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[silentglassbreak]

Well guys, you let me write your delulu fan fantasies, and it was an absolute blast. I had the best time with it, and hope to open myself to doing that again someday. Thank you all for letting me bring some semblance of your fantasies to life. It means the world to me!

Now…I think it’s only fair that I write mine.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None.

Breathe

The last three days had been a blur. They’d been exciting, exhilarating, and unbelievably fun…but they were so exhausting.

Flying all the way out to Grand Rapids…amid a cyber defect, no less…delayed flight, no one can take cards, two days at a rock music festival…I was beat.

Nicole and I had been planning this trip for months, and it felt like regardless of how many things we did right, we were fighting against some unseen force against us. Everything we tried to do was halted at each turn, and it had become rather annoying.

Despite all of the mishaps, we had persevered, determined to enjoy ourselves against any and all odds. We got to listen to great music, meet some bands, and ate the most disgusting food the festival had to offer.

It was a dream.

By the drive back to the hotel after day two of Upheaval, we were sitting in near-silence, the radio humming low in the vehicle.

"Babes?" I looked over to Nicole. "We need to eat."

I groaned in response, sinking further into my seat. "Sounds dumb. I want to sleep."

She chuckled. "Same, but if we don't eat, we're going to feel like shit tomorrow."

"Ugh," I rolled my eyes toward the pitch darkness outside the window of the rental. "you're right."

She smirked. "As always."

I sucked my teeth. "Can we at least shower first?"

Back at the hotel, we each took our time scrubbing the day off of us, erasing the sweat and makeup left from the weekend. I slipped into my heavy sweats and black crop-top, beads of water still falling from my long, dark hair. Nicole was rubbing moisturizer into her skin, standing in front of the bathroom mirror as I ran my fingers bluntly through my hair.

"I don't want to eat Taco Bell again." Her voice was pleading, and I snickered.

"Same, dude. But what else is open?"

She picked up her phone, opening Google Maps, and scrolling through.

"IHOP?"

I sighed. "It was so bad when we ate there on Thursday..."

She nodded, pursing her lips. "I know, dude. Let me keep looking." Her fingers swiped the screen. "That Denny's looked fucking scary."

I laughed, walking out of the bathroom and grabbed my wallet from my purse, stuffing it in my pocket.

"Oooh!" She stepped into the room, a smile on her face. "There's a TGIFridays open! Only for like, another hour? But if we eat fast, we can make it."

The restaurant was desolate, only one other large SUV in the parking lot. Before opening my door, I slipped my phone from my pocket and checked the screen.

No notifications.

"Have you heard from him?"

I just shook my head, re-locking the phone, and putting it in my pocket. Her look was sympathetic.

"He's an idiot. Don't even worry about it, babe." She put a hand on my arm. "That's a 'tomorrow you' problem."

I nodded, giving her a small smile. "I know. Thanks, Nic."

We walked into the restaurant, eyes glancing around and seeing only one table in the corner filled with no less than five men laughing and eating. Craning my neck around, I searched for the server.

"You think they'll even seat us this late?"

Nicole shrugged, eyes trained on the table with the patrons. "Don't know."

She was distracted, so I stepped forward toward the host stand, looking around toward the bar.

"October..." Her voice was small, just above a whisper.

I didn't look back at her, my empty stomach motivating me to keep checking for the employee. "Hmm?"

A hand gripped my wrist, which made my head snap back to her. "I need you to, discreetly, look over at the table of guys in the corner."

I furrowed my brows, looking her directly in the eyes. "What? Why?"

Her face was stern. "Just do it, but don't be obvious."

Exhaling a breath, I continued searching around the restaurant, letting my eyes fall on the table for only a split second longer than anywhere else.

I counted six men, all black t-shirts and hoodies. Three of them wearing black baseball caps. Half of them were sitting with their backs turned to me, but my eyes caught one of them facing our direction, hands air-drumming feverishly in front of him.

He looked so...familiar?

I stole another glance, and my eyes widened.

"Is that...?"

"Nick Folio." Her voice whispered to me.

I averted my eyes to the floor, hand rising to cover my mouth. "Oh my God."

"If he's here, that means it's them."

I couldn't process that.

Bad Omens was my favorite band. Nearly the entire reason I had flown sixteen hundred miles to a state I had never been. I ground my teeth together, shutting my eyes.

"No fucking way, dude. We just saw them at the festival." I let my eyes look up at her, and she smirked.

"Well, clearly, they're hungry."

"Mkay, well I'll be out in the car if you need me." My legs started for the door, but an arm hooked mine, swinging me back to my spot in front of her.

"Oh, no no no. You're not leaving."

My eyes blew wide at her. "I can't fucking be here while they are! They're my fucking heroes, Nic!"

She nodded. "Uh, fucking same! But when will we ever get an opportunity to be this close again?"

I rolled my eyes. "We're not at a zoo, Nicole. They're just guys."

I didn't even believe the words I was saying.

"Yeah?" She crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow. "Then why leave?"

My face deadpanned, my lip pouting. "Cause I'm going to throw up."

She chuckled at this, eyes darting back to the guys, completely oblivious to our turmoil unfolding fifty feet away.

"We should talk to them."

My heart fell straight to my gut. "I beg your finest pardon?"

She shrugged, considering me. "Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

"Uh, we interrupt their meal and I die of a stroke?"

This time, she rolled her eyes. "If you don't go say hello, I'm going to do it."

My brain short circuited. We couldn't have that. Who knew what Nicole's unhinged mouth would say to them...

"Can't I just eat and go? Pretend I didn't even see them?"

"And you'll never forgive yourself. You can't be this close to Noah Sebastian, and not tell him how much his music means to you."

I chewed on my lower lip.

"C'mon, babe. It'll be fine, and I'll be there with you!"

I steadied myself, wiping my hands on my pants. "Okay. Okay, I will."

I turned, looking directly at the table. The server had finally emerged, a tray full of plates in his hand. I waited as he set them all down, and he finally approached us.

"Sorry about that wait, guys. Just two?"

Nicole nodded, given I was nearly catatonic. The short, blonde man led us to a booth, only two away from the table I was dreading. He handed us menus, and took our drink orders.

"Before or after food?" Nicole asked as she scanned her menu.

"Can't you just do it?" I grimaced. "Without being a weirdo?"

She didn't even bother looking up at me. "Nope. Weird is built into my soul, sorry."

I sighed hard. "Before, then. If I eat, I will vomit all over them."

She folded her menu, and stood from the booth. "Let's go, then."

I closed my eyes, and took her outstretched hand, standing. Taking a quick second to right my hoodie - my Bad Omens hoodie - tied around my waist, I took in a hard breath.

"Alright." I squeaked out.

She led me carefully the few paces over to the table, moving behind me. I walked about four feet from them, likely looking pale as a ghost. I caught Folio's attention first, smiling awkwardly and giving a short wave.

"Hey! Can we help you guys?" His voice was upbeat and sweet as candy. Exactly how I expected.

"Hi." I cleared my throat, taking a careful step forward. My hands kneaded each other, and Nicole held a steady hand on my low back. "I'm s-so sorry to interrupt."

All heads had turned to me, and I didn't have the nerve to look to my left, where I knew Noah was sat.

"No worries!" Folio was smiling widely at me. "Are you guys fans?"

I nodded, looking down at my feet. "We are. We just saw you guys perform tonight, and I wanted to just-" My voice cut off abruptly, a catch in my throat. I swallowed hard. "We wanted to tell you how amazing you all were."

My eyes bounced to the other two men facing me. Nick Ruffilo and Matt Dierkes. They were both grinning.

"Thank you, that means a lot." Nick's voice was tired, but his smile was genuine.

Folio stood from his seat, pushing a hand out to me. "I'm Nick."

I took it with shaky fingers, feeling his grip mine tightly. "Folio, right."

He nodded. "And you are?"

Wow, I forgot my name. Smooth.

It took me a moment, but with a more certain voice, I was able to respond. "October." I let go of his hand to move to the side. "This is Nicole."

He shook her hand as well.

She smiled a toothy grin at him. "We flew from Las Vegas to see you guys."

Folio smiled wider. "Really? Wow! That's so fucking cool!"

Trying not to combust, I dared a glance slightly to the left, seeing Jolly and Bryan, who were both chewing food.

"I would introduce the rest of these guys, but I'm sure you already know who they are." Folio chuckled, and we both nodded.

"Yeah, we're familiar." I added.

"Well, that's great. Now, do you mind?"

The voice came directly from the left of me, where I had been avoiding. The tone made my blood run cold, and I felt all of my muscles tighten.

Finally, I looked over to meet his large, brown eyes. Noah looked anything but appreciative of us coming over to give our praise. In fact, he looked downright annoyed.

I couldn't process what he had said, and I stupidly asked, "Excuse me?"

He narrowed his eyes at me slightly, gesturing to the table. "Look, as much as we all appreciate it," His voice was dripping with disdain. "we're exhausted. We just want to eat so we can get out of here."

My heart had stopped beating. If I had anything in my stomach, it would have erupted out of me right then and there.

Maybe it was the jet-lag, or the fact that when I got home tomorrow, my life was actively in shambles, or maybe it was just being hungry...but I was enraged.

My hands balled into fists instinctively, trying to control my irritation, and I repainted my sweet smile.

"I'm sorry, we'll go. We just wanted to let you guys know you did great tonight. And you all are extremely talented."

He nodded, eyes now looking about as bored as they come.

"Great. Thanks." He snapped, turning his body back toward the table.

"Noah." Folio's voice was stern, and he turned back to me, an apologetic look on his face. "Don't mind him. He's cranky. You guys really aren't bothering us."

I heard the sound before I really registered what it was.

He sucked his teeth.

Oh, I see. He was a fucking child.

Now having lost all sense of nervousness, I could feel Nicole's hand tugging at my arm. "C'mon, babe."

I let myself be turned for a second, but my anger spun me back around, now facing directly toward him, which made him glance up at me like an inconvenience.

"You know," I started, sucking my own teeth in mockery. "you're not at all what I expected?"

He snickered, leaning back in his chair. "No?"

I shook my head slowly. "Nah. I expected someone with as much talent and success as you to be a decent person. Guess I was wrong."

Nicole's near silent gasp behind me was not lost, and I smirked.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, sweetheart." His voice was so nonchalant, it made my blood roar in my ears.

My hands twisted around the knot in my hoodie at my belt line, pulling it loose. I pulled it off with one hand, holding it out in front of me and let it go, leaving it to fall directly in his lap.

"Here." I caught him off guard, him looking up at me with wide eyes. "You probably want this back."

He picked it up, recognizing it was one of theirs. "Why would I want this?"

I smirked, a darkness in my eyes. "Well, you're pretty cold, Noah." I leaned down just to meet his eye level. "Might want something to warm you up before everyone realizes."

I heard a stifled snort come from the table, but I couldn't even begin to tell you who it was. Standing back up, I backed away from the table, and looked back at Folio.

"It was really nice to meet you guys. Have a safe night."

With that, I snatched Nicole's hand, and stalked away from the table, only pausing at the booth to grab my bag, before heading for the doors.

Once outside in the brisk night air, I took three large breaths, rounding the building and leaning down. My hands caught my knees, and Nicole stood in front of me.

"Holy shit!" She was nearly hysterical. "You just told off Noah Sebastian!"

Breathing hard, I fought the tears welling. It was too much all at once.

Was it that significant? No, not really. But after the year I'd been having, I couldn't handle that encounter at all.

"I want to leave. I want to go home."

"I know, babe. I'm sorry that went that way. I can't believe how much of a douche he was."

Shaking my head, I stood back up straight, wiping the moisture from my eyes. "Me either."

"Well," A voice came from behind us, and my eyes blew out, seeing him towering only a few feet away, hoodie in hand. "I don't know if I'd go as far to say douche."

My eyes squinted, jaw clicking. "I would."

He approached us slowly, holding the sweater out to me. "Take this. It's yours."

I held a hand up to him, shaking my head. "No, thanks."

He rolled his eyes. "You paid good money for this. And you made your point. Take it."

I considered him, counting my breaths. He was unmoving, so I reached out, gripping the fabric.

His foot kicked at the sidewalk, hands retreating into his sweater pockets. "Look, I'm sorry." I stood, shocked. "Folio's right. I'm just cranky. I haven't eaten all day, I'm tired. You just caught me on a bad moment."

My lips tightened, and I sighed hard. "So that makes it okay to be rude to someone who just wanted to tell you how great you were?"

His teeth chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I said I was sorry."

A hand touched my arm, and I looked back at Nicole, who gave me an amused smile. "Babe? I'm going to go back in. I'm also hungry."

I just nodded, letting her walk past the both of us.

He took two steps toward me slowly, eyes fixed on my face. "Nicole, right?" He asked, without taking his eyes off of me. She stopped short in her stride. "Pull a chair up to the table, dinner's on me tonight."

I caught the small smile on her lips before she continued her trek back into the restaurant.

"Well, you all enjoy that." And I turned, ready to get into the car, when I hand caught me by my purse. I stopped, looking back at him.

"Come eat."

Stitching my eyebrows together, I crossed my arms with my sweater between, considering him.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Cause I was a douche."

I sat relatively silent at the table, munching slowly on the personal flatbread pizza I had ordered. It was one of the cheapest items on the menu, and I would be damned if I didn't somehow manage to slip him cash for it before we left.

Noah had loosened up substantially once he started eating. He was leaned back in his chair, flicking fries at Nick across the table, and participating in the conversations swirling around. Nicole, as she always did, melted into the group comfortably, sat next to Folio, and telling story after story of our trip and the festival.

"You guys seriously had to drive to an ATM to pay at the IHOP?" Nick asked incredulously.

"Yep. We sure did. The guy couldn't take card, and we felt bad. We could've just not come back, but that wouldn't be good karma."

I smiled at Nicole, the memory of two nights ago flooding in. An arm bumped mine, and I looked to my left to see Noah, eyes searching my face.

"You still mad at me?"

His voice was entirely different, soft as butter and warm like a fire. I smirked, leaning my elbows on the table.

"Haven't decided yet."

He nodded, sitting up so he was sat closer to me. "Yeah? Well, you shouldn't be."

Resting my chin on my hand, I gazed at him. "Why not?"

He smiled brightly. "Cause you came all this way to see me."

This made me snort, rolling my eyes. "Uh, no. I came all this way to see Bad Omens. Which I did."

"Why fly to Michigan? We were just in Vegas in April."

I nodded. "At Sick New World. I was there." He quirked an eyebrow. "Also at the show in October."

He looked confused. "So why come to Michigan?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I smiled a small grin. "Favorite band."

"We are?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

He smiled, smug. "I mean, not really."

I laughed, leaning back from the table. I was wearing my hoodie now, having become chilly halfway through the meal.

"Bet I can guess your favorite song?"

My eyes darted to his face, amused. "Really?" He looked so sure of himself. "Go for it."

He pursed his lips and stroked his chin dramatically, like a Medium. I tried to hide my laughter.

"Just Pretend?"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "You think I'm that basic?"

He chuckled. "Fair enough." He stared hard at me, trying to get a read. "Death of Peace of Mind?"

Nicole raised a hand. "That one's mine!"

Both of us glanced up at her, not realizing anyone else was listening. He turned back to me, still wracking his brain.

"Dethrone?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Nowhere To Go?"

"Nope, close third, though."

"Third?!"

I giggled, a blush flushing up my neck.

"Which album is it off of?"

"Nuh-uh, that's cheating."

He threw his hands up. "How is that cheating?"

I pursed my lips. "Second album."

"Limits?"

"Bingo."

He clapped his hands together in triumph. "Ha!" He pointed at me. "Knew I'd guess it."

Laughing, I pushed him with my arm. "Yeah, after you guessed half of your songs."

We both broke out in laughter, and it occurred to me that some of the other conversations had stopped. I caught Nick in the corner yawning hard, and my eyes met Nicole's. It was time.

"Well, Noah," I looked back at him. "thank you for the food. We should get going."

His lips downturned, but I was sure I was imagining it. "Oh," He looked back at the rest of the guys. "yeah, us too. Early morning."

I nodded, standing out of my chair, everyone else following suit.

As a group, we made our way out the door, pouring out onto the sidewalk. Nicole bid goodbye to the guys, and I did the same. We hugged them each separately, Noah being last.

I wasn't sure if hugging him was appropriate, given our encounter, so I just stood in front of him while everyone else headed for the cars.

"So," I let my lips turn up in a smile.

His face mimicked mine. "This was fun."

"It was. Despite how it started, it was really great meeting you, Noah."

"You too, October."

The bill in my hand was getting sweaty, so I stepped forward, pushing it toward him. His eyes looked down at my hand, and he put his hands up.

"Oh, no. Dinner was on me."

"Please take it, Noah."

He took a step back, as if what I was holding was poisonous. "Not a chance."

Scoffing, I stepped toward him, pulling my hand back. "I don't like people paying for me."

He pursed his lips. "I'm not taking money from you." I groaned, slipping the two twenties back in my pocket. "I will, however," He looked at me from under his lashes. "take your number, if that's okay?"

I froze, my mind stopping. "Oh, uh,"

He looked as though he may run in the opposite direction, eyes becoming panicked. "You don't have to. I totally get it."

"No, no. I can give it to you." His head snapped up to look at me. "I just, uh," My face fell to stare at the ground for a moment before I spoke. "I'm not really looking for..." I trailed off.

"Oh! No! I just had a lot of fun talking to you. Figured we could keep talking? Like, friends?" His smile was nervous, and it warmed me.

"Okay."

"He asked for your number?!" Nicole nearly screamed at the windshield as she drove us back to the hotel.

I cackled. "Yeah."

"And you gave it to him?!"

I didn't verbally respond, only dropped my head in my hands.

"Holy fuck!"

"He said he just wants to be friends."

"Oh, bullshit. He fucking liked you. I could tell he was into the attitude."

I gasped. "Not true!"

"So fucking true."

"No way, dude. He's Noah Sebastian. And I'm...me."

"You're fucking amazing, I don't know what you mean." Nicole looked nearly offended.

"I know. But he just wants to talk."

She smirked. "With his dick, maybe."

The shrieking laughter that exploded out of me was a mix of shock and hilarity at her comment.

"We'll know for sure if he texts you."

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "We'll see."

As fried as my nerves were, nothing was stopping me from passing out the moment my head hit the pillow of the hotel room bed. I was absolutely cooked, ready to return back to my normal life.

I had received no messages before I knocked out, so I put it out of my head. It was a fun experience, and a sweet gesture of him to take my number, but I knew the likelihood of ever hearing from him again was so slim, it wasn’t worth hoping for.

He didn’t know me, and from what I knew about Noah Sebastian, he was an extremely private person. How did he know I wouldn’t give out his number or share our messages online? I would probably pause before I did anything if I were him.

When my eyes finally cracked open, the fog settled behind my eyes slowly evaporating, I saw Nicole sat up on her bed, looking down at her phone. I grunted, rolling onto my side and pulling the blankets up to my chin.

“What time is it?”

“Nine. We don’t have to leave for the airport for another hour.” She didn’t look up at me, but she smirked when she spoke.

I yawned, letting my eyes fall closed again. “I should go back to sleep, then.”

“You could.” She set her phone in her lap. “Or, you could check your phone.”

Snuggling deeper under the covers, I stretched my legs.

“He hasn’t texted me, dude.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Your phone went off twice about half an hour ago.” She leaned back on her hands. “I already looked at the screen, and it wasn’t your Dad or…anyone else.” She spoke the last words carefully. I knew who she was referring to, and my chest squeezed at the idea.

My hand carefully reached onto the nightstand, gripping my phone. I pulled it in front of my face, tapping in the code, and letting it open. My messages icon showed two red notifications, which I opened hastily.

The messages came from an unknown number. When I opened the thread, my heart halted all its movements.

+17475558326: Hi.

+17475558326: It’s Noah.

My breathing picked back up, and I shot straight up in bed.

“Was it him?!” Nicole was bursting.

My eyes slipped over to look at her, my mouth fallen open. “It was.”

She squealed. “I can’t believe he texted you!”

My fingers shook while holding the phone, threatening to drop it in my lap. “What do I do?!”

“Fucking respond!”

I nodded, my thumbs hovering over the screen but freezing. “What do I say?!”

“Hi? I don’t fucking know?!” She looked amused. I was not.

Me: Good morning.

My finger hovered over the send button for a moment before I finally sent it. Instinctively, I tossed my phone on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest,

“Holy fuck, dude.”

She stood, walking over to my cell and checking the screen. “He’s already read it.”

“Give it.” I held my hand out, and she placed it in my palm.

His type bubble was already up. I took a second to save his name into my phone.

Noah: Sleep okay?

Was this real life?

Me: I did, how about you?

Noah must’ve had the chat open, because my message was read instantly and he started texting back quick.

Noah: Eh, yeah. Hotel beds aren’t my favorite.

Me: Me either. I was so tired, though.

I stood off the bed, stretching my arms over my head. Nicole had disappeared into the bathroom. I pulled my hoodie over my head, and looked at my messages again.

Noah: I’ll bet. You had a busy weekend. Excited to go home?

I thought about my response carefully.

Me: I am. I’m sure my kids are missing me almost as much as I miss them.

It shouldn’t be any big deal to admit that I’ve got kids casually, right? We’re just friends…

The thread indicated he read the messages, but it took him a full five minutes to start typing. My breath held what felt like the entire time, waiting for his text to come through.

Noah: How many kids?

My pulse raced, and I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Me: Two.

Noah: How old?

I raised an eyebrow.

Me: Why do you ask?

He responded slowly.

Noah: Just curious. Making conversation.

I sighed, now slightly concerned.

Me: 9 and 5.

Noah: Boys?

Me: Boy and a girl. My son is older.

Noah: Big brother, huh? Very cool. What’re their names?

I bit my lip, and Nicole was now stood next to the bed staring at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I told him about my kids.”

She eyed me, confused. “And?”

“He’s asking about them.”

Quirking an eyebrow, she sat down next to me. “Are you not comfortable telling him? That’s a valid feeling, babe.” She put a hand on my knee. “You just met him.”

I nodded. “It’s just kind of…I don’t know, strange? Why would he care what my kid’s names are?”

She pursed her lips, staring down at my phone. “Maybe he’s trying to get to know you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I should just tell him?”

“It’s up to you, babe.”

I sent back a quick response.

Me: Michael and Willow

Noah: Nice.

I was brushing my teeth, so I didn’t immediately respond before his next text came in.

Noah: So, if you’ve got kids, does that mean you have a husband?

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

Me: Don’t have to be married to have kids, Noah.

His text that came through almost made me spit my toothpaste all over the mirror.

Noah: Children out of wedlock?! Unacceptable!!

I cackled, and I knew Nicole was wondering, but she didn’t ask.

Me: What can I say? I’m a heathen.

I followed it up quickly.

Me: But, no. Not married. Their Dad is around, but we’re not together.

Noah: I see.

I sighed, not really sure where to go from here. Resolving to changing the subject, I was also packing up my things into my duffel to prepare for our journey to the airport.

Me: Anyway, enough about me. What’re you up to?

Noah: On the bus headed to Mansfield. We should be there in about an hour.

Me: Oh, that’s right. You play Inkcarceration tonight, right?

Noah: Yup. Surprised you won’t be there. 😜

I laughed out loud.

Me: Well, I can only stalk you so much. I have work tomorrow.

Noah: What do you do?

Me: I work for a law firm as a paralegal. It’s a mostly remote gig, so I work from home most days.

Nicole and I loaded our bags into the car, dropping our key cards off at the desk.

Noah: Oh that sounds fun.

Me: It’s not, but it pays the bills.

We made it to the rental car return, and I waited outside while Nicole dropped the keys in the box. We made our way into the airport, now having to pay full attention to the tasks at hand.

Check in, move through TSA, head to Starbucks, find gate.

Nicole had stopped at a gift shop that had an impressive bookstore inside, where I opted to go find seats at the gate. It wasn’t until I was settled in that I was able to check my phone again.

Noah: Well, what would you rather do for a living?

I chewed my bottom lip thinking about this.

Me: I don’t really know, honestly. Thats a tough question.

Me: I’d have to think on that.

Noah: Great, I expect a report back in 3-5 business days. 👍🏻

I cackled at the message, and Nicole sat next to me right as I did.

“Still texting the love of your life?”

I scoffed, locking my phone and looking at her. “Oh, stop. He’s just a guy.”

“Yeah, mhm, sure.” She opened her crispy new novel and began reading the first few pages, successfully ending the short conversation.

Noah: What time’s your flight?

Me: We board in about ten minutes.

Noah: Sweet. You’ll be home soon, you must be relieved.

Me: I am, but I hate flying…

Noah: Really? I’m the same way. It’s the worst.

Me: Any tips for me?

Noah: Depends. Is it the small spaces, or the fear of crashing?

Me: Crashing.

Noah: Oh, yeah…no. Can’t help you there. I have an insane irrational fear of being in a plane crash.

I audibly groaned, sinking into my seat.

Me: Awesome, thanks.

Noah: LOL you’ll be fine. It’ll be a smooth flight and you’ll be home to your kids in no time.

Noah: I usually blast music through the whole flight and just tune everything out.

Me: I’ll try that.

The call for our boarding came, so Nicole and I stood, headed for the line.

Me: We’re about to board. Talk later?

Noah: Yup. Fly safe. Text when you land.

Noah: If you want.

Smiling at my phone, I typed back swiftly.

Me: Will do.

Falling into my bed, I took a moment to stare up at the ceiling.

It was over. I was home. All that was left to do was gather myself, pick up my kids from their Dad, and return back to my regular life.

The thought consumed me. I only had an hour until I was due to pick them up, and as excited as I was to see my babies, I was absolutely floundering at the idea of seeing their Dad…

Things had not ended well between Sean and I. Earlier in the year, we had finally called it quits after nearly a decade. Although we tried hard to amicably end things, it just wasn’t in the cards for us. There was too much history and hurt to let it die peacefully.

I gave myself a few minutes to gather myself before I took my phone out, shooting him a quick text to let him know I’d be there at 5PM, as agreed.

Sean: K.

Sounds about right.

I then realized I had forgotten to text Noah, so I opened our thread.

Me: I got home okay. Did you make it to Ohio safely?

Heading for the backyard to let my dog, Steve, out to use the bathroom, I sat at the table, staring out at the grass.

My phone chimed.

Noah: Nope. Bus crashed. Fiery mess. Blood everywhere.

I smirked.

Me: Damn. RIP.

Noah: We’re at the festival, just hanging for now. We’ve got about an hour before they set up the stage.

Me: Same setlist from last night?

Noah: Probably. We haven’t taken the time to make a new one.

I sighed, making my way back into the house and moving around the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Me: You should.

Noah: Yeah, how so?

Thinking for a moment, I leaned against the counter, and typed on the screen.

Me: Maybe add in something different? Something you haven’t played in a long time?

Noah: Such as…?

I snorted.

Me: Isn’t that your job to decide?

Noah: You can tell me, as a listener, what you’d want to hear.

Noah: What’s your favorite song off the first album?

Me: The Fountain, but that’s too slow.

Noah: I doubt I even know the words to that anymore, dude.

Me: Exit Wounds?

Noah: Meh.

Me: OMG…

Noah: What else?

Me: Worst In Me?

Noah: Hate that song.

Me: Jesus actual Christ.

Noah: Second album? Other than Limits?

Me: Burning Out?

Noah: …

Noah: That might not be a bad one…

Me: Oop?

Noah: I’ve got to talk to Nick. I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll text you later?

Me: Yup. Have a great show!

Noah: That you should be at…

I ignored his last message, sipping my coffee, and steadying myself. He was a little flirty, sure. It didn’t mean my heart didn’t jump each time he did it.

My knuckles tapped the door, and I was greeted by my son Michael, his smile huge.

“Mom!” He rushed me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Hey baby!” I knelt down, pulling him into a tight squeeze.

Behind him, inside the house, my daughter came running as well. “Mama!”

I pulled an arm open for her, encapsulating them both. “Ugh, I missed you guys so hard.”

Letting them loose, I noticed they already had their backpacks on.

“Where’s your Dad?” I looked around inside the apartment, but Michael just waved a hand.

“In his room. He told me to tell you he’ll see you next week.” He was so nonchalant, and although I knew it was forced, I was thoroughly impressed at how strong my young man had been throughout this difficult process.

Silently, I thanked the universe that Sean and I didn’t have to come face to face, and we made our way out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“How was Mushygen?” Willow asked, and I laughed at her pronunciation.

“Michigan was good. Auntie and I had fun, but I’m so glad to be home with you both.” I buckled her in the back of my minivan while Michael climbed in his seat next to hers.

“Did you get to meet any cool bands?” He asked me.

This made me smile as I slid into my seat, starting the vehicle.

“I did. I actually got to meet my favorite band.”

“Bad Omens?!” His voice cracked, and I smiled bigger.

“Yes! We ran into them at a restaurant last night!”

“What were they like?” He was curious, being a bit of a fan himself.

“Super nice, really cool guys.” I skipped over mine and Noah’s introductory debacle.

“That’s so cool, Mom!” Willow chirped from her seat.

“How was your weekend at Dad’s?” I asked them.

They proceeded to give me the full rundown of their three days with their father. They went to the park, out to dinner, but mostly stayed in at the apartment, given how hot it was. They couldn’t wait to go back next weekend.

Sean was a lot of things, but I’d never lie and say he wasn’t a good father to his kids.

Once back at home, I began working on dinner. Spaghetti, per the children’s request. After dinner were baths/showers, two hours of hangout time, before they had to go to bed. It was summer, so bedtime was midnight.

About 8:30PM, while I was sat on my Chaise lounger curled up with Willow watching Inside Out, my phone buzzed next to me.

Noah: That was a good choice. Turns out, a lot of people know that song.

Me: I’m glad it went well! Did the rest of the set go smoothly?

Noah: Sure did. It was tiring, and I’m ready to go home. But festivals are fun.

Me: When do you head back home?

Noah: Tonight. We’ve got stuff coming up on Thursday, so we’ve got to get going ASAP. Takes three days to make it back to LA.

I felt Willow shift next to me, and I noticed she was snoozing comfortably. It was already after 9PM, so I decided it was time to carry her into her room.

Laying her small body in bed and tucking her pale pink blanket over her, I left her with a kiss on the forehead and turned on her nightlight.

When I made it back to my spot, I flipped to SVU, and responded to his text.

Me: That’s a long drive. I don’t envy you.

Noah: You’ve got work tomorrow, I don’t envy you.

Smiling, I leaned back in my seat and covered up with my throw blanket.

Me: Fair enough.

The days passed tediously. Two weeks had gone by since I came home from Michigan. Every day, like clockwork, Noah texted me. Not the entire day, but most of it. We talked about a lot. My job. His music. Our favorite movies. Favorite places. Our hobbies. Our tattoos.

I was working in-office today, smiling at my phone because of the messages we were exchanging.

Noah: How big is it?

Me: Hip to knee.

Noah: WOAH.

I smirked. I was referring to a tattoo of an octopus I have on my left thigh.

Noah: Pic?

Me: I don’t have any off hand.

The flirting had been mild at best, but once in a while, he would say something suggestive, and it made me smile. Still, I would typically change the subject.

Noah: Damn. I’ll just have to see it in person.

This made my stomach twirl. In person? Throughout these last couple weeks, at no point had we discussed meeting in person again. I mean, it was possible, I’m sure. But it hadn’t really registered as a possibility.

While talking to Noah over text only, it almost made the entire experience feel unreal.

Me: I don’t remember seeing any Vegas tour dates on your website, sir.

His text took a few to come through.

Noah: Sir…?

Whoops. Maybe that was a bad move.

Noah: Vegas isn’t far. And didn’t you say you’re going to be in LA in September?

Chewing the skin off of my lip, I clutched my phone.

Me: To see Falling in Reverse and Black Veil Brides.

Noah: Maybe I could go.

Me: I didn’t think you listened to them?

Noah: Not so much, but if you’re going to be there, I think it could be fun.

That made my insides twist. He wanted to see me?

Me: Well, guess I’ll see you there, then?

After work, I dropped the kids at Sean’s. He had requested we do contactless drop off now, to try and avoid any arguments…like my children were a fucking Uber delivery.

He would stand outside, I’d let them out of the car, and they’d walk up to the apartment. It was fucking childish, but I didn’t argue. I had no energy left for Sean anymore. He had taken it all.

At home, I began the process of decompressing for the week, still fuming over my ex’s immaturity. First order of business was to uncork my Rosé, and fill my tallest glass.

I stood at the counter, heels kicked off to the floor of the kitchen, and chugged a few gulps of the drink.

My phone began chiming in my bag, and I fished it out. Someone was FaceTiming me?

Noah…

Noah was FaceTiming me?

I swiped the call open, not bothering to check my appearance first, and his face looked back at me. He was sitting at a desk, bed behind him, wearing a t-shirt and his hair was messy.

“Hey.” I said, apprehensive.

“Hey, sorry, is this a bad time?”

I shook my head, taking another long pull from my glass. “Not at all. Just got home from dropping the kids off.” My tone contradicted my words, my agitation still leaking in.

“You sure? Lookin’ a little stressed there, October.”

I snorted, propping my phone against the stove, and refilling my glass.

“Long day. What’s up?”

He sat back in his chair, hands folded over his chest. “Just wanted to see you.”

My fingers gripped the counter. “You did?”

“Yeah, texting gets old.”

I nodded. “It does.”

“Want to talk about your day?”

I groaned, the alcohol already softening the edges of my brain slightly. “You don’t even want to know.”

He pursed his lips. “Try me?”

Waving a hand in front of me, I swallowed the last of my second glass. “It’s just my children’s father being a dick. Nothing new.”

Lifting a brow, he cocked his head to the side. “What’d he do?”

As messy as ever, I poured a third and final glass, emptying the bottle, and dropping it in the trash can. Lifting my hand to my hair, I pulled the clip loose, shaking my hair out.

“He asked for contactless delivery with the kids.” I said as I lifted the glass to my lips.

He looked taken back. “Like…a pizza?”

“That’s what I said!” I shook my head. “He’s a fucking coward. He can’t even fucking face me without being an asshole.”

“Then maybe it’s better you don’t see each other?”

Shrugging, I ran a hand through my hair. “Fuck, probably.”

Looking at him, I noticed he was walking now, phone in hand.

“Anyway, fuck that guy. How was your day?”

He set the phone back down, and he was clearly in his kitchen. “Uneventful. Played with some beats. Caught up on some of the shows I’d been missing.”

I walked to my room, pulling a t-shirt from the hanger. “I’m going to set you down a sec so I can change.”

He just nodded. “Should I make pasta or tacos for dinner?”

I shouted at the phone as I pulled my shirt over my head and slipped my pants off. “Pasta, always pasta.”

Satisfied, he began pulling items from the cabinet.

“Oh, Noah!” I stood, only in my shirt covering my underwear. He turned to look at me as I lifted the phone. “Did you want to see the tattoo now?”

He padded back to where his phone was at, and leaned down close to the screen. I set my phone on my dresser and stepped backward to get myself in the frame. Feeling sheepish, I carefully worked to only show my ink, and not my crotch.

“Hmm,” He mused. “Cant see it. Better take the shirt off too.”

My eyes rolled, and I grabbed the phone. “Perv.”

He snickered, smiling at me. “What? Beautiful tattoo on a beautiful woman? Can you blame me?”

My cheeks reddened, and I quickly slipped my sweats on. “Guess not.”

He placed a pot of water on the stove to boil, and stepped back, twirling a wooden spoon in his hand. His eyes considered me as I moved back into the kitchen to start working on my own meal.

“Can I ask you something, October?”

Distractedly, melting some butter, scallions, and garlic in a pan, I responded. “Sure.”

“When I asked you for your number, back in Michigan, you acted like you weren’t looking to date anyone.”

My eyes shot over to the phone, my hand stopping its stirring. “Mhm…”

“That’s true? You’re not looking to date?”

Trying to concentrate on my task, I added the cream to the roux I had made. “Not right now, why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, dropping his pasta in the boiling pot. “Curious.”

“Yeah? Cause that’s a super pointed question for just curiosity.”

He smiled to himself, not looking at the camera. “Alright, maybe I’m a little more than curious.”

I turned my full attention to him, adding Parmesan to my Alfredo base. “What’s ��a little more than curious’?”

He looked at me then, eyes piercing me. “Interested?”

Death. That’s what I felt right then. Heart rate explosive, mind racing, eye twitching. No words can describe the feeling when someone as unbelievable as Noah Sebastian tells you they’re interested…

“Y-You’re…interested?”

He nodded slowly, stirring his pot. “I am.”

Stuttering like a cat, I nearly dropped my spoon. “Why?” I managed to choke out.

His face was bewildered. “Why not?”

Biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, I nearly let my sauce boil over.

“Uh,” I moved the pan from the burner and poured my pasta in the water. “I mean, it’s a valid question.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Noah…” I sighed hard, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Have you seen you?”

“A few times.” He laughed as he strained his noodles. “And?”

“I’m not,” I pointed toward him. “that.”

“A dude? Yeah, I didn’t think so but I didn’t exactly want to ask.”

I narrowed my eyes, smirking. “Smart ass.”

“I don’t see the confusion here.”

“You’re being willfully ignorant.” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“How so?” He answered as he threw butter and seasonings into the pot.

Sucking my teeth, I rolled my eyes. “Noah, you’re an actual rockstar.”

“Kay, and?”

“And I’m a normal person.”

“I’m sorry,” He held up the spoon that was scooping noodles into a bowl. “Am I not?”

“I have kids. A job. Baggage. We live in different states. You’re,” I gestured to him again. “far out of my league.”

He shook his head. “I disagree.”

He moved to his table, propping me up on something I couldn’t see.

“Well, you’re wrong.”

He shoveled food into his mouth, taking a moment to chew. I strained my own pasta.

“How do you figure? You’re funny, interesting, fiery, beautiful…”

My throat went dry.

“What’s the issue?”

Putting my pasta together and getting it onto a plate, I walked over to my own table. “You’re forgetting the baggage part.”

He waved a hand. “You’ve got kids. So what?”

I dropped my fork. “So what?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, what’s the big deal?”

“Uhh,” I drawled. “you don’t? And probably don’t need that in your life right now.” I sighed. “Or someone who has them. They’re always first priority.”

Nodding, he continued eating. “As they should be.”

Biting into my food, I stared at him, no words coming to mind.

“Look,” He set his fork down. “I’m not saying I want to marry you.” I choked at the word. “I just like you.”

My eyes widened, my jaw stopping mid-chew.

“I just want to take you on a date or something. See how it goes when I’m not super cranky.” He smirked.

Oh God. It was so enthralling, hearing the words come out of his mouth…

The temptation was strong.

But…

“I can’t, Noah.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “No?”

My head hung in frustration.

“I like you, too. A lot. But,” I pushed my plate away, suddenly losing all of my appetite. “I’m still dealing with a lot. I’m trying to get back to a sense of normalcy here. Sean just moved out three months ago. My kids are my entire life. I feel like I’m living in a storm at all times. I’ve got to get a handle on that for now.”

He was silent as I spoke, and I knew I had blown it.

“Are you mad?”

His tongue rolled around in his mouth before he spoke. “No. I won’t lie, I’m disappointed, but your reasoning is valid. I respect that.”

A man? Respecting me? Wild concept.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk anymore.”

He looked perplexed, taking a drink from his water bottle. “Why would I want that?”

I didn’t verbally respond, I just stared at him.

“I like you for more than a date, October. I like talking to you. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep doing that.”

My face warmed, and I couldn’t stop the smile spreading. “I’d like that, too.”

“Alright.” He slapped a hand on the table. “That settles that. We’ll stay friends.” He picked his fork back up and kept eating.

I almost didn’t catch the last words come out of his mouth.

“For now.”

[vykio]

Jeandrew, cinema

The challenge was to write 500 words (I wrote more...like 530 LOL) in 1 hour! Just to get in some writing exercises so I did not tweak it too much. Still, I'm happy with how it came out, this mundane little thing.

Jane gave me the prompt: some combination of jean andrew or neil in cinema or video rental or arcade or bowling alley

-

“Thoughts on Scott Pilgrim?”

Jean glances over his shoulder and spots Andrew. He’s looking up at the small selection of films playing this month instead of at Jean. Jean frees his hand from behind the soda machine, abandoning the rag he’s using to clean the counter. It’s sticky with sugar and butter from the butter dispenser, accumulated over the week. He’s the only one that bothers cleaning anything up, though his efforts certainly go unnoticed considering how old and dilapidated the town’s cinema is. Still, if he is to suffer long days waiting for someone to find their selection interesting, he should at least do it in a clean space. Every week, Andrew finds him like this; he’s his only regular.

Jean wipes his hands on his uniform pants and almost instantly regrets it. He steps up to the counter and cranes his neck up to see what the other movies are even though they’re the same ones from the beginning of the week: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Sherlock Holmes, Zootopia, Prince of Persia. It certainly is a variety.

“Have you seen it?” Jean asks. Andrew looks at him with an unimpressed expression Jean interprets as that’s a stupid question. Jean knows it doesn’t matter anyway if he’s seen it. Andrew comes in, peruses the menu of usually old movies, picks one and asks Jean his opinion on it. Sometimes they compare notes at the end, and Andrew leaves with his second order of Coke. 

Jean searches his mind to say something non-spoilery but he isn’t sure Andrew cares. Grabbing a large bag of popcorn and snapping it open, he gives his honest review. “We would all be better off if we admitted Scott Pilgrim is just an incel.”

The corner of Andrew’s mouth quirks up, which fills Jean with satisfaction. He hands him his drink and his ticket, and spends the length of the movie texting Neil about Andrew’s selection and salvaging the rag he left behind to clean other spots.

Jean knows the movie is over when he hears someone loudly take the last sips of their soda. He stands from where he’s crouched behind the counter and points the dustpan in his hand in their direction. “Obnoxious.” Andrew shakes his cup side to side, rattling the ice, and Jean comes up to pull it out of his hands. As he refills it, he asks, “How was the movie?”

“Fine.” Andrew pulls his folded ticket from his pocket and flicks it open to examine it. “Lots of action, which I love. The sloth scene did take me out.”

“Sloth,” Jean repeats, confused.

“Sloth,” Andrew confirms. He waits, then Jean rips out the ticket from Andrew’s hand. It does say Scott Pilgrim vs. The World on it. He remembers the display.

“You went to see Zootopia.” Andrew’s face shifts with amusement. Jean hates it when he switches theatres without warning. “Stop doing that. You’ll get me in trouble.”

“I’m sure.” Andrew’s voice does carry the right amount of skepticism; no one else but Andrew—and certainly not his boss—is ever here on Jean’s shifts. “Working next week?”

“Yes,” he says, and Andrew leaves Jean to wait for their next encounter.

[mapping-elysium]

Let's start this off right with one of the most notable lore-dumps in the game, the Plaza Rain Shivers check.

In the west

Stairs to the water

Sea Fortress > Bay of Revachol > Sky scrapers of La Delta

What’s down the shore?

Defunct R+E building > Abandoned Church > Coal City

In the east

Industrial Harbor (Locked) > La Drisienne - King Dris’ Passengers Harbour > River Distributary > Couron > “The Class Divide”

In the north

Whirling Yard > Capeside apartments

“Standing in the rain, looking north, where jamrock rock city stretches inland”

In the south

Traffic jam, roundabout, statue > Road ascends to 8/81 (ghetto beneath) > Jamrock

OTHER NOTES

Where do i live?

On a street there that flows like a muddy river in the snow, with fire traps rising on either side. A film rental opens its doors to the rain, an armoured motor carriage rushes past the corner where you used to walk together... Suddenly, the hair on your back rises.

“YOU CANNOT RETURN”

SOURCE MATERIAL BENEATH THE CUT

Shivers - All around you, rain falls on the great city of Revachol. Rain drips from the eaves and floods the gutters, washing the filth away.

Shivers - The spring thaw must be here. The snow is melting...

You - What am I doing?

Shivers - Looking up at the sky, cold water dripping from your hair.

You - What do I see?

Shivers - Grey sky like great battleships, clouds colliding with one another. Rain falls down on the world.

You - How does it feel?

Shivers - Your shirt sticks to your chest. The shoulders of your disco blazer grow heavy. The cold finds its way in under your skin. You shiver, and the city shivers with you.

Composure - You're not dressed for this weather. You should get an overcoat, or a patrol cloak.

You - What is in the west?

Shivers - Sheets of rain over the water. A flight of stairs leading into the ocean. Wave after wave washing the coast of Martinaise, with its motorboats and gently swaying reeds.

Shivers - The ruins of a half-sunken seafort crumble on an inlet. Beyond the Bay of Revachol, ghosts rise into the sky.

You - Who are you, ghosts?

Shivers - The skyscrapers of La Delta, the financial district. Faint golden light seeps from the office windows.

Inland Empire - Will you ever go there?

You - Will I?

Shivers - No. You are just one of the hundreds of thousands who watch them rise across the bay from Martinaise every day.

You - What is down the shore?

Shivers - Urban coastline, rain dripping off eternite-covered roofs. Cinder blocks left over from half-finished construction. A defunct research and development building once seized by revolutionaries. An old wooden church stands on stilts above the water.

You - And beyond that?

Shivers - Coal City, end of all lines.

You - Run your fingers through your dampened hair.

Shivers - Your hair is an oily mess flecked with ash from neighbouring coal plants. Smoke stacks rise somewhere in the distance.

You - What's in the east?

Shivers - The great gates of the industrial harbour are locked. A chill runs down your back. You shudder like an animal trying to shake water from its hide.

You - Clench your teeth to stop shuddering.

Shivers - Behind the gates -- heaps of supply crates. Red and blue metal shipping containers slick with rain. The Greater Revachol Industrial Harbour is an artificial mountain range. Immense wealth resides within, and immeasurable poverty in its shadow.

You - And before that?

Shivers - You -- on the Martinaise plaza. A small dot looking up at the sky. Droplets form on your eyelashes.

You - And beyond that?

Shivers - La Drisienne, King Dris's Passenger Harbour. Cruise ships flanked by dock arms. Cranes watching over the mouth of the river distributary.

You - What is across the distributary?

Shivers - Couron, the lower middle class. Distributary after distributary cuts the city blocks in half. Seven-story buildings trail off into the rain.

You - What is beyond the Couron?

Shivers - A silvery curtain of rain over the houses. The class divide.

Rhetoric - You have never been there. They don't need the law east of the river.

You - What's in the north?

Shivers - Capeside apartments -- tower blocks crowd one another, 4.46 mm bullets still lodged in their war-torn stone walls.

Shivers - Hallways collapsed from the mortar hits of a war that was lost long ago. Clotheslines go to waste in the rain. Radios play.

Rhetoric - The morning news.

You - And closer to here?

Shivers - A yard. Rain falls onto the roof of a woodshed. Filthy water pools around a body. Droplets of rain slip from the dead man's cold cheeks.

You - What's in the south?

Shivers - A traffic jam. Rain thrumming on the roofs of motor vehicles. Inside, drivers watch water streaming down their windshields. The statue of a king shudders, he too is cold. The canal bridge has been raised.

You - What's on the other side?

Shivers - The road ascends; a raised motorway loops above the ghetto. Beneath its concrete columns -- a sea of rooftops, woodwork, and tar stretches northward. Four-story buildings as far as the rain can fall. The snows melt in Jamrock.

You - What is Jamrock?

Shivers - Revachol is the capital of the world. Jamrock is the capital of Revachol. Droplets form on your eyelashes.

Inland Empire - It's home.

You - Why am I not there?

Shivers - To be in Martinaise, where no one goes. At the run-off point of a long-forgotten canal, in the whitest part of town. In the shadow of the day the Revolution failed.

You - What am I doing here?

Shivers - Standing in the rain, looking north, where Jamrock Rock City stretches inland.

You - Where do I live?

Shivers - On a street there that flows like a muddy river in the snow, with fire traps rising on either side. A film rental opens its doors to the rain, an armoured motor carriage rushes past the corner where you used to walk together... Suddenly, the hair on your back rises.

Shivers - YOU CANNOT RETURN.

You - "Motherfucker." [Finish thought.]

[busterswritehand]

You're Timeless To Me

-

Roughly 180 years after the events of ACOSF, Lucien looks up to find that he is surrounded by strangers. Meanwhile, Nesta realizes she has stayed still while the world around her keeps moving. Misery loves company, but these two can hardly make small talk.

-

Part 5

-

"You want me to do what?" Lucien choked on his tea. He looked at the female sitting across the table from him.

Nesta stared him down unphased by his reaction. "I want you to teach me how to be a proper emissary." She cocked a brow. "Will that be too difficult for you?"

Lucien couldn't hide a small awkward smile creeping on his face. He looked around to at the other groups relaxing on the cafe patio.

"It would definitely be an undertaking," he said. Lucien shifted his focus back to Nesta. "You're not really a people's person."

"I know. That's why I need your help." Nesta spoke through gritted teeth.

Lucien stared at Nesta. He could tell she was choking on her swallowed pride.

He sipped on his tea, "Please."

"What?"

"I need your help, please."

Nesta stared at him. He could see that baffled frustration written on her face. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't need all the reasons you've suddenly taken an interest in this," Lucien said. He had a few theories, none being that she had a genuine interest in politics, but it was obvious Nesta was not keen on sharing. He would not push her, he knew better. "Just a simple please will do."

"So you'll help me?"

"I'll consider it." Lucien hid his amusement for once. He should have known something was up when Feyre asked him to meet with Nesta - at her own request no less. "You have a whole day to convince me."

"Fine," Nesta said. "Tell me what would help you make a decision."

Lucien looked to the mountain lines that were mostly hidden by buildings. He drummed his fingers on the table.

"Have you ever been in one of those automobiles?" He turned to face her. Nesta's straight face was anything but amused.

"You can get into one of those death traps," she sneered. "I'll watch."

"Don't tell me you're scared." Lucien extended a hand toward her.

Nesta studied him.

"I'm not scared," she said simply. "I'm just not stupid."

"Come on, it'll be fun." Lucien watched Nesta as she hesitantly took his hand.

"You better know how to drive one of those things."

"Once or twice," he smiled slyly.

Nesta swatted his shoulder with her free hand. Lucien laughed. It was just too easy to tease her, and he suspected that she didn't mind it as much as she let on. Maybe it was the smile peaking out from her pursed lips when she huffed. Or maybe, it was the fact that she didn't let go of his hand.

"Are you going to take us there or not," Nesta demanded.

"Right away," Lucien said.

He wasted no time winnowing to the outskirts of town where he had spotted automobiles racing around a few nights prior. As he suspected, there was an automobile rental store nearby. Lucien lead the way.

"I'll let you pick the color." He nudged her with his elbow.

Nesta gave him a side eye and clicked her tongue. He looked at her, waiting for a reply. She craned her neck towards him.

"Are you serious," she asked.

Lucien nodded, humming. Nesta tilted her head and looked him up and down. Lucien did not have the slightest clue what she was thinking, but he was curious to know what was running through her mind. Nesta faced the building in front of them and straightened her back.

"Lavender," she said. "Good luck finding it."

Nesta took a seat on a bench outside of the building, leaving Lucien to go in alone. He should've known she wouldn't make it easy. Nevertheless, he accepted her challenge.

Lucien walked through the doors and was immediately greeted by a salesperson. The salesperson ushered Lucien around the giant building with all sorts of automobiles. Lucien took a liking to a newer model that lacked a roof. Although there were none in lavender, there was one in a unique shade that piqued his interest. He rented out the car for the afternoon to the delight of the dealer. Wasting no time, Lucien drove it to the front of the building.

"Yellow?" Nesta eyed the automobile in disgust as Lucien turned off the engine.

"Dandelion," Lucien replied, hopping out of the vehicle. "Some poor soul ordered a custom paint job and quickly regretted it."

"I can see why."

Lucien didn't need to look at Nesta to know she was watching him. He walked over to the passenger side and opened the door. Nesta slowly stood up, straightening her skirt.

"Let's get this over with." She walked past him into the vehicle.

He closed the passenger door and made his way back to the driver's side. He turned on the engine. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nesta gripping the door with her hand. Her harsh gaze met his.

"Don't kill us."

"I promise not to." He meant it for what it was worth

Lucien found the way automobiles were treated as a novelty here to be peculiar. For humans, it was an admirable form of travel. For fae, however, it was nothing more than a hobby - like painting or card games. It made sense, he supposed since most forms of human transportation could never compare to fae ability. In all fairness, he rarely drove in such vehicles himself. He did not need to.

The driving track weaved through the mountain cliffs. Trees occasionally provided a barrier between the cliffside and the road. He glanced over at Nesta whose tight updo was coming undone in the wind. She did not seem irritated though; the female was easing into her seat with her fingers dancing in the wind.

Looking back out at the road, Lucien caught a glimpse of an aerial view of Velaris. He had seen a similar angle from the House of Wind, but what he was witnessing now was far beyond it. He started to understand why Feyre had taken such a liking to flying. Although Lucien had been taken on flights by Feyre's friends, they were more like short, awkward landings. This was different.

The trail ended at the plateau of a cliff - a perfect lookout spot. Lucien rolled the automobile off of the path. He was barely done parking the vehicle when Nesta hopped out.

"Could you wait a moment," Lucien whipped his head around to chastise her. What he saw instead of an agitated female was Nesta making her way to the edge of the lookout.

He slowly approached her.

There was no tension in her shoulders, but they were weighed down.

"I didn't realize my driving was that bad." Lucien stood beside her,

"It's not that." Nesta didn't face him. Instead, she looked ahead. "The view just reminds me of -"

"The House of Wind," he finished her sentence. "I was thinking the same thing."

She smiled faintly, a huff of laughter escaping her lips. He could see the melancholic nostalgia in her eyes. He wondered why she moved out, but that's not the question he asked.

"Do you miss it?"

"In some ways, yes." She looked over at him. They studied each other. Like she could read his mind, Nesta replied. "I - We needed a change, Cassian and myself."

Lucien nodded.

"Your driving could use some work though."

"Noted," Lucien chuckled.

The two stood there looking out at the city in silence. When they could no longer stand up, they sat down. From the view, they could see the busy market streets, the towering buildings, and the rendezvous on the outskirts of the city. Lucien and Nesta broke the silence every so often pointing out small details that could only be noticed from their birdseyeview. It was a kind of peace he had not felt in a long time.

"I'll come up with a proposal for Feyre and Rhysand," Lucien said breaking that peace. "I'll talk to them before Starfall."

"Before you leave."

"Yeah," he nodded.

He didn't want to leave so soon, but this was not his home.

[utterlyinevitable]

Where It Begins (23/?)

↪ series masterlist  

23. Buzzin’

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington   Format: textfic   Chapter Rating: T+

Summary: first full day at her new place

He wakes up to a haze of sunlight spilling into the all-white room through the cracks of the pull blinds, casting warm hues of early morning. Eyelids fluttering over eyes as green as an easygoing spring meadow.

For a moment Colin could not remember where he is - the room is too stuffy, the rays peering in are too cool on his face, and his feet are just about hanging off the bed. It takes some time. He doesn’t dare look until he gets his bearings because it is all too real to be a dream. 

He feels the subtle dip of the too-small mattress mere millimeters away, his arm brushing a warm body laying next to him. Barely any true contact but the electricity tingles and has his hairs standing on end, and he knows. His heart recognizes where he is before his brain can catch up. This is reality.  

So his fingers extended to caress - a ghost of a touch - her soft wrist under the sheets. Then, Colin cranes his head to the side to really see her. Her too blonde hair fans across the pillow like a halo. A pink silk eye-mask sits perfectly on her face. She’s so serene in the golden light.    

Colin rolls over on his side, carefully as can be, just to look at her better. He doesn’t think about all the days that have passed since they were last together or how much she has changed - come into her own. Doesn’t even think about the swelling of his chest with pride that has become synonymous with thoughts of her. There’s nothing in his mind, just the steady beating of his heart carrying adoration throughout his veins. Bliss doesn’t come close to how he is feeling in this moment, with her at last, again.

It takes everything in him to stop from tunning a thumb over her pinkened cheek. To lean over to place a tender kiss to her forehead.

Her heart is beating in time with his and her breaths are even, and he’s never wanted his lips to touch her skin more.

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed - certainly not the last, either. Not a first that he had the urge to kiss her and wake her up with lavish relaxing either. But this is different, somehow. Hell, they’ve shared her bed the night before and he hadn’t been hit with this much longing. A twist in his chest and sense of being all too far away even though she’s pressed up to him. 

Two nights ago they fell into bed with a smattering of kisses and clothes strewn on the floor. Last night couldn’t have been any different. They didn’t christen the room, though there was every opportunity to. 

"I'm gonna head out," he’d said after catching Pen’s face half swallowed by her yawn. 

"What?"

"Let you acclimatize to the place," he’d said emphatically, like it was obvious.  

"Stay."

He patted the cushion next to him, "This couch is quite comfortable." 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she’d said.  

He woke up with her in his arms, back cuddle right up against him. He’s lucky she’s a heavy sleeper or he would have never made it out of there.

His antsy body and addled mind guided him on a morning walk through her new neighborhood. Colin has always had trouble sleeping in the first night somewhere new, usually he would have the foresight to plan a special excursion or early breakfast and content planning. But not today; his plans thrown out the window with that one word. And now he needed to move. Get out of there before he did something irreparably stupid.  

It’s just lust. Get out there, you’ll see!

You’re mad.

Colin’s feet carried him of their own volition as his mind reeled, rolled through the rolodex to mitigate this change in plans. Extending the rental - How much is the day rate again? The odds of getting back to London today are slim... Food. Where’s a cafe? There’s gotta be one near her place... Would he get his own rental place in London? No, definitely not. Not anytime soon anyway. Colin doesn’t want to think a single thought on Her. Definitely not about what she would think waking up without him. He’s never not been there with her. Colin always stays.  

“You didn't bring the keys?” Penelope opens her apartment door with the most adorable sleep fueled divot between her brows. 

“Forgot to grab them both," he dangles the single key ring with the larger key to her apartment door as he slides passed her to saunter towards the kitchen with his spoils. “Breakfast!” he pops down the two coffees and brown bag right next to the forgotten building key on the kitchen table.

He watches as she perks up, her nose wriggling excitedly. 

Her eyes are round and still so filled with sleep, a weight lifting at the knowledge she didn’t wake up that long ago. She’s wearing that old Green Day tee she nicked from him in Madrid and pastel pink knickers with zebras on them. Her hair standing up in every which way. Colin clears his throat and unpacks their spoils before his mind could get any more ideas. 

“What's your plan for the next week?”

“Unpack,” she says through a large bite of breakfast sandwich. “Learn the city. De-stress and maybe see some of the sights before starting work.” 

He nods his agreement, his own mouth unattractively filled with egg and bacon butty. 

“I..” she stutters, like she’s not sure she could trust him with this hidden part of her. What secrets could she possibly keep from him? They’re not as close, but closer than they were - and maybe there’s some things off limits between them but not enough for her to think she can’t trust him. 

“I want to be different,” she finally says. “Be the best version of myself. Get out there! Join a club or get a gym -” 

“A book club?”

She smiles.

“I'll be your workout buddy,” he smirks, and much to his delight she playfully rolls her eyes. “I can be Jim if you want, too.”

“You're incorrigible.” 

They both laugh. 

At least they can laugh about it. This weird situationship they’re in, if he can even call it that - Would she agree? Is this more? 

“Shall we go on holiday?”

Pen freezes, last bites of her sandwich suspended, hovering just out of reach of her mouth. 

“I literally just moved in, Col. I can’t go gallivanting.”

“Oh but you can, mon cher,” he leans in, his brow wiggling and that conspiratory smirk he knows she can’t resist at home on his lips. “Let’s be tourists. Do and see all the things before it truly becomes your home.”

By the way she’s worrying her lip, he knows the answer. 

“And afterwards if you still want Jim…”

She playfully scrunched her face up and threw the rubbish bag at him.

“Tomorrow,” she’d promised. 

--

"Pennnnnn,” Colin whine-yells from his spot on her living room floor, where he abandoned his task of unpacking her books. 

“Yessss?”

“I'm famished.”

Silence. He’s wasting away after spending the entire day unpacking with her and she’s silent. 

“Did you not hear me?” he calls out again. 

“Pennn.” 

With a humph Colin picks himself up and pads towards her room. He’s not prepared for what he witnesses. 

There, on the floor, surrounded by articles of clean clothing is Penelope, still in the pajamas she’s worn all day folding items into her chest of drawers. Next to her, glowing bright and so offensive is a timer ticking off the last ten minutes. He’d expect this kind of stunt from his siblings but from her..

Colin gasps performatively, incredulous and dripping with mock hurt.   

“Wanted to see how long you'd last,” she says, tapping stop and not even glancing his way. “What you've added is fine for me.” 

Oh no, this won’t do. 

“I've changed my mind. Lets go out.”

[notalwayslate]

Driven to Love

For:  of-princes-and-savages.tumblr.com

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers, Road Trip

Summary:  As a snowstorm grounds the last flight to Maine, Belle French finds herself stranded at the airport. When she discovers the town pariah, Mr. Gold has rented the last car the two come to an agreement to travel together. They embark on a journey of self discovery, secrets, and confessions.

Read on A03 :  https://archiveofourown.org/works/43865535

She was cursed. There was simply no other reasonable explanation for it.

Any sane person would have known flying two days before Christmas was a bad idea, but she had only finished her final exams a week prior and spent the last week packing up her life preparing to move back home to Storybrooke.

Her immense joy of graduating with a degree in library science, a full semester early, was currently dampened as her tiny scrunched up frame sat between an overweight man, and an older woman eating a tuna fish sandwich.

The back of her seat thumped for the umpteenth time courteous of the screaming child behind her. Craning her neck, she peaked over the seats in front of her. The first-class curtain hung open just enough for her eyes to lock on the empty first-class aisle seat.

“Jerk,” she thought to herself, still miffed at the denial to sit there. She knew she should be grateful that she was at least on this plane, as the early morning flight she was originally booked on had been canceled, and hers was the last name to be called for standby. But being the last person to board a sold-out flight, you only have one option where to sit, or so she had thought.

Hope had risen in her chest, as the bubbly red headed flight attendant, stopped her mid aisle, whispering about an open first-class seat, and to let her see what she could do. She waited with eager anticipation, watching the smiling flight attendant make her way to first class, but returning soon after with a frown.

“Sorry. The very rude passenger bought both seats and insists the second stay empty.”

Disappointed she had sat down accepting her fate. One hour into the flight, the pilot announced the plane was being diverted due to a massive snowstorm hitting Maine. Fifteen minutes later, the plane pulled into the tiny airport of Pottsville, Pennsylvania. She popped up quickly, her small stature allowing her to stand in the aisle without hitting her head. Curiously, she kept on eye on the empty first-class seat, wanting to see what type of person demands two seats for themselves. Her jaw dropped as a familiar suited figure emerged from the window seat. It was no other than Mr. Gold.

How could she have not seen him when she boarded? Thinking back, she figured he must have been one of the passengers reading the newspaper as she passed. “Could this day get any worse?” she muttered under her breath.

That answer came as she was corralled off the plane into an overcrowded line of irate passengers. As the bad news that all flights were grounded until further notice made its way down the line, she glanced around searching for Mr. Gold, who was nowhere to be found. She could only assume he was being catered to in some first-class lounge.

Pulling out her phone, her first thought was to text her father to let him know of the delay but the thought of his heartbreak that she may miss Christmas sparked her to take a different course. Praying for some luck, she went on a travel site, her heart skipping a beat, as she saw one car left for rent.

Hastily she punched in her credit card information and clicked the book it button. She let out a victorious “yes!” as the confirmation number popped up on her screen.

She was thankful she traveled with only a carry on, as she quickly left the chaotic nightmare behind her boarding the shuttle bus for the rental car company. The wind was brisk, and although it was snowing, she knew it was nothing compared to what Maine was being hit with.

As the shuttle pulled up, she spotted the one lone brown car in the lot.

“Looks like you got the last one,” the driver exclaimed stopping the shuttle in front of the office.

“I guess my luck is changing,” she smiled back exiting the shuttle making her way into the small well-lit office. The lone employee, a middle-aged balding man, stood behind the counter, counting a wad of cash, which he quickly stuck into his shirt pocket as she approached.

Pulling out her phone, she smiled giving the man her name and confirmation number, but as he made no move to type in her information, her stomach clenched with dread.

“I’m sorry ma’am all of our cars are in use.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she insisted she had a reservation for the car, but it fell upon death ears. Looking down, she spotted the latest rental contract on the counter, with an all too familiar signature on it. It was the same signature that graced every rental receipt her father ever received.

Looking out the window, the headlights turned on the car that was supposed to be hers. In that moment something snapped within her. With a fierce determination she stormed out the door, slamming her hands down on the hood of the rental car.

“Are you crazy?” a heavy accented voice boomed, as the driver side door flew open.

“This is my car, Mr. Gold.” She barked back noting his startled look at the use of his name. Squinting her way, recognition dawned on his puzzled face.

“Ms... Ms. French?” he asked.

She knew she sounded like a raging lunatic, as she stood before him listing out all his atrocities for that day, from the first-class seat to his payoff of the rental car employee. To his credit, he just stood there listening to her long-winded tirade against him.

“Well, we are destined for the same place, Ms. French. You are more than welcome to join me in MY car if you so choose, if not then I suggest you get out of my way.” With her chest still heaving from her emotional outburst, she felt a small triumph for the first time that day with his offer.

“I will go with you,” she nodded, moving towards the car, as he popped open the trunk. Lifting her suitcase in, she was surprised to find him suddenly standing next to her.

“You drive,” he commanded passing behind towards the passenger’s side.

Taking a deep calming breath, she got into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat and mirrors, as he slid into the back seat. So now she was to be his chauffeur? This man was insufferable. She was about to tell him what she thought of him, when a small grunt of pain escaped his mouth. Glancing back, she observed him extending his bad leg across the backseat. She had not considered what a day of traveling, in this cold weather must be doing to it.

“So…Ms. French” she heard a crinkling of paper. Looking back, she watched him pull a roadmap from his coat. “The clerk said that we need Interstate 84.”

She could not suppress her laughter at such an archaic site. She knew Mr. Gold was old fashioned in his manner of dress and airs, but she did not realize that it bled into his technological advancement. Grabbing the phone from her purse, she pulled up google maps, typing in her father’s address.

“I’ve got this Mr. Gold.” His brows drew in confusion, as the phone chirped out the first direction. Sitting back, he folded up the map.

She made it to the interstate with little affair. Looking down at the screen it noted they were 10 hours away from Storybrooke. 10 hours. 10 hours locked inside a confined space with the infamous Mr. Gold.

The first half hour they drove in complete silence, as she acclimated to driving in the snowy weather. It was only after she seemed to have found her steady rhythm on the wintry road that Mr. Gold informed her, they needed to first drive to Maine’s Bangor airport to return the rental, and switch to his car parked there.

It dawned on her that she needed to call her father and let him know that she was now driving to get back home to him. She felt uncomfortable having to make such a personal call with Mr. Gold so near, but she had no other choice. Swiping the GPS closed, she placed her phone on speaker as she kept her attention on the road. On the second ring her father picked up. She quickly ran down the events of the day, purposely leaving out the details of her driving companion, before promising him she would be home for Christmas. Although he expressed his concern about her driving in the weather, he was excited for her return.

“I can’t tell you what it means to me Bluebell to have you back here for good.”

Stealing a peek through the rearview mirror, she could see Mr. Gold’s eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. With the excuse of needing to focus on the road, she quickly ended the call.

“So, you’re moving back to Storybrooke?”

“I am.”

“So, what brings you back to our fair town?”

“You if you must know.”

“What?” he gasped his bewilderment evident in his tone.

Taking a breath, she kept her eyes forward on the road.

“Since you decided to raise the rent on my father’s shop and apartment, he can no longer afford both, so I’m moving back home, to help make ends meet.”

She waited for some snarky retort but was met with his silence. Letting out a small sigh, she could no longer stand the quiet, as she turned on the radio.

“Turn that damn thing off. It is an insult to my ears.”

Rolling her eyes, she clicked the radio off. Keeping one eye on the road she reached for her purse, pulling out her air buds placing them in her ears. She was debating which audiobook to listen to when his stern voice rung out.

“It is not safe to wear earphones while you are driving. Take those out at once.”

She pulled the buds from her ears. “You know I am not your child, nor your employer. You cannot just bark your orders at me.”

Stuffing the air buds back in her purse, silence filled the car once again leaving her to nothing but her own thoughts. She was trying to recall her mother’s green bean casserole recipe when Mr. Gold’s voice broke her train of thought.

“I didn’t raise your father’s rent.”

Perplexed by his statement it was her turn to respond with silence.

“I don’t know what he told you, but I didn’t raise his rent.”

His words slowly sunk into the depths of her stomach. Mr. Gold was many things, but she never knew him to be a liar, unlike her father. She wondered if his gambling addiction had gotten ahold of him again. Or worse yet, was the lie some elaborate hoax to get her to come back home simply because he was lonely? Either way she knew that he needed her, and as angry as she was at his deception, home was where she needed to be.

Not knowing how to respond she continued driving, wondering what Mr. Gold thought of her and her lying father.

The snow fell heavier as they continued traveling north.

“We…we can change positions at the next town if you like? I can take a shift driving.”

She was surprised at his gentle tone.

“That sounds good,” she smiled softly.

It felt good to stretch her legs as she made her way into the gas station. She let out a small chuckle still picturing the look of distaste on Mr. Gold’s face when she asked if he wanted anything to eat. Waiting in line to purchase her chips and drink, she looked out at him pumping gas. If anyone had told her that she would be spending Christmas Eve’s eve on a road trip with Mr. Gold, she would have thought they were crazy.

After purchasing the snacks, she let out a dauntless squeal as the snow pelted her tiny frame as she ran towards the car. Her instinct was to head for the passenger front door, but she shot into the back seat figuring he would be more comfortable with her from a distance.

He was a much more cautious driver than she, constantly checking his mirrors, and driving primarily in the right lane far below the posted speed limit. At this rate, it would take far longer to get back home. Letting out a bored sigh, she chomped down on a chip.

“So why were you in Pennsylvania Mr. Gold?” she asked before taking a small swig of water.

“Business,” he replied.

“What kind of business?” she pressed nosily, eating another chip.

“The kind that’s none of yours Dearie.”

Shrugging at the quick dismissal, she continued eating.

“How can you eat such trash?” he asked his judgment evident in his tone.

“Well, we all can’t dine on first class food now can we Mr. Gold?” she snarked back, purposefully taking a loud crunchy bite.

“So, what are you plans for Christmas Mr. Gold?”

She was genuinely curious why a man who had no family or friends that she knew of, was willing to bribe a rental car worker to get home for Christmas.

“I have business to attend to.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Business on Christmas? But isn’t your shop closed that day. What business could you possibly have on Christmas day?”

He shrugged. “Debts to collect.”

Her mouth fell open. Was he really going to go around on Christmas and collect money from those obviously less fortunate than he?

“Scrooge,” she muttered crossing her arms. “How did I ever have a crush on you?”

The moment the words fell from her mouth her heart stopped. Did she just say that aloud?

“What did you just say?” he asked his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Nothing, forget it,” she replied mortified.

“Crush,” he scoffed shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “Oh, please dearie.”

A prick of hurt nicked her heart at his arrogant response.

“Oh please…what?” she asked defensively.

He gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “Young girl with daddy issues. Rich older man. Let me guess you use to dream that I would swoop in and wipe out your father’s debts and shower you with jewelry and clothes, and everything your poor little daddy could not buy you. Does that sound about right?”

Her entire body quaked with a rage that erupted from the pit of her soul.

“How dare you!” she spat out in a half cry half scream. She tried to stop the tears as they fell from her eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of her sweater. “You can go to hell.”

He did not say a word, as she laid her forehead against the window looking out at the untouched fields of snow. Neither spoke a word for the next hour. The sun was setting, and glancing down at her phone, she saw they had another 4 hours to go. Her stomach grumbled loudly protesting that she had only eaten a single bag of chips that day.

“You need to eat,” he spoke softly.

Although she was still furious with him, she was also hungry, deciding to table the argument for now.

“Yes, I think we both need to,” she replied gently.

15 minutes later they came upon a small town that reminded her a lot like Storybrooke. The only place open in this weather was a Chinese restaurant. They exited the car in silence, and took a booth near the back, to get away from the chill of the front door. She was surprised when he sat across from her, half expecting him to sit by himself at a separate table. After both ordering he finally broke the awkward silence.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

His apology caught her off guard for she had never known him to apologize to anyone. “I’m not some gold digger,” she muttered.

“No. No you are not,” he declared. “And what I said to you was appalling. But please understand that I meant it more of an insult towards myself, than you. I mean look at your Ms. French. When you said you had a crush on me, the only thing I thought was why would a young intelligent beautiful woman ever like someone like me? The only thing I really have to offer is money, and well…” She could see he was stumbling to find the words. “All I can do is ask for your forgiveness.”

There was a somber vulnerability in his eyes. She found herself feeling sorry for him that the only redeeming quality he saw in himself was his wealth.

“You’re forgiven Mr. Gold.”

It was freeing to let go of the anger that had festered for the last few hours. She felt lighter, more relaxed, and in turn so did he. She was speaking to him about taking the position of assistant librarian at the Storybrooke library when his phone rung.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flip phone, and she no longer wondered how he had been so oblivious to a GPS app. He answered with a clipped, “This is Gold.”

The restaurant was empty, the snowy weather keeping the inhabitants of the small town locked away warm in their houses, which allowed her to clearly overhear the male voice on the other end of the line, and dogs barking? Gold turned towards the window his voice lowering

“Yes. I got held up, but I will be there Christmas day.” He paused. “No really, it’s fine. You do not need to come in, spend Christmas with Mary Margaret and the baby.”

Mary Margaret? She knew she recognized that voice. It was Mary’s husband David Nolan, manager of the animal shelter. She feigned interest at the dessert menu, while he finished the conversation.

Once done, he slid the phone back into his suit pocket, sitting back half abashed as she smiled knowingly at him.

“Who was that Mr. Gold?”

“Just a bit of business Ms. French,” he replied sternly, his tone clearly a wall to her inquisitiveness. Smiling she reached for her glass of tea, taking a small gulp, before gently putting it back down.

“So how long have you been helping David out at the animal shelter Mr. Gold?”

His eyes narrowed, but as they continued to linger on her a half smile crept on his face.

“It appears I have been found out.”

Sitting back, Mr. Gold went into detail about his adversarial business relationship with the town Mayor for her refusal to increase the animal shelter’s funding. “Less funding means less staff, and well animals still need to eat and be taken care of on holidays. And since the shelter does not have the money to pay someone, I volunteer.”

“You go in every holiday?” she asked incredulously.

“Aye. David’s got a family, and well…” he trailed off sorrowfully. “There are worse things then spending a Christmas with a room full of dogs.”

Reaching out she placed her hand on top of his. He was startled by the touch, but made no move to pull away

“You know you’re nothing like they say you are, and I’m glad.”

He gave her a lopsided smile.

“David is sworn to secrecy about this. How would that look for my reputation? The fearsome proprietor playing with puppies? So now you know, what am I going to do with you?” he asked his eyes boring into hers.

A heat swirled in her belly, as her thoughts immediately went dirty thinking of all the ways he could punish her for telling his secret. Squirming in her seat she took another sip of iced tea trying to cool her heated flesh.

“Well, I propose a deal Mr. Gold,” she countered raising her eyebrows.

Folding his fingers, he leaned forward. “I’m all ears Ms. French,” he purred his accent sending a jolt of electricity down her spine. She had never been the type of woman who flirted easily, but no other man had brought out such a carnal desire within her.

“Well…” her words were caught off, as the server approached.

“I hate to cut your dinner short, but I just got a call from my husband, and the county just implemented the snow control order.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Belle questioned.

“State roads are closed for now, until they can get the snow plows out to clear them. I would not plan to go anywhere till morning.”

Her heart dropped at the news. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and they still had a good four hours of driving left. The waitress informed them that there were vacancies at the Village Inn next door.

Resigned to the will of the weather, they both agreed to stay there for the night, and leave early the next morning.

The two of them made their way over to the motel, having retrieved their luggage from the car. The warm lobby was a welcoming retreat from the frigid air.

The clerk came out of the backroom his eyes roaming over her body.

“Can I help you love?” he purred completely ignoring Mr. Gold standing next to her.

“We need two rooms,” Mr. Gold barked, commanding his attention.

“Two rooms?” the clerk repeated, his eyes giving her a once over yet again. Taking a protective step forward Mr. Gold blocked the clerk’s view, as he filled out the paperwork.

“Here we are,” the clerk slid the first key to Mr. Gold. “115 for you sir, and..” his hand reached around Mr. Gold to give her the second key. “117 for you little lady.”

As she took the key from him, he gave her a small wink, her stomach curling in disgust at the gesture. The wind howled as they quickly made their way outside, heading down to their rooms.

Stopping for a moment outside the door, Mr. Gold looked at her.

“We can leave first thing in the morning.” He pulled the collar up on his coat trying to block the cold. “Say 7:30? They should have the roads plowed by then.” Giving a quick nod she bid him good night as she entered her room. Her body was frozen, but it was nothing a hot shower could not fix.

She had not realized just how tired she was, until she was lying in bed an hour later, struggling to keep her eyes open as she read her book. It was weird to think that Mr. Gold was just on the other side of the wall. She wondered what he slept in, silk pajamas, boxers, nothing at all. Her cheeks blushed at the thought. She hoped his leg was doing alright. She could not imagine what the cold weather was doing to it.

With a final text to her father letting him know that she was again delayed and would be arriving tomorrow afternoon, she plugged her phone into the charger, and closed her eyes.

The harsh knock on the door startled her awake. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 10:37. “Mr. Gold,” she whispered to herself, darting out of the bed. Was something wrong? With little thought she undid the chain on the door flinging it open. Her stomach dropped as the front desk clerk stood before her, a seedy smile on his lips.

"Hello there beautiful. I was wondering if I could interest you in a nightcap?" He lifted a bottle of whiskey, with two plastic cups. Her primal instinct was to slam the door in his face, but she went with a more tempered “no thank you."

She went to the close the door, but his foot blocked it.

"Come now love, it’s cold out here. Just one drink to warm us up."

Suddenly his body jerked back, as the door slammed closed with his foot no longer there to block it. She stood there stunned, her mind trying to process what just occurred, when she heard scuffling outside the door. Quickly moving to the window, she pulled the curtain back in time to see the clerk pinned against her door by no other than Mr. Gold. Scurrying back, she flung open the door, as both men tumbled forward to the ground.

“Mr. Gold,” she cried out, bending over trying to pull him off the other man. With snarled lips he looked her way. “Please Mr. Gold, I’m okay, let him go,” she pleaded more concerned for his safety then the clerk. He looked back down at the man, then at her, his resolve softening. He released his hold on the man’s neck, who wasted no time scrambling to his feet.

“Sorry s.s.s.sir,” the clerk sputtered out beelining for the door. “I was...j…j. Just seeing if your daughter needed anything. Have a good night, “and with that he was gone. Hastily she locked the door before returning her attention to Mr. Gold on the floor.

His chest was heaving as his eyes searched her own. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Are you?” She knelt beside him, worryingly looking him over. She did not see any apparent injuries.

“I could not help but overhear, and well…when he would not leave. I just…. reacted.” He looked down suddenly seeming embarrassed by his actions.

“I’m glad you did,” she spoke softly, lifting his chin with her finger, hoping her eyes could convey how grateful she was. “How is your leg?”

“Fine,” he replied staggering to stand without assistance. “I should get back to my room.” Once righted, he hobbled toward the door, before stopping.

“I think I may have a problem here. I was so quick to react, that I may have just locked myself out of my room.”

With both insisting the other not interact with the clerk again, he had reluctantly agreed to her proposed solution of staying the night in her room. Although she should have felt uncomfortable having him sleep in the other double bed, she didn’t. With the lights off, they laid in silence.

“Ms. French?”

She smiled at the formality.

“You know you can call me Belle.”

After a beat he spoke again.

“Belle?”

“Yes,” she replied turning on her side seeing the outline of his body looking back at her.

“Did you really have a crush on me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked incredulously.

In the cover of darkness, it was easy to bare her soul.

“I never really fit in with the rest of the high school crowd. While everyone was at a football game, or partying I preferred the library. I could easily block out the rest of the world, lost in the pages of some adventure. Well, that is…” she paused a moment gathering the last bit of courage, “until you showed up.”

“Me?”

“You would come in researching some new antique you had acquired. It was fascinating to watch. You were always so thorough, so focused on whatever reference books or papers you had requested. And then I would see you sitting alone at Granny’s the next day, no one daring to sit within ten feet of you. I so badly wanted to sit down next to you and discover what mysteries your research had uncovered.”

She let out a small chuckle. “And you being the most handsome man I had ever seen certainly didn’t help matters in the crush department.”

“Miss French?”

“Belle,” she chided.

“Belle,” he breathed, her name on his lips bringing a shiver to her body. “I’m truly sorry for what I said to you today.”

“I know you are. And you already apologized for it, so there’s nothing more to discuss.”

She could hear his breathing getting heavier. “You asked me what business I had in Pennsylvania.”

She nodded unsure if he could it in the darkness.

“It was… family business. I went to see my son.”

Surprised by the revelation, she sat up. Leaning against the headboard she brought her legs up to her chest, hugging them as Mr. Gold spoke of a history, she was sure only a few knew. It was captivating to get a glimpse underneath the mask of the town monster.

He spoke of an old flame, Milah, who had become pregnant when they were only nineteen. Although terrified, he was ready to marry her, until she informed him the child, she was carrying was not his.

“I hadn’t heard from her in 15 years, when one day she showed up on my doorstep proclaiming that the child was in fact mine.” His voice broke. “You must understand, I had just received a huge settlement from a drunk driving incident that permanently damaged my leg. I thought she was lying, that her and her husband Killian were just trying to cash in on my misery. But when the paternity test did in fact prove that I was his father all she wanted from me was the money. I wanted to get to know him, know my son, but she filled his head with such lies, that he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Her heart broke for him.

“I tried to make it up to him, the only way I knew how. I sent gifts, money, paid for his schooling, but he still rejected any type of relationship with me.”

He let out a heartbreaking sigh. “I missed so much of his life. But a few years ago, he met a young woman, Emma, and she encouraged him to try and mend his relationship with me. It is still hard for him, but little by little he lets me in. This was the first time he allowed me to come to his home to visit. I was hoping to spend Christmas there, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.”

As a sob erupted from his throat, and she immediately went to him, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame.

“I am such a terrible father.”

“No,” she cooed whispering in his ear, as he sobbed in her arms. Bringing her hand up, she cupped his cheek. “You are not a terrible father. What Milah did to you, to both of you, was wrong. But it will get better with time.”

“I’m a difficult man to love,” he mumbled bitterly.

For a moment she was tempted to kiss his lips, to pour all the tenderness and love she could into his broken soul, but she knew she needed to move slowly, cautiously if she had any chance to convince him of his worth. Her lips planted a feathery soft kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, his brown puppy dog eyes looked upon her with a fondness that melted her heart. “I think you could be an easy man to love, Mr. Gold.”

“Rumford. Please call me Rumford.”

A sensual tension lingered in the air as they stared at each other. He was vulnerable, his eyes raw with the burdens of his past and even though she wanted him she moved back to her own bed. She was worried that after such an emotional exchange sleep would not come easy for either of them, but once again Rumford had surprised her by falling asleep well before she.

She awoke the next morning to nearby voices. Feeling a twinge of cold, she opened her eyes, to find Rumford standing in the open doorway talking to someone out of view. It did not take long for her to decipher it was the housekeeper, who agreed to let him back into his room. Thirty minutes later, she met him by the car, as he scraped the nightly snowfall from the windshield, before setting out on their way.

The new day brought a new beginning for the two of them, as she sat in the front seat next to him.

He informed her that he spoke to the motel manager that morning, and their little visitor from last night would be spending his Christmas in the unemployment line. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt for a man to lose his job right before the holiday, but then reminded herself that every woman had the right to feel safe when staying at a motel. It was apparent the road crews worked all night, as the roads were cleared for their journey.

They stopped at a Starbucks drive-thru, he getting a black coffee, and her a honey citrus mint tea. While the tea warmed her body, his genuine laughter warmed her heart, as she implored him to stop at the Dunkin donuts so he could try a munchkin.

“Not so bad is it Rumford?” she teased popping another donut hole in her mouth.

“I concede,” he smiled his hand reaching in the bag for another. “They are quite delicious.”

With Christmas carols playing on the radio, she sang along to I will be home for Christmas while he quietly hummed the tune. It was a perfect Christmas Eve car ride. A few hours later, they followed the rental return signs as they neared Bangor Maine airport. One quick shuttle car later, she was standing in front of Rumford’s 1990 Cadillac Brougham.

Getting in she ran her fingers along the velour door. The atmosphere felt more elegant than the rental. This was his car. His world, that many saw at a distance but few ever entered. Looking over her shoulder, she noted the large back seat, her cheeks blushing at the impure thought that intruded her mind.

She watched as he climbed in, turning to her with a soft smile. How long had it been since anyone sat next to him in his own car?

Driving along she felt the burning desire to hold his hand. Closing her eyes, it was easy to imagine them driving home from a date, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her leg. Her phone rung pulling her from the beautiful daydream. Seeing it was her father, she picked up excitedly informing him she was only 40 minutes from town.

“I’ve been thinking Bluebelle that maybe you should return the car at the airport, and I can pick you up there. There is no need to pay for extra days when it will just sit outside the shop.””

There was no point avoiding this discussion any longer, she thought to herself, informing him that the rental car had already been returned and she was traveling back to town with Mr. Gold. Holding the phone away from her ear, her father’s boisterous cursed laced tirade filled the air. Glancing over at Rumford’s bleak face she tried giving him a reassuring smile, but he kept his attention on the road.

Affirming for the third time that she was truly alright, her father eventually agreed to end the call.

“Well, that was interesting,” she said jokingly trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood. The reality of…their reality started seeping in as they moved closer to Storybrooke.

Judging by her father’s reaction, she knew that it would not be easy for them to continue the friendship they had forged over the last few days. Would he go back to the rigid town monster, and she the introvert watching him from afar?

Pulling up to her father’s apartment, the car came to a stop. She made no move to get out, instead turning to take his hand.

“Rumford I…”

“Hold that thought,” he interrupted as her father came bustling out of the door heading straight for her. She had never seen her father move so quickly as he flung open her car door, dragging her from the seat.

“Hello, my girl!” he boasted engulfing her in tight a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Of course, I’m safe, Papa.”

Wrapping his arm around her protectively, they rounded the car, her father, pounding the trunk with his fist. Mr. Gold clearly received the message as the trunk clicked ajar and her father took out her small suitcase.

“Now come inside girl, I have a ham cooking,” he said ushering her towards the door. Everything was happening so quickly, and as she tried to turn her attention back to Rumford, her father stepped in front of her.

“Wait Papa, I need to talk to him,” she pleaded, as her father turned staring daggers at the car.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold, for the ride. I assume your bill for transporting my daughter will be added to next month’s rent.”

“Papa,” Belle yelped horrified at her father’s rude behavior. Her heart sunk as Mr. Gold gave a stern nod before driving off.

The moment he drove off she felt a pang of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She tried to enjoy Christmas Eve with her father, but her thoughts kept straying to Rumford. Laying in her childhood bed that night she contemplated what her life would be like now that she was back home. It was odd to have taken such a huge leap forward in life by graduating, only to stumble back into her old life. If she was to be truly happy here in Storybrooke, she knew what she needed to do.

Christmas morning arrived, along with the smells of fresh eggs and bacon. After a hearty breakfast, her father surprised her with a pair of earrings, calling them a graduation/Christmas present. After watching A Muppet Christmas Carol, she let her father know she was heading out to visit friends.

Bundling up, she walked the few blocks to the Storbrooke animal shelter. Her heart raced as her eyes fell upon the Cadillac parked out front. An orchestra of barking rung out as she knocked on the front glass door. A few moments later, she saw Rumford hobble into the hallway, his pace quickening as he laid his eyes upon her.

“Belle?” he questioned, opening the door, and ushering her into the lobby, locking the door behind them. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”

“Yes.” she paused for a moment, “and no.” His brows drew in concern. “I’m sorry for how we parted yesterday…my father acted rudely.”

“I do not blame him. No one wants their child around a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” she whispered taking a step towards him.

She would not let him retreat back into a shell of self-loathing. She needed to be brave for the both of them.

“Merry Christmas Rum,” she whispered, her lips finding his.

The kiss was gentle at first, but as he opened his mouth for her, the heat rose in her cheeks as her tongue touched his. Far too soon the kiss ended as he slowly pulled his lips away. Leaning down, he placed his forehead on hers.

“A Merry Christmas indeed, Belle.” X

With a bored yawn, Graham shut off the old black and white television. Checking his watch, it was half past midnight, plenty of time for the New Year’s festivities to be coming to an end. Wrapping his scarf around his neck, he headed out the door for his holiday patrol. New Year’s Eve was usually a quiet affair in Storybrooke, as he looked up and down the snowy streets. The small upper crust of society attended the mayor’s party at her mansion miles away while the not so rich found their holiday spirit at the Rabbit Hole.

With snow crushing under his boots he headed towards the town center. It was peaceful as he passed by the closed businesses. Nothing seemed amiss, until he saw Mr. Gold’s Cadillac parked down the alley rocking side to side in a slow steady rhythm.

Letting out a sigh, he reached for his flashlight. He knew alcohol caused people to do crazy things, but for two people to sneak into Mr. Gold’s car for a drunken New Year’s tryst, well that was just downright dangerous.

With a loud cough, he walked up to the car, banging his flashlight on the back window.

“Alright kids the fun is over for tonight.”

As the two tangled half clothed bodies stilled, Graham froze as a disheveled looking Mr. Gold rose from the backseat, followed by a woman, who looked to be the florist’s daughter, Ms. French.

“I’m s.s…sorry Mr. Gold, I had no idea it was you,” he stuttered stumbling back away from the car. Shaking his head in disbelief, he heard the two lovers giggle as he hightailed it back to the main road.

‘This is going to be a strange year,” he thought to himself, as he heard the car rocking again behind him.

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Top 5 Reasons for Using Florence Crane Rentals for Your Construction Project

Access to tools is the main factor that delineates the completion of the works in an efficient, safe, and cheap manner from the completion of the works in an inefficient, unsafe, and expensive manner. One such tool and its mode of operation is a crane, which is an indispensable tool in any major construction work. Florence crane rentals, for they can assist in any heavy lifting operations, be it erecting a skyscraper, building a bridge, or any other such project. In this article, we examine the reason why construction projects may require crane rental services.

1. Cost-Effective and Budget-Friendly Option 

Not only is renting a crane for your construction project very cost-effective but, in the long run, financially sensible as well. There is a considerable expense that comes with the purchase and maintenance of cranes for construction works, more so when they are not used between projects. The Florence crane rentals option, on the other hand, saves one the expensive initial purchase of a crane, and even better, you only pay for the crane when you need it. Furthermore, there is generally maintenance and repair offered on the crane that is hired, and therefore, the total cost of owning the crane is lowered. In addition,  you are only charged when the equipment is on-site for use, as is the case even with crane rentals in Killeen, TX, dealing with other building materials such as compaction sand, making this cost-effective.

2. Access to the Latest Equipment and Technology

The construction industry is constantly changing with more innovative crane models offering what is latest in respect of safety aspects, technology, and capabilities. Through renting a crane, you will come to realize improvement in the safety and efficiency of your project since the modern equipment availed will bear advanced technology features such as load monitoring systems and also remote controls and fuel-efficient engines. Access to modern, well-maintained equipment means your construction project in Killeen, TX, will be much smoother and efficient.

3. Flexibility and Project-Specific Solutions

Construction projects all vary, and your needs for equipment will certainly differ as the size and scope of the work may be more involved. Florence crane rentals allow you to choose the perfect type and size of crane for your specific project. Whether you require a smaller crane for small, tight spaces or a bigger crane for heavy-duty lifting with large-scale projects, rental services can provide the equipment needed. You can easily switch to a different crane or other related equipment, such as construction building equipment in Killeen, TX if the project expands or changes without any obligation toward long-term commitments.

4. No Concern of Maintenance and Storage

Having a crane involves usual maintenance and storage. Such a piece of equipment becomes old and requires costly and time-consuming servicing, inspection, and repair. You can, therefore, have all that worry rest when you rent a crane. Organizations offering crane rentals in Florence handle all their regular maintenance and inspections to ensure the equipment is in its prime working condition. Furthermore, storing a crane when it is not in use may become challenging, especially if you lack sufficient space. The good news is that renting eliminates the need for storage, saving you time as well as money in the long run.

5. Professional Support and Assistance

Another significant advantage of crane rental is access to professional support and assistance. Reliable rental services usually offer professional operators or the know-how for operating the equipment correctly and safely. If your team lacks the experience to operate a crane, you can hire a well-trained crane operator and be sure to have your operations done safely. The support offered by Florence Crane Rentals ensures that you are able to complete your construction work without having to bother with the technicalities of operating or maintaining the crane. Whether you face compaction sand in Killeen, TX, or other materials, expert support helps you keep your eye on the big picture and ensure that your project is completed.

Conclusion

Florence crane rentals give several benefits that will help manage your construction project efficiently. It saves you money, thereby easy access to the new sophisticated equipment, thus the flexibility to avoid responsibility for maintenance, and finally, it gives you expert support. Whether you're working with compaction sand in Killeen, TX, or other base materials, crane rentals are a smart and efficient choice that allows you to complete your project with ease and confidence. For more details about crane rentals and other construction services, visit Lampasas Trucking & Redi-Mix today!

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New Age CraneS Rental Company in Sydney & Brisbane

At New Age Cranes Rental Company one of the best crane rental companies in Sydney, our mission is to empower you to conquer any spatial constraints that may impede your project's progress. Specialising in mini crawler cranes we offer bespoke lifting solutions tailored to a diverse array of industries including glazing, structural steel, machine installation, water treatment, facilities maintenance, and beyond.

Our comprehensive mini crane hire and installation services in Sydney are meticulously crafted to ensure the secure and seamless execution of your project, prioritising safety and efficiency every step of the way.

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Additionally, we specialise in commercial glazing solutions, boasting a highly skilled team that has proudly served some of the biggest names in Australian shop fronts, including Tiffany & Co., Valentino, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, to name a few.

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Booking a Studio for Cinematic Shoots: What Sets It Apart from Regular Studios

When it comes to booking a studio for cinematic shoots, there’s more at play than just renting a space for photography or videography. Cinematic shoots, such as those for short films, music videos, or commercials, require specific studio features, equipment, and setup capabilities that are different from regular photography studios. Understanding these differences can help ensure your shoot goes smoothly and that you achieve the high-quality production values required for cinematic work.

The Unique Requirements of Cinematic Shoots

Cinematic shoots require a level of flexibility and customization that goes beyond what standard photography studios typically offer. In addition to the basic needs of a photo or video shoot—such as lighting, backdrops, and props—a cinematic shoot often involves multiple technical components. These can include advanced lighting rigs, high-definition cameras, large sets, complex staging, and extensive post-production facilities.

When booking a studio rental for cinematic video production, it’s essential to look for a space that can accommodate these specific needs. Cinematic shoots often involve multiple cameras, intricate lighting setups, and extensive crew coordination. This means you’ll need a studio that can support the space, power, and technical equipment necessary for your production.

Specialized Equipment for Cinematic Shoots

One of the biggest differences between a regular photography studio and one designed for cinematic shoots is the equipment available. Cinematic studios are equipped with specialized tools that go beyond the usual lighting and camera gear. For example, studios for film production may have rigs for dollies, cranes, and tracks, which are used to achieve dynamic camera movements. They also offer a variety of lenses, camera support systems (such as gimbals and steadicams), and other filmmaking equipment that allow for smooth and high-quality shots.

When looking for a studio, always check if they offer cinematic studio rental services with professional filmmaking equipment. A studio designed for cinematic work should include equipment like high-definition video cameras, green screens for special effects, and even sound stages that can accommodate larger-scale productions. Studios that cater specifically to cinematic shoots may also provide options for renting additional equipment like professional lighting setups, sound recording equipment, and even makeup and wardrobe rooms for talent.

Studio Space and Set Design for Cinematic Shoots

The physical space of a studio is a crucial consideration when planning a cinematic shoot. Unlike regular photo shoots, where a small backdrop may be sufficient, cinematic shoots typically require much larger sets, with more room for crew, equipment, and action. A good cinematic studio will offer a variety of shooting spaces, such as wide open stages, smaller rooms for close-ups or intimate scenes, and soundproof areas for recording dialogue.

When booking a large studio rental for cinematic shoots, be sure to inquire about the studio’s capacity to accommodate sets of different sizes and complexities. Studios designed for cinematic work often provide high ceilings, which allow for the installation of lights, rigs, and props. Additionally, these spaces are generally designed with the flexibility to support different shooting angles and camera movements that are key to creating dynamic cinematic visuals.

Lighting and Sound in Cinematic Studios

Lighting is another area where cinematic studios differ from standard photo studios. While regular studios may have basic lighting setups to illuminate subjects for still photos or simple videos, a cinematic studio is likely to offer specialized equipment for complex lighting setups that enhance mood, texture, and dynamic shots. Cinematic lighting can include overhead rigs, softboxes, spotlights, and color gels that allow you to create specific atmospheres and visual effects.

Sound is equally important in cinematic shoots. A regular studio may provide minimal sound insulation, but a studio set up for cinematic productions will often have a dedicated sound stage that is fully soundproofed. This is vital for capturing high-quality, clean audio, especially when shooting scenes with dialogue, live music, or sound effects.

When searching for a photography studio rental with advanced lighting options, ensure that the studio has both the equipment and expertise to handle the lighting demands of a cinematic production. Additionally, inquire if the studio offers a dedicated sound stage or noise-free environment that can accommodate professional-grade audio recording.

Post-Production Capabilities

In addition to the physical requirements of a cinematic shoot, post-production capabilities also play a huge role in the type of studio you book. While photography studios may offer basic editing facilities, cinematic studios typically provide a complete post-production suite with editing rooms, green screens, and digital asset management systems. This allows filmmakers to carry out the entire production process in one location, from filming to editing and final color grading.

When considering studio options, look for cinematic studio rental services with post-production facilities. Many of these studios offer in-house editing, sound design, and even visual effects services, ensuring that your shoot-to-post process is seamless. Having access to high-end software, professional editors, and other post-production experts can save you a lot of time and resources.

Scheduling and Crew Support for Cinematic Shoots

Unlike typical photo shoots, which may be completed in a day or less, cinematic projects often require extended timeframes. This means that when booking a studio for a cinematic shoot, it’s important to ensure the studio is available for multiple days and provides the necessary crew support. Cinematic productions often involve not just the talent but also directors, camera operators, sound engineers, lighting technicians, and assistants.

Look for a studio rental with crew support for cinematic shoots that offers additional services like crew hire or recommendations for experienced professionals. A studio that understands the demands of a film shoot will likely have an experienced support team to help with everything from camera setup to set construction.

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Find The Best Shovels in Dubai, UAE

Big Crane is a premier Shovels in Dubai, UAE, specializing in providing top-quality lifting solutions for a variety of construction and industrial projects. With a diverse fleet of state-of-the-art mobile cranes, Big Crane is equipped to handle projects of any scale, from small renovations to large infrastructure developments.

Our team of experienced professionals is dedicated to ensuring safe and efficient operations, prioritizing client satisfaction at every step. We understand the unique demands of the Dubai market and offer flexible rental options tailored to meet specific project requirements.

At Big Crane, we emphasize reliability and punctuality, ensuring that our cranes are always in optimal condition and ready for deployment. Committed to safety and compliance, we adhere to the highest industry standards, giving our clients peace of mind. Choose Big Crane for your mobile crane rental needs and experience exceptional service that drives your projects forward seamlessly.