PEDESTRIAN AT BEST.

STARTER FOR: @fcrdcollins​ WHEN: Feb 14th, 2020

He’s made up his mind about not going to the auction the day the party had been announced. And even though Anika has been bugging him about it all the time, TJ stands by his decision to stay home. He’s got all the company he could possibly want, at least for a while, since Ford’s told him that he might be hitting the auction later.

And, yeah, maybe another Twilight movie is a ridiculous choice, but it seems like a choice that’s going to take their minds off shit that’s bothering them. TJ doesn’t know what that could possibly be, especially when it comes to Ford. The other has been acting weird for the past few days and TJ knows that something’s up. The thing is, though, that he didn’t want to push for answers, outright ask about what’s going on. Instead, he’s been waiting for Ford to bring whatever that’s been bothering him up himself. None of that has happened yet and TJ’s started to get worried. A lot. 

He walks back into the living room with two bottles of beer and hands one to his friend as he sits back down. He quickly glances at the screen to at least pretend like he’s paying attention and then turns his head to the side to look at Ford again. He hesitates before he drops the question, even though it’s really not that fucking complicated or weird. “Are you okay?” TJ finally asks him and he hates himself for how transparent the tone of his voice makes him — he sounds so goddamn worried.

Ford was only a tad reluctant about staying home and skipping the auction. He wasn’t exactly prepared for how he might feel the second he stepped into that place, surrounded by people he knew and didn’t know. The thought is a bit haunting and he needed this time with TJ now in order to decipher if going later on in the night was a good idea.

With that thought in mind, it was obvious that TJ’s presence has a prominent impact on his mood. Just knowing he’s there makes him feel a bit better, it makes him feel calmer. Even while the endless stream of intrusive thoughts still bang pots and pans inside his mind, at least he had this. Though their friendship was strong and that alone has Ford convinced that TJ was aware that something wasn’t exactly right. Usually, Ford was able to hide what was going on fairly well. But when it came to Marie, it was always hard. Unlike TJ’s impact on him, his mother’s impact on him was absurdly negative. You could see it on his face instantly, something was just a little off.

Like clockwork, TJ’s asking if he’s okay and Ford knows he’ll have to give in eventually. Before he does so, he sighs a little, pointing towards the TV, “Jacob just took his shirt off, man, you can’t just interrupt during these scenes. They’re comedy gold.” Obviously, he’s stalling a bit, trying to save himself some time so he doesn’t have to spiral again. Blue eyes look to TJ and then back to the screen before looking back towards the other man, “Stop soundin’ so worried, man. I’m fine.” He says, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He did feel better than he did days ago. “I’m — Marie’s back around. I needed her for something and now she’s just kinda..weaseled her way back into my life again, I guess..”

STARTER FOR: @fcrdcollins​ EVENT: Valentine’s Day Bachelorette Auction.

As Nessa stepped down from the stage, she tried to gain control of her emotions. With a quick smile thrown Oliver’s way, she made a gesture that she hoped conveyed she’d be right back, before hurrying away. At a pace that did not make it seem like she was running away, but definitely not slow enough that anyone could doubt she had a destination in mind. She didn’t, really. Her brain was only thinking OUT.

That had been an exhilarating and at the same time utterly embarrassing experience, and one she was not likely to repeat again in a hurry. Nessa felt sweaty and she hoped that nothing was showing through on her dress. 

Her brother had bid on her for fuck’s sake. Her brother! And not in an attempt to drive the price up, but because he legitimately didn’t want anyone else to win. Nessa knew that Finn was trying to be protective, but didn’t he see how that looked? Nessa hadn’t expected much, honestly. Just a few pity bids. But, to her surprise (and horror), the price had gone up as people volleyed back and forth. 

Thank fuck they had stopped before it reached the astronomical heights of some of the other women. But for a girl who had come from where she had come from, it had certainly been a humbling experience. 

Earlier Nessa had seen a door that led outside, and there was nothing in this moment she wanted more than fresh air. She felt slightly sick with mortification. And everyone had been looking at her, witnessing her brother’s embarrassing display, so she had smiled through it until finally–finally–everything was done. 

Rounding the corner she thought led to the door, she ran into someone. “Fuck, shit, I’m sorry!” 

It’s a miracle that Ford didn’t take a smoke break sooner. A little after the bidding’s ended, he took it upon himself to go outside and pluck a cigarette from his jacket pocket. His thoughts were surprisingly tame right now though Ford believes he might have the alcohol to thank for that. Without it, he might have spiraled hours ago. It wasn’t in his plans tonight to show up to the auction. Not until the last minute, anyway. There were parts of him that were grateful that he came out but also parts of him that wishes he just stayed home like he originally intended.

Ford inhales deeply, trying to get a hold of his intrusive thoughts as soon as they come. He didn’t want to think of the ultimatums and the opposite sides of each spectrum that live inside his mind. There were too many and Ford was so sick of going over them. He was sick of feeling bruised, he was sick of being scared, and he was sick of thinking so much. Maybe that was his cue to go back inside. 

With that, he tosses his cigarette onto the ground, stepping on it with the toe of his sneaker. Right as he turns around to head back in, he collides right into someone who was coming out. “Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, taking a generous step back. “No, no, it’s fine, don’t be sorry. You’re all good.” Ford says, clearing his throat after speaking. “You alright? I should’ve watched where I was goin’.” He says, finally averting his gaze towards the woman he crashed into. He recognizes her. Finn’s sister, new in town. He had watched the brief bidding war for her which mainly consisted of Finn being overly protective. Oliver Stone won her in the end which Ford thinks was the better outcome, truth be told. Nobody wanted to be won by their own sibling at a Valentine’s Day event, right? “Quite a show in there, huh?” Ford says now, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Might as well make conversation. “Ollie’s a good dude. Like, really good. Better than most in this town. He’ll make sure you have a good time.” That’s when he chuckles a little, “Finn embarrassin’ you?”

Once the bidding ends, Ford can breathe again. The second he began to participate in the whole thing he almost immediately regretted it. Sure, it was all in good fun and Ford wasn’t taking it seriously, but it was still strangely exhausting. Sometimes the people of Olympus had that impact on him. Or maybe seeing Cas Chambers, of all people, bidding on Izzy was like being pushed to the ground and stomped on. Not because he was jealous, not at all. It was because Cas had cheated on his best friend in the entire world. His distaste for Cas ran deep after what he did to TJ and it’s something he can’t exactly dwell on for too long because if he did he might beat the other man to a pulp.

When he spots Izzy in the crowd, he tries to smile, though there’s a bitterness lying within him. Ford was blissfully unaware of the fact that it was Izzy who Cas slept with at the time. It was better that he didn’t know as that would make things ten times worse. But, of course, from Ford’s perspective, he believes Izzy knows nothing of what happened between TJ and Cas so he takes it easy on her. “Cas Chambers, huh? Congrats.” Ford orders himself another beer, “Your Valentine’s Day is shapin’ to be a good one, I assume.” He then notices Izzy’s outside which makes him stall a little like someone’s gotten hold of his motherboard and started slamming their fists against it. “Jesus, you look good. But you know that I’m sure.” A laugh laces through his words this time, taking a generous sip of his fresh beer.

@fcrdcollins​

Rowan and Izzy have gotten close over the last ten years – there is no denying that they are very different people, but somehow their friendship works. So of course she knows all about the history between the brunette and one Ford Collins, though she isn’t entirely sure what the fuck is going on with them now that he is back in town — she wonders if they even really know. But, she hadn’t missed him getting into a bidding war over Izzy for a short time, as well as bidding on Gisele and Charlie. It isn’t really any of her business, but that has never stopped her from sticking her nose into things before. Still, she doesn’t want to cause a scene at a charity even made for kids so for now she won’t ask. Instead she just greets him with a small smile, “Hey, big spender.” They two aren’t particularly close, but Rowan knows Ford enough from his time with the club and he and Andy are… friends? She’s not really sure. “Havin’ a good night?”

Just as Rowan and the rest of Olympus were completely unsure about Ford’s warped love life, he was too. Which was a bit daunting considering it was his very own. Should he have a hold of these things? He thinks maybe but the answer is most definitely yes. This event wasn’t a true testament to his feelings, though. Tonight he was just bored, doing whatever whenever, especially since his original plan was to stay at home and watch TV. He even contemplated throwing in a bid for Rowan towards the end just for the sake of doing so. Rowan wasn’t a constant in his life as Izzy had been back when he wasn’t nomad, so he didn’t really know her. But she was nice enough and didn’t bother Ford as much as the rest. To Ford, she seemed cool. Now he’s kinda convinced her pussy might be made of diamonds or something considering how the bidding war for her went too. Nice thinking, Ford.

“Hey, Mrs. Eleven Thousand.” He jokes, nodding towards her. “What do you think all that money will get these kids? Two textbooks? Maybe a single piece of chalk?” Ford was surprised at his own tone now. He didn’t joke as openly with people he didn’t know very well. Maybe he’s changing. At her question, Ford can only shrug, “It’s been alright. I wasn’t plannin’ on comin’ tonight so I wasn’t sure what to expect. It isn’t so bad. Kinda bummed nobody got into a fistfight during the bidding, but still..” The blond shrugs again, “What about you? All that bidding on you hasn’t gotten to your head, I hope.”

Drama happened to be Isobella’s middle name. She took everything to heart and this instance was no exception. But at one point, Ford had been her source of comfort. She still wants him to be— God, she wanted someone to be. Maybe they weren’t perfect individually and Hell, they probably weren’t even perfect together but maybe they could be. It’s something she’d thought about in the past and she had always wanted to be so fucking true. To this day, she wished it. But if she couldn’t be sure about herself, how could she be sure about him? Not to mention him booking it out of town in a time where he couldn’t keep her safe but she couldn’t keep him at all. The drugs had made her desperate when she chose Ethan, desperate for something more. And the Old Lady title held that difference. It meant she didn’t have to fuck half the Club on various occasions in order to feel safe. She didn’t have to serve drinks to members as an advertisement of herself because she was already wanted. Obviously, that had all been a mistake and only a temporary relief that she was able to capture. 

Izzy took a deep breath as she sat down on the couch finally in Ford’s apartment. TJ was nowhere in sight so she tried to compose herself for the moment, Ford’s eyes glued on her. “Look— it all sounds overdramatic and I’m being annoying and all that but I met Gen,” she starts, deciding to lean in to the trust that Ford and Izzy had tried to establish. Maybe one day it would be mutual between the two of them. “Gen is Jeremiah’s ex and… I guess they’re getting back together,” she shrugs, her voice very small in the room. It sounds stupid now, coming to Ford’s and telling him all about how the man that he’d been jealous of all those years ago still resided in her heart alongside Ford. But honesty— that’s what they were built on. Wasn’t it? Not just the sex? Not just the physical attraction that the pair have a hard time ignoring? “And I just— I’m sorry,” she says, finally apologizing for her own end of the equation. Ford had been so bold as to say he was sorry for disappearing on her. Isobella could be a bit bold too. “Being second choice is fucked up. And I’m sorry I ever put you in this position. I—” I was high all the time. I was an idiot. I was looking for more that I’m not sure you were ready to give me. I needed a quick out. I barely knew who I was. 

“I just— I’m scared I’m getting left behind and I need you to know that I’m sorry, too. I made a mistake with Ethan and we all fucking know it. You may have left me and that fucking hurt but I left you before that,” she continues. Izzy had never really felt like second best in Ford’s eyes, in Ryder’s eyes, and she hadn’t until now in Jeremiah’s eyes. It fucking hurt and now, she needed Ford to know that while she’d forgiven him, she wanted him to forgive her. And if the ache in her chest showed her anything, it’s that she may be apologizing for a while; even if Ford had hurt her too, neither of them deserved this shit. Izzy squeezed his hand in hers, running a thumb over his rough knuckles, knuckles she’d grown to care for. And after ten years, it still lingers. Her eyes look down at their hands before returning to his face, a faint smile flashing to him, waiting to hear what he thought. “I’m here now, if you want me here. However you want me.”

Fuck. The second Jeremiah’s name slips from Izzy’s lips he almost asks her to leave, mainly because he couldn’t hear about this anymore. He couldn’t stand to have a repeat of what happened so many years ago, watching Ethan and her come together like couples do. For now, he just listens, a defeated look gracing his expression now. He tries not to let it sway how he’s been feeling the last few weeks but that was always an impossible task. If there’s anything that he’s learned over the course of many years, it was that he was quite the sensitive being, especially in regards to the people he cared for and loved. That happened to be a good handful of people too. Ford has finally accepted that he wasn’t as alone as he thought. He had people. No matter how much he tried to push them away or run from them, he had people. 

“Don’t be sorry,” He says, gaze cast downwards. He, once again, has to force himself to collect his thoughts in order to say anything coherent. If anything, Ford believes he was too tired to argue what he was feeling inside. Even now, after the revelations that he certainly wasn’t as alone as he’s come to believe, he still feels like a backseat option to Izzy. He can’t sit down and truly believe that she loved him. Even with ten years under their belt. Maybe that was a Ford problem and not an Izzy problem, he still wasn’t entirely sure. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You like Jeremiah. It makes sense. He protected you and was there for you. There’s room in that heart of yours for so many people and I’ve always admired that.” Probably because he’s also the same way, despite always wanting to come off as hard or tough. In reality, Ford was much softer deep down. Under all that concrete and steel. “I mean, fuck, we’ve both been around the block. Who are we kidding? I’m not gonna sit here and tell you I’ve been celibate or some shit.” A bittersweet laugh escapes him, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Trust me, I really get it..” 

Ford moves to lean back onto the couch, pursing his lips in thought. “It’s not overdramatic, it’s basic human chemistry, you know? I think, as people, especially people like us, we’re afraid of being alone. Or being fuckin’ abandoned. Even now, I can’t tell you I wouldn’t feel hurt if Harlow or Charlie just started seein’ other people. I don’t wanna be alone and I don’t wanna lose people. I know what you’re feeling.” The words that escape him feel like weights being lifted from his tired shoulders, truth be told. It’s obvious that Ford was visibly softened. He wasn’t the same as he was ten years ago or even five years ago.

“I want you here.” Ford turns to Izzy again, still leaning back on the couch. “I want...a real job.” The blond admits, now just letting Izzy in on what was going on inside his brain. He laughs a little, “Like, I’m fuckin’ sick of being beaten up, Iz.” He laughs out, a little bittersweet once again. His expression falls then, feeling that pain rush up again. “Do you — Do you ever think it could be me?” It’s then he realizes that doesn’t make any sense. So, he tries again. “Do you ever think I could be the one for you? Like,” Ford searches for the right words, “could it ever just be me and you?” Because he wants that. He won’t say it, but he wants that.

Befriending Andrew Thane was a strange occurrence in Ford’s life. While he wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship yet, they were somewhere close to it now than ever before. Maybe they had reached a common ground which was certainly better than nothing. For once, he doesn’t feel that unscathed annoyance he used to feel while in his presence. Now, he kinda admires him. He was a pretty decent dude and now that Ford was nomad, there was no real reason for him to endlessly search for reasons to hold such a prominent distaste for the other man.

Charlie looked amazing, but maybe amazing was an understatement. Ford never fit in during events like this. In fact, he stuck out like a sore thumb most of the time or simply faded to the background, which he usually preferred, believe it or not. Even now, he feels that sudden rush of nervousness while accompanied by a crowd of people. He puts his guard up, though this time it’s a little swayed considering the alcohol raising through his system now. He already had a few back at home with TJ and he’s another beer in here.

With his hands in his pockets, he turns to Charlie, who has been sticking with him most of the night. He’s silently thankful for that, as her presence is enough to ease his nerves. “There’s a lot of people here tonight, all holding onto their hard-earned cash.” He teases, turning around to order himself another beer. “You hopin’ some rich dude comes and snatches you up or what?” He questions, obviously joking. Ford has never really been the jealous type. Only silently. In truth, he didn’t think he was good enough to be jealous to begin with. So to him, he didn’t see the point. With Charlie, it was a little different for obvious reasons. 

To put it simply, Ford originally was going to stay home tonight and watch TV with TJ. Mainly because he hasn’t exactly been in the event mood, especially in regards to recent events that have transpired in his life. He really wanted to lock himself away and maybe sleep away all his troubles. That usually helped. But something inside him changed last minute. Maybe it was the open bar and free food or the simple idea that people he cared for were being auctioned off and he kinda wanted to see the kind of commotion that creates.

So, here he was, snacking on a heart-shaped cookie and drinking a beer. He’s tossed in a few bets for Anika, just for the fun of it. They haven’t exactly found common ground yet, though Ford hopes they will soon. In truth, he needed family right now. Family that wasn’t his wicked mother who has now stepped into the picture again. He puts his worrisome thoughts to rest as he approaches his once pseudo-younger sister, grabbing another cookie on the way. “Who you hoping wins you tonight?” He asks, eyebrows shooting upward. “I’m kinda hoping a brawl breaks out. I’m bettin’ on Andy to start swinging soon.” Great ice breaker, Ford, really great.

Fingers intertwine as she leans towards him. It’s been days and her body yearns for his presence, uncoils gently before him; her home. “You can tell me anything,” the brunette coaxes softly, brushing her nose upon his as green hues trail over his features. There’s an unbreakable bond that forms with someone with whom you’ve traversed hell with. Often times, she likes to think that they had to be broken down as children if only to help build one another up stronger. She’d given him her jarred pieces to seal any holes within him, and taken his pieces. They were intertwined — forever destined to be apart of each other. 

His silence finally breaks and she practically holds her breath. No reaction until he gets over the brunt of it. Nothing but the brush of her thumb across his hand and the gentle caress of his cheek. “Well, something has to keep you grounded. Feels right that I’d be the little voice at the back of your mind.” She quips back softly, her smile remaining though the next set of words rock through her, stilling her form. It cut through her like glass. I killed someone. Not the shock of the act — for she’d seen him beat many individuals to a pulp, whether it be in the pentagon or due to their smart ass comments directed at her. No, it was the weight upon his shoulders. A sort of torment that she hadn’t managed to unburden him from. The knowledge that he’d nestled the fear in his chest without reprieve. 

“My love,” she coo’s at him before sliding from her seat and onto her knees on the floor. A desperate need to get closer to him. An arm moves into his lap before the other caresses his jaw, tipping his head to capture the azure gaze she knows too well. “You did what was right,” she whispers. “You saved a friend from a bad man.” She further explains as fingers move to smooth the creases along his face.

“Your mom fixed it, you know there’s no way to tie this to you.” Nor did she believe that his fears laid with getting caught. He’d witnessed his mother hard at work many times and sought her out for that same reason. She was cruel, but good at her job. “This doesn’t change anything. You’re a good man, mon coeur. The pictures, sensation of blood on your hands — it’ll  fade in time. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the demons at bay. I won’t let them tell you any different. You did what any other person would have done. You’re the reason she’s alive. Whatever comes next, we’ll deal with it together.” Specifically, the leech that was Marie. 

Her form lifted gently from the ground, tentatively moving his hands from his waist so she could settle there. Her form pressed into his while she places a kiss to his cheek, trailing her lips to the shell of his ear. “I’ll be here to remind you that this moment doesn’t change anything.” Her heart broke for him, wishing that his guilt and fear was her own to bear. “Everything is going to be okay and we’re going to take it one day at a time. You’ll be okay, I promise.” Another kiss was placed below his arm as arms wrapped around him. “You don’t know what I’d do if anyone touched you. Death would be a dream come through. — If this makes you a bad, than I must be evil. ” 

Despite the lingering panic that bubbles to the surface, Ford calms down. He keeps his gaze locked on Charlie, searching for salvation in her expression. Maybe it was naive to cling to a human and mistake them for a form of safety, but Ford had no other option right now. Soon enough he’ll come around and finally begin to find comfort in his own solitude, but for right now he needed her. For right now, he listens to her, allows her words to soak into his mind and make a home. Usually, when someone attempted to console him, he wouldn’t bother trying to absorb even a single sentiment, mainly because they never worked or benefitted him at any capacity. But with Charlie, it was always different, especially now.

He nods, still a little in shock. The difference between dwelling on his actions versus actually releasing them into the world in the form of a confession was strangely paralyzing, realizing now that he’s been silent for a couple beats too long. Even then, he still only nods, breathing deeply and allowing her to comfort her in any way that she thought was best. It works, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it, but perhaps it was obvious by the way his own expression softens. He calms down, leaning into her touch. “I saved a friend..” He says now, echoing her words, hoping it’ll convince him otherwise. He repeats them in his head like a mantra, trying to make them real.

Ford is quick to wrap his arms around her once she’s settled in his lap, allowing himself to melt into her completely. “It’s not even that I feel....bad about killing him. The guy fuckin’ deserved it, you know? But I hate how — changed I feel. I don’t know if that makes any sense..” Really, he was just traumatized. With the mixture of someone’s blood splattered across a hotel room wall and seeing his abusive mother in the shortest span of time known to man, he wasn’t sure how to process any single emotion inside him. 

Ford cracks a subtle smile, especially at what Charlie says. It was so strange knowing he was loved that much, but he’s gotten used to that fact when it came to Charlie. It was hard to brush over her emotions for him as a passing thing because in reality, how could he? They had grown up together and it was foolish to believe that what she felt for him wasn’t true after so much time. They’ve been going at it for this long, there was no way that this was just a fleeting thing. It never will be, especially to him. The blond reaches up to brush a few strands of hair from her face, moving to also run his index finger down her nose after doing so. It’s something he’s always done and will probably always do. “I’m so honored,” He jokes, though he knows he’d never put her in that kind of situation. He’d rather die than have Charlie experience what he did. “But you’re not evil.” He continues, “You’re the best person I’ve ever really known, Birdly.”

Ford’s grip on her tightens, blue eyes never leaving her face now. “She wants to see you too, by the way.” He says quietly, knowing they’ll both know who he’s speaking about. Marie, while never liking a single woman in Ford’s life, has always had a very small liking to Charlie. Probably because she was used to her but still, in Marie’s little world that counted for something. “She asked about you, wondering if you were still around and shit. I didn’t tell her anything but I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.” He laughs a little, “Brace yourself.”

STARTER FOR: @fcrdcollins WHEN: Feb 8th, Riley’s birthday party

He knows that shit like this is totally not Ford’s scene but he appreciates the other showing up nonetheless (even if TJ probably had to spend a lot of time convincing him to come). Ford can barely talk to one kid, so having him surrounded by, like…God knows how many (Eli’s kinda lost count of whom they’ve invited) is probably not doing the guy any favors. From what Eli’s noticed, the other man’s spent most of the party drinking by himself in the corner or with TJ, Iz or guys from the club. He’s by himself when Eli approaches him with a fresh beer for him. “What’s up, dude. Where’s your party hat?” Eli smiles at him and hands him the drink. He only now notices that Ford looks, well, like shit, to be completely honest. Tired, mostly, more than usual. Something’s off and Eli can’t really stop himself from asking. “You good, dude? You look kinda shit.”

Ford runs the risk of sounding dramatic, but this much was true: he feels completely and utterly fucking terrible. Unlike himself too. He feels changed. After the first day, he isolated himself from everyone. He took it upon himself to just take some much needed time off, which was understandable. Ford needed space to think. But he had to approach real-life again eventually and what other way to do so was at a little kid’s birthday party? In truth, he wouldn’t have missed Riley’s party for the world. Oliver and Eli were his friends, some of the only friends he’s ever really had, and he owed them at least this. He cracks a forced smile as Eli approaches him, taking the beer from him with a silent thank you. The blond picks up the party hat that he had been wearing that was resting on the table before him. He waves it in the air a little before speaking, “Lettin’ these blond locks breathe for a bit.” He tries to joke and it comes out okay, though inside it feels terribly wrong. Ford feels the need to flee once Eli asks how he’s doing. Or to come up with some elaborate lie in order to save face. For some reason, he doesn’t. Not entirely, anyway. He was too exhausted now. Either way, what was the point? “Um, I don’t even know. I’m fine..” The biker says, scratching at the back of his neck. It’s not the truth but it’s not a complete lie either. “I’m, uh, talkin’ to my mom again. It’s no big deal, I’ll figure it out sooner or later. She’s just...you know, being her usual fucked up self.” He laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood. Ford obviously leaves out the part where he shot and killed a man. He didn’t want to ruin this day for Eli. “What about you, huh? How’s it feel havin’ a five-year-old now? She’s growin’ up fast, man.”

@fcrdcollins​

It had been a few days since she’d last seen and spoken to Ford. While she wouldn’t have normally been alerted by that, it was a gut feeling that had the brunette texting him right after she walks off the dance floor. By the time she’s home, her fourth and last text is sent to him. A mere plea for him to come and visit. As always, there hasn’t been a call either of them as failed to comply to. If asked, she’d drop anything for him. It’s always been an unspoken agreement between the pair. The rumble of an engine dies down and Charlie shoves the food she’s brought from a chinese takeout place on two plates. “Hey,” she smiles fondly at him when he walks in. Despite the immediate sensation that something is wrong, she doesn’t dare speak on it right away. She doesn’t have enough evidence to bring it up, nor can she pinpoint what it is about him that puts her on edge. “I got some food for us. I worked up an appetite,” she smirks as she sits in the same outfit she’d danced in less than an hour ago. Lace and mesh that leaves little to the imagination. 

“How’ve you been? It’s been a few days.” She chimes up as casually as she can between bites. However, even before he speak, it’s the way he moves, the look in his eyes, his aura that immediately sends off alarm bells for her. Putting her fork down, she sits up and extends a hand on the table. She’s not foolish enough to infiltrate his space right now. Not until she gets a better handle on what’s going on inside of his head. “Mon coeur, what’s going on? — Don’t tell me that you’re fine because I’m not asking. I know you’re not. I can tell.” She always could, even when they were children. For so long, she’d known him like the back of her hand — his emotions had always made more sense than her own. When her eyes search his, she freezes as it suddenly clicks. She’s seen this before — a few times, but enough to recognize it. 

“Are you talking to Marie? Did she find you, reach out?” For the life of her, she can’t fathom why he would contact her so the only plausible answer is that she reached out. Still, that doesn’t necessarily feel right. After all, Marie doesn’t reach out to anyone unless she needs something. 

Now if there was anyone in Ford’s like that truly knew Ford inside and out, it was Charlie. By now, he’s come to accept that there were a handful of people in his life who did indeed know him. He had friends now, unlike many years ago when he was lonely and had pushed everyone away. But Charlie had always been there. She was the one to put her foot down and say fuck you, you’re not getting rid of me. Not to mention they’ve known each other since they were children. Charlie had known Ford when he was a chubby, quiet kid, so there was no looking past her. They were stuck with each other and that was just the way it’s always been. Most days, Ford feels like he knew Charlie better than he knew himself. 

To put it simply, he’s been keeping to himself the last few days. After what happened with Harlow and the presence of Marie back in his life, he’s recoiled. He’s completely shut himself out from everything and everyone. But like stated before, Charlie wasn’t going to take no for an answer and he’s always loved that. Either way, even if Ford won’t openly admit it, he needed her right now. More than anything. So, he goes to her place, fully prepared to either breakdown at the door or have a simple, quiet evening together. He hopes for the latter but he’s never been the lucky type. So, despite his wishes and hopes, he still prepares for the worst. 

Moments go by in strange, hazy fragments and all he can see is his mother. In the food settled before him, in the lines of his dry, cracked hands, and in the way he moves and speaks. Charlie’s voice grounds him again, especially as her nickname for him reaches his ears. He wants to melt into it somehow and escape whatever turmoil was going on inside his mind. Suddenly, a lump forms in his throat as he forces himself to look at her, blue eyes crashing with green. Charlie knew. Of course, she knew, she always fucking knew. 

“I fucked up, Birdy.” Ford finally says, his voice quieter than before, his own little nickname for her coming out naturally. The organed inside his chest races at a rapid pace and Ford moves to lean his forehead against Charlie’s, taking the hand she extended for him. In truth, she was the only person outside of TJ that he’d willingly lean into like this. For a second, he can’t help but laugh a little, “How do you always know? Are you inside my head? ‘Cause I’m startin’ to get freaked out.” The blond jokes now, though the pain in his voice remains. “I — She didn’t reach out. I needed her help. I fucked up.” His gaze averts down to their hands, both of them now resting in Charlie’s lap. There’s a part of Ford that fears this is what might finally drive Charlie away from him, despite the two of them being each other’s person for longer than he could even remember. “I, um, I killed somebody. For — For Harlow, you know her. He had a gun and the whole thing just exploded. I knew it would happen someday but I’m just — I don’t know..” Ford stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I’m scared.”

The first glance at Ford doesn’t quite soothe her but his words do and his touch really does the trick. It’s a small gesture but it’s one that she wants to bottle up and take with her for safekeeping. Just bottle up the calm and use it as needed. Neither of them were necessarily calm people and stability probably was neither of their middle names. However, when Izzy was with him now, she felt a bit more grounded on Earth rather than soaring into the sky like a firework, ready to implode. Which happened to be her M.O. most of the time. Take something and blow it all the way out of proportion. In a few days, she knew she’d look back and see it that way but for now, she just wants more of this bottled calm. Izzy took a breath, trying to center herself and bring her back to facing Ford completely. She’s not sure she can explain what’s happening exactly but Ford knows her and he knows that something’s wrong and instinctively, the man always tries to fix it for her.

“I just— I know we’re fixing things and I’m really not trying to screw this up,” she sighs, nodding at the man, indicating that she’s given up the idea of leaving and instead wants to come in but without saying anything. Izzy steps up to him, placing her head on his chest, the farthest that her height will reach, and reaching around his waist for a moment to hug him. The touch is something she feels like she’s dying for, something her lungs can breathe without. Honestly, she might’ve taken it from a person on the street but it feels that much better with it being Ford, that is, until she looks up. “I feel like I’m losing my shit, baby,” she shrugs, not sure how else to describe it besides it’s like she’s losing Ford all over again, except this time it’s Jeremiah. It’s not fair of her to expect Ford to let her lean on him again and it never was before. She knows that. Giving. Giving is something she’s been working on because time and time again, she’s receiving more love than people are receiving from her. At least— externally. Deep down, the love’s there. She just doesn’t know how to love the right way. Maybe she never would. 

It’s alright, she repeats in her head. It’s alright and Ford is here. It’s like a mantra that she can’t let go of or she’s going to end up exploding. Izzy’s eyes linger on his, brown to blue. “I just feel like everyone’s always fucking leaving. And I know—” I know that we are fixing this but it still fucking hurts. “And I’m scared,” she admits, something she hates to say aloud. Isobella Rojas wasn’t scared of anything. She wasn’t scared to stand up to people and she wasn’t afraid to tell people what she thought. But when it came to actually investing her time and her heart into someone, them leaving scared the shit out of her. When Ford had left, she screamed at Finn, desperate to know where he went. And when he came back with nothing, she cried. And screamed some more. And got so damn angry because he fucking knew. He knew that was the one thing that would hurt her the most. That would hurt them the most. Izzy pressed her lips together, before puffing them out again. “I just need you right now. If that’s okay?”

Something wasn’t right and Ford can sense it. Suddenly every protective instinct inside him kicks into high gear. Not even just entirely for Izzy, but for himself too. Even though they’ve both reached a point where they seem to be working through everything slowly but surely, Ford couldn’t quite get rid of the defensiveness he feels for himself in her presence sometimes. He feels the need to somehow be open but still shield himself all at once. This wasn’t exactly her own fault either, Ford would always be a defensive human and highly protective of himself no matter what the scenario. It’s why it was particularly difficult for him to reach any intimate point with any one person in a timely manner. Though he tries so hard, especially now, despite everything inside him screaming that he was going to get hurt again just as he did before.

Eyebrows furrow at her words, a wave of confusion crashing over him. “What makes you think you’re gonna screw things up..?” The blond asks hesitantly, blue eyes scanning over Izzy’s expression. Now he was really nervous, fearful she might have done something to upset Ford and not the other way around. It’s not like they were exclusive or anything. They’ve both been pretty open about their personal sexual and romantic affairs in the past, despite pangs of jealousy that came along with them. 

Ford guides both of them to the couch now, hoping this will somehow help Izzy collect her thoughts. He sits beside her but turns to face her. Ford’s expression remains both confused and concerned, unaware of what to do to better this moment. He’s always been a little helpless when it came to these things. For now, he just listens to her, hoping that lending an ear will suffice for the time being. When she says that she needs him, Ford can only assume one thing, really. She wanted to have sex. You couldn’t exactly blame him, that was usually how it worked between them. “I —” Ford starts, but once again tries to muster his thoughts in order to say the right words. “Don’t be scared, it’s okay.” Is what he finally settles on, looking to her again. “What happened? I mean, did someone do something? I don’t understand..” He sighs then, reaching out to take Izzy’s hand, “I’m here, I promise. Just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

What else was he supposed to do? The question was inevitable. The whole damn situation was inevitable. As Ford stood in front of the home he promised never to come back to, he contemplated every scenario. Especially the ones that didn’t include his wicked old mother. They all seem to pale in comparison, leaving him with nothing but a prison cell to call home in the near future, another love lost, and a world cursed by abandonment and misfortune once again.

So, he takes a step forward into the world he’s left behind, knocking on the door lightly. Marie always hated loud knockers.

Harlow took the brunt of the male’s weight upon her legs as he pressed himself further on top of her despite her protests. Legs pressed to her chest, she hit and clawed at him as best she could while screams tore at her throat. Ford was coming. All she had to do was hold the male off until then. Despite time passing by as it normally did, the brunette was sure it had stopped. Minutes felt like hours, the warmth wetness clung to her clothes, smeared across her own form and his. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” She screams, any movement of her legs was futile given his large form upon her. He’d pinned her in the corner, and while she held her own in a pentagon many times before, this feels more like a prey pressed into a corner. Hands search around for the sharp of mirror but she can only brush it with her fingertips. This was how it would end. Alone. No one to be notified. Fuck, she wasn’t even sure anyone would claim her body at the fucking morgue. She belonged to no one. Discarded and pushed aside by too many in the past. No family, no friends, no lover. “Please, stop! I didn’t do anything.”

Her energy had begun to subside, feeling the trembling of her form as it held the male off. It wouldn’t be long now, and it would all be….— Wide eyes peer up at the form that suddenly appears, grasping at the male above her to tear him off. Feet fall to the ground and a whimper slips past her lips when she catches the mess of blond hair and a furious azure gaze. “Ford,” the brunette whispers in a plea, using the side of the tub to pull herself up upon her feet. “We need to get out of here,” the woman speaks hurriedly, trembling legs marching towards him. Only when the clean cloth finds her hand that she hisses in pain, attention pulled down to her cut. Lithe fingers tighten around the fabric before closing her first around the now stained white cloth. 

The other hand slowly reaches out for him, fingers coiling around the material of his shirt, hoping to steer him through the front door. All they had to do was walk out, get on his bike and fucking leave. It was all she could see — until the smaller male steps in front of the opened door and kicks it shut. “Fuck,” she hisses in a panic. Wild eyes travel across the expanse of the room for any other option, though she was quickly deterred by the gun that rose to point at them. “I’m sorry, Ford. I shouldn’t have called you.” She whispers beneath her breath, feeling the brunt of guilt and fear cling to her chest. This was not his problem. He shouldn’t have been here.

Nevertheless, the brunette manages to move at the male’s side. It was her problem, and she couldn’t bare the thought of the male suffering any sort of consequence for her. Not him. Anyone but him. “Please, let him leave. He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Harlow began as her hands rose. “It’s a misunderstanding. He doesn’t know anything, and nor do I. We won’t say a fucking word and you won’t have to see us again. Please. Let’s just all walk away.” Her breathing came out rushed, vision blurred by unshed tears. 

“Ford. You have to leave, okay?” She practically begs then, turning to the male. “You’re going to let him go. He shouldn’t be here.”

A sickening grin wrapped around the gun wielding man’s face. “Shut the fuck up! You talk too fucking much——” 

Panic surged forward, and the worst escaped before she could stop them.

“We’re pregnant!” She yelled out, hand clutching her abdomen. “I’m three months pregnant. Please, don’t do this.”

Anger is the only thing pulsing through Ford now. It’s a familiar presence, a sensation he would know even in death. Even now, with Harlow’s pleas filling the air, they don’t quite break the protective barrier that his anger creates. The blond tries his best to lean into her voice and the way she reaches out, both literally and figuratively. But each moment begins to blur into the next, becoming a strange and out of focus nightmare of sorts. It’s almost like Ford has been torn from his own body, forced to watch everything happen from a hazy distance, completely useless. He hates this feeling and he hates the way his mind betrays him. 

With one hand still outstretched, his way of attempting to calm down the man before him, he turns to Harlow again, shaking his head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He says quietly, his tone sincere. If you listened closely, you would have been able to hear the barely-there fear that illusions itself as protection and vigor. In reality, he was as scared as her. There was nothing like a gun pointed at you to put some things into perspective. While Ford didn’t enjoy his own life as much as one person would, he was almost certain that he didn’t want to die. Not like this, anyway. Not here, not now.

That’s when it happens. The bomb. We’re pregnant! Before Ford can continue his bargains with the other man, his eyes go wide, unable to contain the knee-jerk reaction that rips through him. It grounds him again, sending his mind and soul plummetting back into his body. Three months pregnant. Three fucking months pregnant? Ford repeats the words in his head like a mantra, feeling every bit of panic within him that he claimed was under control come bubbling to the surface. He might have spilled and spewed if he wasn’t careful. 

He was speechless, unable to form any words. Like clockwork, that’s when the other man’s mouth begins to run again. He says something about not giving a shit that she was pregnant, all while flailing that pathetic looking gun in the air like it was something to be proud of. He goes on spewing various insults too, ones that make Ford’s blood boil. That same anger, the one Ford has always known, turns into something else. The beat of his heart pounds aggressively inside his chest, thumping so hard in his ears he might have thought someone had started pounding on the walls. “Shut your fucking mouth,” Ford says first, in a tone he’s never quite heard from himself.

The next moment is a flash, a fragment of mere seconds. It starts with a click, then the loudest sound he’s ever heard. The thumping of his heart simply pales in comparison. It rings through the air, earning that same ringing to cloud his eardrums. This guy fucking shot at them. At Harlow, to be more specific. It goes so fast that Ford can’t quite compute a damn thing. But the moment the bullet goes anywhere near her, Ford reaches for the pistol tucked into his pants, aims it directly towards the man in front of him and shoots. 

Between Harlow’s scream, the sound of the bullet firing, and the sight of blood splattering across the hotel wall, Ford is completely still. His arm is still outstretched, the gun now pointed at a wall decorated with blood. The man has fallen, dropped to the ground in just seconds. It’s a loud sound but not as loud as the gun, he bleeds into the carpet as Ford’s gaze looks down to him, unable to move anything but his eyes. 

After sudden silence, Ford drops his own gun, moving to sit on the edge of the hotel bed. He stares at the dead man lying on the ground for a couple more beats before looking to Harlow. The mother of his unborn child. Was he meant to see her as such now? Is that how it happens? Ford exhales deeply, some lackluster attempt at trying to collect himself. He looks to where the other man’s bullet landed, realizing that it didn’t even hit Harlow. It went right past her arm and into the wall connecting the bathroom and the room. “Harlow,” He finally says, breaking through the silence that cloaks them now like a wet blanket. “Are you —” Ford can’t even bring himself to say whatever it is he wants to say. If it were true, he doesn’t think he would have minded really. But in this light, it’s like he was the one who’s been shot. “Are you really pregnant?”

Before she can respond, he looks away, beginning to fully comprehend that there was a fucking dead man on the ground. “We have to leave.” He says, his words coming out quicker than he anticipated. Ford knows what he has to do now. Something he never thought he’d need to do in his entire existence on this planet. Right now, Ford’s priority was Harlow and the presumed baby in her stomach. Everything else he’ll have to deal with later. 

“I’m serious. We need to go. I’ll deal with this, I know someone.” Someone. Ford almost laughs. What an understatement. What was he meant to say? Oh, by the way, my mother is the most wicked evil bitch you’ll ever meet but she’s who you call when there’s blood on your hands and a dead man at your feet. “Harlow,” He says again, moving to stand. “Babe, we gotta go.”

@fcrdcollins​

Mistakes were made by those too confident in their skill, and Harlow was as cocky as they came. She’d been hired to do far made arduous many times before. It should have been easy. A simple distraction that provided her with enough time to do as needed on his computer. Unfortunately, his return was quicker than expected, and her hunched stance over his desk was suspicious. Much less that her hands were halfway inside its drawers. A lie slid past her lips with ease despite the sudden panic that clung to her chest, blocking out any sound as she excused herself to the bathroom. He wasn’t buying it, that much she understood from the sudden look of fury upon his features. 

Fuck. 

Trembling digits pulled at the phone in her pocket, clumsily finding the phone number of the only person who would answer. Surely a consequence of working tenfold to push everyone away, apart from a singular male. 

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up.

Internal dialogue spins in a loop at the forefront of her mind, clutching the device upon her ear in a white knuckled grip while her vital organ threatens to crack itself free of its ivory cage. With her back pressed to the door, Harlow can hear strings of curses from the male who recklessly begins to throw items across the room in his frenzied search to debunk her lie. He’d find it soon, she knew. A misplaced folder upon his computer would unravel it all.

A mere pause between rings forces the brunette forward, turning the faucet on albeit the cupped hand over her mouth. “Ford, — ford, listen.” A shaky exhale later, pausing only to ensure the male had not approached the bathroom door. “I fucked up, Ford. I’m in trouble and I didn’t know who else to call. I think he’s going to … — Can you come get me? I’m at the hotel right off the highway.” At the sound of a large thud against the door, the brunette cried out. “The one with the ugly fucking fountain.”

“What the fuck is taking so long? — Get the fuck out of here. I’m going to fucking break down this door, if you don’t ——— Who the fuck are you talking to?” With each word, the male’s voice rose in octave, fist landing upon the thin door that separated them. 

“I’m not talking to anyone,” Harlow cried out at the targeted male across the door before her voice lowered, returning to Ford. “Please, he’s going to kick the door down. He’s too big. I won’t be able….” The fist that punched through the door tore a scream from her mouth, forcing the brunette further into the small space. As her back found a full length mirror, she used her own fist to break its surface until she could pull a large shard from it. Crimson stained the floor at her feet, unbeknownst to her a deep cut upon her palm had gone undetected by her own pulsing adrenaline. “Roo — number seven———” 

As the door broke free beneath the targeted male’s weight, a scream echoed out throughout the bathroom moments before the device slid through her crimson stained hand and cracked upon the surface of the tiled floor.

“Help me! Someone pleas-—-—-”

Click.

For most people, good days weren’t hard to come by. Sure, everyone had their fair share of struggles. As well as a variety of different trials and tribulations. It’s all a part of human existence. But Ford, as he’s come to learn, was a particularly special case. He was borderline convinced that he was born stressed out, thrown into a world of chaos before he even had a say. He couldn’t exactly recall a time where he felt really good. Did people ever feel good? Did anyone ever feel completely whole? He wasn’t sure that even existed. Maybe in TV and movies.

But nowadays, he comes close. There’s this part of him that can taste a release from the prison that was his mind. It’s slow and gradual and not something that will happen overnight, but it sparks a new glimmer of hope within him that he hasn’t had in probably his entire life. For once, he feels close to okay. Maybe he didn’t need to be fueled by chaos forever, though there’s a very small piece of him that fears he may miss the danger one day. Sometimes, he already does. Missing when he would run and run and never look back. There was a certain level of self-destruction that always brought minor pleasure into his life. It was almost a little morbid and something he’s never fully touched on, but it was there regardless. 

When Harlow’s phonecall comes, Ford is outside cleaning his bike. It was a miracle that he even considered cleaning his bike, so when he actually does it’s a telltale sign that he’s actually in a pretty decent place. As usual, he thinks Harlow is calling for a night out or to see when his next big fight was. That was usually what their calls or messages consisted of. What he wasn’t expecting was her frantic tone and the fear-stricken desperation that oozes from each word she speaks. “Hold on —” Ford says, but is cut off by her speaking again. The blond does his best to collect his thoughts, as he feels as though they’ve suddenly been knocked out of his head and scattered onto the pavement for him to decipher and put back together. He swallows hard, the organ within his chest beginning to thump so loud he could hear the rhymic beats within his ears. “Stay where you are, you hear me? Stay where you are, I’m coming.”

Once he hangs up, he’s quick to get onto his bike. He doesn’t even put on his helmet, that’s the last thing he’s thinking of right now. He races towards the hotel, one he’s vaguely familiar with and has actually stayed in from time and time again. He arrives in no time, silently hoping that he’s not too late. While being in the club, he always had to expect every single option, even the ones that pain him. For a moment, he checks behind him, making sure his gun was still located where it always was, tucked within his pants.

He inches carefully towards room seven, one hand still hovering over his gun. The first thing that comes into view is a busted down door, a man hunched over and shoving Harlow. Every sense in Ford kicks in instantly, barrelling towards the scene and tearing the other man away. Ford was considerably larger than this man, as that was usually the case. He goes to swing at Ford but he’s quick to dodge it, plowing his own fist right into the other man’s cheek.

Once Ford thinks he’s got the other man dialed back and away from them, aiding to a bloody nose in the corner of the hotel room, he moves towards Harlow. He spots the blood immediately, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket to pluck out the handkerchief settled there, pressing it to her bleeding palm. That’s when a familiar click fills the air and Ford is quick to dart his gaze back towards the other man, who was now holding up a gun in their general direction, kicking the hotel room door shut with his foot. Ford raises one hand, “Whoa, man, it’s all good.” It obviously was not all good. “It doesn’t have to go there, not if it doesn’t have to...”

@fcrdcollins​

She should’ve waited to hear an explanation from Jeremiah himself but Izzy’s never been a patient person and she isn’t going to start now. Gen was back in town and she’s met her now. Isobella knows exactly who the Hell she is and how she’ll end up haunting her favorite place to drink. It’s like smearing it in her face that Gen is goddamn gorgeous. It’s dramatic, she knows, but she’s slowly watching control slip from her fingertips and behind control is Jeremiah. The irrational fear of losing him is the only thing that crosses her mind as she exits the bar that night, not nearly as drunk as she wanted to be. Hell, she’s sober by her account even if she had a few before she left. Heading out of the Dive, she isn’t sure where she’s going. She thinks about going home but an empty apartment is not the place for her right now, not as she feels herself spiraling. Ryder’s comes to mind next but since Adrian’s return, she’s attempted to spend less time at his place so that the pair can find some normalcy just between them. It’s not something that will last long but for now, she’s trying. 

But her feet keep moving and moving, opting out of taking a Lyft or an Uber because in the moment she doesn’t know where she’s going but when she finally arrives in front of Ford’s door, it’s not a shock to her. She’s upset and she doesn’t know where else to turn besides the comfort that she’s always known, a comfort that she’s missed. And maybe this time a comfort she won’t watch slip through her fingers when she refuses to admit that Ford is someone she cannot give up. He’s like the opioids she had craved so much. Izzy had gotten a taste, following his fight, a night spent in his arms, chatting about their separate lives, trying to make up for their lost time. He’d apologized for leaving, knowing that it’s a common fear both hold so near and dear, unable to let go for even a single moment. And even with her trust still frayed and hard to hold on with Ford, she knows he’s the only one that can understand her perfectly right now, if only because he’s already left her before. 

Izzy reaches a hand up, hesitating to knock on the door, knowing that she may very well knock and TJ could answer… or another woman or man… or Hell, Ford could answer and want nothing to do with the lost woman on his doorstep. She sighs, rubbing pink lips together before knocking twice on the door and stepping back from the door. Izzy almost says ‘Ford, please, it’s me,’ but it sounds sad and desperate in her mind so it’d sound worse on her tongue. She’s not even sure what she’s going to say— ‘Hey I’m sad because I’m getting left behind again and I need someone.’ Yeah, that would sound fucking good. ‘Hey Ford, I need you more than I let on and I’m sorry I’m shitty for that but can I come in?’ God, what the fuck was she even doing here? What in the actual fuck is she doing here? And that’s when she decides to turn from the door, ready to sprint into some nearby bushes and hope no one ever answered. 

Her heart stops her and turns her ass around just as the door opens. Immediately, the breath is taken out of her and she warily smiles at the man. “Sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t really think I was gonna end up here looking like an idiot.” And she feels like she looks like an idiot, even if she’d dressed for a night on the town, perfect hair and make-up ready for anything… except meeting Gen and changing her whole entire plan for the night. Tonight, she took a different kind of chance. “I just– Sorry, I’m having a rough night and I should go,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair and nodding to herself looking to turn around.

Truth be told, Ford feels relatively okay for the first time in quite a while. Maybe in his entire life. It’s not often that he finds a crawlspace within his mind that’s content and at ease. His mind is on fire almost constantly, spewing flames and endless discourse from the moment he wakes up to the second his head hits his pillow. But today, and the last week or so, he feels calmer. More at ease. It’s obviously a welcomed feeling. He hasn’t fought in a few days either which only adds to his sudden ease. He’s been silently eyeing a position at the gym, hoping to once and for all throw in the towel when it comes to underground fighting.

Patching things up with Izzy was another thing that’s brought newfound calm into his life. While he wasn’t sure where they stood exactly, where they were now was much better than where they were previously. He’d rather be here, figuring shit out, than lost within that vast unknown they found themselves in for so long. Maybe one day in the near future they’ll finally come to terms with whatever’s going on inside their heads for one another. It was a nice thought and for once Ford feels open to exploring that other great unknown.

He almost ignores the knocking at the door, suspecting it’s his and TJ’s nosy neighbor who’s constantly asking for sugar and if they’re a couple or not. No matter how many times Ford and TJ say no, she still doesn’t believe them. But once he hears it again, he’s quick to stand, tossing the TV remote back onto the couch as he does so. At first, he’s more than happy to see Izzy, ready to invite her inside before her words break through the noise. Her tone alarms him a little, his sudden ease turning into concern. Like the worrisome man he was, he pokes his head out of the doorway, looking around the hallway before them. You could never be too careful, especially with the life he leads. “Hey, why would you say that?” Ford asks, his eyebrows knitting together. “Stop, you don’t look like an idiot. What happened?” For a moment, he’s almost scared he might have done something without realizing it. But when he can’t recall anything, he comes to terms with the fact that her saddened mood couldn’t have been his doing. 

With that, the blond reaches to touch her arm, nodding towards the inside of his apartment. “You don’t have to go. Come in, seriously. What’s going on?” He smiles a little, hoping it’ll lighten the mood a bit and help her feel a little better. “It’s alright, Iz.”