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hello i'd like to apply for terry boot! i've talked with fosse and lianne about michael/tony things <333The night was mostly quiet, aside from the sounds of his footsteps.Terry had apparated down the street, rather than right in front of the house; he had purposefully given himself extra time, but was currently spending it with his sneakered feet pounding the pavement with impatient purpose as he marched to the front door. So that hadn’t been much use, he supposed. God, he was going to get shit for this, and honestly, it’d be completely deserved. He tucked his wand away distractedly, then adjusted his backpack straps as he walked. Ideally, he’d just slip right in without anyone asking any questions, but he knew that that fantasy was steeped entirely in insanity. He was supposed to have been away for two months, and was instead back after exactly seventeen days. Two and a half weeks. Oh, there would be questions. Questions and looks and — and he’d take it all and let it roll off of him, like he always did. Even imagining the most disapproving, smug versions of Michael and Anthony just made him feel sentimental, right at this moment. He made it to the front door and hesitated for the shortest moment, uncertainty slipping in suddenly, as if he’d only just realised how silly this all was and hadn’t been thinking about it from the moment he’d left the hostel. Get it together, Boot. He rapped his knuckles on the door a couple of times, overthinking how to make a knock sound more ‘casual’.Terry and his (now ex—)girlfriend had made all kinds of promises in the last couple of months of ‘term’, if it could be called that. He’d already forgiven himself for that part in particular; things had been very intense in April, to put it lightly. Naturally, he’d spent most of May with his Mum, and she’d been supportive of his late-summer backpacking trip with his girlfriend. It had seemed like a grand idea at the time, some kind of ill-advised right of passage or a moment of relaxation after all of the bullshit, but he’d known as soon as he’d left that he wasn’t ready to go. It was completely and utterly his own fault for getting caught up, like he always did, and committing to far more than he was ready for. Poor Jenna, of course, had been rightfully pissed off. Who wouldn’t be, after basically being ditched in a foreign country by someone who was supposed to be in love with you? That part was a lot less forgivable than the initial making-promises part, and he felt (another) twist of guilt about it, but Terry was trying hard not to let it dominate his thoughts Right Now. He’d known he needed to be here, so here he was. He didn’t know if the others would understand, but they understood him better than anyone — Jenna and his Mum included — and that was all he could ask for. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting (im)patiently for someone to open the door. After a million years (maybe twenty seconds), it happened. “Hey,†he breathed, stilling. His expression, his smile, was initially sheepish and a little guilty, but even the guilt couldn’t hold out against the relief he felt seeing his friends, and he could feel his expression shifting and — Merlin he was being sappy, wasn't he? He was going to get so much (completely appropriate) shit, for this. But right now he just felt happy to see them.
Hii I'd like to make the son of John Dawlish, is an app required? thank youu
