PLEASE READ
The most updated and edited version of this fic (May 8 2022) is located on ao3/archive of our own. It's a huge pain to update chapters on here, so it will take me a while to do it here. So for now, I please ask that you read this story on ao3 instead. My username is the same there.

Author's Note

Hi everyone! This is my very first story/fanfic I have ever written. I also have a second fic, Nothing But Flowers, which follows the story of Boomhauer and Leah.

There are a few sexual scenes in this story which are not marked. Read at your own risk.

The title This Must Be the Place comes from the song by Talking Heads, my favorite song, and one I hope fits the theme of my fic.

Thank you to my editor, G, for her wonderful revisions and insights.
Thank you to my friend, Ambivalent_Amber, for her support and guidance.

And thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


He could feel the warm and gentle sunlight streaming through the window and onto his face before opening his eyes. It was funny how the sun still embraced him when he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve anything good.

The shower sprayed down its hot water and steamed up the mirror, fogging over the reflection he despised. He was overweight, he was balding, he was a shell of his former self etched in every line and ridge of his face. But it didn't matter anymore. He was going to be alone forever, so what was the point?

He finished showering and pulled on his uniform. The microwave dinged to signify his breakfast was ready. He ate with disinterest as he leaned against the kitchen counter, which was grimy with a few crusted dishes that needed washed. The floors needed to be swept, the furniture needed to be dusted, the styrofoam take out containers needed to be thrown away.

He sighed. Maybe later.

The house looked much better when his ex-wife still lived there. She kept everything clean and tidy and well furnished. There were a lot of her old furniture and decorations still around that he hadn't bothered to get rid of. Like the curtains hanging over the living room window and the bedspread in the bedroom. There were even a few of her old knick-knacks on the bookshelf.

It was pathetic to keep all of her stuff, especially after all these years. He still hadn't quite come to terms with her leaving, which he tried not to admit to himself. Being with her was the happiest he may have ever been. Sure, she cheated on him, fought with him, and belittled him, but maybe he deserved it...

Soon it was time for him to head to work. That was one of the few joys that he had in his life anymore. It was something he was skilled at and could take pride in, something that gave him purpose. At least it was something.

He was resigned to his fate, accepting of how stagnant his existence had become, subservient to his loneliness and self loathing. Things would never get any better than where he was now, but that was alright with him.

He deserved it.


The morning sunlight gleamed against the glass front doors as she approached the building, key in hand. She was the first one to arrive for the day, like usual. She couldn't stand to be home for long periods of time and would typically leave for work earlier than necessary. Anything to get away from the loneliness, the desolation...

Home was a dark and empty place now, yet work still remained welcoming and bright. Work was the one thing her ex didn't ruin. Everything else he seemed to have had a destructive hand in. Her only friend now was her sister, who what always seen him for what he was, and her sister had always been there for her, waiting for her to come to her senses and leave him.

Finally, she did. After seven years, she did. And now she was alone and aimless and the outlook for her future was bleak. Her sister badgered her with advice to start dating again, to meet someone new. The idea of doing it over again was daunting. But the idea of being in this lonely place indefinitely was even more so…

She buzzed around the clinic as she tended to her morning tasks. Drawers were stocked, papers were filed, the computers turned on. Her boss and colleagues would soon arrive, and she would fake a smile and pretend like she was a person who had her life together. A person who was happy. Then, at the end of the day, she would reluctantly return home and the mask would come off. Meager, unlovable, never enough.

Last night, her sister once more brought up the prospect of dating again. She thought of her lonely house filled with deafening silence. She thought of the fact that she was thirty years old and the entirety of her twenties were now gone. And she thought of how lonely she was, and how nice it would be to have something to look forward to again. Someone to talk to. Maybe she could at least try...

Her sister asked what she wanted in a potential partner. She answered.

Somewhere in West Arlen, a plan was in motion.