i feel like that picture of ben affleck smoking the cigarette and looking so tired all the time
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Sade Olutola

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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@loomiz
i feel like that picture of ben affleck smoking the cigarette and looking so tired all the time

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𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝? 𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 ⚕ 𝐉.𝐀.
summary: One glitchy tablet, one HR email, and suddenly you’re married to your attending, Jack Abbot. HR thinks it was intentional and has already started merging your records. Claim it was a mistake, and your residency could be delayed. With only three months left until you're an attending, Jack agrees to play along. Pretending to be married might save your career—but can your heart survive the side effects?
tags: accidental marriage, slow burn romance, HR involvement, nosy coworkers, reader is a PGY-4 resident, jack is not a widow in this fic, possible medical/legal inaccuracies, mutual pining, angst, exam, drinking, two people being dumbasses once again
word count: 6.7k
a/n: ahh here we are again :DD i hope you enjoy! and as always, since this is an ongoing process, your ideas and thoughts for future scenes are more than welcome! big kisses to everyone who has sent in ideas already<33
i'm not keeping a tag list for this series!
Diagnosis: Married | Masterlist The Pitt | Masterlist Main | Masterlist
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Your alarm goes off a little after the first rays of the sun streak through your curtains. You've already been awake for half an hour, staring at the ceiling as you flip through differential diagnoses that you probably won't see on the exam.
It still twists your stomach to think that after this, only the oral boards stand between you and becoming a board-certified physician. It's even hard to wrap your head around the fact that your residency is over, and in just a few days, you'll officially step into your role as an attending physician. The longest and most challenging years of your life are behind you, just like that.
Maybe you should have decided to do a fellowship instead of taking the offer PTMC gave you—are you even ready to have others depend on you to have the answers?
You have to be.
But first, you need to pass this exam—a condition made by the PTMC when they offered you the position, which only makes this day even more nerve-wracking.
You roll out of bed with a sigh, get dressed and then head to the kitchen. You sit at the island, staring blankly at the piece of toast on your plate. Your mouth feels dry.
"You really should eat something." Jack’s voice filters in from behind you, sounding a bit rougher than usual, probably strained from talking all night. He had convinced Robby to come in early so he could be there to drive you. You didn't even have to ask; he simply made the call, leaving no room for discussion. At this moment, with your hands trembling from nerves, you’re grateful you don’t have to deal with public transport.
You steal a glance at him as he leans against the counter, looking more careful than ever. It’s as if he’s making an effort to ease things between you, despite the unresolved tension that lingers. Ever since that conversation, everything has felt off—hesitant. But this morning, it’s like none of that matters. Or perhaps he’s just getting better at masking it.
He takes a few steps forward and nudges your plate closer. "Toast. Half a banana. Something."
You shake your head, eyeing it distrustfully. "I'm gonna throw up."
"You're not," he says.
"I might."
"Then you'll throw up with food in your system."
Despite your nerves, a weak laugh slips out of you. Jack's mouth twitches like he's relieved to hear it.
He turns to the fridge and places a few things inside a paper bag and then pushes it towards you.
"What's this?"
"Emergency provisions," he says. "A sandwich. Pretzels. Protein bar. Water bottle. Some candy."
Despite everything, despite how far away he feels now, he still does this for you. "Jack—"
"Go finish getting ready. I'll make you a smoothie for the car," he says, tilting his head toward your room.
You slide off the chair, murmuring, "Thanks."
He doesn't answer, just turns and grabs the ingredients. You can hear the blender as you throw the last things in your bag. Then you both head to the car.
The drive is quiet, with only the gentle hum of the radio and the rhythmic tapping of Jack's fingers on the steering wheel breaking the silence in the car. You take occasional sips of your smoothie, the liquid gliding down easier than a piece of toast would have. You sit curled in the passenger seat, rereading the testing confirmation email for the hundredth time, even though you already know every detail.
By the time Jack pulls into the testing centre parking lot, your pulse feels like it's vibrating under your skin. You feel nauseous and dizzy at the same time as you step out of the car. Too much hinges on today going well—what if you fuck it up?
"Hey," Jack says, catching your wrist gently.
You look at him, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. He stands closer than he has in days, near enough for you to notice the faint crease between his brows, a mark that's been appearing more often lately. You can’t help but wonder if your own brow mirrors his. Without even realising it, you find yourself following his slow, steady breaths.
Someone passes nearby, and your attention snaps back to the building. Your nerves start churning again.
"You've got this," Jack says.
"Mm," you respond absentmindedly, still not looking at him.
He drops your wrist and cradles your cheeks with both hands, bringing your attention back to him.
"You've got this," he repeats, head tilting to look you deeply in the eye. The way he's looking at you, the softness in his voice, settles painfully behind your ribs. But this is just Jack. He takes care of people. Caring isn't the same as loving.
You nod weakly. His thumbs brush your cheeks lightly, making sure he keeps your attention before it can wander again. He breathes slowly, and you follow his lead.
"Repeat it," he says.
You breathe out. "You've got it," you echo, smirking a little.
"Ha," he huffs, rolling his eyes fondly. His hands leave your cheeks but don't go far, landing on your shoulders instead. "Don’t overthink it. You know what you’re doing."
You don't answer right away, but nod after a moment.
Jack grins and squeezes your shoulders before letting his hands fall down. "Go get them, tiger. I'll see you after."
You hesitate for a second, but then you lean in for a hug. His arms wrap around you immediately, palms rubbing your back gently. You breathe in deeply, letting his scent wash over you, and then you step back.
When you look behind you just before the doors, Jack sends you a thumbs up and mouths another 'you've got this'. You give him a shaky smile, and then you head inside.
After signing in, locking away your phone, and being led to a grey cubicle, the day flattens into hours of clicking through cases—trauma, chest pain, aches—questions that seem straightforward until they aren't.
During breaks, you mechanically chew bites of the sandwich Jack made you.
By the time it’s over, your eyes are stinging, and your brain feels completely drained, running on nothing but adrenaline and sheer determination. Finally, you see it: Exam Complete. It’s a bit underwhelming, really, with no score to indicate how well you did—just an empty screen staring back at you.
As doubts begin to creep in, you step out into the afternoon light, squinting against the brightness.
"Hey, I could use an attending over here," a familiar voice calls. Jack leans against the wall, holding an absurdly large bouquet of flowers, grinning from ear to ear.
You shake your head at him, yet a smile spreads across your face. You're too worn out to put on a facade, and his smile is too contagious. As soon as you reach him, he pulls you into a warm embrace. "Congratulations, sweetheart!"
You pull back enough to look at him. "You don't know if I passed."
He gives you a pointed. "I know. I saw how hard you studied for this." His expression softens as he hands you the flowers. "There's no way you didn't pass."
He gently places a hand on your back, guiding you toward the car. "Now, let's celebrate. You want something to eat?"
"Yes, please!" As the adrenaline begins to fade, your hunger sets in. "Can we get fries?"
Jack chuckles warmly as he opens the passenger door for you. "Of course! We can get whatever you want, honey. It’s your special day."
Jack pulls into a nearby diner, which you pointed out had a sign proclaiming to have 'America's best fries'. The place looks frozen in time—shiny red booths, black-and-white tiled floors, chrome-edged tables, and neon signs glowing softly in the windows despite it still being bright outside. It's perfect.
A sweet older waitress named Ethel seats you in the corner booth and takes your orders. She eyes the presents that Jack has placed on the table with a curious smile—you'd been just as curious when he grabbed them from the back.
"Is it your birthday, sweetie?" she asks.
"Oh no," you shake your head.
"She's just finished her residency," Jack supplies with a proud smile.
"Oh wow," Ethel grins. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you," you say shyly.
Her eyes twinkle mischievously. "I'll be right back," Ethel says, spinning around to give your order to the kitchen.
Jack looks at you. "You wanna open your presents first or talk about the questions?"
Your eyes snap to his, unaware that he'd noticed how your mind was already spiralling.
"Go over them with me," he says. "I'm sure you did great."
He really is. And when he chooses the same answers as you did for all of the questions you remember, he knows you did great. With each confirmation, your shoulders go down minutely, until you're fully relaxed as the food arrives.
As you tear into your fries, Jack watches you across the table. Even tired and still slightly frazzled, you look gorgeous. He knows things have been weird, his fault really, but he hadn't expected you to bring up getting a divorce already. He thought he had more time. He clears his throat before the feeling can sit too long.
"Sorry to cut in," Ethel says as she walks by. In her hands, she holds a massive milkshake, whipped cream balancing precariously. "On the house. Congrats, sweetie."
"Oh wow," you exclaim. "Thank you so much." Your fingers curl around the glass, and you take a big sip.
"This is delicious," you say, lips still wrapped partly around the straw, words coming out jumbled. You push the glass toward him. "Wanna try?"
"Sure." He takes a sip and gives you an approving hum. He's not the biggest fan of milkshake, but when you offer it, it's his favourite drink in the world. "Now, I think it's time to open your presents."
You eye the boxes warily. "Does it matter which one I open first?"
He shakes his head and laughs when you go for the big one first. Exactly what he knew you would do.
You eagerly peel back the wrapping paper, and he can't help but grin when your eyes widen in disbelief. "No way." You rip off the rest of the paper, holding the box with your mouth slightly agape. "Jack—"
You turn it over, still in shock. It’s a Littmann stethoscope. Glancing back at him, you say, "This is way too much."
He shrugs, a smile spreading on his face. "You deserve the best," he replies, not at all concerned about the price when it comes to you.
"I can’t take this," you protest, still staring at the box.
"It would be rude not to," he teases gently. "It’s yours, honey. I doubt anyone else would want it with your initials on it."
"What?" You gulp, brows knitted as his words sink in. Your eyes begin to glisten. "Thank you."
He brushes it off, looking pleased. "Now, open the other one."
You carefully peel back the wrapping paper this time, revealing a velvet box tucked inside.
Jack suddenly regrets everything. Maybe it’s too much. Maybe Parker was wrong. Maybe getting something sentimental after weeks of distance was stupid.
As you gently open the box, the moon pendant on the necklace glimmers in the light of the diner.
"It’s the phase the moon was in when you switched to nights," Jack remarks, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. "I thought it was... kind of fitting, you know? With you being an attending on the night shift now."
For a moment, you’re silent, simply gazing at the pendant and then back at him. Your expression softens—vulnerable enough to tighten something in his chest painfully. "Jack…" you murmur softly.
Your fingers linger over the engraving of your nickname on the back as if you can’t help but keep touching it. Your mouth presses into something smaller, tighter. "You really didn’t have to do all this," you murmur, voice wavering around the edges.
He clears his throat. "I wanted to."
You nod a bit too quickly. "It’s really sweet," you say, already reaching for a smile that feels slightly too rehearsed. You look back down at the necklace again, thumb dragging over the pendant.
"I love it," you add quietly, almost to yourself. "Help me put it on?"
Jack swallows hard and nods.
You don’t mean to, but you nod off during the drive home, lulled into sleep by Jack’s soft humming. The adrenaline from earlier fizzled out during dinner, and now that you have food in your stomach, it’s harder to stay awake.
You stir awake as he pulls into the driveway, and with your eyes still half-closed, you stumble toward the front door. Jack unlocks it and motions for you to go in first. The house is dark and silent, the only noise coming from you as you hang up your jacket. Jack trails closely behind as you make your way to the living room. You don’t notice the tension radiating from him or how he’s practically holding his breath.
Just as you’re about to cross the threshold, the lights come on, and a loud chorus of voices erupts—
"SURPRISE!"
You yelp, stumbling backwards into Jack's chest. He catches you immediately, steadying you.
"Fuck," you gasp, one hand flying to your heart while laughter erupts around the room. Your eyes widen as you take in the scene: people crammed onto the couch, filling the kitchen and dining area—residents, nurses, and attendings, all grinning from ear to ear. Several phones point your way, capturing your shocked reaction.
Streamers hang askew from the ceiling, and a banner taped to the wall behind the couch reads, ‘CONGRATS!’
Parker cackles loudly at your face. "Told you she'd scream."
"You assholes," you breathe out. You turn to Jack with wide eyes. "Did you plan this?"
Suddenly, everything falls into place. The way he kept glancing at his watch and checking his phone before you left the diner.
He nods sheepishly. "Maybe."
Something warm spreads through you. He texted everyone, ensured your favourite people came, decorated, and made sure there’d be food and drinks so you wouldn’t spiral into anxiety alone. Your lip quivers slightly.
"Hey," Jack says softly. "Don't cry, sweetheart. You'll make everyone else cry, and then Shen'll start. Trust me, he’s an ugly crier."
"Hey!" Shen protests as people laugh.
You let out a laugh, blending the emotion bubbling inside you into something manageable. You grab Jack in a tight hug.
His arms wrap around you automatically.
"Thank you," you whisper into his shoulder.
His hand presses gently between your shoulder blades. "You deserve it," he murmurs into your hair.
You pull back to look at him, and you swear you see his eyes flicker down to your lips. The space between you feels charged, almost unbearable, but you turn away before you can dwell on it too long. You leap into the crowd, hugging and laughing your way through the congratulations.
Through it all, every conversation, every hug, every congratulation, you keep finding Jack.
He's mostly hanging back near the kitchen island, letting people have their moment with you. Directing gifts and cards to the foldable table he put up in the dining room. Occasionally, someone claps him on the shoulder, offering their congratulations.
After you've greeted everyone, it's been half an hour. Parker supplied you with a drink somewhere in the middle, and a light buzz has started to spread through you. You find your way back to Jack, bumping your shoulder against his.
"Tired?" he asks.
"A little."
"But happy?" he watches your face carefully, like he's ready to throw everyone out if you ask.
You glance around the room, taking in the lively residents engaged in playful banter, one nurse wrestling with Parker to keep her from popping open champagne indoors, and the precariously hanging banner. You turn to Jack, feeling the warmth radiating off him, and step a little closer.
"Yeah," you smile softly. "Really happy."
Jack beams in return, visibly relieved. "Good."
"Did I miss Robby, somehow?" you ask, taking a sip as you scan the room.
"He's not here yet," Jack replies, something almost boyishly excited in his tone.
Your eyebrows furrow, but before you can question him further, you’re swept into another wave of congratulations as more day shift staff arrive.
The front door opens after a little while. The sound barely carries over the music and chatter, but you’ve been wondering what Jack and Robby are up to since your conversation with Jack. Without hesitation, you step out into the hallway.
Robby steps in first, his tall frame ducking slightly as he walks through the doorway, even though it’s more than high enough for him. The moment he spots you, a grin spreads across his face.
"Robby!" you grin, swaying slightly as you step forward. "You made it!"
"Of course, I did," he replies, opening his arms just in time for you to collide into him. "My best resident's an attending now. And soon enough, board-certified, too. Wouldn't miss it for the world!"
"Best resident?" Trinity says as she passes by, squeezing your shoulder. "Rude."
"Talk to me when you stop falling asleep while charting," he shoots back.
"Make it more exciting then," she replies, leaving before he can answer.
There's a light tap on your shoulder. "Do I get a hug too, or are you too good for us ordinary folks now?"
Your body stills as you recognise the familiar cadence. "No way," you breathe, turning to face her.
Olivia grins at you when you nearly smack into her.
"Liv!" you squeal, wrapping your arms around her tightly. The two of you bounce in place, laughing together as Robby squeezes past with an amused chuckle.
"Oh my god," you gasp. "Oh my god, you're here!"
"I am," she laughs.
"How? What? When?" you pull back, but grab her hands immediately.
She laughs. "Jack called me. Paid for my ticket, too."
Your head snaps to the living room, where Jack stands with a beer bottle, watching the entire scene unfold with quiet amusement. "He did?" you ask, still looking at him.
Jack shrugs one shoulder, like flying your best friend into town isn't a big deal.
Olivia squeezes your hands. Because she knows better than you what's going through your head. You have nowhere to put the feeling, so you squeeze back hard.
"Oh no," she says playfully. "You’re not going to start crying, are you? Because then I’ll cry too."
"I'm not," you reassure her, sniffling a little.
"Mm," she huffs, smiling at you.
You laugh shakily and pull her into another hug. "I'm just so happy you're here."
"I’m really proud of you," she whispers in your ear. "Now, enough of the mushy stuff," she says, pulling back and quickly wiping her eyes. "Let’s get wasted!"
After introductions have been made and you've thanked Jack once again, Olivia pulls you out on the terrace. It's a little quieter outside, music humming faintly through the half-open door and laughter drifting out every few minutes.
Someone—likely Jack—has strung warm lights along the fence, casting a gentle glow around the edges of the yard. A few people linger in the far corner, drinks in hand, deeply engaged in conversation. They smile at you but don’t pay much attention otherwise.
As you sink into the lounger, it creaks softly beneath you, and a wave of exhaustion washes over you now that no one is tugging at your attention. The weight of the last few weeks—filled with the adrenaline and stress of the exam, along with all the emotions you’ve been avoiding—settles heavily in your bones.
Olivia sits down beside you, curling one leg beneath her. For a while, you both sit in silence, taking in the pink and gold sky above. You hadn't realised how badly you needed her here until she was.
She nudges your knee with hers. "You good?"
The automatic answer almost comes out. Yeah. Fine. Tired. But since it’s Liv asking, you look down at your drink instead and reply, "…Maybe."
Inside, silhouettes move through the house, and you catch a glimpse of Shen animatedly telling a story, Parker wearing a disbelieving frown nearby. And then there’s Jack—he’s half-listening to someone while refilling bowls and checking if the fridge is stocked. He laughs, his gaze drifting until he finally spots you outside. Something in his shoulders eases when he does.
As his gaze shifts back to whoever he’s talking to, Olivia watches you quietly. "Can I ask you something?"
You turn to her again. "That depends."
A tiny smile flickers across her face. "Are you actually sure," she asks carefully, "that the two of you are having the same conversation?"
You frown at her.
She shrugs. "I know what you said, but from where I'm standing…" Her eyes flick briefly to the window again. "…he doesn't exactly look emotionally detached."
You sigh, fingers tightening around your cup. "That's just Jack."
"He flew me across the country." She bumps her shoulder into yours as she leans back. "He called me, like… three? Maybe four weeks ago?"
"Really?"
"Mm," she hums. "Told me he was planning a surprise and that he wanted me there. He thought it wouldn’t feel right if I wasn’t."
Something warm and painful settles low in your chest.
"And," she adds, "he made Robby pick me up because he said if he left to get me, there was too high a chance that you'd notice something weird."
You blink.
"I'm just saying," she says, "that's a lot of effort."
"He likes taking care of people," you reply with a forced shrug.
"Sure. But this?" She gestures vaguely toward the house. "This feels a little above average."
You fall silent.
"You didn't hear the conversation," you say quietly instead. Heat creeps into your face. You hate it when she says things like that. Because you can't help but wonder if she's on to something.
Olivia’s expression softens. "Okay. But from where I’m sitting?" Her gaze drifts back to Jack, who’s already checking the window again. "That man doesn’t look like someone trying to leave."
Your chest tightens, and your head spins, caught at a crossroads. You want to believe her so badly. You really do. But hope is what led you here in the first place.
"Just..." she nudges your knee again. "Don't make permanent decisions based on assumptions."
The party grows louder as the night settles in. Music drifts through the house beneath the constant hum of overlapping conversations. Empty bottles and half-finished drinks crowd the coffee table and kitchen counters.
You’re standing near the kitchen island with Olivia, laughing at something Robby has just said, when the sharp clink of glass cuts through the chatter. Conversations begin to fade one by one.
Jack stands by the dining table, a beer bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other, looking somewhat embarrassed by the sudden focus on him.
"Oh no," you murmur immediately.
"Speech! Speech! Speech!" the crowd chants in unison.
"Don’t encourage him," you warn, shooting them all a firm look.
Jack rolls his eyes, but you can see the slight tension in his shoulders as he glances around the room. Public speaking has never bothered him—he can run the Pitt without blinking—but this is different. This is personal.
His gaze finds yours and softens. The room quiets completely.
Jack clears his throat, "Okay. I wanna say a few words about my incredible wife."
Your breath catches a little at how easily he says those words.
The room collectively lets out an exaggerated chorus of 'awws'.
"Shut up, "Jack retorts flatly, though a smile breaks through. "She took her written boards today—which, for the record, I know she passed." He blinks at you, ignoring your head shake, and speaks directly to you. "You’re the hardest-working person I’ve ever met," he says quietly, "—and the most stubborn."
"You can't say that in a toast," you protest, laughing.
"I absolutely can," he replies confidently. "I’ve watched you spend years becoming the doctor people trust on their worst days." His mouth curves slightly. "I've also seen you survive residency fuelled by caffeine, spite and terrifying levels of determination."
Laughter erupts around the room.
"You care more than anyone I know,” Jack continues once it settles down. "About your patients. About your coworkers. About doing things right. The Pitt is better with you in it." He pauses, looking around the room. People eagerly lift their glasses, cheering their approval.
Jack shifts his weight, turning back to you. "And now it looks like I have to work with you as an attending."
"Don't say it like it's a burden," you call out.
"It is," he says dryly. "Because you're gonna show us all up."
"Damn right she is," Parker shouts, and the room cheers, prompting a soft laugh from Jack.
"I can’t wait for you to join nights again," he says, directing a pointed look at Robby, "—where you belong—"
You laugh at the grimace on Robby's face.
Jack continues, "—even if you're gonna steal all my favourite nurses."
"They already like me better," you say automatically, letting the alcohol drown any thoughts of Lily.
"See?" he tells the room, "Nightmare coworker."
Laughter fills the space again, but his eyes remain locked on yours. Then, speaking more softly, he says, "I’m really proud of you." He exhales quietly. "I know today was tough. I’m aware of the pressure you put on yourself. But I need you to understand," —his voice drops lower— "you earned this. You’re an amazing doctor."
The tears you had managed to hold back threaten to spill over. Liv subtly hands you a napkin. Your fingers find the moon pendant at your throat without thinking.
Jack's expression softens when he sees your face. And then he says the words he won't ever say in private. "I love you." His eyes don't leave yours. Something in his expression shifts—softer, almost wary.
The room melts around you. You wish, just for a second, that you could believe him. Maybe you would have—if this had been private. If he hadn’t said it with people watching. If it hadn’t come wrapped inside a toast and soft laughter, and the role you've trapped him inside.
He's your husband. Of course, he says I love you. What else is he supposed to say?
Jack looks at you for a second longer before clearing his throat roughly and turning back to everyone else. He lifts his bottle into the air. "To Trouble!"
The room echoes his sentiment. You manage a shaky smile through teary eyes, feeling Liv squeeze your hand.
"Okay, enough of the sappy stuff," he announces. "There’s cake in the kitchen and more drinks in the fridge. Have fun!"
He stops to add, "Oh—and if anybody starts discussing actual medicine tonight, I'm kicking you out!"
The room instantly bursts into noise and movement. You catch Jack’s arm as he walks past you.
"Thank you," you murmur, then step back, reaching for another drink. Jack catches your hand, like he wants to stop you from walking away.
Then he drops your hand again.
A little while later, you've been sent to the kitchen for more drinks by Parker and Trinity. Mel asked you more nicely.
Jack is already there, half inside the fridge, shifting bottles around. "What do you need?" he asks, without turning around.
"Two seltzers and two beers."
"All out of seltzers," he says without looking at you. "I'll go get some more." He shuts the fridge with his shoulder.
You don’t move right away. Neither does he. It stretches for a second too long before he nods toward the door. "You coming?"
You pretend to think about it, grinning slightly. "Do I have to?"
"No," he says, shrugging like it doesn't mean anything to him.
You follow him out anyway and pretend not to notice the smile on his face when you do.
Jack flips the garage light on and steps inside first. There are cases stacked against the wall, a half-open box of cups, and some random folding chairs shoved into the corner. It's cluttered in a lived-in way.
You reach for a case at the same time he does, your fingers brushing against each other.
"I’ve got it," he says, pulling away slowly. He adjusts his grip on the case, then shifts slightly so you can reach the cups.
"Thanks." You grab a sleeve, and when you straighten up, he’s already holding the door open for you. You pass him, close enough that your shoulder almost catches his chest.
Later in the evening, you find yourself sitting sideways on the couch, your head resting against the cushion as you half-listen to the radiologist whom Lily has been seeing. He'd brought a sweet card from her, giving you her apologies for having to work. Parker's vetted him earlier, and after about five minutes of questioning, you also deem him acceptable. He’s nice, sporting a bright smile that rivals Lily's in its brilliance, and he’s funny too—though maybe that’s just the alcohol coursing through your veins. As he recounts a story about misreading a scan, you chuckle into your cup.
"Hey, can I steal you for a second?" Jack’s voice cuts through your laughter, low and tense. His hand lands on your shoulder and slides down to grasp your hand, and before you can respond, he pulls you up and away. Your drink sloshes against your palm.
You glance back at the radiologist, whose name escapes you, offering an apologetic smile, but he waves you off with a smile.
As Jack pulls you through people toward his room, you twist your arm. "What's going on?"
He doesn't answer. He pushes the door open and pulls you inside, shutting it with more force than necessary. For a heartbeat, he stands there with his back to you, breathing heavily.
You wipe your hand on your pants and set the drink down on the dresser. "Jack?"
He turns around, his attempt at restraint already unravelling. His eyes are stormy, darker than usual. "You having fun?"
"Yeah?"
"It looked that way."
You frown at him.
"I know you've already decided how this ends—" he says, voice low and tense, "But don't do that in front of me."
Your brows shoot up. "Do what?"
"Least of all in my house," he continues, taking a step forward.
"What are you talking about?"
He exhales sharply, clearly struggling to rein in his emotions. "You know."
Irritation flares in your chest. "No? Because from where I was standing, I was having a normal conversation until you dragged me in here like I did something wrong."
His voice rises, filled with frustration. "You were all over him."
You step forward defiantly. "I was talking to him."
"You were laughing with him," Jack says, stepping closer. "For forty-five minutes."
"That's how conversations work, Jack. And it wasn’t even that long."
He scoffs, crossing his arms. "You could at least show some decency."
Your brows furrow, incredulous. You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, "Decency? You're lecturing me about decency? That's rich."
His expression hardens. He’s close enough now that you can smell the beer and cake on his breath. "I don't understand what your problem is. You know what you're doing."
"My problem?" You take another step forward, refusing to back down. "My problem is you pulling me in here like I did something wrong while you’ve been flirting in front of me for weeks."
He blinks, his brows furrowing. "What? I haven't flirted with anyone."
You stare at him, crossing your arms. "Right. So, I've just been imagining things?"
He stares back at you, searching your face, then his nostrils flare. "Are you just trying to change the subject?"
"Are you?" you retort. You have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, mere inches apart now.
His breath hitches, and his eyes flicker down for a moment. "Jesus, what don't you get? You know I lo—"
Then the doorknob rattles
Your eyes widen as panic rushes across both your faces—the thought of someone walking in would be disastrous. Questions, rumours, explanations that neither of you can manage right now.
But beneath that panic lies something else: the way he stands too close, the jealousy lacing his voice, the realisation that for one fleeting moment, he sounded like he cared. Like he was hurt.
Without thinking, you react.
It's not gentle. Nothing about it is careful. It's frustration, anger, and heat colliding in a motion too fast to stop.
Jack freezes for half a heartbeat, maybe less, as if he can’t believe this is happening. Then something in him gives way. His hand wraps around your waist firmly, pulling you closer, while the other winds into your hair, tilting your head back as he kisses you deeply.
He turns you without breaking the kiss, and you feel your back hit the dresser. Woods digs into your hips, but you don't care. You try to swallow a moan as he licks into your mouth, but it still comes out broken.
Jack groans at the sound.
The door opens behind you—
"Oh shit—sorry!" a voice giggles, and then the door shuts again.
You move to pull back, but Jack simply follows. He crowds you closer, one hand gliding down your thigh and lifting you in one smooth move onto the edge of the dresser. You don't even register it properly—just the shift, the heat, the closeness of him. Your legs part to make room for him.
The kiss is still intense, angry, loaded with everything neither of you has said aloud for weeks. The anger burns hot at first. Weeks of hurt. Silences. Jealousy. Frustration.
It tastes sharp.
But somewhere between one breath and the next, it changes. Not softer. Like neither of you wants to stop long enough to remember why you should.
You let it go on longer than you should have, fingers gliding through the hair at the nape of his neck, brushing against the slight stubble on his cheeks, and then trailing down to his chest again. You soak in the sounds he makes, the softness of his lips, and the faint taste of beer lingering on him.
He mutters against your lips, "Please don’t make this harder—" but the rest fades away as reality crashes back in. You break the kiss, barely pulling away, your breath uneven, your foreheads nearly touching.
"Jack…" you murmur. "We…We shouldn't." You force yourself to resist the urge to lean in again, reminding yourself he’s drunk, and this isn’t what he truly wants.
Jack stills immediately. The air between you, once heated, cools instantly. He pulls back, looking at you with blown pupils, and whatever he sees there makes him falter.
He nods and retreats quickly, like he’s been burned. The sudden gap between you feels worse than if he had stayed angry. "No, you’re right."
"I—" you say as you watch the gap between you grow back again, heart pounding painfully behind your ribs. "Jack—"
"Hey, can I come in?" Olivia's voice floats through the door, slightly muffled and slurred. "I've got beer all over me—I need a shower before I start fermenting."
Jack watches you silently, like he's begging you not to answer.
You wet your lips, forcing your voice to work. "…Yeah."
The door swings open, and she halts mid-step, taking in the scene before her. Her eyes dart from you to Jack. "Should I—" she begins, stepping back.
"I'll go," Jack interrupts and brushes past her.
She stares down the hallway for a moment before closing the door behind her and locking it. "What was that about?"
You gaze at the floor, shrugging awkwardly. "…We kissed."
Her expression shifts immediately. "What?" she asks sharply.
Your stomach twists. "It—" you swallow, trying to push the ache down. "I don't know—" Your voice cracks at the end despite your best effort to remain steady.
"Oh, honey," she says, crossing the room to sit beside you on the dresser without hesitation, pulling you into her non-beer-soaked side. "Hey, hey—look at me."
At first, you can’t. She nudges you gently, then pinches your side until you meet her gaze.
"Everything's fucked," you tell her with a wet laugh.
She doesn’t respond, nor does she try to convince you otherwise. Instead, she pulls you closer, letting you cry it out.
Once your breathing slows, she leans her head against yours. "Did he kiss you back?"
You laugh wetly. "That’s not exactly the problem."
Olivia studies you. “Okay. We’re unpacking this tomorrow when you're not drunk."
For a while, neither of you says anything. Then Olivia heads into the bathroom. The shower runs softly while you shift to sit on the edge of the bed. Laughter and music drift faintly through the door.
Your chest aches in that dull, exhausted way heartbreak settles after it's done tearing through you. You don’t know what tonight meant, what the kiss signified, or what he meant by, “please don’t make it harder…”
You wipe at your face roughly, feeling humiliated.
Olivia peeks out from behind the shower curtain, her face partially visible through the cracked door.
"...Okay," she says cautiously. "I have gossip."
You blink. "What?"
Her mouth twitches. "Important gossip."
Despite yourself, a tired laugh escapes. "Liv, what did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," she says quickly. "Someone else did something."
"…Who?"
She's silent.
"No way."
She tries very hard to maintain her composure and fails immediately, breaking into a grin. "He spilt his beer on me and then—"
"You kissed Robby?" you gasp in disbelief.
Her grin only widens. "Don’t be mad."
You blink at her in disbelief, once, twice. "Oh my god," you laugh. "I can’t believe you."
"Are you mad?" she asks, biting her lip nervously.
"No!" you immediately reassure her. You're really not. "I just...didn't realise that was a thing."
"Well, to be fair," she laughs, stepping back under the water. "Neither did I until about half an hour ago."
The party thins out a little after midnight. Jack and you cross paths a few times, but he doesn't really look at you, no matter how hard you're trying to catch his eye. You didn't realise how much you'd depended on it before.
For the last few hours, you’ve been drifting through the evening, going through the motions without really being present. You smile through well-wishes, laugh at the appropriate moments without any real feeling, and hum along to the music without actually listening. Even through the blur of everything with Jack, you catch the few lingering looks from Robby in Olivia’s direction, like something has shifted slightly.
It's the only good thing you have to hold on to right now,
You guide a very drunk Olivia into your bed while Jack and Robby are busy clearing bottles off the terrace after saying goodbye to the last few guests. As you head to the kitchen for a glass of water, your steps slow when you hear their voices coming from the hallway. You find yourself pausing near the counter, unable to help it.
"You good?" Robby asks.
There’s a pause—a long one for such a simple question.
"Yeah," Jack finally answers. "I'm fine."
"That's not what it looks like," Robby says.
You hear Jack exhale. "It’s nothing," he says. "I just… I should’ve handled things differently."
You hear the jingle of keys. Robby doesn't respond right away, letting the silence prompt Jack to continue.
"I thought I had more control over it. That I could keep it contained."
"But you can’t," Robby states, not posing it as a question.
Jack emits a broken laugh. "No. I should’ve never agreed to this."
You bite your lip harshly.
"Brother," Robby says, shifting slightly, "That's not true—"
"It's gone too far now and I—"
You hold your breath. A chill spreads through your chest at his words. Gone too far. Deep down, you knew he regretted this. Now, you have it in plain words.
You don’t wait for him to finish. You step back before your body even catches up with the words, pulse roaring in your ears. Your bedroom door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, it feels like everything is about to break open.
But it doesn’t.
Whatever was building just… stalls out. You blink once, then again, waiting for the tears to catch up. They don’t. There's just a dull pressure behind your eyes that never quite turns into anything.
a/n: don't hate me too much! i know you're all gonna scream at me for this ending but the angst is almost over!! promise <333 and thank you everyone who sent in ideas for jack's gift to trouble! i already had the stethoscope idea planned and i'm very happy so many of you agreed!!
SHAWN HATOSY as JACK ABBOT The Pitt | 9:00 P.M. (2.15)
𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝? 𝐗𝐕𝐈 ⚕ 𝐉.𝐀.
summary: One glitchy tablet, one HR email, and suddenly you’re married to your attending, Jack Abbot. HR thinks it was intentional and has already started merging your records. Claim it was a mistake, and your residency could be delayed. With only three months left until you're an attending, Jack agrees to play along. Pretending to be married might save your career—but can your heart survive the side effects?
tags: accidental marriage, slow burn romance, HR involvement, nosy coworkers, reader is a PGY-4 resident, jack is not a widow in this fic, possible medical/legal inaccuracies, mutual pining, angst, two people being dumbasses
word count: 9.8k
a/n: surprise—you get it one day earlier!! thank you all for still keeping up with this series and interacting!! your comments are the best part of my day <33 i hope you enjoy! and as always, since this is an ongoing process, your ideas and thoughts for future scenes are more than welcome! big kisses to everyone who has sent in ideas already<33
i'm not keeping a tag list for this series anymore. follow the diagnosis: married? masterlist and turn on notifications instead <33
Diagnosis: Married | Masterlist The Pitt | Masterlist Main | Masterlist
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It takes a good half hour before you're able to catch your breath enough to speak. By the time you finally reach for your phone, your lungs are aching from sobbing, your eyes are swollen, and your whole face feels hot and tight. The t-shirt you had under your scrubs is drenched from the number of times you've lifted it to dry your eyes.
Your hands shake so badly that it takes two attempts to tap Olivia's name. As the phone rings, your fingers twist into the duvet, trying to steady yourself.
"Hey, what's up?" Olivia answers, her voice warm but laced with concern. It's not like you to call without warning, and especially not at this hour. "What's wrong?"
You open your mouth, but no words come out. Instead, a shaky breath escapes you, followed by another. Olivia waits patiently through the silence.
"What happened?" she asks gently after a moment.
You press your lips together, trying to compose yourself, but your voice still cracks when you finally speak. "I'm so stupid."
"What?" she says immediately. "No, you’re not."
A sharp laugh escapes you. You wipe roughly at your face, trying to force the tears in again. "You don’t even know what I’m talking about."
"I don't need to," Olivia insists. "You're not stupid."
"I'm not too sure about that." You shake your head even though she can't see it, then stare blankly at the wall. "I was wrong. He doesn't—he doesn't love me, Liv."
The words tumble out, broken and raw, now that you've begun.
"He doesn't even want me. He was just—" Your voice catches. "He was just being nice, and I turned into something more. Something it wasn't."
"Okay, hold on. Why do you think that?"
"Because I saw it."
"Saw what?"
"The way he looks at her," you shrug. "The way he talks to her. He’s so gentle with her, Liv." Your breath shudders as you remember how Jack looked at Lily. The fear in his eyes. The anger when it had been directed at you. "And here I was, thinking he looked at me like that when he doesn't. Hasn't ever." You rub your eyes harshly. "God, I'm such a fool."
Olivia is quiet for a second, trying to keep up. "Okay, who are we talking about?"
You let out a bitter laugh. "Lily—she's one of the nurses."
"So... You think Jack is in love with Lily?" Olivia doesn't have to speak her disbelief aloud; it saturates her every word. But she hasn't seen what you have.
"I know it."
"You do not know that," she counters firmly.
"Yes, I do!" you snap, sitting up as if anger might help hold you together. "I saw how he was with her."
"What did you actually see?" she presses.
"Why? So you can explain why I’m overreacting? I'm not overreacting!"
Olivia sighs softly on the other end. "I'm trying to understand what happened," she says gently.
"Lily got hurt, and he looked terrified. He was just—he was so careful with her. And so angry with me because he thought I made it worse."
"And that means he’s in love with her?"
"Yes!" The word bursts out too quickly, too loudly. You pull your knees to your chest, trying to hold yourself together.
"Okay," she says. "But people look scared when someone gets hurt. That doesn’t mean they’re in love."
You let out a hollow laugh that breaks into a half-sob. "You don’t understand. It's not just that."
"Then help me understand," she says. "Because the last time I saw him, he was completely smitten with you."
"Well, you were wrong about that. Because it was never me." Your voice breaks on the last word. "I thought all those little moments meant something, but they really didn’t. I thought..." you swallow. "Never mind what I thought. He asks about her. He laughs with her. He likes her. "
You can hear Olivia shift her position, thinking her words through before she speaks again. "Did Jack ever tell you he has feelings for her?"
"...No."
"Did he tell you he doesn’t want you?"
"...No."
"Then why are you acting like this is a fact?"
"Because she’s everything I’m not," you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "She’s calm, and kind, and easy to be around. She isn’t trouble, she isn’t messy—she doesn’t complicate everything."
"Honey—"
"And I do," you continue, your voice cracking more with each word. "I make everything harder."
"No, you don't—"
"God, I’m so embarrassed." Your breathing comes out in uneven bursts. "I was crawling into his bed every night, Liv. Every night. And he never even asked me to. I thought he wanted me there, but he was probably just too nice to tell me to stop."
"That is not what this sounds like," Olivia says.
Your voice sharpens. "Then what does it sound like?"
She sighs. "It sounds like you’re hurt and jumping to conclusions. People don't share that kind of space with someone they don't want."
You let out a scoff. "Of course you’d say that."
"Because I know you," Olivia says gently. "And because nothing you’re telling me proves that he doesn’t care about you."
Your eyes fill with tears again, your anger deflating. "He doesn’t care the way I care."
"You don't know that."
"Yes," you reply. "I do."
"Hey, listen to me," Olivia says, her voice growing firmer. "You’re scared, so you’re turning your worst fear into the truth."
Deep down, you know she might be right. But the other part—the louder part—keeps replaying Jack’s face and the panic in his eyes and the tenderness in his hands as he cradled Lily's face.
"I can’t do this," you whisper. "I can’t stay there and pretend I’m okay while he falls in love with someone else."
"Honey—"
Your lips quiver. "And the worst part is, I still want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. I just don't know if I'm strong enough to pretend that I don't care."
Olivia shifts on the other end, but you continue before she can speak.
"Robby asked me to move to the day shift temporarily, but maybe I'll see if I can stay there permanently."
"He did what?" Olivia's voice sharpens instantly. "Are you serious?" She lets out an irritated breath. "Never mind. Let's hold off on any big decisions right now. You need some sleep, and then we can revisit this tomorrow, okay?"
You bit the inside of your cheek instead of answering. "I wish you were here," you whisper.
"Me too," Olivia replies. "But I’m just a phone call away. Everything will be alright, and I need you to promise me you won’t make any decisions today."
You let out a shaky breath. "I’m not sure."
"Promise me."
You squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. "…Okay."
"Good," she says softly. "I promise it’ll be fine," she adds. "And I never break my promises. You know that. I still can’t look at pictures from my first year in college—pink hair really didn’t suit me."
You laugh, even though it’s a shaky sound. But it’s a laugh, nonetheless. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to you soon." You sniffle, wiping your eyes. "Love you."
"Love you more," she says.
The call ends, and the room feels unbearably quiet. You curl tighter around yourself beneath the blankets, staring into the dark. No matter what Olivia says, you know what you saw. You know what it meant.
You're still not asleep when footsteps sound outside the door, but you don't rise from the bed. You won't disturb him anymore because Jack doesn't belong to you any more now than he did when this all started.
Jack walks through the front door nearly three hours later than he was supposed to. Day shift had been short a resident, and when the replacement called to say they were running late, Jack stayed behind to help. A thing he never should have said yes to, because half an hour in, they were slammed with multiple traumas.
And as he moved through them, fully present as he answered questions and guided residents, in the breaks in between, his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Home. With you.
Because the whole shift, one recurring thought had weighed heavily on his chest, a weight that made it harder to breathe: he had hurt you.
You'd assured him it was fine. Had looked him in the eye and said it was over, that it had just been the heat of the moment. But Jack knew better. He knew the difference between your real smile and the thin, careful one you’d given him outside the ambulance bay. He hated that he was the reason for it.
He'd replayed that scene over and over again; you throwing yourself at danger without any fear, how that patient had lunged at you, the violent rush of panic that shot through him when he realised just how close that first had come to your face, and the subsequent relief when you were okay.
A relief so sharp it had made him feel sick. Because the ugly truth was that for that split second, all he could think was: thank god it wasn’t you in that headlock. Lily had been hurt—she had bruises forming around her throat, was coughing and shaken, and needed care—and all Jack could feel was sheer, overwhelming relief that it wasn’t you.
The guilt of that still sat bitter in his stomach.
Then that fear—that sick, helpless fear—had spiralled into anger before he could rein it in. Anger was easier. Easier than admitting his hands had been trembling. Easier than saying: I thought I was about to watch you get hurt, and it would have shattered me.
So instead of telling you how proud he was—how fearless you had been, how quickly you had moved, how you had stepped in without hesitation to protect someone—he snapped at you. Scolded you in front of everyone. He had made you feel reckless. He had made you feel small. And worst of all, he had called you trouble.
The word still echoes in his mind as he drives home, hands tight on the wheel. He'd usually say it in a soft tone to tease you, but it was always fond, never cruel. But tonight, he had thrown it at you like an accusation.
And he hates that. Because you are trouble. But never in the way he’d made it sound. You were trouble because you had somehow made his world rearrange itself around you. Because his pulse spiked when you were close. Because his whole body knew the difference between you and everyone else. Because the idea of losing you hollowed him out.
That was what he’d meant. Not that you were a burden or difficult to deal with. Not that you were something to endure. But the moment the word left his mouth, all that tenderness had turned into something sharp enough to wound you.
Now all he could think about was getting home to you and making things right. He would apologise again. Hell, he’d even beg if that’s what it took. He’d sit on the edge of his bed and tell you exactly what he should’ve expressed in the hallway—that he’d been terrified, that none of it was your fault, that seeing you throw yourself into danger scared him to his core.
He’d tell you he was so sorry. He’d tell you he never intended to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.
But by the time he gets home, the house is dark and quiet. He glances automatically down the hallway. Your door is shut, not cracked open the way it usually is. Jack pauses for half a second, staring at it. Then he tells himself not to read into it. You could still be waiting for him like usual.
He makes a point of stepping down as he walks past your room, letting his feet hit the floor harder than necessary. He waits a second, ears straining, but he hears nothing. Not yet. So he heads to the shower, washing the hospital smell off as fast as he can. Afterwards, he climbs into bed and leaves the bedside lamp on. And then he waits.
Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. Jack glances at the clock. Still nothing. He tells himself you're probably coming soon. Twenty minutes slip by. He reaches for his phone, checks it, then sets it back down. Thirty minutes pass. For one reckless second, he thinks about going to your door—knocking softly, apologising half asleep if he has to. But the thought of waking you, of asking for comfort after being the one who hurt you, keeps him rooted where he is.
He stares at the doorway, the bedside lamp still casting warm light across the empty room, but the sheets beside him stay untouched. There's no soft knock at the door, no sleepy smile, no weight dipping the mattress beside him. Slowly, the awful reality settles over him. You’re not coming tonight.
He sits there for another few minutes anyway, staring at the doorway like he can will you to appear. Maybe you’re asleep already. Maybe you were too tired after the shift to wait for him.
No matter how much he tries to explain it, he just can't shake that awful feeling. And for the first time in weeks, Jack falls asleep alone. Or he tries to.
Jack wakes with an ache in his limbs that he hasn't felt in a long time. But he doesn't have to wonder why, not when he's spent most of the day thinking rather than sleeping. The few hours of broken sleep that he had got weren't enough to dull the pain.
He stares at the ceiling for another minute and then pushes himself upright. He can still fix this. So he dresses and slips out of the house quietly.
The flowers are impulsive. He sees them outside the grocery store—soft pink and white tulips wrapped in brown paper—and buys them without thinking about it too long. Because they feel like something, something that says I'm sorry better than words might.
He's never been good at words.
Then he grabs breakfast. Coffee for both of you. Pancakes and eggs—the kind of breakfast you love on lazy mornings.
He balances everything awkwardly as he lets himself back into the house, feeling insanely nervous. He tells himself not to be. It was just an argument. People have arguments all the time. He’s just apologising. And yet his pulse picks up when he walks down the hallway toward your room.
He knocks softly, waiting for you to answer before he pushes the door open with his shoulder. You're sitting up in bed, wrapped in the blankets, the room dim except for the afternoon light leaking through the slightly opened curtains.
You turn your head to look at him, and for a moment, relief eases the tightness in his chest—until he sees your face and how puffy your eyes look. A rush of guilt overtakes it so fast it almost hurts and makes the knot even tighter than it was before.
"Hey," he says quietly, watching you carefully.
You glance at the flowers, then at the food, and a small smile graces your lips, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. "Wow," you say. "What’s all this?"
Jack steps inside, carefully setting everything on the bedside table. "Peace offering," he tries to smile at you, but it falls flat.
"You didn’t have to do that," you say.
He shrugs, holding out the flowers to you instead of answering.
You take them after a brief hesitation. "They’re beautiful."
Jack lingers at the edge of your bed for a second before sitting down cautiously. "I’m really sorry about last night."
You shake your head immediately. "It’s okay."
The words hit him wrong immediately—too quick, too flat, like you're trying to smooth over something that still hurts.
"No," he says firmly. "It’s not. I was out of line."
You look down at the flowers in your lap. "Jack—"
"I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that."
You nod once, still avoiding his gaze. "Okay."
The word makes something twist painfully in his chest because that’s not like you. Usually, you’d argue with him. Tell him he was being a dick or tease him for spiralling. But now you’re just... accepting it.
For one brief second, he wonders if this is about more than last night—if something else is wrong—but guilt crushes the thought almost as soon as it appears. Of course, this is because of him. He did this.
He leans forward slightly, desperate for you to know, to see just how sorry he is. "I was scared," he admits.
That finally gets you to look up, but your expression remains unreadable. "I know."
"No, I mean it." His hands instinctively clasp together as he searches for the right words. He wants to hold yours instead, but he isn't sure you'd let him. "When that guy swung at you, I thought—" He exhales shakily. "I just lost it. That doesn’t excuse what I said, but I need you to know where it came from. Still, I’m really sorry."
You nod again. "I understand." Your voice is calm, and there's no anger or hurt on your face.
Jack studies you more intently now. "Did I make you cry?" he asks quietly. He already knows the answer to that. Can see it in your face. In how tears seem to bead at your waterline again. His hand twitches at his side, the urge to reach for you almost unbearable, but he stops himself.
Your shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly. "No."
"Sweetheart—"
Before he can say more, you reach for the book on the bedside table, settling back against the pillows. "It’s fine, Jack," you say with your eyes fixed on the book rather than on him. "Really." You lift the book slightly. "I need to study."
The sound of paper rustling fills the silence between you.
Jack sits there for a moment, staring at the side of your face. He swallows. "I don’t want this to sit between us."
You shrug slightly, still not looking at him. "It’s not."
But it is. He can feel it—how your body is angled away from him, how you avoid his gaze, how the food sits untouched beside you. He wants to keep pushing—to ask what’s wrong, to make you talk to him, to somehow force the warmth back into the room—but the tension in your shoulders tells him that pressing further would only make things worse.
So instead, he nods once. "Okay."
You don’t answer.
He stands slowly. "Eat before it gets cold."
"I will."
You still don't look up at him. Jack hesitates by the door. Waiting, maybe, for you to call him back. For you to soften. For something. But your gaze stays fixed on the book.
So he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. It's only once he’s in the hallway that he lets out the breath he’s been holding. This feels worse than if you’d yelled at him, because at least anger would mean you were still letting him in.
But this carefulness, this distance—it’s unbearable, and he doesn't know how to fix it.
Later that evening, there's a warm and rich smell of garlic and spices drifting out from the kitchen, filling the house in a way that makes everything feel normal again.
Jack sits on the couch, watching you move around in the kitchen, the TV on low in the background. He'd offered his help, but you'd refused, pointing him towards the couch, telling him to relax before work. You'd pointed out that he was the one in scrubs and not you before he had a chance to argue otherwise. Even though you had rejected him, it had been said lightly with a shake of your head and a gentle 'I've got it', and it hadn't felt like you didn't want him there. The soft pat on his bicep had been the selling point that things might not be as bad as he thought earlier. Maybe you'd just needed a few hours alone for things to be good again.
He sinks deeper into the cushions, breathing out slowly as he listens to the familiar sounds of you in the kitchen—cabinets opening, a pan clinking against the stove, the low hum he doesn't think you even notice you make. It feels so normal that it almost makes him forget how tense everything had felt earlier.
You were okay now. You had to be. You’d even laughed at him. It was just a small thing he said—something he can’t even remember the exact words of now—but you'd laughed. That had to be good.
When you finally step back into the living room, it’s with two bowls in your hands. "Here," you say lightly, placing them on the coffee table.
Jack smiles. "Thank you."
You give him a quick, easy glance, and that simplicity settles him even more. It’s nothing like this morning—the book, the silence, the way you avoided meeting his eyes. This is good. This is you.
You disappear back into the kitchen before he can say anything else, and he watches you go for a moment longer than he means to.
You place a container on the kitchen island. "For later," you call out to him. "You’ll forget to eat otherwise."
"I don’t always forget," he retorts with a smirk.
"You do," you reply immediately, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Jack grins more genuinely this time. "Okay, fair enough."
Leaning against the counter, arms loosely folded, you watch him now. There’s still something subtly different about you if he looks too closely—the way your smile fades the second he looks away, the way your arms stay folded like you’re holding something in. A softness that feels… a bit guarded. But it isn’t sharp. It isn’t pulling away. So he doesn’t question it, afraid to ruin it. Instead, he just nods toward the food. "You didn’t have to do all this."
"I know," you shrug, sliding onto the couch next to him. Your leg nearly brushes his. "Did you talk to Robby yesterday?"
"I did," he says, shovelling a bite into his mouth. "This is good," he points down at his bowl.
You don't answer that but shift in your seat instead, fixing him with a scrutinising gaze. "And?"
"And—nothing?"
"Nothing?"
"Yeah. Things were okay when I left," he says.
"Oh. Okay. Well... That's—that's good."
Your face falls slightly, but he isn't sure why. Maybe you were just reminded of yesterday again.
He hesitates, thumb tracing the edge of the bowl before he finally says, "Hey… about earlier—"
You cut in before he can finish. "It’s fine, Jack. Honestly." You're not dismissive, but you say it with a tone final enough to stop him from pushing.
You look at him, your voice softens, "You don’t need to keep apologising."
He studies your face longer than he should. You still look tired, a little too composed, but there’s no distance, nothing to suggest he should be concerned. So he nods. "Okay," he says quietly. "If you’re sure."
"I’m sure."
And when you smile at him after that—small but normal again—he lets himself believe it. Perhaps he had blown it out of proportion in his mind.
By the time he heads out the door, he lets himself believe the worst of it is over. That whatever had shifted this morning was already settling back into place.
"Hey brother," Robby claps his shoulder as he steps beside Jack at the hub as morning slowly seeps into the Pitt. "I’ve been meaning to catch you."
Jack glances up from the tablet in his hand. "That doesn’t sound promising."
Robby lets out a short breath, but there's clear tension behind it. "I wanted to tell you yesterday, but, you know—" His head tilts as he shrugs. "Yesterday kind of got away from us."
Jack nods as he sets the tablet down, giving him his full attention.
"Just hear me out before you—" Robby starts, hands lifted in the air.
But Jack’s attention catches on movement to his left—you in scrubs.
His entire body goes rigid. You were not supposed to be here until tonight. This ruins his plans to treat you to another breakfast—preferably eaten together this time.
Jack straightens slowly, his eyes fixed on you as he speaks to Robby. "Who called out?"
Robby follows his gaze and mutters, "Shit."
Jack turns back to him, his voice already edged. "Why is she here?"
Robby rubs the back of his neck. "Heather wanted to switch to nights."
Jack stares at him for one long second. "So you traded her."
"It’s temporary—"
"You switched her to days?" Jack cuts in, louder now. He feels like he's been dropped into an ice bath.
Robby glances around at the nurses and residents nearby who are pretending not to listen. "Keep your voice down."
Jack huffs, arms crossing tightly. "No, I don’t think I will. You moved her without even talking to me?"
"It was the easiest fix—"
"The easiest fix?" Jack steps closer, his voice dropping into something sharper. "Out of everyone on this floor, that was your solution?"
Robby lifts a hand. "Jack—"
"No." Jack’s jaw clenches. "Absolutely not. Put someone else on days."
Robby’s expression tightens. "I needed coverage."
"So take Ellis."
Robby shakes his head. "Ellis can't."
"Then Crus."
"Jack—"
"I said no." The words crack out of him hard enough that Dana's eyes flit over, eyebrows raising in shock. She's seen Jack angry before, but never like this.
Robby lowers his voice, trying to contain the situation. "I’m not doing this to piss you off."
"Then what the hell are you doing?" Jack snaps. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you decided to screw with the one thing in my life I didn’t ask you to touch."
Robby exhales slowly. "Heather needed nights. I needed someone for days. She made the most sense."
Jack’s laugh is bitter now. "She made sense?" He shakes his head. "You had half the damn residency list to choose from, and you picked her."
"Because she agreed," Robby lets slip, his own irritation flaring.
The words hit like a punch. Jack goes dead still. For a second, the anger leaves his face entirely, replaced by something else—something wounded. "...What?"
Robby hesitates, like he knows too late he’s said the wrong thing. "...She already said yes."
Jack stares at him. The rage comes back all at once, but now it’s different—less explosive, more uneven. "She agreed?" His voice drops low. "You asked her before you told me?"
Robby’s silence says enough.
Jack huffs again, a low and furious sound. "Unbelievable."
"Jack, listen—"
"No, you listen." Jack points at him. "You knew exactly what this would do, and you did it anyway."
"I didn’t think—"
"That’s the problem, Robby, isn’t it?" Jack bites out. "You didn’t think."
Jack can’t stop the thoughts slamming into him. You agreed. You said yes. Without telling him. Without warning him. Without even giving him the chance to ask why.
"I'm sorry, man. But it's only a couple of weeks."
Jack’s mouth twists. "A couple of weeks?" he repeats. "You think that makes this better?"
Jack looks away, dragging a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to get control of himself. Because suddenly all he can think is that maybe this was your way out. Maybe you were tired of the arrangement. Maybe you’d realised what this had started to mean to him and decided distance was easier than saying it.
"She’ll still be here," Robby says.
"That’s not the point." Because this means no more quiet drives home. No more slipping into bed beside you in the dark and pretending none of this was temporary. Just hallway conversations. Passing glances. And the worst part—the part clawing at him—is knowing you chose it.
Well, Robby had offered it, but you hadn't said no. His chest burns, each breath scorching on its way out.
"I thought you talked things out yesterday?" Robby asks carefully.
Jack looks back at him. "We did." That's what he thought, but maybe the argument had been the tipping point for you.
Robby studies him for a second too long, then sighs. "Then maybe this isn't what you think it is. Maybe she's just being nice."
Jack isn't sure. Would you really switch to days without telling him if it didn't mean what he thought it did?
"Take someone else," he tries again.
Robby’s expression softens, but he doesn’t budge. "I can't. She's already been scheduled on days."
He breathes out harshly. "Fine," he says flatly. But there is nothing fine about the way his hands are shaking. Nothing fine about the rage burning behind his ribs. Nothing fine about the fact that beneath all of it—all the anger, all the fury—what he really feels is hurt.
He turns and heads for the lockers before Robby can say another word.
You're purposefully slowing down your movements as you place your jacket and bag in your locker, hoping to delay your entry enough that Jack might have already left.
You're a good actress, have been for years, ever since your parents showed their first signs of disappointment in you. You'd learned how to smile through it, pretend it didn't hurt you while the ache worsened inside. It's a skill that proved incredibly useful in navigating interactions with Jack yesterday, trying to convince him that nothing was wrong.
He wasn't supposed to see your puffy face or be able to discern that you were hit harder by seeing him with Lily than you were supposed to—so you mustered all your strength in pretending to be fine. You cooked him dinner. You laughed with him.
But when he told you he was okay with you switching to days, that pretence had faltered for the briefest second. Because you thought or at least hoped that he might have put up a little bit of a fight, tried to convince you not to go, but instead, he had just accepted it.
It only served as reinforcement of your conclusion from yesterday. And during your next phone call with Olivia, she couldn't convince you of anything else.
Jack liked Lily. That was it.
You're not lucky enough to avoid him, though. You hear him before you see him, his familiar stride, quick and purposeful, sounding heavier before he stops in front of you. His eyebrows are drawn together, lips pressed into a tight line.
"When exactly were you planning to tell me?" he asks.
You pause mid-motion, your locker half-open, and turn to face him. "Tell you what?"
"That you switched shifts." The words come clipped, like he’s forcing them out evenly.
You stare at him, brows furrowing. "What?"
Jack's arms cross. "Did you not think I would find out? Or were you just waiting for me to figure it out on my own when I saw you walking in?"
"I don't understand what's going on," you say, watching him with narrowed eyes.
"No?" His jaw tightens. "Let me spell it out for you then. You agreed to switch your entire schedule, and somehow that wasn’t worth mentioning?"
Irritation spikes through you. "You told me yesterday you talked to Robby," you say sharply. "You said it was all good."
"What?"
"You said you talked. That everything was fine," you snap. "How was I supposed to know you meant everything except this?"
Realisation flashes on his face, but your anger is already mounting.
"Jesus, Jack, if you didn’t know, this makes us look suspicious as hell."
His brows knit together. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I mean." Your voice drops but sharpens in edge. "If I’m switching shifts and my husband doesn’t know about it, what does that look like to others?"
Jack stares at you for a moment, then his voice lowers as well. "That’s what you think this is about?"
You cross your arms and give him a one-armed shrug. "Then what’s it really about?"
His voice rises before he can rein it in. "It’s about you making a decision that impacts both of us without even telling me."
The force of his words takes you by surprise. You expected relief, not this intensity.
"It’s just a temporary shift change."
"That’s not the point."
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Then what is the point?"
Jack steps closer, frustration spilling over despite his attempts at control. "The point is that you agreed to this without talking it over with me."
"I didn’t realise I needed your permission. Is this my attending talking to me right now?" Like it had been yesterday when he'd yelled at you about protocol.
He rubs his face with a rough hand and mutters, "I knew things weren't fine between us."
"They are, but you're being a dick again."
He places his hands on his hips, exhaling hard through his nose. "I don't understand why this isn't a big deal to you?"
It is. But it shouldn't be to him.
Because if he wanted Lily, then this should make things easier for him. Because you’re trying to give him room to have what he actually wants. But you can’t say any of that. You don't even understand why he feels this heated over it. He's probably just annoyed he didn't know. That this means that how he conducts the night will change.
You're interrupted as a nurse slips into the hallway, glancing furtively at the two of you. You step aside as she hurries to her locker, pushing her bag in and leaving just as fast. The interruption drains the heat from the moment, leaving only the things neither of you can say with someone else in earshot.
Your anger starts to fade into something quieter as you wait for the door to close again.
"It’s only for a few weeks," you murmur. "Night shift will survive."
Jack shakes his head immediately. "No, we won’t."
You give him a tired look. "You managed before I switched to nights."
"No," he insists, more firmly this time. Almost like he's trying to goad you back into arguing with him.
But your frustration has evaporated, and you just feel drained. "It’s temporary," you repeat, your voice calmer. "Heather wanted nights. I know day shift. It makes sense."
Jack stares at you as if your explanation only makes things worse. "Why wouldn’t you tell me?"
You shrug, trying to sound neutral. "I thought you knew." You hesitate for a second. "And... I didn’t think it mattered that much."
His expression shifts, as if your response hit him harder than you intended. You realise you’ve given him the wrong answer, but you have no idea what he wanted to hear.
"It’s only for a couple of weeks," you repeat, moving to step around him.
As you near the door, his voice halts you. "It matters to me."
Your chest tightens. For half a second, you almost turn back. For half a second, hope surges so suddenly it makes your chest ache. Maybe he doesn't want the distance. Maybe he meant—
No.
You shut the thought down before it can fully form. You can’t let yourself hear more—not when you know none of this means what you wish it did. Because this only matters in terms of the schedule and what he needs to do as your attending. Not because he's hurt that you're switching. Not because it means more like it does for you.
So, you keep your back turned to him. "You’ll be fine. Robby already sorted out the schedule. You don’t need to do anything."
He doesn't follow you when you step out.
Day shift welcomes you back like you'd never left. You fall back into the pace easily, picking up charts, checking orders, moving room to room without having to think too hard about where you need to be next. Still, there's a nagging pit in your stomach that won't fade.
Because every time there's a slight lull, a moment where your mind can wander, it circles back to Jack standing in front of your locker this morning. With a clenched jaw, eyes sharp, demanding to know why you hadn't told him.
Demanding like it mattered. Demanding like the decision hurt him.
You hadn't expected it. Not when he, the previous night, had seemed indifferent. That look on his face when you told him it didn't matter lingered in your mind, and if you dwell on it too long, it makes you second-guess everything.
So you don’t.
You focus on your tablet. On your patients. On the familiar pace of day shift. You do not think about Jack.
"So..." Princess appears beside you so suddenly that you nearly jump.
You glance up from the tablet in your hands. "So?"
She leans one hip against the counter, grinning in that way that means she’s about to pry into something that is absolutely none of her business. "Heard you and Abbot got into a fight yesterday."
Your stomach drops. Of course, she heard. Nothing happens quietly in the Pitt, and yesterday had been many things, but subtle was not one of them. Jack had snapped at you in front of half the department, and you’d snapped right back. It had been brief, but the tension afterwards had been impossible to miss. And given your relationship, people were more than curious to know what was going on. Even if they had seen you being 'fine' at the end of shift.
You force your face into a neutral expression and look back at your tablet. "It was nothing."
Princess makes a sceptical noise. "That's not what I heard. Also, you're here."
You tap through a chart, pretending to read. "We disagreed about protocol. Then we moved on."
"Really?" she asks, drawing the word out. "Because from what I've heard, it looked a lot less like 'professional disagreement' and a lot more like 'married couple about to throw hands.'"
You let out a dry breath through your nose. "Princess."
"What?" she says innocently. "People noticed."
You finally look at her. "There is nothing to notice. And I'm here because Heather wanted to switch to nights. It's only temporary."
She studies you for a second, clearly deciding whether to dig deeper. You know that look. Princess thrives on details, a thing you normally don't mind; you just don't like it when it's directed at you.
She leans in a little closer. "So you’re saying you and Abbot are fine?"
"Yes."
She sighs dramatically. "Wow. You are no fun."
"Sorry to disappoint," you murmur.
She tilts her head, still watching you carefully. "You sure you're okay?"
The question is lighter than the last few, but the impact is greater. Because the honest answer would be not really. The honest answer would be that your chest still feels tight from the look on Jack’s face this morning. The honest answer would be that you don’t know whether he was angry because you apparently blindsided him, or because putting distance between you hurt him.
And that second possibility is a treacherous path to wander down.
So you give her the easiest answer. "I’m fine."
Princess squints at you like she doesn’t believe it for a second. With visible reluctance, she decides to let it go. "If you say so."
She glances around before leaning in again, brightening instantly. "Oh! Did you hear about Smith?"
"What about Smith?"
Princess grins, leaning in to murmur. "Robby put her on probation."
Your eyebrows lift. "For what?"
"Apparently, she tried to kiss him in the supply closet."
You stare at her. "What?"
Princess nods, delighted by your reaction. "That’s what I heard."
You let out a startled laugh. "No way."
"I swear."
"Smith tried to kiss Robby?"
Princess shrugs. "Guess she has terrible judgment."
You shake your head, still half laughing in disbelief. "That cannot be true."
"I mean, I didn’t see it happen," Princess says, "but the rumour is she cornered him, and he reported her."
"That's insane."
Princess laughs. "I know."
"Ladies." Robby steps up to the hub, stethoscope in his hands, sliding in beside you like he hasn’t just walked into the middle of a gossip session. "Working hard or hardly working?"
Princess straightens, smiling brightly. "Working hard. Obviously"
Robby raises an eyebrow, but doesn't chastise you. "Is that so?"
"Absolutely," she replies before backing away.
Robby shakes his head, pulling up the nearest computer to log in. For a second, neither of you says anything. You focus on your tablet. He pretends to focus on the screen. Then—
"So..."
You don’t look up. "No."
Robby glances over. "I haven’t even asked anything yet."
"You’re going to."
He huffs a laugh under his breath. "Probably."
You tap through another chart. "Then no."
He still shifts slightly in his chair, giving you his full attention anyway. "Did something happen between you two?"
You keep your eyes glued to the screen. "Me and Princess?" you reply lightly. "No, we're all good."
Robby gives you a look. "You know that’s not what I mean."
You shrug one shoulder. "Then I don’t have anything to tell you."
He studies you for a moment, then lets out a quiet sigh. "I know you two fought yesterday."
You let out a short breath. "We disagreed."
He rubs his beard, looking apologetic. "I didn't know when I asked you."
You shrug again. "Doesn't matter. I would have said yes, anyway."
Robby’s gaze stays on you; he hums unconvinced. "Mm."
You look back down at the tablet.
Robby is quiet for a second, then says in a gentler tone, "Whatever’s going on, it’s getting to him."
The words make your throat tighten. Because that isn't what you need to hear. Because it makes it harder to believe letting go is the right thing. But Robby doesn't know what you know.
You keep your expression blank. "It's just temporary."
Robby’s voice softens further. "Is it?"
That question almost cracks something open. For one dangerous second, you feel the sting behind your eyes. But before you can answer, Victoria appears at the counter, a tablet in her hand and an eager smile on her face. "Hey, can I present my case to one of you?"
You look up, grateful for the interruption. "Sure," you say, already stepping away.
Robby watches you go, and you can feel it. But you don’t turn around. If you do, he might offer some words of kindness, and right now, that would sting worse than judgment.
You know where you stand. You don’t need to hear it from Robby, too.
You follow Victoria toward the room, forcing your mind back to medicine, to facts, to anything that makes sense, away from Jack. You make it through the presentation on autopilot, nodding in the right places, asking the right questions, checking Victoria's conclusions.
The second it's over, you slip into the nearest supply closet. Try to breathe normally and fail. Your hands shake. You press them against the shelves. Try to still them like you do in a trauma.
It doesn't work.
Your breath catches hard enough to hurt, one hand flying to your mouth to smother the sound when the first sob breaks free. You allow it for a second, and then you wipe your face fast. Brushing away the tears and fixing yourself. Then you re-enter the E.D.
"Hey, you good?" Perlah asks as she passes you, concern glinting in her eyes.
"Yeah," you say, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
It's true, so you're not exactly lying to her.
Perlah hesitates like she might say more, but then she nods and keeps walking. You exhale slowly, forcing your hands to stay uncurled at your sides and straighten your shoulders again. Tucking the hurt somewhere deep enough to ignore as you grab a tablet, heading for your next patient.
It's a quarter to nine when Parker walks over to the hub after getting caught in back-to-back examinations. "Where's Trouble?" she asks, scanning the space with a frown. She hasn't seen you since you tossed her a protein bar after rounds. "Is she in triage?"
Lena looks up, pushing her glasses to the top of her head. "Didn't you hear?"
Parker pauses, squinting at her. "Hear what?"
"She switched to days."
Parker blinks in disbelief. "What? She wouldn't do that."
Lena shrugs, then her gaze finds Collins in the middle of a trauma. She nods in her direction, "Collins wanted nights before she leaves."
Parker stares blankly at Lena, connecting the dots, then her gaze snaps towards Abbot. Suddenly, his pissed-off expression makes sense. She’d thought his mood was fallout from yesterday—from the argument, from Lily getting hurt on his watch—but this was worse. She still remembers how he acted when you were sick—this could only be worse. "Oh shit."
"Abbot?" Shen strolls over, coffee in hand, following her line of sight and grimace.
She nods resignedly.
"Ah, yeah," Shen sighs, taking another sip. "It's gonna be a rough couple of weeks."
"Weeks?" Parker shakes her head. "We're doomed."
The three of them watch Abbot for a second—the clenched jaw, the ramrod posture, the way he taps relentlessly at the tablet like it offended him.
"Yeah," Shen comments dryly, "looks like the honeymoon phase is over."
Parker groans, resting her forehead on her arms. "Great."
"If by great, you mean excruciating," Lena chimes in, then ducks her head down as the man in question walks over.
"If you’re done chit-chatting, there are patients waiting. Or have we forgotten why we’re here?" Abbot asks, voice flat.
"No," Parker murmurs.
"Then what are you waiting for?" He doesn't even stop to see if she moves, just walks away, tablet clutched tightly in his hands.
Parker closes her eyes for a brief moment. "Jesus."
Shen raises his brows. "We might not make it through this."
"Whoever gets Trouble back gets out of the next ortho consult with the shark," Parker proposes, looking over at Shen.
"You're on."
Parker doesn't care who wins as the shift drags on—she just hopes one of them is able to succeed because this is hell. Every interaction with Abbot is terse, every question he asks tinged with annoyance. He catches mistakes before they occur and looks furious for having to correct them. He moves through the Pitt like a tempest—cold, sharp and impossible to ignore.
And the worst part of it is that he's exceptionally good. Hyper-focused to the point that he misses nothing. Charts get corrected, incomplete labs still ordered on time, and the resident who hesitated for a second too long gets reprimanded for endangering a patient. Everything gets caught, and each correction comes with that same biting edge.
By eleven o’clock, the tension in the night team is palpable. Parker watches Abbot from the corner of her eye as she charts. She only turns her head enough to murmur to Lena, careful not to catch his attention again. "Is he really this upset just because she switched shifts?"
Lena glances up briefly, weighing whether to share what she heard from Dana. "No."
Parker frowns. "Then what is it?"
Lena sighs. "He’s upset because she didn’t tell him."
Parker winces. "Oh."
Across the room, Abbot mutters under his breath as he yanks off a pair of gloves with excessive force. Parker studies him for a moment longer, then quietly mutters, "Why in the world did she agree to switch?"
Lena shrugs.
Whatever happened between the two of you is written all over Abbot—in the clipped orders, the rigid posture, the way every word cuts.
Whatever it is, it’s bleeding into everything, and Parker doesn't think she can survive weeks of it.
Robby catches Jack on the rooftop after a trauma-heavy night. He leans on the railing, watching Jack's back, who hasn't looked back even though he'd clearly heard him enter. He tries humour first, "Rumour has it you've been terrorising the night shift."
Jack doesn't answer.
Robby continues when that doesn't work, "I know this is about her switching shifts." He breathes out slowly. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know it would hit this hard."
Jack huffs under his breath, sharp and bitter. He still doesn't answer him
Robby softens slightly. "Talk to me. Yell at me. Whatever might make this better."
"There’s nothing to say," Jack finally says.
"Bullshit."
Jack lets out a long breath. Robby waits.
Finally, Jack says, "She’s pulling away. She figured it out."
Robby frowns. "Figured what out?"
Jack laughs, a hollow sound. "That I’m in love with her."
The words sit there between them longer than either of them moves. It's the first time he's heard Jack say it aloud. State it plainly. Robby blinks, then he lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath.
And because the situation is awful (partly his doing, or so he's been told multiple times by Olivia) and because Jack looks like hell and because Robby genuinely cannot believe what he’s hearing, he says, "You think that’s what this is?"
Jack turns to him sharply. "What else would it be?"
Robby stares at him for a second. Because from where he’s standing, Jack has somehow taken a bad week and built an entire tragedy in his head. "She switched shifts after a fight," Robby says carefully.
Jack shakes his head immediately. "No."
Robby raises an eyebrow. "No?"
Jack laughs bitterly. "She was fine after the fight."
Robby doesn’t buy that, but he lets it go. Bites back a comment and watches as Jack drags a hand through his hair.
"She started pulling away after that. She barely talks to me. She won’t look at me. She changed shifts." His voice roughens. "She knows."
Robby folds his arms. "And your evidence is... what?"
Jack stares at him like the answer is obvious. "All of it."
Robby lets out a breath through his nose. "Jesus Christ."
Jack’s jaw tightens. "Robby." He says it like a warning.
"No, I’m serious." Robby shakes his head. "You think she found out you have feelings for her and decided to rearrange her life to avoid you?"
Jack looks away again. "Yes."
Robby stares at him, huffing a disbelieving laugh. "You are unbelievable."
Jack laughs once, a humourless sound. "Glad you find this entertaining."
"I don’t," Robby says sharply. "I find it insane. I see a sleep-deprived idiot making assumptions instead of having one honest conversation."
Jack doesn't answer him, just crosses his arms.
Robby rubs a hand over his mouth, clearly seeing that Jack isn't hearing what he's saying. "Okay," he says carefully. "Let’s say you’re right. Then ask her."
Jack’s answer is immediate. "No."
Robby blinks. "No?"
Jack shakes his head once. "No."
Robby stares. "If you think that’s what’s happening, why the hell would you not ask her?"
Jack’s voice drops quieter. "Because if I’m right, saying it out loud makes it real."
Robby studies him for a second. "And if you’re wrong?"
Jack laughs bitterly. "I’m not."
Robby tilts his head. "You don’t know that." He leans against the railing when Jack doesn't answer. "For what it’s worth, I think you’re dead wrong."
Jack gives a tired shake of his head. "You don’t know that."
"No," Robby says. "But I know what she looks like when she sees you."
Jack glances over.
Robby shrugs. "And I know what you look like right now."
Jack looks away again.
Robby presses on. "If you won’t talk to her because you’re afraid she’ll confirm this," he gestures between them, "then this spiral is on you."
Jack's shoulders tense. "...I can’t."
Robby exhales. "Then at least stop punishing everyone else." Robby claps a hand on his shoulder. "You don’t have to confess. But for the love of God, just talk to her."
Jack stares out at the city again. "Maybe."
Robby heads for the stairwell after a moment, then glances back once. Jack hasn’t moved. Still staring into the city like the answer might be written there—and refusing to look anywhere else.
Jack knows he's spiralling, but he can't understand how one argument has created this much distance between you. Every thought feeds the next one. Every unanswered question breeds ten worse possibilities. He tells himself he’s being irrational, that there’s an explanation, that if he could just hold on for another day, everything would make sense again—but the hours keep passing, and nothing makes sense.
He thought you were fine. That you just needed a little bit of space—he didn't realise you needed so much that you would switch to day shift. And it's not like he can even ask you because he only sees you at shift change. Only gets a brief moment of respite during his day, where he gets to spend time with you. But it's never alone.
You don't linger at the lockers. You don't have time for a quick break with him, always stating that patients are waiting. So all he has are the few moments, where he gets to feel your arms around his midriff when you greet him, and the few minutes he's breathing the same air as you as you do rounds.
And then he's alone again. He drives home alone. He eats alone. He sleeps alone.
Well, he tries to. The nightmares have come roaring back—violent and vivid and relentless. Every time he closes his eyes, something drags him under. He wakes sweating, heart pounding, gasping into the dark, reaching instinctively toward the other side of the bed only to find cold sheets. He’s lucky if he gets three hours. Most days it’s less.
And with the sleep deprivation comes the rest of it—the buzzing under his skin, the restlessness, the inability to sit still. The police scanner seems to be calling his name louder and louder with each passing day. Like it’s reminding him that there are easier things to deal with than this. Gunshots. Car wrecks. Overdoses. Those things make sense. Those things are simple: someone is hurt, and he knows what to do.
Because this creeping, gnawing fear that he is losing you and doesn’t know why—he has no idea what to do with that.
So his mind fills in the blanks. At first, it’s small. Maybe you’d just been kind when you agreed. Maybe you'd just been tired every time he'd caught your eye, and your smile didn't seem genuine. Maybe you just needed a little more space before things go back to normal. Maybe he's just overreacting, and you're fine.
But then the thoughts get darker. Maybe you’d realised he was too much. Maybe you’d seen how badly he’d fallen, and it scared you. Maybe all this distance was your way of telling him to let go.
Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe all of this distance—all the clipped words, the changed shifts, the careful professionalism—is because you finally realised what he’s been trying so desperately to hide. What he'd only just recently stopped doing because he thought you might like him back.
Because he does like you. God, he likes you so much it makes him feel sick. He likes the way you nudge his shoulder when you pass him in the hallway. He likes the way you steal fries off his plate. He likes the way your voice softens when you’re tired. He likes the way your face lights up when you laugh. He likes the way you know how to steady him when the world gets too loud. He likes the way being near you makes the noise in his head quiet down.
And maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe you saw it in the way he watches you. Maybe you felt it in the way he holds onto hugs half a second too long. Maybe you noticed the way he finds excuses to be near you.
And maybe you didn’t like it.
Maybe you’ve been pulling away because the truth makes you uncomfortable. Because whatever arrangement the two of you created, it wasn’t supposed to become this. It wasn’t supposed to become feelings. And maybe now that you know, you’re trying to put the walls back up. Easing him out of your life without having to actually say it.
And the thought destroys him. Because if that’s true, then every day that passes is another day you’re proving to yourself that you don’t need him. Another day of learning how easy it is to breathe without him there.
A whole week passes in a blur, and that almost makes it worse—how fast time moves when he wants it to stop. Every shift ends before he can gather the nerve to ask what’s wrong. Every night comes before he’s slept enough to think clearly.
And all the while the clock is ticking. He can't help but be scared, even if he knows you're coming back to the night shift soon. But he also knows that means you'll be an attending, and with that, the arrangement you'd created also soon comes to an end. The strange little life the two of you built—the blurred lines, the late-night conversations, the stolen moments, the comfort of pretending this was more than it was—ends.
You becoming an attending means he'll stop being your husband and go back to just being a coworker. He stops being whatever he has been to you. Stops being the person you come home to. Stops being the one you curl up beside after a brutal shift. Stops being the person who hands you coffee when your eyes are half-closed after waking. Stops being the one who feels you tuck cold feet against his legs in bed.
You becoming an attending means you'll move out again.
Maybe the move to day shift wasn’t just about work. Maybe it was the beginning of goodbye.
Still, he dissects every word, every glance, every pause. Trying to find proof. Trying to find hope. He keeps smiling when he sees you. Keeps pretending he’s fine. Keeps taking those few scraps of closeness like they’re enough. Because if he asks and the answer is yes—if you tell him outright that you’ve been distancing yourself because of his feelings—then the fragile hope keeping him upright shatters.
As long as no one says it aloud, he can pretend. Pretend the shift change is temporary. Pretend the distance isn’t deliberate. Pretend you aren’t already halfway gone.
Pretend that this doesn't have to end.

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I can’t stress enough how obsessed I am his BEEFY ARMS and the FARMERS TAN and those NECK WRINKLES and the FRECKLES omg what if I just took a chomp out of those BICEPS what then
Hellooooo night shift 🤤
keep all blessings secret until further notice.
Tale as old as time.

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Funny I haven't been part of the Joe community for quite some time and his face is still all over my tl.
Annnnd some people I still identify with are not his fans anymore. Life is crazy, huh?
Proud of myself for not saying too much for people that don't deserve any info about my life.
Stellan Skarsgård and his litter of children
Only The Road Ahead
Chapter 10
Character: AU Eddie Barrish, played by Bill Skarsgård in the movie Locked (2025). His daughter, Sarah, also has a part in the story.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.
The steel tray looked unwashed; even under the unidentified brown stew, Eddie could see that. It had specks of red, like tomato sauce on the edges, and something almost black and dry just next to the stew. He wouldn't eat; he wasn't a picky eater, but eating dried-up leftovers that could be anything was just too low. He had lost 20 pounds the last time he was in jail; when he got out, his friends joked that he looked like a hanger with a cock. A blue one on top of that. He had that sort of face that annoyed other prisoners, he had learned, especially his eyes. So his green eyes had often been decorated with a blue frame. He had been cocky the first month, been in fights, and given people nicknames only he thought were funny. But after having woken up with his roommate's big hands around his throat, taking more and more of the air in his lungs, he had stopped. He could see the face of five-year-old Sarah when his oxygen ran out, and after that he kept his eyes down to the ground.
He had his eyes low now too, down in the tray, but had succeeded in getting a broken lip anyway. Why did he have such big eyes? They always succeeded in making some paranoid fucker nervous.
“Barrish!” A lanky middle-aged guard shouted at him by the entrance to the canteen. Other prisoners looked up and turned their eyes towards Eddie. He had gotten a few weird looks because two guards laughed behind his back. He suspected it was because they knew what he worked with, but he didn't know, and neither did the other prisoners.
“You can make your phone call now.”
With a low head and his hands clasped in front of him, he walked towards the guard, but his eyes never left the floor; even in front of the guard, something could happen. Some didn't care at all. The guard led him to the phone room, just a small room without windows where four phones sat up on the walls. The door to the room was made out of Plexiglas so the guards could see them. Three of the phones were occupied, but the one in the right corner was waiting on him. The guard made a gesture so Eddie would go in and lift the phone.
Damien had put money on his books so he could call out, but during his three days, only four of the five people he had called answered. Damien, Amy, Jonah, and the lawyer Jonah had connected him to. The fifth person hadn't answered, and maybe he wouldn't either if he got a phone call from jail and he didn't know who was calling. He could understand why Luna didn't answer. But even if she didn't, he called her again that day. If it wasn't Sarah he had thought about during the long hours in his cell's bunk, it was Luna. If he came out alive from this, he would do everything in his power to become a family with them. Move to a house outside of town and get two or even three dogs. Some cats too. Maybe Luna would want to have kids one day. A soft baby that smelled sweet, unlike anything else. He still remembered how Sarah had smelled as a baby. Such a warm, wonderful scent he wished to smell again. He wished Luna wanted many babies. Three?
“Luna's phone, it's River?”
Eddie was dumbfounded. He couldn’t even believe Luna would answer, really, but now a man with a deep voice talked straight into his ear from Luna's phone.
“Ehh, hey. Ehh… Is Luna there?” He asked, confused while playing with the knot in his washed-out sweatpants.
“Who's asking?” Said the man harshly. Eddie didn't really know how to answer. Who was he to Luna? He had destroyed every little bond between them when he shouted at her, so once again he needed to lie, even if he wished he could be honest.
“Just a friend.”
“But what's your name? And why the fuck are you calling from jail?”
“My, my name is Eddie. Or my name is Edward. Eddie is just a nickname, everyone says. Ehh, Luna, Luna calls me that too.” Eddie could feel his nerves going up and his tongue swelling in his mouth. Something about the guy made him feel small and silly. “I, I just… It's a bullshit thing I'm here for, um… But, but, can I talk to Luna? I just want to hear her voice.”
“A bullshit thing?” The guy groaned loudly. “You really think I would let some criminal call my sister just to ‘hear her voice’?” You pathetic piece of fuck. Never call her again. If you do, I will fucking kill you, okay? I hope you get raped in there, you fucking perve.” The guy hung up in his ear, and maybe that was the best because Eddie couldn't find any words anyway. His body felt heavy, and his tongue still felt dry and swollen. It was her older brother, or one of them. He obviously thought Eddie was just some pervy guy stalking his sister. Someone who was jerking off over her and now couldn't let her go, so he was even calling her desperately from prison… Eddie hung up the phone when he realized he actually was that guy. When he thought about such guys, he always saw them as misogynistic, ugly losers, but clearly they could also be someone like himself. He was pathetic. He leaned his forehead against the wall next to the phone and got the attention of the guy on the phone next to him when he made a loud sound of regret and shame.
“Barrish!” Shouted the guard, who had opened the door and looked at him strictly. Eddie stood up again and looked at the guard. “Do you want to use the 15 minutes you have left?”
He had only used five minutes to talk to Luna's brother; it had felt so much longer.
“Yeah… Ehm, call Jonah…”
Eddie took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He hoped Jonah would answer even if they hadn't said anything about him calling this time. They talked the day before, and Eddie felt at once it was easier talking to him than to his lawyer, so now that he had questions that arose from worry, it was easier calling him.
“Hey, Eddie,” he answered with a friendly tone. Eddie breathed out in relief. Maybe it was because Amy had chosen Jonah and Eddie knew he could trust her that he felt so calm with Jonah. He just felt like a good guy, for real.
“Hey… Eh, I dunno why I'm calling, really I just… When will I get out of here?” Eddie could hear his own voice crack because of something pushing behind his eyes. Jonah was quiet on the phone, and Eddie knew it was hard for him to answer that. Even if he knew, he couldn't tell him because of his job.
“The only thing I can say, Eddie, is that they’re still investigating it.”
“But, but what do they have on me? And shouldn't they talk to me? Shouldn't I get to say something?”
“Of course, they will talk to you. I guess they just want some answers first so they can ask you the right questions too.”
“But when is that? I've been here for three days now. A guy pissed at me this morning!”
“He pissed on you?” Jonah said, audibly grossed out. It was obvious he came from a more posh background, so getting pissed on wasn’t something that had happened to him. It had happened to Eddie before, though.
“It's because of my cock, but enough about that.”
“Okay?”
“But… Do you think they can get me for this? Like I promise, I promise, fuck, I have nothing to do with it!”
“I know, Eddie. You don't need to defend yourself to me. I know you haven't done anything.”
Eddie wasn't aware that he had held his breath while Jonah spoke until he breathed out in a loud exhalation.
When he had 2 minutes left of his phone time, he hung up and looked towards the plexiglass door. It was time for him to go back to his cell again; the hard bunk and the smell of urine from the older man he shared the cell with. Could this be his life for years and years? Sleep in the same room as the toilet and prepare for either paranoid comments about his eyes or about how pretty he was. He could never tell if they were making fun of him or if they made a pass at him; either way, it made him uncomfortable. It wasn't the place for him to be cocky or teasingly ironic. It was the place for him to shut up and think about all the mistakes he had made.
×××
River hung up with some struggle because of his heated emotions, then he threw it lazily onto the counter between him and his sister, who was four-years-younger. He had the same bright blue eyes as her that were now full of rage.
“Now do you see the fucking shit you've put yourself in? Huh? What the fuck, Luna! There are criminals calling you so they can jerk off!”
Luna was wrapping glasses in sheets of newspaper and put them down in a box in front of her. Her eyes were focused on the task instead of looking at her brother. She had no idea it was Eddie who was calling. She just knew it was the third call she had gotten from the jail and that River chose to accept the call this time. She suspected it might be a “fan” and now had River confirm her beliefs, even if it wasn't true.
“I’ve deleted everything now, I promise…” she said with a low voice, ashamed because of her older brother’s tone. She threw her long dark hair over her shoulder, one more attribute she and River shared, but his hair was pulled up in a low bun at his neck.
“I hope I can trust you this time. I can see that you've earned money on this shit,” he waved his arms around at her big house and modern interior, “but it isn't worth it. There are too many bad men out there!”
Luna nodded but didn't look up. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She wanted to leave everything to do with porn, OnlyFans, and fuckboys behind. It had been fun, even empowering, when she started, but after the threats, hate, abuse, and now also heartbreak, there wasn't anything good left in it. Hopefully the prisoner would also stop calling now that River had answered. He sounded threatening, and he was in real life too, 6'2" tall and athletically built. Even if the prisoner would go further, River was formidable in presence too.
Luna packed the last glass and closed the box before taking another box that she put mugs and bowls in. She could feel how River wanted to continue to lecture her, but she didn't give him anything as bait, so he just stood there wrapping a rubber band around her cutlery tighter and tighter. It was a relief when they heard Forrest, their oldest brother, and his wife, Mina, come down from the top floor carrying a nightstand each. Forrest didn't know how Luna had been able to afford her lifestyle; he just thought it was through TikTok and didn't think much more about it. That's why they knew they would change the subject, because neither one of them wanted to know how Forrest would react. Mina giggled over something and then came into the kitchen with her husband. Both of them smiled a little teasingly and then put down her stack of post-its on the counter.
“Who is ‘E’?”
Luna looked down at the orange post-it. ‘E heart L’ was written three times, along with a phone number and also a little alien-looking thing. She looked at it without a word, before taking it away from the rest of the post-it stack. Folding it two times and throwing it in the garbage bag that hung on a cabinet handle. It was quiet in the kitchen from Luna's reaction, and Mina looked at her husband, ashamed.
It wasn't Luna who had written the post-it. She didn't know what the number was written for but she knew who had doodled the rest. Eddie. He had doodled things like that on other papers too. Hearts, her name, his own name, and that little alien. She had saved a post-it with the time for their STD tests just because he had doodled his little alien in the corner, giving it heart eyes and screaming her name. She had looked at that little drawing several times a day after he had left, and she had seen it as a sign he had real feelings for her too. She didn't know then he would scream in her face that he wasn't her boyfriend the next time they saw each other. She thought about that note, which was lying in an inside pocket of her handbag. She needed to toss that one too. She didn't want anything left from any man. She wanted a clean start, and without knowing it, she had just thrown away a post-it that was connected to two men who had hurt her: Eddie, but also Raphael, whose number was written on it. Eddie had broken her heart, but Raphael had broken her as a woman so many times she couldn't even count them.
“Are you okay?” Asked Forrest, laying a thick arm around her shoulders. Luna smiled tiredly.
“Yeah, I'm just tired. And I'm homesick; it will be nice to move home again.”
Forrest nodded with a fatherly smile and dragged a finger over her nose.
“We're so happy you will be home again. TikTok and shit… It's just so vain.”
Luna nodded with a lazy smile, thinking back to her much more humble lifestyle in her hometown.
“And there are better guys there too. You know, Zander is single now,” said Mina, trying to cheer her up, and Luna smiled a bit strained. Men were the last thing she wanted to think about.
“How nice for him… But I think I want to be alone for a while. For many years, maybe.”
“That sounds good,” River quickly said, which made Forrest look at him with furrowed brows. River just gave Luna a look, and she knew he was thinking about the phone call. Of course, he felt like that when he knew how many men had been looking at her naked body and what kind of men had been close to her.
They packed the rest of her house in a couple of days, and in those days Luna cut ties with everyone who had connections to OnlyFans.
Lydia understood it would be their last phone call when Luna called to tell her she was moving and felt she needed to tell her everything she knew now, but she also really wanted to hear Luna's reaction to the gossip.
“I know everything about Eddie makes you angry—”
“Fuck, please, must we start this again? It was him who didn't want me, not the other way around.”
“I know, I know.”
Several of Luna's OnlyFans friends had told her to just accept that he wanted to do something different and that they could make it work anyway, making it seem like she was the problem, but it wasn't. He was the problem because he didn't want her.
“But… Raphael is arrested—”
“Eddie still doesn't want me. It's not about Raphael.”
“Can you just listen??” She said, irritated, and it made Luna shut up from embarrassment.
“They have arrested Eddie too.”
Luna, who lay on the bed in her old room at her parents' house, sat up in horror.
“What?!”
“Yeah, they say he's a part of it?”
“Oh my god?! What? No! Eddie would never!” Luna felt her heart beat in stress. Even if Eddie had lied, screamed at her, and broken her heart, she knew he would never be involved in such a thing. Wherever he was, she could imagine the anxiety he had. Eddie was a good guy who had been an amazing friend the three months they worked together. They had fun when they hung out and he was really caring in all the phone calls they have had. He was a fucked-up fuckboy, but he had really good values and views on women. Her Eddie-Bear was arrested for something he hadn't done, a horrible crime. She wondered if he would even survive if he got convicted for it.
“I know! Everyone kinda knows that!”
“What do they even have on him? He met Raphael just months ago!”
“Witnesses… Like, it's been spread around who the first witness was, and, like, people think Raphael's people might have formed the other witnesses after that one.”
Luna felt her own anxiety go up while she talked with Lydia. Raphael was her own perpetrator. She wasn't surprised he had been implicated with worse crimes than the ones he had put her through. But to talk about him and also the man she loved was a lot for her. Her heart was still broken because of Eddie, but it also had a glow from the memories with him. That funny, annoying man. That lovable, stupid, intelligent boy. He still owned every piece of her heart.
“But who's the first witness?”
Lydia laughed but swallowed it when she realized how serious it was for Luna. She didn't know about Raphael and Luna's real history, but she had seen Luna with Eddie at the OnlyFans party a few months ago. It was obvious she adored the man.
“Well, that's the most fucked-up thing… The first witness is his daughter’s teacher.”
×××
Eddie was that kind of guy you felt strong feelings for at once. You might hate him for his lazy ways, the feeling of him not caring at all but also his strong charisma. Eddie took over every room he went into and then used the attention to either joke around or try to persuade you to share his opinions. He was most often the tallest person in his surroundings and had a face both the little devils and angels would love. He demanded attention.
Hani hadn't been able to stop herself from looking at Eddie the first time she saw him. He looked like the guy her fourteen year old self would have dreamed about, the sweet bad boy that she would never get but there he suddenly was, looking at her flirtatiously. The school was a middle class school; his daughter was probably enrolled there because of where her mom lived, because Eddie looked far from middle class. His daughter told her about his job as a mechanic, a humble profession, and his build also told her he worked with his body and maybe worked out a bit too. He was fine; every mom could see it, even if they also laughed a bit behind his back because of his nonchalant behavior and disheveled looks. But he had flirted with her. She really needed to try it out, being with a man totally different from her exes. A man who attracted her more with his looks than intellect. She thought she would sleep with him once and then move on, but instead Eddie was both intelligent and sweet, with more to him than bleached hair and abs. Respectfully, he hadn't tried to seduce her but instead focused on getting to know her. It all felt so good, so real until the bomb:
“I'm in love with someone else.”
Everything she had thought was a sign that he was a good guy was wrong. Every sweet gesture was a dismissal, not an action from a gentleman. He was just a boy, in love with someone else. A boy wanting a female friend to get female advice from. He had fooled her. She had left all her usual demands for a man behind; she had started to believe a guy like him could be a good, trustworthy man. She had been wrong. Why had she opened up for something more than just sex, like the plan had been? He was probably not even in love with the other girl. It had just been an excuse. Hani had looked at the girls' pictures over and over on Instagram. The pictures with Eddie were gone, but her videos with her pretty face and revealing clothes were still there, many, many of them. She and her were so different from each other, and maybe Eddie's type was more like that girl. An OnlyFans girl with pulled up thongs and big boobs. Hani could see that the girl was super pretty, but she was surprised a man wanted to have a girl like that as a girlfriend. She had talked with guys and read online about what kind of girl a guy wanted as a girlfriend, and Luna was the typical sexy girl every man wanted to fuck but not have as a girlfriend. Even if Eddie was an OnlyFans model himself, Hani couldn't believe he really was in love with that girl. It was just an excuse.
Hani could feel the irritation over it growing over the recent weeks. She felt used but also started to feel grossed out. She had almost slept with a porn actor. Maybe he was riddled with diseases. She had almost fallen for a liar, a fuckboy, and a sex worker. Who knows who he actually was? Or what he did when they weren't together.
Blowfish production. Brother Fuck. It was the company he would work for.
Raphael Rodolfo… Blowfish production… Brother Fuck… Adult movies… Girls between fifteen and twenty-one… Eastern Europe… Trafficking…
It wasn't just one article, but several about the man Eddie had told her he worked with. What kind of person was Eddie? He worked for traffickers? Was she surprised? Hani didn't know but thought about his job, the girl he wanted but mostly his jail time. He hadn't really answered why he was in jail.
Hani's heart beat hard in her chest. Had she almost slept with a pimp? In reality, Hani knew the answer to that, but a few days later she still called the police and told her version of Eddie's involvement with Raphael. She didn't really think they would listen that much to her, maybe just scare him a bit, but instead he got locked behind bars.
×××
Eddie had been in jail for five days. He had eaten minimally, slept just a couple of hours each night, and puked instead of releasing the normal way. The last time he was in jail, it took approximately two weeks for him to accept and begin to get used to his destiny, but then he had known his life there would end after six months—now he didn't know a thing. He had asked Jonah how long of a sentence he could get if they decided he was guilty, and he answered probably around 20 years. He would be more than fifty in 20 years. It would probably be his best years they would take away.
He cried in the bathroom sometimes, even if it was the most unhygienic place he had been to. The few times he had done it in his bunk, his roommate had become angry and called him a faggot. It wasn't really the best place to be alone but the toilet was the best option, even if it stank of piss, shit, and sweat. That day he sat in the bathroom looking up at the ceiling even if someone pounded on the door. He tried to understand who had done this to him. It couldn't just have been Raphael because he was arrested, and they would take everything he said with a grain of salt knowing he just wanted out. He thought through who knew about his affairs with Raphael and which ones could have a reason to want to destroy him. The only people who could win by destroying things for him and also knew about Raphael were Damien and Luna.
Damien and Luna.
Luna.
Eddie sighed loudly and shut his eyes. Luna. Fuck, it was her. She wanted revenge for the awful ending of their relationship. Eddie felt mostly disappointment and sadness at first, but when someone started to scream that he would kill him if he didn't come out from the bathroom, it turned to anger. He hit his fist on the hard concrete wall and felt his knuckles start to burn. He had scratched them up completely, but he didn't care. He needed to run and go out and scream; otherwise, he would get into a fight with someone just to get his emotions out. Luna. His Luna tried to ruin his life. His future wife.
×××
Luna's legs bounced while she sat in the police station. She was back again. She had left her hometown to go back to the much bigger town and the police station to see if she could help Eddie in some way. He may have been an asshole, but he wasn't worth that. He had been the most respectful lover she had had, the best filming partner, always so attentive. Someone wanted him to take the blame. She wondered if he had read his contract thoroughly. Raphael had put in paragraphs hard to interpret on her own when they had filmed together. Her body had become his, and now she wondered if he had made Eddie's name free for him to use.
A female police officer with her long blonde hair in a ponytail smiled at her from behind the counter, and with shaky legs and a dry mouth, Luna went up to her.
“Hey… Ehm…” She looked around nervously and leaned closer to the officer, who did the same when she did it. “I think I have some information about the case against Blowfish Production…”
The officer couldn't hide her reaction, and her eyes got big. Luna could feel how she looked at her up and down. Even if she had dressed much more modestly in a black t-shirt and baggy black cargo pants, the woman probably guessed correctly what she was. Even if her chest were real, even if her nails and eyelashes were free from extensions. The police saw her looks obviously fitting the male gaze and her filled lips and small tattoos scattered over sun-kissed skin. Luna knew how people looked at her, judging her, and she knew they judged Eddie in a similar way. Angry, cocky, but emotional Eddie with bad tattoos, bleached hair, and a laid-back style. It probably hadn't been easy for him to get the police on his side.
The policewoman led her to a small room; it didn't look like an interrogation room because it had armchairs and a coffee machine. She walked around a bit awkwardly in the room, swinging her handbag in her hand.
“You can sit down; my colleague will be here soon.”
Luna nodded but was too nervous to actually sit down and continued to walk around until the policeman joined her in the little room. He was between 45 and 50 and wearing a dress shirt and jeans. He wasn't as proper as she had suspected, and unfortunately, he got wet in his eyes when he saw her. She had been through the same thing since she was thirteen, when her chest suddenly became more interesting than her face for men.
“Luna, was it?”
The female police officer had asked her for ID and must have told her colleague.
“Yeah,” she said shortly and smiled a little, knowing it was what was expected of her. Otherwise, they wouldn't listen to her. The cop gave his hand to her, and she shook it weakly.
“Detective Linus Peck.”
He tried to hide how his eyes drifted down to her chest but unconsciously licked his lips. Luna sat down when he told her but felt awkward. She was used to men's reactions, but this was a cop. He should know better. Maybe he watched her videos? She looked down at her hands uncomfortably. Maybe you’d think, “It's her own fault. She didn't need to make a career of showing her naked body.” Luna herself felt she held the power of her body. She chose to show it; she got something back from it. Her teenage self had been exposed and used by men without her getting something back. Men much older than her had contacted her during all her teenage years. The boys her own age had spread pictures and lies. OnlyFans was her zone. She would never be able to flee from men's eyes, but there her body was hers, and she got serious money from it. But wet eyes from a cop weren't good. He would never take her seriously.
“Luna… What do you want to take off your chest?” The cop smirked into his hand but pretended to scratch the stubble under his mouth. Luna gave him an unamused look but let it be.
“Eddie Barrish… I know that he's innocent.”
The detective looked at her tiredly, then sighed.
“Are you a girlfriend?”
He said “a” like Eddie had several, but she understood he just tried to provoke her, the silly girlfriend, but she wasn't a girlfriend. Not even an ex.
“We've worked together.”
The detective smirked again and looked away so he wouldn't, again, look at her chest.
“Really?” He faked being surprised and made Luna roll her eyes. She crossed her arms but realized what she always realized: she couldn't cover them.
“What's your nickname on OnlyFans?”
When Luna took her handbag, ready to stand up, he must have realized he actually had real questions to ask her.
“How do you know he's innocent?”
Luna sat down again but kept her handbag over her shoulder, ready to go again.
“Eddie isn't the type. He cares about people, believing we should help the weak in society and treat women well…” The last thing she said pointedly to the policeman, but he didn't even react.
“We can't release someone because his girlfriend says he's a good boy.”
“I'm not his girlfriend. And he's not even a good boy. He's just too good to have done this. That teacher… Who is she?”
Now the policeman's face changed. He didn't know the information about their first witness was out and swallowed dryly.
“Guys like Raphael and his friends always know too much. I thought the cops knew that?”
He looked away, stressed, and wiped the corners of his mouth.
“Tell me who she is.”
“Of course I can't tell you that!”
Luna looked at him sharply. She knew he, in theory, was right, but it was just as hard to take a no anyway.
“Then I fucking want you to think about if she can have any ulterior motives and if maybe your other victims say it's Eddie, because they've heard about your first victim. Don't be more fucking stupid than an OnlyFans girl with big boobs!”
It looked like Linus Peck dropped his chin in a surprised but offended grimace. Luna didn't care; she just stood up and fixed her big, silver hoop earrings and her hair. She even pulled up the rhinestone band of her thong up to her hip bones. She didn't win on trying to be more proper than she was, so who cared? She loved her rhinestone thongs.
“Bye,” she said and walked with determined steps to the door.
“Ehm, ehm,” he finally got out, and she looked back at him with a raised brow.
“Let us know if you know something.”
“Of course. Not even I am as stupid as an OnlyFans girl.”
×××
“Eddie Barrish!” The guard shouted much louder than he needed to because Eddie was right next to him out in the yard. He had succeeded in buying some cigarettes, and was glad for the nicotine but also for something that would kill his hunger. Damien was slow with putting money on his account because he didn't have any of his own, and he couldn't get access to Eddie's. He could have asked someone else, but he was too proud to ask Amy or Jonah.
“Yeah?” He said and turned to the guard. He stood alongside a man in his fifties he had learned was okay. He was a mechanic too, and they could talk about other things than just about how much jail sucked. He didn't seem to have any enemies either. Eddie had a few younger guys looking strangely at him and once had thrown a tray of mold-smelling chili on him. He didn't have energy for it and just gave them a tired look and walked to the bathroom.
“You have a visitor. A hot girl, apparently.”
“Lucky bastard,” said the mechanic guy next to him. Eddie gave him a fast look; he hadn't even had time to think about who it was, and to be honest, he had too many options. With his pinky he scratched his brow, confused, but followed the guard when he saw his face change to an irritated one. He decided that it must be Amy; it was probably the only woman who would want to speak with him, but even if it would be a bit disappointing, he was happy for the visit. And maybe—maybe she had good news both about Sarah but also for his case.
Eddie and the guard met another guard by the door to the visiting room. The new guard looked at him up and down like he was something the jail's own little cat had dragged in. Eddie had no idea how he looked; he could just feel how his mustache had become thicker and how a beard had started to grow out on his jaw and neck. He could imagine he looked quite ragged.
“Are you sure this is the guy?” Joked the new guard with the other, like Eddie couldn't understand them. He knew they checked his picture every time they needed to talk to him, so the question was just a joke, but he couldn't really understand it.
“Why?” Said the guests he had come with, and Eddie looked between them like a kid trying to understand an adult conversation.
“I expected someone better looking for the girl out there. This one looks like his uncle is his dad.”
“Hey! What the fuck, man?!” Eddie couldn't stop himself, but the guard at once made a move towards his pepper spray and the other towards his handcuffs.
“Sorry…” he said lowly and turned down his gaze back to the floor. The guards looked at him up and down but then hit him in the back hard and opened the door.
“The second one from the left. 20 minutes. And no funny business.”
He pushed his back again, so he took some fast steps into the visiting room. They hadn't needed to say where he would sit because he saw her at once, with her long dark hair gathered in two braids, dressed in a white embroidered dress. She had big golden hoops in her ears and raspberry-red lips. She was the most beautiful creature ever. He had thought that about others but never like that. He swallowed over and over until the guard pushed him forward again. Luna looked at him with sapphire eyes, and he felt his emotions go wild.
Fuck, he couldn't cry in front of all the people in the visiting room. The prisoners, visitors, and the guards. But still it was what he did.
×
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Only The Road Ahead
Chapter 8
Character: AU Eddie Barrish, played by Bill Skarsgård in the movie Locked (2025). His daughter, Sarah, also has a part in the story.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.
He had really tried, but Sarah wasn't impressed by his cooking, and neither was he. Why couldn't he succeed with Hani’s simple recipes? The sauces either split or were thin as water; every meat dish he did left a puddle of blood on the plate, and rice continued to be hard after boiling. He would have stopped trying if he was as broke as before because the last times Sarah had been there, he had been forced to order takeout even if he had made dinner.
Hani offered to continue with her lessons, and they had met several times to cook and eat together. It was relaxed and cozy, and to Eddie's relief, she hadn't asked more about his job; instead, they talked about her job, their interests, and hopes for the future. Eddie started to think that maybe, maybe his job wouldn't come up, but the fourth time they saw each other, Hani couldn't keep her mouth shut anymore…
“Ehm…” Eddie looked up at Hani from the onion he was chopping with big, shiny eyes, affected by the onion’s vapors. Hani had just shredded some chicken breast by the counter while Eddie sat by her small kitchen table; she turned to him with her white wine glass in her hand. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, so Eddie didn't say anything; he just gave her time to collect herself. In the meantime, he wiped his eyes with the collar of his white tank top.
“I'm sorry, but I got curious and… God… Yeah, I got curious and looked at your OnlyFans.”
Eddie stopped in his movements, with the tank top pushed against his eyes.
“I shouldn't have, but, yeah, it's too late now.”
He stood a while with the tank top over his face, hiding from reality. He didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Hani. He felt gross and even pervy.
“I get why you can earn money on it,” she cleared her throat awkwardly. “And I can see you're talented, but I wonder about the girl… You had a video with a girl. You said you just filmed yourself.”
Eddie pulled on his tank top and took a deep breath. He was ashamed, but he didn't want to show it because he wanted to make this conversation as short as possible, and if he showed such emotions, Hani would just ask more.
“I said I've tried, and that's that video.”
“But it's just like a month old?”
It was the video of him and Luna on her balcony; the both of them had it uploaded, even if at first it was just for the two of them.
“Yeah, I tried it a month ago.”
Hani furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. It was obvious she didn't buy his lies.
“Everyone in the comments seems to think you're a couple. I found the girl’s Instagram, with pictures of you. She calls you her boyfriend and more or less promotes other videos with you.”
“I'm not her boyfriend if that's what you're asking.”
“No, I'm asking why you're lying.”
Eddie smacked his lips and started to collect things from the table to throw away while he thought about her question. Because that's the easy way out. It was the true answer, that he just wanted life to be simple and fun and how he wanted to be liked, and being a full-blown porn actor didn't feel like the way to get there.
“Eddie?” Hani asked again, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. He could imagine what it must be like to be her student, the shame she could make you feel. I'm sorry, Miss Hani.
“I just… I don't know. I guess I'm ashamed I do that shit.”
“I thought the pay was good and so on?”
“Yeah, it is. It is, especially when I've done shit with that girl you saw… But it's not the best job to have as a father.”
“But you told me about it like you weren't ashamed, and the only thing you lied about was filming with girls.”
Eddie sighed and leaned against the counter next to her.
“I thought you would see me as more of a porn actor than just an OF bop.”
Hani looked at him confused.
“A what?”
“Oh, an OnlyFans bop, an OnlyFans slut, more or less.”
“Is that better than being a porn actor?”
“I guess people don't take it as seriously. You know, they believe it's just wanking off a bit instead of close-ups of cock in the pussy.”
Hani's eyes got big; it was too vulgar for her, and Eddie dragged a hand over his face in shame. He had lost touch with what was normal talk.
“I get it, I get it…” said Hani, maybe just to make him stop talking. “But to clarify, that girl, you're not together with her?”
Eddie scratched his neck and sighed.
“It was just for the cameras. Everyone thought we were cute together, so we just gave in and made more vanilla content.”
“...was that vanilla?”
Eddie looked at her confused now while chewing the cuticle on his thumb.
“Yeah?”
Hani nodded and looked down at her hands.
“I guess our frame of references are a bit different from each other.” She giggled a bit uncomfortably, and Eddie gave her a crooked smile.
“I guess it depends on what you compare it with.”
She nodded, then she turned to the stove, doing everything to get ready to cook again.
“I guess I understand why you lie. That it sounds more serious when you act with someone else, but… I guess it could be much more explicit, the video with that girl, but you will not do it again?”
Eddie looked at her backside and took a deep breath. He couldn't continue to lie. He needed to change that. He needed to act like a grown-up, even if his life was far from a grown-up’s.
“No, I got an offer and will act in more serious productions.”
Hani looked up from the frying pan the chicken was in.
“‘Serious productions’?”
“Yeah, the producer also does things for Pornhub, so if it goes well…”
“‘Pornhub’?”
Eddie looked at her, fascinated. Who didn't know what Pornhub was?
“It's the world's biggest porn site.”
“Oh…”
Hani looked down at the food again, and Eddie could almost see how the thoughts jumped in her head.
“So like, real porn?”
“Yes, as real as it can be.”
Hani swallowed hard but nodded like she was okay with it.
“With that girl?”
“No, actually, with another girl I've filmed with before.”
Now Hani looked up at him with irritation clearly showing in her face.
“You said you had just tried out filming with a girl, and that was the one with black hair!”
Eddie shrunk by both her more serious voice but could also feel how lies wanted to jump out from his mouth. He didn't want to lie, so instead he did the other thing he knew could make him escape a serious conversation: joke.
“To be fair, that girl also had black hair.”
“Eddie..!” Whined Hani, now obviously tired of him. “Can you just try to give me a true answer! If you don't want to talk to me about it, say that instead of just lying or joking.”
Eddie looked around in her kitchen, ashamed of how he was. He was in his 30s; he should be able to talk like a man, but he still spoke like a sixteen-year-old.
“I… I started doing videos a year ago, and then I met Nathalie. The girl I will film with again. We filmed for six months or something, then Luna, the girl from the video you've seen, contacted me. We filmed for three months or so.”
He took a deep breath, like it was exhausting to actually say something clearly.
“Okay… Then I know. Thank you,” said Hani calmly, but at first with a hint of annoyance, but when she saw Eddie's eyes fall to the floor and how he scratched his elbow harshly, she understood how hard it actually was for him to be honest. She laid her hand on his upper arm and caressed it gently.
“I want you to feel comfortable talking with me, speaking the truth to me. I will not judge you as long as you're honest to me. Okay, Eddie?” She looked him deep in the eyes, and she got him to smile, embarrassed. He then laughed and nodded. She looked at his boyish, dimpled smile but also at the crow's feet around his eyes. He was still a boy, even if he was a man by age.
After eating, Hani asked him about his new job. It still was a new, well-paid job. They sat on her couch, she with her wine glass and he with a bottle of beer. He had pulled up his phone and showed a picture of a tanned, muscular man: Raphael.
“I will meet him next Tuesday. It's the producer, Raphael. I know he works with a company named Brother Fuck-” He turned his gaze towards Hani when he could feel her awkward reaction. “The porn business is full of cringy production company names.”
She nodded.
“Yeah… okay, continue.”
“Yeah, Brother Fuck, and if the videos on OF get popular of me and Nathalie, they will put them up on Pornhub.”
“But you will stop doing porn when you've found another job?”
“Or a girlfriend,” said he with a smirk and made Hani blush.
“But Raphael is a weird one,” continued Eddie, now happy that he had someone to talk about it with. “I even wonder if he assaulted me when I was there.” Eddie laughed like the thought of him being abused was something comical.
“Eddie, what?” Hani sounded upset and laid her hand on his thigh, dressed in dark blue sweatpants.
“Yeah, I woke up naked and can't remember a thing, but his closeness can make me nervous sometimes. I don't even know if he's gay, but yeah, I don't know. It just felt odd. He filmed with Luna…” He messed with his phone until a thumbnail of Luna and Raphael came up, him kissing her neck. “Poor Little Slut” was the name of the video that existed just on Raphael's page. Luna had deleted all her videos with Raphael but also some of her and Eddie. Eddie searched a bit confused after the videos but let it go to talk to Hani.
“Yeah, he's weird. I would have felt if he fucked me in the ass, but yeah… Who knows?”
“And you're going to work with this guy?”
“It's good money.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked away when he saw how worried Hani looked.
“And I will have Nathalie there; I will not be alone.” He showed her a picture of Nathalie, and Hani nodded a little, unamused, and kept that expression while Eddie looked at his profile. 37,000 followers. It was far from as many as Luna had, but he had many more than Nathalie and even more than Raphael. It was a kick even if he was ashamed of his job.
He said goodbye to Hani with a long hug by the door. She wasn't the sort of girl Luna was, so a hug felt appropriate the fourth time they met.
×××
The next Tuesday, Eddie sat in a conference room in an office marked Blow Fish Productions. It was the company's cleaner name, a name they could share without immediately getting rejected for their work. The four other men around the table wore suits, even the guy with the Jack Daniels logo on his neck. Eddie himself had dressed up that day—in a lavender t-shirt in a thicker, stiffer material. It had cost 50 dollars more than his usual H&M t-shirts.
The men looked through papers, and Raphael sat with his laptop. Eddie didn't really know what to do until Nathalie walked in. She wore a sarong in black, red, and orange with a black strappy top. Eddie looked her up and down. He had seen a similar sarong not that long ago. He had never reflected on how she dressed before, but now he couldn't think about anything else. She really looked similar…
She sat down by the table diagonally from him, and Eddie gave her a stiff-lipped smile, but Nathalie just gave him a fast look. She looked cold, and Eddie raised his eyebrows. Would they fuck on camera? It would probably be hate sex in that case.
“Now it's time to get over the whole Luna thing, Nathalie. The dude was just thinking about his career, just like you are doing now,” said Raphael with a sigh. Nathalie gave him a look that softened so she could give Eddie a real look.
“So… the script.” Raphael looked at the guy with the neck tattoo, and he gave them all a single paper; there weren't any more lines than that. Eddie probably had 10, while Nathalie just had four. Eddie memorized them all at once. It was cheesy, typical porn dialogue. They had probably used the whole triangle drama with Luna as inspiration because it was about sleeping with your sister’s boyfriend. Such a classical theme, and it was also what made it more surreal for him. It was really a porno he would be in. He could feel OnlyFans had an amateur charm, but a real porno production was impersonal and unsexy. He had that feeling in his stomach again, that he was making a mistake, but he had already signed the contract. It was too late now.
They read through the lines and then looked at the rest of the script.
Oral: man on woman.
Oral: woman on man.
Penetration.
Cream pie.
Seeing it just as themes in a script made it even dirtier. He had never had scripted sex. When the meeting was over, he stopped Nathalie in the corridor outside of the conference room.
“Do you want to have a beer or something? Or a gin and tonic?” He knew that was her preferred drink. She looked him up and down; she was shorter than both Hani and Luna and was forced to tilt her neck back a long way to meet his eyes. She looked into his soulful eyes and then looked at his full lips. She couldn't stop herself from smiling at him.
“Okay, but you're paying.”
Eddie smirked a little and shrugged his shoulders. He was just happy she was open to talking to him.
They went to a restaurant close to the hotel Eddie was staying at. Raphael had offered him a bed at his place, but he didn't feel comfortable living with him again. He didn't trust him and didn't want anyone to affect his free time either. Nathalie slept at a friend's house, but it wasn't far from the hotel either.
Eddie paid for both their drinks and also dinner. He had a sirloin steak while she had a Caesar salad. It felt good for him to pay, and Nathalie smiled brightly, like he was a gentleman for paying the 30 dollars her food and drink cost. He leaned back, pleased, in the chair, sipping his beer until Nathalie took up her handbag in her lap. It was a small shoulder bag in dark brown suede with many zippers and a rhinestone N hanging from one of the zippers. He recognized the bag well, but he had seen it with a rhinestone L before. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and Nathalie looked up at him while putting on the fuchsia-colored lip gloss.
“I must ask something… What happened between you and Luna?” He leaned forward over the table so he could talk with a lower voice. He pushed away his empty plate so he could lean against the table, holding his beer.
“What do you mean?” Nathalie gave him a look like she didn't understand, but disappointingly for both her and Raphael, she wasn't such a good actress.
“Nathalie. Both you and her have clearly shown that you don't like each other.”
“She's just a bitch.”
Eddie gave her a big eyed look.
“What?? She is! I can't understand how you could be around her. Even if you mostly had sex.”
“What happened for you to feel that way?” He talked slowly, like he thought she wouldn't understand otherwise. Nathalie leaned back in her chair with crossed arms. It looked like she just didn't want to talk, so Eddie decided to poke her a bit so she would say something.
“You have the same handbag as her. And the skirt. Your hair—”
“What the fuck, Eddie?? Are you thirteen years old? We just have similar tastes!”
“Luna thinks you take after her on purpose.”
“I know she thinks that! It's so fucking silly. She could say I took after her when I had a little black dress on! And she said to others I wanted to be her “mini me”! Do you understand how embarrassing that is when she says that to other OF people?”
“She did that?”
“Yes! She destroyed so many chances for me because she said I tried to look like her and do the same videos. I didn't! It's just so fucking childish to even talk like that!”
Eddie sat quietly because he also thought it was quite silly, but he couldn't see Luna thinking Nathalie “destroyed her life” because she bought the same handbag.
“So what did you do then?”
“What do you mean?” Nathalie sipped her drink with a nonchalant expression.
“What did you do when you felt embarrassed?”
“Nothing!” She whined like a teenager.
“Nat, just tell me. What did you do?”
“It wasn't to mess things up for her, but she believes so, but I would see her brother out sometimes, and we talked, and like… I said I knew her through work, and, well, he didn't know she was a bop.”
Eddie placed his elbow on the table with his mouth in his hand. He understood now what Luna meant, and when he looked up at Nathalie, he could just see a bully. It was obvious she had told Luna’s family about her work on purpose to fuck up her life. Just because she felt small next to Luna.
“What the fuck, Nathalie?” He was so shocked his voice came out much lower than you would expect. “Did you really think her trash-talking made it right for you to hang her out like that?”
“Why do you care?” Her mouth was pursed together to a childish, sour expression.
“Because that's fucking awful!”
“She was mean to me too!”
“She bitched about you behind your back; you tried to fuck up the relationship with her family!”
“If she can't defend her life as a bop, then she shouldn't be one!”
“I haven't told my daughter! Should I do that to be able to do this??” He had raised his voice now, and Nathalie answered by doing the same.
“No, you shouldn't do this work at all when you're a dad!”
Eddie leaned back, offended, anger pushing out from his chest. He was in reality ashamed but didn't want to acknowledge that and instead transformed it into anger.
“You can't fucking say that! You have no fucking idea how it is to be a parent!” Because of the bass in his voice, he didn't need to raise it much for the other guests at the restaurant to turn their gaze towards them.
“No, but I can guess people around her would react if they knew her father got his cock sucked on video! What would her grandparents say if they saw your videos?!”
It became too much for Eddie. His parenthood had been questioned one too many times, especially by Amy's parents, and being reminded of how many people who had wanted to tear his daughter from him gave him chest pains, but also, he knew his work wasn't what a father should do. He often worried about what would happen if Sarah knew or if she found out later in life. Would she hate him?
The feelings pushed against his chest, like a caged animal wanting to escape. He jumped up from the chair like the animal had pulled him along on their search for freedom.
“You have no right to talk about my daughter like that!”
“I'm not talking about your daughter! I'm talking about you, Eddie!” Nathalie’s words still hung in the air when Eddie kicked the table so hard her glass and his plate fell off the floor with a smash.
“Hey, hey!” A bartender a head shorter than himself ran up to him and looked at him with big eyes. “It's time for you to go before we call security.” Eddie took some deep breaths and gave Nathalie a look; he didn't have time to see her reaction, though, because the bartender started to push him towards the door.
“Fine, fine. I'm going!” He said angrily as he marched away. The last thing he heard was how both the bartender and a woman asked Nathalie how she was doing, and she giggled as an answer. He shook his head while his heart beat painfully. His feelings were clearly not worth anything.
×××
He wandered around and around in his hotel room. It was small, but he had found a circle to walk in anyway. Creeping inside of him, hundreds of angry parasites crawled between his intestines and up to his brain, repeating that he was a bad father and how Sarah one day would be affected by his work. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at his phone. He needed to talk to someone, and one of the few he could see himself talking to was Hani.
“Hey, Eddie, are you okay?” Hani had heard in his voice that something was wrong. It was wobbly and heavy with emotions.
“Not really… Fuck. I don't know. I had a fight with Nathalie…”
“Oh, did you get really upset?” Hani knew about his anger issues and probably imagined the worst sort of scenario, but the reality was probably not far from it.
“Yeah… She more or less called me a bad father.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, she really kicked where it hurts,” he said with an unamused laugh and laid back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“You know she's wrong. You do everything for Sarah.”
“Do I? Or do I just do what I think is the best?”
“What's the difference? You're trying.”
“Yeah…”
He continued to talk with Hani about Nathalie long into the night. The next day he would prepare for filming; take a new STD test but he also had a wax appointment. He had never done that and didn't look forward to it. He also would try to talk to Raphael; he and Hani had decided he needed to say to him he didn't want to film with Nathalie. He slept so badly that night, and the bed felt too big and his skin too cold.
×××
“Oh, fuck..!!” He whined again even if the waxing was over. He continued to whine like a sad puppy when he sat up, and the esthetician smirked when she turned her back to him.
“How are you, Mr. Barrish?” She asked with a neutral tone even if she was smirking behind his back.
“Ehh…” He rarely got called Mr. Barrish, and it threw him off in the middle of his pity party. “I'm just nervous I will not be able to walk.”
“You will be able to walk, Mr. Barrish. What do you think about the look?”
“Ooh… Ehm… I haven't been this bare since I was twelve or something.” He laughed a little, and now the esthetician felt she could turn to him and smirk.
“You will get used to it.”
Eddie nodded and stood up unsurely, afraid it would hurt. He wasn't unfamiliar with beauty treatments. Amy had waxed his chest many times; he trimmed both his pubic, belly, and armpit hair, but getting rid of all his pubic hair and hair in close proximity to violence was new. It didn't hurt standing up, though, but it was a bit uncomfortable pulling up his boxers over the sensitive skin. After pulling on them slowly, he realized the esthetician looked at him amused.
“Silly men,” he joked, and she laughed softly. He felt her eyes move over his naked torso for a few seconds, then she looked up at his eyes again. She was probably his own age, and he gave her a warm smile, a smile she would interpret in another way. He pulled on his sweats and t-shirt while he heard her giggle again.
“Will we meet again?” she asked with a chirping voice.
“I will come to you when I start to look like a teenage boy down there.”
She giggled again and leaned against the wall.
“Thank you. Bye,” he said with a crooked smile after putting on his shoes.
“Bye…”
Eddie scratched his crotch over the fabric of his pants while walking out, not even thinking about how the woman had looked at him.
×××
He had booked a meeting with a stressed and annoyed Raphael. He had a lot of work to do for their shoot on top of other projects and wanted everything to go smoothly. That one of the leads needed to talk wasn't a sign of everything going smoothly.
Raphael wanted to meet at his home, but Eddie got a bad vibe from that idea and succeeded in persuading him to meet at a coffee shop he had seen on his way from the production company’s office. Raphael didn't look as charming and inviting as he otherwise did when he came. Instead, he looked at him grumpily, a face that changed to heavy irritation when Eddie dropped the bomb.
“Not work with Nathalie? Sucks to be you then because you have a contract.” Raphael checked both of his phones and didn't look up when he spoke to him.
“But I can't work with her.”
“Sure you can; we have Viagra. And if you're angry, you can always choke her a bit.”
“But we hate each other?”
“You're just selling you two harder.”
“But—”
Finally Raphael looked up, and his fist loudly banged against the table.
“For fuck's sake, Eddie! You have a contract!”
Eddie swallowed hard; he was rarely afraid of people getting angry, but he couldn't read Raphael, which scared him.
“You're going to fuck that bitch and get a nice big payment for it. For the next project, we can find you an easy, submissive girl, but now it's Nathalie.” He talked slowly, even threateningly. Eddie nodded a little.
“If there is any problem, I will take you to court, and if you try anything else, I can solve that too, so easily.”
Raphael's eyes were dark when he looked up at him. He wasn't that sunny guy he had pretended to be, and there were secrets behind his well-crafted mask. Eddie understood it was a threat and leaned back in the chair. Maybe even a threat that could have deadly consequences. Raphael was rich and probably knew people ready to do things for him just for a piece of his fortune.
He had really made a big mistake. A big fucking mistake.
“Did you get the wax?”
Eddie nodded with his eyes low.
“Good… Come to my place so we can see if it will do.” Eddie looked up at him with big eyes, trying to see if he was joking, but it was obvious he wasn't joking.
“Can, can, can I come later? I haven't done the STD test,” he lied and made Raphael sigh.
“Fine. You can come for a drink tonight.” Eddie dragged his hands over his thighs while nodding with a low gaze. He still didn't have any memory of the night at Raphael's house. Still no clue if he had done something inappropriate towards him.
Raphael stood up with a sigh, but when Eddie looked at him, he was smirking, pleased. He really felt he had power. He had bought Eddie's soul and could do whatever he wanted with him and his body. Eddie looked at him walking out from the coffee shop with a straight back and knew one thing: he must flee even if that could be life-threatening, and he must warn Amy and Sarah.
He really was the worst father.
×××
He took the Corvette home again, just stuffing his things in it, and fled home to his town. His heart was up in his throat the whole trip. It felt like it wanted to come up, and he would throw it up over the steering wheel. He called Amy over and over but didn't get an answer but also called Damian so he could go there and warn them. It didn't feel safe to go home, and he got Rickey to open his home for him.
He continued to call Amy while he was home, packing stuff to bring to Rickey's. The worry got just worse and worse, and in his worry he messaged Hani.
I'm close to a breakdown. I can't handle this fucking fuck. I'm the worst father.
Hani called, but he didn't answer. He wanted the phone line free if Amy called; instead, Hani messaged.
Where are you?
At home. Packing shit. Can't be home.
Why? Can I help you?
That would be kind, but I don't want to pull you into my mess.
It's okay. I'm coming over.
Eddie didn't really know what she would do, but maybe it would be calming to not be alone. He stuffed his bag full, and when he was ready, his doorbell rang. He ran to the door and opened it, stressed, and met Hani's chocolate eyes.
“Hey…” she said and gave him a hug. Eddie breathed out, calming down in her arms. “Let's sit down a bit, just take some deep breaths,” she said and patted his chest. He nodded calmly and walked towards the couch. Hani looked around. It was the first time she was there, and she was surprised at how clean and tidy it was. It wasn't a bachelor pad.
Eddie sat down on the two-seat couch, and Hani sat down close to him. He took deep breath after deep breath, then he looked at her.
“It was all the wrong people… I think they're dangerous, and this can affect Sarah…” He dragged his hands over his face, and Hani laid her hand on his thigh. She scooted even closer and dragged a hand through his hair.
“We will solve this, okay? We will solve this.”
He nodded a little, closing his eyes, and took a deep breath. He just needed to breathe calmly, but instead he felt something plush against his lips. He looked up at Hani, who smiled a little before kissing him again.
It was nice. It was really nice. Her lips were soft, and she kissed him with careful pressure. It was how a first kiss should be. Still, he didn't kiss back.
“I know, I know… I know you have a hard time letting someone in. You want to pretend everything is okay, joke and play around, but you're scared. I can see that, and you try to keep your distance from me even if you want more…”
Eddie looked at her with big eyes. It looked like he felt she told the truth, and he did. He could see he was hurt by many people in his life. He could see he probably pushed people away with lies and jokes because he couldn't handle his own truth. He could see that he didn't give people a real chance, but it wasn't Hani he hadn't dared to let in. It was Luna.
Eddie knew he had been borderline flirtatious towards Hani in the beginning, but when they had started to see each other, he had been nothing but just friendly towards her, Sarah's teacher. He had never felt such feelings for her, even if she was pretty and kind. His heart was busy with someone else. Hani had been amazing towards him, but he saw her as a friend. He has had many female friends and didn't think this was different. Hani had absolutely been special, standing out among his friends, but she wasn't like Luna because she didn't make his limbs tingle or his heart beat like a little drummer boy in his chest. Over the past few weeks he had anxiety every night from not only his job but also from hurting Luna. He was in love with her; he had acted as a boyfriend but panicked when he understood she hoped for it to be real.
“I'm sorry, Hani… But I'm in love with someone else.”
×
@kikibit
@malenoradgn
@a-differentbrandof-beans @forrealandjustsaying @useyourwandbro @turbotastic @keysandthesea-blog @muchwita @hanamirandak @hamburger-sprite
@forrealandjustsaying
Lol did people get disappointed? 😝
Only The Road Ahead
Chapter 7
Character: AU Eddie Barrish, played by Bill Skarsgård in the movie Locked (2025). His daughter, Sarah, also has a part in the story.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.
No abnormalities detected.
They got the results by mail, and the both of them got the same answer. Eddie felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and he smiled to himself, even if Luna was right next to him. They were a bit hungover from the day before, and Eddie had two hickeys on his chest. He never let her do it on his neck; that wouldn't look good when he was with Sarah.
“Oh, fuck, that's good news!” he said with a heavy exhalation where he stood in Luna's kitchen in just his blue striped boxers. He put his phone on the counter and pulled Luna into a hug.
“Will you continue to check yourself now?” Luna asked with a smirk, caressing his shoulders. She herself was dressed in both a hoodie and sweatpants.
“Fuck yes, I get it. I get it. I can have all kinds of shit if I don't test myself.”
“Yup!” Luna said while trying to understand the espresso machine she owned, but Eddie took over, who had gotten the hang of it at once.
While the espresso machine’s sound filled the room, they were silent, but after that, Eddie started to talk again because he had seen how Luna stood and stared at his arms and torso. He didn't even work out “that much”, yet he knew he had that sort of body many girls liked.
“Do you want to celebrate?”
“Celebrate?” Luna looked up at his flirtatious expression.
“Yeah, that we are healthy and sexy.”
Luna made a sound of mocking, but her eyes fell down to his abs and bulge again.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, but after breakfast!” She said without being able to hide her smile.
×××
They filmed again, not because they needed to and not even because they wanted to show other people. They both just found it hot. They lay together on the big lounge sofa Luna had out on her biggest balcony. The sun warmed their naked skin and made them sweat lightly from its heat and also from each other's warmth. Their kisses were passionate, and their hands dragged over the others' skin. Luna lay half on top of him while he lay almost on his back, but his face and neck were towards her to reach her lips but also the soft skin of her waist. One of her hands lay under his neck, but the other one dragged over the length of his cock with a firm grip. It was really nice. Lazy but passionate—a perfect mix. Eddie drew Luna closer to his body with a grip around her waist, but it wasn't enough. So he took hold of her ass cheeks and dragged her up over him so he could feel the juices of her sex against his thigh. He breathed heavily while Luna made a soft humming sound. While lying on top of him, he lifted her leg up on his hip and took a grip around his length, trying to drag it over her pussy. He noticed she was lying at the wrong angle, so he lifted his own hips and corrected how she lay with gravity and one hand. He made a pleased sound when he finally felt her wetness against the tip of his cock. Luna made a little wanting sound, a sound he recognized now as her horny sound. A sound that meant “Give me your cock now.” So he did. He slid into her and lifted his hips so he could push into her completely. It still hurt for her, but she liked it now, and when she made a pained sound, he spanked her ass instead of being worried.
“Ride me,” said he with a raspy voice, and when she didn't sit up on him fast enough, he spanked her again and pulled her down to his chest again. He took a hard grip of her cheeks and spread her open so the camera could see where they connected. Then he put the soles of his feet against the cushion of the couch and worked his hips up in a rolling motion. Luna moaned louder and louder for every thrust, and when he sped up his hips, he lifted her leg up all the way to his chest. If his brain hadn't been sex-mush, he would have been impressed by her flexibility. Luna called after God until he shifted position, letting her lay on her stomach while he stood over her on his knees, pushing her face down in a pillow. He did it hard enough for her to not be able to talk but softly enough for her to be able to breathe. When he lifted her face up by the neck, he hugged it lightly in his hand. He could feel her tighten around his cock, and he knew the pressure around her neck would make her orgasm more intensely. She cried out loudly when she came, and her pussy worked his cock so hard he couldn't stop his own orgasm creeping up over him.
×××
There was just one week left of school, then Sarah would have summer break. She would be free from school every day. Sarah had mixed feelings about it because she liked school, even if she didn't have so many friends. Her best friend was a boy named Milo, but he played mostly with the other boys because he liked sports, but he also liked cars; that's how they became friends. When they had time in school to draw, they both drew cars, and Sarah could tell him about her dad's job and what cool cars she had seen when she had been at his work. Sarah would miss Milo over the summer break, but something told her he maybe wanted to be with her a bit over the summer too, even if she didn't play a sport. On their last lesson, history with Hani, Milo shouted over the whole classroom to her:
“Sarah, your dad is here! And he's driving a Ferrari!”
Sarah’s face lit up and she ran to the window, but so did other kids, even if they probably didn't know what a Ferrari even was. Sarah looked at the low red sports car and her dad standing next to it, dressed in black Adidas track pants and a white t-shirt. He smoked his vape and made a nod to another dad who seemed to comment on the car.
“Awesome!” Said another kid while they pressed their faces against the window. Sarah looked at her dad with wonder. She thought his Corvette had been cool, but a Ferrari? Milo drew red Ferraris so often. Her dad was really the cool dad.
“Kids! Back to your seats! There’s just twenty minutes left of the day,” said Hani, gesturing with her hands that they should leave the windows, but when she looked out, even she got stuck, but she was looking at the tall, blonde man by the car. He continued to smoke and play with the sleeve of his shirt. His skin was golden, and his biceps bulged. He was not a guy an elementary school teacher should look at, but she did, and for a moment she let the kids stay by the windows so she could watch him for a bit longer.
“Is that your dad's new car?” She asked Sarah.
“I guess so. He got a promotion,” Sarah said proudly and looked at her teacher, who was playing with the orange patterned scarf that held her hair back.
“Can't we go out and look at it, Miss Hani??” Shouted Milo.
“No, we have class now,” she said but continued to look at Eddie, who had stopped smoking and instead wiped his warm face on the edge of his t-shirt. A tan, muscular torso was shown for the whole class, but it was just Hani that stopped breathing. She had never even touched a guy who looked like that. She thought back on every other attractive detail about him: his eyes, jawline, lips, and big hands, but also the bulge in his pants. She cleared her throat.
“I think it's hard—we’ll go out to the sun instead, kids! Put away your things, and when everyone is standing in their place, we can go out!”
She gave up. The kids wouldn't be able to get back into focus, and she probably wouldn't either, so it was better to embrace the sun and for her to get herself ready to talk to Sarah's dad. Sarah's extremely hot, single dad.
The kids ran out to the schoolyard while she tried to calm herself down by walking slowly. As she came out from the door, she could see Sarah, Milo, and two other boys speaking with Eddie, who looked towards the door. She just needed to talk to him.
“Eh, hey,” said Sarah's teacher to Eddie, walking up to his side. He smiled warmly at her, remembering their last chat, and a bit awkwardly, he tried to fix his hair.
“Hey, it's hot today,” said he with a laugh and dragged his hand over his warm neck. He hoped he didn't smell of sweat; it really was a hot day, and he had stood in the sun for a while. Hani giggled a little and nodded. She looked down at the kids who stood listening to them, and Eddie looked down at them.
“I must talk with Miss Hani for a few seconds… Is that okay, honey?” He heard how weird it sounded because Hani’s name had the same pronunciation as ‘honey’ but no one reacted to it because he obviously spoke to Sarah.
“Okay. Can Milo see the car after?”
“If his parents are okay with it.”
Sarah and Milo smiled excitedly before running away toward the swing set with the other boys. Eddie looked at them amused, then turned his gaze to Hani, who still smiled at him.
“I have those recipes,” she said and gestured to the school building.
“Oh? Fuck, that's so nice of you.”
“Sure. Do you want to see?” Again, she gestured to the building. Did she want him to follow her into the building? He looked at Sarah, who sat on a swing along with Milo, and then back to Hani.
“She will be alright; there are teachers out here.”
Eddie nodded a little, trusting her.
“I'll just go and say I’ll be with you for a bit? So she doesn't worry.” Hani smiled and nodded.
Eddie knew Sarah was still worried he wouldn't show up like he had done a year ago and didn't want her to feel that anymore, so he didn't want to worry her at all. After having talked with his daughter, he followed Hani to the classroom, as they talked about the school and the various kids’ art on the walls. In the classroom drawings and paintings were also put up on the wall, and after having looked through them a bit, he saw an oval with big green eyes and a small smile on a larger paper. The short hair was bright yellow, and next to the face was a blue car and a pizza. “My dad, Eddie,” was written in the corner with a pink heart. Eddie stared at it for a while, feeling the blood shooting out from his heart getting warmer and warmer and making his eyes tear.
“She was really pleased with that one. I guess you don't bake the pizza yourself?” Hani asked a bit teasingly and walked up to him. Eddie blinked away the tears and turned to Hani.
“I love it. My birthday is at the end of the summer… Maybe you can tell her it would be a good birthday present?
She giggled and nodded then they sat down on her counter together, and she gave him a red notebook. Eddie dragged his hand over it before opening it and seeing her neat handwriting. There was food from all over the world but simple with few ingredients. Eddie read a couple but looked up at her with furrowed brows.
“What's ‘simmer’? And ‘dice’?”
Hani blinked slowly. She had obviously not understood how much of a rookie he was.
“Oh, ehh…” She looked out over the classroom.
“Can't you just show me? Cook with me? Just once?”
He knew it wasn't really okay for a teacher to hang out with parents like that, but he couldn't stop himself from just trying.
“Okay,” she answered much faster than he ever thought she would.
“Yeah? Yeah, okay. Are you available tomorrow? I have quite a busy weekend.” Hani nodded and looked him straight in the eyes. Both of them smiled, then looked away and giggled a little.
×××
Eddie's day with Sarah went away fast as usual, especially when she was as impressed by the Ferrari as he was. She was a bit disappointed when he told her it wasn't his, that he had just borrowed it from a new friend, but she lit up again when he said he might be able to afford one in a few months if he got promoted again.
Eddie had quickly stopped by Raphael’s on his way home from Luna’s, and he had thrown him the keys to the car at once. They had gone to his garage, as big as two tennis courts, where nine cars stood side by side, one of them a red Ferrari. Eddie knew he shouldn't be affected by money and glitter, but cars were different for him. Cars were art, and he couldn't stop himself from being impressed and also admiring Raphael, who could actually afford those perfect artworks.
Raphael let him drive away with his Ferrari, told him to give it back to him in a week, and also think about if he could see himself being an actor in some productions he was working on. Eddie understood it would be more like real porn when he saw the award he had gotten from Pornhub standing on display in his hall. There would be totally other demands of him to do such material, but when feeling the smooth leather seats of the Ferrari and feeling the motor rumble, he knew he would do it. He could earn serious money; no one needed to know how.
×××
The building Hani lived in was a five-level building close to a middle-class area. It wasn't anything fancy and had worse standards than it should have in such an area; it was the ugly part of a nice neighborhood. Eddie knew teachers didn't earn that much; still, he had believed Hani lived more fancy. She was so collected and properly dressed, like a woman with a background with money had. It was he who had asked if they could meet at her place; he was afraid she would judge him for the area he lived in and maybe think he wouldn't be suitable as a father.
He wondered if her son would be there, but it felt like the chance was small. It would also be a relief because he didn't really have the energy to have a child to think about. He liked kids but didn't feel like trying to involve a two-year-old at the moment.
He walked up the four flights of stairs to Hani's apartment and was met with a wooden heart on the door in the rainbow’s colors. “Miss Hani,” was written with childish script in the middle. It was cute that she had a student's craft on the door. Hani opened the door after he had pressed the bell. She wore a dress in fuchsia that looked great against her skin. She might have dressed for the weather, but it also looked like she had dressed up a bit too. Eddie wore the same track pants as the day before but with a yellow tank top. He felt underdressed when he looked at her, but for him it was too hot to dress any other way, and he didn't really own anything else besides tank tops, t-shirts, and hoodies.
“Hey, you look nice,” he said with a smile and got one back from Hani, who moved away from the door so he could walk in. Eddie looked around curiously. It was much cuter than the homes he was used to visiting. Floral fabrics, neat white furniture, and porcelain bowls as decoration. Even if he had showered that day, he felt like a stain when he walked into her neat home.
“Do you drink wine?” She asked, walking toward the kitchen. Eddie followed her and discreetly sniffed his armpits when she had her back towards him. The answer was “not really,” but he said yes anyway because it felt more polite. Wine ran down too, but it wasn't a drink he would have chosen himself.
The small glass with rose wine disappeared in his big hand, and he felt even more like he was an intruder in her cute world, but he stayed by her side when she taught him as much as she could. After three glasses of wine, Eddie got comfortable, and they talked about their kids, relaxed. The father of Hani's son had left her when she was pregnant for another woman, and she hadn't seen him since. Still, she didn't react negatively to Eddie's story about how he had neglected Sarah, she focused on how he did what he could now.
“But what do you do for work now? I actually left my car at the shop that I thought you worked at, but they said you quit.”
Eddie looked at her with big eyes and tried to find a lie in his head. She looked at him with kind eyes, and it made Eddie want to try something new—not lie.
“I have an OnlyFans I create content for.”
Hani furrowed her brows.
“You mean… Like porn?”
“Yeah. The pay is actually really great, and it's not as awful and degrading as people say. Or at least not for a guy. I don't know what girls feel.”
“Oh…” Hani looked down, and Eddie could see from her shocked expression that she had a problem with it. He started to regret being honest with her. The truth wasn't always the best alternative.
“You film with girls? Like, having sex with them?
“No, no. God, no. Or, I've tried, but I actually earn more on my solo material. Gay guys, you know.”
It was like the lies were easier to formulate than the truth, like his brain created so many lies he had a bank for them ready in his head.
“Does your ex know?”
“She knows about the account but not that it's the only income I have.”
Hani stood silent a while, and Eddie let her because he knew too many lies always made the lie’s credibility go down.
“Okay…” Hani nodded a little and then smiled at him.
“I guess it's just until you find a real job?”
“Yeah, of course. I miss working with cars.” And earning 50% less than now.
They continued with making the food and got to enjoy eating it. Even if he had lied, the night was wonderful and ended with a close hug by the door. Eddie was used to getting some more action at the end of the night but this felt like something else. She wasn't a girl like Luna.
×××
After having left Sarah at her mom's again on a Saturday, Eddie packed a light bag. This time it wasn't Luna he would visit but Raphael. He would even stay in a room in his house while they would look through girls he could see himself working with and read scripts and look over themes he was comfortable doing. They would also write a contract. Eddie felt both excited and nervous. This would change his life.
He looked at himself in the rearview mirror before going. He looked himself in the eyes. His eyes were shiny and full of something else than nerves. He looked down at his hands on the steering wheel; his fingers were shaking. This could change his life. He would really be a porn actor, not a silly bop on OnlyFans. He would probably be on Pornhub, and everyone would have full access to what should be the most private thing for him.
He had seen how Hani judged him, but he needed to do this. This was the only thing he could do. The only blessing he had gotten in life. He could give Sarah everything with that sort of salary.
Still he laid his head against the steering wheel with anxiety shooting out in his body from his chest.
×××
He loved driving. Far and on broad highways but also on small little country roads. It was the therapy he needed. The calming moment before meeting the charismatic Raphael and starting his career. He liked it so much he wished the trip could be longer when he saw Raphael's house.
He parked the Ferrari just outside the house and looked at the white luxury home. It looked threatening, and he had a bad feeling in his belly. There was something with Raphael that made his inner alarms go off, but he tried to shake it off. This wasn't a movie with a rich villain, and he was the leading man. He needed to let it go. Raphael would make him rich and successful.
Just when he should have jumped out from the car, he saw Raphael coming out from the house's big entrance. He wore a set with a shirt and pants in beige linen. He really looked rich, with his big gold watch and perfectly tanned skin. Eddie might have been jealous of Raphael, but not his style; he thought he looked both boring and silly at the same time.
He jumped out of the car and gave Raphael a nod; he would need to shout if he tried to say hello at that distance. He took his sport bag from the back of the car and threw it on his shoulder, then walked with long strides towards the entrance and a waving Raphael.
“Eddie! My friend!” He said brightly and pulled him into a hard hug when he was close.
“I brought your baby back,” joked Eddie, about the Ferrari.
“That was nice of you. She may miss her daddy, or are you her new one?”
“I'm everyone's daddy.”
Eddie smirked, and Raphael laughed and gave him a hard clap on the back while they walked into the house. The house was big and airy with two staircases in a circle shape in the hallway. In the middle stood a round table with purple flowers. It looked like someone had been styling the home, and the purple details repeated itself in every room. Even the guest room Eddie got had purple colored curtains and a rug. He decided immediately that he hated it.
“This is nice,” said he when Raphael showed him the room.
“Good. You can rest before dinner if you want. There’s a steam shower and a jacuzzi in the bathroom at the end of the hallway; here it's just the regular kind. You have the pool on the backside, and the first fridge in the kitchen has things for guests. And the spa is to the left of the right back door.”
Eddie looked at Raphael in wonder and put down his bag on the floor.
“Is there a little masseuse there too?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it's a ‘masseuse.’”
Raphael was pleased with his joke, and Eddie smiled just to make him happy.
“Yeah, but a nap would be awesome, if it's okay?”
“Sure, do what you want. There is lube and napkins in the nightstand drawer. It looks like you may need to rub one out.”
Eddie looked towards the nightstand. It was even a bit much for him to talk like that, and he hoped Raphael would leave him alone without him needing to look at him again.
Eddie faked a yawn and stretched. He could feel Raphael drag his hand over his back and then give him a hard clap on his shoulder again.
“I'll go to the office. See you later.”
“Yeah.”
When Raphael had left him alone, behind a closed door he shook off the feeling of his hand on his back, and he even tried scratching it away. Something really didn't feel right, but maybe he just needed a nap. He took off all his clothes except his gray boxers and crawled down in the soft bed. It felt nice. It felt really nice. He listened out making sure Raphael wasn't outside the door and then thought about beautiful girls when he stuffed his hand down his underwear.
×××
Eddie laughed so hard he threw his head back and splashed beer from his glass over his whole hand.
“I've been eating a burgognon-
“Boeuf bourguignon,” corrected Raphael with a laugh, who sat on the other side of the dinner table.
“That too, and I've had six beers and that booze you gave me; my body doesn't look like it usually does. I will not take my clothes off!”
“I just want to see how you look from other angles, if it will work for us to film from every angle.”
Eddie sighed, amused, and gave Raphael a look, who looked at him pleadingly. Eddie, lost and drunk, stood up from his seat and pulled off his t-shirt.
“You see? Gut,” he pushed a finger into his belly where you clearly could see abs then he pulled down his red basketball shorts and his fresh white boxers unshyly, in the middle of the dining room. Raphael looked pleased, but Eddie didn't notice because he just took his beer and drank even more.
“You look good, man; I can work with that,” said Raphael. Eddie wiped his mouth on his arm and nodded.
“Nice.”
“Come and sit down here next to me so we can look at the girls.” Raphael started to mess with his phone while Eddie grabbed his clothes.
“Let it be, just come here.”
Eddie felt a bad feeling in his body, but still the alcohol took over, so he sat down next to Raphael, even if he was completely naked. Raphael bent forward towards him, with his hand on his thigh then he started to swipe so Eddie could see the pictures of the girls. Close-ups, full-body, but also very naked pictures. Eddie didn't say anything, both because of how the alcohol made him feel and also because he didn't feel comfortable talking about girls like that, especially not with a man he didn't really know. Raphael talked about them all in an objectifying way while Eddie felt the booze he had given him wanting to push up his throat.
“This girl you will recognize!”
Eddie looked at the screen again. It was Nathalie with long dark hair and new boobs. Nathalie in a black maxi skirt paired with a short black top. And Nathalie undressed.
“Nathalie…” he said with a tired, sickly voice.
“Yeah, you two have something. I would love to work with you both. Would that work for you?”
Eddie had covered his mouth with his hand but nodded in reply.
“Awesome. By the way, I have the contract here.”
Eddie nodded but felt his stomach jump and felt something crawl up his throat but then explode out on Raphael’s carpet: boeuf bourguignon mixed with beer and Everclear.
×××
Eddie looked around in the bright room from the bed with dark purple sheets. He had a pool of saliva under his cheek, and his head spun so much he couldn't take in details around him. He tried to sit up and realized then he was completely naked. He shut his eyes again, but after a few minutes he pushed himself up from the bed and tried to focus his eyes on one point so he could see something and remember where he was. He looked at the purple details and the pictures of the walls with close-ups of women’s naked bodies.
Raphael. He was at Raphael's, and he must have drunk his whole liquor cabinet. But why was he naked? Had a girl been there? Otherwise he always slept in boxers at least. He didn't like the feeling of his cock being all free. On weak legs he stood up and looked around for his clothes so he could pull on something. He had a feeling that he should have anxiety over something but couldn't remember what. He could vaguely remember Nathalie's face and tried to remember if she had joined them, but it didn't feel like it.
After pulling on some sweats, he sat down on the bed in confusion until there was a knock on the door and Raphael peeked in.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh yeah, sure… How much did I drink yesterday?”
“You drank a lot! I didn't think you were that sort of drinker.”
“What did I drink? I feel awful.”
“Just beer and vodka.”
Eddie nodded a little.
“Oh, right!” Raphael pulled up Eddie's phone from the pocket of his white slacks. “It was ringing an hour ago. Amy?”
Eddie took the phone and looked at it nervously. What had he missed now?
“I really must call her.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Raphael without leaving the room even if Eddie sounded worried.
“Can I have some privacy?” Eddie sounded a bit annoyed, but he felt it was all right. Even if he stayed there one night, he still had the right to some privacy.
“Yes, yes. Of course!” Raphael laughed and left the room.
Eddie felt the worry grow in his chest. Had something happened to his girl?
“Hey Eddie…” Amy didn't sound stressed, more nervous, and Eddie furrowed his brows. She was never nervous; it was she who always made him nervous. “How are you?”
“Good. Good… A bit tired,” he lied and laid down on the bed again. If something had happened to Sarah, she would have told him at once, so he relaxed a bit. “How are you?”
Amy let out a deep exhalation.
“God… Eddie, I didn't want to tell you this over the phone, but I met Damian last night, and I felt I needed to talk to you.”
Eddie, with his massive hangover, couldn't understand at all what she would say, even if it was quite obvious what would come out of her mouth.
“Okay?”
Amy sighed because she had hoped he would understand.
“I met Damian last night at Basement, and… he met my boyfriend.”
For a moment, Eddie's brain was too mushed to understand the word boyfriend, mostly because that was his word. He was the only boyfriend she had had. Then he became her ex-boyfriend, and that sounded pretty much the same.
“His name is Jonah, and we met through some friends. Sarah hasn't met him yet because I want you to meet him first. We can handle this as adults.”
He could hear in her tone she was worried he wouldn't handle it like that, but after some deep breaths, he took a moment to just see what he felt. He didn't feel rage or heavy jealousy as he had thought. Maybe it was the hangover that made him more relaxed, but either way, he didn't have those selfish feelings.
“Oh. Okay. Ehm… I'm happy for you,” he said maturely which made Amy speechless.
“Huh?” She said, confused.
“I'm happy for you. You deserve love, Amy. I hope Jonah gives you that.”
Amy was completely quiet, and Eddie started to wonder if she even was there.
“Hello?”
“Yeah… Eh, I didn't expect that reaction.”
“Okay?”
“That's… Really mature of you, Ed… What happened?” she said with a laugh. Eddie looked up at the ceiling, thinking about it, and smiled a little to himself.
“Something, I guess. Even I’ve gotten older.” He chuckled and Amy giggled in his ear. “But yeah… It was nice of you to tell me yourself.”
“Of course!”
“Is Sarah there?”
“She's at the park with Mom.”
“Okay… Well then, ehm…”
It was always awkward hanging up; many times it felt as if they should have more things to talk about, but they didn't anymore.
“Bye,” said Amy, and Eddie said the same back. He stood up after that and looked at himself in the mirror on the wall. He looked similar to a corpse, but he just thought about his reaction to Amy's news. He really wasn't upset. Not at all, and it even surprised him.
After a shower and his morning routine, he walked down to the kitchen and met Raphael by the counter.
“Was it something important?” He asked and once again gave him a pat on the back. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and sweats, and even if he was fresh from the shower, he still looked pale and was dark under his eyes.
“No, not really.”
“Good. Grab something to eat. There is fresh bread on the table.”
Eddie did what he was told and had a bit of silence until he had eaten up his sandwiches. Raphael sat down once again next to him and gave Eddie some sort of flashback, especially when he laid the contract in front of him. Eddie looked at it with big eyes. He read through it and saw his own signature on it. They had said 15,000 for every project; now it stood at 8,000 instead.
“Didn't we say 15?”
“No, we have said 8 the whole time.”
Eddie laughed, unamused, but felt too scared to lose the chance that he just nodded. He gave it back to Raphael with a smirk.
“Nice.”
“Really nice. I'm happy to have you on my team, Eddie. Both you and Nathalie, I will meet her today.” Raphael pulled him into a one-armed hug, and Eddie did it back uncomfortably while remembering their conversation about Nathalie, about them working together again. He was happy when he saw his phone ring and could release Raphael. It was Luna. Raphael looked down at his screen just as curiously and started to sing Luna's name sillily.
“I like Luna, but she has a weird view of the business.”
Eddie didn't say anything because he would never say anything bad about Luna, especially not to such a new acquaintance as Raphael; instead, he walked away from the room and answered.
“Hey, Eddie-Bear,” she said with a giggle. “I saw on Snap you're in town?”
He hadn't thought about the fact that she could see him on the Snapchat map.
“Yeah, just visiting a friend. I’m going home today, though.”
“Oh, you don't want to come here? I would love that. I'm just bored.”
Eddie smiled a little.
“Yeah, sure. In a couple of hours?”
“That sounds good. Should I teach you to surf now then?”
Eddie had said many times he wanted to learn, and he was an experienced skater, even having been in some competitions as a teen; it would be easy for him to learn how to surf.
“Right now I'm just hungover, but maybe tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.”
When they hung up, Raphael leaned against the doorpost.
“Already going?”
“Yeah, Luna is waiting.”
“Oh…” Eddie could feel some sort of irritation from him, but it disappeared fast.
“Good, then you can tell her you can't work together anymore.”
Eddie scratched his belly, confused, and then behind his ear.
“It’s in the contract. No other work at the same time. It's quite obvious for me,” continued Raphael. Eddie nodded and swallowed hard. Why did it feel like he had made such a mistake?
“Can I get a copy of the contract?” He asked and got a nod from Raphael.
He got the contract while making himself ready to go. They hugged goodbye, and then Eddie took his own Corvette that had rested a week in Raphael's garage. It was nice to sit in his own car again. It felt safe and familiar, just like it would to sleep at Luna's place instead of Raphael's.
×××
It didn't take long for Eddie and Luna to find her couch where they could kiss softly. She had her legs in his lap and wore a sarong with a high slit where he could caress her naked leg and hip. He didn't want to think about it, but Raphael made him feel dirty, and it was nice to be close to a woman again and not feel a man's rough hands on him. Luna's hands were small and soft with long nails she dragged through his hair and over his shoulders. It was the kind of closeness he liked, not Raphael's weird behavior.
Luna giggled when he gave her several pecks on the lips fast; it made him smile and continue, and he laid his hands on her waist. Luna smiled into the kisses, and a bit clumsily, she crawled up in his lap. She kissed his nose, and it was then he remembered what he needed to tell her.
He continued to kiss her for a while, even dragging his hands over her chest like it could comfort him, like a child hugging their stuffy. After a few minutes he pulled away and licked his lips clean from her lip gloss. Luna just thought he needed a break, but then he looked up at her seriously with his sad puppy eyes. Luna furrowed her brows and hugged his shoulders.
“What is it now?”
“You will be mad…” Luna continued to look at him, waiting for him to say more.
“I kind of got an offer from Raphael.”
Luna released his shoulders and looked away. He couldn't read her face; she mostly looked tired.
“I'm going to become an actor in his productions.”
Luna shut her eyes and shook her head, then she laughed unamused.
“Of course…”
“I can get really big paychecks, and I don't need to think about how many want to see it; I get the same amount anyway.
Luna had the same unamused expression, and Eddie looked at her, but irritation had started to creep on him.
“It's for my daughter, you know, and I'm sorry, but our work will end here. I must put myself fully into my new job.”
“With Raphael? God… Nice pick. The biggest asshole of them all.”
“You have filmed with him!”
“Yeah, exactly, so I know!”
Luna moved from his lap and sat down next to him with crossed arms. Eddie sat and looked at her and smacked his lips like he couldn't believe that she acted like she did.
“There’s one more thing.”
Luna looked up at him but still wore a pout.
“He has an idea about who I should act with, and he thinks Nathalie and I had chemistry.” He didn't know how to react when Luna started to laugh.
“Of course! Of course!” She dragged her hands over her face and through her long hair while laughing in a loud, unamused way.
“God… That fucking bitch…”
Eddie sat and looked at Luna with big eyes now. He remembered that Nathalie had had a similar reaction to her name and wondered now what it was actually about.
“You don't like her?”
“Nathalie? She's the biggest fake-ass bitch I've met. I rarely take to violence, but God, I could hit her with my fist right in the head. Such a gross fucking human being.”
Eddie had never heard her talk like that and felt a bit awkward. He himself swore a lot, but still he got a bit uncomfortable hearing Luna talk like that.
“Why?” He asked and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Luna stared at him a while, then sighed.
“You will say it's girl shit.”
“Try me.”
“God…” Luna sat down, leaned forward so they could look at each other, but she didn't look at him; she looked at her phone. Eddie looked down at it discreetly, but it wasn't really necessary because she showed him at once a picture of Nathalie. Eddie looked at it but saw just Nathalie, dressed in a pair of light baggy jeans and a short black tube top, with her long black hair over her shoulder.
“Don't you see it?” Luna asked and gave her phone to him.
“See what?”
“Ehm, the hair? The clothes? The nails? And even the boobs?”
Eddie stared at the picture and could see what Luna meant. They looked similar. They weren't really alike, but their style was similar.
“But she’s always looked like this.”
“It's because you've known her longer than you've known me! She had mousy brown hair, small boobs, and dressed coquette-ish!”
Eddie sat quietly because this really was girl shit for him. Who cares if you wore the same jeans or top?
“You don't get it,” she said, upset, and looked away.
“No, and even if I did, I don't understand why you hate her that much."
Luna stared up at the ceiling because her eyes started to tear.
“She just… She almost destroyed my life!” She broke down in tears and laid her hands over her face. Eddie sat quietly because he didn't feel comforting her would lead him to the answer he wanted. Luna took a deep breath, but Eddie could almost see how the tears transformed to anger.
“I forbid you to work with her!” She said and pointed at him, upset. Eddie looked between her determined face and her finger.
"Forbidden?"
“Yes! You will never see her again!”
Eddie looked at her confused in an annoyed way.
“I forbid it!”
“Forbid? Forbid? What the fuck do you mean?”
“Forbid!” Luna held her hands out like it was obvious but that made Eddie stand up in anger.
“You can't forbid me to do anything! What the fuck?! I'm not your fucking boyfriend!!”
He shouted it louder than he thought, and it silenced both of them. They looked at each other, breathing deeply, and the upset faces melted away into sadness. Luna looked down at the rug and nodded to herself.
“I know… I know…” It was obvious in her voice that she had started to cry. Eddie shrunk in shame, but it was true. He wasn't her boyfriend, but looking at her cry harder and harder, he understood she wanted him to be. She looked up at him with wet cheeks and tried to calm herself with deep breaths. Eddie couldn't look at her when she looked so sad and fragile.
“So why are you here? Why are you here?”
Eddie shrunk even more in sadness and resignation. He didn't have a good answer because they were all so selfish. He knew he had no reason to be there, really, especially not when he hurt her.
“I'm really sorry, Luna… But I'm not your boyfriend.”
×
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