( Part 2 of Good Lord by Birds of Tokyo requested by @_Mad_Cat_ )

(f/I/f) = favorite Icee flavor.

f/b = favorite book.

Also, I really hope you're a marvel fan...! ':D Sorry if you're not! I'm really tired and didn't do much editing so I'm sorry if it's crap because I really wanted to put SOMETHING on this dead collection of stories. Hope you enjoy!

Five months later...

You sit quietly at the round kitchen table, drawing an invisible circle on the wood with your ring finger. Your (e/c) eyes are as distant as the time you first woke up in the hospital. There weren't many things that excited you nowadays besides a really, really good drink and a good night of reading. Mostly the drinks, though.

Right now, you were reading a pretty good book. It was (f/b), and it was probably your favorite so far.

I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah!

Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenhe-eit!

You take your phone and look at the picture of Henrik, groaning. You don't feel like talking to anyone right now. Or ever, actually. You turn the sound off and go back to reading. The phone's buzz obnoxiously vibrates for a few seconds before shutting off again. You knew it wouldn't be long before it stopped, though; David had stopped calling after a month - you weren't all that close, to be honest - and Veronica at three. It was only a matter of time before Henrik did, too.

You look away from the phone with a mixture of shame, anger and sorrow. You could call them all, start talking again, maybe make good memories...

You sigh. You just don't have the energy.

As you down another mouthful of Budweiser, you continue reading as your phone dings, reminding you that Henrik hasn't given up quite yet. He's even left a voicemail for you.

He does that every time, you grumble to yourself. He calls you every Monday. You answer occasionally. Lately, you haven't been feeling up to answering, so you leave it to ring. It wasn't like your conversations were all that special anyways; just a lot of "how are you" "maybe we could hang out sometime?" and awkward silences.

He's trying, Y/N, your little voice sighs. You should, too.

"I am," you growl out loud. "I just... can't. I can't."

It feels good to say it, but only temporarily. You shake your head to clear out the intruding thoughts and continue your nightly activities; drinking, reading, and being completely alone.

/_-|-_

Henrik impatiently taps the table. Every Monday night, he calls Y/N. He knows she doesn't answer anymore, but he knows what it's like to lose a spouse. It was the car accident that made him worry for her; right on the night after Malek had kicked her out, too. What an awful experience it must have been.

He can still remember the look on her bloodied face; the pain, the fear, the disorientation.

Henrik shudders and stops tapping. He sighs and looks out the window, his blue eyes drifting lazily over the city. He's memorized just about every single outline and light of the tall buildings around him - he lives right in the heart of the city, close to work - but he can't think of much else to do but worry.

Maybe she'll call back, an optimistic voice says. You never know.

But he's sure at this point that she won't. Maybe he should try every other Monday instead... maybe he's irritating her.

I just want to help, he thinks dolefully, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Well, if he wanted to help, there had to be something else he could do...

His eyes open suddenly, an idea coming to mind. What good was he if he just sat around, hoping and praying? It was time to take action, and the time was far overdue.

/_-|-_

A few weeks later...

You wake up early that morning. You look over at your alarm clock, which tells you that it's 10:12. You have two hours before you have to go work. You groan and lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

Why do I even get out of bed?

You sigh at the question. You've been asking it a lot for the past few months. It was about time you got a damn answer, too. Your eyelids flutter tiredly. You stared at the ceiling for a while, just beginning to drift off-

KNOCK KNOCK!

You jolt upright, startled by the sound. You look around the room with a yawn, thinking that, possibly, you'd dreamed it.

KNOCK! Knock, KNOCK!

Or... not.

"One second!" you yell at the top of your lungs as you slide out of bed. You grab your dark sweatshirt and throw it over yourself before leaving your bedroom behind you. You trudge down the hallway and into the kitchen, walking past your little round table and the living room. You look out the intentionally-blurry window of the door, trying to make out the face. You can't quite tell who it is. Cautiously, you grab the door handle and prepare yourself to fight or flee. Slowly the door opens, and a familiar face is revealed as you peek out and into the sunny world.

Henrik Schneeplestein himself stands there, a large box in hand, and a grin on his visage.

"Y/N, Y/N!" he greets cheerfully and welcomes himself in. Before you can push him away, he wraps you in a tight hug—all while trying to balance the box in his hands—and even swings you around a little.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey," you wheeze, feeling suffocated. Your face is buried in his shoulder, and you can't see much past your messy hair.

"I have missed my little nurse in training!" he exclaims happily, finally letting go of you and nearly dropping the box.

"Why are you... why are you here?" you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eye.

"Like I said," he answers with a shrug, "I missed you. We don't talk often."

"Yeah..." you say awkwardly, clearing your throat. You both stand there for a moment, an uncomfortable silence plaguing the air.

He clears his throat. "Vell, erm, I have brought a gift!" He lifts the top of the box up and shows you what's inside. "Your favorite."

Inside are thick cookies with frosting on them, and you can tell that they're still warm. But, the frosting spells something, too;

Happy Birthday, Y/N!

"Henrik..." you say quietly. You haven't had these in... well, five months. And, what's more, you completely forgot about your birthday.

"I remember you always begging to stop and get some vhen I used to drive you to your old job," he says. There was a time, long ago, before you had started college when you worked at a small flower shop. But you'd known Henrik long before then, too. You spent your junior and senior years together in high school. "I thought zhat maybe you vould like zhem?"

You stare into the box, and you have to stop your eyes from misting up. After all this time of you ignoring his calls, avoiding long conversations with him, taking his loyalty for granted...

He was still here.

"Thank you," you say, your voice so quiet it's nearly a whisper. You suddenly realize how long he might have been standing there. "A- um- here, I'll take them." You gently bring the box into your hands and motion for him to follow with a jerk of your head. His smile only brightens as he politely pulls his shoes off, placing them beside the door.

"I vas also thinking," he begins as you pull out a chair for him, "zhat maybe ve could - oh, thank you - see a movie tonight? Maybe go valk around zhe piers?"

You smile and take a seat beside him, pulling the box closer to the both of you. "That would be fun, but expensive, because I'm pretty much broke."

"Vhy do you think I brought my vallet?" he asks jokingly.

"What? Oh, no, you don't have to-"

"It is your birthday! You deserve to enjoy it, too."

I'm not so sure about that, a little voice says.

"-And, Y/N, it has been four months since I've seen you. I really have missed you."

Your heart seems to stop beating. You look back up at him, fighting the urge to let your walls falter as you see his bright blue eyes burdened by sadness. He was being genuine; not only was he a bad liar and had many tells, but he had that expression that told you he was speaking the truth.

"I..." You struggle to find the words. How do you express everything you've been thinking these past few months? What sentences could fit so perfectly to make him understand?

"I-I... I missed you, too."

Nothing else comes out. You try to speak, to say something that means more than that. But your mind can't think correctly, and it sputters uselessly as you stare down at your hands.

He smiles close-lippedly, seeming to understand with what little words you've given him. You carefully take a cookie into your hand, and then another. You offer one to him, and he smiles gratefully at you as he takes it.

"Thank you," he says. "Now, tell me my friend; vhat do you vant to do today?"

"Oh, um..." You shrug as you take a bite of the H in Happy. "I... I don't know. Maybe just... hang out here?"

"Nope," Henrik chuckles. "We need to get you out of zhe house."

"What? Why-"

"Because," he begins, "you can do so much more outside zhen in here. Zhere is a great big world out there, Y/N L/N. Vhy not enjoy it?"

You blink. Well, you haven't thought like that in a long time... have you really forgotten the outside world? It had been a long time, but surely not... that long... right?

You sigh. It has been that long, and you know it. You miss the way the sun sets on the horizon and the shapes in the clouds; your fear had kept you locked inside your house for far too long, blocking out the light. You miss the way the squirrels play in the park and the birds sang softly to one another; the alcohol had your sights locked on the sidewalk as you walked to the bars, and the sounds of a beer cap being popped had drowned out the birds.

"Yeah," you say finally. "Yeah, that... that would be great, actually. Do you have any ideas?"

"Do you?" he asks in a mischievous tone, taking a bite of the cookie. You roll your eyes at him with a side-smile as you begin to think.

"Hmm..." you hummed. "Maybe seeing a movie, like you said. And taking a walk on the piers?"

"Go on."

"I'm not sure. Oh! Oh, wait, are you good at painting?"

"If by 'good' you mean swinging a brush around vith ten different colors on it and hoping it forms something... yes."

You laugh, knowing that it's probably true. "Maybe we could do one of those... um... painting things? The things that people go to and drink wine and paint stuff?"

"A sip-and-paint?"

"Yes! Yes, a sip-and-paint."

"I've never been to a sip-and-paint before. Zhat could be fun."

"I went a few times with an old friend from high school, and don't worry, they're a blast. But I don't even know if there is one tonight."

"We can check."

"Well, yeah, but I doubt there is one."

"Alright. Vhat else?"

"I... I'm not sure." Lord, your brain isn't being helpful right now. You can't seem to remember what you used to like to do. All you know is Netflix, alcohol, and isolation.

Boy, this is going to be a tough awakening, isn't it?

"Vell, I think we could start planning, hmm?"

You smile at him. "Yeah."

/_-|-_

You feel your heart begin to pound. It's breaking your eardrums. You're holding your breath in your throat, hoping you won't give away that you're terrified.

You've just buckled your seat belt, sitting next to Henrik in his car.

"And you are one hundred percent sure you vill be okay on the ride there?" he asked.

You nod a bit too vigorously. "Yup. I'll be fine."

He looks you over carefully. "Alright. If you say so, Y/N."

"Yup; I say so, and I say so in perfect English."

Actually, you are a complete liar; you are not fine and feel like you're about to have a heart attack. Even the talons of an eagle buried in the flesh of a fish can't compare to how your nails are digging into the side of your seat. Your nails instantly become the equivalent of dragon talons as the car starts.

You take a deep, quiet breath. Don't worry, you tell yourself, we're going to be fine. It was a freak accident. That's what everyone says, right? A freak accident? It's okay. Nothing to worry about. Totally fine.

You know that's not true. That... that can't be true... right?

We're going to be okay.

You don't look outside, afraid that you'll see something you won't want to see, and instead focus your gaze on your feet.

"Do you vant to listen to music?" Henrik asks, the tone of his voice making it obvious that he could tell you weren't one hundred percent okay.

His finger hits the button with a sharp click. It sounds like the button is broken. Despite sounding like it was out of order, the radio turned on, the song Somebody That I Used To Know playing.

"Vhat do you listen to nowadays?" Henrik asks.

Your brain completely shuts down. You haven't listened to music in a long, long time.

"Ummm... whatever... whatever you wanna listen to. I mean, I'm not picky or, erm... anything." You laugh nervously.

Henrik looks at you strangely. "O-okay..." He changes the channel to something else, a song you don't recognize beginning to play instead of the sorrow-inducing one before it.

"Next stop, movie theater."

You spent the entire ride staring down at your feet, focusing on the music. Henrik hadn't really spoken much besides the occasional, "Learn to drive, blödmann." "Use your blinker!" and other things he would mutter under his breath. You knew he didn't mean for it to affect you, but every time he said something you could just imagine the sickening lurch of the car, your seat belt burning into your chest as it knocked the breath out of your lungs. Of course, you can't tell him that; he would think you were overreacting, or whining, or just being a wuss.

"Hellooooo? Earth to Y/N!"

You look up, startled by the German voice. Henrik smiles at you playfully.

"Ah, zhere we go," he jokes. "I thought I had lost you."

You chuckle and begin to unbuckle yourself. "You never know. I might drift off one day, never to be seen again..." You end your sentence in a distant, dramatically dreamy tone. Henrik laughs as he begins to open the door.

"I should hope not," he says. "Who else vould give me an excuse to get cookies?"

Your laughter becomes louder. "Oh, wow! I see how it is. I'm just here so you can get cookies."

"Oh, definitely," Henrik laughs sarcastically.

"You jerk," you chuckle, slipping out of the car. It feels good to be out of the cramped space. "So, about how long do we have? Fifteen minutes?"

"Ummm..." As you make your way to the front of the car, looking at the shops around the small theater, Henrik has his nose buried in his phone. "We have about twenty min-"

"Ack-!" Your eyes had been glued to the shops, and you hadn't even seen him coming. Henrik and you met rather harshly in the middle.

"Scheiße!" Henrik grabs your shoulders to keep both himself and you upright. He steadies you, and you grab his arm as you laugh. "Are you alright?"

You nod through your laughter. "Oh my... I'm sorry! Hah, I didn't even see you coming-"

"-No, no, I ran into you!"

Your laughter becomes hushed as you realize you're still holding on to him; your hands are gripping tight to the loose fabric at his elbows. You couldn't have let go any faster; you stumble away from him with a red face.

You see a flash of hurt in his eyes, but push that away, too.

"Sorry!" you cough awkwardly. "Alright, so, um... let's go, I guess."

He nods and follows you into the theater. It's nothing grand, but it's as cozy as a five-star hotel and quite cheap. It's old fashioned, too, which makes it even cozier to you. You've always loved this theatre, ever since you were a kid.

You both stroll over to the ticket booth, where Henrik does the talking like he usually does. He sure was good at it, probably from all of his... 'practice', and by practice I mean chattering away with his colleagues and friends until their ears bled, and then he kept rambling. You smile as you think of his little quirks as you pull your wallet out from your back pocket.

"Two for Spiderman: Far From Home, please," he says as he opens his wallet and slides a twenty across the counter.

"Wait, I can pay for myself," you say hurriedly, holding a hand up briefly to signal for the young man behind the booth to halt.

"Absolutely not," Henrik says, much like a stern father. "I am paying for her, do not listen to zhis crazy woman."

You laugh. "He's insane. I can pay for myself-"

"It's her birthday," he tells the man, who's smiling and chuckling. "Don't let her trick you vith zhat amazing smile of hers!"

Your cheeks are dusted pink as the compliment flutters straight to your heart.

"Sorry ma'am," the man laughs. "Looks like you'll have to keep your money."

"Dammit, Henrik!" you laugh, playfully punching him in the arm.

"You're keeping your money," the man jokes. "I see this as an absolute win!"

"First of all, I love you for making that reference," you begin. "Second, you're right, but oh so very wrong at the same time."

He continues to laugh as he slides your tickets across the counter. "Have a fun time, guys."

"Thank you!" Henrik and you both say, and head into the theatre.

The second the door swings open, the beautiful smell of popcorn and candy wafts to your nostrils, seductively calling out your name.

"At least let me pay for popcorn and stuff," you say. Henrik sighs, shaking his head.

"Alright, fine." You're not sure why you're so happy about spending money, but the look on Henrik's face makes it worth it.

"What d'ya want?" you ask as you approach the counter.

"I vas thinking we could share a popcorn and get drinks, maybe candy too," he replies. "We could get Icees, just like zhe old times."

You almost forgot... Henrik and you used to go here together. Sometimes alone, mostly with friends, but you always used to sit next to each other so you could share theories. You were the only one who put up with Henrik's habit of talking during a movie.

God, you think, we really were best friends. It felt like we were brother and sister.

Your mind immediately brought up a memory; the five of you at the movies, having an entire theater to yourself. You wanted to sit directly in the middle, so you would not only have the popcorn but you'd have friends on all sides of you. On one side sat Malek, on one side sat Henrik.

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest as you remembered how you'd cuddled with Malek, and how you hadn't paid attention to Henrik at all.

Jesus, Y/N, your mind tells you, He was your husband. Of course you wanted to spend time with him, why are you getting all worked up?

You gulp guiltily.