#local man slept 16 hours last night and is still exhausted

[killbaned]

ok i saw down in bed to get comfy and now i’m kinda like.

sims? maybe i have enough energy to play the sims???

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 1] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: Low budget yandere for my greasy king. This concept has definitely been done before, but I couldn’t resist. This is my first non-smut on this acct and I’ll be so sad if it bombs 😭

Title from the Hozier song: “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: light yandere, minor injury, angst, Shiggy likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep. [In later parts but not in this one: violence, sex, more yandere, 18+]

You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. Maybe that’s why you became an ER nurse—from the first abandoned puppy you brought home as a kid to the patients you refuse to give up on even when it looks hopeless, you’ve never been able to turn a blind eye when something needs your help. Sometimes (times like this) you wish you knew better. It’s hard enough to take care of yourself these days.

Today’s shift was…what, 16 hours? 17? The 20-minute walk from the bus stop to your apartment building feels like it takes twice that long in the rain. God, you need a shower. And a decent night’s sleep, preferably for at least 12 hours. Tomorrow’s your day off, and you’re ready to take advantage of it the best way you know how: Netflix, soju, and your favorite vibrator. But tonight? As soon as you’re clean, you’re going to pig out on leftovers and collapse into the bed that’s the only halfway nice piece of furniture in your shithole apartment. You really do deserve a break; you’ve earned it.

Unfortunately, as usual, the universe has other plans.

You hear him before you see him: wheezing, choked breaths, like someone’s trying to breathe with an anvil on their chest. You’re not quite out of nurse mode so your mind starts trying to diagnose the issue before you even register what you’re hearing. Fluid in the lungs, possibly blood. That hacking isn’t good. Broken ribs? Definitely bruised. But probably not a puncture…

The breathing is coming from down an alley next to your building. It’s dark enough that you can’t see from the street what’s making the noise. And you’re not a fool, you know it’s a bad idea to walk down pitch-black alleys late at night, especially in this area—a neighborhood you’re living in by necessity, because it’s the only place cheap enough for you to get by. But the coughing…it just sounds so awful. It sounds like it hurts.

Your phone’s already in your hand with 119 dialed and ready to call (standard practice when you’re walking home by yourself), but you turn the flashlight on and shine it down the alleyway. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Nothing responds, but you can still hear the breathing. You step in a little deeper, swinging your light from side to side and looking over the heaps of trash bags overflowing from the dumpster. The raindrops make clicking sounds as they hit the plastic, and you can hear gurgling from a rain spout down the side of the building, but the wheezing doesn’t stop.

One more step. And then one more. You wish there was something you could do to make the splash of your rain boots in the puddles a little less loud. Something about this situation—the rain, the dark, the flat grey light from your cellphone, and that horrible hacking breath—it makes you feel like you’re walking into a horror movie. But you don’t stop walking.

The hacking is coming from a man propped up on the wall between a few XL bags of trash. The black outfit he’s wearing almost blends into the bags, but a mop of grey-blue hair gives him away. His head is slumped onto his chest, and if he’s conscious he doesn’t show it. “Hello?” you ask again, even less confident that you’re going to get a response.

No answer.

The smell of garbage is…ugh…hard to ignore, but on top of it is an oppressive stench of copper coming from the man passed out in the trash. You kneel down to get a better look and yep, he’s covered in blood. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but there’s a trio of long gashes in the man’s abdomen, cutting apart the skin and flesh so deep you can see traces of a slim layer of yellow fat between all the inky clotted blood. It looks like he was attacked by an animal. Or someone with an animal quirk. There are a lot of villains in this neighborhood.

And the coughing...definitely internal injuries. Whoever this guy is, he needs treatment. You hold up your phone to hit the call button on your pre-dialed 119—

“Don’t.” The voice is a growl, low and surprisingly firm despite the scratchiness. You jerk back and clutch your phone to your chest, caught off guard not just by the interruption but by the intensity of the face glaring up at yours.

His eyes are red. “You need an ambulance,” you tell him in your calmest nurse voice.

“If you try to call the police, I’ll—kill you,” the man says, but the threat is a little less threatening when he has to stop in the middle to retch blood onto his own chin.

You glare back at him but don’t call the emergency number. There are a lot of of reasons why he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, but the most obvious one is probably true. “You’re a criminal. A villain?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to keep glaring at you like you’ve committed some mortal sin against his ancestors by having the nerve to check on him and try to help him. Somehow it pisses you off. When you were getting your ADN, you once took a temp job doing health screenings at a local middle school and you would always get so annoyed at the kids. Didn’t they see you were just doing your job? Why is it so hard to understand that what you’re doing is for their own good?

Stupid kids. Stupid villain. “You’d rather bleed out and die?”

The man bares his teeth at you, and it’s a pretty disturbing scene considering how they’re covered in scarlet. “You think they’re going to save me? Think I’ll go to the hospital and get all my HP restored?”

He’s mocking you now. You only have a second to move out of the way before he spits off to the side. “I mean…that’s how a hospital works.”

“If you think I would—make it out of that ambulance alive, you’re—dumber than you look.” His voice is interspersed with coughs.

“Well, you’re not going to live if I leave you here.” You hold up your phone, ready to call the ambulance, but in a shocking display of agility the man lunges forward and grabs it out of your hand. “Hey, wait! Give that…back…”

Your voice trails off as your phone crumbles—literally crumbles to dust in the man’s fingers. Once he’s satisfied that there’s no way for you to call the cops, he slumps back onto the trash bags and closes his eyes, apparently exhausted from the effort.

Goddamnit…! For a second, you can only stare blankly at the pile of dust that used to be your $300 smartphone. And then you’re seized by something, maybe not hatred but an annoyance so strong you can feel it in your throat, and you decide right then and there that this villain is not going to die. You’re going to save him. Out of spite.

You’re not sure how you manage to half-carry him from the alley to your apartment, but you do. You’re lucky it’s ass-o-clock at night and no one’s in the lobby or the elevator, or you’d definitely be getting some looks trying to lug a maimed body around. What would you say if someone did call the cops? Don’t worry, don’t worry about it officer, it’s just my friend drank a little too much, oh those wounds? We were at a costume party, haha…

But no one sees you, and no one calls the cops. The man is unconscious the whole time you’re carrying him, and by the time you have him laid out on a shower curtain on your living room floor his breathing is a little bit shallower than it was before. You’ve got your tools—nothing fancy, just some gauze and closures and antiseptic from your personal first aid kit. It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough.

“Let’s get to work, asshole,” you tell the unconscious body in front of you, and you crack your knuckles.

///

The day after you pick the villain out of the garbage, your body decides that it’s not going to let you sleep in no matter how much you need it. You can tell because the huge windows in your bedroom—the only saving grace of this apartment, honestly—are depositing golden-pink sunrise light over everything you see when you open your eyes, including the villain’s face. Which is about six inches away from yours.

“You smell like death,” you tell him sleepily. He doesn’t move.

He’s…probably in his early twenties, you think, but it’s hard to tell because of all the wrinkles. His hair is on the longer side, and it’s striped with rusty brown smears from his blood. Again, you notice how red his irises are. Have you ever seen someone with eyes that color before? You’re pretty sure you haven’t.

“You slept for a long time,” the villain says, finally moving back so he’s not breathing into your mouth.

“Yeah, I was tired. From saving your life.” You sit up and rub your temples. “I’m thirsty…”

Before you can finish your complaint, the villain is holding a glass of water out to you in an awkward 4-fingered grip.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You suck down the water and immediately feel better, enough that you realize how wrong it is that he’s up and moving around and probably undoing all your hard work. “You should be lying down.”

“The floor hurt, and I was bored.”

“Lie on the couch then. You can watch TV. But first—“ He’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, and you make him lie down flat so you can look at the injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as they looked last night—no walk in the park, but at least you won’t have a corpse in your apartment in a few hours.

When you’re done inspecting him, he sits up and asks you for a shirt. You had to cut his off, not that it was any great loss. The thing was shredded. Him pointing it out is the only thing that makes you really realize he’s shirtless, so you give him an oversized pajama shirt of yours. It has the name and motto of your old high school on it, and the villain reads it out in a half-mocking tone when you hand it to him.

“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you snap. “You should be grateful.”

“I am grateful,” he says, putting the shirt on. “But I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you need a shirt, right? It’s cold—“

“No. Not that.” He’s staring at you again, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why you didn’t leave me where you found me last night.”

There’s a lot you could tell him, all of it a little bit true. You were curious. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. You couldn’t leave him alone the same way you can’t leave abandoned puppies alone. You wanted to prove to him that you were right, and that being stubborn wouldn’t get him what he wanted. But you don’t say that. “You killed my phone, so you owe me a new one. And I can’t get that back if you bleed out.”

He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, and you fidget under his gaze until he sighs and says, “Whatever.”

You have to let him lean on your shoulder when he walks back to the living room to lie down on your couch. How the hell did he even get to your bedroom by himself? You really didn’t think this through—what are you supposed to do with an infirm possible villain who can barely walk unsupported without opening his injuries back up?

But that’s a problem for tomorrow you to deal with. Today, you’re content to set your laptop up on the coffee table so the two of you can watch TV in…oddly companionable (if you’re not imagining it) silence. It’s almost the lazy day off you were daydreaming about before you got yourself into this mess, and the atmosphere is so relaxed that before you can really decide whether to force the man to go to the hospital or turn him out on the street (or…?) you’re dozing off on your couch like there isn’t a potentially dangerous stranger lying beside you with his head just a few inches from your lap.

When you wake up, your problem is solved for you. He’s gone, and it’s like he was never there—except you’re down a cellphone and a pajama shirt, and your shower curtain is drenched with blood. You wrap it up with the rest of the soiled medical supplies and toss all of it in a dumpster a mile away from your building without knowing exactly why.

///

It’s not the last you see of him, but somehow you had a feeling that was going to be the case.

He scares the shit out of you the first time he visits (over time, that’s how you’ll start to think of his little unannounced drop-ins: visits. Like you’re being visited by a ghost or something). You’re coming back from another grueling shift in the ER, so tired you think you might be sleepwalking, and what do you find when you come in your apartment but a strange white-haired man sitting on your couch eating dry cereal out of the box and flipping through one of your books?

You nearly piss yourself.

He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes sense, considering he’s a villain and he’s probably used to pulling this dramatic entrance thing on people. He certainly doesn’t seem the least bit threatened when you brandish the mini canister of pepper spray on your keychain and demand that he tell you how he got in if he wants to retain the power of eyesight.

“It was unlocked,” he says.

“It was not unlocked,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You may be sleep deprived, but you’re not careless. Never careless.

“Whatever. Calm down. You’re not going to use that on me.”

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. If he wanted to do something to hurt you, he could’ve done it that first night. And you’re too tired to really put up a fight, so you just put the cap back on the pepper spray and flop down next to him on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looks at you curiously from between his shaggy bangs, like you’re the one intruding in his home and not the other way around, then reaches out to hand something to you. “Here, payback.”

It’s a cell phone—not a smartphone like the one he destroyed, but a flip phone circa the 2000s, the kind that forces you to press “9” four times to get the letter “F”. You stare at it for a second, then look back at the villain. “Are you kidding? Did you get this from a museum?”

“Take it or leave it.” His feet are propped up on your coffee table, but you can’t make yourself care. Actually, it looks nice…him stretched out with an odd look of comfort on his lanky form.

You lean back on the couch and kick up your feet next to his. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs.

“How are your wounds healing?” Why are you trying to make conversation with this guy? He’s…a villain, right? Not that you’ve ever received affirmative confirmation of that fact, but the hesitance to call the police and the breaking and entering are pretty good tells. But…it might be weird, but since you picked him up that day, you’ve felt a kind of kinship with him.

Alone. Abandoned. No place to go. No one to save him. It’s not a pretty comparison, but you can’t deny it rings true.

Maybe that’s why you pick up strays.

“They’re fine,” he tells you after so long a pause that you’ve almost forgotten your question. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You take a long look at him, at his posture—he’s relaxed, but his abdomen is crunched a little bit, curled in on himself so subtly that even you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking. It’s not your problem. He’s an adult, and you’re sure he could be seeking real medical attention if he really needed it. You’re in no way obligated to perform some kind of checkup on this arrogant dick who literally broke into your apartment to give you a shitty phone and eat your cereal. The sensible thing to do is to tell him to forget that you live here and hopefully never see him again.

His head tips back to rest on the top of the couch, and he holds your book up to read. At this angle his long hair is out of the way of his face, and you notice among the deep-set creases in his skin a pair of wide scars across his right eye and on the corner of his lips. They’re pale and faded—old, then—but they look off to you, and after a while of snatching glances at his face you realize it’s because they’re healed badly, extraordinarily badly, the kind of healing that you don’t see very often because it only occurs when a stubborn patient tries to let a particularly nasty injury heal on its own. The part of you that isn’t sensible wonders how old he was when he got those scars.

Has he learned his lesson?

You doubt it.

“Lie down,” you sigh. “Let me see the cuts.”

Which is how you find yourself examining this annoying villain again, checking on his injuries and giving him recommendations for care like you’re his personal nurse or something. It’s not a role you enjoy playing, but at least he takes it without complaint, and you start to wonder if maybe this is why he broke into your apartment in the first place. If anything, he looks calmer when you’ve flipped up his shirt and prodded at his wounds, his eyes closing slowly and freeing you of that scarlet-red gaze.

He’s like a cat, you think, and then you shake your head and remind yourself that it’s a terrible idea to think of this man—this grown man who is probably a great danger to you and others—as a wild animal you’re trying to domesticate.

When he finally leaves (only after you drop a couple dozen unsubtle hints about how long you’ve been at work and how exhausted you are), you take a moment before you sink into bed to look at the flip phone. It’s no nicer than your original impression, but as you scroll through the screens you notice that it’s factory-new, except for one thing: there’s a contact programmed in, a phone number with an area code you don’t recognize listed under “T”. And you don’t want to be curious…

…but you are. Shocking.

Down the rabbit hole it is, you decide. So you text him.

///

[You: 12:03 AM] > Hey it’s (Y/N) > (the girl whose apartment you broke into) > What does T stand for? [T: 12:07 AM] > What do u think [You: 12:09 AM] > ?? [T: 12:09 AM] > My name > Dont you know who i am [You: 12:10 AM] > Are you famous? [T: 12:10 AM] > You dont watch the news do u [You: 12:11 AM] > Not really > What’s your name then [T: 12:12 AM] > … > Didnt u say u had to sleep [You: 12:15 AM] > Oh yeah > Whatever I guess > Good night

[T: 2:34 AM] > Its Tomura > Dont look it up

[You: 8:02 AM] > Ok > I won’t > Tomura

➠ [Part 2]

[sammy-gvf]

We get along (for the most part)

Chapter 2 

OC X Lee Bodecker

———————————-

Warnings- a little angst and cursing. 

Plot- The local rebel badass girl and Lee Bodecker have had run ins, lets see how it goes, shall we?

Word count : 2,705

MINORS DNI! THIS STORY WILL EVENTUALLY GET 18+. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. I DO NOT FEEL LIKE GETTING IN TROUBLE FOR YOU BEING STUPID. THANKS. 

 CHAPTER ONE IS PINNED ON MY PROFILE!

Sunday morning.

Slowly, I woke from my slumber hoping that I slept through church. Unfortunately, the sound of footsteps coming towards my door tells me differently. Knocking at the door, I hear a quiet voice come through the crack of my door.

“Maggy, are you up? Mamas goin have a fit if you aint up for church.” 

That's my brother John, he is always there to wake me up on sundays. He enjoys going to church. I’m not really into it, i usually try to go back to sleep but my parents barely ever let me sleep through church, small town equals gossip. No matter what you do, someone is always talking about you. Sat the wrong way? Gossiped about. Sneezed during church? Gossiped about. Literally anything you do is talked about among the town residents. I was the talk of the town when I was in high school, everyone knew I was sneakin around with Arvin. No one  liked it obviously, bein called every name in the book. I didn't care clearly, it didn't bother me or Arvin. 

I groan and slowly get out of bed, stretching and looking out of my window. It's a beautiful sunny day in Knockemstiff, I never thought I would ever describe this run down town like that, it's quite beautiful here though. Open fields for miles, I could see why no one would want to leave. I mean in old age, you could just do anything with your land and live off it. 

Getting up, I feel my feet hit the cold wood floor of my room. Everyday, I hope I don't get a splinter from the floor so I wear slippers throughout the house. I head to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My hair is disheveled and almost out of the bun that I had it in the night before, my eyebrows are out of place and the bags underneath my eyes are prominent. I sigh and splash some cold water on my warm face. I grab my toothbrush and go for it, spitting out the toothpaste and flashing my teeth in the mirror to make sure I didn't miss a spot. 

I heard my parents and brother moving around pretty quickly so I looked at the clock near my bed. It's 9:30 am, church starts in about 20 minutes and it takes 10 to get there. Quickly, I put my hair in a low bun, slapped on some powder and a plain lip color, a rose color to compliment my fair skin. Hopping around, I grab a plain flowy blue dress that goes up to about the middle of my thigh and a pair of white keds, quick and simple. 

I step out of my room and grab my clutch so I have something to hold while in church, I usually can't keep my hands still. I shut the door behind me and head out to the living room to see everyone quickly eating some toast off their plates in the kitchen, I hop over and steal a piece of toast and bacon off Johns plate and then we are out the door. 

Hopping in my dads truck, the ride there is quiet. We don't talk much in my family, only at dinner once and a while and sometimes when my father drinks. Which is only when he is done work on Fridays. I make sure I'm out of the house on fridays, he never stops talking when he is drinking. My parents and I have never been that close really, kind of an unspoken family thing. Mother stays quiet and does her motherly duties as us women are expected to do once we pop out a few puppies. I refuse to be like that. 

The ride to church is scenic,open fields for miles and so many animals to look at. I enjoy the breeze coming through my hair but I just wish it was from me driving my car out somewhere I have never been. Like maybe California, it's probably beautiful. I have never been to a beach, as a matter of fact I've never been out of Knockemstiff before. I envy everyone who leaves this place and never comes back. As soon as I can get out of here, I will. I swear on everything I love. 

The car stops and I get out, my feet hitting the dirt road below me. My keds are gonna need a cleaning after this. Stepping around the car, I separate from my family and hop around the back of the church to smoke a quick cig before I go through the church doors to act like I'm holy for 2 hours. 

Stepping to the left side of the church, I put my clutch on a bush and grabbed a cigarette from the pack stuffed in my bag. Quickly I light it and suck on it as quickly as I possibly can to just get a moment to myself. Looking out into the distance, I always forget that the cemetery is this close to the church. Graves for as far as the eyes can see. That distracted me to the point where I forgot how quick I was smoking and ended up inhaling too much smoke at one time, leading me to cough quite loud. I throw the cigarette on the floor below my foot and crush it quickly. 

I hear an oh so familiar voice in the distance as I finish my coughing fit. 

“ Ms. Lane, what a pleasure to see you on this fine sunday.” He says, walking towards me with his fingers hooked around the belt loops of his pants.

Same uniform everyday, never fails.

“Say, what are you doin here behind the church all by your lonesome? “ Lee says as he stands next to me, I can smell the tobacco and mint on him the same as I did last night. I look over at Lee with an exhausted look on my face from the coughing fit I just had.

Lee looks down at the ground and a grin forms on his face, sneaky bastard never misses a beat. 

“Ms.Lane-” Lee begins to say and I stop him

“Please, for the love of christ call me Maggy. I am not 16 anymore, Lee.” You say as you start to walk past him. He grabs your arm and stops you. 

“Maggy Lane, just know I know about your little reputation.” Lee says as he still has you by the arm, kind of digging his nails into your soft skin as you try to pull away a bit.

“As a matter of fact, I was there when you began your little shenanigans. Be careful of how you talk to your sheriff, little lady.” You look at him in disgust as he tries to intimidate you. 

“ Also, I told you those cigarettes was bad news, you're lucky I don't stop on over and talk to your pop about your little habit.” Lee says with a smirk on his face. You finally wiggle out of his grip, your arm dropping to your side with crescent shaped marks on your arm. You rub the spots where Lee's fingers were just digging into your upper arm.

Looking up at him, he tips his hat at you and starts to walk away. You spit on the ground near his feet and he turns around on his feet, quick. 

“ I hope you know you're a prick, Bodecker.” You spit out at him. 

Immediately, you are backed up against the wood boards of the church, both of Lee's arms on either side of your head. Your heart is racing and your breath is hitching. You're frozen. 

“Listen to me, you little bitch.” Lee inches closer to your face, your noses almost touching. You turn your head to the side hoping that he won't really notice but he grabs your face and holds it so you are looking him directly in the eyes.

“Your little mouth will get you in trouble, especially with me.” Your breath hitches as he gets closer. Your heart could explode. You were terrified. 

“ Lee, church is starting. We better get in there before we miss anything” A voice in the distance yells. 

 Instantly, Lee lets you go and strides back to the unknown voice. 

You stand there with a shocked look on your face, as if you had just seen the devil up close. You were frozen in your current position but as soon as people started going in the building you sank to your feet and sat there for a minute breathing heavily. You fixed yourself up and stood outside the door of the old church, taking a deep breath before going in and finding your seat next to your family. 

 Church dragged on and on, I felt like I was going to fall asleep. A screaming preacher, so many people in such a small space. Half way through, I got up to go to the bathroom and caught Lee staring at me and he gave me a small smirk. Creep.

Stepping into the bathroom, I look at my face in the mirror. It's still slightly red from where Lee had his disgusting hand around my chin. I pushed on the spot and it felt like it was going to bruise. 

“ Fuck” I whispered to myself as I turned my head side to side to look at the red around my lips and on my chin. This is for sure going to bruise. 

I splash some water on my face to refresh myself and then I step out of the bathroom to bump into something in front of me. 

“Shit, I am so sorry” You say as you back up into the oak door and look at the person in front of you. 

“ Oh, no worries hun.” the woman in front of you says. 

You look at her quickly as you step aside, sticking out your hand and you say “I don't think I have met you before, I’m Maggy Lane.” 

She sticks out her hand and shakes yours firmly, she is a very pretty woman with short brown curly hair. 

Thin and very well put together, can't be more than 25 years old. 

“ It’s very nice to meet you sweetheart, I’m Ruth Har- I mean Bodecker.” She says smiling as she pulls her hand back from the handshake and puts it back on her clutch bag. 

“You the sheriff's wife?” you say as you cock your head to the side questioningly. 

“Yes, I am.” she smiles, “ We've been married now for about a year, a very fine man he is.” She says as she steps aside to talk to you for a minute before she steps into the bathroom.

You were shocked, Lee actually was married? He was such an asshole, you didn't think anyone would want him. As you had said the previous night, you would tell his wife if he had called you another pet name but she looks so sweet. He doesn't deserve her. You had just said that assumin he even had a woman at home. 

“ Thats nice, say you ain't from around here, are ya?” You say in a little southern drawl, she aint from these parts. You can tell by the way she says certain words. 

“ No darlin, i'm from Tennessee.” she smiled “Met Lee out there while I was workin in a bar.” she blushed a bit.

“ Huh, well look at that.” you say as you cross your arms and lean against the doorframe of the bathroom. “ Lee does get out of town then.”

She chuckles and you look at the time, church is going to be over soon.

“ Well, it was very nice meeting you, Mrs.Bodecker.” You say as you turn your back and start walking towards the stairs to go back to the chapel area. 

“ You too, darlin.” She says waving at you. 

“ See you around” You say as you head back up the stairs. 

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

Chapter 2 already? I’m crankin shit out lol 

Hope yous like it so far! Dont forget to leave opinons/replys and as always dont forget to like/reblog!

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[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through IV

Chapter: 4/16

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Once Ringo had managed to compose himself, which took far longer than he'd care to admit, he ventured back out into the chaos of the club in search of John. He wasn't difficult to find, standing at the front of the stage cheering - practically screaming - and waving money around to get the dancer's attention. Unsurprisingly, the dancer was Paul. He was currently spinning around the pole with one hand, his ankles entwined to give him support. It was quite a beautiful sight, Ringo thought, watching his gentle movements. The club was considerably more empty by this point and the remainder of the customers had circled around the stage. Ringo slinked past a few drunken layabouts as he made his way over to John, he had to shout in his ear just to get his attention.

"Oh, Ringo!" John grinned, his breath stank of whiskey "How'd it go?"

"A little too well." Ringo chuckled, he coaxed John to sit down.

"Did he almost kill you this time?" John only passed Ringo a few glances, mostly his attention was on Paul.

"I think he did kill me. Then brought me back. Then killed me again." Ringo picked up John's drink and took a sip "Are they supposed to touch you?"

John paused his shouting for a moment "Touch you how?"

"Just... Y'know, touching. Getting me to touch him, him touching my chest." Ringo decided to leave out the crotch contact, he still wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not.

"Oh yeah, that's fine. As long as you're both consenting o'course. And as long as he's not dropping on his knees and sucking you off." John laughed and Ringo almost choked on the drink, the image those words conjured up was a surprising one.

"How much longer are you planning on staying?" Ringo settled back in his seat and turned his attention to Paul.

"Why? You in a hurry to get home and bash one out?" John nudged him without pulling his eyes away from the stage.

"Speak for yourself." Ringo scoffed, he didn't see the point in denying it.

"We can head out after Paulie's done." John nodded to gesture towards the man in question.

"Fine." Ringo stretched his legs out in front of him.

If he hadn't been so exhausted from Spike, Ringo probably would've gotten a little excited watching Paul but he was completely worn out. John had a shine in his eyes that Ringo didn't see very often, and his happiness was definitely contagious. They sat watching Paul for another two songs, during which he exhibited a ridiculous amount of core strength that Ringo could only dream of ever achieving. It was obvious that John was hoping to catch Paul before they headed back home, as much as he was trying to hide it, and Ringo probably would've hung around with him had he not been so exhausted or so sure that John was probably going to be back here within the week. In truth the main reason Ringo wanted to get out of there so quickly was because he didn't want to risk seeing Spike again, or rather Spike seeing him again; Ringo happily could've watched him from a safe distance all night but as soon as Spike was looking right back at him, knowing what Ringo was thinking, that was too much.

The cold night air stung Ringo's face and hands as they stepped back out into the street. Luckily his car wasn't too far away and while he was perhaps a little too tipsy to be driving he made sure he stayed off the main roads and never went over the speed limit - he could drive recklessly when he was sober but he'd never risk that when he was drunk. John was the only one talking on the drive back to his place, mostly rambling about things Ringo couldn't understand so he just nodded along and made affirming noises.

John leaned on Ringo for support as they walked up to his front door, Ringo knew he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't walk but he tended to do this when he was feeling a little lonely. Ringo had gotten more than used to it by now, he'd had to carry John to bed bridal style many times over the years so this was nothing. John fell face first down onto his bed which was still unmade and either fell asleep immediately or wanted Ringo to think he had. It had almost become a routine by this point: Ringo drove them home, carried John up to his room, left a glass of water by his bed and tidied up a few bits and pieces on his way out. Occasionally he'd check in John's fridge to see if he had any food in and if it was empty, which it often was, he'd offer to buy or cook the two of them dinner the next day. Ringo wasn't the subtlest about it sometimes, once or twice he'd even shown up with bags filled with groceries and left after handing them over without much of an explanation. John never acknowledged any of these things Ringo did, at least not verbally, but Ringo knew he appreciated them and he was sure John repaid the favour in some ways he wasn't aware of, or very aware of in the case of tonight.

Exhaustion hit like a strong wave once Ringo finally got back to his own place. He kicked off his shoes carelessly in the hallway and staggered into his bedroom; he didn't dare look at the time before he slid into bed, just chucked his phone into the furthest corner hoping that he'd remembered to set his alarm for the following morning. As soon as his head hit the pillow he expected to fall asleep almost instantly but his brain had other ideas. His body was definitely ready for sleep, his eyes were stinging and his muscles ached a little yet his mind was racing. This didn't happen a lot. Ringo was notoriously known for how well he slept and how loudly he snored but tonight that wasn't the case. He couldn't shake the images of the night from his mind or how warm Spike's skin had felt beneath his fingertips or the inviting smell of him. Ringo let out a groan as he tossed and turned, as though vigorous movement would throw the thoughts out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was give into the urge but the first thing he wanted to do was sleep, and it was a pretty strong urge. Was there any better way to get to sleep than a quick orgasm? Probably. Ringo just had to tell himself that he was doing this purely for that purpose, as he wanked himself off under the covers with his eyes scrunched tightly and his brain filled with thoughts of Spike.

The following day was fairly uneventful, Ringo was up on time to sit eating breakfast in front of the television for an hour before he had to head out for work. It was his weekly lesson with a kid called Peter, he was nice enough and his parents were more than pleasant if not a little stupid. He'd been working with Peter for almost a year and while he'd made a great deal of progress since their first lesson he wasn't showing a massive amount of promise, but at least he was trying. Sometimes Ringo felt like speaking to his parents privately and breaking the news that their son wasn't going to become a world famous drummer, probably not even a locally famous one, but he needed the money too much. Peter was better than a lot of Ringo's students, most of which had watched Whiplash a few too many times and decided they wanted to be the next John Bonham only to give up in two months because it was 'too hard'.

After their lesson ended Ringo decided to walk around town for a little while, usually he'd be out in search of lunch by now but Peter's parents always prepared him some food which he was never too polite to refuse - after all smoked salmon was considerably more appetising than a tepid sausage roll from Greggs. He decided to pop into his favourite record shop, although it wasn't like there were many others to choose from. Despite the accessibility to music his phone provided, Ringo always had a deep love for vinyl records; they were nostalgic somehow, even if they had no significance to his own childhood. Like most record shops, this one sold a fair bit of vintage clothing too although Ringo was never too interested in that. He didn't really have any particular record in mind as he walked in so ended up browsing through the plethora of options. There was only one other person in the shop, excluding the owner who sat behind the counter and gave Ringo a welcoming smile, but it sounded like there were a couple of people downstairs in the clothing section. As Ringo began to flick through some of the records his phone buzzed in his pocket.

        can you bring me coffee???

It was John, which was a little surprising considering he usually didn't wake up until far later in the afternoon if he'd been drinking heavily the night before.

         hello to you too

        i dont have time for formalities i need COFFEE

         why dont you have any coffee in your house

         i dont have time for questions either

         any coffee in particular my liege?

         ha ha          just get me one from maccies pleaseeee

         fine im just in town atm can you wait like 10 mins

         suppose ill have to

         suddenly im too busy

         shut up just bring me coffee ill love you forever and all that

         i should bloody think so too

Ringo chuckled to himself quietly as he put his phone back into his pocket, he took a final quick look at the stack of records then began making his way outside. Before he could make it to the door he suddenly collided with someone who had been turning up from the staircase, which resulted in a few pieces of clothing flying upwards and landing on the ground. Ringo began apologising immediately, crouching down to pick up the clothes to hand them back over. As he straightened back up to apologise for perhaps the fourth time he froze upon seeing exactly who he'd bumped into.

"Spike." Ringo blurted out, his brain had decided to throw the name out as soon as it crossed his mind.

"Only after 9." He responded instantaneously, it must've been a frequent line he used "Do I... Oh! It's you."

"The very same." Ringo chuckled nervously, he wondered whether he'd actually recognised him or was just being polite - Ringo couldn't decide which one he'd prefer.

It was very strange seeing him like this, so normal that it was abnormal. He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck which framed his sharp jaw and hugged his slim body nicely. Over that lay a yellow beaded necklace and his trousers were a dark suede material; he looked good, somehow more alluring when he was fully clothed. Ringo noticed he was staring, he only hoped that Spike hadn't noticed but it was impossible to tell with the unreadable darkness of his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if he couldn't get any more obvious, then held out the patterned shirt he'd picked up so Spike could take it from him. Their hands brushed slightly at the exchange and Ringo felt the hairs on his arm standing up.

"They're nice, er- Nice clothes." Ringo stammered, yanking his hand back to his side.

"Suppose I should be thanking you for them." Spike replied, there was a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh?" Ringo heard the pitch of his voice rising slightly.

"You helped pay for them." Spike explained, the smile grew.

"Well John paid, really. But he does owe me money so I guess I did pay in a way. Glad to see the money's going somewhere good either way." Ringo rambled, once again his mouth was moving before his brain could stop it.

"Right." Spike said, his tone was very final yet he didn't move to leave.

"I best be getting out of your way so you can actually pay for those." Ringo shuffled sideways towards the door, expecting Spike to step backwards to give him some room but he just stood there looking at him - was it not enough to make him suffer at the club, did he have to punish him now too?

"Are you always this nervous?" Spike grinned.

"No I- You just caught me by surprise is all." Ringo forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Okay." Spike squinted his eyes slightly then turned to head towards the counter.

Ringo was surprised he was able to get back to his car without collapsing, all the tension leaving his body as soon as Spike's eyes were off him made him feel practically boneless. Spike didn't look back at him but Ringo supposed he didn't have to, he would've known he was staring at him. Ringo gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, somehow managing to make it to the drive-through without consciously driving there. He ordered a coffee for John and a milkshake for himself, he figured he could do with a pick-me-up after that atrocious encounter. Not once in all the times he'd gone to that shop had he seen Spike there, and it couldn't have been a case of merely not noticing him before because Ringo definitely would've noticed someone looking like that walking around. It felt like God was playing some cruel trick on him, but in reality it was nothing more than a coincidence married with Spike's cruelty which produced that painful exchange. Ringo tried not to think about it as he drove over to John's but his brain had apparently decided to betray him, just as his mouth had done earlier.

John had took a while to answer the door and Ringo began to worry that he'd fallen back asleep - it was times like this that he figured he may as well have a key to his place. When the door swung open, Ringo burst in a little too aggressively and knocked John backwards slightly.

"Jesus, what's crawled up your arse?" John chuckled as he closed the door "Don't tell me the ice cream machine was broken again."

John's presence calmed Ringo significantly but he couldn't shake the tension in his body completely "Guess who I just bumped into." He set the drinks down on John's kitchen table and took a seat.

"Ooh was it that guy from the train station? Or how about-" John took a seat opposite him and gripped the coffee eagerly.

"You're not actually meant to guess." Ringo interrupted, he tried to sound commanding but it was a little difficult when he was holding a strawberry milkshake.

"Then don't say 'guess' you git. The English language is wasted on you." John put his feet up on the table "Who was it then?"

"Spike." Ringo widened his eyes.

"No shit. Really?" John cackled "What happened?"

"I was at that record shop and he was coming up from the basement and I walked straight into him." Ringo explained.

"Nothing straight about it." John mumbled behind his coffee.

"Funny." Ringo glared "It was so fucking embarrassing, I could hardly speak."

"What did he say?" John asked.

"Nothing really. He probably said about three words so I figured he didn't want to talk to me but he just stood there. I didn't want to be rude and just rush out but looking back I probably should've." Ringo sighed.

"Yeah, you probably should've." John snickered.

"Not helping."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno... I'm sure it wasn't that bad or something."

"Well, was it that bad?"

"He asked me if I was always so nervous."

John burst into laughter "Jesus, Ringo. That's pretty bad."

"Guess that's the last time I'll be going to the strip club, or the record shop for that matter."

"Don't be so dramatic. So you were a little awkward in front of him, who cares?"

"I care."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him thinking I'm some sort of loser."

"Why do you give a shit what he thinks?"

Ringo didn't say anything, he just held his cup tightly and looked at John straight in the eye.

"Look, you've got nothing to get so worked up about. If he thought you were so pathetic he wouldn't have even spoken to you." John lifted his feet off the table and leaned forward in his seat "He's just messing with you, probably thinks it's funny."

"He was smiling." Ringo mumbled.

"Well there you go." John reached his hand forward and poked at Ringo's arm "You're being ridiculous. Chances are you won't bump into him again, you've gone your whole life without doing it before."

"But-" Ringo began.

"No buts! Unless they're butts on the stage covered in leather I don't wanna hear it." John interrupted "Bottom line is you like watching this guy strip right?"

"Well, yeah-" Ringo tried again.

"So what's the problem? It's not like you found out he's your cousin or one of your students, is it?" John smiled warmly.

"Suppose not." Ringo couldn't help smiling too.

"We really need to get you laid, it's making you crazy. I'm supposed to be the crazy one, don't try and take that away from me." John leaned back in his chair again.

"I don't intend to." Ringo chuckled looking down at his feet.

"So... Same time next week?" John raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"You really hate me, don't you?"

"On the contrary! I love you very much, my dear Ringo. That's exactly why I'm gonna take you back there so you can prove you're not some pathetic weirdo."

"How exactly?"

"Just be yourself, you can manage that can't you?"

"Not quite sure I want to."

"Oh hush. Leave the self-deprecation to me if you don't mind." John paused to sip his coffee "This time next week you'll have forgotten all about this, and I'm sure he will too."

"I guess you're right."

But John hadn't been right. Ringo had thought about that small exchange for days. He found himself picking apart every small moment and trying to rationalise it in his mind: had Spike actually recognised him? Why did he just stand there while Ringo tried to squeeze past? Why had been smiling so strangely the whole time? No matter how many answers Ringo tried to give to himself, the whole situation only became more confusing. He felt like a teenager again, stumbling over his words and blushing at the tiniest bit of contact. It was pathetic, shameful really. Maybe if he just took John's advice and actually went and slept with someone all these weird feelings would just be gone. But he didn't want just someone, he wanted him.

[bellechienne08]

Wheew!! What a fast month it has been. Time certainly does fly when you’re having fun. I’ve been lackadaisical when it comes to posting. I apologize for leaving you hanging wondering what in the world we are doing, but a good friend of mine (thank you for helping me keep it in perspective Michelle) reminded me that it’s okay I haven’t posted because I’ve been living and enjoying life with my family. Which isn’t really good for you, my loyal reader family, but, I know you understand.

Anyway, back to what I was saying, I can’t believe we’re over half way through July already and moving quickly into August (the dreaded month of returning to work and saying goodbye to summer break).  It’s like I blinked and June was over and things started moving so fast I couldn’t, probably am still not able to, keep up. 😉

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the last time we spoke I was getting ready for the youngest to go visit with his dad for 2 weeks and I was packing for a trip to Kansas to see my sister. I think the last thing we did for Summer of Fun was creaking where my son’s friend broke his shoe 10 minutes into the adventure.

Oh my gosh, A LOT has happened since then.

Friend, we have got to sit down and get caught up! Grab a cold one and let’s talk for a bit.

The youngen arrived at his dad’s safe and sound and I packed into the car with my mama and two nieces for an almost 13-hour drive. I love road trips!! There’s just something about being on the road and getting to see everything you pass by. I don’t mind flying, I just prefer driving. I feel like I don’t miss as much and I get to see things I might not normally see (like Lucas Oil Stadium! Talk about HUGE!!! WOW!)

A TRIP TO OZ

So, Kansas was ah-mazing! My sister lives out in the middle of nowhere, no, like literally, nowhere and I LOVED IT!! Speaking of nowhere, I recently read nowhere is not a conjunction of ‘No’ and ‘Where’ but is NOW and HERE which is everywhere and where God is in every moment and doing great things (Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust). Which in fact means, my sister lives right in the middle of everywhere, the Now and the Here. 🤔 Think about that for a minute.

Onward…

Her little town has a four-way stop, two churches, a diner, and a post office. That’s it. End of story. There is N-O-T-H-I-N-G else. The closest anything is a 30-minute drive and that’s a Walmart, fast-food joints, a couple of dollar stores and a few local bars. I mean she has friends there too, but as far as entertainment goes, there really isn’t any. If you want to be entertained, plan on driving 2 – 2 1/2 hours in any direction!

I loved getting up every morning, going out to the front porch and watching the sun come up over the horizon, hearing the birds begin to sing, and getting a ‘gift’ from my sister’s dog, Zena. Yes!! Her dog brought us a turtle. Yes a living turtle, every.single. morning for three days. It was hysterical. She never hurt it and was always gentle when she placed it in front of us. The turtle pics may or may not be the same turtle, they all look the same in the photos! LOL!

Zena

I also enjoyed spending time in the evenings looking at all the stars. I always knew they were there, but where I live the light pollution drowns them out. In Kansas, where I was, there was no light pollution and the stars were STUNNING!!! My mama and I downloaded the Sky Map app and had a blast figuring out what things were in the night sky. It was breathtaking!!

Spending time with family is never a waste of time and I enjoyed relaxing with my sister and nieces. We laughed and talked, laughed and talked some more, had a bonfire and just reveled in being together. Then it was time to come home. Bittersweet to say the least, but I was so glad to see the boys and Mr. Right!!

The next few days I was really exhausted. It’s funny really, how you need a vacation to rest from your vacation. I was pretty much a slug for three days and slept quite a bit.

Still, we managed to get some Summer of Fun activities done. I love our activities. They provide us with cool things to do, give us ample time to be with each other, and give us new things to try and learn. It’s a win-win all the way around.

21 SUMMER OF FUN ACTIVITIES

Since it’s been so long since I posted about our fun and for the sake of your time and mine, I’m going to list the activities and then you can watch all the photos flash by in a slideshow. Sound like a good idea? Yeah, I thought so too.

Since being gone and back again, we have done:

*domino design and tumble – Ours wasn’t quite as elaborate as the video link, but you get the idea

*blow bubbles – yup, even at 16 my son still enjoys doing this. It’s actually more fun with him being older because he really tries to make them HUGE!!

*a no technology day �� can you survive? We did.

*learn one word in 10 different languages – We chose the word FRIEND and learned it in Finnish, Arabic, Greek, Swahili, Japanese and a few others. Did you know, that in Swahili the word friend is Rafiki ( I love the Lion King!!)?

*created a popsicle stick chain reaction

*did a spaghetti challenge

*shot off chalk rockets

*designed and ran a Lego zipline

*created glow-in-the-dark fans

*made elephant toothpaste – you can find 6% hydrogen peroxide in your local beauty supply store

*started a wax bottle – this is an older type of fun. Grab that empty wine bottle, stick a candle in it (let it burn down a bit) and then hold crayons in the flame and let the wax drip down the bottle. Definitely an activity for the older ones.

*made a pom-pom rug

*went swimming

*made and used a shoebox phone projector

*survived 4 days of church camp

*went to the art museum – Our local museum has an interactive map where you create the map as you enter the museum and then find the pieces you added as you walk through the museum.

*did an online scavenger hunt – We just picked one from a Google search

*had a picnic

*had ice cream from an ice cream shop – our local ice cream shop is called 3 Dips and it is fantastic and nostalgic!

*had a jammie day

*canned 50 pounds of fresh peaches – this was a mom and nana activity but the boys and Mr. Right benefitted, to say the least.

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WOW! What a whirlwind of activity, huh? Each day holds a special place in my heart and the memories will last a lifetime. I can’t wait to sit in my rocking chair on the front porch holding my grandbabies (waaay in the future of course) and tell them of all the adventures their dads and I used to have together.

I hope your summer has been as fun and special as ours and that each day you take the time to see the special moments in the little things.

See you next time,

Robyn

    Summer of Fun - Let's catch up! It's been awhile. Grab your favorite drink, put your feet up and lets talk about all you've missed while I was gone! Wheew!! What a fast month it has been. Time certainly does fly when you're having fun. I've been lackadaisical when it comes to posting.

[leslierichardsrp]

Leslie Char Dev

1. What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional. Leslie sleeps on his face, flat out, arms spread, his body practically trying to escape from the bed. He also moves a lot in his sleep, loves to hug things. Body pillows are definitely a favorite. 3. Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like? Leslie has a pretty neutral Amercian accent, due to the years he spent living in the mid-west, paired with his time in New York. When he was younger, he decided that he wanted to sound like he was from Brooklyn, but that phase only lasted a year or two. 4. Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly? Leslie's a sucker for holding out random letters while he speaks, especially if it's to call someone's name or say something that he would consider endearing. More often than not, he'll do this with a nasal inflection, making the word sound pretty whine-y. 5. What are their chief tension areas? Man, he hates to complain about it, but the joints in his ankles like to lock up sometimes. If he ever falls asleep drunk in front of his apartment, there's a good chance that it's because he was walking back from the bar, his ankles started to hurt, and his drunken self just kind of gave up. 6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why? This is tough, actually, because most songs that I would attribute toward Leslie have more to do with his relationship to others than as a reflection of his personality. I like to pair him with Sam Smith songs, but he's too bubbly for that. You know what, he'd probably be "Grace Kelly" by Mika. 7. How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral? I wish I could say neutral, because that's how he perceives himself to the rest of the world, but he's aware that he has a lot of problems. He's pretty much decided that he's a lost cause. Leslie's in between settling with himself or getting better for someone else. 8. Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts? He's too much of a quick thinker. The thought usually passes before he gets the opportunity to fulfill anything. 9. Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time. Ha. Oh, man. Yeah, Leslie has a lot of very vivid dreams, and they vary so much from day to day. They say that you dream about what you think about, and Leslie'd brain is always going. It's exhausting. By morning time, though, he's usually dreaming about peeing, actually. He's peed in a lot of interesting places in his dreams. 10. If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation? Subways make him nauseous, actually. Throw him on a bus. 11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like? Evolution all the way. Sorry, guys, but he's not a big believer in the everlasting. He fully believes that after death comes darkness. He tries not to think about it too much, though. 12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has. He can think about one thing and talk about something else, simultaneously. Yeah, he'll pretty quickly change topics, but it's still an interesting skill. He's double jointed, so he likes to do party tricks where he bends his body around in weird and kind of gross ways. He's tone deaf, but he loves to sing (sorry, world). When he gets really happy about something or is in a good mood, he walks with a peppy dance in his step. He likes to wiggle his legs. Actually, he has a pretty serious restless leg syndrome thing going on. 13. Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something? After college, he was pretty ready to dive into work, but then Amy died and he just shut down. There were a few months worth of spending all of his savings before he finally got a job. If he were a rich man, he'd probably still be unemployed. 14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo? Team, team, team, team. Please don't make him do anything on his own. It'll never get done. 15. Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time? He should focus on one subject at a time, but he isn't going to. Ever. 16. What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each. Best: Biology, Chemistry, Algebra, Lunch, Physical Education -- Worst: English, Literature, History, Arts (any kind), Study Hour 17. Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people? Extrovert, he really can't stand being alone, unless he's asleep. 18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether? Aw, man, those sidelines look pretty fucking comfortable, but he likes people way too much not to get involved in some way. It kind of depends on the situation, though. If he can chat with someone, he'll jump in as a follower. If he has to argue with someone, he sticks to the sidelines. He hates confrontations. 19. If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight? Neither, to be honest. He'd stick around and laugh it off until someone decided to punch him in the face just to shut him up. If he had to do one or the other, though, he'd probably run away, but he's definitely more likely to take middle ground there. 20. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why? He wouldn't. If he could go back in time, he wouldn't even murder his neice’s killer. 21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why? Impulse control, Leslie. Impulse control. No, he'd wish for a cheeseburger, then realize he could've wished for an entire meal and make a second wish for fried brussel sprouts. Then maybe he'd wish for a couple thousand bucks. 22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone? Right off the bat, no questions asked. It's a wonder he's never been stabbed by this point in his life. Or had his kidneys stolen and sold on the black market. 23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart? Affection, oh my GOD. He loves to be touched, whether it's just a brush of the hand or a full on underwear-only snuggle session, he loves it. If he were rich, he'd probably pay someone money just to cuddle him. No sex or anything necessary. The quickest way to his heart? Be kind and laugh. That's all it really takes. He's a sucker for a sweet soul that's willing to laugh at his shitty jokes. 24. Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why? Not that he would see it, but the local bartender (and his boyfriend) tend to give him nasty side-eye. 25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks? He'd do pretty much anything with anyone. He slept with a 90 year old woman once, and that was probably the most adventurous night of his life. And not just because of her age. 26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble? Prepare for bed? Leslie hardly makes it to the bed before he's out cold most nights. And what's wrong with sleeping in your clothes? He only takes them off if it's summer time, because then it gets hot. Otherwise, Leslie tends to sleep fully dressed, unless he's just had sexual contact with someone. Once he's asleep, he sleeps like the dead. Expect it to take a long time to get him to wake up, even longer if you find him drooling. 27. If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be? He'd thank them for giving him a chance (he's adopted), and explain that he would never forget them. 28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets? He isn't afraid of death for himself, which is a scary thought, actually. Leslie has a very minute sense of preservation. On his deathbed, he'd regret a lot about his life, but at his current age, he only regrets not talking to Amy more while she'd been alive. Everything else just seems relatively unimportant to him. 29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why? Leslie will legitimately start bouncing if the world around him is too quiet for too long. He'll click his heels, tick his tongue, snap his fingers, tap his knuckles on the surface of any nearby furniture. It makes him feel weird, and he definitely gets bored of it quickly. The guy can't stand libraries, even if he'll say otherwise. 30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why? Brussel sprouts. He just absolutely loves them. Don't ask me why. The guy's weird af.

[girlsofknoxville-blog]

Chapter 1

“I’m twenty-three years old.”

“Mhmm, and have you been living here your whole life?”

Nessa cleared her throat, her lips shifting to the side in a lopsided smile.

“Born and raised, baby.”

She was trying to lighten the mood in the interrogation room but the officer in front of her was having none of it. She wrung her wrists under the table, trying to keep them steady. If she was nervous, the officer couldn’t tell.

“What’s your relation with Trevor Hoffman?”

Nessa shrugged.

“Neighbours for as long as I could remember. His parents and my aunt and uncle would go out on double dates and they’d hire a babysitter to look after us.”

“I understand that this must be hard for you then.”

Liar. She didn’t actually understand. This is her job. To get people to trust her.

Nessa shifted in her seat, her nails now digging into her skin.

“It is. We were close. And now.. He’s buried ten feet in the ground surrounded by dirt and bugs. Yeah, it’s fucking hard.”

She bore her eyes into the officer’s bravely. The woman was not much bigger than Nessa was. Her hair pinned back in a slick bun, her freckles proudly taking their spot on her cheeks. She didn’t seem like she cared much about how she looked. Professionally, maybe, evident by her crisp ironed uniform. But aesthetically? No. 

Nessa used that to her advantage. She knew she was beautiful, she didn’t need anyone to tell her - although they do most of the time. Her dark ravenous hair and piercing blue eyes could make any guy or girl go absolutely nuts over her. And if that wasn’t enough, she always had her words. She could string words together and deliver it with utmost confidence that it makes a person believe that they’re actually stupid. There she was in action, attempting to make the officer feel inferior.

“Before you go any further, I want to get my lawyer in here.”

It always gets ridiculously hot around there during that time of the year. Faye could feel a drop of sweat trickle down her spine, her hazel eyes following Sahra’s paces in front of her.

“I always knew she’d get her sorry ass in jail sooner or later. But I didn’t thought it’d be so soon!”

“Sahra, settle, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Faye Newman? This way.”

Ugh, not officer Regent again. I hate her. And that stupid bun.

Faye took a deep breath and squeezed Sahra’s shoulder.

“Stay here, be good, don’t move an inch till I come out.”

“But-”

“I mean it. I don’t need another friend in jail.”

With a look of warning directed at Sahra, Faye followed Officer Regent down the hallway and into the interrogation room. Her eyes instantly met with Nessa’s. They were red around her irises as if she hasn’t slept in days. And she probably hasn’t. None of them have.

“Alright, Russo, your lawyer’s here. Now let’s talk.”

Nessa looked over at Faye who was now settling into her seat beside her. Faye nodded at her assuringly.

“Alright, fine. Ask away.” 

Chapter 2

Sahra watched as Faye made her way out of the interrogation room. Her blazer was now hanging over her arm. Faye nodded at her and left the building as Sahra followed hastily behind her.

“Well? What happened in there?”

“Say something.”

Faye dug her heel into the concrete steps and turned to look at her friend.

“They’re letting her go but she’s not allowed to leave town. She could still get called in for an interrogation at any time.”

“That’s great! She doesn’t go anywhere anyways. So why aren’t we waiting for her? How’s she gonna get home?”

“She’ll walk.”

“What? Are you nuts? She-”

Faye grabbed Sahra’s hand and looked at her pleadingly, trying to make her understand with just the look in her eyes.

“Listen. The less the cops know about our relationship with Nessa at this point, the better it is for her. So we’re going to get out of here as quickly as we can and we’ll meet her tonight. When it’s dark. And when everyone’s asleep. Now let’s go.”

Faye’s blonde locks illuminated as the 4 o’clock sunlight seeped in through the gaps of the window and reflected on her hair. She stirred the black liquid in the mug, watching the milk swirl with the coffee.

“Did you hear from Rose? She didn’t reply any of my messages, emails, didn’t answer my phone calls. What if she’s dead?”

Faye scoffed at Sahra’s assumption. Rose would be the last one to die amongst the four of them. 

“It’s been three years. Maybe she’s still mad. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. Perhaps she’s somewhere with no phone reception.”

Sahra rolled her eyes.

“You’re always protecting her.”

“I protect all of you. You guys owe me. Big time.”

That made Sahra smile. She picked Faye’s left hand up, pulling it across the table closer to her face.

“That’s a huge rock.”

“7 carats.”

“Wow, as big as his dick.”

“Shut up.”

Sahra giggled. Her smile was contagious. She had the whitest, most perfect teeth that complimented her dark, glowing skin. Faye instantly melted, how could she ever get mad at Sahra?

“Planned a date yet?”

Faye sighed.

When Edgar proposed to her a year ago, she was ecstatic. She has always wanted to get married. Even as a little girl, she’d don her mother’s wedding gown and play wedding for hours until she got exhausted. When she met Edgar, everyone knew that they were going to last forever. He was perfect. A lawyer, just like her. Awfully handsome. He spoke French, Portuguese, Urdu and was picking up Japanese. Although they had only known each other for six months before he asked her to marry him, she knew it was the right thing to do. She always knew she got lucky with Edgar. But now, after a year of being engaged to that nearly perfect man, Faye was starting to get doubtful. Edgar was still perfect and loving. It was her. She was changing. And she couldn’t seem to help it.

“Nothing yet. He’s in Washington now. We’ve just been so busy with our cases, and now with this Nessa thing. I don’t know.”

“Hey. Don’t worry. Nessa’s going to come out of this scot-free, and we’ll all be together again. Like old times.”

Faye shook her head in disagreement, her emerald green eyes trained on her coffee mug.

“It won’t be like the old times. Not without Rose.”

Chapter 3

Knoxville wasn’t always so grim. There was a point of time, not long ago, where the streets would be full of life. The trees would stand proudly along the sides of the road, sheltering the residents of the town, rain or shine. Cars would pass through the perfectly paved roads night and day, the town never slept. The children would run around, screaming and playing with absolutely no care and concern of the outside world. Knoxville used to be a perfect little town.

That was before the passing of Mayor Huang. He was one of those small, round men with a genuine heart and a hearty smile that could win anyone’s heart. He had a loud and boisterous laugh that would echo throughout the entire room during the town’s annual ball. When he died, the new mayor took over and everything everyone knew about Knoxville changed. Especially Mayor Huang’s beloved daughter, Rose Huang. She was the only child and was always spoilt rotten by her parents. In school, everyone adored her - some even feared her. She had the same air of authority her father had. She would always be the first one to know about her friends’ problems and they would go to her first for advice on anything. Her brave heart was the backbone of her clique.

When her father died, Rose’s entire life turned upside down. She was confused, mad and mostly, devastated. Confused because the death happened so sudden, no one saw it coming. Rose was mad at the universe for robbing her of someone she loved more than anything. Mad at her father for leaving her too soon. She was so young and barely had an understanding of the world. Devastation took over her life. She became quiet, sullen even. Her friends had to be careful while being around her. Her emotions became unpredictable.

Rose kept falling harder and harder until she was holding on to a fine, thin thread. Her friends never stopped trying to pull her back, but there was only so much they could do. They had their own issues too. Then one day, she met a boy while she was waitressing at a local bar. Bryce was unkempt, careless and rude. Everything Rose wasn’t. But like every other cliché movie, she fell for him. And he fell for her too. For a while, he kept her in a bubble, where the rest of the world was irrelevant. He kept her happy most of the time. And on nights where she would miss her father, he held her until she fell asleep. Then one day, the thread snapped. The saga of Bryce was just a faded memory. This time, Rose did not get confused, mad or devastated. She was just done. She packed her things and left Knoxville without another word.

So when Rose landed back in town that evening, she couldn’t decide what to do next.

It feels completely peculiar to be back. Everything seems so foreign.

Sahra’s always been adventurous and a little bit of a daredevil. She got her first job at the age of sixteen at the local supermarket. The first to get a job amongst her group of friends. She was the fastest check-out cashier her manager had ever seen. She was independent and always knew what she wanted. She left that job and went on to work in many different places around Knoxville while juggling with school. Until one day, she got her calling for an internship at a photography firm. That was that. Sahra became infatuated with the idea of capturing images and keeping them as memories forever. She worked night and day and finally purchased her first camera. Five years later, she was working in one of the most prestigious journalism firm as a photojournalist. People would put all their money on the table to get her to work with them. She got to travel everywhere and saw many things. She loved her job. Her sense of adventure and daredevil attitude paid off after all.

So exactly why was she holding a bat, creeping down the stairs at 11:45PM, scared out of her wits over a noise that she might have possibly imagined?

“Please let it be a cat… Or a tree branch.”

She held her hand out to the doorknob, the other hand gripped tightly onto the baseball bat. She took a deep breath and swung open the door.

Nessa swooped in and in one swift motion had her hand around Sahra’s neck, clasping her mouth shut tightly. The girl was small but goodness was she quick.

“If you scream, I’ll use that bat on you, I swear to god.”

She let Sahra go and was already unfastening her coat’s buttons.

“Why are you sneaking around like a thief?? I could have knocked you out! I could’ve committed a murder!”

Nessa rolled her eyes, her face was a mixture of exasperation and exhaustion.

“You won’t even hurt a fly.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Faye told me to come in from the back door. And I could ask you the same question.”

Sahra furrowed her brows.

“Faye offered to let me stay with her.”

“That’s awfully generous of her.”

“Why’re you being so snippy?”

“I just spent the last 48 hours behind bars, so excuse me if I’m a little snippy.”

Faye came down the stairs, pulling her hair into a top knot. She was in a pink bathrobe, and had just removed all the make up for the day. She still looked effortlessly beautiful.

“What’s with all the bickering?”

“Ask her. She came down here with a bat.”

“Wh- I thought it was a burglar! I was trying to protect myself…!”

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Sahra, go get the wine bottle from the kitchen.”

Sahra heaved a sigh of defeat and marched into the kitchen. The girls always listened to Faye. Queen Faye, they would tease her. Faye looked at Nessa, concern filled her eyes, the same way they have after all those years.

“Are you okay?”

Nessa nodded, managing a soft smile towards the blonde’s direction.

“Never better.”

“Good. Sit. Lets talk.”

Chapter 4

“Did you do it?”

“You’re really asking me this? Have you no faith in me?”

“I just have to ask.”

Faye held Nessa’s gaze for a few more seconds and finally gave in. She took a sip of her wine. Smooth. Just about the right amount of sweetness. The after taste lingered in her mouth moments after she’s swallowed the blood red liquid. She really needed that after the day she had. But she could hardly imagine what Nessa has been through in the last two days. She looked dishevelled. Which was so unlike her. She always seemed so put together.

After years of being around Nessa, Faye understood that she always wanted to seem like she was fine, no matter what was happening to her internally. She never wanted anyone to worry about her. She was the kind of person who would cry herself to sleep, wake up the next morning, conceal her puffy eyes with make-up and go about the day without giving a thought to her problems at hand. Faye always admired her strength.

To see one of her best friends so out of place, tired and vulnerable, she felt completely helpless. She had to get her out of that mess.

“I can’t believe Trevor’s dead. It seemed like it was just yesterday that we would past him down the hallway in school. He was so handsome.”

Sahra hiccuped.

God she’s such a light-weight, Nessa thought.

“How’s Ruby taking it?”

“Well, he wasn’t the greatest husband. They got married young, fell right out love. Splat. Heard she might be having an affair.”

Nessa said matter-of-factly and Faye shot her a look.

“WHAT? Our sweet Ruby? An affair? Wow, you leave for two years and you miss out on all of the town gossip.” 

Faye feigned a light chuckle. 

“No one told you to leave, silly. It’s been so quiet without you around. You and Rose.” 

“Right, Rose.” Said Sahra.

The girls went quiet, staring at their wine glasses. If their lives were a movie, that would be the part where a montage of flashbacks from their teenage years starts to screen, with probably a very sappy song.

“Do you think she’s forgiven me?”

Nessa looked at the girls, her face hopeful. Faye squeezed her hand assuredly.

“She’s your friend, she loves you. Of course she’s forgiven you.”

Nessa smiled, grateful.

“Stay over tonight. We’ll have a sleepover, like old times.”

It did not take much to convince Nessa. She might deny it if asked but she really loved being with the girls. She felt comfortable and safe with them. She feigned a sigh of exasperation.

“Finee, as long as you don’t call it a slum-”

“SLUMBER PARTY!”

Sahra cut her off by exclaiming before breaking into a fit of drunken giggles.

Rose collapsed on her motel bed and the mattress springs creaked underneath as if screaming to escape her weight. The motel was absolutely rubbish. She had to ask for new sheets after the witnessing a mysterious stain on the one before and the toilet was clogged when she first got in. It took her fifteen minutes to get someone on the line to assist her with her toilet problem.

She didn’t have a choice. She was quickly running out of cash and had to find the cheapest accommodation option. It was fine. Just for the night. Tomorrow, she would’ve mustered all her courage to go face the girls. They would have many questions and she had all the answers.

She also needed to see Nessa. She was studying her photo on the local newspaper. That girl never changed. Her bright blue eyes were so prominent it was like she was staring directly at Rose through the paper. Her skin was clear and her complexion glowed. Damn the Italian genes. Something did change though. It was in the headlines. Nessa was suspected to have been involved in the murder of Trevor Hoffman. Nessa was capable of many things but murder? Rose could not imagine that. Trevor was their friend. She couldn’t have.

But there was this small voice in her head that said that perhaps, just the tiniest bit of chance, the accusation might be true. After all, Nessa did betray her. Rose felt something bitter in her mouth. It felt disgusting. She shut her eyes, letting the scene play in her head.

She had just got back from school one afternoon and decided to take a different route which led to Bryce’s house. They barely got to see each other on afternoons as she spent her days in school and he spent his at work. She thought she’d drop by and cook them something before he got back from work. Her heart started to flutter at the thought of getting to see her boyfriend. When she was heading to the bathroom in his house, she noticed that his bedroom door was ajar and noises were coming out of it. Out of sheer curiosity, she pushed the door open and to her absolute horror, she found Bryce under the sheets with a girl.

Not just any girl. Nessa.

She felt her heart fell into her stomach and tasted something bitter in her mouth. She did not want to cry. Crying was the last thing on her agenda. But before she knew it, hot tears were gushing down her cheeks. Wasn’t that always the case? Everything became a blur and she could hear someone screaming profanities shrilly. It was her. She was screaming. And crying. And rushing down the stairs to get as far away from that god forsaken house as she possibly could. Trevor was running after her, trying to get her to stop and listen. She wanted to. She wanted to stop and look at him and allow him to explain that what she just witnessed was not what it seemed. That the girl on his bed was not one of her best friends. However, she kept walking. Faster and faster. Until she could see the outline of her house from a distance. She was never leaving her room ever again.

Chapter 5

It felt really good. That was exactly what she needed. The smell of shampoo invaded Faye’s nostrils. Peppermint and something spicy. Cinnamon. It drove her nuts. She pressed her lips on the supple skin of the person she was hugging. She has been going back and forth to the courthouse in the last few days. She really needed this. She opened her eyes groggily, the sheets were wrapped around them so tightly, she couldn’t physically get anymore closer to her partner.

Fuck. No. No, this is wrong.

Every single time she did it, she goes through the entire process of pleasure followed by guilt and ends off with self-hate. She loathed herself for that but she kept going back. Why does she keep going back? She studied the brunette woman fast asleep beside her. Even in her sleep she was breath-taking. Her hair spilled over her shoulder all the way down to her breasts, her lips were full and pouty. She snored ever so softly, she was still dreaming. Perhaps dreaming of an alternate universe where Faye and her could be together, Faye thought foolishly.

Faye always knew there was something different about her. Growing up, in high school, when the girls in the locker room went on and on about the boys in the football team, she would find herself checking those girls out. And when she kissed a girl on a dare at a senior party one night, she went home to pray for the first time in years. She thought she was going crazy, she could never imagine being gay. Not even for a second. It took all her will and might to suppress her feelings and bottle it in the deepest pit in her guts. She vowed she would never think or speak about it. Then she met Edgar, and he was really nice. But when she slept with him, or even kissed him, she didn’t feel anything. She couldn’t feel anything. She tried, she really did.

Three months after the engagement, she had a nervous breakdown. She was trying to find her car in the parking lot, she searched everywhere. All the cars started to look the same. She teared up, tried to scream but no sound left her mouth. A woman walked up to her. Asked her if she was okay. She took Faye back to her place and that was the first time she felt something in bed. Every time she told herself that it was going to be the last time she saw that woman, it never was. She was addicted to her. Addicted to her touch, scent and the way she made her feel.

The woman in Faye’s arms moved a little. She turned to look at her, smiling sleepily.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Faye felt a tingling sensation below her waist. Edgar never called her gorgeous.

“Morning, you.”

She kissed her, full on the mouth. That was how she wanted to wake up for the rest of her life. With sweet, sweet Ruby right next to her.

Chapter 6

SIX YEARS AGO

“Nessa..! Wait up.”

Nessa turned to see Trevor catching up with her. She looked at her watch, 03:30PM, she had to leave to go help her aunt and uncle at the shop.

“Walk and talk, Trev, I don’t have time.”

“Uhh, okay. Wanna partner up for the Chemistry project?”

“You wanna partner up with me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him skeptically.

“Yeah, unless you already have someone else.”

Nessa stopped in her tracks and studied the dark auburn haired boy. He had a nice chiseled jaw, Nessa bet her life it could cut glass. His hair ran down the nape of his neck and rested on his shoulder nicely. Now, if it was any other guy, Nessa would have wanted to grab the nearest pair of scissors she could find and chop all of it off. But his hair complimented his face really well so she made an exception. And his dimples. Goodness his dimples. They were like craters on the moon. They dug deep into his cheeks, he could probably store things in them.

“What game are you playing, Hoffman?”

He chuckled lightly, flashing his goddamned dimples.

“No game. I promise. We’ll help each other out. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Ugh, fine. I really have to go.”

Nessa took off without another word. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, halfway done with their project that she found out that Trevor did have an ulterior motive of partnering up with her. It was to probe her about her lab partner Ruby Weston. He apparently had been watching Ruby for quite a while. What motivated him was she would sometimes catch him looking at her and she would smile back.

Nessa decided to take the fate of their love story upon her. She practically stuck the cupid’s arrow up their asses and made sure they were an item before they graduated. Just a few months later, a rumour started to spread like wildfire. Ruby was pregnant with Trevor’s kid. Except it wasn’t much of a rumour as it was the truth. He was ecstatic when she told him. He always dreamt of being a father. Ruby on the other hand, quite the contrary. 

PRESENT DAY

Sahra never understood how people could bear to make speeches about their loved one who was already dead. She couldn’t imagine ever doing it. That was probably because she never had someone close to her die before. Well, apart from Trevor Hoffman. They practically grew up together. That was perhaps why she was sitting in the first few rows in the funeral home as his lifeless body laid in the open casket before them.

She was asked to make a small eulogy for Trevor. She wrote it all down only the night before. Crumpling paper after paper because she felt they weren’t good enough. She fiddled with the paper in her hands as she watched Trevor’s wife walk up to the podium. She was petite and the devastation plastered on her face only made her look even more frail and tiny. It was painful to look at her. Poor girl.

“Trevor was the love of my life. He was kind, gentle and loving. He could never make anyone unhappy. Well, until now. He finally managed to upset everyone sitting here by leaving this world too soon.”

Ruby had to swallow the lump in her throat, she grabbed the glass of water with her trembling hand, chugging down the drink as if it was the only thing that could keep her alive. She cleared her throat when she was done.

“Trevor would have wanted-”

Everyone had their heads turned towards the door at that moment. The girls had to pick their jaws up from the chapel ground. Rose Huang. She was there. Standing by the doorway. She managed the smallest apologetic smile to the crowd and hastily found an empty seat at the back. The girls were still astounded. The rest of Ruby’s eulogy went on as blur as the girls tried to comprehend Rose’s sudden presence in their lives again. Trevor was least closest to Rose yet she still came to his funeral. What was she really in Knoxville for? Did she hear about Nessa’s trouble with the police? All the questions went through the girls’ heads as they impatiently waited for the funeral procedure to end.

An hour later, it was Faye who noticed Rose outside the chapel, chatting away with some familiar faces. She grabbed onto the girls and dragged them towards her before losing sight of her again.

“Rose.”

Faye called out.

Rose slipped out of the conversation politely to face the girls.

“Hey.”

“Hey? That’s all you got? Hey??”

Sahra shook her head, ridiculed.

“Rose Christie Huang, you left without so much of a word, god knows where you went, we all thought you were dead and you say HEY??”

“Fine. Hello. How are you girls?”

Faye pulled Rose in for a hug before Sahra could start yelling at her again.

“We missed you, Rose.”

Rose resisted just a bit before finally giving in and hugged Faye back. She missed them too. So much. But she was there for bigger reasons. Sahra sighed in defeat and squeezed Rose’s arm, smiling softly at her.

“Glad that you’re back.”

“Yeah, I got back a few days ago.”

“A few days? And it took you this long to come see us?”

“Yeah, I needed time to adjust being back.”

“Right, where are you staying?”

Faye looked at her, concerned.

“In a motel nearby.”

“Nonsense, I’ll drive you back, we’ll get your things. You’ll come live with me.”

Rose predicted Faye would say something like that. She nodded half-heartedly. Her eyes averted towards Nessa.

“What in the world are you wearing?”

Nessa shrugged.

“It’s a black dress.”

“So you just wear the same things you wear to the club, to a funeral? Good to know.”

The raven-haired girl stared at Rose intently, then she smiled.

“I am going to go have a smoke, scuse’ me, ladies.”

Nessa took to her heels and walked farther away from the girls.

Chapter 7

Trevor and Ruby had a little victorian house at the end of Lavender Street. On normal days, the area would be quaint, almost lifeless. Not many people lived in that part of town other than the few young parents who were low income earners, still trying to figure life out. That day, Ruby opened her house to close friends and relatives, she pulled out the good china and put fresh white flowers in a fancy vase to put on the coffee table. It was as if she was commemorating Trevor’s life when he was living and breathing instead of mourning the loss of it.

“Ruby.”

“Faye, stop. Not now, not here.” Ruby was arranging the flowers in vase, trying to make absolutely no eye contact with the blonde girl.

Faye furrowed her brows in a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“What? I just want to talk. Rube, look at me.”

“People are going to notice us.”

“People has literally zero clue what’s going on, they’re all mourning for your stupid hus-”

Faye pressed her hand on her hot, flushing cheek. Ruby had interrupted her with a slap across her face and was now staring at her angrily. Faye stared at her in disbelief.

“Have some respect, he’s my husband.” Ruby left her standing, dumbfounded.

“What the fuck was that?” It was Nessa, she had just witness the bizarre situation.

“She can’t just behave that way, I know her husband just died and all but she doesn’t get to be a bitch, I’m going to go fight her.” She tried rushing after Ruby only to be pulled back by Faye. The blonde was a head taller than her, and stronger. She could’ve certainly fought Ruby on her own if she wanted to.

“Forget it. It was my fault, I said some dumb things.”

“Well, it must have been something, she looks pissed.”

Faye sighed and in that moment she promised that she was going to end things with Ruby.

Sahra was leaning over the snack table, nit-picking at the different types of snack, that was her go-to activity at social gatherings, sometimes she even made it into a game; how many snacks could she try until she got sick.

“What’re you doing?” A man who had appeared at the snack table questioned her.

She shrugged matter-of-factly. “Never seen a grown girl eat?”

“I’ve never seen anyone in particular who picks on their food like that. That caviar is for garnish, it’s not an actual snack.”

Sahra observed the man standing in front of her. He was not much older than she was. His skin was pale white with a underlying tinge of yellow. His hair was neatly cut that stayed on the top of his head, like soldiers at war she witnessed back in Iraq. His cheek bones pointed proudly towards the air and he had the darkest pair of eyes that gave him a naturally angry look. He was undeniably handsome. And a douchebag.

In sheer rebellion, Sahra grabbed a plate and scooped the rest of the caviar garnish onto her plate. This time, his frowned shifted into an amused smile. Oh wow, he’s really pretty.

It was her turn to frown. “What’re you smiling at? Do I look like a joke to you?”

He started to chuckle.

“That’s it, I don’t have to take this from you.” Sahra turned to leave.

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just your rebellious demeanour is the funniest thing I’ve seen today.”

“Oh. Well, get used to it, chump.” She looked at him, her arms crossed. Her insides was fluttering. The setting sunlight was resting on his face, she realised his eyes had lightened up a little; the darkest shade of brown.

“Officer Reynolds, didn’t realise you knew Trevor.” Faye leaned against the table next to Sahra.

“Not personally. And I’m actually here on duty, not as a guest.”

It was Nessa’s turn to intervene. “In other words, you’re here to keep an eye on me.”

Sahra watched the man’s reaction. She felt a pang of betrayal. He didn’t actually flirt with her or anything, but he should have mentioned something about being a cop on the case, she would not have even bothered talking to him.

“If you’re trying to get information out of our innocent friend here, Officer, you’re out of luck. She’s on our side.” Faye said calmly, smiling knowingly at Sahra.

The man wasn’t shaken by Faye. Which was unusual. Faye always had an air of superiority; some people wouldn’t even look at her in the eyes when speaking. He wasn’t afraid of her.

“You’re not the only one I’m keeping my eyes on, Russo. Everyone in this room is a suspect.”

Sahra could swore he glanced at her whilst saying that. She was done, she wanted out of the conversation. As if by god’s grace, Rose beckoned her to the other side of the room and she took off too quickly without looking at the handsome man - even though she really wanted to.

“They found new evidences on the crime scene. Looks like I’ll be seeing the both of you down at the station sooner than I thought.”

“Nice try, Park, but whatever you say is never going to get to us. My client is innocent and the sooner you realise that, the better.” Faye retorted.

“And the sooner you realise your delinquent friend is the culprit, the better.” He nodded at the ladies and walked off.

Nessa’s angry gaze followed the young officer. The fucking nerve of that guy. After a few moments, she shook it off and a sense of gratitude for Faye swelled in her heart. If anyone was going to get her out of trouble, she was glad it was her. Faye never loses.

Chapter 8

FIVE YEARS AGO

“How could you do this to me?? What have I ever done to you??” Rose was hysterical.

Nessa had gone to visit her after the incident even though the other girls warned her not to; to let her calm down first. But Nessa being Nessa, wouldn’t listen to anyone so she somehow managed to persuade Faye to join her and they set off to her house with great caution.

Rose was holding onto Nessa’s t-shirt, glaring at her, screaming in her face. She was crying again. She always cried when she got angry and she absolutely hated that. Nessa didn’t try to resist, she knew she deserved it. She was just waiting for her to settle so she could explain herself.

“Rose, I’m sorry. But we were in love.” She explained.

“We didn’t mean for it to happen but it did! We were going to tell you. I swear we were going to tell you on that day itself.” She continued.

“How long has it been going on for?” Rose questioned her although she really didn’t want to know the answer.

“We’ve been talking for 3 months. We only… We only slept together that one time, I promise.”

“Is that suppose to make me feel better?”

“Of course not, Rose. Look, you deserve every right to be mad. But I swear to you, we had no intention of hurting you.”

Rose swung her arm and was about to struck Nessa’s face with her hand when Faye caught it just in time.

“That’s enough.” 

She told Nessa she was going to sit out of it and let the two girls talk but she wasn’t going to let any one of her friend slap the other.

“You heard her Rose. She fucked up. No one expects you to forgive her but dammit, violence isn’t gonna solve anything.”

“You’re on her side?” Rose stared at the blonde girl in disbelief.

“I’m on nobody’s side. I just don’t want to see my friends fight.”

“Oh cut that out, Faye. You’re constantly fighting her battles. Mark my words, one day she’s going to drag you into the deepest pits of hell and you’re going to regret it.” She warned her.

PRESENT DAY

Nessa was spending the afternoon in Faye’s kitchen. Faye had a whole cabinet that stored various bottles of alcohol; it was a haven for Nessa. In return of using her alcohol collection, Nessa would let her try whatever she created first for reviews. She always enjoyed them. Then again, she could just be biased. She was so busy concocting a new cocktail recipe for her bar that she didn’t hear Rose coming in.

“Hey.” Rose greeted coldly.

“Sup.”

“What’s that?” She gestured at the mess on the kitchen isle.

“Something for the bar.”

“Right, the bar. It’s been what, two years now?”

“Yeap.”

“And business is doing well?”

“Splendidly.”

“Great.” Rose turned to head upstairs.

“Rose, wait.” Nessa called out hurriedly.

Rose turned to look at her. She hasn’t changed much, Rose. Her beautiful sandy complexion was as smooth and ageless as Nessa could remember.  She was curvy, her hips stuck out too much, they looked like they could destroy things that came in contact with them. Rose absolutely loved that about herself. Her hair changed. She had long jaded black hair but it was covered with full-fledge purple hair dye. It suited her. She looked ethereal.

“Are we good?” Nessa asked uncertainly.

“Depends on what you mean. Good because I’m over you cheating with my boyfriend behind my back or good because I don’t think you’re a murderer?”

“Well, both.”

Rose thought about it for a good few seconds. Then she grabbed Nessa square on her shoulder and threw a punch right into her guts. She was a black belt in taekwondo so that must have hurt. Nessa was too. That was actually how they met.

Nessa was caught off guard and winced on the ground. She glared at Rose, got up and lunged herself at the other girl. They began to wrestle each other on Faye’s kitchen floor only to break it up minutes later with fits of hysterical laughter as they lie on the ground side by side.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Rose assured the smaller girl after calming down.

“What happened to Bryce anyways?” She asked. 

Nessa stared up at the ceiling, she didn’t look sad or mad. It was a listless, unreadable expression. Something that was always visible on her face.

“He left me for some other girl. Ran off to California together to try out acting or something.”

“Yikes. You deserved that.” Rose looked at her.

Nessa averted her eyes at her, she wasn’t offended by Rose’s remarks. She knew she deserved it. Bryce cheated on Rose with her, who was to say he wouldn’t do it again.

“But I don’t believe you killed Trevor. I’m on your side. Faye, Sahra and I are going to help you get out of this. If that’s the last thing we do.”

In that moment, the two girls sat up and stared at each other as they heard a voice coming from the living room. Faye wouldn’t be back from the firm till late and Sahra had an important meeting with some TV producers that afternoon. The girls got up and quietly made their way into the other room.

Chapter 9

Rose and Nessa were practically on their toes, careful not to make any noise as they snuck into the living room. They spotted a figure at the door and stared at each other. They were ready to pounce on the intruder when the figure turned and they recognised him.

“Clive?”

The man turned to look at the girls, blinked for a moment, trying to recognise their faces.

“Ohmygod, Nessa? Rose?”

Rose ran into his arms for a hug.  

“What’re you doing here??” Rose asked excitedly.

“I heard my sister’s back in town. So I thought I come down and visit. And then I saw the paper…” He looked at Nessa.

“Hi.” She greeted him.

He smiled his boyish smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Didn’t you see it in the papers? I’m doing great.” She informed him.

“Oh, don’t bother her, she’s just grumpy cause I tackled her and won.” Rose argued.

Clive chuckled, his eyes still fixed on Nessa.

“The last time I saw you two, you were still kinda chubby and you had black hair.”

Nessa shrugged. “Yeah well, people change.”

Faye walked down the hallway as fast as she could. She was panting. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She hated how getting a little physical made her sweat gallons; she hated to sweat.

But she couldn’t help it. Her paranoia was getting the best of her. She turned to see if someone was there. Not a soul. She was sure she heard footsteps. Maybe it was her anxiety playing tricks on her. But back in the bathroom, she swore she felt someone watching her. She couldn’t leave the courtroom, her next hearing was at 04:00PM. She had to find somewhere to hide for a bit, to calm the nerves; maybe pop a pill or two.

The blonde rushed into the supply closet few feet away from her and shut the door tightly behind her.

Okay, calm down, you’re fine, stop fussing.

The next moment, she felt a force over her mouth and she was gasping for air, trying to break free from the tight grasp. She tried screaming but the force was stronger than her. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that maybe she might wake up from the awful nightmare but instead she felt a hard impact on the back of her head and she was out. Blank.

“How long are you gonna be here for, Clive?” Sahra asked her brother before she popped another forkful of lettuce in her mouth.

“Maybe until you leave again.”

“That’s gonna take a while. I have to at least make sure this one over here doesn’t have to rot in jail for the rest of eternity.” She gestured at Nessa who was playing with her food.

It was 08:30PM and Faye wasn’t picking up any of their calls. The rest of the girls were convinced that she might still be stuck at work except Nessa. This was unusual for Faye. She always had her phone in case one of her friends or Edgar was trying to reach her.

“Ness, eat. Faye’s finee, she’s a big girl, she can certainly take care of herself.” Rose assured the smaller girl.

“I think I’m done. I’ll do the dishes.” Nessa hated doing the dishes but she needed a distraction.

“I’ll help.” Clive volunteered. He got up and joined Nessa in the kitchen.

“Are you alright?” He trained his eyes at her, concerned and a little caution hinted in his baby blues. Sahra was always jealous that her twin got the better features compared to her. He got their mother’s eyes. And her beautiful soft hair too. Sahra got her dad’s big poofy hair that she used to hate and had only begun to appreciate when she was older. The both of them got their mother’s butt, she needn’t complain about that. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve always been a bad liar.”

“God, Clive, I’m fine. What do you want me to say? That I’m falling apart? Should I cry on your shoulder?”

He furrowed his brows. “How’d you got into this mess anyways?”

Nessa clenched her jaw. There was something about Clive that always made her tick.

“Why do you care? You left to go live your dreams, didn’t you? You have better things to worry about.”

“You’re so bitter.”

She turned to stare at him. “Bitter? Don’t flatter yourself, honey.”

He smiled, way too amused for his own good.

“It’s not flattering when it’s the truth. In fact I think you’re jealous of me.”

Nessa was furious now but she tried not to show it. She let out a scoff.

“Jealous of what? You? You’re so full of yourself, Jackson.”

“Am I, Russo?” He was inching in closer towards the tanned girl. Nessa backed away until she was pressed against the kitchen counter, looking up at the man who was much, much taller than her.

“You left.” She spat the words at him.

“You didn’t ask me to stay.”

“God, do I have to tell you to do everything?”

“No. But I felt like I didn’t have a reason to stay.”

“You’re an idiot.” “Then why do you like me so much?”

“I don’t.”

“Fine. You don’t.”

He was about to move away when Nessa grabbed his arm and kissed him hard. He didn’t hesitate for a second and kissed her back, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer. After what felt like hours, she pulled away, staring at him, gasping for air.

“I don’t.” She crashed her lips on his again.

Chapter 10

“Still no calls from her. I don’t get it. It’s freaking midnight. She should be home by now.” Nessa exclaimed, trying Faye’s phone for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah, I’m worried. We should call the cops.” Sahra suggested.

“And say what? Our 23-year-old friend isn’t picking her phone up? Guys, come on.” Rose was the next rational one after Faye.

“But we should try looking for her. Where are some places she could possibly be? We’ll split up. Me and Nessa, Sahra you go with Clive.” Rose instructed.

“I’ll come with you, Rose. Nessa should go with Clive. We should all have our share of black belts.” Sahra reasoned even though that wasn’t entirely her motive. She saw Nessa and Clive in the kitchen earlier. Sucking each other’s face off. At first she was horrified, but she always read little hints of her twin’s and her best friend’s secret affair. Just because they didn’t say anything, it didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

Clive nodded at Sahra, if she didn’t know better, he was quietly thanking her.

“Lets go then.” Rose got up and grabbed her car keys.

The sun had risen, the night had turn to day. Sahra was sound asleep on the armchair and the two other girls were on the other couch fast asleep, heads resting on one another. Clive came downstairs and looked at them. They had no luck trying to find Faye the night before. They looked everywhere they possibly could until an hour before the sun rose. They eventually went back to Faye’s, crashing on the couch out of exhaustion. Clive had gone into the kitchen to make some coffee when he heard a key being inserted into the keyhole at the front door.

This jolted Sahra into consciousness. She was always a light sleeper. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the opening door. It was Faye. Her hair was tousled, her clothes a little crinkled but other than that, she was fine, unscathed.

“Faye!” Sahra exclaimed, rushing towards her. “What the hell?? Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere for you the entire night!”

Sahra’s yelling woke the girls up and now everyone was staring at the dishevelled blonde woman at the door.

“I was- Clive? When did you get here?”

“Just yesterday.” Clive replied.

“Don’t try and change the subject, Faye! What happened to you?”

Faye sighed, tossing her keys into a bowl sat on the table next to the door, out of forced habit. “I had to leave town to go see Micael.”

“What? Is he okay?” Sahra’s anger vanished instantly, replaced with concern for Faye’s brother.

“He’s fine. The care worker called, told me that he missed me. I went to go see him. It was on a whim, I didn’t have much time to tell you guys.” Her eyes avoiding the girls’. 

“Don’t even worry about it, Faye. We’re just glad you’re fine.” Nessa assured her, her eyes fixed on her, watching every bit of expression on Faye’s face.

“There, problem solved. Anyone want some coffee?” Clive asked the room.

“I am going to take a nap, no one take any calls.” Faye called out as she climbed the stairs. She could not tell the girls the truth, not yet at least.

The doorbell went off just then and Nessa attended to it. Faye stopped in her tracks, midway up the stairs to turn and see who was at her front door. The rest of the girls and Clive poked their heads over Nessa’s. For a split second, Nessa’s heart fell when she saw the two uniformed cops standing in front of her. Then, she regained her composure, throwing them a loathsome look.

“What? Here to take me downtown for another questioning? How’d you even know that I would be here? Are y'all stalking me?” She asked in the most spiteful way she could manage.

“Actually, not this time Russo. We’re here for your friend.” Officer Regent answered, gesturing at the people behind Nessa.

Everyone turned to look at Faye who was standing completely still on the stairs.

“Sahra Jackson, you’ll have to come down to the station with us. We have evidence that you are involved in the murder of Trevor Hoffman. We have a warrant.”

Everyone averted their stares from Faye to Sahra. They could not believe what they had just heard. But no one said or did anything as Officer Regent made her way towards the girl and cuffed her hands with the silver bracelets. Even Sahra didn’t put up a fight as the officers led her out of the house and tucked her into the back of their police car. The neighbours were all coming out of their houses to witness the spectacle. Sahra looked at the girls through the car window as the cops drove off. They watched her go, their faces paralyzed with bewilderment.

Chapter 11

The story of Faye Newman was always one that was the hardest to tell.

She was fourteen, going on fifteen. An adolescent, still figuring out how her body and mind worked. Her hips grew outwards two sizes and her waist went in one. She prioritised her looks as much she did her studies. Although being a straight A student, she was still learning what certain things meant. Namely, love. She concluded that the thing she loved most in the whole world was her family. Her mother, father and little brother Micael. Her parents were renowned lawyers. They were great individually but even greater as a team.

As for Micael, he was three years younger than Faye. He was as clever as her. They could sit and talk for hours. Everyone who met them confidently predicted that they were going to do great things in the future, they were going to take over the world. Then one night, tragedy fell upon the Newmans.

They were coming home from dinner in new york, all four of them, when two deafening noises erupted and polluted the cold air. Micael screamed, witnessing blood pooled on his parents’ clothed chests. Their mother was killed instantly when the bullet shot through her. His father choked on his last few breaths before he lay motionless on the icy ground. Faye’s feet were nailed to the ground as she looked at her parents’ bodies. They were unconscious, unmoving but their beings were inconsequential to the world that went on around them. She couldn’t scream or even cry. She just stared at them for what felt like years. A passer-by called an ambulance and waited with the both of them until their parents were taken away.

The week after, they were back in Knoxville. Both of them underwent severe PTSD and no one could get through to them. Not even their aunt who was the closest next of kin they had. They were taken to therapists for treatments. With a heavy heart and much reluctance, Faye started to get better. She saw a gleam of light at the end of the tunnel, a hope that she would be able to feel better. She suffered from a few nervous breakdowns once in a while and had to be on medication for a really long time before the doctors deemed her fit to get off it. Whilst going through all of that, she found her drive to finish what her parents started. She studied law religiously, topping her class every bit of the way. She became indispensable in the world of law.

Her brother on the other hand, could not find a way out of his agony. He was extremely inconsolable, his parents death replaying five to five hundred times in his head on a daily basis. He took a wrong turn and an array of drugs and the countless of debts that came with it. He did everything he possibly could to numb the pain and stop the nightmares from getting in. Faye tried everything to pull her brother back but he was resistant, he didn’t want to be saved.

It wasn’t until six months ago that he was lying on the ground, mouth foaming as his life flashed before his eyes and he accepted the fate that he was about to die. His friends had ditched him in an abandoned apartment and he was left to take his last few breaths by himself. If it wasn’t for Faye who came in the last few minutes with the paramedics, he would’ve suffered the same fate his parents had but his would have been intentional. A long needle was plunged into his chest and Faye didn’t stop crying as she watched her little brother being brought back to life, fighting for air to return into his lungs. She wanted to hate him and hurt him but she held onto him for dear life instead.

He didn’t try to gamble with his life after that, he was sent to rehab but Faye accepted that her clever, quick-witted brother would never return to his old self. The drugs and PTSD fried his brain to the extent where the damage was done. She would visit him whenever she could or whenever he called for her. And every single time she did, it broke her heart.

That day when she had to use her brother as an excuse to cover the truth from the girls, it made her feel dirty. Would she ever find a way to forgive herself?

The story of Faye Newman was the hardest to tell and she kept it with her, every step of the way.

Chapter 12

“Your DNA was found at the crime scene.”

The girl had curls falling over her face, her fro had lost its volume as if giving in to the guilt she was feeling inside. She trained her eyes at the metal table in front of her, daren’t to look up at the officer in front of her. It was him, the man from Trevor’s funeral reception. Officer Randall? Reynolds? What was it?

Sahra pictured the ground under her chair splitting into half, swallowing her whole into the Earth’s core, far away from this situation.

“Did you visit Trevor Hoffman the day he died?” He asked gently but there was a hint of something else in his voice. It was firm, a tinge of authority.

She stayed quiet, almost motionless. She would call her lawyer but what was the point? She was at Trevor’s the day he was murdered. It was only the matter of time until the cops found out. The officer sighed exasperatedly, looking towards the see-through mirror on the left of the interrogation room before staring at her again. He knew there was no one behind the mirror, but he had to make sure, it was a force of habit.

“Look, if you don’t speak up, I can’t help you.” He said in hushed tones. “Help me help you. Were you at Trevor’s that day?” His was voice was mellow, eyes kinder than she’s ever seen them. She realised they were a dark shade of brown and not black like she had noticed the first time.

“Yes.” She forced out the answer. He nodded understandably.

“I swear I didn’t kill him. I could have, I wanted to but I didn’t. I knew what it would’ve costed me. I’m not stupid.” Her eyebrows furrowed in anger and despair. Why the hell was she telling that man anything, he could use all that against her, she could end up in really hot soup. She never needed anyone’s validity, especially not a man’s. But for some reason she felt like he believed her. Like he could help her out of that mess.

“Where were you?”

“Nessa..”

“Where were you?” Nessa asked the blonde again, firmly.

“Our friend is being interrogated by cops right now, don’t you dare lie to me, Newman.” She warned Faye.

“He took me. It was a warning to keep quiet. He’s trying to scare me so that I would back out from the case and you’d be charged for it.”

 Nessa stared at her taller friend with a mixture of bafflement and terror painted on her face.

 “We have to do something.”

 “Agreed. And perhaps it’s time we tell Rose about this.”

 “She’s going to flip.”

“We can’t keep her in the dark anymore. Come on.” Faye beckoned the other girl. 

They made their way down to the living room and were greeted by Rose chuckling at something a man, who was sitting opposite her, said.

 “Guys, look who it is. You remember Jay.” Rose grinned.

Jay looked at the girls and smiled a charming smile. Nessa’s heart pounded rapidly in her chest, she believed it was going to break her ribs. Faye had lost all the color in her face. They stared at the intruder, terrified.

Sahra sighed a heave of relief when she saw her brother. She made it clear on the phone, when Officer Reynolds gave her the right to a phone call, that she didn’t want any of the girls at the station. It was like a game of musical chair of who was going to end up in jail next. She requested for Clive to come bail her out. He was her safest bet. He always knew never to ask questions unless it’s extremely necessary and Sahra admired that about him. It would literally kill her to not be able to know things about anything, she couldn’t help it, she was nosy being. Perhaps that was why she got caught in all that trouble. 

“Get in the car, you are going to explain everything.” Clive commanded. 

Oh, now he decides to embrace the nosy genes. 

“I didn’t kill him, you need to know that.” Sahra watched her brother as he drove tensely. 

She has never seen him so rigid. Where Sahra was boisterous and all exclamation points, Clive was calm and all semi colons. He has only ever been truly angry twice in his life. First, was when he found out their mother accidentally threw out his beloved collective baseball cards when he was nine. Second, was when he and Sahra was told that their parents were getting a divorce. His jaw twitched visibly. This would be the third time he was angry.

“Then why did the cops put you in jail, Sahra? Why did I just bail you out? How long have you been in Knoxville? All this time I thought you were in New York. On the phone, you told me you were in New York, you lied!”

He jammed the brake with his foot and the car threw forward dramatically before coming to a stop. He looked at his sister, his eyes filled with more hurt than anger. 

Sahra was outraged at her brother’s behaviour, mostly because she has never have to deal with him like that. 

“You’re no saint either. Sucking Nessa’s face off. Really pathetic.” She retorted before she could stop herself. 

The hurt in his eyes disappeared completely and was fully replaced with anger.

“Get out.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said get out.” 

“How am I gonna get home?” Sahra was at her wit’s end. 

“You can walk.” So was Clive. 

Sahra exited the car and slammed the door with all the ferocity she could conjure. Clive drove off immediately. That was the first time they have ever fought. 

Chapter 13 

Sahra and Clive agreed on three things when they learnt their parents were getting divorced. 

First: They would agree to share equal amount of time at both their mother’s and father’s place. Although they were initially hurt by the decisions of their parents’, they came to terms with it. They realised that they were going to have two bedrooms, two TVs, two of everything and their naive teenage brains gave in and made space for the extra incentives. It was only until they got older that they realised that divorce, although had it perks, would produce children who were more cautious of who they would surround themselves with. They began to overanalyse everyone they have ever dated and was extremely careful not to get hurt in a relationship. Alas, they had their parents’ curse of falling too hard and too fast which did not help their case at all. 

Their parents on the other hand had already moved on with their lives. Their father would go on one too many unsuccessful dates and was a victim of afternoon rum and Spanish soap operas. Their mother had found a decent man she was so fond of that she bore twins with him and was living a fulfilled life. It became harder for the siblings to spend time with their parents and their new lifestyle but they had a principle to stick to and would make every effort to meet up with their parents once in a while. 

Second: Help first, questions later. It took Sahra a little more convincing than necessary to agree to this one because of her intrusive, need-to-know-everything nature but she agreed to it in the end. It wasn’t hard for Clive because he normally minded his own business and was always willing to help with no expectations of anything in return. Sahra had managed to get away from many sticky situations with Clive’s help and almost all the time, he never asked her anything about it, which she really appreciated. And even though it almost killed her every single time, she’d do the same for Clive when he needed help. They were each other’s lifeboat. 

Third: They would never keep anything from each other. It was them against the rest of the world. When Sahra got the opportunity to carry on her photography work in New York, Clive was the first one she told. They have never been separated before - even agreeing to visit each of their parents’ house together - and it was news for Clive. He didn’t know how he would deal with things with his sister being away. Especially at that point when he discovered he had the biggest crush on one of Sahra’s best friend, Nessa. 

They were merely fooling around then but Clive was starting to catch feelings, he thought they were going to suffocate him. He hasn’t told Sahra yet and did not know how to. It wasn’t until he found out that Nessa was getting serious with this other guy she was fooling around with. Bryce Britman. He didn’t know the guy but he decided there and then that he was his biggest nemesis. It broke his heart and he confided in Sahra before she left. Instead of getting mad or weirded out, she sympathised with him. She asked him to come with her to New York, but he had other plans in mind. He left Knoxville not long after Sahra did under the pretence that he was going to chase his dreams but it was actually because he couldn’t face Nessa after that. 

Perhaps Sahra was getting at something when she called her brother pathetic. Clive did feel pretty pathetic because as soon as he saw Nessa again, all the hurt and anger was gone. He wanted her. Even after all this time, the feelings did not budge. So when she kissed him that night, he easily let his guard down, not even worrying about the consequences that came after. He knew what they were now. His sister was bothered by the entire thing. Although she had explaining to do, he did her wrong. Nessa was always her friend first. A pang of anguish washed over him as he realised what he had done. He needed to fix things with his sister and learn the entire truth of what went on the night Trevor Hoffman died.