dumb and desperate who

Thank you @inloveatthewrongtimee
Your prompt really inspired me, so I wrote a little one shot for you :) 

I hope you’ll enjoy it. ♥

Harry Potter watched with eagle-eyes how his best friend dropped to the chair next to Theodore Nott. Harry had settled as usual on their regular seat in the potion lab and had already unpacked the things when Draco and Theo had entered the room. It was kind of like always. However, Draco didn’t settle next to him but sat down at Theo’s desk, this wasn’t as usual. Not at all.

“Trouble in paradise?” A trusted voice made Harry look up, after a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged helplessly.
“If I only knew that.”

Blaise, who usually sat next to Theo, had settled down next to him. With an encouraging smile he laid his hand on Harry’s arm.
“Dray is all drama, he’ll calm himself.” Blaise gave Harry one of those you-know-exactly-how-he-is-looks and his smile turned into a cheeky grin. “As always”, he added.

Harry nodded and felt much better. Even though Blaise and he weren’t best friends, the two Slytherins were quite close.
“Then you’ll just take me through potions”, Harry replied with a grin, making the other laugh.

Since Harry had met Draco at Madame Malkins, the blonde had been absolutely thrilled by him. On platform 9 ¾, the blonde had caught Harry pretty quickly and dragged him to his friends. That was the story how Harry had met Blaise and Pansy. Draco, Blaise and Pansy had been friends since they were little. They liked Harry really quickly, as they did with Daphne Greengrass.

Pansy and Daphne had been best friends since the time Pansy had sat down beside the blonde little girl at the Slytherin table. That’s they were. The squad. Draco and Harry, who were inseparable, and Pansy and Daphne, who were also rarely separated, and Blaise, who got along very well with everyone.

Harry also got along very well with Theo. The brunette Slytherin just didn’t like the squad life and prefered to spend his time alone or in pairs. Vince and Greg always did their own thing, just like Millicent and Tracey.

To Harry’s disgust, he had to realize that the “incident” in potions was no exception. Draco spent more and more time with the brunette Slytherin. He came late at night to the dorm, which he shared with Blaise and Harry, sat at the meal mostly opposite Theo and a few places further away at the table.

The two of them learned together, sat together in the classroom and spent their spare time together, they just did almost everything together. Except for Quidditch, but Harry was sure if Theo had been a part of the team, then they would hang around in training as well. It made Harry mad. His best friend ignored him and Harry had no idea why.

He had asked Blaise for advice and his best friend Daphne, he had even begged Pansy to tell him what she knew, but the black-haired Slytherin, also known as Dracos Best Friend, had only shaken her head.
“Harry, he didn’t say anything, I don’t know what’s going on with him”, she sighed, looking sadly at her friend. Harry was stumped.

It was already dawning when Harry went to the quidditch field. He didn’t care that he was late for training. Just how Draco acted lately, he wouldn’t even notice it. Harry had quickly peeled off his clothes and pulled over the quidditch uniform before he went to the field.

When Harry entered the training, he greeted the team briefly. They were doing different tactics, so it wasn’t even bad that Harry had come too late. As a searcher the strategy and moves hardly touched him.

The training went on as usual. With the one difference that Draco almost didn’t talk to him. Otherwise, he and Harry had often looked at the players and discussed how they could use each team member most effectively. Draco had mostly flown beside him, but since his iron silence he hovered down among the others, hardly paying attention to the black-haired boy.

After the workout, Harry had time to take a shower. As he entered the dressing room, Draco was pulling on a dark green sweater. Harry turned away and opened his own locker when suddenly a “Hey” came from his right. He glanced at his best friend. Draco leaned his shoulder against one of the lockers the right of Harry.

“Hey yourself”, he murmured, slipping into blue washed-out jeans and a black hoodie. He caught Draco’s eyes and sighed.
“So you’re talking to me again?” It slipped out by Harry. Crap. He didn’t want to bitch around.

Draco raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“It’s new for me that I didn’t talk to you.”
“Well, you didn’t have time to talk with me since you only depend on Nott.” Harry snarled. Dracos couldn’t be serious?!

“I also didn’t know you had a problem with Theo, but good to know, Harry.” Draco pushed away from the locker and headed toward the exit.
“You’d know if you had talked to your best friend in the past two weeks” Harry chided after him.
“I do not need your permission with whom I spend my time and with whom not, Potter”, Draco hissed angrily.

At the sound of his last name, Harry shrank. Everything inside him tensed and with a wistful look at Draco, he called after him a sad “Dray”, but Draco didn’t react and instead he disappeared from the changing rooms.
Great. The first time they had talked during the last two weeks and they argued immediately. Fabulous.

The next day, Harry saw his friend only in classes and at meals. Literally. Harry had tried to intercept Draco in the morning or the evening to apologize and clarify the matter, but Draco had disappeared early in the morning that Harry wasn’t even awake, and in the evening he came so late to the dungeons that Harry was already in the land of dreams. It was like the blonde Slytherin wouldn’t even sleeping with them in the dormitory.

On Friday evening, two days after the dispute in the changing rooms, it was too much for Harry. When he entered the empty dormitory after dinner, he rolled up on the bed and cried. Yes, he was crying because of Draco fucking Malfoy, his best friend, who was no longer his best friend for various reasons.

When Blaise entered the dormitory a little later and found the sobbing Harry, he didn’t hesitate for long. His steps led him back into the common room, which he had left only minutes before. He reached for Daphne’s wrist with a sharp “fellow-fellow” and drew the shocked girl into the boys tract.

He pushed her through the door into the dormitory, and when Daphne saw her best friend in this compassionate position, she cuddled into the bed and pulled the black-haired man into her arms. With a look at Blaise, who nodded and then left the room, she slammed the blanket over her body and stroked Harry soothingly through his hair.

While Daphne was cajoling the black-haired with honeyed words, Blaise was looking for the cause of the evil. He finally found Draco in the library with - oh what a miracle - Theo. Blaise rushed to the table where his two classmates studied.

“Malfoy”, he growled as he reached the table and put his hands on the plate.
“Since when are we on last-name-basis?”, Draco asked skeptically.
“Since one of our friends is crying because of you and actually I thought that you two were best friends and you should be interested", Blaise hissed at the blonde.

Contrary to expectations, Draco did not react first but Theo.
“What? Harry’s crying?”
Blaise nodded with a brief glance at the brunette.
“If you .. oh no, because you two did not notice it”, Blaise began, then turned back to Draco, “Harry is pretty shitty because you ignore him.”
The two Slytherins gave themselves a grown look duel, which Theo only doubtingly watched.

“I don’t know why I’d have to ask anyone with whom I spend my time”, Draco hissed, turning back to his book.
“Maybe it’s not about who you spend time with, but who you’re ignoring after seven years of friendship. Harry just doesn’t know why you hate him all at once. “

With a desperate look at Draco, the black-haired boy shook his head and turned away without another word. In his back, he still heard Theo talking softly to Draco, but he was too far away to understand the words.

Daphne slept next to Harry this night. When the next morning refused to go to breakfast, his girlfriend quickly stayed with him in bed. Blaise brought the two sandwiches, which only touched the blonde. When Harry was still unable to get up at midday, Daphne and Pansy tried to get their friend together.

“Lion, you have to get up,” Daphne murmured as she pulled a strand of hair from his forehead. In a flowing motion, she wiped another tear from his cheek. Not even his beloved pet name could change his mood.

Daphne called him Lion since he told her in the fourth year that the Talking Hat was going to send him to Gryffindor. But Harry had resisted it, because of Draco. The Draco, whom he had completely no matter for several weeks.

“Harry, come with us for lunch,” Pansy pleaded with the black-haired boy, and sighed deeply, “it will be all right. Believe me, I’ll kick him in the ass, but you’ll have to eat something.”

Harry just shook his head and after a few more attempts, the girls said good-bye to go to the Great Hall. In the afternoon Harry had slept much, which made the girls spend time outdoors. Towards evening, Daph sat back on Harry’s bed, his back against the wall behind her, while the feet dangled forward.

Harry had put his head sideways on her thighs, and looked at Pansy, kneeling before him on the floor, her hands clasped on the mattress and her head resting on it. She had been talking about her holiday from the summer for almost an hour, and avoided talking as much as possible about subjects that Draco contained, which really wasn’t that easy.

After all, Harry and Draco had almost never been separate since their first day at Hogwarts. Pansy looked desperately at Daphne, who recognized the dumb plea. Never leave me. In reply, she gave the black-haired girl only a loving smile.

The door swung open behind Pansy, which made the two girls look up, thinking that Blaise was coming in. But to all wonder it wasn’t Blaise but Draco, who leaned with the shoulder in the door frame. When Harry saw him, he closed his eyes desperately for a moment, before he straightened.

“Girls, just leave us alone, please”, Draco said. Although his voice was completely quiet, the air was electrified as the two girls stood up. Pansy was the first at the door. Furiously, she pressed her index finger against his chest.

“I hope for you, you had damn good reasons and you’ll clarify the matter with Harry, otherwise I’ll kick your ass, Malfoy”, Pansy hissed at him before she pushed out into the corridor. And Draco was perfectly clear she was serious. Like very serious. one head smaller or not. Daphne kissed Harry briefly on the cheek, before she also drove past Draco. He entered the room completely and leaned against one of his bedposts. Harry, who had meanwhile sat up, slipped to the wall.

For a little while nobody said anything. They only looked into each other’s eyes and a tear blurred from Harry’s cheek.
“Why do you hate me?” The black-haired boy whispered after some time, because he couldn’t stand the silence any more.

Draco said nothing for a moment before a sigh escaped.
“I don’t hate you”, he replied, suddenly sounding tired. Draco sat down on his bed, slid back against the wall and closed his eyes briefly. Again, both were silent for some time.

“Dray, talk to me, please”, Harry pleaded, just couldn’t stand it anymore.
Draco sighed before he began to talk.
“Theo and I understand each other very well, because we like the same thing.”
Harry frowned, but Draco just continued on.
“He found out I was … that I’m gay and well, he is too, and I never wanted our friendship to suffer, Harry, but it was so easy to be with Theo all this time.”

Harry swallowed and let the words sink. For some reason, his stomach had contracted painfully at the thought of Draco and Theo.
“So you’re happy with him … and you couldn’t tell me. Do you really think I would be … yes, whatever … just because you’ve got a boyfriend now?”
Draco opened his eyes widely and shook his head vehemently.

“No, stop, Theo and I aren’t together. I mean, well, we kissed one time, but I’ve got feelings for someone and Theo just became a good listener and friend to me. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I was just afraid you could find me repulsive”, Draco finally became quieter. That was too much for Harry.

“Holy shit, you’re crazy! We’ve survived everything together, we’ve survived Voldemort, we’ve been going through thick and thin since we’re 11 years old. Dray, we … I … I thought you’d know me better.“, he shouted at the other, “and then I’m going to freak out because you’re gay?! Do you have that less faith in me?”

The blonde swallowed visibly and stood up, slowly walking toward Harry.
“I wasn’t afraid you’d abandon me for being gay, I was afraid you’d abandon me for this.” Draco had just wispered the last words before he put his lips on Harry’s.
Harry’s body felt like it was going to explode, but before he could return the kiss, Draco had already disengaged from him and stepped back. Absent-minded Harry touched his lips with his fingertips.

“I know .. I’m not …” gay, he wanted to say, but for some reason he didn’t say a word. Absolutely overwhelmed, he looked into Draco’s eyes.
“Gay”, Draco finished Harry’s sentence instead, closing his lids. “I know.”
“Yes, no … but I … I don’t know”, Harry murmured.

He had never been interested in boys, but he wasn’t really interested in girls either. Suddelny he knew what to do. Harry put a hand on Draco’s neck and pulled him closer.
“I have no idea, but if you want, we’ll find out together”, he whispered against Draco’s lips before pulling him closer and pressing his own lips on Draco’s.

Send me a prompt with a number and a HP pairing and I’ll try to write you a drabble. Maybe not just Drarry :p


BK: During Aang and Zuko’s heyday, the ability to bend lightning was an incredibly rare skill usually reserved for the inner circles of Fire Nation royalty and high-ranking military officers. Now, in the thick of the Avatar world’s own Industrial Age, we see that this skill is, while not widespread, common enough that it is practiced by blue-collar workers changing up massive batteries in the city’s power plants. This kind of work is incredibly taxing on a person’s chi reserves; that’s why the plant bosses tend to get desperate, strapping young men like Mako to sign up for the grueling task. Mako designs by Jin-Sun Kim and Ki-Hyun Ryu. Color by Sylvia Filcak-Blackwolf. Background design by Eun-Sang Yang. Painting by Emily Tetri. 


Something I plan to post on Facebook, soon. :/

Here’s the thing, I’m not a bigot. I’m a radical feminist. Radical, gender-critical feminists are not bigots. We are fighting female erasure and we are absolutely HATED for it. People wish murder and torturous death upon us for it; for wanting to free EVERYBODY from the oppressive constraints of gender normativity. To be hated as we are, to be silenced the way we have been, is so telling of how pervasive hatred and disgust of “female” actually is. I am not a bigot. I am pro-female, pro-woman and pro-girl, because I am a feminist! I call myself a feminist as direct defiance of the patriarchy! As a result of being pro-women and girls and anti-patriarchy, I am against members of the privileged social class (namely men, the identified oppressors in the patriarchy) appropriating identities of the patriarchy’s oppressed class. For believing in this, I’ve earned the “bigot” label and in feminism, this gets me the “TERF” (trans-exclusionary radical feminist) label. As a woman, that hurts but as a feminist, it pisses me the fuck off! “TERFs” are vilified, banned, disenfranchised, and immediately silenced for their transgender critique and it’s scaring the crap out of me. It really should scare the crap out of any feminist, whether she be liberal, radical, or anywhere in between on the topic of trans ideology.

Examination: If a white person were to appropriate the identity of a native American, wearing a headdress as an example, and claiming they were entitled because they just feel native American, and even if they did this under the well-intentioned belief they were advancing the empowerment and equal treatment of native Americans, our progressive society would shut that person down, put them in their place, and make them recognize their political incorrectness, right? If a white person tries to change their identity to appropriate the identity of a black person, (Rachel Dolezel, anyone?) they too would be shut down by our progressive society, rightfully so, even if said person contributed efforts to the advancement of people of color. If an able-bodied person were to want to live as a disabled person, (this actually happens) that person would be called out for their disrespectful appropriation, as well. We can all agree, people who do these things are dishonorable douchebags. Are we being bigoted when we shut people down for appropriating an identity of an oppressed, marginalized class? No, we are not. Those are the rules of the progressive left. So then, why do those rules suddenly change (as in, get thrown out the window completely and not even thought about) when we talk about men appropriating the identity of women? Why? Because society, every single wrung of it, even the seemingly most progressive sects of it, doesn’t give a fuck about women and the very real, documented sex-based oppression of us female people throughout history and still going on today. You really need to brush up on your feminism if you don’t believe that oppression of women is based on sex. Our gender is not oppressed. Gender is the oppression and it attaches itself to our sex. Swapping out your gender for the opposite one is not a third gender, nor is it anything like an intersex individual, nor is it defying the binary, nor will it eradicate gender oppression. It will, in fact, only reinforce the ideologies that fuel gender’s oppressive modes.

I never understood trans politics. It always seemed contradictory in practice to its political statements. I’ve always applauded gender non-conformity, so I used to think I was on the same side of the gender debate as trans gender folks. But, anytime I thought too long and hard about transgenderism, I always circled around to seeing how hypocritical it actually was. I was ashamed of those feelings, though. I felt like I must be the dumb one who couldn’t comprehend it. I desperately tried to rationalize it because I didn’t want to be a bigot. I believed the men who said they could just feel it that they were supposed to be women and chocked my misunderstanding of that up to just me being dumb. I accepted and feigned celebration of the mystique of this unknown condition of praised, beloved, self-diagnosed “gender dysphoria" and supposedly natural detachment of the psyche from physical reality. I saw the vitriol and anger spewed at these “TERF” people and believed that they must be some kind of pack of vile, nihilistic, swamp witches. Until I grew up and started listening to these witches. As soon as I learned what Radical Feminists really are, I realized I was one. Not just for my views on trans ideology, but also my views on male pattern violence, sex-based oppression, female liberation and empowerment, and so much more.

But, the trans ideology critique is what sets Radical Feminism apart from all the rest. Letting liberal feminists know you’re a radical feminist, is to accept unabashed hatred from people who are supposed to be on your side. But, I don’t care anymore. I’m the unabashed one now! I’m done coddling yet another strain of fragile male ego and that is what the overwhelming majority of trans ideology is… fragile, narcissistic male egos. I’ve seen it for myself. The more I dig into this, the more disgusting shit I see coming from trans women. I’m done being a phony about this topic. I’m done pretending to live in the same fantasy land where these men live that they can imagine in their minds that they are members of the oppressed class and wave their magic wands to con the progressive left into believing their delusions. I’m done being nice about this. I’m done ignoring the actual incidences of violent behavior by trans women towards women, for being women, including murder. I’m done accepting blame for the murder of transwomen by homophobic men. I’m done pretending transpolitics aren’t harmful. I don’t care if people think I’m a bigot, anymore. I know I’m not. I’m unabashedly PROUD to be a natural woman! I should NEVER be silenced for that! I should NEVER be silenced when fighting for women’s rights as I have been by trans women. I should NEVER be told my body is offensive because of trans women. I’m done contributing to female erasure to accommodate the delusions of privileged men! Haven’t women had enough of that throughout history?!

There’s a fucking war on women out there! Gender is a weapon in the patriarchy and transgenderism is just another gun in its arsenal. There is no such thing as “trans misogyny” okay? There is only misogyny and that’s what trans women are practicing when they insist that they’re women.

Trans ideology is disgustingly misogynistic, homophobic, and lesbophobic (google “forced SRS on Iranian gay men to see the direct corellation of transgenderism to homophobia, then google “the cotton ceiling” to see what’s being done to our lesbian sisters and prepare to have your stomachs turned!) I’m done playing along and am exposing my true self on this topic. I am loudly coming out of the woodwork on this issue and explaining myself unabashedly in order to 1. separate myself from homophobic Christian right wingers because I am not aligned with them on this issue, at all! And 2. Educate others on why trans ideology is actually harmful to the progressive left’s efforts to empower and uplift women and the LGB community.

guess which bitch worked for 11h straight with only 2 10 minute pauses and 3 arguments with customers that triggered my depressive low :)))))

Guess who :))) guess who’s that dumb and desperate :)))

I'll Be Seeing You | closed


Fitz sipped his pint as the band played some Glen Miller tune and tried not to stare at the girl across the floor of the dance hall again. There was just something about her, almost like he knew her from somewhere. 

His friend Doug was dancing with a raven-haired girl, but the other bloke he’d come with, Donnie, wasn’t having any luck so far. They were on their last leave before shipping out. And who knew what would happen then?

If Fitz were going to ask anyone, he’d ask her, the brunette in the deep red dress across the dance floor. He couldn’t understand why no one else was asking. She looked…kind. She was also gorgeous as hell.

He nursed his pint and hoped that he might get up the courage before it was too late.

Doug came back with the girl he’d been dancing with and introduced her around as Mary. Fitz gave her no more than a brief nod before his eyes sought out the brunette again. He was afraid of losing his chance.

“Go on, then, ask her!” Doug said, slapping Fitz on the back too hard. “B’fore some other bloke gets his ’ands on ‘er.”

“What? Who?” Fitz said, desperately trying to play dumb.

“She’s a right looker, that one,” Donnie added, having none of his act and giving Fitz’s chair a kick under the table. “Go get her!”

“She seems alright,” Mary added appraisingly.

“C’mon, don’t be so gutless. Worst she can say is no,” Doug said. 

“Just shoosh, all of you!” he said, crossing his arms over his chest sullenly. “I only came out for a drink.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t ask her,” Doug said after a beat, then leaned down and stage-whispered, “’cause I think she’s goin’ to ask you, mate.” He laughed and moved aside, sliding an arm around Mary.

Fitz turned back and there she was, even more stunning up close than she had been from a distance. She had freckles on her ivory skin, roses in her cheeks and her eyes were the color of good whisky. He even noticed that her lipstick matched her dress. 

That was when he realized he was staring gape-mouthed at her. “Er…hello,” he managed to choke out. 

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, MMFD Fandom! We’d said we might do something for V-Day, since it is so close to the premiere, so here’s a teeny Valentine’s fic as my offering!

* * *

Fucking Valentine’s Day. Rae had hated it ever since she started school and she always got the least number of cards in her “mailbox” which was an old tissue box covered in glitter and stickers. It was a dumb tradition, carried on by primary school teachers who were desperate for something to break up the monotony of lessons between New Year and Easter. But Chloe always insisted on counting hers up, so everyone else did, too, and after everyone had announced their haul, they all turned to Rae to hear how few she had received. Those first few years, Chloe had given Rae a few of her cards to make the numbers up, but it was cold comfort to Rae. And when those cards started to possibly mean something, Chloe kept them all to herself.

It got harder every year, seeing everyone else get cards and flowers and teddy bears and heart shaped boxes from Thornton’s. One year she successfully faked sick on the 14th, and while it was a relief not having to witness all the tokens of affection being delivered, the squeals of delight and conspiratorial whispers, she forgot that there were several days of post-mortem and everyone turned into a pack of amateur detectives trying to figure out who sent the anonymous love notes. There was no escape from adolescent love expressed through construction paper and conversation hearts.

Last Valentine’s was dire. The worst yet. She was barely hanging on by a thread, only a few weeks away from a total breakdown. The twat brigade had serenaded her with some pop song, laughing like drains as she literally ran away from them and into the arms of the cupboard. 

This year, everything was different. She was better, stronger, and she had Finn. Still, she wasn’t a fan of Valentine’s Day. No matter how happy she’d grown to be with Finn, she didn’t think she’d ever forget the feeling of being left out of life. She saw people everywhere who had that look about them. She recognized herself in the sadness in their eyes, the slump of their shoulders, the nervous fidgeting of their fingers. And why should she celebrate a day that made so many people feel like shit?

Finn had other ideas about Valentine’s Day. His mum had always gotten him and his brother a little gift and some chocolates, set next to their cereal bowls as they came down in the morning. And his mum always came home to a bouquet of roses and then his dad would take her out for a meal. His parents didn’t need an excuse to show their affection for each other, but they seized every opportunity. For him, Valentine’s was a day sanctioned to show the people you loved that you loved them; it never occurred to him that others might not see it that way.

So when he showed up at Rae’s door with a bunch of red and white roses, he was genuinely confused when she scowled at them before he could even say Happy Valentine’s Day.

“What are those?” she asked, her voice testy.

“Just—what? They’re flowers. For you.” He paused, not sure what she was mad about, or what she was getting at. “For Valentine’s?” Her mouth was still set in a line; she wasn’t smiling and he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. This felt worse than the time he’d said they’d go to the “sexy party” Anna was having without consulting her. 

“Well, thanks, but I don’t do Valentine’s.”

“Like, at all? I mean, we’re … together. Like, is it bad? To want to get you something nice?”

She sighed and he could see her hard candy shell start to melt just a little. “No, I guess not. It’s just … what it represents. More people feel bad on this day than get flowers, and they feel bad because other people get flowers. And it’s FEBRUARY, where are all these flowers coming from, anyway? There are probably exploited workers involved somewhere, and …” she trailed off, thinking she was probably getting carried away.

Finn let his arm go limp, the flowers swinging at the end of his hand. He might as well chuck these in the bin, if she hated Valentine’s so much. He wasn’t angry, but she definitely had the wind knocked out of his sails. 

“Wait!” Rae said suddenly. 

Finn’s head shot up. “What?” 

“I have an idea,” she smiled slyly and reached out to take the plastic wrapped flowers from his grasp. He smiled back and started to head inside, but she placed her hand on his chest and shook her head. “Nope, turn around.” He was confused, but shrugged and stepped back, allowing Rae to lead the way. She walked purposefully across the street, Finn trailed behind, and then she knocked on the door directly opposite.

After a minute, the door opened, and an elderly lady in a blue floral dress opened the door. “Rachel, hello!” she smiled and looked at Finn quizzically. “Is this your young man? What are you two doing here, and on Valentine’s Day?” 

“Hi, Mrs. D. Yes, this is Finn, and I—WE—wanted to bring you these.” Rae held up the bouquet, glanced over at Finn, and Mrs. Dewhurst’s wrinkled face crumpled in on itself, overcome with emotion. She sniffed and pulled a tissue out of her sleeve to dab at her eyes before blowing her nose like a trumpet. “You really shouldn’t have, Rachel. Are you sure? Are you sure these aren’t for you?” 

Finn stepped forward and said, “Nah, I tried to buy her some, but she said she didn’t like flowers for herself, but that you really liked them. So we picked these out … for you.”

He looked over at Rae, their eyes met, and the smile he had hoped would appear when he handed her the flowers was finally on her face.