If it weren't for you, I'd be howling at the moon.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Erin replied, rifling through her bag and pulling out her wallet. After a moment, she handed her ID to the man. “This might sound weird, but could I get a not-smart tv? That’s super generous of you, but I really don’t need it. And I’m not great with technology,” Erin explained.

He just offers a chuckle as he snaps a picture, sending a message and it to the man working the furniture store downtown. “Oh of course, I see the draw of them and it makes watching Netflix awful convenient, but still more often than not, I’m laying in bed with it playing on my tablet.” He hands her the ID back, “I’ve got one smart tv but it’s in my guest house, not that many people use it. But it’s there.”

“The irony,” Elijah replied in monotone, his one attempt at a joke. “Welp, I guess the trash bin it is then…” 

“People try, we give them credit where it’s due, I suppose,” he says with a soft shrug and a light laugh, “Or the thrift store, someone is bound to want to read and believe in that hokey.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, quirking a brow at the other male’s inquiry. “You seem to know a lot about this kink. You’re not catfishing me behind these texts, are you?” He once again raised his phone, flashing the messages on the screen.

“Feet aren’t important but I can see the draw of a good pair of them,” he shrugs, “I know a lot of things about a lot of things but I have no reason to catfish anyone. They’re curious, let them be.”

                                        “Well, you do live here—- I mean, you’re back now, right? You’re not leaving anytime soon?” She asked, suddenly worried that he might be. She’d only just gotten him back; in fact, the night he found her was the first time she’d seen him in a while, and now that she’d been gone too, she hoped with all her might, that he wasn’t planning on getting out of town again anytime soon, or at least not for very long. That was selfish of her though, she knew that, but she just missed him when he was gone. “Cacio de pepe? I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds delicious,” she beamed, her smile knowing no bounds. “Oh, uh, water is fine, thank you. Now, tell me how you’ve been? I missed you.”

“I’m back,” he promises, “And the next time I leave, I promise will be anywhere Idris and you lot want to go in the world and I’ll take you with me. I’m staying, it seems every time I leave to go somewhere the world falls apart around me,” he teases, giving Ophelia an eye-twinkling smirk. “It’s literally just black pepper and cheese, but I always add some sort of protein because it never feels enough,” he’s taken to having a chef around less and less, and mostly just has the man show up periodically just to show Blake how to cook something. He depending on them growing up so much that he just wanted to be independent, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to clean his own house. He nods, and fills up a glass with ice and water before setting it on the island bar that sat in the middle of his kitchen, “Oh, you know, same old same old. Being a rich pretentious asshole has it’s perk,” he teases, because he tries to be very aware of how not to be an asshole in the end, “Don’t charm me like that, Ophelia, you already know your family is always welcome in the house, even when I’m gone and you need a place to stay, no need to say you miss me,” he jokes with a grin, “I’m sure you have much more interesting stories than anything of mine.”

At the others continuance of the jest, Blake’s delighted shock is registered dramatically for a moment before his expression warms into an open grin. “I didn’t even think of that, you’re a genius. I should bring you on board as a pranking consultant.”

“I can’t wait to add that to my Twitter bio,” he teases, “Blake Wakefield; Spoiled rich nutter and pranking consultant,” he says, but grins, “The pranking consultant is the part to be prideful of. You know those fashion shows with transforming outfits? Like suddenly it’s something simple and then they turn and it’s a ball gown? Imagine that but with a t-rex costume or something.”

“As far as Instagram is concerned, I’m currently on a juice cleanse, but if I don’t get a burrito or a pizza or something full of grease and cheese in the next hour, I don’t think I can be held accountable for my actions anymore…” 

“And as far as my instagram is concerned, I’m still in Bali, god how I miss the sky,” he says, voice taking on a dreamy tone, “The only good pizza is covered in more cheese than anything else. There is nothing wrong with cheese.”

“Tell me it’s not just me.” He shifted in his seat, turning to the other. “If anyone asked for pictures of your feet, right in the middle of sexting, you would be weirded out, too, right?” he said, the phone in his hand clear evidence of what he was referring to.

Blake furrowed his brows, looking as if he was deep in thought but mostly was trying to ignore the curiosity building inside him. “Ok, strange but kinks are kinks. Do you have good feet? Or hobbit toes? That’s the important thing, that depends on how deep their kink is.”

                                       Feeling safe again was the hardest part now; not just when she was walking the same street where it happened, where Blake had found her, but even sometimes when she was sitting at home alone in the evenings—- it was strange, that feeling of fear and how it altered so many things, but as she suspected, it was nowhere in sight when she was in Blake’s company, it couldn’t be. “Oh, really? He’s gonna love that you said that— he’ll tell everyone at school,” she said, beaming. Nothing made her happier than people adoring Idris and accepting him, and she counted herself lucky that Blake had always been like that when it came to her little brother, and, well, to any of the O’Haras. “Yeah, I could eat,” she said. “Especially if it buys me some more time with you.”

He grins and welcomes her in as if she owned the place but they know that any of their family is welcome to stop by at any moment, Blake wasn’t one to tell people he adored ‘no’. Maybe that’s why he let the members of the O’Haras to walk over him with no problem. “Anything to make it look like someone actually lives here,” he teases, leading her to the kitchen area. “I was making cacio de pepe,” he tells her, “But all that I’ve done so far is start to boil some water and let some shrimp thaw but if you have another craving, I can do that no problem. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“I suppose you have a point, Mother Teresa,” Erin sighed. She couldn’t tell if the man was full of shit, trying to repent for something terrible, or just freakishly nice. But whatever his motives, she appreciated the sentiment. She fully believed that it was the job of people in positions of power to help those who were not, and despite having contempt for the privilege of rich white men, Erin knew that privilege was necessary in order to get shit done.  “So, uh, where do I get this TV?”

Maybe he was trying to repent for generations of entitled kids like him, kids who acted like they knew best but Blake learned that he didn’t know best, that the world didn’t owe him anything but in fact, he owed the world his life and millions more paid more to it then he ever would. He pulls his phone out, and a short conversation with a man at a local electronics store later, Blake says, “Can I see your ID?” he asks with an open hand, phone still in the other, “I’ll take a picture of it, send it to Charles from the emporium downtown, you go to him and present your ID and it’s yours. 55 inch smart tv ok?”

             The all too familiar figure, emulating Adrian’s own size and height, was an easy sight to spot from where he parked his ‘85 Land Cruiser Wagon aways down the road. The Levi’s sherpa jacket Adrian wore tightened around his broad frame when cold air pushed against him en route to Blake Wakefield. The man was a sight for sore eyes–– a mentor to Adrian once, and one of his dearest friends to this day, and someone he had a threshold of endless respect for. Though the two were born in two very separate worlds, they found a likeness in the mutual desire to simply do good, and the rest was just… easy. 

            Blake’s greeting was what was to be expected– the perfect mix of enigmatic and playful –and the blossoming smile it elicited from the younger raven male was adjoined with a bellied laugh, “You serious? I’m in, man, but fair warning–– I might not make it back in one piece,” He mused as he edged closer, images of floating markets and opulent palaces he had only seen in photos flashing fleeting desire through his head, “It’ll either be The Hangover Part II type-deal or all those street monkeys will whisk me away,” He enveloped Blake in his usual bear hug then, broad hand clasping his back throughout, but there was a reason why Adrian squeezed a little tighter than what was usual for him. If Blake hadn’t been there when Ophelia needed him, Adrian couldn’t even think about where they’d be, where she’d be. It was just a cumbersome topic to bring up in first greeting, so the hug would have to be the sensory creature’s own way of addressing it, for now. “But, for now, it’s me splurging on you, ” He started into the chic interior of Ginger Blue, halting at the host stand in a wait, “So, what’s good? On the menu–– and with you?” 

“Of course,” he promises, arms wrapped around Adrian in one of the deepest hugs he could imagine. The O’Haras in general were the stars of Lanford in his eyes, but Adrian always held a special spot in his heart. He teases, “Maybe we’ll just have to ask Idris where he wants to go in the world instead,” he moves to step away and through the threshold of the door and was immediately bombarded with smells that just made him crave everything about the country. They all deserved a nice long vacation, and Blake would offer the world to make them happy.

The host leads them to an empty booth and Blake just orders a water  “Ah? The menu is well balanced, if you can’t handle spice I’d stay away from these,” he points to a few spots on the menu, “And with me? Life is life,” he jokes, “Nothing special, nothing good. The winter boredom is starting to lift, so that’s good.” He grins, “Anything new?”

A dramatic and quiet sigh airs from Blake after the voice stops him in his tracks. “That’s pretty sage advice but I’m unfortunately a giant rookie,” Pursing his lips for a moment, he rests his hands on his hips and adds an explanation that’s entirely unnecessary but he feels the need – only to set the scene. “Pranking is great until you’re stuck wearing duck slippers in public and you’re twenty minutes from home.” The man can’t help it, he’s smiling now, good mood alleviated by the mischievous glint in the others smirk. 

He just chuckles, tosses both bags of grains in to his basket because who cares? He has the money to burn. “You could have really drove it home and wore a onesie. Been one of those lot who tear off a trench coat and surprise, pajamas!”

“Grief: An Insider’s Guide to Love, Loss, and Accepting God’s Will,” Elijah lazily read aloud the title sprawled across the spine of the book. It was probably a sweet gesture, his grandmother sending along a gift in light of the one year anniversary, but he couldn’t help but think she really should have saved herself the money. “Well, great. Hey, you want a free book?” 

Blake just snorts, he remembers how his family was after his parents passed, folk he had never really even met sending him gifts and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ll pass,” he says after a moment, “Been trying to read about stress-free lives but I’ve been too stressed.”

He did exactly what he was told. He dug through, the online version of the menu, found a few meals he wouldn’t mind trying, and kept that in mind as he walked out of his car and waited for the other man just outside the door, mostly using the moment of standing still to go through emails and to send out out a few short replies, nothing super serious. But still, he waited, dark eyes aware of his peripheral vision to see who was passing him until a familiar looming figure was nearby.

“If you’re my sugar daddy today, remind me in summer that I owe you a trip  for Thai food in Thailand.”

It was the little things in life that were the greatest pleasures for Blake Wolfe – like embarrassing the hell out of his best friend in a grocery store at 8pm. The duck slippers he donned quacked with every step and he was giddy with laughter as Grayson hastily ran away, the echoes of “I don’t know you. We’re not friends!” filtering back to Blake; typically he managed to keep up, but the shoes were hardwork– thus he lost his friend and his attempt at running had slowed to a relaxed walk. Thinking aloud, Blake hummed, glancing at his feet quickly and looking back up. “We’re in a bit of a situation now, Daffy.”

He’s contemplating if he wants bulgar or quinoa, and had gotten usually pretty used to ignoring noises around him, be it crying babies or stock kids putting away cereal but today it seemed harder. Or maybe it was the faint quacking he heard growing louder through time, like an ominous shark them that broke him from his internal monologue. Eyes dart down and a brow raises, “Typically I keep my slippers to the house because I hate when they get soggy,” he muses, smirking grin at his lips.

Adrian: Ohh sort of like Thai Food Roulette? Hell yeah.

Adrian: Man you should have seen all the valentines he came home with this year. The boy's our generation's Henry Miller, I'm telling you

Blake: Live dangerously! Food poisoning is only temporary!

Seb: No!! She might wanna take out her teeth and show me her talents! I have seen yes man!

Seb: Im so screwed

Seb: Hey, sorry to bother you but I have got a problem.

Seb: I'm locked out my house....

Seb: In just a towel...And the granny across the street is starting to give me funny looks

Seb: Help!