#bittie | verse | bartender.

[persistcnt]

*tag drop for devon and bittie!

[alphacrone]

Heart Like Mine - or, Bitty finds himself in a McDonald’s on a lonely, Wednesday evening

[Part of the Blue-Eyed Jack ‘verse - Takes place in Nashville, long before Jack and Bitty meet...]

CW: mentions of homophobia, running away, vague mentions of homelessness, a very very lonely boy reconsiders his life choices, hopeful ending i promise

AN: So I was listening to Emily’s FANTASTIC playlist she made for Bitty in this universe and actually started crying at work thinking about Bitty when Heart Like Mine came on, so I had to write this little piece. 

Cause I heard Jesus He drank wine And I bet we'd get along just fine He could calm a storm and heal the blind And I bet He'd understand a heart like mine

-Miranda Lambert, Heart Like Mine

Eric didn’t know why he was here.

And — gosh — it was weird to think of himself as Eric, but that was the only name people knew him by in Nashville. He grew up as Baby and Dicky and Junior, as Sweetheart and Boo Boo and Champ. He went by other names as he got older, crueler names hissed at him in hallway at school, shouted at him from across the street. The kids in first grade called him Little Bittle, but even that seemed preferable to Eric in this moment. Eric was the lonely name of a lonely boy hundreds of miles away from a place he couldn’t call home. But it was the only name he had anymore.

It still didn’t explain why he felt the need to wander into a random church on a rainy, Wednesday evening.

Back in Georgia, Eric had attended church every single Sunday with his mama and Coach. He took communion with half the town, and it was the one moment in the whole week he felt like he was one of them. The reverend didn’t have the nicest things to say about boys like him, but when he spoke of love and peace and turning the other cheek, Eric felt like he could survive Madison and come out the other side a better person than he’d been before.

Well, he’d survived. But he’d become someone he didn’t know, someone who left in the middle of the night with no goodbye, save for the note on the kitchen table that read, I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t look for me.

Eric hadn’t signed it; that was the moment he shed all the names of his past, like he’d scraped off a snakeskin on the doorframe as he walked away.

Now that he sat here, in the back pew of an empty church, shivering under the blast of the A/C, Eric wondered if he’d ever grow his new skin, or if he’d feel this raw and tender forever.

In the lobby, he could hear someone vacuuming the carpet. Somehow it comforted Eric to know he wasn’t the only person in the building. He thought he’d come here to find God, to have one of those religious epiphanies that only happens when you’re the only one for miles, but maybe he’d just been looking for home.

“This is dumb,” he murmured, standing too quickly. He’d worked long and hard today — construction jobs were ruthless but paid better than the shitty tips he’d been getting at TGI Friday’s — and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The world spun as he stumbled back out of the church, face and hands going cold and numb. The rain was coming down harder now, and Eric was just grateful he’d managed to save up enough to rent a closet-sized room in a sketchy sublease. Maybe he’d stop by a Bojangles and treat himself to chicken and biscuits, if only to fill his stomach better than a ramen pack would.

Eric didn’t find a Bojangles anywhere between the church and his apartment, to his disappointment, but he did find a McDonald’s, which was almost as good. The food was hot and salty and made him forget his aching muscles or the fact that after living in Nashville for several months he’d yet to land any sort of gig — not even at an old folks’ home or at an open-mic. The best he’d done was the day a kind woman dropped a twenty in his open guitar case as he busked on the Strip — one of ten curbside singers in a five-block radius. Maybe he’d have had more luck hitchhiking down to Austin to try his luck among the Willie Nelson- and Stevie Ray Vaughan-wannabes. But Eric couldn’t imagine having more than one state line between him and the family he’d left behind, as far away as he felt now.

“Give me a sign,” he said, staring down at his half-eaten burger and fries. “Give me a sign to give up and move on with my life.”

Eric didn’t know if he was speaking to God or the universe or the spirit of the cow that was now his dinner, but it didn’t matter. He’d take anything as an omen now, take any sort of permission to let his dreams die and move on from the bright lights of Nashville.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I sit here? I don’t really want to eat alone.”

Eric looked up into warm, brown eyes peering down at him curiously. They belonged a boy — no, a young man — who couldn’t have been much older than Eric himself. He wore one of those Best Buy ‘Geek Squad’ polos and looked as worn as Eric felt, but his smile was bright and kind.

“Sure,” Eric said, voice coming out as more of a surprised squeak. “I’m- I’m Eric.”

“Abel,” the man said. He sat down in the seat across from Eric, setting down his tray. “And thanks. I was gonna take this home, but my roommates are out and I guess I just wasn’t ready to sit in an empty apartment by myself.”

There was a loneliness in Abel’s eyes that felt achingly familiar. Eric nodded in understanding.

“I’m grateful for the company,” he said, picking at the seeds on his bun. “I was feelin’ a bit lonely myself.”

Abel smiled at him and they dug into their meals in a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Abel swallowed a large mouthful of burger and asked, “So, Eric, what do you do?”

Ah, the horrors of smalltalk. “Oh, um, right now I’m working in construction. S’the best work I could find. Been thinking ‘bout saving up to take a class or something, maybe get into something vocational.” He nodded at Abel’s shirt. “Never really had booksmarts. ‘C’s get degrees’ and all that.” He laughed nervously.

“You know anything about bartending?” Abel asked. “My cousin’s got a little dive near here, he’s looking for a bartender. Pays decently, not nearly as dangerous as construction.”

“Sadly, no,” Eric said with a shrug. “Only time I’ve ever spent in bars has been going to shows. I’m only 19.”

“That’s old enough for plenty of people,” Abel said, not unkindly. “What shows do you go to?”

Eric shrugged, popping a french fry into his mouth. “Mostly country, lots of up-and-coming singers and bands. Sometimes more indie stuff, but country’s my thing, for better or worse.”  

“You a singer?” Abel asked around a mouthful of food. When Eric nodded, he continued, “You should sign up for the open mic battle at Black-Eyed Susan’s — it’s this terrible bar that only stays open because it hosts really fun competitions and shows and stuff.”

“Oh.” Eric sat a little straighter. This wasn’t the sign he’d asked for at all, but he’d be a fool not to see it as the opportunity it was. “Yeah, that’d be- that’d be great.”

“Here,” Abel pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled vague directions down on a napkin. “I forget the address, but it’s not that far from here. If you talk to a girl named Jenny, tell her I sent you.” He paused, smiling goofily. “That’s my sister. She’s the best.”

Eric laughed. “I’m sure she is. Thank you, this is- I walked in here ready to give up and you really turned my night around.”

Abel shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It’s nothing. I thought I’d be eating by myself and now I have a new friend. Sometimes magical things can happen in a McDonald’s on a rainy day, Eric.”

But it wasn’t magic, or even divine intervention. The universe didn’t really care what happened to Eric, but maybe Nashville would.

“Call me Bitty,” he said after a moment. Itty Bitty Bittle, he could hear the boys in the locker room jeering, but the memory didn’t hurt like it once had. He’d show them; he’d show them all what Bitty could do. “No one’s ever really called me Eric. I go by Bitty.”

Abel shrugged and smiled and said, “Well, then, it’s real nice to meet you, Bitty. I really can’t wait to hear you sing.”

[Blue-Eyed Jack Masterpost]

[Writing tag]

[My online novel, The Discourt Knife]

[siircns]

okay, so i’ve been meaning to do this for a while because i’ve had a bunch of new muses that i want to put out there. so under the cut is some information about a variety of new and new-ish, some returning and some that just don’t have much, muses that i’ve got. give it a quick read, and then give this post a like if you’d wish to have a starter from them! (i’ll come to you about which muse).

tenley harding. 23. aspiring screenwriter, personal assistant. los angeles. barbara palvin.

so tenley is my precious little bean, she’s such a sweetheart. she loves soft things, she loves to write, her favorite place in the entire world griffith park because there’s this little spot she always goes to sit to write. she’s a stationery fanatic from hell, she spends way too much money on it (she gets it from me, sorry). but honestly she’s just an unintentionally reclusive sort of person--she’s not shy by any means, but she always ends up by herself, which she’s not entirely against. super friendly little bean. tenley is currently working as a personal assistant (where is dependent on verse or plot) while she’s trying to make it with her screenwriting. super friendly, but sometimes comes off as flakey because of her inevitable, unintentional habit to be reclusive. pansexual, biromantic.

dahlia taylor. 27. travel photographer and journalist. from melbourne, australia, but her present location is always changing. margot robbie. 

tbh she is the most relaxed, most laid back, most chill of the chill people you will ever meet. dahlia has basically been travelling ever since she finished high school, never really feeling like australia was the place she was supposed to be even though she’ll never call anywhere else home. she’s always had this sense of adventure--kind of made her the most problematic child in the entire world because she’d always go wandering off. dahlia picked up photography when she was about twelve or thirteen, and when she decided to leave home, it seemed like the best thing to do. she’s very used to roughing it on her travels, camping frequently unless she knows someone or meets someone willing to put her up wherever she is. heterosexual, heteroromantic.

isa laghari. 30. ceo. new york city. priyanka chopra.

honestly the most ruthless and heartless human being ever. she just cares about getting the job done, rarely has a personal life other than the occasional active efforts to get some sex in to blow off some steam. she honestly spends more time shopping and going to couture shows than she does having genuine human interaction tbh. also an avid workaholic, and don’t expect her to apologize for it. i mean she HAS a heart but good luck finding it y’all. heterosexual, heteroromantic.

valentia benitez. 18. college freshmen. washington d.c. madison beer.

okay so her dad was previously the head of the fbi and as well as an analyst for the cia, and now he serves as secretary of state. she was born in new york while her feather was at the fbi there, but has lived in washington since she was about seven or eight years old. val is very much a little preppy baby, and she’s a-ok with that. she lives of ralph lauren and tommy hilfiger, and spending summers up at the hamptons and out on yachts. but my little angel is studying sociology and political science because, while she’ll never admit it, there’s a lot about how her father conducts himself and his politics that she doesn’t agree with. she’s very used to being the perfect daughter, daddy’s little princess, that she’s still very very far from finding out who the hell she is all on her own. bisexual, heteroromantic. 

rylee agrona. 26. underground boxer, fitness trainer, bartender, single mother. new york city. elizabeth olsen.

so she’s my tough lil cookie, she literally will kick yo damn ass if you even look at her the wrong way so #havefun. literally takes no shit from no one; has no tolerance for men who don’t have their shit together or can’t handle her. her daughter is three years old, basically had her with some guy that basically didn’t have his shit together or was able to handle her, so... she’s not even sure where he is now. but rylee literally kicks ass on the weekends to make money to spoil her daughter and everything. she’s always been the tomboy??? type and honestly the thing she gets the most amusement from is guys hitting on her at the bar she’s working and basically like throwing them out herself #suchfun. bisexual, biromantic.

javier vargas. 35. physical therapist. chicago. oscar isaac.

my lil dad bean he’S MY ONLY??? DAD muse oh my ok so he’s got two kids (his eldest is his daughter who is about seven or eight, and his son is around four)--his marital status is verse dependent, so like yea those kids can be your female’s or whatever, just let me know what’s happening, but his kids are non-negotiable. his kids are his whole world. he works as a physical therapist so he’s like pretty well off for money. even before his kids, javi has always been the type that tries to take care of those close to him. he’s like the reliable friend. but do not??? take him for a pushover, this bitch gets pissy when shit not looking up tbh. he sounds cliche i’m sorry pls love him. heterosexual, heteroromantic.

rhett cohen. 33. pediatric surgeon. denver. taylor kinney. 

ok precious bean he’s so good with kids, he’s such a lil smarty pants, so he became a pediatric surgeon. he can be a bit??? of a hardass, he’s very good at remaining professional when he needs to be, but he’s also the cutest lil softy with the biggest heart. he actually comes from new york where he grew up among the bratty upper east side, and after his little sister died, it kind of drove him to do what he can to save??? lives. he moved away from his gross ass robotic parents to denver, and he always spends christmas over in other parts of the world doing charity work because he’s?? i don’t wanna call him the do-good type but he’s very much in line with the idea that he should use his many privileges to do more than just spend too much money on houses and clothes and penthouses and stupid decor. heterosexual, heteroromantic.

paxton miller. 21. MIT student, part time software designer. boston. jack gilinsky.

y’all he’s my lil itty bitty nerd. he’s literally glued to his computer all day long. he’s been into computer since he was about nine, could build one on his own easily, and is intending to work in engineering on a much more....space-related level. he’s my precious babe that knows way too much about all things science, HATES geology (don’t ask) and ya. he’s not overly experienced in the world of romance, but my lil babe loves hanging out with his friends so pls don’t mistake him from one of the incompetent geeks of the big bang theory thnks. bisexual, biromantic.