wanderer

Foster. 31. Chef. Because it felt like I was giving too much of myself to people who didn’t want it. It felt like I was forcing myself to be in a place where I wasn’t wanted. That was the starting point, and it never stopped. My heart just keeps on breaking. Because I still feel unwanted. I still feel like I’m not enough.

[just-foster]

FOSTER. 31. CARDINAL HILL. Head Chef at La Galleria. Reformed Degenerate.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This may be me at my best.

Bio // Connections // Musings

FULL NAME: Matthew David Foster

NICKNAME(S): Foster (almost exclusively), Matty (by a select few)

AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 31, October 21, 1992

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-male, he/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single, but emotionally taken (also lowkey still married to Estefania Betancourt)

OCCUPATION: Head Chef at La Galleria

HOMETOWN: Blue Harbor, Illinois

PREVIOUSLY LIVED: Philadelphia, London, Paris, Madrid, Copenhagen, Budapest, other various cities for shorter periods of time

TIME IN BLUE HARBOR: Native; left at 18 and returned Oct 2023

CURRENT NEIGHBORHOOD: Cardinal Hill

FACECLAIM: Jeremy Allen White

TLDR: Son of the former chief of police of Blue Harbor; he often rebelled against his father who was neglectful and abusive, and was written off as a ‘bad apple’ because of it. Left town the day he turned 18 without even finishing high school and never looked back. He eventually found his way into the kitchen, and has spent the last decade traveling the world working at various high-level restaurants. There are approximately 3 people in the world allowed to called him Matty — to everyone else he is Foster.

Other Links:

The Phoster Saga

[just-foster]

It didn't exactly feel like a victory, but it also wasn't a defeat. It existed somewhere in the middle, in that liminal space so much of their history occupied. Friends, but also so much more... Foster hadn't even known that was what he was going to suggest until the words were already out — rules he hadn't expected, that surprised even him. They made sense though, when he thought about it, even if their implementation would be harder.

He and Phoebe had never honestly been 'just friends,' so maybe it was high time they tried it. Sure, he'd always rejected the idea before when she suggested it, but this would be different. It wasn't the end of their relationship; it was just a new start. One with the both of them starting on the same page. One where, crucially, he wouldn't have to worry about her moving on. Instead, they would be moving and growing together.

It was... a lifeline, a promise. They'd never done anything normally, but maybe this time they would get it right. Maybe Phoebe could still get the love story she deserved, and maybe he could earn it. "Anything for you," he said, feeling sheepish because she shouldn't have to thank him. He should be thanking her. "Thank you. For not giving up on me." He only hoped she wouldn't come to regret it.

[thephoebeyates]

Perhaps it was Phoebe’s Achilles heel — her stubbornness and determination to not let go — but she supposed out of everything in the history of humanity, giving people numerous chances wasn’t the worst offence. Stupid, maybe, especially the cases in which it backfired on her. With Lisa, and Spencer. But those were chances given out of necessity for survival, until she could stand on her own two feet and no longer needed to invite them into her life for the sake of the low-rate security they offered her. Her gut would churn, back then. Her heart would race.

None of these side effects were happening as she offered Foster another chance. She just knew that he wouldn’t waste it. That no matter what he said, his ultimatum would never come to be. She’d prove herself to him, he’d prove himself to her, they’d work on their issues both individually and together. Learn from their mistakes, become something to be proud of. 

“Always.” She answered with a small smile. “You know me, I don’t give up that easily.” 

And the way she saw it, she’d never have to give it up again.

The End.

[thephoebeyates]

She didn’t dare get her hopes up, balling her hands into fists as if it would prevent the inevitable water works, feeling the words of ‘I can’t do it again’ piercing through her heart. But then…he was giving them a chance. Phoebe opened her mouth to argue that it wasn’t down to him, ultimately, how many chances she gave and to who, but she realised that he was doing this for her. For her to not hold onto this if they didn’t work out. It wasn’t ideal, but it was…something. All she had to do now was prove he wouldn’t hurt her. This last chance would be one she cherished.

“Okay.” She said, nodding feverishly at his conditions. It was almost laughable, that he was offering something that Phoebe had been begging him to consider once the anger had disappeared in the wake of the break up. But at least Foster was considering it. “Do we…should we set some rules or something?” They probably didn’t need any, but considering how they spent several months claiming to be ‘just friends’ whilst still hooking up with each other the first time around, maybe a little reminder that normal friendships didn’t involve sex would do them some good. And maybe, to the way Phoebe’s mind worked, it’d be a helpful checklist for her too. A step-by-step guide of all the things they did wrong the first time. A real do-over that they deserved.

“Thank you.” She murmured after a beat. “Just…yeah. Thank you.” 

[just-foster]

It didn't exactly feel like a victory, but it also wasn't a defeat. It existed somewhere in the middle, in that liminal space so much of their history occupied. Friends, but also so much more... Foster hadn't even known that was what he was going to suggest until the words were already out — rules he hadn't expected, that surprised even him. They made sense though, when he thought about it, even if their implementation would be harder.

He and Phoebe had never honestly been 'just friends,' so maybe it was high time they tried it. Sure, he'd always rejected the idea before when she suggested it, but this would be different. It wasn't the end of their relationship; it was just a new start. One with the both of them starting on the same page. One where, crucially, he wouldn't have to worry about her moving on. Instead, they would be moving and growing together.

It was... a lifeline, a promise. They'd never done anything normally, but maybe this time they would get it right. Maybe Phoebe could still get the love story she deserved, and maybe he could earn it. "Anything for you," he said, feeling sheepish because she shouldn't have to thank him. He should be thanking her. "Thank you. For not giving up on me." He only hoped she wouldn't come to regret it.

[thephoebeyates]

At that moment, there was a lot Phoebe wanted to do. She wanted to kick and scream, wanted to burst into tears, wanted to wail out that this wasn’t fair. And maybe it wasn’t, and maybe life just wasn’t fair. And maybe Foster was making several points that would make logical sense to someone who didn’t know him all that well.

But Phoebe did know him. Even the parts he had tried to conceal from her, she had learned about, had fitted them into the puzzle of him. “It’s not the way you are.” She said definitively, because Phoebe had her own share of experience with awful people who cared little for others’ feelings, and had seen first-hand everytime Foster fixed something he thought he had screwed up. “I think…you’re trying to sabotage any chance of happiness offered to you because you think you don’t deserve it. You’re saying that I’m backtracking because I feel bad for standing up for myself, well I’m saying that you’re refusing to accept my forgiveness because you believe you need to suffer for the rest of your life.” She shook her head, tugging her purse from where it hung haphazardly from the back of the chair, prepared to bolt if things turned south, haphazardly wiping at her eyes where the predictable tears had begun to gather. Maybe one day she could get through a difficult conversation without crying. 

“You’re allowed a second chance, Foster. And I truly believe you’re someone who is capable of growth and change. Because you already have, you’re so different to the guy I met a year ago already. And,” A shrug, “…if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have reached out. I miss you, I love you, I want you. This. I want to give you a chance to re-earn my trust because you’re capable of deserving it, I want you to be able to see what I can see inside you. I just don’t see the point of us basking in our own fucking misery when we can just…learn from our mistakes and do better this time around. Be happy.”

[just-foster]

Why had he come here? Why had he agreed to meet up with Phoebe, after saying he didn't want to be 'just friends'? It wasn't as simple as just being unable to refuse her. Clearly, because if that were the case, he'd be kissing her right now instead of fighting back when she was offering him everything he ever wanted. But was it sabotage? Could it really be that all this time he was just... choosing to suffer?

He had always known he made bad decisions. For most of his youth, that had been the whole point of it. His father didn't care about him, so why should he care about himself? He'd chosen a lot of things purely because they made him miserable — fights and petty crimes, a fucking marriage to Estefania... Like somehow by proving his father right, he was also defying him.

He thought he had gotten over that. He had never gotten over that...

And then Phoebe had come into his life, and for the first time, Foster felt like he was truly free from his father. He'd found his family and his home, and being loved by her proved that he was worth something. Losing her had felt like getting all of that ripped away again.

He knew that he still had so much work to do. He'd meant it when he said they both had unresolved issues from their past. But what good was his misery really doing him? Was he suffering for love, or just proving that he loved suffering more?

"I can't do it again," he said quietly, his resolve crumbling. "If we do this, I can't do this again. One more chance, okay? You give me one more chance, and then you promise that you'll let me go forever." It was a compromise. It was a security measure. He couldn't allow himself to bleed her dry, but he also couldn't be without her. One more chance — and then they'd know.

"And we do it right, okay? We really do it. Like, back to basics. Friends. Nothing more. I regain your trust and then when you tell me you're ready, I'm gonna ask you. Properly." It felt ridiculous to be the one laying out the ground rules when he was the one who fucked up so badly, but he also knew he had to be the one to do it. He'd almost lost her too many times to make the same mistakes and Phoebe had always been too kind and forgiving. Foster would protect her for the both of them; he would prove to himself that he could.

[thephoebeyates]

But she did. Even if it were thoughts that punctured her brain quick and sharp like a pin prick, and she didn't mean them when the dust settled and she could think with clarity; for the smallest second, Phoebe did mean those words. Still, she opened her mouth to defend herself, jaw snapping shut when she realized there was nothing to say that would convince Foster anything different.

She didn't think she was backtracking. Was she? Was this just a pattern; let the negative feelings pass until it felt good and safe again? Make herself forget the hurt she endured beforehand and convince herself it'd be different? Her hands began to shake, and she really wished she ordered something even if it was just an extra object to play with, to distract herself from the inevitable.

He wanted to get back together...but. There was always a but. A but that contradicted the first statement, ultimately giving it zero weight. A way to shift any ill feeling in the same vein as 'no offence'. "We can find a way without falling into old habits. If we both love each other and don't want to hurt each other. We can do it." Her voice sounded so detached, and she didn't even sound convincing to her own ears. But what was she expecting, really? Her to announce it was time to get back together and Foster to sweep her off her feet and give her a kiss that rivalled the most romantic of movies?

The last thing she wanted to do was beg. Beg for him to change his mind, beg for him to take her back. Beg for everything to be okay again. "I wish...I had the words that would change your mind, Foster. I don't know how else to convince you that we could do it all differently, this time around."

[just-foster]

It was wishful thinking, and they both knew it. If loving each other and not wanting to hurt each other were all it took, then they wouldn't be in this position in the first place. Everything he had done had been in a misguided attempt not to hurt Phoebe. He could see the flaws in his logic, knew now that there was no way it wouldn't have blown up in his face. He could even acknowledge that cowardice had played just as big of a role, but he had tried.

He shook his head mournfully. "What if I can't help it? What if it's just the way I am?" Phoebe had to have seen it, in the moments before she kicked him out. That awful ugliness, the anger that seeped out like poison. She might choose to forget, but he remembered what it felt like. The way he'd been able to ride those winds for a few hours, and the horrible riptide that dragged him under. He was still barely surviving it; he wouldn't last if it happened again...

"I love you, Phoebe. I think I'm always gonna love you. That's never been the problem. And if wanting it was enough, we wouldn't be having this conversation." The problem was with him — that he wasn't good enough. It had always been the case, but this just cemented it. "I don't deserve your trust, Phoebe." He didn't even have his own. And underneath that, always underneath that, he didn't believe he deserved her love either.

[thephoebeyates]

It was a fair observation, because she had said those things. Similar to the comment he made to her about ‘growing up’, it had been said to be spiteful, one final low blow for him to feel as hurt as she had in the moment. And maybe, deep down she had meant it then.

But Phoebe didn’t mean it now, now that she had time away from the situation. Now that she could see it from his perspective. Still, she nodded, not going to pretend she hadn’t said all that. “I was angry, I wanted to hurt you. Which is shitty of me, I know. But I don’t think those things anymore. You didn’t ruin me. At all. Trusting you…I want to, but I can’t if I don’t give you a chance to prove I can, if that makes sense?”

Her stomach churned at the realisation she had maybe misread the whole situation. Phoebe had been the one who ultimately ended the relationship, after all; she was the one who insisted they just move on. And she knew it was unfair to come crawling back like this because she could find it in herself to forgive Foster for his past misgivings. He had said he couldn’t be in her life as just her friend, couldn’t watch her move on without him. But maybe it had been a polite way to just say they needed a clean break from it all. To never see each other again in any capacity.

“I’m so sorry.” She suddenly blurted out, resisting every urge in her to scramble up and leave as quickly as possible to save her some embarrassment. “This was…incredibly selfish of me. And you’re doing something so nice just by being here, and I’m not even considering what you’re wanting, really. We can —,” She shook her head, lips tightening into a caricature of a grin, “— forget I said that, about getting back together, if that’s what you want. I am just...happy to have you in my life in any way, however much you want to give.” Which was true, she’d take every scrap Foster had to offer her.

[just-foster]

He could acknowledge the hypocrisy in him expecting her to dismiss his words as angry and thoughtless, but not being able to do the same in return. Consider it just another trait to add to his endless list of character flaws... But it was easy when he knew just how little he had meant his, and how absolutely right Phoebe was with hers. He had ruined everything. And there was no guarantee he wouldn't do it again. There was something bad inside him, and as much as he tried to pretend otherwise, no amount of Phoebe loving him could change it.

I don't think those things anymore. "But you did," he reminded her, his voice thick with regret. It wouldn't have hurt so much if it wasn't the truth, and both of them knew it. "And Phoebe, I can't let you just backtrack because the anger's died down and now you're second guessing and you feel bad because you took a stand for yourself." He knew her, knew that was the way she operated — doubting herself into some lesser, more palatable offense. It was how she had survived her emotionally abusive mother and dickhead boyfriend, and Foster refused to let her use it now as an attempt to 'survive' him.

It would sure as hell make things easier, but wouldn't be honest. And he had promised her honesty. If they were— if Phoebe was seriously offering them a way forward, and if Foster was going to take it, they would have to do things differently. "I want to get back together. Of course I do. I never wanted to break up. But Pheebs... you were the one who said we couldn't keep doing this. Hurting each other. Begging forgiveness. I don't know how to do this any different."

[thephoebeyates]

It was evident by the look on his face alone, that Phoebe was not expressing herself well. It had always been an issue; her brain working so fast sometimes that her thoughts were ten steps ahead from her mouth, that she tended to miss vital information when expressing herself. Maybe a result of a childhood where she had to explain herself against the clock of short attention spans and negligence. Still, whatever she had said seemed to have struck a nerve with Foster, and she tried to hide her panic at his hurt, at the thought of causing him more pain.

"No...I...I mean —," She stammered out, the sentence sitting oh-so eloquently in her head coming out garbled mess. How was she supposed to express without seeming needy and clingy that she didn't want to move on with anyone else? That it was Foster, or no-one? "I want us to start again." The words reverberate around her ears, and she was the one to break eye contact this time, glancing down at the table, the lingering aroma of food on the other tables the absolute opposite of appetizing.

"I'm sorry. This is...I don't want to keep fucking with your head. I just...I miss you...I miss us. And I thought by meeting up and airing things out we could, Iunno, start afresh. Move on from the past."

[just-foster]

Was she... saying what he thought she was saying? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he was struggling to find another meaning. If it was there, he needed her to spell it out for him. "What about me ruining you, or you not trusting me, or..." God, it felt like there had been a hundred different reasons; there had to have been, because there was no possible way he would've walked away without them.

She had said he ruined any chance of her ever forgiving him. And as much as it hurt, it made sense to him. He wasn't used to forgiveness. Any time he'd ever earned it, he'd proved just as quickly he didn't deserve it. And giving it? All he could say was he had some hate in him so deep, he understood withholding it forever. His dad. Tefi, too now. Some things didn't deserve forgiveness. He would never blame Phoebe for deciding he didn't either. In fact, it was exactly what he would do...

He didn't forgive himself. For any of it. And there was always that voice in the back of his head, one that sounded exactly like his father, telling him, no matter what, he didn't deserve to be happy. Happiness had crept up on him, so slowly he didn't realize until he was in it and it was in him, but he had ruined it and lightning never struck the same place twice. Phoebe had the chance for a clean break with a clear conscience, and the better part of Foster (the part that maybe could've deserved her) was screaming at her to take it.

[thephoebeyates]

The last thing that Phoebe wanted was to make Foster feel bad. But she supposed they couldn’t navigate this conversation without feelings being hurt. She resisted the urge to utter out that it was okay, because it wasn’t, but she wanted him to know that — in spite of it all —it would be okay.

“We both said hurtful things to each other, we both aimed low, and used our weaknesses against each other. But you’re right, we do have things in our past that aren’t quite resolved.” She glanced down at the menu, suddenly bashful despite it all. “I, um, actually started going back to therapy, so in a way it…did me some good.” Phoebe wasn’t going to begin lecturing Foster about him potentially seeing someone, especially not now when it wasn’t her place. 

“I forgive you.” And it was like a weight lifted off her chest, and she could breathe again, blinking away the tears that formed in her eyes. “Thank you. And I’m sorry too.I think…at least on my end, we can start again now.”

[just-foster]

She was going back to therapy. Foster had fucked her up enough to send her back to therapy. Don't get him wrong — he was happy for her. Fuck knew she had been through enough that she deserved all the help she could get. But to think that he was the worst of it, the straw that finally broke the camel's back... She could say they were both aiming low, but sometimes anger was the ultimate truth-teller.

He had ruined her. They both knew it. And while she could say that she forgave him, he didn't forgive himself...

His face briefly twisted into one of pain, the knotting in his stomach edging into the territory of an awful cramp. We can start again now. What did that mean? Why was she talking about moving on and starting over with barely even a breath between them? Was she really expecting him to sit by and watch it happen?

"I can't- I don't know what you mean by that," he finally admitted, forcing out the words and his eyes to finally meet hers. "I'm trying... to give you what you want. I wanna be cool with this, to be- friends, but I..." She had to know how cruel this was, but he'd never known her to be so vindictive. He owed her anything she asked her, but... fuck, please pick something else! "I can't watch you move on, Phoebe. I'm sorry. I know it's less than what I owe you, but I can't do it."

[just-foster]

—Starter for @rorysanderson Location: Rory's kitchen

It was either friendship or a hostage situation. All he knew was that Annie had gotten it into her head that Foster was the only person who could help teach her and her dad how to make Christmas cookies. Rory had given him a million opportunities for an out, but bizarrely (perhaps even insanely) Foster found himself agreeing to the proposition.

"First step: apron. You gotta keep yourself and your station clean. Otherwise you're always gonna be behind and rushing to keep up." Maybe not true outside of an industrial kitchen, but baking with a kid was bound to be messy so it couldn't hurt to instill some fear.

[just-foster]

—Starter for @rachelxhan Location: Bright Sparks (After Hours)

Foster had gotten into the routine of volunteering for cooking classes every other Monday when the restaurant was closed. It was strange to think that what had started as an annoying task filling in for an over-eager boss was now something he genuinely looked forward to. (He blamed Phoebe. He blamed Phoebe for every healthy thing in his life. It only sucked that it meant he now still thought about her constantly...)

Rachel had played her own part in convincing him to stay on, and by now they had their own tradition of meeting up once the kids were gone. "Here," he said, handing over the bottle of wine he'd smuggled in with his jacket. "Nicked it from the restaurant a few weeks back, but never found the opportunity to drink it."

[thephoebeyates]

Her entire life, it was a battle to accept compliments. To be accoladed in any way usually came with a price, could easily be stripped away as easy as it was awarded. To Lisa she was the perfect daughter, until she did something that made her an ungrateful bitch. To Spencer, she was the ideal partner, until of course, he changed his mind and thought of her as too much to handle.

To Foster, she was his dream girl, at one point. And all the compliments that followed: beautiful, smart, strong, to be remarkable in facing her adversaries. Until, of course, he did something to hurt her, comparable to such challenges. And he told her to grow up.

She forgave him for his past coming back to haunt him, she forgave him for handling a strange situation poorly. She forgave him for his anger, because he had been willing to forgive her in return. But the sneering voice still chimed in her head, and even now, sat across from her and calling her incredible, it all rang a little hollow. And if they were going to be friends again, if they were goingto be in each other's lives in a positive way, that needed to be addressed, as intimidating as it was.

"Thank you," She picked at the edge of the table, "Think I've grown up enough?" Phoebe dared glance up, to see if the words were recognizable, if Foster got the hint, barely giving them enough time to resonate before her guilt got the better of her, immediately stammering out an apology. "Sorry, just, that comment in particular I never got to shake. I know I said some pretty horrific things to you as well, and I'm sorry, and I'm so, so thankful you even agreed to see me, but..." Trailing off, she shrugged, not knowing what else tosay. Ironic, that the words failed the writer in that moment. "I just felt like we need to address it, properly. To move on."

[just-foster]

He could see it, the way her mind pushed back against his words, and at first he thought it was just her usual self-doubt. This would be the part where he reached out to hold her hand, or kissed her with enough tenderness to make her believe him, and he was at a lost for what to do instead until her words, her furtive glance, sunk in.

Grow up. His stomach dropped, and if he wasn't already feeling shitty enough, this was enough to clinch it. Fuck, he should've trusted himself. He'd known that he was right — still being in Phoebe's life was a fucking bad idea. They couldn't erase what happened, no matter how much they both pretended. Why was he such a masochist trying to prolong this pain any further?

"I don't-" he started, his voice sounding as shaky as he felt. He'd meant it, in a way, but— "I didn't mean to say it like that." It was a throwaway comment; it wasn't supposed to be the part that stuck with her. Of all the things he'd said, that part wasn't meant to be important. "I was angry, and I... I think we both have things in our past that maybe aren't as resolved as we thought they were." He wasn't innocent either, but every time they started to get somewhere, it was like their past cropped up to sabotage them. It wasn't the first time her mother had come between them, but it certainly appeared to be the last...

So was this it? The trauma he inflicted on her that she'd carry into her next relationship? Him as yet another man who made her feel small? "I'm sorry," he said quietly, shame flooding him, making him incapable of even looking at her. "I would take it back. If that's what you need to... 'move on' or whatever," he mumbled out that part, like even saying it out loud hurt him. Like speaking it into existence made it real that one day she's love someone else. Someone better and more worthy.

[thephoebeyates]

Scarlett. The red-head immediately came to mind, and it gave Phoebe the clarity she had been missing regarding her interaction with her former co-worker at the luncheon. It must be hard, knowing two people — regardless how well or where from — and being on the outskirts as those two were navigating a break-up. The usual spike of jealousy rose at Foster having an 'old friend' who just happened to be a gorgeous woman, and she was tempted to ask him the obvious question of how exactly they knew each other. Just to see how he'd answer. If there had been a lesson learned through all this heartbreak after all.

But she didn't. Instead, she just nodded. "Yeah, I know her. I'm sure she'll do an amazing job." Would that job entail in late nights in the La Galleria kitchen? Just him and her in dim lighting? Would he invite her over to his apartment that he's just signed a new yearly lease for?

Was Phoebe even allowed to be upset at any of this? Regardless if it was currently a hypothetical created from the depths of her own jealousy?

She frowned, watching Foster's face fall, and she swallowed down the panic that she had done or said something wrong. Fuck, again, she forced them into a situation she expected to go wrong way and no one was playing their part properly... "Oh, it's better than the paper. It's quiet, and I can read on the job if I want. You should come by some time!" Though she didn't know what the invitation would achieve, it was still nice to throw it out there. "But um, it's just...well, it's not permanent. Hopefully." And she couldn't even look at Foster now, eyes dropping to the table between them; the physical obstacle nothing compared to the figurative distance between them. She could feel her cheeks burning, nerves settling in as she continued to speak. "I got in touch with a literary agent. And uh, I just...I wanted to say thank you. It never would have happened if not for you."

[just-foster]

His stomach twisted in a way that was almost painful, like his gut was being pulled in two directions simultaneously. He was happy for Phoebe — that she was finally finding her way, that she had found the direction he knew her life was lacking. And yet... it killed him to know that his part in it was over. That maybe they were on their way to being 'okay' again, but even if they could be friends, it still wouldn't be enough for him. He'd had a front row seat, and now he was hearing everything after the fact.

"It was all you," he said with a sad smile, digging his fingers into his thighs to stop them shaking. He wanted to know everything, and nothing, and as always he ignored it. "You're incredible. It was time everyone realized that." It couldn't have been him — he, who left 'ruined' women in his wake. He'd only been lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. He'd gotten to witness the start of something magnificent, to love a woman just as she grew into her power. "Congratulations. You deserve it."

[just-foster]

—Starter for @hvneymelons (Juno) Location: La Galleria Kitchen

For a while there, Mondays were his favorite day of the week. A whole day when the restaurant was closed, and he had no other obligation than whatever itinerary Phoebe imposed. Usually, that meant sleeping in — and getting in a long workout, too, before she even thought about getting up for the day. They might be back on speaking terms, but his Mondays still felt empty, so usually, he found himself still at the restaurant, working on R&D in the kitchen.

Today, at least, he'd found someone to be his taste tester. "So," he starting, making conversation as he stood over the stove, "how much were you involved in the planning of this whole Canada thing?" He assumed as Eli's personal assistant, Juno had some part in booking the first trip to take his ex-girlfriend out of the country. (He was still trying to get over the irrational jealousy at not being the first person to take her international...)

[p0p-salvation]

Jeremy Allen White

Photographed by Stuart Winecoff for Calvin Klein.

[thephoebeyates]

“Good!” And the word didn’t sound real to her own ears, and her smile was making her cheeks ache, though it was nothing compared to the sting that jolted through her when he mentioned signing his lease for another year. She knew, deep down, it wasn’t a dig at her for kicking him out, because he had to live somewhere, but it woke the guilt lying dormant in her stomach, twisting through her akin to a knife through the heart.

Whatever appetite she had vanished into thin air. She laid the menu down, no longer interested in the types of sandwiches on offer, playing with the edge of the cloudy laminate instead. Phoebe tried to think of the positives instead; that another year of his lease meant another year in town. Another year was plenty of time to bring them to a more positive place, and then he could stay for another one…then another one after that. There could be something keeping Foster in Blue Harbor other than finishing sorting through his father’s estate, as selfish as that sounded. 

She was so focused on the future, she momentarily lost time of the present, letting out a soft hum as his words caught up with her. “Oh! A feature, that’s amazing! You guys really deserve it! Who’s the reporter?” And she faltered when he made an offhand comment about her helping out, the twist of the knife reminding her that because of what happened, he had missed a chapter or two of what went on since the reveal. Since the nightclub. Since her birthday. “Well, uh, my internship finished at the paper actually,” She admitted with a hesitant chuckle.  “Um, I’ve been working at Word on the Street since the beginning of October.” She awkwardly tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, before her betraying hands reached out to Foster’s side of the table, face and tone softening. “It’d be impossible for you to embarrass yourself, y’know, but I can always put a good word in. I left on good terms with everyone except Deb, typically.”

[just-foster]

He still wanted to impress her. Ever since that first night, the way her eyes lit up when he mentioned being a chef, the way she'd spent the first few months referring to him as 'that cool chef guy'... He'd never been all that comfortable sharing good news about himself, but fuck— What he really wanted right now was for her to say those magic words: 'I'm proud of you, baby.' Even if it would crumble his resolve, he thought it'd be worth it to hear it one last time.

"Her name's Scarlett. She's an old friend," he explained with a shrug, because now that it was out, he had to diminish it in typical fashion. It wasn't some big publication, and he wasn't about to start raking in major awards. It was silly, but it was also something — and considering everything he'd lost recently, he would take his small victories.

But it felt hollow when Phoebe revealed that she finished her internship, and he couldn't hide the way his face fell in response. It was stupid, but... He'd been the one to encourage her quitting her job and trying something new. He'd cooked her pancakes on her first morning that she was too nervous to even eat. That chapter of her life ending felt just as final as her kicking him him out, and all he could think was: how had so much changed already? And worse: how long would it take for her life to become completely unrecognizable to him?

"Oh." It was his turn, and it was only the fear of silence that spurred him onwards. "Shit, that's- I mean... How are you liking it?"

[sadiechen-deactivated20241210]

Who: Anyone! (@bluestarters)

Where: Anywhere around Blue Harbor

Sadie wandered down the main street of Blue Harbor, her camera hanging loosely around her neck as she snapped photos of the little things that caught her eye—vibrant flower pots outside the bakery, the way the sunlight hit the water down by the pier, the lazy way a dog napped on the sidewalk in front of the bookstore. She had been in a bit of a creative slump lately, but today felt different. She'd gotten this idea to document the town. A sort of visual love letter to Blue Harbor.

She stopped for a moment, camera raised, and captured someone strolling past. Lowering the camera, Sadie smiled and jogged over. "Hey, sorry to interrupt," she said, her voice warm, "but I just took a photo of you for a project I’m working on. It's a 'day-in-the-life' of the town kinda thing, just capturing random moments. Is it okay if I use the photo?"

[just-foster]

He and Phoebe were back on regular texting terms, and he found himself glued to his phone now more than ever. He'd thought it would be impossible to be only friends with her, but each day was getting easier. As always, it turned out Phoebe was right — and it was way more painful cutting her out of his life entirely than having her in whatever capacity she was willing to give him.

A soft smile pulled at his lips as he read her latest text, one he didn't even realize until a woman came over telling him she'd just taken his picture. "Uh," his brow furrowed, at first at a loss for what to say. It wasn't like he was precious or paranoid about people looking at him, but 'a project' sounded so vague and he didn't know what it would be used for. "I mean, sure? What's the project?"

[just-foster]

Foster had been so scared of love, he couldn't remember if there was ever a time Phoebe had said it to him when she wasn't crying. These past weeks without her, it had been all he had wanted — for her to just say it again and he'd finally say it back to her— but now that he heard it, it didn't feel the way he thought it would. In fact, it made him feel like kind of a monster.

He had to bite his lip to stop himself from immediately taking it back, telling her they'd do whatever she wanted so long as it made her stop crying. It was like a cavity in his chest cracking open, tearing wider the divide between the part of him that wanted to make her happy and the part that wanted to keep her safe. Once, he had thought they could be the same thing, but as with everything he touched, it could never be that easy.

Phoebe loved him, but with time and distance she would get over that. She would see that she deserved better than a love she had to feel ashamed of, whether it was swallowed because of his insecurities, or hobbled by his poor choices. She deserved a love that she could be proud of, that she wouldn't always have to choke out around tears.

Better. She deserved better. And has much as it broke his heart, he knew one day she would find it.

"Thank you," he replied hoarsely. For her offer, but really more just for everything. She had been so much more than he ever thought he would get. "We gave it a shot, huh?" It was all thanks of her. He only wished that he had been worthy of it. "No one can say we didn't give it a shot..."

[thephoebeyates]

This hurt more than the first time. Then, the anger had been overwhelming, and her vision had been tainted with red. There was no anger left now, but rather devastation. That there was nothing left to do now, except mourn their relationship for yet a second time. A few hiccups escaped her as she tried her best to settle the tears, and on instinct — constantly seeking comfort within Foster’s presence — laid her head on his shoulder, eyes trained to the sidewalk they were crouched on.

“We gave it a shot.” She repeated in a shaky breath, even though uttering it aloud seemed like the final nail in the coffin. That there was no going back from this, only forward. As much as she wanted to cling to their past, it was only going to hurt them if she did. And Foster deserved to move on. If he chose to leave town, if he chose to find someone else less difficult, less immature, then she could take it. Her heart could only break so many times, after all. 

Soon, she’d have to call an Uber and get herself home. Wipe off the makeup — streaked thanks to her tears — take off this ridiculous outfit she wore for….what? All it did was make the mess between them even bigger. Lay in her small double bed, the one that now felt huge and endless without Foster by her side. But for now, in the present, she could just sit with him a while longer, delay the inevitable. Phoebe was never one who could move on, but she’d have to, for his sake, for hers. 

If you loved something, you set it free. And she truly loved Foster more than anything. Now it was time to let him go.

[just-foster]

—The End.