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forabeatofadrum · 2 years

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The Naked Truth

Summary: “But here he is. Simon Salisbury. My boarding school roommate, nemesis, all-around-prick, and the boy I’ve been in love with since I was fifteen.”

Baz Grimm-Pitch has moved out of England to study art in Omaha, Nebraska. He left his old life behind and he doesn’t regret it. But one day his former nemesis and long-time crush Simon Salisbury walks into his figure drawing class as the model. How will Baz deal with their shared past and the resurface of his feelings?

Notes: Woooh, here we go! I fell in love with figure drawing last February when I participated in Figuary. Since I had access to Figuary thanks to the Carry On Discord, it only felt fitting to write a little fic about figure drawing with Simon and Baz. I didn’t expect it to become 15k words long, though!

Little disclaimer: I know nothing about art modelling and I also don’t know if there’s an art school/art major in Omaha, but that’s the beauty of fanfiction!

A special thanks to Kris KrisRix and Liz FoolofaBookWyrm for hosting Figuary and a big thanks to all the others who participated and gave each other feedback. It was a lot of fun. And thanks Pati Aristocratic_Otter for suggesting the title. Enjoy!

AO3

BAZ

The universe must be playing a cruel joke. That’s all I can think of when Simon fucking Salisbury walks into my art class. I let out a low growl and the person sitting next to me raises an eyebrow, but no one else notices. Simon’s talking to the teacher.

What the fuck is this?

Why the fuck is he here in this dank art studio in Omaha?

This whole art thing is supposed to be healing. I finally allowed my creative sides to flourish after I packed my bag and moved overseas, away from my mother’s legacy and my father’s unfair expectations. (What would my father say if he’d find out that I spent a lot of my free time drawing naked men?) (At moment like this, my father’s lack of interest in my life is a blessing in disguise, because he doesn’t even try to see through my shitty law school cover story.). Art has become my solace after running away from my past. It shouldn’t bring back that past.

But here he is. Simon Salisbury. My boarding school roommate, nemesis, all-around-prick, and the boy I’ve been in love with since I was fifteen.

This entire situation becomes a thousand times worse when Simon disrobes himself. From all art classes he had to walk in to, he chose figure drawing. The teacher introduces Simon as Snow and I bet he has a lot of artistic shit to say, but I am not listening. How can I when Simon fucking Salisbury is positioning himself on this shitty stool, butt naked?

I let out another growl and to my horror, it’s louder than the first. The person next to me notices again, and she’s not the only one. The teacher’s stopped his explanation and more heads turn towards me, including Simon’s.

His face falls when he sees me.

We look at each other and no one seems to pick up that there’s something going on here, because the teacher continues the lesson as if nothing’s happened and other students are nodding along and making notes. I’m still staring ta Simon. He’s still staring at me. He scowls and I frown back. We haven’t seen each other since he dropped out in our second-to-last year at school, but we fall back into our dismay at seeing each other.

I deepen my frown, because I don’t want him to notice that my heart is racing. It’s always been easier to act like the sight of him ruins my day, instead of the opposite.

I focus on his face as I try to stare him down, because I want to avoid looking anywhere else. I cannot believe that after all these years, I am seeing him naked.

That obviously cannot last. The reason he’s here is because he needs to be observed. I actually have permission to watch him. Sort of. A part of me expects Simon to get up, tell the teacher he can’t do this with me in the room, and leave. After all, he was always making sure to dress in the bathroom instead of our bedroom. But Simon doesn’t leave. The teacher asks him something, and the moment he looks away from me, he has an easy smile on his face again. They discuss poses and ideas and I realise that he’s done this before. How the fuck did Simon Salisbury end up as a naked art model?

Well, fuck. I regretfully knew that I never fully moved on from him, but after years of not seeing him, feelings start to diminish. Loving him used to consume me. After he dropped out, it ebbed away, to the background. Now, it’s fully coming back.

I need to be rational about this. (When have I ever been rational about him?). I try to school my expression and I look back to my big sketchpad. I can be professional about this. Most of the time, the models are only there for one session. After today, I can go back to pretending that he doesn’t exist. I just have to survive this hour long class. He’s hunched over with his arms and legs crossed and I know I should start drawing now, but I can’t. I can hear the sounds of pencils, pastels, pens and charcoal sticks on the paper, but my paper is still blank. My pencil is still in my hand. I cannot stop looking at him. Luckily, he’s not looking at me this time, so he doesn’t realise.

Really, I need to be professional. He’s a model and I am an art student. There’s nothing weird about this. I’ve seen so many naked people lately, he’s just another one in line.

But he’s the first person I actually know. I’m the only one in this room who sees Simon, not the model named Snow. He’s a bit different.

When he moves, I realise I’ve been staring at him for five minutes. I haven’t put down a single line on my paper. Not even a stick figure. Nothing.

The teacher hands him a stick for ‘action poses’ and our eyes briefly meet before Simon starts posing. Fuck. This really is a blast from the past. Simon always used to roam the grounds, squared up and ready to fight. One time he even fucking hit me with a branch and he got a week’s worth of detention. Simon’s posing for art, but he has the same determined look on his face.

Now that’s he’s standing, I can see even more of him.

He’s changed a little bit over the past few years. He’s still beefy, but he’s also rounder. His chest is fuller. He has a belly and I hate that my depraved mind immediately wants to touch it. His arms and thighs are thicker too.

I shouldn’t feel guilty observing him. He’s a model, for God’s sake. I need to draw him.

I get reminded that I will probably never see him again after this session and I hate how my heart breaks at the thought of that.

That’s what snaps me back into focus.

I want to memorise this. I need to capture this, now that I have the chance.

I finally start to draw.

The next day, Simon’s standing next to the door to my classroom. At least he’s fully clothed this time. He looks like a nightmare with an oversized hoodie, worn jeans, and battered trainers.

I still stop in my tracks when I see him.

What is he doing here?

He’s leaning against the wall, fidgeting with the strands of his hoodie. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so this is my way out. I can turn around, skip class, and pretend that this has never happened. But my curiosity gets the best of me. I still don’t know why he’s here in Omaha.

“Snow, isn’t it?” I say, just to piss him off.

It has the desired effect.

Simon puts on his usual scowl.

“What are you doing here?” he bites out, stunning me. Aren’t the I one who’s supposed to ask that question?

“I go here. What are you doing here?” After all, I’m pretty sure he isn’t a student here. It’s a small art school. I would’ve seen him before. Besides, most of the models aren’t students.

Simon doesn’t answer. Instead he narrows his eyes at me, as if he can’t believe me, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by this feeling of déjà vu. I’ve seen that look many, many times before.

A laugh escapes my mouth.

“Really, Salisbury, you don’t believe me?” I say indignantly.

He never used to believe me when he practically stalked me at school. That’s also unfortunately why I fell in love with him. A part of me had to admit to liking the attention.

That same part is present now.

I don’t believe that Simon specifically sought me out yesterday. He seemed genuinely shocked to see me. But now… the thought of him waiting for me is weirdly fond, even though I know it’s not him waiting for me in the context I want it to be.

Simon looks conflicted. He probably knows that I am telling the truth, but he doesn’t want to admit it, that prick.

“Now, if you’d excuse me, I have a class to attend,” I say coldly.

I try to walk to my classroom, but his hand is suddenly on my shoulder, stopping me, and my heartbeat accelerates. Please, do not make me blush. It’s already a miracle I survived seeing him naked, but him touching my shoulder is the thing that makes me flail?

“Baz…” he trails off. He still looks confused. At least he’s no longer looking annoyed by my presence, which is a bit rich since he’s the one who came to me. “Baz.”

“That’s my name,” I say.

“You- I- what-”

“Use your words, Salisbury,” I sneer.

And as expected, Simon retreats. He takes his hand off my shoulder and leans away. He looks pissed. I always know how to piss him off. I always know how to make him leave.

“Forget it,” he kicks the ground.

I enter my classroom without looking back.

To my utter surprise (and unfortunately, happiness), he turns up again. It’s been a week since his last visit, so I expected our little showdown to be the end of it, but no, here he is. Clothed. I can’t suppress my disappointed sigh.

Simon raises an eyebrow and I am glad that he probably thinks I’m disappointed to see him. He doesn’t need to know that I’ve been staring at my drawings of him on a daily basis. (I look back at all my drawings! It’s not weird or pervy! It’s art!)

“Do I need to call security, Salisbury?” I say snidely, “I don’t think they allow stalkers on the premises.”

“I’m not a stalker,” Simon sputters. It’s pathetic.

I grin. “Sure. Then what is this?”

“The teacher knows me!” Simon says defensively, “It’s normal for models to ask for feedback.”

“Right,” I raise an eyebrow in disbelief, “And you have so much experience with that.”

“Been modelling for a couple of years, mate, so yeah. I know a thing or two,” Simon says coldly and I put a lot of effort in not showing on my face how much I want to hear more about this, “It’s just an added extra that I can keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me?” I snort, “Salisbury, we’re no longer in school. We’re no longer in England. Unlike you, my adult life doesn’t revolve around my spiteful annoying boarding school roommate.” That’s a lie. “I tried to move on from that.” That isn’t. (Although, I suppose I failed.)

Simon’s trying so hard to look tough, but am not up for this bullshit.

“Why are you really here?” I say.

“I told you.”

The weirdest thing is that I think he’s telling the truth. Maybe he’s really here to talk about his modelling, which is apparently a regular occurrence, and to stalk me.

I suddenly feel very tired of this thing that we’ve got going on between us. I thought it was over once we left school, but no, it was just dormant, waiting to be reawakened. I don’t think I want it to come back.

I realise I don’t want to be a shithead.

I realise I don’t want to belittle him anymore.

I used to do it to get his attention, because bad attention was better than no attention at all, but now we’re years removed from our past and I realise I am tired.

Why would I be mean towards him? What does it bring me?

“Simon,” I say, sounding serious. I look him in the eyes. “Simon, it’s been years. Whatever weird grudge you had towards me should be over. You have no reason to keep a tab on me like this, and quite frankly, it’s weird. I’m in Omaha for a reason. I’ve changed. I barely talk to my father these days. You have nothing to worry and nothing to gain. Is that clear?”

His eyes widen. I think he’s processing what I just said.

“I… yeah, fuck, okay,” he looks away, “Okay, that’s clear.”

“If you want to talk more, fine, but I have class.”

“Cool. I’ll wait here.”

I stop in my tracks. I didn’t expect Simon to actually take that offer. It wasn’t even meant to be serious. But now I realise I once again get to see Simon, so I act like I planned this.

“Great. See you in an hour.”

Simon and I have gone to the same boarding school for eight years, but we never actually hung out or anything. The two of us walk in silence to an on-campus canteen and it’s weird, because we don’t really have any experience of walking together. We have time, since it’s lunchtime anyway. My next class starts in one and a half hour. We get to the canteen and Simon immediately orders food.

We decide to go back outside and sit on a stone bench outside.

Simon doesn’t beat around the bush.

“What are you doing here?” he sounds accusingly.

“I go here. I thought it was pretty obvious when I paid my lunch with my student card,” I retort.

His eyes scan my entire body and I try not to blush, which is ridiculous, because I’ve literally seen Simon naked. He’s still trying to see a crack in a non-existent façade. He knows I’m telling the truth and it’s almost sad to see how desperately he’s still trying to hold on to his own view of me.

I decide to put him out of his misery by turning the question back to him.

“How did you become a model?” I ask.

Simon half-shrugs. “I know the right people and I like my body.” He laughs. “I don’t have the brains, but I do have the bod. It’s not like university was going to do something.”

It’s a bad self-deprecating comment. Simon’s never been stupid. Not really. It’s so easy to make a rude comment about this, but I stop myself. Why should I? I meant what I said outside the classroom. The past is in the past. There is no reason for me to be a dick towards him. I don’t want to be one.

“How did you end up here, in Omaha?” I say, not too kindly, because that would probably throw him off, but I also don’t want to sounds to snide.

“Penny lives here,” he says with a half-shrug.

Of course. Some things never change. Where Penelope Bunce goes, Simon Salisbury follows.

“Well, then how did Bunce end up here, in Omaha?”

“Her husband is originally from Omaha,” Simon answers.

“I thought Hernandez lived in Chicago?” I say and Simon looks up in surprise.

“You remember Micah?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

I shrug nonchalantly. How can I forget Micah? Simon seems to forget that before I realised that I was in love with him, the stalking was mutual. I felt like I needed to know everything about Simon, to relate back to my family. In turn this meant that I also knew almost everything about his friends and acquaintances. During fifth year, I gave up on trying to know everything.

Simon still looks a bit stunned, but after a few second he looks back to his food and mutters: “We don’t talk about Micah Hernandez anymore. Penny wouldn’t have it. And Shepard is a much better man for her.”

I hum. I don’t know what else to say. Should I congratulate him on Penelope’s behalf? Does she even know I’m here?

Simon answers that question for me.

“She thinks I’m mental for this, by the way,” he says, “She said, and I quote, ‘what are you thinking, meeting up with Basilton Pitch from school? The ten percent rule still stands!’”

“Ten percent rule?”

“Back at school, Penny had a rule that only ten percent of our conversations were allowed to be about you,” Simon says. I supress a grin. They had a rule about me? I know it’s once again not in the context I want it to be, but it still amuses me a lot that Simon was so obsessed with stalking me that it pissed off his best friend. Simon doesn’t notice my reaction. Instead, he continues: “I told her that we met during one of my modelling gigs at the art school, and that I wanted to know how you’d end up there. So, how did you end up here?”

“I could still ask the same of you,” I say, avoiding the question, “I know why you’re in Omaha, I know why you’re an art model, but why are you an art model in Omaha? Like, how did that happen?”

Simon doesn’t notice my avoidance, or maybe he doesn’t care. (That’s unlikely. He’s still Simon Salisbury, the one who needs to know everything.)

“After I left school, I didn’t know what to do. When Penny took pity on me and asked me to move to America with her, I knew I needed to do it. I needed a fresh start. I was sick and tired of people knowing me and knowing why I left school. I thought I’d finish American high school and maybe enrol at community college here, but I’m not made for that. I’m not booksmart. I’m not studious. As you kept reminding me at school, people like me don’t belong in places like that.”

“Simon, I’m sorr-”

“Spare me,” Simon snaps. It’s the first time during this entire conversation that he’s lost his temper. He looks annoyed and I look away in shame. “You made it very fucking clear that you believed that ‘people like me’ didn’t belong at a prestigious school like Watford. I know what you thought of me back at school.”

He doesn’t.

I thought he was the most wonderful person in the world, but since I was so hellbent on hiding that, I pretended to think he was worthless.

Well, I did also think he was worthless. It was easier to think about that than the ever growing feelings.

“You know, I really fucking hated you for that,” Simon says. I look back and he’s still staring at me. He has his arms crossed. He looks very defensive. This also brings me back to our Watford days. He’s given me this exact same look and attitude many times, and rightfully so. “You and your people didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. Me being a poor orphan from the north was such an immense threat to the fancy, rich elite. What for?”

I wish I could answer that, but I can’t. I just… believed it. That’s how I was brought up. My father was already in hot waters, since a Grimm was deemed lower than a Pitch. My mother married down for love, and the entire elite thought she was mad for doing so. That’s why my father became the man he is today. He also felt the need to prove himself, so he doubled down the elite’s ideas about how the world should be, and he taught me to do the same.

I was a Grimm-Pitch. People like Simon were the enemy to my wealth and status. Watford was my school, since the list of headmasters and headmistresses is basically a Pitch family tree, so it was up to me to make sure that others knew so. Watford was my right, but stupid David Cadwallader became headmaster after my mother’s murder and when he decided to open the school to less wealthy students, my family basically fucking flipped.

And then one day, Simon arrived.

The first kid with a scholarship.

My family told me to keep an eye on ‘the likes of him’.

I want to laugh. Now I’m in my twenties and I have realised that my family was wrong to raise me like that, but back when I was a kid, that was my life. People like Simon were a threat. I didn’t ask why. I just accepted it.

“You’re silent,” Simon says, “You can’t even give me an excuse for making me feel like shit for years? For making me believe that I was indeed worthless and not good enough?”

“You’re right,” I say quietly, “I cannot give you an excuse for that. There isn’t any.”

Simon narrows his eyes. He’s probably wondering what blow I’ll deliver next, but there’s no secret plan here. There’s no ulterior motive.

“Sal- I mean, Simon, I told you that haven’t spoken to my father in years. During university, I realised that my family is wrong. I obviously cannot easily right the past, but believe me that I am working on improving the future.”

Simon lets out a disbelieved laugh.

“Jesus fuck, Baz, that’s such a corny thing to say.”

“Well it’s true. And to answer your earlier question, after I graduated from Oxford I realised I didn’t want to step into my father’s footsteps. Luckily, a certain escalation between us made my father give up on me as well, so I was able to move overseas and start art. My poor father thinks I’m doing a law degree, but he isn’t interested enough to verify. Trust me, I didn’t expect you to walk in as my model.”

“Right,” Simon doesn’t sound angry anymore. I think he believes me. “Yeah, Shepard’s the reason that I started modelling. He kept telling me that I was, and I quote, ‘a fucking hottie’. He knows a lot of people in the area so he made some calls and here I am.”

“You’re a great model, Salisbury.”

Simon searches my face for a trace of sarcasm, but there isn’t any to find.

“You think so?”

I nod. He has no idea.

The next thing I know, I’m taking out my sketchpad and I flip to the page with his sketches.

“See for yourself, Snow.”

Simon gives me a cheeky grin. I know some models use ‘stage names’, so I wonder why he picked Snow.

He looks at my drawings with an impressed look on his face.

“Not half bad, although you’re missing a pose.”

Yes, the hunched one. I was too busy staring in disbelief. I can’t believe he knows that. His session was over a week ago.

“Can I?” he asks. He’s about to flip the page. I nod.

Simon browses through my work and I drink my tea in silence. I don’t expect him to be an art critic, but it still feels strange to have him inspect my work. I barely show people what I draw. People back in England obviously don’t know and I woefully have to say that I haven’t made friends in Omaha yet. Only some classmates have seen my work during evaluations.

“Cool,” is all that he says when he hands back my sketchpad.

“Cool?”

Simon shrugs. “Yeah.” Then he checks his watch. “Look, I gotta go. I have another little gig, but I’ll speak to you later?”

I want to ask where he’s going. I want to ask why he’s so certain we’ll speak again. Instead of doing that, I just say my goodbyes.

Most models don’t return after a session.

Simon does.

I’m still surprised to see him, because I didn’t know he’d return. This time I don’t make a fool out of myself though. Simon gets ready and he winks when our eyes meet.

What the fuck.

Today is all about lightning, so the teacher is positioning lamps in different places. In one pose, the light shines from behind him. It’s almost as if he’s surrounded by a halo. He is beautiful and I cannot believe I get to draw this.

My mind goes on autopilot. I cannot afford to think too much about this, because I don’t need him to know how nervous I am, seeing him like this. He looks like a dream. So I don’t focus too much on him and I let my pencil move on the paper as if it’s nothing. The hour passes in a blur.

I turn my back to him while I pack my things. I don’t need him to see me flustered like this. It has the desired effect, because when I turn around, he’s gone. I let out a sigh of relief.

This way, he doesn’t have to know what I’m about to do. I step towards my teacher.

“Can I ask you something, sir?”

“Sure,” my teacher says back.

“I really liked today’s model. Snow is amazing. Do you know where I can find more of his modelling?”

My teacher scratches his chin. “I know he’s been in some books about figure drawing and anatomy. And I know he has a lot of photos in one database. That’s actually how we know him. We regularly ask for models from that website. Do you want to learn more?”

I nod eagerly. “I really enjoy figure drawing. I’d like to do more outside of class. I’m already dreading the end of our figure drawing classes. Of course, I’m looking forward to the still life module, but the figure drawing one is so well done.”

The teacher smiles when he hears that. I’ve always been good at sweet talking the teachers. (Although, I actually really do enjoy figure drawing.)

My teacher writes something down on a paper slip.

“Here. You do need a paid subscription to access the models,” he says apologetically, “I’d love to give you my log in, but I’d rather not have you see my credit card info. Maybe if more people are interested, I can see if the school can provide.”

“Thank you,” I accept the paper slip. Money isn’t an issue. My father never cut me off financially, so I’m well-off. I want to laugh at the thought of my father financing this. Thank you for giving me the money to look at naked men!

That evening, I’m scrolling through hundreds of photos of Simon and I try to not feel like a creep.

It’s art, I remind myself, If this had been any other model, I wouldn’t feel this guilty! And I have liked other models before. A lot do great work!

And then a treasonous part of my mind adds: Yeah, but you weren’t in love with Kristine, were you?

My somewhat-rational brain argues back: Well, I paid for this. He works, I pay to see it!

But then: Out of context, that sounds even worse!

I groan and I try to make it less weird by taking out my sketchpad. If I actually draw him, then it wouldn’t be so awkward. After all, that’s what these photos are for, and he has a lot of versatility in his poses. I’m not in class. There’s no timer. I can take as long as I want. And now I don’t have to worry about him looking back at me.

The figure drawing class end, but I continue drawing anyway. I have over 200 photos of ‘Snow’ to go through. And even when I’m not drawing him, I realised that I really, really loved figure drawing. When I’m out and about in the world, I draw the people I see.

I’m sitting in a café and I’m drawing a man and a woman who are seated close to me. I am so caught up in their unintentional poses, I don’t notice three other people sitting down at the table next to mine.

“Nice work! You’ve gotten better.”

I look up to see Simon staring at my sketchpad from his table. Penelope and a man I don’t recognise also try to get a look, so I close my sketchpad. I put it on the table, closed, and the man nods in understanding. He’s not allowed to see.

Only Simon is allowed to see my stuff.

“Thanks,” I say, because what else can I say? I don’t want to tell him that I’ve improved thanks to his photos.

“Oh, you must be Baz,” the unfamiliar man moves his chair closer to mine and he holds out his hand, “Shepard Bunce.”

“Basilton Pitch,” I say, a bit bewildered. I didn’t expect to run into Simon and his friends and I definitely didn’t expect Simon and his friends to talk to me.

“Heard a lot about you,” Shepard says cheerfully. I look over to Simon and Penelope. Simon shrugs and Penelope looks weirdly pent-up about all of this. I don’t think she’s happy to see me.

“All good things, I hope,” I joke.

“Not really,” Penelope mutters and Simon elbows her.

“That’s fair,” I relent.

“I half-expected you to be a figment of Simon’s imagination,” Penelope continues. She stares at me with a look that could kill. “I hoped that it was just Simon’s childhood obsession with you, making him believe things. Yet, here you are.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Bunce, I didn’t plan to run into Salisbury either.”

“He has a first name, you know!” Penelope exclaims.

“He can speak for himself,” Simon adds.

Shepard is looking between me, Penelope and Simon with a confused smile on his face.

“Huh, I guess I should’ve taken this whole nemesis thing more seriously.”

“No worries, Shep, Baz and I talked it out,” Simon says easily and I raise my eyebrow. Did we? I knew that our conversation at the coffee shop ended on a positive note, but I didn’t expect Simon to move on from it so easily.

“Right,” Penelope mirrors my disbelief.

“Well, in that case, come sit with us!” Shepard says. Penelope lets out a sigh. I don’t care about her. I’m taking this opportunity to be closer to Simon. I don’t have a lot of opportunities to observe him with clothes on.

Simon’s animosity towards me has basically evaporated. I’m not complaining, but I am a little confused. I didn’t expect Simon to brush off years of nastiness and rivalry. He’s talking a lot about his job and Shepard chimes in every now and then.

“I even have a folder on my phone with his best work!” Shepard says excitedly.

“At this rate, Shep pretends to be my unofficial agent.”

“Dude, I could be your agent!”

“No, Shep, we’ve been over this,” Simon says and Penelope also sighs.

The two bicker a lot and thanks to Simon I know that Shepard is married to Penelope, otherwise I would easily mistake them for a playfully bickering couple. I don’t say much, but it’s strangely nice to sit here. Simon’s letting me be part of his life, which is something I’ve only dreamed of. I’m still a bit surprised by Simon’s change of heart, but I’ll take it.

Penelope sees the easy smile on my face and she raises an eyebrow.

I shrug back.

“Look, that muffin’s practically calling my name!” Simon says at one point. Both Penelope and I turn our attention back to him. Simon’s staring longingly at the pastries and sweets on display. “Shep, I cannot hold it in anymore.”

“Fucking go for it, Si,” Shepard says.

“Anyone want anything?” Simon looks at me or Penelope.

“No thanks, Simon, nice of you to ask,” Penelope replies and I hum in agreement.

The moment Simon’s out of earshot, Penelope shoots me another look that could kill and she bluntly says: “Simon doesn’t like you.”

I’m so taken aback by this brash behaviour that I don’t have the mental capacities to come up with a retort.

“Penelope…” Shepard sighs and he puts a hand on his wife’s arm.

“Simon doesn’t like you,” Penelope repeats in the same deadpan tone, “He just acts like he does because he always feels like he has to prove himself. He’s always been like that. He wants to shove it in your face that he’s happy and successful. He said so himself.”

I am at loss for words and I look at Shepard, who doesn’t want to meet my eyes. He looks like he’s going to pass out from second-hand embarrassment.

Oh.

“I told him that it’s not a healthy thing to do and that he should just give up on trying to impress you. It’s been years, and yet, here we are again. So I’m telling you this directly, so that hopefully you’ll be the one to end this before it gets out of hand.”

“Right,” I say, numbed.

“I don’t want a repeat of that fucking fist fight of our fifth year. You never apologised for that!”

I punched Simon in the face when he wouldn’t leave me alone to figure out my feelings. Of course he punched back.

“I will,” I say.

Penelope snorts in disbelief.

“No, you won’t. You know what you’ll do? You’ll stay the fuck away from him, so that Simon won’t have a reason to act like this.”

Right.

Yes.

I should… do that.

As much as I hate to admit it, it makes sense. Simon’s always been great with holding grudges, especially when it comes to me. He is always suspicious of me, even now. He’s doing the same thing again, trying to get closer to me only to keep an eye on me. This time, he’s just using a different guise. It’s clever, but it hurts.

Of course Simon doesn’t easily forgive and forget out rivalry at school.

“Shep, I got you the peanut butter one,” Simon says cheerfully. He’s holding two muffins, but he frowns when he sees us. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, “But I have to run. Salisbury, Bunce, it was nice seeing you again-” Penelope laughs bitterly. She doesn’t even hide her distaste, unlike Simon. “-and Shepard, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Shepard says awkwardly. Simon frowns.

“Yeah. Bye.” I grab my coat and my bag and practically run out of the coffee shop.

When I’m finally home, I realise I left my sketchpad on that table.

Penelope, Shepard and Simon are gone when I get back to the coffee shop.

So is my sketchpad.

I have to focus very hard on not cursing loudly in public. And who knows, maybe I am wrong. I walk towards the counter and I ask if someone’s found a lost item, but the barista apologetically tells me no.

“No sketchpad?” I ask, just to be sure.

“No, sorry. Nothing’s here.”

I think I am staring into nothingness out of shock, because the barista is talking to me, but I cannot hear a word. I just nod, hoping that it makes sense to nod, and then I walk away in silence. I should’ve put my address or phone number in that sketchpad, but no, I am an idiot.

I don’t know what’s worse: Simon finding my sketchpad, or a complete stranger else finding my sketchpad.

Wait, no. I definitely know the answer.

Simon finding my sketchpad. That’s worse. I’d rather have all my drawings go missing, than have Simon see my many drawings of him. Especially since I added comments about his body! (Good ones. Nice ones. It’s mortifying.)

I don’t know what to do. I can’t call him or anything. All I can do is hope that he stalks me again.

Of course, he stalks me again.

He’s standing in front of my classroom and I my stomach drops when I see that he’s holding my sketchpad. He’s looking around and when he sees me, he smiles.

Penelope’s words ring in my head.

It’s all a lie.

“Finally!” he says when I approach.

“Finally?”

“I’ve been here for two hours or so,” Simon sighs, “I don’t know your schedule and your teacher didn’t want to give it to me, which is actually super fair, so I’ve just been waiting for you here.”

“That’s insane, Salisbury. You could’ve just handed my sketchpad to my teacher.”

Simon’s smile drops.

“Not that I’m not grateful,” I quicky add, “I am very, very grateful that you’re so thoughtful.”

Simon nods.

“No, you’re right. It definitely would’ve saved me two hours of my day,” he says with a laugh. He holds out my sketchpad. “Here.”

“Thanks,” I take it.

“You need it for class.”

“Yeah.” That’s not true. I have more sketchpads, including one for this particular class, since I will have to hand it in at the end of the course. Simon obviously didn’t know. It’s very nice of him to think so, though. He really wanted to give it back to me so that I wouldn’t get in trouble.

Or so I hope. Maybe this is also an act.

“Bye then.”

“Bye,” I say back.

I try to move past him, but he must’ve changed his mind, because he stops me before I can enter the classroom.

“Wait, I need to, uh, confess something,” he says.

I tilt my head in fake confusion. I think I know what he’s about to say. I’ve had a day to think about Penelope’s words and I am going to follow her advice by no longer seeking Simon out, but if Simon admits to it, then we can try to figure something out together.

(It’s pathetic how badly I want that.)

So I wait for him to tell me his version of Penelope’s story.

But he surprises me.

“I saw your drawings,” Simon blurts out, “Of, uh, me.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” I instinctively say.

“Don’t be. They’re really good. I should be sorry that I went through your stuff, but I swear it was an accident! I, uh, dropped your sketchpad and it opened on one of your drawings of me and curiosity got the best of me. I didn’t expect to see all those drawings from my poses of a database.”

Simon gives me a knowing look. He knows I paid to see his work.

I can be embarrassed about it, but again, it’s all fine. It’s all professional. It’s art, and Simon’s great at his work.

“You’re a really good model,” I say, making sure that I sound dead serious. He is. Then I decide to be bold and add: “You don’t have to, like, prove anything to anyone.”

Simon’s eyes widen. I wonder if he caught up on what I’m referring to. It might be easier to just tell him that Penelope told me the truth, but I am taking the opportunity to talk a bit longer before I let him go.

“You think so?” Simon sounds surprised. An easy smile forms on his face.

I hold out my sketchpad.

“You’ve seen it for yourself. You’re amazing, Simon. Your poses are so versatile. There are classic art poses and action poses. Your poses are amazing when you’re standing or sitting or even lying down. Your body is amazing and you can easily visualise the gesture lines. When you use props, you are great at using them in your poses without the props pulling the focus of your body. You’re gorgeous.”

I cut myself off. I didn’t mean to add that last part.

Simon’s not looking at me anymore. He’s looking at my outstretched hand with my sketchpad.

I should leave. Class is about to start. Today’s model is already getting ready.

“This is the moment where I should say something really profound,” Simon says, still looking at my sketchpad, “But all I can think of is, you know, thank you for making my tits look nice in your drawings.”

I bark out a laugh.

“You’re welcome, Snow,” I manage to say through my laughs.

“But, uhm, thanks for saying that. I sometimes get such weird reactions when I tell them I’m a naked art model, so it’s nice to hear that I’m doing a great job.”

“You are,” I say.

He finally looks back to me and he has a smile on his face. I think it’s genuine. It makes me smile as well. The two of us are standing in the doorway, smiling like mad. Simon’s about to say something, but then my teacher cuts in.

“Mr. Pitch, are you going to stand here all day or are you going to attend today’s lesson?” my teacher says, but he has an amused look on his face. Then he turns to Simon. “And Snow, what a surprise.”

“Just checking in, sir,” Simon says politely.

“And checking in with one of my most promising students, I see,” my teacher says proudly. Both my teacher and Simon look at me and I try not to squirm. I am not fond of this unexpected attention. (Although my ego loves the praise.) (I just didn’t need Simon to be here.). “I gave him the link to your work for that database.”

“I’ve noticed that he has access,” Simon says and I hold back an uneasy grin. I never wanted Simon to know. “He’s really good.”

“So are you,” I tell him again.

“A match made in heaven, I see!” the teacher jokes and Simon and I look at each other, only to both quickly look away. The teacher doesn’t notice and we say goodbye to Simon. Then it’s time for class to start.

I try to draw today’s model, but my mind is occupied. I think Simon and I have come to an agreement after all these years. Our past is fully behind us. Simon might’ve tried to mess with me again, but now that he’s seen my drawings, he hopefully knows he doesn’t have to.

And I feel weirdly sad about it.

I know I’ve always antagonised Simon to get his attention and after school I missed him. I missed making him notice me. And then I moved on. And then he shows up again.

And then he leaves again. This time, there seems to be some sort of resolution, which means that this is probably the end of whatever the fuck we’ve had going on since we were eleven. Should I have given him a more proper goodbye?

By the end of the session, I’ve barely drawn more than some stick figures. It’s a shame, because today’s model had some great poses. I close my sketchpad before my proud teacher can see my lacklustre work and I rush out of the room.

Turns out that all the dramatics were for naught, because Simon is once again standing in front of the door to the classroom.

“Déjà vu, Salisbury. Are you sure you’re not stalking?” I joke in order to hide my surprise and also excitement.

“Yeah, I don’t have your number, so this will have to do,” Simon says and he rubs his neck, which is a classic Nervous Salisbury action. I raise an eyebrow.

“Alright.”

“Look. I really need to talk to you.”

I look around. Other students are already getting ready.

“Salisbury, can it wait?” I ask.

He seems taken aback.

“Oh, uh, sure.”

And… disappointed?

I nod towards the classroom. “It’s just that I have class. And it sounds kinda serious. Are you okay with waiting for an hour?”

“Right,” Simon looks at the other students as if they just appeared out of thin air, “Class. Obviously. I hadn’t thought of that. Stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I automatically say, thinking back to our first big talk.

Simon gives me a small smile. “Thanks, man. But yeah, I’ll wait.”

For a second day in a row, my drawings are shit because my mind is fully occupied by Simon Salisbury. Simon sounded so serious, it bothers me. What business is left? Yesterday, we wrapped it all up and tied it together with a nice bow, and now Simon needs to talk to me? I try to banish every thought of Simon and focus purely on Kristine. (I mean, she came back, and I don’t care enough! That’s shameful!)

When class is finally over, I basically run out of the door. I’m shoving my stuff inside my bag as I walk. Simon’s waiting and he’s holding two takeaway cups. He holds one out to me when he sees me.

“I hope you still like caramelised pear flavoured tea,” he says, “Can’t believe they had that flavour.”

“Another perk of this school,” I joke, “I can’t believe you remember.”

“We roomed together for seven years, Baz. Your side of the room always smelled like caramelised pear and salt and vinegar crisps. Honestly not the best combination.”

I thank him for the tea, especially when he insists that I don’t have to pay him back, and we walk back to the spot we had our first big talk. It’s a bit awkward. Simon’s clearly nervous about something and I am still processing the fact that he’s once again here, beside me. We sit down and Simon’s staring into thin air. He’s not even getting food, so should I be worried?

I touch his arm and he startles. I quickly pull my hand away.

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“That’s new,” I say and I regret it immediately. I think it’s just the nerves of not knowing what the fuck is happening, which is bringing me back to the snide jabs. I turn to apologise, but to my surprise, he barks out a laugh.

“I know right,” he says, as if we’re sharing an inside joke. This entire situation gets weirder and weirder.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Simon lets out a long sigh. He looks at me with a serious look on his face. “Penny told me that she’s… told you.”

“Told what?”

I feign ignorance. I just need him to say it for himself. It’s not that I don’t believe Penelope, but I need to hear the confirmation from him. I need him to admit that he’s messing with me.

Simon looks uncomfortable. He probably doesn’t want to spell it out.

I give him time.

“You know,” he says awkwardly, “The… thing.”

“The thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Salisbury, I don’t want to have to say it, but use your words, please.”

Simon shoots me a quick, nasty look but then he pouts and says: “The fact that I act like we’re good only so that I can rub it in your face that I am thriving despite what you and your people used to say. There. I said it. I used my words.”

He’s still looking at me, and he looks both annoyed and embarrassed.

“It’s not- we don’t… ah fuck.” Simon groans and rubs his temple. He lets out a shaky laugh. I don’t like this new vibe. “Penny is right, as usual.”

I stop myself from repeating the dreaded ‘use your words’ and instead I take a sip of my tea. I wait for him to find the words. Simon’s never been good with words and it’s one of the many things I used against him at Watford until Penelope Bunce came up to me in our sixth year to tell me that I am a disgusting piece of shit for doing so, since he just never had anyone to speak to for the first eleven years of his life.

Penelope Bunce never spilled the secrets about Simon’s past, except for that moment. I really ticked her off. (Penelope Bunce still hates me. I gave her enough reasons to do so.)

Simon opens his mouth several times to talk, but it takes a while.

“Sorry, I’m not good with admitting that I was wrong,” he says eventually.

“Me neither,” I say.

“Yeah, but you managed to do so,” Simon says bitterly, “You told me you were no longer like your family and I didn’t believe you.”

“You had no reason to. I had quite the reputation of being a dick.”

Simon ignores me and continues his talk. Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted his flow.

“So I decided to prove to you once and for all that I am having a great fucking life, because after all, my sheer existence seemed to piss you and your people off. I was going to be so fucking decent to you, showing off my success and my achievements. I was going to kill you with kindness.”

He’s threatened to kill me a lot during school, but never with kindness. Fuck, it shouldn’t make me feel this way, but it does. Simon’s never good with talking, but he’s good at words. Once he starts, he is on a roll.

“But then I saw your sketchpad and the things you said to me yesterday… you were never bullshitting me. I should’ve left it after our first talk. My own cynicism wanted to believe you were still plotting my downfall, but your drawings showed me the opposite. You already believed I’m doing a great job. Why else would you go out of your way to find more of my work?”

Because I’m deranged and in love with you and I saw an opportunity to see more of you, I think to myself. I don’t say it out loud because I don’t want to interrupt Simon, but also for obvious reasons.

“And, as Penny said, even if you were seething at my existence from a distance, why should I care? We’re no longer in school. We’re no longer roommates. We don’t owe each other shit. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

I nod. I wait for Simon to say more, but after a few seconds I realise he’s done. He sees me staring.

“So, that’s that,” he adds lamely.

“That’s that,” I repeat.

“I mean, I know I just said we don’t owe each other shit, but I just wanted you to know this. I’m sorry. It was actually quite nice to not be hateful towards you for once, even though my intentions were… questionable.”

A warm feelings wells up in me. Simon liked being kind to me, even though he was only trying to kill me with it? I never thought I’d see the day!

I smile, even though I try not to. Simon notices and he raises an eyebrow.

“I liked it too. I liked being nice to you,” I tell him.

Old habits die hard, because Simon looks like he has a hard time believing me and I still don’t blame him.

“You did?” he asks, sounding dumbfounded, “But you hate me. Or hated me.”

“I never hated you,” I say earnestly. If only he knows. The only feeling of hatred that I’ve experienced in relation to him is hating that I am in love with him. I wished I never realised it. Even now, it’s anguish to love him and for me to not act on it. “I was a kid parroting people I trusted. I think I did believe them once, but I never fully understood why I was supposed to hate you. Again, sorry for everything that happened back at school.”

“Thanks.”

We finish our teas in silence and I think that this is really it. Simon and I have said everything we’ve wanted to say to each other. I have a class to attend and Simon is modelling somewhere else. I had no clue Omaha is the place to be for art models, but apparently Shepard really knows everyone.

I throw our cups in the bin and we say our goodbyes, but I don’t feel like yesterday. Yesterday I was convinced that that was the end of Simon Salisbury being part of my life, but now I feel like we’ve started something new.

Well.

The universe is playing another fucking joke on me, because the semester’s ended and I haven’t seen Simon in three weeks. It’s painfully ironic, honestly. The moment I lament that I will never see him again, he shows up the day after. The moment I am hopeful that we might be able to start anew, he doesn’t come back.

Maybe I misinterpreted our last talk. Simon did speak about how we now no longer need to be part of each other’s lives. Everything’s been said. I just hoped that we could try to be friends, since we both admitted to liking each other’s company, but maybe that is just wistful thinking. Love makes you hopeful and in turn hope makes you stupid.

It’s our last figure drawing class and today’s model is incredibly talented and fit, but it just makes me accept that Simon probably has no reason to show up at this classroom ever again. If he’s not here for me, he’s here for his job, but that job is over.

I won’t stop figure drawing, though, that’s for sure. This class has definitely awoken something in me. Every time I am out and about and I see other people, I start drawing them in my head. I have ordered books on anatomy. I have obsessively drawn all the photos of Simon that are available, so I have branched out to other models on that website. Maybe I’ll look for another figure drawing club of sorts. (And maybe, just maybe I’ll run into Simon there.)

At the end of the session, all of us hand in our final sketchpads for grading and then I leave. A part of me still wishes that Simon were waiting outside the door, but of course that’s not true. I’m losing my fucking mind. Simon probably thinks I don’t want him to be around.

The moment I walk out of the classroom, I fish my mobile out of my pocket. I am done waiting. I think it’s time for me to be a bit more proactive. And I know I told Penelope I’d back off, but that was before Simon came clean and we talked about it. I want to be around him. (I want to be with him, but that’s another story.)

I waited. I don’t know why I keep expecting Simon to show up like he used to. Maybe I’ve gotten too used to Simon stalking me, seeking me out, waiting for me when I least expect it. But that’s in the past. It’s up to me now. It all starts with a simple thing: Google.

Simon Salisbury’s Instagram account immediately pops up, but it’s private. Snow’s Instagram on the other hand is not. His public profile is (unfortunately) safe for work to adhere to Instagram’s guidelines, but he has a linktree in his bio which leads to some contact information about his modelling work. I’m not here for professional business, but it’s all that I have and I’m relieved.

Do I send a follow request to his personal one, or will I just be upfront and immediately message him? And if I do, what will I say? It’s over for Simon. It’s done. Can I just barge in and go ‘hey, so, let’s be friends now that we admit to not wanting to kill the other’?

Maybe I should take a different approach.

I form a plan on my way home.

I send Simon’s professional e-mail account an e-mail, telling Simon that I’ve grown to absolutely love figure drawing, and I ask if he knows any clubs or courses or what not around Omaha. After all, I mention in my e-mail that he and Shepard are very in the know. If anyone in all of Omaha knows where to find other figure drawing enthusiasts, it’s him. (And Shepard, but alas.)

It’s short and cordial and very professional, so I won’t be absolutely crushed if he doesn’t reply. (That’s a lie.)

That evening, my mobile pings. I have a reply. I hope Simon doesn’t send e-mails like this to other professionals, because it’s nothing more than a time, a date, an address and the line ‘I will be here for a modelling gig for a free figure drawinf club’, including the typo.

I check my agenda and I am delighted to see that I have time.

The days leading up to the class, I’m anxious. It’s a free for all, but I did e-mail the club to ask if I was welcome. I am. This means I get to see Simon again. Maybe it’s a bit sad how much I am longing for this. Penelope told Simon that his obsession with me is unhealthy, but I wonder if she knows that this obsession is a two-way street.

I formulate a plan. I’m going to draw him and then I’m going to ask him for coffee. It’s not a date (since my life cannot be perfect), but maybe it’ll lead to us actually being friends. Every time I think about us being friends, a giddy laugh escapes my mouth. It’s dangerous to be so hopeful, but I am committed to being pro-active for once.

The day of the session is finally here. We’re with a group of seven and we’re all circled around Simon. He changes the direction of his poses every now and then, so that everyone can see multiple angles. I expected to be a bit more distracted by him, but I’ve seen him naked plenty of times by now, so I manage to get through it in one piece.

It’s honestly fun. I should come back next week.

After an hour, Simon puts on a robe and he checks out some of the drawings. When he’s looking at mine, he smiles.

“Tiddies!”

I snort.

“You have great tits, Snow, we’ve already established that.”

Simon leans closer and he lowers his voice. “At least you are dedicated to drawing my tiddies and other body fat. Some try to draw me like I’m one of those Hemsworth brothers. They’re fit, but they’re not me.”

“No worries, I will make sure your tits are always taken care of.”

Simon laughs and it sounds like music to my ears. It’s a genuine laugh. He’s about to move to the next person, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

“What are you doing after this?” I quickly ask.

“Asking me out on a date?” Simon teases, but I can feel my face turn hot. Simon notices and the big oaf immediately starts apologising. “Sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t- I’m just joking! Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” I say. God, if only he knows. I can be bold and tell him that it could be a date, but Simon was clearly joking around and I don’t want to scare him off. “But there’s this nice coffee shop across the corner. I’m starving. Wanna come along?”

Simon nods eagerly. “Sure.”

Then he continues his lacklustre feedback, but everyone forgives him for it. I get my stuff and wait for him to get dressed. I talk to some others and it’s really cool to exchange some tips about drawing. It looks like some others have been figure drawing for years, so they have a lot to say.

“Ready?” Simon appears, fully clothed. He looks horrendous as usual.

I say goodbye to the others and Simon and I talk about this figure drawing club as we walk to the coffee shop. To no one’s surprise, Shepard knows the person who started it, and that’s how Simon started modelling there. It’s a free club, but you can donate, which helps paying the models.

“It looks great on my resume,” Simon shrugs, “And since my dad died, money isn’t really an issue. He had a huge inheritance. Still, please donate so that other models can get some extra dough.”

“Your dad?” I ask. I know that Simon’s an orphan and that he went back to care during summers. I used to give him shit for that too. I really was a terrible person.

“Yeah, long story short, but fucking David Cadwallader is my dad. I found out, like, a year ago.”

“Daft Davy is your fucking dad?” I exclaim, just when we enter the coffee shop. I turn some heads, but well, I know how to make an entrance. I hold open the door for Simon.

I do vaguely remember my parents mentioning that a long lost son was found, but back then I had already distanced myself from them and from what I got, the identity of the son was confidential. It must’ve driven my family mad. They would’ve loved the opportunity to continue their hatred even after David Cadwallader had died. (And that led to Simon losing the scholarship and him getting kicked out.)

“Yeah, I’ll tell you the full story one day,” Simon says. I suppress a smile. Is Simon planning on seeing me again?

We order and when we sit down, we go back to talking about mundane things. It’s actually quite nice.

But then Simon drops the bomb.

“Baz,” he asks at one point, “Why did you stop talking to your father?”

I suck in a breath. It isn’t that complicated, to be honest, but I don’t like to think about it. Despite all the shit that happened in my family, I loved my family, and sometimes I have to admit to myself that I miss them. I miss Daphne. I miss the girls. I miss Fiona, Dev, Marcus and holy shit even my father sometimes.

I sometimes wonder if they miss me. But if they do, do they really miss me or do they miss the perfect version of me that they tried to create?

“He wanted me to get married,” I say.

Simon frowns.

There’s another part to this story. Simon won’t like this.

“To Agatha Wellbelove.”

Simon’s frown deepens. Agatha Wellbelove is Simon’s ex and we both know it. He broke up with her when he found out that he had to leave school.

“Oh.”

“We started dating in our final year at school, but it wasn’t- we didn’t love each other. It was a power thing. My father and Mrs. Wellbelove apparently planned our futures behind our backs and we were too tired to fight them. We knew that we didn’t love each other, so it was a fake relationship to keep our families happy.”

“Dr. Wellbelove would never,” Simon mutters under his breath. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear it, so I don’t react. Instead, I talk more.

“But when the wedding plans started, I realised that my family was never going to ask me what I actually want in life. I had gone along with their plans my entire life, because why not, they were my family, but I had already started to doubt their ideas and when the marriage thing happened, I realised they would never fully care about the real me. Agatha agreed.”

“Do you… uh… still hear from her?” Simon asks.

I feel a stab of jealousy. Of course he wants to hear about his ex-girlfriend.

“Sometimes. We parted on good terms, and we liked each other enough to do this fake dating thing, but we were never friends. We did promise each other to invite each other on our actual weddings.”

“Is that in the cards for you?”

“If this is your way of asking if I’m single…”

Simon shrugs. “Gotta keep my Baz file up to date.”

I laugh. He also breaks a smile.

“No, no boyfriend, so no future husband.”

I wait for him to react to my simple coming out, but he nods as if I’ve just told him some mundane fact about the weather.

“Yeah, makes sense,” he says.

What makes sense? I want to ask him. Me being gay or the whole marriage thing leading to me distancing myself from the family? Or me being single? Or all of them?

Instead I ask: “And you? Any possible future wedding bells ringing? I need to know for my Simon file.”

Simon shakes his head and I have to school my expression because I don’t want to show him how euphoric this makes me feel, which is ridiculous, I know.

“Some people are really put off by the whole naked model thing,” Simon shrugs. I nod and take a sip from my drink. That’s a mistake, because I almost choke on my drink when Simon says: “My last boyfriend said that he didn’t want to share me, so I in turn told him that I didn’t want him to own me.”

I put my cup down and it becomes very difficult to not show my shock. I thought I was the one dropping the whole sexuality bomb, but of course, Simon needs to upstage me.

Simon either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care about my shock, because he continues his small rant about how it’s ridiculous that people cannot place nudity in another context than a sexual one and about how modelling for art is such a non-sexual job and how he actually likes that there are clear boundaries between object and subject and I nod along while my mind is reeling.

“But that aside, one woman from the figure drawing club gave me her number and I might give her a call. Or not,” he finishes his story, “Did you like the club?”

We turn back to figure drawing, which is fine by me, because I don’t want to think about Simon calling the other woman. Figure drawing is a safe topic, although if I’d told past me that one day I’d talk with Simon about relationships as if we were friends, I wouldn’t have believed me.

At one point, Simon’s mobile pings.

“Ah, Penny,” Simon says as he reads his screen, “I promised her I’d come over after work. I completely forgot to let her know that I’m running late. I should go.”

“Right.”

Simon’s getting up to leave and I decide to once again be bold and proactive, but he beats me to it.

“I should get your number,” he says before I can ask to see him again, “It makes it easier for me to answer any questions about gigs and what not.”

“Yes, I might have some questions about figure drawinf.”

“Don’t tease,” he says, but with a knowing smile. Look at us. We’re bantering. “Give me your phone.”

He puts his number in my phone under ‘Snow ❄’.

I don’t have any experience with being friends with Simon Salisbury, even though we’ve known each other since we were eleven. This newfound camaraderie that we’ve got going on is very low stakes and nice. Simon started texting me and I obviously don’t complain. At first it was all about drawinf (I can’t believe I have an inside joke with Simon Salisbury!), but we gradually moved on to other topics. It’s weird. I’m not used to this, but I am very happy.

I don’t think there’s an ulterior motive this time. All cards have been put on the table. I’m not plotting and neither is he. This is exactly what I had hoped for.

(Well, no, I had hoped for more than friendship, but I am not delusional and I’ll take what I can get.)

We talk a lot through text and sometimes we meet up. I even get invited to his place for a little party that he’s throwing. He’s invited a bunch of people and his tiny flat is packed. Penelope and Shepard are there too and Penelope gives me a platonic version of the shovel talk, but she’s also happy with the development.

“I still don’t understand why he talks to you, but I’d rather have you be genuine friends than the alternative. This time, Simon’s not being super unhealthy by trying to prove himself.”

“But you still hate me?”

Penelope scoffs. “Of course I do.”

I don’t mind. Besides, I spend most of the evening talking to Shepard, who’s an amateur storm chaser. It distracts me from the fact that Simon’s hanging around Stephanie, the woman from the figure drawing club. He’s invited her and she’s been chatting him up all evening. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Stephanie laugh at something that Simon’s said and she puts her hand on his shoulder.

“So, tell me more about this tornado outside of Omaha,” I say to Shepard. Shepard happily obliges. I can see Simon and Stephanie leave together.

“Has anyone seen Simon?” Penelope cuts in after a while.

“No,” Shepard and I say. (It’s not a lie. I don’t know where he’s gone.)

Penelope frowns. She gets up to look for him and I know I should probably stop her, because I saw him leaving with Stephanie, but I selfishly hope that Penelope will interrupt whatever might be happening, so I keep quiet and I tell Shepard to continue his monologue about the best ways to spot a tornado.

After Shepard’s very long and detailed monologue (I’m not complaining, it was genuinely fascinating), I go to the bathroom. To my surprise, I hear Penelope and Simon talking. They’re out of the flat and in the hallway of Simon’s building, so I cannot see him, but Penelope has her usual agonised tone in her voice.

“- fucking kidding me, Simon?” she says.

Simon mutters something.

“I am really angry at you right now! Don’t play with people like that.”

“I didn’t mean- look, I was genuinely- ah fuck.”

“What is going on with you, Simon,” Penelope says. There’s still an edge to her voice, but now she also sounds a bit concerned. “You have been acting a bit off since… Oh.”

“Don’t. Penny, you don’t unders-”

“I’m going to kill him!” And back to the anger.

“He didn’t do anything!” Simon says back. I really need to stop listening. I think I am intruding on something very personal. “He has nothing to do with this. I’m the one who just rejected Steph after leading her on.”

I really, really need to leave, although I must admit that it brings me joy to hear that Simon’s rejected Stephanie.

“… I suppose. I don’t see how he could have had any say in that,” Penelope relents, “It’s just a bit suspicious to me that your behaviour has been so different ever since you started becoming friends with him.”

I turn on my heel and I go back to the living room. My bathroom break will have to wait. I’ve definitely heard too much and I don’t want them to find out.

And also, I think they’re talking about me. I need to save whatever dignity I have left by walking away. My curiosity cannot be the best of me. Although, if they are talking about me, I do agree with Simon. I have no say in whatever happened between him and Stephanie. I don’t know why Penelope found the need to drag me into this, but it’s probably her general suspicion of me.

I go back to talking to Shepard and after ten minutes or so, Penelope and Simon rejoin the party. They aren’t acting strange, so no one knows that they just had a small row in the hallway. Someone does ask where Stephanie’s gone and Simon answers that she had to leave, and that’s that. Our eyes meet when he tells everyone that Stephanie won’t be back.

Maybe I am part of whatever is going on, albeit unknowingly and involuntarily.

Do I ask about Stephanie? Isn’t that what friends do?

I’m walking around campus and all I think about is Simon and Stephanie.

It’s been a week since the party and Simon hasn’t brought it up in our text conversations yet. He knows that I’ve noticed something. Why else would he look at me like that during the party? He knows that I saw the two of them leave.

I’m dancing around the topic, because on one hand I desperately want to know what the fuck happened, but on the other, I have no idea what to expect and that stresses me out. I am finally in a position where Simon and I are becoming friends and I don’t want to break that by breaking some unspoken friendship rule.

Stephanie also didn’t bring it up during the weekly figure drawing club meeting, but Stephanie and I barely speak and Simon wasn’t the model, so we had no reason to talk about it.

I even considered asking Penelope for more information, but I also don’t want to die. Maybe Shepard knows more? He’s cool.

Yeah, maybe Shepard is a nice middle ground. I pull out my mobile when I suddenly hear someone say my name.

“Baz!” I hear again. I must be delusional, because I’m pretty certain that’s Simon. He’s stopped coming to my classes to see me ever since we exchanged numbers. He no longer has to. I look over my shoulder and yes, that is Simon practically running towards me.

“Salisbury?” I turn around and he stops in front of me. He looks red in the face. He’s always been fit (both attractive wise and health wise), but he looks out of breath. How long has he been running?

“Fucking-a!” he heaves out.

“Salisbury, what are you doing here?” I ask, concerned.

“Had to find you!”

“You could’ve just called,” I say and I hold up my mobile. Shepard be damned. Simon is right here.

“Had to see you!” he corrects himself. He hangs his head and rests his hands on his knees. He looks exhausted. Where did he start running? “Fuck, I am already fucking this up, I should’ve brought roses or something.”

Roses? What the fuck.

I touch his shoulder so that he looks at me.

“Why did you have to see me? Is something wrong?”

Simon’s mentioned bringing roses. Of course my mind wanders to the most obvious thing, but I cannot indulge in that wistful thinking. In fact, I should ready myself for the impending disappointment.

Simon shakes his head and he lets out a sigh. He closes his eyes and it looks like he’s bracing himself.

“Simon?”

He still has his eyes closed, but I still move us from the path, since we’re blocking it. He opens his eyes at the sudden movement. His eyes fall on my hand on his shoulder.

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” I say and I move my hand, but he stops me.

“I needed to see you,” Simon says. His hand is still on mine. “I needed to- fuck- I am- I have to- I want-”

He’s a flailing mess. He’s spluttering more than usual. He also doesn’t let go of my hand, even though I try to pull my hand back out of embarrassment.

“Simon…”

Then he does let go of my hand, but only so that he can grab my face. My heart is beating fast in my chest. I have no idea what is going on, but I am starting to get the gist of it.

This can’t be real.

“Fuck it,” Simon mutters.

And then he kisses me.

We kept kissing until we almost couldn’t breathe.

And until some other art students told us to get a room. We had strayed from the path, but we were still kissing on campus and we attracted a lot of attention. Some students whooped and whistled and we’ve heard a “Go get him!” and other words of encouragement.

Simon’s face looked flustered when he finally stopped kissing me and I opened my eyes. I am certain I looked similar to him.

And then he said: “We should… talk. About this.”

That’s why we’re now back at our spot outside of the canteen. I got us some tea and a muffin. For a second I wonder if I should be nervous, but Simon’s smile matches mine and the moment I sit down next to me, his hand is in mine again and he accepts the tea with a small kiss.

Am I dead? Is this heaven?

(I hope not. I like art school, but campus isn’t my idea of heaven.) (Fuck this, anywhere with Simon is my idea of heaven.)

Simon looks down to our linked hands.

“I… think I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Yup, heaven. This must be it. I had never thought Simon would say those words to me.

“Me too.”

“How long?” he asks.

“Since our fifth year at school,” I answer and Simon looks at me with wide, surprised eyes. I grimace. “Yes, Salisbury, that’s a long time.”

“Well, you never said!”

I laugh at that and luckily Simon joins in when he realises how absurd he sounds. There are multiple reasons why I never told Simon during our fifth year or after, and he knows.

Simon’s laughter dies out and a small frown forms on his face.

“I don’t really know how long I’ve wanted this,” he admits and he looks a bit embarrassed to say that. I rub my thumb over his. I have the feeling Simon’s trying to tell me more, so I give him time to find his words.

I’ve waited for years. I can wait a little bit longer.

He lets go of my hand to have a better hold on his cup, but he does lean his head on my shoulder, as if he wants to keep touching me no matter what.

“It just hit me out of nowhere. The realisation that I like you. That I want you,” he slowly says, “Well, actually, Shepard’s the one who figured it out and he told me because he realised that I hadn’t figured it out.”

We both laugh. Shepard Bunce is truly remarkable.

“I was at Penny and Shepard’s flat, talking about this photoshoot that I’m doing for an art book, and I mentioned that you draw me very well and Shepard just let out an exasperated sigh and he asked me when I was going to ask you out on a date. And it’s just as if everything fell into place.”

“It did? You realised you’ve liked me for a while?”

“Well, Penny is the one who figured that out,” Simon says with a grin and I let out another laugh. There’s a lot of laughter. It’s nice. “God, what would I do without my friends? Am I really that dense, Baz?”

Really, where would he be without Penelope Bunce?

Then again, maybe I am also dense. It sounds like Penelope and Shepard could see that Simon liked me from miles away. I had no idea.

Or maybe I did and I didn’t want to believe that it was anything else than my wishful thinking. Our talks. Our meetings. Our newfound friendship. After all, why would Simon Salisbury of all people do these things to date me?

Except that he apparently did do these things for that reasons.

“You’re not that dense, Simon,” I tell him.

Simon doesn’t reply to that.

“Stephanie… I messed that up,” Simon says and I tense for a second. He notices since he’s lying against me. “Yeah. She asked me out and I thought I could just go our with her, have a fun time, and forget that you were there. Because it didn’t make sense back then. Why were all my thoughts about you? At my party, she tried to kiss me and I said I couldn’t do it. Because of you. Penny, of course, also figured that out before I did. You reminded me that I’ve been obsessed with you since we were teens.”

“All your thoughts were about me?” I ask, almost giddily. Simon, thinking about me?

“I could not not think about you. Not thinking about you was like not breathing or whatnot. You’ve been constantly on my mind,” Simon tells me, “You’re all I can ever think about. I constantly want to know what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, what you’re up to… it’s driving me insane. And I thought it was some leftover from my suspicion, but it’s not. Maybe it’s never been about that.”

“But you never trusted me at school.”

Simon nods.

“That’s true. And I probably did think you were a twat, but somewhere that changed. I needed you to notice me.”

“I did the same.”

I think back of all the times that I made sure Simon saw me smile, even if it was at his expense. I remember how my eyes would always scan the room to make sure Simon was watching. I am reminded of all the extravagant shit I did just to make sure that he would pay attention.

“After all, I don’t see you for fucking years and when I do, the first thing I think of is ‘I have to keep an eye of Baz immediately’. At least you moved on!”

“I didn’t,” I blurt out. I never moved on. Our years apart did put my feelings on the backburner, but they also immediately came back the moment I saw him. I just decided not to act on it, as usual. “I never could.”

I put my cup of tea down. Tea be damned. I take his face in my hands and I kiss him again. I laugh against his mouth when I realise he also tried out the caramelised tea flavour. He also puts his cup down and his hands are on my shoulders. I kiss him. And again. And again. Because I can do that now. Simon wants me.

“I’ve always loved you,” I say and I press our foreheads together.

“You should’ve said earlier,” he says back with a grin, “I wish I’d known earlier.”

He puts one of his hands on mine.

“Better late than never,” I say.

He hums in agreement. His hand moves to my neck and he pushes me closer for another kiss.

We’re acting like a bunch of hormonal teenagers, but I don’t care. We’re high on energy and love. The moment we get to my flat and I close the door behind us, I press him against it and he laughs.

Again, there’s so much laughter.

Is this what love is like? Endless exuberant laughter? I revel in the sound of his joy.

He tries to kiss me, but I take his hand and I lead him to my room. I know it’s the first time he’s at my flat, but he can get a tour another time. I’ve been thinking about inviting him over, but I didn’t expect to take him to my room on the first visit. I also didn’t expect him to kiss me, but I can’t complain.

Simon’s always been the strongest out of the two of us, so it doesn’t surprise me when he throws me on the bed and he’s on top of me. I don’t know when he got rid of his hoodie, but I don’t care. He kisses me and I tangle my hand through his hair.

He reaches for my belt and I try to get rid of my blouse, which is very difficult when someone’s kissing you.

Suddenly, he rolls off of me. I blink a couple of times as my mind is trying to catch up with this sudden change. I turn my head to face him and I frown. Did I misinterpret this?

But Simon doesn’t seem upset. It’s quite the opposite.

Simon’s laughing uncontrollably. I lean on my elbow and I give him an incredulous look.

“What’s so funny, Salisbury?”

“I really think you should call me Simon when we’re about to-” and then he starts wheezing again. I still don’t know what’s so funny, but the utter joy on his face makes me laugh too. He drags his hands over his face and he keeps laughing.

“Alright, what’s so funny, Simon?”

“It’s just- I get to see you naked,” he says through his laughs, “I get to see you naked. And I was, like, ‘oh my God, he’s so gorgeous, will he like what he sees me?’ and then I realise you have seen me naked plenty of times! You have an entire database of me posing while naked.”

My smile widens. It is pretty funny. There’s no need for us to be awkward about it.

“Like, aside from my tits, you even made my dick look nice in my drawings. I know you’ve seen me.”

I laugh too. I have spent a lot of time looking at Simon. I have already memorised his body and we’ve only been together for maybe an hour.

“True, but I didn’t get to do this,” I say and touch his chest. You never touch the figure drawing models, that’s a rule. But Simon’s not here as a model now, he’s here as my boyfriend. (Possibly? Hopefully? I mean, we’re being extremely homosexual together right now.). “I told you I’d always take good care of your tits, Salisbury.”

“True,” Simon agrees and he puts his hands over my hand on his chest, “This is new. You can have me. All of me. So get on with it.”

Get on with it. Typical Simon. I’m about to touch every inch of his body and he says something like that.

“Come on, then!” Simon says to rile me up.

I lean down to kiss him to shut him up.

Simon’s lying on his stomach. I rub his shoulder blade. He has his eyes closed, but I know he’s awake.

He looks gorgeous. The sunlight from outside my window bounces of his skin. My sheets are draped over his legs.

I can’t help it. I reach for a pencil and a sketchpad that are on my desk. Simon opens one eyes when he notices the movement.

“No, stay still,” I say when it looks like he’s about to flip on his side. Simon obliges. “Perfect.”

I start to draw.

I’m standing in my living room, butt naked. Well, I have one sheet of fabric draped over my shoulders, but apart from that, I’m totally naked. There’s a light shining brightly and I squint my eyes when it shines in my eyes.

“Sorry!” Simon says as he readjusts the lightning, “I’m never on this side of the process.”

“I could say the same, Salisbury.”

“Snow, please,” Simon says with a mock professional tone in his voice, “When we’re drawinf, it’s Snow. You know that. Although this isn’t a job, so…”

“I have yet to hear that story, Simon,” I say. No Snow for today. Besides, he’s not the one modelling this time.

I really want to know why he chose that name as his modelling name. I want to know everything about him in the years we spent apart. We’ve already filled in a lot of the gaps, but there’s more and the fact that I can ask him and he will tell me makes me feel giddy all over.

Simon finally put the lamp in a right angle and he takes a seat on my sofa. I told him that drawing on a sofa might do his back in, but he keeps insisting that this is the best view.

He flips open one of my many sketchpads and he puts a pencil on the paper. That’s my cue to pose. I twist my upper body slightly and I raise one hand above my head. The other one touches my upper leg. I have never modelled before, but after watching a lot of naked people do this, I can come up with a somewhat decent pose. Simon’s the expert and he doesn’t correct me.

“Okay, I didn’t think this through,” Simon says as he stares at the sketchpad, “How do you even start?”

“Just draw what you see.”

“Right,” his eyes are on me.

“Uhm, Simon, how long do I have to pose?” I ask. I can already feel some discomfort. My body is not used to twisting like this. Guess I didn’t think this through either.

“5 minutes at least,” Simon says and he stares at me. His eyes go up and down and I try not to blush. I’m already flailing in front of my boyfriend of a week, and he’s seen me naked before in these past few days. How does Simon do this in front of strangers?

Simon’s also barely holding it together. His mouth is slightly agape and he keeps looking at me with wide, amazed eyes.

“Well, then get drawing!” I say.

“Oh, right!” Simon says and he also turns a bit red.

It’s completely silent except for the sound of Simon’s pencil scratching the paper. I try to be as professional as possible, since I know that there’s nothing inherently sexual about figure drawing, but that’s of course in a different context. Now it’s my boyfriend drawing me, looking at me intensely.

“Simon… how much longer?” I ask after a while. I’m certain that those five minutes have passed.

Simon quickly checks his phone. “Two more minutes, babe.”

Two more? It already feels like hours have passed. I really am not used to this.

Simon chuckles when he sees the slightly miffed look on my face. He’s clearly enjoying this.

“I’ll reward you with kisses,” he says as he continues drawing.

When Simon’s alarm on his mobile finally goes off, I let out a sigh of relief and I let my entire body relax. I roll my shoulders and my neck in order to let it loose. And to think that Simon sometimes poses for one hour straight.

I sit down next to Simon to see his work. When my eyes fall on the sketchpad, I do a double take. I know I am also not the most experienced drawing, but Simon’s drawing of me is nothing more than a few gestural lines and a smiley face. At least he got my hair somewhat right. Did he really spent all this time on that?

“This is why I’m the artist, and you’re the model,” I say with a grin.

“Look, I got a bit distracted…” Simon says, but he also doesn’t sound sorry. In fact, he has a matching grin on his face.

I kiss his temple.

“It’s lovely. This will do.”

Simon adds his initials and the date and I then take the sketchpad from Simon. I carefully rip out the sheet of paper with his drawing. The two of us walk to my dining table. Two frames are lying on it. One of them hold the sheet of paper with my first drawings of Simon, the ones I made when he first arrived at my class. The other one is still empty, but it’s reserved for this one.

I put it in the frame. I cannot hang these in my lounge, because I don’t think visitors will appreciate our naked bodies on the wall, but I don’t mind. They’ll look good in my room. They’re only for me and Simon to see.

“Your first drawing of me,” I say.

“You make it sound like this will be a regular occurrence,” Simon says.

I shake my head. “Oh fuck no, I’ll leave the modelling to you.”

“And I’ll leave the artistic shit to you,” he agrees. He wraps his arms around my waist and he presses a kiss on the back of my neck. “But it’s still nice to have them next to each other.”

I hum in agreement. I put the two frames upright on the table so that we can have a better look (I’ll put them on the wall tomorrow) and we look at my drawings of Simon. They’re a bit messy and I missed the very first pose, because I was so up in arms about the fact that Simon fucking Salisbury was in front of me and now, a couple of weeks later, I’m in his arms and I’ve drawn him a countless amount of times.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too.”

“Now, get undressed so that I can draw you. The best part of dating an model is that I have access to so many more poses.”

“Oh so that’s what it is all about, huh!” Simon jokes as he takes off his shirt. To this day I still cannot believe that I get to see him like this.

I hum.

“Well, it’s an added bonus,” I say. We move back to the lounge and I take the sketchpad that Simon’s left on the sofa. Simon then lies down on that sofa, naked and ready to be drawn.

“Draw me like one of your French boys, Baz!”

I snort. Who needs French boys when I have Simon? I put my pencil on the paper, I look over to Simon who’s already flexing his upper body, and I start to draw.

#simon snow series #carry on #snowbaz #holy fuck I wrote #2022 #oneshot

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maeviana · 4 years

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ok ok ok but Jess Mariano grew up in a world where he was expected to take care of himself mostly by himself and where relying on someone else (i.e his mother or his mother’s boyfriends) would ultimately lead to very bad results or would set him up for disappointed. Liz was consistently moving so I think it’s likely that Jess was constantly changing neighborhoods and thus changing schools meaning he doesn’t have any real childhood friends or probably even go to school consistently and there were definitely periods where he would have been “between schools” and is used to just keeping himself company and relying totally on himself for entertainment and money - he was essentially his own parent.

Then he moves from one of the most anonymous cities in the entire world to a town where everyone knows each other and has known each other since they were five and not only that but he moves into the house of a relatively public figure in the town - one whose personal decisions have multiple times been the subject of town meetings (e.g his decision to take Jess in, his decision to let the building next door to Taylor, his decision to date Lorelai) and he goes from having absolutely no supervision to being watched constantly.

He is also expected to respect the authority figures in this town which is understandable but his mother, his stepfathers and his own father did nothing but betray his trust, leave or cause him to lose respect for them but he is expected to just blindly trust this Uncle whom he has never met and some random lady whose house he brought him to. Also the “cool mom” act Lorelai gives him - how many of Liz’s boyfriends do you think tried the “cool-guy-let’s-have-a-beer” thing with him to try to relate to him when they were sleeping with Liz and trying to impress her - god no wonder he lashes out.

He goes to a school where once again everyone has known each other since they were five and he doesn’t like sports or have any wish to join a sports team which is a way to make new friends when you move to a new town (look at Dean) he is in a situation also where most people his age don’t want new friends and are not expected to make them look at Lane who rejects people trying to befriend her at Stars Hollow High, there was an entire story line about it being “unfair” that Principal Charleston wanted Rory to make new friends at her school but Jess is expected to do this anyway.

Jess also up until this point was in charge of his own education. I can’t imagine Liz being too much of a disciplinarian about school attendance. He has read extensively and as Rory says “is probably smarter than most people at the school” and I would imagine this includes the teachers. It’s really hard to listen to someone talk about a subject you know more about, that doesn’t interest you or listen to someone talk about something you know is wrong. What if when you are learning about the American revolution and you’re teacher talks on and on about how amazing George Washington is and you know he was a slave owner and sanctioned the slaughter of Native Americans or what if you don’t agree that Columbus “discovered” America because you know there were already people living there. How hard would it be to respect an English teacher when you’ve read more books than them and have a greater understanding of literature and poetry.

Furthermore, aside from Rory in ‘Teach me Tonight’ no one actually asks Jess why he has no interest in going to school he is just told he “has” to go. When Rory does ask him why he doesn’t want to go to school, why he doesn’t study he actually comes back with a very valid answer - he doesn’t think there is a point in him getting a High School Diploma. There is two really fascinating elements of this first of all he doesn’t think that he is going to be able to “make something” of himself because people have always said he won’t (including his mother) but also no adult he knows is using their High School Diploma not Liz not Luke not even Lorelai, Suki or Jackson furthermore Jess can’t afford to go to college or to continue his education and any job he can imagine himself getting at that moment in time wouldn’t require a High School Diploma. He’s almost 18, he’s been taking care of himself by himself for most of his life and no one is actually consulting him on his life decisions they are just telling him that they are wrong.

Also side note I have never seen a faculty of teachers get so mad at someone for just not participating - the one time we actually see Jess in class he’s just quietly reading in the back - I know the teacher said that he was sometimes hostile to teachers but I would bet those are the teachers who are trying to get him to participate when he literally just wants to be left alone and again nobody asks him why.

#jess mariano #Gilmore Girls #I can't believe i'm still finding layers to this character #he is the best character the show ever wrote I'm sorry but he is #literati #jess x rory #team jess #luke danes #Stars Hollow

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Company Upgrade Dates (Eng Translation)

🍒This post contains detailed spoilers for dates unreleased in English servers!🍒

I accidentally skipped the first set of Season 2 dates, the “Company Upgrade” Collection, thinking they were just Rumours & Secrets:

These dates are important as a starting point for future S2 dates! They are mostly in bullet-point form, but all plot points and important dialogue are covered ❤️

⚡️ Shaw’s Way Home Date (归路之约) ⚡️

MC arrives at Loveland City airport after a business trip and receives a text from Shaw stating that he’d be picking her up

(even though she didn’t give him any details of her flight)

He appears, in all his glory, on a skateboard

Shaw picks up her luggage and also shows genuine concern for her work and how tired she looks

MC: I can carry it myself.

As soon as I stretch out my hand, Shaw spins the luggage around in a circle so I can’t reach it.

Shaw: If you carry it yourself, I wouldn’t have any purpose for coming here.

DELICIOUS BANTER

MC: Oh right, why did you think of picking me up?

Shaw: It was along on the way. Or I did it on a whim. Whatever reason you like.

MC: ...

Even after a week of not seeing him, this brat’s words are still as annoying.

MORE DELICIOUS BANTER

MC: Don’t you have class in the afternoon today?

Shaw: There’s class, but I skipped it.

MC: It’s not good to skip classes.

Shaw: It isn’t good, so I informed the teacher beforehand.

MC: Eh? What did you say?

Shaw: I said that I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in a month, so I want to pick her up.

MC: What...!?

Hearing this, my heartbeat goes into a frenzy.

Shaw: You really believed me?

Shaw asks MC to cook him dinner as thanks for travelling the great distance to pick her up

They return home by subway, but it’s incredibly packed

Shaw pulls her to a corner

My back leans against the wall of the train carriage. Standing in front of me, Shaw places a hand on the wall beside me, separate me from the crowd.

MC: What are you doing?

Shaw: Can’t you see?

He lifts his other hand and places it onto the wall of the train carriage, encircling me with this pose, which is reminiscent of a hug. He creates an empty corner in the crowded train.

She falls asleep, and he holds onto her shoulders so she doesn’t sway

Shaw: Hey. We’re going to miss the stop. If you don’t wake up soon, I’ll have to carry you back.

MC: !!

After they leave the train:

MC: I didn’t think I’d actually fall asleep.

I turn and sneak a glance at Shaw’s side profile. He senses my gaze and meets my eyes.

Shaw: Not only that. You even drooled.

MC: N-no way...

I hurriedly look at his shoulders, but can’t see any traces of dampness. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

MC: Is it very fun to lie to me?

Shaw: It’s your fault for having such interesting reactions.

At home, Shaw wolfs down her cooking. It turns out he was busy and didn’t have lunch T^T

He even helps tidy and wash the dishes for her

Afterwards, she finds him in the balcony and asks what he has been busy with

Shaw brushes them off as “unimportant things”

MC suddenly says she wants to hear him play the bass

Shaw re-enters the house and brings out an erhu instead (since MC doesn’t have a bass)

Shaw makes the erhu play her name and a “you are stupid”

MC: Why are you scolding me?

I suddenly feel a little gloomy, but he continues playing a few notes. Even though my mind hasn’t figured it out yet, my heart beat speeds up.

Shaw: Do you understand?

Shaw puts down the musical instrument and crosses the handrail over to me.

The dim light from behind the curtains is reflected in his eyes, as though filled with unwavering momentum.

Shaw: You have a really slow reaction.

Accompanying his ridicule, what enters my ears is the rumble of thunder from the clear sky.

Shaw straightens up, and his corners of his mouth hook upwards.

Shaw: It’s going to rain.

Shaw’s Call: here

🌻 Kiro’s Show Date (戏中之约) 🌻

This date basically shows how MC and Kiro share a very light-hearted relationship, where he likes teasing her

MC is at the scene of Kiro’s filming location, and comments on how realistic the effects are

Kiro is filming a gunfight, and the atmosphere is very tense

The famous Kiro Pointing A Gun At Himself™ scene occurs as part of the filming

Kiro: Since we can only pick between one of us, take my life, and you’ll be safe. It’s nothing worth being surprised over. There’s only one person who I’m willing to exchange my life for. So, tell me your answer.

There is mockery and paranoia in his eyes, but not a trace of fear.

It’s as though he already knows the other party’s choice... even if his bet is wrong, he will continue enjoying this game.

Even if death is what awaits him at the end.

Director: OK, cut!

Kiro’s seamless performance garners applause from the audience

After that, Kiro and MC head to an open air restaurant

Kiro what choice MC would make if she were the protagonist of the show and one of them has to die

MC: I’ll change the script, so the both of us can live.

Kiro keeps teasing her e.g. eating her half-eaten biscuit

She suddenly hears a loud sound, and she grabs Kiro’s hand

There are a series of explosions below as part of the special effects from the filming site

Kiro: Even though almost everything you saw today was artificial, you can remember the me of right now. The me in front of you is the real me.

I turn back to Kiro, who looks at me at the same time. His fingers are on the back of my hand. The temperature and touch are extremely real.

And the memories belonging to us will always remain in this real moment.

Kiro’s Call: here

🌹 Victor’s Secret Date (隐秘之约) 🌹

MC wakes up and finds herself in an unknown underground facility. From the unknown voices in the beginning, it’s clear she wasn’t the target of the kidnap

Victor is with her too, and they briefly go through what happened beforehand: MC and Victor were on their way to the carpark at around 7pm after going through a report

The doors aren’t locked, and they aren’t tied up

Victor: I’ll give you five minutes to adjust your state of mind.

His sentence, which came out of nowhere, startles me slightly.

Looking at his expressionless face, I suddenly realise something and laugh.

Victor: What are you laughing at?

MC: Are you... concerned about me?

Victor: ...instead of asking unrelated questions, spend your time on something useful. You still have 4 minutes and 8 seconds.

Victor gets her to check the area right outside the door. When she returns, Victor tells her to stay close to him, and grabs on to her

He reveals that he can no longer see

Despite his temporary blindness, he’s very calm

He speculates that the reason why they’re here is to keep Victor away from an auction taking place the day after they got kidnapped (which is the present moment)

Victor hands her his cuffs, which are actually electronic transceivers

MC: Boss, actually... you can give me a direct order to bring you out of here. This place looks like an abandoned experiment site, so...

I leave the remaining speculations in my heart. The people who threw us here... did they do it just to prevent Victor from participating in the auction?

We’re surrounded by darkness. I hold the electronic transceiver to find the exit.

Victor follows behind me, sometimes pointing out the correct direction.

MC: Victor, are you sure you really can’t see? Is this just a test for me...

Victor: ...you’re the one who is testing me. Do you want to get hit and become even more stupid?

He gently pulls me to his side, preventing me from turning around and hitting the wall in front.

Victor: After walking for such a long time, you still don’t know the approximate distance?

MC: Right now, I think you might be able to make it in time for the auction.

Victor: Being optimistic is good, but...

Suddenly, they hear someone walking around and shouting extremely loudly

Victor uses his palms to cover MC’s ears <3

MC musters her courage, stops herself from trembling, and finds a place for them to hide

Right now, there’s no time to figure out who this person is. No matter what, I can’t let Victor get hurt here.

I promised him once before.

The sound of the footsteps eventually disappear

MC: You weren’t worried that I’d accidentally bring us to that insane person?

Pulling Victor into a dark corner, I do my best to adjust my breathing, and force my voice not to tremble.

Victor: Since I said that I’d trust you, I wouldn’t doubt you.

Victor guesses that the people who brought them here aren’t out for their lives, or they wouldn’t be allowed to roam freely

MC then wonders why they had to blind Victor, and points out that the man just now seemed deranged. She guesses that it’s a result of simply being in the underground facility. Someone wanted him to know about the existence of the facility, but not give further details

MC: I have a question, but I’m not sure if I should bring it up.

Victor: There will be Arab merchants bringing new reagents to the auction. They contain certain special elements.

MC: I haven’t even asked.

Victor: Was my answer wrong?

I smile secretly, lowering my eyes to look at our overlapping hands.

MC: You answered wrongly. I wanted to say that even the dignified CEO of LFG can get kidnapped in such a confusing manner, and even get his eyes hurt.

Victor: If you want to obtain a precious prey, you need to prepare a cherished bait.

MC: Could it be...

Victor: That auction is also a bait.

At 7pm, there’s a signal from the electronic transceiver, and they leave the underground facility

Security reaches the scene, and Goldman comes rushing over

Victor sends a few men to the facility to investigate

Victor asks MC to follow him, and it’s clear that he doesn’t want anyone to know of his temporary blindness

MC watches as Victor successfully clips on his seatbelt:

Victor: I’m able to feel it.

MC: ...I wasn’t looking at you!

MC wonders where they’re heading to since they’re late for the auction. Victor tells her that they’re going to a winery

When she looks at the rearview mirror, she sees that the place they were at has caught on fire

MC: Did you already sense that something was amiss with the auction?

Victor: Mm. That Arab merchant is just a guise. Behind him is a private arms organisation. They used the Arab merchant just to gauge the interest level for their reagent.

MC: Didn’t you say it was an auction you needed to attend?

Victor: They just wanted to ensure good faith.

MC: And there’s no need now?

Victor: Now, there is a different way to show my sincerity.

Once they reach the winery, Victor hands MC a gun

Victor: Can I continue trusting you?

MC: You have no other choice.

In the winery, the merchant tries to push the reagent to Victor

Merchant: Does CEO Victor have doubts regarding the efficacy of the medicine? It has already gone through tests, and it can...

Victor: I need to doubt medicine that causes mental breakdowns when injected?

Merchant: ...

Victor: I’m not interested in your medicine. The thing I want is your newly mined ore field. All of it. I don’t need technical staff.

Merchant: CEO Victor’s transaction seems to be overly greedy.

Victor: I’ve said it before - I’m uninterested in your defective products. Apart from LFG, no other company can meet your capital needs.

Merchant: Aren’t you being too confident? The world is pretty big. Maybe the STF can give us similar support.

Victor: In that case, you better ensure your safety and leave Loveland City before obtaining their support. One thing LFG doesn’t lack is business partners. Meeting you personally is enough to express my sincerity.

The transaction is completed

They head to LFG, and Victor tells her to drive back

BRACE YOURSELF FOR A CUTE SCENE:

MC: Victor, I’ll send you upstairs.

Victor: No need.

MC: Your eyes...

Victor: I’ll handle it, don’t worry. You did very well today. I owe you a favour.

Victor doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He opens the car door and heads towards the main entrance of LFG.

I release a secret sigh and hastily leave the car to walk to his side.

MC: That’s the side entrance. The side entrance of LFG doesn’t open at night.

Victor: ...do you know LFG better than I do?

Switching his direction, he walks confidently towards the railing near the main entrance.

I hurriedly grab onto his sleeve in order to make this brave man stop.

The night has softened his cold edges. His shoulders are straight. Ever since what happened with his eyes, he hasn’t uttered a single word of frustration.

Perhaps he’d never say such words.

Sensing my quietness, Victor lets out a soft sigh. He turns his head slightly, then closes his eyes in resignation.

Victor: Since you want to be responsible, take responsibility till the end. Before my day lights up, don’t think of leaving.

Victor’s Call: here

🦋 Lucien’s Bondage Date (束缚之约) 🦋

MC receives a call from the newest member of Black Swan. He proudly proclaims that he has caught a “big fish” who has agreed to provide important information only if MC personally goes to the interrogation room

She receives a photo of the “big fish” - it’s Lucien.

And she knows something is amiss because Lucien isn’t someone who would get caught so easily

When she reaches the interrogation room, Lucien is tied up and injured

Even so...

His smile and posture are not those of a caged prisoner. Instead, it’s as though he’s waiting in the dark for his prey to enter a trap...

A successful hunter.

Lucien: What’s wrong? You’re not happy to see me like this? Just now, someone mentioned that... I’m a surprise prepared for you.

I clench my teeth hard, and exert more strength as I grip the iron cage.

MC: ...are you okay?

Lucien: Are you showing concern for me?

MC: I just want to know what exactly you’re planning.

Lucien: I don’t quite understand Miss MC’s meaning. Shouldn’t you tell me what you’re planing to do with me, since you were the one who made me like this?

MC: You...

MC clarifies that she didn’t know Lucien would be brought here

Lucien keeps toying with her so she snaps

MC: Professor Lucien, I think you can clearly see the situation before you. Right now, you are a “guest” invited by Black Swan. If you want to get out, you have to prove your worth. If you don’t give us something of equivalent value, we won’t let you leave.

Lucien: Equivalent value... you make sense. In that case, what do you want then? Perhaps with more specific questions, I can give you more satisfactory answers.

MC: ...I’m not a student who’s asking you questions!

Lucien: My student would never be so fierce towards me. I’m already like this, and you still don’t believe my sincerity? I’ve thought of a piece of secret information you may be interested in. This matter involves Black Swan and core members of the STF, and it’s a secret I’ve been keeping.

MC: Lucien, are you being serious?

Lucien: It would be revealed sooner of later. Knowing it earlier could be of some help to you. If you want to know, come closer to me.

I freeze involuntarily, casting a glance at the single-sided glass separating us from the surveillance room.

Lucien: As a representative of Black Swan, shouldn’t you show me some good faith if you want the information?

She goes closer to him, but he keeps toying with her e.g. telling her that he’s cold so she should come closer to warm him up. Finally, he speaks.

Lucien: Actually, I have an arrangement with someone in Black Swan.

MC: What you mean by “arrangement”? An agent you planted?

Lucien: If you put it that way, I can't deny it. A person I planned on bringing along with me when I left this place. It’s just that back then, the timing wasn’t ripe yet.

MC: After you left, did you remain in contact with the person who kept you informed about the organisation’s internal affairs?

Lucien: Yes.

MC: ...who is it?

I stare at Lucien, my heart beating rapidly. I can’t tell if my emotions can be called anger or something else.

Lucien’s eyes continue to sparkle. He arches the corners of his mouth, as though in a good mood.

That layer of suppressed anger dissipates, and I suddenly realise something.

MC: ...Lucien, don’t speak nonsense.

Lucien: I never lie. You should know that clearly.

MC: You...

Lucien: That person is a female.

MC knows that every word and action is being watched by the people in the surveillance room

Lucien: We’ve known each other for a long time. After leaving the organisation... she has been the one taking the initiative to look for me most of the time.

MC: Nonsense! You’re just-

Lucien: Of course, I miss her a lot. Perhaps there is a tacit understanding between us. Whenever I miss her, she will appear.

MC: But the relationship between the two of you is simply sharing the benefits of exchanging information, am I right?

Lucien: ...is that so? It sounds like there isn’t a relationship at all. Did you know? Sometimes, feelings are part of a beneficial exchange. Many people simply don’t realise it, and lose out in the process. With this thought in mind, perhaps those people are the ultimate winners.

At this point, the STF barges in. Lucien frees himself from the ropes.

Lucien: I wasn’t speaking nonsense. I do have someone I want to take with me.

I feel a tightening on my wrists and I exclaim in surprise. Both my hands have been gently bound in front of me, bringing with it a silky touch.

Lucien: Now, can I take you away?

MC: ...that’s not possible.

I look him in the eyes. In the darkness, the rotating red lights occasionally flash across his face, looking blurry and dangerous.

MC: I’ve said it before. It’s all right if you choose to walk down another path, because I’ll walk the remaining half of this path on your behalf. I’ll prove to you that the decision we made at the beginning was not wrong.

Lucien ...I got it.

At this moment, I seem to understand the true loneliness in this man’s eyes than ever before. At the same time, I feel as though I’m the person he has lied to the most in the world.

Lucien: In that case, sleep for a while...

Realising what he’s about to do, I try to escape.

Lucien’s palm has already covered my eyes, the warmth reminiscent of a cloud which has been under the sun for a long time.

MC: Lucien... you're lying to me again.

Lucien: What?

MC: You...

His voice trembles in my ear. In my hazy state, I don’t know if I said the words in my heart.

He lied so that I would enter this cold iron cell and warm him up.

But his hands are burning hot, as though the temperature had been stored for a long time, reserving it for the lady who has gotten frozen in order to find him.

MC: Lucien, you don’t... feel cold at all, right?

When MC awakes, she’s at home. She feels an itch on her wrist and sees rope marks

She receives a notification on her phone telling her that the underground interrogation room has been sealed by the STF, but there aren’t any traces left of what happened yesterday

The interrogation materials have also been wiped

The doorbell rings, and it’s Lucien

MC: Are you Mr Advisor, or Professor Lucien?

Lucien: Right now, I’m just a neighbour who is inviting you for dinner. Will you do me the honour?

MC: Mm... I happen to be a little hungry.

Lucien smiles. When he takes my hand, his eyes fall on the ribbon tied to my wrist.

Lucien: Is this... a new ornament?

...oh no, I forgot to take it off last night.

Looking at his expression, which clearly shows that he knows what’s going on, I nod and pretend nothing happened.

MC: Even I don’t know where it came from. Come to think of it, could it have been you?

I ask Lucien, lifting my head while changing my shoes at the entrance.

He smiles, his warm fingertips gliding across my wrist. He chuckles lightly while unravelling the delicate knot.

Lucien: Next time, I’ll tie it a little more tightly.

Lucien’s Call: here

💔 Gavin’s Stray Date (迷途之约) 💔

MC is in a hut on a cliff by the sea looking for someone

She spots a familiar figure 👀

She tries to sneak away because she doesn’t want trouble, but the wind lifts her off the ground and brings her over to Gavin

Gavin: Care to explain?

Gavin lifts his head and arches his brows slightly. Both hands are crossed in front of his chest as he watches me hover in the air.

MC: I... was just preparing for a future photoshoot.

While he tries to catch her in a lie, he uses his Evol to gradually make her hover above the ocean...

MC: You... this is against the rules!

Gavin: I’ve always used my own methods to resolve issues.

MC tries to suppress her trembling, and reaches out to maintain her balance. She then realises that the air currents around her are controlled very well to ensure she doesn’t fall - Gavin is just trying to scare her

She calms down and relaxes her posture, even smiling at him

Gavin: [sighs] You’re not afraid?

He closes his eyes and sighs softly, bringing me closer to the cliff. He still doesn’t put me down.

MC: I said it before - I’m not afraid of you. So, you can’t scare me.

Gavin: What relation do you have with that person?

MC: Does STF’s mission have something to do with that person?

Gavin: This has nothing to do with you.

MC: In that case, my answer also has nothing to do with you.

His fingertips tremble and he looks straight at me. I sit on the air current and clench my fists, staring back at him.

MC: Gavin, I also have things I want to use my own methods to resolve. He has taken something he shouldn’t have. I’m not sure about the rest of it, and I don’t want to know.

The strength of the air current gradually becomes weaker. I try to maintain my balance, but Gavin suddenly holds me gently.

With one hand, he grabs my wrist. With the other, he brushes my back so I can stand on the ground steadily.

He must have stood here for a long time - he smells of the ocean breeze.

Gavin takes half a step back. This wordless hug was so brief that it almost feels like a hallucination.

Gavin: He has always been on the STF’s wanted list. For three years.

A few days later, MC uses intelligence from the STF to look for the man

Under the cover of the sprinkler system of the hotel, she looks for the USB drive in the man’s room

Gavin suddenly breaks the window and enters the room

The first thing he does is to scan the room for a fire... and only after he sees there isn’t any, he rushes to MC (does this mean he still has a phobia of fire?? 😭)

Just when you think this isn’t painful enough:

After pressing the off button, he casually wipes off the water droplets from his forehead and fringe. When his hair curls up in the air, it actually looks pretty cute.

That strawberry hairband and resigned expression suddenly flash before my eyes.

A curtain of water clouds my vision. I blink repeatedly, forcing myself to focus on the present.

[Note: It’s a reference to Gavin’s Prank Date]

While they talk, they discover that it was neither STF nor MC who set off the fire alarm. The man had escaped with the help of somebody else

Gavin puts a jacket over MC and carries her out of the window

MC asks if they can work together, but Gavin says:

Gavin: That’s not the way I work. The thing you’re looking for is unrelated to Black Swan, so I won’t look into it. But this doesn’t mean it’d be the same next time.

When he reaches the ground, he holds me in his arms and walks to the ambulance, blocking me from the sight of onlookers.

Gavin: She suffered some injuries just now. Bring her to the hospital.

After speaking, he lifts the jacket that’s covering my face, and leans close to my ear.

Gavin: Don’t involve yourself in this matter again.

Later, MC leaves the hospital, hugging Gavin’s jacket. She’s at the port.

A few minutes ago, she received a call telling her that the man plans to leave Loveland City through the port that night

It’s also revealed that the man betrayed Black Swan

Suddenly thinking of something, she calls Gavin, who already knows of the man’s plans to leave Loveland City

MC voices her suspicions that the person helping the man isn’t simply helping him escape out of kindness. From her investigations, the man hasn’t kept in contact with anyone after leaving Black Swan three years ago

Gavin says he’d head to the port, but MC says there isn’t enough time

Gavin: I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to worry about these things. All you have to do is keep yourself safe, and leave the rest of it to me.

MC persuades him to direct her so she can find him quickly, since STF would need some time to arrive

MC: Gavin, you have to trust me. Trust me, all right?

Gavin: You have to promise.

MC: I promise nothing will happen to me, and that I have my ways of protecting myself. And I also trust that you’d give me the correct judgments.

I’m no longer that person who only knows how to let you stand in front of me. This time, I’ll stand beside you, and will not back down.

MC: Gavin, I’m at the unloading zone.

The lights from the cold machine are reflected in his eyes. Beneath his palm is the entire port.

He forces himself to lean against the chair instead of immediately rushing to the girl’s side.

Gavin: In 50 metres, there are two people at two o'clock. The target is moving towards Area C. There’s no rush. Your speed is faster than him.

MC: That’s a shuttle bus I “borrowed”.

Hearing the girl’s slightly satisfied tone, he can’t help but let out a secret smile.

Gavin: [softly laughs] Turn right.

MC: Did you just laugh...

Gavin: No.

MC: Don’t think you can lie just because I can’t see you.

Gavin: ...

MC: I guessed correctly, right? If it’s you, you’d definitely say something along the lines of “I won’t lie to you”.

Gavin: Didn’t you lie to me in front of the hut?

MC: ...

Gavin: Turn left in front. He’s stopped.

MC: I don’t have a choice sometimes...

The girl sounds as though she’s been wronged. Her voice goes round and round, worming into the tip of his heart, and gently prodding it twice.

Gavin: I...

MC: Gavin! I think I see him!

I hide behind a container secretly, watching as the man looks around furtively, as though waiting for someone.

A red dot appears on his back, and trails upwards.

MC: !!!

I rush forward quickly, throwing two black objects in the direction where the red light came from.

In the dense smoke screen, the man sees that things are amiss, and whips out a detonator from the pocket of his coat.

A massive explosion sounds. I grip the man’s collar tightly, but am held in a warm embrace the very next second.

MC: Gavin?!

Gavin: Did you really think I’d let you come here alone?

Gavin: So this is your way of protecting yours-

Comical ribbons fall lightly on the top of Gavin’s head, hanging in front of his left eye.

His bright amber eyes blink. Gavin turns his head to look at the sky full of coloured ribbons.

A gigantic inflatable man holds a banner with the word “surprise”, and it sways in the wind.

The man freezes in place while holding onto the detonator, looking as though he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

MC: I knew early on that there’d be something “special” here. How is it? I said I had my ways. Unexpected, right?

Gavin lifts his hand, gently removing the ribbon next to my ear. He fails to suppress a smile.

Gavin: Unexpected. But we’ll talk about this later.

He stands up, looking coldly at the man cowering in the corner.

Gavin: MC, turn around.

MC: Okay...

I listen to Gavin and turn around obediently. The moon hides behind the clouds, as though carrying a sense of pity.

Soon after, Gavin receives news that the sniper has been brought under control.

After explaining how the sniper was caught, Gavin places something on the top of her head - it’s the USB she’s been searching for

MC: Even though I really didn't do anything bad, you’re just giving it to me directly? You don’t need to check it?

Gavin: I’m taking it away if you keep asking.

MC: I won’t ask, I won’t ask.

However, MC has another question - how did Gavin appear at the scene when he should have been in STF’s command room?

Gavin doesn’t give her a straightforward answer

Gavin: I was at the control system, but I could also come here. That’s it.

[And then Papergames cuts me deep by playing Gavin’s S1 bgm out of nowhere...]

At this moment, sirens blare in the distance. The special reinforcements have arrived.

I dig into my bag and realise my car keys are missing.

A bunch of bright keys slide in the air and fall into my palm.

MC: I even thought you’d detain me for an investigation.

Gavin: Aren’t you...

He pauses, and he retracts the words on his lips. After a long time, he speaks slowly.

Gavin: You didn’t do anything bad, right?

Gavin turns his head to the side. The crescent moon hides his eyes in the night.

Gavin: Didn't you ask me to trust you?

His voice is very light. It’s so light that once the words leave his lips, they are immediately swallowed up by the night wind.

MC: What?

Gavin: You’re still not leaving? Do you really want me to detain you?

I purse my lips at him, then grip the car keys as I run in the direction of the car park Gavin told me about. I suddenly think of something, and turn around.

MC: Isn’t it very convenient to work with me? If you keep rejecting me, you’ll lose out. I suggest you consider it properly next time.

Gavin: All right, I’ll consider it. The next time you face danger, you don’t need to rush into it alone. It’s quite silly.

MC: You...

Gavin: You can call my name.

Do you know why this hurts so much? Because he’s unintentionally referencing his very first date - the Relieving Date:

Gavin’s call: here

🌸 MOMENTS 🌸

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: I even feel like I'm staging it.

Gavin: Having your car break down doesn’t count.

[Note: I translated “staging it” from “碰瓷”, which refers to how some drivers manoeuvre unsuspecting motorists into crashes in order to make false insurance claims.]

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: I didn’t think my car would break down outside the STF entrance, causing trouble for you again.

Gavin: It’s okay, it’s no effort at all.

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: My engine might have its own ideas... but thank you for your wind in helping me move the car.

Gavin: Ahem, it’s just safer that way.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #dates are arranged according to how much they hurt my soul in ascending order T^T

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letapollojusticesayfuck · 4 years

Text

fuck it, Klapollo Camp Rock AU (where I change like half the plot to make it fit the characters better lmao)

Apollo and Trucy are Phoenix’s adopted kids; Phoenix has a catering business and gets hired last-minute to cater the food at Camp Rock

Trucy’s 12 and has been dying to go to the camp since she read about it on the Gavinners fan forums--they’re her favorite band and that’s where they got their start. She’s hoping to eventually start a magic-themed band where she integrates magic tricks into their stage performances

Apollo’s 19 and really does not want to spend his summer at some music camp--he’s not a fan of being onstage or performing at all, though he knows guitar and has a notebook full of songs he’s written over the years. He’s not sure they’re any good, but they’re personal and they’re his.

(He’d also been planning on spending his summer going on an epic road trip with his best friend Clay, before Clay found out he got into an intern program at GYAXA and they had to abandon that idea--leaving Apollo at loose ends for the summer)

Phoenix insists that both Trucy and Apollo come to the camp with him and help out--Trucy gets to participate in camp activities, and Apollo’s supposed to be a counselor who can sit in on some classes if he wants. Trucy’s thrilled; Apollo less so.

Meanwhile, there’s been some drama within the Gavinners--amidst rumors of unruly behavior and accounts of an uncooperative, pop-diva attitude, Klavier Gavin is unwillingly pushed into spending his summer taking some time off from the band and acting as a guest teacher at Camp Rock, under the supervision of his former mentor and owner of the camp, Miles Edgeworth

Shortly after arriving at camp, it becomes very obvious that Phoenix and Miles already know each other--and Apollo and Trucy start wondering if they’re going to have to start making bets about if they’re going to have a new dad by the end of the summer

Trucy finds a group of friends to fall in with almost immediately--she ends up moving into a cabin with Athena, Pearl, and Juniper Woods

Meanwhile, Apollo’s stuck having to live with Phoenix in the staff cabins--and having to go through camp counselor orientation, where he meets fellow disgruntled counsellors Ema and Kay, who he bonds with over mutual distaste for having to supervise a bunch of kids with ~musical dreams~

(Kay got drafted into being a camp counselor by Edgeworth, who’s not quite her dad but who might as well be. She dragged Ema along because they’re dating and Ema needed a job to help with her grad school debts--studying forensics isn’t cheap!)

Sometime during the nebulous time period before camp Officially Begins, Apollo’s helping clean the dining hall and takes a break to chill and play some guitar and hash out one of his newest song ideas

While he’s doing this, Klavier just so happens to walk past the open window, on his way back from trying to argue with Edgeworth that he’d had a world tour planed for this summer, and what if the fans forget about him? He’s gotta get out of here!

Klavier’s entranced by Apollo’s singing--who is this mysterious singer with the fantastic voice and incredible music composition skills? He runs into the dining hall, only to find an empty room and a guitar propped up against the wall--no trace of the person who’d been playing

But Klavier can’t get the song out of his head--and so he vows that, before the summer’s end, he’s going to find out who was singing

The first time Apollo meets Klavier properly, he does not get the best first impression of the rockstar--Klavier’s supposed to be teaching a class about song composition and music theory, but he basically goes at it with the least enthusiasm possible and uses a bunch of technical terms that go way over the heads of the group of 12-to-14-year-olds Apollo’s supervising (including Trucy et al.)

Somewhere in here, Trucy finds out that Apollo has literally no idea who Klavier is, despite her having been obsessed with the Gavinners for at least three years now. She makes fun of him mercilessly.

Apollo ends up making some snarky comments about Klavier’s teaching ability to Ema, and Klavier overhears

The next time they encounter each other, Apollo’s moving some baking supplies from the storage into the kitchen, and Klavier stops him halfway--he asks Apollo what his problem with him is, and Apollo tells him straight--he thinks Klavier is acting way too high-and-mighty and not letting the kids have any fun in his classes. He chides him for his perfectionist attitude, telling him that the camp isn’t about putting together the perfect performance, it’s about learning and making mistakes and having fun.

(He’s mostly saying this because Trucy was really upset that she couldn’t follow the lesson the other day, and spent days stressing about how this might mean that she can’t be a real musician magician, and Apollo’s basically gonna defend Trucy with his life, even if he himself doesn’t want to be at camp)

Apollo asks Klavier about his experience at camp--surely everything wasn’t about being perfect the whole time back then?

He leaves Klavier to think about that and gets back to his errands--and Klavier does take Apollo’s words into account

During his next lesson, Klavier actually plans a kind of fun, hands-on activity, and Apollo’s surprised (and kind of touched, honestly)

They end up hanging out a lot more during their free time, after that, and realize they actually get along pretty well

Meanwhile, there’s background Narumitsu shenanigans going on where Phoenix and Miles keep having emotionally charged moments over really mundane things, like double-checking the food supplies and confirming the amount of music-themed cupcakes to be made for the weekly Music Event

Trucy and her group of friends are working to put together a performance for the Final Jam at the end of the summer--it’s just been announced that the winner of the Final Jam contest will get to record a song with Klavier, and it’s basically a guaranteed jump-start to their career

They’ve got stiff competition--(though I haven’t decided from who yet, OOPS, lmao--open to suggestions! Who’s around their age and Mean? Bonny and Betty DeFamme, perhaps?)

Apollo has no plans to participate in the Final Jam at all--again, he doesn’t like performing onstage in front of a bunch of people who are going to judge him

HOWEVER--the rival group to Trucy’s plot a scheme--they’re going to frame Trucy and her friends for masterminding a sabotage of the competition! Whoever the “leader” of this group is plants evidence around Trucy’s cabin and drags Edgeworth into it to investigate--though Edgeworth believes that Trucy and her friends are being set up, his hands are tied--the rival group have Connections and famous family members, and the camp’s already struggling financially. He can’t afford to have these rich parents pull their support

And so, Trucy and her group are banned from performing--until the end of the Final Jam.

Obviously, Apollo and Phoenix are outraged. Phoenix goes to confront Miles about it, and finds out about the financial situation--and Apollo asks Trucy if there’s anything he can do

And Trucy sees an Opportunity--because she’s Noticed Apollo and Klavier spending time together

She asks Apollo to perform at the Final Jam on her behalf, and Apollo, although kind of uncomfortable with the idea, agrees, because he wants to make his sister feel better, and if he’s got to face his fears to do it...well, he’s going to do it for her, even if he makes a fool of himself

Meanwhile, Klavier’s been trying and failing to find out who his mystery singer from the start of the summer is--and he’s running out of time.

And Then...

it’s the Final Jam!

A bunch of performers perform various musical numbers, and they’re all pretty good

Klavier is one of the judges, along with the rest of the Gavinners and Miles Edgeworth

Apollo actually hadn’t technically entered the competition during the designated sign-up period, so he’s not on the official program--he gets announced as a surprise late entry, and Klavier is taken aback

because he had no idea that Apollo could sing, or play an instrument, or anything--Apollo had basically just made out that he was here against his will and got dragged into this to help out his dad, Phoenix

So Apollo walks out onstage, looking very awkward and holding his guitar, and all eyes are on him

and Klavier recognizes the guitar, doesn’t he? It’s the guitar that was in the dining hall, that first day

But wouldn’t that mean...?

And then Apollo starts playing, and he opens his mouth to sing, and from the very first notes, Klavier knows this is it

This is the song!

Anyway, he’s stunned, shocked, until without realizing it, he’s stumbled up, grabbed a microphone, and he’s onstage, singing along with Apollo in a Dramatic Duet(TM)

Apollo’s also stunned--he’s spent the entire summer listening to Klavier lament about his mysterious singer that he’s trying to find, and this song that he’s never gotten out of his head (that Apollo never actually got to hear, come to think of it...), and it turns out that in the end...he was Klavier Gavin’s mystery muse?

They finish the song, and Edgeworth announces that that’s it--it’s the end of Final Jam!

The judges go away to tally the scores, and...what’s this?

The curtains go up, the lights turn on, and it’s a surprise performance, from Trucy, Pearl, Athena, and Junie!

They get to play the song they’ve been working on all summer, and it’s a hit--surprisingly good for a bunch of kids between 12 and 14!

(Trucy’s integrated magic tricks and it looks Super Cool)

The votes come in, and...

turns out Apollo got disqualified for the fact that Klavier ended up singing with him, oops

(He’s secretly glad--he didn’t really want to get roped into more public performances with Klavier)

The winner actually ends up being Vera Misham, who’d entered with a heartfelt ballad set against a backdrop of her own drawings

But Trucy’s made a bunch of new friends and got to surprise everyone with her magic/music combo!

And Apollo meets up with Klavier out by the lake, after the show, to talk things over

because really, Klavier spent an entire summer pining after him?

And Klavier’s like, “Wow, I’m an idiot, I spent the entire summer torn between hoping I’d find this mysterious singer who stole my heart right at the start, and wanting to get to know you more--and it turns out you’re one and the same, and all my worrying was for nothing.”

to which Apollo responds: “You’re sure you’re not...disappointed? Because I’m just...me, and I don’t really want to be a performer, and I’m really not that cool, and--”

Klavier cuts him off: “Nein, don’t talk like that! You are perfect, exactly as you are--and I can’t tell you how happy I am that it’s you”

And Apollo lets himself believe Klavier, and they just smile at each other with these stupid huge grins on their faces, standing out on the dock on the lake, before Apollo finally decides that fuck he’s gonna go for it

and he kisses Klavier, right there, arms wrapped around his neck so he doesn’t go falling over with the combo of standing on a dock and standing on his tiptoes so he can reach

They only break apart when they’re interrupted by the sound of raucous applause from the bushes by the shore--

where Trucy and her band were watching, and they cheer them on

(Apollo turns exactly as red as his signature hoodie, and even Klavier is hard-pressed to just laugh it all off)

Klavier and Apollo make sure that they’ve got each others’ contact details, and confirm that yes, they want to try this dating thing, even though they’re both going to be pretty busy and not in the same place

The only thing left is to get all packed and ready to go home--so Klavier walks Apollo (and Trucy) back to the cabin Apollo shares with Phoenix--

--only to walk in on Phoenix and Miles finally having gotten their acts together, making out on the couch.

(Trucy wins a lot of money that night, and everyone at the camp learns definitively not to enter into bets with her)

In the end--Trucy’s got lifelong friends and promising feedback that her music/magic idea is gonna work out; Apollo’s got a boyfriend and more confidence in his songwriting abilities; Klavier’s also got a boyfriend and learned that it’s important to not forget what’s fun about making music; and Phoenix and Miles found each other again after Several Years Apart (and later decide that they’re going to try running the camp together--but that’s something that’s not immediate).

Vera gets to record her song with Klavier; and Kay and Ema actually end up having a pretty good summer, despite their cynical outlooks at the start (and Kay’s attempts at stirring up mischief)

fin.

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keijikunn · 4 years

Text

Memories ─ part ii

── A @celestialarchiveshq collab “Connected by fate”

Pairing: Semi Eita x fem!reader Tags: college!au, kinda angst i guess, fluff, SLOW BURN, maybe strangers to lovers!au Summary: On the last day of the year, you dream of your soulmate’s most impactant memory that happened within the year. Each memory will be different each year. Word count: ~5.4k

Author’s note: Second part is up guys! Hope you all enjoy it, and please let me know what you're thinking so far! Reblogs are appreciated <3

WARNINGS: insecurity, mention of injury (it’s a broken arm), self-esteem issues, let me know if I forgot anything

MEMORIES’ MASTERLIST

2005 (age of 11)

The gymnasium was filled with the sound of the sneakers against the hard wooden floor, constant screams of “left!”, “right!”, “block!” and occasional cheerings when someone scored a point. Your soulmate was excited for practice as usual, the love he felt towards volleyball was huge, and the bubbling sensation on his stomach gave away he was excited for something.

“Boys, gather up!” The coach called the team near the benches, everyone sitting on the floor in front of the man. “It’s time to announce which positions you’ll play for the next season, and possibly for the rest of your middle school years.”

A list of names got called, the younger ones assigned to variate between a couple of positions; the older ones were mostly spikers or middle blockers. With naive eyes, being able to score points for the team was euphoric, as if the weight of the world was on their shoulders. Your soulmate waited restlessly, a part of his mind wandering on his arduous training, trying his best to achieve his dream position in the team.

He called his name, eyes quickly to find his coach’s face. “You’ll be the on the start lineup as setter.”

Your soulmate gasped, his lips quickly turning upwards as he smiled in ecstasy. His close friends lightly punched his back and arms, congratulating his hard work. All the boy could think was his father’s words about how your efforts are paid back, just like his guitar classes. He thought about the countless practices he tried his best to improve, asking tips to his coaches and seniors, tossing a ball against his bedroom wall - only to hear Aime complain about it during dinner.

It felt good, amazing even. He understood the concept of working hard perfectly, after experiencing it twice. Something inside him made himself feel unstoppable, as long as he has his determination to do better, he could achieve every and anything he ever dreamed about. Your soulmate had never felt such proudness of himself before, and he had every reason to feel like it.

2006 (age of 12)

Semi’s relationship with his relatives was good, all his uncles and aunts were nice to him, his older cousins never really bothered him and the younger ones were funny to play tag games. However, the boy wasn’t excused of having a certain degree of dislike towards his same-age cousin Touma. Being born in the same year was great when they were little, playdates worked well and they’d always make each other’s company during boring adults reunion.

Things started to change once they got older and started elementary school. Touma was constantly praised in his school, claimed as the best student in his year, with almost perfect scores and impeccable participation in events. Semi used to be happy for his cousin, but the feeling changed once the other started to brag about himself, belittling Semi’s achievements and efforts.

After that, their relationship was never the same, and both of them knew it. The thing was that their mothers weren’t aware of the sudden change of affection between them, resulting in regular Sunday lunches over their place. It was uncomfortable the silence between them, the pair sitting on opposite ends of the large sofa, doing their best to ignore the other’s presence.

“Aunt!” Touma called Semi’s mother, a too innocent smile on his face. “Did mom tell you that I’m the best student in my school? And the teachers want to subscribe me in a Math competition?”

“That’s great to hear, Touma-kun! You’re really smart!” His mother cheered way too excited, Semi noted, and the boy tried to recall every time he had big news to tell if his mom praised him like she did with his cousin.

“Even the director talked to me about changing a few classes, saying Touma is capable of attending advanced classes.” His aunt gushed with pride. “And he’s even the best player in the soccer team!”

“Wow, Touma, you’re really amazing!” Semi was undeniably jealous at how easily his mother complimented someone who wasn’t her own son. He was furious at her, at Touma, but especially at himself for not doing better to receive the same praises.

“I’m naturally good, aunt! I don’t have to study or practice more to improve.” His cousin stated, sending Semi and side look in a provocative way, like inciting him to fight back. “And what about Eita-kun?”

“Eita always tries his best in volleyball and guitar practices,” his mom started, fidgeting with the cloth she used to dry the washed plates. “He’s a hardworking boy, right, Eita?”

“Yeah…” he muttered in response, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Did his mother lie to him about working hard on what you love? To earn her compliments he should be a genius, be born good at that thing and that’s that?

The rage inside him was replaced by disappointment, even sadness. His parents lied to him just to make him happy because he was their son, it was their obligation to hype their children even if they weren’t that happy. Semi wondered if his mother would’ve lied to Touma if he was her son - and the answer came quite easily: she wouldn’t, because she had no reason to do so.

At that moment, everything he believed started to fall apart. His concept of being good, of worth of praise and recognition. Years of proudness were thrown away in mere seconds, a mentality Semi built to face every challenge destroyed in the worst way possible: by his own mother.

I bet mom wanted a son like Touma, she’d replace me easily.

I’m not good enough, am I?

The following days after the first rehearsal you had with the band, you and Semi met up more often to talk about your project, what you have so far and what do you wanted from him. Although Semi didn’t spare snarky comments towards you, he was cooperative and even suggested a thing or two.

“So, what’s the lyrics?” Semi asked, both of you were in a small café near the campus. His long and slim fingers tapped the wooden table, while his left - and injured - arm rested near his body.

“Well,” you started, offering a sheepelesly smile. “It’s your story, you should write it.”

“It’s your project, Y/n.” He tried to correct you, closing tightly his jaw in annoyance. Overall it was quite easy to read the singer’s body language, it being more expressive than his words.

“My project is to produce a song - which I’ll do when you come up with the lyrics.” The man didn’t seem to be convinced, but either way let out a long sigh, bothered by the situation. “Whatever you want to tell the world, any suppressed feelings, I’m all ears to your ideas.”

Semi visibly was taken aback at your choice of wording, mouth slightly slacking and his brown pupils quivered as he lowered his gaze to the table. You knew it was rather dangerous to suggest something like that, giving the fact he resisted for a while before agreeing to help you. On the other hand, though, it was your only chance to get what you really wanted: a song filled with the deepest and rawest emotions.

Much like your soulmate, the man in front of you closed himself from the others. The last 10 years, you dreamed about a very hard tempered, isolated and hurt boy and you didn’t truly understand those feelings. Semi, in your judgment (that you acknowledged could be completely wrong), gave off the impression he might understand him. Perhaps through Semi, you would be able to comfort your soulmate, because regardless of his belief or not in being destined together, you needed to do anything to sooth his doubts.

“Semi-san?” A male voice broke the silence you two fell into without noticing, lifting you head, you saw a rather tall guy standing by the side of your table. He sported a sharp and uneven haircut alongside with a tired expression, though his eyes were wide opened in surprise.

“Oh, Shirabu.” Semi breathed out the name, also surprised by the sudden encounter. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” the awkwardness between them made you fidget in your seat, averting your eyes from them to look straight into your cup of coffee. “How- how are you doing?”

“Fine, actually- and you? Heard you were accepted in med school,” the singer commented. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, uh- Y/n, this is Shirabu.” Semi introduced you two as you briefly exchanged a polite ‘hello’, a bit awkward by the situation. “We used to play in the same volleyball team during high school.”

“Oh, nice.” You reacted slightly rushed, the tension between the two previous teammates was growing as the seconds passed by. “Was Semi a good teammate? I’m playing support in his band and I can say he’s quite demanding.”

“Yes!” Shirabu exclaimed quickly, his nervousness showing off. “Semi-san was a good teammate and a respectful senpai.”

“Though you respected Wakatoshi the most, right?” Though you presumed Semi said that to joke around his underclassman, at some instance you felt bitterness hidden behind the playful comment. He laughed half-heartedly as Shirabu panicked to give him a proper answer. “I’m joking, relax.”

“I have to go, actually,” the younger man stated, offering the two of you an apologetic smile. “I have another period to attend… Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Semi-san, Y/n-san. Bye!”

“Take care!”

“Bye.”

Semi relaxed his whole body after hearing the front door close, running his right hand through the ash locks of his hair. You observed him shift on the chair, too immersed inside his own thoughts to notice your analytical gaze on him.

“Do you mind me asking why you look so shaken up?” Your voice was soft and lower, as if the choice of volume would prevent Semi from getting angry at you.

“He used to play in the same position as me.” Based on the few knowledge you had about volleyball, you assumed it was possible for two players to share the same role in the team, so you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “We both were setters, he took my place on the start lineup.”

2011 (age of 17)

The third years arrived late at practice and the coach, even though knowing they had extra classes, screamed at them to change quickly. Unphased by the outburst, Ushijima, Tendou, Semi, Reon and Yamagata did as they were told so in order to start the warm ups. Each one of them took their position on the court, ready to practice their main abilities; however, Washijo called out Semi and Shirabu to the sidelines, a serious expression on the older’s face.

“Semi, I’d like you to focus on your serves from now on.”

“What- why, coach?” Semi asked surprised, closing his hand into fists angrily.

“Shirabu will be the main setter of the team.” Washijo stated, and for a moment the world has stopped moving in Semi’s perspective. “You’ll be the pinch server.”

“It’s not fair, coach! I’m-” the words died in the boy’s throat, giving up on arguing with him. Throughout the years he’s been trained by Washijo, Semi knew his decisions were made to improve the team’s strength and chances to win. Nothing would make the coach change his mind. “I understood.”

He bowed to Washijo and Shirabu before turning back to head to the end of the court, getting closer to those who were practicing their serves. Semi took a ball from the cart, smacking it to hit the floor a couple of times before tossing it into the air to serve. On the other side of the net, the ball landed near the fifth position, but the thought of scoring a service ace didn’t soothe the burning rage inside of him.

Once again Semi was told right in front of him that he’s not good enough, he wasn’t needed on the court to articulate all the offensives against the opponent team. Of all people. He was subbed by an underclassmen. Semi Eita, a famous setter during middle school, who was accepted at Shiratorizawa through a sports scholarship.

Angry tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them slip through his eyelids. No, Semi was too proud to let anyone see how frustrated he was; he wouldn’t give Shirabu the satisfaction to see him break down, even though his junior could not think like that.

Years of hard working, training every single day to improve his tosses, every time he bent his fingers during practices. All for nothing. Semi felt stupid thinking that it would be enough, he should have learned years before with Touma. Efforts don’t take you anywhere if you’re not a genius. He should have known better.

Serve after serve landed perfectly in spots other teams’ defense would break: between the first, sixth and fifth position; so close to the sidelines some players would think it would be out, just to be surprised by the referee pointing the flag to the ground. However, it wasn’t enough, not for Semi. At that moment, no service ace would make up the thrilling sensation of setting the perfect ball that leads the team one point closer to the victory.

It was unfair how he was subbed during his third and last year in that team, after that season he would retire from the club’s activities and solely focus on university entrance exams. Washijo should know how he feels, especially because the coach himself couldn’t play because of his height. So why has he done that?

His gaze unconsciously fell over the main court, where the spikers were practicing with Shirabu. Semi desperately searched for any fault in the setter’s tosses, in his posture and even in his movements around the other players, anything to point out to the coach as an excuse for him to change his mind about the situation. What angered the boy the most was the fact Shirabu had such clean moves and a great analytical vision - he was way more competent that Semi himself in the matter of technique.

What took the biggest toll on him, though, was seeing Ushijima and Reon hitting every toss with such ease and power. Their performance was better than when Semi was the official setter, he couldn’t recall any practice or game both spikers were surpassing their usually good performance. That made everything clear to Semi: he couldn’t bring the best of his teammates as a setter, he wasn’t skilled enough to help his team on every offensive. He had to accept it.

There will always be someone better than me, Semi thought to himself, panting from tiredness. I’ll never be the first option for anything, I should have known that.

You’re pathetic, Semi Eita.

End of October, 2017 (current time, age of 23)

To say you were nervous was a understandment, you’ve never performed in a live house before - and it definitely wasn’t like school presentations, as you tried to convince yourself. The fact that those people in front of the stage weren't there to actually see you helped a bit to calm down your nerves, though not enough to prevent your hands from shaking.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually nervous, Y/n.” Semi teased you, earning a whine from you. The singer was relaxed - it would surprise you if he weren’t - with his arms crossed over his chest, carefully enough to put his right one over the other. He was looking good, you admitted to yourself, with black jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather black jacket. “You’re a music producer, you shouldn’t be afraid of the audience.”

“Firstly, I’m not a music producer,” you started angrily, narrowing your eyes at him. “And secondly, that’s why I chose to learn how to produce songs, because I won’t perform them.”

“You can either focus on a dot ahead of you, ignoring all eyes looking to the stage or,” he stepped closer to you, bending down a little so his mouth reached closer to your ear. “You can just look at me.”

You stepped back in surprise, feeling your cheeks heat with the exaggerated flow of blood through your veins. Semi laughed at your distressed expression, leaving you behind to search for his bandmates in order to prepare themselves to go on stage. You had no idea if the guy teased you on purpose or not, but it was effective: you were no longer anxious to be in front of people, but because you’d be next to Semi for at least 30 minutes.

The moment you dreaded the most arrived sooner than you thought, a staff from the live-house ushered you four to the stage. Akihiko sat behind the set of drums, positioning himself comfortably to start; Takeshi plugged the bass on the amplifier, adjusting the volume as he strummed the cords. Semi stood in the middle of the stage, pulling the microphone stand in front of him up to get it closer to his mouth. Your hands worked quickly on setting up your guitar, earning you enough time to pay attention to the audience’s noise through the closed curtains.

Before you could get lost in your own thoughts, a fixed and intense gaze on you pulled you out from overthinking. Semi’s brown eyes looked straight into yours, and somehow you felt a wave of calmness wash over you, deafening the sparse chattering around you. His lips formed a small smile, and differently from the sarcastic ones he usually offers you to mess around, it was genuine.

“You can do it, relax.” He mouthed, you barely caught the words as the staff crew announced the band and the curtains opened. Returning the smile with a nod, eyes diverting its focus to Akihiko - who beat his drumsticks four times, starting the presentation.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight!” Semi said on the microphone after the last song of the setlist, earning back a wave of screams and claps. “And special thanks to our support Y/n.”

The sudden attention you received startled you, but your response was to simply smile and bow to the public. You weren’t feeling shy at that moment, the adrenaline in your veins even made yourself enjoy the positive response from the public. As Akihiko came towards the stage and thanked everyone, the staff closed the curtains and Takeshi - who was closest to the exit - led the way out.

“You did amazing, Y/n!” Akihiko beamed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“I was so nervous, though!” You laughed with them at your answer. “But it was a good experience, I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Great, because you’re in the band for a couple more shows.” Semi announced with a smirk, only to that morph into a bigger smile. “I still have a few weeks with the cast and physiotherapy to attend… you better enjoy the spotlight, rockstar.”

All of you burst into laughter, heading to the backstage room you got ready before. The boys encountered their own friends in the process, and while you didn’t know any of them, you decided to organize your own stuff. Soon, your guitar was securely inside its case, a couple of makeup products were stored in the small bag you brought and your cellphone was stuffed in your backpocket.

“Eita-nii!” A new, and loud, voice bursted into the room. The girl - who you presumed was Semi’s sister by the honorific she used - ran towards the singer, wrapping her arms around his body. The man himself reciprocates the gesture, although shyer than her. “You and the boys were great today! Oh- and who is that girl who played support? You’ve never told me it would be a girl! I thought you’d invited Kaito.”

“Hey,” Semi said louder, looking at you. The unsaid invite to come closer made you get up from your seat in the corner and walk towards them. “Aime, this is my friend Y/n. Y/n, this is my annoying younger sister, Aime.”

“Nii-chan!” Aime whined, quickly dismissing her brother as her attention focused solely on you. “You did so good on the stage! Eita has never told me he was friends with anyone new, let out a girl. I thought he was that antisocial that had only Akihiko and Takeshi-kun as friends.”

“I mean,” you giggled at Aime’s rambling, she was the complete opposite from her brother, which was endearing to see. “I didn’t know Semi considered me as his friends, once he thought I was hooking up with Akihiko.”

“What the hell, Semi?” The drummer jumped in the conversation, a grimace on his face. “I’d never do anything with Y/n- gosh I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Should I say you’re the stalker who would leave me alone if I sang for your project, then? I can still change the status.” Semi teased you, in response, you lightly punched his left arm. “By the way, what are you doing here Aime? Don’t you have a curfew to follow? Does mom and dad know your whereabouts?”

“I’m not ten anymore, Eita!” She let out a huff in annoyance. “I’m twenty, remember that? A college student that has every right to enjoy herself on a Friday night after a tiring week.”

You let the two siblings bicker between them, taking in that new side of the singer you’ve never imagined he’d have. The usually cold, snarky boy also had a soft spot for his sister was also the common overprotective, caring older brother. You had to admit the duality in Semi’s personas suited him, and you felt like another side of his mysteries was presented to you.

“Well, I have to get going…” you announced gathering your things up, hearing Takeshi and Akihiko’s protests. “I booked a studio early in the morning, I want to be productive, not a literal zombie going over a few samples. Not to mention the last bus will stop by soon. Thank you so much for your hard work, guys! And also, it was a pleasure to meet the better Semi, Aime.”

“I barely know you but I’m sure I’ll like you!” Aime hugged you, while Semi scoffed ironically. “Hope we meet again soon, Y/n!”

“Wait, let me grab my coat.” Semi stopped you from leaving the room after saying goodbye to both Takeshi and Akihiko. “I’ll take you to the bus stop. Who knows what could happen in the middle of the night?”

“And what will you do? Hit them with your cast?” You sassed, the man rolled his eyes, taking the small bag from your hands.

The two of you left the live-house in silence, enjoying how the loudness gradually decreased and the city noises overtook your senses. You started to feel tired from the show just now, your eyelids were heavier than usual and your shoulder muscles ache due to the tension and nervousness you were feeling. Either way, you felt good, performing was nice - though if you had to choose, being inside a studio felt much more comfortable.

“You did well today.” Semi spoke out of blue, with your peripheral vision you analysed him. His head was upwards looking to the sky, the corner of his mouth was tugged in a small smile and his posture gave off the feeling he was feeling satisfied. “You were so nervous before going on stage, but when we started, you looked like you’ve performed before. You have a talent.”

“It was the adrenaline.” Both of you laughed at your comment, silencing yourselves as you arrived at the bus stop. It was empty, which was expected given the fact it was almost one in the morning, so you took a seat next to each other. “I never imagined you were the protective older brother…”

“Trust me, you’re not the first one to tell me this,” he scoffed jokingly, a much softer expression adorned his face at the topic of his sister. “Aime is just… something else, you know? As her older brother, I think I have to shield her from being hurt - even if it means I get hurt”

“What, have you punched someone in the face because of her?” You joked, only to the laughter die on your throat at his positive response with a nod. “You’re kidding me, Semi!”

“I’m telling the truth!” He protested, a frown appearing on his face. “Some boy thought he could call my sister a bitch and leave unpunished. It was my very first fight, but as Aime’s brother, it was my job to teach that little shit a lesson.”

“Bet he punched you in the face, as well.”

“Yeah, but,” Semi stopped talking, inhaling deeply before turning to you. “You saw how she is, I- I can’t never let someone take it away from her. Nobody is allowed to hurt her like…”

“Like…” you tried to encourage him to speak after a few seconds, only for him to sigh tiredly and give you a meek smile.

“Nothing… guess it’s just the cliché older brother talk,” the way he avoided finishing his original train of thought didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you let it go to not cause further embarrassment. As the two of you entered in a comfortable silence, you saw the bus turning into the main avenue. “The princess’ carriage has arrived, my lady.”

“Thank you very much for protecting me, my knight in shining… arm cast.” You giggled at your lame joke, taking the bag from his hands. “I’ll talk to you soon… regarding the project and stuff.”

“And don’t forget we have rehearsals.” Semi reminded you, getting up from his seat. The bus stopped in front of you, the two of you stared at each other not knowing what to do. Before you could turn and hop on the vehicle, the man ruffled your hair with a mischievous smile. “Good night.”

“Good night, Semi.”

1997 (age of 3)

The white corridors seemed to be longer in Semi’s perspective, his young perception didn’t allow him to estimate how long he'd been walking with his grandparents on that floor. What buzzed in his mind was the new piece of information grandma told him before leaving the house.

“Let’s visit mommy and Aime-chan, Eita-kun.”

The boy was still confused why his mother had to go to a hospital to meet his younger sister - even though his parents had innumerous talks about this special day. Nevertheless, Semi was excited to see mom and dad after a whole day without them - and to finally see Aime.

Grandad knocked on the door, gently pushing it open so Semi could walk in. The sight of strange wires and tubes on his mother’s skin scared him, bumping into the older’s legs. Sensing his distressed expression, his father came closer to him, scooping the little kid in his arms. Semi hid his face on the crook of his dad’s neck, avoiding eye contact with the starling objects near his beloved mom.

“Eita,” her smooth voice called him, he lifted slightly his head to meet her eyes, only to hide again. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Mommy is hurt…” he whispered, pointing to all the equipment near the bed.

“No, buddy, mom is not hurt,” his dad denied, tapping lightly his back as an invitation for him to look around. “These things are making sure mommy is doing fine, she’s been pretty tired, remember we talked about it? How would Mommy feel tired after Aime left her tummy?”

An unknown whine filled the room, making Semi lift his head to search for the source of said sound. His eyes eventually fell on the tiny baby on his mother’s arms, opening and closing her mouth as little noises escaped through her thin lips.

“Aime?” Semi pointed out, suddenly feeling curious. His father sat him down next to his mother, letting him have a better view of the baby. “Aime is small!”

“Yes, she is, sweetheart.” His mother agreed softly, pulling the blanket slightly downwards so her son could see Aime’s face. “But soon she’ll grow bigger, and you two can play together. Will you share your toys with her?”

“Only if she doesn’t drool on them!” His statement made everyone laugh, but Semi couldn’t care less, too entertained with his sister. “I love Aime.”

“You have to protect her as the older brother, Eita.” His father told him, coming closer to them. Semi nodded excitedly, lowering his head to leave a kiss on Aime’s forehead.

2012 (age of 18)

All Semi could see was red as he approached Aime in front of a café. She was accompanied by her friends and some stranger boy, who was awfully close to his baby sister. The words a fellow classmate told him before they left the dorms for winter break rang through his head.

“Hey, Semi, I heard a guy from another school has been hitting on your sister for a while. My friend told me she’s pretty bothered by him.”

“Aime!” He screamed, heavy footsteps marking his way over the thin layer of snow. The said girl turned around, a mixed expression between relief and fear on her face. Stopping in front of the boy, Semi opened a bit more his chest in order to look more intimidating. “What the fuck do you want with her?”

“None of your business, dude.” His voice was coated with anger, the short phrase said between gritted teeth. “I saw this beauty first, back off.”

“And I said I’m not interested!” Aime piped in with a squeak.

“You heard her.” Semi stepped closer to him, locking eyes with the stranger. “Get lost.”

“This little slut is playing hard to get.” The world seemed to stop spinning, Semi took a second to process what that guy had the audacity to call his little sister. “I dare you to say this after I-”

He couldn’t finish his words as Semi threw the first punch right into his left cheek, knocking him to the floor. Kneeling next to him, the pinch server proceeded to get a firm grasp on the collar of his coat with the left hand, while his right one collided with the boy’s face repeatedly. Semi could hear at the back of his head people screaming at him, Aime calling out his name, but nothing would make him stop until that brat learned his lesson.

The other boy managed to get a hold of himself, punching Semi on his sides - who lost his breath and received another hit on the face. On his tongue, he felt the taste of his own blood - and he wasn’t able to distinguish where it could be from: either from his lips or the inside of his cheeks. With his knee, Semi returned the blows on his ribs, quick to sit himself on the boy’s stomach.

Every punch he gave seemed to increase its power, shifting between his nose, cheeks and mouth. Semi has never felt so enraged before, just remembering what he had called Aime made his body warm with adrenaline and wrath.

“I dare you to call my sister,” Semi muttered between huffs of air, feeling difficulty to breathe in and out due to the intense body movement and the pain on his sides. “A slut again. I fucking dare you!”

Before he could do anything else, two men held him back, making sure to wrap their hands on his arms, and lifted him up. Semi, in his last act of anger, kicked the boy laying on the floor aimlessly. The other boy was aided by another man, refusing his care to get up and look straight into Semi’s eyes.

“Watch out, asshole, I’m getting back to you.”

“Be ready to have a fucking broken nose.” Semi mocked him, and before he could continue his threats, Aime appeared in front of him with tears stained over his cheeks. “I was the one who got punched and you’re crying.”

“Are you insane!?” She asked distressingly, knocking on his chest - which made him lose his breath. “Why would you do that?”

“Isn't it obvious?” He asked, gently freeing himself from the men’s grasp. “I’m your older brother.”

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rosethornewrites · 5 years

Text

Fic: Playing with Fire

Relationship: Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant

Characters: Lila Rossi, Rose Lavillant, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Juleka Couffaine, Alya Césaire, Ivan Bruel, Chloé Bourgeois, Luka Couffaine, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Fang

Additional Tags: Lila salt, Good Chloé Bourgeois, Uncle Jagged Stone, Emotional Support Crocodile, Principal Damocles salt, Bustier salt

Summary: Lila tries to break up Kitty Section. It doesn't go as planned. Salty.

Notes: Had this stuck in my head as an idea. There’s been a trope of Luka being kicked out of Kitty Section because of Lila pulling something like this. Except I don’t think she’d get that far with it. Also, every time I hear this song it makes me think of Lila.

AO3 link

She's got a history of making a scene, yeah

She's telling stories she’s gaslighting

-The Interrupters

“Are you sure it’s… appropriate for an older boy like Luka to be in Kitty Section?”

Marinette froze in the middle of taking a bite of a croissant as Lila’s words floated across the courtyard, her mind filled suddenly with the desire to shriek at the liar, even knowing that would backfire as it always did. She wanted to defend Luka. If Adrien was here rather than at a photo shoot, he’d see Lila was actually trying to hurt people with this.

She barely realized she’d stopped breathing until she started coughing, and that nearly sent the bite of food down the wrong tube. By the time she’d recovered, she had missed any response from the present members of Kitty Section, and Lila was talking again.

“I’m just concerned, is all. I’ve told you I’m like Jagged Stone’s favorite person, right? I know a few people in the industry, really. And some of the execs just don’t sign bands if there’s such a big age gap between members. Like you three and Luka.”

Marinette put down the croissant, trying to build her courage. She could defend Luka.

“But Luka’s Juleka’s brother,” Rose said, looking concerned.

“Yeah, that can look even weirder.”

Marinette started to stand up, but then she caught a Look that passed between the couple. At times they were so in sync it was scary.

Juleka glanced her way, shook her head minutely, and quirked a half-smirk as though to say, We got this.

“You must have worked with some amazing people, Lila!” Rose gushed.

Her admiration sounded just a touch off, but Lila was too busy preening to notice.

“I have. Clara Nightingale texts me all the time.”

“Oh, I have an idea,” Juleka said, her voice faux shy. “I-I mean, if you don’t mind? Like can we try guessing the artists you know? Like a game?”

Lila’s smile widened. “Oh, that sounds like so much fun!”

Marinette carefully kept her face blank, picking at her croissant and ignoring the pitying look Alya sent her way from her seat beside Lila. It wouldn’t do to give the game away.

Ivan’s expression had also gone blank, as though he too knew what was up and wanted to see what happened.

“Oh! I have one. 30 Seconds to Mars?” Rose asked.

Lila shook her head. “No, but I know their producer.”

“What about My Chemical Romance?” It was Juleka’s turn.

“Yeah, they’re a silly bunch,” Lila said with a giggle. “I dated the lead singer for a few months. We’re still friends.”

Marinette had to stop herself from snorting—like an artist in his 40s was going to date a teenager! But clearly Lila only knew the band name and that they were popular among teens.

But apparently the game wasn’t over, and Rose made another guess. In the next three minutes, Lila told them all about three songs written for her and exotic concert venues. Some of the smiles of their classmates were becoming a bit forced as they recognized band names and knew more about them than the liar. Marinette knew enough about music to know that every single band they’d named had sibling members.

“The Carpenters?” Juleka eventually asked.

By the way Lila’s face brightened, Marinette could guess she definitely knew they were famous and would make a great story.

“Oh my gosh, we’re so close! I helped them write some of the lyrics for their most recent album!”

Alya made a choking noise, and while trying not to crack up Marinette realized the girl had finally caught one of the lies.

Chloé was suddenly hissing in her ear, “Put the call on speaker when it rings,” before she moved toward the stairs to the classroom.

Marinette glanced at her suspiciously, but was immediately drawn back to the show when Juleka crossed her arms and laughed.

The smile on Lila’s face faltered for a moment, before returning with a look of confusion. “Did I say something funny?”

“Their last album came out in 1981, so unless you’re secretly like 50 years old pretending to be a teenager like I’m guessing you’ve pretended everything else, it’s hilarious,” Juleka drawled loudly, her shyness momentarily absent in her glee.

In the stunned silence, during which Lila’s face twitched and turned an interesting array of colors, Marinette’s phone rang.

The screen read Uncle Jagged.

Marinette blinked, suddenly realizing what Chloé had meant, and—

Chloé had gotten Jagged to call her?!

She answered the call, putting it on speaker. “Um, hello?”

“Marinette! Where’s the fire?! Drive faster, Penny!” He sounded almost frantic.

“Fire?” She asked.

“I heard my favorite niece is having an emergency. What’s wrong?”

“I’m just at school, Uncle Jagged,” she said, putting emphasis on his name and taking joy in how Lila’s face turned a mottled white. “Having lunch and a show. Are you in Paris?”

“The school? Penny, she’s at the school.” Jagged’s voice was distant as he talked to his assistant, then came back full force. “Hang tight. Uncle Jagged and Aunt Penny are coming. Clara’s here, too!”

The line went dead.

Lila stood abruptly. “Oh, I just remembered, I need to—”

Ivan put his hands on her shoulders gently, suddenly behind her. “Sit.”

The Italian’s eyes darted around the table, finding no sympathy. She sat. Ivan kept his hands on her shoulders, not quite menacing.

Chloé’s laugh rang out from above, and Marinette glanced up to see that the blonde had M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier in tow.

“What is it you need us to see, Mlle. Bourgeois?” the principal demanded. “We were enjoying lunch.”

Jagged sprinted through the entrance, Fang on a leash and easily keeping up. “Marinette! I came right away!”

“M. Stone!” M. Damocles sounded a bit strangled. “You cannot bring that… creature on school property!”

“Can so. Fang’s my emotional support crocodile!”

Penny trotted up from behind him and handed a slip of paper to the principal.

Clara was behind Penny, looking concerned as she approached. “Marinette, are you unwell? I hear for us you’ve a tale to tell.”

Marinette’s face grew warm. “I’m okay, Clara. I’m not sure why Jagged thought there was an emergency.”

Chloé let out an irritated huff. “Because there was. The entire class was being seduced by a liar’s pretty stories, and that thot was bullying you.”

Jagged let out an outraged string of what sounded like they could be curse words if they were pronounced in a non-Cockney accent.

Eventually he scanned the courtyard. “Okay, which of you has been bullying my niece? It’s time for Fang’s lunch, anyway.”

“We don’t have the paperwork to cover that, Jagged,” Penny commented, though she too was leveling a hard stare at the students.

“Bullying certainly isn’t cool. Why was it allowed in this school?” Clara took a seat next to Marinette, taking one of her hands. “You of all people deserve much better: why, you’re a wonderful budding trend-setter.”

A lump was forming in Marinette’s throat; she’d spent so long being strong while all of this had been going on, figuring no one would believe her. But Chloé, of all people, had brought in the cavalry.

Juleka was the one to finally answer Jagged, pointing at Lila. “She’s the one. Just tried to convince me to kick my own brother out of our band and claimed she helped the Carpenters write their last album.”

Jagged studied Juleka for a moment. “You’re Anarka’s kid, yeah? ’Course you’ve got a band. Music’s in your blood.”

Then he turned to Lila. “So what other tall tales has this one been making up?”

Nathaniel opened his sketchbook. “That she’s best friends with Ladybug, has arthritis, got tinnitus saving your kitten from a runaway airplane, you wrote a song about her—“

“A kitten? A song? I’ve never seen that brat in all my life.”

“I mean, there’s more. But she also told us that Clara texts her all the time earlier.”

Clara’s expression turned stormy. “Using my name to borrow fame? I truly think you have no shame! The rest of this class needn’t lie, for they’ve all danced at my side!”

“She was pretending to be in Achu when we participated in your music video, Mlle. Nightingale,” Rose offered softly. “She’s also claimed to know Prince Ali, but I bet if I texted him right now we’d learn that’s a lie, too.”

Chloé scoffed, turning to M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier. “Did you even look into her claims about being in Achu, or having disabilities?”

The principal stuttered an excuse, while their teacher turned pale.

“It seems the school has dropped the ball. Her parents they should try to call.”

Lila chose that moment to push away from the table and out of Ivan’s reach, fleeing from the school as though her ugly-ass romper was on fire.

Marinette sighed. Volpina, take three, was likely on the horizon.

But as her classmates gathered around her apologizing, Alya sitting beside her and hugging her, she could feel it was all going to be okay.

Especially if she got to smack Lila around a little when she was akumatized.

I’m a match, she’s kerosene

You know she’s gonna burn down everything

She’s an arsonist in her pastime

And I’ve been burned for the last time

-The Interrupters

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #lila 'the liar' rossi #lila salt #jagged stone #clara nightingale #chloe bourgeois #chloe redemption #ivan bruel #penny rolling #damocles salt #bustier salt #alya cesaire

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dissident-vedder · 4 years

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- like real people do ( 𝐀. 𝐊. )

ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!

person a and b having a romantic lunch date over school cafeteria vegan nuggets and cold french fries.

INSPIRATIONS - like real people by hozier. prompt by @otp-prompts-for-you.

THIS FIC CONTAINS curse words.

A/N - layout by @adoresobs! the vegan nuggets were inspired a lot by @sideways-falling‘s vegan tags in her animal posts and the many hours we have spent talking about ak! this fic is also a high school!au, so anthony and the reader are around 17/18. the mr. smith part is based on my real life teacher, but name and class were changed, lol.

pushing the tupperware box towards you, anthony smiles as he opens his own, happy that he was finally able to spend a quiet lunch with you. hillel, michael, and jack usually trailed behind you both, so once they told him they were spending lunchtime in the music room, he was excited to be able to finally be alone with you at school. the two of you had met during a poetry workshop class, and the two immediately hit it off. in order to ask you out, he had written a page long poem about what he found interesting about you, and it made you begin to see yourself in ways you never thought possible. your self-esteem and confidence went through the roof when anthony was around.

he made sure what your diet was, never judging you when you told him you were a vegan. he wasn’t, of course, but once he got the gist of the diet, he adopted it, replacing all animal-based products with certified vegan groceries, and one year into your relationship, he replaced everything in his diet to a vegan substitute.

“how was mr. smith’s class?” he asked you, biting into a soggy french fry that he had packed. the sun was shining brightly on you, the courtyard filled with eating students.

you rolled your eyes, sighing heavily as you readied yourself for your rant. “it absolutely sucked ass! he collects the notebooks, gave us problems from the stupid algebra book to do, and at the end of class, he tells me that i did not, and i quote, ‘write my notes properly.’ how the fuck do i write notes properly? it’s based on how i fucking understand the fucking problem!” two people sitting nearby eyed you suspiciously. you sipped at your water bottle, fuming at your math teacher as anthony reached over to rub your shoulder to calm you down. he had mr. smith the previous year, and knew the frustration he had given many juniors in the years he worked at fairfax. “anyway,” you smiled softly at him, “how was mrs. anita’s class?”

he shrugged, chewing on a nugget as he thought of his answer. “she was out on maternity leave.”

“she had the baby?”

he laughed, “she had the baby.” a glazed look came over anthony’s eyes, and you knew he was thinking about it, wondering what the gender was and what it could possibly look like. on multiple occasions, mrs. anita’s husband came into the class (mrs. anita was his class sponsor), and would bring multiple boxes of pizza with him (vegetarian and regular). anthony had talked about wanting a child in the near future, and every time he talked about it, this glazed look came over his eyes, like it did now, and he looked so happy, so content in his little imagination, that, deep in your heart, you wished you were the one to grant him that wish. “i think it’s a girl, but she hasn’t said anything about it. i bet her cheeks are so chubby.” his cheeks flushed, heart swelling in his chest as he looked so content.

“i think the baby is a boy,” you chuckled, eating more fries. “and i think he most likely looks a lot like his dad.”

“well i think she will look like mrs. anita,” he placed a hand on his chest. “i’m right, you’re wrong. she had pregnancy acne, too!” he smacks the table with his hand, making the bottles jump in the air. “old wives tale says that pregnancy acne means that the mother is having a girl!”

“sometimes old wives tales lie!” you laugh, enjoying the talk you were able to get with anthony. when the others were around, they seemed to talk about sex and music, the latter being the only thing you actually listen to. growing up in a multi-talented household, you were raised to appreciate the arts, and even to participate in them. by 15, you played the guitar, bass, cello, piano, and the violin, and had written multiple poems that ended up published in newspapers around l.a.

“perhaps they don’t!” anthony laughed alongside you. “my mother got pregnancy acne and gave birth to a girl! my dad said she had perfect skin when she was pregnant with me.”

“my mother had multiple girls after me and she was perfectly fine,” you chuckled, closing the lid of the tupperware, pushing it away from you to allow you to lean your forearms against the table. “you just sucked the life out of her, anthony.” reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, he smiles brightly at you, flashing his crooked tooth, “perhaps.”

“but really,” you reached into your bag to grab the juice you had thrown in there that morning, “i hope it’s a boy. i have too many sisters.”

“it is the teacher’s baby, you know,” he reminded you, raising an eyebrow as he grabbed the bottle from your hand to take a sip. “i know, but it’s just that i want to help take care of a boy for once,” you pouted, resting your chin on your hands, waiting for anthony to give you the bottle back.

as he gives it back, lid screwed tightly, the bell rings, alarming everyone to begin making their way towards their next class. “see you after school,” anthony reaches over the table, grabbing your shoulder, and pulling you in for a kiss, one of the lunch monitors yelling at the two of you to stop the pda. you dreaded to think about what will happen next year.

this time next year, anthony will have graduated. this time next year, he will be off at college, possibly meeting a new girl that suited his needs better than you did. but until then, you had him all to yourself, a blessing that you never thought twice about, and a blessing you never wanted to let go off.

TAGLIST:

@stateofloveandvedder @state-of-love-and-lust @honeysympathy @grossgold @sea-sxns @d-arknecessities @sideways-falling

#anthony kiedis #anthony kiedis x reader #imagine anthony kiedis #anthony kiedis imagine #high school au #1970s au #lunch au #fairfax high school!anthony kiedis #hillel slovak #michael flea balzary #jack irons

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writingwithciara · 4 years

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Silent Auction (1) ~Topper Thornton~

summary: Kildare County High School decides to have an auction to save the arts programs. all the students are up for grabs and y/n is purchased by the least likely person. her worst nightmare. her nemesis. someone who doesn’t even attend the school.

word count: 1.4k

pairings: topper x reader, pope x kiara

warnings: fluff, enemies to friends (kinda)

a/n: i was watching zoey 101 and this idea popped into my head.

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masterlist

“What’s with the assembly?” Kiara asked as she sat with the pogues sat at the back of the auditorium.

“I heard that someone went missing.” JJ laughed as he leaned over. y/n slapped his chest and pushed him back.

“Shut up, JJ.” she laughed.

“I heard there was a meeting last night and that one of the programs was being cut.” John B informed the group. “I heard it was the drama department.”

“What? No. That’s entirely unfair.” y/n gasped. “If anything, it should be the History program.” she teased, knowing how much John B loved History class.

“Relax guys. I’m sure it’s neither of those.” Kiara smiled and looked through her phone.

The principal got up on the stage and propped the microphone at her level.

“Good morning staff and students. The purpose of today’s assembly is to discuss the problem we’ve been having with the funding.” she looked down at her notes and continued talking. “It has been brought to my attention that we’ve gone overboard on the budget for this years activities and that we need to cancel a program. At last nights school meeting, your teachers and I put our heads together and figured out what program wasn’t getting as much participants as the others, and therefore, has to be cut out of the budget.”

“It’s totally the arts program.” John B smiled and whispered in y/n’s ear. She slapped his arm as he laughed.

“Shut up, John B.”

“Unfortunately, we will be cutting funding for the arts department.” the principal spoke in a sad tone. Tons of people murmured to the people around them. “I know, I know. It’s a very sad decision but not a lot of students here are really all that interested in the department. I was shocked and thought it would’ve been the History department.” she sighed. “I love the arts program and it pains me to have to see it get taken away, but it’s what needs to be done.” she looked out at the sea of students and teachers. “That will be all. You may now return to your classrooms.” she ended the assembly and walked off-stage.

Y/n and Pope returned to their soon-to-be-cut Art class and sat at their stations.

“Man, this blows. Just when I get good at art, they cut the program.” Pope sighed and picked up a brush. Their teacher, Mr Marzello, entered the room and sat down at his desk.

“I was not expecting that to happen.” he moped. “With the cuts, this means that this will be our final week together. I will miss you all.” he looked at all 11 of his students. Pope was undoubtedly the favorite, as he was the most improved, with y/n coming in a close 2nd. “Now, for your assignment, I would like you to do a painting that represents you. You can make it as creative, or plain as you wish. This will be your final assignment and will be due at the end of the week.”

“This really sucks.” Pope set his brush down and looked at the canvas in front of him. It was blank, aside from a blue dot sitting in the middle.

Y/n admired his creativity and looked over at her own canvas. It was a pure white canvas. She couldn’t bring herself to even think about the class, knowing it was going to end. She tapped the brush on the edge as she thought of an idea to save the program. When she got one, she sat up straighter and smiled.

“I know that look.” Pope smiled at his best friend. “You’ve got an idea on how to save the program, don’t you?” As she nodded, both their smiled grew bigger and she told him her idea.

At the end of class, they were the last two to leave, as usual. They approached Mr Marzello’s desk with mischievous looks on their faces. He looked up and was startled.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“We thought of a way we could raise money and save the program.” Pope began.

“And we’re gonna need your help.” y/n finished. She proceeded to tell their teacher everything he needed to hear.

As the final bell for the day rang, Pope and y/n met up with Mr Marzello and they headed into the principal’s office.

“Ms. Nickols, these two lovely students came up with a pretty neat fundraiser idea that may just save the arts programs.”

“What’s the idea?”

“We have a silent auction.”

“What would we be auctioning?” the principal was in the edge of her seat as the three of them explained it all to her.

“We’d be auctioning off a bunch of people. All we gotta do is find anyone who’s willing to be bought.”

“Okay. How would the silent auction work, exactly?”

“Easy.” Pope smiled. “We find the participants, and instead of having their pictures on the forms, we assign them all numbers. People can then bid on whatever number they think they’ll want and when the time is up, we sell the participants. They don’t have to be for dates or anything, either. The winners can use them for whatever.”

“That sounds brilliant. But we’ll need at least two supervisors, myself and someone else, for this event and it’s gonna take some planning.”

“I’m willing to be a supervisor and I know these two are already planning it. Look at them. They’re planning it as we speak.” the two adults looked at the teenagers who were whispering to each other.

“Okay. You got yourselves a deal.” the principal smiled and watched the trio exit her office in the happiest of moods.

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

4 days later, Pope and y/n had set everything up and they smiled at each other as they watched the auditorium fill up with people.

“I almost forgot.” y/n smiled and handed Pope a piece of paper. “I signed you up for this.”

“What a coincidence, because,” he smiled and gave her a number. “I signed you up too.”

“I bet I’ll get more than you.” she stuck her tongue out and continued signing people in.

“In your dreams, darling.” he chuckled.

After the 3 hours was up, Mr Marzello retrieved all the clipboards and handed them to Ms Nickols.

“Welcome to the first ever Kildare County High Silent Auction.” she greeted the crowd and it was met with tons of cheers. “First up, we have Jasmine Vingras.”

The night went on and it felt like it took forever for them to get through all 42 participants. Pope and y/n looked at each other and smiled.

“This was quite a turn out, tonight. I’m so happy that we’ve raised enough money to save the arts program and have enough let over to put away for next year.” Pope smiled.

“Yeah. And we’re the last two participants so we’re gonna get a lot more.” y/n replied with a smile.

“And now, the first of our masterminds behind this auction, #43. Mr Pope Heyward.”

“Good luck, Pope.” y/n smiled as he climbed onto the stage.

“This lovely boy was auctioned for,” Mr Marzello looked down at Pope’s clipboard. “Wow. He was auctioned for $1500 to Ms Carrera.”

Kiara stood up and smiled as he looked at her in shock. he climbed off the stage and walked over to the girl.

“Why’d you spend so much and how’d you know it was me?” he chuckled.

“Because I like you, dummy. And I figured it was you when I heard you and y/n talking to each other at the beginning of the event.” she blushed.

“I’m glad you bought me.” he smiled and they walked to the side of the stage.

“Now, time for the final participant of the evening. Ms y/l/n.” Ms Nickols smiled and the crowd clapped as y/n walked up on stage.

JJ looked at his friends and smirked. “I put a pretty big bid down her sheet. I’m hoping it was enough to get her.

“Ms y/ln was auctioned off for a whopping...” Ms Nickols looked at the clipboard and her eyes widened. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the highest bid ever. The lovely young lady standing on stage with me, earned the school over 10 grand alone. She was auctioned off at a grand total of $15,000 to a Mr....” she squinted and looked at the paper. “Mr Thornton.”

The pogues all looked around the room and when they saw Topper standing and scratching the back of his neck, they were shocked.

Topper Thornton. Enemy to Pogues and Nemesis to y/n herself. This was unbelievable.

tags:

@spilledtee @im-a-stranger-thing @ameeraaa21 @jellyfishbeansontoast @obxmxybxnk @http-cherries @ijustreallylovethem @maggiesrandomness @softstarkey @poguesgold @jjouterbanks

#topper thorton x reader #topper obx #topper thornton #topper x reader

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smartguyreviewed · 4 years

Text

2x6 - Trial and Error

Original air date: Oct 15, 1997

Okay, so we begin this infuriating episode with Floyd coming home and calling out for his biological children. None of them are home. Except for Mo. Mo broke into the house. No, seriously. He broke into the house and started eating somebody’s leftovers. Now in any other case, this would warrant a passionate ass whooping and a call to the parents of this child because what the fuck are you doing so wrong to have your son breaking into houses and not stealing anything except for food? However, this is sitcom world and Floyd just seems more annoyed than anything since Mo is always there anyway.

Mo tells Floyd he needs to be more careful about locking the windows. So linebacker ass Mo really needed to eat and somehow oozed through a window just to get food? Ok, I take back what I said about him needing his ass kicked. Mo is clearly malnourished even though he’s huge. His parents must be poor and therefore can’t afford to feed him. Holy shit was that dark. Moving on.

Food and TJ’s brain are the reasons for his crime. His parents are going to kill him if he brings home another D. This is really helping me build a theory that Mo’s parents are abusive, so let’s assume his parents are literal this time about the kill thing. Floyd then realizes that Mo’s punishment would equal him not being over again to eat up their food and casually break in so he tells Mo that TJ joined the Marines. Nice, Floyd.

Just then, the rest of Floyd’s flock comes in babbling about who got what part in a play. TJ is naturally upset because he wanted a bigger role, still not getting used to the idea that he’s a 10 year old and unless he’s playing the role of a character with dwarfism, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have a huge part. TJ storms off in a huff. Typical TJ things.

The next day, everyone is atwitter over a test from their more over it than Lisa Simpson teacher. This man wants all of his students to fail. He hates his students. He’s a teacher and yet he hates teaching. Maybe this is the wrong profession for you, bruh? And it’s evident his ‘over it’ level is on a million from the way he comes in and tells his class to “get ready to hate me.” The deadpan, dry delivery was funny though.

His first task is to give his students an assignment so hard that even he doesn’t know all the answers. Um, why? If you don’t know the answers, how are you gonna grade the tests? Isn’t this just creating more work for you, someone who already hates his job? Why the fuck does Piedmont hire such bad teachers and faculty, dammit?

Even TJ is intimidated by this test! Mo asks Mr. Bringleman why stuff from another chapter he previously said wouldn’t be on the test is on the test. He simply says he lied. This man is evil. I hated teachers who did that bitch ass shit. Yes, I only studied for what you said was going to be on the test because I have other classes too, ya know. I’m a teenager, not a machine!

I’m just gonna call him Mr. B for the rest of this review because fuck this most likely racist white man. His ass was listening to the boys talking about how hard the test was and then Mo says he wishes he could do to Mr. B what he does to all of them. Mr. B asks if he’s threatening him and Mo stammers. Then Mr. B insults his intelligence by asking if he ever has a complete thought. Before he can even fix his mouth to call him the N word, not Linda Ellerbee shows up to see what’s going on. Oh yeah, and she’s the new principal. She’s the third one so far and this is only the first half of the second season.

Anyways, she needs someone to cover a class and outright forces him to do it. Ha-ha. When the boys laugh at him, Mr. B says he’s going to grade Mo’s test. Nice, I just love seeing teachers bully students.

At the play rehearsal, TJ is still campaigning for a lead role. Mackey has to be the one to humble him, asking for duct tape. Marcus’s play related arc in this episode is pursuing acting seriously in case music doesn’t work out. His part has no lines so he’s trying to act with his face. He can just feel the SAG membership card in his hands.

Just then, Yvette bursts in wearing a Prince-inspired outfit and lets everyone know there was a fire in the chem lab. Dun du--pause. Why the fuck is she telling everyone? Wouldn’t they have had a fire drill? Are there no fire alarms in this blasted school? How the fuck did nobody know about it or smell smoke and why is Yvette bursting in like the town crier in this Purple Rain ass outfit???

All the students are happy until Linda Ellerbee hands Mo his charred playbook and asks him to come into her office. Dun dun dun. Later we find out that Mo was expelled. Because he is an abused child who only feels safe at the Hendersons, Mo has once again broke into their house and begun working out in their garage. Floyd is over it.

TJ comes home and talks to Mo. He is sad to learn that nobody thinks he’s innocent but says that TJ has to believe him because he has the “wide-eyed innocence of a child.” He follows this up with shitty examples of kids trusting adults who end up being assholes. Once they finally get on a good example, TJ is able to see that Mo is innocent and decides to help Mo get back into school.

The next day, TJ is in the principal’s office waiting for Linda Ellerbee. She has mice in her office because Piedmont is the worst public school ever and is resorting to playing the Spice Girls to get them out. Is that supposed to be a diss to the Spice Girls? Fuck anyone who disses the Spice Girls.

Sis is not budging when it comes to letting Mo back in the school. Sounds like a job for TJ’s cuteness and persistence! He gets her to agree to a mock trial where Mo would have to come back to the school. I...whatever. Order in the courtroom!

TJ is Mo’s defense. The opposinjg side calls Marcus to the stand so we already know this will end in disaster. It takes less than a minute for Marcus to admit that Mo threatened Mr. B. Ugh! Stupid Marcus. But he doesn’t even do the worst on the stand. Mo actually manages to fuck it all up! Marcus and TJ are trying to paint Mo out to be, what the kids today would call it, a “punk ass bitch.” Rather than play along and accept it, dumb ass Mo puts his stupid, fragile masculinity ahead of his chance to get back into school and says that he follows through on all threats. Once he realizes his gaffe, he immediately sits his ass down. Yvette is annoyed.

Vice principal Millitch, who will later replace Linda Ellerbee in one of the only sensical things I’ve seen regarding Piedmont, qualifies that Mo’s playbook was found at the scene next to Mr. B’s burnt gradebook. It was nice knowing ya, Mo. We know how the legal system works.

So then the loser teacher gets on the stand and tries to make it seem like he doesn’t intentionally make his students suffer by giving them ridiculously hard tests and lying about what’s even going to be on the test. To him, Mo is just a stupid, violent nigger so of course he’d want to commit a crime instead of studying harder. And then he lays it on thicker by insulting his intelligence again, explaining what the word combust means in the most smug ass, irritating way. It’s fucked up upon re-watch but at least it’s super realistic how predominately black public schools get racist white teachers often. They’re usually there for the tuition reimbursement.

TJ is now realizing that he may not be able to help Mo out of this jam. While eating dinner, Yvette comes in and apologizes for her lateness, saying the trial is over and now the school can continue with the play rehearsals. She tells an adamant TJ that Mr. B, also assuming the trial’s conclusion, was chain smoking cigarettes and humming “Don’t Worry Be Happy.” Floyd is appalled at the latter. TJ’s gears begin shifting. Side note but doesn’t Mr. B just look like a miserable ass teacher who smokes in the classroom?

TJ and Mo break into the school. Geez, so much trespassing in this episode! Mo isn’t even worried about being caught because what are they gonna do, “expel him from college?” Slapstick ensues while TJ collects samples from the gradebook. Mo, on the other hand, is battling a mouse trap. I was super high when I watched this last night but this scene had me in stitches. Omar Gooding is really good with physical comedy. Look, even TJ gets stuck to him when they’re leaving! Priceless!

At court the next morning, TJ calls Mr. B to the stand. He brilliantly examines him and exposes him for smoking in the classroom, which was the actual cause for the fire. This man is fucking evil! He was actually about to get away with very possibly ruining a teenager’s life until a fucking 10 year old stepped in and dug deeper. He could have seriously gotten him disowned by his parents, making him homeless, forcing him to turn to the streets for survival. All because he’s an asshole and didn’t have the heart to own up to what he did. Hell, it’s fucking Piedmont! I’m sure they would have kept him!

Seeing as he just gets sent to Linda’s office, he’s most likely getting a slap on the wrist and paid vacation leave. Oh well. Also frustratingly realistic. At least Mo isn’t expelled anymore. Too bad Mo’s unwashed hands are still sticky when he shakes the principal’s hand and the joke continues.

At the end, Marcus gets bumped up to the illustrious Juror #2. Gotta love a true thespian! Case dismissed. Bring out the dancing lobsters.

Things I noticed:

- Stinky Steve is Mr. B’s defense.

- Piedmont has no respect for their students’ time. The mock trial began at 8am. Assuming that their school day begins at 9am, I bet the play participants probably hate TJ for forcing them to get up an hour earlier than normal, on top of having to do the play after school.

#tj henderson #smart guy #tahj mowry #yvette henderson #essence atkins #john marshall jones #marcus henderson #jason weaver #stinky steve #sister sister #morris tibbs #mo tibbs #omar gooding #floyd henderson

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toothpastecanyon · 4 years

Text

Noie’s Brother, Chapter 21: Rewrite

FINISHED!! Thank you @feferipeixes for betaing this story!

Fate sometimes rhymed, but Alcor felt like this one was a little on the nose. A newborn Mizar fading away in the hospital and a loving father pleading to him from behind a circle of candles.

Fate sometimes rhymed, but Naomi Argenta just wants this stupid vampire to stop harassing her brother. It’s making him go… weird.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Noie had to run. She dashed down the halls, clutching a textbook to her chest and forcing air in and out of her mouth. The door was just to the right - she was nearly there, nearly there, there!

She crashed into the door and staggered into a lecture hall full of people. A few turned to look at her - she reddened at that - but most of them paid no attention.

The professor continued talking, and she slipped past him to take her seat.

“-in microeconomics, it is often observed that the opportunity cost - which is the cost incurred by not choosing the next best option, for those of us who need a reminder - the opportunity cost is often evaluated in terms of…”

Noie reached the back of the class, and slid into place beside an elven woman in fuzzy pyjamas. The woman cracked a smile at Noie as she hurriedly unzipped her backpack.

“Someone likes to be fashionably late.”

“I know, I know.” She took out her magi-orb. “It wasn’t my fault this time, the library printer jammed while I was trying to print out- Oh, what did I miss?”

“Uh, econ stuff?”

“Bea…” Noie stared down at her empty desk. “Why don’t you take notes?”

(And stars, she thought, she sounded just like Dipper there)

“Don’t need ‘em. I know this shit already.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Bea winked at her. “I know lots of things, Silver. You coming to debate club tonight?”

Noie made a face as she opened her textbook. “I don’t know. I don’t think I did very well.”

“I would argue that’s inaccurate.”

“I got yelled at for speaking out of turn.”

“Yeah, and the look on your face was fucking hilarious.” Bea chuckled and nudged her. “Hey, you forgot the rules for a second. Big whoop. You’re new. Come back, alright? I liked your section.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you made good points and all that. And you didn’t talk like a mile a minute, so I could actually hear ‘em, too.”

“Oh.” Noie flashed a smile at her. “Thanks. Uh, I guess I could go back, then?”

“You’re guessing correctly, Silver.” Bea looked at her for a moment. “So… you gonna boot up that magi-orb of yours anytime soon?”

“Huh? Oh, right!”

Noie fiddled around with the base of the orb until she found the button. It was a strange thing, like a crystal ball mounted on top of some hardware. It booted up and instantly went to her notes, which was convenient but… weird, that it knew exactly what she wanted.

Magitech was weird, Noie thought. She didn’t really like it.

______________________________________________________________

Noie lay on her bunk bed, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone as her magi-orb sat open on her lap. The dorm around her was small, but cozy. It was a little messy, with some clothes on the floor and a couple papers strewn around her desk, but clean enough for a college student.

Besides, the clothes weren’t hers. There was laughter and the jangle of keys; Noie cut her eyes towards the door as it opened.

“-did not do that!” A woman burst into the room with raucous laughter. “Hahaha, J, you’re such an asshole! Get outta here! Go! I’ll see you later!”

She then slammed the door, loud. Noie raised her eyebrows.

“Hi, Val.”

“Huh?” Val looked over at her. “Oh, yo, Noie! How’s it going!”

“Uh, pretty good.” She switched off her phone. “Just doing my homework.”

At that, Val chuckled. “You’re always doing your homework, aren’t you?” She took off her jacket and dropped it on the floor. “When do you even have fun, dude?”

“I have fun!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I do!” Noie curled up a bit. “I’ll have you know, I’m the fun twin.”

“Hah! So where’d you go last night, again?”

“...Debate club, but-”

Val cut her off there with a cackling laugh, and Noie scowled. She turned back to her phone.

“No, no, dude,” Val tapped the side of bed, still chuckling. “We’re cool, dude, we’re cool. You do whatever nerdy shit you like, okay? I don’t care. I love it.”

Noie shot her a tight smile, and she snorted.

“Aw, come on, dude, take a joke.” She looked around the room. “Yo, did you clean up in here again? It looks great!”

“Yeah. I did the bathroom, too.”

“Man, that is awesome! You’re awesome! See,” Val reached over and nudged her shoulder. “this is why I like you! I don’t have to worry about anything when I’m here!”

“That’s-”

“Oh, was gonna tell ya! I’m not gonna be here over the weekend - I’m going over to Joss’s.” She grinned at Noie. “He’s gonna throw, like, the best halloween party - dude, I can’t wait. It’s gonna be lit.”

“That sounds cool. What costume are you wearing?”

Val only sniggered in response. Noie looked over at her.

“What?”

“Nothing, dude, nothing. Oh my stars, you’re precious, did you know that? I love you.”

“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you’ll understand when you’re older.”

“We’re… the same age? What do you mean?”

Val just shook her head and took her phone out. She disappeared under the bottom bunk, and Noie rolled her eyes.

“Oh-kay. Good chat. Whatever.” She stared at her phone for a few seconds, then kicked off her covers. “I’m going outside.”

“Mhm… What did you say?”

Noie stalked across the room and out into the hall, fist balled around her phone as she brought up Dipper’s number.

Outside, she called him up. Her phone rang once, twice, and then put his face on screen.

Dipper’s face. She just got a look at his fuzzy beard before he adjusted the camera. He was lying on the floor, surrounded by papers, and he shot her a crooked smile.

“Hey, Noie! Just doing homework, what’s up?”

“Oh my stars I am turning into you.”

“What?”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Noie laughed it off nervously. “Heyyy, Dipper! Dipperino. How you doing, bro?”

“Pretty good!” He looked down at his papers, and shrugged. “Just, uh… just doing homework. What’s up with you?”

“You know what people do at a Halloween party?”

“A Halloween party? Uh… dress up, I g-”

“Yeah! So I’m not crazy!” Noie paced underneath a tree. “That’s what I told my roommate, but she seemed to think I was being stupid about it or something!”

“Oh, that-”

“And she still acts like I’m her maid or something! What’s up with that? I got 24 hours in my day just like her; why do I have to spend my time cleaning up our room while she goes partying!”

Dipper made a face. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Noie. That really sucks.”

“Ugh. Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Roommates.”

“Heh, yeah.”

“What, you got roommate troubles like me?”

“Oh, no, I just - I was just sympathising. Roy’s cool!” Dipper gave a thumbs up to someone offscreen, then smiled back at her. “We made a chore wheel.”

Noie slumped against the tree. “Oh, I wish Val would agree to a chore wheel. I even made one up for her and hung it on the wall, but she didn’t even notice it!”

“Did you… tell her it was there?”

“No, but she’s gone all the time, I never remember to talk to her when she’s there.” Noie’s frown deepened. “Besides, why’s that even my responsibility? She’s an adult, just like me! She should know how to do her stupid chores by now; I shouldn’t have to tell her to do it!”

“Yeah…” Dipper made a face. “Yeah. What are you gonna do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe you could talk to an RA, or-”

“Ugh, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to blow it into a massive thing - I mean, it’s fine! I’ll survive.” She shrugged at him. “I dunno. Am I being a downer? I’ll stop being a downer now.”

“No, no, you don’t have to-”

“So, how’s the week been treating you, bro?” Noie crossed her legs and leaned forwards. “Is it just more of the homeworks for you, or…?”

“No, no, actually, I went to, uh, spellcasting club, actually!” Before she could open her mouth, he added: “Online. They stream it, and you can join the stream. And I-I wasn’t participating - obviously - but it was cool.” He grinned, and his eyes twinkled with excitement. “Really cool. And the teacher stayed later, and we had this whole conversation about enchantments… you’re probably not interested in the details, but it was really fascinating!”

Noie beamed at him “Aww, yeah! That sounds so cool, bro! I’m so glad you got to do that.”

“Yeah!” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And, uh, I don’t have class Wednesday, so I went back and visited Grandpa.”

“How’s he!”

“Doing okay! Doing okay… He says he misses you.”

“Hah! Good one.”

She laughed at that, but Dipper didn’t join in. “No, seriously,” he said. “He was talking about how he can’t wait to see us all back together on Christmas.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dipper’s voice lowered. “I… I think he’s kinda lonely in the house, Noie. You know… ever since Grandma…”

He trailed off there, and she looked away. She stared at a little patch of grass off to the right, and it was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the rustle of the wind.

“Yeah…” Noie felt herself say. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I bet he… is.”

There was a noise on Dipper’s end as a door opened and closed. He sighed. “Yeah.”

There was a pause, as he seemed to think over his next words. Then:

“Have you thought about… giving him a call this week?”

Noie made a face. “Yeah, I should… I should do that.”

“You don’t have to, but he’d like that, I think.”

“No, no, I should. You’re right, I should.” She shrugged. “I just, I dunno… I don’t know what to say, I guess?”

“That’s understandable. Maybe just something like hi, how are you doing? Then go from there. It doesn’t have to be long.”

“Yeah… you’re right. You’re right, I’ll do that.” She looked back at him, and managed a smile. “Thanks, Dipper. I love you.”

“I love you too, Noie.”

She beamed at that. “Man, I just wanna hug you right now! Why aren’t there video hugs? Someone needs to get on that!”

“Heh, that would be cool.”

“And I just wanna poke your cute little beard, too. I love it.”

Dipper’s hand went to his chin. “Cute? I mean, thanks, but I don’t think cute is the right-”

“It’s soooo cuuute and soooo little-”

“Okay, ha ha. You’re very funny.”

“And you’re a big dork.” She snickered at him. “It looks great, bro. I’m just teasing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“It doesn’t look too thin, or-”

“Nope! It looks great on you, seriously.”

“Oh… thanks!” He stroked it, and grinned. “Thanks, Noie!”

“Anytime.” She watched as he shuffled through some papers. “Welp, I won’t keep you. Have a good day, Dipper!”

“Thanks, you too! See you on Friday!”

“See you on Friday,” Noie said, and the video feed shut off with a beep. She stared down at her phone, and found herself still smiling.

It was good to talk to Dipper, she thought. Things never felt as bad after one of their chats.

She didn’t go back to her dorm right away. She turned her phone off, and just sat on the grass for a little while.

It was peaceful. It was nice.

______________________________________________________________

>im at the parking lot. wheres this place again?

>Down the main street where all the shops are on the right, you’ve probs passed it before. It’s got a black sign that says ‘Tree’s Teas’

>If we see you pass by we’ll all scream for you. You won’t miss us ;)

Noie made a face at that last text from Bea as she walked down the street. Hopefully she wouldn’t miss this place.

“Alright,” she said, and looked up at the signs. “Tree’s Teas, Tree’s Teas. Where are you?”

She passed by sign after sign, glanced in window after window. It was a hot day; there weren’t very many people out on the streets, and she could feel the sun beating down on her hair.

Why they were going for tea on a day like this, Noie had no idea, but she still felt her heart skip a beat as she caught sight of the sign.

They were going to tea. They.

Noie took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bea’s voice came with a rush of cool air. She was sitting by a group of other students, waving her over. “Ey, Silver! You found us!”

She laughed nervously. “I, uh, found you! Hi Bea, hi…”

She recognised a few faces from debate club, but not their names. The others were even more of a mystery - thank the stars Bea immediately launched into an introduction.

“You know Gus and Meena from Tuesday. And, ah-” She pointed a finger at the other three. “That’s Sara, Mako, and, uh - what’s your name? Heh, just kidding, dude - he’s Jess.”

Noie tried for a wave. “Hi. I’m… Noie. Nice to meet you?”

“Yo, Noie.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

“Hi!”

Smiles and greetings filtered in, and she allowed herself a smile. Maybe this would be fun.

“Cool! Nice to, uh… So, I just get a drink, and we study together?” Noie looked over at the menu; there were a staggering number of options there. “Jeez, these guys are serious about their tea, huh? Think they’ll kick me out if I order a soda?”

Bea snorted. “Blasphemy, Silver. No, you gotta order a tea! They’re really good here!”

“Alright… which one should I do?”

“Dude, you should get the macha!” One guy - was he Gus? - held up his drink. “It’s my favourite!”

“Or you should try the chai!”

“Or apple cinnamon!”

Noie made a face. “Thanks? I guess I’ll, uh, pick one of those.”

“Or I could go up there with you?” One of them, a woman with bright purple hair, looked up. She spoke quietly. “I, um, I work here, actually, so I could walk you through it…”

“Oh, that sounds great.” Noie smiled at her. “Sara, right?”

“Yeah.” She got up from her magi-orb. “Alright. And I can give you my, my employee discount, too.”

“Oh, sweet! Thanks!”

Bea waved at them as they went over to wait in line. There was an awkward silence as they stood there, just a little too far away from the group and not entirely sure what to say to one another.

Noie cleared her throat. “So,” she started. “You like… tea?”

“Yeah…” Sara nodded. “I get a free cup every shift.”

“Oh. Sweet. That’s… fan-tea-ast… uh…”

“What?”

“Bad pun, sorry. Butchered that.”

“Oh…”

They moved forward in line. Noie glanced her way, and then scuffed her foot on the tile. Oh, stars, she shouldn’t have tried a pun. Now this lady probably thought she was a weirdo.

“Hey,” Sara looked over at her. “Were you from Diamondback High?”

At that, Noie frowned. “Yeah? Why?”

“I went there too!”

“What?”

“Yeah, I remember you from my history class senior year.” She smiled at Noie. “You have a brother, right?”

“Yeah, Dipper! He’s going to SASU, he’s my twin.”

“Ohmystarsyouretwins.”

“What, you didn’t know?”

“No! I- well, duh, you guys were in the same year, I should’ve figured it out.” She smacked her head, and Noie chuckled. “I’m dumb, ignore me.”

“No, no, it’s cool.” She picked at her shirt. “Seriously, we were in the same history class?”

“Yeah! You don’t recognise me?”

“I… uh-”

“I get it, don’t worry about it.” She ran a hand through her purple hair. “I didn’t have this until I went to college. Trust me, I look pretty generic without it.”

“No, your face looks really nice!” Noie blinked. “I mean - sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird-”

“You’re fine. You’re fine. Thank you, Noie.” Sara grinned at her. “You know, I, uh, always wanted to talk to you. Back in highschool.”

“Really? Why?”

“I dunno, you guys - you and Dipper - you seemed like really cool people. To me.” A little red was sneaking into her face. “I dunno, you guys just seemed like you were always having fun with each other, and… I dunno. I dunno, it seemed cool.”

Noie stared at her for a moment before cracking a smile. “Aw. You should’ve.”

“Yeah, I should’ve! I, uh… I dunno. I’m kind of… bad with people. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise!” She hesitated, and then bumped Sara’s shoulder. “No time like the present, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah! Nice to meet you, Noie.”

“Nice to meet you too…”

“Sara.”

“Sara, sorry. Bad with names.”

“No, it’s totally okay-”

“Hi! Are you ready to order?”

Noie and Sara stared at the cashier waving them forwards, and then blinked at each other.

“Oh… oh!” Noie turned to the person standing behind them. “Why don’t you go ahead of us? I still need to decide.”

After a moment, Noie ordered her tea, and sat back down among the group. It was a little new, a little awkward to sit with so many people… but the longer she sat there, the more she was aware of a great big beaming grin on her face. It was nice to be here - really nice.

She sat back, and sipped her tea, and let the hours slip by.

______________________________________________________________

11:47. Dammit, she should be at class by now.

“Come on, submit!” Noie stabbed a finger at her magi-orb. “Submit! Submit, you stupid thing!”

It kept loading. She huffed and stomped her feet into her shoes.

“Come on, come on… wait, no internet? Seriously?!” Noie tapped aggressively at the white error message that popped up. “No! No, you can’t do this to me! What happened? Did the internet go down? Arghhh, I don’t have time for this!”

She paced around the room for a second, hands on her temples. She had to submit her slideshow - the presentation was in ten minutes! Why did she always do this to herself?!

“I gotta… I gotta fix this.” Noie clicked to troubleshoot her wifi problems, hesitated, then opened her desk. She hadn’t cleaned it out since highschool - maybe she had a USB in here or something?

Stars, she hoped she did. She rifled through random papers and pieces of old homework, growing increasingly desperate as the minutes ticked by too fast and oh fuck it was 11:50 now she was definitely going to be late-

“Oh!” Noie happened upon something small and grey and rectangular - a USB! “Oh, yes! Thank you thank you thank you!”

She kissed it and then plugged it into her magi-orb. After pulling up her files, she copied her slideshow and went over to paste it into the USB’s drive-

And there, she paused. Frowned.

“Huh?” She moused over a file titled ‘For_Naomi.mov’. “It’s… for me? What is this?”

She had never seen this before in her life… or had she? The longer she stared at it, the more something came back to her; an awful feeling of déjà vu flooded through her like ice in her veins, and she felt her heart beat faster. She felt her head begin to pound behind her eyes. She stared longer, and she almost saw flashes of something, someone, a dark figure looming over her, digging its claws into her stomach and ripping out-

Noie staggered back, panting hard. She was shaking all over.

“What the…? The fuck?” Noie felt her stomach, then looked back up at the screen. “What the fuck?”

Nothing answered her. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner. She gulped down air, and tried to steady her heartbeat.

She shuffled forwards. “Well… that was…” she tapped the screen to minimise the file. “That was… something. Okay. Oh-kay.”

Her head had stopped hurting, but everything still felt strange. She stood over the magi-orb, just breathing for a moment. In, and out. In, and out.

In, and her eye was drawn to the clock. 11:53. She let it out in a sigh.

“I’m gonna be so late.”

Noie glanced down at the USB, and grimaced at the way it set her brain tingling - it was like pins and needles inside her skull. Whatever was on it, whatever that file was…

She’d deal with it later.

The presentation was twenty percent of her grade, and the internet hadn’t come back, and this still seemed like a perfectly fine USB, so she took a deep, shuddering breath and decided to brush over this for now.

She copied her slide onto the drive, rubbing her head and trying not to look at the file with her name on it.

This was fine, she thought. Everything was fine.

Her head hurt when she wondered what was on it, so she tried not to think too hard about that. She thought about getting her keys and getting her bag and getting out the door. On the way to her class, Noie rehearsed her lines, pointedly ignoring the weight in her pocket.

There was a flash of something as Noie tiptoed into the back of class. It was cold in here, but she was sweating. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible… had happened? Was happening?

She stared through every presenter, tapping the desk with the USB. The weight of it, the slight curve to it that fit around her thumb-

picking it up from the ground gripping it shouting where’d he go WHERE’D HE GO-

“Naomi Argenta?”

Noie stiffened. The man who called her name had wings and a suit and glowing yellow eyes- then he was just her professor.

“Do you have your presentation?”

“P… presentation?” Noie nodded, stiffly. “Yes. Yes, I-I have it. I just need to plug it… in.”

“Alright. You’re next.”

tore apart the angel horrible screams looking at her like YOU’RE NEXT-

The presentation was… awkward. Noie liked to think she was an okay public speaker - she didn’t need to rehearse something a million times to sound natural. That day, though, she really wished she had a script to fall back on; she stumbled through her words, talking fast, breathing fast, gripping the microphone with white knuckles and trying to think past the pain behind her eyes and the flashes in her vision-

“A-and there was, there was this presi-, uh, president, Ch-Chancellor-”

A voice in her ear, a laugh, “a very pro-nat President you guys elected a hundred years or so back-”

She got through it, and was met by scattered applause. Class was nearly over. She took the USB, and sat back down at her desk.

desk and looking over at dipper knowing what he is KNOWING WHAT HE IS-

What was going on? What was happening to her? She groaned into her hands, acutely aware of the heads she was turning right now; just a little longer, then she’d be able to go back to her dorm. Just a little longer, then she’d be able to sort this out.

...Stars, she hoped Val wouldn’t be there.

The pain behind her eyes just kept pounding away at her, and it felt like eons before this class was finally dismissed. As soon as she heard chairs moving, Noie stumbled out of her seat and started off on the walk across campus.

It usually wasn’t that bad of a walk, but today it seemed to drag on. Time seemed to stretch, and suddenly each footstep

felt like

eternity.

Leon’s eyes. They closed, and accepted their fate.

I want you to know that I don’t regret a thing.

A man’s voice echoed from the pain behind her eyes, and Noie staggered into her dorm room. Her eyes went right to Val’s bed; when they saw it empty, they fixed on the magi-orb.

Slowly, almost reverently, Noie took the USB out of her pocket. She was going to find out what was on it

and why there was a part of her that already knew.

She closed the door. Locked the door. Walked to the magi-orb, and sat herself down before it.

Breathed. In, and out.

Plugged the USB into the base. Saw her name once again - ‘For_Naomi.mov’.

Clicked on it

and watched

and felt the pressure behind her eyes suddenly pop and-

Oh. Oh.

Oh, no.

______________________________________________________________

It was dark in Noie’s dorm. The lights were off - had been off all through the night - and the early morning sun glowed against the blinds.

Noie was there. Lying in bed, on top of her covers. Her phone screen illuminated the deep bags under her eyes, the creases on her forehead, the sheen of sweat that had collected in her hairline.

She hadn’t slept all night. How could she? If she closed her eyes, she’d start thinking, and if she started thinking, she’d think about her brother and how he was Alcor the Dreambender and how it felt to have his claws dig into her belly and-

Noie felt her whole body shiver. She shifted in bed a bit, and stared down at her phone.

No. No, she wasn’t going to think about that. It didn’t seem real.

Maybe it wasn’t real.

Maybe this was all, like, a really intense dream she’d had. All that stuff with the angel and the vampire and… him, that wasn’t her life! That wasn’t the kind of person she was! It wasn’t!

Noie could see her hands. Her palms were sweaty - in the darkness, the shine looked a little like blood.

She gulped. It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

She didn’t stab him.

______________________________________________________________

Noie woke to the sound of her phone ringing. She groaned; her head felt awful, and when she moved a hand to cover her face she felt the weight of her phone - she’d gone to sleep with it in her hands.

Why’d she do that? And why was it… night outside? She sat up, and looked down at her phone.

Dipper Argenta was calling her.

She saw his face, and everything came back to her like a kick in the teeth - oh, god. The phone rang again, and she flinched and tossed it to the ground.

It sat there, ringing, ringing, ringing. Noie curled up tight and plugged her ears with shaking hands.

Ringing.

…

Silence.

She sniffed, and opened her eyes. Her phone was lying still on the carpet; she stared at it for a second, and then shuffled out of bed to pick it up.

Her stomach growled as she got to her feet. Her legs felt weak. She knelt down, and picked up her phone, tapped the screen, squinted as it turned on.

6:23

Friday, October 29

Dipper Argenta - Missed call

Noie sighed. Of course… she was supposed to call him today. What the fuck was she supposed to do about that?

The phone rang again. Noie jerked back and banged her elbow on the edge of her desk.

“Ow! Fuck!” She jerked it back, and glared at the phone. “Argh, Dipper, you… you demon.”

It felt weird to say it out loud. The phone kept ringing, ringing, ringing, and she opened her mouth.

“You… You…” She stared at his dorky profile picture, the one they’d taken on a trip to the Grand Canyon last year.

She stared at the gentle grin on his face, the way his hand came up to stroke his patchy stubble. And to think, all this time, buried underneath that, underneath him…

“Y-” she tried, but her throat had gone tight. The words wouldn’t come. Her phone finally stopped ringing, and her brother's smiling face faded to black.

Noie took a deep, shuddering breath, and turned off her phone.

______________________________________________________________

Maybe this wasn’t that big a deal.

It was three in the morning on a Saturday, and Noie was wondering if, you know, maybe it wasn’t the end of the world if her brother was a meaty shell formed around a bloodthirsty demon. He was still a demon, yeah, but as long as the demony bits like the wings and the claws and the urge to kill stayed locked away, you’d never be able to tell!

So in a way, nothing had changed, right? Just don’t bring up the demon thing, and it could still be normal between them.

Noie stared up at the ceiling. She stared up at the moment she slit her brother’s throat, at the terror shining in his eyes, the terror of her. She stared until she couldn’t anymore, and pressed her hands to her face.

Stars, she never wanted to see that again as long as she lived. If she could get things even halfway normal after that, well…

Well, she didn’t know.

…

She didn’t know what she wanted to do.

______________________________________________________________

Noie didn’t know what time it was. She didn’t know what day it was. But sometime late at night on her magi-orb, she heard keys jangle outside her dorm. Her heart caught in her throat as the handle turned; for a moment, she imagined she’d see Dipper on the other end, see his golden eyes glowing in the darkness, see-

See her roommate Val peek her head in, then raise her eyebrows as she caught sight of her.

“Wow, you still awake?” Val cracked a smile. “Lemme guess: some kinda homework shit. Am I right or am I right?”

Noie tried to form words, but they caught in her throat. She just stared as Val shut the door.

“You not gonna say anything?” A pause. Val’s chuckles died off. “No? You, uh… you alright there, dude? Noie?”

She just shook her head. A sob came out of her, and suddenly the lights came on.

“Whoa, whoa!” Val stood on the ladder, her bewildered expression looming over Noie. “What’s the matter, dude? What are you doing? Why are you surrounded by… soup cans? And- are those dry noodles? What the fuck?”

Noie tried to cover them with a blanket. “I-it’s fine… Val, d-don’t-”

“Uh, no it isn’t? You look like you haven’t slept all weekend, dude.”

“I-”

“And your hair. Eugh. When’s the last time you showered, ‘cause it’s officially been too long.”

Noie clenched her fists. “I-it’s fine, Val. Leave me alone.”

“Oh, come on. I’m only trying to help.”

“Leave me alone!” She snapped, and watched Val flinch away. She sighed. “Sorry. Look, it’s just… it’s just complicated, okay? Thank you for the offer, but it’s just… you can’t help, so just leave me alone. Please.” She turned back to her magi-orb. “Let me figure this out.”

There was a moment of silence as she tapped away at the screen. Val shuffled her feet, then cleared her throat.

“Okay.” She said. Then: “You wanna smoke?”

“What?”

“I just got a pack, if you wanna-”

“No! Just leave me alone!”

Val put up her arms. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to be rude about it. Sheesh.” She then turned off the lights. “Well, I’m going to sleep. Good luck with your issues, dude.”

She got into her own bed, and Noie sat there in silence. She looked at her magi-orb; there were several articles it had automatically pulled up on demons, and she’d been reading through them before Val came in. As she stared, another one popped up: ‘Fight with your roommate? Browse over 50+ listings in your area with roam4homes.com’

Noie turned it off in disgust. Stupid magi-orb - what was she even doing up this late?

…She had a class in the morning, didn’t she. What was it, Tuesday now? Ugh, yeah, there was no way she was going to that. She felt awful; her head was pounding, and her hands were trembling, and her hair felt dirty and there were little shards of hard pasta in her bed and she was still kinda hungry…

Noie put her face in her hands. This was… she couldn’t go on like this. She was going to fail college. She needed to, to talk to Dipper, maybe, or maybe not… well, she needed to come to a decision about whether she was going to talk to Dipper or not. She needed to do something to resolve this… but what?

She sighed, deeply, then dragged a hand down her face. She looked over at her phone, picked it up, and just held it in her hands. She hadn’t turned it on since Friday; there were bound to be a lot of missed calls on there.

Yep, it was probably going to make her feel awful.

Yep…

…

Her stomach growled. She hesitated, and then sat up in bed.

Maybe she should get something to eat first.

______________________________________________________________

“Here’s your order, ma’am. One crispy fried fish taco and a medium soda.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Thank you for stopping by, have a good night.”

“You too, dude!”

Noie stopped for a minute to smell her order before placing it on the seat next to her and driving off. It smelled nice and warm and fishy; Bea said it made her car stink - and yeah, maybe it was a little strong - but she couldn’t see why it smelled bad. It brought her back to drive-through dinners, her grandfather piling everyone into the car and setting out on the road. They used to do them a lot after Allie stopped cooking… it was fun, back then, sitting in a car with her family all around her. It was comforting, and right now, a little comfort sounded good.

Noie parked her car under a streetlight in a near-empty parking lot. She took a deep breath, and let it out. She looked at her phone, which sat still turned off in a cupholder.

She took a bite of her taco, chewed a little… and then turned it on. It booted slowly; the silence hung for a few, awful moments, before it came to life.

The first thing she saw was the time: it was 3:30 in the morning. Then there were her missed calls. She had twenty. Her texts were filled up, too - one of them was from Bea asking to hang out, but the rest were all Dipper:

Sent last Friday at 6:31pm

>You there?

>Today is our weekly meeting, btw. That’s why I’m calling.

Sent last Friday at 6:40pm

>Let me know when you want to reschedule!

Sent last Saturday at 8:06pm

>Are you okay?

Sent last Saturday at 9:17pm

>If you’re busy with homework or something that’s fine. Just text me when you get this.

Sent last Sunday at 11:57pm

>Please call me, Noie.

Oh… whoops. Noie could feel herself cringing into her seat as she scrolled through his messages. Yep, that was… expected. He was probably worried sick by now, and at that she gave a dry smile.

Her brother, Alcor the Dreambender, was worried sick about her. Stars, but it was true, wasn’t it? He used to get worried if she got home from work too late; she only could imagine how frantic he’d be after getting ghosted for a whole weekend.

Noie had no idea what she was going to do with him, but the pang in her stomach made her type out a short reply:

Sent last Tuesday at 3:37pm

>Still alive. Sorry.

She sent it off, and took another bite of her taco. Now he was probably going to call her in the morning. What she was going to say to that, she had no-

Bzzzing!

Noie jumped. “Aaah!” She yelped and glanced down at her phone. Dipper was calling. “Seriously? You’re calling me now? It’s three in the- ugh.”

She hit the ignore button, hesitated, then went over to her messages. She could already see Dipper typing something up, so she rolled her eyes and sent a text.

>go to bed, ding dong. well talk in the morning ok?

Dipper’s typing paused for a second, and then continued. She snorted a little at that, then brushed some taco crumbs off of her pyjamas.

His replies popped up in rapid succession:

>Are you okay?

>What happened Friday?

>Also you should go to bed too, it’s 3 in the morning. Don’t you have French at 10 tomorrow?

Despite everything, Noie found herself smiling at his texts. This was so, so... Dipper of him. This was the brother she knew, not Alcor, not some kind of demon.

She made a face.

Even though… that wasn’t true, was it. Because. Dipper was a demon. The brother she knew had always been a demon.

It’s still me. This is still… me.

Always. She just… hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known, hadn’t wanted to know-

“Noie?” She watches him stagger back, fall against the binding circle. “Y-your eyes… what’s going on?!”

-let people tell her who she wanted him to be, and then…

her hands on the knife across his throat. her hands feeling the tug of parting skin. her hands covered in warm, golden blood, her hands, her hands, HER HANDS-

Noie didn’t realise she was crying until she felt a sob rip through her body. She’d dropped her phone; with shaking hands and blurry eyes, she fished it out of her lap and turned it on.

There was another text from Dipper.

Sent last Tuesday at 3:45pm

>Just call me after that class, okay? Love you, hope everything’s okay. Sleep well <3

Noie stared down at that text, sniffed, and then smiled. It didn’t last long, though; she thought about what she had to do in the morning, and sobbed into her steering wheel.

It was a while before she could bring herself to drive home.

______________________________________________________________

Val had left. The door was locked. Her phone was fully charged, and open on Dipper’s phone number. Noie had even dressed herself for the occasion; she passed some time just looking through her t-shirts, waiting for things to feel right.

Eventually, she sat down at her desk, took in a deep breath, and let it out. There was nothing left to delay this with anymore… but for a moment, she stared at the wood grain on her desk, at the morning sun shining in and putting a soft glow on her carpet.

It had been a weird night. She’d cried a lot. Questioned life. Wondered what the fuck she was going to tell Dipper. Came to a decision, thought it was a terrible idea, talked herself out of it… and then talked herself back into it after every other solution seemed to work out worse.

After all that, she finally felt… not calm, but quiet inside, if that made sense. There was an uneasy stillness in her mind, a lull in her thoughts; it was like she’d worried so much about this conversation that she’d exhausted her ability to worry at all. At this point, whatever happened, happened.

All she needed to do was get this over with, so Noie looked back down at her phone, pressed the call button, and waited.

It rang once.

Then it picked up.

“Noie!”

Dipper. Noie grit her teeth at his face. “Hey,” she said, and then nothing more. Dipper hesitated a moment before replying.

“Uh, hi! Hi!” There was relief in his voice. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you! I couldn’t reach you all weekend - I-I thought maybe you’d lost your phone, I didn’t want to freak out Grandpa so I just- I- what happened?” He stared at her unsmiling face. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s…” Noie tried for a smile. “Um, it’s nice to see you.”

He frowned. “It’s nice to see you too? Also, it’s ten fifteen - aren’t you supposed to be at French? You didn’t have to-”

“Are you alone?”

“What?” He looked around his room. “Uh, I think Roy’s at class for the next hour. Why?”

Noie just stared at her brother’s face. She knew it so well; she knew those worried creases in his forehead, that slight tilt of his head as he leaned in closer. A part of her wanted it to stay like this forever - wanted it to stay normal. Human.

“Why? Noie?”

But it couldn’t. She knew that now.

“What’s going on?”

She took another deep breath, and let it out. Didn’t look him in the eyes; she trained them on his chin, and opened her mouth. “Dipper,” she said, slowly, deliberately. “I have to tell you something.”

“What? What is it?”

He was leaning in very close, now. Her eyes slid down to her desk. “I have to tell you… you need to remember. The deal, it’s broken, you need to remember now.”

“Remember? What do you-”

“You’re a demon, remember you’re a demon!” Noie’s head shot up; she stared him down. “Dipper, I remember who you are, you’re Alcor the Dreambender and I need to talk to him- I mean you. I need to talk to the whole you.”

“Wh- what? Argh!” Dipper clutched his head. “I- what are you talking about, Noie? I’m not a- ugh… I’m, I’m not a-”

“Yes you are! You’re Alcor, you took a human form so you could grow up with me. We made a deal so we’d forget but I remember and you have to too, okay!”

Dipper had crumpled out of frame; she could only see the top of his head. “Noie…” he moaned. “I don’t… it’s not… what’s… what’s happ̗͘e͎̭͈̭̗ni̲̫̖̜̬n̫͉g?”

“Please remember, Dipper.” Noie felt a pang of guilt at the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry it hurts. I didn’t want to do this, but it’s the truth, okay? You’re… you’re a demon.”

He wasn’t speaking anymore; she only heard a whimper in reply. There was a wet pop, and then another, and then a tearing sound that made her squirm in her seat.

“Dipper?” She watched as the last bit of his head fell out of frame. “How’re you, uh, taking this? Everything okay?”

Something bumped against the desk. Other than that, it was dead silent. All she could see was the chore wheel at the far end of his dorm; she stared at it, and waited for him.

Waited, until she heard a low, distorted growl. The sound of someone swearing under his breath; a hand coming into frame as it gripped the desk, a tall, suited figure rising up, and locking glowing golden eyes on her.

Alcor the Dreambender.

Noie thought she’d gone past worrying, but she saw him and suddenly she was trembling all over. Her stomach flipped and made her feel sick; it was something about those teeth, those claws, those wings flaring out behind him, those eyes staring her down as he dug inside her and ripped and tore-

“Mizar.” Those eyes; she watched them narrow slightly, then widen. “Naomi.”

Noie forced a laugh. “That’s… that’s me. Hi. F-fancy meeting you here, huh? Ha! Haha! Jokes. I’m funny!”

“N-”

“That was an entrance, huh? Ent-er-ance. En-trance. Enterancé! That’s Spanish for, uh, nothing, I just said it in a, in an accent.” She felt herself leaning back as he opened his mouth. “I-it’s actually, uh, entrada, la entrada, th-that’s Spanish for entrance, s-s-so th-that’s-”

“Naomi.”

Noie stopped talking. She could feel her heart beating in her throat. She closed her mouth and sat there, staring at him. He started to speak, then stopped, sighed, and shook his head.

“This… hold on a moment. Stand back.”

Noie heard that. It took a second to register, but he reached towards the camera and she backed up to the end of the room. She didn’t know what he was doing at first, but then she saw his hand come out through her phone screen; his head appeared, and then his torso, and then he stepped off of her desk and dusted himself off.

“That’s better… Naomi?” His expression fell as he looked at her. “Look, this is… weird, I know. I’m sorry you remembered, that wasn’t meant to happen. What set it off?”

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. After a moment, Alcor nodded to himself.

“The USB.” He picked it up from her desk. “Of course - why didn’t I think of hiding that? Ugh, that’s dumb. I’m sorry.”

Noie swallowed. “I-it’s okay, Dipper-”

“It’s no̕t͟. I made a deal, I promised you wouldn’t have to worry about this anymore, but I… I rushed it.”

She watched his hands ball into fists.

“I just wanted to get away from it all as fast as possible… just like I did with Leon. Just like it! Argh, why can’t I just ge̴̶t į͝ţ t͞h̷ro̵u̵͞g͏͡h̸̸̡ m̢y̨͝ ḩ͢ę̵̡a̡d̵ ͏͝th̸͢a̕t̴̨-” He stopped, and glanced her way. When he saw her flattened against the wall, the echo dropped from his voice. “Sorry. It’s fine… I’m fine, Naomi. I’m not gonna do anything.”

He seemed to think for a moment. In the silence, Noie peeled herself off the wall.

“It’s just…” Alcor started, and then sighed. He straightened. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do it right this time, Noie, I promise.”

Slowly, he extended a hand. Noie stared at the tips of his claws, then followed his arm up to his face. The demon - her brother’s expression was carefully blank, and the black-and-gold stare he fixed her with still sent shivers down her spine. He’d shaved, she noticed.

“Dipper?”

There seemed so little of her brother to recognise, but…

“Just take my hand, Noie. I’ll put it all back to normal, okay? Like you want.”

“Normal.” Noie gave a wry smile. “That’s what I always wanted, isn’t it.”

Alcor tried for a laugh - it was awkward, familiar. “Heh, uh… don’t worry about it. I… I get it, you know? This is a lot. I’m a lot.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “It’s… okay, if you don’t want to deal with it.”

She recognised that tone. She recognised it from fights they’d gotten into, when she’d said something hurtful and Dipper went quiet. She recognised the pang in her chest.

Noie stepped forwards. “Dipper, I-”

“And it’s not like I don’t deserve it.” He was talking faster now, hugging himself. “After everything I did to you, a-and your family, it’s no wonder you don’t want me around like this! I killed your dad! I ruined your life! I was horrible and demonic and a monster and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, I-” Dipper blinked. “Wait, what?”

He was staring at her now, golden eyes wide in astonishment. Noie took a deep breath, and clenched her shaking hands.

“I wanted to say… I’m sorry, Dipper.”

“Why are you sorry? I-”

“Let me talk, okay? Because I’ve been thinking on this, and I owe you an apology. I owe you an apology, Dipper.”

He frowned, but he didn’t speak. Noie grit her teeth.

“It took me a long time to realise I did. It took me all of last week, I barely slept, I ate-” she gestured to her bed, “dry pasta at three AM while I was looking up stories about you, I… well the point is, I know what I did wrong now. I know I didn’t treat you right, bro. And I’m sorry.”

Dipper just looked bewildered. “You think you didn’t treat me right? I ki-”

“I know you killed Leon!” She snapped. “I know, okay? And I’m not saying you didn’t do bad shit, I’m saying we both did bad shit! We both… hurt people, you know?” She shook her head. “I hurt your friend, Lucy Ann. And I hurt y-you.”

Her voice cracked a little. She stood there, looking down at the carpet, trying to get it back under control. Dipper’s eyes were boring into her head.

“I-I sold you out, bro.” Noie managed. “You and your friend, I sold you out to some pro-nat angel because I thought he could fix you.”

“Oh, Noie, I never blamed you. You were possessed, you-”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t possessed. Maybe at the last moment it was the angel who stabbed you, but everything that led up to that? That was me.” A crooked smile, a mirthless laugh. “That was… me. And you wanna know why I did that? I was scared of losing you.”

“That’s unders-”

“I was scared of losing my grip on you. Things were bad, back with Grandpa, okay! Everything with Granny a-and school, everything felt like it was spinning out of control, but you were… you didn’t change up on me. You were always there for me - it was supposed to be the two of us looking out for each other, you know? Not one of us turning into some all powerful demon who… who didn’t need me anymore!”

“No! I need you, Noie!”

“Don’t say that.” Noie stabbed a finger at him. “Don’t say that, Dipper. You don’t need me.”

“I do, I-”

“You don’t need me.” She backed away, shaking her head. “Not in the way I wanted you to need me. Because I needed you to stay human and I slit your fucking throat over it!”

Dipper flinched away from her, eyes wide, mouth open, but saying nothing. Her words hung between them. She took a deep breath, and let it out with a shudder.

“And maybe…” she started. “Maybe that’s what messed me up so bad. About you being a demon. It wasn’t what you are, or what you did… it’s what I did - what I did and never apologised for. It ate me up inside, Dipper.” She swallowed, hard. “It’s been eating at me all week. I couldn’t handle it when I was fifteen, and I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

It was silent. Noie hung her head low, and felt the silence stretch. She had nothing more to say but sorry, sorry, sorry… and when she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up, wordlessly.

Alcor was there, gazing down at her with his gold-on-black stare, his face framed by his fancy suit and by wings as black as the void… but Dipper was there, too. Dipper was there in the nervous smile he flashed her, in the awkward pat he gave her shoulder, in the stuttering way his words tumbled out of his mouth when he tried to speak.

“It’s… uh…” he tried. “You… want a hug, Noie?”

Noie stared at Alcor, Dipper, her brother for a second. Then, she sniffed, and threw her hands around him. He squeezed back, and she buried her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

It was nice, for a moment. Then something else wrapped around her, something warm like skin but also much, much wider and she looked back and-

“Aaah!”

“Whoa, sorry, sorry!” The darkness swallowing her up suddenly flared out behind Dipper. “Those were just my wings! Sorry!”

She stared. “Just your… just your wings, huh.”

“Yeah, I-I’m sorry, I should’ve known that would, that would be weird-”

“No, no! I’m sorry I freaked out!”

“No, don’t be sorry-”

“No, you don’t be sorry!” She giggled. “We… we’re a pair aren’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess it’s just… I don’t know! I don’t know, Dipper!” She sat down on the bed. “There’s a lot of things I have to get used to, I guess? Having a demon for a brother.” Her chuckles died out. She looked up at him. “But… I’ll work on it, okay?”

Dipper frowned. “You… don’t want to forget?”

“No. Not again. You’re a demon, Dipper. I don’t want to hide from that anymore. I don’t want to pretend you’re something you’re not.” She smiled. “You’re my brother, Dipper. Everything after that, that’s… I can get used to that, okay?”

Slowly, he gave a smile. “Okay.”

She grinned, and stood up from the bed. “Now let’s try that hug again, huh?”

Dipper sniffed, floated forwards, and wrapped his arms around her. They squeezed each other tight; Noie buried her face into the crook of his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

This was okay, she thought.

They’d be okay.

______________________________________________________________

“Hi! Welcome to Tree’s Teas, how can I- Noie!”

“Ey, Sara!” Noie swaggered over to the counter and slung her arm over the counter. “How’s it going? What’s cracking? Hopefully not the mugs, ha!”

Sara giggled as she raised an eyebrow. “It’s going okay… how are you? You seem kinda excited today!”

“Oh, yeah! I’m hanging out with my friend right now!” She grinned as Sara blushed a deep red. “And! I’m studying econ with my brother, so I’mma need two cups of my usual today!”

“Alright!” She picked up a mug. “By usual, do you mean the one tea I ordered for you last week? The Nutty Chai?”

“Yeah, yeah, that one! It was good!”

“Okay, then!”

Sara turned around to pour the tea. Noie fished around inside her wallet - there were so many receipts in here she could barely find her card.

“So your brother,” Sarah started. “Are you video chatting with him or something?”

Noie opened her mouth-

“Wait, you’re buying two teas, I’m dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.” She cracked a smile. “Maybe I just really like tea, yknow?”

“Heh. We do have free refills.” Sara turned to look at her. “But is he actually in town? Dipper?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s awesome! How long’s he visiting for?”

“Visiting?” The smile froze on her face. “Um…”

She trailed off there; Sara seemed to get the hint.

“Oh, am I asking like a bajillion questions? I’m sorry.” With a nervous laugh, she placed the first cup on the counter. “I haven’t seen him since high school, that was - wow, that was nearly a year ago!”

“Hah! Crazy, right? So much has changed.” Noie stared at steam rising from the mug. “So much has changed.”

“I know, right? So that’ll be… five thirty-nine for the two of them, Noie. Noie?”

Noie looked up. “Huh?”

“Five dollars and thirty-nine cents.” Sara frowned at her from behind the register. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Me?” She barked a laugh, started digging through her wallet again. “Oh, I’m fine! Never better! I was just remembering, um… he’s got a beard now. Dipper. It’s really funny.”

“Funny?” Sara chuckled a little. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything, and you’re not allowed to say a word about it.” She handed her card over. “You’ll see, dude. It’s great. He’s so proud of it… I love it.” Her snicker softened to a smile. “I love him.”

Sara grinned. “Aww.”

“Heh… ahem, anyway,” she took the card. “Enough mushy stuff, this is hard study time! We’re not just gonna pass this test, we’re gonna destroy it!”

“Heh, I bet you guys will. Good luck!” Sara blushed a little. “Hey, uh, if you’re still here in an hour, you know, I get off work at five, and-”

“You wanna join the study party?”

“Y-yeah!” She fiddled with her apron. “I mean, if that’s okay, it’s totally fine if it isn’t, I know-”

“Hey. Sara.”

“Yeah?”

“That’d be dope.” Noie pointed a cup of tea at her. “I’ll keep a seat open for you, okay?”

“Oh… okay. Okay!” She gave a grin. “Thanks, Noie. Careful with your tea.”

“Hey, if I spill some, it’s my brother’s. Anyway, we’ll be outside. See you at five!”

“See you!”

Noie walked out of the door, two cups in hand. The patio was shaded and covered in mist makers; it felt quite nice, for such a hot day.

It felt nice to see Dipper there, tucked away in the corner. He was still wearing a suit, but the eyes that looked up at her were warm and brown; the smile he gave her wasn’t stretched, or full of fangs. It was just… him. Dipper. Her brother.

Maybe he was other things, too, but he was always, always her brother.

Noie grinned back at him, and walked over.

#Noie's Brother #transcendence au #fanfiction #dipper #Noie #toothwrites #finished fic

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imagine-that-one-thing · 5 years

Text

Falling.

@tiostyles is doing a fic challenge that I decided to participate in. Enjoy!

The one where he appears to be a charismatic but a challenging person to understand in a coffee shop, but one night he lets it all out and lets it wash away.

Two Years Ago.

The BoardWalk Coffee house has a golden luminosity to it as the sunlight peeks between the silvery clouds and gleams in through the oversized windows that overlook the bay area. The sea looks somnolent as it rests in the dawn glow, but by this evening it’ll be transformed into a courageous and powerful ocean as the storm rolls in.

There he sits, with his notebook and pen accompanied by a cup of coffee which is a great contrast compared to the smoothies he has been sipping most mornings. His head tilts to the side, and he taps the pen on the journal with his lip chewed between his teeth. This morning, he looks like a rigid mess. His hair tumbles around his face, he sports a manlike, five o’clock shadow and his eyes that are a bewitching, tourmaline-green are a sullen loam grey that appears as if they haven’t slept in a few days. He appears different today; he looks like a miserable outcast which is unusual; he resembles a charming yet complex man with eyes that have the same startling prominence as a mountain stream. Whenever his eyes glance over at me while he scribbles and turns the sheet in his journal, they have this a-gleam with delight to them that although brand a hole inside me— they’re the portals to his soul— a soul I would like to get to know in a curious and intriguing way.

I taste my warm coffee with the harmony of the ocean shattering against the shore. I can’t help but be charmed by the man in front of me with each word he writes. I wonder each day what it is he does each morning; is assembling at the coffee place the first thing on his list of things to do in the morning? Or is it the last?

He catches me as the kind to be up before the sun rises and in bed just as it sets. There is something about him that makes me question so many things about him, such as how he takes his coffee and smoothies, and why he always leaves a twenty-dollar bill on the table even if he doesn’t buy a beverage. Most of all, I wish to understand his thoughts he is penning down on the paper and whether he is scribbling in cursive or print. I can only imagine his penmanship is as captivatingly engaging as he is.

I shake my thoughts aside and shift my eyes back to the scripted words of the book at the edge of my fingertips— a book I have run my fingers down the spine of so many times and never began reading until this morning.

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” An unusual yet familiar voice distracts me.

I glance away from my book to view the enigmatic man who perches at the table across from me is shadowing over me with a petite grin.

“Excuse me?” I gaze at him, noting the fact that for the first time this morning, there is a lustre to his eyes and a tiny smile beginning to paint across his lips.

The man chuckles to himself and signals towards the work of literature resting in my left hand, “Your book.”

I nod my head, “Oh, I see… How simple of you to quote such a well-known quote, I expected more of you.” I point out the fact he strikes me to be complicated, but he stays on the safe side with what he recites.

He raises a brow and becomes speechless for a minute. For a moment, I become fearful that I have overstepped and wounded his feelings, but my thoughts dwindle the moment he opens his mouth again to speak, “If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.”

“Huh, so you correct me. Maybe you are complex after all.”

“Why do you think I am complex?”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. “Just how I observe you. Are you going to introduce yourself or are you going to remain a difficult mystery for me to solve?” I question, watching as his lips curve up into a smirk.

He grows withdrawn for a moment, his eyes gazing at the book in my hand while his own hand has his notebook tucked away firmly.

“For someone so quiet, you’re very outspoken.”

“Ouch, easy there, could say the same about you,” I gesture towards his notebook. “I can bet that notebook can tell me more about you than what you ever could.”

I don’t need him to tell me I am right; I know I am right with my comment.

“The name is Harry,” he chuckles. “And you’re right,” Harry admits shyly and modestly.

I take a swig of the last of my coffee and I place the cup back down on the table. “Care to join me, Harry? I am due for another round.” I gesture towards my empty coffee. It has been a long few days, I deserve the second coffee for my struggles.

“You’re okay with that?” Harry cocks his head to the side, waiting for my response.

I’m not sure why he seems hesitant, perhaps it’s him being a gentleman or maybe there’s a part of him that doesn’t have much trust left inside him. He looks like something or someone has destroyed his dispositions and he doesn’t know what to do with himself or what to believe. “I just invited you, so yes. Why do you ask?”

“People do it differently here. Never quite know where I stand.”

I nod my head, “Ahh,” I sound. “Yes, you’re the outcast, I figured that out, where are you from?”

Harry grins and shrugs his shoulders, “I will leave you to ponder that while I get coffee,” Harry flicks his head to the barrister before he saunters over to the counter to order our drinks, leaving me alone with my book and my wandering thoughts.

I can determine he is an outsider, he does things differently compared to everyone else around here. The way he leaves the coffee shop amuses me, he does it in a graceful manner yet he is hurrying out as if he needs to beat the rush, but there is never a rush at the hours he is here. To be honest, we are usually here in the dead hours of the coffee place.

Although his accent is a blatant giveaway, he is not from this small town in South Carolina; he resembles the person who carries a piece of each place he goes to. He doesn’t appear to be the sort who can stay stagnant in one location, he has to always be moving and discovering new places to call home, even though the home he is looking for isn’t a place or four walls; Instead, the home he’s looking for is within someone else.

Harry places a coffee down on the table and slides it closer to me with a smile. “Thank you.”

Harry nods and takes a seat across from me. “Figured out where the outcast is from? Or do you need a hint?”

“You’re arrogant,” I point out as I take the coffee cup with my hand and swirl it around. “Your accent gives it away. But something tells me you spend little time in the UK.”

Harry nods his head, agreeing to both statements, “Observant.”… “I spent time in Cali before I came here.”

“Why’d you come here?” I question. The words seem to cut him like a double inch blade, and if I didn’t know anteater there’s something he’s trying to slip away from, but no matter how much he tries to flee, he never will until he admits what caused him to leave.

Harry’s eyes flick between my gaze and the notebook at the edge of his hand.

And there it is, there’s the answers. The answers to my questions lay in black ink, scribbled between the fine lines of the journal.

“I didn’t want to fall into old habits.”

“May I ask what you mean?”

“I needed new scenery. I write songs about the same things; I’m well aware I write too many songs about–,” Harry trails off and grows silent. He takes a sip of his drink, leaving us lingering in silence. There it is—his old habit.

I allow the silence to linger before I take a moment to grant us to get back to what we were doing before he sat over here; I read my book, and he nonchalantly opens his notebook, feeling comfortable enough to pat his pen against the paper.

He distracts me with every piece he crosses out with each harsh sigh. “What has you worried? You seem tired and frustrated, lay it out for me.”

“Excuse me?” Harry raises a brow.

“You heard me. Let it out; tell me what’s running through that mind and maybe it’ll stop you from crossing our every damn line you write,” I gesture towards the notebook that is taking the pain of his heavy hand. He can only cross out so many words with black ink before it consumes him.

Harry glances at me and he cocks his head to the side. “Have you thought about if you’re someone you want to be around?”

“Don’t turn this into something about me.” I see right through him. I see what he’s trying to do. He’s turning the tables because speaking of himself is too much.

Harry swallows hard, almost as if it’s too hard to come to terms with his thoughts. “What if I’m someone I don’t want around?”

I glance at Harry, beginning to piece together the man who sits in front of me is falling apart. A complex man who seems well put together is falling apart right in front of me. The lines he scribbles out aren’t just lines, they’re the words he can’t figure out how to express, the words he is thinking but is too scared to say out loud. He is scared the lines he is writing describe the person he is— or the person he doesn’t want to be. He fears being someone he doesn’t want around, but if he doesn’t show self-acceptance of himself, nobody will.

“What if you are someone you want around, but you’re too scared that you aren’t fitting into someone else’s depiction of you?” I question, causing Harry to grow quiet for a moment and ponder on what I have said.

“You’re a therapist, aren’t you?” Harry challenges, beginning to read me in the same way I am reading him.

I shake my head. “Not quite.”

“What do you do?”

“You like to put the focus on me, I see,” I comment. “I just finished my masters in Art Therapy and finished my teacher trainer education. In the fall I will start my classes and until then, I work at the hospital doing Art Therapy," I inform Harry of what I do, “So, care to answer my question? Is your problem you don’t fit into someone else’s idea of you? An ex-girlfriend?"

Harry glares at me and he closes his journal with a rough sigh. I can discover in his eyes he doesn’t want to answer the question, he doesn’t want to admit it to himself that the problem isn’t him, it is who he surrounds himself with. He is like the missing piece to everyone’s puzzle, but he can’t fit in every single puzzle as perfectly as he would like.

Harry clears his throat before he nods his head, “It’s like I lost myself with her, but I found myself at the same time… I sometimes wonder if I am someone I don’t want around… Especially when I think of her. But, that is a story for another day, will I see you here tomorrow?” Harry asks.

I shake my head, “No, I am suddenly going to stop my routine and decide to go to the burger joint next door,” I sarcastically respond, “Yes, I will be here, with my book," I gesture towards the book on the table.

“I will be here with this," Harry holds up his journal, flashing me a smile before he saunters away from the table and leaves.

Today.

The house has been quiet for the last hour and a half, dead silent since Harry got off the phone. At least once a week he gets a phone call, one that he loves but also dreads at the same time. Without a doubt, the phone calls tend to send him into a bit of a downward spiral. After the call, he closes himself off to the world, falls down his own rabbit hole and resurfaces once he comes back to his senses.

I wrap my cardigan around the front of my body as I step outside onto the porch that leads to the private boardwalk. I glance around, unable to see Harry. I step off the porch and walk down the stairs. I follow the pathway of the private boardwalk that is lit dimly by a few lights. At the end of the boardwalk, I reach the sand and I take off my shoes, allowing my feet to catch the coldness of the sand. I follow the light of the moon that flawlessly glistens off the darkened water of the ocean. The beach waves break against the shore in a calming manner, and the slight salty breeze sweeps through my hair. I glance towards the right of the boardwalk and there he sits, in his familiar location. He’s sitting with his guitar in his lap, his head bowed down as he strums a couple of chords.

I wander closer to his figure, the sound of the ocean harmonising ideally with the chords he is strumming. “You okay out here?” I softly ask, taking his attention away from the melody he has been playing.

Harry nods his head, “Yeah,” Harry lets out a sigh as he gazes up at me, the glow of the moon lighting up his eyes, “Guess you heard, huh?” Harry questions, referring to the argument he had over the phone.

I don’t listen in to his phone calls, sometimes it is difficult not to hear what is being said when he is unquestionably unsettled and angry; it is hard not to take note of Harry pacing the floorboards and wearing them thin. Distance is tough on him, and it is even more arduous on his family, specifically his sister. For the last few months, the two of them have ended most phone calls in anger and bitterness. Their relationship has been tight but what strains them is Harry’s lack of wanting to go back home.

“I heard you get upset, are the two of you still unable to find a middle ground?” I ask.

Harry shakes his head, “Her and I can’t have conversations, she wants me in London but I don’t want to be there.”... “And it kills me ‘cause I know we’ve ran out of things we can say.” His words come off heartbreaking, he is hurting and there is nothing I can do. “What if I’m someone I don’t want around?” Harry asks the same question he asked me when I first met him at the cafe.

The path Harry has travelled hasn’t been the easiest of paths, the man I met in the cafe was heartbroken, lost and swimming around his own thoughts wanting an escape but not knowing how to. He was trapped in his own emotions and thoughts, and to a certain extent, he still is confined sometimes. He falls, he falls into his old self and sometimes he falls into what he doesn’t want to become. He falls into the idealistic picture others sketch of him— he tries desperately to be the person he wants to be— but sometimes the person he becomes is someone painted by others.

I take a moment to kneel down in front of Harry, the cold sand spreading around my knees, “Keep your head above the water, Harry. You’re not drowning. You are the person you are meant to be, you are the creator of your own self. Things will be okay— this song,” I gesture towards his guitar that he has been carrying with him a lot, playing the same few chords, “This song you have been working on, it’s what you’re battling. Why?”

Harry shrugs, cocking his head to the side as he loosens his grip on the guitar before he allows it to sit on the sand. “I can sit here and tell myself that everything is fine, but at the end of the night, I’m down and I am out; I can’t stop myself from falling into old habits of needing the acceptance and clarity of others.”

“What are you looking for?”

“What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?” Harry whispers, the vulnerability dripping from his lips, his past relationships, distrust and let downs taking a toll on him as brushes his thumb over a chord.

I give him a small smile, “There’s a fine line,” I draw a line in the sand, “Between who you are and who you think you are, what’s important about yourself is who you think you are, do you know who you are?” I raise the question, gesturing to the side of the line where he sits before me, his eyes staring at me.

By now, he should be used to my cross-examinations that tend to cause him to think deeply about not only what I am saying but also what he is thinking. Some of my lines he uses in his lyrics and the lines I practice on him are the ones I overhear him singing or the ones I happen to catch a glimpse of. He is musically talented but sometimes he takes for granted the power of his own words. “You will always be someone I talk about, but that means nothing if, on your side of the line, you don’t believe it.”

“How… How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You just— you have a bloody way with words that changes the way I think.”

I shrug my shoulders, “I know you well,” I respond, “But you need to stop drowning yourself in these disagreements you are having with your sister, stop comparing yourself to who you used to be with your ex and focus on yourself. And finish the damn song you’re writing, you’re driving me nuts with it,” I gesture towards the guitar and Harry can’t help but chuckle to himself.

“I have finished it…” Harry trails off.

I let out a sigh, well aware of what is to come next, “But?” I draw out the short word, there is always a but involved when he trails off his sentences.

“It’s raw and vulnerable.”

“That’s what makes it real, it’s what makes you human.”

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, “You won’t be pleased.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Harry begins, “It’s about—” Harry can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

He doesn’t have to. I already know who it is about. I have heard a few of the lyrics passing by when he is humming and writing, I know she is the reason why the song has lyrics, and I know I am the reason why the song is being finished. As much as the song is about her, it is equally as much about me, the one who encourages him to write his feelings, even if they’re about the past and about an ex-girlfriend.

Writing and most forms of art come from deep down. They come from the experiences of both good and bad. Sometimes, without these experiences, we don’t form into the person we are meant to be, sometimes, without these experiences, we don’t create the Art that we were meant to. I, of all people, am aware of how each experience participates in what is created and what colours of the pallet are used.

I let out a sigh, well aware of what is to come next, “But?” I draw out the short word, there is always a but involved when he trails off his sentences.

“Have you called her?” I challenge.

“Who?”

“Your ex, the one the song is about.”

Harry shakes his head, “No, that would be disrespectful to you.”

I understand where he is coming from, it isn’t every day your current girlfriend is more than okay with you calling your ex and mending old fences, but in this sense, I think he needs to mend before he can be free. He is confined by the broken fences and he can’t figure out how to escape and breathe without looking back. “Harry, the only way to move forward and become someone you want to be around is to go back home and face it all. And get that final closure that only you can get when you face what you’ve been avoiding. That includes your ex.”

“I don’t want to go home. My life is here now. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Harry’s voice trails off into a whisper, almost as if he feels defeated and weak. “I-I don’t want my ex.”

“I know you don’t want her, but what you have been hiding from needs your attention. Set yourself free, mend what has been broken.” I pause for a moment. “I have an idea,” I smile and Harry looks at me, unsure of what I have in mind.

“I love you, but we are not painting any wall of the house again a new colour,” Harry informs me, reminding me of the time I made him channel his emotions through the paint on the wall in my art room.

“Write a letter, you don’t have to use her name, write a letter and everything you feel, fold it up, then we will throw it into the ocean and let it go. You will let go of the past, you will set yourself free as the ocean washes away the hurt and the pain, the water will wash away the letter but cleanse your soul.”

Harry stands to his feet with a broad grin spread across his lips, he takes my hand, tenderly drawing me up to meet him. He doesn’t say a word, he keeps his fingers laced with mine and guides us away from his guitar on the sand and invites the two of us closer to the water’s edge.

Harry’s the first to allow the water to was over his feet and I stand in front of him, hesitant. “It’ll be cold.”

Harry nods, “That’s how you know you’re still feeling. Trust me.” He encourages and I take the small steps forward, allowing the water to wash over my feet. The coldness takes over my body and rushes through me as I take a deep breath. Oddly enough, he is right, I am feeling. I feel the coldness wash over my feet and wash through my body in a cleansing way.

Harry reveals the paper in his hand that has the lyrics to the song he finished, “Every song has an end which makes room for a new melody,” Harry crumbles up the paper in his hand before throwing it into the water where it dances between the waves. Harry takes a breath and again flashes me a smile before he looks down at the water at our feet. “I am falling, I have been falling, but in the most electrifying way. As the water cleanses my soul and I release my past, I welcome my future with clarity,,. Will you marry me?” He gets down on one knee, disregarding the water soaking his pants as it washes away the part of him he has been holding in.

I never thought the falling outcast would be asking to marry the lonely one.

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