the only heartbreaker.

so i'll be the loser in this game i'll be the bad guy in the play - emily. 27. mumu.

[ofdcydreams]

lily shifts her weight on the step, arms folded loosely in front of her as her gaze fixes on them and whatever self-rehearsed speech she'd crafted on the walk over evaporates. james is a mess - more so in a disarming way he’s always had been and utterly unbothered by their own state. his hair is an unruly crown of dark curls, made worse by sleep and an impatient hand run through it one too many times, lily imagines . their glasses also sit slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, one lens smudged with what she assumed had been fingerprints. and there is a crease still pressed into their cheek from where his face had just been resting and the collar of their shirt is uneven, buttoned wrong. and yet, despite all of it, or maybe because of it, james looks painfully charming even as he blinks down at her with sleep-blurred eyes. for a moment, lily forgets what she’s even doing here. it hits her harder than she expects - how much she’d missed this. not the idea of him ( the curated version she sometimes allowed herself to fantasize about in quiet moments) but him. frazzled and half-awake, with that bewildered, crooked smile that made her chest feel too tight. all the excuses she’d told herself for staying away - distance, timing, nerves - begin to wither in the face of something far more honest. ❝ how could i forget ? ❞ she asks with a light teasing note to her voice, hands falling back to her sides now that the pastry has been taken from her hands . ❝ but if i remember correctly , not a single owl from you either . i thought you were buried under those bloody reports for good . ❞ at the invitation , lily glances past their shoulder into the flat and it's not difficult to miss the cluttered table nor the aftermath of many late nights . ❝ i would be happy to , ❞ lily begins with a nod , eyes fixing back onto james . ❝ it was remus who told me that you were home , actually . ❞ and it had also been remus that nudged lily to see them , more so in an inclination that another sound voice could provide reason to james . ❝ we both figured that you wouldn't have remembered to eat unless it walked up and offered itself . ❞ the teasing is gentler now , folding in with something far more tender . even now she watches him with that look she doesn't let most people see - guard lowered just enough to betray the fondness she carries in silence . so she steps into their space , shoulder barely touching james' side as she passes them . ❝ riddle me this , potter . why is it that every time i've managed to come inside the flat , it looks like it's own warzone ? ❞ the smile she throws over her shoulder is half challenge , half a peace offering and if her heart is beating a little too fast, well, at least he can't see that .

[cnlyheartbreaker]

Even with a few weeks standing between now and their last meeting, it suddenly feels as though no time as passed at all, the familiar rhythm of teasing back-and-forth coming as naturally as breathing. As tired as James is, as worn around the edges as he knows he looks, he can't help but smile for Lily - teasing aside, hurt aside, he is always glad to see her. "Alright, fair play," he concedes, raising his hands in surrender, "Though, in my defence, I've popped by the apothecary a couple of times while I've been out on my rounds. I must keep missing you." A coincidence, surely.

As Lily brushes past him on her way into the flat, James catches the familiar scent of her hair, sweet honey and delicate lavender that lingers on the air in her wake. He turns instinctively towards it, towards her, his expression softening the moment her back is turned. His heart aches. He's missed her terribly. "Oh, so Remus gets a visit then?" James calls after her, playing at petulance. It's better than the alternative.

“I should think it’s quite obvious, Evans - it’s because you never let me know you’re planning on coming round. If you told me in advance, I’d not only have the place sparkling, but I’d get the good tea service out of storage, in your honour,” he jokes as he slips his wand out of his back pocket, waving it lazily at the worst of the mess on his way back to the kitchen, “As it goes, the best I can do is a couple of naff mugs and what I reckon is the last of the milk.” It’s been hard to find the time to get the flat in order, lately (or to justify how long it would take to do so, when he has a million other, more important things to be doing).

Redirecting his wand at the sea of reports that cover the kitchen table, James shuffles them into a more orderly stack and levitates them through to the living room, out of their way. “You know, if they’d warned me when I signed up with the DMLE that there was so much bloody paperwork involved, I might not’ve bothered,” he comments with a chuckle, not meaning it in the slightest. It’s difficult to imagine himself doing anything else, at this point - even the boring bits of his job are worthwhile.

“What’ve you been up to, then, mystery woman - aside from gossiping about my diet with Remus, I mean?” He asks, quickly setting the kettle to boil and getting on with unpacking the bag Lily’s brought. As an afterthought, he grabs a couple of plates from the cupboard, scrutinising their cleanliness and deciding they pass muster. If Lily wasn’t here, he’d’ve just crammed the pastry into his mouth while standing over the sink and had done with it, but he doesn't want her to think he's a complete barbarian. “I haven’t seen you properly since… what, the fiasco at St Mungo’s?” The question is carefully casual, as if James isn’t acutely aware that the last time he saw her was in bloody November.

[ofdcydreams]

the moment lily's feet touched the damp cobblestone, the rush of wind from apparating faded into the still quiet of the alley. the narrow passage just off the main street smelled faintly of smoke and rain-soaked brick, and above, the clouds loomed low almost as if they threatened another storm. so she made the walk towards james' flat slower than usual , breathing in the cold air and taking the opportunity to gather herself. the letter she never sent was folded in the pocket of her coat, creased from being unfolded and refolded a dozen times over the past few days. lily hadn’t seen james properly in weeks - and she’d caught sight of them only once since, moving through the streets like a ghost, shoulders tight, his face thinner, almost like the weight of everything had begun to chip away at them . it wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to see james because she had. more than she’d admitted, even to herself. but lily had told herself it was better to keep all the old feelings from rushing up - the ones that had never really left, just buried themselves beneath pride and fear and the sheer chaos of war. but seeing james tired in a way that didn’t come from lack of sleep, but from carrying too much had gnawed at her ever since. so here she was, standing outside the crooked door to their flat, hand raised to knock, nerves fluttering like mad things in her chest. and when it opens , a light smile replaces the paleness of her features and lily's right hand extends towards james with a simple gift : ❝ the cauldron cakes are still warm . not a proper dinner but pretty dang close . ❞

[cnlyheartbreaker]

When the knock at their door comes, James is asleep - or, rather, they're something like asleep. The involuntary nap they've accidentally taken, slumped over their kitchen table with a pile of half-written reports for a pillow, is only distant cousins with a proper night's rest, leaving them bleary-eyed and disoriented as they're jerked back to consciousness.

Grimly peeling a piece of parchment from their cheek, James adjusts their glasses and smooths a quick hand over their unruly hair, expecting that it's Mrs B come to check up on them. They stagger into the hallway, arming themselves with a charming smile as they swing the door open for their elderly landlady, only to be confronted with someone completely different.

"Evans," surprise registers on their features, left unguarded by sleep. It's been ages since they last saw her, and here she is on their doorstep, as if they should've been expecting her. "Well, that's a relief - I was beginning to think you'd forgotten my address," they tease, recovering quickly from their initial shock and managing not to sound hurt by Lily's sudden absence from their life. Just when I was getting used to having her around...

James takes the bag from her when she offers it, their stomach giving a plaintive growl at the welcome prospect of food. When had they last eaten? What time even is it? "Cheers for this," they say, meaning it, "Uh, don't suppose you want to come in, do you? I know I eat like a hippogriff, but I reckon there's enough here for two people, and Remus isn't at home..."

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

sam had a perpetual chip on his shoulder. he could care less of everyone’s social life, he heard it all too much working on these cars. sam had always kept to himself, his dating life was zero, didn’t understand those that actually tried to go out to get to know a person besides their body. maybe that made him shameless but he didn’t really care. he’s been working on a car that was deemed irreparable by the insurance company because they refused to give small business owners a chance — he was about to prove them wrong that he could fix this car under the amount the insurance was willing to pay. he had gotten the rest of the parts last night but wasn’t going to say anything. he was oily and gross, but it didn’t matter, considering sam hyper on a single project at hand, determined to show that he was right when it came to something that he had believed in, which was this dingy little car. he remembers the owner coming to the shop and explaining to him what this car had meant, and sam never gave out promises he couldn’t keep, but he said he would try his best, and he would.

when hakeem said his goodbyes he only slightly waved him off, still on the task at hand. it was just him and nikky now, which made his skin crawl, despite knowing rather… intimate things about the other. that didn’t mean he liked him. sam fucked a lot of people he didn’t like. the list was much shorter of who he actually did like. but he ignored that, huffing at one of the pieces not wanting to work with him. fuck, this would take more than the time he had given himself. he hated how invested he got sometimes.

he’s focused on task at hand when he hears nikky’s voice again, he rolls his eyes moving so he can look at the other. “does it look like i’m done? we all don’t have hot dates to get to,” he says with a smirk before rolling their eyes. “i can easily lock up if you need to be somewhere so badly,” he’s done it plenty of times before. “run along now.” he had known that other frequented dates more than anyone he has ever known — it didn’t really matter that much to sam, their arrangement was… odd, but it worked. if they didn’t talk about it. “just give me your keys and i’ll be here bright and early tomorrow with them.” he hadn’t gotten any sort of keys to lock up, maybe that had to do with his past, or maybe he wasn’t as important as he thought himself in terms of the garage, but sam knew he could be trustworthy, he loved the garage and wouldn’t let anything happen to it, he just didn’t think that others saw that about himself.

“No, but I’ve been listening to you try to jam that crankshaft somewhere it doesn’t want to go for the last half an hour, and I think maybe you should come back to it tomorrow with fresh eyes.” While the advice ultimately serves him as well, Nikky still doesn’t think it’s an unreasonable thing to suggest. Sam is an excellent mechanic, that fact is not up for debate, and he works like a dog, but there is a point where you have to stop pushing yourself. Even he must get tired. “C’mon, just leave it for now, it’s not like it’s going anywhere.”

Dragging himself up from the creeper he’s been using, Nik begins packing his stuff away, discreetly turning his nose into the collar of his shirt and wondering if he’s gonna have enough time to go home and shower before he meets his date. Sweat and motor oil isn’t exactly the first impression he wants to make. “I’m not giving you my keys,” he says. If Hakeem wants to let Sam to lock up, that’s his business (literally), but if Nik hands over his keys and something happens, then it’ll be on his conscience. He can’t do it. Not knowing what he knows.

When he’d first discovered exactly how it is that Sam has been fixing all these cars, Nik fully intended to tell his uncle. He’d meant to, had even told Sam as much, and yet... he never did. If anyone finds out what’s been going on at the garage, where the parts are being “sourced” from, his uncle would be in serious trouble, and selling Sam out would be the easiest way to circumvent that. So why hasn’t he done it? The reason Nik’s brain supplies makes his cheeks flush hot, and he quickly gives himself a mental shake. Get a grip.

“Seriously, man, finish up so we can both get out of here." Separately. Obviously.

[cnlyheartbreaker]

@poltcrgists​

“Alright, Nikky, I’m knocking off now - got a hot date.” Hakeem’s comment is delivered with a swift, companionable kick to Nik’s boot, diverting his attention from the car he’s currently lying beneath. He doesn’t bother rolling out to address his uncle - he can practically hear the suggestive waggling of Hakeem’s eyebrows from where he is, and doesn’t need to look at him to know the boyish smile on his face.

“Okay, killer,” Nik laughs, “Say hi to Auntie. Be good.”

"I can't promise that,” is Hakeem’s solemn reply, before his voice increases several decibels to reach his other employee working in the back. “Sam! I’m heading out, man - your payslip’s in my office! See you tomorrow!” And just like that, he’s gone, leaving the garage in a cloud of cigarette smoke and his date night cologne.

A beat passes, and Nik finally emerges from beneath the vehicle, letting out a low whistle as he wipes the oil off his hands with the hem of his t-shirt - it’s already dirty anyway. “Hey, you about done back there?" He calls, tilting his face vaguely Sam-wards, "'Cause I’d like to get out of here while there’s still some daylight left.” He’s got a date tonight too. Isabela Something. Just a girl he’s been talking to on instagram, but still.

[antoniosbanderas]

MENA MASSOUD Photographed by Alexi Lubomirski for Man About Town, 2019

[sleepytimegal777]

1. A Primer for the Small Weird Loves - Richard Siken / 2. The Crane Wife - CJ Hauser / 3. Automat - Edward Hopper / 4. Red Doc> - Anne Carson / 5. Melancholy - Edvard Munch / 6. The Village (2004) / 7. So We Must Meet Apart - Gabrielle Bates and Jennifer S. Cheng

[dewrr]

OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN as JAMES ELLIS SURFACE | 1x06 The Myth of California

[poltcrgists]

@cnlyheartbreaker​​

it had seemed that no matter what happened, hawkins would throw them in some kind of loop. mike was tired, but now that everyone was back from their trips from the hospital and mike had shown up at his house for however allotted amount of time that made his mom happy he was already packing a bag to make his way to the byers-hopper house. it was easy, if he had imagined himself to be when they were younger, to sleep over at one another’s house. mike couldn’t imagine a time where will didn’t exist, and his mom seemed to know that. he had driven there, long gone were the days of biking over to the other’s place, he had said hi to joyce before finding himself in will’s room plopping down on their bed, and when they finally showed up he smiled. “surprise, i’m here,” he had dumped everything that he had brought which was: his toothbrush, a pack of cards, some sleeping pyjamas and a mixtape that jonathan had taught him how to make before it was important. “figured you could use some company,” but it wasn’t the only reason, but he couldn’t put a word or name to it, at least not right now. “it’s been a long time since we had a proper sleepover,”

[cnlyheartbreaker]

All things considered, Will isn’t as shocked as they might’ve been to find Mike sitting on their bed. At this point, they almost have a sixth sense for all things pertaining to him, for the sound of his truck and his voice muffled through a wall and the tread of his footsteps on the gravel of their driveway. Even then, their mom managed to warn Will that they had an unexpected guest, waylaying them on the stairs to fret that there’s no food in the house, and to tell them that, in future, she’d prefer if they told her when someone was staying the night. As if they’ve ever had anyone stay the night since they moved into this house over a year ago.

“So you are - and I see you’ve made yourself right at home,” Will says mildly, giving the small pile of Mike’s belongings a pointed look as they step into the room, quietly pulling the door closed behind them. They move through the space like a ghost, eventually taking a seat in their rickety desk chair, backlit by the flickering light of their tiny television set. Once upon a time, they would’ve thought nothing of joining Mike on the bed. “That’s because we’re twenty-two.” And sleepovers are for kids. "You know, you don’t need to, like... keep checking on me. It’s not as if I got hurt or anything.” Jonathan had seen to that.

[poltcrgists]

@cnlyheartbreaker​​

there are many things that eren has gotten used to. one of which, is jamie’s hot and cold personality, that he had grown to love over the last ten, eleven, or even twelve years that he has known him. it was, if eren was being honest, the longest not-a-relationship-that he has had with jamie. and if you were to ask him, they had endured a lot. to jamie wanting him, to jamie being engaged, to eren ignoring him and finding his place with men that would have never known him the way that jamie did. it was a complicated matter. but he had never judged jamie, maybe he should have, but he could never think that way. it seemed that their most vulnerable times were when the other were in times of distress; a bad call, one would find the other, but in this time, eren hadn’t even gotten out of his uniform when james and liya had asked him out for drinks with coworkers. he hadn’t thought that jamie would have shown up, though he had invited him to come, it was obvious to everyone around them except jamie and erern, and when he had seen the other he had taken a drink of his beer before saddling up to the other at the bar. “can we get another round?” he said with a small smile to the bartender before he had looked at the other. “i didn’t think you would come.” but eren was naive and desperate for jamie’s attention. 

[cnlyheartbreaker]

It’s plain to see how uncomfortable Jamie feels here, hunched over the bar as he is, clutching onto the half-drunk pint in front of him like a lifeline. He’s come directly from work himself, though that doesn’t mean much, as his professional and casual wardrobes are indistinguishable from one another. Every few seconds he asks himself why he bothered coming here tonight, only to come up with the same answer each time - to see him.

Several minutes pass before Eren actually finds his way to Jamie’s side, but when he does, Jamie’s heart promptly starts thundering in his ears, his stomach performing the same nervous somersaults that’ve plagued him almost the entire time they’ve known each other. “Neither did I,” Jamie mutters, glancing warily at the table where James Partha is at his peak, effortlessly holding court with the group of people assembled around him. Jamie has never particularly liked any of Eren’s friends, but Partha is by far the worst offender in his books: a swaggering, over-confident prick with exceptionally decent parents and an enduring place in Eren’s heart. He’d rather die than admit to feeling jealous, and while his stoic expression gives away nothing, the sentiment might as well be stamped across his forehead all the same.

“I canna stay long,” he says, as a new drink arrives next to the old one, “Got work in the morning.” What he means is that he doesn’t want to stay - not with these people who he doesn’t know how to behave around. These people who love Eren, and want the best for him, and know that there’s no world in which that includes Jamie Wood. He can’t ever let his guard down around them, because, deep down, he knows it too.

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

it was endearing that he came when anyone else in her family called, even if there was guilt that came with it. they both often stretched themselves thin for the people that they loved and she hated being one of the people on the list. it felt like too much, and that’s what made this conversation they’re about to have so hard. she didn’t know why she particularly felt this way, but she had a whole shift to grapple with it. it had started not that long ago, the suspicion, it had been the fatigue at first but she had many excuses for that, then the nausea, which she clocked right after a missed period. all things that could have been due to stress but her body was about as consistent as she was something was off. she had confided in a coworker, and they had done a blood draw on their lunch, and by the time she finished her shift she knew. 

“let me change before you nestle,” she jokes, trying to keep her voice light but it wasn’t really working all that great for her. she could hear something dropping in another room but couldn’t get herself to care all that much. they were all perfectly capable of cleaning something up, plus it felt like her throat was about to constrict again. she wanted to cry, which was a rare feeling, she hardly ever cried but her mood swings were irritable as of late. she pressed a kiss to his forehead before quickly getting into a big t-shirt and then sitting upright across from alec, wanting to reach out but feeling all of a sudden very timid and shy. or as if she had done something wrong even though she didn’t. she had been thinking of what she was going to say, but more importantly thinking, what were they going to do? their families needed them too much, it seemed selfish to want to pursue anything given that leo was still young, and then she thought about his mom and how fucking complicated that was going to be. and then she thought of her own mom who had fucked off again, she sighs, running a hand over her face before finally meeting his eyes. when he asks about work she shrugs, her fingers tapping against her own skin. “fine, just..” oh fucksake, she just needed to spit it out. 

“i’m pregnant.” she let it breathe for a moment before continuing. “and it comes at such an inconvenient time, fuck,” she wipes her eyes shaking her head, angry at herself for starting to crying. 

Alec wants to whine when Zia scoots away from him, but there’s something in her tone that stops him in his tracks, realising that everything is not as it should be. Instead he forces his eyes open, tracking her movements around the room as she changes into her pyjamas, the fond tilt of his mouth tempered by the crease of concern between his brows. “I can hear you thinking from here,” he says softly, hoping it’ll prompt her to talk to him. Zia has always been guarded - she had to be, to survive her upbringing - but Alec always wants to hear what she has to say. He would never use the softer pieces of her as a weapon.

She gets back onto the bed, and he waits, watching the play of emotions across her face. People have commented in the past that Zia seems cold or unfeeling, but those people just don’t know how to read her, and Alec has dedicated years of his life to the practice. He decided a long time ago that he wanted to know everything about her, and to understand her as best as he could. The non-descript answer to his question is a clear segue into whatever she’s about to tell him, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what Zia says next.

For a moment, Alec thinks he might still be dreaming, and he knows he must look completely blindsided. They’re always safe, so how can she be pregnant? He thinks back on all the times they’ve slept together in the past few months, wondering which one had led them here, but trying to work out the math makes his head swim. It’s not that he isn’t happy - on the contrary, it feels like his heart’s about to burst out of his chest - but... Zia’s crying. Zia never cries. She doesn’t want it. 

The beat between the initial announcement and her next sentence feels like it stretches on for eternity, and as Zia swipes at her tears, Alec knows it’s time for him to say something. "Mi vida,” he says gently, reaching to take her hands in his, hoping to god that his voice won’t crack and betray him. It’s up to him to hold it together, to make her feel okay about their situation, whatever the outcome. “Stuff like this... I don’t think it ever feels convenient, you know? That’s just life. But...” Alec swallows, “We don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to. There’ll be other times.” It’ll break his heart a little, but he knows he can bear it, and that's what he'll do.

Alec lifts her hands to his lips, pressing a careful kiss to each one. “How long have you known?” How long has she been dealing with this alone?

[poltcrgists]

@cnlyheartbreaker​​

it wasn’t news that being a nursing student was hard, what was news was how she heavily dependent on alec, or what kind of chaos her siblings would leave her in her wake. balancing life, school, and siblings was no easy process, and she had felt torn trying to break herself into three so they could all be happy. it didn’t matter that her brothers had now known better, they were more jaded by the world due to their mom, but zia had always been the parental figure, and she had half a mind of dropping out of nursing school. she had a late shift at the hospital with her internship and by the time she had made it back home she was surprised to see alec there. she had quickly gotten ready for bed before she got into her actual bed, ignoring the sounds of her siblings screaming at each other, but it wasn’t anything life or death and that was honestly all she could ask for. she splayed herself on his back, whispering in his ear, “you could have gone home hours ago,” she pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “especially because of your brother.”

[cnlyheartbreaker]

Alec is dead asleep, having long-since mastered the ability of screening the noises that permeate Zia’s family home to determine whether or not they need his attention - he knows the difference between a danger scream and a regular scream almost as well as she does, at this point.

At the press of Zia’s lips to the nape of his neck, he stirs from his dreams with a soft smile, rolling over in the circle of her arms and slinging one of his own around her waist without ever opening his eyes. “Hey, nena,” Alec mumbles softly, pushing his sleep-warm face into the crook of her neck. “I did,” he continues, “But Celeste called me when I was picking him up from little league, and asked if I’d come back here after my mom got home.” Which he’d done without question, in spite of how guilty he’d felt when he’d explained where he was going to his mother - as if he hadn’t made Leo’s dinner and let him kick his ass at Fortnite for an hour before he finally put him to bed. As if he hadn’t done all the stuff he was supposed to before tending to his own affairs. As if he was a bad son for wanting to hang out with his girlfriend and her family.

“How was your shift? There’s leftover chilli in the fridge if you’re hungry, or I can make you a grilled cheese...” He offers, though his voice is hazy, already half asleep again with the comfort of knowing Zia is close by.

[cnlyheartbreaker]

This is an amazing idea, the greatest, probably the best anyone’s ever had. Drew whistles cheerfully as he pings another pebble off the windowsill of Tommy’s top-floor apartment, already mentally congratulating himself (Romeo, Prince Charming, John Cusack) on the extremely romantic gesture that will almost certainly win the other man over.

It’s hard to say what goes wrong with the next stone he tosses, if he’s thrown it too hard or if it was simply too big for its intended purpose, but when it makes contact with the window there’s an audible splintering of glass that has Drew looking stricken. “Aw, shit- uh! That wasn’t part of it! My bad!”

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

they were complete opposites in many ways, it was heartbreaking how it seemed like jamie didn’t know how to hold himself in his own home, or maybe it was just eren that made it more difficult. he had known all of his neighbours, frequently asked them to come over to have a drink or play a game if he was feeling particularly lonely. that seemed to be the issue with eren his entire life, trying so desperately to fill the parts of loneliness with someone else because it was easier than having to confront with the fact that he was lonely. he wasn’t someone that could live in solitude, needed a hand to hold or someone there on the other side. it’s why he wanted to help people so much with his line of work, being there for people during the worst moment’s of their lives. make them feel a little less lonely. 

when jamie isn’t looking at him he observes him. there had been one too many times of eren getting in his own head about everything, especially when they were younger. imagining what life could be like if their circumstances were different. it’s a cruel fantasy built on love and light and openness, he had squashed any attempts of it now as an adult. jamie had hurt him before, but he doesn’t think that he means to, but eren kept coming back like a moth to a flame. 

they’re close again, physically. eren teetering on too close always. his thumb brushes his cheek and he can feel the way that his hands bunch the fabric, or the way that he can feel his lips on his palm and move when he talks. he’s trying to remember how to breathe, and he gives himself a moment to take a small breath, afraid to disturb whatever bit of peace they have in this one moment. it had been a long night filled with turmoil of being unable to help in the way that he had wanted. there were some calls that would always be hard to witness but the heaviness of it was slowly passing now that he got the evidence of it off his body. “you’ve done more than you know.” he says with a small shrug. just being here was enough, he wants to say but he doesn’t. 

when he asks him if he feels better, he looks him in the eyes, searching for something but he doesn’t know what. it was like a dance, the way that they had moved around each other, tactical, thought out, it could never be on a whim or just because, it was like there had to be a reason. he breathes out again, little bit of air hitting jamie’s face. “yeah.” choking on all the other words that he wants to say. why did you invite me over? fighting back the, is it because you feel bad for me? but he doesn’t think that he’ll get those answers, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t know if he wants to know them. “are you?” his voice is quiet now, hand moving to almost the back of his neck, fingers brushing against the hair there. 

The truth is, Jamie has never really felt comfortable anywhere. He’s always felt like he exists on the outside of things, as if he’s separated from the rest of the world by a sheet of glass - he can see everyone, and they can see him too, but he’s long-since given up banging on the window, begging to be let in. With Eren, he wouldn’t have to beg. He’s been offering Jamie a place to belong for almost ten years, he’s just too afraid of what it would mean to actually take it.

He’s hurt him, Jamie understands that. It’s a sick, guilty feeling that sticks to his ribs, tucked up against the fear, and the shame that his father took such great care to impress upon his middle child - the sentiments are so tangled now, that it’s hard to see where one ends and the other begins. He doesn’t know why Eren keeps coming back, but he does know that Jamie will never stop him from doing so. At his core, he’s selfish - he wants to keep him.

It’s what he’s thinking about now, standing so close to him, crowded together in the tiny space of his shitty flat. Wouldn’t it be nice to have somebody to make an extra cup of tea for, to lend his jumper when its cold, to be with at the end of a difficult day, knowing they want to make things right for you? Jamie supposes that’s the warmth suffusing his being - the shy, desperate desire to be loved, and to show that he has the capability to love in return. He shakes his head. “I havena done anything, Eren,” Jamie repeats in a quiet voice, “Ever. Not like ye deserve.” It’s not quite an apology, but it’s the closest he’s ever managed.

Jamie wonders what Eren sees when he looks at him. He’s always looking at him, to the point that Jamie can feel his gaze specifically, set apart from the other eyes he feels are usually upon him. He doesn’t wear his feelings very well, his expressions inscrutable to most, but he wonders if Eren can intuit them somehow... perhaps that’s why he hasn’t given up on him yet.

Instead of answering the question, Jamie leans forward and kisses him. It’s a soft thing, hesitant, but they can do that here. It’s safe here.

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

before there was jamie there were plenty of guys that eren had no business being with because of the way that they treated him. eren at the time had tried to conform himself to make himself fit but it always ended up feeling like he was just taking up too much space in their life. eren was tired of constantly feeling like he was taking up too much space. he didn’t know what made being with jamie different—maybe because he knew that there was a reason that jamie was scared—one that was valid and not on pure malice—or maybe it was because eren loved him. he had never felt that way about anyone and didn’t know what to do with the feeling whenever he was around him. sometimes he felt so much love for him that it would just explode out of his chest, fracture jamie in ways that wouldn’t be fixable.

he watches jamie grab some things, and he takes it from him gently, like he’s not trying to scare him away with any quick movements. he knew that taking it slow was the way to go when it came to moments of vulnerability. this was jamie being vulnerable, and eren wasn’t going to ruin it by being too much. he smiles at jamie, his fingers brushing against the others quickly, his back turning. and then he hears it. he can feel his jaw start to clench and his heart feels like it’s going to concave in but he keeps walking as if he didn’t hear it, treads lightly against the floorboards like a mouse just looking for a safe place to call home in the dark corners of this flat.

he probably didn’t mean for it to come off the way it did, at least that’s what eren is trying to convince himself as he makes his way into the bathroom. he stares at himself in the mirror. he didn’t get much sleep the night before and it shows. eren can’t remember the last time he got good sleep. he undressed and folds his bloody uniform and places it neatly on the top of the toilet before running the water and splashing water on his face and trying to convince himself that he was someone worth looking at. even in the dark. it’s a self destructive way of thinking that eren thought he had gotten over, and he knows it isn’t jamie’s fault. he knows that jamie is trying. he sighs to himself, pushing it back as far as it can go in the crevice of his mind and looks down at the clothes that jamie has given him.

eren was trained to be observant in the field, his mother had said once that he’d be a good detective with his trained eye. too close to his father for his own comfort, and maybe it’s the only good quality he got from his dad, but he always caught things that other people overlooked. he can tell by the way the pyjamas feel that they’re not worn all that much but they’re still soft and comfortable, and he can tell by the way the shirt feels and what it says on the front that it was given out of good deed because despite what jamie thought of himself—he was good. but the hoodie—eren almost doesn’t want to put on, but he does anyway, it’s got jamie’s scent on it meaning that he wears it quite often or often enough to leave a familiar and warm feeling that eren has only ever gotten a taste of. he stands there in the bathroom longer than he should, trying to get used to the feeling of the clothes, almost as if he’s waiting to see if he would be too big for them, too much. but he isn’t.

he rolls the sleeves up on the hoodie when he grabs his uniform and quietly makes his way back and placing it on top of the coat he was wearing before subconsciously pulling the sleeves back down. he’s feeling brave or maybe it’s the tiredness settling in his bones he walks over to jamie, fingers reaching out to touch the others before he’s holding at least one of his hands. he’s looking at his neck for a moment before his eyes travel up to his lips and then his eyes. there’s tension—but there’s always been tension—it’s not obvious or even overbearing to the untrained eye—but there’s history here. eren is slow and gentle reaching his other free hand to cup jamie’s cheek. he leans in, but doesn’t kiss him, he wouldn’t make that move unless jamie wanted it. “thank you.” he whispers, still quiet but unwavering, “for everything.”

While Eren is gone, Jamie holds himself extremely still, straining to hear any signs of life over the rising volume of the boiling kettle. It’s been five years, but he still doesn’t know any of his neighbours, has no idea what kind of people they are. He can’t trust that they’ll keep their noses out of his business, as he would if he found himself in a similar set of circumstances.

He’s stirring the tea when he hears the front door close once more, his shoulders relaxing incrementally with the knowledge that Eren has apparently made it back unobserved. It’s less likely now that outside interruptions will bring this tenuous peace between them to a crashing halt, leaving the job to be completed by Jamie himself at a later point. That outcome, at least, would be familiar, if equally undesirable.

Jamie isn’t prepared for the sight of Eren in his clothes. Looking at him over his shoulder, there’s the hungry, proprietary feeling that he probably should’ve expected, but he’s surprised to find it eclipsed by something else. Something dangerous is unspooling in his chest, something soft and malleable that seems to be doing its best to fill up the cracks inside of him. He watches Eren fuss with the sleeves of his sweater, and the grave line of his mouth twitches, the corner lifting almost imperceptibly as he turns back to what he was doing.

This time when Eren finds his way to Jamie’s side, he doesn’t flinch away from his presence, allows him to touch his cheek even as his pulse starts to thrum violently beneath his skin. His free hand moves tentatively across the space between them, his clumsy fingers fluttering uselessly against Eren’s side before curling finally themselves in the fabric of the sweater, not so much pulling him closer as holding him firm. “Don’t. I havena done anythin’,” he mumbles, turning his head just a fraction, so the edge of his mouth brushes against Eren’s palm with each word spoken. “D’ye feel better?” In my clothes... in my flat... with me?

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

he knows what he’s doing could potentially break his own heart, and yet he’s doing it anyway. grabbing his phone out and texting a quick won’t be home, i’m safe (i think) to james before completely putting it on silent and shoving it in his backpocket. he tries catching up with jamie but he thinks that the distance is on purpose and eren would give him that. but there is this one thought of watching the other’s hand swing and wanting to hold it and he finds himself rolling his eyes at himself at the thought. he couldn’t just do that. but there’s a phantom sting in the possible rejection. he shoves his hands in his jacket, his eyes watching the trail of smoke behind him. 

he knows that it’s a big deal to follow him home. there are some things that sacred and vulnerable, this being one of them. where you live tells it’s own story, and while eren has invited jamie over many times it’s not the same as inviting him to where him and his mother had decided to make roots coming here from turkey. and if things were different—he would want to show jamie that. but there’s still a distance between them and eren has been patiently waiting for the other to join him, but his journey hasn’t made it there yet and eren knows that it may be a while or never, but he waits anyway. 

the silence isn’t uncommon, in fact, in most cases, eren finds it peaceful. for someone who loved to talk so much there was something in the silence that he found that he loved. maybe he had just gotten better at reading jamie and his needs but he understands that there is something to be said in between the lines. by the time they make it to his building eren stares up at it, before crossing the threshold and quietly walking up the stairs and listening to the sound of people’s feet shuffling as they pass by the doors. eren is still a secret in his own way like this, quietly pushing past the halls of people he’ll never know. 

the door opens and eren is only looking at jamie, watches the way that he holds himself in his guarded space. eren takes his own jacket off and places it on a small corner of the couch, afraid of taking up too much space which he was very good at, but he didn’t want to be here. he takes his shoes off out of habit, hearing his mother’s voice in his head about outside shoes in the house, and he thinks that at least this way, he could be as quiet as a mouse. he walks closer towards the other, quietly asking, “do you have something i can change into? i have to wash these when i get back home.” his voice is quiet, and he’s leaning against the couch now, his hands close to jamie’s but still keeping the space if he needed. 

If Jamie’s flat felt small before, it feels smaller still with Eren inside it. It’s not as if they’ve never been alone together - in fact, that’s historically been Jamie’s preferred scenario for their encounters - but here? There’s nowhere to hide from this thing between them, the room packed to bursting with their years of baggage. From the corner of his eye, Jamie watches Eren’s hand as it arrives on the back of the couch, inches away from his own. He feels like a rabbit, or a deer. Jumpy.

When Eren speaks, Jamie’s gaze flickers over his uniform again, over the dark stains that have no business being there. Why didn’t he go home? “Aye, I’ll- I’ll find ye somethin’,” he murmurs, leaving the other man’s orbit and crossing the short distance to the dresser that stands in the scant space between the wall and the end of his bed. It contains every piece of clothing he owns, and requires a special manoeuvre to get any of the drawers open properly, one that involves jiggling each one in a specific order before they’ll slide out. Jamie’s done this so many times that the movement barely disturbs the solitary photo frame that sits on top, protecting the only picture of himself and his mother he has.

Once he’s actually faced with his clothes, Jamie’s brow knits together, a slight frown on his face as his hand lingers over the bundles of fabric. What should he give him? He doesn’t know what would be appropriate, or if there’s such a thing as appropriate at all - he’s thinking about it too hard, when Eren probably isn’t thinking about it at all. But what if he’s missing something? Some hidden meaning he’d never think to ascribe to anything, let alone something as stupid as a shirt.

Eventually he settles on a pair of pyjama bottoms he never wears, a printed t-shirt he’d been given for volunteering at one of Carol’s fundraisers, and his favourite grey hoodie, grown soft from repeated wear and washing. He pushes the pile into Eren’s arms and then turns his back, retreating into the kitchenette and filling the kettle for something to do. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Don’t let anyone see ye.”

That comes out wrong too, like he doesn’t want him here. It’s not the case. He gets two mugs out of the cabinet.

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

eren had always known who he was, his mother used to say that it was both a blessing and a curse to know who you are at such a young age, it make you vulnerable to other people who were still figuring that part of them out. made you feel lonely, too, waiting for people to meet you where you already were. that had never been much of a problem with eren who learned patience was a virtue, his mother being the one to have taught him that, as well. he knows that at this point in life, no matter how close jamie is to grasping it, he might not be ready for what eren had wanted to offer, but he would wait for him in the shadows anyway, offering whatever light that he could give him while he figured it out on his own. it’s a small touch of affection, he had known that it might not even be reciprocated but didn’t hold it against him. 

eren was always staring, he didn’t know where else to look. he watches the way that he inhales, holding the smoke so close inside of his chest like a secret and then letting it out, the smoke cloud drifting eren’s way, he reaches out to poke a finger through it before moving his hands into his jacket pocket. he looks very briefly at his uniform knowing that everything he was wearing needed to be cleaned. he remembers heading back to the station and looking at his partner and thinking that they needed to clean a lot of blood off a lot of surfaces in the rig. he remembers looking over at his captain who was used to late night calls like this but it never made the one’s that they saw like this even remotely less heartbreaking. eren doesn’t know how to tell jamie that he makes people feel safe, doing what he does. 

“yeah,” eren agrees, his eyes looking up at him. he didn’t know if it was an invitation. “i can walk you home.” he says instead, offering it so jamie didn’t have to ask it out loud. 

Quietly relieved that it seems he’s been understood, Jamie starts off down the street, puffing away at his cigarette and trying to keep his heart from hammering its way clean out of his chest. It means something. He hadn’t been able to invite him properly, couldn’t get up the nerve to just spit it out, but allowing Eren into his private sphere feels like a step towards... well, it just seems like a step, and god only knows Jamie doesn’t take many of those.

The walk back to his place passes mostly in silence. It isn’t too far from the office, not even requiring a trip on the tube, and at this time of night there are far fewer people on the street to impede their progress. It leaves a lot of space for Jamie to retreat into his head, mentally grappling with himself and the decision he’s made. He wants Eren in his space. He doesn’t want Eren in his space. He wants Eren in his space.

Finally arriving outside, Jamie motions for Eren to be quiet as they make their way into the building and up the stairs to the flat he’s lived in for the past five years.

His flat barely merits the description. Really, it’s little more than a room, with damp on the walls and a window that periodically rattles in its frame as a train goes through the nearby station. His bed is pushed into the furthest corner, only accessible from one side because he isn’t sharing it with anyone. The girls he sees periodically, when his guilt and self-loathing become unmanageable, are never invited here. Nobody is.

Leaving Eren to shut the door behind them, Jamie makes his way across the room, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of his couch. He clumsily smooths his hand over the cracked leather, mostly so he won’t have to look at Eren, afraid of what he might see in his expression. This place isn’t exactly anything to be proud of, but it’s his. “Sorry,” he mumbles after a moment. “Landlady lives downstairs. She doesna like us having people over after nine.” And she’s a nosy old bat.

[cnlyheartbreaker]

poltcrgists·:

imani never at the best of times been good at making friends. it’s not that they were exactly the weird kid that no one wanted to talk to, in fact, it seemed to be the opposite most of the time because they were that kid that was too young to have tattoos and there was always some sort of question about it. he didn’t know what to say half the time, he just liked them, and his dad was never around to notice. by the time that they were an adult they had already lived in way too many states before finally the one place that they swore they were going to settle down for a while. it was like they were finally ready for the next step of adulthood and had someone that wanted to give them that and then it all monumentally blew up in their face. love has always been a bit of a disadvantage, isn’t it? he remembers hearing his father tell him, one hand on their shoulder like it had meant something more but in truth it was just to pass by him to sit on his seat. 

it shouldn’t be so surprising, he had thought, it seemed that no matter what happened life had a funny way of kicking him in the ass. he knows that it’s partly on their own bad decision making but they were really trying this time to make it work here. they had gotten a nice set up in a good area and the city wasn’t too bad either. and maybe these friends should have told them that they were trying to set them up on some kind of date but he appreciated their efforts. he’s looking at her now before shaking his head. “no, it’s- it’s not you. i feel bad you get dragged into this.” he says, lips pressed closed for a moment before his fingers tap against the wood of the bar. “this has just- never been much of my scene since… forever ago.” he offers before letting out a small breath. “i tend to uh, get a little overwhelmed with big crowds of people.” there’s a smile there but it quickly leaves. “have you eaten?” he questions, thinking of some kind of back up plan, if they were willing to stick it out then clearly they couldn’t be that bad. “know any good pizza places we can walk to?”

Laughing lightly, Margo traces her fingertip around the rim of her martini glass, her irritation dissipating somewhat in the face of what she now clearly recognises as nerves. “Oh, I wasn’t dragged. If I didn’t want to be here, I would’ve left.” And that’s her privilege. Although Margo has rejected many of the trappings of her upbringing, the effect it’s had on her personality has been harder to shake, leaving her possessed of the kind of self-confidence that only comes from growing up wealthy. She does what she wants, and she’s not afraid of anything.

“Then moving to New York was possibly a mistake,” Margo points out, her smile wry, teasing. This is one of the most densely populated cities in the world, and the constant surge of people are an inescapable fact of living here. It’s actually one of her favourite things about New York - that, and that it isn’t London.

The suggestion of food isn’t a bad one. It’s hard to find time to eat proper meals at the hospital, in spite of Haneul’s best efforts to the contrary, and she’d been wondering about the logistics of drinking on a stomach empty of anything except cigarette smoke. Pizza it is. “Sure. Giac’s is around the corner - come on,” Margo is already sliding off her barstool, shrugging her leather jacket on over her thin black sweater. She produces a small fold of bills from an inside pocket, and slips it into the tip jar as she passes on her way through the crowd towards the exit.