“My hand is cold. Unless we find somewhere to stop soon, it’s going up your back.” / maeve & olly
“Oh god, no, no, no, no! Sam, Nate, oh god, for the love of everything, where’s the hotel?” Olly said panicking, as he immediately tried to lean as far away from Maeve as possible in the back of the car. Nathan was up front driving, Samuel was being the navigator, but not a very reliable one, they were finding out. They were meant to have been at the hotel nearly an hour ago, and yet they were still driving past empty fields, full of snow. Olly was usually pretty good at dealing with the cold, but if it was one thing he hated, it was the threat of icy fingers up his back.
“She’s really not kidding!”
He would’ve begged for them to turn the heat on, but as this was the cheapest rental car they could hire, of course it had broken about half an hour into the trip.
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[text]: So….how many dogs do you own exactly? Just asking for research purposes. / [text]: so yeah I may have stole your dog while I was drunk but that doesn’t mean I’m not a nice girl. Your dog loves me. We bonded. / Shan & Woojin
Shan→Woojin: So... how many dogs do you own exactly? Just asking for research purposes.
Woojin→Shan: What sort of research is this? Are you plotting my murder? A robbery? Identity theft?
Shan→Woojin: so yeah I may have stole your dog while I was drunk but that doesn’t mean I’m not a nice girl. Your dog loves me. We bonded.
Woojin→Shan: If my dog isn’t back at my apartment within the next hour, I’m calling the cops. I’m being generous because of hangover time.
Woojin→Shan: Bring me back my baby, bitch.
“I made your favourite.” / “Can I kiss you?” / “I think you’re beautiful.” / “I want you to be happy.” / Kris & Hope
“I made your favourite.”
Hope slipped her heels off and got into her slippers, and she heard her husband call out from the kitchen and she smiled so huge her face felt like it might split in half.
‘Her favourite’ was pizza and a boozy night in front of the TV. Nothing something most people would say was their favourite or think was romantic. But spending the night yelling drunken warnings at horror movie characters, eating pizza with her husband was her favourite way to end her week.
She had asked him over because she had missed him. Missed talking to him about her day, no matter how small and inconsequential it was. She missed him talking about his crappy days and his good days. Missed fixing him dinner and having wine together.
“Can I kiss you?” His question felt both like sweet relief, and the pain of fingers against a too fresh bruise. She nodded before she could begin to think better. That they shouldn’t. That there were reasons that they’d divorced.
But she didn’t think those things. She just thought that he looked so nice and warm right now. He looked like he always did, but she thought he looked like he still loved her. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the missing him so hard she couldn’t breathe properly. But, there, in the backroom of her little inconsequential bookshop, in her little life, she felt his lips on hers, and the possibility of starting them over again.
They pulled apart, his hand against her jaw, foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling.
It was then she noticed that she was crying again. Hot salty tears slipping down her cheeks.
She jerked away from Kris in that moment, breaking the connection.
“I shouldn’t.... I shouldn’t have asked you here,” she spoke rapidly, wiping at her cheeks. “This was a mistake,” the words left her mouth before she could stop them, but now she didn’t care. She didn’t need to see how badly this all hurt.
“Please leave, I... I need to be alone,”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
It had been a rough day. She tried to not let other people’s comments weigh on her mind, but like. Fuck people, alright?
Hope had taken scissors to her hair over the weekend to give herself a more tomboyish look, even with her dresses. And, like, so what if people said that it was ugly, or uneven. Whatever, that’s the look. She didn’t want to look remotely approachable.
But still.
She had her pride.
So when Kris had said those words to her, she thought it was a stupid joke, until she could see it on his face he wasn’t fucking around.
“Thanks,” she replied, ducking her head and brushing her bangs out of her face, trying to hide the flush that spread across her cheeks.
“I want you to be happy.”
“Fuck you!” Hope screamed into her empty bookstore, recalling the words Kris had said to her.
He wanted her to be happy, and clearly that wasn’t him anymore.
He wasn’t wrong. But that had only been because of him keeping things from her and saying awful things, untrue things about her and Finn.
Oh god. How was she meant to get through all this on her own? How could she tell her mom? How could she tell Finn? How could she explain to every person in town that her and Kris were getting a divorce?
