Summary: What the Funhaus Crew lacked in means, they made up for in attitude.
Warnings: Swearing, some violence.
WordCount: 1,647
It was bizarre how difficult it was.
Because it both was, and wasn’t, a pain.
And that was all down to, in the grand scheme of things, they had to be slightly sadistic to even consider this as their job, their life, what they wanted to do and who they wanted to be. It was a contradicting monster that led them all to where they were now - stuck in an abandoned warehouse with only a handful of tatty seats scattered about the place and a half broken mini fridge that was almost all alcohol and hardly anything of substance.
They’d hit the ground running but were fast losing balance, it wasn’t easy to establish yourself in the ins and outs of crime in Los Santos, not when there were already so many well established gangs that couldn’t afford anyone running into their turf, taking their pickings and leaving them to claw back the slippery slope that was respect.
It was dangerous business. You didn’t want to be in anyone’s pockets because once you were in there, you wouldn’t get back out.
The Funhaus Crew, unfortunately, were in a fair few people’s pockets as of late.
Or rather, they should be, but refused to compensate a rat race full of other gangs that felt more than a little fragile over having a new crew rush in on their jobs, full of enthusiasm and an almost psychotic passion for what they did. Fuck, they weren’t even doing it well, but it was something about their drive that was making the other’s uncomfortable.
Though the crew would argue that, currently, they were the most uncomfortable.
Especially considering James was laid out on the couch clutching at his bleeding arm, though it was leaking a lot more sluggishly than before it was still causing him agony all the same. Adam was sat in front of the beaten up sofa, legs aching from running so fast for so long and the unforgiving concrete floor, bruised to the nines and trying to ignore it in favour of comforting the other, which essentially boiled down to them both bitching about the situation and leaving Matt to do the actual nursing. If it wasn’t for him, half of them would walk around with bullet wounds, bruises and cut up skin hoping that if they complained enough they’d disappear out of thin air.
One thing was for sure, they weren’t getting any kind of revenge in the state they were in. Not quite yet.
More and more of their acquisition of illegal goods, theft, and the odd elimination task were being absolutely ruined by another gang turning up to either steal the inevitable pay or teach them a lesson, and they weren’t exactly ever equipped to go head to head with them and win. It was only their headstrong attitude keeping them together these days but even that was fading fast.
“Every fucking time-” James spat, shifting to try and get comfy and failing miserably. He wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of the situation making him suffer more, but this particular bullet wound was giving him serious grief, to the point where he hung his uninjured arm down if only to squeeze Adam’s bloodied hand to distract himself. Adam ignored his own aching and sore knuckles to let James indulge in the small comfort whilst Matt did his best to clean the damage up.
“We can’t keep letting this happen,” Matt mumbled softly, addressing the fact that he was sick of seeing what may as well be his family hurt all the time, whereas Lawrence went for a more materialistic view of it all.
“We’re never going to get anywhere if this keeps happening. It’s like running up against a fucking avalanche of douchebags.”
Elyse sniggered a little, but the sound was hollow and not half as amused as she felt. She let herself slide down against the wall to settle on the floor, exhausted and bruised like most of the others. They were genuinely lucky to be alive this time, and though they were pissed off it had also left that all too familiar fire burning in their stomachs - nothing but an addiction they couldn’t quit even if they knew it was eating them inside out.
As much as they wanted to do this by themselves, as a family, they knew that their only real option if they wanted to stay in the race and better yet, stay breathing, was to find help, someone that’d see their potential and offer their hand out without stripping them of the few achievements they’d earned as a unit. They knew they had merits but when other groups were out there, established, connected, kitted out with both the materials and the drive they also shared, it was useless to even try unless by some stroke of luck they made one score that was colossal enough to turn heads.
And honestly, with the amount of time it was going to take to lick these wounds they’d have better luck returning to the normality of living on the straight and narrow.
They spent the night in that warehouse, their buzz of the fight dying down as the early hours crawled in and they shared out whatever booze was knocking around the place, not caring if they were caught in such a state, if anything it’d only serve to bolster them even more, letting the gravity of their journey, or lack of it, weigh on them all individually and as a unit.
James was already feeling a lot better after Matt had managed to pry the bullet out of his arm and close it as best he could, sharing the couch as he always did with Adam by his side, not too subtly running his fingers up and down the side of Adam’s neck, the rest of his arm resting across the other’s back. It was innocent, for the most part, just another reminder that they were still in one piece and not blown up and scattered over half the city. Out of all of them, Matt and Adam were the ones to get most wound up about injuries and mishaps, knowing their dumb luck wouldn’t hold out for as long as they needed, leading to the others offering those small bits of physical affection a little more often to the pair if only to reassure them in their stunted ways. That was the other’s explanation, frankly James simply just loved Adam to fucking pieces.
The day that man passed up the chance to shower Adam in affection was the day hell froze over if all of them were being honest.
As the night dragged on, their insanely potent drive seemed to return. They were no longer licking their wounds, rather laughing the whole thing off and lazily contemplating what their next goal would be once everyone was back on their game. Not knowing they’d wake up that morning to an offer they couldn’t refuse, not knowing that their name was going to grow tenfold over just a month. No, as they all napped, uncomfortable, aching and cold, but somewhat content, they had no idea that the Hunters were working on tracking, finding, and offering them the hand they really needed.
Bruce all but shit his pants when he saw Geoff and Jack creeping through the near broken doors of the warehouse that morning, many of the other Hunters following suit. You couldn’t blame him, not when they were all geared up to the nines. James admitted to himself, silently, that aside from panicking like all hell he was a little bit proud they saw them as a threat enough to come armed...though he’d prefer not to get another bullet hole anytime soon, especially after the way Adam all but blocked James from view, like he was preparing to take a shot for him right off the bat. James filed that knowledge away for later, if there’d even be a ‘later’.
In the end, it was Gavin’s slurred, accent-laced rambling that let their shoulders relax and their few weapons to be lowered to negotiate. Honestly, he could have been telling them they were going to look like colanders once they were done and they wouldn’t have had a clue, it was mainly Jack’s apologetic look that solidified that they weren’t there to blow their brains out. Or at least, not for a while.
The following month was a blur.
Not because it was forgettable, but because it was hectic. If anything, that month was burned into their memories for the rest of their lives, defining their work, making them razor sharp and part of an even bigger family that was becoming a force to be reckoned with.
Neither group was the best at what they did. They had their talents, but there was someone out there that was faster, more accurate, had more flair. But one thing they all had was guts and that was what made them terrifying.
They’d get beaten, stabbed, shot and kidnapped and still be back the following month with a glint in their eye that near enough doomed whoever decided to fuck with them or their patchwork family.
Soon enough, they’d bought out fancy and modern apartments to crash in instead of warehouses that were rotting from the inside out, had first dibs on the best of the worst jobs, trading drugs and dead men for cash and finding themselves never in want of anything. They’d got what they wanted, all of them, after years of trying and failing and having salt rubbed into the wounds. Perhaps it was stupid how persistent they’d been, how close to being put six feet under they were, but if life was going to continue how it was as of late, well.
A few scars were definitely worth that, because they’d be damned if they’d stop there.
Summary: Kovic, a struggling teen living in a warehouse with only his art and music for company. Peake, a lonely teen living at home with only his art and photography for company. A dog is also there.
Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of vomit/violence, self deprication issues.
Word count: 5,582
The first thing that caught Peake’s attention about the abandoned warehouse was the strong smell of cigarette smoke and acrylic paints, an art medium he knew well from his time spend in the art room at school. Clutching his newest purchase, a Canon EOS 5Ds, the short and somewhat shaking Matt made his way up the deafeningly creaky stairs.
Emerging at the top mezzanine floor, he let out a sharp gasp at the view through the broken windows lining the wall opposite where he stood. Four massive windows covered the entire expanse of the west wall, with only one sporting whole glass panes. The other three had fragments still clinging to the frame, or in the case of the 2nd from the right, none at all, offering a breathtaking uninterrupted view of the valley beyond the warehouse.
The smell of paint grew stronger as he explored the mezzanine further, until he rounded a thin wall to find a tall, built, punk-looking guy swaying his hips to some music that was unheard to Peake. In his left hand was a wooden board with several globs of paint in which he was dipping a messy looking paintbrush that he held in his right hand. His back was turned to Peake and didn’t seem to hear him over the insanely loud music coming from his headphones that were attached to the walkman hooked onto his belt buckle.
This mystery painter stuck an imposing sight to Matt, exaggerated by his torn up leather jacket covered in paint splashes and half-hearted stitch repairs. The longer he stood fixed to the floor, the more frightened Matt became of the man in front of him. What if he was mad that Matt was here? What if he’s from a gang? What if he’s a murderer? What if -?
“Uh, hello? You okay?” A gravelly voice tugged Matt from his thoughts, drawing his focus back to the painter who was now facing him, a cigarette stuck between his lips at the corner of his mouth. He was sporting a well filled-out beard and a curious expression as he peered at Matt. It took a moment for him to register that he was being addressed by this guy.
“I said are you okay? You look lost,” he offered Matt a half-smile, half-smirk.
Matt again just blinked, before finding his voice, “Oh - uh. Yeah, no I’m fine. Sorry to bother, I’ll - uh, I’ll go now.”
Red and anxious, Matt turned away, embarrassed at his lack of social skills before he was stopped by his voice again.
“Hey, uh - you looking for something?”
Matt turned back to him, perplexed, “Hm?”
“I noticed the camera, you looking for a photo op or something?”
Matt glanced down at the camera slung around his neck and nodded, “Actually, yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“Well then you’re in luck I reckon,” the mystery painter took the dart from his mouth and waved towards the doorway on his left. He strode away from the wall he was painting on and out of the small room in the opposite direction to where Peake entered.
Although still slightly nervous that this guy was a murderer, Peake followed obediently and was surprised at the sight the was greeted with in the next room.
It was flooded with warm sunlight, due to the massive hole in the ceiling above the centre of the room as well as yet more windows, this time facing towards the forest along the hills as well as a section of the valley that was visible from the main room of the mezzanine.
The punk painter stood in the middle of the room, carefully watching Matt’s reaction with some visible trepidation.
“It’s magnificent,” Matt breathed, almost floating over to the wide windows, eyes scanning the landscape. “How’d you find this place?”
When no reply came, Matt turned back to find the mystery man unmoving in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable. Reaching up the scratch at the back of his head, he frowned slightly, “Y’know, circumstances and stuff. Lucky I guess.”
“Oh. Uh - yeah, really lucky man,” Now it was Matt’s turn to feel put on the spot.
The guy turned to leave now, raising a hand in farewell and returning the lit cigarette back to his mouth.
Suddenly Matt was overwhelmed with an odd mixture of curiosity and bravery.
“Hey - wait!”
He chucked a look back at Matt, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
“What’s your name? I’m Matt by the way, normally I’m called Peake, I guess.”
He received a soft smile in return, “Kovic. See ya round, Peake.”
Matt spent what was by his count around 5 hours in that room, photographing and sketching the landscape before him. He was particularly enthralled by the sunset that he witnessed, taking over 60 pictures in the space of 2 minutes. By the time the sun had well and truely disappeared, Peake packed up his scattered gear into his backpack and made his way out of the warehouse. As he backtracked his path through the warehouse, he ducked into the room that Kovic has been painting in. He was surprised that he felt oddly disappointed that the painter was no where to be seen, until he noticed a slight glow coming from the far corner of the room. As he crept closer, Peake identified it as an almost burnt out cigarette sitting in an ashtray, next to which was a slumbering Kovic, clutching a beat up copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. He seemed to be in a very deep sleep, with soft snores emanating from his slightly parted mouth and shivers wracking his body in the cold. Once again, feeling immensely awkward, Matt slowly backed away from the sleeping form and out of the room, sending up a prayer for the kind and apparently homeless punk painter.
Peake returned to the warehouse mezzanine the following day, this time with his backpack laden with art supplies and snacks, as he was determined to actually get some painting done during his day off. Upon arriving at the same room as yesterday, Peake was thrilled to find a beautiful vista of light cloud cover greeting him as it coasted over the valley. With a soft smile, he set out his paints, emptying some of his water from his canister into a plastic cup and began to lazily bleed colours together across the page.
Three pages of paintings into his new sketch book and Peake was yet to find a combination of colours that could accurately capture the landscape before him, causing him to grow a little irksome at his perceived wasting of a full day of work. A deliberate cough from behind the frustrated painter caused him to turn, greeted with the sight of Kovic slouching in the doorway with an unreadable expression. He looked exhausted, messy hair sticky up in every direction, aside from the shaved sections on the side, creating a mohawk effect. He still wore the previous days attire, making Peake a little concerned for his hygiene levels.
“Hey there Peake,” Kovic spoke before Matt had a chance, offering a smile, pushing his bearded cheeks upwards, forcing his eyes into a squint. Matt decided that he liked Kovic’s smile.
“Art again?”
“Hmm? Oh - uh, yeah, painting today,” Peake fumbled, gesturing to his mess of papers and paints.
“You, uh, you doing art too?”
Kovic, cocked his head to the side, as if debating his answer, “Nah, I don’t think I will, but who knows. I’m heading out for a while,” with that he turned on his heel and strode back out of the room, but not before turning back to Matt, tossing another warm grin his way, “Try not to trash the place while I’m gone.”
Matt was left gaping after the oddly charismatic and softly spoken boy, before shaking his head of thoughts and trying (keyword being trying) to concentrate on his paintings.
Due to a meltdown of an elderly neighbour, Matt had been unable to get back to the warehouse, splitting his time between visiting the hospital with his parents and helping to look after the woman’s three grandchildren who lived with her. He was exhausted and frustrated, mind straying often to Kovic and his friendly smile. Not only the friendly boy was encouraging him to return, but the possibility of art and a peaceful environment in which to paint.
After two weeks of being essentially homebound, Peake was able to sneak back to the warehouse late in the evening. The sun had already set by the time he arrived, casting dusky shadows across the supposedly abandoned building, fuelling his desire to capture the image in paints.
Upon reaching the now familiar mezzanine, Peake was greeted with an image reminiscent of his first meeting with Kovic. He once again had headphones on, swaying lazily to something inaudible, dipping his worn brush into paints to a rhythm unheard to Peake, creating a sort of form of dance.
Walking round to catch his attention, Peake waved his hand gingerly at him, smiling lightly when he turned to face him.
“Peake! I thought you must have forgotten about this place,” Kovic greeted him with a furrowed brow, not angry, merely confused by his absence.
Awkwardly, Matt reached behind his head to absentmindedly scratch at his scalp, “Yeah, well, got roped into babysitting for a while.”
Kovic’s bearded face split into a grin at Matt’s tongue in cheek reply, beckoning him over to his newest piece.
Matt took a moment to observe the abstract painting before him, black and white, broken up with slashes and splatters of blues. The shades varied from the palest of turquoises to deep blackish blue, mixing to form a cosmic wall of depth and colour. Awed, Matt could only smile appreciatively before remembering the mural that had been in its place just a few weeks ago.
“Why do you paint over everything?”
Kovic was quiet for a while, taking a seat cross legged on the harsh concrete, waving Peake to sit with him.
“You ready for some real talk, buddy?”
Somewhat confused, Peake nodded, now intrigued.
“Well, first things first, I’m Adam, Kovic is my last name and I prefer it so that’s just what I say. Anyway,” he waved away Matt’s open mouth of questions, “Life isn’t permanent right? It’s this big journey, one that can stop whenever, or could continue despite coming so close to an end. It seems permanent from one person’s standpoint, but as soon as you consider more than one perspective, it truly becomes a fluid mosaic of events and time. Nothing is forever, it’s just not possible. I paint over works because I don’t believe in permanence. I don’t like things to be set it stone, otherwise you end up backed into a corner because of old decisions.”
Blown away by Kovic’s (Adam’s?) logic, Matt was stunned into silence. He noted the forlorn look upon the boy’s face and wondered what had happened to him to make him fear believing in the permanence of life. He felt sick for a moment, overwhelmed with sorrow for Kovic. He was homeless, hopeless and alone.
“Why - uh, why? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Adam smiled wryly, “I’ve lost a lot of people, a lot of time and opportunities. I guess I’ve become pretty jaded, sorry about that. But yeah, I think I’m tired of relying on some other higher power to fix things, so I took the matters into my own hands. Having the power to destroy and create sort of keeps me sane, keeps me thinking I can control what I’m doing.”
“I think that’s why I do it too. Everyone in my life is so controlling, dictating what I do and when I do it, that art has become this form of quiet rebellion,” Peake replied, understanding everything. He connected with his words and felt empowered by this mutual understanding.
Adam suddenly jumped to his feet, extending a hand down to Peake who still sat, processing his words.
“Here, I’ll let you get to work,” He pulled Matt to his feet, “Thanks for listening though.” Another strong smile, warmed Peake to the core, making him feel light on his feet, as though he was energised by the simple expression, all but floating into his usual room.
Matt spent the next two days thinking about Kovic and his words, praying for an opportunity to leave the house and escape to the warehouse. He was granted his wish when Mrs. Hollon returned to the house next door, apparently no longer psychotic and once again able to care for herself and grandchildren. Relieved, Peake squirrelled himself away to the warehouse only to be disappointed to find Adam absent.
Resigned to the fact that he would be on his own today, though curious as to where Adam could be, he trudged into the adjoining room, this time to sketch using charcoal.
After not even an hour, Peake heard scuffling coming from the main room, followed by a muttered, “Shit,” and a soft bark. Confused but glad to have Adam back, Peake left his spot and rounded to corner to be greeted with a horrific sight. Adam lay face down on the floor with a large great dane cross sniffing at him, whimpering slightly. His face was covered in bruises, his nose was clearly broken. His usually spiky hair was matted to his head with blood, hands shaking with split knuckles.
Hiding an intake of breathe, Peake walked forwards gingerly, “Adam? Kovic? It’s Peake,” Adam looked up groggily, revealing a black eye and split lip before boldly breaking out into a lopsided grin.
“Hey buddy, meet Bruce,” his rasped, gesturing to the dog who had now settled down beside him.
“Okay, Kovic, I am glad to meet the dog, but I think we need to sort you out first, alright?”
Raising an eyebrow in mock confusion, Adam was clearly amused by this situation, something that Peake did not understand at all.
“Adam, please don’t fuck around. You’re all kinds of messed up right now. I’m going to get my bag and then I’ll be back, okay?” Matt was not in the mood to joke around, shaken by his friend’s (friend?) current state.
Scurrying back into the room, Matt was pleased to see that Adam had sat up was and was gentle scratched behind Bruce’s ears, sending a thump thump of his tail against the floor.
“Okay, all I have is water and paper towels, so I’ll get you cleaned up and then see what else needs to be done.”
“What are you, a fucking boy scout?”
“Trained in first aid and emergency recovery,” Matt snapped, getting frustrated by Adam’s blasé attitude.
Kovic opened his mouth to reply, only to shut it quickly at Matt’s expression.
Soaking a paper towel, Matt made quick work of gently, yet thoroughly cleaning Adam’s face of dried blood, taking the time to observe how bad his nose was. Sighing heavily when he saw how smashed up it was he cast his eyes over his scalp and was relieved to find only two split in the skin, nothing serious and no concussion.
“How did you do this to yourself Kovic,” he muttered, moving down to clean his hands.
Adam glanced down at the now dosing dog, looking sheepish.
“There were boys being cruel to Bruce. He’s not my dog, he’s a street dog but I met him a few months ago and I feed him when I can. They were throwing rocks at him when I saw so I yelled at them and then they went after me.”
Peake stiffened and glanced back up at Kovic’s face.
“Really?” his voice was a near whisper.
“Mmhmm, I took Bruce with me to here, it’s not safe for him out there.”
“Clearly,” Matt snorted in response, “Maybe next time you go saving dogs you don’t try and take on a whole gang. I suggest some stealth.”
Kovic flashed him a genuine smile, re-splitting his lip much to Matt’s frustration.
“You’ve done enough, Peake. You can go now if you want,” Kovic waved him away.
“But you-”
“No, I’m fine now.” Adam voice took on a hard tone, stopping Matt from arguing further.
Annoyed at the boy’s stubbornness, Matt packed his things in silence and left, stalking out of the room, leaving Kovic on the floor with Bruce, running his hands over his tender knuckles.
Peake remained in a shitty mood for the next two days, swinging between being worried for and being angry at Kovic. He was so stubborn, so much so that he refused proper medical care even though he was clearly in pain. It was only three days into his ‘holiday’ from the warehouse that Peake began to worry for Bruce, remembering that Kovic had said he fed him when he could, but he doubted that was very often. With a heavy sigh, Peake grabbed his wallet and headed off to the pet store.
Dragging two shopping bags of dog biscuits and a dog bed, Peake angrily climbed the ladder to the mezzanine, only to have the scowl whipped off his face when he caught sight of Bruce in the far corner of the room. Carefully extending his hand not holding dog food, Peake crept closer, waiting for the massive dog to greet him first before he dared get too close. To his relief the dog dipped its head to sniff eagerly at his hand, wagging his tail as he did so.
“Where’s Adam, buddy?” Peake spoke softly to Bruce as he opened a shopping bag, beginning to scoop out biscuits for the starving great dane.
The dog was, obviously, no help, but was extremely excited to have food. It was only when Peake stopped watching the dog and cast his eyes around the room that he noticed the pile of blankets that Bruce had been guarding. Buried within the numerous miss-matched blankets and jumpers was Adam, pale and blissfully asleep. The area around his left eye had darkened considerably, while the swelling around his nose had reduced and it looked as though his lip was healed.
Peake let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, relieved to find Adam wasn’t in worse shape. Once again, Jonathan Livingston Seagull was being cradled by the boy who seemed to be entirely undisturbed by Peake’s presence.
Matt coughed, trying to get Adam’s attention, but when that failed he lightly pushed his shoulder, trying to wake him. Still motionless. He pushed a little rougher and only briefly glimpsed Adam’s eyes shooting open before he was socked in the jaw, sending him sprawling across the floor.
“Whoa, holy shit Peake! I’m so sorry buddy, I - just, I didn’t know it was you.” Adam was scrambling over to Matt where he sat rubbing at his jaw. He grabbed at one of Peake’s hands and held it, leaning in close to face, inspecting his jaw.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” his voice was much softer now, breath gently rolling against Peake’s quickly reddening face.
He just nodded dumbly in response, stunned into silence by their proximity to each other. As if sensing Peake’s unusual attitude, Adam let go of his hands and looked away.
“Oh, you brought Bruce food.”
Bruce woofed happily at the sight of Adam being awake, but refused to leave his pile of biscuits.
“Uh - yeah. Was at the pet store and figured he might need some snacks.” Peake was still a little dazed, but cobbled together a half decent sentence.
“Thanks Matt, but - uh, I can’t accept this,” Adam held up a hand to halt Matt’s protests, “I can’t expect you to spend your money, it’s fine really.”
Matt just sighed heavily, not willing to have a real argument with Adam today. “Look, I brought the dog food. It’ll be a waste if you don’t take it. Also I don’t want this dog to suffer because you’re stubborn. And if you feed the dog, then you won’t feed yourself. Just take it, please.”
Adam seemed to accept defeat and bowed his head, “Thanks Peake.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking turns hand feeding Bruce and giving him soft scratches. Matt was also taking the time to observe Kovic while he was relaxed. He still sported the beard he had when they first met over a month ago, but it had grown a bit wild in the last week or so. His smile was almost ever-present, something Matt was eternally grateful for. Despite his injuries, Peake would even venture to call Adam handsome. This thought brought a light blush to his cheeks, turning away with a wry smile to disguise it.
“Hey Peake, I - uh, god this is lame,” Kovic rubbed a hand over his face, halting his mumbling in its tracks, “I just wanted to really thank you, like, I haven’t known anyone that’s been nice to me for such a long time that it sort of gets hard to tell the difference between someone genuine and someone fake, but. I really believe you are the most real and unwaveringly honest person I’ve ever met.”
Peake let his hidden grin grow, turning back to face Kovic to see him looking imploringly at him. As though he were unable to stop, his words tumbled out, “Kovic, you have become so insanely important to me over these weeks, and I can’t imagine what it would be like to have not met you. You - you’re wonderful and creative and lovely. I don’t want you to suffer alone, okay?”
Adam’s nervous expression morphed into one of relief and seemed to radiate happiness. Reaching over to take Peake’s hand, he lead him from the floor over to his newest piece on his wall.
“I realised yesterday that I had never actually asked you what you thought of my art.” He gestured with his free hand to wall, splashed with bright yellows and oranges today, filling Peake with a sense of warmth, reminding him of the many sunsets he had observed from his room in the warehouse.
“I think it’s beautiful, as cheesy as that sounds,” Matt’s voice was barely above a whisper as though he were afraid to break the moment. “You know that you’re wonderful right? And that you deserve so much more than what you’ve been dealt.”
Within a second of finishing his sentence, Peake felt Kovic whip his hand from his, staggering backwards across the room to a now attentive Bruce.
Raising a shaking hand towards Peake, Adam spat out, “Don’t ever act like a don’t fucking deserve this. How can you stand there, barely knowing who I am and act like you think I’m any good? I’m dirt, I’ve fucked up too many times and I fucking deserve to live in trash, to suffer and be left alone.”
His breath was ragged, echoing around the old warehouse, as he fought back tears. Taking another step back from Matt, he gathered himself enough to finally say, “You need to leave Matt. You don’t need to be here and I don’t want your pity.”
Matt felt as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, freezing him to the spot. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened and, before he had a chance to process it, Kovic had grabbed Matt’s bag and thrown it towards him.
“Get out.”
Two weeks.
It had been two weeks since Matt had set foot in the warehouse.
Fourteen painful days of angst and frustration, see-sawing between being angry at Adam for his words and being angry at himself for not having the courage to go back. Matt had taken to nightly walks, particularly near to the warehouse, sick of spending evenings at home under the critical eye of his parents. It hurt to admit how much he missed Adam, how much he had valued their time together. But mostly, it hurt to acknowledge his foolishness to believe he could help the boy he had come to care so much for.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Peake kicked a stone across the road, watching as it came to halt at the front door of the warehouse. He felt stupid and betrayed, but mostly confused. He had no idea why Adam had reacted like that but figured that his life before Peake was a rocky one.
Peake was woken from his lamenting by a wet nose being pressed against the side of his face. Whipping around, he was surprised to see Bruce before him whining gently.
“What’s up buddy? Been a while, eh?” Matt buried his hands in Bruce’s shaggy coat, relaxing at the familiarity of Kovic’s dog.
Bruce, however, continued to whine, nipping at Matt’s sleeve before trotting back to the warehouse, leaving Matt alone on the curb. Curious and concerned about Bruce’s behaviour, Matt dragged himself to his feet and, with a moment of trepidation, stepped into the warehouse before taking his usual ladder up.
He found Bruce madly wagging his tail emerging from an adjacent room, clearly having found another way in. Peake’s stomach lurched as his eyes fell upon a body laying spread-eagle in the centre of the room.
Kovic was shaking violently, a sweat breaking out across his brow but was seemingly unconscious. He was frighteningly pale and a pale froth spilled from his mouth and nose. Running forwards, Peake let himself fall to his knees beside Adam, scooping his head up into his lap, frantically wiping away the vomit from his face. When he found that Adam remained unconscious even when moved he pulled out his phone and dialled 911, fumbling through an explanation of his condition before receiving a promise of 5 minutes.
With a lurch and shudder, Kovic, now pale and shaking violently, choked out some sick. A pained moan escaped him, sharply drawing Peake’s attention back to his pseudo-patient. Pressing a hand to Kovic’s forehead, Matt was surprised to find his skin to be cool to the touch, having expected him to be burning up judging by his other symptoms.
With gentle hands, Peake encouraged his friend to sit up, guiding him to a support pillar of the warehouse.
“Hey, Kovic, hey,” Matt urged, noting the rolling of Kovic’s eyes as he struggled to maintain focus on Matt.
“C’mon buddy, just stay awake, keep breathing, okay? Someone is coming to help, alright?” The shake in his voice took the strength from his words.
Gazing down at his pallid and semi-lucid friend, Matt was struck with a sudden realisation that he had grown very attached to his ‘punk in every way except personality’, dog loving, gentle souled brilliant artist friend before him.
Before Peake had enough time to gather his thoughts on the matter, a woman’s voice sounded in his ear.
“Are you Matthew Peake?”
Matt tore his eyes away from Adam just long enough to glimpse a woman who was now squatting beside him with a kind smile on her face.
He nodded numbly, distracted just long enough to allow for Adam to be taken from him by a paramedic who also flashed him a smile, more pained and faked.
“Okay then Matthew, we’re going to take him to the hospital for treatment. Are you family?”
“No,” he croaked out, feeling faint, as though the floor had dropped from beneath him, “No - friend.”
“That’s okay, are you feeling okay Matthew?” She had moved to sit beside him, placing a warm and grounding arm around his back.
“I-I don’t think I am, sorry. Oh god, what - what happened? Why is he leaving? I don’t understand,” Matt was struggling to speak as he began to hyperventilate, his vision blurring into a single point of light.
“Matthew Peake, listen to me, okay? I need you to breathe as I say.” Warm hands grabbed at his own, drawing his focus.
“In for six and out for eight, ready? Okay, with me Matthew, just focus on my voice. In, one, two, three, four, five, six. Now, out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Let’s repeat okay?”
Her gentle and solid voice kept Matt grounded as she took his through the breathing exercise, slowly pulling him from his panic and bringing him back to the world.
“That’s much better, brilliant Matthew, can you stand?”
He confirmed with a weak nod, struggling to his feet to stand beside the paramedic.
“We’re going to take him to the hospital now, okay? Do you have a way to get home?”
“Yeah - I can walk,” his voice was still scratchy but at least functional.
She peered at him, unconvinced, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I walk a lot.”
“Okay then, do you want us to contact you when he’s conscious?”
Matt froze, terrified to face Kovic after the night’s events before settling on a reply of, “No thanks.”
She once again fixed him with an analytical glare before nodding sharply and essentially letting him go.
Surprisingly, only four days after the traumatic night at the warehouse, Matt found a hastily scrawled note pushed through his front door, sending his heart aflutter.
‘Peake,
I want to thank you for saving me. I owe an explanation - the same dicks who hurt Brucie found him out the front and wanted him back so we fought again and then they gave me some pills and threatened me and shit, saying that Id better not be there next time they come around. Im stupid and in a bad place so I thought fuck it and took them after a particularly rough day. I dont remember what the doctors said it was but I almost died.
You really did save me, in many ways I guess, I sort of thought a lot in the hospital and I feel awful for how I spoke to you. Ive been alone for so long that I hated the idea of help but i miss you and our chill times and I know Brucie does too.
Come visit some time,
Kovic’
Hands shaking and heart pounding, Matt through his front door open and ran down the street towards the warehouse. His mind was filled with everything Kovic, and he suddenly couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. He liked this guy more than he had ever liked anyone else ever, he just wanted to be with him, run away with him and keep him safe and happy.
“Oh god,” Matt panted out when he reached the warehouse, embarrassed by the smile that seemed to be permanently etched into his features.
Climbing the ladder once more, Matt was overjoyed to find Adam swaying his hips to some music that was unheard to Peake. In his left hand was a wooden board with several globs of paint in which he was dipping a messy looking paintbrush that he held in his right hand. His back was turned to Peake and didn’t seem to hear him over the insanely loud music coming from his headphones that were attached to the walkman hooked onto his belt buckle.
“Adam!”
“Peake!”
They crushed each other into a tight hug, both wanting to bask in the moment of reconciliation. Adam stunk of acrylic and smokes but Matt didn’t care.
“You came. I didn’t know if you would,” Adam grinned at him, making his heart flip.
“Of course I did, you big idiot.”
Shyly, Adam took Peake’s hand and lead him over to the large window over looking the valley. The contact made Peake’s cheeks burn.
“You are like a goddam ray of sunshine, you know that?” Peake couldn’t help his words, feeling so overwhelmed in the moment.
Now was Adam’s turn to blush, turning Peake’s hand over in his own to softly trace along the life lines of his palm.
“Can I - Ah, fuck it. Kovic can I just kiss you already.”
“God yes.”
“Thank fuck,” Peake wasted no time in swooping in to capture Kovic’s lips, smiling into the kiss and Adam responded in kind. They leant heavily on one another, fitting against each other with stunning perfection. Neither had never felt as they did in that moment, dizzy with euphoria as each explored the taste of the other.
Peake the steady warmth radiating from Adam, inhaling the scents of paints, blood and smoke. He felt as though he had found his moment of forever, content to exist solely in this moment. Like this was meant to be. Adam’s left hand was laced with Peake’s, splayed across his thigh, providing him with leverage to tilt him backwards and take more control.
Peake let out a breath only to have Adam part his lips and fill the space once again. Matt reached his free hand up to hold onto tufts of Kovic’s unruly hair, relishing the feeling of him against himself and the contented noises Adam was making at his touch. Hot breaths and the taste of a morning coffee and him filled Peake’s mouth until he could hardly breathe from the intensity. Adam broke away, immediately bring his hand from the back of Peake’s head to rest against his cheek, a soft smile gracing his face.
“Hey,” Adam murmured against Peake’s mouth, “Have I ever told you how much I like you?”
Matt grinned, pressing another soft kiss to Adam’s lips, “Not with words exactly.”
Adam let out a strong laugh, eyes squeezing into crescents as his body shook with mirth before leaning back in to breathe softly against Matt’s parted mouth, “I’ll have to work on that then.”
Summary: Matt didn't know why he was so obsessed with the hour glass, especially when his was broken, all he knew is that he both did and didn't want Adam to care.
Warnings: N/A.
WordCount: 3,972
I.
Matt still had the pieces.
They had once been glittering, shining, an absolute pure beacon of hope and for what the future would hold for him some day. When the days grew rough and his nights sleepless, it was always there. An intricate, beautiful hour glass that he’d watch for hours if he could, the peace it brought nothing shy of priceless to him.
And then...then he had made a mistake.
He grew to love the comfort of it far, far too much. Kept it with him at all times when it should have safe somewhere at home. At school, especially, it was the only thing to drown out his nerves, to make the day seem not so bad at all.
When they knocked it out of his hands he felt his entire being shatter with it.
All they did was laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
And Matt, usually so composed and calm had cried into the early hours, knowing that his beacon of hope and a promise of something better to come, a promise of support and unconditional and unquestionable love was gone forever.
He’d never know.
He’d never, ever know who his soulmate was.
And the more he dwelled on it, the more sadness welled up inside him, up until the point he grew bitter about it all. He hated hearing about other people’s hour glasses, hated hearing about highschool sweethearts who had gotten lucky, and even as he grew older the pain didn’t ever leave him. If anything, it grew.
He was ashamed to think he’d let something so monumentally important be ruined because of his own carelessness, because he'd become so obsessed with once he was old enough to understand the sheer weight of its existence.
And so he lied, and he hated that even more.
People talked about the hour glasses so often, or at least to Matt it felt like it, and when asked if he’d found his soulmate yet, he did anything he could to move the subject along, or he’d explain that he’d met them overseas and they were working on settling together in the future. Anything to avoid the horrible and cold realisation that he would never know.
But that wasn’t it.
Even if he forgot about it. Even if he just lived his life as normal a lot of people would downright refuse to bother with romantic relationships unless their hour glass had counted down. It represented something rather urgent. People were so obsessed with making the most of their limited time on this earth and those counters were an exact personification of that. That wasn’t to say everyone was the same, but as Matt’s luck would be...every time he found himself being drawn to someone they quickly withdrew, knowing it wasn’t what they’d ultimately settle for.
And that was the reason, that when Matt found himself falling for Adam, he tried his absolute best not to get too attached.
He was adamant on hiding away from the romantic elements of the world, determined not to be hurt again over it all, and yet...he couldn’t help himself. There was something calming about Adam. He wasn’t quite as boisterous as the others, but still immensely funny and charming, but above all he made Matt feel safe. Like he was home. And that bittersweet idea was enough to keep him balancing on the thin line of letting himself be drawn to Adam, and wanting to quit his job and run away.
It was breaking him down but he couldn’t help himself. A hopeful part of him wanted to believe that maybe he was lucky, maybe he didn’t need the counter to know, but especially when he returned home, alone and tired, the bad thoughts started trickling back in. Sometimes it was a gentle shower, other times it was a hurricane, and he came to work many a time exhausted with sore eyes and an even more painful head. And then there would be Adam, all gentle smiles and warm hands rubbing his shoulder.
If Matt had been in a better state of mind about the whole thing, he might have noticed it as the first sign that Adam was beginning to get rather fond of him, too.
II.
“You alright, Matt?”
Matt couldn’t help but jump, tugging his headphones off which hadn’t even been on for the last half hour as he zoned out, clicking through files and making very minor tweaks as he felt his concentration trail off and exhaustion start to kick in. It’d been a little bit of a busy week but regardless, his head was just a fog the past month. Not so much to cause any issues, but enough to make some people worry, the latter accentuated by the fact that Adam was now perched on a seat next to him with a drink in hand, eyes pinned on Peake as he waited for a reply. It wasn’t an intimidating gaze, but it was intense, and Matt shied away from it every time no matter how warm that expression was.
“Yeah, just tired,”
“Can’t sleep or just been busy?”
“Bit of both, really. More the, ugh, more the first than anything,” Matt’s voice was quiet, trying not to draw attention to himself and hopefully sound nonchalant enough not to make Adam worry, but that appeared all too late regardless.
“Something on your mind? You know you can talk to us, right?”
Matt’s lips curled into a smile, but it faded quickly as he nodded, feeling a little guilty.
“Yeah, I know. It’s nothing, really,”
“Can’t be nothing if it’s keeping you up, Matt.”
Matt sighed without really registering it, and Adam’s face fell a little, feeling like perhaps he’d pried too much.
“Sorry, I’m just worried about you, is all. You’ve been even quieter than usual these past few weeks. You don’t have to talk about it, I just...you know. I’m here, is all.”
With that, Adam’s hand came to clasp at Matt’s shoulder, squeezing comfortingly before his thumb began to run gentle circles into the fabric of his clothes, and even through Matt’s oversized hoodie he could feel the warmth radiating from the touch and felt a shiver run through him despite it.
“It’s cool, Adam. I appreciate it.” Matt said, leaning back and not too inconspicuously further into Adam’s touch and running a hand across his own face, sighing deeply.
“Hey, how about you come over after work? I’ll order us some food and we can just hang out, might help you destress abit?”
Matt, in short, panicked. He tensed up and Adam must have noticed because his grip on him slackened before withdrawing altogether. He tried to run through excuses in his head but Adam’s rejected expression was enough to twist his stomach into painful knots. He did want to spend time with Adam. God, he always wanted to spend time with Adam. But he felt like he shouldn’t be giving more reason to get attached. There was no point. None at all. Or so he thought. In the end, he couldn’t say no to Adam, and quickly smiled.
“Sounds good. I’ll chip in for food.”
Adam practically beamed, clapping him on the back and telling him to find him once he was ready to leave, knowing Matt had a habit of running late with his work just to finish something off. The evening, to Matt, came both too quickly and not quick enough.
III.
Adam was chattering away happily all through the evening, and Matt reckoned he could have listened to him for days. He wasn’t much of a talker himself, but Adam seemed to be full of conversation that night and luckily for Peake, Adam knew he was quiet not because he wasn’t interested, but just because he preferred to be and was content just with having company.
It was lucky for them both that it was Friday, because soon enough they were comfortably perched together on the sofa, the TV droning away and the early hours of Saturday morning were drifting in, all of the traffic outside of Adam’s apartment fading into nothing, leaving only the gentle drone of the television to fill the silence. They were both tired, and Matt especially was exhausted, but neither wanted to sleep even though Adam had said Peake could crash at his place.
Adam broke the silence with a small yawn, stretching back further into the sofa and, after, further into Peake’s side, who smiled to himself if not a bit sadly, knowing he was going against what he’d trained himself to do all these years. But still, he was so tired, so warm, and it’d felt like a blessing to spend so much time alone with Adam. So much so, he barely even noticed when Adam seemed to throw caution to the wind, playfully throwing an arm around Peake and nuzzling himself into the other’s shoulder. Matt didn’t even flinch, didn’t even tense, and he didn’t know if it was his resolve dying or the fact that he was far too tired to argue. Instead, he tentatively wriggled his arm out to run his fingers through Adam’s hair, who yawned again, a pleased groan catching in his throat.
“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Adam mumbled, and Peake huffed out a quiet laugh in response, only just noticing the TV was now blank and in standby.
“Me too. I can’t even be bothered to move,”
Adam just chuckled, shuffling lethargically to get more comfortable. After a while, Matt was actually worried the other man had fallen asleep on him, but eventually Adam stirred, lifting his head up only slightly just to talk.
“You feeling better now, bud?”
“Still tired, but yeah. Lot better, thanks to you.” The last part was an said as an afterthought, an afterthought that Adam seemed to perk up at, shifting up so he could look at Matt.
“I really was worried about you for a bit, you know? I thought I’d pissed you off,”
“What do you mean?” Matt said, furrowing his brow and genuinely at a loss to why Adam thought he’d upset him.
“Well, me and the other’s noticed but Bruce mentioned you just seemed...I dunno, a little off with me. I didn’t really notice until he said something about it but you were just...tetchy round me?” Adam muttered, shaking his head as though to shrug it off and forcing a small laugh out again. “I guess you were just worn out in general.”
Matt paused for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes and laughing at the irony of it all. He relished in any time spent with Adam but at the same time, even after all these years, he was still far too used to pushing people away before they got the chance to do it back. It wasn’t a secret to him that Adam did seem a fair bit more affectionate towards him than any of the others, but he figured it was just because they understood each other to an extent the others didn’t quite.
“Trust me, Adam. Of all the people I know you’d be the absolute last to ever manage to tick me off.”
And with that, just that, Matt had managed to plunge himself into the one thing he was terrified of happening.
“I’m glad,” was all Adam said, and suddenly Matt felt Adam’s hand move to gently curl around the back of his neck. In a daze, he shifted to catch Adam’s eye who was shyly gazing at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was a question, he knew that, one that he had to answer and one he was absolutely terrified of addressing.
But the complete flood of affection he felt for the other hit him like a tidal wave, alongside the bitter memories of lost love over the years due to his shame and fright. It seemed to smother him and before he knew it, he’d shifted, cocking his head towards Adam. It was fleeting, and subtle, but he was too terrified to do anything more, but it didn’t matter, Adam was leaning in, quick and almost desperate, like he’d been waiting far too long or that he was scared of Matt running away, and honestly it was a completely justified fear.
Matt clutched onto the front of Adam’s shirt like a lifeline, falling into the sheer feeling of Adam’s lips on his own. Adam was always so warm and Matt felt like he was always cold. He found he couldn’t pry himself away from Adam, even for a second. He’d denied himself affection and connecting with another for so long this felt like heaven. With Adam’s hands cradling his face, warmth radiating from him, Matt almost forgot about his struggles. Almost forgot about the hour glass. Almost.
Everything had been going so well, but suddenly Matt was flooded with a cold, sickening feeling that settled in his stomach and left him pulling away, Adam smiling at first before the realisation kicked in.
“Matt?”
“I have to go,”
There was a moment of silence, confusion, and then Adam’s eyes were growing wide and worried as Matt pried himself away from the other, getting up on the sofa and quickly tugging his shoes on. He quickly checked his bag, not even really registering if everything was there, and he was almost at the door by the time that Adam felt his brain properly kicking into gear.
“Matt, what’s wrong? I didn’t...if you didn’t want to- you could have talked to me. Shit, I’m sorry, I just thought-”
“It’s not you. I just...I can’t. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
All Adam could really register after that was feeling cold as a breeze wound its way into the house when Matt opened the door, slamming it shut and hell bent on getting home as quickly as possible. Adam couldn’t remember a time he’d ever felt so abandoned and confused. He must have stood there for hours, contemplating where he went wrong. He was so convinced that Matt had felt the same. God, he had to.
After a while, Adam moved, running a hand through his hair and sighing, feeling like he had the weight of the world suddenly resting on his shoulders. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, knew his brain would do everything it could to keep him awake and anxious. He shuffled into the bedroom regardless after switching off the lights in the living area, laying back on the sheets and taking in a shaking breath, trying his hardest not to let his emotions get the better of him. He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something, he’d been so sure that Matt felt the same way, even the other’s had agreed that in Peake’s small ways he was showing it, even if it seemed distant. And that wasn’t even to mention the other sign.
Adam’s gaze drifted to the hour glass on his bedside table, all of the glittering, silver sand now settled in the bottom of the glass, and his heart ached horribly. He’d never been one to care too much about it, knowing it was precious but knowing he couldn’t dictate his entire life. But now...now he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Matt’s own hour glass had something to do with it all. Maybe it had already counted down.
That thought alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
IV.
Matt, for no other way to put it, was a mess. He arrived home, sunlight beginning to drift through the windows in his apartment, in an absolute panic. He’d let himself do what he’d sworn not to do again. Fall for someone who he was convinced couldn’t possibly love him back. He couldn’t even pin down why he’d let his life absolutely revolve around the counters. Some people must have broken theirs like he did, or lost them, or didn’t have the means to be given one at birth at all. So why did he worry so much about it? Some people forgot they even had them at all.
And yet here Matt was, pulling out an old shoebox from under his bed and looking at the broken remnants of his hour glass and trying to stop himself from falling into complete hysterics. What if Adam had been his soulmate? What if he’d completely ruined his chance of getting what a lot of people let their lives revolve around?
Matt didn’t know how long he’d been sat on his bedroom floor, but by the time he felt able to move the sun was bright and warm where it was hitting his leg from the window. He fished into his pocket for his phone, trying not to let his heart jolt at all the missed messages and calls from Adam, and saw that it was well into the afternoon by now, so he’d probably dozed off. He felt awful. Even more exhausted than before and the calm that Adam had brought him was now gone, leaving him empty.
He managed to will himself to take a shower, but couldn’t bring himself to eat, and instead lounged on the sofa, not even registering what was on the television, completely zoning out into his own thoughts. That was, until he heard the door, and his heart leapt into his chest. He was determined to ignore it, determined to hide away but then he heard Adam’s voice, it wasn’t the words that worried him but the tone of it. Adam sounded nothing shy of scared, and slowly Matt realised that his actions had been nothing short of an over reaction, and Adam was probably terrified he’d done something stupid.
That alone was all that drove him to open the door, or so he thought.
Adam looked utterly exhausted, and it seemed like neither of them had slept very much at all, and yet Adam still offered him a shy, if not pained smile.
“Hey,”
“Adam-”
“Please, just let me come in Matt. I couldn’t even sleep I was so worried about you.”
“It’s...it’s nothing. I just need some space.”
“Matt, if you acted like that it’s most definitely something. We need to talk. Please.”
Matt felt like he should have just shut the door, but he would be so glad he didn’t.
There was a long moment of silence between the two as Matt settled himself back on the sofa, avoiding eye contact with Adam as much as he could. Adam sat next to him, hunched forward and trying to think of what to say, how to start. He didn’t know what he could do to comfort the other, didn’t know if apologising would do anything at all. Instead, he let his thoughts drift out through him, knowing that holding anything back would be futile at this point.
“I didn’t...I was just...convinced it was you, Matt. I didn’t mean to upset you, I really didn’t.”
“It’s not your fault, Adam. It’s not.”
Adam didn’t know what to say to that. To him it was obviously his fault, obviously how forward he’d been, he just didn’t know how he could ever apologise when Matt kept insisting it wasn’t him.
“It has to be,” Adam laughed, but the sound was cold and broken. “Is it...your hourglass...it’s still counting, isn’t it?”
Matt bristled at that, and Adam could feel the tension rising in the air. Adam just felt cold and numb. Like he knew this was it. It didn’t happen often, but it was a well known fact people could have multiple soulmates in the world, whether they aligned together or not. If Adam’s had counted down and Peake’s hadn’t...it might just be that Peake had already found someone else that was just as fitting.
“That’s the problem, I don’t know.”
Adam furrowed his brows, turning to face Matt a little more.
“But...what do you mean?”
“When I was younger...I used to carry it around with me. I don’t know why but it just calmed me down, so especially at school I’d just have it with me. It was stupid. I knew it could get damaged but I just didn’t think…”
“You...broke it?”
“I didn’t. God...I don’t even know why it still bothers me but, I hate not knowing. Everyone’s so obsessed with them and I guess...that made me the same. I still have the pieces.”
Adam just let the whole thing sink in, and slowly it began to make sense with how Matt had been acting. Always drawing close but then pulling away at the last second. It was just because he was scared. Adam was willing to bet he’d fallen in love before only to have the other party do the same as what Matt had tried to do with him. He let the dust settle, if only for a moment, before he spoke again, quiet and just as scared as the other. Hoping it would make a difference but terrified Matt wouldn’t believe him.
“Mine’s counted down. It counted down a long time ago, Matt. I don’t...I know it doesn’t help but...I know it’s you.”
Matt didn’t say anything, and Adam wished his heart would stop beating so hard, making him feel like he should just leave, run away, and stop forcing this on Matt because the other looked so pained, so...broken.
“But what if mine hasn’t?” Matt said, his voice so quiet and just, completely exhausted.
“It doesn’t matter to me. There’s no point in making yourself miserable because of a damn timer. At this point I’d break mine if it made you feel better, Matt.”
Matt couldn’t help but laugh to himself, even if tears were coming to his eyes, and he ran a hand across his face as though to try and wake himself up to what was happening. He didn’t even try and pull away when Adam moved closer, pulling him into him and muttering how he didn’t care about the hourglass, how he didn’t even care if his was a false alarm, because he loved him, and so long as Matt loved him back he didn’t care. Eventually, Matt was smiling into Adam’s neck, holding him close and praying he wouldn’t leave.
V.
Adam had told him not to bother, told him it didn’t matter, but Matt still couldn’t help the curiosity.
It didn’t help that they’d been together for nearly three years at that point, their anniversary was next month, Matt just wanted to know out of nothing shy of just seeing if he'd been lucky. There were no anxious thoughts behind it, no sadness, he just thought it’d be nice to know.
He took the fragments of his hour glass to a shop that had opened up in their area, knowing there was a big chance they couldn’t repair it. It was a costly, and usually fruitless thing to do, half of the time it didn’t work, and even if one was to ask for a new hour glass, there was a chance it wouldn’t even work. They were still, inherently, special, one-off items that connected to a person on a deep level. It was often something you simply could not replicate.
Still, Matt had saved up for this, and he wanted to know.
It took what seemed like a lifetime to get the call to say it was ready to be picked up, and was warned yet again that there was a chance it would just end of as an ornamental piece, not able to even work anymore, but he didn’t mind. If anything, he could put it on a windowsill somewhere as a decoration.
He’d been pleasantly surprised.
He didn’t tell Adam about it, just waited until he noticed both of their hour glasses on their bedside table, in their home.
N DEN RUMBLEROR APPER FROM DAH SKII N SAID LET MAH PPL GO AND DRACO LEFT THRU A FLOO SHOOT V MAJESTIC LEIK N ALBOOB AND SNIPPLESNORP KISSU DAH NITE AWAY
Summary: It started with a strange, endless sky, stars engulfed by darkness, and ended on a cold and dark night without a real goodbye. Gavin never was able to fix things. That was the sad thing about his talents. They only prolonged the pain.
Warnings: General angst, semi-positive ending.
Word Count: 3,966
I.
The sky had gotten so dark as of late.
It was unusual to see fluctuations in their atmosphere, well, ones like this anyway. Stars were constantly changing, ever-moving, bursting and reigniting on what would have been a pitch black canvas anyway, and yet...
The man sighed, trying to push away the thoughts, but when chill after chill ran down his spine, leaving him cold and ever more anxious he couldn’t avoid dwelling on the matter.
Something had changed.
He didn’t know if it was a change within himself. Whether he was somehow feeling so down that the entire world around him appeared to change in disposition with him, or whether something...something else, was happening.
He gazed up to the eternal night sky, green eyes skimming over familiar constellations, and new additions to their artwork of a horizon. The sight of it suddenly made him feel very claustrophobic. He slowly sat up, instead choosing to idly stare at the greenery that surrounded him.
Leaves were falling gently, but very few made it to the ground. Instead, they seemed to almost fade away before they hit the grass, falling apart into tinier and tinier pieces until they were gone altogether.
It was the way of this world, the dead returning to the Earth before they even had a chance to hit the floor.
Just as another leaf was floating down, departing from one of the large trees lining the expanse of the field, the man lazily reached out a hand - like it was the most natural thing in the world - and without even touching the dead foliage, gestured up with a barely visible green glow, bumping the leaf on its way towards the ground as though he’d made a wave in the very air, causing it to fall apart and disappear altogether.
He sighed, suddenly very bored, and stood up from the field, making his way back home. But before he even made it a few feet, there was a distant noise, like something had been falling but not quite made it to the ground. It appeared large, but was so subtle it was almost like Gavin hadn’t heard anything it all.
But then the dark of the night sky became overwhelming, like the very stars were scared and were disappearing at a rapid rate. He watched, almost transfixed, as every constellation, every small planet, every single star seemed to become snuffed out - only to be replaced with a strike of bright, white light.
Unlike the stars, it was not comforting. Or normal.
Gavin pulled his eyes away from the sky, and began to run.
But deep down, he knew.
Ryan woke with a start.
He couldn’t pinpoint what had woken him, he’d been sleeping rather soundly; but now his eyes were pinned open, staring up at the ceiling like he was in a trance. Slowly, Ryan blinked, forcing his eyes to focus and forcing himself to think of why on Earth he was so alert when it was practically pitch black.
After a short while, Ryan rolled over onto his side, clutching a corner of the quilt under his chin and sighing, trying to will himself back to sleep. His body was practically radiating comfort and warmth, and a part of him was unspeakably sleepy. But something was tugging him away from unconsciousness, willing him to be awake.
A long time passed, but eventually that feeling won.
Ryan wasn’t an entire stranger to insomnia, but it had been many years since he’d suffered a stretch of it. Nevertheless, he remembered back to when he’d attempted to rectify it, and started shrugging off his sleepwear to fit into some casual, but warm, clothes. It wasn’t long before he was out the door and walking down dimly lit streets, not a person in sight, and the only sign of life being the occasional car door slamming blocks away.
But something still wasn’t quite right.
Ryan rubbed his own arm absent mindedly, unable to shake off his anxiety. Soon enough he was making his way through a small park, hoping there were no drunks around at this hour. Just when he thought he’d found a peaceful sanctuary to sit down and have a breather, he noticed an unusual looking man wandering around the park - as though he was utterly lost in his surroundings, unable to even find the way out of the small park.
A part of him, a rational part, wanted to turn on his heels and forget about the whole thing. But he didn’t. Ryan just carried on, like he didn’t have a choice in the matter, and soon enough he was met with the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen in his life, trying to overcome the panic that came with seeing rivulets of blood across the man’s face.
He found out that night, that the man’s name was Gavin.
Ryan had tried everything to get the strange man to a doctor, preferably the hospital with the way his head seemed to be spouting blood. Gavin insisted over and over again that he hadn’t been mugged or attacked, but Ryan seriously doubted he could have gotten those injuries just from falling over. Nevertheless, he didn’t push it. Gavin seemed to be genuinely upset and disorientated, and Ryan didn’t have the heart to force him into a stressful situation, even if he thought it might help.
It was odd, but he felt like he recognised Gavin. Like he was some distant, long-forgotten friend. He wished he could justify the feeling. But honestly, he couldn’t, and felt ridiculously naive with how trusting he was of this stranger, especially with how...quirky the man could be.
Even his clothes just screamed outsider. It wasn’t the fact that it was a fashion trend Ryan wasn’t entirely familiar with, or it was a cultural or religious thing, it was honestly like he’d never seen clothing like it before in his life. It was like Gavin was wearing an oversized...cloak? It was dark in colour, heavy, with this most intricate emerald embroidery that Ryan swore it changed in pattern over the few hours he’d known the other man. But that was absurd.
He supposed he was being dramatic over the whole thing. That is, until he noticed the next morning that Gavin’s injuries had all but disappeared.
Like he’d imagined everything the night before.
Like he’d never even met Gavin, if it wasn’t for the ball curled up under a blanket on his sofa.
Over and over, Gavin refused to go to a hospital, having evidence behind his claim of feeling fine, now. Ryan tried not to make it obvious that he was completely miffed from the younger man’s lack of injuries, and sometimes he thought Gavin knew.
He’d get a sort of...amused expression that made his eyes twinkle ever so slightly when he noticed Ryan had been staring at his forehead, determined to find at least a scratch.
But the look was almost...sad....like he was remembering something.
But Ryan didn’t think to ask. It wasn’t his place, after all.
He barely knew the man.
Did he?
“I can’t say I want to leave, but I’m more than willing to. I know this is...odd to say the least. I’m just...a little lost. I don’t know entirely where I am and I...I don’t know.” Gavin had expressed, about a week into his stay.
It was so damn strange. It was like he could read Ryan’s mind. The older man had arrived back from work - after more than his fair share of days off - tired, and almost disheartened when he came home and Gavin was sat as though waiting for him in an armchair. It wasn’t that he was sad to see the man, but it was still such an odd set of affairs he couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t even real.
Ryan had squinted, setting his jacket over an armchair in a strangely clean apartment - he figured Gavin must have been feeling a bit like a burden, hence the sudden change of conversation - and sighed a little.
“It is weird but I’d feel like a piece of shit if I just kicked you out. We should probably look into getting you home...or at least back to your state since I’m assuming you’re from no where near Austin.”
Gavin scoffed a little, and Ryan was almost mad, like the other wasn’t taking this seriously.
But he just looked so upset...
It wasn’t a prominent sadness but it was almost like an emptiness filled Gavin up whenever this conversation cropped up. And Ryan hated it, honest to heaven hated that look. Again, it was like Gavin had read his mind, and shook his head before responding.
“I don’t have a home to go back to, you could probably say, and I’m not...” He paused, as though mulling carefully over his words. “I’m not entirely familiar with any area nearby. Not for a long stretch.”
Ryan nodded, slowly, and suddenly felt very tired and worn out. He sighed.
“We’ll sort...something, I guess.”
Gavin smiled, looking nothing short of thankful, and Ryan took that as his cue to go and eat and leave Gavin in peace. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It must be hard...being so out of sorts, but he did worry this was all some elaborate scheme. Or it wasn’t even real.
“Things will make sense soon. I promise.”
“What?” Ryan asked, stopping at the doorway into the kitchen and turning around. Gavin looked a little confused.
“I just said, “Thank you.”
“Oh...” Ryan replied, slowly. “Don’t mention it.”
He didn’t notice as Gavin watched him fondly as he left.
It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that Ryan had to admit three things to himself.
First, was that Gavin wasn’t a threat. If anything, he wouldn’t harm a damn fly. As he opened up to Ryan, it became glaringly obvious that they actually fit together well. Ryan was dry and sarcastic, sometimes very dark in his humour whereas Gavin was like a ball of sunshine, very cheeky and very mischievous, but never to negative ends.
Second, was that Ryan had no intentions of kicking Gavin out any time soon. His work ensured he could comfortably support them both, and from the little he gathered, he knew that Gavin was quite literally lost on the map and he suspected that he must have some form of amnesia - a lot of daily tasks that Ryan assumed to be instinctive were lost upon Gavin. He could only imagine how difficult it would be for Gavin to support himself.
The third, and most important thing Ryan had to admit, was that there was something very, very odd about Gavin, and he positively could not explain it.
The house, no matter what, was always spotless. And by spotless, Ryan meant that not a single thing was out of place. He assumed Gavin was doing it as a form of payment, and that after his incident he must be a creature of habit. But the extent of which everything was returned to its exact position before was almost unnerving, if it wasn’t for the connotations behind it.
And still the lingering wonder of what happened to Gavin’s injuries stuck in Ryan’s mind. He was absolutely sure that Gavin had been bleeding heavily, and he just couldn’t figure out where on Earth those injuries had gone to. He’d briefly mentioned it to Gavin before, but all he’d been given in terms of a response was that it must have been really dark, and he’d mistook a shadow on his face for blood, or something to that extent.
But Ryan recalled how he was acutely aware of just how bright and deep Gavin’s green eyes had been, and he couldn’t find a way to justify Gavin’s lazy answer. That brought up another point, but Ryan definitely wasn’t close to admitting that one.
It all came to a head one day, when Ryan was in the kitchen preparing dinner and managed to all but slice his index finger open, and it just would not stop bleeding. He didn’t have anything to keep it together and was making a mess of the cupboards whilst trying to find a bandage.
Gavin must have been summoned by the swearing, because he appeared in the doorway as if by magic and was watching Ryan rush around the kitchen. The older man jumped as Gavin spoke.
“I know you’re hungry but that’s a bit of an extreme length to go to for dinner, Ryan.”
Ryan scoffed.
“Really? Cannibalism’s great.” He mumbled, wincing whenever he inadvertently knocking his finger.
Gavin, unknown to Ryan, seemed to be contemplating something while he watched, and made up his mind quickly.
“Come here, you’re going to bleed out at this rate.”
Ryan mumbled curses under his breath, and didn’t pay attention as he offered his hand to Gavin. He was about to ask how on Earth he was planning on binding it together without any form of a bandage, when he noticed a cooling sensation across his hand. Before he knew it, all form of pain was gone, and Gavin was leaving quickly, letting it sink in that Ryan’s finger had somehow magically decided to stitch back together without a trace.
He stared at his hand for the longest time, and when he noticed there wasn’t an ounce of blood anywhere in the kitchen, he was starting to doubt his sanity.
Albeit quietly, he carried on with his cooking, though he’d suddenly lost his appetite.
It was nearly three months into Gavin’s arrival before Ryan even mustered an ounce of courage to interrogate Gavin, or out himself as a nut case. Either way, Ryan needed some clarification on what had been happening over the next few months. It started as small occurrences and escalated to a point where it was glaringly obvious that Gavin had...well...abilities? That Ryan couldn’t hope to explain.
They were relaxing in front of the television when Ryan brought it up.
Gavin’s knee was nudged up against Ryan’s thigh as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with him. They were unusually comfortable around each other in a very short amount of time, but neither bothered to concentrate on it, just appreciated it all the same. Ryan waited for a bunch of advertisements to appear on-screen before saying a word.
“Hey, Gav?”
“I have a feeling I know what this is about.” Gavin mumbled, like he wasn’t even aware he was speaking.
There it was again. The knowing. It would have been unnerving from anyone else but it was almost comforting with Gavin.
“I think you saying that alone just kind of...encapsulates it.”
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, Ryan. I don’t want to it to seem like I’m making a joke out of you, y’know?”
“And you don’t make a joke out of me normally?”
Gavin smirked and shook his head, and Ryan laughed to himself.
“You know what I mean. You mean a lot to me...you’ve done a lot for me and never bothered to even question why but...you do deserve to know. And you will. But just not yet, Ryan. Not yet.”
It was an oddly solemn statement, but Ryan nodded and did as he always did - never questioning a thing.
And Gavin stayed thankful.
It took less than a year for everything to change.
Gavin had been acting off for weeks, and Ryan was working himself into a terrible state wondering why, but every time he asked Gavin simply responded saying that everything would make sense eventually. That he was fine for the time being. That Ryan didn’t have to worry so much about him.
But he did.
Ryan worried all the time, especially when he came home to find Gavin looking like he was on the verge of tears, staring out of the window like he had been for so many days whenever Ryan returned home. He wondered often if Gavin had been sat like that all day.
Ryan sighed sadly when he saw Gavin, who didn’t even bother to explain why tears were welling up in his eyes. He put his coat down on the armchair like he always did, knowing it would mysteriously reappear on the coat rack when he wasn’t looking, and headed over to Gavin.
At first, the younger man was unresponsive when Ryan tugged at his arms, pretending for it to be a playful action. Eventually, Gavin gave in and let himself be pulled upwards into Ryan’s tight embrace, running his hands up and down the other’s back comfortingly.
“I wish I could help.” Ryan mumbled. “I wish you’d tell me what was wrong.”
Gavin sniffed, willing himself not to cry. Not yet. He still had so much time left with him.
But still, he couldn’t help but yearn for more.
“You’ve already helped, Ryan. Don’t short sell yourself.” He mumbled against the other’s shoulder.
“Doesn’t feel like it.” Ryan chuckled, his laughter dying to a warm smile as Gavin pulled away, looking up at him with those bright eyes and wondering when his life turned into such a puzzle. He felt so close and yet so distant from this man and yet...and yet...
He felt his heart drop as Gavin pulled away at the last second, his eyes downcast and swallowing thickly.
Neither mentioned the incident again. And in reality, neither would get much of a chance.
Gavin had to do everything within his power that quiet night to move.
He didn’t know when they’d gotten so comfortable to sleep in the same bed, but it had happened, and right now it felt like the worst decision possible. Ryan was fast asleep next to him and all Gavin wanted to do was to roll over and watch his peaceful features. To settle back into the warmth of the sheets and to will the night to last forever.
But he couldn’t.
If he waited any longer, he’d have to witness something he never wanted to see again.
Not in any of his lifetimes.
With a gentle flick of his wrist, and a swirl of almost translucent green smoke, silence fell upon the room and Gavin was able to move without disturbing his bed-mate. He looked back one last time, sighing heavily, and left, the night just as cold as it was when he’d arrived.
His memories had returned, like they always did, and Gavin was forced to submit to what he knew would happen.
He returned to that very park, looking up at the sky and wondering like he always did whether he was right to do what he had. To sacrifice his future just for this year. But along with the bad memories, came the good.
Gavin smiled, and watched as the night sky above began to fill with thousands of familiar stars and constellations.
Ryan woke with a start.
He couldn’t pinpoint what had woken him, he’d been sleeping rather soundly; but now his eyes were pinned open, staring up at the ceiling like he was in a trance.
He felt like something was missing, but as he stared around his messy room, he couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, aside from it being a little cold, and his room felt strangely empty.
He shifted and got out of bed, staring outside as though it might give him some answers. Perhaps something had woken up up?
Alas, it was the dead of night, and nothing but the street lights and the unusually bright and starry sky outside lit up the world around him. He looked at the sky, contemplating something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. After a while, he settled back into bed, not looking forward to driving to work the next morning when he’d probably be half-asleep.
He never even knew that he’d never make it to work the next day.
His universe could be such a cruel place.
And even when other, more forgiving universes collided - its affect could only be temporary.
Gavin was laid in a field when he felt a horribly cold shiver run across his spine.
He knew then that life had carried on elsewhere, whereas his own continued to exist.
As was the way of their worlds.
Gavin never did explain to Ryan just exactly who he was.
Why strange things always appeared to happen around him. How he could heal Ryan’s small injuries with so much as a single touch. How he could revive even the most barren of house plants. How he could set back a living creatures clock and extend its life as though it was as simple as rewinding a tape.
How, centuries ago, something had happened in his home that had landed him in a different universe, how Ryan had saved him, looked after him, and in return Gavin had given Ryan his love.
How Gavin abused his magic to ensure that he could keep seeing Ryan.
Because humans were so, so fragile, and Gavin could never accept how cruel their lives were. Because he fell in love with Ryan each and every time he returned to Earth. And even if Gavin felt as though he was watching a theatre production of that year of Ryan’s life, the year before he died, he’d send himself back a thousand times and more if it meant he could see Ryan again.
Human lives were so incredibly short.
But Gavin’s love for Ryan was endless.
Neither knew, however, that the universe itself could be quite forgiving in the most dire circumstances.
And when Gavin was ready to move on, ready to grieve like he should have done all that time ago, perhaps their universes would collide again and time could continue outside of the box he had made.
Perhaps, on that sleepless night where Ryan was woken by absolutely nothing at all, he would be met not by the dim sight of his bedroom ceiling, but by a pair of bright, emerald eyes.
Summary: The humans are a dangerous thing for Mer, half human, half ocean creature who live in the ocean. Barbara thought that way too, until along came Lindsay.
Lindsay/Barbara with a side of Ryan/Gavin (and Miles/Kerry if you squint.)
Warnings: Only kissing and some joking mentions of 'biological functions'.
Word Count: 6980
- - 1 - -
Everybody knows you don't go near the boats. Barbara more than others, after Miles, a goofy, bit larger than life Mer (who she had considered one of her closest friends) had vanished soon after going near one. She had searched and searched but there was no trace of him anywhere. Just the empty cavern he used to call home and a stain that spread slowly through the water (she wishes she was stronger still, had been firmer in her reprimanding.)
So it's perfectly acceptable for her to lose her balance on the rock at the sight of a human. A shrill cry escaped her as she fell and there was a laugh and a hand that wrapped around her wrist. She blinked, still able to see through her transparent eyelid.
Then she glared, directing her gaze harshly to what appeared to be a young human in front of her. With red hair and rounded cheeks and an incredibly cheeky grin.
She hated her already.
Barbara hissed at her, clicking in her language knowing fully well that the human couldn't understand her. It didn't deter the human, who still hadn't let go of her wrist.
"Oh my gosh, I thought Kerry was kidding!" She exclaimed and Barbara glared at her with all the passionate hatred in her heart. The human continued talking and Barbara didn't listen. Simply watched the over-exaggerated facial expressions and really, really nice looking lips.
In fact, minutes must have passed until the human said, "Wait, can you even understand me?"
Barbara groaned, took in a gulp of air and said, "Unfortunately." Sure, her voice was still a little lispy from disuse and her throat burned at the mere effort but...
"Oh my gosh, that is soo cool!" The human bounced further into Barbara's space and it felt as if the hand were going to burn a hole through her wrist now. "My name is Lindsay, do you understand that?!"
"Yes." Barbara humoured the human for a little while longer. Maybe she could just... tear the human open? That did seem a little cruel though. Tear the human open slightly. Hm.
"Oooo, do you have a name? Tell me your name!" Lindsay grinned at her wildly. Barbara was surprised to see the blunt teeth. She'd thought all humans had horrifically sharp teeth, tearing into flesh and not even leaving the bones. But no, these were blunt and kind of pathetic. Not even more than one set! Barbara could take this 'Lindsay' down in a fight, never mind Miles.
Which did incline her to think now just how Miles had gone missing. He could clearly fight off the humans. That wasn't what she was thinking of at the time, however.
She was thinking of how to answer the question and her solution was to screech. She threw a few clicks in for good measure. It killed her throat but the look on the human's face caused her to double over with shrill laughs.
"That's mean." Lindsay whined, sticking out the red bottom lip. Barbara raised her eyebrows with a smirk.
"So are you." She replied in a calm tone. Lindsay only pouted more.
"Oh come on, mermaids aren't meant to be mean!" Barbara recoiled at that. She frowned at Lindsay, trying to read her expression clearer.
"We aren't mermaids." She decided to reply with. Lindsay seemed shocked.
"What?!"
"We're called Mer. Mermaid is offensive. Half of us aren't gendered anyway." Barbara explained. To her surprise, she found Lindsay seemed interested. She was hanging onto her every word.
"Oh, what is your gender?" Lindsay asked and Barbara smiled.
"Female. I'm crossed with what you call a 'Queen Angelfish.'" She tilted her head up in pride. She was proud of that, her tail was yellowish green with neon blue streaks in her fin. Her fin itself was separated into three, two curved around and the third sat between them. The colour ran to her hair as well, blonde with streaks of the same blue. After all, humans could still see blue deep underwater. Mer didn't lose their colour vision but she knew that humans did.
"In that case, I'm Lindsay. I'm a girl." The redhead waved cheerfully.
"And you're still holding my wrist." Barbara pointed out. Lindsay's eyes darted to it and widened. She let go quickly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise!" She continued to apologise and Barbara let her do so. She had never heard this many words from one human's mouth ever before. Lindsay had probably doubled it in one minute. And she was still going.
Barbara did take the opportunity to look up the sky, pinks beginning to overtake the blues. They bounced off the water's waves and Barbara found herself relaxing at the sight. Lindsay had stilled too, staring out over the waves. She repositioned herself forward. Her hand hovered by Barbara's tail as if she were scared to touch it.
"You're done?" Barbara teased and Lindsay rolled her eyes.
"I'm surprised you didn't leave." She said and Barbara could hear a slightly sad tone to it.
"I am too." She replied, and Lindsay smiled. Her eyes didn't crease up though. It looked fake and Barbara found herself scowling at it. Lindsay seemed to notice but she just shook her head. Her face seemed sorry, sad.
"It's not your fault, don't worry. I know I scared you but I hope we can maybe just, talk? You know?" Lindsay rambled but managed to catch herself, putting her hands carefully in her lap. She kept her eyes away from Barbara's face.
"We're talking." Barbara pointed out and Lindsay's smile became genuine at that. "And you are monsters. Just not as bad as I thought." Barbara looked away from her at the confession. The sun was sinking into the ocean, taking its light with it. The air around that felt electric, a soft purple light around them. Lindsay followed her look, startling suddenly.
"I should be going." she said, quickly. Barbara frowned at her. "It isn't safe for people like me to be out this late." Lindsay slid off the rock, water lapping around her ankles with the tide. She realised now that she didn't wear shoes and took a moment to examine her feet. They were weird and looked incredibly inconvenient. Small little nubs at the end and really awkwardly shaped. She unconsciously lifted her tail up.
Lindsay laughed as she stood up straight again. She took a long look at Barbara.
"You'll have to ask me more about humans next time." She said, simply.
Barbara smirked, "Next time?"
"Of course. Same time next week?" Lindsay replied just as quickly.
"Damn." was all Barbara could respond. Lindsay gave her a mocking salute.
"See you then, I guess." She nodded, and turned to walk back up the beach. She paused to pick up her shoes and sling on a bag. The extra time was enough for Barbara to make her decision.
"My name's Barbara!" She called to her. Lindsay turned around and grinned.
"Awesome!" She yelled back. She waved enthusiastically. "Good night!"
"And to you!"
- - 2 - -
Barbara continued trying to plait her hair. It wasn't easy. It was frizzy and knotted and felt awful in her hand. The natural wax that covered her skin didn't help. It felt like it would cut her fingers from how gross it was. Also, if she rubbed more of her wax off Mica might kill her. Her and Meg had spent hours going to stores because her body wouldn't replenish it before her skin deteriorated. She had paid them back, as well as for the countless soft foods for her throat. Mer simply weren't meant to work above water, especially for long periods of time. As much as Barbara loved the warmth of the sun, she had to accept it.
The warmth of the sun was great, though. It was always present in the air, a glow in her body where it hit. It helped the water drip off her and she loved curling up at the edge of rock pools and sleeping in it. In the water it was warm, sure. But not like this. This was the kind of warmth Mer only got from their mates. And Barbara hadn't had a mate for a looong time. So this was the next best thing for sure.
In the sunlight, she started to sing. Long notes, in the language of the ocean. Curled up against the rocks, tail resting in the shimmering water and no life around for miles. Well, except for when two arms suddenly wrapped around her shoulders.
She spun around, wet plait hitting the assailant in the face as she did. Her long nails were held up defensively until she took in the person.
"Sup." Lindsay said, as she raised her hands with a grin. Barbara's shoulders dropped as she glared and Lindsay simply laughed. She sat next to Barbara, placing her shoes down on the rocks beside her. Her bare feet once again dangled in the water, kicking as she looked up to the sky.
It was about mid-day and the sky was a light blue. A seagull flew across, breaking the peaceful silence as it did.
"You know, I didn't expect you to come back." Lindsay spoke first, turning to Barbara with those soft eyes.
"Why wouldn't I?" She replied. Lindsay just shrugged. She turned away again, leaning back a bit further as if she were soaking in more of the sun.
"I just didn't." Lindsay answered. Barbara didn't push the obvious lie. Lindsay wiped her face of the water that dripped down and Barbara immediately laughed. "Hey!"
"I cannot believe I hit you with that." Barbara put her hand over her face, grinning. Lindsay stuck her tongue out, then recoiled as some of the liquid dripped on her tongue. She screeched and Barbara fell back onto the rocks in laughter.
"You're awful!" Lindsay cried out. She twisted to the side, spitting and fake coughing. Barbara pat her on the back as gently as she could. "Ugh, that's gross. Your hair is gross."
"I take offence to that." Barbara said and Lindsay just rolled her eyes.
"I take offence to your face."
"My face is wonderful, I'll have you know!"
"Not as good as mine." Lindsay motioned to her and faked batting her eyelids. Barbara copied the motion. Lindsay swatted her away with a giggle and Barbara held her plait up as a threat. Lindsay squealed as she leapt back.
"God, we're idiots." Barbara sat back. It was weird. It took her so long to open up to her friends like this and yet here she was, playing with one of the creatures that had killed Miles. Laughing and grinning like there was nothing wrong. No unknown war happening beneath the surface. Was this some kind of betrayal and treason? She didn't care. She felt happy, she felt safe.
"Yeah, but we're idiots together." Lindsay pointed out and Barbara nodded. Safe.
They talked for hours. At one point Lindsay lifted Barbara up, triumphantly holding her over her head and running down the beach with her. Barbara laughed and screamed as she did, holding her arms up in triumph.
"I'm flying!"
"Yeah you are!" And they only went back once Lindsay remembered her shoes. The sand stuck to her feet and Barbara poked at it curiously to only found Lindsay laughed. In response, she poked more until they ended up rolling across the rocks in a tickling match. There was one point when Lindsay left for half an hour and came back with a strange white thing in a cup. She had two and gave Barbara one.
"It's ice cream. It helps me when I have a sore throat." She'd explained as she ate with the small spoon they had. Barbara nervously licked the spoon before taking a huge bite. When she froze up a few seconds later Lindsay almost died laughing.
Now, the sun was setting once more over the horizon, its gentle oranges and pinks bleeding into the blue. Their empty tubs were left abandoned as they lay side by side on the warm rocks. The sounds of the ocean were gentle and familiar and Barbara relaxed into the feeling.
"I need to get going." Lindsay eventually said. Barbara turned to look at her sad face and sighed.
"Yeah." She nodded.
"Next week?" Lindsay suggested. Barbara had the slightest hint of a smile after that.
"Yeah."
- - 3 - -
They met again next week. Lindsay was dressed in a wetsuit, it followed her figure finely and Barbara got joy out of her complaining every time she had to move. She would flop downwards onto the rocks (or Barbara) and then struggle to get up from the rocks (or Barbara.)
"I can't move!" Lindsay's arms were in the air. She was on her back on top of Barbara's stomach. Barbara's arms were thankfully free and she used them to wildly flail at Lindsay's sides. They were both hysterically laughing.
"You're crushing me!" Barbara exclaimed as her hands dropped above her head. She yelped as Lindsay rolled over and onto her stomach. "I will throw up on you!"
"You better not!" Lindsay cried back, slowly making her way down Barbara's tail until she could roll to her side. Barbara sat up quickly to help her back up to a sitting position. She noticed how the suit pulled at her back and unzipped the front a little. Lindsay rolled her shoulders with the freedom.
"Better?" Barbara asked and Lindsay nodded. "Why are you wearing that, anyway?"
"Oh, this leads to my idea!" Lindsay clapped her hands together. Barbara managed to keep her 'oh no' internal. She watched as Lindsay rearranged herself so she sat across from her. She had her hands in her lap and sat up straight, grinning.
"Will this idea be harmful to my health?" Barbara asked and Lindsay rolled her eyes. Her hand swatted the suggestion away.
"Of course not!" She said, then looked Barbara straight in the eyes and added, "Probably." Barbara in response pursed her lips and Lindsay took it as an opportunity to continue. "Twenty questions kinda thing. I ask you a question, you ask me one and so on." Barbara stared blankly at her.
"Couldn't I just ask you anyway?" She asked and Lindsay made an over exaggerated groan.
"That ruins the game!" She exclaimed and Barbara pointed her glare. "Oh come on it'll be fun!" Barbara continued to stare at her a little while before shrugging.
"Okay sure. Let's go." Lindsay cheered at her words.
"Right, first question." Lindsay sat tall again. "Do you ever goddamn blink?" Barbara opened her mouth, blinked and closed her mouth. Lindsay had no reaction.
"Yes." She said and Lindsay frowned.
"I never see it!" She exclaimed and Barbara suddenly remembered she didn't have transparent eyelids. Her eyelids actually stopped her seeing. It was a very unnerving thought to Barbara.
"They're transparent." She said as she gestured patiently, "Lots of Mer struggle to keep their eyes open above water and we like seeing whilst asleep. Some bigger mammals have another one that isn't." She watched Lindsay pull out a small pad and a pen, scribbling down notes in it. "Really?"
"Hey, it could be useful information." Lindsay shrugged as she continued to scribble stuff down.
Barbara waited for her to finish before she asked, "What do you eat?" Lindsay shrugged.
"Making me think back to Science class now." She joked (despite Barbara not getting it) "Humans are omnivores so a balance of meat and other stuff. Some humans don't eat meat, though. They're weird." Barbara nodded. She'd heard of the not-eating-meat thing. She was never sure if it was true or made up.
"So you're saying humans eat a lot, then?" She asked and Lindsay hummed her agreement. "Wow. Is there anything they don't eat?"
"Also a lot." Lindsay shrugged and Barbara faltered, squinting at Lindsay. "We eat what we consider edible and actually tastes decent. It's complicated."
"Right." Barbara nodded. "It's your turn to ask a question now, right?"
"Oh yeah." Lindsay sat back as she thought. "So, what's with the webbed hands?" She asked. Barbara held her hand up and Lindsay mirrored her movement. The skin on her hands did indeed rise higher than Lindsay's.
"I don't know." Barbara admitted. Lindsay frowned before she jolted back upright.
"Oh, more surface area! You can displace more water!" She exclaimed, pointing at Barbara.
"I understood none of that. But yes." She said and Lindsay sighed.
"My intelligence is wasted." She moaned. Barbara just laughed at her. She then grinned.
"How do humans... you know?" She asked, quietly.
"How do humans what?"
"Make loooove~" Barbara attempted the deepest voice she could and Lindsay burst out in high laughter. It continued as she rolled onto her side, still breathless.
"Well, when two people love each other very much-" Lindsay managed to start before Barbara reached over to playfully hit her.
"It's okay! I don't need an answer!" Barbara clarified as Lindsay continued her hysterics. It took a few minutes to calm down. Not helped by how Lindsay would look Barbara dead in the eye and then laugh again. They lost count of how many times it happened.
"You know..." Lindsay rolled over to face Barbara, with a smile that still perfectly fit her face. "How do Merm- no, Mer do the do?" Barbara tried to discern if she was serious or not. She opened her mouth but Lindsay immediately cut her off, "No, I don't wanna know. I forfeit that question." Barbara pouted with her familiar smirk.
"Damn, I was going to get really in detail." She said and Lindsay shook her head.
Over the next hours, the two learnt a lot. Barbara learnt that humans are extremely messed up. They would fight over pointless things, of course Mer are just as bad but at least their's make sense. Mostly. She learnt that humans mate often for life and have a ceremony known as marriage. Barbara had heard of it but Lindsay explained it in a bit more detail. She learnt about Lindsay's past relationships and some facts about her childhood. In turn, Lindsay learnt about Mer. She learnt about their past, different species and she filled three and a half pages of hastily scrawled notes and drawings. She found out about Barbara's friends, she found out about Miles, a shark hybrid who recently went missing. Barbara brushed it off and Lindsay let her.
"We both have one more question." Lindsay said, lying on her back. They'd moved to more open water and they both lay in it. Lindsay hair floated at the surface, tangling with Barbara's. Their hands were laced between them and the clouds slowly drifted across the sky.
"Huh." Barbara said, watching one cloud as it continued its journey. She could feel Lindsay's stare on her and turned to meet it. "You're first, then." She watched as Lindsay stared back at her, eyes holding her gaze.
"I," Lindsay stopped, shut her mouth and tried again, "How do you, well, like me?"
"What?" Barbara asked, flatly and Lindsay back away from her, lying back to avoid her stare.
"It's nothing. Seriously. Nothing at all." Lindsay deflected and Barbara sat up, rolling over and keeping herself steady over Lindsay, looking her dead in the eye. Her tail draped awkwardly to the side.
"Are you asking if I love you?" She said, firmly and Lindsay's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak but Barbara cut her off, "'Cause if so please hurry up and admit it because this position really hurts." She watched as Lindsay's expression became one of shock and then a blush spread across her cheeks.
"You certainly know how to make a girl feel loved." Lindsay finally said with the wide smile across her cheeks. Barbara returned it as she dropped on top of her. Lindsay squeaked in protest.
"Wow, you're actually pretty comfy." Barbara mused, tucking her head onto Lindsay's chest.
"We confess our undying love and now you're using me as a pillow?" She complained. Barbara hummed and Lindsay giggled as it vibrated across her chest. "True love."
"Could we just sleep out here?" Barbara asked as the sunset started to settle across the horizon. Lindsay sighed and Barbara just groaned at the answer.
"If I could I'd carry you back and put you in my bath but its cramped and you deserve better than that." Lindsay said and Barbara rolled off her. Lindsay shuffled onto her side and smiled at her. She gently took her hand and held it between them.
"Can I?" She asked, with a nod to Lindsay's lips. Lindsay nodded.
They kissed and it tasted of sea salt. It felt like the warmth of the sun. It caused both of them to grip their hands a little tighter.
In that moment, everything was perfect.
- - 4 - -
Miles was back.
The word had spread quickly amongst the community and yet Barbara had been one of the last people to hear about it. Meg had rushed in, talking quickly and it took Barbara a while to even understand what she was saying. She was grateful when Ryan followed, explaining it far more slowly for her. The three of them had then rushed to the main meeting hub of the town. Mica was waiting there for them.
"He's apparently fine, he says he doesn't remember much about what happened to him." She explained. Her long, draping fin rocking back and forth as she frowned. (Royal blue, with a purple tint. She was one of the rare bettas that lived in communities. She had a rose tail and her top mimicked it. Ryan was a Longhorn Cowfish, with a yellow tail similar to Barbara's and two horns sticking out of his head. Meg was a Coral Beauty with a smaller fin but beautiful colours that changed as the light hit her.)
"That's good news." Meg nodded, swishing her tail around. They were all doing some kind of nervous habit by now.
"He was lying." Mica said, "I could tell." Ryan frowned, being one of the closest to Miles.
"Why would he lie about something like this?" He asked and Mica shrugged. She looked over her shoulder at the crowd, who were suspiciously watching them.
"He asked for Barb'." She then said and the two turned to look at her. Ryan seemed curious whereas Meg seemed slightly more ecstatic. Barbara squinted at her.
"Are you sure?" She asked and Mica nodded.
"As can be. Come on." She waved her forward. The crowd parted for them. There was still a lot of stigma around Mer that weren't normal fish that were known as aggressive and violent. Mica used it fully to her advantage as a frequent visitor of the community. Barbara couldn't really blame her.
"You know," Mica turned to her as they approached the sunken ship, "I have a feeling you know why he lied." Barbara scowled at Mica. She stopped and cut Mica off.
"What are you suggesting?" She snapped back and Mica held her arms up whilst the fins at her elbow fanned out.
"Nothing bad. Just that you've spent a lot of time at the surface." Mica said. Barbara still glared but continued to follow her.
"I always spend time at the surface." She reminded her. Mica just smirked at her as she continued leading the way.
"Not for a whole afternoon." Was Mica's reply. From there on she said nothing - simply swimming ahead of Barbara a little further. She hissed at having been brushed off but there wasn't anything she could do about it. It wasn't like she could deny her time at the surface. She couldn't risk them finding out about Lindsay.
The ship was one of Barbara's favourite places. It had sunken long ago, an old wooden structure that jutted out from the sand. It had been partially buried when they found it. They uncovered what they saw, marvelling at the structure. It became a centre point of the town. They ducked through the worn away hole in the side, swimming up through the layers of wood. Barbara could only catch glimpses at the wooden sculptures decorating the ship that were worn and beaten by time. They held new life now - coral and seaweed overgrew the wood and blossomed with colour.
Miles waved away the Mer surrounding him as they approached. He grabbed Barbara by the arm and quickly pulled her away. She didn't say anything to focus on trying to keep up. Miles was stronger than her, naturally. He was a shark Mer. Grey skin, sharp teeth (that made him look pretty goofy, really), bigger than average gills on his sides and the customary shark fin. Despite how menacing it should be, he just looked like a nerd. This was why Barbara liked him.
Well until they reached an isolated corner and he spun her around and whispered, "Lindsay."
"What?" She blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly or not.
"Lindsay." He repeated. Barbara's face instantly became a scowl.
"How the hell do you know about her?" She said, breaking away from him and threateningly flicking her tail. He flinched and looked honestly confused.
"She- I- She talked to me." He tried to explain, running a hand through his hair nervously. Barbara continued to flick her tail up in front of her. She crossed her arms for added affect.
"Continue." She nodded and Miles froze, closed his mouth and then looked down.
"I met a guy, okay?" He said, quietly. "A guy called Kerry. We met up a lot. He showed me stuff, a lot of stuff." She noticed him smile slightly, "Dude, he showed me so much anime. Like, we spent two days straight watching the stuff. It was so awesome. Then I decided I wanted to stay with him."
"Why?" Barbara asked and Miles' eyes finally met her's. He seemed sad still, an out of place, subdued look across his face.
"I was getting there." he joked, despite how empty it seemed, "We worked together. And so we did the research and we took the chance and-" he broke off, "And it almost killed us both. He was barely able to keep himself alive but he still looked after me. He had to hide me in his apartment."
"That doesn't seem smart." Barbara mused and Miles laughed. He ran his hand through his hair, a little longer than it normally would be.
"It wasn't. It was like a comedy of errors. Kerry would do the stupidest stuff to try hiding me." Miles admitted with the reminiscent smile still on his face. "In the end, it was Lindsay who talked to me."
"About what?" Barbara snapped before she could help herself.
"She'd rather tell you herself." Miles told her, "She's waiting for you."
"At the surface?" Barbara asked. The moment Miles nodded she flicked her tail. He was faster, grabbing her wrist before she could get away completely.
"Barb'?" He said, quietly, "I'm sorry." Then he let go of her wrist. Barbara watched him as he silently swam back to the group of Mer. She watched a while more before she left.
The sun was setting as she burst through the water. It bounced off the cliffs and off Lindsay. She sat on the rocks, like a goddess. Her hair was almost aglow in the amber light; her arms reaching behind her as supports. She bathed in the glow. The jeans she wore were already dirty with sand. Her top fluttered in the ocean breeze. Barbara pulled herself onto the surface. The sand gritted into the wax and into her skin. She was sure some got stuck in her scales.
"You came." Was called. She heard the squelching footsteps and a hand reached out to take hers. Barbara took it, letting herself be pulled up and then carried.
"As soon as I could." Barbara assured her. She saw Lindsay's smile above her. She settled them both onto a rock. Barbara was still sat over her, tail draping off onto the rough surface.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.
"Tell you what?" Barbara asked back and Lindsay shook her head.
"You, you hurt yourself by coming up here. By coming to see me." She said. She watched the sun over the waves and Barbara could see the beauty in her eyes.
"I did it before you as well." Barbara objected.
"That doesn't make it any better." Lindsay said, simply. Barbara tried searching her face but it was scarily neutral, scarily even. She was meant to read Lindsay clearly.
"I'd still do it without you." Barbara then stated.
"It literally hurts you to!" Lindsay suddenly exclaimed. Barbara jumped, falling off her and onto the sand. "Miles told me. He told me about the wax. He told me about the throat. He told me about the dryness and the burns you get from the sun. Why?"
"It's boring in there." Barbara said. The ocean's calm waves lapped one another peacefully. "I love my friends but there's something different up here. A feeling you just don't get down there."
"Up here is a mess." Lindsay's voice was powerful. "Up here we argue about whether we should or should not consider each other human beings. Mer would be tested on, threatened, made extinct. You'd be killed."
"Down there," Barbara argued, "We sink ships for fun. I'm lucky to live in a Multi Mer community because some Mer attack others for the fun of it. Some Mer only acknowledge those of the same type. Believe me, we are just as bad but we can kill with no drawbacks."
"That doesn't excuse it!" Lindsay snapped back. "I don't want to be the reason you hurt yourself, okay? This can't work out. We've gone into it too fast and without looking at the consequences."
"Are you saying you don't want to see me anymore?" Barbara held her voice steady.
"If you hurt yourself then yes. I am." Lindsay said back, standing up. Barbara bit her tongue, slicing it but it was at least enough to hold back the stinging in her eyes.
"Okay." Barbara nodded and her voice cracked but she refused to show it. She held herself with shaky arms, trying to lift herself back to the ocean.
"Don't... Don't do that." Lindsay sighed, reaching down to lift her. Barbara flinched back and Lindsay seemed to freeze. "Just, let me carry you back."
"Why? My wax might rub off on you." Barbara sneered and Lindsay shook her head. She picked her up anyway. Her arms were warm around her, soft skin against her harsh rubber.
She stopped at the edge of the waves. It licked her jeans, darkening the edges and spraying the front. She knelt down, carefully placing Barbara into the water. Barbara glared up at her anyway.
"I'm sorry." Lindsay said, softly. The words were true but Barbara didn't feel it. There was just coldness. A weight in her heart that made it sink to her stomach. She felt empty.
"Don't be." Barbara hissed in response. She dragged herself away without second thought. Lindsay was left standing at the water's edge. Her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Barbara only looked back when Lindsay finally turned away.
- - 5 - -
Ryan was by her side. He was still fussing, despite Barbara insisting he looked fine. A lot had happened with Miles' return. Miles had come clean to their circle of friends and they ended up hitting it off with most of the people on the surface. It led to frequent hang-outs at the beach. Lying in the sun, bringing lights and eventually a barbecue so they could hang out during the night. Now they had candle lit tikis, various chairs and tables and buckets for collecting water. Barbara had met a lot of them, especially the one Ryan was now going to meet.
"It's just a party, you look fine." She insisted, again. Ryan looked up at her in shock.
"What if he doesn't like my outfit?" He protested and she rolled her eyes, spinning him and giving a shove towards the door.
"Oh dear." She said completely deadpan. Ryan just whined as she continued to lead him out. "I see why Meg bailed out on you." She said, and Ryan crossed his eyes with a childish frown. "Okay, have you seen Gavin? He's an idiot. Who's completely head over heels for you. You'll be fine."
"That's easy for you to say!" Ryan exclaimed, "You two have been best buddies!"
"Hence why I listen to him whining about your stupid face all night with only minimal complaint." Barbara said. Ryan still wasn't impressed and she just sighed. "We're going to be late, come on." She let go of him to flick her tail. The surface was close and her body waved and twisted to keep up with her desired speed. Ryan effortlessly kept up with her. It was honestly irritating.
She smiled at the beach as they broke the ocean waves. It was lit up already, soft amber lighting up the darkened sky. She could see everyone in groups, sat around on rocks, a few in the ocean, some sat around tables and eating or drinking. The few wheelchairs they kept were at the side, for the Mer too heavy to be picked up. She still wasn't sure how they managed to work on the sand, but they did. She'd asked Kerry and he'd only said 'duct tape'.
Gavin waved them over from the surface, running away from his group to meet them. Barbara grinned at his approach and Ryan seemed to shrink behind her.
"I thought you'd never make it!" He called as he met them at the shoreline. His hair was stuck up and wild with his sunglasses sitting pretty in it. A loose button up shirt - the top few left undone - and shorts adorned his figure. "Wow Ryan, you look top." He said as Barbara fist pumped. She shrugged at the accusing and confused looks.
"Right, carry me!" Barbara held her arms up, shutting her eyes. Instead of being carried her sides were assaulted with tickles, and she crumpled to the ground with a squeal. She opened her eyes to see Gavin towering over her, with a grin across his face.
"Come on!" He beamed and lifted her with ease. "Where do you wish to go, my highness?" Barbara took a glance over the crowds, finally landing her gaze on another of her human friends, who was getting drinks from their freezer.
"To Jon!" She exclaimed and Gavin rolled his eyes.
"Of course." He said, knowing full well Barbara's plaiting tendencies. He slowly carried her over, cradling her until they reached Jon. He was still turned away, searching for a drink that wasn't some kind of beer. She took the opportunity to screech.
He fell forwards, almost over the freezer until Barbara was able to grab him. He took a moment to recollect himself, pushing his hair back before turning around to face them.
"Damnit, Barb’.” He muttered, slowly opening his eyes and taking a deep breath. Gavin beamed at him, innocently.
"Hi Jon, she's your problem now. I have a date." Barbara was transferred from Gavin's arms to Jon's without a moment's wait. She smirked up at Jon as Gavin bounced back to Ryan, to probably end up kissing and being gay somewhere.
"Sup." She waved and Jon just sighed.
"So I'm babysitting you tonight?" He asked.
"I cannot believe you think so little of me." Barbara fake gasped, "After I beat you in Smite too!"
"That was one time!" Jon reminded her as he walked over to one of the tables. He sat Barbara back into the chair and then sat across from her. He paused, groaning. "I didn't get a drink."
"Am I that distracting?" Barbara asked with a sly smile. Jon shook his head quickly, getting up to grab another drink. He returned quicker and slid one over to Barbara across the table. They both settled down to drink, Barbara resting her tail up on the table. Her fin draped over the chair next to her.
"We need to meet up another night to play games." He said and Barbara nodded quickly. "I've got a load I want to show you."
"Hey, if you help me with my fishing business then..." She suggested with a knowing smile. Jon batted her leaning figure back.
"I am not touching any bloody fish, thank you." He said and Barbara huffed.
"You'll at least help me run a crafts shop?" She asked, more serious this time and Jon nodded.
"Yeah, I've already started on the page and getting some of the photos taken. I'll have to show you the ideas I've had at some time." He said. Barbara listened. She honestly liked listening to Jon. He made things sound interesting and he'd often read human novels to her on the beach. Or poems. Otherwise they made fun of 'mermaid' movies and how inaccurate they were.
"I'm free for pretty much all week, if you have time to pop down." She said and Jon nodded.
"Yeah, I can do that." He agreed. There was a small buzz as he took his phone out from his pocket, "Friday?"
"Yeah, I'll be up around midday so if you want to bring food for yourself then I would." She said.
"You mean food for you?" He replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Well..." Barbara shrugged and flicked her eyes away from him. He had that stupid affectionate smile as he shook his head.
"Do you mind if I bring someone over? I think you'd like them." He asked, putting his phone back away. Barbara looked back at him and tilted her head before shrugging.
"Sure." She said and Jon grinned at her.
"Awesome, I'll be right back." He took off again across the beach. Barbara took the opportunity to get comfortable again. She sat further back in the chair and rest her head back on her arms. The stars shone above her, glittering in the dark sky. She was glad she could see it now, feeling safe and at home with others. The sound of chatter still drifted around her. It felt like a strange, messed up family.
Jon strode back over, his voice audible over the noise. She glanced forward to see who he was with and froze. Red hair, straighter than before and now gradiented into a lighter orange. She wore a loose beanie, hands in the pockets of her jeans as her and Jon chatted. She met her eyes and stopped.
"Jon, I-" She started. Jon winked at her, raising his hands.
"Sort out your problems." He said, and walked away. Lindsay watched him. Then she looked back to Barbara. Then she took a breath and sat down.
"Hey." Barbara offered, and Lindsay stared at her a little while longer.
"Hey." She replied. There was a gap and she gulped. Then she met Barbara's soft stare and said, "I'm sorry."
"Why?" Barbara asked back, tilting her head. She’d moved now, from her laid back position to sit up straight. She watched Lindsay twirl her hand as she thought.
"I guess, I spoke too fast. I freaked out and then I never tried to fix it. So, I'm sorry." She finally said and Barbara smiled.
"That's okay." She told her and Lindsay blinked, startled.
"You'd just forgive me, like that?" She asked and Barbara laughed.
"Nah, you have to grovel first. But you can't do that if you don't talk to me." Barbara said and Lindsay smiled at that. She nodded in agreement.
"That seems fair." She replied. Barbara thumbsed up. Lindsay seemed to consider her choices again, before adding, "I'm willing to try again, as well. Maybe slower but... It's a start."
"In that case," Barbara reached over and took her hand, "I'm willing to try again too."
And they smiled.
- - +1 - -
"You're going to be late!" Gavin exclaimed, patting down Barbara's hair. Mica had done the braiding in it, and Meg had made sure her dress was perfect. The day was going perfectly, besides the fact they were a whole minute late. Barbara wasn't too worried.
"Just wheel me out then!" She exclaimed, batting at him and Gavin suddenly remembered that was something he was meant to do.
"Right, come on!" He lifted up his arm, grabbing her and wheeling her out of the small cave. There was already a small crowd, their wooden and plastic chairs arranged into a ceremony on opposite sides. The Mer sat on one side, humans on the other. Barbara caught sight of Lindsay, dressed in a dress similar to hers. Her hair pinned back into a bun, a braid running through it and a small tiara on her head. Barbara openly grinned at her as Gavin waved. They met in the middle.
"Alright, this is not an official service so you get to deal with me." Miles clapped his hands, sat between the two. "You guys promise to love each other until death and whatever, right?" He asked and Lindsay reached over to whack him.
"At least do the repeating bit!" Barbara protested. Miles groaned but sat up slightly straighter.
"Right, Lindsay repeat after me." He turned to her, "I promise to love Barb' despite all her fishy bits and the weird ways she mates and-"
"Miles you stop right there. I take it back." Barbara interrupted. There was laughter from most of the people sat around and both girls smiled bigger than they thought possible.
"So picky!" He moaned, then he turned serious "Lindsay, do you take Barbara to be your fish bride?"
"I do."
"And Barbara, do you take Lindsay as your human bride?"
"I do."
Miles clapped, "Right, the audience doesn't get to object because you're all pricks. So kiss!" Lindsay picked Barbara up out of her chair, leaning her backwards over her knee as their lips met. Barbara laughed and when Lindsay pulled away her face looked as if it would split if she smiled any wider. Then, Lindsay pulled her in tight, tucking her head onto her shoulder.
"To the future, right?" She asked. Barbara nodded.
Summary: Brandon just wants to go stargazing, so he goes out and stares at the night sky... but is soon interrupted when a cute stranger falls into his lap.
WC: 2,191
Mel
I chose this one because there’s not a lot of fics out there that reference to queer-platonic situations or relationships, or even sensual attraction, which are all things which need more coverage, in my opinion.
Michael/Gavin +Michael/Lindsay +Gavin/Meg
Upgrade by GameOverGlitch
Summary: "Gavin huffed. "I don't want to date you or shag you, I just wanted to keep going as we're going and add kissing."
WC: 1,258 - WIP
Panda ★
Ray/Joel
Fortified by BloopsieDaisy
AO3
Summary: Ray knew this was going to be a thing when he moved in together with his. It would happen a bunch when they were over at his place. It would still surprise him anyway when it would happen.
WC: 388
Ray/Joel + Michael/Lindsay
Of Double Dates and First Impressions by ThatGirlEmma
Summary: "I would ask how you guys met, but since you’re all he talks about, I’ve got that covered.” Ray winced as Michael kicked him in the shin.
Summary: "I know someone's there." Gavin's eyes widened, and he straightened his back, mouth opening instinctively but no noise escaping.
Word Count: 3,316.
Triggers: N/A.
Genre: Ghost!Gavin. Slight angst.
It got boring, after a while.
For those old of age, or with relatives awaiting on the other side, it would have been a final bit of peace from the trials and tests of life. But for him - he'd been so young, and there wasn't anyone he'd been close to waiting for him. For the first few years, he'd been happy to simply watch over the rest of his living relatives.
He watched them grieve, watched them attempt to get on with their lives, and eventually, watched as smiles began to adorn their faces once again.
But then it got so dull.
Everyone was relatively happy, and he had nothing to watch over anymore, and so he couldn't help but wander out of the domain of his old house, and instead watched the world carry on around him - like he hadn't even left at all.
But then a feeling started to overcome him, a restless, almost familiar feeling, and the agitation of being 'gone' to the world took over. He began to move things around the house. Small things at first, keys, phones - anything that could be deemed as easily misplaced. But soon he grew bored, moving cups, plates of food, cushions - anything to capture someone's attention. He only stopped when his family began to seem distressed, in which he ventured outside and carried on watching the world from a different realm once again.
When he noticed someone moving into a previously empty house just a street away, he began to feel that prickle of irritation once again, itching to speak and be heard, to touch and to provoke - but he'd stopped talking long ago, once he realised the pleas to his family were never heard.
He hovered across the street, watching as the older man unloaded box after box from his car - finding himself unusually drawn to him. The restless feeling was bubbling up inside of him, and he simply could not place it. It was only when the man turned around and seemed to stare straight at him that the feeling was replaced with an odd, panicked surge in the pit of his stomach.
For a moment, they were both still, and if Gavin hadn't known better he could have sworn that the man had seen him - but soon enough the other slowly turned away, back to unloading his car.
He didn't return until a week later, just as the man was sitting down to breakfast.
Even though the laws of human etiquette, and the laws of the living world didn't apply to Gavin anymore, he couldn't help but feel intrusive, but something was drawing him to this newcomers home. Gavin didn't even do anything but watch while he ate, wishing he could still feel the pangs of hunger in his stomach.
But then something strange happened.
The man's eyebrows furrowed slightly, as though concerned, and he looked up from his meal into the doorway where Gavin was hovering.
It was like he could see him.
But rather than acknowledge him, the man cleared his throat slightly, and quietly - as though feeling stupid to do such a thing - called out.
"Is...someone there?" He asked slowly, and Gavin swore he could feel his no longer beating heart pound against his chest, panic rising up in an incredible wave. Gavin opened his mouth as though to reply, but closed it again slowly, a wave of sadness and longing overcoming him.
When there was no reply, Ryan went back to his meal, looking a tad more uncomfortable than before, and seeing so - Gavin left, but not for long.
He still checked in on his family, wanting to know each day that they were well, and if anything had changed. It was the same old routine - the grief was still evident, and it would never leave, but it had almost become a comfortable part of his family's lives. Though he felt guilty, it felt nice that they still remembered him, still felt pain for him - and Gavin would pledge to tell them that when they finally passed over. Hoping beyond anything it was of old age, rather than his own violent ascend.
The guilt Gavin had felt, watching over a complete stranger, led him to stay away for a fortnight or more, and he stayed at home, watching lazily over his family. It wasn't until there was a knock at his old home's door that the feeling shifted.
It was the man.
It was a brief visit, in which the man simply asked if they knew any furniture outlets in the area, but Gavin did find out something interesting - and that was the man's name. He was called Ryan.
When Ryan had gone to leave, Gavin had followed, keeping a good way back despite his invisible form. But it was so odd...it was like Ryan knew. He kept looking behind him - right at Gavin - before shrugging the feeling off and continuing his pace. And Gavin was so, so curious. He'd gone almost ten years with people walking straight through him, never hearing his anguished cries, and never even looking in his direction. And yet Ryan seemed to manage to look him directly in the eyes every time, like he could sense he was there but not quite see.
After a short walk, Ryan rounded off to walk inside his home where Gavin followed suit, ignoring the door slamming through his body. He stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, finding himself almost enjoying the new company. Almost. He missed being able to speak. He hadn't uttered a word after the first year of his passing. There was simply no point. But now the urge was rising up - just to try it again. He ignored it, for the most part.
Ryan was lounging on the sofa when Gavin got the shock of his afterlife.
The man had looked near enough to falling asleep whilst Gavin sat on the floor near the doorway, watching idly. But as though something had spooked him, his eyes opened wide, and his face grew concerned. He looked to the doorway and back, and seemed to argue with himself internally. He sighed, running a hand across his face and mumbling something Gavin didn't catch.
And just as he did earlier on that week, he cleared his throat, and called out again.
"I know someone's there."
Gavin's eyes widened, and he straightened his back, mouth opening instinctively but no noise escaping.
"I know it's probably...unlikely you can, ugh, manifest-" He sounded almost uncomfortable, speaking the way he did, as though he knew what he was doing but felt ridiculous all the same, a sceptic to his own skill. "But, if you could make a noise or anything, that'd be great. I just want to know I'm not cracking up. This hasn't happened in years."
For a moment, Gavin stalled like a rabbit trapped in the headlights, but in a sudden rush of energy he stood up, looking around the room for something to move or to knock. He opted for a side table, just next to Ryan, and used all his energy to tap against it, four times.
Ryan jumped, and looked into the direction of the noise, and let out an uneasy laugh.
"Well, now I know, at least."
Gavin was beyond overjoyed. He could hardly contain his smile, knowing that he was being heard - that he was communicating. He waited, anticipating Ryan's voice, but it never came. Instead, unusually leisurely, Ryan simply nodded, turning off the television and heading upstairs to bed. Gavin stood at the bottom, watching as Ryan went, his joy turning to indescribable sadness.
The next morning, however, managed to lift his spirits.
In an attempt to gain Ryan's attention, he decided to act as though he was in the room like any normal person. Whilst Ryan sat down to breakfast, Gavin did the same, struggling to gain purchase on the dining room chair but pulling it out all the same, and sitting on it. Ryan looked up and raised an eyebrow, still seeming hesitant.
There was a long silence, Ryan seemingly ignoring Gavin's presence, and Gavin found himself getting irrationally mad. After a while, he decided to act, pushing one of the spoons settled down on the table from the night before. Ryan paused for a moment, before scoffing lightly.
"I'm not ignoring you, this is just...weird. People are gunna think I'm crazy. They did last time, at least."
Gavin nudged the spoon again.
Ryan pulled a face, thinking about something, before straightening up and leaning back on his chair.
"Well, let's try this, then at least I'll know if I'm crazy or not. Are you a girl? One knock yes, two knocks no."
Gavin tapped twice, and Ryan's eyebrows raised.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, I guess."
Gavin, out of a mix of joy and amusement, laughed for the first time since he had manifested as a spirit, and Ryan jumped.
"Why are you laughing? This is so fucking weird..." Ryan stood up from his chair, suddenly feeling threatened, and Gavin opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words. Ryan was about to leave the kitchen when he spoke out.
"You can hear me?"
Gavin's voice was croaky and quiet, a mixture of his voice being unused, a mixture of his spirit not quite being strong enough.
"Yeah, and it's fucking creepy..." Ryan blurted out, heading into the living room and praying he was dreaming. He'd known that he had an apparent...sixth sense, so to speak, but the nearest he got to communicating were noises and moving objects, not downright having a conversation. He could feel the hairs on his body prickling.
"Why? How can you-" Gavin simply couldn't form a coherent sentence. He felt like crying. Partly out of relief, partly because Ryan seemed to be disturbed by him. He wanted company more than anything, and this was his chance - probably the only one he would ever get.
"I don't know." Ryan answered distractedly, trying to ignore the voice but feeling obliged to reply all the same. It was far too surreal. "Fuck..."
Gavin didn't speak for a long time, simply watched with wide eyes, getting the horrible sense that this was too good to be true, and that his joy would end abruptly. Ryan's leg was jittering up and down, trying to distract himself but feeling - he could feel the other person in the room.
"Please...I'm not...I'm not trying to scare you or anything. I just can't believe you can hear me..."
"You and me both, apparently." Ryan mumbled, feeling ridiculous and worried that he was talking to a seemingly empty room.
"Why can you hear me and not them?"
"Them?"
"My family."
Ryan's eyes suddenly saddened, and he pushed aside his slowly ebbing shock and anxiety, remembering the few times this had happened before, remembering that this had once been a person, someone who had been loved.
"I don't know, just, some people can sense you, you know? Some can't."
Gavin's heart sunk at that. So they never would hear him...never would see him again.
Almost as though feeling the sadness himself, Ryan sighed slowly.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
They didn't speak another word to each other that day. Ryan acted as though he'd never even heard Gavin at all, but regardless - Gavin stayed around. It felt almost peaceful, simply knowing that if he spoke out, Ryan would hear. With that alone he'd made a connection to the man, and over the coming months, it would grow.
Gavin went from spending most of his time at home watching over his family to following Ryan around the house. At first, he'd been given the cold shoulder, and more often than not Ryan gave the distinct impression he didn't want Gavin there at all.
But Ryan had appeared to warm up to him.
Gavin began moving things around so Ryan couldn't find them, or conveniently finding things for him, depending on whether Ryan appeared to be in the mood for a joke. Eventually the awkwardness between them ebbed away, the older man seemingly getting used to his company and the concept of having an otherworldly being in his home.
He shouldn't have been surprised. He'd always been susceptible to it, just never this strongly before.
But it was strange how neither started to notice the changes in Gavin's form.
As time went on, Gavin's voice grew louder. Less like a breeze, but almost his normal self - as though he had come back to the mortal world. His grip on the grounded things around him grew stronger. He could pull a chair out from under the table as easily as anyone, and on more than one occasion when nudging something to get Ryan's attention, he ended up knocking it off the table or counter completely.
But when Gavin started to truly manifest, it was hard to miss.
Ryan had noticed that whenever Gavin was around, the room around them grew strangely cold to the point where his breath came out in rivulets of condensation. He didn't dwell on it too much, but merely assumed Gavin was taking his energy from the warmth around them, feeding off of it, almost, so he could speak louder and clearer.
"I swear you literally suck the heat out of every room you're in." Ryan said, shivering.
Gavin chuckled. "I can't bloody help it."
"Jesus." Ryan snapped as a violent shiver ran through him, grabbing a coat from over one of the dining room chairs. He was about to sit down when he stopped dead in his tracks, staring right at Gavin.
"What's wrong? It's not that cold, right?"
Ryan was looking straight into a pair of glazed over, translucent eyes. He was stunned. Positively flawed, and couldn't even speak even as Gavin was panicking, asking him what was wrong. He looked the other up and down, feeling just as he had when Gavin spoke. Both amazed, and frightened.
"I can see you."
Gavin scoffed, and Ryan watched the other's lips quirk into a confused smile.
"What are you talking about."
Ryan shook his head, as though clearing his mine, and looked back to Gavin's pale and smoke-like form, squinting his eyes slightly.
"I can see you." He repeated, stepping forward slightly.
Gavin's reflex to move away from solid objects was long gone, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because as Ryan slowly reached forward, his hand went straight through Gavin's shoulder. It was only then that Gavin looked down, and saw himself, truly, not just a point of view with no body - but now a reincarnation of what had once been his soul.
And Gavin laughed, so heartily and so excited that Ryan almost told him to be quiet for the neighbour's sake, but soon began to laugh with him - pushing aside every single thought that had been niggling away at him for months. How truly odd this all way, how it couldn't be real, that he might be going insane.
Because someone who had grown to be his friend was finally standing in front of him, as though he'd never been gone from this world at all.
And if Ryan would've had someone to tell about the whole ordeal, he would have described it simply as though he had acquired a roommate. Gavin's presence, that at first had been disconcerting, was now a comfort more than anything. Ryan hadn't met many people after moving into his new home, and being able to come home to Gavin - who understandably craved attention after ten years of simply watching people behind an otherworldly barrier - felt wonderful.
And somehow, over that coming year, their friendship grew deeper than they'd ever imagined.
Ryan opened up to Gavin about everything, knowing it would be spoken to no one else, and in return Gavin revealed everything from his old, short life, to how he had died.
Ryan had always wondered about the strange, birth-mark type pattern across the left side of his forehead, like a white tattoo. Apparently Gavin had been walking home drunk one night, and was involved in a hit and run. It only took Ryan once to ask, and that was the only time it was brought up again, though he couldn't help looking at the mark now again, as though Gavin's skin was broken glass.
It made Ryan wonder, however, what it was going to be like when he passed over.
He thought about death and passing over a lot more than he cared to admit, and Gavin's presence made it all the more tangible to mull over. He stayed awake many a night, watch absently as the sun set and left him in pitch darkness, before it rose again, smothering him in twilight tones as his mind ran over the wonders and fears that Gavin's spirit brought with him.
They were close, and Ryan was beginning to cherish him more than anything in his life, but that wasn't without consequences.
Just as Gavin had longed to speak, then longed to be heard, they were both beginning to crave more than what their separated forms could give. There was no warmth between them, and in some ways their company felt artificial and cold - robotic in a way, as though Gavin could express sentiments but his physicality and his mentality couldn't commit to the actual things that left his mouth.
It was another sleepless night, with Ryan's mind leaving him wide awake in the darkness of his room, that the barrier became ever more evident. He didn't hear, near see, Gavin lay down next to him, but rather felt the cold as his pale form fed off the heat of Ryan's own body.
The older glanced to his side, seeing that Gavin was on his stomach and staring at him intently. He'd been wondering for a while what was wrong - even if deep down he knew - but he still wished Ryan would articulate it to him. But the problem was, he simply couldn't begin to describe it.
Ryan averted his gaze back to the ceiling, sighing deeply, feeling horrible pangs of pure, raw feeling in his chest and wishing they'd subside.
He was growing very fond of Gavin, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the barrier that still separated the regardless of Gavin's ability to feed off Earth's natural energy in order to manifest himself to the eye and ears.
Ryan jumped as a condensed section of cool air settled across the top of his hand, and he looked at Gavin, who appeared to be avoiding his gaze at all costs, instead staring down at his own ghostly hand settled gently across Ryan's - not really touching, or feeling, but the manipulation of temperature was enough to give the impression. It was a gesture at best.
And Ryan smiled.
It got boring, after a while.
For those young, or with relatives beside them every day of the year, it would have been a devastating blow for not only for them, but for their family. But for him - he'd been so fed up, and there wasn't anyone he'd been close to beside him, at least in some physical form. For the last few years, he'd been happy to simply spend his days with the ghostly visage of a man he'd grown to love.
He watched them laugh, watched them attempt to accept their form, and eventually, watched as his smile began to fade out of longing.
But then Ryan faded away in a pristine, white hospital bed, smiling as the light died in his vision.
And the next time he saw Gavin, he finally got to see the bright green hue of his eyes, and feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
