#I think a video popped up on my Instagram explore and I was just like 👁️👄👁️

[theirloveisgross]

I’m the anon you were asking about. A Harry music video clip (TPwK) popped into my feed randomly and I listened for the first time and liked it. Popped on YouTube and then got into Louis which led me to song analysis and Larry. When I saw the secret touches, jealousy it all made sense. I still see the patterns today! I saw Louis live and confirmed everything I thought I’m glad I found it even though it’s not the easiest fandom to be in

Aaaah, thanks for coming here. I'm always so curious how people find Larry recently. I've only been here for a bit over 2 years, which was still during the pandemic and they were both pretty MIA (more or less) so plenty of time to absorb 10 years of history. So with tours going on and everything, I wonder how chaotic it is to dive into this mess, hajdha.

Mmm, oh, yes, Louis and his music being the key to Harry's (door) music, and then diving deep into what happened before all that. Yup. Yeah.

So glad you got to see Louis! He's so amazing, isn't he? *dreamy sigh*

And it is not an easy fandom, no. But as long as you think for yourself, find your people and curate your experience... It's pretty amazing! :D

Anyone who sees this and has joined the fandom in the last year or so, send me an ask or a message if you want. I'm so curious what was your starting point, what made you go "Larry?" and then "LARRY!", hajdhahs.

[brickcentral]

🤩 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: zekezachzoom Hello everyone! It's time to direct the spotlight toward our community members, and today we will get to know better zekezachzoom!

"My name is Sunny but you might know me better as zekezachzoom on social media. I am a freelance graphic designer and have been a toy photographer for 10 years.

I came up with this profile name after my sons’. Zeke is my second son and Zach my first. I imagined them running away after calling their names, hence Zoom. I live in Singapore where we have two seasons, Rain and Shine. It’s a tiny island and getting around is pretty fast and easy. I have a few favourite spots around the island for toy photography. I will be more than happy to explore these places with any of my overseas friends if they pop by this part of the world! Though sometimes I wish we have mountains, rivers and maybe desert for more outdoor choices. On the plus side, being a small island makes organizing an outing with fellow toy photographers very easy, even if it is a last minute thing.

I started toy photography after posting an image of Spiderman squatting on the window ledge overlooking the neighborhood on Instagram…and then discovering the community. Everyone was and still is very encouraging and I think this helped in me trying to better myself with each photograph. Though Instagram is not what is used to be, but that is a discussion for another day.


Talking about process, if there is a brief for the photo (commissioned work, photo contest), I will usually follow up with some research work on the topic. At the same time, I will park the topic for the photo at the back on my mind and let it simmer unconsciously.

However, for personal work, I usually do not actively chase for ideas, forcing them out. I find that most ideas come to me randomly. This usually happens in a variety of ways, like watching videos on any subject, going about my daily life, observing and listening to things around me. I think being curious about everything and anything certainly helps in generating ideas.

Once I have a photo idea, I then let it sit and simmer further in my mind’s eye. This can help take the concept to more interesting directions in terms of story, setup, composition, lighting, etc. More ideas can be built upon this initial concept base on even more things you see and observe. It also allows time to think about how to setup the shot.

I will always sketch my ideas on my notebook, which is always by my side. At present time, I have more ideas than time to shoot!

When it comes to the shoot itself, I usually start with the mobile phone, quickly checking the angles and then locking my camera to a tripod. I always use a tripod to gather multiple shots of the same angle with different lighting, atmospheric effect so that I can then composite them in post if need be. Then I will shoot couple of shots for final composition without the lighting and atmospheric effect. I enjoy the post production work, especially the color grading part. Sometimes, the word PHOTOSHOP give rise to arguments within the photographic community. To me, it’s just a tool to bring the picture to its maximum potential.

I think people I know in the community know me for my punny, silly and light-hearted stuff. So much so that friends recommend me toys they think that might fit this style. However, recently I find myself going all over the place in terms of themes. I just enjoy the process of experimenting different approaches, be it the storytelling or the technical bits of photography. When I am shooting indoor, I usually set up for low key images. It gives me a chance to experiment with indoor lighting. If there is one thing I would tell my younger self when I started, it’s to pay attention to lighting. It can elevate a nice photo to a great photo. Also, I like to build simple sets with everyday object that end up looking like something else when viewed through the camera. I do this mostly because I am lazy and don’t have the patience to build dioramas. I am usually with a group of friends when I shoot outdoors, because we have a monthly gathering among us. During these outings, I am constantly looking out for areas with awesome lighting. I try to reserve my action shots (ie scenes with flying debris) outdoors, mostly because there is no need to clean up after the mess! Also, outdoor light is beautiful…but fast changing lighting condition is another story all together.

When I first started, it was all about the Star Wars figures. I had stopped collecting figures since the 1980s , but it was the Star Wars Black Series that got me collecting again with all its glorious articulation. Once I discovered the community, I realized that there were other characters to be bought! I sometimes wonder if that is a good thing, from my wallet’s point of view.

I find myself gravitating towards nostalgia when it comes to the figures I buy. So, my collection and images usually reflect that, with movie/TV characters from the 80s. Stuff like Aliens, Indiana Jones, Predator and Back to the Future, etc. However, whether they are LEGO minifigures, statues, 6 inch figures, I will shoot any figures as long as they serve the stories. Each type of figures has its own pros and cons and challenges. But I would not have it any other way.

This is my basic equipment list: • Nikon Zfc with kit lens (16mm to 50mm) • Lensbaby Sweet 35 lens • Helios 44-2 58mm lens • Extension tubes for close ups • 2 speed lights • Couple of LED cube lights • Manfrotto tripod

Why toy photography? I love pop culture and telling quirky weird stories with characters I love. I can never produce awesome looking illustration of these images I have in mind and photography seems like the next best thing. Hence toy photography! When I first started, I was always coming up with ideas in the middle of the night and sketching them down and made it my mission to spread this hobby. I recall vividly telling a friend how much I enjoy this hobby and was going to just keep throwing out toy photos into the internet and see what comes back. And a lot has indeed happen since then: • I started a local Facebook group to organize more toy photography outings and share photos. • Managed to get featured on national newspaper and television, because they came across my work online. • Made friends on social media and participated in podcast by some of these friends. • Conducted workshops. • Shot for some toy companies. • Collaboration with toy designers and model/diorama makers. • Nikon Ambassador.

I have enjoyed the journey so far and look forward to improving myself. Something I always remind myself: your best photo is the one you have not taken yet."

Thank you for accepting our invitation and let the community knows you better!

If you want some insights on the exclusive picture and for a better view of the others, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/.

- @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

[beastlybardou]

5 12 and 20 for the therian ask game!!!

5.) at what age did you accept that you were nonhuman/therian/otherkin/alterhuman? feel free to talk more about the experience of accepting your experience identifying as other than human!

I wanna guess I was about 14? It was my freshman year of high school I think. I'm really horrible with time frames.

I first heard of the alterhuman community around 8th grade, in a video that was, I think, making fun of gender identities? (RIP) Just something that unfortunately popped up on YouTube when I was first really starting to explore gender. Anyways, they briefly mentioned otherkin, and people in the comments were really ragging on it. Of course, they were doing a horrible job of explaining what it was, so I agreed that it sounded stupid at first. But I agreed in kind of an "Oh, well, I mean, I'm kind of a werewolf, but I'm not like *that* about it" way. I then proceeded to think about it for months.

When I started my freshman year, it was at this very small and alternative school, and we actually had a therian kid there who I had a huge crush on. Unfortunately, they were quite a bit older than me and completely uninterested. I also hadn't come around on therianthropy being dumb yet, but thinking that they were cool helped me start softening up on the idea.

I didn't spend long at that school, though, and ended up transferring back to my hometown's school, which was a bit bigger and intensely preppy. I still had videos come up about otherkin every once and a while, usually cringe comp kind of stuff, but also occasionally posts from actual otherkin/therians on Instagram. I started getting a much more favorable attitude towards the whole thing, and by the end of the year, I had my experience mentioned in the last post that made me join the community for real.

12.) how do you think we can foster community in the nonhuman/therian/otherkin/alterhuman community?

Focus on talking about your own experiences and the nature of your nonhuman identity, rather than focusing on "content creation". Your identity shouldn't be something to consume or buy or be made to draw in likes, it should be for you.

We should also try to get better about interacting with each other. If you see someone posting about an experience that speaks to you, reblog with your own additions. Send asks. Try to talk to people. It's awkward at first, but I think if the community as a whole opened back up to interaction, it would stop feeling like you might be intruding. When I first joined the community, I remember I would get questions and DMs and comments on my posts all the time - even when I had far fewer followers than I do these days. It seems like there's just been kind of a weird culture shift against that.

15.) what is your favourite type of gear (if any)?

I have some tails that I really love. I think functional gear is my favorite, though. claw rings that are actually sharp, fangs you can actually bite with, coats colored and textured like your fur that are actually hardy and weather appropriate, hiking boots with wolf pawprints on the soles, etc.

[hyojongpromo]

Dawn Remembers Relationship With HyunA “Fondly,” Explores Sacrifice on New Song “Dear My Light”

“There are some situations where letting go also helps people shine, though,” he tells Teen Vogue.

BY ABBY WEBSTER

Kim Hyojong, known by his stage name Dawn, is done with the spectacle. In the music video for his confessional new single “Dear My Light,” wisps of smoke efface the K-pop star, and a media circus confronts his anonymous silhouette. It’s a powerful statement from an artist whose private life has been broadcast everywhere online for the past year.

That’s not to say his songwriting isn’t personal. He’s just being intentional with how it’s packaged. “Even if there’s something I want to hide in my life,” Dawn says over a video call, “whether I share it or not is up to the music.” Form is everything to him, and the acoustic “Dear My Light” is first and foremost a letter. The subject remains nameless, though its addressee would be immediately obvious to even a casual K-pop listener.

In 2018, soloist HyunA revealed that she and Dawn had been secretly dating, contradicting a statement from their company. At the time, he was just beginning to break through with his group Pentagon, while she had been making a name for herself in the industry for nearly a decade. The move got them kicked from Cube Entertainment, though they were signed by P Nation, Psy’s label, shortly after. In the following years, fans honed in on the underdog romance. For better or for worse, HyunA and Dawn became inextricably tied in the public’s mind.

Last year, when the couple quietly let their P Nation contracts expire, few predicted what would happen next. “We broke up,” a post to HyunA’s Instagram read. “We decided to remain good friends and co-workers from now on. Thank you always for your support and care.”

Now, at his new creative home AT AREA, Dawn is ready to start fresh — but “Dear My Light,” his reentry into the K-pop scene, isn’t tinged with regret as you might expect. It’s defined by its gratitude and grace. Ahead of its release on April 13, Dawn spoke to Teen Vogue about stepping into the spotlight alone and being understood by the ones who matter most.

Teen Vogue: “Dear My Light” is your most personal, raw single to date. What made it feel like this was the right next step for you?

Dawn: Well, it is what I’m experiencing right now. I just so happened to also meet and find a new family in AT AREA. In our conversations, the idea of wanting to put sincerity in music came up often, which is how this single came to be.

Teen Vogue: How would you describe the message of the song, in your own words?

Dawn: I think every person, no matter how bright they are, has a dark side. I am like this, too. There are times when the darkness becomes darker. This happened to me, but then, during that time, I met someone who was a great light in my life. This person was able to make my darkness become light again. It’s these sorts of experiences and feelings that allowed me to make this song. As I was writing it, I felt as if I was writing a letter to this person.

Obviously, what I experienced was a breakup. But this person was such a light to me that even now I remember them and our moments together fondly. These memories could become faint and disappear altogether later on, but I believe the traces of the person will always remain.

Teen Vogue: Writing a letter to someone can be very cathartic, even if there’s the possibility they might not read it.

Dawn: I think of it like this: This person was a light for me, but I was also a light for them. If this person is the person that I know them to be, then they will definitely read this letter and correctly understand what I tried to say.

Teen Vogue: There’s a lyric: “Even if I have to let go a lot of me for you to shine / I’m fine.” Have you felt that way in your career as an idol, that you’ve had to let go of a part of yourself?

Dawn: In Korea, there is a negative perception towards idols dating. This does influence the situation. But both me and the person I dated, in my mind, were people who shined more if we were honest [with the public about our relationship]. There are some situations where letting go also helps people shine, though.

Love is between two individual people. There always has to be a certain amount of consideration and sacrifice from one person to the other. But rather than sacrifice, I like to think of it as care and consideration. In any relationship, care for the other is necessary.

Teen Vogue: It’s fitting that you bring up your life as an artist and your life as a part of this relationship, because those are two things that became very publicly entangled. How have you been unraveling those threads?

Dawn: The events overlapped with each other. I left my old company on good terms, but I left because I wanted to do something new. At the time, I wasn’t sure what that was. I wasn’t prepared. At the same time, the person that I loved most said they needed some time alone, so we were apart from each other.

It was a hard time in my life, but now I see that hardship was what helped me clearly determine what path I needed to follow. I’m going to continue to think back on that time and follow this path as I move forward.

Now, in my new company, I’ve figured out what type of music I want to do, the things that I have to do, and the stories I have to tell. I also figured out what I want to tell my fans who love me. As difficult as that time was, it was also eye-opening. I plan to continue to work through it with my company in order to find a variety of things that I can offer beyond just music.

Teen Vogue: With you moving to AT AREA, are we going to be seeing more hip-hop and R&B influence in your music?

Dawn: Not necessarily. Rather than dividing it into genres like hip-hop, R&B, dance, or EDM, I think K-pop has its own specific appeal. As it continues to influence and be influenced by music across the world, K-pop continues to develop. Rather than saying I’ll do R&B or hip-hop, I think it’s better to say that I will continue to do K-pop.

Teen Vogue: In the past, you’ve described “Dawndididawn” as an introduction to who you were as a soloist, at that time. Given your life and label changes in the past year, would you say this is a *re*introduction?

Dawn: I don’t really consider it a redo. No matter how much I would want to redo something, the Internet already has all the things I have done. [Laughs] They’re not going away.

But also, I don’t want to redo anything. It’s a path I’ve already walked and I don’t see it as bad. I like what I have done. And there were fans who liked that me but have stayed with me, so I want to build upon that rather than redo. The only difference is that the person I was then is different than who I am now. But I love both.

Teen Vogue: How do you hope fans will view this new chapter?

Dawn: It’s nice that people know Dawn the artist, the entity that is Dawn, but my real name is Hyojong. I was afraid to let people know me because Dawn the artist is spectacular and strong, but Hyojong is, in my mind, a very plain, sometimes cowardly, and not necessarily impressive person.

I tried to hide Hyojong, but now I want Dawn to be Hyojong and Hyojong to be Dawn. Hyojong is stronger and continues to become stronger. And I personally find that impressive.

[chaosciara]

I need to hear about your instagram crush 👀 🍿

oh my god jae I do not think you know what you’ve just opened by asking this of me😫are you ready? I could talk about this boy for HOURS!

let me take you on a Journey™️

so some things you need to know about me first:

1. my obsession with pretty boys (and people in general) extends far beyond me crying about them on tumblr (which I do quite frequently). ergo pretty boys tend to pop up on my instagram feed as fashion influencers, dancers, singers, pottery artists (this is a very large niche apparently?) and most frequently: gym goers.

2. now another thing you need to know about me: i DO NOT gym. beyond not being even remotely interested in it, I also have a myriad of joint problems (shoutout jana (@disappearsreappears ) for being metaphorical cane-babes together) and therefore going to the gym and doing cool gym stuff is not really an option for me. so naturally I don’t actively engage in gym content for gym related purposes, in any aspect of my life

3. but nonetheless because I love pretty boys, and THEY love gym, I get a lot of gym content on my Instagram.

4. another thing you need to know: I spend a clinically distressing amount of time on instagram. like if you think I waste away on tumblr, instags is at least twice as bad :/

5. that means I get through A Lot of content in one day. but, while I’m pretty liberal about what content I watch and engage in, I’m quite strict about who I follow. instagram is a nightmare of suggestions and recommendations in the home feed, the explore page, and the reels so the small amount of curation I actually can do, I keep under strict lockdown.

6. therefore despite having lots of fun seeing pretty boys in my reels and smiling ridiculously at the screen as they attempt to hit personal gym records for weird shit like russian deadlifts and bulgarian split squats, I don’t just follow every pretty human i see.

7. in fact, unless I really really like your videos (/content) and they surpass my usual serotonin boost I don’t care how many times you come up in my feed I probably won’t follow you.

8. one more thing about me: I have two instagram accounts — one I created in 2013 and has been on private and will continue to be on private since then (it’s my main Instagram where I follow all my people from). and the other I started in 2021 to post more of my chaos things > that one is public and full of nonsense and I don’t follow anyone from there cause I use it purely as an memory book of sorts (it’s linked on all my tumbles so I’m not linking here but the important thing is that it’s public so anyone can see what I post < that’s important for later)

okay onto my Instagram crush and (self proclaimed) love of my life 😫

scott ho (aka @/scottoho) popped up in my reels in January this year (I think it was jan it may have been the undefined time between dec and jan but I’m like seventy five percent sure it was jan) with this sinful video (I’d like to defend myself at this point and say not all, in fact almost none of, the gym related videos that pop up in my feed are this…slutty… though I’m certainly not complaining). and I was like oh my god he’s preetttyyyyyy.

but I didn’t follow him (see above) I just liked the reel and moved on. but (for those who managed to avoid the instags hellscape) interacting once with something on there will most definitely prompt an entire slew of that account’s (and other accounts like it) content. so over the next few days I got a couple more scott related gym videos.

usually I take about a month or more to follow someone if I keep seeing their content and like it. it took me two days to follow him😫I saw an arm workout, a leg workout, and my absolute weakness, a back workout

I was SOLD!

pretty boy ✅

shows us pretty back muscles✅

and one of his posts had him looking gorgeous in a baby blue sweater at a fucking art gallery✅ (lord I’m still unsure how I survive him)

now yes he was a pretty boy I followed but he wasn’t, at this stage my instagram crush. no, not yet. a couple weeks and many videos go by where I’m happy to see him on my feed and enjoy his content

15 jan (I know the date cause I sent his vid to a friend I was crying about it to) rolls around and a leg workout pops up. INSTANT LOVE. I don’t know what the fuck was in that video but I was GONNNEEEE about it. literally just tumbled head first into obsession

and that marks the day I started looking forward to see his content on my feed (clinically down bad at this point)

he then posted this video dancing to that adorable “sure thing” trend (“if you be the cash I’ll be the rubber band etc etc.”) and I melted straight into the earth’s core and immediately saved that video to my instags. I also went through the effort of reposting that video on my public instagram account purely so he would be able to see it! and he did! and he liked my story and I cried about THAT for about eighty five days

fast forward to me screaming shaking crying throwing up about him on a daily basis and telling my friend in LA she has to pack him in her suitcase when she’s coming back because I. NEED. HIM!!!! (she said she would but she also has my soju glasses and frankly those are still more important no matter how much I love him)

AND THEN: (cause no this is not over — I told you you opened the doors to hell)

he posted this video showing what he looked like before his workout (muscles less defined, skin not as flushed, so so gorgeous) and after (muscles more defined, skin a pretty pink, the most beautiful ever!). and the caption for the video was “before the pump and after the pump // can you tell the difference?”

and me (who is delusional but also forward as hell) commented: “pretty before, pretty after ✨” which he then responded to with “ur pretty during”.

JAE I DIED????!!!!!! HOW DARE HE DO THAT TO ME????? I FUCKING PASSED OUT!!!!!!

(and yes I know he was just being smooth with it and he defs has zero idea what I look like and he responds to lots of comments etc. etc. but love is delusional and I’m obsessed so I will continue to live in fantasy world)

anyway that comment (and his reply) got some attention (I’m still getting notifications about it which is extremely annoying does anyone know how to stop them?).

alas after this he posted a video where he and another influencer did a skit where they pretended to bump into each other by accident. it was very cute and I cried about it because the love of my life is in love with someone else what am I gonna do I can’t believe this😔😔😔😔I was in heartbreak central.

BUT after that I found out he played basketball (which is my favourite sport to watch) and I was back to WANTING TO MARRY HIM!

and then he posted a video showing his overnight oats recipe which I then reposted on stories with the caption “two meals in this video” which he saw and liked (when you’re in love those little instagram floating hearts really be giving you all the chemicals you need) (really at this point I’m just surprised my mother hasn’t called asking why I’m publicly thirsting over someone?)

anyway, I’m stocked up nice and full on my daily scott serotonin boost when a couple days later he posts a shoulder work out and I reposted that on my stories

(guys please understand I don’t follow him from my public account I really am so fucked I go through a whole process for reposting on the off chance he’ll see it UGH)

with the caption, “my only goal this year is to be so delusional I can pretend I’ll bump into @/scottoho on the street even though we live 10’s of 1000’s of km’s away from each other // it’s working btdubs (I’m so delusional)” which he REPLIED TO with: “maybe if you come to LA” and suddenly I had a notification from him in my direct messages 😫😫😫😫😫please I could not contain myself I think I crashed the metaphorical car . I was i n c o h e r e n t about it !!!

anyway after not recovering from that at all I am fully in the thirsting business when it comes to scott and I don’t see myself stopping until I get ignored because he got so popular he just cannot realistically reply to everyone (please that’s nightmare day😭😫) < can y’all tell I like attention?

ps. he posted the cutest ramble on his stories yesterday I watched it like seventeen times I can’t believe stories disappear I need to eat this man!

okay thank you for letting me take you on this journey. I hope you can understand I’m really going through it with him at the moment (because I’m fucking on crack and also delusional) and there will definitely be more tumblr posts where I cry about him (I can’t say I’m sorry)

mwah! sending love jae :) <3

[sciencestyled]

Reality? Augmented and Virtual? Pfft, Who Needs That? Just Strap On and Yeet into the Future of Art!

Ladies and gents, dudes and dudettes, gather 'round as we dive headfirst into the glittering, neon-drenched rabbit hole of Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR) art. Now, I know what you're thinking: “Is this just another Professor Pop fever dream?” Well, buckle up, because we’re about to embark on a wild ride that makes Alice's Wonderland look like a Sunday stroll in the park.

First off, let's talk AR. Imagine if Snapchat filters and Instagram reels had a baby with the art world – a baby that grew up on a steady diet of electric Kool-Aid and superhero movies. AR is all about layering digital funkiness over our humdrum reality. Like, why settle for boring old real-world sculptures when you can whip out your phone and see a 3D model of a T-Rex playing a saxophone right in your living room? Yeet, indeed!

Take, for instance, the glorious insanity of AR installations. Picture this: you're waltzing through a park, minding your own business, when BAM! – you hold up your phone and suddenly you're surrounded by Van Gogh's Starry Night swirling around you. But wait, there's more! Tap your screen and now it's a mash-up with Kanye West’s face superimposed on the stars, each twinkling to the beat of "Gold Digger." AR takes traditional art, dunks it in a vat of pop culture references, and serves it up with a side of “OMG, what even is reality anymore?”

Now, let’s slide into the realm of VR. Oh boy, VR! The lovechild of The Matrix and every sci-fi movie ever, where you strap on those oversized goggles and suddenly you’re not just viewing art, you’re inside it. Yes, my friends, VR is the ultimate “choose your own adventure” book but with fewer words and more chances to walk into walls because you forgot you were in your mom’s basement.

Imagine stepping into a virtual gallery. You're no longer just a casual observer; you're Tony Stark flying through a museum of mind-bending creations. Here, a giant, pulsating jellyfish sculpture floats by. There, an interactive 3D model of a black hole swirls ominously, narrated by none other than Morgan Freeman because, obviously, his voice makes everything 1000% more epic. KA-POW!

Speaking of interactive, let's not forget about those VR art experiences that let you go full-on Bob Ross. Don your VR headset, grab your virtual paintbrush, and get ready to paint some “happy little trees” that you can literally walk around. Or, if you're feeling particularly avant-garde, why not create a VR masterpiece that involves neon cats riding on rainbows while quoting Shakespeare? "To yeet, or not to yeet," that is the question.

But wait, it gets wilder. Remember Pokémon GO? That was just the tip of the AR iceberg. Now, artists are creating mixed reality installations that blur the lines between the digital and the physical. Like, picture an art exhibit where you don AR glasses and suddenly the sculptures around you start talking. Not in a creepy, haunted-house way, but more like, “Hey, you look smashing today! Care to know my history?” It’s like Dora the Explorer meets Night at the Museum, but with a dash of Salvador Dalí.

And because we’re living in the age of TikTok and meme culture, these AR and VR art pieces are designed to be as shareable as possible. Snap a selfie with a digital Mona Lisa that dabs when you say “cheese,” or record a video of yourself dancing through a VR Salvador Dalí landscape, because if it didn’t go viral, did it even happen?

Now, here's the kicker: AR and VR art isn't just about creating mind-blowing visuals. It’s about making science meets art a reality. Literally. Imagine virtual galleries where you can explore interactive 3D models of scientific phenomena. Like, ever wanted to take a stroll through a human cell? Pop on your VR headset and shrink down to microscopic size, Ant-Man style, to wander through a nucleus and high-five some ribosomes. Or how about AR experiences where you can see the constellations mapped out in the night sky above you, complete with animated mythological creatures acting out their tales because plain old stargazing is so last century.

These techy art forms are also breaking down barriers, making art more accessible. You don’t need to travel to a far-off museum or shell out big bucks for an art show. Nope, just plop down on your couch, put on your VR headset, and voila! You’re at an exclusive art exhibit in Paris, sipping virtual champagne and nodding knowingly at pieces you pretend to understand. Très chic!

So, what does this all mean for the future? Will we all become digital art connoisseurs, navigating through a sea of virtual Picassos and AR Pollocks? Probably not. But we will have a heck of a lot of fun pretending. The fusion of AR and VR with art is like throwing a rave in the Louvre – it’s chaotic, exhilarating, and a little bit bonkers.

As we hurtle towards this techy art future, remember to keep your sense of humor intact. Whether you’re exploring a VR art space where kittens in space suits perform Hamlet or you're using AR to turn your living room into a disco with Andy Warhol lookalikes, the key is to embrace the absurdity. After all, if we can’t laugh at the idea of a digital Van Gogh quoting Snoop Dogg while floating above our heads, what’s the point?

So, dear students, go forth and dive into the fantastical world of AR and VR art. Strap on those headsets, fire up those apps, and prepare to be amazed, bemused, and probably a little bit confused. Just remember, when someone asks you what you did today, you can proudly say, “I explored the intersection of science and art in a mixed reality installation where Banksy’s graffiti danced to TikTok tunes.” And if they look at you like you're crazy, just smile knowingly and say, “It was lit.”

[chorusfm]

Liner Notes (June 1st, 2024)

The first great pop-punk album of summer 2024 is here. Plus, some other random thoughts on other things. This week’s supporter Q&A post can be found here. If you’d like this newsletter delivered to your inbox each week (it’s free and available to everyone), you can sign up here. A Few Things * I liked this article in the Washington Post that looked at the data behind when people think America was “great.” The answer? It’s not an era; it’s an age: “The good old days when America was “great” aren’t the 1950s. They’re whatever decade you were 11, your parents knew the correct answer to any question, and you’d never heard of war crimes tribunals, microplastics or improvised explosive devices. Or when you were 15 and athletes and musicians still played hard and hadn’t sold out.” * All the AI fails from Google have been getting the headlines lately, but the story I think has still been underreported is the fact that Google search kind of sucks now. The core product has been suffering for a while, and the recent leaks show the company has been pretty shady as well. Usually, when that happens, it’s a steep line down. As an owner of a small blog, I’ve seen this reflected in our traffic for years; I stopped even trying to get ranked and don’t pay attention to our search traffic. But every time I Google a recipe and have to handle three fourths of a page of SEO slop, I am reminded of it. It’s too bad that Google and Facebook basically murdered the online ad business, and right now, does either offer much value? Instagram? For me, it’s probably Gmail. However, that only powers my email backend and I use Mimestream as the client. These companies are so big and dominant that it’s hard to see competition even getting a foothold to disrupt them, but damn. In Case You Missed It * Rare 1997 Footage of Blink-182 Live * The Black Keys Cancel Arena Tour * Spotify to Discontinue Car Thing * Liner Notes (May 25th, 2024) * Best Case – “Heavy Seas” (Video Premiere) * Bert McCracken Announces Solo Project * Balance and Composure Announce New Album * Four Year Strong Announce New Album * The Menzingers Announce Deluxe Album * Albums in Stores – May 31st, 2024 Music Thoughts * In this house, summer begins when the first new pop-punk album drops that makes me feel like sunshine is pumping through my veins. This year, it’s officially Super American’s awesome Gangster of Love—just a ridiculously fun, energetic, creative, and all around blast of an album. There’s a lot of classic pop-punk here, but I also love the quirkiness and what feels like a little Relient K and Motion City Soundtrack influence in their style. This is going to absolutely dominate my next few months, and the only complaint I have is the album cover is preventing me from wanting to purchase it on vinyl. (Their previous album is also a lot of fun, but this one is exploring some new things that elevate their sound to the next level.) * Happy 25th anniversary to Blink-182’s Enema of the State. No album in history has had a bigger impact on my life. * Arrows in Action’s new single “Hello Sunlight” is another solid tune, and Neon Trees are finally giving us new album information next week. Their run of singles has me anticipating this one quite a bit. * Ben Platt’s latest didn’t stick with me on first listen the way his last did. It has a nice breezy feel that maybe I’ll come back to one of these summer nights and connect with, but my first listen had me checking how many songs were left multiple times. Not usually a good sign. * Days Away’s Mapping an Invisible World is still one of the most underrated albums ever. I listened to it twice this week and still marvel at how modern it sounds. Someone press this to vinyl, please. * Super American got me back on a Relient K kick, and every single one of their albums puts a smile on my face. * Cassadee Pope’s upcoming “return to pop-punk” album is interesting. She has obvious vocal chops, but the album doesn’t have the hooks I… https://chorus.fm/features/articles/liner-notes-june-1st-2024/

[dear-ao3]

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boy was it fucking ever. welcome back everyone to monaco. The Race on the calendar. today is june 2, 2024 and lets fucking go shall we

(yeah i know its a week late, what did you expect?)

first, before we can get into monaco, a few last updates from imola:

valtteri was actually at williams to get coffee and not have a meeting with james vowels because his coffee machine shorted a circuit that was also hooked up to max's sim racing rig for the weekend and he talked about it in a stream

max and valtteris senna shirts were aparently stolen, hence why they weren't wearing them in the photo

aparently i linked the wrong video in the imola update of max running with the pizza, i found that clip again and it is here. i still have a lot of questions about it and no answers.

and now your regularly scheduled programming. we started the week out strong, with an adoption.

as you might know, oscar has been playing mr worldwide, mr 305 in terms of finding reasons to make every race his home race. and well, this exchange happened on twitter at the beginning of the week:

i do not think that leo ever actually popped to mclaren actually, sadly.

oscars mom of course had a few questions:

but reguardless, he was seemingly adopted into the leclerc family and set about exploring his new homeland on instagram:

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his next post was him enjoying the view with the caption "Finding my Monégasque roots"

(as an aside, people also started changing charles's wikipedia page to reflect his new son, but the page was locked soon after, with lorenzo no longer being listed as his brother now. he was a casualty in the war.)

but this whole interaction was very funny for two reasons

it continues to provide evidence to the rumored fact that carlos and charles actually do not get along

it bring up once again the discussion of the Monaco Curse

its been long speculated that carlos and charles dont actually like eachother very much and the relationship they have on camera is for pr only (i think this was captained by one of their moms liking tweets about how the teammate was bad or something?? i dont remember, and lets not forget nico rosberg comparing them to 2016 nico rosberg and lewis hamilton and commenting on their "driving feud" in china, if anyone knows a teammate feud its him).

anyway. charles publicly "adopting" oscar, just a few days after he had his second battle of the season with carlos and ultimately cost carlos points and places in not one but two races was kind of a very hilarious fuck you to carlos by charles. like a "hey man i know you hate this guy but im about to do the funniest fucking thing"

and then we have the Curse.

the monaco curse.

which applies to pretty much charles only.

essentially, charles has never once ever had a good race in monaco. ever. at all. take a look at his stats:

2017: f2 race, DNF 2018: f1 race, DNF 2019: f1 race, DNF 2020: no monaco race due to covid 2021: f1 race, DNS (notably, he had qualified on pole position this year and monaco is a hard track to overtake on so qualifying is very important but he had a crash in qualifying after he set his pole lap and the car had to get fixed, but there were problems with it that they didnt realize because the gear box blew out on the formation lap of the race) 2022: monaco historic race, crash 2022: f1 race, p4 (from pole) 2023: f1 race, p6

and if charles has adopted oscar, does that mean that oscar is going to get the curse? whos to say.

what we Do know though is that the ferrari has upgrades that seem to work (at least by imola standards) and they are bringing a new rear wing to monaco that will get them a bit more downforce (make car go faster) which is Very Exciting for charles, this could be the year he finally defeats the curse!!

(though carlos did say that the new upgrade package that ferrari is running is "not optimized for monaco" because of the track layout. helmut marko though (one of the red bull higher ups in case you forgot, we havent mentioned him in a whole hot minute but hes making a valiant reappearance on this post) said about monaco "it will be one of the most difficult races for us, due to the bumps and the curbs. i expect a lot from ferrari, and especially from leclerc")

but before we get into the nitty gritty of monaco, the rest of the media day sillies. because believe it or not, charles is still not off the hook here.

so george russell. i dont think we've talked about him an abundant amount as of recently, aside from him being utterly unbothered about the whole Whos Getting A Mercedes Seat situation, but he is a total and absolute menace. legitimately.

first, i think ive said this before, george had a tumblr back in the day. its unclear if he still ever goes on it but he did definitely have one which is hilarious. also hes a power point king. aparently part of the reason he got signed to mercedes (?) (i think it was mercedes) was because he made a power point presentation for toto wolff explaining why he would be a good fit for the team. legitimately. he also made a powerpoint for alex and lando back in 2019 explaining why he should be rookie of the year (he didnt win rookie of the year, lando did, probably because lando was in a slightly better car). anyway. hes a menace. and like all good menaces, he has receipts.

at the press conference on thursday charles was talking about his favorite movies and was talking about harry potter and how well he knew the movies as a small child. george very politely waited his turn to say that one of the first videos he has on his phone is a video from 2012 when they were all still in karting where charles is pretending to be a wizard on a broomstick.

max (and the interviewer) expressed their desire to see the video and that george should post it. charles said "keep that video to yourself."

george did pull out the video and we got a little sneak peek of baby charles on a broom stick

yes, this is a very serious sport, why do you ask?

zhou posted ai photos of his cat sweet corn in the paddock with him. i cant find them right now, trust me that it happened.

mclaren were the only team running a special livery and no, it was not a historic one like their monaco merch would have suggested, but a teen and yellow one for ayrton senna, who dominated at monaco. the car itself was fine:

the suits looked like sprite cans

both lando and oscar ran special senna themed helmets and oscar ended up auctioning off one of his for the senna foundation.

and of course, we had our weekly game of Can You Guess What The Weather Is Based On What Lando And Oscar Wear To The Track? the answer was again, of course, like always, no!

also on the outfit game of course, as always was sir lewis hamilton. and he was back on his tit agenda. the general reaction was this:

tho he did have one outfit that was giving Oh No My Husband Just Died Of Mysterious Circumstances!

and, williams decided to put the duracell bunny on their car:

but now for the real news. what everyone wants. silly season.

i know i said last week silly season was properly sillying but now were seemingly in the full swing. no one is safe. so lets just run down the whole line and get a general refresher of what the hell is happening.

lando: signed with mclaren, through at least 2027

oscar: signed with mclaren, through 2026

charles: signed with ferrari through 2029

lewis: signed with ferrari through probably 2026

fernando: signed with aston for some period of time

nico: signed with stake (audi) through 2026 at least

lance: hasn't been officially announced but hes likely staying at aston cause his dad owns the team

alex: signed an extension with williams through 2026

george: signed with mercedes through 2025

and then shit really hits the fan

there are 11 remaining seats, no one has officially announced retirement and there is speculation that several rookies or ex drivers could be making a reappearance in 2025, meaning some people are going to end up without a seat. and its an absolute mess, but i will do my damn best to straighten it out

starting with max verstappen, who seems to be the person that everyone is waiting on. technically yes max has a red bull contract until 2028 but there has been speculation that he might leave following the whole Jos and Christian Fiasco post the Harassment Allegations. max has sort of kind of said he doesnt want to leave, but that hasn't stopped the rumors and also hasn't stopped red bull from keeping their options open should max decide that he wants to leave. lets also remember that adrian newey left the team and max won the imola race by .7 seconds. and im decently sure that if the red bull isn't a championship contending car, max can leave the team. where would he go? probably mercedes at least according to the rumors of toto wolff wanting to sign him and give him an insane amount of money, but none of that hasn't been confirmed and right now there mercedes is more shit than the red bull by an absolute long shot.

also in contention for the mercedes seat is kimi antonelli, current f2 driver. hes in his rookie f2 season but is generally regarded as the next max verstappen, as we know toto missed out on signing max several years ago to horner and isn't keen on repeating that mistake again. lewis hamilton also has said that he supports toto signing kimi and kimi seems to be the favored choice for the second mercedes seat, even over carlos sainz. arlos could also reported even go back rb and wait for a seat to open up at red bull, though again this seems unlikely.

reportedly toto and mercedes have lost interest in carlos and so has red bull, leaving his only option as stake/audi, which he doesnt seem to be too pleased about. aparently they also want an answer from carlos this weekend. there are some rumors though that carlos has been talking to williams as well, though james vowels kind of denied this during practice 1 this weekend when he was asked about it and said "carlos who?" logan sargeant is definitely at risk at williams and likely wont get re signed there.

and if carlos doesnt sign with stake/audi then they have to look for someone else, yuki tsunoda being one of the options.

and red bull are no longer interested in carlos because it seems like they are going to re sign checo perez as their second driver because he has been consistent all season so far (but usually checo is good at the beginning and then falls off) and reportedly they have offered him a one year contract, which he has also reportedly countered for a 2 year contract (interesting if this is true cause remember alex albon signed an extension with williams and red bull at one point wanted first refusal of him for 2026 so if they were only ever going to sign a one year with checo then why did alex extend at williams?? all questions we will not get answers to). aparently according to helmut marko, yuki tsunoda could be an option for red bull as well, given how well he has been doing at rb. daniel ricciardo seems an unlikely option for red bull, tho later in the week it was said that yuki was no longer an option but daniel was, though there are rumors that his contract says he is set to stay at rb or red bull, but given his recent performance he is unlikely to move up to red bull.

yuki tsunoda on the other hand has some options outside of rb, such as aston and haas. though for yuki to sign at aston would mean that lance stroll would be leaving the team which seems unlikely while his dad owns it. and lets not forget liam lawson who was also all but gaurenteed an rb seat for 2025 by helmut marko and remember that he did manage to knock max out of qualifying in singapore last year when he was subbing in for daniel.

haas though has several options for drivers. they have one confirmed open seat because nico went to stake/audi which is likely going to get filled by ollie bearman, currently in f2 (kimi's teammate) and the haas/ferrari reserve driver. he has 6 practice sessions with haas this year and has so far done one of them, hes also driven in an f1 race for carlos in saudi arabia and finished in the points. kevin magnussen does not seem like he is going to get re signed because of all the penalty points that he has accumulated so far this season (10) and if he doesnt get re signed at haas several drivers have reportedly been talking to haas, like zhou guanyu, esteban ocon, logan sargeant, yuki tsunoda, and valtteri bottas. it is unlikely that haas will sign two rookies as they have done this before and it hasn't worked out for them.

valtteri bottas has also reportedly had negotiations with williams (but most of this seems to stem from last weekend when he was in fact going to the williams hospitality to get coffee), and he could also be in talks with alpine. but alpine seem to be looking at mick schumacher as a potential driver for 2025 (mick was previously a hass driver from 2021-22 and is the mercedes reserve driver currently but has done a bunch of endurance testing at alpine, also mercedes had him do testing to compare his performance directly to kimis recently, or maybe its coming up??)

and of the two current alpine drivers, pierre gasly seems less likey to resign with the team because lets remember that when he signed with them two years ago they were fighting for fourth in the championship and now they are pretty much the slowest car on the grid. as for esteban ocon he seems to still view himself as a mercedes junior driver who could still be in contention for the second merc seat, its unclear if he will stay at alpine though it seems like he is getting favored over pierre there. or at least he was until the race this weekend...more on that later.

make sense? clear as mud? perfect!

certainly we are in the thick of everything here. and were heading into monaco, one of the techiest tracks on the calendar. could be a great opportunity to prove yourself.

what makes monaco so challenging? well it is a street circuit through the streets of monte carlo. its i think the oldest track on the calendar and i also think has been used pretty much every year of f1. all the greats have won in monaco.

since its a tight street circuit, passing is very hard. theres elevation changes, theres a tunnel, theres tight turns, theres the slowest turn on the calendar at this track. its a slow speed track, meaning that they are not pushing their cars to the limits. the top speed here is only about 192MPH (significantly slower than other tracks) and all bets are off if its raining. pierre once said in an episode of drive to survive that monaco in the rain is the level on the video game that everyone crashes during, and they get to do it in real life.

charles, as we already know has had absolutely shit ass luck here and after 2021 after his DNS he tweeted this:

checo has also had weird luck in monaco. he won monaco in 2022 (after crashing in q3 of qualifying and ending the session early, mainly meaning that he was going to be starting 5th and ahead of max who could not complete another qualifying lap in order to get pole, there was speculation that he did this on purpose). after he won he was given a contract extension at red bull (which is taking him through the end of this year) but! it has been heavily speculated that he also cheated on his wife after he won in monaco, because there was footage that circulated of him partying and dancing with several women very closely. he claimed that that was not true, but again that has never been distinctly proven to have been true in the first place. in 2023 he qualified 20th and ended 16th. would the bad luck for him continue? idk i guess we will find out!

one person who has managed to defeat their monaco curse though was daniel ricciardo back in 2018. this was when he was still racing for red bull. in 2016 he had been set to win but got fucked on his pit stop because they didn't have the tires ready for him and he came out of the pits too late. in 2018, which was during the peak red bull v rennault engine woes, his engine went and could pretty much only operate in 2 gears (not ideal for an f1 car) (and especially when the monaco track requires a good 40+ gear changes PER LAP) but he didnt retire the car because he was leading the race and managed to hold off sebastian vettel (in a ferrari!) and win. this is where we got the infamous pool dive pics:

and yes, i probably have told this story before, but i am telling it again because its my post and its a good story. of course after this he signed with renault and everything went downhill from there.

but enough about the past. lets get into the present. starting with. practice.

i only watched practice 1 because i was on a train and the internet connection was bad At Best, but i feel like i got all I really needed to know from that.

we had three people in the box: anthony davidson, natalie pinkham and eventually they were joined by jenson button. this was a good and actually very informative practice session because anthony and jenson were both formula drivers who had driven around monaco in the car before.

(as an aside, nico rosberg was in the paddock for the monaco race, on account of the fact that he lives there, but he was not in the box, he was there with his company (?) rosberg ventures, his wife, and his commitment to looking like he has just stepped off of a boat at all times:)

(people also claimed that nico and lewis spoke to eachother in the background of a sky sports germany streaming clip, but no one could find the footage)

now, the interesting thing about monaco, according to anthony and jenson, is that the drivers cant do a track walk before the race because its a street circuit and monaco is pretty much the race track, some casinos, and very little else. so they only close the street for the race. so practice is very very important.

monaco is also an outlier track on the calendar because of how slow and techy it is. so every team brought a Monaco Specific High Downforce Rear Wing (to make car go faster) but no matter how good your rear wing is, if you get stuck in traffic on your qualifying lap then youre royally fucked.

(well, nearly everyone had a monaco specific rear wing, it was much later revealed that logan was using a 2023 rear wing because williams is still short on parts. whos suprised? literally no one)

according to jenson button, one thing is key in monaco and that is bravery. there are not many options to overtake, and if you get the opportunity you do. you also have to nearly clip the walls to make sure you are going as fast as you can and getting the best line. but at the same time, "one tiny slip up can cost you 2 or 3 places." so it is very important that you are on the top of your game.

so. monaco is about qualifying. often, whoever gets pole usually wins the race. with some exceptions, but this is true for the most part. so again, practice is important. and its important that you get as much practice in as possible, something that pierre gasley could not do because his car had a power unit issue and spent most of the session taken apart in pieces in the garage. ferrari were clear favorites heading into the weekend with their most recent batch of upgrades, as were mclaren (who were taking all of the curbs well, as in they could handle driving over them whereas some of the other cars couldnt). red bull were not. max even said "the car is on a knifes edge mate." but lets remember that max often complains to hell and back during parctice and then manages to qualify on pole. so dont get your hopes up (yet)

by far, the most interesting part of practice 1 was when they talked to mr james vowels, who was on pit wall call duty this weekend. mr vowels as we know is the williams team principal. and he was very "cautiously optimistic" about the weekend because the car was "well suited here."

they asked him if he was in talks with carlos, and he had the audacity to say "carlos who?" which is an interesting tactic. especially when its kinda down to either stake or williams for carlos cause he rejected everywhere else. he also continued his icon behavior while talking about vcarb, saying "dont ask me what they're called. alpha tauri, visa cash app, buy one get one free." and weirdly, he was not the only person to shit on a team name this weekend because ted managed to call alpine renault. alpine has not been renault since 2020.

charles's monaco curse made a brief appearance in the form of running over a bit of zhou's front wing and damaging his car, redflagging the session for everyone. they used this time to have a very very long pan to mark webber.

and. most interestingly. jos verstappen was back. for the first time since bahrain. this is interesting cause hes usually in the paddock a bit more than this, but he and horner were feuding for awhile, so maybe this means that everything has settled? whos to say, it is formula 1 after all. anything is possible!

and the f1 official account took that literally, as this was how they displayed oscar's name on the official practice 1 time boards:

even oscar was shocked:

oscars mom was so shocked that she adopted yuki

i dont think that yuki ever actually responded to this, but it was still nevertheless hilarious.

charles, meanwhile, who ended the session with damage on his car from the debris incident was less pleased with the results but still played along with the bit:

charles then got his revenge by coming in first in practice 2 and 3. mercedes also, weirdly was near the top. perhaps they were done being shit. perhaps it was too early to tell. any way you spin it, it was time for qualifying.

and this boat was so excited about qualifying that it beached itself like a whale.

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but anyway. qualifying.

and as christian horner said. "this race will be won in qualifying." because its hard to pass.

there was much at stake. such as if max verstappen were to get pole it would be his 9th consecutive pole position, which im pretty sure was either going to create a new record or tie with someone else's.

but first they had to get through q1. which was very hard to do, mostly because of traffic.

as we know. f1 cars want to go fast. monaco is tight, it is twisty, its relatively low speed and its a shorter track. and if everyone is trying to go as fast as humanly possible, it can be a bit tricky. the best they can get is a 3.6 second gap between each car, and that is if everyone was driving exactly equidistantly.

ted, down in the pit lane, came on the radio and said that when the broadcast was playing the intro (which he sang), everyone started pulling out of their garages and into the pit lane, then turned off their engines and sat in a "super market traffic jam queue" to reserve their spot to exit onto the track, so that they had as much time as possible.

and a short while later, our first batch of drivers were out: alonso, sargeant, perez, bottas, and zhou.

yes that is right, bit fernando alonso and checo perez were out in q1.

checo's radio about the ordeal was... interesting. "what a joke, fuck....ha." and personally i dont think that the red bull pit wall found any of it particularly hilarious, especially considering logan sargeant was able to go faster than him with LAST YEARS REAR WING.

they all lined up again for q2.

max and charles, notably, were on the same set of tires that they had been in in q1, so that they would have an extra set for q3, as the two of them would be battling it out for pole position.

aside from them, both of the alpines were in q2 as were both of the haas.

but all of that turned out be fruitless, except for pierre, who made it through to q3 and he was Thrilled. also through for the first time this season was alex albon, who was also Thrilled..

ocon, hulkenberg, ricciardo, stroll and magnussen were all out.

into q3.

max and charles were duking it out for pole position, but chasing them was none other than oscar piastri, also desperately trying to get his first career pole. and max was was still having problems. and red bull couldnt fix it. heading into the very last minute, the last lap, charles was in provisional pole, with oscar second, carlos third and lando fourth. max was on his last lap, flying around the track until his radio crackled to life with "ive hit the wall. man this car is slippery."

and so with max tapping the wall, he aborted his lap, putting him down in sixth spot. which meant we had a double lecerlc front row!!! a father son lockout !!!!

arthur and oscar continued the bit

they even shit on the joke in the press conference:

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oscar and carlos also seemingly ignored eachother in the immediate post interviews that they do on the track, but i cant find the clip so you'll just have to trust me

meanwhile, max was asked about his qualifying session and he said: "i would happily invite everyone in this paddock to drive that car and try to go faster than me"

and, when asked what he could do from p6, he said: "not much, we'll see. but I don't really care, haha!"

two people who Did care about qualifying were nico hulkenberg and kevin magnussen. who got disqualified from qualifying because their rear wings were slightly too wide.

surprisingly, the disgraced ex has team principal, gunther steiner, had something to say abut the incident:

so nico and kevin were both starting in the pit lane.

everyone else lined up for the race:

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: lando p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: yuki p9: alex p10: pierre p11: esteban p12: daniel p13: lance p14: fernando p15: logan p16: checo p17: valtteri p18: zhou

thankfully, everyone was able to survive the formation lap with no gearbox blowouts. lap one though, was a very different story.

first, carlos got a puncture. he and oscar had contact during the beginning of the lap and carlos fell back in the order, which is absolutely disastrous for monaco.

but then! a red flag was called! and it wasnt for carlos, it was for an incident between checo, kevin and nico. essentially, kevin tried to pass checo, but there was not enough space, so he ended up ramming into him, nico tried to get past them and instead got involved in the scuffle.

later, checo was adamant that he had not seen kevin, saying that: "if you saw my onboard, at no point do you see kevins car. not even close to being alongside me...there was just simply no room for both cars"

meanwhile kevin said: "he clears wasnt leaving space, i thought he would...my whole front wheel was ahead of his rear wheel...he just squeezed me into the wall."

nico, who was just collateral in the whole thing only said "ah damnit, that was unnecessary."

so it was a disappointing monaco race for both haas drivers, who found themselves out after also being DSQd from qualifying. and it seemed that checo was continuing his shitty monaco streak. perhaps this was the universe getting back at him for probably cheating on his wife.

anyway, everyone was wondering what the stewards were going to say about the ordeal because, as we know, kevin magnussen is only 2 penalty points away from missing a race. but the stewards elected to not pursue the incident further and no one received any penalties for the accident.

the marshals though decided to pose with checo's wrecked red bull:

the wrecked red bull in question:

but there was still one more lap one incident! and that was esteban ocon playing bumper cars with pierre gasley:

(that is esteban's alpine in the air)

pierre was rightfully pissed off, especially considering that he had gotten his highest start of the whole season, saying over the radio: "what did he do! what did he do! why did he try to attack me? oh my gosh! the whole car is damaged now"

later, pierre told the press:

“I’m just disappointed, you know. I’m just disappointed with Esteban, and it should not happen. And for the team, we’ve got 1200 people working for us. And we can’t afford to have this sort of behaviour. We had clear instructions before the race, and this hasn’t been respected. You should never take that much risk, take both cars out with your teammate. I’m sure it will be discussed, and we can’t afford to have a similar situation in the future.”

fortunately for pierre, they were able to fix his car during the red flag. unfortunately for esteban, they were not able to fix his and he had to retire from the race.

Esteban totally owned up to this as his own mistake on twitter, saying "today's incident was my fault, the gap was too small in the end and i apologize to the team on this one"

alpine team principal bruno famin was later quoted as saying the following about the incident (and i am pretty decently sure that this was a translation from french)":

“it’s exactly what we didn’t want to see. Esteban’s attack was totally out of circumstances. We will draw the consequences, we will decide straight away. If we were fighting for a podium finish at the end of the race, why not, and still… But there, on the first lap, at Le Portier, frankly, it wasn’t the place to make an attack, leaving zero room for his teammate.”

everyone took this to mean that esteban could be benched for Canada, the next race. there was mass speculation whether or not it was going to be mick schumacher or jack doohan subbing in for him at the Canadian gp, and aparently people got really mean to esteban about it because later in the week he came out with this statement. and because we live in a world where i cant update this post on time to save my life, i will include it here:

"much has been said in the aftermath of the monaco gp. while i have received many messages of support, i have been deeply saddened by the amount of abuse and negativity that i have received online regarding my character, my driving, and my career. thanks to the bard work, support and sacrifices of many people, ive raced in over 140 gps so far since my debut in 2016. i have always been a tough competitor, and, like most drivers, ive had my share of incidents. i have been lucy to race alongside talented and experienced teammates, including race winners daniel, checo and pierre and a double champion in fernando. as teammates, we would often start races very close to eachother which in some cases meant some tough battles on track, and sometimes contact. of course, i have made honest mistakes. we are not robots; we are athletes pushing ourselves to the limit every day to achieve our dreams of winning races. f1 is a sport where emotions run high, and passions run deep. i see and feel this every weekend at the track and on social media... the good and the bad. but the misinformed statements and gross distortions that i have seen online in recent days about my ability to work with a team have been inaccurate, hurtful and damaging. since my first laps in motorsport, i have approached this sport with humility, professionalism, and respect. these values were instilled in me from a very young age. while each driver chases individual glory, this will always be a team sport first and foremost. i have always followed to instructions i have been given and raced to achieve the maximum for and with my team. i took responsibility for the incident on lap 1 last Sunday an, despite my DNF, i am glad the team added a point to the tally in what has been a difficult start to the season for all of us. I respect pierre as a teammate and as a competitor. we have always worked collaboratively and professionally inside the team, and this will continue to be the case. there is no reward without risk in formula one - and race starts are intense, even more so in monaco where the opening lap can dictate your finishing result. in the end, we are all competitors and hard, fair racing throughout the field is what makes our sport so great and the main reason why i love this sport so much. im looking froward to committing in Montreal, in front of the fantastic canadian fans, and to the exciting opportunity the future holds."

esteban got a 10 second penalty for causing an incident, which he didnt serve because he didnt continue the race. and he has a 5 place grid penalty for canada.

but anyway! back to the red flag!

aston martin were once again serving during a red flag, as they had done last time:

people even compared fernando alonso to the woman with the pearl earring picture.

aside from that, the hot topic of discussion was Tire Strategy

without getting too far into the weeds here, everyone has to run at least two different tires each race, the options are soft medium and hard. which tire works best depends on the track, the temperature, and a million other factors. softer the tire the faster it will go, but it will also wear out faster. softs and generally used for qualifying and mediums and hards are the race tires.

now Technically, everyone had already run one kind of tire in the first start of the race. so they could change to a different tire, as long as it was a different compound tire, and not have to stop again for the entire race. only problem was that that was 70 long laps. and the tires might not last that long. but you lose 30 seconds on a pit stop and if not everyone is going to pit AND its monaco so its very hard to pass, would you be shooting yourself in the foot? probably.

so most people made the decision to run a different tire compound for the restart and see if they could make it to the end of the race without pitting. notably, the front half of the grid did this.

and finally, race control announced the restart order. this was going to make or break many people's races because some people had managed to pass a few cars on the original opening lap, but not everyone had gone through a time detention point when the red flag was called, so they were back at the original start order. meaning carlos sainz was back starting in third, despite his puncture that had caused him to drop back down the order.

take two! they all lined up:

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: lando p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: yuki p9: alex p10: pierre p11: daniel p12: lance p13: fernando p14: logan p15: valtteri p16: zhou

and away they went. everyone survived the first lap this time. everyone survived the next several laps, actually. no one passed anyone, though george did get pretty close to lando for a bit before he was told to back off to preserve his tires. he started to create a large gap to lando. max shit on him on his radio for being slow.

charles, oscar and carlos all traded fastest lap back and forth for awhile, but no one made eforts to pass eachother. oscar had lost a bit of downforce in the damage he had taken from his contact with carlos, but was otherwise fine.

many people started creating gaps to the cars in front of them, especially those in the points. george, yuki and fernando. the reason for this was to preserve their position on track and help keep their tires alive. so by f1 standards, it was a very slow race.

ted was not pleased with this. "hes trapped in a mercedes jail cell right now," he said about max. he wanted him to "have a bit of fun!"

max did not have any fun.

but, there was speculation among the top 4 that someone would pit and that someone might be lando. there was a 16 second gap to george behind him so he could pit and retain his position and have a shot at overtaking carlos who was on pretty dead hard tires for a podium spot. charles was even told to "drive even slower" to stop the gap between george and lando from increasing so that lando couldnt pit. charles thought this was utterly pointless cause his tires were already getting cold. and meanwhile oscar thought that charles had an issue because of how fast he was going.

"first lap was interesting. next 38 have not been as interesting" crofty said.

the only real interesting things were the team radios:

george: "i recommend about 3 seconds in the pocket here. just pootling around at the moment"

max: "fuck me this is boring. i should have brought my pillow."

charles, upon being told that his team want to hear about his tire margin because they didnt want that information to be known to other teams" "that's rude."

ultimately none of the top 4 ended up pitting. lance stroll pitted though, on lap 43, and he was able to retain his 11th position because fernando had slowed to create a gap for lance.

not even a whole lap later, lance managed to get a puncture and had to box again and got shoved back to the back of the grid, completely destroying all of the work that fernando had done for him. the tire ended up flying off of his car, but it landed right outside the pit lane and didnt cause a safety car, much to the general upsettment of lando who would have gotten a free stop.

still, a few other people pitted, including hamilton and verstappen, who retained their positions due to the gaps they had made.

hamilton got mad that he was not told to "hammer time" (go as fast as possible) when max was pitting, but despite this he was still able to take fastest lap.

still, mad max was back, jammed in the middle of the mercedes sandwich, and he was gaining on george, 2 seconds per lap. but no one had been watching max's battery, which was very low on power. so he had to back off a bit. still, by lap 62 he was able to get within 1.2 seconds of george. and george, somehow, had been able to save just enough juice in his tires to fend off max for the last 15 laps.

meanwhile, charles was still leading. 8 seconds ahead of oscar.

"i'll just bring it home" he told his engineer. and he did.

and now i'll toss it to alex jaques, who was announcing the race for the sky sports broadcast, to take us through the last lap:

"in 2017, charles leclerc lost his father. in his final days, he told his father a white lie. that he'd made it to formula one, that he'd signed the contract. it wasn't true, but his driving has made it true now. and look what he's done with the opportunity. the grandstands he saw built as a kid growing up now rise for him. and for the first time in 93 years, this fabled race is won by one of their own. charles leclerc wins the monaco grand prix, to achieve his dream!"

HE DID IT! HE DEFEATED THE CURSE!! HE HAD WON!!!!

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and pretty much everyone was happy for him. jenson was doing the post race interviews and charles made pretty much everyone emotional with what he said:

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the podium was filled with relief and joy and lots and lots of champagne. someone even gave the prince of monaco champagne. and fred vasseur, ferrari team principal, sprayed the prince of monaco with champage. hopefully he wouldn't get arrested for that!

everyone was so busy celebrating charles that they made him late to the post race press conference, so when it opened carlos and oscar were just sprawled out on the couches, chilling:

which was Astounding to everyone because these two seemingly hate eachother

oscar was so unbothered he even started stretching

carlos even addressed the situation between him and oscar, saying that:

"for some reason, oscar and i, we seem to have a magnet recently between each other for some reason that I don't understand, because we get on well and everything is okay, but we seem to always find each other on track"

charles did eventually show up, and most of the questions ended up getting geared towards him, naturally. he told everyone that he ate pizza for dinner the night before and that there was a period of the race near the end where he couldnt actually see because he had started tearing up, realizing that he was probably going to win.

and then, of course, like anyone would, charles went for a little dive in the harbor, after shoving fred in

aside from that. we had alex albon get points, yuki tsunoda get points AND pierre gasley get points. now the only team without points is stake. and lewis hamilton got the fastest lap, he now holds the record for most fastest laps with a single team, which is 54.

also, Kevin magnussens daughter told him to sign a fans book

it was also max's first non podium finish of the season. he found the race boring. not charles win boring, just the race. "no workout whatsoever, its just really really boring." and he and george said they were going to go for a run afterwards to get some exercise, because they didnt get any during the race.

he did congratulate charles on his win though! as did pretty much everyone else! and the italians were all beside themselves as well:

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as for oscar, he proudly proclaimed on social media that he should make every race his home race.

charles rode his bicycle home, and then got ready for an absolutely insane night out. which pretty much just consisted of him hiding under a monegasque flag (ghost moding) and clinging to his girlfriends hand for the whole night, looking positively lost in the sauce, along with everyone else who went (literally i think the whole country was partying)

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so! we have now had four different race winners in the first 8 races of the season. and tbh, as i have said. we could very well have a title fight on our hands here. lets take a look at the points:

max: 169 charles: 138 lando: 113 carlos: 108 checo: 107 oscar: 71 george: 54 lewis: 43 fernando: 33 yuki: 19 lance: 11 ollie: 6 nico: 6 daniel: 5 alex: 2 esteban: 1 kevin: 1 pierre: 1 zhou: 0 valtteri: 0 logan: 0

as charles said on that stream back in quarantine, "lando, we could be world champion i said"

(also. people were also quick to point out that max has not won at the three races that charles wrote songs about: monaco, miami and australia - mon, mia and aus)

everyone thinks that oscar could win canada. i say bring it on. see you next week!

Sorry i tried to scroll past but, i know nothing about f1 other than max verstappen is fast, my dad doesnt like lewis hamilton, fast car goes in a loop and sometimes expodes. Could you give me a crash course in f1 drama? Im very intrigued. Whats the tea as it were?

a terribly loaded question, but i will do my best. i’ve talked about some of the drama before like the red bull second seat and the chronicles of haas but allow me to briefly try my hand at explaining the nightmare that is the upcoming silly season

under the cut we go

silly season is when the drivers go through contract renewals, extensions and switches. usually it’s confined to the first half of the season (march-july) but it has been known to extend all the way to the last race of the season and they like to switch people around at random sometimes. driver contracts are complex, there’s a lot of money involved and basically You Are The Face Of The Team so if you have a shit season then you make the team look bad. but at the same time you could have a shit season because you have a shit car. it’s sticky stuff.

so. there are only twenty seats in formula 1. 10 teams. each team gets two drivers. (there’s also reserve drivers but we’re not going to get into that). who ends up with a contract is largely up to the teams, they can pull the contract out from under people they can also cut you mid season. they’ve done it before.

of the 20 drivers on the grid, 14 of them have contracts expiring at the end of the year. yes. 14. you see how this could get complicated.

so let’s meet the teams.

red bull racing. they came first this year (and last year) in the championship. like aggressively first. like they won the championship by over 350 points. they are definitely the team to beat. but if you end up with a seat at red bull, you do have to deal with max verstappen being your teammate and he won all but three of the races last year. he’s the golden boy. red bull are also notoriously silly when it comes to contracts and famously swap people mid season who aren’t performing.

mercedes. merc is home to 7 time world champion lewis hamilton and they have won the championship a great many times, though not since 2021. they are kind of in their flop arc and their car the last 2 years has been pretty garbage, but they have still made it work because they were able to come in second last year.

ferrari. god help the poor little meow meows with a ferrari contract. ferrari is a notoriously great team and they’re trying to get back to the top again but their strategy every single time has fallen short. to the point where their drivers are the ones doing the strategy in their cars while driving. they came in third last year and have been decently consistent at getting first in qualifying and then getting beat by max verstappen on race day.

mclaren. they’ve definitely worked their way up over recent years. they ended fourth last year and have had some championship wins before but not nearly as many as say merc and ferrari. their team ceo (owner? director?) is a little interesting and their car started out a pile of flaming hot garbage at the beginning of the year but they did manage to get their shit together.

aston martin. they are owned by canadian billionaire lawrence stroll, father of lance stroll (one of the drivers for the team). they’ve undergone several name changes over the recent years (force india, racing point, etc). they positively slayed at the start of the season and then one day they sucked. they finished fifth in the championship.

alpine. the frenchest french team. they’re (i think?) still partially owned by the french government. both of their drivers are french. (their drivers also hate eachother but we’ll get to that. just know they’re in the middle of a modern french civil war). they had the opportunity to have a good rookie driver (oscar piastri) this past year but in a thrilling twitter battle, he publically flamed the shit out of them and went to mclaren instead (and slayed). they're usually solidly middle of the pack. they ended sixth in the championship.

williams. williams has been one of the back of the grid teams for the last many years but they have finally started to get their shit together and don’t quite suck as much as they used to. all of the points this year were scored by only one driver though (except one but we’ll get there). they came in seventh.

alpha tauri. they are the sister team of red bull. so technically redbull owns both teams (meaning they can swap drivers between teams. they like doing this.) they’ve just kind of been There for awhile but they did slay towards the end of the season when one of their drivers led the race for several laps. basically tho, this team is the gateway to redbull. they came in eighth.

alpha romeo. recently renamed to stake f1 team (but sometimes they are going to be called kick sauber. this is a whole other drama post and i’m not getting into it). they’re also just kind of there. generally unproblematic. seems that really great drivers who get ixed out of a contract for a younger driver end up here or young drivers who are in their early years are here before they go to a better team. they ended ninth this year.

haas. oh haas. goofy team. they suck. point blank they suck. they keep loosing sponsors because they suck, they don’t win ever (one time they came first in qualifying last year). they cursed themselves in australia in 2018 by not tightening their tires and its been downhill ever since. they came 10th. their team principle got let go (fired?) who’s to say today.

so those are the teams. it is important to note that:

-there is a cost cap. each team is allowed to spend no more than 135m per year.

-not all cars are equal. some things are standard. they all undergo the same testing. but the cars are all very different. so you can be a good driver but stuck in a shitty car. which makes it impressive if you are doing well in a shitty car.

let’s meet our drivers!!!

starting with the guys who’s contract is not ending in 2024:

max verstappen. 3 time world champion. 26 years old. general beast on the track. he dominated the whole season. he’s currently racing for red bull and has a contract with them through 2028.

lewis hamilton. 7 time world champion. 39 years old. he drives for mercedes. he will not leave mercedes until he retires. he really really wants to win an 8th world championship and is willing to stick it out a few more years as long as merc still believes in him. his contract expires in 2025.

george russell. the other merc driver. 26 years old. hes aggressively british and says thinks like blimey unironically. walking meme. got his merc seat in 2022 right when they entered their flop arc by getting his tractor of a williams to finish second in qualifying in the middle of a rainstorm. his contract expires in 2025.

lando norris. mclaren driver. 24 years old. he has notably never won a race in his five years of formula one (mostly because right when his car finally was good enough max verstappen was 20 seconds ahead of anyone) but he is regarded as Very Good. he has only ever driven for mclaren. and even though there is another year left on his contract there is mass speculation that he will not renew his contract with mclaren after it expires and he may move up to one of the top teams (red bull, merc, ferrari) (tho i think he doesnt hate himself quite enough to go to ferrari). his contract expires in 2025.

oscar piastri. the other mclaren driver. 22 years old. this was his rookie season and he positively slayed. like people compared his rookie season to lewis hamiltons rookie season. he also had the positively funniest start to his rookie year because alpine announced that he would be driving for them (he had been their reserve driver and in the alpine academy) and he posted a tweet that basically said yeah thats false i never singed anything with you and im going to race with mclaren instead (he dodged a bullet) and then alpine tried and failed to sue him for $4m USD. he signed a contract extension with mclaren this year and his contract expires in 2026.

lance stroll. aston martin driver and son of the aston martin owner. hes doing ok, tho there was conspiracy that he wanted to quit and have a tennis career awhile ago. but basically since his dad owns the team it seems that hes guaranteed a seat for as long as he wants one.

so now. moving onto the good shit. the people who have contracts expiring in 2024. hold onto your hats people.

charles leclerc. (everyones favorite slutty little soup can). 26 years old. he is currently at ferrari and he has been since 2019. notably, he was given the longest contract in the history of ferrari after a stellar rookie season at sauber (renamed to alpha romeo, renamed to stake f1) where he got the tractor of a car consistently into the points. having the longest contract in the history of ferrari was a flex at the time, but now its likely how he will introduce himself at therapy sessions. ferrari have fucked this man left right and center up the ass with a plastic lunchroom spork. hes talented, he can drive, and he can drive well. but the strategy that ferrari has absolutely sucks. either something is wrong with the car (see him blowing out his gear box on the formation lap in monaco, his car completely crapping out and spinning into the barrier in brazil before the race even started) or they fuck up his pit stops or put him on the wrong tires and honestly its just frustrating. but will he leave??? likely not. you'd have to pry ferrari out of his cold dead hands and at this rate that might be where this is headed though there has been some minor speculation of him going to another team like merc or red bull, but merc doesnt have any open seats and red bull is a whole other dumpster fire of drama. ferrari are going to have to pay him a boatload of money to make him stay.

carlos sainz. the smooth operator. 29 years old. ferrari driver. previously carlos was at toro rosso (renamed to alpha tauri), renault (renamed to alpine), and mclaren before signing with ferrari. he has been at ferrari since 2021 and has voiced that he would like to stay with them for however long he can. there is speculation that lando might replace him at ferrari (but landos contract is not up until 2025) and there is also some speculation that alex albon might replace him. while charles is clearly the golden boy at ferrari, carlos is slightly slower but also definitely consistent. he was THE ONLY non red bull driver to win a race this past year, in Singapore after max verstappedn was knocked out of qualifying by alpha tauri reserve driver liam lawson (more on him later) and because he basically came up with his own strategy in the car while he was driving.

sergio perez. aka checo. red bull driver. 33 years old. and oh boy here's where we open the can of worms. checo was previously at racing point (renamed aston martin) and it was very near the end of the 2020 (?) season and he was out of a contract. he had a bonkers race where he was knocked to the back of the grid and then overtook everyone and somehow ended up winning (there is more to that story but just trust me) and christian horner, red bull team principle, mr ginger spice and definite disney villain called him and said congrats sir you have a seat at red bull! well. fast forward. hes been causing problems. problems as in crashing a lot, generally not doing great and pissing the crap out of red bull. it is basically guaranteed at this point that he will not be getting a contract extension. there was actually talk this year of him losing his seat mid season to one of the alpha tauri drivers, because remember, red bull owns both teams and they can switch them whenever they want to (and they have!) but ultimately this did not happen. even though checo has a seat at red bull until the end of 2024, its mass speculated that he is going to get switched with an alpha tauri driver, probably daniel ricciardo (more on him shortly) mid season because there is a speculated clause in daniels contract that says that if checo isn't performing well in the first few races daniel is getting his seat.

daniel ricciardo. 34 years old. alpha tauri driver. man oh man what a guy. outside of being the prankster of the paddock, he has one of the most batshit careers of anyone currently on the grid. he started out at red bull and was showing real talent and skill and was on track to win things (and was!) and was there until the end of 2018 when max verstappen (his teammate) started getting preferential treatment and also red bull started having a lot of problems with their engines (which were being outsourced from Renault (now alpine) and another team on the grid) and well very very long story short he made the surprise move of the century and decided to sign with Renault (which makes no sense they're the one with the engine problems) and was there for 2 years before moving again to mclaren where he was reportedly not treated very well and had a hard time driving the car so they mutually ended his contract with them early and he basically retired at the end of the 2022 season and became a red bull reserve driver. then halfway through the 2023 season alpha tauri ixed one of their drivers, nyck de vries, because he wasnt doing well and promoted daniel back up to a full time driver at alpha tauri (which we know is only a step down from red bull) but then he broke his hand in a crash in zanvort (?) and then he was replaced for a few races by formula 2 driver liam lawson (who we will also talk about) and then he came back to finish out the season in alpha tauri after he was cleared. daniel has admitted openly that he never should have left red bull and he was given bad advice to do so. hes towards the end of his career at this point and its well known that he Really Really wants to finish out his career at red bull again. he and max have already been teammates before and they do work well together and daniel is great driver (see his comeback in texas (or maybe it was brazil?) this year). so. Pretty Sure that daniels going to get either an extension at alpha tauri or go up to red bull. thats what we all want. get this man in a red bull we need him there biblically.

liam lawson. now technically liam is not actually a formula 1 driver. hes a formula 2 driver, but he was daniels replacement for five races and there has been some speculation and some confirmed news about him so hes getting included. when he was racing for f1 he was at alpha tauri. hes 21 and looks like he belongs in the movie grease. no one was expecting him to slay in formula 1 and he positively knocked everyones socks off. the scene: Singapore. which, if you'll recall, is the one race that a not red bull driver won. this was largely because liam lawson slayed the absolute game in qualifying. the qualifying part of racing determines what order the cars start in on the grid for the race and theres three parts, the first two parts the bottom 5 drivers each time get knocked out and then the top 10 complete for the last 10 spots. liam lawson knocked BOTH max verstappen and checo perez out of qualifying in the second round by going very slightly faster than them, effectively fucking up red bulls race and allowing carlos to win. and he also scored points in that race, which no one was expecting. now thats all fine and dandy, but here's the speculation: hemlut marko (im pretty sure) (who is somehow decently involved in the decision making at red bull though i couldn't tell you how) said that he thinks that liam lawson will be in an f1 seat no later than 2025. meaning that he will probably get offered a contract this year. and hes already raced for alpha tauri. red bull have sunk a good amount of money into him. they clearly want him. so if he gets offered an alpha tauri seat in 2025, that means theres a good chance danny rics is going to red bull. do you SEE how the plot here is THICKENED

yuki tsunoda. age 23. currently at alpha tauri. and fun fact, the only alpha tauri driver to race there the whole year. he had three separate team mates. he is slaying and hes often slept on. he has a bit of a temper and likes to shout on the radio and also hates working out (they had to force him to move to italy or something to work out, long story) but hes been kinda killing it. he led several laps in the abu dhabi race this year and hes decently consistent. people think theres possibility that he could get moved up to red bull on account of the fact that he is younger than daniel and clearly has more years in him,, but there is also possibility that he might not because red bull like to make stupid decisions. and if he doesnt get moved up to rebel, will he stay with alpha tauri? we don't know.

alex albon. age 27. currently a williams driver. alex albon is another one with a batshit career. he started out his rookie year in 2019 at alpha tauri then got moved up to red bull halfway through the year when red bull decided that pierre gasley wasnt doing a good enough job (more on him later) and stayed with red bull for a solid year and a half until he lost his seat in 2021 to checo. he has been with williams for the last two years and is basically carrying the team. like. williams as a team scored 28 points this year. and alex albon scored 27 of those 28 points. and as we know, williams is still kind of in their shit arc (though they are doing much better. they didnt score any points for a solid 2 (?) years. so this is an improvement.) and if you can get a shit car to perform you catch the eye of bigger teams. now, alex has already been a red bull driver. and he was on the cusp of podiuming two separate times when lewis hamilton ran into him. this (among a few other things) basically killed his chances at getting resigned at red bull because he wasnt ""performing"" and red bull are bitches who love to win. but some people think that red bull should give him another shot. like daniel, hes already been max's teammate and he can definitely drive. but theres also talk he might go to ferrari because ferrari think that he might compliment charles's driving style (or something). but going to ferrari at this point is kind of suicide. so.

logan sergeant. age 23. the only american on the grid. the other williams driver. he just finished his rookie year. he scored a grand total of one single point this season, in texas, and it was because charles leclerc and lewis hamilton both got disqualified because the floor of their car had more wear (by literally less than millimeters) than it was allowed to, bumping him up from 12th to 10th. he has never done better than alex albon. he was also the very last driver to get a contract for 2024, with williams waiting until i think december of 2023 to announce his contract extension. clearly, hes on thin ice. but people have also said that he needs time to get used to formula 1 (other people have pointed out that oscar piastri slayed his rookie season this year and this statement about needing time is largely false). where logan ends up next year though will largely depend on how well the 2024 season goes for him.

fernando alonso. 42 years old. many people like to point out that oscar piastri is actually younger than fernando's racing career. he won tiktok creator of the year (somehow) and is also a 2 time world champion. he retired a few years ago, just to show back up again and slay. during the first half of the season when aston martin had a zoom zoom car he killed it, and then they had problems on top of problems and he didnt do well. except for that one race in brazil where he came in third, beating checo by literally .05 seconds. he hasn't really made any hints about retiring a second time and he is kind of carrying aston Martin right now (he scored 205 points this season, coming in 4th and tying in points with charles leclerc, lance stroll only scored 74 points this year.) and they did have their best year yet this year. (though they are relatively new).

pierre gasley. 27 years old. french. drives for alpine. the french team. previously he raced with toro rosso (now alpha tauri), then got promoted to a red bull driver in 2019, then halfway through the season they decided he wasnt doing a good enough job and he got demoted back down to alpha tauri. then he won a race with alpha tauri just to stick it to red bull. after the great oscar piastri contract twitter war, he was signed as alpines second driver, with Esteban ocon being the other driver (more on him soon). estie bestie and pierre (both french) were childhood friends and now hate each other for unknown reasons and basically feuded on the track for most of the season. french civil war at alpine. he scored 62 points in 2023 and came in 11th. not really sure where he will end up, it is possible that he will stick it out at alpine.

esteban ocon. 27 years old. also french. currently driving for alpine. another one with a silly bonkers career. he started out at force india and had a baller few seasons there but his teammate at the time was checo, and checo didnt really cooperate with him too much and caused some drama that cost estie bestie some places and some points. max verstappen also beat him up in the garage once. thats not really relevant but it did happen. anyway, after the owner of force india was arrested for .... i don't remember what maybe it was embezzlement or bankruptcy or something money related, the team was backed by lawrence stroll and became racing point. but all of that happened mid season and lawrence was basically like look ill back you guys for now but next year my son gets a seat (lance) so one of you two (checo and estie bestie) have to go. and ultimately they let estie bestie go even though he was more consistent because checo had more sponsors and they needed money. so he was out of formula 1 for a few years (but was a merc reserve driver) and then went to Renault, which then became alpine. he did come in 12th though overall this season, just behind pierre. so. will alpine keep both him and pierre and keep the civil war going? whos to say.

nico hulkenberg. 36 years old. haas driver. in his 200+ f1 races he has never been on the podium and he really really wants to be on the podium. unfortunately this will never happen in a haas because haas fucking sucks. and everyone knows it. he is getting towards the end of his career though. though! stake f1 will become the mario Andretti and audi team in 2026 (don't question it) and they have supposedly voiced interest in nico. so we will see if he hangs on that long to end up at audi. for now tough, hes definitely hating it at haas. though, haas are going to have a different team principle next year so maybe that will change things. i have a sneaky feeling through that haas will probably end up with another 2 rookie drivers because everyone else is smart enough to not race for them.

kevin magnussen. 31 years old. haas driver. hes another deeply interesting character. he has had one podium. in his rookie season. in his first race. and none since. kevin started at haas in 2017 and then left at then end of 2020 when he basically got kicked off because the team needed money and they wanted to bring in drivers with more sponsorships. these drivers were mick schumacher and nikita mazepin. so kevin basically was forced to retire after the 2020 season. this went decently well for haas. until russia invaded ukraine right before the start of the 2022 season and, well, nikita was Russian and it was never distinctly proven that his dads company (who was sponsoring the team) wasnt also funding the invasion. so nikita got fired and they were literally like 2 weeks out from the start of the season, down a driver. who are you gonna call? kevin magnussen! and hes been back ever since. but hes clearly getting annoyed with haas. there was one great clip from this year where his car caught on fire and he kind of just stared into to, clearly hoping it would burn for a long time. so the likelihood of him extending his contract is looking slim.

valtteri bottas. 34 years old. currently a driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo, kick sauber, whatever you wanna call it). previously, he was a mercedes driver and notoriously helped lewis hamilton win a great many championships, until he lost his seat to george russell in 2022. there was a rather awkward part of the 2021 season where valtteri knew that he was out of a merc seat the following year and kind of just chose violence. he slayed. then he went to alpha romeo, grew a mullet and made a calendar of his ass. quite the glow up if you ask me. hes also very interested in cycling. honestly though, i have my own personal speculation that hes going to retire at the end of this year.

zhou guanyu. 24 years old. driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo/kick sauber, etc etc). hes doing alright. he just finished his second season, in his first season he was majorly out qualified by valtteri but this past season he managed to out qualify him a good 6 times. which is decently good for the tractor of a car hes driving. its possible that he could get a contract extension, but like logan, its probably going to depend on how the 2024 season goes for him.

and thats all the drivers. theres also a few others i didnt talk about, like some other f2 drivers who want seats and mick schumacher, who is currently a merc reserve driver, all of which could be contenders for f1 seats. but one things for sure. this is going to be the silliest fucking silly season.

feel free to add on and peer review me

[drakinq]

Dance 05/01-05/04

Monday 050123 -

I took Jasons class Monday night while running on an hour of sleep. But I swear it was the best freestyle I’ve ever released. I really felt like I was exploring. The reason I was so bent on taking Jasons is because after a long weekend of work and not dancing, I’m finally ready to push myself to get back on top of the training I said I was going to get into all year.

I tried to hop in Matts after but he was so far ahead already I wasn’t able to catch up. I already know about myself that Matt’s style isn’t my favorite but I know how much it would benefit my skills to train under him. But this particular night, I think it was safe to call it a wrap. I was only on an hour of sleep and had my wisdom teeth removal and decided to go home. I want to try again next week but now I know I have to be on time to his shit.

Tuesday 050223 -

This day I got my wisdom teeth out and jumped straight into Andys. It helped it was the same dance for in the lab last weekend but I felt like I didn’t get to fully commit to that anyways. So it was a good class for me personally, with my face swollen and all. Either way I felt super confident in that dance by the end. Marlyn and Niki came in late and I was fine until the end when Andy didn’t put me in the same group as them, but instead a group where I was the only one that knew the dance. I was trying not to overthink it, but of course it lingered in the back of my mind if I’m just not as good as Marlyn. Personally from my own movement I would have loved to see more character and power behind each move. Andy asked me if I battled after because my freestyle was so good and I loved that.

The second class was Niki and it was fight till the end. I was trying how to figure out how to find my own approach to her style but I still felt off. I watched Marlyn do the dance and she did amazing. Of course she popped up all over my instagram the next day with videos of her and Niki and it wasn’t my favorite thing to see. It feels like she’s surpassing me and I wouldn’t care so much if we actually liked each other, but now that I see her true colors towards me, I can’t help but notice. Either way Niki said she could review the dance with me Sunday which is perfectly on training schedule since Sundays are review days.

Wednesday 050323

Wednesday was Tre’s house class. I was late and made it to the last 30 minutes but I def think it’s good for me to start taking that class consistently. I liked the across the floor drills and I feel like if I go every week, by the time the Link comes, I’ll actually have some training in that style under my belt.

Thursday 050423

Rhythmhood session was last night and once again I feel like it was some of my best solo freestyle. The reason I wanted to start going was so that I could push myself to hop in cyphers but it didn’t happen last night. I’m trying not to be too hard on myself because at least I came. I’ve been showing up all week so I feel like I just need to try again next time. Lam also gave me some great information on Hiphop which I feel the need to study and indulge in.

…

Tonight is the lab session that I’m working by myself once again. I’m tired of being the only one that works the session. I want to dance too. I’m trying to ignore the fact that the other reps are in projects while my dance career is dry right now, but I do think about it often. I know I’m still training and just trying to take advantage of feeling consistent for my own confidence. I already know Marlyn is gonna be there tonight with her friends all cliqued up which annoyed me the last time. I’m trying to figure out a way I can still be a great host and not feel insecure and not feel like all the work rely’s on me. WWMD, what would Monyett. I would love to be not the only one that works the session but even then I feel like the others don’t work as hard as I do to make the sessions great they are more focused on dance. But I think tonight will be a great example of me trying to set the example. As far as Marlyn, I’m just gonna have to work business per usual.

[theirloveisgross]

alright, i'll bite. thanks @milfmas for the tag to answer these questions in preparation/for louis' 32nd birthday.

when did you become a louie?

april 2021, i had just turned 32 myself. that's beautiful.

your earliest fandom memory?

i think my introduction to louis, which was on my instagram explore page. it was riddled with harry videos being silly on stage. eventually videos of 1D started to pop up too, but i distinctly remember a funny tiktok of someone enacting 'a day in the life of harry' and louis featured there and well-

your favourite song? (one off walls and one off fitf)

the song off walls changes all the time, but today it's only the brave. off fitf it will most likely always be all this time.

your favourite music video?

oooh... i think silver tongues. i love ooms as well.

your favourite gig?

one that i've been to... i think malaga's afhf. here, a pic from my phone.

one that i didn't... both philly shows, and fitfwt's nyc show. and ltwt's mexico night 3. ugh, so many good ones actually.

your favourite louis hair?

all of them. 😌

your favourite louis interview?

louis tomlinson explains his tattoos.

suit louis or tanktop louis?

tanktop. those arms deserve to be worshipped as much as possible thank you.

favourite louis tattoo?

something about the rope tattoo...... also looooove his knuckle tats.

favourite louis bodypart? (c'mon we all have one!)

his gray hairs and smile and hands and tummy and arms and thighs and eyes and ass. 😌

please, feel free to do this if you see it and want to do it! :)

[heartsleevemag]

Intimacy and Image: A Conversation with YOUR ANGEL, A Star in the Headlights

It’s an age-old story, the small-town artist moving to the big city to pursue big dreams. But for LA-based singer, songwriter, and producer YOUR ANGEL, it’s more than a cliche.

Last Friday, YOUR ANGEL released her anticipated sophomore album, A Star in the Headlights. The LP has a heart of its own. Each song manages to be unique, vulnerable, and intriguing while exploring themes like insecurity, confidence, and strength, over a backdrop of dreamy, sweeping pop tracks. Citing influences like Britney Spears, Portishead, and Timbaland, YOUR ANGEL said of the album, “I wanted to write songs that hit so close to home that they make you feel nostalgic, even though you’ve never heard them before.”

Photos by Rachel Filler

It’s apparent that lived experience colors YOUR ANGEL’s writing style; the album’s dependence on broad synths and harmonies doesn’t take away from the boldness of its lyrics. In fact, it adds to them. The production is big and grand when it needs to be, and no-bullshit when it doesn’t. It’s clear that this was exactly the idea; “The album explores the feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, jealousy and weakness that I felt while on this transformative path,” YOUR ANGEL commented, and those ups and downs of self-exploration are reflected in the album’s progression.

It’s also reflected in the visuals created for the album. The album’s opening track, “STAR,” received a narrative-driven music video that borrows from some of Hollywood’s most classic films to tell the story of the beauty and horror of trying to make it in Los Angeles. “This video was meant to feel like the painfully familiar form of heartbreak all artists in this city experience daily," YOUR ANGEL shared about the visual, directed by Madeleine Leary with cinematography from Frank Rios. The team desired to “toe the line between beauty and heartbreak in a pursuit of something bigger, so we looked at films like Showgirls, Paris, Texas and Casino to try to nail the right balance of gorgeous and grotesque.” You can check out the video below.

I was lucky enough to be able to ask YOUR ANGEL about the album and the process of coming into her own as an artist.

HS: As soon as I finished the album, I immediately needed more. So I listened to your debut, Pipe Dream, and I absolutely loved it. But the sound is different; how would you say you progressed, between the making of that album and this one?

YA: Thank you!! Honestly, I think the biggest way I progressed was just by getting way better at production. I also leaned into my love for pop music more than I ever had before.

HS: Was anything cut from the album? What kind of things ended up in the reject pile? Do you think you’ll release them?

YA: There was actually only 1 song cut from the album! I’m definitely not an artist that makes 100 songs and chooses 10, I usually write an album front to back. As far as that one song goes, I don’t think she’ll ever see the light of day.

HS: On Instagram, you said that you were embarrassed about fulfilling “the narrative” – about being an artist that moves from a small town to LA. How did that feeling translate into what you created for A Star in the Headlights?

YA: I didn’t really mean I was embarrassed about being an artist that moved from a small town to LA in the eyes of the world, I mostly meant among my peers. A lot of people in the music industry grew up in LA. I don’t think that feeling necessarily impacted the making of this record, but me getting over that feeling majorly impacted the visuals. I allowed myself to go all out pop star with no shame for the rollout of this album. It was super fulfilling!

HS: In making the video for STAR, you said that you wanted to acknowledge the “bravery and cruelty” of being an artist in the city, and the best and worst tropes about LA. What are those tropes to you? How do you avoid falling into the bad ones?

YA: The music industry is just inherently ugly. Money and fame can really skew people’s perspective and moral compass. Talent is only the tip of the iceberg if you want to be successful, especially if you didn’t grow up in this city. You have to be able to outwork everyone around you, be consistently putting out work, and be at the right place at the right time. It can be really soul crushing to work so hard and have to be okay with seeing no result and then do it again and again. But that’s just the name of the game and at the end of the day I am just grateful to even be pursuing my childhood dream.

HS: Is there anything that you hope listeners take away from the album?

YA: I just hope this album makes people feel seen, and like there is beauty intertwined in some of life’s most unattractive emotions.

You can listen to A Star in the Headlights by clicking here or searching wherever you stream music. And to get to know YOUR ANGEL, you can follow her on Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook.

[ohoethoughtsandabsurdities]

Antediluvian. (Murky days, days during the rise and fall of man from genesis… and other words)

->of or belonging to the time before the biblical Flood "My head falls back and the walls crash down. And the sky and the impossible explode. Held for one moment I remember a song. An impression of sound. And then everything is gone forever. A strange day"- A Strange Day by: The Cure.

My personal use of social media?

The platforms I frequent the most are as follows:

- Instagram

- Spotify

- Spotistats. FM

- Pinterest

- TikTok

- Youtube

These platforms are mainly to entertain me while also being capable to be used while multitasking.

Pinterest for example, I could be mindlessly scrolling through my many Pinterest boards catered to my explore pages while listening to a video essay on something niche that caught my attention. while simultaneously I listen to music just to make sure my listening stats are up to date. (the worst hobby a person could have, IMO: Audio quality- it'll be a painful and expensive journey for those down the strenuous path of finding the best audio qualities known to man. & being obsessed with music... just take it from me- you absolutely do not want to be obsessing over how many minutes you passed streaming music from the 80s within the past four weeks...)

As for how much time I spend on average, I think I actually cut down on time since I finally got a new phone so my screen statistics are slightly off for this month. But I will still include what I can.

On average my estimate is of 8hrs on no schooldays, it probably gets reduced to 4 hrs during school.

I spend about 13,300+ minutes streaming music

My social media experience is mostly positive I think?

I tend to use it as quick means to fill up my head with more thoughts and potential ideas for new art, and other creative projects that will pop into my head. I hardly have time to actually wallow and compare myself toothers's happier and more active social life ( I am hyper-aware that social media is only intended to be a gallery of people's social highlights only.) And whatever people decide is a 'decent' thing to post online. Instead, I wallow around because of sillier things -> not being the physical manifestation of particularly odd classical paintings.

But I do see the negativity of constant social media usage especially if you practically grew up with it as a child.

However, in a peculiar way, I always avoided certain platforms due to secondhand knowledge of others' horrible and depressive experiences with certain social platforms. ( I'm reminiscing about the fact that I avoided the entire early 2010's Tumblr fandom community and the very much harmful community of certain 'aesthetic' blog accounts. But I do feel like I missed out on expressing my thoughts so I will probably be making it up in my 20s as I keep jotting down the strangest flickering thoughts.)

oh well now isn't this funny? I ended up getting Tumblr for a class. It is an easier way to blog than I originally anticipated.

[official-wonho]

The secret to Wonho's abs: two 2-hour gym sessions and no instant ramen

K-pop's resident beefcake shares his well-oiled fitness and diet routine

K-pop idol Wonho's love of fitness is something he developed only when he started training to become a performer, which makes his status as the industry's resident hunk even more impressive. Even if you've never heard any of his music (we recommend you hit ‘add to library’), you've likely seen a fancam or two of him grace your Twitter timeline or Instagram explore page. To put it plainly, he's got a rockin' bod.

All abs, thighs and arms, Wonho has been a staple in K-pop since 2015 when he debuted with the group Monsta X, who quickly became known for the masculine ‘beast idol’ concept. Since 2020, he's embarked solo, infusing that strong outer appearance with something more vulnerable. He's just released his second single album Bittersweet, which he's been promoting since early October. The promotions for a K-pop idol are gruelling and intense. Never just about an expertly conceptualised music video, they also include early start appearances on music shows, long interview days and ‘fan calls’ that involve a steady stream of Facetimes with fans who win the chance to talk to their fave starts off the back of buying albums. The process is a well-oiled machine, and so is the fitness routine and diet that Wonho has developed alongside it.

Not one to shy away from a revealing stage costume that shows off his six-pack in equal measure to his dance moves, or to entice fans with an expertly taken thirst trap, it's obvious Wonho has mastered the balance required to maintain one of the most jacked physiques in music and the gruelling reality of promoting as an idol. Here he explains what it takes to be the adonis of K-pop.

Workouts

"Monday morning I will work out my chest and then after I'll do my back and shoulders. Then the next day it will be my arms and my lower body, and then I'll repeat myself. So I spend four hours working out in total per day. I'll divide it up into the morning and the night, and then as well as that I'll also do a one-hour cardio workout. There are two types of ab workouts that I do after the main workout. I'll use the machine called hanging raise, and then I'll also work out with the cable, and I'll do 10 sets every single day. Seven days, every week.

So my favourite workout would be exercising my back because I often feel that I've worked out really hard and have that fulfilling feeling, I guess. I hate working out my chest because it's hard to get the posture right and I have back pain so, it's kind of hard to do it. I start off my set with free weights without using the machine, and I'll use the equipment in every gym that I would like to try out. There's a lat pulldown machine from the Italian brand Panatta that I really like.

For most Korean artists, when we start our album promotion [schedules] are packed and really tight, so many artists will sleep for, like, one or two hours and then get up and do another schedule. Whenever I don't get enough sleep, in the morning I often feel like giving up that day. But I'll never skip my workouts, especially because my face will bloat. So if I don't do it before the schedule, I'll do it during.

During the pandemic, it was really hard for me to work out in the gym. In Korea, many of the gyms were closed, but I had my own gym and supplements in my house. So I would use those to work out, but I also went outside a lot instead. Even if I couldn't focus on weights, I kept on working with my dancing and being mobile. [To dance] I do a lot of stretching and I use a foam roller constantly which helps a lot with balance. I think because I practice a lot of dancing, regardless of my muscles, [that fluidity] just naturally comes."

Diet

"I start my morning by training, and after working out I'll drink an oatmeal juice. For my first meal, I eat chicken with carrots, broccoli, kale and rice, and for my second I eat beef rump with rice. Then, in between my dinner and the second meal, I'll have another oatmeal juice. For dinner, I'll have white fish, again with rice, carrots, broccoli and kale, and I'll finish it off with egg whites. Sometimes I'll also eat pineapple for digestion.

It's probably a special case for me, and I don't think it will apply to many other people, but I often think of my fans or of being in front of a camera, and so naturally, it makes me handle my appetite and drive me further. It's like a motivation for me."

Vices

“My favourite food is ramen, but ramen is often recognised as an instant food and something that's not good for your health. But I can never resist it, so whenever I finish shooting a music video, or after my album promotion, I'll eat it. But since I have a photoshoot coming up, I won't have it yet.”

Skincare and beauty

"I don't use any specific skincare. I don't really know how to care for my skin, to be honest, so I will just use things that I see in front of me. For example, when I go to the gym they will have skincare that people can use, so I'll just use that.

I do love using perfume, though. My favourite is, and sorry to use a swear word, called Fucking Fabulous Eau de Parfum by Tom Ford."

Source: gq-magazine.co.uk

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️

word count: 22.9k

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol

//

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

- Invisible String, Taylor Swift

//

Harry huffs a sigh of relief as he stumbles his way up the last steps of the staircase, being greeted with the familiar sight of the front door to his flat. His shoulders are hunched from the stress of a long day, still getting used to the hectic routine after coming back from the holiday season. Eyelids blinking slower with each step, he sniffs as he reaches for his set of keys in the side pocket of his backpack. Cold drops of rain slide down his neck from his hair and his face feels cold from the whisks of wind that whipped around him in the short jog from the tube station to his building. His feet are sore from standing around for so long, and the beginning of a headache sparking under his temple, making him frown as he takes a beat too long to unlock the door. To say he’s tired would be an understatement, and as much as the warm scent of the vanilla candles welcomed him are soothing, he can’t help but ache for a hot shower.

His bag drops to the floor with a faint thump. The sound of the television takes over the small space, and not long after he shrugs himself out of his coat he catches the sight of a recognizable set of  curls from Julia’s spot in the couch across the room, snuggling against the cushions with a bright pink blanket wrapped around her and a big bowl of popcorn popped in her lap. Harry envies her for a moment, for getting the chance to work as she’s cozied up inside their warm apartment. From where he stands, he can still feel Julia’s gaze taking in his undoubtedly drained appearance, her expression softening a bit.

“Rough day?”

“Jus’ tired.” He reaches up to pull out the hair tie that keeps part of his locks from his eyes, massaging his scalp as he does so. “S’raining a lot.”

“You should’ve taken my umbrella.”

“I’m not going out in public with that.” He scrunches his nose, a hand resting on the wall for support as he reaches down to take off his vans, the shoes suddenly becoming too tight on his feet.

He’s referring to the umbrella she got  roughly a year ago. She had bought it for her mom at a souvenir store and forgot to take it with her on her flight back home for the holidays, so when she came back she’d made the decision to keep it. The top of it is filled with all sorts of typical figures related to London, big red cabins illustrated on the material, surrounded by matching busses and marching soldiers, and of course, an image of a couple Big Bens standing tall next to it. It’s nothing too bad, Harry reckons there’s many uglier gifts she could’ve gotten, but it’s far too touristy for him not to cringe at the thought of parading it around.

Julia scoffs at him, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. “Buy your own then!” She brings her attention back to the screen in front of her. “Or just catch a cold from walking around in the rain, see if I care.”

He breathes out a laugh at her dramatics, scratching his nose slightly and feeling his icy skin as he makes his way to the bathroom, not indulging further in the banter with his flatmate. Once he’s locked in, Harry can’t help but shrug out of his clothes in an almost impatient manner, eager to finally wash the tension and sweat off of his body.

He takes his time when he finally gets under the hot jet of his showerhead, not holding back a relieved sigh  as the water hits his skin with a hard pressure that’s just as painful as it is satisfying.

When he sees Julia again, stepping out of his room clad in an all grey sweats set (except from a couple paint stains decorating the sweatshirt, result of an art course he attended a few months ago), she’s sitting straighter against the cushions, her hair now up in a ponytail, a small computer propped on her lap taking the place of the popcorn bowl, that’s now by her side. She peeks at Harry for a second from under her glasses before focusing again on typing something he assumes must be work related.

“You know, for someone who’s a fashion major you sure have a questionable taste in clothes.” She doesn’t look up from her screen as she teases.

“When I have money for Gucci I’ll make sure to parade it around the flat.” His steps are still lazy as he reaches the messy counter that separates the kitchen area from where Julia sits on the living room couch. Not paying any mind to the stacks of course books and loose papers on top of it, he leans to rest his hands over the mess. “Until then, you're stuck with my paint-stained sweats. Tea?”

“I’m good.”

Harry’s hand hits the countertop with a faint thump as he turns. The wooden cabinets creek as he opens them in order to locate a hand painted blue mug with colorful little chicks dancing around it. He rests it on the counter as he reaches for the kettle to fill it with water. A woman’s voice takes over the space, her tone pitching louder in enthusiasm as she comments on the name of a couple artists. He recognizes some from scrolling around Spotify playlists or seeing it written on magazines before.  Glancing over his shoulder, Harry catches an image of a red carpet of sorts being transmitted on the screen. An awards show.

It’s the kind of program Harry’s gotten quite used to seeing by now. From the moment Julia landed an internship at a music magazine, there had been enough occasions in which she had to write a piece regarding an award show. Usually, though, those evenings are prompted with the presence of her girlfriend, Blake, (who happens to be Harry’s classmate -- and he still prides himself in his matchmaking skills for introducing them to each other)  who enjoys making snarky comments about people’s outfits as Julia gushes over their performances. Harry’s even joined them a couple times when those nights are held at their flat and not over at Blake’s, not much so for the content -- actually finding most of it boring -- but more for the company. It’s about listening to the two girls bicker as he steals a handful of Julia’s popcorn.

The odd setting of that night doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, though, and once the kettle’s set on the stove he turns to her, leaning back on the counter,  “Is Blake not coming tonight?”

“She left early ‘cause she promised to babysit for her neighbors. Oh! You got mail, by the way.” She doesn’t look up from her computer as she motions with her head to the spot on the counter in front of him where a couple letters sat, some with their seals already ripped.  “Quite fancy if you ask me.”

Harry frowns slightly, not expecting any mail, much less anything fancy. sure enough, it doesn’t take him long to spot the one she’s talking about, as the black envelope easily stands out amongst the regular ones as well as his name written in cursive letters on top of it. When he picks it up, turning it around, he notices a small leaf branch with a golden ribbon attached to the front by a wax seal matching its color (it’s the first time Harry’s actually seen anyone seal a letter like this outside period tv shows and satisfying video compilations on his instagram explore page, and it only helps to deepen the crease between his brows). He can make out the figure of a fern engraved on the seal, but no other indication of the content inside of it.

With a quick motion, Harry breaks the seal, barely catching the tiny branch mid-air as it falls to the ground. He leans forward, resting his arms on the counter as he retrieves the card resting inside. It takes a single read of the words printed on it  for him to realize what's it all about. A wedding invitation. One he’d completely let slip from his memory that was even happening in the first place. Not that he could be blamed for it, considering the last time he’d chatted with the bride and groom he was seventeen living under his mum’s roof a good four-hour drive away. It’s still nice of them to have him in mind, Harry thinks, setting the letter down once he hears the whistling sound of the kettle behind him.

Not thinking much more of the mail, he moves around the small space of the kitchen, humming along to an overplayed song that comes up on the telly, as he finishes preparing his cuppa. Once he’s done, he walks to the couch, making himself comfortable on the opposite end to where Julia sits. His eyes set on the screen in front of them just as an older woman, with her hair pulled back and a silver gown cascading down her body, speaks into a microphone.

“So, what are we watching?” Harry asks with a sip of his tea.

“The Grammys.”

Harry’s brows shoot up. “Is it today already?”

“Yup.” Julia says, not looking up from her computer as she keeps typing. “Have to write an article about it.”

“Look at you!” Harry stretches his arm to bump on his friend’s shoulder. “Getting that permanent spot, I see.”

“Trying to.” She glances at him, motioning with her head to the counter where the mail now lays open. “What have you got there?”

He reaches for the half empty popcorn bowl resting by her side, stealing a few pieces and quickly tossing them into his mouth. “A wedding invitation.”

“Ew, who eats popcorn with tea.” His friend states, moving the bowl to her other side, out of his reach  “A wedding? Since when do you have friends who have their lives together?”

“It’s an old mate, back from school days and all that.” Harry shrugs. “Haven’t spoken to him in a bit, though.”

“Are you going?”

“Think so.” He takes another sip, unpocketing his phone from his sweats. “Will be good to see everyone again.”

Julia simply hums in response, and, as Harry focuses his attention on his phone, he can hear her typing resume. For a while they stay like this, as he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feeds, even answering a text or two --which is rare for Harry since he often left messages unopened for days - except for a comment or two coming from her side of the couch. Every now and then he glances up to the bigger screen, either when he’s asked for his opinion on someone’s outfit or when Julia wants to know whose designer is behind it -- and Harry prides himself on recognizing most of them, having studied their collection campaigns for his marketing class in his last term. What calls his full attention, however, is the mention of a particular name, making his ears perk up and his eyes glue themselves to the screen.

It’s not unusual for him to hear your name, of course it isn’t, as you have settled on  top of several radio spots for the past year or two. He’s grown used to hearing your name plenty, but it doesn’t get any less odd for him, to have what once was such a familiar face  become such a distant yet still reocurring figure.

Going through a breakup, especially when it’s your first relationship, is already hard enough as it is. Harry reckons most people probably do their best to distance themselves in order to heal and move on, try not to think of the person who hurt them. But it’s not like he had much of a choice with you. He could delete all your pictures from his computer, wipe it all , hide the letters and polaroids in a box under his bed and he still wouldn’t be able to run away from you. It’s as if the moment he was out of your life you’d grown bigger than either of you could’ve imagined as you lied together on his bedroom floor. In a matter of a year or so your name was up in lights, your face greeted him everywhere he went; that being printed in the front of the gossip magazines lined together as he checked out his groceries, or at an editorial cover as he studied for his design theory class. There wasn’t much of an escape.

It was hard in the beginning, of course it was. Mainly  when he inevitably had to read the scandalous headlines about you being all over some big haired bloke from a boyband at some extravagant party in West Hollywood. Yeah, that was a hard one. But as most things in life, Harry had to get over it eventually. And with you quickly becoming more and more out of his reach, your image being just as sweet as it is strange of a memory to him, he  learned how to desensitize himself.

That  doesn’t mean he’s not curious, though, which is what shifts his focus to the tvonce he hears your name. Sure enough, there you are, the most familiar stranger he’s ever known. Your smile is discreet, but still charming in a way that makes whoever’s watching you want to know what kind of secrets you’re keeping, and Harry can’t help but wonder as well. He doesn’t recognize the emerald sequined dress you have on (and makes a mental note to check later who it from) and he figures it was probably custom made for you, as it hugs your body perfectly. He doesn’t mean to notice that, he really doesn’t, but as the camera zooms in, panning from your golden heels, up your leg that appears from the side slit of your skirt as you walk down the carpet, and stopping at your face, still sporting a smirk as you divide your attention between different photographers screaming your name, he can’t help but notice how good you look.

“Look at her.” Julia sighs, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. That's when he realizes he’s slouched forward.. Relaxing back into the cushions, he takes another gulp of his tea, which has gotten considerably cooler as it rests forgotten on his lap. “Don’t blame you for being her groupie, I would too, if I had the chance.”

“Wasn’t a fucking groupie, I told you that.” Harry rolls his eyes at his friend, knowing her love for torturing him since she’s learned the information of his past relationship.  “We dated before she even set foot in America.”

“So?” She looks at him, eyebrows shooting towards her hairline as she keeps nudging. “You were her first groupie before she even had them.”

He shakes his head. “Enough with the groupie talk, please, not in front of my tea.”

“I’ll never fully process the fact that you dated her.” Julia pushes the topic, her hand motioning to your image still being shown on the telly. “You got to kiss her and everything! Wild.”

“Julia, can you stop talking about my ex and write whatever it is that you have to.”

“Not when your ex is one of the biggest names in the music industry, no.” Julia pauses and, for a moment, Harry thinks she might’ve finally dropped the subject. However, once he doesn’t hear the sound of her fingers going back to typing on her computer he looks back at her, catching  her eyes still glued to the screen, her brows set in a frown.  He can almost hear the wheels inside her head turning. He focuses back on his phone, saying a silent prayer that whatever it is she’s thinking, she’ll just drop.. His wishes are futile, however, when she speaks up again, her words coming out slow but full of intention, “Is she friends with this dude that invited you to his wedding?”

“Julia…”

“I’m serious! Imagine if you bump into her at their wedding!” She fully turns to him, her voice pitching in excitement at the scenario.

“Even if she did get invited.” Harry starts, refusing to meet her eyes. “I doubt she’d go.”

“Why not?”

“Cause she’s one of the biggest names in the music industry? Haven’t you just said that?”

“Right.” The girl sits back on the couch, gnawing at her bottom lip before bursting again, “But what if?”

“She won’t.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

“And you’ve been reading too many romance novels.” He scoffs. “It’s starting to affect your perception of reality. It’s worrisome, really.”

“As if you didn’t watch The Notebook every day religiously before going to sleep.”

“Not everyday.”

The two friends keep pestering each other for a bit,  until the opening performance starts, signaling the beginning of the award show, and Julia had to focus back on her work . as the silence set in the room, except for Highway To Hell stretching around the walls, Harry let his mind zoom out, his flatmate’s words painting every inch of his brain.

He’d never let his mind wonder what it would be like to see you again. Would you even recognize him? No. And even if you did, , he’d probably become as much of a far-off memory like you have to him. One of those people you think about once or twice after it happened and greets the nostalgic feeling as it embraces you in a brief moment, quickly moving on to more important things. Surely, you have plenty more important things to worry  about than your ex boyfriend that you left in your hometown  four years ago.

Shaking his head, Harry scolds himself for letting his mind wander. It has been five years, for god’s sake! He’s moved on. He has! But there’s still the tiny voice, whispering annoyingly in the back of his head, like an insistent child trying to get him to listen to them, saying it over and over. What if?

//

Golden specks of sunlight peeked from the cracks of the bricked buildings outside, shining through his window as a silent reminder of the sun setting in the horizon, and you knew it was almost time for you to go home. You ignored it, though. Only snuggling back on the arm resting behind your head as you laid on the ground next to him, focusing on the feeling of his fingers playing with yours that rest on top of your stomach, and the soothing voice of Joni Mitchell singing softly in the background.

Harry was adorably excited to show you the vinyl he got from the weekend getaway with his father and stepmum, pulling you up the stairs before you could even properly greet his mother in the kitchen. You sat on his bed as he went through all the relics he managed to snatch at the local fair he had visited. Barely holding back a smile, you bit your lip as you watched him ramble about a vintage camera he got from a dutch lady. His hair had grown a bit, you’d noticed, messy curls poking out of his head, dancing slightly as he talked. Once he got to the record, you didn’t shy away from placing a peck on his cheek, right next to the dimple the deepened after your action, asking him to play it for you, as you reached for his pillow and placed it on the usual spot you’d hangout right under his window.

He was telling you about some new paint set he wanted, lying on his back looking mindlessly at the ceiling. You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of the words slipping easily out of his lips along with the sound of his breath as you moved your head closer to his chest. What made you blink your eyelids open again was when he stopped talking, a new song starting with gentle strokes of an acoustic guitar.

Looking up at him, you met his gaze already staring back at you, and you adjusted your position, turning on your side so you could take a better look. He was wearing his favorite navy blue Fleetwood Mac tee, one you’d gifted him on his sixteenth. You loved how it enhanced the color of his eyes, and you were reminded of it once again when you looked into his jade irises, almost forgetting to take a breath as you did so.

“What’s this one called?” You broke the silence, softening your voice as you were afraid to speak too loudly, almost feeling as if you were interrupting Mitchell’s declaration of love.

“A Case of You.” Harry answered, turning his body to face yours.

You didn’t say anything back, instead, you took a minute to pay attention to the lyrics that painted the four walls of his room at that moment.

I remember that time you told me / You said, “Love is touching souls.” / Surely you touched mine / Cause it pours out of me

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered, not daring to look away from him.

Harry hummed in agreement, his hand reaching up to move a strand of your hair away from your face. Smiling softly, he said, “‘S my favourite.” You watch him chew on his bottom lip, hesitating for a second before whispering, “I got something for you.”

Your smile  widens. “Really?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, looking down to where his fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. “Didn’t know if you’d like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, H.” You sit up, crossing your legs under your bum, a spark of excitement and curiosity shooting through your body as you rush him, “Go get it!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, love.” He laughs, sitting up from his position and reaching back for his backpack resting on top of the bed.

You watched as he retrieved a small pale pink box, wrapped with a silver ribbon, tied in a pretty bow on top. There was a nervous hesitance to him as he handed you the gift, you noticed a reddish tone painting his cheeks, it was subtle, you could’ve easily missed it if the light wasn’t shining on his face, still, you couldn’t help but reach forward, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. It’s quick, but you still earned a giggle that escaped his throat, mumbling afterwards, urging you to unwrap the box as he bit down his lip.

Wrapping your fingers on the ribbon that sealed the package, you swiftly untied it, allowing it to fall on the carpet next to you. A gasp eased out of your lips as soon as you opened the lid, revealing a heart-shaped gold pendant hanging on a delicate chain.

“‘S a locket.” He revealed quietly, eyes jumping from the jewelry in your hands to your face, watching your reaction. “It’s empty now, can put whatever you want in it.”

You touched the piece gently, feeling the texture of the engraved flowers under your fingertips, there’s a knot threatening to tighten your throat at the tenderness of his action but you swallow it back in order to speak, even though your words tremble out of your lips,

“I love it.”

You reach your free hand to touch the necklace being presented to you, craning your neck the slightest bit - as to not disturb Amie’s work on your brows - to get a better look at the piece. It’s a short golden chain, white crystal stones placed carefully around it. As you hold it in your palm you can tell how delicate it is, and you guess it’ll probably barely be noticeable as you strut your way down the red carpet in a couple of hours, but you assume the simple jewelry will make the whole difference in your headshots. With a final look you give a small nod to the short brunette still watching you closely, reaffirming your approval as you gently hand the necklace back to her.

She disappears from your sight in a beat and you relax back on your seat, not bothering to say anything else. It’s clear that everyone else has realized by now that you’re in a mood (if your unusual silence isn’t a big indication, you’re sure your face says it all), as they’re mostly speaking with each other and leaving you be. Acting like a stuck up egocentric diva was never in your plans to start the day of your first attendance at the Grammy Awards. It’s not like you can help it, though, but you try your hardest to make up for it. You force a smile for a bit too long, say please and thank you way too many times in a voice that makes you cringe to yourself. When they ask how you’re doing, you simply brush it off as a bad night of sleep.

Well, that isn’t entirely a lie, you are tired. The routine of staying out until dawn to catch a nap for maybe two or three hours everyday seems to have finally taken a toll on you. And of course it would all hit you like a brick in what feels like one of the most important nights of your career. Because why the fuck wouldn’t it?

Still, you know the main reason for your sour mood has got to do with much more than just a burnout due to a thread of poor sleep nights. You know the reason lies deep within the prior months that led to where you are now. But it’s not like you’re ready to unravel any of that.

So, with barely three hours of sleep under your belt, you woke up with your eyes still sticky from the previous night (due to the poor job you did on taking off your mascara before slipping under the covers) to be met with the high ceiling of the penthouse suite you booked for the week. Most times, when waking up after a night out, mind still buzzing and tongue slightly numb from the alcohol, it’s a slow rise. It starts with lazy blinks and a slow recollection of your surroundings, a lethargic way your head has to process the fact that it needs to start working again. But this morning you didn’t have that privilege of easing your way into consciousness. No. Your eyes snapped open with the sudden invasion of sunlight into your room, the chirping sound of voices coming muffled from the living room.

It’s almost noon, a voice lets you know, coming into your eyesight with a long floral dress flowing all the way down her calves, the sleeves tight on her elbows as she types something on her phone. Sonia, your manager, knows you too well as to not coarse you into waking up, but rather doing the most efficient way, that being not to give an option unless getting out of bed. She doesn’t waste a second before pulling you covers back, the action causing a whine to escape from your lips as the cool air of the AC embraces your body like a bucket of cold water.

“There’s breakfast waiting for you outside.” She gazed up at you, her eyes nudging into a motherly glare at your state.

“Coffee?” Is all you mumbled, sitting up.

“Later. Right now caffeine is not ideal for your headache.”

“I don’t—“

“There’s ibuprofen.” She motioned with her head to the nightstand right next to you, her attention back to the phone in her hand as it started to buzz. “And water. Lots of it. I’m sending in hair and makeup in ten.”

In reality, you had just about five minutes to wash away the night before you heard a commotion outside the bathroom door. There was just enough time for you to swallow back the painkiller that was settled in the nightstand as a good morning gift and to strip out of your clothes when people started knocking on the door. You ignored it, though, as your head pulsed with the continuous streak of sleepless nights and strong drinks and the cold rush of water from the waterfall shower did very little to lighten up your mood. And it doesn’t help that those five minutes were the last relaxing moment of the day before people started rushing in like a violent stream of water.

So, yes, to say you’re moody can be an understatement.

Right now you’ve been munching on an apple for the past half hour, using it as an excuse to not barge into conversations. The leather of the chair you’ve been on for what feels like forever now (which is code for about a full hour) is starting to stick to your thighs as your robe has ridden up your body. There’re what feels like hundreds of hands on you. Pulling at your hair, swiping products on your face, poking onto your nails. Their voices every minute or so smoothing in request as if you’re one of those voice controlled dolls of sorts — turn your head, stay still, close your eyes, don’t move.

This is a process you’ve always found near excessive, and probably your least favorite part of going to an event of such importance. Recalling the first time you had this many people in charge of helping you get ready, you remember the excitement. It was easy, being the center of attention without having to lift a single finger. However, it did lose its glamour rather quickly. You like your independence way too much. That ranges from being able to get ready by yourself to going alone to a cocktail party.

Though you know there’s not much you can do about it, so you just relax back, knowing the less you think about it, the quicker it’ll be over.

The moment you let your eyes fall closed, feeling the smooth brush color your eyelids, you hear it. It’s faint, and you have to focus on the low sound of the speaker in the background, under the rushed voices of what feels like too many people in the room, to really hear it. But once you do, your ears perk up as the oh so familiar voice starts to sing, and you can’t help but let your eyes snap back open at the opening verse of A Case of You. This earns a small scolding from Amie but you don’t register it, instead, you turn your head to the side to listen to it better.

“Whose playlist is this?” You ask, lips twitching upwards as the first chorus comes up.

“Think it’s Mia’s.” Someone from behind you answers it with a slight pull to your hair.

It takes you a second too long to answer her at first, the melody embracing you like a nostalgic hug, “‘S a good one.” You nod, not knowing who Mia is but still appreciating her choice.  “I love this song.”

“I remember, back in college, when my ex broke up with me as he was dropping me off from my cousin’s birthday party,” Amie starts, interrupting your moment as she holds your chin between her fingers, gently positioning you to face her and you let your eyes fall closed again. “I sat down in my dorm, put on Joni Mitchell and cried for the rest of the night.”

“Ouch, that must’ve been harsh.” You breathe out a laugh, the action worsening the throb in your head and you immediately fall sober again, recalling your own experience of crying listening to her disks.  “Good choice, though. It’s a good song to cry to.”

“Sure is.”

Amie quickly strikes another conversation with the girls in charge of your hair and you fall silent again. The song still plays softly in the background, but as much as you try to focus on it, to let the comforting words of the familiar song detach you from the position you’re in, make you forget about the suffocating feeling of having this many people so up on your personal space, you can barely hear it under their voices. A loud laugh disrupts your attempt and you have to refrain from cringing in frustration.

Suddenly, you feel yourself become too aware of the tangle of noises swiping around the place. The door to the hotel room opens and closes a couple of times. Muffled sounds of steps rushing around on the carpeted floor. Someone calls a name from the living room area. The woman in charge of your nails chats with the one doing your hair as she finishes her work (giving you at least one bit of relief). The overwhelming feeling comes back, hitting you like a brick, and you start feeling too hot under the ring light. You’re about to speak up, excuse yourself for a moment so you can walk to the balcony and feel the outdoor air untangle the knot in your chest. But before you do, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“How are we feeling here?” Sonia appears in front of you as you blink your eyes open (slowly, as to not mess up Amie’s work on your eyeshadow). She holds up a cup of coffee in your direction and you accept it gladly, holding it carefully with your freshly manicured nails.

“We’re certainly feeling.” You take a sip, wincing slightly at the hot beverage. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Nervous?”

The question makes you suddenly become too aware of the nerves tugging at your belly, like when you only feel the sting of a scratch one someone points it out. The reminder of your first time attending the ceremony as an official Grammy nominee gives your stomach a funny twist. However, it’s not your anxiousness that’s bugging you as you feel another gentle tug at your hair. But you choose not to voice your annoyance, afraid of sounding too much of a diva (something you’ve been policing yourself closely not to do for the past few months), only letting out a slight wince. “A bit.”

“It’ll be alright.” She places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not that different from other award shows, you’ll see.”

“I guess.”

“Oh!” Sonia exclaims, unlocking her phone on her other hand. “I’ve changed your flight back home like you asked.” She scrolls for a bit before stopping with a sip of her own coffee.  “You’ll be leaving on the twenty first, is that good?”

“It’s alright.” You sigh, knowing it’s not the ideal scenario you had planned, to catch an early flight the day after your birthday, but being used to the hectic agenda and the sudden change of plans.

“The driver will pick you up at five.” She gives you a look. “In the morning.”

“I know. I know.”

“That’s sorted, then.” She locks her phone again, turning her attention to Amie, who’s brushing a product gently against your cheekbone. “How much longer do you think?”

“Give me fifteen and she’s all yours.” Amie peeks up at the older woman.

“Perfect.” She smiles back at you. “You look beautiful, and you’ll do great tonight.”

“Thanks, Sunny.” You grin at the brim of your cup, addressing her by the nickname you’d given the first week she started working for you.

True to her word, Amie finishes off her work not much longer after Sonia disappears from the room after turning around the threshold leading into the living room area. And, just as you take the last sip of your coffee, while scrolling mindlessly through your phone in an attempt to keep your mind distracted, you hear a commotion coming from the other side of the walls.

It takes another minute for you to get up from the spot you’ve been sitting for what feels like hours now to go investigate. You enter the living room being greeted with a trail of croissants, and you take one, biting carefully before letting out a satisfied hum.

From this moment on, time moves relatively quickly. Soon enough, you’re standing in front of a full body mirror, feeling the poke of the last few adjustments in your gown. It’s a sequined emerald gown, one you’d find a bit too much of a safe choice upon seeing it at first, but as you see how it hugs perfectly at your curves, you’re sold.

You arrive at the red carpet with twenty minutes to spare before the show starts — not too early to be quickly forgotten by the ones that arrive after you, but also not too late to be glazed over. The Los Angeles January sky is cloudless, but despite being in the peak of wintertime the air surrounding you is warm, almost too warm, even.

The screams quickly swallow you, some coming from people on the other side of the street, waiting for a glance of whoever’s stepping out of their cars at the entrance, others are hidden behind bright flashes that you can force yourself to look at for too long. You wave, giving the same smile you’ve perfected over the years, the one that Amie says makes it look like you hold all the secrets of the world, but still friendly enough to avoid headlines about being too pretentious.

A girl, not much younger than you it seems, directs you further down the carpet. You pay little mind to her, only directing a small smile as you blindly follow her steps. Scanning your eyes through the crowd gathered before the entrance, you manage to catch familiar faces all around. Everyone’s at their most presentable, and you feel like, even if you didn’t know any of them, you would’ve easily been able to pick out the stars as they parade around the place like sore thumbs. It’s the Hollywood glow, one that can easily be spotted on their stuffed chests and their cheshire cat smiles, bodies clad in thousand dollar fabric as they spill out the big names behind it. You’re not different from any of them, you’re aware.

It takes longer than you’d expected to finally walk inside the Staples Center, following behind the same girl that greeted you when you made your entrance. Once she directs you to your seat, you hold back a relieved sigh to find Ayame standing right next to it -- you had requested to be seated next to her but considering her tendencies of skipping red carpet for the sake of arriving fashionably late (her words) you’d been scared you’d have to sit through your anxiety by yourself for a good chunk of the show.

Your brows shoot towards your hairline to the sight of her newly dyed bright orange hair, the locks gelled back, allowing her neon colored eye makeup to stand out on her face. She’s in a black latex dress, the silhouette mimicking a classical 50s gown with an off shoulder neckline. The top part of it seems to be clad so tightly to her body that you mindlessly hold your breath for a moment as you approach her.

It takes a while for her to notice you as she chats excitedly with someone you recognize as the lead singer of some pop punk band you haven’t really tried to learn the name of (but you do know is nominated with you for Best Pop Group/Duo Performance). The second her eyes meet yours, however, she’s rushing the couple steps to close the distance between you two, pulling you into a hug as she squeals your name. Her excitement is one of the first things to bring a genuine smile to your face all day, truth to be told.

“Hi, Aya.” You mutter over her shoulder, minding where you place your hands to hug her back so as to not mess with her hair.

“Hey you.” She pulls away, taking a step back to take in your appearance. You’re aware you two probably look like quite the duo together, her out of the box choice of a look certainly contrasting with your safe option (one that can look quite plain as you stand next to her, you realize.) But she doesn’t pay any mind to the antithesis, instead, only clapping her hands together as she moves her gaze down your body. “You look so beautiful! Oh my god, your dress even matches my eye!”

“That’s true.” You giggle (a real one) at her observation, taking notice of the way her thick green eyeliner curls down her cheekbone. “Guess we coordinated even without meaning to.”

“Oh god!” Her shoulders lump, eyes softening, and her lips plumping into a small pout. “Please, will you ever be able to forgive me for not coming with you?”

“Aya, it’s fine.” You reassure her.

From the moment your name started circling around different magazines as one of the favorite’s for snatching a couple nominations, Aya told you how she wanted to be with you for your first official attendance at the awards. You chatted over glasses of wine and endless bowls of oyakodon (on those rare nights that’s just the two of you in her New York apartment and she’d decide to try teaching you yet another japanese dish), making plans for today, daydreaming about getting ready together and walking down the carpet with linked arms and matching smiles. But this was before Aya signed for her Chanel campaign, and before you stopped feeling excited about mingling outside your comfort zone.  

“Nothing I’ve never done before.”

“I know but it’s your first Grammy Awards!” She sighs, her voice on the verge of a whine. “You’re the star of the night!”

There’s a sound announcement that the show is merely five minutes away from starting that cuts you as your lips part. As you two move to take your seats by the center-left of the main stage, you say, “Not sure about that one.”

You feel her gaze from the corner of your vision as you glance around the space, watching the biggest names in the industry pacing around just an arm reach away from you. After a second, you meet her concerned eyes, and when she speaks up again her voice is gentle, verging on cautious. “How are you?”

You look away from her, picking at your nails for a moment before you realize you’re ruining the fresh manicure. With a shrug, you try to dodge from the real answer she’s looking for with her question. “Good. Nervous. Tired.”

“Grumpy.” A teasing smile tugs at your friend’s lips.

“Tired.” You repeat.  “Didn’t really get any sleep, if I’m honest. Think I might actually pass out this time around.”

“Were you out last night?” She hesitates before continuing, her voice lowering an octave. “With Dora?”

“We just went to a cocktail party, nothing too crazy.”

A photographer stops by, interrupting you to take a picture of the two of you next to each other. As soon as he’s gone you look back at Aya, she’s the one not meeting your eye this time.“I don’t like her.”

You sigh. “I know.”

“I don’t.” She shifts in her seat, looking down at her lap before gazing up at you. “I just don’t think she has your best interests in mind.”

“And I don’t think this is the best place for us to discuss this. Again.”

“You’re right.” Aya nods, more to herself than to you. “Tonight is about you. Screw Dora and screw--”

The music playing around the arena pauses, and you both know this means the ad break is over. Cameras start moving around you and that’s enough for Aya to drop the subject and relax back on her seat. With the lights dimmed and the attention set on stage, it’s much easier for you to let your frown deepen for a moment as you take in the words she was about to say.

It takes just a minute for you to go back to your alert state, however, as a camera dances its way in front of you. A silent reminder of the eyes watching you all around.

The greater half of the show drags by and you find yourself zooming out more times than you wish. You know that Aya notices, giving you the same concerned look when you take a beat too long to clap for someone’s speech, or when you keep repeating the same robotic movements during someone’s performance. Award shows are known for crawling their way to the end, but most times than not, you can easily carry yourself through it with not much yawning. But right now that’s shown to be a harder task than you thought, and you find yourself urging for something to keep you at ease (it’s why you like the Brits so much, at least there you could down a glass of tequila and let its warmth drown the nerves in your belly.)

What bugs you even more is the fact that this was supposed to be the best night of your life. The weight of its importance should be translated into flaps of butterflies in your stomach not a tangle of thoughts clouding your brain. And the pressure you put on yourself to force some enjoyment out of you only helps make it harder for you to fight a crease to form between your brows.

The first time you let go of living inside your head is when the sound announcement for your first category echoes around the arena during -- yet another -- commercial break. You’re talking with Dua Lipa, exchanging the formality of compliments on each other's work (in your weak attempt at networking when you don’t feel like talking), when you hear it. There’s an electric spark that shoots down your spine, and you’re sure it's evident in your face as she comments on your nomination, earning a nervous laugh in return. It jolts you like a flip of a switch, and you have to hold back from bouncing on your feet at the prospect of finally allowing yourself to enjoy the night. Your night, you correct yourself, hopeful.

Around you, cameras come alive again as you reach your seat. It’s like your whole body feels numb, every cell electrified with anticipation in a way that the only thing you can focus on is the speed of your heartbeat. The rush of your bloodstream spreads warmth from the apple of your cheeks to the tip of your toes. You realize Aya’s hand is in yours when she squeezes it tightly, forcing you to share a quick glance at her to find an expectant smile adorning her face.

It’s only when they call the nominees for Best New Artist that you realize you never really thought you had a chance of snatching it. Maybe in a way you tried to keep your expectations low, knowing the set of talents that share the category nominations with you. So you wait for them to call someone else’s name. You prepare to put on your best smile, to clap politely for the winner. But that’s not what happens.

Because they call out your name.

Aya hugs you so tightly it brings tears to your eyes, your mind suddenly snapping back into reality and you realize that yes, this is really happening. You’re sure you float all the way upstage, you mind blank and your hands shaky as you accept the statuette. In a few days, people are gonna ask you about this moment, how it was looking back at the arena with your new Grammy in hands to give your acceptance speech, and you’re just gonna laugh it off charmingly about how you had it at the tip of your tongue. In reality, the moment you gaze back at the ocean of people, all in their black tuxedos and extravagant gowns, the only thing you focus is to fight back the knot in your throat, keeping your voice surprisingly steady as you barely register a single word that leaves your mouth.

Still shaking, you walk backstage, accepting congratulatory words and receiving a couple hugs along the way. You talk to reporters and take pictures, words coming a bit throaty as you allow yourself to feel a bit teary. The award feels heavy in your hand, the golden record player glimmering back at you, the shot of adrenaline waving off as you stare at the blank spot waiting to be engraved with your name.

Once you’re back on your seat, the buzz in your body starts to wear off. You feel your phone going off in your clutch and, when the familiar signal for the commercial break goes off, you reach for it. The screen lights up immediately, showing a thread of messages coming up at the second. You unlock it, feeling the urge to call someone as you let your thumb glaze over it before tapping the phone app. It opens up, showing a couple of missed calls from when you were backstage that you make a mental reminder to check back on it later. You look at the screen expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen when it hits you. You have no one to call.

Looking up, you try desperately to catch some friendly eyes, but you come back empty handed. Aya has gone backstage to get ready for her performance, and Sunny, along with other people from your team, have taken this time to celebrate, mingling around the place.

The messages are still lighting up on your screen as you blink back the tears that now threaten to fall down your cheeks, your chest heaving when the knot gets tighter. It’s a bit ironic, you think, the amount of people reaching out to you and yet you’ve never felt this alone. This was all you wanted, right here in your hands. All you focused on. Your life has never been better. Climb all the way to the mountaintop, isn’t that what they say? Then why does it feel so lonely?

There’s all these people, smiling at you, offering their kind words. Celebrating your achievement. But none of them feel like someone you can rely on, and you can’t help but wonder:

Shouldn't you have someone that you could call?

//

Harry’s not having a good day.

He’s not having a good week, actually.  Just as he’s stuck on a hectic routine in the middle of arranging costumes for the next musical (they’re doing Beauty and the Beast which requires a lot of layering that, as pretty as he finds the final result, can be a pain to sew) he managed to come down with a cold. So, whereas he wanted nothing more than to take a couple days off to snuggle under his newly acquired electric blankets while binging the new season of How To Get Away With Murder, the dress rehersal dates are just around the corner, so he just had to ignore his runny nose and throbbing head in order to rush into the final tailoring of the costumes. And if being sick wasn’t enough to throw him off a curve, he’s been having an special difficult time with Lumière’s full-skirted coat, his hazed mind causing him to misplace the golden laser cut detailing twice, as well as poke himself with the needle enough times to leave the skin of his finger red and sore. All of this also warranted him three scoldings from Lisa, who’s the head costume designer and whom Harry had prided himself on never getting on her bad side, so to say he’s been grouchy all week is an understatement.

On top of it all, like the bright red cherry on top of the shit cake that was his week, he’s late. He’s late to a wedding he’d all but forgotten about, and if it wasn’t for the annoyingly loud alarm reminder he’d set on his phone (that rang conventionally just a minute after he finally got to lay back on his bed after getting home from work -- he doesn’t usually work on saturdays but Lisa messaged him about an emergency with Belle’s dress, so he’d spent the entire morning hopping around fabric stores) he’d have probably slept right through it.  Harry thought about rain checking it, literally, as he hit the snooze button just as gentle raindrops started tapping against his window. He actually considered it. But as soon as he let his eyes fall closed the guilt started settling in. He had confirmed his presence directly with the groom when he called to send his congratulations after receiving the invitation. He gave him his word, and he’ll stick by it.

But it still doesn’t help the fact that he’s late. Which is why he’s rushing up the escalator on the tube station. The rain hasn’t gotten any better from the moment he’d jumped out of bed, still showering from the sky much like a last goodbye from winter as it blends into spring. This time he took Julia on her offer, grabbing her umbrella before leaving home -- and making sure to avert his eyes from the tacky imprints on the fabric to keep himself from cringing, as the only reason for him to be taking it in the first place is to keep his hair and his clothes as intact as possible (at times like this is when he’s the most thankful for the degree chose, because he’s not quite sure how else he’d be able to get his hand on a suit at the last minute if he hadn’t had one he’d tailored himself on his first year.)

He gets a few looks as he stumbles on the last step, a line of apologies rushing out of his lips while he struggles to open the umbrella. When it finally flings open with a thud, the gush of wind prepares to take it away but is prevented from doing so as Harry tightens his grip on the handle, he checks his phone again for the time. The screen lights up with the indication that he’s got five minutes for the ceremony and Harry mutters a cuss as he remembers the venue is a ten minute walk from the station, so he picks up his pace, the sound of the heels of his boots against the cobblestone blending with the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

He knows he’s arrived as soon as he turns around the corner. The 18th-century building takes over most of the block, its stoned walls take a camel tone contrasting with the black of the iron railing that hugs its front--only giving space to two dark oak wooden columns located on each side of the front entrance. There’s a small group stepping out of a black taxi, a suited-clad man helps a woman out of the vehicle as she holds onto the skirt of her navy blue gown to prevent it from dragging it into the damp concrete sidewalk. They’ve clearly just arrived for the ceremony that’s set to happen in just a couple minutes now, and Harry can’t help but let out a relieved sigh as he realises he’s just about made it in time.

Letting his pace slow down to a jog, his shoulders relax as he tries to even out his breathing as he approaches the group in an attempt to not give away the fact that he was properly running for the past five blocks. But just as he does so, as a stronger gust of wind whips against his face. Harry barely has time to process it as the umbrella in his hand inverts its shape, the wires holding the fabric together snapping broken. It’s so sudden that it takes him backwards a couple steps, a high pitched yelp falling from his lips as the raindrops start to hit his face like needles, quickly sinking through the fabric of his suit.

“Fucking--”

His struggle catches the attention of the group standing outside the building, and he can feel their heads turning in his direction from the corner of his vision. There're a few repressed laughs that still make their way to his ears, and one of the men speaks up, his eyes lit in amusement, “Alright, mate?”

Harry glances down at the broken umbrella in his hand, his other arm coming up in a weak attempt to shield him from the drops now sliding down his cheeks. He looks up, clicking his tongue. “I’m good.”

There’s a shame in his walk as he makes his way to a trash can right next to the group, giving them a small nod before throwing the now-useless tool inside of it. He tries not to think about how perfect it would be for the earth to swallow him whole as he jogs again the few steps towards the entrance of the house.

At least now he’ll never have to look again at that tasteless thing every time he enters his flat, he tries to reason.

Thankfully, the weather consists mostly of sporadic gusts of wind, rather than a proper rainstorm. So, by the time he reaches the covered white-painted entrance, the thin droplets of water were only good for dampening his hair and shoulders (and tangling a few knots into his strands that he feels once he runs his hand through it), but not powerful enough to soak through his clothes.

“Good afternoon, sir.” A lady greets him as he steps inside the venue, she holds a cream clipboard on the crook of her arm, hugging it against her body. Her freshly dyed red locks contrast with the beige tone of the ambient, matching with her earth-brown dress. A smile stretches in her face, accentuating her age lines, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, brows shooting up in surprise as if she didn’t expect him to walk in.

“Afternoon.” Harry reaches his hand to push back his hair, nose scrunching as he feels a few droplets slide down his neck. The lady looks up at him expectantly, her eyes moving down not so subtly, smile tightening as she takes in his appearance. He clears his throat, speaking up when she doesn’t offer any response, “Uhm… I’m here for Michael and Elise… For their wedding, I mean.”

“Right!” She nods, and Harry notices the way her eyes glance down at his blazer one more time before she focuses on the clipboard, moving it so it stands on her eyesight. She opens her mouth but before any word can leave her lips her hand reaches up to press her finger against the ear device, brows furrowing in concentration as she listens in. He stands there awkwardly for a moment,waiting for her instructions as she nods along to whatever’s being said. “I just have one more guest coming in.” She mumbles into the device, shooting a quick glance to down the hallway, before she focuses back on him, her voice coming a bit rushed. “May I have your name, please?”

“Uh, course, yeah. Styles.”

She gazes down at the list in her hand, flipping the pages as her eyes scan through the names. “Harry Styles?” He offers a hum in agreement as he watches her check his name. She looks back up, motioning towards the end of the long hallway, where there are double glass doors, only one of them open, leading to what seems like an outdoor area. “You can just head  straight ahead to the courtyard for the ceremony. The reception afterwards will be upstairs.”

“Alright, thanks.” He has half a mind to ask her for the men’s room so he can at least fix his undoubtedly rumpled appearance but, before he even thinks of doing so, she already has her back to him, taking long strides towards a closed door located to the side and disappearing inside of it. He huffs out a breath, eyes widening slightly as he mumbles to himself. “Okay, then.”

Harry walks through a threshold leading to a second part of the hallway, this one with a darker cast to it, thanks to the walnut tone of the wooden walls, passing by a number of ash grey armchairs set neatly on each side of the corridor -- looking so sleek that Harry wonders if anyone has ever used them for anything other than a decoration piece. The low mesh of voices invades the indoor space, getting just slightly louder once he enters the courtyard area.

The glass door he enters from leads to the right side of the seating plan, all the white wooden chairs with their backs turned to him (thankfully, as he doesn’t really feel like making a grand entrance to announce how late he is). He notices another set of double glass doors to his left that are set right at the center, a tan colored carpet stretching from it all the way to the altar, and, opposite to where he stands, a white piano is being played, the soft melody serving as background noise. The last few rolls of seats near him are mostly empty, apart from a few people that chose the ones closest to the aisle, so Harry manages to sneak his way to a chair by the far end without catching anyone’s attention.

Once he’s finally able to relax back into the -- not so comfortable -- seat, there’s a relieved sigh that escapes his lips unintentionaly, and he finally allows himself to take a better look at his surroundings. The first thing that he notices as he stretches his neck (in an attempt to relieve some tension he’s been holding throughout the entire day) is a glass roof serving as a shield from the raindrops that still fall stubbornly from the sky. It’s definitely a semi-new addition to the construction, Harry reckons, as it gives a modern touch to the historical building. It’s almost transfixing the way the metal structure bends in the shape of a simple mandala, one that’s now being colored with easing streaks of water running down its dome-esque build.

From where he chose to sit there’s not much of the rest room he can really make out, most of his vision being obstructed by a wall of heads. What he is able to catch sight of is the waterfall fountain standing tall right behind the altar, the blanket of water falling along the stoned wall is so clear that one could easily miss it if it wasn’t for the lights located right above of it, bright and shimmering in contrast to the dim lighting of the rest of the room. The sound of it is soothing, like an indoor drizzle, and it blends so perfectly with the melody of the piano that Harry wonders if the man playing it is even aware of himself doing it. Right next to it, at the opposite far end of the space, is large light up letters spelling the word LOVE in a yellowed light. It’s something that he’s certain he could easily find corny if he didn’t consider himself a hopeless romantic of sorts.

Which also can justify why he’s not able to keep his eyes dry throughout most of the ceremony.

It starts just about a minute after he’s settled on his seat, barely having time to sit back before he finds himself standing up again with the rest of the crowd. And, from the moment Harry caught sight of the groom's face as the bride finally made her entrance, he’s a goner. He remembers as a young boy, being forced by his mum to attend a handful of weddings during his childhood, how boring he used to find them. Funny how time changes things, he feels like, as now he finds himself paying close attention to the whole thing, not being able to help the warmth that grows in his chest all the way to the tip of his nose as he feels his eyes getting glossier at every word being spoken. By the time the vows come up, the intimate declamations of love being spoken in teary voices and shaky hands, he gives up on trying to brush away the tears that tickle their way down his cheeks.

Once the newlywed couple strut their way back the aisle, rings now hugging their fingers and paired smiles stretching their cheeks, Harry’s managed to control his emotions to some degree. When they pass through him, just before disappearing inside the building hand in hand, the groom, Michael, meets his gaze, throwing his hand up in a wave-like gesture. Harry wonders for a second if he’d recognized his face amongst the certain euphoric feeling he’s in right now, or if it was just a blind gesture that he barely registered before disappearing inside the double doors. Regardless, he still brings his finger to his mouth to let out a sharp whistle in felicitation.

The second they’re out the door, everyone starts moving, and that’s when Harry realizes his seat also allows him to be the first out the door. Following the crowd that makes their way back into the building, it comes to him that he never really got the chance to find a toilet so he could check the damage left by the rain-- and he’s sure his emotional state throughout the last hour or so did very little to help him in that department.

So he keeps an eye out as he steps inside the same hallway he came from, this time being directed to an open door by the left that leads him to a staircase. His boots click against the marble steps as Harry climbs up along with the rest of the guests that make their way towards the reception, a light chatter taking over the building as the talk amongst themselves. All the doors along the way are closed, all except the one at the very front of the stairs as he reaches the third floor.

Harry looks around as he waits for the elderly couple in front of him to finish talking with the lady that’s standing in front of the open doors. All the rest of the floor is shut tight, and none of the double white painted doors really seem like they would lead to a bathroom. Soon enough, though, he’s being greeted by the receptionist of sorts.

Like the one when he first walked into the building, she also holds a clipboard close to her arm, and, with her hair being pulled up in a tight ponytail, he catches sight of a matching earpiece poking at the side of her face. He gives her his names and, once she starts directing him to his designated seat, he finds himself scanning the room for what he’s been looking for. He’s not planning on staying long enough to need to know which table he’s in, anyway, only wanting to express his felicitations to the couple before rushing back to his warm covers that call for his name.

“I’m sorry, which way is the toilet?” He interrupts the lady, who only raises her brows for a moment before shooting him a polite smile, gesturing to a set of doors not too far from where he stands. “Thank you.”

Upon entering further inside he notices, the space is much smaller than the courtyard. The room takes an ‘L’ shape, the turn of the place being a small platform to which he assumes must be the dance floor, considering the few musicians tucked in the far corner. Thanks to its shape the place is as narrow as it is long, not giving him much space to walk between the perfectly set tables. Harry doesn’t dwell on it too much, though, only rushing towards where he was directed, and quickly locking himself inside where it's indicated to be the men’s room.

Turning to the circular mirror to his side, Harry takes in his appearance with a sharp inhale. It’s not too bad, he thinks, more or less what he was expecting to find. His tearful state earlier has definitely enhanced the puffiness in his eyes that are still slightly glossy. There’s a reddish tone to his cheeks and at the tip of his nose, light circles under his eyes displaying his poor sleep schedule. He looks like someone who’s still recovering from a cold, if he’s honest. Which was to be expected. His hair, however, took most of the damage of the rain. What once were his neatly locks curling around his jawline, now sits a frizzy nest of strands tangled on each other.

It’s still damp when he runs his fingers through it, trying to undo the knots he finds on the way but, somehow he only makes it worse. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at his reflection as he lets out a chuckle, thinking of a Friends reference.

He sighs in frustration at the stubborn mop of his hair refusing to stay in place, surrendering to its rebellion as he fetches the hair tie wrapped around his wrist. Maybe he should’ve just listened to his mum’s wishes and just cut it all out when he had the chance, it surely would’ve saved him the embarrassment of walking around a wedding reception with a fucking man bun. But Harry is as stubborn as he is proud, sticking to his statement of allowing his curls to run wild down his neck. So he might just have to suck it up to his knock off hipster image for the night, at least he’ll probably won’t see these people again until the next baby shower, he figures.

What Harry doesn’t expect as he walks out the foamy white restroom after his inner head monologue was to be met with the one person he was not expecting to encounter in a million years. Standing just a few steps away from him, hair neatly wrapped on top of your head, body clad in a pearly green cocktail dress, the top crossing tightly around your chest and its skirt drapes beautifully down your body. It’s Dior, Harry recognizes, and on any other occasion he would’ve been too transfixed on the piece to even notice the person sporting it. But not right now, no, there’s not a chance that the hiccup on his heartbeat and the sweat on his palms are due to the article of clothing.

He freezes on his spot, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment, hoping that when he opens up it’s all just a fragment of his -- very vivid -- imagination. Perhaps he’s falling ill again, and his fever is acting up, creating mirages to trick his mind. But as he opens his eyes that possibility seems to dissolve as quickly as it was created, and Harry’s convinced that this must be some twisted sick joke the universe is pulling on him. Not satisfied on making him walk in the rain after breaking his friend’s tacky umbrella, or having him attend a wedding reception with a fucking manbun of all things as well as a face that’s most likely resembling a dried apple. No, that didn’t seem to be enough of a punishment for him. Because on top of it all, here you are, standing just a few steps away from him, this time not through a screen of a printed paper but in flesh and bone.

It takes him a second to realize he’s been frozen on his spot for quite a while now, and as panic starts to zip through every cell of his body his gaze flickers around the room. He’s not sure what he’s looking for exactly, just trying to find a way out. But how, when he’s not even sure where he’s supposed to sit? His eyes find the lady that greeted him at the entrance and he cusses himself for not paying attention to her instructions during his rush, because now she’s standing on the other side of the room speaking with the musicians and there’s no way he can reach her without bumping into you first.

Why does this place have to be so fucking small?

His foot stops midstep, almost too afraid to move and catch your attention. Frowning to himself, Harry  He dares to look in your direction again. You’re turned towards him, but thankfully you’re too caught up in your conversation with a blonde lady, nodding along to whatever it is that she’s saying, that you don’t catch the way he lets his eyes linger in you for a beat too long.

Long enough that you undoubtedly feel the weight of his eyes on you as your gaze meets his, and Harry’s sure he could dig a hole for himself right through this perfectly waxed lightwood floor. But he can’t because you’re looking at him. You’re looking at him and your eyes widen just slightly with recognition, mouth agape as your lips form the shape of his name, your voice standing out amongst the mixture of others chatting around the room.

The girl talking to you turns around as she realizes your focus has gone elsewhere. Melanie. He remembers her from his chem class -- she dropped a whole beaker of hydrogen peroxide on her arm and had a skin burn, her round face is still the same but now she’s a blonde. He barely pays any attention to her, however, letting his eyes bounce back to yours just as quickly as they left, only to find you’re already making your way towards him.

“Harry?” You say again, this time he hears it loud and clear as you get closer, the sound of your voice saying his name again causing an electric spark to shoot down his spine. You stop just before him, as if you’re also unsure on how to properly greet him.

His lips part, taking a sharp breath as he tries to learn how to speak all over again, “H-hi.”

“Hi.” Your smile grows. “I didn’t know you’d be here, didn’t see you at the ceremony.”

“Yeah I-- I got rained on.” He lets out a nervous laugh, hand coming up instinctively to run through his hair but he stops it midair as he realizes his locks are tied back. Clearing his throat he speaks up in an attempt to cover the awkward gesture, “I mean, didn’t know you’d be here as well, you know? Figured you’d be busy and stuff.” He wants to punch himself.

“I made it just fine.” You throw him a playful wink, shooting a look over your shoulder to where Melanie now stands talking to someone else, her eyes still stealing a few curious glances in your direction. “Where are you seated? Figure it can’t be that far from where they seated me.”

“Uhm… To be honest, I’m not quite sure.” His eyes scan the room for a second before meeting yours again. “Was in a bit of a rush when I walked in, actually.”

You laugh, “Well that’s perfect, then, you can just sit with us!” You motion back to the table where you came from. “I’m sure you remember everyone from back in the day.”

“Sounds nice, yeah.” He looks back to where you’re pointing, trying to spot any other familiar face.

“Great! C’mon I’ll get you some champagne.” You catch him by surprise as you lock your arm around his, leading the short way towards the table.

True to your word, you hand him a flute of champagne just a beat after directing him to a seat that seems to be right next to yours. He doesn’t miss the way you’re able to do so with a simple smile shot towards one of the caterers, making him find his way to you in barely a second, handing you another flute without even questioning the fact that you already have one in your hand. Harry doesn’t really blame him, a smile from you would be enough to have him rushing to you, too.

As he figured, you take the seat right next to his, raising your glass briefly in a cheers with him before both of you relax back into your seats. The table is entirely decorated in different shades of white and gold, as well as the rest of the space. Honey orange plates are set in front of each of the seven seats, their tone matching perfectly the color of the fancy patterned curtains around the room that block the outside view. A full bouquet of flowers is set at the center, pale pink roses contrasting with bright red dahlias as they bloom proudly amongst the green leaves. Two other empty glasses are set in front of him, they shimmer under the light coming from two high-hanged chandeliers that illuminate the room, and Harry wonders what they could be for, as their shapes differ only so slightly from each other.

His thoughts are cut shortly as the empty seats quickly begin to fill, and he notices how your attention has gone back to Melanie who now takes the chair on your other side. She seems to have taken a liking to having your attention on herself, Harry notes. Soon enough, though, his own focus is called elsewhere, once he’s greeted by the other people that have taken the rest of the seats. You were right when you told him he’d recognize most of them, and Harry’s thankful that it mostly consists of people he actually used to be relatively close to back on his school days (not close enough to have survived the graduation mark, but still, most of them he still follows on a couple social media platforms, getting sporadic updates on their lives).

Jamie is the first of them to arrive, who takes the chair right next to Harry’s, startling him with a strong grip on his shoulder. “Styles?” His voice chirps in the air, and as recognition comes to him, Harry gets up, greeting him as he’s pulled in a side hug. “Almost didn’t recognize you, mate, are you wearing heels?” The man jokes at the clear height difference between them, earning a polite laugh from Harry.

“Kind of, actually.” He looks down at his foot as he bends his ankle, showing off the black leather boot that has a bit of a heel to it.

“Oh, there he is! Always the stylish one, it’s in the name, innit?” Harry huffs out a chuckle. “With the hair too, right? Heard those buns work wonders with the ladies.” The shorter man motions to Harry’s hair, giving him a playful shove as he laughs, looking back to catch the gaze of a woman that’s standing behind him. She gives Jamie a tight smile and a raise of brows, her eyes flickering from him to Harry. His laugh hauters, arm reaching back to grasp her waist,  “Yeah, yeah, H, this is my wife, Faye.”

At the mention of his spouse, Harry’s brows shoot toward his hairline for a second, lips parting before quickly recovering his shocked expression as he leans to greet her. It’s not that he’s surprised that Jamie has gotten himself a wife, somehow (well, a bit of that too) but it always comes like a bit of a jolt to find people his age settling with their life partner. Part of the shock comes mostly to Harry as he thinks back to himself, and he can’t help the comparison that comes as he’s never found himself nearly close to having someone so dearly close to his heart that he can think of such commitment.Well, he had you. But people always talk about how puppy love is usually supposed to be like that anyway. That first love, in which you’re still taking baby steps with the new found feeling of sharing your heart with someone else. The one when you’re too young to really know anything.

Harry still cherishes that feeling, which can also explain the effect you hold on him. But there’s something in him that wonders if he’ll ever have what he saw on Michael’s eyes when they locked gazes at the end of the ceremony. The bliss that comes with the knowledge that you don’t have to take those baby steps anymore. You don’t have to hold on to them in fear of what path they’ll take. If they’ll decide that where they need to go is no longer next to yours. He wonders what it feels like to learn that love doesn’t come with dread, and watching people around him find that so easily, it comes to him that maybe he’s the one doing something wrong.

It doesn’t really help that, after Jamie and Faye have settled in their seats, all the others that follow after come with similar introductions. Harry never expected coming here that he’d hear the words “fiancée” and “wife” being thrown around so often, and, quickly, he comes to the realization that he is the only one without a date.

As much as those thoughts keep bothering him, they become dulled as time starts going by and he nurses his second flute of champagne. The conversations that make their way to the table mostly consist of the recollection of times when each other’s faces felt like more than just a “used to be”. They make rounds with digging up old inside jokes, and Harry finds himself stealing glances in your direction more often than he’d like. He tries not to, of course, but you seem to be the only place his eyes want to travel to. With your voice so close to him, more than he ever thought it would be again, it’s like someone’s lighting a candle at the deep of his chest (those nice vanilla ones you used to have in your room, giving the whole place a scent that still sticks to him as yours to this day). It’s nearly scary to him, how easily he falls again to the sound of your laugh.

His nose scrunches in a laugh at a joke Chris blurts out from the other side of the table about their old math teacher the moment there’s a tap in the microphone that echoes through the walls of the small space. A woman stands in the far side of the room, standing on a small platform that was settled for the musicians. She’s the same one that greeted him at the entrance, her hair now pulled up in a tight bun exposing a thin layer of sweat on her forehead that shimmers under the lighting directly above her.

“Good evening, everyone.” Her voice chirps a bit too loud and she throws a look over her shoulder to a man standing next to a speaker, before testing a word again to see it come out now in a more composed tone.

She proceeds to go into a short speech that Harry, in all honesty, zooms out for a great part of it. His body has twisted on his seat to have a better look at the center of the room where she speaks into the mic, but as a result of that, he’s now facing you. From this angle, he has a better look at the side of your face, as you find yourself turned in your seat in order to look at the woman as well. Your makeup is light and most of it falls into a natural tone, and Harry wonders if you’ve made any effort at all into looking this beautiful.

The familiarity of your features tugs at his heartstrings, you’ve grown into them over the years, the lines in your face having matured with time. Still, he can pinpoint reminders of when he last got to gaze at you this closely. A scar just below your eyebrow, now faded, but still very much present, from when your sister scratched you with a branch at the first barbecue he attended at your family’s home. A few beauty marks painting your skin, that he used to press his lips or trace his finger over as if connecting them. Even the tiny golden ball poking through your second ear hole that he held your hand through when you got it pierced, afraid it would hurt too bad. Those details he thought he’d all but forgotten about, now staring right back at him.

Once again, it’s like he’s lost track of how long he’s been looking at you, and surely you can feel him watching, as you turn your head to meet his gaze. Harry blinks a few times, lips parting as he realizes he just got caught staring. There’s barely enough time for him to try and avert his eyes to pretend nothing ever happened, however, as your lips twitch in a gentle smile. The action causes a matching one to poke on his face almost immediately, a reaction Harry himself barely has time to register, a warmth deepening along with his dimples on his cheeks. You let out a slight laugh, bringing the brim of your glass up to your lips before gazing back over your shoulder at the lady that now seems to be wrapping up her speech.

“And with that being said, it’s now an honor to introduce for the first time, mister and missus Michael and Elise Browne!” She gestures to the entrance at the couple that appears through the doors, smiles still stretching their faces as they make their way to the far end of the room where there’s a space reserved for the dance floor.

With everyone’s attention being called towards the two newlyweds, Harry lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Biting into his lip he claps along with the rest of the guests, trying to relax his shoulders to ease the nerves that still tickle deep in his stomach.

Quickly, though, the atmosphere of the place turns into more of a cheerful one.

After the couple’s first dance (which, this time, Harry has to blink away the tears that threaten to spill, knowing he’s much  more exposed to someone’s wandering eyes here) there’s a round of short speeches, mostly thanking everyone’s presence, before they start to serve dinner.

During most of the course, however, it’s like you’ve become the main attraction of the table. And it’s not that Harry’s surprised by it, even before you’ve gotten this big in your career, you’ve always held this magnetic aura within you. Something about you draws people’s attention, and you’re good at holding it to you. It’s not something you do consciously, he knows, but as soon as you’re in a room no one else holds a chance at stealing the spotlight.

It’s always been like this, even all those years ago. But now it’s like it’s intensified by tenfold. Harry doesn’t know how you manage to split your attention into so many conversations, and still remain your charming demeanour after hearing the same celebrity joke for the third time in a row. You don’t seem bothered by the amount of questions thrown your way (and he’s sure this is probably the most amount of times he’s heard Beyonce being mentioned in a conversation), in fact, he’s sure you’ve grown more than used to it by now.

Harry, on the other hand, is the one that grows slightly annoyed with time passing. Oddly enough, from the moment he sat next to you, something in him urged to be alone with you. He wants to be the one to hold your attention, your full attention. He wants to talk to you, to really have an actual conversation with you-- none of those ‘what does Adele smells like’ type of questions.

It took him seeing you again to make him realize, he’s missed you.

The chance presents itself, though, just as the empty plates for the main dish get collected by the caterers. Chris mentions something about one of Jamie’s school flings, causing a tension as his wife -Faye- storms out of the table with the man following close behind after shooting a dirty look towards his old friend. Melanie, who had been the main one to be on your shoulder throughout the night, excuses herself to the toilet right after. And, as soon as she’s out of her seat, Harry sees you let out a sigh, reaching for your wine glass before you turn to him for the first time in the night.

“I love your suit, by the way!” You exclaim, eyes moving down his jacket briefly. “Never seen anything like it.”

Harry clears his throat, feeling a heat raise at the back of his neck now that your focus is entirely on him. The suit in question, the same one that got an odd look from the lady at the front door, is actually one he’d firstly tailored on his first year of uni. It’s mostly made with a royal blue fabric, except the lapels that take the same material, but in a deep blood tone (initially, his first plan was to make the entire suit in this tone, but as he realized he barely had enough fabric of the same shade to finish the jacket, he settled on using it only as a detail on the lapels and at the bend of his elbows and knees). His favorite part of it, though, was actually added semi recently. Lisa had ordered some flower detailing to sew to Belle’s dress, but the girl in charge of it embroidered them a shade too dark and, before she got the chance to throw the work away, Harry asked to have them. Now, they’re bound to the lapels of his jacket, twin garden roses on each side, their blooming petals matching beautifully with the darker tone of the fabric. From the moment he added them on, he was in love with it, and now he’s even more glad he did so, because it also caught your attention.

“Thanks, I-” He looks down at his attire, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times before, scratching his nose with the side of his finger as his voice comes out lower than he intended, a shy smile taking over his face. “I designed it myself, actually.”

“Oh my god!” You gasp as the realization hits you. “Really? Wait how-- I mean, I didn’t-- Well, it looks incredible!”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you…” You trail off, motioning vaguely down at his attire.

“Uhm, yeah.” He breathes out a laugh, rubbing his nose with the side of his finger in a nervous tick. “I dropped out of art school, actually, to get into fashion.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, blinking back at him a couple times, lips parting. “How did I not know that?” You ask in a mumble, seemingly more to yourself than to him.

“It was just uhm…” Harry looks down at his lap, not knowing how to finish the sentence without making it awkward. “It was right after we…”

“Oh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah…”

“You must be almost done, right?” You change the subject as you bring the brim of your glass up to your lips, barely taking a sip before adding, “With your degree, I mean.”

Harry nods. “Got a year left, yeah.”

You take a full sip of your wine, setting it back to its place on the table before leaning to rest your elbow on top of it so it can support your cheek as you lean forward, turning your body so to show how he has your full attention. “And how’s that going? Do you have any idea of the path you want to take? I know fashion has so many possibilities, it must be exciting.”

“It is.” He nods just as a certerer comes to settle the deserts in front of each of you. After muttering a quick ‘thank you’, he continues, “I had some internships last year, actually. Worked with a couple designers in London, it was pretty cool.”

“That’s sick.” Your eyes still haven’t left him. “Any names I might recognize?”

He uses his fork to play around with a strawberry, focusing on the way it falls from the small piece of tart painted with white ganache, using it as a silent excuse to himself as to not meet your eyes. Truth to be told, it’s a rather strange feeling to him, having someone’s full attention like this, being asked about his life with a genuine curiosity behind your words. Harry’s used to being backstage, is what most of his career choice consists of, anyway. He stays behind the stage lights, doing the work no one cares for when they see the final product; even when working on runway pieces, people weren’t thinking of whoever did the stitching of the tule or the embroidery over the bustier. But the way you’re watching him, eyes glimmering under the warm lights, it’s the closest he’s felt to being thrown under the spotlight.

Which could explain why he feels this nervous.

“Maybe, yeah, I was with Christopher Kane for a semester.” He lowers his voice without meaning to, a rush of shyness tinting his face. “Also worked on a campaign with Molly Goddard.”

“Holy shit, Harry, that’s, like, huge!” You gasp, hand coming to hold onto his shoulder, pushing him back gently as to bring his eyes to meet yours. It’s sweet, really, how you most likely have accomplishments much bigger than he could ever dream of achieving, still, your smile grows as if it’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever heard. It brings a small giggle to escape from his lips. Letting your hand fall from his shoulder, you relax back into your seat. “One of my favorite dresses is Christopher Kane, he works with his sister, right?”

“They’re both creative directors, yeah.”

“I love their work.” You say, a smile still present and he hopes it never fades. “Are you doing any other intership right now?

“Yeah…” He starts. “I’m working right now, actually, doing some costume design for theatre.”

“Really? Now that’s an interesting path.” You point, fingers fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth. “Where are you working?”

“Uhm…” He knew this question was coming, still, he’s not sure how to present you with the information. His voice lowers, eyes falling to his lap before he looks up at you through his lashes. “Act One.”

He hears your hand fall to your lap, eyes widening just barely before you let out a chuckle, “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Act One?” Your lips part in disbelief.  “With my mum?”

The thing is, Harry was only aware about Act One opening a London unit when he saw the job advertisement stuck to the wall of his university’s building about five months ago. He recognized the name, of course, knowing your mother worked as the music director while you two were together, and also knowing you had been part of a fair amount of productions before your career started growing as it is now (having even attended a handful of them himself, back in the day). What he didn’t know was that your family moved to London with the company and that your mother was still part of the crew when he joined for the spring production. So, the news came with a surprise to him as much as it is to you.

He thought maybe she would have mentioned it to you-- and maybe she has and you just brushed past the information, not caring much for it. But the way your face is still hung in shock, blinking at him as you try to process what he just told you, he figures that’s not the case.

“The same one, yeah.”

“I can’t believe it!” You reach for your glass, twirling it in your hand to watch the dark liquid swirl inside, still shaking your head slightly. “She never- She never…”

“To be fair, I don’t see her that often.” He tries to reason, and it’s true, they work in two different spaces. “I’m usually at the atelier.”

“Still, that’s…”

“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment, please?” Someone cuts you off before you can even process how to finish the sentence you started. Everyone’s attention is called back to the makeshift stage, to a woman with the mic in her hand-- she’s in one of the bridesmaid’s navy blue gown, holding up a flute of champagne on her free hand. Once all eyes are on her, she continues. “For those who don’t know me, my name’s Lara, the bride’s best friend...”

The rounds of speeches start with her, then. Halfway through her second childhood story, that you’re only paying half mind to, you realize your mouth’s still parted in shock from your conversation with Harry. You try to subtly cover it, taking a sip of your wine, before you let yourself zoom out completely for the rest of the toasts.

How come he’s been working with your mum for months now, and you’ve only now become aware of it? It’s what keeps bugging you. The possibility of her mentioning the fact comes to you, but you brush it off as quickly as you think of it. You surely would’ve remembered it. There haven't been many mentions of Harry’s name since your breakup, really, and those become less frequent as the years go by. But you hold on to each one of them, trying to grasp the smallest piece of information about his life as you can.

Truth to be told, you’ve missed him. Before you started a relationship, he had been the closest friend you had. And the fact that the worst possible scenario of turning a friendship into something more came true tore you apart.

After you distanced from each other there was very little contact. Your mother would mention every few months something about him moving out how his family had adopted a new kitten. Those informations were received by you with single word answers or a simple nod, even though on the inside you were desperate to ask for more. Harry’s never really been very in touch with social media, so those updates from your mum were pretty much all the glimpse you had on his life without you.

That is, until they all moved two years ago. Then those small comments stopped all together.

So you tried to turn your mind off of it. Off of him. But every now and then something would happen. You’d listen to a song that you used to dance to in his bedroom, or you’d find one of his necklaces lost deep in your drawer and it would all go back to him. How was he doing? Where has his life gone? Who is he friends with? Who’s loving him?

The only time you ever vocalized those thoughts was once during a wine night with Aya. People often compliment you on how good you are with your words, but every time they do, you can’t help but think they’ve probably never got the chance to meet her. She was the first person to reassure you how normal it is to hang on to an old feeling. Harry was your first love, after all, and he’d always hold a place in your heart, no matter how hard you try to mask it.

After that, you stopped trying to bury something that was so valuable to you.

And living in harmony with your feelings, old and new, is something that you found to be so tranquil. Or, well, at least you were able to say that once.

Still, the conversation with Harry only helped to enhance that curiosity that used to consume you. It was a short one-- due to the circumstances you’re in, you can’t really catch a break to have much of a profound chat; but it still was enough for you to realize how little you know of him. There are still many cues that showed you that he’s still the Harry you once knew with the fullness of your heart. His quiet demeanor, and the shy smile that stretches his lips when the attention is on him. His dimples that you used to poke and kiss just to feel them deepen under your touch. His eyes that you always could get lost in every shade they take.

Those traces that make you want to explore each new one that you don’t know about anymore. The curls in his head, that even being pushed back in a bun, you can still tell are much longer than the last time you ran our finger through them. The tattoos that peak under the sleeve of his jacket, and you can’t help but wonder how many more are hidden under the material. The rings hugging his fingers or the necklaces set on his chest. There’s so much you want to ask him about.

And the next time you get the chance to do that is hours later.

The party is starting to feel like it could die out at any moment, when the children have fallen asleep on the armchairs and the early risers start to bid their goodbyes. There’s still a fair amount of people stumbling their way on the dance floor and making the last few rounds on the free cocktails that are being served. Your table is still pretty much filled, except for Chris that got his way around with one of the bridesmaids, which is why you haven’t managed to catch another time to be alone with Harry.

Throughout the night, as the alcohol started to make its way on people’s bloodstreams, you’ve probably been approached by every person within your age group. And, as much as you’ve gotten used to being the main attraction of those types of gatherings, being thrown around and pointed at like an animal in a cage. At this stage in your career, you know you have to suck it up and smile through it. But this night in particular, you find it especially hard not to roll your eyes in annoyance or let out a frustrated sigh when someone interrupts your eighth attempt at trying to talk to Harry.

But your freedom comes when Melanie -fucking Melanie- finally announces she and her boyfriend (Dan, Dave, Don - something like that) are calling it a night. And when she leaves, it’s just you and him.

You glance over your shoulder, making sure no one’s making their way towards you, but, thankfully, everyone else is pretty occupied with the karaoke machine that was introduced an hour ago.

“I’m sneaking out for a smoke.” You reach for your clutch, eyes hopeful as you glance back at Harry. “Wanna come with?”

To your relief, he nods. “Sure.”

You guide him towards a door you had peeked at when you were taking pictures with the bride’s family.

Just like you’d reckoned, it leads to a terrace of sorts, looking out into the courtyard where the ceremony was held from above the glass ceiling. You shoot Harry a short smile as he holds the door open for you, following just behind into the breezy night.

The sky is clear, the way it is after a rainfall, but a few clouds indicate that it might not be just done yet. The first whisk of wind makes you regret not bringing your coat, but you quickly brush away the idea of going back inside, afraid someone might notice you sneaking out a second time. So you two settle in a place right by the railing, turning to the party so you can relax back into the metal.

Reaching inside your clutch, you retrieve a package of cigarettes, pulling one out before offering it to Harry, who shakes his head in a  quick decline. You hold it between your lips as you grab a small lighter that it’s almost lost inside the tiny purse. There’s still a gust of wind dancing around the air, a chill that comes with the aftermath of rainfall. You find it nice, though, the way it brings goosebumps to rise on your skin. It’s a nice balance with the warmth of the flame as you flicker the lighter awake, bringing the flame to the butt of the cigarette that’s propped between your lips. You inhale the smoke, holding it for a moment as you appreciate the peace and quiet of the night, something you haven’t had in a while now.

For a while, both of you just stay quiet, enjoying the other’s presence.

It’s almost funny to you, how people compare meeting again with someone from your past, especially an ex, to seeing a ghost. Because right now, spending this night with Harry after years of being apart, you feel like that couldn’t be further away from the truth. Being in his presence again is everything but haunting. Feels like how it is to go back to your hometown, to walk the streets you memorized growing up, knowing you still know your way around them by heart. Like seeing the places you would go to when you were younger change over time, but still never quite lose the nostalgic feeling they’ve always held. Something that time is not powerful enough to change. The feeling of coming home.

Being with Harry is like that. Still the same, but different.

Harry speaks up first, he could’ve startled you if his voice hadn’t come out as soft as the brush of the wind against the tree branches a couple floors down from where you stand. Nearly shy, as he says it while gazing down at his boots, “Congratulations on your Grammy, by the way.”

“Did you know?” You ask, genuinely surprised.

He’s the only person that hasn’t brought up the elephant you bring to the room every time you walk in a gathering like this. A shadow of your status that people glaze at before even attempting on making a normal conversation. You knew it was coming sooner or later, and you appreciate the fact that he chose the latter.

Somehow, you had convinced yourself that maybe he hadn’t cared about you enough to know anything about your career throughout the years, especially knowing how much he had going on for himself. So to have him mention it, to congratulate you on top of it all, comes as a bit of a shock.

Harry seems oblivious of your surprise, however, as his words come out nearing a nonchalant tone. “Of course, hard not to.”

“Were you…” You start, suddenly feeling oddly shy about the prospect of him knowing this information about you. You wonder what else he knows about, what kind of assumptions he’s made about the person you’ve become. “Were you watching it?”

He nods, looking up at you. “I was, yeah.”

Your chest warms at his confession and it almost unsettles you how he’s got you flustered so easily. Usually, if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t hold back a snarky reply, knowing most people wouldn’t bat an eye before showering with compliments.

You blink at yourself with this thought, hating how truthful it is.

But with Harry there’s something in you that wants to impress him, to show him you still have the girl that he knew so well still somewhere inside of you. It makes you want to question him, desperate to know his impressions of this life you portray for the public. But you hold back, almost scared of the answer you could receive. So instead, you simply offer a vague response,  “Seems like so long ago.” You let out a dry laugh. “It’s been barely three months.”

He offers you a small grin. “‘S what they say, time rushes by when you’re having fun, and all that?”

“I guess that’s it, yeah.”

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to tell him the truth. Tell him how miserable you felt throughout most of that day. That you weren’t having fun at all, in fact, you were so preoccupied over the fact that you were supposed to be having the best night of your life that it only made your nerves swallow you in an avalanche. You want to tell him why that entire week was close to miserable, fuck, that entire month, actually. You wish you could cry on his shoulder about all you’ve been bottling up inside of you. You want to open up to him in a way you haven’t opened up to anyone.

You shake your head. What is wrong with you?

You have to remind yourself you barely know him anymore. This is the first time you’ve spoken in years and your first instinct is to throw all your baggage on him. To scare him away before you even get the chance to let a word out.

Instead of letting your big mouth say more than you’d be willing to share, you try to lighten up, thinking of the one part of that night that you actually enjoyed yourself, “I chipped my tooth with it, you know.”

“What?”

“The Grammy.” You reply, taking a short drag of the cigarette as you ponder how much information you want to pour on him of that night. “Chipped my tooth. I was jumping on the bed with it.” He chuckles, causing a loose strand to curl against his forehead. You want to brush it off, folding your arm under your elbow as you avert your eyes from his. “God, that night feels like a blur now. I think I pretty much convinced myself I dreamed a good portion of it.”  

You let out a chuckle, watching the way the smoke blends with the air. Harry doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes looking at you from the corner of your vision. You meet his gaze, sensing a silent question from his jade irises, as if they’re waiting for you to keep talking.

“It just-- I don’t know, took a while to click, you know? To realize what had happened.” You elaborate, looking down at the skirt of your dress dancing along with the breeze as you grin to yourself at the memory. “ I got home that night, downed half an old bottle of whiskey that I found in my cellar.”

Harry’s brows shoot up, his voice coming with the verge of a teasing tone. “A cellar?”

“Shit, uh-- yeah it kinda-- I don’t know, came with the house.” There’s the warmth again, you feel it at the tip of your nose and you almost want to facepalm yourself for the slipup. “But yeah, after the ceremony, I went home by myself and just… Well, got drunk.”

“That’s understandable.” He giggles, and the sound makes you glance up at him again. “So you jumped in your bed with it?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how the story ends.” You click your tongue, giving him an exaggerated nod that turns into a shake. “Was so gone I didn’t even notice I chipped my tooth until I woke up a few hours later.”

He lets out a full laugh now, his eyes squinting and you can’t help but join him. “Sounds like you had fun.”

“Uhm.., I did, yeah.”

Harry falls silent, his smile toning down slowly. He puckers his lips, as if pondering what to say next. When he does speak, his words are slow, “How is it to like…” His words trail off, and you have to bite back a smile when he starts gesturing, remembering how he used to do that before. “I mean, talking to you now, even with this whole fame thing, you’re still so… Shit, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way.”

“It’s fine.” You let your cigarette fall to the floor before crashing it with your boot, the only reason you lit it was to have an excuse to leave the party with him. “Can guarantee you I had worse questions asked.”

“It’s just you’re still so… Well I wouldn’t say the same cause none of us really are the same person we were, like, five years ago.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “But you’re still so… grounded, I guess is the best word to describe it.”

You allow a grin to tuck at your lips, hoping he doesn’t sense the sincere apprehension that comes with your tease. “Were you expecting me to be a stuck up diva, is that it?”

His eyes bulge out. “No! No, of course not! Is just-- I think, well, most people think...And it’s not a you thing but more of a, I don’t know, celebrity thing? Fuck, I really dug myself a hole, haven’t I?”

“Harry, relax. I was just teasing.” You interrupt as he starts to ramble. “But I know what you mean, yeah.”

You ponder his question for a moment. The answer for it being far from a simple one, but, once again, the last thing you want is to overwhelm him with your problems. So you choose your words carefully, chewing at your bottom lip as you feel him watching you patiently.

“It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that.” You start, you voice slowing to an almost cautious tone. “I had… Worse times dealing with it, you know? I…”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, I trust you.” The words leave your mouth before you can register. You try not to show your surprise at them, and you do a better job than Harry, who audibly holds a breath. “Having so many people loving you, being praised for everything you do… It’s easy to let it go to your head, and I can’t say I’ve always been the best at managing it, but--” You regret your next words before you can even stop them from spilling from your lips. “I had a breakup a couple months ago that was uhm… A bit hard, but looking back at it I feel like it was like a bucket of cold water, in that sense.”

His eyes soften, and you have to look away because the last thing you want is to catch his reaction. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be! Really, I’m fine-- I’ll be fine.” You reassure quickly, shaking your head in hopes to shake the subject away.

It seems to work, as silence takes over the space once again, and both your eyes glance towards the party mindlessly.

You two watch Jamie appear in front of the glass doors leading to where you stand. He has his back to you, and from what you see it’s like he’s trying to pull Faye in the direction of the dance floor. She has a frown adorning her face, not giving into her husband’s attempt on pulling her with him. It’s clear, even from where you are, that he’s far off his mind now, his hips swaying with the muffled sounds of an attempt of a Céline Dion cover, still persisting even though it’s clear his wife wants nothing to do with his drunken ideas.

Faye gently pushes his hands away with a roll of her eyes, causing him to give a couple steps back, walking backwards into a chair before crumbling down with it. Neither of you can contain your laughs at the scene, even when you bring your hand up to muffle the sound, it’s too late. Jamie’s eyes look up from where he lies on the floor, catching sight of the two of you, he mumbles something you don’t understand, gesturing for you to come inside. You answer it with a small wave, and, thankfully, his attention is brought to his wife as she tries to help him stand.

You exhale a small laugh, moving so you’re no longer leaning back into the railing. “I think this is my cue to go before they try to convince me to try out that karaoke machine.”

“Yeah, I told myself I’d be out right after the toasts.”

You stop, pondering for a moment before looking back at him. “How are you going home?”

“I took the tube here.”

“Let me drive you back.”

“You don’t have--”

“It’s fine! I--” You pause, chewing down your bottom lip as you glance around him, feeling oddly embarrassed.  “I got a driver waiting for me, you can just tell him your address, won’t be a problem to drop you off.”

He hesitates, waiting a beat before nodding. “If it’s not a bother.”

“It’s not.” You say a bit too quickly. “I’m suggesting it, after all.”

“Okay, then.”

//

As soon as you dropped Harry home, when the sky was awaking lazily with an orange bloom of dawn, he started to wonder if the entire night had even been real. By the time he woke up, just a couple hours later, he was sure it had been a spur of his imagination. He must’ve fallen asleep while getting dressed, yeah, that must’ve been it, he got ready and decided to lay down for a bit, which led him to fall asleep and dream of the whole thing.

That night feels like a blur now. I think I pretty much convinced myself I dreamed a good portion of it.

You said that to him. But how convenient is it, that describes perfectly how he feels about that night? Of course, you were talking about the night you won your first Grammy, and he’s merely thinking about how it was to meet you again. The two reasons for each of you to feel this way are so polar apart, Harry can’t help but feel like it translates well into the time in your lives you two are in. After all, you’re out there winning prestigious awards, wearing Dior to go out for groceries (do you even go out for your own groceries?), and having a whole cellar in your house, for christ's sake. Meanwhile, Harry’s still a full year away from getting his degree, wearing the same mismatched vans as a fashion statement, and having cheap bottles of wine tucked in the back of his creaky wooden cabinet.

It’s not that he hates the life he has, of course not. But it’s clear to him how distant you are from each other, even when he got the closest he had been to you in years.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to him when he doesn’t hear from you for the next couple days. It’s what was expected, even. It doesn’t take away the fact that he’s a bit disappointed, though, but there’s no one else to blame for that but himself. What did he expect? That after spending one night together after five years you’d suddenly get close again as if nothing happened?

But it’s not his fault that he’s hopeful, not when you’d been so friendly that night, seeming so eager to catch up with him. So, yeah, you can’t really blame him for the hiccup on his heart every time he phone vibrated-- only to be left with a frustrated crease marking his features and a slight pout.

The day after was the worst one. It was a Sunday, after all, and Julia had left early in the morning to spend the week at Blake’s, which meant Harry had spent the entire day alone, dwelling on his confusion about what had been the night prior. He almost felt a bit stupid about how sure he had been that you’d text him, as that was the reason for you to exchange phone number with him, wasn’t it? As hours went by, however, and the loneliness of the tiny apartment got louder than the Friends’ rerun he was binging, he started to question it.

Maybe he got too nosy, asking too much about something you clearly weren’t comfortable answering. Maybe his question had offended you, and that’s why you wanted to leave early. Maybe you only gave him your number to be polite. Maybe that’s not even your actual phone number, he reckons, how many do you probably have?

He slept with the telly on that night, trying to muffle the maybes that kept nagging him.

It got better once the week started. Between classes and work, he barely had enough time to let his thoughts wander off. He was still going back to an empty home, but this time he brought back work with him. As a result of his late night on the weekend, Harry’s sleep schedule got completely spoiled. So he resorts into spending the wee hours of the morning perfecting a detailing he wasn’t all that satisfied with, or working on a draft for his fashion sketching class a week before it’s due (he even tries to cook for himself some recipes Julia sent him to try and keep his mind occupied).

Once Wednesday night rolls around, he has all but swept it out of his mind completely. And that’s when he finally hears from you.

Seems like you’ve taken a fancy on catching him off guard.

He’s on the couch when it happens, snuggled under his heated blanket as he tries to fix the embroidery at the hem of an extra’s jacket. The pilot of Stranger Things makes for background noise, and he pays half a mind to it while humming a tune that’s been stuck on his head throughout the whole day-- they started tuning in on the radio at the atelier and now he gets the privilege to listen to the same four songs about ten times a day. His alarm for a meditation app he’s trying out has just gone off on top of the side table - indicating it would be around time for his regular night routine - and just as he reaches for it to turn it off, the screen lights up again. This time for a phone call.

When he catches sight of the name displayed on the screen he almost chokes on his own saliva, the hoop in his hand falling to his lap as he rushes to catch the device. Harry blinks twice at the screen, thinking his eyes might be tricking him into seeing your name shine at the caller id. And for a moment he just stays like this, mind blank before realizing he should pick up before it goes to voicemail.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to even the thumping on his chest as he clears his throat, quickly pressing the accept button before bringing the phone to his ear. “‘Lo?”

“Harry?” Your voice comes in a higher pitch.

“Hi.”

“Are you home right now?”

His brows furrow at the question. “I-Uh- Well, yeah, Wh-”

“That’s perfect! I’m at your front door now…”

“What-” He just about jumps from his spot, tripping over the blanket as it falls around his ankles.

“And I’ve just realized I don’t know which flat to ring!” You continue, oblivious to the hectic man on the other side of the line.

“You’re outside?” Rushing to the window just a couple steps away, he pushes back the curtains to get a view of the street right below. And there you are, leaning back against a black car, similar to the one that gave him a ride, one hand holding the phone to your ear as the other is occupied with something he can’t quite figure out from where he stands. What calls his attention, though, is the gown you’re dressed in, definitely something way too lavish for a wednesday night.

“Yup.” You say simply, and he catches how your gaze moves up, meeting his. “Oh! Hey you!”

“Right. I’ll- I’ll be down in a minute.”

Harry’s not sure how he doesn’t break an ankle on the way down the steps of his building, flying three floors down at a near record speed. Once he reaches the ground floor, he takes a second to catch his breath, leaning with a hand against a wall as he cusses himself out for forgetting about his asthma in the midst of his rush. He manages to ease his breathing, but is still unable to calm the speed of his heartbeats, that now send an electric flow on his bloodstream, and he suddenly feels too warm.

He opens the door to find you just as you were when he saw you from the window. A smile stretches your face when you see him, giving him a wave. You turn back to say something on the driver's window he doesn’t quite catch, but just as you lean away from the vehicle, he watches as it drives away.

From this distance, he has a better look at you, and he’s sure now that your wednesday evening has most definitely played out much different than his. You’re wearing the new Valentino collection, a strapless navy blue dress with golden sparks detailing resembling a firework explosion right at your waist and going all the way down the skirt and up the top. Your hair is done in an updo, leaving your shoulders bare to the night breeze and he wonders if you’re not cold.

Harry barely has time to notice the silver statuete in your hand before you’re stepping towards him, embracing him into a hug. “Hey!”

“Hi.” He tries not to focus on how you smell like fresh roses, or how soft your skin feels when you nuzzle against his neck for a second before pulling back.

“I was around and decided to stop by for a bit!” You grin up at him. “So, are you not gonna invite me up?”

The last few words come out just a bit slurred from your mouth, and that’s when he realizes.

Oh.

You’re drunk.

“Uh, sure, of course.” He holds the door open, waiting for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

You don’t say anything on the way up, and Harry’s got his head going way too fast at once to try to wrap his mind at what’s happening. There’s too many questions he wants to ask, more than he can really make out at the moment. And on top of it all, he’s just started to worry about the state of his tiny little undergrad flat and how he’s about to receive someone who probably has a house with a washroom the size of the whole thing.

His lips part to try to apologize for the mess you’re about to walk in when you two reach his front door, but before he can let a word out, you beat him to it. “Do you have a loo I could use?”

He blinks. “Yeah, it’s just to your right.”

You step out of your heels once you walk in, quickly making a beeline to where he directed, not bothering to glance around the place.

Harry darts towards the living room, trying his best to tidy the mess he left before you step out. He throws the blanket that’s lying limply on the floor over the couch, gathering his embroidery tools that fell to the side of the couch and making his best attempt at folding them. The screen has gone to the second episode now, and he quickly shuts it off. Pondering for a moment if he should put on some music, he decides against it. Instead, he decides on pouring you a glass of water, now that he understands you’re still at least a bit tipsy, he finds it that his best option is to help you get on your best mind so he can figure out why, out of all places, you’ve decided to come here.

Because that’s the thing.

He still doesn’t know why on earth you’ve decided to show up on his flat unprompted, and all he can do is thank every outer force for Julia being out tonight. She would probably fall dead if she knew about this.

A minute too long passes as Harry waits for you, leaning on his kitchen counter with the glass of water sat in front of him. He feels as if he can’t keep still, leg bouncing nervously and fingers tapping against the countertop as he bites into his inner cheek. It’s only when he finally glances in the direction of the toilet that he notices. The door is wide open.

He strides towards the room, stopping just as he reaches the doorway. “Is everything alright in there?”

“Oh! Yeah! You can come in!” Your voice echoes from inside.

Peeking in slowly, his brows shoot up as he sees you sitting at the edge of the bathtub, phone in hands and the statute lying on your lap. You shoot him a smile.

He gestures back vaguely to the kitchen behind him. “Got you some water.”

“There’s no need for that, tonight it’s to celebrate! --Oop” You try to straighten your back, but you end up falling back into the tub, the tulle of the skirt almost swallowing you in the process.

“Fuck-” He rushes towards you, reaching from your arms to try to help you as you burst into giggles. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m great!” You assure, waving his hands off as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably. “Do you have any wine you can pop?”

“I--” The question takes him back, and he racks his brain to think if there’s still a bottle he’d purchased a couple weeks ago.  “I think so.”

“Bring it, then, let's make this our little after-party.” You throw your arms around dramatically. “A very exclusive one, as you can see.”

“Right.” He chuckles. “Give me a minute.”

“I’ll be right here!”

Turns up there’s just about half a bottle left sitting inside the creaky cabinet. He chooses the glass with the smallest crack at the base-- the glasses are very cheap and Harry’s not very careful with them.

He decides to leave the bottle at the counter, grabbing the filled glass of water as well before heading back where he left you sitting inside his bathtub.  

“There he is!” You exclaim when he walks in, handing you the glass of wine and setting the other next to the sink. “You didn’t pour one for yourself?”

He closes the lid of the toilet, sitting on top of it. “Uhm… Not really a drinking kind of night for me.”

“Oh god!” You gasp. “Of course, how could I be so stupid? I’ll leave you be--”

“No!” Harry quickly asserts,  “No, I mean- It’s fine, really. I was just surprised, is all.”

When you speak, your voice comes out softer, “I don’t mean to disturb.”

“You aren’t!”He assures. “Really, stay I-- It’s nice to see you again.”

You smile up at him, he can tell from this close how your eyes are a bit glossy, and he wonders if he should’ve told you he didn’t have any wine. But still, it’s live you have him at the palm of your hand. “It’s nice to see you again, too.”You scoop a bit to the side, tapping the space next to you. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come join me here.”

“I don’t think it fits us both.”

“Of course it does! Here,” You attempt to pull at your skirt with one hand, barely budging the tulle from where it spreads inside the tub. “See?”

He chuckles as you look back up at him. “I’ll ruin your dress.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I’ll wear it again.” Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, I sounded like a bitch, I didn’t mean it like that just--” Trying again, you do a better job at containing the skirt, giving it enough space for him to sit. “There. Now we can both sit inside, my dress will be intact!”

He laughs, dropping next to you inside the empty bathtub. The hem of your skirt tickles his skin, and he mindlessly reaches to hold the fabric between his fingers. His eyes fall to your lap as he does so, the silver of the statuete catching his eye, he taps the base of it, “What is it for?”

“Huh?” You stop midsip, brows creasing slightly before gazing down to where he’s pointing. “Oh! It’s a Brit. Best New Artist.” Picking it up, you offer it to Harry. The award feels heavier than he thought it would as he holds it, the shape of it resembling a woman’s shape, her body curving in an ‘S’. You sigh next to him, taking a small sip. “Funny, innit? Been doing this for so long, it feels like, but I’m still being treated as if I’m new blood.”

“That’s true.” He turns the award in his hand before handing it back to you, and you simply let it fall back to your lap. There’s a moment of silence as he mulls over the question he’s been wanting to ask since you showed up at his doorstep. “Why didn’t you go to an after-party?”

“Not really in the mood.” You shrug. “Needed a familiar face, I guess.”

He hums in response. Surely, you’ve got plenty of familiar faces in London, ones that you probably see more often than you’ve ever seen him. Friends. Family. So why was it your first instinct to go to his building? You didn’t even text him after you parted ways after the wedding, he was sure you had even forgotten about him once again.

It’s all much too confusing to him.

“H?” You speak up first, your tone is gentle, even a bit uncertain.

The sound of his nickname falling from your lips causes a stutter on his heartbeat.

“Yeah?”

You’re looking down at your lap, watching the liquid inside your glass twirl as you move it slowly. “Is it… Is it too weird that I came here today?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not weird, no.” He comforts. “Was just surprised, is all.”

“I just-” You sigh, a soft frown set between your brows. “Seeing you again, it was really nice, you know?”

“I do.”

“Really.” You meet his eyes with a nod, trying to show how truthful your words are. “Felt like I could let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding for so long.”

He relaxes his shoulders. “I know.” Harry nods. “Yeah I-- I know what you mean.”

When you speak up again, it’s barely above a whisper. The words so sweet it brings the prettiest butterflies to flutter on his belly. “I missed you.”

Harry’s lips part, he wants to say the words back, he can feel them at the tip of his tongue. Because he’s missed you, too. He’s so sure of it. But nothing comes out, his mind going numb as he blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, this was weird, It’s just--” You shake your head to yourself, letting out a nervous laugh. “What I mean is that… I don’t know, I wish we could’ve still talked, you know? After…”

“Yeah.”

You grin. “At the reception, when we chatted, and you told me all those things you’ve been up to, it just… I don’t know, I just wished I could’ve been there with you.” Your eyes look between his, searching for something he can’t quite put his finger on before you take a breath. “And I don’t mean that, like, in a weird way! But as a friend, you know? Wish I could’ve been there with you.”

He clears his throat, forcing himself to speak. “I didn’t…” He opens his mouth, closing it before finally saying. “I never thought you felt that way.”

“I don’t think I realized how much I needed someone close to me that knows me until I saw you again, really.”The words spill out of your mouth, adorably switching from a gentle tone to a rushed one. “And I mean, I have friends that I love and that I trust but… Having someone that’s like…”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Normal?”

“Don’t say it like that!” You shove him playfully. “But, yeah, someone that knows me without the lights, and the expensive clothes, and the big houses.” Your lips frown as you shrug.  “That just wouldn’t care if I didn’t have all that, that would still like me regardless.”

“You can still have that.” He tries to reassure you, the confession making him want to comfort you. “It’s not too late.”

Looking down at your lap, he sees your breathing halter for a second. “Have we become strangers?” You meet his gaze, chewing down at your bottom lip. “It’s what I kept thinking after I dropped you off, I don’t think I want you to be a stranger.”

Then, he reaches up, brushing a strand out of your forehead. “I don’t think I want that, either.”

Your smile grows. “It’s settled, then.” You nod. “I’m officially promoting you from distant ex to the close friend position.”

Harry lets out a full laugh. “That’s a very sudden rise of positions.”

“We’ll make it slow, then.” You reason, your words starting to stumble out of your mouth again. “Get to know each other again, we can do it when I’m not drunk inside your bathtub. Do you like coffee now?”

“I do, actually.” He replies with a grin. “Hard not to when you’re a uni student.”

“Lovely! We’ll have a coffee and chat.”

“Sounds great.”

You hold up your almost empty wine glass.“To caffeine and friendship.” Tilting it. “Cheers.”

He lets a moment of silence settle, before smirking down at you. “Now, what you said about the expensive clothes…”

“Oh my god, cut the deal.” Rolling your eyes, you try to make it as if you’re about to get up. “We don’t need to get to know each other again, I can tell you’re still a pest.”

“Don’t know what you mean, pet.” He giggles, brushing his hair off his shoulder in dramatics. “I’ve always been a dream.”

//

A/N: I’ve been so excited to share this one with you all!! Thank you so much for reading it :D I’m so curious to know what you all will think about it so please, if you enjoyed it, reblog it or send some feedback to support!! Also, make sure to check the fic page where I keep all my inspo for Curious Time :)

[abovethesmokestacks]

Kiss Me

Title: Kiss Me

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Rating: T

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Very intense kissing? Some grinding?

I am back on my Henry bullshit, this time with the lovely Captain Syverson. As with my last Henry fic, this came about from a discussion with Brooke, which led to a personalized fic, and she graciously okayed me posting it as a reader insert for the rest of you to enjoy. Partly inspired by the video of strangers kissing for the first time. And if this guy were the one I’d get to kiss? Hold on while I go full koala on him.

The early afternoon sun had seemed blistering when she left her apartment, and the sundress had been the obvious option; light, breezy material, a pretty pattern that combined comfort and style. The sun had nothing on the man sitting down opposite her now, radiating a kind of warmth and confidence that had heat creeping up her chest and neck, her fingers fiddling in her lap.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, an audition call shared by a recent acquaintance on Instagram. Film majors at the nearby college needed volunteers for a course project, weekend appointments, no experience needed, come as you are. Sounded fun, her weekends were mostly open anyway. What could possibly go wrong. She had messaged the contact person, gotten an address and a time to show up.

The first shock, admittedly, had come as she was signed in, given a form to fill out, detailing the project. She. Was going to kiss. A stranger. In front of cameras. For a film project. 

“Miss? Are you alright?” The bubbly brunette who had signed her in, Abigail, according to the name tag tacked to her t-shirt, had looked at her, and she realized she must have made a sound.

“No! No, I'm fine, I- I just didn’t realize I’d- That this was-”

“Oh! Oh, you’ll be fine, there will be people in the room, you'll be safe as houses, darling, we won't say your names, that'll be up to you to share if you want.” The twang of her accent had was oddly comforting, but her heart was still racing, and suddenly, the handful of people lined up sitting in the corridor seemed all the more dangerous. She was going to kiss one of them. Fuck. Hastily, she'd filled out the rest of the form, handing it back and taking the number given, finding the nearest chair and trying to rifle through her purse as discreetly as she could for a chewing gum or a breath mint. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She had nearly launched out of her seat when her number was called, probably doing a credible impression of a deer caught in headlights. Abigail had smiled at her, motioning for her to follow.

“I promise, you will be fine. Our project manager wanted to explore the intimacy of the first kiss, what happens in those seconds before.”

“Why strangers?”

“It’s more… honest,” Abigail had said. “Couples know each other, know what to expect. They are comfortable. And it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing sweeter. I still remember my grandpa kissing my grandma goodnight when my brother and I would stay over when we were kids, the absolute comfort and love between them. But strangers, they don’t know what to expect. There’s a level of trust between them, courage to take the leap.”

That’s… She couldn’t decide if that eased her mind or set it racing even more. She’d simply nodded, letting Abigail lead her to a door a little way ahead, unlocking it for her.

“You can leave your purse on the table on the right when you enter. Then go sit in one of the chairs. I’ll bring the guy in shortly. The camera will start rolling as soon as he sits down, you can introduce yourself if you want, just your name, doesn't even have to be your real one if you don't want to, and you can share whatever else you feel comfortable sharing and then…”

“Then we kiss.”

It had seemed so simple, so straightforward in all its terrifying simplicity.

At first, there is only the outline of him, stark against the light outside the room and showing a muscular frame with tensed shoulders and a wary gait. Folding her hands in her lap, she picks at the fabric of her dress, folding the skirt into tight pleats between her fingers, following the man as he inches closer. Dark jeans that reveal long legs and thick thighs, a worn t-shirt tucked into them that stretches over a chest that is… impressive. His face, though… His face is what sets her heart fluttering all anew. A strong jaw, hidden under a neatly trimmed beard, a slightly pouty lower lip and a perfect cupid’s bow. His nose looks like it may have been broken once, but it’s been set pretty well, lends character to his face, enhanced by the clear blue of his eyes that focus in on her. His hair is short, curling a little at the ends, but kept as neat as his beard, almost like a military man, but she can spot no chain around his neck that would hold his dog tags.

And then, he’d walked in. 

She barely hears the murmur to her left when the cameras start rolling.

He doesn’t speak until he’s sitting down, gaze on her, softening a little as he holds out a hand.

“Ca- Shit, sorry. No names, right?” He looks at her, almost a little scared that he’s messed up, and it is far too endearing for such a rugged man.

Without hesitation, she gives her first name, her real first name, a little surprised at herself for offering it along with her hand. His hand is calloused, warm and big, her own palm almost drowning in his clasp when he takes it. “Nice to meet you.”

The man laughs, releasing her hand and relaxing in his seat. “Sy. Nice to meet you, too. Pardon me if I'm being rude, but you don't sound like you're from around here.”

“Here for work for the next couple of months. Gotta say, you've got a pretty good ear.”

His eyes sparkle, a smile tugging at his lips, and god, the heat rises in her again, different from the apprehension that had her worked up just moments ago. He is the kind of man that draws you in, that can make you melt with a look, and she is fading fast. She is going to kiss him. He is going to kiss her.

“I won't hold it against you," Sy quips, hands resting on his thighs, and god, she wants to feel them on her.

"Me not being from around here? Or are we talking about something else?"

"Well, I was thinking the first..."

His words trail off, the suggestion hanging heavy in the silence. It feels like it stretches an eternity between them, but it's probably no more than five seconds. She's about to ask if they should start, if she should move, but Sy is looking at her, gaze wandering, assessing. The way he takes her in,i's not objectifying or greedy, not judgmental. It's… curiosity. Assessing her, planning his move, appreciating her, and she can feel it, feel his gaze move up and down her face, when it dips down for a fraction to her chest.

Everything fades with his first move. There are no cameras, no people, no one but them. Sy moves slowly, deliberately, scooting to sit on the edge of the chair, knee knocking against hers. It's electric, making her flinch and gasp, and that seems to please him. His hand comes up to rest on her knee, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, locking eyes with her, willing her to relax.

"There we go…" Sy croons when she lets out a small sigh, his voice low and velvety. "Just relax. 'S just you an' me here. Don’t need to think about the rest of ‘em.. I'll be good, darlin', you can trust me. Isn't that right?"

She can only nod, inching towards the edge of her own chair, drawn into his warmth, the gentle timbre of his voice, the smolder behind the blue of his eyes.

"Yeah, that’s right, sugar. C’mon, come closer.”

His voice is hypnotic, not quite a purr, not quite a rumble, but it begs to be obeyed. She leans in closer, the two of them mirroring each other, and the tension is no longer in his shoulder, but sparking between them. His measured breaths fan lightly against her skin, and though everything in her should, by all logic, tell her to run, she finds herself relaxing. Sy’s thumb keeps working tight little circles, and he moves slowly, giving her plenty of time to see his intentions, and God, she welcomes it, tilts her head to welcome him.

It’s no explosion of stars or fireworks. His lips are a little chapped, but he knows how to kiss, working against her in soft pressure and the tease of his tongue along the seam of her lips. It’s not forcing the kiss, just giving her the option, showing that he is offering. When his other hand comes up to cup her cheek, she can’t help the needy whine that escapes her, and Sy smiles into the kiss, deepens it a little, swipes his tongue along her lips again.

She opens, happily surrendering, feeling him push back, soothing his thumb along her cheekbone. He kisses like she is the one thing he has been longing for, his happily ever after at the end of a long adventure. She kisses like he is the single point of stability in a storm, the one safe harbour in the entire world. Their spaces intertwine, slowly phasing and his one hand on her cheek is nowhere near enough. She pushes, Sy gives, and in one fluid moment and a happy sigh, she has straddled his lap, slinging her arms around his neck. She’s not letting go, not leaving this moment, and it’s almost like triumph when he embraces her, palms splaying on her back and she can feel the warmth through the thin material of her dress.

It’s a kiss for the ages, and they’re both hungry, both taking what the other gives freely. Sy’s hands wander, his fingertips teasing at the neckline to brush against heated skin, and she digs short, manicured nails into the skin of his neck, revelling in the groan he lets out. He pulls her closer, and oh. Her stomach does a somersault, a surprised giggle punctuating their kiss. Under her, Sy is hard, and the brief contact makes her all too aware of just how damp her panties have gotten.

There’s a less than discreet cough, and it pops their bubble, their gazes both snapping to the sound. 

Right.

The film crew are standing behind their gear, some squirming, clearly a little uncomfortable. Sy gives a laugh, and it’s hard not to follow. She still feels winded from the kiss, head swimming, and she touches her forehead to his, biting her lower lip.

“I think we… might have overdone it,” she whispers, lips brushing against his cheek.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Sy agrees, his shoulders shuddering with poorly disguised mirth. He looks up at the film crew, “So, are we good?”

“Yup, great! We’re really- we’re good, you guys can, uh… Yeah. Good. Thanks. Um. Yeah. Great.”

They both laugh again at the awkward crew member, and she slowly eases off Sy’s lap. It’s too much of a temptation not to glance down, to raise an eyebrow at the visible bulge pressing against his jeans. He gives her a mock-chiding look before getting up himself, taking care to not face the crew as he falls into step next to her.

“Look,” he says as soon as they are out of the building, wringing his hands as he walks, “I know we just met, and that… that back there was for a project. But, god, sugar, you got my head spinning all kinds of ways, and I… it would be rude to ask to continue right away where we left off, much as I… god, I would really, really like to kiss you again, and… other things… But maybe you would be okay with a date? Anywhere you want. You can get to know me better. I’ll answer any questions you have, I’ll bring character references, I’ll pay for dinner and dessert, whatever you want.”

Halting, she tilts her head and looks up at him. The steely look that had assessed her when he’d entered the room is gone, as is most of the smoldering passion when their kiss had broken. It still lingers in his eyes, simmering behind the hope that made them glitter.

“You’ll answer any question?” she asks, smiling at the way he eagerly nods. “Is your name really Sy?”

“Yes. Well, technically. Syverson’s my last name, so Sy’s just a nickname.”

“And your first name? You started saying something else when you came in.”

“No, that was… I was in the army for a couple of years,” he explained, pulling up one of the sleeves of his shirt to show an army insignia tattooed on his bulging bicep. She bites her tongue, wondering if he had any other tattoos on his body, almost missing when Sy continues speaking, “-made it to captain before I got my honourable discharge. Just became a force of habit to introduce myself as Captain Syverson.”

“So, you’d bring one of your army buddies as your character reference?” She slows down to a stop, clasping her hands in front of herself. “I suppose now that you’re out of the army they wouldn’t feel as compelled to make you look good.”

Sy mirrors her, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped in front of him, and yeah, now she can see it, the posture. Definitely army guy. “No, no, god no! The guys in my unit would sooner throw me under the bus if I asked them to vouch for me in front of a pretty lady.”

“Oh, then who’d get the honour?” she asks, blushing at his compliment.

“When you signed in, there was a girl, right? Brown hair?”

“Abigail.”

“Abby,” Sy says, glancing back towards the building. “She’s my sister. Talked me into coming today, said they needed more people.”

“She must have something major hanging over you if she got you to agree to this.” Her voice is light, joking a she inches closer to him.

“Well…” Sy drawls, taking a step forward and gently grasping her hand, “I was promised a really good kiss.”

“A really good kiss, huh?”

Just like before, he makes the first move, hooking his finger under her chin and holding her still while he closes the space, capturing her lips in another kiss. It’s searing, slowly setting her afire, and she wants it, wants him, wants everything he’s giving and everything he’s offering. He keeps it short, and she can feel herself get up on her tippy toes to get more, and damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. She bites her lower lip.

“So how about that date, huh, darlin’?” Sy husks out, and fuck, she can hear the smile in his voice.

“I can pick the place?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And I can pick the time?”

“Any time you want.”

She reaches out, puts a hand on his neck, drags her fingers along warm skin and pulls him down to whisper in his ear.

“Your place. Right now. And dinner… is on me.”

[neocatharsis]

Ten on his new Represent capsule, grappling with creativity, and evading genre lines.

As Ten Lee - a vocalist and dancer in K-pop groups NCT (with whom he debuted in 2016) and Super M, and Chinese group WayV - is musing over his proclivity for partnering music or visual styles in a way that others deem strange, he veers off on a tangent. “Anything can be matched… except juice and coffee,” he says, suddenly. “Those two should never be.” Ten is infamously anti-fruit. It stems from a mistaken process of association in childhood where “I had the image of a spider and the image of fruit mixed up,” he laughs awkwardly, “so now whenever I put fruit in my mouth, I think there’s spiders in my mouth.”

Random abstractions such as this pepper his rapid-fire conversation, like small fireworks fizzing through the dark. Excitable, enthused and sharply alert, if Ten’s energy was visible it would be a shimmering mantle of gold and silver dust. As a dancer, he moves with a sinuous, controlled power that can shift from elegant to explosive on a single beat. As a visual artist, the Bangkok-born, multilingual 25-year-old recently added the title of designer to his growing list of achievements, launching an already sold out collaboration with the bespoke merch platform Represent.

Aptly, he named his collaboration “What is ??? THE ANSWERS”, for although being a chameleonic artist is one of Ten’s greatest strengths, the personality traits that enable this created within him question marks around how he saw himself fitting into the world. “People ask me, ‘What kind of music do you like?’ And I say, ‘I like R&B but hope it sounds rock’. And they’re like, ‘That doesn’t make sense’.” It was troubling to Ten that people began telling him who he was and how he should be, instead of accepting him as is.

In a recent Instagram Live, the myriad of Ten’s contrasts tumble forthwith. He’s the doting cat-dad. His inner emo, who loves rock music, shows off dried roses, with the stern, black, geometric lines of the large tattoo on his inner right arm sometimes visible. But he’s also delicate in a way, with his butterfly tattoo and hair lightly permed, who names daisies as his other favourite flower, and plays Fousheé’s breathy TikTok hit, 'Deep End'.

“Have you seen the image where I have my name in a cross in lots of different languages?” He pulls the image up on his phone. The design sits on his Represent long sleeve tee. “I was thinking [about this], like, what you’re saying... Ten has this luvvie flower side and a very ‘rawwrr!’ side. I’m always like, ‘Ten, what kind of person are you?’ I do ask myself that, too, because everything I like is so different [to the other].” He could have conceded, and reined himself in. He’s pushed back instead. “I thought, ‘I can be anything I want, I can be this in the morning and this at night. I can be any person I want to be’. And that’s what makes me comfortable and happy.”

On his Instagram, Polaroids feature scrawled messages, like “Don’t tell me what to do!” and “Whatever! I’ll do it my way”. The designs of his collaboration seek to challenge being boxed in by other people’s standards, thus limiting ourselves. The recurring symbol of a cross tipped with arrows is a nod to the Chinese letter for 10, but doubles as a plus sign. He’s added it to his Instagram, writing “TEN_+•10” in his bio. “A plus sign can mean that you’re adding on and growing.” He points to another version of the arrow-cross, one with short diagonal dashes between its points that symbolise light. It means, he says, “that I’m radiating. I’m burning, I’m active, I’m doubling myself.” He touches his forearm, where crowning his geometric tattoo is a blazing sun. “I have this, like, if you want to be the light, you have to burn. I relate to that.”

This isn’t to say Ten’s self-exploration is complete. While celebrating his strengths, the artwork also portrays parts of himself not yet conquered. He admits to being a chronic overthinker: “Even very small things that happen to me, I rethink a thousand times, and I get stressed out because of the things I do. Like, the main theme [here] is me overthinking but trying to find an answer even though it doesn’t have any answer.” Fittingly, spiral shapes dominate his designs, looming large amongst bright, bold shapes that evoke 80s Pop Art and graffiti, though Ten shies away from defining himself as “fully an artist, I’m not in the position to say things like that yet.”

“I’m still learning and trying new things. You learn by getting different elements from different people and I’m in that stage now.” He enjoys wandering the infinite halls of Instagram and Pinterest where he screenshots art that he likes, lost in the images, often for hours. He explains that he’s mostly influenced by whatever his current visual obsession is. “I’m interested in tattoos lately so my paintings look like tattoo designs. I’m that person who, when they see stuff, it goes into my brain and instantly comes out from my hands,” he laughs.

Ten’s introduction to art and design was through his mother, who believed music, art and sport were more important in a child’s development than traditional academia. “She didn’t care if I got an A* or not, just don’t get an F or a D,” he grins. Like any kid forced to do something, Ten railed against spending his weekends at art school. He attended but he didn’t draw. He befriended his teacher and other pupils and, as they worked, he chatted. “I was a very talkative kid! When I came to SM Entertainment (in 2013), I had a lot of my own time because my parents were in Thailand and I was alone. I had to absorb all the new culture and adapt to a new environment.’” When he felt surrounded by “negative energy”, he began drawing, enamoured with the space and freedom it offered because in art, as he often says, “there’s no right answer.”

There is, however, sometimes a middle ground. His goal was to make the Represent collection accessible to his diverse fanbase. “I wanted to make things that people can easily wear because it was my first project to make something with clothes and it’s a collab. If you go too far out, no one will get it. If you go too far back, people won’t reach for it. So finding the middle ground is important but that’s the hardest thing to do. If it’s my own project, I’ll be like, ‘I’m the president of this brand, I’m gonna make all the weird clothes that I can imagine!’”

He sought second opinions to ensure his designs landed the way he hoped. “I have a lot of good friends around me - my choreographer, (SHINee and Super M member) Taemin hyung, my manager. I randomly ask people I’m comfortable with and have known for a long time, like Mark (Lee, of NCT and Super M). Mark has the same kind of perspective as me, but I’m a person who is arrghhh!” He waves his hands in the air. “And he’s very calm. I need a person who is opposite of me because when I’m in a mood, I talk nonsense - ‘I wanna do this, I wanna do that, I wanna make this!’ - and Mark’s like,’Bro, calm down’,” he says in a rather uncanny impression of the Canadian-Korean.

Ten works fast when he’s drawing. He has to. He describes his personality as someone who can't wait until the next day to do something. “I’m very impatient,” he smiles. “If I’m going to paint or draw, I’m going to finish it in, like, two hours. I can’t sit down for three hours.” When inspiration hits him, it’s off the back of deep contemplation, sometimes about the mundane - “Like, why do the cats come to me when they’re hungry only? Is it selfish or instinct? - at other times, something affecting him emotionally.

But whereas his job as a singer and dancer sees him project his energy outwards, art offers the opposite. He’s often alone in his room when he works. As is for many artists, the right mood is fundamental. “When I’m in a good mood, I can’t draw,” he half-sighs. It’s also a multi-sensory process. “Smell or the temperature of the room, that really helps me draw. I light three or four candles. And when I draw, it’s kind of heavy, the feeling,” he explains. “It feels like you’re sinking into something, into yourself, and everything seems so small. Everything narrows down into me, my pencil, the paper.”

The more work he does in different creative mediums, the less Ten’s desire is to keep them separate. His art, dance and music influence each other, whether it’s customising his own collaboration pieces, a choreography video in an art gallery or dancing underwater with a film crew. When someone tells him that something won’t work or match up well, he refuses to let the idea go until he’s attempted it.

“I’ve had that since I was young. I think everything is possible. If you don’t try, you don’t know. When people say it’s impossible, like dancing in water for three minutes, I’m like, then let’s make it possible. You don’t need to walk a straight line [in life], you can walk this way,” Ten says, pointing along an invisible line before switching sharply in direction. “Then go back on track, go that way, come back. No one should tell you to walk in a line, I don’t see the point of that.”

© Clash Magazine