hold onto me

He wasn’t the first to question her use of “babe,” and she responded quickly to try to make it less weird if in fact it was weird to him. “Sorry… Babe’s sort of a catch-all. I call everyone that. Even called my brother that from time to time, though I’m not sure what’s weirder, callin’ your brother that or a stranger.” Looking him over, she thought he was kind of a babe, super cute even if he looked a tiny bit wind-blown. The wind was messing up everyone’s hair that day, Niamh’s included, but she’d been able to pull it back in a hair net while she worked in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know who bumped who. Figured it could’ve just as easily been me. I’m clumsy that way.” He was still shaking, and she wondered what could be making him so nervous. Was it her? Should she stop talking to him? Niamh was adept at this whole “meeting new people” thing yet, not since leaving Second Hope. She’d gained any people skills she had in that place, and she sometimes wondered if she’d left them behind there as well. Hard as she tried, she hadn’t really gotten to know anyone in this town yet, not even co-workers, though so many of them worked with customers, and she was usually in the back.

“That’s a cool name… Jackson. Never met a Jackson before. Just a Jack, but that wasn’t short for anything.” She offered a smile and her own name in return. “I’m Niamh. Reed. New to Lima, so… I really just wanted to be able to say I’d met someone besides me roommate.” Looking back toward the counter, she added, “And my co-workers. Not that I know them.” As an afterthought and mostly to herself, she muttered, “Maybe I should try to get to know them.”

“Oh — it’s alright. It just... Caught me off guard.” He ran his hand across the back of his head, fluffing his already fluffed hair. It was getting longer — he was in desperate need of a haircut. “I don’t think it’s... that weird? Or weird at all, really. I’m just not really used to anyone calling me ‘babe’ so it was a little odd at first, but I don’t really think it’s odd? If that makes sense?” He was rambling and he knew it. But he was nervous. She was making him nervous — not in the bad way, but in the way that a cute girl was talking to him and wasn’t about to douse him in slushy for accidentally bumping into her. 

“My mom said it’s ‘unique’,” He added, running his tongue over his lips. “If only she knew just how ‘unique’ I’d end up being.” He chuckled dryly; the humor more for himself than for Niamh. He took a deep breath, trying to get his hands back to the usual shakiness that they held all the time. Because if he could get himself to be that calm, then maybe this event would turnaround. “Well... now you can definitely say that you’ve met someone besides your roommate and co-workers? I don’t really talk to mine all that often, either... I’m not really good at talking.” 

I’m addicted to zombie movies. Games too, but I mostly just keep playing the same zombie flash games over and over again online. I don’t know how prepared they’ve made me for the reality, but if I ever get stuck in a mall, I know what to do.

I mean... I wouldn’t say a lot? Only because in zombie games you can respawn and start over and stuff. I think the game that’s the most accurate is the Walking Dead TellTale game? But that’s based off the television show and the comic, so who really knows how accurate those are. 

The tiny ginger had been settling in about as comfortably as she could since moving to Lima, a town that hadn’t even been on her radar before meeting Markus. She thought she might like it there, a town so charming and small compared to where she’d grown up, and small suited someone as minuscule as she both looked and often felt.

She even liked her job, one she’d found a lot quicker than she’d thought she would. When she’d applied to The Lima Bean, Niamh figured there was no way she’d get an interview. And when she showed up for her interview, tray of freshly baked cookies in her hand, she’d figured there was no way she’d get a job. But they’d eaten the cookies, asked for the recipe, a recipe which she’d refused to give them. Perhaps they’d hired her just for the cookies, but she was happy to be paid to bake them for customers now.

Niamh was on a break, scooping up a small coffee and a plate with a few of those cookies fresh out of the oven and making her way out to the floor. She’d forgotten to take her apron off, and the flour that dusted it probably made her look a bit of a mess, but she didn’t especially care. A year ago, Niamh couldn’t leave the room she’d called home at Second Hope, and now she was out in the world, with a proper job and maybe something like a proper life. The apron was a badge of honor as far as she was concerned.

And then someone bumped into her. Or she bumped into them. She couldn’t be sure, and he looked so sorry that it had happened that it didn’t really matter. “Oh, it’s alright, babe… No problem at all. You alright?” His hands were trembling and it seemed like maybe he wasn’t. She looked down to spot a few specks of coffee on her apron and smiled. “You did, but it’s not a worry… Aprons are good for catchin’ messes.” Trying to meet his eyes, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Oh — I...” He paused, running his tongue over his lips nervously. “B-Babe?” Why had she called him babe? He didn’t look “babe-like” by anyone’s standards — at least, that’s what he assumed. His hair was a mess, wind-swept thanks to the walk from the school, the zip-up sweatshirt tucked under his heavier jacket and his hands that still wouldn’t stop shaking. He let out a shaky breath, holding one hand over the top of his cup to hopefully prevent it from spilling out more. 

“I’m — I’m alright.” He knew he shouldn’t have been, but he was still hung up on the casual use of the word “babe” being thrown around. “I’m the one who bumped into you — why wouldn’t I be alright?” He knew she saw him shaking. Who couldn’t see the way his hands so violently shook as if he was human vibrator? He just hoped that she wouldn’t point it out — the simple action would darken the blush forming on his cheeks from his slip up. 

“Uh... Jackson — my name, I mean. Jackson. Lopez-Pierce.” Why had she asked his name? Was she going to tell his parents? The thought sent another chill down his back — he didn’t think he had done anything wrong — but maybe, maybe she was just being nice. He forced himself to take a deep breath to try and calm down. He couldn’t panic; not in the middle of the Lima Bean. 

See there? You know what to do. If there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, you better be ready for me to tag along with you. You’ve got it figured out.

Oh! That’s totally alright. I like to take pride in my preparedness for the zombie apocalypse... I’ve seen too many movies and played too many zombie games to know that you should always be prepared for it. It could come at any moment. 

He let out a sigh as he stepped through the door of the Lima Bean, the usual ding! of the bell above him ringing out. He always stopped by after school; it was one of the few locations that weren’t really occupied by the neanderthals of McKinley High when it came to an after-school snack. A hipster’s paradise, some would say. Not that he would call himself a hipster — he didn’t really know what clique he’d fall into. 

Waiting in line, he tried his best not to shift in place out of habit. It comforted him, usually, but today it didn’t help; only shifted his backpack against the small bruise forming on his shoulder blade thanks to being shoved in the lockers earlier that morning. Luckily, it was one that wouldn’t be spotted by his mothers. He liked wearing a shirt, anyways. 

With his usual coffee order now in hand — an iced macchiato with two pumps of hazeulnut — he turned, ready to find a secluded place in the back where he could study in peace and not be bothered by anyone who may recognize him, but his lack of balance caused him to turn right into someone. “Oh — I’m sorry,” He stammered, eyes falling to the ground. Avoid eye contact. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” His hands started shaking more; evident by the few falling drops of cold coffee that had spilled from his cup due to the bump. “I didn’t get any on you — did I?”

There are water treatment plants near every city, I suspect. When people have looted stores and no one can find matches anymore, you’ll be the guy who knows how to keep the fires going. Brilliant plan.

Oh yeah... I mean, I guess. Granted, there’s a possibility that someone may end up staying in the water treatment plant, just for the sake of water. Treated or not, water is water. And it’d be a shelter. All you’d really have to worry about is like... food. 

Headcanons for Jacky Boy !

“Everyone deserves to be happy, Jacky. Even the assholes in the world. But just because we all deserve that doesn’t mean we all always get it. Besides, I don’t need Dylan to be happy. Would I be happier with him? Of course. But I am happy. ‘The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things.’ Henry Ward Beecher, smart man.” Brenton pushed himself completely off of the bed, ready to move on from things that were troubling his mind and instead focusing on positive vibes.

“Thank you for letting me ramble at you, though. Seriously. My therapist is out of town for the week and I couldn’t make myself stop thinking.” He suddenly grabbed Jackson’s hand and pulled him out of the chair, wrapping his arms tightly around his little brother in a bear hug. “I love you, you’re my favorite little brother.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of Jackson’s head before pulling away with a grin. “Now, what do you say we stop being serious? I’ll take a break from my mind, you take a break from your homework, and we’ll get stoned and watch a stupid movie on Netflix.”

He sighed, knowing that Brenton was simply pushing away from the conversation to avoid feeling; he just hoped that his brother would come to him when he eventually wanted to talk. As much as he wanted to, he knew it was better not to push when Brenton was convincing himself of something. Even if Jackson didn’t believe it. “Yeah... Yeah okay.” He replied, awkwardly responding back with the hug. He was never the best with physical contact. He always felt weird; like he didn’t know where to put his hands and what was deemed “acceptable”. 

JAMIE: do you want me to?

JAMIE: i can

JAMIE: i can be your knight in shining armor

JAMIE: or rather your knight in a kick-ass cheerios uniform

JAMIE: i'd take a slushie for you any day 💖

JACK: oh no

JACK: you don't have to

JACK: I was just kidding

JAMIE: i'd want nothing more than to take you to lunch, even if you'd really be the only snack that day 😋

JAMIE: lol i'm always sweet, jackson. and i don't like seeing some assholes get you down because you have a cute smile. i wanna see it more often.

JACK: don’t do that you’re going to make me blush [ unsent ]

JACK: oh, ah, that’s nice

JAMIE: you don't gotta thank me at all!!

JAMIE: or if you really did wanna, you would let me take you out for lunch ☺️

JAMIE: i always try to help out cute guys in need

JAMIE: bonus if they're into the stars and cosmos and oh, hey -- look at that, you are!

JACK: you’d really want to take me to lunch?

JACK: oh wow

JACK: I… don’t think I ever actually thanked you for helping me the other day

Brenton felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest at the thought of telling Dylan about his feelings for him. They’d joked before about their marriage becoming monogamous, and they had definitely told each other that they loved one another – but Brenton was sure it was all just friendly stuff from Dylan. That it didn’t mean anything. Because if it all did, then why had they been married for two years but never actually together? And if Brenton said something to Dylan, and things got awkward – what if Dylan left? Brenton couldn’t take that.

“What if I tell him that and it does ruin things, though?” Brenton asked softly, looking back up at the ceiling, furrowing his brow. “Dylan is – he’s really special. I’ve loved people before but I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love. He makes me happy in this way that – that is so new to me. I love being a happy person. I love smiling and making others smile and sending out positive vibes. But when I’m around him… it’s like everything is so much more intense, you know? Without him, I’m a single flower, or the sun shining after a rainstorm. But with him, I’m a whole field of flowers, the rainbow after a rainstorm. I feel like – like more when I’m with him.”

“And I want things with him. I want everything with him. But just because we hook up and stuff doesn’t mean he wants everything with me, too. And if I told him how I felt and he didn’t feel the same? What if he got so weirded out that he – that he left? He’s far too important for me – one of my top five – and I can’t imagine not having him around. I don’t –” Just the thought of that happening caused tears to prickle in his eyes, which he quickly rubbed at. “I don’t deal with people leaving very well. Not people I care this much for. Because in my experience, they don’t tend to come back.“

Brenton took a deep breath, sitting up on the bed. “I don’t know, ignore me, I’m being stupid. I’m – I’m way too into my head about all this.” He ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “I need to chill out. Hey, want to come over and smoke some weed?” He raised his eyebrows, grin forming upon his lips.

He let his brother ramble on, really listening to his words. And really, it made him think. Because, if Brenton really felt this way about Dylan, Brenton deserved to be happy. And from what Jackson could see, from his perspective as the little brother, Dylan really made Brenton happy. He didn’t have to be told that to see it. He fiddled with his hands, looking down at them as they interlocked and released from each other  — his glasses slipping from his face only to be pushed back up his nose with a single finger on the bridge. “Uh — sure,” He stammered a moment, “But can I say something first?” He didn’t smoke weed often, but when he did, it was hard for him to form coherent thoughts — he wanted to say something about this before that. 

He chewed his lip, looking everywhere in the room before he looked back at Brenton. “I think... I think that he does like you, Bren. I don’t know if it’s love — I don’t know a lot about that. But I like to think I know at least something thanks to the movies I’ve seen and the way mom looks at Mami. If he’s been around for this long... why do you think that you saying something like that would make you leave? If he’s okay with the marriage, if he’s okay with being around you like that  — why would he even want to leave? You’re a great guy, and you deserve to be happy.” 

He knew he had rambled on himself; that he had let his extensive need to actually speak to people — something he had, without a doubt, inherited from Brittany — out to play, but it needed to be said. Because while Jackson wasn’t the most social; wasn’t the greatest at using simple words that weren’t scientific — he was, in fact, an observer. 

Looking over at Jackson and raising his eyebrows, Brenton found himself letting his brother’s words sink in. It really wasn’t surprising that it was Brenton, actually. He was always the outgoing one, the one who loved love and found himself in the arms of others quite frequently. He wouldn’t seriously call himself a slut, really, but he was sure other people had. Besides the sex, he was open with affection and open with caring for others. The fact that he happened to fall for Dylan was just par for the course, really.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he finally stated, letting out a small laugh. “It’s not surprising. But who’s to say that one of us had to fall for the other? We’re not some cliche romantic comedy, Jacky. We never got divorced because it just didn’t seem important. We’ve been best friends for years, what was the harm? Except now… now I’m in love with my best friend, and I’m not sure if he feels the same way. It’s hard to tell, you know? We’ve always hooked up, made out, cuddled, freely gave affection to each other – but we’ve never gone out and called it a date or – or talked about actually being together. The line is so blurred with us that I don’t even really know how he views me. And what if I bring it up and he doesn’t think of me that way? Friendship ruined. It’s just so – it’s so confusing. You’re the smart one, what do you think I should do?”

Jackson shrugged, swaying back and forth in the rotating chair. He never really knew a lot about love, or relationships. He’d never been in one; never even been kissed. He liked to believe that he knew at least something about relationships, just in case the opportunity came for him, but he really didn’t know a lot about it. “I think...” He sighed, chewing his lip as he thought. What was the harm in Brenton actually talking to Dylan? “If he’s really your friend, I think he wouldn’t want to damage the friendship whether feelings were involved or not. Sure... You guys may need a little space, but...” 

Relationships were complicated. That much Jackson knew. He had seen his brothers go through relationships, seen the bickering that happened on rare occasions with their moms. Heard of breakups and hookups around the school between fellow peers. How one person cheated, but the one being cheated on didn’t leave the relationship. But he didn’t think any of that was the case with Brenton and Dylan. “If he’s willing to hook up with you, kiss you, give you affection —what’s the harm in telling him you want to live up to the label you gave yourselves when drunk?”

Turning around the corner of the hallway, with his books pressed to his clean and pristine Cheerios uniform, Jamie wouldn’t have looked up from his phone had it not been for the loud, taunting tone he caught from the football players, who were in the middle of their ridiculing of some poor, unsuspecting person they deemed far below them in the food chain. With Big Gulp red slushies in their hands, he knew exactly where it was heading, and even if he had wanted to step in, he wouldn’t have made it on time to stop them from taking their aim and releasing a freezing cold jolt to reality that this was as good as high school was going to get for whoever was on the opposite end. 

They stepped back and high-fived one another victoriously, surely speaking in what could only be assumed as caveman grunts that no one else but them could understand – Jamie definitely didn’t try to make any sense of it, not when he caught the person who was now covered from head to toe in the sticky red slushie that made his clothes cling to his figure. 

Oh, it was him. 

Jamie instinctively stepped forward when he saw it was Jackson, a boy he didn’t know all too well but was surely trying to get to know; however, he didn’t get a chance to catch up to him before the boy made a beeline towards the nearest restroom, likely going to clean himself up. He didn’t hesitate to go after him, pushing the door of the bathroom open before he quietly approached him, waving his hand as a way to note him of his presence. “I come in peace,” Jamie said, stepping closer and closer until he was right beside him. “Those boys are jerks. Probably mad they’re not as cute as you.” He shrugged and reached forward to take his glasses, running them under the sink to rid them of the sticky residue before he wiped them down with his shirt – even if it meant his uniform wouldn’t be as spotless as he wanted it to be, but he would deal with the repercussions from Coach Scarlett later. 

With a smile, he placed them back on him, pushing them gently up the bridge of his nose. “You can see. Now let’s work on the rest of you, babe.” 

@jvcksonfrcst

Jackson hated the jocks of the high school. They always held their head high; had a higher stance on the social ladder and never failed to remind Jackson that he wasn’t even on the ladder. Day in and day out, they repeatedly taunted and tormented him to no avail. It got to the point that he didn’t even bother listening to them, already knowing what they were going to say. There wasn’t a point in listening to them, anyways. Not when it was the same shit every single time. They picked on him for everything — from his hair, to his glasses, to his lanky figure, to the fact that he was the youngest son of what was once upon a time McKinley’s power cheerleading couple and, according to them, he didn’t have a single athletic bone in his body. He always tried not to believe them. 

The slushy had hit him hard. Much like always; the corn syrup trickled down his bangs and landed in his eyes, bringing the consistent sting that he had grown used to. He let out a shaky sigh, mentally blocking out the laughter that rang through the halls as the red dye dripped off his clothes and onto the floor, creating a puddle that the janitor would hate him for having to clean up later. Same old McKinley, it seemed. 

The bathroom was his safe haven. It always was. Usually he’d prefer the one in the science hall on the second floor; it was rarely ever used after the incident two years prior where, low and behold, Jackson himself had accidentally created a chemical that ate through his clothes and was rushed to the bathroom to rinse off as quickly as possible before he was taken to the hospital. The chemical had eaten through one of the sinks, and McKinley never bothered to have it fixed. From that point it was only used for couples who wanted an escape to make out in. But he didn’t have the chance to get to that one that time. The dye stung his eyes; the cold shook him to his core. So the nearest one would have had to do. 

“You startled me,” He admitted softly, looking over at Jamie. He hadn’t heard the boy come in; the waving had caused him to jump. He swallowed, the lump in his throat forming as Jamie carefully took off his glasses. And he watched with a blush on his cheeks so red that it matched the staining dye as the boy he admired rinsed off his glasses. Jamie had always been nice to him. Kind; unlike the other cheerleaders. Jackson didn’t know him well, but that never really seemed to matter. 

“I...” He trailed off, frozen in place for a moment before a chill ran down his back from a dripping piece of frozen slush. “Spare clothes — I don’t have any.” He admitted softly, his eyes trailing to the floor as he shook his head. His other spares that he kept in his locker had gotten dirty the day before; he hadn’t had the chance that morning to grab a clean set. He felt embarrassed; here Jamie was — a cheerleader, cute. Someone people admired and were attracted to. And there Jackson was; soaked in red slush in the middle of a bathroom. A nobody at best, with no clean clothes to change into. “I didn’t have the chance to grab a set this morning.”

Walking through the front door of his moms’ house, Brenton looked around, raising his eyebrows. “Knock knock!” he yelled out, announcing his presence. A voice came from the kitchen, Santana calling out a greeting, and Brenton grinned widely, following the voice. Upon walking into the room, he gave his mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Hey. Is Jackson around? Manny’s busy and I need a brother to tell me I’m an idiot.” Santana let out a small chuckle, and directed Brenton towards Jackson’s room. With a nod, Brenton set off towards his little brother’s room.

Standing outside the door, Brenton knocked a couple times quickly, before knocking once, and then a couple times quickly again. “Yo, Jacky! Can I come in?” He wanted for affirmation, before opening the door. He immediately walked over to his brother’s bed, falling down on it and staring up at the ceiling. “I have a problem. I think I’m in love with my husband.” He blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair.

He had been working on homework; the first few weeks back were always tedious but he took pride in his advanced classes. At the rate he was going, it wasn’t unlikely that there was the possibility of him potentially graduating early. But with that possibility came more work, and it was rare that he really found himself outside of his room; outside of studying. So when he heard Brenton ask to enter his room, he took it as a gentle reminder that he too needed to take breaks.

He spun in his desk chair, an eyebrow raised as he looked over at his brother. “Uh... Isn’t that the point?” He asked, setting down his pen and folding his hands in his lap. His posture was always precise; something he took pride in. “I know it’s not... technical, or anything, but without a divorce it was almost inevitable that one of you were going to fall for the other. And it doesn’t surprise me that it was you.” He stated, for once in his life hating his blunt tongue. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally offend his own brother. 

Dude, I ain’t gonna lie to you – sometimes that big brain of yours scares me. All this knowledge in the wrong hands could lead to some wicked stuff. Just promise me you’re not secretly some sort arsonist-in-the-making, so I don’t have to put on my Big Brother Pants and give you some boring ass lecture about how only you can stop forest fires or whatever. 

Oh no – no. It’s just for scientific purposes. Something cool to play around with in the lab and learn about what chemicals react with what to cause an ignition. Besides? What would I have to burn? Mom’s curtains? Mami would kill me.