Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven, Part Eight Part Nine or Read on AO3
“You're ridiculous,” Gus sighs, as they make their way into the precinct, waving at the desk sergeant who shoots them both a wide grin as they pass, “you can barely even tell anymore--”
“Oh yeah the yellow is just a choice now, I put this on this morning, couldn't you tell?” Shawn grumbles, pressing into the soft skin under his eyes, wincing even at the light pressure.
It’s been two weeks since the incident with Mr. Coveralls and the hospital visit to treat his broken nose and concussion. The worst of the bruising and brain fog have finally started to disappear, leaving behind angry yellow and sickly green shadows under his eyes, as well as a lingering ache in his head that shows up whenever he moves too quickly.
But at least Shawn is finally allowed back in the station after the mandatory two week rest that the doctor and chief had insisted upon -a ban unfairly reinforced by Jules, and even Buzz.
Lassie has been running the gamut from being irritated by his lack of rest, firmly insisting on his return home, to shooting Shawn unreadable looks, according to Gus, behind his back --which is extremely frustrating given how Shawn had thought they had left things back at the hospital.
There had been a smoothie for shits sake!
But no, of course Lassie had to go and turn around like everything was normal, like he hadn’t swooped in like a knight in shiny armour. Shining armour? Something other than his normal drab off-the-rack ensembles; but the point was that Lassie was acting just as he had before, sans manhandling after the concussion.
It was certainly confusing, and more than a little frustrating.
Shawn is more than happy to start working cases again, if only to distract from the, apparently, one-sided weirdness between himself and Lassiter.
At least he can go back to distracting himself and half the station with their usual antics, and hopefully snag a new case while they’re here.
“Shawn?”
Shawn stops, it's been over ten years since he last heard the voice calling his name and it's enough to make him freeze in his tracks. Gus stumbles into his back, nearly causing both of them to fall.
“Tell me I'm having an auditory hallucination right now,” he whispers to Gus who frowns at Shawn until the voice calls out again.True he was still technically on concussion protocols but given that Shawn hadn’t had any hallucinations even immediately after hitting his head at the station two weeks ago, this was a bad sign.
“Shawn Spencer, as I live and breathe!”
Oh, it’s actually worse.
Anthony Llewellyn walks across the lobby of the station, making a beeline for Shawn and Gus. His curly brown hair has receded slightly, but age has done nothing to temper his handsome face. If anything, the laugh lines around his mouth and the creases beside his large hazel eyes have made him even more attractive since he stomped on Shawn's heart all those years ago.
“What happened to your face?” Anthony asks, a slight pitch of alarm in his voice as his eyes trace over Shawn’s face.
Shawn shoots a withering glare at Gus, raising his eyebrows in a silent I-told-you-so, earning him a scoff from his best friend.
“Oh this, just an occupational hazard,” Shawn barks out in a strangled laugh as he waves a dismissive hand away from his bruised face, “but hey, you're back huh? I would have figured you'd stick with the east coast after Princeton, nothing like living in New York”.
“New Jersey,” Anthony corrects with the same crooked smile that Shawn loved all those years ago.
He feels his ears begin to heat without his permission, “I've heard it both ways,” Shawn says with a confidence he doesn’t feel. He clears his throat loudly as Gus steps closer, standing nearly between him and Anthony with a scowl etched on his face.
“Why are you at the station man?” Gus asks coolly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“I could ask you guys the same thing, but imagine my surprise when I saw your name in the paper,” Anthony says with a grin, “I would have thought after what happened that summer you would steer clear of cop shops, hey Shawnie?”
Shawn winces at the nickname and leans closer to Gus, “Yeah, I uh, it’s good, I’m consulting--”
Anthony hums, dropping his gaze up and down as though scanning Shawn, the warm smile he’s wearing doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “no kidding”.
“Actually,” Gus bites out, glaring openly at Anthony who all but ignores him, “we’ve assisted on over twenty cases already this year”.
“Then I bet you could give me a hand with something hmm?” Anthony moves closer, reaching out to clap Shawn’s shoulder once before gripping it loosely, his thumb traces a soft pattern over the sleeve of his lime green polo, “how about it, for old times sake?”
Shawn hates the way his stomach flips at the touch.
“What's the case?” Gus asks before Shawn can open his mouth, Anthony glances at him with an annoyed grimace before breathing out a long sigh.
“Well, my new wife and I went to this resort in San Diego, Beach Village something-or-other, and we're pretty sure that one of the attendants stole my watch and wedding ring,” he says with a frown, he turns back to Shawn with a soft smile and gently slides his hand down Shawn’s arm to grip his elbow, his hands are cold and clammy against his bare skin.
New wife.
Shawn swallows harshly as he takes his arm back from the other man’s hand. He hates the way his chest feels tight at the words, the way the slimy slide of Anthony’s eyes over his face still manages to make him feel simultaneously like he’s flying and crashing, even now that the man is so, so clearly trying to use him.
And he’s not even being subtle about it.
“You and your wife didn't go to hotel security?” Shawn says smoothly as he catalogs the other man's appearance now. He takes in the slightly swollen fingers on both hands, wrists and the slight swell of the other man's face. Shawn had seen that same swelling before, when his grandad took him and Gus when they were kids to the mountains for some ‘proper’ camping as he called it.
Anthony looks away as he nods.
“Oh I did, but we were leaving the same day and I--we, my wife and I, just wanted to get out of there so we could file a police report. My insurance company said that would be the first thing to do”.
Shawn grimaces at the obvious lie, “I can't let you file a false report Anthony,” he says quietly, keeping his tone neutral as he watches the other man blink in surprise.
Anthony is silent for a moment, looking at Gus first with a laugh in his eyes that disappears when neither Gus nor Shawn join him, “what are you talking about?”
Shawn sighs, before taking a step closer, “just, why don't we talk outside, you haven’t made the report yet so--”
“Talk outside,” Anthony repeats incredulously, “what-just what are you implying?” He’s angry now, his spine straight and all traces of good humour have vanished.
“Anthony, come on,” Shawn says lowly, looking around, ”I put up with you talking to me like I'm stupid when we were eighteen, but I'm not about to let you do this”. None of the officers milling about have spared them a glance so far, but judging by the rapid flush rising up Anthony's neck he won't be staying quiet for long. Lassiter and Juliet hover in the background from their nearby desks, watching the exchange and Shawn hopes they leave it be.
“Is that what this is about?” Anthony says, and yup, there's the volume he was worried about, “Jesus Christ Shawn, are you seriously doing this because I dumped you? It was like twenty years ago, get over it!”
Shawns balks at the words, turning to Gus, “When did we turn forty, did I miss the cake?”
He swallows harshly, still grinning despite the way his ears have begun to heat, “Ten years, twenty years, same diff, but that’s not what we’re talking about Anthony, you’re trying to file a false police report”.
“Okay,” Lassiter interrupts, as he swiftly walks up to stand between the three men, “this is a police station, I'm going to need you to lower your voice”.
Shawn feels eyes on them from the rest of the station. Vick is still in her office, thank God, but Buzz has joined their little watch party now and Juliet has also moved closer, standing beside Gus with her hands at her hips, classic power pose.
God Shawn has the worst fucking luck lately, because of course Lassiter and Juliet, are the ones that get to witness his ex-boyfriend publicly tear a strip off him.
Anthony's face twists as he nods sharply, glaring at Shawn over the Detectives shoulder. Shawn breathes a sigh out through his nose, gritting his teeth as Anthony opens his mouth to defend himself or discredit Shawn --same difference at this point.
“If this man is bothering you,” Lassiter continues without missing a beat, “rest assured we will remove him from the premises”.
“Oh sure,” Shawn says snidely, rolling his eyes, as Gus stiffens beside him, "kick out the person not actively committing a crime, great work Lassie--”
“I wasn't talking about you, Shawn,” Lassiter cuts him off, glaring at Anthony.
Oh.
Shawn looks at Gus who is staring at the Detective as if trying to download his thoughts because, who the hell is this and what have they done with Lassie?
“Alright sir, it’s time to go,” Juliet says primly as she takes a step fully between Shawn and Anthony, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with Lassiter.
Anthony sucks his teeth, his eyes darting between the two detectives as though sizing them up, “he doesn't have any proof, you're not taking his bullshit seriously are you?”
Lassiter says nothing, his narrowed blue eyes flick between Anthony and Shawn.
“Shawn probably had a vision, right?” Buzz says from his desk in the corner, “he's very good--”
“Oh my god, Is that what he told you?” Anthony laughs, and it's not a nice laugh, “good to see nothing's changed, everything’s still a joke to you, huh Shawn?”.
Shawn stiffens and takes a deep breath, A few more officers are now looking at them, Buzz watches worriedly from his desk and stands up from his chair.
“Okay,” Shawn says, shaking his head, “sure, you said you were filing a report for the theft of your watch and wedding ring, that they went missing at the resort you and wifey stayed at, right?”
Juliet and Lassiter both turn back to Shawn now, Lassiter watching Shawn with the same blank expression he’s come to hate recently while Juliet tilts her head curiously, her eyes flit between Gus and Shawn.
Anthony raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest now in a silent challenge. Well, game on Llewelyn.
“Dragging some poor resort attendant through the mud for this? Thinking no one will question it, right?”
“Shawn,” Gus says warningly, reaching out for Shawn’s elbow but he pulls away from his grasp.
Shawn continues, ignoring the way Gus drops his face into his hands, “that resort is almost four hours away, definitely at a higher altitude and way warmer than Santa Barbara, just based on how swollen your hands are”.
“Shawn,” Gus hisses at the same time Lassiter says, “elevation,” in a tone Shawn has never heard before, but he keeps going, ignoring them both.
“With the abrasions on your ring finger knuckle there, and the marks on your wrist where the watch would have been, you clearly took them off after your drive”.
Anthony freezes, his mouth opens and closes once before his face hardens into a vicious glare.
Shawn smirks, gotcha.
“Are you--you’re not serious right now,” Anthony sputters, taking an aborted step towards Shawn but Juliet is faster, halting his movement with a firm hand on his chest, “that isn't--this is unbelievable, you’re fucking pathetic”.
“And you're just after the insurance payout,” Shawn hits back sharply, he feels Gus’ hands on his shoulder, holding him back as Juliet stands her ground, waiting until the other man finally takes another step away, raising his hands in surrender.
“God,” Anthony says, dropping one hand heavily at his side while the other runs through his curly brown hair, “I don’t know how I put up with you for as long as I did in highschool Shawn, leaving for Princeton was the best decision I ever made--”
“So you're Princeton,” Lassiter interrupts as he turns towards Anthony fully, leaving his back to Shawn and Gus.
Gus lets go of Shawn's shoulders just to bring them back to slap him on the arms, an expression of dawning horror blooms on his face.
“What?” Anthony growls at Lassiter, leveling him with an unimpressed glare.
“You're the other idiot that made a mess that we’re all still trying to clean up,” Lassiter says and Gus's jaw drops briefly before his head tilts contemplatively, eyes narrowing at Lassiter.
What the fuck is happening??
Shawn tries to step forward again, but Gus renews his grip on his shoulders, shaking his head in a silent, ‘I-don't-know-what-the-hell-is-happening-either-but-you-need-to-be-cool’.
“So you,” Lassiter says, taking a menacing step closer, “should take his advice and leave now before we book you for filing a false report”.
Anthony breathes out a scoff, “what, you believe this asshole?”
“And disturbing the peace,” Juliet says brightly, counting on her fingers, “and threatening an officer--”
Anthony looks between Juliet and Lassiter for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of continuing his tirade as the number of cops watching from the sidelines grows. He rolls his eyes and shakes out his shoulders before finally, finally, taking a step backwards and turning back towards the entrance, “Okay, okay, I'm leaving, have a nice life Shawnie”.
“I’ll walk you out,” Lassiter growls, gesturing towards the lobby. He doesn't move until Anthony turns on his heel and finally leaves the bullpen.
It’s quiet for all of five seconds, Shawn can feel the eyes of the room on them as he takes a deep breath through his nose before slowly exhaling through his mouth. The bubble of silence pops shortly as Juliet clears her throat, leveling an impressive Lassiter-like glare around the station.
“I’m going to make sure that’s all Carlton does,” Juliet says quietly as she reaches for Shawn’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before she follows the pair out of the station. He nods, watching her go as a bone weary fatigue suddenly hits him square in the chest. It’s most likely a lingering concussion symptom from all the yelling and sudden stress which makes the whole situation all the worse, his first day back at the station is now a write off.
Gus steps closer, his brow pinched in concern, “okay I know that sucked, but you need to get out of here”.
“Yeah,” he says, wiping a tired hand over his face, “I just--I need a minute--”
“Nope,” Gus says sharply, “now, before Lassiter and Jules get back”.
“Gus,” Shawn breathes out tiredly, feeling as though the last string holding him up is about to snap altogether, “don't be a wet sock inside my favorite shoe--”
“Shawn,” Gus interrupts, "you just deduced a crime and walked the head Detective through your entire process, without a single vision”.
Shawn feels his breath catch in his throat as he walks back through the last five minutes because Gus is right.
He steps back from the memory of Anthony standing over him, sneering, and shifts his gaze to Lassiter who looks at Shawn with narrowed eyes that pierce through his underbelly. The terminator scan is back and on full force now.
Lassiter knows, knows that Shawn has been lying for months. Not just to him but the whole department, to the people he had started to call friends.
“Okay,” Gus steps back, gesturing to the back entrance usually reserved for officers, “go, I’ll see if I can do some damage control, I'll call you later”.
Shawn nods only vaguely aware that Gus has stepped away from the sudden lack of warmth beside him. He starts making his way to the side exit only for Gus to plow into his back like a linebacker before spinning Shawn around to hug him tight.
“Anthony was a jackass then and it looks like that hasn't changed,” Gus says into his shoulder, “so for what it's worth you dodged a bullet man”.
Shawn slowly wraps his arms around his best friend, letting the tension from the confrontation with Anthony fall away.
“Thanks,” Shawn says after a beat before loosening his grip to pat Gus on the back as he steps away, “now, I have an escape to make and several, several, orders of not-sad snacks to grab”.
“Don't you throw a pity party without me Shawn--”
“Wouldn't dream of it!” He calls over his shoulder with a grin as he slips out the side door.
***
Shawn is well into his pity party, about two orders of queso dos fritos deep --the perfect not-sad snack, midway through his VHS copy of Gladiator, and with a list of places in Arizona he had not managed to see before coming back to Santa Barbara --his options other than skipping town again all but nothing, when he hears a knock at the door.
Four raps in quick successive pairs.
Shawn freezes.
It could be Gus trying out a new knocking pattern, and here with better news than his spiraling thoughts can conjure, but Gus hasn't called.
Shawn holds his breath, slowly reaching for the remote to pause the movie, relieved that he hadn't opened the blinds on the window facing the street when he got home from the station earlier.
Maybe if he stayed quiet--
“I can hear your movie Spencer”.
God Dammit.
Shawn angrily stops the tape before dropping the remote onto the couch which bounces once and then falls to the floor with a noisy plastic clatter.
“I know you’re in there,” Lassiter’s voice travels through the door clear as a bell.
He sighs, dropping his head back onto the couch before he lifts the grease stained cardboard holding the few remaining fries from his chest and stands up, tossing the garbage onto the coffee table that is actually a garish slab of green plexiglass held up by several stacked milk crates he had spray painted red and superglued together.
Gus said it was hideous the last time he had visited but Shawn loves his DIY project.
Eat your heart out Martha Stewart.
He makes his way over to the door, opening it just enough to see the Detective with his hands in his suit jacket pockets, looking around with a suspicious glare.
“You live in a laundromat?” He says in lieu of a greeting.
“What are you doing here Lassiter?” Shawn asks tiredly as he opens the door a little wider, leaning his shoulder against the frame, blocking any additional line of sight into his place.
“The spirits didn't tell you?” The Detective says as he removes his hands from the pockets of his coat to cross his arms over his chest.
Shawn fights the urge to slam the door in his stupid face.
Lassiter shakes his head after a beat of stony silence as Shawn says nothing, and sighs.
“Can I come in?”
Shawn shrugs, looking away but doesn't move from the door, blocking the entrance.
“Depends,” he says after another beat.
“Look, if you're worried about…” Carlton tries, the words come out haltingly, “I'm not going to…”
God Shawn does not want to have this conversation.
Lassiter breathes out, lifting his hands to run through his hair, shifting the normally neat salt and pepper locks out of place and Shawn is over it.
“Look, I really don't want to do this right now Detective,” Shawn sighs as he shifts his hands on the door, moving back slightly to end the stilted conversation and shut Lassiter out when a hand darts out to push the door open.
“Woah, hey--” Shawn tries but the Detective cuts him off by suddenly gripping his shoulders and walking him back into the apartment.
“What the f--what are you doing?!” He hisses, wrenching himself out of Carlton’s hands.
“Sorry,” Lassiter says, “I don't, I’m not,” he breathes out sharply through his nose and lifts one hand to pinch into his eyes briefly.
“You know, if I illegally enter someone's home, they aren't usually there to see me do it,” Shawn snips, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, “allegedly--”
“I'm not good at this,” Lassiter cuts him off, his voice loud in the small entryway. He drops his hands to his side before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, “I've thought long and hard about exactly what I would say to you if I managed to catch you,” he gestures sharply at Shawn with an open palm, “to figure out exactly how you do what you do”.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It's exactly what he and Gus had been worried about back at the station. He had exposed himself and Lassiter was finally pouncing on it.
“You astound me Spencer”.
Shawn blinks, his head tilts slightly as he peers at Lassiter, his eyes tracing over his face for any hint of a lie.
It's the same drunk words from nearly a month ago, and this time Carlton is sober.
“I knew it wasn't that psychic crock, I've always known that,” Carlton continues, oblivious to Shawn's shock. He reaches back to close Shawns front door before stepping further into the room.
“But, over the last few months I've watched you make the most outlandish, ridiculous, amazing deductions seemingly out of thin air”.
Lassiter's eyes flick between Shawn's own, “but it's not out of thin air, is it?”
He takes another step closer, “you observe, you see things others miss, right? Like the elevation thing today”.
Shawn swallows heavily and tries for a laugh that rings out hollowly.
“Look Lassie, Carlytown, Lassidopholous,” his voice sounds unnaturally high pitched, nervous, even to his own ears as he takes a step back from the Detective, “you’re barking up the wrong tree--”
“And you deflect with stupid jokes, nicknames, and obnoxious theatrics with Guster so people don't pick up on it,” Lassiter says firmly, taking another step into Shawns space.
“Pick up on what?” Shawn says quietly.
Lassiter pauses, his throat bobs as he swallows before taking a deep, determined breath and squaring his shoulders, “how brilliant you are”.
Shawn snorts, waiting for the punchline, “okay, who are you and what have you done with Lassie?”
Lassiter doesn’t move and his expression remains unchanged, “I'm being serious, Shawn”.
Shawn barks out a crackling laugh through the sudden tightness in his throat after a beat, “but,” Shawn runs a shaking hand through his hair. It doesn’t make any sense, where the hell is this coming from he thinks, twisting his fingers to pull harshly at the roots, “you never said anything”.
Carlton steps closer, resuming his pursuit, “I'm saying it now”.
“Are you sure?” Shawn asks in a small voice before he clears his throat roughly, “I mean, are you sure this isn't a prank?”
Shawn grins but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, “is Ashton Kutcher about to jump out of my cabinet because I haven't really prepared to have guests over--”
Shawn stops short as Lassiter reaches out with one hand to cup his face while the other hand rises up to gently remove his fist from the iron grip he has on his own hair. Lassiter slowly untangles his fingers before bringing their hands down to hang between them.
“Definitely not a prank,” the Detective says softly as he squeezes Shawn's hand, and holy hannah when did Lassie become such a Casanova?
Carlton doesn't let go.
“This okay?” he asks, his blue eyes flit between Shawn's own.
Shawn feels his face and ears heat in an uncharacteristic moment of flustered surprise as he looks between his hand and Lassie's face. His mouth opens and closes but words, a previously unending resource for him, have vanished.
Carlton grins down at him, stepping closer, “finally stumped you eh Spencer? I thought I'd have to resort to drastic measures to shut you up,” he says, rubbing his thumb gently over Shawn's cheekbone.
Shawn huffs out a strangled laugh, licking his slightly chapped lips; he watches the way those same bright blue eyes follow the movement of his tongue.
“Drastic does seem more my style, but maybe you could pull it off”.
Carlton smiles as he slowly moves his hand to grip Shawn’s chin, tilting his face up just as he had that night at Tom Blairs.
“Shut up, Shawn,” Carlton breathes over his lips, gently sliding the tip of his nose down Shawns, still cognizant of the healing cartilage, before leaning down to finally kiss him.
Shawn makes a noise, a muffled hum of surprise as Carlton walks them backwards until they connect with the wall behind them. His hand slides up from Shawn's jaw to cup the back of his head as he presses further into him, while the other hand drops Shawn's to slide up his back, pulling him into Carlton even more.
Insistent lips coax his mouth open for Carlton to slide his tongue along Shawn's--who gave him the right, or the ability, to kiss like this??
Stuffy, uptight, by-the-book, Head Detective, Carlton Lassiter kissed like a man starved and Shawn could feel his brain vacillating between over analyzing this turn of events and turning to goo.
Maybe that Snapple intern was on to something because Shawn could easily see himself kissing Lassie like this for hours, weeks, maybe he'd have to give them a call about their stats, let them know the record would be broken by Lassie's lips and tongue.
Shawn's hands slide up Carltons chest as a firm knee slots between his legs, moaning as he grips at the lapels of the Detective's horrible suit jacket--if Shawn has a say moving forward, he's definitely going to be insisting on a wardrobe upgrade---
Carlton breathes out sharply through his nose as he pulls away, just far enough to stop the kiss but his Iips still brush Shawn's as he speaks, "I can hear you thinking a mile a minute, I must not be doing a very good job?”
Shawn huffs out a strangled laugh as he slides one of the hands on Carlton’s chest up to rest on the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the short hairs that have started to grow out.
“Me? Thinking? You must have confused me with someone else”.
“Shawn Spencer,” Carlton says softly as he kisses the apple of Shawn’s cheek, “fake psychic,” he kisses the soft skin beside Shawn’s right eye, “much smarter than he lets on” he kisses Shawn’s forehead,” loyal to a fault,” Carlton hums, finally pulling back to look him in the eye’s directly.
“Careful Lassie,” Shawn says a little breathlessly, “this is starting to sound like a compliment”.
Carlton hesitates for a beat, his thumb tracing up and down Shawn’s pulse point, “based on what I know of Henry, and that jackass who came into the department,” he says slowly, softly, “compliments probably came pretty sparingly for you”.
Shawn feels himself still in Carlton’s embrace, his mouth twitches at the corners as he tries for a grin that feels brittle, fake.
“Now I know you’re definitely confused, I love me some praise, Gus insists I have to be careful or my head'll swell, even more than it already has, and float away on the Santa Anas”.
He unwinds his hands from around the Detective and tries to step around him but Carlton’s grip around him is firm, “besides, that guy, that was, just an old friend from school--”
“Dammit,” Carlton says under his breath before shaking his head and seemingly steeling himself, “I need to…tell you something,” Carlton continues slowly, sliding his thumb in soothing half circles on Shawn's back, “I read the transcript from your call that night.”
Shawn can't stop the full body twitch at the words and does push against Carlton this time, ducking away from the warm hands holding him against the wall, “you-- come again?”
“Shawn--”
“You...you called him Princeton,” Shawn says weakly as the memory from earlier flashes before him. It was an odd thing for the Detective to say even then, but he’d been so distracted by the whole confrontation that its significance had slipped his notice. Jesus, how did that happen?
“I can explain,” Lassiter tries before Shawn waves a hand out in front of him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
“Explain it then,” he snaps.
Lassiter swallows, his mouth twitches miserably before he finally says, “outgoing calls are monitored Shawn, you called from Vicks desk, we have the transcript”.
The words hit him square in the chest and it takes everything in him not to tell the Detective to get the hell out of his apartment. His stomach clenches unhappily as he wipes his hand over his mouth, he hears his own small voice in his own head, sharp as though it was only yesterday.
“You were right Gus, he uh, he's going to Princeton, can't have someone like me dragging him down, wait, maybe I'm the Brodie in this scenario”.
Sometimes God will let us be uncomfortable for a dark, difficult period so He can bless us later on. He’ll close a door, which we don’t like, but later on He’ll open a bigger door. God is not as concerned about our comfort as He is about our purpose.
There are times when He will shake things up to force us to change. His goal is not to make our life miserable; He’s pushing us into our purpose. ✨️
There are days that the heart needs a refuge because it is tired of being strong and my feet without thinking always run towards you. Days when I don't even want to talk, but your words and the lines of your soul caress my eyes and the burdens become light and not so wearisome. Difficult days that vanish just with the thought of you, just seeing you here nestled firmly in my soul and Love lights up. The darkness disappears; I smile again. Thank you. I love you.
I just wanted to share this quote I found earlier that I had forgotten about:
This quote reminds me of how much friends mean to us. We could have had the worst day possible; they'd still be with us though. Sometimes they don't even have to say something and you know that they are there and wanting to help. This quote made me cry. I feel so lucky to have such an amazing group of friends, who are always there to help me. Quite often I don't feel like talking about my problems. My friends are so patient and just sit with me sometimes and just hug me. I honestly think more people should be like Piglet. 🤍💜
