bo's footfalls are heavy on the stairs. she wants to call him back in because he can't just stand outside wrapped in a towel, but lance is in the way. 

she glares right back up at him, indignant at the accusation. "we haven't - i have not been sleeping with him." 

which feels wrong to say because last night she'd felt closer to bo than she ever had lance. and with the exception of her shirt rucked up in the morning, bo's hand stretching across her bare stomach, that's as exposed as they'd been. 

"why are you here, lance?"

boruta maher LANCE VOLLANS

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"really?"[break][break]

with the context and sights he has been given—what little of it, anyway—he finds it hard to believe that nothing has been going on between them.[break][break]

"to talk about things. why else would i be here? who breaks up over text, will? we're not in high school anymore."[break][break]

he continues.[break][break]

"or did our relationship matter that little to you?"

[attr="class","bottom"]willow atkins boruta maher[break]

indignation turns to frustration. her hands curl to fists and immediately her cheeks redden, eyes watering because she can't believe this. and it's all the more embarrassing because she cries when she's mad and she's really, really mad. 

"are you serious? you told the father of my son to stay away from him! from us! lance, you're lucky you got a text at all!"

LANCE VOLLANS boruta maher

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"i was watching out for roman! for you, will!"[break][break]

because having an ex-rocket like boruta maher in their lives brings them nothing but trouble.[break][break]

a pang of guilt rises as he's met with tears but he pushes on, frustration spilling as he scoffs.[break][break]

"i don't get it. i really don't. what do you see in him?"

[attr="class","bottom"]willow atkins boruta maher[break]

anger comes in bursts. in waves. it did so with samuel too. the flowers helped, but there aren't any flowers here and every word that comes over lance's mouth makes her angrier and angrier. tears slip down her cheeks - hot and agitated. 

she almost slaps him. 

"you have no right to decide ANYTHING for my son or me."

she's about to answer, everything, but roman pokes his head out from the hallway with a shit-eating grin and a middle finger raised. 

"get fucked, moleface!"

LANCE VOLLANS

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"this is ridiculous."[break][break]

exasperated, he wonders just how his life has reached this point. in sinnoh, he had a family, his life was wonderful and loving and joyful only for it to be turned upside down. so, he moved to hoenn, running away from the grief that plagued him.[break][break]

perhaps it's time to confront those feelings.[break][break]

what the fuck am i doing?[break][break]

"whatever," he sighs. "enjoy your life, will."[break][break]

he turns and leaves, ignoring the once-character-turn-npc down the hallway.

[attr="class","bottom"]willow atkins boruta maher[break]

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boruta loved his npc son. he deserved a slap in the mouth, maybe–but not by him. his hand was feeding pizza. from the slice, to be exact.[break][break]

hearing the front door shut, he took his cue to go in through the back, hair sufficiently puffed by the humid air and a glow about his face. as he stood in the kitchen, still robed in small-person-size-towel, he called down the hall, ”you’re an asshole, roman.”[break][break]

because yes, of course he’d been listening. ready.[break][break]

”you okay, will?”[break][break]

she does not need to have the last word. she does not need to have the last word. and besides, roman already did a number on his psyche. and also most importantly, she should be leading by example...or something like that. 

but still her hands are balled into fists and she is staring daggers at his back as he tromps down the stairs and slams the door shut behind him, hopefully out of their lives forever. 

"the fuck? he's a dick and the mole on his face is ugly and hairy," he says and willow's anger evaporates, replaced with an abrupt snort of laughter. 

"language, ro. go feed the greenhouse pokemon please so i can start breakfast." he rolls his eyes but thankfully follows instruction, grabbing a coat on his way out. 

willow eyes bo in his too-small towel, cheeks tingeing pink, and then turns to grab some bowls and ingredients for pancakes. "i'm fine. are you okay? 

boruta maher

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bo shook his head. ”disrespectful.” as though standing there in a towel smiling at lance had not been. perhaps they were all terrible people.[break][break]

but they would be terrible people together, as a family.[break][break]

as roman left, bo’s attention returned to her. he couldn’t keep from smiling at the pink in her cheeks. it felt good to see her recover so quickly, only to have the heat return to her face over his bare shoulders. he still had it.[break][break]

”oh…” he bit his lip, tentative to admit, ”i’m great. is that bad to say?”[break][break]

lance is gone and it's over and it being over means something can finally start. it means, if she wants to, she can tug that towel off from around bo's waist and they can pick up where they left off from last night. the thought makes her fumble with the flour and some of it puffs out and over her hand. 

she sighs, shakes it out, and reaches to wipe up the small spill, chiding herself silently to get it together. 

composure regained and a whisk in hand, she cradles a bowl in her arm, green eyes light with amusement as he admits he's more than good - he's great. 

"no. roman's right. he's a dick." her smile tugs. 

while she whisks, she raises a brow. "i think i have some of dad's old sweatpants lying around somewhere." hers certainly aren't going to fit him. "check the box in my closet."

boruta maher

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“yeah,” bo agreed, and left it at that. he’d said all he’d needed to with a fist before that words could never. it was in the past now, and he couldn’t be more grateful to leave those searing thoughts behind him. with enemies silenced by the walls of home, he could finally feel peace.[break][break]

but wait. there was one more he’d forgotten about.[break][break]

her father’s soul lived here.[break][break]

”ooh...” he considered her suggestion a moment, looking down the hall as though a ghost might be lingering. they were all over hoenn, after all. ”i don’t know about that, will. samuel might rise from the grave just to kick my ass.”[break]

the trick to perfect pancakes is to not whisk too much and to let the flour have a chance to do its thing and rise a little in the bowl. which leaves her some time to get out a couple of pans (because her boys can eat and one pan at a time won't cut it), get the butter browning, and the rest of the ingredients out of the fridge. 

some blueberries for herself and...she could have sworn they still had chocolate chips somewhere. 

"don't be silly, bo. if anything, mom's gonna knock your knees in for wearing them." she opens up the cupboard and leans back to look over the lip of the shelves. 

"and if he was going to rise from the grave, he would've done so last night after you drank his whiskey. damn it, ro, why do you always put things all the way up there?" 

because he likes to make fun of her height. obviously. 

she starts clearing some counter space, ready to hop up like an ambipom to get the chocolate morsels. 

boruta maher

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”shit. not the knees.” not eleanor kicking his ass.[break][break]

he wasn’t totally joking about not wearing her father’s pants. all this time, he’d been bitter and angry at samuel. now that he was back with the dead man’s daughter, he felt like he should be more respectful.[break][break]

he still needed pants, though, so maybe he would just have to get over it.[break][break]

”we drank his whiskey. don’t put that all on me.”[break][break]

his smile grew as she prepared to scale the counter like a pokémon investigating the canopy. was this an independence thing?[break][break]

roman truly was an asshole.[break][break]

”need some help there?”