#like they can’t really even be a full year apart. geez louise.

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me considering the fact that Donald is 38 in season 1 which makes him 40 in season 3, but Douglas talks about his own 40th birthday party in season 3, which means that rather than the 2-4 year age gap I always assumed there was, their mom must have become pregnant with Douglas as soon as physically possible after having Donald

[andersunmenschlich]

Episode 3: Across the Street

All right, this one's the statement of an "Amy Patel," given when I was 27 years old.

We've got another student—an office worker taking a Criminology course at night as a sort of distraction from her boring job. One of her fellow students is a man named Graham, about a decade older than her, and a bit off-putting.

He smokes a lot, which means I wouldn't be able to even be around him because the smell would burn like acid and sandpaper in my nose and lungs and throat. Apparently this isn't a problem for Amy Patel though, which I find kind of enviable because dang it, isn't my life painful enough without all the extra pain any time I'm around anyone who smokes? They may think they're covering it with deodorant or perfume or aftershave or whatever, but they’re not, and the extra scents just make it worse, really... and those chemicals smell like poison.

He also scribbles furiously in a notebook during lectures, but says he doesn't take notes.

So either he doesn't realize he's doing it, or what he's writing has nothing to do with the lectures he's in, which... what's the point of being in the lecture, then?

She only sees him in classes until one night when they're both on the same bus. He's in front of her, so she's able to watch him without him knowing (which, personally, I think is the best way to watch people), and he's staring out the window like he's looking for something, scanning streets and rooftops.

At which point Amy Patel does a quite incomprehensible thing and goes and says hi.

And sits down next to him.

And talks to him.

Who, may I ask, thinks that's an okay thing to do?

Bafflingly, Graham seems fine with it. In fact he almost seems to like it, since he relaxes when she sits down by him, and apparently carries on a conversation about nothing with reasonable facility. I don't understand either of these people.

Then it turns out they've both got the same stop, at which point Amy returns to sanity for a bit and isn't comfortable with him knowing where she lives.

They get off the bus and they're both heading the same direction, and it's looking like they live on the same street, actually, when Amy (walking behind Graham) gets grabbed from behind and thrown into the street. By... apparently no one. Ooh, I'm thinking we've just encountered whatever Graham was scanning the streets for on the bus!

Strange that it would go for her, though.

Because it's the middle of the night and there are basically no cars, she doesn't get run over. But she does get a concussion.

Actually she gets knocked out for a bit, and because of the way head wounds bleed there is apparently a notable amount of blood and Graham calls an ambulance. The paramedics patch her up and tell her not to be alone for the next few hours because concussion.

That sounds terrible, frankly.

Even if I had a concussion, I think I'd be fine on my own, thanks. I can set alarms and things. Plus I've always been quite disciplined mentally.

In any case, she doesn't want Graham knowing where she lives, so she goes home with him—which doesn't strike me as much better, as these things go, but I suppose if one had to choose... well, why not find an all-night store or a restaurant or something?

It turns out all right, though, because she's able to learn that Graham's apartment is just across the street from hers and only two floors lower, which is not ideal for spying but not bad for it either. Also she spots a couple of hooks inside the window and assumes they support a window box, but when she looks again the hooks are gone. I'm... that's worrying. That's delightfully shivery, and brings back memories of whatever shoved her and vanished.

Graham has a lot of bookshelves, which I approve, but apparently they all hold notebooks, which I'm less sure about.

I mean, I have seven or eight bookshelves myself, but they all have books on them. Proper books, written by people who aren't me, mostly in English but maybe 200 or so in Japanese and a couple in, you know, German and Greek and that—normal books, is my point.

Not notebooks.

Also, they're categorized by language, then genre, and within genre, ordered by author's family name. Graham's notebooks, on the other hand, don't seem to have any system at all.

I do not approve.

So he settles her down on the sofa and gets her an icepack for her head and some tea for her insides, which is nice, and then he doesn't know how to handle silence, which is less nice. I mean, don't get me wrong: it's enjoyable to learn things about people. I can't count the number of times complete strangers have come up to me and told me things about themselves I never asked, and I've never objected. But when one has a concussion, I feel, people should leave one alone.

In any case, Graham tells Amy his life story, and she becomes thoroughly enraptured by his living room table in preference to listening to him.

The table interests me, too.

Apparently it's wooden, ornately carved, and has a hypnotic pattern of weaving lines on the surface which lead toward the center of the table, where there's a small square hole. Graham notices her staring and provides some information: he found it in a secondhand shop in bad shape and fixed it up but can't find the bit that goes in the middle.

Meanwhile, outside the window that doesn't have a window box in it, there are weird noises that Amy Patel assumes are pipes but I do not.

I'm thinking whatever it was that threw her into the street is hanging outside the window with its hook-hands, being creepy. Ooh, that's such a spooky thought! I really like it. I believe it's after Graham, but clearly it's not averse to going after her as well, so....

Anyway, Amy Patel heads off to be alone sooner than the medics said was okay, which I really can't fault her for, and does just fine.

A few days later, though, she starts spying on Graham.

Because she knows where he lives now, of course, and which window is his!

Honestly, I would have started spying a lot sooner. Actual real-life humans are far more interesting than fictional ones, and I like information, especially when it's about particular humans and no one knows I have it. Here, at least, Amy Patel makes sense to me. She makes Graham-watching her hobby "purely out of a detached interest in his life." I understand that.

And what she sees is weird.

He's obsessed with his notebooks, apparently, but can't seem to order them properly no matter how many times he reorganizes them, and sometimes he writes even in the ones that are already full.

Oh, and then there's the time he pulls down a notebook, tears out its pages, and eats them one at a time.

See, that's just weird.

Plus he's constantly freaking out any time there's an unexpected noise, running to the window and craning around like he's looking for something (then calming down when, apparently, he doesn't see it). And when he's not doing weird things with his notebooks, he just sits around chain smoking and staring at nothing, or at that strangely hypnotic table.

Which doesn't seem healthy to me. But Amy Patel says he leaves the apartment regularly and she doesn't follow to watch him outside it—which I might do—so who knows what all else he gets up to?

They're not in the same course anymore because she had to drop out, so he never sees her.

And then on Friday, April 7th, the real spooky happens.

Amy Patel is staring into Graham's living room via the window, and his light's on but he isn't in the room, so she's waiting for him.

Then she notices that there's a water pipe outside the window where there never was one before. And then it bends. And Amy Patel realizes that it's a long, thin arm—which reminds me of the long, thin arm in that dark alley from the first episode! Is this that same monster? It is the same world....

Anyway, it hooks the end of itself through the window.

Told you those weren't window box hooks.

And then the whole thing pulls itself through the window really fast, which is unhelpful. I'd quite like a better description! It's mottled gray, apparently, with at least four limbs. It whisks inside and the window slams after it and the light in Graham's flat goes right out.

Whereupon Amy Patel calls the police and reports a break-in.

I... I wouldn't do that.

I mean, it's not that it doesn't seem like a good thing to do, but I just wouldn't. I don't like using the phone. Text messages are fine, but one can't exactly text the police, can one? And that's about all I'd be comfortable doing.

She stares at the window until the police arrive—and when they do, the light goes back on in Graham's apartment.

The police go up, and a stranger lets them in: somebody shorter than Graham, with blond curly hair instead of short, dark hair... somebody wearing Graham's clothes. And the police search the place, looking for an intruder, and find nobody (because the intruder is right there, pretending to be the lawful owner of the place).

Which pretense you'd think would've gone right out the, uh, window it came in by when one of the cops finds a passport—but no! She looks at the passport, looks at the stranger, and decides they're the same person.

Oooh, that's freaky. I like it.

The police drive away and Amy Patel watches them go... and then she looks up and the imposter is looking right at her.

And he grins.

And pulls the curtains.

Oh, geez louise! That's lovely. That's just beautiful; I love it. That is so creepy.

So now Graham's gone. There's only this new person, who apparently throws away all Graham's notebooks, and keeps the curtains closed except when he's staring at Amy Patel's window, which he does every night. I suppose turnabout is fair play, but when the one doing the turning isn't—well, that doesn't seem right!

Personally, I would've gone through the garbage. I mean, you never know: maybe those notebooks would've cleared some things up... and even if they didn't, more information is always welcome.

Ooh, and whenever she finds a picture with Graham in it, it's always this new guy! While nobody from the course seems to remember him at all.

That is some power. I am impressed.

And then she runs into Not-Graham one day before work and he says he'll need to visit her one of these days, whereupon she moves away. And this seems to do the trick, since she says she never saw him again.

These stories are so good! I know this is only the third one I've listened to so far, but my. We are off to a good start.

Mr. Sims would like to dismiss this particular story, I think, but he's having trouble because Amy Patel is frankly very sane. Which he knows because Tim (the same assistant from last time) got hold of her medical records. Which doesn't seem legal? Jonathan Sims doesn't seem to care about legality so much he does as finance, though.

"He'd better not be using Institute funds to woo filing clerks again," he says.

Again?

Uh.... I'm not sure what kind of research the Magnus Institute does, but it looks like Mr. Sims, at least, is more interested in getting information than in following the rules.

Interestingly, the Institute somehow managed to get a whole bunch of photos of Graham (last name Folger, like the coffee), and only the Polaroids show the original Graham. Which reminds me of the bit in the first episode where Mr. Sims said some of the archive files apparently couldn't be recorded except with an old-fashioned tape recorder....

Ooh, and they got one of his old journals!

Which was apparently just full of "Keep Watching," written over and over again. So... way less helpful than I'd hoped. Oh well. Still nice to know.

I'm not sure this is the same monster from the first episode. I mean, that one seemed to vanish people for good and all, not replace them. But they—I dunno, they strike me as similar somehow. So perhaps they're, sort of, monstery cousins or something?

The coffin one seems very different from these two.

But I suppose I could be wrong.

[choupetit]

GOT Recap:  A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Airdate: 4/21/19 ;  Season 8, Episode 2

Meep, things are really heating up on Game of Thrones!  Or rather, cooling down…oh heck, I don’t know what to do with all the Fire and Ice metaphors. Let’s just say, stuff is getting real and the latest installment of GOT  gave us one last moment to enjoy the fuzzy warm feels before next week’s huge battle against the Night King’s army begins.  This last episode was all about wish fulfillment and tying up loose ends for viewers – and I’m still a bit conflicted about how I feel about it all. But fear not, we’ll get into my two cents about it very soon.  Now, find a warm body to snuggle up to and get a toasty fire going, because the night is dark and full of manipulative story ploys.  Here’s my recap of:  “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

I Know What You Did Last Long Summer

We start things off with Jaime Lannister standing before a tribunal in the Great Hall at Winterfell, with Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, and Jon Snow seated at the VIP table. Dany shares that she and her brother grew up talking about what they would do to the man who murdered their father, once they captured him and reclaimed the Seven Kingdoms.  She points out that Cersei promised her an army, and instead has only sent one man with one hand.  Ouch, that smarts.  Jaime fills everybody in on Cersei’s plan: She isn’t sending any help. Rather, Queen Cersei has procured a hired army and is sending them to Winterfell to finish off whatever survivors are left after the impending war against the Dead.  She lied to them all – Jaime included – and he left her to come and join Jon and Dany’s battle for the living.  Daenerys casts a pointed gaze at Tyrion Lannister, who looks miserable. Ya done messed up, Ty!

Dany wonders how they can possibly trust Jaime. Tyrion sticks up for his brother, but is shot down by Daenerys who counters that perhaps this is an elaborate scheme for Jaime to assassinate her.  Sansa chimes in that Jamie can’t be trusted, and lists the crappy things he did to House Stark, including attacking Ned Stark back in Season 1.  When Jaime defends his actions saying it was during a time of war, and that he was protecting his family, Bran dryly states “The things we do for love.” Fear flickers in Jaime’s eyes.  Bran knows!  

Brienne of Tarth steps up and defends Jaime.  She tells Dany how she and Jaime were captured a few years back and he defended her when she was this close to getting raped – and lost his hand in the process. To Sansa, she says that it’s only due to Jaime’s honor in keeping his word to Catelyn Stark that Brienne was able to find and save Sansa from the sadistic Ramsay Bolton.  This is enough to change Sansa’s mind.  Dany seems peeved by Sansa’s about-face and asks Jon what he thinks.  Visibly still grappling with the bombshell about his parents, Jon doesn’t even look at Dany and simply states they need all the extra help they can get.  Dany allows Jaime to stay and fight with them, and they all rise.  Sansa huffs off and when Dany turns to Jon, he’s all “K gotta run, byeeee.” Ugh, you let a guy ride your dragon one time and then he gets all weird on you.  Brienne shoots Jaime a look that clearly states “Don’t make me regret sticking my neck out for you,” and Bran just stares at him.  Again.  Creepily.

Rebuffed by her lover, and fuming about Cersei’s deceipt, Dany is ripe to start throwing cell phones at her assistants.  She chews out Tyrion for being either in cahoots with Cersei, or a damn fool. When Tyrion tells her it’s the latter, she retorts “It’s not the first time,” and indicates his time may be up serving as Hand of the Queen.  Varys and Ser Jorah are all “Awwwwkward.”

Number 1 Crush

At the Winterfell forge, we see Gendry’s handiwork:  Tons and tons of spearheads and other weapons made of dragonglass are ready to be wielded. As Gendry works, Arya approaches and takes in all his hunky, sweaty manliness, then asks him about the weapon she requested.  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that after I make a few thousand more of these. Shouldn’t you be hanging out in the crypts anyway when the fighting begins?  It’s the safest place to be.” Arya questions why he thinks he’s qualified to fight – he’s just a blacksmith.  When he tells her he killed a few of the Dead and she wants to know what they’re like, his reply is “Really bad”. “How bad are we talking, dude?  What do they look like? How do they smell? When they change a toilet paper roll, do they do it the wrong way or the right way – and don’t you DARE say there isn’t a right way, Gendry!!” “Ok, fine, they’re like death, ok?” “Oh, cool, I know all about death!” Arya gives Gendry an impressive demo of her razor sharp knife throwing skills – it’s instant bonerville for Gendry.  “So…how about that weapon?” – “Yes, ma’am, coming right up!!” Ok, these two flirting is just too much. Arya is such a badass, I love it! And she deserves a little joy in her life.

Meanwhile, a very remorseful Jaime seeks out Bran by the Weirwood tree and apologizes for pushing him out the tower window all those years ago, rendering him a paraplegic. Jaime questions why Bran didn’t tell the others about this, and Bran tells him he can’t be much use in their fight if Bran lets his family murder Jaime.  “But aren’t you mad at me?” Let’s just break this down for you, dude: Bran ain’t mad at anybody.  He is so beyond all those petty human emotions, because OMG you guys are all about to be annihilated by ruthless ice zombies and Bran is trying to figure out how to stop it.  “Ok, so what happens after?” asks Jaime. Bran counters, “What makes you think there is an after?”

Oooh sidebar! Y’all I have been knee deep in GOT theories the past few weeks, and one of the theories I’m really into says that Jaime might be Azor Ahai (the Prince who was Promised) and plays a huge role in defeating the Night King.  There’s this whole prophecy about it in the books, and the High Valyerian words for “Gold” and “Hand” are very similar to the words “Lord” and “Light”. After this chat with Bran, I’m convinced Jaime is a key player in ending the Night King’s reign.

Later, Tyrion and Jaime walk around the courtyard, discussing the two queens.  Tyrion says how he truly believes Daenerys will be a great queen for the realm, and the two commiserate over how Cersei fooled them – the part about being pregnant is true, though.   Tyrion notes that Jaime has never been fooled by Cersei, he’s always loved her in spite of her miserable character.  When Tyrion remarks that they are likely going to die at Winterfell, he muses that at least Cersei won’t have the satisfaction of killing him.  Hey, maybe his dead corpse will go down to King’s Landing and tear her apart - but Jaime isn’t listening.  He is distracted by something else – or rather someone:  

Brienne of Tarth, is on the practice field, watching Podrick as he spars with another fighter.  Jaime shows up and chats with her about the impending battle. Brienne is weirded out by how nice Jaime is acting, because he’s always shown  his snarky side around her in the past.  He tells her he returned to Winterfell because we wants to serve under her command. She excuses herself.  Oh man! Brienne has been holding a torch for Jaime for so many seasons and he is finally sorta living up to the person she has seen in him all along: a good and honorable guy.  And he came to Winterfell to fight alongside her? Hubba hubba.  And yet…I don’t see anything romantic ever happening between these two, even though there is something there.  It just feels like he’s the super popular dude who’s had a lot of personal growth and really likes her and cares for her, but will never actually date her because she isn’t a supermodel.  Ya know what I mean?  Brienne is in the friend zone 4eva. Also, I think this whole exchange means Brienne ain’t long for this world – she’s probably going to sacrifice herself to save Jaime during the battle. Sorry, Bri Bri!  We love you, though!

A Matter of Trust

In Daenerys’s quarters, Ser Jorah takes a moment to tell her to take it easy on Tyrion.  He knows his Khaleesi is super pissed, but he advises her to see past Tyrion’s flub and keep him on as Hand of the Queen because he has a super big brain.  Coming from Jorah, this means a lot.  Then he offers another suggestion:  Make more of an effort with Sansa Stark.

In the great hall, Dany requests a heart to heart with Sansa Stark who also puts in a good word for Tyrion when Daenerys makes a snarky remark about not having faith in her advisors. Geez Louise, everybody is sticking up for Tyrion in this episode!  The conversation turns to Dany drawing comparisons between herself and Sansa as female leaders in a man’s world and then she’s all “Girls rule, yay!!!  So...why don’t you like me?” - “Honestly?  Because guys can do pretty dumb stuff for women and they’re easily manipulated. And you basically convinced Jon to give up his crown for you”  Dany’s all: “Ok, so, real talk? I was all about taking the Iron Throne, and then Jon pops up and tells me about these weird Snow Zombies coming to destroy us all, and I dropped everything to help him fight his war, so…who is being manipulated?”  [Personally, I think that’s a lame argument, because obviously the survival of mankind is still totally in your interest, Daenerys, because if they are all dead you don’t have anybody to rule, m’kay?]  Sansa  warms a bit to Dany, and tells her she should have thanked her when she arrived.  But just as Daenerys is cozying up to Sansa and holding her hands, Sansa takes things right back to business – God, I love her for it:   “So, Dany, riddle me this:  Let’s say we defeat the Night King and Cersei.  What happens next?” Dany’s face is a little perplexed “Um, I rule on the Iron Throne.  Obviously.” –“Yeah, but what about the North?  We took back our land and we swore we’d never give it back, so…what about the North?” This does not make Dany happy, and she looks about ready to lose it.  

Thankfully, however, their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of:  Theon Greyjoy and his men.  He fills them in on the successful rescue of Yara, and informs Queen Daenerys that Yara is reclaiming the Iron Isles for Dany.  He returned to fight for Winterfell – if they’ll have him.  Sansa’s eyes fill with tears and she rushes to embrace Theon.  It’s a very sweet moment but also, I’m immediately worried that the writers are going to try and make something romantic happen here.  Ew, not Theon. I’m just going to chalk this up to him and Sansa sharing a strong mutual survivor bond.  Also, my death prediction: Theon is sooo gonna die.  And they've been making Daenerys super unlikeable these past two episodes that it has me a little nervous they might off her, too.

In the courtyard, Davos is running a soup kitchen and gives a short pep talk to some of the men who have arrived.  Gilly is telling some girls how safe the crypts are – the safest place at Winterfell, actually.  You guys, make sure you write this down:  The crypts - where they keep all the dead bodies which have not been burned - are the safest place in Winterfell.   So if you have zero fighting skills, you really totally without a doubt need to head to the crypts where no dead bodies will suddenly come to life and attack you because the crypts are S-A-F-E, you got it?  

A little girl asks where she should go when the battle starts because she wants to fight, too. Gilly advises her to go to…you got it. The crypts. Le sigh.

A horn blows and Jon turns the corner to see who it is:  The Night’s Watch from Castle Black have arrived and as he goes to bro hug Dolorous Edd, he’s tackled by Thormund Giantsbane like an overjoyed Saint Bernard pup. Beric Dondarrion is there, too.  Yay, Jon’s happy to see them all and probably is even happier that he has more legit reasons to avoid Daenerys.  His friends inform him they met up at the Last Hearth - everybody was dead and gone.  It’s safe to assume anybody who hasn’t made it to Winterfell by now has been claimed by the Night King’s army.  Jon asks how long until the Dead will arrive and Thormund replies:  Just before sunrise. Also, Thormund would really like to know where Brienne is.  Oh me, oh my – will my Brienne, Jaime, Thormund troika dreams come true? Unlikely, but I do love Thormund’s interest in Brienne, if only for the comic relief it provides.

In the war room, all the important peeps have gathered to talk strategy.  The Night King’s army is too big, and they never tire, so Jon & Co. won’t be able to beat them in a straight fight.  Their best chance at survival is to kill the Night King – if they kill him, they kill his army.  But how? If he’s that important, the Night King won’t risk exposing himself – when they say this, I just imagine the Night King in a long trench coat.  Yeah, I’m mature.  Bran volunteers to be human bait, because the Night King is after him.  But why, Bran, why? We discover that the Night King’s ultimate goal is an endless night and he wants to wipe out all trace of men and their memories.  Bran is basically a human hard drive with the entire history of their world and the Night King wants to erase it all.  I don’t know…it’s kind of a weird reason to me.  I mean, if the Night King is gonna kill everybody anyway, why is it so important that he kill Bran first?  Sam waxes poetic about death and how when we die our memories are forgotten and we are forgotten, blah, blah, blah, but I still don’t get it.  What is the difference between wiping out all of mankind’s history and killing everybody vs. just wiping out mankind?  Wouldn’t wiping out mankind just, like...wipe out mankind and its history?  I don’t know folks.  Clue me in if you understand. Or is it just a matter of getting rid of any evidence on how to stop the Night King? In that case, just say so, Bran.

Anyhoo, Bran will wait for the Night King in the Godswood – he has a GPS tracking device on him, so the Night King always knows where he is.  His siblings are vehemently against it, but Theon volunteers to be there with his guys to help protect Bran.  Why do we think this is a better idea than Bran’s own family protecting him?  I mean, other than simply using this as a plot device for Theon to die while defending Bran and thus somehow redeem himself for all the shitty stuff he did to the Stark kids when they were younger? Obviously, I’m not a big fan of this scene.

Dany tells Tyrion he’ll have to wait in the crypts during the battle because: a) they are super safe and b) Dany needs his mind because her faith in him has been restored. Yeah, after hearing what everybody told her so far, she also polled 28 whores about his character and realized she shouldn’t fire him after all because he’s a good dude and actually really smart.  Except for when it comes to trusting his evil sister, whose superpower is stabbing people in the back, who has always hated him, and has never done anything in her life to prove herself trustworthy in his eyes.

Oh, and one more thing: They’ll need to have the dragons close by to save Bran if things go bad.  Not too close to give anything away.  Just close enough to probably be completely useless and get one more dragon killed.  M’kay? Sounds like a plan, team!  

As they wrap things up, Thormund points out the silver lining: They are all going to die, but at least they’ll die together.  He flashes a winning look at Brienne.  Jon hastily leaves, expertly avoiding Dany once again, and everybody except Bran and Tyrion exits the room.  Tyrion tells Bran he wants to hear all about his stories and they both settle in next to the fire.

One Last Waltz

And now…get ready for the showrunners to check off all your hopes and dreams for all your favorite characters so you can have one final lovely memory of them all alive before everything goes to hell:

In the courtyard, Grew Worm and Missandei share a special moment where they make plans for the future. Once Grey Worm has finished securing the throne for Daenerys, he’s gonna retire with Missandei and she can visit her home again.  And he’ll keep her and her peeps safe with his Unsullied pals as they live happily ever after. So…he’s gonna die, right?

On the ramparts, Jon and Sam hang together with Ghost nearby.  Yay, finally we see a direwolf again!  Sam asks Jon when he is going to fill Daenerys in on the revelation of Jon’s true parents.  Edd arrives and declares “And now our watch begins.” Gilly and little Sam will be in the crypts (wanna know why?) and Jon tells Sam he can go, too – to protect them – but Sam scoffs and asks his buds to give him some credit.  He was, after all the first of them to kill a white walker and discover other ways to defeat the Dead.  They take a moment to remember their fallen friends from the Night’s Watch and Edd grimly states “Last man left, burn the rest of us.”

In the Great Hall, Tyrion and Jaime sit by the fire and enjoy a cup of wine as they ponder how much they’ve changed since their last visit to Winterfell and Tyrion bemoans the perils of self betterment – gone are his days of excessive drinking and whoreing.

Brienne and Podrick arrive in the great hall – oh hai, guys!  They were looking for a place to warm up, and Jaime insists that they join him and his bro. Brienne agrees – obviously. Is she going to pass up the chance to be with her hunky unrequited love? Never.  Oh, and would you look at that!  Davos and Thormund pop in as well to join some theater in the round. Thormund regales them with a hilarious story of how he got the “Giantsbane” moniker. Truly, he is the shining star in this episode and certainly in this scene. I’m feeling extra manipulated by the show – now that we’re more emotionally invested in him, I’m 100% sure that he’ll be killed off next week.

Up on the ramparts, Arya sees the Hound and sits next to him.  They have a nice moment when she questions why he’s even here fighting with everybody.  “When is the last time you fought for anybody?”, she asks.  He replies gruffly, “I fought for you, didn’t I?” And that is the line that wins the night.  Awwwww, I love the Hound.  Then Beric Dondarrion shows up and ruins the moment.  He apologizes to Arya for the way they parted the last time they saw each other – ya know, when he sold out Gendry to Melisandre to do her voodoo magic.  When he starts talking about the Lord of Light, the Hound tells him to shut his trap and Arya is all “Peace out, I’m gonna find something better to do than spend my final hours with you old farts.”

Next, Arya whiles away the time with some archery practice when Gendry arrives with the weapon he’s fashioned for her.  It’s a spear and she gives it a whirl – not bad at all.  As she shows off her fancy spear twirling skills, Arya asks Gendry what Melisandre did to him after she took him, and he tells her about the blood magic.   She assumes (correctly) that Melisandre had sex with Gendry and suddenly Arya is grilling Gendry about all his past partners, presumably calculating her risk of contracting syphilis.  Apparently, Gendry’s number of former lovers is satisfactory and Arya reveals that if she’s going to die in the battle against the dead, she wants to at least know what sex feels like and they get. It. On.  Oh my stars!! I’m equal parts stoked that Arya and Gendry hooked up, and also intensely worried now that one of them will die – maybe even both of them. Gah!  I wish I wasn’t so traumatized by GOT to assume that any time a good moment happens, it will be yanked away, but such is the life of the Game of Thrones fan:  We can’t have nice things.

Call Me By Your Name

Back in the Great Hall, Tyrion remarks how all of the people in the room had at one point fought the Starks in one way or another, and now they are united in fighting together at Winterfell.  As Tyrion gives them all a verbal pat on the back for surviving so many battles, he accidentally calls Brienne “Ser” and corrects himself.  Thormund is confused that Brienne isn’t a knight, and she tells him women can’t be knights because sexist traditions are alive and well in Westeros. When Thormund tells her he’d make her a knight if he were king, Jaime points out that you don’t need a king to be knighted – another knight can do it. And so, with a little coaxing everybody encourages Brienne to get knighted.  She’s always wanted to be a knight and she accepts the honor with all the grace and reverence it warrants.  Ser Jaime Lannister taps her shoulders with his sword, reciting the words and at last proclaims her a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.  As the men in the room start a slow clap and cheer for her, Ser Brienne of Tarth rises with tears in her eyes and a luminous smile.  Oh God, she’s toast now!!!!

In the courtyard, Ser Jorah Mormont and his little cuz Lyanna Mormont argue.  He thinks she should go to the crypts –I really don’t want to say this, but I must…because they are the safest place to be—and Lyanna insists that she vowed to fight, and that’s precisely what she’ll do.  She wishes him well just as Samwell Tarly shows up. He presents his family’s sword to Ser Jorah.  It’s called Heartsbane and it’s made of Valyrian steel.  The sword is too heavy for Sam to wield himself.  He shares that Lord Commander Mormont – Jorah’s father – was a wonderful mentor who taught Sam to always do what’s right, and Sam would be honored for Jorah to have it.  Ser Jorah accepts the weapon, and then Sam has to go and say something like: “I’ll see you when the battle’s through.” F#$K!!!! So now Jorah’s gonna die?! I can’t take it, you guys!

Aaaand we’re back at the Great Hall, where the wine has run out and the karaoke portion of the night has begun.  Podrick, it turns out, has the voice of an angel and treats the group to a lovely and haunting melody.  It’s a perfect tune for a montage scene and we get one last glimpse of all the characters we’ve come to love as they have one last tender and bittersweet moment of togetherness.

In the ever-so-safe crypts, Jon stands at Lyanna’s coffin and statue, and Daenerys approaches. She asks who the statue is of, and Jon simply says “Lyanna Stark.” Dany knows the story of Lyanna’s abduction – she tells Jon that she grew up hearing such good things about her brother Rhaegar, who was known to be kind and decent, and yet, he raped Lyanna.  Jon corrects her “Oh, but he didn’t,” and all the details spill out.  Dany is shook by the revelation that Jon is actually Rhaegar’s legitimate son and asks how he knows this – she is not impressed by Jon’s sources and points out how convenient it is that his brother and best friend are the only people who can corroborate the story.  Her thoughts immediately go to the Iron Throne and the fact that Jon would have a better claim to it, if what he says is true. Before they can go into things further, a horn sounds: The Dead are here.  Jon and Dany give each other a look of agreement and both storm off – presumably to ride some dragons.

In the dark, a horse’s hoof stops in the snow and as the camera pans up, it reveals the Night King’s lieutenants all lined up in formation, ready for the attack, their gaze fixed upon Winterfell in the near distance.   Roll credits.

Holy moly so many people are gonna die next week, and I am losing my mind over here!  This episode was a lot of things, and while I feel like I got all the moments I technically wanted, I also feel weirdly placated by the writers for actually giving those moments to us viewers.   I’m not sure how true some of the actions were to the characters, and it seemed more like the last 20 minutes were purely catering to the audience’s wishes before the showrunners kill off all the people they shone a spotlight on in this episode. It’s hard to truly enjoy something when you feel like you’re being set up for a fall, ya know?  But overall, it was a fine episode to set up the epic battle next week.

The takeaways for me were: Jaime has an important role to play in ending the long night.  Dany’s whole worldview is going to have to be reconsidered unless of course she (or Jon) dies, making the whole “Who deserves the crown more?” a moot point.  Maybe she’ll even screw Jon over?  Tyrion will likely survive and I’m wondering if Bran shared something important with him during their chat.  That way, if Bran should perish, Tyrion will have some trump card of knowledge to share with the others.  Arya is probably toast – if not, then Gendry is. Brienne will die – for SURE!  Oh, and the crypts are the least safe place to be and some freaky deaky stuff is gonna happen down there next episode.

I would like to point out that we didn’t actually see the Night King standing outside Winterfell with his homies.  Like I mentioned earlier, I am reading so many different theories and one is that the Night King is splitting up his army, and he is heading straight to King’s Landing with his ice dragon to torch the city and turn its 1 million inhabitants into an army that nobody can match.  

Will all my death predictions come true?  Will the Night King fool us all and fly to Essos to kill the fire priestesses? Or will Melisandre suddenly pop up at the 11th hour to save the day?  Are there any other important theories I have yet to discover? I’m sure by next week we’ll know a lot more, and also be bawling our eyes out as Jaime tenderly holds a dying Brienne in his arms, who it turn holds a dying Thormund in hers.  It could happen, you guys.  I’ll see ya here next week for a grief group therapy session!

[awkwarddezzy]

Ignite

Pairing: Dan x Phil

Genre: friendship, romance, slight angst

TW: swearing, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 7,494

Summary: Hawaii: the state everyone knows as paradise. For Dan Howell, the label is far from what his life is truly like. When Phil transfers to Dan’s high school from Manchester, the two boys instantly become friends. But will the revelation of Dan’s hidden past affect their budding friendship? Phan HS AU.

Hey ya’ll! This is technically my first fanfic posting of 2017, although I already had this written back in 2016. I mentioned a handful of times in tags for my shitposting that I wrote a Phan-inspired story as part of my short story portfolio for my creative writing class last semester. I submitted said story for possible publication at my college’s local journal, so cross your fingers with me that it’ll make the cut. I mean, can you imagine a phanfic legitimately bring published?

My professor absolutely loved the story. Even though it was over the word limit (she set it as 4,000), she told me she didn’t mind the word count as long as the plot was good. Needless to say, I got an A on it. Hell, when we had to type an analysis about our stories, I specifically mentioned being inspired by Dan and Phil and how homogenous relationships are often undermined in young adult literature.

I’m proud of this baby. Aside from character names (because I didn’t wanna plagiarize), this is nearly word for word of that story. I guarantee this is different than any phanfics ever to exist. One, because the setting is in Hawaii (our professor gave us extra credit if we tied our story to Hawaii in some way since I do go to a community college in Oahu). Two, to make it personal, I made my Dan-inspired character Filipino (because I’m Filipino myself) and kept my Phil-inspired character British. In short, this is my story using the YouTubers I had in mind while writing the story. It���s basically a high school AU, which I’m used to writing when it comes to AU’s.

I finally got around to posting this in light of Phil’s birthday. I CAN’T BELIEVE OUR BELOVED ANGEL BEAN IS FINALLY 30. *screams* He’s getting old. We’re getting old. Jesus Christ, Phil’s finally reached the age of parenthood. It’s only a matter of time when we see Phil Jr’s walking around England lol.

Now on with the story!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When people use fire as a metaphor for love, I roll my eyes and silently think these people are delirious. They think love is a burning passion they allow themselves to consume them completely. Or they think love is a spontaneous combustion when two pairs of eyes are caught in a lingering stare for the first time. But those are the fools talking. Those people are blind to what fire really means.

Fire is despising the source of its ignition.

Fire is a glow you believed had completely faded, yet still remained raging within you.

Fire is a curse and a traitor, yet also a blessing and a helping hand.

Fire is what makes me fluctuate between being a dreamer and a realist.

~:~

He’s a needle in a haystack with his raven hair, cerulean eyes, and pale skin. The cafeteria is swarming with incoherent conversations between students coming in and out of the stuffy building. I stand stock still, lunch tray in hand, debating whether or not I should go talk to him.

My feet move toward the boy with no hesitation. He stares intently at me when I place my lunch tray on the table’s wooden surface and sit on the benched seat across from him.

We remain silent for several seconds before I blurt out, “I like your shirt.” He’s wearing a white t-shirt embedded with lyrics from a Panic at the Disco song.

“You like PATD?” His voice carries a heavy British accent.

“One of my favorite bands.”

A corner of his mouth curves slightly upward. “What other bands are you into?”

“Ummm… Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, All Time Low, Breaking Benjamin, Muse-”

“Whoa there. What are you, some Asian clone of me?”

I chuckle. “No, but that would be pretty epic.”

He grins. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who know Muse.”

Warmth seeps to my cheeks. “They’re one of the first bands I got into. I have a soft spot for their Origins of Symmetry album.”

“No way! That’s my favorite album too.”

I beam. Going to meet up with my friends doesn’t seem like a priority anymore. “So how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He picks up a carrot stick, dipping it into the blob of ranch dressing on the top right corner of his lunch tray, then taking a bite out of it. “I moved here from Manchester a couple weeks ago. You know, for a place where everyone want to vacation, it’s way different when you’re actually living there.”

“That’s paradise for ya. Tourists get beaches, fine accommodations, and hot hula girls. Locals get Pidgin, spam musubi, and a complex bus system.”

“I’m out of my element here.”

“You’ll learn to adjust.”

He finishes the rest of the carrot stick. “I’m Phillip by the way, but you can call me Phil.”

“Phil… got it.”

“Uh-huh. My entire first name makes me sound like a grandpa.”

I laugh. “You’re gonna be a grandpa someday anyway.”

“Hey, I’m still young! Lemme enjoy my teen years while I can.”

“Sure, Phillip.”

He sticks his tongue out to me playfully. “And what should I call you, Phil 2.0?”

“Well Mr. PATD, you can call me Dan. It’s short for Daniel.”

“Dan.” My name rolls off his lips in a way that sounds as if he has known me for years rather than a few minutes. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Perhaps the school year won’t be as boring as I thought it would be.

~:~

Sam, Louise, and PJ bombard Phil with questions when I introduce him to them after school that same day.

“What’s England like?”

“How do you like Oahu so far?”

“Have you tried a malasada yet?”

“What do you think about our school?”

“Why did you move here?”

“Have you ever met Emma Watson?”

“Guys! Geez, calm your tits.” I look toward Phil apologetically. “Sorry. We don’t get to meet a lot of new students who come from outside the island.”

“It’s okay.” Phil smiles shyly at my friends. “No one’s really tried to talk to me for more than two minutes till Dan approached me. I was afraid I’d be a loner for the entire year.”

PJ whistles. “Damn, Daniel. What happened to being antisocial?”

“I prefer the term introvert,” I retort.

“You haven’t made the first move in anything since you told Sam how you felt about her,” Louise says.

Phil glances between Sam and me. “You two are boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Sam loops her arm around my elbow, pressing her chest against the side of my body. “As of a couple weeks ago, yes.”

“I didn’t know that,” Phil says, giving me a scrutinizing gaze.

I rub the back of my head. “I thought it wasn’t important to mention until you got to meet my friends in person.”

“Ah.” He nods in understanding, but I detect a hint of a different emotion in his eyes. Disappointment? Disapproval? I internally shake my head. It’s probably my usual paranoia of students’ judgments whenever they see Sam and I together. Even though Sam has been my best friend for years, anyone outside my circle of friends haven’t fully comprehend why Sam prefers to be around PJ, Louise, and I. Her near flawless looks makes her more fitting for the popular crowd rather than the nerdy emo’s.

“Well then,” Louise chimes in, shoving my momentary doubts out of my head. “Who want to go to Starbucks?”

~:~

Phil gives me a tour of his house the weekend following the first week back to school. The moment I step inside the Lester residence, I’m astonished by how lively his home is compared to mine. There are houseplants in practically every corner of the house. Polaroid photos of his family are tacked to the walls of the living room. Upstairs, in Phil’s bedroom, he has various plushies littering the floor, a full-length poster of Sarah Michelle Geller on the wall behind his bed, and even a tiny cactus displayed on his bedside drawer. His twin-sized bed is covered with a green, blue, and purple checkered bedsheet, shades I think is fitting to his colorful personality.

“Sorry it’s a little messy in here,” Phil says. “I have a lot of stuff and my new room’s not as big as my old one in Manchester.”

“It’s fine. My room’s a bit messy too.”

He smiles, picking up a Totoro plushie and dropping it on his bed. “So what’s your flat like?”

“Flat?”

“Apartment.”

“Oh.” Reminder: start learning some British slang. “Not as great as yours. Roaches creeping on the floor at night. Shitty air conditioning. Noisy ass neighbors. At least my mom makes enough as a nurse to keep a roof over my head.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s… gone.”

He frowns. “Sorry to hear that.”

I respond with a curt nod. “But you’re free to come over next weekend if you want.”

His frown disappears, morphing back to the smile that he wore earlier. “That’ll be great.”

If only you knew just how much I miss him, I think. And hate him at the same time.

~:~

There’s a paper bag from Bath and Body Works on Phil’s bedroom floor when I stay over at the Lesters on a Saturday night in mid-October. I’ve been spending most of the weekend so far doing homework and catching up with episodes of Attack on Titan and JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Sam and Louise are busy rehearsing for a PowerPoint presentation for their Modern Hawaiian History class and PJ is helping his family prepare for his cousin’s debutante, so I’ve been spending the time outside of my apartment hanging out with Phil.

“What’s with the bag?” I ask.

“Oh this?” He picks up the paper bag and empties its contents, revealing three candles and a bottle of lotion. “Mum went to Pearlridge today, so I asked her to buy these for me.”

I scan over the candle labels: Pumpkin Spice, Apple Pie, and Marshmallow Fireside. “Never pegged you for a candle person.”

“It’s a thing that runs in my family.” He picks up one of the candles. “In their uni years, my dad confessed his feelings for my mum by spelling out ‘I love you’ with candles at a beach in Liverpool. Mum loved the gesture so much, and since then, Dad’s been getting her candles on every anniversary.”

“Your dad sounds like a complete romantic.”

He nods, placing the candle on his bed. “I think candles are an excellent representation of my parents’ marriage. Their love is a candle with a flame that’ll never die.”

“They must be really happy together.”

“Twenty years and still going strong.”

Bittersweet memories of my mom, dad, my 10-year-old brother Adrian, and me surface in my mind. Thanksgivings when my dad splurged on the turkey special from Golden Coin. Christmases when we woke up at 7 AM to open gifts while watching the Macy’s Christmas Day parade. Birthdays celebrated with dinners at Max’s Restaurant. Those days are a lifetime ago, days when I still looked forward to Sundays when Dad was off from work and gave me guitar lessons.

“Yeah…” Those days are a thing of the past. On the bright side, having an absent father taught me not to be naïve and fueled my appreciation for rock music.

As if sensing my distress, Phil says, “So… wanna play some Smash Bros?”

I grin. Crushing him in one of my video games is a healthy distraction I need from my vortex of childhood memories. “I’d be stupid not to.”

~:~

When Sam suggests for me to perform for the winter pep rally, the fears I buried when I started dating her crash through my mind like a wrecking ball.

“You’re kidding,” I say in a monotone voice. We’re on my bed, Sam laying down with her dyed dirty blonde hair fanned across my Pikachu pillow and me sitting cross-legged with my guitar settled on my lap. I was in the middle of playing “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol when Sam casually brought up the question.

“I’m not.” She moves into an upright position. “Think about it. Five minutes on stage with hundreds of students cheering your name. Phil, Peej, and Lou know how talented you are. Don’t you think it’s about time to let the entire school know too?”

“No.”

She sighs. “It’s your dad, isn’t it? Danny, just because your dad was a musician doesn’t mean you’ll make the same choices he did. Besides, if being at the center of attention isn’t for you, then the pep rally can be a one-time thing. Don’t let your potential go to waste.”

I bite the inside of my mouth. A part of me is itching to live out my dream of capturing people’s souls while I perform, but the other part of me is trembling at the thought of being in my dad’s shoes. Going through with this could open up a possibility of Sam and me splitting apart.

I can’t lose Sam. Even if she isn’t my girlfriend, I can’t imagine a future without her. The Earth can be a cruel planet; I can’t navigate through it without having someone who’s equally as confused about the world as I am by my side.

She curls her arms around my neck. “I know you’re scared, but can you do it for me? For one day, can I pretend to be your rock star girlfriend sitting in the audience as you play a song dedicated to me?”

“What song do you have in mind?”

“Hmmm… a song probably everyone knows, but still fits your style.”

“So… something from Ed Sheeran, Sam Smith, or Bruno Mars?”

“Yeah!” She stares at me with her puppy-dog eyes. “So will you do it?”

One pep rally won’t be the death of you. “I’ll… give it a shot.”

She squeals, peppering the side of my face with kisses. “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re gonna be great, Danny. Show those Mariah Carey wannabees that serenading isn’t dead yet.”

I laugh. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

~:~

Nerves rattle through my body when the student announcers call my name. The audience claps as I make my way onto the platform of the makeshift stage. Standing in front of the microphone stand with the Velcro strap holding my guitar against my abdomen, I position my fingers above the instrument’s strings. Looking out into the crowd, I spot Sam, Phil, PJ, and Louise grinning enthusiastically at me.

You’ll be fine. They’ll be proud of me no matter what happens.

I strum the opening notes of “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran. When I start to sing, my pre-performance jitters dissipates. I let my hands do the playing and the lyrics do the talking. I lose myself to the symphonious tune of the song, my heart beating rhythmically like a pendulum. Thoughts about my dad are knocked out of my head, replaced with a surge of joy as I think, Why didn’t I answer to the spotlight’s call sooner?

The gym fills with applause once my performance ends. My friends are on their feet, along with dozens of other juniors, upperclassmen, and even underclassmen.

I beam from ear to ear.

I’ve never felt so alive.

~:~

Hip-hop music pulsates across the spacious area of Chris Kendall’s house. Bodies grind on the open area of the living room where furniture was shoved aside to make room for a dance floor. Parties are definitely never on my agenda. I’m only here at Chris’s graduation party because PJ wanted to go for fun (it was an open invite), Sam and Louise wanted to go to have the full high school experience, and Phil wanted to see if a high school party in Hawaii is any different than the few he went to when he lived in England. Before my performance during the winter pep rally, I was someone that no one spared a second glance. Five months later and two more performances from the spring pep rally and junior prom under my belt, I get hellos from random students in-between class periods and invites to parties from popular students. So here I am, a red plastic cup filled with Pepsi in my hand (I have my values and know better than to take one sip of alcohol) while watching my friends dancing, breathing through my mouth to avoid sniffing the sickly scent of weed and cigarettes.

“Dan!” Phil stumbles out of the kitchen holding an empty Heineken bottle.

“Hey… Phil.” I finish the rest of my drink and toss the cup into one of the trash bags lying around next to the snack table. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am! Aren’t you?”

“If by watching people shamelessly doing things they might regret in the morning, sure.”

“Aw. Lighten up, mate!” His palm slaps the back of my shoulder. “Want me to get you a bottle?”

“I’ll pass… wait, how much have you had to drink?”

“Eh, couple bottles I think. Might go for a third.”

“No you aren’t.” I grab his wrist and drag him to the front door. When we’re outside, I lead him to the backyard. I don’t want to haul an intoxicated Phil back to his house. Perhaps some fresh air can sober him up.

I lay him down on his back on the grass, then sit down next to him. His mouth forms into a lazy smile.

“You look pretty, Dan.”

I laugh. “I’m not a girl, dude.”

“What a shame. You’d be my perfect Buffy.”

“You and your Buffy obsession.”

“Yeah… but I love you more than Buffy.”

My blood goes cold. He isn’t saying what I think he’s saying, is he?

Phil takes my silence as a sign for him to continue. “Why did I meet a perfect guy who’s taken? You’re so smart and talented and so good at video games. I had so much hope the first time we met that we could someday be something more, then I find out you have a girlfriend and I had to learn how to just be friends with an impossible dream.” He sighs. “Why did it have to be you I fell in love with?”

Suddenly, he takes a fistful of my shirt and yanks me down onto him. I fall on top of him, my face inches away from his.

“I… love you,” he mumbles before his eyelids flutter close.

I roll myself off from his body, then scramble to sit up and scoot away from him. Heat rushes to my face, my own body quivering from his words.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

I touch my lips. He may not have kissed me, but his words feel like he did.

~:~ One week has passed since Chris’s party.

There’s no one I can tell about Phil’s drunk confession. He has no recollection of what he told me, and I have no clue if what he said is true. There’s a likelihood it isn’t. People can say all sorts of unpredictable things when they’re shitfaced drunk and not mean any of it.

Yeah right. No one says “I love you” to me without being serious.

“Fancy playing Mario Kart while we wait for the others?” Phil asks. We’re sitting on the sofa in my living room, waiting for Sam, Louise, and PJ to arrive. The five of us aren’t in the mood of going out today, so we planned a casual indoor hangout in my apartment.

“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll go get us some drinks.”

“Grab me an iced tea, yeah?”

I smile. After living in Oahu for nearly a year, Phil gradually got himself addicted to Hawaiian Sun drinks. “You’re in luck. Mom bought a fresh stock just for you.”

I leave Phil to peruse my video game collection under the TV stand and head to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator door and grab two cans of Hawaiian Sun: an Iced Tea for Phil and a Lilikoi for me. Carrying the cans back into the living room, I’m putting the two drinks on the coffee table when I hear three knocks on the door.

That bus ride was quick. I dash to the front door. Upon unlocking it, the face that greets me is one I least expect to see.

“Daniel.” The way he speaks my name has the familiar tenderness that would gravitate me into his arms when I was in elementary school. But hearing his voice now is a thousand needles stabbing at my heart all at once. My lungs shrivel at the pain scorching my chest.

I can’t breathe. My vision is blurring from months of pent-up resentment. Not knowing what to do, I back away and rush to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I collapse on the floor and bury my fingers in my hair. This cannot be happening to me.

A few minutes later, I hear the door swing open.

“Mate!” Phil kneels down in front of me, his face contorted into a concerned expression. “You look like rubbish.”

“No shit.”

“That guy at the door told me he’s your father. Is it true?”

I remove my hands from my head. How he could be staying so goddamn calm? He should be furious at me for lying to him, not composed and acting like I didn’t drop a bomb on him.

“He is,” I whisper.

“You said he was gone.” “He was, but he may as well be dead to me.”

“Why? What did he do to you?”

I swallow my anger threatening to rise again. “He left me, alright? He left my family for some woman named Erica he met on the streets while we were on vacation for the summer in the Philippines when I was nine. They were contacting each other behind our backs after we left and Mom caught ‘em together at Ala Moana a year later when Erica came to visit him. Mom and Dad ended up getting divorced the summer before I was in 7th grade, just shy of my 12th birthday. He left for the Philippines afterward and he’s been living there with Erica since.”

Phil doesn’t immediately respond, just staring at me in shock. I use his silence to continue my rant.

“Music is important to me because of my dad. He played all sorts of gigs when he was my age, but gave up his musician dream so he could support my mom when she was pregnant with me. He taught me how to play a guitar and got me into rock music when he told me rock is music in its rawest form.” I direct my attention to the vinyl cover of Muse’s Origins of Symmetry album nailed next to the window. “Dad’s the reason why I love that album. He bought it for me on my 7th birthday. I listened to that record on repeat after the divorce and was what got me through the first few year without him.”

“And you hadn’t seen him since the divorce,” Phil concludes.

I shake my head. “He came once during the holidays when I was in 9th grade. I pretty much avoided talking to him the whole time.”

The wake of a wildfire is outside of my bedroom. He’s the cause of why my family is a mess. He chose another woman over us. How can I forgive the man who destroyed my picture-perfect family? How can I let go of the hurt I’m still feeling four years later?

“I don’t blame you for not telling me,” Phil says.

I turn my head to look at Phil, vulnerability running through my veins. “I’m a horrible person. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I kept it a secret because I didn’t want you to know how crappy my life really is.”

“Again, not blaming you.” He drapes his arm across my shoulders. “I get that you felt betrayed by your dad, and nothing can erase the pain you still feel. But he’s out there right now. He flew whatever miles it is from the Philippines to Hawaii to see you. Nothing’s hunky-dory between you two, but you can still fix things with him. I saw how crushed he looked when you ran off on him like that. He wants to make things right. I’m not saying you should outright forgive him, but I think you should give him a second chance. Let him be a father to you while he still has healthy lungs and isn’t in a wheelchair.”

I look into his eyes, his blue orbs looking back at me with a softness that douses my anger away. As tension rolls off my shoulders, the memory of his drunk confession flashes through my mind.

“Why did it have to be you I fell in love with?”

Did Dad or Erica ever speak the exact same sentence to each other at one point in their relationship? What was it about Erica that drew my dad to him? How did Dad know he loved Erica more than my mom? I don’t know the answer to those questions. I don’t know why Mom didn’t fight for her right to remain as Dad’s wife. I don’t know how Erica’s family reacted when they learned about her relationship with a married man. I don’t know much about their relationship, other than how they met and how they loved each other to a point of sacrificing their family’s trust to be with each other.

The clarity hits me like a curveball.

Love is an emotion that can’t be tamed. It can blind us, be an intense slap to the face, hurt us in any way possible, but it can never leave us completely empty. It’s why I’m still affected by my dad’s choices. It’s why I still prefer rock over any other genre of music, even when it was Dad’s preferred music style. It’s why there’s still fire raging inside me whenever I think about Dad. I still love him amidst the ache he imprinted in my heart. It’s why, as I gaze into Phil’s vibrant eyes that always seem to contain a gentleness I usually don’t see in males, I finally understand what I’ve been fearing all along. I wasn’t afraid of thinking about the past and making the same wrong choices as my dad; I was afraid of listening to the other side of a story and discovering things that may have been right in front of me all along.

“Go talk to him,” he murmurs, drawing his arm away from me. The loss of his friendly touch leaves a dull ache in my chest.

It’s time to face the music.

“Mind if you come with me?”

“Of course. Did you think I was planning to let you face him alone?”

Fireflies stir in my stomach. Once I deal with the person outside this room, I’ll think about what these fireflies mean. I don’t know why the fireflies popped up unexpectedly, but I sort of like it.

Phil helps me stand, staying close to me as I open the door. We walk into the living room, where I find Dad sitting on the sofa. I take a deep breath, my hand taking purchase on Phil’s arm. His presence is my gravity, helping me to control negativity in my emotions. If I’m going to make an effort to patch things up, I can’t go berserk if I feel the slightest agitation.

“Dad?”

I hear his breath hitch when he turns his head to the direction of my voice. Same dark chocolate eyes. Same unruly brunette hair. Same mole marked on the ridge of his nose. I’m looking at an older version of myself, albeit as someone wiser that has seen more of the world. That, and I can’t stand my natural messy hair. I can’t leave the house without using my hair straightener.

“Anak,” he says softly.

The fireflies glow for a brief second.

“It’s okay,” Phil whispers. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Dad glances toward Phil. “This is your friend, right?”

Phil gives an awkward wave at Dad. “Hi. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier. I’m Phillip, Phil for short.”

“Phil … it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Howell.”

I can’t help the low chuckle that escapes my lips. “This isn’t Pride and Prejudice, dude.”

Phil laughs. “What? This is a momentous occasion, Dan. This is more nerve-wracking than making a first impression to my girlfriend’s parents.”

“You never even had a girlfriend.”

“I will one day.”

For some reason, I’m a bit upset by his response. So did his drunk confession mean nothing? Or is he making an Oscar-worthy ruse to cover up his feelings? My effort to analyze his emotions is only confusing me further.

Dad clears his throat. Right. Dad first, Phil later.

“Anyway-” I say, “Dad, what are you doing here all of a sudden? If you’re looking for Mom, she won’t be home from work till around six.”

“I’m aware of that. I actually wanted to talk to you first, if it’s okay,” Dad replies.

“Fine, but Phil stays with us.”

“I see no problem with that.”

Phil and I make our way over to the sofa, my hand still on Phil’s arm. Dad moves to give us room, leaving me to sit in the middle so Dad is to my left and Phil is to my right.

“Where’s Erica?” I begin.

Dad shakes his head. “I asked her to come, but she thought it would be best for me to be here alone.”

“How long will you stay?”

“A week, two weeks at the most.”

“Dad…” I move my hand from Phil’s arm to his jean-covered thigh. “Ummm… this might sound out of the blue, but how did you know you were in love with Erica?”

“Oh… to be honest, Jessica was the reason why,” he tells me sheepishly.

“Mom?” I say incredulously. “But… how?”

He smiles, leaning back on the sofa. “In many ways, Erica is a lot like your mother. She put her studies first, cared about her family more than anything else, and worked hard to give herself a good future. She became an attorney to provide for her family, and she cherishes her job so much, though she told me more than once she felt she was missing something from her life. She didn’t know what it was until she reunited with her childhood friend.”

“Who was that?”

“Your mother.”

“Wait… what? I thought Mom and Erica were strangers until you got together with Erica.”

“Your mother and I only said that because we thought you weren’t ready for the truth.”

“Dad! I was 11! I watched enough episodes of Maalala Mo Kaya to know what reality is about.”

He looks at me forlornly. “I know that now, anak. I’m sorry.”

I sigh. “I’m turning 17 next week. Whatever secret you’re keeping from me, I wanna hear it.”

He nods. The story he tells me drastically alters my perspective of Dad.

Mom and Erica knew each other because they were best friends when they were kids and lost touch with each other after Mom immigrated from Cebu to Honolulu when she was eight.

Dad courted Erica in high school. When he got accepted into an exchange program for the University of Hawaii in Manoa, he made a promise with Erica to go on a date with her once he graduated from college and moved back home.

During his third year at UH Manoa, he met Mom during an open mic night at a bar in Waikiki. Mom was in UH Manoa’s nursing program and skipped a night of studying to hang out with her friends at the bar that Dad had his gig at.

Mom and Dad became friends, which gradually turned into love.

Dad was guilty about breaking his promise to Erica, but Erica understood and she wished the best for him and Mom.

Parenthood treated Mom and Dad well when they had me and Adrian.

Then came the Philippine vacation.

Dad hadn’t communicated with Erica since he told her about his relationship with Mom, so he was surprised when he bumped into her at a Chow King restaurant while buying lunch for Mom, Adrian, and me. They exchanged phone numbers and used long-distance phone-lines for communication over the course of a year, where they found themselves revisiting their past and falling in love with each other all over again.

During winter break of my 5th grade year, Erica lied to her parents about wanting to spend Christmas and New Years with a friend in America so she could see Dad, even if it was just for a few days and a majority of her time would be spent cooped up in her hotel room at Ala Moana Hotel. On that fateful day when Mom saw Dad and Erica together, she was at Ala Moana Shopping Center to do some last-minute shopping while she supposedly thought Dad was helping my Tito Kevin pick out a gift for my Aunt Elizabeth. As soon as Mom exited from Macy’s, she witnessed Dad and Erica holding hands while sitting at one of the tables outside the neighboring Starbucks. Erica saw Mom and that was when all hell broke loose. Mom tried not to cause a scene at Ala Moana, but she had a crying fit when she learned that Dad’s mistress and her childhood friend, Erica Bautista, were the same woman.

That night, when I overheard my parents arguing but Mom told us she and Dad were disagreeing on something about bills, it was really about Mom’s reaction to finding out about the affair.

For months, they kept the issue a secret from Adrian and me. Mom swallowed her pride, staying in the sidelines as she encouraged Dad to go after his true love. The issue loomed like a raincloud over their heads once Dad chose Erica over Mom, and that raincloud lingered until Mom and Dad finally told me about Erica and their mutual decision to file for divorce.

Unfortunately, that raincloud only transferred over me, towering over my own head and remaining there to this day.

“Damn” is all I can say when Dad finishes speaking.

The pieces are coming together.

It was never supposed to be Mom and Dad.

If Dad never met Mom, it would have been Dad and Erica.

It’s a classic case of how wrong timing can affect even the strongest of relationships.

“Fucking hell,” Phil breathes. Hearing him swear surprises me. He rarely swears, and when he does, it’s when he’s incredibly emotional about something.

“I didn’t tell you this because I thought you might dislike Erica more if I told you the truth,” Dad tells me.

Everything coming out of Dad’s mouth sheds more authenticity to the entire situation. All this time, Dad was never at fault. It wasn’t his fault that Mom was an intervention who prevented him from keeping his promise to Erica. It wasn’t his fault for reaching a point where he had to choose between his wife and kids over a woman his heart subconsciously still yearned for. It wasn’t his fault for allowing his heart to direct him down a path that led him to hurt those he cared about. Everything happens for a reason, and it’s the reason why I’m existing in the first place. If his life went according to plan, I wouldn’t have ever taken my first breath in this world.

Love isn’t always kind. It isn’t an easy stroll through the park or a cookie to steal from a cookie jar. It’s having to pay 75 cents for a gumball from one of those machines in supermarkets or trying to find parking during Black Friday at any mall. Love always comes with a price. For Dad, the price for his happiness with one woman is the trust he has from those he loves the most.

“That was a possibility,” I say. “Or I could’ve appreciated her role in your life. We’ll never know. Either way, it wouldn’t have changed how much you love Erica.”

Dad nods in agreement. “Erica hasn’t changed how much I love you, Adrian, and your Mom. It was wrong of me to leave you how I did, but I’m here to right my wrong.”

The fire in my chest blazes more furiously than it ever has before. Flames send the fireflies in my stomach glimmering in a flurry of excitement, sending my emotions in a tailspin.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a good father ever since I moved to the Philippines,” Dad continues. “It wasn’t my intention for you to think I didn’t care about you anymore, but it was my way to give you space. You were angry at me, and I believed distance was the solution to ease your anger. When you refused to speak to me when I spent Christmas with you on your first year of high school, I realized the distance led you to resent me more. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, anak. I’m tired of being away from you. My life may be in the Philippines, but my heart belongs here with our family.”

My insides melt. These are the words I longed to hear Dad say. I’d be a fool if I ignored my subconscious whispering how I should stop being hostile and allow my dad to make up for lost time.

“Did you steal that line from a Justin Bieber song?” I joke.

Hope swims in Dad’s eyes. “So you forgive me?”

“Not… exactly,” I answer hesitantly. “But we have two weeks. We can go around the island like we used to.”

I’m not looking at the enemy anymore. For the first time in years, I’m looking at my idol, the man who rooted my dedication to music, the greatest hero I’ve ever known.

A smile cracks on Dad’s face. “Your old man is looking forward to that.”

~:~

Summers brings goodbyes, hope, and refreshing starts. Four years ago, summer was bidding a reluctant farewell to the perfect family I had. One year ago, summer was sharing my first kiss with a girl who meant more to me than my best friend. This summer, a new chapter with a man I granted a second shot at redemption opened up, and an opportunity to follow my heart like every protagonist in a cheesy YA novel is ushering in a wave of anticipation of what the vast unknown will bring.

The sky is enveloped by a murky blanket of gleaming stars and a moon illuminating the night. Sitting cross-legged on the rooftop of my apartment complex, I fish out another roll of Smarties from my jacket pocket. I unravel the plastic packaging and shove pieces of the colorful candy into my mouth, savoring its sweet, tangy mixture. Aside from the occasional car zooming along the streets at midnight, I relish the relative silence. My mind is still reeling over all the things that occurred since Dad showed up at the front door of my apartment.

The two weeks that Dad was here was a hodgepodge of family beach trips and father-son visits to various music stores around the island. He shared tales of his life with Erica in Manila, and in return, I shared my memories about Sam and my friends over the last four years. Those two weeks were us being mismatched pieces slowly fusing together to create the complete puzzle, with several holes that are yet to be filled. By the time he flew back to the Philippines, I was closer to the point of one hundred percent forgiving him. It’ll take me months before I can truly move on from the past, but I’m getting there. Time will tell when that day will come.

After Dad left, I took the time to figure out my feelings for Sam and Phil. Before I met Phil, I thought Sam was my endgame. I saw a future with her after high school. I visualized the two of us moving in together, having a beachside wedding, honeymooning in Paris, and raising our kids with our brown or black hair and brown eyes. But after Chris’s party and the long conversation I had with Dad, I questioned where my heart belonged. Sam was everything a boy could ever want for a girlfriend, someone who Mom was ecstatic about someday watching me say “I do” to, someone who filled that empty void when Dad left. Phil, on the other hand, was everything I never knew existed as an option for me, someone who enamored me since day one and opened up parts of me that I never showed to anyone aside from Sam, PJ, and Louise, someone who was the reason why I willingly mended my relationship with Dad.

I was confused. Do I choose safety with the anchor that has always kept me grounded, or do I choose happiness with the candle who sparked an incandescence within me that not even Sam or my friends were able to light up?

A few hours ago, on a park bench with the sun dipping down in the horizon, I broke up with Sam. It was a difficult choice that I nearly backed down from doing, but it was one Dad would be proud of me for doing. Being in a position of dumping my girlfriend made me understand why it was hard for Dad to divorce Mom. True love isn’t measured by years or the number of people that approve of the relationship; true love is the person who makes your heartbeat stutter and makes you smile to any love song that plays on the radio, no matter how cliché the lyrics are. Love is the fire that ignites your soul and what makes you the best person you can be.

Despite the tears that were shed, Sam understood. In fact, she had a hunch that Phil harbored feelings for me. She knew it was a matter of time before I caught on and braced herself for the feasible day where I could return his feelings. Following a friendly hug, we left the park knowing that even though we aren’t a couple anymore, our friendship will never fade. We’ve always been there for each other; we won’t let our breakup drive a wedge between us.

“Dan?”

I turn around. Phil stands behind me, his ruffled raven hair reflected under the moonlight and his blue irises flickering with uncertainty. We’re heading back to school next week, so my friends and I are spending our last few days of summer break with a weekend-long sleepover in my apartment.

“Yo.”

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He nods, then moves to sit directly across from me, mirroring my sitting position.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

I chew the remaining chunks of Smarties in my mouth and swallow. “How can I? We’re seniors. We have one more year in high school before we’re thrust into adulthood and we’re little fishes trying to swim away from huge-ass sharks. Not that I’m ready to grow up, but my teen years are moving way too quick and I need time to slow down just a bit.”

He chuckles. “True. I’m not ready for senioritis to bite me in the bum yet. But I think that’s not what you’re really worried about.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You have a few candy wrappers next to you. You don’t binge-eat sweets unless you’re thinking really hard about something.”

He’s right. My sweet tooth is my version of stress-eating.

“You’re not wrong,” I say. “Truth is, you’re kinda the reason why I’m this close to getting a cavity.”

“How come?”

“Well… how else do you cope with realizing you love someone who’s so close yet so far beyond your grasp?”

“What? Dan, what Shojo anime have you been watching lately?”

“None. I just… God, I’ll just say it. I like you, Phil. I really, really like you and I might even love you, but I don’t know if I do yet ‘cause it’s too soon to tell.” I bend my legs so my knees are curled to my chest and my chin is on my kneecaps. “Fate is so screwed up. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but I do. You’re strangely interesting and you get me so well. You’re the ying to my yang. You complete me, and I can’t live with the idea of seeing you with someone else. It’s so selfish of me since I already had Sam, but there’s something about you that wants you more than a friend. And… yeah.”

He blinks. “Whoa.”

“I know. Now let me down easy so we can forget I said any of that and I can start dealing with rejection.”

“Rejection? Dan, what are you, blind? I’ve loved you the moment you approached me and said, and I quote ‘I like your shirt.’”

“You still remember that?”

“How can I? It was love at first sight.”

“Love at first sight? This isn’t the 19th century.”

“Not according to the swiping on Tinder.”

I laugh. Being with Phil is easy. He’s carefree and doesn’t mind my wit. Even Sam has her occasions of being offended by my snark.

“I’m serious though. I do love you.” He leans closer, his hand reaching out to rest on top of mine. “I love how you can speak like a wise old philosopher. I don’t know how I went most of my life without you, because you’re what I was missing out on all this time. You came into my life with a purpose. I don’t know what I did to deserve you as a friend, but whatever it is, having you around made my life so much better.”

I look down at our entwined fingers. Holding his hand is comforting, a gesture that should be so wrong yet feels so right. This is what tadhana is. Destiny works in mysterious ways. As our fingers entwine, I’m reminded by how touching him soothed me when I spoke to Dad. He was my gravity then, and he’s my gravity now. The gravity is a force that’s much more powerful than I foresaw.

“Are you sure about this?” I murmur. “I’ve already hurt Sam. I don’t want to hurt you too if this doesn’t work out.”

“It will.” His eyes sharpen with conviction. “I won’t let anyone ruin what we have. Even if the universe hates what we are, I won’t ever hate you.” He releases my hands and maneuvers them to caress my cheeks. “I love you, Dan.”

I nod. Someday, I’ll be able to repeat those three words back to him.

Because when our lips meet and my stomach is churning with gentle waves, I’m certain that what Phil and I have is a fire that’ll never be extinguished.

What we have is real and here to stay.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

For any of you that read any of my former phanfics, I used a few lines from The Story of Us and Don’t You Wonder. I couldn’t resist using my one-liners while I wrote this.

Anak means “my son/daughter” and tadhana means “destiny.” I can’t speak Filipino fluently, but I do understand some of the language.

Maalala Mo Kaya is an ongoing Filipino TV series that showcases real-life stories of celebrities and average people like us. Dan’s family background was highly inspired by numerous eps I watched of MMK involving broken families.

Hope ya’ll enjoyed this! I had fun incorporating aspects of the “local” life in Hawaii, especially since the release of Pokemon Sun and Moon. If you haven’t tried a malasada, you should. There’s a reason why Hau loves ‘em. Don’t give spam such a hard time, because I eat spam musubi’s often and they’re delicious. And the bus system? Trust me, if you aren’t sure familiar with public transportation involving the bus system, you’re easily gonna get lost. Heaven knows how many tourists I witnessed questioning what bus to catch. Hell, even a local like me sometimes has to consult Google Maps to figure out what bus to ride.

Originally, I approached this story with a love triangle angle, but it was my professor who recommended I should try focusing on a father-son relationship instead. Best decision ever, because writing the story that way felt way more real.

~ AA

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I'm off to do some spooktacular writing at a NaNoWriMo event, but thought I would do some updating first. Hope you all have a spine-chilling evening!

CHAPTER EIGHT

                                           ~ x JUDGMENT x ~

Sae Niijima was silent for a few long, painfully quiet seconds as Makoto's voice faded out in the small interrogation room. Staring across at her sister uncomfortably, hand at her chin as she mulled over the entirety of this situation.

"What?" Makoto finally asked.

"The way you described that…" Her eyes lowered. They were flinty and her tone harsh, but the words themselves vulnerable if listened to closely enough. "I think I've robbed you of a normal home environment. That might be why you're going down this path."

"And what 'path' is that?" She folded her hands on the table, sitting up straight. "The wrong one?"

"Yes. And no. Just… a more difficult one than I would have chosen for my baby sister."

The student council president's eyes darkened. "I'm not a baby."

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

"Maybe not. But it's how you've always treated me. I used to buy into that, you know; used to accept that I was a burden on you. But it's not true, is it? Because I do as much for our household as you do at my present status. Going to school is my job, and I'm great at it."

Teeth clenching, she fired back at her, "But it isn't a job that contributes to our household right now. Even if I may have been harsh with you, I need you to understand how difficult my life is, and why I let it drain me as much as I do. You think I want to be a public prosecutor because it's 'fun'? This is hard work, Makoto."

"Of course," she sighed wearily. "And I know that already. You don't have to shove it in my face every few days so I don't forget."

"That's… not what…" Sae turned away, staring into the corner. "Fine. So you're a lesbian now, hm? That easy? One little crush moment and you make up your mind to-"

"I don't want to hear that from you," she fired at her hotly. "No, this is not something I 'decided'. You taught me it doesn't work that way, and I'm not trying to make it work that way for me. Just figuring myself out."

Waving her hands, she said, "Alright, alright. Enough about that for now. You're honestly telling me that you and Sadayo Kawakami never had sexual relations in that love hotel room? How am I supposed to actually believe that?"

Makoto sighed, all the ire leaving her expression as she slumped down in her chair. "Because I'm your sister. But maybe you can't trust me anymore, Sis. I don't know."

"Well, you must see how it looks. And I would prefer to trust you than not to trust you, but you have made that quite a bit more difficult than it was before I found out more than I bargained for."

"Right. About that… I guess you're still waiting for me to get you caught up, aren't you? I might as well…"

                                          ~ x The Priestess x ~

Miss Kawakami left Hotel Juliet not long after that. I insisted several times that she should take the extra ¥1000 for all the trouble, even if not for the foot rub, but she refused very firmly. Despite how much she needed the money, it seemed she still wanted to earn every last yen. Which is just the kind of person she was.

No, I did not purchase her stockings. Why would anyone do that?

So now we had a problem. I knew a secret about her, and she knew one about me. Granted, neither of us was the type of person who would use it for blackmail purposes, but it still made us responsible for keeping each other's secret under wraps. it was going to make interacting with each other very interesting from then on.

But before that, I had something else to follow up with. Or should I say, someone else.

"How'd it go?!" Ann demanded the moment the phone line connected. "C'mon, gimme those deets!"

"Not here," I whispered. "Meet me at the Ore No Beko - the beef bowl place, on Central Street?"

"Mkay, I'll see you there!"

The walk wasn't terribly far. I felt stupid leaving the love hotel in my "guy" costume, so I ducked into an alley and stowed the rest in the shoulder bag I brought along exactly for that reason. The chest bindings were still annoying but I would just have to put up with them until I went to the bathroom again.

Not long after that, Ann showed up. Even despite the late hour, there she was. I began to feel really lucky that we had become that close in such a short period of time.

"Hey, girl," she called excitedly as she pushed through the crowd over to my corner. Now she was wearing a red varsity jacket over a blue button-up with a white skirt. Three guesses whether she looked cute wearing it. Go on, guess.

"Hi."

As she bounced into the seat next to me, I moved my tea out of the way. "Hoowee! I ran all the way to the train, and then all the way here from the station!"

"That sounds like you," I chuckled in a quiet voice.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so. There's hot gossip, right?" Something must have shown in my face, because she leaned a little closer. "Hey… Mako-chan, what's the matter?"

"We should order. And then I'll tell you everything."

We ordered. And then I told her everything - well, everything except the teacher's identity and details that would expose that on accident. Luckily, Beko only seemed to get busier at night instead of emptier, so nobody could really pay attention to our conversation over all the noise. Or wanted to, I'm sure.

Amazingly enough, Ann took it pretty well. She just sat there and nodded, listening and glancing away. Well… at least I thought she was taking it well. What if she just couldn't hear me?

"Cool… um, you think you might be gay?"

So much for her not listening. "No idea," I sighed - then we paused while the bowls were sat in front of us. They smelled amazing, and we both inhaled the savoury aroma of the seasoned meat deeply before we broke our wooden chopsticks apart and dug in. Ann had opted to forego the egg - which I know is because she's trying to watch her figure for modelling - but I felt like I needed it after the night I had. Comfort food.

"Hmmhggh," she sighed a couple of minutes later, once our bellies were half-full of rice and beef and onion. "Geeze Louise, that really hit the spot!"

My lips twitched into a smile. "What is 'geeze Louise'? I don't know that one."

"Just something from the States." Stirring her bowl and staring into its depths, she began, "So…"

"So?"

"Well… you're into this teacher now."

"Hey, I am not," I tried to head her off. "Well… not for sure. But she is pretty, and um… and I liked talking to her woman-to-woman, once we got past all the… other stuff."

Smirking as she leaned closer, she muttered, "She bathed you, huh? That's a lot of 'other stuff'. Plus that sexy footrub!"

"Since when are footrubs 'sexy'?!"

"C'mon," she chuckled as she took a sip of her aloe drink - another healthy choice. Made me feel really self-conscious about my melon soda, but at least I had some tea before she got there. "Footrubs are like, the truest expression of love, right? Anybody can kiss a cute girl or boy on the lips, but saying 'I like you so much I'm gonna touch your stinky feet to make you feel better' is just… the real shit! Totes selfless! Right?!"

Laughing weakly, I focused on my beef for a second or two, purely to avoid thinking too hard about whether or not she was right. Because if she was… a lot of the comments Kawakami made during and after the massage were even more telling than I thought. Which was bad.

Mistaking my silence for sadness, she sighed and put down her chopsticks. "Hey, I'm sorry. You're freaking out, right? I'd be freaking out."

"Well… it's a quiet freak-out."

"Uh-huh. Um… you said you don't know if this is just a weird thing or if it's really who you are. And like, I know in Japan it's 'weird' to like other girls, but it's not like that in the West! Like, what's her name? The one who was the spacy Disney fish… man, I can't remember right now. But she's a big gay icon, and she's had a wife for years! So it's like, real there, not a little kid thing."

I absorbed that as best I could through the filter of Ann's bubbly personality and meandering thought processes. "Yeah. Problem is, I am in Japan. Not over there. And here, people are going to think I'm either immature, or a pervert."

"I don't think you're a pervert." When I glanced over at her, those baby blues were burning holes right through me as she smiled. "You did this whole thing just to make sure she wasn't hurting that student, and to make sure she wasn't being hurt, either. Just because you ended up crushing on her… it's not a bad thing."

"No?" Screwing up my courage, or what I could find of it, I asked her, "You're not… uncomfortable?"

"Huh? No way! I mean, it's not like I had to watch you two or whatever."

"I meant sitting next to me. Knowing I might like girls."

"Oh." Her eyes glanced up and down. "Well… you might be a lesbian, but you're not a creep. Not all guys are Kamoshida, right? This is the same thing." Then she laughed and waved a hand back and forth as she added, "N-not that I'm saying all other lesbians are creeps! Probably none of 'em are! Like, I meant the opposite!"

"Okay, calm down," I chuckled, bumping her with my elbow. It worked; she relaxed a little, cheeks a tiny bit rosy. "But, um… thanks, Ann. Really. I can't even believe this is happening to me, and… I'm really relieved you're not upset that I'm… different."

Suddenly my face was being yanked around to look at her, so she was sandwiching my cheeks between both of her hands. "Mako-chan. Did you forget what our after school job is? Like, you wanting to make out with one of your teachers ain't that crazy."

"Ann…" It must have been the relief in my voice, because she gulped. "Hm?"

"Ooh… okay, it does make that sound a little different, though," she said nervously as she let go of my face. "Never had a gay girl say my name like that."

"I didn't say I was gay for certain!" I hissed at her. "Would you let me figure this out on my own?!"

Her head was already tilting thoughtfully. "Do you think that's what it's going to be what it's like when a boy finally asks me out, and he says my name as we stare into each other's eyes under the moonlight?"

"I'm not a boy!"

"You were for a few hours. And you still have no boobs right now!"

"ANN!"

                                          ~ o ~

By the time we had polished off our food and exited the restaurant, the topic of my burgeoning sexuality had gotten a little old. So we went back to discussing Miss Kawakami. The warm night combined with the warm food in our stomachs made us yearn for the cool underground of the subway station as we chattered back and forth.

"I wish I knew who it was," Ann sighed. "Especially… like, I keep wanting to guess. I stopped myself from doing it at least six times."

"Who would you guess?" I asked curiously as we jogged down the stairs. "I'm granting you permission now."

"Huh? Oh, um… well, I really can only think of Miss Chouno and Miss Kawakami. I don't think many of the other teachers could pull off a maid costume at all."

"O-oh?" I gasped, uncomfortable at how close she was.

"Well… Ms. Usami might be pretty cute behind those glasses. And with that wig you mentioned. Kinda hard to tell."

Relaxing just the tiniest bit, I said, "Okay. I was just curious who you would guess; I still promised not to tell anybody. Even though if I was going to tell, it would be you."

That might have been the biggest smile I ever saw on Ann Takamaki's face. And she regularly smiled bright enough to put the sun to shame.

"Thing is," she finally said as we waited for the train, "I still have no idea what to tell you. How are you supposed to actually go out with her if she's your teacher? I mean, in half a year you could ask her out for real; she wouldn't be your teacher anymore once you're off to university. Right?"

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Wow, I hadn't even… thought about that." Then I deflated, staring down at the dirty platform. "But isn't it still a little… unpleasant? Some eighteen-year-old crawling all over an adult?"

"I doubt you would 'crawl' on her like that," Ann laughed. "But I get what you mean. Just… I know this is some huge, brand new thing. You're still figuring it out. But if she ends up making you happy, then… you owe it to yourself to go for it! Don't let anybody tell you what you need besides your own heart!"

"Ann," I laughed. But the earnestness in her expression stopped me short. "Ann… you really think that? I should date my teacher?"

"Not 'your teacher'. You should date… Becky. Or whatever Becky's real name is - you don't have to tell me. But if you ever feel like you n-"

My hand pressed into her mouth. "Stop, stop. Thank you. But yeah, I guess I have a lot of thinking to do. What am I going to do about this situation with her working herself to death for those two awful people? That on top of me being attracted to her is… the whole thing is a mess."

"UGH! I wish I knew who it was - my advice would be better!" When I glared, she held up a hand, eyes closed. "Don't tell me. That wasn't me trying to get you to cave, just being frustrated that I can't help more."

"Sure, sure." Suddenly, I threw my arms around her. I wasn't used to doing that, but maybe it was time I started putting in more effort in that regard. "Thanks, Ann. You're an incredible friend."

After only a brief hesitation, she hugged back. "Hey, it's okay. I got you." There was no holding back because I might be gay, no jokes. Just firm acceptance. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

                                          ~ x JUDGMENT x ~

"Well, that is wonderful to hear," Sae sighed wearily, rubbing her temples. "But having a supportive friend doesn't answer the question at hand. We're supposed to be talking about the nature of your relationship with Sadayo Kawakami. If all you did was rub her feet once, then I suppose I can overlook any allegations of misconduct with a student under her care."

The younger Niijima shifted in her seat, trying to abate her tension and discomfort. "I was hoping you would do that anyway. As a favour to me."

"You know I can't do that. The law is the law, and you are one of her students. Even if you're old enough to decide for yourself who you date."

"I am?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yes. I might be your legal guardian, but…" With a helpless shrug, she added, "All I can do is tell you it's unwise. After that, the choice is all yours."

"Dating women, or dating Sadayo?"

"Both. Unwise specifically because she's so much older than you, but also because she is a sex worker. Regardless," she rushed ahead when she saw Makoto was about to protest, "of whether or not her sexual activities in her job as Delivery Health maid are minimal, and rarely utilised. It's still not nothing, and you could wind up with an infection. You're my responsibility, and that includes making sure you don't get sick."

"Well…" Dipping her head, she admitted, "You have a point. And I do appreciate you looking out for me, Sis. But I would put my love for someone before any worry about risks like that. Not saying I 'love' Sadayo; just clarifying my priorities."

Sae picked up her pen and began clicking over and over. Just a nervous tick to help distract herself from being unduly upset. "Fine, fine. I suppose that's… admirable, in a foolish way. But as interesting as it is, I don't know why you bothered telling me about this conversation with Takamaki."

The truth was, she was jealous of the blonde. Ann got to freely and openly offer Makoto her support in a way Sae never could; she didn't get to be the 'big sister' anymore. Now she had to be her parent, until such a time as Makoto grew up and left the house - entered the workforce of Japan for real. Even then, she would probably always have to look out for her best interests for the rest of her life.

"It will be important later. And… I'm sorry."

Sae's eyebrow went up. "Sorry? For what?"

"That I can't simply let you believe all I've done with Sadayo is letting her bathe me and paying her back with a massage," she went on in a near-silent voice. "There's definitely more, and I promised you the whole story. So yeah, sorry about this in advance, but… I have to keep going."

Heart sinking down into the floor, she whispered, "Very well. Continue."

                                          To Be Continued…