#Asking kids if they want to look through my sticker jar. Talking to the older people who come in to buy the same newspapers every day. C

[postsentiment]

Everytime i want to quit my job i have 1 million heartwarming interactions with customers that make me say... U know what... maybe this is worth minimum wage after all....

[ofbetterbodies]

live commentary w timestamps below the cut:

13:15

Kat reading the bell jar then being asked by her father if she made anyone cry today... i get her

14:21

Inside of me are two wolves.... Kat and Bianca

17:45

Dating someone like me (insane swiftie) is quite literally like dating: extreme edition

19:03

Michael being in focus and Patrick being in the background but not in focus while he's being talked about >>>>

got tired of doing the time stamp thing so I'm going to just make a note of the time of the movie every 15 mins or so

lmaooo both Patrick and Kat being like I AM SCARY 👹 GO AWAY!!! Meanwhile they're both the softest softies

just realized I look like Joey but a girl 😭

UGH THE CAMERA WORK FROM THE GOLFERS TO THE FOOTBALL FIELD

THE WAY HEATH SAYS NOT MY PROBLEM 😭🫶🏻

Patrick and Kat are both smart as fuck I love them together god bless

THEIR FIGHTING AND BANTER AND JSUT FHDJDJDNN THEYRE SOOO

Joseph Gordon levitt is so baby in this

00:25:00

not to get #personal but my older sister is so Bianca with Kat's aesthetic and demeanor but she's older than me which explains so much of our relationship

bianca - "definite potential" so lizziecore

Imma be fr I also like being adored

I do love how it's sooo obvious that Patrick genuinely liked Kat but was terrified of her 😭

Joey and Kat's cars being similar in color and size but completely different in style as a character note >>>

PATRICK LAUGHING AT KAT LMAOOOOO

kat's Mary Janes are SOOO beautiful I want them in pink

Kat talking to her dad like that such a kinnie moment tbh

The holographic rainbow sticker inside Patrick's locker is like his whole character

Love the makeup on Bianca and Joey being similar perhaps to convey the similarities in their vapidness (as of now in the narrative on Bianca's part)

00:33:00

Cameron and Bianca's intel operation snooping through Kat's room💀

"A girls room in very personal" tight shot on Bianca

Cut to: Kat's room which they have torn apart 😭

I get Kat for her thing against smokers imma be fr

you're telling me I'm NOT a pretty guy?

angry girl music of the pop persuasion is my personal MO

KAT GO DANCEY DANCE!!!

Don't have the words to describe it but I love how this sequence of Patrick seeing Kat dancing is done like it's so soft (his little smile and sharp intake of breath like damn!)

I'm like I think heath ledger's performance as Patrick Verona is a perfectly executed character and they're like partial credit

Julia Stiles' reaction to seeing Heath's character is soooooooo good

Girl who is an actress: I love acting

Me to me: why can't you be normal

"To distract themselves from the emptiness of their meaningless consumer driven lives" speak on it queen

Kat vs Bianca's outfitsssss sistersssss dichotomyyyyyy

00:40:00

THE EMPATHY BELLY 😭 my parents made me watch this scene in 5th grade to make sure I knew the weight of my decisions

Heath's delivery of "9:30, right?" My heart ❣️

Cameron or Patrick levels of down bad or we're not talking

THIS PARTY SHOT!!!

Every time I watch this movie i forget Bogey was having a small casual get together (having a few people over from cxgf) and the kids from school kind of just took over his house 😭 he didn't throw a crazy party

I do also love that this movie shows story progression of even the bg characters bc Bogey was featured earlier

Oh! That must be Nigel with the Brie :)

This one dude pulling up with an entire dj kit

I fucking love how Kat's hair looks 😭😭 will be stealing

THE GLASS DOOOOOOORRRR

Bogey: 😃 thank youuuu 🙁

making bad decisions bc your sister rejects you in public so true, queen

I do honestly really enjoy these live blogs w time stamps bc I feel like it's such a good exercise in plot pacing

I will never understand why Cameron did not tell Bianca that Joey paid for the whole setting up Patrick and Kat thing

Joey just wants a mommy he can fuck and it's hilarious (classic)

00:47:00

Really really thank you

Patrick trying to stop Kat <3

Yet another Kat Stratford kinnie moment (making bad decisions and a fool of yourself in public due to an interaction w your sister)

God I love Patrick's pep talk to Cameron so much

Kat and Patrick are so mother and father they're so goals

LEAVE IT TO YOU TO USE BIG WORDS WHEN YOURE SMASHED 😭😭😭

Who needs affection when I have blind hatred 🫶🏻🫶🏻 yeah

I have never been understood more

Kat and Pat on da swings fo today

Patrick taking such good care of Kat >>>>>>>

YOUR EYES HAVE A LITTLE GREEN IN THEM *throws up*

Kat's moment in the car realizing she should start a band is so me realizing I want to be a music producer core

The only thing people know about me is that I'm ~scary~ (I was scary but did not realize it and became homeschooled before I put 2+2 together )

Yknow... you're not as vile as i thought you were

I realllllllyyy wish Patrick had said something like uuuh you are intoxicated and I am not like that but then again plot

The parallels of Bianca vs Kat's car scenes and kiss vs failed kiss.... sisterisms

Cameron literally said WE ARE SOOO BACK

I do also have an opinion about everything 🧍🏻‍♀️

00:57:00

Mandella and Michael are actually cute as hell

"Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns" REAL

I get Kat for being a hater because her romantic aspirations did not work out

Bianca shooting her gym teacher in the ass and clearly not giving a fuck because she is so deeply selfish 😭

I think that Patrick should have just told Kat everything and planned to rip off Joey bc she would have LOVED that

Oh Patrick I get you (staring at someone beautiful while they enjoy playing music)

"You're not as mean as you think you are"

"You're not as badass as you think you are"

Them 🩷

The look on Patrick's face after Kat leaves him 😭😭😭 DOWN HORRIFIC

MARCHING BAND AND LIVE SERENADE OF CANT TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU what a scene

GETTING HAULED OFF BY SECURITY AND DOING A LITTLE DANCE WHILE ESCAPING 🩷

Confiscating the weed the confiscating Cheetos

No commentary on Kat helping Patrick escape because I would never do anything remotely like this (obviously)

1:08:00

"Wits"

Him asking her this question <3 Kat's answer being that she doesn't like doing what people expect... she's so real

YOU NEVER DISAPPOINTED ME ‼️‼️

Paintball scene <3 couple that gets into fun violence together stays together

They're so awful to each other during paintball it's so amazing and romantic

The soundtrack in this movie is so beloved

How does she know the porn career is a lie 😏

God the something true scene

WHY WOULDNT HE TELL HER HERE 😭😭😭

Like I know why but

1:16:00

Joey and Kat lore drop!!!

I totally get kat's decision after Joey broke up with her like it is absolutely the kind of thing that would make you change how you see the world

Sister fight!

ALSO! Realizing that Bianca didn't want to let Cameron see her room because of how cutesey and feminine it is and how many stuffed animals she has

I feel like the relationship between the sisters is one of the reasons this movie has been such a classic for so long

I'm so obsessed with the parallels of the moments with the tvs between Mr Stratford and Bianca

BIANCA'S OUTFIT IS SO ME CORE GOD BLESSSS

Patrick is so stupid for not telling Kat here god fucking bless

And for one precious moment Bianca, Kat and Mandella were all happy

side note: Mandella and Michael are really cute (they have matching outfits!!)

PATRICK INVITING KAT'S FAVORITE BAND (googled: its letters to Cleo) (I feel uncool for having to google it)

Patrick telling Kat "something true" before he finds out the BAD "something true" 🙁

Bianca pummeling Joey ♥️♥️♥️

1:27:00

Bianca and Cameron said sssSSAILING TAKES ME AWAY TO WHERE I ALWAYS HEARD IT COULD BE

Mr Stratford is soooo my dadcore

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

Patrick buying Kat a fender stratocaster with the money from Joey>>>

but then- Yknow there's always drums and bass and maybe one day a tambourine

"And don't just think you can-"

Kisses her

What a film.

Side note: letters to Cleo performing on the roof of the school is sooooooooo 1999 idk

watching 10 things i hate about you 🫶🏻

[philomenafm]

(NATALIA DYER, DEMI GIRL) - Have you seen PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL? PHILLY is in HER/THEIR SOPHOMORE year. The WILDLIFE SCIENCE MAJOR is 20 years old & is a TAURUS. People say SHE/THEY are WHIMSICAL, PATIENT, APATHETIC and UNPREDICTABLE. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE CONCEALED MURDEROUS EVIDENCE  (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

ive done sm switches bt. she is the one. she is the one i love. trust me. ples. this is an old intro n im frankly. too lazy 2 read it bt. i love her a lot shes very good please like her

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. DISSOCIATION ), DEATH, DECAY, MAGGOTS.

aesthetic.

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, dancing naked in the woods with nothing but fire to light your way, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers, fungi and feeling one with them, lying down and decomposing, they’ll find us in a week. they’ll find us in a week.

basics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th, 2000

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: demisexual

pinterest ( & her family pinterest b/c they’re my most developed family uwu)

stats

favorite song: wonderfully bizarre, bendigo fletcher / we can be defined by the things we want / i’ll be a life full of free haircuts from the one that i love / we’ll collect fallen out teeth in a candy jar / mice for the backyard peregrine falcon reservation.

background.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot.

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her ged and applying to a local college in florida in shameful compliance.

they’re there for a year until philly gets (expectantly) expelled from the community college & the two of them are banned from the town they’d residing in up until that point. they don’t talk about it - but boy, was it one hell of a time.

they found refuge in preaker, a town that seemed to suit them well - it suited elektra’s desire to travel up and down the east coast, and it intrigued philomena enough to the point of her being content with staying. soon after, philly officially transferred to yates for her freshmen spring term & theyve been here since.

(whenever anna brings cillian uh. he’s in here too he’s been traveling w them fr like 3ish years. i just cannot rewrite atm KDSGLSDKLGKFGHLKSL bt hes here. n hes sexy. n we love him. bro3tp)

OH. hey yeah the secret. errmm. tht’s on cillian. philly just hid the evidence. no they didnt kill someone yes they did no they did not <3 yes

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon (& so does leo fowler eyes emoji)

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in preaker / yates - would hate to be forced out by mobs with torches and pitchforks

currently living in calloway while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. edit: her first & only kisses hv been w leo fowler. this is important

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her. she knows to respect nature. exudes natural trust energy <3 dont know wht tht means but

the trust expands to animals as well, she has a certain knack for getting them to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay. edit: she hs a tabby cat named pail, now. named in honor of her mother, bucket.

leaves her window in calloway wide open because of this, because her window is conveniently right besides a tree with sturdy branches. good for animal smuggling, sneaking in and out, hiding, etc. etc. world is her oyster.

though her room in calloway is ??? frankly a mess ??? already ??? usually keeps most of her possessions in her memory box but she’s also turned her room into a mini labyrinth of knick-knacks. very cozy, but very nest-like. think of howl’s room from howl’s moving castle.

wanted connections.

how did you get in here ;; someone whose room she perhaps crashed at late at night, mysteriously. she refuses to explain where she’s come from. she’s gone before you wake. they could literally not know her at all she’s just sleeping halfway under their bed like <3 thank you <3

ma’am this is a wendys ;;  someone who sees her constantly <3 doing outlandish shit <3 bc lets b real. shes weird. shes a weirdo. why do u think she wears the same hat everyday. (she doesnt wear hats often) anyways. they probably dnt even like her? just think shes very strange?

im literally going to dissect you ;;  someone who. wants to figure out philly. pick at her brain. wear her shoes. kind of in the same category of above in this general like. ur fkn weird. bt they wna figure out why <3 they wna play therapist <3 jokes on u she hates therapists

liddle thief in the night ;; someone who has caught her stealing. or dining n dashing. either/or. perhaps both. she steals a lot :/

oh like. friends n stuff ;; of any closeness. ppl she talks 2 conspiracies with, ppl she goes on late night walks with, ppl she explores with, ppl she steals with, ppl she smokes with, etc. etc. ppl who bring her out to parties cos they like her funky little ways when she gets drunk n tries to climb atop everything <3 

thts nice. anyways ;; this is fr like. literally anything unrequited. philly doesnt like <3 a lot of ppl <3 In That Way. so its basically just. ur muse thinks shes very neat n she thinks ur muse is very neat bt platonically. she doesnt do hookups or anything n if she does i tend 2 like. run purely based off of chemistry even with. most of her connections in general.

uuhh. anything ;; HLKDGKSDLKGHLKSFDSHGKFD i nvr rly hv a lot of connections up fr philly bc shes like. a very unpredictable muse n i think its usually better to just. throw her in! n see wht happens! we cn still plot obv n come up w some fun things bt fr the most part shes very organic

[zoomwriting]

The Lacrosse Captain

Chapter 1 - His stare

Warning: kissing

Word count: 1876

Love story about a petty girl and a one hell of a pain in the ass boy. 

- Do not read when easily triggered and/or not like sex scenes. Because they will come. (: -

Monday. How I hate that day. The beginning of a week filled with pain. Filled with school. 

This particular Monday is more hateful than others. It's the beginning of my last year of High School. Then I can finally go to Los Angeles. Then I can finally follow my dreams of becoming an actor.

I get up and open my closet. A good first impression always mattered. I started with sporting during summer vacation. It was a good choice to go out for gym. I developed muscles I didn't know I could get. So, I want to show off my body. I am not longer insecure. I can do this.

My eyes fall on a black leather skirt and a red shirt with short sleeves. I put them on quickly and follow my usual morning routine: going to the bathroom, eating breakfast and making my school bag.

I soonly am on my way to school. Heather, my best friend since the first day of kindergarten, joins me on her bike. Yes, we're biking to school. I don't have a car yet. I'm currently saving all of my money.

Anyway. Heather greets me with a long 'AAAAHH!'. She is the excited one of us. We have small talk about what we did the last week of the vacation.

'I went to Nick's party on Wednesday. And, oh my God, we kissed, Melissa!'

I shake my head. That Nick is an asshole. As a kid, he used to poke me with crayons. I'd get crazy of him and one time, I pushed him. He fell down and cried. He immediately told the teacher and she put me in the corner. I hate him. So much. And his best friend, Garen, too. Both spoiled brats.

'You know what I think of him. He's an idiot,' I grumble. We're one block away from the schoolbuilding.

'Yea, you don't like him. But, like, I think we're a thing now.'

I shake my head. 'He doesn't do relationships, you know that.'

'Well, thank you for always being so positive, bestie!' She says and goes faster. I told her that to warn her, not to make her mad.

I arrive at school and park my bike in the bicycle storage. Heather passes by me, but doesn't say anything. I let her be. She can do what she wants to do. It's easy to survive on my own.

My day starts just great. First period: physical education. PE. I don't bother to look for Heather and compare timetables. I directly go to my locker and put my books for the rest of the day away.

'What's up, Melistar?'

Melistar. A stupid nickname made by a stupid boy a couple of years ago. I don't even understand how he came up with it.

'Piss off, Nick.'

'Calm down, wallflower,' he smirks and slams my locker shut. My eyes meet his. His bright, green, playful eyes. I look away and roll my eyes.

He goes with his hand through his brown, spiked hair and keeps on staring. It's making me uncomfortable.

'What are you looking at?' I ask with my most irritated voice and he tills his head.

'Something's changed about you.'

'I have been going to gym, if that's what you mean.'

'Yes. That's probably it. Anyway, I didn't see you at my party?'

'You know I don't like your parties.'

He puts his finger on his chin, in a thinking way. 'You don't, no. Huh.'

The bell rings. I want to go, but Nick stops me. 'This Sunday I throw a new one. I'd like you to come.'

'Didn't you hear anything abour what I just said? Also, go to your girlfriend Heather. She's pissed at me for me being pissed at you. Bye Nick.'

I take off and don't let him stop me this time. I've had enough of him for today.

The girls changing room is packed with other girls fighting their way our of their skinny jeans. Replace them for skirts or shorts that are three sizes too small. I can almost see their underwear. Almost.

And then you have me. A regular, down to earth person. Not everything's about boys.

I grab my school's sports outfit. A yellow shirt with our symbol—a purple lion—and a pair of purple shorts. Arasavia High. An unusual name for an unusual town.

I then follow the other, whom I don't speak to, to the massive lacrosse field. I must say, our official team is pretty good at it. We've won two competitions last year.

I'd like to join the team if the captains weren't two of the biggest asses I've ever known.

Yes, ladies can attend the team. If most of them wouldn't be such drama queens who scream over a piece of mud on their shoe, it would've worked.

Reality sucks me in again and I see the boys coming up the field. I spot the two bastards in an instant. While the other girls are swooning over the accentuated muscles under their thight shirts, I feel vomit coming up while looking at them.

Nick is surprised as he sees me. Garen too. They approach us all cautiously.

'What's that! Wallflower has been working out!' Garen shouts. The girls giggle and throw looks at me.

'Jealous, big idiot?' I ask him with narrowed eyes.

'Nah, have you seen my body?'

He poses in ways that you can clearly see his muscles tensing up. 'Congratulations, kid. Want a sticker?' I scoff. Prick.

'Be careful, Melissa,' Nick warns me.

'Or what? Whatcha gonna do, boy?' I challenge him. He comes closer very swiftly. Then he whispers in my ear: 'Or I'll punish you.'

He gets me silent with that and I ignore his grinning face.

'Listen up, ladies!' Coach Martinez yells to get our attention, 'Today, you're all going to start with running five laps around the field and then we'll divide the group in seven teams, each will do something else. More info will follow. Now, go, go, go!'

We do as he says and start running. I sprint out in front of the huge mass and use the stamina I build up in the past months. It pays off.

Although I get company really soon. Two boys brush with their arms beside me and I almost jump by their scare.

'Not funny, assholes!'

Garen and Nick laugh. 'To us it is, babe,' Nick tells me with a wink.

I then run quicker to avoid their presence. They outrun me easily.

'Still not fast enough, boo,' Garen mocks.

It becomes a game of who is faster than who and who finishes first. I admit the competition with them was quite fun. They now don't see me as that slow, uncompetitive kid anymore. I receive not only respect from the girls, but from the other boys too.

The last lap is the most intense one. We go neck to neck. I am second, then third, then second, then first... We all go for a sprint at the end.

It looks like I am winning... I can actually do this...

If Nick wouldn't be the big ass as he is. He of course finishes first.

'What do I get now, Melistar?' He asks with the biggest smile on his face.

'A kick in the balls,' I answer dryly. Garen chuckles and Nick fake-gasps.

'No. I'd rather have you go to my party.'

I then want to tell him off, but Martinez interrupts me. 'You three. Congratulations, you're a team.'

My jaw drops. I hadn't foreseen this event. It seems logical that he paired us up. We are the best three at this moment.

'Sweet!' is Nick's reaction and he gives a high five to Garen. He afterwards turns to me. I ignore his attempt to make me high five him.

After a long ten minutes, Martinez lets us gather up again. 'Your tasks: push-ups, sit-ups, weightlifting, sprinting, jumping, rolling and headstand.'

He arranges us by group. We are obviously team one. We start with the push-ups.

Garen reads on the card that Coach gave us that we have to do at least thirty. We all begin at the same time and I end up being the only one in labour. The others are a lot faster than me.

'Five left, no turning back,' Nick encourages me in his own, weird way. I complete my set as well.

'Wasn't that hard, huh?' He kind off brags.

I decide to ignore him. If I'm going to react, he gets what he wants.

And that's exactly what I'd like to avoid.

The hour passed slowly. I survived. Barely.

The next hours go slowly by too.

I'm currently going to my last class, math. It's already silent in the halls: I'm too late. Doesn't surprise me. How do they expect me to go from the west wing of the building to the east wing in just five minutes? It's impossible. And Ms. Corn likes to make it hard for me. Like last year, she teached French to me too. Always finding a way to go on with the materials. Even after the bell rings.

I take a turn to the left and see a weird scene. At least, weird for me.

Heather is pushed against the row of lockers by a boy. I only see his back. He has brown hair.

I don't have to see his face to know who it is.

Their lips are locked on one another.

I have to go past them. Luck has turned itself against me today, is all I can think off.

I tiptoe as quietly as I can. Sneaking always worked for me. As a kid I could steal all the cookies in the jar, without my parents hearing anything.

Their smooching sounds make me want to vomit. So badly.

As I want to turn around a corner again, I can't stop myself from throwing one last look. A glimpse.

I wish I didn't do it.

Nick is still kissing Heather. But he has his eyes open. And is staring at me.

In that one second, his eyes are glistening like before. What does it mean?

I am afraid that they come after me, so I pull through and enter the classroom. Everyone is seated and whispering.

'Enough! Silence! Hello, Miss...?' The goodlooking young teacher asks me. How old would he be? Not much older than we are, I'm sure of it.

'Miss Reynolds.'

'Good. I'm Mister Creeks. Since it's my first day, I'll leave you with a warning. Don't be late next time.'

I gulp and nod. He doesn't want to get messed around with. He radiates dominance. He has piercing blue eyes. They watched through you.

I find a table in the back. There are still seats empty. I wonder who they belong to.

Take a guess.

My answers knock on the door.

Creeks opens it and two familiar faces pop up.

Heather and Nick.

I don't hear our teacher shouting. I don't see the two taking their seats next to me.

My gaze is pointed to the window. To the sky. Birds are flying and chirping.

I feel his presence. Nick's presence on my right. I feel his stare.

What has happened to him to suddenly change ways of looking at me?

°-°-°-°

Chapter 2? :)

[singtotheskiies]

Eight Summers

pairing: john laurens x reader modern au words: 7000 (yeah I got carried away a bit) warnings: fluff summary: follow yourself and John through eight summers as you become friends and mAyBe even fall in love. a/n: I've been wanting to do this forever (I can't believe I haven't done a John x reader yet) so let's see how this goes. the second summer contributes nothing whoops 

❇❇❇summer one❇❇❇ You sighed, flopping back onto your front porch. You had been so excited for this summer, and now, midway through June, nothing was happening. "I'm so bored," you said to the clear blue sky. As if by magic, your thinking aloud was interrupted by the rumble of a large moving van. Sitting up, you watched as it came down your street, trailed by a blue SUV. Both the vehicles pulled into the driveway of the house across the street and diagonal from yours. The house had been up for sale for the better part of the year, and only recently had a sticker reading "SOLD" been slapped onto the advertisement in the front yard. It was a large, spacious house that edged a forest, and you had often wondered at its slow sale. The rumble of the two cars had dwindled to a stop, and two men got out of the moving van and proceeded to open the back of the large vehicle. Meanwhile, a couple emerged from the SUV. The woman had brown, curly hair and looked to be in her early thirties. Her husband, or so you supposed, looked to be a few years older and had the same shade of hair as the lady, except his was stick-straight and short. Both of them waved at you, and you waved back with a smile. Under normal circumstances, you would have gone over to say hi, but this was their moving-in time and you didn't want to distract from that. I wonder if they have any kids​​, you thought, and your question was soon answered when the back left door of the car opened and a boy stepped out. You couldn't see very well since his back was to you, but he looked to be about your height and had clearly inherited his mother's curls. They fell halfway to his shoulders, and you didn't think you had ever seen a boy with hair quite like that. He exchanged a few words with his parents, and his mom motioned to where you were sitting. He turned around and looked at you before looking back at her, but his hesitation was ended as she pushed him gently. Now he was headed across the street and up your driveway. You stood up. "Hi! What's your name?" you asked brightly. "John," he answered, biting his lip before looking at you. "D'you have a last name?" you inquired. "Doesn't everyone?" he pronounced the first word as if it contained no s. "I think so. What's yours?" "Laurens. I'm John Laurens." "I'm (Y/N) (L/N). Nice to meet you." You stuck out your hand and he took it with surprising firmness. You looked at him closer as you shook hands. His curly hair was shiny and soft-looking, and it framed a face with a honeyed caramel tint which was covered with a liberal dusting of freckles. His eyes were a vibrant green, and they met yours with an unwavering gaze. The features on his face were well-shaped and defined, although his cheeks still carried a roundness that hinted at youthful innocence. "How old are you?" he asked, releasing your hand. "I'm ten," you answered proudly. "So am I!" he exclaimed, his first real show of enthusiasm, and the two of you grinned at each other. His mouth quirked up to one side, bespeaking a hint of mischief that was confirmed by the sparkling in his eyes that matched his bright smile. His whole face transformed when he smiled, illuminating his face and stretching his freckled cheeks adorably. "But which one of us is older?" you wondered, and you compared birthdays. "Yes!" John exclaimed triumphantly, pumping his fist in victory when he learned that he was a full two months older than you. "It's only two months, though," you griped, crossing your arms as you felt some of the pride rubbing off. "Yeah, but I'm older!" he exclaimed. "I'm always one of the youngest in my classes and now I won't be the very last one!" "Oh, stop," you said, cuffing him playfully on the shoulder. "You'd think you won the Olympics or something." "Maybe I did," he retorted playfully. "The being-older-than-your-neighbor event is my thing." "Whatever," you said, rolling your eyes. "So this is your house?" he asked, looking up at it. "Uh-huh!" you answered proudly. "We'll be almost right across the street from each other, then," he observed. "I know! We'll have lots of fun," you resolved. "John!" A voice interrupted your conversation. The man was crossing the street. "Time to go. We need your help moving some boxes." "Okay, Dad." he sighed. "This is (Y/N). She's our neighbor and she's my age right now, although I'm two months older." Mr. Laurens smiled at you. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he said. "I'm Henry Laurens. Thanks for being so welcoming. I know John was a little nervous that there wouldn't be any kids his age, but I guess that problem's solved, right, John?" "Yeah!" he responded. "Bye, (Y/N)! See you later!" "Okay! Friends?" you asked. "Friends." He smiled at you again before going back with his father. You smiled as you sat back on the porch. Summer just got a whole lot more interesting. ------ You didn't hear the conversation that went on between John and his father. "She's so nice, Dad, and friendly and pretty!" "I could tell, son. I'm glad you made a friend." Henry drew his son close to his side. "Yeah, me too." John couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. ❇❇❇summer two❇❇❇ You were lying next to John, your back against the firm wood of his tree house, which was really nothing more than a few planks nailed together to form a floor-like object which was placed in a crook of a tree. It was secured to the branch by nails and was surprisingly very comfortable. "I can't believe you haven't told me about this yet," you said, turning your head to look at him. "Yeah. It's pretty great, isn't it?" ​​​​​​ It was. The tree was a tall one and all sounds of other people faded, giving way to birdsong and the occasional humming insect. It was a hot day, but the heat faded, impeded by the canopy of leaves stretched out above the two of you. The sun would poke through at different times whenever the leaves would drift apart, lifted by the cool breeze wafting through the forest. All was peaceful and you smiled at the calm that filled you as you lay there, John by your side. "Those leaves over there remind me of your eyes," you said with all the innocence of an eleven-year-old, pointing over to a part of the forest that was dappled with shade. John hummed in agreement. That was one thing about John. The two of you could maintain perfect silence without it feeling awkward or strange. You could still understand each other just as well through words than you could through none. He always seemed to know what you were thinking and vice versa, which was one of the things that made him your best friend. He always understood. Even at this young age, you knew that that was important in any close friendship. John was special and you were glad to know him. He never failed to make you happy and bring a smile to your face. And as you thought of him, a stirring arose in your heart, a new, unfamiliar feeling that wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. You didn't know what it was, but the future was sure to tell. ❇❇❇summer three❇❇❇ "C'mon, John!" you exclaimed, pulling insistently on his arm. John and his parents had come over for dinner, and now the adults were just talking on the back porch which served as an eating area. You wanted no part in it—the fireflies were out tonight, and you had never seen so many. "Hey, that rhymes!" he quipped, smiling that smile you knew so well. "Wow, great observation." You rolled your eyes. "I know. Aren't you glad your best friend is brilliant?" "You're about as brilliant as—" you paused, trying unsuccessfully to think of something dull— "as, well, never mind. But let's go, please? Those fireflies are just waiting to be caught." "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Hey, Mom!" he called. "Yes, sweetheart?" Mrs. Laurens replied. "(Y/N) and I are gonna catch some fireflies." "All right. Have fun, you two." She gave you a sweet smile. "I'll get the jars," you told John. "I'm pretty sure we've got two with holes already punched in the top." You went inside and emerged in a few minutes, carrying a jar in each hand. "We should make this a competition of who can catch the most," John said, taking his jar and looking at you mischievously. "Oh, definitely. You're on," you said, matching his grin. "Ready—" you drew out the word. "Set..." "Go!" you yelled together, running in opposite directions to spots where the insects illuminated the night with their flashes of light. You found a great spot right away, and you quickly grabbed the small bugs and let them crawl off your fingers into your jar, slamming the lid down when they had entered fully. The bugs tickled as their feet made their way down your fingers, and you giggled at the sensation. "You're going down!" you heard John yell from somewhere in the yard. "Nuh-uh!" you retorted, continuing your mad dash through the grass. ------ As the two of you ran around the yard, your parents watched you with smiles on their faces. "They're such great friends," your mom said. "Yeah, they really have a special bond," agreed Mr. Laurens. "There's not a day that goes by that John doesn't talk about (Y/N). There's always something exciting with those two." "He better not steal her heart in a few years," inserted your dad, jokingly but also with a hint of seriousness. "Well, I'm afraid (Y/N)'s on her way to doing that with John," Mrs. Laurens said. "He always tells me how pretty she is, although he's never hinted at a crush." "Well, if I had to choose anyone for my son, it'd be your daughter," Mr. Laurens told your parents. "She's really a great girl." "We could say the same for John," your mother replied. "That he's a wonderful boy and all. Not that he's a great girl!" The four laughed and turned back to watching you and John. ------ "Okay, I think that's enough time," you called to him, breathing slightly heavier than normal. "Aw, are you just tired?" he teased, coming over to you. "No, but I bet you are," you shot back, trying to suppress your heavy breathing. "Nope!" he boasted, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. His curls were long enough to be put back in a short ponytail now, and you teased him about it occasionally. "Okay, well, let's count the other person's fireflies, and whoever wins gets the last two cookies," you said. ​​​​​​ "Sounds good," he replied, and you switched jars and began counting, which was a tricky job since the bugs kept crawling around and many were on the bottom of the lid so you had to tip the jar up to see them. "Fifty-one," you said when you had finished. John was just finishing up, his tongue stuck out slightly as he counted. "You have forty-two which means I won!" he shouted in joy. "All right, good job," you said, sticking out a hand. "A for effort." "Effort starts with E, stupid. Now let's go get your cookies," you replied, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "Sounds good to me," he said, yelling, "I won!" when the two of you reached your parents. "So he gets the last two cookies," you explained, giving the prizes to him. As he contemplated his reward in his hand, he looked up at you. "I'll give you one," he conceded. "I could never let my best friend go hungry." "I appreciate it," you said, and sat down on the steps, setting your jar next to you. John sat down as well. "We should probably let them go," he said, and you agreed, opening your jar as he did. The fireflies flew into the night, releasing light as they went, and you watched them go. John glanced over at you, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the bugs, and felt his heart expand inside him. What a best friend. ❇❇❇summer four ❇❇❇ The August afternoon was drawing on to evening, and a coolness stole into the air, barely noticeable but still there. Fall would come soon, along with school, and you wanted to savor every last second with John. He lifted his head from his sketchbook as a breeze blew through the trees at the edge of the forest, where the two of you were sitting on an old blanket that John's parents kept for picnics and outdoor use. You were still unaware of what he was drawing, and didn't hear the quick scribbling of his pencil as you looked upward at a few golden-tinged leaves that had fallen due to the wind. "It's so pretty out here," you said, turning back to look at him. He was drawing a long, curving line but that was all you could tell as he had his sketchbook tilted away from you. "Mhm," he replied absentmindedly, a look of intense concentration on his face. He had a certain habit when he was drawing—he would bite his lip on one side and poke out his tongue on the other. You never figured out how he did it, and it was one of the endless unique things that made him John. As you watched his pencil move, his eyes flicked upwards to yours and you looked away quickly, your heart racing inexplicably. You had noticed that you seemed more shy around John. He was still your best friend and closer to you than anyone else, but something was changing. He wasn't the same boy anymore. His cheeks were still sprinkled with freckles, but they had lost much of their roundness, showing hints of defined cheekbones. His hair had grown out to a bit longer than shoulder length, and was usually tied back in a ponytail. He had grown nearly a foot in the past three years and now stood a full head taller than you, a fact he never failed to tease you about. He'd call you "small one" often, to which you would cross your arms and pout. He was growing up remarkably, and you couldn't help but think that he was getting handsomer every day. Although you didn't want to believe it, you could feel yourself becoming attracted to him and hated yourself for it. He's your best friend, you'd think. What's wrong with you? But all the berating in the world couldn't stop your feelings from developing more and more. "They're still not right," you heard him mutter, breaking you out of your thoughts. "What?" "The eyes. They're not right." He turned his sketchbook towards you and you gasped. There on the page were five sketches of your head and upper body in different positions, and they looked as if they could have come from real life. Everything was perfectly proportioned, and you marveled at how he could add such reality to the images with just a few lines of shading. "John," you breathed. He looked at you, hopefully, a hint of anxiety in his eyes. "Do you like them?" he asked, genuinely nervous. "Oh my god. They're beyond words," you said, still looking at them with awe. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I just couldn't get your eyes right on this one," he said, pointing to a sketch of you looking up. "There's a certain light in them that I just can't duplicate." You looked at his face next to you, inches away. "I think they're amazing." He smiled at you, no hint of cockiness or self-assurance, just a warm smile that heated your cheeks. "Thank you," he said. "No, thank you," you answered. "Wow!" "Ah, it was nothing, just a few sketches." He rubbed the back of his neck as he tapped his pencil almost nervously on his leg. "I'm just glad you like them." Hit with a sudden impetuous desire, you threw your arms around him. He hugged back after a moment, clearly surprised, and you smiled at the feeling, the rightness of it. "You're the best," you whispered. "No, you are." "I'll fight you." A laugh, a change in tone. "Whatever you say, small one." ❇❇❇summer five❇❇❇ "But it's so cold," you complained. "(Y/N), it's sixty-three degrees. That hardly qualifies as cold," John answered you with a shake of his curls. "It does when it's summer and there's no sun. It feels like forty degrees and I don't care what you say it really is." You crossed your arms and shivered, even as you were standing on John's screened-in back porch. "So you insist on not coming." "Not if I'm going to freeze my butt off!" He sighed. "Fine, wait here. I'll be right back." He vanished into the house and you stood there alone, tapping your bare foot on the wooden boards. You heard him coming down the stairs a few moments later and he came out the door with something in hand. "What's that for?" "You. It's just one of my old sweatshirts you can wear so you're not as cold. It's got fleece on the inside, see?" You felt the shirt and agreed to put it on, your heart warming even as your body did. It smelled like John, a hint of lemons swirled in with cotton. It came well to your mid-thigh area and the sleeves enveloped your hands, forcing you to push them up a bit. "Thanks, John," you told him. He was looking at you in his sweatshirt and seemed to snap out of a trance as you spoke. "Oh, yeah, anything for you," he said, ruffling your hair. "You look nice in it." "Yeah, right. As if I look nice in anything," you said, rolling your eyes. "You do. Y'know, I almost got you a pair of my sweatpants since you seemed to be the most concerned with freezing your butt off, but somehow I deemed that inappropriate." The soft look in his eyes was briefly replaced with a hint of their usual roguish gleam. "Perv. Now let's go look at the freaking stars because you wanted to." You bumped him with your shoulder and smiled at him. "I think you secretly want to look at the stars as well," he teased, holding the patio door open for you. "Thank you. And maybe, maybe not. You'll never know." (You did.) The two of you stepped into the night, shivering slightly as you did so. The stars were bright and shed a soft light on John's wide backyard. You picked a spot and lay down on the grass. "Ooh, look, the Big Dipper!" you cried softly, pointing at the constellation above you. John smiled at the wonder reflected in your star-lit eyes. "There's the North Star," he replied, and thought that even though he had seen these basic constellations a million times before, they had never been quite so shining and clear as when you were there next to him. After a few minutes of picking out the images in the sky, you remarked, "I'm still cold." "C'mere, then," John answered, and drew you close. The warmth from his body seeped into yours as fingers of electricity washed over your body at the contact. He felt amazing and right, and you closed your eyes as you leaned against him. ​​​​​His heart was beating; you could hear it, and his chest rose and fell gently. He looked down at your form and sat there with you, the girl who made the stars shine brighter. ❇❇❇summer six❇❇❇ You looked at John warily. "You want me to ride in this? You literally got your license two days ago." Your voice was teasing. "And it was well-deserved. C'mon, (Y/N), just for a bit? It'll only take a few minutes and the sun will start setting soon anyway." "I'm just kidding. Of course I'll go." "Ah, so you do trust me." "Shut up and drive, Laurens." He made his way to the passenger door and held it open for you, making a sweeping gesture that was coupled with a mock bow. "My lady," he said. "Oh, stop." Your heart was secretly bursting within you at the chivalrous action, however lightly it was meant. John closed the door after you and walked to the driver's side. "Are you ready for the time of your life?" he asked you. "Ready as I'll ever be," you told him, and he turned the key in the ignition. "Then let's go." And with that, he pulled out of his driveway. ------ ​​​​​​There was a road near your neighborhood that was mostly used for drivers' ed purposes. Since it was nearly school, classes in your community had ended and the road was empty. It was surrounded by trees on both sides and a few faint birds could still be heard deep inside the trees. As John turned onto the road, he looked at you with a smirk before stepping on the gas. "Oh my god, John!" you screamed as your hair was whipped every which way. "You're going sixty miles an hour!" "I know." "Just be careful!" you cried, even as a joyous whoop escaped you. John looked over at you again, and his heart flipped over. You were laughing, mouth wide open, and your hair was blowing around your face, tinted slightly by the now-setting sun. As you turned to look back at him, your cheeks were flushed and your hair was a mess, but John had never seen you look more beautiful. His gaze moved down your face, and he was unable to get enough of you. "Eyes on the road," you quipped. "Ah, yes, right," he nodded. "But I'd rather look at my beautiful best friend than a black stretch of asphalt." "Shut up," you told him, shocked inwardly at the compliment. "Watching the road will actually keep you alive." "Maybe I need you to live as well," he murmured. "What?" "Nothing." ❇❇❇summer seven❇❇❇ Every year, the Mulligans and Motiers, two families in your neighborhood, would get together and have a huge party. They would play music cranked up as loud as possible, and was audible on the other side of the subdivision, where you and John lived. Miraculously, none of the numerous complaints would deter them from their fun, and so the whole neighborhood suffered in unison for one long night. Tonight was the oh-so-joyful occasion, and you had invited John over, knowing that having him next to you was the only thing that would keep your sanity in one piece. He had had dinner with your family and the two of you were out in your backyard, where an old swingset stood. You were sitting on one, swinging your legs softly back and forth while John sat next to you, listening absentmindedly to the music while catching glimpses of you whenever you weren't looking. The current song ended and another began. "I love this song!" you cried, instantly recognizing "I Saw Her Standing There" by the Beatles. Well, she was just seventeen You know what I mean And the way she looked was way beyond compare "You're seventeen. Fancy that," said John. "And I must admit that you do look nice tonight." You looked down at your old clothes with a skeptical glance. "Yeah, right." "May I have this dance?" He held out a hand to you. "Of course." So how could I dance with another When I saw her standing there? You giggled as John twirled you around the yard, slowing when you were out of breath. He stepped with you slowly, your speed rapidly decreasing and then stopping altogether as you looked up at him to see him gazing down at you. Well she looked at me And I, I could see That before too long I'd fall in love with her She wouldn't dance with another Oh, when I saw her standing there "(Y/N)," he whispered, softer than you knew anyone could ever speak. "Y-yes?" "May I kiss you?" A shocked silence. "Of course." You finally overcame your shock. He bent down and you felt his breath on your cheek. And with a soft tilt forward, he captured your lips with his and the only thing that existed was him. It was pure and perfect and everything you had imagined and wanted it to be. As you pulled apart, you whispered, "I love you." "I think I loved you ever since I saw how adorable you were when you were mad at me being older," John confessed, rubbing his thumb gently over your bottom lip. You looked into his eyes, saw the love, the pure emotion, and knew you needed him, needed him desperately. He drew you in again, and the music was forgotten. ❇❇❇summer eight❇❇❇ "I can't believe this. Summer reading? Especially Shakespeare summer reading?" John lamented. "Well, some people actually like Romeo and Juliet and consider it a literary masterpiece," you commented. "And I happen to be one of them." "My own girlfriend," he groaned. After a year of owning that title, it never failed to give you butterflies when hearing it. The two of you were sitting in a clearing of his forest, and the sun shone in a dappled pattern on your languishing forms. "You should really get started on it," you told him. "I suppose you're already done." "I, for one, do not procrastinate." "Well, then, you leave me no choice but to begin." "You should read it to me." "Anything for you," he said, cupping the back of your neck and kissing your forehead before lying down and placing his head on your lap. "It'll be more comfortable this way." And with that, he began to read, and you listened to the voice you loved best read the classic tale of love. After the first act, your hands were begging for something to do, and so you gently pulled at his hair tie, releasing his long, bouncy curls which floated freely at their leisure. You wove your fingers through them, feeling their lush softness and kissing his shiny locks every now and then. After a few minutes, you parted his hair into three sections and began braiding, picking a few flowers to finish off the woven hairstyle. He was now at the balcony scene, your favorite part, and he paused. "You be Juliet. I'll read Romeo," he said. You laughed and held the book with him, your fingers entwining. The words were interrupted often for a kiss or two, and he smiled at you, thinking that you were the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth. He finished the scene, and sat up slightly, running his fingers along the curves of your neck while you kissed his freckled cheeks. "How'd I ever get you?" he asked in pure, breathless wonder. You simply smiled before kissing him deeply, eliciting small noises from his throat. The book was pushed aside as he sat up fully, setting you on his lap. "I love you," you said. "And I you." And there you were, young and with your lives ahead of you. The future was yet unknown, but you could face it together as long as you were by each other's side. You looked into his eyes and both of you thought that you had never felt such perfect happiness. 

[iamthechocobabe]

We All Have Battle Scars

It’s time for this fucker to be closed. Does that sound sexual to you?

We All Have Battle Scars A PromptoXOC Soulmate AU based on We Intertwined ~Chapter 22~ SFW Word Count: 3,242

Alaea sat in her cot as she helped out in the only way she knew how without having to move too much-sorting through missing persons posters. Three days had gone by with no sun and the people of the world were going into permanent distress and flocking to Lestallum, as it was one of the only places that managed to still have electricity and protection. A giant billboard had been placed in the center of Lestallum, a place for people to put up missing persons posters in case they had seen or knew of the fate of others' loved ones. People had been approaching Alaea all day, despite her still being incredibly sore, dropping hand made posters, fliers, the like into her waiting hands so Alaea could compare them to seen bodies and people who were declared dead to see if any matched and put those that didn't match up later in the evening. 

As Alaea continued to sort through the papers, she realized that a missing person flier matched a declared body of a little girl just outside of Old Lestallum. Alaea's stomach turned as she put it into the 'declared' pile so bounty hunter's could go inform the families of their loved ones fate. 

Alaea didn't envy that job. 

"How's it going?" 

Gina approached Alaea's cot, carrying a large, flat square box that Alaea could see tissue paper poking out of its side. Setting it down on the cot, Gina picked up the stack of declared posters, though there were only a few. "How old was she?" Gina asked, referring to the little girl on the top of the stack. 

"Six," 

"Fuck me," Gina ran her hand through her hair, gripping it tightly and yanking on it out of frustration. "I had to be put on notification detail today, of all days. Astrals help us," 

Alaea shook her head, fighting the tears. "The sun's not coming back up, is it?" 

"Scientist's are saying no," Gina sat down on the cot with Alaea and rubbed her own tears out of her eyes. "I used to love being a bounty hunter, but that's because Dave would handle the death notifications. Now there's too many for him to handle on his own," 

"Do you think Lestallum will be able to hold out on its own?" 

"Gods, I hope so," 

Alaea stretched as she continued to sort-she'd pick up a flier and then look at a list the hunter's had provided with descriptions of people they had found to be declared dead, seeing if the description matched the picture on the flier. When it didn't match anything, she would put it to the 'missing' pile so it could be copied and placed on bulletin boards in other working outposts, including Meldacio HQ. Sorting the last flier, Alaea rubbed her back from being in a bent position for so long. 

"How are you feeling?" Gina asked, trying to find something, anything, to change the subject of the dark world right outside the newly built wall. 

"Not as bad as before," Alaea said, rubbing her still sore arms and glanced at the torn photo of Prompto she kept propped against a book at the little bedside table they provided to some of the cots. "Just sore now...do you think that means he's still alive?" 

"Your guess is as good as mine," 

"You know, you are a bit of a downer," Alaea smirked, partially kidding on her aunt's consistent glumness. Then again, it was hard not to be glum now. 

"Notification detail can do that to a person," Gina smiled, then glanced down at the square box, still on the bed. "That reminds me-here," 

"What's this?" Alaea put the large box in her lap; it wasn't heavy, but was still large enough cover her whole lap as she lifted the top of the box gently to discover a layer of tissue paper. Parting it gently, she frowned in confusion as she lifted the article of clothing out of the box and unfolded it so she could look at it in full form. "Is this...a dress? Wait-" Alaea looked more closely when she realized that she recognized the dress, had seen it somewhere before. 

"It was Gayle's," Gina pulled a stray thread off the dress. "More specifically, her wedding dress-I had one of the other hunter's bring it when they came to Lestallum so I could give it to you," 

"Oh," Alaea liked wedding dresses as much as any little girl did, but grew out of it as she got older. But looking at the white dress made Alaea's inner little girl come out when she saw how pure white the dress still was, even after years of being in a box. It stretched down to the floor with a full skirt that had tiny lilac, lavender and pink flowers along the bottom with silver glitter, showing off the bodice that was a form of a corset with pearl buttons down the back and a sweet heart neckline-the sleeves were a sheer fabric with lace trimming at the elbow that was edged with a lavender colored thread.  

"It's beautiful," Alaea breathed. "Didn't think my mom would have such...modest taste. I would have expected something big and gaudy," 

Gina snorted. "I know, right? Wiz bought the dress for her and she hated the damn thing-I didn't think it was that bad, but Gayle just wore it so she could go along with...well..." Gina trailed off without mentioning Gayle's true intentions. "She gave it to me after the wedding, said she didn't want it-I was going to sell it, but I never did. Don't know why," 

"Well, why are you giving it to me now?" 

Gina shrugged. "World's gone to shit. Figured maybe you'd better have it, it's a miracle I haven't lost it all these years," 

"And, what, you think I'm gonna need it soon?" 

"In the next few years, give or take," 

Alaea laughed, glancing at the torn picture once again. "I think I love him," 

"Ali, I know you do-I think everyone around you knows," 

Alaea laughed again, having no strength to fight the tears as they flowed freely down her cheeks, so she carefully put the dress back in the box and shoved it under her cot so she wouldn't get any tears on it. Leaning against her pillow, she hugged her knees to her chest and let the tears and sobs come, too weak to fight them away. "Great-everyone knew but me...and I was too much of a chickenshit to tell him how I felt," 

"We're all chickenshits when it comes to love," 

"And if I never get to tell him-" 

"You will," Gina patted Alaea's sneaker softly. "You'll get to tell him-trust me," 

"What happened to 'he shouldn't have made a promise he couldn't keep'?"

"I took my anti-bitch medication today," Gina stood up and swung the backpack that had her hunting gear on, grabbing the list of confirmed dead with a grim look. 

"Give me some of those pills sometime, would you?" 

Gina smirked. "You have to have a prescription," 

"Fuck you,"  

"Swear jar," 

"Double fuck you, I don't have any money," 

"Well, shit," Gina and Alaea laughed together and Alaea felt...so relieved, knowing that Gina wasn't as bad as her mother had been. Alaea had always dreamed of laughing together with her own mom-even if Gina wasn't what Alaea had pictured, it still felt nice to laugh together with someone when the world was slowly going to shit. 

"Almost forgot," Gina reached into her backpack and pulled out an object that was slightly bigger than her hand. "Don't ask me why, but I grabbed this before we left. I saw it and the next thing I knew, it was in my hands and in my backpack," 

Alaea took the object and immediately recognized her metronome, the happy and preppy Chocobo stickers still covering it from when she put them on as a kid. She fiddled with the pendulum bar and looked back up at Gina. "Are you trying to bribe me into forgiving you?" 

Gina shrugged. "Is it working?" 

"I don't know yet," 

"Right, well..." Gina held up the list. "Duty calls-take it easy, okay?" 

"Sure," Alaea paused, but spoke up again before Gina left the tent. "Gina?" When Gina turned back around, Alaea smiled at her. "You don't have to bribe me or anything-I already forgive you," 

Shock crossed Gina's face before she closed her eyes a bit and rubbed one of her eyes with a closed fist. "Th-thanks, Ali. I'll come back to check on you later, okay?" 

"Yeah," 

Gina left and Alaea was left to the soft snores, talks and crying of the other people in the tent with Alaea-but at that moment, Alaea only could think of one thing to do, one thing to bring herself hope and peace. 

Placing the metronome on the bedside table and grabbing the picture of Prompto, she gently pushed the pendulum bar so it would begin ticking back and forth.

Prompto didn't want to believe it-didn't want to look outside the car as they drove to the Chocobo Outpost to check on Alaea and Wiz, moutains from the Duscae area black in the distance. 

But it was true. 

The sun hadn't come up since Noctis went into the crystal-and daemon's now ran the world, swarming and attacking anything that moved an inch, including cars. Prompto felt numb after Noctis was absorbed into the crystal, his best friend and brother gone for who knew how long. When Aranea found the three running for their lives just outside Tenebrae, she brought them back and helped them get back to Lucis and into a truck by the Bounty Hunter's and Prompto had to practically twist the driver's arm to get him to stop at the Chocobo outpost along with way. 

"Will you relax? She's fine," Gladio grumbled from the front seat and Prompto knew he was worried about Iris, hoping she was alright. 

"I know she is," Prompto barked back, but still had to fight the urge to tell the driver to speed up. He wanted to make sure, had to make sure she was alright...

And then...he would have to tell her. 

Tell her his true origins. 

"What's she gonna say when I tell her?" Prompto asked softly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as the passed Coernix station. 

"About your...past?" Ignis said and thought carefully before answering. "Alaea never struck me as the type to push someone away because of where they were from or their past. I don't see her doing the same to you," 

Prompto shook his head as he continued to stare out the window. "She's gonna hate me," 

Gladio slugged Prompto's shoulder slightly, partially to encourage him and partially getting him to quit wallowing. "She won't," 

When they finally reached the Outpost, Prompto tore himself out of the truck, despite it not coming to a full stop yet and looked on, feeling his heart stop at the sight before him. 

The house combined with the resturant was now in complete shambles, only a few walls standing in the foundation. Furniture, clothes, all sorts of items from the house littered the yard and driveway as a few daemon's sniffed around, looking for anything with a pulse to kill. 

"They got out," Prompto whispered to himself, convincing himself more than anything else. "They had to get out-they had to," 

Prompto didn't even flinch as he shot a goblin right in the head, killing it on sight as he hastily walked where the front door would have been, shining his flashlight around to check for anyone that would have looked familiar. Anyone that shouldn't have been there. 

Prompto went into Alaea's room and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the shoebox that had all of her mementos on her bed, still intact and grabbed it without thinking, seeing that some of the contents had spilled onto the floor. After scooping them up, Prompto joined Gladio and Ignis outside the house as they had finished combing the Chocobo pens and the area outside the Outpost. 

"Any sign of her?" 

"None," Gladio said. "They probably escaped before they were overrun," 

The driver, who was constantly checking around for any daemon's, looked back at the three. "Yeah, they took any evacuees to Lestallum before the sun went down for the last time," 

Prompto turned when the driver said that, fighting the urge to kill him at the fact that he hadn't said that earlier. Without saying anything, Prompto shoved past the driver, walked to the truck and climbed in. "Are we going or what?" he snapped as the three stood there and stared at him.

"Grouchy today," Gladio mumbled.

Prompto approached a checkpoint that had been set up just outside of Lestallum, his fear and angst making him ansty as they got into the line to get into the city. Seeing one of the hunter's checking the people in line to try and keep the peace, Prompto stopped the young woman who was a little taller than him with black hair that had blue highlights that stood out, even under her grey beanie cap. 

"How long is it gonna take?" 

The girl shook her head. "I'm sorry, it's probably gonna be another few hours," 

"Gods," Prompto ran his hand through his hair out of frustration before focusing on the girl again. "Maybe you can help me-I'm looking for someone-" 

"I'm sorry," The girl shook her head, clearly used to people begging her for information on loved ones in Lestallum. "I don't have any information on that, you're going to have to check with the information people once you get into the city," 

Without thinking, Prompto reached out and grabbed onto the woman's arm out of complete desperation, knowing he seemed needy and desperate, but not caring. "Please," he begged. "Please, her name's Alaea; she has long brown hair and has a burn scar on the left side of her face, neck and chest. She's the daughter of Wiz Thorin, the guy who owned the Chocobo Outpost nearby," 

"Chocobo-" The girl stopped and stared at the blonde boy with wide eyes that were such a dark brown that they almost looked black. "Holy shit-Prompto Argentum?" 

Prompto paused in confusion, but nodded. 

"Oh, my-I can't believe you're really..." glancing behind her, the girl bit her lip before leading the three out of the line and towards the checkpoint side entrance. "I'm not supposed to have anyone skip the line unless it's a medical emergency, but she's been going out of her mind worrying about you," 

"You know where she is?" Prompto asked, feeling hopeful. 

"Not exactly, but she is in the city," 

Prompto wanted to drop down the ground and cry out of relief, but forced himself to stay collected as they entered Lestallum, the formerly peaceful city now chaotic and crowded with large green tents around town. 

"Gladdy!" 

Iris and Cor were nearby the lookout that was now used as a hunter base when they spotted the three. Iris ran to Gladio and hugged him tightly as Cor approached the three with a relieved look on his face that turned into a frown when he noticed someone missing. 

"The prince?" Cor asked softly. 

"He was absorbed into the crystal," Ignis said softly and the group turned deathly quiet at the news. 

"You mean...he's..." Iris' eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth in horror. Gladio pat her shoulder, knowing her deep affection for the prince and glanced at Prompto. 

"We'll go with Cor and inform him of what happened," Gladio said softly. "You go and find Alaea," 

Prompto nodded out of relief and started to head into the main part of the city. "Thanks," he called over his shoulder as he began to open green tents, poking his head in and looking for anyone familiar. 

When Prompto reached the center of the city, he stopped when he saw a giant billboard that had missing person fliers all over it, of family friends, loved ones. The few pictures of children made Prompto shudder as he gazed at the photos, wondering if he'd seen anyone that would match the description. 

That's when he heard it. 

When the night has come And the land is dark,  And the moon is the only light we'll see,

Prompto almost froze at the beautiful song he heard, the low and resonating voice rippling through the air like gentle ocean waves, making anyone who heard it stop in their paths to listen. 

No, I won't be afraid, Oh, I won't be afraid,  Just as long as you stand, stand by me. 

Prompto felt tears in his eyes as he followed the singing voice, recognizing it almost instantly. He loved this song, though it was usually sang with a more peppy, upbeat tune rather than the slow tune that the voice sang, but he discovered he loved it more when it was slow and soothing, like a lullaby to a baby. 

So darlin', darlin' stand by me, Oh, stand by me Oh, stand now, Stand by me,  Stand by me. 

Prompto continued to follow the song, people around him stopped as well to listen to the soft and soothing voice as it continued to sing, the formerly busy and chaotic street now slow and calm, as if the music somehow calmed them. 

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall, Or the mountain should crumble to the sea. I won't cry, I won't cry, No, I won't shed a tear, Just as long as you stand, stand by me.

Prompto stopped in front of the green tent, knowing that this is where the voice was and opened the flap gently-a small group of people were crowding around the back right corner of the tent and Prompto approached softly, wanting to curl up into one of these cots and sleep due to the soft singing voice of the girl in the corner. 

He knew that girl. 

And darling, darling stand by me Oh, stand by me Oh, stand now,  Stand by-

The voice stopped suddenly and a few people were shoved away to reveal the reason Prompto fought to get back, the person who made him happier than he'd ever been in his life, the person he had fallen in love with and felt he would love her until the day he died, possibly longer than that. 

Alaea looked as beautiful as when he'd left, her long golden brown hair in a loose ponytail, her bangs framing her beautiful face and smile that no scar in this world or the next could falter, her casual sweater and shorts and long, toned legs. 

And when she smiled that beautiful smile that he loved, Prompto knew he was home. 

Prompto reached into his wallet without breaking eye contact with Alaea and pulled out his torn half of the whole picture, showing it to Alaea. "I promised,"

Crying, Alaea held up her own torn half of the picture and sniffed loudly, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her sweater before saying what she had wanted to say before he left, but had been too afraid to. 

"I love you," 

So, Prompto found no reason not to reach out to Alaea in three strides and grab onto her to latch his lips onto hers, refusing to let her come up for air even as people around them applauded and hollered at their reunion.

[frozenbullies]

The Curse

A short story I wrote for a class last year. 

it’s about anxiety and witches and heartbreak and curses and picking up the pieces .

under the cut

Dining hall eggs are the worst food imaginable. They’re crumbly, yellow blobs that can’t help but be off putting. But, then again, Aislin thought as she shoveled another forkful into her mouth, anything is edible if you put enough hot sauce on it.

“That stuff’ll kill your stomach, you know that right?” Jasmin said as she wrinkled her roman nose and picked up the bottle of Sriracha. “Eats the lining. Makes you sick.”

Aislin rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” She didn’t need any help with feeling nauseous, but continued eating anyway. After all, what did Jasmin know? It’s not like they taught organ care in Econ201 or anything.

Claire nodded and her bleach-blonde ponytail jiggled emphatically.

“You know.” Claire took the Sriracha from Jasmin. “It almost looks like your hair, hun. It’s kinda the same red.”

“God, can we just not talk about my hair?” Aislin said.

“Well, I told you not to buy the cheap stuff.”

“Oh man. Forget the hair,” Jasmin interrupted, leaning into the table so far that her glasses fell down the bridge of her nose. “Dan’s over by the soda machine.”

Aislin froze, a gob of hot sauce stuck in her throat as it slowly burned. Oh god. Why’d he have to come to this dining hall? Jefferson was way closer to his dorm. Oh god. Did he see her? Should she leave? Was she going to be sick again? Oh god, oh god.

“You’re good,” Claire patted Aislin’s shoulder. “He went around the corner. You can look up now.”

Aislin swallowed dryly, trying to soothe her nerves and rest her runaway heartrate as Claire loomed sympathetically.

“Don’t baby her!” Jasmine snapped as she pushed her frames back up. “She’s a grown woman not a child. Besides, after what he did she should be over there yellin’ at him, not sitting here crying.”

Aislin winced.

“Oh shut up, Jasmin. She’s fine. You’re making a big deal over nothing.”

“Me? She’s the one acting like a crybaby! If I’d acted like this when Curtis dumped me I’d have died of embarrassment.”

“Can you two just shut up? Please?” Aislin said.

Claire shot Jasmine a look and they both sighed, arms crossed.

“Fine. Besides,” Jasmine lowered her voice, “Get a load of this kid behind you,” Claire and Aislin craned dramatically to look over their shoulders.  

The tall figure walked by the booth section, Doc Martin boots clunking as they passed, one hand in the pocket of their jean-jacket and the other holding a plate of pancakes. Aislin blinked, watching their dark, effortlessly tossed bangs bounce lightly with each step as they approached a table full of seniors and graduate students where everyone welcomed them enthusiastically.

She turned back to her plate and tried to stomach the nerve to pick up another forkful as Claire laughed in a hushed voice. “Did you see that jacket? Who wears denim anymore? And those patches! I saw, like, two different ones with animal skulls!”

“What a try-hard!” Jasmin laughed. “She’s such a joke.”

“She? That’s a guy, Jazz.”

 “No way. The hair?”

  “It’s 2016. Guys can have good hair. Get with the times.”

“Whatever.”

“Either way.” Claire shrugged, “They’re an eyesore. Who’s even goth these days anyway?”

“They aren’t goth. I hear they’re like a witch or something.” Jasmin took a sip from her mug.

“Are you kidding me?” Aislin said.

“No, I’m not. Apparently they put a curse on the Chemistry professor that was here before Dr. Kessig. Made him go crazy. He was, like, forced to retire by the dean or something.

“You mean Dr. Lowell? He had Mercury poisoning, Jazz.”

“Mercury? You really believe that?”

“The man was alive when dinosaurs roamed the earth! He probably was around when schools still let you play with the damn stuff. I mean really, witchcraft?” Claire scoffed. “Who told you that superstitious nonsense?”

“Sera Joplin.”

Claire launched into a long-winded recount of every shady story Sera had given them since freshman orientation. But, as the two bickered, Aislin’s attention had already wandered back across the dining hall to the table where the black-haired person sat, smirking lightly at their phone as the rest of the colorful group exploded into a roar of laughter. A brown, wide-shouldered girl in a lacrosse jersey clapped them on the shoulder, starling them out of their phone-coma. They looked up to group and smiled. They seemed happy, if not a bit distracted. They didn’t look like a witch. Still, there was something about them. An almost unsettling energy. Something a bit more volatile than just confidence or style. For a second, Aislin could have sworn she saw one of the snakes on their patches move.

“Aislin. Aislin!”

“You ok, hun?” Claire said.  

Running sweaty fingers through her auburn hair she nodded. How long had she been staring? She looked down to her fingertips, red-brown dye mixed with the sweat to stain each one. Fuck. This really was cheap dye.

“Was it Dan?” Claire lifted her chin to look back in the general direction he had walked away in. “Did you see him again? Do you wanna leave? It’s cool if you do.”

She’d almost forgotten he was in here somewhere. Fuck. “Yeah,” she nodded and started to pack up. “Let’s just go to the library.”

--

The Frederick Douglass Library, unlike the Montelcini Library, was never full on a Saturday. Despite having been designed like an avant garde prison by some brutalist in the 70’s, it was a blessing to students who actually wanted to study. Stale air seeped off of books far older than any tenured professor and pale light filtered in through thin window slits, casting barcode shadows along the pale tile floor. Every few feet a metal table or two stood shakily and on every floor there were gardens of study cubicles. But, only the obsessed or seriously desperate students ever used those.

Aislin and her friends were neither and thusly avoided the cubicles in preference for a table in the center of the main room on the second floor. She tapped her pen to a scrawling list of zoology vocab, her four-pound textbook leaned against Claire’s blue bookbag as she read. Acari, the subclass forming ticks and mites. Agorius, the genus of jumping spiders. Aislin winced, Dan had always hated spiders.

She looked up from her work to notice someone in a denim jacket walking behind Jasmin and Claire. Aislin craned her neck to see as they turned the corner and caught a glimpse of a snake and dog skull patch. She glanced back to her work, and to the anatomical sketch of the arachnid body in her textbook, then to the corner again as she stood up. Jasmin asked where she was going and she muttered something about the restroom before rushing around the bookshelves in search of the student in the jacket.

They were sitting at a window-side table, alone and just starting to plug in their sticker-plastered laptop.

Aislin walked over and stopped at the opposite end of the table.

They looked up, their dark eyebrows arched as they looked her up and down. “Can I help you?”

“Um…” Aislin said, taking a seat. “I think so. I mean, umm… Could you, like, teach me how to do, like, witchcraft?”

“Is this how you start all your conversations?” they said.

“Oh, geez, sorry. I’m Aislin. Sophomore.”

“Leigh. Second year grad student.”

Oh. Wow. A grad student. But he- she? -looked so young. “Is that L-e-e? Or L-e-a-h?”

“Does it matter?”

She looked once more to their formless chest and unisex haircut. “Kinda?” her voice cracked.

“L-e-i-g-h. And before you ask what I know you’re trying to- don’t. I’m nonbinary, so just use they/them pronouns and call it a day, alright, Red?”

“Sure…” Red? God, this hair really had been a mistake. “Anyway, yeah.” Aislin tapped her thumbs together. “Witchcraft. Is there like, a book of spells or anything like that you can lend me?”

“No. Can’t you just go google it?”

“No. No, I need to curse someone. I’m thinking something with, like, spiders? Can you do that? Or teach me how to do that? Like, how does this work?”

Leigh leaned in close, a small smattering of pale freckles under their dark eyes as they lowered their voice. “Ok.”

Aislin mirrored them, red strands of her long bob falling from behind her ears.

“First, you get a jar.”

Aislin nodded.

“You go out in the middle of the night.”

She leaned further in.

“And you collect two hundred spiders to set loose in their dorm room.” Leigh leaned back into their seat with crossed arms.

“I’m serious,” she said.

“So am I,” they opened their laptop. “Now, if that’s all you wanted, I have a thesis to write.”

--

It snowed that night. It snowed and the next morning Aislin got a C- on her Zoology quiz. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t study. The first snowfall had been a long time coming. People were saying it was the hottest December on record. Still, everyone had settled into their winter wear like they did every year, becoming easily recognizable by their trademark winter jackets. But, for some reason, Aislin just didn’t peg Leigh as the puffy coat type. Everywhere she went for the next two days Aislin found herself searching the crowd for any hint of denim. Each flash of washed blue caught her eye as white filled in the world’s corners. She finally found it one afternoon, walking up to the Rosalind Life Sciences building, Doc Martins clicking against the pavement. “Hey!” She shouted, trying to catch up. “Leigh!”

They turned slowly, delicate flecks of snow peppered against their black hair as they took a long breath. “I’m fresh out of spiders, Red,” they warned, hands in pockets.

“I just wanna know.” She said. “There has to be another way. Right?”

Leigh glowered at her, folding their arms.

“To curse someone, I mean. Like, can’t I make, like, a voodoo doll or burn an effigy or cast the evil eye or something like that?”

Leigh shrugged, “You tell me, man.”

“I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You seem to have it all pretty figured out.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You sure?”  

“Yes.”

“You sure you’re sure?”

Aislin’s face grew red. “Yes! I’m not the fucking witch here, okay! You are!” she shouted, her hot breath taking shape in frigid air between them.

Leigh stiffened, a wild flash in their eyes. They exhaled loudly, picking up the shoulders of their jacket and shaking off the snow with a quick flick as they turned to leave.

“Leigh….” Aislin whimpered, stepping towards them with hand outstretched, grasping. “Leigh, I’m sorry.” They looked over their shoulder, eyes like black ice. Aislin stopped. Hesitated. Felt a snowflake fall onto her lashes. Watched two more join the pale freckles on Leigh’s cheek.

They opened the door to the building. “I have research.”

Aislin watched as they closed the door firmly behind them. She stood, stunned by their glare and the calm injury they’d had in their voice.

What if Leigh wasn’t a witch?

Aislin felt her stomach sink, convulsing itself into rapid, sickening knots. She glanced to her watch, to the dye on her fingers, tapping her foot as she sighed and crossed her arms. A puff of warm air hung from her lips like cotton. She stared at the door, at the corner Leigh had turned, and she groaned, opening the door to race in.

“Leigh!” she called, turning the blind corner. “Leigh, wait! Lei-“she collided with a tall figure, muttering ‘sorry’ as she took a step back to collect her bearings.

“Hey

“Its fine, Dan. Really.” She brushed away his hand. Her eyes were fixed on his scuffed up gym shoes, never daring to look up.  

He smelled like Old Spice and her stomach lurched.

“Wow. Your hair is really red,” he said. “I thought Curtis was exaggerating.”

“Yeah… it’s red.”

“So, how’ve you been? It’s so good to see you!”

“Fine.” Not fine. The room was spinning. She placed a hand against the wall. How could he possibly think this was fine? What kind of guy dumps a girl via drunk text after almost two years and then thinks its ok to pretend like everything’s fine?

“Good… good. Hey, I’ve gotta go but it was really nice running into you.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

               The acrid smell of Old Spice lingered even after he left. Faint, like how it used to hang onto his letter jacket when she wore it to class, or how it would waft gently when he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist as he whispered ‘I love you.’ I love you. I love you…

               Another wave of nausea clawed at her closing throat and Aislin rushed down the hall towards the restroom. As she reached for the handle the door pulled away. She stepped back, looking up to familiar dark eyes.

“I thought I told you I’m busy,” Leigh said, sidestepping around Aislin.

“Sorry. I’m just… trying to find a place to hide for a bit.”

“What? From the goblins and ghouls?”

“From my ex.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… He went in that room over there.” She pointed.

Leigh looked over to the heavy door. “106? Do you mean Kayne Arely?”

“No... Daniel Fontaine. “

“Oh.” They sneered, paused, and then sighed, defeated. “Come on. You can hide in the lab.”

Leigh ushered her into a bright room. Machinery blinked and whirred while laptops ran loading programs. Everything smelled like rubbing alcohol. Tanks lined the wall in racks and shelves, inside swam tiny schools of fish.

Aislin watched as Leigh pulled a chair from behind a wide wooden desk and offered it to her, along with a pair of goggles. Said that their adviser would be furious if she didn’t wear them.

“Thanks.” She said. “I mean, really. Thank you.”

               “No problem.” Leigh said. They slipped out of their denim jacket, exchanging it for a lab coat on the rack next to the door. “Daniel’s one of the TAs for Dr. Hearne. Should be in 106 for a while.”

She knew that.

Leigh snapped on a pair of purple rubber gloves and pulled a pair of goggles over their eyes. “I’ve got to run about a dozen plates and mix twenty batches of dye. But, you can stay in here and do homework or whatever until he’s gone.”

Aislin nodded, setting her bookbag by the coat rack with the jacket hanging from it. Rips and frays in the sleeves revealed its wear, each rip sewn back into place with black thread and each patch lovingly stitched in the same manner. The eight eyes of a black and white spider peered out from one patch in particular, an almost expressive quality to its gaze.

“It isn’t gunna help.” Leigh, back faced towards her, was swirling a fluorescent liquid in a large flask.

“What?”

“Cursing him,” they said, pouring the liquid into a pocket of blue gel. “It won’t help,” they picked up the gel pocket and set it into a tray of water. “You can do it but it won’t help.”

Aislin’s face grew warm. Was it really that obvious? “I just want him to feel the same way I do.”

Leigh picked up a portable battery and two jumper cables. They set it on the table with a thunk and nodded distantly. “And what would that accomplish?” They hooked each cable to a prong in the water tray. “You two feeling like mutual shit, alone in your dorm rooms, still not getting any better?” A flip of a switch and the battery purred. “Sounds like a real great plan.”

The liquid in the tray rippled. Aislin furrowed her brows, but didn’t object. “So… is there a spell to make him think of me?”

“I think running into each other did the trick.”

A pause. “How about to make him come back to me?”

Leigh laughed, “What would that accomplish?”

“Plenty! Things would be back to the way they were.”

“Is that really what you want, Red? To be back to where you were before? To be who you were before?” Leigh turned the dial on a kitchen timer and set it next to the gel plate.

“Yes!” Aislin paused, looked to the red bangs that hung in her frame of view and stuttered. “Well… no.”

“So?”

“So? So what! What then? Is there nothing I can do?” Tears started to well up as she pushed her goggles to her forehead, “Am I supposed to just feel like shit forever? Is that what you want?” She sunk forward and held her head in her arms as she began to sob. A hand was laid lightly into the back of her shoulder as Leigh knelt down beside her, patting as they shushed in a low, gentle voice.  

She wiped at her face with her hoodie sleeves until Leigh handed her a box of Kimwipes. “I- I,” Aislin paused, blew her nose again before she broke down into another sob. “I’m just so tired,” she took a few hyperventilated breaths, wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m- “she looked to Leigh who was, somehow, still as composed as ever. “I’m fucking tired of feeling like shit!”

She buckled, head resting on top of her own knees, pants stained wet with snot and tears.

Leigh lifted their hand as Aislin lifted her head and took a few long, heavy breaths. She wiped away the mess clinging to her face and let a small pile of Kimwipes collect at the foot of the chair. When she looked down she saw that they had taken a seat on the tile floor. Dark, knowing eyes peered up at her. Ask again.

“Is…” Aislin sniffled and pulled herself upright. “Can you… Is there…” She took a long, shaky breath. Her voice was small and she folded her hands in her lap. “Is there a spell to fix a broken heart?”

Leigh pulled their goggles up. “Plenty,” they said.

Aislin looked to the denim jacket that hung next to her bookbag. The patches seemed brighter under the fluorescent lighting. A sewn-in spider twitched it’s long, sketchy legs. She turned back to Leigh, “Can you show me?”

Leigh smiled, “Of course.”