irismitchells

[irismitchells]

Iris leaned her shoulder against the trunk of the tree, angling her body toward Burak and her back to the further-off crowds. She took the blunt from him, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger, and quietly looked at it—mostly as an excuse to keep her eyes on anything but another person's face for a couple more moments. But it was just a hand-rolled joint. Boring, plain, and familiar. Still, promising. She heard Burak, distantly, and hummed when there was a pause in his speaking to communicate that she was sort of listening. It was nice to have his voice as background noise anyway, to have him standing beside her. It was better than the sniffling, sobbing, and morose tones of the congregation.

Iris placed the blunt between her lips, then leaned her head toward Burak for him to light it up. She gently sucked in a little air to help with the process, then finally took a real hit. Inhale, exhale... she watched the smoke travel up through the branches above their heads. Hard-boiled Fred. She made a face, coughed lightly into her elbow, then held the joint out to him to take a turn. Part of her was a little embarrassed, surprisingly. Loud, yappy coworker—that was the charm, wasn't it? Not so much fun when she was sullen and tense. Blowing an errant lock of hair out of her face, she crossed her arms and watched him closely. Not unkindly, she continued, "So what kind of guy brings weed to a funeral, you think?" And if they were going to be fair: what kind of girl hoped he did. She smiled something infinitesimal. "Reprobate behavior."

❛ c'mon. i got a wrapper. ❜ it's easy to lead them both away from what could only be described as a macabre sea. everywhere you were to look, you'd see patches of soil being overtaken by a pack of black shoes, silent weeps, breathy wails. no one is a judge to grief, especially not him. were the people performing or being genuine, he couldn't not tell even when his opinion was so easily handed — hanging from his sleeve to whoever might graze it. still, even to him, the scene was getting unbearable. overtaken by an emotion that would not be welcomed in the midst of the remaining relatives, he needs a break. as much as her, now, that's to be debated. for vastly different reasons, definitely. nut does it really matter when the end goal is common ? burak doesn't think so.

comfort and care are not skills to be attributed to the cook, most would say. at least not towards others, his passion speaking for itself. but what he is capable of putting in a dish, he nurtures towards his people. to act like family with someone outside of his nuclear one is the foreign part, the loose skin around thumb cuticle enough for him to try. hidden from view, body against bark, they're back on break in sunrise's backalley after a rush. digging into the pocket of his jeans, handrolled blunt fished out. he hands her the honors of the first hit, right hand with a lighter at the ready. ❛ if i have to listen to twelve hours of speeches, might as well not pay attention to what they're saying. ❜ doesn't need an excuse for smoking in a cemetery, only trying to get her to relax. ❛ you know what also sucks, getting stuck in the bathroom with hard - boiled fred. ❜ church basement toilets are cursed.

[irismitchells]

Iris's mind went in two different directions before it could get back on track: to Dr. Evil from Auston Powers going 'a million dollars' and then Lil Wayne's 'a milli, a milli, a milli, a milli!' She stood still for a moment, recalibrated, then gave Mari a smile. "Ah, well. There goes my plan to demand you pay off my student loans in return..." she said with put-on wistfulness, rounding the corner of the counter.

When Mari offered up potential tag-teaming, Iris briefly felt bad for turning the entire interaction into a transaction, just fully opportunistically twisting it into a selfish endeavor. But when needs must—etc etc. She'd let Mari get away with the weird, unexplained distance between them for long enough; she'd been given a little reprieve from the poking. They were due for a little revisit to the topic, Iris thought.

She shot the girl a quick thumbs up, though she doubted she'd take her up on the offers, and headed to the man's table. After all, that'd be giving away a bit of her power, wouldn't it? But all it took was a total of 4 interactions with the customer for Iris to fully realize why Mari was ready to give up the tip. A little harried between the dying lunch rush and the guy's weird, sort-of-definitely sexist comments, Iris was pink-cheeked and pulling her hair into a ponytail when she walked up to Mari again.

"So first I went up and was like, oh hi! How are you?" she started, not providing context. "And he just very monotone-ly went, 'Coffee, please.'" She finished tying off the ponytail and dropped her hands, fanning them out as she painted the picture. "So I jokingly went, 'Hi, Coffee-Please, how are you today?' Like, ha-ha. Because—hello, I'm a human being? Say hi back?" She rolled her eyes. "He really wasn't a fan. He told me I was rude and unprofessional. Just... right out of the gate."

The little dish on the diner counter that was usually filled with coffee creamers was empty, so she grabbed it to restock. "And that was just the beginning."

time was ticking and marianne knew that iris's offer should have been simple enough to accept.

and yet she couldn't help her hesitation.

back when they had been friends, mari wouldn't have thought twice about asking iris to do something for her, and she would have gladly offered a favor for the future. but it had been years and on some level mari had concerns about what a favor for iris could entail.

not that she thought iris would ask for anything bad, of course. she may have no longer been privy to the details of iris's life, but deep down she did still know her. mari was confident that iris would ask for something harmless.

no, it was another problem altogether.

they were living in ignorant semi-bliss at that point, with no major reminders forcing them to acknowledge their history. there wasn't time for nostalgia to fester and too late apologies to follow when their exchanges were as brief as a hey, the manager told me that we need to remember to refill the salt shakers before we leave tonight or a your table's order's ready.

to have a favor of any kind looming over them gave their delicate balance a better chance of shattering. gave marianne more opportunity to let iris down yet again. even the very offer, given in a new tone, was already a gentle breeze ruffling the components of the house of cards that was their current reality. and mari wasn't yet ready to watch that structure come crashing down, forcing her to confront all of the mistakes she'd made in the past.

"deal," she finally offered, maybe a beat too late. "as long as you don't need a million dollars down the line. unfortunately i really don't think that i can turn the ten i'm saving on this into quite that much."

maybe it wouldn't be so bad to confront all of the terrible things she'd ever done while she was still spiraling?

attempting to perk up, she also offered a quick thought iris's way before the girl could go off to do her job. "if it turns out that him being intolerable is simply a personality trait and it wasn't a little something just for me, i am open to tag teaming."

[irismitchells]

Iris inhaled through her teeth, pretending at regret in letting him down with her answer. "I was one of the brown-baggers. Never really got the school lunches," she revealed, though she actually had her own mint-colored insulated lunchbox. Her mom was very particular about food. She could barely remember what the school served at lunchtime. "But—we did have a snack stand in the caf and I would buy a Vitamin Water there sometimes, which did feel pretty fancy. I don't remember those in the vending machines at the public school."

It was a bit impressive how quickly Levi did away with Iris's preconceived notion that artists were always passionate and eager to talk about their work. She learned quite swiftly that some artists—not naming names, but maybe ones with names rhyming with Shmee-vi, she thought—instead preferred to reveal the absolute minimum amount of information possible.

Any other day, she might've continued to poke at that. Not meanly, but certainly not delicately. But on that day, she realized she'd used basically all her brain power on bird calls and counting change. Just like the way it looks. Sure, why not, she'd take it. She pressed the Follow button, then tucked her phone back into her pocket.

Iris adjusted the tote bag over her shoulder again when he assured her he'd delete the photo. She rolled her eyes a little, then quickly answered, sounding a little amused at his expense, "Okay." She crossed her arms as a breeze blew by. "And you're welcome..." She let out a good-humored huff of an exhale before she continued, feeling a little robotic in her okay's and you're welcome's, which was only worsened with her: "And thanks." She hoped things would be monumentally less weird and sucky soon, but didn't count on it. "For that, I won't say his legal name, but—" She nodded toward his camera. "I look forward to seeing your future photos of You-Know-Who."

"Fancy," Levi remarked. "Was the food better at private school? You can tell me, it won't hurt my feelings."

Like monks but without the rigmarole of a sacramental ceremony. Iris should consider contributing to an upcoming edition of a dictionary. Did they still even come out with dictionaries? He wondered. With the internet around, they seemed pointless. He didn't quite know how to respond to 'eight of them live at the school', so he just nodded. Polite. For information he didn't care to know, he was positive he also wouldn't forget it.

"Just like the way it looks," Levi answered. If he were in the mood to divulge, he'd tell her that he found colors distracting. He liked that it was easier to appreciate the entire photo without specific colors drawing your eye somewhere. But he wasn't in the mood to divulge. So Iris would just have go without it. However would she survive not knowing a random opinion from some guy she didn't really know.

Since Iris didn't want the photo and they've successfully exchanged a couple of surface level facts about each other, Levi figured that about now was a good time to ease himself out of this conversation. Leave Iris to the rest of her day. Best to end things on a high note before she found out that he held a Top 3 position in being one of the least entertaining people to talk to in Willow's Edge. "I'll delete the photo," he assured her after a brief pause. "But thanks for thinking it was good." Another beat went by, and there was a hesitance in his demeanor before he decided to go against it and said, "Weird days suck, but hopefully it's... less weird down the line."

[irismitchells]

To say that Iris was ill-equipped for a 6-person funeral would be an understatement. She was ill-equipped for anything that required her to be confronted with her emotions for longer than an hour. Maybe some people could zone out and successfully dissociate their way through, but every time her eyes landed on a floating speck of dust and her brain wandered out of self-preservation, someone in the church would cough or sneeze or sob and bring it right back into her body. And then she'd feel so guilty, or maybe just guiltier. Between that, the heat of a fully-packed church, and the eyes of Jesus staring down at her in disappointment, she was afraid she'd start sweating through her $40 dress from Nordstrom Rack. In short, she was on edge.

At the cemetery, Iris felt her head throb as she picked at the skin bordering her fingernails. She hadn't cried, and she didn't think she would or could in front of everyone in attendance, but she was wrung out. Burak's presence was a welcome one, and his offer was only met with a moment's hesitation. "God, yes—please," she blurted, already turning her head toward the oak tree. At the risk of scandalizing a little old lady nearby, she continued: "I have 5 minutes before I literally can't rawdog any of this anymore." Translation: not being high in this foul situation is awful. Another possible translation: do you maybe have anything on you? She might've been able to say rawdog aloud at a funeral, but directly asking for someone else's weed felt uncouth. Iris bit at her thumbnail, caught herself, and then dropped her hand. "This sucks."

location ; willow's edge cemetery — willows' funeral with ; @irismitchells

he's got plenty of one hand to count the people he's not annoyed to see. with the whole town being here, it's kind of a feat to even be on that shortlist. he's not sure if that makes iris lucky or not, but the b - line towards one of the persons he showed up for is happening nonetheless. friends might be a loose term, yet coworkers seems too restrictive. the bottom line is that, even if he didn't care for the willows when they were alive ( even less dead ) he knew it wasn't the case for iris. show of support isn't shown traditionally, merely a gentle gaze as he approaches her. ❛ there's a nice spot behind that oak, away from the crowd. if you want a break. ❜ he's stolen his fair share of her pen, offering a joint from his personal stash is the least of things.

[irismitchells]

Iris was surprised that Levi didn't somehow magically already know her educational background. Shocking. "Yeah. In the 7th grade, I started going to Our Lady of Peace. It's 25 minutes from here over in Hanahan," she said, briefly jutting her thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the highway. "Brothers are kind of like monks but usually without the whole rigmarole of a sacramental ceremony," she explained, though he hadn't asked for clarification on that front and she was only 75% sure that was the distinction. "Eight of them live at the school." Now that Iris thought about it, a few definitely might've passed. The fact made her briefly frown. She needed to check the school's Facebook page.

She distracted herself from the sad reality of little old Brothers keeling over with Levi's Instagram page. He came up quick — already followed by Caleb. She resisted the temptation of clicking on his username just because it popped up and instead scrolled through Levi's posts. When she came to one that struck her, she clicked it and then flipped through the carousel of images. "I like the monochromatic theme you've got going on," she said. "Very cool, very Ansel Adams." Iris didn't actually feel a particular way about that choice especially, but she slipped him another modest smile half in hopes that it might make up for rejecting his earlier offer. "Any specific reason for it?"

Slight tilt of his head, Levi narrowed his eyes at Iris. While he felt a bit duped but he supposed he'd let her have that one. She was having a weird day after all. Not wanting to dwell on the photo, he steered the conversation toward anything else. "Brother Marty?" He echoed the name when she mentioned it. "Did you go to a Catholic school or something?" He recalled that Catholics often addressed each other as Brother or Sister, and sometimes even Father. He might be reaching but he thought maybe some of them called each other Mother too.

"It's…" Levi began, briefly considering lying until he realized Iris would look up the username once she got it since her phone was already out. "Levi takes photos. All one word." He pressed his lips together, bracing himself for judgment when she inevitably pulled up his profile. "I'm not," he added, the response slipping out a moment later. He only had a little over 400 followers, but it was 400 more than he ever thought he'd have.

[irismitchells]

Now that he voiced a vague distaste for the name—"No," Iris said, her slight smile returned. That was the thing about Iris. No matter what, she almost always managed to entertain herself. Most family videos featured her as a round-cheeked toddler just cracking herself up. "No, I don't think I can make that promise, but I do accept that answer." As if she had any power to reject his own personal preference. "My art teacher in high school, Brother Marty, did tell me once that I have a very auspicious face shape." Whatever that meant. He also had a habit of pinching the extra skin or fat on your bicep, so he wasn't exactly a paragon of goodwill. "So it makes sense."

Iris fidgeted again with her sunglasses, pulling them from the top of her head to hold in her hands. She did realize, after a moment, that her answer might've been a bit rude—that maybe she should've just said yes, received the photo, and just never looked at it. That might've been one of those things people do just to keep things from getting awkward, which was a conclusion she came to just as it sort of teetered. Iris was always the last person to realize it. The corner of her mouth pulled to the side, a little anxiously, and only softened when Levi frowned to himself. Weird weirder weird. "Say that five times fast," she said, exhaling a silent sight of relief when he seemed to take it in stride.

She shrugged, not surprised he would delete it but generally uncaring if he didn't. "I'm not uncomfortable," she said honestly. Her anxieties liked to rear their head for the more unserious, stupid moments in life. And if he somehow ended up being a creep, then it might be a good story to tell her friends. If he wasn't, then, maybe she'd look at the photo again someday and remember this week without feeling like her stomach would drop. When he mentioned an Instagram account, Iris perked up. "Yeah?" She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. "What's your username? I want to follow." It was a quick thing to unlock her phone, and once she was done she looked at him expectantly. "I feel like I'm about to find out you've secretly been internet-famous this entire time."

Levi took a moment to think about it. Truthfully, he found human subjects more interesting to photograph. Their expressions were more nuanced. The thing with cats, or animals in general, is that their inherent innocence always seemed to shine through. You don't get that with people. The complexity and mystery... that's what made them more compelling to capture. "If I say you, can you promise not to say Kittcent van Gogh again?"

While Levi didn't think the photo was anything special, he had to admit it still stung a little to hear Iris say 'no'. He tried not to take it to heart; it's not like her not wanting it made it a bad photo. It was just a little bit confusing if anything because she'd said she liked it. He listened to her stumble over her words a little, remaining patient in the hope that her explanation would eventually make sense.

It did. Taking into account what's befallen their town recently, Levi wished he'd known better. After all, who would want to immortalize a weird day? Hell, a weird week. Most people were just trying to cope and move forward. Something he was sure was more difficult for some than others. "That's alright," he assured her. "I don't want to make a weird day weirder by giving you a photo of you having a weird day." He frowned a little, confusing himself by saying the word 'weird' so much.

"I'll probably delete it. I don't you to feel uncomfortable about me having it if you don't have a copy too." Plus, he took the picture without her consent. It'd be creepy if he kept it. "No, I, uh... I usually I pick a handful I like from the bunch and make a little post for Instagram." A carousel of 10 photos, with the date as the caption. "Then I transfer everything into a thumb drive, mark it with the date and toss into a pile to forget about. I don't really print them unless I'm giving it to someone as a gift or we need art on the wall at the apartment or something"

[irismitchells]

"I'm going to perfect my Carolina Wren before the week's out—mark my words," Iris said somberly, her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back a smile in amusement with herself. She watched Levi as he thought over her question, then made a soft clicking sound against the back of her teeth when he spoke. A cop-out answer. Iris rolled her eyes, obvious enough for him to notice but facetiously enough for him to know she wasn't actually that annoyed (only a little bit).

"Boring," she said low and blandly, though admittedly charmed by the pun. God forgive her, but she did love them. "How's this, who's the better model: me or our Kittcent van Gogh?" she asked, once again referencing the half-eared cat. She did often see him on her walks. A cat allergy prevented her from getting too close, but she did like pbbst-pbbst-pbssting her way into getting his attention and then tossing him a small piece of her snack—if it was cat-friendly, according to Google. But her question really meant another thing: do you prefer human subjects or animals?

Iris didn't know why his query surprised her; it was the same one he led with. But now that she'd seen it—the knit between her brows, the shadows under her eyes, the way her fingers picked at her thumbnail—the question felt different. She scratched idly at the side of her nose, then crossed her arms. "Um..." she started. "No?" She squinted her eyes, aggrieved with her own answer. "I mean, no thanks. Or—I don't know. Not today." Maybe that was better. "I like it, it's great. You clearly know what you're doing and you're good at it." Yeesh. She had already said she liked it. "But it's been a weird day."

More like a bad day, a bad few days, and it was written all over her face in black and white—or it was in her memory now that she didn't have the screen right in front of her. As her surprise with Levi's talent waned, the picture in her mind's eye morphed into something cartoonishly depressing. Like a Frances McDormand movie. Maybe a few weeks down the line she'd be okay with it finding its way into her inbox. "What're you going to do with it otherwise?" she asked, quickly redirecting. "Or really any of those photos. Do you print all of them?"

Iris was... interesting, to say the least. Her ability to talk steadily about things he's never considered was as impressive as it was overwhelming. Fortunately, Levi enjoyed being a listener. He doubted he could keep pace with this conversation if he were the type who itched to chime in.

"Might just be his own personal hell," Levi agreed. While his voice didn't carry a ton of enthusiasm, that didn't mean he didn't feel any. It was just how he sounded — being expressive didn't come easily to him. Beneath his subdued demeanor however, he promised he actually appreciated the unconventional topic of conversation. He didn't expect to be taken for a ride when he approached her, but he didn't mind it. He didn't mind most things.

"Oh, it's the worst," Levi played along. Though all things considered, he wasn't doing too bad on the survival front. Considering the fate of the Willows, he'd even go as far as to say he was doing pretty good. Maybe even great. As the thought of the Willows crossed his mind, he wondered how Iris was coping with the situation, given her friendship with June. "...Sure," he found himself saying, despite his distaste for the term 'hit you up'. "I like to get compensated in obscure bird noises so you might want to brush up on your calls before you reach out to me."

A slight frown creased his brow when Iris moved the camera out of his reach, momentarily puzzled until she mentioned the cat. Something of a smile crept on his face then before he took the camera back from her.

Taking a moment to consider her question, Levi paused. No one had ever asked him that before. "I think I'm gonna have to give the cop out answer and say all of them are," he revealed after a moment. "Can't hurt their feelings, you know. They're not gonna develop right." Of course it wasn't true. But revealing his favorite photo from the collection he had on there now felt too personal.

"Do you want the photo I took?"

[irismitchells]

"I'm like an anthropologist when it comes to the different types of Guys that exist. I have a wealth of knowledge," Iris said wryly. She looked toward Levi with raised brows. "Though do you listen to This American Life?" She didn't wait for an answer. "There's an episode where Ira goes birding with a full-blown bird-savant. He talks about turkey vultures for... no joke, at least 10 minutes. Nonstop." A definite exaggeration.

"And he was all, can you hear that?" She poorly mimicked a random bird call, cupping one hand around her mouth. "Quail. And that—?" She did another, equally poor bird call, then dropped her hand. "Red-tailed hawk. It was actually crazy impressive." She paused a second. "I just convinced myself that birders-for-birders is definitely a thing. Can you imagine a guy like that trying to date someone who truly did not give a shit about it?"

She kept clicking through the pictures, admiring some and amused by others. Iris sighed. "Survival's really inconvenient, isn't it?" she joked. Iris didn't have a hobby like Levi's, one that would be risky to place a life bet on. She wasn't very artsy either, despite having taken art all 4 years of high school. Her degree was a useful and oftentimes lucrative one. Once she finished her Master's, she wouldn't need a second job to help make ends meet. That kind of safety net was nice to think about when the student loan payments kicked in. "But... say I need a photographer. Could I hit you up?"

When he reached a hand out for the camera, she instinctually turned away a fraction — leaning just out of his reach. "You can't tell me you've got the cat with half an ear on film here and then try to take the camera away," she said admonishingly, then finally rectified her earlier movement. Belatedly, she handed the camera back over. "Which photo on that's your favorite?"

Something about that duh made Levi's mouth pull at the corners just a bit, a hint of pride swelling in his chest. But just as quickly as Iris had boosted his ego, it quickly plummeted at 'those nerds who's on bird subreddits'. He parted his lips to say something then realized he had no idea what to say at all. What do you say to an assumption like that? He supposed it was better than her assuming he was someone's stalker. (Which he wasn't, by the way. Just to be clear.)

"You know, for someone quick to call another person a nerd who's on bird subreddits, you seem to know a lot about bird subreddits," he pointed out. Despite the accusation, Levi found himself feeling somewhat amused by Iris ramblings. "That's one way to find someone to date," was all he had to comment. She was a single bird feeder, I was a single birdfeeder - it was meant to be, he mused in his own head.

One of his eyebrows arched slightly when he finally noticed Iris was going through more of his photos. She got comfortable quick, huh? Though after the initial shock of it, Levi found he didn't actually mind. It's not like she'd find anything scandalous. Just buildings, people, stray animals.

"The need to survive, mostly," he answered, sardonic tilt to his mouth. "Yeah, photos are pretty, but they don't pay the bills." Besides, it's not like Levi hated what he did for a living. He liked both. Thankfully, one of two of his hobbies paid off.

"You done with that?" He asked, holding his hand out for the camera. "Or are you trying to find proof that I'm the bird subreddit's top poster? You can keep looking, I don't think there's a single bird photo on there. There might be a cat though. You've seen the one around here with half an ear? Pretty gnarly."

[irismitchells]

Iris was careful as she took the camera between her hands, squinting down at the display screen. She didn't technically know what made a photograph good or bad. She'd been to galleries in LA and New York while visiting friends from college and had seen world-renowned pieces of art on both sides of the country, and she still couldn't tell you with exactness why she liked what she liked inside of them.

Sometimes it was just the colors, the way a shadow fell, the hook of the subject's nose... It was an innate, wordless feeling she got, like when a joke was funny to you and maybe not to someone else. There didn't seem to be any real logical reason for it. And there she was in black-and-white, just standing across the road. She liked it, her obvious dark circles and all. Maybe it was her ego, maybe Levi just had that Eye everyone talked about. It was a feeling.

Iris smiled down at her own face. "It's good," she started, glancing back at Levi. "Duh." Without asking permission, she pressed the left-pointing arrow that would direct her to the other photos he'd taken that day. "I've seen you around with this camera before, but I didn't know it was like, an actual thing you did. I thought maybe you were like one of those nerds who's on bird subreddits."

She didn't actually think birders were total geeks nor did she mean to imply that Levi was one, but it's where the current train of thought took her. Birders took pictures of birds and Levi had a camera, ergo there was a similarity. Besides, her first impulse was to say bird pervs, so she knew how to edit herself a little. "Like, r-slash-Orinthology. Can You Identify This Bird?" She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth for a second, amused by her own ruminations. "Looking For Single Birders In Your Native Habitat?"

The second photo she clicked on also caught her attention, keeping a small smile on her face. "What the hell, man," she continued quietly, thrilled by this discovery about him. "What gives? Why isn't this your full-time gig?"

"You were across the road," Levi answered plainly, shoulder bouncing in a shrug. Like that was explanation enough. It was teasing moments like these — the second between gauging whether it's a joke or not — that made Levi want to avoid talking to people forever. His body jumped into fight-or-flight mode way too quickly for his liking, heart and blood racing beneath his skin. Though it was the hint of a smile on Iris's mouth that gave her away, keeping his heart from damn near seizing on him. He moved closer only when she gestured for him to, removing the camera strap from around his neck and carefully handing the device over. It was a Leica — the most valuable thing he owned. It was secondhand and broken when he got it — only way he was able to afford such a thing and even then it was still pricey — but thanks to some research and a little tinkering on his end, it did the job it was made for.

Levi waited patiently as Iris reviewed the photo he took. It was nothing extraordinary, just a simple monochrome image. Her attention was elsewhere in it. Tote bag over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head. No rush, no fuss. Plain and simple existing. He didn't like when people played it up for the camera. Took the honesty out of it. When Iris made a comment about her hair, Levi wondered if it would it be rude to say her hair looked the same as it always did. Not in a bad way obviously. He just meant that it wasn't... worse than usual. Not that usual was bad. Hearing this in his head, he was glad he wasn't the type to say the first thought that crossed his mind. "I think your hair looks fine," he finally said after a moment. Then after another beat had passed, he surprised even himself by asking, "What's your verdict?"

[irismitchells]

Look out for one another. She could do that. She wanted to do that. Iris could keep selfish, kneejerk thoughts at bay — the demands, the questions. As far as she knew, no rule book guided you in grief, and that could also then guide you into being able to pinpoint when the grace period ended and you could then maybe, possibly return to those selfish, kneejerk thoughts. It was all vibes. Very murky, very weird, very unsatisfying vibes. And she felt the reminder of why they sat there hang heavily over her, a dark cloud ready to tear open and drown them. She pressed her lips together, afraid of what she'd say even when nothing was at the ready on the tip of her tongue.

She let a moment pass, their palms pressed against each other and her thumb tracing his knuckle. And then, finally: "So tell me what you need. Even if you think it's — I don't know, simple. Or stupid. Anything." It was a gentle directive, a request for Caleb to be upfront. And then she'd try and do the same with him. Iris gave him a small, watery smile that looked close to falling apart. "Like, this is lame but I almost brought you soup," she continued, her voice still fragile. "I was moving on total autopilot all day and I just made like, so much soup. It's obscene. I need to get rid of some of this soup."

the feeling of her thumb moving against the skin of his hand felt like it was soothing his soul to some degree. a wall he'd put up since finding out the news felt perhaps not brought down but at least lowered. and while it was scary to have that wall lowered at all, it wasn't earth shattering panic. he was okay with it being lowered in this moment. his eyes stayed on their hands, the tiniest of squeezes around her fingers. a small show of appreciation for the moment before his eyes are drawn up as she speaks. when she hesitated he stayed quiet, patiently waiting for her to finish her thought. his hand moved effortlessly into her lap, feeling more comfortable there than simply between them. " i want that too, " he said in response. to him, he thought that was obvious. but only for a moment. because then he remembered the unanswered calls and texts that had led iris to his door in the first place. " this whole thing is so fucked, " he said, it didn't matter how many times they said it, it always felt worth saying again. " i don't think it makes sense to not look out for one another right now. "

[irismitchells]

Iris felt something inside her chest deflate in relief — a short relief, but a real one. She squeezed his hand gently, letting the pad of her thumb brush back and forth against his skin. She watched the side of Caleb's face for a moment, then shifted closer to him until their arms brushed against each other. Iris wavered, caught between what she wanted to say and what she wanted to do. She wanted to pull his hand into her lap and envelope it between both of hers; she wanted to press her cheek against the soft-looking fabric of his sweatshirt, right where it draped over his shoulder. Historically, she wasn't so much of a cuddler as she was someone who wanted to be close. And she wanted to be close to him. She followed his gaze down to where their hands sat. She liked the way his knuckles looked. "I want..." Iris started, voice quiet. "I just want us to still be friends." Her fingers twitched around his and she gave in to her first impulse, pulling their hands into her lap. "I don't know how to get through this if we're not."

there's an immediate hesitance. of course, this entire conversation had been littered with them. but this one, unlike the others, held an air of hope with it. his eyes met her's for a moment, before he looked away to silently do what she asked. carefully he shifted himself over, shrinking the space between them until he was beside her.

there's a small comfort to just be beside her, to be close to her. but if he'd proven anything in the last week it was that he was selfish. and so he sought more– but he didn't want to push it. trying to find a balance in all of that, and a balance in his own sorrow and wanting to comfort her's too, he returned to the instinct he'd pushed down just moments before. he shifted, turning just a fraction so he could find her hand, and gently taking it in his own. resting the joined hands on their legs and his eyes focusing on that, even as he felt the warning sting of tears trying to form in his eyes.

[irismitchells]

Iris cringed internally when he apologized — at her actions, the thing that made him say sorry twice. She felt awful, guilty for making him say it. It was like all her emotions were that snake eating its own tail, an endless loop of sad-angry-guilty-sad-angry-guilty. She still wanted to point her finger at what he had done; she didn't want to make him sadder than he already was; and on and on and on. She closed her eyes, breathing as steadily as she could manage as she counted down from 30 in her head.

30, 29, 28... Caleb was still her friend. 27, 26, 25... They could still be there for each other. 24, 23, 22... She could push it all aside. She could push that hungry, confused ache aside. She could watch what she said. She could be a good person. The numbers dwindled down to zero. She opened her eyes. "Can you come over here?" Iris asked hesitantly, placing her hand down on the cushion that was now between them to signal where she wanted him to go.

the feeling of regret quickly seeped in as he watched iris' reaction to his questioning. maybe he should've just answered the question. even if it did make him look like the world's biggest dickhead. even if it was a shitty question to ask the day after they both found out june was dead. he stayed quiet for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between them. when he was a kid he'd always tried to just say the thing that would make people feel better in the moment. it didn't matter if it wasn't what he felt, or if it would make things worse later. it only mattered that it would make things better in the moment.

in this moment, he had no idea what that would be. he supposed the truth, but the truth wouldn't fix things. it wouldn't make june's death easier. his eyes had drifted from her face while he thought, watching where her hand wiped against her leg. less than two weeks ago he wouldn't have hesitated to touch that hand in an attempt to offer comfort. but now they were sat as far apart as they could on this couch. " sorry. " he said, not looking back up just yet, instead moving to his own feet. and he can feel the word's uselessness, but he was. he was sorry. " i didn't mean to– " he stopped that sentence, crease in his brow as he felt discomfort at his own words. that overwhelming feel to try and find the right thing to say, and knowing that wasn't it. " sorry. "

[irismitchells]

"All of my takes are incredibly on point, actually. Who else can make sure my shitbox stays on the road? You know all her ins and outs. She'd be slow to warm up to someone else," Iris said, then tapped at her own temple with the end of her pen. "See? That's high value."

She tucked the pen behind her ear. "But I'll get you your coffee." She slipped the notepad back into her apron. Coffee with creamer was an easy order to remember, and something she didn't have to pass along to the kitchen.

You should text me now. Iris raised a single eyebrow as she took the empty mug out of his hands. He seemed in pretty good spirits — more whole than she felt. She eyed Ren for a second, and then a thought occurred to her. "I'll do you one better," she started. "Did you walk or drive here?"

ren shook his head nice and slowly, as to not, as she said, strain anything. though, of course, he squinted, needing to react to her later comment. "high value?" he asked, as if to clock in a second time, make certain despite his own ears. "that's a questionable take. unless you get like 50 coins for serving some idiot coffee." his head tilted a second then. "throw in some creamer and i might convince them up to a hundred."

it was easy to stand in front of her then and think himself unworthy, especially given the history and then one glimpse at her to start. and still, the pang of his heart convinced him to give it a try..

"you should text me now." his eyes continued to look into hers, confident. fuck, how he wanted to tick that mouth to a smirk. maybe he was just a glutton for attention. "unless i'm going to get you in trouble. just... checking in."

[irismitchells]

"You actually took a photo of me?" Iris asked rhetorically. Obviously, there was no reason for him to say so if he hadn't. She was intrigued, and honestly a little pleased. She felt a smile pull at the corner of her mouth, eyes crinkling as it grew a little. "Wow... creeeeepy," she said, slow and edging on teasing. She let a beat pass. "I'm kidding." She made a grabby hand for the camera, then realized it might've been too expensive for him to just hand over to her. Fair. She dropped the gesture and instead beckoned him closer.

"Let me check this out. That's a serious camera." She fussed a little with herself, adjusting the strap of her tote bag and the sunglasses she had perched on top of her head. She'd been on one of her daily walks, which had grown longer and longer over the past few days. Aimless, mindless, meandering... Levi caught her well over an hour into it, and only a couple hours after her shift at the diner. She only just realized her feet were throbbing a little from all that standing and walking. Iris had been moving nonstop since 5 AM. "My hair's so frizzy today..." she trailed off absently, half-expecting to look like an ungroomed pomeranian in the photograph.

STARTER FOR @irismitchells WHERE: Somewhere around town WHEN: Afternoon

Levi was craving some sense of normalcy after the past couple of days around town. With a day off from work, he decided to stroll around, capture anything interesting that caught his eye. The passing of the Willows had left unique expressions on people's faces — some burdened with sadness, others seemed lost in thought. One way or another, it was evident something was on their minds.

While waiting to cross a road, Levi recognized a face on the opposite side. Iris. He always thought she had an interesting look about her. He wondered if it translated well in photographs. Raising his camera, he adjusted the lens's zoom right before he snapped a picture and made his way to the other side of the road.

"Hey," he greeted, acknowledging Iris, someone he didn't know too well but was connected enough through his roommate and his... um, ex? "Not to make things weird, but I just took your picture." Levi, aware of the awkwardness, continued, "I can delete it, but if you want it, I can send it to you before I do." Talking to people wasn't his forte. It was worse when they became the focal point of his photographs. Unfortunately, moments with people often yielded some of the most powerful captures so he had to suffer through the agony.

[irismitchells]

It was a shitty fucking question, but Iris couldn't take it back now. Instead, she burned up inside; embarrassed at having asked it, embarrassed at being reprimanded for it. A harsh part of her wanted to say, it was a shitty thing for you to do. The kinder part wanted to say, I'm sorry. Iris felt her face go pink, her jaw set as she looked pointedly away from him. She stared at the walls without really seeing them, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. Did they need to talk about it? Did she want to talk about it? The answer to both questions to her was an unequivocal yes. But she also understood the additional context: did they need to talk about it now? Did she want to talk about it now?

She pulled her arms tight around herself — the constriction back in her throat, her eyes burning again. This time, the threat of it did leave her shamefaced. This time, the tears actually fell. She angled her head and lifted her shoulder to try and catch them against the fabric of her sweater. There was a long moment of quiet, or it felt long as it stretched out across the tense space between them. In a creaky voice, she finally replied: "I don't know." A beat. "No." She frowned to herself, still not looking Caleb in the face. "I don't know." She'd wanted to talk about it all week. She thought about it every day. Did he? At all? Did it matter? Should it matter? June was dead. June was dead. Iris wiped at her face, then rubbed her palm against her leg. She breathed in through her nose, then looked at him. "Forget it."

caleb wasn't sure how much he believed iris' claim she was going to tell june over the weekend. sure, he believed her intention. he intended on telling her too. but neither of them had, and now they couldn't. on one hand it was simple to say they wanted to now the choice was taken from them. on the other the guilt of it felt heavier, this strange feeling that they'd gotten away with it to some degree. he clenched his jaw a little as he nodded to her words. eyes moving away from her, drifting aimlessly in the room as his head pounded with thought and pain.

when she continued, initially he thought she was talking about the willows death. the fact they were gone. the fact that june was. but then she continued, and it was another hit to the back of the head. more effective this time. his face crinkled in confusion and hurt for a moment, eyes drawn back to iris. " that's a shitty fucking question, iris. " she was hurting, he knew that. he knew it and he didn't want to make it worse. and he could handle her being mad at him, but he didn't think he could handle being ripped open and examined from the inside out. " is that what we need to talk about? what you want to? "

[irismitchells]

When Iris and Mari's friendship slowly — and then very suddenly — dissolved into thin air, Iris tried not to hold it against her. A bitter hurt clung for a good long while, but the hatchet was well and truly buried by the time she'd run into her former friend at the Sunrise Diner. They'd both been surprised to discover they'd be working together. Iris had been excited to see her, excited to reconnect and gab and catch up on what the other had been doing for the past however-many-years. Mari very clearly hadn't felt the same. Correction: still didn't feel the same. It was hard not to let that sting.

When they were on shift together, things were cordial. Professional. Whatever. Iris had grown accustomed to yapping with her coworkers when time permitted, but she gave up on that with Mari weeks ago at that point. So she was surprised when Mari addressed her out of the blue. It was about work, of course, but outside of their usual job-related script. Her brow raised as she looked toward the man Mari referred to, then snorted a bit when she took in his appearance. Bald-headed and narcissistic. Pick a struggle, she thought. Iris had been in the middle of unraveling a piece of spearmint gum, then finally crumpled the wrapper in one hand as she popped the gum into her mouth. It helped with the nausea of being around the smell of hot grease all day.

She tossed the wrapper into the nearby trashcan behind the diner's counter. "Keep the ten bucks," she started, already shifting to head toward the obnoxious man's table. "You can just owe me a favor instead." It was disguised as a little playful, a little lighthearted, but it was also kind of pointed. It made her stomach anxiously tighten a bit to get pointed, but she also couldn't help it. Still a bit stung, still a bit bitter. She shot Mari a passable smile. "Deal?"

closed starter for @irismitchells location: the sunrise diner

if someone had asked marianne at age eighteen if she ever thought she'd be back in willow's edge, waitressing at the sunrise diner for slightly above minimum wage, she would have laughed in their face. or at least scowled in their general direction.

and yet.

life rarely went the way one would hope, and at twenty-six years old she was offering practiced smiles and inquiring about fry versus onion ring preferences, drafting resignation letters in her mind any time someone complained to her about their order being wrong (it never was).

that day was just like any other since she'd started her forty hours a week, the customers mostly paying her no attention except for when they needed a refill of coffee or water.

until her worst enemy walked in and sat in her section.

was it appropriate to write your resignation letter on the order pad? would an email suffice? because she was willing to do what she had to do to pay the bills, but mari had every intention of doing so with her dignity intact. and if she ever had to speak to the man giving her an annoying little wave again, she was pretty sure she'd do something that would result in an immediate firing.

"last time he was here he waved a five dollar bill at me, hinting that it would be my tip the whole two hours he sat in a booth, and then he left me nothing because i didn't smile enough," mari confided in the waitress nearest her then, only realizing that it was iris after she'd already spoken up.

her voice only faltered for a moment, however. marianne had decided to take the act like she's a stranger approach to working with iris months ago, and it had worked in their favor thus far. their shared history occasionally made things awkward and mari kept finding herself almost letting apology after apology spill from her lips, but it was by no means a hostile work environment.

except at that very moment. due to the truly venomous vibes she was sending towards mr. smile more.

"if i give you the five that he neglected to give me, will you take his table?" she finally asked, her words interrupted only by the man calling out "waitress!" in order to get her attention.

"did i say five? i meant ten. ten dollars."

[irismitchells]

Iris fidgeted with a tassel on her scarf, unknowingly tearing out little bits of fluff that clung to every surface they fell to. He was going to tell June. He hadn't yet, which — well. She felt a little selfishly glad for it because that meant when June... When they all... Iris tugged at the scarf until it loosened around her neck and she could pull it off, feeling a little suffocated as she grew hot. She took a deep breath. June didn't hate Iris. Not yet. And then he turned the question to her. Were you? Iris wiped under her eye, brushing away the evidence of a tear that hadn't fallen yet, and straightened herself, pulling her leg away from Caleb's in the process.

"Yes," she answered emphatically, though her voice barely registered above a whisper. "Of course. I had plans to— I wanted to—" She tripped over her words, thinking about how the information swirled like a storm in her chest. How she couldn't hold it in any longer. How she needed to tell someone, and that someone had to be June. Iris couldn't even keep her own secrets. "I was going to tell her this weekend. I told myself I would. She had Sunday off, so I knew she wouldn't have to go in to work after..." Which wasn't as thoughtful as it sounded, but more of a way to maybe avoid June telling others immediately. Iris set her jaw, ready to redirect her own critical thoughts of herself toward someone else. And Caleb was there.

"I just don't get it," she continued immediately, a little harsh and a little sad and careless about the unsuitable timing of her questions. "Did you not love her anymore?"

the question feels a bit like a hit around the back of the head. and given what she was asking about, he probably deserved one. yes, they were both grieving. but the underlying guilt of not coming clean about something that was largely his fault. if he hadn't kissed her, if he'd told june, if he'd had his fucking shit together – would this be easier? reasonably he knew the answer was probably not, but it's not like grief was reasonable.

he leaned back again, eyes watching iris for a moment before he spoke. if their situation wasn't what it was then maybe he might consider his answer, consider what she wanted to hear when she asked that question, consider the complexities of it all. but all he had the energy for was the truth. " yeah, " he answered, following by swallowing a lump in his throat, feeling that tightness once more. " i didn't really have a how or when but, y'know, " his sentence faded off again. he'd wanted to tell june because he didn't want her to hear it from someone else, but he'd put it off past the point of being able to claim it was just a little mistake. he'd stewed on on it, hesitated. it sort of made it harder to hide why he'd done it in the first place. he'd still cared about june, deeply. it was just that he cared for iris too. " were you? "