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theasstour · 6 years ago

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0104. Allegro di molto.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

FIC PAGE | CHAPTER SYMPHONY | WORD COUNT: 7.1k

NB: explicit language, the doctor lol

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Becky groaned. “Someone stole some of my butter again.” She looked down into the open carton, a disgusted expression on her face. “There’s crumbs in it.”

“Bloody Ian again, I tell you.” Tiana said from her position by the kitchen table, eating her bowl of cereal.

“Minging.” Becky threw her butter away, taking her phone out to message the groupchat to complain, something Y/N thought Becky was rather good at. All the girls sat in the kitchen eating breakfast together, none in much of a hurry. Y/N was sitting by the window, watching a cat walk over the grass between house three and house five, chewing on a slice of toast with pâté, a glass of apple juice beside her. Annie – who was sitting next to Y/N – was done eating, and Tiana – sitting opposite Y/N – was still eating her cereal. It was quiet, no music blaring from Ian’s room and Finn, who seemed to have mates over, weren’t being as loud as he usually was. Calm, Y/N thought, leaning her head against the wall and taking another bite of her bread.

“By the way,” Becky said, crossing her arms and sighing dramatically. “Did you guys hear Harry Styles got lucky last Friday?”

Tiana gasped, face turning into an instant and interested grin. She loved gossip.

“Yea,” Becky nodded, looking almost offended. “He was snogging someone in the kitchen Molly said.”

“Molly who?”

“Jones, she’s a course mate of mine.” Becky explained. “Anyway, she saw him snogging someone in the kitchen, looking all fit in all black. She didn’t see her face.”

Tiana poked her bottom lip out, clearly sorry for Becky. For some reason, Y/N didn’t really know what to make of this. Harry had obviously been very drunk last Friday, and she wasn’t one to judge people, but she could not for the life of her understand why Becky would want to shag Harry when he was so plainly legless. Through all of this conversation, Y/N brought her glass up to take a sip of her apple juice, ignoring the tinge of curiosity inside her that screamed at her to find out who Harry had been making out with.

“Heard he shagged someone in the bathroom as well.” Tiana mumbled, making Becky groan.

“Why are men pigs?” She asked no one in particular, stomping her foot. “I mean,” she rolled her eyes. “Good for him, I guess, I just wish it had been me.”

“And so do we, babes, but your time will come and he’ll not be able to keep his hands off you.” Tiana reassured Becky, making her giggle. “How are you all liking your course so far, by the way?” Tiana asked, drinking the remainder of milk left in her bowl.

“Good.” Becky said, getting some apple juice from the fridge. “Thought some of the modules on Psychology sounded boring at first, but now it’s really fun. I love it.”

“That’s so nice!” Tiana smiled. “I’m really enjoying uni so far. It’s weird, I never pictured myself going to uni, but now I’m here and I’m really enjoying it. It feels like I just know what to do with my life now.” Tiana twirled a lock of hair around her index finger. “Which is very nice.”

Y/N, putting her glass down after having taken a sip, cleared her throat when Tiana looked at her. “It’s okay. I’m stressed out all the time, but I think that’s a part of it.”

“Oh, me too!” Becky groaned. “We have this essay due next week,” Becky gestured at Annie who was taking the same course, though Annie seemed to be somewhere else entirely. “And just choosing an essay question is stressing me out. I don’t even know how to choose one or how to research.”

“That’ll come naturally, like we’ll write so many essays our time here so when it comes to your dissertation your final year, you’ll know what to do.” Tiana reassured Becky, getting up and walking to the sink to clean her bowl. “I handed in my second essay yesterday, and just thinking about it makes me want to literally be sick.”

“An it’s such a big uni as well, so the lecturers aren’t as familiar with you or helpful as the were in Sixth Form.” Becky sighed. “I’m just scared I’m going to fuck it up.”

“You won’t.” Tiana said.

The two girls continued to talk while Y/N’s eyes landed on Annie, who hadn’t said a word. Not really knowing what to do in a situation like this one, Y/N only stared at her flatmate, unsure of what were the right words to say and scared of uttering the wrong ones. She took another bite of her toast, racking her brain for something to say to Annie, for something to get an easy conversation going between the two. But Y/N was lost of ideas this early in the morning, empty of anything resembling social skills. So, swallowing her toast, she looked down at her plate, noting how many crumbs hand landed on and around it. Suddenly, the sound of the kitchen door opening sounded, and Becky and Tiana’s conversation were brought to an abrupt stop. Y/N knew it would be one of the boys, most likely Ian who were late for yet another lecture. Y/N wondered how it was possible for someone to be that lazy, so unorganised that it was hard to show up on time for anything. Grabbing her glass, she took a long sip until she had emptied it, then put it back on the table.

“Which cupboard is Finn’s?”

Y/N’s eyes shot up. Heart racing, she saw the one and only Harry Styles standing by the door into their kitchen, letting the door fall shut behind him. He was wearing his glasses, hair as tousled as usual, a tight fitted white tee shirt on along with some beige trousers that were hooked to some brown suspenders. Trousers rolled up, his ankles showed, and a pair of taupe grey lace-ups covered his feet, making everything about him seem relaxed but very classy at the same time. Y/N had not imagined Harry to show up, and did not for the life of her know how to react. Were they friends? Should she give him a smile? Or was that too much? Should she ignore him and whip her phone out? Or would that be rude? Y/N was suddenly a little too aware of everything about herself. From the cream roll neck boxy jumper, to the black and yellow grid check trousers and white panelled curved sole trainers. For some reason, she drew a hand through her hair, hopefully looking a little more refreshed. She hadn’t even had the time to do her make-up yet. Why did he have to show up now? Of all times, now?

“That one.” Becky said, pointing to the one closest to the kitchen table and where Y/N and Annie were sitting.

“Cheers.” Harry started walking over to the cupboard, a slow smile stretching out across his lips as his eyes fell on Y/N. Biting her bottom lip, she watched as he walked closer, noticing the sway of his hips and the effortless beauty of him. She hated that she noticed these things about him because… well, he was annoying. So, for him to be unbelievably peng and at the same time make her want to drag all her fingernails out in frustration, to say she hated him for it would be to put it almost mildly.

Y/N drew her eyes away from him to see Becky’s mouth wide open and Tiana smile at her. Fanning herself, Becky made Tiana laugh and the two girls mouthed words to each other that Y/N could barely make out. Though she could read ‘fucking hell’ and ‘sexy’ when she saw it. As her eyes met Harry’s again, she saw he was already staring at her from the cupboard, the door open and yet to reach in and take a glass. Amusement reached his eyes and the tips of his lips as they twitched into an involuntary smile. Y/N noticed then, on the inside of his right arm, down from the inside of his elbow and down to his wrist, were a list of numbers. In a typewriter font, the list was long, some numbers with dots between them, and others standing alone. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the numbers stood for, what the meaning behind his tattoos was. His skin was bare besides those numbers, which meant, at least in Y/N’s head, that they had to be of some type of value to him. Only when Y/N looked at him did he get the glass he needed, closing the cupboard before he walked over to Becky and Tiana by the sink. His back was muscular, you could see his shoulder blades stretch against the fabric of the shirt, his shoulder so broad Y/N was wondering how often he worked out to maintain the build he had.

“Sorry, ladies.” Harry said, filling the glass with cold water before he walked over to lean against one of the fridges. Their eyes met again, and Harry smiled that lopsided beam of his, making Y/N blush. God, she hated him. He made her all… all… blushy. The door opened again, and this time Finn walked in with two other friends following him.

“Ahh, see you found me cupboard.” Finn said, giving Harry’s shoulder a slap before he opened on of the fridges and got a yogurt out. “Everybody,” he announced as he turned around from the fridge, looking at the girls of his flat. “You’ve already met Wade,” Finn gestured at the familiar face, and Y/N gave him a little smile when their eyes met. “And this is Sai, he’s one of Harry’s course mates, and he’s absolutely bloody insane.”

“I am.” Sai agreed, nodding his head. He was of Indian descent, Y/N noted, with dark hair, a slight beard and tall figure. Sai was the tallest of the gang, an easy grace about him that the others lacked. He was very charismatic, very charming, and it was hard to take your eyes off of him once you had recognised his beauty. Just like Harry, Y/N thought to herself. What?! No! Stop that! Jesus Christ! She ran a hand through her hair, eyes falling to Harry who was already looking at her, holding his glass of water to his chest. A curl had fallen in front of his glasses and he whipped it out of the way, chin tipped upward as that smug smile formed across his face, clearly liking when Y/N was looking at him. She looked away and at Finn.

Finn walked over to the table to sit down beside Annie, the rest of his gang following. Instant panic rose in Y/N’s chest as Harry walked to her side and sat down, putting his glass down on the table beside hers. His knee was just barely not touching hers, his elbow so close to her that she didn’t properly know how to breathe without coughing. Y/N didn’t hear a word of what Finn was saying, but it must’ve been something funny as all the boys laughed and so did Becky and Tiana who was standing beside the table. Y/N felt a little out of place, the whole situation overwhelming her as the only thing she could focus on was how the presence of Harry’s knee so close to hers sent a shiver of something up her spine. All she could think about was their last interaction at the Halloween party last Friday. How Harry’s pink lips had formed out the words she had chosen not to utter her whole life for a reason unknown to her. How good it sounded leaving his lips. How low the octave of his voice had been as he let his front teeth part from his bottom lip long enough to take her breath away. Y/N stared straight ahead as Annie who stared back at her, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Fuck.”

Y/N shoved away from the table, pushing the chair in and taking her plate and glass. Sai was talking and didn’t stop as Y/N walked over to the sink, pushing her sleeves up her arms before running water over her used kitchenware. It was hard not to look to her right and over at the table, see if Harry had even noticed her leaving, to see his reaction. But she bit her tongue and let herself focus on the task at hand, not letting the thought of Harry bloody Styles make her give in to stupid actions. Once she was done, she dried her plate and glass and put them both back in her cupboard, pushing the sleeved of her cream jumper down. Looking back at the table Y/N saw Becky sit down in her seat, giving Harry a smile as she did so. He returned it, and before he got to engage in the discussion about which café in Clapham they’d go chill at today, Becky was taking to him. She made him smile and Y/N bit her lip, not really knowing what she expected. Crossing her arms, she gave Tiana who was staring at her a smile, and then she walked to her room, being careful not to let the door slam behind her as she went.

“Try it again.” Teresa urged, giving Y/N an encouraging smile. The two were in one of the study rooms in the Arts building, rehearsing for their exam in exactly one month. Goddard had sent everyone off to go rehearse on their own, him sitting in their classroom if anyone needed help with anything. Y/N and Teresa had quickly ran off to find a study room where they could practise in peace and quiet. Y/N had listened to Teresa sing first, a beautiful cover of Hand of God by Jon Bellion that took Y/N’s breath away. And now it was Y/N’s turn. She had messed it up a few times already, the sheer nervousness of someone listening to her play taking over. Caprice No. 24 stood on a music sheet in front of Y/N, and she already regretted picking this piece. Niccolo Paganini was known for his Caprices, creating some of the hardest solo violin pieces to play. But Y/N wanted to impress her tutor. And to make herself proud.

Slowly, Y/N brought the violin up, resting it to her chin, and closing her eyes before bringing the bow up as she straightened her back. She started playing the piece, eyes shut, and heart filled with determination. She wanted – needed – to get it right, to know that she was capable to playing such a complicated and beautiful solo. Only opening her eyes to glue them to the music sheet before her, Y/N tried to forget where she was, what she was doing, and why she was doing it. Playing the violin usually calmed her; brought her to an instant state of belonging that she didn’t feel anyplace, anytime, anywhere but when she played the violin. It was weird how this simple action of playing music could bring her to a place so peaceful and euphoric, how the sound of the violin was her home. Her fingers glided over the strings, holding onto the neck so hard it started hurting her fingers.

And as quickly as she had disappeared off to the place of concentration and peace, Y/N lost it. She failed to hit a note, and once she started being slow and not hitting them, the rest followed. Groaning, Y/N lowered her violin and let her head slump against her chest, feeling so disappointed in herself that it was hard not to cry. Teresa didn’t say a word, just looked at Y/N as she tried to calm herself down, already knowing that there was no way she could comfort her new friend without accidentally making it worse. She just had to practise, day and night for another month, and she would know Caprice No. 24 inside and out. And that was really as she could do, because if she wanted to impress Goddard and get a first on this assignment and module, then she would have to nail it December 9th.

Teresa got up from her chair, putting her book into her rucksack. “Seminar is over in 5, wanna head out?”

Y/N nodded, putting her violin away in its case. She draped her navy puffer jacket on, a dark grey scarf around her neck, hauled the violin case onto her back and through both her arms like a rucksack, and put her natural cotton carrier with all her books and notebooks on her shoulder before the two walked out. Y/N excused herself to the loo and Teresa promised she’d text Y/N her library plans this weekend so they could head in together. The two friends parted ways and Y/N walked to the loo, dragging both her hands frustratingly through her hair. It was one thing to mess up a solo by yourself in your room, but doing it multiple times in front of someone else? Friends or not, Y/N was embarrassed Teresa had witnessed it, though she knew Teresa would never hold it against her or think her untalented, she still felt mad at herself. Once she was done in the loo, Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, staring herself down. A feeling of not belonging flooded her, like maybe she wasn’t doing the right course. Maybe she had done wrong applying and going to university, because she was clearly not good enough to play a single solo in front of one single friend. If she ever had hopes of playing in an orchestra, she would have to finish uni, but how would she do that when she could barely get through her first semester?

Tightening her scarf so it would shelter her from the harsh autumn winds outside, Y/N got her leather gloves out, putting them on before she exited the toilet. She walked through the corridor of seminar and lectures rooms, looking in through some of them while hooking her thumb through the straps of her violin case. She felt distant from everything, like maybe she should be home on Picot Farm tending to the Christmas trees her father would ship out to different parts of Hampshire and London soon. Maybe this wasn’t the place for her after all. Maybe she had been wrong.

“Y/N.”

She stopped in her tracks halfway through the huge foyer of the Antonin Artaud Building at the sound of a very familiar voice she had last heard this morning. Leaning by the wall leading into the corridor she had just walked out of, the same corridor she had her seminar every Tuesday, Harry stood. He wasn’t waring his glasses anymore, and the black Borg lined denim jacket with a brown cardigan underneath looked very cosy and comfortable. His suspenders and white tee shirt were visible, making Y/N instantly think back to this morning and how utterly at loss for words she had been at seeing him in her flat. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, Harry pushed away from the wall and walked over to her, the left side of his mouth tipping upward.

“Harry.” Y/N said, a little out of breath. “What are you doing here? Did you come with Finn?”

Harry let out a short chuckle, eyes falling to the ground between them before he looked up at her through his dark eyelashes. “No.”

“No?”

“Finn, Wade and Sai are still in Clapham. Came back because I know where you have your seminar on Tuesdays.”

Y/N blinked. “You… know where I have my seminars on Tuesdays?”

“Only on Tuesdays because that’s when I’ve seen you walk out of the same room Finn walks into.” Harry explained further, giving Y/N another smile. “You seem shocked. Are you creeped out by me yet?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N admitted, narrowing her eyes. “You’re so confusing to me.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, smile growing wider. “Am I now?”

“Yea, so confusing.” Y/N faced him head on. “One second you’re all quiet and don’t really care about anyone or anything. The next you show up in my kitchen early in the morning not even saying a single word to me. And then you show up outside the room I have my seminar ‘because that’s where you’ve seen me walk out of the same room Finn walks into’.”

“So, what you’re saying is you don’t get me?”

“Not at all.”

“Maybe you would start to if you gave me your number?”

Y/N was so dumfounded she found herself taking a step back. Never had anyone ever been this blunt and straight-forward with her before, and she wasn’t sure if she really liked it or wanted to ask what was wrong with him. But Harry just smiled at her, a dimple in his left cheek increasing in visibility as the silence stretched on between them. People were milling about, a quiet hum of voices rose around them, but Y/N couldn’t make out what any of them were saying or trying to get across because all she could think about was Harry before her. Harry; who she could not get a good grip of. Harry; who seemed cold one minute, but the next would turn around and give you one of those dimpled smiles. Y/N couldn’t pin point him, couldn’t point to one specific stereotype of men or characteristic and say that was Harry. Because everything about him kept surprising her.

“You’re thinking long and hard about this.” Harry said, chuckling. “Like to keep a lad waiting, ey?”

“Why do you want my number?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine if you don’t want to give it to me. Might break my heart a little, but it’s your choice, darling.”

“I’ll give it to you on one condition.” Y/N said, taking her gloves off to type her number into Harry’s phone. He smiled, getting his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“Anything.”

“Please don’t spam my phones with texts.”

Harry laughed, giving her his iPhone and watched as she punched her number into it.

“Fine,” Harry said. “Only if you please, for the love of God, don’t send me nudes.”

Y/N huffed, handing him his phone before taking her gloves back on.

“I know it’s going to be hard to resist, but please-“

“-Don’t you worry.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I won’t. I’m just scared you’re actually going to start texting me now. Like we’re friends.”

“You fucking wish.” Harry said, snickering.

“Wish you’d text me? No thanks, don’t want to talk to you more than absolutely necessary.” Y/N bit her lip, crossing her arms as she watched him write her name out as the contact name and then put his phone away in his pocket. Staring up at her, Harry looked so smug, like he had won again, and Y/N supposed he had. She had given in and given hi her number, hadn’t she?

“Heard you got lucky last Friday.”

It came out of Y/N before she was even registering what she was saying. Biting her lips together, she looked at Harry with her heart beating in her ears and mortification swimming along every veins of her body. You idiot. You absolute headless-

“What?” Harry frowned, sounding genuinely confused.

“You-“ Y/N stopped herself, clearing her throat as she found herself very uncomfortable talking about this. “You got some.”

“I did?” Harry put his hands on his hips, exhaling loudly. “If I did then I don’t remember much of it, which is a bloody shame, innit?”

Y/N frowned. “Becky said Molly told her she saw you snogging a girl in the kitchen and then heard you have a round in the bathroom.”

Harry laughed, throwing his head back and looking so confused and giddy Y/N couldn’t help but smile through her disoriented state. “The only girl I was with in the kitchen last Friday was you.” He said joyfully, eyes hidden behind his high cheekbones as he obviously found this all very funny. “And as for a round in the bathroom… I pissed in the back garden once and deeply regret it. Not something a Law student should be doing, is it?”

Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to the other, scratching at her jaw like she usually did when she didn’t really know what to say.

“And that was the only time I really went to the loo during that house party, am I afraid.” He explained, looking disgustingly satisfied with himself. “Seems like you’re my mystery girl, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“You study Law?” Y/N bit her lips together again, not knowing where all these questions were coming from and why she was so good at finding the most awkward way to ask them. He just told you all of this, and that’s what you end up wondering about? You absolute puff, Y/N thought to herself, hoping he didn’t find her too weird for changing the subject. Though he probably does, he most likely thinks I’m weird. Oh God, oh God.

Harry let out a single chuckle. “European Legal Studies.”

“And you didn’t shag someone last Friday?”

Harry shook his head. “Complete tosh. Was with me mates and on one occasion I talked to a mystery girl dressed as a vampire in the kitchen, but that’s about it, really.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile, and it seemed at the sight of it, Harry started smiling a little wider as well. “Hope you find that mystery girl of yours. Sounds like you have a Cinderella situation on your hands.”

Harry’s teeth showed and he chuckled. “Believe me, no one hopes I find her more than I do.”

Y/N looked down at the time on her phone, having planned a FaceTime date with Edward for when she got home from her seminar. She hated to keep him waiting.

“Say… if I asked the mystery girl out for a coffee at the Costa across campus next Friday at 5, do you think she would be up for it?”

Y/N looked up at Harry so fast she felt a pull in her neck. He was smiling at her still, seemingly knowing the exact effect he had on her, which made her wish he didn’t have said effect because it would make everything so much easier. Raising his eyebrows, Harry urged her to answer, to tell her if she was free or not. Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again. Opened it; closed it. Was he asking her out on a date? Or was this making plans with a friend? She simply could not tell. No one had ever asked her out before. Not like this at least, and she felt her heart quicken a little too quickly at the thought.

“Yes.” Y/N said, voice low.

“Wicked.” Harry smiled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sick. Can’t wait to meet her again.”

Y/N smiled back, not wanting for Harry to see just how much she was looking forward to it as well, so she turned around and started walking away. Mouthing an oh my God to herself on her way to the exit, Y/N fisted her hands into balls to contain herself until she at least was out of sight of Harry.

“Y/N!”

She stopped, looked over her shoulder at him.

He motioned at the violin case on her back. “Will I ever hear you play?”

She smiled. “In your dreams.”

“But you’re already there,” he said, grinning. “Playing the violin.”

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes at him. “God, I hope not.”

But she really did. And she couldn’t help but smile a little too wide as she walked off, hearing Harry laugh behind her.

Edward never took long to pick up his phone, that was just a fact of life. Whenever someone called him, they could expect him to answer within the first three rings. He loved talking, loved being around people and having everyone’s eyes on him, which was so different to Y/N’s character who hated beyond anything to have people pay attention to her. She rarely answered her phone unless it was someone she knew very well, and the only person she ever really called was Eddie. She was laid in her bed now, having changed into lounge wear, and snuggled under a blanket, phone in hand. Edward answered the FaceTime call rather quickly, beaming at his phone when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Goose!”

“Hi, Maverick, you alright?”

“Mum’s making tikka masala for dinner, I’m splendid.” Edward said, putting his phone on his lap as he rolled himself away from the kitchen and into the living room where he wouldn’t be disturbed by all the noises their mum were creating making dinner. “How was the seminar?”

“Medium. We got to rehearse for the exam, but I suck at my Caprice so far.”

“Doubt that. Why would you say you suck?”

“Because I pissed it, Eddie. I always mess it up when I play it.” Y/N looked away from the phone, feeling ashamed to admit that she was having trouble, but at the same time relieved to put words to it and tell someone. Besides, Edward always listened, knowing her better than she knew herself and he always found the right words to say to calm her down.

Edward gave the phone a smile a she picked it back up again. “When’s the exam?”

“December 9th.”

“Then you got plenty of time, Y/N. Don’t fret too much, you’ll find a way to play it flawlessly and your lecturer will be blown away, I promise.”

Y/N smiled, nodding at her brother. “How was the doctor?”

When Y/N lived at home, she would accompany Edward to a hospital in Oxford where he went once a month to check up on his back. Because of his serious condition of spina bifida, the doctors wanted to check on his spine every month to make sure he didn’t have any infections because if he did, then everything would turn bad very quick. An infection in his spine would be fatal and so dangerous that he would have to live at the hospital until said infection was gone. He could die if he had an infection. And so, Y/N had always come with him because if her brother was going to be told he had an infection in his spine, then she wanted to be there to ask the doctors all kinds of questions about further treatment and so forth. But she hadn’t come with him in October, and neither had she in November, though she was really hoping she could tag along when she went home for Christmas in a month.

“Okay.” Eddie answered, shrugging. “Not as fun as when you come with, though.”

“Obviously.”

Edward giggled.

“Did you wear the necklace?”

Edward nodded, showing Y/N the silver necklace around his neck. When he was 10 and Y/N 12, the two had gone to the monthly check up, their dad tagging along, of course. And ever since Y/N could remember, this one woman had helped Edward out and been his doctor. Her name had been Claudia Parr, a blonde woman with the warmest smile Y/N had ever seen and a way with Edward that was incredible. Treating him like porcelain and with respect, Claudia had always made Edward and Y/N’s trips to Oxford amazing. But there had been this one time when Edward’s back had hurt him more than usual, and he had been so terrified of having an infection that his 10-year-old self started crying on the check-up table. Claudia had unhooked that necklace from around her neck and given it to Edward, told him that it had always brought her luck and now it would do the same for him. He didn’t have an infection. Edward got to keep it, and whenever he saw her after he offered to give it back, but Claudia told him to hold onto it just in case. And some months later Edward got a new doctor for some weird reason that neither him nor Y/N ever got a valid explanation for. After a year, their father told them Claudia had moved to Scotland, and thought both had been devastated, she had left her source of luck behind for Edward to keep, and for that they were forever grateful.

“Yea.” Edward said. “I wore it. Of course I did.”

“Good.” Y/N sighed, sinking into her mountain of pillows. “Now, tell me what the house smells like. I need to remember mum’s tikka.”

Friday, 14 November 2014

Y/N looked at herself in her dodgy mirror for what must have been the 99th time. She wasn’t wearing anything special, just some checked trousers and her navy puffer Y/Net, some make-up on her face and nothing particular done to her hair. Harry had told her not to be a second too late in that one text message he had sent her an hour ago, and now it was 3pm and she was all ready to go to Costa. Two hours before they were actually supposed to meet him. God, she groaned at herself, she was being so unbelievably pathetic. They were just going to chill at Costa like two normal friends usually did. There was nothing special about it. No need to freak out. But in the nature of who she was as a person, Y/N was freaking out. Big time.

She sat down by her desk, urging herself to not see too much into all of this as she would only be let down. And though she was telling herself that, she knew she would look too much into all of this and probably have her heart slightly broken when she found out he only wanted to be friends. She wasn’t even sure she knew what she was feeling for him yet, everything about Harry confused her. About to take her puffer Y/Net off and bring her laptop out and find something to do on there, a knock sounded from Y/N’s door. Opening it, Tiana stood on the other side, wide eyed and hands folded before her.

“I need you to come with me.”

Y/N stared at her for a bit. “Come… with you? Where?”

“To the doctor, I booked an appointment yesterday for today at 5pm.”

“The doctor?” Y/N took a step toward Tiana, panic prickling her fingertips. “What- W-Why? What’s going on?”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open, eyes blinking as she let the shock of it all sink in. “You…” She couldn’t say it, because where she was from, in tiny Hawkley, no one got pregnant until they were at least 30, married and financially stable. This whole situation was so weird to her that Y/N felt a little faint. “Is… is the doctor even open that late on a Friday?”

“This one is.” Tiana said, walking toward her room to get ready to leave. “Can we go there now? I cannot be inside this flat anymore.”

And so they went. Tiana’s arm linked with Y/N’s and silence wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket. Time went by fast and very slow at the same time. The waiting room was too bright, hurting Y/N’s eyes a little, and she tried not to let her eyes wander too much. Tiana was breathing very fast beside her, holding onto Y/N for dear life, and Y/N let her, not really knowing what else she could do for her flatmate besides be there for her. Not really knowing how to manage a situation like this one without handling it the wrong way, making Tiana cry, or just making everyone in the waiting room hate her.

After a long while, Y/N asked Tiana who she thought the father was, to which Tiana huffed very loudly and told her that of course it was Danny’s. And no, she had not told him she was at the doctor’s to check of her two pregnancy tests were indeed telling the truth. Tiana sighed heavily, looking at Y/N.

“Do you think this is stupid? Am I overreacting?”

Y/N could sense it in her voice that she was genuinely scared either were true, that Y/N thought she was these things. So, Y/N shook her head, which was an honest answer.

“You’re not.” Y/N assured her. “You’re scared which is very understandable in a situation like this one. You don’t know what’s going on.”

“Very true.” Tiana agreed. “Maybe a little too true. I have no idea what’s going on, what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, if this is even the right decision, why I haven’t told Danny yet, what if I am pregnant-“

“-Ti.” Y/N took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “Tiana, it’s going to be fine, yea? You’re going to be fine.”

Tiana inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Tears started forming in her eyes, and cocking her head at Y/N, her bottom lip started wobbling. “What am I going to do if I’m pregnant, Y/N? I haven’t even finished my first semester at uni yet, and I’m bloody up the duff.”

“Don’t think about any of that now, okay? Let’s hear what the doctor has to say first, and then you can think about what to do. There is no reason planning a future that might never happen, especially now.” Y/N squeezed Tiana’s hand again. “Especially that one.”

Tiana nodded, knowing full well that her friend was right. “Yea. I need to calm down.”

“Basically.”

“But it’s so hard.”

“Think about something else.” Y/N suggested. “How uni is going. You said it yourself a week ago that you were really enjoying it.”

Tiana started talking about uni, and Y/N knew once she got her chatting, she would not stop. So, nodding every once in a while, and asking follow-up questions, Y/N kept Tiana entertained for at least an hour. Her mind drifted off as Tiana talked as it usually did because she could only focus in on a conversation for so long. There was something so incredibly comforting about being the first person Tiana went to about this problem. She had much more in common with Becky, had hung out more with her over the last few months and Y/N knew she had made loads of course mates, but she had still come knocking on Y/N’s door. Still asked Y/N to come with her. And here they were, holding hands, Y/N comforting her like she knew Tiana would comfort her if there ever was something. For some reason, both girls had a bit of an understanding that they were better friends than their different personalities might tell them. And Y/N felt very special, despite the circumstances, because Tiana wanted her here. As all of this rushed through Y/N’s mind, she gave Tiana’s hand a little squeeze, and her friend returned it with a smile, talking about something Y/N didn’t really know the context of.

The doctor called Tiana in after a little while and the two walked in together, Y/N following Tiana. Y/N zoned out for most of it, knowing that despite Tiana being her friend, this was not her place and she wasn’t about to disrespect her in any way. Tiana walked to the bathroom to do the urine test, coming back a few minutes later and handing the small cylinder to the doctor. As the doctor started talking, Y/N felt her phone vibrate. Getting it out of her pocket, she saw a name she had completely forgotten about in the midst of all of this.

Harry You far away, Miss Winning-at-life?

Oh God. Y/N swallowed thickly, looking up at Tiana as she started talking to the doctor. They were talking about the test results and how they showed Tiana wasn’t pregnant after all. The doctor started asking all kinds of follow-up questions about what made her believe she was pregnant and if she had been having unprotected sex. Y/N’s phone vibrated again.

Harry Y/N?

She couldn’t just storm out, couldn’t tell Tiana she had to leave because whether her friend was pregnant or not, Tiana needed her here. And she might need her later. If it was one thing Y/N was not, then it was disloyal to her friends. Even when she had made plans with Harry a week prior. Tiana needed her, and she wasn’t going to leave her side tonight. So, sighing heavily Y/N started typing out a message to Harry.

Y/N Find myself in a bit of an emergency kind of situation. Another time?

Tiana was thanking the doctor, shaking her hand before taking her coat back on. The appointment was clearly over, Tiana ready to get out of here and back to the flat.

Harry What’s up? You good?

Y/N Yea, something just came up. I’m sorry.

“Jesus fuck.” Tiana groaned as they walked out into the cold London air, buttoning her coat. “I could fly off to heaven now, I’m so relieved.”

Harry But you are good? You’re okay?

“I kind of blocked everything out because it’s your business now mine-“

“-Rubbish, my business is your business, Y/N.” Tiana smiled. “Can we order Domino’s and watch Friends, please? I feel like chilling.”

Y/N smiled, nodding her head. It sounded like a perfect Friday night. Tiana squealed and clapped her hands, groaning once again in relief.

Y/N I’m okay.

“Who are you texting? Saw you on your phone the whole time.” Tiana asked, no accusation in her voice, just curiosity.

“Mum.” Y/N said, watching her breath turn white as it left her mouth.

“Better have had something bloody interesting to say.” Tiana grinned, winking at Y/N who only giggled. “Chuffed to devour a large Domino’s pizza and cookies now. It’s what I deserve.”

While Tiana clicked on the button for the green man to show and them to be able to cross the busy road, Y/N’s phone vibrated for the last time that night.

Harry Then that’s all that matters.

TAGLIST

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry #styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines #het fic #harry styles one shots #PLS DO COME TALK TO ME :DDDDDDD

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deathbyignis · 7 years ago

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Drautos x Reader pt 2

“Before I left the Citadel today, I told Cor about us and asked him to take you into the Crownsguard”.

“Huh”? You asked, furrowing your brow.

“Clarus will never allow you to continue in the Kingsglaive when he hears about us”.

Your hands move immediately from the small of his back to his pecs, pushing like hell to get this boulder off of you. He sighs deeply and complies, begrudgingly releasing you. You feel tears forming in your eyes as a scoff escapes your mouth. You immediately shoot yourself upright and turn your head back to give him a death stare over your shoulder. “WHAT”!

“You seemed ok with it 20 minutes ago”, he says to the ceiling.

You sit next to him for a minute in stunned silence.

“Ok with what, Titus” you ask, your tone quiet and shaky. “With you not talking to me about it before you went and spilled your guts to Cor”? “Ok with you making decisions for me that affect MY life”? “Or is it that you thought I would be ok with babysitting a narcoleptic brat”?

“Baby, c'mon” he pleads, right hand shading his eyes as if the sunlight at midday just burned them.

You stand to face him, “No ‘baby’ this time, this is fucked up Titus”! “Why would you do this”?

“I thought I just told you why” he says under his breath, his voice beginning to crack.

“Oh great, so is this why you said it, to soften the blow”? you say with a shaky voice as you make your way to the dresser in the corner and pull out a tshirt and jeans.

“No. I said it because I mean it” his tears running freely.

You never were much of a yeller, even in the most warranted of circumstances, but this is just BEYOND. You actually are lost for words. “I am so angry with you right now”, the tone you use lets him know that you are actually more hurt than angry. You put on your jeans and steal a glance at him to see that he still has his eyes shaded and he hasn’t moved.

You then throw on your shirt, zip up your boots, throw your hair in a ponytail, and announce “I’m taking Titan for a walk”. “We’ll be back in about an hour, be ready to explain yourself”. You can hear his chest struggle to inhale deeply as you leave him there on the bed.

You stop at the door to grab Titan and a jacket, but you meltdown. NEVER has Titus EVER tried to control you or your path before. Sure, he had control over you in the Kingsglaive, and you pushed his limits more than once - mostly thanks to Nyx dragging you off during battle to slay some never-before-seen monstrosity - but that was different. It was work, and you reported directly to him. He was responsible for all of you, and if he gave you a punishment, you Gods damn well deserved it. Never has he mixed work with home, it had to be that way and you both liked it that way.

The neighborhood you live in is quiet…not too far from the Citadel, not so close that you could run into someone FROM the Citadel. A nice neighborhood, but not without its problems. Titus bought the condo you share ten years ago when he was commissioned to Captain. You tease him about the location often, saying that he needed a quiet place to take his honeys back in the day. There is a park nearby, so you walk the short distance and flop yourself on a bench.

Looking down at Titan, you exhale deeply, and begin to sob uncontrollably. You knew everything Titus said was true. You both were sick of hiding, the statement about Clarus not having it, that he loved you, and you knew if the two of you were to trust anyone with your secret, Cor would be the ONLY name on the list.

Not to say that Clarus was a prude or judgmental man, but he was a fair man. He would never stand for a Captain fucking one of his subordinates, even if it was love, lest favoritism come into play. You had met him on several official occasions, and found him to be quite charming.

Cor was amazing. He was gentle, sweet, and honest. You are sure that Cor gave Titus the treatment, and laid it on pretty thick, before giving him a hug.

You take a deep breath and release Titan, who has been patiently tugging on his leash for at least 20 minutes while you sort through your thoughts. The little shit bolts across the park to challenge a pit-bull four times his size. “Titan” you scream, and run after him, sure in your mind that he will be reduced to pâté by the time you reach him. “Down, NOW” you hear a deep voice come from your left. The miniature horse immediately lays down and butts Titan to the side with his snout as he arrives for his ass-kicking.

You feel relief, but keep moving. Titan is now in this dogs face barking like a little bitch. “Titan” you yell again as you scoop him up into your arms. You can hear laughter off to your side, so you turn to see what is so funny about your dog’s near-death experience. “Kid’s got balls”, the dark figure says. It was past twilight and the lights hadn’t come up yet, so it was difficult to make out anything besides his immense figure.

When he stepped closer, your breath hitched and you felt sick. SHIT! Gladi-fucking-olus. You’ve lived here for almost two years now, and never once had you ran into a single soul from the Citadel. Curse the Six.

“Yeah, he takes after his daddy” you half-heartily laugh, while looking straight down to count some rocks. “Thanks for calming your dog, I was afraid he would eat Titan in one swift bite” you mumble to the dirt. There is an awkward silence, and you can feel Gladiolus staring you down. “Do I know you”? He questions. “No, don’t think so” you answer…74,75,76….Pelna may be the smartest man you know…

“I’m pretty sure I know you. Where do you work”?

Truth is, you do know him. Intimately. Six months after your recruitment into the Kingsglaive there was a joint party that included the Crownsguard to celebrate when your class cleared Level 8 training. People got drunk, people fucked in the dorm. All you remember is who it was, and how much it fucking hurt the next day.

You raised your gaze to meet his, and with an innocent smile you said softly, “I think I would remember someone like you”, which garnered a grin and a flick of his pecks.

Show off.

“Anyway, thanks again, I’ve got to get this daemon back home”. SHIT! Only people from the armed forces called them daemons… civilians called them monsters. You attach Titan’s leash to his collar, but keep him in your arms, and turn to walk away. You walk briskly, fearing he may want to continue his investigation of your initial meeting. The hairs on the back of your neck tell you that Gladiolus’ eyes are on you until you turn a corner a block from your home.

You entered stealthily, knowing that you had been wrong to go off on him like that. Truth be told, the two of you had discussed the dream of exposing yourselves and what would happen to both of you. Titus told you that he would be asked to leave, or you would. The two of you knew that meant YOU would be the one extricated. His actions today were an attempt to secure you a job in the Citadel, which was sweet, but if this got out it would actually separate you from him when you most wanted to be by his side. The thought of him going to war without you nearby brought new tears to the surface, and you sat at the kitchen table with your head in your hands trying to organize your thoughts before going upstairs.

One thing you definitely did not discuss was the timing. Today was most certainly not the day chosen by the both of you. Titus’ confessional with Cor today caught you off guard, and that is what really pissed you off, no matter how much you trusted the man. The Glaives and CG had the next two days off to recover from today’s hellish training day, but you all had received an invitation from King Regis himself to join him for dinner in the Citadel tomorrow evening. An invitation from the King was not a request, it was an order. You wondered how Cor would react when he saw you. Your stomach dropped, and you wiped your eyes once more.

“I’m sorry” came a small whisper from over your shoulder. Apparently, Titan had alerted him that you were home safe. Startled, you looked up at him, eyes soaked and bloodshot. He too, looked like he had been crying during the time you were gone, and he falls into the chair next to you. Not wanting to feel your wrath, he stares blindly at the table, while stroking it with his left hand.

“Why” comes your plea. “Why would you do this without talking to me first”? He continues to stare at the table. “How am I going to face Cor tomorrow night, when I know that he knows”? A low chuckle comes from his mouth that enrages you. “You think this is funny, you’re fucking with my life here” you growl. “No baby I don’t think this is funny” he says, trying to subdue his laughter. “What the fuck is wrong with you”? The tears are falling again, so you jump up and turn to walk away, but he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap. You struggle with him, but let’s be honest, you have no chance of getting away. When Titus decided he wanted you somewhere, that is exactly where you were going.

He has one arm firmly restraining your waist, the other hand holding the back of your head firmly forcing you to face him. “I love you, please baby, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, and I just can’t take it anymore”, his voice trailing off as he buries his head into your chest and becomes a mess beneath you. You are repelled by the display at first, but realize that you had never seen him like this. Titus was the type of guy to hide his emotions behind closed doors, you cannot recall a single instance of him melting down like this and your heart sinks. You place your hands gently on his head intertwining your fingers into his hair and kiss him on his crown. “I love you” you whisper. “We’ll figure this out”.

You lift your body slowly and turn yourself to straddle him on the protesting chair. Cupping his face in your hands, you give him a long, languid kiss. He responds immediately and grabs the back of your head, inserting his tongue deeply into your mouth, exploring every contour. You pull away, and he chases your lips. “No more unexpected confessionals” you whisper, looking him dead in the eyes. He nods his head and invades your mouth yet again.

You feel his rough hands on your abdomen, playing with the hem of your shirt and you instinctively raise your arms to accommodate his silent request. He lifts your shirt with timid hands over your head and his mouth descends upon your sensitive mounds. Your breath hitches as you grab the back of his head pulling him in closer. He teases your nipples relentlessly with his tongue, spinning quick circles, followed by soft nibbles between his teeth.

Titus wraps his strong arms tightly around your body and lifts you up to sit on the table, positioning himself between your legs. He unzips and removes one boot, then the other. Cursing your tight jeans, he removes them with intense urgency, as if you may change your mind at any second. He can still smell himself on you from earlier in the evening, and he holds your thighs wide open to give himself full access to descend upon your pussy with his hungry mouth.

His fingers spread your soaked folds so his tongue can skillfully hit you in all the places only he knows about. His sweet lips pulling you into his mouth, creating a vacuum around your clit. You lock your fingers into his hair, as your hips gyrate in time with the movements of his skilled mouth. “Are you still mine” he asks, keeping time with your hips. “Always” you get out between ragged breaths. The admission spurs him on and he inserts two fingers into your wet entrance. “Shit” you whisper, arching your back off the table and earning a smile from him. He pulls them out, shoves them back in, twists and turns, increasing speed and force, as your body convulses below him. As soon as he begins to feel you clinch around him, he withdraws. “Uhhhh, nooooo”, you whine and he glances up to your beautiful red face, licking his fingers of your juices. You look down to him with a pouty face. “Maneuvers like that will not get you back into my good graces, Captain” you pant at him.

He stands and positions his body above you with his arms wrapped around your legs, and leans down to give you a kiss. You grab his face and pull him to you, his delicious lips tasting of your combined orgasm two hours prior. “I want to suck on your cock” you whisper, licking the sensitive area behind his ear. “No need, baby” he says, freeing his hard cock from his sweat pants. The two of you lock eyes when you feel the pressure of him wanting entrance. He moves his hands to the sensitive skin behind your knees, holding you wide open to accept his thick cock. He pulls away from your face, and stares intently into your eyes as he breaks your resistance and pushes his way all the way into your slick cunt, earning a short spasm from your body.

He is gentle and sweet with his movements. Slowly, he completely sheaths himself inside your body then withdraws until just his head remains inside. He continues to slowly fuck you, and you can tiny explosions of your juices escaping, running down your ass. “Your cock feels so good honey” you say as he continues to force every inch into your body, using every thrust to bring you closer to release. “Fuck yeah it does” he retorts with a breathy chuckle. He begins to pick up the pace and raises his foot to rest next to your hip, so to reach even deeper depths inside your tight cunt.

“Please baby” you plead with him as he pounds into you relentlessly, your orgasm approaching quickly. He stops his movement, looks into your eyes and asks, “Please what”? Tears are forming in your eyes from this amazing feeling and you beg him to “Make me cum on your cock”. Without a word, he withdraws completely and picks you up like a rag doll and turns you over. Your full upper body now resting on the dinner table, your abdomen sliding in the juices that leaked from your cunt as he first gained entry.

Titus teases your clit several times with his cock then positions himself at your now dripping wet hole. He waits. “Fuck me baby” you beg him. “How do you want to be fucked, sweetheart”? “I want you to fuck me like this is the last piece of pussy you will ever get”. “Shit, babe” he says through a smile. He grabs both of your shoulders and shoves his cock into you so hard and deep, you are certain your eyes would have bulged out of your head had they been open.

His strokes become hard, and deep. He pounds into you at a punishing pace, bodies slapping together at a rapid rhythm. Titus releases your shoulders and grabs your right leg and lifts it to get maximum access. You moan loudly as the cool air hits your swollen clit. With his free hand he grabs your hair at your scalp and strengthens his grip on your thigh. Using both points for leverage, he pulls your whole body closer to him. Arching your back, you feel your orgasm creeping into your abdomen. “Baby I’m cumming” you announce. “Fuck yeah…cum on that dick” he commands. As you chase your release, you can hear his breathing become heavier, as his strokes become more and more erratic. You cum in a rush of endorphins and your pussy grabs at his cock, not willing to relinquish this feeling of euphoria that it gives you. He continues to pound you through your bliss, letting go of your leg only as he announces that he too, was going over that cliff. You feel his hot cum spill into you as he lowers his chest to meet your back and his sweaty body convulses on top of you.

You smile at the feeling of his cock pulsating inside of you. You turn as much as the weight of his torso allows, push him off of you, turn around and tell him to sit. Breathing heavily, he complies, as you drop to your knees. You grab his still rock-hard cock by the base and take him fully into your mouth. Your eyes meet his and your mouth descends once again onto his mushroom head, sucking the remaining nectar from his body. “Fuck” he moans, brushing the hair from your face and holding it back. You eagerly take each of his balls into your mouth sucking each gently in quick intervals while listening to his praise. “Gods, baby, your so good at that”.

He watches you work for several minutes before his leg begins to tremble under your chest. “Fuck me with that pretty mouth” he orders, tightening his grip on your hair. Lifting your head, you give him a smile, and engulf his enormous cock fully. The suction you skillfully apply to the tip, alternating with the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat make him completely lose control under you. His grip becomes so strong in your hair that it almost hurts and he begins to thrust upward as your saliva spills down his full length. “Oh, fuck, I can’t” he yells as he releases his third load of the night straight into your mouth, his body in full spasms. You always did love the taste of him, so you lick him clean and look up to see his face. “Thank you” he says hoarsely, giving you a grin. “You’re always welcome” you smile back and insert his cock fully into your mouth one more time, pulling away with a sinful 'pop’.

“Shower, dinner, then bed” he asks.

“Sounds like a good strategy” you say.

You stand in front of him and he lifts you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs once more.

#titus drautos #kingsglaive #rough #gladiolus amicitia

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brunchbeforebocce · 8 years ago

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Smug. Aloof. Imperious.

(Written by Dave Hoos & Max Nantes)

Mrs.Hoos: “Darling, I don’t feel like going for lunch today. Why don’t you go now?”

[Hoos spins his head towards the clock on the kitchen wall]

Hoos: “It’s only 11…you know what this means? It’s…

[Mrs.Hoos shrugs her shoulders with a puzzled expression]

…come on, come on.”

Mrs.Hoos: “Oh my, God, it’s Sunday br…”

Hoos: “Yes! Well played Darling. Sunday brunch…although…who shall join me? Nantes would normally, of course, but today he promised to take Ursula, that’s the estranged wife of his former neighbour, Oslo, for a private viewing of the Lemon Tart Appreciation Society’s exhibition of 19th century shoelaces. In particular, those used by Confederate soldiers during the civil war. Then, as a special treat, Nantes will perform a selection of specially chosen musical interludes on his Appalachian dulcimer. During that, the delightful Ursula, will delight the small gathering by performing a slow, seductive, strip-tease, that culminates in a demonstration on the correct method of employing a two-headed vibrator that plays “Also Sprath Zarathustra”.“

Mrs.Hoos: “How wonderful. I didn’t know he played?”

Hoos: “Didn’t you? He considers it a lost art. I’m inclined to agree. We often play for the chaps at the golf club, Nantes and I, if someone needs a bit of cheering up. Nantes, with his Appalachian dulcimer, and me with my mellotron. It’s wonderful after a bottle or so each of brunch riesling. Although some of the less fortunate among us are doing it…particularly tough, this time of year. Why Mortimer even had to let his…[visibly close to tears]…let his assistant groundskeeper go, and even…the French stable-maid.”

Mrs.Hoos: “Darling, why don’t you wear this [hands him a lovely blue, silk, short sleeved shirt]…I’ve just ironed it this morning?”

Hoos: “No!! [snatches the shirt and hurles it over the small waste paper basket on the little table next to the kitchen bench, knocking over a bottle of linseed oil]. I can’t wear that. Look at it. How on earth can I unbutton my sleeves while keeping them from being not rolled up if I’m wearing a short sleeved shirt?”

Mrs.Hoos: “Oh my goodness! I’m so sor…”

Hoos: “Shirts with short sleeves are for lunch. And should be worn by an ordinary man called Colin. You can’t expect me to wear that shirt Darling…it’s so half past three at the betting shop!”

——————–

[Hoos’ phone begins to ring]

Hoos: “Hello, this is Hoos, please speak clearly and with a vocabulary that is above standard level”.

Nantes: “Hoos, it’s Nantes…sorry to ring I know you were planning a jaunt to the Warren of the Narre in the South but my brunch senses are tingling and I was wondering if I could persuade you to change your plans and meet me for Sunday brunch”.

Hoos: “Nantes, but aren’t you taking…”

Nantes: “Yes Hoos, I was going to take Ursula for a private viewing of the Lemon Tart Appreciation Society’s exhibition of 19th century shoelaces, which I was most looking forward to attending. But an unforgettable and unforgivable event took place this morning”.

Hoos: “Please, do tell Nantes. My monogrammed silk phone cover is comfortable in my hand while I am reposed in my Chesterfield armchair”.

Nantes: “Fine, very well. It all happened this morning. There I was practising my Appalachian dulcimer in front of the mirror to make sure my smug and condescending smirk was in place, which it was and I was ready to go. I unbuttoned my sleeves on my new brunch shirt (it’s divine Hoos, I can’t wait for you to see it) and gave one last smug look to mirror when I noticed shockingly that I had one day of facial hair growth, as opposed to the customary four hour growth of facial hair you should have for brunch. But the worst part was I’d left all of my hair care products in my overnight bag which was left at Sven and Charlotte’s city penthouse where I stayed last night, I just couldn’t muster the strength of heading back to the leafy eastern suburbs after the three of us went to the Performing Arts Theatre to see the Gregorian Chants performance last night. You really should have come Hoos, I know you had to delegate the evening to ironing your pocket ties but it really was marvellous. Anyway…after seeing my face I rang Ursula to ask her to quickly go and buy some facial hair care products and bring them to me, there was no way I was going out with a day old growth in my brunch attire.”

Hoos: “Of course not, please go on.”

Nantes: “That’s when the nightmare began. After a short time Ursula knocks on my solid oak hand carved front door as I briskly go to meet her….Horror! (Clearly distressed voice) she had brought me a Gillete disposable razor and a can of shaving foam.”

Hoos: “(Audible gasping)”.

Nantes: “After wrapping it in a bag and throwing the items in the bin followed by washing hands, I put my stern face on and turned to her, she didn’t see the problem…Didn’t see the problem! I was looking for her guide dog. I asked why she hadn’t had brought me a single German steel blade razor that was sharpened in Switzerland by artisan blade-smiths attached to a Grenadilla wood handle, I mean where was the badger bristle soap brush on an ivory holder or the lime and coconut block of shaving soap in a teak wooden box…not forgetting the Creed-Aventus aftershave.”

Hoos: “I’m starting to sweat and shake, what did you do?”.

Nantes: “Well I was about to give up when Ursula told me to come on and get in her car, she will take me to the barber for a real shave. I looked bemused and informed her that Johaan’s grooming shop was closed every Sunday for Sunday brunch. Then she told me she knew another place and it’s basically on the way, I was nervous but I threw my arms up in the air exposing my wrists where the buttons were undone and got in the car. After a nervous trip where I mostly just admired my hickory brown loafers with tassels, we arrived, I couldn’t believe it….(painful voice) she had taken me to JustCuts where the window proclaimed a haircut and shave Sunday deal for $25. Apparently, I then passed out. The next thing I know, she was helping me get out of the car and inside my abode. And that sadly Hoos was the end of the friendship.”

Hoos: “Oh my, I don’t blame you. You were right it’s a nightmare of a story. But please brunch must go ahead and I shall come and pick you up immediately and take you to Octavia’s barber, he’s open for Sundays. Then where to go for brunch?”.

Nantes: “I don’t mind, anywhere to clear my head of the horrors I’ve witnessed today”.

————————————————————–

Nantes: “Do you still have a play around on your baritone dulcimer? I’m thinking about doing a little duet performance for the Borrowby Garden Party Brunch Sessions this Sunday?”

Hoos: “Well, if there’s no room to put my mellotron, I was thinking of bringing my carved top mandolin just in case. I think it would complement your appalachian dulcimer wonderfully. I of course, will have my baritone dulcimer standing my as well. There’s also a five string banjo that often comes in very handy, in case one of the diners gets hurt over a remark made about the cut of his suit.

I was thinking of borrowing Herbert’s accordion, but I don’t think it’s the right place.”

Nantes: “Herbert does love that accordion so, he would be devasted if some brunch riesling or pâté happened to smear it. I say go with the carved top mandolin, it will go together with my Appalchian dulcimer like ebony and ivory, like the sun and the moon, like frozen grapes and wine…ahh perfection.

I must ask, what happened to the silk short sleeved shirt that was hurled into the waste paper basket?”

Hoos: “Well, as you no doubt recall, in my thoroughly merited state of…shall we say, abject horror at being given such an inappropriate piece of cloth, my aim was a touch askew. My tossing hand proved more powerful than I gave it credit. For with a subtle flick of the wrist (who knew all that wrist and palm work would have proved so fruitful), it was summarily dispatched, well over the intended table top basket, and instead came crashing down on my favoured bottle of linseed oil, made by Állback of Sweden, of course. The bottle was, as distressing as it sounds, unopened…

I knew that time was of the essence. This magnificent, golden nectar was too good to leave dripping, like the sweat from an out of condition Welsh baroness (we’ll show her what that bridle and riding crop are really for…THWAAAACKKKK!!!), onto the breakfast room (soon to be renamed) floor, which, is at least wooden, so there’s a stroke of luck.

The magnificent golden nectar (unlike the turgid, orange hue of most common domestic brands), was about to be poured into my antique, but sturdy, 18th century French chamber pot. Then, under my meticulous supervision, Grayson - my batman - will instruct one of his underlings…Emmanuelle, I expect, to gently lower my collection of wooden spoons, salad tossers, door knobs, etc, into the bowl - two at a time - for the purpose of treating the items in question. We’ve all had to endure a late supper with untreated wooden spoons…ughh…it’s bordering on shameful. My man, Grayson, he knows his linseed oil. The last time my wood was treated by Emmanuelle’s oil soaked fingers, I couldn’t contain myself. “Lick it…”, I exclaimed, perhaps a tad too forcefully, “…tell me what it tastes like!”, as I pushed the large, rather cumbersome, piece of wood into her mouth. After what seemed like minutes of, I have to say, a rather exaggerated performance of gasping, panting, and even flailing her arms about the place, I removed the treated item. I submerged it once more, into it’s, almost serene, linseed bath. I removed it…glanced furtively at Grayson (who temporarily stopped dragging the unconscious Emmanuelle across the floor towards the staff infirmary), as he nervously wiped his brow, after first patting mine dry with a strip of cotton, which per chance just happened to be close at hand, in the guise of Emmanuelle’s blouse. I moved the wooden spoon ever closer. Then, I paused…with the spoon a mere four and three quarter inches from my nose, I felt it…a mouth watering, nutty aroma, which made me immediately hungry, despite the fact I hadn’t ordered the table set.

Now, the sudden appearance of this silk, short sleeved shirt and it’s devastating aftermath had thrown the household into a state of sheer panic. Luckily, as you well know, my dear Nantes, as we are cut from the same (pure silk) cloth, I have nerves of polished steel. Like a flash, for I knew time was of the essence, I rang the bell. How fortuitous I’d had one installed in the kitchen some five years ago. I spied the discarded silk shirt (short sleeved), laying like a soild, French harlot, next to the slowly expanding puddle of Állback’s wonderful linseed oil. “I can get the short sleeved (silk) shirt to soak up the glorious and appropriately expensive nectar, and then squeeze it back into the bottle”, I announcd triumphantly to myself.

I rang the bell again.

I was getting worried now. I glanced at the pool of spilt oil of linseed and the crumpled shirt (silk, short sleeved) beside it. I wisely took the only feasible course of action. I strode, with singular purpose, over to the wine fridge, selected a bottle appropriate for the heightened senses of the occasion and…poured myself a large glass. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either, let me tell you. For barely a moment after I finished the glass, in came my man Grayson, like a cork from a bottle of Château Lafite. Our eyes met. I motioned towards the ghastly scene on the wooden floor. He, although temporarily taken aback, swept up the hand made, silk (short sleeved) shirt, and began applying it rigorously to the misplaced linseed elixir. And wouldn’t you know it, Nantes, before you could say, ‘Sir Bernard Smythe-Obleston, has a smashing new drinks cabinet’, the deed was done, disaster averted, and our hitherto quite useless, short sleeved (silk) shirt, was the hero of the hour…well, third actually, behind Grayson and myself. Incidentally, I was so impressed by Grayson’s ability to futher delegate tasks to his numerous underlings, I’m thinking of having him come along on our next brunch outing, so he can butle for us both. Good wait staff are so hard to give drinks orders to at the moment.

I must get back to crest back mandolin practice, old chap. I’m afraid, even though musically it’s all rather fine, I appear to be letting the side down when it comes to my facial expression. Hubert, it transpires, was none too pleased and has ordered me to spend an extra twelve minutes a week playing - as you did - in front of the mirror. He simply wrote three words at the top of the page..

SMUG, ALOOF, IMPERIOUS

END

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