Billie

Every time I looked at the ring in my mom’s jewelry box I always wondered what it’s story was. Where did it come from? Who did it belong to? She never wore it but she also never got rid of it. For some reason I always plucked it out of it’s velvet bedding and put it on my finger. At the time it was too loose and slid off of my ten-year-old fingers but I still did it anyways. The gold band had a charm to it; rounded corners and waves that always reminded me of the coast where my whole family grew up. But the center of attention was the red ruby held in the middle with four gold prongs. It wasn’t big by any means but it still baffled me how the small prongs were holding it in place. It wasn’t until three years later when I would get the answers to my questions. 

I was sitting in my bedroom probably watching something or other on Netflix. My mom came in holding the little golden ring I was still infatuated with. The red ruby glinted in the light of my yellow bulb. 

"I want to give you this, but before I can, you should know where it came from.” She handed me the ring and I held it softer than I had ever done before. Suddenly it felt precious and delicate. “It was given to me by your great grandmother; Nana.” Suddenly I felt a little sad. At the time my mom was taking care of Nana as well as working her other job. Uncle Rob was paying her a little amount to keep Nana fed and happy. “I was only fourteen when she gave it to me. I was pregnant with your sister at the time but I didn’t know it. It was the day of Poppy's funeral and I asked her why she was giving it to me. She said it was a reminder for how I should be treated by a man.” I hummed. Papa James was a good man; worked hard and long for my great grandmother and their seven kids. “At the time I was with your sister’s dad. I broke up with him because of this ring and now you’re going to use it as a reminder as well.” 

That night I laid in bed twisting the ring around my finger. It fit better than it had three years ago but I still had some growing to do. I started thinking about my great grandparents; James and Theresa. Nana’s name was a testament to who she was; faithful, giving, and innocent. She didn’t believe someone could be a bad person - she held her faith until the end. Thinking of them reminded me of a picture I saw. It was black and white but the clarity was impressive. My Nana laid her head on my Papa’s lap in a field I recognized as their land. Both of their backs were turned but I just knew they were smiling; content with everything they had done. I wondered how he had given the ring to her. 

I imagined a scene straight from a movie. The house was probably filled with sounds of babies and the radio. I could smell the moose pie in the oven and the turnips boiling on the stove. I imagined it being summer; the season of her birthday. Papa James would’ve come home late that day; he was a fisherman by trade and spent early morning until late night on the boat. However, he would’ve surprised her and come home early holding a ring box in his hand. Nana would smile wide and run to Papa’s arms. I could imagine her voice exactly as it was then; light in a way that made it seem as if she should be singing hymns instead. 

“Why did you bring home a ring? We’re already married - or have you forgotten?” A sly smile would come on her face, the same one that she had when she poked fun at my sister for having a middle school crush. Papa would laugh and hand her the box. “Oh my, James. What is this for?” She would’ve slid the ring on her finger with excitement. 

“For your birthday - or have you forgotten?” I imagined them laughing together, perfectly content in that moment. 

2024 was the year Nana passed after fighting a long, hard battle with dementia. The day before her funeral we visited her home for the first time in a long time. It was hard visiting her while she was sick - it was the first time I was there since I was young. Her house held the scent that reminded me of Christmas time. I remember when I was a kid I used to find the smell unpleasant and overbearing. However, this time it was comforting and brought me peace. Even all these years later I still can’t place it. Nothing else is like it. 

We went to her bedroom where my great aunts were going through her clothes and looking for photos. Just the night before a priest had been in this room holding her hand as she passed comforted with faith. The room was something from the 1950s - the wall paper, the clutter, the bibles, even the mirrors. Looking up I noticed a small porcelain doll. It wasn’t any bigger than my palm but it had a frilly pink dress and beautiful blond hair. In ways it reminded me of her; delicate and innocent. That moment was when it hit me; she was gone. I’m not one to cry a lot, especially at serious things. I don’t know why and I probably won’t ever, but in that moment reality hit me. 

The next day was the first time I stepped foot in a church in at least two years. It was different than the one I grew up attending; bigger, more extravagant. On some level it intimidated me; all the people in the pews, the large stained glass windows, even the priest who was a large man waiting to make his walk towards the altar. On another level, it was comforting. It reminded me of Sundays growing up when I put up a fuss putting on nice clothes and getting ready to act proper. I hated church as a kid. I don’t know if it was the anxiety from bringing up the gifts or if it was the restlessness I would always be left with listening to the priest’s thick accent. Looking back at it, it gave me a sense of nostalgia. My friends were there as well as the sweet old ladies; sister this and sister that. I wish I could remember their names and faces. 

We sat in a back room for a while with many relatives; most I knew but a couple were unknown to me. I knew my great aunts and their kids but there were a few older relatives that people seemed to be relieved that could show up. There were no tears, no sadness, because we were able to see each other once again. It was easy to see the resemblance; the thick, long, black native hair, the high cheekbones, the close-set eyes. The native blood ran thick in the older relatives who had the strongest features. A lot of my younger cousins resembled my nan herself; hints of Irish in their hair and skin tone. 

We walked from the room when told to. The first thing we had to do was line up in sets of two and walk side by side through the aisle and into the first pews. I didn’t recognize anyone in the pews but I knew who they were nonetheless. They weren’t friends or distant family, they were neighbours. Not by geographical location, but by heart. Everyone loved Nana Theresa as she was the one who fed you when you were hungry, the one who sheltered you when you were lost, and the one who clothed you when you were cold. 

Sitting in the pew and listening to the priest talk was long. I tried paying attention to the things he was saying but I felt as if I was young again and was restlessly waiting to bounce up and prance out the doors. I don’t remember much of the actual service because of that. But I do remember the ring sitting on my finger. 

I twisted it around to try and relieve some of the anxiousness I was feeling. It fit on my finger well by this point and I never took it off. It was late summer so when I moved the ring from its usual spot a lighter, untanned part of my skin was revealed. The gold reflected the overhead lights of the church. I felt that if I looked a little closer I would be able to spot myself in the reflection. The ruby was just as magnificent as if it was the first time I saw it. It could be a scary looking thing; blood red as if it was an abyss, leading on forever and forever. But some parts allowed the light to shine through and reveal its real candy-red colour. Despite its intimidating appearance, much like the church, it was also comforting. 

The moment little ass kicker came into the world she was screaming and fighting. Her face red, gummy mouth wide, and fists clenched tight as if she would punch the first person she saw. Carl hadn't thought anything of her when she sucked in her first breath. He dotted over Lori while Maggie held the baby close. It was his mom; he had to do it.

Y/N wasn't there, thank God. Carl wasn't sure how he would deal with Y/N watching him kill his own mother. It was bad enough that they knew he did it, let alone watching him do it.

However, Y/N was there to take the baby from Carl's arms and into their own. She was small, too small. Despite them giving Lori more food than the rest, Y/N had a feeling it was pretty much impossible to keep the both of them fed properly.

Y/N was also there when they named her. Judith; old fashioned but comforting in a time where it's needed. The name made sense, Judith was the place most would head to when times got rough. Y/N especially took to the baby, often caring for her when everyone else was busy. Even though Beth tried to help out, Y/N would push her away and reassure her that they knew what they were doing.

And they did. The only person who knew about Y/N's family was Carl. They didn't open up to Carl about it until he asked; it was confusing how someone his age was already so good with babies. Y/N told him of their younger siblings. A sister and a baby brother, both of which Y/N helped take care of when their sick mother struggled to. They were only young when they changed their first diaper and made their first bottle of formula. It broke Carl's heart when they told him what inevitably happened to the young kids in the apocalypse.

Because of this, when Rick was off, succumbing to his own delusions, Y/N was the one flapping around the baby like a little hen. Carl helped as much as he could but he could never figure out why she was crying. Y/N, however, spoke the language of babies and knew instantly what she needed. Carl asked them how one time. He knew Y/N had siblings they cared for, but they seemed to have a parents sense that was only gained from deep experience.

"It's easy if you spend all day with her. You can see her face scrunch differently when she's hungry. And when she's sleepy she'll rub her eyes." Carl felt a little guilty that Y/N had spent enough time with her to notice the signs. He felt bad for not being closer to his own baby sister. So from that moment he decided he'll spend more time with the two.

The next day he was up and walking to Y/N's cell early. He knew Judith woke earlier than anyone and wanted to see if he could offer any help to Y/N. After all, he wouldn't want to be dealing with a fussy baby all by himself in the morning.

Judith sat in Y/N's arms as they leaned back against the cold wall. A bottle was stuck between her lips as she sucked and sucked. Judith always drank as if she was being starved. Sometimes when formula was low, Judith had to take it easy on the bottles and it ended up with a very upset baby for the day. No one could blame her; she was so small and unknowing of the horrible world around her. Y/N had already made it a promise to themselves to find her a home safe from the walking dead.

"Hey, you need any help?" Y/N was startled as they hadn't seen Carl come in. They jumped and baby Judith grunted. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. It's just-" they sighed, "Judith kept me up all night. She refused to go to sleep." Only then did Carl notice the dark rings around Y/N's eyes.

"Why didn't you ask me for help? Or Beth, or my dad? We can help, you don't need to take care of her all on your own." Carl moved closer and laid his hand on top of Y/N's head, combing the hair between his fingers. Y/N leaned into it, closing their eyes.

"Rick is still off his rocker, and I'm going to be honest; you and Beth aren't that great with babies." Sure Beth was gentle and soothing, but she wasn't fully equipped to handle a baby.

"I know I'm not that great with babies, but I can still help. She is my sister, after all."

"Okay, grab a diaper and a pack of wipes. She needs to be changed." By the time he had gotten the supplies, Judith had finished her bottle and was squirming uncomfortably in Y/N's arms.

Eventually, the diaper was changed and Judith was given a stuffed animal to play with. Carl went between playing with Judith and staring at Y/N. He couldn't help but admire them. It wasn't just their appearance that had drawn him in (although that was pretty nice), it was everything about them. They were selfless, kind, and had a beautiful connection with Judith. Y/N was always worrying about others before themselves, so Carl knew he was going to be the one to worry about them.

On their next run out of the prison, consisting of just Glenn and Daryl, Carl had asked for a few things. He noticed how Y/N's socks had holes, and how they only had a thin blanket for the cold nights. And most of all he noticed how Y/N had no hobbies or anything for entertainment. Despite their lack of electricity, some coloring pages or a puzzle could keep one entertained for a while.

After giving them a list of things for Y/N, he went back to their cell. Y/N and Judith sat on the bed asleep. Judith's face was pressed into Y/N's chest and her hands gripped their shirt tightly. In this moment Carl wished he had a camera, one of the polaroid ones that would print a little picture for him to carry around in his back pocket.

He carefully shifted them closer to the wall and slipped into the bed next to them. He wrapped his arm around Y/N's shoulders and held them close. Their relationship was complicated. They never expressed wanting to date or even be together in any way. However, cuddles and pecks were always present whenever they were alone. No words were spoken as they did these things because none needed to be said.

Y/N slowly opened their eyes, looking at Carl sleepily. Their foreheads met as they looked into one another's eyes. After a while, Y/N shut their eyes and leaned their head on Carl's shoulder.

"Hey." Y/N's voice was quiet and raspy, showing the sleep that had yet to ware off. "what are you doing here?" Carl took a deep breath of their hair.

"Glenn and Daryl left for the run. I had nothing else to do so I came to visit you and Judith." Y/N opened their eyes and nuzzled their nose into Carl's cheek. It was a habit they picked up a few weeks ago, it started when they had to be quiet as they slept close to walkers. It was a silent way for them to ask for a kiss. So Carl obliged, turning his head and pressing his lips to Y/N's. It was soft and perfect, like all their kisses were. They breathed each other in, not wanting to separate.

Their kissing stopped when they heard noises coming from Judith. Y/N quickly looked and prayed that she wasn't waking up; she got very grumpy if her nap was cut short. Thankfully, her eyes remained shut but she was more awake than she was before. Y/N could tell because she started lightly playing with his shirt, moving the fabric in between her small fingers. The action was reminiscent of the way she soothed herself to sleep with her stuffed rabbit. She played with their shirt in the same way she played with the rabbit's ears.

Y/N couldn't help but coo at the noises she made while she sucked away at her pacifier. Judith had a tendency to sigh and awe when she was content, which she was, asleep on Y/N's chest. She wasn't old enough to begin babbling yet, only being born a few weeks ago. However, the scrunched face she made when she was mad combined with her little noises, made it seem as if she was ready to burst out full sentences at any moment.

Judith made a noise again, this time one of struggling. She grunted as she tried to move herself closer to Y/N but failed because she hasn't yet learned to control her own body. Y/N helped her out, switching her from their chest to their arms as if they were feeding her a bottle. Judith accepted the new position and fell back into a deep sleep.

Before either of them realized it, tears were falling down Y/N's face. They couldn't help it as their body was wracked with sobs. Y/N tried to stop it as they didn't want to wake the sleeping baby. But the sobs were too harsh, shaking their whole body. Carl leaned over instantly to take Judith from their arms. He carefully placed the sleeping girl in her pack n' play and returned to Y/N.

"It's okay, come here." Y/N allowed themselves to be brought into Carl's lap and to snuggle into his chest. They breathed him in again, not knowing when this could end. Y/N was a mess of emotions; they missed their siblings and mom. The young kids, barely making it to toddlerhood, were gone. They were terrorized by dreams of their dead, reanimated bodies jerking and crawling on the floor. How could something so innocent be brought to this? They could still smell the flesh, the rotten, innocent flesh of babies.

Y/N hated it. They hated the memories, they hated the flashbacks, the nightmares, and most of all they hated how Judith was a reminder. She was a reminder of what they couldn't do; protect the babies. If they had only been there an hour earlier, if only they ran faster, if only... if only they did anything.

"I hate it, Carl. I can't stand it anymore." Sobs had turned to sniffles by the time they spoke. The tears were no longer falling as they had dried up. "Their faces haunt me." Carl shushed them and kissed their forehead.

"I know. It'll never leave you, the smell, the sight, the sounds. But we can push through. We will not die like this. We'll die when we're good and ready; all old and wrinkly."

Y/N tearily smiled at his words. Carl wasn't the best at comforting people but he knew just what to say when it came to Y/N.

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Words: 1875

The slow pace of the camel is sending Santiago mad. He needs it to pick up its speed and run straight for the pyramids. But the road's path is long, harsh, and full of thieves. He must be patient. The village they are crawling towards is a small, homely place of families. It is a common pitstop for travelers like him and the rest of his band as it saves them from the unwavering heat of the day and the bone chilling cold of the night. The heat is why he wears the scarf around his head and the long fabric around his body. But still he can feel the rays of sun beating down on his face, warming the tanned skin and forming a red, sore, hue. It is midday now, the sun is at its peak and there is no shade for miles to save them. Slowly, another camel strides next to him, an old man sits upon its back. His eyes are squinted against the sun with his bushy, white brows blocking the yards of sand from them. Just like his own, the poor creature is saddled with bags. But Santiago knows they are strong, he had seen one defending itself from a jackal not two days ago. The old man also wears a scarf around his head, but his is a green that matches his tanned skin. Eventually, the man speaks.                                                                                            

“The heat is unbearable, and the cold leaves nowhere to escape. This place wants no man to walk its sands and yet here we are.” He glances at the young man and smiles. “Why are you here from where you are coming, traveler?” The old man could tell he isn’t from the desert.

“I wish to see the Pyramids.” He knows it’s barely a reason, something so small that it was ridiculous that he would come all this way. He’s used to the confused looks people give him when he tells them. But the old man merely smiles and looks forward. 

“That’s all? The Pyramids are something to behold. They are grand and powerful but you may find the trouble wasn’t worth it.” Santiago tells him. 

“I’m from Spain. I worked as a shepherd for my father sense I was young. It took me to places around the world, yes, but not the places I wanted to be.” He takes a moment to sigh. “So I sold my sheep and used the money to travel here. I had an omen, one that you remind me of. An old man who claims to be a king, he sent me here to follow my dreams. And here I am.” He felt himself reminiscing on the memory. It only happened a month ago and yet it feels like he is looking through another man's eyes, watching another man’s memories. 

“I hope this omen serves you well. You must have interesting stories of your travels, coming all the way from Spain. Tell them to me as we ride, the heat makes my head clouded and I need a way to stay awake.” So Santiago settled into his camel and began to tell his story.

When Santiago first stepped into the sandy land of Egypt he felt his spirits rise. Despite the blistering heat on his skin and sand in his eyes, he stood proud as he felt one step closer to his dream. The Bazaar stood in front of him with many merchants and shoppers all trying to bargain. His Spanish clothes wouldn’t cut the desert environment, so his first stop was a clothing merchant. The woman sold scarves and long tunics, some colourful and some the colour of the sand between his toes. He paid her well for a red scarf and a brown tunic; she told him they were called a kaffiyeh and a galabia. He wrapped the scarf around his neck and continued on his way. 

While browsing other merchant’s tables, Santiago heard a call. The man calling to him was standing a little outside of the market. He was dressed as all the other Egyptian men but he held a strap of a camel's headstall. He spoke in Arabic, but Santiago only spoke a few words. He approached the man and replied in Spanish. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Arabic.” The man’s eyes lit up and he smiled. 

“Don’t worry, brother. I speak little Spanish but enough.” His words were broken and hard to understand under his accent, but the sentiment was understood by Santiago. “Why are you in Egypt, my friend?” He told the unknown man of his dreams. “The road to the pyramids is tough and long. Won’t you need a camel? I have one here, it will suit you well.” He hadn’t thought about that; he was too excited to actually see the pyramids that he didn’t think about how he would get there. 

He took out his bag of coins and got ready to pay. He didn’t know how much a camel would cost, but he didn’t think it was his entire coin bag. 

“That’s a lot for a camel. I don’t think I will need one, I will catch a ride with a caravan.” The smile on the man's face dropped, and his hand went to his pocket, pulling out a jagged knife. The man took his money and anything else of value, which wasn’t much as he sold most of his belongings to get to Egypt. The man left with his money but not the camel. 

By the time he finished his story, the old man was looking unfazed, it wasn’t his first time hearing such a tale. Their camels continue at their slow, rhythmic pace. The village was now visible and closer than ever, Santiago only thought of laying down out of the heat. 

“I’ve heard tales like yours many times. People come to Egypt for wonder and adventure, but they don’t realize people here are starving as well. They need food on the table, they get that however they can from foreigners who don’t know better.” They didn’t speak for a while until they came upon the entry of the village. 

“I will see you again, friend. Thank you for keeping an old man awake on a long journey.” Santiago nodded his head in reply and said goodbye. 

The village is small but comfortable, as is his shelter for that night. The journey from their last stop took all day, now the heat from the red sun flew away and the cold from the grey moon surrounded the air. He falls into a rough sleep; his mind races until his eyes shut closed and he has dreams of terrible things. 

He first dreams of thirst, terrible, unquenchable thirst. He dreams that an oasis is only feet away from him but his tired body drags itself across the sand and can move no longer. Secondly he dreams of a group of men all armed with knives and some with swords. They yell in a jumble of muffled Arabic which he cannot understand. And lastly, Santiago dreams of never getting to the pyramids, of dying a short journey away; so close but so far. 

He wakes early, the sun hasn’t yet risen but he knows he needs to go. He has a feeling so deep in his stomach. If he does not leave now he will never see the pyramids, and he will never return home. So he moves quickly, shoving food and water into a bag which was given kindly by the village. He leaves his tent and finds his camel close by. He jumps on its back and they start moving by themselves; no other travelers. 

It’s dangerous to travel alone, that he knew. But something spoke to him that night. He knew it was his omen; the old man. The camel’s feet sunk over and over into the hot sand. They traveled far from the village and Santiago felt the chill turn to heat over the past few hours. His camel moved more slowly than before. It is tired as is he from the heat. His water is already low; he was never good at rationing. He still has food, but he knew better than to eat it. It will feel like plaster mixing with his saliva, gluing his tongue to the top of his mouth. The food will not help anyways, water is the only thing that can make him last. 

Two hours after midday; the worst of the heat is behind him but its effects weigh heavy on his shoulders. His head hangs low and his eyes shut. He had already taken the keffiyeh from his head and put it around his hands that were rubbed raw from the camel’s leads. His water is gone, his food fed to his camel. The poor thing has eaten it as if it was his last meal. It probably was. He has to make a decision now, he is still close enough to the village to last the journey back for more supplies. Does he go back or continue? He can’t wait. Santiago didn’t wish to sustain himself any longer. He needed his lasting energy to get him to the pyramid and he could fall asleep, never to wake again. 

Once the chill of the night has set in, Santiago is in and out of consciousness. His body has gone past the need for shivering as he lays motionless to the cold air. He has nothing to shield himself from the cold with. He’s left open and exposed to the moon’s misty stare. His eyes are open, but they are lined with sand. With every blink he can feel the sand shift under his eyelids and drag across the expanse of his eyeball. His breathing is ragged, almost unnoticeable under his clothing. With each expansion of his lungs, his ribs cry in pain. But despite his condition, the camel went on. Its steps are wide, covering as much distance in each spurt of energy as it can. 

The sky turned pitch dark and the air turned below freezing. Santiago shut his eyes and allowed the camel to continue. 

Without his knowing, the camel stopped with the weight of hunger, thirst, and Santiago. Before falling to its knees and succumbing to the night, the camel tipped Santiago off and into the sand. Its eyes shut and the both of them lay under the blanket of stars and on the bed of sand.  

Santiago is awake before he opens his eyes. At first he believes they were glued shut, then he remembers the day before. The sand rings his eyes, crusting over the lids and he has to use all of his energy to pry them open. The sun is beginning to rise, casting an orange glow on the sands. The thirst is unimaginable, he needs water. He suddenly remembers his dreams; thirst, hunger, and failure. They had all come true. With the weight of his dreams crushing him, he stands. 

Pulling himself to his feet took 30 minutes. The pain plagued his body as it protested. “lay down and be done with it,” his muscles whispered to him. Something fueled him, something he has never known before. Once he is up, he sways with lost balance. The camel lays next to him. It had never opened its eyes again. Santiago looks around. All around was sand, sand, sand. Nothing but sand. What could he do? Was there anything to do? The questions blurs his mind and his eyes. Nothing feels real; not the sand between his toes, not the faint wind blowing in his hair, and not the heat touching his exposed face. He has failed. 

Before long he is on his knees, just as the camel is, losing all the hard work of standing just moments ago. The heat waves blurs around his eyes, blinding him to what lay before him. All he can do is wallow in his pity. His father was right; he was born a shepherd, he should have stayed a shepherd. In this moment he wished for the touch of the sheep; of soft wool and a barnyard stink that came with them. It is almost funny how when he was with the sheep, he wished to be in the desert, and now that he’s in the desert, he wishes to be with the sheep. 

Suddenly he lifts his head. He hears a noise that is human. It’s not the noises he heard earlier of hyenas laughing or of tumbleweeds skipping in the sands. It’s voices. The heat waves blur his eyes. Is that real, what is in front of him? His eyes strain, needing to know if what he is seeing is a mirage or not. It can’t be real, he is seeing things that aren’t there. He is tempted to turn to the right, expecting to see a pink leopard rolling around like a house cat and playing with a ball of yarn. He needs to see another hallucination, to confirm it’s not real. Nothing is there. 

He can’t stop himself, he needs to know if it is real. He needs to touch it. He uses his arms to drag his body across the grains of sand. He leaves a trail behind him as if someone is dragging a dead body to bury it. He might be a dead body soon enough. He doesn't allow the thought to linger. All that matters is the sight in front of him. His hands slip across the sand as the small pieces slip between his fingers, not allowing him a good grip. 

As he comes closer his speed picks up, his legs start working. A rush of energy flashes through him as if someone connected two wires in a circuit. He grunts and groans as his body protests the movements but his mind keeps him going. 

He comes closer. It is real. It is real, he is sure of it now. As his hand touches the rough, grainy surface a spark runs from his fingertips, through his arm, and into his heart. He has done it. He didn’t fail, he has made it to the pyramids. His head falls, touching the ground and his hands reach in front of him as if he is bowing to the large structure. 

The tears fall fast, pouring from his eyes like the current of a river. The sand soaks them up, appreciating the wetness opposed to the dry heat. No sobs come from his mouth, the tears are silent under the stare of the three pyramids. He sits in front of the smallest; the Pharaoh Menkaure, son and grandson to the larger pyramids of Djoser and Khafre. Even the smallest, towers over his head, casting a long shadow to the left of him. 

As his tears continue to fall, a hand is placed on his shoulder. It is heavy and fatherly as it belongs to an old man. Santiago looks up from his weeping, surprised at who stands above him. 

Firstly, your requests may or may not sit for a while before I get to them. Unfortunately, despite how much I would like to, I can't spend all day on my laptop lol. But don't worry, as long as you're kind and follow my rules then I will definitely respond!

Secondly, I want to make it known that I struggle with maladaptive daydreaming. Unlike how some people show it online, it is something that is not fun and can lead to me having some issues. The only reason I mention it is because it affects my writing. I will only write about characters that my daydreaming has specifically targeted at that time. Sometimes characters will come back, other times they won't. So basically, you can ask for requests but I may not do them if I don't feel connected to the character at the time.

Thirdly, like most people who write fanfics, these are mostly self-indulgent so you will see a lot of the same elements come up. But don't be scared to ask for something different! I will always respond respectfully and will never be mad unless it is something that goes directly against my rules. However, one element that does come up will never change because of the self-indulgent aspect of my writing. As I mention in my rules, I won't write smut but it can be implied. I don't want to say the reader will be 'submissive' or 'passive' as it makes me feel icky but I will say the reader will always be implied to be the bottom when smutty things do come up.

With that out of the way, here are my rules: (the ones outlined in red are things I wont do, the ones in green are things that I would like you to include in your request)

No real people. I will not, under any circumstance, write a fanfic about a real person. This is out of respect for them.

I only write male!reader/GN!reader and only for GN or male characters. This is because of unresolved gender issues and or maladaptive issues; I don't feel like explaining further lol.

Only pick from characters that I have done previously or have stated that I would be open to writing about them. This is just because I haven't opened myself to many fandoms/there are some characters that I just don't feel connected to.

I don't do specific readers. Idk if that makes sense because I don't actually know what these are called. Basically, don't request yourself to be put in a fic. You can request a reader with specific traits I.e. shy, specific race, fashion style, etc. but not a specific outline of yourself that the reader will be. My fics will always be vague enough for anyone to read (except for the ones specified as male readers in the sense that you will always be referred to as he/him.)

I don't write smut. I'm okay with doing implied smut but nothing specific or too heated. I just don't feel comfortable sharing that part of myself on the internet lol.

My cut off for implied smut if 16 years old. like I said, I can imply smut and things like that but I will not do that for characters any younger than 16 years old. Younger than 16 will only be hand holding and kissing.

I don't write fandom ships. This includes things like Drarry and Pernico. This is because it reminds me of my Wattpad days and I'd like to not go back to that lol.

Please specify weather our request is a fic, headcanon, etc. I'd like to know what you're looking for because if I'm strapped for time I may do headcanon requests first. I also just want to make you happy with what you're looking for!

Give enough detail so I don't miss anything you want in the writing. You can give detailed requests or non detailed; I like both! But make sure you include everything you want! You must Include: is it GN or Male reader? The prompt, what type (rule 8), any specific details about the reader, and what character you want. With characters that age, you will also need to include what age they are at this time.

Characters I will write for:

Harry potter: Draco Malfoy, Harry potter, Fred and George Weasley (separately), Cedric Diggory, and pretty much any male character (not including Dumbledor or anything lol) so if you request one I most likely will do it. *Like I said in my rules; if the request is more than just hand-holding/kissing, the characters need to be 16 or older.

Lord of the rings: Legolas, Haldir, Aragorn, and Frodo.

Percy Jackson: make sure all requests for this are age appropriate. Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, MAYBE Nico Di Angelo depending on the request.

Random Characters: These are characters from fandoms I like but I only write for one character. Carl Grimes (The Walking Dead), Sam Monroe (Life as a House), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Miles Fairchild (The Turning)

Alexandria was safe. Y/N and Carl had never felt so safe since the prison and even then they could never be sure if they were truly safe. When they first entered the walls of Alexandria they were all suspicious. It was too good to be true; running water, electricity, and free mansions. After a few weeks they settled in. Things began to change little by little; people slept more, ate more, and therefore became happier. However, one thing never changed.

Y/N and Carl were always stuck at the hip. How could they separate when they've been together since everything started? When they were separated from everyone else they always ended up the only ones together. From the first camp outside Atlanta, to the farm, to the prison, now Alexandria, and everything in between.

It was well known information within the group that where you would find Carl, you would find Y/N. When they were hunkered down in the camp outside of Atlanta, their parents had to stop them from sleeping in the same tent just to keep them from giggling and whispering instead of actually sleeping. And when Carl was shot, Y/N was beside himself with fear. At first he cried and cried until there were no tears left. Then he held Carl's hand until the boy opened his eyes and reassured him that he was alive.

Nothing changed when they got their homes in Alexandria. After Y/N's parents died, it was a silent agreement that Y/N was a part of Carl, Rick, and Judith's little family. No words needed to be spoken when the two boys placed their bags of dirty, too big or small clothes in the same room. And no words were spoken about the fact that there was only one bed. No one even said anything when hand holding turned to kisses on foreheads, and then into quick pecks on the lips.

So, yes, everyone was well aware that Carl and Y/N were together, and that they had no intention of breaking up. Well, almost everyone knew or just didn't care.

When Jessie Anderson came to Rick and told him that Ron was excited to meet Carl and Y/N, they were both nervous. It was going to be their first time hanging out with other kids their age in a long time. Sure they had friends in the prison, but that all ended fairly quickly. For all they knew, Alexandria was permanent. They had all the supplies to keep people in and walls to keep walkers out.

Y/N was nervous around Ron when they first met, Carl was too. They weren't afraid of him; Y/N was sure either of them would be able to take him down if he tried anything. Ron just felt like a real teenager, one that you would've met in high school and would wonder if he was laughing at you behind your back. He felt like a popular kid thrown into an apocalypse. Y/N found the thought funny; popular kids, jocks, nerds, loners, in an apocalypse. How could they still form cliques when the world had ended?

He supposed he would've been a nerd. Even before the outbreak when he was only 10 or 11 years old he was always reading things like adventures, mysteries, or just stupid comedies. In his heart he felt like Carl would also be a nerd, but maybe a different type. He would play video games and be awkward around peers, he would read too, but only comics.

Then he met Enid and Mikey. He couldn't get a read on Mikey, the boy was kind of just there. But Enid, he could read. She acted like a loner; cold, few words, and just plain bitchy at times. He knew she was trying to put up an act of indifference; maybe trying to put herself out of the spotlight. What she didn't understand was that her actions made the spotlight bright up her entire being. But Y/N had a feeling that something wasn't right in her 'lonerness.' he couldn't place it but also didn't read much into it, after all she was also from the outside. He understood how she felt thrown into this happy-go-lucky town.

He didn't think much of her attitude until he looked at Carl. He was staring at Enid, not even trying to be inconspicuous. A spark of jealousy flared up inside Y/N's chest. It started burning bright with red and yellow flames. He didn't know why the flame of jealousy was ignited so quickly or why it burned so hot. Suddenly, Ron was speaking again.

"We can play video games. Or Mikey's dad has a pool table but he's a little strict about it."

Ron's question broke him from the jealousy filled stare he was sending to Enid. Y/N didn't care about what they did, as long as he stayed by Carl and wasn't expected to talk much. Carl was then looking away from Enid and seemed nervous trying to take it all in. Before Carl said anything he looked to Y/N who leaned just a little bit closer to his side.

"It's okay if you don't really want to do anything. You don't even need to talk. Hell, it took Enid three weeks to even say anything." Then suddenly that flare of jealousy returned as Carl's attention was brought to Enid once again.

"Let's play video games." Carl, thankfully, answered for both of them. Y/N didn't know if the influx of emotions would allow him to speak at all.

A controller was handed to Y/N but he gave it back, saying he would be fine just watching. It was the truth as after seeing the way Carl was looking at Enid, he didn't feel like doing much of anything. He didn't know how to feel, it was all so weird. Before that moment Y/N had never even considered the possibility of Carl leaving him for someone else. It was always just them and adults, no other teens. He didn't even want to start thinking about the fact that Enid was the first teenage girl (besides Beth) that they had seen. What if Carl had only dated him because there were no girls around?

He tried to think rationally as Carl, Ron, and Mikey smashed the buttons on their controllers. The look wasn't romantic; he knew what Carl looked like when he loved something. It was the look he got when he found a fully intact comic book, or a can of his favourite food after starving for 2 days. Or the look he gave Y/N when he would wake up snuggled into Carl's side.

No, it wasn't romantic but it was still a look of interest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Carl wouldn't leave him, not if it was the last thing he did. Carl loved him, he told him himself the night before. Everything would be alright. Without opening his eyes he leaned his head on Carl's shoulder and scooched a little closer. His thoughts were made up when Carl kissed his hair and continued playing his game, all while Enid looked at them from the bed.

The day after hanging out with Carl, Ron, Mikey, and Enid, was a little strange. First, Carl was asked to make a run. Y/N had no idea why they would do this as the people of Alexandria seemed to be hell-bent on keeping the kids safe. He hated when Carl went on runs because not only was he already worrying about Rick, he was now worrying about Carl. They were his family, and Judith's too. However, being from the outside, it was nothing new to the boys so Y/N sucked it up and didn't complain. After a hug, kiss, and promises of being safe, Carl was off with Rick and the others.

Second, once he watched the car drive off, Y/N went to go back to his shared room with Carl. His plans were interrupted by Carol.

"You're not wasting your day away in bed." Y/N was surprised when Carol even started talking to him. He didn't think that anyone besides Carl or Rick cared about what he did.

"I'm not, I'm enjoying my day in bed." He could hear the sass slip into his voice, but Carol just smiled.

"You can't just leave the house with Carl, you know. You need to find independence." Y/N rolled his eyes but turned back out the door anyways.

"What do you know?" He mumbled quietly to himself. Carol heard but only smiled; satisfied that he listened.

In the moment, he was annoyed. His boyfriend was gone and there was a pretty big chance that he wasn't coming back; it was too easy to be overrun by walkers. On top of that, it had been forever since he had his own bed. He felt as if he should be able to enjoy it for as long as he could; not every safe haven has lasted them. But looking back, he was glad. If he had stayed in bed his thoughts would have run with so many things he would have ended up crying himself hysterical.

He found himself wandering around Alexandria, looking at the gardens and kids playing in the streets. Eventually looking at the garden and the kids got boring and he started kicking a rock, watching as it skidded across the pavement almost like skipping a stone in water. The noise was satisfying; a pitter-patter of stone against stone. Before the dead-eating-men fiasco, Y/N would have found this boring. His mind was molded for video games, cartoons, and short, extreme bursts of serotonin. After the fiasco, life could be as simple as skipping a rock. To get those moments of happiness you have to work for it. You have to keep each other alive by working all day and rejoicing in the night with stomachs a quarter full (if you're lucky) and limbs unbitten.

The third weird thing that happened was a few hours after he wandered from the house. He had ended up not doing much; he climbed a tree for the hell of it, ate an apple from that same tree, and nearly fell asleep under the tree. Maybe he should have just stayed in bed, the almost-sleep would have been better. But then again he wouldn't have gotten that apple. And it was probably good for him to get some sunlight after being cooped up for the past few weeks. Y/N started to get antsy as Carl and the others should have been back at any second. He was nervous and excited; nervous to see if Carl and Rick came back, and excited to see them if they did.

He tried not to bother himself with 'ifs' as it didn't help. There was no point in saying 'if Carl came back' because he would; Carl promised. Y/N knew it was a childish way of thinking; in this world promises couldn't be kept just because they were said. You can promise to not get bitten by a walker, doesn't mean the walker cares before it chomps down on your flesh. It was because it came from Carl that Y/N disregarded rational thinking. Maybe he was love sick, maybe he was stupid.

It was the same 'ifs' that brought Ron to him, starting the strange interaction.

"Hi." Y/N looked up at him from under the tree, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Hey..." He was confused why Ron was talking to him. And then he was even more confused when he took a seat next to him.

"If the world never ended, what would you be doing right now?" Y/N was weirded out by the question. Why did it matter? He was 11 when it started, and it never ended. So here they were. There was no point of the 'if,' it just is what it is and now they have to deal with it. And that's what he told Ron.

"What does it matter? The world ended, there's no going back."

"I know, but I just wanted to get to know you a little better. You're not much of a talker, are you?" He smiled at him before his face turned to something Y/N couldn't place, almost like he came to a realization. "It's not because of Carl, is it? The reason you don't talk much?" Y/N was taken aback by the question. Did Ron really think Carl was abusing him or something?

"No, not at all. You don't even know us, how could you say that?" Ron could tell by the look on Y/N's face that he was appalled by what he asked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. But just so you know, I'm here if you need to talk." And suddenly his hand was placed on Y/N's leg, scarily high above his knee. Y/N let Ron's hand fall when he stood up, uncomfortable with the situation. Ron stood too and they stared at each other for a moment.

Y/N couldn't react before an arm was wrapped around his shoulders and he was pulled into a hug. Being on the outside had given him reflexes for walkers, he was thankfully able to stop himself from reaching for his knife when he smelt the grime and sweat of his boyfriend.

"Carl-" He was only given time to breathe out his name before said boy's lips were on his. Y/N's arms came to wrap around Carl's torso while their lips stayed entwined. By the time Carl pulled away Y/N was flushed and gasping for air. It was by far the longest kiss Carl had ever given him in front of another person. Speaking of the other person, Ron was already gone when Y/N pulled himself from Carl's jealousy fueled embrace.

"What was that for!" Y/N was on the verge of giggles as the flush was replaced with a blush. He felt butterflies that he had missed so bad flutter around his stomach. The kiss made him feel as though they had just kissed for the first time ever. Those butterflies were an old friend of his from his early days crushing on Carl.

"I Don't know." He looked embarrassed and flushed under his sheriffs hat. "I'm sorry, I got jealous seeing Ron's hand on your leg." Y/N pulled Carl back into a hug, content in knowing that it wasn't just him that was getting jealous.

"It's okay. To be honest, yesterday I was feeling green about the way you were looking at Enid. I feel so stupid. I knew that you wouldn't do that to me but I couldn't help it." Another kiss was pressed against his hair.

"Yeah, I know you wouldn't do that to me either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N wanted to be mad at Carl. He knew he should be after everything that he did just this morning. But despite how hard he tried, he knew that Carl was just as nervous and shaken up from the prison as he was. They needed to stick together. But Carl wasn't understanding that. First, he walked faster and faster as Rick dragged behind, not caring because he was too mad at him to care. At that moment Y/N was stuck between Rick and Carl; physically and mentally. He awkwardly staggered between the two, not knowing if he should wait for Rick and have to look at his beaten down appearance, or if he should keep up with Carl and have to deal with his pissy attitude. But he also didn't know what to do about the tension between them all. He kept flipping sides as he understood how both of the Grimes boys were feeling. Carl was upset about losing everything; the prison, the people there, and before that his mom. On top of it all he was obviously struggling seeing his father go from a leader to whatever he was now. Rick, on the other hand, was just trying to do the best he could; just because he was an adult didn't mean he knew all the right answers.

The second time carl wouldn't understand sticking together was the morning after. That night, after Rick had fallen asleep, Y/N laid on his mattress staring at the ceiling. Nothing felt real, he couldn't believe that they had lost the prison, and now he finally had time to think and mourn. His peace, his security was lost. They had no stable food or water, and nowhere safe to sleep. Before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks and sobs were falling from his lips. He covered his mouth with his hand, desperately trying to cover his crying.

But Carl noticed. At first he tried to ignore Y/N's sobs but eventually he found it was impossible. He couldn't bear listening to Y/N cry. He quietly slipped from his own mattress and laid behind the other boy, slipping one arm under his head and the other around his waist to spoon him. Y/N pulled him closer and tighter, making sure they were completely cuddled together. It was a little awkward as they both kept their shoes on, knowing they could be up and running from the house at any moment.

Y/N had thought that night they had made up; reformed their connection that was destroyed with the prison. But he found that he was wrong when he woke up the next morning alone and dazed. He slept so long that he was confused when he woke up. His dreams filled his mind with false illusions of the prison and safety. After a moment of confusion, he sat up and noticed that the house was still; scarily still. He walked all around the house, calling for Carl.

The longer he looked, a pit of panic and anxiety filled his empty stomach. Once he was everywhere in the house and still hadn't found Carl, Y/N could feel his heart drop. How could he be this stupid? To go out on his own was a death sentence.

Suddenly Y/N heard a noise from downstairs. It was small, barely there, but it was. He had to push his anger and worry for Carl aside, if that wasn't him walking into the house, both Y/N and Rick would soon be dead. He controlled his breathing and grabbed a bat leaning against the bedroom wall. Slowly, he crept down the stairs which made it impossible to be sneaky as they creaked and moaned at every step.

He turned to the living room, making sure Rick was still passed out and in the same shape as before. Once he knew that Rick was okay (or at least how he left him), he turned to the kitchen where a noise was coming from. Y/N's heart was beating in his chest, no matter how many times he ended up in these situations he was always terrified. Right when he thought his heart would beat itself from the thin skin of his chest, he caught sight of who was in the kitchen.

"Carl, you asshole! You scared me." He sat on the lone chair to allow his heart beat to slow.

"Sorry." Carl mumbled so Y/N could barely hear him.

"Where were you? I woke up and you were gone." Apparently Carl could hear the longing, almost needy, tone in his voice. With one look at Y/N, Carl knew that he was upset.

"I Killed two walkers that were at the door." Y/N felt a flurry of emotions flare in himself. Fear, anger, exasperation.

"Why didn't you wake me up? You know it's dangerous going out there on your own. I could've helped." Y/N couldn't help the pang of annoyance when Carl seemed agitated by the question. Why couldn't he see that all Y/N was doing was looking out for him?

"No you wouldn't have helped." He was startled by how sharp Carl sounded. "All you would've done was slow me down. I need you somewhere safe so I don't need to worry about you."

"You don't need to worry about me, I can handle myself." Y/N scoffed at Carl and stood up to leave.

"I know you can, Y/N. But that won't make me stop worrying. Don't you understand?" His words were softer now; more vulnerable. There was a moment of silence before Y/N turned around.

"Come on." Carl started to protest as Y/N walked towards the door.

"Where are you going? You're not leaving, Y/N." The other boy ignored him and left the house, Carl following closely. "Stay close, you don't have a gun" He said that as if Y/N wasn't going to anyway, gun or no gun.

Y/N had been teased about it back at the prison by Lizzie. Everyone knew about the way he would follow Carl around, helping him do his chores and random things during his free time. Eventually he stopped, the teasing making him self conscious about being too clingy to him. Carl had come to him a few days after. Y/N was in his cell reading a book when normally he would have been doing whatever Carl was. Without Carl, Y/N didn't have much else to do so he stayed curled up on his cot.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not."

"I miss you."

And that was the end of that. They never spoke about it again and Y/N never avoided Carl again. Although he was capable of taking care of himself, Y/N still felt safer brushing his shoulder against the other boy's. Soon enough they fell back into the groove of closeness they had since the beginning; leaning into one another and slipping their arms together.

Neither acknowledged the safety loop they created with their arms. The only evidence that they noticed it was happening was the way Carl would pull Y/N close to himself when the boy got spooked.

It was calm outside, but they still had to stay alert. Every once and a while, Y/N would jump at a noise and quickly try and cover it up. He didn't want Carl thinking he was useless. After the third jump, Carl looked at him and did something unexpected. He took off his sheriff's hat and placed it on Y/N's head.

"Carl-"

"You used to love stealing it from me, do you remember?" Y/N did. On Hershel's farm was when Rick gave it to him. Y/N remembered the joy of seeing his best friend alive from his gunshot. He also remembered how the walker they agitated got hold of his ankle and how Carl had pulled him free. Afterwards, Y/N sat shaken up and scared. They sat together in silence before he grabbed the hat off Carl's head and placed it on his own, sending the boy a devilish smile and running off. It was an effort to cheer himself up, and it worked.

"I do." Y/N leaned a little closer to Carl, a small smile forcing its way onto his lips.

They didn't have to walk long until they came upon another house. It was white and large, and hopefully not looted. After some trouble opening the door (where Y/N totally did not laugh his ass off at Carl falling backwards), they were met with a beautiful, non-looted kitchen.

The sight of the canned food made Y/N feel better. He knew that the four canned goods wouldn't last long but he couldn't help the feeling of relief when he saw them. They could live a little longer. While he sat on his knees on top of the counter, digging through the cupboards, he heard Carl laugh in disbelief.

"What? Why are you laughing?" And once he saw where Carl was looking he was also shocked. It was glorious. The biggest can of chocolate pudding he had ever seen just sitting there, ready for them to devour.

They were silent as they walked up the red carpeted stairs. Carl was armed with his garden light that he had pulled out of the ground to open the door. The first room made their spirits fall; the dead bird was a symbol of all that they had lost and given up. Y/N felt a stab of sadness peak through his joy at the thought of the family who left, thinking they would return to their feathered friend.

The sadness was short lived when Carl opened the third door and a walker's hands came out for him. He slammed the door fast, but not fast enough. It's arms kept wailing, attempting to get a bite of Carl's flesh.

"Run Y/N!" Before Y/N could react the door was open and the walker was running after carl. He fell back, taking Y/N with him. They both laid on the floor, struggling to get up as the walker swiped at them over and over. Carl's gun shot at the ceiling, missing the rotting flesh head. Finally, he got one shot in, but it didn't stop the walker, it didn't hit it's brain. It lunged again, but Carl's gun clicked with the gut wrenching sound of an empty chamber.

"In here, Carl! Quick!" They got into the bedroom but the books kept the door open as the walker followed them. Carl ran to open the window and Y/N grabbed the lamp on the bedside table. He held it in front of Carl as the walker came closer. He could hear the grunts falling from the other's mouth as he struggled to open the window enough.

It was too late, the walker was on top of them before it was open. It jumped for Y/N but he moved to the side, making Carl fall. Y/N swung the lamp, making the blood and flesh fly from it's face. He gagged for a moment and swung again, Carl's hat flying off in the process. It did nothing to stop the walker as it latched onto Carl's leg as he tried to crawl away. Y/N continued bashing it, trying so hard to keep the black teeth away from the jeans covering his flesh.

"Come on!" Carl slipped his foot out of his boot and ran to the door, Y/N following quickly after snatching the hat off of the floor. They kicked the books away just in time to shut the door and trap the walker inside.

Y/N turned around and latched onto Carl, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and burying his face into his shoulder. His own arms wrapped around Y/N's waist. Their breaths were fast and hard as they lived down the excitement. And if Carl felt a tear absorbing into his shirt, he didn't say anything.

Soon enough they were sitting on the rooftop, a spoon in each a hand and digging into the can of pudding. As the can neared the bottom, Y/N tossed his spoon off the roof, took off Carl's hat and laid his head on his shoulder.

Carl quickly finished the can and followed Y/N by throwing both it and the spoon off the roof. Neither boy said anything as their two hands met, locking together with a promise of safety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday mornings were always hard, no doubt. But this Monday just decided to absolutely kick Y/N's ass. It started late; too late. His alarm didn't go off for whatever reason (he swore technology was out to get him sometimes). So while he appreciated the extra 30 minutes of sleep, he didn't appreciate the total panic that the threat of his mother put in him. Other than her, he wouldn't have cared if he was late to class.

So instead of doting around in his warm, comfortable bed, he threw the covers from himself and instantly regretted it. The cold air hit his bare legs. All he wore to bed that night was underwear and Sam's T-shirt. He threw on a pair of black, washed out cargo pants and a white belt. He kept his boyfriend's shirt on and took a secret moment just for him.

Y/N knew that Sam wasn't an emotional person. He was an emo boy who kept his feelings hidden from his family. And so was Y/N, but Sam refused to even be affectionate with the boy he shared his clothes with. That's why Y/N took the moment to lift the hem of the shirt around his nose and breathe in the cologne he knew as his boyfriend. He felt a pang of need in his chest to be smelling the actual thing; a need to stick his face in the other's neck and never see the light of day again. This was a thought he had a lot in the moments of silence after an argument about affection from Sam.

His shirt sniffing was interrupted by his sister barging into the room without warning, yelling at him to hurry up and get in the car. So that's how he started his school day; longing for Sam and hungry with no breakfast.

First period was math. Which would have been totally boring and not worth commenting on, if it wasn't for one thing. His math teacher who was cruel and loved watching his anxiety riddled students fight for their lives. The man loved calling on him when he knew that Y/N would rather die than answer a question in front of the class. It wasn't so bad in his other classes, the ones he shared with nerds and loners. But this class happened to be filled with the 'populars' which giggled and whispered every time his name was spoken.

He spent the first half of the class toying with his industrial piercing and hoping he wouldn't be called on. By time the second half rolled around he was sitting less tense in his seat and secretly texting Sam (who had skipped school) under his desk. He stopped soon after Sam started taking forever to answer, and only responding with one word texts.

Right when he thought he was in the clear, his name was called. The question he was asked to do was easy, but he still had the wave of panic wash over him when the chittering of his classmates picked up. He smacked himself mentally, reminding the stupid anxiety goblin in him that he was a punk who didn't care about what the jocks said about him.

Second and Third period went as smoothly as they could but he couldn't help the anxiety he got just being in the school. It was a place that was associated with bullies and things he didn't want to do. So what does one do when you're anxious in school? You text your boyfriend to pick you up at lunch.

Y/N sat on the curb just outside the school grounds smoking a cigarette. He had texted Sam and got a message back; he wasn't in a good mood. His answer was snippy and annoyed but all Y/N did was roll his eyes and wait. He knew that despite this, Sam would still come and get him.

A few minutes later once his cigarette was left stamped out on the ground and his mouth was cottony, Sam's beat up car pulled up. Y/N always felt a small twitter in his stomach at the sight of the old black car. It looked like any other but the memories of what he and Sam have done in it make him blush just a little.

Once he sat in the car Sam didn't speak before driving off, most likely not wanting to stay around the school much longer. Y/N looked at him and felt a stab of annoyance. He really liked this stupid emo boy who he's been dating for three months at this point. He really wished Sam would give up pretending around him. All Y/N ever got was short, fleeting moments of chaste kisses and not tight enough hugs. Well, that's if you didn't include their escapades in the back seat. Although those backseat sex acts were sometimes very loving, one can guess that Sam Monroe wouldn't always be forgiving in those moments.

Y/N had hoped that Sam would make him feel better. And he usually does with his dumb movies and bags of weed. This time he felt down and in the dumps; Sam was in a bitchy mood and he wanted to go home. He sighed and turned to the window.

"Just bring me home." His boyfriend huffed and rolled his eyes which he briefly took off the road to look at Y/N.

"You seriously made me come out here and pick you up just to drop you off back home?" At the sound of his slightly pissed off tone, Y/N started messing with his earring.

"Well it's obvious you're not in a good mood. I thought it would be nice to spend some time together but obviously not." Sam took a hand off the steering wheel and grabbed the carton of cigarettes in the cup holder. He held one out between his fingers towards Y/N, silently telling him to light it. He plucked it from Sam's fingers, lit it between his lips, took a draw, and handed it back.

"Stop fucking around with that earing, you only do that when you're anxious. You're not allowed to be anxious around me." The words came from around the cigarette and he took his own puff. "And I'm not in a bad mood, I'm in my normal mood."

"Which is a bad one. If you won't take me home just take me back to your place. I'll probably just smoke some weed and fall asleep anyways." Y/N could see Sam's eyebrows furrow, and he couldn't help finding him attractive. God, what did this boy do to him when he couldn't even stay mad because Sam was just so hot. With his lips around the cancer stick, his ring - clad hand around the steering wheel, and his thick, boyish brows pulled together.

His boyfriend filled thoughts were cut off by the sound of his stomach growling. Only then did he remember he never ate all day.

"What do you want to eat?" Sam's voice was softer then, not soft, but softer.

"I don't have any money. Like I said, just bring me home. I'll eat there." He took the last draw from the cigarette and flicked it out of the window.

"Who said you were paying? Where do you want to go?" They turned to each other at the same moment and made eye contact for the first time that day. Y/N couldn't help the wave of softness falling over him, he could relax; everything was alright.

"Wherever, Sam." As the black car continued to drive towards the greasy fast food chain, Y/N allowed his eyes to shut and his head to lean on the window. All he needed was to rest his eyes for a bit.

He didn't drift off completely but he was only conscious enough to just barely feel the hand of his boyfriend rest against his thigh. It was heavy and perfect resting there, his thumb rubbing his leg back and forth. He adjusted himself and slotted his hand with Sam's. Looking back at the moment, he had wished he was more awake to fully appreciate the feel of his hand. Sam's were bigger than his own and they held their own sense of power that made Y/N feel safe. That combined with the calming thumb rubbing against his knuckles finally made Y/N drift completely into sleep.

When he woke up it was because Sam had parked the car. He looked out the window to see old swing sets holding kids and moms pushing them. There were happy squeals as kids went down the slides. A bag of greasy burgers was thrown on his lap.

"Come on." Getting into the backseat was more awkward in Sam's car then he remembered. That was probably because all the other times they were drunk or high, gripping each other's clothes and trying to squeeze back as fast as they could.

They somehow made it back. Sam pushed off some plastic grocery bags filled with God-knows-what. Once Y/N made his way back, Sam grabbed the paper bag and two drinks that came with their meals. He then slid his right leg behind Y/N, laying back against the door and pulling his boyfriend to lay on him. Y/N laid into his chest with a sigh; allowing himself to have this moment of cuddling. It was rare that this happened. His eyes shut when Sam snaked his arms around his waist and grabbed Y/N's hands. With his back pressed against Sam's chest and his head resting on his right shoulder, he felt more loved than he did in their whole relationship.

Suddenly, Sam's breath was on his neck and then his lips. He couldn't help the tingle running up his whole body when Sam pressed those soft, long kisses on every part of his neck.

"Sam..." The other boy shushed him and continued nipping and kissing all of the places that made him curl his toes. He got the same breathlessness and tingles as when he was high, sloppily making out with Sam. Except it was different because neither of them were high and everything felt so real and so good. But Y/N couldn't enjoy the moment as he knew that it was fleeting. Sam was not one for affection, especially when it came to sober kissing and cuddling. This was the only time he would have this until another few months at least. So instead of falling helplessly into Sam's arms to relax and enjoy the moment, his thoughts raced and he couldn't make himself comfortable.

Once Sam had his fill of kisses he stopped and nuzzled his nose into Y/N's cheek.

"What's wrong? Enjoy this; let me kiss and cuddle you." Sam squeezed him closer and breathed him in deeply. Y/N hummed. "Come on, tell me what's wrong, baby." And how could he do anything besides that when Sam called him baby for the first time ever? Both of them weren't well equipped with pet names and soft, dopy things like that. But hearing that word come from Sam in that voice of his was just too much.

"I don't want this to end." Y/N sounded more lovesick than he hoped he would.

"Me either, I could hold you here forever." Sam then buried his face into the amazing smell of Y/N's hair.

"No, I mean this closeness, this affection. I know tomorrow you'll pull away again, and I will never get this again for months."

"I'm sorry." Sam sighed out these words, knowing that what his boyfriend said was true. "I try, I really do, baby. I'm just not good at this. But I'll get better."

Laying there in his arms, Y/N thought that everything might just turn out alright.

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