(Untitled)

[grabmyballs]

This is fucked up and make no mistake, but Cook's not gonna be the one complaining. There's worse things in life than waking up to find out your mad little island home has been transformed into a carnival. The rides aren't shit either, which goes a long way to ensuring that Cook spends the majority of the morning shouting and laughing his voice

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[behindtheskin]

Effy hasn't eaten all day. It's not a protest. It's not meant in an effort to curb a gnawing at her stomach, or further the shadow in either cheek. As far as life goes, these past several days have been fine, nothing out of the ordinary, a greater peace and lack of distraction than Effy's experienced in a long time. Tony is... well, Tony is still hurting, Effy knows that much, but it isn't a complete confusion that envelops him anymore so much as a shadow cast over the corners of his mind. He'll follow them, he'll cast light until everything suddenly becomes clear, and it's Effy responsibility to believe in that. But believing in Tony Stonem is something which comes easily to most people, and perhaps Effy most of all. She's there when he needs, but when he doesn't, these days it feels like the ice is firm enough under her feet for her to wander

[behindtheskin]

She freezes, falls weak when his arms wrap around her, all warmth and fire, and it settles her anger in an instant. A moment later, she wonders if it would have been better to let that remain. The last bastion of strength. She curls into herself, pressing her nose against Patto again, shakes her head to dispel the lies- as long as they don't settle, they won't count. As long as it's just a joke, a flippant word from a fleeting presence. As long as they're not allowed to remain and sear.

"Don't lie," she says, words weak after the lash, because having it be true right now isn't enough, and having it be true forever is too much. "Just don't, yeah? You see everyone, Cook. You were the only one who saw everyone."

"Standing outside the window."

[grabmyballs]

It's not a lie. Not really. He wants to shout it back at her because he's fucking sick and tired of this, having his love shoved back at him, rejected. Doesn't matter why, it fucking hurts. But he holds his tongue for once in his fucking life because she's right. Half right. That's not all that's there.

"You and him, Eff." There's a carnival going on around them, people screaming in waves as they speed around roller coaster corners, laughter and conversation, far enough away not to intrude on their private moment but there, seeping into the quiet spaces. His voice cracks and he hopes it's hidden in the sounds of life. "I just want the two of you. That's all I want to see."

He remembers rain and a cold night, getting soaked to the skin and even that didn't stop him. He remembers looking in on them, seeing the picture of happiness shatter into confusion. He wants to be on the inside of that picture again, with the people he loves. That's all.

[behindtheskin]

If there was a way to disentangle all of the threads, knotted and caught, Effy would. If there was a way to turn back the clock until she could have his gaze turn elsewhere, cast her eyes down, she would. She's not sure when she started growing weak. It wasn't just with Freddie, it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his love alone that finally tore down the fences built high and shadowing the twists, turns, footfalls inside. It all started with the boy in front of her, and her heart lurches again. If only he could be happy. If only he could find someone of his own. If only anyone in the world knew how to give torrents as he does now.

Always those two words, isn't it?

She slips her hand down, silently, until it clasps with his own. Leans up to press a kiss by his cheek, one that doesn't dare move until it's over, affectionate but contained. "Let's go," she suggests, and while her eyes may be heavy today, they're still burdened less for having him by her side, turning to watch another train hurtling past above them. "Let's go learn to fly."

[grabmyballs]

If there was a way to undo it all, he wouldn't let her. He would follow her, knowing it's all coming down on his head. The only changes he would make would be for her and Freddie, to save them both from whatever pain he could. To save himself by proxy.

But it's impossible, not worth thinking about. What matters is the here and now, the feel of her soft lips on his cheek, the fragile warmth of her body in his arms. What matters is where her head is at. He'll take a good day with arms wide open.

Cook weaves their fingers together and drops his lips to kiss her forehead. "Let's go," he says. "Front row seats for Cook and Effy."