Hello! My name's Jerie, and I am a ship whore. I have lost control of my life ever since I read CP Coulter's Dalton. And this is basically just a dump site for all the word vomit and flailing caused by that fic.
Disclaimer: All the characters in my stories are owned by CP Coulter, unless stated otherwise. Also, this is simply a side blog. I can't follow anyone on here.
If I find out that you ship Mine, I will automatically want to get to know you, and hug you, and take your hand so we can go off and cry over our beautiful, tragic ship together.
MICAH/JUDE like non-romantic also Mine and then maybe more MINE DID I MENTION MINEMicah returns to Ohio for the first time in months that summer, but it doesn’t take him long to find his destination. Everything does feel like a distant memory to him now, but he thinks it’s also like riding a bike, and old habits are relatively easy to fall back to.
He walks over then, and drops to his knees, unfazed by all the dirt that suddenly clings onto his faded jeans.
“Hi Jude,” Micah murmurs softly, as he reaches out to brush his fingers against the white marble headstone. “I’ve missed you.”
When Micah was younger, he believed that love was all about afternoon dates in the library and entwining your fingers loosely together where no one else could see. He believed that it comprised of passionate kisses shared in the middle of the night, and clumsily waltzing around in an empty auditorium with no music.
“One, two, step,” Shane repeats encouragingly, his eyes crinkling as he breaks into a large grin. “See? You’ve got it!”
Micah lets out a hearty laugh. He then leans down to place a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead, as his feet continue to glide almost effortlessly across the wooden stage.
The hardest part about growing up, he thinks, is realizing that love is not as simple as we so naively thought it would be. Because sometimes love is pictures torn apart and put back together too many times, and lonely nights in your room. It is sobs that wrack your body, trembles that force you to hold your knees to keep them still. It is the scars on your tongue from all the things you cannot, can never say.
“… it’s just that, I love him more.”
Micah gives a shaky nod of his head. He does not pout, will not let his grief or anger show in the curve of his eyebrows, the little twitch of his nose. He exhales through his nose quickly, quietly, before he bites at the side of his cheek and refuses to let himself think of what he’d do if he wasn’t as composed, or passive, or…
Shane takes Micah’s hands in his. That doesn’t do much to stop them from shaking. “Please,” he whispers brokenly, “say something.”
He thinks afterwards that should have said it then: I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, that it scares me. And I need you to understand, even after all we’ve been through, after all we’ve done…
But, at that moment, Micah says something else. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to say, but he says it anyway. “Go.”
Shane looks anxiously up at him, his eyes wide. “What are you—?”
“Go to him,” Micah firmly elaborates.
After a beat, Shane’s expression softens in something like understanding.
“You should hurry,” Micah continues, extremely grateful that his voice sounds steadier than he actually feels. “He’ll be happy to see you.”
With all that he’s been through in the past couple of years, Micah has learned that when it comes down to it, love’s about how much you care. It’s about how much you will endure and how much you’re willing to forgive.
Because if you truly love someone, you’ll do whatever it takes to make them happy, even if you two don’t end up together.
“You sure you’ve got everything?” Erin asks Micah, before shooting a pointed look at Shane.
“Yeah,” Micah says. “Lay off him, Erin. He finally gave me back my passport.”
“I didn’t!” the younger Anderson protests. “You wrestled it out of my hands!”
“Desperate times?” Micah offers, cracking a smile—one that Shane does not return.
Blaine comes running to them, then, tells them that they’re going to miss their flight if they don’t hurry, and insists on taking Erin and Rebecca’s suitcases for them.
“I expect no funny business from you today, Blaine,” the red head warns him playfully. Blaine just laughs.
Micah picks up his own suitcase from the floor and is about to follow when he feels a sharp tug on the sleeve of his jacket. He turns around to see Shane looking at him, sporting a look Micah can’t quite place, his eyes big and brown and wet.
“You’ll keep in touch, yeah?” Shane asks.
Micah pulls the younger brunet into a hug. His voice is even smaller than Shane’s when he says, “Of course.”
“I know things weren’t—they didn’t—I mean, you didn’t—we didn’t—.” Shane exhales deeply, before letting out a grunt of frustration.
“Shh,” Micah says, as he rubs comforting circles on Shane’s back. “It’s okay.”
Shane stops talking for a moment. He shakes his head and opens his mouth, only to close it again when nothing comes out. For a few seconds, he settles with simply tightening his grip around Micah’s chest.
Then, “I just don’t want to lose you again.”
“Not again,” Micah promises. “Never again.”
That, at least, is something to hold on to. For both of them.
He boards the plane with Erin and Rebecca twenty minutes later. As he pulls his headphones over his ears and closes his eyes, Micah realizes that he’s not mad. He’s not bitter. He’s just tired.
how do you even hate someone like micah randall, man?
blainewantsallthecocks answered: Mine getting each other for Fab Fiv secret santa
Erin wakes him early on Christmas morning, with a gratuitous phone call and a wave of giddy happiness that could rival that of a six year old’s. She tells him to arrive at the Anderson’s house a little before five, so he can work on the hot chocolate that he apparently has a knack for making.
“And don’t forget to bring your Secret Santa present,” the redhead reminds him.
toothbrush-thief answered your question:Fireplaces, with fluffy Mine?
“Hey, you wanna move closer to the fire?” Micah asked, several seconds into their embrace.
“No,” Shane answered, looking at him quizzically. “I’m good. Why?”
“It’s just… you’re holding me a lot tighter than you usually do,” Micah said.
