the smell of my breath

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you hid behind a nickname that no one had known you by since high school, lars put in his whole name and an age. that was what got your attention as soon as you saw his profile under the "online singles!"

his introduction wasn't the creepy and pervy one you had seen in other profiles. under the "what you're looking for" prompt, he had simply written a "someone to talk to," and under his hobbies, he only had two listed: chopping wood and going to church.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ after seeing his username go online for a few days, you finally decided to send him a message. worst case scenario, he ends up being a bit creepy as well, and you block him. your first message was simple and casual, just a "hiiii :)" that got sent and left on read in just two seconds. and he left you on read for so long that you thought that he'd never reply, but he did.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ a simple conversation sparked out of that. a spark that turned into your daily chat, where you'd usually vent about your day and he'd answer small but meaningful platitudes, or where you'd end up asking him how church went and he'd tell you the topics of that sunday's sermon. you weren't even fully religious, but you found yourself warming up every time that he told you about his favorite part in service.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you liked lars. in a "when something weird happens to me, he's the first person I want to tell" kind of way. he was charming, he was gentle even through texts. he apologized whenever he thought that what he said was wrong, and when you reassured him, he apologized again. and you wanted him to like you, too, even without having seen his face.

it was a great day. you had woken up early, you liked your outfit and your makeup for that day. in fewer words, you felt pretty. so you decided to send him a selfie. a simple picture of your face and part of the upper half of your outfit, captioned with a simple "hi ♡"

then he didn't reply. he saw the picture and it was radio silent for hours. then those hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and so on. you were absolutely devastated.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ lars didn't mean to ghost you. the second his eyes met yours, his face flushed so hard he felt like he was on fire, and he had to fumble to close the tab before dropping his face in his hands.

the sight of you, your actual face, made everything feel more real. you were an actual person, a person who spent her days speaking to him. those lips that he had barely glanced to had formed smiles thanks to the things he said, those eyes had spent days reading the things he had to share, things he hadn't deemed important.

he had no idea what to say, so he decided to give it a few hours. then he couldn't find the right words, so he spent days staring at the picture for seconds before he had to blink and focus on something else.

after a week, responding seemed worse than anything else. so he just didn't do it.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the memory lingered in the back of your mind, even six months later. you didn't want to dwell much on it because, well, it was online dating. that kind of thing never worked, no matter how charming larslindstrom27 could be. and he was charming. you could still make yourself smile at the memory of his awkward messages if your mind drifted back far enough.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you weren't planning to move. it's just that the company you worked at was starting a new branch in a small town in minnesota, and, well, you were a sucker for small towns. plus, they paid all the expenses and would upgrade your pay.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you moved into a small house in town. it was across from a married couple, gus and karin. in your first week there, the first one you met was karin, who waddled outside the house to pick up her mail just as you were about to leave for work. the two of you exchanged names and greetings for a few days before she invited you for dinner to welcome you to town, as she said. you accepted without much thought. she was a nice lady. It would've felt wrong to say no.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the day of the dinner, you brought a tupperware of baked cookies and knocked on her front door, which was opened just seconds later. "oh, hi! the stew is almost done. come in, come in." the warm voice of karin said immediately, her hand gesturing for you to come inside before closing the door behind you.

"thanks for inviting me, I brought cookies." you said, lifting the tupperware for her to see.

"oh, that's lovely! thank you! I'll bring them out for dessert." she said, taking the tupperware from you with gentle hands. "I think my brother-in-law will be joining us. I hope you don't mind. he's a sweetheart."

"that's okay. the more the merrier, right?"

this got a chuckle out of karin, and she nodded before gesturing to the dining table. "go, take a seat."

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the moment that gus opened the back door for lars, he could hear the sound of karin chatting with someone in one of the other rooms. the two voices filled the house with mindless conversation, talking about karin's baby and how the pregnancy was treating her.

"they've been like this for a while." gus told him, stepping aside so lars could come in.

lars gave him a tight smile that hid his upper lip under his mustache but didn't say anything. he just stepped inside the house and stood there for a few seconds.

he closed and opened his fists rhythmically for a second or two before stepping towards the source of the noise before stopping dead in his tracks.

there it was. the same face that had followed him for months but now in gus and karin's house. the same eyes that he had stared into for days, even if it was merely through a photograph. the same lips that he had been bold enough to trace through a screen just once.

his eyes closed in a harsh blink, and his breathing turned shallow, and before gus could say anything, he was already running out the back door and straight to his garage again.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ after that, lars looked at you through the window in his door. he followed your routine quietly, just to make sure that he wouldn't bump into you in the grocery store.

his blue eyes followed your retreating figure as you walked out of your house, probably to go to the market you visited. but for a second, your eyes went directly towards the window, like you had finally felt the weight of his gaze. lars scrambled back, only feeling calm once his back was pressed against the cold wall.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you had run out of milk before your mandatory weekly grocery run, which meant that you had to make a quick trip after work just to make sure that you could have your cereal next morning.

you made your way over to the dairy aisle, next to the produce where lars was standing very, very stiffly at your newfound presence.

he tried to make a clean run for it, he really did, but as he stepped back, he managed to stumble on the apples and make some of them fall off.

the noise made you turn your head back only to find lars scrambling to pick up the apples quickly, before you crouched down and started helping him. "you okay?" you asked, looking up, but you didn't find him there. lars was already running through the front doors.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ to make it worse for him, you and karin had become friends. he had to see you cross the street every week, probably to talk to karin over tea and cookies while he was out there wondering when would be the moment that you found out who he was.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you were sitting in karin's couch, sipping a cup of chamomile tea as she sat across from you, more focused on the cookies than the tea.

"you're single, right?" she suddenly asked, holding a bitten cookie in one hand as she looked at you.

"yeah. why do you ask?" you replied, putting the cup down.

"well…" karin started, shifting in her seat to straighten up. "you know gus has a brother. and I… well, he's too lonely. I just want him to meet someone. and I think that he'd like you and that you would like him."

"so you want to set me up with your brother-in-law?" you clarified, raising your eyebrows.

"a little. I promise that he's a sweetheart. you'll like him." karin immediately rushed to say, causing you to let out a deep sigh.

you stayed silent for a few seconds, absently scratching your eyebrow with your thumb before nodding. "sure. what can I lose?"

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ next friday, you find yourself in a diner. karin hadn't even given you his name in her excitement, she just said: "he has a mustache and looks like a giant teddy bear."

as you sat there on the bar, you were almost sure that he wouldn't show. you had been there for almost thirty minutes, and the milkshake you ordered was almost completely finished. and part of you was wondering if maybe he had already come and gone, because how were you supposed to know which guy with a mustache she was talking about? half of minnesota had mustaches.

you were about to get up and leave when the bell above the door signaled another customer, and as soon as you turned your head, you saw him. the guy with the mustache who looked like a giant teddy bear.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ lars hadn't come in there for a date. he had been sent by karin because she had a craving for the waffles that this place made, so now he was standing in the entrance of the diner, his fists clenching and unclenching as he prepared himself to order said waffles.

that's when you suddenly appeared in his vision camp.

"you're gus' brother, right?" you asked, your hands hidden in your pockets as you looked at him.

his wires malfunctioned for a second, and he blinked harshly once, then twice, his heart immediately rushing as his eyes looked at your face once before moving away.

then, he tried to walk past you. "sorry, I have to-" he said, heading towards the register instead.

you watched him step back and let out a deep sigh, your shoulders slumping as the pretended confidence slipped away from your shoulders as he walked away. "cool." you muttered.

you lingered in the same place you were standing in for a few seconds, another deep sigh leaving your lips before you went back to your milkshake.

meanwhile, lars, he was a mess. he didn’t know what to do. he could mend his mistakes, but what if while doing that, he messed up again, or what if he said something even worse? what if this would make you hate him properly?

he blinked harshly and kept his eyes shut closed for a few seconds before he found the strength in some part of his soul and walked towards you again.

he didn't sit next to you, he stood by your side, finding the words somewhere in his chest before he cleared his throat to get your attention. "you looked very pretty. in your picture." he said.

you, who had turned your head to look at him, frowned as you tried to understand what he was talking about before your mind finally clicked. "lars?" you said, your voice sounding more hesitant than anything.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ you were a big part of his public image. you, the compassionate wife who always stood by his side during his media appearances and his speeches. you were practically the american dream in a wife.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ the truth is that the two of you didn't even share political views. there had been more than once instance when, in the middle of one of his public speeches, you had to turn your head to the opposite side to hide the way that you rolled your eyes while he poured his heart out in a speech about the importance of protecting the women from the dangers of modern society.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ you were young and dumb when you married him, and twenty years back, when you both were in your teen years, he was actually charming. he just got tainted at some point.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ the marriage had started dying down since he started his career in politics and started making pretty obvious what his intentions were. but even then, the memories of the romance you shared made you stay.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ the first time you started suspecting that he was cheating was somewhat stereotypical. it was after he called and let you know that he would be late, but the moment he laid on his side of the mattress, the most sickeningly sweet aroma of perfume abused your nostrils. he might have changed a lot since he chose his career, but you were sure that he still loved his sandal cologne.

after that, smaller details became huge in your eyes. a strand of hair in his coat that definitely didn't match your color, a stain in his shirt collar that looked suspiciously like the one a lipstick would leave, late night calls that ended as soon as you called out for him.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ "what if you hire a private investigator?" your friend asked, the almost empty wine glass resting on her hand as you reached for yours.

"what do I need one for? I already know what's going on. he's sleeping with someone else, probably his secretary." you replied, taking the wine bottle to fill both of your glasses.

"I'm just saying. if you have proof, you can take everything he has. isn't he always talking about how important traditional family is? I assure you, adultery isn't part of that." your movements came to a stop as she talked, the wine bottle coming back to its place as you leaned back against your seat.

your friend, pleased that you were finally listening to her, reached into her purse. "I know this agency. they're… weird, but they get the job done. somehow." she said, taking out a pen and a piece of paper to scribble something down on it and hand it to you.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ the nice guys agency didn't even have an actual office. this was a small, cramped room with boxes and a desk in the same place as a woman who offered you to read your faith three times already. you were close to saying yes.

you were sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the desk with your back facing the door when you finally heard someone coming in and then bumping into your seat.

"sorry, sorry!" a masculine voice said, and the strong scent of whiskey immediately hit you, causing your eyebrows to frown as he slid into the seat across from you, keeping the desk between you.

without asking, he took out a cigarette from his pack and lit it up, taking a drag that he exhaled almost right in your face. "so. what's the mystery?" he asked.

"my husband is cheating on me," you started, watching the way that he moved to write down what you were saying. "cheating… husband…" he muttered under his breath as he wrote. "that is no good."

"I need proof of that." you continued.

"well, that can definitely be arranged, doll." holland replied simply. healy would have a lot of things to say about it because, apparently, they had decided to discuss the details of a case before they agreed to take it. but healy couldn't see what he had right in front of him.

holland looked down at his very, very short notes before he took another drag of his cigarette, letting the silence linger between you. it was a business technique, he had read it in a magazine. "our prices aren't cheap, though." he warned you. "but I'm sure that we can-"

you interrupted him by shaking your head, already taking out your purse and your checkbook, writing down a check for five thousand dollars before you placed it in the desk between you. "this should be enough for a week. I want pictures by then."

and holland? well, his eyes shined as soon as he saw the amount. "absolutely! pictures, videos, everything."

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ healy wasn't happy about it.

"i don't want to investigate domestic disputes!" he said when holland happily informed him of their new job, standing across from a very relaxed march who had his feet propped up on the desk and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"you are not listening to me!" holland scrambled to grab the check again, shoving it in healy's face. "you see that? the five with the three zeros next to it? that's for a week! just one week! imagine how much we can get out of this!"

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ a car was parked just outside the building of your husband's office. holland was sitting there with his maroon sunglasses on, a newspaper covering his face. he was reading the comic lines, snorting at a particularly stupid line of garfield when healy shoved his shoulder.

"what-"

"that's him. that's him, march, snap the picture!"

"yeah, yeah!" he said, reaching out into the backseat to pat the cushions to look for the camera.

"march, hurry up!"

"I'm doing that!" he hissed, but the only thing he could find was holly's notebook and a magazine he certainly hadn't bought her.

there was no camera to find. his hands were empty, and healy was still cursing him, and the senator had already climbed into his car by this point.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ a week later, holland had no pictures. or videos. or whatever the "everything" that he promised was. he was standing in the living room of your house, his hands on his hips as he looked around the fancy decor of the house.

you stepped out of the room kitchen and handed him the glass of water he had asked for. you were surprised that he even knew other drinks besides booze. "so, do you have pictures?" holland shook his head. "videos?" again, another shake of his head. "a name?" your voice grew exasperated with each question.

"no. but! we did see him leave with a blonde woman more than once. and then they drove straight to her apartment." he said, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

"i still need pictures and a name." you replied, to which he nodded.

"yes. absolutely. of course. and we can get you that. next week."

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ your payment was getting you the following: daily calls from holland march claiming that today was gonna be the day that the most incriminating picture would be taken, increasing questions from your husband about the missing money, growing resentment towards him and every man in your life, including holland march and jackson healy, but at least you giggled once or twice at holland's frantic comments.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ holland march was also growing resentment towards your husband. each day that he and healy spent at stake out, spying him as they waited for his shift to be over, he only grew more and more pissed.

"i just don't get it." he said, sneaking a hand into healy's fries and ignoring the other man's glare. "imagine this: you have a beautiful wife-"

"my wife slept with my dad." healy interrupted him.

holland looked at him with a frown, "we're not talking about your traumas. that's sick. and I now want to know what your dad looks like. I said, imagine that you have a beautiful wife who is opinionated and strong-willed, and then you cheat on her. why would you do that?"

"because men are creatures with very fragile egos, march." healy replied, taking a bite of his burger.

"well, I'm not mad with her bossing me around." march said, sipping his soda with an obnoxious sound.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ that next friday, you had been called into the march household. you half expected his house to be set right on top of his tarot-PI building and filled with whiskey bottles, but he actually had a nice house.

you knocked on the door, only to be inspected by a blonde, thirteen year old girl as soon as the door opened. "I like your outfit." she said.

"thank you… I like your hair." those words brought a smile to her face, and she opened the door further to let you in, right before a scream filled the house. "dad! a fancy lady is here to see you!" and then, she disappeared down the hall.

"kids." you muttered under your breath, looking around his house the same way that he had looked around yours.

you heard footsteps enter the living room, just to see holland march standing there with what you hoped were the pictures of your case. "you have them?" you asked, snapping him out of his trance.

"yes!" he said, stepping towards the kitchen counter to place them there so you could inspect them. "the cheater. in all of his cheating glory."

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ the scandal that started your divorce was huge. every newspaper had the pictures of senator harrison making out with his secretary on the front page, out in the open for everyone to see. news channels were dragging the man through dirt and gravel, the opposite party was taking this as a chance to up their own likability in the public.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ holland was particularly focused on the story. yes, he was a very nosy man, but he also wanted to see that man getting dragged for wasting a perfect woman. in fact, it was his newest favorite read. healy was getting sick of it, but holland couldn't care less.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ for some reason he refused to explain to anyone, especially his daughter and healy, he found himself skimming holly's magazines that claimed to keep all girls secrets.

"no, no… what is this?" he muttered under his breath, eyebrows frowned as he stared at a particularly confusing piece of literature. "what on earth is a freakout?" he asked himself, gesturing at the subtitle he was staring at.

"dad?" came holly's voice from the doorway.

holland let out a high-pitched scream and turned around, burying the magazine underneath him before looking back at holly from over his shoulder. "hi, sweetheart. why aren't you in school?"

"it's 3 pm… janet gave me a ride…" she answered.

"I don't like that girl," he said, shaking his head.

˖⌕ ۫ . . . ﹫ turns out that teen magazines only had advice for, well, teens. and he couldn't appear in your doorway, inviting you to go rollerskate. if he did that, he'd end up in a very injured position and that would be embarrassing.

so today, he found himself standing outside the door of the new house you had gotten yourself. how did he find out about it? he can work fast if he wants to.

a knock came to your door, which you hesitated to answer. but when the knock turned into two, and then three, you found the strength to sigh and push yourself up.

there you found holland march with his usual sunglasses, but now he was lacking the cigarette. "mr. march." you said, the confusion clear in your voice.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ the tour that the head nurse of the er had given you was barely over when the paramedics rushed through the glass doors, pulling a gurney along with them. "car accident, young male with a head and neck injury." one of the paramedics called out, and the available doctors immediately rushed over to help.

you found yourself getting dragged over by the head nurse because "this was an opportunity to watch and learn"

the first thing your eyes found was the collar on his neck, the proof of the neck injury the paramedics were talking about. there was dried blood on his temple, and he looked fragile. pale. like he was fighting a battle he was losing.

it was safe to say that you were useless at that moment, just hovering behind the head nurse.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ you lost track of him that night. it was during your next hours that they sent you to check rooms again, so there you went. you definitely wouldn't be an er nurse once you graduated.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ the door to his room was open, and you stepped inside without much thought. "hello." you said simply into the room, reaching for the chart on the table of the room. the name was henry letham, he was 20 years old, and there was basically nothing else besides a handwritten note at the margins of the chart reading "coma!!" you winced at the cheerfulness of the message.

that's when your eyes moved up to him, finding the same young man from the er. "you look better than yesterday." you talked into the empty air, being answered by nothing more than the steady beeping of the hospital machinery. "at least one of us can say that after leaving the er. I puked as soon as I got home." the words came as you grabbed the pen and started writing down the vitals on the chart next to the time they were written down.

you placed down the chart on the same table before you walked closer to the hospital bed. "okay. forgive me for this, but I have to check your wounds to make sure that they're not infected, and according to the chart, you have a massive one in your stomach." you said, checking over his face as if looking for a sign of refusal. when you didn't find one, you did exactly what you said.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ going to his room was now a part of your hours. you'd check and clean his wounds, write down his vitals, and talk to him. everyone said that it was important to talk to coma patients, right? you had to give it a try.

"and then, he walked out. furious. and I'm like, sorry, dude, I don't want to get kicked out of nursing school because I let you eat before your surgery." your mouth ran free as you gently removed the bandage off his wound, throwing it into the garbage can next to the bed.

your eyes took in the state of his wound, and you hummed softly. "you're healing fast. you, henry, are a fighter. maybe that head of yours is healing just as fast." you said, your hands taking the small bottle of saline solution to clean it. "you're probably hurting everywhere, right? I hope that, at least, your brain is giving you nice entertainment. not some boring bullshit." you muttered.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ you were in charge of the bed baths, as well. because all of your classmates tended to leave all of the duties to you, but that was another thing to worry about. it was a quiet moment of your day, too. peaceful. it made you unwind.

"i wonder what you like." you muttered, your glove-covered hand holding a wet washcloth that you used to clean his face. "do you like... I don't know, classical music? you kinda look like the type." you said, your hand moving the washcloth gently through his face. first, his forehead, then his cheeks.

"you also look like you didn't sleep much." your voice continued, being met only by the beeping of the room. "so this is probably a great thing for you. unlimited rest. expect for the car accident part. and, you know, the head injury thing."

you kept talking, voicing out whatever small thought about him came to your head. then your voice died down when you moved down his arms and noticed some circular burn scars there. "oh." you breathed out, your gloved thumb lingering there for a second. "how didn't i notice this?" you asked yourself in a quiet voice, staring down at the scars before you forced yourself out of it to keep doing your job.

"you are a mystery to me." you whispered once you were patting down on his skin to dry it, your eyes going to his peaceful looking face.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ your classmates and the other nurses had started teasing you about how often you offered to take the task of the room. "going to see your boyfriend?" one of your classmates called out, to which you replied by raising your middle finger to her.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ you knew it was weird. and probably a little dumb, too. you just liked being in his room for some reason. it wasn't just the quiet of it, but the mere feeling of it. he had a certain vibe, that's what you concluded.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ it had been a few weeks since he had been admitted, and no one had appeared to visit him. not a parent, not a girlfriend. he was alone. completely alone in that hospital bed, with no one to look over his progress. so it absolutely tore you when your winter break was coming around, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to come to his room for two weeks, two weeks in which he'd probably recover and leave.

✃𓄧꒷꒦ "in my classes, they're always talking about bonding with the person you're taking care of just enough to see them as a person, but not enough that you actually make a sentimental connection with them." you told him as you removed his bandages in an already familiar routine. "but it's just impossible. that's why there's a higher rate of suicides in healthcare workers. and that's also why I don't want to go on my well-earned winter break." you reached for a new bandage, a deep sigh leaving your lips. "and it's ridiculous because when you wake up, you won't remember me. you won't remember anything I've told you, and I still hate the idea of leaving for two weeks to come back to the news that you've been discharged."

✃𓄧꒷꒦ it was your last week before break. you were stressed to hell and back. finals were breathing down your neck, and you still had to go and complete your hours of clinical rotations, or else you could kiss goodbye your break.

you weren't as chatty when you came to henry's room, being drained by the stress. your hands just automatically reached for the medical chart to annotate the vitals on the screen. maybe you'd skip the wounds today since he was already halfway to heal completely.

you were about to leave when your eyes caught sight of something against the blanket. your eyes locked onto his hand, just to see a soft twitch of his fingers where they rested on the mattress. the coldest shiver ran down your spine in that moment, but you stopped before doing anything else. coma patients had muscle spasms often. that didn't mean they were about to wake up.

still, you moved to place two of your fingers in his palm, your heart beating a little faster. "can you squeeze my fingers for me, henry?" you said. and you waited for a response for a couple of seconds. maybe a twitch or a more purposeful movement. but nothing came. at that, you let out the smallest chuckle. "you freaked me out for a second there. thought you were about to wake up."

✃𓄧꒷꒦ you were a walking corpse the next day. you hadn't slept a minute the night before, and that very morning, you had an anatomy test that, at least, you were sure that you had approved, which was a relief. you could use the good news.

"your boyfriend woke up." you heard one of the new nurses saying, and for a second, you ignored it since you assumed that it was a conversation you were eavesdropping in.

you grabbed the registration chart in the nurse's station before the nurse talked again. "did you hear me? henry letham is awake. I guessed you'd be running down the hall by now." that made you freeze completely, pen hovering over the space where you were supposed to sign your attendance.

"what?" you asked. "what do you mean he woke up?"

"i mean that when tania made the morning rounds, he woke up. last I heard, dr. foreman was running some tests on him to make sure he had no permanent neurological damage."

you found your strength to get back on earth and sign the attendance sheet before putting down the pen, your mind running wild. "i'm gonna… just-" you started, but the nurse interrupted you.

"i know you're going to him. just say you need to check his IV or something." she said, waving a dismissive hand at you before going back to the chart she was filling.

with a startled nod, you walked away from the nurse's station before your feet automatically drove you through the familiar path of his room, turning corners and going up the elevator by pure instinct.

you saw dr. foreman leave the room and give you a polite nod as a greeting, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you stepped inside the room.

"hi. I won't bother you much. I just need to check your iv." you said simply, stepping towards the medicine bag hanging from the iv pole.

henry was quiet. so quiet that you had to check his face to make sure that he wasn't asleep or that this was a prank played by the other nurses, but no. you found his gaze glued to the open door of the room.

you stayed quiet, too, checking the medicine bag over and over like it would empty out in a second. "how are you feeling?" you asked, trying to fill the silence.

"tired." came his voice. it was rough and raspy with the lack of use, but it was new, and it was real.

"tired?" you repeated, letting the medicine bag alone. "well… i think that the tests are done, at least for two hours. you should use that time to sleep." you said.

henry just nodded. "okay."

so he wasn't talkative. that was okay, it answered a lot of the questions your brain had started to form. he didn't owe you any words just because your mind had decided that his room was your place to unwind.

"good. so i should probably let you rest, then. I'll come back in a while to check your iv again." you said, offering him a small smile that was met with the neutral look on his face.

seb's had been buzzing that night.

not a single seat had gone untouched or any drink had gone untasted, every table, down to the ones in the corner that the usuals used to avoid, had been filled with celebrating couples and nervous first dates.

san valentine was always a great day for the business. there was something about live music and a dimly light ambiance that attracted the romance of the town for the entirety of the night. some people left after a few songs, and others stayed there all night until the chairs started to get lifted and placed on the tables for the closing hour.

valentine's was also one of the few nights of the year where you were a part of the stage for the whole duration of the night instead of just performing a couple of songs and leaving before closing hour, so your performance had always been something different on that night for the past three years.

"oh, god." you groaned to the empty four walls of the dressing room that sebastian had set up for you, your hands reaching behind your back to unzip the tight fitting sparkly dress you had chosen for the night.

your throat was patched despite the water you had been drinking throughout the night. you could swear that one of your fake eyelashes had changed its residency from your eye to your cheekbone, and you still had to shimmy your way out of this dress and risk losing one of your manicured nails because of it. you loved performing. you just didn't love the aftermath of it.

your hands were pushing your dress down from your hips when you heard movement behind your closed door. soft footsteps could be heard for a few seconds before they turned and faded into the silence of the bar, leaving you in the same quiet as before.

sebastian always stayed after closing time. you and some of the other members of the bar joked that he probably slept there because no matter what time it was, you could probably find him in the bar.

the silence lingered for a long while as you managed to get your legs out of their fabric prison, the dress already discarded on the floor where you decided to abandon it in order to focus on getting your fake eyelashes off.

your eyes were focused on the reflection that the mirror of the vanity offered you when the sound of the piano traveled through the bar, skilled fingers playing a melody that you had already come to recognize and place from how often you heard it in the quiet of the bar.

do#, fa#, sol#, la.

the melody kept repeating as you took off the rest of your makeup, and at some point, you abandoned the task of getting ready to leave for the night and drop on your sheets. instead, you got up from the chair and grabbed a robe, covering your underwear and the exposed skin underneath the black, soft fabric.

your sock clad feet guided you to the front of the bar, the sound of sebastian's melody getting louder the closer you got to his piano. he was focused, an unreadable expression on his face as his fingers moved over the same ivory notes. the ghost of his jaw clenching every few seconds was there, like each note awoke a different emotion that he was trying to make disappear.

the stage was cold even through your socks, but you still moved up the few steps on the side until you were finally standing on the platform. even then, sebastian's focus was on the piano. it was almost as if he was closed in on his small bubble, where there was no room for anything besides the instrument in front of him.

you didn't stop until you were leaning against the side of the piano, covering the notes on the right side of the keyboard.

"seb," you said softly, but the man in front of you made no gesture of listening to your words.

valentine's got him in a difficult state. he was sharper, he tended to have less patience for any kind of mistake during the performance. he was a perfectionist by nature, but valentine's made it worse. you still remember the time he fired the trumpet in the middle of a break because he fucked up his tempo and changed the entire mood of the interpretation.

your eyes were on his face before you looked down at his hands. "I don't like valentine's either." came your voice, finally gaining his attention. "too much... forced romance, right?"

his fingers stopped moving. instead, he placed his hands on his thighs as he looked at you. "forced romance?"

"yeah. I mean, you have all of the cards and the presents in every store... it feels like they're shoving it down your throat." you said, shrugging one shoulder as you elbows rested on the piano's lid.

meanwhile, sebastian was processing your words before you gained yourself that soft frown in his expression, his eyes widening just slightly before he shook his head. "I like valentine's." he confessed.

you raised your eyebrows immediately, not being able to stop the way that your jaw fell slightly open. "you do?"

"why is that so surprising?" he asked, his expression lighting up a little. "we have my funny valentine's thanks to it. I can't hate the date after that."

"well, i don't like it." you said again, but that answer only gave you the sight of sebastian shaking his head.

"you've just never had a proper valentine's."

"oh, yeah? and a romantic evening will change my mind?" you replied after letting out a laugh.

but sebastian stayed silent, looking as if he was battling something in his mind before he placed a hand on your hip and moved you so you were directly on his sight of line.

his hand stayed on your hip, the touch feeling heavy even through the robe. "maybe." he said now, his fingers moving towards the knot in the front. "you want to try?" he asked, his blue gaze piercing yours.

the feeling of the knot in your stomach gave your answer before you did, making your head move in a nod before you could even notice it.

sebastian's fingers undid the knot in your robe, exposing the bare skin of your stomach to his eyes. you felt the way that his gaze moved through your body, feeling almost like a touch.

he reached and pushed the fabric off your shoulders, letting it fall down on top of the keyboard to allow his eyes to move through your body freely.

he was still sitting on the piano bench, giving him the best height to lean forward and start placing open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your stomach while his hands started roaming through your body.

you could feel the warmth of his touch on your waist, trailing up to your hips until he was sneaking his hands underneath your bra, giving your breasts a gentle squeeze.

your hands had found purchase on his dirty blonde strands, resting your palm against his hair as he nipped the skin of your stomach before his tongue came out to soothe the spot.

you could feel his movements grow heavier, feel how his hands squeezed your breasts tighter before he suddenly pulled his hands back to unclasp your bra and let it fall off your body.

he pulled back just the slightest, letting his gaze move through your exposed chest on the dim light of the club before he reached to palm it once more. "gorgeous." he said underneath his breath, a touch not meant for you to hear it.

he could feel your nipples start to harden underneath his palm, his fingers coming down to pull and twist just to wake them up entirely.

the heat on your stomach was becoming tighter and harder to ignore with his touch, the dampness in your core starting to leak through your panties while he seemed to be trying to memorize your body. "seb." you said shakily as he started to kiss your stomach again.

he looked up at you, his eyebrows raised. "what's the matter?" he asked, as if this was a casual situation.

"you know what." you replied while his hands moved down to your hips, his thumbs tracing the waistband of your panties.

"I don't. I can't read minds." he replied, pressing your lips under your navel now.

"seb... I need you to touch me." you said now, and he hummed against your stomach, fingers hooking on your panties, but he still didn't pull them down.

"what's the word?" he asked. through the haze of your thoughts raging from how bad you wanted him and how much you hated him for not touching you, you couldn’t focus on what he meant, so the silence between you grew. "ask nicely." he prompted.

"please." you finally whimpered. the reward was immediate because he wasted no time in pulling those panties down your legs.

his hands gently pulled you down on top of the piano so you were sitting on the keyboard, your weight pressing down on the tiles and creating a constant background noise.

he didn't seem to mind because his next move was to cup your jaw to kiss you now that you were on a similar level, his lips moving with a hunger that you could only tried to match as you kissed him back, your hands resting on his neck.

he pulled back just to bury his face on your neck, kissing and nipping every inch of skin that he could reach.

meanwhile, his hand moved down your body, caressing down the skin of your stomach and letting his fingers roam lower and lower until he reached the dampness between your legs.

the feeling of your wetness coating his fingers had him groaning gently against your neck while you let out a sharp gasp at the contact, the kisses on your skin becoming more desperate. "you're so wet for me." he said while his fingers moved through your folds.

you moaned against his ear as your hands trailed down his neck to feel the fabric of his jacket, his long fingers stroking your pussy as you clinged to the fabric of the jacket's top collar.

his fingers teased your entranced, pushing the tip of his middle finger through the tight muscle before pulling back just to leave you clenching around nothing.

you whimpered each time he did it, wanting nothing more than to feel those long and skilled fingers moving inside you, but he seemed to be enjoying the soft and pitiful sounds you made each time he pulled back.

"you want my fingers inside you?" he asked, pulling back of your neck just to meet your gaze. you nodded, and he clicked his tongue. "I'm gonna need you to say it." he chastised, pulling his fingers away from you.

"sebastian, please..." you cried softly, hips bucking at the ghost of his touch. "please what?" was his only reply, his hands now far away from you.

"please. i need your fingers. please."

that pleased sebastian, who leaned in to kiss you while he pushed two of his fingers inside of you, greedily swallowing the moan that escaped your lips at the feeling.

he didn't wait for you to get used to it. he started moving his fingers right away, the squelching sounds filling the space between the two of you as his fingers moved in and out of you.

you pulled back from the kiss first, throwing your head back as his fingertips grazed that spongy spot inside you, your gasps and moans turning louder. and then, like it wasn't enough, you felt his thumb pressing against your clit and his lips wrapping around your nipple.

the combined stimulation had you clenching around his fingers like you were trying to pull him deeper inside of you, your breathing turning more and more shaky, and you swore that you were seconds away from cumming around his fingers-

he pulled away, taking your fingers out of your tight heat and his mouth from your breast, leaving you clenching around nothing and your thighs shaking with a tension that hadn’t been released.

he saw your lips opening up to say something, but the only sound that came out of you was muffled by the fingers that he pressed into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on his skin.

"suck." he said, and it was just seconds later that your tongue was moving around his digits, licking your own juices off his fingers while he looked at you with his pupils so dilated that the blue was just a memory at this point.

"you're being so good for me." sebastian muttered, pulling his fingers out of your mouth just to smear your spit over your bottom lip, only feeling content when it was left shiny.

his hands came down to your thighs before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing a path upward from the side of your knee until he reached your inner thighs.

he looked up at you, admiring the sight of your chest heaving with shaky gasps and your flushed cheeks before he finally made contact with your drooling pussy.

his tongue drove a like from your entrance to your clit, humming at the taste as if it was the finest dinner he had ever tasted. he flattened his tongue and gave you more of those long licks, tasting every inch of you.

his nose nudged your clit and your hand reached down to tangle in his hair, fingers sneaking through his dirty blonde hair to try and push him closer against you.

sebastian moved up, his lips wrapping around your clit to twirl his tongue around it, causing your legs to try and close around his head before his hands forced them open again.

his arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you open as he worked on you, your fingers in his hair tightening as he practically made out with your pussy.

one of his arms abandoned your legs so he could guide his fingers to your entrance again, pushing his fingers inside as he continued licking your clit while your hips bucked into his face.

soon, you found yourself in the same edge you were before, the coil in your stomach getting impossibly tight with the feeling of his tongue and his fingers working on you.

your sounds turned more high-pitched, soft whines leaving you after a particularly harsh suck to that bundle of nerves between his lips.

"sebastian... I'm gonna-" you started saying, prompting sebastian to get more focused on you. he started sucking your clit while his fingers curled inside you, searching in your walls for that spot.

the moment he grazed it, you let out a loud moan, your fingers tightening impossibly in his hair. "oh, I'm coming." you said in a whine, your muscles clenching around his fingers even tighter the moment your orgasm hit you full force.

sebastian didn't stop. he made you ride the high your orgasm for as long as you could, his fingers thrusting inside you in a rhythm that slowed down in pair of the shaking in your legs.

his tongue moved almost soothingly now, licking your clit gently until you used his hair to pull him away from you with a pained whine at the overstimulation.

he stood up from his knees and wiped his lips with the back of his hand before he grabbed your face to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his mouth as his arms wrapped around your waist.

he helped you down from the piano before he pulled away, wincing as soon as he saw the state of the tiles. it was ruined for sure.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ richard and justin were some of those guys who were absolutely obsessed by the case. any time you happened to walk by the two of them in the halls, they were always whispering about whatever had been revealed now.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ richard was used to getting your attention just as easily as he did with everyone else. come on, he was richard haywood. lf he asked for your homework, you were supposed to offer to let him copy it the rest of the semester. and at first, you were the same. it's not like you were head over heels for him like everyone else, but you also didn't want to be annoyed by his pretty face and arrogant attitude daily, so whenever he asked for your homework you just handed it to him. less of a problem for you.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ until it developed into... something. the thing between you and richard couldn't be called a relationship. you hooked up with him twice, both times in parties, before he started hanging out with justin and stopped seeking you out, and you, being as petty as you were, responded by completely ignoring him in the halls and in the class you shared. you weren't about to beg for his attention.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ it bothered him. not because he missed you, but because it left him feeling bitter. he was used to girls fawning over him when he disappeared. for godsake, there was a european girl still calling him after his one month trip to italy. how could you just start ignoring him after he gifted you two nights together? it got on his nerves. you got on his nerves.

"hey." richard's voice came before you could even turn to look at him, the jack-ass smile practically obvious in that simple sentence.

you reluctantly closed your locker door and turned to look at your right, where richard was already less than a feet away from you. "what?" you asked, your hand resting on your backpack strap.

"what's the hurry?" he asked once he was right in front of you, the charm in his voice practically dripping. "can't we talk for five minutes? you couldn’t get enough of me two months ago." he added, his hand already coming to the back of your neck. he saw you roll your eyes, and his smile turned sharper and more cocky. "yeah. you made that exact same face."

"fuck off, richard." you said immediately, your face turning into an annoyed frown. "i stopped being interested two months ago."

oh. those words hit him square in a part of his stomach where his arrogance lived, especially with the way that you moved his hand away from his neck like he was an annoying bug.

"no one's uninterested-" he started saying, but you didn't linger enough to hear what he had to say. you just turned around and started walking away. from him.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ the idea had hit him after listening to you talking with your friend in the middle of your english class. you were complaining in whispers about how the news kept talking about the "ghostface shit" and how "no one wanted to hear about two insane fucks who did it."

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ he had practically ran to justin at the ring for lunch, pushing whoever got in his way to the side without lingering to hear their complaints.

"you and me. ghostface." he said as soon as he was standing in front of justin, not even caring that the other man was deeply focused in his book.

justin lifted his gaze, frowning as he processed his words. "what are you talking about?" he asked.

"she hates it. we use it to scare her a little, then I come and save her and win her back." richard said as if it was obvious, shrugging one shoulder.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ the first call had come at 2.02 a.m. on a friday night while you were in the middle of a malcom in the middle marathon. you picked up the phone after the first ring and placed it against your ear, only to hear a breathy: "do you like scary movies?" you didn't even entertain whoever was on the other side of that phone call because five seconds later, you hung up the phone and disconnected it. not tonight.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ the calls kept coming and coming. you never indulged, no matter how creepy they became.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ richard was properly pissed off at that. he was doing all of this for you and you wouldn't listen to him? or at least, that was until you sat on your couch after school, tv turned on in some news channel only to listen to the reporter start talking about how the ghostface fever had arrived to your san benito. the victim was a girl from your english class, the same girl you had been talking to that day.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ richard looked the same as he stepped into the classroom the next day, shooting you one of his annoying looks as he slid onto his usual seat. "where's your friend?" he said, nodding towards the empty chair next to you. you had to turn your head to the other side to hide your tears.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ it hadn't stopped with her. the police and the news kept reporting two more victims, each of them related to you somehow. the guy who had tutored you, even the girl who you always walked through the doors with.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ richard had started finding his opportunities to get closer to you. during school assemblies, he'd sit on your side, his hand finding a way to rest on your shoulder or even take your hand in his. you couldn’t even fight him anymore, you just let him worm his way back in your life. he'd comfort you while you cried during memorials, fight with teachers to let you turn in homework after the deadline, do everything at his power to keep you calm.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ you had started depending on him, as much as you hated it. when you saw the teachers place a small altar for everyone the school had lost, you'd immediately start looking for him to crumble in his arms.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ richard loved it. that's why he and justin had gotten more cocky. they had three victims so far, but richard wanted to make sure that he had you wrapped around your finger completely.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ the next one was your best friend. you and her had been friends since diapers. she was the only other person who had been close to you during this time, comforting you just as much as richard had.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ it was almost 8 pm. when the call had first come. richard was on the other side of the phone, keeping her distracted while justin sneaked into the house. the girl was easy to play with, giggling stupidly at the breathy voice who asked what movies she liked.

justin was in through the backdoor as she stood by the phone near the stairs, her back turned to all of the kitchen of her house. justin moved slowly, making sure that no sound came from his steps as he approached her.

the knife that slit her throat wasn't gentle. it made a sharp line, causing her hands to drop her phone to hurriedly bring them to her neck as if that would stop the river of blood escaping from her flesh to drop on the floor.

she dropped to her knees, coughing sharply and pitifully as richard made his way inside of the house. he never liked the killing part, but he knew that with a few words and what not he could convince justing to do it himself.

"well. she went down without a fight," richard said once he was standing next to justin, watching the way that the blood started painting her fingers and pooling around her body, painting her soft blue sweater to a dark color instead.

˚₊‧⁺⋆ ♱ it was in the middle of moving her body that the front door started opening, your cheerful, clueless voice filling the space. "I know you said that I have to stop coming inside your place like this, but i-"

your words died down when you stepped into the house, only to find the scene of justin and richard in black robes, masks thrown to the floor as they stood next to a pool of dark blood, your friends legs being held by richard's arms like she was just a doll.

you mouth opened as your legs started to move back, but your yell was muffled and your run was stopped by a hand pressed against your mouth that pushed you against the wall, your eyes forced to meet the sight of richard's face.

"no, no. shhh, no yelling." he said in a voice that felt like a forced combination of comforting and harsh, his fingers digging harder into your cheeks to keep your jaw still. "I did this for you." richard whispered next, his face moving closer to yours.

"you don't need anyone else." he continued, his voice turning sickeningly gentle now as his free, blood-stained hand came to brush through your hair. "just me. but you, you were too stubborn to see it. I tried to get close to you, but you kept thinking that you didn't need me. that you were uninterested. you wouldn't listen to what I had to say." he kept talking, feeling your tears drop onto the hand that was pressing against your face.

"no, don't cry. there's no reason to cry. I won't do anything to you now that you're interested again. I have you, right?" his blue eyes scanned your face, his fingers tightening when he didn't get no response. "I said, I have you, right?" he repeated, his voice sharper now.

he was magnetic from the moment you saw him.

the sky was falling down on your shoulders. your clothes were soaked through as you pushed the door of the first establishment you came across to find a shelter from that storm, the water dripping from your clothes and hair making a trail as you walked towards the bar, already shaking off your jacket.

the bar was filled with people trying to escape the rain just like you, so it was impossible to hope for a place to sit down. you still scanned the place in hopes of seeing an empty stool that could take you until the rain calmed down and you could get out on your feet again.

then you saw him. to say that you first noticed him would be a lie, because your eyes were immediately drawn to the empty stool next to him, but it was just a matter of time before you saw him. he was sitting on the corner of the bar with a cigarette between his fingers. he didn’t look at you, in fact, he wasn’t looking at anything in particular, not even the tired barman trying to enforce what you were willing to bet was a frantic consume policy that would only last for the duration of the storm.

your feet were dragging you towards the empty stool before you could even realize what was happening. i just need a place to sit, you find yourself thinking, trying to justify your actions to your own mind. It’s just a coincidence that you have decided that he, whoever he was, was a new question that you were trying to answer.

you sat down on the stool quietly, only letting out a soft sigh when you placed your soaked jacket in your lap. you immediately hated the way that your eyes moved towards the man next to you as if checking if your presence had changed something in him, or if he had noticed the company he had, but you found the same sight as before. he was staring absently at a whiskey bottle in the wall opposite from the both of you, as if he was seeing something else.

“hey,” a voice coming from the other side of the counter interrupted your already racing mind, making you shift your glance towards the bearded bartender, who was currently giving you an exasperated look. “you gonna drink or what? you need to order if you want the seat.”

“yeah, i- give me a guinness.” you said, moving a strand of wet hair away from your face, offering the barman a smile that wasn’t acknowledged.

It took him less than a minute to slide the glass in front of you before he left your side of the bar, probably after spotting another wet face to intimidate into ordering a drink that they probably didn’t even want. like he did with you.

your hand picked up the glass and guided it towards your lips where you took a slow sip, still way too alert of the man next to you. you swore that your heart had currently moved to inhabit your throat instead of your chest the second that you noticed through the corner of your eye that he had moved. just an inch, just a shift of his position in the stool next to you.

and then it came. the voice that broke the silence and almost disappeared into the background of the bar. “the rain is nasty tonight, huh?” he asked, and you could feel his gaze moving over the general look of you. the wet hair, the way that your clothes dripped and formed a small puddle at the feet of the stool you were sitting in, how the jacket on your lap was probably only making you colder.

your head moved to the side, only for your gaze to meet the blue eyes of the man next to you. a sound resembling a soft, breathless laugh left your lips as you shook your head “no. not at all, just a bit of drizzle.”

“so the soaked look was a fashion choice?” his words were amused, and he allowed his eyes to take a second look of your current state, the weight of his gaze feeling heavy in a way that you couldn’t quite begin to understand.

“sort off.” you replied, letting a smile settle in your lips.

It was a very pleasant surprise to find that your conversation with him didn’t die down five seconds after that comment. under the warm, dim light of the bar you found out that he was a history teacher in a junior high school and also the basketball coach for the girls team, to which you answered by revealing that you had never been fond of history in your high school days. after he got over his momentary offense, he said: “I'll have to change that, then.”

the words between you flew easily, more easily than a conversation in a bar should move. a part of you knew that this would be something different than usual when you decided to ask for his number instead of spending the last 30 minutes before closing time hoping that the next thing he’d say would be an invitation to keep the conversation going, to not let whatever was starting to take place between you two die when the barman gave you the last warning of the closing time.

dating dan was quiet. it consisted of calm strolls around the park that were sometimes accompanied by ice cream, of going to his place on friday nights after he offered to cook for you and spending the rest of the evening on his couch with his cat occupying his usual spot between the two of you, acting more like a chaperone than a pet.

you were getting to know him better. your mind started collecting details about him, like how his apartment looked more like a place to spend the night in instead of a place where he *lived*, or how he’d much rather talk about his students than his family. there was a loneliness surrounding dan that stuck with him even when you two were together, a certain tension in his shoulders that never seemed to disappear, no matter how quiet it was between you, how the heavy look in his eyes stayed even after a whole night of sleep.

the first time you started noticing something else was in the middle of one of your usual friday nights. you were sitting next to him, his arm draped around your shoulders while his cat had made himself a spot between his thigh and yours. the tv was playing a documentary on penguins, the narrator's monotone voice filling the living room, even if none of you were truly paying attention to it.

your hand was about to reach for the remote to change the channel and look for something more entertaining, but your focus was quickly drawn to the feeling of his hand shaking where it rested on your shoulder and his knee bouncing up and down in a frantic rhythm that managed to shake the couch underneath the two of you and made his cat jump off after being disturbed.

“hey,” you said, moving your head so you could try to catch his gaze, but it only gave you a bigger perspective of how he looked in that moment. he was sweating and the shaking on his hands only seemed to be getting more and more intense as the seconds went by, making the worry begin to control your actions instead of your mind. “dan, you okay?” you asked, pulling away from him to take the hand on your shoulder between yours, as if your touch would make it settle.

but of course, it didn’t.

“dan-”

“i’m fine.” he said before you could finish your sentence, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. dan noticed this immediately, and he shifted, clearing his throat like something was stuck in his vocal chords. his shaky hands moved to hold yours, making the tremors in them even more obvious now. “i’m fine, don’t worry.”

“are you sure? because you’re sweating-” you started saying, one of your hands escaping his hold to try and press against his sweaty forehead in an attempt to check for fever, but he pulled back before you could make contact.

“i’m okay,” dan’s voice said again, this time trying to make his voice sound firmer, but his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing, and his forehead still looked sweaty. “i’m okay. I just- i need to– i’ll be back in a minute, okay? don’t worry.” with a kiss to your forehead, he disappeared into the bathroom of his apartment, the door closing heavily behind him.

you sat there and stared at the closed door, trying to strain your hearing to see if you could pick up even the slightest sound of whatever it was that he was doing in the bathroom, but the sound of the documentary was the only thing that your ears could pick up right now. “jesus.” you whispered in frustration, standing up from the couch so you could turn off the tv in hopes of catching any hint of what was going on, but no sound came out.

you walked towards the bathroom door, knocking on the door just once. “dan?” you called out, getting no answer. “do you need anything?” you leaned against the doorframe, your arms folding across your chest as you waited for his answer.

there was only silence coming from the other side of the door, making the worry in your throat turn thicker than before. “dan.” you called out again, raising a hand to knock once more.

“can I call you back later?” you stopped before actually hitting the wood with your knuckles, a frown settling on your expression.

“you want me to leave?”

“I'll… I'll call you back later, don't worry.” he said, as if that sentence would do something to actually calm down the worry that had already settled in your chest.

you stayed exactly in that same spot, with your shoulder resting against the doorframe as you weighted the consequences of leaving him like this. the bigger part of you wanted to stay exactly where you were until he walked out of the bathroom to make sure that he was doing fine, even when he had just asked you to leave.

“are you sure that you're fine?” you asked instead of walking away, your eyes closing as you rested your forehead against the door.

“I'll be fine, I just- i need a moment.” dan’s voice was meant to soothe the nerves on your stomach, but there was a shakiness in his voice that made it impossible for you to actually relax, no matter what he was saying.

you were about to open your lips again and try to fight it, to convince him that it might be better if you stayed, but his words cut you off. “I'll call you.”

the deepest breath left your lips as you realized that fighting would be useless and that the only choice you actually had was to leave him alone and wait for his call while you drowned in worry. “okay. but call me.” you said, pushing yourself off the bathroom door.

the day you found out wasn't dark and cloudy. it was a normal saturday evening when he invited you to eat pasta at his place like usual, and you accepted without a second thought. his company was something that you didn't just enjoy anymore, but something you hoped for.

the knock on his front door came softly, knuckles drumming against the wood in a rhythm that he had grown accustomed to. by now, he should've already opened the door and offered you a greeting, maybe even a kiss if it had been a nice morning.

“dan?” you called out as you knocked again, hearing the faint sound of one of his vinyls playing in the background.

since that day when he disappeared into the bathroom and asked you to leave, there was something in your chest that wouldn't leave. a sense of dread that had found the perfect spot between your ribs to settle in, a sense that was now screaming so loudly in your ears that left no other choice but to take the spare key from underneath his rug to open the door.

if everything was okay, you had the excuse to say that you couldn't wait to see his cat.

but as you stepped into his apartment after unlocking the door, you realized that thinking of silly excuses was a waste of time.

dan was lying on the floor of his living room. his face was covered behind his arms, which were draped over his head and gave him even a more concerning look. his chest was still rising and falling underneath your gaze, but that didn't stop you from hurrying to his side and dropping to your knees.

“hey, hey…” you said softly, hands coming to try and move his arms away from his face so you could try and see if he was okay. “what happened? should i call an ambulance?”

“no, no, no.” he answered almost immediately, shaking his head as his arms moved away from his face so he could meet your gaze.

dan had a very particular kind of gaze. you could only describe it as heavy, but not the kind that weighed on other people, the kind that looked like it weighed on him.

and right now, it only looked worse. his pupils were dilated to the point that the blue in them had almost disappeared, his eyelids almost closing completely.

your hands moved to touch his face, the back of your hand pressing against his forehead to check his temperature. “then what do i do?” you asked, trying to fill the gaps to a treatment for a sickness that you didn't have the name for. “do you need water? an aspirin?” your voice came out softly, your frown becoming more pronounced.

“water,” you nodded, moving to grab one of the almost raggedy cushions in his couch to place it underneath his head before you could stand up and walk to the kitchen.

the water running was the only thing filling the apartment for a few seconds. your own gaze was fixed on the glass you were filling, your mind running through a thousand different scenarios, each of them making something different in your chest crack.

the only thing that could bring you back to reality was the feeling of water droplets falling on your fingers only to realize that the glass was overflowing. “shit.” the whisper came slowly as you turned off the tap and returned to the living room.

you knelt down at his level again, bringing the glass to his lips and studying him as he drank. just before you were about to open your lips again to try and question him once more, your eyes caught the sight of something.

you put down the glass on the coffee table, noticing something peaking from underneath the table that held his record player. without a word, your hand reached for it, taking the object to your view line.

a drug pipe.

you could hear the way that dan's breath caught in his chest, you could practically feel him tensing up as one of his hands reached to take the pipe from your hand like that would erase the memory.

“it's not-” he started saying, but you had already moved your hand out of his reach.

“this is what has you like this?” you asked, your words coming out sharper than intended. you didn't correct it, though.

“shit.” dan said, and you could see the way that trying to find the words through his brain in that state seemed to hurt him physically.

you didn't know if the weight of the pipe in your hand was heavier than the weight of seeing him like that, but you found yourself putting down the pipe on the coffee table to bring your hand to his face again.

you should've left. you were aware of that, this wasn't something that could be fixed with a few kind words and a conversation, it was a kind of problem that would eventually start to leak into your life and taint it, but your body stayed right where it was.

instead of moving up, your hand pressed against his forehead again, even when you already knew the reason behind his state. “bad trip?” you asked, voice lighter than before.

that managed to break his face in a smile and he nodded just once. “you could say that.”

surprisingly, you smiled as well before your hands left his face and fell on your lap instead. you leaned back, pressing your back against the couch. “how long?”

dan didn't reply immediately, he brought his arm to cover his eyes once more. “few years. tried rehab but… it didn't work.”

your answer was a soft hum, letting your hand wander to take his.

“I didn't want you to find out.” he continued before you could ask anything else, his tone a reflection of the guilt settling in his stomach. “I never… did it before our dates, if that matters.”

“it doesn't hurt to know.” you muttered, looking down at the hand you were holding.

the silence between you wasn't the comfortable, easy silence from your past dates. the knowledge of this part of his life was settled heavily between you, it was breaking the idea of what you had hoped for this.

and yet, the idea of getting up and leaving him in this situation didn't feel right with you. you were a fool to stay, and you knew it. you had the perfect level of commitment to end this, but your heart was practically forcing you to stay in your spot.

your eyes ranked over him, then they moved over the naked walls of his apartment, with the paint cracking and stains that were part of the infrastructure by now. his miniature kitchen, lacking in cutlery and food in his fridge.

and for some reason, you wanted to stay. you wished to stay.

you wished to fix the cracking paint in his apartment, to create memories dear enough that they'd start filling the walls in his place, that your presence would be the thing to turn this space from a place to live to a home.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ the truth is that ken is as smitten as one can be. he'd linger near your rock all day, standing with his brightest surfboard, his chest puffed out while his free hand rested on his hip in what he considered his most amazing pose. he just wants to look cool for you in case you ever look his way. but when you do look his way, his whole system collapses, and the only thing he's capable of doing is blurting out a: "you're so cool" while you're just slapping water around with your tail.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ whenever you went back to the sea, it was like the sun itself had hidden. he knows that you can't be around him all day because of your nature, but that doesn't mean that he's happy about it. he'll spend the rest of his day mopping around, dragging his feet on the sand and staring at the sea while letting out these loud, dramatic sighs. his day just got ruined. :(

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ you gave him a present one time. just once. you were out of the sea, resting on your usual rock when you caught the sight of ken shooting looks in your direction while trying to be discreet. "hi, ken!" you called out, your hand raising to wave at him.

his face broke in a smile just the next second. a smile that he tried to make less bright as he walked up to you at a pace that was too fast for the uninterested look he was trying to give. "hi, barbie." he replied, his voice sounding as if he was trying to drown out a thousand different kinds of high-picthed squeaks of victory.

there was something on your hand. that's what he noticed as soon as he stepped beside you. but his mind was cleared blank the second he saw your bright smile on your lips. he swore that nothing had ever shone so bright. the sun? what even was that? you had the force of a thousand suns on your smile, that's all he knew and all he cared about.

"I made you something yesterday," those words accompanied with that smile you were offering him practically killed him and sent him to a very glittery and very pink death bed.

then came your hand, extending towards him to hand him what you had no idea would be his next favorite object in the vast land of barbieland.

if he reached to take it, it was just pure inner force guiding his hand because he was sure that the gears in his head were stuck in place by the image of you.

what he was holding was a necklace made of pink seashells. or it might have been the secret to life because ken's life just got a hundred times better!!!!!

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ since that moment, that necklace never left his neck. never. he wore it like a badge, lifting his head a little to show it off whenever rival ken came around as if the pink seashells could make him look more baddass. in his mind it did!

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ so now he had to return the favor to you. somehow. he had no idea how. he was quite literally spending his whole beach shift trying to find a way to give you a present as well. it had to be something amazing, something no one had ever given you before.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ that's how he ended up with a huge fish tank filled with water that he was trying to pull in a garden cart, groaning all the way as he dragged it to the beach until he stopped it right next to your rock, where you were watching him with a confused expression.

"ken?" you asked, sitting up in your rock as you saw his red face.

"barbie. I got you a ride!" ken said, pride practically pouring out of him as you processed his idea.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ he spent the rest of the day pulling that garden cart through the streets of barbieland so you could visit the other barbies, even as he groaned and gritted his teeth in his attempt to look strong for you and impress you.

at the end of the day, it was worth it. when he pulled you back to the beach, you sat on your rock for a few minutes before you leaned in and pressed a soft peck on his lips.

ken froze as you jumped back into the sea, letting out a soft giggle as if you hadn't just broken the doll standing on the shore.

BEST DAY EVER!!! that's the only thing that ran through ken's head, next to hearts and images of your face.