WHY ME - Tumblr Posts
seeing them with someone else, finally getting the truth by that but... it's a feeling that can't be explained. It goes deep. You feel everything at once. Brutal heartache.
My head game must be fantastic because life sure does like fucking me đ
AHHH!! THIS IS AMAZING!!

Why Me? - Part 11
Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)
Warnings: Forbidden relationship, ANGST, violence, nightmares, mentions of PTSD, mentions of child abuse, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, therapy (we love), mentions of death/being sick
Word Count: 12k
Summary: You're still reeling after what happened with Bob, but it all comes crashing down to reality when you go to work the next day. As you reminisce on memories you thought were lost, you make a move you know you should have made a long time ago. Things come to a head with Rooster once more, and you find yourself grieving for something you never had.
A/N: Well hellooo beautiful people!! I apologize for being gone so long, writers block had me in a chokehold and... yeah. But I'm back and I hope you enjoy! I'm not making any promises, but hopefully the next part will be out MUCH sooner than this one was.
p.s. I love every single one of you and comments and reblogs keep me going. That is all.
Masterlist

21 years ago
âBug!â, Carole yells up the stairs, âWe gotta meet your dad and Bradley at the school, weâre gonna be late!â It was only your first week of being back with your dad and the Bradshawâs for the summer, but it was a busy one at that. Bradley was still finishing up his last week of school while yours got out two weeks ago. And while your dad just got home from a 6-month deployment three days ago, Carole and Bradley were more than happy to make the weekend trip up to Ohio to come get you before he came back.
âBug!â, she yells one more time with no response. Breathing out a sigh, she ascends the stairs and knocks on your door. âAre you almost ready sweetheart? Weâre gonna be late for Bradleyâs piano recitalâ Using two hands to open the door, you stand before her in the frilly yellow sundress the two of you bought while shopping the previous day. âWell donât you look pretty! Are you all ready to go?â She watches as you shift your mouth to the side of your face. Bending to your level, she moves to push some of your hair behind your ear.
âWhatâs a matter?â You shrug and look into her big blue eyes. She hums in question as she looks you over. Your lip wobbles as you reach to touch the necklace around her neck, admiring it with gentle fingers. They trace over the silver butterfly pendant hanging just below her collar bone. Something was wrong this time around. You were⊠different from the little girl she said goodbye to last August. More timid, almost frightened to do anything you would deem as wrong. You werenât even like this when you spent your winter break with them. It might have been the excitement of the impending holiday that kept her from noticing, but something changed since then.
It wasnât uncommon for you to run into her arms when you first saw her for the summer, but the way you clutched onto her shirt and wouldnât let go, so hard to the point that she had to carry you to the car, she knew something was wrong. And now, youâve been so quiet. So unlike what sheâs used to when youâre with Bradley, or just in her presence for that matter. When she got you all buckled in and on the road, it took less than 20 minutes for you to be knocked out completely, like you were finally able to let your guard down and sleep.
âI missed you and daddy. And Bradley.â Her heart breaks as she watches you sniffle. As you let go of the necklace, she reaches forward and effortlessly wraps you in a hug.
âOh bug, we missed you, too. So much.â Her hand rubs circles up and down your back as she comforts you. âBut weâll get this whole summer together, and weâre gonna have so much fun. Right?â She moves back to watch you nod your head and rub a small fist over your cheek. Instinctively her hands move to replace your own, swiping your tears away with her thumbs.
Your eyes move back to the necklace and she follows your gaze. Without a second thought, her hands move behind her neck, unclasping it as she holds it in her fingers for you to look at.
âDid I ever tell you where I got this necklace from?â Shaking your head, you sniffle once more. âYou know how I told you about your uncle Goose? Bradleyâs daddy?â You nod as you trace your fingers along the chain. âWell, on our first date we went to a movie, then walked around in this big mall, kinda like the one we went to. We passed a jewelry store, and this necklace was in the window. I stopped to look at it and I told him how pretty I thought it was.â She pauses for one second before lightly pushing on your shoulders to turn you around.
âWe went on a few more dates after that. And then-â, the necklace falls into your view as her hands come up to clasp it around your neck, âHe finally asked me to be his girlfriend. I asked what took him so long, and he told me he was so nervous I would say no. Isnât that so silly?â You giggle as she turns to have you look at her once more. âI of course said yes, and then that goof, he reached into his back pocket and gave me a little bag. And inside of it was this necklace.â She pokes the spot where the butterfly sits on your chest, hanging a little longer on your small body than on hers. âIn that moment I realized two things. First, was that he bought the necklace still thinking I would say no. And knowing him he would have given it to me either way. And second, was that I was pretty darn sure I was gonna marry him.â
âDo you miss him?â your tiny voice asks as she looks up from the necklace back to your innocent eyes.
âEveryday. I used to wear this necklace to remind me of him, or look at my wedding ring that he picked out all by himself. But I realized I can just look over to Bradley and know thereâs still a little piece of him with me everywhere I go.â Her eyes fill with unshed tears, not unlike most times when she thinks about her husband, but she smiles through it like she always does. Her hand smooths over your head as she looks at you wearing her necklace.
âOh he would have absolutely adored you.â She clears her throat once before changing subjects, âNow whenever you look at this necklace I want you to remember that me, Bradley, and your Daddy are always with you, ok? No matter what.â
âI can keep it?â
âOf course!â, she says like itâs the most obvious thing in the world sheâs gifting you something that means so much to her. âBut you have to promise me one other thing, ok?â
âWhat?â, you whisper.
âI want you to be brave like your uncle Goose. Because even though he was scared, he asked me anyway. And if he were here, he would tell you it was so worth it. So bug, do you think you can be brave for me?â You silently nod your head at her words, hair falling in your face as you do so. She doesnât need to push it back for you as you do it yourself this time in order to look at her with your head held high.
âGoodâ, she whispers with a smile. It falls slightly as she asks you, âIs there anything you wanna tell me?â She holds her breath as you nod.
âDoes Bradley practice piano a lot?â She stifles a laugh as her brows furrow.
âAll the time, why do you ask?â
âLast time he was playing he wasnât very good.â Hiding her face, she takes both of your hands in hers, rubbing your fingers.
âDonât worry sweetheart, heâs gotten a lot better since then. And even if he didnât, weâd still be front row cheering him on, right?â
âRightâ, you say with a big nod.
âSpeaking of, weâre gonna be late!â She squeezes your hand as the two of you bound down the stairs and into her car.Â
âWas uncle Goose good at piano?â
âOh he was so good at piano.â
âI hope Bradley is, too.â She laughs as she buckles you in the back seat.
âIf heâs anything like his daddy heâll be great. Heâll look like a wild bird doing it, but heâll be just fine.â
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Present Day
Your dad wasnât lying when he told you heâd be waiting until you got home. Opening the door, youâre presented with the back of his head as he watches an old rerun of M.A.S.H. The door clicks as you lock it, and he turns off the t.v. at the sound. You give him a slight smile as he rounds the couch. Even though you drove the entire ten minutes back to your house with all the windows down and the AC on full blast, you can still feel a flush taking hold of your cheeks.
âHow was dinner at Marcelloâs?â, he asks as he folds his arms across his chest, yawning. You search your brain for what the hell heâs talking about until you remember what you told him you were doing.
âOh yeah, it was good. Sorry it took so long, we started catching up and I didnât realize what time it wasâ, you attempt to step past him.
âWho were you seeing again?â
âJust a friend from high school, she was in the area on a work tripâ, you lie. It was easier this way. If you told him you were going to Bobâs he might ask questions about him, and it could lead to more invasive things you didnât want to answer. Making something up completely different was easier than lying about Bob at all. Your dad hums at your answer, and you think he can almost see through you.
âRooster was there on a date. Iâm surprised you didnât run into him.â
âIt was packed for a Wednesday night. And since when does he tell you about his dating life?â
âOh I donât know. He called to let me know he had a box of my old things and we just got to talking. You might actually know her, he said she was a friend of Phoenixâs girl.â You stop at the bottom of the stairs, and you can almost feel your eye start to twitch as you slowly turn around. âFor the life of me I canât remember her name.â
âDoes it happen to be Emily?â He snaps his fingers as he starts readjusting the coffee table and turning lights off.
âThatâs it. You know her?â
âOhâ, you scoff, âYeah I know her. Rooster knows her very well, actually.â He stops what heâs doing and turns to you.
âWhat does that mean- You know what? I donât wanna knowâ, he decides as he walks over to you, placing a kiss at the top of your head. âGoodnight kiddoâ, he says with a yawn. He walks down the hall to his own room, while you remain at the bottom of the steps.
âWhat an assholeâ, you mutter under your breath. For a moment, you arenât thinking about what just happened with Bob, youâre thinking about just how rude both Rooster and Emily were to him only a week ago. And after Roosterâs âapologyâ, he is now going on a date with the woman who had the audacity to laugh in Bobâs face? Typical.
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You hardly sleep at all that night. Worried that you might wake up from another dream. Or not wake up at all and be trapped. These are paranoid thoughts, you know that. But all the same, your body will not allow you to relax for more than an hour. It isnât until youâre sure youâve fallen asleep for at least 20 minutes that your alarm startles you awake.
Groaning, you get up and head to your bathroom. You can already hear your dad starting his morning routine from his room below yours, and you focus on the noise to distract yourself from what you have to walk into today. Not only do you try and fail to forget how Bobâs hands felt, or how rushed he was just to kiss you, the worst part is that you donât want to forget. You donât want to pretend like nothing happened. You want to walk up to him and give him a kiss, ask him how the rest of his night was, if he wants to go see a movie with you on Saturday. But no. You learned from a very young age that getting what you want wasnât really written in the stars.
However, pulling your hair back into a tight bun, you remember that you do have something that you want. You had to sacrifice a lot for it, but you got it in the end. The career youâve always wanted, what you knew you were meant for deep down. Your eyes flicker from your hands as they deftly work to make sure not a hair is out of place, and then back to your face. Your hands stop as you stare at the slope of your nose, the shape and color of your eyes, anything that you think reminds everyone else of her.
You shake your head and get back to the task at hand. Once youâre finished, you eye strictly your hair in the mirror to make sure itâs up to standard, and your eye catches on your phone at the edge of the counter. You begin to chew your lip before unlocking it and searching through your contacts. Under Avila Clinic, your finger hovers.
Contrary to what Penny might have thought, you did have a therapist once upon a time. After your first few nightmares at the Academy, and with the support of Phoenix, you started therapy. Your therapist, Mary, was extremely helpful and understanding. You went to her for years while at school, but then deployments started happening and you got distracted. Life started to finally make sense, and your dreams were few and far between. Eventually they stopped happening altogether, and your naive brain thought that meant they were gone for good. Her practice is on the other coast, but you know itâs going to take a while for a new therapist to get your entire backstory to try and help you. You need someone who already knows, possesses the knowledge on how to help you. Someone you are already comfortable with sharing your feelings with.
A knock comes from your door taking you out of your thoughts.
âYou almost ready to go?â, your dad asks from the hall. Your stomach flips at the thought of having to go to work, even if you do love it. Things have been⊠complicated recently. And even if you did pretend nothing happened already, you have a gut feeling itâs gonna be a lot harder than it was at the beginning of the week.
âYeahâ, you respond, âIâll be out in a minute.â
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Your father is none the wiser as you walk onto base. Your heart is beating so fast youâre worried he might be able to hear the echo against your chest. While he heads to his office to gather what he needs for the day, you set your things in the locker room. You know heâs going to be in there when you walk in the room. Like he always is. Because heâs always so prepared. Groaning, you shut the metal door to your locker and rest your forehead on the cool surface.
âEverything ok Mantis?â, Phoenixâs voice sounds from beside you.
âOh everything is fine and dandy.â Her locker closes as she moves you by your shoulders, leading you out of the room and to your anxiety-induced nightmare.
âOk weirdo. You gonna tell me whatâs really on your mind?â She doesnât stop as she marches you through the classroom where Bob is patiently waiting in his seat. Your eyes meet for the briefest moment before the influx of the rest of the group forces you to move toward your seat.Â
âMaybe laterâ, you whisper to her as she sits. Your gut twists as you try and fail to not stare at the back of Bobâs head. Just last night your fingers were running through that same hair, and now you have to pretend like you donât know what his body feels like against your own. Those thoughts are extinguished rather quickly as Rooster sits next to you. Your body goes rigid as you remember what else your dad told you last night. How dare he? After everything heâs already put you through, heâs so blatantly blind when it comes to other peopleâs feelings. He must feel your energy or the fact that you keep glaring at him through the corner of your eye. So when he looks up and gives you a small smile, you reciprocate. Youâve learned your lesson on confronting people at work, and if you want to fly on this next mission, youâre gonna be on your best behavior.
You are nothing if not professional in the air. Youâre paired up with Phoenix and Bob on your first hop of the day, and if you were an outsider you wouldnât even know there was something else going on. The three of you successfully pull off each paired maneuver your dad assigned with perfect communication. The entire time you were focused on flying, but Bobâs deep voice through the comm system didnât help. It was extremely difficult to focus on what he was saying, not how he was saying it, but you did it anyway.Â
When lunch comes around you walk into the mess hall and sigh. There are two options youâre weighing as you stand near the doorway, clutching your lunch bag in hand. Your âregularâ seat sits empty next to Bob and Rooster is still sitting by himself in the corner. On one hand you could pretend everything was fine and sit next to Bob, or you could pretend youâre not mad at Rooster and sit next to him. Rolling your eyes they land back on Bobâs table where Phoenix is now sat across from him. Your hands sweat as you hold your lunch, eyeing the way Bobâs hands wipe the crumbs of chip dust off onto a napkin. Taking a breath, you allow yourself to be sad for a second.
Bob is quite literally the most perfect man you have ever met. Heâs kind, thoughtful, and funny. Not to mention damn handsome and from your experience the best kisser. Your heart aches at the thought that he deserves to hear all this praise. He told you some of the nicest things anyone has ever said to you, and what did you do in return? When given the chance to tell him how you felt you reached for the logical side of your brain and refused to. In another life, you tell yourself. If you werenât restricted by these stupid rules, if you had the courage to tell him how you felt. But here you still stand in the company of no one but yourself.
His head turns suddenly and youâre met with his eyes as he gives you the slightest smile. An invitation to take a seat at his side. But you swallow and tear your eyes away. They land on Rooster instead who is already looking at you, then at Bob. Itâs too much as you breathe and choose the secret third option. Turning on your heel, you head toward your dadâs office.
Knocking on the cracked door before entering, your dad welcomes you with a surprised smile. His brow furrows slightly as you take a seat across from him at his desk, but he doesnât say anything as you start to eat with him. Even just asking him how his day is going, you catch the smile on his face as he looks across to you, and then back down to his desk. You canât see what heâs looking at, but whatever it is keeps him content until his phone rings.
He quickly apologizes like you were in the middle of a very important business meeting before answering with a, âHey honeyâ. And you know itâs Penny on the other end. Smiling, he holds up a finger, telling you heâll be back in a minute as you watch him leave his office. You turn back to his desk and only see the backs of what look to be a few picture frames littering the top. Funny. You donât think you saw these when you helped him move his stuff in here a couple months ago. That being said, you havenât been in here very often.
Turning back to the door, your dadâs voice faintly echoes down the hall with a laugh, and knowing you have a few minutes, you take a seat in his chair. Your eyes roam over his desk, his aviators sit in front of a Navy mug.Thereâs a few small models of previous jets heâs flown, you take note of the F-14 Tomcat, sitting right in front of a picture of him and Goose. Smiling at the frame of your and Bradleyâs dads, your eyes trace to the others. A more recent picture of you at your Top Gun graduation, Iceman and your father flanking your sides as you triumphantly hold the trophy sits next to one of 7-year old you with Bradley at his piano recital. He was a lot better than you gave him credit for that day, and now you know all that hard work paid off. He can practically play any song you ask him to, and he makes use of that talent whenever he can at the Hard Deck. Penny even joked she should put a tip jar out for him.
Thereâs another picture of the two of them someone must have taken on the carrier right after their triumphant return during the Uranium Mission. Everyone is cheering in the background, and you even have a smile on your face. But you donât remember feeling happy. You were relieved, of course. But it still doesnât erase the hour of agony thinking they were dead. You move on to the next picture of yourself in a dirtied softball uniform, clinging on to Bradleyâs back like a monkey as he walks you to the car after a long summer tournament. Your feet hurt so bad Bradley had offered to give you a piggy-back ride if you shared your popsicle with him. The red juices melted down your arm and onto his shirt, but he didnât complain once.
The last picture is of Goose, Carole, and a tiny Bradley. You smile fondly as you pick up the frame and watch their smiling faces. Your dad told you once that it was one of the last pictures of them all together. God, Bradley looks so much like his dad. Your finger absentmindedly traces where Carole stands, and stops at the silver chain around her neck. A small butterfly pendant sits between her collarbones and a wave of guilt washes over you.
You werenât brave like you promised her. At least you thought you werenât. You held on to that necklace for the few years that you had it, but ultimately when Carole got sick, you couldnât bear it anymore. She slept a lot toward the end, the medication making her tired. One night, you crept into her bathroom and put the necklace back in her jewelry box hoping she wouldnât notice, or wouldnât say anything to you. She never brought it up, so you assumed it was one of the two. But looking at it now you wish you would have kept it. Kept that little piece of her she so generously gave to you. Maybe that little reminder would have made it easier to keep going after her and Bradley left.
Placing the frame back in its place, you chew your lip. You grab your phone and before you can decide not to, you press the call button. It rings a couple times before someone answers in a cheery voice.
âAvila Clinic, how can I help you?â
âHi, Iâd like to make an appointment.â
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Bob sits in silence the entire rest of lunch. He thought maybe you two would be civil toward each other. He also thought that last night meant you cared about him, but right now it doesnât feel that way. The initial sting of you not sitting next to him today is gone. He gets it. But the fact that you didnât even acknowledge him when he smiled at you? That hurt.
Heâs so conflicted as he walks back to the classroom. Maybe you have your own things going on and this isnât about him. But how could it not be? You two talked last night. You kissed for crying out loud. You asked him to and pulled him against you. God, he literally begged you to kiss him again and now heâs feeling embarrassed. Something he thought you would never make him feel. What hurts most of all is how he misses just being around you. As much as he loved kissing you, he loved being your friend. Listening to you talk, learning about your life. Everything was so easy. You never even had to try to make him like you, it was as simple as breathing.
He decides he canât take any of this personally. Easier said than done, though.Â
You donât look in his direction the rest of the day. He doesnât have eyes in the back of his head, but if you were looking at him heâs pretty positive he would have felt it. In fact, youâre pretty quiet, too. Heâs hardly paying attention as Mav goes over everyoneâs flights, but perks up when he mentions your name.
âAlright, Phoenix, Bob, and Mantis.â Your flights are brought up on the screen as well as what maneuvers you were practicing together. âOr as I like to call you guys; The Dream Team.â Phoenix breathes out a laugh to his left as Mav continues to praise you for your team work. Kind of ironic that you work so well as a team together even though he feels like heâs had not only his body, but his head in the clouds all day.
âSo you three, give yourselves a pat on the back. Great job.â Phoenix turns to him first to give him a fist bump, then turns over to you. He turns with her and finally catches your eye as your smirk falters. He watches you clench your fist before offering it toward him, and with a forced smile his knuckles tap your own. There was no celebration to be had when all it does is create more awkward tension between the two of you. He used to relish in these little moments the two of you shared, but now knowing that you want absolutely nothing to do with him it only serves as a reminder for what he lost.
-----------------------
Youâre quiet again as you head home with your dad. Guilt is eating you alive at the way Bob smiled at you today. Itâs not real anymore. Nothing about it is genuine, and why would it be? You continue to create situations in which someoneâs heart is going to get broken, and it always ends up being your own. This time thereâs another casualty and you canât stand it being Bob. He deserves so much more than that.
Your father is humming along to the radio while you stare out the window when your phone buzzes. AVILA CLINIC flashes on your screen and youâre quick to answer.
âHello?â
âHi, this is Tiffany from the Avila Clinic, am I speaking to Miss Mitchell?â The same cheery woman from earlier asks.
âYes, this is she.â
âHi Miss Mitchell. We spoke earlier about setting up an appointment a couple weeks from now on the fourth of October, but your therapist Mary had a sudden cancellation for tomorrow. I know you said you wanted to get in as soon as possible, does tomorrow at 4:00 pm Pacific Time work for you?â
âYesâ, youâre quick to agree, âYes, that absolutely works for me.â
âPerfect. Weâll email you a Zoom link thirty minutes before your appointment.â
âSounds great, thank you so much.â Hanging up the phone, your dad clears his throat, expectantly waiting for an explanation as to who that was.
âI have a zoom meeting at 4:00 tomorrow.â His brow raises as he urges you to continue. âItâs a therapy appointment-â, you try to ignore the way both his brows raise at the admission, âAnd itâs at the house, so I would really appreciate it if, ya knowâŠ.â
âI get it, I get itâ, he waves you off, âIâll make myself scarce.â A weight is lifted from your chest as he continues driving. You know how men of his generation view therapy, but he himself has benefited from those services over the course of his life. In your own opinion you think he could benefit from some more, but, you really donât think heâll go for it unless heâs doing it for someone else.
âThanks, dad.â
-----------------------
You didnât expect it. You thought you were safe. Especially after last night of nothing, you went to bed naively thinking you could have a peaceful nightâs sleep. Awaking with a choked gasp, you reach for your throat begging it to open up. Breath after breath gets a little easier, until the tears start and you just canât stop. The dark does little to ease your racing mind.
It started normally, just a hazy dream of you walking down the street back in Ohio, stopping at a storefront and staring in the window. Your reflection is what set you off. It was you at first, you were able to identify little features that were your own, but then- It turned into her completely. You ran as fast as your feet would let you, but the only destination was your old house. Still, you tried to get as far away from her as possible, you couldnât see her, but you could feel her not far behind you. Running up the stairs, you booked it to your room and slammed the door shut, holding your body against it so she couldnât get in. She banged and screamed as hard and as loud as she could until it finally⊠stopped. It was silent as tears streamed down your face. Giving you a false sense of security, you stepped away from the door.
Holding your breath, you made it three steps away before the door flung itself open. You were already walking backwards when she pushed you into the wall, and head first you hit it. You must have started choking on your own tears in real time, and you imagine the lack of air is what caused you to wake up.
Even as you sit up in bed now, the thought that it was only a dream does nothing to reassure you. The room is too hot, and instead of making the same mistake of running to your bathroom, you tiptoe down the hall so as to not alert your father, and sit on the back porch. The cool September breeze blows over your sweat slicken skin as you breathe in⊠and out. In⊠and out. Youâre still sobbing as quietly as you can, and you know it was a dream. Just a dream- this time.
You donât tell your dad exactly what happened, but he knows. He was surprised to see you outside when he got up this morning, but you just told him you couldnât get back to sleep so you sat out to see the sunrise. It was when he tried resting his hand on your shoulder and you flinched away that he knew you left some details out. Without him having to say a word, he gave you a look and you reassured him you were fine. You knew you werenât, really. But the only thing keeping you going was the idea of getting up in the air, and the fact that you had therapy later today.
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For the first time in a very long time, Bob wasnât looking forward to going to work this morning. He felt like a kid dreading going to school again. But, he forced himself anyway, and now as he walks the halls, he doesnât know if heâll be able to face another day where you completely ignore him. This isnât the best way to deal with⊠whatever happened between you two, you must know that. Right? In the end no matter what you told him he was still going to be your friend, but youâre giving him the idea that you donât want that.
Heâs surprised to find you already in the classroom, your pen tapping at the sheet of maneuvers in front of you. No one else is there but the two of you, and he takes a minute to breathe in the silence that settles. Your mouth is twisted, you keep switching from chewing one side of your lip to the other. Your brow is furrowed to the point that thereâs a sharp knot in your forehead. Whatever youâre looking at canât possibly be that perplexing. You could fly each of these tasks with your eyes closed, and yet you look deep in thought. He opens his mouth to say something, taking a step forward at the same time, but a hand claps down on his shoulder as he does.
âMorning, Bob, Mantisâ, Phoenix greets the two of you. You hum in acknowledgement but your eyes never leave your paper. Bob watches as she taps your knee with her hand. You quite literally jump at the movement, dropping your pen in the process as it rolls under his seat. âHey, you ok there?â
âYeah, sorryâ, you rush out as your hand trembles. Bob can hear Phoenix ask if youâre sure, while he kneels on the floor to retrieve your pen. When he gets up, heâs still on his knees holding your pen out to you. Your hollow eyes look back at him as the two of you freeze, sharing a moment that feels stuck in time. A shaky hand extends to grab your pen from him, and it takes everything in him not to reach further and squeeze your hand. Letting you know heâs there.
âThank youâ, you practically whisper.
âAny timeâ, he responds just as softly. The rest of the squad enters the room as you tear your eyes away from his and look back to your papers. He watches as you continue what you were working on when he entered, but instead of your pen, your foot taps the floor.
You walk away too quickly once Maverick assigns you to the first flight of the day, but Bob knows somethingâs wrong. So he waits until itâs his and Phoenixâs turn, hoping to catch you out on the tarmac as you land, but youâre still in your cockpit as they walk past. He slows, feigning a loose shoelace as he urges Phoenix to keep going.
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Your flight had done well to get your mind off of last night, but itâs still with a deep breath that you grip the ladder as you descend. Helmet in hand, you turn to make your way back inside and grab a needed drink of water.
âMantis?â Bob's gentle voice has you looking up at him.
âHi- Bobâ, you respond, a little taken aback he was waiting for you. He keeps his distance as Fritz and Hangman walk past the two of you.
âAre you- are you doing ok?â
âYeahâ, you clear your throat, âIâm doing ok.â It feels like his sapphire eyes can see right through you as you shift on your feet. You can lie all you want, but you know he can tell. Itâs his turn to shift on his feet as he blinks rapidly before realizing what he needs to say.
âI know it might be hard, but you can still talk-â
âBob!â, Phoenix yells from her ladder, âItâs go time!â Lost in his train of thought, He struggles to find the words as he clenches his helmet in his hand.
âBob, Iâm ok.â Heâs hesitant as Phoenix yells his name again, pointing at her watch this time.
âIf you say soâ, he nods as you stare at your feet. With one last look at your shifting eyes, he jogs over to Phoenix who is beginning to grow even more impatient. You watch him climb into his seat before trudging back to the hangar where Rooster waits at the door.
âDonât say anything.â
âWasnât gonna.â You roll your eyes as he walks behind you. He still doesnât know that you know about his little date Wednesday night. You continue to bite your tongue as you sit across from him in the ready-room.
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After another lunch-date with your dad in his office, you do your best to avoid both Rooster and Bob. And thank goodness all of you are being let out early today, or you wouldnât be able to sit through another hour of going over everyone elseâs flights.
âAlright, thatâs everything I have for today. Depending on weather conditions on Monday, we may not have you come in, but Iâll keep you posted. Stay safe this weekend everyone.â Checking your watch, it reads 3:00, only an hour before your session which leaves you a little anxious. But after last night you are more than ready to get the help you need.
Youâre out of the class room before everybody else, and soon enough gathering your stuff from your locker. Phoenix stops you before you can get out the door and to your dadâs office to wait for him.
âHey! Floyd was looking for you.â You try your best to not look surprised at the notion, but you can feel your face contort in confusion.
âOh, is he-â, you motion to the door of the locker room, asking if heâs waiting for you outside.
âNo, he had to go. Butâ, reaching into her pocket, she grabs something and holds it out for you, âHe did tell me to give you this.â And in between her fingers, Phoenix holds a penny. The sight of an object so abundantly common as a coin has you holding your breath. You have seen so many pennies throughout your life, but who this one came from means so much more to you than any other has. Swallowing, you reach out and gingerly take it from her hands, as if it would break if you dropped it. Strangely, you can feel your face heat up at the notion. Thatâs what he was trying to tell you earlier. Heâs still ready and willing to listen if you need to talk.
 âIs this some kind of weird inside joke between the two of you or did he really just owe you one cent?â You grip the copper coin as if it were his own hand reaching out to you, and place it in your pocket.
âNoâ, you laugh, âitâs just something Bob does.â Her brow raises as she stares at you with a weary eye. Obviously not understanding whatâs so funny about it.
-----------------------
As if you couldnât be more anxious for this zoom, your dad was held up by both Cyclone and Warlock when you got to his office. Thereâs only 20 minutes before your meeting when you get home, so unlike what you had planned you canât take a shower beforehand. Still needing to change out of your flight suit, you put on a random shirt and jeans that were lying around your cluttered room. You glance at your own watch, 3:55. Before you forget, you run downstairs to find your dad putting his tennis shoes on.
âHeyâ, you grab his attention as he looks up from the couch, âI just thought Iâd let you know my meetingâs about to start in like five minutes soâŠâ
âDonât even worry about meâ, he reassures you, âIâll be outside doing yard work the entire time. Might as well do it now before I canât do it this weekend.â Smiling, he gets up with his sneakers on and gives you a wink before shutting the front door behind him.
Popping your earbuds in, you open your laptop. Your palms are sweating as you click on the link in your email. A blank screen pops up with a small wheel telling you itâs loading, and then you see her. Mary. Your first and only therapist. The first person you ever told your deep dark secrets to. Bob being the second and only other. She speaks your name softly as you smile at the warmness in her tone. It takes you back to when you were only a student, having no idea how to traverse the world without the proper support.
âItâs good to see youâ, her honey voice greets you.
âItâs good to see you, tooâ, you nod. You notice that even through the camera, sheâs letting her gray hair take over what was mostly a thick and lucious black when you first met her. Thereâs a few more crinkles around her eyes that you find when she smiles at you, but itâs still like greeting an old friend.
âSo howâs it going, how have you been?â
âUmâ, you laugh awkwardly, âThings could be better.â
âOk, why donât you go ahead and tell me why you reached out.â Breathing out a shaky breath you start talking. You tell her about the dreams returning, the panic attacks, how you didnât know where you were when you were gone for hours. She takes diligent notes the entire time, nodding and assuring you sheâs listening.
âSo let me ask you a question; do you know what triggered these nightmares? Did something happen?â You think back to the night you kissed Bob and before you can even get butterflies, the image of your mother in your dream pops the bubble. Taking a leap of faith and a deep breath all in the same beat, you turn back to the camera.
âThis is all in confidence, right?â She sighs your name before answering.
âYou know it is. Unless what you did put other people or yourself in harmâs way then we are fine to discuss it without me telling anyone.â Taking out one earbud, you can still hear your dad with the lawnmower, so you continue.
âI kissed someone. Twice. It was after the first time that I had a nightmare.â
âIâm not seeing the problem here.â
âHeâs on my squadron. And there is a pretty strict no fraternization rule.â
âOh, I see.â
âYeah. So I broke a rule, made him break a rule. And I guess I just feel so guilty about it. And I did something wrong, which is why I had the dream.â
âAnd you had the second dream after the second kiss?â
âNot the night of. I didnât get a lot of sleep because I was scared of it happening again. But last night was the second one. It wasâŠterrifying. I didnât think they were gonna come back. And I just blew up on everyone the first time around. My dad, Bradley-â
âWait, Bradley as in, the Bradley that you grew up with?â
âThatâs the one.â
âAnd you just see him regularly now? I mean I was looking through all your old notes and you were still pretty upset with him. Does time really heal all wounds?â You chuckle at her sarcasm.
âNo, not really. It was awkward at first. But I hardly talked to him while we were working on the special detachment. After it was over, it looked like he made up with my dad, and we were made a permanent squadron. Thatâs when it started going downhill. Long story short, we were just kind of bickering, not really talking about the elephant in the room. He ended up saying something, I had a panic attack, then I punched him, then he started-â
âWait, wait, wait- You punched him? I am going to need the long version of the story here. We donât do short stories in therapy.â So you explain. Everything. How your little comments started to quickly cut deeper, how he told you to be careful before your drinking contest, and all the little warnings after the fact. And then the devastating moment where he betrayed your trust completely, leading to Bob comforting you at one of your lowest moments. And then of course, when you punched him, and how heâs been trying to get on your good side ever since, how he claims he thought you were calling to brag. As if he didnât know what your mother was like.
âWow. Thatâs a lot.â You nod in agreement. âHow has it been with him since?â
âItâs so weird. Heâs tried to do a complete 180, and claims heâs watching out for me. He was actually at the party, the one where I kissed- umâŠâ
âYou donât have to say his name, itâs ok.â
âMy teammateâ, you find the courage to finish.
âThis is a lot to process in such a short amount of time. How have you been handling it?â You scoff at just how many times youâve had panic attacks and cried within the last month.
âNot well. Which is why I thought I should reach out.â
âIâm glad you did. I wish that therapy was a one and done kind of situation, but itâs going to take some time. Are you ready for that kind of commitment again? I know it got busy last time, and with deployments it was hard. But are you ready to put in the work?â You sigh and silently nod your head, biting your lip to avoid speaking with a frog in your throat.
âWell I hate to say this, but I think your dreams may be happening for a different reason than they did way back when they first started.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âWell, you came to me such a short time after the abuse stopped.â You try not to flinch at the word, but instinctively shut your eyes when she says it. â When you stopped seeing her you were scared she was going to come back and find you. Now, I think your brain is reliving some memories to punish yourself. Because you feel guilty. And the fact that you see parts of her in you is making you resent yourself even more. Making you push people away before they can do the same to you.â Huh, you think.
âDoes that resonate with you at all?â You laugh because itâs the only thing you can do at the moment. She hit the damn nail on the head.
âYeah. Yeah it does.â
âNext time if you have a dream, hereâs what I want you to do: I want you to find at least five things about yourself that are completely different from your mom. It can be little things in the way you look, the way you act, or anything. Because you are different. You arenât her.â Your eyes sting at the influx of tears, and you lean your head back to stop them from falling.
âOk, I know this was a pretty heavy session, so I want to end it on a higher note. I would like you to tell me at least three people in your life right now that make you feel loved, special, or wanted.â You shake your head, physically trying to put your mentality in a different spot than where it was at with your mother. Reaching for a tissue, you dab the straggling tears that threaten to fall.
âUm- ok. My dad, my friend Natashaâ, you list out, still thinking about a third person. You canât help that the third person your mind is pushing you to say is also the one person youâve been trying to avoid thinking about. But itâs true. He makes you feel special and so wanted itâs kind of overwhelming, âAnd my friend Bob.â
-----------------------
With a deep breath you close your laptop and take out your ear buds. Your room feels stuffy all of a sudden, like all your thoughts and feelings are trapped into the sealed box. You stride across the room to open your window, and you hear your dad talking to someone. Then the snap of what you only know as a baseball hitting a glove echoes across the house. Unfortunately for your snoopy personality right now, your window faces the side of the neighbors, so you descend the stairs and look through the window in the living room.
The weather is surprisingly warm and sunny for a day before a storm. Perfect weather for spending outside you suppose. Your dad stands at one end of the yard, throwing the ball as you follow the line to the glove worn by, of course, Rooster. All of these old feelings came to life when you had to talk about him and everything else that has been happening for the past hour. When thinking about everyone who makes you feel loved, special, and wanted, Rooster did not make the cut. In fact, he has made you feel unwanted, unloved, and unimportant for the past 10 years. He threw you away like you were nothing, and even if he did apologize, it doesnât take away the hurt that he left you with. But here he is. Throwing a baseball around with your dad like he didnât avoid him for the last 16 years.
You huff out a breath before opening the front door, and plastering on a fake smile. If you were going to talk to him now was as good a time as any. You kind of feel bad for him, he had no idea he was walking into when he came over today.Â
âHey dadâ, you squint through the fading sun as the two men look your way.
âOh hey kiddo! How was your⊠meeting?â
âIt was good, veryâ, you turn and squint slightly more at Rooster who tosses the ball up and back into his hand, âenlightening.â
âThatâs good. Rooster here just popped over with a box of some old things, and we found our baseball gloves.â
âI can see that. Mind if I have a go?â He tries not to look as surprised as he feels by your request, but starts taking off his glove as you walk over to him.
âSure.â You take the warm leather glove, slipping it onto your hand as you adjust to the feeling. Slapping the worn palm, you flap it a couple times in Roosterâs direction as he tosses it at you. Not throws. Tosses. Catching it in your bare hand, you raise your brow at him.
âReally?â
âWhat?â
âYou act like we werenât taught to throw a ball by the same personâ, you note as you hook your thumb to your dad standing just to the side. âThrow it like you mean it.â Rolling the ball a couple times in your hand, you grip it and throw the fading white ball straight at Bradleyâs chest. He manages to catch it with little time to spare, obviously underestimating just how hard you can throw. He glances over to your dad with wide eyes as he shrugs back with a smile. A hint of pride in his features. Rooster looks back at you while you open and close your glove a couple times.
âYou sure you can handle it?â You roll your eyes at his assumption. Either he thinks too highly of his throwing ability, or way too low of your ability to catch a damn ball.
âYes. Iâve handled a lot worse that youâve thrown my way, so-â, you flap the glove once more, âtry me.â
Rooster winces at the insinuation. But he gives up holding back, not all the way quite yet, but he throws it back with some of the power he was using with your dad. You continue throwing and catching the ball as your dad watches on with a warm smile.
âAlrightâ, he comments, âLooks like you two are doing fine, so Iâm gonna go finish mowing the lawn.â He heads through the gate to the backyard as Rooster gets finished catching your last throw to him. Rooster takes the ball into his hand to throw back, but hesitates before putting it back in his glove.
âAre you ok?â
âYeah, why wouldnât I be?â
âI donât knowâ, he responds as if pondering the question himself, âYouâve just got this look in your eye.â He winds up, and you catch the ball as he throws it at your chest. Mirroring his earlier action, you roll the ball around in your palm as you contemplate your next move.
âIâve always got that look in my eye. If I donât have it, that means somethingâs wrong.â You throw it back the tiniest bit harder, but Rooster does well to mask his surprise at the force. Heâs still got that hint of suspicion on his face, but otherwise ignores it and is about to throw the ball back before you speak up.
âOh, there is one thingâ, you laugh without any real humor, âHow was your date with Emily?â The ball slips from his hand as he attempts to throw it at you, causing it to fly up in the air before landing and rolling to your feet. His mouth opens and closes before he finally decides to say something as you raise an eyebrow at him.
âIt was- it was- Whereâd you hear about that?â Stepping forward, you pick up the ball.
âFor an old man who means well, my dad canât keep a secret to save his life.â
âI-â, he stands with his hands on his hips, confusion written on his face. There is no way you were supposed to know about this, and now heâs been caught. It feels good for a fraction of a second. âIt wasnât a secret.â He says as he kicks the grass. He reminds you of that little boy you once knew, getting in trouble and trying to hide his guilt. But before you stands the grown man who still canât handle the consequences of his own actions.
âI just canât believe you Rooster.â You throw the ball back to him as he looks up. Hard. It pushes the glove back into his chest and his lips twist into a grimace.
âFor what? Going on a date?â, his voice raises the slightest bit as he throws it back to you. Just as hard. The only difference being you were ready for it.
âNot for that you idiot. For going on a date with her!â.
âWhatâs wrong with her?â Without meaning to, your jaw drops as you look around the street of your neighborhood. Your dadâs lawnmower is still going in the backyard as you turn to him.
âAre you kidding me? Rooster, it was your idea to set her up with Bob, and after she laughed in his face you decided to stick your tongue down her throat in the middle of the party and then what? Ask her out?â
âOk, she kissed me. And it obviously wasnât going to work out between the two of them! Why are you so upset about this?â
âBecause even if she supposedly didnât know she was being set up with Bob, you did! I mean, what the hell kind of wingman are you? But you know what?â, you decide as you throw the ball back to him, closer to his face this time, âYou two assholes deserve each other.â The ball lands in his glove as heâs quick to catch it just below his chin.
âWhoa. Hold on. Youâre kind of being an asshole right now.â
âAre notâ, you huff.
âAre tooâ, he mimics.
âHow am I the one being an asshole for trying to defend my friends?â
âUh-un. Friend. Singular. And youâre being a little too defensive for someone you claim is just your friend.â You swallow, glancing to the gate leading to the backyard, the hum from the lawnmower still going. Thereâs not a chance he could have heard what he said, but youâre still paranoid nonetheless. Roosterâs winding up as you look back at him, giving you barely enough time to catch the ball right in front of your face. Youâd be lying if you said your hand didnât sting from the force of his throw.
âKeep your voice downâ, you grit in his direction. He just shakes his head.
âSo Iâm right thenâ, he scoffs. âYou just donât learn, do you?â You snap back to him as his lip lifts. As if he knows something more than you. He couldnât be more condescending if he tried.
âLearn what?â, you snap, âDonât act like youâre not doing this for any other reason than to rid yourself of whatever guilt you have left.â You grunt, throwing the ball as hard as you can as he catches it with ease. Almost as if youâre playing catcher, he plays his part as pitcher beautifully, winding up even more than before, throwing the ball back to you almost immediately. The ball snaps in the glove you hold up in front of your face.
âThat guilt will live with me for the rest of my life.â The draw of his brows beneath the beating sun tells you heâs angry. Maybe not with you, but itâs still anger either way, and it has to be let out somehow. âSo if I can stop you from making a mistake, keep you from breaking your heart even more than I have, I will do whatever it takes.â Oh youâre angry now. You throw the ball with everything you have back at him. You are not some dumb kid like he was when he left. Youâve been through enough to have grown up younger than you should have.
âIf you really cared about how I felt- or how anybody other than yourself felt that for that matter, you wouldnât set someone up with a woman who is so obviously wrong for him. And thenâ, you laugh, âafter sheâs embarrassed him you wouldnât kiss her in front of him and go on a damn date with her!â He only shakes his head at the ground before gripping the baseball in his right hand, rolling it around.
âI set him up to try and stop you from making a mistake. I was doing it to protect you!â The sound of a dog barking has you whipping your head to the street to your left. It sounds almost identical to Sylvia but you canât seem to find the source of the noise. Your heart beats a little faster at the thought of him taking her for a walk nearby. That would be such god-awful timing. The thought of him possibly walking Sylvia down your street has you too rattled, and youâre slightly disappointed with yourself.
The searing pain hits you before the ball even falls to the ground, as you do with it.
âJesus Christ!â, you scream as you fall to your back, cradling the side of your face the baseball hit.
âOh shit! Oh my god- are you ok?â, Rooster appears on his knees right next to you, brown eyes wide as youâve ever seen them as he grimaces along with you. The glove is just big enough for you to be able to throw it off of your hand, hitting him in the chest as you writhe on the freshly cut grass. You canât help it as the hot tears slide out of your eyes, the pain too much.
âHey, hey youâre fine! Donât cry, please donât cry!â, he pleads as you try to open your eyes long enough to glare at him.
âYou hit me in the face with a fucking baseball of course Iâm going to fucking cry!â, you scream. âYou IDIOT!â
âIâm sorry! Iâm so sorry! I thought you were looking!â You glare at him through your uncovered eye as his hands hover over you. âOk, are you bleeding? Lemme see.â You glare as hard as you can at him as he backs away. The pulse emanating from the side of your face is stopping you from feeling anything else, but youâre pretty sure that liquid sliding down your face are just stray tears that refuse to stay put.
âOk, thatâs fine. Um-â, he panics as you beg yourself to stop crying in front of him. âAlright, Iâm gonna go get some ice, stay right here.â And before you have the mind to make a smart comment about going anywhere, your hands reach out and wrap around his ankle. The unexpected movement causes his weight to shift forward, giving him no time to brace himself as he falls to the ground. It doesnât relieve any pain, but it feels good to watch him face plant onto the grass. There was still so much to say, too much you feel as though you canât even get out your feelings through your words.
âHey, what the hell?!â, he turns over as you grab your discarded glove.
âYou were protecting me?!â. He does his best to dodge your blows, but itâs no use as he puts his hands up to protect himself and his stupid face. With the glove in both your hands, you whack at his torso. âI have been taking care of myself since I was 12!â, you grunt as you continue to hit him. âI am a grown woman! I donât need to be lectured by anybody, especially not you!â
âIâm sorry, just stop!â, itâs obviously more of a nuisance than actually hurting him, but you are in so much pain right now you just want to get him back anyway you can. He attempts to crawl away on his back, but you stop him by sitting on his stomach, causing him to grunt at the unexpected weight.
âHEY!â, you pause at the sound of your dadâs voice, arms lifted in the air mid-blow. Rooster is still covering his face with his arms as he turns to look at your dad. âWhat is going on?!â Your arms are still in the air as the two of you look at each other before attempting to speak over one another.
âHe started it!â âIt was an accident!â, you yell at the same time. The sound of his voice has you looking down at the audacity of the man you are currently pinning to the grass.
âWhy would you throw a ball at someone who isnât looking?!â
âI thought you were!â, heâs quick to defend himself. You catch his gaze soften as his eyes shift to the right side of your face where he hit you with the ball.
âInside, now!â, he orders as you and Rooster scramble to your feet. He walks ahead of you as your dad trails behind you. âGood afternoon Mrs. Callahan!â You turn to find your neighbor walking her goldendoodle just across the street, eyeing the state of all three of you that your dad doesnât try to hide. One of the biggest differences between your parents. Your mother would have walked you delicately into the house pretending everything was under control and just fine. Until she closed the door. Your dad on the other hand, he knows things arenât under his control and he doesnât try to hide it. Heâs not trying to keep up some image. Itâs easy when you donât care what other people think.
The dog barks once more before your dad ushers you inside.
He urges the two of you to sit on the couch as he runs to grab the first-aid kid, and you take one side begrudgingly as Rooster takes the other. Your face is starting to throb, but once you look down at your jeans you notice the grass and dirt stains on not only your knees, but your hands as well. Youâre sure the back of them look the same, as do Roosterâs clothes.
Your dad sits on the coffee table before you, leaning forward as his hand gently moves your face so he can examine it. He tuts as youâre forced to look over at Rooster, who as you expected, is covered in grass stains as he twiddles with his thumbs. You canât help but wonder why heâs still listening to your dad, itâs not like when you were younger and he was left in charge of the two of you. He can leave if he wants to.
âWellâ, your dad starts as he reaches for the gauze, âItâs not bleeding too badâŠâ Huh, so you guess some of that liquid was blood. âProbably from the stitchingâ, he talks to himself as you wince from the pressure heâs applying.
âItâs gonna leave a nice bruise, thoughâ, Wordlessly you push his hand away and apply the pressure yourself as he eyes you once before looking at the man on the other end of the couch.
âYou ok Rooster?â
ââM fineâ, he mumbles back.
âGoodâ, he says as he rounds the coffee table. âCause what the hell is going on? Huh? I left for two minutes!â He takes one hand off of his hips to point at the two of you, ready to go into a rant before his phone rings from where he left it in the kitchen. Glancing between the pair of you and back to the kitchen he slides a dirty hand down his face.
âWait right hereâ, he demands pointing at the two of you before locating the source of the ringing. The only thing you can hear is the muffled sound of your dad talking on the phone, and the slight shift of Rooster on the other end of the couch.
âIâm really sorry-â
âJust-â, you cut Rooster off, âshut up.â Heâs quiet for a second. Just a second. Before he decides heâs not going to listen to you.
âI got a concussion from getting hit in the head with a ballâ, he comments as you roll your eyes. As if you could have forgotten. âMom took me to the ER just in case, and as per usual, she was right.â
âI know, Roosterâ, you interrupt him. âI was there. It was the summer you were on that comp baseball team.â
âI know you were. I just wanna remind you in case you feel like brushing this one off.â
âIâm not-â, you scoff, âWhat makes you think Iâm gonna âbrush this one offâ?â He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck.
âI just remember you always saying when you got hurt that it wasnât a big deal. Concussions are kind of a big deal.â
âI know- Iâve had one.â His brow furrows as he turns to face you, concern written into the creases in his forehead.
âWait- when did you have one?â Your face turns hot as you realize youâve revealed more than you would have liked to.
âI donât knowâ, you shrug as you try to avoid his gaze, âI was like 14.â
âWell what happened?â Taking away the gauze from your face, thereâs a small line of blood, but nothing else. You trade it out for the icepack on the table and gently press it to where youâre hurting.
âI fell into a wallâ, you tell him as you focus on the sting it brings to your cheek.
âYou just fell into a wall?â
âYeah- I tripped over something in my room.â Itâs quiet for a moment as he mulls over what heâs about to say.
âDid you fall or were you pushed?â The color drains from your face as you clench your jaw. How dare he? You turn to face him, dropping both hands into your lap so he has to look at your entire face. Look at what he did.
âNo. You donât get to do this. You donât just get to pick and choose when youâre loyal or protective. You left, Rooster. You knew what was going on and you still decided to leave. So whatever happened after I didnât see you for 16 years, you donât deserve to know.â Heâs quiet as his eyes soften at you.
âAnd as for Bob-â, you clear your throat, âHeâs my friend. And I will defend any of my friends. That included you at one point. I did in fact. I defended you when Hangman made his stupid comments, but now youâre the one who keeps running his mouth, and- and hanging around people who think itâs fine to be so blatantly rude. So you know what, Emily might just be perfect for you.â His mouth opens and closes before he thinks better than to say anything.
âAs far as Iâm concerned, you donât owe me anything and I donât want anything from you. So stop thinking youâre protecting me when all you do is keep reminding me of everything I have lost and canât have.â Heâs actually quiet now, you think you have stunned him into a complete silence. This may just be the time for him to listen, so youâre gonna say what youâve been wanting to say for a long time.
âWhen your mom died- I wasnât just grieving for her. I-â, your throat starts to close up but you push through it anyway, âyou left. You left and I never heard from you again and I had to grieve for someone who wasnât even dead. He chose to leave and never come back. And I know that you were hurting, but so was I.â He clears his throat as you listen to your dad finishing up his conversation. The ice pack crinkles as you press it against your face once more. It really does fucking hurt. âSo please, just once, think of how your actions affect anybody else but yourself.â
He doesnât bother saying anything else. What else is there to say? A sorry wonât even make a difference anymore. Heâs said it too many times for the words to have meaning when they leave his lips. You watch his adam's apple bob before deciding you donât want to look at him even more. The only thing you can hear is the faint sound of your dad from the kitchen, tying up the end of his phone call. Then youâre almost sure you can hear Bradley sniffle before he abruptly stands, staring at his hands.
âIâm gonna go. There are a couple things for you in that boxâ, he motions to the cardboard rectangle sitting on the coffee table. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. âIf you keep getting headaches that wonât go away- just please go get checked out. I uh-â, this is the first time in a long time youâve seen him so nervous he canât find his words. One of the last times was speaking at Caroleâs funeral, and your eyes canât help but tear up at the parallel. âMantis- I donât want to hurt you. But I know I already did, so Iâll leave you alone. Iâm sorryâ, he whispers his apology before heading to the front door. Your dad is walking in just as he leaves.
âWhereâs Rooster?â
âHe had to goâ, you say with a clogged throat. He stands with his hands on his hips, perplexed at the entire situation.
âWell- do I need to talk to him?â
âNoâ, the words fall from your lips, âItâs fine.â He catches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare at the cardboard box on the table.
âHeyâ, he almost whispers to get your attention. You look up with unshed tears in your eyes. âAre you ok?â It hurts to swallow as you try your best not to break the barrier of crying.
âIt just hurtsâ, you explain, not entirely sure what part youâre talking about. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you stand before you let him talk. âIâm gonna go lie down. Iâve had a long day.â With a skeptical eye he lets you go, but not before sending you with the ice pack and letting you know heâd be up to check on you.
Once your back is turned and youâve made it up the last steps, the first of many tears fall without much trying. You turn the shower on instead of lying in bed, deciding to do something somewhat productive. And once out you try your best not to look in the mirror, but catch sight of your cheek. Itâs already swollen, an undertone of purple creeping out from the tiny cut from the stitching of the ball.
After getting into bed you stare at the ceiling, letting the day sink in. You lie there for a moment, trying to quiet your thoughts in order to let you sleep, but theyâre too loud. Turning over, you stare at your bedside table. A framed picture you keep of you and Carole sits next to your phone. You can almost hear her laugh through the glossy finish of the photo, but you see Bradley in her smile through and through. A tear slides across your face and lands on your pillow, darkening the fabric. And you let it happen. You let the next one happen, too. And then you donât stop yourself from crying.
Letting the rest out, you fold your knees to your chest and allow yourself to cry. You cry for Carole, for how much you miss her and how much life she missed out on. And you cry for Bradley. Even if he did hurt you, you cry because you miss him, too. And you cry because you wish you were brave. You wish you had the courage to say something to someone when you were younger. And even now, you cry because you wish you had the strength to look Bob in the eye and say- anything. Get past your own fears of rejection and punishment, and let him know that you see him for what he is. A good person, who deserves everything and more. And you know someday heâll find someone who is more than eager to give that to him. Even if you already are, it can't be you.
Taglist:
@lemmons1998
@itsmytimetoodream
@theamuz
@harrysgothicbitch
@mygyn
@luckyladycreator2
@marve2014
@wretchedmo
@callsignwidow
@finnydraws
@melsunshine
@jostan456
@okiegirl24
@beebeechaos
@eclecticfashionbookszipper
@hunbomb
@nerdgirljen
@knight-of-the-doctor

Woke up to this text. Worst day ever. She was my only friend and she does this over TEXT! I even loved her more than a friend but was to afraid to say anything guess itâs too late now. I hate my life.
... I'm scared that we're mutuals... like, why I, the toaster?
cant believe im mutuals with the real will wood
i love you
Finally having motivation to draw is nice until you realize that you have no ideas and skill
I'm sad, my laptop screen is completely shattered and I need to get it fixed but I also lost the charger and its dead... I also took "professional looking" photos of New York and they are saved on there... đđđ
I FOUND 1 out of hundreds so here take a look, this isn't my favorite but I was my cover photo on fb...

Goose Egg|G|100 Words
Fandom: 9-1-1
Relationships: Eddie Diaz & Isabel Diaz
Characters: Eddie Diaz, Isabel Diaz
Tags: Drabble, Hurt Eddie Diaz, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Summary: Eddie gets hit in the head.
@eddiediaz-week
âWhy did it have to be me?â he almost whined as he let Abuela fuss over him. Of course it could not have been one of his cousins, not when it was just days before he started at the Fire Academy. That would have been too convenient. Now he was going to go in with a nice bruise.
âWell, you should have been paying attention, Eddito,â she tutted. âYou were the one that hung the piñata.â
He huffed a short sigh. Of course she was right, but that did not mean he wanted to admit it. âBut still, why me?â
You know when youâre like, exhausted and just really lazy but you also have to leave the house to go to school of all places. But you still need to look presentable even though your hairâs against you and your fringe refuses to stay put, so you have to do a more time consuming hairstyle (that you really couldnât be bothered to do) just so that you wonât look like a feral possum thatâs on itâs way to burn its cheating exâs house down. Only for the slightest breeze to absolutely ruin all your hard work in less than a second.
Does anyone know of a Discord Server that has Zukka fans and isn't banned of it because of your age?
Bad Season 4 Luck Already
1 second after Season 4 launched. I click to play. Usual skirmish. Got a game. Good mic peeps, high level players on our side, even a group. We start and immediately get a team kill and capture the point. But then someone from the other team leaves. Match is cancelled? We canât even comprehend before we say good bye. I get on again. The exact same thing happens, good team and everything. Friend invites me to a custom game and I take a break. Get on again. I am paired with level 25 or below players. Both teams suck. We end up loosing. I have terrible anger management and am extremely pissed. My first placment match ladies and gents. Iâm not getting on again till tomorrow.
Guess who lost all his data on his computer !!!!
Me!!!
I lost everything!
My work data, my movies, my pictures, my games. All because the hard drive was so damaged data from it couldn't be salvaged.
It all cost me 200 euros and all I have is an empty computer.
I absolutely adore my life!!!! â€â€â€â€
Today, I walked into my college's bookstore and they were playing "Never Gonna Give You Up" By Rick Astley...I think I just rickroll'd myself.
Mister Moon
I miss the moon
He has been
Hiding from me
And I miss
My old friend
He was there
Watching over me
When the demons
Came out to play
And now
Iâm afraid
Shivers race
Down my chilled spine
Exposed
Bare skin
Covered crimson
Warmth enveloped
Broken heart
To the voices
That no longer
Stay quiet
Leave me alone
There is no room
For your hatred
Can you not see
That my own
Fuels my bitter existenceÂ
One by one
All those
That I love
Leave
He stole my sanity
She stole my soul
A hollow cry
Escapes my desert throat
Raspy cries
Muffled by soaked pillows
The vibrant night
Outside my window
Remains ignorant
To my suffering
But why
Tell me why
Does it still hurt
Moon
Why did you go too
You and me
We had an understanding
Made a promise
As the silence threatened
To decimate my body
You told me
I wasnât alone
Wiped awayÂ
Crystal tears
That stainedÂ
Rosy cheeks
Guess I was destined
To immerse myself
In excruciating isolation
Before quietly wilting
Like the decaying rose
Sprouted new poppies
But it is too late
To be saved
Mister Moon
I still love you
i kinda lost it when the landlord tried to steal my device
is this love?
i hate that every simple thing you do or say gives me butterflies