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Fandoms almost always self-implode.
Very few things are loved forever. And we’ve been sitting inside a beloved thing that’s detonated multiple times. Calloway sisters going from adorned to scorned, back to adorned, then scored and the cycle starts all over again.
Truth: Willow and I haven’t even been on Tumblr in months, maybe a solid year. If I make gifs, I just send them to her through text.
We’ll always love the internet, but our relationship with it has shifted. It had to for our health.
I don’t want to stumble on hate posts about Lily or Daisy or Rose. People we love. It sucks the wind out of our sails. Punches a fist through our guts.
Fuck that pain.
We deal with enough already offline.
Willow suggests, “Maybe we shouldn’t do interviews on We Are Calloway anymore.” The critically acclaimed docuseries won an Emmy last year for the fourth season, and we don’t make large appearances like the core six, but we’ve done interviews for the show.
We exchange a deeper look. Because I know why she’d propose tossing this out.
I’ve been quoted everywhere after episode twelve aired where I said, “I married someone much braver than me.”
It’s true, but Christ, I didn’t expect to become gif sets and video compilations. And yeah, the irony isn’t lost on me.
I did the same shit to Ryke for his f-bombs.
Years ago.
Years ago. Time carries my thoughts in a drift.
Knowing what I know now, I wonder if I still would’ve made the videos. I’m not sure if age has changed me more or just the events and circumstances of my life.
Maybe I’ll never really have the answer.
“That’s probably the best idea,” I nod. “Do you still want to appear on the docuseries, even if we’re not doing interviews?” We’re often spotted in the background.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t waver or hesitate. “If we leave Philly where paparazzi is or if we try to avoid cameras, then I feel like we’re also avoiding my brothers and Daisy and Lily…Rose.” She takes a deep breath. “I never want to subvert the spotlight so much that we draw away from our extended family.”
Our extended family.
My eyes burn, but I push back emotion for a second. “Same.”
We make a pack to never avoid the media at the cost of our relationships with the Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts.
She smiles more. “You think one day we’ll reach Chaotic Neutral? Where we’re like flies on the wall to all the madness?”
I stand up. “Let me ask the all-knowing one.”
Willow grabs her half-eaten cheesy slice. “You’re calling Connor?”
“Uh, no. He’s still the tall one.” We both laugh, and I wash my hands in the sink, then rummage in the game box near the TV.
There it is.
I shake a Magic 8-Ball to Willow. “You ask the question.”
She rises to her feet, biting into crust. “Will we be a fly on the wall to all the madness?”
I shake the ball and then steady it, the triangle floating up in the dark-blue dye. I read, “You may rely on it.”
Willow is closer, only a foot away from me, and my eyes roam her soft features and the curve of her waist, affection and desire heating my blood. Her eyes travel just as yearningly along the ridges of my abs and the ink along my tanned skin.
I near my wife and she walks backwards to the kitchen, a bashful smile playing at her lips.
I shake the ball as we move. “Will we have a boy, eventually?” I’d rather raise a girl, but I’ll be happy no matter what gender.
Her back meets the island counter. “What does it say?”
I press my muscular body up against her soft frame. Her breath shallows, and I whisper, “Outlook good.”
Willow holds onto the counter behind her, breastbone rising and falling. “I’m going to ask it something.”
“Okay.” I run my free hand up her pajama top. Fingertips brushing the flesh along her hips, her ribs.
Love and want flood her brown eyes. “Will Garrison Abbey kiss me?”
I smile and rattle the 8-Ball. “Reply hazy, try again.”
She wets her lips, smiling an overwhelmed smile. “Will Garrison kiss me?”
Shaking the ball, I dip my head closer to Willow, our eyes diving deep before I shift them to the results. “Concentrate and ask again.”
We laugh.
“Concentrate,” I coach.
“Okay, hold on.” She shuts her eyes, and in the heady beat, I just look at my girl and our home—and my bright smile conjures tears.
Happiness, it never felt in reach.
But I woke up today, and I love who I am. And I’m forever in love with the girl who fell asleep next to me.
Very softly, eyes still closed, Willow whispers, “Will my husband kiss me?”
I gently cup her cheek and bring my lips to hers. Our tender affection alive and quiet, like a firefly in the summer night.
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My lips sting beneath his, lit a billion ways, and I want more, so much so. But… “I need to wash my hands,” I whisper after I pull back.
