#clinging to a phone that should have retired 5 years ago about to get it it’s second replacment heart

[comixandco]

currently experiencing a very first world problem 😔

[jinniesxlamp]

The Tables Have Turned - Chapter 4

LIST OF CHAPTERS --> Masterlist

Scenes of last night repeatedly flashed at the back of your mind. All of Jin’s words echoing like a haunting soul. 

“Y/N?” A gentle voice snapped you back to reality.

Y/N’s POV

Mina, Hitman Bang’s secretary greeted me with a warm smile as she held the door open, gesturing for me to enter. I let out a deep breath, somewhat nervous about this meeting. 

Upon entering, my eyes caught sight of a gentle man--sitting peacefully and smiling towards me. His hands rested together in a clasp, stretching towards the center of his table.

“How have you been my dear?”

I could feel my insides melting, wanting to tell him how I truly felt. That I was drowning, that my mind was a mess. I wanted to tell him about last night, no, about every night. About every lonely night I had with Jin. Every moment I lost my breath when he looked at her with every emotion while I stood alone in the corner, silently asking him to come to me instead.

“Good. I’ve been great” lying has become easier every time I had to face him. 

“How have you been, Samchon?”

Since living with the Bangs years ago, he insisted I call him uncle.

“Oh you know, same old. Meetings and errr--more meetings. I’m flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. Did you want to come?” his questions were always so innocent that I would sometimes have to think of how to respond to them. An awkward chuckle escaped my lips, waving my hand at him.

“I was hoping you would come. But anyway, what brings you to my office this early my dear?”

You cleared your throat gently before speaking.

“Actually...I was wondering if you could help me find a job”

To your surprise, instead of bombarding you with questions, his only response was an even softer smile.

Jin’s POV

It wasn’t the harsh rays of sunlight, or the loud beeps of the alarm but the suffocating feeling of the sheets covering my face that woke me up. Allowing my eyes to open slowly, events from the previous night replaced the beaming sun immediately.

I looked down to see what was preventing me from breathing--the entire comforter wrapped around me. Why do I feel so cold when I’m wrapped around this....thing? The picture of you sleeping cozily with most of the blanket on your side crept through my thoughts. Unconsciously turning to look at what used to be your side of the bed, I sighed. Am I supposed to start getting used to this?

Like the bedroom, the rest of the house wasn’t just empty, it was cold. Making my way to the kitchen, my eyes laid on the table. Breakfast was ready. Instead of sitting down to eat, you were stopped at the sight of newly washed dishes being set out to dry by the sink. She already ate without me. For the first time.

Y/N’s POV

A heavy sigh escaped my soft, pinkish lips again. Not out of despair--but out of fulfillment this time. 

This is it, you thought to yourself. You were ready to start a new chapter in your life after Jin came into the picture. Since you got married you became a housewife. That didn’t sound quite right. A housekeeper? You didn’t know what you were, after all, you were nothing to him. Just some woman who slept on the same bed as him, cooked for him, wiped his sweat backstage after those live performances. His words echoed inside your head again. Things were going to change. And it was going to start today.

“Whatever you want, Jin. Ask and I’ll give it to you” you muttered to yourself as you slid off your wedding ring off your finger almost unwillingly.

For a few minutes you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment then shrugging it off completely. It was going to be a busy day for you. At exactly 8:00 am today you arranged a meeting with Hitman Bang, asking for his permission to work which he gladly allowed. But for ethical matters, he couldn’t hire you in his own company and you knew that. However, he did manage to pull some strings. One phone call was all it took and you were hired.

You were going to the JYP building for orientation today since you insisted you start as soon as possible. 

“Company Nurse. Here goes nothing, Y/N.” you muttered, exiting the Big Hit building.

Jin’s POV

Days went by awfully slow no matter how busy my schedule got. Locking my car, I slowly made my way inside the house, switching the lights on to get rid of the darkness. Just like the past five days, silence was the only thing that greeted me. No more annoying woman running from the kitchen, forcing a kiss on my lips which I always declined. The last time those soft lips landed on mine almost three weeks ago--it was late in the evening, close to midnight. I just got home from having secret drinks with Irene, a small figure sat on the couch waiting for me, watching what looked like a drama series. Her eyes lit up despite the darkness, sliding the blanket off her shoulder revealing her silky night gown. She ran towards me, attacking my lips. The sweetness she brought upon me overlapped the bitterness from the alcohol, which I’m sure she tasted. She attempted to plaster another kiss but I pulled away. Without second thoughts. Without hesitation.

Should I have known.

Just like last night, and the night before that dinner was ready on the table. I ate alone, cleaning up, taking a shower and retired to bed, alone.

The next day was just....hectic.

Practice started extra early. In fact, too early that Yoongi looked like a zombie swaying dangerously while walking. Even the staff were still evidently drowsy. But Kim Seokjin was definitely on another level--his under eyes had gotten darker. It was almost as if he wasn’t getting enough sleep. 

Truthfully, that was what was happening. He was having a hard time sleeping and that didn’t help him focus at all.

“Mianhae, Hobi” 

Jhope looked at his hyung with concern, beads of sweat dripping on the floor from his own body while he tried to catch his breath. They have been stuck in one frame of the dance for almost an hour now. It wasn’t that Jin couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t....there. Everyone seemed to have noticed it too. Jin’s mind was wandering off somewhere else.

“Gwenchana, hyung. Let’s take a break and join everyone for lunch” he patted his back lightly.

Lunch was just what they needed. They got to relax for an hour and talk. Jin started to loosen up, telling almost hundreds of his Dad jokes again sending laughter and exchanging insults all over the place. Their laughs started to fade, giving them a chance to breathe and see each other clearly

“Mianhaeyo hyung. I shouldn’t have been rude to you a few nights ago.” stated Jungkook with pure sincerity, holding onto Jin’s left shoulder.

“Gwenchana” he replied, forcing a smile. 

“H-how is Noona doing?” Jimin asked, debating whether he should or not.

Jin looked at all of them eye to eye, not knowing how to express his feelings.

“I--uhm...we barely see each other at home” he started pushing aside his food with the chopsticks, looking elsewhere but any of the boys as he tried to tell them more.

“She sleeps in a separate room now” the boys were quiet, giving Jin their full attention and sympathy.

“I leave really early and come home late” awkward silence filled the atmosphere. No one knew what to say.

They finished eating rather quickly, leaving them a good 30 minutes to rest. Jin wanted to start practicing again but Jhope told him to rest a bit. He found himself staring at his phone’s empty screen. It usually flooded with your messages by now. “Good morning, my love” “You’re doing a great job, Jin. Don’t forget to take a break” “I’m bringing lunch today, baby” 

Now, the only conversation the both of you shared were meaningless verbatim like “May I come in?” When she entered your room to grab something. It annoyed you to the bones. Why would she ask permission? This is her room too. Or “Have you eaten?” Every time you hoped she would join you for dinner like before.

Thinking about it now, I still haven’t apologized for what had happened. I couldn’t bring myself to. Pondering over the last few days, I barely saw her. It wasn’t that I missed her, was it? I’ve ignored her this long, it shouldn’t be bothering me that she doesn’t appear as often right in front of me.

“Finally! What took you so long?” Seo Yun, one of the senior stylists sent everyone staring at their direction as she grabbed one of the luggage from Ji Yoo, another senior stylist.

“Ya, they wouldn’t let me in. I forgot to bring my ID and they wouldn’t believe me when I said I was sent by Mr. Bang” her hands rested on her hip, defending herself from Seo Yun.

“You know how strict JYP is, why didn’t you bring an ID in the first place?!” 

“Hajimaaaa” Taehyung, out of nowhere, stood in between them, acting cute to stop their argument. The two ladies ended up laughing at how immature these boys are.

“How did you manage to get in without an ID?” Asked Seo Yun

“Oh, about that. I was lucky enough to run into Y/N! She talked the guards into letting me in and getting these”

The mention of your name attracted everyone’s attention--especially Jin’s.

“Mwo?” He asked again, wondering if he heard her right. 

“You didn’t tell us she works at JYP Jinna” Ji Yoo’s eyes blinked naively at the sight of confused faces in front of her. Even Taehyung who was still clinging onto her peeked to see her face.

“She’s their new company nurse. Didn’t she tell you?”

--

It all made sense. Breakfast being ready at such an early hour. The sound of running water at 5 in the morning, which he thought he was hallucinating. A full fridge and pantry, without you going out to buy groceries. The dryer roaring almost every night. Electricity, water and phones bills paid, thinking you just forgot that YOU already paid. It was her all along. She was working. Buying groceries, paying bills. That was Y/N. 

Jin’s POV

My grip tightened around the steering wheel as I drove myself home. Why would she work? Am I not providing enough for her? I pushed on the accelerator harder sending my car faster than I usually ran, but staying on a safe speed. The red traffic light ahead motioned me to slow down until a complete stop. What was I so mad about? I startled myself at the sight of my hands, they were red--marked with the creases of the last thing I held. 

The truth is, I didn’t know which was more frustrating. The fact that she didn’t think about telling me or that she was working in THAT company.

What is going on with you lately, Seokjin 

[curious-fools-howl-to-the-moon]

CHAPTER 1.

I’m posting a chapter to my story and not immediately deleting it???? Don’t worry, there’s still time!! Lol

This is the beginning of my fic, so it does move slowly and it’s pretty long! But if you decide to read it, I hope you like it!!

                                        -BRIDGTON, OHIO. 2011-

"Hey Delilah, ready for the lunch rush?" her boss Pam asked with her usual unimpressed tone and a raised brow. Pam was the owner of the diner and always made sure Delilah knew it when she got in one of her random moods, which never had a consistent pattern. 

She was a redhead, which Delilah thought was rather fitting given their typical stereotype. Hot-headed, unpredictable and at times she even wondered if the soulless trait was true. She always wore her hair up in a bun with a pen in it, like she was dropped in straight from the 60's or something. She could be a real piece of work when she wanted to be, but Delilah couldn't really complain, or at least not to her face anyway. She literally took her in off the streets and gave her a job when she had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Am I ever ready for the lunch rush?" Delilah replied with a sigh as she wiped off crumbs from the bar counter with a rag and swept them into the floor. She hated this time of day, it was always so busy. People were hungry and when people were hungry, they got rude. Sometimes even downright just hateful. The names she's been called working in this place might floor some outsiders, but it was a typical every day for her.

The bell above the front door chimed as voices of teenagers entered the building. Delilah's spirits lifted a little, the teens were usually always nicer than the older customers. She grabbed the pen and paper from her apron and waited for them to be seated before walking over to them. She noticed one of them, Jerome Robinson. He was a regular here and she basically had his order memorized no matter what time he came in. The other three people that sat with him she didn't recognize. "Hey, Jerome." she tried to muster a smile but it came out like a smirk, as per usual. "Same as always?" she asked.

He nodded. Jerome was younger than Delilah, probably by 8 or 9 years. He was darker complected and pretty damn adorable. When Delilah first started working here he would hit on her a lot, almost every time he came in. He'd lean his arms on the counter and ask how her day was going and she couldn't help but to laugh at him. It was pretty obvious he had a crush, but after she told him she was 27, the flirting magically eased up. That is, unless he wanted to try to get a free meal or drink for his friends and sometimes she would amuse him by bringing him a soda on the house.

"The usual for me, and some fries for my friends please." he grinned to her and she scribbled it down onto her notepad. Jerome looked to his friends, muttering something that received a few nods and whispers back before he turned to face Delilah again. "And 5 sodas too, if you don't mind." he added. He was always so polite, something that Delilah admired. She could be pretty snappy with people, and sometimes it wasn't all their fault but most of the time it was.

"Coming right up." she said with a nod as she turned away from them and started towards the counter. Those three words have become a reflex to say, like saying 'excuse me' when walking through a group of people or 'bless you' when someone sneezes. It was annoying to her but it was the only thing she could think of to say to a customer that couldn't be met with a snarky or sleazy remark.

"Jerome's order and a large fry." Delilah said as she slid the paper through the small window between the kitchen and the counter. "I'll get the sodas if you'll cook." she paused, "Please?" she heard Pam mumble a 'ok' like reply and that was good enough for her. She hated cooking but especially in a place that served meat. It made her sick to her stomach. Most of the time Pam would just tell her to get over herself and do her job, but there were other times, like today, where she wouldn't have the energy to argue with her.

Delilah grabbed five glasses from counter and lined them up. "Ice." she mumbled to herself before walking in the back to grab the bag of it from the freezer. It was heavy but more cold than anything else, her hands started to feel numb as she carried it through the room and back to the front. "So, what's been going on with you guys lately?" she asked in a grunt as she placed the bag onto the counter.

Jerome was quiet for a  few moments and for a second Delilah thought he hadn't heard her. But then he bounced back as if nothing were wrong at all, "Not much of anything, really." he said casually and shrugged. She didn't think too much of his pause, she was too focused on trying not to spill ice all over the floor.

"Still mowing lawns?" she asked as the ice clanged against the sides of the glass cups.

"Yeah." he answered a bit shameful, "Like I've said, it's just a Summer job. I'll be leaving for Harvard by the end of it anyway, it's just to keep my pockets full for a while." he smirked and nodded, Delilah did the same as she sat the bag of ice right side up. It was nearly empty now so she placed it in the nearby sink. Jerome spoke again, "Should stop cutting Mr.Hodges lawn though, he's barely paying me worth my time."

She grabbed the liter of soda and began filling the cups, "Who?" she asked, her brows furrowing. Bridgton was a small town, everyone pretty much knew everyone. Maybe not by name, but definitely by faces. Even so, she had never even heard of a 'Hodges' before.

"Bill Hodges." Jerome answered matter-of-fact as he rested his arm on the back of his chair. "He use to be a detective down at the station." he shrugged, "He's retired now though, has been for a couple years." Now he looks confused, "You haven't heard of him?"

Delilah shakes her head, "I haven't. I don't really keep track of the uh...law enforcement around here." she mutters as she straightens herself up and finishes pouring the drinks. She glances to Jerome and his friends to see that a few of them are now wearing worried expressions. She can't help but to laugh, "Relax, I'm not a criminal." she says and their shoulders fall a little. "Not after I got my reports sponged anyway..." she mutters with a smirk and their eyes grow wide.

"She's joking guys." Jerome says with a smirk as he tries to reassure his friends. It's barely working and he looks back to Delilah, "Tell them you're joking." He says with a smirk, but she doesn't. Instead she just shrugs her shoulders and leaves them with an uneasy feeling. Trying to hold in laughter, she places the drinks on a tray and brings them to the table.

"Here ya go." she says as she places them in front of the teens. "Your food should be out soon." she says and turns away from them to walk back to the counter. Within seconds the five friends began conversing, filling the entire diner with their voices. 

Delilah leaned against the counter and took out her phone, checking her text messages. She had one, which was surprising considering she didn't have any friends, or parents as far as she was concerned. If your Dad ditches you before you were even born and your Mom leaves you on the steps of an orphanage like in some old black and white film, they're not very good parents, are they? Pam was the closest thing she had to any kind of parental figure, and she almost found her too late.

Pam found Delilah at around the age of 19. She was into smoking and even dabbled in drinking from time to time, despite being under-aged. She was living on the streets and whatever she was wearing is what she found in the dumpster or if someone was nice enough to give it to her. Which most of the time, they weren't. Pam felt sorry for her and took her in to work at the diner part time. Part time turned into full time and that led in to her basically living here for almost 8 years. Delilah was thankful but always had an odd way of showing it. Sly remarks and sarcasm were usually the way to go for her. But being raised by the streets of Ohio will do that to you. She knew she wasn't exactly normal, but she tried her best for those who she thought deserved it.

She didn't really like to reflect on her old life, before she started working here. It brought up too many memories, way more bad than good. She just liked to focus on the now, work towards the future instead of feeling sorry for herself in the past. But sometimes those memories would creep up on her, right when she was least expecting it. And when that happened, she dealt with it. Usually with drinking, a habit she's been trying to break for basically her entire life. She's been better at dealing with it, she'll admit. It's definitely better than it was 9 years ago.

She opens the text to see it's from Heather, a girl she barely knew who came into the diner a few months back. She was new to Bridgton and was looking for anyone to cling onto for a type of security, or at least that's what Delilah assumed. She was as nice as the typical stranger and when her food was served to her she insisted on getting Delilah's number. So they could 'text and hang out' sometime, which occasionally happened. With Delilah's work schedule it made having things like a social life pretty difficult. She mostly heard from Heather when there was new town gossip or if she wanted her opinion on the guys she was dating. Delilah's brown eyes scan over the letters in the small green bubble in the left side of her screen.

'Have you heard of Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella?' Was all it said. She checked the time to see it was sent just a few minutes ago. Her brows furrowed as she texted back, saying she had never heard of it and asked what exactly it was about. Within 30 seconds there was a reply.

'It's basically just a new type of chat room. It's not like FB or anything like that, so I thought you might like it. All they'll see is your username, no pictures. I'll make one too, so we can keep in touch besides texting.' she wrote. Delilah's lips pursed at the message. She always liked the idea of chat rooms. Nothing too personal, but still a way to communicate with people from around the world. Her fingers found her keyboard as she wrote back.

'That's cool. I'll check it out after work. Thanks for letting me know.' she wrote and then she hit the send button. Pam had been nice enough to buy her a cellphone when she first started to work here. Mostly to only use in emergencies, but that rule didn't last long. Before she knew it Delilah was texting as fast as any teen, despite being a  little late to the party. Seconds later her phone buzzed, another message. She opened it to see it was Heather, again.

'Gross, you're still working there? We gotta get you someplace better. Upgrade in your future. TTYL.' Delilah smirked to herself and shook her head, not even bothering to reply to the text. Instead she just pushed her phone back into her pocket. She was fine where she was, or rather, she knew this was as good as she was gonna get so she was fine where she was.

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It was finally closing time. They had been so busy that Delilah thought the day would never be over. It seemed like just as she started to put a plate away, someone was already asking for their order to be taken. The last customer left close to 5 minutes ago and now she was cleaning off the last booth, well 'cleaning', she was really just sweeping crumbs into the floor. She leaned up and felt the muscles in her back and arms tense, she got a decent work out today. She walked to the counter and tossed the rag into the sink. "Ok, Pam." she said, clearly tired from the day. "Tables are clean and I'm heading out."

Pam's displeased voice came from the kitchen, "Give me about 15 more minutes and I'll drive you there." she said. Pam was her neighbor and it wasn't just convenient, she made Delilah buy the house nearest to hers as a way to keep an eye on her. Delilah knew she meant well, but she could be a bit overprotective at times for a woman who doesn't even have a real daughter.

"That's ok." She replied, "I'm just gonna start home now instead." She appreciated the offer, but she didn't wanna sit here for 15 more minutes with angry Pam and then have to take a car ride with her. She'd take her chances with Ohio's weirdos of the night.

"Suit yourself. Have a good one." she said, sounding a little less angry but a little bit disappointed that Delilah had rejected her offer. She knew she was just looking out for her, but she was 27 years old and there were most things she could do on her own now.

"Night, Pam!" she called out as she pushed open the doors and walked out onto the streets, hearing the bell ring above her head for the last time tonight.

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She was already a few blocks from the diner now and the night had been surprisingly quiet aside from the occasional car that passed by. That was something she wished she had, a car. Even if it was some run down old model, so long as it ran and got her from point A to B, that's all she would ask of it. It would sure beat walking home at night and definitely beat taking a ride with Pam. She sighed to herself, she probably would have had enough money saved up by now to buy her car had she not been so Hell bent on getting her own house. Every check she gets goes directly to paying it off, which meant giving basically her entire check to Pam, who was the one who bought her the house in the first place. But she'd take privacy over walking home any day.

A slight breeze blew through the air and she breathed it in. She had missed the Fall and Winter, it seemed like it went by so fast and now it was Summer. Her most hated season. She looked up to the sky as she walked, "Can you make it a little colder?" she asked the air, "Just so I can breathe comfortably during my work shifts?" she scoffed and turned her attention back in front of her. Seconds later she heard a rumble of thunder and almost instantly, it started to rain. 

No, it started to pour.

Delilah quickly pulled her hood from her jacket over her head as she started sprinting towards a nearby awning. "This is not what I fucking meant!" she yelled to no one but couldn't even hear herself over the pit and pats of the rain. She approached the awning and stood underneath it, her hood still sitting on top of her head. 

She looked ahead of herself to see everything being drenched in rain, including other unlucky people who were trying to run to some type of shelter. She glanced beside her to see someone else who had just barely escaped the downpour, he was on his phone. Lucky guy, must be waiting for a ride. She looked back down the street to her left, she wasn't too far from home now, maybe just 5 minutes if she really booked it. She pursed her lips as she tossed the options around in her head. "Fuck it." she said as she started to run when a hand grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks.

She whipped around to look and noticed it was the guy who was on his phone, or at least pretending to be.  She squinted at the stranger but it was way too dark to make out any features. The only thing she could tell was that it was a man, a huge man. He wore a hood over his head, which helped cover any hair he might have had. He spoke and his voice was deep and threatening. "Where are you off to?" he asked.

"None of your business." she said as she attempted to snatch her arm out of his grip, but to no avail. "Get your fucking hands off of me!" she yelled, but was mostly muted due to the rain. His hand tightened around her arm, his fingers digging into her sleeve.

"A pretty girl like you don't need to be out here by yourself." he said as he stepped closer to her and his other hand landed on her other arm. He leaned his face near hers, she could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath. "Let me take you home..." She felt sick, nauseous. She had heard of this kind of thing happening before but never thought it would happen to her. He had her restricted, pinned. It was now or never, her heart was racing and her body was shaking with fear. She had to try something, anything. It was fight or flight. And she was in fight, completely.

She slammed her head forward with as much force as she could muster, sending the predator stumbling backwards. He muttered something under his breath she couldn't quite make out but had a feeling she knew what it was. She swung her leg back and then forward again, the steel toe of her boot making full contact with his groin. He fell onto the ground, holding his privates and she turned around and ran. Her heart still raced in her chest as she pushed down the vomit she felt creeping up in her throat. The rained poured down heavy on her and she didn't even stop to look back herself.

She didn't stop running, even when she was sure he wasn't even remotely close to being behind her anymore. She couldn't stop, her legs wouldn't let her. She approached the door to her house and stopped long enough to clumsily fish her keys out her pocket and open it, running inside and slamming the door closed behind herself. 

Her breathing was rapid, her chest rising and falling faster than it ever had before. She turned around and attempted to lock her door, her fingers trembling as they fiddled with the locks. After a few seconds she finally managed it and tried to breath out a sigh of relief but it was caught by the vomit she pushed down earlier. She stumbled to her kitchen and barely made it to the sink before she threw up, her whole body tense and curling inside itself as she did so.

She reached blindly to her left and grabbed a towel to wipe her mouth as she leaned away from the sink. She breathed out and ran her hand over her forehead up to the top of her head. "Fuck." she muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She breathed out again, "Calm down, Lilah. You're good." she tried to convince herself. "You did it, you got away, you're ok." she swallowed and felt another lump but pushed this one down. As much as she kept telling herself she was ok, it was hard to shake the feeling of it all.

She made her way over to her couch and sat down on it, trying to catch her breath. Her legs felt like jello as they basically gave out the second she sat down. A million thoughts ran through her head, what if she hadn't had the strength to fight back? What if he had a gun? Or a knife? What if he just shot her there and kidnapped her? No one would've known where she went or where to look. She leaned her head back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. "I should've just waited." she said to herself, feeling the rain drops slide down her face. She breathed out again, this breath much more stronger than the rest.

"Fuck."

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She had been home for more than a couple of hours now and once she finally managed to lift herself from the couch, she grabbed dinner. A microwave mac and cheese meal that she scarfed down, whether her body wanted to let her or not. She knew she had to eat and she didn't have the energy to make anything. She threw what was left in the trash and headed over to her fridge. She opened it and looked inside, seeing a bag of water bottles which was obviously the best choice right now but then her eyes landed on the last 6 bottles of beer she had stuffed in the back. She told herself once she was finished with those, she was done with it completely. She saved them, for special occasions or nights when she just really needed them. Tonight was one of those nights. Definitely.

She collapsed on her couch again, her laptop opened in front of her. Her 2 beers sat straight up on the coffee table, one was empty and the other was getting there. She had a video opened, 'funniest fails' compilation she saw on the homepage. She had her head rested on the couch pillow as she watched it. She wanted to make herself laugh at least once tonight, try to bring some calmness back to her body. If that meant getting shitfaced and watching people fall on their faces, so be it. She took another swig of her beer when her phone rang in her pocket. She sat the drink down and paused the video as she fished it out of her pocket. She looked to the screen and sighed, it was Heather. She answered and held the phone to her ear.

"What?"

"Well, hey to you too. Where are you?"

"Home, where the fuck else?"

"Um, maybe Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella ring any bells?"

She didn't sound upset; not at all, she was just teasing. Something that Delilah wasn't sure she was in the mood for right now, but she didn't bother snapping. "Oh, yeah. I..I totally forgot about that. Tonight's been kinda crazy." she said, hoping the vagueness would deter her, but of course it didn't. It was Heather.

"A crazy night? YOU? What happened, did you blow up a microwave dinner?" she laughed and Delilah rolled her eyes despite being on the phone.

"No, just...crazy shit." she said as she hit the speaker option on her phone and sat it on the couch, "I'll go to the website now...Debbie's umbrella?" she said as she closed her video tab and opened another, typing it in as she spoke.

"Under Debbie's Blue Umbrella, Lilah." she emphasized every word. "You're not already _that_ drunk are you?" she said, sounding a bit concerned.

"No. It's just a fucking long name." she said as she typed it in, correctly this time. "Ok, I'm here. I'll make my account and call you back."

"You better. I miss chatting with you, you never go to Facebook anymore." she sounded like she was pouting and Delilah couldn't help but to scoff.

"Yeah, yeah. Cya."

"Later."

She hit the end call button and turned her attention back to her screen. There were two people standing under a blue umbrella on the homepage, all huddle together like a couple. All while rain drops slid down the screen at an lagging pace. She clicked on the 'register now' button.

"Name and password...." she said aloud to herself as her eyes scanned over it. "Hmm....." she picked up her phone to look up names but noticed her reflection before anything else. The rain had taken a huge toll on her makeup. Her eyeliner was smudged and her mascara was smeared, she was thankful to herself that she didn't wear lipstick today. She stopped herself and furrowed her brows for a moment. Then she tossed her phone back onto the couch beside her and clicked on, 'name/password:'. Her fingers glided across the keyboard as her new name appeared before her eyes.

[SMEARED_MASCARA]

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[redsdesktop]

Namelessshipping: What If...

Chapter 5

Pairings: Red x Green Oak

Warnings: None

AU: Canon Divergence

It had been a few weeks since Red had offered Green to visit for dinner and there had been no sign of him, he should've known but he couldn't help but to have some sort of hope he'd see his old friend again. At home, it was quiet without Eevee running around with his Pikachu, even his best friend seemed down and put out from missing Eevee. There was nothing either one of them could do about it but move on like they always did, luckily Red had his work to keep him distracted. His current study was the evolution of Pokemon, not through gaining experience from life type of evolution, but how Pokemon evolved into separate species entirely to adapt to their new surroundings or change in weather. He was currently tending to a deerling, one of the small examples of evolution depending on the seasons themselves. With the autumn weather, the deerling’s fur was a soft orange color. The deerling belonged to one of the trainers who simply sought out to fill their pokedex, leaving the deerling in the PC since he wasn't slotted in their trainer's team.

He was in the process of giving the deerling a treat when Professor Oak walked up, he was getting older and older to the point Red worried about him sometimes. The man was too stubborn to retire though and live the rest of his life in relaxation, however, he couldn't travel like he used to, such drastic changes in weather effected him too harshly so he had to stay in Kanto. If he was required elsewhere, he'd send one of the assistants out, since Red didn't really like leaving Pallet Town anymore. "Ah, Red, I see you're doing well in your studies!" Red gave a nod and stood up after ruffling the deerling's head with a bit of affection. Professor Oak was always kind to him, but he still hadn't got over how the man had treated Green, but it wasn't any of his business.

"I need you to do me a favor, Red. I know its asking a lot from you, but you're the only assistant I have who is knowledgeable on the matter of Pokemon evolution due to habitat change. My cousin studies the Kanto Pokemon living in Alola, but he needs a fresh set of eyes to help his research and I want you to go and help him."

Red frowned a little, dusting his hands on his white lab coat, his brows furrowing a little. He had heard of Alola, the fact that the Kanto Pokemon were there was strange enough, but to know that they vastly differed from the ones from their home region was curious. Red had to admit he was interested but Alola was quite a distance away, the distance was far too long for his charizard to travel safely across, he already calculated that. Not that he had any intentions on going there, it was a new place, a tourist trap which meant crowds of people. Red didn't do well with crowds or cramped up spaces, Oak knew that, so he must be pretty desperate to ask Red of all people. Red sighed and rubbed at his cheek, he couldn't tell Professor Oak no.

"I already bought your ticket, you leave tomorrow so I'll let you have the rest of the day off to pack your things." Oak said cheerfully, much to Red's dismay. He didn't even have a choice apparently, the old man knew Red wouldn't say no it seemed. His Pikachu came running up, climbing up to settle on his shoulder, having overheard the conversation and seemed excited about it. To see Pikachu ready for adventure made Red feel a bit bad, all these years he kept Pikachu here in Pallet Town with him while his friend lived for exploring and excitement. Well, he'd get his fill now it seemed, Red wished he could share Pikachu's enthusiasm.

---------------

The trip had been a nightmare for both Red and Pikachu, Red was cramped in an airplane surrounded by strangers, it was oppressive and he had never been in an airplane before. He should've taken those anxiety pills Daisy had offered him, but Red stubbornly refused to take medication, he'd been that way since childhood. He had gripped the armrest during the entire trip, he was surprised to find out that he hadn't put a dent in it from how hard he held onto it. Pikachu didn't have it better off either, he had to remain in his pokeball the entire trip, making Red feel guilty but Pikachu refused to stay at the Lab and made the decision himself. He was glad that Pikachu would go through his own fears for him, he'd definitely would have to make it up to his little friend once they got out of this hectic airport.

Everything was bright and colorful here as he let pikachu out once they escaped the building, not to mention the weather was noticeably hotter than Kanto's. He felt uncomfortable in his jeans already but he refused to wear shorts, he wasn't comfortable exposing a lot of his skin, preferring his loose fitting jeans and t-shirt. He looked around, a little lost as what he was supposed to do, Pikachu wasn't any help as he was busy looking around, trying to take in as much as he could. He pulled out his cellphone to check his messages, Professor Oak had programmed his cousin's number into his phone, but Red would be staying at the Hano Grand Resort. Sounded too fancy for Red's liking but he wasn't paying for this trip so he couldn't complain, from the looks of things, he doubted he could afford any of these hotels.

Using the GPS on his phone, he entered the resort's address and began his walk there, he didn't like cars, they were too cramped and he had no control over a taxi. Plus, walking would allow him to relax and work out his stiff muscles after a stressful plane ride.Pikachu was busy exclaiming over everything, pointing out various things they hadn't seen in Kanto or he was waving at excited children in their beach wear. Red chose to ignore them, trying his best not to let his anxieties get the best of him but his stoic, near expressionless face tended to scare the kids off, despite it not being his intention. He was always like that, the young trainers avoiding him, he was the silent, intimidating assistant who stayed off by himself. He liked kids, but he was terrible in dealing with them, especially the loud, excitable ones.

After what seemed like forever, he made it to the hotel, the place didn't lie in its name as it was in fact Grand. It made Red feel a little overwhelmed in his faded jeans, old shirt, and worn sneakers, but he had reservations he hadn't paid for. Sighing, he made his way through the front door, the people in the lobby were dressed nicely, a few looked at him strangely but avoided him as he rolled his suitcase after him to the front desk. The receptionist smiled politely, but he could see she looked doubtful due to how ragged he looked. "Hi, welcome to Hano Grand Resort, how may I assist you today?" Red had to give it to her, she remained professional, despite how he knew how uncomfortable she was by having what looked like a bum at her desk. He set his phone on the desk, the screen revealing the receipt and QR code of his reservations. She scanned it, but looked unsure enough that she picked up the phone.

"Professor Oak? Yes, we have someone here with reservations made by you. Yes. Correct. Thank you and have a good day." Red stared as he waited for the woman to be done with the confirmation call, at least their security was tight. The girl behind the desk began to tap away at the computer screen before retrieving a keycard and handing it to Red. "You're room is on the third floor, room 305. You have three complimentary meals a day, all you have to do is text the number on the back of the menu in your room what you want and it will be delivered to your door. Thank you for staying at Hano Grand Resort and enjoy your time here."

Red nodded and tucked the card into his wallet, putting both the wallet and his phone in their designated pockets. He turned around to head towards the elevators when he spotted someone walking through the doors of the Resort. He stopped despite not intending to, it was none other than Green making his way towards the front desk. When his old friend spotted him in turn, amber eyes widened and he nearly stumbled over his own feet. Luckily, the girl at his side was holding on to his arm, allowing him to regain his step. The surprise was quickly covered over by an arrogant grin, one Red recognized all too well. Unlike the dinner a few weeks ago, when Green was relaxed and open, they were in public this time. Which meant Green had to impress, especially when he had a girl with him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Kanto loser? Are you lost? Only the rich and famous get to stay here." Green taunted but Red seemed unconcerned by what others would view as bullying. Red knew this was just Green's way of keeping attention on himself, being cocky and confident. In reality, Red knew Green meant only to ask what Red was doing here, still though it didn't mean Red wanted to suffer Green's antics any longer. He just wanted Green to be, well, Green. But it seemed he still hadn't grown out of his state where he lacked confidence in being himself, afraid people would ignore him, leave him. Red had left Green, but for different reasons, that didn't make Red feel any better about it.

Pikachu growled, his red cheeks sparking in warning, a flash of concern crossed Green's face but he stamped it down before anyone other than Red noticed. Red released his suitcase to sign at Green, making the woman who had been laughing lightly at Green's statement, confused.

'Here on research business.'

Red stated shortly before grabbing his suitcase again, finally looking over at the woman who was with Green. He couldn't help but to feel something at the sight of her holding onto Green's arm like that. He didn't like the feeling because it was unjust, his mother taught him better than to be jealous over something. Still though, he hated seeing her cling to Green like that, she might be a really nice girl for all Red new. Maybe she made Green happier than Red could, so in turn, Red should be happy about the fact that Green had found someone to love and be loved in turn. He couldn't think about it any longer, he had enough work and stress on his plate as it was. He didn't need Green's presence distracting him, even though he knew it was already a lost cause since he knew Green was here.

"Typical nerd, I would say see you later, but a loser like you could never make it as far as the Battle Tree, only the strongest across the regions can get there and I happen to be the host. The only way you'd see me is if you turn on the TV like all the other washed up trainers."

Red raised his brows at the news, figuring by the way Green talked that this was like the Elite Four, but bigger? He was interested in seeing it, seeing all the strong trainers battle it out. He wouldn't mind seeing Green battle again in person, but he had to remember what he was here for. If he did make it to the Battle Tree, Green might get a little suspicious, after all, Red had lost horribly to Green. So he had to keep that up so Green could continue living his dream life. He reached up, adjusting the brim of his cap, falling into the act as if he'd been thoroughly embarrassed by Green's words before turning away to head towards the elevators.

So much for a stress-free vacation.

[janiklandre-blog]

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Sunny morning - 9:35 a.m. cold, 20.000 runners running in Central Park - in 1970 I would walk in the early afternoon around the reservoir - no one - once a possible rapist - he asked me for the time, then said I was not talking to him because his skin was darker than mine - I assured him my husband was waiting for me not far away, also that I was old - 38 at the time, he threw his arm around me, told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - at that very moment two cops came walking toward us, he split, they asked did I want to press charges - thank God there was not much to press charges about and where were they going to find him anyway - I never had been happier to see cops - and here once again the fire alarm is going off - luckily until now quite often - for little reason.

Walking around the reservoir in 1970 - I've always walked fast, never run, I was in the avant garde - now hordes run, walk around the reservoir - not longago I was still among them - I just ran into Felton who told me about a march at noon from Briant Park to Times Square - and added: You used to be at all demos. Used to be - used to, walk around the reservoir every day, in snow and ice, meeting up with the old Puerto Rican whom they called the Mayor of Central Park - he pointed to me and said: she is always here, in all weather. Used to. No more. He came at the end in a wheel chair, somebody pushing him, then he died and there was a long obit for him in the NYT.

Used to, used - a Czech word: bejvavalo - a brief song, repeating the word a few times and addiing dobre - meaning, it used to be, it used to to be, it used to be good. My song now.

The time change still throws things into disarray - I wake at 6:40 when a week ago it was still 5:40 and I had plenty of time to leave the house by 7 a.m. as I like to. Now I have to hurry to get out by 8:15. New England is planning to keep one time - hurrah for New England. This time change is so ridiculous - briefly we have standard time - then days are made longer - I am convinced only so that people can shop longer. All is geared to shopping. So annoying.

Let's still go to yesterday. Later as I was reading the nyt - all the horror the new president has been able to wreak in two months - and then truly worrisome: we must attack North Korea - I'm not alone with hair standing on end - and wishing I could still march - at least - march. Then suddenly I began to worry about what I had written earlier in this here blog - remembering Ken's warnings, quickly texted Molly not to post - even so, who knows into whose hands - eyes - it could fall - perhaps I should pause for at least a moment before going to Send Message - after reading now for years about all the trouble people get into - fills volumes by now. I worry about ending up being one of them in my urge for some acclaim - I too could end up with only shame. Happens to so many. I've always thought of myself as lacking in ambition - the right ambition? - well in the world according to Robert Goldscheider I am a total and sad failure - then again it could be a sort of ambition that is driving also my writing - and the Germsn word for ambition is: Ehrgeiz. An interesting word - Ehre is honor - Geiz is greed - so it's greedy for honor - not all that honorable. Lately a number of people have felt a little too free for my tastes to put into writing - email - all my most horrible qualities - jealousy foremost - again the German word is picturesque: Eifersucht - Eifer, I wish I had my dictionary at my hand - eifern is kind of to foam at the mouth - and Sucht - addiction? - anyway, awful - these are all Germanic words, a lot stronger than the latinate words used in English - also words are stronger to me in my native language - and in English I have been told I sometimes use unwittingly too strong words.

So ambition in English is the best quality to have - you can be over ambitious - but for the most part it is wonderful. Now jealousy - people pride themselves in their total lack, never ever have they been jeaulous, or envious - and I feel myself very wrongly labeled that way - and resent it - while I do admit to anger. Many times when people throw at me: you are jealous - I would say, I am angry and with good reason.

My earstwhile mother in law Tamina, called Minnie in America - very otten said, sticks and atones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me - perhaps she had a thick skin or never took anything personally, or perhaps nobody ever said anything mean to her - in any event - words in this world have hurt me, and do hert me, plenty - and I am aware of also having hurt others deeply with words and can only express my regret and highly appreciate those who have forgiven me. These days I also often think of words attributed to Jesus - forgive them, they don't know what they are doing. (I never quote quite correctly). I think Freud attributing many of our actions, also words, to our subconscious, said, if I am correct, something similar - forces act on us that often wreak havock on what we say or do. Well - I'm sure much has been written on this topic by writers and thinkers far superior to me - often men? - so, enough of my pontificating.

Anger, anger - it was also anger I was expressing in what I wrote yesterday - anger that I was not able to shape my life in the ways I wanted - one person once said: Marianne is only happy with 30 people around her - well - a lot is to be said for one significant other - in the years I lived with Paco - 1973 until 1988 - after the fire in the loft, in 1978, when I had found the apartment in the walk up on East 6th Street - I remember feeling happy when I walked up the stairs and saw the light under the door and knew he was there. He had come by then to spend time in East Hampton alone in the winter, too cold for me, also I had a job. I also remember what it meant to me to feel a warm body next to mine at night. I did cling to him longer than I should have - my mother's words in my ear: the worst fate for an old woman is to be alone. That, after she had divorced my sweet father who would have been so happy, had he been able to be with her.

About Paco I could only say he liberated me from him - after his youth from the time he was 14 in the streets of civil war Spain - he had joined an anti Franco group in Burgos at 14, was jailed, ran away and could not return home - he never had learned to love. The mother of his two children and his two children suffered most - I luckily had come to realize he was a fun pal - and fun we had - but hardly a loyal protector. For three months I was very unhappy, then went to California, then Stephen W. came along  - very far from ideal but he helped get my mind off Paco.

Christine F. had come into my life before Paco, in 1968 - actually telling me she was "bi" and had I ever connected to this part in me - in many ways she could have given me much more than Paco did. After I met her she still returned for nearly a year to Germany, but after she came back I remember her saying: You will never again be alone on a weekend - where I go, you will go - and indeed she always included me in her dates with various and sundry men - her predominant orientation. Also for many years we were in daily contact, by phone the times I left New York in the summers, countless times around her big round table laden with good food and wine - and a patient listener to all the details of my life - and I did listen to her too. Also I studied some Polish history - she was Born in Warsaw in 1943 - had come to Germany in early 1945, had a German passport and very little relation to her Polish past. I felt that should be remedied.

The summer she met me I was still teaching a summer course at Columbia U. - she had left school at 12 or 13 when her father suddenly died and she found herself in charge - her older sister and mother at a total loss how to deal with life. She was in awe of people in academia - only a few days ago I saw in Massachusetts her close friend from these days until today, who has much more ambition than I and had a glorious academic career. Christina had hoped and expected the same for me - but as I was into downward mobility - Christina was dreamed I would write a self help book on how to live well on 5 dollars a day, that became my mastery while I did stand by her as she found her way into a nursing program - then a shortage of nurses - this was 1970 - she excelled in her studies, was offered a fell scholarship to study medicine - but declined - living her life meant more to her than the long delayed rewards of becoming an M.D. It was I who suggested to her to approach Visiting Nurses - she was doing very well with cerebral palsy, but I thought visiting nurses would more interesting - she did extremely well, at one time promoted to management, she requested to return into the field - finally becoming a contract nurse at $100 a visit - and while I for years had enjoyed her extreme generosity and in contrast to me casual attitude to money - she then with help of friends bought a condo corner Avenue B and 9th Street, the Christadora house - made some smart investments, is retired now and an affluent traveller..

I should have written that self help book - still should perhaps - a friend in Zurich bought me a German book by an aristocrat called: Stilvoll verarmen - how to become poor in style. In many ways this is what I have practiced - also with help of friends like Christina - who for years treated me to dinners - often the dojo on St.Mark's Place - then of course all the meals at her house - after a day of visiting the sick, at first in Harlem, later on the Upper West Side - many dying Jews - all her patients loved her - medications became her specialty - after such a day she would shop and cook in her 5th floor walk up on Second Avenue - for a while acrross the court yard we cpuld look into each other's windows. Romantically she talked of our friendship as it was getting to close of 30 years - when I met her she was 25 and drop dead gorgeous, I celebrated with her her 50th birthday, women only when she declared: my time with men is over. There had been many. She never had wanted to marry.

Over the years I had seen her tsking a red pencil to her address book - by first names - and "weed out" the no longer desirable - my address books had last names (now I sometimes have trouble remembering them, first names are easier) - never ever did I do weeding. I watched her - not approving - and never thinking I too might be weeded out some day. By then Paco had permanently moved to East Hampton - we had remained friends, somewhat remote - in earlier years Christina had spent many weekends with us, she had liked Paco from the day I met him and he liked her - she was part of our relationship. That had come to an end in 1988 and meeting Stephen who is 24 years younger than I am and whom I brought to New York from New Hampshire - I had entered with him the world of the squatters - who would stand under the house where Christina had bought her condo and yell: die yuppie, die - we had gone very different ways - though in many ways, to come back to thast once again - the death of my mother had also played a role. In 1981 I had suggested we buy a house together in Park Slope or thereabouts - had begun looking at houses - had written in the summer of 1981 all the many letters with endless carbon copies detailing my plans - Christina was on board - and this death - the suicide - wiped them all out.

Paco then suggested the house in Williamsburg, Christina was in Florida when we looked at the house, then said I had bought a house without her - all we had done while she was away was put down a binder - but I don't think that idea was all that attractive to her - when we bought the house on Bedford Ave and North 6th Street in 1982 for $30.000 - now worth millions - it was a high crime area - we had an old bar, an industrial kitchen, a garden - I dreamed of a restaurant with what now has come into style, a table d'hote - a big oval table for many - the apartment, subdivided during the depression from 3 to five (same true in my house on East 6th, from 10 to 20) - in Brooklyn they were tiny and unattractive. Paco wanted to sell the house and more to East Hampton - I could not deal with that house alone, we sold it in 1986 at a considerable profit even then - I displaced my son who had stayed in the small East 6th Street apartment - and two years later Paco moved permanently to East Hampton - a house that was not winderized, pipes froze, lousy heatring system - not a way I wanted to live - and while I did have some good times in East Hampton it never really was my cup of tea. I much prefer New Hampshire.

Christina moved to Christadora house I believe in 1995 - that house built in the 20's to house the very poor, the apartments tiny - it got flipped many times - now she probably can rent her place with a great view and much son for $2000 a month or more. When she moved there she took her red pencil and weeded me out, no longer answering my calls - three years later it would have been 30 years since we first met and she attached herself to me.

A New York story - she came to America 17 years later than I did, I was divorced when she met me, my sons were 8 and 11 years old, in the summer of 1969 my ex husband had gone on a honey moon with his second wife to Russia - I had the car, the summer house on a lake in Connecticut we had bought in 1967 and that he thought I never would have been able to give up - foolishly I just signed it over to him, never read the divorce papers - still - until he met his third wife, Janet in 1974 - I often had the use of the car and the house and took Christina there - it was a great place - Christina loved the kids - they love her to this day, my daughter in law adores her - I am out of her picture. She came to the wedding of my son's second wife and whenever we do meet - she throws her arms around me  and acts as if we still were the buxom buddies we were for close to 30 years. To me to this day it is incomprehensible how someone can terminate a long time friendship with a stroke of a pen - I suspect there were also other friends who pleaded for my elimination. However by now I do realize - as people become older, poor - needy! - many of those from younger days who have been more ambitious, materially more successful - see no more value in such a person. I am far the only who has experienced that and good short stories are being written about it. In many ways, while I attract people younger than myself - as I get old and older they tend to distance themselves from me - and including the many who have died - this makes lives of many old and older lonely. I am taking advantage of my joy of writing at times when my mood is up - often for months it isn't and I fall silent - but I enjoyed this morning sitting at the computer and reminscing all by myself - and it just occurs to me I left my cell phone on the charger upstairs - who knows how many people have tried to call me - I must go upstairs and find out. Still - I would have much enjoyed had Christins been at times willing to reminisce with me of the many years we were so close, experienced so much together. It does make me very sad. Occasionally I talked to her sister in Munich - whose phone no longer works - one of the last times she said to me, Kitty, as she calls her, has become very hard. Hard times produce hard people - many call me tough - perhaps that too is a form of hard and probably there are also people out there who experience me as hard - people whom I too have hurt - times when I did not know what I was doing - and all I can say, forgive me if you can. And I am sure there is also a number who will find this here writing of today inappropriate - and I am by fasr not the first or last writer whose writing is considered inappropriate - see how the children of Thomas Mann suffered from his writing, two of the five I believe committed suicide - words can kill. Words can be wonderful, words can be terrible - words have toppled empires - and I wish they would again. My words remain in the realm of the personal - due to lack of ambition???   I would love to be a NYT columnist and be heard commenting on what is happening in the world - by millions?  Never even made it into writing for small newspapers. Oh well. Sending message. Marianne