The immense setting sun against the flat terrain. Rey’s speeder races, almost insignificant, across frame. She scratches marks into the rusty wall. Another mark; another day. And there are thousands of marks. A dried desert flower in a rusty engine piece. A rough, stuffed handmade doll, made from what looks like orange Rebellion flight suit material and twine. Rey’s lonely, ramshackle dwelling. Everything reclaimed. She cooks for one. Does everything for one.


She by Mark Dries
Via Flickr:
Cropped from 6x6 negative. Hasselblad 500 C/M with CZ Planar on Rollei RPX100, developed in Rodinal 1:50 for 17:00 minutes.

Lost Track of Time pt. 2

|| Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff (just a pinch of fluff)

Summary: You were angry, he had no more patience and when you left, he was broken. He wanted nothing more than to mend the cracks that had split his heart in two.

Word Count: 1680

Warning: curse words…that’s it

Originally posted by kookiesforjimin

Jungkook sat on the floor clutching onto the platinum watch for what seemed like eons. He sat there on the cold, hard floorboards throughout the entire night going through the argument you two had in his head. He mentally beat himself up every single time the image of your tear stained face popped into his mind. 

Night turned into day, and Jungkook still sat there on the ground. He felt like he just lost his entire world. You, his everything, left and it was all his fault. Never in the span of your two-year relationship, did an argument ever escalate to the point of you leaving. You disappearing and the absence of your belongings gave Jungkook a giant wake up call. He never realized just how easily you could fall from his grasp until you had slipped away.

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Reaching out by Mark Dries
Via Flickr:
I like to use FP4+ on a grey day, because it still manages to give me a nice contrasty tone.

anonymous asked:

Lucy, E and R's four year old daughter has been having fits and meltdowns all day and finally stops when Regina holds her. So to make her daughter happy, Regina holds her throughout the entire town meeting

Thanks for the prompt :) 

“No! I want Mommy!” Lucy screams as she bursts through the double doors, Snow hot on her heels. Snow blushes before smiling apologetically at the town meeting her granddaughter has just interrupted, “I’m sorry…I couldn’t catch her in time.” 

Emma shakes her head with a knowing smile. Their daughter is usually well behaved and funny…but on her bad days she wants one person and one person only. “Madam Mayor?” she asks teasingly. 

Regina turns and rolls her eyes at her before rising from her table and walking down the aisle to where their sulking toddler stands, “Lucy…you only have to stay with Grandma for an hour then you, me and Mama can go get lunch okay?” 

Lucy shakes her head, “No…want Mommy! I wanna be Mayor too!” 

Regina sighs seeing the redness of her daughter’s cheeks and the tell-tale marks of dried tears. This meltdown has clearly been going on for a while and so she simply holds her arms out for Lucy to walk into. Lucy sniffs before hugging her Mom tightly. 

Once she’s secure, Regina picks her up and walks back to the main table. She sits down at the table reaching for her notebook and grabbing a spare one for Lucy, “If you’re going to be Mayor you have to take notes okay?” 

Lucy nods, her tears fading away as she grabs a crayon and some paper, “What do we do now?” 

Regina smiles at the townspeople gathered and staring at them before turning back to her wife, “Sheriff Swan-Mills, I believe you were just telling us about public safety?” 

anonymous asked:

what if Yurio's s/o woke up one night and couldn't find Yurio but when she found him, he was crying bc he lost to JJ once again and feared that he would never compare or be good enough? and throughout their entire relationship, this is the first time she's ever seen Yuri cry/let his guard down completely. so she just kinda plays with his hair and says it's alright? the poor bby needs some love!! btw i am sooo in love with your blog and writing! keep up the good work!

Thank you!! I hope you enjoy~

You suddenly woke up in the middle of the night feeling like something was wrong. This was happening a lot recently but tonight was completely different. When you turned around and felt the other side of the bed it was empty, your boyfriend nowhere to be found. You stood up and called his name, turning on the lights as you walked around the apartment you both shared. When you got closer to the living room you could hear a soft whimper, sniffling and a low voice whispering in russian. You had found your target.

“Yuratchka? Why are you awake at this hour?” You couldn’t see a thing, so you felt around until you found the lamp and turned it on. It didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough for you to be able to see the huddled figure of your boyfriend. You knew that the feeling you had wasn’t you just going crazy.

“Yuri!” You quickly went over to your boyfriend, feeling worried yet surprised. You had never seen him cry, at all. He was always very secluded, he never liked showing any of his weaknesses. It broke your heart to see him so devastated, so vulnerable.

“Yuri, please look at me. Tell me what’s wrong? What happened?” Yuri wouldn’t look up, his pride taking over. He didn’t want you to see him like this, although it was too late. He thought that he looked pathetic and weak.

“Go away,” he said with a hoarse voice. You sighed, thinking on why he had to be so stubborn.

“Let me help you” After much arguing, he finally raised his head, allowing you to see his face. His eyes were swollen and red, his cheeks and his nose tainted pink. The tears that had dried marked his face, and his hair was completely messed up, like somebody had been running their hands through it constantly. It made you feel horrible to see him like this. You put your hand on his cheek, catching the tears that were falling with your thumb. Upon feeling the warmth of your hand, Yuri closed his eyes and leaned onto your hand, placing his over yours.

“Come one, let’s lied down and you can tell me what’s wrong.” And so you both went back to bed. Yuri put his head on your chest, the beat of your heart making him feel calm and in peace, clearing his mind of any thoughts if only for a second. But for him it was enough.

“I tried not to think about it, but it still makes me feel so useless. I lost to JJ again! I can’t believe this” As soon as he spoke he started feeling agitated. He hated feeling like this, he hated LOSING. Noticing the change you started running your hands through his hair to try and calm him.

“Yuratchka, it was only the Cup of China. You always win gold in the Grand Prix Final”

“I know! But what if this year everything changes?” You let out a soft laugh, grabbed your boyfriend by the face and kissed him. Yuri kissed you back allowing his body to relax and his mind to concentrate on how good your lips felt. It amazed you how, after so many years, you still felt sparks when kissing this man. And the same could be said about Yuri. He felt incredibly lucky to have someone like you in his life. When the both of you finally pulled away, you looked at the same you love and offered him a smile.

“Do you really think that’s going to happen? You are Yuri freaking Plisetsky! You broke many world records, including Viktor Nikiforov’s AND Yuuri Katsuki’s records! You have won gold in the Grand Prix since your senior debut! You have done the impossible! You are unbeatable!” Yuri chuckled, looking into your eyes with so much love and passion. He caressed your cheek and gave you a soft peck, then lied his head on your chest back again.

“You’re right.” He paused and listened to your heart.

“I love you,” he said. Your heartbeat started going faster to which Yuri smiled.

“I love you too. Now, just relax. Everything is going to be fine” Yuri looked up at you and gave you a playful glare, but his eyes could only show admiration.

“Keep playing with my hair”


Loved Ones Gris-Gris

This bag is used as a more subtle (or softer) means of communication with the departed – through dreams. Its purpose to to build the bridge between sides and allow for easier contact both in and outside of sleep/dreams. The process is as follows:


  • Mullein (dried)
  • Wisteria Blossoms (dried)
  • Mugwort (dried)
  • Lavender (dried)
  • Graveyard Dirt

Optional Ingredients:

  • Bradford Pear Blossoms (fresh)
  • Peach Skin (desiccated) *
  • Blushing Bracket (Daedaleopsis confragosa, dried; powdered/shredded)


  • Blue Fabric (6x6, 8x8 – square)
  • Cord – white or a light blue/lilac
  • Paper
  • Blue Ink (w/ quill or pen) – if blue is not available, black will work just fine


  • Begin foremost by drawing the above seal of a slip of paper. On the reverse, right the name of the one you seek to contact above the eye and your own name below it. Burn the paper and collect this ashes – this will be the foundation of your mix. If you so choose, you could add some Van Van oil to the slip of paper before burning. 
  • Add to the ashes all ingredients mark (dried) above. Give them a blend with your fingers. In the center of your cloth, make a bed of the herbs. If you elected to use the desiccated peach skin, place it first atop the herbs. If not already shaped (I used a natural clump – pictured above), roll the Graveyard Dirt as best you can into a ball shape. Don’t wet it. If it is very dry and doesn’t hold, simply sprinkle it over the herbs. Decorate the exterior with your fresh blossoms before gathering the corners and cinching the bag around the neck.
  • To use, place under your pillow for the 7 nights leading up to the full moon. On the day or night of the moon, remove it and go to the grave of he/she you wish to connect and leave the bag upon their headstone – with flowers if you can.
  • If the person you seek’s grave is unreachable, bury the bag in the graveyard on unclaimed soil along with their name or photo.

* – to make desiccated peach skin, gently peel the peaches with a sharp knife into chunks or ribbons, depending on your peeling skills/technique. Place the peelings into a jar or bag filled with 1:3 mixture of brown sugar and salt to cover, I also add in some fragrant cinnamon powder. Let these dry in a dark, warm, dry place until the skins begin to curl and they are no longer soft (or, rather: gelatinous) to the touch. To expedite drying, using a jar, follow the same process but place the jar (filled with the skins and salt/sugar/cinnamon mixture) into an oven set to ~200F and allow them to “cook” for ~4 - 6 hours, or until they are completely dry. When they are finished, they look reminiscent of mummified flesh – hence why they’re one of my favorite Craft ingredients!


St. Barbara cemetery by Mark Dries
Via Flickr:
Hilversum, Nederland.

Shades of Blue (Arthur x Reader)

Summary: Reader works in the brothel and is abused by a customer. Arthur personally takes it upon himself to deal with that patron…

Warning(s): Language. Mild violence.

Word Count: 900

A/N: I loved the new king arthur movie and I need more fics of him. not my beautiful gif. x 

Londinium was quiet at midnight; only the taverns and brothels were open at that hour and the chatter from those places dissipated in the air. A burst of laughter rushed into the alley behind the brothel as you opened the back door. You took a deep, ragged breath and leaned against the wall of the building. Stale tears coated your cheeks in a salty film, and you clamped a shaking hand over your mouth to stifle the sobs. 

Pulling your robe around yourself you shrunk into the wall. The stone was surprisingly cool, sending a shiver coursing through your body. In this moment you wished you were someone of significance or power, a person with the ability to right a wrong.

The back door opened, a triangle of light illuminated the alleyway for a brief moment before the door closed again. You turned to see Arthur walking towards you. He moved slowly so as not to startle you with the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet.

“I noticed you slipped out. I thought I’d check on you.” Arthur stepped closer to you.

You looked at him hesitantly. “I just needed some air.” The words came out airily as you struggled to find your voice.

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anonymous asked:

I have this headcanon that when Tsuki wakes up in the morning he likes to kiss Yams freckles... but i feel i need more to complete this headcanon... what do you think?;;

my addition to your headcanon is that when they kiss each other good morning they only keep it to pecks because no amount of love can make up for the fact that morning breath is a thing that exists. then they probably take turns making fun of each other’s dried drool marks and collected rheum before going about their day together

Chamber of Secrets - Part 7

Originally posted by darlingpanslove

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventually)

Summary: After the Avenger’s falling out, you were put in charge of putting Bucky together. Under King T’Challa’s orders, you were given a month’s time to create a new arm while simultaneously figure out how to get the triggering memories of his past out of his mind. As the time goes by, you found yourself confiding in him, despite his frozen state.

A/N: No Bucky in this one but shit’s about to hit the fan fam, also this one is a bit sad. I kept thinking about my brothers the entire time I’m writing this, I’m such a sap it’s gross. 

(The sentences in brackets are in Turkish)


Previous Part


The constant sound of cars honking, people shouting and the thumping sound of things being moved around served as a perfect background noise, masking the racket that was Sam Wilson.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve hit that spot.” Wanda hummed as she passed Sam, who was kneeling by the kitchen counter.

“It never hurts to be careful.” He muttered as he continued to scrub the handle of the refrigerator clean.

“Why are you doing this anyway?”

“I’m wiping off any traces of us ever being here. It’s easy being you, since you just flail your arms around and things would just come to you. My fingerprints are all over this place.” He explained with a huff of annoyance.

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LAIKA Kids Fanfiction - Idea # 3

Original Idea: Kubo doesn’t come to school one day and the Laika kids grow worried. They stop by his house after school to visit him, but he’s not there! It turns out that his abusive grandfather and his aunts, who are in a constant custody battle with Kubo’s ill mother, have taken him to their house without permission and are keeping him there. The Laika kids find his grandfather’s house and attempt a rescue mission. 

 Actual Fanfic: Very long and strays from the original idea a little…

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What NCT would Receive for Christmas
  • Taeil: Express Yourself Better books, hair treatment coupons, music artworks
  • Hansol: manga, duffel bag, headphones
  • Johnny: ugly Christmas sweater, Yoona merchandise
  • Taeyong: fruit basket, febreze set, massage coupons, snapbacks
  • Yuta: soccer shoes, hair treatment coupons, sociology books, earrings
  • Kun: classic books, sparkling wine
  • Doyoung: kitchenware, mp3 player, coffee maker
  • Ten: bluetooth speakers, chocolates, hoodies, earrings
  • Jaehyun: cookbook, work out equipment, headphones
  • Winwin: Korean learning guide, ice cream, dried seafood
  • Mark: hair treatment coupons, vitamins, hats/caps, notepad
  • Renjun: scented candles, moomin merchandise
  • Jeno: led light up shoes, manga, ugly Christmas sweater
  • Haechan: moral guide book, bean pillow, cookbook
  • Jaemin: ugly Christmas sweater, GoPro, vitamins
  • Chenle: anime DVD set, Korean learning guide, earplugs
  • Jisung: ugly Christmas sweater, dance sneakers, EXO merchandise

(Alright, disclaimer: I have never publish one of these before. So feedback would be amazing. I hope you enjoy it!)

You had been sharing a tent with Murphy since he returned after being banished. The disease the grounders gave him and the rest of the camp had faded but he was still in pretty bad shape from being tortured. Frankly, you didn’t want to be the one taking care of him but you volunteered for two reasons. The first being, you figured everyone hated him too much to actually take care of him. And it was easier than building or hunting. On top of that you were the only other one here with any medical training. You worked under clarke’s mother, Abby, back on the ark before you were arrested for breaking into medical files.
He slept half the time and the other half was either spent complaining or with surprisingly pleasant conversation. Murphy surprised you, he wasn’t the homicidal maniac everyone had expected of him. Sure, he was arrogant and stubborn but every once in a while you would see the tiniest glint of fear of compassion in him. On this particular day, he had a really rough time sleeping that night so he did so in the morning. When you left he was sleeping with yet another cold sweat break out on his forehead. The morning routine for you stayed the same, leave the tent, receive your and murphy’s rations, return to tent. But before you could return you heard the all too familiar cry of murphy having one of his night terrors again. You dropped the small ration bags you were holding and ran to the entrance of the tent before someone else could try to “take care of him”
Clarke approached you giving you that over concerned look that she always did. She was closely followed by her lap-dog Bellamy wielding his hand gun.
You move Bellamy’s hand down,“let me handle it,"before turning to the rest of the group,"nothing to see here, go back to work. Clarke I’m gonna need a bowl of cold water and a rag, shirt, anything you can find.”
Everyone dispersed as you went into the tent, murphy was still asleep shouting loudly as he tossed and turned. You put your hands in his shoulders moving the covers off his body.
“Murphy! Calm down. Wake up murphy. Wake up,"you shook him softly.
He shook in your hands like a leaf before finally opening his eyes and gripping your wrists.
"You’re safe…"you whispered to him moving some hair off his sweaty forehead,"you’re okay…”
For a brief moment Murphy was hiding behind nothing. There was no shield hiding his fear and he caught his breath. Clarke peaked his head in and set the bowl and rag next to you.
“Thank you,"you said to her,"murphy lay down you’ll feel better when you’re not as hot.”
Half of you expected him to say something along the lines of ‘oh doll, I’m never not hot’. But he just nodded, breathing heavily and laid back, stripping his shirt off. Anyone else would have been surprised to see his unwarranted strip show but you’ve had to help him do a lot worse. His body was nothing new to you, you regularly cleaned and changed his bandaging in addition to his preference of sleeping in only boxer shorts.
But this was all too different, his body glistened in sweat, shaking violently. Fresh scratches and dried blood marking his skin.
“You’re safe…john…its just (Y/N),"you told him in a soft soothing voice before starting to sop the sweat off of his head.
Finally his breathing steadied and and he was finally able to speak.
"What was it this time?"you asked him cleaning some dried blood off a large gash on his forehead.
"I don’t want to talk about it (Y/N)"he sighed.
"Murphy you know talking will help,"you encouraged.
"It’s the same one I have every time…something touches my..n-neck."he couldn’t meet your eyes as he confessed his fear.
"The hanging again?”
“Yeah..,"he looked away again turning his face to the side,"I guess my neck is a bit more sensitive than most.”
You weren’t sure what to say, he had been through far too much for words to mean anything.
“Did I ever tell you my first impression of you?”, you asked him.
“No but I’m not in the mood to have another person tell me how much they used to hate me,"he rolled his eyes.
You moved your tag to his chest to clean up the gashes in his left peck,"I never hated you. I thought you were crazy but I never hated you.”
“Don’t lie to me. That’s worse than telling you that you hate me,"he scoffed.
"I’m not lying. When I first met you, you were just one of Bellamy’s little sidekick. Followed him around like a dog,"you chuckled moving your finger over his wound carefully,"but I remember that you were always making some sort of joke or public declaration. You were such a character.”
“Is that a good thing?”, he turned back to you.
“Very good,"you smile at him.
"Why are you so nice to me? No one cares how I feel,”
“I do,” you cocked your head at him,“you need to stop assuming people hate you.”
“They haven’t given me a reason not to think otherwise,”
“I know but, I don’t hate you. Believe it or not I actually kind of like you,"your trained hands rewrapped the bandage around his waist.
He gripped your wrist,"why?”
“You’ve made some mistakes but frankly if you or anyone else here read half the files I did, they would fear and hate everyone here.” You told him.
“Is that what you got arrested for?"he asked you.
You nodded,"apparently breaking into the chancellors files is a very, very bad thing to do.”
“Sounds like your a very very bad girl,"that signature murphy smirk spread across his face.
"See, now you’re feeling better,"you joked with him enjoying watching his eyes light up.
Murphy moved his hand over the back of your neck,"I would be dead if it weren’t for you.”
“Probably,"you agreed putting the blood soaked rag into the dirtied water before he tilted your chin up.
"Thank you."he said softly before leaning in and kissing you.
You kissed back against his chapped lips moving your hands over his shoulders, before pushing him off slightly.
"I-I’m sorry…that was really forward,"he kicked his lips looking down flustered,"I understand if you don’t want to talk to me again.”
You leaned in pecking his lips,“I liked it. But, maybe you should pace yourself before trying anything again.”
He kisses you once more before you stand up to empty the water and retrieve his rations from before.
“Maybe next time, Tiger.”

When Things Fell Apart: Part Two

​- MASTERLIST - Requested - 

I wrote part one back in June, if I’m correct it may have been the first ever imagine I posted (wOw) so here is the long awaited part two. Enjoy??

Some time had passed, my phone remained something distant to me throughout most of the day now. Too many people got involved, sides were taken, argued over, and all of it remained a permanent display online. The never ending pinging and ringing of my phone was enough to drive anyone to insanity. Everyday I received apologises from strangers about how things supposedly ended, when really I was unsure myself.

Messages directly from his friends were glanced at each night, various forms of apologies or confusion. How leading up to our demise that things seemed off with him, he acted distant and less talkative; I should’ve expected it really. Part of me blames myself for not seeing it sooner and all the excitement he had for going away and returning disheartened. That all of those hugs seemed less meaningful, all the late nights together had no true feeling, the words he told me over and over meant nothing to him.How naive was I? The signs were obvious but I denied it all, and for what? Just to end up even more broken than before?

The days of blankly staring at a wall that was once covered in memories we’d shared together, now in ruins on the ground and I had no care to remove the remains as they reminded me to perceiver on. Weeks spent hidden away to the point where my friends broke into my apartment and moved in to ensure I ate and drank enough, got some form of fresh air even if it meant sitting on the balcony for five minutes. That period was over.

So here I am now. I’ve moved on, I’m independent. I feel happier, well as happy as I can be for the meantime. Yet one phone call from the unexpected has resulted in me on a flight to visit what I once considered my second home.The place where so many memories had been made and I was apart of a family, one I had never expected to be with. Fiddling with the locket I held close to my heart I couldn’t help but feel anxious to see them all again, various scenarios circled in my mind but I was assured he would be away.

“Honey I miss you, we miss you. Please just, just visit us for the day. There’s something I need to give you and I can’t ship it, I refuse to.” Her exact words, I was missed. No mention of Luke, no mention of his new girlfriend. No apologies- I was just missed.

Walking out of the metal voyage I had been confined in with only my queries to keep me company a breath of fresh air was needed. Yet instead of something new or different it was a strong gust of nostalgia instead. I pictured myself here years ago, how he tightly held my hand that I couldn’t stop shaking with nerves about meeting his family. He kept telling me how much they’d love me, just like he did.

Now I stand alone, looking out to the airport and wandering inside. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand or ensure I am cared for or even remotely loved at this point. All I care about is seeing people who still want to acknowledge me, perhaps to see them one last time before shutting the door and locking it on this part of my life, leaving him with it and throwing away the key.

After leaving the airport and silently sitting in the taxi, listening to the drivers music in peace. Yet that song comes on, I freeze up. Any ounce of me that was relaxed or at ease had now become tense. Fibres became hard and hairs stood up on end at the sound of his voice, speaking up to break that sound I boldly asked him to change it. His voice was gone, but everything remained rigid. The sound was gone from the car but it continued to echo in my mind.

Watching everything pass by the words circled in my mind, thinking about how tightly he held my hand on the ride over. How he pointed out things that reminded him of childhood or the things he would get up to when he was at home with family. Yet now I see these things passing by the ghost of who he once was looms, shutting my eyes I can’t block it out. The singing, the words, the pictures, the memories. It’s all too much, I can’t do it.

Just as I go to speak to the driver, tell him to go back, take me to the airport but he stops. Trying to control the shaky breaths I have I turn and see it all through blurred vision. The driver looks back to me and I can’t move, the gaze he holds in his eyes says it all; he understands the emotion I’m storing.

Wiping my eyes repeatedly deep breathing is ineffective. I watched the drivers mouth move, he was talking to me but I couldn’t hear the words he was saying. Zoning in and out of the past and present I wanted to leave, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t be here.

It all hurt too much.

Sometimes we have to do things that hurt us, it isn’t something we want but sometimes need.” The wise words of a friend came to mind and I kept repeating that mantra as I opened the car door, walking out after paying the driver and holding onto my small bag as if my life depended on it.

The taxi disappeared leaving me to feel insignificant, I was too small, feeble walking the path leading to the door. I felt like I did years ago, except no one was encouraging me, helping the weight on my shoulders to be lifted whereas now it only grew with each step.

Quietly knocking on the front door just as my knuckles departed from the wood it opened. The familiar home sense warmed my heart, a big smile greeting me that I didn’t realise how much I missed or needed to see. Following a large joyful smile I was engulfed in a hug, the type that just radiates absence and longing to greet you again. Pulling away a small smile formed on my face as my eyes now dried, something I didn’t want to express was defeat, not to her, not to Liz. 

She placed her hands on my shoulders, taking a good long look at me. I knew she would see the dried tear marks that streaked my foundation or the crumpled black beneath my eyes after the long flight. How I was chewing about five pieces of gum to distract myself or the small bag I brought, how I don’t plan on staying. Yet besides these features she focuses on the locket I wear, the one she gave me for my first Christmas with them. In those few days I spent over the Christmas break it allowed me to form a close bond with Liz, she treated me like a daughter, then she gave me the locket. 

This is to keep close to your heart, whilst you wear this we are family. You’ll always be apart of this family and we all love you.” I remember her words like they were yesterday whilst I sat next to Luke by the tree, curled up together in our pyjamas. 

Now it serves as a reminder to me of the family I once had, but being here now makes me feel as if things haven’t changed. If only that could’ve been true. She invited me inside no matter how much I protested, she told me not to be silly but the atmosphere felt tense as I stepped inside. Thinking how I last entered in love with her son, now heart broken by him instead.

I tried to not look around and notice all of the pictures I used to laugh at or smile at whilst Liz gave a running commentary on what was happening in each photo. Instead I just stood still whilst she disappeared up the stairs, leaving me focused on my tattered shoes. 

Hearing my name being quietly spoken I lifted my head up, my whole body froze and I struggled to even blink. My mind screamed for me to turn around, walk out of that door and never look back, but with my feet firmly planted like cement I was stuck. Looking at him felt like some twisted nightmare, Liz said he wouldn’t be here, he was away, I never wanted to see him, I never planned to see him again. 

There he stood, lose joggers around his hips with a plain white top that outlined his muscles. Half asleep, groggy Luke. The same one I spoke to all those months ago when I found out the truth. “Hi.” I bluntly spoke, breaking the silence that hung around us whilst he stayed still half way down the stairs. 

“What, what’re you doing here?” He asked completely and utterly dumbfounded whilst he rubbed his eyes whilst I rolled mine. 

Shifting the weight from one foot to the other I looked past him, trying to see if there was any sign of Liz but with little luck I was stuck with him. “Don’t get too excited, I’m not here for you.” Sarcasm dripped like venom and I could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, yet part of me felt guilty whilst the rest of me felt nothing. 

If you told me three years ago this would’ve happened I would’ve accused you of lying. Yet here now in front of Luke it couldn’t seem more awkward, as if we were friends trying to be strangers, frenemies. Neither of us wanting to engage in a conversation I was just waiting to see her prance down the stairs like she owned the place in cute underwear and wrap her arms around him. 

Then, nothing. No one followed him down the stairs, instead he walked down and stood too close, too close for me to be comfortable with. I could smell the cologne I bought him on our first anniversary, the stubble that lined his jaw and the lip ring I used to play with now vacant from his lip. I could see him analysing me, I’ve changed too. Lost weight from forgetting to eat and oversleeping at times, or how I have permanent purple marks beneath my eyes from the nights where I thought of him continuously. How the smile I always wore was hidden from his view, but I still wore the locket. 

“You, you look good.” He tried to force a smile and I couldn’t help but scoff. 

“Don’t bother Luke, we both know I look like crap.” I cut him off, “Where’s your girlfriend?” Raising an eyebrow to him I could see a shade of crimson cross his cheeks and he finally backed away, giving me some space. 

Scratching the back of his head I could see his eyes flickering towards his room upstairs. “She’s in a hotel.” He was lying through his teeth, but it was second nature to him now I could tell. 

Nodding I went along with his lies, the continuous stream that follows through his lips. Part of me expected to get an apology, for him to have some sincerity about it all but nothing, there seemed like no remorse in his tone or how he acted. Footsteps could be heard down the stairs and glancing up there was Liz hovering, watching the two of us interacting. 

Luke glanced to his mum who just wore a large smile across her face, shaking his head he walked off into the kitchen. Looking to Liz who held a small box in her hand she took the last few steps towards me and I couldn’t help but put the pieces together. “You, you’re trying to fix us aren’t you?” I shook my head in disbelief, “How could I have been so naive, I should’ve known.” A small laugh escaped me as I brought my hand to my mouth, holding back anything else I had to say. 

Liz tried to hold my shoulders but I kept walking on the spot, “It’s not like that sweetie. There is a reason I brought you here, just take this.” She tried to pass me the wooden box, in a pristine condition that shined in the light. I shook my head but it was forced into my hands. “Open it when you’re going home.” She whispered. “He still loves you dear, he is just too afraid to admit the mistake he has made.” With that she leaves me in silence, still confused a pondering look remains on my face but all Liz does is nod. 

Walking towards the door I can hear Luke singing to himself along with the radio, the last noise I hear is Liz mumbling an apology on his behalf. 

Part Three //  Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight