ball so hard motherfuckers wanna find me

“I never said you were,” said Fenrik calmly. “I’m just trying to figure this out with you, alright?” He gave her a look as if to try and reassure her that he was on her side. “I believe you. There’s obviously something we’re missing so I want to see what we’re missing.” 

“Really? I think the other problem is better. There’s an obvious solution. One that I can actually help with, anyway. A ghost? I’ve got no fucking clue. I’m not a ghostbuster.” He looked like he was thinking for a moment.

"I'm not crazy, Fenrik," she bit back, she couldn't help herself. She knew she wasn't crazy, as crazy as she felt. "Someone's following me. Ever since -- ever since those men were here. It's -- I don't know how, because I saw you kill him," her voice broke slightly, lowering on the last part even though there was no one else. "But he's there. I know it's him."

Fenrik looked at her, as if examining her. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, though it was hard to consolidate what he knew to be true, with what she was experiencing. He also wasn’t trying to be dismissive, and more trying to figure out what he could do. Fenrik’s manner of resolving most things was simply to get rid of the problem. Supernatural and ghosts, though, were a little bit different. 

She let out a breath, putting her bag down on the bench and slipping into one of the stools there. "No, not all the time. It's just -- it's like, I've been followed before, you know. When a fan is too eager, or whatever," maybe she was downplaying the part of a crazy fan, when someone thinks you owe them because you're their favourite player.

Fenrik gave her a look. “I don't fucking know. Do I look like a fucking ghostbuster to you?" He ran a hand over his face. "Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” he said, able to hear the exasperation in her voice. “I mean, you’re telling me for a reason, I assume. Are you asking for my help? For me to see if I can take care of the problem?”

"I don't know." It had been an instinct. When she couldn't ignore the man anymore, when she couldn't pretend seeing him was just a coincidence. The only solution she could think of was going to the compound and finding Fenrik.

“Pretty fucking sure,” said Fenrik with a nod. “Suppose if we were dealing with vampires, then might’ve been a different story, but I’m also pretty fucking positive they weren’t vampires.” He tilted his head. “You said someone bumped into him? So, we’re not talking about an actual ghost?”

Dawn felt frustrated, obvious in the exasperated way she answer, "I don't know Fenrik. If he's dead then how is he following me." She was scared. Of course she was. She felt like she always looking over her shoulder.

Fenrik would have to take her word for it, because he obviously wouldn’t know about the experience. He knew the culture existed, but he couldn’t say more than that. He didn’t say anything more about that. Instead, he observed her, as if trying to see what she saw through her description. 

"No. He's not -- it's not like some boogie man at the end of my bed. It's like -- I'll be out, and I see him. And then when I look again he's still there. I even saw someone bump into him once. I don't --" Dawn let out a frustrated sigh. She had to ask the question she really didn't want to, feeling sick just thinking of the words. "Are you sure he's dead?"

Fenrik listened. Sure, there was magic on the island, but even magic had its rules that it followed. There were definitely rules and logical explanations for just about everything, and it was those rules and logic he firmly believed in. 

"I don't know," she curled her hands around the mug and drew it towards her, more for comfort than anything. She wouldn't be drinking it. "Fans are different. Even the -- more eager ones. You can see the excitement. Or they're like, nervous." She'd been famous long enough that could speak so matter of factly about it.

Fenrik looked at her, and snorted slightly. “Do I look like I believe in spirits that linger on earth for no reason as if this fucking cesspool of a shit place gave people a reason to hang around? No,” he said. “I don’t. If you believe in ghosts, you should probably keep that to myself,” he told her. “Why do you ask?” He put on a pot of coffee now, the smell of coffee brewing suddenly permeating the space, taking over the linger smell of oil.

"Great. That's -- great." It wasn't unsurprising, despite the fact they lived somewhere with werewolves and mermaids and vampires, but it sure made it harder to get Fenrik on board with the fact that she thought she was being haunted by the man he killed in front of her. But how else could she put it? "I don't know. I -- I keep getting this feeling I'm being watched. And I keep seeing this one man. Like I'm being followed or something. But he -- well, he looks exactly like that one -- the one who attacked me here. Kind of feel like I'm going a bit crazy." She couldn't bring herself to mention the mans death. She was sure Fenrik knew who she was talking about.

Fenrik had mostly kept busy over the summer months by working on the cars that came through his garage. It had been an uneventful few months. Besides, before he could do anything with his ultimate goal when it came to avenging his family, he thought it might not be a bad idea to lie low until he could come up with a plan of action and for now, that meant just doing his work. 

Dawn didn't bother to hide the roll of her eyes at Fenrik's response, long having learned exactly what the man was like. Which is why the blunt response that may have once upset her rolled off her back. She knew it wasn't her at all - it was just Fenrik. Which was also why she didn't beat around the bush when she asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"I just couldn't imagine losing him, I think it would kill me too, which is funny 'cause at one point I couldn't stand him." One loss too many for Orlaith; if something happened to Tristan, she'd have lost every piece of her family. What else would she be able to do but give in? No wonder she'd got so upset when it came to the bike. She laughed too, though gently. "I suppose that's a good measure of how you're doing with your grief. Sounds like you didn't rush yourself, which some people can do."

"Emre annoyed me at the start too. Mean, we were teenagers and he lived around the corner from my grandparents. Stereotypical teen romcom type of stuff." Dawn let out a small laugh. She understood exactly where Orlaith was coming from. "Trust me, I barely left my bed for a year afterwards," a fact that would've been true whether she was recovering from her injuries or not. "If I didn't have my work, my family -- friends. I had so much good to focus on, but even then it was so hard. But yeah. I'm -- I'm in a good place now. And I'm grateful that I got to have him at all, even if it wasn't forever like we thought." Her soft smile was genuine, as she toyed with her rings.

"Oh." It was an underwhelming reaction perhaps, but for a moment it was all Orlaith had. Something seemed to constrict in her chest. After all, hadn't that been what had led to Tristan's spur of the moment proposal? An argument about what it would do to her if she lost him and her wanting him to care about that? She wondered if she would be standing here having this conversation at all with Dawn if they hadn't had that fight. If they'd have spent the last week organising a wedding at all. Suddenly she didn't want to be in this stupid bar with colleagues from work, she wanted to be home. But that was stupid; Tristan was fine and would be whether she was there or not. She swallowed the feeling down with another sip of beer.

Dawn offered a small smile. "It's okay. I don't mind talking about it." Fingers shifted around her wine glass. "He was the love of my life, y'know. We met when we were fourteen, I thought he was my forever. It didn't end up that way, but I -- I'm at a good place with it. Mean -- I was finally able to sleep with someone new for the first time in years a couple months ago." She let out a small laugh. Healing was a funny thing.

Dawn nodded, sympathetic. If she wasn't so focused on soccer, maybe that would be her, bouncing around from thing to thing. She'd been lost after the accident, not knowing what her future would look like. She'd lost the love of her life, and with legs that didn't work, had she lost her dreams too?

He nodded. “I will,” he promised Oumar was at least good at that. He knew how to have a good time, which may have been his problem. He was always looking for ways to make things more fun. Not even just for himself, but for others around him. His parents had never liked that, given their no-nonsense attitudes. 

"It's kind of funny. Sometimes i wonder what life would be like if I'd just gone and become a teacher or something like that." She let out a small laugh. "Kind of ironic, given my job is something so many people had as a dream when they were kids." It wasn't lost on her how lucky she was. That she was able to turn her childhood dream into her reality.

Oumar shrugged. “I dunno. Pick one. I wanted to study archeology because I liked dinosaurs. Thought I might learn a couple languages and be able to travel as some sort of foreign ambassador. Thought I could learn to draw and maybe be a comic book artists. Honestly, I went through dream jobs the same way I go through hobbies, just adjusting what I thought would be cool based on what I was into.” His ever shifting hyperfixations also determined his ideal job.

Dawn nodded, sympathetic. If she wasn't so focused on soccer, maybe that would be her, bouncing around from thing to thing. She'd been lost after the accident, not knowing what her future would look like. She'd lost the love of her life, and with legs that didn't work, had she lost her dreams too?

“Yeah?” asked Oumar. “What’s that like?” He couldn’t imagine knowing what you wanted for so long. Oumar probably had the issue of having too many varied interests, moving from hyperfixation to hyperfixation, never really developing a talent in one specific area. Not to mention, most of his interests lay in pop culture, and he had no idea how to make a career of that. 

"It's kind of funny. Sometimes i wonder what life would be like if I'd just gone and become a teacher or something like that." She let out a small laugh. "Kind of ironic, given my job is something so many people had as a dream when they were kids." It wasn't lost on her how lucky she was. That she was able to turn her childhood dream into her reality.

"I think I'm more excited about after," Orlaith said, after taking a contemplative sip of her beer, "the being married." And that was true, though of course she looked forward to the day, having her moment in a white dress - nothing too over the top, given the size of the wedding - and the hotel with Tristan and of course the food. "I don't really have any family, but when we're married..." Her words trailed off as she shrugged, thinking it went without saying what she meant; when they were married she'd have the security of a family again, and not one that existed because it had to, but one that existed out of choice. Her mother and father might not want her, but Tristan did. He had chosen her.

“That’s it, really. Having a person who you choose, whether it’s easy or hard, they’re there for you, and you for them.” Dawn felt for Orlaith. She had her family, and when they got together, she gained Emre’s family. It was with his mum that she was able to cling to and grieve after the accident. Both missing the same shaped hole. “I am.” Dawn nodded, before correcting herself. “Was. He passed away. It’ll have been five years in January.” Dawn didn’t mind that Orlaith had asked, nor did she mind telling her. Her mind was already in the topic, so it didn’t feel like she had been sprung with it. “When we got engaged, we were so young. We’d been together for like five years, but we were still teenagers. He would jokingly ask me to marry him like, all the time. Make rings out of grass, or use a cheeto. I asked him once how I’d know if he was being serious, and he said he’d use one of those rings off of a coke can. I didn’t think he was being serious, then a few months later, there we were in our favourite spot with the ring off a coke can. Didn’t get a proper one for months after that, but it never really mattered. I was just — so happy.”