𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 .

♔ -- there's no plan, there's no race to be run; the 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 the rain, honey, the sweeter the s u n ! there's no plan, there's no (kingdom) to come; i'll be your man if you got 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 to get done ! sit in and watch the sunlight fade, honey, enjoy ! it's gettin late [ ... ] there's no plan, there's no 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕 on the rein; as mack explained, there will be 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 again ! ☾

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  “i did, yeah, i did.” voice is so small, almost wishes a black hole would open up and swallow him. he’s never… freaked out like this before, so immediate and without thought. then again, he’s never really had anybody tell him that he was about to father their child! “so no big, uh… problems, then? that’s good, that’s good.” tommy nods, tone level, almost monotone. though, it’s really only because he doesn’t know how long until he’s back in her good graces, if he ever was there. he doesn’t want to jump in with all this excitement when he knows he’s got a lot of things to fix. arms cross over his chest at her words, slight furrow of his brows. “how are they treatin’ you?” it’s really tommy-speak for letting him know what business he needs to handle. like he has any right to her life! “oh, yeah… does your stomach do that, uh - squirming thing where you can see him movin’ around?” and how many things have you missed? how many times have you sat and wondered what she was going through? what your son was going through? “no, no. that’s not… no. s’not gonna happen.” yeah, except it’s happened once and you’ve yet to prove yourself to her, tommy. he knows only time will tell, but he doesn’t think she’s the type of person to ever forget… maybe not even forgive. in order to try to make amends, he offers some semblance of a normal conversation. like two people who are planning on having a kid would have. “you… thought about names?”

    a part of norah feels almost bad for tommy. she can see he’s nervous, can hear it in his voice, can feel the uneasy energy occupying the room. perhaps he has tormented himself enough in his absence; he doesn’t really need it from her, either. then again, he literally disappeared. “no big problems, tommy. i’m apparently very lucky, according to... pretty much every other pregnant person i come across. they seem to have it worse than i do.” she looks him over, taking in the fact that he looks the exact same as the last time she saw him, with maybe a few extra worry lines. of course he’s been stressed. “the people at work? oh, i dunno. mainly they just treat me like i’m fragile now. or when i get fired up in a meeting, you can tell they’re wondering if the non-pregnant, less hormonal version of me six months ago would’ve reacted the same way... which i guess is fair.” norah sits then, right at the kitchen island, and swirls the wine around in her glass. she’s suddenly lost her craving for it. “my stomach does do the squirming thing, but you can’t really see it much from the outside. not yet, anyway. he’s always moving in some way, especially when he knows i’m getting ready to go to bed for the night. he’s not a fan of that.” though she may act as though her unborn son’s movements are a nuisance, she is grateful for them almost always. because, in truth, norah is a lonely person by default. she doesn’t have many friends, certainly doesn’t talk to people when she doesn’t have to, but a part of her does wish that wasn’t the case. so she finds comfort in her baby’s gentle (and sometimes, not so gentle) reminders that he’s there. what a package deal they are. “i’ve thought about some names, yeah. though i don’t think any of them have stuck yet. i like adrian, wyatt, leo... do you have any in mind?”

[sahdahw]

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  a smile did grow on his face at she spoke, though he tried to keep it to a ‘light beam’ while they were still in public. “that can be our backup plan, then. not too keen on the raw fish deal, even imaginarily.” small shake of his head ensues, fingers latch onto half-drank barely-warm coffee; too busy thinking (and looking at her) to drink it. he figured the question would be thrown back at him, a few seconds given to actually reflect on his answer before he ends up shrugging anyway. “i think about it.” he admits, his lack of words following are on purpose, wants to prompt her into asking exactly what he thinks about. but he ends up giving in before she can do so. he’s got plenty of years of marriage to try her patience! “i think about being happy with you. taking it day by day. we’ve been friends through… a lot. so i figure living with me won’t be the worst case scenario… unless you don’t have earplugs? then i suggest investing in them. ‘cause ma says my snoring shakes the house.”

    “i’ll just have to pack plenty of soy sauce for the fish. if we close our eyes, it’ll be like we’re eating sashimi at nami nori in west village,” she retorts, unable to help the laughter that ensues. what a thought. she’s looking at him now, though now her thumb rubs against her ring on the underside of her hand absently. “mm, thinking about being with me and being happy with me are two entirely different things. i should’ve had you speak to my three most recent exes before you agreed to this deal.” another sip. “you’re forgetting how many times i’ve slept next to you before, jer. your snoring has never bothered me, not even after that one time you’d had four too many brews at that pub in edinburgh. somehow i found that endearing, still kind of do. and... lucky you, i’ll be gone at least two nights a week while i’m on call. you’ll have the bed all to yourself.”

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  he knows they’re both adults, he knows that this isn’t as life or death as he’s making it seem, but… he can’t shake the feeling within him. the guilty one. where he should’ve been the one to call the shots in the first place, to not let them get this far. and then the direct feeling after that: shame. for knowing exactly why he wasn’t strong enough to do so. why he continued to allow jude to speak with him, after hours, to ‘hang out’ with him in the name of studying. he knew it, and jude knew it, and he was too stubborn to just come out and say it. instead, stuffing it away until they both inevitably had had enough. “i’m terrified, actually.” was what came out first. it wasn’t a scared he’d ever faced, a scared where he could potentially see what came next. it was unnerving, unsettling, with no clear outcome. “of you. of myself, because of you. you… you’ve infiltrated every part of my being.” it was his first step in the right direction (at least in jude’s eyes, he assumes) instead of two steps back. reverting was his strong suit, repressing everything, staying silent in times of strife. but he was just so tired of fighting, or arguing with himself, and of being around the other male every day with the same internal struggle. head hangs for a second in contemplation, really trying to look anywhere other than jude at the moment. “friday, i, uh…” santi shakes his head before looking up. “not sure about that. i don’t really… go out.” ever. especially with students that i kiss.

    hearing santiago say, ‘you’ve infiltrated every part of my being,’ makes jude want to melt, more so than he already wants to. the words seep through to his core. no one’s ever said that to him, and he’s never felt that he’s had that affect on any single one of his previous lovers. and yet here he stands, hearing it from someone who he can’t even consider a lover; not yet, anyway. “and you don’t think you have the same hold on me? you scare me too, you know. and maybe i’m young and stupid, but it’s the best kind of scared i’ve ever been,” jude says, words spoken casually yet earnestly. “i kind of gathered that. and, as i said, potentially young and stupid, but i know i won’t have much luck in changing your ways. what with you being so... you know. old. set in your ways.” he smiles then, a grin that he’s rather well known for. he said it in jest, and he hopes santi can appreciate that. “i won’t force you to go out, but i do think you’d appreciate it. we can also stay in, i’ve found a new bottle of port that i would love to split with you.” jude takes a step back, resting his backside against the desk once more. santi deserves his space again. 

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  it’s not like they hadn’t had a multitude of conversations like this. over the exact same topic. coming to the exact same conclusion every time. just a friend helping a friend, right? except the ‘help’ comes in the form of saving his life. “you say unfortunately like i’m getting the raw end here. that’s on you. and ma’s been planting this seed for nearly two decades. we could say we’re eloping in antarctica, integrating our life with the penguins as a new group of nomadic people, eating nothing but raw fish and ice, and she’d send her best wishes.” finally takes a breath. “you ever think about the end game?”

    “... and that’s how i know you’re a writer. you just made fucking off to antarctica sound lovely.” vivienne smiles, something she finds herself doing often, but only really in jeremiah’s presence. “i try not to. i’ve already found a few grays without entertaining that thought. do you?” her gaze trails down to the engagement ring on her finger; a vintage find they’d copped at a little antique store upstate when they finally decided to do this whole thing. she tilts her hand just the slightest bit, taking in the sparkle and the promise it held... a promise that perhaps she was a little too okay with accepting.

[tylrswftss]

adria arjona via instagram.

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  “we’re insane, right?” was said over their afternoon coffee, sunday already half over as they sit in comfortable silence. only a week and a half away from their marriage. their marriage. “we can’t actually do this. do you have the heart to lie to my ma like that? ‘cause i sure don’t.” a bad attempt at a self-inflicted jab.

      “we probably are,” she says, no protest offered in response to the male’s words. she brings her coffee cup to her lips, hesitating for just a split second as she thinks over the gravity of their situation. a breathy laugh escapes then, because really, it is kind of funny. “but i don’t see what other choice we have. or, really, you have. so you’re just going to have to marry me, unfortunately. your mother will be thrilled.”

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  a difference in the heaviness within him was made, no longer dark and deep, but now it’s lighter… it’s something else. though, the nerves are still rampant, the direction in which they were directed has shifted; now outwards, instead of kept inside, aimed at himself. like he was the one who deserved it. heavy breath comes out as hands are placed on him, knows for a fact now that the sudden repetition inside his chest can be felt. it didn’t matter now. “it’s… not okay.” head shakes, words sound hollow. as if he’s saying them just to say them. though it could be due to a multitude of reasons - starting with the fact santi is still trying to refuse a thought process in which this was plausible. but he had already fallen into jude’s orbit, stationed there in front of him, relinquishing whatever power he thought he had.

                “i don’t know how - i don’t… you’re so-” young, you have so much ahead of you, you don’t know what you want. none was said, couldn’t even figure out how to string any of those statements together, though the brief pause has given him some semblance of a hold on his vocabulary. “jude, i… i don’t know.” he shakes his head, eyes cast downwards for a split second before returning back up. “this isn’t normal. this doesn’t happen.” but it does, and it did, and it currently is happening. santi had never allowed himself to think about the possibilities between the two of them. ever. any time a creeping flash of what-could-be came up, it would be displaced, pushed back. a small brick added to the wall that’s already been knocked down. “i could lose everything. my job, my house. and you - you can’t possibly…”

jude rubs a few small circles into santiago’s chest, nodding at the elder’s words as they finally manage to string themselves together. “santi, it is okay. i know this might not feel normal, and alright, maybe it isn’t, but... it’s okay. you won’t lose your job. i’m almost done with school? and i’m not asking you to go public with the fact that we’re... doing whatever it is we’re doing. i wouldn’t care if you wanted to keep it a secret forever. i can do that.” it’s sad, that last statement. surely not something he deserves, yet something he would endure, if it meant finally breaking down santi’s walls and getting to know him on a different level. he offers santi a weak smile, maybe one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “i know you’re scared, and i might not seem worth the risk, but... i think that i am. and i also think you owe it to yourself to explore this side of yourself? life can be so, so much better. let me show you,” he murmurs, holding eye contact with him once more. his own heart is beating a mile a minute, but he’s trying his best not to convey that. “one of my friend’s partners is having an art show this friday night. it’s a small crowd, and very welcoming. come with me. we can go as friends, if you want to. but i think you would really enjoy it.”

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  god, he’s missed so much time. time they could’ve spent coming up with a plan, what the future looked like for them, their baby, preparing for decades worth of worry. instead, he’d taken some contracted job a state away; the image of her face as he left their last lunch had been cemented behind closed eyes. now that he was in it, standing in front of her, he’d take whatever she threw at him - whatever it was that came to the forefront that she wanted to hurl his way. “i shouldn’t have left.” he reiterates, though voice isn’t as rushed this time around. little by little, the more time she doesn’t tell him to fuck off, a tiny bit of weight is released from his shoulders. it’s a boy. futures of sports and high-fives, father-son bonding, making sure he’s on the straight and narrow, everything he never received for himself growing up. “well…” a small huff of forced laughter comes through, not so much funny as it is trying to break up the heavy pressure between them. “for his sake i hope that’s not true.” then his head nods, though the furrow in his brows have yet to dissipate. “alright, yeah, uh… yeah. okay.” feet carry him inside, now the real test begins. “how has… how’s it all been?”

“you shouldn’t have, but you did, so here we are,” she quips, though it doesn’t hold any real malice. norah is known for her blunt way of speaking, of thinking, and it’s probably the reason she’s earned so much respect in her career. because let’s face it, it certainly has nothing to do with the fact that she’s a woman in a male dominated field. she walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling a miller lite from it’s depths; his beer of choice, which she knows all too well. and what does it say about her that she’s still got it well stocked? more than she’d like to confront at this time. she slides the can across the counter toward him before taking a sip of her wine. “it’s been... i don’t know? fine, i guess? i’ve obviously never been pregnant before, but i think it’s been fine. over the nausea portion, for the most part. i don’t like the way people are treating me at work because of it, but... what can you do!” she makes a small noise of annoyance as their son shifts against her ribs, and surely a few of her vital organs; she’s still not used to the sensation. “he’s really active, especially right now. i can feel him doing acrobatics in there... maybe he knows i’m talking to his dad that’s already ghosted him once. no plans to do that again, right?”

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  “i know it’s my fault for allowing this… situation, this - this… this delusion, really, to go for as long as it did, but i can’t help the fact that it’s been fueled by your incessant need for something you can’t quite reach. power? belonging?” head shakes, unsureness spoken without the words to accompany it. it was obvious, now, that santi was taking it all out on the younger male - like none of it had anything to do with him, that he was just along for the ride. he grew continuously more cruel, more deep, hoping to finally sever whatever thread jude was holding onto between them. hoping to finally be set free from the inversion inside his chest. the tangible unspoken was what sat between them, santi was sure the brunet could feel the vibrations of the uninterrupted pounding his heart was incessant on producing. his next string of words was trying to be pieced together inside his head, desperately waiting to fall out, as the male’s hand came out, grabbing ahold of the professor’s chin.

                 it was brief, it was over in a flash, but it’d felt like everything around him had faded out, blurred in slow-mo, then all came rushing back as the tingle on his lips began to subside. eyes catch the younger’s feet falling back in step, a wave of clumsy washing over, as he just… stood there. caught. it was subconscious what happened, feet stood firm, then came forward once, barely. but it put him into motion. “no… no - no, no. hold on. just, just wait. one second. just wait one second. i - i-” he should be jumping at the chance to allow the other to escape, to do the one thing he’s been asking him to do: leave. but his hands came out, palms forward, as if his signed ‘stop’ was going to do anything. “don’t… go - you can’t just…” a hand comes up to swipe down his face, trying to calm his nerves, but doing little to subdue the fire beginning to brew. he wasn’t even sure if jude was still in the process of gathering his things as words flew beneath his breath, body turning around to start pacing. “fuck… fuck.”

jude stops in his shuffle to get out the door, because clearly... the kiss broke santiago out of whatever sour mood the elder was in. or perhaps it just sent him into a spiral, he can’t quite tell. santiago is fumbling over his words in a way that jude has never seen, and he knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help the satisfaction that brings him. once again, he feels like the one in control of this situation. jude adjusts the hold he has on his bag, allows santiago to pace for a few more moments, and once again approaches his counterpart. “hey. alright. stop... stop, it’s okay,” he whispers, both palms coming to rest on santiago’s chest to halt him in his tracks. after a moment, one hand moves to cup the professor’s chin again, although this time much softer, much sweeter. “you don’t have to be afraid of this? i know it’s strange, and i know it feels wrong, but... i’ve got one more semester and then i’m graduating. we could be so great if you’d just let us be, santi.” he studies the other male’s face earnestly, taking in every frown line, every gray hair peppered through his beard, and he holds firm on the idea that there’s never been a more gorgeous person on this earth; even if he’s also the most stubborn.

[endless-love-story]

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                  what the fuck happened? he doesn’t even know how to process that. because, for him, it’s not about ‘what’ happened but how and why and when. how did he allow the other male to get under his skin, so engrained in his thoughts? why did he continue to condone this behavior for as long as he did? and when did he realize that he felt far past the point of returning to normalcy? “where is this coming from? my senses. it’s just me coming to my senses, and it’s a long time overdue.” he can almost feel the change in jude, the shift in demeanor nearly palpable, but then again he’s sure the same can be said from the opposing view. the hard lines on his face deepen, continuously trying to remain composed as if it’s not his words that are the most cutting here. no matter how he says them. can almost feel the beating of his heart course through every part of his body, the beat so loud in his ears he could almost not hear the other speak (or he was simply trying not to hear him). “my job is not to coddle you, it’s to grade your papers and your work. if i didn’t let you… if i just stuck to that, you wouldn’t be here right now and i wouldn’t be having to do this.” head tilts, voice chipped. “we won’t talk outside of class hours. nor will we be alone again. ever.” a hint, not so subtle, but still there.

jude’s jaw drops for a moment, and to say he looks like a gaping fish is a fair comparison. but then he’s closing his mouth again, because what does he even say in response to these words? these words that sting and drip with a vitriol he truthfully didn’t know santiago was capable of. he pushes off of the desk then, allowing himself to close most of the gap between them. he glances toward the door one last time, to assure himself that no one will walk in and crash this little meeting, and then his focus is once again on his professor. “coddle me! i’ve never asked you to do that. and you never bloody have? i find it funny, maybe even laughable, that your moral compass is just now calibrating itself. after... how many months! give me a fucking break, santiago.” his words have a bite to them, but jude wishes they were nastier. or maybe he doesn’t. “if this is it, then you’ve got to at least know what you’re missing,” he murmurs, eyes drifting down to santiago’s lips. the lips that are so perfectly downturned, especially in this very moment. he brings a hand up to cup the older male’s chin, maybe a little stronger than he would normally, and he hesitates for only a millisecond before he kisses him. it’s a kiss that has roots in equal parts longing and spite, but it doesn’t last for more than a few (much too short) beats. and then jude pulls away, breath hitching in his throat, because the weight of his actions has suddenly become a little too heavy. “... i should go. it’s time to go, i think.” he takes a few steps backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to grab his bag. 

[coltre]

I like the idea of you thinking about me

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                unsure if he was close to any sort of breaking point, or if he was too consumed with stress (thinking about whatever situation they were in together, what any of it means, what he’s even feeling) to fathom an instance where he’d just… snap. “‘so well’ in what? it’s my fault i’ve even let you think this is something that could happen. should happen, even.” they hadn’t done anything inherently wrong, not physically; feigning study sessions or project reworks over the weeks, months, so he could convince himself this was normal. this was fine. “i don’t want to talk anymore. i want… whatever is happening-” hand gestures again, this time in the air between them. “-to stop.”

jude can’t help the way his jaw clenches, though it’s quick and almost imperceptible. he’s unused to the way santiago is speaking to him. or, rather, he’s unused to it from santiago. it doesn’t make him feel good, and it brings a pink hue to his cheeks. he can feel it, feels the annoying warmth, and it only annoys him more that he can’t will it away. his typical playfulness he takes up with the other male has faded quickly. “what the fuck happened, santiago? you were... we were fine two days ago. where is this coming from?” he straightens up a bit, suddenly all too aware of his shrinking posture. it’s as if he’s been scolded like a small boy again, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. not here, not now, and not by santi. “whatever stick you’ve got up your arse can certainly stay there as far as i’m concerned, but you don’t get to snap at me like that. not when i’m showing some type of concern. but fine, we won’t talk.” he doesn’t move from his position against the desk, though it would certainly be easier if he did. it would also be easier if he wasn’t pursuing a man twenty years his senior, but alas.. jude has never been a fan of the easy way. 

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

––––         @euphcrs​.

                 homme was looking a little more… broody and pensive than normal. which was saying something, especially when stoicism was his speciality, his trade by choice. “just had a long night, is all.” trouble sleeping, staying up late, waking up early, flashes of images that he can usually repress most nights came rushing to the surface. the bags under his eyes, the distracted look; becoming a potentially life-endangering choice when it came to doing what he was paid to do. “my job is to worry, not yours.”

blaise is exhausted from his night out, and by default, he’s sure jackson is too. however, this morning, things seem a bit different. there’s a part of blaise that cares, maybe too much, about the wellbeing of the man whose job it is to ensure his wellbeing. “maybe that’s your job, but it’s also in my nature. maybe you should take the day off? i won’t leave my house, if that makes it easier for you. could use a day of lazing around here, anyway.”

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                 he didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what to prepare for - would’ve somehow been easier if he had a concrete idea of her reaction (silence, yelling, slamming the door in his face, ignoring him) rather than going in blind. but that’s what he deserved, wasn’t it? to be at the mercy of the woman he left behind without a second thought; except for the fact his thoughts had entirely been consumed by her, their baby, what that meant for him and his life. selfish, selfish, selfish. took a second to blink, release the breath trapped between unspoken words. “i’m here because…” voice trailed off, but he couldn’t leave the silence open ended for too long, couldn’t allow her to change her mind of standing there speaking to him. (he’s got a lot further than a lot of the scenarios he made up in his mind had gotten.) he’s trying to get the words out, but they fumble through his lips, rushed and uncoordinated. “because i made a mistake. not - not about the baby thing, just about… y’know. like, leavin’ you like that.” horrible start, tommy.

norah laughs. it’s clipped and humorless, but a laugh nonetheless. “was it a mistake, though? because maybe it was for the best. certainly would’ve saved the both of us a lot of paperwork.” she knows that sounds mean, that was her intention, but it still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. as frustrated (and, okay, hurt) as she had been by his disappearance, she finds it hard to turn his away in this moment. she opens the door a little wider, allowing him to get a glimpse of the baby bump that was making itself very well known. “it’s a boy. and i think he’s got the beginnings of your nose, from what i can see on the ultrasound,” she mumbles, free hand that isn’t clutching her wine coming down to cradle her stomach. “... do you want to come in or something? you can’t stay long. i said i have plans.”

[euphcrs]

✧         @seekisiaani.

                 was it his patience running thin? or something else? because it wasn’t like santi to not act in a calm, appropriate manner. ever. and it wasn’t entirely jude’s fault that this was the way things went - after all, the elder had the choice all along, and he continued to give in. until the choice wasn’t ‘will he’ go with jude, but ‘when will he’ and that was the problem. that was something he felt he no longer had a hold over so the best thing to do was… cut it off. or try to. or act like he was trying to, but was really unsure of what to say and how to say it. “no, you can’t help, mr. kensington.” voice level, pen that had previously been attempting to write on exams waiting to be graded was now placed down on his desk. back became straighter, gaze became more narrowed. “i’ve indulged you for long enough, haven’t i?”

“mr. kensington. we were doing so, so well there for a while? you know, where you were calling me by my name?” he murmurs, leaning back against santiago’s desk. he can feel the tension radiating from his professor in waves, and it’s foreign. he’s used to professionalism, and perhaps some hesitance at times, but never tension. needless to say, he’s not a fan. “i mean... that really depends. is that what you’ve been doing? indulging me?” he raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, eyes searching the other male’s face for any break in resolve. “want to talk over dinner? something is bugging you. and don’t say me, because then you’d be deflecting.”