SPEAK YOUR MIND, BUT RIDE A FAST HORSE ✷ Morgan Beau Weston. ✷ 31 years old. ✷ From Helena, Montana. ✷ Living in Los Angeles, California. ✷ Horse wrangler. ✷ Son of Cash and Anita Weston. ✷ Oldest brother. ✷ Ask me, if there is anything else.
WHO: Morgan Weston, to Eva Anderson and Noah Puckerman
WHERE: Morgan's ranch
WHEN: The 17th of November
WHY: Morgan returns to LA and has two important voice notes to send
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of death
SONG INSPIRATION: Barry Manilow - Mandy
Morgan sat alone on his front porch, the scent of hay and leather filling the cool California evening. The ride back from Montana felt like it had lasted a lifetime. His granddad’s last moments, so achingly peaceful, had left Morgan reeling. He’d had his breakdown in the barn, where his grandmother had comforted him, but the drive home, he could only hear one thing that she'd told him, before his granddad had passed away. 'Sometimes lettin’ go is the kindest thing you can do for someone else.' Now, his heart felt raw, stripped bare by grief and regret.
In his hand, his phone weighed heavy, like a truth he hadn’t yet dared to tell. This place, his ranch, had always been a haven, a place of peace. But now it felt lonely, a quiet space where every shadow seemed to whisper of memories - of times he’d shared with Eva and Puck, of the laughter, of the silent moments, of his mistakes. He knew he had to let them go. Not because he wanted to, but because he finally understood it was the right thing to do. And he wanted to do it right, for once.
Morgan took a shaky breath as he started the first recording. His voice, raw and unsteady, broke through the quiet.
“Noah... hey. It’s Morgan.” He stopped, struggling to find the words. “I don’t-... I don’t even know where to start, except that I’m so, so sorry. I let you down in ways I can’t take back. I kept tellin’ myself that I was protectin’ you, but the truth is, I was protectin’ myself - from my own damn cowardice. I kept holdin’ onto you, makin’ you believe I was ready to give you my whole heart when I was still just... tryin' to figure out what kinda man I should be. And you deserved more than what I was givin’ you.”
His throat tightened, but he pushed forward. “I've just returned from Montana after a week of havin' been there, and-err... I got your letter, man, it arrived. I don't know what's in it, but I'll read it tonight. But I, um...well, I lost my granddad, but, err-...it was also a good opportunity to speak to my grandmother, who put things into perspective for me.” Clenching his jaw, he knew he had to continue, so he kept pressing down on the record button.
“Noah, you brought so much light into my life. And I was too blind and stubborn to see it the way I should’ve. You deserved honesty, and instead, I hurt you by not tellin’ you how lost I was, by things I thought had and hadn't been said, and then, God, I went and made it worse. It kills me to know that I caused you that pain. I’m so sorry. If I could take back even a fraction of the hurt I caused, I would. You mean-..." His voice was shaking on the other end, his eyes stinging, but he swallowed and pushed through. "You meant everything to me. You made me feel whole for the first time in my life. But I’m learnin’ that love isn’t about holdin’ on when you know you’re not what they need. I get it now. When you love someone you have to let them go. So, I’m lettin’ you go, Noah. I hope you find the happiness I couldn’t give you. You deserve more than what I can ever give you. But I’ll always, always love you for the amazingly kind and sympathetic man you are, I know that much, deep in my heart. Your smile, your warmth, your ability to be calm in stressful situations- I love everything about you. And that's on me, for not cherishing that. You will find someone who will. Goodbye, Noah.”
The recording ended, but the ache stayed sharp and relentless in his chest as he stared down at the phone. He knew there was one more message he needed to send. One more person he had to be honest with.
Morgan opened a new recording, his voice even shakier this time.
“Eva, hey. It’s me. This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but-... I can’t keep this all in anymore. I owe you the truth, after every damn lie I told myself, and every time I held onto you without sayin’ what I really felt.”
He drew in a deep, trembling breath, feeling the weight of each word.
“I thought maybe if I just held on tight enough, things would magically make sense. That I’d wake up one day and know exactly what I wanted, that you’d still be there, that you’d forgive me for makin’ you wait. But that ain’t fair, is it? You deserved to know how much you meant to me, how much I-... how much I love you, Eva. Instead, I tried to show you through big gestures, and screaming it from the top of my lungs, but it didn't do anythin' else, other than prove how big of an idiot I am, for not treasuring you when I did have you.”
A quiet tear slipped down his cheek, and he let it fall.
“I should've told you how I felt, between you and I. You're not the type of person who likes these things, you're private and so am I. And I should've been brave enough to do that, just the two of us. Instead, I also went and acted like a damn fool, and played with your heart. And then, as if that wasn't enough, I just held on while you waited, makin’ you feel small, makin’ you feel like a backup. I went and did what I did. It was about me, tryin’ to figure out what I wanted, but the truth is, I knew what I wanted the moment I met you at that mixer event. I wanted you. But I was confused and my communication should've been clearer, and I’m so, so sorry. I know it’s too little, too late, but I need you to know I would take it all back if I could. I’d never make you feel that kind of hurt again.”
He paused, his voice barely a whisper as he continued.
“I just wanted to let you know that I've just been to Montana for a week. My grandma gave me some good advice. And I realized that you deserve someone who loves you as much as I do, but who doesn't break your heart, at all. So I’m lettin’ you go now, Eva. I know that I ain't the only person who sees you for the amazin', infuriating, wonderful woman you are, and if I could back in time, and show you it from the moment I met you, I would. But I can't. I can only show you how much I truly love you, by lettin' you go. I love you more than I know how to say, but you'll find someone who will.”
He exhaled slowly, letting go of everything he’d kept inside.
“Goodbye, Eva.”
As he hit send, Morgan’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again. He’d given them the freedom to find happiness without him holding them back. And while it left him with an emptiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever fill, he knew it was the right thing. For Eva. For Noah. And for himself.
faith has been broken, tears must be cried || self-thread
WHO: Morgan Weston & Granny Weston
WHERE: The Weston Farm, Montana
WHEN: Friday the 15th of November
WHY: Morgan has a breakdown
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of death.
SONG INSPIRATION: Wild Horses - Rolling Stones
The funeral had been a quiet affair - just family and a few old friends. His granddad’s passing had left an emptiness in the house, a void that seemed to echo in every corner, in every creak of the floorboards and the stillness of the Montana air. After everyone left, the weight of the loss started to sink in, pressing on Morgan’s chest like a heavy saddle he couldn’t shake off.
Morgan found himself sitting on the back porch alone, staring out at the fields his granddad had worked for years. It was nearing dusk, the sky turning a shade of purple that bled into the horizon, and he could almost imagine his granddad out there, walking the fence line, checking the horses, making sure everything was just right. But now, the fields looked empty, like something vital was missing.
He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning as he tried to hold back the storm that was building inside him. Evelyn had gone to bed hours ago, her grief quieter, more contained, like the sadness of someone who had spent a lifetime preparing for this kind of goodbye. But Morgan wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the man who’d taught him everything worth knowing, who’d been a constant in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control.
He took a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the porch railing until his knuckles turned white. He thought about Eva and Puck - how he’d lost them too. He thought about his career, which seemed so promising from the outside, but lately felt like it was slipping away, one opportunity at a time. He thought about the ranch in LA, the empty house that was supposed to be a home. And then he thought about his granddad’s final moments, the words he wished he could’ve said, the time he wished he could’ve had.
It all felt like too much, the pressure building in his chest until it was hard to breathe. He stood up abruptly, feeling like he needed to move, to do something - anything - to outrun the feeling threatening to consume him. He stalked off the porch, his boots crunching on the gravel, heading to the barn where the old tools hung on the walls and the smell of hay and horses felt like the only steady thing in his life.
But the barn wasn’t the sanctuary he hoped it would be. As soon as he stepped inside, the memories hit him like a fist to the gut. He saw his granddad’s old workbench, the place where they’d spent hours fixing saddles and mending fences. He saw the half-finished projects, the worn work jacket that he'd clutched the other day now resting on the counter, and it felt like the ghost of his granddad was lingering in every shadow.
Morgan reached for the jacket, bringing it up to his nose. His granddad's warm scent still lingered and went straight to his brain, flooding it with memories of a happy childhood and upbringing that he could only thank his granddad for. But his hands were trembling too much to hold onto the jacket. He slammed it back down on the bench, his chest heaving as the tears he’d been holding back finally broke free. He stumbled backwards, knocking over a crate of tools that clattered to the ground, the noise echoing in the empty barn.
“Dammit!” he yelled, his voice cracking as he sank to the ground, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. He buried his face in his hands, feeling like the world was collapsing around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He let the tears come, heavy and relentless, all the grief and frustration pouring out of him in ragged sobs. He wasn’t just mourning his granddad - he was mourning everything he’d lost, everything he couldn’t fix. Eva and Puck, the ranch, his career, the mistakes he couldn’t undo. It all felt like too much to carry, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have the strength to keep pretending he was okay.
He cried until he couldn’t anymore, until he was just sitting there in the dark, feeling empty and exhausted. The barn was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of hay and the distant chirping of crickets outside. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of his own failures, his own losses, and he didn’t know how to dig himself out.
For a long time, he just sat there, staring at nothing, feeling numb. He couldn’t bring himself to move, to stand up and face the reality of everything that had gone wrong. All he could do was sit there in the dark, wishing he could turn back time, fix what was broken, and find his way back to the man he used to be.
But there was no going back. There was only the silence of the barn, the emptiness in his chest, and the heavy ache of grief that felt like it might never fade.
He didn’t know how long he sat there before he heard the quiet creak of the barn door opening. He didn’t look up - he didn’t have the energy to face anyone, not even his grandmother. But then he heard Evelyn’s soft footsteps, and she was there beside him, lowering herself onto the ground with a grace that seemed impossible for someone her age.
She didn’t say anything at first. She just sat with him in the dark, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering a silent comfort that felt more real than words ever could. And for the first time in a long time, Morgan let himself lean into her touch, feeling the warmth of her presence, the quiet strength that had always held him up.
“I miss him too, bubba,” she finally whispered, her voice steady despite the tears he knew she must have shed. “But you’re not alone in this.”
Morgan let out a shuddering breath, the words hitting him like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his grief settle in his chest, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it would crush him. It still hurt, and it would keep hurting, but maybe - just maybe - he didn’t have to carry it all by himself.
And in that quiet moment, sitting in the dark with his grandmother, Morgan finally let himself believe that things could get better, even if it took a long, long time.
WHY: Morgan gets the most useful advice from his granny.
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of heart attack, illness and death.
SONG INSPIRATION: Jeanette Nolan - Goodbye May Seem Forever
Morgan sat at the kitchen table, staring at the half-empty cup of coffee in front of him. The house was quiet except for the occasional groan of the old pipes and the distant clucking of the hens outside. His grandmother, Evelyn, moved gracefully around the kitchen, making biscuits from scratch like she had every morning for decades. The rhythm of her movements, the sound of flour sifting, and the scent of butter sizzling in the cast-iron skillet made everything feel achingly familiar.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at him as she worked. “You’ve got that look on your face,” she said lightly, not unkindly. “The same one you used to wear when you got into trouble as a boy and didn’t know how to confess.”
Morgan huffed a quiet laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I did,” he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his mug.
She didn’t press him right away. Instead, she slid a plate of fresh biscuits in front of him, patting his shoulder as she took the seat across from him. Her hands rested on the table, fingers laced, and she gave him that patient, all-seeing look that only grandmothers seemed to master.
“You haven't talked to me in a long time, bubba,” Evelyn started, her voice gentle but with an edge of concern. However, there was no judgment to be found in her tone. “You've not been doing well.”
Morgan shifted uncomfortably, running a thumb over the rim of his cup. He didn’t know how to explain it all - how he’d felt like a man trying to patch up a sinking ship with band-aids. “I've been chasing after people, tryin' to prove my love to 'em. I sent them flowers, and made them their favorite meals, and everythin',” he admitted, feeling a heaviness press against his chest.
Evelyn sighed softly, her eyes studying him like she was searching for something deeper than words. “Morgan,” she began, her voice steady, “you’ve always been good at trying to make things right. You get that from your granddad, always thinkin’ that if you just worked hard enough, you could fix whatever was broken.”
He swallowed, feeling the truth of her words cut deeper than he expected. It was true - he’d always tried to do just that. Whether it was his career or his relationships, he worked himself to the bone to set things straight.
“But sometimes,” Evelyn continued, leaning forward slightly, “all that work isn’t fixin’ anything. It’s just keepin’ you busy so you don’t have to face what’s really wrong.”
Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. She wasn’t finished anyway.
“I don’t doubt your heart’s in the right place,” she said softly. “But you need to understand that love isn’t about grand gestures or trying to prove somethin’. What you’ve been doin’- all those flowers and whatnot, bubba, they’re not gonna erase the pain you caused.”
The words stung, but he knew she was right. He lowered his head, staring at the grooves in the wooden table, trying to ignore the way his chest ached.
“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” he whispered, his voice sounding small and lost.
Evelyn reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “I know you didn’t, sweetheart,” she replied. “But intentions don’t always keep people from getting hurt. You were tryin’ to hang on to somethin’ that was already slippin’ away.”
Morgan’s throat tightened, and he clenched his jaw to keep the emotion from spilling out. “What was I supposed to do then?” he asked, his voice thick with frustration. “Just let them go?”
Her fingers squeezed his hand gently, and she gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Sometimes lettin’ go is the kindest thing you can do for someone else, and for yourself. You’ve been chasin’ after them like if you run hard enough, you can outrun what happened. But Morgan, you can’t.”
It finally clicked for him in that moment - the weight of her words sinking into his bones. He’d been chasing something that wasn’t there anymore, trying to fix what was shattered, not realizing that in his desperation, he was only making the cracks deeper.
Morgan took a shaky breath, feeling like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. It wasn’t just about the flowers or the meals; it was about him refusing to accept that some things couldn’t be fixed. And in trying so hard, he hadn’t just hurt Eva and Puck - he’d hurt himself too.
“What do I do now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid of the answer.
Evelyn’s expression softened, and she reached up to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead like she used to do when he was a kid. “You start by forgivin’ yourself, Morgan. And you give them time and space to heal too. And maybe, you find a way to heal on your own.”
Morgan nodded slowly, feeling a strange mixture of relief and sadness wash over him. He didn’t know if he was ready to let go completely, but he understood now that he couldn’t keep running himself ragged, trying to piece back together a story that had already ended.
Evelyn squeezed his hand one last time before getting up to tend to the stove, her movements graceful and sure. “Life has a way of teachin’ us lessons,” she said, her back turned to him. “It’s up to us whether we’re willing to listen.”
She turned off the stove, and moved to the coffee pot, grabbing it and went to pour more coffee into Morgan's cup - the dark rings under his eyes could tell anyone that he needed it. “I'm gonna go and check on your granddad.”
Morgan sat there for a long time after she left, staring at his coffee, thinking about what she’d said. For the first time in weeks, he felt something loosen in his chest - a small sense of acceptance. It wasn’t the happy ending he’d hoped for, but it felt like the beginning of something else.
His thoughts were quickly interrupted though, the small footsteps from his grandmother hurrying into the kitchen. "Morgan, come quick, something's wrong!"
empty clothes that fall and drape on empty chairs || self-thread
WHO: Morgan Weston, Granny Weston & Granddad Weston
WHERE: The Weston Farm, Montana
WHEN: Tuesday the 12th of November
WHY: Morgan returns to Montana for a bit, seeing to his sick granddad.
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of heart attack, illness and death.
SONG INSPIRATION: Don McLean - Empty Chairs
Morgan’s boots crunched softly on the gravel drive of his grandparents' farm, a place that felt frozen in time. The fields stretched wide, painted with golden autumn light, and the cool Montana air wrapped around him like an old memory. He took a deep breath, smelling the familiar blend of hay and earth, as the front porch creaked under his weight. This place always felt like it was waiting for him to come home, a quiet sentinel to his restless heart.
His granny, Evelyn, stood at the door, her blue cardigan draped loosely over thin shoulders. She smiled, but her eyes were clouded with the weight of everything left unsaid. She reached out, her fingers curling around his arm as if testing to make sure he was really there.
“Granny,” Morgan whispered, his voice cracking despite himself.
“Hey, bubba,” Evelyn replied softly, pulling him into a tight embrace. She smelled like flour and roses - like every Sunday morning from his childhood when she’d bake while humming old Loretta Lynn songs. For a moment, Morgan just let himself be a kid again, safe and small in his grandmother’s arms.
Evelyn pulled back to look at him. “You look tired,” she said, her voice gentle but knowing.
Morgan tried to offer her one of his easy smiles, but it felt heavy and hollow. “Long drive,” he answered, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.
She just nodded and held onto his hand as she led him inside. The house was the same - lace curtains, framed photographs of grandchildren, the quilt Evelyn made by hand covering the back of the couch. He could almost pretend things hadn’t changed if it wasn’t for the silence in the room, like everyone was holding their breath.
“He’s in the bedroom,” Evelyn said, her voice wavering. “He’s awake, but… he’s not really all there.”
Morgan’s jaw tightened, a futile attempt to stop the tremor in his chest. He nodded, squeezing her hand once before letting go. She stayed behind, giving him space to gather himself before he stepped into the room.
When he entered the bedroom, it felt like all the noise in his head went still. His granddad, Joe, lay on the bed, propped up on pillows. His once-powerful frame looked smaller, deflated, like a balloon that had slowly lost its air. The steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring, but his eyes were dull and unfocused, fixed on something far beyond the four walls.
Morgan swallowed, feeling a knot of sorrow tighten in his throat. He took off his hat, smoothing down his hair as he approached the bed. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say on the drive over, but now, words felt like a foreign language.
“Hey, granddad,” he whispered, grabbing the old wooden chair from the corner. His granddad's old work jacket hung over it, and Morgan grabbed it before sitting down on the old wooden chair beside the bed. The last time he’d sat in that chair, his granddad had been telling him stories about bronc riding and the old days. Now, the silence felt like a heavy, invisible thing pressing down on both of them.
Joe didn’t respond, his eyes still focused somewhere Morgan couldn’t reach. Morgan put the jacket in his lap and reached out, his rough hand covering the weathered, fragile hand of the man who taught him how to rope a calf and shoot straight. He remembered those hands being strong enough to split logs and gentle enough to cradle baby chicks.
“Granddad,” Morgan tried again, his voice hoarse. “It’s me. It’s Morgan.”
For a long moment, there was no recognition, just the quiet ticking of the old clock in the corner. But then Joe’s hand twitched slightly under his own, a small movement that felt like a lifeline. Morgan clung to it, swallowing back tears.
“They tell me you’re givin’ the nurses a hard time,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, like it used to be. “Still raisin’ hell even to hospital staff, huh?”
He wasn’t sure if his granddad could hear him or if any of it made sense, but he kept talking, telling Joe about the ranch, about the new horse that was a handful, and the California weather that was nowhere near the kind in Montana. He rambled about anything and everything, hoping that somewhere in his words, Joe might find his way back, if only for a moment.
But deep down, Morgan knew. The doctor had said there wasn’t much time left, and the man lying in front of him was already more memory than flesh. Still, he stayed, because his granddad deserved more than the quiet resignation that had settled over the house.
Morgan finally went quiet, staring at the old wedding photo on the nightstand - a young Joe and Evelyn grinning at the camera, their whole lives ahead of them. He blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over and gripped Joe’s hand tighter.
“I- I’ve been messin’ up a lot lately,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Love’s a hell of a thing, and I can’t seem to get it right.”
The words felt raw and painful in the quiet room, the confession echoing like a secret he’d been holding too close to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering Eva’s eyes, Puck’s smile - memories that now felt too heavy to bear alone.
“But bein’ here-... it kinda reminds me what’s important,” he continued, his voice steadying. “I just wanted to be home... with you.”
Morgan stayed with his granddad for what felt like hours, holding onto the worn jacket in his lap and the silence, hoping it might somehow heal what had been broken - both in himself and the man lying in the bed.
As the sun began to set, the shadows in the room lengthened, and Evelyn peeked in through the door, her eyes soft and sad. She didn’t say anything, just smiled at the sight of Morgan sitting beside his granddad, their hands still intertwined.
Morgan knew he couldn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, but he could be here, in this moment, with the people who’d always been his anchor. And for now, that was enough.
there never seems to be enough time || self-thread
WHO: Morgan Weston & Anita Weston
WHERE: Morgan's ranch
WHEN: Monday the 11th of November
WHY: Morgan gets a phonecall about his granddad.
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of heart attack and illness
SONG INSPIRATION: Jim Croce - Time in a Bottle
Morgan was busy fixing a broken gate on the ranch when his phone rang, vibrating insistently in the pocket of his worn jeans. The sun was already setting, casting long shadows over the fields, and he was in the middle of tightening a stubborn bolt. He pulled out his phone, not recognizing the number at first, but the area code was Montana. He wiped his brow and answered, half-focused on the gate in front of him.
“Hello?”
There was a moment of silence, followed by a familiar voice that sent a chill down his spine.
“Morgan?” It was his mother, Anita. Her voice was tight, holding back something. He could always tell when she was trying not to break, even over the phone.
“Ma?” Morgan dropped the wrench he was holding, turning his full attention to the call. “What’s goin’ on?”
Anita hesitated for a second, and that hesitation felt like a lifetime. Morgan could hear her breathing, slow and deliberate, like she was trying to find the right words. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest, an instinctual dread curling up inside him.
“It’s your granddad,” she finally said, her voice cracking just enough to let a hint of fear slip through. "He- he had a heart attack.”
Morgan’s mind went blank, and it felt like the world around him stopped moving. He leaned against the gate to steady himself, his legs suddenly weak. He could hear the horses rustling in the distance, the gentle clinking of metal from their tack, but it all seemed muffled - like he was underwater.
“Is…is he okay?” Morgan asked, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t know what answer he was hoping for - only that he needed her to keep talking, to fill the silence with anything other than what he feared most.
“He’s alive,” Anita said quickly, and Morgan could almost feel her trying to reach through the phone to comfort him. “But it’s bad, Morgan. The doctors said it’s not looking good. He-… he’s not responsive.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he doubled over, his free hand gripping the gate so hard his knuckles turned white. His granddad - his rock, his mentor - was always the strong one. The idea of him lying in a hospital bed, helpless and unresponsive, felt impossible.
“Where are you?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Are you at the hospital?”
“Yes, I’m here with your dad and grandmother,” Anita replied, and Morgan could hear the exhaustion in her voice, the weight of carrying this alone until she called him. His parents must’ve gone back to Montana to make sure what the state of his granddad was like, before calling the kids.
“You need to come home, Morgan. As soon as you can.” Morgan closed his eyes, trying to hold himself together, but the world felt like it was crumbling around him. “I’ll be there,” he managed to say, his voice rough. “I’ll be there soon.”
There was a pause, and he could hear Anita taking a shaky breath on the other end of the line. “We’re at Saint Joseph’s right, but I’ll call you if he comes home, okay? Be safe.”
“I will,” he promised, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears.
After he hung up, Morgan stood there for a moment, staring down at the phone in his hand, trying to process what he’d just heard. He felt numb, like everything around him had lost its color, its life. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself, but all he could think about was his granddad - lying in that hospital bed, alone.
The thought snapped him out of his daze. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep standing still, doing nothing. He had to go, had to be there, had to do something. Morgan shoved his phone back into his pocket and rushed toward the barn, his boots pounding against the gravel, his mind racing ahead of him.
As he saddled up his horse to ride back to the house, he could feel the panic starting to bubble up, his hands shaking as he tightened the girth strap. He needed to pack, book a flight, talk to his co-workers that he was leaving, needed to make a plan for the horses, all the commitments he had, business meetings - but all he could think about was getting to Montana, seeing his granddad, and somehow fixing this - even if he knew in the back of his mind that this wasn’t something he could fix.
The ranch felt empty as he rode toward the house, the long shadows stretching across the dusty yard. For the first time in his life, Morgan didn’t feel at home here - he felt like he was miles away from where he needed to be.
When he reached the house, he didn’t waste a second. He threw his tack in the barn, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He pushed open the front door, rushing to his room to grab a bag, his hands moving on autopilot. He grabbed clothes, his toothbrush, his worn leather hat, and a few essentials. He felt like he was in a daze, moving through the motions but not really thinking, not really feeling.
As he zipped up his bag, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He looked wild, his eyes wide with worry, his hair disheveled, and his breathing unsteady. He stared at himself for a moment, trying to recognize the man looking back at him. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.
All he could hear was his mother’s voice, and the words she hadn’t said out loud - the fear, the uncertainty, the unspoken possibility that his granddad might not be there when he arrived. Sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, he felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wanted to cry, to yell, to break something - but he didn’t have time for any of that. He had to keep moving.
He grabbed his bag and rushed out the door, not bothering to lock up behind him. He felt like he was leaving more than just the ranch behind - he was leaving a piece of himself, the part that believed everything would always be okay in the end.
Because right now, everything felt like it was falling apart.
WHY: Andy calls Morgan to ask for help with their car, and there's a small breakthrough in their relationship.
WARNINGS: None
ANDY:
Andy wanted to scream. Their truck was old but it was good. It ran well and they didn't tend to have problems with it. Except when they did. And when they did, it was tricky. It was never something straight forward. Which meant that it almost always cost more to fix than it should. But none of that immediately mattered. What mattered was that Andy was supposed to be taking Oakley to daycare so they could get to work. Sure, they could call their parents and get a ride, but that didn't fix their truck or solve the issue of later in the day. So, they dialed the one number of the one person who they knew could fix this, because he'd done it before, Morgan. They weren't sure he would answer, but they had to hope he would.
MORGAN:
Back to work, and back to his regular routine after his shoulder injury, Morgan was busy cleaning out the stalls while the horses were outside, grazing on the pasture, when he felt a buzz in his pocket, coming from his phone. A furrow painted his face as he got worried when he saw who the caller was, and he instantly picked it up, leaning against the rake. "Andy? Are you okay?" They weren't exactly speaking - even though they'd tried - it still wasn't casual between them, so he could only assume that something had happened to them.
ANDY:
They thanked the gods under their breath when he picked up. "I'm fine. Oakley is fine. But... my truck is doing the stupid thing it does sometimes and I don't have the time to get it to an actual mechanic this morning, without missing work, and... can you help? Just this once. Even if it's just enough for me to get through my work day so I can get it to a mechanic." They hated asking him, but he really was the only person who they knew could get it fixed even for the short term right now.
MORGAN:
Morgan could almost feel the entire universe's weight get off of his shoulders when Andy reassured him that they were okay - both of them. After what had happened with Andy's dad, there was always a slight paranoia. Nodding along as he listened, Morgan bit the inside of his cheek. It was nice that Andy thought of him, even though it was just for his knowledge of cars and how to fix them. "Yeah, sure, of course! Text me your address and I'll be right there." He promised, and started heading out to his car, dropping the rake, so he could hurry over.
ANDY:
"Thanks for this, I owe you." They texted him their address to him. "Sent it. I can let you go until you get here? My place isn't super hard to find."
MORGAN:
The phone buzzed against his ear, and he knew he'd received it. "Thanks," a hand dug into his pocket for his car keys, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you in a bit." He told them, before getting into the car and hanging up the phone so he could make his way over to Andy. The drive was quick, thanks to an easy route on his phone's GPS, and he saw Andy and the truck as he pulled up and parked. "Hey," He greeted them, with a soft smile. "I can't believe you still haven't changed this ol' thing out." Morgan joked, and casually went to pop the hood of the car, as if he knew it like the back of his hand; which he kind of did.
ANDY:
"See you soon." Andy hung up and sighed. This sucked. They hated that this is what they were having to do, but such was life. They let Oakley out of his car seat and allowed him to play in the yard while they sat on the tailgate to wait. "Hey," they greeted, hopping off the tailgate, "and she's good to me, why would I get a new one?" Andy knew their truck was dying and the they should get a me one, but it was hard.
MORGAN:
"Hmm, maybe because this keeps happenin'?" Morgan teased, his voice heavy with thick irony, knowing that if anyone could take it, it was Andy. Looking into the engine, Morgan didn't take long to locate the problem. It was the same issue as always. "The valves are worn-out, hold on," Morgan said, moving towards his own truck so he could get his toolbox out of it. He always carried that around with him. "Maybe a clean will help it drive 'round, until I get you some new ones. It'll be a temporary fix, and I can't guarantee that it'll work, but I can try." He told them, and started screwing them out. His eyes remained on the engine, but his interest was elsewhere. "How's life otherwise?"
ANDY:
"It hasn't happened in a while." Which was true. Happened maybe once or twice in the last few years. Not to say other things hadn't happened, of course, cause they had, but Andy wasn't going to mention that. Their truck meant a lot to them and they knew they needed a new one, but like a lot of things in this life, Andy was bound to use it until they couldn't anymore. "Look, I just need the damn thing to get me through today and I'll figure it out from there. So anythin' you can do to get it working again is worth it." Andy shrugged at his question. "It's alright, nothing big going on or anything like that. What about you?"
MORGAN:
Humming to himself, Morgan nodded with that cheeky smirk on his lips. Andy was stubborn and that certainly hadn't changed. Screwing the parts loose, he collected them in his pockets, keeping them safe as he started cleaning and polishing them. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked at Andy. "Can't complain, I guess. My shoulder's finally healed, which I'm grateful for," he sniffed, and gave Andy a small smile. "How's Oakley findin' LA?"
ANDY:
Andy nodded, leaning against the truck as they watched him, something they felt like they'd done so many times before. "That's good, imagine it makes work easier." At his question about Oakley they shrugged. "He's taken to it better than I ever did, which I'm grateful for. Kid deserves to not have to struggle to adapt to life."
MORGAN:
Raising his eyebrows, Morgan felt a pang of deja vu, remembering this exact scenario happening back in Montana, when Andy would watch him fix up the old cars with his granddad. "Oh yeah," he chuckled and shook his head. "I tried really hard not to work so it could heal quicker, but d'ya know how hard it is to just-...not?" Morgan chuckled to himself. He'd struggled a lot. Nodding, Morgan agreed with Andy's statement. "That's great, though. I've been thinkin' 'bout him and how he's adjusted to it all. I remember how hard I found it myself, comin' here. But then again, I was a lot older, so the age probably makes a big difference, huh?"
ANDY:
Andy chuckled. "It's you, so I imagine you felt a bit like you were losing your mind." They had experienced something similar when they were pregnant, having tossed themself into their work to forget and ignore, so when they'd been unable to work it had been rough, but they'd never quite been the type of workaholic that Morgan was. "Him being younger does seem to help. And now that we have a set routine and the house is set up, I think he's been able to really settle down and settle in. New normal was easier to find for him."
MORGAN:
Nodded, letting out a laugh. If anyone knew that about Morgan, it was Andy. They knew him like the back of their hand. "Losing my mind doesn't even come close to it," He looked at the valve, and deemed it clean enough to screw back into place. "Well, that's great, Andy! And, y'know, if he's still got that fascination with horses, you're still always more than welcome to come out, you know that." He told her, finishing screwing the valve into place. "Alright, try turnin' on the car now."
ANDY:
Andy chuckled, shaking their head. Of course it didn't, but at least he could admit it. Whether he realized what that meant about himself, Andy didn't know, but it wasn't their place to point it out for him. Especially not these days. "He does, and I'm sure he'd like that, if I can swing it one of these days." The weekends were easiest, but Andy also knew that they didn't always want to go places and interact with people during their free time, even when it was good for both them and Oakley. They nodded as he spoke about trying to turn it on and climbed up in. They turned the key and while it almost looked like it wasn't going to start, it thankfully did. They grinned. "I owe you one, seriously."
MORGAN:
It had taken Morgan's entire life up until now, to find out that there was more to life than just work, and unfortunately, he'd discovered it a little too late when it came to his and Andy's relationship. But he still wanted them in his life. "You're always welcome," he told them, a gentle smile hiding beneath the beard. As he heard the engine struggle but finally start again, the soft smile turned into a full-blown grin. "Nah, it was nothin'," he started, waving casually at her. "Although, if you're ever in the mood to make those triple chocolate cookies you always made back in Montana, I wouldn't turn down a batch, y'know?"
ANDY:
Andy knew he meant it. That they really were always welcome and something about that hurt. Maybe it was because of the truth of everything, the truth they'd buried so far down that some days they nearly believed themself about Morgan not being Oakley's father. Or maybe it was just that he was who he was and being around him but not being with him hurt. They tried not to dwell on such thoughts. Instead, they rolled their eyes as he waved them off, only to immediately backtrack in favor of cookies. "I think a batch or two of cookies could find their way into your possession."
MORGAN:
Packing his tools away as the car rumbled in the background, Morgan grinned, pleased with the fact that he could get the car up and running again - even if it was just temporary. "And this is why you're my best friend," He smiled, grabbing his toolbox and walking up to the car door where Andy was sat. "Now, remember, this is just a fix for now - with the amount of problems this ol' thing has, you oughta start thinkin' 'bout either spending a ton of money on repairs, or consider buyin' a new car. But if ya need any help, don't hesitate to call me again, okay?"
ANDY:
Andy bit the inside of their lip at his words. They didn't have the energy to argue that they hadn't been his friend, much less his best friend, in a very long time. Not when he'd just done something nice for them. Not when they still had so much left to do in their morning. "I will keep that in mind. Thanks, again, Morgan. Really saved me today."
blame it on the goose, got you feeling loose, blame it on the tron got you in the zone || BRORGAN
tagging: Morgan Weston ( @morgan-weston ) & Bree Brown
date & time: October 25-26, 2024 from Friday Night to Saturday Morning
location: Gay Club, Bar, Tattoo Parlor, Party Bus, Hummer Limousine, who knows where else, Morgan's Ranch
warnings: excessive drinking, black out runk, mentions of a physical fight, A LOT OF ALCOHOL
summary: Look the only thing anyone needs to know if that Bree and Morgan got white girl wasted and had one hell of an adventure. Cue montage!
word count: 3,785
MORGAN tipped back his glass and set it down with a clink that blended into the buzz of the bar. The neon lights played tricks with his eyes, blurring together, and he couldn’t tell if the room was spinning or if that was just the whiskey. The whole point of this night was supposed to be for Bree to see the wild and untamed side of Morgan that normally never came out. He hadn’t been much for it - he liked being in control of himself, and with enough alcohol in his system, he just knew there’d be none of that. But after a rough week - after the earthquake lockdown - where Morgan had tried his damnedest to communicate about his thoughts and feelings to and with every single person involved in the mess, it had backfired, and he felt the need to let loose and take Bree up on her offer. And here he was, absolutely not in control of himself, due to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. Dressed in a blue denim shirt, a pair of black jeans and his best boots, Morgan had followed Bree’s orders and in return, she’d kept him entertained. He’d even willingly done a round of karaoke where he absolutely butchered Kenny Roger’s “The Gambler”. Now, standing in the gay club, he could see why she wanted him in the country get-up; it was a cowboy-themed night and everyone was dressed up. He was thankful he hadn’t put on his best rodeo attire, otherwise he probably would’ve gotten nominated for ‘best costume’. Morgan glanced around the bar, taking in the warmth of the crowded space. Strangers laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world, couples swaying like no one was watching, and Bree, with that fierce and steady look that she was known for. He was swaying lightly, and his cowboy hat was lost somewhere, but he turned towards her, a dopey smile on his lips. “D’ya have a cigarette?”
BREE had started planning this night since the moment Morgan agreed to let her drag him around where her little heart desired and she was taking full advantage. As she knew this would likely never happen again. So far, everything was perfect, they were killing it as cowgirl Barbie and cowboy Ken, the shopping, fruitful, the food, delicious, the karaoke pre-game, efficient. And Morgan hadn't complained more than twice about any of it. Now, she didn't know what exactly this man was going through to get him out with her tonight, and she wasn't about to ask but she really hoped she was succeeding at keeping his mind of it. But looking at her tall friend, shrouded in the neon lights of the cowboy themed gay club, she thought maybe she was doing exactly that, and she allowed herself a celebratory cocktail to celebrate her continued success. As she was keepin him plied with good whiskey, she wasn't surprised to see a grin on his face as he turned to her, swaying with all the rhythm she expected from a 6'5 white man. Processing his question, as she was a few drinks in herself, she shook her head. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a ziploc bag and held it up in front of their faces. "I have a lollipop, a toothpick and some hay." Had she come prepared, of course, not because she knew he'd ask for a cigarette but because cowboys chew on things, she's seen a western or two. So, it only made sense. Pointing at the mechanical bull being set up on it's on stage, ziploc bag swaying as she did, she got very excited. "We're going to ride that, but I think we both need at least three more drinks and one more Cowboy Carter remix first." Finally handing him the plastic bag, she chugged the rest of her cocktail and then poured them both two shots of rum.
MORGAN couldn’t help but chuckle at Bree’s enthusiasm. She was beaming, and he knew she was working harder than she let on to keep him from spiraling. He took the Ziploc bag from her, holding it up to the neon light like he was inspecting a treasure. "You really came prepared, huh?" he drawled, smiling down at her. "But I ain’t chewin’ on hay unless I’ve got a horse nearby.” Bree’s energy was contagious - at least enough to drag a grin out of him every time she spun another crazy plan. “Cowboy Carter remix, huh?” he echoed, shaking his head. “Well, you do know how to keep a man entertained, I’ll give you that.” He pulled the lollipop from the bag, unwrapping it and tucking it in the corner of his mouth, the feel of it familiar and steadying, and it dulled the need for that cigarette temporarily. It was a small comfort, but it was something to focus on other than the whirlwind of feelings he kept pushing down with every drink. Eva, Puck, Serena - they were still there in his mind, their faces clear even in the blur of the club. And he wasn’t sure if he was drinking to forget them or to gather the courage to face it all head-on. But Bree? She was like a compass, dragging him through this mess with the kind of loyalty he didn’t feel he deserved but was damn grateful for. But as he set the empty glass down, he let his gaze wander to the mechanical bull in the corner of the club, and he started reconsidering the whole compass metaphor. Bree was right; he needed three more drinks to get on that thing - at least! “D’ya want me to injure my shoulder again?” he asked, his voice light and jokey, but his words slurring. He’d only just gotten over it after all. “Or d’ya just want me to relive my youthful days?”
BREE nodded, very pleased with herself. "I am always prepared. Surprising me is an Olympic sport very few people have medaled in." Currently, Jake was the most likely candidate and that was both something she loved and hated. Not being in control, not knowing someone's next move caused her periodic anxiety but it was also kind of exciting and impressive, which is exactly how she would describe all of her favorite people, especially her man. Drinking some more of her long island ice tea, because she was here to get drunk and ride a bull, she looked damn hear offended at Morgan's comment. "Entertaining is but one of my many talents, mister." Uh oh, no mister, we've officially passed tipsy into stage one drunk. Which involved a lot of dancing mostly. Taking note of his words, she made a mental note, that she would probably forget in the morning, that he only chewed hay around horses, and clearly prefered lollipops over toothpicks, so she'd be sure to carry more of those in the future for him. While she was hear to encourage every questionable decision, including processed sugars, a literal cigarette? Like it's 1926? Ew. Now in a couple more shots, she might be smoking a cigarette with him. God help her. At that thought she spotted a hype as fuck, what looked like, a 30th birthday party, gravitating toward them. She had no time to answer his questions, okay, there were more pressing matters, like "Shots!" She yelled at Morgan before taking both of hers, barely feeling the burn of the spiced liquor. Then the party were floating by and Bree tapped one of them on the shoulder. "Can I buy that off you?" She asked taking out her wallet and handing them a fifty dollar bill. The person looked at her and gladly handed over the glittery hot pink boa and Bree tipped her white cowboy hat at them. And like a sign from the heaven's Beyone's Sweet Honey Buckin' came on. Going over to Morgan she told him to stand still before throwing the boa over his shoulders around his neck. Still holding the ends, she started to dance because it's a fucking Cowboy Carter song. "You're still in your youth, big guy. So move those horse riding hip and act like it!"
MORGAN was feeling the whiskey in his veins, and it wasn’t whispering - it was shouting, urging him to let loose in a way he hadn’t since Montana. When Bree threw the hot pink boa around his neck, he blinked once, twice, like he was trying to process what exactly just happened. But the room was spinning, not in a dizzy way, but in a way that made him feel like maybe he could actually catch the momentum if he just went with it. “Now hold on,” he slurred, his grin spreading like wildfire. “This- this is new territory, Bree.” He tugged the boa experimentally, laughing - a deep, booming laugh that felt like it belonged to a different Morgan, one not bogged down by all the worries in his head. The beat picked up, and he could feel Bree pulling at the boa, urging him to move. The way she was dancing, carefree and fearless, made him realize he’d been worrying about every things for too long, and it was nice to finally let go. “Alright, alright!” he hollered back, throwing up his hands. The whiskey was hot in his blood, the lights were blurring, and Morgan felt the weight of everything he’d been carrying lift. He stumbled into the beat, swaying awkwardly at first, but then finding his rhythm with a looseness that only several shots of whiskey could bring out. “You want hips?” he slurred, voice booming in playful defiance. “You got hips!” He rolled his shoulders back and dipped his knees, throwing in a slow grind. Morgan found himself throwing caution to the wind. Maybe it was the liquor, or the lights, or the wildness of the moment, but he grabbed the ends of the boa from Bree’s hands and twirled, almost knocking over a table in the process. He swayed, he stumbled, he shimmied - his cowboy boots dragging across the floor in a not-at-all elegant attempt at dancing. “Okay, Bree!” he hollered, stumbling as he tried to keep up with Bree’s dancing. “One more shot and then- ” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the mechanical bull. “Then I’m ridin’ that damn bull!”
BREE doesn't think she has ever smiled so much and so genuinely. Well, she has, but in this moment, she was convinced this was the most fun two people could ever have. Smiling as Morgan started to let loose, she started yelling, "Yes! Okay, I see you! Look at all that!" In the most joyfully supportive tone, as Morgan sort of moved to the beat. It was fun and that was the point. As he took control of the boa and almost knocked over a table, she laughed and danced with him. Then she was looking in the direction of his finger and agreeing to another shot. "Damn right you are, Cowboy!" That was pretty much that last of what she remembered. From there on out it was bits and pieces. It was lights, and the thump thump thump of the bass. It was pushing through sweaty dancing bodies to hit the side of the inflatable... pool, mat thing, surrounding the mechanical bull to catch you. Smart. Most of that was only remembered because Bree must have insisted they got it on video because they rewatched the footage of them killin' it. Well, she wouldn't know if that was true until she watched it sober. Maybe it just seemed like twenty seconds because drunk time was not sober time. Then not much, and BAM they're at a bar. Maybe it was the same club but maybe it wasn't the lights were more red and less purple/pink and the music, that was different too. Morgan ordered their drinks and Bree was distracted by a bachelorette party and talking to the bride-to-be. Yelling? Everyone turned at the damn near scretching and god dammit, Morgan. He was letting this lady lowkey beat his ass. Then Bree seemingly completed the shorted teleportation route and was yanking on hair and they were both yelling obscenities at each other. Bree must have won because the other chick got thrown out and she was high fiving that bachelorette party. Thankfully Lauren, the bride-to-be, caught it all on her phone and sent it to Bree. Unfortunately, Bree would forget who Lauren was by morning. There's a little chill outside, maybe that's because they were sticking their head out of the roof of a hummer limo. What happened to the party bus? Why were they in a tattoo parlor? Oh my God, Bree is holding Morgan's hand. Wait, how did she end up in the chair? "Come near my flawless skin with that needle and I will sue you so bad, you're great grandchilden will still be paying what you owe me!" Unsurprisingly that got them kicked out. Still she was laughing and it was good.
MORGAN's memory was swimming through messy, brightly colors. The neon lights of the club pulsed purple, then red, then a blinding blue as they danced. Then, there were flashing camera lights, the bass still thumping in his chest, and people cheering him on, while he threw one arm into the air, waving the boa like a lasso before nearly toppling over a table again. Fast forward - he barely remembered actually getting on the bull, but there was the feeling of Bree’s hand in his, dragging him toward the beast like he was headed for some kind of showdown. The crowd was cheering, their faces blurry, and the next thing he knew, he was gripping the bull’s handle for dear life, swaying wildly. The memory snapped forward to a new location. A red-lit bar? No idea where they were, but the whiskey was still flowing, and Morgan went to grab another round when a woman turned her attention on him. She’d been talking with her hands a lot - he must've done or said something wrong, because before he knew it, she was punching him in the nose. He didn’t realize that Bree was in the middle of it, pulling her hair, but he could feel Bree’s voice piercing through the chaos, shouting at the top of her lungs. He blinked and then he was outside - was he outside? The cool night air hit like a wake-up slap as he and Bree popped their heads through the sunroof of a limo. The streetlights blurred into streaks, and then all a sudden, they were somewhere new; the tattoo parlor. He had no idea how they’d ended up there, but he was laying in the chair on his side, his shirt splayed out somewhere else, watching Bree threaten the poor tattoo artists. Next thing he knew, his shirt was being thrown into his face and they were ushered out of the place. Morgan stumbled back out with her, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Bree, you’re a menace,” he mumbled, leaning up against the building, as he took the lollipop stick from earlier out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth. "It's been fun!"
THE NEXT MORNING
BREE felt a thousand little pokes on her back as she shifted to sit up. The morning sun peaking through her windows, with a brightness only seen just after sunrise. Wait, no. No, this was not her place. It smelled like wood and grass. Was she outside? Letting her eyes focus, she looked around her and she was laying in a bed of... is that hay? On cue, she hears a soft crunching sound and looking up, there was a horse hovering over her. She was in a god damn barn, sleeping in front of a horses stable. While her head didn't hurt, it also wasn't giving her any indication on when, why and how she was where she was. Slowly getting up, she hears what sounded like mummering and on the off chance she was kidnapped by criminals dumb enough to leave her unrestrained, she grabbed a rake off the barn wall and carefully made her way toward the sound. A huge sense of relief washed over her when she saw it was a sleeping Morgan. Suddenly she understood she was at his Ranch. Stilling didn't know the why or how. Slamming the non rake part down on the floor by her foot, like it was a trident, she sighed before bending down to shake Morgan awake. "Wake up before you become the butt of every joke in your employee's group chat." She said louder than she knew she needed to. Looking down at herself, there was hay everywhere, and pink flowers and god help her, glitter. Trying to clean herself up, she looked over at one of the horses noticing her bag around it's neck. Petting and soothing the horse she slipped her bag over it's head and took out her phone.
MORGAN was sprawled out in the hay, still wearing the remnants of last night’s wild wardrobe, complete with that glittery pink boa around his neck like some kind of lasso gone wrong. The sunlight felt like it was setting his brain on fire through closed eyes, but he could hear the faint sounds of movement nearby - a muffled scrape and something that sounded like an angry sigh. He groaned, half expecting the walls around him to start spinning again as he peeled one eye open. “Ohhh, hell,” he muttered, blinking up at Bree, who was looming over him with a rake like she’d come to drag him out of the barn herself. Her hair was laced with hay and glitter, and he could swear there was a flower petal or two stuck to her cheek. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Now, that’s a look, Bree,” he drawled, voice rough as sandpaper. “You got the barn chic down." Morgan sat up, running a hand through his hair and feeling a handful of straw come out with it. He glanced down at himself - glitter, hay, a few mystery bruises he couldn’t place. He remembered...some things from last night, but specifics were a little harder to nail down. Sitting up, Morgan leaned back against the stable door, the sight of the ranch slowly coming into focus around him. Last night’s laughter seemed to echo faintly in his ears, but here they were, back in the barn, and it was morning. “Any clue how we ended up here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
BREE was glad he had gotten up easily and didn't seem to be doing too bad. Of course, he was still sitting down and the getting up seemed to be more of an issue for people. Naturally, she rarely got hungover and even the few times she had, a decent breakfast and some water usually got her back to normal. Laughing a little, as he ended up with a handful of straw. Looking him over, now that he was in clearer view, she noticed he looked like he got his ass beat and that greatly confused her. Perching herself on top of a barrel of hay, she shook her head. "No, but I also don't know whose socks are on my feet or where my shoes are." Looking at her phone again, she went through her texts and show like ten messages from a BRIDE (Lauren ??) and what looked like 15 new videos and a seemingly infinite amount of photos. "Well, at least our night was well documented." She said, holding her phone up to his face and scrolling all the way back up to her camera roll. "A couple of these texts from, I guess a bride we met, are videos." Holding her phone between them, she pressed play on the first video and it starts with Morgan catching hands from some pissed off chick and then Bree lunging at her and full on grabbing her by the hair, calling her a little bitch, among other things. When the video ended, Bree just looked at Morgan. "I don't even want to know what the other video is." Although it looked like it was just Morgan and Bree talking to the camera.
MORGAN blinked, squinting at Bree’s phone screen as the video started playing, catching flashes of neon lights, laughter, and way too many close-ups of their flushed, tipsy faces. The clip showed him swaying a little too close to the camera, Bree in the background with her arm thrown around his neck, both of them grinning like fools. In the chaos of the bar, he stumbled back after some girl’s punch - her reason unclear, but Bree immediately charged in, fists ready. He winced, half-amused, half-sheepish, touching his sore nose. “Didn’t think I’d end up in a brawl last night, but if I got you as backup, I guess I can take a punch or two.” He grinned as she clicked on the next video. Morgan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he watched the blurry, chaotic clips. “Yeah,” He started slowly, wincing. “It might be best if we avoid that place for a while. We’ve definitely left our mark.”
BREE putting her phone back in her bag, for now, crossed her legs and tried to see if those videos would job her memory. But they didn't, and then she just stared at Morgan, half destroyed feather boa still around his neck, hay and glitter everywhere and she couldn't even remember what place they had been at in those videos to avoid it. The only place she remembered was the very first club they went to but after about five drinks she can't remember that one either. Without any warning, she just bust out into full body laughter. Muscle memory told her she had done this a few times last night too, but it felt good. So much of her laugh was far too heavy to also carry laughter. Usually the only person she could get like this with, was Jake and they had been too heavy lately for either of them. Last night was suppose to be for Morgan to feel lighter, to let go, let loose and just have fun. It never even occured to her that, that's exactly what she needed to. Her laughter dying down, but a smile still firmly on her face, she wrapped her arms around the cowboy, even if the angle made it a bit awkward, and hugged him. Suddenly, she pulled away so confused by his scent. "Why do you smell like hot sauce and gasoline?"
You took for granted seeds we planted when we were young || CLUSTERFUCK 2.0
tagging: Eva Anderson ( @anderseva ), Morgan Weston ( @morgan-weston ), Santana Lopez ( @psusantana ), Jake Puckerman ( @puckjake ), Bree Brown ( @blckbarbree ) & Noah Puckerman
date & time: October 30, 2024 at night
location: Bree's fancy ass apartment
warnings: mentions of alcohol
summary: And here we go again. Another clusterfuck for Jake's video roll on his phone. Santana, Bree and Jake all worked together to get the Throuple in one place to finally talk their shit out. Except some truths are revealed and now things might be worse than ever. Communication is hard.
word count: 5,808
MORGAN hadn’t known it was Jake’s birthday until mid-afternoon, when a text had come through on his phone, while he was elbow-deep in horse grooming, inviting him over for drinks at Bree’s place. Seven hours later, Morgan stood outside the apartment, clutching a gift-wrapped box. When he’d found out about Jake’s birthday, he felt a small pang of guilt - he probably should’ve known. Jake was dating Bree, and Bree had become like a sister to him; and not to forget about the fact that Jake was actually Puck’s half-brother. Not that that mattered right now, even if Morgan tried his best to make it matter. So, Morgan had scrambled to the nearest bike shop and picked out a pair of leather gloves - good ones, sturdy but soft, the kind that felt broken in the moment they were slipped on. The gloves weren’t anything grand, but they’d pair nicely with the motorcycle Morgan had gifted Jake not too long ago. When the door opened, Morgan smiled softly. “I couldn’t show up empty-handed, could I?” He said, first thing and held up the present.
JAKE was still wrapping his mind around practically cutting his mom off for the time being, but with his birthday finally here, he could finally put all of that behind him. Him and Bree still needed to deal with their own mess but for the sake of his brother's current situation, he'd happily agreed to his girl's plan to get the throuple together, and then Santana had jumped on board as well. Getting Puck to Bree's place for what he thought was a chill dinner was simple, and the same had happened with Morgan. He let Bree handle getting Eva there, and once the show was set to start, Santana had made up a reason to get Puck out of the living room area once someone knocked on the door. Once the coast was clear, Jake walked over and opened up the door, and he was surprised to see him with a gift. "Dude, you already gave me your bike, that was present enough." He smiled as he stepped aside after taking the gift bag from the man. "Come on in. Dinner is just about to start, but that's Bree's forte." He pointed out before glancing around behind him to look for his girlfriend. "Bree?"
BREE was fully aware this was probably a terrible idea. However, Eva was her favorite woman, pretty much ever, Morgan was a friend and Puck was basically her brother-in-law. An it did not sit right with her that these two men weren't being as forthcoming with Eva as they needed to be, as she deserved and apparently it was worth pissing her Professor, PR team manager, and friend(?) off to give them an opportunity to say what needed to be said. As she made sure the catered meal was warm and ready to eat, she heard her name being called. Coming into view of Jake and Morgan, she smiled at her boyfriend, while scanning the area, glad to see it looked like Santana had moved her and Puck somewhere else. "Yes, hi, come in." She smiled, and all but pushed Morgan to the kitchen.
PUCK unwillingly followed Santana into another room. Looked like a spare bedroom and he was realizing that Bree was like, rich rich. Which he knew, but he'd never really seen. Not like he would recognize luxury brand clothing or whatever. Looking a the mother of his child he furrowed his eyebrows. "Now why exactly did you want me alone in a bedroom? You know we don't have to have sex if you wanna have another one of my kids." He smiled at his own joke.
SANTANA rolled her eyes at Puck's words. "First of all, don't insult me. I threatened, and then bribed, the hospital so as soon as I pushed Maya out, my tubes were tied. That was the first and only baby that will ever come outta this body." She pointed out. "But I wanted you alone to remind you that I care about you, and I owe you the world for everything you've done for Maya, so just keep that in mind when you find out what your brother, your future sister in law, and I set up." That should have been enough of a hint as to what was coming, but it was also Puck so she wasn't sure if he'd catch onto that.
JAKE had to bite back a chuckle as Morgan was pushed into the kitchen by Bree, but then he followed anyways. "We should probalby start eating, and get out some drinks — the good stuff — right now." He suggested, since he wasn't sure if Puck would end up hearing Morgan's voice and come out of the bedroom yet.
MORGAN shrugged and gave a small smile. "That bike was given to you as a 'thank you' for that time on campus," he started, but continuing almost made him wince at the memory and the pain it had left behind. He stepped into the room, and let the topic go, instead greeting Bree with a warm smile and a small wave. He hadn't seen her since the morning after their drunken night that he didn't remember a thing of, and in a weird way, it felt kind of comforting to be her and Jake's third wheel in this situation. "D'ya need a hand or anythin'?" He asked, slightly confused about being pushed into the kitchen, but figured it was because he probably had to help out. "The good stuff? What good stuff, man? Y'know, I'm drivin' tonight, so I can't go as crazy as Bree and I did a few days ago."
JAKE decided not to comment on the reason why he'd gotten the bike, since he was sure that the classroom fiasco contributed to why the throuple was in the position they were in now, and instead just focused on the fact that he wanted to get some food before the show started. "Don't worry, we've got it." He suggested, and they did mostly, since Santana had practically laid out the fine china dinnerware, the utensils, the cups, etc. The Latina had been rather dedicated to helping Bree get everything laid out just in case this shit went downhill fast. Jake was piling food onto a plate for himself when he heard a knock at the door, and knowing it could only be one person, he put the plate down in front of Morgan. "Babe, pour the wine." He called out as he jogged over and opened up the door for Eva.
EVA had been expecting this to just be a chill night in with Bree, so she was dressed down and completely unprepared when it was little Puckerman opening the door instead. "Why are you here?" She asked before just walking past Jake, and the aroma of food coming from the kitchen led her straight in that direction until she spotted Morgan. "Bree Bianca Brown, what the fuck is this?" She huffed, already annoyed at this little ambush.
BREE really wasn't listening to anything anyone was saying. Instead, she was attuned to that front door and waiting for that fateful knock. Sooner than she was ready there it was. Popping open a bottle of good winne she poured herself a glass and chugged it. Hearing her full government named, she looked at Morgan, "If you'll excuse me." Then she went to the front door. met with a very unamused Eva. "Before you get mad, just remember I'm on your side."
PUCK wasn't surprised Santana managed to get her tubes tied so early in life. A bad ass through and through and he was glad that their daughter seemed to inheriet so much from her. Even if it did cause some challenges from time to time."Yeah, okay, not sure what that's got to do with Jake's birthday dinner. I mean, I already knew y'all set that up." Before he ould even have another thought, he heard a voice ring out through this big ass apartment and he'd know that voice anywhere. Without even looking back at Santana he just left the room and followed where the voice came from until he was face to face with Eva. Looking at his brother, he was starting to put the pieces together. "The fuck is going on?"
MORGAN watched as Jake started scooping food onto the plate, and he was about to speak up when there was a knock on the door. Morgan was pretty sure he'd been the only one invited tonight, for whatever reason, but maybe a family member was coming over? Or a close friend? Either way, Morgan quietly grabbed the plate as Jake exited the room, and just continued to scoop the food up, figuring that Jake wouldn't mind. It wasn't until he heard that familiar voice that he looked up, seeing Eva on the opposite of the kitchen island. "I-" he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence when the door opened again and Puck was stood right there, next to Eva. "This- I'm-...I was invited!" He quickly tried to reason, wanting them to know he hadn't planned for this. Sure, he was trying to win them back, but this wasn't on his list of ways.
EVA could only roll her eyes as Puck walked out next, and then she didn't even need Morgan to defend himself because she could already tell that Bree and Jake had set this up. Or at least she had assumed it was just them until she spotted Santana walking down the hall next, and now it really made sense. "Just so we're all clear, the last little ambush didn't go so well, so why are we doing this again?"
SANTANA didn't really get the confusion on the throuple's faces, or their lack of appreciation for the hard work that had gone into tricking all three of them like this, but she wasn't gonna stand for it either. "It's too late to yell this out, but surprise! Yes, all three of you were unaware that this was happening and yes, the three of us did set this up because we care about all of you. If any of you wanna fight about it, I'm down, but I'd advise you not to." She sassed with a grin. "Now, sit your asses down and talk." Was she demanding it? Yes. The only one who might fight her back on it was Eva, that much she knew, so she didn't even say anything else as she walked over and grabbed her hand, shoving her over on the couch. "Jake, you're guarding the door. Bree, get the wine. Puck and Morgan, both of you fucked up, again, so it's only fair that one of you start."
JAKE didn't know why Santana was always bossing everyone around, but he wasn't stupid enough to disobey a direct order from her either so he grabbed a chair from the dining room and placed it in front of the door. "Since it is my birthday, can someone get me a plate before the show starts?" He teased, sitting down in the chair and taking his phone out to record this, since he knew it would come in handy later.
BREE was glad that Santana was there, because even Bree can admit, Eva would have walked out, maybe Puck and Morgan too and all of this would have been for nothing. So she did as she was told and went to get the wine. Very good wine, that she knew for a fact was Eva's favorite. So she looked at Jake before she went to go get wine glasses and fill up two decanters.
PUCK kind of wanted to just leave, but it was his brother's birthday and Santana wasn't to be fucked with. So he sat down, not next to Eva and watched as Bree came in with the glasses and wine and he found himself struggling to look at Morgan right now. All of this didn't even feel real and he needed a minute for his brain to boot back up. "Can I get water or something?" He asked Bree, he was trying not to drink anymore. It was one of the many things he was obtaining from for the time being.
MORGAN was as confused as he always was - except maybe just slightly more than usual. The last time this had happened, it had not gone down well, and Morgan knew better than to try and talk to Puck and Eva, while there were other people there. But Santana was intimidating and he didn't know what she'd do if he just jumped out of the kitchen window, so he just slowly followed the group into the living room with the plate of food in hand. He decided to place his tall body in the doorway between the living room and dining room, so he could watch everything unfold from there. Puck refusing alcohol was an incredibly welcomed sight, and it warmed his heart, his eyes softening as he stared a little bit too long at him. But then he snapped out of it and he figured it'd be best to maybe speak up, since he was the one who'd last done everyone wrong anyway. "So- err...you both look good." He said, eyes darting between Eva and Puck.
SANTANA wasn't gonna let Bree serve everybody herself, since she probably was the most foreign to such out of the women in the room, so she got up and grabbed a plate of food for Jake. It was the least they could do since they had jacked whatever birthday plans he could have had with Bree. And busying herself was the only way to keep her from not slapping both Morgan and Puck in the back of their heads for being idiots, so she didn't even mind it this one time. But as soon as Morgan finally opened up his mouth to greet them, that urge increased. "Well, that's not how I'd greet people I claim to love after I royally fuck some shit up, but sure, Weston. Nice opening." She stated sarcastically, handing Jake his plate and a glass of wine before she went back for her own.
EVA could have left now, and she wasn't afraid of Santana so she'd fight her way out of here if she had to, but this was the first time she'd seen Puck since finding out what he'd done in lockdown. While dumbass #1 had tried to love bomb her since she'd last seen him, dumbass #2 hadn't so much as said a single word to her since she'd cried in his arms, and that horrifying moment alone called for some ounce of accountability on his part. "I always look good." She tossed at Morgan without even looking his way as her eyes were trained on Puck...for now. "Since we're clearly not getting out of this, let's skip the bullshit. Noah, what did you do during lockdown? Better yet, who did you do, and before you think about lying, he already ratted you out so your best bet is to just be honest."
PUCK could feel Eva's eyes on him and he was rebooted enough to know that he better look back. Probably the least he could do since he hadn't reached out to her since she cried on his shoulder. Which he now understands was also a dick move. And selfish and definitely not the actions of a man who loves her, so when she started asking about lockdown, it wasn't until she mentioned him telling her that he even realized she already knew. Fucking, Morgan. Couldn't even give Puck the ability to tell Eva himself. He decided to talk to Eva first and then deal with Morgan after. Look at that, him thinking, what an improvement. Thankfully, Bree came back with a water and he thanked her before chugging half the bottle. "On day four of the lockdown I got shit faced, had sex with some chick, kept drinking, then punched a wall. That's how I hurt my hand. I should have told you myself. Even if I didn't tell you that day we talked. I should have reached out and I should have told you the truth, instead of making excuses to justify not talking to you yet. I'm sorry for what I did during lockdown. I'm sorry for not telling you about it myself. I'm sorry for not reaching out and for ghosting you again." Now, Puck wanted to immediately throw Morgan under the bus but he wanted to Give him the opportunity he robbed Puck of to tell Eva himself and he wanted to get Eva the space to process what he said and say whatever she needed to say in return. He wasn't perfect and he knew he had a lot to answer for but he was trying.
MORGAN watched Santana, eyes squinting a little at her comment and he was about to speak up when Eva decided to go straight for Puck's throat, calling out his lack of communication. Morgan didn't even know about that part. To a certain degree, he was happy he'd told Eva, even if it wasn't his place to do so. He didn't know if Puck had planned on talking to her about it or not, but there was constantly that nagging in the back of his head, bringin him back into the classroom to be taught about Communications 101, and surely, telling Eva these things was a part of the curriculum, right? On the other hand, he could see how wrong it was too. This was Puck's story to tell, and so once the other man stopped, Morgan gave Jake his plate, leaving the man with two plates full of food now, and he stepped forward. "I'm sorry, too. Everything that I said those days; things came out so wrong. But I thought y'all deserved that kind of communication from me, y'know?"
EVA wasn't surprised that Puck had the sense to just come clean now, and she appreciated his little apology but it was too late for that too. She'd already told him once before about the ghosting, which he had a habit of doing whenever he'd fucked something up, and that should have been the first red flag that caused her to be done with this. Yet she'd ignored that one, and some others, so here they were. She didn't even need to process it since Morgan had given her the rundown of the important shit anyways, so she was about to brush off the apology until Morgan stepped towards them and uttered one of his own. That earned him an eye roll. "I'm pretty sure nothing came out wrong, Morgan." Everything he said had been crystal clear, in her opinion, so she didn't know why he was inserting himself into this right now. Turning her attention back to Puck, she shrugged. "I get how shitty your dad was, and how everything he's said and done has probably fucked you up, but that can't constantly be your excuse for why you make shitty decisions. Morgan and I both agreed on that when he told me what you did, and honestly, fuck you for letting me cry and be vulnerable and not having the balls to just be honest. That's a dick move." She huffed.
PUCK simply nodded at her words. Even though they stung, he had also been prepared to have his apology not accepted or have it be too little too late. While he was working on a larger apology to give her, his therapist and support group members had all made it clear that sometimes things are too far gone, but that doesn't mean you don't apologize. Because the apology isn't to fix it or get what you want. You apologize because you did something wrong, period. "Yes it is. I recently learned that even if you can explain it that will never excuse shitty behavior." Now that he'd said that, he could focus on Morgan and his lack of confession. Maybe he'd already told Eva, but something told him he hadn't. I mean would he have bothered telling Puck if he hadn't said he talked to Serena? Probably not. "I am wondering what kind of explanation he gave you" He looked at Eva. "-for why he fucked Serena probably fifteen minutes after whatever conversation he had with you about me." Puck still wasn't willing to look at Morgan, and he was being messy and he shouldn't have said it, because Morgan should have told her but fuck him. All the shit he gave Puck for his shitty coping mechanisms, to turn around and reveal his whole fucking secret relationship with Serena, still made his blood boil.
BREE gasped in her seat next to Jake. "Morgan." She said with heavy disappointment in her voice. She hadn't seen that one coming.
EVA didn't know how he'd come to this conclusion, but she was sure that either his mom or someone with some sort of qualifications had gotten him there. He sure as hell hadn't figured that out on his own, and she would have been proud of him for it if she wasn't mad at him. But when he started to turn the focus on Morgan and mentioned an explanation from him, she was slightly confused since Morgan had told her he didn't know what his feelings for that little punk were. And she was still pissed at him too, but when Puck revealed the new information, she was almost positive that her blood had never boiled like it was now. She also hadn't known that the man could hurt her any worse than he already had, but boy was she fucking wrong. "You fucking asshole." She hissed as she finally turned to Morgan. "You looked me right in my face and gave me that whole speech about your stupid heart tying into knots when you're with us, how losing us — or me or him or whatever — would be the biggest mistake of your life, and how I was the fucking one just to go fuck her immediately after that?" Eva hissed as she glared at him, and she didn't even know how she was fighting back tears right now but she sure as hell wasn't about to let him see her cry ever again.
SANTANA was thankful that she had refilled her glass because all of these revelations were too much, even for her, and she hated that things were this bad. Gulping down the full contents of her glass, she was now annoyed because Eva was clearly too good for them. But it also took a bitch to know a bitch, and she could see right through Eva's tough exterior and knew she was on the verge of tears. As if there were ever a time to step in, it was now. "Jake, turn the camera off." She stated before she glanced between the two idiots. "If there were ever a time for you two to be actual men for once, it's now. She should walk out of here and never look back, so you might wanna say whatever you need to say before she does."
JAKE nodded and quickly turned the camera off, and even he was baffled at this now. And as much as he loved his brother, he couldn't exactly support him and Morgan repeatedly hurting someone who obviously didn't deserve it. "Just so we're clear, this is the last time I'll be involved in setting you three up. I thought I was bad but damn, you two don't even deserve her."
MORGAN looked between Eva and Puck, feeling his brows furrow as he listened to Eva come for Puck and his actions. Was it true? Yes. Did she have to tell him that harshly? Morgan's heart hurt, wanting to step in and cradle Puck's face into his chest, but he also wanted to kiss Eva's lips so hard, because the way she was taking control turned him on like crazy. Gulping, Morgan was about to step in, choosing to defend Puck, but then he was interrupted before he could even say a word, and the other man decided to completely throw him under the bus. Everything that he hadn't yet told Eva, because he was playing the balancing game of making her miss him, before confessing about his wrong-doing. His eyes looking between the two started panicking, and his ears started ringing, and Bree's disappointed 'Morgan' was fuzzy in his brain. But then Eva spoke up, and it was like his ears snapped back, her voice crystal clear and he gulped hard. It was like he had this little voice inside his head, constantly doubting whatever he was going to say next. "I can explain!" 'Can you?' "It's all a big misunderstanding!" 'Is it?' "I didn't mean any of it!" 'Didn't you?' "Can you guys just shut up for a second?!" He finally snapped, his voice loud, and it was mostly directed to the voices in his head, but he turned to Santana and Jake. Looking back at Puck and Eva, he took a step forward and ran a hand through his beard. "Listen. I had sex with Serena, after our lunch, Eva," he started, trying to calmly explain what had happened. "I didn't do it to hurt you, you have to believe that! I had invited her over, so that we could get things cleared up and so I could move on, and focus on the two of you. I don't know what happened, it's like everything became blurry after that, because I wasn't thinking. About anything. And I should've." He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "I can't take it back now, but my mind's never been clearer. I meant what I said. I only want you two."
EVA honestly didn't need to hear shit else at this point, since Morgan crossing that line after their last conversation only solidified everything she'd said before. In fact, her mind her never been more made up than it was now. But when he raised his voice at them, both her and Santana made the exact same face, and she could tell the Latina was about to knock him upside his fucking head, just as she wanted to, but she waved her off dismissively. The last thing he needed was both of them about to throw hands, and she was sure that the odds had never been more in their favor. Just like the last time she'd seen him, there was more bullshit excuses coming her way, and she didn't hesitate to roll her eyes as he spoke. The audacity of him to come for Puck's excuse when he kept finding them for his actions too. Waiting until he was finished, she shook her head. "Right, so instead of doing like I told you to do and telling her what you told me, you fucked her? It didn't just happen because you weren't thinking, Morgan. You did it because you wanted to." That realization alone was enough to make her crack, but somehow, by some miracle, she held back her tears. For now. "Just like I said before, you both keep saying how you want this, how you're so sure of it now, but you both had to fuck someone else to be sure. I didn't. And honestly, all this proved was that even if we tried to do this, the second shit goes south or we have one fight, both of you are just gonna go stick your dicks in whatever hole gives you some attention. I deserve a lot better than that." Eva didn't really know what else she was even supposed to say now without repeating herself, so she stood back up and glanced between them. "I can't do this anymore, so I'm done. For good this time. You two can do whatever the fuck you want, but leave me out of it. I let both of you hurt me twice now, and I'll be damned if you do it ever again, so just stay away from me. Is that clear?"
MORGAN watched as Eva told him everything; everything that he'd done to fuck this up. She was coming for him, calling him out, and honestly, it was the truth. Morgan might've been dumb, but he could see exactly what she was saying, and it made sense to him. He had had sex with Serena because he'd wanted to, he had gone and stuck his dick in someone else, after a fight with Eva. And if anything, this just proved to him more that he needed to become a better man. That he needed to prove himself more. That this wasn't the end. If anything, it only made his desire for them stronger. "Eva..." he watched her stand up, wanting to say something, but not knowing what exactly. He needed his usual 3-4 business days to figure out what exactly he could do or say, in order to make any of this better.
PUCK could see the turmoil in Morgan, the realization that he was wrong, had been wrong but the fight to tell yourself you didn't mean it, that it wasn't you intention. That you weren't that guy because in your head you'd never treat someone you care about the way you're realizing you did. And Puck knew that's what was happening in his head because it's exactly what happened in his for weeks. listened while Eva spoke. Said everything Puck and Morgan deserved to hear. As everyone's voices filled his head, he felt a rage build up in him at Morgan, at himself too, but at Morgan more, but he was trying to decide if he had the right to say anything. Thankfully, Eva had plenty to say, to them both. All of it hurt but all of it true and when she said she couldn't do it anyone, he realized he had already accepted this outcome. Accepted that unless there was real change, provable change, in Morgan and Puck's coping mechanisms and behaviors, unless Eva had the time and the space to process and heal and rebuild herself, this was always going to end up here. For the first time, he finally understood why his mother told him as a child not to hold on so tight you squeeze the life out of what you're trying to hang on to. Nothing can grow in those conditions. While he had so much he needed to say to Eva he knew he couldn't say it now and even if he could she likely wouldn't hear it. So he simply turned to her and let his heart break as he looked at her, knowing the pain he caused. "I get it, and you're right, about all of it and imma stay away from you. I'll do everything I can to keep us from crossing paths again, not on campus, not anywhere." It hurt to say but it was the least he could do. Now, he needed to say something to Morgan and he wasn't all the way sure how. Getting up, he faced his- not his, cowboy, "She was my friend and you knew that. You could've picked anyone, but you picked my friend. Losing you and Eva is what I deserve, it's what I earned but Serena? I didn't earn that loss. And neither one of you cared enough about me to- to..." He trailed off, just staring at Morgan. Finally he looked away an at Santana, Bree and Jake. "Can I go?" He asked the three who set this up.
EVA honestly just needed to get out of here, get some air, and to move the fuck on from both of them. Morgan having nothing to say other than her name proved that he had nothing left to say right now, which made sense considering that he'd probably just run right back to Serena after this. And the Puck started talking and she didn't care what he had to say either. "Great, good to know you can commit to something." She muttered before she headed for the door, and Jake quickly jumped up and moved out of the way so she could leave.
SANTANA sighed as Eva left, and while the plan had gone off the rails, she had switched sides and was only rooting for Eva now. Well, she was rooting for Puck to get better and work through his shit, but romantically, she only cared about the woman in this throuple. Downing some more wine, she nodded at Puck's question. "Yeah, it's fine. I think you've said everything you needed to get off of your chest too, so no need to stay any longer." Not that he needed permission at this point anyways, but he had asked so she gave it to him.
JAKE wasn't for beating a dead horse so with Eva and now Puck being done, he was giving up on this throuple thing too. "Well, thank you both for coming anyways. And thank you for my birthday gifts. Sorry this didn't work out like we planned, but...good luck in whatever, or whoever, you do next, I guess?" He rambled, since he wasn't really sure what else to say. "I'll see you around, Morgan."
MORGAN's face resembled that of a kicked puppy, not knowing how to make any of this better. The way he'd not only ruined his relationship with Eva and Puck now, but he'd also come between Puck and Serena, knowing how the two were such good friends; at least that's what he figured based off of the fact that he'd caught him in her apartment that one time. But a part of him was screaming that this could be resolved. If he was stubborn enough; persistent enough. He loved them for crying out loud! He wasn't going to give up on them just yet. As he watched Eva leave, followed by Puck, Morgan sighed, and rubbed his temple in pure frustration. He had to think now, come up with something else, because he was pretty sure he'd cleaned out every single poppy and sunflower field in California in order to send them that crazy amount of flowers, so that wasn't an option until they'd grown back again. He had to think about his next move. What was the way to someone's heart? ... Eyes opening wide, Morgan looked at the three on-lookers and gave them an optimistic smile. "This was great, you guys, we should really do it again some other time, but I need to go, I have something- I have several things I gotta take care of." And with that, he ran out of the house, knowing exactly where to head next: his kitchen.
I'll be honest: I didn't expect to be back here until Thanksgiving or maybe even Christmas, and I definitely wasn't expecting to suddenly find myself semi-living at home again on Halloween. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, of course, but it's been... well, let's just say it's been a bit of an adjustment. And it looks like I'm not the only one who thinks so because my mom quite literally just told me to "stop moping on the couch with the cat and go to that Halloween bash".
I suppose she has a point, so I'm currently putting together a very last-minute costume, as I didn't bring costume 1.0 from New York (and it was a couple's costume, so it would have been no use anyway...).
In other words: yes, hi, I'm back, and I figured I'd say hello on this website before seeing most of you (I hope!) in person again tonight! For those of you I haven't met yet: I'm Blaine Anderson and disclaimer: the mustache you'll see me with tonight is very much a fake one. Please feel free to come and say hi! I promise I don't bite.
Hey, man, if you're needin' a place to stay for a bit, until you've found your bearings, then I've got three guest bedrooms that I ain't usin'. Although, I'm a little far out from the city, and you'd have to adjust to the smell of hay.
Andy: Mmhmm, and had I been alone I might have.
Andy: All you're doing is coming over for dinner. So unless you intend to insult my cooking, you won't hurt me.
MORGAN: As long as you don't make that thing again. Do you remember? It was burnt and it somehow managed to still taste more like anchovies than what it actually was.
MORGAN: I love your cooking, but I was so thankful that "Joe's" was open that night!
Andy: Saving me from wanting to fist fight a car salesman warrants something more than cookies in return.
Andy: Yes, you did, three years ago. And maybe I was holding a grudge and maybe seeing you still sometimes really fucking hurts, but you still did me a solid and I've more than enough manners to know I need to pay that back.
MORGAN: No, I just wasn't expecting you to invite me over for dinner.
MORGAN: I just mean, I hurt you big time, and everything.
MORGAN: I ain't complaining though, I love the idea of getting to have dinner with you.
