You turn your attention back to your destination. You wave to the table by the window as Shanna hides her laughter behind her hand. Audrey shakes her head and pretends not to notice, and Camille is blissfully unaware as she bites her acrylic and preens over the screen of her phone.

“Sorry again,” you huff and drop into the empty seat. “My bus got caught at Huron, then I missed my transfer.”

“Hmph, Noah dropped us off. He was in the area,” Audrey boasts.

“In the area?”

“Yeah, well, Shanna stopped by so we were already hanging and Camille doesn’t live that far…”

You hide your disappointment. You don’t live that far from Camille; if they could go ten minutes out of the way to get her, you could’ve at least met them at her place. You shrug it off and untangle the strap of your purse from around your neck.

“What did you guys get? Anything good?”

“Mmm, I’m hooked on these protein coffees since Brody got me on them.” Camille says. “I can skip breakfast and lunch.”

You try to betray your concern. That manufactured protein isn’t much of a substitute for two meals. She’s never been one to listen, and since she got with Brody, well, she’s not hearing any sense. Something about men makes girls dumb. Yourself, not excluded, though you’ve never really gotten that deep in… Not really.

“Keon’s coming back tonight,” Shanna says dreamily. “Him and his brothers went down south and he had no signal for a whole day. It was awful.”

You peer over at the menu as you try to make up your mind, the girls offering few suggestions as they fawn over their precious boyfriends. You might be just as stupid if someone was into you. Hell, you’ve already done enough dumb things to make up for that.

A flush of heat runs up the back of your neck. You should’ve deleted the thing before anyone saw. You should never have posted it. But Camille and her chronically online self caught you before your conscience could.

“I’m going to grab a latte.” You say as you stand. The girls barely notice your declaration.

You join the short line and wait your turn. You order the oatmeal cookie latte, intrigued by the flavour despite the higher dose of sugar. You get your drink and return to the table.

The perfectly swirled whip and cinnamon dusting makes your mouth water. As you sip, a blot of cream sticking to your nose, Camille sits up and smirks at you.

“Sooooo….” she begins. “Who’s this hottie I saw on your insta?”

You blanch. You knew it would come up. How could it not? She’d been texting her and you’d been pushing it off as a ‘long story’. Now, you have no excuse.

“Yeah, he’s… kinda cute. Kinda old though.” Shanna giggles.

You frown. You didn’t think he looked that old. At least, you thought he was good-looking enough not to think about it. You roll your foot and wipe your nose with your sleeve.

“It’s just a… distance thing, you know? We met at the gallery. He was there for a show. From out of town.” You piece together the story, hoping it didn’t sound as ridiculous as it did in your head. “I dunno, he gave me his number so…”

“That explains the suit.” Audrey laughs.

“Suit?”

“That’s how you can tell he’s old.” Shanna adds.

You pout.

“Nothing wrong with an old guy. Especially one in suits like that.” Camille grins. “It means he’s rich.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t think of it.”

“Well, I bet women his own age are too stiff.” Camille adds. “What age are we supposed to dry up, anyway?”

You cringe. You hate when she says things like that. It’s demeaning.

“So… what was his name again. It sounded old too.” Shanna snipes.

You sigh and take another sip of sugary milk and espresso.

“Thomas. But… I call him Tom,” you lie. “He’s nice. He likes art too so…”

“He’s lame like you. Finally found someone at your level,” Shanna snarks.

“Don’t be rude,” Audrey jabs her. “Jeez, Shanna. Tell Keon to take the stick out of your ass when he gets back.”

“I don’t do that.” She sneers. “Whore.”

You sink down, glad for the distraction, but horrified by the conversation.

“Really, that’s not what I heard,” Audrey says.

“Mrs. Sloppy Seconds would know all about me.”

“Colin never even wanted you. He was just trying to get to me.”

“Girls, please. You’re both sluts.” Camille snickers.

You blow out through your lips and tap your fingers on your cup. They have so much going on, you just hope they forget this dumb fairy tale you cooked up. You certainly hope you can.

📱

It’s a mistake. It’s all been one big mistake. More of a series of mistakes.

The first picture turned into another. Then several. Then a whole string of imagined dates, bolstered by the magic of AI. It’s dangerous. Not to mention disingenuous, if not damaging. The dangers of technology are all too real but do little to deter your spiral.

It’s like an addict. You hit a low and just want a little lift, so you do the thing, get that spike in dopamine, then slowly sink back to reality and what you’ve just done. The problem is, you’ve been living in anything but reality.

It started with Camille and Shanna posting about a beach day with their guys. Then Audrey sharing all the gifts Noah got her for her birthday. Then they asked you to come out to the club with all of them and you were left in the corner as they grinded up on each other. The seventh wheel. The loser.

So you lied. They don’t ask questions so it’s easy. Your mom wanted you to visit and you needed the breathing room. But that’s not what you told your friends.

“Thomas wants to meet up again. He travels a lot. You know, he’s a personal buyer for some very wealthy clients.” You read about that in a thriller novel you got from the library. It sounded like a dream job. And totally fake. They didn’t think twice.

Maybe they just don’t care that much, or maybe they don’t think you’re smart enough to lie like that. It would be easy enough to reverse search any of the photos and get the ‘similar images’ that lead right back to the site you found the source from. 

You at least chose something abstract. A hotel manager in Egypt; not glorious enough to attract suspicion. His photo on the business page was buried deep behind the front page of the extravagant resort he worked at.

You take the AI image and put it into the editing app. There’s a few things you need to fix to hide the machine’s errors. It’s not a perfect technology. Not yet. And you’re too uptight to cross your fingers that no one notices.

You upload the image onto your Insta. Did the AI try to make you prettier? You put a description on it; ‘Enjoying the sun’. You look out at the summer rain as your mom rambles on about her garden and the squirrels.

You put your phone down and nod along with her gripes. You’re at least happy she hasn’t asked about any ‘boys’, or not yet. Even if she does, you won’t make the same mistake twice. Will you?

Your phone vibrates. Shanna hearted the picture. And Audrey. And someone else. You tap the notification to read the next name. Shit, shit, shit. It can’t be.

You scramble to click through to the Hotel’s Instagram. You’re shaking. It can’t be. It’s a trick. You bet one of them figured it out and created a fake page. They’re messing with you.

You scroll through. No, these posts go back and back and back. They show all the amenities of the hotel, different promotions, suite descriptions. Oh god.

You block the page and back out of the app. You once more drop your phone and grip your head. Your mother doesn’t notice as she rambles at the window.

“It’ll be good for the tomatoes…” She nods at the dreary sky. “Keep the dang squirrels out.”

📱

You quickly hide your phone as you hear the back room door. You sniff and lift your head. You grab the feather duster and pretend to be diligently clearing away the nonexistent debris from the frames. The gallery is empty this time of day but you’ll take an easy day for the pay.

Magnolia sweeps out in her triangular glasses and droopy hair bow. Her spiralled hair is varying shades of blonde, ginger, and red. Her white shirt is unbuttoned and belted over a dress made from patchwork of paisley, polka dots, and houndstooth. She clomps through on thick square toed heels.

“I’ve a meeting with the council. We’ve no shows for the night but no harm in staying open for curious couples coming from across the street.” She says. “You must make some tags for the auction tomorrow.”

“Yes, Magnolia,” you say. The tags are done already. “Have a good night.”

“With council? Doubt it. They only want to cut funding.” She tuts and swings open the door. “One day I might cut them.”

She strolls off, going one way only to double back as she realises her mistake. She is both fearsome and a bit oblivious to the world around her. You admire her boldness, bordering on bravery if she had any ounce of self-awareness.

You put down the duster and go back to pacing. You look down at your phone and grow bored of merging different items to meet impossible orders. These games are just a ploy to make you watch ads for scams.

You wade through the drone of the plucky music, set no higher than the lowest setting. It’s hardly better than silence. The sky tints outside and you notice the couples filing into the restaurant across the street and the larger groups of women and men head further down the strip.

You stop at the rear wall and stare at the cluster of geometric shapes called ‘Mother Mary’. It’s an acquired taste. Cliche. You’ve seen several pieces like it claiming religious epiphany in randomly placed items. You love art but sometimes you don’t get it.

The door opens and closes. At first, you want to think you imagined it. You’re so close to the end. You just want to go home and get off your feet.

You turn to face the very real visitor. You nearly exclaim at your recognition. It’s the man. The man whose identity you’ve stolen. No, you only borrowed it. And you changed his name. He’s Jonathan not Thomas.

Be cool. It might not even be him. It might be your guilt clouding your vision. You could have fallen asleep on your feet even. Maybe it’s a tedium-fueled hallucination.

“Uh, hello, sir. How are you tonight?” You ask, hiding your hands behind your back, clutching tight.

“Very well, and you?” He asks, his voice dulcet but firm.

“Fine, fine. Um. Are you looking to browse or buy?” You prompt.

“Perhaps a bit of both.” He answers as his lips curve slightly.

“Oh, of course. I can walk you around or you’re free to look on your own.” You say.

“I think I’ll take the latter. I’ve a particular thing in mind but I can’t quite put it to words as yet.” He says, his accent lilting soothingly.

“Alright, I’ll be here if you need anything.” You assure him.

You go behind the tall counter at the corner of the show room. You distract yourself with the hand-written notations on last week’s sales. There’s nothing to do with it but you would rather pretend than face reality. Apparently, that’s just who you are.

Besides, it’s not him. Is it? How could he be here? He lives in Egypt.

You close your eyes as you focus on keeping yourself from shaking. You feel a panic attack brewing. It’s not real, it’s not real. Just stop. Do your exercises. Name a fruit for each letter of the alphabet; Apricot, Banana, Clementine…

“Pardon,” the man’s tone breaks your trance and you look up at him, wide-eyed.

“Yes, sir, sorry. I was… adding something up in my head.” You lie, voice wobbling. “Is there something you need?”

“Well, I know galleries tend to have back stock. Perhaps some pieces on hold until next season.” He begins. “I was hoping for something… I’ll show you.”

He reaches to the front pocket of his jacket. He wears a fine dark blue suit. The same type as that picture. No, stop. Anyone can wear a suit.

“Perhaps you have something which would give a similar… emotion.” He turns his phone to you.

You cough and drop your shoulders. It’s over. It’s him. He’s figured you out but how? You chose someone all the way across the world!

“I…” you utter then snap your mouth shut and shrug. You search for words. “I’m… sorry.”

“What have you been telling them? Hm? All these people in the comments? ‘So cute’. ‘You look adorable’. Ahem, as they say, ‘you go, girl.’”

He puts the phone down and sets his hands next to it. He stares at the doctored image of the both of you. You cringe and cover your face. You heave. “I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m embarrassed. I shouldn’t have—”

“Embarrassed?” He echoes. “To be seen with me?”

You look up, hands caged over the bottom half of your face. You shake your head. “N-no, of course not. I l-l-lied. I made it all up and I… I used you.” You babble. “I was only trying– I was stupid.”

He hums and flicks his finger over his phone. Another of your pictures. You groan.

“Well, I can’t say I’m very upset, darling. Curious, more.” He drawls. “You see, the only affront I feel is that you hadn’t the grace to introduce yourself.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Well, surely, despite the alias you gave me, you know my name.”

You nod.

“And I know yours now.” He intones. “Though I’d have preferred to have it from your own lips.”

“I… I…” You lower your hands, clasping them over your chest. “I was trying to impress my friends, that’s all it was and…”

“And… so… you would never… consider me?” He wonders.

“What?”

He looks down and traces his finger around the phone before he presses against the screen and slowly drags the image to a new one. This one isn’t yours. You’ve never seen it before. It’s you. You’re in lingerie with a sultry look on your face, in one of the beds you saw on the hotel’s Insta page.

“You… you did that?” You gasp.

“I do think the real thing would put that false dream to shame,” he purrs as he looks up at you. “And I think you might like Egypt.”

“You… I… you don’t even know me.” You bluster.

Yet even as he roams the halls, putting out fires both literal and metaphorical, he cannot help but miss you. You would always greet him with a smile and a chipper "good morning, Mr. Pine!" And now that he's surrounded by people who are more reserved, who look at him with the expectation of being assigned more work, he finds himself in need of some sunshine and cheer. Someone with seemingly endless optimism even as they continually tripped over their own feet. Someone who, like him, took pride in their work, even if it was just sweeping and dusting.

As a servant comes looking for him, Jonathan tries to switch back into work mode.

"Mr. Pine, Angela is here with the latest fresh produce but she needs your signature," the servant explains.

Jonathan nods and heads towards the kitchens when he gets an idea. Perhaps Ms. Angela would be willing to deliver a small box of produce to your home. It might not be much, you might not even need it, but it might also help his mind settle a bit.

"Oh dear, aren't you supposed to be at work?" Mama asks for probably the thirtieth time this week.

Smiling softly, sadly, you show her the bruising on your rib cage. "I've been ordered to go on leave until I heal up," you explain again.

Mama pauses for a second. "Oh, yes, I remember now. I'm sorry, dear."

"It's okay, Mama," you nod. "It's hard to remember when I've gotten injured so many other times before."

She huffs. "Still, I should be more cognizant of these things. I don't know where my mind has been getting to since your Papa passed."

"Grief takes its toll, Mama," you reassure. "I'll be okay."

"Oh how I worry about you," she confesses. "I wish we could've set you up with a fine man who could take care of you. Someone who would make sure you never had to work so you wouldn't be at such risk of hurting yourself."

Mama's concerns are well meaning, you know. But it still hurts to think she doesn't want you working. That she's given up on you ever being less klutzy. Maybe that's why you latched onto Mr. Pine as strongly as you have. He works with you and, when you're not breaking things, he praises your work and dedication.

For now, though, you have more pressing concerns. You need to get to the grocery store but you're dreading the bus ride. You can't ask Mama to do it, obviously, and you're not sure your neighbors would be up for it. Papa was always the one people gravitated towards and were willing to help. Without him in your lives, the people didn't stick around so long, didn't offer assistance as much. Especially as you were so caught up in your work and taking care of Mama, it didn't give you much time to socialize, further pushing away old acquaintances.

A knock at your door startles you from your thoughts and you have to catch yourself before hurting your ribs again.

"Just a minute," you call out. Your mind runs through all the possibilities of who could be at the door. A package Mama forgot she ordered? A home inspection you'd forgotten to add to the calendar? An eviction notice you because of something you didn't realize you or Mama did?

You open the door and quickly recognize the woman in the doorway holding a box.

"Ms. Angela? What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Pine asked me to make a special delivery," she shrugs. "It's all bought and paid for, but I was told you've got some broken ribs so it's on me to bring into the kitchen. If you'll let me."

"Oh, of course!" you sniffle, trying to carefully get out of her way. "I'm so sorry about the state of the place. I wasn't expecting anyone."

"I understand," Ms. Angela assures. "Just lead the way."

"Oh, what's this?" Mama gasps. "I didn't know we were expecting visitors. Dear, why are making her carry that heavy box? That's not polite for a hostess. Oh, I need to get the tea on!"

"Mama, why don't you go freshen up while I get the tea started for Ms. Angela?" you suggest.

"Ah yes, thank you Dear! Lovely to meet you Angela, I hope you like lemon tarts! I just made some the other day."

"I'm sure I will, ma'am," Ms. Angela smiles and nods.

Mama walks away and you let out a small sigh of relief. "The kitchen is over this way. I can't thank you enough for this Ms. Angela!"

"Like I said, Pine asked and paid so I've got not problems dropping off some goods for you. It's mainly vegetables, I hope that's okay."

"It's more than okay! You've no idea how much stress you've saved me," you confess, a little teary eyed. "I'd give you a hug if I weren't worried about my ribs."

"Aww, don't worry about all that," she smiles. "Just do me a favor and let Pine know. I could tell him it was delivered, but I know it'll mean more coming from you." She gives you a wink as she sets down the box.

"I really should make sure express my gratitude," you nod. "That's the bare minimum of politeness, after all."

She smiles cryptically. "You know he ain't ever asked me to do this for other people."

Heat rushes to your face and you look away, embarrassed. "I guess he knows what a sad state we're in. He's such a kind, observant man."

"Just promise me you'll let him know. I gotta get back to the farm."

"I promise! And thank you again!"

Jonathan is in his office when his phone rings. His heart leaps when he sees it's you calling.

"Hello?" he answers.

"Mr. Pine," you sniffle and his heart drops. "Mr. Pine, I can't...I can't thank you enough."

Jonathan smiles, biting back a sigh of relief. "It's alright, Papillon. I'm just glad I wasn't overstepping."

"Not at all, Mr. Pine!" you're quick to reassure. "This should feed Mama and myself for at least a week!"

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiles. "And please, do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else."

"I...I'll try, Mr. Pine."

You hang up and Jonathan spends the rest of his day with a small smile on his face.

Previous -- Next

The breakroom was noisy, as it always was during the first morning break after the holidays. Each member of the staff was all too happy to talk about what they had done without being truly interested in what their coworkers were saying. As a matter of fact, it was only a competition to impress the others and make them believe they had an amazing life. 

You did not like to play that game. You had no social life whatsoever and you did not care one bit that everybody knew it, which is why you usually chose a chair in the corner, far away from those fake exchanges.

You inwardly rolled your eyes at them and opened the latest fantasy book you had purchased. Better use those fifteen minutes wisely. 

You were about to start when a shadow loomed over you. Hoping it was not one of those overly curious ones, you raised your head to greet the intruder. A light smile curled up your lips when you met the soft eyes of the new literature teacher, Jonathan Pine. 

“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to yours. 

“Of course.”

He sat down and let his head gently fall backwards against the wall. You took the time to admire his facial features. He was perfection in itself, a real Adonis and yet no one here had shown interest. Maybe it was because he is English, maybe it was because he was always elegantly dressed…although he had let go of the tie and suit for the day, choosing to wear a simple blue shirt and dark blue jeans. And yet, he could have been in rags but he exuded elegance and refinement. He was out of place between those idiots who thought they were above talking to him. 

Not that you had talked to him more but you at least took the time to say hello and asked if he was alright. You heart clenched when you thought about the time it took you to get included even if you did not really care. But Jonathan seemed to care a lot. He was willing to fit in and it seemed unfair to leave him out of everything. He was doing his best and the kids loved him. Come to think of it, that might be the real reason behind this jealousy. 

“Not easy being the new one here” You told him gently as you closed your book and let it rest on your lap. 

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open. He lifted his head and looked at you, as if he was wondering if you were really talking to him. 

“I guess it is not.” He answered with a tiny tired smiled on his face that made your heart clench. 

“They will come around, don’t worry.” You tried to comfort him. “It took me a while too.”

“Really?” He gazed into your eyes and you gulped, mesmerized for a second by the ocean blue color of his own eyes. This man held unknowingly some power over you, a fact that both scared and thrilled you. This was uncharted territory for you and it was exhilarating. 

“I guess they only need a little time to get familiar with Europeans.” He said jokingly, unaware of your inner turmoil. 

You blinked, waking from your daze and snorted at his words. “Because you still consider yourself European after the whole Brexit debacle?”

He raised his eyebrows and you comically put your hand over your mouth, inwardly berating yourself for offending him. His lips curved into a smile. 

“Well, we are still part of that continent. French people…why do you always have to hold grudges?”

“English people, why do you always want to be a part of something but reject everything from this something at the same time?” You answered in the same tone.

He laughed and the two of you exchanged a knowing grin. 

“How long have you been teaching here?” He asked. 

“Three years in this school but I have been teaching in the US for a little bit more than seven years. So, trust me when I say I know how hard it is to fit in. I used to get part time contracts only and to change schools a lot. Now, I can finally settle down. It’s…nice. What about you?”

“I was offered this permanent position last year but it is my first time here.” He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, it’s the first time I am teaching in high school altogether. I used to teach English literature at Cambridge.”

You let out a gasp. “Cambridge? What on earth made you decide to leave this prestigious place to come here?”

A sudden sad glint appeared in his eyes. “I needed a change of scenery. Matters of the heart are always complicated affairs.”

Your heart clenched at his words. Yes, matters of the heart were always very complicated. You knew a lot about it yourself. It was one of the reasons why you flew away from home all those years ago. You did not regret it all. And nobody was probably missing you anyways…

“I can assure you it did not involve a student though.” He added facetiously. 

You blinked at his words and gave him a fainted smile. It looked like he had sensed your sudden sadness and had wished to lighten the mood. You were the one who had brought on the subject but he was not blaming you. On the contrary, he was trying to make you feel better. It was not something that happened a lot. He seemed to be a man with a good heart and you felt the sudden urge to repay him somehow. He needed company and maybe that is what you needed too, somehow. 

“You know, there is a nice coffeehouse not very far from here. I often make a stop there on my way home. They have a wide range of good tea.”

“Offering to have a nice cup of tea?  You know your way to an English man’s heart, Darling.”

Your belly did a somersault at the term of endearment. You usually did not like the familiarity but from new teacher Jonathan Pine, it did not seem to bother you. 

“That’s just because I hate coffee.” You answered nonchalantly to give you some composure. “What do you think about it? Maybe we could go on Friday after work.”

He seemed to ponder your words and you realized you might have been a bit presumptuous. He may not need company that much. Not yours especially.

“But I can also give you the address if you want to go by yourself…or take someone else.”

Heat crept up your cheeks. Great, now you were babbling from embarrassment. 

“J’accepte avec grand plaisir. Mais c’est moi qui invite.” He replied smoothly in a perfect French with just that tiny bit of an English accent.  This man was definitely full of surprises. You nodded, speechless. 

The bell rang, waking you up from your daze. You grabbed your book and rose up from your seat. Jonathan followed your lead. You looked at each other.

“Well…see you on Friday, then. Three o’clock?”

“Three o’clock, it is.” He smiled warmly. “I cannot wait, Darling.”

Darling. There it was again; the somersault in your belly, the heat on your cheeks. This man was making you feel things you were not ready to feel, especially not in the breakroom of a high school. 

You smiled at him one last time before leaving the room in a hurry. You knew your coworkers were throwing suspicious glances at the two of you and it would not be long before you would be the main topic of their gossips. 

But you were also aware that Jonathan had probably stared at you until you had left the room and that made you feel all tingly. Maybe soon you would give those coworkers something to really gossip about. 

French Translation: It's my great pleasure to accept. But it's on me.

The lack of your presence in bed when Jonathan woke this morning was no cause for concern. In fact, hope bloomed in his heart that today would be the start of events taking a turn for the better.

It had been far too long since the two of you had one of those days.

He made quick work to pull a shirt over his head and run a hand through his hair, excited to fix you a decadent breakfast before he left for his shift at the hotel.

What was a cause for concern, however, was how he found you in the living room the moment he stepped out of your shared bedroom. Your mouth pressed into a grim line as you hung up the phone, a notepad and a pamphlet on the coffee table in front of you. The logo and the name on the front had his heart pounding away in his ears.

Dignitas

"Sweetheart." His throat closed up, almost unable to form any words. "We still have time. And there's no need to make a reservation, I don't think they stay occupied for long."

You gave him a somber smile at his dry attempt of a joke. "I…I know, babe. I know. I just…I wanna make sure of all the details so you don't have to worry as much after--"

"Y/N, stop." He crouched in front of you, tears welling in his eyes. It pained him beyond belief that you even had to think of details like this considering what you were already dealing with. The only thing that should be occupying your mind was building your strength. Hoping that whatever medication the doctors try out will finally start turning things around for the better.

But he also knew you were both steadily running out of time. And your words from around nine months ago began to echo in his mind, his heart feeling hollow at the memory.

We'll give it a year of our best effort. But if things don't look great at the end of it, I don't want to let this thing get the satisfaction of withering me into a shell of myself. I wanna go out on my own terms, while I'm still strong enough to make those choices.

"We still have time," he said again desperately. Three more months. You promised me at least that. "Maybe this round will have better results."

Your tearful expression nearly mirrored his perfectly, reaching over to frame his face in your comparatively smaller hands before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Jonathan, we have to come to terms with the possibility that things won't get better. That…there might be no beating this."

"Please no," he was barely able to choke out., fighting back the sobs that wracked his chest. "We've only just found each other, we haven't had enough time."

"I know, I know, sweetie. And it's not fair that we don't get to have more time." Hot tears began to stream down your face as your thumbs traced his features, and it broke his heart realizing what you were doing. You were memorizing his face. "But this is the hand we were dealt. And it's a shitty hand but there's no changing it."

He placed his hands over yours, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "All I ask is that we don't make any plans to go to Switzerland before the year's up," he murmured against your skin. "I want all the time I can get with you. I don't want to lose you a moment sooner than I absolutely have to."

When you nodded, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, he pulled you into his arms, laying your head on his shoulders as your body began to shake with your suppressed sobs. "I'm sorry," you told him, your words muffled by his shirt. "I love you."

"And I love you." He gently lifted you back onto the couch, making sure to take the pamphlet far away from you. "We'll revisit this together if the time comes. Until then I'm keeping this far away from you." He placed the offensive piece of paper into his back pocket before grabbing his phone and his keys before crouching down in front of you again. "Now…what would my beautiful fiance want for me to bring her home tonight?"

You gave him a smile that couldn't reach those somber eyes, and that cracked away at his heart even more. Those eyes that used to be so full of life, so excited to face the day ahead and go on new adventures hand in hand with him…now that light barely flickered, just enough to show that there was still someone in there. But whether they were fighting or simply waiting was anyone's guess. "Surprise me," was all you said.

The first thing he did when he got to the hotel was make a beeline for the back office facilities and put the Dignitas pamphlet through the shredder. He didn't even want to know that it was still in one piece, let alone within your reach, for at least the next three months.

He'd gone through the next nine hours essentially on autopilot, coordinating anything that the hotel guests may need, delegating where needed, and brushing off any advances from those that were far too forward by flashing a prop wedding band around his left ring finger and informing them that he was "a happily married man". It was a half-truth, but one he had every intention of turning into your reality before you decided that your time together had reached its end.

Jonathan would marry you. He'd marry you tomorrow in the chapel down the block if you were up to it.

He only began to perk up once he'd changed out of his hotel suit and was on his way back to you, stopping by at the new coffeeshop that had just opened a few doors down. Maybe he could bring you home a nice little pastry. Or a sweet drink.

The barista gave him a bright smile as he walked in, the establishment only housing two other patrons, one that was sketching away on a pad, and the other that had their nose buried in a giant tome of a book. "Hi there! I'm Eva, what can I get started for you?"

"Oh erm…I'm not really all that adept when it comes to ordering these kinds of drinks, that's usually my partner. What would you recommend?"

"I see…how about this, then, Mister…?"

"Pine."

"Right then. Mr Pine…why don't you tell me about your partner and I'll make something that I think would suit both her and you?"

A pressure seemed to lift from his shoulders. This…this I can do. "For one, she loves books. Completely loses herself in a good story. She used to love spending the day outdoors just happily flipping away at the pages of her latest paperback or breezing through her Kindle."

"Used to?" the girl caught on quick. "What happened?"

His shoulders slumped again, the weight on them returning. "She got sick. And it spread faster than we could get a handle on it." His heart constricted in his chest as he found the words tumbling out without much difficulty. "She has three months."

Eva became misty eyed over his story, and seeing how it was tearing him apart to even talk about what was in your tragically near future. "I'm so sorry," she said softly before turning to face the bar, fixing together two drinks that seemed to have a generous helping of a milk and honey mixture. Then after she placed the drinks on the counter, she placed a rather delectable looking slice of apple pie in a box. "Best with a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream," she said while she rung up his bill. "She'll get much better after a really good dessert."

Jonathan gave her a sad smile as he paid his bill, brushing off her comment about getting better. The sentiment was sweet, but sadly he knew better.

The chances that there would be a light at the end of this tunnel…were slim to none.

He found you sitting at the exact same spot where he left you when he walked through the doors of your home. You perked up a touch when you looked up at him, seeing the drinks and the bags in his hands. And then you sniffed the air. "Apple pie?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, placing a kiss to the tip of your nose before placing the box down, as well as a pint of vanilla ice cream next to it. "That nose of yours is truly a marvel."

You took your drink from him with both hands, taking another sniff. "Smells like honey. Expensive honey."

He nodded. "It looked like honey, but I didn't ask what it was." You tapped your cup to his before you both took a sip, the rich and creamy sweetness coating your tongues upon contact.

It had to have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn you became a touch less pale after a few sips. Even more so when you took a bite of the apple pie with the ice cream, letting out a soft moan at the taste of the decadent buttery crust and the perfectly thick apple filling. "You really know how to spoil a girl, Mr Pine."

He reached over, swiping his thumb at the corner of your mouth as he gave you a bittersweet smile. "Anything for the future Mrs Pine."

You woke the next morning with a strange newfound strength. A kind that you hadn't felt since getting that curse of a diagnosis. Maybe even before then.

You tentatively stood up from the bed, shocked to your core to find that no part of you felt weak or straining. Rather your muscles simply just felt the way they did when you had spent far too long being sedentary, and they itched to be used again, wanting more than anything to go on a jog. Or perhaps show up to a dance class.

What had you even more shocked was discovering you could stretch without your insides threatening to make you double over in pain. You didn't just not feel weak, you felt strong. Brimming with energy that begged to be expended.

The sound of the shower had you deciding in no time just how you wanted to spend this newfound strength. You made quick, fumbling work to divest yourself of your sweats before joining your fiance in the shower.

"What are you up to, sweetheart?" You could practically hear how he smirked as he asked you.

Instead of answering him, you stepped closer behind him, taking a prolonged moment to appreciate how the hot water droplets traveled down his perfectly sculpted back muscles. You wrapped your arms around his midsection, your hands roaming the well-cut defined lines of his abdomen before traveling up to roam his chest.

"You're playing quite the dangerous game, my love," he rasped, placing his hands over yours. His muscles shivered, a shaky breath escaping him at your touch. When you pressed your lips to his back, softly humming against his skin, that seemed to break him, your fiance letting out a guttural groan before turning to face you. "My sweet Y/N, if you keep this up I may not be able to control myself."

You threw your arms around his neck, his hand instinctively splaying over your back as you rose to your tiptoes to pull him into an impassioned kiss. "I woke up today feeling good. Really good. Best I've felt in a while," you told him, moaning into his mouth when he pulled you even closer before kissing you again, his hand moving lower to grasp your thigh before hooking your leg over his hip. "And all I can think of right now is how to feel…even better."

Your hand moved down, softly caressing his chest and abdominal muscles again before moving even lower, your fingers tentatively wrapping around his hardening length. There was a thrill that shot through you, seeing how your touch affected him, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure washed over him. He moaned your name, moving to press you against the wall. "Hold on to me, sweetheart."

You bit your lip as you followed his instructions, holding on to his water-slickened shoulders while he adjusted his hold on you. He lined your hips together before reaching between you and positioned the tip of his length at your entrance, his shuddering exhale warming your face as he moved it up and down your slick folds.

"If you start feeling faint, you need to tell me right away, am I clear, Y/N?" You managed to nod before you threw your head back, arching into him when he started to enter you in shallow thrusts, each taking him in deeper and deeper. Once he bottomed out he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out an obscene moan. "Fuck, sweetheart you feel divine." He kissed along your collarbone, nipping and sucking a bruise onto the base of your throat. "It's been too long, my love, I don't think--"

You knew exactly what he meant. "I know, I know--Oh f-fuck!" Your joint moans filled the bathroom as his fingers found your clit and started rubbing in tight circles. It was like your entire body came alive like a live wire as your orgasm washed over you, your walls clenching and milking his cock as he filled you with his release.

His thrusts slowed, and he pressed his forehead to your temple, kissing your cheek. "I love you so much."

It warmed your heart how gently he handled you afterwards, finishing up your now joint shower and wrapping a towel around you before stepping out of the bathroom hand in hand.

Once he was dressed for work he pulled you into his arms one more time, kissing your temple before whispering in your ear, "That was an incredible start to the day, sweetheart. I'll see you tonight."

Jonathan couldn't seem to wipe off the smile that spread across his face through the first hours of his shift, his mind constantly drifting back to his time in the shower with you. To say that it caught him by surprise would be an understatement, but the surprise was more than welcome. The last few months, you could barely stand up and walk to the other side of the apartment without getting winded. And as far as he was concerned, the newfound strength was the best sign he could ask for that maybe things were finally taking a turn for the better.

Even the sight of the hotel guests that were starkly different from what he had grown accustomed to didn't seem to faze him. He gave the creatures with the near translucent wings, the vibrantly colored skin, and pointed ears the same bright smile, looking them in the eye which seemed to brighten their days as well.

Most humans still couldn't seem to adjust to the new reality of living with creatures they'd only read about in books, but ever since a battle took place someplace in Northern Europe, certain barriers between worlds had been taken down and hoards of mystical creatures now roamed the Earth freely. Some had even begun to put up establishments of their own, the last time he checked the news on their acclimation.

So when a woman with lilac skin and pink freckles approached his desk, he initially thought nothing of it and proceeded with his usual script of welcoming them to the hotel. "I'm not here for a room, Mr. Pine. I'm here to speak with you," she spoke with a frantic tone. "My name is Astraea, I own the coffee shop you went to last night. I believe my employee Eva worked on your order?"

"Ah yes, I remember. I was going to drop by after my shift to thank you all, it seems whatever drink Eva made for us put my fiance in a much better state this morning." Once again he couldn't fight back the smile; it didn't take much for his mind to wander back to the shower.

"That's actually what I came to speak with you about," the coffeeshop owner told him in a near apologetic tone. "You see, Eva thinks herself something of a problem solver, so when someone walks into the cafe with teary eyes talking about how he's about to lose the love of his life, she just…can't help herself."

"I'm sorry I'm not quite sure I follow--"

"Your drinks, yours and your fiance's, contained ambrosia, Mr. Pine. And while its short term effects will very much work to your favor, it's your life in the long term that I came here to discuss with you. The drink not only cured your wife of her illness, but it granted both her and yourself a prolonged lifespan."

Jonathan couldn't find it in him to focus on most of what she was saying. All he heard was cured. "She's not sick anymore?" Just saying the words nearly brought him to his knees, he had to hold on to the hard surface of the front desk to keep himself upright.

"Well, yes. Both you and her are now immune to any earthly sickness, but it's the other part that I've come here to discuss with and apologize for. The drink has prolonged your lifespan by an…indefinite amount. Possibly centuries…at the least. We don't know yet how this drink is to affect someone with a mortal composition. Mr. Pine I sincerely apologize for my employee's rashness--"

"There's no need," he cut her off, raising his hand in front of him. "You've done nothing but give me the best possible news I could ever ask for. The woman I love is healed, and I get to quite possibly spend centuries with her." He held his hand out to shake, and he cafe owner seemed relieved with his reaction. "Thank you. Please send my regards to Eva as well."

It wasn't long after Astraea left the hotel that a new worry began to take root within Jonathan. How would you react to this turn of events? Of course, he was certain that you would be ecstatic over the news that the days of hospital visits and experimental treatments were over, but it was the latter half of this new reality that he was unsure of your reaction to.

The vision that greeted him when he opened the doors to your home had his heart soaring. Soft music was playing and you'd just emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream in hand. You were wearing a cotton dress instead of the sweats that had become a bit of a staple over the last few months.

And God you were radiant, the spark in your eyes that once lit up the entire room had returned full force. You looked over to him standing at the door, a wide grin stretching across your face and reaching your eyes as you put the bowl down on the coffee table and walked over to him. "Welcome home."

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you to him so he could capture your lips in a tender kiss. You sighed contentedly, pressing your body against him as his lips moved with yours, a muffled squeal escaping you when he lifted you with a single arm and carried you across the living room, sitting you down on the couch. "I need to talk to you about something, Y/N."

"Uh-oh," you blurted out. "No good conversation ever started with that." You turned your attention to the flowers in his hand. "Jonathan, what's wrong?"

He took your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before pressing a much longer kiss on your engagement ring. "Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. Well…hopefully after this conversation that will still be the case but if it isn't then I'm sure we'll find a way--"

"What happened?" Your question cut him off. "Did my doctor go to see you? Ohh God it's bad, isn't it? That explains the flowers and the--"

"Y/N, slow down." He placed the small bouquet down so he could frame your face, the rest of your words muffled by his kiss. "It's nothing bad, I promise you that much. It's just…" He let out a sigh, resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to explain this without looking like he grew a second head. "You know those reports we've been seeing on TV? With the barriers between worlds coming down and all these new kinds of people settling down and setting up shop around us?"

You nodded your answer and listened as he recounted his conversation with the coffeeshop owner Astraea. About how the drink he brought home last night might have just brought about the miracle you'd been hoping for for the last year of your life.

"Are…are you telling me I'm not sick anymore?" the words came out of you in a heavy exhale, as if they tasted foreign on your tongue. "No more doctors, no more needles, no more ingesting God knows what in the name of an experimental drug for a trial headed by a doctor with a dream?"

This time all he could do was nod, tears in his eyes as he pulled you into his arms and lifted you up, your feet dangling inches off the floor. "No more, sweetheart. It's over, the nightmare's over."

"What did she put in that drink anyway?"

He took another breath before answering you. "Ambrosia."

Jonathan could practically see the wheels turning in your head, recalling the countless books you've read and your knowledge of mythology pieced together from both textbooks and novels. "The Olympians consumed that for immortality…" You looked up at him with panicked, and yet curious, eyes. "What happens to us?"

"I don't have the answer to that, my love," he said truthfully. "Astraea's best guess is that it prolonged our lifespans by a few centuries…at the least. I'm so sorry if I knew--"

"Hang on." You placed a finger over his lips, putting a stop to the rest of his apology. "What're you sorry for? I told you way before this nightmare began that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jonathan Pine. And last night, I thought that that was just three months." Tears welled in your eyes as a face-splitting grin lit up your face. "Now you're telling me that that's…more. So much more. You have nothing to apologize for."

You grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled him to you for a kiss that he more than happily returned, his hands grabbing the backs of your thighs to lift you up again and back you up against the nearest wall. When he pulled away all the worry had gone from his face, replaced by a darkened, lustful gaze. He shifted his hold on you, a sinful groan slipping from his lips when your hips aligned and your core brushed against his hardening length over your layers of clothing.

"Ohh…" you sighed, your eyes fluttering closed as he rolled his hips again. And again. "Oh fuck, sweetie, what are you doing to me?"

"We get to spend the rest of our lives together," he said simply, carrying you into the bedroom and setting you down on the bed. "And I know exactly what we should do first." He rid you of your panties, throwing the little scrap of fabric haphazardly behind him somewhere, before running his hands up your thighs, inching the skirt of your dress upwards as he sank to his knees. "It's been too long since I've tasted you, my love."

Three months later

You walked through the doors of the Langham, taking a moment to pause in the opulence of the lobby before making your way further into the hotel to seek out the front desk. There was an extravagant bouquet on display right as you entered with vibrant colors. The lighting made them look almost like jewels.

It took you a minute, but you eventually found the front desk through the throng of people, mortal and mystical alike, that filled the lobby. The manager seemed to be fending off the attentions of one of the guests, her tits practically spilling out of her two sizes too small bathing suit.

"It seems you've had a bit too much to drink, Mrs Davies. Perhaps it would be best for security to bring you up to your room."

The woman pouted as a six-foot-seven security personnel began to escort her towards the elevator. Meanwhile the manager locked eyes with you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, making him even more devilishly handsome if that was even possible, as his eyes greedily roamed your figure. Suddenly you were even more appreciative of the way you'd begun to fill your clothes again the last few months.

"May I help you, madam?"

You flashed him your brightest smile, fighting back a blush as he held your gaze. "Yes, I'd like a room for the night."

He didn't type anything down into the system. Instead he just grabbed a keycard from inside a drawer and made his way around the front desk, jerking his head towards the elevator. "Very well, then. Follow me." He led you to a private elevator to the top floor before walking down a long hall that only contained a handful of doors. "I hope this…will be to your liking," he said, his voice taking on a huskier tone as his breath hitched when you brushed past him as you walked through the doors.

Everything about the suite exuded luxury…with a touch of sensuality. There was a large heart-shaped box of truffles situated on the coffee table, a soft piano melody filled the space, and a trail of rose petals led to the open door of the bedroom, where even more rose petals laid atop the sheets in the shape of a heart.

"A honeymoon suite…" you said slowly, your breath hitching when you felt Jonathan's hands on your waist, his breath warming your neck. "You really know how to spoil a girl, Mr. Pine."

You let out a squeal as he turned you to face him, your faces now mere inches apart. "Only the best for you, Mrs. Pine."

A/N: Okay, so I stitched together two requests back when I was planning out the stories for the 500 follower celebration, but I can't for the life of me find the first request that covered the bit about Reader being sick 🙃 Anyways, I'm so happy to finish this one and cross out another request! Now I'm off to jump straight into the next, which is a fluffy lil comfort piece with our favorite god 🥹👀