More Than Me

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<<nobr>>  <li>[[Medical Profile]]</li> <</nobr>>

More Than Me

by <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/ryanstillwrites-if" target="_blank">Ryan Andes</a>

<<nobr>><center><h1>Medical Profile</h1></center> <center><h2>Issued by Lakeview Medical Clinic</h2></center><</nobr>> ''Fullname:'' $name $surname ''Date of Birth:'' 15 July 1992 ''Physical Appearance:'' The patient has $eye eyes, $skin skin and $hair_colour hair that's $hair_length and $hair_texture. $They $has_have a $body body type and $is_are $height. ''Occupation:'' <<if $pilot is true>>Pilot<</if>><<if $barber is true>>Hairdress<</if>><<if $coach is true>>Swimming Coach<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Paralegal<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>Filmmaker<</if>> ''Prognosis:'' Grade IV Gliosarcoma, located on the patients brainstem. The patient has an estimated $month months left to live. ''Symptoms:'' The patient currently experiences headaches, memory loss, nausea and vomitting. Further symptoms can develope, including weakness and numbness in extremeties, problems with balance and seizures. ''Treatment:'' N/A <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

<center><h1>$name's Relationships</h1></center> <<if $mother is true>> ''Your mother.'' It's just been the two of you for as long as you can remember, your father having passed away before you were born. You have yet to tell her about your prognosis, fearing her reaction due to her inability to handle bad news.<</if>><<if $brother is true>> ''Your older brother, Sutton.'' You've been inseparable for the entirety of your life, even more so after losing all other members of your family. You have yet to tell him about your prognosis, not wanting to him to have to cope with being the last man standing.<</if>><<if $grandfather is true>> ''Your grandfather.'' He's been your guardian since you were four years old and you wouldn't change that for anything in the world. You have yet to tell him about your prognosis, not wanting to break his heart over outliving his only grandchild.<</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>> ''Your bestfriend, Asra.'' You've been best friends for the entirety of your lives. You have yet to tell them about your prognosis, not wanting to them to have to figure out how to live without you.<</if>><<if $derek is true>> ''Derek.'' Instead of parents, you had Derek, who was a better guardian than you could've asked for. You have yet to tell him about your prognosis, not wanting to him to have to deal with the bad news, despite his proficiency for it. <</if>> <<if $meet_adelaide is true>>''Adelaide Scholz.'' <<if $a_ship is 0>>A stage 4 lung cnacer patient who's made it extremely clear she does not like you.<</if>><<if $a_ship is 5>>A stage 4 lung cancer pateint who seems to tolerate you despite how annoyed she acts when you're around.<</if>><<if $a_ship is 10>>A stage 4 lung cancer pateint who seems to like you despite how annoyed she acts when you're around.<</if>><</if>> <<if $meet_hayden is true>>''Hayden Della Rocca.'' $hayden_He's the first person you met at the support group. Despite only knowing $hayden_him for a short time, you really like Hayden - and the feeling is mutual.<</if>> <<if $meet_gabriel is true>>''Gabriel Torres.'' <<if $g_ship is 0>>You're not a fan of how silent and mysterious he is. You also get the feeling that you've previously hurt his feelings.<</if>><<if $g_ship is 5>>You don't mind how silent and mysterious he is and you're open to furthering your friendship with him.<</if>><<if $g_ship is 10>>You find his silence comforting and already consider him to be a good friend.<</if>><</if>> <<if $meet_jordan is true>>''Jordan Michaels''. The therapist overseeing the support group. <<if $j_ship is 0>>$jordan_He's determined to help you even if you'd rather $jordan_he didn't bother.<</if>><<if $j_ship is 5>>$jordan_He's determined to help you even if you're not sure $jordan_he can.<</if>><<if $j_ship is 10>>$jordan_He's determined to help you, which you readily accept.<</if>><</if>> <center><<link "Return to game" $return>><</link>></center>

<<textbox "$name" "">> <span class="next"><<button "Next" "last name">><</button>></span>

<<set $name to "">> <<set $surname to "">> <<set $nickname to "">> <<set $gender to "">> <<set $they to "">> <<set $They to "">> <<set $them to "">> <<set $their to "">> <<set $Their to "">> <<set $theirs to "">> <<set $themself to "">> <<set $skin to "">> <<set $eye to "">> <<set $body to "">> <<set $height to "">> <<set $hair_length to "">> <<set $hair_colour to "">> <<set $hair_texture to "">> <<set $has_have to "">> <<set $is_are to "">> <<set $meet_adelaide to false>> <<set $hayden_gender to "">> <<set $meet_hayden to false>> <<set $meet_gabriel to false>> <<set $jordan_pronoun to false>> <<set $meet_jordan to false>> <<set $mavis to false>> <<set $maverick to false>> <<set $meet_m to false>> <<set $meet_k to false>> <<set $meet_me to false>> <<set $mother to false>> <<set $brother to false>> <<set $grandfather to false>> <<set $bestfriend to false>> <<set $derek to false>> <<set $one_scone to false>> <<set $hayden_gender to "">> <<set $hayden_he to "">> <<set $hayden_He to "">> <<set $hayden_him to "">> <<set $hayden_his to "">> <<set $hayden_His to "">> <<set $hayden_hers to "">> <<set $hayden_himself to "">> <<set $jordan_gender to "">> <<set $jordan_he to "">> <<set $jordan_He to "">> <<set $jordan_him to "">> <<set $jordan_his to "">> <<set $jordan_hers to "">> <<set $jordan_himself to "">> <<set $jordan_is to "">> <<set $jordan_has to "">> <<set $jordan_plural to "">> <<set $jordan_plurals to "">> <<set $m_gender to "">> <<set $m_he to "">> <<set $m_He to "">> <<set $m_him to "">> <<set $m_his to "">> <<set $m_hers to "">> <<set $m_himself to "">> <<set $genuine to 0>> <<set $impassive to 0>> <<set $aggressive to 0>> <<set $month to "four">> <<set $tell_fam to false>> <<set $a_ship to 0>> <<set $h_ship to 0>> <<set $g_ship to 0>> <<set $j_ship to 0>> <<set $m_ship to 0>> <<set $k_ship to 0>> <<set $me_ship to 0>> <<set $go_with_adelaide to false>> <<set $go_with_hayden to false>> <<set $go_with_gabriel to false>> <<set $go_with_jordan to false>> <<set $apartment to false>> <<set $house to false>> <<set $boat to false>> <<set $rv to false>> <<set $job to false>> <<set $pilot to false>> <<set $coach to false>> <<set $barber to false>> <<set $paralegal to false>> <<set $filmmaker to false>>

Does your first name often get shortened? If not, just retype your first name. <<textbox "$nickname" "">> <span class="next"><<button "Next" "gender">><</button>></span>

<<textbox "$surname" "">> <span class="next"><<button "Next" "nickname">><</button>></span>

What do you identify as? [[Male|pronouns][$gender to "man"]] [[Female|pronouns][$gender to "woman"]] [[Non-binary|pronouns][$gender to "non-binary"]]

What are your pronouns? [[He/him/his|appearance][$they to "he", $them to "him", $their to "his", $theirs to "his", $themself to "himself", $has_have to "has", $They to "He", $Their to "His", $is_are to "is"]] [[She/her/her|appearance][$they to "she", $them to "her", $their to "her", $theirs to "hers", $themself to "herself", $has_have to "has", $They to "She", $Their to "Her", $is_are to "is"]] [[They/them/their|appearance][$they to "they", $them to "them", $their to "their", $theirs to "his", $themself to "themself", $has_have to "have", $They to "They", $Their to "Their", $is_are to "are"]] [[Xe/xem/xer|appearance][$they to "xe", $them to "xem", $their to "xyr", $theirs to "xyrs", $themself to "xemself", $has_have to "have", $They to "Xe", $Their to "Xyr", $is_are to "are"]]

Please select the options that most resemble your appearance. You have <<cycle "$hair_length" autoselect>> <<option "long">> <<option "mid-length">> <<option "short">> <<option "shaved">> <</cycle>> <<cycle "$hair_colour" autoselect>> <<option "black">> <<option "brown">> <<option "blonde">> <<option "ginger">> <<option "red">> <<option "blue">> <<option "green">> <<option "purple">> <<option "pink">> <<option "white">> <</cycle>> hair that's <<cycle "$hair_texture" autoselect>> <<option "straight">> <<option "wavy">> <<option "curly">> <<option "kinky">> <</cycle>>. Your skin is <<cycle "$skin" autoselect>> <<option "ivory">> <<option "olive">> <<option "tan">> <<option "umber">> <<option "ebony">> <</cycle>> and your eyes are <<cycle "$eye" autoselect>> <<option "blue">> <<option "green">> <<option "hazel">> <<option "brown">> <<option "black">> <<option "grey">> <</cycle>>. Your body is <<cycle "$body" autoselect>> <<option "slim">> <<option "lean">> <<option "toned">> <<option "muscular">> <<option "soft">> <<option "overweight">> <</cycle>> and you are <<cycle "$height" autoselect>> <<option "very short">> <<option "short">> <<option "average height">> <<option "tall">> <<option "very tall">> <</cycle>>. <span class="The doctor will see you now"><<button "The doctor will see you now" "chapter one">><</button>></span>

<<nobr>><center><h1>Chapter One:</h1></center> <center><h2>Part I</h2></center> <center><h3>"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations</h3></center><</nobr>> You didn't hear much the doctor said after "brain tumor", "four months" and the obligatory "I'm so sorry". But if you're being honest with yourself, you didn't need to. You're dying; that much is simple. There's nothing else he could say to change that. No words, no medicines, no treatments. Your fate is inevitable. You'd found out a week ago; you're still trying to wrap your head around it. Truthfully, the symptoms had been going on for a lot longer. It should've been obvious, what with the headaches... nausea... memory loss. Maybe you wouldn't be in this position if you weren't so stubborn, if you listened to your instincts. But you didn't. Finally; your habit of procrastinating had pushed you off the deep end. A week is a long time to think. He'd given you pamphlets to support groups, several of them. You'd gone to three of them, all on the same day, that same day, but you hadn't stuck around longer than ten minutes. It had been a lot of tears and hugs and sob stories; all things you can do without; you harbour enough sadness and heartbreak for a lifetime, or four months rather, which is an absurd amount of time, now that you think about it. You were ready to toss out the pamphlets, if three were bad, you imagine the rest would be much of the same, but moments before dropping the stack in the dustbin, you stopped yourself. The pamphlet on top had caught your eye, subdued pastel colours and a clean fine print, with words that didn't really matter, they're the same as all those buried beneath it. There wasn't anything overtly obvious that made this support group stand out from the rest, other than a gut feeling, an inkling, a spidey sense. So it shouldn't make sense that this one stood out to you but you can count on one hand all the things that make sense to you currently; a big, fat zero. <span class="next"><<button "And so here you are, on the train, pastel blue pamphlet in hand, on your way to the community centre." "1-1">><</button>></span>

The train conductor seems to be taking his time, at this rate you'll have missed the meeting before you even arrive. You sit across from a woman and her small child, what you //assume// is her child. Watching them serves as a decent distraction from the train moving at a glacial pace, from the tumor growing on your brainstem. The woman reads a book, the title in Spanish, the author not one you recognise, the cover black, white and red. The child plays with a neon pink and green yoyo, throwing his hand up and down, the plastic toy flying out of his control more often than not. Though each remains focused on their own tasks, they hold hands, the child tugging on the woman's arm each time he manages to successfully catch the toy, though the woman hardly reacts, engrossed in her novel. You're curious watching them together, seeing how two people so familiar with each other interact. You haven't told anyone of your diagnosis despite having plenty of time to do so. You don't have a lot of close relationships in your life, you really just have the one, one single person keeping you social and sane. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Your mother</div>' 'Your mother'>><<set $mother to true>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Your brother</div>' 'Your brother'>><<set $brother to true>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Your grandfather</div>' 'Your grandfather'>><<set $grandfather to true>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Your bestfriend</div>' 'Your bestfriend'>><<set $bestfriend to true>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Derek</div>' 'Derek'>><<set $derek to true>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

It's just been the two of you for a long time, long as you can remember, long as you've been alive. You suppose you had a father, once upon a time, but he was gone before you were you. Which is a shame really, maybe your mother wouldn't have been as sleep-deprived all the time with an extra set of hands but she somehow managed. She did as well as any single mother could which was, in your very own words, pretty fucking good. You've told her as much too, not that she's ever believed you, she's always been too humble for her own good, never taking credit for her accomplishments, you her biggest and brightest, but you continue to tell her anyway. As perfect as she's always been in your eyes, you've come to terms with the fact that she isn't in reality. She's flawed, in her own way, though when compared to others, her inability to handle bad news isn't so outlandish. Perhaps it's for this reason that you've chosen to keep your impending demise from her, you don't know exactly how she'll react, though there are definitive options to choose from. Either she'll cry and breakdown or she'll refuse to acknowledge the truth and then later breakdown or she'll have several breakdowns in a row, hardly taking a breather in between them. Not that you can blame her for any of it, the missing patriarch of your small family is enough evidence as to why she acts the way she does, but you'd rather not put either of you through that pain. <<nobr>>Still, you'll have to rip off the bandaid sooner or later, she'll have to know eventually. <span class="next"><<button "You consider telling her this afternoon, depending on how this support group turns out." "1-2">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

Sutton $surname. The last living member of your family, besides you. It took a while, a couple of decades at that to finish everyone off, but now it's just you two alone. After the third death had struck, he'd joked that you were a dying breed. Who knew he'd be so right? He's older than you, only by three years, but he's remained by your side since the day of your arrival as if he arrived with you. You shared a room and toys and the odd article of clothing, went to the same schools (primary, secondary and tertiary) and even continued living together for a while until a year or two back. You were often called his shadow, though you'd argue that it was more the other way around, he wouldn't deny it either. He adores you and you him. Which probably attributes to you not wanting to deliver such gut-wrenching news to him. Though he puts on a tough front, deep down you know that he's a softie and the knowledge of being the last man standing would break him. How on earth is he supposed to live without you, his other half? You don't want to break him and for now, you choose not to. <<nobr>>Still, you'll have to rip off the bandaid sooner or later, he'll have to know eventually. <span class="next"><<button "You consider telling him this afternoon, depending on how this support group turns out." "1-2">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

A wizened old man who was born a mute. After being dumped in his care by parents who couldn't care less about you, he'd raised you as his own since you were four. He taught you sign language and the ins and outs of poker from a young age, later on how to mow the lawn and how to play ice hockey, how to mix a drink and how to balance a tax sheet. He wasn't a very good cook and he kept a rigid schedule of chores for you to complete every day, but he did his best with what he had and his best was good enough for you. More than good enough you'd wager and given your talent for gambling, credit to him, that's a bet you're more than likely to win. You've been avoiding his texts since your diagnosis which, after talking every single day for as long as you've been in his care, is a big deal. You tell yourself you're doing it for his own good, he has his own issues to worry about, mainly the arthritis usurping control over his left hand, but you know that to be untrue. You just don't want to break the old man's heart, to burden him with the knowledge that he's going to outlive his only grandchild, that's he going to have to figure out how to live without you four months from now. That's not a pain you want to put either of you through, for now at least. <<nobr>>Still, you'll have to rip off the bandaid sooner or later, he'll have to know eventually. <span class="next"><<button "You consider telling him this afternoon, depending on how this support group turns out." "1-2">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

Asra Figueroa has been your best friend for as long as you've had conscious thoughts. Growing up together in an orphanage, because of course the two of you are orphans, it was all too easy to find someone to link arms with, share a bunk with, jump rope in the courtyard with. You don't recall ever actually meeting them, they've just always been by your side, a head taller than you, judging your taste in music and those you developed a liking for. You sold yourselves as a package deal, telling hopeful, adoptive parents that it was either both of you or neither, which typically ended with you two being overlooked completely but you were never overly concerned about that. You had each other and that was enough. Eventually, you were forced to leave the orphanage with no real home in sight and they followed you out into the world, or you followed them, it's difficult to tell which, the point was that you were together. They'd found themself in a university in another city, studying marine biology, and you found yourself in the dorm room across from theirs, studying anything and everything you found interesting at the time. It doesn't matter where or when, you always had Asra to fall back on, as they did you. There's no secret of yours they don't know, some wholesome, others downright embarrassing, but they never judged you for any of it, proving time and again that they would be there for you no matter, so there isn't really any solid reason for not telling them about the brain tumor you're hosting. Perhaps because you've been inseparable for so long, telling them they're going to have to figure out how to live without you is a feat unimaginable. You wouldn't want to live without them, you don't want to even picture what that would be like, but then again, you don't have to. Asra's been stuck with the short end of the stick and you can't do that to them, not for now at least. <<nobr>>Still, you'll have to rip off the bandaid sooner or later, they'll have to know eventually. <span class="next"><<button "You consider telling them this afternoon, depending on how this support group turns out." "1-2">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

Growing up, everyone in school had either a mom or a dad or both, maybe two moms or two dads, one kid you knew had two moms //and// two dads. You, on the other hand, had Derek. You could've called him dad or uncle or any name a kid would give to their guardian, he even gave the option to, but it never really stuck. He was Derek and you were $name. The story of your origin was never really brought up by either of you and you suppose it never will, not that it bothers you. Derek was as good a parent as any; he made sure you did all your homework, he took you to soccer practise every Tuesday, he made sure to get the toppings you like every time he ordered pizza. Derek was indeed very good and you couldn't ask for a better Derek. He's always been a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. He absorbs bad news like a sponge, takes his fives minutes to process the information, give his brain some time to come up with a plan, then he jumps into action. In a way, you'd say that he speed runs the grieving process; taking his time to deal with every emotion that comes his way but never dwelling on it for too long. They always come and go, some lasting longer than others but never sticking around permanently. You know he'd be able to handle the news of the unlawful tenant in your brain, he's proven to be capable of such many a time. It may be a tad more difficult than other times - he's your Derek and you're his $name after all - but he'd find a way, he'd figure out a way to cope, that's just who he is. It's not really clear to you why you haven't told him yet, he'd probably handle it better than you in any case, but you consider that maybe he wouldn't //want// to handle it. Losing you would be like the moon losing the sun, you know because that's how you imagine losing him to be. So maybe, just maybe, you're not telling him to spare him the emotional toll, //yourself// the emotional toll. That reasoning sounds right in your head and you convince yourself, for now, that it's true despite knowing in your heart that it's not. <<nobr>>Still, you'll have to rip off the bandaid sooner or later, he'll have to know eventually. <span class="next"><<button "You consider telling him this afternoon, depending on how this support group turns out." "1-2">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

The train eases to a stop and the voice on the intercom announces that this is //your// stop. You stand up, fix your jacket and stuff the pamphlet in your pocket, casting one last glance at the woman and child to find them both still engrossed with what each are doing, before you approach the open doors and step onto the platform. The train station isn't so crowded for a Monday morning, which you suppose shouldn't surpise you, the lunch rush isn't for another hour, everyone is still at work. You don't linger, not taking your time to admire everything you typically would when the world is this empty, you're already late for the meeting, courtesy of the train conductor. You attempt to tell yourself that there's no need to worry about the time, you'd walked in on group meetings that had long been in progress before your arrival, this one won't be any different. But you don't believe it, this group is different, whether that's good different or bad different you'll find out, it's different enough that you want to experience it from the start, who cares if you stick around to the end. The community centre is a quick walk from the train station, still though you take no chances, nearly running down the street in your attempt to get there faster. It is easier, not having to dodge pedestrians or oncoming traffic when you need to cross the street, with the exception of that old man and that city bus, but for the most part, it's easier and you arrive in less than ten minutes. Specifically seven and a half. When you walk through the doors of the community centre and then through the door of the specific room the support group is being held in, kindly directed by the woman at the front desk, you're confused. The people who you assume are the regular attendees are simply milling about, talking to each other, picking at the food table, overall not doing any type of therapy or supporting. You glance at the time on your phone, comparing it with the time printed on the pamphlet and you see that the meeting //should// have started some twelve minutes ago. Now, even more confused, you decide to approach someone and <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">you make your way towards the man standing closest to you.</div>' '1-3'>><<set $hayden_gender to "man", $hayden_he to "he", $hayden_He to "He", $hayden_him to "him", $hayden_his to "his", $hayden_hers to "his", $hayden_himself to "himself", $hayden_His to "His">><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">you make your way towards the woman standing closest to you.</div>' '1-3'>><<set $hayden_gender to "woman", $hayden_he to "she", $hayden_He to "She", $hayden_him to "her", $hayden_his to "her", $hayden_hers to "hers", $hayden_himself to "herself", $hayden_His to "Her">><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<if $hayden_gender is "man">>He has brown hair, short and shaggy, and golden tanned skin, holding a styrofoam cup in one hand and what looks like a blueberry scone in the other. He wears a silk button-up shirt, emerald green and dotted with small white flowers in a nonsensical pattern, tucked into black trousers belted at his waist, his outfit ending in a polished pair of dark brown loafers. He's quite tall, taller than most, accomodating his larger, softer build quite nicely. As you draw closer, you notice he has bright brown eyes, a dimple on his cheek, more prominent due to the easy smile on his face and you can't help but think that he's quite handsome.<</if>><<if $hayden_gender is "woman">>She has brown hair, long and shaggy, and golden tanned skin, holding a styrofoam cup in one hand and what looks like a blueberry scone in the other. She wears a silk button-up shirt, emerald green and dotted with small white flowers in a nonsensical pattern, tucked into black trousers belted at her waist, her outfit ending in a polished pair of dark brown loafers. She's quite tall, taller than most, accomodating her larger, softer build quite nicely. As you draw closer, you notice she has bright brown eyes, a dimple on her cheek, more prominent due to the easy smile on her face and you can't help but think that she's quite beautiful.<</if>> "Excuse me," you say, stopping next to $hayden_him, causing $hayden_him to look away from the table before $hayden_him, turning $hayden_his smile onto you. "Have I missed the meeting or something?" "Oh, don't worry," $hayden_he replies, gesturing towards the rest of the room with the scone and your eyes drift to the number of chairs arranged in a circle. "Jordan's just late... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">he usually is."</div>' '1-4'>><<set $jordan_gender to "man", $jordan_he to "he", $jordan_He to "He", $jordan_him to "him", $jordan_his to "his", $jordan_hers to "his", $jordan_himself to "himself", $jordan_is to "is", $jordan_has to "has", $jordan_plural to "s", $jordan_plurals to "s">><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">she usually is."</div>' '1-4'>><<set $jordan_gender to "woman", $jordan_he to "she", $jordan_He to "She", $jordan_him to "her", $jordan_his to "her", $jordan_hers to "hers", $jordan_himself to "herself", $jordan_is to "is", $jordan_has to "has", $jordan_plural to "s", $jordan_plurals to "s">><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">they usually are."</div>' '1-4'>><<set $jordan_gender to "person", $jordan_he to "they", $jordan_He to "They", $jordan_him to "them", $jordan_his to "their", $jordan_hers to "theirs", $jordan_himself to "themself", $jordan_is to "are", $jordan_has to "have", $jordan_plural to "re">><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

"You should definitely try the scones," $hayden_he says, gesturing again with the scone as $hayden_he picks up $hayden_his cup. "Margaret's baking is out of this world. It's what I look forward to most when coming to these meetings." You start to reply when another voice rings out behind you and you look over your shoulder for the source, finding a $jordan_gender walking towards the circle of chairs, $jordan_his eyes black and $jordan_his skin a rich brown, $jordan_his navy pantsuit dishevelled slightly, a messenger bag slung across $jordan_his chest. "Alright, pack it in, people," $jordan_he say$jordan_plurals, somewhat out of breath. "I know I'm late but it's //not// my fault." This must be Jordan. Someone else speaks up then and you turn your attention in their direction. "That's what you say every time," the man says. He has hazel eyes lined with dark circles and full lips, caramel skin, black hair braided in cornrows, a baggy shirt and ripped jeans hanging off his lanky frame. He's young, a lot younger than you; he shouldn't be in a place like this. "I see what you're doing, Kade," Jordan says as $jordan_he pull$jordan_plurals off $jordan_his messenger bag, straightening $jordan_his suit jacket in the process, and hang$jordan_plurals it over the back of $jordan_his chosen chair. "And I'm not gonna fall for it." Kade only smiles in response as he walks towards a chair of his own and everyone else seems to follow suit. Hayden nudges you with $hayden_his elbow and you look to $hayden_him just as $hayden_he speaks; "C'mon, you can sit next to me." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You nod, grabbing a scone off the tray on the table as you follow $hayden_him.</div>' '1-6'>><<set $one_scone to true>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You nod and follow $hayden_him without a second thought.</div>' '1-6'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<if $one_scone is true>>Hayden claims a chair for $hayden_himself and you slide into the one next to $hayden_him, nibbling on the scone, thinking that is indeed out of this world, and find yourself sitting between $hayden_him and a pale, gaunt-looking woman. Her hair is a deep, vibrant red and though she doesn't spare you even a first glance, you catch sight of ocean blue irises flicking around the room. From the way she slumps in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest, the leather of her jacket squeaking slightly, you can tell that she'd rather be anywhere but here. "Oh!" Jordan says and you glance up to find yourself sitting directly across from $jordan_him, $jordan_his dark eyes centred on you. "You're new!" You nod slowly, still quietly eating your scone, and $jordan_he smile$jordan_plurals at you. "I'm Dr. Michaels, but just Jordan is fine with me."<</if>><<if $one_scone is false>>Hayden claims a chair for $hayden_himself and you slide into the one next to $hayden_him and find yourself sitting between $hayden_him and a pale, gaunt-looking woman. Her hair is deep, vibrant red and though she doesn't spare you even a first glance, you catch sight of ocean blue irises flicking around the room. From the way she slumps in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest, the leather of her jacket squeaking slightly, you can tell that she'd rather be anywhere but here. "Oh!" Jordan says and you glance up to find yourself sitting directly across from $jordan_him, $jordan_his dark eyes centred on you. "You're new!" You nod slowly and $jordan_he smile$jordan_plurals at you. "I'm Dr. Michaels, but just Jordan is fine with me."<</if>> "Just Jordan really rolls off the tongue," Kade teases. "Why don't you start us off?" $jordan_He say$jordan_plurals, pointedly ignoring Kade. "Uh..." You glance around at the people sitting in the chairs and find them all staring at you, except the woman next to you, who stares straight ahead at nothing, her arms still crossed. You look back at the therapist. "I'm not really sure what to say." "Just an introduction is fine," $jordan_he say$jordan_plurals with a nod of encouragement. <<if $one_scone is true>>You take a deep breath, your tongue dry, maybe more so because of the scone than having to reveal the truth of why you're here to strangers before you've told the one person you care about, and finally let the words out of the prison of your mouth.<</if>><<if $one_scone is false>>You take a deep breath, your tongue dry, nervous of having to reveal the truth of why you're here to strangers before you've told the one person you care about, and finally let the words out of the prison of your mouth.<</if>> <<nobr>>"Um, hello, everyone... I'm $name and I have a brain tumor." <span class="next"><<button "Next Part" "c1 p2">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to 0>><<set $impassive to 0>><<set $aggressive to 0>><<set $mother to false>><<set $brother to false>><<set $grandfather to false>><<set $bestfriend to false>><<set $derek to false>><<set $one_scone to false>><<set $month to "four">><<set $a_ship to 0>><<set $h_ship to 0>><<set $g_ship to 0>><<set $j_ship to 0>><<set $m_ship to 0>><<set $meet_k to false>><<set $meet_me to false>><<set $k_ship to 0>><<set $me_ship to 0>><<set $go_with_adelaide to false>><<set $go_with_hayden to false>><<set $go_with_gabriel to false>><<set $go_with_jordan to false>><<set $apartment to false>><<set $house to false>><<set $boat to false>><<set $rv to false>><<set $job to false>><<set $pilot to false>><<set $coach to false>><<set $barber to false>><<set $paralegal to false>><<set $filmmaker to false>><center><h1>Character Customisation</h1></center> Welcome to Lakeview Medical Clinic, the doctor will see you shortly. Please fill out these medical forms while you wait. What is your full name, starting with your first? [[Lachlan|last name][$name to "Lachlan"]] [[Leo|last name][$name to "Leo"]] [[Lacey|last name][$name to "Lacey"]] [[Lindsey|last name][$name to "Lindsey"]] [[Lael|last name][$name to "Lael"]] [[Landry|last name][$name to "Landry"]] [[Input own name|input name]]

"Jordan?" You question, looking away from the chairs. "The therapist." $hayden_He suddenly looks at you with wide eyes, placing $hayden_his cup on the table before offering $hayden_his hand to you, a handshake that you tentatively return. "Shit, where are my manners? I'm Hayden." <<nobr>>"$name." <span class="next"><<button "Next" "1-5">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<nobr>><center><h1>Chapter One:</h1></center> <center><h2>Part II</h2></center> <center><h3>"In a world where death is the hunter, my friend, there is no time for regrets or doubts. There is only time for decisions." - Carlos Castaneda, Journey to Ixtlan</h3></center><</nobr>> You've been attending the support group for close to three weeks now and in that time, you've learnt a lot. For one; you're a lot more depressed than you initially thought, and your brain tumor wasn't even the start of it - though it is a significant part of it now. It was more of an amalgamation of things that piled on top of each other, one after the other, until they towered so high, they blocked out the sun. A feeling of unsatisfaction at work, your somewhat pathetic social life, your even more pathetic love life and your lack of sleep and actual sunlight doesn't exactly amount to a mentally-well person. Or, evidently, a //physically//-well person either. <<nobr>>You've also learnt, after interacting with them, that your fellow support group-goers aren't as miserable as you expected them to be. <span class="next"><<button "The first was Adelaide." "adelaide">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $meet_adelaide to true>>//You approached her after that very first meeting. She stood by the food table, leather jacket hanging off her skeletal frame, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and metal teaspoon in the other. She looked distinctly annoyed - if that scowl on her face was anything to go by. <<if $one_scone is true>>"Hi," you said, coming to a stop next to her, grabbing another scone. She didn't look at you, didn't acknowledge you in any form or fashion, she simply tossed the spoon onto the table and took a sip of her coffee and grimaced before taking another sip. Confused as you were, you weren't going to let her ignoring you stop you. "I'm $name."<</if>><<if $one_scone is false>>"Hi," you said, coming to a stop next to her, grabbing one of the scones that Hayden had so highly praised. She didn't look at you, didn't acknowledge you in any form or fashion, she simply tossed the spoon onto the table and took a sip of her coffee and grimaced before taking another sip. Confused as you were, you weren't going to let her ignoring you stop you. "I'm $name."<</if>> She heaved a loud, drawn out sigh as if to reinforce the idea that she did not want to be talking to anyone here, let alone you. "Yeah," she said and took another sip of coffee, only to grimace again immediately after. "I remember, Brain Break." You blinked at her in surprise. "I'm sorry?" "Good." She paused for a moment before finally looking at you then and upon seeing your confusion, she rolled her eyes so far back you think it must've hurt. "It's a nickname," she said bluntly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Y'know... because of your brain tumor?" "Right," you said, nodding. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"That\'s clever." //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'adelaide-1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I\'d prefer just $nickname, though." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'adelaide-2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"What\'s your problem?" //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'adelaide-3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $meet_hayden to true>><<if $a_ship is 0>>After your miserable first encounter with Adelaide, you reunited with Hayden at the train station.<</if>><<if $a_ship is 5>>After your less than successful first encounter with Adelaide, you reunited with Hayden at the train station.<</if>><<if $a_ship is 10>>After your somewhat successful first encounter with Adelaide, you reunited with Hayden at the train station.<</if>> //"Hey, stranger!" $hayden_He beamed as $hayden_he sidled up to you on the platform. $hayden_His perfume washed over you in waves, the scent so delicious and mouth watering, you couldn't stop yourself from leaning in closer until only a mere breath of air could slip in between the sliver space separating you from $hayden_him, just barely preventing your arms from touching. "Long time no see." "Hi, Hayden," you said, offering $hayden_him a kind smile in return. You don't know what it is about Hayden that has your mood lifting almost in an instant but you're happy to have $hayden_him here with you. //Perhaps it's that smile,// you thought indulgently, //that or the perfume.// "What did you think of the meeting?" $hayden_He looked at you imploringly through $hayden_his thick dark lashes. "Did you have a good time?" You blinked at $hayden_him as you thought back on the meeting, trying to nail down how exactly you felt in that time. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I did, actually." //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'hayden-1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Shrug noncommittally. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'hayden-2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Shake your head. "I don\'t like talking about myself." //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'hayden-3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>//"Thanks for the assessment," she grumbled. She set down her cup and made a guttural sound in the back of her throat that was less to actually clear her throat but rather to get the taste of what is apparently subpar coffee out of her mouth. Looking back at you, she raised a curious, plucked eyebrow. "Do you want me to insult you again? Go away." As tempted as you were to follow the instruction given to you, you felt you were in too deep to give up on her now. "Well, you didn't tell me your name in return." The glaring look she sent you was almost enough to send you running but your ability to remain glued to your spot surprised even yourself. "Adelaide," she grunted after a moment and you let yourself smile at her before she shot you another glare. "But don't ask me why I'm here or when I'm gonna die; we're not that close yet." Despite everything in her body language, tone of voice and facial expression, you couldn't help but let your smile widen at her choice of words. "Yet? So, you see us becoming close?" She stopped in her tracks and looked at you as if you'd just threatened her life. "I'm going to leave before I punch you in the throat." She took one final, disgusted sip of coffee before dumping the cup in the dustbin sitting beside the table. She spun on her feet then and took off for the exit, not sparing you even a last glance.// <<nobr>>You learnt that next meeting that she's a stage four lung cancer patient when Jordan scolded her for hanging onto an old pack of cigarettes. The redhead claims that it remains unopened but you have your doubts. <span class="next"><<button "Next was Hayden." "hayden">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>//Again, she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you'd prefer to not have a brain tumor too," she said bluntly. She set down her cup and made a guttural sound in the back of her throat that was less to actually clear her throat but rather to get the taste of what is apparently subpar coffee out of her mouth. She looked at you squarely then and her blue eyes seemed to be more blue than anything you'd ever seen before. "But that's just not the way life works, isn't it?" You blinked at her, half in confusion, half in shere shock at her gall to say whatever crossed her mind. "I think we got off on the foot," you said, wondering truly what you did to aggravate her as much as you seem to. "Let's start over." "Let's not," she replied, her tone of voice edging into mockery before she looked at you with a deadpan look that accentuated her gaunt features. "Look, $name, you seem nice and all, but I'm just not in the market for friends, especially not the new kid on the block. I'm way too close to death to waste time on getting to know someone new." Before you could even begin to come up with something to say back to her in response, she took one final, disgusted sip of coffee before dumping the cup in the dustbin sitting beside the table. She spun on her feet then and took off for the exit, not sparing you even a last glance.// <<nobr>>You learnt that next meeting that her name is Adelaide and that she's a stage four lung cancer patient when Jordan scolded her for hanging onto an old pack of cigarettes. The redhead claims that it remains unopened but you have your doubts. <span class="next"><<button "Next was Hayden." "hayden">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>//"You, currently," she grumbled. She set down her cup and made a guttural sound in the back of her throat that was less to actually clear her throat but rather to get the taste of what is apparently subpar coffee out of her mouth. She looked at you squarely then and her blue eyes seemed to be more blue than anything you'd ever seen before. "I'm not sure what you're expecting to come from talking to me, but if it's friendship you're looking for, you've got the wrong gal." You narrowed your eyes at her, taken aback by her abrasiveness. "Just being polite, is all," you muttered before taking an indignant bite of your scone. <<if $one_scone is true>>While still very good, your present company had you enjoying the taste of it less than you had before.<</if>><<if $one_scone is false>>While still very good, your present company had you enjoying the taste of it less than you would if she weren't there.<</if>> Again she rolled her eyes. "That means even less to me." She took one final, disgusted sip of coffee before dumping the cup in the dustbin sitting beside the table. She spun on her feet then and took off for the exit, not sparing you even a last glance.// <<nobr>>You learnt that next meeting that her name is Adelaide and that she's a stage four lung cancer patient when Jordan scolded her for hanging onto an old pack of cigarettes. The redhead claims that it remains unopened but you have your doubts. <span class="next"><<button "Next was Hayden." "hayden">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>//"I just talked about myself the whole time," you told $hayden_him and $hayden_he simply mirrored your shrug, only with big, bright smile on $hayden_his face. "I can't speak for anyone else, but I certainly enjoyed learning about you." $hayden_He shoved $hayden_his hands deep in the pockets of $hayden_his coat and nudged you with $hayden_his elbow. "On the bright side, next meeting will be less about you and more about the rest of the group as a whole. Jordan just gets excited whenever someone new joins the group." You pressed your lips into a thin line. "I guess that makes me feel better." Truthfully, it didn't really matter to you what happened during group meetings; you were finally starting to feel like yourself again after a week of existentialism and wondering why life had cursed you specifically with an inoperable brain tumor and it was all thanks to the meeting. Maybe Margaret's scones were made of magic or maybe talking about your problems really does work to make you feel better - it didn't matter what the true cause was, you'd found your holy grail of self healing and acceptance, and you were most certainly going back for more. "Does this mean we can expect you at the next meeting?" $hayden_He looked at you with big, hopeful eyes and after seeing that, only a monster could deny $hayden_him the answer $hayden_he wanted. And you're no monster. "Signs point to yes," you told $hayden_him and somehow $hayden_his bright smile got even brighter. "That's great! I think Margaret said she's going to bring pastries, so if nothing else, look forward to that." You chuckled softly and moved to reply when a train suddenly pulled into the station, stopping at the platform behind you. Hayden perked up at the sight of it. "That's my ride," $hayden_he said and $hayden_he flashed you that token smile of $hayden_hers one last time. "I look forward to seeing you again, $name. Have a safe trip home!" You said your goodbyes and $hayden_he waved at you over $hayden_his shoulder just as the doors shut behind $hayden_him. Your own train arrived two minutes later and you climbed aboard, finding a seat somewhere in second class, your smile remaining long after your cheeks began to hurt.// <span class="next"><<button "Then Gabriel." "gabriel">><</button>></span>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>//"I have to admit, it wasn't at all what I was expecting," you told $hayden_him. Hayden brightened at your words as if instead of praising the group and the experience, you were praising $hayden_him specifically. "Let me guess: you were expecting doom and gloom?" You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Just about. But I'm glad it wasn't; this was a lot better." "Does this mean we can expect you at the next meeting?" $hayden_He looked at you with big, hopeful eyes and after seeing that, only a monster could deny $hayden_him the answer $hayden_he wanted. And you're no monster. "Signs point to yes," you told $hayden_him and somehow $hayden_his bright smile got even brighter. "That's great! I think Margaret said she's going to bring pastries, so if nothing else, look forward to that." You chuckled again and moved to reply when a train suddenly pulled into the station, stopping at the platform behind you. Hayden perked up at the sight of it. "That's my ride," $hayden_he said and $hayden_he flashed you that token smile of $hayden_hers one last time. "I look forward to seeing you again, $name. Have a safe trip home!" You said your goodbyes and $hayden_he waved at you over $hayden_his shoulder just as the doors shut behind $hayden_him. Your own train arrived two minutes later and you climbed aboard, finding a seat somewhere in second class, your smile remaining long after your cheeks began to hurt.// <span class="next"><<button "Then Gabriel." "gabriel">><</button>></span>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>//Hayden nodded in understanding and watched you with appraising eyes. "It takes some getting used to," $hayden_he said before suddenly a large, genuine smile spread across $hayden_his face. "Sometimes I like to pretend it's an AA meeting and I come up with a whole new backstory for myself. Maybe you should try that?" You raised an eyebrow at $hayden_him, curious and confused as to how that could possibly help you get over your discomfort at talking about yourself. "Why would I do that?" $hayden_He shrugs happily, that dopey smile of $hayden_hers remaining strong on $hayden_his face. "It's fun," $hayden_he tells you. "It helps get over the fear of being judged." Clearly, you wore your apprehension loud and proud because $hayden_he nodded emphatically and went on. "Hand to God, $name. You don't actually have to tell anyone about it if you don't want to. It's more just something for yourself, to help cope with the nerves. It's also just fun to pretend to be someone else for a change, even if only in your mind." "Right," you said. Admittedly, you weren't convinced Hayden's methods worked all that well but so far, $hayden_he had been nothing but kind to you thus far - even despite the ever so slightly aggressive tone you'd taken with $hayden_him just moments before - and so, even if you never tried it out for yourself, you decided to trust that it works anyway. Before you could say more, however, a train suddenly pulled into the station, stopping at the platform behind you. Hayden perked up at the sight of it. "That's my ride," $hayden_he said and $hayden_he flashed you that token smile of $hayden_hers one last time, which you felt obligated to return. "I look forward to seeing you again, $name. Have a safe trip home!" You said your goodbyes and $hayden_he waved at you over $hayden_his shoulder just as the doors shut behind $hayden_him. Your own train arrived two minutes later and you climbed aboard, finding a seat somewhere in second class, your smile remaining long after your cheeks began to hurt.// <span class="next"><<button "Then Gabriel." "gabriel">><</button>></span>

<<set $meet_jordan to true>>By the time you got some one on one time with Jordan, you'd become a regular support-group-meeting attendee, much to the therapists delight. //You'd stayed behind late one meeting, after a particularly long and surprisingly pleasant meeting, to help Jordan clean up the room. There wasn't much to do really, you only had to pack away the folding chairs and clear the table but still you dragged your feet. You were almost finished when Jordan cleared $jordan_his throat and you glanced at $jordan_him briefly as you picked up the last folding chair. "I didn't really get to ask during the meeting but how are you doing?" You felt $jordan_his eyes on your back, intense and unwavering, and you had to suppress a shiver. "Fine," you told $jordan_him just as you placed the chair on top of the stack, stood neatly off to the side, ready for a new group to meet. Still feeling $jordan_his eyes on you, you turned to look at $jordan_him and winced slightly at $jordan_his raised eyebrow and the unconvinced expression stretched across the smooth skin of $jordan_his face. "Is that really the answer you're going with?" $jordan_He stood tall in front of you, hands clasped behind $jordan_his back as $jordan_he waited patiently for your reply. You... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nodded. "Yes, and I mean it." //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'jordan-1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">shrugged. "I guess so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'jordan-2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">tensed up. "That\'s how I feel." //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'jordan-3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>//He didn't need to speak if he didn't want to, and it didn't make you enjoy his company any less, if anything, it made it better. Not having to think of words to fill the empty space between you, worrying whether it was the right thing to say, wondering if you should've said something else instead - those things could get annoying after a while, but the lack of verbal communication allowed you to relax into your thoughts without being bothered by the fact that you virtually knew nothing about him besides his name and diagnosis - though the slight yellowing of his tan skin gave away his liver failure long before it was ever revealed to you through Jordan's prying. Still, standing next to him in the café in the slow moving queue, you //wanted// to talk to him, to maybe get to know more about him than the few pitiful facts you already knew. You glanced up at him again, this time his eyes meeting yours, and he offered you the smallest of smiles, you might not have noticed the slight curl of his lips at all if you weren't looking directly at him, and you cleared your throat, your own smile following not long after. "Have you decided what you want to get?" You asked and his grey eyes flicked away from you to the menu board, scanning over the dozens of options listed. He furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly overwhelmed by the variety of drinks on offer, before nodding slowly - though he still looked conflicted. "Just-" the first time he'd ever spoken to you directly was cut off when his voice came out soft and cracked, and he was forced to clear his throat, coughing slightly into his fist before trying again. "Just a peppermint tea," he told you and you nodded, still in awe of the deep baritone of his voice. Of course you'd heard him speak before so it wasn't any shock really to hear him do so then but for some reason, you found yourself charmed by it not. Perhaps it was because for the first time, the words were meant just for you instead of the group. Words, though few, spoken just for your ears and your ears only. Before you even knew it, you were at the front of line, the barista asking you what you wanted and you recited the list of orders everyone had prattled off before you left, finishing off with Gabriel's peppermint tea. You threw him another bright smile, watching as he quickly averted his eyes, the tips of his ears turning red, and two of you left the café together with seven cups of variating caffeinated drinks in hand.// <span class="next"><<button "Next was Jordan." "jordan">><</button>></span>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>//Or rather, if you're truly being honest with yourself, you didn't actually care about it. Whether he talks or not is not anything that has any real effect on you, conversation in general is just something to fill the space and if Gabriel doesn't want to participate, so be it; you're certainly not going to crucify him for it, let alone force him to communicate. You simply let him be. You glanced up at him again, this time his eyes meeting yours, and he offered you the smallest of smiles, you might not have noticed the slight curl of his lips at all if you weren't looking directly at him, and you cleared your throat, your own smile following not long after. "Know what you want to get?" You asked and his grey eyes flicked away from you to the menu board, scanning over the dozens of options listed. He furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly overwhelmed by the variety of drinks on offer, before nodding slowly - though he still looked conflicted. "Just-" the first time he'd ever spoken to you directly was cut off when his voice came out soft and cracked, and he was forced to clear his throat, coughing slightly into his fist before trying again. "Just a peppermint tea," he told you and you nodded, somewhat surprised by his choice. //He just doesn't seem like the type//, you thought to youtself. Before you even knew it, you were at the front of line, the barista asking you what you wanted and you recited the list of orders everyone had prattled off before you left, finishing off with Gabriel's peppermint tea. You shared an simple smile and two whole seconds of eye contact, and two of you left the café together with seven cups of variating caffeinated drinks in hand.// <span class="next"><<button "Next was Jordan." "jordan">><</button>></span>

<<set $meet_gabriel to true>>You got to know about Gabriel, the tall, silent mystery of a man, when the two of you were sent on a coffee run for the group after everyone - including the ever diplomatic Jordan - complained about the in-house brew the community centre provided you with. Though you use the term 'know' extremely loosely. //You stood in the queue at the second closest café - the first having too low a rating to appease Adelaide's absurdly high standards - with Gabriel's hulking presence just one tiny step behind you, close enough for you to smell the aftershave wafting off his skin. You glanced up at him, found him looking around the café with intrigue, and wondered how to have a conversation with the man. If you learnt anything from your attendance at the meetings so far, you knew he would never start speaking on his own, even Jordan struggled to get anything out of him on a good day, so the chance of you having more success than that was minimal at best. In truth, his silence... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">comforted you. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'gabriel-1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">didn\'t bother you //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'gabriel-2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">annoyed you. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'gabriel-3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>><<if $mother is true>>//You remember your mother telling you over and over again, truly drilling it into your head, that //'if you can't say something nice, don't anything at all'// - a saying that Adelaide clearly has never lived her life by but definitely should - and even though you haven't always done your best to follow through with it, it has always been in the back of your mind, the words echoing back to you in your mother's delicate albeit reprimanding voice.//<</if>><<if $grandfather is true>>//You remember your grandfather telling you, somehow conveying how deathly serious he was through sign alone, that //'if you can't say something nice, don't anything at all'// - a saying that Adelaide clearly has never lived her life by but definitely should - and even though you haven't always done your best to follow through with it, it has always been in the back of your mind, the words brought to life through very aggressive sign language.//<</if>><<if $brother is true>>//You remember being taught alongside Sutton the cardinal rule that //'if you can't say something nice, don't anything at all'// - a saying that Adelaide clearly has never lived her life by but definitely should. This was, obviously, back when everyone else that cared about you was still alive and able teach you such things, and even though you haven't always done your best to follow through with it, it has always been in the back of your mind, the words echoing back to you in voices belonging to those long gone from this world.//<</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>>//You remember one of the rules to always be followed in the orphanage was that //'if you can't say something nice, don't anything at all'// - a saying that Adelaide clearly has never lived her life by but definitely should - and it was drilled into you and all the other children by the nuns that worked there. Asra, naturally, rarely paid attention to this rule when sticking up for the both of you and you... well, you were much the same but it has always been in the back of your mind, the words echoing back to you in what you've come to deem as the voice of God.//<</if>><<if $derek is true>>//You remember being sent home early from pre-school after making another child cry when you insulted them for some reason or other - the details are foggy - and Derek, on the drive home, told you, very nonchalantly, that //'if you can't say something nice, don't anything at all'// - a saying that Adelaide clearly has never lived her life by but definitely should - in a tone that suggested he didn't particularly care for the saying himself, but was telling it to you as an act of parenting. And even though you haven't always done your best to follow through with it, it has always been in the back of your mind, the words echoing back to you in that same nonchalant tone of your guardian.//<</if>> //Perhaps this why Gabriel's silence disturbed you so much because for what other reason would he be so quiet than the fact that he doesn't have anything nice to say about you or anyone else in the group? To say you were angry with him was a bit of a stretch - after all, he hadn't actually said anything, let alone done something to insult you - but you were far from pleased with the situation. You'd rather he just say whatever's on his mind, nice or not, than keep all his thoughts and secrets locked away in his mind. You glanced up at him again, this time his eyes meeting yours, and he offered you the smallest of smiles, you might not have noticed the slight curl of his lips at all if you weren't looking directly at him, but even with this minimal act of kindness, you'd already given up on trying to be friends him without bothering to try in the first place and you turned away from him. You couldn't be sure, not without looking at him anyway, but you could've sworn you felt him shrink back behind you and that his hulking presence wasn't so hulking anymore. You didn't have much time to think about what you'd done or what his reaction could mean because, before you even knew it, you were at the front of line, the barista asking you what you wanted and you were forced to recite the list of orders everyone had prattled off before you left. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe it meant everything, but the two of you left the café together with seven cups of variating caffeinated drinks and the thought never crossed your mind again.// <span class="next"><<button "Next was Jordan." "jordan">><</button>></span>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $j_ship to Math.clamp($j_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>//"Pinky promise," you added just before reaching your hand out with an outstretched pinky. Jordan looked at you for a moment, seemingly deciding if you were being honest with $jordan_him or not before a slow smile spread across $jordan_his face and $jordan_he approached you, hooking $jordan_his pinky around yours. "That's good," $jordan_he said just before letting your hand go. "And your symptoms? How are you dealing with those?" Your mind flicked briefly to that morning when you felt so nauseous you couldn't get out of bed for the better half of an hour, and later at work when you couldn't for the life of you remember where you left your cell phone, only to find it hours later sitting in the communal fridge. It's not all that pleasant to deal with but you don't exactly have a choice in the matter and armed with the medicine your doctor prescribed to help lessen your symptoms, you're doing your best. You lifted your shoulders, pressing your lips into a thin line as you looked at $jordan_him. "As well as I can." Even then, you could feel the beginnings a migraine building behind your eyes. //The shittest luck of the draw//, you thought to yourself. $jordan_He nodded thoughtfully, $jordan_his hands returning to their position behind $jordan_his back. "I suppose that's as much as I can ask for," $jordan_he said, offering you a kind albeit clinical smile. Then, glancing around the room, all neat and tidy thanks to your joint efforts, $jordan_he nodded again. "I do believe we've earned our ticket out of here," $jordan_he said as $jordan_he looked at you. "Thank you for your help, $name; I appreciate it." "You're welcome," you replied softly. "I'll see you next week." You nodded your agreement and after collecting your jacket and walking out together in a not-too-uncomfortable silence, you said your goodbyes and parted ways, making sure to stop at the pharmacy for some paracetamol before taking the train home.// <span class="next"><<button "After $jordan_him was Kade." "kade">><</button>></span>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $j_ship to Math.clamp($j_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>//$jordan_He looked at you for a long moment before clicking $jordan_his tongue, a sound you thought was a subpar replacement for a scoff. "You can do better that, $name," $jordan_he said and you nodded, more to yourself than $jordan_him, almost as if to convince yourself that you can actually do better. Seemingly sensing your uncertainty, $jordan_he stepped closer to you and offered you a reassuring smile. "How about I make it easier for you?" With no other information provided to you, a frown tugged at the corners of your mouth but you nodded yet again, trusting that Jordan knew better than you did. $jordan_He chuckled, amused. "Don't look so petrified, $name; it's nothing bad. I thought it might be easier if instead of asking you to describe to me how you're feeling, we use a numerical rating scale." Another quick smile, a momentary flash of polished teeth. "So, $name; on a scale of one to ten, with one being absolutely terrible and ten being the best you've ever been, how are you feeling today?" You paused, thinking about it for a moment as your mind flicked briefly to that morning when you felt so nauseous you couldn't get out of bed for the better half of an hour, and later at work when you couldn't for the life of you remember where you left your cell phone, only to find it hours later sitting in the communal fridge. It's not all that pleasant to deal with but you don't exactly have a choice in the matter and armed with the medicine your doctor prescribed to help lessen your symptoms, you're doing your best. You lifted your shoulders, pressing your lips into a thin line as you looked at $jordan_him, unsure of whether $jordan_his scale was meant for how you felt mentally, physically or emotionally but deciding to go with all of the above, and trusted that your mouth would say a number. "Maybe... six." You felt fine, 'fine' being an all-encompassing word, but you knew it wouldn't last. Even then, you could feel the beginnings a migraine building behind your eyes. //The shittest luck of the draw//, you thought to yourself. $jordan_He nodded thoughtfully, $jordan_his hands returning to their position behind $jordan_his back. "I suppose that's about as good I can expect you to be in your circumstance." $jordan_he said, offering you a kind albeit clinical smile. Then, glancing around the room, all neat and tidy thanks to your joint efforts, $jordan_he nodded again. "I do believe we've earned our ticket out of here," $jordan_he said as $jordan_he looked at you. "Thank you for your help, $name; I appreciate it." "You're welcome," you replied softly. "I'll see you next week." You nodded your agreement and after collecting your jacket and walking out together in a not-too-uncomfortable silence, you said your goodbyes and parted ways, making sure to stop at the pharmacy for some paracetamol before taking the train home.// <span class="next"><<button "After $jordan_him was Kade." "kade">><</button>></span>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>//With a heavy sigh, $jordan_he clicked $jordan_his tongue at you disapprovingly. "If you're going to try convince me that you're fine, $name, sounding angry while you do so simply won't do the trick." $jordan_He stepped forward until $jordan_he stood in front of you, not quite chest to chest but very close. "I'll ask again: how are you feeling?" You glared at $jordan_him, no longer wanting to be a part of this of conversation. "Why do you care so much?" $jordan_He raised an eyebrow at you as if the answer was obvious, which it technically was. "It's my job to care, $name." "I don't recall ever hiring you," you told $jordan_him, your tone bitter. You didn't know where all of this emotion was stemming from or how long it had been builing up inside of you, but Jordan was apparently the very unfortunate recipient of the brunt of it. $jordan_He hummed, spurred on by your fire. "I certainly recall you showing up here one meeting," $jordan_he said and you looked away to avoid $jordan_his dark, intense eyes. "You wouldn't be standing here if you didn't want someone to care about you, $nickname." You shifted on your feet then, suddenly uncomfortable with the soft underlying tone of $jordan_his voice, and you reached for your jacket. "We're done here right? I can go?" It wasn't exactly a question, more so a desparate plea to be released from this interaction, but Jordan nodded nonetheless as if you ever needed $jordan_his permission to go in the first place. "Thank you for you help," $jordan_he said as you moved towards the exit, struggling to pull your jacket on in your hurry. "I appreciate it." You nodded, not so much as looking back at $jordan_him or saying goodbye, you just left. And with the beginnings of a migraine building behind your eyes, you made to stop at the pharmacy for some paracetamol before taking the next train home.// <span class="next"><<button "After $jordan_him was Kade." "kade">><</button>></span>

<<set $meet_kade to true>>//You found yourself alone with him when you arrived uncharacteristically early for a meeting. He sat by himself in one of the chairs, slouched down to rest his head on the back of it, staring at the ceiling, wearing the same style of baggy clothes. His coffee coloured sneakers looked new though. You sat next to him, leaving one chair in between the two of you in case he felt uncomfortable at the close proximity. You didn't know Kade very well - or at all really, except for his leukemia and fondness for annoying Jordan - but he tended to steer clear from getting close to anyone in the group, both physically and emotionally as it seems. You chanced a glance at him as you began to shrug off your jacket and at that same moment, he rolled his head to the side to meet your eyes. "Hey, $name," he said, his smile bright and, you thought, put on just for you, and you nodded in greeting. "How's your head?" <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You grinned at him. "I haven\'t had any complaints." //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'kade-1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You gave him a half-shrug. "It\'s still attached to me, at least." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'kade-2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You glared at him before looking away. "Fine." //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'kade-3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $k_ship to Math.clamp($k_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>//At that, he laughed, loud and full bodied, his hand clutched to his chest, and you think it must be genuine. He looked at you, amused, and tossed an arm out to nudge your shoulder. "Come up with that all by yourself, $surname?" He asked, the last of his laughter still ringing in the air. "And here I was thinking that the tumor was gonna make you unfunny." "I wouldn't go that far," you said, your smile widening slightly. "Let's see where I'm at in three months." He nods, that look of amusement still on his face. "Nah, I think you'll have it 'til the end." At some other point in your life, sometime in the past, you might've cringed at the mention of 'the end', you're too young to die, too young to have to deal with such a thing, but hearing Kade say the words, there and then, you didn't feel so bad about it. Maybe you'd come to accept your fate by then or it was just the fact that Kade's dying too, the reason doesn't matter necessarily. Only the outcome. "Thanks, Kade," you said and it was at that moment that everyone else walked in, as if they were just outside, waiting for your short conversation to end, an end they've seemingly decided for you. Kade sat up, tipping his head down at you in the process, before looking away from you and at the rest of the group, his hazel eyes latching onto Jordan and a new teasing remark rolling off his tongue. He didn't look at you again, not for the rest of the meeting, not even after. //The end came too soon//, you couldn't help but think. It can't come soon enough.// <span class="next"><<button "And lastly, Margaret." "margaret">><</button>></span>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $k_ship to Math.clamp($k_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>//"Thank god for that," he said, chuckling softly. "I'm not sure how much Jordan would appreciate having a headless corpse at a meeting." You hummed in agreement, incapable of coming up something to say that could further the conversation. Truth be told, you were happier to just sit in silence, you didn't know exactly how stimulating a conversation with you could be after all, <<if $impassive < 30>>not then at least, not when you felt so// blah.//<</if>><<if $impassive > 30>>if you'd learnt anything over the years, you were almost always the least interesting person in the room.<</if>> When the silence began to stretch into the borders of awkward and uncomfortable, Kade raised a curiosu eyebrow at you, hazel eyes scanning your face for something that he could work with, something he might be spin and turn into words that might light a spark within you. You knew he wouldn't find anything of the sort. "So," he started, wracking his brain for something to say so hard that you physically saw the struggle painted across the features of his young, tired face, but it was obvious he'd hit a dead end. He tried at least, you can say that much. It was at that moment that everyone else walked in, as if they were just outside, waiting for your extremely short conversation to end, an end they've seemingly (and thankfully) decided for you. Kade sat up, tipping his head down at you in the process, before looking away from you and at the rest of the group, his hazel eyes latching onto Jordan and a new teasing remark rolling off his tongue. He didn't look at you again, not for the rest of the meeting, not even after, not that you could fault him for it. //Always the problem//, you couldn't help but think. Never the soltuion.// <span class="next"><<button "And lastly, Margaret." "margaret">><</button>></span>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>//He raised an eyebrow at you before nodding slowly, his arms crossing over his chest. "Sorry I asked," he conceded, shrugging, his hazel eyes scanning your face critically. "We don't have to talk but you did choose to sit next to me, just pointing that out." You looked at him for a long moment, his own hazel eyes staring back into yours with an emotion you couldn't even begin to name, but you slowly pulled your gaze away. Wordlessly, you stood up and walked across the circle of chairs to slide into the one directly opposite you. "Sure, that works too," he said, the chuckle that followed eerily flat and hearing the mirthless sound in his lilting voice chilled you to your core. <<if $aggressive < 30>>"Do you often run from your emotions, $name, or is that a new developement?" At that, you narrowed your eyes at him. Is that what he thinks? Is that what you //do//? "What?" you grumbled, your tone edging into something dangerous. He raised a curious eyebrow at you as if he couldn't understand why you couldn't see yourself in his eyes, why you couldn't see yourself for who you evidently are. "Guess it's not my place," he said slowly, choosing his words, skirting around the ones he wanted to say and the ones he should've. "Jordan's the professional, here. I bet $jordan_he $jordan_has all sorts of fun with you." "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You questioned for a second whether you should have allowed him to see your anger, but you thought otherwise because hey; anger's an emotion too and you have plenty of that to go around, for now at least. He shrugged, a stupid smile lifting his cheeks that you could tell he didn't truly mean. He never does. "You know," he replied. "I'm not telling you anything you don't know."<</if>><<if $aggressive > 30>>"Anything to avoid showing your true emotions, right?" At that, you narrowed your eyes at him. Is that what he thinks? Is that what you //do//? "What?" you grumbled, your tone edging into something dangerous. He raised a curious eyebrow at you as if he couldn't understand why you couldn't see yourself in his eyes, why you couldn't see yourself for who you evidently are. "I have eyes, $name," he said slowly, choosing his words, skirting around the ones he wanted to say and the ones he should've. "Ears too. It's kind of a package deal." "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You questioned for a second whether you should have allowed him to see your anger, but you thought otherwise because hey; anger's an emotion too and you have plenty of that to go around, red hot, simmering just below the surface, ready to blow at a moment's notice. He shrugged, a stupid smile lifting his cheeks that you could tell he didn't truly mean. He never does. "You know," he replied. "I'm not telling you anything you don't know."<</if>> It was then, at that very moment, that everyone else walked in, as if they were just outside, waiting for your short conversation to end, an end they've seemingly decided for you. Kade sat up, tipping his head down at you in the process, before looking away from you and at the rest of the group, his hazel eyes latching onto Jordan and a new teasing remark rolling off his tongue. He didn't look at you again, not for the rest of the meeting, not even after. //I know//, you couldn't help but think. I know too much.// <span class="next"><<button "And lastly, Margaret." "margaret">><</button>></span>

Margaret... how do you even begin to describe Margaret? The old woman is strange, eclectic, more than a little kooky and, as previously discovered, a fantastic baker. If you had met her anywhere else or at any other time in your life, you'd have said that she was a loose canon in desperate need of being institutionalised, but given the condition of everyone in attendance, yourself included, you think her... //unique// outlook on life is warranted. //She apprached you at the very beginning of a meeting, before Jordan had even made an appearance, with a box of cookies, decorated with varying designs, some discernible, most not, and a friendly smile on her face. "Have a cookie, dear!" She said, thrusting the box into your hands before you could even say you wanted one, and nodded at you encouragingly. "They may not cure cancer but they're bloody good nonetheless." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You smiled at her, "Thank you." //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'margaret-1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You wordlessly took one. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'margaret-2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You grunted at her, "No thanks." //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'margaret-3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $me_ship to Math.clamp($me_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>//She watched you with the eager anticipation of a child on Christmas morning but she didn't have to wait for your reaction very long because as soon as the sweet and buttery taste of the cookie melted on your tongue, your face lit up and you grinned at her. "These are delicious, Margaret!" "I know," she said, beaming at your compliment before taking one for herself and biting into happily. "My sons say I bake too much for it to be good for my health but they never listened to me when they were young, so I think it's only fair that I repay the favour." She finished off the rest of her cookie in thoughtful silence before her bright eyes flicked back to your face and she decided she had more to say. "And in any case, I'm already dying, it's not like my health can get worse." You almost choked on your cookie at the laugh that bubbled up and out of your mouth but that didn't stop the old woman from taking another cookie from the tin and shoving it in your hands. "Have another, dear," she said as she began to walk away from you, seemingly finished with your conversation despite you still being very much in the middle of it. "If you want more, you know where to find them!" You stifled another laugh as you watched her walk away to the confectionary table to place the tin on top of it before getting pulled into another conversation by a miserable looking Adelaide. Shaking your head, you went to find a seat for yourself where you happily ate your second cookie and waited for Jordan's imminent arrival in peace. It was going to be a good meeting, for sure...// <span class="next"><<button "Next" "c1p2 back 2 present">><</button>></span>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $me_ship to Math.clamp($me_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>//She stared at you imploring while you ate and you stopped mid-chew, momentarily unsure of why before it finally clicked: she wanted a review. Rushing to finish, you gulped down your mouthful and nodded at her. "It's good," you told her. She hummed, seemingly unconvinced that you really did like the cookie, and gave you an appraising look. "You need to work on your 'it's good' face, my dear," she said and your eyebrows shot up in surprise at her comment, which she was quick to wave off. "I believe you, $name, I truly do, but// this --//" she gestured to your apparently lacklustre facial expression, "-- isn't very convincing to the average person." "Oh?" You said, quiet and unsure of yourself because what else were you supposed to say in response, and she gave you a bright smile. "You need to show the audience how it tastes and how you feel about it," she explained and you frowned, confused and stuck on her use of the term 'audience', but she continued on as if it made perfect sense. "You can't always rely on words, you must use your face to show your delight and pleasure. Think of the face you make when you reach climax." You were glad to not have taken a second cookie because choking on your own spit was already less than pleasant, and you gawked at the old woman as you tried to gather yourself once more. She made a sound in the back of her throat that you thought meant she disapproved of your reaction. "My dear, whoever you're sleeping with is not doing a very good job if that's how you usually react." You frowned at her, confused at how she could've possibly come to such a conclusion, but your attempt to defend yourself - "That's not--" - was quickly cut short by her raised, wrinkled hand. "No need to explain, dear, I understand completely," she told you, waving her hand as if to shoo your words away and out of the air. "I too felt unsatisfied sexually for a while in my youth." She then shook the tin of cookies. "If you'd like more of these, you know where to find them!" Again you attempted to say something in return, a complete sentence at the very least, but she was already walking away from you, humming happily as she approached the convectionary table to deposit the cookies before getting pulled away into another conversation by a miserable looking Adelaide. Definitely the most strange interaction you've had with anyone before, not even just within the group, but you shook your head, trying to get rid of the shocked and confused feeling and accidentally spurring a migraine into action instead. With a sigh in your throat and a throbbing in your skull, you found a seat and attempted to make yourself as small as possible. It was going to be a very interesting meeting...// <span class="next"><<button "Next" "c1p2 back 2 present">><</button>></span>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>//"Oh, you// youths//," she'd said with an exaggerated roll of her crystalline eyes, her wide and slightly manic smile momentarily replaced with a feigned disgusted curl of her lips. "Always such health freaks." You frowned at her, confused at how she could've possibly come to such a conclusion, but your attempt to defend yourself - "I'm not--" - was quickly cut short by her raised, wrinkled hand. "No need, dear," she told you, waving her hand as if to shoo your words away and out of the air. She then shook the tin of cookies. "These certainly won't kill you any faster than that tumor of yours will but I respect your choice!" Again you attempted to say something in return, a complete sentence at the very least, but she was already walking away from you, humming happily as she approached the convectionary table to deposit the cookies before getting pulled away into another conversation by a miserable looking Adelaide. Definitely the most strange interaction you've had with anyone before, not even just within the group, but you shook your head, trying to get rid of the confused feeling and accidentally spurring a migraine into action instead. With a sigh in your throat and a throbbing in your skull, you found a seat and attempted to make yourself as small as possible. It was going to be a long meeting...// <span class="next"><<button "Next" "c1p2 back 2 present">><</button>></span>

<<set $month to "three">>Despite what you may think of them, these people are now your family, a part of your now horrendously short life whether you like it or not, and you've come to realise that you need them more than you thought you could need a group of terminally ill people (and Jordan too, of course). Which is perhaps what keeps you coming back every meeting, the feeling of belonging and perhaps of being needed too - though for what, you can't be sure. Jordan claps $jordan_his hands suddenly and you blink, your mind clearing and bringing you back down to earth to where you sit in between the therapist and Gabriel. "Right, who's next?" $jordan_He asks, looking around at the six of you, waiting for someone to step up and tell everyone everything that's on their mind, all the while you attempt to recall who had been talking previously. You think it might've been Kade by the teasing smile he wears but that's not a very clear clue to go on, given it's perpetual resting place on his face whenever Jordan's around. "Adelaide?" The therapist urges. "You look like you have something to say." You follow $jordan_his eyeline to the redhead and agree that she does indeed look like she has something to say, though from previous experience, you guess it's nothing good. She rolls her eyes, perhaps more reflexively than actually feeling the need to do so, as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't want to be here," she grumbles, as is typical for the woman, and Jordan nods in understanding. "Where would you rather be?" To you the answer seems obvious, perhaps because it is, yet you still look at Adelaide curiously, who does an excellent job of ignoring the eyes on her, as you wait for her reply. "Literally anywhere else," she replies, each word spaced out in order to place specific emphasis on each of them, and you nod along slowly. At least she's consistent. <<nobr>>"Then," Hayden says, speaking up suddenly. "Why don't you leave?" <span class="next"><<button "Next" "c1p2 roadtrip">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

Adelaide snaps her ice cold glard towards the brunette. //"What?"// All at once, Hayden has all eyes on $hayden_him and $hayden_he blinks momentarily before a bright smile takes over $hayden_his surprise at being the sudden centre of attention. "If you don't want to be here, then you should go somewhere else," $hayden_he explains. "Somewhere you're actually happy to be." Adelaide frowns and drops her eyes to the ground, as if she hadn't ever thought of herself as being happy anywhere, the idea so far out of reach it's simply inconceivable. She shakes her head slightly, thin lips twisting into a pout. "I don't... that's not... shut the fuck up, Hayden," she grumbles as she slouches down in her seat. "You don't know what you're talking about." Hayden simply smiles at her in return as $hayden_he sits up straighter, almost an exact opposite image of the redhead sitting across from $hayden_him. "Well, I'm not saying you should go alone," $hayden_he says. "We could all go with you." "Like a roadtrip?" Kade asks quickly, the excitement evident in his voice and despite yourself, you can't help the amused smile that breaks out on your face. Hayden nods, $hayden_his own excitement growing in the light of Kades. "Yeah, exactly." Jordan is quick to express $jordan_his concern about a group of terminally ill people going on a trip together but you're no longer listening to the conversation bouncing back and forth around you. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You love the idea of a roadtrip.</div>' 'c1p2 roadtrip genuine'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Going on a roadtrip makes you feel uneasy.</div>' 'c1p2 roadtrip impassive'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100)>>Being together with everyone, traveling, seeing the sights, finding your place, forgetting momentarily that you're going to die in three months - you think that sounds exactly like what you need, not quite what the doctor ordered because all he'd given you was a prescription for paracetamol and anti-nausea meds, but something very close. You refocus on the moment at hand when you hear your name and you look up to find everyone looking at you intently, as if you hold all the answers in the world. You blink, confused, before opening your mouth to speak. "What? Sorry, I zoned out there." A light hearted laugh comes from Hayden's chair and you turn your attention to $hayden_him. "Just asking what you think, $nickname," $hayden_he says simply. "Are you up for a trip?" <<nobr>>There's no stopping the smile that stretches across your face from ear to ear, even if you wanted to. "Definitely," you say and you're met with four equally bright faces, with Adelaide looking less miserable than she previously did and Jordan looking unconvinced by the idea. <span class="next"><<button "\"When do we leave?\"" "c1p2 on the train">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100)>>Being away from the place you feel most comfortable, your home, your person, doesn't quite settle the uneasiness in your stomach quite like you imagine it should. You don't know if that's really how you want to spend your last three months, in which you presumably will get weaker and weaker, the stress of a roadtrip only exascerbating that, but you have to look at the other side of things too. You don't want to be left with the group, left to die without the people who understand you by yourself. Despite your uncertainty about the whole thing, the thought of being alone is much, much worse. You refocus on the moment at hand when you hear your name and you look up to find everyone looking at you intently, as if you hold all the answers in the world. You blink, confused, before opening your mouth to speak. "What? Sorry, I zoned out there." A light hearted laugh comes from Hayden's chair and you turn your attention to $hayden_him. "Just asking what you think, $nickname," $hayden_he says simply. "Are you up for a trip?" <<nobr>>You offer up a small smile, one you think isn't as convincing as it shiuld be. "Yeah, sure," you say and you're met with four smiling faces, smiles a lot brighter than yours, with Adelaide looking less miserable than she previously did and Jordan looking unconvinced by the idea. <span class="next"><<button "\"When do we leave?\"" "c1p2 on the train">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

The answer to your question, apparently, was now, which is why you're currently on your way home where you'll need to pack a bag for your trip. It all feels a bit surreal; one moment, you're merely discussing the idea, the possibility of going away on some roadtrip together and the next, you're preparing to leave. No time like the present, you guess. Not when your days are so numbered. Next to you is... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Adelaide</div>' 'adelaide 4 (train)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Hayden</div>' 'hayden 4 (train)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">Gabriel</div>' 'gabriel 4 car'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $go_with_adelaide to true>>You don't recall exactly how the two of you wound up paired together, only that it meant you found yourself on the back of her motorcycle, your arms wrapped all too tight around her waist as she drove to her tiny apartment in the middle of the city. She'd even let you use her helmet. You sat on her couch, the oak coffee table pressing hard into your knees as you, somewhat patiently, waited for Adelaide to finish packing. You hadn't realised just how serious she was when she said the apartment was small but seeing it for yourself, surrounded by furniture fitting a living room, dining room and kitchen all packed into one tiny space, made you wonder how she found the room to breathe in there. Thankfully, you weren't forced to wait too long for her to emerge from what you could only assume was an even smaller bedroom, and soon you were on the way to the train station, an upset look on the redhead's face at having to part ways with her bike. You glance at her when you hear her sigh and find her watching the overhead board displaying the next stop. "Where'd you say you live again?" She grumbles, apparently annoyed with you already for living so far away - from her own apartment, from the community centre; you're not sure what specifically, just that it's nowhere close enough to where she wants it to be. Your eyes flick back up to the board, mentally ticking off the number of stops left to go. "Just one more stop," you tell her, hoping that it's enough to assuage her annoyance. She huffs but doesn't say any more as she crosses her arms over her chest and you begin to wonder how she'll react to your place of residence. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in an apartment in the city with a roommate you met online.</div>' 'adelaide 5 (apartment)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a two bedroom house in the suburbs.</div>' 'adelaide 7 (house)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a houseboat by the docks.</div>' 'adelaide 6 (house boat)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a mobile home at the trailer park.</div>' 'adelaide 8 (rv)'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $apartment to true>>Not terribly unlike Adelaide's in that the space is perhaps all too small for its residents, being you and a man you are almost certain is a drug lord, but for some reason it feels a lot more spacious and for that you're grateful. You'd only spent about ten minutes in the redhead's apartment and you were already ready to pull all your hair out; you can't imagine living there full time. The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and she grumbles something you can't quite make out but what you assume to be along the lines of thanking the lord above. It's not a very long walk from the station to your apartment block but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a factor that seems to go unappreciated by Adelaide if the soft out-of-breath huffs coming from her place a step behind you is anything to go by and you slow down, remembering her cancer diagnosis. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you turn onto your street and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Adelaide watching you sceptically as you lead her towards your building. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "adelaide 5 (apartment) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $boat to true>>A curious place to live, or so you've been told by everyone you know. You can't say you know what drew you to the water in the first place but whatever it is, you're grateful it did. It has the quiet charm of an abandoned building, or perhaps a forgotten temple; you don't know which but you find it oddly welcoming. Living on the water comes with a serenity you hadn't known how much you'd need when you first bought it and you like the way the waves lap against the hull in the dead of night, soothing you to sleep, and how the wind whips past your ears and makes you feel like you're the only person alive in the universe. The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and she grumbles something you can't quite make out but what you assume to be along the lines of thanking the lord above. It's not a very long walk from the station to the docks but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a factor that seems to go unappreciated by Adelaide if the soft out-of-breath huffs coming from her place a step behind you is anything to go by and you slow down, remembering her cancer diagnosis. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you can hear the lapping water and the squawking seagulls, you can smell the salt in the air and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Adelaide watching you sceptically as you led her down the docks. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Adelaide looks up at the floating house, her blue eyes ablaze with mistrust as if convinced it will sink into the depths of the water at any moment. "Uh huh." You follow her eyes to the house and smile. It's a two-storey structure sitting atop a large, white riverboat consisting of a bedroom, bathroom, living space and kitchen. You've made a lot of renovations to it since you bought it some ten years ago and it's come a long way from what it to be; rusted, unliveable and downright hideous to look at. Now it's something you can be proud of. You look back to the woman standing next to you and when you see she still looks unsure about stepping aboard, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">reassure her. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'adelaide 6 (house boat) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave her be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'adelaide 6 (house boat) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise her. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'adelaide 6 (house boat) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>You nudge her shoulder, forcing her to look at you before offering her a soft smile. "It's safe, I promise," you say and she once more looks at the houseboat in uncertainty. "You can wait out here if you'd prefer." She's quick to shake her head. "No, it's fine." The words tumble out of her mouth in a rush and she winces before shaking herself out of it, her usual scowl slipping back into place on her gaunt face. "But if you tell anyone I hesitated, you won't have to worry about the brain tumor killing you." <<nobr>>"Threat received and noted," you tell her with a slow nod before turning towards your house, pulling your keys from your pocket as you step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and her ice cold eyes snap to you. "I won't take long," you say and she furrows her eyebrows slightly as if disappointed you're not inviting her in but the emotion is gone just as fast as it appeared. "It's fine," she huffs, arms crossed over her chest and bottom lip stuck outward in a pout, her usual scowl slipping back into place on her gaunt face. "Let's just make this quick." <<nobr>>"You got it," you tell her with a slow nod before turning towards your house, pulling your keys from your pocket as you step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes, a scoff leaving your mouth and forcing her cold eyes to snap to your face. "Don't tell me the big, bad Adelaide is scared," you say, your voice taking on a patronising tone and she glares at you. She's quick to shake her head. "No," she growls, her usual scowl slipping back into place on her gaunt face. "But if you tell anyone I hesitated, you won't have to worry about the brain tumor killing you." <<nobr>>"Yeah, whatever," you mutter before turning towards your house, pulling your keys from your pocket as you step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

Derek narrows his eyes at you, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket as he leans his hip against the island counter. "Sorry," he says, though it's obvious to you that he's not sorry at all, his tone of voice lacking any real conviction. "If it's any consolation, I did knock." "That would make me feel better if you hadn't broken in immediately after." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." "Well deserved, I think," he shrugs, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Since you've been avoiding me for a month." Adelaide clears her throat and you're suddenly reminded of her presence as you glance at her. "You know, I think I'll wait outside after all." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as she pulls the front door shut behind her before returning your attention to the man that raised you. "Alright; talk," he instructs, his face suddenly serious and you arch an eyebrow up at him, for some reason expecting him to say more and unnerved when he doesn't. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|adelaide 6 (house boat) tell derek][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|adelaide 6 (house boat) dont tell derek]]

Braniac Brain Break The Brain (& Pinky) Jimmy Neutron Mojo Jojo Megamind

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. He only raises an eyebrow at you. "Only because you're making it complicated, $nickname," he states, shrugging his shoulders so nonchalantly as if to reaffirm that //yes, it really is that simple after all//. "But if you don't want to tell me, I'm not going to make you. I trust you." "You do?" You can't help the surprise from leaking into your voice, nor can you stop your face from reflecting it, but he only smiles at you in return. You should've known. "Of course," he says as he begins to fold the shirt in his hands before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "You've never given me a reason not to." The conversation ends there and you watch as he moves to fold the rest of the the clothes in the bag. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heaviness in your heart. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You'll call, right?" He asks and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. "No more radio silence?" You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his jacket. He smells of fresh cut grass and a body wash strangely titled //'Jagged Ice'//, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "You should go," he says, urging you towards the door, wiping away more tears. "I've kept you long enough." "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 dont tell derek_leave">><</button>>

"//This// is where you live?" Adelaide looks up at the apartment building, her blue eyes ablaze with disbelief as if convinced that you couldn't possibly live in a place like this. "Uh huh." You follow her eyes to the building and smile. It's a four-storey structure, unassuming and squeezed in between two much larger buildings on either side of it. It's a little rundown, weeds growing up the side, the bricks cracked in a few places and almost an entirely new colour, weathered by time, but it's your home and you're happy with it, even if you do have to share with it a questionable roommate. You look back to the woman standing next to you and when you see she can't seem to tear her eyes away, that frown of hers still tugging at her lips, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge her. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'adelaide 5 (apartment) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave her be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'adelaide 5 (apartment) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise her. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'adelaide 5 (apartment) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

She marches up to you, pulling you into her warm albeit tight embrace and squeezes you like her life depends it. And you hug her back because for a second, it feels like yours does too. "You've had me so worried," she says, giving you an extra squeeze before she pulls away, looking at you with big $eye eyes and a quivering bottom lip. "Why have you been avoiding my calls? I thought you died!" You grimace at the 'D' word -- a little on the nose, you think to yourself -- before forcing yourself to relax. You may be actively dying but you're not in your grave just yet and since your sweet, darling mother doesn't exactly know that about you, it's best to at least not let it show. "I'm sorry," you tell her as you desparately try to avoid eye contact with your next sentence. "It wasn't on purpose." She's always been good at detecting when you're lying or maybe you're just a terrible liar but you'd rather not give her the opportunity to catch you in a lie in the first place. Adelaide clears her throat and you're suddenly reminded of her presence as you glance at her. "You know, I think I'll wait outside after all." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as she pulls the front door shut behind her before returning your attention to the woman that raised you. She steps away from you, settling her hands on her hips in that typical mom pose of hers, looking signifcantly more annoyed now that she's confirmed you are, in fact, alive. "What's going on?" She asks, her tone demanding and you heave as a sigh as you go to the sit on the couch. Guess there's no putting it off any longer, not with her standing in front of you, staring you down. [[Just be honest.|adelaide 6 (house boat) tell mom][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell her after all.|adelaide 6 (house boat) dont tell mom]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." When she doesn't reply you think she might not have heard you and you take a deep breath, deciding to say more and dreading what her reaction will be. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell her, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "My doctor said I've got three months." You never knew you could watch a heart break but that's all you can see as you stare up at her, the tears welling in your mother's eyes and her quivering bottom lip as she tries and fails to come up with something to say. Because you know there's nothing she //can// say. It's all she can do to fall into your arms, sobbing into your shirt as if she's already lost you, though perhaps she has. The only reason you're here is to pack a bag of essentials before whisking away on an adventure of an extremely short lifetime. You can only hug her back; you've long shed your tears, you screamed and you cried until inducing a skull splitting headache and then you cried some more, you got angry and you yelled and you punched the wall until your knuckles bled. Of course, it's easy for you, you've had a full month to reach the acceptance stage of your grief; your mother only has these short few moments with you before you're running off again, leaving her to the shattered pieces of her broken heart. You don't know long you sit there for, holding her close and giving her the comfort she needs from you, wondering if you made the right choice in telling her at all. She's never been good at handling bad news but you didn't exactly have a choice with her standing in front of you, looking at you with big, $eye eyes that have always been able to see right through you. Because if you're being painfully honest with yourself, you're not sure you would have ever worked up the courage to tell her the truth if she hadn't shown up here, at your house, demanding answers. No, you would've waited until the bitter end, when you showed up dead and cold on some mortician's table and by then it would be too late, the sorry job of informing your mother about her deceased child passed onto some other schmuck. But at least then it wouldn't have been you breaking her heart.<<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell mom">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>> She's slow to pull away from, her make-up a wreck from the tears streaming down her face and she can't quite look at you without even more welling up in her eyes. "What happens now?" she asks and her voice is shaky, as if she's mere seconds away from sobbing again, and knowing her as well as you do, that's a very real possibility. "Nothing," you tell her with a shrug of your shoulders and though she stares at you, aghast, it doesn't change the fact that it's true. "There's nothing anyone can do." "I don't believe that!" She huffs, indignant, and she's crying again, hanging onto you tightly as if she means to cure you through her touch, through pure physical force. If only it were so easy.<<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell mom">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>"There's something else," you say after a moment, prying her hands off of you as you think back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you rise to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on her face combining both alarm and confusion, she follows you to your bedroom. "Where are you going?" She demands, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a long story," you provide, and she's shaking her head before you're even able to finish speaking. "I don't care," she sobs, hysterical now. "You just told me you're going to die and now you're leaving?" Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can throw it in your bag, she forces you to look at her and it feels as though your heart stops in your chest when you get a look at her face. You've managed to ruin her in just a few short minutes, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. Again, she pleads with you, "Tell me what's going on, $name." You heave a sigh and reach out to pull the shirt from her hands which she easily lets go of, staring at each other with an all-encompassing sadness and you sink down on the bed next to your half-unpacked bag. "It's just a roadtrip," you say, and she frowns at you. "And that woman?" She asks, your mind drifting back to the redhead waiting for you. "Who is she?" "Adelaide. I met her at a support group." You hesitate for a moment, not completely sure why, you've come this far and said this much, there's no use in holding back now. "We're all going, the seven of us." Silence stretches on between you and for a moment you think that this is where it ends, this is where she demands you stay here with her, in her arms and never leaving her sight until your final breath, but then she sniffs, wipes her eyes yet again and takes the shirt back from you to fold it nicely. "I can't stop you, can I?" she says softly and you shake your head when she glances up at you and she takes a shuddering breath as she places the shirt in your bag, arbitrarily placed on top of the heap of unfolded items. "You're a lot like your father, you know. He was also a stubborn cow." Your mouth drops open, a defensive comeback locked and loaded in the back of your throat but you stop yourself when you see the amused, albeit mournful, look on her tear-streaked face. You look at each other for a long moment before you both burst in laughter and you can't deny the relief you feel as some of the tension in the air eases. You needed this, both of you, you just hope it's enough to stave the heartbreak off for just long enough. Eventually, though, the laughter stops and she looks away from you to the contents of your bag, hastily wiping at her eyes again and smearing her make-up even further. "You'll come back, won't you?" she asks and that same shaky tone is back, bringing on a wave of tears of your own. "Before you... before..." She can't bring herself to say it and you can't blame her. Thinking it is difficult already. //Before you die.// "I promise," you tell her, nodding fervently and she offers you a watery smile as she reaches over to cup your face, her thumb caressing over your cheek and wiping away a tear you hadn't even realised had fallen, and as you stare up her, you're a child once more, wanting nothing more than to be held and comforted by your mom. //Mommy,// you think. //Tell me it's going to be okay. Kiss my hurts and make them better.// Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before she finally cracks and throws her arms around you once more. "Be careful," she begs, squeezing you tighter than you thought her capable of and you wrap your arms around her in return. "I'm going to miss you so much." Echoing her sentiment, you pull away from her and with final look in her eyes and a kiss on her cheek, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what she plans to do in your house and not caring either. She can stay as long as she wants, as long as she needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 tell mom_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"Nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way she arches an eyebrow up at you, you know she's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame her. She narrows her eyes at you, a hardened look in those $eye irises of hers and you avoid looking at her directly, fearful of what she could get out of you with such a simple look. "Don't you lie to me, $name $surname," she demands and you turn your head away even further, an action that makes you seem even more guilty. She takes a deep breath when you don't reply and moves to stand in your line of vision, forcing you to look at her again. "What about that woman you came with? Little mermaid if she joined a gang?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell her, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on her face combining both concern and suspicion, she follows you to your bedroom. "Where are you going?" She demands, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a work thing," you provide and she clicks her tongue, coming to stand next to your bed with her arms crossed over her chest and when you glance at her briefly, you think you never seen her look more angry than she does now. "Why do you think it's suddenly ok to lie to me?" She asks, her voice oddly calm for the situation that's currently playing out and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at her over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "Your boss called me to ask why you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you with a huff, she snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, and she sets it down besides your bag. Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|ad.6.hb.dtm][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|ad.6.hb.dtm][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|ad.6.hb.dtm][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|ad.6.hb.dtm][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|ad.6.hb.dtm][$filmmaker to true]]

Sutton jumps, seemingly just as surprised by your appearance as you are by his, before he quickly composes himself, his surprise replaced by a look of brotherly anger that you know is supposed to intimidate you but ultimately doesn't, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Language," he scolds you and you roll your eyes, as is typical for the two of you. "Maybe don't break into my house if you don't want me to swear." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a heart attack." Sutton pouts, shifting on his feet as he looks for something to say, something to convey how he feels in this moment or maybe in general. "I wouldn't have had to break in if you hadn't been ignoring me for weeks." Adelaide clears her throat and you're suddenly reminded of her presence as you glance at her. "You know, I think I'll wait outside after all." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as she pulls the front door shut behind her before returning your attention to your older brother. "Please just tell me what's wrong," he begs, his brotherly anger morphing into brotherly sadness and you scold yourself for what you're about to put him through. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|adelaide 6 (house boat) tell bro][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|adelaide 6 (house boat) dont tell bro]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." He inhales sharply, and you watch him shift on his feet. "What do you mean?" He asks, his voice shaking with nerves, the question plain and simple, the answer anything but. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell him, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "I'm going die in three months." Time seems to slow to a stop, the silence is deafening and for a moment you think he's stopped breathing as he stares at you, mouth agape, $eye eyes wide and glossy with burgeoning tears and you feel your heart break for him. This isn't the first time he's received news like this, but it //is// the last and that's perhaps what makes it so difficult. "No," is all he manages to say, over and over as if it'll make it any less true, before he pulls you into his arms, his body shaking with sobs as he holds onto you, his grip tight and desperate. "Not you," he cries. "Why you?" You can only hug him back; you've long shed your tears, you screamed and you cried until inducing a skull splitting headache and then you cried some more, you got angry and you yelled and you punched the wall until your knuckles bled. Of course, it's easy for you, you've had a full month to reach the acceptance stage of your grief; Sutton only has these short few moments with you before you're running off again, leaving him to his heart break. You keep your arms around him, your hold on him just as tight as his on you, almost as if the two of you squeeze each other just enough, you'll get to hang on to this moment, this life, a little longer. "It's okay," you hear yourself say and it's weird to be the one doing the comforting here. You are the one that's dying after all, although whose to say that a piece of him won't die the same time you do. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell bro">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>"No, it's not," he says indignantly, pulling away from you to angrily wipe away his tears, though they're quickly replaced by more. "You're going to die! How is that at all okay?" You heave a sigh, shifting on the couch in a way that moves you away from your brother without really meaning to do so but ultimately leaves you feeling grateful for the experience. "I don't know," you reply, earnest. "I guess it's just one of the things you have to learn to be okay with." He huffs, unwillingly to accept your words as gospel and you can't exactly blame him for that. "Losing you isn't something I'll ever be okay with, $nickname. What are we going to do?" <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell bro">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>His use of 'we' makes you smile, because of course he sees this as team effort between the two of you, before your mind flicks to your companion waiting for you outside in what you imagine is a less than patient manner and you're reminded of why you came home in the first place. Jumping to your feet, you startle him halfway out of his sadness and he watches you with wide eyes as you start for your bedroom. "I have to pack," you tell him and out of the corner of your eye, you see him rush after you. "What are you talking about?" He questions, his tone demanding and panicked, watching you with wide watery eyes as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet and begin tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a long story," you provide, and he's shaking his head before you're even able to finish speaking. "You can't just tell me that you're going to die and then up and leave immediately after." Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can throw it in your bag, he forces you to look at him and it feels as though your heart stops in your chest when you get a look at his face. You've managed to ruin him in just a few short minutes, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. Again, he pleads with you, "Just talk to me. " You heave a sigh and reach out to pull the shirt from his hands which he easily lets go of, staring at each other with an all-encompassing sadness and you sink down on the bed next to your half-unpacked bag. "It's just a roadtrip," you say, and he frowns at you. "And that woman?" He asks, your mind drifting back to the redhead waiting for you. "Who is she?" "Adelaide. I met her at a support group." You hesitate for a moment, not completely sure why, you've come this far and said this much, there's no use in holding back now. "We're all going, the seven of us." You look at each other for a long moment before he sighs again. "Okay," he relents as he picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to his for a while. He looks away from you then and to the contents of your bag, his frown taking over once again. "You never could pack a bag correctly," he scolds you, pulling out the articles of clothing you'd shoved in just moments before with a disappointed shake of his head and you can't help but grin at him. "Always gotta do it for you, huh?" Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll miss you," he says, putting on a cheerful smile and tone of voice that you're able to see through immediately, though you choose not to comment on it. You're okay with him doing whatever he needs to do in order to cope and if it means acting like everything is okay, you're going to go along with it. "Don't forget to call." "I won't," you tell him as you pull him into a quick hug. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 tell bro_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"Nothing's wrong," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he arches an eyebrow up at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He crosses his arm over his chest in a huff and pouts at you, his bottom lip quivering slightly and you worry that he might cry anyway despite not even knowing the truth. "You're such a liar, $name," he grumbles, staring at you with an imploring look in his $eye eyes but you hold your ground. He's upset enough as it is; you're not about to shatter his heart beyond repair. When he realises you're not going to give in and tell him, he huffs again, throwing his arms down to his sides as he moves to sit next to you. "Fine, don't tell me. Will you at least tell me who that woman is? The one you came with?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both alarm and confusion, he rushes after you as you walk to your bedroom. "What are you talking about?" He questions, his tone demanding and panicked, watching you with wide watery eyes as you pull an empty duffel bag from the back of your closet and begin tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a work thing," you provide and out of the corner of your eye, you see his face scrunch up in anger, his hands going to his hair and tugging on the thick, $hair_colour strands. "Stop lying!" He shouts and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "$name, your boss called me; you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you, he snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, the emotion on his face incredibly raw and open, his eyes welling up as he looks at you. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. Please, $nickname, I just want to help you." Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|ad.6.hb.dtb][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|ad.6.hb.dtb][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|ad.6.hb.dtb][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|ad.6.hb.dtb][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|ad.6.hb.dtb][$filmmaker to true]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. "That's not a new concept, $name," he tells you. "Everyone's going to die." You're shaking your head before you even realise you're doing it. "I'm being serious." A deep, shuddering breath passes your lips as you glance between his face and the floor. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor; I'm going die in three months." He stares at you for a long moment, as if he simply can't comprehend what you've just told him, before he blinks and then all at once, the confusion leaves his face, his analytical eyes sharpening with crystal clear focus as he comes to sit next to you. "I'm guessing you've known for the past month." You nod as you look away from his face and somewhere at the carpet, you hear him sigh though and you wonder what's going through his mind. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, $name." "It's fine," you tell him with a shrug because even though it shouldn't be, it is, having long accepted this as your truth, your destiny, an inevitable fact of life. "No use being sad about it." <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell derek">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>The man next to you scoffs and you finally look at him, somewhat confused by the exasperated look on his face. "I'm allowed to be sad about it," he tells you. "You're going to die for fuck's sake." "Well, yeah," you say, an uncertainty behind your words that you weren't expecting to make itself known, before quickly clearing your throat. "I just thought --" "That I'd be able to move on immediately after?" He supplies and you find yourself nodding along, though even as you think about it now, you can't pinpoint why you ever thought that was the case, and your reaction earns you another scoff and a sad smile. "This is different," he tells you, insists upon it actually, and your eyes widen ever so slightly at his next choice of words. "You're my kid, $nickname; of course, I'm not going to be able move on. You've been in my life longer than not; I don't even remember what it's like to live without you." It's strange to think about, Derek needing you as much as you need him, as much as a child needs a parent, but it makes sense; he's not your biological father and yet he spent the past thirty years acting as though he is. Your bond is not one easily breakable, that you should've been certain of all along. <<button "Derek clears his throat then and you bring your attention back to him, realising you never actually said anything in response, though judging from the look on his face, he doesn\'t seem to care. \"So, what now?\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell derek">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "I have to pack," you tell him and though a confused look takes over his face, he gets up and follows you to your bedroom, ready to help you pack if need be. "Going somewhere?" He questions, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a long story," you provide, and he nods along, pulling out the clothing you'd hastily thrown in to fold them for you. "Right." Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, he glances at you, his eyes alight with curiosity. "And the red head?" "Adelaide. I met her at a support group." Again, he nods but that's where the conversation ends. You like that he doesn't ask more questions, rather placing his trust in you that you know what you're doing. Truth be told, you have no idea what you're doing at any given point in time but you're glad he seems to think you do at least. It truly is the small things. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You'll call, right?" He asks and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your heart instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. "No more radio silence?" You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his jacket. He smells of fresh cut grass and a body wash strangely titled //'Jagged Ice'//, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "You should go," he says, urging you towards the door, wiping away more tears. "I've kept you long enough." "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 tell derek_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he arches an eyebrow up at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. "Now, why don't I believe that, $nickname?" he asks. You shrug your shoulders, once again avoiding his eyes and you hear him sigh. "Right. And the red head?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both concern and confusion, he follows you to your bedroom, though he makes no effort to help you. "Going somewhere?" He questions, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a work thing," you provide and he nods along, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest as if he has not a care in the world, but you know the man well and he has cares a plenty. "You wanna try that again?" He asks and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "$name, I've known you for thirty years; I know when you're lying." Approaching you, he snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. "Also your boss called; you haven't been showing up to work." Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|ad.6.hb.dtd][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|ad.6.hb.dtd][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|ad.6.hb.dtd][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|ad.6.hb.dtd][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|ad.6.hb.dtd][$filmmaker to true]]

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell her and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. Your mother sighs a sigh so heavy you think must physically exhaust her. "You've always been able to talk to me, $nickname," she states, a tone of melancholy underlying her words and your heart gives a miserable squeeze at lying to her, putting through such pain but you know the truth is a lot more painful. "Why is this different?" "I don't know," you say and it feels good to admit it out loud, but the feeling doesn't last long when you catch a glimpse of the look on her face. "I just need you to trust me on this." You look at each other for a long moment before she sighs again. "Okay," she relents as she picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by her need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to her for a while. Wordlessly, she wraps you up in her arms, squeezing you tight in a hug that makes you feel like a child once more, getting comforted by your mommy, but she let's go all to soon and reality comes crashing down again. You're no child but a dying adult that just lied to the only person who has loved you unconditionally ever since you were born. You can't decide which part of that worse. You realise then that she's begun to fold the rest of your clothes for you and finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before she finally cracks and throws her arms around you once more. "Be careful," she begs, squeezing you tighter than you thought her capable of and you wrap your arms around her in return. "I'm going to miss you so much." Echoing her sentiment, you pull away from her and with final look in her eyes and a kiss on her cheek, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what she plans to do in your house and not caring either. She can stay as long as she wants, as long as she needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 dont tell mom_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. "So make it not complicated," Sutton huffs and you're taken back to a time when you were children, when the world seemed so unfair because you couldn't have everything you'd ever dreamed of, a living, breathing family being one of them. Your problems seemed so catastrophic back then, now it's all a little trivial in comparison. "It's not that easy," you reply, indignant and annoyed at the voice in your head that insists that is really that easy. You do your best to ignore it, the guilt building in chest, filling your lungs and throat, drowning you beneath the weight of your deception. "I just need you to trust me on this." You look at each other for a long moment before he sighs again. "Okay," he relents as he picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to his for a while. He looks away from you then and to the contents of your bag, his frown taking over once again. "You never could pack a bag correctly," he scolds you, pulling out the articles of clothing you'd shoved in just moments before with a disappointed shake of his head and you can't help but grin at him. "Always gotta do it for you, huh?" Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll miss you," he says, putting on a cheerful smile and tone of voice that you're able to see through immediately, though you choose not to comment on it. You're okay with him doing whatever he needs to do in order to cope and if it means acting like everything is okay, you're going to go along with it. "Don't forget to call." "I won't," you tell him as you pull him into a quick hug. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 dont tell bro_leave">><</button>>

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your mom?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just tell your mother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd she take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own mother. "As well as you'd imagine." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Sorry," she replies, the apology surprisingly genuine, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "My dad didn't take it very well either." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100)>>She doesn't say anything but she does put the cigarettes back in her jacket before reaching over and taking your hand in hers. //Guess today is full of surprises//, you think and without really thinking about it, you squeeze her hand. She doesn't mention it, doesn't look at you, doesn't acknowledge anything around her in any way at all but the silence is weirdly comforting and you let her hold your hand for the rest of the train ride. <<button "Next" "a.6.tml.1-2">><</button>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100)>>"I guess so," she responds quietly but she furrows her eyebrows as she looks at you and you can't help but notice the tone of uncertainty in her voice. She doesn't believe you, that this just happens to be the way things are and there's nothing to do about it other than move on. And maybe she's right to do so or maybe she can't admit to herself that it's the truth. The conversation stalls between you and her grip seems to tighten on the box of cigarettes, crinkling the plastic and damaging the cardboard and rolled tobacco underneath. //This is just the way things are//, you think and the rest of the train ride passes by in uncomfortable silence. <<button "Next" "a.6.tml.4">><</button>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>She narrows her eyes at her, a scowl curling at her lips and you finally recognise the woman sitting next to you. This is who Adelaide is, angry and blunt and aggressive, and she does a good job of driving that fact home. "Fuck you, $name." She turns away from you, putting as much distance between the two of you as she can manage without climbing onto the stranger next to her and her grip tightens on the box of cigarettes, crinkling the plastic and crushing the cardboard and rolled tobacco underneath. And as the rest of the train ride passes by in uncomfortable silence, you can't help but wonder if she really means it. <<button "Next" "a.6.tml.4">><</button>>

Your train eventually stops and together you walk back to the community centre. You find the rest of the group waiting for you in the parking lot and Adelaide immediately walks away from you to talk to Margaret. You're not left alone for long, however, as Hayden's eyes light up as soon as spotting you and $hayden_he makes $hayden_his way over. "You ready?" $hayden_He asks, $hayden_his smile brighter than you've ever seen and you wonder if there's anything that could possibly dampen $hayden_his mood, but then again; if $hayden_his failing heart couldn't slow $hayden_him down, what could? You take a deep breath as you nod, raising your bag slightly for $hayden_him to see and almost miraculously, $hayden_his smile widens. "Ready as I'll ever be," you say before glancing around the mostly empty parking lot. "Dare I ask how we plan on getting anywhere?" "I think Margaret said she had it covered," $hayden_he remarks, a contemplative look on $hayden_his face. "She didn't say much else though." You go to speak again when you're suddenly cut off by a loud car horn and both you and Hayden turn just in time to see an old volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. Only one thing comes to mind as you watch it drive towards your group: //hippie van// and that on it's own has Margaret written all over it. <<button "Next" "ch1p2 end">><</button>>

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your dad?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just tell Derek you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say and it feels good to think of him as that, as your dad, after all these years. You hug your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd he take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own dad. "Pretty well, I'd say." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, her voice strangely soft, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "My dad didn't take it very well when he found out." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I\'m sorry." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your mom?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just lie to your mother's face, pretending like you're not going to drop dead in three months time. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd she take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own mother. "I didn't tell her." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, surprised by your words, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "I get it. My dad didn't exactly take my diagnosis very well when he found out." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your dad?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just lie to Derek's face, pretending like you're not going to drop dead in three months time. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say and it feels good to think of him as that, as your dad, after all these years. You hug your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd he take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own father. "I didn't tell him." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, surprised by your words, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "I get it. My dad didn't exactly take my diagnosis very well. Sometimes I wish I never told him." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Adelaide outside, and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say, and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to short-circuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your brother?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just tell Sutton you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say and you hug your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd he take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own dad. "About as well as you'd expect." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "It's not exactly the first time he’s gotten news like that though." "Oh," she replies, her voice strangely soft, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "My dad didn't take it very well when he found out." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I\'m sorry." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You watch, enthralled, as the van comes to a stop, parked haphazardly in the middle of the parking lot, before the driver climbs out; a middle aged man dressed neatly in a black suit and tie, his dark hair slicked back and his face clean shaven, his neat appearance at complete odds with the van. And like moths to a flame, your group moves towards him, desperate for more information and perhaps a little anticipation to get on the road. "Mom," the man says, speaking to Margaret with a certain resignation in his voice that you can tell has come from years of putting up with the woman's eccentricities. And given all that you've seen and experienced these last few weeks, you can't say that surprises you. "It's all ready to go and it's got a full tank. I'd like it back in the same condition." She waves her son off with a wrinkled, manicured hand. "Will you relax, dear? I can see why both you and Iris are so pent up all the time; stress and worry is a libido killer." Hayden tries to stifle a laugh next to you as the man drags a hand over his face, an exasperated //'Mom, please'//, muttered under his breath that is ultimately ignored by the old woman. "Now, you need to get back to work and we need to get going. Keys, please." She holds her hand out expectantly but he only shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that pulls tight at his blazer. "No way; the judge revoked your license for a reason, mom. Someone else needs to drive." Jordan is quick to step forward, inserting $jordan_himself between mother and son perhaps in fear of the interaction escalating into something beyond anyone's control. "I'll drive," $jordan_he say$jordan_plurals, a tight lipped smile on $jordan_his face. "You don't need to worry, Henry." "Thanks," he mutters, placing the keys in Jordan's hand as Margaret rolls her eyes. "And don't forget to call. Preferably not from inside a jail cell." "That only happened once, dear," Margaret says before she gestures to the van, shepherding your group on board with such urgency you'd think her life depends on it. And you guess, in a way, it does. All your lives do. "Give my love to Iris!" Henry doesn't say anything, he simply nods and watches as you climb inside in pensive silence. You find a seat somewhere in the middle, seated between Kade and Hayden on a plush leopard print couch that faintly smells of weed and sex, and try to quell your nerves. "It's now or never," Hayden says, quietly and to you alone, as if sharing a secret only you two can know about. You pull your lips up into a smile. "I choose now," you reply and $hayden_he grins at you. //You can only choose now.// <center><h1>END OF DEMO</h1></center>

Asra raises an eyebrow up at you from their place atop your kitchen counter, mid chew with an opened bag of chips clutched loosely in their hands. "What?" they ask, feinging innocence so well you're almost inclined to believe they've never done anything wrong in their life. You know better than that though. "You can't just break in here and pretend like it's normal." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." "For the record, I didn't break in," they say just before tilting their head back to finish whatever chips are left in the bag. "You gave me a key." "For //emergencies//," you retort and they simply shrug in return. Adelaide clears her throat and you're suddenly reminded of her presence as you glance at her. "You know, I think I'll wait outside after all." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as she pulls the front door shut behind her before returning your attention to your best friend only to find their dark eyes on the door. "She's hot," they quip as they jump off the counter, tossing the crumpled up chip bag somewhere near the bin before they turn to your fridge, pulling open the doors and scanning it's contents. "What biker gang did you steal her from?" You heave a sigh and rest your head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers for you. "As, can you focus please?" "Oh, forgive me for trying to catch up." They roll their eyes before grabbing a can of knock-off cola and shutting the doors with a decisiveness that makes you wince. "It's not like you've been avoiding me for weeks. What's up with that, by the way?" You avoid looking at them but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you, watching and waiting for you to speak. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell them the truth. [[Just be honest.|adelaide 6 (house boat) tell asra][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell them after all.|adelaide 6 (house boat) dont tell asra]]

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your brother?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just lie to your brother's face, pretending like you're not going to drop dead in three months time. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd he take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own brother. "I didn't tell him." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, surprised by your words, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "I get it. My dad didn't exactly take my diagnosis very well. Sometimes I wish I never told him." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." They narrow their eyes at you as they crack open their drink, take a sip, shift on their feet from side to the other. They drag a hand through their split dyed hair as they watch you with a suspicion that makes you wonder if you'd said anything at all. "Yeah, right," they say eventually, a scoff following their words and they take another hearty sip. "Very funny, $name." You roll your head to the side to face them fully and cross your arms over your chest. "It's not a joke," you insist. "I'm going to die in three months." "No, you're not," they say as they shake their head vehemently, refusing to see the truth for what it is. With raised eyebrows, you move to speak, to reaffirm the notion that you really are going to die but they cut you off quickly. "//No//, you're //not//. Tell me you're not." "Asra, why would I lie about something like that?" You huff, throwing your arms out and they pause at your tone, the exasperation underlying your words. Slowly, their face falls and they set the can down on the counter. "So, you're really..." You nod and they inhale sharply. "How?" You sigh again, looking at your best-friend with something close to defeat and you think for a moment that you've never seen them look so shell shocked. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell them, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "My doctor said there's nothing anyone can do; I've just got to ride it out." They approach the couch in silence, sitting down next to you as they stare at you with wide, frightened eyes, almost like they're afraid you'll bolt the second they get close. You'd never run from them, though. "God, that's so fucked," they mumble and when a lone tear slips down their cheek and around the curve of their jaw, they rush to wipe it away. "Tell me about it," you reply as you attempt a smile but it just feels hollow, like it's wrong to do so and perhaps it is. Death typically isn't something to smile about and in Asra's case, it's apparently wrong to breathe too.<<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell asra">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>You open your mouth to speak, to ask if they're okay or maybe even crack a poorly-timed joke to try ease the tension, but they throw their arms around you before you can get a word out, hugging you so tight you think you might actually die right here and now from suffocation. "You can't die." They choke on their words and your heart gives a painful squeeze at the sound. "I don't know how to live without you." You raise your arms to hug them back, leaning forward to rest your cheek against the top of their head, the scent of their shampoo filling your nose. "I'm sorry," you tell them and you mean it. You're sorry for putting them through such pain and heartbreak, you're sorry the end is so close, the two of you hurtling towards it at break neck speed, you're sorry they're going to have to say goodbye sooner than they ever thought they would need it. To say that your situation is 'fucked up' is actually putting it lightly. "Don't apologise," they say, sniffling, their voice cracking with restraint as they do their best to not sob into your shirt, though you wouldn't blame if they did anyway. "It's not your fault." Oh, but it //is//. If only you'd worried for yourself a little more, seen your doctor sooner, stopped acting like everything was okay when it was the furthest possible thing from okay, maybe you wouldn't be here. Maybe you'd be sitting with a tumor that could actually be removed, rightfully ripped from your flesh and disposed of like the parasite it is instead of being forced to endure. Maybe then everything would //actually// be okay, not whatever faux bullshit facade you've been living. "Still," you say, ignoring your guilt and your blame, putting it aside and burying it deep inside you where you hope it never sees the light of day. If only that was the way these things worked. "I'm sorry for //us//."<<button "Next" "adelaide 6 (house boat) tell asra">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>They pull away from you suddenly, hastily wiping away the tears that have built up but refused to fall and you blink at them in surprise, wondering what comes next and what it means for the two of you. "So, three months," they say and their voice still shakes slightly but you can tell from the look on their face that they're determined to ignore it, to move on and you let them. Whatever they need to do to cope. "That's something, at least. Have any idea how you want to spend it?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "Yes, actually," you say and they stare up at you, curious and surprised you have an answer locked and loaded. "I have to pack." They're on their feet and following you to your bedroom in seconds, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "For what?" "It's a long story," you provide, and they nod along, reaching into the shelves of your closet to help you pack faster. "Okay then." For a moment, there's nothing but silence between you two as you pack in unison, though they take slightly more care in doing so by folding some of the articles of clothing, but they eventually clear their throat. "And the biker chick?" "Adelaide. I met her at a support group; we're going on a road trip." Again, they nod but that's where the conversation ends. You don't know what to make of the silence, whether it's the good or bad kind, whether Asra is happy you're doing something you for yourself for once or if they're angry you're abandoning them just after dropping such a bomb on them, but you don't know that there's anything you can do about it. If Asra doesn't want to talk, you can't and won't force them to, you just wish this was all happening under different circumstances. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before they finally crack and pull you into their arms. "Be careful, alright?" They say, hugging you tight and you nod. "And pick up your damn phone when I call." "I will, I promise, As." Eventually you both pull away and despite their watery eyes and the tear running down their cheek that they hastily wipe away, they smile at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "Mind if I stay here for a while?" They ask, wiping away more tears with one and scratching the back of their neck with the other. "You can stay as long as you like," you say. "I'll miss you." You step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it, and they echo your sentiment. With final look in their eyes and a shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, hoping with everything you have that they're going to be okay without you. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 tell asra_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way they narrow their eyes at you, you know they're unconvinced by that and you can't even blame them. "Yeah, sure, Pinnochio." They crack open their drink, take a sip, shift on their feet from side to the other. They drag a hand through their split dyed hair as they watch you with a suspicion that makes you shift in your seat like a guilty suspect. "And biker chick out there?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell them, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." They follow you to your bedroom, taking another sip of their drink as they watch you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "For what?" "It's a work thing," you provide and they nod along, leaning against the wall with a hand in the pocket of their jeans, looking way too casual for the situation at hand. "Okay, now that we've got the lie of the way, what's the truth?" They ask and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at them over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "Your boss called, doofus; I know you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you, they snatch the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, glancing at you out the corner of their eye. "Honestly, you shouldn't have made me your emergency contact if you didn't want me to find out. " Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|ad.6.hb.dta][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|ad.6.hb.dta][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|ad.6.hb.dta][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|ad.6.hb.dta][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|ad.6.hb.dta][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Family?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just tell your best friend you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say and it feels good to think of them as that, as your family, after all these years. You hug your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd they take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own best friend. "Pretty well, I'd say." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, her voice strangely soft, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "My dad didn't take it very well when he found out." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I\'m sorry." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell them and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. They only raise an eyebrow at you as they polish off their drink, setting the empty can on your dresser before coming to sit next to you. "Hate to break it to you, $nickname, but it's gonna take a lot more than that to make me drop it." They state, shrugging their shoulders so nonchalantly as if to reaffirm that //yes, it really is that simple after all//. "But if you're not ready to tell me, that's fine. Just promise me you'll tell me when you //are// ready, whenever that may be." "I promise, As." The words clog up your throat, refusing to leave and you almost choke trying to get them out. If you couldn't tell them now, you don't know how you'll ever be able to work up the courage to do so and you worry that you never will, that they'll have to find out from someone else that you dropped dead without them by your side, without saying goodbye. And you can't help but think you're a horrible person for lying to them. You realise then that they've moved to your closet, grabbing clothes and throwing them in your bag just as they'd watched you do. They don't know where you're going or what you plan on doing when you get there, frankly neither do you, but they continue on nonetheless, helping you despite being left in the dark about your plans, your //life//. //Horrible, awful person,// your conscience whispers, the words echoing against the walls of your mind like a sadistic chant. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heart heavy with the grief of words unsaid. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before they finally crack and pull you into their arms. "Be careful, alright? Wherever you're going." They say, hugging you tight and you nod. "And pick up your damn phone when I call." "I will, I promise, As." Eventually you both pull away and they smile at you, bright and genuine, and you feel that same guilty feeling for lying to them again. "Mind if I stay here for a while?" They ask as they scratch at the back of their neck. "You can stay as long as you like," you say. "I'll miss you." You step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it, and they echo your sentiment. With final look in their eyes and a shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, hoping with everything you have that they'll forgive you when they find out the truth. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 tell dont_asra_leave">><</button>>

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Family?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just lie to your best friend's face, pretending like you're not going to drop dead in three months time. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say and it feels good to think of them as that, as your family, after all these years. You hug your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd they take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own best friend. "I didn't tell them." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, surprised by your words, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "I get it. My dad didn't exactly take my diagnosis very well. Sometimes I wish I never told him." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

The old man scowls at you from his place leaning against the counter, wrinkled hands wrapped around the head of a walking stick which he tucks under his arm to sign at you. //"Don't be dramatic,"// he signs, and though his hands shake, the actual signs themselves coming out almost jagged and choppy, you understand him perfectly. "I'll be as dramatic as I want." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." //"You'll live."// he says and the irony of his words almost makes you laugh. He waves a hand at you then, evidently done signing for the moment as he takes ahold of his cane once more, hobbling over to sit next to you and he sinks down onto the plush cushions with a grunt. Adelaide clears her throat and you're suddenly reminded of her presence as you glance at her. "You know, I think I'll wait outside after all." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as she pulls the front door shut behind her before returning your attention to the man that raised you. //"Tell me why you've been avoiding me,"// he instructs, staring at you with that same stern, unwavering look in his eyes that he'd use on you when you were kid and he'd try to get you to admit any wrongdoings you might've done. It worked on you then and it's working on you now. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|adelaide 6 (house boat) tell granpa][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|adelaide 6 (house boat) dont tell granpa]]

<<set $go_with_gabriel to true>>You don't recall exactly how the two of you wound up paired together, only that it meant you found yourself in the passenger seat of his Toyota Camry as he drove to the apartment he shared with two of his siblings in the city. He even let you choose the music. You sat on his couch, accompanied by his dog, a golden retriever named Honey, somewhat patiently as you waited for Gabriel to finish packing. It helped to have Honey there to give all your undivided attention to as you scratched her head, behind her ears, down her neck, and she wagged her tail happily, staring up at you with brown eyes as her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth. You could hear him in his bedroom, moving around the room, speaking to someone on the phone in Spanish and vaguely wondered to who, though the options seemed endless. You didn't have to wait long for him to emerge however and he deposited his bag on the floor by the couch before moving to the kitchen to pack a smaller bag of dog essentials for Honey, still on the phone. He hung up not long after and called Honey over to attach a leash to her collar, and then he was looking at you, a barely-there-but-still-genuine smile on his face as he nodded to the door, signalling that he was ready to go. The three of you made your way down to his car, Honey all too excited to get in the backseat and then you were off. You glance at him when you hear him clear his throat and you find to need to lean forward slightly to actually see him past Honey, who has half climbed over the centre console and is almost in the front with the two of you. "Which way to your place?" He asks, his voice quiet and husky, and his grey eyes flick between your face and the road, so fast you might've missed it entirely. You turn your attention back to the road, attempting to remember how to get to your home in a car. "Take a left up here," you tell him and as he nods, flicking on his turn signal to follow your directions, you reach up to pet Honey, wondering how he'll react to your place of residence. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in an apartment in the city with a roommate you met online.</div>' 'gabriel 5 (apartment)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a two bedroom house in the suburbs.</div>' 'gabriel 7 (house)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a houseboat by the docks.</div>' 'gabriel 6 (house boat)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a mobile home at the trailer park.</div>' 'gabriel 8 (rv)'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $boat to true>>A curious place to live, or so you've been told by everyone you know. You can't say you know what drew you to the water in the first place but whatever it is, you're grateful it did. It has the quiet charm of an abandoned building, or perhaps a forgotten temple; you don't know which but you find it oddly welcoming. Living on the water comes with a serenity you hadn't known how much you'd need when you first bought it and you like the way the waves lap against the hull in the dead of night, soothing you to sleep, and how the wind whips past your ears and makes you feel like you're the only person alive in the universe. You continue to direct him to the docks and when you notice that you're getting close, you roll the window down, Honey barking happily as you do so, and Gabriel chuckles softly as she finally climbs into the front and onto your lap, sticking her head out of the window and you can't help but smile as you run your fingers through her soft golden fur. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you can hear the lapping water and the squawking seagulls, you can smell the salt in the air and Gabriel barely has time to park the car and pull the handbrake up before you're opening the door, Honey jumping out and waiting dutifully next to the car, though her incessantly wagging tail betrays her excitement to get moving. You wait patiently for him to get out, round the vehicle, grab ahold of Honey's leash before you're leading them down the docks and to your home. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Gabriel stares up at the floating house, his lips parted slightly and his grey eyes alight with wonder. "Uh huh." You follow his eyes to the house and smile. It's a two-storey structure sitting atop a large, white riverboat consisting of a bedroom, bathroom, living space and kitchen. You've made a lot of renovations to it since you bought it some ten years ago and it's come a long way from what it to be; rusted, unliveable and downright hideous to look at. Now it's something you can be proud of. You look back to the man standing next to you and when you see he can't seem to tear his gaze away, you... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge him. \"It\'s cool, right?\" //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'gabriel 6 (house boat) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">shove your hands your pockets. \"This shouldn\'t take long.\" //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'gabriel 6 (house boat) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">roll your eyes. \"Are you done?\"//(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'gabriel 6 (house boat) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"Yeah," he says, his voice soft and filled with wonder and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. <<nobr>>You smile at him, hoping to reassure him that you're not judging him, and he tentatively returns it with a small smile of his own. Honey barks then, bringing the attention back down at her and you chuckle. "Come on," you say, gesturing towards your house as you pull your keys from your pocket. "Before she loses her mind." Gabriel gazes down at her fondly before nodding and together you step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>"Okay," he says, his voice soft and filled with wonder and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. <<nobr>>Wordlessly, you pull your keys from your pocket and step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice soft and he quickly looks away from your house, grey eyes trained on his shoes and the dog shaking with excitement next to him. <<nobr>>Wordlessly, you roll your eyes as pull your keys from your pocket and step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

She marches up to you, pulling you into her warm albeit tight embrace and squeezes you like her life depends it. And you hug her back because for a second, it feels like yours does too. "You've had me so worried," she says, giving you an extra squeeze before she pulls away, looking at you with big $eye eyes and a quivering bottom lip. "Why have you been avoiding my calls? I thought you died!" You grimace at the 'D' word -- a little on the nose, you think to yourself -- before forcing yourself to relax. You may be actively dying but you're not in your grave just yet and since your sweet, darling mother doesn't exactly know that about you, it's best to at least not let it show. "I'm sorry," you tell her as you desparately try to avoid eye contact with your next sentence. "It wasn't on purpose." She's always been good at detecting when you're lying or maybe you're just a terrible liar but you'd rather not give her the opportunity to catch you in a lie in the first place. "Um." Gabriel clears his throat and you're suddenly reminded of his presence as you glance at him. "We'll be outside." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as he leads Honey back out, pulling the front door shut behind them before returning your attention to the woman that raised you. She steps away from you, settling her hands on her hips in that typical mom pose of hers, looking signifcantly more annoyed now that she's confirmed you are, in fact, alive. "What's going on?" She asks, her tone demanding and you heave as a sigh as you go to the sit on the couch. Guess there's no putting it off any longer, not with her standing in front of you, staring you down. [[Just be honest.|gabriel 6 (house boat) tell mom][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell her after all.|gabriel 6 (house boat) dont tell mom]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." When she doesn't reply you think she might not have heard you and you take a deep breath, deciding to say more and dreading what her reaction will be. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell her, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "My doctor said I've got three months." You never knew you could watch a heart break but that's all you can see as you stare up at her, the tears welling in your mother's eyes and her quivering bottom lip as she tries and fails to come up with something to say. Because you know there's nothing she //can// say. It's all she can do to fall into your arms, sobbing into your shirt as if she's already lost you, though perhaps she has. The only reason you're here is to pack a bag of essentials before whisking away on an adventure of an extremely short lifetime. You can only hug her back; you've long shed your tears, you screamed and you cried until inducing a skull splitting headache and then you cried some more, you got angry and you yelled and you punched the wall until your knuckles bled. Of course, it's easy for you, you've had a full month to reach the acceptance stage of your grief; your mother only has these short few moments with you before you're running off again, leaving her to the shattered pieces of her broken heart. You don't know long you sit there for, holding her close and giving her the comfort she needs from you, wondering if you made the right choice in telling her at all. She's never been good at handling bad news but you didn't exactly have a choice with her standing in front of you, looking at you with big, $eye eyes that have always been able to see right through you. Because if you're being painfully honest with yourself, you're not sure you would have ever worked up the courage to tell her the truth if she hadn't shown up here, at your house, demanding answers. No, you would've waited until the bitter end, when you showed up dead and cold on some mortician's table and by then it would be too late, the sorry job of informing your mother about her deceased child passed onto some other schmuck. But at least then it wouldn't have been you breaking her heart.<<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell mom">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>She's slow to pull away from, her make-up a wreck from the tears streaming down her face and she can't quite look at you without even more welling up in her eyes. "What happens now?" she asks and her voice is shaky, as if she's mere seconds away from sobbing again, and knowing her as well as you do, that's a very real possibility. "Nothing," you tell her with a shrug of your shoulders and though she stares at you, aghast, it doesn't change the fact that it's true. "There's nothing anyone can do." "I don't believe that!" She huffs, indignant, and she's crying again, hanging onto you tightly as if she means to cure you through her touch, through pure physical force. If only it were so easy.<<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell mom">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>"There's something else," you say after a moment, prying her hands off of you as you think back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you rise to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on her face combining both alarm and confusion, she follows you to your bedroom. "Where are you going?" She demands, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a long story," you provide, and she's shaking her head before you're even able to finish speaking. "I don't care," she sobs, hysterical now. "You just told me you're going to die and now you're leaving?" Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can throw it in your bag, she forces you to look at her and it feels as though your heart stops in your chest when you get a look at her face. You've managed to ruin her in just a few short minutes, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. Again, she pleads with you, "Tell me what's going on, $name." You heave a sigh and reach out to pull the shirt from her hands which she easily lets go of, staring at each other with an all-encompassing sadness and you sink down on the bed next to your half-unpacked bag. "It's just a roadtrip," you say, and she frowns at you. "And that man?" She asks, your mind drifting back to the man and dog duo waiting for you. "Who is he?" "Gabriel. I met him at a support group." You hesitate for a moment, not completely sure why, you've come this far and said this much, there's no use in holding back now. "We're all going, the seven of us." Silence stretches on between you and for a moment you think that this is where it ends, this is where she demands you stay here with her, in her arms and never leaving her sight until your final breath, but then she sniffs, wipes her eyes yet again and takes the shirt back from you to fold it nicely. "I can't stop you, can I?" she says softly and you shake your head when she glances up at you and she takes a shuddering breath as she places the shirt in your bag, arbitrarily placed on top of the heap of unfolded items. "You're a lot like your father, you know. He was also a stubborn cow." Your mouth drops open, a defensive comeback locked and loaded in the back of your throat but you stop yourself when you see the amused, albeit mournful, look on her tear-streaked face. You look at each other for a long moment before you both burst in laughter and you can't deny the relief you feel as some of the tension in the air eases. You needed this, both of you, you just hope it's enough to stave the heartbreak off for just long enough. Eventually, though, the laughter stops and she looks away from you to the contents of your bag, hastily wiping at her eyes again and smearing her make-up even further. "You'll come back, won't you?" she asks and that same shaky tone is back, bringing on a wave of tears of your own. "Before you... before..." She can't bring herself to say it and you can't blame her. Thinking it is difficult already. //Before you die.// "I promise," you tell her, nodding fervently and she offers you a watery smile as she reaches over to cup your face, her thumb caressing over your cheek and wiping away a tear you hadn't even realised had fallen, and as you stare up her, you're a child once more, wanting nothing more than to be held and comforted by your mom. //Mommy,// you think. //Tell me it's going to be okay. Kiss my hurts and make them better.// Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before she finally cracks and throws her arms around you once more. "Be careful," she begs, squeezing you tighter than you thought her capable of and you wrap your arms around her in return. "I'm going to miss you so much." Echoing her sentiment, you pull away from her and with final look in her eyes and a kiss on her cheek, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what she plans to do in your house and not caring either. She can stay as long as she wants, as long as she needs to. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 tell mom_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"Nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way she arches an eyebrow up at you, you know she's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame her. She narrows her eyes at you, a hardened look in those $eye irises of hers and you avoid looking at her directly, fearful of what she could get out of you with such a simple look. "Don't you lie to me, $name $surname," she demands and you turn your head away even further, an action that makes you seem even more guilty. She takes a deep breath when you don't reply and moves to stand in your line of vision, forcing you to look at her again. "What about that man you came with? With the dog?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell her, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on her face combining both concern and suspicion, she follows you to your bedroom. "Where are you going?" She demands, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a work thing," you provide and she clicks her tongue, coming to stand next to your bed with her arms crossed over her chest and when you glance at her briefly, you think you never seen her look more angry than she does now. "Why do you think it's suddenly ok to lie to me?" She asks, her voice oddly calm for the situation that's currently playing out and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at her over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "Your boss called me to ask why you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you with a huff, she snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, and she sets it down besides your bag. Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|g.6.hb.dtm][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|g.6.hb.dtm][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|g.6.hb.dtm][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|g.6.hb.dtm][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|g.6.hb.dtm][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different but for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified simply just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road ahead and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. "I think so." He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I told her I'm gonna die," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. "My mom." You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "How is she?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent in his presence, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "As well as you'd imagine." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "If she's anything like my mom, she'll be okay." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "These things just take time." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I hope you\'re right." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"If you say so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>His smile brightens somewhat as you stare at each other, your eyes locking onto the dimple that forms in his cheek. "You're welcome, $name," he says and there's so much sincerity in his voice that you can't help but hang onto those few words as if they hold all the answers you'll ever need. And it's silly really, they're simple in their meaning and there's no way that Gabriel actually intends for them to mean more than that but you can't help the way your stomach flutters, the giddy feeling that blooms inside you. You share one last smile before he's turning away from you, the light's change to green and he's driving once more. The car is silent, aside from Honey's panting and what sounds like a Spanish ballad, but you don't mind all that. The silence is always better with Gabriel next to you. <<button "Next" "g.6.tml.4">><</button>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100)>>His face falters slightly, as if he was expecting you to say something else, something more, something better, but he hides his disappointment well as he turns away, focussing on the road once more. You wonder momentarily if you made the right move, if you really should say something more but then the light's turning green and he's driving again, and you lose any courage that might've been building, choosing instead to let the silence reign. <<button "Next" "g.6.tml.5">><</button>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>His face falls completely, as if he's really hurt by your dismissive attitude, but he does his best to hide his emotions as he turns away, focussing back on the road. And maybe he is; you don't know Gabriel enough at all to speculate how he feels, how his mind works. You pull away from Honey and she whines at the loss of your affection but you ignore her. You vaguely wonder if you should apologise but then the light's turning green and he's driving again, and you change your mind, choosing instead to let the silence reign. <<button "Next" "g.6.tml.5">><</button>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell her and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. Your mother sighs a sigh so heavy you think must physically exhaust her. "You've always been able to talk to me, $nickname," she states, a tone of melancholy underlying her words and your heart gives a miserable squeeze at lying to her, putting through such pain but you know the truth is a lot more painful. "Why is this different?" "I don't know," you say and it feels good to admit it out loud, but the feeling doesn't last long when you catch a glimpse of the look on her face. "I just need you to trust me on this." You look at each other for a long moment before she sighs again. "Okay," she relents as she picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by her need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to her for a while. Wordlessly, she wraps you up in her arms, squeezing you tight in a hug that makes you feel like a child once more, getting comforted by your mommy, but she let's go all to soon and reality comes crashing down again. You're no child but a dying adult that just lied to the only person who has loved you unconditionally ever since you were born. You can't decide which part of that worse. You realise then that she's begun to fold the rest of your clothes for you and finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before she finally cracks and throws her arms around you once more. "Be careful," she begs, squeezing you tighter than you thought her capable of and you wrap your arms around her in return. "I'm going to miss you so much." Echoing her sentiment, you pull away from her and with final look in her eyes and a kiss on her cheek, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what she plans to do in your house and not caring either. She can stay as long as she wants, as long as she needs to. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 dont tell mom_leave">><</button>>

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different and for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Not really," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I couldn't tell her my prognosis," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. "My mom." You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "Any reason why?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent with him, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "I don't know." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I guess it's just too hard." "You'll figure it out." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "And we're all here for you." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"If you say so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

It's not long until you arrive at the community centre and you climb out the car, feeling for whatever reason the need to wait for your two companions to join you. The rest of the group is already waiting for you in the parking lot and you move to approach them, briefly glancing at Gabriel behind you to make sure you're not leaving him on his own, and Hayden's eyes light up as soon as $hayden_he spots you and $hayden_he meets you halfway. "There you guys are," $hayden_he says, $hayden_his smile brighter than you've ever seen and you wonder if there's anything that could possibly dampen $hayden_his mood, but then again; if $hayden_his failing heart couldn't slow $hayden_him down, what could? $hayden_He then sees Honey and $hayden_he immediately crouches down to her level, the dog practically shaking with excitement as she rushes up to Hayden. "And you brought Honey!" "Couldn't leave without her," Gabriel says, his voice reverting back to it's usual soft hesitance and you can't keep from frowning, wishing for the Gabriel you'd spoken to in the car. Hayden glances up at you both. "You guys ready?" Gabriel's quick to nod and you take a deep breath as you follow suit, raising your bag slightly for Hayden to see and almost miraculously, $hayden_his smile widens. "Ready as I'll ever be," you say before glancing around the mostly empty parking lot. "Dare I ask how we plan on getting anywhere?" "I think Margaret said she had it covered," $hayden_he remarks, a contemplative look on $hayden_his face. "She didn't say much else though." You go to speak again when you're suddenly cut off by a loud car horn and both you and Hayden turn just in time to see an old volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. Only one thing comes to mind as you watch it drive towards your group: //hippie van// and that on it's own has Margaret written all over it. <<button "Next" "ch1p2 end">><</button>>

It's not long until you arrive at the community centre and you climb out the car, not bothering to wait for either of you companions to join you. The rest of the group is already waiting for you in the parking lot and you move to approach them, and Hayden's eyes light up as soon as $hayden_he spots you and $hayden_he meets you halfway. "There you guys are," $hayden_he says, $hayden_his smile brighter than you've ever seen and you wonder if there's anything that could possibly dampen $hayden_his mood, but then again; if $hayden_his failing heart couldn't slow $hayden_him down, what could? $hayden_He then sees Honey and you realise Gabriel has come up behind you as $hayden_he immediately crouches down to the dogs level, the dog practically shaking with excitement as she rushes up to Hayden. "And you brought Honey!" "Couldn't leave without her," Gabriel says, his voice reverting back to it's usual soft hesitance. Hayden glances up at you both. "You guys ready?" Gabriel's quick to nod and you take a deep breath as you follow suit, raising your bag slightly for Hayden to see and almost miraculously, $hayden_his smile widens. "Ready as I'll ever be," you say before glancing around the mostly empty parking lot. "Dare I ask how we plan on getting anywhere?" "I think Margaret said she had it covered," $hayden_he remarks, a contemplative look on $hayden_his face. "She didn't say much else though." You go to speak again when you're suddenly cut off by a loud car horn and both you and Hayden turn just in time to see an old volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. Only one thing comes to mind as you watch it drive towards your group: //hippie van// and that on it's own has Margaret written all over it. <<button "Next" "ch1p2 end">><</button>>

Sutton jumps, seemingly just as surprised by your appearance as you are by his, before he quickly composes himself, his surprise replaced by a look of brotherly anger that you know is supposed to intimidate you but ultimately doesn't, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Language," he scolds you and you roll your eyes, as is typical for the two of you. "Maybe don't break into my house if you don't want me to swear." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a heart attack." Sutton pouts, shifting on his feet as he looks for something to say, something to convey how he feels in this moment or maybe in general. "I wouldn't have had to break in if you hadn't been ignoring me for weeks." "Um." Gabriel clears his throat and you're suddenly reminded of his presence as you glance at him. "We'll be outside." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as he leads Honey back out, pulling the front door shut behind them before returning your attention to your older brother. "Please just tell me what's wrong," he begs, his brotherly anger morphing into brotherly sadness and you scold yourself for what you're about to put him through. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|gabriel 6 (house boat) tell bro][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|gabriel 6 (house boat) dont tell bro]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." He inhales sharply, and you watch him shift on his feet. "What do you mean?" He asks, his voice shaking with nerves, the question plain and simple, the answer anything but. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell him, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "I'm going die in three months." Time seems to slow to a stop, the silence is deafening and for a moment you think he's stopped breathing as he stares at you, mouth agape, $eye eyes wide and glossy with burgeoning tears and you feel your heart break for him. This isn't the first time he's received news like this, but it //is// the last and that's perhaps what makes it so difficult. "No," is all he manages to say, over and over as if it'll make it any less true, before he pulls you into his arms, his body shaking with sobs as he holds onto you, his grip tight and desperate. "Not you," he cries. "Why you?" You can only hug him back; you've long shed your tears, you screamed and you cried until inducing a skull splitting headache and then you cried some more, you got angry and you yelled and you punched the wall until your knuckles bled. Of course, it's easy for you, you've had a full month to reach the acceptance stage of your grief; Sutton only has these short few moments with you before you're running off again, leaving him to his heart break. You keep your arms around him, your hold on him just as tight as his on you, almost as if the two of you squeeze each other just enough, you'll get to hang on to this moment, this life, a little longer. "It's okay," you hear yourself say and it's weird to be the one doing the comforting here. You are the one that's dying after all, although whose to say that a piece of him won't die the same time you do. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell bro">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>"No, it's not," he says indignantly, pulling away from you to angrily wipe away his tears, though they're quickly replaced by more. "You're going to die! How is that at all okay?" You heave a sigh, shifting on the couch in a way that moves you away from your brother without really meaning to do so but ultimately leaves you feeling grateful for the experience. "I don't know," you reply, earnest. "I guess it's just one of the things you have to learn to be okay with." He huffs, unwillingly to accept your words as gospel and you can't exactly blame him for that. "Losing you isn't something I'll ever be okay with, $nickname. What are we going to do?" <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell bro">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>His use of 'we' makes you smile, because of course he sees this as team effort between the two of you, before your mind flicks to your companion waiting for you outside in what you imagine is a less than patient manner and you're reminded of why you came home in the first place. Jumping to your feet, you startle him halfway out of his sadness and he watches you with wide eyes as you start for your bedroom. "I have to pack," you tell him and out of the corner of your eye, you see him rush after you. "What are you talking about?" He questions, his tone demanding and panicked, watching you with wide watery eyes as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet and begin tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a long story," you provide, and he's shaking his head before you're even able to finish speaking. "You can't just tell me that you're going to die and then up and leave immediately after." Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can throw it in your bag, he forces you to look at him and it feels as though your heart stops in your chest when you get a look at his face. You've managed to ruin him in just a few short minutes, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. Again, he pleads with you, "Just talk to me. " You heave a sigh and reach out to pull the shirt from his hands which he easily lets go of, staring at each other with an all-encompassing sadness and you sink down on the bed next to your half-unpacked bag. "It's just a roadtrip," you say, and he frowns at you. "And that man?" He asks, your mind drifting back to the man and dog duo waiting for you. "Who is he?" "Gabriel. I met him at a support group." You hesitate for a moment, not completely sure why, you've come this far and said this much, there's no use in holding back now. "We're all going, the seven of us." You look at each other for a long moment before he sighs again. "Okay," he relents as he picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to his for a while. He looks away from you then and to the contents of your bag, his frown taking over once again. "You never could pack a bag correctly," he scolds you, pulling out the articles of clothing you'd shoved in just moments before with a disappointed shake of his head and you can't help but grin at him. "Always gotta do it for you, huh?" Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll miss you," he says, putting on a cheerful smile and tone of voice that you're able to see through immediately, though you choose not to comment on it. You're okay with him doing whatever he needs to do in order to cope and if it means acting like everything is okay, you're going to go along with it. "Don't forget to call." "I won't," you tell him as you pull him into a quick hug. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 tell bro_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"Nothing's wrong," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he arches an eyebrow up at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He crosses his arm over his chest in a huff and pouts at you, his bottom lip quivering slightly and you worry that he might cry anyway despite not even knowing the truth. "You're such a liar, $name," he grumbles, staring at you with an imploring look in his $eye eyes but you hold your ground. He's upset enough as it is; you're not about to shatter his heart beyond repair. When he realises you're not going to give in and tell him, he huffs again, throwing his arms down to his sides as he moves to sit next to you. "Fine, don't tell me. Will you at least tell me who that man is? The one you came with?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both alarm and confusion, he rushes after you as you walk to your bedroom. "What are you talking about?" He questions, his tone demanding and panicked, watching you with wide watery eyes as you pull an empty duffel bag from the back of your closet and begin tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a work thing," you provide and out of the corner of your eye, you see his face scrunch up in anger, his hands going to his hair and tugging on the thick, $hair_colour strands. "Stop lying!" He shouts and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "$name, your boss called me; you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you, he snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, the emotion on his face incredibly raw and open, his eyes welling up as he looks at you. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. Please, $nickname, I just want to help you." Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|g.6.hb.dtb][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|g.6.hb.dtb][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|g.6.hb.dtb][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|g.6.hb.dtb][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|g.6.hb.dtb][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily in-between the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to short-circuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different but for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified simply just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road ahead and him. He doesn't drive very fast, but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. "I think so." He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumour, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I told him I'm gonna die," you say suddenly, and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "How is he?" he asks, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent in his presence, and you're intrigued by how far your conversation will go. "About as well as you expect." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "Although it’s not the first time he’s gotten news like that." "I'm proud of you." He stops at a red light, and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "I know that can't have been easy." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Sure." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. "So make it not complicated," Sutton huffs and you're taken back to a time when you were children, when the world seemed so unfair because you couldn't have everything you'd ever dreamed of, a living, breathing family being one of them. Your problems seemed so catastrophic back then, now it's all a little trivial in comparison. "It's not that easy," you reply, indignant and annoyed at the voice in your head that insists that is really that easy. You do your best to ignore it, the guilt building in chest, filling your lungs and throat, drowning you beneath the weight of your deception. "I just need you to trust me on this." You look at each other for a long moment before he sighs again. "Okay," he relents as he picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to his for a while. He looks away from you then and to the contents of your bag, his frown taking over once again. "You never could pack a bag correctly," he scolds you, pulling out the articles of clothing you'd shoved in just moments before with a disappointed shake of his head and you can't help but grin at him. "Always gotta do it for you, huh?" Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll miss you," he says, putting on a cheerful smile and tone of voice that you're able to see through immediately, though you choose not to comment on it. You're okay with him doing whatever he needs to do in order to cope and if it means acting like everything is okay, you're going to go along with it. "Don't forget to call." "I won't," you tell him as you pull him into a quick hug. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 dont tell bro_leave">><</button>>

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different and for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Not really," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I couldn't tell him my prognosis," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. "My brother." You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "Any reason why?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent with him, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "I don't know." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I guess it's just too hard." "You'll figure it out." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "And we're all here for you." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"If you say so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Derek narrows his eyes at you, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket as he leans his hip against the island counter. "Sorry," he says, though it's obvious to you that he's not sorry at all, his tone of voice lacking any real conviction. "If it's any consolation, I did knock." "That would make me feel better if you hadn't broken in immediately after." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." "Well deserved, I think," he shrugs, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Since you've been avoiding me for a month." "Um." Gabriel clears his throat and you're suddenly reminded of his presence as you glance at him. "We'll be outside." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as he leads Honey back out, pulling the front door shut behind them before returning your attention to the man that raised you. "Alright; talk," he instructs, his face suddenly serious and you arch an eyebrow up at him, for some reason expecting him to say more and unnerved when he doesn't. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|gabriel 6 (house boat) tell derek][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|gbariel 6 (house boat) dont tell derek]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. "That's not a new concept, $name," he tells you. "Everyone's going to die." You're shaking your head before you even realise you're doing it. "I'm being serious." A deep, shuddering breath passes your lips as you glance between his face and the floor. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor; I'm going die in three months." He stares at you for a long moment, as if he simply can't comprehend what you've just told him, before he blinks and then all at once, the confusion leaves his face, his analytical eyes sharpening with crystal clear focus as he comes to sit next to you. "I'm guessing you've known for the past month." You nod as you look away from his face and somewhere at the carpet, you hear him sigh though and you wonder what's going through his mind. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, $name." "It's fine," you tell him with a shrug because even though it shouldn't be, it is, having long accepted this as your truth, your destiny, an inevitable fact of life. "No use being sad about it." <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell derek">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>The man next to you scoffs and you finally look at him, somewhat confused by the exasperated look on his face. "I'm allowed to be sad about it," he tells you. "You're going to die for fuck's sake." "Well, yeah," you say, an uncertainty behind your words that you weren't expecting to make itself known, before quickly clearing your throat. "I just thought --" "That I'd be able to move on immediately after?" He supplies and you find yourself nodding along, though even as you think about it now, you can't pinpoint why you ever thought that was the case, and your reaction earns you another scoff and a sad smile. "This is different," he tells you, insists upon it actually, and your eyes widen ever so slightly at his next choice of words. "You're my kid, $nickname; of course, I'm not going to be able move on. You've been in my life longer than not; I don't even remember what it's like to live without you." It's strange to think about, Derek needing you as much as you need him, as much as a child needs a parent, but it makes sense; he's not your biological father and yet he spent the past thirty years acting as though he is. Your bond is not one easily breakable, that you should've been certain of all along. <<button "Derek clears his throat then and you bring your attention back to him, realising you never actually said anything in response, though judging from the look on his face, he doesn\'t seem to care. \"So, what now?\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell derek">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "I have to pack," you tell him and though a confused look takes over his face, he gets up and follows you to your bedroom, ready to help you pack if need be. "Going somewhere?" He questions, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a long story," you provide, and he nods along, pulling out the clothing you'd hastily thrown in to fold them for you. "Right." Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, he glances at you, his eyes alight with curiosity. "And the mountain man?" "Gabriel. I met him at a support group." Again, he nods but that's where the conversation ends. You like that he doesn't ask more questions, rather placing his trust in you that you know what you're doing. Truth be told, you have no idea what you're doing at any given point in time but you're glad he seems to think you do at least. It truly is the small things. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You'll call, right?" He asks and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your heart instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. "No more radio silence?" You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his jacket. He smells of fresh cut grass and a body wash strangely titled //'Jagged Ice'//, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "You should go," he says, urging you towards the door, wiping away more tears. "I've kept you long enough." "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 tell derek_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he arches an eyebrow up at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. "Now, why don't I believe that, $nickname?" he asks. You shrug your shoulders, once again avoiding his eyes and you hear him sigh. "Right. And the mountain man?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both concern and confusion, he follows you to your bedroom, though he makes no effort to help you. "Going somewhere?" He questions, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a work thing," you provide and he nods along, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest as if he has not a care in the world, but you know the man well and he has cares a plenty. "You wanna try that again?" He asks and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "$name, I've known you for thirty years; I know when you're lying." Approaching you, he snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. "Also your boss called; you haven't been showing up to work." Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|g.6.hb.dtd][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|g.6.hb.dtd][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|g.6.hb.dtd][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|g.6.hb.dtd][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|g.6.hb.dtd][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different but for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified simply just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road ahead and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. "I think so." He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I told him I'm gonna die," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "How is he?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent in his presence, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "Pretty good, all things considered." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I'm proud of you." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "I know that can't have been easy." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Sure." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different and for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Not really," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I couldn't tell him my prognosis," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "Any reason why?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent with him, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "I don't know." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I guess it's just too hard." "You'll figure it out." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "And we're all here for you." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"If you say so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Asra raises an eyebrow up at you from their place atop your kitchen counter, mid chew with an opened bag of chips clutched loosely in their hands. "What?" they ask, feinging innocence so well you're almost inclined to believe they've never done anything wrong in their life. You know better than that though. "You can't just break in here and pretend like it's normal." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." "For the record, I didn't break in," they say just before tilting their head back to finish whatever chips are left in the bag. "You gave me a key." "For //emergencies//," you retort and they simply shrug in return. "Um." Gabriel clears his throat and you're suddenly reminded of his presence as you glance at him. "We'll be outside." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as he leads Honey back out, pulling the front door shut behind them before returning your attention to your best friend. "He's hot," they quip as they jump off the counter, tossing the crumpled up chip bag somewhere near the bin before they turn to your fridge, pulling open the doors and scanning it's contents. "Where'd you find him?" You heave a sigh and rest your head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers for you. "As, can you focus please?" "Oh, forgive me for trying to catch up." They roll their eyes before grabbing a can of knock-off cola and shutting the doors with a decisiveness that makes you wince. "It's not like you've been avoiding me for weeks. What's up with that, by the way?" You avoid looking at them but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you, watching and waiting for you to speak. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell them the truth. [[Just be honest.|gabriel 6 (house boat) tell asra][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell them after all.|gabriel 6 (house boat) dont tell asra]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." They narrow their eyes at you as they crack open their drink, take a sip, shift on their feet from side to the other. They drag a hand through their split dyed hair as they watch you with a suspicion that makes you wonder if you'd said anything at all. "Yeah, right," they say eventually, a scoff following their words and they take another hearty sip. "Very funny, $name." You roll your head to the side to face them fully and cross your arms over your chest. "It's not a joke," you insist. "I'm going to die in three months." "No, you're not," they say as they shake their head vehemently, refusing to see the truth for what it is. With raised eyebrows, you move to speak, to reaffirm the notion that you really are going to die but they cut you off quickly. "//No//, you're //not//. Tell me you're not." "Asra, why would I lie about something like that?" You huff, throwing your arms out and they pause at your tone, the exasperation underlying your words. Slowly, their face falls and they set the can down on the counter. "So, you're really..." You nod and they inhale sharply. "How?" You sigh again, looking at your best-friend with something close to defeat and you think for a moment that you've never seen them look so shell shocked. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell them, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "My doctor said there's nothing anyone can do; I've just got to ride it out." They approach the couch in silence, sitting down next to you as they stare at you with wide, frightened eyes, almost like they're afraid you'll bolt the second they get close. You'd never run from them, though. "God, that's so fucked," they mumble and when a lone tear slips down their cheek and around the curve of their jaw, they rush to wipe it away. "Tell me about it," you reply as you attempt a smile but it just feels hollow, like it's wrong to do so and perhaps it is. Death typically isn't something to smile about and in Asra's case, it's apparently wrong to breathe too.<<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell asra">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>You open your mouth to speak, to ask if they're okay or maybe even crack a poorly-timed joke to try ease the tension, but they throw their arms around you before you can get a word out, hugging you so tight you think you might actually die right here and now from suffocation. "You can't die." They choke on their words and your heart gives a painful squeeze at the sound. "I don't know how to live without you." You raise your arms to hug them back, leaning forward to rest your cheek against the top of their head, the scent of their shampoo filling your nose. "I'm sorry," you tell them and you mean it. You're sorry for putting them through such pain and heartbreak, you're sorry the end is so close, the two of you hurtling towards it at break neck speed, you're sorry they're going to have to say goodbye sooner than they ever thought they would need it. To say that your situation is 'fucked up' is actually putting it lightly. "Don't apologise," they say, sniffling, their voice cracking with restraint as they do their best to not sob into your shirt, though you wouldn't blame if they did anyway. "It's not your fault." Oh, but it //is//. If only you'd worried for yourself a little more, seen your doctor sooner, stopped acting like everything was okay when it was the furthest possible thing from okay, maybe you wouldn't be here. Maybe you'd be sitting with a tumor that could actually be removed, rightfully ripped from your flesh and disposed of like the parasite it is instead of being forced to endure. Maybe then everything would //actually// be okay, not whatever faux bullshit facade you've been living. "Still," you say, ignoring your guilt and your blame, putting it aside and burying it deep inside you where you hope it never sees the light of day. If only that was the way these things worked. "I'm sorry for //us//."<<button "Next" "gabriel 6 (house boat) tell asra">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>They pull away from you suddenly, hastily wiping away the tears that have built up but refused to fall and you blink at them in surprise, wondering what comes next and what it means for the two of you. "So, three months," they say and their voice still shakes slightly but you can tell from the look on their face that they're determined to ignore it, to move on and you let them. Whatever they need to do to cope. "That's something, at least. Have any idea how you want to spend it?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "Yes, actually," you say and they stare up at you, curious and surprised you have an answer locked and loaded. "I have to pack." They're on their feet and following you to your bedroom in seconds, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "For what?" "It's a long story," you provide, and they nod along, reaching into the shelves of your closet to help you pack faster. "Okay then." For a moment, there's nothing but silence between you two as you pack in unison, though they take slightly more care in doing so by folding some of the articles of clothing, but they eventually clear their throat. "And the hot guy?" "Gabriel. I met him at a support group; we're going on a road trip." Again, they nod but that's where the conversation ends. You don't know what to make of the silence, whether it's the good or bad kind, whether Asra is happy you're doing something you for yourself for once or if they're angry you're abandoning them just after dropping such a bomb on them, but you don't know that there's anything you can do about it. If Asra doesn't want to talk, you can't and won't force them to, you just wish this was all happening under different circumstances. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before they finally crack and pull you into their arms. "Be careful, alright?" They say, hugging you tight and you nod. "And pick up your damn phone when I call." "I will, I promise, As." Eventually you both pull away and despite their watery eyes and the tear running down their cheek that they hastily wipe away, they smile at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "Mind if I stay here for a while?" They ask, wiping away more tears with one and scratching the back of their neck with the other. "You can stay as long as you like," you say. "I'll miss you." You step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it, and they echo your sentiment. With final look in their eyes and a shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, hoping with everything you have that they're going to be okay without you. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 tell asra_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way they narrow their eyes at you, you know they're unconvinced by that and you can't even blame them. "Yeah, sure, Pinnochio." They crack open their drink, take a sip, shift on their feet from side to the other. They drag a hand through their split dyed hair as they watch you with a suspicion that makes you shift in your seat like a guilty suspect. "And the hot guy you came with?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell them, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." They follow you to your bedroom, taking another sip of their drink as they watch you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "For what?" "It's a work thing," you provide and they nod along, leaning against the wall with a hand in the pocket of their jeans, looking way too casual for the situation at hand. "Okay, now that we've got the lie of the way, what's the truth?" They ask and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at them over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "Your boss called, doofus; I know you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you, they snatch the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, glancing at you out the corner of their eye. "Honestly, you shouldn't have made me your emergency contact if you didn't want me to find out. " Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|g.6.hb.dta][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|g.6.hb.dta][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|g.6.hb.dta][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|g.6.hb.dta][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|g.6.hb.dta][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different but for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified simply just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road ahead and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. "I think so." He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I told them I'm gonna die," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. "My best friend." You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "How are they?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent in his presence, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "Pretty good, all things considered." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I'm proud of you." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "I know that can't have been easy." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Sure." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell them and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. They only raise an eyebrow at you as they polish off their drink, setting the empty can on your dresser before coming to sit next to you. "Hate to break it to you, $nickname, but it's gonna take a lot more than that to make me drop it." They state, shrugging their shoulders so nonchalantly as if to reaffirm that //yes, it really is that simple after all//. "But if you're not ready to tell me, that's fine. Just promise me you'll tell me when you //are// ready, whenever that may be." "I promise, As." The words clog up your throat, refusing to leave and you almost choke trying to get them out. If you couldn't tell them now, you don't know how you'll ever be able to work up the courage to do so and you worry that you never will, that they'll have to find out from someone else that you dropped dead without them by your side, without saying goodbye. And you can't help but think you're a horrible person for lying to them. You realise then that they've moved to your closet, grabbing clothes and throwing them in your bag just as they'd watched you do. They don't know where you're going or what you plan on doing when you get there, frankly neither do you, but they continue on nonetheless, helping you despite being left in the dark about your plans, your //life//. //Horrible, awful person,// your conscience whispers, the words echoing against the walls of your mind like a sadistic chant. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heart heavy with the grief of words unsaid. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before they finally crack and pull you into their arms. "Be careful, alright? Wherever you're going." They say, hugging you tight and you nod. "And pick up your damn phone when I call." "I will, I promise, As." Eventually you both pull away and they smile at you, bright and genuine, and you feel that same guilty feeling for lying to them again. "Mind if I stay here for a while?" They ask as they scratch at the back of their neck. "You can stay as long as you like," you say. "I'll miss you." You step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it, and they echo your sentiment. With final look in their eyes and a shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, hoping with everything you have that they'll forgive you when they find out the truth. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 tell dont_asra_leave">><</button>>

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different and for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Not really," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I couldn't tell them my prognosis," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "Any reason why?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent with him, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "I don't know." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I guess it's just too hard." "You'll figure it out." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "And we're all here for you." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"If you say so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"C'mon," you say as you grin at her, your smile teasing, and she narrows her eyes at you. "It's not any worse than your apartment." She scowls at you and for a moment you think she's going to snap back at you, some biting remark that's going to make you regret even saying anything in the first place, but then she pauses and tilts her head ever so slightly to the side as if really thinking about it before she shrugs, the tiniest hint of a smile on her gaunt face. "I basically live in a shoe box so that's probably true." You chuckle as you move towards the front door, pulling your keys from your pocket before you glance back at her. "Oh, and if my roommate's home, don't take anything he offers you." She looks at you curiously as you lead her up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. "I made that mistake years ago and I still haven't recovered." She doesn't say anything as you unlock the front door and hold it open for her as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and her ice cold eyes snap to you. "I won't take long," you say and she furrows her eyebrows slightly as if disappointed you're not inviting her in but the emotion is gone just as fast as it appeared. "It's fine," she huffs, arms crossed over her chest and bottom lip stuck outward in a pout, her usual scowl slipping back into place on her gaunt face. "Let's just make this quick." "You got it," you tell her with a slow nod before turning towards your building, pulling your keys from your pocket before leading her up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes, a scoff leaving your mouth and her cold eyes to snap to your face. "I don't have all day," you say, your voice taking on a patronising tone and she glares at you. "Pick your jaw off the floor and let's go." "Oh, by all means," she chides, gesturing to the building and you breeze past her, pulling your keys from your pocket before leading her up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $apartment to true>>Not as nice Gabriel's apartment and definitely not as big, the space perhaps a bit too small for its residents, being you and a man you are almost certain is a drug lord, but it works and you're in way too deep to move at this point, not to mention that in three months time you won't even need a place to live. //Pros and cons//, you think to yourself. You continue to direct him to your apartment and when you notice that you're getting close, you roll the window down, Honey barking happily as you do so, and Gabriel chuckles softly as she finally climbs into the front and onto your lap, sticking her head out of the window and you can't help but smile as you run your fingers through her soft golden fur. <<nobr>>Soon enough, he turns onto your street and he barely has time to park the car and pull the handbrake up before you're opening the door, Honey jumping out and waiting dutifully next to the car, though her incessantly wagging tail betrays her excitement to get moving. You wait patiently for him to get out, round the vehicle, grab ahold of Honey's leash before you're leading them to your building. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "gabriel 5 (apartment) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Gabriel looks up at the apartment building, his grey eyes ablaze with disbelief as if convinced that you couldn't possibly live in a place like this. "Uh huh." You follow his eyes to the building and smile. It's a four-storey structure, unassuming and squeezed in between two much larger buildings on either side of it. It's a little rundown, weeds growing up the side, the bricks cracked in a few places and almost an entirely new colour, weathered by time, but it's your home and you're happy with it, even if you do have to share with it a questionable roommate. You look back to the man standing next to you and when you see he can't seem to tear his gaze away, you... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge him. \"It\'s not much but I like it.\" //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'gabriel 5 (apartment) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">shove your hands your pockets. \"This shouldn\'t take long.\" //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'gabriel 5 (apartment) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">roll your eyes. \"Are you done?\"//(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'gabriel 5 (apartment) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"That's what matters most," he says, his voice soft and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. You smile at him, hoping to reassure him that you're not judging him, and he tentatively returns it with a small smile of his own. Honey barks then, bringing the attention back down at her and you chuckle. "Come on," you say, gesturing towards your building as you pull your keys from your pocket. "Before she loses her mind." Gabriel gazes down at her fondly before nodding and you lead him to the front door before glancing at him over your shoulder. "Oh, and if my roommate's home, don't take anything he offers you." He looks at you curiously, a small frown on his face, as you lead him up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. "I made that mistake years ago and I still haven't recovered." He doesn't say anything as you unlock the front door and hold it open for him as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>"Okay," he says, his voice soft and filled with wonder and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. <<nobr>>Wordlessly, you pull your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door, leading him up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice soft and he quickly looks away from your house, grey eyes trained on his shoes and the dog shaking with excitement next to him. <<nobr>>Rolling your eyes, you pull your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door, leading him up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $house to true>>When you bought it from the bank at an auction almost a decade ago for next to nothing, the house itself was a disaster. Unlivable, riddled with mold and rats, and downright hideous to look at, it needed a lot of TLC and you spent every second of your free time and every scent you could spare on building your dream home. It took a lot out of you to get it to where it is now but you wouldn't change it for anything. The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and she grumbles something you can't quite make out but what you assume to be along the lines of thanking the lord above. It's not a very long walk from the station to your house but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a factor that seems to go unappreciated by Adelaide if the soft out-of-breath huffs coming from her place a step behind you is anything to go by and you slow down, remembering her cancer diagnosis. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you turn onto your street and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Adelaide watching you sceptically as you lead her towards your house. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "adelaide 7 (house) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Adelaide looks up at the apartment building, her blue eyes ablaze with disbelief as if convinced that you couldn't possibly live in a place like this. "Uh huh." You follow her eyes to the house and smile. It's a two-storey structure, with two bedrooms, three bathrooms and an open floor plan downstairs that combines the kitchen, dining room and living room. Beautifully trimmed rose bushes line the sides of the house and a stone pathway leads around to the backyard where a swimming pool and gazebo, handbuilt by you, await. You look back to the woman standing next to you and when you see she can't seem to tear her eyes away, the disbelief still evident on her face, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge her. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'adelaide 7 (house) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave her be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'adelaide 7 (house) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise her. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'adelaide 7 (house) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"Something wrong?" you say as you grin at her, your smile teasing. She finally looks at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she twists her mouth to the side. "No," she says slowly, glancing between you and the house. "It's just really nice." "Don't sound so surprised," you chuckle, pulling your keys from your pocket as you lead her up the stone pathway to the front door. "You jealous?" "A little," she says, a quiet laugh of her own following and you unlock the front door, holding it open for her as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and her ice cold eyes snap to you. "I won't take long," you say and she furrows her eyebrows slightly as if disappointed you're not inviting her in but the emotion is gone just as fast as it appeared. "It's fine," she huffs, arms crossed over her chest and bottom lip stuck outward in a pout, her usual scowl slipping back into place on her gaunt face. "Let's just make this quick." "You got it," you tell her with a slow nod before pulling your keys from your pocket and leading her up the stone pathway to the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes, a scoff leaving your mouth and her cold eyes to snap to your face. "I don't have all day," you say, your voice taking on a patronising tone and she glares at you. "Pick your jaw off the floor and let's go." "Oh, by all means," she chides, gesturing to the house and you breeze past her, pulling your keys from your pocket and leading her up the stone pathway to the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $rv to true>>What used to be a double decker bus that you bought for dirt cheap at a scrap yard is now a furnished home, equipped with it's own gas heater, solar panels and most impressively, to you at least, a fully functioning bathroom. Of course you need a reliable water source if you really want to make use of the shower for an extended period of time, which is mostly what has you parked in the trailer park, but you still prefer it over a standard house. After all, where's the fun if you can't drive your home away at a moment's notice? The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and she grumbles something you can't quite make out but what you assume to be along the lines of thanking the lord above. It's not a very long walk from the station to the trailer park but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a factor that seems to go unappreciated by Adelaide if the soft out-of-breath huffs coming from her place a step behind you is anything to go by and you slow down, remembering her cancer diagnosis. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you turn onto your street and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Adelaide watching you sceptically as you lead her towards your house. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "adelaide 8 (rv) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

<<set $house to true>>When you bought it from the bank at an auction almost a decade ago for next to nothing, the house itself was a disaster. Unlivable, riddled with mold and rats, and downright hideous to look at, it needed a lot of TLC and you spent every second of your free time and every scent you could spare on building your dream home. It took a lot out of you to get it to where it is now but you wouldn't change it for anything. You continue to direct him to your house and when you notice that you're getting close, you roll the window down, Honey barking happily as you do so, and Gabriel chuckles softly as she finally climbs into the front and onto your lap, sticking her head out of the window and you can't help but smile as you run your fingers through her soft golden fur. <<nobr>>Soon enough, he turns onto your street and he barely has time to park the car and pull the handbrake up before you're opening the door, Honey jumping out and waiting dutifully next to the car, though her incessantly wagging tail betrays her excitement to get moving. You wait patiently for him to get out, round the vehicle, grab ahold of Honey's leash before you're leading them to your house. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "gabriel 7 (house) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Gabriel looks up at the house, his grey eyes ablaze with disbelief as if convinced that you couldn't possibly live in a place like this. "Uh huh." You follow him eyes to the house and smile. It's a two-storey structure, with two bedrooms, three bathrooms and an open floor plan downstairs that combines the kitchen, dining room and living room. Beautifully trimmed rose bushes line the sides of the house and a stone pathway leads around to the backyard where a swimming pool and gazebo, handbuilt by you, await. You look back to the man standing next to you and when you see he can't seem to tear his gaze away, you... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge him. \"It\'s nice, right?\" //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'gabriel 7 (house) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">shove your hands your pockets. \"This shouldn\'t take long.\" //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'gabriel 7 (house) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">roll your eyes. \"Are you done?\"//(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'gabriel 7 (house) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"Yeah," he says, his voice soft and filled with wonder and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. <<nobr>>You smile at him, hoping to reassure him that you're not judging him, and he tentatively returns it with a small smile of his own. Honey barks then, bringing the attention back down at her and you chuckle. "Come on," you say, gesturing towards your house as you pull your keys from your pocket. "Before she loses her mind." Gabriel gazes down at her fondly before nodding. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>"Okay," he says, his voice soft and filled with wonder and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. <<nobr>>Wordlessly, you pull your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice soft and he quickly looks away from your house, grey eyes trained on his shoes and the dog shaking with excitement next to him. <<nobr>>Rolling your eyes, you pull your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Adelaide looks up at the bus, her blue eyes ablaze with disbelief as if convinced that you couldn't possibly live in a place like this. "Uh huh." You follow her eyes to the bus and smile. Downstairs is your kitchen, bathroom and living area with a small eating nook in the far end, and is suprisingly spacious for all that's packed into it. Upstairs is your bedroom and storage area, private enough that you often feel like you're only the person in the world. You look back to the woman standing next to you and when you see she can't seem to tear her eyes away, the disbelief still evident on her face, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge her. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'adelaide 8 (rv) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave her be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'adelaide 8 (rv) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise her. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'adelaide 8 (rv) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"C'mon," you say as you grin at her, your smile teasing, and she narrows her eyes at you. "It's not any worse than your apartment." She scowls at you and for a moment you think she's going to snap back at you, some biting remark that's going to make you regret even saying anything in the first place, but then she pauses and tilts her head ever so slightly to the side as if really thinking about it before she shrugs, the tiniest hint of a smile on her gaunt face. "From the looks of it, it's a whole lot nicer." You chuckle as you move towards the front door, pulling your keys from your pocket before you glance back at her. "Why, thank you." She doesn't respond as you unlock the front door and hold it open for her as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and her ice cold eyes snap to you. "I won't take long," you say and she furrows her eyebrows slightly as if disappointed you're not inviting her in but the emotion is gone just as fast as it appeared. "It's fine," she huffs, arms crossed over her chest and bottom lip stuck outward in a pout, her usual scowl slipping back into place on her gaunt face. "Let's just make this quick." "You got it," you tell her with a slow nod before turning towards your home, pulling your keys from your pocket and unlocking the door, holding it open for her as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $aggressive to Math.clamp($aggressive + 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes, a scoff leaving your mouth and her cold eyes to snap to your face. "I don't have all day," you say, your voice taking on a patronising tone and she glares at you. "Pick your jaw off the floor and let's go." "Oh, by all means," she chides, gesturing to the building and you breeze past her, pulling your keys from your pocket before unlocking the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "adelaide 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $rv to true>>What used to be a double decker bus that you bought for dirt cheap at a scrap yard is now a furnished home, equipped with it's own gas heater, solar panels and most impressively, to you at least, a fully functioning bathroom. Of course you need a reliable water source if you really want to make use of the shower for an extended period of time, which is mostly what has you parked in the trailer park, but you still prefer it over a standard house. After all, where's the fun if you can't drive your home away at a moment's notice? You continue to direct him to trailer park and when you notice that you're getting close, you roll the window down, Honey barking happily as you do so, and Gabriel chuckles softly as she finally climbs into the front and onto your lap, sticking her head out of the window and you can't help but smile as you run your fingers through her soft golden fur. <<nobr>>Soon enough, he turns onto your street and he barely has time to park the car and pull the handbrake up before you're opening the door, Honey jumping out and waiting dutifully next to the car, though her incessantly wagging tail betrays her excitement to get moving. You wait patiently for him to get out, round the vehicle, grab ahold of Honey's leash before you're leading them to your home. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "gabriel 8 (rv) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Gabriel looks up at the bus, his grey eyes ablaze with disbelief as if convinced that you couldn't possibly live in a place like this. "Uh huh." You follow his eyes and smile. Downstairs is your kitchen, bathroom and living area with a small eating nook in the far end, and is suprisingly spacious for all that's packed into it. Upstairs is your bedroom and storage area, private enough that you often feel like you're only the person in the world. You look back to the man standing next to you and when you see he can't seem to tear his gaze away, you... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">nudge him. \"A bit unconventional, I know, but I like it.\" //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'gabriel 8 (rv) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">shove your hands your pockets. \"This shouldn\'t take long.\" //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'gabriel 8 (rv) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">roll your eyes. \"Are you done?\"//(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'gabriel 8 (rv) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"That's what matters most," he says, his voice soft and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. You smile at him, hoping to reassure him that you're not judging him, and he tentatively returns it with a small smile of his own. Honey barks then, bringing the attention back down at her and you chuckle. "Come on," you say, gesturing towards your home as you pull your keys from your pocket. "Before she loses her mind." Gabriel gazes down at her fondly before nodding and you lead him to the front door, unlocking it and holding it open for him as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>"Okay," he says, his voice soft and filled with wonder and he shakes his head a moment later, seemingly to bring himself back to reality, before he looks at you and his eyes widen slightly when he finds you watching him. <<nobr>>Wordlessly, you pull your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door, holding it open for him as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $g_ship to Math.clamp($g_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>"Sorry," he mumbles, his voice soft and he quickly looks away from your house, grey eyes trained on his shoes and the dog shaking with excitement next to him. <<nobr>>Rolling your eyes, you pull your keys from your pocket and unlock the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "gabriel 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>><</nobr>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he narrows his eyes at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. //"Don't bullshit me, kid,"// he signs, dsigruntled. //"And your friend out there?"// Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "Adelaide," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both concern and confusion, he struggles to his feet before following you to your bedroom. He bangs his cane against the floor to get you to look at him, watching him sign as you pull an empty duffel from the back of you closet and toss in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. //"Going somewhere?"// "It's a work thing," you provide and he nods along, shuffling across the floor to drop down on the corner of your bed with huff. //"What did I say about not bullshitting me?"// He asks and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." //"I got an email from your boss saying you haven't been showing up."// Reaching up, he grabs the t-shirt in your hands and you let it go immediately, not wanting to cause him anymore pain than he's already in. //"Why?"// Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|ad.6.hb.dtg][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|ad.6.hb.dtg][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|ad.6.hb.dtg][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|ad.6.hb.dtg][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|ad.6.hb.dtg][$filmmaker to true]]

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down between him and your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. He only raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh, realising he's not going to say more until you do. "I just need you to trust me on this." He glares at you but there's not any heat in his eyes, only an intense grief that you attribute to not seeing you for a month. //If only you weren't so stubborn. If only you weren't so selfish.// He grunts again, begrudgingly signing an //"Okay, I trust you"// and that's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his arms, hugging so tight it's as if your life depends on this moment of affection from your grandfather, and he hugs you back, his shaking hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You pull away before too long has passed, hastily wiping away tears you hadn't even realised had fallen in the first place, and you rush to finish packing. When you finally finish, you walk with him back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heaviness in your heart. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks first. //"Answer my messages,"// he says and it's a demand, a non-negotiable of him trusting you entirely and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to even say as much to you. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms once again wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his cardigan. He smells of laundry detergent and vanilla tobacco, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "adelaide 6 dont tell granpa_leave">><</button>>

You meet Adelaide outside and she raises a plucked eyebrow at you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and she clearly doesn't need more incentive than that as she picks up her bag from where it sat at her feet, turns around and begins the walk back to the train station, giving you no choice but to follow after her. Truthfully, you're just glad she didn't leave without you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Adelaide drops down next to you and you catch her watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on her face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully she breaks the silence for you. "Your grandad?" she questions and it's then that you realise she's chewing a piece of gum, strawberry and mint from the smell of it, making the whole thing seem way more casual than it is. Like you didn't just lie to your grandfather's face, pretending like you're not going to drop dead in three months time. But despite you telling the redhead not to ask, you answer her anyway. "Yeah," you say and you hug your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. Adelaide makes a //'hmph'// sound that you think must hurt her throat from how guttural it is and you drag your eyes back to her face, expecting to find the usual disdain only to be suprised with an expression that vaguely resemblances sympathy. Truth be told, you didn't even know she was capable of that. "How'd he take it?" she asks after a moment and you have to remind yourself not to stare and to answer her question like a normal person. You know she's talking about your tumor; you rarely talk about your family during the meetings, only when Jordan pushes you for details and even then you keep it vague, so it wouldn't take a genius to figure out you hadn't told the only other person in your life. Somehow, six near strangers know more about you than your own grandfather. "I didn't tell him." You finally look away from her, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "Oh," she replies, surprised by your words, and you see her take out a carton of cigarettes in your peripheral. It's unopened, the plastic wrapping still intact but it's far from new if the smudges of motor oil covering it are anything to go by. She simply turns it over in her hands, not even looking as she does so, pressing her thumbs into the sides of the carton every now and then. You've seen her do this before, during meetings when she thinks no one is paying attention, and you can't help but wonder if she ever plans to do anything with it, either open it or throw it away, but you doubt you'll ever find out. "I get it. My dad didn't exactly take my diagnosis very well. Sometimes I wish I never told him." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.1'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"I don\'t care." //(+Aggressive)(-Adelaide)//</div>' 'a.6.tml.3'>><<set $a_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

The old man scowls at you from his place leaning against the counter, wrinkled hands wrapped around the head of a walking stick which he tucks under his arm to sign at you. //"Don't be dramatic,"// he signs, and though his hands shake, the actual signs themselves coming out almost jagged and choppy, you understand him perfectly. "I'll be as dramatic as I want." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." //"You'll live."// He waves a hand at you, evidently done signing for the moment as he takes ahold of his cane once more, hobbling over to sit next to you and he sinks down onto the plush cushions with a grunt. "Um." Gabriel clears his throat and you're suddenly reminded of his presence as you glance at him. "We'll be outside." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as he leads Honey back out, pulling the front door shut behind them before returning your attention to the man that raised you. //"Tell me why you've been avoiding me,"// he instructs, staring at you with that same stern, unwavering look in his eyes that he'd use on you when you were kid and he'd try to get you to admit any wrongdoings you might've done. It worked on you then and it's working on you now. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|gabriel 6 (house boat) tell granpa][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|gabriel 6 (house boat) dont tell granpa]]

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he narrows his eyes at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. //"Don't bullshit me, kid,"// he signs, dsigruntled. //"And your friend out there?"// Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "Gabriel," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both concern and confusion, he struggles to his feet before following you to your bedroom. He bangs his cane against the floor to get you to look at him, watching him sign as you pull an empty duffel from the back of you closet and toss in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. //"Going somewhere?"// "It's a work thing," you provide and he nods along, shuffling across the floor to drop down on the corner of your bed with huff. //"What did I say about not bullshitting me?"// He asks and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." //"I got an email from your boss saying you haven't been showing up."// Reaching up, he grabs the t-shirt in your hands and you let it go immediately, not wanting to cause him anymore pain than he's already in. //"Why?"// Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|g.6.hb.dtg][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|g.6.hb.dtg][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|g.6.hb.dtg][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|g.6.hb.dtg][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|g.6.hb.dtg][$filmmaker to true]]

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down between him and your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. He only raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh, realising he's not going to say more until you do. "I just need you to trust me on this." He glares at you but there's not any heat in his eyes, only an intense grief that you attribute to not seeing you for a month. //If only you weren't so stubborn. If only you weren't so selfish.// He grunts again, begrudgingly signing an //"Okay, I trust you"// and that's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his arms, hugging so tight it's as if your life depends on this moment of affection from your grandfather, and he hugs you back, his shaking hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You pull away before too long has passed, hastily wiping away tears you hadn't even realised had fallen in the first place, and you rush to finish packing. When you finally finish, you walk with him back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heaviness in your heart. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks first. //"Answer my messages,"// he says and it's a demand, a non-negotiable of him trusting you entirely and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to even say as much to you. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms once again wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his cardigan. He smells of laundry detergent and vanilla tobacco, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "gabriel 6 dont tell granpa_leave">><</button>>

You meet Gabriel outside and he looks at you with a quiet curiosity on his face, his tan skin looking almost golden in the afternoon sun. "Don't ask," you say and though he frowns at you, he nods nonetheless, and you walk back to his car, Honey trotting happily inbetween the two of you. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You climb in the front seat, pulling the seatbelt across your chest with a breath so deep it makes you feel lightheaded momentarily and set your bag on your lap, needing something solid to hold onto, to ground you in the present. You catch Gabriel watching you out of the corner of your as he begins the drive back to the community centre, a Spanish song filtering softly through the speakers, a strange look on his face that you don't know what to make of. Thankfully, and surprisingly, he breaks the silence for you. "Are you okay?" he asks. You can't help but think he sounds different and for a moment you can't figure out why until you realise it's because he didn't speak with his usually uncertainty, as if he'll be crucified just for talking, but instead with a commanding firmness that, if you didn't know any better, would make you think he'd never felt fear before in his life. He cares and he wants you to know that, and so even though you told him not to ask in the first place, you answer him anyway. "Not really," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between the road and him. He doesn't drive very fast but it feels like the world outside is rushing by, leaving the two of you behind in its dust. He nods, an understanding look his face and you wonder momentarily if he really does understand, if he's ever felt so far from okay but clung onto the memories of a time he //did// feel okay, hoping that if he holds on tight enough and for long enough, he'll feel that way again someday. But then you remember that he's dying just like you, a failing liver for brain tumor, and you think that yes, he understands completely. "I couldn't tell him my prognosis," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. "My grandfather." You watch as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he nods again. "Any reason why?" he asks and you have to remind yourself not to stare. This is the most you've ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice still such a foreign sound to you despite the amount of time you've spent with him, and you're intriqued by how far your conversation will go. "I don't know." You finally look away from him, directing your attention to Honey, who has once again found her way half into the front and you scratch behind her ears, the thumping of her tail against the backseat all the confirmation you need to know that she likes it. "I guess it's just too hard." "You'll figure it out." He stops at a red light and he turns slightly in his seat to face you, a smile appearing on his lips the second he lays his eyes on his dog. "And we're all here for you." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.1'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"If you say so." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Gabriel)//</div>' 'g.6.tml.3'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Adelaide outside and her blue eyes widen somewhat at your grandfather next to you, somehow looking even more pale and gaunt in the early afternoon sun. "Adelaide, meet my grandfather, Anthony," you say as you gesture in his direction. "Grandpa, meet Adelaide." He grunts and Adelaide blinks in surprise before

<<set $go_with_hayden to true>>You don't recall exactly how the two of you wound up paired together, only that it meant you found yourself sitting side by side on the train, the silence companionable as you made the journey to $hayden_his duplex apartment in the city. You sat on $hayden_his couch, eyes wide and mesmerised as you surveyed the art on the walls, all done by Hayden $hayden_himself, as you, somewhat patiently, waited for $hayden_him to finish packing. You were amazed by $hayden_his talent, paintings and sculptures depicting a variety of subject matter with the most popular among the pieces being people, and you found yourself wondering how long it took $hayden_him to get to this point, how it took $hayden_him to perfect $hayden_his craft. But before you could lose yourself further in $hayden_his work, $hayden_he met you downstairs with a packed bag and a bright smile on $hayden_his face, and soon you were on your way back to the train station. You glance at $hayden_him when you hear $hayden_him hum and find $hayden_him staring up at the overhead board displaying the next stop. "How many stops did you say again?" $hayden_He asks, $hayden_his excitement just barely contained, bubbling below the surface, and you can tell $hayden_he's eager to get this roadtrip started. Your eyes flick back up to the board, mentally ticking off the number of stops left to go. "Just one more," you tell $hayden_him and $hayden_he nods, pressing $hayden_his lips into a line that does little to conceal $hayden_his smile, and as you take note of how $hayden_he's practically buzzing in $hayden_his seat, you can’t help but wonder what $hayden_he'll think of your place of residence. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in an apartment in the city with a roommate you met online.</div>' 'hayden 5 (apartment)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a two bedroom house in the suburbs.</div>' 'hayden 7 (house)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a houseboat by the docks.</div>' 'hayden 6 (house boat)'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">You live in a mobile home at the trailer park.</div>' 'hayden 8 (rv)'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $boat to true>>A curious place to live, or so you've been told by everyone you know. You can't say you know what drew you to the water in the first place but whatever it is, you're grateful it did. It has the quiet charm of an abandoned building, or perhaps a forgotten temple; you don't know which but you find it oddly welcoming. Living on the water comes with a serenity you hadn't known how much you'd need when you first bought it and you like the way the waves lap against the hull in the dead of night, soothing you to sleep, and how the wind whips past your ears and makes you feel like you're the only person alive in the universe. The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and $hayden_he practically leaps out of $hayden_his seat, eagerly following where you lead. It's not a very long walk from the station to the docks but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a fact that seems to enthrall Hayden as $hayden_he takes in the sights around $hayden_him like a tourist on foreign land. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you can hear the lapping water and the squawking seagulls, you can smell the salt in the air and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Hayden watching you with a twinkle in $hayden_his eyes as you led $hayden_him down the docks. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Hayden looks up at the floating house in awe, $hayden_his brown eyes practically bugging out of $hayden_his head like a cartoon character and you have to stifle a laugh. "Uh huh." You follow $hayden_his eyes to the house and smile. It's a two-storey structure sitting atop a large, white riverboat consisting of a bedroom, bathroom, living space and kitchen. You've made a lot of renovations to it since you bought it some ten years ago and it's come a long way from what it to be; rusted, unliveable and downright hideous to look at. Now it's something you can be proud of. You look back to the $hayden_gender standing next to you and when you see $hayden_he can't seem to look away, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">tease $hayden_him. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'hayden 6 (house boat) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave $hayden_him be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'hayden 6 (house boat) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise $hayden_him. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'hayden 6 (house boat) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"I know it's not much," you start, doing your best to keep a straight face and Hayden whips $hayden_his head around to look at you. "But it's home." $hayden_His brown eyes widen, almost comically, and $hayden_he quickly shakes $hayden_his head. "Are you kidding? This is incredible!" $hayden_He looks back at your floating house, face lit up like a kid in a candy store, and you're no longer able to keep the smile off your face, amused at your friends reaction. "I'd kill to live in a place like this." "Woah, let's not be hasty," you laugh as you pull your keys from your pocket. "I'll be gone in three months anyway and then I promise it's all yours." "Deal!" $hayden_He says and you share a smile before you step on board together. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and $hayden_he quickly turns $hayden_his attention to you. "I won't take long," you say and $hayden_he nods, that easy going smile of $hayden_his making a home on $hayden_his face. "No problem," $hayden_he tells you and you nod before turning towards your house, pulling your keys from your pocket as you step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes with a huff $hayden_he quickly turns $hayden_his attention back to you. "Are you done?" you grumble. "We don't have all day." "Sorry," $hayden_he says, smiling apologetically. "I didn't mean to stare; it's really nice." <<nobr>>"Yeah, whatever," you mutter before turning towards your house, pulling your keys from your pocket as you step on board. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

She marches up to you, pulling you into her warm albeit tight embrace and squeezes you like her life depends it. And you hug her back because for a second, it feels like yours does too. "You've had me so worried," she says, giving you an extra squeeze before she pulls away, looking at you with big $eye eyes and a quivering bottom lip. "Why have you been avoiding my calls? I thought you died!" You grimace at the 'D' word -- a little on the nose, you think to yourself -- before forcing yourself to relax. You may be actively dying but you're not in your grave just yet and since your sweet, darling mother doesn't exactly know that about you, it's best to at least not let it show. "I'm sorry," you tell her as you desparately try to avoid eye contact with your next sentence. "It wasn't on purpose." She's always been good at detecting when you're lying or maybe you're just a terrible liar but you'd rather not give her the opportunity to catch you in a lie in the first place. "I'll just be outside." Hayden interrupts and you're suddenly reminded of $hayden_his presence as you glance at $hayden_him. "Shout if you need me." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as $hayden_he steps out, pulling the front door shut behind $hayden_him before returning your attention to the woman that raised you. She steps away from you, settling her hands on her hips in that typical mom pose of hers, looking signifcantly more annoyed now that she's confirmed you are, in fact, alive. "What's going on?" She asks, her tone demanding and you heave as a sigh as you go to the sit on the couch. Guess there's no putting it off any longer, not with her standing in front of you, staring you down. [[Just be honest.|hayden 6 (house boat) tell mom][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell her after all.|hayden 6 (house boat) dont tell mom]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." When she doesn't reply you think she might not have heard you and you take a deep breath, deciding to say more and dreading what her reaction will be. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell her, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "My doctor said I've got three months." You never knew you could watch a heart break but that's all you can see as you stare up at her, the tears welling in your mother's eyes and her quivering bottom lip as she tries and fails to come up with something to say. Because you know there's nothing she //can// say. It's all she can do to fall into your arms, sobbing into your shirt as if she's already lost you, though perhaps she has. The only reason you're here is to pack a bag of essentials before whisking away on an adventure of an extremely short lifetime. You can only hug her back; you've long shed your tears, you screamed and you cried until inducing a skull splitting headache and then you cried some more, you got angry and you yelled and you punched the wall until your knuckles bled. Of course, it's easy for you, you've had a full month to reach the acceptance stage of your grief; your mother only has these short few moments with you before you're running off again, leaving her to the shattered pieces of her broken heart. You don't know long you sit there for, holding her close and giving her the comfort she needs from you, wondering if you made the right choice in telling her at all. She's never been good at handling bad news but you didn't exactly have a choice with her standing in front of you, looking at you with big, $eye eyes that have always been able to see right through you. Because if you're being painfully honest with yourself, you're not sure you would have ever worked up the courage to tell her the truth if she hadn't shown up here, at your house, demanding answers. No, you would've waited until the bitter end, when you showed up dead and cold on some mortician's table and by then it would be too late, the sorry job of informing your mother about her deceased child passed onto some other schmuck. But at least then it wouldn't have been you breaking her heart.<<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell mom">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>She's slow to pull away from, her make-up a wreck from the tears streaming down her face and she can't quite look at you without even more welling up in her eyes. "What happens now?" she asks and her voice is shaky, as if she's mere seconds away from sobbing again, and knowing her as well as you do, that's a very real possibility. "Nothing," you tell her with a shrug of your shoulders and though she stares at you, aghast, it doesn't change the fact that it's true. "There's nothing anyone can do." "I don't believe that!" She huffs, indignant, and she's crying again, hanging onto you tightly as if she means to cure you through her touch, through pure physical force. If only it were so easy.<<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell mom">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>"There's something else," you say after a moment, prying her hands off of you as you think back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you rise to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on her face combining both alarm and confusion, she follows you to your bedroom. "Where are you going?" She demands, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a long story," you provide, and she's shaking her head before you're even able to finish speaking. "I don't care," she sobs, hysterical now. "You just told me you're going to die and now you're leaving?" Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can throw it in your bag, she forces you to look at her and it feels as though your heart stops in your chest when you get a look at her face. You've managed to ruin her in just a few short minutes, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. Again, she pleads with you, "Tell me what's going on, $name." You heave a sigh and reach out to pull the shirt from her hands which she easily lets go of, staring at each other with an all-encompassing sadness and you sink down on the bed next to your half-unpacked bag. "It's just a roadtrip," you say, and she frowns at you. "And that $hayden_gender?" She asks, your mind drifting back to the artist waiting for you. "Who is $hayden_he?" "Hayden. I met $hayden_him at a support group." You hesitate for a moment, not completely sure why, you've come this far and said this much, there's no use in holding back now. "We're all going, the seven of us." Silence stretches on between you and for a moment you think that this is where it ends, this is where she demands you stay here with her, in her arms and never leaving her sight until your final breath, but then she sniffs, wipes her eyes yet again and takes the shirt back from you to fold it nicely. "I can't stop you, can I?" she says softly and you shake your head when she glances up at you and she takes a shuddering breath as she places the shirt in your bag, arbitrarily placed on top of the heap of unfolded items. "You're a lot like your father, you know. He was also a stubborn cow." Your mouth drops open, a defensive comeback locked and loaded in the back of your throat but you stop yourself when you see the amused, albeit mournful, look on her tear-streaked face. You look at each other for a long moment before you both burst in laughter and you can't deny the relief you feel as some of the tension in the air eases. You needed this, both of you, you just hope it's enough to stave the heartbreak off for just long enough. Eventually, though, the laughter stops and she looks away from you to the contents of your bag, hastily wiping at her eyes again and smearing her make-up even further. "You'll come back, won't you?" she asks and that same shaky tone is back, bringing on a wave of tears of your own. "Before you... before..." She can't bring herself to say it and you can't blame her. Thinking it is difficult already. //Before you die.// "I promise," you tell her, nodding fervently and she offers you a watery smile as she reaches over to cup your face, her thumb caressing over your cheek and wiping away a tear you hadn't even realised had fallen, and as you stare up her, you're a child once more, wanting nothing more than to be held and comforted by your mom. //Mommy,// you think. //Tell me it's going to be okay. Kiss my hurts and make them better.// Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before she finally cracks and throws her arms around you once more. "Be careful," she begs, squeezing you tighter than you thought her capable of and you wrap your arms around her in return. "I'm going to miss you so much." Echoing her sentiment, you pull away from her and with final look in her eyes and a kiss on her cheek, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what she plans to do in your house and not caring either. She can stay as long as she wants, as long as she needs to. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 tell mom_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"Nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way she arches an eyebrow up at you, you know she's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame her. She narrows her eyes at you, a hardened look in those $eye irises of hers and you avoid looking at her directly, fearful of what she could get out of you with such a simple look. "Don't you lie to me, $name $surname," she demands and you turn your head away even further, an action that makes you seem even more guilty. She takes a deep breath when you don't reply and moves to stand in your line of vision, forcing you to look at her again. "What about that $hayden_gender you came with?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell her, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on her face combining both concern and suspicion, she follows you to your bedroom. "Where are you going?" She demands, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a work thing," you provide and she clicks her tongue, coming to stand next to your bed with her arms crossed over her chest and when you glance at her briefly, you think you never seen her look more angry than she does now. "Why do you think it's suddenly ok to lie to me?" She asks, her voice oddly calm for the situation that's currently playing out and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at her over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "Your boss called me to ask why you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you with a huff, she snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, and she sets it down besides your bag. Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|h.6.hb.dtm][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|h.6.hb.dtm][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|h.6.hb.dtm][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|h.6.hb.dtm][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|h.6.hb.dtm][$filmmaker to true]]

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell her and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. Your mother sighs a sigh so heavy you think must physically exhaust her. "You've always been able to talk to me, $nickname," she states, a tone of melancholy underlying her words and your heart gives a miserable squeeze at lying to her, putting through such pain but you know the truth is a lot more painful. "Why is this different?" "I don't know," you say and it feels good to admit it out loud, but the feeling doesn't last long when you catch a glimpse of the look on her face. "I just need you to trust me on this." You look at each other for a long moment before she sighs again. "Okay," she relents as she picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by her need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to her for a while. Wordlessly, she wraps you up in her arms, squeezing you tight in a hug that makes you feel like a child once more, getting comforted by your mommy, but she let's go all to soon and reality comes crashing down again. You're no child but a dying adult that just lied to the only person who has loved you unconditionally ever since you were born. You can't decide which part of that worse. You realise then that she's begun to fold the rest of your clothes for you and finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before she finally cracks and throws her arms around you once more. "Be careful," she begs, squeezing you tighter than you thought her capable of and you wrap your arms around her in return. "I'm going to miss you so much." Echoing her sentiment, you pull away from her and with final look in her eyes and a kiss on her cheek, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what she plans to do in your house and not caring either. She can stay as long as she wants, as long as she needs to. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 dont tell mom_leave">><</button>>

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your mother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "No," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "I couldn't tell her about the tumour." "Oh." That's all $hayden_he can bring $hayden_himself to say because truthfully what is there for $hayden_him //to// say? Hayden's got it easy; a failing heart and a whole family to support $hayden_him, to hug $hayden_him and comfort $hayden_him on the bad days, to tell $hayden_him everything's going to be okay and that they're there for $hayden_him, that $hayden_he will never be alone because $hayden_he has them. $hayden_He doesn't know what it's like to just have one person, one person you'd do anything to protect from heartbreak, even if it means lying to their face. Even if it means dying without giving them a chance to say goodbye. $hayden_He doesn't understand how cruel and selfish you are. "I'm sorry." The apology is genuine, everything with Hayden is and maybe that's what makes it hurt even more. Because Hayden truly feels sorry for you, for the pain you're in, for the pain you're going to cause your mother. //So cruel. So selfish. So gut-wrenchinly painful you think you're going to be sick.// <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your mother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "Just told my mom about my brain tumor." "How did she take it? Is she okay?" $hayden_He stares at you with wide, concerned eyes and for a moment you're taken aback by the sincerity in $hayden_his face, $hayden_his words, $hayden_his existence. Everything about Hayden is totally and completely genuine and it's disarming to say the least. You could stand to get used to it. "If I said anything less than awful, I'd be lying." You finally look away from $hayden_him, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "I'm so sorry, $name." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Sutton jumps, seemingly just as surprised by your appearance as you are by his, before he quickly composes himself, his surprise replaced by a look of brotherly anger that you know is supposed to intimidate you but ultimately doesn't, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Language," he scolds you and you roll your eyes, as is typical for the two of you. "Maybe don't break into my house if you don't want me to swear." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a heart attack." Sutton pouts, shifting on his feet as he looks for something to say, something to convey how he feels in this moment or maybe in general. "I wouldn't have had to break in if you hadn't been ignoring me for weeks." "I'll just be outside." Hayden interrupts and you're suddenly reminded of $hayden_his presence as you glance at $hayden_him. "Shout if you need me." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as $hayden_he steps out, pulling the front door shut behind $hayden_him before returning your attention to your older brother. "Please just tell me what's wrong," he begs, his brotherly anger morphing into brotherly sadness and you scold yourself for what you're about to put him through. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|hayden 6 (house boat) tell bro][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|hayden 6 (house boat) dont tell bro]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." He inhales sharply, and you watch him shift on his feet. "What do you mean?" He asks, his voice shaking with nerves, the question plain and simple, the answer anything but. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell him, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "I'm going die in three months." Time seems to slow to a stop, the silence is deafening and for a moment you think he's stopped breathing as he stares at you, mouth agape, $eye eyes wide and glossy with burgeoning tears and you feel your heart break for him. This isn't the first time he's received news like this, but it //is// the last and that's perhaps what makes it so difficult. "No," is all he manages to say, over and over as if it'll make it any less true, before he pulls you into his arms, his body shaking with sobs as he holds onto you, his grip tight and desperate. "Not you," he cries. "Why you?" You can only hug him back; you've long shed your tears, you screamed and you cried until inducing a skull splitting headache and then you cried some more, you got angry and you yelled and you punched the wall until your knuckles bled. Of course, it's easy for you, you've had a full month to reach the acceptance stage of your grief; Sutton only has these short few moments with you before you're running off again, leaving him to his heart break. You keep your arms around him, your hold on him just as tight as his on you, almost as if the two of you squeeze each other just enough, you'll get to hang on to this moment, this life, a little longer. "It's okay," you hear yourself say and it's weird to be the one doing the comforting here. You are the one that's dying after all, although whose to say that a piece of him won't die the same time you do. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell bro">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>"No, it's not," he says indignantly, pulling away from you to angrily wipe away his tears, though they're quickly replaced by more. "You're going to die! How is that at all okay?" You heave a sigh, shifting on the couch in a way that moves you away from your brother without really meaning to do so but ultimately leaves you feeling grateful for the experience. "I don't know," you reply, earnest. "I guess it's just one of the things you have to learn to be okay with." He huffs, unwillingly to accept your words as gospel and you can't exactly blame him for that. "Losing you isn't something I'll ever be okay with, $nickname. What are we going to do?" <<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell bro">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>His use of 'we' makes you smile, because of course he sees this as team effort between the two of you, before your mind flicks to your companion waiting for you outside in what you imagine is a less than patient manner and you're reminded of why you came home in the first place. Jumping to your feet, you startle him halfway out of his sadness and he watches you with wide eyes as you start for your bedroom. "I have to pack," you tell him and out of the corner of your eye, you see him rush after you. "What are you talking about?" He questions, his tone demanding and panicked, watching you with wide watery eyes as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet and begin tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a long story," you provide, and he's shaking his head before you're even able to finish speaking. "You can't just tell me that you're going to die and then up and leave immediately after." Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can throw it in your bag, he forces you to look at him and it feels as though your heart stops in your chest when you get a look at his face. You've managed to ruin him in just a few short minutes, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. Again, he pleads with you, "Just talk to me. " You heave a sigh and reach out to pull the shirt from his hands which he easily lets go of, staring at each other with an all-encompassing sadness and you sink down on the bed next to your half-unpacked bag. "It's just a roadtrip," you say, and he frowns at you. "And the brunette?" He asks, your mind drifting back to your companion waiting outside for you. "Who is $hayden_he?" "Hayden. I met $hayden_him at a support group." You hesitate for a moment, not completely sure why, you've come this far and said this much, there's no use in holding back now. "We're all going, the seven of us." Silence stretches on between you and for a moment you think that this is where it ends but then he sniffs, wipes his eyes yet again and takes the shirt back from you to fold it nicely. "I want to meet them," he says softly, avoiding looking at your face as he places the shirt in your bag, arbitrarily placed on top of the heap of unfolded items. "If they're going to be taking you on some trip, I want to know who these people are." "Okay," you agree and the two of you share a brief smile. He looks away from you then and to the contents of your bag, his frown taking over once again. "You never could pack a bag correctly," he scolds you, pulling out the articles of clothing you'd shoved in just moments before with a disappointed shake of his head and you can't help but grin at him. "Always gotta do it for you, huh?" Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Let's get this show on the road," he says, putting on a cheerful smile and tone of voice that you're able to see through immediately, though you choose not to comment on it. You're okay with him doing whatever he needs to do in order to cope and if it means acting like everything is okay, you're going to go along with it. You nod and with a final look in his eyes and shared smile, you grab your jacket from where you left it and step out the front door, letting him pull it closed behind you. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 tell bro_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"Nothing's wrong," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he arches an eyebrow up at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He crosses his arm over his chest in a huff and pouts at you, his bottom lip quivering slightly and you worry that he might cry anyway despite not even knowing the truth. "You're such a liar, $name," he grumbles, staring at you with an imploring look in his $eye eyes but you hold your ground. He's upset enough as it is; you're not about to shatter his heart beyond repair. When he realises you're not going to give in and tell him, he huffs again, throwing his arms down to his sides as he moves to sit next to you. "Fine, don't tell me. Will you at least tell me who that $hayden_gender is? The one you came with?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both alarm and confusion, he rushes after you as you walk to your bedroom. "What are you talking about?" He questions, his tone demanding and panicked, watching you with wide watery eyes as you pull an empty duffel bag from the back of your closet and begin tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a work thing," you provide and out of the corner of your eye, you see his face scrunch up in anger, his hands going to his hair and tugging on the thick, $hair_colour strands. "Stop lying!" He shouts and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "$name, your boss called me; you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you, he snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, the emotion on his face incredibly raw and open, his eyes welling up as he looks at you. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. Please, $nickname, I just want to help you." Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|h.6.hb.dtb][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|h.6.hb.dtb][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|h.6.hb.dtb][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|h.6.hb.dtb][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|h.6.hb.dtb][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your brother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "Just told my brother about my brain tumor." "How did he take it? Is he okay?" $hayden_He stares at you with wide, concerned eyes and for a moment you're taken aback by the sincerity in $hayden_his face, $hayden_his words, $hayden_his existence. Everything about Hayden is totally and completely genuine and it's disarming to say the least. You could stand to get used to it. "If I said anything less than awful, I'd be lying." You finally look away from $hayden_him, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "I'm so sorry, $name." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Your train eventually stops and together you walk back to the community centre. You find the rest of the group waiting for you in the parking lot and Adelaide immediately walks away from you to talk to Margaret, though you can't help but notice how she keeps holding your hand until she's too far away to continue doing so and even though she doesn't look back at you, your stomach flutters with butterflies. You're not left alone for long, however, as Hayden's eyes light up as soon as spotting you and $hayden_he makes $hayden_his way over. "You ready?" $hayden_He asks, $hayden_his smile brighter than you've ever seen and you wonder if there's anything that could possibly dampen $hayden_his mood, but then again; if $hayden_his failing heart couldn't slow $hayden_him down, what could? You take a deep breath as you nod, raising your bag slightly for $hayden_him to see and almost miraculously, $hayden_his smile widens. "Ready as I'll ever be," you say before glancing around the mostly empty parking lot. "Dare I ask how we plan on getting anywhere?" "I think Margaret said she had it covered," $hayden_he remarks, a contemplative look on $hayden_his face. "She didn't say much else though." You go to speak again when you're suddenly cut off by a loud car horn and both you and Hayden turn just in time to see an old volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. Only one thing comes to mind as you watch it drive towards your group: //hippie van// and that on it's own has Margaret written all over it. <<button "Next" "ch1p2 end">><</button>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. "So make it not complicated," Sutton huffs and you're taken back to a time when you were children, when the world seemed so unfair because you couldn't have everything you'd ever dreamed of, a living, breathing family being one of them. Your problems seemed so catastrophic back then, now it's all a little trivial in comparison. "It's not that easy," you reply, indignant and annoyed at the voice in your head that insists that is really that easy. You do your best to ignore it, the guilt building in chest, filling your lungs and throat, drowning you beneath the weight of your deception. "I just need you to trust me on this." You look at each other for a long moment before he sighs again. "Okay," he relents as he picks up the t-shirt and folds it nicely before placing it in your bag where it sits arbitrarily atop the rest of your unfolded clothes. "But you'll call right? No more radio silence?" "I promise," you say, frowning slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to his for a while. He looks away from you then and to the contents of your bag, his frown taking over once again. "You never could pack a bag correctly," he scolds you, pulling out the articles of clothing you'd shoved in just moments before with a disappointed shake of his head and you can't help but grin at him. "Always gotta do it for you, huh?" Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll miss you," he says, putting on a cheerful smile and tone of voice that you're able to see through immediately, though you choose not to comment on it. You're okay with him doing whatever he needs to do in order to cope and if it means acting like everything is okay, you're going to go along with it. "Don't forget to call." "I won't," you tell him as you pull him into a quick hug. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 dont tell bro_leave">><</button>>

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your brother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "No," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "I couldn't tell him about the tumour." "Oh." That's all $hayden_he can bring $hayden_himself to say because truthfully what is there for $hayden_him //to// say? Hayden's got it easy; a failing heart and a whole family to support $hayden_him, to hug $hayden_him and comfort $hayden_him on the bad days, to tell $hayden_him everything's going to be okay and that they're there for $hayden_him, that $hayden_he will never be alone because $hayden_he has them. $hayden_He doesn't know what it's like to just have one person, one person you'd do anything to protect from heartbreak, even if it means lying to their face. Even if it means dying without giving them a chance to say goodbye. $hayden_He doesn't understand how cruel and selfish you are. "I'm sorry." The apology is genuine, everything with Hayden is and maybe that's what makes it hurt even more. Because Hayden truly feels sorry for you, for the pain you're in, for the pain you're going to cause your brother. //So cruel. So selfish. So gut-wrenchinly painful you think you're going to be sick.// <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Your train eventually stops and together you walk back to the community centre. You find the rest of the group waiting for you in the parking lot and you find yourself walking towards Gabriel and the golden retriever sitting at his feet, shaking with barely contained excitement. "You brought Honey!" Hayden exclaims, crouching down and as if someone has flipped a switch, the dog pounces, no longer able to contain the glee and excitement any longer. "Couldn't leave without her," he replies, his voice cracking over his words in a way that tells you he hasn't all that much today, if at all. Hayden glances up at you both. "You guys ready?" Gabriel's quick to nod and you take a deep breath as you follow suit, raising your bag slightly as your own affirmative. "Ready as I'll ever be," you say before glancing around the mostly empty parking lot. "Dare I ask how we plan on getting anywhere?" "I think Margaret said she had it covered," $hayden_he remarks, a contemplative look on $hayden_his face. "She didn't say much else though." You go to speak again when you're suddenly cut off by a loud car horn and both you and Hayden turn just in time to see an old volkswagen van pull into the parking lot. Only one thing comes to mind as you watch it drive towards your group: //hippie van// and that on it's own has Margaret written all over it. <<button "Next" "ch1p2 end">><</button>>

Derek narrows his eyes at you, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket as he leans his hip against the island counter. "Sorry," he says, though it's obvious to you that he's not sorry at all, his tone of voice lacking any real conviction. "If it's any consolation, I did knock." "That would make me feel better if you hadn't broken in immediately after." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." "Well deserved, I think," he shrugs, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Since you've been avoiding me for a month." "I'll just be outside." Hayden interrupts and you're suddenly reminded of $hayden_his presence as you glance at $hayden_him. "Shout if you need me." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as $hayden_he steps out, pulling the front door shut behind $hayden_him before returning your attention to the man that raised you. "Alright; talk," he instructs, his face suddenly serious and you arch an eyebrow up at him, for some reason expecting him to say more and unnerved when he doesn't. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|hayden 6 (house boat) tell derek][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|hayden 6 (house boat) dont tell derek]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. "That's not a new concept, $name," he tells you. "Everyone's going to die." You're shaking your head before you even realise you're doing it. "I'm being serious." A deep, shuddering breath passes your lips as you glance between his face and the floor. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor; I'm going die in three months." He stares at you for a long moment, as if he simply can't comprehend what you've just told him, before he blinks and then all at once, the confusion leaves his face, his analytical eyes sharpening with crystal clear focus as he comes to sit next to you. "I'm guessing you've known for the past month." You nod as you look away from his face and somewhere at the carpet, you hear him sigh though and you wonder what's going through his mind. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, $name." "It's fine," you tell him with a shrug because even though it shouldn't be, it is, having long accepted this as your truth, your destiny, an inevitable fact of life. "No use being sad about it." <<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell derek">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>The man next to you scoffs and you finally look at him, somewhat confused by the exasperated look on his face. "I'm allowed to be sad about it," he tells you. "You're going to die for fuck's sake." "Well, yeah," you say, an uncertainty behind your words that you weren't expecting to make itself known, before quickly clearing your throat. "I just thought --" "That I'd be able to move on immediately after?" He supplies and you find yourself nodding along, though even as you think about it now, you can't pinpoint why you ever thought that was the case, and your reaction earns you another scoff and a sad smile. "This is different," he tells you, insists upon it actually, and your eyes widen ever so slightly at his next choice of words. "You're my kid, $nickname; of course, I'm not going to be able move on. You've been in my life longer than not; I don't even remember what it's like to live without you." It's strange to think about, Derek needing you as much as you need him, as much as a child needs a parent, but it makes sense; he's not your biological father and yet he spent the past thirty years acting as though he is. Your bond is not one easily breakable, that you should've been certain of all along. <<button "Derek clears his throat then and you bring your attention back to him, realising you never actually said anything in response, though judging from the look on his face, he doesn\'t seem to care. \"So, what now?\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell derek">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "I have to pack," you tell him and though a confused look takes over his face, he gets up and follows you to your bedroom, ready to help you pack if need be. "Going somewhere?" He questions, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "It's a long story," you provide, and he nods along, pulling out the clothing you'd hastily thrown in to fold them for you. "Right." Snatching a t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, he glances at you, his eyes alight with curiosity. "And your friend?" "Hayden. I met $hayden_him at a support group." Again, he nods but that's where the conversation ends. You like that he doesn't ask more questions, rather placing his trust in you that you know what you're doing. Truth be told, you have no idea what you're doing at any given point in time but you're glad he seems to think you do at least. It truly is the small things. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks and rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You'll call, right?" He asks and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to ask. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your heart instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. "No more radio silence?" You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his jacket. He smells of fresh cut grass and a body wash strangely titled //'Jagged Ice'//, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "You should go," he says, urging you towards the door, wiping away more tears. "I've kept you long enough." "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 tell derek_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he arches an eyebrow up at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. "Now, why don't I believe that, $nickname?" he asks. You shrug your shoulders, once again avoiding his eyes and you hear him sigh. "Right. And the $hayden_gender?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both concern and confusion, he follows you to your bedroom, though he makes no effort to help you. "Going somewhere?" He questions, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. "It's a work thing," you provide and he nods along, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest as if he has not a care in the world, but you know the man well and he has cares a plenty. "You wanna try that again?" He asks and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "$name, I've known you for thirty years; I know when you're lying." Approaching you, he snatches the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. "Also your boss called; you haven't been showing up to work." Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|h.6.hb.dtd][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|h.6.hb.dtd][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|h.6.hb.dtd][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|h.6.hb.dtd][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|h.6.hb.dtd][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your brother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag to your chest just a little tighter as you glance between the train car and $hayden_him. "I told him I'm gonna die," you say suddenly and he glances at you, grey eyes widened by curiosity. "How did he take it? Is he okay?" $hayden_He stares at you with wide, concerned eyes and for a moment you're taken aback by the sincerity in $hayden_his face, $hayden_his words, $hayden_his existence. Everything about Hayden is totally and completely genuine and it's disarming to say the least. You could stand to get used to it. "Pretty good, all things considered." You finally look away from $hayden_him, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "That's good." $hayden_He smiles at you. "I know that can't have been easy; I'm proud of you." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell Derek you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "No," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "I couldn't tell him about the tumour." "Oh." That's all $hayden_he can bring $hayden_himself to say because truthfully what is there for $hayden_him //to// say? Hayden's got it easy; a failing heart and a whole family to support $hayden_him, to hug $hayden_him and comfort $hayden_him on the bad days, to tell $hayden_him everything's going to be okay and that they're there for $hayden_him, that $hayden_he will never be alone because $hayden_he has them. $hayden_He doesn't know what it's like to just have one person, one person you'd do anything to protect from heartbreak, even if it means lying to their face. Even if it means dying without giving them a chance to say goodbye. $hayden_He doesn't understand how cruel and selfish you are. "I'm sorry." The apology is genuine, everything with Hayden is and maybe that's what makes it hurt even more. Because Hayden truly feels sorry for you, for the pain you're in, for the pain you're going to cause him. //So cruel. So selfish. So gut-wrenchinly painful you think you're going to be sick.// <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Asra raises an eyebrow up at you from their place atop your kitchen counter, mid chew with an opened bag of chips clutched loosely in their hands. "What?" they ask, feinging innocence so well you're almost inclined to believe they've never done anything wrong in their life. You know better than that though. "You can't just break in here and pretend like it's normal." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." "For the record, I didn't break in," they say just before tilting their head back to finish whatever chips are left in the bag. "You gave me a key." "For //emergencies//," you retort and they simply shrug in return. "I'll just be outside." Hayden interrupts and you're suddenly reminded of $hayden_his presence as you glance at $hayden_him. "Shout if you need me." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as $hayden_he steps out, pulling the front door shut behind $hayden_him before returning your attention to your best friend. "$hayden_He's hot," they quip as they jump off the counter, tossing the crumpled up chip bag somewhere near the bin before they turn to your fridge, pulling open the doors and scanning it's contents. "Where'd you find $hayden_him?" You heave a sigh and rest your head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers for you. "As, can you focus please?" "Oh, forgive me for trying to catch up." They roll their eyes before grabbing a can of knock-off cola and shutting the doors with a decisiveness that makes you wince. "It's not like you've been avoiding me for weeks. What's up with that, by the way?" You avoid looking at them but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you, watching and waiting for you to speak. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell them the truth. [[Just be honest.|hayden 6 (house boat) tell asra][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell them after all.|hayden 6 (house boat) dont tell asra]]

<<if ndef $PassageNo>><<set $PassageNo = 1>><</if>><<switch $PassageNo>><<case 1>>You've only just come to terms with ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid when the words roll off your tongue, fast and barely strung together in one coherent message. "I'm going to die." They narrow their eyes at you as they crack open their drink, take a sip, shift on their feet from side to the other. They drag a hand through their split dyed hair as they watch you with a suspicion that makes you wonder if you'd said anything at all. "Yeah, right," they say eventually, a scoff following their words and they take another hearty sip. "Very funny, $name." You roll your head to the side to face them fully and cross your arms over your chest. "It's not a joke," you insist. "I'm going to die in three months." "No, you're not," they say as they shake their head vehemently, refusing to see the truth for what it is. With raised eyebrows, you move to speak, to reaffirm the notion that you really are going to die but they cut you off quickly. "//No//, you're //not//. Tell me you're not." "Asra, why would I lie about something like that?" You huff, throwing your arms out and they pause at your tone, the exasperation underlying your words. Slowly, their face falls and they set the can down on the counter. "So, you're really..." You nod and they inhale sharply. "How?" You sigh again, looking at your best-friend with something close to defeat and you think for a moment that you've never seen them look so shell shocked. "I've got an inoperable brain tumor," you tell them, casually, nonchalant as if it were the weather you're discussing and not your impending death. "My doctor said there's nothing anyone can do; I've just got to ride it out." They approach the couch in silence, sitting down next to you as they stare at you with wide, frightened eyes, almost like they're afraid you'll bolt the second they get close. You'd never run from them, though. "God, that's so fucked," they mumble and when a lone tear slips down their cheek and around the curve of their jaw, they rush to wipe it away. "Tell me about it," you reply as you attempt a smile but it just feels hollow, like it's wrong to do so and perhaps it is. Death typically isn't something to smile about and in Asra's case, it's apparently wrong to breathe too.<<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell asra">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 2>>You open your mouth to speak, to ask if they're okay or maybe even crack a poorly-timed joke to try ease the tension, but they throw their arms around you before you can get a word out, hugging you so tight you think you might actually die right here and now from suffocation. "You can't die." They choke on their words and your heart gives a painful squeeze at the sound. "I don't know how to live without you." You raise your arms to hug them back, leaning forward to rest your cheek against the top of their head, the scent of their shampoo filling your nose. "I'm sorry," you tell them and you mean it. You're sorry for putting them through such pain and heartbreak, you're sorry the end is so close, the two of you hurtling towards it at break neck speed, you're sorry they're going to have to say goodbye sooner than they ever thought they would need it. To say that your situation is 'fucked up' is actually putting it lightly. "Don't apologise," they say, sniffling, their voice cracking with restraint as they do their best to not sob into your shirt, though you wouldn't blame if they did anyway. "It's not your fault." Oh, but it //is//. If only you'd worried for yourself a little more, seen your doctor sooner, stopped acting like everything was okay when it was the furthest possible thing from okay, maybe you wouldn't be here. Maybe you'd be sitting with a tumor that could actually be removed, rightfully ripped from your flesh and disposed of like the parasite it is instead of being forced to endure. Maybe then everything would //actually// be okay, not whatever faux bullshit facade you've been living. "Still," you say, ignoring your guilt and your blame, putting it aside and burying it deep inside you where you hope it never sees the light of day. If only that was the way these things worked. "I'm sorry for //us//."<<button "Next" "hayden 6 (house boat) tell asra">><<set $PassageNo = $PassageNo + 1>><</button>><<case 3>>They pull away from you suddenly, hastily wiping away the tears that have built up but refused to fall and you blink at them in surprise, wondering what comes next and what it means for the two of you. "So, three months," they say and their voice still shakes slightly but you can tell from the look on their face that they're determined to ignore it, to move on and you let them. Whatever they need to do to cope. "That's something, at least. Have any idea how you want to spend it?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "Yes, actually," you say and they stare up at you, curious and surprised you have an answer locked and loaded. "I have to pack." They're on their feet and following you to your bedroom in seconds, watching as you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "For what?" "It's a long story," you provide, and they nod along, reaching into the shelves of your closet to help you pack faster. "Okay then." For a moment, there's nothing but silence between you two as you pack in unison, though they take slightly more care in doing so by folding some of the articles of clothing, but they eventually clear their throat. "And the hot $hayden_gender?" "Hayden. I met $hayden_him at a support group; we're going on a road trip." Again, they nod but that's where the conversation ends. You don't know what to make of the silence, whether it's the good or bad kind, whether Asra is happy you're doing something you for yourself for once or if they're angry you're abandoning them just after dropping such a bomb on them, but you don't know that there's anything you can do about it. If Asra doesn't want to talk, you can't and won't force them to, you just wish this was all happening under different circumstances. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a weight lifted off your shoulders. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before they finally crack and pull you into their arms. "Be careful, alright?" They say, hugging you tight and you nod. "And pick up your damn phone when I call." "I will, I promise, As." Eventually you both pull away and despite their watery eyes and the tear running down their cheek that they hastily wipe away, they smile at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "Mind if I stay here for a while?" They ask, wiping away more tears with one and scratching the back of their neck with the other. "You can stay as long as you like," you say. "I'll miss you." You step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it, and they echo your sentiment. With final look in their eyes and a shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, hoping with everything you have that they're going to be okay without you. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 tell asra_leave">><</button>> <</switch>>

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way they narrow their eyes at you, you know they're unconvinced by that and you can't even blame them. "Yeah, sure, Pinnochio." They crack open their drink, take a sip, shift on their feet from side to the other. They drag a hand through their split dyed hair as they watch you with a suspicion that makes you shift in your seat like a guilty suspect. "And the hottie you came with?" Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "A friend," you tell them, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." They follow you to your bedroom, taking another sip of their drink as they watch you pull an empty duffel from the back of your closet before tossing in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them beforehand. "For what?" "It's a work thing," you provide and they nod along, leaning against the wall with a hand in the pocket of their jeans, looking way too casual for the situation at hand. "Okay, now that we've got the lie of the way, what's the truth?" They ask and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at them over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." "Your boss called, doofus; I know you haven't been showing up to work." Approaching you, they snatch the t-shirt from your hands before you can wrinkle it further, glancing at you out the corner of their eye. "Honestly, you shouldn't have made me your emergency contact if you didn't want me to find out. " Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|h.6.hb.dta][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|h.6.hb.dta][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|h.6.hb.dta][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|h.6.hb.dta][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|h.6.hb.dta][$filmmaker to true]]

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your mother you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "Yeah," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "Just told my best friend about my brain tumor." "How did they take it? Are they okay?" $hayden_He stares at you with wide, concerned eyes and for a moment you're taken aback by the sincerity in $hayden_his face, $hayden_his words, $hayden_his existence. Everything about Hayden is totally and completely genuine and it's disarming to say the least. You could stand to get used to it. "Well, not great, that's for sure." You finally look away from $hayden_him, directing your gaze to the window opposite you and you watch as the city passes by in a blur of colour. It's almost like time stops on the train but speeds up outside and the thought is both invigorating and unsettling. "I'm so sorry, $name." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down next to your bag. "It's complicated," you tell them and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. They only raise an eyebrow at you as they polish off their drink, setting the empty can on your dresser before coming to sit next to you. "Hate to break it to you, $nickname, but it's gonna take a lot more than that to make me drop it." They state, shrugging their shoulders so nonchalantly as if to reaffirm that //yes, it really is that simple after all//. "But if you're not ready to tell me, that's fine. Just promise me you'll tell me when you //are// ready, whenever that may be." "I promise, As." The words clog up your throat, refusing to leave and you almost choke trying to get them out. If you couldn't tell them now, you don't know how you'll ever be able to work up the courage to do so and you worry that you never will, that they'll have to find out from someone else that you dropped dead without them by your side, without saying goodbye. And you can't help but think you're a horrible person for lying to them. You realise then that they've moved to your closet, grabbing clothes and throwing them in your bag just as they'd watched you do. They don't know where you're going or what you plan on doing when you get there, frankly neither do you, but they continue on nonetheless, helping you despite being left in the dark about your plans, your //life//. //Horrible, awful person,// your conscience whispers, the words echoing against the walls of your mind like a sadistic chant. Finally with your combined efforts, you make it back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heart heavy with the grief of words unsaid. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before they finally crack and pull you into their arms. "Be careful, alright? Wherever you're going." They say, hugging you tight and you nod. "And pick up your damn phone when I call." "I will, I promise, As." Eventually you both pull away and they smile at you, bright and genuine, and you feel that same guilty feeling for lying to them again. "Mind if I stay here for a while?" They ask as they scratch at the back of their neck. "You can stay as long as you like," you say. "I'll miss you." You step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it, and they echo your sentiment. With final look in their eyes and a shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, hoping with everything you have that they'll forgive you when they find out the truth. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 tell dont_asra_leave">><</button>>

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell Asra you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "No," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "I couldn't tell them about the tumour." "Oh." That's all $hayden_he can bring $hayden_himself to say because truthfully what is there for $hayden_him //to// say? Hayden's got it easy; a failing heart and a whole family to support $hayden_him, to hug $hayden_him and comfort $hayden_him on the bad days, to tell $hayden_him everything's going to be okay and that they're there for $hayden_him, that $hayden_he will never be alone because $hayden_he has them. $hayden_He doesn't know what it's like to just have one person, one person you'd do anything to protect from heartbreak, even if it means lying to their face. Even if it means dying without giving them a chance to say goodbye. $hayden_He doesn't understand how cruel and selfish you are. "I'm sorry." The apology is genuine, everything with Hayden is and maybe that's what makes it hurt even more. Because Hayden truly feels sorry for you, for the pain you're in, for the pain you're going to cause them. //So cruel. So selfish. So gut-wrenchinly painful you think you're going to be sick.// <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

The old man scowls at you from his place leaning against the counter, wrinkled hands wrapped around the head of a walking stick which he tucks under his arm to sign at you. //"Don't be dramatic,"// he signs, and though his hands shake, the actual signs themselves coming out almost jagged and choppy, you understand him perfectly. "I'll be as dramatic as I want." You press your hand to your chest, doubling over slightly, your heart pounding against your ribcage in such a frenzy you think it might just break through the bone and muscle. Shaking your head, you walk over to your couch. "I gotta sit down; you almost gave me a fucking heart attack." //"You'll live."// He waves a hand at you, evidently done signing for the moment as he takes ahold of his cane once more, hobbling over to sit next to you and he sinks down onto the plush cushions with a grunt. "I'll just be outside." Hayden interrupts and you're suddenly reminded of $hayden_his presence as you glance at $hayden_him. "Shout if you need me." You nod, not bothering to say anything in response as $hayden_he steps out, pulling the front door shut behind $hayden_him before returning your attention to the man that raised you. //"Tell me why you've been avoiding me,"// he instructs, staring at you with that same stern, unwavering look in his eyes that he'd use on you when you were kid and he'd try to get you to admit any wrongdoings you might've done. It worked on you then and it's working on you now. Looks like fate has finally caught up to you, you have to tell him the truth. [[Just be honest.|hayden 6 (house boat) tell granpa][$tell_fam to true]] [[Actually, you don't want to tell him after all.|hayden 6 (house boat) dont tell granpa]]

"It's nothing," you say, the words rushing out of your mouth all too quickly for them to be believable and by the way he narrows his eyes at you, you know he's unconvinced by that and you can't even blame him. He watches you carefully, his emotions guarded well behind the stone-cold mask of his face and for a moment, you think you've never seen him as serious as he is now. //"Don't bullshit me, kid,"// he signs, dsigruntled. //"And your friend out there?"// Your mind flicks back to your companion, waiting for you outside in what you can only assume is a less than patient manner, and you jump to your feet, reminded of why you came home in the first place. "Hayden," you tell him, being purposely vague with your choice of words. "I have to pack." Watching you with a look on his face combining both concern and confusion, he struggles to his feet before following you to your bedroom. He bangs his cane against the floor to get you to look at him, watching him sign as you pull an empty duffel from the back of you closet and toss in random articles of clothing with little care of folding them before hand. //"Going somewhere?"// "It's a work thing," you provide and he nods along, shuffling across the floor to drop down on the corner of your bed with huff. //"What did I say about not bullshitting me?"// He asks and you halt in your tracks, wide eyed as you look at him over your shoulder like a deer caught in headlights, a t-shirt clutched in your hands. "I don't know what you mean." //"I got an email from your boss saying you haven't been showing up."// Reaching up, he grabs the t-shirt in your hands and you let it go immediately, not wanting to cause him anymore pain than he's already in. //"Why?"// Oh, right; //work//. You stopped showing up after that second week, you didn't see any need to anyway; when you think of how you want to spend the last months of your life, your job isn't exactly high up on your list. Or on it at all, when you really think about it. You work for a... [[commercial airline as a pilot.|h.6.hb.dtg][$pilot to true]] [[beauty salon as a hairdresser.|h.6.hb.dtg][$barber to true]] [[sports club as a swim coach.|h.6.hb.dtg][$coach to true]] [[law firm as a paralegal.|h.6.hb.dtg][$paralegal to true]] [[production company as a filmmaker.|h.6.hb.dtg][$filmmaker to true]]

<<set $job to true>><<if $pilot is true>>It was fun at first, flying around the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures, but the novelty wore off quick and the jetlag never quite leaves you no matter how long you sleep. And that's not even mentioning the fact that recently even the mere idea of stepping onto an airplane makes your already pounding head feel like it's going to explode. All things considered, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $barber is true>>For the most part, you enjoyed it. Sure, there were one or two or nine clients that were less than easy to work with and dozens of cuts, nicks and burns you got while working on someone's hair but you got to choose your hours and made really good money with tips but despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $coach is true>>It hadn't been your first choice, or even your second or third, but it pays the bills and is actually quite fun when you factor out the potential for drowning children; that only happened once anyway and it wasn't even your fault. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $paralegal is true>>Seven long years of law school, getting your degree and landing a cushy job at a big time law firm with PTO and dental care took so much out of you that recently you'd begun to think that all that hard work and all those long hours are what gave you the brain tumor in the first place but for a long time, the payoff seemed worth it. Of course, it was far from easy; some clients were impossibly infuriating to work with and you felt like crying more than once while mid-argument but you got a nice corner office in return and a big bonus whenever you managed to successfully close a case. But despite all that, you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>><<if $filmmaker is true>>For a long time, nothing else mattered as long as you achieved your dream of becoming a filmmaker and showing your art on the big screen for all the world to see. And then you finally made it and it was everything you thought it would be and more, you were finally happy, showing your films at festivals and even getting awarded for them. But then 'nothing else' started to matter again and you could no longer find any fulfillment in it no matter how many films you churned out. And though the praise kept coming, it stopped feeling like you earned it and you just can't convince yourself that that's something you want to do anymore, least of all with your life hurtling quite quickly and dramatically to its end right before your eyes. Simply put: having a job is no longer something that matters to you.<</if>> You take a deep breath and sit down between him and your bag. "It's complicated," you tell him and somewhere deep inside, your conscience scolds you and reminds you how glaringly simple it actually is. Brain tumor, impending death, last minute trip to send you off with a bang: not exactly rocket science here. He only raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh, realising he's not going to say more until you do. "I just need you to trust me on this." He glares at you but there's not any heat in his eyes, only an intense grief that you attribute to not seeing you for a month. //If only you weren't so stubborn. If only you weren't so selfish.// He grunts again, begrudgingly signing an //"Okay, I trust you"// and that's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his arms, hugging so tight it's as if your life depends on this moment of affection from your grandfather, and he hugs you back, his shaking hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You pull away before too long has passed, hastily wiping away tears you hadn't even realised had fallen in the first place, and you rush to finish packing. When you finally finish, you walk with him back to the front room with a fully packed bag and a heaviness in your heart. You look at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move, before he finally cracks first. //"Answer my messages,"// he says and it's a demand, a non-negotiable of him trusting you entirely and you frown slightly, saddened by his need to even say as much to you. It's your fault, of course, which is perhaps why it feels like a knife plunging in and out of your chest instead of the usual forlornness that comes with not speaking to him for a while. You nod and wordlessly pull him into a hug, your arms once again wrapped tight around his middle and your nose pressed into the fabric of his cardigan. He smells of laundry detergent and vanilla tobacco, both of which you've come to associate with him and with home, and you find yourself inhaling a little deeper, holding on a little longer. You don't when next you'll get to see him and with the amount of time you've already spent avoiding him, you need to savour every moment. Eventually you both pull away and despite his watery eyes and the tear running down his cheek that he hastily wipes away, he smiles at you, bright and genuine, and you get the feeling, for the first time in a long while, that everything's going to be okay. "I'll miss you," you tell him as you step up to the door, grabbing your jacket from where you left it and he echoes your sentiment. With final look in his eyes and shared smile, you step out the door and close it behind you, not bothering to question what he plans to do in your house and not caring either. He can stay as long as he wants, as long as he needs to. <<button "Next" "hayden 6 dont tell granpa_leave">><</button>>

You meet Hayden outside and $hayden_he arches an eyebrow up at you, somewhat expectantly, a small smile on $hayden_his face that you think is supposed to encourage you into telling $hayden_him what happened inside but you can't find it in yourself to actually put it into words just yet. "Don't ask," you say and though $hayden_he can't keep the surprise off $hayden_his face, $hayden_he nods nonetheless and follows you when you begin the walk back to the train station. Your thoughts remain uncharacteristically silent as you walk together and for that you're thankful. So much as already happened in such a short time frame that it's almost difficult to comprehend and perhaps that's what's keeping the thoughts at bay, an information overload that's managed to shortcircuit your brain. You're not complaining though; you're long overdue for some peace and quiet. You arrive at the station just in time to catch your train and you grab the first open seats you can find, not caring that it means being pressed up against a random stranger and having to carry your bag on your lap. Hayden drops down next to you and you catch $hayden_him watching you out of the corner of your eye, a strange look on $hayden_his face that you don't really know what to make of. Thankfully $hayden_he breaks the silence for you. "Is everything okay?" $hayden_he asks and you notice how $hayden_he twists $hayden_his fingers nervously, as if $hayden_he's more worried about the situation than you are. Like $hayden_he's the one who couldn't tell your grandfather you're three months away from dropping dead. But despite you telling the brunette not to ask, you answer $hayden_him anyway. "No," you say, hugging your bag just a little tighter as you glance between her and the other passengers on the train. There's a man doing the crossword. A group of teens laughing and pushing each other. A woman braiding the hair of the little girl sitting on her lap. All regular people; you wonder if any of them are dying too. "I couldn't tell him about the tumour." "Oh." That's all $hayden_he can bring $hayden_himself to say because truthfully what is there for $hayden_him //to// say? Hayden's got it easy; a failing heart and a whole family to support $hayden_him, to hug $hayden_him and comfort $hayden_him on the bad days, to tell $hayden_him everything's going to be okay and that they're there for $hayden_him, that $hayden_he will never be alone because $hayden_he has them. $hayden_He doesn't know what it's like to just have one person, one person you'd do anything to protect from heartbreak, even if it means lying to their face. Even if it means dying without giving them a chance to say goodbye. $hayden_He doesn't understand how cruel and selfish you are. "I'm sorry." The apology is genuine, everything with Hayden is and maybe that's what makes it hurt even more. Because Hayden truly feels sorry for you, for the pain you're in, for the pain you're going to cause him. //So cruel. So selfish. So gut-wrenchinly painful you think you're going to be sick.// <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Thank you." //(+Genuine)(+Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship + 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"It is what it is." //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">"Whatever." //(+Aggressive)(-Hayden)//</div>' 'h.6.dtml.2'>><<set $h_ship to Math.clamp($a_ship - 10, 0, 100)>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $apartment to true>>A stark contrast to Hayden's penthouse, your apartment is small, perhaps //too// small for its residents, being you and a man you are almost certain is a drug lord, but it's home and it has been for years. The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and $hayden_he practically leaps out of $hayden_his seat, eagerly following where you lead. It's not a very long walk from the station to the docks but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a fact that seems to enthrall Hayden as $hayden_he takes in the sights around $hayden_him like a tourist on foreign land. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you turn onto your street and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Hayden watching you with a twinkle in $hayden_his eyes as you led $hayden_him to your building. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "hayden 5 (apartment) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Hayden looks up at the building in awe, $hayden_his brown eyes practically bugging out of $hayden_his head like a cartoon character and you have to stifle a laugh. "Uh huh." You follow $hayden_his eyes to the house and smile. It's a four-storey structure, unassuming and squeezed in between two much larger buildings on either side of it. It's a little rundown, weeds growing up the side, the bricks cracked in a few places and almost an entirely new colour, weathered by time, but it's your home and you're happy with it, even if you do have to share with it a questionable roommate. You look back to the $hayden_gender standing next to you and when you see $hayden_he can't seem to look away, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">tease $hayden_him. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'hayden 5 (apartment) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave $hayden_him be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'hayden 5 (apartment) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise $hayden_him. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'hayden 5 (apartment) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"I know it's not much," you start, doing your best to keep a straight face and Hayden whips $hayden_his head around to look at you. "But it's home." $hayden_His brown eyes widen, almost comically, and $hayden_he quickly shakes $hayden_his head. "Are you kidding? It's adorable!" $hayden_He looks back at your floating house, face lit up like a kid in a candy store, and you're no longer able to keep the smile off your face, amused at your friends reaction. You chuckle as you move towards the front door, pulling your keys from your pocket before you glance back at $hayden_him. "Oh, and if my roommate's home, don't take anything he offers you." $hayden_He looks at you curiously as you lead $hayden_him up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. "I made that mistake years ago and I still haven't recovered." "Deal!" $hayden_He says and you share a smile as you unlock the front door and hold it open for her as you enter. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and $hayden_he quickly turns $hayden_his attention to you. "I won't take long," you say and $hayden_he nods, that easy going smile of $hayden_his making a home on $hayden_his face. "No problem," $hayden_he tells you and you nod before turning towards your building, pulling your keys from your pocket as you enter and climb the stairs to your apartment. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes with a huff $hayden_he quickly turns $hayden_his attention back to you. "Are you done?" you grumble. "We don't have all day." "Sorry," $hayden_he says, smiling apologetically. "I didn't mean to stare; it's really nice." <<nobr>>"Yeah, whatever," you mutter before turning towards your building, pulling your keys from your pocket as you enter and climb the stairs to your apartment. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $house to true>>When you bought it from the bank at an auction almost a decade ago for next to nothing, the house itself was a disaster. Unlivable, riddled with mold and rats, and downright hideous to look at, it needed a lot of TLC and you spent every second of your free time and every scent you could spare on building your dream home. It took a lot out of you to get it to where it is now but you wouldn't change it for anything. The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and $hayden_he practically leaps out of $hayden_his seat, eagerly following where you lead. It's not a very long walk from the station to the docks but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a fact that seems to enthrall Hayden as $hayden_he takes in the sights around $hayden_him like a tourist on foreign land. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you turn onto your street and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Hayden watching you with a twinkle in $hayden_his eyes as you led $hayden_him to your house. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "hayden 7 (house) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Hayden looks up at the house in awe, $hayden_his brown eyes practically bugging out of $hayden_his head like a cartoon character and you have to stifle a laugh. "Uh huh." You follow $hayden_his eyes to the house and smile. It's a two-storey structure, with two bedrooms, three bathrooms and an open floor plan downstairs that combines the kitchen, dining room and living room. Beautifully trimmed rose bushes line the sides of the house and a stone pathway leads around to the backyard where a swimming pool and gazebo, handbuilt by you, await. You look back to the $hayden_gender standing next to you and when you see $hayden_he can't seem to look away, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">tease $hayden_him. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'hayden 7 (house) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave $hayden_him be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'hayden 7 (house) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise $hayden_him. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'hayden 7 (house) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"Something wrong?" you start, doing your best to keep a straight face and Hayden whips $hayden_his head around to look at you. $hayden_His brown eyes widen, almost comically, and $hayden_he quickly shakes $hayden_his head. "Are you kidding? It's gorgeous!" $hayden_He looks back at your house, face lit up like a kid in a candy store, and you're no longer able to keep the smile off your face, amused at your friends reaction. "I'd kill to live in a place like this." "Woah, let's not be hasty," you laugh as you pull your keys from your pocket. "I'll be gone in three months anyway and then I promise it's all yours." "Deal!" $hayden_He says and you share a smile before you step up the pathway together. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $impassive to Math.clamp($impassive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 5, 0, 100)>>You clear your throat and $hayden_he quickly turns $hayden_his attention to you. "I won't take long," you say and $hayden_he nods, that easy going smile of $hayden_his making a home on $hayden_his face. "No problem," $hayden_he tells you and you nod before turning towards your building, pulling your keys from your pocket as you step up the pathway to the front door. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $agressive to Math.clamp($agressive + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship - 10, 0, 100)>>You roll your eyes with a huff $hayden_he quickly turns $hayden_his attention back to you. "Are you done?" you grumble. "We don't have all day." "Sorry," $hayden_he says, smiling apologetically. "I didn't mean to stare; it's really nice." <<nobr>>"Yeah, whatever," you mutter before turning towards your building, pulling your keys from your pocket as you walk up the pathway to the front doort. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>

<<set $rv to true>>What used to be a double decker bus that you bought for dirt cheap at a scrap yard is now a furnished home, equipped with it's own gas heater, solar panels and most impressively, to you at least, a fully functioning bathroom. Of course you need a reliable water source if you really want to make use of the shower for an extended period of time, which is mostly what has you parked in the trailer park, but you still prefer it over a standard house. After all, where's the fun if you can't drive your home away at a moment's notice? The train lurches to a stop, the conductor announcing that it's finally your turn to get off and you touch your companions arm as you get up. "Let's go," you say and $hayden_he practically leaps out of $hayden_his seat, eagerly following where you lead. It's not a very long walk from the station to the docks but it does give you an opportunity to get your daily steps in, a fact that seems to enthrall Hayden as $hayden_he takes in the sights around $hayden_him like a tourist on foreign land. <<nobr>>Soon enough, you turn onto your street and without really meaning to, you speed up, eager to get to your home, Hayden watching you with a twinkle in $hayden_his eyes as you led $hayden_him to the trailer park. <span class="next"><<button "Next" "hayden 8 (rv) 1">><</button>></span><</nobr>>

"//This// is where you live?" Hayden looks up at the RV in awe, $hayden_his brown eyes practically bugging out of $hayden_his head like a cartoon character and you have to stifle a laugh. "Uh huh." You follow $hayden_his eyes to the house and smile. Downstairs is your kitchen, bathroom and living area with a small eating nook in the far end, and is suprisingly spacious for all that's packed into it. Upstairs is your bedroom and storage area, private enough that you often feel like you're only the person in the world. You look back to the $hayden_gender standing next to you and when you see $hayden_he can't seem to look away, you decide to... <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <<link '<div class="choice-item">tease $hayden_him. //(+Genuine)//</div>' 'hayden 8 (rv) 2'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">leave $hayden_him be. //(+Impassive)//</div>' 'hayden 8 (rv) 3'>><</link>> <<link '<div class="choice-item">antagonise $hayden_him. //(+Aggressive)//</div>' 'hayden 8 (rv) 4'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<set $genuine to Math.clamp($genuine + 10, 0, 100), $h_ship to Math.clamp($h_ship + 10, 0, 100)>>"I know it's no penthouse," you start, doing your best to keep a straight face and Hayden whips $hayden_his head around to look at you. "But it's home." $hayden_His brown eyes widen, almost comically, and $hayden_he quickly shakes $hayden_his head. "Are you kidding? This is incredible!" $hayden_He looks back at your house on wheels, face lit up like a kid in a candy store, and you're no longer able to keep the smile off your face, amused at your friends reaction. "I'd kill to live in a place like this." "Woah, let's not be hasty," you laugh as you pull your keys from your pocket. "I'll be gone in three months anyway and then I promise it's all yours." "Deal!" $hayden_He says and you share a smile before you step on board together. Inside, you flick on the light and begin to shrug off your jacket just as your eyes land on the figure in your kitchen and a scream rips itself from your lungs. <<if $mother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the hell, mom!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) mom">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $brother is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Sutton!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) brother">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $grandfather is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, grandpa!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) granpa">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $bestfriend is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Asra!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) asra">><</button>></span><</if>><<if $derek is true>><span class="next"><<button "\"What the fuck, Derek!\"" "hayden 6 (house boat) derek">><</button>></span><</if>>