#1990s notepad

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Lisa Frank Casey and Caymus Notepad

1990s

Found on Ebay, user bodens_99

[goobersplat]

1993 Space Themed Badtz Maru Notepad

[odditycircus-2002]

Hear me out:

Johnny makes a related reader (works as a nurse so not often seen) attend his wedding, but the reader doesn't have a plus one. Reader randomly points to Shang Tsung and asks him to be the plus one. Johnny is too slow to protest before Shang smirks and accepts, rubbing it in that he will be the "perfect gentleman." The two actually hit it off.

The twist: Reader doesn't know magic and is unaware of who he is or anything relating to earthrelm/outworld as Johnny likes it.

A/N: Since you didn't specify what version of Johnny Cage you wanted me to write, I'll make sure to write this request with the Old Era characters in mind. With a hint of some of the 1990 Mortal Kombat movie for plot reasons. I hope you enjoy this!

Perfect Gentleman

Johnny Cage's fans, media, and the general public don't know about you, and you're just fine with that. Unlike your drama-king cousin, you don't really want the spotlight on you anyway. You're more down to Earth and low-key than your cousin, Johnny Cage (or as you know him as, John Carlton). In fact, you don't work in the Hollywood business at all; you're a Nursing Assistant to surgeons.

You supported Johnny through the highs and lows in his career, whether it's Ninja Mime or Time Smashers. You love to hear Johnny talk about his movies after a 12-hour shift, and he always sends you a special edition DVD for each of his movies. You even have the first ticket you bought to Johnny Cage's first blockbuster framed in your apartment.

Unfortunately, your and Johnny's respective careers don't always leave you wiggle room to visit each other whenever you like. But you stay in touch since you are his "favorite" cousin (read, only cousin). You also attend important events in Johnny's personal life, such as his engagement party with a Special Forces woman named Sonya Blade.

When you arrived at your cousin Johnny's mansion, he happily greeted you and introduced you to his stone-faced fiancee.

"Meet the future, Mrs. Cage!" Johnny makes a grand sweeping gesture at Sonya, who's playfully rolling her eyes at her fiance's theatrics. You give a grin. "I'm honestly surprised she's choosing to marry you." Sonya gives a small grin as she assesses you. "You sure you and Johnny are related?"

Johnny then introduced you to the rest of his friends, both the Hollywood types you expected and loathed to meet. Some people seemed to have walked out of a Spirit Halloween, each stranger than the last. There was a Cop (not at the party busting Johnny for doing drugs this time) named Striker. There was another Special Forces soldier named Jax, whose arms were made of metal. You met some ninjas, monks, a blind swordsman, and two guys with glowing eyes.

Despite their strange appearances, you found them polite and more of a delight to be around. However, they seemed evasive whenever you asked how exactly they knew your cousin, only knowing they all met at some karate tournament Johnny attended. What you didn't notice the whole time was Johnny holding a notepad from behind you that read, "DON'T TELL THEM ABOUT ANY OF THE CRAZY SHIT IN OUTWORLD!!!"

After Johnny introduced you to everyone and you told as many embarrassing stories about him as possible, you took a seat to catch up. He told you how he met Sonya at the karate tournament called "Mortal Kombat," albeit a heavily scrubbed version that didn't involve magic, gods, monsters, and the Earth coming this close to being conquered by an interdimensional tyrant. You remarked how Johnny is lucky to have found someone to spend the rest of his life with since, unfortunately, you won't be attending his wedding.

You explained to Johnny that your romantic partner had broken up with you and that you could not handle the long hours you worked. So, as happy as you are for your cousin, you're not sure you want to socialize rather than stay in your apartment to eat a bucket of ice cream and criticize hospital dramas.

However, Johnny, being who he is, begs you to come to his wedding as you're one of the only family members, besides Grandma Carlton, that he got along with. In a lightbulb moment, he suggests that one of his buddies at the party could be your plus one. You think it over quickly, figuring that you have nothing to lose really doing this, plus you know Johnny would keep pestering you if you didn't. Worse, he may decide to play matchmaker himself. Your eyes scan the crowded living room you're in before landing on one guy you haven't seen earlier. He wore a black leather jacket with a red Chinese dragon on the back and seemed a little older than your usual type, yet he seemed to have this grace.

"Alright, I'll go ask him."

"That's the spirit, Y/N!"

With Johnny's encouragement and a sip of liquid courage, you approached the stranger. Imagine the action star's disbelief and shock when, instead of approaching one of his co-stars like he thought you would, he approached the worst guy possible in the room. Shao Khan's sorcerer, Shang Tsung.

How did he get past all the guests, each one that ABSOLUTELY despises him? Why did he decide to come here of all places? None of that matters right now, compared to the disaster unfolding before his very eyes. Like a fool, he only sat and watched as it happened, springing to action too little too late.

Shang Tsung stiffens for a split second before he registers you at the corner of his eye. He turns around to greet you with his signature grin, noting that he's never seen you before. So what could you possibly want with him, the sorcerer ponders. "Pardon me, Mr...?" "Shang Tsung, at your service. And you are Ms...?" He gestured to you with his hand, not holding a champagne flute. You took the opportunity to shake his hand. "L/N. Y/N L/N." Shang Tsung raises your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. He smirks at your flustered expression. "The pleasure is all mine, Ms. L/N." You shake your head before clearing your throat, hoping your flushed expression can easily be explained away by the spirits you decide to indulge in. "Anyways, I'm sorry if this seems too sudden, but I need a plus one for my cousin's wedding, and my date bailed on me." Shang Tsung raises a manicured brow. "And who happens to be your cousin, Ms. L/N?" You gesture with your thumb over your shoulder to Johnny Cage, who has the look of someone who just shitted their pants. Shang Tsung grins in amusement. You continued to speak, not noticing your cousin's horrified face, all while fidgeting with your hands and wishing you just chugged down the brandy that Johnny was drinking. "Before you ask, no, I'm not in the Hollywood business. I'm just a nursing assistant. Also, if you already have someone you're going with, sorry for putting you on the spot, and I understand if you don't wanna be my plus one-" "I'd love to, Ms. L/N." Shang Tsung notes that your flustered expression looked rather endearing on you. He then makes direct eye contact with Johnny Cage as he says his next words. "And I promise to be the perfect gentleman for you."

Johnny finally springs into action when he swipes a cocktail napkin to write your phone number to give to Shang Tsung. He vaults over furniture, knocks over trays of finger foods and champagne, and nearly runs over one unfortunate producer. You and Shang Tsung turn your heads at the racket, finding Johnny in your face in the blink of an eye.

"Y/N, what have you done?!?"

You told Johnny to chill out before asking him if he knows Shang Tsung. He told you that, yeah, he does from the karate tournament. He tries to warn you about how he and Sonya hate him for the bad things he's done, but he is cut off when your phone goes off. You excused yourself once you realized it was from the hospital you work at. Blissfully unaware of Johnny Cage threatening to rain Hell down on the Sorcerer should he hurt you, Shang Tsung assures him that he plans to be the perfect date for you.

Ultimately, you had to say goodbye to your cousin, having been called in for a work emergency. Shang Tsung had long dipped out of the party. Johnny Cage could only fumble over his words as you told him to give your best wishes to Sonya before you rushed out the door.

A week later, you get a call from Shang Tsung about arranging for you two to meet at Johnny and Sonya's wedding. You tried to ask him what your cousin's deal with him was, and he only responded that Johnny didn't forgive him for what he had done at the tournament. The way Shang Tsung explained it, he was the referee at the Tournament, which Johnny Cage did well up until a certain match where he disagreed with a call he made. You accepted that answer, knowing your cousin.

The rest, from there, was history. You found Shang Tsung to be witty, charming, and polite. He didn't mind your long work hours, as he also had a demanding job with grueling hours, making you both appreciate your talks even more when they did happen. At one point, he found out your address from one of Cage's co-workers (he shapeshifted into said co-worker to snoop through Johnny's contacts) and mailed you bouquets of exotic flowers you've never seen. You invited him for sushi at another point, where he offered to buy you a dress so you don't have to worry much about travel costs.

You couldn't wait to go to Johnny's wedding with Shang Tsung. You saw the dress he had specifically commissioned for you by the finest tailors in his area, and it looked stunning.

Oh, if only you knew what Hell Johnny was going through and how much artillery Sonya had prepared for Shang Tsung.

Playlist While Writing This

"Head Over Heals" by Tears for Fears

"Dangerous Woman" by Ariana Grande

"Judas" by Lady Gaga

"Monster" By Lady Gaga

"LoveGame" By Lady Gaga

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part three: SPRING)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

last chapter (WINTER) | next chapter (SUMMER i)

soundtrack: the closer I get to you - roberta flack and donny hathaway; the cutest pair - regina song; I like it - debarge; crush - ethel cain; fade into you - mazzy star; weak and I'm so into you - swv; april encounter - hen meiwei; k. - cigarettes after sex

(contains: 21K words of more pining (yeah you know I keep doubting the word count could go higher but then gay longing and yapping take over so I apologize 😔), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, content warning for: smoking cigarettes, jokes about cigarettes, description of transphobic and anti-sex toy-historical ideas (sex wars of 1980s), more religious jokes ofc, internalized homophobia, religious trauma, depictions of homophobia + fetishization of lesbians, sexual content, depictions of anxiety)

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SPRING. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

“okay, I think we need to make a pros and cons list,” maria says decisively, taking out her notepad and pen. 

“stop that right now,” amaya interjects, ripping the pen from maria’s hand. “the only con is the roommate thing.”

“which, might I remind you, is pretty significant,” maria points out, stabbing her pen in the direction of lee, who watches the entire interaction in a conflicted mixture of amusement and frustration. “even if you two get together, sure, it’ll be a pro that you guys know how to live together, but still, if something happens, it’ll be messy.”

“or you guys could stay together forever, and it all ends happily ever after. and you’ll also have one of the sweetest meet cutes known to man,” amaya supplies, tucking her hands under her chin and wondrously staring at lee, who averts her gaze in embarrassment, 

it’s been around a month and a half since she admitted to herself that she likes you. 

at least back in january, she had two days away from you to process it at her house before returning to the apartment. the more she thought of it, the more it logically clicked together. the moments of tension and pausing to look at you – for too long. the way she sometimes felt the strong urge to do things unreasonable, nonsensical, or even against her character, just for you. the fact that she wanted you to know her. it all made sense in the framing of her having romantic feelings for you. romantic. even the world itself tasted odd in her mouth, and felt out of place. she had heard people say that once they realized their feelings for someone else, it felt natural to think romantically of that person. but, not for lee. it had felt awkward and foreign to think of you in that way, at least with intentionality. she was used to thinking of you as her roommate and her friend. it felt jarring, this new development. 

the train ride home had had each nerve of hers prickling with anxiety. she didn’t know how to proceed. things had finally started to feel easy, and now, there was this newfound feeling to account for. should she tell you? just the idea of that sent a nauseating sense of fear through her. should she hide it? the avoidant nature of doing so felt a bit more comfortable, but still, the idea of never telling you felt wrong. she felt the need to form at least some plan. it was never in her nature to simply go with the flow. but, the end of the trip had offered her no clear answers – every side had its pros and cons, its negatives and positives.

before pushing her key into the apartment, she had taken a moment to brace her back against the opposing wall, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to release long, quiet breaths. she liked you, so things would feel different – she knew that. but, things didn’t have to be different. she didn’t want them to be different. at least not yet. what you guys had was good – it was a steady stream of support, care and, well, something comforting. she didn’t want to destroy that by confessing. or by letting her feelings take control of her.

of course, like a lot of propositions in her mind, that was easier said than done when she finally had to face you. when you scurried out of your bedroom to meet her, she was immediately hit with the thought of what if things were different? what if instead of pausing in front of her, breathing hard and smiling, you could leap into her arms? just like how a girlfriend would. her breaths nearly shuddered at the word. girlfriend. it also didn’t help how overcome with emotion she had felt in that moment. leaving you, and the apartment, three weeks prior, had been all too difficult, her mind urging her to memorize your face. the three weeks had had her thoughts mostly entrapped by her mother and her house, but, every now and then, they had strayed to you – wanting to share something with you, wondering how you’d like the snowy trees surrounding her house, or just wishing you could be near. seeing you after those long three weeks had felt like taking a breath of fresh air after remaining inside for too long. she was gripped with a strong sense of relief and comfort at the sight of your face, feeling like she was finally back in familiar and safe territory. 

she was also more anxious than usual in that moment. there was something new present, and it threw her off: her feelings – well, at least the realization of them. she supposed they had been there for a while, so technically, nothing was truly changed. but, still, looking at you and seeing not just her friend, but also, someone she… liked, made things feel different. it made her more self-conscious of her own actions and words, wondering if any could potentially indicate her feelings and cause you discomfort. the pressure of the interaction had felt like too much, so she had excused herself and slunk away to her bedroom. it took forty three minutes of lying on her bed and trying to steady her thoughts before she went back to you.

at first, she opted for remaining as quiet as possible, asking after your break, and listening intently while you ranted about being assigned to babysitting duty for your cousins when out, and how chaotic it was. by the time you were done, she had learned the name of three of your cousins. it didn’t seem all that significant a piece of information, but it had to do with you. that gave it some importance. 

her plan to remain quiet had crumbled when you paused after telling her about something you had felt was unfair towards one of your cousins, blinking at her, clearly awaiting an answer. stronger than her resistance towards saying something revealing was her desire to not disappoint you. so, she responded. and you did, too. and that gave her some assurance. maybe to avoid talking on her end would only make things worse. maybe if she took such a preventative measure to avoid saying anything awkward, she’d be shifting the dynamic prematurely, anyways. besides, above all, avoiding mutual conversation with you seemed… impossible. she wouldn’t last long, she knew that.

at one point, you had halted, staring at her, and she looked away from you, fidgeting with her hands, waiting for whatever it is you wanted to say. 

“I, um… I really missed you.”

now, her response to something like this no longer felt solely dependent on her natural inclinations and comfort levels. because now that she knew she liked you, her responses to such sentiments felt heavy with the weight of potentially being something you either do and don’t catch a hint from. and she didn’t want you to catch a hint, she didn’t want things to become messed up with you. 

but, how could she have said anything but the truth to you in that moment, when you were so open and waiting? “thanks.” she had paused, lips pressed together. “I missed you too.”

with time, as the crush – whatever it is – settled into her, things between you two had naturally gotten back to their usual routine and comfortability. every now and then, she still had the temporary moment of worrying over if a word or gesture could be indicative of her feelings. but, it wasn’t nearly as much as before. there was no use in resisting the feeling. it was there before she had even realized it, so she doubted she could do anything to change its existence. not that she really wanted to.

she was content to let the feelings linger. and to continue being your friend, and trying to proceed with how things had been before – how she cherished things being, as embarrassing as it was to admit it. and not act on the feelings, since she didn’t want to ruin things. after all, she truly had no idea of knowing if you felt even remotely close to romantically interested in her. 

however, she soon learned that not acting on it was a lot different than not wishing or desiring to act on it. 

a month and a half later, and she had decided to tell her friends, craving someone to confide in this secret to. she didn’t want to mince words, so as they waited on their orders, she bluntly, abruptly said she thought she liked you. amaya had nearly choked on her gum and maria’s water burst from her mouth. both were equally shocked, though amaya whirled into delighted bliss and maria into skeptical worry. 

“listen, I thought there was something there since the protest, but–”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

maria ignored amaya. “but, I thought of it more later that day, and it could be risky, lee.”

this led to where lee is now. listening as her friends make a pro and con list. she doesn’t really mind it – it is a structured way to objectively look at things. but, part of her doesn’t really care. she likes you, and that’s that. she also doesn’t plan to do anything about it, at least not in the foreseeable future, so listing the cons of her doing so feels fruitless.

when she says as much, amaya frowns. “why? your feelings might be reciprocated, lee.”

lee hesitates. it’s a nice thought… a really nice one. but, she doesn’t know with any certainty. sometimes, you do and say certain things that make her entertain the possibility for a split second, but she always labels it as wishful thinking, knowing her own feelings must make her at least somewhat biased. besides, the things you do that she questions could be done with solely platonic intentions in your mind. she truly has no way of knowing. 

“I don’t want to mess things up,” she mutters, picking at a napkin.

“and that’s fair,” maria replies. “it’s your roommate, and–”

amaya raises a hand. “shut up. lee, don’t listen to her. you experience a crush, like, once in a blue moon. please don’t let this opportunity slide. seize it for yourself.”

maria rolls her eyes. “god, you’re such an english major. there are consequences that could come of this, you know? if her feelings are returned, something bad might happen which can sour the living arrangements. if her feelings aren’t returned, then things might be awkward for both of them.”

“guys–” lee softly says, trying to intervene.

“and you’re such a law major,” amaya bites back. “so pessimistic. like, what about a third option? one where they both like each other, and have an amazing rest of the year living together, with more to come.”

“amay–”

“and, and,” amaya presses on, “the roommate thing is the only con. so, I don’t see why she shouldn’t go for a relationship.”

“well, for one, we don’t even know if a relationship is in the books.”

it’s the truth, but a part of lee aches at hearing it. even if she knew it was in the books, she would still be terrified at the thought of shifting what you guys have. but, another part would feel at least a lot more assured in inciting such change.

amaya sighs. “which is exactly why she should confess.”

“guys,” lee repeats, a bit louder this time, capturing their attention. “I… I don’t think I’ll be confessing anytime soon, so, there’s no need for a list.”

as maria crumples up the paper, lee’s mouth twitches in discomfort, a twinge of regret curling in her stomach. she wishes she had at least taken the chance to tell them all the pros about you.

–

on saturday morning, you stand at the sink, scrubbing away at a bowl while lee makes sunny-side-up eggs. she brought a radio with her back from her mom’s, saying it’s one she found tucked away in the living room. when you had asked her if her mom wouldn’t need it, she said there was already another one at home, and the one she brought had been kept for a while. it was such a simple line, but somehow, the way she had said it felt laced with hesitation. you wondered at it, but she then turned the radio on, so you assumed she wanted to drop it.

a few weeks later now, as the news radio plays in the background, you carefully wash the kitchen utensils, gloves getting heavy and crinkled with soap. as the scent of eggs waft through the kitchen, you can’t resist the smile that tugs at your lips. this is sweet. this moment with her, quiet and relaxed in its domesticity. you feel like you could remain suspended in time forever, so long as lee is in the kitchen with you.

after ten minutes of the calming, repetitive motions of scrubbing and wiping, lee places a plate next to you on the counter, the white surface accompanied with a fried egg and toast. “eat. we can finish the dishes after.”

we. we, we, we. she won’t even let you do the dishes alone, sweet thing.

“you know, I think the weather is officially good enough to open the windows,” you announce, reaching for the latch of the window in your living room, pushing it open. a chilled breeze drifts in, goosebumps rising to your skin. your neighbourhood is showing the signs of winter’s last push before succumbing to spring, the skies grey, slush streaking the roads and snowflakes melted into cold rains.

“yet, you still insist on the tree,” she says flatly, curling into the couch, her plate resting on the plush arm.

you look back at her, smirking. it’s march, but still, you find yourself unable to part with the tree. you two had put it together so soon before the winter break, and had only gotten to really relish in it starting from mid-january. it’s so pretty, and it seems too little an amount of time to have enjoyed it before taking it down. “I know you like it too.”

“mm. maybe,” she quietly mutters as you sit on the other side of the couch. her tongue rolls in her mouth, eyes flicking between you and the cushion between you two. it makes you itch to move closer to her, but you don’t. 

“just ‘maybe’?”

her lips curl up. “if I admit to liking it, you might keep it up till summer.”

you chuckle with a shrug. “so? it’s our apartment, we can do what we want.”

“or do what you want,” she immediately replies, the lines near her eyes crinkling.

“even better by me,” you giggle.

“good to know my rights as co-owner are intact.”

you laugh. “no, no, but truly, should we take it down?”

she pauses, eyes resting on her lap for a few moments. “no.” when she catches a glimpse of your triumphant grin, she rolls her eyes. “shut up.”

your laughter slowly melts away, and your eyes ponder on the tree with a soft smile. “did you ever… I don’t know, have any odd shit like that in your past places? something equivalent to our post-christmas christmas tree.”

“no, not really. I was never friends with my past roommates.”

“why not?” you know you’re shamelessly prying by asking this, but you can’t even bother to care. if learning more about her and her life is prying, then so be it. you need it.

“I don’t know. we were either just amicable. or, well…” she guiltily glances to you, shrugging, “I didn’t like them. or they didn’t like me.”

your eyebrows furrow. as a roommate, lee is great. she’s organized, consistent with chores, she keeps to herself and doesn’t hog any rooms, and she never touches your food, even when you’ve told her she can. “why would they dislike you?”

“my second year roommate thought I was rude. she, I don’t know, made a lot of comments about how I act and how… off-putting it is.” she sucks in a small, shaky breath, head turned away from you. she seems hesitant to offer such a piece of information, and your mind becomes consumed with the task of ensuring her that she can trust you.

“that’s not true, though. yeah, you’re quiet and all, but that doesn’t mean you’re an asshole. you just take time to open up, is all.”

“I suppose she disliked the fact that I never did open up to her, though. I wasn’t the most receptive.”

“why weren’t you?”

she pauses on the question, eyes scanning her lap. “I don’t know. it just felt off. and from what I saw, I knew she wasn’t someone I’d be friends with. so, I didn’t see the point.”

the words are blunt, bordering on harsh. but, lee manages to speak them in a way that’s so earnest and raw that you don’t even flinch. she doesn’t say them maliciously, with bitterness or snideness prickling the edges of the syllables. she’s simply a person who trusts her intuition and knows what she wants. in a way, she’s admirable. your initial surprise morphs into something akin to impressed respect.

“yeah, but, even if she took it rudely, it was up to her to discuss it with you – not just assume you’re some jackass. especially if you never even did anything outright rude.”

“maybe.” she shakes her head slightly. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” she adds, her voice sounding small. “I just knew we wouldn’t get along.”

you frown, waves of sympathy rolling in. “hey, and it really isn’t rude. you just didn’t want to waste her time or yours.” it was an unconventional approach to have taken, sure, and against societal niceties, which so much of the time were fake, anyways, but it was just the honest way to proceed – a tact that not many people relied on. 

“yeah, maybe. she, um…” her eyebrows draw in, and her voice tinges with vulnerable embarrassment, “once, in front of her friends, she said something about me being unfriendly.” the admission is said in a low, shame-filled voice. 

“hey,” you coo again, hand instinctively reaching to her shoulder, you chest nearly bursting when that part of her relaxes at the touch. shit. she actually eases at your touch. that’s new. and it’s so good. you force your mind to remain on the task at hand. “that is horrible. seriously. to say that in front of other people, and humiliate you like that –  that’s messed up. I’m so sorry.” the more you think on it, the more rage begins to pulse in you. how dare someone treat her that way? you can imagine how timid she must’ve felt in that moment, the discomfort that must’ve choked at her, being spoken to like that in front of strangers. she’s already closed-off and reserved enough as is, and it makes you livid to imagine how much this stupid roommate’s comment had increased her natural inclinations to stay away from others. “you didn’t deserve that, lee. really.”

weakly, she mumbles, “thanks.”

“please tell me you know that.”

“I don’t, not really,” she says, sighing. when you give her a narrowed look, she says, “but, I’ll try to see it more that way.”

“good. and, well, you know, I’ll be here, too. to remind you.” your eyes flick over her face, feeling the skin of yours warm up at your own tentative offer.

she finally gazes at you. “I know. thank you.”

she knows. she trusts you to give her that comfort. that’s more than enough for you.

–

lee relishes in the soft padding of the rain against the window as she flips through her reading, scribbling down notes at each paragraph, highlighting important terminology. the noise is a soothing one, making her feel like the edges of her mind are softening and lulling her into a smooth stream of work. she happily loses herself to it, growing more and more satisfied as she progresses.

in the middle of it, her pager beeps and she picks it up. it’s from you, and the message consists of the number of your address. it’s your guys’ way of confirming if the other is home. she punches in the numbers back, sending it to you. 

moments later, the phone rings. despite your message having hinted at a call, she still starts at the blaring noise. she stands from the desk in the living room, and reaches for the phone. “hello?” 

“hey.”

she breathes in deeply at the sound of your voice, something stuttering inside her. what is wrong with her? she’s heard your voice countless times. “hi.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll probably be home a bit later than five. the rain is getting kind of bad here, and I left my umbrella, so, yeah…”

she chews on her bottom lip, stomach stirring with worry. “are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah, I am. just don’t wanna get sick, so I’ll stay in the library till it ends. it’s okay, I’m okay.”

she nods at your reassurance. “okay. I’ll wait for you before eating.”

your following laughter makes her wonder if her words had been too revealing and needy. but, then, you say, “I’m glad,” and she sighs. she’s glad too, but to vocalize two such sentiments in a row feels like a lot.

when you both hang up, she seats herself back at the desk, continuing to do her work. two lines in, she stops, setting her pen down, listening attentively as the taps of rain harden. the more the rain pierces against the glass, the antsier she feels, shifting and picking at the spirals of her notebook. an idea swims in her head, one that had been present since you had notified her of your dilemma on the phone. but, she shouldn’t act on it. she has a lot of work. besides, she trusts you to be okay. you can handle yourself just fine, she knows you can. you waiting at the library, and returning home at a later time, is more than manageable for you. she knows this.

she lasts three minutes before standing up and retrieving the umbrella you had left on the counter. jesus, she’s losing herself.

when she reaches the campus library she knows you frequent, she slows in her steps at the sight of you sitting on the bench outside of it. you’re shielded by the roof, and your walkman is on, eyes languidly exploring the street shining with droplets. she sighs, coming to a full stop. you look… good. she blinks at the thought. you look more than good. you look, as uncomfortable as it is to admit, otherworldly, wrapped in your own private dream world, lost in the early spring day. what are you thinking of? do you like the rain? she wants to know these things with a desperation that catches her off guard.

and most of all, she wants to be near you.

she quietly approaches you, not knowing how to initiate conversation now that she’s here, having gone out of her way to do something for you. she supposes it’s not the first time she has, but this feels different. she can’t think of any clearcut reason for this moment, this gesture. you had required no support, no help. she’s simply here because she wants to make your evening easier and for you to be home sooner. the nonsensical reasoning makes it harder to know how to proceed socially.

you tip your head up in her direction, eyes widening at the sight of her. “lee?” 

she gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

your eyes flick to the umbrella. “did you come just to pick me up?”

she swallows hard. it’s interesting – how embarrassing it can be to just care. now that the impulsive seizing of the chance has been ridden out, and she’s facing you in the aftermath, she can’t help but feel the awkwardness of her own gesture. “um, yes.”

your cheeks lift and crinkle with a wide smile, and she bites her bottom lip at the sight, feeling her stomach turn. “lee, oh, my god, that’s so nice of you.”

she sighs, turning away. “it’s nothing.” raising the umbrella, she says, “let’s go. it’s cold.”

you two take the subway together, and as you walk home, she lets her eyes explore the surroundings of your guys’ neighbourhood. small, green buds have already started dotting the branches of the trees, and the sky is a dull, melancholic shade between blue and grey. the wind has lost enough of its itching chill that she’s gone back to her blue windbreaker, but still holds enough teeth to cause goosebumps to rise on her skin. she peers down at you and your short sleeves, frowning. “why are you wearing so little?”

“ah, slut-shaming me now, lee?”

she rolls her eyes, ignoring the joke. “it’s cold.”

“I know, I know, don’t scold me,” you practically whine, body racking with a shiver.

the small jolt of your body immediately sends her into motion, her next action complete, raw instinct. she silently pushes the umbrella into your fist, shrugging off her jacket when you clumsily catch the handle. 

“lee, lee, no, please, it’s okay,” you protest, your voice hooking onto a higher notch.

“mm,” she hums, awkwardly placing her jacket on your shoulders. her movements are stiff and she feels the flurry of unfamiliarity swirling in her stomach. this is a new kind of touch, one that feels strangely more intimate than her previous ones shared with you. it’s stupid, considering she’s laid her head in the crook between your shoulder and neck, has slept next to you, and has felt your arms hold her. but, this touch is the kind of typical thing you see in films, and it carries a distinctly romantic connotation. brushing her fingers on your shoulders, feeling your bare skin, encircling you from behind to drape the fragment of clothing on – it’s so close, but so fleeting, and she holds her breath for the moment it lasts. 

staring straight ahead, lee grabs the umbrella, resisting the urge to stretch her fingers out after having felt the dry texture of your skin. she inhales a sharp breath, eyes continuing to take in the buildings.

“thank you,” you murmur, and she gulps at the husk at your voice lowering, nodding wordlessly.

“so, how was your day?” you ask idly.

she tilts her head in your direction. “good. my new forensics professor is a really good speaker, and has a lot of knowledge on the topic.”

you beam. “oh, that’s great. better than your last one?”

“in terms of investment in the topic, yeah.” a small smile curls at her lips. “in terms of letting it slide if I miss an exam – let’s hope I don’t have to find out.”

“hey, do the cross just to be certain.”

she simpers, hand easily sliding into the gesture, years of practice refining the skill to perfection. it’s done out of humour, but the gesture still brings forward a burst of mixed emotions. to do such a gesture after months – it feels foreign as a movement. but, with it, comes a slew of memories of praying at church as a child, waiting for clarity abour herself as a teenager, and on what it was, who it was, she wanted. she doesn’t believe in her religion the way she once did, and her stance is that if there is a higher power, it’d be hard to know the facts about them. but, still, she sometimes sees something odd, hears about something miraculous, experiences something locking exactly into place, and she wonders if there’s a god behind it. and if there is, what if that god is ashamed of her? what if the fear she felt in high school was the right way to live, and everything she’s been doing since has been sin? the kind of sin her mother has fervently feared and despaired over ever since she was banished to their lonely, cold corner of the world, and the years of loneliness that ensued from this. when these thoughts occasionally come up, she tries to just ignore them. she’s worked so hard to get to where she is, and has gone through many back and forths. to be able to call herself a lesbian without shrivelling up is already an achievement for her. and she doesn’t want to go back to feeling like a sin.

at the same time, the movement of the cross isn’t unfamiliar. it’s estranged with how little she does it now, yes, but doing it feels akin to an estranged friend returning home. there’s a familiarity of it, tinged with the memory of doing the sign with her mom as a child, when her little hand would be held, and guided in which way to go. another memory is how lee would practice as a child, scared someone would judge her in the shadowed aisles of the church. the gesture carries history, even one she sometimes wants to forget. however, no matter what, it’s inexplicably tied to her mother and days of innocence. two things she can never let go of, and would never find in herself the ability to try in doing so.

you poke her arm. “c’mon, tell me more about the class. what do you like about it?”

she hesitates, but it seems you really want to hear, so she talks about it, going on an unintentional tangent regarding the information. it’s a course she’s already done, yes, but her new professor has sprinkled in so many details and facts that itch a part of her head in total satisfaction. and you listen attentively, asking why she likes this, and remarking on how cool a piece of information she offers is. it makes her warm with gratitude. 

you tell her about the projects initiated by the Gay and Lesbian Alliance group you’re a part of, such as an upcoming zine to mark the end of the year. lee listens as attentively as she can, nodding to your excited rambles. you hold so much passion, and to witness it is like basking under the warm heat of the sun. she twitches at the thought, the content of it a bit too poetic for what she’s accustomed to.

she also can’t help but feel appreciation for the community you’ve found, as well a glad you’ve secured it. she only has two close friends, and a handful of vague, or class-limited, companions, and rare and far inbetween have any of them been gay. in high school, it was nearly non-existent. not even in her school, but in her town. for a long time as a teenager, it had felt like she was the only person who knew what it was to feel those things. now, especially when attending a university that has an organization centered on people like her, she knows that’s not true. but, sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders what it’s like to be surrounded by people who she doesn’t need to describe her experiences to, who silently understand her. she wonders if such community would help in killing the last remaining bits of shame lingering in her, which are always aroused whenever she visits her house.

maybe some day.

when a car whirls by, spraying water in your guys’ direction, she mutters, “here, come here,” smoothly changing your places so that she’s walking closest to the edge of the road.

“no,” you nearly whine, tone complaining. “you already gave me the jacket, and how you’re also on the sacrificial side of the road?”

“‘sacrificial side’ is a tad dramatic.”

“no, no, not when you’re liable to getting sick.”

she shrugs. “no more than anyone else.”

“um, that is not true. you are definitely more liable when you’re skipping meals and up at odd hours of the night.”

she rolls her eyes, embarrassment creeping through her. of course you pick up on all of that. she can’t tell if the gentle scolding is something she likes, or something that makes her want to crawl into a hole. maybe both. after all, she so rarely lets herself be the subject of affection, so the experience of it, especially from you, is one that has her touched and wanting more of. at the same time, it’s mildly humiliating that the person she likes is aware of all her flawed habits. “it’s not that bad.”

“yeah, okay,” you scoff, tugging on her wrist. “come back to the other side.”

“no, just stay–”

“no, no, we each get something, then–”

in your tugging and her pulling, the umbrella drops to the ground, and lee immediately stiffens and winces at the sensation of the april showers soaking into her hair. you instinctively cover yourself with her jacket, your shirt underneath clinging to every curve and dip of your body. despite the cold, wet stickiness of her shirt clinging to her, she can’t help but quietly watch the sight, something stirring in her. you look good. really good. she feels her breaths get heavier. if you were hers, she could take you back to the apartment, and undress you, worship your body, warm it with her own, and kiss every one of those spots, over and–

she gulps down hard, averting her eyes. she distracts herself by picking up the umbrella, lifting it over you two. you’re laughing at the moment, hair soaked, eyes crinkled, and she bites back a smile. “stop. it’s not funny,” she gently chides.

“it is – just a bit,” you giggle. 

she shakes her head, a smile cracking through. “less than a bit. don’t get too ahead of yourself. you’re the one with the jacket, after all.”

“oh, yes, you poor thing, how could I be so inconsiderate?” you drawl in a mocking tone. “let’s get you home right away.” you don’t wait for her, continuing on your way home.

and she follows. like she probably always will.

when you two reach the apartment, and you take a good look at her beyond the chaos of the rain, your eyes widen. “oh, my god, lee, you’re drenched! go, go shower right now.”

before she can even process the words, your hands are on her back, pushing her in the direction of the bathroom. “but, my clothes…”

“I’ll get them, you just go shower.” your eyebrows are furrowed, mouth pinching down, and she wants so badly to brush her thumb over it and make it better. “where are they?”

she hesitates. she usually doesn’t like people entering her room on their own, and knowing this would be your first time doing it makes her a bit uneasy. but, it’s not because she doesn’t trust you – which is the reason she often dislikes the notion, paired with her privacy. it just feels a bit exposing. but, she wants you to know she trusts you, so she nods, and quietly confirms, “second drawer has my home clothes. third has… my intimates.” her voice lowers for the last words, feeling her face heat up.

you chuckle. “noted. I’ll hang it on the handle.”

she nods, shutting the door with a soft click. when she hears your footsteps quickly pad away, her forehead leans on the surface. god, what if you think her underwear is weird?

–

you burst into her room, again momentarily caught off guard by the meticulous cleanliness and lack of objects. as you step to her dresser, movements fast, you smile at the sight of a book on her bed, the remaining pages very few based on her bookmark’s placement. The Power of Myth. the book you got for her birthday. you will your mind to focus and whip around to the dresser.

in the flurry of rushing for lee, guilt gnawing at you for partially being the reason she’s now drenched, your movements work too fast for your brain and you open her first drawer, eyes scanning for her clothes. when the contents reveal themselves to your gaze, you suck in a sharp breath, reeling back with an abrupt, shaky step.

fuck. it’s a dildo and harness.

your stomach is a tornado of flutters and flips, and you feel almost light-headed at the onslaught of sensations. you gulp down nervously, and take one more peek into the drawer. after a moment, the guilt of snooping invades your senses, and you push the drawer shut with a loud bang. what the fuck is wrong with you?

with hands that feel lighter than usual, you tug her second drawer, and pick out sweats and the red sweater you sometimes see her in. you open the third drawer, and swallow down at the stack of plain bras, and comfortable, unpatterned underwear. she even has some men’s underwear, plain shorts-shaped underpants. you feel an embarrassing, feral, flustered sort of heat at knowing what she wears under all those modest clothes. 

☆

god, you sound like an absolute fucking pervert. you cringe, selecting a pair of grey underwear and closing the drawer with a heavy breath. you walk to the bathroom, neatly tucking them into the outside handle, trying not to rattle it too much, feeling almost as though she can sense the lust and shame through the door. you pause, listening to the shower run. without warning, images flash into your head of what she must look like, naked and wet, lean, gentle body coated in shining drops. fuck. you clench on nothing, backing away and to the living room.

your mind is swirling with thoughts. why does lee have the dildo? okay, well, that’s a stupid question. obviously, she’s using it for something – she didn’t buy it to study the damn thing. though, that does sound like an oddly lee-esque thing to do. your mind skitters with the possibilities. lee has always seemed so solitary that it was difficult to imagine her having an active sex life. of course, you had wondered about and considered it before, and you knew it was a possibility. but, this confirmed it more than anything. 

although, you suppose it could be something she doesn’t use on other people frequently, a thought that relieves you temporarily. because, truly? the idea of her frequently using it on different people makes something sink its claws into your gut – jealousy and childish anger. the notion of her using it on one specific person makes you feel even fucking worse. casual hookup, friend, girlfriend – you don’t care. you don’t want her to make love to someone else, especially someone who she wants enough to go back to, whether it be due to intimacy, an emotional connection or just good sexual chemistry. you don’t want her sinking it into anyone but you. 

it’s not the first time you’ve had such a thought. your feelings for lee have stirred and expanded like a lovely, permanent stain on a couch for nearly a half-year now. of course you’ve had the thought of what it’d be like to be hers, to be the person she carries on her arm, the one she kisses goodnight. of course you’ve thought, even fleetingly, about how she’d make love to you. but, the possibility of her potentially being with someone else – having a girlfriend, having someone who she might be going back to for sex and growing closer to – finally rearing its ugly head, and for the first time in a very grounded, very possible form of evidence, makes you squirm in what can only be described as devastated rage.

maybe it’s just something she’s saved from a past relationship, and is waiting to use on a future partner. but, why would she keep it in such an easily accessible spot? maybe she uses the dildo on herself. god, now that is a mental image that sends your body shifting on the couch. lee on her back, bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead, eyebrows scrunched in focus, lids wedged shut in pleasure, pushing that dildo in and out, set on pleasuring herself after a long day. god, does she use it when you’re out of the dorm? is she on the receiving end when or if she uses it with other people? at that last thought, the low burning embers of arousal are now washed out with ice-cold water. 

you still, focusing on the sounds ringing through the apartment. the shower is still on. feeling rather relieved at not having to face her yet, you sink into the soft cushions, head lolling back onto the edge. god, lee…

she’d probably be so patient pushing it in, just taking her time until it’s fully sheathed in your pussy, pushing your walls apart and filling your hole till it’s flush with the silicone material. maybe she’d hold your thighs apart, observant eyes drinking in the sight. or perhaps her shy, awkward nature would have her burying her face in your neck, holding you close and breathing you in as her hips thrust in and out slowly. you grind down on the couch without thinking, feeling yourself begin to grow sensitive. how else would lee have sex? would she relish sliding her fingers into your wet heat, letting the long size of them stretch you open? would that little satisfied grin she sometimes gets rest on her face as she watches you squirm and shiver? 

you freeze at the noise of the door creaking open before shutting again. she probably opened it to get her clothes. images flash in your head of a very soaked and wanting lee, pushing your back against the tiled wall as she pounds into you, soft lips skimming the skin of your neck. you rub your thighs together, feeling your center ache and dampen.

☆

when the door opens again, and you hear lee head into her room, you force yourself to sit still. you try to think of something else, but your thoughts keep straying. it’s impressive, in all honesty, that she has one. you remember being in high school, and hearing your peers’ debates regarding if the use of dildos was too phallic-centered for feminists, and if using sex toys was a betrayal of the cause. the sex wars were all you guys spoke about for a long time – reading articles and engaging in long talks about the dissections regarding ethics and what was considered sex that did or didn’t align with feminism. for a long time, you had been overwhelmed and conflicted with all the ideas. now, you know better. not every penis is aligned with, or even remotely related to, heterosexuality or being a man. not every phallic-object is either, and there’s nothing shameful in taking pleasure in it. it’s relieving in a way, to know lee probably feels the same way. after all, you still knew some people in your feminism class who avoided sex toys. despite being involved in the same movement, you're very much on an opposing side there -- clearly, considering your reaction to lee's toy.

when she walks out in her fuzzy, red sweater, brown hair lying damp along her back, bangs combed back, you curl into the couch, praying to some invisible force that her observant eyes won’t catch any telltale signs of where your thoughts had been. she glances at you, and you look away. relaxed, fresh from a shower and barefoot – she’s the picture of casual domesticity, and you gulp as she brings a glass of water to the couch, sitting on the other side. 

she nods at you. “you should shower too.”

“mhm, yeah, in a sec.” you pause, a deep ache in you yearning for some answers. you know it’s forward of you, too forward of you, to pry into lee’s love life. but, you’re desperate to know, for the fear of her being with someone else, or just as bad, wanting someone else, gnaws at you like a bitter virus. “lee, can I ask something?”

she tenses up. “okay.” 

“I was just wondering because, you know, you haven’t mentioned it before, so I just got curious…” you force yourself to continue, ignoring the whirling butterflies in your stomach almost triggering a nausea in you. “do you, um – are you dating? like, anyone?”

her eyes immediately widen, blinks alert and intense. “why are you asking me this?”

damn her curiosity. “I’m just wondering. we never spoke of it, you know.”

she sips her water slowly, as though the question demands caution. that scares you, and you hold your breath in anticipation. finally, she mutters, “no, I’m not dating anyone.” 

you nearly release a sigh of relief, pinching your lips together to keep it trapped inside. still, there’s one more inquiry drawing a finger of temptation along your throat. “but, um, do you want to? date anyone?”

her dark eyebrows, soft and striking, draw in and crease her forehead. “are you asking if I… like someone? or if I generally want to date?”

you pause, not even certain of which you desire to know. both are important, despite having initially meant the former option. you swallow hard, trying to force the tone of your voice to be casual and light-hearted. “well, you can answer both.”

she sighs, the noise short and sharp. you hope you’re not annoying her, the idea of such a thing sending a wave of insecurity rolling through you. but, still, you remain silent, needing an answer.

“I’m, uh, open to dating if it’s the right person. but, it’s not something I’m actively pursuing.”

“like, you’re not actively pursuing someone, or the very concept of dating?”

she looks at you, puzzled. “I don’t understand. what do you mean by ‘the concept of dating’?”

you suck in a heavy breath, starting to feel frustration build up. “I mean, do you mean you’re just not actively pursuing anyone right now, or are you also not actively pursuing dating in general – blind dates, set-ups, that kind of stuff?”

“oh.” she shakes her head. “I’m doing neither.”

your shoulders slump, unable to tell if you’re relieved, or conflicted even further. if she isn’t actively pursuing a specific person or dating, then that means she’s not committed to anyone – and perhaps that she doesn’t have her heart set on a singular person. but, her vagueness and lack of answer for whether or not she likes someone begs the question of if she really does want someone. which, in turn, would make any pursuit of her from your side fruitless. but, you can’t find it in yourself to pry more. she already seems uneasy with the line of questioning, and you yourself don’t know how you’d proceed with any answer she has to give. if she says yes, she does like someone, you deal with the gruelling clash of wishing it’s you, not knowing if it’s you, and dealing with the sour possibility of it being someone else. if she says no, there’s the relief that her eyes are reserved for no one, but then, does that mean she doesn’t see you in that way? of course, you have wished for her to like you back, and have pondered on the possibility. so, if her answer no means the latter, does that mean you have no chance? that you ought to give up? no. asking her directly would be too tumultuous, too confusing. 

“are you… dating anyone?” she asks, her voice small. you wish it could be because she doesn’t want you dating anyone – but, it could just as much be because it’s a vulnerable topic and lee is, well, lee. you try to ground yourself through these little pockets of hope that open for you.

still, you’re eager to make it known that you’re extremely single. “I’m not.” after a pause, you can’t resist asking, “why?”

lee shrugs, eyes trained on the ground. “you asked me, so I just thought of it.”

you sigh quietly. could she be any less interested? you feel petulant suddenly, wanting to remain silent until she finally admits something, anything. but, maybe, there really isn’t anything for her to admit. maybe she isn’t interested. you’ve known this the entire time that she might not be. you’ve pointedly reminded yourself of it when getting too lost in your daydreams, and too tightly gripped by the conviction that maybe she returns your feelings. the possibility of her not seeing you in that way always strikes a deep, burning sting into your mind. still, it’s not her fault. and summer is fast approaching, as is the end of your guys’ lease. if you’re going to be losing her in this close, intimate way, inevitably so, you’d rather the loss not occur early due to your own childish irritation and stubbornness rooted in your feelings.

and, so, you talk. but, you cannot find it in yourself to completely move on from this topic, not when you’ve managed to bridge the awkwardness in approaching it and may not have the nerve to do so again in the future. “you said you would date if you found someone right, right? what does – well, what makes someone right for you?”

her lips tighten together, forehead’s lines deepening as she momentarily ponders the question. “I just want understanding, is all.”

you cock your head. “what do you mean?”

“I don’t need… something, you know, really grand. someone right would just be someone who knows and accepts me. someone who understands, and who I feel comfortable with understanding me.”

the admission is tenderly spoken, her voice low and hushed, a sweet blush to her cheeks. her jaw is clenched, revealing the tension she feels at such a topic. but, her words, like always, are honest and pure. it makes sense. she’s someone who takes so much time to open herself up, someone whose every, miniscule layer counts for something as it’s pushed away to reveal her true self. she wants someone who knows her beyond those reservations, who knows and sees her for who she is. someone who has the patience to travel through the outward impressions until they know her through and through, and who will embrace the parts of her she chooses to trust them with. with someone as private and solitary as her, it makes sense that the person she wants to love is the person she doesn’t have to explain herself to. does she feel that way with you?

you grow curious as your mind wanders to her lack of lovey-dovey language. it’s lee, so it’s not surprising that her language is so somber and objective. but, you want to dig into her brain a bit more, see what she thinks of romance, soulmates, love – the whole lot of it. you’re sure your feelings for her are also instigating the burning itch to know more, but it’s also the fact that lee never seems to talk much about this stuff. up until this point, she’s seemed totally indifferent to romance, and it makes you long to know more. “but, love? what about love?” does she maybe not care about that? does she only want companionship, but without all the heavy emotions?

“for me, what I described and… love are the same thing.” she sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, then moves her head up, eyes suddenly latched onto you with unwavering focus. “it’s what lasts longest.”

“past all the passion and heat?”

she clears her throat, eyes darting away. “yeah.” after a moment, she asks, voice tentative, “what do you look for?” she watches you carefully, sharply, from the corner of her eye.

you hesitate. what do you look for? it’s not like you have zero experience, you’ve definitely had your fair share of getting-to-know-you stages and dating. but, it almost feels like those past experiences, rather than leave you sated in singlehood, have only increased your want of something new. your conception of love, and learning what it is and isn’t, has been a winding, directionless journey for years. from fleeting, mind-consuming, temporary infatuation, to heartbreaking obsessions, to mild attraction in what was better off as a friendship – you’ve experienced a range of it all. a share of good experiences, but definitely a lot you would’ve forgone if it hadn’t served a lesson. it’s made you tired and worn, and scared to try again, but you’ve always known that as soon as affection and its power worms its way into you, the doubts you have pale in comparison. perhaps you’re young enough that your past experiences, and their eventual failures, haven’t totally crushed your hopes. in fact, they’ve just made you overly eager for something that’ll last, something that’ll feel completely right this time.

“well…” you shuffle in your seat, suddenly on edge with the weighty question and her complete silence. “I guess my answer is a bit different than yours. I’ve had good experiences, for sure, but also a lot of mediocre ones. and I guess after having experienced heartache more than once, I just have even more of a, like, longing for something that’s really romantic and long-lasting. like, the mediocrity and breakups have only made me crave something that’s both right and will be forever – even more.”

“so, you’d like something special?”

you can’t help but smile. special is exactly what you need. “yeah.” 

“and long-lasting?”

your eyebrows furrow. “uh, yeah? why?”

her voice is so quiet, continuing to drink her water. “just asking.”

in the silence that follows, you feel the need to explain yourself further, just so she doesn’t feel put off by your answer, in case she, well – you push away the possibility. “I’ve just had experiences that have all ended.” you huff out a humoured scoff, realizing how badly you’re stating the obvious. “I just mean, well, I’d like to not go through heartbreak again, so I want a relationship that feels right when I enter it. you know, no doubts. the other stuff is just me being tired of things ending or not feeling right, and just wishing for something that could be romantic, right and also just last long.” as you keep speaking, your tone shifts to one that’s more heightened in both passion and frustration, hand gestures flailing.

lee’s nostrils flare, and a muffled laugh leaves her mouth. “yes, I can tell.”

you roll your eyes. “you know what I mean.”

her smile softens before melting away. “yeah. I do.” her head angles in your direction. “you deserve it.”

you swallow, feeling your legs tingle from the anticipation of her saying something like that. “you do too.”

she hums, and that’s that.

–

when lee decides to accompany you to a party on a friday night, she truly wonders what’s become of her. you two aren’t even dating, and she’s practically putty in your hands. when you had asked her about attending a party hosted by a friend who had in last semester’s mythology class, you did it with a laugh, and she knew it was because you expected her to give a resounding no. your head had snapped in her direction when she muttered a quiet “sure,” eyes wide. at first, she herself wasn’t even sure why she said “yes.”. all she knew was that you were going to be somewhere, so she’d rather be there than at home by herself. jesus, what a weird thing to feel.

maria practically burst into laughter when lee called her to confirm her attendance, and after she joked about how amaya would have a field day, lee rolled her eyes and hung up. It’s been so long since she last felt this way, and frankly, she had forgotten just how humiliating it is for her friends to see her in such a state.

on the subway ride there, you plug both yours and her headphones into your walkman, an offer of sharing music that she quietly accepts. you two sit like that, side by side, in the rumbling movements of the subway, silently listening to SWV together. other than the initial tension she feels at listening to something as romantic as Weak with you, it’s rare for her to feel so comfortable like this, so at ease with sharing a lack of words with someone else. she often won’t instigate a conversation if she doesn’t need to, but she will be cognizant of the way the other person might be reacting to the silence, and that, in turn, makes her feel uncomfortable too. it’s always just been easier to be alone than to have to grapple with the subtle and inescapable expectations of interacting. it always takes a while before she can truly feel comfortable sharing the emptiness of a space with someone, even longer to totally stop worrying. but, she’s at that place with you now. and you’re there with her, too. she can feel it, in the way you slump next to her, shoulder brushing hers, and in how your head leans back on the seat, eyes wandering along the cart. she wants to ask you what you’re thinking of, but she doesn’t want to interrupt this moment.

when you two reach the party, she sighs in relief at the sight of it less packed than the one she had attended in october. still, her mind scans her surroundings as soon as you both enter, trying to gauge just how many people are present and how stifling it may be.

in the middle of this, she feels your hand, warm and soft, slide into hers. her stomach tightens at the sensation, and she breathes in a shuddering inhale. she knows why you’re doing it, and the knowledge of that makes her feel only more exposed and pulled at the seams for you to stare upon. she wonders if anyone looking this way suspects that the two of you are a couple. a pleasurable tingle simmers in her stomach at the thought. images flash in her mind of you guys dating, and this sort of hand-holding being expected everyday, on every walk. it’s a nice thought, and she grinds her teeth together at the aching longing she feels inside. she can’t help but admit just how good it feels to think of having you in that way. but, she knows she shouldn’t become hopeful. not when she has no intention of pursuing you.

when you two start moving through a narrow hallway, making your way to the living room, people crowding in, she grips your hand harder and gratitude floods her chest when you return the squeeze. 

her eyebrows suddenly furrow, eyes darting to your interlocked hands. when had she stopped tensing at your touch? her mind searches for the moment, but she cannot place it. the realization makes her equals parts awed, surprised and uncomfortable. it has been that gradual, she supposes. her hand flexes in yours. how did you do this?

as you two approach the fireplace, she tenses up at the sight of maria and amaya, prematurely cringing at the earful they’re going to give her at this sight. her suspicions are confirmed when she catches the eye of maria, who smiles at her, then, after glancing towards your interlocked hands, whispers to amaya, who’s suddenly alert, very obviously seeking you both out.

when you guys move close, lee’s lips firmly press down, sending her friends a sharp look that she hopes shuts them up. 

of course it doesn’t. “hi, mr. and mrs. lee harker,” amaya drawls out, her pink cheeks clearly indicating how tipsy she is. lee’s eyes flutter in exasperation as maria whacks amaya's arm. why couldn’t have two extremely awkward people have adopted her into their group? why did it have to be amaya and maria?

she glances at you warily, immediately taking note of how embarrassed you are, your laughter trembling more than usual and quiet in volume, eyes flicking along the room. protectiveness immediately kicks in, and she says, “we’re fine,” not wanting to bring more attention to their teasing.

your hand suddenly flinches in hers, and a surge of anxiety pulls through her gut. was that the wrong thing for her to say?

amaya seems to notice lee’s tension, for she pats your arm down, saying, “sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“no, no, don’t worry, I know,” you respond, nodding, though lee notices that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. her mind whirls with possibilities. are you upset that such a joke was made? do you feel uncomfortable? are you upset with her for not correcting them? did lee assume wrong in believing you were fully public about your sexuality? she feels her chest begin to get heavier. 

“here, come,” maria cuts in, waving you both over. “let’s play beer pong.”

as you two walk behind maria and amaya, lee’s breaths feeling shorter and more shallow, you turn to her suddenly. “hey, you okay? I can feel your pulse.”

she gulps down, self-consciousness pushing her to release your hand. it surprises her just how wrong it feels to do so, the feeling becoming more apparent when your eyebrows draw together. in her state of unrest, she can’t tell if it’s confusion, hurt or anger. jesus, this is exactly what she feared. that her feelings would make things unsettled between you two, and shatter the total comfort it had taken months to achieve in your friendship.

at your lack of response, you move closer, and she steps back. “I– lee, what’s wrong?”

your eyes, wide and focused on her, make her feel cowardice, and she looks away. she takes a few moments to collect herself. she doesn’t want to confide in you about a worry so small, so miniscule, and so meaningful in its relation to you. but, she knows if she chooses to start dismissing and hiding her feelings with you, it could very much just become the start to a chain of similar events. this instinct, this automatic kick to hide what she’s feeling – that’s what’s natural to her, that’s the reflex she’s leaned into all her life. returning to it could prove itself as all too easy of an occurrence, and who knows how long it would take to undo that? she doesn’t want that to happen. her nose makes a scratchy noise as she sharply breathes through it, and with that, she says, “I just– are you uncomfortable? because of what amaya said?”

she watches the way your throat moves as you swallow. after a moment, you shake your head softly. “no, of course not. I felt a bit… shy, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

she nods tightly, the relief overwhelming her in a long wave of lightness. 

“is that what you were nervous about?”

she stares at your docs, and silently tilts her head in the affirmative. 

“lee, even if I was uncomfortable, I’d never take that out on you, you know? you didn’t make the joke. but, besides that, I wasn’t uncomfortable or upset or anything, okay? just a bit… shy, is all.” it seems to take some effort on your end to say those last words, and she hopes it’s not because you’re downplaying the weight of your feelings. but, you said you weren’t uncomfortable or upset, and she doesn’t know how to proceed other than accepting your words. 

“okay?” 

she glances up at you, shifting under the heaviness of your attentive gaze. “I’m okay.” and it’s true. your assurance has helped ease her breath, and other than the discomfort she feels at the crowd of the room, her body is steady. 

“okay, now, let’s go play beer pong,” you drawl with a grin, tugging her by her arm. she wants to ask you to hold her hand again, but she resists, knowing it’s too forward.

though it takes a ridiculously long amount of time to convince the already drunk host to let lee play due to her abstinence from alcohol, despite her telling you, amaya and maria that she really doesn’t care, she finally is at the edge of the table, ball poised in her hand. she suddenly feels like she’s in high school again, the pressure of watchful eyes assessing her athletic ability making her tense. the fact that you’re there, on the other side of the table, cheeks lifted in bright grin, doesn’t help whatsoever. she supposes most people would feel supported, but your unwavering gaze only makes her feel even more unnerved. just like she did in high school, she focuses her attention to the task at hand, eyes skimming along the open gaps of the cups before lightly tossing the ball into one. when she gets it in, the host, derek, amaya said his name is, whistles. 

she ends up being the only one on her team to get every ball into the other team’s cup, which in all honesty, is probably because she’s sober. you miss two of your five shots, but even in those moments, lee twists her mouth to resist smiling, shy at the idea of being so plain in her affection for anyone to see. though, perhaps she speaks too soon, for as soon as she spots derek laying a friendly hand on your shoulder, she feels her jaw clench. she forces herself to look away. you’re not hers, you’re not someone who it makes sense to be possessive over. she has no right to. despite repeating this to herself, her stomach burns at the sight of derek continuing to keep a hand to your back as you guys play.

luckily, you slide from his touch when your eyes catch the sight of the girl lee met in your feminism class. you run over to her, swinging your arms around her. it should help, but it really does nothing to quell the simmering envy in lee’s stomach. she wishes she could touch you so easily, and vice versa. she knows it doesn’t make sense – you probably hesitate to touch her sometimes because you know her aversion to it, but she can’t help but irrationally wish you’d forgo all the consideration. see, this is why crushes are so anxiety-inducing to her – they make the sensibilities she always depends on wane for more personal pursuits and fulfillment.

she’s shaken out of her thoughts when your friend beckons everyone to the ground. “everyone, get into a circle! let’s do spin the bottle.” at her side, you’re grabbing her arm, fervently shaking your head, but she drags you to the ground next to her.

lee grits her teeth. great. 

“if it lands on you,” amaya whispers as the bottle swivels around, “just say you don’t want to kiss anyone. besides, I’ve played this game where people fucked if the bottle landed on them – this is nothing.”

“cold comfort,” lee whispers, pointedly staring at her.

she watches in a complete lack of amusement as the bottle lands from person to person, instigating a range of pecks to make out sessions. not that she knows from watching, she can just tell based on the time it takes and the noises. she simply stares at her lap when a kiss occurs, too uncomfortable to invade on such an intimate moment. not that there’s much to invade on, considering how many of them were encircled on the carpet of derek’s shared house. at least fifteen, while the rest of the guests mingle on every floor, playing games or taking shots together.

everytime the bottle blends into a blur from how fast it turns around, lee freezes. she’s afraid of it landing on her, but terrified it’ll land on you. if it does, she isn’t sure how well she’ll be able to control her body’s show of discomfort. she might just have to excuse herself to the bathroom. yes, that’s what she’ll do. 

when amaya and some other girl kiss, lee nearly leaves prematurely when one of derek’s friends wolf-whistle. she chooses a spot on the carpet to hone her gaze in on, and tries to reign in her annoyance. idiots. from her experience, the men who are most eager to watch any form of intimacy between women are the same ones who find it unbelievable that a woman’s attraction may not include them. they existed in high school, and they still do in university, it seems. she looks up at you, wondering if you’re thinking the same, blinking in surprise when you’re already watching her. when the two of you lock eyes, you playfully roll yours, and her lips fold into a forced smile. even in this moment, her stomach can’t handle looking at you, knowing what might come. she wishes she had just stayed at home tonight.

of course, the bottle eventually lands on you. she tears her eyes from you, choosing to focus on the feel of amaya’s hand softly rubbing her back, mentally choosing which words she’ll use to excuse herself. she leans into amaya’s ear, whispering, “I’m going.”

“um, I don’t think you can.”

lee glances at her in confusion, then moves her eyes to the bottle, nearly closing them in equal parts relief and aggravation when she realizes where it’s pointed, her stomach dropping so hard she feels light-headed for a second. jesus christ. 

derek chortles, clapping his friend’s back. “is there a lesbian goddess looking down on us or something?”

“yeah, it’s telling you to go fuck yourself,” maria sharply says, glaring at him. “stop with the fetishizing.”

derek raises his hands. “it was a joke, relax. jesus. can’t say anything these days.”

“lee?” amaya tentatively asks, her hand on lee’s back stilling.

lee glances to her friend’s thigh, shoulders heaving as she takes in a deep breath. she knows she needs to look at you, to see what you’re thinking, what you want – even if she already knows what her decision will be. her gaze slowly roves past your form before carefully landing on your face. your eyes are wide, lips parted and quivering, staring at her in clear nervousness. and what might be expectancy.

she swallows hard, piercing, relentless anxiety plummeting down to her abdomen. she doesn’t know what you want from her, and even if she did, she doesn’t know what your reasons are. but, it doesn’t really matter, because she knows she’s not comfortable with this. part of her is tensing with the curiosity and desire to kiss you. to let the intimacy that’s taken months to grow between you two progress even more, to feel the softness of your mouth. but, she can’t. not when it might mean nothing to you. not in front of all these people. 

and so, she shakes her head. “no.” 

“awe, c’mon, don’t be like that–” derek’s friend coos. 

“I said no,” she firmly repeats, staring at her hands. she can’t bear to look at you. what if you see it on her face? what will she see on yours?

“why not?” the question comes from the friend she met in your feminism class.

irritation springs in her. why can’t anyone just respect her answer? “because I don’t want to.”

she realizes how it comes off moments after saying it, especially when silence rings in the group. she can’t bear to look at you, fear gripping tightly at her. what if she’s hurt you? the pressing need to know overpowers the sense of alarm she feels. she looks up, nearly flinching back when she sees your mouth curved tightly, eyes cast down, hands wringing together. when you meet her gaze, your eyes are bouncing around, not remaining on her for more than a second at a time. you can’t even meet her eyes. she doesn’t know if this is due to embarrassment, shame or pity. she’s not sure she wants to know.

she lasts two more rounds, before excusing herself quietly and leaving.

on the porch, she lights a cigarette, wanting nothing more than to escape this party and lock herself in the refuge of her bedroom. how did things go downhill so fast? she wants to go back in, and tell you how she doesn’t dislike the idea of kissing you, not at all, and that she’d kiss away every frown that makes it onto your face if she only had the courage to take a risk. but, there’s too many people inside, too many eyes that’d be trained onto her as she approaches you. and who is she kidding? even in privacy, she could never say those words.

five minutes later, she guesses, she hears the screen door open, and she knows from the silhouette it’s you. her head tilts in your direction, taking a slow drag. “game finished?”

“no. I just needed a break. and I…” she hears your pause, the sentence hanging in the air, “... wanted to check if you were okay. those guys were being dicks.”

she screws her eyes shut. you’re still so nice to her, even after she said something that might have embarrassed you, and that definitely caused awkwardness. she wonders if there’ll ever be an end to the gentleness you distribute to her. “they were.” saying it out loud, remembering their obnoxiousness, sparks another dose of anger in her. so entitled they were, to seeing whatever forms of affection they felt content to turn into their own plaything. the kind of guys who are content with only accepting lesbianism in dosages that are self-satisfying to them. anything that doesn’t have to do with the permanent removal of them. anything that they feel can be put away in a neat box after their temporary engagement with it. almost as though it’s so incomprehensible for attraction to exist separate from men that they always need to be involved in some way, even as a voyeur.

“lee?” 

she snaps out of her impassioned, internal tangent, eyes flicking to you. the moonlight coats your face in blue light, and she’s suddenly struck with the thought of: I should have kissed you. but, as soon as it runs its course, she looks away, knowing she’d never have had the nerve, or sense of ease, to have done such a thing. 

“are you upset?” she mutters.

“no.” you pause. “why would I be?”

you both know why. she wishes you could just bring it up directly instead of tossing around vague questions. now, it’s on her to bring it up and address what’s going on. but, then again, how many times have you done that for her? is it really so unfair that she should now? her eyes trace the nearly-bare trees, lined with the sprouts of small, green leaves, which shine as emerald in the darkness. “because I didn’t do what the game asked of me.”

“well, I–I was upset, at first.” 

she flinches. she always knew it would, but it feels terribly hollow to know you are, or were, upset with her.

“but,” you continue, voice riding on the smooth whistle of the wind, “I know that’s not fair. you’re more than allowed to not want to kiss me – or, or anyone.”

she nods. she knows this already. “then, why were you upset?” she supposes it’s because of how embarrassing it might’ve been to not be kissed in front of others, to have it publicly declared that someone doesn’t want to kiss you. she nearly winces at the memory of her words, wishing she had chosen more carefully.

“um, because…” she hears your fingers rasp on the railing she’s leaning on. “I felt kind of, like, insecure? I don’t know. I mean, did you not want to because, like, there’s something wrong with me?”

her head darts up, shoulders stiff and nearly strained in tension. a small groan rumbles in her throat. “no. not at all.” god, something being wrong with you is the absolute last thing on her mind. and it’s one of the least likely reasons she’d ever refrain from kissing you. she’s sure there are some things flawed about you, there are with everyone. but, that’s no reason she’d ever decide to avoid or postpone anything with you. she’s ready to accept you. “that’s not the reason,” she whispers.

she can hear your breaths becoming shaky, unsteady. “then, why?”

she squeezes her eyes shut, debating on what to say. she doesn’t want to lie, but the fear of how you’ll perceive her honest answer gnaws at her. 

finally, she shakes her head. she wants, so badly, to reassure you in this moment and make it clear just how, well, not wrong of a person you are. even if it means you catch wind of her feelings, she can deal with that later. if amaya was here, she’d tell lee to do the romantic thing, to say something wholly honest. to admit, something, anything, that sheds a bit more light onto her feelings. lee doesn’t think she’s quite ready for that, but she’ll tiptoe on the precipice of it if it means making you feel better.

“I didn’t want to kiss you in front of all those people. because…” she pauses, thinking on how to ensure you it has nothing to do with you as a person. she straightens up, turning to your wide, curious eyes. “because if I kiss you, I don’t want it to be in front of an audience.” even the mere words I kiss you have her mouth tasting different. it feels like a reverent trifecta of words, like some sort of prayer. 

she gulps down, needles of worry poking her insides at your silence. she shifts her body away, and watches the grass on the lawn, wet with the afternoon’s rain, the deep breaths of cigarette smoke soothing her slightly. and she waits.

–

and you still your breathing in shock. if she fucking kisses you? if? as in that’s a possibility? the idea that that’s what she means feels too far-fetched and too good to be true. if this was someone else, you could convince yourself that those words just slipped it out without them thinking or realizing. but, lee always proceeds with caution. she pauses before talking, she speaks calmly. if she says something, she means it. so, if she means this, then what does that indicate? that kissing you is a possibility? it’s something she has thought of before? or does she just mean that in some completely hypothetical, alternate universe where she’s aligned to very specific feelings, then she wouldn’t kiss you in front of others?

you watch her as she continues to lean along the railing, elbows propped onto it and eyes observing her surroundings, grey smoke whirling around her as she exhales the smoke. she looks beautiful, and you want her so bad. you want to ask more, but you’re scared. scared her answer will prove of her indifference to you, and you’ll be forced to figure out how to abandon these long active, aflame feelings. if anything, you’d prefer to swim in these feelings then submerge only when forced to, like if you’ve done nothing to pursue her by the time the lease is up, and then, you both part ways, and you’re forced to endure the heartache. the idea is a sour one that causes a swell of pain in you, like some internal bruise. but, what could you do other than that? confess to her like some nervous high schooler? try to subtly pursue her with flirtation and gestures? even if you did that last option, you doubt it’d give you answers. you can’t see lee confidently flirting back in such instances, and she might not even register your words as flirting. and confessing… it can so easily cause damage to what you guys have and your own heart.

for so long, you’ve been content to carry these feelings for her, but not act on them. but, a culmination of things – the semester approaching its end in just a matter of three months, the jaunting reality check of realizing the chances of her dating and being with someone else, and her saying this kind of stuff – is starting to make you itch for more than a friendship. the idea of not even trying to seize a chance with her makes you sick. but, the idea of doing so and getting your heart shattered makes you just as disoriented in fear.

it’s why you still can’t say anything now. even though you want nothing more than to shake her body and ask her if she wants to kiss you, if she wants you even half as badly as you’ve wanted her, because even half that amount would leave you feeling so fulfilled. because that’s how much you crave her.

“thanks,” you whisper, not wanting to completely ignore her efforts to reassure her.

she nods.

“do you want to get out of here?”

“I do.” she taps the cigarette against the railing. “but, if you want to stay longer, I’ll wait.”

your stomach swells with a bleeding sort of affection that drowns out any other emotion. when she’s this kind, how can she not expect you to like her? 

“we can go.” in all honesty, your mood for a party has been doused by the liquid heat of her words and your subsequent pining. you want nothing more than to digest what she said in pure silence, lest for the music in your walkman. 

she pauses, head cocking to you. you think she’s about to say something, but she just quietly raises the cigarette to you. you carefully take it from her, gulping when your fingers brush her cold skin. “wait here,” she softly says, then heads in, probably to tell everyone of your guys’ departure. 

behind you, you can hear the Debarge song your cousin used to be obsessed with playing. you still remember some of the lyrics – I like the way you comb your hair, I like the stylish clothes you wear, it’s just the little things you do that show how much you really care. you think of lee, suddenly feeling that you, too, would like to write a song listing the things you like about her. there’s so much. she also makes you feel so unnerved just by a look, and has made your ability to feel passion for another person, an ability which had been in slumber for so long, awaken with a great start. you're still afraid of what might happen, of the future, of potential heartbreak, but liking lee, and wanting her, is something you're powerless against.

a few days pass, and things feel quieter than usual. you can tell lee feels some amount of hesitation around you, from the way her shoulders tense when you enter the room, to the way she takes longer than usual to respond. you don’t know if it’s out of guilt, or fear that you’re upset, or something else, but you hate the stilted tension you both have become ensnared by. so, one morning, after taking some deep, calming breaths, you approach her with a peace offering. 

“hey.” you wait for no answer, immediately continuing. “so, if we take the subway up north, we can see those cherry blossoms that everyone’s been talking about. do you want to go today?”

her lips part with a quiet, wet sound, and you try very hard to ignore it. after her eyes dart between you and the papers in front of her, she nods. “okay.” 

an hour later, as you two walk up the path leading to the park’s cherry blossoms attraction, surrounded by lime green buds sprinkling the branches and hugging every crevice and curve, you ask, “were there cherry blossoms where you grew up?” 

lee looks at you sharply, as though surprised that you spoke. you nearly smile – did she expect you to carry on in complete silence? of course you wouldn’t. you want things to go back to usual. 

“yeah, we did.” she stares ahead.

okay, complete silence it is, then.

that is, until lee sighs, then continues with, “my house is surrounded by trees. it looked nice this time of year. my mom, um…” her mouth flinches. “my mom once knitted me a blanket of the blossoms.”

something in you throbs in adoration at the idea of a young lee cuddled in such a tenderly made gift. “that’s so sweet. so, she knits?”

“knits, crochets – she made us a lot of stuff growing up.” you see the bob of her throat as she swallows. “she was a nurse, so it was her way of relaxing. plus, easier to afford than buying those things.”

you absorb this information. with how independent lee is, it makes sense that her single mother worked so hard, and that lee was probably left to fend for herself a lot of the time. you wonder if lee took inspiration from her mother growing up, and used her as a guidepost in forming her own steady, assured habits. and in light of this information, you suppose lee’s lack of spending might’ve also taken root in how she seems to have grown up financially. 

your fingers reach into your pocket, skimming along the camera she had bought you.

“it’s also just more personal,” you add. “you know, a homemade thing like that is always going to beat store-bought.”

“why do you think so?”

you shrug. “because, you know, it’s something physical that a person poured hours into creating, just to make you happy. and there’s something sweet about it, isn’t it? having a physical, like, product of someone’s affection, being able to hold it and know they did too.”

her lips fold in tightly together, and she blinks hard at the path ahead. “yeah. but, she doesn’t do it anymore.”

you frown. “no?” 

she shakes her, the corner of her lip pulsing. “no. she doesn’t have it in her to do it.”

“what do you mean?”

“my mom…” a loud exhaling puff of air slips from her nose. “she’s not well.”

you feel the downwards pinch of your lips deepen. does she mean it physically, mentally or emotionally? either way, you wonder if it has something to do with why she dreads going there so much. as the only daughter, is she over-relied on? “what do you mean?”

“she sometimes becomes… well, disconnected. to me, her surroundings, even the stuff she says. at least, it feels like she’s disconnected. and she’s, um, really scared for me – because I live away. and I think she’s scared for herself too.”

“because she’s alone?”

her eyes flutter shut momentarily. “yeah.” her voice is raspy, heavy with responsibility.

sadness surges through you. she looks so pained in confessing all this, so wounded over being away from home, away from a mother who clearly is struggling. but, from what lee has said, it feels like she was struggling in her own ways too. “that’s not your fault,” you try to gently remind her.

“it is, in a way,” she mutters. “I could’ve stayed closer to my house. but, I wanted to leave.”

“why? why did you want to leave?”

“because I was tired of it all.” her voice is hushed, breathy with the shame of the admission. anyone could tell how bad she feels to admit this. “tired of her holding on so tight. of feeling guilty for always leaving – guilty for a lot, really. of her paranoia… for the world and about sinning, and–” she cuts herself off, lips claiming together, turning away from you as though she’s aghast at having admitted so much.

but, it doesn’t feel like so much to you. her vague descriptions of her situation only further your confusion and curiosity. “why is she so paranoid?”

“she’s gone through a lot – when raising me on her own. and that just made her scared of everything outside our home. and even before those things happened that caused that fear…” she bites her lip. “she was cut off from her family before having me, and criticized a lot. I guess she was made to feel like a sinner, and she was scared of me becoming the same. or, I don’t know, just feeling the same. but, it was too much, her reminders and pressure. even when she was barely saying anything, I was scared. I couldn’t take it.” her words begin to waver at the end, and a piece of sympathy stabs you in the chest. you can see the great effort it’s taking her to confide in you about this. sure, it was clear since that first visit back home in october that whatever her and her mom had, it was complicated. and the more her facial expressions became decipherable to you, and the more she spoke to you about her mother, the clearer it became just how much the visits strained her, and the total, utter weight they placed upon her shoulders. but, it also became revealed just how much of a necessity they were for her, and despite all the discomfort, the intense amount of care and loyalty wrapped in those hours and days for her. but, this is the first time she’s given such a specific account of what her and her mom struggle with. just hearing all the layers to it is enough to make you falter in your steps, and you marvel at how much she must have gone through to lead up to her departure for university. most of all, you feel a pain for lee – she deserves to have a bond with her mother that is steady and comfortable, and to hear just how disarrayed it is in reality makes a longing stir within you. a longing that is purely for her sake, solely to secure her some more peace after all she’s clearly undergone in life and continues to carry with her.

“I’m sorry. that she was cut off, and that it led to, you know, you receiving so much pressure from both her and yourself. and for all the other stuff, like the paranoia and you feeling like you couldn’t leave her.” your apology feels so weak. all you can do is really just comfort her with your words and provide her some empathy. but, it changes nothing. she has still suffered through her life, and your words won’t erase the aftereffects it has on her. the lack of action you can really commit to makes you feel pathetic. but, you suppose that’s part of being her friend, someone who care so much for her. being there, even if you can only do a bit to help. because giving her any help takes precedence over any self-satisfaction you can wring out from accomplishing something bigger in assisting her. “you didn’t deserve to go through that. I wish you had had things easier, really. I can’t even imagine how hard it was – how hard it must still be.”

“thanks,” she mumbles, hands stuffed into her pocket. her eyes skim along the ground before latching onto your face, and she tilts her head in acknowledgement.

your hand itches. how badly you wish you could hold her and tell her everything will be okay.

when you two arrive at the cherry blossom trees, you’re immediately swept into immense awe, the feeling making you afloat in delight and admiration. the small flowers are an array of white and cream, small peaks of pink scattered about through the army of them. students surround you and lee, many of them sitting on the ground and playing card games together, eating food or drinking from a shared bottle. other people walk about, taking strolls or walking their dogs. the thing interlocking all of you together is the collective spark of joy and curiosity from the cherry blossoms, children being lifted by their parents to tug some from the branches, while other people reverently touch the petals.

you try to take a peak at lee, eager to see what her response to the scenery is, a satisfied thrum running through you when you catch a glimpse of her small smile, eyes scanning the park in her careful, unfaltering way. 

“see? aren’t you glad we came?” 

she huffs with a noiseless laugh. “you’ll really use even a natural phenomenon as a chance to brag?”

you feel your shoulders loosen at her response. thank god. things finally seem to be easing up. “well, if I won’t, who will? you certainly don’t give me compliments,” you mockingly say with an exaggerated frown. 

“mm,” she hums, pretty brown eyes drawn up as they skitter over the branches. “it just takes a lot of effort to come up with them.”

you burst into a loud, offended round of laughter. “is that statement meant to indicate social awkwardness or a lack of good traits in me?”

she shrugs, her smile widening. “I’ll let you guess.”

“if I do so correctly, will you tell me?”

“I shouldn’t spoil the fun.”

you snort at just how fucking deadpan she sounds saying that. “fun? I’m sorry, but who is it that leaves every party early again?” you taunt teasingly, bumping her shoulder. secretly, you harbour the wish that mentioning the party in a moment of banter will ease whatever tension and awkwardness has been caused by it, and any hesitation you felt at your choice fades away delightfully fast when she only rolls her eyes, responding with, “who is it that returned with me last time?”

“listen, in my defense,” you drawl, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “derek and his friends would’ve spoiled the rest of the night.”

“yeah. they would’ve.”

you falter at the quieting of her tone. “you didn’t like them either?” you already know the answer, of course.

“no, I didn’t.”

you smile at her bluntness, then wave a hand to a spot under a particularly large tree with winding, crooked branches that provide some shelter from the surprisingly bright afternoon. “here?” 

she nods, but continues to stand with her hands in her pocket. when you cock your head in confusion, her eyes awkwardly skip between you and the ground. oh. oh. she’s waiting for you to sit first. your mouth quivers with the temptation of a grin, stomach a whirlwind of butterflies. yeah, you certainly did good picking this one. 

when you sit cross-legged on the ground, lee shuffles to a spot a safe distance from you, stretching her legs out, and you nearly groan. you’ve been close to her numerous times by now, sure, but in her presence, you feel practically touch-starved, never being able to relish in enough of the pleasant tingle of her arm brushing yours. if you were together, maybe lee would brace her back against the tree, and you could lie between her legs. or lay your head on her lap. you feel a pleasure at thinking of these spots on her body you’ve never had the pleasure of touching before, seized by a desperation to know what they feel like. her thigh against your cheek, shoulder against your ear, wrist against your lips. 

she pulls a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, nimble fingers easily tugging one out. she carefully scans the grounds before taking out a plain silver lighter and lighting it. you could practically bury your face into the muddy grass. how does she look so good doing everything? how does lighting a cigarette, when it's in her hands and between her muted pink lips, turn into the most angelic of actions?

when her eyes sharply capture your gaze, you nearly flinch, immediately forcing yourself to linger on the small family walking by on a nearby path. 

“what is it?”

you ignore her intense eyes. god, why did her sparing doses of eye contact serve to do nothing but unnerve you? “nothing…” you fumble for something, anything, really, to say that can take the focus off you. “just thinking about what a great anti-cancer campaign you’re making for the children here.”

she laughs lightly. “yeah, well, I try.”

you raise an eyebrow at the cigarette. “very hard, apparently.”

her beam softens into a gentle tilt of her lips. “I’m glad it’s paid off for some recognition.”

“at this point, just admit you’re an attention whore, lee,” you tease. lee’s the farthest thing, you know that. she’d probably be content to slink into the background for the rest of her life.

you pull out the camera she got you, pointing it at the trees, the sunlight bursting through the edges of the leaves in a way that sends them into lime jewels, glittering under the sun’s heat. a thrill runs through you. spring really is here, warmer days to come.

when you direct the camera to lee, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, but says nothing, continuing to smoke. your hands feel like they could tremble in this moment. it’s your first time photographing her, and if you get the film developed, it’ll be your very first photograph of her. the knowledge of it all – capturing her in permanence, keeping her secure in this physical memento that’ll always exist somewhere, no matter what happens – makes the moment feel heavy on your heart. even just making it clear to her that you want her locked – no, that’s not right – kept alive in this way, is a vulnerable admission in and of itself, even if it’s declared silently through the simple raise of your camera. you can’t help but feel relieved she says nothing.

you snap the photo, her pose relaxed, torso leaning back on her palms, which are planted to the ground. behind her is a flood of white and pink flowers dotting the world, the grass alit with the flaming light of the sun.

you set the camera in your lap, thumb stroking the shining black surface. how powerful this little box is, to be able to retain and express a single moment forever. you know it’s a blessing to have such power available through the technology of these days, but how apparent does it make the sentiment that a moment only lasts for as long as a singular shutter. the way the petals litter the ground, how the kids’ laughter sways along with the wind, lee’s closed eyes as a particularly fresh breeze kisses that spot between her brow – you’ll only have these moments before your eyes for a few minutes or even a few seconds. and then, they’ll be gone. it leaves you with a bittersweet ache – how the witnessing of something can mean so much, and instigate such a flood or silence of emotions, and then, in a matter or minutes to hours, be gone and faded into a memory tucked away. sometimes, even though it’s silly to admit, you sometimes feel like you’re running out of moments to actually live on, scrambling to fill your time with things that can make for good memories rather than just trusting your life to naturally supply them to you.

you suppose part of that is due to the pressure of being in your youth. so many people frame university as the peak of their life, an amazing couple of years that simmer into oblivion the older a person gets, which apparently ends up being for the best, since they claim life never ends up quite matching up, anyways. you’ve heard this rhetoric so many times that you feel like there is a ticking clock constantly pricking at the back of your mind, reminding you pointedly of just how much time you have left before graduation. you feel like you need to keep doing more than before, and truly seize this apparently opportune, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

but, you don’t like the thought that things end here. that after university, or one’s twenties, life is just a downhill slope that you have no choice but to roll down the steep shape of until finally dropping into an abyss. you’d much rather life have the directionless shape it’s possessed so far, when happiness and good phases strike you with resounded and delighted force, and when hard times cause you to plummet when you least expect it – all without warning. your so-called “youth” surely hasn’t been all that ideal, and it hasn’t aligned to any exclusive feeling or experience. so, why should you subject the rest of your life to such a bleak, single-dimensioned expectation? sure, with each new year, each new stage of one’s life, more complications, complexes and dilemmas arise. that just seems part of the territory of having more time on earth, and so, more experiences to amplify the nuances and contrasts of life and struggle. but, surely, that cannot mean life simply ends when the number “two” leaves your age. because you’d like to think that in your thirties, and forties, and however many decades, even if life becomes more of a confusing jumble to map out, the lingering time on earth has only provided you even more experiences to dance and experience contentment in. you hope life is like that, for the idea of things becoming a slow, dull tug downwards as soon as you enter the real world is one that is too heartbreaking to face.

“what are you thinking about?”

you pick at a blade of grass. “wouldn’t you like to know?” you don’t even know what compels you to say such a thing. if it’s because you simply want to tease her, or if it’s a desperate attempt to seek out confirmation for her care for your thoughts.

“I would.”

you feel your face warm at the earnest declaration. “I was just thinking about – I don’t know, do you ever feel pressured to, you know, live it up at our age? have all these experiences because people say this should be the best time of our life?”

“no.” she takes a slow drag, pondering on your words before continuing. “I know what I do and don’t like, and I… don’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.” she shrugs lightly. “I just like doing what I know I like.”

“that must be nice.” that sense of security in herself, in the passage of time.

“you feel differently, though?”

“I don’t know.” you feel embarrassed now to confide in her about such a thing, knowing that she cannot relate. “there’s all this pressure about living out your twenties, and life ending once you depart from that age, so I get scared I’m not doing enough.”

“yeah.” she nods. “but, it’s not really true, is it? your life won’t end in your twenties. I think the people who say that are probably just… I don’t know – going through, like, recollection, nostalgia or some kind of monotony.” 

“that’s what scares me, though. that that sentiment of, like, missing your youth, is so common that it might indicate that those feelings – that emptiness – are inevitable.”

“and maybe they are. but, that doesn’t mean you have to deal with it if you don’t want to. if you ever feel that way, change it.” her eyes raise to you, honest and bright under the sun, shining to a light brown. “and don’t spend time on anticipating those feelings. that’s counterproductive.”

you huff out a small laughter. you don’t know if it’s her logic-driven thought process, or discardment of common social dilemmas, but her blunt words are so structured that you cannot help but chuckle in a mixture of amusement and endearment.

“if I do ever get in that slump, promise to help?” you ask, raising your hand to hers.

she blinks at your hand before enveloping it in hers. she’s dry and cool in your grip, and you wonder how cold her skin would feel under your lips. “promise.” 

–

lee feels pride simmering in her at the sight of you using your camera, but she hides her smile behind the cigarette, wanting to keep her happiness at watching you to herself, like a private secret.

when you aren’t looking at her, she watches you, eyes taking in how you bend in all different kinds of angles to get particular shots. at one point, your shirt runs up your back and she very intentionally rips her eyes from the patch of skin and faint hairs she saw. she’s more than thankful that you’re occupying yourself when her mind begins to race with images of sliding her palm along that spot and feeling its warmth.

after you lean in close to photograph her hand with the cigarette, so close she can smell your shampoo, she finds herself compelled to ask, “did you used to photograph?”  she can’t tell if your eagerness is due to a dormant passion getting awoken, or if this is your first time engaging with it.

you nod, smiling down at the camera. “yeah. I used to have a lot more hobbies as a kid. you know, photography, reading, drawing, writing. I was always interested in those things.”

from your class choices, to the kind of work you do in your organization, lee could always tell that you leaned towards creative work. but, rather than feel any sense of curiosity satiated at your answer, she feels it only fold in on itself and heighten. “what kind of things did you write?”

“I went through so many phases, I can’t even pinpoint one.” still, you bring your knees up, thoughtfully wrapping your arms around them. “for a while, I was really into fantasy. I loved writing stories on, you know, magical swords and daggers, characters who fit into all the archetypes. and imagining myself in those stories, too. when I hit puberty and started having back to back crushes, it was romance.” lee picks at her sleeve when you say this. so, romance had been something on your mind for a while. she wonders if any experience you could ever have with her – romantic, that is – would automatically be a disappointment. 

“I also had a sci-fi phase,” you add as an afterthought. “I loved, and well, still do, imagining myself in different stories.”

she hums. you seem to have a world of tales available to you, lost in your mind. she wonders what’s that like, to have so many universes and worlds to transport yourself to. she wants to learn about them all. she wants to know what exists in the ideal worlds you’ve spent your life travelling to. “what, um… drew you to those kinds of stories?”

“I guess it all depended on what I craved at the time. or what the media I was surrounded myself with caused me to crave? sometimes, I’d get through a fantasy series in a week, and real life would feel so boring in comparison. and so, I’d write stories, and through that, could at least temporarily live in that world, you know?”

she nods. she really does know. as a child, she had partaken in such little fantasies, imagining herself to be in the films she often watched alone when her mother worked long hours at the hospital. it gave her a sort of solace from what often felt like a lonely existence. 

“that sounds nice,” she admits. “that your thoughts felt believable enough that you could transfer to another place.”

“did you not have that?”

“not really. if I did, I don’t know, daydream, it’s not something that would last long. even with wanting to act – I thought it was a logical way to escape real life. I don’t think my thoughts were enough to convince me.”

“I get that. in a way, it might be a blessing.” when she raises her head to you, you smile. “sometimes, the daydreams being so convincing made it all the more heartbreaking when I came back to reality. I got to experience this beautiful fantasy, and then, it just shattered.”

 when lee had realized things would probably not work out for her as an actress, she supposes she had also felt shattered in a way. her escape plan had been broken. to you, the escape plan must have been your fantastical refuge. she can understand why it would have caused pain. “yeah. I mean, like you said, maybe it was a good thing? did it help you… like your life more?”

you chuckle. “not really, considering I always escaped back to it. now, though?” you glance at her and when she tilts her head, you continue. “now, I’m better with it. I also just don’t really do much creative stuff anymore. it never feels like I have the time.”

“maybe you should make a schedule.”

you giggle. “thank you, lee.”

she blinks. she doesn’t really know what’s so amusing, but you’re laughing, and she’s content with that.

–

“who would’ve thought there’d ever be a day where lee harker is the one who extended an invitation to a public place?” 

lee huffs slightly, backing away as you make your way through the bathroom, shoes softly tapping along the cream tiles. “yes. to the bar, not the bathroom.”

“they said you were in here!” you weakly justify, knowing the only real reason for being here is having wanted a moment alone with her before heading back out. 

not that it’s so unbearable outside. after all, it is a bar that lee willingly agreed to attend, so you knew from the get-go that it’d probably be quite soothing in comparison to some of the other places in this area. the part of the bar with the tables is alit with colours of pink and red, a soft flush to every object in the room, almost as though every inch is tinged with love. the streams of colour swarm even into the bathroom, casting everything into a hot, ethereal glow that seems to make your surroundings hazy. like a faraway dream.  

you and lee had spent the afternoon pouring over your work together, and due to her lighter load, lee left earlier to meet her friends, since maria had wanted to see the local band performing. she had initially bid you a goodbye, then promptly left, but not even ten minutes later, she returned back to you and fumbled out her notebook and black marker, quickly scribbling the name of the place down and handing it to you.

and now, here you are. when you found amaya and maria, amaya gestured for you to ignore maria, who was watching the performance in a trance, saying into your ear, “lee’s in the bathroom. the one downstairs, the guy here said it’s barely used.”

the music is muffled in the confines of the bathroom, and it feels like a private utopia. the warm light wraps around lee’s skin, and she looks iridescent, something spun out of flame and ash, eyes impossibly darker in the dim light.

“hm, avoid making that joke with them.” her lips quirk up. “I think two parties in a row have already started convincing them that I’m okay with more.”

“two in a row?” you scoff. “lee, the one you went to before the last was in fucking autumn. october, to be exact. that’s, like, a seven month gap.”

“well, my gaps in this circumstance tend to align more to seven years.”

you snicker. “fine. fair enough.” her words give you pause and you roll them over in your head, like a dice, trying to determine any possibility, before asking, “why did you come last time, then?”

she leans on the edge of the counter, and two sinks down from her, you perch up on the ledge. “I, um… well, I didn’t want you going by yourself.”

perhaps you’ve gotten too accustomed to her friendship. back in fall, a confession like that probably would’ve had you jumping in ecstasy. now, it just brings in a wave of embarrassment with a pinch of annoyance. so, she only came because she felt you’d be a loner there or something? self-consciousness and desire for more from her make an ugly pair, and you feel the bitterness of their combined powers.

“I wouldn’t have been alone,” you mutter, looking down. “my friend was going to be there.”

“I hadn’t realized.”

“so, if you had, you wouldn’t have come?” you can hear the petulant, undignified lilt to your voice. you know you sound irrational right now. it is damned sweet that lee came to make sure you weren’t by yourself. but, you pine for something more, and you know it’s selfish, but it’s been months, and you’re wanting.

“um, I don’t know.”

you sigh sharply, turning your head from her even further.

“what’s wrong?”

her voice quietly echoes in the bathroom, and you hear the soft trepidation lining her words. you hate that you’re the one to have caused such uncertainty. again. you debate perhaps lying, but the idea of that makes you wince. even if the ordeal of exposing the truth is a tad humiliating, the idea of starting to lie to lee is worse. you two have finally built to a friendship that is easy and vulnerable – how could you ruin that? and you can’t bear being dishonest with her. besides, she’s said something before that was… questionable, what with the night of the party. perhaps, you also have a one-use pass to say something questionable.

“I kind of wanted to hear you went just to… I don’t know, because you wanted to hang out with me.”

“I went for that too.” the admission is immediate and gentle, and you start at the lack of hesitation in it. perhaps you seeming off is compelling her to do it to assure you.

her response should sate your desires, and in some ways, it does. but, the mention of the party, the reminder of what she said about if she kisses you, only instigates a newfound desperation for answers. what did she mean when she said that? before, you were so concerned with having your friend back that you didn’t care to try to investigate, and fear of what could happen if you did only held you back more. but, what if this was your only chance? what if lee never says anything like that again?

trying to subtly pry, you ask, “did you, um… regret going?”

you watch her eyes flick up, glancing at the stalls across from you before going back down. “why would I?”

“you know…” you gulp down hard. just out with it. do it. “spin the bottle. the guys being jackasses,” you add, trying not to shine the spotlight entirely onto the potential kiss.

she shrugs, tilting her head in your direction. “I did regret it for a bit. I felt – I don’t know.” she shakes her head, and you hear the sharp breath of her singular inhale. “I felt worried I had embarrassed you.”

your mouth curves. god, she’s so sweet and darling. how no one has currently captured her heart, you don’t know. “I was a bit embarrassed. but, it’s not at all your fault. you had – have – every right to say no. I just, I thought it had to do with me.” you rub your palm on your neck, feeling your face burn at the admission. fuck, it could be so goddamn anxiety-inducing to practically lay out on an emotional autopsy table, insides spilled out for her to scan.

“it didn’t,” she says in a hushed tone. you can barely even look at her. “if anything, I would’ve…” a soft tapping noise emerges in the bathroom, and you know it’s her nervous fidgeting against the cold counter. “... preferred you over anyone else.”

you freeze at the words, feeling your nails dig into your palms. god, does she even realize how big a deal some of the stuff she says is? she tosses it around as though it’s nothing, even though you know she gives careful consideration to every sentiment spoken. what does she even mean by that? your body is still feeling weightless from the bolt of pure shock, as though you’re far away from this moment. there were awfully attractive people in that circle, people you had felt great anger at the thought of lee kissing. and she had secretly preferred you above anyone else, even her close companions? but, you suppose it wasn’t truly such a secret, since she just told you. and maybe that’s because there’s nothing to truly hide – maybe her desire for your lips in that moment had hinged on nothing but comfortability, friendship, and maybe shared sexual preference.

there’s only one way to find out. “why? because we – we have, I don’t know – we’re both gay? or because we’re friends?”

“mm,” she hums, nodding.

disappointment strikes at you like a harsh, ringing bell, the waves of the impact sending rolls of hurt through you, your stomach aching at the sudden emotion. “that’s it?”

from your peripheral vision, you see her shift. “‘that’s it’? did you… want there to be something else?”

fuck. she’s catching onto you. “I… I, well, no, I just wondered if there was.”

“why are you wondering?”

your stomach flips, her very direct questions shattering any semblance of control you thought you had on the situation. it leaves you horribly unsettled, and you readjust yourself on the seat, trying to ease the weight of your words with some distracting movement. “I just, I don’t know, I would just like to know.”

“but, why? any other reason could make things… different.”

your head whips to her, holding your breath without realizing. surely, she must be talking about romantic feelings. no other admission having to do with the almost-kiss could cause discomfort. only something having to do with having wanted the kiss could cause things to change. nothing else. right? you’re sure of it. but, again, she’s speaking in a hypotheticals – she’s not confirming she has these reasons herself. perhaps she’s just truly curious about why you’d want to know. it feels too good to be true, to think she really could want this kiss.

but, the part of you that itches, and longs, and feels like raw flesh under her gaze, wants to hope. and if you hope that she has those reasons, then you hope some kind of assurance will help. “different isn’t bad. and you know, if something one of us said ever did cause, I don’t know, change, then I think we could get through it.” hypocritical words, considering you had been hiding your feelings for months out of fear of the heartbreak and change that could be aroused from a confession. but, it’s true – at least, it feels true when you think of lee confessing. because you’d ensure that anything she does, or says, would never cause a strain on your end. when you think of her being the one to initiate something, a sort of protectiveness takes over. you’d never let her words lead to a severement of the friendship, not if you can help it.

she’s silent.

your fingers cling onto the edge of the counter, the nausea of anxiety swimming in your throat. “please, lee, is there anything else?”

her eyes meet yours, and they’re practically shining in the shadows of red. “there is.”

your fingers ache. “tell me.”

“I wanted to kiss you. I want to, still.”

your eyes burn, and you grind your teeth together, trying to will away the sudden urge to burst into tears. you didn’t realize just how badly you had wanted her, and itched for her to touch you, until now. just the confession from her is enough to make you want to crawl to this dirty, tiled floor and sob against it.

“I want you to, as well.”

she breaks the eye contact, her breaths shaky and heavy. you see the slow rise and fall of her shoulders, and your hand flinches. 

“lee, come here.”

she glances at your knee before nodding quietly, lifting herself from the edge and slowly making her way to you, not stopping until she’s right in front of you. her hands fiddle at her sides, and her sense of nerves is an odd sort of comfort to you, your own stomach still prickling with the anxiety and anticipation of the moment. hands trembling, palms sticky and sweaty, you gently take ahold of her wrists, and tug her closer. she lets you lead her, just as she had that day in the subway station. god, what would have happened had that day never occurred?

her face is impossibly close to yours. you feel the smooth coldness of her watch, and you nearly shudder at the warmth of her nearness. you can feel the weight of her so close to you, and with just another tug, your chests could easily press together. you feel your mind go numb, slightly delirious, at the exhilaration of being so close to her. you could count her long, beautiful lashes if you so wished it. her gaze lifts to you, and your eyes skitter down, stomach turning at knowing she just caught you watching.

her hands carefully slip from your grip, and you feel your gut tighten in momentary panic until she places the flat of her hands on either side of your thighs. seated on the counter gives her a few inches over you and she leans down so your faces are levelled. you gulp, feeling your body taken captive by an indescribable amount of flutters and whirlwinds.

“can I kiss you?”

your lips part, the entire moment feeling far from real life, wrapped in the hazy veil of a dream or a fantasy. you’ve thought of this moment so many times – and to experience it feels like something far from the bounds of everyday life.

but, it also feels extremely real. the soft guitar of a Mazzy Star song streams through the walls, you can hear the tremble of lee’s breaths, you can feel the sticky, wet sweat of your armpits, causing your shirt to cling to you. you smell the cigarette smoke on her, and you wonder if she can smell the musk of the long day on you. the counter isn’t comfortable, and presses too harshly against you, and your lips are still dry from the chill of the rainy afternoon.

It’s painfully real, and the last thing you’d ever want is any alteration, no matter how minor.

you nod, trying to still your breaths.

lee’s eyes scan your face, just as it has so many times before. has she wanted to kiss you every one of those times?

her lips close in that hard, determined line, and you know she’s ready. those dark eyes remain on your lips, and she slowly moves in, eyelids shutting as she presses them to yours. 

the two of you meet with a small, wet sound, and your eyes close on instinct, red and blue spots clouding your vision. her mouth is soft, so soft, like every other part of her she hides, and you shiver at the feeling of them tenderly cushioning yours, wrapping around and exchanging the tenderest of touches with your bottom lip. lee kisses like she does everything – with focus, hesitation and a slow build to comfort. her lips move with careful slowness, small wet noises coming from her ministrations, and your stomach aches with how gentle her movements are, as though your mouth is a place to study and commit to memory.

☆

she cups your face with one hand, thumb gently smoothing over the bumps of your pimples, and you nearly groan at the touch. fuck, how long you had wanted her this way, how much you had craved and hungered to feel these little touches that only resided in fantasy – those long fingers along your jaw, the pad of the thumb on your cheek, those pretty, pink lips moving against yours. every small touch has you feeling a new burst of agony, excitement and arousal, all mixing together to replenish and answer the longing questions that had accumulated over months of wanting this girl.

this girl who can’t keep away from your mouth, who is starting to move faster and harder, her mouth massaging against yours with wide, firm movements. the tip of her tongue skims across your bottom lip, and you feel yourself clench at the cold touch of it. without meaning to, a soft gasp pulls from your lips, and lee’s tongue pushes into it, brushing against yours once, twice, before breaking from hesitation and beginning to stroke it with gentle laps. you squirm against the counter, aching to push down on it and grind against it, the spot between your legs aching. 

her other hand raises to your back, and you marvel at how big it feels, the touch sending you into a long, painfully obvious shudder. lee’s lips twitch, and you know she’s smiling. her fingernails skim along your back over the fabric of your shirt, and you moan softly at the tickling sensation. another puff of air hits your lips, the movements of lee’s mouth stilling for a split second, before the velvety sound of her laugh rings in the bathroom.

☆

god, she’s laughing against your lips. laughing against your fucking lips. her tongue is out of your mouth, but her lips still brush yours, upturned in a wide smile. the realization feels like the most important, cherished discovery of your entire life, and it being a true reality, one that you’re experiencing, makes you feel like you will remain locked in this moment forever, never able to move on. how could you, when this moment existing, truly occurring, is the one thing to be made real from months of private dreams and pining thoughts? you will never move on.

as the heat of the moment sizzles down, and the fog clears, lee continues to smile against your lips. you mumble, “shut up.”

your eyes wander from her nose to her eyes, and you’re frozen at how fond she looks. laugh lines creased, under eyes more defined from the lift of her smile, blinks slow and gentle, so different from how harsh they are when she’s deep in thought – she looks at you like something to treasure, and you’ve never felt so desired and exposed. not that your memory is reliable right now – every sense, every thought, is wrapped up in the kiss.

“mm,” she hums. “okay.” then, she leans in again. 

–

when lee calls her mom that night to check in, and she’s asked the usual question of: did you say your prayers?, lee doesn’t feel like it’s a lie to say yes, even though she doesn't say her prayers, and never has. it's because she held you tonight, for the first time, and that felt so close to holiness. 

she feels like she's running on a high. she feels like she could almost commit herself to belief again, so long as the scripture is written on your lips. 

[skybluewritings]

Tell me when did your winning smile become a smirk? Steve Harrington x fem!reader Part 2/2

Warning: Mentions of alcoholism, Sexist language, references to sex

Note: This is part 2! Thank you so much to everyone who read this!

Six years later…

New York, Early June, 1990

She stared at the notepad in her lap, multiple sentences were angrily scrawled out in lines of thick biro. It was a Sunday and she’d purposefully made no plans so she could for once write but several hours later nothing was happening. Pages and pages of paper lay scrunched up around her living room floor. She’d been trying to plan out the same article for the past six months, it turned out being the personal assistant to the editor of a magazine left very little time in the day. And whilst she was of course grateful for work, any work, she had hoped in her spare time she could put to use all of her experience from the job into actually writing something good. Instead, she was left with a sore wrist and a strong case of imposter syndrome.

In her final year of school, she’d decided to apply to NYU to study Journalism. Although they went practically every summer to the east coast her parents were initially unsure about her studying in another country. However, after a trip to New York and visiting NYU they were all for it. Vivienne had called delighted at the news and had suggested she call Steve to give him a nudge in the direction of applying for college. She knew he’d always struggled in school but found it odd he wasn’t even applying? He’d seemed excited growing up at the prospect of college. She never called him but figured by the time she saw him that summer he would’ve gotten in somewhere. The summer came, except Steve wasn’t there, Clyde would barely even mention him, except for the occasional shake of the head and “that son of mine.” She quickly found out he hadn’t applied to any colleges at all and had been deliberately cut from the trip as punishment. Steve didn’t come the following year or the one after that, whilst her feelings towards him were complicated it wasn’t the same without him. The next few summers were less eventful: she’d get through her college summer reading, hang out with Margo and her friends and even finally learn how to surf.

However, this year due to how consuming her job was she doubted she’d even manage any break. She wearily rubbed at her eyes, wishing the words would come to her. Her phone thankfully began to ring and she picked it up to take the call. “Hello?”

“Hi hunny.”

“Hi Vivienne.” She said pleasantly surprised.

“I wanted to know if you’re coming up to the Vineyard for my 50th birthday? It’s on Saturday July 15th,  Your mom and dad and everyone’s gonna be there.”

She wondered who everyone was.

“I’m sorry I really wish I could but I’m so tied up at work right now.” She sighed.

 “You’re going to work yourself to the bone. Do you not have any time off you can take.”

“I have some…I just don’t know how my boss would feel.”

“Just find out and let me know.” Vivienne told her kindly. “And remember to have fun, you’re only 23 once!”

 “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind!”

“It’s late I’ll let you get to bed star journalist.”

She let out a tired laugh. “Not quite yet.”

“Keep trying sweetie and it’ll pay off, goodnight.”

She really hoped it would too.

“Night.” She replied putting down the phone.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

She spun her conversation with Vivienne over in her head for the next couple weeks. Vivienne had been like a second mother to her growing up and although she’d never admit it, it’d devastate her if (Name) didn’t come. She explained the situation to her boss who admittedly had more empathy than she’d given him credit for, he gave her a week off, going as far to comment that she was a hard worker and everyone needed a vacation. She supposed her hard work had paid off, well sort of.

There she was on Sunday July 9th climbing out of a taxi suitcase in hand. Knowing who was also possibly staying in the house made her slow the walk down the drive way to the front door. She rung the doorbell and thankfully it was Vivienne that answered. In a state of excitement Vivienne made her abandon the suitcase in the hallway and come straight out to the patio where dinner had just been served.

“Look who’s finally here!” Vivienne exclaimed.

Clyde gave her a polite smile and her parents delighted embraced her. Her stomach dropped when the person she’d dreaded seeing appeared.

Steve stood blinking at her for a few seconds. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She said back stiffly.

He looked a little older and if he had been cute before he was now infuriatingly handsome.

They took their seats and didn’t interact for the rest of the meal.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Monday July 10th

Early the next morning she woke up early to go surfing. After dinner Steve had disappeared leaving her to be fussed over by everyone else. When she’d gone to bed she’d heard his bedroom click shut, then that was it. He didn’t even bother playing any music to wind her up.

She surfed a few good waves before deciding to take a break, as she came out of the water wet suit half off, she noticed another person further out. She cupped her palm over her eyes to watch them in the morning light. The person caught an impressive wave and she had to give it to them that they were pretty good. They submerged from the water and swam back to shore. She stopped watching them and instead looked out to sea, the water lapping around her ankles. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the person was walking towards her. And on closer inspection that the person was Steve. The universe she decided was just plain mean.

 “Morning.” She faltered.

 “I didn’t realise you surfed.”

“I learnt a while back.” She explained showing him the board.

 “That’s cool.”

It felt like they were acting out a script written by aliens. She’d always known all the things she wanted to say to him if she ever saw him again, but now her mind had gone blank.

He push his wet hair away from his face, like her his suit was also around his waist giving her view of his lean muscular torso. She caught him very briefly glance at her chest, his face flushed. Her heart sped up, it was seriously unfair how much he clearly still affected her.

“I feel I should be upfront with you. I know that a lot has happened between us but I think for the sake of your mum, for the next week I’m here we should try be civil.” She suggested.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He agreed and paused. “I just wanted to say that despite everything, it’s really good to see you, seriously.”

She didn’t quite know how to respond, but she knew in that moment she felt the same.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go shower but I’ll see you there.”

Her throat constricted. “Excuse me?”

 “I-I meant I’m gonna shower and then I’ll see you back at the house separately to being in the shower. You won’t obviously be in the shower with me..”

As soon as he said this her mind went to exactly that, she closed her eyes for a moment to block out the indecent image.

“Have a good shower...”

“Yep will do.” He said quickly brushing straight past her.

She wished she’d had at least a few hours away from him to shake off the embarrassment of the morning, but that afternoon she found herself on a hike, the parents at the front and her and Steve stuck at the back. She’d kept as much as distance as possible without drawing attention.

“I don’t have the plague y’know.” Steve joked.

She slowed down a little so she ended up walking next to him. “That’s what someone with the plague would say.”

“Would you rather possibly catch a deadly disease or go up there and be asked what your doing with your life?” Steve asked gesturing to where their parents were walking.

The way he was cracking jokes with her was starting to ware down her defences.

“Please don’t.” She sighed. “I’ve already been questioned several times, on when I’m ‘going to get serious’. As if being the assistant to the editor of a prominent magazine isn’t a real job.”

“I’ll do you one better, my dad still hasn’t processed that I’m majoring in graphic design.” Steve dryly told her. “I think he had hopes I would get some kind of business degree and valiantly take over his company.”

 “I know it’s long overdue but congratulations on getting into college.”

 He smiled a little at her. “Thanks.”

On the horizon was Edgartown, the largest town on Martha’s Vineyard.

“Wanna ditch them?” Steve asked her.

She wasn’t sure being alone with him was the best idea but then again she wasn’t sure how much more she could take of endlessly hiking.

“Sure.” She gingerly replied.

“We’re gonna go hang out in town, we’ll meet you guys back at the house later.” Steve called out to their parents.

They all stopped and looked at both and her Steve in surprise.

“You’re going to spend time together?” Her mum said gesturing to them.

“Yes.” She said.

“You’ll be alone, just the two of you hanging out.”

She stood up straighter. “Yes, yes we are.”

Her mum and dad exchanged a look of confusion. Clyde stared at them blankly.

Vivienne on the other hand was delighted. “Have a lovely time kids! Call the house later if you’re not gonna be back for dinner.”

“Of course they’ll be back for dinner.” Clyde interjected.

 “We might not be.” Steve said.

Clyde frowned. “We have a reservations with the Smiths at the country club, their boy Daniel will be there, he’s just graduated from Princeton.”

“And the relevance of that is?” Steve asked flatly.

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you Steven.”

“Clyde, I think he can miss one dinner.” Vivienne calmly told her husband.

Clyde threw up his hands before walking on ahead. Vivienne didn’t bother to follow and instead walked with (Name’s) parents.

Steve glared at his dad. “Come on let’s go.” He told her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

There was a market open when they arrived in Edgartown, their hands accidentally brushed sending a sparking sensation across her skin. He glanced at her, she looked away.

“Anywhere you like the look of?” He asked.

“How about over there.” She replied pointing to a cute jewellery stall.

She poured over the selection, the vendor was busy having a conversation with another customer.

She nudged Steve. “I bet that’d look great on me.” She said lowering her voice.

Steve held a chunky skull rung. “You mean this?”

“Obviously.”

He passed it to her and she tried it on, they both tilted their heads inspecting it.

Steve smirked. “It kind of looks like my dad.”

The tension from earlier was eased.

She laughed lightly.  “Should we get it for him?”

“That depends,” Steve pretended to think, “on how deeply you value your life.”

She nodded. “Quite a bit actually, I’d rather not end up like this ring.”

She took off the ring and placed back on the table. She then noticed a necklace with a gold chain and blue pendant. She delicately lifted it, the gem twinkling in the light.

“This reminds me of those bracelets we used to have as kids.” She said transfixed by the necklace.

Steve came closer to her and picked up the pendant in admiration. “Unlike those bracelets this probably has more value than some plastic.”

“I liked those bracelets.” She said defensively.

He smiled and shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t like them. Considering they cost a dollar each they were pretty cool.”

She wondered if he’d actually kept his bracelet, hers was in her bedside draw back at the house. She’d taken it off after he’d stopped wearing his and it’d been wedged into a dark corner ever since. They were so close she could make out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Growing flustered she moved back from him adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

The vendor a woman of about their age, gazed adoringly at them. “I’m sorry but I just have to say what a cute couple you guys make.” She gushed.

Both her and Steve glanced each other a little alarmed.

 “No no, we’re not a couple, he’s a uh” She searched for a word. “Friend? Yeah, a friend.”

“My bad.” Said the vendor apologetically, she then gave Steve a coy look. “In that case-“

“He’s not interested.” She blurted out, the Vendor looked disappointed.

 (Name) put the necklace back, Steve raised his brows at her as they both walked away. “How do you know I wasn’t interested?”

“Well, were you?” She asked point blank.

“No, but I might’ve been.”

 “Trust me I saved you back there! Do you really want to go out with someone that flirts so brazenly with customers?”

He grinned at her. “What’s wrong with flirting?”

“There’s nothing wrong with flirting, I’m the last person to judge, but just don’t put customers in a position like that.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Right.”

Before she could navigate the rest of the conversation, a saviour came in the form of Margo. Her friend spotted them and excitedly weaved through the crowds.

(Name) gave her a hug. “I thought it wasn’t meant to be seeing you until tomorrow?”

“I felt like getting out the house.” Margo explained, she then noticed Steve. “It’s been a hot second Harrington, how are you? Still using that Farrah Fawcett hair spray.”

Steve looked to (Name) in silent outrage, Margo laughed quietly into the back of her hand.

“You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone.” He fumed.

“In all fairness to me, I didn’t think she’d tell you to your face.” She sheepishly said.

“Margo do not tell anyone.” Steve said firmly.

Margo threw an arm around (Name’s) shoulder. “If you buy us iced coffee right now, I won’t. Deal?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Deal, but if you break it, I’ll literally kill you both.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When Steve was in the line buying their coffee Margo pulled her aside.

“What on earth is happening?! The last time you were both here one moment you were fighting then the next nearly kissing then not talking, I’m just in shock how you can be so normal around him?” Margo said.

“He apologised to me and we both on moved, there’s nothing more to it.”

“You’re obviously still angry though?”

“Yeah of course I am!”

“Then talk to him.”

She shook her head. “It would just complicate things, that’s way too messy of a thing to do when I’m only here until the end of the week. Me and him aren’t friends we’re being civil, this trip is about giving his mum a really great birthday, not making it all about old teenage drama.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“Yes.”

Margo narrowed her eyes. “Mhm.”

Steve returned with the ice coffees. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good.” She said voice a little too high pitched to be convincing. “Come on let’s go check out the rest of the stalls.���

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Tuesday July 11th

“I can’t see anything.” Vivienne tutted, adjusting her binoculars and leaning further over the rail of the boat.

 “Mom be careful, or you’ll fall off the boat and be swallowed by a whale.” He joked.

Vivienne leant away from the edge. “If they make appearance.”

Today’s activity was whale watching, Martha’s Vineyard only offered private whale watching tours meaning it didn’t come cheap. There had been a polite argument between both her father and Clyde over who should pay, Clyde of course won, it was less about generosity and more about yet another display of wealth.

(Name) was sat at the small table and chair set, a bottle of prosecco in the centre, everyone but Vivienne had helped themselves. No one had mentioned it but so far on the trip she hadn’t seen the woman touch a single drop of alcohol.

“Darling when are we going to talk about it?” Her mum suddenly asked.

She took a sip of prosecco. “About what?”

“About what on earth you’re doing with your life!”

She groaned. “Do we have to do this now?”

“When else are we going to talk about it? Every time I bring it up you won’t talk about it.”

She set her glass down. “What is so bad about my life that you can’t leave alone?”

Her mother frowned. “The fact that after a year you’re still an assistant. An assistant! You were meant for such better things than this. You should’ve gone into law like me and dad, you’ve always had the knack for it, it’s not too late.”

She wished a whale would swallow her.

“I don’t want to do law, as I’ve told you so many times. And I’m an assistant to the editor of a respected publication, I could get promoted any day now.”

“I can’t wait to have this same conversation in another year.” Her mum sniffed.

She got up from the table. “You know what mum be disappointed in me see if I care.”

She went to the other end of the boat, her arms resting on the railing as she watched the propellors twirl through the water.

“You okay?” Steve asked coming to join her.

“I just wish my parents could be proud of me.” She admitted, lowering her eyes.

Steve exhaled heavily “Join the club.”

 “Vivienne’s proud of you, there’s no doubt about that.” She looked at him. “Did she send you?”

He shook his head. “No, no one overheard the conversation. I saw you leave looking upset, figured something was up.”

This made her chest tighten. “Oh, well that’s nice of you, thanks.”

 “I actually think your job sounds pretty great by the way, I always knew you’d end up doing something with your writing.”

He leant against the railing their arms brushing, but this time she didn’t move away.

 “My job is great-amazing even, but I haven’t written anything in a year.”

“A year?” He said in surprise.

 “Yeah, not good right? When I’m at work I’m always busy and when I’m not I’m too exhausted to even think about writing.” She sighed. “Enough about me, let’s hear about college.”

 “After I got rejected from basically every school I applied to-“

 “I thought you didn’t apply to any schools?!”

“I lied to my parents, because I was embarrassed that I was too stupid to get in anywhere.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, you’re not stupid you never were.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back at him. “Anytime.”

He glanced down to her hand that was still on his shoulder.

“Sorry.” She said her hand falling away.

His lips parted as he looked at her for a moment.

“You can carry on with your story.” She said shyly.

“Yeah, right.” He laughed nervously, springing back to life. “So, I went to a local community college to get some extra credits, 2 years later I applied to Purdue-the top college in Indianna and I’ve been there ever since.”

Her heart swelled with how proud she was of him.

“And why graphic design as your major and mathematics as a minor?”

 “I really want to get into designing video games, the mathematics part is so I can learn coding.”

She dramatically lowered her sunglasses. “Steven are you a-nerd?”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed.

“I’m going to spread salacious gossip about you now.” She teased.

He snorted. “Then maybe I’ll have to tell people that you were so scared of the exorcist you slept with a night light until you were 13. I think we’re at a stalemate.”

 “You’ve got me there!” She agreed. “But seriously I’m glad you’ve found something you’re passionate about.”

“I used to love going to the arcade growing up, especially when the games had those like animated segments. I like the idea that you can take someone on a journey, where they have control over whether they win or not. If you’d seen the things I have, you’d want a few more wins in life.” Steve explained, his smile fading she wondered what he was talking about but didn’t press him.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Well, I think your future job sounds pretty great.” She said repeating his own words.

He bumped her shoulder back. “I promise to remember you when I’m rich and famous.”

She tutted. “And there’s that infamous ego, just when we were having a nice moment.”

“Careful I might feed you to the whales.”

“If we ever see any.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

  Wednesday July 12th

After the boat trip she’d gone to hang out at Margo’s, in typical fashion her friend pried her for information about Steve. (Name) had relayed their conversation on the boat.

“I think he’s still got feelings for you.” Margo said.

She shook her head. “There’s no way.”

Margo raised a brow. “I don’t know he was ready to threw away his entire relationship for you.”

“That was a long time ago, he was 17 in his first real relationship, he was probably just confused.”

“Then why is he acting so friendly with you now? In fact why are you acting so friendly with him? You like him don’t you! And don’t give me the it’s because we’re being civil crap.”

“I think he’s just missed me and is just happy to see me, despite what we’ve gone through. I feel the same, even if it’s still complicated with him.” (Name) confessed.

“I’m going out with some friends Friday night you guys should both come and I can assess the vibe.” Margo said.

“Assess away, but you’re going to come up empty handed.” She warned.

Following the whale watching, Vivienne had taken her, Steve and her mum to a painting class.

She leant over to Steve and whispered. “Do you think we’re going to have to paint a naked person?”

“If we do, I’m leaving.” He whispered back.

Thankfully there was no nudity and it was instead a bowl of fruit. After half an hour of painting her canvas resembled blobs of colour rather than any object.

“There’s a reason I’m a writer and not an artist.” She joked, then peered at Steve’s canvas. “Wow.”

He smirked. “There’s a reason I’m an artist and not a writer.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

They all arrived back at the house in high spirits and at dinner talked animatedly about the painting class.

“Your son’s a natural Clyde, that graphic design major is paying off.” Her mum said.

“Could you draw me?” Her dad asked Steve.

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah probably.”

 “I’ve always wanted a hand drawn picture of myself.” Her dad said.

Her mum scoffed. “We can hang it up on the wall like Henry the 8th.”

 “I’ll add a crown in too free of charge.” Steve said cheekily, this made her dad chuckle.

He was the exact kind of guy her parents would love for her to bring home. She stopped eating when she realised what she’d thought.

“Don’t encourage him.” Clyde said.

“What’s that supposed to mean dad?” Steve immediately asked.

“That this whole art obsession, is just a phase. I wouldn’t mind if you switched mathematics to your major.”

Steve carried on eating. “No, I like what I’m doing.”

“I was able to accept that you let basketball and football go by the way side and I made peace with the fact that for two years you didn’t bother to apply for college. Then you did go to college and it wasn’t even an ivy league. But if you’re as good at maths as you claim then get a real qualification in it and come work for me after graduation next year.” Clyde implored.

Steve finally looked at his dad. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to live my life exactly like you, that I’m my own person? Business doesn’t interest me, but graphic design does.”

“I’m done trying to guide you, be a disappointment for all I care.” Clyde said bitterly.

“Clyde, I think that’s enough.” Vivienne snapped, everyone went still usually she wasn’t so assertive with him.

“Look at you putting me in my place.” Clyde mocked taking a swig of his wine.

Vivienne glowered at him, she briefly glanced at the bottle of wine but instead drunk her water.

As if by instinct (Name) gently took Steve’s hand under the table. He didn’t look at her but he squeezed her hand back in thanks.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Later that evening she knocked on his bedroom door.

“Come to tell me to turn my music down?” He joked, but the sadness in his eyes gave him away.

“No, I just wanted to see if you were okay?” She asked.

He waved a hand. “That was a regular Wednesday for my dad.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to-“

“I’m fine, I promise.” He told her softly, she nodded knowing when to pick her battles.

“Did you want to go out Friday night with me and Margo?” She asked.

He nodded and managed a smile. “Yeah actually, I’d love to.”

The way he was casually leaning against the door frame and smiling so easily at her, made her head swim. This was the exact moment she realised.

 “Nice.” She smiled bashfully. “I’ll let you get back to whatever guy thing you were doing.”

She paused aware of how it sounded, he stifled a laugh.

“Not like that obviously! Not that it’s anything to be ashamed of if you do or don’t-“ She stopped and clapped her hands together. “I’m just going to go to bed, goodnight.”

Once she was safely in her bedroom she buried her burning face in her hands. It was possible that Margo was nearly right, at least about her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Thursday July 13th

When she woke up the next morning the house was eerily quiet. She went to check the patio that was next to the pool and found it to be devoid of life.

“They’ve gone to some wine tasting festival.”

She jumped out of her skin, Steve sat at the outside table eating cereal.

She put a hand to her chest. “You nearly sent me into cardiac fucking arrest.”

He smirked at her. “Need me to grab my defibrillator?”

She playfully rolled her eyes, then remembered their conversation and her own realisation from the night before. She sat in the furthest chair away from him, he looked a little confused but moved past it.

“What should we do?” Steve asked her.

“We?” She asked intrigued.

“If you feel that way, then never mind.” He said pretending to take offense.

She grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

That was how she found herself surfing competitively against Steve, when he got knocked off by a particularly large wave she laughed so hard her stomach hurt. After a while they sat by the shore to rest.

“I’ve missed being here.” He told her.

“This view never gets old.” She agreed.

He pointed to himself. “You mean this view?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She chuckled splashing some water at him, he grinned at her.

“I’m glad we get to hangout like this again, I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She found herself saying.

His face became more serious. “I’m really sorry about what happened 6 years ago, about everything. I’m sorry for ditching you when we were kids and then ignoring you. I was just young and immature, I wanted as dumb as it sounds for other people to see me as one of the guys.”

Her eyes widened hardly believing this conversation was finally happening.

“And having a female friend got in the way of that?”

He shook his head. “No, it was that with you I could share things I couldn’t with anyone else. You made me vulnerable in a way that my dad taught me to be ashamed of, that it was bad if some sort of weakness could be sensed in me. I already struggled in school I didn’t want another reason to not fit in.”

“And unfortunately, our friendship was at the cost of that.” She said quietly.

 “I was the literal worst.” He laughed sadly. “I hope you can forgive me, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

She exhaled heavily. “I won’t deny that I’ve spent the past few years so fucking angry with you, but equally and I guess being older gives you more perspective, we were just kids. You made mistakes, I did too. No one is perfect and I think it’s unfair to go your whole life tying yourself in knots because of some shit you did as a teenager.” She smiled at him. “I’ll say it right now, I forgive you.”

He took her hand in his and threaded his fingers through hers. “You’re too good for me, you always were.”

Her heart sped up as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

 What she was starting to feel for him was so enormous it frightened her, she suspected it was possible he may feel the same. Even though he’d changed and she cared about him so much, she didn’t fully trust that he wouldn’t hurt her again. It was safer to keep her feelings to herself and hope they would return to their platonic nature.

The wind had picked up and the waves were getting bigger some people were starting to swim in. She pulled her hand out of his and reached for her surf board.

“I’m going to try my luck.”

“They’re pretty high are you sure it’s safe?”

 “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She said warmly.

He let her go, clearly knowing it was pointless to try stop her.

The first wave wasn’t too bad and the second was a little tricky, but then came the third. The water was growing choppier by the second, she heard the life guard blow their whistle. She’d ride this one then go back to shore she thought. The wave crashed over her, sucking her into its’ depths, she fought to swim to the surface as she was thrown about underwater.

She came to the surface gasping for air and barely made it to the sand before she was lying on her back exhausted. A small crowd of people gathered around her.

“Miss, are you alright?” The life guard who was barely 16 asked her.

“Sorry excuse me.” A voice said coming through the crowd, Steve appeared at her side. “Hey it’s me.”

He helped her stand, as she tried to walk a stinging pain went through her leg. The crowd cleared for them as they started to walk away.

“Ow.” She hissed.

“What is it?” He fretted.

She panted. “I think I did something to my leg.”

“Are you able to take your wet suit off?”

The idea of having to bend to peel off the clinging material seemed impossible in that moment.

She shook her head.

“Want me to?” He suggested.

She hesitated, this was the last thing she should let him do as it would infiltrate her every waking thought. But she had no other choice.

“Go for it.” She said hoarsely.

He knelt down and start to pull down the wet suit to reveal her bikini, although he’d seen her in one before she’d never felt so exposed in front of him. He helped her step out of the wet suit.

 She peered down, there was a cut just above her knee.

Steve delicately touched the skin just above the cut. “It doesn’t look deep enough to need stiches but it’s gonna need to be cleaned.” He looked up at her.

There was something about seeing him knelt down gazing up at her that made her shiver.

He passed her the wet suit she held it to her chest a little flustered.

“Ready?” Steve said putting his arm around her shoulder.

 She nodded. “Yeah.”

She barely even made it one step. “No this isn’t happening. You’re just going to have to leave me, save yourself.” She gasped out.

“I’ve got an idea, put your arms around my neck.”

She did as he asked. “I’m not sure how this is help-woah.” With total ease he lifted her up into arms and carried her down the beach.

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.” She joked.

He let out a tired laugh. “Only you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Steve set her down on the kitchen counter and searched in the cupboard for the first aid kit.

He bought it over to where she was sat. “You’re lucky my mom’s got like five of these lying around.”

“You know I can do it myself, you’ve done more than enough for one day!”

He left the first aid kit next to her, the cut was at an awkward angle. She tried to lean forward to inspect her leg and nearly went toppling off the counter.  “Ok maybe you can do a little more.” 

He let out a soft huff of amusement.

He poured some disinfectant onto some cotton wood and stood between her legs as he dabbed at the cut, she winced.

“Sorry.” He muttered, then placed a large plaster over the cut. “Done.”

His hands came to rest on the counter either side of her. “How are you feeling?”

He smelt like aftershave and saltwater, it was overwhelming. “Better.” She murmured.

His vision flickered to her lips, if she tilted her head just a little more she’d be kissing him. She leant forward and instead placed a hand on his check quickly kissed it. When she pulled back she noticed a faint blush on his face.

“Thank you for taking care of me I really do appreciate but I think I need to go have a lie down.” She told him, he moved back so she could slide down off the counter top.

He touched where her lips had been. “Yeah see you later.” He said, staring after her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Friday July 14th

“Mum have you seen my blue dress anywhere?”

“Did you not put it in your laundry basket?” Her mum asked.

“I could’ve sworn I did, maybe I left it in the dryer.” She deduced. “Do you know who dried their clothes after me?”

“I think it was Steve.”

She went to knock on his door but there no answer, she tried again, nothing. She called his name but there was only silence. He was probably somewhere else in the house. She carefully pushed his door and to her delight saw the laundry basket on his bed. That was when she heard the sound of running water being turned off, he was in the god damn bathroom.

“Shit.” She whispered rummaging through his laundry, she had to get out fast.

The bathroom door opened, time almost slow down as she looked over to see him stood there with only a towel hanging dangerously low around his waist.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” She screeched looking away.

“Why are you in my room?!” He asked the pitch rising.

She found the blue dress and grabbed it.

She shielded her eyes as she held up the dress. “I came for this but I’ll uh leave you now, sorry again.” She hurried out the room.

Once in the safety of her room she begun to pace the floor as her mind replayed the events of the past week. When they’d met that first morning on the beach, the necklace at the market, the way he’d look at her on the boat, their conversation by the shore when he’d held her hand, how he’d carried in his arms, how he’d glanced to her lips after dressing her injury and now when she’d seen him in a complete near state of undress.

She was nervous of going out that evening, she was afraid to do something she might regret. She’d always considered herself to have a good handle on most situations, but in the face of the inevitable did she have any control?

A couple hours later she’d managed to compose herself and was sat in a taxi on the way to meet Margo at the bar. She’d been unable to look Steve in the eye.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t think anyone was in your bedroom.”

 “It’s okay, it wasn’t a big deal.” He told her kindly.

She pat his arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself I didn’t see much but it certainly was a big-“

She saw the mild shock on his face. “Oh you meant the situation.” She let her hands fall into her lap.

Tonight was going to be a challenge.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Anyway, what are Margo’s friends like.” He said changing the subject.

“They’re nice, I think you met them that time at the beach bonfire back when we were 17.”

“I remember that.” He wrinkled his nose. “That’s when Tommy went streaking.”

“If it helps he didn’t have a big deal.” She nervously joked and to her relief after a few seconds he actually laughed.

“So you and Steve? I think I was right.” Margo slyly said whilst they were waiting for their drinks at the bar.

She nodded. “Yeah you were spot on, I like him.”

Margo slapped (Name’s) shoulder. “I fucking knew you liked him!”

“Keep your voice!” She pleaded. “He doesn’t know I have feelings for him and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Why though? He obviously likes you.”

 “I’m going back to New York in two days and he’ll be back in Indiana soon.”

“It doesn’t need to be anything serious. You work your ass off all the time why not have some fun for once?” Margo cackled.

 “It would be a very very bad idea, because I’d want it to be more than just some fling. If we hook up, I’m not getting over that, it’ll really hurt me.”

 “Maybe he doesn’t want to just hook up?”

“He’s a 23 year old guy Margo that’s all they want to do. He’s different now sure, I just don’t think he’s so different that he’d do long distance.”

Margo frowned. “All I’m saying is you’re never going to know what he wants if you’re over here speculating with me, talk to him and go from there.”

She tugged at her hair. “I just don’t know.”

“Talk to him tomorrow but enjoy tonight.” Margo warmly said. “Come on let’s take the shots back to the table.”

When they were back at the table, Steve was immersed in conversation with one of Margo’s friends.

“We come back baring shots!” Margo exclaimed, as they both set the small glasses out on the table.

“Cheers.” She said clinking her glass to Steve’s.

“Cheers.” He replied knocking back the shot.

The shot burnt her throat and warmed her body, she’d already been buzzed before but she knew it’d hit her in a few minutes.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

An hour and 2 more shots later she was past tipsy, so was everyone else.

She stared up at him, swaying slightly.

“What?” He asked amused.

“You’re just so cute.” She admitted, booping his nose.

“Thank you?” He laughed, he was clearly little more sober than her.

She fisted the material of his shirt. “You just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“How stuck in my head I get about you, it drives me crazy. I wish you knew how much I-“ She stopped talking.

“How much you what?” He asked.

New music started.

“Oh my god I love this song!” She cried grabbing his wrist. “Let’s go dance.”

She started to lead him away. “Did you not wanna finish your sentence?”

She couldn’t recall what she’d said.

“We’ll dance first then you can tell me what it is I have to tell you.” She slurred.

Margo gave her a thumbs up, she gave a thumbs up back not really understanding why.

“Spin me around!” She told him, he chuckled twirling her.

“Now it’s your turn.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“Less talking more spinning.” She scolded and twirled her 6 foot friend around. “Wasn’t that fun!”

 “Suprisingly, yeah.” He grinned at her. “I’ve really liked hanging out with you this week.”

She beamed. “Me too.”

“I like a lot about you.” He confessed. “I like you in a way that’s different than I feel with other people.”

She didn’t say anything her head was getting dizzy from all the dancing and drink.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” He asked.

Before she could have a chance to respond she could feel herself stumbling over, Steve caught her and she started giggling.

“I’m so sorry I am so drunk right now!” She snorted

He looked at her disappointed. “Let’s get you home.”

He guided her through the dance floor and to where their table was.

“Margo I’m gonna take her home.” Steve said, one arm around her.

“Good plan.” She smiled.

She hugged Margo. “Margo you’re the best, you’re such a good friend.”

Margo patted her on the back. “You’re a great friend too!” She passed her back to Steve. “Safe journey back guys.”

As they left the bar, they ran into a familiar face. It was Tyler.

“Look who it is.” (Name) cheered holding her hand up for him to high five.

Tyler gave her a weak high five and looked to Steve. “Is she-“

“A bit drunk, yes.” Steve replied curtly, the bromance between them was obviously gone.

“Oh wait I just remembered that I don’t like you.” She lightly slapped Tyler’s arm.

As they walked away she called over her shoulder. “Don’t go tricking anyone into truth or dare or I’ll find you!” She sung.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When they returned home everyone was asleep, he took her up to her bedroom. She sat on her bed swaying her legs, he came back in with a glass water. “Drink all of this okay?”

“Yes mum.” She slurred gulping down the water.

When she was done she gave the glass to Steve, she pat the space on the bed next to her. “Come sit here.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep?” He suggested.

She shook her head. “Later, first sit.”

He took a seat next to her, even in her uninhibited state she could acknowledge how good he looked, his hair was dishevelled and shirt a little open.

She turned to face him. “What made you change so much?” She bluntly asked.

“I finally got a skin care routine-“

“No not that, why are you not in some college fraternity called delta zeta gamma ray.”

 “Sadly Purdue doesn’t have a fraternity with that name.”

She poked him in the chest. “Answer the question!”

He chuckled. “I just like teasing you.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “The reason I changed was because of the friends I made, real friends. Once I graduated high school all of the stuff that was important, just stopped. And I realised that there were people who liked me as I was, not just because I had great hair or was on the basketball team. For the first time since being friends with you I had people on my side.”

“I’m so happy for you. You seriously deserve to have people like that in your life.” Her mouth curved up. “Are you still with that girl?”

“You mean Nancy? God no, we broke up ages ago, we’re good friends now. She actually just got engaged.”

 “Good for her, that’s nice.”

“Engaged to the guy she left me for.”

She grit her teeth. “Less nice.”

He shrugged. “He’s a decent guy and I have to say they make way more sense than me and her ever did.”

 “Wow marriage, I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet.” She huffed.

“Never?”

“No sir.”

He moved a little closer. “Is there anyone at the moment?”

“Sort of, but can you keep a secret?” She hiccupped.

“Yes, yeah I can.”

She beckoned him forward. “Come closer so I can tell you.”

When he was close enough she placed both hands in his face and went to lean in to kiss him, her lips barely grazed his before he was pulling back from her.

The rejection stung her, she got off the bed. “Oh god why did I do that?” She groaned.

He stood up too. “It’s fine really!”

She shut her eyes. “It’s not, that was so incredibly dumb, I shouldn’t have tried to kiss someone who doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“I-I do.” He confessed.

She opened her eyes. “You do?”

His hand came to cup the side of her face.  “It’s not a no, it’s a no right now. I don’t wanna kiss you when you’re drunk.”

There were butterflies in her stomach. “Oh okay.”

His thumb traced her cheek bone. “Tomorrow I’ve gotta help my mum set up for the party but later on why don’t we finally talk, how does that sound?”

She smiled shyly. “Sounds good.”

He pressed a kissed to her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

As soon as he left her bedroom she was fast asleep.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Saturday July 15th

She spent the entire morning with a throbbing head ache curled up in bed. When she’d made herself semi-presentable she left her room to get some lunch. Her memory was blurry and everything after leaving the bar was totally blank.

“Hey.” Steve said coming into the kitchen holding a box of wine glasses.

“Hi.” She replied.

He put down the box and came over to her pressing a kiss to her cheek, she stepped back and touched where he’d been.

“Why did you do that?” She asked perplexed.

 “Do you not remember last night?..”

 “I don’t remember much at all, I can’t remember even getting home.”

His shoulders dropped. “So you don’t know what happened.”

“Wait what happened?!”

Last night began to return to her.

She put a hand over her mouth as it hit her. “I tried to kiss you!”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah you did.”

Then she recalled what he’d said after.

Her eyes widened. “And you wanted to kiss me, but didn’t want to do when I was drunk..”

“And if I did that what do you think that means?” He carefully asked, waiting for her to put the pieces together.

“That you like me.” She breathed.

 “I really like you. And I think that maybe- there’s part of you that feels the same?”

She couldn’t hide from it anymore.

“Steve, I won’t deny that there’s things I’ve felt for you this week that go beyond just friendship but,” She sighed, “I’m going back to New York tomorrow and you’ll be back at college in a few weeks. There’s no point starting anything now.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about the distance, I want to try.”

“You might not care about the distance at first but eventually it’ll become a problem.”

“No it won’t.”

“But it will!” She insisted. “You’re a young good-looking guy still at college, you don’t want to long distance, you should be hooking up with the cute girl in that one lecture who keeps smiling at you. Trust me I’m saving you the pain.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t tell me what I want. I don’t want some meaningless fling with someone I barely know, I want you.”

“Until the better option comes around.” She blurted out.

 “There is no better option there’s only you!”

 “It’s a bad idea, I’m sorry but-no.”

He looked away from her his jaw clenched.

She put a hand on his arm to try to turn him towards her. “Hey, hey Steve, come on this doesn’t need to be a sad thing, I’m just trying to be practical.” She said gently.

He moved away from her, too angry to even look in her direction.

“Why do you keep doing that?” He snapped. “Why do you keep pulling away from me every time we get the slightest bit close to something happening. You aren’t trying to protect me, you’re trying to protect yourself.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” She exclaimed.

“I know I did bad things but I’m getting really tired of having to prove to you and to everyone just how much I’ve changed.” He finally looked at her, eyes glossy with unshed tears, her chest ached. “What is so fucking wrong with me that people can’t love me?! I’m not a monster, I’m a person.” He said voice cracking.

She felt like someone had sawed through her heart. “I didn’t know you felt that way.” She said trembling.

Tears slipped down his face, he wiped at his eyes. “Well, you wouldn’t would you, no one would.” He inhaled shakily.

He reached into his pocket. “Here.” He said throwing her something.

When she opened her hands, it was none other than the necklace from the market.

She gawped at him “When did you..”

“I was going to give it you tonight, but you may as well have it now.”  He grabbed the box from the counter top and left before she could stop him.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

She sat at her vanity ready for the party. She’d had a lot of time to think about her conversation with Steve and how he had been right about how she felt, she was scared of just how much he could hurt her. But in turn not being together was hurting them both so much more. She delicately touched the pendant of the necklace, her old matching bracelet sat on her wrist. She wanted to sob when she looked at the little golden S.

There was a knock at the door, she hurried to the door in hopes that it was-

“Vivienne hi.” She said.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Vivienne chuckled. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah of course.”

She moved out of the way, then shut her bedroom door. Vivienne perched on the end of her bed and smooth the skirts of her green dress.

“You look gorgeous dear.” Vivienne complimented.

 “Thanks so do you.”

Vivienne crossed her arms and looked at her softly with concern. “We need to talk.”

She sat down next to her apprehensively. “About what?”

“About how insane both you and my son are driving one another, it’s like wuthering heights in here.” Vivienne tutted.

 “How did you figure it out?”

“Mother’s intuition.” She shook her head. “I overheard you both in the kitchen.”

“Oh god you heard all of that?” She groaned.

“You did have quite a heated conversation in the middle of a public space so yes I heard.”

 “Well then I’m sure you know that it’s over before it began.”

“Only if you don’t try sweetie.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of, what if it doesn’t work out?”

 “When you get to my sage age of 50-48 if anyone asks!” She chuckled. “You learn what love is and what it isn’t, sometimes it’s worth the risk. And this is coming from someone who’s only found it for the first time in her adult life.”

She raised her brows. “But you and Mr Harrington..”

“Are getting a divorce. I split up with him sometime ago.”

“Why doesn’t anyone know?”

“Steve does, I told him as soon as it happened. Both Clyde and I wanted to take our time with publicly announcing it. My party will be the last time we’re ‘together’.” She did air quote marks with her fingers.

“Wow.” She said. “Good for you.”

Vivienne put an arm around her.  “It’s wonderful but I can’t be happy until I know that you kids are. What you both have is real and maybe it isn’t going to be easy or it might not last but you both deserve the chance to experience it.”

“I’ve probably ruined any chance of ever having it.” She admitted sadly.

Vivienne gave her a sly grin. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, talk to him I think you’ll be surprised.”

She smiled back weakly. “I’ll try.”

“No more moping.” Vivienne sprung up. “We’ve got a party to enjoy!” She held out her hand pulling (Name) to her feet.

“Who’s this person you’re in love with then?” She asked.

“His name’s Pierre, he’s a French photographer, incredibly cliché I know but he’s a good man, he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” Vivienne told her.

She linked her arm through hers. “You deserve to be happy.”

Vivienne squeezed her arm. “So do you sweetie.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The party was in full swing and she still hadn’t seen Steve, she however had run into Margo and Tyler who had come with their parents.

“Hey guys.” She said approaching them.

“Hey.” Margo replied hugging her whilst Tyler politely smiled.

“Tyler sorry about last night.” She apologised.

Margo snorted. “He told me.”

Tyler huffed. “I probably deserved it, I should be the one apologising to you.”

Tyler paused Margo elbowed him. “You actually have to say it.”

Tyler rolled her eyes and sighed. “(Name) I’m very sorry for being-“ He looked to his sister. “An annoying dick head with shitty hair.”

Margo burst out laughing.

“Did you tell him to say that?” She asked amused.

Tyler nodded grimly. “Yes she did.”

“Apology accepted.” She told Tyler, who finally deflated with relief.

“You guys haven’t seen Steve anywhere have you?” She asked.

“Why do you wanna know? Gonna pick up where you left off at the bar last night.” Margo suggestively said.

“It’s actually about what happened after the bar I need to talk to him, we got in a fight this morning.”

“I think I saw him go the beach.” Tyler said.

She frowned. “The beach?”

Tyler shrugged. “No idea why.”

“I’m going to go speak to him.” She said going to leave.

“Goodluck!” Margo called.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When she was at the beach she saw Steve in the distance smoking alone by the shore, she could just about make him out.

“Steve!” She shouted from down the beach, he immediately looked in her direction.

She started walking but found the gorgeous heels she had chosen kept sinking into the sand.

“Jesus christ.” She hissed and quickly removed the heels letting them dangle from her wrist.

She picked up the skirt of her dress and ran to where he was.

He stubbed out his cigarette when he saw her. “(Name)?”

She stopped running and smiled at him. “Hi.”

He opened his mouth to talk but she stopped him. “Before you say anything I just need to get a few things straightened out.”

He nodded. “Yeah, go for it.”

“It’s my turn to apologise to you. I don’t know where you’re getting this notion from that you’re some unlovable monster because I know for a fact there are people in this life who like you exactly as you are, I should know since I’m one of them. You’re kind and funny and literally one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” His face softened as she spoke. “And I’m so god damn sorry that it’s taking until,” She locked down at her watch and laughed, “14 hours before my flight to tell you that I’m so unbelievably, stupidly, in love with you.” Her chest heaved up and down, a little breathless from the amount she’d just said.

He just blinked at her, dazed.

“This is usually when the other person says something.” She nervously said.

He walked towards her, and was so close that the shoes on her wrist tapped against him. He took them off her wrist and they fell to the floor. He cupped her face and softly pressed his lips to hers. She sighed as his lips moved deliciously against hers. After a few seconds he stopped kissing her.

Her lips tingled from where he’d kissed her. “Yeah, that’s a good answer.” She stammered.

He smiled down at her softly. “I love you too, so much.”

“You were right by the way I was afraid-still am afraid of letting myself get swept up in this.” She gestured between both of them. “It's worth all of the risk.”

“I have a feeling that this might last.” He said warmly.

“I do too.” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry about your parents getting a divorce, by the way. Your mum told me.”

“Don’t be, I’ve never seen her this alive, she doesn’t drink anymore and she’s with someone that actually respects her.”

She shook her head fondly. “Only your mother would end up with a French photographer. Do you like him?”

He nodded. “Yeah I do." He nodded. "As much as I like talking Pierre I’d rather go back to talking about us!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re an us now are we?”

“You’re the one who ran down the beach to confess your love to me.” He scoffed.

“And you’re the one who got my favourite heels sandy.” She jokingly scolded. “Why did you just throw them on the ground.”

He sighed. “Yeah, it felt like sexy at the time, sorry.”

She grinned. “I’m just teasing it was sexy, although you will be buying me a new pair.”

He chuckled. “Shut up.” His eyes dipped down to her neck and he picked up the necklace.

“It’s lovely thank you.” She told him then held up her wrist with the bracelet. “And thank you for this as well.”

He began to laugh she furrowed her brow. “You don’t have to laugh.” She huffed.

“No I’m not I’m not, it’s just funny cause-” He rolled back his sleeve to show his own bracelet.

Her mouth fell open. “I thought you got rid of it.”

He touched it tenderly. “I’d never throw this away.”

She leant up and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Do you wanna go back to the party?” She asked.

“Sure.” He agreed, she held out her hand and he smiled taking it.

“My mouth kind of tastes like smoke now.” She said as they walked down the beach.

“So does mine.”

“You were the one smoking.”

“I could stop but I think you find it too hot.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I also find you quitting even hotter.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Sunday July 16th

2 am

 “There’s something I wanted to ask you.” She said, they were in his bed she was nestled against him, head resting on his bare chest.

He stroked her hair. “Ask away.”

She shifted so her chin was resting on her arm. “When we went back to school that summer after we were 14, I called your house and your dad picked up, I told him to get you to call me. He never passed that message onto you did he?”

 “I didn’t even know you called, so yeah no he didn’t.” He gently caressed her face with his hand. “I would’ve if he’d told me.”

 “I knew you would’ve.”

“I wish I’d made things right with you sooner.” His chest rose and fell in a deep breath, as if letting go of something heavy.

She kissed his jaw. “Let’s just focus on now.”

They looked at each other softly and he smiled at her. “Do you find it crazy that we literally just slept together.”

 “Yeah but in a good way, like this is so amazing there’s no way it can be actually happening.” She laughed.

He laughed too. “Oh it’s happening.”

She gave him a saucy look. “If you come visit me in New York it’ll be happening all the time.”

“You’re such a flirt, I’d almost think you have a crush on me.” He wryly said.

"You know what." She pretended to gasp. “I think I do have a crush on you.”

“No I think you love me.” He teased.

“You’re done.” She sung and put a hand over his mouth.

He said it again but this time it was muffled, she took away her hand.

“I really do love you.” She said genuinely.

“I love you too.” He said softly.

 2 years later: July 16th 1992

“Is this everything?” She asked, as they stood in their new apartment, boxes taking up every inch of space.

“Why, do you have another 10 boxes of clothing?” He teased.

 “I’m sorry that I like to look cute.” She nudged him. “When did you say your friends are coming to stay by the way?”

“The 30th.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah I can’t wait!”

“It’s going to be a lot of fun, I really liked them the first time we met.”

“They loved you, maybe even more than me.” He grinned.

“The only person that loves you more than me are my parents.” She laughed.

Her parents had been over the moon when she’d told them about her and Steve, immediately asking when the wedding would be. Vivienne was delighted but she’d known from the start they’d end up together. As for Clyde, whilst things were still rocky he had actually started to call Steve more and try fix what was broken between them. At Steve’s college graduation she’d thought she’d even nearly seen him cry with pride, when his son has walked across the stage to get his diploma.

He walked towards the window she joined him, the view of New York staring back at them.

“I’m thinking that this would be a great spot for you to do your writing.” He suggested.

 “Oo so true, although I worry the view might distract me, I only just got my own column at work I don’t want to screw it up just yet.”

 “You could never.”

“How’re you feeling about your first day tomorrow?”

“Like I’m going to screw it up.” He huffed.

 “You’ll be fine!”

“God I’m lucky I have you.” He said resting his head on top of hers.

She put her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never stop thinking how lucky we both are to finally have each other.”

PART 2

[idv-sunsxin3]

Hi I love you r99 writing so much and I was wondering if you could do separate Horropedia and Diggers soulmate au fic or hc where both soulmates can see what the other is writing/drawing on their skin, they would be chatting with the reader and they learn that the reader is from a different era like the reader is from the 1990s for Diggers and for Horropedia, they’ll be from the 1970s (it seem like horror films peak from then). The boys finally meet their soulmate when they got either recruited or summon by Vertin. Hopefully this was easy to understand I’m bad at explaining things

Horropedia, Diggers // Soulmates AU

Notes// JSBDHDBDB I love this AU idea, It's pretty cool. I can't stop thinking about it--- also Vertin kinda third-wheeling in this one unintentionally JDFJFBB/lh

___

It's rare to see him believing in the idea of having a soulmate-- being pretty used to enjoying his comfort hobbies by himself when no one is willing to hang out with him. Being absorbed into everything that thrills him in solitude was simply a bliss for him.

But of course, sometimes it can be a bit lonely that he would talk to himself about all the things he wants to ramble about his opinions. Even these ideas he wants to express them to someone about a movie or a novel he start to take fond of it - but no one was there to listen, only him.

Horropedia is very observant, but sometimes, he also happens to be the one to trigger events by accident and takes a moment to realize, which seems funny in my head---

For example, he once realized that he had a lot on his plate and forgot his notepad to write down a to-do list for the day... in order to go on with the day without forgetting the small details, he took out a pen or soft marker before scribbling on his arm with a small handwriting----

That's when you came into the picture - I mean, not entirely, but - yeah🤔

You start to notice your skin getting marked with a writing when you were having a drink at a diner with your friends - no hand nor marker can be seen other than the scribble forming.

'Consent papers to the Foundation... 'IT' movie night... Paperwork for tomorrow... party patroll on Tuesday..  Talk to Vertin...? Who is Vertin?'

Obviously, you don't know anyone who knows this stuff. Or even someone named Vertin- the theory of you knowing what this is being already out of the window.

You didn't honestly know what to do with these scribbles until you got back home- you took out a paper and wrote down what you managed to read from the messy scribble before testing the waters a but; scrubbing a bit of the marker from your arm-

On Horropedia's side, it took a moment to realize something is wrong-- After finishing a task, he was about to cross the first bullet from his list only to see that it's already getting scrubbed off.

He raises an eyebrow in bewilderment before taking out his marker and occupying the empty blank with a tiny doodle of a ghost. (Lol)

You notice that.

Someone is drawing your arm.

A drawing of a ghost??? Is that a ghost drawing on your arm???

'Who are you? A ghost?' You wrote on your arm, wondering if they can see the message.

"Oh- OH."

It's the glasses guy's turn to get shocked--- so it's not him for sure!!! It's... what is this phenomenon???

"Ehm..." He scratched his neck, trying to find what to say before writing. Despite feeling weirded out, he gotta have to try and write back to see if something changes again.

'Call me Horropedia. Who are you exactly?😶'

Oh????

'Horropedia? What an interesting pen name. I'm Y/N.😯'

Horropedia chuckles, you sound silly..- you must confused as he is--

You slowly introduced to each other, still shocked by this strange encounter. Horropedia eventually seems to notice that the situation rings a bell. It's almost as if it comes from some sort of a fictional novel or a movie -

He quickly comes to the library to find a book that describes something similar---- a book about soulmates by fate.

"That's... very cheesy." He grimaced at the title but still reads it anyway (I see that coming/ih)

Once he finds out what this is about, he later wrote to you about it.

Turns out you both write to each other at the same hour, same day of the calendar, maybe even at the same weather - but here's the shocking part... you both don't come from the same decade, nor year to be more specific.

Horropedia finds out that you're from the 70s, and you learned that he's in the 90s. It's a pretty huge era gap even.

You both honestly decided to become friends at first, like pen pals. The thought of being soulmates despite being from different eras gave you two some skepticism. So you both end up writing to each other more often while getting to know each other.

Horropedia is aware that the 70s was infamously known for the making of many iconic horror movies. So, seeing someone who watches them as well makes him eager to yapabout them as he scribbles a lot on his arm like he's texting except he is writing/lh.

He won't spoil you about the future films that would get released after though, he'll be fair about that(unless he did by accident before you knew you were from the past...--).

At some point, you eventually became so close that you both would look forward to writing each other when their hands aren't busy. Even making each other's day by doodling silly doodles of monsters and characters from funny scenes.

Even took some initiative to talk about other kinds of interests... questioms like 'what's your favorite food? What things do you like to do? Would you like to camp someday?' And much more.

It slowly came back to your thoughts about the soulmates. Thinking about them made you feel emotional now, knowing you couldn't get to see your goofy but sweet pen pal with your own eyes.

'Oh, Horropedia... do you think what we have is impossible?'

'In what way impossible?'

'That we can talk like this, but never get to see each other - I won't get to see you... right?'

'I mean, everything can be possible! And even if i say it because i'm really dying to meet you someday-'

'Oh please...- '

'I'm serious, Y/N! I still have faith in us... I think i won't ever give up on this any time sooner, either.

.

.

.

'I don't want to put you on the spot, Y/N, but i just want to ask... would you run away if you ever get to see my face?

'What are you, Leatherface? Michael Myers? 🤨'

'Yeah nah!!!'

{When getting recruited}

It got a bit more gloomy after a few days of not receiving a response from your dear pen pal.

Yet, It was a surprise that you finally met the owner of the certain name you have first seen written on your arm before; Vertin.

You never thought the world and time would be this small to allow you two to cross paths at a bus stop.

"I've heard a couple of things about you from a friend." You remember hearing her say that.

"I- you know him?"

"Mr. Horropedia? Yes. The same man who invited me to investigate an infamous camp known for phemonenon cases once."

"Ah, yes. That does sound like him."

It's confirmed, you really met the "Great Vertin" Horropedia mentioned about.

The thought of finally seeing the face of your pen pal surprisingly made you more nervous than you thought you would be--- you are excited, wondering how would he react wheb he sees you as well after so long-- or did he forgot about you ever since he stopped writing? It may be possible, but who knows.

By the time you both got to the Ark,Vertin was observant enough to notice your worried look, so she lightly place her palm on your hand to give it assuring pats, "It's going to be alright." She calmly says.

It didn't take a while for you to hear multiple voices ringing, hinting that there are multiple people walking around the place and talking to one another.

'It must be the other crew mates.' You internally noted.

The crowd reminded you of the times you used to sneak away from friends' house parties just to have more time to write to Horropedia about night brainrots... It seems you can not run away from social events here anytime soon this time.

Just as you were about to look away with a slightly sad look from the memory, you catch the glimpse of a gloved hand waving to your direction from one of the groups. You look up more to see these mesmerizing hazel eyes of that peron, who slowed his hand to stare at you back.

A tall man with brunette hair, a lower ponytail and light grey sweater , and a golden pin, dark gloves, dark pants, a belt that holds gadgets that can be hardly seen from afar--

And... these x monkeyman glasses he is wearing that decorates his cute face nicely- Why is it ringing you a bell from somewhere?

No noise has been done besides the muffled voices. Vertin started speaking before you get to realize the guy is now walking towards you two.

"Oh, It's time to properly introduce each other." She monotonely says as she turns to look at you before motioning you to the approaching man. "Horropedia, this is -"

"Y/N." Horropedia breaths out as his eyes quickly flicker to you, then Vertin, and then back to you. His face holds multiple emotions that can be hardly read at once. His footsteps only stopped when he was at least 5 feet from you

"Horropedia." Your statement almost sounded like a question, as if wanting to be sure that the man in front of you is the pen pal you have been writing before you can even remember.

"Yes." The man responds as he slowly brushes the front of his hair back, still intrigued by the encounter, "I. It's me...! I- I..."

Everyone in the room stops to watch him, noticing this rare stuttering the well-known horror nerd is displaying. Telling that something is going on.

Horropedia doesn't feel bothered by attention, unlike you--- but being this close to you, seeing you and breathing the same air as right here right now is-

'You know what, screw it-' he said to his mind before suddenly trapping you in a big hug. Making you softly gasp as you feel the soft fabric of his sleeveless cardigan once your hands rest on his torso.

"Oh, Y/N..." Horropedia mutters through your hair as he spills all his no longer secretive longing into his hold on you, "I'm so glad to have met you."

"Me too,,," You whisper back as you slowly lean into the hold, "I miss you..."

"Is that why you haven't responded to me?"

"Oh?"

Horropedia slowly but hesitantly pulls alway from the hug before raising his arm towards you. You were about to ask why until you notice the scribbles that seem new on his arm.

"I've been trying to write to you too, but you stopped responding since for a while---" you explained before a thought crosses your mind, "It stopped working."

"It must be because now that you are both in the same place and time. It doesn't have to function now." Vertin explains, remimding you two that you guys aren't alone and several eyes are watching.

"Eh- Would you mind??? I can continue with my theories on the Halloween movie if you guys want-" The moment Horropedia's straightforwardness comes back, the others start to walk away or mind their own business immediately,

"Sheesh... curious much." He sarcastically says in a teasing manner, wearing a not-so-impressed look before goung back to smiling at you, "Anyway-"

You start to giggle quietly by the event that you just witnessed, making Horropedia look at your face in awe as you try to cover it.

"I saw that!" He starts trapping you into his arms again, the contact becoming more easily adjusted to it.

"No, you're just imagining things,,,;;!!!" You try to pull alway and go for a run, but the way his hold becomes firmer than ever tells you better he has enough strength to drag you down for a moment.

"Don't you dare hide those giggles from me, Y/N!" He laughs lightly as he rubs up your head, "You can't run away from me!"

"Oh, i won't," You reply, "Because i love you."

"What."

"What?"

"Say that again? Plz?" He says as he put his ear closer to you, looking like he is teasing you now.

"..." You only smile quietly at him as you brush 3 dots on his arm, him knowing you would not to repeat but rather use the silent treatment back like you always did when you were writing each other.

"Okay, just kidding! I love you. I love you lots."

"Love you lots?"

"Yes." 😭

"Good, i love you too, and lots."

He doesn't say anything further, yet you can already tell there is a red blush spreading from the tip of his ears.

Vertin looks at the two of you, not looking surprised, yet there is this feeling of delight she is bringing when seeing you reuniting for once.

___

It's interesting. Very interesting discovery.

There was a day when Diggers tried to use henna tattoos on his left harm from hand to shoulder---

You got scared the few minutes you realized your left arm is getting covered by brown flower tattoos. Chill to the touch -

You even tried to come to a friend and talk about the sorcery, but they only remarked a "Oh, nice Henna tattoo."

"Henna tattoos???"

"Yeah, one of those temporary ones. It'll wear off slowly. "

"O. Ohh."

Now you feel a bit silly. But well, you learned something new.

That still doesn't add up to the way you feel this tickling feeling in your skin as more drawings are being scribbled on your arm.

You're not complaining, though. The ghost or whatever entity that is messing with your hand is doing a pretty good job in your opinion--- The art seems carefully done.

Days later, you just got a new phone number for your phone at the local store, but you did not have the heart nor energy to try and get rid of the drawings on your arm nor ruin it.

So, instead, you ended up quickly scribbling your new phone number on your hand before you forget without wasting time on taking the nearest napkin--

And that moment was a huge coincidence.

Diggers was merely taking a leisure time playing with his guitar as he watched grassfields dancing through the wind from the back of his van. The second he looks down to adjust the position of his fingers on the strings, he didn't bat an eye the way he cayches a glimpse of scribbling on his other arm, so he looked up.

.

.

.

He quickly snaps his head down again---

"..Oh?"

A phone number is written on his arm.

....That's... interesting.

'I wonder whose phone number is this.' He asks in his mind.

He took some time to come back to the nearest street where he could find a phone stand. Opening the red glass door before pushing the same numbers from the ones that are on his skin.

.

.

.

No response.

"Mmm..." Diggers arches his brow, does this number not exist here?

But even if so, he finds it strange that its scribble om his arm.

.

.

.

Wait a minute-

"Oh, i see now...!" Diggers mutters as he takes another look at the mark, realizing it. His face is looking as confused until it softens with an eager smile. "About time i get to meet you, soulmate,,!"

It was not weird for him to approach you with messages on his arm after, and it didn't take long to clear up the confusion -

You eventually became more like friends. You are still finding it hard to believe soulmates connected through skin can be possible, but here you are. Writing to someone from the 60s while being in the 90s.

Diggers just happened to know because he has heard from some folks and friends who have common interests.

It wasn't hard to start conversations with someone this friendly and laid back like Diggers. As he is a whole new character in your life.

Diggers eventually grew this trust and confidence to draw a small drawing of his face so you can know how he looks like. He has a lot of time to share things about himself and lots of time to get to know you.

When you responded with a small drawing of you next to his, he couldn't help but squeal and giggle to himself,,,;;;

A few minutes after staring at the drawings, he later put a small heart above them... Now it's your turn to get a heart attack---

{When getting recruited}

"Before you get inside, i want you to meet someone." Vertin tells you as she walks outside, showing a yard that seems to have recently stopped raining.

Underneath a tree, there is a huge blanket with someone laying on top of it, as if taking a nap with a guitar next to it.

As you closely walk to where the familiar person is, you slowly realize who it is.

He looks exactly like the ones in the drawings.

"Diggers..?" You ask as you now start to hurry your steps toward his sleeping form.

The sounds of grass lightly rustling through the footsteps as they approach made the sleeper wake up from his slumber. Taking his time to try and fund his glasses as he notices the shadow of one's upper body hovering him as if they just sat next to him.

"Who is it... Vertin?"

A hand slowly but softly brushes over his face. It's warm, soft, but trembly.

That's not Vertin.

"If you touch me like this, Y/N will not like it;;;" Diggers whines sleepily as his eyes remain heavily close. His hands were trying to gently put the hand away from his face.

"But Diggers... it's me." You giggle quietly.

That's when you finalñy seen his eyes wide open. Almost as wide as the shape of plates.

"...!" He turns his face from his laying position to see your silhouette, looking up and down your figure as if in disbelief.

"This dream... it looks too beautiful to be real."

Oh, this man;;;

"Silly you,,,," you giggle more, remembering the times he wrote you about his sleepless dreams about meeting you. "You're not dreaming this time."

The hipster didn't waste a second to jump and hug you into a bear hug. Not wishing to let go any sooner.

"Y/N,,, my dearest." He trembly says, "I miss you."

"I miss you too.." You say before slowly helping Diggers put his glasses on when you find them, "I'm here to stay now, thanks to that young friend of yours."

This cue for Diggers to notice Vertin, who is now standing from not so far away, smiling before walking away to give the couple some time alone to catch up.

"I gotta have to thank her later."

The male admits before planting a soft kiss on your forehead before cuddling you once more.

"Please stay with me longer..." He whispers to you as if pleading, sounding as if he is about to doze off back to his slumber for a bit.

"If you do the same for me, sure."

"...Always."

[monsterislandbuddies]

Godzilland Mini Notepads (1990s)

[coyotetatertot]

sketches of my A Better World AU version of Tate,, I'll fix em up later and post more sketches n rambles n concepts. I've already got uhhh 1K in notepad about how he's different from my normal verse Tate, his history n relationship with his family and his ambitions. Just gotta clean it up and make it less frothing at the mouth and more coherent. Basically tho he's fishin up in tarns of mtn ranges y'ain't never heard of 🥾🏔️🎣 when he isn't cracking quantum computing with his dad at the institute 💽🥼 or running his own mountaineering equipment company,, here we have uh. 1990s teenage ABW Tate with the first computer he designed on his own and got manufactured w his dad's company 🤗 I'm gonna let him be happy here while I EVISCERATE his normal verse counterpart

[harvardfineartslib]

"Carlos Villa (1936 – 2013) was a Filipino American artist, educator, and curator. He was born in San Francisco, California to immigrant parents. Villa was trained at the San Francisco Art Institute in the 1950s as an abstract expressionist. Over time he transformed his practice to address issues of ethnic and cultural diversity, and later focused on the history of Filipinos in the United States.

He was a leading figure in 'Third World' and 'multicultural' international art movements. His large-scale works reference non-Western traditions, including tattoo, scarification, ritual, and ceremony. He was also an important theorist, curator, and organizer of public forums that he called 'actions.' Villa sought to forge a new kind of art-world inclusion that reflected his own experience, commitment to diversity, and boundary-bending imagination. (Summarized from the publisher’s note.)

Image 1: Front cover featuring “Tat2 (Tatu Series), 1971, Ink on Itek photograph

Image 2: “Muscle (Tatu Series), 1971, Ink on Itek Photograph

Image 3: “Untitled (Notepad drawings), 1990, Pen on paper

Carlos Villa : worlds in collisionOakland, California : University of California Press, [2021] HOLLIS number: 99155985964903941

[fedorahead]

it's weird trying to balance being a good and conscientious human, living within an onslaught of information and connections and constant stimulus, and having a processing disorder that leaves most of my functions on autopilot

if someone wants me to do something (like hang out with them tomorrow), does something with an expectation that i will be able to track and understand what's going on (like changing a profile picture or name), or thinks i have some specific capacity (like reading a dni list before reblogging a post), i'd usually prefer to be able to do that myself. but the fact is, for the majority of stuff, i just can't.

i want to be a conscientious person, and put in effort for those i care about, and i try my damnedest but between drowning in stimulus vying for my attention and having neurological disability, i will never be as caring or aware or capable as i feel like i ought.

being intelligent people assume i somehow have even more capacity for these things when really i'm barely surviving eating every day and even then my husband does all the cooking.

i have calendar alerts for birthdays. i have phone numbers saved in my phone. i have a notepad on my phone, open and full of so much information that if it didn't have a search function it would be useless. i can't remember i even have these things a lot of the time.

i see so many moralistic judgments of "if they really cared, they'd do xyz" and like ok maybe in the 1990s when we had moments without the buzzing of electronics and notifications and the last 15 conversations we had in the past hour on our minds. maybe for someone not only entirely neurotypical but also unplugged, maybe they'll remember holidays before the day of or after. but that's a rare species and i will never be that species because i need my technology to actually literally survive, and i need my connections because i don't have a community of parents and church and family and friends i grew up with, i have only this.

and it's overstimulating and i'm constantly drowning

and then people want to see me irl and i have to mask, and even when i'm hiding from the world they show up or i live with them and i have to mask, and i never have time where i don't have to mask.

and my sensory issues are always on high, especially during this heatwave, and while pregnant, and allergic to the dog and the cats and the air, and they don't turn off or go away or get better.

so i can't remember what day it is, hell i can't even do basic math most of the time.

so i do my best but if i do something callous or forgetful please remember that i'm firing on half a cylinder at best and i don't get to choose what uses that cylinder at any given time

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Lisa Frank Mini Notepads

1990s

Found on Ebay, user garsamw0

Is that a cheetah or a leopard?? I even have cheetah/leopard print in one of my tattoos and I still don't know lol. I don't actually like this print, I was just a drunk y2k emo girl who didn't think out her tattoos lol. The little critter on this notepad is adorable though!

[mrxcreepypastamadness]

Since it's Pride Month, might as well show my official, yes "official" Sonic.EXE D-Side fembois! ^^

#1:

Melody.ZIP (Disguised)

Melody.ZIP

Zachariah, also known as Melody.ZIP, is a D-Side varient of the original Zachariah (which is not made yet). Zachariah resides in a pirated SegaSonic game that contained a virus that D-Side Boyfriend downloaded.

Aliases:

• Melody.ZIP

• .ZIP

Status: Alive

Species: Armadillo

Subspecies: Zip bomb

Gender: Male 🏳️‍🌈

Eye Color:

• Black (Disguised)

• Yellow (True Form)

Inspired by: Mighty.ZIP (created by DastardlyDeacon)

Appears in: Friday Night Funkin' D-Sides

Debut: Friday Night Funkin' D-Sides

Music:

• Try Harder (Too Slow D-Side)

• No Rest (You Can't Run D-Side)

• Soul Clash (Triple Trouble D-Side)

• Final Lap (Final Escape D-Side)

Trivia:

• To unlock his file, the player must type "MIGHTY" in the files.

• If the player types "SONIC" in the files, another riddle from Zachariah opens in the Notepad, telling the player that he is not Sonic.

• Melody.ZIP speaks in rhymes because it's funny, however he hates Mighty.ZIP's bad puns so much he had no problem kicking him in the dick.

• Melody.ZIP would kick Super Mario Anime Kart Peach for $20.

• Melody.ZIP currently resides in Icy Isle alongside Mighty.ZIP.

• Zachariah wouldn't get along well with the sassy, teasing JX, or his racing rival SMAK Peach either. However, the the story would show him making an effort to reconcile, per events of God Feast, their own Thankgiving tradition.

• Melody.ZIP ate his mic when transforming into his normal form.

• Melody.ZIP is an Omega, and likes Alpha men.

• Melody.ZIP can make Brioche Bread.

#2:

Tamaki Quinn

Tamaki Quinn is the main opponent of Endless, he is the D-Side version of Mikishi Sonnie.

Aliases:

• Dokeshi Tamaki

Status: Alive

Species: Armadillo

Gender: Male 🏳️‍🌈

Eye Color: Black

Music:

• Endless (D-Side)

Trivia:

• Dokeshi is a word in Japanese, which means harlequin, jester, or evil spirit. This mirrors Mikishi's name, which can be interpreted in Japanese as a "storyteller", "demon god", or "entertainer", albeit it is actually just a nickname for "The Adventures of Batman and Robin" for the Sega CD.

• If the player tries to go to the debug option and type in "Endless" to access the secret boss easter egg in The Adventures of Batman and Robin, you get a pop up from Tamaki saying, "Nice Try, The Jokes on You.", and when OK is clicked, it takes you back to the main menu.

• Tamaki Quinn is actually gay.

• Tamaki Quinn can be a secret supervillain in Gotham City.

#3:

Zelda

Zelda, also known as God ZZ, is the main opponent of Cycles, based on the character Lord XX. He is a demon whom SEGA summoned in the 1990s to assist them with game development. Eventually, he forced the company to abandon him, then he took the worlds he was forced to create and made them a bit more like his home. Although he seldom gets visitors in his current state, he's always eager to share his wonderful creations with any who cross his path.

Aliases:

• God ZZ

• ZZ (or ZeeZee)

Species: Demon

Subspecies:

• Armadillo (Normal)

• Shooting Star (Ristaria)

• Orbot (Vectorwoman)

• Human (Alexandra Kidd)

Gender: Transgender (He/She) ♂️♀️

Eye Color: Yellow

Music:

• CYCLES (D-Side)

Trivia:

• Zelda foreshadows his next form, with the faces of the next character peering through his mouth.

• In the final part of Cycles, Zelda's forms disappears when he is in the shadows.

• His forms changes depending on the character he forms, and what character corresponds to it.

• All of Zelda's forms have a "Z" shape somewhere on his person-Melody and Vectorwoman have it carved into their chests, Ristaria's is on his gloves, and Alexandra Kidd's is on the gem in his chest.

• He/She is originally intended for Zelda's non-Melody forms to hold mutilated versions would be that form's ally as well, but when Zelda realizes that Ristaria, Vectorwoman, and Alexandra Kidd didn't have any allies to speak of, they changed their plans to use the games' perspective final bosses instead.

• Zelda hates the government much more than you can expect.

• Zelda's favorite Seraph of the End character is Kuel Tepes.

Gallery:

Zelda (Ristaria)

Zelda (Vectorwoman)

Zelda (Alexandra Kidd)

(Might Redesign his 4th and last form.)

#4:

Sunny & Melodee

Sunny is the D-Side varient of the original Sunny in the primary opponent of Milk.

Melodee is the secondary opponent and playable character in Milk. He is based on Sunny & Jinx.

Species:

• HedgeHAWG (Sunny)

• Armadillydoo (Melodee)

Gender: Male (both) 🏳️‍🌈

Eye Color: Black (both)

Inspired by: LooneyDude

Fur Color: Purple and white (Sunny)

Debut: Sunny 2

Music: Milk (D-Side)

Trivia:

• Sunny's species isn't actually a hedgehog, he was believed to be but he is verified in his full name "Sunny The".

• Unlike Sunny's V2.5/3.0 sprites, D-Side Sunny opens his mouth in his sprites.

• Melodee was going to debut in Sunny the Game 2, a cancelled sequel to Sunny the Game.

[schrijverr]

A Behind the Scenes of: Pride 1990

Jonathan gives an inside look to the photos taken at Pride in 1990, walking viewers through the stories behind them.

On AO3.

Ships: Jargancy & Steddie

Warnings: Period typical homophobia and police brutality mentioned

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, uhm, I’m Jonathan Byers, you might know me from A Collection of Queer Photography, the book I recently released with my partner Nancy,” Jonathan starts out the video, sitting on a cozy chair in a light sleek backdrop, which can be recognized as the apartment he shared with Argyle and Nancy.

Jonathan looks to be a little unsure of how to act on camera, but he continues on: “There have been so many great reactions to the book, so I thought I’d tell a little about the stories behind some of the photographs and take a little look into the process that went into the book itself.”

“One part of the book that has gotten a lot of attention online is Pride of 1990, so I thought I would start there,” Jonathan introduces, shifting to the side so there is room on the screen next to him to show photographs.

Interview with a Leather Daddy appears on screen, it is of Nancy. She is at a march talking to a guy dressed in all leather. In her hand is a notepad, she is writing something down with a serious face as the Leather Daddy explains something, pointing to his leather harness as he talks.

“This photo is called Interview with a Leather Daddy,” Jonathan says, he has the book in his lap as a reference. “It is meant to be seen in relation to Prideful Connections as is here on the page as well.”

Prideful Connections appears underneath the first image, so they are side by side. It is again of Nancy with the Leather Daddy, in this one she has lowered the notepad and the two of them are laughing about something. It’s not a laugh that speaks of years of knowing each other, but of a connection with a stranger that is made in the moment.

“I really like capturing a moment in my photography, a true snippet of a person, instead of an image they try to present,” Jonathan explains. “And in here you can see the juxtaposition between Nancy as she showed the world, but also as who she truly is.”

Now that he is talking about his photography, Jonathan has loosened up a little and is more animated, as he goes on: “As you can see in Interview with a Leather Daddy she is there as someone at work. She is serious and diligent. A professional. This picture without context is Nancy as she is in her work life. A lot of people who aren’t part of the queer scene might think a leather daddy to be odd – it isn’t, for the record – but Nancy just does her job.”

He looks up from the image and back to the camera. “Nancy will always be a professional, but that isn’t what is happening here, which makes that other photograph so important. Because she isn’t just doing her job, that is what she is telling those who will look at the guy she is interviewing and brand him as wrong or weird. Nancy isn’t that kind of person.”

“As you can see here,” he points, “in Prideful Connections Nancy is also there as a member of the march, not just as the press on the sidelines. People who don’t know will see the first, those who do, see the second. Photos tell so much, but sometimes you need more to paint the entire picture.”

“Neither of these are a wrong depiction of her, but one is a little bit more Nancy than the other,” he says, a love-sick fond smile on his face. “She will get her story, trust me, but she isn’t always ruthless and cold when she does.”

There is a cut as Jonathan moves on to the next photograph. On the screen a young Eddie and Steve appear holding up a sign that says ‘WE WON’T BE MURDERED’. Steve is dressed in a polo and denim shorts, looking like he should be in a suburb instead of a pride march, were it not for his face contorted in a gleeful yell. Eddie next to him is also shouting. He is dressed similar to the Leather Daddy of before. He has only his leather jacket on and a black leather cap, as well as leather jeans with his handcuff belt. Chains hang around his wrists and neck.

“This photo is also from that day, it’s called We Won’t Be Murdered. Pretty self explanatory, I think,” Jonathan says.

“I like this photograph, because it puts respectability next to all that is seen as wrong,” Jonathan explains. “Steve, here on the left, is the perfect American boy in how he is. He used to be popular, prom king and basketball team captain. He kind of embodies that American ideal that people thought needed to be protected from the gays.”

“And Eddie is quite the opposite,” Jonathan smiles lopsidedly into the camera. “Those who have followed his career probably know how out there he is and how against the American ideal he is in everything he does.”

“Especially in this photo, he dressed up for Pride. He is deep in the leather and kink scene, has never been shy about it,” Jonathan says. “And Pride is the day to lay it on a little thick, back then that was a big thing. Being proud of who you are despite it being unconventional is kind of the point, because it’s not harming anyone. It’s okay.”

Jonathan takes a deep breath, looking at the photograph, then goes on: “So, they kind of form opposites in how they represent, but they hold the sign together. I think that comes across as really powerful. This joining of hands, this loving each other from seemingly other ends of the spectrum, because it is kind of what people are scared off.”

“People are scared of that ideal being corrupted, but that is not what is happening here,” Jonathan explains. “The American ideal looks happy and free, because the American ideal does not exist. It is also a person, just like the perceived threat is. They’re just two people, who love each other and want to be able to live.”

Visible appears on screen. It is of Argyle. He is holding one side of a banner, text cut off. He is in his usual odd agglomeration of clothes, smiling into the camera with a little wave. Because he is so tall, he sticks out above most people, the way it is staged, he looks like he is leading the crowd.

“This photograph, I named Visible,” Jonathan starts. “We put it next to We Won’t Be Murdered, because it kind of tells the story. It’s what we wanted to say and what we wanted to be. And it has a different energy too.”

He says: “Visible is that quiet determination and calmness. Argyle naturally sticks out in a crowd since he is so tall, which I used. He also has a mellow vibe around him, which works well here. His style and way of being definitely marked him as odd at the time. A hippy and hooligan. Even though he clearly wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Argyle here is the absurdity of being seen as a threat,” Jonathan tells the camera. “He is just so sweet and enjoying himself, but the fact that he is part of this crowd, it is perceived as leading an army.”

“Beyond the symbolism, it is also just a very Argyle photo,” at that Jonathan smiles a similar smile to the one he had when talking about Nancy.

Jonathan sobers up slightly as he moves onto the last photograph, that replaces Visible on the screen.

Picking a Fight is of Nancy and Eddie taken from behind, both are running towards a police car. Bend over the car, the person is hard to make out, however, the legs are wearing the same denim shorts that Steve was moments before.

“Uhm, this photograph is also part of the story, sadly,” Jonathan clears his throat. “We chose to put it on this page to stand opposite of the civil interview and peaceful, happy crowd in the other photographs. I’m not going to sit here and say every Pride march was a peaceful happening, but we never put people in true danger. We didn’t want to kill anyone or put them in the hospital.”

“I’m going to be talking about police violence right now, so if you are triggered by that, feel free to stop watching now,” he says with a small, gentle smile.

He is quiet for a second to give people time to click away, before he starts again: “So this is called Picking a Fight. Steve is getting arrested here for disturbing the peace. Nancy and Eddie will soon be arrested for resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. Steve also got charged with that because of their failed rescue.”

“I called it Picking a Fight, because two camps are picking a fight here,” Jonathan explains. “The police are arresting people for being part of the crowd. They were rounding up topless women for public indecency, which is when Steve stepped in and got arrested for being on their side. Then you also have Eddie and Nancy, who are about to start an argument with the police because of the arrest of Steve.”

“This photograph isn’t really telling a hidden story, just an obvious one that keeps repeating,” Jonathan says a moroseness hanging about him. “It’s police, who will pick the side of the government and harass those who are branded as other. It’s fucked up and it keeps happening. If not with the gays, then with another marginalized community.”

“I took this photo at the time, because there wasn’t much else I could do,” Jonathan says. “I know that sounds cowardly, but it was tactical. There are more I took at the moment, we just chose this one to publish because it is such a visual. But at the time, it was also collecting evidence, to have proof that we didn’t start shit.”

“It was also tactical for me to stay out of it,” Jonathan goes on. “Robin had just gotten out of dodge after Steve took the fall, so she was away and Argyle was in front of what was happening and he wouldn’t get involved anyway. Those three got arrested, he might not have made it to the station at all.”

Jonathan looks angry and upset, even if this all happened 27 years ago. “Out of the six of us, I am a cis white man,” he says. “I had evidence and privilege. I had the biggest chance of being able to bail them out. Sometimes that’s the only way you can have someone’s back.”

He flips the page and the three faux-mug shots he had taken at the time come into view. On the most left is Eddie. He is flashing devil horns and dimples in his portrait, cap perched precariously on his head. His right eye is starting to bruise and there are marks around his wrists from the cuffs, a smear of blood is still under his nose.

Nancy is next to him. She is looking straight into the camera with the same hard look from before, it feels like a mugshot. Her eyes have always had a doe-like quality, almost innocent, which is offset by the bruise underneath her left eye.

Last is Steve. His left eye is swollen shut, but he doesn’t seem to care, grinning widely and showing off a missing tooth. There is dried blood in the corner of his mouth. His hair is mussed up more than ever seen before and blood splatters line his polo. He is the image of a marred goody two shoes.

Jonathan explains: “I’m skipping over Bailed Out on page 74 for now. That is a great reunion photo after they got out, but is pretty basic. A snap shot.”

“Instead I’m focusing on these three, they’re a series of sort. Each are just their name and then After Encountering the Police in 1990,” Jonathan says. “It’s a pretty utilitarian title, but I wanted to ensure that people knew what had happened to make them this injured.”

“It’s quite funny how none of them have an official mug shot, because the police dropped the charges before they processed them after I showed them all the photos I had taken of the arrest and threatened to sue,” Jonathan laughs a little bitterly. “They still kept them overnight though, made Steve miss his shift so his boss would find out. Assholes.”

“With these photos the idea for this book started actually,” Jonathan tells the audience. “I’ve said that in interviews, but it’s true. I was so mad at the time, I wanted to preserve what had happened to us just asking for permission to live and it turned into me wanting to show that we lived and lived gloriously.”

“I think they thought I was a little crazy when I asked them to pose for these,” Jonathan goes on, “but they were good sports.”

“It’s very important that these are posed,” he says, making sure to look into the camera. “They are posed, because they get to chose how to look in response to what happened to them. They kind of look like mug shots, but they aren’t. These are evidence pictures. Pictures the police didn’t want to be taken because of what they showed.”

“Each of them gets to create their own reaction to their arrest and that crafted pose says a lot about them all,” Jonathan explains.

“Eddie, for example, isn’t taking it seriously at all,” Jonathan starts at the left. “He is making a mockery, throwing up his own sign of defiance in his refusal to pose like one is meant to and instead marking the photo as his own by throwing up the horns.”

“Nancy, on the other hand, is taking it seriously. She has that hardened look, which greatly contradicts her girl-ish features,” Jonathan says. “For her, she hasn’t been taken seriously in the past, but now she is. She is drawing you in with her eyes, making you look at her and forcing you to see what has been done to her and to take her seriously. It feels like a mugshot, but also like you’re looking at a victim, but a victim who is making you a silent witness.”

“And then you have Steve. He has this blasé attitude about him, kind of makes him look like a frat boy arrested over spring break for drunken disorderly,” Jonathan says. “He uses his appearance as a shield here. He lost the most to this arrest, but he doesn’t let you see it in this shot. He maintains that American ideal look, that accepted male violence.”

“But Steve is still part of the line up, he lets you know what is really happening, what he really got arrested for. How something that looks so quintessentially American can also be part of the others that it has marked as wrong. How you can’t know. It’s very interesting to see.”

Jonathan shuts the book and gives a tight smile to the camera, unsure the second he doesn’t have his work to hold onto.

“Anyway, that was a little background on pages 72 to 75. Hopefully that was interesting or fun to listen to,” Jonathan signs off. “We’ll try to see if there is any interest for more of these and then we might make more. Thank you for watching.”

~~

A/N:

Can you see that I have put way too much thought into this? Like I have so much stuff that was very deliberate and I get to point it out now lmao xp

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

Okay so, a lot happened, I need to type faster and fill in my notepad quicker but I only have two hands. Short recap: weird Christian plant guy, I did some 6th grade chemistry on metals, and Luddick is an idiot. And I hope he'll never find this blog. Let me start with this: I am in Prague and found myself a room. I'm sorry not to be able to update as frequently, but there's so much stuff happening who can keep up with that...?

Transcript of the first and second page:

He's an ecert of Mueller's website. His newsletter is the funniest thing ever: "spread the work of the lord with science" and "how not to stay doomed" and "hello I made this website in the 1990s".

About the content, my notes are as follows:

He talks about his work being the one for the Lord and his "Master", which is, when you read further, a person we already know.

Talking about Eve and how she doomed the planet, he looks down on "mortals" and thus thinks he is immortal and claims these people dug their own graves.

He's fond of throwing people onto a stake it it gets him to his Christian world any closer. Apparently he's lost it.

There we are, the Golden Lion! That's Eckhardt, who has been around " a long, long time". He works with him to achieve at least immortality to break Eve's "spell".

Uhm yeah apparently cliamte crisis is his own work since he is just so, so good. He's batshit narcissist and I'm glad not to have met him.

Mueller is in Eckhardt work- and also fanclub and if everyone in there is just slightly like him, Lord have mercy on me. And Lara Croft. And perhaps Kurtis Trent if he's alive and after them, too.

Transcript of the third and fourth page:

The main thing here is that I re-read my notes again, on Eckhardt's Sanglyph, the metals he is harvesting, and the ones he had hidden in the paintings. Something was weird about the metals and I wasn't sure why. Then I read about cobalt, nickel, copper, zinc and gallium- the names of the metals today. They are close in the periodic table, and since the alchemist needs a lot of them in a purified form, they are hard to get by for a normal person. What I conclude is the following: he wants to use cheap copper to do alchemist chemistry and turn them into other elements, something we normal people can only do with bombing atomic cores. If he manages to do that his way to using the Sanglyph and becoming the Golden Lion is way easier.

Transcript of the fifth and sixth page:

So, my internet friend "PassionforResearchion" calls herself a scientist and has a passion for biology, plastic and medical surgery. She also loves genetic mutations, especially working with animals that can regenerate- I'll spare you the photos of her work. She seems to work well with Muller, though- she uploaded a picture of someone looking a bit like da Vinci's man, but in her notes she claimed this was "the Master". Who, if she means the same one as Muller, has to be Eckhardt. The figure looks like it has enhancements on its body and a chest plate with a glove(?) and something within its heart. Did she do this to him?

I'll annoy Luddick to talk to me again, and can maybe use my contacts. Or my fake ones. I need the dossiers if they're worth anything ang get a visiting pass to the Strahov, I think they're doing more than just research on Nephilim and plants.

Transcript of the seventh and eighth page:

I found Vasiley's art gallery, I found it through the mails of Carvier and von Croy. When asked about Vasiley, they wonderef how I couldn't have possibly heard of his death. After some talk they handed me a newspaper with an article that I took a photo of:

he died in his private rooms (house?)

the Russian mafia is supposed to be involved (not the Czech)

they were after the paintings

someone at the newspaper suggested the Montrum from Paris came here to murder him (he had ties to Werner and Cervier)

the Police keeps quiet.

I need to find his adress and check his place out.

Transcript of the ninth page:

Ha, you will never guess whom I saw outside my hotel window! Just now! This guy. Fucking Luddick himself with an old red car and papers on the roof. He left for a smoke, I assume...yeah I totally didn't steal them. I did not. But I took snaps of the dossier of whatever I found important and left for my hotel room. The luck is with the idiots, and I am one of them.

I'm examining the dossiers right now. I have five photos on people and want to gather information on them as much as I can. Stay tuned, for I will try to get into Vasiley's place if I'm able to. Another crime scene to check out, can't wait to have my background check at some point!

[systemtek]

The Microsoft Windows operating system has defined and redefined the world of computing for nearly four decades. From its humble beginnings in the mid-1980s to its current, sleek Windows 11 iteration, Windows has grown alongside and helped shape the tech landscape. In this post, we'll explore the history, key milestones, and features of Windows over the years. 1. Windows 1.0 (1985) – A Graphical Breakthrough - Release Date: November 20, 1985 - Key Features: Basic graphical interface, applications like Paint, Calculator, and a rudimentary file management system Windows 1.0 introduced a graphical user interface (GUI) to what was previously a world of command-line computing with MS-DOS. This release was groundbreaking in that it allowed users to use a mouse to navigate on-screen icons and windows. Though it seems basic by today’s standards, Windows 1.0 offered multitasking capabilities and applications like MS Paint, Notepad, and Calculator, laying the foundation for graphical computing. 2. Windows 2.0 (1987) – Enhanced Graphics and User Interface - Release Date: December 9, 1987 - Key Features: Overlapping windows, expanded memory management, Excel and Word integration Windows 2.0 built on its predecessor with overlapping windows, faster processing, and improved graphics support, especially for Intel’s 286 and 386 processors. This version introduced keyboard shortcuts and familiar applications like Microsoft Excel and Word, setting the stage for a focus on productivity tools. 3. Windows 3.0 (1990) and Windows 3.1 (1992) – Mainstream Success - Release Dates: May 22, 1990 (Windows 3.0), April 6, 1992 (Windows 3.1) - Key Features: Enhanced graphics, program manager, file manager, popularization of GUI Windows 3.0 was a massive leap forward. With an improved interface, virtual memory support, and more advanced graphics, this version became highly popular. Windows 3.1 continued the trend with stability improvements and the inclusion of the TrueType font system, which solidified Windows as a platform for both professional and personal use. These versions cemented Windows’ position in the market. 4. Windows 95 (1995) – The Revolution Begins - Release Date: August 24, 1995 - Key Features: Start Menu, taskbar, plug-and-play support, 32-bit architecture Windows 95 was revolutionary, marking the beginning of the modern era of Windows. It introduced the iconic Start Menu, taskbar, and a new, user-friendly interface. With support for 32-bit applications, Windows 95 provided better performance and multitasking. It was also one of the first operating systems to emphasize "plug and play" hardware, making it easier to add peripherals without technical expertise. 5. Windows 98 and Windows ME (1998-2000) – The Rise of Internet Integration - Release Dates: June 25, 1998 (Windows 98), September 14, 2000 (Windows ME) - Key Features: Internet Explorer integration, improved USB support, System Restore in ME Windows 98 improved upon Windows 95 by incorporating Internet Explorer directly into the OS, reflecting the rapidly growing importance of the internet. Windows 98 SE (Second Edition) improved USB support and stability, while Windows ME, released in 2000, focused on multimedia and included System Restore. However, ME faced criticism for stability issues, setting the stage for the next major Windows release. 6. Windows 2000 and Windows XP (2001) – Stability and Usability - Release Dates: February 17, 2000 (Windows 2000), October 25, 2001 (Windows XP) - Key Features: Enhanced stability, NTFS support, user-friendly interface, improved security Windows 2000 introduced NTFS (New Technology File System) to the consumer market, significantly improving data management and security. Shortly after, Windows XP became a landmark release, offering a redesigned interface, stability, and user-friendliness that resonated with consumers and businesses alike. XP became one of the most popular and longest-supported operating systems in history, establishing Windows as the go-to choice for both home and enterprise users. 7. Windows Vista (2007) – A Bumpy Road - Release Date: January 30, 2007 - Key Features: Aero interface, enhanced security, new file management, User Account Control (UAC) Windows Vista brought a visual overhaul with the Aero interface, improved security, and several new features, but it was plagued by performance and compatibility issues at launch. Although Vista made important improvements in security and file management, its reputation was marred by its high hardware requirements and the intrusive User Account Control (UAC) feature. 8. Windows 7 (2009) – The Fan Favorite - Release Date: October 22, 2009 - Key Features: Improved Aero interface, faster boot times, enhanced touch support, libraries Windows 7 was widely praised for its performance, stability, and intuitive user interface. Building on Vista's foundation, it addressed its predecessor's issues and introduced improved touch support, faster boot times, and the ability to organize files with libraries. It became immensely popular, especially among consumers who had skipped Vista, and continued as a favored OS for years. 9. Windows 8 and Windows 8.1 (2012-2013) – Touch and Metro UI - Release Dates: October 26, 2012 (Windows 8), October 17, 2013 (Windows 8.1) - Key Features: Metro UI, Start screen, Microsoft Store, improved touch experience Windows 8 took a bold step with the introduction of the Metro UI, designed for touch-enabled devices. It removed the Start Menu, replacing it with a Start screen and a full-screen app experience that received mixed feedback. Windows 8.1, released as a free update, attempted to address user complaints by reintroducing a form of the Start button and improving usability. However, the radical design shift led to a mixed reception. 10. Windows 10 (2015) – A Unified Platform - Release Date: July 29, 2015 - Key Features: Cortana integration, virtual desktops, Start Menu return, Microsoft Edge, frequent updates Windows 10 aimed to unify the Windows experience across PCs, tablets, and even Xbox consoles. It reintroduced the Start Menu, integrated Cortana as a digital assistant, and offered frequent, cumulative updates rather than distinct versions. Windows 10 also introduced the Microsoft Edge browser and supported a seamless experience across devices. It quickly became one of Microsoft’s most popular releases, with a focus on both personal and professional environments. 11. Windows 11 (2021) – A New Era of Windows - Release Date: October 5, 2021 - Key Features: Centered Start Menu, rounded corners, Microsoft Teams integration, Android app support Windows 11 brings a refreshed design, with rounded corners, a centered Start Menu, and a more streamlined, minimalist approach. Microsoft Teams is now integrated directly into the taskbar, reflecting the remote-work era, and support for Android apps is now part of the ecosystem, which is a major step toward app compatibility. Windows 11 also introduces new gaming features, making it appealing for a wide audience, including gamers and content creators. Conclusion: The Legacy of Windows From Windows 1.0 to Windows 11, each version has brought unique innovations that shaped the tech landscape. Windows has made graphical computing accessible, prioritized internet connectivity, enhanced productivity, and adapted to the rise of mobile and touch devices. With Windows 11, Microsoft has embraced modern aesthetics and functionality, continuing its legacy of innovation. Windows’ journey from a basic graphical interface to a sophisticated and connected operating system reflects not only the evolution of technology but also Microsoft’s commitment to staying relevant in a constantly changing digital world. The future of Windows promises further advancements, continuing its role in shaping how we work, communicate, and live in an increasingly digital world. Read the full article

[shamsabaddai-ardn516]

Wk 1 SDL: Photographer Research: Steve McCurry - My top 4

From Steve McCurry's 'Afghanistan' Collection. Sourced here: https://www.stevemccurry.com/afghanistan

Image 1: Steve Curry: No Title or date provided.

Image 2: Steve McCurry: Nuristan, Afghanistan, 1992.

Image 3: Steve McCurry: Pul i Khumri, Afghanistan, 1992.

Image 4: Steve McCurry: Kandahar, Afghanistan, 1990.

Why I selected these images as my top 4:

I really loved Steve McCurry's use of colour. In all the above photos they are warmly lit, dynamic, inviting, and almost mystical. They have an inviting feel, and seem to capture a depth & story to every image.

The images feel like they are a balance of both soft & bold at the same time.

Photographer Background: Steve McCurry:

Most popular work: 'Afghan Girl' 1984.

"Steve McCurry (American, b.1950) is a photojournalist whose photographic work focuses on war and its consequences. McCurry started in photography as a Pennsylvania State newspaper photographer while attending the university to earn a degree in theater arts. After graduating in 1974, he went on to work for Today''s Post in King of Prussia, PA, for two years. He then went to work freelance in India. 

As a freelance photographer, McCurry would often go off the beaten path. Early in his career, this tendency led him to cross the Pakistan border into Afghanistan prior to the Russian invasion. The film he shot was smuggled out of the country sewn into his clothing—native garb he wore so as to blend in—and contained some of the first images taken of the beginning of the struggle between Russian and Afghan forces. The photographer’s experiences in Afghanistan marked the beginning of a career of war coverage, taking him to battlefields in Beirut, Cambodia, Iran, Iraq, the Philippines, and later back to Afghanistan. "

- Bio Written By Artnet: https://www.artnet.com/artists/steve-mccurry/biography"

Tools preferred by Steve McCurry for his signature style:

Camera: Leica SL-2 . He mainly uses a 24-90mm f/2.8 4 lens, along with the 15-35mm f/3.5-f/4.5 and 90-280 mm f/2.8-f.4.

He also admits to having tens of thousands of images on his smartphone, but uses it more as a notepad or for grab shots.

For most of his work he uses the Leica, which he loves.

(Info Source Here: https://amateurphotographer.com/latest/photo-news/steve-mccurry-film-or-digital-it-doesnt-matter/#:~:text=Steve's%20current%20camera%20is%20a,notepad%20or%20for%20grab%20shots. )