i know that i've got issues

but you're pretty messed up t o o . . .

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The next morning, once I could grasp my surroundings after ingesting an unnecessary amount of mimosas at the bridal shower, I was in the bedroom I'd grown up in. A room that, no matter how many times I'd visit it, would feel like walking through a time warp.

I rolled over like a slug in the full-sized bed I despised to this day, and my arm splayed across the plane of a chest. By the time I'd fulfilled my growth spurt and stopped at a staggering five-foot-ten, it felt more like a baby crib rather than my eldest brother's hand-me-down mattress. How he ever slept in it by being six foot tall, I had no idea.

Obviously it wasn't getting any better with time. Sleepovers weren't something that ever really occurred at my house in my younger years, for both reasons of too many people living there already and not enough room to host any friends.

My eyes flickered open one at a time, my vision clouded yet still able to identify Gus' sleeping figure next to mine. The lumpy comforter was pushed down towards his waist, with one arm cradled behind his head and the other against his stomach. Rather than disturbing him too much, I cherished the stillness of my childhood room and nuzzled my head into his side, greeted with the soft cotton of a t-shirt. Which was surprising, considering he hardly ever slept with a shirt on. I rested my arm on top of his, outlining the limb until my hand reached his, and sleepily half-smiling when he instinctively curled his fingers against mine.

Somehow, my mom convinced Gus and me to stay the night after Sutton's shower ended. It was only five o'clock by the time the party was over and everyone left but the few of us who had to clean up. We easily could've drove home; but I was drunk, Gus was tired, and my parents wanted more time with us. All I truly cared about was sleeping off the love affair I'd had with the champagne all afternoon, whether that was back at our apartment or in the town that raised us.

And so we found ourselves foraging my parents' house for clothes to crash in for the night.

It remained the same, my old bedroom. With high school photos and posters of adolescent heartthrobs tacked on the periwinkle walls, cheap and eternally sticky shot glasses on display shelves, and a permanent stain in the carpet by my old makeup desk. I precisely remembered where that stain came from – back when I drank sugar-injected liquor like water. When Collin and I would pregame parties in my bedroom with nauseating, alcoholic concoctions that somehow never got us sick. When we'd get just a little too drunk and end up spilling half of our drinks on my floor.

Granted, they were incredible times, I just couldn't imagine doing it again. My body would deteriorate if I came within arms-reach of that lifestyle again.

The warm daylight spilling through the shades, golden and welcoming, told me I'd slept for long enough. Though under the covers with Gus' breathing and Ziggy's irregular snores across the room was like my own peculiar lullaby, and I could've dozed off for days.

Gus, never having been a late sleeper, rose from his state of slumber with a deep inhale just as that thought crossed my mind.

"Mmm," he hummed, the sound rumbling through his chest to my skull.

"Morning," I said in a small voice. "Did you sleep okay?"

He yawned, albeit dramatically, for an answer. Then he whispered, "Yeah." He freed his arm from underneath mine as our fingers separated, and instead snaked it behind me to pull my body closer to his. I could feel his heartbeat right underneath of my ear resting on his pec.

Our feet were wrestling with one another, a weak fight due to our drained bodies. Toes brushing because we had no other choice for our lack of room.

"I hate this bed," I thought aloud.

"Me too."

"This brings me back to senior year of high school, when I'd sneak you in here all the time. Before I even told my parents that we were dating. Somehow we kept it a secret," I reminisced with a sentimental smile pulling at my lips, while a muted yearning to be so young and untroubled again bubbled inside me.

Gus let out a breathy chuckle through his nose and tightened his grip on me. "Hard to believe they never found out considering you're a horrible liar and you can't keep secrets for shit."

"That is so not true!" I craned my neck to look at him, my eyebrows furrowing in exasperation and my voice going several octaves higher than normal when defending myself. It wasn't too much of a serious dirty look I gave him, because I was fighting back a grin since we both knew it most certainly was true.

"Are you kidding me?" He spat through a contagious, hearty laugh. "My twenty-first birthday. Need I say more? You were literally going over the plans with Dean in the kitchen when I was home."

I narrowed my eyes as the animated conversation I had with Dean, my favorite and the most loyal guy out of Gus' cronies, replayed itself in my mind. In true jackass fashion, I paid no mind to the fact that Gus was in the apartment at the time of our phone call. I'd kept the surprise party a secret for months and ruined it a week before we'd scheduled it.

He had a point.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have been eavesdropping on my conversation," I sneered under my breath.

"It was impossible not to eavesdrop. You remember how thin those walls were in our old apartment, they were more like room dividers. You could hear everything," he said with a shake of his head, and I joined him in staring at the ceiling to reminisce about our lousy first abode outside of our parent's homes or a college dorm.

"True, and it was a studio, so it's not like I had anywhere to hide and have private phone calls. Not that that would have stopped you because you're the nosiest person on the planet," I snickered. When I heard him scoff, I went on with my playful insults. "I might be the world's worst liar and secret keeper, but you literally cannot mind your own business. You're a professional snooper."

He didn't bother arguing with me because he knew I was right, so he settled for a sigh instead. His hand that was propping his head up came down to meet mine that was lying limp on his stomach, his fingers skimming over it until our thumbs lazily slotted together.

"We're quite a duo, huh?" He said then.

"I'm surprised anybody can tolerate us."

"At least we tolerate each other."

I grunted in amusement. "Yeah. Sort of."

There was an underlying truth to those words. Between the sarcasm, the lighthearted digs, the tongue-in-cheek humor. There was a double meaning in all of it.

Sometimes we worked. Other times, we didn't. It was a silent agreement we never brought to light, a mutual understanding about our relationship. From day one, it had been that way.

Gus and I could be really, really good and it was second nature to us. It was so goddamn effortless for us to be the kind of couple that single people admired because we worked so well together to the point where we were like one single unit. Knowing each other's thoughts without having to speak, undeniable and insatiable chemistry, a promising reassurance that when it felt like there was no one on our side, we'd always have each other.

But in a switch, we could be the kind of couple that people questioned why the hell we were still together. Just absolutely nasty and cutthroat and unforgiving. Bickering wasn't even a word when it came to us – we had downright brawls. Cursing over trivial matters, refusing to communicate, sleeping in separate rooms or separate buildings, faking smiles around others for the sake of hiding the true colors of our relationship.

We were like two fucked up human dominoes. Upright and all well, then down and demolished with the slightest wrong move.

It was supposed to be that way when you found the one, right? Love was never meant to be easy, wasn't that what every mushy pop song and romance novel was about? Didn't every historic pair of soulmates go through trials and tribulations, but despite it all, have a pure, unconditional love?

It was all I'd known for six years, seven months, and however many days. It was routine, it was our life.

But then sometimes I'd think maybe we were destined to be together. We were the end game, because what other person in the world could handle Gus? What kind of person out there could handle me, other than Gus? We weren't stuck, we were accustomed, because why else would we stay together for so long if it wasn't worth it?

We were as good as it was going to get and that was just it.

The tips of Gus' fingers trailing up and back on my forearm abruptly brought me back to reality. His touch, his voice, his eyes – they were sure-fire ways to capture my attention no matter how many times I'd seen or felt or heard it all.

"You're right. You're actually intolerable. I only keep you around because you cook, you clean, and you're a great lay."

"You're an asshole." I said it with a smirk as I glanced up at him, though I'd said it plenty of times in every emotion imaginable. Smile or no smile, I couldn't deny that statement.

But, I guess, he was my asshole.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me."

I had a chance to laugh before he rolled on top of me, planting his lips onto my cackling mouth.

It probably would've gone from silly to heated in a matter of seconds, as it usually did with us, had Ziggy not heard all the commotion. At the sound of our laughter and creaking of the undersized mattress, he woke up. He hopped right onto the bed with us, and attempted wiggling his way between our bodies, probably wondering why his mom and dad were having fun without him.

It was a different kind of morning for us, and it reminded me all the more reason why I loved our chaos.

〰️〰️〰️

My household growing up never knew silence. Like normality, no one in my family ever really acknowledged it. I never thought the Barclay residence would ever see a day of tranquility.

There was always too much going on with us, and that was what we were known for in town. That family with the four rowdy kids who were always involved in something, whether it be good or bad. That family with a lieutenant on the Clearloft police department for a father, and a real estate agent mother who never seemed to sit down and take a breath. That family who left a mark on their hometown, whether anyone liked it or not.

Nowadays, with three out of four kids moved out and the two-story structure only occupied by my parents and Asher, the youngest of my siblings, it'd make sense that those days of us wreaking havoc wherever we could manage were gone.

Not in the slightest.

By the time Gus and I emerged from my room, sluggish with a hankering for a greasy, fast-food, hangover cure-all breakfast and Ziggy in tow, it was clear to me that nothing had changed. Despite the lack of offspring living in it, the house was still just as wild as ever.

My mom, who had a voice like a foghorn, was on a business call in the kitchen. Every word she spoke was penetrating, in work and in life, and it was probably the only way she survived bringing up the four of us. My dad, retired from the police force since I'd finished college and living his best, was howling with laughter at the TV in the living room. It was good to see him so mellow these days, for so many years I saw him ridden with angst and stress from his job. Asher, the most reserved and intelligent one among my siblings (including myself), was right beside my dad on the couch with his laptop in front of him. Eighteen and nearing his high school graduation in the spring, he was set on entering the world of film production, so it was likely that he was attempting to do homework.

Gus, Ziggy, and I rounded the corner into the living room and saw exactly what was happening then – my dad and brother on the couch, and my niece Madelyn spread out on the area rug with coloring books, crayons, juice boxes, and her choice of TV show playing. It'd been established long ago that whenever the first grandkid was over, she got to rule to house. And rule the house she did.

As if there weren't enough people in this family, my oldest brother Duncan added another to the bunch and gave my parents the gift of their first grandchild a little earlier than anticipated. He was twenty-two at the time. I'd always been nervous about approaching my early twenties because of this, but since I'd made it to twenty-three and definitely was not with child, I felt much better about it.

Madelyn was the result of an unprotected fling my brother had with a girl he knew from high school. They were never a steady couple, one of those on-again, off-again types, and they never reconciled after the pregnancy. He was too much of a devil-may-care soul for her, but she wasn't much better. They just couldn't make it work. So, Duncan took care of Madelyn on the weekends since that worked with his schedule of being a firefighter in a town neighboring Clearloft, and his ex-flame had Madelyn during the week. That was the way it'd been since her birth.

Now, Madelyn was seven years old, Duncan was a few months away from being thirty, and he continually had a crisis about it. Both about himself getting older, and his daughter growing too fast.

Since Duncan was nowhere in sight, my parents had to have been watching Madelyn all day. Every now and then he'd drop her off to spend a day at her grandparents, to save the last shred of sanity he had as well as give my parents some time with their little bundle of love. She hardly even noticed Gus and me once she saw Ziggy, who was likely her favorite creature ever. Her coloring came to a halt as she called him over, and he more than happily galloped to her and showered her in kisses. I followed his footsteps and knelt down by them, Madelyn sparing a second of petting him to give me a quick hug.

"Are you recovered from yesterday yet?" My dad asked me when he took his eyes off whatever kooky cartoon Madelyn was making them watch. Though he seemed to be getting a kick out of it, a grin lingering on his face from all his laughing.

I rolled my eyes before rubbing at them since I still wasn't quite awake. "Not at all. I'm on a champagne strike until the wedding," I said.

"Yeah, like I believe that," he snorted. Gus shuffled to the couch and took a seat next to him, chuckling quietly at my dad's lame dig at me, to which I just shook my head at the two of them.

My mom either had perfect timing or ended her work call early once she heard Gus and I were up. She came frolicking into the living room with a look on her face like she had a plan. She hadn't even gotten a word out and I was already dreading it.

"Oh, hi guys. Are you hungry?" She asked, propping her hands on her hips.

Gus, Asher, and I all chorused desperately, "Yes."

I was about to add on the fact that I was mentally drooling just imagining a McDonald's hash brown, breakfast sandwich, and Coke, but my mom had a more civilized, polished idea. She also wasn't hungover.

"Alright! Perfect. Let's all go out to brunch," she suggested, but we all knew it was more of a command than anything. There were mixed feelings about it and the second my lips even separated to speak up, she was waving me off. "Come on. We have Maddy for the day, two of my four children are here, and even Gus came along. Let's celebrate!"

"Mom, didn't we do enough celebrating yesterday?" I whined the question. She simply gave me an answer with a threatening glance. "Also, Gus and I have no other clothes to wear besides this–" I gestured dramatically by pointing to him and myself, "–and what we wore yesterday. We're crusty."

In theory, a nice Sunday family outing wouldn't be totally terrible. I'd get my hangover breakfast which would probably be more satisfying than a greasy, lukewarm hash brown that would come back to haunt me later on. I'd get to spend a little extra time with my parents, my little brother, and my one and only niece. It'd be a change of scenery from the grungy city that Gus and I were habituated to.

But brunch attire wasn't my dad's XL t-shirt I slept in that could undoubtedly pass for a dress and my fuzzy crew socks, nor was it the old t-shirt and sweatpants that Asher had lent to Gus for the night. It also wasn't the teeny, satin blush pink dress and strappy nude heels I wore to the shower yesterday either.

My mom dismissed this whole dilemma with another wave of her hand, and that was how we ended up at one of our favorite local brunch spots dressed exactly how we were, rowdy as hell in standard, Barclay fashion.

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- so we see a different side to gus and bayla's relationship in this chapter! those two are def a little all over the place lol. but tbh not every relationship is constantly a smooth ride full of smiles – love is work and it ain't always pretty, but it's worth it. alright enough of my preaching. thoughts on these two and their slightly dysfunctional love?? we've finally met most of bayla's fam now, except for duncan who will appear eventually. i hope you're enjoying this story so far bc we've got a loooong way to go, y'all.

so i've been sick for like a week now and i honestly can't wait for winter to be over and for the nice weather to return and to have summer and go to the beach and get a tan and UGH. I MISS IT. i hate being cold and sick and i just get so unmotivated this time of year lol. BUT I HAVE EXCITING NEWS!! i just booked a trip with 3 of my best friends and we're going to utah for a week in may!!! i am STOKED. it's gonna be so much fun i can't WAIT. if anyone has any reccos for what i should do while i'm out there, hit me up.

wish me luck that i can finally kick this cold in the ass. eat your veggies and wash your hands please. thanks for reading. love ya lots!

xoxo, sabbbycat