EVERBYTE IF YOU HEAR ME, FRICKING DO THIS THANK YOU

EVERBYTE IF YOU HEAR ME, FRICKING DO THIS THANK YOU

Mmm... I think Eric's little crush in the story for the next chapter he will no longer have it 😆 I need Macie and him would start that friendship and collaboration already, I can't wait until he asks if she has a boyfriend, I want the dynamic of friends between them ✨✨ (And more for adding original content so that a character I have for him appears ✨)

I want a funny scene of Macie apologizing for thinking she gave him hope and poor Eric listening to her talk about Jake and how special he is 🤣 someone has to put up with her obsession/Love like a teenage 🤭 And I think Eric will be happy to see her well compared to how she was the last time they spoke 🥺

I need this friendship so much, maybe even a big brother/little sister dynamic 🤭

Y'all, chapter 15, 16, 17 & 18 are my favourites so far, it feels surreal rereading them, I'm completely amazed by the fact I wrote that. Can't wait until you all can read it too 😭

Until then, remember: updates on The afterfire every Wednesday! Next one is a favourite as well; 9. Chapter 😉

Jessy: You're staring.

MC: No I'm not!

Jessy: You're practically drooling.

MC: No shut up, you're insane.

Jessy: Yeah, you're right. What would you ever see in him?

MC: What is that supposed to mean? He's funny, he's smart, he's handsome, he's- oh.

Jessy:...

MC:...

Jessy: *sniggers*

MC: I can't believe I fell for that.

Are people really... I think humanity is lost

Unforgettable night – an unfortunate visit to bar Aurora

Summary: Paying a visit to Aurora, since Jake has given no signs for months, and suddenly free alcohol doesn't sound that bad after all

Characters: Lyra Ambrose (my Mc from The afterfire), Phil Hakwins, Jessy Hawkins

Warning: use of alcohol, sexual related content, vivid description of intoxicated state

___________________________________________

"It's only a two hours car ride." Lyra paced the living room as she nervously tried to convince herself. She won't deny, the thought of a persuasive PowerPoint slideshow have crossed her mind, but that might have been a bit too sick, even from her. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and stared out into the late afternoon sun that completely covered the street.

"Let's think rationally. What reason do I have to go there?"

What reason does she have? Jake hasn't given a sign of himself in months, not even that he's alive. She was aware of what had happened that night in the mine; the news was full of it, just as the German government itself was puzzled by the incident. The thought, the guilt that she should have been the one to be there didn't let her rest. Richy wanted her to come. All these thoughts embedded themselves in her everyday life, even at night, and dreams suddenly turned into nightmares full of terror.

She couldn't take it anymore, no matter how much she convinced herself, or even Jessy, she started to give in under the weight. The redhead was the only one who knew about it; she shut herself away from the others, refused to hear anything about them. Everything took a toll on Jessy at least as much, and on top of that, even keeping a secret fell on her shoulders. This also made Lyra feel terrible. She would have preferred to escape from the world.

And what was she about to do? Go to the very place all her problems originate from.

"This will be just one night..." she picked up the car keys from the dresser and put them back. "I can't hide here forever, waiting to wither away."

But you know well you deserve it. The evil little voice in her head spoke. This voice had guided the longest six months of her life so far, and before she could surrender to it again, she grabbed her jacket and bag, shoving the key in hee back pocket. She calmed herself down the whole way with the thought that nothing would go wrong, and suddenly the promise of free alcohol didn't sound that bad after all.

* * * * *

The woman pulled into the parking lot next to the building in total darkness. Even from the road, the illuminated sign was clearly visible; the Aurora welcomed those who wanted to have fun with open arms tonight. Carefully pulling on the worn-out jacket, she started towards the entrance wearing the blouse she had just put on for the first, and most certainly for the last time in her life.

Uncomfortable and too cut out, she thought. She sneaked through the door and immediately stopped, all she could manage to say was: "Damn thing this is."

The music was louder than it should have been for the ears, she could almost feel the blood rushing in hee eardrums. At some places, the lights were as blinding as on the sign outside, the inhalation of the smell of alcohol and people was unavoidable. This wasn't a nice little bar where you sit at the end of the day, Lyra realized, but a party place. Why though, hardly any young people live here!

She ventured inside, since she can't stand leaning against the door. She fought her way through the people – not many, but there were noticeably enough to block her way – and reached the bar, where a man was wiping the glasses deep in thought. Lyra plopped down on a chair and waited patiently for him to notice. As she did so, she scanned the tattooed black haired from head to toe. All his movements were measured and determined as he placed the whiskey glasses one by one. He looked quite like a bartender, she came to the conclusion.

"What can I give you?" He asked without looking at her. Lyra watched from the side as his Adam's apple bounced up and down his tattooed neck. It's pretty scary that someone can stand someone drawing it full on there. The guy must be a sociopath.

"Something pretty strong and a lot."

At that, he suddenly turned his head to the woman who was resting her elbow on the counter. He, too, studied her, brows narrowed in thought. Or maybe he was surprised? Did he find her question unclear?

"Lyra, am I wrong?"

"Nince meeting you in person, Phil." She held out her hand for him to shake.

"Surprising you found your way here after all these months."

Lyra watched as he set to make her drink, trying to answer with a good composure. "I remembered your invitation. Would've been rude to forget about it." The silence was long, so before it got awkward, she quickly asked, "Have you talked to Jessy?"

"I should've?"

She stared back at him in disbelief. "She's sister! She's in a terrible state because of the loss of a friend, you emotionally cold prick! Of course–"

"Quiet," he hushed, nervously running his eyes over the crowd. Even if they wanted to, they wouldn't have heard anything. If it wasn't for the music, then because of the alcohol. "And don't call me a prick."

The woman forced herself to calm down. "I'll call you whatever the fuck I want since I take better care of her than her own brother."

Phil shrugged and reached for another bottle, but Lyra didn't even have time to finish the first glass. "What are you doing?"

"Drink." He pointed at the ingredients. "This is my job."

"I didn't ask for a new one."

"You're my guest, drink as much as I make. Drink as much of them as you can, of course."

As if this were a challenge, Lyra took the half-finished cocktail from him and drank it up with two sips. Phil watched in amusement how that woman whom he just met in person – a rather pretty one, he had to admit – was so easily offended.

"Better give me a shot. Or two. This," she pointed to the now empty elegant glass, "was nothing."

And it went on like this for long hours. Phil didn't talk to anyone all night except the increasingly talkative woman who was drinking alcohol like others eat sugar. As the numbness began to take control over her body and soul, she began to feel better and better, and she didn't understand why she hadn't done this before. It seemed much easier to forget about Jake and the problems, even the fact that she was very much in Duskwood, from where she would have to drive home.

All she could see was Phil and the liquids floating in the lights, more and more of which she was putting into herself than it was in the bottles. The glasses just piled up in front of her, Phil after a while watching her in concern, which easily faded as he listened to her words.

"Tell me," she tried to swallow, but her dry throat didn't let her, "is this place always like this?"

The man laughed and looked at the woman and the dancers behind her. "No, not at all. As a matter of fact, you're in luck today, because I don't often organize such fast-paced evenings. But I did it by popular demand, you actually just wandered into a guy's birthday party."

The realization crept into her brain so slowly it was ridiculous. She lowered her head to the counter in shame, muttering a line in annoyance until two warm hands lifted it up.

"Get your pretty head up from there ."

"I'm sorry, I–"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, I was already bored to death here. They aren't very talkative with the bartender. But you," he poked a finger at her forehead, Lyra going cross-eyed to see what's there that he needed to point it out, "you came and saved me, love."

"I'm not love," she grimaced, watching the fingers move away.

"Well, we can easily help with that."

She hummed and nodded, as if she understood anything from Phil's complicated words. She reached for another shot, the sips traveling down her throat more and more slowly. What time was it? She needs to go home.

"I'm now... going home now– okay?"

"You're not going yet, Lyra, stay a while."

"I'm not going? Now... why wouldn't I go?" She looked at the grinning man in confusion.

"Because I don't want you to yet."

The bartender again turned the woman's gaze towards him, which had been wandering towards the exit. He was out of the counter in a few long steps, plopped down on a chair next to Lyra, taking a sip of a drink. Lyra looked at him with interest, since he shouldn't be there now, he was standing somewhere else before. She found another glass in her hand, this time for unknown reasons. Without thinking, she chugged it, an unpleasant feeling running down the back of her neck, burning into her lungs. Then another one. She could barely swallow the honey-colored liquid, a new one was already there, like some kind of miraculous magic, recharging itself.

"Maybe I should some water–"

"Shush, we don't give that here."

Oh. So no water, okay. Okay. Okay?

She felt fingers on her own, but they were definitely not hers. One, two...six, nine, that's twelve, she counted the body parts to herself, the rising warmth that made the hair stand up even where it didn't touch. Eagerly, ever higher.

Phil stroked the flushed face, the touch seeming both soft and hungry, far from tender... Lyra stared down at the remaining brownish drink in her hands, debating whether to drink it, when she heard a deep voice so close to her it felt like it's coming from her very own body.

"You're such a lovely young lady, such a waste you come from so far away. We can't let you drive tonight, can we?"

"No..." she mumbled, because honestly, even that one word seemed hard to articulate properly. Intoxicated not just by the alcohol, but that something dusgustingly creeping through her body. She focused so hard on trying figure it out that she didn't even notice the screeching of her own chair. Something wrapped around her legs that hold her close, a feeling of warmness and strong, strong grip, and suddenly she had four legs. How the hell did she just get four of them? Where did they come from?

The fingers continued to map the skin incessantly, burrowing into the freshly washed hair at the base of her neck.

"Olive, am I right?" The voice hummed in her ear. Olive? That's not delicious.

Something sticky and moving traced itself along her jaw, and that was the last straw the drunk woman could take. The new legs around her were acceptable, but this new thing – a bug, fingers, lips? – on her face was too much. The chair creaked loudly on the floor and she nervously began to search for a way out through the heaving crowd. An arm grabbed hers, spun her around a few times, then let her go again, finding a better dance partner. Lyra, on the brink of an impending panic attack, stumbled on until she felt something solid and cool under her fingers. She pressed the doorknob hard, and she stumbled out of the bar, all tipsy and halfway unconscious.

She took a look at the parking lot, scanning the cars shrouded in darkness with the brown eyes, desperately searching for a grey one. She found it, then another, and then one more.

Okay, then we're not going by car.

In the cool night, where not even the Moon nor the stars decided to come for her help, Lyra ran and ran until her lungs collapsed inside her chest, heart pounding louder than the shoes against the gravel, and her legs felt like they might give out at any moment.

As if this was the way her body wanted to cleanse itself of the unpleasant alcohol, she felt tears on her burning cheeks, but she continued to jog. To where, she didn't know, but far away from there, to a place where there is no excess of people and alcohol, no intrusive touches, and no Phil Hawkins.

Even the rain poured down, pelting the ground with all its might. Maybe it also wanted to cleanse itself of some terrible, disgusting feeling? Or is this how it punishes those who cannot protect themselves from this?

"What did I do to deserve this?!" She shouted, staring up at the sky, her words lost in the night. She just stood and cried in the middle of the road, not a soul in sight to hear her obvious suffer from the pain she didn't ask for. She has no car, no dignity, Jake left her just like that, Richy ruined lives, she's a horrible person, and she's too drunk to walk to the side of the road to avoid being hit by a speeding driver.

Sobbing, she took out her phone and called the first person on the list.

"Hello? Lyra– why are you crying?"

She took a deep breath as she explained everything to Jessy. She drove to Duskwood because she's totally nuts, and there's no denying that. Also went to the Aurora, where she found herself uninvited at a guy's birthday party, and that made her feel even worse. She drank, talked, and her brother is a total jerk for whom she can't find a better adjective at the moment. It's too dark and raining and her whole life is crap.

"And I've got this bloody blouse on, and those extra two legs! Jessy, I don't want it on me!"

"Lyra, listen here," she tried to get the brunette's attention, feeling that this was not the right moment to discuss why she thinks she has four legs. "Look around and tell me what do you see, okay? A house, sign, bench, flowers, a car, do you see anything?"

Lyra sniffed and looked, but she couldn't make out much in the cloudy night. "Well, there's a nice house here, oh how I'd like to live in one like thaz! There are more next to it, and two black cars on the right side... I'll go see what else there is."

"No! Don't move from there, Lyra, do you hear me? Stay put. I'll be right there to get you, understand?"

Feet rooted to the ground, she was standing on the road, just blinking in the rain. It was pouring without wanting to stop.

"There's also a nice looking rose bush," she said suddenly. "Oh, there's more! Dark flowers, Jessy, they look like black flowers! Can you imagine such?"

For long moments, there was only shuffling on the other end of the line. Lyra checked several times to see if the line was broken, but she didn't understand much of the words, and the flickering screen was quite painful to look at.

"Wait, I see you! You're in front of my house!

And really. A woman stood in the window, waving at her. The movement seemed too fast for Lyra, dizzyingly fast. The figure suddenly disappeared and a warm light flooded from the front door, a woman in pajamas clutching an umbrella rushing towards her. Muttering desperate words, she ushered her in, and in no more than a few moments she was standing in a hallway dripping wet, as the tousled redhead rushed around her.

"You're drunk! What happened, Lyra?"

She didn't get an answer, but she didn't expect one either. Jessy dried her off and changed her into more comfortable clothes. While she spread the soaked clothes on the chairs, she pressed a glass of water into her hand, telling her to drink it until she returned. Lyra felt like a small child again, fearing the wrath of her strict mother and doing everything she was told.

Jessy soon returned and took the glasd from her with a satisfied nod and they sat down – Lyra collapsed – on the couch. The redhead wanted nothing more than to have her tell everything that happened to her, but given the her condition, she just pulled Lyra close and held her.

"I thought," she whispered by herself into her neck, "if I came here, maybe it would be better. But it didn't get better. I went into the bar, you know."

Jessy hummed in understanding, but she didn't stop, the words just kept rolling off her tongue.

"I drank one glass, then two, after the third I don't remember how much more, but I didn't even count. It was really bad, but for some reason I was still sipping the alcohol. Then... your brother... You know exactly what he's like..."

"I know," she placed a small kiss on the top of her head. "It's okay now."

"I'm constantly afraid and nervous," she looked up into the pair of brown eyes with her own tearful ones and she saw in them all the sadness in the world, including what Lyra hadn't said yet. "I miss him. I want Jake here, just this one thing. I want to know… I want to know everything so I can die peacefully."

"Oh Lyra," she held her close, which was almost impossible, since there was not an inch between them. "Don't be dramatic, you dolt."

"I'm going to die someday anyway."

"Yes, but not now. By then, Jake will reach out and the two of you will have reconciled nicely, all the truth will be revealed and there will be no more secrets."

"Do you seriously think so?" She looked up hopefully at the smiling face. She smiles so reassuringly…

"The most seriously."

And Jessy was often right. Not always, but when Lyra felt she was right, it usually was the case. And now she felt it. Two can't be wrong, can they?

That night, she ended up falling asleep in Jessy's arms. For the first time in seven months she felt safe, so she spent the next seven one there; most of the time with quiet nights, next to Jessy, in secret, knowing nothing about Jake.

Part three of this headcanon series

|| Part one, part two ||

• "What you looking at?" She smiled, setting the glass down, waterdrops running down around it. Jake shook his head in response, continuing to study every move of hers. Mc didn't mind; ever since they met, she learnt how to read him like he does with her. Without words and a lot of patience.

• Jake waited until the last spoon was clean too, then grabbed her hand, leading her out of the room.

• The symphony of night was played by a chorus of frogs and violin of crickets, the air fresh and crisp, full of the scent of the nearby lake. The street was quiet and peaceful as they walked in the dark.

• They didn't speak now either, but this silence told no story. Mc was forced to break it. "Let's go to the lake." She pointed in the right direction.

• They walked through the streets in silence, passing fewer and fewer houses. The symphony of the night grew stronger by the water, and the hissing trees and undergrowth joined in as well.

• Taking a seat on a nearby bench for a long moment, perhaps hours, minutes, years... they didn't know for how long.

• "Did you really mean it?" She asked, observing the surface of the water in front of her. "What you said in the morning." Her eyes darted over to the man, but he didn't move.

• Mc carefully slid closer on the bench until she felt his warmth on her skin. "Because when I'll say it, I mean it," she whispered. "I love you too."

• Kiss. That was all she remembered from that night, sitting on the bench by the lake, until her body began to cool down and his kisses could no longer provide enough warmth. Mesmerizing, intoxicating feeling of his lips against hers, closer than they have ever been, and she really didn't want it to end.

• She and Jake walked back to the hut, their fingers entwined all the way, and the woman wasn't the least bit concerned about what they will say to the others in the morning. Probably nothing; they will figure it out on their own anyway.