I will write pretty much any kind of sickfic for my OCs.
I love questions/thoughts/comments about my OCs (and anything else) and I would love to talk about them! Also accepting requests now, since I'm kind of looking for inspiration :)
I have some fics right now that are already written, but I am open to requests/prompts/ideas about any of my characters. I have some plot lines in mind for some of them, so there will be storylines happening eventually.
Each of my works will be tagged #my writing. The sickie will be tagged with their name. Any information about my characters will be tagged #my ocs. Anything related to visuals, such as picrews, appearance information, or flat layouts will be tagged #oc visuals. Background information or writing info will be tagged #meta stuffs.
Just as a disclaimer, I have first aid training, so emergency situations where Colin and Julie are performing first aid will be as accurate as possible (though likely dramatized at times, because that's kind of the point of this blog). That being said, I do not have medical training, so hospital situations, and a lot of Jules' medical knowledge will rely more on other resources.
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soooooo excited for this one! This scene has been playing on loop in my brain for years, and to finally put it out there is crazyyyyy
CW: not exactly explicit homophobia, but it's definitely kind of there. bad family dynamics. highly questionable parenting. long-lost sibling vibes.
-- -- -- -- --
Rowyn stands on the sidewalk, looking up at the familiar Trattoria Russo sign, swirly red letters on a cream background, swinging gently in the spring breeze.
This restaurant was the setting of many family occasions growing up. It's owned by this adorable little Italian couple from Naples, with a handful of kids who all worked there growing up. It was just the right combination of elegant and coziness, both satisfying his parents and making it a family favourite.
There's a pit in his stomach. Heaviness weighs down his limbs. On the other side of the wall sits his family - his mother, his father, Finn, and Liam.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle the nervousness that seems to vibrate under his skin. It was his decision to come back, but it's only now, faced with the reality of that decision, that he starts to regret rushing into this with no preparation.
Okay, no preparation might be a stretch. After disembarking the train from hell, he sat in a café pretending to read a biochem article on his phone, but really he was thinking through the night. He realized that the best way to get through the night unscathed is by giving his parents no reactions. That being said, he resolved not to hide any longer - he refuses to lie for their comfort ever again.
I'm here for my brothers, he reminds himself, as he has been for the last 72 hours, Their happiness is the most important thing, and that includes not causing a scene.
He glances at his watch; 7:02. He's delayed long enough. They won't appreciate him being late.
He shakes out his hands, and pushes open the door. The small bell chimes above the door, and his eyes flit across the many tables until they land on the four people he didn't know if he'd ever see again.
Father stands out the most. He's a fairly large man, matched by his big opinions and willingness to stand by them. Even from behind, Rowyn can tell that he hasn't changed his haircut; His black hair is still kept short and neat, sharp lines bordering his face.
Mother, sitting next to him, has her brown hair twisted in elegant curls, a soft blue dress draped across her shoulders. His breath hitches when she turns to say something to Father and he sees her face for the first time in years. She's aged, but beautifully, a few more lines framing her eyes and lips, but her pale skin seems to glow in the light.
And then he sees them. His heart stops, before jumping back into motion. Hands sweaty, he takes a step towards them, trying to drink in every detail. This doesn't feel real.
How many times has he pictured this moment? Wondered what they'd look like? What they'd say?
He stumbles forward another step, walking right past the hostess with a vague gesture at the table. Different conversations wash over him as he passes other groups, but his eyes stay fixed on Liam and Finn.
He knows they're in public, and his parents are there too, but for a moment, all he can think is They're so big now. These aren't the kids he remembers - they are proper teenagers.
One of them meets his eyes (he realizes he's not sure who's who from this far away), and their eyes light up, grinning. He nudges the other twin (goddamnit, he wishes he knew which was which) and he frowns, looking at Rowyn with something clouded.
His steps falter. He thought they both wanted him there? His eyes are burning with tears. They have every reason to be mad at him. Why did he think this was a good idea?!
Suddenly, a shout shatters the atmosphere, heads turning to look at them, "Wynnie!" There's only one person who has ever called him that.
He wants to cry. Tears sting his eyes, and he swallows them back, fighting the lump in his throat as Finn's chair is pushed back and then his arms are full of his brother.
"Finny," he murmurs into his hair, hugging him back just as fiercely, forgetting for a moment all the anxiety.
Finn is laughing, hands gripping the back of his shirt, and he buries his face in his little brother's hair (he's almost twice as big as he remembers, but he's still an entire head shorter than Rowyn). He soaks up the warmth of the moment, the restaurant suddenly seeming brighter, Finn's happiness making everything worth it.
The moment has to end, however, and it does so abruptly, when someone on their right clears their throat. Rowyn slowly opens his eyes, rebuilding his mental fortifications as Finn slips out of his hold.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Finn straighten his posture, then tug nervously on his shirt, before sitting back next to his brother.
Mother is now standing right next to him, a smile plastered on her face, but he can see it doesn't reach her eyes. "You came," she says, voice exactly how he remembers it, even as she sounds a little surprised.
For once, he's thankful for his customer service training, schooling his face into a smile as his voice takes a teasing and only slightly sarcastic edge, "Well, I couldn't disappoint the graduates now, could I?"
Her green eyes, so like his, remain cold as she folds him into a hug.
A mother's hug is such a cliché, but his mother's hug is anything but comforting. Bony and tight in a way that doesn't at all remind him of his childhood or the softness he knows she's capable of, instead feeling claustrophobic.
He lets her wrap herself around him, focusing on keeping the peace as much as possible. Remembering how important their public image is to them, he forces his stiff body to soften into her hold, his arms finally coming up to hug her back. This close up, he can't help but notice how her brown hair is now interspersed with flecks of grey - yet another reminder of how much time has passed. After a minute, however, he can't help but squirm, hoping it looks natural, how he wiggles himself out of her grip.
Turning to the table, he forces his face to remain expressionless as he realizes his father has stood to greet him.
This is the man that he looked up to as a child. The man who taught him, guided him, punished him, and loved him. This was also the man who turned his back on his kid, telling him he had to leave. The man whose love became conditional because of something Rowyn couldn't control.
Seeing him standing there, tall and righteous, he shivers with fear, eyes flicking over to his brothers, before squaring his shoulders and bracing for whatever is coming.
His father holds out his hand, and Rowyn sighs internally (a handshake then, not a hug). He meets his father's hand in a firm grip, and he's pulled against his body as his father leans down, muttering in his ear, voice low and vaguely threatening, "You better behave." Rowyn nods shakily, pulling away, finally able to sit down. If there was any doubt before, it's clear that he would rather Rowyn wasn't here today, the invitation clearly coming from his mother and at least one of his brothers.
Looking over at the twins, Finn is bouncing in his seat, but Liam is sitting stone-faced. Liam nods once at him, not meeting his eyes, greeting him with a cool, "Rowyn."
After Finn's welcome, Liam's lack of any warmth and nicknames is heartbreaking, even if not entirely unexpected.
Finn nudges Liam, who turns to Finn with a glare, before he softens, squeezes his hand, and sighs.
"Hi Liam," Rowyn adds softly, hands twisting under the table as he tries to control his emotions. Liam's eyes narrow, but otherwise he stays indifferent.
Now that he's closer to them, he can find the subtle differences that distinguish one twin from the other. Liam's face is the smallest bit narrower, his chin a touch pointier. Finn's hair is just a bit messier, as though he doesn't spend as much time as Liam trying to make it lie flat. He soaks them in, analyzing every detail he can.
Liam's wearing a smart button up shirt in a forest green colour, and Rowyn's glad that at least his favourite colour doesn't seem to have changed.
When Rowyn processes that Finn is wearing a light grey polo shirt, however, his heart sinks a little, a hint of dread filtering in, thinking of the bright bubbly kid who loved vibrant colours.
He opens the menu, hoping to distract himself from the questions starting to overtake his mind. Concerns about his parents raising two of the sweetest kids he's ever met. Worries about how him leaving might have affected household dynamics. Frustrations at being unable to ask these questions. Fear at what Liam and Finn might be sacrificing to survive in this town.
Nope, eyes on the menu, he reprimands himself, when he starts to look back at his brothers. He needs this moment of respite to organize his thoughts. He scans the menu, looking for something light and cheap. His stomach still feels tight and sore from the train earlier, and he does not want to be feeling sick while dealing with his parents. And he's already spent money on train tickets and a hotel, he can't afford too much more with this trip.
This train of thought is interrupted when the waiter arrives, and he's dropped back in reality, gaze landing on his stern-as-ever father, as he orders a beer and some intense steak meal that Rowyn doesn't remember the name of. It's in such contrast to his mother, who gets a salad (he's sure it's something carefully curated and put together, but it's still a salad).
When the waiter turns to him, he feels the attention of all four family members turn to him, and he fumbles with the menu, clearing his throat uselessly and pushing out the words to ask for "just water and the spaghetti aglio e olio, please", wincing at the way his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, face flushing as he looks down.
Normally, he wouldn't care, but knowing his parents are judging his every action is making him inordinately self-conscious. It reminds him of his childhood, spending all his energy trying to please them, whether with good grades, "proper" behaviour, or seamless appearance. This thought turns the embarrassment into a flash of anger, and he straightens his posture, looking up to catch the end of Liam's pizza order.
When the waiter smiles at them and leaves, the table falls back into an awkward silence, tense emotion bubbling at the edges. Instead of boiling over into a messy interrogation, it settles into painfully neutral small talk (Rowyn's not sure which would be preferable at this point).
Finn starts them off by turning to Rowyn practically with stars in his eyes, "So what have you been up to, Wynnie?" he asks innocently, and Rowyn almost cringes away from the landmine riddled question.
He glances at his parents. His father has frozen, staring at him. He meets his gaze evenly, then turns back to Finn.
"I've, um, been figuring out who I am," he winces at the non-answer, "I'm applying to vet school soon," he offers with a shrug.
"That's so cool!" Finn answers, and he can't stop the small smile from his brother's enthusiasm.
"Thanks. I just finished my third year of animal biology, but I'm taking a couple classes this summer too."
Finn nods thoughtfully, then asks, "And are you living by yourself? Or do you have a girlfriend or something?" It's not his fault, Rowyn tells himself, He doesn't know that's a dangerous topic. He can feel his father's icy stare from across the table, and his mother's hands white-knuckling her glass, and he takes a deep breath.
"No, I'm not living by myself," he answers slowly, squirming, "There's five of us in the apartment. I don't have a girlfriend," he adds hastily, hating the way he has to pretend Colin doesn't exist, desperately wanting to add, I do have a boyfriend though.
He takes a deep breath as his mother and father relax slightly, "What about you guys though? What have you been up to? How was grade 8?"
Finn and Liam glance at each other, and surprisingly, Liam is the first to answer him.
"It was good. Classes were easy, and I - we - have some good friends." Finn nods, but doesn't look at him. He suspects that that was a practiced answer, censored for the sake of their parents, and the dread crawls further up his throat, stomach clenching.
And in other news, his voice is so deep now. As Rowyn comes to this realization, Finn adds, "I was in debate club though, and that was pretty fun."
Rowyn meets his eyes, smiling for real this time, "Really? I love a good debate."
Finn perks up, glancing at their parents, before telling a few stories about his experiences. He sounds like he's reciting a script, and Rowyn catches the dark glance that Liam sends at their parents.
The waiter interrupts, having returned with large plates of food. Rowyn's stomach grumbles apprehensively as the plate of pasta is placed in front of him.
He waits until his parents have started to eat, before hesitantly digging in, relieved when his stomach seems to accept the food with minimal complaint. He really did get the blandest thing possible, in hopes that it would be okay.
"Liam," his mother sighs, and Rowyn looks over, apprehensive, "Would you use a fork and knife like a civilized person." She phrases it like a question, but he knows from experience that that was more an instruction than anything else.
Finn groans, almost inaudibly, as Liam stares her dead in the eye and picks up a slice of his pizza, taking an enormous bite, practically oozing teenage impetuousness. Rowyn muffles the laugh that wants to burst out at the flash of the sassy little brother he remembers.
"Liam," his father interjects, voice tense. Rowyn clenches his fist at the stifling nature of his parents, watching as Liam practically deflates, glaring at his food.
Throughout their meal, Finn chatters away, seemingly content to have everyone together. While Liam isn't saying much, it's clear he's hanging on every word, even as he pretends not to care. He's sulking, for lack of a better word, slouched just enough for Rowyn to notice the slump in his shoulders without being obvious enough that their parents would pick up on it.
Rowyn learns a handful of tidbits about Liam - he plays baseball and loves it, he has lots of friends (unlike Finn, it would seem), and he's mad at him. Okay, that last one might be his emotions playing tricks on him, but he's certainly being more aloof and acting out more than Rowyn remembers. That could also be the effects of time, he reminds himself, hating every instance he's reminded of the 4 year gap in the timeline.
It's nice, talking to Finn and Liam again. He missed them so much. Even Liam, who's disposition is so different than he remembers, shows him flashes of the little boy he knew. The mischievous expression that meant he did something he wasn't supposed to, the inflection in his speech that's the same, the soft way he looks at Finn.
Finn has changed too, but in more subtle ways. He's always looking at either Liam or his parents, as if trying to gauge reactions. He's answering carefully, as if there's always more he wants to say or ask. It reminds Rowyn of how he always had to curate what he was saying and how he was acting growing up, and it breaks his heart that Finn is going through something similar.
Mother and Father have remained shockingly quiet. Occasionally interjecting with something to add to the twins' stories, or a correction to their behaviour. The two of them eventually engage in a conversation about the church, to no-one's surprise. Rowyn listens halfway, recognizing some names and collecting little updates, making him weirdly nostalgic.
Even hearing all of this, there's the niggling reminder in the back of his head that he has a life to return to. It's a life he fought for, and a life he wants to return to, he realizes with a start. He has friends, and a boyfriend, two things he thought were nearly impossible when he was Liam and Finn's age.
So as much as he wants a relationship with his brothers, he's starting to understand that knowing them is not worth his security and comfort, when he has a home to go back to.
He doesn't want to say goodbye to them again, but maybe that's what he ought to do…
But would he really be capable of leaving them behind with his parents, when clearly they're not thriving? Could he really leave his brothers with the problems he tried so hard to get away from?
He blinks. They're all looking at him expectantly. What did he miss?! He glances around the table for a hint, realizing with a start that all the plates are gone, and looking up to find the waiter standing awkwardly next to him.
He clears his throat, mumbling that he's finished, catching his mother's disapproving frown across the table.
He wasn't prepared for them to start ordering dessert, even though he probably should've been, considering it's a celebratory dinner after all.
Luckily, he works in a cafe, and is relatively knowledgeable when it comes to food, so he's able to order some cannolis without seeming any more like a moron.
While they're waiting for dessert to come, Finn excuses himself to the washroom, which leaves a stilted silence in his wake.
Liam opens his mouth, as if to say something, but clearly rethinks it, closing his mouth and slumping down in his seat, finger drawing aimless patterns on the tablecloth.
His father's booming voice softens into a hiss as he reprimands him, "Finn, sit up straight!"
Immediately, he sees Liam flinch, and his "don't make a scene" rule is overridden by his "make sure Finn and Liam are having a good time" rule.
"That's Liam!" he snaps at the same time that Liam mutters, "I'm Liam, father," disdain coating the word.
Even his mother looks at him with something displeased shimmering in her eyes. Father rolls his eyes, but ultimately doesn't comment further.
Liam sends a small smile towards Rowyn, whose protective instincts as the older sibling are still raging in full force, and for the first time, it feels like maybe they're on the same page.
The moment is broken when Finn returns, and then dessert arrives, and Rowyn feels exhaustion start to creep in. He hates that they still haven't talked about anything of substance. Everything has been so surface level, that he hasn't even told them what tonight has meant to him.
Between the afternoon spent puking his guts out, the emotional intensity of the evening, and having to maintain his polite façade in the presence of his family, his energy is drained, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be asleep.
He lets the conversation wash over him, still listening, but not engaged nearly as much. He slowly makes his way through his cannoli, the cool cream filling refreshing and light enough that it seems to sit okay in his stomach.
Finn keeps glancing at him, as if wanting him to participate more, but all he can offer is an apologetic shrug.
When the bill comes, all he feels is relief, until he realizes the waiter only brought one check. It hadn't even occurred to him that his parents would pay for him, but suddenly it's the last thing he wants. He came back to this town, and he put up with their presence all evening, but he will not be indebted to them in any way.
"Excuse me," he interrupts, "I'd like to split the bill," he adds, the waiter looking at him in surprise.
"Okay, I can bill yours separately?" he questions, unsurely looking between him and his father, who are locked in a stare-down.
"Yes, please," Rowyn confirms. Time freezes for a moment after he leaves, before his mother descends on him with a whispered "Do you realize how that looks?!"
For the first time all night, he leans into his sarcasm properly, scathingly answering, "Like I value my independence?"
"There are people we know here, Rowyn! What are they going to think, when they realize we're not paying for you?" He distantly realizes that it's the first time she's said his name all evening.
There are a hundred rebuttals that race through his mind, everything from, "You realize not a single person is paying nearly as much attention to you as you seem to think?" to "I'm the one who asked to split the check, it doesn't say anything about you!" but before he can land on one, his father decides his contribution is necessary.
"Let's not make any more of a scene," he says, and that's that. His mother sits back, and Rowyn huffs out a breath, forcing his frown to relax. He knows better than to tempt his father's temper.
Finn glances between them all, small frown in place as he seems to be looking for something to say, probably to ease the tension that has thickened the atmosphere.
The waiter returns with two bills this time, and they pay in silence, before shuffling out of the restaurant.
It's a cool night, and the street is dark and quiet, illuminated only by a distant street light.
Rowyn trails after his family as they march towards their car at the far end of the small parking lot.
His mother turns back to look at him, giving him a tense smile, and a weak "Goodbye Rowyn," before climbing in the passenger seat. His father nods at him once, before the driver's side door closes on him.
Rowyn's left with Finn and Liam, finally awarded a small moment of privacy.
Finn rushes into his arms for the second time that night, and he buries his face in his hair again, breathing him in and relishing the moment.
"I missed you so much," he whispers to him, feeling him squeeze tighter in response, Rowyn huffing out a laugh.
"When will we see you again?" Finn asks, and Rowyn's eyes well up with tears.
"I don't know," he answers truthfully, watching Finn's face fall.
When they finally detach, Rowyn finds Liam leaning against the car, arms crossed and face stony once more.
"Liam," he pleads, needing to hold him again, "Can I please have a hug?"
He doesn't move for a minute, and Rowyn's nerves are all on edge, until Finn sighs, and walks over, pushing Liam forward.
He crashes into Rowyn, and for a second its bony and awkward, and then all of a sudden, they fit, and it's exactly how it should feel, hugging your little brother again.
Liam sniffles against his shoulder, and he murmurs, "I am so sorry, Lee. I never wanted- I didn't mean to leave you like that, okay? It wasn't anything that you guys did, it's just what had to happen." It's still not as much of an explanation as what's owed, or as he'd like to say, but he's still acutely aware of his parents in the car, no doubt watching the interaction.
He's proven right when his father rolls down his window, calling out a sharp, "Let's go, boys." There's a rough movement in the corner of his eye, and he realizes it must have been Finn, practically flinching at their father's voice.
Liam drifts away, subtly wiping his eyes, and Rowyn feels the loss of warmth immediately.
Finn walks towards the car backwards, so he can wave at Rowyn at the same time, and he grins, waving back. Liam doesn't look back until the last second, calling a rough, "Bye Ro-Ro," over his shoulder, and Rowyn's heart flips, hearing his brother's childhood nickname for him.
"Bye ," he whispers, as the car drives away, leaving him in the parking lot.
As the social hangover washes over him, he realizes he either has to walk back to the hotel, or get an Uber. Walking through the cool night sounds wildly unpleasant, but he still hesitates to pay for a ride.
He starts towards his hotel, still knowing the way around the town without a map. He finds his feet dragging, though, thoughts running at a million miles an hour in his head. He stumbles to a stop on a bench, deciding screw it, he's ordering a ride.
As he waits for the car to get there, he realizes how validating it was to see his parents again, in a weird twisted way. He hates how they make him feel, of course, and while knowing that they see him as a stain on the family is not pleasant, it's oddly satisfactory to know that he didn't exaggerate or overreact at all - they are exactly as awful as he remembers, if not worse.
They didn't make him feel anything other than small and incompetent all night.
His brothers on the other hand… Well, it was the most amazing thing to see them all grown up, even if he had to face the harsh truth of what 4 years and 5 months apart means.
The car pulls up, and he relaxes into the back seat with a sigh, the weight of the past few hours (or really the past few days) pressing down on him so much that he almost falls asleep.
Luckily, they get to the hotel before that happens, and he clumsily walks up to his room.
The second the door closes behind him, his breath hitches with a sob, and then tears are streaming down his face, hot and heavy.
There were too many emotions for him to process, and honestly he's still wrung out from his adventures in the bathroom earlier, and he misses home so much.
He collapses on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off yet, burying his face in the pillow as he cries. By the time the tears run out, he's sniffling weakly, eyelashes stuck together, and face covered in snot. He heaves himself up to wash his face, somehow feeling lighter now that he's not holding everything in, finally starting to process the weight of missing Finn and Liam.
Taking his shoes off, and changing into something comfier, he sits back on the bed, staring at his phone.
On one hand, he desperately wants to hear Colin's voice, and he misses the warmth of their apartment after the coldness of the evening so much, but he can't bring himself to call him, or have to talk about how it went when he's hardly even processed it himself.
Even though he thinks Colin would understand, he knows he would just end up crying more, and the thought of having to talk to anyone else, socialize anymore feels entirely too overwhelming.
He scrubs his face dry of the few tears that leaked down his face while he was thinking about him, letting out a half-wet half-hysteric laugh at how completely done he feels. He's just about to open that biochem article from earlier, in an effort to distract himself, when his hotel landline rings, startling him so much that he jumps, his phone falling from his hand, bouncing on the mattress, and clattering to the floor.
He stares at the hotel phone for a moment, wondering if, after all of that, he's hallucinating or something.
But no, the phone is really ringing with a loud obnoxious trill. Weird. Who would be calling on the hotel landline?
He hesitantly picks it up, muttering a croaky "Hello?", wincing at the rough quality of his voice.
soooooo excited for this one! This scene has been playing on loop in my brain for years, and to finally put it out there is crazyyyyy
CW: not exactly explicit homophobia, but it's definitely kind of there. bad family dynamics. highly questionable parenting. long-lost sibling vibes.
-- -- -- -- --
Rowyn stands on the sidewalk, looking up at the familiar Trattoria Russo sign, swirly red letters on a cream background, swinging gently in the spring breeze.
This restaurant was the setting of many family occasions growing up. It's owned by this adorable little Italian couple from Naples, with a handful of kids who all worked there growing up. It was just the right combination of elegant and coziness, both satisfying his parents and making it a family favourite.
There's a pit in his stomach. Heaviness weighs down his limbs. On the other side of the wall sits his family - his mother, his father, Finn, and Liam.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle the nervousness that seems to vibrate under his skin. It was his decision to come back, but it's only now, faced with the reality of that decision, that he starts to regret rushing into this with no preparation.
Okay, no preparation might be a stretch. After disembarking the train from hell, he sat in a café pretending to read a biochem article on his phone, but really he was thinking through the night. He realized that the best way to get through the night unscathed is by giving his parents no reactions. That being said, he resolved not to hide any longer - he refuses to lie for their comfort ever again.
I'm here for my brothers, he reminds himself, as he has been for the last 72 hours, Their happiness is the most important thing, and that includes not causing a scene.
He glances at his watch; 7:02. He's delayed long enough. They won't appreciate him being late.
He shakes out his hands, and pushes open the door. The small bell chimes above the door, and his eyes flit across the many tables until they land on the four people he didn't know if he'd ever see again.
Father stands out the most. He's a fairly large man, matched by his big opinions and willingness to stand by them. Even from behind, Rowyn can tell that he hasn't changed his haircut; His black hair is still kept short and neat, sharp lines bordering his face.
Mother, sitting next to him, has her brown hair twisted in elegant curls, a soft blue dress draped across her shoulders. His breath hitches when she turns to say something to Father and he sees her face for the first time in years. She's aged, but beautifully, a few more lines framing her eyes and lips, but her pale skin seems to glow in the light.
And then he sees them. His heart stops, before jumping back into motion. Hands sweaty, he takes a step towards them, trying to drink in every detail. This doesn't feel real.
How many times has he pictured this moment? Wondered what they'd look like? What they'd say?
He stumbles forward another step, walking right past the hostess with a vague gesture at the table. Different conversations wash over him as he passes other groups, but his eyes stay fixed on Liam and Finn.
He knows they're in public, and his parents are there too, but for a moment, all he can think is They're so big now. These aren't the kids he remembers - they are proper teenagers.
One of them meets his eyes (he realizes he's not sure who's who from this far away), and their eyes light up, grinning. He nudges the other twin (goddamnit, he wishes he knew which was which) and he frowns, looking at Rowyn with something clouded.
His steps falter. He thought they both wanted him there? His eyes are burning with tears. They have every reason to be mad at him. Why did he think this was a good idea?!
Suddenly, a shout shatters the atmosphere, heads turning to look at them, "Wynnie!" There's only one person who has ever called him that.
He wants to cry. Tears sting his eyes, and he swallows them back, fighting the lump in his throat as Finn's chair is pushed back and then his arms are full of his brother.
"Finny," he murmurs into his hair, hugging him back just as fiercely, forgetting for a moment all the anxiety.
Finn is laughing, hands gripping the back of his shirt, and he buries his face in his little brother's hair (he's almost twice as big as he remembers, but he's still an entire head shorter than Rowyn). He soaks up the warmth of the moment, the restaurant suddenly seeming brighter, Finn's happiness making everything worth it.
The moment has to end, however, and it does so abruptly, when someone on their right clears their throat. Rowyn slowly opens his eyes, rebuilding his mental fortifications as Finn slips out of his hold.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Finn straighten his posture, then tug nervously on his shirt, before sitting back next to his brother.
Mother is now standing right next to him, smile plastered on her face, but he can see it doesn't reach her eyes. "You came," she says, voice exactly how he remembers it, even as she sounds a little surprised.
For once, he's thankful for his customer service training, schooling his face into a smile as his voice takes a teasing and only slightly sarcastic edge, "Well, I couldn't disappoint the graduates now, could I?"
Her green eyes, so like his, remain cold as she folds him into a hug.
A mother's hug is such a cliché, but his mother's hug is anything but comforting. Bony and tight in a way that doesn't at all remind him of his childhood or the softness he knows she's capable of, instead feeling claustrophobic.
He lets her wrap herself around him, focusing on keeping the peace as much as possible. Remembering how important their public image is to them, he forces his stiff body to soften into her hold, his arms finally coming up to hug her back. This close up, he can't help but notice how her brown hair is now interspersed with flecks of grey - yet another reminder of how much time has passed. After a minute, however, he can't help but squirm, hoping it looks natural, how he wiggles himself out of her grip.
Turning to the table, he forces his face to remain expressionless as he realizes his father has stood to greet him.
This is the man that he looked up to as a child. The man who taught him, guided him, punished him, and loved him. This was also the man who turned his back on his kid, telling him he had to leave. The man whose love became conditional because of something Rowyn couldn't control.
Seeing him standing there, tall and righteous, he shivers with fear, eyes flicking over to his brothers, before squaring his shoulders and bracing for whatever is coming.
His father holds out his hand, and Rowyn sighs internally (a handshake then, not a hug). He meets his father's hand in a firm grip, and he's pulled against his body as his father leans down, muttering in his ear, voice low and vaguely threatening, "You better behave." Rowyn nods shakily, pulling away, finally able to sit down. If there was any doubt before, it's clear that he would rather Rowyn wasn't here today, the invitation clearly coming from his mother and at least one of his brothers.
Looking over at the twins, Finn is bouncing in his seat, but Liam is sitting stone-faced. Liam nods once at him, not meeting his eyes, greeting him with a cool, "Rowyn."
After Finn's welcome, Liam's lack of any warmth and nicknames is heartbreaking, even if not entirely unexpected.
Finn nudges Liam, who turns to Finn with a glare, before he softens, squeezes his hand, and sighs.
"Hi Liam," Rowyn adds softly, hands twisting under the table as he tries to control his emotions. Liam's eyes narrow, but otherwise he stays indifferent.
Now that he's closer to them, he can find the subtle differences that distinguish one twin from the other. Liam's face is the smallest bit narrower, his chin a touch pointier. Finn's hair is just a bit messier, as though he doesn't spend as much time as Liam trying to make it lie flat. He soaks them in, analyzing every detail he can.
Liam's wearing a smart button up shirt in a forest green colour, and Rowyn's glad that at least his favourite colour doesn't seem to have changed.
When Rowyn processes that Finn is wearing a light grey polo shirt, however, his heart sinks a little, a hint of dread filtering in, thinking of the bright bubbly kid who loved vibrant colours.
He opens the menu, hoping to distract himself from the questions starting to overtake his mind. Concerns about his parents raising two of the sweetest kids he's ever met. Worries about how him leaving might have affected household dynamics. Frustrations at being unable to ask these questions. Fear at what Liam and Finn might be sacrificing to survive in this town.
Nope, eyes on the menu, he reprimands himself, when he starts to look back at his brothers. He needs this moment of respite to organize his thoughts. He scans the menu, looking for something light and cheap. His stomach still feels tight and sore from the train earlier, and he does not want to be feeling sick while dealing with his parents. And he's already spent money on train tickets and a hotel, he can't afford too much more with this trip.
This train of thought is interrupted when the waiter arrives, and he's dropped back in reality, gaze landing on his stern-as-ever father, as he orders a beer and some intense steak meal that Rowyn doesn't remember the name of. It's in such contrast to his mother, who gets a salad (he's sure it's something carefully curated and put together, but it's still a salad).
When the waiter turns to him, he feels the attention of all four family members turn to him, and he fumbles with the menu, clearing his throat uselessly and pushing out the words to ask for "just water and the spaghetti aglio e olio, please", wincing at the way his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, face flushing as he looks down.
Normally, he wouldn't care, but knowing his parents are judging his every action is making him inordinately self-conscious. It reminds him of his childhood, spending all his energy trying to please them, whether with good grades, "proper" behaviour, or seamless appearance. This thought turns the embarassment into a flash of anger, and he straightens his posture, looking up to catch the end of Liam's pizza order.
When the waiter smiles at them and leaves, the table falls back into an awkward silence, tense emotion bubbling at the edges. Instead of boiling over into a messy interrogation, it settles into painfully neutral small talk (Rowyn's not sure which would preferable at this point).
Finn starts them off by turning to Rowyn practically with stars in his eyes, "So what have you been up to, Wynnie?" he asks innocently, and Rowyn almost cringes away from the landmine riddled question.
He glances at his parents. His father has frozen, staring at him. He meets his gaze evenly, then turns back to Finn.
"I've, um, been figuring out who I am," he winces at the non-answer, "I'm applying to vet school soon," he offers with a shrug.
"That's so cool!" Finn answers, and he can't stop the small smile from his brother's enthusiasm.
"Thanks. I just finished my third year of animal biology, but I'm taking a couple classes this summer too."
Finn nods thoughtfully, then asked, "And are you living by yourself? Or do you have a girlfriend or something?" It's not his fault, Rowyn tells himself, He doesn't know that's a dangerous topic. He can feel his father's icy stare from across the table, and his mother's hands white-knuckling her glass, and he takes a deep breath.
"No, I'm not living by myself," he answers slowly, squirming, "There's five of us in the apartment. I don't have a girlfriend," he adds hastily, hating the way he has to pretend Colin doesn't exist, desperately wanting to add, I do have a boyfriend though.
He takes a deep breath as his mother and father relax slightly, "What about you guys though? What have you been up to? How was grade 8?"
Finn and Liam glance at each other, and surprisingly, Liam is the first to answer him.
"It was good. Classes were easy, and I - we - have some good friends." Finn nods, but doesn't look at him. He suspects that that was a practiced answer, censored for the sake of their parents, and the dread crawls further up his throat, stomach clenching.
And in other news, his voice is so deep now. As Rowyn comes to this realization, Finn adds, "I was in debate club though, and that was pretty fun."
Rowyn meets his eyes, smiling for real this time, "Really? I love a good debate."
Finn perks up, glancing at their parents, before telling a few stories about his experiences. He sounds like he's reciting a script, and Rowyn catches the dark glance that Liam sends at their parents.
The waiter interrupts, having returned with large plates of food. Rowyn's stomach grumbles apprehensively as the plate of pasta is placed in front of him.
He waits until his parents have started to eat, before hesitantly digging in, relieved when his stomach seems to accept the food with minimal complaint. He really did get the blandest thing possible, in hopes that it would be okay.
"Liam," his mother sighs, and Rowyn looks over, apprehensive, "Would you use a fork and knife like a civilized person." She phrases it like a question, but he knows from experience that that was more an instruction than anything else.
Finn groans, almost inaudibly, as Liam stares her dead in the eye and picks up a slice of his pizza, taking an enormous bite, practically oozing teenage impetuousness. Rowyn muffles the laugh that wants to burst out at the flash of the sassy little brother he remembers.
"Liam," his father interjects, voice tense. Rowyn clenches his fist at the stifling nature of his parents, watching as Liam practically deflates, glaring at his food.
Throughout their meal, Finn chatters away, seemingly content to have everyone together. Whie Liam isn't saying much, it's clear he's hanging on every word, even as he pretends not to care. He's is sulking, for lack of a better word, slouched just enough for Rowyn to notice the slump in his shoulders without being obvious enough that their parents would pick up on it.
Rowyn learns a handful of tidbits about Liam - he plays baseball and loves it, he has lots of friends (unlike Finn, it would seem), and he's mad at him. Okay, that last one might be his emotions playing tricks on him, but he's certainly being more aloof and acting out more than Rowyn remembers. That could also be the effects of time, he reminds himself, hating every instance he's reminded of the 4 year gap in the timeline.
It's nice, talking to Finn and Liam again. He missed them so much. Even Liam, who's disposition is so different than he remembers, shows him flashes of the little boy he knew. The mischievous expression that meant he did something he wasn't supposed to, the inflection in his speech that's the same, the soft way he looks at Finn.
Finn has changed too, but in more subtle ways. He's always looking at either Liam or his parents, as if trying to gauge reactions. He's answering carefully, as if there's always more he wants to say or ask. It reminds Rowyn of how he always had to curate what he was saying and how he was acting growing up, and it breaks his heart that Finn is going through something similar.
Mother and Father have remained shockingly quiet. Occasionally interjecting with something to add to the twins' stories, or a correction to their behaviour. The two of them eventually engage in a conversation about the church, to no-one's surprise. Rowyn listens halfway, recognizing some names and collecting little updates, making him weirdly nostalgic.
Even hearing all of this, there's the niggling reminder in the back of his head that he has a life to return to. It's a life he fought for, and a life he wants to return to, he realizes with a start. He has friends, and a boyfriend, two things he thought were nearly impossible when he was Liam and Finn's age.
So as much as he wants a relationship with his brothers, he's starting to understand that knowing them is not worth his security and comfort, when he has a home to go back to.
He doesn't want to say goodbye to them again, but maybe that's what he ought to do…
But would he really be capable of leaving them behind with his parents, when clearly they're not thriving? Could he really leave his brothers with the problems he tried so hard to get away from?
He blinks. They're all looking at him expectantly. What did he miss?! He glances around the table for a hint, realizing with a start that all the plates are gone, and looking up to find the waiter standing awkwardly next to him.
He clears his throat, mumbling that he's finished, catching his mother's disapproving frown across the table.
He wasn't prepared for them to start ordering dessert, even though he probably should've been, considering it's a celebratory dinner after all.
Luckily, he works in a cafe, and is relatively knowledgeable when it comes to food, so he's able to order some cannolis without seeming any more like a moron.
While they're waiting for dessert to come, Finn excuses himself to the washroom, which leaves a stilted silence in his wake.
Liam opens his mouth, as if to say something, but clearly rethinks it, closing his mouth and slumping down in his seat, finger drawing aimless patterns on the tablecloth.
His father's booming voice softens into a hiss as he reprimands him, "Finn, sit up straight!"
Immediately, he sees Liam flinch, and his "don't make a scene" rule is overriden by his "make sure Finn and Liam are having a good time" rule.
"That's Liam!" he snaps at the same time that Liam mutters, "I'm Liam, father," disdain coating the word.
Even his mother looks at him with something displeased shimmering in her eyes. Father rolls his eyes, but ultimately doesn't comment further.
Liam sends a small smile towards Rowyn, whose protective instincts as the older sibling are still raging in full force, and for the first time, it feels like maybe they're on the same page.
The moment is broken when Finn returns, and then dessert arrives, and Rowyn feels exhaustion start to creep in. He hates that they still haven't talked about anything of substance. Everything has been so surface level, that he hasn't even told them what tonight has meant to him.
Between the afternoon spent puking his guts out, the emotional intensity of the evening, and having to maintain his polite façade in the presence of his family, his energy is drained, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be asleep.
He lets the conversation wash over him, still listening, but not engaged nearly as much. He slowly makes his way through his cannoli, the cool cream filling refreshing and light enough that it seems to sit okay in his stomach.
Finn keeps glancing at him, as if wanting him to participate more, but all he can offer is an apologetic shrug.
When the bill comes, all he feels is relief, until he realizes the waiter only brought one check. It hadn't even occured to him that his parents would pay for him, but suddenly it's the last thing he wants. He came back to this town, and he put up with their presence all evening, but he will not be indepted to them in any way.
"Excuse me," he interrupts, "I'd like to split the bill," he adds, the waiter looking at him in surprise.
"Okay, I can bill yours seperately?" he questions, unsurely looking between him and his father, who are locked in a stare-down.
"Yes, please," Rowyn confirms. Time freezes for a moment after he leaves, before his mother descends on him with a whispered "Do you realize how that looks?!"
For the first time all night, he leans into his sarcasm properly, scathingly answering, "Like I value my independence?"
"There are people we know here, Rowyn! What are they going to think, when they realize we're not paying for you?" He distantly realizes that it's the first time she's said his name all evening.
There are a hundred rebuttals that race through his mind, everything from, "You realize not a single person is paying nearly as much attention to you as you seem to think?" to "I'm the one who asked to split the check, it doesn't say anything about you!" but before he can land on one, his father decides his contribution is necessary.
"Let's not make any more of a scene," he says, and that's that. His mother sits back, and Rowyn huffs out a breath, forcing his frown to relax. He knows better than to tempt his father's temper.
Finn glances between them all, small frown in place as he seems to be looking for something to say, probably to ease the tension that has thickened the atmosphere.
The waiter returns with two bills this time, and they pay in silence, before shuffling out of the restaurant.
It's a cool night, and the street is dark and quiet, illuminated only by a distant street light.
Rowyn trails after his family as they march towards their car at the far end of the small parking lot.
His mother turns back to look at him, giving him a tense smile, and a weak "Goodbye Rowyn," before climbing in the passenger seat. His father nods at him once, before the driver's side door closes on him.
Rowyn's left with Finn and Liam, finally awarded a small moment of privacy.
Finn rushes into his arms for the second time that night, and he buries his face in his hair again, breathing him in and relishing the moment.
"I missed you so much," he whispers to him, feeling him squeeze tighter in response, Rowyn huffing out a laugh.
"When will we see you again?" Finn asks, and Rowyn's eyes well up with tears.
"I don't know," he answers truthfully, watching Finn's face fall.
When they finally detach, Rowyn finds Liam leaning against the car, arms crossed and face stony once more.
"Liam," he pleads, needing to hold him again, "Can I please have a hug?"
He doesn't move for a minute, and Rowyn's nerves are all on edge, until Finn sighs, and walks over, pushing Liam forward.
He crashes into Rowyn, and for a second its bony and awkward, and then all of a sudden, they fit, and it's exactly how it should feel, hugging your little brother again.
Liam sniffles against his shoulder, and he murmurs, "I am so sorry, Lee. I never wanted- I didn't mean to leave you like that, okay? It wasn't anything that you guys did, it's just what had to happen." It's still not as much of an explanation as what's owed, or as he'd like to say, but he's still accutely aware of his parents in the car, no doubt watching the interaction.
He's proven right when his father rolls down his window, calling out a sharp, "Let's go, boys." There's a rough movement in the corner of his eye, and he realizes it must have been Finn, practically flinching at their father's voice.
Liam drifts away, subtly wiping his eyes, and Rowyn feels the loss of warmth immediately.
Finn walks towards the car backwards, so he can wave at Rowyn at the same time, and he grins, waving back. Liam doesn't look back until the last second, calling a rough, "Bye Ro-Ro," over his shoulder, and Rowyn's heart flips, hearing his brother's childhood nickname for him.
"Bye ," he whispers, as the car drives away, leaving him in the parking lot.
As the social hangover washes over him, he realizes he either has to walk back to the hotel, or get an Uber. Walking through the cool night sounds wildly unpleasant, but he still hesitates to pay for a ride.
He starts towards his hotel, still knowing the way around the town without a map. He finds his feet dragging, though, thoughts running at a million miles an hour in his head. He stumbles to a stop on a bench, deciding screw it, he's ordering a ride.
As he waits for the car to get there, he realizes how validating it was to see his parents again, in a weird twisted way. He hates how they make him feel, of course, and while knowing that they see him as a stain on the family is not pleasant, it's oddly satisfactory to know that he didn't exaggerate or overreact at all - they are exactly as awful as he remembers, if not worse.
They didn't make him feel anything other than small and incompetent all night.
His brothers on the other hand… well, it was the most amazing thing to see them all grown up, even if he had the face the harsh truth of what 4 years and 5 months apart means.
The car pulls up, and he relaxes into the back seat with a sigh, the weight of the past few hours (or really the past few days) pressing down on him so much that he almost falls asleep.
Luckily, they get to the hotel before that happens, and he clumsily walks up to his room.
The second the door closes behind him, his breath hitches with a sob, and then tears are streaming down his face, hot and heavy.
There were too many emotions for him to process, and honestly he's still wrung out from his adventures in the bathroom earlier, and he misses home so much.
He collapses on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off yet, burying his face in the pillow as he cries. By the time the tears run out, he's sniffling weakly, eyelashes stuck together, and face covered in snot. He heaves himself up to wash his face, somehow feeling lighter now that he's not holding everything in, finally starting to process the weight of missing Finn and Liam.
Taking his shoes off, and changing into something comfier, he sits back on the bed, staring at his phone.
On one hand, he desperately wants to hear Colin's voice, and he misses the warmth of their apartment after the coldness of the evening so much, but he can't bring himself to call him, or have to talk about how it went when he's hardly even processed it himself.
Even though he thinks Colin would understand, he knows he would just end up crying more, and the thought of having to talk to anyone else, socialize anymore feels entirely too overwhelming.
He scrubs his face dry of the few tears that leaked down his face while he was thinking about him, letting out a half-wet half-hysteric laugh at how completely done he feels. He's just about to open that biochem article from earlier, in an effort to distract himself, when his hotel landline rings, startling him so much that he jumps, his phone falling from his hand, bouncing on the matress, and clattering to the floor.
He stares at the hotel phone for a moment, wondering if, after all of that, he's hallicunating or something.
But no, the phone is really ringing with a loud abnoxious trill. Weird. Who would be calling on the hotel landline?
He hesitantly picks it up, muttering a croaky "Hello?", wincing at the rough quality of his voice.
Rowyn again, more family stuff, later that night, still on the trip
Colin, dealing with everything while Rowyn's away
Rowyn again coming home
Max probably?
And then in all likelihood entering a proper reconciliation arc for Ro and Colin
However! I am very much missing Alix and Jayden right now, and I'm not writing for Charlie very much now, so if there are any requests, questions, ideas for any of these three, I'd love to work with them somewhere during all of this. It doesn't have to be plot relevant, and I'm open to working on different tropes and things than I've done so far
soooooo excited for this one! This scene has been playing on loop in my brain for years, and to finally put it out there is crazyyyyy
CW: not exactly explicit homophobia, but it's definitely kind of there. bad family dynamics. highly questionable parenting. long-lost sibling vibes.
-- -- -- -- --
Rowyn stands on the sidewalk, looking up at the familiar Trattoria Russo sign, swirly red letters on a cream background, swinging gently in the spring breeze.
This restaurant was the setting of many family occasions growing up. It's owned by this adorable little Italian couple from Naples, with a handful of kids who all worked there growing up. It was just the right combination of elegant and coziness, both satisfying his parents and making it a family favourite.
There's a pit in his stomach. Heaviness weighs down his limbs. On the other side of the wall sits his family - his mother, his father, Finn, and Liam.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle the nervousness that seems to vibrate under his skin. It was his decision to come back, but it's only now, faced with the reality of that decision, that he starts to regret rushing into this with no preparation.
Okay, no preparation might be a stretch. After disembarking the train from hell, he sat in a café pretending to read a biochem article on his phone, but really he was thinking through the night. He realized that the best way to get through the night unscathed is by giving his parents no reactions. That being said, he resolved not to hide any longer - he refuses to lie for their comfort ever again.
I'm here for my brothers, he reminds himself, as he has been for the last 72 hours, Their happiness is the most important thing, and that includes not causing a scene.
He glances at his watch; 7:02. He's delayed long enough. They won't appreciate him being late.
He shakes out his hands, and pushes open the door. The small bell chimes above the door, and his eyes flit across the many tables until they land on the four people he didn't know if he'd ever see again.
Father stands out the most. He's a fairly large man, matched by his big opinions and willingness to stand by them. Even from behind, Rowyn can tell that he hasn't changed his haircut; His black hair is still kept short and neat, sharp lines bordering his face.
Mother, sitting next to him, has her brown hair twisted in elegant curls, a soft blue dress draped across her shoulders. His breath hitches when she turns to say something to Father and he sees her face for the first time in years. She's aged, but beautifully, a few more lines framing her eyes and lips, but her pale skin seems to glow in the light.
And then he sees them. His heart stops, before jumping back into motion. Hands sweaty, he takes a step towards them, trying to drink in every detail. This doesn't feel real.
How many times has he pictured this moment? Wondered what they'd look like? What they'd say?
He stumbles forward another step, walking right past the hostess with a vague gesture at the table. Different conversations wash over him as he passes other groups, but his eyes stay fixed on Liam and Finn.
He knows they're in public, and his parents are there too, but for a moment, all he can think is They're so big now. These aren't the kids he remembers - they are proper teenagers.
One of them meets his eyes (he realizes he's not sure who's who from this far away), and their eyes light up, grinning. He nudges the other twin (goddamnit, he wishes he knew which was which) and he frowns, looking at Rowyn with something clouded.
His steps falter. He thought they both wanted him there? His eyes are burning with tears. They have every reason to be mad at him. Why did he think this was a good idea?!
Suddenly, a shout shatters the atmosphere, heads turning to look at them, "Wynnie!" There's only one person who has ever called him that.
He wants to cry. Tears sting his eyes, and he swallows them back, fighting the lump in his throat as Finn's chair is pushed back and then his arms are full of his brother.
"Finny," he murmurs into his hair, hugging him back just as fiercely, forgetting for a moment all the anxiety.
Finn is laughing, hands gripping the back of his shirt, and he buries his face in his little brother's hair (he's almost twice as big as he remembers, but he's still an entire head shorter than Rowyn). He soaks up the warmth of the moment, the restaurant suddenly seeming brighter, Finn's happiness making everything worth it.
The moment has to end, however, and it does so abruptly, when someone on their right clears their throat. Rowyn slowly opens his eyes, rebuilding his mental fortifications as Finn slips out of his hold.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Finn straighten his posture, then tug nervously on his shirt, before sitting back next to his brother.
Mother is now standing right next to him, a smile plastered on her face, but he can see it doesn't reach her eyes. "You came," she says, voice exactly how he remembers it, even as she sounds a little surprised.
For once, he's thankful for his customer service training, schooling his face into a smile as his voice takes a teasing and only slightly sarcastic edge, "Well, I couldn't disappoint the graduates now, could I?"
Her green eyes, so like his, remain cold as she folds him into a hug.
A mother's hug is such a cliché, but his mother's hug is anything but comforting. Bony and tight in a way that doesn't at all remind him of his childhood or the softness he knows she's capable of, instead feeling claustrophobic.
He lets her wrap herself around him, focusing on keeping the peace as much as possible. Remembering how important their public image is to them, he forces his stiff body to soften into her hold, his arms finally coming up to hug her back. This close up, he can't help but notice how her brown hair is now interspersed with flecks of grey - yet another reminder of how much time has passed. After a minute, however, he can't help but squirm, hoping it looks natural, how he wiggles himself out of her grip.
Turning to the table, he forces his face to remain expressionless as he realizes his father has stood to greet him.
This is the man that he looked up to as a child. The man who taught him, guided him, punished him, and loved him. This was also the man who turned his back on his kid, telling him he had to leave. The man whose love became conditional because of something Rowyn couldn't control.
Seeing him standing there, tall and righteous, he shivers with fear, eyes flicking over to his brothers, before squaring his shoulders and bracing for whatever is coming.
His father holds out his hand, and Rowyn sighs internally (a handshake then, not a hug). He meets his father's hand in a firm grip, and he's pulled against his body as his father leans down, muttering in his ear, voice low and vaguely threatening, "You better behave." Rowyn nods shakily, pulling away, finally able to sit down. If there was any doubt before, it's clear that he would rather Rowyn wasn't here today, the invitation clearly coming from his mother and at least one of his brothers.
Looking over at the twins, Finn is bouncing in his seat, but Liam is sitting stone-faced. Liam nods once at him, not meeting his eyes, greeting him with a cool, "Rowyn."
After Finn's welcome, Liam's lack of any warmth and nicknames is heartbreaking, even if not entirely unexpected.
Finn nudges Liam, who turns to Finn with a glare, before he softens, squeezes his hand, and sighs.
"Hi Liam," Rowyn adds softly, hands twisting under the table as he tries to control his emotions. Liam's eyes narrow, but otherwise he stays indifferent.
Now that he's closer to them, he can find the subtle differences that distinguish one twin from the other. Liam's face is the smallest bit narrower, his chin a touch pointier. Finn's hair is just a bit messier, as though he doesn't spend as much time as Liam trying to make it lie flat. He soaks them in, analyzing every detail he can.
Liam's wearing a smart button up shirt in a forest green colour, and Rowyn's glad that at least his favourite colour doesn't seem to have changed.
When Rowyn processes that Finn is wearing a light grey polo shirt, however, his heart sinks a little, a hint of dread filtering in, thinking of the bright bubbly kid who loved vibrant colours.
He opens the menu, hoping to distract himself from the questions starting to overtake his mind. Concerns about his parents raising two of the sweetest kids he's ever met. Worries about how him leaving might have affected household dynamics. Frustrations at being unable to ask these questions. Fear at what Liam and Finn might be sacrificing to survive in this town.
Nope, eyes on the menu, he reprimands himself, when he starts to look back at his brothers. He needs this moment of respite to organize his thoughts. He scans the menu, looking for something light and cheap. His stomach still feels tight and sore from the train earlier, and he does not want to be feeling sick while dealing with his parents. And he's already spent money on train tickets and a hotel, he can't afford too much more with this trip.
This train of thought is interrupted when the waiter arrives, and he's dropped back in reality, gaze landing on his stern-as-ever father, as he orders a beer and some intense steak meal that Rowyn doesn't remember the name of. It's in such contrast to his mother, who gets a salad (he's sure it's something carefully curated and put together, but it's still a salad).
When the waiter turns to him, he feels the attention of all four family members turn to him, and he fumbles with the menu, clearing his throat uselessly and pushing out the words to ask for "just water and the spaghetti aglio e olio, please", wincing at the way his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, face flushing as he looks down.
Normally, he wouldn't care, but knowing his parents are judging his every action is making him inordinately self-conscious. It reminds him of his childhood, spending all his energy trying to please them, whether with good grades, "proper" behaviour, or seamless appearance. This thought turns the embarrassment into a flash of anger, and he straightens his posture, looking up to catch the end of Liam's pizza order.
When the waiter smiles at them and leaves, the table falls back into an awkward silence, tense emotion bubbling at the edges. Instead of boiling over into a messy interrogation, it settles into painfully neutral small talk (Rowyn's not sure which would be preferable at this point).
Finn starts them off by turning to Rowyn practically with stars in his eyes, "So what have you been up to, Wynnie?" he asks innocently, and Rowyn almost cringes away from the landmine riddled question.
He glances at his parents. His father has frozen, staring at him. He meets his gaze evenly, then turns back to Finn.
"I've, um, been figuring out who I am," he winces at the non-answer, "I'm applying to vet school soon," he offers with a shrug.
"That's so cool!" Finn answers, and he can't stop the small smile from his brother's enthusiasm.
"Thanks. I just finished my third year of animal biology, but I'm taking a couple classes this summer too."
Finn nods thoughtfully, then asks, "And are you living by yourself? Or do you have a girlfriend or something?" It's not his fault, Rowyn tells himself, He doesn't know that's a dangerous topic. He can feel his father's icy stare from across the table, and his mother's hands white-knuckling her glass, and he takes a deep breath.
"No, I'm not living by myself," he answers slowly, squirming, "There's five of us in the apartment. I don't have a girlfriend," he adds hastily, hating the way he has to pretend Colin doesn't exist, desperately wanting to add, I do have a boyfriend though.
He takes a deep breath as his mother and father relax slightly, "What about you guys though? What have you been up to? How was grade 8?"
Finn and Liam glance at each other, and surprisingly, Liam is the first to answer him.
"It was good. Classes were easy, and I - we - have some good friends." Finn nods, but doesn't look at him. He suspects that that was a practiced answer, censored for the sake of their parents, and the dread crawls further up his throat, stomach clenching.
And in other news, his voice is so deep now. As Rowyn comes to this realization, Finn adds, "I was in debate club though, and that was pretty fun."
Rowyn meets his eyes, smiling for real this time, "Really? I love a good debate."
Finn perks up, glancing at their parents, before telling a few stories about his experiences. He sounds like he's reciting a script, and Rowyn catches the dark glance that Liam sends at their parents.
The waiter interrupts, having returned with large plates of food. Rowyn's stomach grumbles apprehensively as the plate of pasta is placed in front of him.
He waits until his parents have started to eat, before hesitantly digging in, relieved when his stomach seems to accept the food with minimal complaint. He really did get the blandest thing possible, in hopes that it would be okay.
"Liam," his mother sighs, and Rowyn looks over, apprehensive, "Would you use a fork and knife like a civilized person." She phrases it like a question, but he knows from experience that that was more an instruction than anything else.
Finn groans, almost inaudibly, as Liam stares her dead in the eye and picks up a slice of his pizza, taking an enormous bite, practically oozing teenage impetuousness. Rowyn muffles the laugh that wants to burst out at the flash of the sassy little brother he remembers.
"Liam," his father interjects, voice tense. Rowyn clenches his fist at the stifling nature of his parents, watching as Liam practically deflates, glaring at his food.
Throughout their meal, Finn chatters away, seemingly content to have everyone together. While Liam isn't saying much, it's clear he's hanging on every word, even as he pretends not to care. He's sulking, for lack of a better word, slouched just enough for Rowyn to notice the slump in his shoulders without being obvious enough that their parents would pick up on it.
Rowyn learns a handful of tidbits about Liam - he plays baseball and loves it, he has lots of friends (unlike Finn, it would seem), and he's mad at him. Okay, that last one might be his emotions playing tricks on him, but he's certainly being more aloof and acting out more than Rowyn remembers. That could also be the effects of time, he reminds himself, hating every instance he's reminded of the 4 year gap in the timeline.
It's nice, talking to Finn and Liam again. He missed them so much. Even Liam, who's disposition is so different than he remembers, shows him flashes of the little boy he knew. The mischievous expression that meant he did something he wasn't supposed to, the inflection in his speech that's the same, the soft way he looks at Finn.
Finn has changed too, but in more subtle ways. He's always looking at either Liam or his parents, as if trying to gauge reactions. He's answering carefully, as if there's always more he wants to say or ask. It reminds Rowyn of how he always had to curate what he was saying and how he was acting growing up, and it breaks his heart that Finn is going through something similar.
Mother and Father have remained shockingly quiet. Occasionally interjecting with something to add to the twins' stories, or a correction to their behaviour. The two of them eventually engage in a conversation about the church, to no-one's surprise. Rowyn listens halfway, recognizing some names and collecting little updates, making him weirdly nostalgic.
Even hearing all of this, there's the niggling reminder in the back of his head that he has a life to return to. It's a life he fought for, and a life he wants to return to, he realizes with a start. He has friends, and a boyfriend, two things he thought were nearly impossible when he was Liam and Finn's age.
So as much as he wants a relationship with his brothers, he's starting to understand that knowing them is not worth his security and comfort, when he has a home to go back to.
He doesn't want to say goodbye to them again, but maybe that's what he ought to do…
But would he really be capable of leaving them behind with his parents, when clearly they're not thriving? Could he really leave his brothers with the problems he tried so hard to get away from?
He blinks. They're all looking at him expectantly. What did he miss?! He glances around the table for a hint, realizing with a start that all the plates are gone, and looking up to find the waiter standing awkwardly next to him.
He clears his throat, mumbling that he's finished, catching his mother's disapproving frown across the table.
He wasn't prepared for them to start ordering dessert, even though he probably should've been, considering it's a celebratory dinner after all.
Luckily, he works in a cafe, and is relatively knowledgeable when it comes to food, so he's able to order some cannolis without seeming any more like a moron.
While they're waiting for dessert to come, Finn excuses himself to the washroom, which leaves a stilted silence in his wake.
Liam opens his mouth, as if to say something, but clearly rethinks it, closing his mouth and slumping down in his seat, finger drawing aimless patterns on the tablecloth.
His father's booming voice softens into a hiss as he reprimands him, "Finn, sit up straight!"
Immediately, he sees Liam flinch, and his "don't make a scene" rule is overridden by his "make sure Finn and Liam are having a good time" rule.
"That's Liam!" he snaps at the same time that Liam mutters, "I'm Liam, father," disdain coating the word.
Even his mother looks at him with something displeased shimmering in her eyes. Father rolls his eyes, but ultimately doesn't comment further.
Liam sends a small smile towards Rowyn, whose protective instincts as the older sibling are still raging in full force, and for the first time, it feels like maybe they're on the same page.
The moment is broken when Finn returns, and then dessert arrives, and Rowyn feels exhaustion start to creep in. He hates that they still haven't talked about anything of substance. Everything has been so surface level, that he hasn't even told them what tonight has meant to him.
Between the afternoon spent puking his guts out, the emotional intensity of the evening, and having to maintain his polite façade in the presence of his family, his energy is drained, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be asleep.
He lets the conversation wash over him, still listening, but not engaged nearly as much. He slowly makes his way through his cannoli, the cool cream filling refreshing and light enough that it seems to sit okay in his stomach.
Finn keeps glancing at him, as if wanting him to participate more, but all he can offer is an apologetic shrug.
When the bill comes, all he feels is relief, until he realizes the waiter only brought one check. It hadn't even occurred to him that his parents would pay for him, but suddenly it's the last thing he wants. He came back to this town, and he put up with their presence all evening, but he will not be indebted to them in any way.
"Excuse me," he interrupts, "I'd like to split the bill," he adds, the waiter looking at him in surprise.
"Okay, I can bill yours separately?" he questions, unsurely looking between him and his father, who are locked in a stare-down.
"Yes, please," Rowyn confirms. Time freezes for a moment after he leaves, before his mother descends on him with a whispered "Do you realize how that looks?!"
For the first time all night, he leans into his sarcasm properly, scathingly answering, "Like I value my independence?"
"There are people we know here, Rowyn! What are they going to think, when they realize we're not paying for you?" He distantly realizes that it's the first time she's said his name all evening.
There are a hundred rebuttals that race through his mind, everything from, "You realize not a single person is paying nearly as much attention to you as you seem to think?" to "I'm the one who asked to split the check, it doesn't say anything about you!" but before he can land on one, his father decides his contribution is necessary.
"Let's not make any more of a scene," he says, and that's that. His mother sits back, and Rowyn huffs out a breath, forcing his frown to relax. He knows better than to tempt his father's temper.
Finn glances between them all, small frown in place as he seems to be looking for something to say, probably to ease the tension that has thickened the atmosphere.
The waiter returns with two bills this time, and they pay in silence, before shuffling out of the restaurant.
It's a cool night, and the street is dark and quiet, illuminated only by a distant street light.
Rowyn trails after his family as they march towards their car at the far end of the small parking lot.
His mother turns back to look at him, giving him a tense smile, and a weak "Goodbye Rowyn," before climbing in the passenger seat. His father nods at him once, before the driver's side door closes on him.
Rowyn's left with Finn and Liam, finally awarded a small moment of privacy.
Finn rushes into his arms for the second time that night, and he buries his face in his hair again, breathing him in and relishing the moment.
"I missed you so much," he whispers to him, feeling him squeeze tighter in response, Rowyn huffing out a laugh.
"When will we see you again?" Finn asks, and Rowyn's eyes well up with tears.
"I don't know," he answers truthfully, watching Finn's face fall.
When they finally detach, Rowyn finds Liam leaning against the car, arms crossed and face stony once more.
"Liam," he pleads, needing to hold him again, "Can I please have a hug?"
He doesn't move for a minute, and Rowyn's nerves are all on edge, until Finn sighs, and walks over, pushing Liam forward.
He crashes into Rowyn, and for a second its bony and awkward, and then all of a sudden, they fit, and it's exactly how it should feel, hugging your little brother again.
Liam sniffles against his shoulder, and he murmurs, "I am so sorry, Lee. I never wanted- I didn't mean to leave you like that, okay? It wasn't anything that you guys did, it's just what had to happen." It's still not as much of an explanation as what's owed, or as he'd like to say, but he's still acutely aware of his parents in the car, no doubt watching the interaction.
He's proven right when his father rolls down his window, calling out a sharp, "Let's go, boys." There's a rough movement in the corner of his eye, and he realizes it must have been Finn, practically flinching at their father's voice.
Liam drifts away, subtly wiping his eyes, and Rowyn feels the loss of warmth immediately.
Finn walks towards the car backwards, so he can wave at Rowyn at the same time, and he grins, waving back. Liam doesn't look back until the last second, calling a rough, "Bye Ro-Ro," over his shoulder, and Rowyn's heart flips, hearing his brother's childhood nickname for him.
"Bye ," he whispers, as the car drives away, leaving him in the parking lot.
As the social hangover washes over him, he realizes he either has to walk back to the hotel, or get an Uber. Walking through the cool night sounds wildly unpleasant, but he still hesitates to pay for a ride.
He starts towards his hotel, still knowing the way around the town without a map. He finds his feet dragging, though, thoughts running at a million miles an hour in his head. He stumbles to a stop on a bench, deciding screw it, he's ordering a ride.
As he waits for the car to get there, he realizes how validating it was to see his parents again, in a weird twisted way. He hates how they make him feel, of course, and while knowing that they see him as a stain on the family is not pleasant, it's oddly satisfactory to know that he didn't exaggerate or overreact at all - they are exactly as awful as he remembers, if not worse.
They didn't make him feel anything other than small and incompetent all night.
His brothers on the other hand… Well, it was the most amazing thing to see them all grown up, even if he had to face the harsh truth of what 4 years and 5 months apart means.
The car pulls up, and he relaxes into the back seat with a sigh, the weight of the past few hours (or really the past few days) pressing down on him so much that he almost falls asleep.
Luckily, they get to the hotel before that happens, and he clumsily walks up to his room.
The second the door closes behind him, his breath hitches with a sob, and then tears are streaming down his face, hot and heavy.
There were too many emotions for him to process, and honestly he's still wrung out from his adventures in the bathroom earlier, and he misses home so much.
He collapses on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off yet, burying his face in the pillow as he cries. By the time the tears run out, he's sniffling weakly, eyelashes stuck together, and face covered in snot. He heaves himself up to wash his face, somehow feeling lighter now that he's not holding everything in, finally starting to process the weight of missing Finn and Liam.
Taking his shoes off, and changing into something comfier, he sits back on the bed, staring at his phone.
On one hand, he desperately wants to hear Colin's voice, and he misses the warmth of their apartment after the coldness of the evening so much, but he can't bring himself to call him, or have to talk about how it went when he's hardly even processed it himself.
Even though he thinks Colin would understand, he knows he would just end up crying more, and the thought of having to talk to anyone else, socialize anymore feels entirely too overwhelming.
He scrubs his face dry of the few tears that leaked down his face while he was thinking about him, letting out a half-wet half-hysteric laugh at how completely done he feels. He's just about to open that biochem article from earlier, in an effort to distract himself, when his hotel landline rings, startling him so much that he jumps, his phone falling from his hand, bouncing on the mattress, and clattering to the floor.
He stares at the hotel phone for a moment, wondering if, after all of that, he's hallucinating or something.
But no, the phone is really ringing with a loud obnoxious trill. Weird. Who would be calling on the hotel landline?
He hesitantly picks it up, muttering a croaky "Hello?", wincing at the rough quality of his voice.
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Once again spending my week in a first aid course, and it's good information and everything, but for this particular brand of weirdness it's a treasure trove of stories and tidbits
Like I always forget how normally people can talk about illness and vomit without it being weird. And in first aid, you have to discuss these as symptoms and components of shock and treatment
And we talk about treating diabetes and seizures, and Charlie's on my mind the whole time
Then we talk about Critical Incident Stress and I'm validated in my portrayal of Colin. I get all inspired for my Make Shock a More Prevalent Plotline Agenda because I love how many flavours it can be
We get real-life stories of first aid and emergencies and everyone will have a vomit story or a bleeding story or a fainting story, and my little whump and sickness loving brain is soaking it all up :)
And now my mind is filled with different ways to pull these things in, despite none of it having to do with my actual plot line right now
Hello folks! Alright so, summer turned out to be way more chaotic than anticipated, which is really annoying because I was planning to do so much writing this season. So while new fics are not coming as often as I'd hoped, I am still here all the time, trying to write, reading everything, and caring so much :)
I offer the next instalment of Roywn's arc. There is, unfortunately, no illness in this one - it's lots of talking and context stuff.
-- -- -- -- --
Part 1: Siblings
Jamie's confused. There's no other way to put it, he just doesn't understand. Rowyn was right about that.
He finds Colin in the living room, staring at his phone. The TV plays whatever soccer game is on at the moment, but Colin doesn't seem to really be watching.
Carefully sitting next to him, he nudges Colin. He looks up, muttering a gruff, "What?" Jamie snorts at his grumpiness, so unlike his normal persona.
"Why did Rowyn go back?" he asks plainly, figuring it's best to cut to the chase.
Colin looks confused, "… to see his brothers? It's their Grade 8 graduation."
Jamie sighs fondly, "No, I got that part. It's just-" he huffs in exasperation, trying to find the words, "From everything I've heard, his family sucks. So I just don't really get why he would drop everything to go home? Plus, I hardly even knew he had brothers - he never talks about them!"
Colin's eyes are locked on his, now, "First of all, that's not his home. He's not "going home", that's not what this is for him. You're right, his parents suck ass. And he doesn't talk about his childhood or his brothers because he doesn't want to dwell on it, and is trying to make his own life. It's his decision to go back, and I have to respect it, even if I don't entirely understand." His voice is forceful, a little concerned, and a lot frustrated.
"It's just," Jamie hesitates, "It's been years. Why would he put himself at risk, especially knowing what he's walking into?"
Colin shrugs, "It's worth it to him."
Jamie frowns. His Mami came from a homophobic family, and she fled as a result, left with a baby from an ill-fated attempt at heterosexuality. It turned out alright, since she met his Mom, and they built a life together in Canada, and she always tells him it was the best decision she ever made.
He's sure the situations are different, but he just can't imagine anything that would convince his Mami to return, and he's worried for Rowyn. It doesn't seem like a healthy choice.
"I'm just… He hasn't been in a good mindset lately. I'm worried this will do more harm than good," Jamie carefully adds.
Colin shrugs again, not able to disagree exactly.
Jamie has another question ready, when Max marches into the room, something sparking behind their normally calm grey eyes.
They huff in annoyance, and Jamie frowns, gesturing with a wave of his hand for them to explain.
"That's not…" they sigh, rubbing a hand across their forehead, "I get it," they finally say.
Colin looks up at them, eyebrows raised, "You get what?"
"Why he'd go back. They're his siblings."
Jamie groans, "You say that like it's reasonable for him to put himself at risk!"
Max winces, immediately backtracking, "No! No, I did not say I think it's a healthy decision necessarily, but I can understand why he'd go back for them."
They shrug, perching on the edge of the couch across from them. Jamie sighs deeply, annoyed at how little explanation this conversation is offering.
"Care to share with the class?" Colin asks, sarcasm colouring his tone.
"I did!" they exclaim, "I told you it's because of his brothe-" they cut off suddenly, understanding smoothing the frown and they nod to themself, "Right, I forgot you're both only children. Okay, let me think…" they trail off.
Jamie rolls his eyes, having this fact turned against him for the second time in as many days, expecting a "you'd do anything for them" speech. Colin scoffs from next to him, and he sends him a light glare - Colin might be coping with his concern by pretending it's anger, but that doesn't mean he should turn it on them. Max leans back, pauses, then shifts again, now sitting cross-legged and looking at them consideringly.
They look off to the side, deep in thought, "It's hard to explain, but it's like… With parents, you're kind of biologically designed to love them, or have some deep attachment to them, but with siblings you kind of have to choose it - you still fight and have to work through things, but they're always there at the end of the day. They're your best friends growing up; I did everything with Ellie. And as an older sibling, you're always gonna have their back, even though they drive you crazy."
Their eyes shift down to their hands, a finger absentmindedly picking at a nail. Colin looks like he wants to interrupt, but Jamie kicks him, wanting to hear everything Max has to say.
"I learned ASL for her, so she always had someone in her corner. When she got in a fight with her best friend, I held a grudge for way too long. And she's the only one who can really understand what it was like to grow up in our house, because she lived it too, you know? We were always able to share an eyeroll when Mom went on a tangent about the lady in marketing, or we could always laugh together when Dad made another dinner without a recipe. No one else would get that in the same way."
Max suddenly looks at them, as if they'd almost forgotten they had an audience. They laugh awkwardly, and murmur, "So, um, I just get why he'd need to go back for them."
As much as Jamie can understand the sentiment behind what they're saying, it's hard to believe that the bond between siblings (one that hasn't been maintained in years, might he add) would really be strong enough to warrant missing shifts and classes and going back to a homophobic town that you hated.
Max must sense some of his dubiousness, because they groan, running a hand through their hair. "I mean, it was hard for me, when our relationship changed as we grew up, but at least I was still in her life. I talk to Ellie all the time, and I still feel guilty for not being there when she needs me. I can't imagine going years without talking to her, even if it was to protect myself. So I can entirely understand him needing to see them again, and make sure they're happy and healthy."
He nods thoughtfully. He'd never exactly wanted a sibling - he was always happy living in his own world, and he knew how much stress it would add to his parent's lives, especially when his Mami had two jobs and they were working long hours to get by. Hearing Max talk about the experience though, makes him almost wistful.
"He could have told me that," Colin scoffs, glancing at his phone again, "He acts like he's allergic to emotion."
Jamie tunes out his grumbling. It makes sense, from the reverent way Max talked through it, that Rowyn would feel some sort of responsibility towards his brothers. He can almost understand how, despite falling out of touch, Rowyn would jump at the opportunity to know them again, considering the way Max talks about their time with Ellie.
Despite all of this, Jamie still cringes at the idea of him stuck in a stifling, dangerous environment for a whole weekend. Even though he survived years of it before (and if that isn't a depressing thought…)
-- -- --
Part 2: Autonomy
Jamie listens to the phone ring as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. When the call connects, he closes his eyes, body relaxing as Keegan's soft voice filters through the phone.
"Hi," he answers, quietly.
They catch each other up on their days, and then silence settles in.
For a few minutes, there's just the sound of their breathing. Jamie knows Keegan's got to be wondering what's going on - they don't typically call each other, but this wasn't a conversation Jamie thought they could have over text.
Keegan breaks the quiet, voice deep and soothing in that way it gets when he's relaxed, "What's on your mind tonight, bookworm?"
Jamie sighs, his shoulders losing some of their tension. Before he can overthink it anymore than he already has, he asks, his own voice projecting his nervousness, "Can I ask you a kind of hard question?"
"Of course," Keegan answers, a thread of concern present in his tone. Jamie can picture the way his eyebrows are scrunching with worry.
"D'you-" he cuts himself off, restarting hesitantly, "Would you ever want to see your family again?"
He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction, but after a second, nothing comes, and he backtracks immediately, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I know we don't usually talk about them, but I just-"
"It's okay, Jamie," Keegan answers, sounding much more alert. Man, how he wishes he could see his face.
Keegan explains, "I'm just thinking." Of course, he realizes, Keegan always considers his answers to questions carefully, only speaking when he has a formalized idea.
He answers simply, "No, I wouldn't."
Jamie nods, forgetting Keegan can't see him. It makes sense, and honestly is relieving, to know Keegan never wants to be in that situation again. However, it also contradicts everything Max was saying earlier, because…
"Didn't you have a brother, though?" Jamie blurts out, before he can think better of it.
Keegan answers slowly, "I did…" clearly not sure about the direction of this conversation.
There's a moment of consideration, where Jamie considers how much he can reasonably ask, but the phone in his hand buzzes, and he glances at it in confusion.
Keegan's requesting a FaceTime. He smiles, swiping accept, and moving the phone away so it can see his face.
"Hi," he murmurs again, despite having already been talking. It's nice to see Keegan, in his soft green shirt, settled in his bed, hair slightly unkempt.
He chuckles, his eyes scanning Jamie's face through the screen, "Hey," he replies, "What's with all the questions?"
Jamie bites his lip, "Sorry, I know it's not your favourite topic."
Keegan laughs weakly, before frowning at him, "It's alright. I'm just wondering why the sudden interest?"
Eyes darting around the room once before settling on Keegan, Jamie sighs again, finally telling him what's on his mind. "Rowyn went back to his hometown this weekend." It's not his home, he reminds himself, remembering what Colin said that afternoon.
Keegan reads the tension in his voice, suddenly sitting straight up, eyes stern, and voice serious, "Is that a bad thing?"
Jamie hesitates, but then he understands what Keegan's thinking, and jumps to reassure him, "No! Not like that. He's safe, as far as I understand. It's just… it's not a good environment for him - homophobic and the likes. He always seemed really glad to be rid of them, so I just don't entirely get why he'd go back." He pauses, then summarizes Max's description of sibling-hood.
Through the screen, he can see Keegan's eyes squint in the familiar way that means he's analyzing something, and he brightens when he seems to find the answer.
"So you were wondering if I would ever go back to them for Stevie's sake?" he guesses, voice cracking on his name.
"Kind of," Jamie admits, face flushing as his intentions are identified.
Keegan frowns thoughfully, slowly letting his ideas take shape, "There's nothing that would make me go back to them - in fact, if I ever see any of them again it'll be too soon. But I made my peace with that long before I left that place. It wasn't safe for me there, and I had Alix and Jay, so I knew when I left I wasn't going to see them again." His voice wavers for a moment, but he's resolute in his message.
A shard of memory from the conversation earlier floats through his mind; Colin, passionate, declaring "It's his decision to go back".
Keegan's concise explanation makes something spark in Jamie's mind - Was it Rowyn's choice to leave?
He's realizing that he never actually heard the story about how or why he left his hometown and everything he knows has been pieced together from various comments and conversations through the years.
Keegan calls his name, and his attention is diverted from this epiphany, back to his boyfriend. He looks amused, and Jamie can't help but smile back.
In the corner of his screen, he sees his own face reflected back at him, wide eyed, with a soft smile.
"Sorry, just… thinking," he tells Keegan.
He rolls his eyes lightly in response, "I figured," he replies dryly, "Want to tell me?"
Jamie knows it's a genuine offer, that he could use Keegan as a sounding board if he wanted to, but right now he wants to sit with the half-formed idea for awhile.
"That's okay," he tells him, a lot calmer than before, "Not yet - let me flesh things out a bit more."
Keegan understands how sometimes idea have to marinate before they can be put into words, so he doesn't push, letting the conversation flow, until they say goodnight and end the call.
Jamie flops backward, eyes landing on the ceiling. He pulls off his glasses, letting the world blur away in front of him.
As his eyes trace familiar-but-now-blurry shapes, his brain follows unfamiliar paths.
Okay, okay. So, let's say, Rowyn didn't decide to leave his hometown the first time. It was forced on him by his parents or whomever. Wouldn't that make it an even more hostile place to return to?
His mind lands on Keegan's situation. Keegan said he "made his peace" with the idea of never returning, and that even his brother wouldn't change that.
That sounds a lot like what Mami always says - that she'd never go back, and didn't regret leaving. From every story I've heard, she chose to leave; packed a bag in the middle of the night and left in the bed of a pickup truck.
Maybe that's the difference? Since Rowyn didn't make the choice to leave in the same way (at least as far as I know), it feels unfinished? I wonder if he's just going to say goodbye properly, or if he's wanting to reconnect in some way.
"It's his decision to go back," the phrase flickers through his mind again.
This is Roywn expressing his autonomy, he realizes suddenly, This is the Rowyn he knows - the one who's reliable, and practical, but who's also stubborn, and cares so much even if he doesn't always know how to show it, the one who makes a decision and sticks to it.
Hello folks! Alright so, summer turned out to be way more chaotic than anticipated, which is really annoying because I was planning to do so much writing this season. So while new fics are not coming as often as I'd hoped, I am still here all the time, trying to write, reading everything, and caring so much :)
I offer the next instalment of Roywn's arc. There is, unfortunately, no illness in this one - it's lots of talking and context stuff.
-- -- -- -- --
Part 1: Siblings
Jamie's confused. There's no other way to put it, he just doesn't understand. Rowyn was right about that.
He finds Colin in the living room, staring at his phone. The TV plays whatever soccer game is on at the moment, but Colin doesn't seem to really be watching.
Carefully sitting next to him, he nudges Colin. He looks up, muttering a gruff, "What?" Jamie snorts at his grumpiness, so unlike his normal persona.
"Why did Rowyn go back?" he asks plainly, figuring it's best to cut to the chase.
Colin looks confused, "… to see his brothers? It's their Grade 8 graduation."
Jamie sighs fondly, "No, I got that part. It's just-" he huffs in exasperation, trying to find the words, "From everything I've heard, his family sucks. So I just don't really get why he would drop everything to go home? Plus, I hardly even knew he had brothers - he never talks about them!"
Colin's eyes are locked on his, now, "First of all, that's not his home. He's not "going home", that's not what this is for him. You're right, his parents suck ass. And he doesn't talk about his childhood or his brothers because he doesn't want to dwell on it, and is trying to make his own life. It's his decision to go back, and I have to respect it, even if I don't entirely understand." His voice is forceful, a little concerned, and a lot frustrated.
"It's just," Jamie hesitates, "It's been years. Why would he put himself at risk, especially knowing what he's walking into?"
Colin shrugs, "It's worth it to him."
Jamie frowns. His Mami came from a homophobic family, and she fled as a result, left with a baby from an ill-fated attempt at heterosexuality. It turned out alright, since she met his Mom, and they built a life together in Canada, and she always tells him it was the best decision she ever made.
He's sure the situations are different, but he just can't imagine anything that would convince his Mami to return, and he's worried for Rowyn. It doesn't seem like a healthy choice.
"I'm just… He hasn't been in a good mindset lately. I'm worried this will do more harm than good," Jamie carefully adds.
Colin shrugs again, not able to disagree exactly.
Jamie has another question ready, when Max marches into the room, something sparking behind their normally calm grey eyes.
They huff in annoyance, and Jamie frowns, gesturing with a wave of his hand for them to explain.
"That's not…" they sigh, rubbing a hand across their forehead, "I get it," they finally say.
Colin looks up at them, eyebrows raised, "You get what?"
"Why he'd go back. They're his siblings."
Jamie groans, "You say that like it's reasonable for him to put himself at risk!"
Max winces, immediately backtracking, "No! No, I did not say I think it's a healthy decision necessarily, but I can understand why he'd go back for them."
They shrug, perching on the edge of the couch across from them. Jamie sighs deeply, annoyed at how little explanation this conversation is offering.
"Care to share with the class?" Colin asks, sarcasm colouring his tone.
"I did!" they exclaim, "I told you it's because of his brothe-" they cut off suddenly, understanding smoothing the frown and they nod to themself, "Right, I forgot you're both only children. Okay, let me think…" they trail off.
Jamie rolls his eyes, having this fact turned against him for the second time in as many days, expecting a "you'd do anything for them" speech. Colin scoffs from next to him, and he sends him a light glare - Colin might be coping with his concern by pretending it's anger, but that doesn't mean he should turn it on them. Max leans back, pauses, then shifts again, now sitting cross-legged and looking at them consideringly.
They look off to the side, deep in thought, "It's hard to explain, but it's like… With parents, you're kind of biologically designed to love them, or have some deep attachment to them, but with siblings you kind of have to choose it - you still fight and have to work through things, but they're always there at the end of the day. They're your best friends growing up; I did everything with Ellie. And as an older sibling, you're always gonna have their back, even though they drive you crazy."
Their eyes shift down to their hands, a finger absentmindedly picking at a nail. Colin looks like he wants to interrupt, but Jamie kicks him, wanting to hear everything Max has to say.
"I learned ASL for her, so she always had someone in her corner. When she got in a fight with her best friend, I held a grudge for way too long. And she's the only one who can really understand what it was like to grow up in our house, because she lived it too, you know? We were always able to share an eyeroll when Mom went on a tangent about the lady in marketing, or we could always laugh together when Dad made another dinner without a recipe. No one else would get that in the same way."
Max suddenly looks at them, as if they'd almost forgotten they had an audience. They laugh awkwardly, and murmur, "So, um, I just get why he'd need to go back for them."
As much as Jamie can understand the sentiment behind what they're saying, it's hard to believe that the bond between siblings (one that hasn't been maintained in years, might he add) would really be strong enough to warrant missing shifts and classes and going back to a homophobic town that you hated.
Max must sense some of his dubiousness, because they groan, running a hand through their hair. "I mean, it was hard for me, when our relationship changed as we grew up, but at least I was still in her life. I talk to Ellie all the time, and I still feel guilty for not being there when she needs me. I can't imagine going years without talking to her, even if it was to protect myself. So I can entirely understand him needing to see them again, and make sure they're happy and healthy."
He nods thoughtfully. He'd never exactly wanted a sibling - he was always happy living in his own world, and he knew how much stress it would add to his parent's lives, especially when his Mami had two jobs and they were working long hours to get by. Hearing Max talk about the experience though, makes him almost wistful.
"He could have told me that," Colin scoffs, glancing at his phone again, "He acts like he's allergic to emotion."
Jamie tunes out his grumbling. It makes sense, from the reverent way Max talked through it, that Rowyn would feel some sort of responsibility towards his brothers. He can almost understand how, despite falling out of touch, Rowyn would jump at the opportunity to know them again, considering the way Max talks about their time with Ellie.
Despite all of this, Jamie still cringes at the idea of him stuck in a stifling, dangerous environment for a whole weekend. Even though he survived years of it before (and if that isn't a depressing thought…)
-- -- --
Part 2: Autonomy
Jamie listens to the phone ring as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. When the call connects, he closes his eyes, body relaxing as Keegan's soft voice filters through the phone.
"Hi," he answers, quietly.
They catch each other up on their days, and then silence settles in.
For a few minutes, there's just the sound of their breathing. Jamie knows Keegan's got to be wondering what's going on - they don't typically call each other, but this wasn't a conversation Jamie thought they could have over text.
Keegan breaks the quiet, voice deep and soothing in that way it gets when he's relaxed, "What's on your mind tonight, bookworm?"
Jamie sighs, his shoulders losing some of their tension. Before he can overthink it anymore than he already has, he asks, his own voice projecting his nervousness, "Can I ask you a kind of hard question?"
"Of course," Keegan answers, a thread of concern present in his tone. Jamie can picture the way his eyebrows are scrunching with worry.
"D'you-" he cuts himself off, restarting hesitantly, "Would you ever want to see your family again?"
He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction, but after a second, nothing comes, and he backtracks immediately, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I know we don't usually talk about them, but I just-"
"It's okay, Jamie," Keegan answers, sounding much more alert. Man, how he wishes he could see his face.
Keegan explains, "I'm just thinking." Of course, he realizes, Keegan always considers his answers to questions carefully, only speaking when he has a formalized idea.
He answers simply, "No, I wouldn't."
Jamie nods, forgetting Keegan can't see him. It makes sense, and honestly is relieving, to know Keegan never wants to be in that situation again. However, it also contradicts everything Max was saying earlier, because…
"Didn't you have a brother, though?" Jamie blurts out, before he can think better of it.
Keegan answers slowly, "I did…" clearly not sure about the direction of this conversation.
There's a moment of consideration, where Jamie considers how much he can reasonably ask, but the phone in his hand buzzes, and he glances at it in confusion.
Keegan's requesting a FaceTime. He smiles, swiping accept, and moving the phone away so it can see his face.
"Hi," he murmurs again, despite having already been talking. It's nice to see Keegan, in his soft green shirt, settled in his bed, hair slightly unkempt.
He chuckles, his eyes scanning Jamie's face through the screen, "Hey," he replies, "What's with all the questions?"
Jamie bites his lip, "Sorry, I know it's not your favourite topic."
Keegan laughs weakly, before frowning at him, "It's alright. I'm just wondering why the sudden interest?"
Eyes darting around the room once before settling on Keegan, Jamie sighs again, finally telling him what's on his mind. "Rowyn went back to his hometown this weekend." It's not his home, he reminds himself, remembering what Colin said that afternoon.
Keegan reads the tension in his voice, suddenly sitting straight up, eyes stern, and voice serious, "Is that a bad thing?"
Jamie hesitates, but then he understands what Keegan's thinking, and jumps to reassure him, "No! Not like that. He's safe, as far as I understand. It's just… it's not a good environment for him - homophobic and the likes. He always seemed really glad to be rid of them, so I just don't entirely get why he'd go back." He pauses, then summarizes Max's description of sibling-hood.
Through the screen, he can see Keegan's eyes squint in the familiar way that means he's analyzing something, and he brightens when he seems to find the answer.
"So you were wondering if I would ever go back to them for Stevie's sake?" he guesses, voice cracking on his name.
"Kind of," Jamie admits, face flushing as his intentions are identified.
Keegan frowns thoughfully, slowly letting his ideas take shape, "There's nothing that would make me go back to them - in fact, if I ever see any of them again it'll be too soon. But I made my peace with that long before I left that place. It wasn't safe for me there, and I had Alix and Jay, so I knew when I left I wasn't going to see them again." His voice wavers for a moment, but he's resolute in his message.
A shard of memory from the conversation earlier floats through his mind; Colin, passionate, declaring "It's his decision to go back".
Keegan's concise explanation makes something spark in Jamie's mind - Was it Rowyn's choice to leave?
He's realizing that he never actually heard the story about how or why he left his hometown and everything he knows has been pieced together from various comments and conversations through the years.
Keegan calls his name, and his attention is diverted from this epiphany, back to his boyfriend. He looks amused, and Jamie can't help but smile back.
In the corner of his screen, he sees his own face reflected back at him, wide eyed, with a soft smile.
"Sorry, just… thinking," he tells Keegan.
He rolls his eyes lightly in response, "I figured," he replies dryly, "Want to tell me?"
Jamie knows it's a genuine offer, that he could use Keegan as a sounding board if he wanted to, but right now he wants to sit with the half-formed idea for awhile.
"That's okay," he tells him, a lot calmer than before, "Not yet - let me flesh things out a bit more."
Keegan understands how sometimes idea have to marinate before they can be put into words, so he doesn't push, letting the conversation flow, until they say goodnight and end the call.
Jamie flops backward, eyes landing on the ceiling. He pulls off his glasses, letting the world blur away in front of him.
As his eyes trace familiar-but-now-blurry shapes, his brain follows unfamiliar paths.
Okay, okay. So, let's say, Rowyn didn't decide to leave his hometown the first time. It was forced on him by his parents or whomever. Wouldn't that make it an even more hostile place to return to?
His mind lands on Keegan's situation. Keegan said he "made his peace" with the idea of never returning, and that even his brother wouldn't change that.
That sounds a lot like what Mami always says - that she'd never go back, and didn't regret leaving. From every story I've heard, she chose to leave; packed a bag in the middle of the night and left in the bed of a pickup truck.
Maybe that's the difference? Since Rowyn didn't make the choice to leave in the same way (at least as far as I know), it feels unfinished? I wonder if he's just going to say goodbye properly, or if he's wanting to reconnect in some way.
"It's his decision to go back," the phrase flickers through his mind again.
This is Roywn expressing his autonomy, he realizes suddenly, This is the Rowyn he knows - the one who's reliable, and practical, but who's also stubborn, and cares so much even if he doesn't always know how to show it, the one who makes a decision and sticks to it.
Okay so, I'm working on planning out The Dinner Fic this evening - AKA Rowyn's reunion with his family and all that fun stuff
I have so many ideas about how I want to play this, and it's been floating around in my head as an "eventual" for years at this point, so I'm very ready to finally bring it to light.
However...
What do you want this to look like illness-wise? I've played with a few ideas, and any could work
Okay so, I'm working on planning out The Dinner Fic this evening - AKA Rowyn's reunion with his family and all that fun stuff
I have so many ideas about how I want to play this, and it's been floating around in my head as an "eventual" for years at this point, so I'm very ready to finally bring it to light.
However...
What do you want this to look like illness-wise? I've played with a few ideas, and any could work
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Hello folks! Alright so, summer turned out to be way more chaotic than anticipated, which is really annoying because I was planning to do so much writing this season. So while new fics are not coming as often as I'd hoped, I am still here all the time, trying to write, reading everything, and caring so much :)
I offer the next instalment of Roywn's arc. There is, unfortunately, no illness in this one - it's lots of talking and context stuff.
-- -- -- -- --
Part 1: Siblings
Jamie's confused. There's no other way to put it, he just doesn't understand. Rowyn was right about that.
He finds Colin in the living room, staring at his phone. The TV plays whatever soccer game is on at the moment, but Colin doesn't seem to really be watching.
Carefully sitting next to him, he nudges Colin. He looks up, muttering a gruff, "What?" Jamie snorts at his grumpiness, so unlike his normal persona.
"Why did Rowyn go back?" he asks plainly, figuring it's best to cut to the chase.
Colin looks confused, "… to see his brothers? It's their Grade 8 graduation."
Jamie sighs fondly, "No, I got that part. It's just-" he huffs in exasperation, trying to find the words, "From everything I've heard, his family sucks. So I just don't really get why he would drop everything to go home? Plus, I hardly even knew he had brothers - he never talks about them!"
Colin's eyes are locked on his, now, "First of all, that's not his home. He's not "going home", that's not what this is for him. You're right, his parents suck ass. And he doesn't talk about his childhood or his brothers because he doesn't want to dwell on it, and is trying to make his own life. It's his decision to go back, and I have to respect it, even if I don't entirely understand." His voice is forceful, a little concerned, and a lot frustrated.
"It's just," Jamie hesitates, "It's been years. Why would he put himself at risk, especially knowing what he's walking into?"
Colin shrugs, "It's worth it to him."
Jamie frowns. His Mami came from a homophobic family, and she fled as a result, left with a baby from an ill-fated attempt at heterosexuality. It turned out alright, since she met his Mom, and they built a life together in Canada, and she always tells him it was the best decision she ever made.
He's sure the situations are different, but he just can't imagine anything that would convince his Mami to return, and he's worried for Rowyn. It doesn't seem like a healthy choice.
"I'm just… He hasn't been in a good mindset lately. I'm worried this will do more harm than good," Jamie carefully adds.
Colin shrugs again, not able to disagree exactly.
Jamie has another question ready, when Max marches into the room, something sparking behind their normally calm grey eyes.
They huff in annoyance, and Jamie frowns, gesturing with a wave of his hand for them to explain.
"That's not…" they sigh, rubbing a hand across their forehead, "I get it," they finally say.
Colin looks up at them, eyebrows raised, "You get what?"
"Why he'd go back. They're his siblings."
Jamie groans, "You say that like it's reasonable for him to put himself at risk!"
Max winces, immediately backtracking, "No! No, I did not say I think it's a healthy decision necessarily, but I can understand why he'd go back for them."
They shrug, perching on the edge of the couch across from them. Jamie sighs deeply, annoyed at how little explanation this conversation is offering.
"Care to share with the class?" Colin asks, sarcasm colouring his tone.
"I did!" they exclaim, "I told you it's because of his brothe-" they cut off suddenly, understanding smoothing the frown and they nod to themself, "Right, I forgot you're both only children. Okay, let me think…" they trail off.
Jamie rolls his eyes, having this fact turned against him for the second time in as many days, expecting a "you'd do anything for them" speech. Colin scoffs from next to him, and he sends him a light glare - Colin might be coping with his concern by pretending it's anger, but that doesn't mean he should turn it on them. Max leans back, pauses, then shifts again, now sitting cross-legged and looking at them consideringly.
They look off to the side, deep in thought, "It's hard to explain, but it's like… With parents, you're kind of biologically designed to love them, or have some deep attachment to them, but with siblings you kind of have to choose it - you still fight and have to work through things, but they're always there at the end of the day. They're your best friends growing up; I did everything with Ellie. And as an older sibling, you're always gonna have their back, even though they drive you crazy."
Their eyes shift down to their hands, a finger absentmindedly picking at a nail. Colin looks like he wants to interrupt, but Jamie kicks him, wanting to hear everything Max has to say.
"I learned ASL for her, so she always had someone in her corner. When she got in a fight with her best friend, I held a grudge for way too long. And she's the only one who can really understand what it was like to grow up in our house, because she lived it too, you know? We were always able to share an eyeroll when Mom went on a tangent about the lady in marketing, or we could always laugh together when Dad made another dinner without a recipe. No one else would get that in the same way."
Max suddenly looks at them, as if they'd almost forgotten they had an audience. They laugh awkwardly, and murmur, "So, um, I just get why he'd need to go back for them."
As much as Jamie can understand the sentiment behind what they're saying, it's hard to believe that the bond between siblings (one that hasn't been maintained in years, might he add) would really be strong enough to warrant missing shifts and classes and going back to a homophobic town that you hated.
Max must sense some of his dubiousness, because they groan, running a hand through their hair. "I mean, it was hard for me, when our relationship changed as we grew up, but at least I was still in her life. I talk to Ellie all the time, and I still feel guilty for not being there when she needs me. I can't imagine going years without talking to her, even if it was to protect myself. So I can entirely understand him needing to see them again, and make sure they're happy and healthy."
He nods thoughtfully. He'd never exactly wanted a sibling - he was always happy living in his own world, and he knew how much stress it would add to his parent's lives, especially when his Mami had two jobs and they were working long hours to get by. Hearing Max talk about the experience though, makes him almost wistful.
"He could have told me that," Colin scoffs, glancing at his phone again, "He acts like he's allergic to emotion."
Jamie tunes out his grumbling. It makes sense, from the reverent way Max talked through it, that Rowyn would feel some sort of responsibility towards his brothers. He can almost understand how, despite falling out of touch, Rowyn would jump at the opportunity to know them again, considering the way Max talks about their time with Ellie.
Despite all of this, Jamie still cringes at the idea of him stuck in a stifling, dangerous environment for a whole weekend. Even though he survived years of it before (and if that isn't a depressing thought…)
-- -- --
Part 2: Autonomy
Jamie listens to the phone ring as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. When the call connects, he closes his eyes, body relaxing as Keegan's soft voice filters through the phone.
"Hi," he answers, quietly.
They catch each other up on their days, and then silence settles in.
For a few minutes, there's just the sound of their breathing. Jamie knows Keegan's got to be wondering what's going on - they don't typically call each other, but this wasn't a conversation Jamie thought they could have over text.
Keegan breaks the quiet, voice deep and soothing in that way it gets when he's relaxed, "What's on your mind tonight, bookworm?"
Jamie sighs, his shoulders losing some of their tension. Before he can overthink it anymore than he already has, he asks, his own voice projecting his nervousness, "Can I ask you a kind of hard question?"
"Of course," Keegan answers, a thread of concern present in his tone. Jamie can picture the way his eyebrows are scrunching with worry.
"D'you-" he cuts himself off, restarting hesitantly, "Would you ever want to see your family again?"
He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction, but after a second, nothing comes, and he backtracks immediately, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I know we don't usually talk about them, but I just-"
"It's okay, Jamie," Keegan answers, sounding much more alert. Man, how he wishes he could see his face.
Keegan explains, "I'm just thinking." Of course, he realizes, Keegan always considers his answers to questions carefully, only speaking when he has a formalized idea.
He answers simply, "No, I wouldn't."
Jamie nods, forgetting Keegan can't see him. It makes sense, and honestly is relieving, to know Keegan never wants to be in that situation again. However, it also contradicts everything Max was saying earlier, because…
"Didn't you have a brother, though?" Jamie blurts out, before he can think better of it.
Keegan answers slowly, "I did…" clearly not sure about the direction of this conversation.
There's a moment of consideration, where Jamie considers how much he can reasonably ask, but the phone in his hand buzzes, and he glances at it in confusion.
Keegan's requesting a FaceTime. He smiles, swiping accept, and moving the phone away so it can see his face.
"Hi," he murmurs again, despite having already been talking. It's nice to see Keegan, in his soft green shirt, settled in his bed, hair slightly unkempt.
He chuckles, his eyes scanning Jamie's face through the screen, "Hey," he replies, "What's with all the questions?"
Jamie bites his lip, "Sorry, I know it's not your favourite topic."
Keegan laughs weakly, before frowning at him, "It's alright. I'm just wondering why the sudden interest?"
Eyes darting around the room once before settling on Keegan, Jamie sighs again, finally telling him what's on his mind. "Rowyn went back to his hometown this weekend." It's not his home, he reminds himself, remembering what Colin said that afternoon.
Keegan reads the tension in his voice, suddenly sitting straight up, eyes stern, and voice serious, "Is that a bad thing?"
Jamie hesitates, but then he understands what Keegan's thinking, and jumps to reassure him, "No! Not like that. He's safe, as far as I understand. It's just… it's not a good environment for him - homophobic and the likes. He always seemed really glad to be rid of them, so I just don't entirely get why he'd go back." He pauses, then summarizes Max's description of sibling-hood.
Through the screen, he can see Keegan's eyes squint in the familiar way that means he's analyzing something, and he brightens when he seems to find the answer.
"So you were wondering if I would ever go back to them for Stevie's sake?" he guesses, voice cracking on his name.
"Kind of," Jamie admits, face flushing as his intentions are identified.
Keegan frowns thoughfully, slowly letting his ideas take shape, "There's nothing that would make me go back to them - in fact, if I ever see any of them again it'll be too soon. But I made my peace with that long before I left that place. It wasn't safe for me there, and I had Alix and Jay, so I knew when I left I wasn't going to see them again." His voice wavers for a moment, but he's resolute in his message.
A shard of memory from the conversation earlier floats through his mind; Colin, passionate, declaring "It's his decision to go back".
Keegan's concise explanation makes something spark in Jamie's mind - Was it Rowyn's choice to leave?
He's realizing that he never actually heard the story about how or why he left his hometown and everything he knows has been pieced together from various comments and conversations through the years.
Keegan calls his name, and his attention is diverted from this epiphany, back to his boyfriend. He looks amused, and Jamie can't help but smile back.
In the corner of his screen, he sees his own face reflected back at him, wide eyed, with a soft smile.
"Sorry, just… thinking," he tells Keegan.
He rolls his eyes lightly in response, "I figured," he replies dryly, "Want to tell me?"
Jamie knows it's a genuine offer, that he could use Keegan as a sounding board if he wanted to, but right now he wants to sit with the half-formed idea for awhile.
"That's okay," he tells him, a lot calmer than before, "Not yet - let me flesh things out a bit more."
Keegan understands how sometimes idea have to marinate before they can be put into words, so he doesn't push, letting the conversation flow, until they say goodnight and end the call.
Jamie flops backward, eyes landing on the ceiling. He pulls off his glasses, letting the world blur away in front of him.
As his eyes trace familiar-but-now-blurry shapes, his brain follows unfamiliar paths.
Okay, okay. So, let's say, Rowyn didn't decide to leave his hometown the first time. It was forced on him by his parents or whomever. Wouldn't that make it an even more hostile place to return to?
His mind lands on Keegan's situation. Keegan said he "made his peace" with the idea of never returning, and that even his brother wouldn't change that.
That sounds a lot like what Mami always says - that she'd never go back, and didn't regret leaving. From every story I've heard, she chose to leave; packed a bag in the middle of the night and left in the bed of a pickup truck.
Maybe that's the difference? Since Rowyn didn't make the choice to leave in the same way (at least as far as I know), it feels unfinished? I wonder if he's just going to say goodbye properly, or if he's wanting to reconnect in some way.
"It's his decision to go back," the phrase flickers through his mind again.
This is Roywn expressing his autonomy, he realizes suddenly, This is the Rowyn he knows - the one who's reliable, and practical, but who's also stubborn, and cares so much even if he doesn't always know how to show it, the one who makes a decision and sticks to it.
written, as always, with @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak
-----
New Year's day. Bright and early. Crisp and cold outside. Daichi's apartment was silent, the heavy curtains still drawn to hide the winter sun. Oliver had only stayed up long enough to watch the ball drop, and Daichi had been asleep long before that. They were both still out cold when the silence in the apartment was broken by a thunderous knocking at the door.
Oliver groaned, rolling out of the guest bed and groping around the nightstand until he found his glasses. Sticking his head into the master bedroom, he saw Daichi struggling to sit up. “I got it,” he assured. “Go back to sleep.”
Daichi couldn't argue, crumpling back into his pillows with a low moan. Talking was almost impossible for him anyway, with the wire holding his jaw in place, but quite apart from that he had woken feeling dizzy and disoriented and headache-y. Even opening his eyes was a chore, let alone getting out of bed while his head flopped around on his neck like a bowling ball.
From his room, Daichi couldn't quite make out Oliver's conversation, but the other voice coming from the front door sounded familiar. As he fought to place it, the visitor's volume rose, words more distinctly audible now.
“You can't be serious! Of course he wants to see me.”
Brynlee.
Daichi felt a heavy dread sink into his chest. His girlfriend had been sending him texts as she got ready for a New Year's Eve party yesterday, but Oliver had quickly confiscated Daichi's phone, reminding him that he wasn't supposed to be staring at screens. The rest of the night had been slow and lonely, with only the pain in his jaw to keep him company. He tried not to think about the party he should've been at. The friends he should've seen. The girlfriend he should've kissed at midnight. He hadn't even been awake at midnight to send a ‘happy new year’ text. But now, actually confronted with the prospect of human interaction, there was nothing in the world he wanted less.
At the same time, he felt guilty. Surely Brynlee missed him, too - if she didn't care, she wouldn't message him constantly to keep in touch. Surely he was doing wrong by her just lying in bed and leaving Oliver to deal with it. Surely it was the least he could do to go say hello.
Getting out of bed was more of a battle than Daichi anticipated. Sitting up, a brutal wave of vertigo hit him like a brick, and he was forced to clutch at the mattress for stability. As his balance slowly crept back, he pulled the duvet up over his shoulders, shambling out into the living room on wobbly legs.
“Now's really not a good -”
Oliver broke off, head whipping round as he heard the creak of a floorboard behind him. His face dropped immediately from stony frustration to exasperated concern as he pointed a finger sharply at Daichi.
“No. Lie back down. What the fuck, dude?”
“‘m fine,” Daichi mumbled, shuffling closer despite Oliver's instructions. “‘s fine. Let her in.” He turned to Brynlee, forcing his aching face into a weak smile. “Hey, babe. ‘d you have a good time at your party?”
Squeezing past Oliver, Brynlee strolled inside and looped her arms around Daichi's neck, pecking a careful kiss on his cheek. “Well,” she sighed, “The bartender was great, and I looked really hot. But your teammates were super weird to me.”
Oliver rolled his eyes, closing the door and turning around to cross his arms at her. “Maybe because you showed up latched onto some other guy instead of spending the night with your boyfriend,” he suggested drily.
“‘m sorry,” Daichi murmured, ignoring his brother to wrap an arm around Brynlee, one hand pressed into the small of her back. “They're just weird guys anyway, you know that right? Like, that's hockey.”
“You're not weird, though,” Brynlee said, nuzzling into his chest. “You're the best.”
“Well, exception that proves the rule or whatever,” Daichi shrugged, giving her a squeeze. “You wanna drink or something? I've got… I've got…” His face scrunched in desperate thought, but he eventually turned to Oliver with a defeated sigh. “What do we have?”
Oliver swallowed his prepared remark about the misuse of a common idiom, his smarmyness dissolving into concern at the pained, helpless look on Daichi's face. “Orange juice. Gatorade. Could make coffee.”
“Oooh, an iced latte?” Brynlee brightened, smiling hopefully over at Oliver. “You still have that hazelnut syrup, right babe?”
“Uh…”
“I'll look,” Oliver shrugged, turning towards the kitchen. “Make him sit down.”
Brynlee blinked, having seemingly forgotten about Daichi's situation for a moment. “Oh, right!” She looked up at him with a stern expression that didn't quite read seriously on her soft features. “Come on. Couch,” she ordered, pushing Daichi towards the sofa. He moved much more easily than expected, her gentle shove nearly tipping him over as he crumpled into the seat. Brynlee giggled, plopping down beside him and snuggling up. He sighed tiredly, tugging her in close.
“Tell me more about the party,” he said, tipping his head back against the cushions.
“Well, the venue was unreal,” Brynlee chattered, eager in her excitement. “Like, super grand, arc deco vibe. I got amazing photos on the staircase, Sven must have had a girlfriend back in Sweden because he is well trained.”
Oliver snorted derisively at her last comment, but Brynlee was thankfully focused on Daichi's reactions. He was slow to process her words, nodding gingerly. “Yeah, that's… super good. Glad you found a good dude.”
“You already had a good dude waiting at home,” Oliver grumbled, speaking in Japanese so he could gossip freely. His scowl faded slightly when he saw Daichi grimace.
“Not now, Ollie,” he begged.
Brynlee pouted. “Are you talking about me? What did he say? What are you saying?”
“Just an old inside joke,” Oliver said quickly. “We had a lot of jokes about hockey guys growing up.”
“Yeah, babe,” Daichi said. He rubbed his mouth, trying not to slur his words the way he had been every time a headache came on. Not now, he thought miserably. Not yet. “Don't worry about it, he's an idiot. Tell me about the food.”
“Oh my God, it was so good!” She gushed. “There were little fancy sandwiches and veggies cut into cute shapes and charcuterie boards with weird cheese and these little dumpling things that I don't know what they were called but they were so cute!”
Though it wasn't intentional, her pitch rose as she got more excited, and Daichi strained to keep a neutral expression. “That's nice,” he mumbled.
Brynlee nodded eagerly. “It was so nice and it was all so good and I looked so hot. I got tons of pictures, didn't you see them?”
Daichi nodded. He felt a little sick.
“Y’ looked good,” he agreed.
“He can't look at screens,” Oliver said flatly, appearing from the kitchen with an iced coffee in a tall glass. “I took his phone off him after the first twenty pictures.”
Brynlee's face fell. “You didn't see my midnight pictures?” She asked sadly.
“I was asleep,” Daichi said quietly. “You can show me now.”
“No, you can't.” Oliver's tone sharpened, and he leaned deliberately between them to hand Brynlee her coffee. He made eye contact with her, stern and serious as he repeated, “He can't. Look. At screens.”
“Not even for like…five minutes?”
“I can look for five minutes,” Daichi promised, “just turn the brightness down.”
“You already have a headache,” Oliver grumbled. “You're gonna wreck yourself.”
“Ollie, stop it,” Daichi said firmly, switching once more to Japanese. “I'm not a child.”
“No, you're just humoring one.” Oliver snapped back.
“Stop.” Daichi repeated. “If you're so bothered, leave.”
Oliver scowled. “God forbid I care about my brother,” he grumbled, stalking off towards the guest room nonetheless. Though he had no desire to be around Brynlee, he didn't actually want to go far, knowing Daichi would need him before long.
Daichi let out a tense sigh. “Sorry about that,” he said, turning back to Brynlee. “Show me your pictures.”
Although she had watched the interaction like a tennis match, Brynlee was quickly distracted. She scrolled through her phone, telling Daichi about all the people that she'd met and how many compliments she'd got on her dress. He nodded along, offering as many of his own compliments as he could muster, but his mind was quickly starting to struggle. Each new image flashing on the screen stabbed was an ice pick piercing his skull, and he felt flashes of pain in his jaw with every unbidden grimace. Blissfully ignorant to it all, Brynlee continued to talk.
“And this one was right at midnight, when the ball dropped!” She chirped, looking at him expectantly for a response. To her frustration, Daichi was silent. “See? Don't I look good?”
“Mmhmm…”
He couldn't look at the phone any longer. Trying not to groan, he blinked several times. Colour flashed behind his eyelids.
“Did you even look at it?” Brynlee asked, dissatisfied with his response.
“I did. Y’looked great, Brynn,” Daichi said, struggling to keep his words coherent. His vision had started to blur, the glow from her phone agonizingly bright even in his peripheral.
“Well, Sven liked it.”
“Uh huh…”
He blinked again, squeezing his fingers into his thigh in a vain attempt to…what? Distract himself from the growing discomfort in his head? Steady himself as vertigo swelled in his chest?
“Daichi?” Brynlee’s voice warped and warbled in his ears. “Are you listening? I have more pictures to show you.”
“Uhhhh… maybe ‘n a minute,” he slurred, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation.
“Baby?”
Her fingers found his jaw and he hissed in pain, jerking away. The room tilted sharply. Brynlee wrung her hands, unsure of what to do.
“Daichi? What's wrong?” She asked, desperate for direction.
“Ollie,” he croaked desperately, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Need…”
Brynlee frowned, looking around to see where the older Jansen had gone. “Oh, shit, uh… Oliver?” She called out.
As if waiting in the rafters, he swooped down upon them in seconds, flashing Brynlee a sharp glare. “Don't shout. He's already in pain.”
He crouched down, squeezing Daichi’s shoulder.
“Don't feel good,” Daichi mumbled, folding forwards to burying his eyes in Oliver's shirt.
“You wanna lie down, bud? I can get you a shot for the pain.”
“Please…”
“A shot?” Brynlee pouted. “He doesn't like needles. That's why we didn't get tattoos together.”
“Well, he'll have this one,” Oliver said shortly. He hooked his arm around Daichi's back, slinging his brother's big arm over his shoulder. “Alright, up we go. God, you weigh a ton.”
“Sorry,” Daichi mumbled, clutching Oliver tighter to stay upright.
“No, you're fine,” Oliver muttered, still straining under the weight. “I'm sorry I don't go to the gym anymore. For both our sake.”
“Don’ put your back out,” Daichi said, clinging harder to Oliver. It was unclear whether he was teasing or seriously concerned.
“Yeah, it's not on the agenda,” Oliver assured him.
Brynlee hopped up from the couch to follow after them. “Don't drop him!” She fussed, the shrillness of her worry arcing like lightning through Daichi's head. He whimpered, and Oliver hushed him gently.
“Stay out here,” he said firmly to Brynlee. “Come on, let's get you lying down.”
“But I want to help,” she protested, hurrying ahead before Oliver could shut her out.
“Then get out of the way,” he snapped.
Daichi flinched, face pressing into Oliver's shoulder.
“Don’ fight,” he begged. “Please. Hurts.”
Oliver sighed. “Right. Sorry,” he said quietly.
Brynlee, in a rare moment of good judgement, stepped aside so Daichi could be brought into the bedroom. She still hovered at his elbow, fussing quietly, but at least allowed Oliver to work.
“Here,” Oliver said, lowering Daichi down as gently as he could onto the bed. “Lie down, there you go. Let me just…” He lifted Daichi's legs up before tugging the duvet over him. “I'll be right back, yeah?”
“Feel like shit,” Daichi lamented, slinging an arm over his eyes to hide from the light.
“It's okay, baby,” Brynlee crooned, perching on the edge of the bed. The movement made Daichi groan, and she stroked her fingers through his hair, oblivious to her own fault in his discomfort. “Shhh, you're okay.”
He flinched again, moaning softly. The pain wasn't so bad as when he truly had a migraine, but the dizziness… God, the dizziness was unbearable. Even his own breath moved the mattress an unbearable amount, and it was all he could do to stay still against Brynlee's hand. He hoped Oliver would be back soon. Hopefully the shot would knock him out for a bit and he could get a moment's peace from the sickening spin of the world underneath him.
“Okay.” Daichi wasn't sure when Oliver had returned to the room, but suddenly he was at his bedside and a cool hand was lifting his pyjama shirt. “Little pinch in three, two…”
Though he managed not to flinch, Daichi let out a little involuntary whimper. Brynlee stroked his hair, continuing to shush him and ignoring the nasty look she was getting from Oliver.
“Okay, there you go. All done,” Oliver said, sticking the needle into the sharps container that now lived on Daichi's bedside. “Hopefully you can get some rest now,” he added, looking pointedly at Brynlee.
“I can be quiet,” she said, turning back to Daichi with a little huff.
“No.” Oliver stood up, gesturing for her to leave. “He needs rest. You can sit quietly in the living room if you want to stay so badly.”
“Well, if you want me gone so badly, I'll just leave,” Brynlee said, obviously hurt.
Though he couldn't have wanted company less, her tone sent a pang of guilt through Daichi's chest. “No, you c’n… she c’n stay. ‘s okay, Ollie.” he mumbled.
“No, she can't,” Oliver said firmly. “The doctors were very clear that you should be allowed to rest. You have a fucking brain injury, we're not fucking around with this.”
“So you think I don't care about him?” Brynlee asked incredulously. Offense swelled in her chest, and she stood from the bed with careless speed. The movement made Daichi groan, but she was distracted, turning her back to Oliver and stalking off out of the room. “I don't have to deal with this kind of disrespect.”
“Sorry bud,” Oliver muttered, glancing down at Daichi. “Had to be done. You get some sleep now, the drugs should kick in in a minute. I'll be outside if you need anything.”
“Don' go yet,” Daichi begged, one clumsy hand grabbing for Oliver. Then the front door slammed, and Daichi recoiled like he'd been shot, the sound reverberating violently in his head.
“Christ,” Oliver hissed, a poisonous glare whipping around as if he could follow Brynlee’s retreat down the corridor. Behind him, Daichi whimpered, and his attention quickly returned to what actually mattered. “It's okay,” he breathed, voice barely more than a thought. “You want me to stay? I'll stay.”
“Cuddle,” Daichi demanded, tugging weakly on Oliver's sleeve.
“Sure,” Oliver sighed, toeing his sliders off and slipping into Daichi's obnoxiously large bed. Immediately, Daichi curled against him, creased forehead pressing into his shirt.
Oliver wrapped an arm lazily around his brother, thinking back nearly twenty years ago to when he was actually bigger than Daichi. Though they were the closest in age, Oliver was still the oldest, and Daichi would come to him for help with homework, or video game bosses, or even just because he was having a bad day and wanted some company. How simple things had been back then.
Absent-mindedly, he traced gentle circles over Daichi's shoulder and back. Bit by bit, he felt his brother relax into him as the medicine kicked in. Oliver sighed softly. He couldn't do much about the pain. He couldn't speed up the healing. And he, unfortunately, couldn't do anything about Brynlee. But at least he could be there.
The flow of customers. The cacophony of voices and the coffee machine and the blender. The repetition of the same typical customer-service routine.
Smile.
Say hello.
Take the order.
Make the order.
Say, "Have a good day!"
But all it took was one entitled bitch—showing up in her skin-tight pink yoga pants and compression jacket, blonde hair extensions framing her face, looking like a younger version of Spirit's own mother—who ruined everything.
She came in, and Spirit had been unfortunate enough to be at the register. In a huff, she spat out her order faster than Spirit could put it in the computer, and in excruciating detail no less.
"I want a venti iced mocha latte. Quad blonde ristretto shots. Half-caf. Two pumps brown sugar, one sugar-free vanilla, half a pump toffee nut. Half oat, half heavy cream. Light ice. Extra cinnamon. Cold foam, but light. Add one packet of raw sugar. Double-cup it. Don't shake it too much, and I want a fetta wrap."
It had all been said in one breath, and when Spirit kept her smile on and tried to ask her to repeat, the girl huffed and rolled her eyes.
"Seriously? I'm in a time crunch here! Are you deaf or stupid? I gave you my order."
"Miss, I just want to be sure I understand your order so I can-"
"Should I speak slower?" she scoffed.
Spirit wanted to bite back, Yeah, that's literally what I'm asking you to do, you plastic-brained bimbo. Her jaw was starting to clench so tightly while forcing a smile that she couldn't even say anything for a minute.
"Are you retarded?" the bitch suddenly spat.
God, I hate people like this. Spirit took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Miss. But really, I just want to hear your order one more time, just to make sure it's exactly to your liking."
The girl groaned and rolled her eyes, and then repeated her order in a patronizing manner, slow and exaggerated. Spirit could practically feel the vein in her neck starting to bulge, but she just wrote down the exact order.
"Alright then. Can I get your name?"
"Caileigh. Spelled c-a-i-l-e-i-g-h. Got that?" she asked as if talking to a child.
Spirit nodded. "Your order will be out soon."
She went to stand right by the pick-up counter, staring at Spirit the entire time she worked on the drink. Spirit made it perfect, exactly as the girl had asked.
When the drink was done, Spirit called Caileigh's name. The girl picked up her drink. Took a sip.
Before Spirit could walk away, the drink hit her shoulder.
Coffee and cream exploded all over her clothes and hair and the floor, ice cubes down her shirt. She gasped, stumbling and slipping on the liquid, bracing against the counter.
"You really are stupid!" the girl yelled. "Are you kidding me? This is disgustingly sweet! How much sugar did you put in this?"
Spirit just stared at her, mouth agape.
Then, she lost it.
"The fuck is your problem?!" she yelled, storming around the counter to get in the girl's face. The girl's eyes widened as she was made abruptly aware of how much taller Spirit was than her, almost a full-foot height difference. "I made your goddamn order exactly the way you ordered it! Why is it 'so sweet'? You asked for brown sugar, regular sugar, mocha, toffee, cold foam, and even though sugar-free vanilla is 'sugar-free', it's still fucking sweet! You think I'm stupid? More like you're a conceited bitch with a stick so far up your ass that everything that comes out of your filler-fattened mouth is absolute shit!"
By then, Spirit's boss had come out, yelling at Spirit for 'causing a scene' and 'disrespecting the customers'.
Spirit scoffed at her boss. "Oh my FUCKING GOD! Don't give me that 'the customer is always right' BULLSHIT!"
"Do you want to be fired?!"
"No need. I fucking quit!" She ripped off her coffee-stained green apron and threw it at her manager. "I don't need to take this shit anymore!"
And that was that.
Still lost in the blur of events, Spirit got to her car and drove with astonishing calmness all the way to her dorm building. She made her way up all of the stairs, and all the way down to her shitty dorm, and shut the door with a slight slam.
She stood there. Hand on the knob. Staring at nothing.
Then, it hit her.
She just quit her job.
Her thoughts came in a rush. The only reason she had that job was because her job at the music store at the mall was barely enough to cover her car's gas and a phone bill, much less food and hygiene products and medicine and everything else a person needs on a regular basis to just live. What was she gonna do? Apply to another job? It was pure luck that she'd gotten that job in the first place!
Her chest felt tight, her breaths going shallower and shallower till she felt herself holding the air in her chest, not daring to inhale or exhale, her whole body trembling.
When she managed a breath at last, she stormed over to her bed, grabbing her pillow and shoving her face into it, screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a scream that made her throat hurt, her head throbbing. "FUCK!" she yelled. "DAMMIT!"
Breathing hard, she lowered the pillow, throwing it back onto the bed.
Her fists clenched with anger. She imagined herself grabbing that bitch by her extensions, shoving her to the ground, wailing on her with her fists over and over and over and-
Spirit stopped. Her chest hurt. A migraine was starting to pulse horribly in the back of her head, making her wince.
She still had coffee all over her, making her skin and hair feel sticky.
She wanted to shower.
And, with a jolt, she realized she wanted something else too.
Something she hadn't wanted in years, but desperation to rid herself of the gnawing anxiety and the pain in her head and chest. She couldn't quite put a name to the desire for a moment. Then, it came to her, along with a hurricane of memories and caution and fear and guilt.
Ignore the thought, she told herself. It's been years. Don't let yourself go back. Don't. Please.
But she felt horrible, and she wanted the feeling gone. A little, she bargained with herself. A little bit. It'll be fine. She chuckled wetly, feeling dangerously close to tears, way too many emotions fighting against each other as she walked to her door again.
Several doors down the hall was a girl named Val. The chick was some kind of an arts major, and was well known in the dorms for one thing.
Spirit knocked on Val's door. A groan answered her, followed by a few thumping foot steps. The door opened, and Spirit got a face-full of smoke. The girl's pupils were dilated so wide that Spirit wondered just how high it was possible for one person to get.
She almost chickened out. Almost just made a crummy excuse about having the wrong door.
Instead, she pulled out her wallet. "Got anything to drink?"
The girl smiled around the vape in her mouth. "Hell yeah, I do," she chuckled, words slurring slightly. "Come in. Pick your poison."
-- -- --
Birdie stood outside the Starbucks, leaning against her car, staring at the entrance as she waited for Spirit. Doesn't her shift end at five today? she wondered, checking the time on her phone. It was almost 5:30, and Spirit still wasn't out yet.
She had all but begged Spirit to come out with her to get dinner. Nothing too extravagant, but some Chinese food at a local place she liked because of their egg-drop soup.
Curiously, she made her way to the entrance, wondering what was taking Spirit so long. A few customers glanced up at the sound of the door's bells as she came, some doing double-takes at her outfit that consisted of an ankle-length skirt made up of layers and layers of mis-matching fabrics and bandanas, and a white off-the-shoulder micro-top that exposed most of her abdomen, which she decorated with golden swirls of henna drawn up her side, matching the gold extensions in her waist-long braids.
She walked up to the register, standing in front of the teen-guy behind the counter, staring for a bit too long at Birdie's top.
"Is Spirit here?" she asked, snapping his attention back to her face.
He shook his head, but before he could say anything, a stern-faced woman who had just come out of the back room came over and said, "You know Spirit?"
Birdie nodded, eyes wide and head slightly tilted, voice soft and curious. "I thought her shift ended at five today. Was it earlier?"
The woman sneered. "She quit."
Birdie tensed at the venom in the woman's voice before the words even registered. "She. . . what?"
"Quit," the woman said. "After causing a scene this morning that had a customer threatening lawsuits." She scoffed. Then she looked Birdie up and down. "Whatever. You see her anytime soon, tell her I'm glad to be rid of her. She was one of the worst employees I've ever had."
Birdie felt something hot and angry rise up within her, but she quashed the feeling down and just smiled sweetly. "I hope that spiders lay eggs in your ears while you sleep, and that both sides of your pillow are always warm."
She turned on her heel and left without waiting for any kind of response.
She left and went back to her car, pulling out her phone and trying to call Spirit like she had several times already.
No answer.
She frowned, setting her GPS to Spirit's dorm.
The drive wasn't too long. Birdie hummed along to about four Queen songs before she was pulling into the dingy building's parking lot. She saw Spirit's car parked several spots away from hers.
She walked in and found the stairs, bracing herself with a deep breath before traversing them all. She was tired and her legs were burning by the time she reached the top floor. She wondered if the elevator in this building would ever get to working before they graduated.
Birdie walked over to Spirit's dorm, knocking a little beat against the wood. "Heyyy," she said softly. "You in there? I heard that you quit your job today." She paused for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. "You okay?"
No response. Though, faintly, Birdie could hear what sounded like a shower running.
She tried the doorknob. Locked. She pouted, reaching into the pockets she'd sewn into her skirt herself, and pulling out a hair pin.
When she and Spirit were kids, they'd play hide-and-seek-tag, and Spirit tended to lock herself in a room, so Birdie watched tutorials on how to literally pick locks, much to Spirit's utter shock when they'd played once many years ago.
Birdie had never lost the skill, frequently having locked herself out of rooms in her own apartment on accident.
The door clicked, and Birdie walked in, immediately noticing the open bathroom door.
She frowned, shutting the door behind herself as she walked over.
"Spirit?" she called. She peeked into the bathroom.
She gasped. The pin fell from her fingers.
The sight before her sent a torrent of memories rushing through her mind. Memories of Spirit crying while hungover and miserable. Memories of several times she'd shown up to check on her best friend, only to find her passed out with some cheap alcohol she'd bought off a rando in her shitty neighborhood.
Nothing could've prepared her to see anything like that again. But here she was, staring wide-eyed at her best friend who was sitting in the corner of her shower, fully-clothed as water drenched her hair and body, a two glass bottles by her leg, the one closest to her limp hand was half-full of some brownish liquid, and the other completely empty.
The bottles weren't exactly big, but is was a lot of straight alcohol for one person to drink nonetheless.
Birdie stared, shocked. Spirit's head hung, wet hair shielding her face though Birdie knew she was entirely unconscious.
Tears filled her eyes.
Her voice came out soft. Small. Scared.
"Oh, Spirit."
She stepped forward, moving to first turn off the shower. Spirit didn't react.
She crouched down in front of her best friend, reaching forward to cup her face and tilt her head up. Spirit groaned, eyes opening into unfocused, shiny slits.
"Why did you do this, Spirit?" Birdie whispered, voice cracking softly, fingers pushing wet hair away from Spirit's flushed face. "I know why you're upset, but this is too much. You can't do this again. Please, Spirit, I can't— Please, I can't watch my best friend do this again." She sobbed, fully crying now. "I don't want you to ruin everything you've worked so hard to make better for yourself. You can't go back now because of one little setback."
Spirit just blinked, her brain too fried with alcohol to actually comprehend anything. It was a numbness that truly got rid of all the feelings she didn't want to feel.
Numbness.
Birdie couldn't get through that numbness.
When Spirit only groaned, eyes closing again, Birdie sighed, deciding it would be better to talk later. She gently let Spirit's head sag again.
She wondered how she'd possibly be able to carry her from the shower to her bed when Spirit suddenly made a strange noise. A gurgle? A cough?
Birdie realized what was happening a second too late, and Spirit vomited all over herself, her already damp clothes now soaking up the regurgitated liquid.
Birdie gagged, slamming a hand to her mouth and turning away.
Crap, she thought. She wanted to help, but another gurgle came from Spirit and Birdie all but ran out of the room, the intense wave of sympathy nausea giving her no other choice
Outside of the bathroom, hearing Spirit groan and cough within, Birdie felt herself starting to shake with sobs. "Damn it, Spirit," she cried softly. "Not again."
"C'mere," Sophia wrapped her arms around Matt's neck, showering his face with kisses, on her very tippy toes.
Angie rolled her eyes at the PDA, pencil scratching on the paper as she sketched the couple. If nothing else, Sophia was a great model. Not that Soph was aware of it, but Angie thought it was a fair trade, considering Sophia was not even supposed to be in their college, let alone their class and she kept invading it to hang out with her boyfriend and disrupting their peace and quiet.
No one else seemed to mind and Angie had to admit she didn't mind it as much now. Since they had come back from Welton — separately, Jonah had driven Angie home and Sophia had come back a week later after recovering at her parents — they were on friendlier terms.
Matt tugged on Sophia's hips gluing their bodies together and Angie wrinkled her nose. Not a shred of respect for his peers, uh?
On the paper, Angie started to draw the complicated pattern of Soph's jeans overall's top, a bunch of skinny straps wrapping around her back like a spider web. She snorted at the thought, moved her pencil up and drew a quick squatting figure in the typical Spiderman pose, except giving it Soph's signature long hair and pouty lips-
"You made my boobs too small," Sophia crooned, snatching the sketch pad from Angie's hand and causing the other girl to shriek and jump to get it back, "super pretty though."
"It was just-" she snatched her sketchbook out of Sophia's red claws, "practice!"
"Uh-huh," Soph rolled her eyes, "we're all going to have dinner, do you want to tag along?"
Who was we?
Only then Angie looked around and realized most of her classmates were already out of the room, animatedly chatting in the hallway outside. None of them seemed to mind having Sophia as an intruder, if anything, they seemed very eager to have her. She was a bit of a celebrity, what for Angie had no idea.
"Uhh..."
"She's coming!" Sophia decided for her, skipping outside the classroom and throwing herself on Matt's back, who let out a chuckle and fixed her arms around his neck so she didn't strangle him from behind.
Defeated, Angie grabbed all of her things and followed the group outside.
MassArt was located in a pretty green side of Boston. Angie absolutely adored the building and the neighborhood, the amount of galleries, trees and parks surrounding it was a constant stream of inspiration. It also wasn't far from Boston University, the reason why Sophia was so often hanging at their building... Or at least, the reason she claimed.
Angie wasn't so sure about that, she had seen how enraptured Soph seemed while watching a lecture or two, while Matt himself seemed to be completely observed by his girlfriend. If anyone didn't know the couple, they would say she was the arts major and he was the business one.
There were many restaurants and coffee shops surrounding the area, a lot of nice sit down places, so it was much to Angie's horror that they ended up in some hole in the wall pub, badly lit and poorly cleaned. Ew ew ew.
"Why this place?" She whispered to herself, tugging on the sides of her oversized cardigan in a comforting way, as if they were wings she could wrap around herself protectively.
Sasha, a girl in her class that sported bright blue hair and beautiful tattoos all over her arms, snorted, having overheard Angie's comment, "because they don't check IDs, silly," she whispered back.
Angie had grown up in the Banks household. Alcohol wasn't a novelty for her, not in the least. Jasper had always had a "do it at home" policy — or at least he had that policy with her, who knew how he had raised Jonah — and her mother was French, meaning the drinking age was eighteen there, but sixteen inside their home.
She thought it was gross. It burned her throat, made her feel woozy and a little panicked and she couldn't fathom the fact it was more expensive than mocktails or juice, when it tasted horrible.
Their little group of nine shuffled to the back of the bar and Angie started to look around for exits. No way she was gonna stay there until they were all drunk...
"Sit down," Sophia tugged on her arm, since Angie had just been standing like a statue or a deer in the headlights. She tried hard not to make a face when her palms immediately stuck down on the greasy table. Disgusting.
Matt was at the counter with some other two guys, getting beers for the whole lot of them, and Angie started to pick the corner of her nail anxiously.
"Oh, I'm starving," Sasha said, opening the sticky menu and leaning in with her best friend, Veronica, as they looked over the options. Angie leaned in slightly, her own stomach was rumbling with hunger — and the heavy smell of bacon in the air wasn't helping — but she was very, very hesitant to order anything in this place.
"Wanna share?" Sophia poked her arm, eyebrows raised and a sly smile on her face. Angie shrugged, unsure.
"I don't know... What- What are you thinking of having?"
Now that she thought about it, Angelina wasn't sure she had ever seen Sophia eat. She had too, she was still human, right?
The thought caused her to snort as she imagined Sophia as some sort of vampire. She certainly had the looks for it, the bad attitude too. Her hands itched, she reached in her bag for her sketchbook without thinking, but only closed her fingers around its spiral spine, too embarrassed to pull it out in the middle of their dinner.
"Don't you agree?"
What?
Angie blinked, whole face turning a shade darker as she blushed, realizing she had completely tuned out Sophia's answer. The cheerleader was staring expectantly at her and when Angie took a second too long to answer, her bright blue eyes squinted, "did you hear a word I said?"
"Well, I-... Uh, no," she admitted, sheepishly, fully expecting Sophia to glare and say something mean. Instead she received an amused snort.
"I was saying," the other girl said strongly, "that we can split a burger, what do you think? Unless you're too hungry for that, then we can get a salad too."
How in the hell was a salad meant to be more filling than the burger? It was Angie's turn to snort.
"No, that's fine by me..."
"Great!" Sophia turned on her seat, only to immediately get trapped back down, as Matt slid next to her, passing three different glasses filled with disgusting yellow beer. Angie stared at it, considering if she could sneakily get up to dump it somewhere the others wouldn't see.
They for sure would make fun of her if she said she just wanted a lemonade.
"Maaatt," Sophia stretched the word, caused the guy to perk up, leaning into her space to butt his nose with hers.
"Yeah?"
"Order for us?"
He deflated, Angie ducked her head to muffle a chuckle.
Matt and Jose, another guy from her class, got back up to do the overall order for all of them and finally, returned to the table, Matt with a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm around Sophia's shoulders, squeezing her to him and causing her to thrash in his hold like a disgruntled cat.
Angie was mystified by how they seemed to all get along to easily, when she struggled with everything. Subjects covered their teachers, Ronnie and Felicity high fiving as they apparently agreed on everything, then moving on to sports — and Angielina had no idea why so many fucking Arts kids knew about Basketball. Sophia she could understand, she was a cheerleader for the University, but the rest of them? It had taken her a whole minute to realize the Celtics mentioned were a team and not a European tribe — then their dinners arrived.
A new round of beers, and an array of different foods. Six different burgers, one that was planted right in front of Angie, who poked it with her pinky, suspicious.
"It's not gonna bite you," Sophia teased her, tearing the wrapping paper around the meal and bringing it up to her face, inspecting it. She wrinkled her nose, putting it back down, "the patty is overdone as hell."
Angie shrugged, she absolutely hated rare meat. She added another tally to her "Is Sophia a Vampire?" list, "I think it's fine... Looks good."
It looked and smelled great and the small hunger she had been harboring before had morphed into ravenousness. She took a bite, let her eyes roll back as the flavor exploded in her mouth. It was great. Greasy and she didn't want to think about what the kitchen of this place looked like, but damn it was amazing.
Soph was watching her eat with an amused smile, "I thought you were a vegetarian?"
Angie frowned, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, "who'old'at?"
"Very nice," Sophia's voice was dripping with teasing and Angie gulped down the too big bite, being forced to take a sip of that horrible beer in order to speak.
"Who told you I'm a vegetarian?"
"No one," Soph shrugged, "you just seemed the type. Artsy, loves nature, tree hugger."
"Being environmentally conscious is a bad thing now?" Angie snapped, then blushed, because that was the most bitey she had ever been with anyone who wasn't Jon or Luke.
Soph's eyes sparkled, "Ooh, I knew there was a bad bitch there somewhere," she was grinning from ear to ear, "so you are not a hippie, just environment conscious... Still, shouldn't that make you a vegan?"
"No," Angie rolled her eyes, then took another bite to avoid continuing the conversation. She could go on a rant on how being vegan was a very privileged attempt at environment consciousness and that agricultural monocultures were just as harmful, if not more, as the meat industry, but every time she had tried having this conversation with her previous acquaintances — because calling them friends was a stretch — their eyes had glossed over; Sophia was for sure going to roll her eyes at her and write her off, so Angie stayed quiet.
"Okaaay..." Sophia turned away from her, fishing through her black purse, and draping herself on Matt's side, "who here knows how to play scopa?"
Angie didn't know Scopa, but she got roped into conversation as it switched to popular culture topics. She was a proud nerd and had many opinions on everything, much to her surprise finding herself giggling along with her classmates as they made fun of the old Spiderman movies and voiced how hyped they were for the new ones.
All the while, she continued to eat, poking Sophia only once to ask her if she didn't want a bite, when she reached about half of the burger. The other girl shook her head, "too greasy, all yours."
It was too greasy and Angie was thirsty, but not thirsty enough to have a beer. She wanted to get up to grab a soda, but she was the last one in the booth and it would require Sophia, Matt and Lydia all to get up so she could move. Trapped, Angie stared at her glass with disdain.
"What did it do to you?" Sophia leaned into her personal space and Angie jumped back, as much as she could. Not that she didn't appreciate touchy people, she actually loved them, but Soph was right up to her face.
"I just don't like beer..."
"Why did you order it then?" Sophia frowned, confused, "what do you want?"
"I didn't or-" It's useless, she changes directions mid phrase, "Uh...A coke?"
Sophia poked Matt's arm, "grab me a coke?"
Immediately he was on his feet, jumping over Lydia, causing Angie's mouth to drop, "is he your slave or something?"
Able to control minds, Angie added under her growing list of evidence of Soph being a vampire.
"Yes," the other girl beamed, "my lackey."
Was that a sex thing or was Sophia joking? Impossible to tell.
Unsure if she was the butt of the joke, Angie just nodded and scooted up on her seat, taking another bite.
Now the burger wasn't as good. It had grown cold with all their chatting and she felt like she was chewing out of obligation. She let it fall down back to the plate, reaching for flimsy paper napkins.
"We're thinking of going to watch the latest Obsession," Sasha said, touching Angie's arm, "you're coming, right?"
Was she already drunk? Two different hang out invitations in the same day?
"Uhm, er- When?"
"Tomorrow, after class, what do you think?" Sasha perked up, seeming relieved.
"Oh yeah, that's- Yeah!" Angie felt jittery with giddiness. A friend hang out! And all it had taken her was sitting in a greasy pub for two hours and sip horrid beer!
"What about you, Soph?" Sasha was nearly climbing over Angie in her eagerness. It was crazy how Sophia attracted people like moths to a flame, the same quality Angelina had once observed in Luke, but at least with Lucas she could understand because he was nice... Sophia was Sophia. She didn't seem to like anyone and yet they toppled over themselves for her.
"What?"
"Are you going to join us to watch Obsession?" Ronnie pulled Sasha back down on her seat, cheeks pink, noticing she was making a fool of herself. She had a bunch of glittery stars in her nails, Angie vaguely noticed, deciding to ask her later what polish it was.
"What is that?"
"Have you been living under a rock!?" Ronnie exclaimed, shushed quickly by Sasha, "the new horror movie that's breaking records all over!"
"Oh," Sophia rolled her eyes, unbothered, "I think horror movies are lame, so no, thanks."
Angie's stomach felt heavy, causing all of her already flimsy attention spam to slip as she focused on it. She was wearing a baby yellow tee paired with light washed mom jeans and right now it was squeezing her middle.
She stirred on her seat, glaring at her lap and wondering how the hell she was gonna get out of her trapped position, because she really wanted to go home now. Or well, the dorms. Her roommate, Marie, seemed to have Angelina-Banks-Blindness. For some reason she was completely deaf and blind to Angie's presence, sometimes she felt a little like Russell Crowe in a Beautiful Mind, that's how weird it was.
"Earth to Space Cadet?" Sophia snapped her fingers in front of Angie's eyes, an incredibly rude gesture that had Angie recoiling and pushing her hand away.
"What?"
"You spaced out... And went pale," Sophia was frowning at her, all the while Matt was snaking an arm around her waist, which she pushed off with an annoyed huff, "everything okay?"
Weird. Angie squinted, unsure if she should disclose the growing displeasure her body was showing with the meal or her own discomfort, she settled for saying, "I need to get some fresh air, can you move?"
"Oh, yeah," Sophia was still frowning, looking like she didn't believe a word out of Angelina's mouth. She turned around, planted her hands on Matt's shoulders, cheering in a playful tone, "move, move, you gotta M-O-V-E!" She got Matt and Lydia up, so Angie could slip out.
She all but bolted for the door, anxiety prickling her skin. Claustrophobia. It was so many people, she had never really been in the eye of the storm like this. In the classroom it was pretty easy, they were spread out, and in the dorm Marie ignored her... Even back in Welton, with Jonah and Luke, they never crowed on her like that.
Her hands were sweating and she was not sure if the nausea was due to the greasy burger or the overstimulation and God, she felt ridiculous. She had wanted friends so badly, but now she was running away from the most friendly interaction she had had in months, if not years.
Angelina moved as far away from the main entrance of the pub as she could and pressed her back to the brick wall, taking slow, shaky breaths. Her stomach gurgled, unhappy, seeming to stop digesting altogether. She really wanted to go home, and she didn't mean the stupid dorm with the roommate who hated her. Home.
Her sight went blurry, because Angie vividly remembered fighting tooth and nail against her dad to get to stay in the dorms and live the "legit" college experience and now she felt pathetic. Her heart was racing, but she did not want to cry out in the streets, so she sunk her nails on her palms, trying to recenter her body.
"Out of everyone whom I expected to run without paying, you were not on the list, baby Posh," Sophia said, appearing next to her, and Angie blinked at her, too stunned to answer the jab.
"Wha-what?"
"Nothing," Sophia pursed her lips, arms crossed to her chest, "what's your deal?"
"I don't- What are you talking about...?" Was Angie going blind or was Sophia glowing? Not in a positive way... Things were looking bright, too bright. She sucked in the air, it got stuck in her chest in a painful way and went back up, in a burp.
Oh shit.
Sophia's eyebrows jumped, "oh... You're not feeling well. Girl, why didn't you just say so?"
"I'm-" Her mouth felt cottony and slow to connect with her brain. She was gonna faint, Angie only hoped she fainted before she ended up hurling all over Sophia's shoes. Her stomach churned, unhappy and not reassuring in the least, "I think I'm gon'pass out..."
"Oh shit!" Sophia jumped forward, grabbing Angie's elbows before the other girl toppled over. She didn't quite pass out, but things went out of focus and muffled for a moment and next thing she knew, Angie was sitting on the curb and Sophia's face was right next to hers.
"Angelina," Sophia's hands were on her shoulders, nails sinking onto her, like claws, "Angelina, snap out of it!" Angie didn't think Sophia had ever called her by her name, nor used that high pitched tone of voice with her.
"Hmm," Angie's cheeks burned with embarrassment, "I'mmkay..."
"Are you?!" Sophia squealed, light eyes huge on her face. Angie nodded, then gagged and changed her head gesture to a shake, groaning.
"Queasy..."
"Are you drunk? You can't be that much of a lightweight..." Sophia pulled back, standing up, and Angie cradled her head. She did feel a little drunk, but no, it wasn't that. Just anxiety and a ridiculously oily burger swimming in her belly- She gagged again at the thought.
"What do you want me to do about it?" Matt's voice travelled, followed by an impatient huff.
"Get her up!" Sophia bossed, then suddenly someone was grabbing Angie by her armpits and bringing her up to her feet. Her stomach rolled at the movement and she groaned.
"Noo- What are you doing..."
"Okay, I got her," Sophia took one of Angie's arms, throwing it around her shoulders, "what's her dorm, do any of you know? It's in Huntington Dorms, right?"
"Yeah, uh, the beige building," Sasha's voice was frantic, "she's on the second floor I think? Room 04? Ronnie, is that right?"
"It's right," Angie leaned her head to the side, cheek resting on Sophia's head. She hadn't realized the other girl was that much shorter than her, what the hell? Angie forced her eyes open and sure enough, she was a full head taller than Soph. Weird.
"I'll go with you-"
"I got her," Sophia interrupted Matt and Angie's whole face burned as she finally got slightly more aware of what was going on, no longer feeling faint.
The whole lot of them were outside, Matt staring at Sophia with a frown and Sasha and Ronnie behind him, looking much more concerned.
"Are you sure?" Sasha stepped forward, "I can help-"
Angie's whole body burnt with humiliation. There went her chance to make friends, she had just embarrassed herself in front of them... They for sure wouldn't want to hang out again...
"I got her," Sophia repeated, sharply, and Angelina mused how she was holding her up so easily. Nausea overrode her following thoughts, making a bunch of goosebumps cover her arms. Angie felt like crying, she really didn't want to puke in front of this bunch of strangers-
Then Sophia was dragging her down the street.
"Do not," Soph told her, voice tense, as she pulled Angie around the corner, "puke on my hair."
Angie hiccupped, moved her head away from Sophia's, "not'gonna..." she spat on the curb, "I don't feel well..."
"Yeah, you're drunk," the other girl sounded amused and Angie wanted to correct her, say she wasn't drunk, but then what was she gonna say this was? A panic attack because she was having fun? One singular greasy burger? That was pathetic.
Thankfully she didn't have to say anything, because her whole body suddenly felt clammy and her stomach picked this moment to call it quits. She pushed off Sophia in order to brace against a street trashcan and the horrible smell of it was all it took.
Her stomach spasmed, again and again, struggling with the heavy meal, but eventually a wave of chunky vomit fell in the metal basket. It all smelt of beer and pickles-
Angie gagged again, harsh and loudly. Faintly she heard Sophia curse, then felt her tugging on her braids, gently pulling them back, "you're gonna get them covered in yack, babe," the other girl scoffed, holding it back as Angie burped up another wave, this one much more liquid.
She panted over the trash, arms shaking with effort, before wiping her mouth and chin, straightening up. Her sight was blurry from tears and Angie sniffled, looking around.
"Are you good?" Sophia asked, voice a little choked out and Angie nodded, trembling like a leaf. Her body temperature was all over the place, because now she was freezing.
"Good-" Soph turned around with a sharp retch, folding in the middle with a gag, then another, then a burp. Nothing came up, except for some ropey spit, and Sophia groaned, standing back up, "ugh."
"Are you sick...?" Angie was confused. Was this not her body being dumb? Were they both sick?
"Nuh-huh," Sophia wiped the corner of her eyes, where black mascara tears had rolled down, "I'm no good with vomit."
"Oh..." Angie gulped down, a new wave of embarrassment threatening to engulf her, "I'm sorry- I-"
"Shut up," Sophia waved her off, "c'mon, let's get your wasted ass to the dorms."
"M'not drunk," Angie wrapped her arms around herself, walking slowly, which forced Sophia to keep up with her pace, "tonight was just... A lot."
Sophia turned to look at her, walking backwards as she did that, eyes wide, "you're hurling because... The bar was crowded?"
"No," Angie pouted, although yeah, partially, "burger was also..." just thinking about it had her gagging again and she froze on the spot, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, trying to keep it down.
It took a handful of seconds for her to get body in check, although she still felt queasy enough that she knew she'd be puking sooner rather than later. Sophia was openly staring at her.
"What?" Angie mumbled, self consciously.
"Nothing," Soph shook her head, "c'mon, baby Posh, bed with you."
"Why are you being," Angie gulped down the horrible taste, "so-so nice to me?"
Sophia scoffed, circling her so she could plant her hands on Angie's back and she could push her down the street like an stubborn horse, "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm always nice."
lol it was just pointed out to me that I DID NOT MAKE THIS CLEAR. Finn and Liam are 14, graduating elementary school, Not high school! It's a big enough deal that their parents can't exactly deny Rowyn's presence, but the twins are certainly not independent or adults yet
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We have @bellysoupset to thank for bringing this plotline to light :) thanks for the inspiration
CW: homophobia, religion trauma (?), questionable family dynamics
-------
Rowyn glances at the time once more, peering down the track. No train. It's not late, but the anticipation has him fidgeting, double checking once more that he's on the right platform, and that the train is still on time.
When it finally crawls into the station and squeaks to a stop, he scrambles forward, getting swept through the doors. He climbs up to the quiet floor, and slumps down in a luckily-available window seat, bag dropping at his feet.
He drifts, fingers toying at his phone. He tunes out the announcements - he knows exactly where he's going, after all.
The train pulls out of the station, and he turns his gaze to the window, watching the scenery flash past.
Eventually, the familiar sights of his city fade behind him, and he feels further from his tether than ever.
— — —
3 days ago.
He stumbles back through his front door, dropping into a kitchen chair.
His mind reeling, his phone burning a hole in his pocket.
He's so tired. But more than that, he's sad.
Max is there in his periphery, and he can feel their concern, but the fear and overwhelming sadness means all he can do is blink down at the table, letting it all wash over him once again.
"Ro?" Max's voice shocks through his internal spiral, and he lifts his heavy head, finally looking at them properly.
He must look like a mess, if their reaction is anything to go by. He believes it too, the combination of overcaffeination, exhaustion, and crying leaving him beyond wrung-out, and it's no surprise that's reflected on his face.
Max takes his hand, pulling him up, and he goes easily, moving like a puppet with its strings cut. His mind strays back to the message, fingers itching to reach for his phone again, but he uses the last of his will-power to resist.
Max pushes him through his bedroom door, and he feels whatever remains of his energy disappear at the familiar sight. He drops, boneless, onto the bed, a renewed wash of tears leaking from his eyes. Max crouches next to him, but ultimately leaves, and he can't even be surprised.
He curls up, reaching for the comforting fabric of Colin's hoodie that he left on the bed yet again, pulling it over his body like a weak substitute of a blanket.
It could be minutes, or it could be hours, before Colin creeps into his line of sight.
Even with all the problems the two of them are having, with as much as Rowyn is doubting and questioning, it's amazing how much relief the sight of him can still bring.
It's as though, suddenly, he doesn't have to do this alone, and a sob wrenches out of his throat, his hands coming up to cover his face.
The bed dips as Colin sits down, a soft sigh betraying his worry, and then Rowyn is pulled against Colin's strong chest, a kiss dropped against his hair.
— — —
His stomach clenches, the memory still fresh.
Colin dropped everything to help him, without even knowing why. He's always done that though; the generosity and kindness is half the reason Rowyn fell in love with him.
How many times has he returned the favour though? Certainly not enough. How many times has Colin asked to spend time with him, and he's turned him down? How many extra shifts has Rowyn picked up without considering what that means for them?
Maybe it's his fault things are falling apart.
He feels sick.
His stomach churns under his crossed arms, and he shifts uneasily, ignoring the side eye from the woman next to him.
He's never had an anxious stomach before, but he wouldn't be surprised if that's what's plaguing him now. Between the emotions dregged up from his past, and the impending reunion, and the mess still brewing between him and Colin… let's just say he's beyond frazzled. The swirling in his stomach could very well be reflecting the chaos of his mind.
Just as he reaches this conclusion, the train screeches to a stop at the next station, and his stomach jumps up into his throat.
Now, he's a science-y man, and he knows how to draw connections between variables. And these variables show a correlation; he's motion sick.
Actually, now that he thinks about it, he does have a memory of being sick on a train as a kid. One of their few forays into a city. He was so impressed by the speed and the size of the train, until is started wreaking havoc on his stomach.
He remembers telling his mom, and her frowning at him, offering him weak platitudes, but no real solution.
He made it until they got off the train, walking across the platform on wobbly legs before vomiting all over the pavement.
Usually memories like this fill him with resentment towards his parents, and he leaves feeling relieved that he made a better life for himself.
Now though… it's not quite so satisfying, with the reminder of what he left behind fresh in his mind.
— — —
earlier that day (still 3 days ago)
His body feels like it's moving through molasses as he stumbles out of the cafe, dropping down on the bus stop bench.
After an intense morning of classes interspersed with studying, and a grueling shift at the cafe, he's more than ready for sleep. Normally, he'd force himself to slog through another reading or something before bed, but he can already tell that's not happening.
He's been pushing himself too hard lately - he's self-aware enough to recognize that - but he can't slow down. He has to study and get good grades so he can get into vet school. He has to work so he can pay for vet school. Studying and working lets him avoid home, and put off the impending conversation with Colin.
He's dreaming of his bed, ready to collapse into a deep sleep. He pulls out his phone to check the bus schedule, hoping it's running on time tonight.
Swiping to open it, he hardly registers the notifications littering his home screen. But his name catches his eye, and he frowns, thumbing over to the messages app, the red badge declaring there's one new notification.
The number isn't in his contacts.
Rowyn, the twins have requested your presence at their graduation dinner. We expect you to present yourself in an appropriate manner, without discussion of unsavoury topics. Trattoria Russo, 7:00, Saturday the 20th. The boys are doing well, and deserve your attendence.
His breath catches.
The twins… want him… at their dinner.
They're graduating. (He missed so much.)
Finn and Liam want him there.
The rest of the message sinks in. He didn't even know his mother had his phone number, let alone would reach out to him.
They want him there, but he's only allowed to show up if he hides everything important to him. If he's not gay, and Colin's not his boyfriend. If he can pretend to be the perfect model son.
He's only allowed to be their brother if he censors himself the way he used to… before his parents found out about him.
Before he realized their love was conditional. Before he learned what it meant to have a personality and your own values. Before he worked so hard to leave them behind.
But he never meant to leave Finn and Liam; that was a product of moving away and starting his own life, but he always regretted losing touch with them.
Would he even recognize them now? Would they recognize him?
Suddenly it doesn't matter. He needs to see them.
He can be a straight, religious, obediant son for one weekend with his brothers.
They asked for him.
The tears come hard and fast. They course down his face in hot streaks, as he muffles a sob behind his hand.
The bus pulls up and he brushes his tears away, swallowing past the lump in his throat, taking a deep breath, and climbing aboard.
As he sits there, reality sinks in. Yes, his brothers want him, but the message is clear - his parents are doing this simply for Finn and Liam. They have no desire to see him again.
They don't trust his "lifestyle" not to rub off on the boys. Plus, they phrased it as an expectation (even now, they presume he'll jump through hoops to please them) and a privelege that Finn and Liam "earned". He needs to show up for them now, in whatever way he's allowed.
It's… nice to know they haven't forgotten him, even though he's been gone for the last 4 years and 5 months. He doesn't even know how Mother and Father explained his absence.
Still though, part of him is terrified. As much as he loves his brothers… it's been years. They could be carbon copies of his father by now. They could reject him the same way his parents did.
And speaking of his parents… He hates what they're capable of making him feel. He has zero desire to see them again, let alone sit with them through a dinner. He's scared of who he becomes around them.
Of course, there's also the heartbreaking truth, a reminder of the childhood he never had, and the parents who were never going to love him in his entirety. It's a harsh reality, and one he's about to relive.
— — —
The message is open on his phone, staring up at him. He doesn't remember opening it, but he can't help but run his eyes over the long-memorized words. This time though, there's a flush of anger. They fucking expect him to just drop everything, with only 3 days warning, the second they deign to message him... And he's proving them right.
It's for Finn and Liam, he reminds himself, not them.
His stomach spins under his hand, and he grimaces. He leans down towards his bag, muffling a small burp that's pushed out by the pressure.
He fishes out his water bottle, taking a delicate sip, and washing away the sticky saliva that pools in his mouth. At this point, it feels a bit like delaying the inevitable, as the train slows to the next stop and he has to fight to keep his stomach in check.
He thumbs out of the message, hovering over Colin's contact, as he contemplates calling him for a minute. It would be fine - Colin would answer, and talk his ear off to distract him.
But he would also be worried. In fact, he's already worried.
It doesn't help that the thought of Colin currently pulls up flashes of something hot and ugly. Anger, or fear, maybe.
He clicks his phone off, tucking it away, staring resolutely at the horizon.
Pieces of conversations, images of the message, emotions he can't explain all swirl through him sickeningly, and he winces, pulling his lips closed and swallowing once more, fighting to keep himself together.
— — —
yesterday
"Rowyn, I really wish you'd let me come with you. I don't feel good about this…" Colin pushes, leaning against the doorway as Rowyn tucks clothes into his overnight bag.
"It doesn't matter. It's fine. I'll go back to my hometown for two days, it'll be fine." He's not sure who he's trying to reassure exactly, "You being there will not help my case."
"Well it's not like I have to come to the dinner! I just want to be there for you… I know how hard your relationship is with them, and you shouldn't deal with that alone."
"You don't get it," he groans, frustrated, "You have a picture-perfect relationship with your parents, and I just… don't. I managed for 18 years, I will be fine for one night with my brothers."
For years, he's been living with no contact, content to forget his family ever existed. But now… he's been offered a peephole, and he can't decide whether it's good or bad.
But the risk is 100% worth it, to see Finn and Liam again.
"They're not good for you!" Colin pleads, "You've spent so much energy on working through everything you grew up with!"
"Exactly!" he explodes, "I have to believe that I've grown enough to handle it! It's not like one night with them with take everything I've become away! I JUST WANT TO SEE MY BROTHERS AGAIN!"
Colin sighs, drooping, and finally comes into the room, "Alright. But at least take the train then? I don't think it's a good idea to drive."
He nods, folding his nicest pair of pants, knowing his parents will expect him to dress smartly.
"Promise you'll call if you need me?"
— — —
He feels bad breaking that promise, but he can't bear having to justify himself to Colin right now. Colin just can't understand.
Hating on, blaming, and ignoring his family has been instinct, and he's realizing that it became so ingrained in his new identity that Colin only really knows the surface level bad stuff. What happened when they found out he was gay. How he was essentially told to leave and not come back.
His chest jolts with an airy burp as he reminisces about his childhood. His stomach churns with intention now, and he leans forward, hugging his abodomen as a cramp tears through him.
He hasn't really shared the memories that still haunt him sometimes, about growing up with his two brothers, and the friends he had at school, and the community he found at church (before it became a weapon against him, of course). There were good things. Just not enough to commit to a lifetime of hiding and masking.
His sour stomach clenches. He staggers to his feet, wobbling with the train's movement. He inches past the woman sitting next to him, scanning the walls for any hint as to where the washroom is. When he doesn't see a sign, he groans, picking a direction, climbing down the stairs.
He finds one in the next car, slipping into the cramped bathroom, locking the door. He grimaces, hand cradling his stomach. The train under his feet shifts with a turn, and his stomach jumps. He leans over the toilet with a weak heave.
It's not bad enough that he expects to puke, exactly, but he's half hoping he can get it over with, instead of having to question when he'll lose control.
Unfortunately, his body loves to drag out his misery, and his waiting is rewarded only by unsatisfying burps, and a half-aborted gag.
He spits out the sticky strings of saliva, heaving again as it triggers a weak gag reflex.
A knock on the door startles him, and he jumps, stomach finally overbalancing enough that a small mouthful of puke spills from his mouth, landing in the toilet with a plop.
Taking a careful, measured deep breath, he assesses his stability, croaking "One minute," to the person waiting their turn.
The toilet is flushed, his hands are washed, and his face is splashed with water, before he feels steady enough to leave the bathroom, murmuring an apology as he passes the man outside.
His face is pale and clammy, and he's becoming more and more convinced that he will puke properly before the train ride is up.
Resigning himself to this fate, he trudges back to his seat, vaguely dizzy. Instead of sitting down, however, he grabs his bag, ignores the sympathetic smile of the woman he was previously sitting beside, and sinks into a seat much closer to the bathroom, just in case a mad dash to the toilet is necessary.
— — —
two days ago
When Rowyn wakes up, not he's not totally sure why his entire body feels like sludge, filled with foreboding. It takes a moment for the memories to catch up again.
Glancing around, he realizes he fell asleep in his clothes last night, and his phone is plugged in on Colin's side of the bed. So Colin was obviously with him when he fell asleep, but he's not here anymore.
His face feels sticky and puffy, so he was definitely crying.
After a shower and a change of clothes, he finds Colin in the living room.
He drops into the seat next to him, not sure where they stand right now, but no longer willing to put the effort in to avoid him.
The day is a series of serious talks.
First is Colin, asking "Are you sure about going back there?" He appreciates that Colin at least respects his decision.
Then is Jamie, asking him, "Why would you go back? They were awful to you…?" and he snaps, "You don't get it; you're an only child." He leaves it at that, walking away.
Charlie wants to talk about his brothers, and what he's going home to, wanting to understand. It hurts though, to talk about the life he could've had if he was straight, and thinking about his brothers is painful in a whole other way, so he walks away from that conversation too.
Max wants to talk about how he feels, but he's barely processed it himself, so he just shrugs. They hug him, and tell him they'll be here when he comes home, and that they're there if he needs to talk.
Everyone else's reactions are exhausted, when he's already worn-down. Having to absorb everyone's sympathy, worry, and understanding was too much.
He throws himself into a few hours of hard-core school work, and goes to bed early.
— — —
The train moves under him, tugging his body with it. He didn't realize at the time, but the new seat he chose is facing backwards, so even staring at the horizon is making him queasy. From the way his stomach is spinning, it almost feels as though he's on a boat - seasick and woozy.
He thought trains were supposed to be smooth? Everyone around him looks unphased. Colin, with famously sensitive carsickness, is fine on trains. So why is it making the world spin around him, and causing his chest to jump with barely-swallowed burps?
Rowyn's thoughts are too jumbled to make sense of it, lost in a swirling of sickness and anxiety.
He manages to hold off the inevitable until the train staggers to it's next stop, the scenery outside the window merging back into an urban concrete landscape. What should be a smooth stop makes his head spin with vertigo as his mouth fills with saliva.
He stands, swaying even though the train has stopped moving, and he stumbles the few steps to the bathroom. Relieved when there's no line, he throws himself into the tiny room, fingers fumbling to latch it behind him, as he's already leaning forward with a gag.
This time it's much more productive, stomach squeezing up sludge that was formerly his breakfast in wave after wave.
The floor under his feet vibrates as the train sets in motion again. His knees feel weak under him, and his shoulder hits the wall as he sways.
He leans against the wall, breathing heavily, then throwing himself forward again with another gag, chunkier vomit forcing its way up his throat. He coughs to clear his throat, staggering halfway to the floor as his knees give out, before crumpling ungracefully when he realizes there's really not enough space.
His abdomen spasms weakly, his whole body tensing with unproductive gags. Even without actively puking, the nausea is unrelenting.
Taking a deep breath, he forces himself back to a standing position, leaning against the wall as he tries to get his bearings.
The change in position has him to closing his eyes to fight the dizziness, stomach spasming once more, and he lurches with a small burp. It turns wet at the end, and, not expecting it, he has half a second to lean forward before a wave of liquidly puke splashes over the toilet, only half of it actually landing in the bowl.
Mouth tasting of bile, and face flushed with embarassment over the mess, his eyes sting with tears. He flushes the toilet, and crouches down again, grabbing a large wad of toilet paper, and mopping up what he can.
The smell is overwhelming, and when his hand accidentally touches some of his vomit, it's still warm, and he can't help the gag that tears up his throat, revulsion fueling another round of vomiting. Weaker now, he spits out the sour spit that accumulated in his mouth, tinged with the yellow-green of stomach acid.
He finishes as quickly as possible, throwing the soiled toilet papers in the trash, and then washing his hand roughly.
Still nauseous, but not wanting to stay in the stuffy puke-smelling bathroom any longer than necessary, he grabs a few paper towels just in case, and collapses back in his seat.
He leans his head against the window, the coolness soothing, and closes his eyes, letting the scenery drift pass.
— — —
many years ago
Growing up, he was immersed in religion, steeped in the specific belief system of right and wrong, and taught that every decision should be made in faith, in search of absolution.
His father is a very opinionated man, but he cloaks it in authority and belief, so a young Rowyn hung onto his every word.
Their community tried to stamp out every morsel of individuality (he remembers the time a teenager died her hair blue - it was the talk of the town for a month, and her hair quickly returned to brown), and for the longest time, he believed their justifications.
Until it came time to find a girlfriend. Because of course, heterosexuality and allosexuality were expected. So his mother set up a meeting, and he went on a "date" with her. And she was lovely, but he felt like crying the whole time.
He found comfort in the idea of religion, and the stories he grew up hearing.
However, as a child who immersed himself in the sciences, he believed in fact, and searching for the truth. It wasn't something he ever voiced, but silently he started wondering how a God could truly exist, in a modernizing world. With an understanding of outer space, it was becoming less plausible that an all-knowing being was up there pulling the strings.
When his parents found out he was gay, they offered a dozen "solutions", none of which were "be yourself". He tried to appease them, to strike a deal, or find a balance.
But being gay wasn't something that could be forgiven, according to them. They used their religion, the God he grew up with, as justification for shaming him, and the world he'd started to question morphed into something uglier, something meant to tear at his seams.
They didn't kick him out, not yet, at least.
First, they set up other dates, trying to convince him he could be happy with a girl. They started restricting his freedom - giving him a curfew, and only allowing approved outings. They supervised him at every given moment, while simultaneously ignoring him whenever possible.
The truth is, he wasn't happy. He knew he wasn't going to be happy with a woman, and he knew his parents were never going to be okay with that.
In the middle of his identity crisis, with his parents watching every move, he retreated in on himself, reading as much as he could, researching, and trying to understand what went wrong.
Their justifications didn't even make sense, he slowly realized, because if God had created him, then he's gay as a direct result, because contrary to his parents' beliefs, it is not a choice, but rather something deeply ingrained in his existence.
When he finally brings this up and addresses the elephant in the room, his parents told him that he was no longer allowed to live in their house if this is what he insists upon. They didn't want "those ideas" around their younger children.
It wasn't dramatic - they wouldn't sacrifice their image like that. It was quiet; mumbled goodbyes to his brothers, wishing he could explain, but not sure when or if he'd see them again. He told the church and his friends that it was for university - that he'd got a can't-turn-it-down opportunity.
His entire departure was a lie, and he decided then that he was going to things differently. He didn't want to be swayed by opinions and emotions. His decisions should always be rooted in information, grounded in reality.
— — —
Rowyn's eyes snap open, the shifting of the train tugging him back to reality. He blinks sleep from his eyes, realizing with a jolt that he missed the announcement: he doesn't know where they are. He scans the station outside for a name, then quickly finds that the name alone is unhelpful.
He pulls out his phone, flicking on his data so he can open the map and find his location. He breathes a sigh of relief when he processes that there's still a few stops before his. That would be just my luck - falling asleep and missing my stop, he thinks wryly, glad that's not the case.
As the train groans into life, creeping back to full speed as it pushes onward, the relief is short-lived, when his stomach flips and he's reminded of his other problem.
His fingers clutch at the thin sheets of paper towel he brought back from his last foray to the bathroom. Goose bumps prickle his skin as his stomach tosses once more.
Being in such a public place, he feels incredibly self-conscious as his stomach whines under his palm. He brings his other, trembling, hand up to his mouth to muffle a small burp, but can't bring himself to retreat to the bathroom yet again, especially considering he's 94% sure he's empty, if the shakiness is anything to go by.
In an effort to distract himself from his body, he turns his thoughts to tonight, and what it will be like to see his brothers again. It's anxiety inducing, and he's honestly a little terrified, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a bit excited.
When he last saw them, they were identical, and he was able to tell them apart only by their voices and demeanor (he took great pride in being correct). Have they changed, become more individualized? Or are they still attached at the hip, dressing almost identically?
They're proper teenagers now, he thinks, imagining the shenanigans that come with that age, and wondering if they've had their growth spurt, or if their voices have dropped yet.
Underneath it all is the question of his parents' influence. He hopes they're easier on Finn and Liam than they were on him, and he's so scared of how the environment might have corrupted the sweet boys he knew.
Soon, I'll get answers soon, he tells himself, dragging his feet up onto his seat, so he can curl up. He rests his head against the window, muffling another burp in his fist, willing his stomach to settle.
— — —
many years ago
Rowyn remembers the day they were born. His parents weren't expecting or trying for a pregnancy, but Rowyn remembers the talks about how it was meant to be, and it's a miracle. They were born on a regular Tuesday, and he got home from school to find his neighbour sitting on his front porch. She drove him to the hospital, and he sat with her and a handful of other townspeople, waiting for the news.
He understood enough of the biology to know it would be painful, and that it could be dangerous, especially when his mother was a little on the older side of childbirth. But his father was there, and it was God's plan, everyone kept reminding him.
And then his father was kneeling in front of him, smiling, and leading him back to see his mother. She looked tired, but beatiful, and she was beaming down at a little bundle.
He crept to her side and found a tiny little face blinking up at him. Father pushed him into a chair that he hadn't even noticed, and placed the second little twin in his arms, nudging his hands until he was holding him properly.
Glancing back at the other twin, still nestled in Mother's arms, he snuggled the baby closer.
"They're perfect," Mother murmurs, and Father perches next to her, stroking the baby's cheek.
Mother and Father leaned into the whole twin vibe. For the longest time, they dressed similarly (never entirely identical, so you could always tell them apart if you knew what to look for), and they went all the same places, and were hardly ever seen without the other.
When they started school, things started to change. They would argue a little more, starting to have different opinions, even if they could usually agree in the end.
Liam was always talking about his friends at school, and the games they played at recess, while Finn was always sharing about the books he was reading, or the things they did in class. They balanced each other, and Rowyn always admired how clearly they care for one another.
He often wondered what the bond must be like, to be able to feel 100% comfortable with someone, and to look out for each other no matter what.
As their big brother, he was often helping them with homework (when they would let him), or listening to their rambles about friends and school, or being pulled into their make-believe games that he barely understood.
Loving them was as easy as breathing. He promised himself the day they were born that he would do everything he could to be a good older brother.
— — —
The disombodied voice floating through the train car announces that they are arriving at Millcross station.
Rowyn twitches at the name of his hometown, unable to stop the reaction. He takes a deep breath, finding the strap of his bag, and preparing to disembark. He stays seated until the train finishes its torturously slow stop, but his stomach stays relatively calm this time.
He stumbles from the train, the bustle of people around him propelling him forward until he's off the platform and has emerged into the town.
Standing outside the station, he takes in the familiar sight of red brick buildings lining the main street, the church's steeple visible down the road. He knows that three roads over is the high school, and his house was a few blocks to the right.
If he were to continue past his house, he would reach the seemingly endless patchwork of farmer's fields, livestock, and barns.
For now, he takes one more deep breath to settle himself, and walks towards a cafe he frequented in his high school years.
Before he walks in, his fingers find the rainbow pride button pinned to the front of his jacket. He has half a mind to take it off, but he realized suddenly that he doesn't want to hide or pretend to be something he's not. So he leaves it there, pulling the door open and slipping inside.
Later tonight, he will see his Mother, his Father, and his brothers again, but for right now, he's going to eat something, rehydrate, then probably get a coffee. After, he'll check into his hotel room, maybe have a nap, and finally get ready to go.
author's note
So. I touched on religion more here than I usually do, since I grew up in a fairly non-religious household, so I don't have much personal experience with it and I'm always worried about doing it justice. Many of my favourite people are Christian, or otherwise religious, and I have an appreciation for the values, community, and connection that come from religion. However, I have also seen religion (specifically Christianity, in my experience) used as justification for hate and prejudice. My point being, I recognize that there are a wide variety of experiences attached to religion, and this is one particular experience that I hope I'm doing justice.
Keegan getting sick while and being really uncomfortable and embarrassed because Jamie's friends are all home as well
People of the phone! I have finally come back to you with a monster-fic of an offering :) I am dealing with some real-life changes right now (good things, just different), so trying to build in time to dedicate to my little world here... so I'm sorry I haven't been very present or interacting much lately - hoping to get back in the habit!
Initially supposed to be a minific I think, I got very invested in the group dynamics, and finding ways to tie it into my plot, so it kind of spiralled lol
Thank you thank you thank you for the prompt, I thoroughly appreciated the request! I'd love to know what you think!
CW: Touch aversion (from abuse as a child, but nothing explicit in this one)
-- -- --
Uncomfortable Among Chaos
"… but you have to admit, if you suspend your knowledge of the books just a bit, that they do a good job of capturing the messages and storylines!" Keegan argued.
"That's my whole point though, is that I shouldn't have to 'suspend my knowledge of the books' - if you're going to do a movie, then either follow the books, or come up with your own plotline and don't claim it's the same story!" Jamie pushed.
"Well sure, but as a reader, you recognize the real world lessons or connections that novels bring to society… so why shouldn't movies be able to use that as inspiration? Plus, lots of movies do a really good job of staying faithful across mediums, and often work with authors to keep the main themes or stories accurate."
This debate was two days ago, and has led to them sitting in Jamie's living room, The Hunger Games playing on the TV. When Keegan realized Jamie had never watched it, he wanted them to see it together, so he could show Jamie what he was talking about.
A good idea at first, it quickly fell apart, since neither of them are actually paying much attention.
While Keegan had plans to nerd out over foreshadowing and subplots, dystopian commentaries on today's society, and justifications for adaptation changes, he's hardly looked at Jamie since it started, staring blankly at the screen.
Jamie barely even knows which character is which. Since the moment Keegan arrived, he's been off, and Jamie is determined to figure out why. He's so deep in his own mind, that the film is just background noise at this point.
Colin is the only one actually watching the movie, stretched out on one side of the couch. Colin had asked if he could join them, and Jamie didn't have the heart to turn him down when he's been so upset lately, but he's kind of regretting it now, wanting to talk to his boyfriend privately.
When he opened the door to greet Keegan this evening, he received only a small "Hi", and a tight smile. He's kept to himself all evening, to a point of concern for Jamie. It's not unusual for Keegan to like a little space, especially after a day in the classroom, but he hasn't reached for Jamie once, and he hasn't softened at all.
At one point, Jamie would have wondered if he wanted to be there at all - whether he was coming out of obligation or desire - but he recognizes that it probably has nothing to do with him or their relationship, and that more likely, something happened at school to upset him.
From down the hall, Charlie's voice shouts "Rowyn! Your cat's being annoying!" Keegan jumps as he's pulled abruptly from his thoughts. Jamie frowns, glancing at Colin, pretty sure that Rowyn hasn't come home yet, but Colin just huffs, biting his thumbnail as he stays fixed on the TV.
Jamie sighs, rubbing his forehead as he decides that Keegan is his priority for the night (it was supposed to be a date night, after all), and he ignores Charlie and Colin, turning back to his boyfriend.
He shifts a little, pushing himself closer to Keegan, who's sitting at the opposite end of the couch. It's enough that Keegan's eyes snap over to him, and for the first time all night, it feels like he's got his full attention.
"Did something happen at school? Are you okay?" he asks softly, and Keegan's eyebrows furrow, before he answers, "I'm okay," and turns back to the TV.
Jamie catches him glancing over a few more times though, and he's getting more and more worried by how closed-off he seems.
After a few more minutes of the weird tension, he turns his hand palm-up, leaving it on the cushion between them, a clear invitation for Keegan. At this point in their relationship, Keegan is consistently comfortable with gentle, predictable touches, even if he doesn't always initiate it. So Jamie is a little concerned that there's been no touch tonight at all, since it's reminiscent of the early days of their relationship.
Keegan glances at his hand, and twitches, like he wants to reach out. He doesn't. His hands stay tucked against his body, and Jamie feels his heart sink a little more, wanting to know what's running through Keegan's mind and tripping him up.
Before he can bring himself to pause the movie and start the conversation, knowing that would get Colin's attention, and he'd go straight into motherhen mode, Keegan excuses himself, mumbling something about the bathroom. He slinks away, and Jamie frowns, catching the way he sticks close to the walls.
Yep, something's wrong. Keegan's moving like he's being hunted - something he only does when he's thrown too far into his past. Jamie's seen this body language after nightmares, but the idea of it happening during the day, without a discernable cause, curdles something in his stomach, and he so desperately wants to know what's hurting his boyfriend.
He is, however, unsure if he should follow him. He's clearly not ready to open up about it, and he doesn't need to actually hunt him down… he can't imagine that would be helpful. He resolves to try and have a proper conversation once he's back from the washroom, reassure him and try to help him sort through his mind.
Before he can decide what to do, Keegan shuffles back into the room, settling carefully at the end of the couch. His shoulders curl in on himself, and he pointedly doesn't look at Jamie.
For the first time, Jamie wonders if maybe he's done something to upset Keegan. It's possible, he thinks, It would certainly explain him being closed-off. But he can't think of anything out of the ordinary - nothing that he can think of that could be a problem.
He twists so he's facing Keegan, hoping for a reaction, but none comes. He sighs gently, reaching out and bridging the gap between them. He's slow, but when his hand lands softly on Keegan's arm, his entire body pulls taught, face paling dramatically. Jamie winces, pulling his hand back.
A wash of guilt coats his mind - that was the opposite of the intended effect. Jamie's a little thrown by how intense the reaction was. Of course, he's seen Keegan in all kinds of states at this point, with a range of comfort regarding physical contact, however, he has mellowed a lot towards Jamie in the past few months.
He has an apology ready on his lips, when Keegan stands abruptly, hurrying down the hall.
Great, he thinks sarcastically, Now I've really upset him. He grimaces, wondering how he can fix this.
He hears Charlie growl from her room, marching down the hallway as the bathroom door clicks shut.
She stomps into the room, Apple clutched in her arms. "I'm trying to get ready, and this cat is in my face! This is-" she pauses, glaring around the room, "And who am I even talking to? Where's Rowyn?"
When Colin doesn't answer, Jamie sighs, "He's not home yet."
"Fine," she huffs, dropping Apple on the end of the couch. She points at her, muttering, "You stay there." Apple blinks wide-eyed, the picture of innocence, and Jamie snorts - she's trouble.
Charlie turns back, apparently satisfied now that the cat is out of her room, when she glances back at Jamie, and throws out, "You know Keegan's sick, right?"
He bluescreens, mind flashing through the evening, trying to slot this new information into place, and finding that it fits with ease. He sees Colin sit up straight, out of the corner of his eye.
"Wait!" he calls, scrambling up and Charlie stops where she was already halfway down the hall, "How did you know?" he asks, genuinely confused as to how she picked up on it, "I thought something happened at school, or he was upset with me or something?" He's a little ashamed that he immediately jumped to an emotional reason, not even considering that he was sick.
"It's in the eyes," she answers cryptically, shrugging and moving back to her room. He's suddenly reminded that she's known him most of her life, and definitely longer than he has. Charlie closes the door with a snap, and Jamie's amused to see Apple creeping back down the hall, pausing outside Charlie's room. The little menace definitely behaves better when Rowyn's around, he thinks wryly.
Jamie moves past to the bathroom. He hesitates just a second longer, not wanting to intrude on Keegan's privacy, but no longer able to curb the concern he has for his boyfriend.
He knocks softly on the door, immediately murmuring, "Key, it's me, it's Jamie." There's a cut-off choking sound, and Jamie grimaces, leaning his forehead against the door, as he considers his next step.
Bursting in there is a sure path to a panic attack, especially after his reaction to touch earlier. Staying outside isn't a good enough option though, knowing Keegan is struggling on the other side. He needs him to know that he's not alone.
He compromises, telling him, "I'm coming in," and gently opening the door, slipping just inside, and sitting down against the door.
Keegan is hunched on the other side of the toilet, stifling a gag against his hand as his eyes shoot up to the door, landing on Jamie, who can see his pupils are diluted in fear of whatever memory is warping his perception this evening.
He doesn't seem to catch that it's Jamie, as he curls his shoulders in more, eyes darting around the room.
"Hey," Jamie softens, voice as calming as he can make it, "Key, honey, you're safe, okay? It's just me."
He keeps talking, remembering how his voice is helpful when Keegan has a nightmare, and hoping the same principle applies now.
Keegan's face is red with the effort of not vomiting, though Jamie can tell he lost the battle earlier, seeing a splatter of vomit on the floor by Keegan's knee, and the way his hands tremble against the toilet seat.
His eyes flick around the room, stopping just above Jamie's right shoulder, landing, he realizes, on the door knob. His heart clenches again, wincing as he realizes he blocked the only exit from the room.
"Alright, I'm just going to move over here," he narrates, shifting to the opposite wall, equally far from Keegan, but no longer covering the door.
"It's okay, no ones going to hurt you. You're okay," he reassures softly, voice landing carefully in the space between them.
Keegan's eyes finally seem to settle on Jamie, and he smiles softly, "Hey love," he murmurs, relieved when Keegan seems to recognize him,
He watches as some of the tension drains from Keegan's posture, replaced immediately by an exhausted slump to his shoulders.
Keegan's breath hitches, and for a heartbreaking moment Jamie thinks he's going to start crying, but instead his hands clutch the toilet with renewed strength and he heaves himself up just in time for a wave of puke to spill from his mouth, splashing into the toilet.
Jamie grimaces, never a fan of vomit, but the knowledge that Keegan is disoriented and needs him to be steady is enough to drive everything else from his mind.
He stays where he is, against the wall, despite every instinct telling him to get closer, that Keegan needs him. This is what he needs right now, he reminds himself, staying put.
He keeps up a low stream of encouragement, softening the tension of the room and hoping it reaches through the sickness and can comfort Keegan at least a little.
Keegan finishes throwing up, spitting harshly into the soiled toilet water, staring listlessly at the floor.
When he starts to sway where he's sitting, Jamie can't help how he lurches forward a little.
"Keegan," he starts, more firm than he's been all night, "Look at me," he instructs gently, seeing in real time when the words filter into Keegan's awareness and he's able to drag his eyes up to meet Jamie's.
"I'm going to come closer, okay?" he waits for Keegan to acknowledge him, eyes focusing more and a hesitant nod. Good, he thinks, At least he recognizes me.
He can't tell if Keegan is actually relaxing, or if he's just so worn out that the stress isn't sustainable, but either way, it's nice to be able to creep across the floor and sit beside him. He deftly avoids the puke still sitting on the floor, and reaches around Keegan to flush the toilet, letting the vomit spin away.
"I'm still here, not going anywhere," Jamie murmurs, after silence invades the room for a few seconds, "You're safe here," he reiterates.
Keegan slowly tips towards Jamie, as if he's unsure if he will catch him or not. When his head finds purchase on Jamie's shoulder, it's as if all the anxiety he's been holding vanishes, and he droops against Jamie's steady form.
Jamie wraps an arm around him gently, tucking him closer and dropping a kiss on his head, still mumbling comforting words.
After a moment of soaking in the show of trust and the ability to look after his boyfriend, Jamie pulls back just enough to glance properly at Keegan's face.
"How're you doing?"
"I feel awful," Keegan mumbles back, and Jamie hides a grateful smile in his hair - not because he's miserable, but because he's finally being honest.
Jamie hums in acknowledgement, then asks, "What's going on? Are you sick?" He carefully brings his hand up to cup the back of his neck, feeling for a fever, but finding nothing alarming.
"Not sick…" he gulps carefully before continuing, "There was some banquet thing at school, and something didn't sit well-" he leans to the side with a small half-cut-off heave, and mutters, "Felt sick pretty much right away."
"You should've said something," he reprimands, tone still light, and Keegan somehow wilts further.
"I wanted to see you," he admits quietly.
Jamie rolls his eyes affectionately, "I always want to see you," he reassures quickly, "But you don't have to hide from me, about anything, ever. I'm still going to be here. You being sick, or simply not feeling well, is not something I want for you, but it will never be a problem. I'd rather handle it with you, than have you tucked away dealing with it by yourself."
Keegan sniffs, and Jamie glances down at him quickly, surprised to see tears trickling down his face.
"Aww, don't cryyyy," he whines, leaning in to kiss his head again, feeling his arms wrap around him more tightly in response.
Keegan huffs a laugh through his tears, a soft sob shuddering through his frame. He pulls away from the embrace abruptly, leaning back over the toilet as a sob morphs into a gag. He hovers there for a minute, as if waiting for his stomach his revolt. When nothing more happens, he groans, slumping back into Jamie's arms.
Jamie swipes the tears away, sitting in silence now, with his boyfriend settled in his arms.
"I'm sorry-" Keegan starts quietly.
"You don't have to apolo-" Jamie answers, but is quickly interrupted.
"No, let me…" he sighs, considering his words carefully, "I'm sorry that my past still dictates everything… That I can't just hug you without thinking it through first, that you can't just touch me without worrying about a panic attack, that I don't know how to talk about everything. Just… thank you, for dealing with all of my shit and putting up with me even when it drags me into nightmares and whatever the fuck this was tonight."
Jamie huffs a breath, twisting so he can bump their foreheads together, looking deep into Keegan's brilliantly blue eyes.
"Oh, hon, you sweet beautiful doofus. Okay, listen carefully," he speaks slowly, deliberate in his phrasing, but still passionate, "Your childhood, and life growing up, was shitty. It's not something anyone should have to experience, let alone a fucking kid. The fact that it left some scars is honestly kind of expected, and you were - and are - so brave for handling it, even when it tries to haunt you. I know it doesn't always feel like it, when it feels like it follows you, but you are so strong, and getting to know you has been the best thing in my life," his voice takes on a sternness briefly as he adds, "That is not something to apologize for, nor to thank me for."
Before Keegan's emotions can settle and he can form a response, Jamie resolutely concludes, "When things like tonight happen, all it does is remind me how amazing you are for coming out of that situation with the passion, love, and warmth that you carry with you."
Keegan's eyes closed at some point during his speech, Jamie's words soothing the self-deprecating thoughts, and all he can think is I love you, which he must have said outloud, since Jamie answers, "I love you too," a reverent whisper against his skin.
There's another moment of silence, as Keegan soaks in the love and care pouring out of Jamie, even while they sit on the bathroom floor.
There's a knock on the door, and Keegan tenses in his arms immediately pulling away from Jamie, settling back on the wall.
Recognizing how much stress another person could add to the situation, Jamie is about to tell them to leave them alone, but Colin's head pokes in before he can figure out how to phrase it more diplomatically.
Jamie sighs in exasperation at Colin's boldness, turning to his friend, reaching for Keegan's hand to remind him that they're okay.
"You guys need anything?" Colin asks, practically vibrating with the desire to be useful. He looks right at Keegan, "You doin' okay?" he asks more hesitantly, noting Keegan's wary posture.
"Colin, we're good. I've got him," Jamie reassures, "Leave us, please?" he asks perhaps more bluntly than he usually would, but he doesn't want this situation to escalate more than it already has.
Colin's eyes dim, slumping just a little bit, but he still smiles and nods, "Hope you feel better," he tells Keegan, than catches Jamie's eye again, "Let me know if I can help." He closes the door softly behind him, and Jamie's attention returns immediately to Keegan.
His arm winds around his shoulders to tug him back in, but he freezes when Keegan groans, "No, don't-"
He pulls away, and Jamie feels a brief tug of disappointment. It's quickly explained though when Keegan coughs up another wave of chunky vomit. Jamie grimaces, turning his face away.
It takes him a minute to realize that Keegan left his hand open next to him, and Jamie is relieved to have an invitation and not have to guess what Keegan wants, quickly connecting their fingers.
"I've got you," he murmurs, as Keegan rides out the waves, heaving weakly into the toilet. His entire body is taught as he strains over the bowl, only a thin trickle of stomach acid to show for his efforts. Jamie winces in sympathy, cooing gently as Keegan decides he's done, and tension starts to seep from his form.
He stays hunched over, eyes fixed in the difference as he swallows carefully and sighs shakily.
"Let's go to my room," Jamie suggests, as he flushes the toilet, and recognizes the sluggishness now weighing Keegan down. He lifts his head, dragging his eyes up to meet Jamie's, and then his eyebrows furrow, and he looks back at his lap.
"But…" Keegan hesitates, gesturing at the toilet and the half-congealed puddle of puke sitting there.
"You still feeling sick?" Jamie asks gently, already planning to grab a bowl or bucket or something.
"Kind of…" Keegan affirms, but is eyeing the puddle of sick now, face paling as it makes his stomach squirm further.
"Oh, I've got that," Jamie says nonchalantly, following his gaze, unsurprised that Keegan is fixating on every potential problem more than his own well-being.
"No, I can-"
"Keegan, let me look after you, please," Jamie pushes. Jamie can see the battle he's fighting; His need to be independent, learned through years of abuse and relying pretty much only on himself, against his desire to hide somewhere safe, having already been pushed so far out of his comfort zone from being sick away from his home with other people around.
Finally, his eyes sparkling with tears once more, he nods, and relief drips down Jamie's spine.
"Alright, come on," he agrees, movements slow and predictable as he shifts away, tugging Keegan up after him with hands on his elbows as he leads him out of the bathroom.
He opens the bathroom door, and Charlie's voice, previously muffled by the door, now calls clearly, "Has anyone seen my-?! Never mind! I found it!" and the movie still plays in the living room. Keegan shifts out of his grip, and scampers ahead into Jamie's room.
He follows Keegan into his room, where he's already sitting on the bed, with his head in his hands.
He crouches down in front of him, peering up at his pale, washed-out face.
"Can I borrow some clothes?" Keegan asks through his fingers. Jamie chuckles, moving to his dresser and fishing out a pair of loose pymaja shorts and a sweater that was draped over the chair in the corner.
"Love that that's your first thought," he teases under his breath, passing him the clothes, "Try those?"
"Thanks," Keegan says, stifling a yawn behind his hand, as he starts to peel of his shirt. He came right from the school, still dressed in his soft grey polo shirt and pants that cannot be comfortable with a sore stomach. Still, it makes for kind of a funny image; his beanpole of a boyfriend wearing an oversized sweater and shorts that, while big on Jamie, are noticeably short on his taller form. He doesn't seem to mind though, already moving to lie down.
Jamie leans down, kissing the top of his head, "I'll be back in a minute, kay?"
Keegan nods, turning onto his side, and Jamie slips from the room.
His first stop is the bathroom, to clean up, just like he promised Keegan he would.
He pauses outside the door for just a second, fomalizing the list of things he wants to grab, then beelines for the kitchen. There, he gathers a water bottle, and glances through the fridge, before turning back towards the living room.
"Hey Colin?" he calls, watching his head snap up, like a dog on alert, "D'you have any Gatorade that we could have?"
He hops up, walking over to Jamie, "Yeah, of course! There isn't one in the fridge?"
Jamie shakes his head, "I didn't see any…?"
Colin frowns, then groans, "Crap. I completely forgot to replace it," he mutters to himself, bending down to fish some out of the cupboard. "Looks like there's only purple and lemon-lime left - does that work?"
"Sure, thanks," Jamie agrees, grabbing the bottles, hoping that Keegan will like the flavours.
Charlie walks past them calling, "Purple is not a flavour, Colin!"
Jamie starts walking back to his room, then pauses turning back, "Colin? Um, I'm sorry… for before," wincing when Colin frowns, remembering his own bluntness.
"Oh! That. Yeah, no, I get it, it's fine," he confirms with a smile, "Go look after your boy!"
Jamie nods, grateful that Colin's so understanding.
Charlie calls over from where she's putting her shoes on, "How's he doing?"
He shrugs, "Okay, I think? It looks like food poisoning, so hopefully he'll feel better soon, and then I'll take him home."
Charlie nods, but Colin hurries to add, "You know he could stay over?"
Jamie tips his head in acknowledgement, explaining, "Yeah, but he'll be more comfortable at his place, without extra people and stuff."
Colin takes the explanation with a thoughtful nod, and Charlie smiles.
Finally satisfied, he heads back to his room, stopping again when he hears the telltale trill of Charlie's low alert.
She groans, "Are you kidding me? Guess I'm correcting on the bus," she mutters, and then Colin murmurs something that he can't hear, and she adds, "Yes, I have everything I need, it's fine. I don't even feel low yet."
Even though he's still a little shaken by her emergency low a couple weeks ago, he's reassured that she feels okay and has a handle on it, finally making it back to his room.
"Hey," he murmurs, entering slowly, in case Keegan's in a weird headspace. He half-expects to find him asleep, but instead he's hunched over the side of the bed, head in his hands.
"What's going on? You okay?" he questions, crouching in front of him.
"Yeah, just… too far in my head right now. Can't sleep, and don't wanna to think," Keegan answers, voice muffled by his hands.
"Alright. And how are you feeling? Better at all?" Jamie questions, placing a hand on his knee, resulting in an unconscious flinch, but he doesn't pull away from the contact. And he lifts his head, eyes meeting Jamie's for the first time in awhile, and he's relived to find them noticeably clearer than earlier, so he leaves his hand where it is.
"A bit, yeah. Not, um, great, but…" he trails off with a shrug.
Jamie files that information away. He tugs on Keegan's hand as he settles himself against the headboard, waiting until he joins him to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He stretches back towards the table to grab the Gatorade, offering them to Keegan (he opens the lemon-lime one).
It's supposed to be comforting, the two of them cuddling, but it quickly becomes apparent that it's not helping. For one, Jamie's shorter than Keegan so his shoulder is being pulled in a weird way trying to keep his arm there. For another, Keegan is stiff against his side, fingers toying with the sweater sleeve.
Jamie finds his mind wandering, wondering if he should have called Jayden or Alix; He's feeling definitively out of his depth, and doesn't want to be adding any stress to the situation. Keegan seems uncomfortable and on-edge, and they have the history and understanding of Keegan that he just doesn't entirely have yet. The trust is there, but it's not instinctive the way it is for the three of them. But, selfishly… he doesn't want to call them. It feels like he's just earned their respect as Keegan's boyfriend, and he doesn't want to admit that he might need help.
He decides not to call for now. He's figured it out so far. And they are boyfriends: that has to count for something.
After another few awkward seconds, Jamie makes the executive decision, gently pulling back and dropping his arm.
Keegan's the one who breaks the silence though, quietly asking, "Could you find me a book? Left mine in the car, I think."
"Yeah, 'course. D'you feel like a classic, or something easier?" He knows that Keegan's favourites are often the classics, but he's also well-versed in the joy of a low-stakes YA novel. He kneels, turning around so he can scan the bookshelf above his bed.
Keegan frowns at him, "You don't like classics…?" he questions, puzzled.
"Well yeah, but I can only listen to you rave about them so many times before reading them myself," he teases, a soft smile on his face. When he glances over at Keegan, his eyes are glossy with tears, and he's looking at him in awe.
"You… you're reading them for me?"
Jamie raises an eyebrow, not sure why that's such a surprise, "I mean, yeah? I spend half my time reading anyways - I wanted to be able to understand what you're talking about, and what you're teaching. And I must admit, while a little dull, they're plenty enjoyable, and I can really see the themes you're always talking about…" he trails off, when Keegan grabs his hand, glancing back at him.
"I love you so much," Keegan says through a watery smile.
"Likewise," Jamie grins at him, "Now, classic? Or something YA?"
"I think YA tonight. Something I've read before?" Jamie nods, scanning his shelves, and pulling down a couple, then walking across the room to the other shelf and retrieving one from there, offering them to Keegan for him to peruse and choose from, "I think you've read these?"
Once he's settled with a book, Jamie grabs his own from the bedside table, and they cuddle together, much more relaxed than before. Jamie pretends not to notice when Keegan slips a hand under his sweater to rest on his belly.
After a moment of consideration, he grabs his phone, logging into Charlie's glucose moniter app, checking that she's in range, and relieved when her values are normal - proof that her correction worked properly.
He thinks back to his previous train of thought, glad that he hadn't called Jayden or Alix earlier. He's more comfortable with the knowledge that he can offer support and comfort to Keegan. They have grown since the early days of their relationship.
Unless… it could have helped Keegan, and his own desire to prove he's good for him meant he took that comfort from him.
"Hey, bookworm?" Keegan interrupts his thoughts, and he peels his eyes away from where they've been staring blankly at the page, "You haven't turned the page in over 5 minutes. What're you thinking about?"
Jamie takes a deep breath, leaning more into him, "Did you want to call Jayden, or Alix?"
Keegan pulls back, caught off guard. "Um, no? Why would I want to call them?" He looks so confused, and Jamie almost feels bad bringing it up, when he knows Keegan must be tired, and still not feeling great.
"I just thought, maybe because they know you so well… that you might want them instead of me."
He frowns, before understanding dawns across his face, "Oh Jamie. I don't think you understand how much I think about you every day. Like, I always want to be around you. Even like this. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier when I felt off - I'm working on that, but it was more about the situation than it was about you, or us."
"Oh. It's just that, sometimes, I kind of wonder where I fit?" he's quick to add, realizing how that sounds, "And it's nothing against them! I completely appreciate their role in your life! I didn't mean-"
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Keegan interrupts, "I get it." He's quiet for a minute, trying to connect his thoughts in a way he can articulate them, "I know what I have with Jay and Lexi is… different. I don't remember my life without them, and I can't imagine it without them now. But at the same time, I like that you're learning… me. It's been a long time since someone has bothered to get close to me, and I like that you're getting to know me as I am now. And I like that you don't know everything about my past, and that I get to share it on my own. These are all things I like about our relationship, that set you apart as my partner. You don't have to fit, because I'm always going to make space for you."
Jamie's quiet for a minute, letting it set in, then he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding, leaning in to Keegan, "Oh. Okay. That's… really nice to know."
"How long have you been feeling like that?" Keegan suddenly asks, clear blue eyes staring at him.
"Um, I don't know? It's something I try not to think about. I guess I just really thought through it tonight?"
"Well, you know you're my favourite boyfriend," Keegan adds with a teasing smirk.
Jamie processes, then bursts out laughing, "Hon, I'm your only boyfriend!"
"Still my favourite," he insists, devolving into laughter himself.
Tension resolved, they settle back to their respective books, Jamie actually reading this time.
After a while, there's a knock on the door, and a half-asleep Keegan stiffens against Jamie, glancing warily at the door. Through the wood of the door, Max's voice is muffled when they ask, "Are you guys okay? D'you need anything?"
Jamie calls back, "We're good, Max, thanks!" The receding footsteps are enough for Keegan to slump back, though Jamie can tell he's on edge from the tightness around his eyes.
"I think we should maybe head out," he mentions, and Keegan frowns at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, shoot. I thought I'd already told you - I thought we'd head back to yours. You'll probably be more comfortable there, yeah?" Jamie worries his lip between his teeth. While he's sure it's true, he's realizing now that he might have jumped to that conclusion a bit prematurely.
But Keegan melts, tucking his face into Jamie's neck, arms wrapping around him.
"Thank you," he sighs, relieved, "That sounds nice."
So they gather their things, and Jamie tucks an arm around him as they head to the front door. Max now sits on the living room floor petting Sage the guinea pig.
They glance up as they pass, and Jamie teases, "You managed to avoid the chaos this evening, huh?"
They laugh, tugging Sage back when she tries to scamper off, "I guess."
As they start to pull on their shoes, the front door opens and Rowyn trudges in, dropping his bag by the door. He barely glances at them as he toes off his shoes and drops into a kitchen chair. Jamie and Max share a glance, as Max scoops up Sage and comes closer.
"Ro?" they ask, and when he looks up, he looks exhausted, eyes red-rimmed. Jamie winces, glancing back at Keegan only to find him completely oblivious, eyes fixed on the floor.
Right, he reminds himself, This is not helping, we should go.
He taps Keegan's hand to get his attention, and meet Max's gaze one last time, "Guess you didn't miss all the chaos," he jokes, before telling them, "I'm gonna take Key home… Bye."
He walks out the door, Keegan trailing after him.
Once they're tucked inside his little Punchbuggy, he sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest, hoping against hope that Rowyn and Colin can sort their mess out before it implodes on the rest of them.
When they pull up outside Keegan's apartment, he doesn't move right away, glancing at Jamie instead.
"You're um… you're coming right?"
Jamie smiles, "Yeah, I thought I'd stay the night, if that's okay."
"Please," Keegan sighs, exciting he vehicle. Jamie's quick to follow him, grabbing their bags from the backseat.
Walking up the stairs and into Keegan's place, Jamie feels a profound sense of calm. Sure, the evening did not go at all as they expected, but he has a newfound security in his relationship.
He smiles at Jayden and Alix when they pass, and settles onto Keegan's bed with his book. Watching Keegan puttering about, he's relieved to see more of the tension draining away now that he's in his safe space.
All in all, he's quite happy with how he handled the evening, glad he was able to bring Keegan comfort and look after him.
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