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Me, You, & Coffee- That's all I need!
—
1.2k words
claire redfield x fem!reader
tropes: f/f , hurt / comfort , wlw , claire probably has depression or atleast anxiety , angst , fluff , fall fic , love , happy ending , suggested smut
note: hehe my first fic!!! so scary.... rb/likes are appriciated!!! huge thanks to @/vaaaaaiolet for proof reading this!
tags: @rigorwhoring @vaaaaaiolet @angelstargel
The cold air nips at your cheeks, giving them a red hue. Leaves blow around your feet, and the shout of the coffee shop bell rings as you leave. Your chai latte sits in your mouth as you treasure the flavor, deep in thought. Claire hasn’t joined you today or any time since you last got home. You can’t blame her.
After her mission a few weeks prior, she hasn’t been acting like herself.
You had come home to your girlfriend with a broken arm, not a scene you expected to return to. She had calmed your concerns yet never stopped working, only making an exception for sleep.
Now, as you gently knock on her office door, Claire mumbles a soft invitation. Her hair, the same color as her bloodshot eyes, was messy. She had been wearing the same red tank top for a week now. Her eyes never diverted from the screen or her bulletin board. You weren’t even sure she knew you were here. Should you call out her name again?
“I, uh, got your coffee for you, Babe.” You place a gentle hand on her back and kiss her head.
Your heart aches for her. Almost all her hair had fallen out of her ponytail. As you set down her coffee, she smiles and grabs your hand before pressing a soft kiss into the back. You smile at the tenderness before realizing she is continuing to do her dead, thousand-yard stare. As your smile faltered, you noticed small things that had changed in her appearance recently. Her freckled skin had gotten more pale, and her makeup looked old. These small details pushed you over the edge.
“Claire, are you okay?” You crouch to her side. She nods, humming quickly. “You… you look pretty zoned out.”
Claire keeps her distant look, the one you’ve become oh-so-accustomed to when she comes home from a grueling mission. Claire begins to divert her eyes from looking at the floor. When did she start looking there?
“Claire? Baby?”
She blinks. How long was she zoned out for? Claire pushes her hair back and wipes her palms on her black jeans, the soft denim brushing against her pale skin.
“Yes, sorry.” She blinks to register what happened in the minute she was zoned out, meeting your concerned look. “Sorry. One more time?” She quickly glances at her work before giving you her undivided attention, clearing her voice.
“I was just saying I got coffee for you,” you repeat with a nervous smile and tensed brows. The small sympathetic act was enough to bloom a smile on Claire’s face.
“Oh. Thanks, sweetheart.” She replies, a faint smile on her face.
You nod. You can tell that Claire noticed your concerned expression because she furrows her brows and fights off a scoff.
“You don’t have to be worried about me or anything like that,” she snaps.
“I’m just…” The words die in your throat.
The redhead knows her outburst was unneeded, a small guilty expression forming on her face. Lingering eyes make Claire have a migraine.
A sigh claws its way through your throat. “I’m gonna make lunch,” you manage to shove out, “If you want some.”
Claire nods awkwardly. “Okay.” She looks at you until you look away, then disappears into her work again.
Wobbling into your humble abode, expecting to see Claire waiting for you, you moaned in pain. The lack of your girlfriend proved you incorrect. You knew she had returned from her mission, but maybe she hadn’t? Fear flooded your body as you heard a noise from Claire’s study.
You pulled out your gun, opening the door to see your beloved girlfriend attempting to work with one hand in a cast.
Before you get the chance to say anything she groans and gets up, revealing herself to you.
“Hey, you’re home!” The redhead smiled, going to hug you as best as possible.
Her skin felt freezing! She had been wearing a tank top and underwear with the window open on a cold autumn night. You watch as guilt drains into her face.
You blinked at her red sling. “What happened to your arm, babe?”
A sigh came from her throat. “I, uh. Kinda got thrown into a wall.”
The color quickly drained from your face. “You what?” was the only thing you could mutter out.
“I’m fine now, don’t worry. It's just inconvenient.”
You bit your tongue. Your reflection appears in Claire’s red spectacles. Your nose is bruised and stained red from blood.
“Do you want to go take a bath? Or shower?” you prompt, both of your usual healing methods after missions.
Claire rubbed her eyes, clearly overworked. “No, it’s fine. I have some work to finish anyway. Maybe tomorrow?” Worry had bubbled into your chest.
You hadn’t given it much thought, to your dismay now. Dread had eaten you up. As you stare at Claire now, your throat closes up. Jerking awake, you immediately notice the cold bed.
You manage to get Claire out of the house with the promise of a:
“Coffee/Study Date?” She furrows her eyebrows.
“Yeah! It’ll be fun.” You chirp back.
The cold air nips at both yours and Claire’s cheeks, giving them a red hue. Leaves blow around your feet, and the shout of the coffee shop bell rings as you leave, connected by your shared scarf and tightly clasped hands.
The two of you sip on the costly coffee you had purchased to make her smile. There was a cartoon character on top drawn in creamer.
As Claire sips her coffee, the wind blows stronger, blowing cream onto her nose. She looks up at you with a sad expression before back down at her coffee. A small giggle expels from your lips at the sight. Claire glares at you.
“Don’t laugh. I spilled my coffee.” Claire whines, leaning into you and bunching up your scarf. “My latte art!” She frowns and complains jokingly. You know you’d buy her a new one in a heartbeat if she asked.
You coo and kiss her on the cheek for condolence, “You’ll survive.”
Claire laughs, This is the biggest (read: only) smile you’ve seen from her since you got back. She squeezes your hand softly three times. Warmth trickles into your chest, temporarily battling the cold outside. You hum tenderly.
You try to ignore her paranoia, constantly checking your surroundings and flinching.
Sniffling fills your ears and concern is etched onto your face. Her big, blue eyes look at you, beginning to water slightly. You grab her coffee and set it down on a bench nearby before engulfing her in your arms.
“Hey, hey,” your voice softens, “what's wrong, baby?”
Claire sniffles in response. She grabs onto you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.
You can’t find words. With precision and gentleness, you redirect the two of you to the bench with her coffee. Her voice trembles and breaks along with the facade of the strong, independent woman you know so well.
“‘M so, so sorry.” Claire sobs into your shoulder, tears dribbling down your scarf.
Your hand goes to her back to rub it softly. “You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. I need you to talk to me, though.”
“This mission was supposed to be easy. I just needed to build schools and hospitals. But then I discovered more and dug myself farther into this shitty hole I made. I feel like I dug myself into my own grave.” You listen and hold your girlfriend as she cries. “And then when I got home I just have this… this urge to finish it. And then I started to stop acting like myself and I ruined everything we had and I-”
You look at her, hot tears rolling down her ruby-red cheeks. “You didn’t ruin anything, baby. But I’m gonna need you to take a few deep breaths for me.” Your hand snakes its way up Claire’s frame to cup her face. Shaky breaths make themselves noticed. You ignore all the weird looks and flip people off.
Claire whispers, barely audible over the rustle of trees. “I’m sorry I haven’t been paying attention.”
“Don’t be. I knew you were going through something. It’s not an excuse, but I knew it was out of character. I’m not mad. As long as I have our coffee dates I'm fine.” Your calm, gentle voice and small giggle lull her into a reassured space.
“I’ll take you on a fancy date. Maybe give you some special dessert after.” Claire teases, and it is then you realize you are in for a long night.
However, it’s the first time in a long while that your bed is warm, and you know it will stay that way.
note: HAII!! if anyone has tips on formatting lmk cause this is the first time I've really done it! i mainly used ao3 before this. thank you for reading and again thank you SO much to vivi for proofreading:)
a good girl's guide to murder inspired re!au:) under cut. no spoilers tho!!
Leon stood in front of the house. The one everybody called Raccoon City’s personal haunted house. The short blond boy sat in front, nervously nibbling nervously at the blue pen in his mouth. The flutter of his notebook paper filled his ears. The quant suburban house lined with scattered bricks and glass shards reflected one of terror, inhumane crimes, and grief. Paint chipped text is displayed on the mailbox. The Redfields.
Pale fingers slid over the freezing metal fence. Everyone in Raccoon City’s radius knew the story. ‘Jill Valentine– 17-year-old girl murdered gruesomely by her boyfriend, Chris Redfield.’ the headlines read. But Leon knew this wasn’t true. Chris wasn’t a murderer. He was a kind older brother and friend, a loyal boyfriend, and one smart ass student. It just didn’t make sense. None of it.
For this year’s Raccoon City High-school Capstone Project, Leon had picked to re-investigate the death of Chris Redfield and the disappearance of Jill Valentine.
He had known Chris personally and knew of Claire, though he had not met her. She was three years behind her but dropped out before Leon could meet her.
Though, he doesn’t blame her. If he had these vulgar words and vague threats spraypainted on his wall, he would drop out too.
Leon’s soft steps echo against the concrete floor. He brings his hand up to knock against the heavy, brown door. He listened as his fist pressed against the wooden door, making a loud clunking sound.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
The shadow of the shattered window echoed Leon’s reflection back to him. The lock clicked and only a metal chain kept the door in place. Claire peeked from beyond the door, the two only separated by a metal chain.
“Can I help you?” Claire’s words snapped Leon out of lala land.
“H-hi.“ Leon answered, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat in an embarrassed manner. “Sorry, hi. Um… I‘m Leon. Leon Kennedy.” he nodded awkwardly.
“I know.” She responded simply, confused. “Do you need something?“ Her head tilted, silky auburn hair flowing with the small movement of her head. Claire’s eyes were careful ones, cautiously waiting for Leon to continue. “I‘m doing a project– for school– on what happened. You know. With Jill and–”
Claire huffed slightly, cutting the blond off. “And Chris?” She finished for him. “Why?”
Leon stared back at her. Four sentences in and he’s already messed up.
“I know it’s not my place, but I’m convinced he didn’t do it, and I’m gonna prove it.” He spoke, trying to ignore the laugh from Claire. “Trying to follow in your father’s footsteps, Kennedy?” she teased, a smirk lingering on her face. Leon stared back, an embarrassed smile and soft red tint on his face. “Maybe.” he shrugged, his smile turned into a grin and leaned against the door.
“So…?” Claire adjusted her posture, blue eyes staring back at Leon.
Leon perked up and cleared his throat. “Um, o..oh right.” Jesus Leon, you’re supposed to be trying to get her on your side, not scaring her away.
“Can I come back tomorrow? To interview you?” Leon smiled charismatically at Claire. She smiled softly, shaking her head slightly. “Yeah. Sure.” a soft laugh emitted out her mouth.
The eldest grinned. “Okay. Awesome.” he couldn’t draw his eyes away from her. “Tomorrow.”
Claire stared at him like she had something to say. “Uh...” she looked at him. “Leon.” he chirped.
“Yeah, Leon, you have blue ink all over your mouth.” she smiled before closing the door. Leon looked in the reflection, smiling like a fool and shaking his head.
Great going Leon.
fin.
this will probably never be finished as it was a Drabble i wrote in class last year but.... yeah! hope u all like it:)
not resident evil but a piece i worked hard on about me and my ex-friends. names are changed for privacy. not proofread. enjoy:)
(listen to simulation swarm by big thief while reading)
--
Eileen screams as she stands on top of the tree she has been attempting to climb. Ava shouts for Caroline.
“Callie! Where are you going?” she yanks on my shorts and flips me to look at her. “Where’s she going?” I grumble, getting down from the bench.
“Fuck if I know.” Layla shrugs while walking across the grass to the sewers. I stare at her. She can feel it. She turns around and stares back at me. I don’t care.
Caroline gets farther and farther. I steal Eileen’s Crocs and chase after her. My feet are sore from stepping on splinters an hour ago and my back burns with Sunburn. I can feel Callie’s taste lingering in my mouth. The buzz gives me enough breath to jog up on the hill.
I’m sure she saw me, I can’t feel anything but a small warmth in my cheeks and my panting.
Callie’s facing away from me when I get up to her. “Hey, June.” She said, her face is blank. Is she mad at me?
“Why’d…” I cough out something gross. “Why’d you leave?” Callie shrugs. She climbs onto the playground. “What are you doing?” I watch her softly. My eyes squint to meet hers.
She looks at me and takes all of me in. She was staring at me up and down. “Adventuring.” her gentle voice mumbles. I think about giving the ten dollars I promised to her.
If you make out with me right now, I’ll give you ten bucks.
Really?
Yeah.
I think about that moment while I follow her. I debated bringing it up. She's climbing down a net. I sit on the slide. My ankles are burning up.
“Give you five bucks if you kiss me.” I snicker.
“Shut up and give me my money.” Callie laughs.
As she descends, I slide down. At the bottom, I try to jump up and find my face landed on the wood chips. Caroline laughs this big, hearty laugh. I wish to play it on repeat.
“You alright?” She giggles while I pick myself up, trying not to be cut by the wood underneath my body. “Better than ever!” I exclaim, wiping myself off. When I look up, Callie has already bolted.
“You’re too bad of a kisser.” I finally responded to her previous statement.
She shrugs. “I’ve never kissed a girl,” Caroline admits.
I can change that. I think.
I don’t question or turn around. I follow her. “Where exactly are you going?” She ignores me and kicks the water from the surrounding sprinklers. I keep my distance.
She doesn’t look back. Callie is very hard to read. “Wherever the wind takes me.” I want to point out how cheesy that sounds. How silly and stupid it is. But I do not.
“Ah.” I nod. I kick some water and turn to my side as she jumps through puddles of water. I smile softly. I can feel the water filling Eileen’s Crocs.
Sorry. I think.
I kick some water at Caroline. She turns around by whipping her head. I giggle softly and run before she can kick water back at me. She keeps walking. I feel my stomach begin to cramp up and my feet prune up.
A sprinkler shoots at me. I stand under the water of two sprinklers and chase three of them. I smile despite how wet I am now. The black crocs crunch and squeak with every step I take. The sound annoys me, but not enough to make me take them off.
When I turn around, Caroline has left once again. “The wind took you to a Mormon church?” My voice speaks. I laugh and she smiles slightly. “I guess so.”
We walk in silence. I catch up to her and my body aches. I think about saying things. Callie’s voice snaps me out of my trance.
“I’m going to start running.” She warns me. “Alright.” I nod. I don’t know if I plan to run with her or wait until she slows down. My feet pick up their pace. I feel them subconsciously lifting and falling. I remove Eileen’s soaked crocs and chase after her. My lungs expand and the feeling gives me chills. I catch up to her and yank on the back of her shirt to stop her movements. Callie looks back at me with an unreadable face. I still cannot tell if she’s mad.
As we approach the hill I think. I wonder if Callie thinks the same thing I do. I think about Emma. Mainly how she consumes my every thought. Then I think about Callie and Amelia.
Caroline’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “They’re all in the sewer.” her small hand points.
“How romantic.” my voice trickles through my throat and out into the world.
My feet step on everything it is not supposed to as we make our way back down to our spot. I think the same repetitive thought that I wish I could remember. Callie runs down. I don’t follow as quickly as before. Eileen walks up to me. I smile at her, “They fit?” I point at my Converse that are two sizes too small. “I didn’t try them on.” She shrugged with a small grin.
Layla walks away with her bag. I watch as Callie’s face drops. There has to be something there. I don’t look into it. I have heard enough of the two of them complaining about each other.
I ask about the tree, and Eileen and Ava talk about it until they argue and smile at each other. I smile too. Callie diverted to be on her phone. I lay on the picnic bench. It digs into my skin.
I can hear everyone laughing as my cheeks warm.
fin.
notes: this happened a few months ago, if it's a little hard to follow it's because i didnt remember a whole lot.
this fic has such a special place in my heart, as it was my first of vivi’s fics and the first time i interacted with my most lovely mutual! sooo i decided to break this down a little and maybe add something of my own… mwahaha. anyways i did this instead of my english homework so enjoy.
ok! let's get into it! lots of yapping under the cut!
“maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.” this line was literally the reason i clicked on this lovely, lovely fanfiction.
“I’m not drunk. I’m just…” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.” Ah, there it is.
UGH THIS LINE. violet when i find you!!!!! ugh. your writing is so. fucking. lovely. it’s just a lovely line and actually has inspired a line in me, you and coffee!
Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell.
this is so very silly but i do this too… i don’t know if i just started doing it after reading this or if i just realized, but i was losing balance while dancing and did this. vivi how could you do this to me.
His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.
UGH. my heart. would absolutely kill for this. the way you write leon is just so. ugh. i don't even know! you’re insane.
Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.
this line is so stupid i love it so much. leon’s thought process is so human and sweet. i don’t know.
A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek. “I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.” You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes? Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell? “Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.” “You mean it?” “Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.” And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing.
ok i’m so sorry for copy and pasting a bunch of text but i am foaming at the mouth and sobbing just so horrifically. violet. vivi. violet with 5 a’s. vaaaaaiolet. you cannot do this to me. writing this one your period is insane because i was on mine and this made me cry so hard.
You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.” “So I am. Ow.”
UGH HE’S SO STUPID I LOVE HIM 😭😭.
Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure. But also something else. Something shiny. He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.
no one will ever understand how this little paragraph ruined yet healed me. like. ERGH. jesus fucking christ. i am waiting every day for a part 2 💔.
um ok! that's all for my little dissection. i’m just gonna make a little drabble because i need to or i may combust.
—
New years parties weren’t anything to write home about. It was fun to get drunk off of champagne and vodka soda. It was nice to stumble in heels too high to be intoxicated in.
You had snuck off with Leon, pulling off your do-up, having your makeup that you spent an hour on ruined, messing up your hair. Fireworks blared in the background as you pulled off his shirt and laid on whoever’s bed. The crumbled cotton sheets lay beneath your weight as you breath against his chest.
Moonlight shines through the window as both of your breaths slow. It wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. Gentle fingertips hover with a ghostly feel over Leon’s pecs, dragging to his abs. He looked down at you, meeting your eyes and sucking in a breath. His baby blues looked at you like he saw his entire universe in them.
“You’re gorgeous.” His bass, silver voice turned soft. The two of you bask in the warmth of your love. “You must be drunker than you think.” A gentle chuckle emerged from your throat. Leon shook his head, looking slightly offended. He sighed, raking a hand through your hair.
His free hand clasped into yours. Fireworks boomed far away and people began to cheer at the TV. “Any resolutions this year?” your low mumble filled the silence of the room. Leon hummed lowly.
“Mm.” He sighed. “Wanna settle down. Start getting life in order.” A rough, calloused hand rakes through his blonde locs. A drunken giggle made his cheeks grow warm as he laughed with you. “It’s true!” He emphasized.
Pink ran across both of your faces as grins plastered onto your mouths. “I think that may be mine too.” You agree. Leon sucks in a breath. People start counting down from thirty. “Good.” He got up to grab his pants and dug through his pockets.
10.
“Le? What are you doing?”
9
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while. Whether I knew it or not.” Leon smiled, grabbing something and leaning on one knee.
8
“Oh my god.” you whisper in disbelief.
7
“I think you know what I’m getting at here.” Leon cleared his throat and opened the box. A ring shone inside of it.
6
“Oh my god!” you sit up.
5
“Is.. that a yes?” His boyish grin widened as used a hand to scratch his neck
4
“Yes!” Leon jumped up to hold you.
3
“I can’t believe this. I’m going to cry.” Soft tears drip from your eyes with a soft beam.
2
“I love you so, so much.” His husky voice whispered.
1
“I love you more.” You reassure before connecting your lips
0
Happy New Year.
It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.
f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!
word count: 898 // read on ao3
a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match
this fic belongs to sketches for my sweetheart the drunk, a collection of bite-sized fics to stretch out my writing muscles :) i hope you enjoy!
“No, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.”
If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment.
“I can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.”
“You did, sweetheart, “ Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, “and I know you can take them off fine, but you weren’t drunk when you bought them, were you?”
“I’m not drunk. I’m just...” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.”
Ah, there it is.
Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels.
There’s not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parents’ house. You haven’t quite put together yet why he’s so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gotham’s urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.
The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:
Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell. Like you’re trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he can’t have that just yet.
Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that you’re about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best he’s ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday).
Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land.
But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when you’ve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight.
And tonight, you’d had too much fun at Claire’s Christmas dinner.
It takes a little longer than usual for Leon’s icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. “The mulled wine was that good, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.
He gets a hmph! in response.
“You look beautiful. You always do, it’s just…could we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the ground’s not frozen over?”
The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treaty’s gone south. “But Leon, they’re my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.”
Oh, he knows.
“That’s why they’re Christmas heels,” you point out.
Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.
“It’s not Christmas if I don’t wear them,” you mumble.
You don’t sound so sure of yourself.
Leon’s plea deal might be back on the table.
His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.
“I lied.”
“These aren’t your Christmas heels?”
A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek.
“I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.”
You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?
Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell?
“Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.”
“You mean it?”
“Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.”
And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing.
“Let’s get you inside.” Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d have gotten up too if he hadn’t suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.
You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.”
“So I am. Ow.”
You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.
But also something else. Something shiny.
He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.
click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!
comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
Juno's Masterlist
Resident Evil:
Full Pieces
Drabble
Other:
Full Piece
Resident Evil Pieces
Claire Redfield:
Me, You, and Coffee- That's All I Need! (ID!Claire Redfield x Reader, Hurt/Comfort)
Ashley Graham:
Nothing! Check back soon!
Resident Evil Drabbles
Cleon:
A Good Boy's Guide to Murder. (Leon x Claire, AGGGTM!AU)
Leon:
A Cinderella Of His Own [Analysis]. (Leon x Reader. Fluff.)
Full Pieces
Other:
Simulation Swarm. (RPF, based on real events, fluff?)
adam is alive au but lawrence hid the fact he's an apprentice for this reason
i'm such a freak so drabble under the cut 👍
you could say they were dating or wont but it's still the same. lawrence has hid it for months, maybe even years.
when adam eventually figures out and all hell breaks loose.
"so what? you try to play his games on me too? make me think you're my savior? you really were behind it all this time. you shot me, left me to bled out, and left me for days just for your game? and it didn't even work! does diana know? does allison? you gonna test me again?"
he would probably storm out and just walk around aimlessly before realizing he's literally nothing without lawrence after the trap. (he's alive and nothing).
lawrence would 100% go find him and adam would go back "just because i need somewhere to stay" (he missed him).
adam wouldn't trust him for a while, reasonably so. he had put his entire life in lawrence, for gods sake.
he would come around eventually, but it would take lots of trust rebuilding and a long, long while.
do i think adam would become an apprentice? fuck no. but as long as lawrence was safe and adam wasn't a part of it, i think after a while it would go back to normal-ish.
bonus angst (ooc) points: lawrence exploiting adam's photography for jigsaw without him knowing
i don't agree with adam stanheight becoming an apprentice, I think he'd have a lot of hatred towards kramer and have a lot of trauma from the trap so anything jigsaw related would really piss him off. also if he found out lawrence was an apprentice he'd cut him off immediately and be super upset
"No matter how many times Lawrence reassured Adam he would come back, Adam knew he wouldn’t. Lawrence seemed to know this too, despite the looming denial in his gut. He felt the need to make it up to the man. Maybe that's why Lawrence Gordon is letting this man, who he just shot, kiss him like he’s the air around him."
I just woke up from a dream where I wrote chain shipping fan fiction and this is all I remember
listen to 'this night has opened my eyes' by the smiths while reading!
adam's medical analysis from a teenager who has no idea what he's doing but has internet access >_<.
why does no one talk about adam's injuries after the bathroom trap?
obviously his shoulders messed up, yeah, but what else? well in this hypothetical we'll assume that instead of amanda coming to kill adam it's larry coming to save him. it's estimated that this was three(?) days after the bathroom trap.
realistically he would be incredibly malnourished and would die from dehydration unless he drank the water from the bathtub/toilet (let's say he did in this au) which would cause him diseases such as sepsis, cholera, e. coli, the such. and if any one of you goes “well! he could have eaten zepp!” i’m not even entertaining that. obviously, sure, he could have, but for my own sake let's say he didn’t. sorry guys i’m not that committed
another reason i don’t think he would eat zepp is because he was barely alive when mandy killed him. his fight or flight kicked in and thats why he went so hard. this motherfucker got electrocuted several times after he was shot. he almost immediately gave up on moving unless necessary.
his ankle would probably be rubbed raw and sprained. i couldn't find a lot of information about ankle shackling and what it does… so… i’m just guessing at this point. not to mention the fact they’re both barefoot? adam probably stepped on the glass he threw several times. you can hear glass crunching under mandy’s boot in saw three. that's how loud it is.
he would probably need physical therapy. not as much for his leg as larry, but definitely some.
back to his shoulder: assuming he didnt die of shock. adam still has his overshirt from the beginning of the movie. he could have taken advice from lawrence and put that onto his shoulder and stopped his bleeding. but since he didn’t, let’s assume the best solution is losing mobility in his right shoulder/arm.
adam’s immune system would also be incredibly shit after this. he’d probably be feverish, delusional, etc. when we saw mandy killing adam he looked like he was having delusions.
when adam is killed by mandy he starts coughing up blood (given this was after he hit his head) but we can also argue that this is another side effect? of what, you may be wondering. idfk some problems. maybe electrocution!
again with the malnourishment i feel like it would be hard for him to eat after this because like.. he’d get sick a lot… i guess…
tldr: adam would be malnourished and unable to eat for a while, his ankle would be sprained and rubbed raw, defo has an infection, no immune system, little to no function in right arm, feet would also get very cut up.
---
now, his canon death. let's talk about it, shall we? he got his head bashed in and suffocated. the man threw up his own blood. three things that definitely cause death! i think this is the order it happened since no one can decide. concussion, throws up own blood, chokes on it, since he can’t breath to begin with, he dies from asphyxiation. if we follow matpat’s theory that he faked his death, we can argue back that even if he somehow survived that he would almost 100% die from his concussion or choking on his own sick.
tldr: adam is dead :(
---
also adam wears combat boots. this isn’t important by any means. i just wanted to point it out. and his boxers look hella cool. They’re just polka dots but i like them lots.
anyways guys like and follow for a part two feel free to tell me to add things in reblogs/comments and i will share my opinion. Remember i am not a doctor i’m just a teenager with webmd and a dad who said it was pretty accurate! if ur shot go to the hospital trust. umm yeah:3
things i've remembered i was going to add:
-attachment issues. if he sees lawrence again and they get close(r) (especially in the hospital) he would never let that motherfucker go. if you call it a traumabond or true love, either work.
-he was probably seizing. there's such a strong possibility he would have bit his tongue off or some shit, idk I've never had a seizure so I'm not 100% sure what happens...
YEAH anyways
listen to 'this night has opened my eyes' by the smiths while reading!
adam's medical analysis from a teenager who has no idea what he's doing but has internet access >_<.
why does no one talk about adam's injuries after the bathroom trap?
obviously his shoulders messed up, yeah, but what else? well in this hypothetical we'll assume that instead of amanda coming to kill adam it's larry coming to save him. it's estimated that this was three(?) days after the bathroom trap.
realistically he would be incredibly malnourished and would die from dehydration unless he drank the water from the bathtub/toilet (let's say he did in this au) which would cause him diseases such as sepsis, cholera, e. coli, the such. and if any one of you goes “well! he could have eaten zepp!” i’m not even entertaining that. obviously, sure, he could have, but for my own sake let's say he didn’t. sorry guys i’m not that committed
another reason i don’t think he would eat zepp is because he was barely alive when mandy killed him. his fight or flight kicked in and thats why he went so hard. this motherfucker got electrocuted several times after he was shot. he almost immediately gave up on moving unless necessary.
his ankle would probably be rubbed raw and sprained. i couldn't find a lot of information about ankle shackling and what it does… so… i’m just guessing at this point. not to mention the fact they’re both barefoot? adam probably stepped on the glass he threw several times. you can hear glass crunching under mandy’s boot in saw three. that's how loud it is.
he would probably need physical therapy. not as much for his leg as larry, but definitely some.
back to his shoulder: assuming he didnt die of shock. adam still has his overshirt from the beginning of the movie. he could have taken advice from lawrence and put that onto his shoulder and stopped his bleeding. but since he didn’t, let’s assume the best solution is losing mobility in his right shoulder/arm.
adam’s immune system would also be incredibly shit after this. he’d probably be feverish, delusional, etc. when we saw mandy killing adam he looked like he was having delusions.
when adam is killed by mandy he starts coughing up blood (given this was after he hit his head) but we can also argue that this is another side effect? of what, you may be wondering. idfk some problems. maybe electrocution!
again with the malnourishment i feel like it would be hard for him to eat after this because like.. he’d get sick a lot… i guess…
tldr: adam would be malnourished and unable to eat for a while, his ankle would be sprained and rubbed raw, defo has an infection, no immune system, little to no function in right arm, feet would also get very cut up.
---
now, his canon death. let's talk about it, shall we? he got his head bashed in and suffocated. the man threw up his own blood. three things that definitely cause death! i think this is the order it happened since no one can decide. concussion, throws up own blood, chokes on it, since he can’t breath to begin with, he dies from asphyxiation. if we follow matpat’s theory that he faked his death, we can argue back that even if he somehow survived that he would almost 100% die from his concussion or choking on his own sick.
tldr: adam is dead :(
---
also adam wears combat boots. this isn’t important by any means. i just wanted to point it out. and his boxers look hella cool. They’re just polka dots but i like them lots.
anyways guys like and follow for a part two feel free to tell me to add things in reblogs/comments and i will share my opinion. Remember i am not a doctor i’m just a teenager with webmd and a dad who said it was pretty accurate! if ur shot go to the hospital trust. umm yeah:3
small Lawrence nightmare under the cut that I'm gonna add into a bigger piece:) enjoy!
When Lawrence opens his eyes, Adam's decayed face floods his view. He's not stupid. It's been two months, he wouldn't look this *dead*. His jaw is eaten away and his body is pale. Adam's skin like the moonlight reflected off his window.
Lawrence squeezes his eyes closed. When he decides it's been long enough, he unclenches his body. His eyes slowly open. Adam his laying on his side, and his hand is propping up his head.
The older man desperately tries to cool the warm, tingling feeling that Adam's shit eating smirk is causing him.
"Hey, doc." His voice pierces Lawrence's ears. Adam's voice to Lawrence is like a whistle to dogs or the wind humans used to hear. Lawrence feels his throat desperately constrict as he begs it to swallow his shame. "Adam. It's far too late for this."
He's still not sure if the Adam that's in his nightmares is the one haunting him, but he tolerates them both, so why fuss?
Adam stays silent, simply observing Lawrence and seemingly admiring the empty pit he leaves in Lawrence's stomach. His smirk transformed into a softer, more playfully smirk. "Sick of me already? Jeez, Lar, no wonder you left me."
A sour taste fills Lawrence's mouth. "Don't call me that." The man said sternly, trying to hide the meek shame in his voice, and like that, emptiness consumed Lawrence as Adam deteriorated into dust that covered his cold bedsheets.
Fin.
repost of my chainshipping fluff since it got two likes </3 (watch me add 17 million tags) slow-burn fluffy lovey cute shit under the cut!
Through coastal towns, and coffee shops, bustling cities, and grungy motels, Adam and Lawrence found a home. They had grown so used to spending painful nights stuck in the hospital, their skin flushed as they grew closer.
Adam suspects it's Lawrence's guilt. His need to stay with Adam to make up for leaving him. That if he leaves, so will Adam.
While yes, that's a big part of it, Lawrence also finds comfort in the bubbling sensation of his lower gut. The warmth and Adam's furrowed brow, in his swear filled sentences, in his puffs of cigarette smoke. When they were originally in the hospital, Adam wouldn't leave him for a second.
(Lawrence for sure he wouldn't ever live down the confused glare Allison gave him when she entered their shared room to see Adam curled into Lawrence's side, fast asleep.)
But now Lawrence finds himself chasing Adam wherever he goes.
When they both thought it was too much to stay. They piled into the shared car and drove.
Beaches were hard for Lawrence with his leg, grungy motels bothered Adam's shoulder, but despite it, they found comfort in each other's presence.
In slow sleep-ridden breaths. In gentle whispered words. In strokes and hair in circles drawn on backs.
They found ways to make up their love for each other. Adam using gentle hands to hold up the other, while he placed his knub into the plastic prosthetic. Lawrence when he uses precise hands to care for Adam's wound.
Slowly but surely, they found also home in eachother.
i proudly present the whannell family tree!!!!
IN ORDER OF AGE: (stars mark if they're twins/triplets)
-Clement (The Pardon)
-Doug (Cooties)*
-Steven/Specs (Insidious)*
-Matt (Keep Watching)
-Axel (The Matrix)
-Larry (The Bye Bye Man)
-Spink (Death Sentence)
-Gavin (The Mule)
-Neil (Doggie Heaven)
-David (Crush)
-Matt (Dying Breed)**
-David (Saw 0.5)**
-Adam (Saw)**
Specs definitely had to raise them because Clement was studying like 24/7 to be a lawyer and Doug is.... Doug. Yeah. If I forgot anyone don't tell me because there's already 13 of them. Can't believe they're all gay and/or trans!
when people write about adam being brothers with specs and david can we PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE add Doug Davis from Cooties? I think he’d be the best addition to those brother fics and i would lose my mind
give a boy a beach and watch him fall in love
my daily contribution to the saw fandom
single dad adam! who couldn't afford most of his personal groceries because he bought diana pokémon cards when he went to the store with her
single dad adam! who calls his mom for the first time in ten years to ask about periods so he can help diana
single dad adam! who sleeps on a pullout couch so diana can have a bed
single dad adam! who skipped eating dinner every day for months so he could afford to take her on vacation
single dad adam! who wasted tons of film taking photos of flowers and animals and anything else she loved
i love them so much
uh so i'm in speech and debate and for my event i write. so. here's something i wrote a bit ago, i like it. it's not saw or resident evil related but i wrote it. so um yeah
I don’t draw because I fear someone will tell me how ugly it is. I add more and try to forget how disgruntled it truly is, I end up making it worse.
I have grown up in a warzone with two dictators who want to end me as much as they want to end each other. Peeking around corners as their army increases and begging for a ceasefire when the clock strikes ten.
The more details I add in the background, the easier it gets for them to pierce together new machines. I add the way my stomach turned as her brow furrowed deep into me.
As my scribbles become detailed jumbled messes, they see the truth. It becomes chaotic and before I know it, my hand is mindlessly staining the page with ink covering up the art piece I just diligently crafted. I suppose it’s all I’ve ever known. Wake up, fight, cry, sleep, forget, wake up, fight, cry, sleep, forget, wake up. The cycle continues.
Wake up!
On days where it’s bad I paint my sister’s tears with my own. I stroke my pencil against my notebook as I stroke my hand against her hair.
I resent the days I look in the mirror and all I see is their behavior pierced into a resentful teenager. I know that the others who look upon me see it too.
Despite myself, I envy the girls who draw effortlessly. Never lifting their eraser to get rid of messy strokes.
No matter what I change my medium to, there is no change. My keyboard, defective from how many times my backspace button has been abused, my notebook’s lack of paper from broken lyrics stitched together, a guitar with strings so rough my fingers can no longer feel the scars.
I try to pick up what they threw away in hopes it would work for me only to be met with disappointment. Instruments and clubs and studies and trying to be good at something, anything.
I pick up praying and working out and finding my inner calm.
I pray that I will change, I work out so I no longer look like them, I find my inner calm to battle against the rage that has settled in my stomach like a warm glass of milk. Milk I should have drank instead of the screams of my protectors. Tucking in my sister at nine when I should have stories being read to me. Stories about unicorns and princesses, not how my mother was raised wrong and that's why she doesn't know the difference between how to treat her husband and her babygirl.
I wait for the day that something other than anger comes so easily to me. Something other than screaming to fill my throat.
When people ask what I’m drawing I find an answer in the middle. I don’t tell them that the reference of my side profile was a picture of my mom, back when she took up painting.
I just tell them it was inspired by a painting that's been in my family lineage for generations, and I laugh as I tell them I hope it’s never passed down again.
i don't smoke (except for when i'm missing you.)
--
1.7k words
adam faulkner-stanheight x lawrence gordon
tropes: m/m, hurt / no comfort, mlm, ghost!adam faulkner-stanheight, slight headcanons, trans!adam faulkner-stanheight, slowburn(?), they're in love they just don't realize it, no happy ending, angst, religious mention once, chainshipping, suggested divorce between ali and larry, lawrence is an apprentice, canon timeline, not betaread we die like adam faulkner-stanheight
note: the title is a reference to the song i don't smoke by mitski! uh yeah! please enjoy:). posted on my ao3.
tags: @mychem1calbr0mance , @st4rcryptid
Every night had the same premise. Lawrence goes to sleep, dreams about Adam, and wakes up.
Tonight is no different. Lawrence is sawing his leg off, but it never comes off. He’s just pressing the blade against his leg and sawing. When he blinks, he has a gun pointed to Adam. Lawrence tries to stop himself from firing it, as if it would change what really happened. But it doesn’t. He puts seven rounds into Adam this time.
Adam looks so young. So painfully young. Because he was. The most youthful he had ever looked. Larry thinks about how that was the youngest and oldest he’ll ever look. And Lawrence took that away from him. Took him away from his parents, his friends, his siblings (if he had any). He murdered Adam. Shot and left him to rot. Took away his life. And now he’s gone. Because of Lawrence. He looked petrified.
He blinks one more time and Adam is bashing in his skull instead of Zepp’s. He looked even younger, even more afraid. and with that, he jerks awake.
His temples are near-exploding and his sheets are soaked. Lawrence’s chair is just far enough it’s painful to grab it and as he collapses in it, his will to shower is now gone.
A ghost dripping blood blurs his way into Lawrence’s vision. A gnawing feeling of guilt curls itself into the blond’s gut. It bubbles and hardens into a deeper feeling similar to rage. At himself, at Adam, whoever his mind can reminisce of. Somehow, Adam dissipating into a soft smoke makes Lawrence’s grief worse.
Lawrence tries to convince himself that Diana is sleeping in her room across the hall, to fill the lonely empty inside of him. It doesn’t work. He knows that Diana is at Alison’s with her new boyfriend. He knows it’s just him. Alone with the ghost of his most guilt ridden victim following him.
The shower dulls the ache in his head and the warmth consuming him like the fires of Hell themself. His foot aches, despite the fact it’s alone, rotting in a bathroom with the decaying corpse of Adam. John hadn’t told Lawrence to come in, so he has all day to pity himself.
His hair drips water down his back that makes him shiver. He can feel Adam’s presence (or the lack thereof) in the room with him. Lawrence wants nothing more than to call out. To scream at him. He closes his laptop and shoves his work to the side.
An empty balcony clouded with smoke is Lawrence’s favorite place as of recent. The sting of cigarette smoke reminds him of the irony of his job. The irony of it all. He’s a cancer doctor, who’s smoking. He’s a doctor who saves people, yet couldn’t save the one person that mattered most. He’s supposed to save people, yet he kills them in his freetime.
“Larry.” Adam chirps out. He’s smiling. “Thought you didn’t smoke?”
Lawrence’s face pulls into a mix of annoyance and longing. He sighs deeply before thinking of a response. “I didn’t. And then I did. Simple as that.”
Adam seems to take this answer before the corners of his lips quirk up once again. “You’re kinda pathetic, y’know?” He smirked like the Joker himself possessed Adam’s facial muscles. “I mean, really Lawrence. Smoking for someone you knew for six hours before you killed him? You didn’t even know me.”
“Exactly. I didn’t know you. Nobody knows you. You told me you were alive and nothing, and you were right.” Lawrence had to pause when he felt bile creep up his throat. “That’s why I feel guilty.”
That reasoning shuts Adam up quickly. Lawrence swears he heard the boy mumble a soft apology before sitting down. “I don’t blame you. I know that… Everything that happened was for a reason. I know that. I know that whatever happened to me was for the better.” He started. “I would have done the same in a heartbeat. I wish someone would have done that for me.” Adam chuckled, but it sounded more sad and pathetic than happy. Then again, everything Adam did was sad and pathetic. John was right.
The younger sits down and looks over at Lawrence. “Are you actually a ghost or did I make you up?” The blonde whispers. It was supposed to be to Adam, but came out like he was talking to no one in particular, and maybe he was. Adam hums in response. “I’m whatever you want me to be, handsome.” He winked. The older man clearly was not thrilled with this response. Adam could tell. He made a noise adjacent to clearing his throat. “Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that I’m not mad at you. Y’know, just… don’t leave me alone wondering where you are.” Adam said softer now. His smirk had melted into a soft and genuine smile.
Lawrence didn’t like how it tugged at him. He rubbed his eyes and put out the cigarette he was smoking, before staring blankly over the balcony as he nodded at Adam’s previous comment.
Paperwork was boring, and that’s all Lawrence could really do except for sleep. So he slept.
When Lawrence opens his eyes, Adam's decayed face floods his view. He's not stupid. It's been two months, he wouldn't look this dead. His jaw is eaten away and his body is pale. Adam's skin like the moonlight reflected off his window.
Lawrence squeezes his eyes closed. When he decides it's been long enough, he unclenches his body. His eyes slowly open. Adam is laying on his side, and his hand is propping up his head.
The older man desperately tries to cool the warm, tingling feeling that Adam's shit eating smirk is causing him.
"Hey, doc." His whiny voice pierces Lawrence's ears. Adam's voice to Lawrence is like a whistle to dogs or the wind humans used to hear. Lawrence feels his throat desperately constrict as he begs it to swallow his shame. "Adam. It's far too late for this."
He's still not sure if the Adam that's in his nightmares is the one haunting him, but he tolerates them both, so why fuss?
Adam stays silent, simply observing Lawrence and seemingly admiring the empty pit he leaves in Lawrence's stomach. His smirk transformed into a softer, more playfully smirk. "Sick of me already? Jeez, Lar, no wonder you left me."
A sour taste other than smoke fills Lawrence's mouth. "Don't call me that." The man said sternly, trying to hide the meek shame in his voice. Lawrence let out a breath he was holding. Talking to each other felt like walking on eggshells. Or landmines.
Looking over at Lawrence, the shorter stays unmoving. Just taking slow and deep breaths. He blinks. Adam is gone, the only remnant being a dent in Lawrence’s pillow, and the faint reminisce of a “sorry” on Larry’s lips.
Remembering Adam is cold. Touching (or the lack thereof) the ghost of Adam is colder. Lawrence is currently hugging the air, gripping it like a vice. His arms are loosely hung around Adam’s neck, and his nose is digging into his collarbone.
This is extra humiliating, because Lawrence is hovering over the air because he can’t touch Adam without his skin ripping through his hands and into the air he breathes.
Adam’s shirt is cotton. It’s soft and wet and soaked in blood. Lawrence tries to grip it but he watches as his wounded shoulder puffs into gas before resolving back. This makes the blond feel worse.
Ugly sobs rip painfully through Lawrence’s throat as it tries to close to ward off the whines and cries. He cries until he thinks he might throw up and some more after that.
He resists the urge to slam his fist desperately into a wall until his knuckles are shreds of skin and muscle. As he clenches his fist where Adam’s hair would be, the ghost whispers shushes to him. Promising he isn’t angry anymore, that Lawrence shouldn’t be either. Lawrence swears up and down he feels ghostly hands sliding up and down his back. The eldest gasps harshly for air.
Lawrence can’t remember the last time he’s cried like this, surely before Diana was born. Maybe even before Alison and him met.
“You’re fine, Lawrence, Jesus Christ!” Adam whispers, unsure of what to do. “Just take a deep breath… let it all out. I can take it… I can take it. I can take your anger, I’ll keep it safe inside me.” If Lawrence knew any better, he would think Adam was speaking gibberish. However, at that moment, Lawrence listened, leaning against Adam and wailing. He wasn’t even sure why. He drove his fist into Adam, even though he couldn’t feel it.
“Yeah, that’s it. If you need to be mean, you can be mean to me. Just lean on me as you break my heart.” Adam said softly, listening as the other tried to mumble stupidly about how he was fine. “Oh, don’t fucking bullshit me. If you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying and punching a ghost.” He scoffed to which Lawrence scoffed too.
The doctor didn’t have the strength to fight back, so he just let himself weep against Adam.
“I want to know more about you, Adam.” Lawrence said, scribbling his signature on various pieces of paper. The brunet perked up.
“What do you want to know?” He smiled up at Lawrence. “Anything.” The eldest whispered.
Adam looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I grew up catholic. I dropped out of highschool. I wanted to be a vet. I took up photography because it was the only thing my brothers weren’t doing. Oh, yeah, I have twelve brothers, I’m the youngest. I overdosed on depression medicine when I was nine. My nose bleeds randomly. I can’t really sleep. I’ve always wanted to fall in love.” Adam listed random items about himself.
Lawrence hums in response. He tries to get choked up. “What about you?” Adam asks.
“I also grew up catholic. I wanted to be in the army growing up. I tried to take my life at 19.” The silence after that was tense enough from Lawrence to make the quiet awkward and calm enough from Adam to make it nice. Lawrence thought before responding again. “And, I’ve also always wanted to fall in love.”
note: rb & comments are always appriciated 💛