#sink my teeth back into trainspotting

[veone]

isotonic

[bettybettycooper]

Black Coffee (Chapter Two)

This chapter is PG-13!! Also I promise I’ll update sooner next time, I’ve had exams :)

Click here to read chapter 1 if you haven’t done that yet.

The morning, as always, comes too soon.  Betty fights back the urge to hit snooze and gets up out of bed in one fluid motion, goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and grabs her already packed cheer bag on her way to the gym.

She gets to practice the same time as Cheryl.  They chat in the change room, mostly about cheerleading but also about Cheryl’s fucked up parents and a girl she met in her chemistry lecture.  (“I swear, Betty, that girl is gay.  You should have seen her hat.  It was BACKWARDS!  Oh and did you hear about Ronnie?  She met the HOTTEST GINGER EVER at the football party.  But I’ll let her tell you about that.”)  

By the time they’ve changed, the rest of the team has arrived, and the change room is full of tired voices and blurry eyes.

Cheer practice always wakes Betty up.  

When Cheryl finally says, “that’s a wrap girls, I’ll see you bright and early Wednesday morning!” Betty makes a beeline for Veronica.

“So, Ronnie,” she says, as they’re heading back to the change room, “heard you, ahh, met someone at the party.”

Veronica’s eyes light up and she grabs Betty enthusiastically by the shoulders.

“I met the hottest ginger on the face of this earth.  He’s on Varsity, and he’s like, an 11/10.  And he is a great kisser.  Seriously.”

“Oooh, do you have a picture?”

“Yeah, he’s been snapchatting me!  I’ll show you – or wait, do you want to grab coffee later this week?  We could invite Cheryl, too.”

“Yeah, absolutely.  I have some free time on Thursday?”

“You’re booking three days ahead now?”

Jughead wakes up while Betty is in her fourth class of the day.  He’s only missed one so far, and he really was planning on going to English, but… His bed is so warm, and the room is so quiet without Archie, and he really, really wants to watch Trainspotting again.  

So that’s what he does.  There’s a blonde girl in the movie, just for one fleeting moment, and she reminds him so much of his barista.  It’s completely coincidental, he tells himself, that this is the point where he realizes his morning erection is still pressing insistently into his thigh.

When the movie’s over, he reaches into his boxers, admitting defeat and letting the shame wash over him, and does not think of anyone or anything in particular while he gets himself off.  No, all he thinks about is sex, about how it would feel if a small wet mouth were wrapped around him instead of his too-familiar hand, about how he would hold back a handful of blonde hair so he could see her face better –

It’s at that point that he comes, feeling dirty and gross and immediately regretting letting himself entertain that image.  Nobody’s ever going to have sex with him, anyway.  It’s been 18 years.  It’ll be at least another 18 more.  Maybe he should just hire a prostitute and get it over with.

No, that’s not what he wants to do.  It’s not really the physical aspect he craves anyway.  It’s more just the connection – he’s never even had a best friend, let alone someone who feels so comfortable and safe around him that they invite him into their body.  God, what a thought.

He should probably go to class now.  He only has one left today, and it’s in 20 minutes, which gives him just enough time to clean up, get dressed, and put on a pot of coffee.  There’s a condom wrapper in the garbage can, and despite all of Archie’s faults and utter lack of a personality, he’s jealous that sex is such an easy thing for him.  Maybe if he’d played football in high school, that could be him now, too.

He sees her once, on Wednesday, when he makes his now-daily stop at The Littlest Bean.  She doesn’t take his order though, she’s stocking cups in the back (his stomach still jolts).

As he collects his coffee and gets ready to leave, they make eye contact.  She smiles (he melts) and then goes back to work.  This shouldn’t make his whole day, but it does.

Betty catches sight of him just as he’s leaving the store.  He’s wearing a grey beanie today, covering most of his mess of black hair.  He catches her looking, and she smiles, embarrassed.  She can’t help it that he’s so goddamn attractive.

In Photojournalism class on Thursday, Betty gets a text.  It’s from Veronica, and it says “meet us at the littlest bean xoxo.”  As if Betty would forget.  The location, though, she hadn’t been consulted about.  She spends more than enough time within the pink walls of The Littlest Bean every week, she doesn’t need to go their on her own time too.  But it sounds like they’re already there, and Betty knows how much Cheryl likes their macchiatos, and well, she does have a staff discount.  

They’re both poring over Veronica’s phone, presumably giggling over the mystery ginger, when Betty enters the shop.  She waves to her coworkers behind the counter and takes a seat at the sturdy white table next to Cheryl.

“Betty! Oh my God.  Look.  He’s basically Justin Timberlake, but ginger.  He’s Justin Gingerlake.”

“You think Justin Timberlake is hot?”

“Yeah?”  Veronica says, then thrusts her phone in Betty’s face.  

“Oh, I – oh wow,” she says.  This ginger boy is much hotter than Justin Timberlake.

“Right?” Cheryl says.  “You should’ve seen Ronnie at the party, she just grabbed that ginger bull by the horns and-”

“What’s his name, V?” Betty asks.

“Oh, his name is really dumb.  It’s Archie.”

“Archie?  As in, short for Archibald?”

“Unfortunately,” Veronica says.  “But his abs make up for it.  You should see them, they’re incredible.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“He’s going to be at the party this weekend too, he said he can’t wait to see me again.”

“Oh girl,” Cheryl says with a grin, “you are so in.”

“Which party?” Betty asks, and is met with shocked looks from Veronica and Cheryl.

“You don’t know about the party?”

“No, I mean, I probably won’t be able to go anyway –“

“You’re going,” Cheryl says.  “We’re going to drag you there if we have to.  You can’t have two weekends off in a row.”

“I didn’t have the weekend off!  I was at a Model UN conference!  I got assassinated, for God’s sake.”

“You need to get laid, Betty,” Veronica says.  “How long has it been?”

“What’s the party for, anyway?”

“How long, Betty?”

“I’ve been to enough football parties to know that none of the varsity players are interested in me. I’ll come, MAYBE, but I’m NOT looking to get laid.”

“It’s not an official football party.  Lots of other people will be there. HOW.  LONG.”

Betty takes a deep breath.  Veronica and Cheryl are laughing.

“There was the one guy, in frosh week…”

“That was two months ago!” Veronica’s mouth almost hits the table.

“You are coming to the party, and we are going to get you laid,” Cheryl says. 

 “In fact, if everything goes according to plan, all of us are going to get laid.”

Betty jumps in, desperate to change the subject.

“Ooh, Cheryl, anyone in particular?”

Cheryl blushes beside Betty, and tries in vain to suppress a grin.  “The girl from chem class.  I got her number, and her name, and I invited her to the party.  We’re gonna hookup.  Or date.  Either or.”

Betty gives her an enthusiastic high five.  Cheryl, a serial monogamist, has had trouble finding gay girls who want to commit to anything more than a casual fuck.  Most of them, Betty suspects, are just straight girls looking to experiment.  Ah, college.

“So will you come?” Veronica asks, leaning forward over the table towards Betty.  “It’s not really a question, but you should say yes anyway.”

“I’ll come, I’ll come.” Betty says  “But next weekend is for studying.”

“Deal,” Veronica says.  

“We can get ready in my room,” Cheryl says.

Ten minutes after the girls leave for class, Jughead, diverted once again from Coffee Planet by the sign on the door, walks through the spotless glass doors of The Littlest Bean and orders a coffee.  

He’s more disappointed that his barista isn’t behind the counter than he’s willing to admit.  The coffee, though, is as god as ever.  

He sits for a minute to check his phone before he walks home, in a comfy metal seat that’s still warm.  He will never know that just a couple minutes earlier, the girl he can’t stop thinking about was sitting, talking about sex, even, in the exact same spot.

Archie is taking pictures of himself shirtless when Jughead gets back to the room.

“New girl?” 

“Yeah, but this one I really actually like.”  He’s flexing in their half-length mirror, hair wet from the shower.

“What are the other girls then, sex toys?”

“It goes both ways, Jug.  It’s not taking advantage if you’re on the same page.”

Archie is right, and maybe Jughead’s just jealous, but he almost wants to rip into him for being such a player.

“True.  Another volleyball girl?”

“Nah, cheerleader.  I met her at the football party last weekend.”

“Cool, cool.”

“There’s another party this weekend, a bit more casual, wanna come?” Archie asks.  This isn’t the first time Archie’s invited Jughead to a party, but it still feels nice.  

“Yeah, actually.”  Jughead says.  “Thanks man.”

Archie really isn’t too bad, he’s just the lovable dumb sidekick in the depressing movie that is Jughead’s life.  He just needs to get rid of all his resentment and jealousy, and then maybe they can be best friends.  Or at least friends.  Friends would be nice.

Cheryl’s room is HUGE.  Her incredibly rich parents had wanted her to room with her twin brother, and upon realizing that coed roommates were Not An Option, bought out double rooms for both of them, for “sleepovers.”  

(Jason had stayed in Cheryl’s room only once, and he had passed out on the other bed while Cheryl wiped the vomit off his face and poured his vodka down the bathroom sink.)

It’s convenient, though, for parties.  Or even just getting ready for parties, like right now.

They do their makeup first.  Cheryl does hers light and natural, while Veronica does not.  Betty’s opening a pink eyeshadow palette when Veronica says “absolutely not,” and snatches it away.

“You’re going full smoky eye tonight.”

Betty rolls her eyes.  There’s no fighting her on this one.

Veronica makes quick work of Betty’s makeup, and Betty has to admit it actually looks pretty good.  She usually never wears eyeliner, mostly because she’s awful at applying it, but Veronica’s given her perfect black wings and a dramatic shimmering eyeshadow.

Hair is next (this is just a house party, no time for anything fancy), then Cheryl hands Betty a black crop top/mini skirt combo that probably costs more than Betty makes in a month.  

“I brought my own clothes, Cheryl.”

“Cool, I don’t care.”

“I’m going to wear these pants, and –“

“You are not wearing pants on my watch.  Girl, show off those beautiful legs.”

Again, there’s no point in fighting.

After a couple quick tequila shots, the girls are off towards the student housing district, buzzed and giggly and excited.  Betty’s not sure where the thought comes from, but she wonders if the hot “black coffee” guy will be there.  Probably not.  He seems way too cool for this kind of party.

He really, really did intend to go.  As Archie leaves for the party, freshly showered and smelling amazing, Jughead almost regrets his decision.  Almost. 

But he only has four beers left and he’s really tired and he probably won’t know anyone there other than Archie anyway.  He can go out with his film friends tomorrow, maybe get one of the older ones to buy him some more beer.  

It will probably be a lot more fun than some football party anyway.

So, comforted with this knowledge and full of exhaustion, Jughead spends a couple minutes doing homework after Archie leaves, then crawls in to bed, knowing he’ll be woken up in a couple hours when Archie comes home.

By tomorrow morning, he’ll know exactly what he missed, and his feelings about skipping the party will be drastically different.

[theampreviews]

T2 Trainspotting

“Nostalgia. That’s why you’re here. You’re a tourist in your own youth”.

That line from Sick Boy (now going full time by his given name, Simon Williamson) neatly distills the experience of this 20-years-later sequel. It’s also spoken in a scene that best encapsulates T2; staged in a setting familiar from the first film, incorporating both verbal and visual callbacks to those two decade old events that still reverberate in the lives of the characters and audience alike. Danny Boyle & Co. are definitely in the nostalgia business, and they are not shying away from it. 

Why T2 doesn’t succumb to the “Member Berry” criticism of peddling pacifying nostalgia is that it uses it as its central conceit, rather than as a crutch to prop itself up on. The whole point of this film is to show how the past permeates the present and the future. How people try to move on, or don’t, or can’t. It’s about getting old and learning to live with, or leave behind, your past. This is a sequel that chooses to dwell in the shadow of its past; it’s not the continuation of an unresolved quest or the further adventures of... T2 Trainspotting sits down with the elephant in the room and asks if it’s OK, and it most certainly isn’t. Some people have criticized the film for being “safe”, whatever that means, as if missing the point of the effects of aging. I may not have been shoving heroin up my arse twenty years ago, but I’m certainly not the same person at 18 as I will be at 38. If T2 Trainspotting is showing it’s age, that is entirely the point. 

Anyone finding it disappointing that this sequel hasn’t repeated the zeitgeist era defining omnipresence of its fore-bearer, it’s because it couldn’t and, more importantly, it wasn’t trying to. Sequels are something of a predictable blot on the Hollywood landscape, but taking a film of such incredible cultural force and asking “where are they now?” is a rarity in Cinema, and Danny Boyle and writer John Hodge strike the perfect tone between the pain of the past and the fears of the future. 

One thing they don’t do is fall into the trap of making the same film “but bigger” - T2 Trainspotting is not re-run of the 1996 film. Danny Boyle tempers his direction. Whereas the first film was a shop-window into Danny the Showman, here he holds back on the quirky visuals, hitting us with occasional flashes of bravado. And if the songs don’t take quite as iconic a role as they did previously, here the sound design comes to the fore; Mark snatching the needle away from a record as the first beat hits him and us with a flood of instant recollection, mixing sound cues form the first film into scenes, it’s an aural masterclass in memory manipulation. (A small aside; speaking to Sound Designer Glen Freemantle, when Renton flicks through his old records, the soundtrack in entirely mute as he passes the Bowie record, not even the ambient sound of the room, the only true silence in the film - a nice touch).

My biggest joy in watching T2 Trainspotting was in seeing those characters and that cast back together again, and boy do they deliver. It’s tough to pick a favourite. McGreggor/Renton does most of the heavy lifting. Despite Mark never being the most interesting character in the bunch, McGreggor imbues him with such charm and self reflection that he elevates his shortcomings, giving one of the best performances of his career, allowing Mark to be seen as the selfish prick he can be, whilst also having you sympathise with the plight of his ongoing attachment to these other idiots. Robert Carlyle gets to play Begbie as an out-and-out villain this time and he mines it for all its worth, hitting both pain and pathos. Better still, Ewan Bremner is afforded chance to show more of Daniel Murphy than Spud, and he’s heartbreaking. Taking a one-note joke character, the “typical junkie”, Bremner’s Spud Murphy becomes the moral heart of the story, the only character with a genuine arc, and Bremner absolutely shines.  However, I was most pleased to see Jonny Lee Miller get to sink his teeth into Simon “Sick Boy” Williamson, providing the most complex and fruitful work of the four - he’s just brilliant.Essentially the biggest arsehole of the group (Begbie is a tyrant, but he lacks Simon’s manipulative treachery), Simon is also the most conflicted and Miller conveys this brilliantly. All of the characters are given room to breathe this time; stepping out from their caricatures, the cast show the miles they’ve walked. (Credit due to newcomer Anjela Nedyalkova also, for making new character Veronika standout in this crowd of old favorites).            

Quite how this film will work for anyone who’s not seen Trainspotting I do not know. This is Grade A Nostalgia. The good stuff, not cheap crap diluted with filler to dupe the masses, it relies on your need for another hit. What’s here may not work as a standalone movie, but that shouldn’t diminish what an achievement this film is. For anyone who lived through the hysteria of that first film twenty years ago and bought into it, T2 Trainspotting is as good as sequels get.