#para:midnight

[reyrutherford-blog]

Midnight | Self-Para

Who: Reyna Rutherford & Tyrone Henderson

Where: On the bus and hotel in New York

When: Friday night for the flashback and on the bus on Saturday.

Notes: Rey finally breaks down and y’all get a sneak peek of her ex. Also why she’s been anti-social. Also, if you need a reminder, here’s her confessional with the note.

Triggers: Miscarriage, talks of alcohol & drugs and some shaming. 

 Reyna placed her head against the bus window while she listened to her song, Midnight and wiped away the tears that had escaped as she thought about New York/Philly and what happened. She felt her phone vibrate, pulled it out of her pocket and saw it was Tyrone, her ex. She bit down on her bottom lip as she placed it far away from her as possible and went back staring out the window. She pulled her throw closer to her body, sniffed and closed her eyes as she heard someone walk by her.  Rey didn’t help but let her mind wander back to the late night visitor she had.

Friday Night

Rey was getting ready for bed when she got the text and furrowed her eyebrows, not knowing how someone contacted her. She let out a breath as she fixed her hair wrap, slipped on her tennis shoes and headed down to the lobby. She stopped when she felt her breath hitched when she recognized a pair of shoes and hoped that it wasn’t the person. She swallowed as she pocketed her phone, glanced around, not knowing if the cameras were on her but she didn’t want to change things. Rey headed towards the person, grabbed their arm and pulled them into an excluded hallway. Once they were alone, Reyna looked up and swallowed hard as she recognized the dimples and the smile. Oh, the smile that made her weak. “What are you doing here, Tyrone?” She asked in a harsh whisper and poked her head to make sure that no one was watching them and looked up at him. “I can’t see my favorite girl?” She rolled her eyes as she swatted her hands away from going onto her hips. “No, because there’s always something up with you that causes you to hit me up.” Tyrone let out a chuckle as he nodded, slipped his hands into his leather jacket and licked his lips. “I got your message, on your last confessional and we both know that was fucked up for you to do that.” Reyna let out a bitter chuckle as she crossed her arms against her chest and rose an eyebrow. “Fucked up? Fucked up?! You weren’t there for me during the miscarriage, Tyrone!” She let her voice raised a little bit. “You were basically drowning in alcohol, drugs and shit while I had to be strong for the both of us, making the arrangements and dealing with your mom’s words of, it’s a blessing because I didn’t want that Philly trash in my family and the child was going to be deaf anyway and had to deal with another person with a disability. Yet, did you say anything? Fuck no.” She hissed and blinked away the tears. “And now, Im in the public eye and I have to grieve, in the public eye. So don’t come at me with the whole ‘that was fucked up’ when it was addressed to you and your family.” She glanced around, seeing some people looking towards them and sniffed before she looked back at him. “Now, we’re through. Never contact me again.” She walked out of the hallway and headed straight back to her bedroom with her head hanging down.

Back on the bus.

Reyna pulled her legs close to her chest and buried her face into her knees as she sobbed while her voice filled the headphones. She pulled her blankets over her head and hoped that sleep would wash over her.

[seoktio]

Midnight rendezvous | Sehun & Minseok

Looking back, Sehun should’ve realized that his actions were indeed unusual, especially considering the fact that his most restless nights were a thing of secret to even those who were the closest to him. But at the moment, he’s tired and all he wants to do is bury his face into Minseok’s hair so that he can pretend for at least a few hours that responsibilities don’t exist and that there’s not a formidable stack of paperwork waiting for him by the crack of dawn. “Why I haven’t done this sooner, I have no idea.” he ponders aloud to the railing as he makes his way to the address that’s glaring up at him from his phone, eyes squinting as he glances up from the text to confirm that, yes, he was at the right place. A sigh that he didn’t know he was holding rushes out when he confirms that Minseok is in a better place (the apartment was a substantial improvement from the other’s old home, if Sehun were to be completely honest) and he finally makes a move towards the door, knuckles paused over the frame.

[TEXT: Little Prince] :: I’m right outside, little love. ::

[TEXT: Little Prince] :: …that is, if I got the address right? ::

+++++

He's in the middle of flipping through the channels on TV, snuggling in the little blanket burrito he's bundled himself in, his worn bunny plushie tucked snugly under his arm and it's when his phone buzzes, does he finally stop the mundane action of channel surfing because damn it, who knew late night tv was so boring?

It only takes him a few seconds before he's shuffling towards the door, not bothering to unravel himself from his blanket, almost tripping over his own feet along the way. He can see Sehun through the peephole and it only serves to pique his interest further - the last time the Director had visited him was when he had been sick, and they had made up -- he can only wonder what was important enough to get Sehun to come over in the middle of the night.

Quietly, he unlocks the door and pulls it open slightly, enough for Sehun to slip in because it's cold outside, and Minseok doesn't like the cold. And he's sure Sehun must be freezing so it's only after he impatiently waits for the other to take his shoes off, successfully drags him to the couch, barely missing the floor as he stumbles over the loose blanket edges and places the hot cup of honey tea into the elder's hand does he feel content.

"...So what did I do to have the honor of you gracing me with your company tonight, hmm?"

[thesmytheescape]

Midnight

Tagging: Sebastian & Oliver Smythe

When: 3 months before their birthday, early morning

Where: ....The Brothel

Notes:

It was in the early hours of the morning, probably 2 or 3 am by the time Sebastian managed to all but crawl upstairs to bed. The steps were the hardest thing he’d ever had to face. Each step involved dragging one foot up… the next. Resting against the wall, eyes closed, exhausted, worn down and emotionally drained. Another step. Lift one foot, the other. Stop, rest. Repeat.

He ached. Every part of him ached, physically, mentally. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the stairs, fall asleep, maybe never wake up. But that wasn’t an option. He had to get back up to his room, needed a shower desperately, and needed sleep even more. His skin crawled, felt filthy, and he desperately wanted to scrub his skin raw. Tonight had been bad. Tonight had been… fucking awful, to be honest.

Eventually, he made it to the top of the stairs, all but stumbled into the bathroom at the end of the hall. He grabbed a threadbare towel and put it on the bench, dropped his clothing into a pile on the ground. He stepped under the shower once it had heated, whimpered slightly as the hot water hit his aching back. He glanced over his shoulder; yup, some bastard had broken skin tonight. No wonder he hurt so badly. He showered quickly, fought the urge to scrub his skin to bleeding, just gave himself a light clean by comparison. He was too tired to emotionally angst. He just wanted to get to bed now.

By the time he made it to his room, he felt less… broken. A shower always managed to do that, and he knew that once he was in bed, the last vestiges of panic would fade with the close body contact, the intimate touches of Olver. The bedroom was dark as he slipped in, pulled on some loose boxer briefs, and padded softly to the bed.

He didn’t know if Oliver was asleep, but just in case he was, he eased himself under the blankets, being careful not to move the bed too much. His brother smelled like home, comfort and security, and slowly, Sebastian wrapped his arms around his twin, tucking himself in nice and close, nuzzling the soft skin of his shoulder.