#familiar with my 'phone call once every few months' communication style. but strangers would just be like... wtf. And I don't blame them

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Five, “A New Hope”

// FIND OLD CHAPTERS HERE //

hi!!!! i hope you’re all doing okay and hanging in there during this crazy time in the world. please know that im thinking of you, and please stay safe and healthy!!! id love to hear what you think of this chapter so plz like reply with thoughts or send me an ask??? id love to talk to anybody about this story bc it sounds weird but i love this story too???? like tell me what was your fav part??? what do you predict is gonna happen? 

thanks so much for still reading after all of this time, and i hope this chapter distracts you from some of the crap going on in the world ♡♡♡♡

                                            *SNEAK PEEKY TIME*

“But some moments when I’m so deep into my work, a thought pops into my head making me think that I’ll look up and see him there. Or some days I even think I hear his voice. Or I think the text I just got was from him. 

None of that happens. 

And it upsets me far more than it should. Some days I’m just better at ignoring it. 

I couldn’t have wished for a better “new job,” but sometimes I miss him. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because there isn’t anything I can do. I know I made the right decision to leave, but in the moments I get overwhelmed and frustrated with learning new tasks, I wish I could be sitting back in that desk down the hall from his office.”

                                   PART TWO: THE STRANGER

The noises here are all new and hard to get used to. The printer works differently. It’s like a maze in order to find the department I work in. There are key codes I have to put in and doors I have to scan my badge at. There are so many more names to learn here, and new phone extensions to master. 

But I like it. 

And I think I’m getting the hang of it. Slowly but surely. 

“It’s Becky, right?” a voice says, pulling me from my chaotic thoughts. 

I blink, looking away from my steaming cup of tea and to the face smiling at me. 

“Uh yeah, it is. And you’re . . . Molly, right?” 

“Yeah, wow! You’re good at names!” she laughs before sipping from her own cup of tea and taking a seat beside me. “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s good so far, thanks,” I reply, picking up my tea and blowing on it. Avoiding her round brown eyes, I think hard about where I’ve seen her before. She must be in the same department if she’s in this break room. Hmmm. I hate it when I can’t remember things even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. 

“You used to work for Styles and Lawson, did I hear that right?” Molly asks before taking a long pull from her mug. She crosses her legs clad in black slacks that end at the polka-dotted blouse hugging her large chest. 

If I got a pound for every time somebody has asked me that here, I wouldn’t even have to work here. 

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound how annoyed I am to have to answer this question for the hundredth time. I told my new boss this once, and somehow everybody in the Administration department now knows it. 

“Interesting. It looks like you stayed in the same world coming to work at the courts,” she remarks and I nod blankly. 

Yeah, as if I haven’t heard that one before in the last month, too. 

I continue to smile and nod at her repetitive questions. I sometimes answer them and then listen to her drone on about her three kids until the small hand reaches the 6 on the clock and my break is over. I’ve never been so excited before to go back to work. 

Sitting down at my desk, I almost smile at the way the cushion welcomes me back. Framed pictures smile back at me. 

Skye and I. Robbie and I as kids in matching outfits. My dad. My grandparents. 

The same ones I had on my old desk. At his firm. 

My chin arrives in my hand and a heavy sigh falls from my lips. The little pink clock on my desk tells me it’s only 12:30 in the afternoon. 

I wonder what he’d be doing right now. 

My eyes fall shut with a groan. I try to shake my head free of those kinds of thoughts. The very thoughts I’ve been trying to push away this last month. But after so long, it’s almost too hard. I thought that the more time that passed would make it easier, but some days it’s harder than others. 

I really like it here. Everybody is nice and helpful. My boss is easygoing, supportive, communicates well, and helps me with any questions I may have. My workload is realistic, it’s familiar, and I enjoy it. 

But some moments when I’m so deep into my work, a thought pops into my head making me think that I’ll look up and see him there. Or some days I even think I hear his voice. Or I think the text I just got was from him. 

None of that happens. 

And it upsets me far more than it should. Some days I’m just better at ignoring it. I couldn’t have wished for a better “new job,” but sometimes I miss him. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because there isn’t anything I can do. I know I made the right decision to leave, but in the moments I get overwhelmed and frustrated with learning new tasks, I wish I could be sitting back in that desk down the hall from his office. I tell myself that I just miss the familiarity. But I know that I also miss him. 

His sweet cherry smile. 

His contagious laugh. 

His bizarre outfits that I looked forward to every day. 

His twinkling green eyes. 

The taco dates. 

The late-night hangouts in his office with wine coolers and take away. 

The silly yet frustrating Scrabble games. 

His smell. Sandalwood mixed with bergamot and cedar. 

And his jokes.

His raspy deep drawl. 

And his warm bear hugs. 

Pressing my fingers into my temples, I blink hard. The thoughts disappear for a second, but not long enough. I lift my head and settle my fingers on the letters of the keyboard.  The login screen is only blurry for a moment, and the moment passes. But the ache in my chest and the racing inside of my skull doesn’t stop. They only continue as I open up a document and continue my work, as I continue missing him. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.

+ 

12:30 right on the dot. 

The black second-hand ticks past the three nears the four, and then the five. Fat snowflakes fall against my foggy window, blanketing the rest of London in its opaqueness. The words of David Gilmour and Roger Waters tickle my ears, but I don’t listen to them. The thoughts whirring around inside of my head keep them out. 

I wonder what she’s doing right now. 

Is she liking her new job?

Are they being nice to her?

Did she already eat lunch?

Are any blokes flirting with her?

Does she have her own desk?

What kind of place does she work at now?

Is she happy?

That thought weighs heavier than the others, and I feel it. My lips part and a long sigh leaves them. 

Knock knock! 

“Yeah?” I call out, not bothering to turn around. The bustling of double-deckers, cars, and people on the streets are more entertaining than any emails I should be reading. 

“Harry, are you going to join us?” I hear a familiar voice ask. 

“Yeah, ‘ll be there inna minute,” I answer, ignoring the tone of Myles’ voice. 

The sound of the door closing trickles past the music and into my ears. My head falls into my hands and I let my eyes close. My fingers find their way into my hair and I remain there for a second, feeling my breaths leave and enter me. 

I miss you, Becks. 

A few breaths later, my fingers fall. Now, they find the closed laptop sitting near me and the leather book atop it. Next, my feet find their way to the door. But they stop in front of it. All of the moisture in my throat suddenly disappears, and a giant old lump appears in its place. 

Oh, not again. 

I breathe in and out and wait until it passes. 

My ringed fingers wrap around the handle and turn it. Swallowing past the lump, my feet move again and down the hall. Knuckling at my eyes, I round the corner and quickly wipe at my eyes. 

“You okay, Harry?” Myles asks me, welcoming me when I sit down beside him in the large meeting room. 

“Yeah, jus’ got somethin’ in me eye,” I tell him, gulping hard. But there’s something in his ocean blue eyes that says different. He’s been a blessing putting up with my shit and excuses, but I think he knows more than he lets on. He’s always cared more than he shares. 

He pats my arm before he turns to face Jennings who begins to talk. “It’ll be alright, it always is,” he mentions in a whisper. 

I nod and turn my attention to Jennings. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I can’t focus, and I can’t believe him. Because the chaos of my mind continues. And so do the pictures of her scattered around in there. And so do the feelings, because no matter how hard I try to shut them off, they stay. Even after a bottle of brandy. But the alcohol doesn’t make me stop missing her, and hating myself for messing up. And for losing Becks. 

+

Alex Trebek’s voice welcomes my ears as I step foot into my flat. I jump when I hear Skye shout back at him. 

“What is Little Women!” she nearly screams, and her arms fly into the air when she gets it right. “Yessssss!” she exclaims, cheering for herself. Her pigtails the color of snow and blue cotton candy dance in the air around her. 

I laugh with a shake of my head, sighing as I shrug off my coat. 

“Oh hey, Boops,” she greets me, garnering an eye roll from me. 

“You know not to call me that,” I reply, closing the closet door that now holds my peacoat damp from the winter flurries. 

“I think I’m one of the few people allowed to call you that,” she replies, and I give her a glare in return. 

To no surprise, it doesn’t do anything, because she just picks up another gummy worm and feeds it between her lips coated in neon pink lipstick. 

“What, did your clients cancel their haircuts and colors because of the blizzard?” I ask her, padding over to the kitchen island. 

“Yeah, bloody idiots forgot how to drive in the snow or something,” she nearly hisses, but it doesn’t last long because she yells another answer at the tv. “What is the Mariana Trench!”

“Skye, we have neighbors you know,” I scold her as my eyes search the shelves of our refrigerator. “Also, would it kill you to do some grocery shopping, perhaps before we’re snowed in?”

“Yeah sorry, I meant to but I forgot.”

“What’s new,” I mumble under my breath. I grab the first thing of leftovers I see and pop it into the microwave. Rice and broccoli from last night. It’s just so exciting eating healthily. “You’re on grocery shopping duty next then.”

“Have you seen Harry yet at your new job?” Skye pipes up, ignoring my question. I truly wonder how many times I roll my eyes at her in one day or even one hour. 

“No, I told you that I’m in like the way back in the admin department in the courts. He would be on the other side in the actual courtrooms where the cases are held, silly.”

“Oh well sorrrrrrrrrry,” she retorts and then yells another answer at the tv. “Who is Martin Clunes!”

The microwave beeps as I reach up into the cupboard and pull down a mug at random. It has superheroes donning its sides - Batman, Superman, and Wonderman. An old one of my dad’s. But that’s not who it makes me think of. 

“Funnier is not a word!” 

“Oh yes, it ‘s! Jus’ look it up in tha dictionary, or better yet, on yer phone,” he giggles in reply. Shaking my head, I type the word into Google and feel a smirk begin to warm my cheeks. 

“Oh god, what ‘s that look for? I know that look’s no good.”

“So funnier is a word, huh?” I counter, feeling the smirk inch up my cheeks slowly. Turning my phone around, I show the Google page to him and watch his face morph into denial. A sneaky grin lines his lips as he resists to roll his eyes. His head falls next with a defeated sigh and he punches the pillow. 

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Harry Styles,” I tell him, my lips letting loose a laugh. He joins me before groaning and taking his word off of the board. 

“I needa break,” he huffs. The sofa whines from his shifting weight and I hear his footsteps trailing behind him. 

“Tea break?” I ask and hear a pleased ‘yes’ in return. 

“Here lemme, ‘s my turn anyways,” Harry insists, and I feel his hand on my back. Facing him, he winks a hazel-green eye at me. “Go pick yer word, Becks. Lemme take care of tha tea.”

I nod and begin to turn to walk away. I almost stop when I feel his long fingers rub a circle into my back. But I don’t, because they’re gone before I can blink. A silent sigh drops from my bottom lip as I walk away from him. 

You have no idea what you do to me, Harry Styles. 

The thoughts being sewn together in my mind revolve around something other than the Scrabble tiles sitting in front of me. Instead, they’re about how well the skinny blue jeans hug his legs and another asset of his. And how the black and blue flannel he wears makes him look insanely cozy. My God. 

“Don’ think so hard, Becks,” Harry titters, and I pull my eyes away from the Scrabble tiles that were beginning to grow blurry. I look to him with a question on my face and find him laughing with those eyes on me. “Can’t find any good words, eitha?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. I let my head fall to the back of the sofa I’m curled up against. 

“Tha’s fine. Why dontcha put it t’ tha side an’ we can do somethin’ else?”

“Like what?” I ask, moving our racks of tiles to the coffee table where the board sits. 

“I dunno, you can pick,” he answers. As I grab for the remote, I hear the pouring of water and the clinking of spoons. 

Yawning, I sink into the sofa and press the power button. The television screen comes to life in front of me and the last thing watched appears. I flip through the channels, and after a couple of programs, I arrive on a familiar scene. 

“Oooo, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” I hear, turning to find Harry arriving on the sofa next to me. I take the steaming Marvel mug in his outstretched hand with a ‘thank you.’ 

“I didn’t know you liked Harry Potter,” I mumble before blowing on my tea. After deciding it’s far too hot, I sit forward and set it down on a coaster. 

“Oh, I love it. I read a few o’ tha books when I was younger, an’ ya can’t find a betta movie. There’s nothin’ like these,” he answers, eyes already glued to the screen. He sets his tea aside with a clud on the table. “Here,” Harry says, and I look over to find him draping my velvet black star blanket over me. And him. 

“Mmmm, thanks,” I mumble happily, pulling it up to my shoulders. I feel him move around next to me before finally getting comfortable. 

“Yer welcome, bug. I think this issa good way t’ spend tha resta tha night. Too cozy an’ tired t’ do anythin’ else,” he comments with a laugh ending his words. 

I nod and tip my head to the side, not expecting to find his shoulder right there. I freeze and peek a look up at him. He notices and glances down at me. All he does is smile at me before his eyes go back to the scene on the television. 

I decide to stay there and he doesn’t seem to mind, only intent on commenting on the scene happening where Dumbledore first meets Voldemort. “Oooo, I like this part here. They make it look so cool with tha wisps o’ memories, an’ tha lighting ‘s incredible an’ so spooky.”

“Mmmmh, I always liked Tom Riddle, because of how creepy he is. And he’s much better looking than Voldemort,” I comment. 

“What?” Harry laughs, taking a peek at me. His thick eyebrows are scrunched in a disbelieving question as a smile pinches his dimpled cheeks. “But Tom Riddle ‘s Voldemort, ya goof.”

“Yeah I know, but like his younger self is far cuter than the noseless bald bloke he becomes,” I try to explain, but he only shakes his head with a few giggles. 

God, I think I could listen to that sound for hours on end. 

“Ya don’ make any sense, sometimes,” Harry chuckles. 

“Come on, yes I do! Wasn’t it like with every Horcrux he made he just started looking weirder?” I counter, nudging his shoulder with my own. 

“No, ya silly! It was cuz he was so deep into tha dark arts-.”

“Including making the Horcruxes!” I almost shout in argument. I watch the realization embed into his features, and I know I’ve won. 

“Okay fine, yer right. Well kinda. From what I rememba it has t’ do with that, an’ cuz he was a Slytherin an’ Parselmouth so he wanted t’ look like a snake. Y’know, tha lack o’ hair an’ nose? I also read that it could also be cuz he was one o’ tha last descendants of Salazar Slytherin,” Harry continues, words of admiration falling out one after the other. 

“Woooooow. I didn’t know we had a Harry Potter geek in the house,” I say, trying to stifle a laugh, but it doesn’t work. 

Another eye roll. 

Then possibly the most adorable pout I’ve ever seen as he moves away from me with a whimper. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I laugh, trying to pull him back over to me. But he’s so tall and long, that I have little success with my noodle arms. “Harry, I was just kidding.”

“Sure ya were,” he pouts, keeping his back to me as he settles on the other side of the couch. 

His name leaves my lips in a laugh. My fingers remain around one of his biceps, and I pull, but he doesn’t move an inch. I give up with an exaggerated sigh and my own whimper. 

Plopping myself back in my spot, I hunker down underneath the blanket. Pretending to watch the movie, I wait. 

“Yer not gonna get me with that pout,” Harry says all of a sudden. 

Taking that as a dare, I slowly look over at him. With knitted eyebrows and my bottom lip sticking out. A smile appears on his lips and blush fills his cheeks. His hands fall from his shoulder-length hair he’s just put into a bun. 

“Fine, ya got me. I can’ stay mad at that face,” he relents with words dipped in sugar. 

“You’re not the only one who can do a good puppy dog pout,” I comment as the couch dips with his movements. I feel his shoulder bump back into mine. I try not to smile too big as I tip my head to fall back against his shoulder. 

“Ya comfy, bug?” Harry mumbles next to me. 

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Good, ‘m glad me shoulder’s all comfy for ya,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I see it in all its glory when I chance a look up at him and find him smiling down at me. 

It’s like looking into the sun. And like all of the times before - I never want to look away. 

I swallow hard, feeling the lump forming inside of me. 

“Can you please not bring him up anymore? It’s not helping the fact that I’m trying to forget him,” I spit at Skye, setting the mug down hard on the granite countertop. 

“Sorrrrrrrrrry. Goodness, what’s gotten into you today? I thought you were liking your new job, Ree.” 

“I am, I just don’t want to talk a-about Harry anymore,” I reply, pressing the button to open the microwave. The smell of broccoli and garlic trickles past me. 

“You can’t even say his name,” she laughs, and I groan as I stir the broccoli and brown rice around in the hot glass bowl. “Heeeey, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know why you gave up on him, you could always go back and finish your . . .” 

Skye’s words trail behind me as my feet pad down the hallway to my bedroom. You’re not helping me to forget him, Skye. 

You’re only making me remember him, and I’ve been trying so hard lately not to. 

My quilt several shades of pink welcomes my return as I plop onto my bed. Shoveling a bite of broccoli and garlic rice into my mouth, I grab the remote and turn on my tv. Reaching for the Fire Stick remote teetering on the edge of the table, I push it and instead of grab. It clatters to the hardwood floor and I groan in response. Setting my dinner on the wood table, I regrettably leave my bed to retrieve it. Flicking on my lamp, I squat by the table and peer into the space behind my table. 

There it is. The long black rectangle waits for me there. But just as I’m reaching for it, another rectangle catches my eye. This time, it’s a white one. 

“Huh?” I mumble, feeling the stiff paper welcome my hands. 

I flip it over and the light catches on it. The long envelope stares back at me, and so do the letters on its front. My name in black pen interrupts the white expanse, but that’s not the writing that I’m focusing on. It’s the return address. 

Styles and Lawson 418 Stevens St.  London UK

Turning it over, I finger at the sealed edge. I don’t realize I’m doing it, but I bite at my bottom lip as I debate whether to open it. I can’t stop wondering what’s inside, and the postage date of December 18th only makes my curiosity burn brighter. And the fact that I’ve never seen this before in my life. 

“Skye, why do I have a letter from Styles and Lawson that I’ve never opened or seen before?” I yell to her through my half-open door. 

“Oh, that? I put it on your bedside table when it came that day. How am I supposed to know why you haven’t opened it?” she quips, as dumbfounded as I am. 

“It was behind my table, so it must have fallen.”

“Ya think?!” she replies with her usual loud volume, followed by another Jeopardy shout. 

I rip it open without another moment of hesitation. The paper makes a satisfying sound. A matte white paper looks back at me. The numbers and watermark on it tell me what it is. My fingers recoil instinctively when I touch the glossy object. I instead pull it out by its edges. 

Splashes of red and green and long-forgotten faces stare back at me. Myles. Mickey. Rose. Jennings. Myles. Rory. And Harry. Their faces are followed by the words “Merry Christmas from all of us at Styles and Lawson. Wishing you a happy Christmas and a fantastic New Year!” in a blocky white font. Little holly berry branches decorate the corners of the picture. A picture taken months ago at one of their big meetings, I assume. The sun is shining in through the window, and Harry’s hair isn’t as long. Everybody’s arms are around each other and a big goofy smile sits on his face. Tongue out and all. 

I do it before I can stop myself. My finger dances around the outline of his face, and down the black and maroon suit he wears in the picture. Probably the only printed picture I have of him, and one of the few I have in total. But there are enough burned into my brain that I’m already trying to erase. 

I toss them both onto the floor, leaving them behind my table where I wish they would’ve stayed in the first place. I return to my broccoli and rice and play a new video on YouTube. It does a good job of drowning out his voice in my head, but not good enough. 

I want ya t’ come back, Becks. I want us t’ try again . . .. . . .. 

+

Shades of brown dance around in the steaming water. I watch them twirl together and meet one another. The water slowly grows darker and darker as steam rises off of the surface. 

“If you stare any harder, I think your superpowers will come out and it’ll explode,” somebody says wryly.

“Wow, I didn’ know you were a comedian,” I respond, wrapping my fingers around the warm metal chain. 

“I didn’t know you were eco-friendly all of a sudden,” Myles says, nodding his head towards my cup of tea. “Or a little kid, with that dorky thing.”

“Oh shuddup,” I respond, watching the brown liquid fall from the pink silicone pig tea infuser. “It makes me feel good tryna save tha environment, an’ this li’l thing ‘s bloody cute.”

“Sure, if you’re a bleeding first-grader,” he responds with a titter, pulling a mug down from the shelf. 

“Yer jus’ jealous,” I quip as I pry off the pig’s head and dump the soggy tea leaves into the waste bin. 

Myles laughs and walks around me to the black fridge to take out the carton of milk. I blow on my steaming mug, watching little waves form in the brown water from my breath. A little water tornado forms from my next breath. I watch in fascination as it twirls around in the mug before finally tapering out. 

“You okay, Hare?” Myles asks, his voice taking on a softer tone. A friendly tone. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately. You haven’t even been drinking coffee much, and that’s odd.”

“I’m fine,” I answer, bringing the mug to my lips and avoiding his eye contact. Setting the mug down on the counter, I chance a look inside the fridge and wonder what to have for lunch. 

“Is it Becky leaving? Is that why you’ve been acting differently?” Myles prods, nearly pulling a sigh from my lips. Or a groan. 

“I said ‘m fine, My,” I nearly retorted, my eyes glazing over the lone yogurts and forgotten sandwiches occupying the shelves. Slamming the door, I walk away and pick up my phone from the table in the center of the room. Maybe some takeaway. 

“Hare, you know you can talk to me about it,” Myles insists, throwing his hands up in the air. I ignore him, typing something on my phone, but I can see him out of the corner of my eye. 

Like he often does, he uses his hands to talk and they jump in the air only to fall with an exasperated sigh. Then they comb through his tousled blonde hair. 

“I hate seeing you like this, and not knowing how to help,” he continues softly. I give up, pressing the lock button on my phone and shoving it into my pants. 

I finally face him and look in his distraught brown eyes. 

“I miss her, Myles! I connected with Becky, a-and I screwed it up. I called her a liar and Amber was harassing her tha whole damn time without me knowing!” I confess, feeling the weight of the words fall from my shoulders as I finally say them. But the emotion rises in my throat, no matter how hard I try to hold it back. “She was amazing! She put up with me shit, and yet she stood up fer herself when she needed t’. She was funny, she was smart, she was beautiful, an’ I fooked it up!” The emotion eats at my words and by now, the horses are already out of their gates. And I don’t know how to corral them back in. “I hate feeling this way, but I dunno how you can help or even how I can help myself, Myles. So ‘m not g-gonna be myself ‘til I learn how t’ get ova this.”

I don’t know what to do. I steal a glance at him and find the sadness in his eyes is worse than before. I can’t handle it, and so I lift my feet and soon I’m walking out of the room. Leaving my tea, and the god awfully cute tea infuser pig. The one she got me before she left. 

“I saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“Wow, thanks, that makes me feel all warm an’ bubbly inside.”

“No, silly, I just mean it looked like something you’d like. And since you drink tea so much. And you’ve been buying metal straws and bamboo toothbrushes . . It seemed fitting. And isn’t the little piggy just so cute?”

“Yeah, I guess yer right . . . it really ‘s cute.”

Winding my way around coworkers, I suddenly find myself in front of the elevator stabbing at the buttons. I don’t even register which one I’ve pushed, because I want to be anyplace but here. Today is worse than most because anywhere I look there’s a memory of her stuck there. And they jump into my head and start playing before I can stop it. 

The elevator doors open with a ding and I step into the empty four walls, gladly. Rubbing at my eyes, I stab at the button for the parking garage my car is at. With a sigh, I feel some of the tension boiling inside of me leave. I get rid of the warm tears painted under my eyes and blink hard until my vision is clear again. 

Suddenly, the doors open and I nearly curse out loud when I see who’s waiting. The look on his face says that he feels about the same way. I step to the side, allowing him room to join me. He almost changes his mind, but he steps on and presses the button for 17. An awkward silence surrounds us as the elevator hums to life, dinging with each floor it passes. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I blurt out loud, doubting myself the second the words pass the threshold of my lips. 

His confused gray eyes rise and lock with mine, a question on his face. “What?” he answers, nearly annoyed with me. 

“I’m sorry, we’ve neva really talked and ‘ve neva been very nice t’ ya-,” I try, but he stops me. 

“Yeah, you haven’t, Harry, and so why should I? The last time I did a favor for you it didn’t really turn out too great,” Asher responds sharply, moving further away from me shaking his head. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he changes his focus to that. 

I look away and bite at my bottom lip. 

Way to go, Harry. 

But then the words are being shoved past my tongue and I can’t stop them. 

“I . . . jus’ wanna know if she’s doin’ alright,” they say, and I’m not even sure if he heard me with how quiet they were. 

Staring ahead, I see his head of blonde quiffed hair rise. He doesn’t say anything right away, but instead, he seems to think about it before he raises his head fully. 

“She’s okay,” he responds, with certainty to his words. And with those words, they take a little more of the tension I feel coating my body. 

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that . . . Is she uh liking her new job?”

“Yeah, she said it’s good. I dunno if I should be telling you this, but uh she found a clerk job in town. The same sorta thing as what she did here, which is good and makes switching jobs easier,” he continues, and I soak up every word because they’re about her. I wish I could hear these words from her mouth. But I can’t, and that’s my fault. 

“A-an’ they’re good t’ her there?” I continue, not knowing how to articulate the rambling thoughts in my head. 

“Yeah, they are,” Asher says, looking at me briefly. I look back and I watch his expression soften. “She’s doing well, Harry. She misses it here sometimes, but she’s adjusting and I think she’s where she needs to be right now.”

He doesn’t get to say anything more, because the elevator doors glide open. 

“Thank you, Asher . . I really mean it,” I tell him, giving a small smile. He nods and steps off and out of sight. 

And thus began our random elevator talks. I looked forward to them, even if they only lasted a couple minutes. And even if I only got to hear a vague update about her. And even if it made trying to forget her harder. 

+

The halls are quiet. A ghost town from earlier in the day where hundreds of feet traveled, and even just twenty minutes ago. But it’s the lunch hour, and everybody else has the same idea as me. To leave. Now, my black mod boots are the only sound on the speckled floors. The tall ceilings hide fluorescent lights and the gorgeous stained glass also hides, but from the snow. Identical snowflakes fall in the sky outside, and I pull my coat tighter around me in preparation to join it. 

The snowflakes melt in my hair and try to fly into my face, the wind pushing them this way and that. My car takes forever to warm up, making me curse myself for forgetting my matching violet hat and mittens on my desk. It only has just begun to warm up when I pull up in front of the towering brick building. Flocks of people rush to the doors from their cars, and the other way around. The vents blasting out warm air hush when I turn the key, bringing the chill with it. 

Well, this is it. My lungs heave a nervous breath and I try to sike myself up to even just open the door. But my thoughts get the best of me, and strings of what-ifs and doubts circle in my mind. 

What’s the point?

What if it turns out the same way as before?

What if I can’t do it?

What if I’m not good enough?

What if I made the right decision to leave?

Why should I try again?

What if I don’t like it anymore?

How can I do it by myself again when I never could the first time?

What if I fail?

Finally, I open the door and get out before I can stop. And I decide to leave all of the what-ifs and doubts there. Behind me. I focus on picking up my feet and putting one in front of the other until I’m standing in front of the familiar doors I haven’t stood before in a long time. 

The warmth welcomes me and so does the familiar smells of books and fried chips. The smells I always associated with this place. Lines of people fill the entrance and conversations paint the air. The Christmas decorations are long gone, and new knick-knacks and flyers replace them. Instead, cheesy Easter decorations line the bulletin boards. Yellow baby chicks. Pink fluffy banners. Easter eggs colored in patchy by tiny hands. Colorful signs advertise local events, reminders, schedules, and many more things I don’t have the time for. 

Pushing back the sleeve of my coat, I peek at my watch. I have 20 more minutes until I have to be back at work. Oh goodness, I hope I won’t regret this. 

But I don’t think I will, because I’m finally doing something about all of the nagging thoughts and ideas I’ve had the last few weeks. And I’m proud of myself for at least taking the first step. 

Stopping in front of the Information Desk, I’m met with a cheery smile asking me how they can help me. 

“Hi, I was hoping to speak with an advisor, a Mrs. Shepherd,” I begin, feeling the words roll off my tongue with hesitance. I’m surprised with myself for even remembering the name.

“Do you have an appointment with her?” she responds, looking away from her computer she types on. 

“No, I uh was just on my lunch break and I was hoping to meet with her to speak about something.”

“Alright. I’m going to need your name and what your question is for her,” the lady replies, looking between her computer screen and me. I pause, focusing on the fake yellow chick sitting atop her screen. Her heavily lined eyes wait for me behind her pink framed glasses, and her curly brown hair dances in the wind from her mini fan. 

“My name is Rebecca Holte, and I wanted to speak with Sally about finishing up my last 30 credits of my law degree.”

[pretendtobepunkrock]

Of Bins and Beer Bottles

a/n: aaannnnddd I’m back. This is something a little different to the usual style. The 4/4 preferences will be back every now and then, but I’m also going to be focusing on stuff like this. Please let me know what you think, and request something if you would like to! This is for @balsamichood​ and @twilightparker​, for being the best support team anyone would ever need.

word count: 1631

Life had a funny way of throwing people together.

Some were connected through a friend of a friend, others met through work. An overly long line at the bank could start a conversation off with a frustrated sigh, much like the way one could begin in the supermarket following an embarrassing incident and a stranger’s sympathetic smile. People met in various scenarios every day in every part of the world.

Ashton Irwin just happened to have been your next-door neighbour since the two of you were three.

Your friendship had been forged through being the only two children on your street. With no one else to play with, it only made sense that the two of you would become each other’s playmates. What started as creating building block towers together became colouring masterpieces side by side. The two of you learnt to ride your bikes together, racing down the road. As teenagers, Ashton would push his bin against the fence that separated your gardens so he could climb over and join you in the pool that your parents had put in when you were ten.

He was your first kiss when you were twelve, the two of you standing in the alley between your houses, giggling as Ashton’s lips brushed yours. It was all squashed noses and teeth banging together, but it was still a first kiss and the two of you still blushed after it happened. It wasn’t the only time, after the first he would often sneak a kiss from you when no one else was around, just two teenagers messing around.

And then life got in the way.

The two of you went to different schools, fell in to different crowds. You started to hang out less and less, the odd night after school and the occasional Sunday, and he rarely stole a kiss. Phone calls to update each other on what was going on in your lives turned into text messages, until they became few and far between. You got a part time job and Ashton joined the band and what had been the perfect childhood friendship was reduced to a smile and a hi when you saw each other outside your houses. It had been that way since you were about seventeen, and whilst you sometimes missed your once best friend, it wasn’t like you sat around pining for him. You had your own friends, had had relationships, had a new job, and had finally saved up enough to get a small place of your own with your best friend.

Which was why you were surprised that he came to your house warming party.

“Hey, isn’t that Ashton?”

Your head whipped around at Chelsea’s question, eyes landing on your former neighbour. The two of you smiled at each other across the room as he accepted a beer from his friend, before you both returned to your own conversations.

“Yeah it is.” You nod, looking back at Chelsea. Your best friend raised her eyebrows at you. “What?”

“I didn’t know he was coming.”

“Neither did I.” You shrug, taking a sip of your drink. “I mean, I added him to the group on facebook out of politeness, but I didn’t think he’d show. Didn’t even realise he was in the country.”

“Fair enough.” She nods, turning to smile at her boyfriend Zach as he appears at her side. “Hey you.”

Zach greets you both before brushing his lips against hers briefly, the two sharing another smile before their attention returns to you.

“Where’s my hello kiss?” You joke, Zach rolling his eyes at you as Chelsea grins. “I’ll leave you love birds alone. Since there are other people here I don’t have to be the third wheel for once.”

For the next couple of hours, you float around your apartment, laughing and drinking with the friends that had come to celebrate yours and Chelsea’s move. As the night turns into early morning the number of people begins to dwindle, and it isn’t until there’s barely anyone left that a familiar voice interrupts your humming as you were clearing empty beer bottles into a trash bag.

“Hey Baby.” He calls, using his old nickname for you. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Hello Stranger.” You smile, turning to face him. Ashton stands holding a bottle of his own, taking a sip as you lean back against the counter behind you. “Long time no see.”

“Well you’ve gone and moved out. I feel abandoned.”

“Says the one who left to tour the worlds years ago.” You roll your eyes as he smirks, taking a step towards. “How is life as a rock star?”

“I don’t have too many complaints.” He grins, and you straighten up slightly as he gets closer to you yet again. “You look good.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Ashton smirks again as he all but closes the space between the two of you, placing his drink by your side on the counter. You raise your eyebrows at him, and his smirk only grows, his voice much quieter when he next speaks.

“You ever wondered what would have happened if we’d stayed best friends?”

His question catches you off guard. Of course you had wondered, how could you not have. But the way Ashton was looking at you, the way he asked the question, it made you think he was thinking about it another way.

“Sometimes.” You nod, the action bringing your faces closer together. “Why, have you?”

“Sometimes.”

He grins at you and the space between the two of you is reduced to almost nothing. His eyes travel from your eyes to your lips and you can’t help but smile back at him as he closes the gap, lips brushing yours in an action almost identical to when he’d kissed you when you were twelve. You barely had time to close your eyes when another voice interrupted the two of you.

“Y/N Maisy’s leaving!”  

Ashton pulls away at the call, the two of you snapping out of the bubble you’d been in.

“I’ll see you around Baby.” He winks at you, turning to leave the kitchen as Chelsea and Maisy enter, smiling at your friends. “See you guys later.”

Chelsea raises an eyebrow at you and you shake your head at her, instead stepping forward to say goodbye to Maisy. Whilst your head tried to wrap around what had just happened with Ashton, your heart rate started to return to normal.

You didn’t see him again after the party.

It wasn’t like you were expecting to. With Ashton’s schedule you hardly expected to bump into him out and about. He’d reached out to you, a couple of texts and the odd snapchat, but it wasn’t like the two of you had returned to your childhood ways. Months passed and the minimal communication continued, and you didn’t think anything of it.

The weather got warmer and on your weekend off you returned to your parent’s house, taking advantage of the pool in their garden. Your phone was playing music in the background as you lay on one of the deck chairs, drying off having just finished a swim, when his voice interrupted your thoughts yet again.

“Good song choice.”

You roll your eyes as he drops down into the chair beside you, turning to face him. He was holding a couple of beers in one hand, the other putting his phone in his pocket.

“How did you know I was here?”

“You put an Instagram story on.” He shrugs, smirking at you. “So I pushed the old bin against the fence and jumped over like I used to.”

“You know we have a front door.”

“Yeah but where’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes again, accepting the bottle he handed you. The two of you drank in silence for a few minutes, listening to your playlist as the sun begin to set.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.” He sighs, the two of you looking back at each other. “You know, at being a best friend.”

“Me too.” You smile, watching as he took another drink. “Not like I put any more effort in than you.”

“And I’m sorry I never asked you to be my girlfriend.” He smirks, and you laugh before rolling your eyes again. “I mean, you practically were for a while, which makes me crapping out even worse.”

“Oh yeah you broke my heart.” You shake your head, taking a sip of your drink. “We were kids Ash, don’t worry about it.”

“And what about the last time?”

You look away, sighing to yourself as you raise your bottle to your lips yet again. His eyes remain on you, and you sigh again before looking back at him.

“You tell me.”

“I just, I always think that we practically wiped out over ten years of friendship, of love. Because I do love you Y/N. You’re always going to mean something to me. I don’t know, I only came to the party to see you but when I did, something just clicked. I don’t know if we’re supposed to be together or to be just friends, but we’re supposed to be something.”

You smile at him and nod, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand and started to rub his thumb along your skin, the two of you looking away again. You didn’t know either, about how Ashton was supposed to fit into your life. The two of you had changed in the years you’d spent apart, and it wasn’t like it could all be solved then and there and live happily ever after as whatever it was you were destined to be.

But at least life had finally pulled the two of you back together.

[khadij-al-kubra]

Can I Bar-row Your Attend-tion (Bar & Grill AU)

Pairing: Roman/Patton

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Thomas, Joan, Talyn, Deceit (Dio)

Summary: Roman and Patton are two bartenders at a local bar & grill with some serious chemistry. However, the only people who don’t realize it are each other, and one of them is in a relationship…on the rocks.

Author’s Note: Hey friends! So here’s the next chapter finally in my Bar & Grill AU. I wanted to get it out sooner after seeing all the kind and positive feedback, but you know how it is when you have to adult. Not so conducive for writing time. Anywho, here it is, and apologies for the length. (i really need to keep a more strict word count)  If you’d like to be in the tag list for future chapters let me know. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Disclaimer: Puns ahead. Many. (muahaha)

<--PREVIOUS

Chapter 2: One Roman Coke, Hold the Crush 

(POV- Patton)

Patton knew he should feel grateful, happy even, to have a boyfriend like Dio. After all, they’d been going steady for six months now and there was still a lot to like about him. But he’s not Roman, Patton thought guiltily as his boyfriend drove him to work. They just had a brunch date this morning and Dio offered to give Patton a ride. Even as they sat there eating chocolate chip pancakes (Patton’s favorite), he’d been thinking about his co-worker. What kind of a boyfriend was he?

“Thanks again for the ride sweetie,” said Patton as they pulled up to the curb. “And for brunch. I had a nice time.”

Actually, Patton had spent most of the time trying to tell a funny story while Dio either scrolled on his phone or half-heartedly listened while nodding his head. Patton wasn’t as naïve as people thought he was. He could tell when people weren’t really interested in what he was saying. Roman would have been interested.

“It’s no trouble kitten,” said Dio. “I had time before work anyways, so I’ll probably head to the park and perform for a while before clocking in.”

“Sounds fun. Hope you get lots of tips. People always like watching you dance.”

He sure did. Watching the unusual yet beautiful way the man could move his body was what had drawn him to Dio in the first place.

“I know,” he said.

Dio reached over to unlock the door for him, his lean muscles flexing and the sunlight brinigng out the golden yellow in his snake tattoo. Patton stayed in the passenger seat, waiting (hoping) for some parting sign of affection form the other.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, tapping his lips with a finger.

“Oh of course,” said Dio, his voice silky. “How could I forget?”

Dio leaned in the kiss Patton, his lips tasting faintly like that matcha tea he liked to drink. He even gave another peck on the spot beneath his ear where Patton liked, but the gesture had been tainted by the tone of voice. Sometimes Patton couldn’t tell if he really meant what he said or not. Patton smiled, said goodbye and stepped out of the car. He watched Dio drive away before walking up the block, the taste of his lips still lingering. I wonder what Roman’s lips might taste like?

He stepped through the doors and felt the day’s bad feelings wash away with the familiarity of his workplace. Sanders’ really was such a cozy little establishment. With its seat cushioned chairs and redbrick walls, the sunlight streaming in during the day and warm hanging light bulbs at night. The modern acoustic covers that played in the background loudly enough to enjoy but not so much you had to shout over. Logan had asked Joan to help put together the bars playlist, and good thing too. Otherwise they’d be listening to Mozart or Beethoven all day. Classical music wasn’t exactly Bach in style.

The old place opened at 3pm, so there were only a handful of familiar faces so far. People either came here for a late lunch or were waiting for the bar to open.  Patton smiled and said hi to every one of them, and they smiled back. He’d always been a people person, and why not?  His motto was, strangers are just friends you haven’t made yet.

“Hey Patton,” said Joan. The waiter was setting fresh napkins and silverware.

“Heya kiddo!” said Patton. “Oh! How’s Talyn doing? I hope they’re feeling better after last night.”

Speak of the pastel angel, Talyn popped out from behind him. Their arms were loaded with menus, probably fresh with a list of today’s specials.

“Feeling a lot better thanks,” said Talyn.

“I’m so glad!” Patton said, giving the tiny waiter a big hug. They really were like a colorful little kitten, which made Patton love them even more. “Now make sure you drink plenty of water during your breaks and don’t strain yourself too much.”

“I’ll do my best Pat.”

“Great! Welp, my shift’s about to start so I’d better get to work. I wouldn’t want to bar-row your attend-tion for too long.”

Patton grinned as the duo gave a simultaneous eeyyy, then he hopped behind the bar. He got the earlier shift from 4:30-11:30pm and Roman had the later shift from 5:30pm-12:30am; a half hour before Logan closed up shop. So his charismatic co-worker wouldn’t be here for another hour. Oh well. They still got to have six swell hours together, and Patton enjoyed every minute. Heck, seeing Roman’s smiling face every night was honestly Patton’s favorite part of his job.

Customers rolled in and out of the bar. Talyn and Joan went from table to table with orders, Thomas occasionally popped out from the kitchen with food or to chat, and Logan seated incoming customers. Meanwhile Patton made drinks for the small batch of happy hour customers. Patton thought it was a fitting name for that time of day, because so many of his customers at the bar seemed just that- happy.

So far his shift was filled with regulars he knew and a few new faces. Most of them were ladies tipsy with laughter after a few drinks like Valerie, Jasmine and Calypso. Others were men or non-binary folks like Sean and Nellie who shout-swapped stories after a few shots. Once in a while a customer would spill their woes as Patton served them drinks, and he would do his best to either offer advice or just a sympathetic ear. If anyone came in looking like gloomy goobers, Patton did his best to turn that around while he built their drinks behind the bar.

“I juss dunno padre. Maybe after all this time she’s finally *hic * bored or me,” said the near-weeping man in front of him, nursing his fifth Manhattan. “Maybe I should juss let her go. Save her the trouble.”

“Now that’s no way to go about things Mateo,” said Patton. “I’m sure she doesn’t think that at all. Besides, you clearly still love her and I’m sure she feels the same. Maybe it’s all just a miss-communication.”

Mateo looked at him with watery eyes and sniffled. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely kiddo! I think what you need to do is talk to her. Tell her how much you still care and want to work things out. But you also have to be a good listener and hear how she feels. It’s all about honest communication. Once you’ve got that, I’m sure you two can work it out.”

Mateo smiled and finished his drink. Then he handed Patton his credit card to pay with, letting the bartender know he was done.

“Thanks Patton. I really appreciate it,” said Mateo. To Patton’s delight, he also dropped a whole five dollars into his glass tip jar.

“Glad I could help kiddo, and thanks for the nice tip yourself!”

“How much’ve you got for *hic * vet school saving coming along?”

“Aaahh it’s…coming.”

Truth be told, Patton still had a long way to go. Bar attending kept the lights on and food on the table fine, but it wasn’t exactly a scholarship. He would know, given how many he’s tried applying for after Logan has typed him up a list of ones to try.

“Nice guy like you’s sure to get it,” said Mateo, waving goodbye.

Patton had to smile. Despite feeling a bit discouraged about Veterinary School, moments like that make it all a little bit better. Sure this wasn’t his dream job but he still got to help people in some small way and do a little bit of goodness in the world. Until he was finally a Vet, why couldn’t he do that as a bartender?

Dio had chuckled the one time Patton told him so. It wasn’t the nice kind of laugh either. That was the first time his boyfriend had made him feel…wilted inside. Patton couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt wilted with Dio.

A sudden vibrating in his apron pocket pulled Patton out of his thoughts. He took out his cellphone to see who texted him.

Dark Strange Step-Bro: Hey Pat. Out on a parkour run. Can I stop by for a take-out order? Gonna be a long night.

Patton smiled at the message from Virgil. His street artist brother had been doing those parkour runs for the past year and a half now, and it seemed to have been a big help with his anxiety. Sometimes Patton worried about his brother getting hurt from those speedy stunts, but if the positive adrenaline outlet made Virgil happy and mentally healthier than who was Patton to stop him?

Dad-Bro: No problem kiddo! I’ll have Thomas whip up your favorite.

Dark Strange Step-Bro: Cool. See you in a few.

Dad-Bro: Kk. Love you Virge <3

Dark Strange Step-Bro: Love you too Pat >//<

When Patton was in high school, his widowed father had fallen in love with and re-married a kind woman named Beatrice Alighieri. Along with a new step-mom he also gained a new younger (by two years) brother in Virgil. Sure he’d come off as dark, edgy, and a bit prickly at first. But with time and some good doses of love on Patton’s part, Virgil slowly opened up. Sure he was still dark and edgy, but now they were super close and protective of each other. Patton loved the anxious artist like a son, even if they were brothers.

Patton put away his cell phone. He made sure his customers were all taken care of before stepping out from the bar. He knocked on the kitchen windowsill.

“Hey Thomas,” Patton called into the kitchen.

“What up Patton?” said Thomas.

“Virgil’s coming by. Mind making him some mozzarella sticks to go?”

“No problem Pat.” The cook turned to the kitchen and shouted, “I NEED AN ORDER OF CHEESE STICKS IN A DOGGY BAG, BLOOD ON THE SIDE!”

Patton knew that was code for ketchup but still, ew. Being a pacifist, or a Pat-cifist as he liked to say, he didn’t do so well with blood. Logan once asked him how he was going to deal with that later on as a Veterinarian, aaaand he had yet to figure that little detail out. Ah well. He’ll figure it out.

About fifteen minutes later Virgil popped into the bar and grill. He was in his usual ripped black jeans, high tops, eye shadow and his favorite purple-patched hoodie. His satchel filled with spray paint cans hung across his shoulder and Virgil removed his large headphones with loud music blaring as he walked in. In most places Virgil went into what Patton liked to call ‘turtle mode.’ But at Sanders his brother actually relaxed a bit. Another reason Patton liked working there.

“Salutations Virgil,” said Logan, excusing himself from the customers he had seated.

“’Sup Logan. I see the gang’s all here,” said Virgil. “Except for old Romano.”

“Roman had another audition for his professional make believe last night but has assured me he will be at work today. Speaking of work, did you receive my email about employing you to create artistic content for the bar’s Facebook page?”

“The one to ‘get more youths’ in here?” Virgil air-quoted. “Yeah I got it. Web design isn’t exactly my medium but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excellent. We can discuss commissioning and creative content at a more convenient date.”

Virgil and Logan came over to where they all were and Patton greeted his brother in the usual fashion. With a big bear hug.

“Hey kiddo! Good to see you,” he said.

“He Pat,” he said, one arm hugging him back. Patton was the only person Virgil let hug him. “You really need to stop calling me ‘kiddo’ in public. My order ready yet Thomas?”

“Should be five more minutes. Lucky we just dunked some mozzarella sticks in the grease fryer,” said Thomas.

“Patton kindly retrieve some more olives and maraschino cherries from the back storage,” Logan said to Patton. “You seem to be running low on them. Then promptly return to your duties.”

Patton turned back to the bar and, yes, he was low. Woops! Guess he’d let himself be too distracted. Logan was a really fair and nice boss (and their friend, although he’d never admit it), but he didn’t like them slacking off. It was easier to stay on top of everything when Roman was there working with him. They made up for each other’s weaker areas, which is why they made such a good team.

Take last night when that big intimidating customer got a little too drunk and started disrespecting those ladies. Patton was no good at confrontation but Roman swooped in like the chivalrous man he was as stopped him. Heck, Patton had slipped up and called him his hero out loud. So embarrassing! Not that someone as perfect as Roman would ever be attracted to plain pudgy tummied Patton. He really was a Disney Prince come to life. Bad Patton! Stop it with those thoughts. You’re taken.

“No problem boss!” said Patton, smiling through his troubled thoughts. “I’m berry happy to do so because I love olive my customers and want them taken care of. It’ll be the cherry on top of my day.”

While Thomas and the nearby patrons laughed or, in Virgil’s case, snickered at his top-notch dad jokes, Logan just groaned. He didn’t quite appreciate the fine art of puns, but Patton had made it his personal mission to make his boss laugh at one.

So far, no luck, but he was persistent.

“That’ll do Patton,” said Logan, breathing audibly through his nose.

“I hate to stem off topic,” said Joan, walking up to them, “but we need more bread baskets for tables 4 and 12.”

“They’re right,” Talyn said joining in. “We’ve gotta make sure the customers stay happy and our tips fruitful.”

Logan squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Good Lord, please—stop. I can barely tolerate the word play from one of you.”

“Well that a-pear-ant,” Thomas said, popping out from the kitchen door to join in.

“Thomas, that’s not even the same fruit!”

“Guess it doesn’t a-peel to the boss man,” shouted one of the other cooks Enrique from inside the kitchen.

“Guys come on. Lay off the poor guy,” said Virgil, serious at first but then he smirked devilishly. “We wouldn’t want him to get a pit in his stomach.”

“GrrAAAGHHH!” Logan marched away from them to his office, flames practically steaming off the side of his face.

They all burst into rib splitting laughter. Sure they all worked together but really everyone at Sanders’ Bar & Grill was like a big, happy, sometimes silly family. He could tell that their customers sensed it too and that’s why they kept coming back here. He just knew it.

After calming down and checking on his customers, Patton went to the supplies room for those cherries and olives. He really did need to stay on top of the bar until Roman got here. Finding himself alone in the semi-cramped room, surrounded only by supplies, pantry goods, and two spare chairs, Patton couldn’t help thinking even more about Roman. Specifically how different his co-worker was from his boyfriend.

Dio was a great dancer, but Roman was a talented actor with a voice like caramel. Dio was charismatic but Roman was charming. Dio was cool and mysterious but Roman cheerful and passionate. Dio was attractive but Roman was downright handsome. What with his red leather jacket and black work t-shirt that hugged his strong protective arms just right, his chestnut hair, chocolate brown eyes, dashing smile and perfect soft looking lips…

No! Stop thinking about another mans lips. You’re happily taken. Was he really happy though? He hardly ever laughed with his boyfriend anymore. Sometimes Dio even seemed to laugh at Patton only to convince him otherwise. Plus they hadn’t exactly been intimate in a long time. Only cuddles during the rare movie night at best, and even them they felt halfhearted. Sure they were both busy with work, but Patton at least tried. It was like Dio wasn’t even really there with him half the time...but he was still a loyal partner. Dio never looked at another man besides him. Surely that meant he still cared and found Patton attractive. Maybe it’s just a bump in the road. We’ll get over it. This was the longest relationship Patton had ever been in, his first serious boyfriend, and that was worth staying for, right?

…So then why did he still dream about being with the creative, cheerful, and romantic Roman Prince?

Patton vigorously shook his head. He reached into his apron pocket for his half open bag of mini chocolate chip cookies. He always kept some in there in case he or anyone else at the bar & grill needed cheering up. He treated himself to two cookies; the sweets already perking him back up. Then he grabbed the jars he needed and went back outside, only to find Roman now talking with Virgil. He must have arrived while Patton was in the back. He couldn’t help the flutter in his tummy at seeing the handsome actor/bartender. Couldn’t stop the smile that climbed up the corners of his cheeks like grapevines reaching for the sunshine. Patton was so enchanted by and happy to see Roman that, as he rushed over to greet him, he tripped on a chair.

“Woah!” Ohnothejars! The face-plant crash and shattering of glass never came. Roman had dashed over and caught him beforehand. Being heroic really was second nature to him, wasn’t it?

“Careful there Patton,” said Roman, his face concerned. “I know you get excited but I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Whew! Thanks Roman. I guess you just caught me off guard.” The toothy smile Roman gave him was enough to turn Patton’s insides into goo.

“Ehh you didn’t miss much Patton. Sir sing-a-lot here just burst into the bar like his usual dramatic self practically shouting that—

“Oh no you don’t emo-nightmare! Only I get to tell Patton my good news.”

“What news?” he asked, setting down the jars. “Does it have to do with your audition last night? How’d it go?”

“Well as general guy-liner here just heard—

“Along with everyone else in Florida—

“I GOT CAST AS TOM COLLINS!”

Patton gasped with glee, unable to stop himself from attack hugging him. “CONGRADUALTIONS! Roman I’m so proud of you! I just knew you’d get cast.”

Patton savored the sensation of Roman hugging him back, strong arms wrapped around his waist. When Roman let go, he was more disappointed at the loss of touch than he probably should have been. Roman was scratching the back of his neck, and if Patton didn’t know any better, he’d say the other man almost seemed bashful.

“Thanks Patton. That really means a lot to me,” said Roman.

“Guess you’ll be busy talking off your cast’s ears from now on Prince Underarm Stink,” Virgil grimaced.

Roman turned to him serious faced. “Don’t feel too sad, Brad Pit-iful. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to spread your snarky doom and gloom to.”

The two glared at each other for a few seconds, but then laughter spilled out from smirks. Patton smiled at his brother and co-worker. The two had definitely come far from when they first met a year ago. They’d started out as quite the prickly pair, which wasn’t surprising since they were so different. The big icebreaker happened when learned their shared love of Disney. After that they put away their claws, warmed up to each other, and became thick as thieves. It made Patton happy to see them get along. Plus Virgil now had someone who shared the same sarcastic humor that he did.

Just then Thomas popped his head out the kitchen window. He was carrying a brown paper to-go bag. “Order up Virg. Mozzarella sticks with a side of ketchup.”

“Thanks Thomas,” said Virgil, taking the food. The cook then disappeared back to the kitchen.

“Now kiddo, I really wish you would order one of our salads from time to time,” he said, crossing his arms. “You can’t live off of just mozzarella sticks for long.”

“That’s the plan Pat. A quick and cheesy death.” Patton knew his stepbrother was joking, but he didn’t find it funny. His face must have said as much. “Kidding! I promise. Anywho, I gotta split. This mural isn’t going to finish itself.”

“I’ll be invited to the grand reveal I hope?” Roman asked carefully.

Virgil fidgeted with the zipper on his hoodie but said, “Uh…sure Princy. So long as I get good seats to your show.”

“Done and done! Thanks Virge.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously.” He reached into the bag, grabbed a streaming mozzarella stick and stuck it between his teeth. “Later.”

As soon as he was out the door the anxious artist slipped his headphones back on and broke into a run. Patton watched through the glass of the windows as Virgil flipped over the sidewalk bench. Hardcore parkour.

“I’m so excited for you about the play Roman,” said Patton as they both returned to the back of the bar.

“Yes, I am truly excited to start rehearsals, although it will take time out of my bartending schedule,” said Roman, tying on his apron. “I might have to cut back on my shifts, especially when the tech week and show dates get closer.”

“Oh…” That meant he wouldn’t see Roman as much. The thought made Patton too sad for words.

“It would only be for a couple months,” Roman said quickly. “And I’ll only have rehearsals two or three nights a week until then. So I’ll still be here with you the rest of our shifts.”

‘Here with you’. Patton liked the sound of that. “Great. I’m really glad about that.”

“I’ve already spoken to Logan when I came in. He’s going to have his cousin to fill in for my shifts on the nights I’m rehearsing. So you won’t be left hanging.” Roman placed a strong yet gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’d never do that to you Patton.”

The touch sent a warm shiver through Patton’s body, reawakening the butterflies in his tummy. Here Roman was, taking on a new responsibility on his journey towards his dreams of stardom, and he was worried about Patton. It made him feel so special. He placed his hand over Roman’s.

“I know you wouldn’t Roman. After all we’re…work partners,” he said, trying to smile more happily than he felt.

“Right. Of course.” They broke contact. “Well, let’s get to it…partner. We’ve got thirsty customers to attend to.”

“Hi-ho, it’s off to work we go.”

Roman smiled at him. Then they got back to taking orders and building drinks for their loyal customers. At he poured drinks and shook the shaker, Patton stole glances at Roman. Even though it wasn’t the work he wanted to be doing, Roman still threw himself into the task with flair and fervor. Just like how he did with every task he was faced with. It was something that Patton admired most about the man. Dio was equally creative in a different way, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Roman’s passion for just about everything!

…But he was loyal. Very. And he never did or said a bad thing to him ever. Patton couldn’t betray that by have feelings for someone else. It would be like cheating on him, even if just emotionally. Besides, even if Patton didn’t have a boyfriend, Roman was way out of his league! He was strong, charming, sweet, talented, and super-duper handsome. He could have any guy he wanted. As for Patton, well, at best he got called ‘cute’. Every guy, girl, and non-binary person he’d every had a crush on said so. It was a miracle that Dio had even given him two looks. To hope that Roman ever would see him as more than that, to feel more for him, was just fantasy.

Patton reached into his pocket for another cookie and took a nibble.

Oh Roman…What would a handsome prince like you ever see in a plain old pop-er like me?

NEXT-->

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[grrrenadine]

Monthly Media: March 2017

I watched waaay too many movies this month (partly because I worked at the Moscow Irish Film Festival and could attend the screenings for free). 

……….MOVIES……….

Perfect Strangers / Perfetti sconoscuitti (2016)

Apparently a huge hit in Italy and now Russia (of all places), the movie concerns a group of friends who decide to make all their texts and phone calls public for the duration of a dinner. What follows is...kinda predictable: there’s a lot of infidelity on all sides and one guy is gay. Ah, the dark secrets we harbor.

The Night Before (2015)

A modern drug-fueled retelling of “The Christmas Carol” — unlikely to become a holiday classic, but subversive enough to feel like a breath of fresh air among similar comedies. When the film moralizes it does so in a way that doesn’t feel trite; and when shit goes down, it’s never mined for excessive drama. Also, I really enjoyed all the surreal elements thrown into the mix.

Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016)

There’s a good litmus test to see whether this movie is for you: can you see yourself watching 20 Lonely Island videos in a row? If yes, then this is your jam! The plot is generic, but for most the film (catchy) music, (delightful) cameos and (absurd) hijinks take center stage. Personally, I loved it — it’s a funny, spot-on spoof of the music industry and celebrity culture, and it holds genuine affection for its characters which means that, in the end, so do you.

The Skeleton Twins (2014)

Centered around two siblings with a twin bond of (I guess) depression, this is a pretty cliched dysfunctional-family indie dramedy with only brief flashes of excellence. I feel like the film would have been way better if it heightened the comedic elements and stopped taking itself too seriously, but alas.

Handsome Devil (2016) 

The LGBT movie about friendship we’ve all been waiting for! (No, seriously). With a plot centered around a closeted moody jock, a sarcastic eccentric outsider, and the threat their camaraderie poses to the school’s rugby team (....yeah), this movie is sweet, inspirational, keen to stress the importance of hobbies, and set in a fantasy world where all people can come to compromises and understanding. My one complaint: too chaste!

A Date for Mad Mary (2016) 

Female protagonists who are flawed and three-dimensional are a rarity. Female protagonists who are also allowed to be funny and tough and genuine screw-ups are a treasure — and so is this movie, a tale of a small-town girl trying to outgrow her bad reputation amidst a crisis of friendship and a discovery of sexual identity. Painfully familiar and ten kinds of wonderful.

Traders (2016)

Part “Fight Club”, part Black Mirror’s “Shut Up & Dance”, yet lacking the energy and black comedy of either, this critique of capitalism and masculinity has its themes undermined by the repetitive plot, droll execution and the protagonist’s remarkable unlikeability. Filmed in varying shades of grey and set in and around pub toilets and waste-grounds, it’s dark and depressing — to the point of being blegh instead of bleak.

The Young Offenders (2016)

Sitting comfortably at the crossroads of road movie, black comedy, crime film and coming-of-age, this film still feels like its own thing instead of a mishmash of influences. The characters are all odd and lovely, the relationships have a degree of nuance to them, and the coastal Irish landscapes are a beautiful bonus.

Sing Street (2016) 

 A story of a boy putting together a band to impress a girl and falling in love with music in the process, with really cool catchy songs harkening back to the various sub-genres of 80s alterna-rock. Kurt Vonnegut once said that the function of the artist is to make people like life better than they have before; well, the sheer beauty and youthful enthusiasm of the movie made me feel like I was 15 all over again and ready to conquer the world.

The Siege of Jadotville (2016) 

The (real-life) plot is the single best things about what is basically no more and no less than a solid war movie. There’s also refreshingly little in terms of violence or shock value, and a mustachioed Mr Grey Jamie Dornan proves he can be a charismatic actor when the script lets him.

Once (2006)

Two kindred souls meet on the streets of Dublin and start making music together, all the while pining quietly for each other. The film’s a very low-key affair in both style and tone, and works magic precisely due to its lo-fi vibe.

Tiger Raid (2016) 

You know The Alleged Car? The one that lacks half its parts while simultaneously having a bunch of superfluous parts and is old and smelly and clunky, yet soldiers bravely on? This movie is like that. It’s a claustrophobic pileup of bad dialogue and bizarre plot twists that somehow, miraculously, works — and by the time twist #3 or 4 rolls around, you feel like you’re on a journey worth taking. (P.S. please don’t read the plot summary on Wikipedia; you’ll only end up confused).

Clerks (1994)

A comedy of (funny, effortless, naturalistic) dialogues, it follows a mundanely eventful day in the lives of two young deadbeat friends who work at a convenience store and a video rental. Tastefully black-and-white (due to budget constraints, but who’s counting), endlessly quotable, oozing with sincerity and filled with oodles of quirky characters, this is something that is very 90’s yet still able to hold up after all these years. Like the “Pulp Fiction” of comedies!

South (2017)

I can just see the screenwriter of this film going for a bathroom break and never returning: the lack of resolution to the relatively simplistic plot (boy wants to conquer his stage fright, put his moves on a girl and set things straight with runaway mum) can only be attributed to laziness. The film’s short and sweet, yes, and the actors are charming — but it’s hardly a filling work of cinema. In fact, it barely qualifies for light dessert.

The Evil Dead (1981)

This movie was incredibly low-budget even for its time, and it shows — but, in an odd turn of events, the DIY charm and datedness add to the appeal rather than detract from it. Every aspect of this film— from the inventive camerawork to the goofy plot to the corny acting to the colorful cartoony gore — somehow works towards making an enjoyable, cohesive whole. The ill-advised tree rape scene notwithstanding, this is truly great stuff (...not for the squeamish, though).

T2: Trainspotting (2017)

Do you let go of your past or do you confront it? Mark Renton & co. can’t decide and neither can this film. Nostalgia is a tricky thing, and it’s key to both the plot and the appeal of a sequel that doesn’t really hold up on its own but is, nonetheless, a very solid, logical continuation of the 90’s classic. So what’s a fan to do? Choose old movies. Choose new movies. Choose life.

……….TV……….

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (season 12)

First off: this season has been a blast. Few other shows have been on air this long and stayed this good. There were a couple of exceptional episodes (one of them written by Community’s Megan Ganz! Woo!) and even the duds weren’t that bad. However, the season finale has me anxious for the show’s future — and the fact that Sunny can actually provoke such a strong emotional response in me is a testament to how much I love it.

Documentary Now! (season 1)

A mockumentary show starring Bill Hader and Fred Armisen, it’s an anthology of “affectionate parodies” in a variety of genres and stylistic approaches to tackling the material. It’s funny and fascinating even when you don’t know jack about the stuff they’re referencing — all because the stories, characters and emotions feel real. Genius! (P.S. My favorite episode of the lot is “A Town, a Gangster, a Festival”, and I recommend you start with it to see whether the show’s your thing or not).

……….BOOKS……….

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul (Douglas Adams, 1988) 

A plot that’s barely there, jokes that keep coming at breakneck speed, weird characters, weirder puns, interdimensional travel, magic, science, amusing injuries. In short, classic Douglas Adams. (This was actually his last book before he died. RIP.)