Boys who like dyeing their hair bright colors are beautiful, boys with natural hair colors are amazing, boys with long hair are stunning, boys with buzz cuts are cute as hell, bald boys are enchanting,boys with curly hair are drop dead gorgeous, all boys are amazing no matter what kind of hair they have!
So this popped into my head while in the shower this morning (what?), and don’t you know it wouldn’t leave me alone? It demanded I write it down on paper, er… tumblr and it ended up becoming a ficlet that consumed pretty much my entire day (good thing I’m a nurse and was off). There is a short second part that will follow, but I wanted to get this posted to share.
A bit nervous about posting this, but I hope you enjoy it. :)
Warning: contains speculation/spoilers for Episode 3 of Series 3
Returning Home, Part 1
Timothy Turner frantically rubbed at his notebook, with a force so strong, the eraser wore a hole into the thin paper. With a sigh of frustration, he threw the pencil down and slumped in his seat, a look of defeat on his face as he glared at his arithmetic exercises. His eyes glanced upward across the table to the vacant chair opposite him, the one usually occupied by Shelagh, who would keep him company while he completed his homework.
Ever since she and his father had wed, upon his arrival home from school each day, Timothy was met with a hug and ruffle of his hair from Shelagh before she would retreat to the kitchen and return with a tray of tea and biscuits for the center of the table. It was their little ritual, a quiet time for just the two of them - to share tea and companionship. Timothy would start on his easiest assignments, so he could tell her about his day before tackling the more challenging subjects, and Shelagh would listen in earnest to his chatter before beginning preparations for dinner.
Timothy’s mouth screwed into a frown as he thought of Shelagh, who was currently resting upstairs. It seemed all she wanted to do now was stay in bed, ever since his father brought her home from the hospital two days ago. His father had provided a vague explanation, something about a baby and an operation (It’s not growing in the right place, he’d said), but had silenced any further questions, instructing Timothy to not bother Shelagh, as it would upset her and she needed rest to heal. Timothy kept silent, but noticed Shelagh growing ever more sullen and withdrawn. Her eyes that usually shined bright with cheer and joy were now streaked red and held blank stares. Her giggles at his silly antics and playful teasing toward his father had vanished, replaced by bouts of crying and silence, as if she was oblivious to their presence at all.
When Shelagh had first married his dad, Timothy felt a lightness in his home for the first time since his mother died; the house was bursting with the laughter and delight, comfort and togetherness, contentment and love that he had ached for the past two years. It was as if Shelagh had packed happiness along with the clothes in her suitcase when she moved into the Turner home. Now, Timothy feared that the joy which had just begun to permeate their home once again had been left back at the hospital, a treasured possession that was never packed for the trip home, forgotten and lost forever at The London.
Timothy let out a sigh and kicked his feet back and forth in the space beneath the table. Suddenly overcome with sense of determination, Timothy planted his feet on the ground, pushed his chair back, and walked to the kitchen to set about filling the kettle.
Shelagh Turner curled onto her left side, pulling her knees closer to her chest and squeezing her eyes tight as she felt a sudden cramp in her lower abdomen. The searing pain she initially felt following the operation had now waned to a dull ache in her belly, with only an occasional sharp twinge here and there. Releasing a shuddered breath, she stared at the blank wall next to her bed and felt wetness prick her eyes. She clenched her jaw tightly as she made a futile attempt to hold back her tears. She could not recall a time in her adult life when she had cried so violently, so often, for such long periods at a time. Even her darkest days of doubt in the Sanatorium paled in comparison to the torturous grief and hopelessness she felt now.
The one consolation, however, was that, while she had felt utterly alone in her suffering those long months at the Sanatorium, she now had her husband by her side to share her current affliction and anguish — her husband who had cried with her, who had kissed her eyelids, catching the tears as they slipped down her cheeks, and who had held her for countless hours in his loving arms after they had learned the news that pierced their hearts. Since returning home from the London two days prior, Patrick had not stopped doting on her, tirelessly fussing over every tiny thing and asking again and again if she needed anything, if she was in pain, if she was alright.
Truthfully, however, after the deluge of tests, procedures, statistics, and discussions with the physician and her husband, Shelagh had begun to feel suffocated. She had actually been grateful earlier that morning, when Patrick asked if she would be alright on her own if he returned to a full day of work. She felt smothered by information, by his attentions, and by her thoughts, and hoped, that if she were left alone, she could find the air to breathe. Her mind was racing with doubts and questions - why had her dreams been so cruelly snatched away from her, was God punishing her choosing a man over Him, how could she have been so foolish, sewing and knitting for a baby before she knew if it even existed? Shelagh knew she had been quietly withdrawing from her family, but the many conversations she and Patrick shared over the last few days had exhausted her, and the only company she desired at the moment was her own solitude. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, she closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind.
Timothy arranged the teacups and a small plate of biscuits neatly on the tray and carried it toward the stairs. He glanced upward at the daunting staircase then down at his leg braces with a wry look. He carefully transferred the tray to one arm, and, grasping the railing tightly with his free hand, slowly made his way up the stairs, a mantra of please don’t drop, please don’t drop repeating in his head. Upon successfully reaching the landing, he smiled proudly and made his way down the hall. The door to the bedroom his father and Shelagh shared was left partly opened, and he stopped at the doorway to peer inside. His eyes landed on Shelagh, who was lying in bed, facing the wall with the bedsheets tucked up to her chin and her body curled up tightly - like a little kid, he thought.
He thought he heard a quiet sniffle and twisted his mouth up in hesitation as he recalled his father’s instructions to not disturb Shelagh. When he heard her take a trembling breath, he took a deep breath of his own and quietly padded into the bedroom.
“I brought you some tea.”
Shelagh lifted her head from the pillow at the sound and craned her neck toward the door, where Timothy stood nervously, a tea tray in his hands and uncertain look on his face. Pressing her hands firmly against the mattress, she gingerly moved herself into a slight sitting position and carefully leaned back into the pillows against the headboard. Tucking the sheets close around her middle and swallowing hard against the knot in her throat, she gave the boy a small, sad smile, emptiness still in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered shakily.
Timothy returned her smile with a bright one of his own and a look of relief, and quickly moved closer to the bed, delicately placing the tray on the bedside table. Timothy remained standing next to the bed, unsure of what he should do or say next.
Casting his eyes down at his feet, he quietly said, “I know you’re sad.” When Shelagh’s tearful gaze remained fixed on the tray, he looked toward her with his heart fluttering nervously in his chest and continued, “I wish I could make you happy again.”
Shelagh looked up at Timothy with absolute wonder in her eyes before her face crumbled and the tears began to fall. Reaching her arms out toward him, she pulled him to sit on the bed and her body frantically wrapped around him, cocooning him in her arms.
“Oh, Timothy… my dearest sweet boy,” she hiccuped through a flood of tears, clutching him with all her might. “You do make me happy, so very happy,” she choked, “Oh, my sweet darling boy.” She moved her right hand to cradle his head tightly to her chest, while the other rubbed gentle circles on his back. She softly leaned her chin down and wept into his hair, squeezing her eyes tight, as she sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for the child she had already been given. After a few moments, when her tears began to subside, she found the words she needed to speak: “I thank God every day that he blessed me with you, Timothy. I love you so very much,” her voice soft and tender and filled with love.
Shelagh slowly pulled back to look at Timothy, still keeping the boy in her warm embrace. When Timothy peered up to meet her gaze, he was met with a smile, a real one this time, one that reached all the way up to her watery eyes with love and pride. He beamed at her with one of his sunny smiles, the kind that always made her heart melt with joy and gratitude, and shyly said, “I love you, too, Shelagh.”
Still smiling, Shelagh gently patted the space next to her. “Come sit with me,” she implored, “and we can have our tea.”
Timothy clumsily clambered onto the bed and settled himself close to her side before carefully accepting the cup of tea she held out for him. Reaching over to retrieve her own cup and saucer, she turned back to him. “Now,” she said brightly, “Tell me about something you learned in school today…”
I am offended that u say brendon's mouth isnt as good as pete's have u SEEN that mans mouth??????
I meant no offense to you or Bden but allow me to make my case:
That’s just… like… not even fair.
His mouth is the size of Lake Michigan. Like??? How???
Look at his motherflippin LIPS. HIS LIPS. They are caRVED FROM MARBLE. THEY ARE PROOF THAT GOD EXISTS AND WANTS US TO BE HAPPY.
LIIIIIIPPPPPSSSSSSSSSS JESUS GOD HIS LIPS
Sweet Christ in heaven, look at that smILE I AM DYING TO DEATH oh my GOD PETE
Look at his smile, his massive mouth, his excessive shark teeth! THIS IS THE FACE OF GOD AND I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT
You really need a gif or two to appreciate it, though, I mean… look at the way it spreads across his entire face. His eyes get all squinchy and his little cheeks and oh my god he has so many teeth and I JUST CAN’T GET OVER HOW BIG HIS FLIPPIN MOUTH IS JESUS CHRIST
I am dead. I am dying. I am dying to death because he is so beautiful and his smile makes my heart want to throw itself into the sun.
This gif is saved to my computer as “sweet jesus” and that’s really all you need to know about it.
Seriously???? LIKE???? LOOK AT HIS MOUTH????? SO BIG AND SO PRETTY AND HIS LIPS AND HIS SMILE AND I CAN’T EVEN OH MY GOD
Harry Styles, professional nanny, is unprepared for the challenges his newest client’s family has in store for him. Nick’s daughter great and so is her father- in fact, they’re everything he’s ever wanted. Good thing they seem to feel the same.
HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY!!!!
,。・:*:・゜ヽ(*゜∀゜*)ノ ・:*:・゜’i could not be any more proud of you, my precious lil fishie! you’ve accomplished so many amazing things this year…. from your solo debut, 2 solo music show wins and teen top’s comeback! you’ve worked so incredibly hard and deserve all the recognition in the world! it has been an absolute joy to watch you grow, not only as an artist/performer, but as an admirable and gracious young man, whose personality shines through as much, if not, even more than your amazing talent. despite what others say about you, your kind heart and optimistic attitude will always speak louder than anyone else’s opinions. i hope you take the time to celebrate life and always remember how much you are loved and bring happiness into so many lives. thank you for being the beautiful and humble boy you’ve always been. you will always have a special place in my heart, always and forever~ ♡
HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY HANDSOME AHN DANIEL! I LOVE YOU!