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[byanyname]

***

either leave a message (or set of muses) for one of my assholes, or request a message from one of them. choose messages from the classic source, from your own skull, or whatever you may please.

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[thatminx]

[ The important question isn't what she would do if he cut his hair. The important question, she thinks, and which deserves her full attention, is what he did to deserve her.

It's crucial. It's important to say the rote words, people don't earn other people, being in a good relationship, a healthy relationship with a good person, isn't about being deserving. Because people aren't rewards.

But that's really not what he's asking, is it? What he's asking is why the universe finally cut him a break. What kind of karmic balance finally happened, that he should be with someone who curls close and whispers sweet everythings to him instead of clawing him, making him sleep on the floor, instead of being a joke on the internet, because everything he's ever known has been so bleak and harsh. Because he's been such a dick, because his life hasn't been kind, and yet, he still managed to luck out.

To end up with one (two, counting Wallace) really good thing going for him, and she's going to move heaven and hell to make his life better.

He's asking how this happened. He probably wasn't paying much attention before she came waltzing onto that plane.

Katrina shifts, strokes a tender hand over his hair, down the back of his head. And softly, she starts to talk. She lets the words come, soft and sad and loving. ]

You told me I didn't know pre-Katrina Treavor very well. You never got to know pre-Treavor Katrina. I was a mess, Fish. I wasn't nice, okay? I did things I'm not really proud of, things that don't get to be funny stories later, like breaking a doorknob or sneaking into someone's house.

[ Things like spitefully fucking Waverly Boyle's fiancee. Things like spitefully fucking a lot of Brom's friends. Or strangers from bars, picked up on lonely nights when Brom wasn't taking her calls, or when she wasn't taking his. Things like dating men, hot and heavy and full of promise, and then deciding she was bored and not even giving them the courtesy of a ghosting: flat-out telling them she was bored. It wasn't working out. It's not me, it's you.

Symptoms of a heart not-quite-broken.

Things like keeping the various aspects of her life separate, not telling her friends about her boyfriends, not telling her parents about her writing, not inviting anyone to her apartment. Not telling Brom much of anything. Folders in her phone easily deleted and not so easily forgotten.

Symptoms of a broken spirit.

It's no excuse, though.

Her breath draws in ragged through a smile. ]

But then you happened. You found out who I really am, and you made space for me. You make me feel wanted and special. Both you and Wallace. I woke up yesterday and you guys were both here, and we were holding on to each other - and it wasn't weird, you know? I felt like I was home. I've never felt at home, or like - everything was totally right in the world. And I've never been loved like this. No one makes me feel the way you do.

[ She's careful. Her touch is careful, fingertips following his jaw, tracing the curve of his mouth as though she can learn him by touch alone. ]

If you cut your hair, I'd still love you in a way that I didn't think was possible before I walked onto that plane. I'd wake up every day and see Wallace there, and you here with your stupid short hair and think I'm the lucky one. I'd still think you were the most beautiful man I've ever known, and I'd still thank god you're my husband.