You left Broken Bow, after a year in nursing school. A dreadful, anxiety ridden year. You left without a proper goodbye, just a note, to the man you were hopelessly in love with; Dennis Whitaker. Love couldn't keep you in broken bow. You and him both put love on the back burner, each of you focusing on your careers. But one day, you roll into the ER, as a victim of Pithiest. Not only that, you were performing at it. What happens to the unprocessed emotions?
Leaving's the hardest part
Tonight
See you again
No mans land
Long road ahead~ coming soon…
EXTRAS:
TEASER
DISCOGRAPHY
BOWEY INSTAGRAM POSTS
Notes: Readers stage name is Bowey, I'm writing reader with she/her pronouns, and as undescriptive as I can to my ability, clothing will be described for stage outfits but hair, skin color, eye color, etc.. will not really be described! Comment 4 taglist!
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school has burnt me out so much recently and I’ve had so much work… I’m also in the midst of moving currently. But once I get the chance to start writing I will!
Read this extra parts will make more sense for the future chapters
Summary: After being shot at Pittfest. You are not in great condition, your friends and doctors work hard to stay strong and save your life.
CW: Graphic violence, blood and gore, near-death experience, Medical trauma / emergency treatment (ICU, surgery, life support), Mass casualty event, Emotional distress and panic, mentions of potential death, injury to multiple characters
“Bow… you have to… wake…. Keep your eyes open, okay.” Your ears ring, over the ringing, a voice says in an unsteady voice, you open your eyes slowly, vision blurred over. You can make out the figure in front of you. The moonlight is casting a soft glow over them.
“Den-,” You attempt to say his name, but as you begin your sentence, you cough up blood.
“Shh dont try to talk, okay? S’me Jess.” Your vision clears a little; the lines of her face, her dark eyes, and her soft blonde hair are the only things you can make out. You feel a tight pressure around your upper thigh; it's only getting tighter. You whimper out in pain, “You’re bleeding, I have to stop it.”
“W-what d’you mean? Wh- where am I?” You try to push yourself up off the stage, but your body refuses, pain shocking your system. You groan, blood gushing out of the 3 gunshot wounds.
“Were at Pittfest, you got hurt while performing.” She takes a shaky breath, takes off her shirt, and presses it on the wound just above your navel, “Were gonna get you some help, okay?” You scream out when she presses harder on your wound.
“W- are you hurt?”
She looks down at her calf, a wound going through and through, pulsing in pain every time she adjusts her weight to keep the blood inside your body. “M’fine.”
Your eyelids begin to weigh thousands of pounds, slowly drooping lower and lower, threatening to close, “N… Bow… No. sta… wake… f… me..” You hear her scream for help, though it is muffled by you slowly drifting off, eyelids nearly millimeters from closing, your skin growing colder by the second in her hands.
“Tell-” You begin to say, blood drying at the corners of your mouth, tears freely pouring down your face.
“No, no, no, tell them yourself, you're not dying.” She adjusts her weight, putting more pressure on your wounds. “No, not today, not tomorrow, or anytime soon.”
“Tell- tell Den- that im sorry.” You cough in between your sentences, “N’that I.. I still love him.”
“No, no your telling him that, cause your not dying.” Tears stream down her face, still looking around for help. “Where the fuck is a paramedic?” She yells out in panic and frustration. She continues to yell out for help while trying to keep your bleeding at bay. Even with your worsening vision, you can tell that her chest is heaving, up and down every fraction of a second. You move your hand, grabbing hold of her wrist. Her body jerks at the coldness of your hand.
“N-no one is coming.” Bringing your head up a little, the earth swaying left to right, you look her in the eye. “S’okay, m’fine, y-you’re hurt.” You bring your head down, every limb weighing thousands of pounds. As your eyelids finally get the relief of falling, you can hear Jess screaming, screaming for you or for help, you don't know.
You push your legs to run harder, faster across the vast farm land. “Im faster than you, Denny!” You yell out, not looking back at the young boy. You sprint past the invisible finish line, marked by a bloomed magnolia. You roll to the ground, laughing. A few seconds later, Dennis catches up, panting softly, walking towards you. He looks down at you lying in the grass.
“No fair,” The boy whines, lying on the ground next to you. “You are like 3 inches taller than me. I didn't even get a head start.”
“Well, maybe you should take this as a sign to grow your like 3 feet tall”
He gasps in offense, “Im only nine, I have years to grow.”
“Yeah, yeah.. Whatever.” You huff out. Looking up at the soft blue sky, the magnolia petals are getting pulled off the tree by the wind, falling towards your face. “Den?”
“Hm?” He looks at you.
“Do you think we will be friends when were grownups?” You ask.
He thinks for a minute, “I think that when we are grown up we will be the best of friends.” He smiles when he looks at you again. “And in every other universe, too.”
“Really?” You laugh, “Every other universe?”
“Every single universe.”
You and Dennis lay there in silence for a while, talking about random things, whatever came to mind, the sun blends from blue to soft hues of pink and orange. Out in the distance, you can hear Dennis’s name and your name being called for dinner. “Race you back?”
“Can I get a head start?” He asks standing up. Leaving his hand out to help you up.
“Okay, you get two seconds.” You grab his hand, standing up, and wipe off remnants of grass clipping off your pants.
“Oh, come on, at least five.” He whines
“No, three.” You look at him, crossing your arms.
Knowing he won't win this, he takes the 3 seconds and sprints off. You gasp, “You didn't even say when!” You yell out, chasing after him.
“Help! Someone- please help us!” Jess screams out. Tears are streaming down her face. Looking around, she sees no one around, not even another injured festival attendee. She starts to push herself up. Releasing pressure from your wounds. Limping towards the stairs to the stage. She groans when she makes it down the first step. Trying to walk-limp as fast as she can. Once she makes it off the stage and pushes past a barricade. She continues to limp across the festival. Minutes go by, tears falling down her face in splashes, staining her chest. The soft stinging coming from her calf turned into an intense stabbing pain, becoming impossible to ignore.
“Freeze!” Guns point at her, a hoard of police officers looking at her.
Her hands fly up, chest heaving, “Please, please help, my friend.” She says your name. “She was performing and she- she got shot. Please, please, she needs help.” An officer radios something, and one of them motion her to show them. She points towards the mainstage.
“Please be fast, she is bleeding a lot.” Two officers ran off in the direction Jess pointed to.
Another officer tells her to come with her. Jess wraps her arm around the officer's arm, limping away towards the exit.
Officers quickly scale the stage stairs, running towards your limp, bleeding body. “We have an unresponsive female on the mainstage, GSW to the right thigh, abdomen, and breast.” An officer sighs, reaching into their pocket, tearing open a quick-clot packet, removing the cloth covering your wounds, barely stopping the bleeding. The powder is poured over your wounds. Slowly stop your bleeding.
The other officer checks your pulse, “Pulse is barely there.” She then checks your skull, looking at the blood that cakes your face, she radios in, “Also possible head injury, we need an EMT asap.”
The ambulance siren wails as it pulls into the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and cars move quickly to and from the ambulance, dropping off other victims from the shooting. The EMT hops out of the car, leaving it on, quickly opening the doors of the back of the ambulance. The 2 doctors in the bay, triaging patients, freeze when they see you.
“Holy shit..” The man gasps, looking at you cacked in blood, blood drying around your mouth, eyes, everywhere blood should not be able to reach. Without thinking, he slaps a red wristband onto your wrist. Pointing towards the entrance to the emergency department.
The EMT rolls you quickly into the emergency department, shouting out your information, stopping right in front of a doctor. “Unresponsive unknown female, mid to late twenties, unknown downtime, found on the mainstage, GSW to the right thigh, breast, and abdomen, and possible head injury.”
“Jesus.” The old man mutters. He looks you up and down, your unconscious body covered with your own blood. Bruises are scattered around your face.
A female surgeon walks towards a small crowd of doctors surrounding you, a doctor drilling a port into your arm, attaching an IV to it. She hisses when she looks at your injuries. She points to the two wounds, “Nipple to navel.”
“No man's land.” He says, while they roll you into trauma two. Preparing for the worst.
“Okay, 1, 2 lift.” The team of doctors lifts your body and lays you on the bed. One of the doctors rolls you onto your side, assessing the gunshots. All through, the bullet wounds are through and through.
Dr. Robby walks into the trauma room, “Jesus.” He mutters under his breath, and he quickly walks over to your side. You are barely breathing. “Okay, let’s do a chest tube.”
“But how do we know if she actually has one?” Trinity asks.
“We don’t, but she probably does, bullet right through the breast, if she doesnt surgery fixes our mistake.” After that, the man quickly walks out, rushing towards another injured festival attendee. “Dennis! We need extra hands in trauma two!” The student-doctor looks up from his patient, nodding and jogging towards trauma two.
“Hey, Robby said you need extra hands...” He says quickly as he walks into the trauma room. He freezes when he sees his co-workers working on you. “Holy shit…” He mumbles, snapping gloves on.
“Yes, famous girl, she's very injured too, so help us out.” Dr. Abbot says while he cuts an incision between your ribs, Trinity sticks a tube through the cut, and then a soft hissing sound, and then your vitals start to rise.
“Sorry, Dr Abbot,” Dennis mutters. He walks to the head of the bed, palpating your skull, and he feels swelling. He looks at your nose, and a light reflects from a liquid on your nose. Dennis falters, knowing what these signs are, “Uhm.. there are signs of a skull fracture.”
Trinity hisses, “Shit.”
“Thats surgerys issue, we just stabilize her.” Dr Abbot mutters while he packs your wounds on the abdomen. “Okay, this is as good as it will be. We can't spend any more time.” The man snaps off his gloves, walking out of the trauma room and towards the surgeon, to tell her you are ready for surgery.
By ten o'clock, the emergency department calms, and day shift doctors linger. Just finally wrapping up charting left unfinished before the mass casualty incident. Dennis sits in a chair, staring at the computer screen. The words conjoin into one long, unreadable sentence. He lets out a long breath. Trinity walks by, “You heading out anytime soon?”
“Uhm, yeah, once I get this done,” Dennis says, not looking away from the screen.
“Kay.” She replies, walking out towards the waiting room of the hospital.
You have been out of surgery for roughly an hour and a half now. Sun peaking softly through the blinds of your room in the ICU. The slow thump of your heart is reflecting onto the monitor, the beep turning into a hum in the background. Dennis sits in a chair right next to you laying in the hospital bed, holding your hand softly. The ventilator is breathing for you, with a tube sticking out of your mouth, connecting to a machine. IV’s sticking out from every vein the doctors could access has a port sticking out of it. Your skin is not as bright as it normally is. A bandage is around your head. Dennis takes the image in, you look small. Tears threaten to fall, but he forces them not to. He thinks about how he can’t cry, after all the hurt and embarrassment you made him face when you left. He wanted to believe he was okay, that even he doesn't have to think about you now, even though right now, you're at your worst. He knows when you wake up, it’ll only be worse. He wants to believe he doesn't love you anymore, but he knows that he has, and always will love you, even if you do not want his love anymore.
Dennis doesn't dare to speak out loud or move, thinking that if he disrupts this silence, you may stop breathing. He knows that if you were to wake up and see him here, you would ask him to go. He wants to stay till you wake up, get the tube out of your mouth, and then those words will come out, and he will leave. He would do anything for you. If it meant you were happy, he would cross the country on foot.
Disrupting his spiraling, a soft cough comes from the door. Three people stand there. “Uhm..”
Dennis quickly stands up from the chair, dusting off imaginary crumbs, attempting to make himself look presentable, though the eye bags and look of panic make him look more endearing. “M’sorry, I uhm- Im Dennis, I went to high school with,” He motions towards you, “N’ I also was one of her doctors, so I decided to keep her company since I didn't know if anyone would come, or come this fast.”
Manon interprets his tangent, “Yeah, we know who you are, we came as soon as we heard on the news, can you tell us what happened?”
“Oh- well, uhm, when she came in, she had three gunshot wounds, a cracked skull. She had a collapsed lung because she had two gunshot wounds on her abdomen, one right above her navel, and then one right below the breast. She also had a lot of blood loss, so we had to give her blood. The crack on her skull looks minor from the scans that were done, but we are keeping an eye on it.” Dennis goes straight into doctor mode, trying to explain your injuries as simply as possible.
The three people in front of him have tears in their eyes, “W-well, is she gonna be okay?”
Dennis sucks in a breath, “That’s uh, well, she will be okay physically, but she may have some mental deficits. You know- im gonna go get her doctor to explain all of this to you.” Dennis quickly exits the room, closing the door behind him. The cries of your friends can still be heard from down the hall.
A/N: I did actually rewrite this a couple times cause it was hard to figure out what made sense. But I enjoyed writing this, wish it was longer but it's fineee. Im probably not starting the next chapter till the weekend starts cause im pretty busy the next couple of days.
Read this extra parts will make more sense for the future chapters
Summary: After being shot at Pittfest. You are not in great condition, your friends and doctors work hard to stay strong and save your life.
CW: Graphic violence, blood and gore, near-death experience, Medical trauma / emergency treatment (ICU, surgery, life support), Mass casualty event, Emotional distress and panic, mentions of potential death, injury to multiple characters
“Bow… you have to… wake…. Keep your eyes open, okay.” Your ears ring, over the ringing, a voice says in an unsteady voice, you open your eyes slowly, vision blurred over. You can make out the figure in front of you. The moonlight is casting a soft glow over them.
“Den-,” You attempt to say his name, but as you begin your sentence, you cough up blood.
“Shh dont try to talk, okay? S’me Jess.” Your vision clears a little; the lines of her face, her dark eyes, and her soft blonde hair are the only things you can make out. You feel a tight pressure around your upper thigh; it's only getting tighter. You whimper out in pain, “You’re bleeding, I have to stop it.”
“W-what d’you mean? Wh- where am I?” You try to push yourself up off the stage, but your body refuses, pain shocking your system. You groan, blood gushing out of the 3 gunshot wounds.
“Were at Pittfest, you got hurt while performing.” She takes a shaky breath, takes off her shirt, and presses it on the wound just above your navel, “Were gonna get you some help, okay?” You scream out when she presses harder on your wound.
“W- are you hurt?”
She looks down at her calf, a wound going through and through, pulsing in pain every time she adjusts her weight to keep the blood inside your body. “M’fine.”
Your eyelids begin to weigh thousands of pounds, slowly drooping lower and lower, threatening to close, “N… Bow… No. sta… wake… f… me..” You hear her scream for help, though it is muffled by you slowly drifting off, eyelids nearly millimeters from closing, your skin growing colder by the second in her hands.
“Tell-” You begin to say, blood drying at the corners of your mouth, tears freely pouring down your face.
“No, no, no, tell them yourself, you're not dying.” She adjusts her weight, putting more pressure on your wounds. “No, not today, not tomorrow, or anytime soon.”
“Tell- tell Den- that im sorry.” You cough in between your sentences, “N’that I.. I still love him.”
“No, no your telling him that, cause your not dying.” Tears stream down her face, still looking around for help. “Where the fuck is a paramedic?” She yells out in panic and frustration. She continues to yell out for help while trying to keep your bleeding at bay. Even with your worsening vision, you can tell that her chest is heaving, up and down every fraction of a second. You move your hand, grabbing hold of her wrist. Her body jerks at the coldness of your hand.
“N-no one is coming.” Bringing your head up a little, the earth swaying left to right, you look her in the eye. “S’okay, m’fine, y-you’re hurt.” You bring your head down, every limb weighing thousands of pounds. As your eyelids finally get the relief of falling, you can hear Jess screaming, screaming for you or for help, you don't know.
You push your legs to run harder, faster across the vast farm land. “Im faster than you, Denny!” You yell out, not looking back at the young boy. You sprint past the invisible finish line, marked by a bloomed magnolia. You roll to the ground, laughing. A few seconds later, Dennis catches up, panting softly, walking towards you. He looks down at you lying in the grass.
“No fair,” The boy whines, lying on the ground next to you. “You are like 3 inches taller than me. I didn't even get a head start.”
“Well, maybe you should take this as a sign to grow your like 3 feet tall”
He gasps in offense, “Im only nine, I have years to grow.”
“Yeah, yeah.. Whatever.” You huff out. Looking up at the soft blue sky, the magnolia petals are getting pulled off the tree by the wind, falling towards your face. “Den?”
“Hm?” He looks at you.
“Do you think we will be friends when were grownups?” You ask.
He thinks for a minute, “I think that when we are grown up we will be the best of friends.” He smiles when he looks at you again. “And in every other universe, too.”
“Really?” You laugh, “Every other universe?”
“Every single universe.”
You and Dennis lay there in silence for a while, talking about random things, whatever came to mind, the sun blends from blue to soft hues of pink and orange. Out in the distance, you can hear Dennis’s name and your name being called for dinner. “Race you back?”
“Can I get a head start?” He asks standing up. Leaving his hand out to help you up.
“Okay, you get two seconds.” You grab his hand, standing up, and wipe off remnants of grass clipping off your pants.
“Oh, come on, at least five.” He whines
“No, three.” You look at him, crossing your arms.
Knowing he won't win this, he takes the 3 seconds and sprints off. You gasp, “You didn't even say when!” You yell out, chasing after him.
“Help! Someone- please help us!” Jess screams out. Tears are streaming down her face. Looking around, she sees no one around, not even another injured festival attendee. She starts to push herself up. Releasing pressure from your wounds. Limping towards the stairs to the stage. She groans when she makes it down the first step. Trying to walk-limp as fast as she can. Once she makes it off the stage and pushes past a barricade. She continues to limp across the festival. Minutes go by, tears falling down her face in splashes, staining her chest. The soft stinging coming from her calf turned into an intense stabbing pain, becoming impossible to ignore.
“Freeze!” Guns point at her, a hoard of police officers looking at her.
Her hands fly up, chest heaving, “Please, please help, my friend.” She says your name. “She was performing and she- she got shot. Please, please, she needs help.” An officer radios something, and one of them motion her to show them. She points towards the mainstage.
“Please be fast, she is bleeding a lot.” Two officers ran off in the direction Jess pointed to.
Another officer tells her to come with her. Jess wraps her arm around the officer's arm, limping away towards the exit.
Officers quickly scale the stage stairs, running towards your limp, bleeding body. “We have an unresponsive female on the mainstage, GSW to the right thigh, abdomen, and breast.” An officer sighs, reaching into their pocket, tearing open a quick-clot packet, removing the cloth covering your wounds, barely stopping the bleeding. The powder is poured over your wounds. Slowly stop your bleeding.
The other officer checks your pulse, “Pulse is barely there.” She then checks your skull, looking at the blood that cakes your face, she radios in, “Also possible head injury, we need an EMT asap.”
The ambulance siren wails as it pulls into the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and cars move quickly to and from the ambulance, dropping off other victims from the shooting. The EMT hops out of the car, leaving it on, quickly opening the doors of the back of the ambulance. The 2 doctors in the bay, triaging patients, freeze when they see you.
“Holy shit..” The man gasps, looking at you cacked in blood, blood drying around your mouth, eyes, everywhere blood should not be able to reach. Without thinking, he slaps a red wristband onto your wrist. Pointing towards the entrance to the emergency department.
The EMT rolls you quickly into the emergency department, shouting out your information, stopping right in front of a doctor. “Unresponsive unknown female, mid to late twenties, unknown downtime, found on the mainstage, GSW to the right thigh, breast, and abdomen, and possible head injury.”
“Jesus.” The old man mutters. He looks you up and down, your unconscious body covered with your own blood. Bruises are scattered around your face.
A female surgeon walks towards a small crowd of doctors surrounding you, a doctor drilling a port into your arm, attaching an IV to it. She hisses when she looks at your injuries. She points to the two wounds, “Nipple to navel.”
“No man's land.” He says, while they roll you into trauma two. Preparing for the worst.
“Okay, 1, 2 lift.” The team of doctors lifts your body and lays you on the bed. One of the doctors rolls you onto your side, assessing the gunshots. All through, the bullet wounds are through and through.
Dr. Robby walks into the trauma room, “Jesus.” He mutters under his breath, and he quickly walks over to your side. You are barely breathing. “Okay, let’s do a chest tube.”
“But how do we know if she actually has one?” Trinity asks.
“We don’t, but she probably does, bullet right through the breast, if she doesnt surgery fixes our mistake.” After that, the man quickly walks out, rushing towards another injured festival attendee. “Dennis! We need extra hands in trauma two!” The student-doctor looks up from his patient, nodding and jogging towards trauma two.
“Hey, Robby said you need extra hands...” He says quickly as he walks into the trauma room. He freezes when he sees his co-workers working on you. “Holy shit…” He mumbles, snapping gloves on.
“Yes, famous girl, she's very injured too, so help us out.” Dr. Abbot says while he cuts an incision between your ribs, Trinity sticks a tube through the cut, and then a soft hissing sound, and then your vitals start to rise.
“Sorry, Dr Abbot,” Dennis mutters. He walks to the head of the bed, palpating your skull, and he feels swelling. He looks at your nose, and a light reflects from a liquid on your nose. Dennis falters, knowing what these signs are, “Uhm.. there are signs of a skull fracture.”
Trinity hisses, “Shit.”
“Thats surgerys issue, we just stabilize her.” Dr Abbot mutters while he packs your wounds on the abdomen. “Okay, this is as good as it will be. We can't spend any more time.” The man snaps off his gloves, walking out of the trauma room and towards the surgeon, to tell her you are ready for surgery.
By ten o'clock, the emergency department calms, and day shift doctors linger. Just finally wrapping up charting left unfinished before the mass casualty incident. Dennis sits in a chair, staring at the computer screen. The words conjoin into one long, unreadable sentence. He lets out a long breath. Trinity walks by, “You heading out anytime soon?”
“Uhm, yeah, once I get this done,” Dennis says, not looking away from the screen.
“Kay.” She replies, walking out towards the waiting room of the hospital.
You have been out of surgery for roughly an hour and a half now. Sun peaking softly through the blinds of your room in the ICU. The slow thump of your heart is reflecting onto the monitor, the beep turning into a hum in the background. Dennis sits in a chair right next to you laying in the hospital bed, holding your hand softly. The ventilator is breathing for you, with a tube sticking out of your mouth, connecting to a machine. IV’s sticking out from every vein the doctors could access has a port sticking out of it. Your skin is not as bright as it normally is. A bandage is around your head. Dennis takes the image in, you look small. Tears threaten to fall, but he forces them not to. He thinks about how he can’t cry, after all the hurt and embarrassment you made him face when you left. He wanted to believe he was okay, that even he doesn't have to think about you now, even though right now, you're at your worst. He knows when you wake up, it’ll only be worse. He wants to believe he doesn't love you anymore, but he knows that he has, and always will love you, even if you do not want his love anymore.
Dennis doesn't dare to speak out loud or move, thinking that if he disrupts this silence, you may stop breathing. He knows that if you were to wake up and see him here, you would ask him to go. He wants to stay till you wake up, get the tube out of your mouth, and then those words will come out, and he will leave. He would do anything for you. If it meant you were happy, he would cross the country on foot.
Disrupting his spiraling, a soft cough comes from the door. Three people stand there. “Uhm..”
Dennis quickly stands up from the chair, dusting off imaginary crumbs, attempting to make himself look presentable, though the eye bags and look of panic make him look more endearing. “M’sorry, I uhm- Im Dennis, I went to high school with,” He motions towards you, “N’ I also was one of her doctors, so I decided to keep her company since I didn't know if anyone would come, or come this fast.”
Manon interprets his tangent, “Yeah, we know who you are, we came as soon as we heard on the news, can you tell us what happened?”
“Oh- well, uhm, when she came in, she had three gunshot wounds, a cracked skull. She had a collapsed lung because she had two gunshot wounds on her abdomen, one right above her navel, and then one right below the breast. She also had a lot of blood loss, so we had to give her blood. The crack on her skull looks minor from the scans that were done, but we are keeping an eye on it.” Dennis goes straight into doctor mode, trying to explain your injuries as simply as possible.
The three people in front of him have tears in their eyes, “W-well, is she gonna be okay?”
Dennis sucks in a breath, “That’s uh, well, she will be okay physically, but she may have some mental deficits. You know- im gonna go get her doctor to explain all of this to you.” Dennis quickly exits the room, closing the door behind him. The cries of your friends can still be heard from down the hall.
A/N: I did actually rewrite this a couple times cause it was hard to figure out what made sense. But I enjoyed writing this, wish it was longer but it's fineee. Im probably not starting the next chapter till the weekend starts cause im pretty busy the next couple of days.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A/N: Planning on releasing the next chapter Wednesday or Tuesday... I need to figure out how the rest of this series will work. I wasn't sure what to add here but I hope you like this cause I like writing the social media parts
A/N: Planning on releasing the next chapter Wednesday or Tuesday... I need to figure out how the rest of this series will work. I wasn't sure what to add here but I hope you like this cause I like writing the social media parts
Summary: After fainting during your practice before pittfest, you run into the one man you thought you would never see again; Dennis. Though it turns out exactly how you thought it would.
Content warnings: Medical inaccuracies, gun violence and active shooter situation, severe physical injury, blood and implied gore, medical emergencies, emotional distress and panic, trauma and shock Past relationship conflict and emotional confrontation, themes of abandonment and regret, NOT PROOFREAD (I literally can't read my own work without cringing), grammar mistakes
You stand on the large stage, breathing labored, taking in deep breaths, knees on your thighs, bending slightly over. The warm September air mixed with the heavy dancing is taking a toll on your body. Your vision is fuzzy, only slightly; you barely process it. Focusing on your choreographer, Theo, walking you through the dance.
“Okay then is 1, 2, 3, ba, ba bam.” He demonstrates the move of rolling your hips, hand on the band of his sweatpants, and hopping slightly forward.
You copy the move, every slightly off beat. You groan. Lying on the stage floor. Taking a deep, frustrated breath, “What time is it?” You stare up in the direction of where Theo stands, the sun beaming into your eyes, making the dizziness and newley, nausea worse.
Theo looks at his phone. “9:08 am, okay, how about we go over this one more time, then we can take 15 and take everything from the top?”
You groan at the thought of doing the full hour and a half of dancing, “Yeah, okay.” You run a hand over your face, wiping away beads of sweat pooling around your hairline. You hold out your hand, and Theo helps you up.
“Can’t believe its already 80 degrees out.”
“Its end of september it should be cooler.” You groan. Going over the moves that were previously demonstrated. Your stomach churns when you jump; you hold it down. Knowing if you do throw up, it would be nothing but stomach acid. You drill your eyes shut, focusing on the dance.
After 5 minutes, you get the dance break correct. “Okay, let's take 15,” Theo says, patting your shoulder. You walk over to your water bottle, taking 2 sips of water before setting it down. You sit in the middle of the catwalk. Looking back towards the rest of the stage. People are bustling around you to get the stage set up before your performance in twelve hours. Theo works with your backup dancers on the dance break. A spot is empty, marking the place where they would be surrounding you. You open your phone, going straight to messages.
Theo walks up to where you sit, criss-cross, on the catwalk. You look up from your screen, shutting it off. “Breaks over already?” you ask.
“Yup, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get you to hair and makeup. Jess is freaking out.” He replies, walking away from you. When you stand up to walk with him, the world isnt so straight or stable anymore. Screwing your eyes shut, you put your hands on your hips for balance. “You good?” Theo asks when he turns around, realizing you hadn’t caught up with him.
“Just dandy.” You answer, the dizziness passes, and you catch up with him. “From the start?”
“From the start.” He repeats, you groan. You walk backstage, picking up your mic pack, clipping it on the band of your sweatpants. You place your in-ears inside your ears. The world is silent. You take a deep breath in and out. The nausea has made itself comfortable in the pit of your stomach and is fading slowly into the back of your head. Walking back out on stage, the sun gleams into your eyes. You squint. Take your place in the middle of the stage. From your in-ears, Jess speaks to you.
“Okay were gonna start from the top, so MIA.”
You nod, waiting for you inears to start the metronome, as it does, dancers start frantically running around, sirens blaring, the metronome starts, you wait for your cue. Once your cue is introduced. Your body moves to the beat. After weeks of practicing, it’s now muscle memory.
You make it 30 minutes in, running through the whole set. Now, on 2 hands, dancers move around you. Dancing energetically, while you are exhausted, to everyone else, they think you are saving your energy for the real thing. You make it to the dance break, and the base has been made more intense for the festival. The vibrations thump your body, your bones, and your head. Making you more nauseous. You hand your microphone to the dancer to the left of you. You dance to the beat, jumping up and then down. Moving slightly off beat. You groan, feeling sweat roll down your back. You push through the dance break. Your vision blurs around the corners, the world tipping ever so slightly. Throwing you off balance as you reach for your microphone. Your body sweats intensely, though you shiver, feeling ice cold. You stop dancing, your vision completely gone.
Right before you fall, you say, “I think im gonna-”
Then you go down. Your head thuds on the ground. The dancers around you freeze, mid-movement. Then the music stops. Dancers surround you, attempting to shake you awake.
“Somebody call for an ambulance!” One of them yells out. The crowd surrounding you grows.
The Emergency department is bustling, nurses and doctors walking from room to room. The bright red phone rings at the nurses' station. Dana walks over to it, picking it up and placing it to her ear. She listens to the paramedic, hanging up she yells out, “Robby, we have an artist from Pittfest coming in! 3 minutes out.” She calls out to the man walking out of the trauma room.
“Really? Who?” He walks over to the nurses' station, pumping the hand sanitizer.
“Not sure, we shall see.”
As if summoning your presence, a few seconds later, you roll in. On a stretcher, looking mildly inconvenienced. The paramedics say your full name, “27, fainted while rehearsing for Pittfest. Didn't wake up till we were on our way in the ambulance.”
“Truama 2 is open!” Dana yells out.
Robby yells for Langdon and Mel.
“Im fine, really, like I just pushed myself too hard.” You say, unclipping the mic pack that was left on you, and handing it to Jess.
Your assistant replies, “Yeah, well your here because we need to fix whatever happened before you can go on stage.”
You roll your eyes, a nurse next to you, with surprisingly good hair, sticks you with a needle, and connects it to an IV.
Robby walks up towards the side of the bed, shining a light in your eyes, and then placing a finger in front of your face, moving it left to right, you follow it. “When was the last time you had a proper meal and something to drink?”
You think, yesterday you were rehearsing all day, you had something small and some water, the day before you were flying out to Pittsburgh. “Maybe like Wednesday, or Tuesday…”
“Well that’lll do it. I'll have a nurse get you something to eat, and were gonna give you an IV.” The man walks out of the room, leaving you with the nurse and 2 residents, and your assistant.
“Alright, mateo you got this right?” The man asks.
“Yeah, of course.” He answers. For a few seconds, it's silent before he tries to strike up a conversation. “So… you excited to perform at Pittfest?”
“Uhm yeah, I am, festivals are my favorite place to perform.” You answer, looking at Mateo. You and he continue to talk.
Outside of the trauma room, people walking past look into the room. When Victoria walks by and glances in, she freezes. Then speed walks away. Jaw on the floor, walking towards Trinity.
“Why is there a celebrity in Trauma 2?”
“Oh shit, really? Who?” She looks up from the computer.
“Bowey.”
“Really? Shit isnt she performing at Pittfest?”
“Yeah, I got tickets for it but I had to sell them.”
“Ohhh, crash is a fannn.” Trinity teases, “Go say hi to her.”
“First of all, stop calling me crash, and two, no im not saying. Hi shes obviously sick.”
Trinity walks to the TV looking for your name, “She fainted, she's fine, go say hi.”
Trinity and Victoria continue to bicker back and forth for a few more minutes. Before Robby comes by, “Okayy quit fangirling. Some people need treatment.”
Dennis turns the corner, walking by the trauma rooms, and he quickly glances towards the room you lie in. Briskly walking past the room, he does a double-take, making sure he saw what he really saw: you. His heart drops, he looks at you, nearly 10 years since you last saw each other. You’ve aged, not in a bad way, but in the best way possible. You're focused on your phone, texting your friends.
You feel someone staring at you. Dennis quickly walks away before you look up. You look into the hallway, and a nurse walks in.
“Hi im perlah, we need to clear the room, so were gonna move you to a different room.”
“Okay.”
When she starts moving the gurney out into the hallway, you look around at the people working, walking from place to place. Thinking about how, if you never left Broken Bow, you could’ve been working here. As you zone out, you make eye contact with Dennis, and your heart drops. Surprised that you see him, in Pittsburgh of all places. He’s staring at you, with just as much shock as you. But before you can say anything, you get rolled into a room. Perlah hands you a sandwich, “You need to eat.” She places a new IV next to you, connecting it to your port.
“Yes mamm.” You joke. Perlah smiles a little before exiting the room.
“Dennis!” Dana yells out, “Langdon is helping out with the trauma that just rolled in, you're taking south 15!”
“Okay!” He replies, grabbing a tablet, walking towards the room, “Hello ma’m im Doctor wh-” He says as he opens the door, looking up to see you.
“Dennis-” you look up from your phone, “I- what are you doing in Pittsburgh?”
“I work here...”
“Right…”
“Well, you're actually already to go, I'll get a nurse to give you the discharge papers and remove your IV.” He starts to walk towards the door.”
“Wait.” You say, “Can we talk?”
“What is there to talk about? You left me in Broken Bow, with just a letter, ghosted your mom. Do you know her house was foreclosed? You left, became famous, and never looked back. Are you even sorry?” His face is slightly red out of anger, though his voice doesn't rise.
“Dennis, I- im really sorry, Broken Bow wasn't where I was supposed to be.”
“You could’ve told me that.”
“Denny-” You start to talk
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”
“Dennis.” You fix what you were saying, “If I told you I was leaving, I would’ve never left, I stayed for you. But I knew that, I wouldn't- we wouldn't be happy if I stayed, I mean look at you-, you left Broken Bow, made it to Pittsburgh, and I made my dream real.”
Dennis sighs, “A nurse will be with you shortly, good luck with pittfest.” He walks out of the room.
“Fuck.” You groan, placing your hands over your face.
You Uber back to the festival, going straight to your dressing room. You sit down in the makeup chair. The makeup artist, Sophie, starts your makeup, prepping your skin. “You okay? You seem off.”
“Yeah, just a little off my game from fainting.” She hums, focusing on putting on her foundation.
It is silent after that. You scroll through Instagram for a few minutes. You start to think about the events of today, it being only 2:30. How you saw Dennis for the first time since 2017, how you left him in the worst way possible, you could tell after all these years, he is still hurt. The look on his face when he saw you for the first time. You think about how maybe you could’ve left differently, how telling him in person could’ve had the same outcome for your career, while still being with the man, to this day, you love with your whole heart.
“Close your eyes for me,” Sophie asks while she starts on your eye-makeup, brushing black eye shadow around your eyes, and silver eye shadow. She adds gems around your eyes and on your nose bridge. “Okay.” She starts on your lips, lining them with a lip pencil.
You start your vocal warmups after changing into your stage outfit. You stand in your green room, going over choreography, making last-minute tweaks. 1 hour till you go on stage, after getting your makeup done, time went by extremely fast.
You're on the carpeted floor, in the middle splits, arms stretched out in front of you, head resting on the carpet. Jess walks in, “You got 45 minutes till stage, Bowey!”
“Kay! Thank you, Jess!” You yell out, getting up from your position on the floor. You walk out of the green room, walking up the stairs, walking backstage. You wave at the sound techs, grabbing your in-ears, microphone, and mic pack. Someone helps you clip the pack to your shorts, securing it tightly so it won't fall off. You continue to stretch your body. Anxiety blooms in your stomach as time goes on, out of excitement but also fear that you will mess up on choreography or you might forget lyrics to your own song.
Sirens ring out from the speakers, and the crowd roars as the dancers run frantically around the stage. You walk out onto the stage, lights flashing into the darkness of the night, adrenaline pumps through your veins, and anxiety leaves your body. You start to sing.
You make it halfway through your concert. The music stops, you pull out your in-ears, hearing the crowd screaming, “Wow! Pittsburgh, you are so lively tonight, you might be better than Lolla..” You smile, walking towards the end of the catwalk, taking a sip of water. “Are you guys having fun tonight?” You ask, the crowd roars as an answer. You laugh, “Good because Im having so much fun! The night isn't over yet, I have a few more songs to perform! Now this next song… Is for the girls who still replay the memories with that one man, praying to god, for him back. My personal favoraite you guys ready for dear God?” You scream the last part. Placing your in-ears back in, you walk towards the middle of the catwalk, dancers surrounding you as the backtrack plays.
Lay there, back of my mind, he stay there
Pops up time to time like, "Hey there"
Haven't seen you in two years, but, baby, we still breathe the same air
You smile while singing the lyrics, dancers moving around you.
And I never used to be this person
But here I am
Hands on my chest and my knees on the carpet
Hopin' you'll stop it
You make it halfway through the song, having the time of your life, singing a song about the man you love, pleading for him to come back.
Dear God, I hope you're listenin'
(I play 'em all, I play 'em all, I play 'em all, I play 'em all back)
I pray it ain't him I'm missin'
Dear God, I hope you're listenin'
You look out towards the crowd, people look confused, behind the crowd, people are running, sprinting. You take out your in-ears, and the music stops. You hear loud fireworks like pops, and the crowd begins to disperse, screaming, yelling, and running towards the exits of the festival. You see people go down, blood coming from their abdomens, legs, arms, anywhere the shooter could get. You stand there. The dancers who were once around you are now gone, with the crowd. You feel a stinging in your gut, and you look down. A hole right above your belly button, blood spilling out of it. You gasp. Felling 3 more shots to your body. One in your thigh, your arm, and then right to your chest. You only feel stinging, the adrenaline from panicking and earlier performing, masking the pain, turning it into a stinging sensation.
“Oh, dear god.” You murmur to yourself, trying to stop the bleeding. The world around you tilts, vision blurring. A sense of deja vu comes over you, being in the same situation just hours before. Your legs give out, and your body is unable to support itself anymore. Your head is on the floor with a Crack. Tears stream down your face, leaving small marks where they removed your makeup. Your eyes can only look up at the dark sky, attempting to stay awake. Your eyelids are heavy. The last thing you murmur before darkness takes you.
“Dear god.”
A/N: I was gonna combine the next 2 chapters but I decided I wanted a teeny tiny cliffhanger, also cause this would've been hard to write and I wanted to take my time with the next chapter! I had fun writing this! Sorry for the cliffhanger but im gonna post an extra before the next chapter!
Y'all didn't tell me I was missing parts of the story... AND I WAS PUTTING THEM IN THE WRONG PARTS OMG IM GONNA CRY DUDEEE anywho go read it! the messages were in the wrong spots and was missing one.. im still sad but go read the new chapter it'll make me happy
Summary: After fainting during your practice before pittfest, you run into the one man you thought you would never see again; Dennis. Though it turns out exactly how you thought it would.
Content warnings: Medical inaccuracies, gun violence and active shooter situation, severe physical injury, blood and implied gore, medical emergencies, emotional distress and panic, trauma and shock Past relationship conflict and emotional confrontation, themes of abandonment and regret, NOT PROOFREAD (I literally can't read my own work without cringing), grammar mistakes
You stand on the large stage, breathing labored, taking in deep breaths, knees on your thighs, bending slightly over. The warm September air mixed with the heavy dancing is taking a toll on your body. Your vision is fuzzy, only slightly; you barely process it. Focusing on your choreographer, Theo, walking you through the dance.
“Okay then is 1, 2, 3, ba, ba bam.” He demonstrates the move of rolling your hips, hand on the band of his sweatpants, and hopping slightly forward.
You copy the move, every slightly off beat. You groan. Lying on the stage floor. Taking a deep, frustrated breath, “What time is it?” You stare up in the direction of where Theo stands, the sun beaming into your eyes, making the dizziness and newley, nausea worse.
Theo looks at his phone. “9:08 am, okay, how about we go over this one more time, then we can take 15 and take everything from the top?”
You groan at the thought of doing the full hour and a half of dancing, “Yeah, okay.” You run a hand over your face, wiping away beads of sweat pooling around your hairline. You hold out your hand, and Theo helps you up.
“Can’t believe its already 80 degrees out.”
“Its end of september it should be cooler.” You groan. Going over the moves that were previously demonstrated. Your stomach churns when you jump; you hold it down. Knowing if you do throw up, it would be nothing but stomach acid. You drill your eyes shut, focusing on the dance.
After 5 minutes, you get the dance break correct. “Okay, let's take 15,” Theo says, patting your shoulder. You walk over to your water bottle, taking 2 sips of water before setting it down. You sit in the middle of the catwalk. Looking back towards the rest of the stage. People are bustling around you to get the stage set up before your performance in twelve hours. Theo works with your backup dancers on the dance break. A spot is empty, marking the place where they would be surrounding you. You open your phone, going straight to messages.
Theo walks up to where you sit, criss-cross, on the catwalk. You look up from your screen, shutting it off. “Breaks over already?” you ask.
“Yup, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get you to hair and makeup. Jess is freaking out.” He replies, walking away from you. When you stand up to walk with him, the world isnt so straight or stable anymore. Screwing your eyes shut, you put your hands on your hips for balance. “You good?” Theo asks when he turns around, realizing you hadn’t caught up with him.
“Just dandy.” You answer, the dizziness passes, and you catch up with him. “From the start?”
“From the start.” He repeats, you groan. You walk backstage, picking up your mic pack, clipping it on the band of your sweatpants. You place your in-ears inside your ears. The world is silent. You take a deep breath in and out. The nausea has made itself comfortable in the pit of your stomach and is fading slowly into the back of your head. Walking back out on stage, the sun gleams into your eyes. You squint. Take your place in the middle of the stage. From your in-ears, Jess speaks to you.
“Okay were gonna start from the top, so MIA.”
You nod, waiting for you inears to start the metronome, as it does, dancers start frantically running around, sirens blaring, the metronome starts, you wait for your cue. Once your cue is introduced. Your body moves to the beat. After weeks of practicing, it’s now muscle memory.
You make it 30 minutes in, running through the whole set. Now, on 2 hands, dancers move around you. Dancing energetically, while you are exhausted, to everyone else, they think you are saving your energy for the real thing. You make it to the dance break, and the base has been made more intense for the festival. The vibrations thump your body, your bones, and your head. Making you more nauseous. You hand your microphone to the dancer to the left of you. You dance to the beat, jumping up and then down. Moving slightly off beat. You groan, feeling sweat roll down your back. You push through the dance break. Your vision blurs around the corners, the world tipping ever so slightly. Throwing you off balance as you reach for your microphone. Your body sweats intensely, though you shiver, feeling ice cold. You stop dancing, your vision completely gone.
Right before you fall, you say, “I think im gonna-”
Then you go down. Your head thuds on the ground. The dancers around you freeze, mid-movement. Then the music stops. Dancers surround you, attempting to shake you awake.
“Somebody call for an ambulance!” One of them yells out. The crowd surrounding you grows.
The Emergency department is bustling, nurses and doctors walking from room to room. The bright red phone rings at the nurses' station. Dana walks over to it, picking it up and placing it to her ear. She listens to the paramedic, hanging up she yells out, “Robby, we have an artist from Pittfest coming in! 3 minutes out.” She calls out to the man walking out of the trauma room.
“Really? Who?” He walks over to the nurses' station, pumping the hand sanitizer.
“Not sure, we shall see.”
As if summoning your presence, a few seconds later, you roll in. On a stretcher, looking mildly inconvenienced. The paramedics say your full name, “27, fainted while rehearsing for Pittfest. Didn't wake up till we were on our way in the ambulance.”
“Truama 2 is open!” Dana yells out.
Robby yells for Langdon and Mel.
“Im fine, really, like I just pushed myself too hard.” You say, unclipping the mic pack that was left on you, and handing it to Jess.
Your assistant replies, “Yeah, well your here because we need to fix whatever happened before you can go on stage.”
You roll your eyes, a nurse next to you, with surprisingly good hair, sticks you with a needle, and connects it to an IV.
Robby walks up towards the side of the bed, shining a light in your eyes, and then placing a finger in front of your face, moving it left to right, you follow it. “When was the last time you had a proper meal and something to drink?”
You think, yesterday you were rehearsing all day, you had something small and some water, the day before you were flying out to Pittsburgh. “Maybe like Wednesday, or Tuesday…”
“Well that’lll do it. I'll have a nurse get you something to eat, and were gonna give you an IV.” The man walks out of the room, leaving you with the nurse and 2 residents, and your assistant.
“Alright, mateo you got this right?” The man asks.
“Yeah, of course.” He answers. For a few seconds, it's silent before he tries to strike up a conversation. “So… you excited to perform at Pittfest?”
“Uhm yeah, I am, festivals are my favorite place to perform.” You answer, looking at Mateo. You and he continue to talk.
Outside of the trauma room, people walking past look into the room. When Victoria walks by and glances in, she freezes. Then speed walks away. Jaw on the floor, walking towards Trinity.
“Why is there a celebrity in Trauma 2?”
“Oh shit, really? Who?” She looks up from the computer.
“Bowey.”
“Really? Shit isnt she performing at Pittfest?”
“Yeah, I got tickets for it but I had to sell them.”
“Ohhh, crash is a fannn.” Trinity teases, “Go say hi to her.”
“First of all, stop calling me crash, and two, no im not saying. Hi shes obviously sick.”
Trinity walks to the TV looking for your name, “She fainted, she's fine, go say hi.”
Trinity and Victoria continue to bicker back and forth for a few more minutes. Before Robby comes by, “Okayy quit fangirling. Some people need treatment.”
Dennis turns the corner, walking by the trauma rooms, and he quickly glances towards the room you lie in. Briskly walking past the room, he does a double-take, making sure he saw what he really saw: you. His heart drops, he looks at you, nearly 10 years since you last saw each other. You’ve aged, not in a bad way, but in the best way possible. You're focused on your phone, texting your friends.
You feel someone staring at you. Dennis quickly walks away before you look up. You look into the hallway, and a nurse walks in.
“Hi im perlah, we need to clear the room, so were gonna move you to a different room.”
“Okay.”
When she starts moving the gurney out into the hallway, you look around at the people working, walking from place to place. Thinking about how, if you never left Broken Bow, you could’ve been working here. As you zone out, you make eye contact with Dennis, and your heart drops. Surprised that you see him, in Pittsburgh of all places. He’s staring at you, with just as much shock as you. But before you can say anything, you get rolled into a room. Perlah hands you a sandwich, “You need to eat.” She places a new IV next to you, connecting it to your port.
“Yes mamm.” You joke. Perlah smiles a little before exiting the room.
“Dennis!” Dana yells out, “Langdon is helping out with the trauma that just rolled in, you're taking south 15!”
“Okay!” He replies, grabbing a tablet, walking towards the room, “Hello ma’m im Doctor wh-” He says as he opens the door, looking up to see you.
“Dennis-” you look up from your phone, “I- what are you doing in Pittsburgh?”
“I work here...”
“Right…”
“Well, you're actually already to go, I'll get a nurse to give you the discharge papers and remove your IV.” He starts to walk towards the door.”
“Wait.” You say, “Can we talk?”
“What is there to talk about? You left me in Broken Bow, with just a letter, ghosted your mom. Do you know her house was foreclosed? You left, became famous, and never looked back. Are you even sorry?” His face is slightly red out of anger, though his voice doesn't rise.
“Dennis, I- im really sorry, Broken Bow wasn't where I was supposed to be.”
“You could’ve told me that.”
“Denny-” You start to talk
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”
“Dennis.” You fix what you were saying, “If I told you I was leaving, I would’ve never left, I stayed for you. But I knew that, I wouldn't- we wouldn't be happy if I stayed, I mean look at you-, you left Broken Bow, made it to Pittsburgh, and I made my dream real.”
Dennis sighs, “A nurse will be with you shortly, good luck with pittfest.” He walks out of the room.
“Fuck.” You groan, placing your hands over your face.
You Uber back to the festival, going straight to your dressing room. You sit down in the makeup chair. The makeup artist, Sophie, starts your makeup, prepping your skin. “You okay? You seem off.”
“Yeah, just a little off my game from fainting.” She hums, focusing on putting on her foundation.
It is silent after that. You scroll through Instagram for a few minutes. You start to think about the events of today, it being only 2:30. How you saw Dennis for the first time since 2017, how you left him in the worst way possible, you could tell after all these years, he is still hurt. The look on his face when he saw you for the first time. You think about how maybe you could’ve left differently, how telling him in person could’ve had the same outcome for your career, while still being with the man, to this day, you love with your whole heart.
“Close your eyes for me,” Sophie asks while she starts on your eye-makeup, brushing black eye shadow around your eyes, and silver eye shadow. She adds gems around your eyes and on your nose bridge. “Okay.” She starts on your lips, lining them with a lip pencil.
You start your vocal warmups after changing into your stage outfit. You stand in your green room, going over choreography, making last-minute tweaks. 1 hour till you go on stage, after getting your makeup done, time went by extremely fast.
You're on the carpeted floor, in the middle splits, arms stretched out in front of you, head resting on the carpet. Jess walks in, “You got 45 minutes till stage, Bowey!”
“Kay! Thank you, Jess!” You yell out, getting up from your position on the floor. You walk out of the green room, walking up the stairs, walking backstage. You wave at the sound techs, grabbing your in-ears, microphone, and mic pack. Someone helps you clip the pack to your shorts, securing it tightly so it won't fall off. You continue to stretch your body. Anxiety blooms in your stomach as time goes on, out of excitement but also fear that you will mess up on choreography or you might forget lyrics to your own song.
Sirens ring out from the speakers, and the crowd roars as the dancers run frantically around the stage. You walk out onto the stage, lights flashing into the darkness of the night, adrenaline pumps through your veins, and anxiety leaves your body. You start to sing.
You make it halfway through your concert. The music stops, you pull out your in-ears, hearing the crowd screaming, “Wow! Pittsburgh, you are so lively tonight, you might be better than Lolla..” You smile, walking towards the end of the catwalk, taking a sip of water. “Are you guys having fun tonight?” You ask, the crowd roars as an answer. You laugh, “Good because Im having so much fun! The night isn't over yet, I have a few more songs to perform! Now this next song… Is for the girls who still replay the memories with that one man, praying to god, for him back. My personal favoraite you guys ready for dear God?” You scream the last part. Placing your in-ears back in, you walk towards the middle of the catwalk, dancers surrounding you as the backtrack plays.
Lay there, back of my mind, he stay there
Pops up time to time like, "Hey there"
Haven't seen you in two years, but, baby, we still breathe the same air
You smile while singing the lyrics, dancers moving around you.
And I never used to be this person
But here I am
Hands on my chest and my knees on the carpet
Hopin' you'll stop it
You make it halfway through the song, having the time of your life, singing a song about the man you love, pleading for him to come back.
Dear God, I hope you're listenin'
(I play 'em all, I play 'em all, I play 'em all, I play 'em all back)
I pray it ain't him I'm missin'
Dear God, I hope you're listenin'
You look out towards the crowd, people look confused, behind the crowd, people are running, sprinting. You take out your in-ears, and the music stops. You hear loud fireworks like pops, and the crowd begins to disperse, screaming, yelling, and running towards the exits of the festival. You see people go down, blood coming from their abdomens, legs, arms, anywhere the shooter could get. You stand there. The dancers who were once around you are now gone, with the crowd. You feel a stinging in your gut, and you look down. A hole right above your belly button, blood spilling out of it. You gasp. Felling 3 more shots to your body. One in your thigh, your arm, and then right to your chest. You only feel stinging, the adrenaline from panicking and earlier performing, masking the pain, turning it into a stinging sensation.
“Oh, dear god.” You murmur to yourself, trying to stop the bleeding. The world around you tilts, vision blurring. A sense of deja vu comes over you, being in the same situation just hours before. Your legs give out, and your body is unable to support itself anymore. Your head is on the floor with a Crack. Tears stream down your face, leaving small marks where they removed your makeup. Your eyes can only look up at the dark sky, attempting to stay awake. Your eyelids are heavy. The last thing you murmur before darkness takes you.
“Dear god.”
A/N: I was gonna combine the next 2 chapters but I decided I wanted a teeny tiny cliffhanger, also cause this would've been hard to write and I wanted to take my time with the next chapter! I had fun writing this! Sorry for the cliffhanger but im gonna post an extra before the next chapter!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: You go on The Tonight show, you get interviewed my jimmy Fallon, and perform your latest song.
Masterlist & Part 1
CW: Language, suggestive content..? (Squint really really hard), slight talks of burn out and past relationships, inaccuracies to the tonight show (Timeline is pretty good tho, pittfest mention!!!, inaccurate to dancing (I literally just made up the whole performance and im not a dancer give me a break), grammar issues, sorta proofread (I skimmed over it)
WC: 2.4k
WAIT!!! Before you read this watch this music video I reference a lot of things such as costumes, dancing, and the song is performed so you should watch it, this chapter will make more sense if you do read it.
“Our next guest for tonight is an incredible performer, Grammy-nominated, who dropped their EP ‘Never text your ex after 2 am’.” Jimmy takes a breath, “Give it up for the incredibly talented Bowey!!” Jimmy reads off the teleprompter in front of him. The band starts playing upbeat music as you walk out of the royal-blue curtains.
You smile brightly, walking towards the man, hugging him. “How are you?” He asks while hugging you.
“Im good! Happy to be here.”
You both walk towards the interview area. You are sitting on the couch, and him sitting at his desk. “First of all, you just dropped your new EP. It’s absolutely fantastic. How does it feel for it to be out? He asks, you take a sip of water from the water bottle sitting on the table next to the couch.
“Honestly, it feels really good. I was working on both of my EP’s that have come out at the same time. Originally, it was gonna be a mini-album, but it just didn’t end up working out, so we decided on two EP’s. I worked really hard on them. It was really fun as well.”
“I think we could all tell.” He motions his hand towards the audience, “For it only being released for almost two weeks, on social media, it's gotten a lot of attention, for how different all 3 songs are, if you had to pick, which is your favorite?”
You suck a breath in, thinking hard, “That’s really hard, but I would say, ‘Dying for you’.” You think about who you wrote it about: Dennis. “That song got scrapped when I first wrote it back in god, probably like late 2019, early 2020?” You ask yourself.
“It was supposed to come out with your 2nd album?” He asks.
“Yeah, it was going to, but then they scrapped it. I love the song so much, but it got shelved.”
“Do we get to know who it's about…?” He looks at you.
“About my ex..” You cover your eyes with your hand. Peeking out through the cracks to the audience. A soft laughter comes from them. “That’s all im willing to say!” You smile a little, uncovering your eyes.
Jimmy laughs, “Okay, okay. How about we talk about Lollapolooza! You performed, I saw the videos of it, it was amazing!”
“I loved Lolla, it was great, the crowd was amazing! My team and I worked so hard preparing the whole thing to be perfect for you guys! Im so glad you enjoyed!” You look at the audience, facing your comment towards them. They cheer loudly.
“Wow, speaking of Lollapolooza! It’s not the only festival you’ll be performing in this year!”
“Yeah! Im performing at Pittfest this year! I really love doing festivals and stuff like that because of all the dancing I can incorporate. Any chance I get, I’ll add a lot.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Is that what brought you to music?”
You think for a minute, putting your thoughts in order. “Yes and no, I grew up in the middle of nowhere nebraska, I did dance, though it was only ballet.” You laugh, comparing the dancing you do now to ballet. “I really didn’t like it there. But I decided to stay, went to nursing school at the community college, the next town over.” You take a breath, reminiscing on the sour memories. “I wasn't good at it, but I stayed for a little while. I stayed for someone, but after a while, it really burnt me out. So I left. Afterwards, I lived in LA for a bit.” You laugh, “I did backup dancing, you could probably find me in a Coachella performance, actually. Jimmy laughs, “I released my first song independently on Soundcloud, and then got signed after it was discovered.”
“Wow, I wasn't expecting anything like that at all.”
“Yeah, but it gave me the experiences to write my music, it was worth it, wouldn't change a thing.” You say, but the one thing you would change is how you left Dennis. Maybe you would ask him to go with you, would he have gone? You don’t know, maybe he would’ve. You think about whether he’s still in Broken Bow or has left.
Jimmy decides to change the subject. “Okay, well, a few months ago, a photo was posted on Instagram.” Jimmy pulls out a photo of you on the set of Euphoria. You're walking around with Zendaya, unaware of the camera on you. She laughs at a joke you told her.
The audience cheers, “Oh my god.” You groan, “It’s been announced, so I guess.. I could talk about it.”
Jimmy cheers, so does the crowd and band, playing music. “Okay, perfect. How did this opportunity even come to you?”
“Well, Sam Levinson emailed my team, asking if I could come in to audition. I was so nervous cause I had never done acting like that before. So I go into the audition, completely unprepared, I literally can’t remember it, god, it was so humiliating. So I leave the audition thinking I won't get it. But then, they call my manager, saying they love me.”
“Wow, how was it working with people like Zendaya?” The man asks.
“It was amazing! I mean ther’ye all so kinda and humble about everything! If anything, when I showed up for set the first day, they were more excited to meet me. That was surprising cause I wasn't expecting an A-list celebrity to be excited to meet me.”
“Well, everyone loves your music.” Jimmy laughs, “Speaking of music, I thought we could play a game,” he points to a screen to the left of a teleprompter. “On that screen, a song title will come up, and a genre will too, and you have to sing that song with the genre.”
You let out a low whistle, you sit up straight, “Okay! I got this.” Cracking your knuckles, you look at the screen.
“Kiss me more- Doja Cat & Heavy metal” comes up, and the band starts to play the music. As you read the lyrics off the teleprompter, trying to meet the vibe, you start to laugh.
After the song ends, the audience cheers, Jimmy claps, “Stick around – Bowey will be performing right after the break!”
It cuts to comercial break, people start to move stuff off the stage to make room for your performance, and the audience dies down. You quickly thank Jimmy, then run behind the blue curtain. Quickly, you run to your dressing room. Changing into your outfit. Your assistant helps you into your black body suit and leather shorts. You put on your boots. She clips on your mic pack, handing you the in-ears. You place them in your ears. You slip into your bomber-racing jacket. Your makeup gets touched up quickly. They run you to the stage. As Jimmy introduces you. Dancers line both aisles of the audience, in racing uniforms to match your jacket.
Jimmy holds a photo of the cover of your EP, “Welcome back, everybody. Performing 2 hands, from her EP: Never text your ex after 2 am, please welcome Bowey!!!” The audience cheers. Jimmy walks off to the side of the set.
Backup dancers in full racing uniform fill the studio. Your in-ears start the metronome, and you sit on top of a sports car 2 backup dancers sit next to you. Your arms rest on either of their shoulders. You let the backtrack sing the intro, you take deep breaths in and out, to calm your nerves. Over your in-ears, you can softly hear the audience cheer.
I want your two hands
Don't ever let me go
I want your two hands
Two hands on me
Lights flash as the music starts, and the dancers in the aisle start to dance. Slowly moving down the aisle towards the stage. The dancer next to you holds the mic towards your mouth. The in-ears counting up, 1, 2, 3,4.
You don't need to tell me you love me
17 times in a day (yeah)
I don't need to hear I'm your number one
And everybody's second place
You don't gotta shit-talk your last girl
Sayin' she don't compare to me (yeah)
Baby, I ain't sayin' you don't know me well, it's
Just not the shit I need
As the dancers have finished going down the aisles, they move around your car, dancing to the beat. You stand on top of the orange sports car. The 2 dancers are now with the others.
'Cause they're just words, they don't mean much
(They don't mean much, no, no)
Need a little less talk
And a lot more touch
The lights flash as the chorus starts. You dance along with the backup dancers. Your in-ears are telling you about the upcoming chorus.
I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby
If you let go (I want your two hands)
Better put 'em right back, fast
Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah
Dancers help you out of the car, one holding your microphone while the other helps you jump out, holding your waist. The camera moves with you, and you stare at it; you move towards the aisle. Stopping to sing.
You ain't gonna win with the jewelry
Don't need the cute fuckin' names (no)
We don't gotta live out of hotels (mm-mm)
We could do it in my room all day
And I know you could spoil me plenty more
But I don't really trust that anymore
And I already got that bag for free (ah)
But if you bought it, then that's sweet (sweet)
Still, they're just things, they don't mean much
(They don't mean much, no, no)
Seen a real good thing
Turn to real fucked up (mm, ah)
The camera pans to a dancer sitting in the audience, in a full racer uniform, helmet and all. He stands up, dancing with you as you sing the chorus. You both move your bodies to the beat, basically circling each other.
I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby
If you let go (I want your two hands)
Better put 'em right back, fast
Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah
The dancer moves towards the stage where you once stood. The camera stays on you, dancing with energy and focus. Lights flash around you. You start to move back towards the stage.
'Cause I want 'em all to see
You look good on top of me
At this time at night, I need
Not one, not three (yeah)
Just your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah
You stand back on the car, and dancers surround the car in a circle, dancing around you. For the dance break, you don’t sing much, focusing on the dance.
I want your two hands (mm, whoa)
Don't ever let me go
I want your two hands
Two hands on me (oh)
I want your two hands
(Don't let me go) don't ever let me go
(I want your two hands) I want your two hands
(Better put 'em right back) two hands on me
You sit back down in the car, singing the end of the song. Dancing while sitting down, dancers still dancing around you.
I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby
If you let go (I want your two hands)
Better put 'em right back, fast (oh-oh)
Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah (like that, like that)
'Cause I want 'em all to see (yeah)
You look good on top of me
At this time at night, I need
Not one, not three
Just your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah (alright)
The lights go dark, the audience cheers, barely audible over your in-ears. You breathe heavy. After you catch your breath, you push yourself off the car walking backstage. You place the microphone down on the table, and someone helps you unclip your mic pack.
You walk into your dressing room. Shrugging off your leather jacket. Sweat covering every part of your body. You change into a pair of dark blue sweatpants, a white tank top, and a dark grey zip-up. You grab your phone, your bag.
Before you leave, you spot Jimmy walking towards you. “Wow, just wow! That was amazing.”
“Thank you! It was amazing to be on the show!”
You both say your thanks. Then, you and your manager make your way towards the stage door. Outside, fans wait. When you open the door, a few cameras flash from a few paparazzi. You smile, waving at the fans. You walk towards the gathering of people, fans stick out their hands, shirts, markers, anything you could sign. You slowly make your way down the line, signing things and taking photos with others. Your manager slowly pushes you along. Motioning towards the SUV waiting to take you back to your hotel room.
“I hope you all enjoyed the show!!” You yell out. Your fans cheer as you walk towards the SUV. waving one more time at the fans. You take a deep exhale once entering the car. Resting your head on the headrest.
A/N: I had a fun time writing this one cause now... it heats up a bit, some hint for a chapter coming soon... im gonna post some extras tomorrow or Friday like some insta posts and more gc.. I also might skew the timeline just a bit to make it more interesting, so if I do ill let y'all know!
Summary: You go on The Tonight show, you get interviewed my jimmy Fallon, and perform your latest song.
Masterlist Part 1 Part 3
CW: Language, suggestive content..? (Squint really really hard), slight talks of burn out and past relationships, inaccuracies to the tonight show (Timeline is pretty good tho, pittfest mention!!!, inaccurate to dancing (I literally just made up the whole performance and im not a dancer give me a break), grammar issues, sorta proofread (I skimmed over it)
WC: 2.4k
WAIT!!! Before you read this watch this music video I reference a lot of things such as costumes, dancing, and the song is performed so you should watch it, this chapter will make more sense if you do read it.
“Our next guest for tonight is an incredible performer, Grammy-nominated, who dropped their EP ‘Never text your ex after 2 am’.” Jimmy takes a breath, “Give it up for the incredibly talented Bowey!!” Jimmy reads off the teleprompter in front of him. The band starts playing upbeat music as you walk out of the royal-blue curtains.
You smile brightly, walking towards the man, hugging him. “How are you?” He asks while hugging you.
“Im good! Happy to be here.”
You both walk towards the interview area. You are sitting on the couch, and him sitting at his desk. “First of all, you just dropped your new EP. It’s absolutely fantastic. How does it feel for it to be out? He asks, you take a sip of water from the water bottle sitting on the table next to the couch.
“Honestly, it feels really good. I was working on both of my EP’s that have come out at the same time. Originally, it was gonna be a mini-album, but it just didn’t end up working out, so we decided on two EP’s. I worked really hard on them. It was really fun as well.”
“I think we could all tell.” He motions his hand towards the audience, “For it only being released for almost two weeks, on social media, it's gotten a lot of attention, for how different all 3 songs are, if you had to pick, which is your favorite?”
You suck a breath in, thinking hard, “That’s really hard, but I would say, ‘Dying for you’.” You think about who you wrote it about: Dennis. “That song got scrapped when I first wrote it back in god, probably like late 2019, early 2020?” You ask yourself.
“It was supposed to come out with your 2nd album?” He asks.
“Yeah, it was going to, but then they scrapped it. I love the song so much, but it got shelved.”
“Do we get to know who it's about…?” He looks at you.
“About my ex..” You cover your eyes with your hand. Peeking out through the cracks to the audience. A soft laughter comes from them. “That’s all im willing to say!” You smile a little, uncovering your eyes.
Jimmy laughs, “Okay, okay. How about we talk about Lollapolooza! You performed, I saw the videos of it, it was amazing!”
“I loved Lolla, it was great, the crowd was amazing! My team and I worked so hard preparing the whole thing to be perfect for you guys! Im so glad you enjoyed!” You look at the audience, facing your comment towards them. They cheer loudly.
“Wow, speaking of Lollapolooza! It’s not the only festival you’ll be performing in this year!”
“Yeah! Im performing at Pittfest this year! I really love doing festivals and stuff like that because of all the dancing I can incorporate. Any chance I get, I’ll add a lot.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Is that what brought you to music?”
You think for a minute, putting your thoughts in order. “Yes and no, I grew up in the middle of nowhere nebraska, I did dance, though it was only ballet.” You laugh, comparing the dancing you do now to ballet. “I really didn’t like it there. But I decided to stay, went to nursing school at the community college, the next town over.” You take a breath, reminiscing on the sour memories. “I wasn't good at it, but I stayed for a little while. I stayed for someone, but after a while, it really burnt me out. So I left. Afterwards, I lived in LA for a bit.” You laugh, “I did backup dancing, you could probably find me in a Coachella performance, actually. Jimmy laughs, “I released my first song independently on Soundcloud, and then got signed after it was discovered.”
“Wow, I wasn't expecting anything like that at all.”
“Yeah, but it gave me the experiences to write my music, it was worth it, wouldn't change a thing.” You say, but the one thing you would change is how you left Dennis. Maybe you would ask him to go with you, would he have gone? You don’t know, maybe he would’ve. You think about whether he’s still in Broken Bow or has left.
Jimmy decides to change the subject. “Okay, well, a few months ago, a photo was posted on Instagram.” Jimmy pulls out a photo of you on the set of Euphoria. You're walking around with Zendaya, unaware of the camera on you. She laughs at a joke you told her.
The audience cheers, “Oh my god.” You groan, “It’s been announced, so I guess.. I could talk about it.”
Jimmy cheers, so does the crowd and band, playing music. “Okay, perfect. How did this opportunity even come to you?”
“Well, Sam Levinson emailed my team, asking if I could come in to audition. I was so nervous cause I had never done acting like that before. So I go into the audition, completely unprepared, I literally can’t remember it, god, it was so humiliating. So I leave the audition thinking I won't get it. But then, they call my manager, saying they love me.”
“Wow, how was it working with people like Zendaya?” The man asks.
“It was amazing! I mean ther’ye all so kinda and humble about everything! If anything, when I showed up for set the first day, they were more excited to meet me. That was surprising cause I wasn't expecting an A-list celebrity to be excited to meet me.”
“Well, everyone loves your music.” Jimmy laughs, “Speaking of music, I thought we could play a game,” he points to a screen to the left of a teleprompter. “On that screen, a song title will come up, and a genre will too, and you have to sing that song with the genre.”
You let out a low whistle, you sit up straight, “Okay! I got this.” Cracking your knuckles, you look at the screen.
“Kiss me more- Doja Cat & Heavy metal” comes up, and the band starts to play the music. As you read the lyrics off the teleprompter, trying to meet the vibe, you start to laugh.
After the song ends, the audience cheers, Jimmy claps, “Stick around – Bowey will be performing right after the break!”
It cuts to comercial break, people start to move stuff off the stage to make room for your performance, and the audience dies down. You quickly thank Jimmy, then run behind the blue curtain. Quickly, you run to your dressing room. Changing into your outfit. Your assistant helps you into your black body suit and leather shorts. You put on your boots. She clips on your mic pack, handing you the in-ears. You place them in your ears. You slip into your bomber-racing jacket. Your makeup gets touched up quickly. They run you to the stage. As Jimmy introduces you. Dancers line both aisles of the audience, in racing uniforms to match your jacket.
Jimmy holds a photo of the cover of your EP, “Welcome back, everybody. Performing 2 hands, from her EP: Never text your ex after 2 am, please welcome Bowey!!!” The audience cheers. Jimmy walks off to the side of the set.
Backup dancers in full racing uniform fill the studio. Your in-ears start the metronome, and you sit on top of a sports car 2 backup dancers sit next to you. Your arms rest on either of their shoulders. You let the backtrack sing the intro, you take deep breaths in and out, to calm your nerves. Over your in-ears, you can softly hear the audience cheer.
I want your two hands
Don't ever let me go
I want your two hands
Two hands on me
Lights flash as the music starts, and the dancers in the aisle start to dance. Slowly moving down the aisle towards the stage. The dancer next to you holds the mic towards your mouth. The in-ears counting up, 1, 2, 3,4.
You don't need to tell me you love me
17 times in a day (yeah)
I don't need to hear I'm your number one
And everybody's second place
You don't gotta shit-talk your last girl
Sayin' she don't compare to me (yeah)
Baby, I ain't sayin' you don't know me well, it's
Just not the shit I need
As the dancers have finished going down the aisles, they move around your car, dancing to the beat. You stand on top of the orange sports car. The 2 dancers are now with the others.
'Cause they're just words, they don't mean much
(They don't mean much, no, no)
Need a little less talk
And a lot more touch
The lights flash as the chorus starts. You dance along with the backup dancers. Your in-ears are telling you about the upcoming chorus.
I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby
If you let go (I want your two hands)
Better put 'em right back, fast
Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah
Dancers help you out of the car, one holding your microphone while the other helps you jump out, holding your waist. The camera moves with you, and you stare at it; you move towards the aisle. Stopping to sing.
You ain't gonna win with the jewelry
Don't need the cute fuckin' names (no)
We don't gotta live out of hotels (mm-mm)
We could do it in my room all day
And I know you could spoil me plenty more
But I don't really trust that anymore
And I already got that bag for free (ah)
But if you bought it, then that's sweet (sweet)
Still, they're just things, they don't mean much
(They don't mean much, no, no)
Seen a real good thing
Turn to real fucked up (mm, ah)
The camera pans to a dancer sitting in the audience, in a full racer uniform, helmet and all. He stands up, dancing with you as you sing the chorus. You both move your bodies to the beat, basically circling each other.
I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby
If you let go (I want your two hands)
Better put 'em right back, fast
Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah
The dancer moves towards the stage where you once stood. The camera stays on you, dancing with energy and focus. Lights flash around you. You start to move back towards the stage.
'Cause I want 'em all to see
You look good on top of me
At this time at night, I need
Not one, not three (yeah)
Just your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah
You stand back on the car, and dancers surround the car in a circle, dancing around you. For the dance break, you don’t sing much, focusing on the dance.
I want your two hands (mm, whoa)
Don't ever let me go
I want your two hands
Two hands on me (oh)
I want your two hands
(Don't let me go) don't ever let me go
(I want your two hands) I want your two hands
(Better put 'em right back) two hands on me
You sit back down in the car, singing the end of the song. Dancing while sitting down, dancers still dancing around you.
I just want your two hands on me at all times, baby
If you let go (I want your two hands)
Better put 'em right back, fast (oh-oh)
Want your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah (like that, like that)
'Cause I want 'em all to see (yeah)
You look good on top of me
At this time at night, I need
Not one, not three
Just your two hands on me like my life needs savin'
Let 'em all know (I want your two hands)
Can you do it like that? Yeah (alright)
The lights go dark, the audience cheers, barely audible over your in-ears. You breathe heavy. After you catch your breath, you push yourself off the car walking backstage. You place the microphone down on the table, and someone helps you unclip your mic pack.
You walk into your dressing room. Shrugging off your leather jacket. Sweat covering every part of your body. You change into a pair of dark blue sweatpants, a white tank top, and a dark grey zip-up. You grab your phone, your bag.
Before you leave, you spot Jimmy walking towards you. “Wow, just wow! That was amazing.”
“Thank you! It was amazing to be on the show!”
You both say your thanks. Then, you and your manager make your way towards the stage door. Outside, fans wait. When you open the door, a few cameras flash from a few paparazzi. You smile, waving at the fans. You walk towards the gathering of people, fans stick out their hands, shirts, markers, anything you could sign. You slowly make your way down the line, signing things and taking photos with others. Your manager slowly pushes you along. Motioning towards the SUV waiting to take you back to your hotel room.
“I hope you all enjoyed the show!!” You yell out. Your fans cheer as you walk towards the SUV. waving one more time at the fans. You take a deep exhale once entering the car. Resting your head on the headrest.
A/N: I had a fun time writing this one cause now... it heats up a bit, some hint for a chapter coming soon... im gonna post some extras tomorrow or Friday like some insta posts and more gc.. I also might skew the timeline just a bit to make it more interesting, so if I do ill let y'all know!
Summary: You and Dennis are hopelessly involve, you decide to stay in Broken Bow, despite your dream is to leave and pursue music. You go into nursing, though you struggle through the first year. Making a life and relationship changing decision
CW: Depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, emotional distress parental neglect, academic stress, burnout, themes of isolation and loneliness, relationship conflict, abandonment, Not proof read, grammar mistakes.
WC: 3k
The sky is painted in hues of soft pink and purple, which slowly blends into the orange of the sun dropping below the horizon. “Denny?” You ask the man lying next to you, his arm hooked around your waist. You lie in the bed of your truck.
“Mm?” He answers
“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You roll over onto your stomach to look at the boy. He’s silent for a second. Barley thinking before answering.
“A doctor.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, remember that cow that went into labor n’ I had to help it give birth.” He looks at you
“Oh! I do, but it’s different from animals from humans to cows, Denny.”
He laughs, “I know that, just want to do something useful. What’d you wanna be?”
You think for a minute. School isn't exactly hard for you to do; you just don't enjoy it. You understand the topics, do well in school, but it’s just not fulfilling for you like it is for Dennis. You think your dream is to sing, leave broken bow, never look back, and sing, doesn't matter where. It’s all you want. “I want to be a singer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve heard me sing before, m’not half bad. I don't need fame, just singing, that’s all.” You say.
“I could see that.” He looks at the sunset. Sun nearly fully under the horizon.
“We would be a power couple.”
“Yeah?” He smiles
“Duhh, a doctor and a singer think about it.”
“That would be pretty cool,” Dennis replies.
You lay your chin on his chest, looking at him, “Do you think you’d ever leave?”
“If I get the chance, right now probably not. Why?”
“Just, we graduate in 3 months, im not going to college. I don’t have much here.. Just you, really. I was thinking about actually leaving.” You say, “Like, actually taking singing seriously, maybe move to California or something.”
Dennis thinks for a minute about you leaving. What he would do alone, what he would do without you? “You should go,” he says this quickly, though what he wants to say is, “Don't go, stay here, marry me, live on the farm with me, make music here.” He knows you wouldn’t stay, even if he begged. You’ve said it time and time again, Broken Bow has nothing for you, and it never will. Well, at least that was before you and Dennis started dating. Before he became the love of your life, before he was your best friend.
“Yeah, but it's unrealistic. I could go to community college. Get a degree in like nursing, i dont know. You could go there too! We could work in the same hospital. It would be like greys anatomy!”
“Yeah?” Dennis feels relieved, though that doesn't come alone; he has guilt for being relieved that you may not leave him. That you would do something unfulfilling to do something more ‘realistic’.
You walk across the stage, grabbing your diploma, shaking your principal's hand. As you walk back to your seat, among other graduates sitting, you spot Dennis. You beam, smiling ear to ear, mouthing “we did it!!” He smiles at you, mouthing, “I love you.”
Afterwards, you go find Dennis, sprinting up to him, jumping straight into his arms, kissing him. He smiles into the kiss.
“Congratulations, Baby.” He beams at you.
You swat at his chest. “D’you have amnesia? You just graduated, too! Congratulations to you, too, my love.”
He huffs a small laugh, “Thank you.”
“Have you seen my mom?” You ask dennis looking around puzzedly.
“No.. did she not come?”
“Yeah, probably.. S’fine.” Your voice faltered.
“M’sorry, baby, how bout this, you come to dinner with the rest of my family and me.”
“Would they mind?”
“Not at all, they love you.” He reassures you.
Your keys jingle as you unlock your front door, stepping inside your home, smelling softly of cigarette smoke. Taking off your shoes, “Mom?” You yell out. Walking around the house, you look for signs that she was here. Opening your phone, you look for a message from her. You send a message.
You: Where are you? Your car’s here, you missed my graduation. When will you be back?
You place your phone down, sitting on the couch with a sigh, still in your graduation gown. You look around the living room, furniture decades out of fashion, slightly yellowing. The wooden coffee table nailed back together over the decade of family game nights, turned into heated arguments. Turning on the TV to distract from the sweet and sour memories, SpongeBob reruns are playing.
For about 15 minutes, you pay attention, then you remember the text you sent to your mom, and you're still waiting for a reply. You open your phone, first looking at the photo of you and Dennis, you’re kissing his cheek, his face is scrunched up. You type in your password. The screen opens to your message
You: !Where are you? Your car’s here, you missed my graduation? When will you be back?
Your message could not be delivered
You sigh, deciding not to worry about it. Her phone is probably just dead; she’s out with that dude that keeps coming around. You reassure yourself. Focusing on the TV in front of you. Though in the back of your head, whispers of worry linger.
“Denny, s’to hard.” You sit on his bed, textbook resting in your lap. In the last 6 months, you and Dennis have both started college, you with nursing school, and Denny studying Pre-med. It started easily for you, getting CPR certified, studying vitals, but the one class getting you is anatomy. 206 bones in the body, muscles, and placements of nerves. The memorization is frying your brain. This isn't a class you can avoid; it's mandatory to graduate. Though the dread of graduating isn't too far. The community college nursing program, being two years long, is intimidating you.
Dennis takes a deep breath, “Okay, I have some flashcards, you just need to know the name and location. It's all memorization. But that can wait. It's nearly 1 am, let's take a break, yeah?” He takes the thick textbook out of your lap, closing it and placing it on his nightstand.
You lie down with him, his arm loosely wrapping around your waist. His breath slowly removes the weight from your chest, but the knot in your stomach stays, leaving your mind racing, unable let you think about one thing without thinking about how you're a failure, how you’ll never graduate, how you’ll never leave Broken Bow, how Dennis is better of without y-
“I love you, Bowey,” Dennis whispers.
“I love you too, Den.” You look at his sleep-ridden face, how peaceful and stress-free he is. Jealously looming over you, why can I be this happy?” You wonder.
You stay like that for a while, in silence. After a while, you open your phone to Instagram. You aimlessly scroll, seeing posts of your friends partying at their colleges far, far away from Broken Bow. Having the time of their life. Or on trips, backpacking across Europe. Every scroll gives you makes the sense of jealousy even stronger, for the fact that they're happy. While you’re miserable, studying for something in two years will only make you hate your life more. You begin to compare your life to theirs and Dennis’s, Dennis enjoying learning for his degree, making friends, and being comfortable with the fact that he may never leave Broken Bow. You look up at Dennis, now sleeping soundly. You decide to stay, for now, with him. The love you have for the man outweighs the pain you have for this town, for your life's trajectory.
Finals come and go, and with them, sadly, the anxiety decides to stay. A new habit has started, every day when your alarm goes off. Your body can barely get out of bed. 12 hours of sleep feels like two now for you. Lying in your bed, you look out of your window. Light reflects off the snow, right into your eyes. You squint, the light slowly giving you a headache. You cover your face with your blanket. Hoping that in 5 seconds, the ache will ease into a hum; something more manageable. On your bedside table, your phone buzzes. You flip the blanket off your face, huffing, and you pick up your phone. It’s Dennis. You pick up.
“Hello..?” You answer
“Hey! Just wondering if you’re coming over. You said you would be over today, so im just wondering.”
You’re confused for a minute, thinking it's 10 am, when really it’s 2 in the afternoon, nearly 3. Your alarm going off at 10 am is something you can clearly remember. How long were you just lying here? “Yeah, uhm ill be right there, can we get lunch or something?” You roll out of your bed. Picking up a hoodie off your floor and a pair of sweatpants.
“Yeah, of course! Love you!” He says happily.
“Love you too, be there in ten.” You yawn.
Dennis is worried about you, to say the least. He’s seen how you barely speak unless spoken to, or how you don’t eat as much, how you can sleep for hour upon hours and then still be tired. At first, he thought it was the transition between highschool to college. But now it’s February, he's worried that you may hurt yourself. You barely talk to him anymore. When he finally gets you to come over, he decides to confront you.
Dennis hears the front door open. You walk inside, slipping off your shoes, and walking upstairs towards his room. Once you walk in, he embraces you in a hug. You lightly hug him back, sighing into the hug.
You and he end up watching a movie. It hums in the background. Your laying on his chest. You stare at the TV, though your mind runs from topic to topic in your head. The movie pauses.
“Baby, can we talk?” Dennis asks softly.
“Uhm- yeah.” You sit up, facing him.
“Im not sure how to ask this, but,” He takes a breath, “Are you okay?”
Your face blanches, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I know you’re lying. I want to help you.” He grabs hold of your hand.
“Dennis, I said im fine.” You pull your hand out of his grasp, becoming defensive.
“Baby, I really, really wanna help. I’ve seen how you’ve changed since June, im worried for you. I know school has been hard for you. But if you need help, I’m here.”
“Im fine, really, it's just that it’s winter, and the coldness is messing with me.” Your lie sits in the air; you know that it’s a lie, though Dennis seems to believe it.
“Okay, im here if you ever need to talk. I love you.” He looks at you, the look of a man who cares all too much for a woman who’s far too stubborn, and in love with him to ask for it.
“I love you too.” You say it, it's truthful, though it doesn't feel as full as how you would say it did before. How a smile would grace your lips every time. Now, just the corner of your lips raises.
Winter comes, spring graces Broken Bow, what you were hoping was just the winter blues, was not. Spring came, and spring slowly left. The late-May sun warms your cheeks. You lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling, warm sunlight streaming through your window. You slowly peel yourself out of bed, tears streaming down your face. Dreading that you have to drive 45 minutes to the next town over, to go take a final, that you know for a fact you will fail, for a job that you will hate more and more each year you work.
Your feet are heavy against the floor, and you walk to your car. You put the key in the ignition, and the car stalls. You try again, again, and again. “Fuck.” You lay your head back on the headrest. Taking a deep breath in. Tears of frustration well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You turn the key, hoping it was just a fluke. The engine stalls again. You look at the time on your phone. You needed to leave 10 minutes ago to make it on time. At that, the tears in your eyes spill over. They pour down your face, staining your shirt. Your chest heaves, and snot runs down your face. You feel like you can't breathe. You attempt to take a deep breath, to focus on anything but the sense of panic that runs through your veins.
After a while, your sobs turn into a light mist of tears. You pick up your phone out of the cup holder, its been nearly an hour, and that barely bothers you. You open messages.
You: I know right now you're taking a final, but can you come over afterwards, probably with jumper cables?
You don't look to see if he might’ve seen the message. You hop out of the truck, walking straight into
your house and into your room. Jumping onto the bed. Tears still spilling out of your eyes, staining your sheets. Slowly, you sleep consumes you.
Dennis softly shakes you awake, “Baby, get up, I jumped your car, the battery was dead.”
You say something inaudible, and he moves you over to lie on the bed with you. As you pick up your head off the bed, he finally sees your face; eyes red-rimmed, puffy, lips, cheeks flushed.
“What happened?”
“I missed my final, my car died.” You say.
He moved stray hairs out of your face, “M’sorry, baby, is there a chance you can retake it?”
“No, the professor was clear about it. You miss it, you’ll get a zero.” You sigh. “M’really tired, Dennis.”
“Well, did you get any sleep last night?”
“Denny im tired like really, really fucking tired.” Your head is resting between his neck and the curve of his shoulder. “Not sure if nursing, or really college, is for me.”
“What is it you wanna do?”
“What I want is unreachable. I want out of this town.” With that, you fall asleep. Leaving Dennis to think about what you have said.
Dennis never brings up what you said, nor do you; you barely remember that day. You failed the final, but luckily, not failing the class. The other finals, you didn't do so great, but you passed by a landslide. It’s now July, and today is when you pick your classes. The day you dread. As you stare at your laptop resting atop your legs, you finally realize how miserable you are. How your life isnt your’s, and if you stay in nursing school. In Broken Bow, you’ll forever be stuck. Living a lie. A life that will age you faster than the world spinning round and round ever could. You shut your laptop shut. Looking out the window to the vast farmland. You think about how, for the past 19 long years of your life, Broken Bow feels less and less like home, and more like being stuck in memories.
Leaving was something you dreamt about a lot, since you were a child, but especially in the last year, it’s all you’ve dreamt about. Never considering the actual action of leaving till now. Then you realize, the one man you love is here. He won't come with you. He’s the one reason you stayed. He's the one reason you would stay. Thats when tears start falling, realizing that it's either love or happiness. You are oh so in love, but it's being washed out by your hatred for everything else.
You grab a duffel bag out of your closet. Filling it with clothes, your notebooks full of music, your birth certificate, anything you could think of, with tears spilling out, chest heaving, and mind racing.
You walk up onto Dennis’s Poarch, it's dark out, nearly 3 am. Tears stain your face, letter in hand, you place it in his mailbox. You slowly walk away, towards your truck, and you look back once. You start the truck, slowly pulling out of the driveway. Tears now stream instantly down your cheeks. Your chest sputters. You look out of your rear-view mirror. His home was slowly fading away into the distance.
Dear Dennis,
I know that if I tried to do this in person, it would never happen. You know, that in the last year since school ended, and well before that, I've wanted to get out of Broken Bow. I have been thinking about leaving for a while. Nursing or anything academic-wise has never been fulfilling for me. This has really been showing since nursing school started. I don't fit in, im hardly any good at it. I also know that if I did finish the program, I would never truly be happy. So, im leaving. Im not sure where. Im gonna figure that out. But I want you to know that I stayed for you. My love runs so deeply for you that im not sure where it ends. But I know that my being here is not healthy for me. You were right, I really am not okay. But I will be. I love you to the moon and back, I always will. Im sorry. I hope that one day you go far, far away from Broken Bow, live the life you deserve, and become a great doctor.
Love,
Bowey.
A/N: This chapter to me dragged. Writing it was soooo hard. DWWW next chapter will be fun, not much Dennis will be included but it'll be more happy def. That will be out soon probably the next few days if I dont proofread.
Summary: You and Dennis are hopelessly involve, you decide to stay in Broken Bow, despite your dream is to leave and pursue music. You go into nursing, though you struggle through the first year. Making a life and relationship changing decision
CW: Depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, emotional distress parental neglect, academic stress, burnout, themes of isolation and loneliness, relationship conflict, abandonment, Not proof read, grammar mistakes.
WC: 3k
The sky is painted in hues of soft pink and purple, which slowly blends into the orange of the sun dropping below the horizon. “Denny?” You ask the man lying next to you, his arm hooked around your waist. You lie in the bed of your truck.
“Mm?” He answers
“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You roll over onto your stomach to look at the boy. He’s silent for a second. Barley thinking before answering.
“A doctor.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, remember that cow that went into labor n’ I had to help it give birth.” He looks at you
“Oh! I do, but it’s different from animals from humans to cows, Denny.”
He laughs, “I know that, just want to do something useful. What’d you wanna be?”
You think for a minute. School isn't exactly hard for you to do; you just don't enjoy it. You understand the topics, do well in school, but it’s just not fulfilling for you like it is for Dennis. You think your dream is to sing, leave broken bow, never look back, and sing, doesn't matter where. It’s all you want. “I want to be a singer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve heard me sing before, m’not half bad. I don't need fame, just singing, that’s all.” You say.
“I could see that.” He looks at the sunset. Sun nearly fully under the horizon.
“We would be a power couple.”
“Yeah?” He smiles
“Duhh, a doctor and a singer think about it.”
“That would be pretty cool,” Dennis replies.
You lay your chin on his chest, looking at him, “Do you think you’d ever leave?”
“If I get the chance, right now probably not. Why?”
“Just, we graduate in 3 months, im not going to college. I don’t have much here.. Just you, really. I was thinking about actually leaving.” You say, “Like, actually taking singing seriously, maybe move to California or something.”
Dennis thinks for a minute about you leaving. What he would do alone, what he would do without you? “You should go,” he says this quickly, though what he wants to say is, “Don't go, stay here, marry me, live on the farm with me, make music here.” He knows you wouldn’t stay, even if he begged. You’ve said it time and time again, Broken Bow has nothing for you, and it never will. Well, at least that was before you and Dennis started dating. Before he became the love of your life, before he was your best friend.
“Yeah, but it's unrealistic. I could go to community college. Get a degree in like nursing, i dont know. You could go there too! We could work in the same hospital. It would be like greys anatomy!”
“Yeah?” Dennis feels relieved, though that doesn't come alone; he has guilt for being relieved that you may not leave him. That you would do something unfulfilling to do something more ‘realistic’.
You walk across the stage, grabbing your diploma, shaking your principal's hand. As you walk back to your seat, among other graduates sitting, you spot Dennis. You beam, smiling ear to ear, mouthing “we did it!!” He smiles at you, mouthing, “I love you.”
Afterwards, you go find Dennis, sprinting up to him, jumping straight into his arms, kissing him. He smiles into the kiss.
“Congratulations, Baby.” He beams at you.
You swat at his chest. “D’you have amnesia? You just graduated, too! Congratulations to you, too, my love.”
He huffs a small laugh, “Thank you.”
“Have you seen my mom?” You ask dennis looking around puzzedly.
“No.. did she not come?”
“Yeah, probably.. S’fine.” Your voice faltered.
“M’sorry, baby, how bout this, you come to dinner with the rest of my family and me.”
“Would they mind?”
“Not at all, they love you.” He reassures you.
Your keys jingle as you unlock your front door, stepping inside your home, smelling softly of cigarette smoke. Taking off your shoes, “Mom?” You yell out. Walking around the house, you look for signs that she was here. Opening your phone, you look for a message from her. You send a message.
You: Where are you? Your car’s here, you missed my graduation. When will you be back?
You place your phone down, sitting on the couch with a sigh, still in your graduation gown. You look around the living room, furniture decades out of fashion, slightly yellowing. The wooden coffee table nailed back together over the decade of family game nights, turned into heated arguments. Turning on the TV to distract from the sweet and sour memories, SpongeBob reruns are playing.
For about 15 minutes, you pay attention, then you remember the text you sent to your mom, and you're still waiting for a reply. You open your phone, first looking at the photo of you and Dennis, you’re kissing his cheek, his face is scrunched up. You type in your password. The screen opens to your message
You: !Where are you? Your car’s here, you missed my graduation? When will you be back?
Your message could not be delivered
You sigh, deciding not to worry about it. Her phone is probably just dead; she’s out with that dude that keeps coming around. You reassure yourself. Focusing on the TV in front of you. Though in the back of your head, whispers of worry linger.
“Denny, s’to hard.” You sit on his bed, textbook resting in your lap. In the last 6 months, you and Dennis have both started college, you with nursing school, and Denny studying Pre-med. It started easily for you, getting CPR certified, studying vitals, but the one class getting you is anatomy. 206 bones in the body, muscles, and placements of nerves. The memorization is frying your brain. This isn't a class you can avoid; it's mandatory to graduate. Though the dread of graduating isn't too far. The community college nursing program, being two years long, is intimidating you.
Dennis takes a deep breath, “Okay, I have some flashcards, you just need to know the name and location. It's all memorization. But that can wait. It's nearly 1 am, let's take a break, yeah?” He takes the thick textbook out of your lap, closing it and placing it on his nightstand.
You lie down with him, his arm loosely wrapping around your waist. His breath slowly removes the weight from your chest, but the knot in your stomach stays, leaving your mind racing, unable let you think about one thing without thinking about how you're a failure, how you’ll never graduate, how you’ll never leave Broken Bow, how Dennis is better of without y-
“I love you, Bowey,” Dennis whispers.
“I love you too, Den.” You look at his sleep-ridden face, how peaceful and stress-free he is. Jealously looming over you, why can I be this happy?” You wonder.
You stay like that for a while, in silence. After a while, you open your phone to Instagram. You aimlessly scroll, seeing posts of your friends partying at their colleges far, far away from Broken Bow. Having the time of their life. Or on trips, backpacking across Europe. Every scroll gives you makes the sense of jealousy even stronger, for the fact that they're happy. While you’re miserable, studying for something in two years will only make you hate your life more. You begin to compare your life to theirs and Dennis’s, Dennis enjoying learning for his degree, making friends, and being comfortable with the fact that he may never leave Broken Bow. You look up at Dennis, now sleeping soundly. You decide to stay, for now, with him. The love you have for the man outweighs the pain you have for this town, for your life's trajectory.
Finals come and go, and with them, sadly, the anxiety decides to stay. A new habit has started, every day when your alarm goes off. Your body can barely get out of bed. 12 hours of sleep feels like two now for you. Lying in your bed, you look out of your window. Light reflects off the snow, right into your eyes. You squint, the light slowly giving you a headache. You cover your face with your blanket. Hoping that in 5 seconds, the ache will ease into a hum; something more manageable. On your bedside table, your phone buzzes. You flip the blanket off your face, huffing, and you pick up your phone. It’s Dennis. You pick up.
“Hello..?” You answer
“Hey! Just wondering if you’re coming over. You said you would be over today, so im just wondering.”
You’re confused for a minute, thinking it's 10 am, when really it’s 2 in the afternoon, nearly 3. Your alarm going off at 10 am is something you can clearly remember. How long were you just lying here? “Yeah, uhm ill be right there, can we get lunch or something?” You roll out of your bed. Picking up a hoodie off your floor and a pair of sweatpants.
“Yeah, of course! Love you!” He says happily.
“Love you too, be there in ten.” You yawn.
Dennis is worried about you, to say the least. He’s seen how you barely speak unless spoken to, or how you don’t eat as much, how you can sleep for hour upon hours and then still be tired. At first, he thought it was the transition between highschool to college. But now it’s February, he's worried that you may hurt yourself. You barely talk to him anymore. When he finally gets you to come over, he decides to confront you.
Dennis hears the front door open. You walk inside, slipping off your shoes, and walking upstairs towards his room. Once you walk in, he embraces you in a hug. You lightly hug him back, sighing into the hug.
You and he end up watching a movie. It hums in the background. Your laying on his chest. You stare at the TV, though your mind runs from topic to topic in your head. The movie pauses.
“Baby, can we talk?” Dennis asks softly.
“Uhm- yeah.” You sit up, facing him.
“Im not sure how to ask this, but,” He takes a breath, “Are you okay?”
Your face blanches, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I know you’re lying. I want to help you.” He grabs hold of your hand.
“Dennis, I said im fine.” You pull your hand out of his grasp, becoming defensive.
“Baby, I really, really wanna help. I’ve seen how you’ve changed since June, im worried for you. I know school has been hard for you. But if you need help, I’m here.”
“Im fine, really, it's just that it’s winter, and the coldness is messing with me.” Your lie sits in the air; you know that it’s a lie, though Dennis seems to believe it.
“Okay, im here if you ever need to talk. I love you.” He looks at you, the look of a man who cares all too much for a woman who’s far too stubborn, and in love with him to ask for it.
“I love you too.” You say it, it's truthful, though it doesn't feel as full as how you would say it did before. How a smile would grace your lips every time. Now, just the corner of your lips raises.
Winter comes, spring graces Broken Bow, what you were hoping was just the winter blues, was not. Spring came, and spring slowly left. The late-May sun warms your cheeks. You lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling, warm sunlight streaming through your window. You slowly peel yourself out of bed, tears streaming down your face. Dreading that you have to drive 45 minutes to the next town over, to go take a final, that you know for a fact you will fail, for a job that you will hate more and more each year you work.
Your feet are heavy against the floor, and you walk to your car. You put the key in the ignition, and the car stalls. You try again, again, and again. “Fuck.” You lay your head back on the headrest. Taking a deep breath in. Tears of frustration well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You turn the key, hoping it was just a fluke. The engine stalls again. You look at the time on your phone. You needed to leave 10 minutes ago to make it on time. At that, the tears in your eyes spill over. They pour down your face, staining your shirt. Your chest heaves, and snot runs down your face. You feel like you can't breathe. You attempt to take a deep breath, to focus on anything but the sense of panic that runs through your veins.
After a while, your sobs turn into a light mist of tears. You pick up your phone out of the cup holder, its been nearly an hour, and that barely bothers you. You open messages.
You: I know right now you're taking a final, but can you come over afterwards, probably with jumper cables?
You don't look to see if he might’ve seen the message. You hop out of the truck, walking straight into
your house and into your room. Jumping onto the bed. Tears still spilling out of your eyes, staining your sheets. Slowly, you sleep consumes you.
Dennis softly shakes you awake, “Baby, get up, I jumped your car, the battery was dead.”
You say something inaudible, and he moves you over to lie on the bed with you. As you pick up your head off the bed, he finally sees your face; eyes red-rimmed, puffy, lips, cheeks flushed.
“What happened?”
“I missed my final, my car died.” You say.
He moved stray hairs out of your face, “M’sorry, baby, is there a chance you can retake it?”
“No, the professor was clear about it. You miss it, you’ll get a zero.” You sigh. “M’really tired, Dennis.”
“Well, did you get any sleep last night?”
“Denny im tired like really, really fucking tired.” Your head is resting between his neck and the curve of his shoulder. “Not sure if nursing, or really college, is for me.”
“What is it you wanna do?”
“What I want is unreachable. I want out of this town.” With that, you fall asleep. Leaving Dennis to think about what you have said.
Dennis never brings up what you said, nor do you; you barely remember that day. You failed the final, but luckily, not failing the class. The other finals, you didn't do so great, but you passed by a landslide. It’s now July, and today is when you pick your classes. The day you dread. As you stare at your laptop resting atop your legs, you finally realize how miserable you are. How your life isnt your’s, and if you stay in nursing school. In Broken Bow, you’ll forever be stuck. Living a lie. A life that will age you faster than the world spinning round and round ever could. You shut your laptop shut. Looking out the window to the vast farmland. You think about how, for the past 19 long years of your life, Broken Bow feels less and less like home, and more like being stuck in memories.
Leaving was something you dreamt about a lot, since you were a child, but especially in the last year, it’s all you’ve dreamt about. Never considering the actual action of leaving till now. Then you realize, the one man you love is here. He won't come with you. He’s the one reason you stayed. He's the one reason you would stay. Thats when tears start falling, realizing that it's either love or happiness. You are oh so in love, but it's being washed out by your hatred for everything else.
You grab a duffel bag out of your closet. Filling it with clothes, your notebooks full of music, your birth certificate, anything you could think of, with tears spilling out, chest heaving, and mind racing.
You walk up onto Dennis’s Poarch, it's dark out, nearly 3 am. Tears stain your face, letter in hand, you place it in his mailbox. You slowly walk away, towards your truck, and you look back once. You start the truck, slowly pulling out of the driveway. Tears now stream instantly down your cheeks. Your chest sputters. You look out of your rear-view mirror. His home was slowly fading away into the distance.
Dear Dennis,
I know that if I tried to do this in person, it would never happen. You know, that in the last year since school ended, and well before that, I've wanted to get out of Broken Bow. I have been thinking about leaving for a while. Nursing or anything academic-wise has never been fulfilling for me. This has really been showing since nursing school started. I don't fit in, im hardly any good at it. I also know that if I did finish the program, I would never truly be happy. So, im leaving. Im not sure where. Im gonna figure that out. But I want you to know that I stayed for you. My love runs so deeply for you that im not sure where it ends. But I know that my being here is not healthy for me. You were right, I really am not okay. But I will be. I love you to the moon and back, I always will. Im sorry. I hope that one day you go far, far away from Broken Bow, live the life you deserve, and become a great doctor.
Love,
Bowey.
A/N: This chapter to me dragged. Writing it was soooo hard. DWWW next chapter will be fun, not much Dennis will be included but it'll be more happy def. That will be out soon probably the next few days if I dont proofread.
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A/N: This is the readers discography up to September 2025 as of right now, anytime a new song is released it will be added here! Reader's stage name is Bowey I did this to make it easier to write but there will be no Y/N usage! Comment 4 taglist!
The sky is painted in hues of soft pink and purple, which slowly blends into the orange of the sun dropping below the horizon. “Denny?” You ask the man lying next to you, his arm hooked around your waist. You lie in the bed of your truck.
“Mm?” He answers
“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You roll over onto your stomach to look at the boy. He’s silent for a second. Barley thinking before answering.
“A doctor.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, remember that cow that went into labor n’ I had to help it give birth.” He looks at you
“Oh! I do, but it’s different from animals from humans to cows, Denny.”
He laughs, “I know that, just want to do something useful. What’d you wanna be?”
You think for a minute. School isn't exactly hard for you to do; you just don't enjoy it. You understand the topics, do well in school, but it’s just not fulfilling for you like it is for Dennis. You think your dream is to sing, leave broken bow, never look back, and sing, doesn't matter where. It’s all you want. “I want to be a singer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve heard me sing before, m’not half bad. I don't need fame, just singing, that’s all.” You say.
“I could see that.” He looks at the sunset. Sun nearly fully under the horizon.
“We would be a power couple.”
“Yeah?” He smiles
“Duhh, a doctor and a singer think about it.”
“That would be pretty cool,” Dennis replies.
A/N: This is a little blurb of a series I'll be starting, im still tweaking some things so the story line makes sense and isn't like... weird to read and or the plot doesn't make sense. But hopefully I'll fix some of these things and the first chapter will come out hopefully sometime next week! comment 4 taglist!
