#i am pretty damn proud of a lot of these song transitions. finally found the perfect way to loop it back around to the beginning

[loremaster]

[spoilers for the entirety of rain code]

here it is again. my sad sad playlist about a relationship that never was. I shared it a while back, but actually, i have been continually updating and tweaking this over the past several months. all the songs are in narrative and thematic order. I may be insane. join me on this lovingly, meticulously curated adventure. together we will drown the world in our tears. 😊💔

I have borrowed exactly one song each from @yakool-foolio and @seth-burroughs 's playlists; I have allowed myself the small caveat "it's ok if I already knew this one song." but only one song bc i do still want to go listen to playlists that are not mine lol. yall have good taste in music 👌

there are also several songs that are no longer on this playlist just because they didn't fit this specific narrative flow. those have all been moved to my boba au playlist which I have not shared yet. 🤐

enjoy! if you see me still shuffling the song order around while you're listening... no you didn't

[ashesonthefloor]

baby, you’re a haunted house (ot4)

summary: Michael really wants to go to Sydney’s most famous haunted house. He may or may not get super startled by one of the actors, and may or may not hit them in the nose by accident. And, after that, he might keep coming back to to try and apologize properly. And the haunted house might just have a never-ending supply of cute guys working there. (That’s a lie. There’s only three he cares about). ao3 found here

prompt:  “I’m working as an actor in a haunted house and when I scared you, you punched me in the nose. Now I’m bleeding and someone had to get me an ice pack, and you won’t stop apologizing. You’re lucky you’re cute” (except i changed the POV because i wrote the prompt and i can do what i want thank u <3)

word count: 12,433 

content warning: blood! there is nothing too graphic, but, as depicted in the prompt, someone is accidentally hit, and there is a nosebleed. it is all handled and fine, though, and it isn’t too detailed. lots of pining :)

A/N: whew! i’ve worked on this baby for the last two months and only just finished her this week but i am PROUD! i actually really love the way it came out, and my plot! please let me know what you think, i’m a slut for feedback! this was done for my sexy, sexy halloween event that is happening right now! massive shout out to @mikeycliffords​ and @glitterblazercalum​ for beta’ing this! maddie ur comments gave me endless validation and i adore u, and iba u caught all my sexy grammatical errors and i love u for it (and ur reaction to luke’s major <3). and to both @calumcest​ and @clumsyclifford​ for having to listen to me scream and not know what i was writing. unfortunate shoutout to Mr. Gerard Way for the vibey Halloween song i named this after. baby, you’re a haunted house slaps.

Michael loved Halloween. He was pretty sure it was his absolute favourite holiday, and would say that to almost anyone who dared to ask, though most people who knew him knew not to. It was in Fall, so it was nice and chilly, and he had an excuse to bundle up in hoodies and stay there until spring. And he was an absolute slut for horror movies of any sort. He absolutely adored them, no matter how cheesy and poorly-produced. If he had any talent in it at all, he said fairly regularly to his few friends, he’d be an SFX artist. But he didn’t, and he was stuck working as a barista and getting his degree in film studies. 

So when his best friend in the whole fucking world landed a job working with Sydney’s infamous haunted house - known for being realistic, and terrifying, and all the makeup being technically perfect - and invited him to come see it, insisted he can get him in, who was he to say no? He absolutely couldn’t refuse - didn’t even want to, and he’d wanted to go for years, so this was the opportunity of a lifetime - and that was that. It was most of his favourite things all rolled up into one, with the bonus of it being sort of exclusive. Because it was so well known, they always ended up having to open a month early, and the line still wrapped halfway around the block every night. Michael was going to get a backstage pass to all sorts of shit. 

He dressed fairly warm for the occasion, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough yet to justify it, with his hoodie on, oversized so he could cover his hands with the sleeves. Sue him, okay, it was comfortable and warm and he liked tugging on the sleeves or his hoodie strings when he was anxious. Not that he ever wanted anyone to know he’s anxious. Michael worked fairly hard on keeping that part hidden away, so no one else could ever see it. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, exactly. He just...didn’t want anyone knowing. It took level eleven Michael friendship to unlock his insecurities, thank you, and even then, there weren’t many he'd really disclose.

Sydney never got properly cold, so the hoodie was more than enough to keep him warm in the chilly end-of-September breeze. He made his way to the haunted house, queuing up in the line with the rest of the people preparing for the best fucking scares of their lives. 

The waiting process was the worst part of the whole thing. It was just him standing by himself in line, bouncing slightly on his heels every so often and worrying with his sleeves, from excitement, nerves, and maybe it was actually slightly chilly for once. He texted his friend a few times, only to get no reply. He frowned at his phone after twenty minutes of trying with no success. He was supposed to come get Michael at some point. If he was waiting to show him around at the end, wouldn’t he want to know which group he’d be in, or when he was going through the haunted house? Or at least answer him and tell him what his plan was? Apparently fucking not, though, since he made it up to the front without a single stupid text.

His jitters weren’t helped at all by that, but he eventually just jammed his phone into his hoodie pocket and hoped it didn’t fall out in the house. Michael and the people around him were finally let into the haunted house and given the long list of instructions. It was all the usual shit, that everything inside was fake, and to keep that in mind. To remember that the actors were just actors. And to go over the last few warnings - like that the actors would jump out, target people to scare them, ask questions, and generally, you know, act. Everyone agreed to the rules with varying degrees of excitement, and then they were all corralled into the waiting area. 

Michael was back to bouncing slightly in place, hoodie sleeves fully over his hands at this point. The decorations weren’t too scary yet, just meant to keep the haunted mansion theme going. The premise was something about a doctor and his torture chamber and all his patients gone wrong or something. Michael has forgotten a couple of the details, but he remembered the gist of it. He couldn’t make out anything specific, really, not through the awful dim lighting and the light fog rolling in close to the ground, thanks to the hidden fog machines, only adding to the chill in the cold building. 

One of the women in front of him was murmuring quietly to her boyfriend, gripping tightly to his hand. She didn’t seem much like she really wanted to be there. Michael hoped, for her sake, she’d remembered the safe word. Which was a nice touch, making sure everyone could yell it if needed. That rule was burned into his brain: if you yelled the safe word - mercy - any actor nearby would drop their act and escort you to the nearest exit, and you would absolutely not be allowed back in. Michael wanted to make sure he remembered it, but this was practically a once in a lifetime chance, and he really didn’t want to blow it. 

Finally - finally - they were allowed into the actual haunted house. The first room wasn’t too bad, just the doctor guy’s living room with some narration about who he’d been and a little about his ‘abominations’. Michael got enthralled in the story pretty quickly, gaze lingering on the (fake) family portraits on the (equally fake) mantle and on the walls. 

Room two brought a couple of scares, but he still wasn’t doing too badly. They were easily moved from room to room, sticking together in a clump. When the narration ended, basically, that was their cue to move on. Or for some sort or scare to jump out. 

But, of course, the greatest horror house in Sydney wouldn’t stay predictable. After room number three, the smooth transition was broken up by a long, dark corridor, with the sides pressing in on everyone as they went through. Michael curled in a little on himself, shuffling forward so close to the next person in line that he accidentally stepped on their heels. They didn’t even have time to be annoyed before they were in the next room. 

After room number four was worse. They went down an equally dark staircase, Michael’s grip on the handrail white-knuckled, pale skin almost luminous even in the pitch black. He shuffled forward once he managed his way down, unable to see anything, but didn’t bump into anyone. Which was...odd, given how tightly packed they’d all been up to this point. He took a gamble and swallowed his pride, sticking both arms out and stumbling forward, completely blind in the dark. Only then did the awful strobe light kick on above him, even fucking worse than the dark. He only got vague glimpses of where he was, and he couldn’t even see anyone around him in whatever room he was in. Fucking great, he had the best fucking luck in the entire world. Which he mumbled to himself as he continued his blind zombie-shuffle forward until his outstretched hand brushed a wall. Finally. 

He kept that palm pressed against the smooth (fake) stone, moving in one direction he chose to believe was forward. He was pretty sure it was the opposite direction from the staircase, at least. Hopefully he’d make some progress that way. This was so fucked. Where had his group gone? He was very, very sure he’d been with them. They’d filed down the staircase with him, hadn’t they? Where the fuck were they? Where the fuck was he? This certainly seemed like a fucking dungeon. 

He kept going until the shadows seemed to stay in one corner. He stretched out his unoccupied left hand, fingers brushing against another wall. He let out a frustrated groan, quiet and under his breath, even though he was pretty damn sure he was alone. He pressed his hand against it, palm against the cool stone, and he felt it open with a soft click. And he really didn’t care what was on the other side, he just wanted out of the stupid fucking strobe lights. 

And, of course the strobe lights turned off as he stepped towards the open door. His luck was so fucking perfect today, wasn’t it? 

He stepped through the hidden door (or whatever it was, Michael really didn’t care at this point), letting it slowly close behind him with the same soft click that definitely wasn’t ominous at all. This room, at least, wasn’t completely pitch black. There were lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and fake torches along one stone wall, that provided dim lighting. He skirted over to the side of the dungeon that was lit, gaze lingering on the shadowy side. His eyes still hadn’t really adjusted to the lighting, still absolutely fucked up from the stupid fucking strobe light. He would enjoy this a lot more if he knew this was intentional - if it was intentional - or if he was with his fucking group. Sue him, okay, maybe this shit was slightly better with company. 

He heard something shift from the direction of the door, gaze sliding over there. The room really wasn’t that open, and was pretty small in size. He felt something brush his left shoulder and jumped, stumbling forward toward the shadowy side of the dungeon room - backward, now, maybe, since he definitely whirled around to look at whatever the fuck had poked him, only to find nothing but the stone wall. What the fuck was this fucking place? He knew that wasn’t a bat. Maybe it was a bat? He really, really didn’t know. 

There was a weird sound from the shadowy side of the dungeon, which he was way, way closer to, now. He turned to look at it, only to flinch back when something lunged at him, snarling. Michael whirled around to look and let out an absolutely dignified shriek, reacting entirely on instinct, which was the only reason he realized, seconds too late, that that horrifying crunching noise had been his fist colliding with the thing’s nose. 

The thing, that he was now realizing, was an actor, chained to the wall with long chains. They’d made the noise earlier, scraping against the floor, as the actor had shifted. Probably. “Oh, fuck,” Michael said automatically, eyes widening. His knuckles fucking hurt, sure, but he was more focused on the poor actor. 

The makeup was, as promised, spectacular. He was a half-turned werewolf, shirtless and covered in gruesome patches of fur and deep, gory claw marks. He had some sort of fangs in, too, and weird orange contacts that definitely made him look feral. What Michael was most focused on, though, was the blood dripping from his nose that was definitely not stage makeup. 

The actor had a small frown on his face, two fingers coming up to gently touch his nose. He let out a soft hiss, frown pulling more at his lips. “Damn,” he murmured. 

“Oh, fuck,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. “Oh, fuck. Dude, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t- I’ve never hit someone before in my life, I don’t know what the fuck-“

The actor shook his head. “It’s alright. It happens.” He gave him a small smile, one corner of his lips pulling up, before it dropped right back into a frown. Probably aggravated his injured nose. That Michael had done. Fuck. “Hazard of the job, you know? I told them not to activate the strobe lights and then put a jump scare after them. They make people jumpy since they fuck with your vision. They put people on edge. And then to have someone jump at you out of the dark….” He just looked sort of amused. Vindicated, too, maybe. “I figured it would happen at some point. I just got lucky until now, I guess.”

“Fuck, I’m so….I don’t even…..I’m so sorry,” Michael said again, brows drawing together. He really hadn’t meant to. Had he made that clear enough yet? He hadn’t meant to. His panic wasn’t helped by how fucking cute the werewolf was. 

The werewolf just ran a hand through his brown curls, pushing them back out of his eyes. “It’s alright. Really. It happens.” He eyed Michael, amusement in his eyes despite Michael’s clear panic. “I’m Ashton, by the way.”

Michael felt like he was still a few steps behind. Shouldn’t the werewolf be mad at him? Or kicking him out of the haunted house or something? “Oh. Uh. I’m Michael.” Ashton was a pretty name. And Michael was pretty sure it suited him, since it was clear Ashton was pretty attractive, even under all the makeup. And the blood. His nose was definitely bruised.

Speaking of his bloody nose, Ashton pressed two fingers right below it again, frowning as they came away covered in blood. “Well, Michael, you can definitely pack a punch.” He looked almost amused again before it gave way to concern. “Are you okay?”

Michael’s internal monologue still hadn’t shifted from ‘fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck.’ on loop in his head, so it took him a second to register the question. He still felt like he was short circuiting, adrenaline from the scare and the acute embarrassment immediately after still tingling up his spine and all the way to his shaking hands, fingers trembling a little where they were uncovered by the hoodie sleeves. “Wha- me? I’m- yeah? Fine, I- yeah, uh, think. I think, I mean. I mean I am, I’m fine. Okay. Yeah. Good.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer. Michael was pretty sure he could hear his own heartbeat, too loud and too fast, echoing in his ears. Not loud enough to cover the unsettling scrape of metal against stone as Ashton’s chains moved with him. He focused on breathing, pretty sure he’d stopped for a second, inhaling the stale taste of the synthetic fog, permeating through the entire building, though the air lacked the telltale haze of a fog machine, and the equally stale, dank smell of the room itself. It was grounding, sort of. He was definitely not freaking out, though. Not at all. Not with Ashton right in front of him now, gaze fixed on him, Michael’s right hand still tingling, knuckles still aching. This definitely wasn’t social anxiety nightmare fuel. He was definitely perfectly fine.

Ashton reached for Michael’s hand, Michael numbly letting him take it, unable to do much more than watch. Ashton leaned forward a little, chains scraping again against the floor to make the worst sort of unholy noise, grating on Michael’s frayed nerves, thankfully on the edge of what he was paying attention to. He was too focused on how warm Ashton’s hands were, fake blood splattered over them like he was supposed to look like he’d been clawing at himself. “You’re bruised,” Ashton said, inspecting Michael’s knuckles where they’d made contact with Ashton’s nose. “Or, you will be, at least. You didn’t hit as hard as you could have, so I think you’re okay.”

With Ashton tilted forward, it was easier to see that he was definitely still bleeding - which, fucking duh, it hadn’t been that long since he’d punched him - dripping slowly but steadily onto the floor. Noticing Michael’s gaze, probably, Ashton took a few steps back out of Michael’s space, head still tilted forward a little. He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, giving Michael what was probably supposed to be a lazy half smile. 

“Should you- do you need help?” Michael asked lamely. It was a pretty fucking stupid question, since he’d literally just punched Ashton in the nose. And he was bleeding.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Ashton said, as calm and collected as he’d been the whole time. And fantastic, at least one of them was. “I’d go tell someone, but I’m a little bit stuck.” He raised his free hand, chains rattling a little bit. “I’m actually chained to the wall. Someone comes by and lets me out between every couple groups or every couple hours so I can use the bathroom and grab a drink and all that shit. I can’t get myself out on my own.”

“Oh, fuck.” Michael frowned. “That seems like a pretty big fuckin’, like design flaw. Who the fuck came up with that?”

Ashton laughed, short and sweet before he cut himself off, probably because his nose hurt. Which sent a jolt of regret and embarrassment through Michael. “There’s a lot of stuff like that for the sake of ‘authenticity’. Don’t tell anyone I told you, they’d have my head. I don’t mind too much, though. Only lasts two months every year, and it’s fun. Well, except for the occasional scare that goes too well.” He gestured at his face to prove his point, smile tugging slightly at his lips again before it dropped.

Michael didn’t get a chance to reply before someone came in, freezing at the sight of Ashton slightly tipped forward, nose still dripping, but much slower before, and Michael standing stiff and shocked in place. “Oh, fuck,” the stranger said, echoing Michael’s sentiments. “What the fuck happened?” 

“Well, Michael here got so startled when I jumped out that he hit me.” Ashton answered for the two of them. “We’re all good, he didn’t mean to. He’s been keeping me company.” He winked at Michael, making Michael’s face heat up, especially noticeable in the gloomy chill of the fake dungeon room. 

“Fuckin’ hell, man,” the strange guy said, immediately moving forward to free Ashton from the stupid chains. “So, you mean, the same shit you kept saying was gonna happen, happened?”

Ashton let out some sort of noise that was probably meant to be a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much exactly.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the stranger said again, succeeding in freeing Ashton. He leaned in close to look at his nose, frowning. “Well. You definitely need to be cleaned up. You’re out of commission for tonight, we’ll just leave the room empty and the supervisors can suck my dick. Come on, let’s clean you up and get you an ice pack or something, and you can sit down for a while.” He wrapped an arm around Ashton, hand splayed out in the middle of his back. They were clearly comfortable with each other, and had the easy familiarity of close friends. Or something. The stranger nodded his head at Michael. “You, uh, Michael, was it? You can come with us, we’ll get you out.” He paused. “Unless you want to finish the house..? But I’m gonna take a wild guess and say probably not, after that.”

Michael startled a little at being addressed, temporarily forgetting he had a corporal form. “Oh. Uh. No, not really. I”m- that was enough, I think.”

The stranger nodded his head. “Makes sense. You kind of got separated from your group, it looks like. Usually people are in groups of two and three. You sort of had shitty luck tonight, huh?” He said it kindly, though. Like he was sympathetic. “My name’s Calum, by the way.”

“He’s not usually the responsible one,” Ashton teased, shooting Calum an amused look, only making Calum roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Ashton. You’re always Mr. Responsible. That’s why we’re going to patch up your boo boo.” Calum patted his back consolingly, shooting Michael a grin. “So is this your first time here?”

Michael glanced up, fingers pausing mid-tug where he’d been fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Uh. Always wanted to come but it’s hard to get in and last year I got stuck closing most days and couldn’t make it early enough.”

Calum nodded, like it was a solemn affair, or he was thinking. Michael’s ability to figure things out - he was pretty sure it was called perception, but it just proved his point - was absolutely shot through with his adrenaline. He was still waiting for someone to get pissed at him, to kick him out and ban him for life. “It’s a fun place, yeah. I can’t remember if I actually ever went through it before getting to work here and see ‘behind the scenes,’ but we get pretty good reviews.” Calum grinned. “I’d say a bloody nose means you’re pretty fuckin’ scary, Ash.”

Ashton let out a half laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Or people scared shitless and blind in the dark don’t like jumpscares. One of the two.”

Calum had led them through a couple dark, narrow back hallways, clearly meant for the employees, the whole time they’d been chatting. They get to the doorway of a brighter-lit room and hear a woman gasp. “Oh, Ashton! What happened to you? Oh, god, it wasn’t those dicks from last night again, was it? I swear I’ll hunt them down-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ashton consoled, stepping into the room where the woman started fawning over him, leaning up to inspect his face and make sure he was okay. Calum, letting her take over, gently nudged Michael out of view and stepped back into shadow with him.

“Look, Ashton’s a trooper, he’s okay,” Calum murmured, nothing but soothing sincerity in his eyes and coating his voice. “I promise. You seem pretty worried but, uh...The floor managers might not be too happy, you know? We’re missing our werewolf for the rest of the night, so the room will be empty...No one else gives a shit, I promise, I just mean that if you want to come back, you might want to leave before anyone figures it out, you know? Not personal at all.” He gave him a sweet smile that probably would’ve rendered Michael incoherent and weak-kneed any other time, but with his nerves as wired and burnt-out as they were, it only tugged at his anxiety-ridden heartstrings.

“Actually,” Calum continued, tilting his head, “I can get you a ticket or something for another night if you want to do this again.” He gave him a lopsided smile. “You know, as long as you don’t hit another actor again.” Michael assumed he must’ve looked panicked, because Calum was quick to console him. “Hey, hey, I’m kidding. Sorry, too soon.”

“Holy, fuck, Ashton, is that real?” Someone else asked, entering the room behind them.

Calum looked back at Michael, expression apologetic. “I’ve gotta- I’ll have to run damage control, Alisha - the girl - is nice but he’ll need, uh, help. Uh...The exit’s right through there, down the stairs, to the left. If you can get back before we open sometime, cut the line and ask for me. Uh. Calum. That should get you in.” Michael only realized Calum had put a hand on his arm at some point when he squeezed it gently and let go.

With another hasty apology, Calum had to return to Ashton and the whole mess Michael had caused. Michael stumbled on nerve-numb feet through the dark employee back-passageways, hearing the occasional shriek from the haunted house proper. He couldn’t help but berate himself and wish he’d done the entire fucking thing differently. And where the fuck had his friend been? Maybe he wouldn’t have been so nervous to begin with if the fucker had actually texted him back at some point. 

This whole thing had been social-anxiety massive-fuckup nightmare fuel. Seriously, Michael thought as he finally managed to make his way out of the stupid house into the city, shivering in the much-cooler nighttime air, this was going to haunt him for years. Let alone punching anyone in the first place - his hand still sort of hurt, though not a proper hurt, more like the vague ache wrapped in the anxiety-spiking memory of what he’d done - but punching an absolutely gorgeous guy in the face? Fucking hell. Worst thing he could think of.

It was still fresh on his mind as he tucked himself into bed, fresh from a shower as he’d tried to scrub the stupid memory off his skin. He just hoped he managed to actually get over this and it didn’t haunt him forever. Though, he’d been pretty fucking haunted when he’d gone to grab pizza and when the guy had said “enjoy your meal,” he’d said “you too, thanks, mum.” He hadn’t even realized his mistake until he’d gotten outside with his prized pizza. In his defense, he’d been texting his mom, and gotten mixed up. There wasn’t really a defense here.

Fuck. He really hoped this didn’t haunt him.  

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

Well. It haunted him. That first night had really, really sucked. Like...really sucked. It had taken ages to manage to fall asleep after that, since every time he tried, he was painfully reminded of the moment he hit Ashton right in the nose, and how awful that had felt. And everything afterward had just been an anxiety-fueled mess. 

He had class the day after, too, which really fucking sucked, but it meant he didn’t have to sit and dwell on every single mistake he’d ever made in his life. The biggest one was obviously his birth, followed very closely by hitting Ashton. He decided, though, by the end of that day, that he definitely wanted to go apologize again. Just because it hadn’t felt quite like enough just saying he was sorry. He needed to actually prove it somehow. Maybe. Or he was just an idiot. Only time would really tell. 

He got a gift card for the coffee shop where he worked, because he got a discount on it, and everyone liked coffee. Did Ashton like coffee? He really hoped he did. He was still kicking himself for not getting his number so he could make sure he was okay and apologize, but, in his own defense, everything had gone upside-down topsy-turvy really, really fast. 

He got down to the haunted house, still a while before it actually opened. He went straight to the front of the line, remembering Calum’s promise to get him in. Hopefully he could use the advice to apologize properly to Ashton. The guy at the front of the line was kind of a dick towards him, but Michael managed to find a worker in one of the designated t-shirts for the house. 

“Hey, uh, is Calum or Ashton here?” Michael asked, praying he didn’t seem near as awkward as he felt. He just wanted to apologize and leave before he embarrassed himself any further, that was all. Everything was fine. It was fine. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you one of their friends or something?” The guy glanced at him before shrugging. “Calum’s working customer service and merch. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Michael followed the guy into the house, down a hallway that wasn’t super obvious, to what was clearly right after the exit of the house. There was a booth set up, shirts dangling from the top and displayed in the back, along with magnets and other sorts of merch along the table. Calum was sitting behind it, earbuds in, focused solely on his phone. The guy Michael had been following tapped on the table to get his attention, making Calum’s eyes snap up. He grinned over at Michael, pausing his music and tugging his earbuds out. 

“I’ve got to get back to the front, but this guy was asking for you and Ashton. You know him?”

Calum’s smile didn’t dissipate. It didn’t do much to sooth the suddenly overactive butterflies in Michael’s stomach. “Yeah, I do. I’m good, you can go.” The guy nodded and left, leaving Michael alone with Calum. 

“Hey,” Calum greeted, grinning again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back. I was hoping you would. Are you here for the house?” His smile went coy. “Or for me?” He was clearly teasing, but Michael’s face flushed. 

“Uh. I- well. Uh. I came- well, I’m here to apologize. Yeah. To, uh. To Ashton. Again. For hitting him. I mean, by accident. I didn’t mean to.” And wow, way to be smooth. Michael just didn’t know how to function around cute guys at all. Especially not when they sounded like they could possibly be flirting with him, if they were on another planet, where people actually flirted with Michael. 

Calum just gave him another sweet smile, standing and leaning against the table. Michael definitely didn’t pay attention to the way Calum’s back arched, or the way he tilted his head sometimes without meaning to, or how good his jeans looked on him. He didn’t see any of that at all because he was a good person. He just..wasn’t blind. And Calum was cute. “Ashton’s fine. I think he’s working tonight, but I can shoot him a text.” Michael didn’t even have to reply before Calum was pulling his phone out of his back pocket and sending a text, presumably to Ashton. 

“The house opens soon,” Calum continued, “but we’ll see if we can get him up here.” He smiled a little. “You know, after you hit him by accident, they tested out some fake chains. They thought it worked great - until they did a test run, and Ashton broke them when he moved forward. Guess even plastic couldn’t hold up to his upper body strength, huh?” He smiled, eyes squinting a little when Michael flushed darker. Everything was absolutely, perfectly fine. 

Calum’s phone vibrated again and he checked it. “Oh, shit. He’s a bit hung up right now. You want to stick around for a minute and see if he can swing up here? I can give you a bit of a behind-the-scenes tour.” 

Michael considered but nodded. “Yeah, uh. That would be great.” His friend - who still hadn’t fucking gotten back with him, it had been two days, asshole - was supposed to do that when he’d originally come to the house. Better late than never, at least, even if he’d never gotten to actually make it through the haunted house proper. He just had to survive spending time with a super cute guy in the stupidly narrow employee hallways. 

Calum grinned again. “Great!” He slid over the top of the table, knocking a couple magnets to the floor. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I’ll deal with that when I’m back. Come on.” He grabbed Michael’s wrist, his hold warm and gentle, and lightly tugged him towards another hallway. “So what do you want to see first? How we put everything together? How we make a couple of the rooms function? Where we keep all the fog machines?”

“Uhhh……” That was….a lot of options. Michael honestly wasn’t sure where to start. The last comment earned Calum a laugh, short and a little nervous. “Anything?”

Calum nodded sagely, like Michael had made some interesting comment that could be considered, instead of fumbling over his words. “I’ll just start with the basic tour then.”

Calum tugged him into another room, launching into an explanation of how they put it together, and how it matched up with the other rooms in the house. He talked about how they had speakers in each room, and made sure the haunted house genuinely felt like an old rundown mansion with a stone basement. The next room was every bit as interesting, if a bit colder.

“That,” Calum explained, “would be because we keep one of the fog machines in this false wall.” He knocked on it, the sound hollower than a real wall would have made. “It adds to the vibe.”

Michael just agreed that it did, in fact, add to the general vibe of the haunted house, unsure what else to say to that. 

“You know,” Calum said, eyes lighting up a little when he smiled, bright and mischievous, “I’m pretty sure they spent most of the decorating budget on the fog machines. In order to get the light fog in the dungeons, we had to keep one every couple rooms. And then the one in the front room, so people know we’re spooky.” He wiggled his fingers with his free hand, his other hand still warm on Michael’s wrist where he hadn’t let go yet.

Michael laughed, earning another triumphant smile from Calum. “That sounds right,” he said honestly. The basement - or what little he’d seen of it, at least - had definitely been neat, with the very light fog swirling around his ankles. He just hadn’t really made it that far.

And, like Calum was a mindreader, he almost immediately said “Hey, you didn’t finish the house, right? Want to get a tour of the basement? I can show you where I had to use Klorox wipes to get Ashton’s blood off the floor.” Another grin, clearly amused with himself.

“Uh...Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. Being in the presence of a pretty guy did not help him at all, only serving to shut down any critical thinking skills he’d ever had.

“Great! This way-” Calum started to gently lead him out of the room, hand still warm on Michael’s wrist in the chill of the room, before he was interrupted by his phone buzzing. “Fuck, what now?” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, which Michael found impressive given how stupidly tight they were. Calum let out a huff, letting go of Michael’s wrist so he could send a text back. “Fuckin’ hell. I’m gonna have to go.” He gave Michael a look that really looked like apologetic puppy dog eyes, but Calum somehow pulled it off. “We’re letting in the first group soon. I’ve gotta go back to my booth.”

“Oh, shit.” Michael was pretty sure that was the right response. He was still distracted by the smiles Calum had flashed him just moments before. Sue him, his weakness was cute guys, okay? And social interaction. Especially social interaction with aforementioned cute guys. Like Calum.

“I’m sorry. I guess Ashton will be wrapped up in that, too.” Calum frowned, thinking for a moment. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Michael flushed, a natural reply to being asked that by A Cute Guy. “Uh. Yeah. I have class in the morning, but I’m free after.”

Calum grinned again. “Great. Swing by here again? You can ask for either me or Ashton. We’ll get you taken care of, don’t worry.” He winked at Michael, smile still on his face. Michael felt himself flush deeper, praying it wasn’t too visible in the dim lighting of the haunted house.

“Yeah, uh, okay. I can...I can do that.” Maybe he was reassuring himself a little bit. But it would be fun. Calum led him back out of the room, his hand going to the small of Michael’s back, warm even through his hoodie. If Michael’s blush had faded, that brought it back full force. Calum’s hand dropped once they were back in the hallway, but his hand brushed Michael’s on every other step as he led him back to the front, to the area where Calum’s merch booth was.

“Here we are. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Calum asked, expression earnest. He squatted to pick up a couple of the magnets and buttons that he’d knocked to the floor earlier. Michael definitely didn’t glance at his butt, because he was a very nice person, and very good at resisting things. 

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be here.” Michael was completely fucking incapable of going one sentence without stumbling over his words. It was annoying. It was like being near any attractive guy whatsoever made his brain completely short circuit and stop working. He was pretty sure he just suffered from Dumb Bitch-itis or whatever. It was fine.

After a quick goodbye, Michael made his way to the exit and started the walk back home again. He couldn’t say that excursion was really a failure but he still hadn’t done what he’d meant to do. How many cute guys could work there, anyway? That had to be it. So hopefully he’d function properly next time he had to go, even if Calum and Ashton both completely shut his brain down. The gift card was still in his pocket, even as he reluctantly shucked his outside-hoodie to switch to his sleeping-hoodie. At least this time he didn’t have too much to haunt him before he fell asleep.

Except punching Ashton, his brain helpfully supplied. And with that, his hopes for some peaceful sleep went out the window, just like his critical thinking skills had earlier when he’d had to talk to Calum.

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

Michael prayed that this was the last time he’d have to go to the house. He didn’t dislike it, honestly, it was interesting and incredibly well put together. But he really just wanted to apologize to Ashton and have the whole thing be done with. Or, half of him did, at least. He hated when things got drawn out like this, and something hung over his head. He didn’t like feeling like he owed any debts at all. The other half of him, though, kind of didn’t want it to be over. Because then he wouldn’t get to see Calum or Ashton again. And alright, maybe he was a bit of an emotional masochist knowing that they wouldn’t like him but it was...nice, kind of, hanging out with people. And he wasn’t going to complain about getting to hang out with cute guys. Like...ever.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t like he could really be friends with them. He’d fucking punched Ashton right in the face for fuck’s sake. The friendship ship had long since sailed, and he’d lost any chance of talking to him like a functional person as soon as he’d panicked and hit him. Which sort of destroyed any chances he had in befriending Calum. And maybe he was a little bit lonely, and tired of spending all his free time by himself. The cute guys at the haunted house were a no-go, though, so he wanted to be done with them as soon as he could be.

Michael tugged his hoodie back on, and made his way back out into the outside world, where people weren’t so kind, and there were cute boys to accidentally hit and regret your entire life over. He didn’t want to think about having to talk to Ashton again, or Calum, doing his best to save all of his brain power for actually having to socialize, rather than wasting it on indulging his anxiety now.

He cut through the line again, though it was a bit earlier this time, so it wasn’t as long as it had been, and made his way to the front of the house. One of the workers, in the same haunted house shirts he’d see the others in the days before, stopped him.

“I’m here for Ashton?” Michael said, still not entirely sure of himself, like this wasn’t the second time he’d come back to the house and had to ask for them. “Or Calum.”

The girl glanced Michael up and down quickly, seeming to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. And really, why the fuck would he bother lying? He wasn’t even really trying to get into the house, but apologize fully to Ashton so he could hopefully stop being haunted by the memory of his major fuck-up.

“Alright, come on,” she said, turning on her heel and leading him inside. He followed her back through the room Calum had been stationed in the day before, the merch booth left empty, now, no cute guys with equally cute smiles there to drag him through the maze of the house.

The girl led her down a couple hallways Michael definitely didn’t remember, but he really hadn’t been paying as much attention to the hallways of all things the last time he’d been there. But he was pretty sure he didn’t remember any of this. Which was only reaffirmed when she stopped in a doorframe. “Luke,” she called in, hand on the doorframe. “This guy’s asking for Calum and Ashton. I’m busy downstairs. Can you try and track them down for him?” 

Michael could see over her shoulder, but couldn’t see who she was talking to. Luke gave her some form of affirmative, he guessed, because then she was turning back to look at him. “Right. You stay here with Luke. He should be able to find Calum and Ashton. You can wait with him. Good luck.” She turned and headed off back down a couple narrow hallways, leaving Michael more confused than he had been before she’d tried to help.

“Come in, I don’t bite,” came a guy’s voice from the other side of the room. Michael reluctantly shuffled in, already tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. How many times was he going to be shuffled from person to person before he managed to actually give Ashton his stupid gift card and go back to his life of reclusivity, hidden away in his single dorm room. Then he’d finally get to forget how massively he’d fucked up, and not have to think about all the stupidly cute boys that worked at the stupid haunted house.

The room had several chairs set up, with a couple of tables cluttered with a bunch of weird bottles, makeup palettes, and gallons of stage blood. It was empty, except for a girl sitting in one of the chairs, and a guy working on her makeup. He was tall, with ridiculously long legs, and his blond curls pulled back into a small bun, messy, with flyaways wisping around his temples and a couple strands of hair in his eyes when he flashed Michael a quick smile. “Alright,” the guy said, pulling back to inspect his work. “You’re good to go. But maybe try not to fuck up your chest wound next time? It’s not so easy to fix.” She murmured some sort of agreement - and what sounded like an apology - before heading back out, probably to wherever she was supposed to be stationed.

The guy turned to Michael and flashed him a smile, tucking his brush behind his ear and wiping his hands on his thighs before offering one to Michael. “I’m Luke. But, uh, I think you already knew that.” His smile went a little sheepish. Michael just shook his hand, internally cursing himself for having cute boys as a major weakness. Because Luke was definitely cute.

“I’m Michael,” he said, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t yet, and it seemed like the proper time for an introduction. His brain might short circuit a little bit around cute boys, but he didn’t completely forget everything. Usually. Not yet, at least. He was just hoping to keep at least a fraction of his critical thinking skills. So he didn’t end up hitting him in the face, his brain supplied helpfully, even though that had only ever been the one time, and under very different circumstances. It didn’t make him feel much better.

Luke broke into a smile almost immediately, letting out a laugh - more of a giggle, really - that made his nose crinkle. “You’re the guy that punched Ashton,” he said, eyes crinkling a little with amusement. “Holy shit. You’re a legend.”

Michael flushed, feeling his whole face heat up, even though the room was just as chilly as the rest of the haunted house. “Uh. Maybe just a little. The one time.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the ground, suddenly a little nervous. Or...more nervous. Luke was just as cute as the others had been, stray glitter stuck to his hands (and Michael’s palm, now, after he’d shook his hand), and his hair in that stupidly endearing bun. And apparently he knew about the biggest fuck up in Michael’s entire life, which really wasn’t all that good for his already not so fantastic self esteem. 

Luke nodded, still looking only a couple seconds from laughing. “The one time. Yeah. Ashton thought it was hilarious. It worked out, though, he got the rest of the day off, and convinced them to fix his position so it hopefully wouldn’t happen again. Well, I mean, they mostly agreed that he could keep his phone on him as long as it was silent so he could call Calum or something to come get him if something happened. But he counted it as a win.”

 Luke leaned against the table, hip causing a couple bottles to fall over. Luke flushed, pink covering his pale skin, as he rushed to sort everything out, right all of the bottles. He knocked one of them off the table, squatting down to grab it and smacking his head against the edge of the table on his way back up. It knocked the brush from behind his ear, which hit the floor with a quiet clatter. Luke managed to stand up properly, though, his face red, and clearly flustered. “Um. Anyway. So you- Uh.” He shook his head, more curls coming free of his bun and dancing around his temples when he moved. “Ashton wasn’t upset, you’re okay. He’s kind of hard to rattle. Calum and him have been joking about it, mostly. They just didn’t mention you were cute.”

Michael had watched Luke’s moment with the bottles, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he hadn’t wanted to overstep. He’d gotten it sorted, anyway, and his head seemed fine. So he didn’t ask, just watched him with the same slightly cautious expression. Luke’s last sentence threw him off, though, and it was Michael’s turn to flush, staring at Luke a few beats longer than socially acceptable. “Oh, uh- you think- I’m not- I’m pretty, just, you know- uh. Thank you. You’re- the same. Cute. I mean.”

Luke laughed, soft and gentle and warm, meant to be with him rather than at him. Michael’s blush darkened, but he didn’t feel quite so bad about being an absolute idiot. “Thank you,” he said, head tilting a little to the side, smile back on his face. Luke was tall. Taller than Calum and Ashton had been, enough to make Michael aware of the difference. No wonder he’d been clumsy, though he’d seemed to have reclaimed his grace now, lanky limbs seeming only to add to his charm and poise rather than detract from it now that his footing was stable and no bottles were falling on the floor. 

“So why’d you come back, again?” Luke asked, yanking Michael out of his reverie. He’d moved to straighten some of the bottles and makeup palettes cluttered on the table. He glanced at Michael before his eyes shifted back to what he was doing. And yeah, that was definitely stray gold glitter stuck to his hands, front and back. 

“Oh. Uh. I wanted to say sorry to Ashton again. I just...haven’t been able to catch him. Came back yesterday and same thing.” Michael tugged at one of his hoodie sleeves, watching Luke’s long fingers tighten what looked like a tall bottle of latex. And okay, maybe he’d watched a few too many behind the scenes videos of his favourite horror movies, and wasn’t completely brand new to SFX stuff. 

Luke glanced up at him again, interest in his blue eyes and all over his face. His hands paused where they were. “You were here yesterday?”

“Uh. Yeah? I was just with Calum for a while but then he got some text and I didn’t get a chance to see Ashton before I had to leave.” He didn’t know what about that was so interesting, but whatever. At least he wasn’t tripping over his words now and could talk to Luke like a proper functioning human being. 

Luke hummed but didn’t offer an explanation for asking. “Do you want me to do your makeup or something while you wait?” He asked, as random and out of nowhere as anything. 

“What?” Michael asked, brows drawing together again. He was pretty sure Luke hadn’t said what he thought he’d said. 

“Do you want me to do your makeup while you’re waiting?” He repeated, gaze as earnest as ever. He wasn’t lying. 

“I mean, holy shit, yeah,” Michael said, maybe just a tad too eager. Get his makeup done by a makeup artist at the haunted house that had won awards for SFX? Hell fucking yeah! He wasn’t turning that opportunity down. Hopefully it went better than attending the haunted house had. 

Luke beamed, looking absolutely pleased with himself. “Okay, come over here and sit down and I will. Do you want, like, a cut or something? I have a couple spare prosthetic injuries I could use. I know I can’t do the missing eye one on you, you can’t really see in that one. I have a couple of the small claw ones, like I think I used on Ashton? If you want some of those.”

“Uh. Yeah, that works.” Michael made his way over and sat down in the chair, shifting a little bit. He’d never really had his makeup done before, but he was more excited to get to see someone do SFX up close. On him. 

“Can you pull the hoodie off?” Luke asked over his shoulder, starting to sort through his supplies. “I need more space. I can do it right below your collarbone, I think. That’s enough space. With Ashton, I think I slotted some at the top of one of his pecs and then some on his ribs, on his side.” 

Michael flushed but tugged his hoodie off, getting his head stuck in the stupid thing only momentarily, before it was off and he could ball it up in his lap. Luke turned back to look at him, humming softly to himself. He tugged his hair free from the bun, curls falling freely to frame his face, before pulling it right back again. Just like before, curls too short to fit in the bun curled around his temples and his ears. Luke ignored it, stepping closer with the small prosthetic in hand. 

He hummed a little again, eyeing Michael’s collarbones and chest. He tugged the neckline of Michael’s shirt down a little bit, holding the prosthetic up, just below his collarbone as he’d said. “This should work pretty well. Has anyone ever done makeup on you before?” Luke turned to grab something else, probably his adhesive, before turning back and frowning. “It might be easier, since I’ll need both hands for this. You can put it back on afterward, it’ll sit right above your neckline. Right here.” Luke tapped a finger lightly where he planned on putting the prosthetic.

Michael flushed. “Uh. Yeah, okay, I guess.” He really wasn’t used to this. Going shirtless in front of a cute guy? Yeah, that really didn’t happen. Like, ever. He reluctantly tugged his shirt off, though, still not about to turn this opportunity down. The shirt joined his hoodie, both balled up in his lap. He was rewarded with a sweet smile from Luke, before he was surveying the area he wanted to stick the prosthetic, which did little to help Michael’s blush.

“This might be a little bit cold. It’s room temperature, kind of.” Luke started applying the adhesive, completely in Michael’s personal space. “So did you like the house?” He asked, fanning the adhesive with his hand, gaze shifting to Michael’s face. “When you came? Before the thing with Ashton, I mean.”

“Yeah, I did. Uh. I’ve been wanting to come here for years, and I finally got to get a look. I really, really like horror shit, and thought about being an SFX artist but I don’t have the talent at all.” Michael resisted the urge to shift in place, or bounce his leg. He didn’t want to fuck up whatever Luke was doing. “It’s, uh, really well put together. No wonder it’s won awards and shit.”

Luke hummed, tapping the adhesive before grabbing the prosthetic and leaning down, tongue sticking out a little in concentration, as he carefully stuck it down. He held it in place for a moment, pulling back to inspect his work. He moved to grab one of his makeup palettes. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work to pull it together and get everything set up properly. But I can get out of some of it sometimes, since I do makeup.” He grinned at him before starting to add colour to the prosthetic. “You wanted to do SFX?” His gaze flickered up to him again, before again it dropped to what he was doing. “I could always show you some stuff, if you wanted. I’ve been doing it for a couple years, so I think I’d probably be okay at that.”

“Didn’t you guys win something last year for your makeup?” He asked, tilting his head a little bit.

Luke turned pink. “Well, yeah, but that wasn’t just me, that was the whole team. But, um. If you wanted that, I definitely could.”

It was then that it really clicked what Luke was offering. This was a chance for Michael to actually get hands-on experience with SFX and get to see it up close. Not only that, but he’d get the chance to actually do it himself, with someone else’s guidance, and see if he was actually shit at it. And that someone happened to be award winning. And really cute. “Fuck yeah, I definitely want that.” Okay, he needed to curb his excitement. Just a little.

Luke let out another one of his giggles, still working on the colouring of the prosthetic. “Okay. I’m happy to show you. I’ll get your number when I’m done? So we can set up a time?”

Michael definitely didn’t turn pink at that or anything. He was totally suave, totally used to getting cute guys’ numbers, especially while he was shirtless in front of them. Obviously. And maybe that was a little bit of a lie, and this was brand new. And maybe he was a little bit pink. “Uh. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Luke hummed, attention mostly back on the prosthetic. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You said you wanted to do SFX. So what do you do instead?”

“Oh, I’m a film student. I work at, uh, Great Awakenings? The coffee shop a couple blocks down from here on campus.” Michael, again, had to resist the urge to shift around in place. Not because it felt weird, but because he didn’t know what to do with himself, or his nervous energy. He couldn’t even tap his foot or anything on the ground, for fear of fucking up what Luke was doing. 

“Oh, that’s neat! I’m doing philosophy right now. Ashton’s doing English. Focusing on literature, I think. And Calum’s doing psychology,” Luke flashed Michael a bright smile before going back to his work, still carefully adding pigment to the prosthetic. 

“Oh, that’s, uh...pretty cool. What made you choose philosophy?” Michael asked. 

Luke hummed a little to himself. “I dunno. Just thought it seemed interesting. I’m pretty happy doing this, but I don’t know if I can make a career out of it. Or if my skills are even enough to try.” He paused. “I know I’m good enough to work here, I just don’t know about beyond that,” he corrected, fingers stilling where they’d been working. It only took a moment before he was back at it again. 

Michael understood that, honestly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. That’s why I’m in film. I don’t know how far I’ll make it, either,” he said honestly. 

Luke gave him a frown, more adorable than it had any right being. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it, Mikey.”

Michael flushed at the nickname, but didn’t have any time to add anything before Luke was turning around to face the table. “Okay, I just have blood and then I’m done.” Luke grabbed the bottle and a tiny brush, turning around to face Michael yet again. He gave him a tiny smile before he was back to work, tongue poking slightly from between his lips in concentration. 

Luke was pretty. Michael was struggling to think about anything else, even with how desperately he wanted to do SFX, and how much he’d wanted to visit the haunted house. It only took a few minutes before Luke pulled back slightly, surveying his work. Good thing, too, Michael was starting to get chilly. “Okay,” he said, eyes still on the prosthetic, forehead creased slightly, lips pulled into a small pout. He looked thoughtful. Michael refused to admit it was adorable. “I think I’m done.” He gave Michael another smile, nose crinkling slightly with this one. 

Michael’s number one weakness was definitely still cute boys, because his brain short circuited immediately. He was saved from having to say anything, though, when a girl poked her head in the door, knocking twice on the doorframe to get Luke’s attention. “Hey, house’s opening in a few. Stand by in case of any fucked up makeup.” Luke just nodded, and then she left. 

Luke frowned a little at Michael. “Okay, you’ll probably have to go before we officially open and groups start coming through. I might get busy, and we aren’t supposed to have visitors.” Luke chewed at his lip, thinking. “Okay. Uh.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket - Michael didn’t know how he fit anything in his pants pockets, they were stupidly tight and didn’t look all that comfortable - and offered it to Michael. “Give me your number? I’ll text you and figure the whole Ashton thing out so you can say sorry to him or whatever. And then I can show you how to do makeup.”

Michael nodded, taking the outstretched phone from Luke and obediently putting his number in. “That, uh, sounds really great. Thanks, Luke.” He passed his phone back and earned another smile from Luke that definitely didn’t make his stomach flip. Michael went ahead and tugged his shirt  back on, careful not to fuck up his new prosthetic. 

“Okay, sweet. Can you find your way out or do you want me to show you?” Luke asked, as sweet as he’d been the whole time. 

Michael shook his head at the offer, though. “I’m okay. I can get out. Thanks, though. I’ll...I’ll catch you around?”

Luke gave him another smile. “Yeah. See you, Mikey.”

Michael made his way out of the haunted house for the third time, hoodie balled up in his hands despite the evening chill so he didn’t get fake blood on it. And maybe he stopped in front of the mirror once he got home to look at his makeup, stupid grin on his face remembering Luke (and the other cute boys that worked there). And maybe, just maybe, that was the first night since he’d punched Ashton that he didn’t seriously struggle to sleep. 

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

Michael had almost forgotten the whole dilemma, when he woke up to a text from Luke. The phone screen was stupidly blinding in the darkness of his bedroom, and he cursed himself for bothering to check his phone in the first place. To be fair, though, he’d only wanted to see the time - he slept with his phone on do not disturb for this very purpose - he hadn’t expected the text.

Luke H: hey, r u free 2day? :-)

Michael stared at the text, blinking sleep out of his eyes, before he managed to get his brain to function enough to reply. And of fucking course Luke added a nose to his emojis. He might have only met the guy once, but it definitely seemed like a Luke thing to do.

Michael: yeah I should be. y?

Michael didn’t have a chance to even roll over before Luke had replied, phone buzzing again in his hand. Did Luke have nothing better to do? It had to be fucking early in the morning, and Michael’s main priority was going back to sleep. Though, in Luke’s defense, it usually was.

Luke H: no reason

Luke H: can u meet me at that coffee shop @ 1 later 2day? 

Luke wasn’t making any more sense, even with his clarifications. And Michael was way too tired to think too much about his cryptic messages. So he just agreed.

Michael: yeah

His phone buzzed again, seconds after he’d hit send. Did Luke have nothing better to do than text Michael at fucking nine am on a Saturday morning? Didn’t he know how to sleep in?

Luke H: great :-)

Michael tossed his phone to the side with a sigh, resolving himself to being awake way, way too early. This wasn’t usually how he spent his mornings; normally, he slept in until noon if he didn’t have work, and spent the day catching up on homework he didn’t feel like doing during the week, and finished the day with pizza and a few rounds of FIFA. He didn’t usually meet cute boys at the coffee chop, for god knows what reason, and he usually didn’t wake up so fucking early.

The rest of his day passed slowly, starting with two cups of coffee to try and keep himself awake and functional. He could hear his mum in his head, reminding him that nine am isn’t even that early, that most people were already awake and functional by that point. So he just shook his head and told his imaginary mum to piss off, and that he wasn’t most people.

He managed to waste most of the day away until he was already running late to meet Luke. He tugged on a hoodie that he’d only worn once that week, making it objectively cleaner than most of his other ones.

By the time he made it to the coffee shop, he was a couple minutes past one. Which was fine, it was pretty standard for Michael. He never really knew what time it was, but he tried his best. At least he was only a couple minutes late this time. Hopefully Luke didn’t mind too much.

Speaking of the devil, Luke had taken a seat in the corner and, when Michael spotted him, was mid-laugh at something Ashton had said to him. Ashton, who was sitting right next to him, grin on his lips. Oh, fuck. Had Michael just been invited to fucking third wheel them or something? You could third wheel a friendship. Michael knew that, from trailing after a pair of best friends when he was a kid, before he’d just decided to be a loner for the rest of his life. But they seemed awfully cuddly now, too. Maybe they’d just invited him to laugh at him.

Or, the much smaller rational part of his brain pointed out, maybe Luke had invited Ashton since Michael had wanted to apologize to him again and had never gotten the chance. Maybe Luke was just being nice.

Michael just did his best to shove all those thoughts aside. There was no point in freaking himself out now that he was already here. Better to just figure out what Luke had planned and get it over with. Or enjoy it, maybe. Maybe. 

Michael made his way over to their table, awkwardly taking his seat in front of them. Luke turned and gave him a bright, happy smile. “Hey, you made it!” He greeted, clearly pleased. “I went ahead and brought Ashton, I hope you don’t mind. You said you wanted to apologize, and we both think you’re pretty cute, so-” Ashton smiled fondly, but nudged Luke anyway.

“Don’t freak him out right after he gets here,” Ashton chided gently. He gave Michael that warm smile, shifting in his chair. “Hey, Michael. Good to see you again.”

Michael nodded a little, socialization abilities immediately leaving him. “You look good,” he said, before flushing. “No, you don’t. I mean - fuck - I don’t mean that, I mean you look good now that you’re not covered in blood. Or, you looked good then too. Well, not really, because I hit you in the nose-” Michael snapped his mouth shut. “I mean, it’s good to see you too.”

Ashton just laughed, good naturedly, but Michael was pretty sure he was one fuck-up away from them hating him. Still, though, his laugh managed to calm some of that built-up nervousness he was holding on to.

“You look good too, no worries,” Ashton said, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile. 

Michael just nodded a little, steeling himself before he spoke. “I’m, uh. Really sorry about hitting you. I didn’t mean to at all, and still don’t know how I managed to fuck up that badly.”

Ashton gave him another smile. Luke was busy fiddling with one of his curls, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation, if at all. “It’s okay. Really. You didn’t do any lasting damage, and you didn’t mean to. I’m fine now, and it made the managers have to reconsider the position. Besides, it just meant Calum and Luke were a little overprotective for a few days. I’m fine now, but they were worried for a couple days about bruising and possible lasting damage. You should really be apologizing to Luke for having to deal with blood.” Michael must have looked confused, because Ashton continued. “I don’t know why, but it freaks him out. He’s fine with all the SFX shit, he’s okay with gruesome fake injuries and fake blood, but any time there’s real blood? He freaks out.”

Luke abandoned his curl, tucking it behind his ear, to pout at Ashton. “Hey. I just don’t like it.” 

Ashton gave him another stupidly fond smile and draped an arm over the back of Luke’s chair. “I know.” Michael felt like he was third wheeling, again. Which, okay, Ashton and Luke were cute, but he couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped a little. He’d thought they were pretty cute, and he hadn’t deluded himself into thinking anything would happen with either of them. But it didn’t really make it feel much better to realize he was third wheeling.

Sometime into his quiet sulking (which only could’ve lasted a minute or two at most), Calum had come up behind him, because now he was pulling out the chair next to him. Michael was effectively caged in now by attractive guys. Which, okay, was manageable. If his brain would stay functional. At least now he wasn’t third wheeling Luke and Ashton by himself anymore.

“Hey,” Calum greeted all of them, smiling in the way that made his cheeks squish up and his eyes squint. And okay, yeah, Michael definitely needed to get back into the dating world. 

“Hey,” Luke said, brightening a little again at the sight of Calum. “Michael came.”

Calum nodded, giving Luke the same fond smile Ashton had. “I can see that, babe.”

Luke reached his hand across the table, towards Calum. Calum took it, gently squeezing his hand. And fucking great, had Michael gone from third wheeling to fourth wheeling? Was fourth wheeling even a fucking thing? It clearly was, if what he was thinking was correct. Because Calum, Luke, and Ashton seemed awfully fucking close - Calum had just called Luke babe, for Christ’s sake - and he was pretty fucking sure they were all dating. Or involved together in some way. So why fucking bother inviting Michael if they were going to act like that? It wasn’t like he thought it was a date or anything, but it seemed...rude to just be all couple-y with a fourth person there.

“I’ve gotta take a call,” Michael said, and the excuse to step out sounded lame even to his own ears. But it had seemed like they’d been...maybe not flirting with him, but flirty, and he felt pretty fucking awkward fourth wheeling them the way he was doing. So he wanted an excuse to step outside for a moment and breathe. He pushed his chair back, wincing at the noise it made, and awkwardly stumbled outside of the door. The bell above the door chimed as he did, which did nothing for his annoyance. 

He took a few steps to the side, so he wasn’t in anyone’s way if they tried to go into the little coffee shop. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, forgetting his excuse, and completely forgetting that he should probably at least pretend to be on the phone. Even if his phone hadn’t been ringing in the first place.

His melodramatic inner monologue of suffering was interrupted by the stupid bell chiming again. It earned enough of his attention to look up. And none other than Luke was standing there in front of him, apologetic smile on his face. “Hi,” Luke said, making his way a little closer.

“Hey,” Michael said, a little unsure.

“I just, uh...I’m sorry,” Luke said, fidgeting a little in place. His gaze shifted down to his feet, where he was absently scuffing the toe of his converse against his other foot. “I should have warned you about us. We just...it’s still kind of new, telling people, and we all...well, we all thought you were really cute, and I thought the rest of it would be easy if I managed to get you here. But life isn’t really like the movies, and I was kind of a dick to not at least warn you. Ashton said I should have, and he was right. I should have.” 

Wait...what? Michael was left reeling a little. At least he wasn’t fucking crazy, and he’d been right about the three of them being together. Or, that was what it sounded like, at least. But the rest of it? What did Luke mean by them thinking he was cute? What the fuck? Why did Luke have to be so cryptic? “What?”

Michael was pretty sure Luke blushed. He just scuffed his toe against the ground again, before making eye contact. “I’m dating Calum and Ashton. Or, we’re all dating each other. Um...and we thought you were cute. We think you’re cute. And I fucked up and should have explained all of that earlier. So you didn't, uh...get blindsided by it when you got here.”

Well, that was...a lot. And unexpected. “So...is this a date or something?”

Luke shrugged. “It is if you want it to be.”

Michael considered that for a moment. Did he want it to be? He’d never dated more than one person before - hadn’t really dated many people in general, honestly. But he didn’t dislike the idea. He had gotten along with all of them individually pretty well...and they were already established, right? So maybe it would be easier for him to just join that. Maybe. “I think so, yeah.” He nodded a little.

Luke grinned, shoulders sagging a little with relief as. “Great! I’m sure we’ll talk about everything soon. Like, boundaries and limits and telling other people and the future and stuff like that. Ashton and Calum are pretty good about all that.” Luke reached for Michael’s hand, and he took it, letting Luke lace their fingers together. “For now, though, let’s go get coffee.” Luke tugged him back into the coffee shop, a triumphant grin on his lips. Michael couldn’t help the smile he gave him, just as fond as the ones Calum and Ashton had worn earlier. Something about Luke’s happiness was just...contagious and sweet. It made you happy to see him so happy.

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

The relationship ended up working out like a fucking dream. Michael had never felt so supported in his life, and he was pretty sure his boyfriends felt the same way. After the initial coffee date, they’d gotten themselves established, and talked about what they wanted and what they wanted the relationship to look like, and the future, just like Luke had said. And, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the conversation was guided by Ashton.

Telling his mum had arguably been the hardest part, but even that was made a little easier with their support. Answering her questions hadn’t been fun - he’d deflected the over-the-line questions, as anyone else would, and flat out refused anything rude - but they’d gotten it taken care of, and she’d been about as accepting as Michael could have hoped.

As promised, they managed to get Michael a job at the haunted house the following year. One of the managers had gotten fired after the incident with Ashton - not that that had been the cause, but he’d been a massive dick about it, according to Calum and Luke, and it hadn’t been a good look, so he’d gotten canned - which let Calum get a promotion. Ashton was happy to stick with being an actor. As long as, he’d said when they’d broken the news to Michael, stupid grin on his face, no one else punched him in the face. He didn’t want another boyfriend. It had earned him three eye rolls, and three fond smiles, from each of his stupidly indulgent boyfriends.

But it had meant there was an opening for the merch stand, and Michael would get three glowing reviews. So they’d managed to get him the job. And, Calum had reminded them at the time, pleased smile on his face, they had a lot of sway with one of the managers.

So after everything got settled, Michael’s life was the best it had ever been. He had three loving, supportive, wonderful boyfriends, a job he loved, and date night every Friday. Even if he was working, they were happy to come sit and entertain him until he was off. He didn’t feel left out with them anymore, either; after that first time, they’d gotten it sorted, and were quick to comfort and console him.

Ashton never fucking let him live down the way they met, though. He made dad jokes about it as often as they let him - “watch out for Michael, he packs a punch,” “ah, Michael’s got quite the feisty personality,” “Michael’s really got a nose for this sort of thing. He fucked up mine, so it’s only fair, I suppose” - which was way, way too often, given how bad they all were. Michael couldn’t even bring himself to care, though. Not when accidentally punching him in the face had been the one thing to pull his life together. Ashton’s dad jokes were definitely worth all of that.

[aradias-crypt]

Sinful Symphonies

“This song again?” You rub your temples, your eye twitching as the sound of heavy metal drones on in your head. It overwhelms the sound of your own music. Setting down your palette, you drop your paintbrush into a jar of solvent before marching to your radio resting on the windowsill of your room.

Lowering the volume, you wait for the music on your other’s “side” to soften. You honestly pity their eardrums if they listen to music this loudly.

Soon, the music stops altogether.

Good.

You crank up your own music to full blast. A smug smile tugs at your lips.

“Hope you like jazz, jerk face.”

Ever since the day you were born, music seemed to stream constantly to you from your other half’s side. Whether it was night or day, music played ceaselessly. When you were young, you’d make a game of playing your favorite records to try and share your tastes with your soulmate, hoping they’d eventually show an interest in the same music.

Their music didn’t change exactly, mostly sticking to classics and rock, but on nights when your room grew uncomfortably quiet, soft music would play and lull you to sleep.

Childhood was fun, full of guessing games and the like, but the tune changed when you reached your teens. As supers made more and more appearances in your life, the music grew darker and twisted, as if the person on the other side was directly affected in some way.

Soon, your game of appeasing your other evolved into a game of bothering them as they did you. Some days you won, some you lost. You blasted ballads and pop songs while they flooded you with death metal and songs you couldn’t decipher. You won the mornings while they won the nights. Mostly when you were preparing to sleep.

At the very least, they didn’t often get hurt. That, you were grateful for. Pain is also shared between soulmates, though the physical wound of the other is only momentary for the partner.

“Still, you have a wicked sense of humor, love.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes as the memory of flesh falling from your face comes to mind. There’s been plenty of times where your body ached from phantom shifting, but the physical wounds always hurt the most. “Making me worry about you when you put yourself in situations like that.”

Perhaps they're a hero or a villain. Its entirely possible. Supers put themselves in harms way all the time. Maybe it wasn’t recklessness but the goodness of their hearts that drove them into danger.

...or they were just a prankster

Either way, they were getting drop kicked to the heavens when you found them.

“Now that I think of it, they have to be pretty old if they’ve been at this since I was born.” You muse to yourself, brushing your hair back as you pick up where you left off on the canvas covered in oil paint before you.

“Maybe I’ll paint you one day.”

——

“Starting off with Dean Martin I see” you adjust the strap of your supply bag to rest more comfortably across your chest. The smooth crooning of the late singer invades your thoughts; its a nice change of pace. “You must be having a good day huh?” Exiting your car, you hum along to the song as you open the trunk of your car to take out your painting.

For your college class, you decide to bring in your painting of the final battle between the Headless Rider and Bright Knight; a super-villain and superhero who later disappeared from the public’s eye. You were pretty damn proud of the piece, seeing how it had taken you weeks to finish.

Entering the liberal and performing arts center, you head for the elevators. On the way you pass by several.. odd looking individuals. They were robots. However, living in a world full of supers means not much phases you anymore.

Shrugging, you continue your journey and makes your way up to the 11th floor. Passing by Mara, one of your classmates, the two of you start up a conversation about the sudden appearance of the Four Horsemen. Mercenaries that arrived from Calamni {a country far to the south}, the Horsemen brought with them a new wave of terror; ranging from riots to bio weapons. They didn't act on their own but would do nearly anything for the right price.

“I’m afraid to go outside at night.. I hear Pestilence is preparing something real nasty. They say she’s the one behind the break in at the CDC.” Mara says, her skin turning ashen at the thought of the pale rider.

”Are you up to date on all your shots?” You respond jokingly, smiling down at the shorter girl.

Mara whines and clutches her sculpture to her chest,”Its not funny, I get sick super easily. And what if my soulmate is in the area of the attack? I don’t want to lose them before I even meet them!”

“I’m sure you and your soulmate will be just fine” You reassuringly state,”Just drink a lot of orange juice and take your vitamins.” You wink playfully.

Your classmate frowns. ”What about you, aren’t you worried about your soulmate?”

“They’ve gone through worse than a little cold. I think they’ll be just fine” They didn’t seem to feel worried, if the transitioning sound to Frank Sinatra was any indication of their mood.

Diverting from your original discussion, you both prepare yourselves for the upcoming critiques.

However, before you can step through the doors to class, a rattling boom shakes you both to the core. You drop to the ground and assess the environment around you.

The floor titters and jolts.

Never a good sign.

“Oh gods please-!” Mara shouts as the ceiling begins to crack and bend.

‘Time to go.’ You think.

Jumping to your feet you yank Mara up, leaving behind your painting as you run to the emergency stairs,”Lets get out of here!”

Mara clutches your sleeve as people fleeing from classrooms bump and push against her. Many head towards the closest stairway while others rush towards the windows in hopes of flagging down help from the outside.

“What if the stairs are blocked!” Mara screams over the sound of mayhem.

You yank open the door and begin your descent,”We’ll burn that bridge when we get there!”

———————————

True to Maras fear, the stairway was blocked in by bent beams and debris.

Still, music comes from your other.

Such lovely music in such a shitty time.

Mara backs away and begins tangling her fingers in her hair,”We have to call the police!”

You mumble,”They won’t get here in time, the building will collapse by then.” Peeking under a leaning beam, you spot a ray of light. A small whistle can be heard from the other side as well.

Wind?

“I think the explosion must’ve caused the rubble to break the wall on the other side.” You back up slightly, flinching as the foundations above you begin to groan.

“We aren’t strong enough to get through, and we’re still on the 7th floor! There’s no way we would survive that fall!”

“Actually..” You whisper nervously,”I am strong enough..”

With a flick of your wrists, gauntlets form around your hands and down to your elbows; encasing them in polished metal.

“H..how-“ Mara sputters, instantly recognizing the emblem on the back of your hands. She presses herself against the wall, glancing at the stairs behind her.

“You’re a Horseman” she squeaks,”the same family as-“

You raise your hands in defense,”Same as the Headless Rider and the Four. Yes, but I promise I mean you no harm.”

Mara laughs incredulously,”You’re trying to make us jump 7 stories, what do you by mean ‘you no harm’?! How do I know that your clan isn’t the one behind this attack?!”

“They may be infuriating but my siblings would never kill me off like this, trust me, we pinky swore as kids. Now, I know this is weird but it’s either jumping or getting crushed to death.” You intercede before she can interrupt,”And I don’t think either of our soulmates would like that very much.”

Gulping down several deep breaths Mara looks past you to the rubble blocking the wall.

”..You can’t just clear the rest of the stairs..?”

“I’m fast but not that fast” The rumbling grows deafening. Even from here, the sounds of screaming can be heard from upstairs. But it too is silenced by the destruction.

You growl,”Choose now Mara!”

“Okay!” Mara whimpers,”Okay! Please, get us out of here.”

Pivoting on your heel, you strike the rubble with gauntlets glowing like a steel forge. Instantly, the cement gives way, turning to dust and leaving only beams that are easily pushed away. Making a clear path to the opening in the wall, you break the edges of the wall to widen the hole further.

As expected, wind whips your face as you loom over the opening. Squinting against the biting breeze, you spot the cause of the explosion at the base of the building.

The robots from before are lugging out bag after bag of artifacts and large containment tubes of delicate articles and manuscripts. Smaller bots stand at the ground level of your current building with armfuls of explosives.

For a moment, you question why they would target your building when it holds nothing of importance. But then you remember the security office on the first floor that has direct phone access to the League of Heroes.

And the other building..

“They were after the restoration sector.” You mutter under your breath,”All this destruction for some silly papers..” Backing up from the opening, you summon the rest of your signature armor to shield your body. Your clan would definitely scold you for revealing herself to a civilian, but you would get even worse if you revealed yourself to the whole school.

“I’m going to jump. Whatever you do, don’t squirm, okay?” Lifting Mara into your arms, you brace yourself to jump.

You weren’t afraid of heights after your training with your siblings, but that didn’t make you fond of the idea of falling.

Mara covers her face with one hand while latching the other around your neck,”Please don’t drop me.”

You walk up the hole,”I don’t know, that sounds pretty tempting.”

“You better not-“ Mara is cut off as you both go plummeting down, her words die in her throat as she screams in terror at the sudden free fall.

On the other hand, you take this moment to look for any sign of the lead villain. Usually when robots are involved, the brains behind the operation is nearby to ensure their plan goes smoothly. But all you could see was a flash of green scaling the second building and what must’ve been a science major panicking below it as you fell.

Poor guy looked like he was losing his shit. You chuckle under your helmet.

Nearing impact, you adjust your grip on Mara to aim your right fist at the ground.

War was the brawler in the family, but that didn’t mean you didn’t pack a punch.

Releasing a wave of violet energy, the force exerted slows the fall just enough to allow you to land with minor injuries. Left with a light sprain and a crick in the neck from Maras grip, you hide behind a bush near the back of the art department.

Mara reluctantly opens her eyes, sighing with relief at the sight of safe and sturdy ground. Looking up at you, she smiles sheepishly,”Thank you ..for helping me.”

You smile under the helmet, the slits for eyes emitting a soft lavender glow.

“You’re welcome. But know that if you tell anyone my secret I will have to kill you.”

“Duly noted.” Mara laughs with a twinge of nerves.

Setting her down gently, you wait for her to regain her balance before pointing to the robots,”I’ll handle them, you get out of here and make sure the school contacts the LoH.”

Mara nods, running to the main campus.

Left alone, you crack your knuckles as you approach the restoration building.

‘I don’t want to set the world on fire’ plays on in your head, a silent requiem for the collapsing building behind you.

Debris passes by you as the floors finally cave in.

Your soulmate gave you numerous injuries.

They could handle yours.

———————

Flug had many fears, mostly two-

“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! LOOK AT ME NERD!”

Three. Three fears.

The first being Black Hat, who just recently took Flug on as his chief scientist. He would have been overjoyed were it not for his new masters record with past employees.

Dead, dead, double dead, mutilated horribly, missing, eaten, exsanguinated, excravated, eviscerated, and so on.

No one ever just “quit”. Unless they “quit life” but that decision seemed to be Black Hat’s instead of theirs.

His second fear was still Black Hat, but it mostly was towards the idea of failing him and turning out like the people before him. Flug was durable due to experiments he tested on himself and maybe even some of his heritage.. but he was surely not durable enough to face the incarnation of evil himself and get away unscathed.

His third fear was the woman above him currently frightening the people stuck inside the building she was climbing.

She was his creation, in a way, mixing lizard DNA with a normal human to test hybridization and its affects on the human psyche. While it did give the subject an immunity to most poisons, heightened strength and the ability to climb walls-among other things- her mindset was changed drastically.

He’d have to remember to ask Black Hat just what lizard he gave him for the experiment.

“Hey doc, what are we gonna do with these guys!” Dememcia waves excitedly to the people inside, grinning at the fear in their eyes.

Flug adjusts his goggles,”Leave them I guess? We just need a few more documents and we’ll be done here.” Why a lower class villain would want these papers were beyond him. Based on his research and examinations of security footage, they weren’t very important at all. Maybe this villain just had an odd hobby.

Unlatching herself from the building, Demencia rolls to the ground, landing perfectly on her feet.. Stretching her arms over her head, she counts the hatbots retreating from the structure.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7- hey!” A blast singes the top of her head, burning her hoodie.

Flug turns around and cocks the blaster in his hand,”Who’s there!”

You approach them silently with your gauntlet pointed to Demencia. Activating your vocal distortion box you hiss,”So many bots for a simple college run, eh?”

Demencia smiles menacingly,”Look Flug, a new bug to squish!”

Flug’s squints, doing a quick evaluation of the villain who-! His eyes widen in fear.

”Demencia wait!”

Demencia launches herself with full force, effectively slamming you into the ground with a heavy thud.

Digging your fingers into the hybrids hair, you headbutt her, letting go after hearing a wet crunch of bone.

Demencia jumps away, wiping a trail of blood running from her nose,”Ohhh, I like you~” Her eyes shine with excitement.

“Can’t say the same” You stand and wince at the throbbing pain forming behind your eyes. Unlike your siblings who had a natural buffer to keep them from feeling the affects of their abilities, you inherited drawbacks from your mothers side. The more you fought, the more your body suffered.

Power came at a price.

A sudden blow to your diaphragm knocks the air out of your lungs, causing you to skid back several feet

You allow yourself only a moment to catch your breath.

‘Pitiful’ you think to yourself,’I’ve let myself become soft.’ You look to the girl in front of you, her fist bloody but her grin still plastered on her face.

You weren’t Conquest, or War, or Pestilence, or even Death.

But you weren’t weak.

Your gauntlets begin to glow as your armor shifts. Slamming them together, they morph to form spikes along the knuckles.

Flug calls out again to Demencia who dances in place, unaware of the enemy in front of her drawing closer,”Don’t let her hit you!”

“Aww come on doc, she’s just a poser! Look-“

Demencia is knocked to her knees.

Blast after blast, spikes of energy pierce her body, sending her further into the ground.

Fumbling with his blaster, Flug retrieves a remote from his coat, pressing a bright red button.

“H-Hatbots, attack!”

[levelstory]

Music Reflection II, Early 2000s' was a Trip

Well, it has been a hot minute since I wrote a music reflection post. Last time, I talked about various songs from my childhood from the likes of Britney Spears to Stevie Brock. Now I am back to tackle some more music from my most formative years that will make you question how my music taste ever escaped cringy pop music from the Top 40. Coincidentally, all of these tracks are from the early 2000s’ so no 90s’ music here today. Here we go…

Miracles Happen by Myra

This song is the anthem ofThe Princess Diaries. That movie was one of my most watched VHS tapes next to the first Harry Potter film. It is the movie that sparked my interest in film soundtracks, and one of the most recognizable and memorable songs from the album was easily Myra's Miracles Happen. 

It can be easy to forget how much work was once put into acquiring music in an age where most music is available instantaneously. As a kid, my ear was always turned toward the music in any given film and when I got to an age (around 9-10) when I realized these tracks were sold in one package known as the film soundtrack, I made a point to get my hands on a copy. The Princess Diaries is the first soundtrack I remember owning outside of soundtracks from Disney films. 

My most stark memories with this soundtrack are playing it in my bedroom at my old house. Toward the end of our time living there, my family painted my bedroom a light pink and I got a desk that had a CD rack built-in (this was a big feature at the time). My boombox sat on the large desktop against the wall and I can remember listening to The Princess Diaries soundtrack on repeat. There are a lot of great tracks on the album but Miracles Happen is the true star and the true representation of the movie. 

Before I talk about the track further, I just want to point out that this movie is great. We could talk about its problems, which it has many, but it remains funny, heartwarming, and a joy to watch from start to finish. This movie introduced me to Anne Hathaway and she just shines. Plus, Julie Andrews is in the movie and she steals the show! I know my opinion is partially influenced by nostalgia goggles but hey...just let me have this!

Back to Miracles Happen. What is easily the strongest aspect of the song is the chorus. It is so catchy and fun to listen to. The verses are enjoyable enough, but they feel a bit detached from what makes the song so good. The bridge is pretty lackluster. As discussed a bit in my first reflection, way too many songs struggle with their bridges. Look, I get it...but still. The only shining light is that the bridge at least transitions into a tune that sounds similar to the chorus which is pretty great. 

The lyrics are fairly generic which is par for the course. They say a bunch of random things like "we found the missing pieces" and "nothing should ever bring you down", lyrics that have little to no emotional attachment to anything beyond it is a thing people say in this context. But all things considered, it is still a really fun song to listen to.

It Happens Every Time by Dream Street

Dream Street is one of those boy bands that flew pretty far beneath the radar for most people. Their first album released in 2000 and I distinctly remember the marketing campaign on television playing over and over again so that they were drilled into our brains. I guess it worked because I really wanted this album as a ten-year-old.

My friends and I loved Dream Street. I had their poster hanging on my bedroom wall (their album booklet unfolded into the poster). We made up dance routines to their songs. We even blasted the music through my friend’s house and somehow her parents never became angry with us. My most shameful confession about Dream Street is that we used to try and find their phone numbers to call them. Unaware that phone books are limited to local numbers, we would call random numbers to see if Chris or Jesse were home to talk. They weren't, and people were annoyed by our calls. 

One thing people probably don't know is that Jesse McCartney's music career began with Dream Street. I'm proud to say that he was my favorite from the group at the time, and vocally he is the strongest of the group. His voice had not matured yet so it is always fun listening to his performance with his young voice!

It Happens Every Time was their big single and the song most used in TV adverts, accompanied by the music video. What got me thinking about the song and the group recently is due to some unfortunate events. I learned back in July that one of the members, Chris, died in June due to complications with COVID-19. He would have been 35 this year. Chris was often looked at as the Justin Timberlake of Dream Street. He had the fancy frost tipped hair and swagger to him that the other members couldn't compete with. After the group disbanded, he never found success in the same way he did with Dream Street. He died too young and too soon. After his death, I started relistening to Dream Street and it was this relisten that encouraged me to write another Music Reflection. 

As with Stevie Brock from the first installment of Music Reflections, Dream Street's songs mostly center on their lust for girls in a way that is pretty uncomfortable looking back. These boys range in age from 11-13 if I am not mistaken, and their songs deal with mature themes that predate their young years. Not to mention that society has young boys singing about these ideas that they can't help their actions when they lust for a girl or they can't control themselves because a girl has them wrapped around her finger. Our culture normalizes this idea that men are vulnerable to female woes and that they can't help themselves. It is always a bit gross hearing young boys sing about it, especially before they’ve even hit puberty (i.e. Justin Bieber).*

It Happens Every Time is a song about...a song. It follows a boy who hears a "silly little love song" every time he sees this girl or thinks of her. This plane of existence, a magic place where angels sing all around them, is known as Dream Street (name drop!). Admittedly, this song is probably the tamest when it comes to the themes I mentioned in the previous paragraph. 

Now I won't lie, this song is a bop. I'm still unsure if that is the nostalgia talking or not...I will have to dig deeper some other time. But damn I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy this song. It is so catchy. The boys sing really well for their age. I am a sucker for listening to little Jesse McCartney belt his heart out. Jesse is the highlight of this song, getting a nice solo line toward the end of the second chorus followed by the entire bridge and some overlapping vocals in the final chorus before ending the song. He just sounds so good and I will admit to feeling a small sense of pride listening to him. I was there before his solo career and entry into Radio Disney hits and commercials all over ABC Family. Sometimes it feels like Dream Street is still so unknown that I can keep my memories of them all to myself. Though their time was short-lived, they stayed with me and so has this song.

Ordinary Day by Vanessa Carlton

Earlier, I talked about how difficult it was to acquire music before the internet. In the case of a song in a movie, there was a good chance that the song you liked would be on the soundtrack, provided a soundtrack was even released. Songs on the radio were difficult because you had to buy an entire album when you just liked one song, or make sure you had a blank tape ready to record when the song came on. Then there were songs you heard while out and about with no context. Those were the worst because you had to try and memorize the song and hope you found it somewhere, someday. That was kind of what happened to me with Vanessa Carlton.

It was her song A Thousand Miles that really gripped me as a 12-year-old. I loved it so much and heard it everywhere I went but never knew who sang the song or where I could get a copy. Eventually, I heard the song on the radio and bought her album...and ended up only listening to the three tracks I liked. One of the tracks, and my favorite of those three, is Ordinary Day. 

If my memory is correct, this song was never as popular as A Thousand Miles on the radio, but it was super popular on the internet. This album came out around the time I first started using the internet and discovered movie montages. I don't mean montages used in movies but montages made by fans on Windows Movie Maker, cut together with a somewhat fitting song. If you were a teenager obsessing over Disney or Harry Potter or...something, you know the songs that people generally gravitated towards with these videos (the band Trading Yesterday were a staple of these montages). Ordinary Day was a movie montage song (every time I listen to this song it reminds me of an Aladdin montage it played over (which I sadly can't find)). 

I decided to watch the music video for this song as I was writing this and boy is it a product of the early 2000s. Can we all just agree that the early 2000s were equivalent to that awkward stage of everyone's lives that we try not to think about? This music video is so clumsy and confusing. There are so many close up shots on Carlton and strange shots of people making out. Who thought this was a good idea?

But back to the song. One thing I appreciate about this song is how it builds itself up. The beginning piano is very nice but then it builds up with orchestration and I love it. I'm sorry I can't talk about it more but I won't embarrass myself with lack of musical instrumental lingo and knowledge.

The lyrics of the song are...ehh? The song is basically about seeing more in the ordinary and how the narrator is shown from an "ordinary boy." It isn't terrible but like the music video, a product of the early 2000s. 

I unapologetically love this song. Yes it is corny and it isn't as musically sophisticated as I would like, but it always makes me smile when I listen to it. I can remember listening to the song on my headphones on long car rides and with friends. It is just a song that makes me feel happy and gives me no reason to feel otherwise. 

All I Can Do by Jump5

Well...I'm surprised it took me this long to arrive at Jump5. What is there to say about this Christian pop sensation? Quite a bit actually. I was only obsessed with them for a good chunk of my early teens. Reflecting on that time of my life is strange because in hindsight, it was such a short period but it always feels like it lasted much longer. 

Everyone has that one band that they really connect with as a teenager that basically shapes their entire life and...well, yeah, that band for me is Jump5. I'm not kidding, I could write an entire book about how this band shaped my entire life (and believe me, I am working on it!). As much as I'd like to talk about all of that, we only have a short amount of time so let's talk about this song. 

As with Ordinary Day, this song reeks of the early 2000s. However, unlike Ordinary Day, the music video is much more successful in its execution. I couldn't believe myself when rewatching it...it is actually pretty darn good as far as music videos tend to be. 

Choosing what Jump5 song to talk about was pretty difficult because there are so many in their arsenal that I can talk about for long periods of time and connect to life experiences. But All I Can Do seems to be a special one because I'm almost certain it was the first track I ever heard from the group. As with Dream Street, Jump5 had a big TV marketing campaign for their second album, All the Time in the World (in which All I Can Do is the first track). It was their TV advert that put them on the radar for me. I vividly remember seeing the commercial at Christmas time. It was the first Christmas spent at our new house and I can remember watching the TV with my gifts and snow falling outside. At this point, seeing pop bands advertised on TV was nothing new. There were always new groups trying to make it big as other pop acts had before them. But other than my memory of seeing this commercial, it otherwise didn't leave a big impact on me. I wouldn't start listening to Jump5 until a few months later after getting into Radio Disney. And even after I got into Jump5, All I Can Do was never one of their songs that I gravitated towards. 

I wanted to talk about this song because of how well it represents Jump5 as a group. All I Can Do is their quintessential track, packed with energy and fun lyrics. But the track is also a representation of the group's core aesthetic of disguising "Christian values" as a pop song about a crush. For anyone who grew up on a Christian media diet (as I did voluntarily as a teenager), this is nothing out of the ordinary for this type of entertainment. In fact, it is basically a meme at this point. All I Can Do may be the least overt example of this from Jump5's library, but it is still an example nonetheless.

“It's like I got nothing to do but think about you,” (you being God), "I've got all the time in the world," (implying that time does not matter because in God you have everlasting life), "if you look at my heart, you'll know from the start," (meaning God knows your true heart and He knows from the start). I could go on but I think you see my point. There isn't anything inherently bad about this example and it is fairly harmless, but this isn't always the case when it comes to Christian entertainment.

Another trend from the late 90s' and early 2000s' was a pop group being a mix of both guys and girls but the guys rarely sang (A*Teens is another example that might come to mind). This song is dominated by the girls who share most of the song equally. The guys are hardly ever heard at all except when Chris gets his time to shine echoing the song's title over and over. It is easy to forget about them but alas, they are there.

Jump5 were known for their dance routines that they performed alongside their songs. They would often do cartwheels, flips, and very technical dance routines that blew many other pop acts out of the water. They also performed these routines live on tour, not just in their music videos. This dance routine is a really memorable one, showing the group doing a train-like dance which I remember performing with a friend. It is a lot of fun and I won't let anyone tell me otherwise! It was a lot of fun revisiting this track.

Is It Saturday Yet? by Nick Carter

Well here we are, at the final song, and boy is this choice...let's go with interesting. Nick Carter, known for his Backstreet Boy fame, recorded his own solo album after the group disbanded. What we got was Now or Never which is only ever remembered by the song Help Me, and even that is pretty forgettable. All that said, I owned this album and listened to it quite a bit as a tween. My most specific memory with the album is listening to it on a long car ride to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Is It Saturday Yet? is the seventh track on the album and out of the five tracks I liked, this was probably at the bottom. 

So why talk about it if it was my least favorite track? Well friends, this track is so bizarre that I question its existence on a frequent basis. It is insane how often this song gets stuck in my head and won't leave. 

The song seems to be about a disengaged teenager being raised by Jerry Springer and video games (video games got a low blow for warping kids brains back in the day. They still get blamed today but it isn't to the same extent) who just can't wait for Saturday to come so he can be rid of his responsibilities. The lyrics are...dumb. They are clearly trying to make a point but the song is so ridiculous that it is white noise. And why is it that Nick and Aaron Carter always have to reference each other in their songs? It was cute at first when Aaron did it in his classic track Oh Aaron, but now it is just old. 

"Is it Saturday yet? Cause I wanna get up. Is it Saturday yet? It just feels like a Saturday. Maybe it's a Saturday." Those are the lyrics in the chorus. It is a song so devoid of meaning and so lazy to its very core. It contains lazy rhymes and brutal instrumentals. This song is the reason so many people describe pop music as empty trash. Like, don't get me wrong, a lot of music on the radio is pop trash and is clearly put together by big corporate higher-ups to make a quick buck on teenage stars locked in a contract. But some of that music is meaningful and deserves to be recognized. This song, however, deserves to die a painful death. It is just terrible. 

And yet, despite all of this, the song somehow still appeals to me. I still listen to it. I still find joy out of it even though it is just awful in every possible way. I think that speaks to the whole point of these reflections on the music I listened to when I was younger. 

Is It Saturday Yet? may be the worst of the bunch, but a lot of music cranked out back in the day was mindless entertainment. As much as it bothers me, I won't lie and say there is no place for music like this because there is. Sometimes when I am driving, I get so sick of the music I normally listen to ("good" music) and I just want music from my childhood that won't make me think but will just allow me to bake in nostalgic goodness. 

Revisiting these songs was fun, but I know there are more I want to talk about in the future! Stay tuned! What are some songs you listened to in the early 2000s’ that make you feel super nostalgic today? Let me know in the comments!

* It should also be noted that the band broke up because of a lawsuit in which the majority of the parents of the band alleged that the underage band members were "exposed to booze, women, and pornography."

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | seventeen

February 4 – Washington D.C.

“Wait—you for real?” Beija laughed softly as she sat across from Ari—or at least, she thought that was her name. “You don’t even look like a damn Courtney. Done let me call you Ari all this time, you gotta correct me next time,” B shook her head as she took another hot wing from the pile that they were sharing.

“Oh, no. It’s okay—I really don’t even mind,” Courtney laughed softly before she crossed her legs slowly. “Okay, so thankfully most of the production on this is finished—but once I played it at the last meeting, they wanted to tweak things a bit,” She sat her chin on her palm. “Some of the songs are already done since I’m rehashing some from the last piece of work I did,” She explained.

“Oh? Which one? I wanna hear it,” Beija wiped her hands with one of the paper towels she had been using, and Courtney twisted her lips to the side before she searched through her laptop, clicking about until some music began to play through the laptop’s speakers.

Beija stayed quiet as she took recognition to the lyrics immediately, and a bright smile crossed her face, slowly swaying to the music as she closed her eyes.

This was the first song that Ibrahim exposed her to—this was previously on her first body of work, but Beija had fallen in love with Courtney’s voice the moment she heard the song. It was something a lot of people could relate to; being afraid to let go and actually feel something for someone. Beija had always had that issue and she was having it at the moment. The level of relation and connection that the song had with her made it clear that Courtney needed to be there at the label. There was a level of honesty to her and the feelings she wanted to gain within listening to her lyrics was exactly what she had been explaining to Jermaine so long ago. She wanted these feelings to be shared with the masses, and she felt so proud of what would come in the future.

She found her mind wandering as she listened to the lyrics of the song, becoming unaware of her own emotional state. “How does it feel to know I’m wrapped around you?” That part got her every time—Beija could damn near hear the torment wrapped around the syllables. She could identify with the phrase now more than ever. Once the song ended, Beija sighed as she opened her eyes slowly. “Ah man,” She whispered. “That’s such an amazing song, I don’t care how old it is,” She said.

“Ha, thank you! I thought it was pretty good myself,” Courtney let out a small stint of laughter before she crossed her legs. “I can’t wait until all the tracks are finished up and they’re sent to me so I can do some other things. I’ve done a couple tracks already but I’m on the fence about them. I still feel so weird,” She said.

“About what?” Beija turned to face the other woman as she spoke.

“Being here. I mean...I am the only singer. I don’t sing about what everyone else raps about here. I know Jermaine just told me to be myself but I still think a bit about what I should be doing, or how I should be delivering this music,” Courtney shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing to be a little nervous. But I think you’re needed here—matter fact, I know it. When I heard you sing I just knew you needed to be here,” Beija gave her a good-natured smile. “Plus, we need more of a feminine touch around here! Sucks being damn near the only girl. And I’m nearly the youngest next to Cody,” She explained.

“I don’t know how you deal with it. They’re all like teenagers when they’re not in public,” Courtney dished, and Beija giggled softly.

“Exactly! Watch; they’re gonna treat you like me and annoy you every day before long, and you’re gonna wonder why you were ever intimidated,” B shook her head.

“Oh, sounds like a real party,” Courtney laughed softly before she checked her phone, raising an eyebrow before she turned to her laptop and opened a browser to check her email. “...Oh, Grumble sent me a finished track,” She opened the attachment and the track automatically began to play.

Beija sat and listened to the track, nodding her head slowly to the beat before she grinned. “Aye! This is amazing,” She swayed a bit once the beat dropped. “You gotta use this—for what, I don’t know or care, but you gotta let this be on something of yours,” She said.

“I do...hm, let me get on that. I can at least start writing this stuff up,” She said before she took out her notebook and began to write.

It seemed that despite the craziness that overtook the beginning of the year, it was back to business for Beija. She played her role well within the media chaos that surrounded Jermaine’s divorce; she kept her head down, worked, and stayed quiet when it came to the tabloids and blogs. The less they knew the better off she would be. J was forced to release a statement explaining the situation and even after that some weren’t at all satisfied with it for various reasons. As much as Beija wanted to speak out and defend herself, she knew that flying off the handle wouldn’t help things. So for the moment being, she kept the negativity out of her mental space. If it wasn’t about she and Jermaine, or about work and Dreamville, she didn’t really care about attending to it.

The silver lining within it all was Courtney herself. The fact that the two were so close in age and Beija had pretty much been appointed as her A&R rep for the moment being, the two of them were slowly creating a friendship that Beija could appreciate. As great as J was, Beija needed more female friends that she could reach out to especially within the industry. Court was still pretty much living in D.C. and had yet to really transition to another location, so Beija decided to fly out and come and see her to help her work. It gave her an excuse to get out of the city and not show her face to the paparazzi for a while as well, so she was all for it.

The two had been in the studio for a couple of hours when Beija felt her phone vibrating, hearing the ringing of the phone only slightly due to the music playing. Courtney turned down the music as B pulled out her phone, noting the haphazard selfie photo that Jermaine took in her bed, along with his name and number flashing across the screen. She shook her head at the silly photo before she answered the call. “Hi, baby,” She greeted.

“Hey,” J didn’t sound very chipper, and B automatically went into defensive mode. “How’s everything in D.C.? You safe and everything, yeah?”

“Yeah—me and Court are at her place at the moment. Why do you sound so weird?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I just got a call from my nigga back home,” There was a slight pause in the statement before he continued. “One of my homeboys got murdered,” He finally revealed, and Beija felt her stomach turn.

“Wait, what?” She stood up and walked through Courtney’s living room, reaching the bathroom before she shut the door behind you. “How? What happened?” She asked.

“From what they tellin’ me, it was on some street shit. Drug deal gone wrong, I’mma assume,” J cleared his throat when his tone began to quiver. “The funeral is this coming Saturday. Will you come with me?” He asked.

“Of course. I’m so sorry, J. I can only imagine how hard this is for you,” She felt so much empathy for J’s situation, considering that she knew what it felt like to lose someone she loved and was close to. “Go get some rest, okay? I’m gonna catch a flight in the morning and come home,” She decided.

“You sure? I don’t wanna interrupt your work,” J questioned, and she shook her head as if he could see.

“Just get our hotel and stuff set up for Fayetteville. I’m going to be coming home tomorrow, so don’t worry about it,” She said before she let out a sigh. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” She promised.

“Alright. Be safe, please,” He pleaded. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” She hung up with him, and she sighed softly as she ran her fingers through her hair slowly, shaking off her emotions before she tried to compose herself. Exiting the bathroom, she returned to the living room, seeing that Courtney was on the phone herself.

“Yeah...it’s the shit, so come over and we can get to editing these lyrics,” Courtney let out a small laugh before she nodded. “Mk. See ya,” She hung up before she looked at Beija with a bit of concerned. “My bad, girl. Had to call up some folks to get this song done. But are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine for now. But I can’t stay like I promised—I gotta get back to New York,” Beija said before she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Oh, shit. Okay, well I think I can get through the rest until I can come up to you, so no worries,” Court nodded before she glanced back at her laptop. “You sure everything is okay?” She asked.

“Honestly?” Beija began, glancing at Courtney as the woman looked at her. “I think I won’t be for very much longer. But I’m hoping for the best.

February 6 – Fayetteville, North Carolina

Beija didn’t enjoy funerals no matter who they were for. They seemed to hold nothing but negative energy for her. Even though they were meant to be beautiful and therapeutic for those in mourning, it just didn’t translate into that for her. Even the nature of the day ahead didn’t seem to coincide with a celebration of life—the skies were painted grey with thickened clouds, and eventually the rain did finally fall by the time Beija woke up. She glanced over and saw that the other side of the bed was empty; she could hear the running of water from the bathroom.

She got up from her bed and proceeded to take her medication before she entered the bathroom, seeing Jermaine at the sink as he washed his face. “Morning,” She greeted as she proceeded to use the restroom.

“Good morning,” He mumbled before rinsing his face off. “I’m gonna go get us some breakfast while you shower. What do you want?” He asked.

“Something light—eggs, toast, and bacon...some fruit,” Beija spoke between her drawn out yawn, gently patting at her head so she wouldn’t scratch at the hair she took so much time to straighten and wrap the night before. “And some water will be fine to drink,” She finished.

“Got it,” He said before he left the restroom, leaving her alone to get herself together.

Once she finished using the restroom, she undressed and got into the shower, being careful not to get any water near her head. She washed herself off and took a moment to relax her mind before she got out of the shower to dry off. She returned to the bedroom and applied lotion to her body before putting on her bra and underwear. She even proceeded to put on the girdle she packed to smooth out the little gut she had.

She put on the black dress she had packed, and had slipped on her heels when she heard Jermaine return with the food. The two of them began to eat silently, and once they were finished, Beija proceeded to get her hair and make-up together while J went to shower and take care of his other hygiene needs.

Beija actually got finished a bit before Jermaine did, and she waited patiently as he put on his dress shirt and slacks. Once he got his socks and loafers on, he grabbed his tie before he began to tie it on. She stood up from her chair and walked over to him, helping him straighten it out. “You gonna be okay today?” She asked, and he nodded.

“As okay as I can be,” He said before he leaned down and kissed her cheek lightly. “Come on. I don’t wanna be late,” He said, and she nodded as the two grabbed some of their things and headed out of the hotel room.

The two headed to the church where the funeral would be held, and from then on it was pretty standard of how the funeral played out. Hymns were sung, the eulogy was given, preaching ensued, and family members took to the podium to speak on their fallen friend. Beija didn’t know this man but it seemed that a lot of people loved him and there was this sense of wishful thinking—the hope that he’d come back for just one more day, and everyone could truly tell him how loved he was. It made Beija feel uneasy and unfortunately nostalgic. She knew she couldn’t become too flustered by it all though, because she had to be supportive for Jermaine. Even though he seemed strong and almost detached from the entirety of everything that was going on, she knew that being there was something she needed to do.

After the funeral, the two were invited to the deceased mother’s home for dinner, and that’s when Beija felt a little more at ease. She met the man’s mother, the mother of his child, and his daughter, whom all had nothing but funny stories and memories of the man’s life. The vibe of being around the family was a little more easygoing, and the food was pretty delicious as well. As exhausted as B was emotionally, she made a point to engage—she hoped that in seeing her trying to push through, Jermaine would try to cheer up a bit.

The two didn’t return to the hotel until a bit later. Both were sore and tired in all senses of the word. As J slid his shoes off and flopped onto the bed, Beija undressed and gasped softly when she was finally able to get out of her girdle. “Fuck, finally,” She breathed deeply.

“Why did you even have that on?” J let out a soft chuckle, and she turned back to glare at him as he loosened his tie.

“I had to keep this gut in check, nigga. Why you think?” She unhooked her bra and let out another sigh of relief before she rummaged through Jermaine’s bag, pulling out one of his shirts and slipping it onto her body.

“What gut? It’s like...pudge, barely,” She climbed into bed, and she watched as he moved to lay between her legs, laying his head on her chest.

“You don’t have to lie just because you got a crush on the kid,” She ran her fingers over her hair, chuckling when he sucked his teeth.

“Shut up,” He drew out his words slowly as he glanced up at her. “You beautiful, baby. Every inch of you,” He smirked.

“Oh? Even the gut?” B smiled.

“Especially the gut,” He teased before he rested his head back against her chest. “So I think I’m gonna scrap most of what I recorded for the new album. Maybe. But I have a promise to fulfill,” He mumbled.

“To your friend?” She asked softly, and he nodded a bit. “...Are you okay? I know today was a lot for you,” She continued to stroke his hair as she watched him.

“I just feel weird. I just remember him damn near kicking my ass for asking about selling brick,” He began, and her eyebrows rose slowly. “I never really took the time to realize just how real shit could get. I always think about the people who die from being in the streets, but I never thought it’d hit so close to home for me,” He explained.

“So it’s like you always knew it was happening but you never thought it’d be him,” She summarized, and he nodded in agreement. “That’s how it goes in this world—we be so caught in our own shit that we never stop to think that our time can come in any form,” She looked down and noticed the pained look on his face, and she bit into her lip. “I know you miss him,” She assumed.

“I feel like I ain’t call him enough. Didn’t do enough to make sure he was straight. Now his daughter is without a father. I know that ain’t my doing but fuck...” He closed his eyes, and she was surprised to see a couple tears sneak out of them.

She slowly wiped his face before she gently caressed his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay. With time...maybe the pain will ease. But if not, I’ll be here to help,” She sighed as she lowered her arms to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close. She watched as he laid there motionless, and more tears seemed to escape his closed eyes. He wouldn’t even allow a shudder to consume his body or a quivered breath to leave his lips. She had never seen him cry before, and it was one of the scariest things she had experienced. She felt this worry because she knew he was in pain and there was very little she could do to help. But she just sat there and allowed him to have his moment without judgement. She just wanted him to know that she was present, and here for him when he needed her. She leaned down and kissed the side of his head, and she heard him sniff. She just wished she could help him, and take the pain off of his heart, and knowing that she couldn’t tore her apart. But what escaped her lips next would shake her very core—it was not coerced or even conscious...it was like her heart was speaking for her.

“I love you, Jermaine.”

His eyes opened and he looked up at her with a bit of surprise. The two stayed silent as they gazed at one another, and she didn’t back down. There was this trembling fear within her heart as she was letting down the final wall that stood between she and the man that laid in her arms, but she would face it head on. She had fought tooth and nail for nearly a year to stay away from him and upkeep a boundary that would keep them from going too far with one another, but there was nothing further that stood between them except for herself. It was time for her to get out of her own way.

She had thought up every worst-case scenario that would potentially leave her heartbroken and with wasted time and effort. She was skeptical from the beginning, because she was always told that ‘how you get them is how you lose them.’ She was afraid that with all of the controversy that came with Jermaine, fate would slither behind her and sink its karmic and venomous teeth into her with time. But at this point, she didn’t know what else to do but to kneel and succumb to the will of the universe. If this was meant to be, nothing would stand between them. If it wasn’t, then it would crumble. But she’d never know what the ending would be if she didn’t allow things to begin.

She felt him hold her a little tighter, and she hid her face within the softness of his hair. “I love you too,” A warmth and a relief could be heard in J’s tone, and all she could do was hold him tighter as well. She never wanted to let go.

[yoija]

My Health 2016-2018

12/19/18

There’s a lot to uncover here. I do a lot of self-reflection so I’ve realized a lot about myself and my past and why I am the way I am. This post is to record how I feel about it current day, as a third year college student. I’m not really that articulate, but I’ll try my best here. It’s very long.

In 2016, I had just graduated high school and was in the process of transitioning to college: from an overbearingly protective and stubborn yet loving mother to completely new social environment. I lost contact with many of my old friends. My major started off as Neuroscience & Physiology (which falls under biology) because I fell into the pressures of becoming a doctor. Mentally, I had an incredibly difficult time especially my first year.

Transitioning from a high school where over half of the students qualified for free or reduced food to a (semi-)prestigious UC in STEM? Fucking hard. I remember on my UC application, they asked whether our school had access to resources. I mean, it’s the only thing I know, so I thought the several AP classes and minimal counselor guidance we had at Yerba Buena High School were enough. Of course it wasn’t. We were often belittled by teachers subliminally and it influenced us (or at least, me) to prefer to be less articulate because I was afraid I would use it wrong or what not. I’m from the bay, so hip hop and slang culture was considered cool. Who the fuck wanted to be a nerd? I was too intimidated and scared to be articulate. This lead to not practicing academic language and analyzing on the spot. I hated asking questions, but I realized in college people say dumb shit all the time so I don’t even know why I was so afraid of being wrong. Also, at home, I was silenced a lot by my mom. It pushed me even more to stay quiet and just do things that made me feel smart, or rather to hide that I felt dumb. Hiding clickers. Not asking questions. Leaving discussion right away instead of asking questions. In high school, it was cool to not ask questions and not care about school.

I felt so out of place at UCSD. I couldn’t speak the way that they spoke. It’s not that I’m not smart. I do believe I am. But I felt I didn’t have that practice of being WRONG, so it prevented me from being right. Maybe it was just me being insecure rather than my upbringing. Who knows. There are tons of articulate people unafraid to ask questions from my high school so maybe I’m making excuses. I was already struggling with academics because I just wanted to feel like I belonged and I didn’t ask questions and it was dumb not to. 

Fall quarter - I believe I had mostly Cs and a B. Felt like a damn failure. All the times my teachers and mom and relatives told me I was smart? You were all wrong. I found solace in games. I started this game, Latale, when I was 10. I’ve played it on and off, but I went back to it beginning of Fall since I could escape my academics. I even made friends. I was really able to connect with someone from the guild–Jeff. I might’ve even had a small crush on him. He had a crush on this other girl, sang a song for her that he sent to me for quality check.Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae. I continued to talked to my guildies during the break as I cut ties with many of my high school friends for other reasons. The end of winter break came. I went back to school. A message from our Discord from someone who came on not so frequently: “Hey, I’m Jeff’s irl friend. I just wanted to let you guys know since I know he was close with you guys that he had a heart attack and died yesterday.”

I spiraled into a depression. I couldn’t even fathom it until two weeks later when I eventually broke down and sobbed for hours. I didn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t. It was just. So hard. I didn’t know him for long, sure, whatever. Internet friend. But he was the only stagnant aspect of my life since I was in high school. I barely talked to my old high school friends when I was in college. I wasn’t close to the one friend I had in San Diego. I had Jeff, and my guildies. Then, Jeff was gone. I had no one. Truly, no one.

Did I even want to be a doctor? Did I even like STEM? I felt so worthless. I felt like I was worth absolutely NOTHING. No one checked up on me. No one said anything to me. I tried joining clubs. I already had social anxiety, so it really didn’t help. I started focusing on working out a bit, but honestly, my depression really took over. I hated what I was learning. I felt alone. I was alone. No one really knew or understood me. I was also queer (pan) and didn’t really come to terms with it. 

Somehow I got my first A in BILD 3: Environmental science. Right at the end - spring quarter. My GPA was 3.6 for spring, and I took STEM classes! I was so happy. I’ve always loved learning about environmental science. I started thinking about switching, but it wasn’t economical. But that’s when it began: maybe I shouldn’t be a doctor. Summer came, got a job at Target which was right next to the Hillsdale 24 hour fitness gym. That summer I gymmed with Isabelle from 12-4 am sometimes. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes we’d be productive. I got more into cardio.

Started my second year of college. I was already in the habit of gymming. It wasn’t a hassle for me. Fall quarter, I joined VSA. Met really fucking cool people. Finally I had friends. I became close to mostly 4 people in Fall/Winter: Valerie, Thuy, Ashley, & Nick. 

1. Valerie is really similar to me. I see a lot of myself in her. Has this really excitable and dorky, sometimes childish and overly cute, outer layer.  Though I didn’t really see the appeal at first (probably because I used to do that and I didn’t like myself for it), I found out we had a lot in common. We eat vegetarian sometimes, we both like to create. We’re both gay but usually go for guys. Also, she was a theatre major. The first creative/art major I actually got to know. I’ll get more into it later. Though she and I share many insecurities, she is quite confident in her decisions and inspires me to be confident in myself as well. 

2. Thuy, who came from an art high school and dresses up really well. Wild colors with short hair. A ball of fury and intelligence and passion. CS major. Fucking smart. Witty and funny. Gay as hell. I got really close with Thuy because sometimes I speak in circles yet she really understands exactly what I’m saying. She doesn’t downplay my intelligence. We see eye to eye often. 

3. Ashley, fucking hilarious and really smart. Texan. Gay as fuck too. Cultured in the arts. She also sees eye-to-eye and honestly really inspires me to speak my mind and not be afraid of being humorous and satirical while also being smart. Also, Ashley and Thuy were people who love RPDR, which is problematically my favorite show. An outlet, thank god. We don’t talk often, but when we do it’s really fucking good and below the surface. I can always depend on her to spill tea but also get really deep and fulfilling conversations.

4. Nick is stupid at times, but he is really inspiring for his physical journey. I can talk to him because he really reminds me of some people back home. He’s really dumb and goofy like them too, so it’s nice not to be so surrounded by people afraid to be dumb (UC kids). 

Anyway, the culmination of their presence really influenced me to find myself. I began thinking about not being STEM. At this point, I worked out whenever I had anxiety which was often. While I was making physical progress on my body (at my peak, I was ~170 lbs at 5′5″/5′6″), I saw myself making mental progress. Nearing the end of winter quarter, I gained a lot of confidence in myself because of the people around me. I became more confident in my art. I never pursued it because I was adamantly STEM (I had pressures from old friends to stay in STEM too), so anytime I felt my art was bad, I told myself, “It’s just a hobby. I’m not serious about it so that’s why it’s bad.” 

Nearing the end of winter quarter, I had a huge mental breakdown. I started ochem and physics and lab. I just couldn’t take it. I could never work in a lab environment, and you won’t make it into pharm/medical school if you don’t want to be a pharmacist or doctor. I talked to Valerie about hating STEM and maybe thinking about switching right before a meeting runthrough. 

I was a VSA intern, and after runthrough I couldn’t make it to GBM. I had to leave. I immediately went to Geisel. I had the biggest anxiety attack I’ve ever had in my life. Hyperventilating, extremely high heart rate. Grinding my nails into my skin. I couldn’t be STEM. I don’t want to be a doctor. I don’t want to be in research. I hate labs. I had a hookup phase here. Honestly I just wanted intimacy, but people wanted more. But at the same time, I really wanted to feel.. wanted. I had felt so alone for so long. It was nice now that people considered me pretty and wanted me. That was toxic for me, but it continued.

My GPA was ok. 3.1. I’m sure I could’ve graduated on time and everything if I had pursued STEM. But my work ethic, it just wasn’t there. I had no motivation to study, ever. I felt dumb, but I realized maybe- 1. okay, admittedly, I’m not the smartest, so I do have to work for knowledge but 2. my work ethic reflected my desire for this career. 

I knew it was time for a change. I considered being an environmental science major. I thought I’d at least stay in STEM and get a BS while working on my art because art can be improved anytime. I switched to being a media major 2 weeks later because I realized I just wanted to use my time in college while my housing and education is covered to truly work on my art. 

I started dressing the way I wanted to- loud and proud. Bright. Unapologetically confident. Feminine. Masculine. I learned about cameras. I learned about editing. Around this time, I met my current boyfriend. One of the people I began hooking up with but ended up really liking, duh. He’s also really creative and artistic and dresses well, which also inspired/influenced me to do the same.

I ended spring quarter as a media major, but I began the summer as a vis art speculative design major. I started working for CAIDA, the supercomputer center at UCSD as a graphic design assistant. I worked with 88Rising as a marketing ambassador for UCSD. I took creative classes like photography. I bought the Adobe Creative Suite. 

I really began to develop my art. Taking VIS 1 was great because I even got to practice my drawing, and I realized I don’t want to draw for a living. Though it’s a fun hobby, I find the most joy from working as a graphic designer and editor. I don’t know much about cinematography (and it’s a facet of art I’d like to improve on), but editing? So. Fucking. Fun. 

My work ethic is way better now. It might just be that art is “easier,” but is it really? It takes a long ass fucking time to study and improve art, just like it takes a long ass time to study for and understand STEM concepts. Art and STEM both contribute significantly to society and culture and advancements in the two. I struggled with becoming an art major because of the stigma of it being easy. But I now find myself confident to be an art major. 

Because of my consistent physical progress, I realized that small bits day by day do a huge difference in years. I recently posted a 2016 vs 2018 body picture and people see how significant it is. 

Yes, working out and gymming can be really superficial. Yes, I am becoming more aligned with society’s standards of beautiful and in that way I’m contributing to the toxicity of body image. I still get body dysphoria since my relatives used to call me fat and told me to work out. But to me, working out was a way to ingrain in my mind that no matter what you do, as long as you’re doing something to progress, you will make changes in your life. Changes toward your goals.

I slowly have reached my small goals of body image. Why not with art? I’m not where I want to be. I don’t know anything about cameras, After Effects, InDesign. I barely learned Illustrator and Premiere this summer. And here I am, doing fucking amazing. Not the best art, but I have definitely. Definitely. Come a long way from the beginning of the SUMMER, when I had just started taking it seriously. Who’s to say 5 years from now I won’t be working on high budget movies making their effects? Or making posters for Nike? Working in some company making graphics or videos?

Physically, I have ingrained going to the gym as a lifestyle change. I love that I can eat and feel healthy and sometimes still indulge in food that isn’t the best for you. I am trying my very best to stay physically and mentally healthy.

I really do believe that progress takes time. I am determined not to give up on this. Although I’m still afraid to tell my mom I’ve switched majors, I have no fucking doubt in my mind I will be successful in 5 or 10 or 15 years from now. No. Fucking. DOUBT. And I will be FUCKING amazing.