#runawayolives

Y/N, after listening to the reading of the will beside her husband, had decided to show a strong front for the sake of their sanity. Arthur was counting on taking his father’s seat in parliament, going back to the home they had made on their own and starting with kids (more for the entertainment he found in outspoken children than the idea of heirs), but that had been completely shattered when Benjamin had shackled both sons together, intertwining Arthur and Edward for the foreseeable future. Y/N had decided to take the radical change with as much grace as she could muster, but it was true that some days were harder than others. Luckily for her, today she had woken up in good spirits, counterpointing her husband's outbursts on the other side of the building. 

Sitting on a chaise lounge with knitting needles in her hands, she had been working on a small blanket for Anne’s baby, whose existence had been known a few weeks prior. The white wool was a perfect color for the child, but the piece kept wrapping into itself, making her somewhat frustrated at the shape it was taking. While she was stretching the knit, Anne barged into the room, closing the door as quickly as possible. Both women looked at each other, the older one shaking her head and the younger smiling softly. 

“I swear he has become worse as time passes.” Anne moved away from the door, walking to sit on the other side of the chaise. “How have you been doing this for five years?” Y/N left the knit on her lap, shifting to face her sister by law and her closest friend in Iveagh.

“This has just started, London has been completely different.” Anne scrunched her face, confusion evident in her pale features.

“He is the same as he was before you left, but somehow worse.” Y/N shrugged, not fully knowing what to say.

“I mean- We had a low-stress lifestyle in London, his only possible chance to anger was cricket or the result of the horse races. Now he feels suffocated, none of you have gotten out of the will what you expected.” She picked up a small piece of lint from her skirt, black thread that was possibly his. “And now the campaign isn’t going as he expected, so this is how he is externalising it.” Anne looked at her with a bewildered look. “I will talk to him.” 

“Honestly, the Guinness name is only alive because of the two of us. Leave it to the three of them, with Rafferty, to destroy the family.” Y/N picked up her knitting again, starting to twist the yarn in the familiar fashion her mother had taught her.

Comfortable silence engulfed them, Anne taking out of her small pouch a book of prayers that she had gotten from the church. Not long had passed before a sound of something coming into impact with a wall made both women look up from their distractions. They looked at each other and sighed. Footsteps that were moving at a quick pace became louder by the second, the owner of such movements clearly running down the hallway. 

Edward stormed into the room, looking at both women and then focusing on her brother’s wife. “He has lost all control.” Closing the door behind him and standing in front of the woman, he crouched down to meet her gaze. “Between the election and the brewery, he has lost it, Y/N, I swear.”

Y/N looked at Edward, knowing what he was asking of her. “You want me to go?” He nodded solemnly. “Where is he?”

“In dad’s office.”

Standing decisively, Y/N left the baby blanket on the coffee table beside the chaise, walking to grab the door. Once her hand was touching the handle, she turned to both siblings. “If we don’t show up for supper, don’t expect us.” She smiled one last time and swiftly moved to where the sounds of crashes were coming from. 

On her way there, she encountered one of the maids walking away from the office, and she gently stopped her. “Mary, how is he?”

Big brown eyes met hers, doe-like with shock coating them. “He demanded I leave the room. I have never seen him this angry.” Nodding, she gently thanked Mary and left her to keep walking towards her objective. 

The tall mahogany door was closed, but in its state it couldn’t stop the sounds that were coming from the room. She wondered if she should knock, but she quickly got rid of that thought – what help would that be? Opening the door, she was met with her husband’s back, shoulders pulled back and his upper body moving to his deep ragged breaths. 

“I said to get out.” His tone had progressively gotten louder with every word he said, ending the sentence with a shout. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and sat on one of the chairs near the entrance, beside the world globe that showed perfectly New York and Dublin. “It’s only me, Arthur.” Recognising her voice, the man turned around to face her. 

“Oh.” He walked tentatively closer to her while he was visibly trying to calm down. Finally nearing her, he spoke again. “We live surrounded by idiots.” 

Usually, when Arthur would speak like this of his family, Y/N would first negate that thought, pointing out the virtues of his siblings, but this time, something told her that that wasn’t the subject of importance. Noticing the poster split in half, she stood to walk to it, passing Arthur in the process. 

“Why do you have an Abe Lincoln propaganda poster on the floor?” Even if that had been one object of his ire, the fact that his wife had thought the same exact thing made Arthur smile gently. “It's not Lincoln.” Moving her head to the side to get a better view, she snickered, “It’s you?”

She turned only her head to look at him, a soft laugh leaving her mouth. He walked forwards to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist and leaning his head on her shoulder. “My thoughts exactly.” Y/N responded by putting her hands over his, which were placed on her lower stomach. “This Byron bastard is not as competent as he sold himself to be.”

“Well, I have eyes that work and I think I know the basics for a good campaign poster, we will fix that eventually.” She was about to move to reach for the discarded piece of paper, but her husband’s tightening grip stopped her movements. “I only want to get it, love.” 

“Leave it there, it doesn’t deserve your attention.” Y/N felt his lips move against her shoulder ,muting slightly the sound of his voice. “But I do.” 

“Do you?” She felt his nose and moustache tickling her neck, the result of him pressing her face deeper against her skin. 

“Don’t be like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Mean.” She shifted in his arms, moving completely to face him. Arthur moved to place his head where it was, but Y/N held him away from her by his shoulders.

“Mean is what you have been to everyone in this house.” Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes. “You have made the atmosphere stiff and unwelcoming for your siblings and our staff.” He shrugged her off him to go and sit on the loveseat near the table with the bottle of whisky. Once he was sat, he patted the space beside him, signaling that he wanted her to join him. 

She crossed her arms, unknowingly emphasising her bust more, which made Arthur smile at her attempt to be imposing. Taking a deep breath and letting a small smile reach her lips, she moved forwards to join him. Immediately after she sat down, Arthur was already moving to place his head on her lap, using her legs and her skirts as a cushion. Making himself comfortable, Y/N thought of the similarities between Arthur and a cat, but didn’t bother vocalising them. Once he had stopped moving his head to find the perfect spot, she placed her hand in his hair, playing with the brown curls that had already broken from their brushed state. 

“I miss home.” 

“You are home.” Arthur moved once again, this time to look into her eyes.

“I mean our home, the house we bought and put so much time into it for it to be ours.” He grabbed her hand to play with her fingers. “Every single time I wake up in the mornings, I can’t stop thinking about this not being what I promised you.” He kissed her knuckles. “I told you that we were going to leave Dublin, that we would live in London, that we would travel the world before we settled down to have kids.” He grabbed her other hand and shifted again to his side, so that she had her arms wrapped around him. “I feel like I have trapped you. I know I have trapped you. And I always think I should send you home, where you belong, but then I realize that that would take me away from you, and I selfishly make you stay with me.”

“In the good and in the bad, Arthur.” Now he laid perfectly still. “That’s what I promised you, darling. In the good and in the bad.” She took back one of her hands to gently stroke his face, just like her mother would do to her when she was in distress. “Even if I wanted to go back to London, which, surprisingly, I don’t, I would not leave you here. Arthur, we are a team, and we stick together.”

Her husband started absentmindedly playing with the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Now you are just being foolish.” 

“I don’t. Look at you, gentle, patient, kind. And here I am, crashing over a harp logo and a campaign poster.” She stopped her stroking, which made him lowly whimper. 

“I am proud, stubborn and unsubmissive.”

“You are beautiful, smart and interesting.”

“You are funny, loving and fair.” This made Arthur shift to look at her, the small wrinkle between his brows making itself visible. “Why do you think my dowry was so large?” 

“I don’t remember your dowry. I was too focused on other things.” His suggestive smile made her laugh. 

“Well, to remind you, my father was desperate to marry me off. I had had four courtships before you.” The frown came back to his features.

“I don’t know how that is supposed to make me feel better.”

“What I’m trying to say, you jealous man, is that no one wanted to marry me, and father was growing desperate.” His arched brow showed that he was still having a hard time seeing what she was trying to say. “You, Arthur Guinness, showed up at my father’s home and asked for my hand. Knowing that I talk back, I stand my ground and that I was never going to yield to you.” 

“Anyone with a brain would have married you.” 

“Evidently not. And yet you did. And you have given me the happiest six years of my life.” He finally sat back, both of their faces to the same level, and coming impossibly close to the other. “So what if we’ve had a small setback? So what if we have to start all over again in Dublin? We will do it together, like we have always done.”

“I love you.”

“I love you most, Arthur Guinness.” The kiss was unlike the ones they were used to giving each other, passionate with crashing teeth and world-shattering. This one was soft, tentative, as if they were doing it for the first time again. And somewhat, they were. 

Considering you were in your 20s, “the best time of your life”, you were disappointed. Instead of going to one of the famous clubs that your friends liked to go to on Friday nights, you were in your dorm room, your phone face up, waiting for some kind of text. Better said, a particular text. It was sad to think about how you were taking the opportunity of him being drunk because maybe he would text you. You were waiting for some badly spelled text, that somehow begged for you to take him back, to forgive him for what he had done. 

You met the F1 star in an interesting way. You lived in Italy, this was your third year. You had been accepted into a university in Rome, on full scholarship, so you took the opportunity, and you found yourself living in Rome, as a college student that barely got by with Italian. The good thing was that the University put you in the same room as a native girl, María, who was nice and patient enough to teach you the new language. it didn’t take you long to speak Italian, fluently, thanks to your friend. María was actually the one responsible for you meeting Max. She had dragged you to an F1 race, insisting that you would like it and that the racers were bellissimo. You went with semi-interest, but María had gotten tickets thanks to her dad, who had some contacts and pulled some strings for the two of you to go. You got good seats, and even if you hadn’t been the biggest fan of fast cars, you had to admit it was captivating, to see the vehicles going at crazy speeds. María, thanks to the combination of some membership pass and her dad, had managed to be invited to an after-party organized by Red Bull. Surprisingly, you were interested in going. Classes had been a true pain the whole month, and you were nervous about a presentation you had to do two days ago, so free booze was a good way to get your mind off things. 

Two Red Bull racers had gotten Podium positions, so the party was very lively. You couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable the vent would’ve been if they hadn’t won, and you kept pondering on that while María was talking to some guy she knew from events like this. Your friend had made you promise that you wouldn’t think about school and loosen up a little. Once you finished your drink, you went to the bar and get another one. While waiting, making sure your eyes never left the waiter making your drink, a  taller figure stood behind you.

“Hello! Have we met?” You turned around, finding a fairly attractive guy. The bartender set you the drink, and you thanked him. You looked again at the guy, confused by his sudden interruption of your mindless thoughts.

“I don’t think so.” 

“I’m Charles.” He had an interesting accent, one you couldn’t pinpoint, but you could tell he wasn’t a native English speaker. You weren’t surprised about that. Everyone in Europe had a second language, at least, and English was the most common one to have.

“Y/N.” Charles took the seat beside you, signaling the bartender to come back for another drink.

“Are you related to any of the racers?”

“No, I’m here with a friend, she had passed.” Charles nodded and told the man what drink he wanted.

“Cool. You don’t sound Italian.”

“No, I’m here for college.” He gave you an impressed look.

“Wow, what are you studying?” You told him about your classes, and how you got the scholarship. After some time of him avoiding your questions about his job, another man came to the pair of you. 

“Charles, what is taking you so long?” This man you did recognize, no introduction needed. Max Verstappen had just approached you, and referred to your conversation companion by his first name, meaning they knew each other. Verstappen, once he noticed you, didn’t shift his gaze from your face. “Max Verstappen.” He introduced himself in a cocky way, that normally would’ve been a turn-off for you, but you already had some drinks in you, so you let it pass.

“Max, this is my friend, Y/N.” You looked at Charles surprised, not expecting him to refer to you as his friend. “She’s really cool.” You waved at Max and gave him a smile. 

“Nice to meet you.” You shook hands, and that for a second threw you off, used to kiss people as a hello. “What did you think of the race? Charles, at some point, left to be with the rest of the group he came with. You and Max spoke until maría came to get you, saying that some annoying guy was not getting the signals. You excused yourself from Max and left with your friend. Once outside, María asked for every detail, after she said she had seen you also with Charles Leclerc. 

Once back in your dorm, when María was already knocked out cold, your phone lit up.

Thinking back, it was weird to see how everything has changed. You were now in your fourth year in university and were crying for the one and only Max Verstappen. You weren’t crying right now, you were too drained, but it was what you were doing for the last week. After the night at the party, and his texts, you had met up several times, becoming closer, until you asked him out on a date date, as you had phrased it. 

It had been a great year, you and Max both putting a lot of effort into the relationship, considering you were busy studying, and he was racing all over the glove. it had worked very well, so far. Whenever he was free and you had school, he would come to Italy and spend time with you whenever you were free. If you both had a vacation, he would fly you to Monaco, where he lived during the off-season. Being long-distance was good for the two of you. You could focus on your career, and he could focus on his and would have time to text and videocall at certain hours. 

María had left to spend the night with her partner, who she had met during a college party in someone’s big ass house. They were cute together, and you couldn’t be more grateful for Cameron, considering they were the reason you were alone in your room. 

Your breakup had been nasty, to say the least. During the Brazilin Grand Prix, some interesting pictures had been trending on Twitter and Instagram. You had met Kelly Piquet before, and you had never thought what happened was going to happen. When the first pictures of them showed up, you dismissed them after seeing them, not thinking anything of them at a party in Brazil. She was almost ten years his senior, a mother, and the ex of another F1 driver. Why would you suspect anything from it? The first round of pictures of them together, you ignored, the second one was impossible to. 

The pictures were a total of five, and it seemed as if they went in order. The first one was them together, facing the camera. Innocent, a picture of two friends. The second one that went viral, was of them in the background, talking to each other. Innocent, a picture of two friends. The third, was of Max’s arm going around her waist. Innocent? Fourth, her arms around his neck. Fifth, the two of them in what seemed like a heavy makeout session. Once you saw this one, you started calling Max, wanting some sort of explanation. Maybe they were photoshopped, or of two people that looked a lot like them. Maybe maybe maybe. These were your thoughts that Sunday morning, ready to defend him once he explained himself. During Sunday lunch with your friends, no one brought Max up, unusual, considering that after his races, he would somehow be mentioned. You could tell they knew, you knew they knew. But you had good friends, who were able to read the room and know that now wasn’t the moment. 

You had called Max a total of fifteen times and decided to let him call you, knowing that maybe you seemed hysterical. You were being hysterical, because they were fake, 100%. Right?

You never got a call from Max that Sunday. Your dd did, and that one was enlightening.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, dad.”

“What have I always told you?”

“Education and career go first, boys second.” You didn’t have a perfect relationship with your dad, not many people did. But he had been very firm about this topic. Your dad knew the importance of your career and was very proud of every scholarship, and academic win you had. He didn’t tell you this, but your mom would text you to tell you. He was very proud once you told him about your relationship dynamic with Max. He was proud you hadn’t dropped everything you had worked for for a race car driver that could promise you the world. And looking back, you had made a splendid choice. 

“I know it hurts right now, but this just means he wasn’t the one. Stay strong honey, you can do this.” The conversation ended soon after, and it left you looking out the window of your dorm. 

Charles Daniel and Pierre had texted you, but you didn’t feel like reading what they had to say, whatever they had to say. You just wanted Max to tell you it was all a confusion, some hateful fan that wanted to hurt you. But him taking so long had started to be suspicious, and at the end of that Sunday, you decided to not think too much into it, maybe it was meant to be.

Tuesday morning, while you were completing some assignments during your free period, you got a call. Not from who you now thought of as your ex, but his best friend. 

“Daniel.” 

“Y/N.”

“What’s up?” You wanted to act nonchalant as if you hadn’t cried whenever you weren’t drowning in work and coffee. 

“I know you’ve seen the pictures.” You looked into your document, focusing on the small letters that just looked like squiggly lines if you concentrated enough.

“I have.” 

“Have you spoken to Max?”

“I haven’t.” You heard him sigh on the other side, but couldn’t say if he was doing it for you or him. 

“How’re you doing? How’re you feeling?”

“Well, I was sad at the beginning. Now I’m just humiliated and angry, weirdly, I feel empty.” You played with the thread of your sweater. “Everyone has seen those pictures, and I’m now the latest gossip on campus. It’s been a week and they’re still talking about my boyfriend making out with a Brazilian model ten years his senior. I’m angry because he hasn’t contacted me at all, and has ignored my calls. At least he could face me, tell me the truth, give me closure and let me move on.” You could feel the hot angry tears well up in your eyes. “I want him to call me, tell me he never loved me, so that I can forget him and everything related to him.” 

“Charles has been worried about you, me, and Pierre too.” You had developed a very close friendship with the trio. You had different relationships with each, but they were all close nonetheless. 

“I want him to make me forget him. I want to never feel related to anything F1, ever again.” Daniel’s breath hitched.

“I understand how you feel, but how can you do this radical cut?” 

“You do not understand how I feel. You will never understand how I feel. And losing this relationship won’t be a loss.” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m pretty sure I am.” 

“What about Charles, Pierre, and I?”

“Did you tell me anything when you suspected something from Max?” 

“Y/N.” You could tell he was close to crying, but you couldn’t care less, considering you could feel your tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“Did you?”

“We didn’t want to interfere with your relationship.”

“Then I guess I cannot keep up this friendship. You choose sides, Daniel, even if you now think he’s the asshole or whatever, you choose sides the moment you ignored the first sign.” 

“Y/N.”

“Leave me alone.” You hung up after finishing your sentence, soon feeling bad, thinking you had been a bit overboard.

Soon, Charles’ contact came up on your screen, and you accepted it. Charles was on the phone with you for a total of an hour and a half, listening to you, while trying not to cry himself. He had to wipe his tears away several times, not understanding how a heart could break this way. While hearing you, the Monaguesque had plotted the Red Bull driver’s death at least ten times, slowly hating him more and more as the call progressed. 

When the pictures had first reached the internet, once the trio knew, they went to get an explanation from Max. The Dutchman, who had just woken up to an empty bed (that was not how it was when he went to sleep), was slowly coming to terms with what had happened. He initially put the blame on the person taking the pictures, saying it was a violation of his privacy and that he was going to sue. Pierre was about to rip his hair out when he heard that from their friend. Max, after seeing that his friends still expected accountability for him, decided to inform them that he had never loved you, that you were just easy and quick entertainment. 

The three of them caught the lie very early on, knowing that the times he had come to the hotel, eyes shining and a dumb smile on his features weren’t a sign of lack of love. But Max was max, and if he wanted to take that route, then so be it. Charles and Daniel were already leaving the room, shoulders tense and trying to contain their anger. Pierre decided to have the last word.

“If she cuts ties with us because of your dumb mistake. I will never forgive you.” The blond slammed the door, and once outside, looked at his two other friends. “How could he say that? He always had a reserved seat for her, whenever she could come to the races. He wouldn’t stop smiling at his phone whenever they texted. He canceled plans with us because maybe she was free and they could video call. How could he say that shit?” Daniel looked forward, back towards their friend’s door.

“He’ll see his mistake, but I believe it will be too late.” 

Charles, even if he hadn’t told the Dutchman when Pierre had, had come to the same terms. If you were going to stop spending time with them because of Max, they would cut ties with him, so that you didn’t associate them with him. At the end of the call, you had fallen asleep, drained from crying so hard, and Charles hung up from the unresponsive line after a long and loud sigh. 

Pierre called you the next day and came to terms with the fact that the relationship was over, you were done with Max Verstappen. But he could tell that your words were somewhat empty. Pierre knew that if Max called you, told you that he was sorry, got on his knees, and begged for you to forgive him, you would give him a second chance. But Verstappen didn’t kneel for anyone, probably not even the woman that had made him a better person during the span of a year and a few months. Pierre also knew Max wasn’t happy with his choice. He wanted you back, the Frenchman could and would swear on it. 

Max felt shitty. Max Verstappen, felt like utter shit. Max Emilian Verstappen felt like the shitiest person in the world. During the time since the pictures had become public to the world, he had cried, had anger outbursts, and punched more than one wall. He knew, that if Y/N could see her, she wouldn’t have been amused. She would be beside him, hugging him, telling him that he could talk to her about anything and that she would sit and listen unless he specifically told her he wanted advice or something of the sort. Max Emilian Verstappen felt deeply flawed, he felt as if he had destroyed the only thing that made him happy. Y/N had been understanding, patient, reasonable, and empathic, many other things he needed in his life. She had been a form of stability, someone he knew he could count on, at any moment. Any time he was angry about a race, or some incident with Christian Horner, and his dad, she was always there and knew how to calm him down. Y/N knew whether he needed space, silent company, hugs, a silent bath, or any other thing to help him relax. And he blew it.

Max Emilian Verstappen destroyed the only relationship that had made him feel whole. And he did it on his own. For some time, he tried to blame Y/N, and find a way to justify his actions. But whenever he came with something, he knew it was far-fetched and unfair to her, and to him, once he realized he was only lying to himself. He then tried to blame Kelly, for tempting him to be in a relationship with her, but at the end of the day, he was the one in a relationship, not her. 

Max Emilian Verstappen had spent any free moment, drunk of his ass. Trying to forget the massive mistake he had done. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Once he could feel the tell-tale signs of drunkness, he could only think of you. If he focused enough, he could hear your voice and feel your touch. If he focused enough, he could ignore he destroyed your heart and keep living in the fantasy where you were waiting for him back in Italy, with crazy stories about some of your professors that had lost their minds during their time working at the University. 

Daniel, knowing this was the new hobby Max had started, was perfectly aware of where his friend was. It was hard for Daniel. Pierre and Charles had clearly chosen sides, but it was easier for them. Their relationship with Max wasn’t as close as with you. They hadn’t been Max’s teammates, they hadn’t seen Max grow into the person he was now since the beginning. It was easier for them to choose sides because he was the asshole, you were the victim, and you were just as close to them as Max was. Daniel didn’t have the same easy choice. But whenever he had to go down to the bar in the hotel, after being called by whoever was downstairs, Daniel knew he had to stay near Max, seeing him so drunk he wasn’t able to form coherent sentences, even open his eyes, made Daniel realize that even if max had destroyed your relationship, him not having you was punishment enough. 

“Let’s go, Max, time for bed.” The younger man had his phone on, a chat lighting up the screen. 

You did get the drunk message you wanted, but it was too late. Once it reached your screen, you knew it was too late, that he had taken too long.

 He had made his bed, and now he had to lay in it.

He stood again, gaze completely focused on Y/N. While he was walking towards the bench, he took notice of her clothing: a short-sleeved black turtleneck sweater, grey suit pants, and black high heels to match. Her sunglasses were oval-shaped with silver rims, matching her silver teardrop earrings and the few rings on her fingers. He couldn’t help but compare Y/N to Cassie, their stark differences, even in something as small as clothing.  He could feel her eyes following him, even if he couldn’t see them. Once he reached her, he leaned down to kiss her cheek and sat to her side, the one that wasn’t taken by her black leather purse. 

“How’s work going?” 

“You bitch.” She finally took off her sunglasses, amusement making her eyes glimmer. “You know perfectly well how work is going.” 

After Nate inherited his father’s company, his first project solely under his name was supposed to be an estate of high-end condos on a cliff facing the Pacific. He already had three of them sold, even before starting the construction of them. But it didn’t really matter, because the same day they started working on the site, the same day they were served with a lawsuit for environmental violations. 

Y/N was in her first year of Law School after getting a degree in Political Science, but thanks to Cal Jacob’s contacts, she had already worked as a paralegal for a small law firm focused on copyright and intellectual property rights. Now she was a paralegal for the environmental NGO that had spent the last six months of his life making his job impossible. 

“Still waiting on that court date, right?” He scoffed and grabbed her coffee tumbler, taking the last sip of it. He had forgotten she took her coffee black.

“Yeah.” She nodded, turning her head back to look at Katherine while she played.

“We need to talk, Nate.” He knew better than to think she was going to ask for them to get back together; it made no sense to keep thinking that. But yet, that was the first thing that came to his mind. “I'm not really comfortable with Katherine spending time in your house anymore.”

He didn’t know why he kept getting surprised by the shit this crazy bitch spewed every now and then.

The living room of the Halligan family was already in full movement by the time the middle child walked down the stairs from her bedroom. On her first day of school, Y/N Halligan had decided, persuaded by the rest of her friend group, to become an individual by breaking the school dress code, adding a jean jacket to the green uniform characteristic of the girls of Our Lady Immaculate.

“Good morning, young lady.” Her father, Robert Halligan was already sitting at the kitchen table, with the daily paper open on the wooden surface and the TV with the news on. 

“Morning, da.” With a kiss to his cheek she sat down beside him, shifting her body to face the television that was notifying about the bomb warning near one of the important bridges of Derry. The youngest son of the Halligan family was storming through the first floor of the home, apparently looking for something.

“Anyone seen my five pounds?”

“Did you own five pounds to begin with?”

“Have you gotten funnier overnight?”

“Yep, practiced.” To the usual sibling bickering, too early to Evelyn Halligan’s liking, a small motherly reply came through the room.

“Children, there is no need to start like this this early in the morning.” Once she turned around from the stove, where bread had been toasting, she noticed her daughter’s uniform, and her son’s unmade tie. “Y/N, dear, why are you wearing a denim jacket? Sean, I am well aware you know how to wear a tie.”

“The girls and I wanted to give our own spin to the uniform this year, ma.” Evelyn nodded, seemingly understanding the situation the girls were in.

“Uniforms are so stiff, they don’t give room to self expression, too traditional for a world so fast paced in change.” Y/N nodded, a wide smile showing her white teeth.

“Thet is exactly how we see it, mammy.” The teen turned to her younger brother, the smile easily turning taunting. “And what is your reasoning, Sean? Are messy ties somehow a symbol of opposition to the English?"

This made Robert pull his eyes from the screen. “You are looking for conflict to entertain yourself, young lady. There is no need to go there at this time in the morning.” To this, Sean twisted his face in a mocking manner, in a way to say “who is laughing now, shitface?” 

Y/N stood from the table to reach for a slice of bread cooling from the pile on the plate beside her mother. Placing it in her mouth and shaking off her mothers questions regarding butter, she moved to the front door of the home, of course ruffling the already messy curls her brother had spent far too much time styling in the bathroom the five of them shared. She was almost out the door when the oldest sibling came down the stairs. 

Alex had finished school the year prior, this being his time to start looking for a job, considering that he had decided to not pursue higher education, much to his parent’s demise. Summer had gone by quicker than he expected, and by the start of the new school year he had dedicated the majority of his time practising with his band in a basement and looking for a radio station in Derry that would take him in to talk about music. Unsurprisingly, the job prospect wasn’t looking favorable for the young man.

“Look who has decided to grace us with his presence.” Who had had the hardest time adjusting to Alex’s life decisions was Robert Halligan, who had placed a large amount of hope of their son becoming the second person to study at university after him. With a small groan and a hand to his face, the brunette sat down at the table. “Found a job yet?”

“I have a gig tonight, da, not my priority today.” The paper was closed swiftly, signaling that Rob’s attention was solely on his son. 

“I have decided to give you one more week. At the firm they’ll give you a spot as an errand boy by Monday. You can find something you like in that space of time, or you can come work with me.” The groan that followed was a clear indicator of the opinion the young adult had. “I will not have you waste your life.”

With a sight, Y/N tried spinning the conversation around. “The girls are waiting for me outside, I’ll see you after school.” Grabbing the black backpack from the floor, the girl swiftly turned around to walk out the door.

“Don’t forget about tonight.”

“Won’t.”

…

The group of girls had made it to the old shop owned by Dennis, in a pursuit for candies to snack on during the breaks in their school day. After discovering that Erin and Orla hadn’t been allowed to be individuals and that Clare had refused to be an individual on her own, Y/N was the only one still wearing the denim jacket, making her stand out from the group of girls in green. While Clare had been speaking about Kamal and his travels to wells in Ethiopia, the young girl had only been thinking of her need for a smoke, making her excuse herself from the group to go outside. 

Once out of the small store she took out of the front pocket of her backpack her pack of cigarettes and her cheetah print pink lighter, a gag gift from Alex in an attempt to crack a joke that to this point she still hadn't understood. Leaning against the metal fence and placing the nicotine stick between her lips, she covered it with her hands while she tried lighting it before being interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Mind if I borrow your light?” Turning her head she was facing David Donnelly, the lead guitarist of the band he and her brother were part of, The Nether Regions, a name that had caused yet another argument between her father and Alex. 

“Here.” Once her cigarette was lit and she took a drag from it, Y/N passed the pink plastic cylinder to David, who chuckled once it was in his hand.

“Remember choosing this one for you with Alex.” She turned her body around to fully face him and pulled away the stick to tap the ashes on the ground. 

“Still don’t get the joke about the lighter, and he seems unable to explain it.”

“You know him, somewhere in his head a pink leopard print lighter is amusing enough to pay 1 pence for.” Pulling the cig from the back of his ear he quickly lit his, handing the object back to the girl. “Are we seeing you tonight? Your brother mentioned you would take the pictures?”

“Hm, yeah.” Another drag. “I’ve got the film set in the camera, 36 photos total.”

Before they could keep on talking, Erin, Orla, and Clare stormed out in a rush. The shortest of the group went directly to Y/N.

“Dennis said that it is against the law to touch the candies and then put them back, Y/N. And I know he is lying, I’m sure of it.” She dropped the cig and stepped on it, blowing the remaining smoke from her lungs. “And I reminded him that you da is a lawyer, and that his actions have legal consequences.” With pursed lips and short nods she was listening to her friend narrate the events. 

Orla had stayed slightly behind, and Erin was unsurprisingly trying to look calm and cool in front of the older guy she had had a significant crush on over the past year.  By the time Clare had ended the story and had slightly calmed down, Erin was staring intently at David, making the scene more awkward than it already was. 

“I thought you had stopped smoking, Y/N.” The blond made a gesture towards the squished cigarette on the floor and the lighter still in her hand. 

“In the eyes of my parents I have.” To this David laughed, knowing the strict character Robert Halligan had, obviously in an exaggerated manner by the retellings of Alex. 

“Cool poster David.” Erin walked closer to the teens leaning on the fence. “Nice use of, you know, letters.” The boy pulled out his nicotine stick and blew out the smoke in his lungs, facing the whole group of girls.

“Thanks, you should come along tonight. Y/N will be taking the pictures of the gig.” He turned his head to signal towards the other teen girl. 

“You’re inviting me to your gig?” 

“Yeah, well, all of you.” 

“But you specifically want me to go. I mean, just so we’re clear.” Clare looked at Y/N with a questioning look, not fully understanding their friend’s behaviour towards the fella. To this, the other girl shrugged.

“But Erin, Murder she wrote is on tonight. You never miss Murder she wrote.” Erin’s cheeks turned pink at Orla’s comment, feeling suddenly exposed and uncool in front of David Donnelly,  her all time crush.

“We’ll see you tonight then, David.” Y/N gently grabbed her friend’s arm, wanting to steer her away from the conversation that had gone on for too long.  

“Yeah, ‘course. Kick’s off at 18.00.”

“Great, cool.” Y/N kept pulling, despite Erin still talking to David. “Maybe I’ll see you there then.” Clare pushed Erin in the general direction of the path to the school, leaving Orla to enthusiastically wave goodbye at the boy. 

David shouted at the group of girls that were starting to leave. “Y/N, do you mind coming earlier for the set up?”

“Yeah, no problem.” They finally turned around from the scene, Erin quickly turning to face Y/N. 

“Why is David Donnelly asking you to be there earlier?” They both stopped in the street, making Clare anxious about getting to the school too late.

“Because Alex wants me to take pictures of the concert, and Donnelly is making sure that I don’t back down.” The blonde’s eyes became so wide Y/N was concerned they would pop off.

“Can I come?” The teen hesitated. “I can also be of help, I can write an article about the gig, you know, realtime journalism.”

“Yeah, sure.”

…

They met at the bus station with the missing girl from the group, Michelle. The brunette was Y/N’s closest friend, still with very different personalities, but with the same type of humor that made more than one teacher send them to detention. While Clare and Erin spoke about going to the gig, Michelle was yelling at them from behind.

“Motherfuckers!” Before Y/N could turn around, she felt an arm wrapping over her shoulders and the ticklish sensation of her friend’s curls on her cheek. To this physical affection she responded by gripping the hand near her neck, turning the embrace into somewhat of a hug. “Motherfucker is my new thing. Watched this film last night, my da got it off Pyro Paulie, and it’s about these two lads and they wear these cracking suits, and rock about shooting people and eating cheeseburgers. And they’re all “Motherfucker this, Motherfucker that”.”

“Pulp Fiction?” 

“Yeah, that one.” The English accent made Y/N turn around to see the boy Erin and Clare were already looking at, causing furrowed brows from the three girls.

“Who owns the fella?” Erin had been the one to say out loud what all of the girls were thinking, except maybe Orla who was still focusing on biting off a piece of licorice. Michelle turned around, suddenly remembering the presence of her cousin James. 

“Me.” She scrunched her face in apparent disgust. “Well, come on, ball ache. Are you introducing yourself, or what?” The boy, under the five pairs of questioning eyes, waved his hand awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m Michelle’s cousin, James.” Orla shifted uncomfortably towards Erin.

“He’s my aunt Kathy’s wain. I told you about my Auntie Kathy. She went to England years ago to have an abortion, and never came back.” She paused for a second in realization. “Never got the abortion either. Lucky for you, James, eh?” She slapped his cheek in a half-way affectionate manner.

“What’s he doing here?” Erin moved to get a better look at James. 

“Kathy’s just got divorced, so she’s moved back. The husband caught her doing the dirt on him. She’s a bit of a goer, is our Kathy, riding rings around him, so she was.” Y/N appeared on the other side of Michelle, turning once again to look at James in confusion.

“I think Erin meant what he was doing at our bus stop.” The green uniform was giving the girl a clear insight of what was probably going on, considering that the boys from the catholic school on the other side of town wore navy blue.

“Oh, right. He’s going to our school. Everyone was shitting it about sending him to the boys’ school. They were worried that the lads would beat him up because he’s English.” 

“Makes sense to me.” Y/N turned to look at Clare, who seemed to be in agreement.

“And you couldn’t really blame them.” This made James furrow his brow at his cousin’s comment. “Talking about lads who would beat up an English fella. Saw your brother yesterday at Finnoula’s, Y/N. He’s still a total ride.” The other girl grimaced at the comment. “Any news on that front?”

“He’s still with Mary, ‘Elle, I think you’ll have to wait.” Remembering their past conversation, Erin enthusiastically turned to Michelle.

“David Donnelly has invited me to his gig tonight at 18.00. Michelle, please come.” Michelle stopped in her tracks, making the other two girls stop also. 

“You mean Y/N has to go and you’ve been invited out of politeness?” Michelle turned to Y/N to check on the events, to which the girl replied with a gentle nod. 

“He told me, Michelle, that means something.”

“Whatever rocks your boat, Erin.”

Even if the news about the trip to Paris had shocked the whole group, sending the teenage girls and James into a stressed-out frenzy, Y/N still had David taking a lot of space in her mind. Since the kiss, which she kept thinking about whenever a teacher lost her attention, guilt had eaten her body, especially when looking at Erin. The young Halligan couldn’t imagine herself as someone that would break “girl code”, in fact, she had to admit that she had been, more than once, the girl to condemn a classmate when they fought over guys. Being on the other side made her feel dirty, like a hypocrite. 

These feelings had made her avoid seeing her brother at their practices, declining every invitation with the excuse that with working at the salon she was falling behind on schoolwork and was too tired to go. All lies, obviously, since Y/N had always done her tasks ten minutes before each class, like Alex had taught her. Mary was no help either. Since the both of them had had more conversations about the serousness of their relationship, Robert and Evelyn had insisted more and more for her to come to dinner, being almost family and all. This left Y/N with dinners full of Alex insisting she should go back to seeing them play and Mary saying that she needed some girl company, to talk about girl stuff. 

So not only was she now avoiding David like the plague, she was stuck wondering what Mary could possibly mean by talking about girl stuff. Y/N’s closest friend was Michelle, and half of their conversations were about rides and the other half were about parties and messing in school. She couldn’t even fathom what the blonde would want to talk to her about, she didn’t seem like a girl that liked talking about cracking fellas. 

Sean, on the other hand, was over the moon with Mary becoming a new addition to the family, because this got his parents off his back about the girl he had been talking to recently, or at least that was what he had told Y/N. Even if they weren’t as close as Y/N and Alex, the youngest Halligan had always been comfortable talking to his sister about things like this, probably because he was comforted by her cluelessness in the topic. Sean had met the girl during one of his football matches with his friends. Friend of a friend that had gone to watch them play, Sean had found her cute with her red hair and blue eyes and had asked for her phone number. The fact that the youngest boy wanted to keep her a secret from his parents was perfect for Y/N, because if both of her brothers had relationships, the whole family would focus on her, and on her apparent single status. She could already imagine her distant relatives asking her if there was a fella waiting for her call after the event, and her trying to bite her tongue to not admit the truth; that her fella was actually her friend’s fella, and that she would never be able to be with him because of “girl code”. Aunt Beth would completely get that, yeah.

Looking up from her broom, the clock mounted on the wall showed that she only had fifteen minutes left until closing time. Y/N looked for her mother and found her charging her last client, a girl around her age that had gone to get her hair curled for a date, she had cheerfully explained to Evelyn while she was putting the curlers on her brown hair. Both women made eye contact, mother and daughter smiling at each other. Even if her shift had been born from a punishment for bullying first years (which she hadn’t done), it had been a great opportunity to spend time with her ma without anyone else interfering with their conversation. The minutes before getting home, walking down the streets of Derry together, talking about anything had become a staple for both of them.

Finally closing the salon for the day, Y/N put her white coat over her green uniform, snaking her arm through her mother’s as they started walking down the street in the direction to their home. “Ma?”

“Yes, honey?”

“The school announced today the trip for this year.”

“Where is it?”

“Paris.”

“Your father and I went to Paris for our honeymoon.” Y/N nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s a beautiful city, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“But the price is somewhat high, so I was wondering if I could keep working at the hair salon, but this time with pay? I’ve done the maths and five pence an hour is enough for me to be able to pay for the trip before the deadline.” Evelyn remained silent, trying to figure out if there was indeed a possibility to hire her daughter for her to save up money for the trip.

“I’m not sure, Y/N, let me talk to your father and we can all figure something out, yeah?” Y/N nodded, a small smile on her face to assure her mother that it was okay. “We will come to a solution, sweets.”

Once home, the family was in the common area, wondering what to have. Y/N, freshly out of her shower and drying her hair with a towel was sitting on the armrest of the couch, counting down the seconds until her mother would tell her to get off it before she ruined the shape of it. Sean was laying on the same couch facing the ceiling, throwing a small ball and catching it repeatedly. Alex was trying to make their TV work, wanting to put on the news for the family as they usually did at night.

Rob, in an attempt to promote the critical thinking of his children, had always insisted they watched the news together and then conversed about them, trying to get them to form solid opinions regarding the political setting they lived in. The result, unfortunately for them, was two sons that sympathised with the IRA and a daughter that got in too much trouble for questioning her teachers. But, as Robert had insisted after Evelyn had shown her concerns about the matter, better strong ideals than wavering ideologies that could be manipulated by someone smarter.  

Both parents left the kitchen area and went to the living room to meet their children. “So, we’ve decided that tonight we’re eating from the chippy.” Three pairs of eyes met the two adults. “Your mother doesn’t feel like cooking, rightfully so, so we’re having Finnoula’s.”

Seeing that there was no opposition, the teens were too hungry to request something different, Evelyn walked towards the chart. A small whiteboard that hung from the wall divided the chores depending on who had done it last. “So, it seems like our lucky wain today is Y/N. Dear, write down our orders and go to the chippy, please.” Standing from her seat, Y/N walked to the small notebook in her mother’s hands and the pen in her fathers, and did so. 

Once done with writing down their meal, she grabbed her coat and walked to Finnoula’s. To her parent’s surprise, she hadn’t complained about going, but this was because she knew her friends would be there too, so the trip wasn’t as tedious as it usually was. Walking into the place, she saw that Erin and Orla were already in, Erin reading the list to Finnoula, making the older woman angrier by the second. 

“Give me that!” Finnoula took the small piece of paper from Erin’s hand, making the teen mutter a thanks in exchange. “Halligan, don’t even bother, give it to me too.” Y/N walked to the women and gave her her list, turning to look at the pair of cousins. 

“Any news about the trust fund, girls?” They both shook their heads no, unsurprising Y/N who was in the same situation. 

“What about you?” She placed her hands on the counter, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Apparently they have something saved, but it’s for university or for when the car breaks, whatever comes first.” Clare came in during the girl’s explanation, placing herself between Orla and Erin. 

“What about you, Clare, any joy with the trust fund?” The blonde looked at the three taller girls, shaking her head.

“Nah. According to my ma, we’re actually quite poor.”

“Aye, I think we might be as well.” After Erin saying this, Finnoula came back, looking expectantly at Clare, making the girl stutter in nervousness because of the woman. Michelle walked in, followed closely by James, both bearing similar news.

“Well, Jenny Joyce was talking through her fat hole about this trust fund thing.” James waved at the girls, being ignored except for Y/N’s small smile. “What the fuck are we going to do about Paris now?”

Orla, always the voice of reason, piped her ideas regarding funding. ”We could sell our organs.” 

Sarcastically, Y/N replied: “We’ve all got two kidneys, and I know of people that only have one.” Clare glared at the girl, trying to show her opinion about accepting Orla’s ideas as reasonable ones.

“We could, we could sell our organs. And, forgive me if this is a bit left field, but could we not, you know, get jobs?” Michelle rolled her eyes at Clare.

“There’s no jobs in Derry. That’s what you hear everybody say.” Y/N turned to the bulletin board in front of them, pointing out the flyers stuck to the surface.

“They’re usually talking about real jobs when they say that. Small, menial tasks that are extremely boring are extremely available.” 

After talking more about the job prospects in Derry and the missing vs. dead cat posters, James had had an outburst in the shop, complaining that the food at Finnoula was far too greasy for his interest, making him get kicked out of the place. The other girls waited for their orders to be ready before leaving, Y/N saying goodbye to James before walking home.

With the bags in her hands and her fingers sore from holding the broom, the young girl had decided to carry them in her arms, the same way you would carry a small child, which led to the plastic bags making her arms start to burn. Walking quickly down the streets of Derry, she made it home, to their green front door and opened it quickly.

“Help, quick! I’m burning myself.” Walking into the living room, she felt the bags being lifted from her arms, not noticing who was the one taking them away. “Thank you. I swear Finnoula heats up the oil more each time.” 

“Ha, yeah, she’s probably plotting against all of us.” Stopping what she was going, which was wiping her hands on her jeans, Y/N looked up in shock at the voice from the person in front of her.

“Y/N, honey, you came! David is joining us for dinner tonight, I’m sure we can make the food feed one more.” She looked up at the boy that was holding the bags, a sheepish smile meeting her in exchange. 

“Alex told me you killed a nun today?”

Like the boy had requested, Y/N was sitting in the small room they were given to leave their things before the start of the gig. Her wristwatch showed that it was 17.45 and her older brother was nowhere in sight. This left her alone with David, who was taking out the guitar from its case.

“Huh?”

“I mean, I knew you were a bit of trouble, you are a Halligan, but I never expected murder to be on your list.” He turned around to face her with a smirk, showing that he was joking. “Those girls from Our Lady Immaculate, who would've thought.”

“We were sent to detention because we were accused of bullying, and the nun that was supervising was about to turn 98, so she dropped dead during." Y/N put the camera around her neck and checked that the lenses were clean before they walked out to the small stage. 

“Your brother said someone was peeing when they caught you?”

“Yeah, James.” David furrowed his brows. “He’s Michelle’s English cousin, they didn’t want him in Saint Augustine.” They both exited the room and stepped on the elevated platform where everything was set except Alex’s drums. David placed the guitar on the small stand besides the main microphone, humming while doing so in a knowingly tone.

“What?”

“Nothing, just that if your brother had known that he was English, he would have told me. And he wouldn't have laughed about the situation.” Y/N played with the camera in her hands, rolling her eyes while doing so.

“Alex and Sean need to learn that James isn’t guilty of our situation. He isn’t the one restricting us, he’s 17.” She turned around to go back down, not enjoying the way the conversation was spinning. 

She had liked James. Yes, he was awkward, and yes he was English, but he didn’t seem like a bad kid, and Y/N couldn’t even imagine the feeling of starting all over again in a new place. The people from outside their circle would already treat him like an outsider, the least she could do is the opposite. Remembering that Alex was still missing, she blew air slowly from her mouth. Because of the fiasco in the school, her friends had been grounded without coming to the concert, leaving her alone with David. 

She hadn’t come out clean, her parents had allowed this once exception because external people were expecting her, but she was looking at a week of helping her mother at the hair salon sweeping and cleaning. Usually the voice of reason from the group of parents, Robert and Evelyn hadn’t punished their daughter for killing a nun that was nearing a century, but for standing by while Michelle had bullied the poor wains, her mother’s words, not hers. Y/N had tried to plead her case, saying that asking for a spot in a bus wasn't as concerning as they had painted it to be, but a serious glare from the matriarch made her close her mouth, lest it become two weeks of cleaning hair from the floor. 

While checking the lighting of the small pub through her camera, and looking for good angles for the shots, she felt a hand tap against her shoulder. Turning around she saw Mary, Alex’s girlfriend for the past three months. Her blond curls were pinned perfectly, glossy strands shining against the minimal light with pink small clips. Glossed lips and perfect eyeshadow, both girls were a stark contrast of each other: Y/N tried to look casual while the older girl was always put together. This made the younger feel slightly insecure whenever they saw each other, feeling somehow inadequate no matter the setting.

“Have you seen Alex?” Mary’s question made Y/N furrow her brows and tilt her head, surprised with the question. 

“No, I thought he was with you.” The blond shook her head, curls bouncing with her. “He will show, he’s been talking about this gig for a whole month.” As if they had called him, Alex showed through the door, a distressed look on his face. Some of his friends were helping him carry the bags in which the several drums were meticulously put away for transportation.

They made eye contact quickly, and Alex neared both girls, kissing both on the cheek. “The stupid van wasn’t starting, we had to walk all the way from home to get here.” Mary then moved to his side to help him with one of the bags, moving both swiftly to set up the remaining instruments. 

Suddenly a feeling of loneliness overwhelmed Y/N. Her friends were probably by now getting ready to go to sleep, and she was here, feeling out of place with the older kids that she didn’t know well enough to feel comfortable with walking to one of them and starting a conversation. She thought of David, and how she had left him mid conversation for a comment that was true; her brothers don’t like the English, and James is English. The awkwardness of standing at a bar without drinking and alone was making her itch to go see him again, and talk to him about whatever, she could talk to him about the awful mustard colour of the place just as long as they spoke about something.

Her thoughts moved to Erin, and how she kept raving about David during the summer. Somehow, having her friend talk about the older boy made Y/N think more of David out of hearing her friend talk about him. She could see the appeal, he was nice, not like other lead guitarists she had had the misfortune of talking to at other gigs of The Nether regions, he was cute and fairly down to earth. But David was Erin’s crush, and Y/N respected this, therefore she was always quick to push those thoughts out of her mind, avoiding the small fantasy to grow stronger. 

Thinking of the boy, David tapped the microphone on stage, making the people at the pub turn to face him, pausing their conversations. The lights dimmed at the same time as the stage lights flickered to light up the faces of the bandmates. Looking past the boy, Y/N made eye contact with Alex, who winked at her from the very end of the platform. From her two brothers, she was closer to the oldest, and that small recognition from him made her forget about the small insecurities that had found place in her mind. Y/N moved closer to the stage, squishing between the people to reach the angles she had already memorized for the pictures to promote the band later on.

David introduced the people onstage to the crowd, and swiftly started playing the beginning of one of their most popular songs, making their friends and their more avid followers to cheer and holler. As time passed and the songs left their more punk rock style and they moved to their covers, the music slowed, starting to play music that made the people sway, not jump and sing. During this time, Y/N caught herself moving to the melody, distracted with the way the band was playing. Being Alex’s younger sister, when they had just started, their mother would make him take her with him, wanting Alex to learn about responsibility and about the importance of having a good bond with their siblings. This meant that she had seen them practice with out of tune instruments because they thought it sounded better, the discussions about their set list and the horrible lyrics and melodies they had come up with. 

Seeing them here now made her think of their progress, which made a small smile graze her lips. David saw her from the stage, standing on one of the sides, small camera in her hand and moving her head to the slow beat. Leaving her thoughts behind, she made eye contact with Donnelly, making her involuntarily blush and look at her feet, embarrassed about the idea of being caught like this. She moved again from her spot, excusing it by thinking of getting new angles, but truthfully with the aim to become invisible again in the eyes of the older boy. This was fruitless, because as if they were attached by an invisible magnet, he saw her again, smiling harder when they made eye contact again.

Sooner than she thought, the gig was over. Alex came forward from his spot on stage to thank the crowd for coming, the pub for hosting and his bandmates for all the work they had put on this small concert. As if they were in a movie, once he was finished talking, he jumped from the platform and kissed Mary, making Y/N roll her eyes at the theatrics. Knowing they would go to the room to get their things, she went there to wait for them, taking out the full roll of film and putting it in the small case she used to then take them to be revealed. While she was putting her jacket on, the band walked in, the four boys speaking loudly over each other in their excitement. Alex noticed her in the room and went to hug her.

“What did you think, eh, kid?

“You’ve gotten good.” Both siblings smiled at their words. Alex in gratitude for his sister’s comment and Y/N in pride of the progress they had showcasded that night. His face suddenly shifted to one of realisation.

“Shite.”

“What?”

“You have school tomorrow, yeah?” Y/N nodded, confused at his surprised questioning. “I completely forgot. Mary and I were going to stay here a bit longer, but I don’t want you walking home alone.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” Alex rubbed his mouth with his hand, looking around the small room.

“Yeah, but I do. And ma and da.” His sister shrugged, trying to make the issue seem small. “Ma is probably on the couch waiting for you, you can’t go alone.” Alex turned around. “Hey, David, do you mind walking Y/N home?” 

David stopped wrapping the guitar cable, turning to see the duo of siblings. “Oh, no, not at all, I can go.”

“It really isn’t necessary.”

“Hush, kid.” Alex walked towards his friend. “Thanks man, I owe you a big one.” David scrunched up his face.

“It’s not a big deal, I can go, no problem.” Donnelly grabbed his guitar case and placed it over his shoulder. “I’m ready whenever you are, Y/N.” The girl turned to grab her backpack, moving swiftly to leave the room that had suddenly become constricting to her. 

She couldn’t understand the pit of nerves that had started in her stomach. She had known David for a long time and she had never felt like this at the prospect of spending some time with him. She walked forward, opening the door for him before walking out herself. Once they had left the pub, David moved to walk alongside her down the street.

“So, what did you think?” He bumped her shoulder affectionately with his.

“You have all gotten very good, no comparison with how you started.” The boy groaned jokingly, slightly embarrassed by the fact Y/N remembered their first days as a group. The girl stopped softly, reaching for the front pocket of her bag. “Mind if I..?”

“No, not at all. I’m feeling up to one myself.” Rummaging through the small pocket, she could only feel her lighter, not finding the cardboard box of cigarettes. Y/N then remembered that there was a high change that the tobacco had fallen out when she came home from detention and she flung her backpack on the bed. With a small groan she made David pay more attention to her. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just left my pack on my bed, I guess I’ll wait for tomorrow before school.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I have one left, we can share.”

“Are you sure?”

“In thanks for the light this morning.” Y/N looked at him with a crooked smile, knowing that sharing a cig was more valuable that a little bit of fire. Before she could retort, David had made appear the cigarette, leaving her to light it and to take the first drag. While she was doing so, the boy seemed to turn shy. “I -uh- I wanted to apologise for before, about the thing with James.”

She puffed out the smoke in her lungs and handed him the stick. “No, I should apologise, I was dry and unfair.” He took a slow drag, maintaining eye contact with the girl. “You made me realize that my brothers aren’t the most accepting people, and they made me angry, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They fell into step again. The night air was sharp and smelled faintly of rain and smoke from the chimneys. Their shoes scuffed against the pavement in rhythm with the wind rattling the lampposts. Each word of their earlier conversation drifted away into the quiet hum of Derry at night. Neither of them spoke. They kept walking until they reached her family’s front door, the dark green colour looking black in the middle of the night. They both stopped, turning to face each other again. Y/N felt glued to the ground, not truthfully wanting to let this night end. 

“Thanks for walking me.”

A strong silence engulfed the teens, Y/N not knowing if she had to say something else, and David seemingly caught in thought. Both felt a slight pull for each other, and before they knew it they had joined their lips in a small kiss that tasted of nicotine and mint. Moving his hands to her waist, the boy tried moving her closer, accidentally breaking Y/N from her stupor and making her push him away by placing her hands on his chest. 

Once they were apart, she looked at him in surprise, disbelief coating her features. David looked apologetic, but before he could word anything regarding the situation, the younger girl turned around and went up the small steps before reaching the door.

“Y/N!”

The Jacobs' household was soaked in silence, the two young adults in the kitchen after setting their kid to bed. Nate was sitting on the armchair near the kitchen island, while she was cleaning the remaining of dinner. He stood up, walking towards his wife, invading her personal space.

"Can I know where this is coming from?" The faucet had been dripping for a bit, probably because it knew breaking the silence was its new task.

"I don't think we need to be married." Her hand was gripping a damp towel, hyper-focusing in a little circle of coffee from that morning. "We aren't a married couple, we're just two adults living in a house and raising a child."

"Who's fault is that?"

"Don't blame me." The circle was finally gone. "You were the one who married a woman who never wanted you." Their eyes met for the fist time since they put their child to bed.

"Don't say that shit."

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm thirsty." Both young adults turned around to look at the small figure standing by the hallway. The way they were gripping the doorway and their half hidden body proved that the child had been there for longer.

"Mommy will get you some." Quickly she turned around to fill a plastic cup with water. "Here hon. Do you need help going back to bed?"

"I want daddy to do it." Those big brown eyes were too hard to deny, making Nate walk forward.

"Come on, Jojo, I'll read you another story." He lifted his child to his hip, somehow still dwarfing the child, as if they hadn't grown since they were still a baby.

"Goodnight mommy."

"Goodnight, baby."

The staircase was full of picture frames of the young family, at the park, the zoo, on christmas. Endless memories that his stupid wife wanted to throw away because she was a quitter and a coward.

"What were you and mommy talking about?"

"Nothing you have to worry about."

"You were mad. Is mommy in trouble? Should she sit on the step?" Jojo was the most terrifying child Nate had ever met. The big eyes, the big cheeks and their calm nature made them look like a small victorian child that had seen too much. Jojo had a normal childhood, two parents that loved them, friends, and two set of grandparents that spoiled the kid a bit too much. Normal, very normal child.

Nate thought all the weird things that came out of Jojo were her fault. She burdened their child, he knew it. Jojo played like any other kid, Jojo had the same taste buds as any other kid. But Jojo asked uncomfortable questions and would stare at you for a bit too long, as if the five year-old was trying to figure you out.

She spent too much time raising the child, got bored because she's a stupid selfish bitch and decided to treat Jojo like an adult. Too many books, too many paintings and too many museums.

Jojo loved their mom, and Nate was envious. Not because Jojo didn't love Nate, but because looking at them proved what relationships between mother and child could be. Martha hadn't been present, she was home, and she picked him up from school, but his dad was the one in charge of raising him.

Seeing Jojo and Y/N somehow was the Universe or whatever entity rubbing it his face. You had the potential for having this, but you didn't.

The white walls of his kid's room were covered in little scribbles on the wall, something they hadn't bothered in correcting as long as it was only in these walls. The dinosaur lamp was still on, spreading the room in the light green light. Some story books were laying on the ground, and some books. Original versions of classics such as Little Women and To kill a mockingbird laid besides The very humgry caterpillar and The Giving tree.

During the walk up and the small back rubs Nate was giving Jojo, the five-year old had fallen asleep, long eyelashes tickling their cheeks. The toddler was set on the brand new ocean life bed sheets, their latest obsession, and immediately started hugging the handmade-crochet whale they had made with their mom's help.

After setting the kid to sleep and kissing their small forehead, Nate went downstairs. His wife was were he left her, this time with a mug between her hands.