#jude & rosa 001.

[plantfeed]

turns out his instinct had been right — “i’m sorry your boyfriend got brutally murdered” was exactly the wrong thing to say. kind of feels like he’s thrown a pipe bomb at the situation, actually, only this time it hadn’t been a mindless act of anarchy against the pigs in the uniforms, but just a failure to connect the aux cable between his mouth and his prefrontal cortex. jude’s consistent only in his penchant for doing or saying the wrong thing, his whole life feeling like a video game exercise in poor judgement; hey kids! watch how low this garbage man can sink!  his only immediate response to rosa’s outburst is silence. shithead idiot fuckbrain silence, until, predictably, something worse than silence leaves his mouth; “i’ve got chicken shawarma too, if that’s better for you.”  obviously it’s not any fucking better. why the fuck would he even say that? but jude’s response to any kind of trauma is to fix it with food. when his dad had left, he’d gone through entire recipe books, tupperwares packed with leftovers spilling out the fridge any time his mum tried to find the margarine. mentally beating himself with a whip, he attempts to backtrack.  “sorry. sorry, i’m not trying to be…” what was the word she’d used? cavalier? like them tory fuckass spaniels?  “i’m not trying to be cavalier about it, i just don’t know what the fuck to say or do in this kind of situation, like i’ve never had to fucking comfort someone because their boyfriend died before.”  as if he’s actually making this about him. why is every single thing that comes out of his mouth just the worst possible thing that a human being could say?  it’s like his life is some huge fucking joke that never reaches a punchline, and all he can do is squirm in the awkwardness of it.  “i know i’m fucking terrible at it,”  jude admits, reluctantly getting to his feet. he's never claimed to be any different. he’s fucking terrible at a lot of things, speaking being a prime example. so often he scrambles for the language to communicate what he’s feeling, and it feels like trying to squeeze the contents of a reservoir through a straw. he wants to console her, but when he tries to find the words they come out all wrong, like attempting to take a test in a language he’s never even studied. countless times he's attempted to learn spanish, but jude fucking hates duolingo. that owl’s a piece of shit.  “and i’m probably the last fuckin’ person you want around right now. but i dunno, i just don't think you should be on your own. hate me as much as you want, rosa. but i just think you need to be around people, and you should eat, so...”  he offers her his chicken shawarma. “you can throw it on the floor as well, if you want.”  he’d rather she didn’t, since she’s already cost him four dollars fifty worth of food (and all jude can think about when he sees the mangled bits of falafel on the pavement are what talon's brains must look like) but maybe it'd be cathartic.  “it's there if you want it.”  what he’s trying, and failing, to say is i’m here, if you want me — to hit, to hold onto —  whatever you want, but i’m here.

For a moment, hearing the time was grounding. It wasn’t even all that late, Rosa had gone to bed much later on a work night. She’d pulled countless all-nighters in college, on first day of school, the night before a new unit she had to teach - when she was overthinking, really. Rosa was a chronic overthinker, it happened all the time, she rarely slept. So there was nothing to worry about, if you really think about it. She couldn’t even remember why she was so upset in the first place until - I’m sorry your boyfriend got brutally murdered. It sent Rosa reeling, physically reacting with the only thing she could think of. Stunned blinking, rocking backwards, as if she’d been slapped instead of reality crashing down around her again. This was her life now, every day there’d be reminders of Talon’s death that were so jarring, she’d stop breathing for a second. She’d think she died herself so many times a day - even just waking up, there’d be a moment where she’d forget. And then Rosa would roll over and there’d be no one beside her - because her boyfriend had been brutally murdered. “I’m not a fucking vegetarian.” She huffed, all but snatching the falafel out of his hands. It was crushed in a few seconds from her grip - and her stomach was still turning over, the idea of eating anything made her sick. She felt sick - her boyfriend had been brutally murdered and this boy she barely knew was trying to comfort her in the worlds worst way possible. By pointing out the obvious, and offering her shitty food. Smashing the falafel onto the ground, Rosa turned to Jude - if looks alone could kill, he’d be six feet under by now. She was so mad she didn’t know what to do with it, except for practically spit in Jude’s face, coming to a stand so quickly it made her dizzy, stumble over her feet for a second. Rosa was intimidating, all things considered, but she was far from intimidating at that moment - she was just a girl who lost her love and was crying about it. Having a temper tantrum, practically, to her friends ex hook up. Rosa didn’t think she could sink this low. “What makes you think you can - you’re terrible at this, do you know that? You’re - fuck your falafel, and fuck you. Acting so fucking cavalier about - someone died! Someone died, you fuck!” Pushing at Jude’s shoulder, Rosa began to wave about - manic with it, demanding he stand with more actions than words. “Stand up. Stand up! Now! Woke police - I don’t give a fuck about your stupid Irish family and their cannibalism. Get the fuck up! Now!”

[plantfeed]

jude's been on his way back from the kebab shop ( two falafel wraps for aoife and rudy and a chicken shawarma for jude ) when it happens. predictably, he's found himself right at the nucleus of destruction ( chaos attracts chaos ), a stone's throw from talon's apartment when the twitter headline pings in his pocket. a swipe of his thumb cements the knowledge and somehow makes him feel complicit, despite the fact that there's no reasonable way for him to have been at the kebab shop and in talon's apartment at the same time. trauma has a way of burrowing itself deep enough to trick you into believing all the trouble in the world is somehow your fault. whenever shit like this kicks off, he's a twelve year old kid in a thirty-seven square foot room at a juvenile detention centre again, naming five things he can see, four things he can smell, three things he can touch... so that explains the yellow tape. head down, his only focus is getting home as quick as he can and keeping himself out of shit, until he spots rosa, as jittery and shaken on the outside as he feels on his insides. for a moment, it's picture and no sound, her body physically beside him but with no recognition that he's even there. it's not an unfamiliar sight. he weighs up his options. continue home, and rosa would probably be none the wiser that he'd ever even stumbled upon her, or wait it out. eventually, empathy wins out, and with a stubborn sigh he drops down onto the curb beside her, begins unwrapping the foil of his shawarma, and simply allows her to exist.

when she comes to, it's staggered and sudden, questions blurting from her mouth a mile a minute, and jude has to take a conservative effort not to get swept up by it and match her energy. “ it’s, er… ”   jude hesitates, and swipes a greasy thumb over the touchscreen of his phone.  “ nine thirty - two. ”   he never knows what the fuck to say in situations like this. how the fuck do you say to someone i’m sorry your boyfriend got brutally murdered ?  oddly enough, the disconnect between his brain and his mouth is not as pronounced as he might have thought.  “ i’m sorry your boyfriend got brutally murdered ” is exactly what comes out of his mouth, followed somewhat hastily by, “ mate, that fucking sucks. ”  there’s silence for a moment on jude’s end, restless and awkward and hot beneath the collar of his adidas zip-up.  eyes scan over to rosa, watching her face and trying to recall from his first aid training course the signs of shock. rapid, shallow breathing. pale, clammy skin. rosa’s pretty pale and clammy anyways, to be fair.  swallowing, he turns his attention back to the bag of takeout on his lap. it’s not exactly like he’s leaving rosa’s side any time soon.  “ you’re vegetarian, right ? ”  jude asks, because she seems like the type.  then again, he’d also assumed rosa was a lesbian, which is probably why he’s never tried to shag her — not that she’d even have given him a chance when he’d been head over dick in love with lana.  “ do you want a falafel wrap ? i mean my sister's probably given up and eaten the baby by now, old-school irish famine style. ” jude pauses for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. swift's a modest proposal probably isn't the kind of dinner-time discussion rosa was expecting, or the fact that he'd even read it. most people do a double take when jude talks about literature, and he half expects a nod to draco malfoy's ' i didn't know you could read'. his hands itch nervously at the back of his neck. when he gets nervous, he starts saying fucked up shit. it's like there's some social skill broken in his brain. “ sorry. that's probably not appropriate. but my mum's whole family are irish. immigrated from after the famine, so... i'm allowed to say that. in case you were gonna report me to the woke police or whatever. ”

open starter; outside talon's apartment

Through the wishy-washy hurricane in her mind, Rosa tried to piece together where she'd gone wrong. Sat beside her on the curb while she shook like a leaf - it wasn't that cold out, she shouldn't be shaking so bad, she needed to get it together - sat a lava cake she'd spent laborious hours on. It was Talon's favourite - and it made her run late. Maybe if she'd been better, picked up the pace, she'd have been there on time. And then the police - they'd instructed her to do CPR. And she'd done it, like her own life depended on it, but. She'd hesitated. The shame ate at her almost worse than her own grief - because the face she saw, she didn't even recognize. Whoever did this had marred Talon's beautiful face so badly, and Rosa had hesitated before leaning in and pushing air into his lungs. His blood still streaked across her own mouth and cheek. She did this. She was too late and too scared and -. "What time is it?" she blurted the moment she came to - somewhat - and realized someone had sat beside her. "I have to - I have to call into work. I have to tell them I... I can't make it tomorrow, or... or I'll be late at least. It's late, isn't it? Right now. Oh my god, did - did someone call T-Talon's mom? I have to... I have to call her. She should - she should hear it from... from someone who loved and - c-cared about him."