#so for the past week and change I've been drawing one while I wait | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklingblu · 2 months ago

Text

Pulse

Sohyun X Xinyu

P.S: I'm trying a new style of writing here.

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There's something calm and comforting about the crowded coffeeshop. The hissing of the espresso machine, the bustle of human conversation, the clinking of ceramic cups - they all seem to blend together to create a new yet totally familiar world. That's the reason I've come here. To be swallowed by this background noise and extract myself from reality if just for a moment.

I sit in my usual corner, my elbow against a cup of cappucino which has long since gone cold and a textbook opened but largely ignored. I have read the same line for the last thirty minutes but none of it seems to stick. I'm too distracted by the noise and my own thoughts, adrift in this place.

University is supposed to be a place where you "find yourself" but I seem to have lost my sense of direction as soon as I step my foot here. Everyone around me seems so sure of what they are doing, raised chests and energetic steps. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to keep my head down, pretending like I belong while I don't even know who I am yet.

Outside, the leaves are just starting to turn yellow - the afternoon light casting a lazy red glow on them. It's the start of a new season though I barely feel like anything have changed in this new life I'm settling into. It's just a struggle to fit in from day to day.

I bring my lips to the rim of my cofee cup, grmiacing as the bitter taste washes over me. It doesn't come as a surprise. The only reason people come here is for the atmosphere - to mingle and jingle . The cofee is just a necessity to stay.

I glance at the moving world from my seat near the window. A steady flow of students rush past the platfrom on the otherside, their laughter echoing through the glass. It's as if they know a secret I have yet to understand.

I pull the sleeve of my sweater over my knuckles, retreating into the soft fabric. Nearby, my phone buzzes with a notification from a group chat that I never have been a part of. I don't bother to check and it becomes one of the many sounds that fills the place.

I used to think university would be different - a total contrast to my mundane high school life. That I'd step into the place and everything will click into place. Like the rest of my life have been a prelude to this. But here I am. Already chickening out in the first week.

I chug down the remainder of my cold coffee, shove my books into the bag and was about to leave when a burst of cool air sweeps through the place, followed by the jingle of the bell above the door. And I happen to be one of those people who instictively gawk at the newcomer.

There she is, waltzing into the room like she owns it. The energy of the outside world seems to radiate from her body. There's nothing loud or brash about her but she draws attention anyway - an easy confidence that ripples through the place. She brushes a stray strand of hair our of her face, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

She stands out naturally,moving as if she's utterly home in her skin, in this place. It's the kind of self-insurance that seems totally foregin to me. I can't even imagine what it's like to be in her shoes. Not like I will have a chance. She's everything I'm not.

Her hair is slightly tousel, falling in loose waves that looks almost intentional. She's wearing a plain white shirt, its crispiness a total contrast to her slouch jeans.

She orders a cofee - espresso, no sugar- and while she waits, she cracks a joke at the waiteress, painting her cheeks red. All this time, my eyes linger on her with a strange sort of fascination, watching like she's the only form of enteratinment I have had in a long time. And it's true in a way.

She takes the plastic cup and the change from the waiteress with a smile. She turns and that's when the trouble starts. I have expected her to leave as swiftly as she has come. Someone like her probably have more important businesses than slothing around.

Her eyes dart around the café and it takes me a moment to realize she's looking for a seat. So she's staying. But luck doesn't seem to be on her side today beacaue every single seat has been occupied. Well, except..

"Hey" she says, and it's casual, like we have been friends forever. "Mind if I sit there?"

She's gesturing at the seat across from mine, which I have strategically left empty to create a distance between me and everything else. I hesistate a tad bit too long before I response.

"Sure" I mumble, nodding towards the chair.

She sits, sliding the cup of coffee on the table with a soft thud. I have expected her to pull out a phone or do anything a stranger sharing a table with another stranger would do. But instead, she leans back and scans the room before her eyes come to rest on me.

"I have seen you before" she speaks, offering a slight smile as if she can read my thoughts.

I blink, caught off-guard. No 'hello' s. No 'hi' s. Straight to the point.

"Have you?" I say, sounding awfully stiff.

"Yeah. You have been in the same corner for the last week. You come here a lot?" She sips her coffee, eyes still on me.

I shrug. "Not always. But yeah. It's quiet"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around the packed café. "Quiet?" she repeats, half laughing. "Compared to the dining hall, perhaps"

Just then, I realize how rudiculous I must sound. "Well, not today" I admit, lowering my gaze back to the books. "But usually"

She laughs again, but not mockingly so. "I get where you are coming from. Sometimes, it's good to be alone even though you are not truly alone" She couldn't have worded it better.

"Exactly" I say, nodding slowly.

A brief silent passes between us. She sips from her cup again. If the cappucino here is strong, I can't imagine what espresso would taste like. But she shows no sign of distaste.

"So, what do you study?" she asks, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"Literature" I answer, shifting in my seat. For some reason, talking about my major always make me feel like I'm giving something away. Like I'm exposing myself.

"Ahhh Literature" She repeats the word, as if she's trying to decipher its meaning. "That must be....intense. Lots of complicated story about lots of different stuffs"

I nod, still unsure where she's headed. "I guess so. It's more about trying to understand them through their words. Deep fry your brain sometimes"

She huffs. "I can imagine. That's why I try to understand them through their heads, it's less exhausting that way. I'm in psych"

That makes sense. She has this way of speaking, as if she knows what the other party will say before they even open their mouths. But at the same time, respecting their boundaries.

I'm still trying to think of a valid response when she lifts her cup and stare at the remaining coffee like she's studying it. Then her gaze lifts back to me, eyes bright.

"You know, espresso reminds me of people"

I blink, surprised at the strange comparison. "Espresso? Why?"

She beams, leaning in. "Espresso's small right? Concentrated. If you take a sip, there's this rush - sharp and intense. It hits you so intensely that if you are not prepared, it can be overwhelming"

She takes a sip, as if giving me time to register her words. "But if you take it in bit by bit, the taste changes. The bitterness mellows out and you can feel each layer of richness underneath"

I stare at her, my tired brain struggling to understand what she's implying. Why espresso, out of all things?

She leans back and continues. "People are like that. Emotions, life, they come at you in the most unexpected times - swift, chaotic. Sometimes it can be too much to handle. But if you give it some times, let it breathe, you start to see the little parts that makes it up. That's when you start to discover yourself"

I can't help but smile. "You have thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just obsessed with espresso"

"Not the one here, I hope"

She smiles, instantly getting what I'm implying. It seems she's a regular customer too. "You gotta work with what you have. But you get the point"

"So....people are like espresso? Is that why you study them?" I question as she finishes up the last few drops of her coffee. This girl really likes espresso.

"Exactly" she snaps. I'm not sure if she's joking here. "It has always been my dream to do a thesis on espresso and emotions"

"Are you....?" I drift off and she bursts into laughter.

I feel the slightest hint of joy, like by asking that stupid question, I have contributed to her amusement in some way.

"Serious? No way. I'm not risking my degree for my unhealthy addiction. The last person I explained this to leave the table as soon as I'm done"

"Well, I'm still here"

Does it sound too cheesy?

"I can see that" She glances at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly. "I should get going. I have a class to prepared for"

I nod, feeling that familiar twist that comes with endings. "Right. Of course"

She stands, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "It was nice talking to you" she says, her voice warm. "You can call me Sohyun"

"Xinyu" I reply. It sounds so much easier to say my name now.

"Xinyu" She lets the word roll off her tongue. "I like it"

"Thanks" She's already walking to the door when I response.

With one last glance, she re-enters the reality outside of this comforting bubble. I feel a strange sense of anticipation, like the conversation I just had have dropped some hint to solve this puzzle called life.

Sohyun and Espresso and People.

How peculiar.

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The walk back across the campus was pleasant. The scene that welcomes me when I enter my room is not.

As I enter, I'm greeted by the familiar chaos of Yooyeon's world - clothes draped over the chair, a half eaten bag of snacks spilling out on the desk and music playing softly in the background. The mess have become such an essential part of the space that without it, you doubt you will recognize the room.

Yooyeon looks up from her bed, where she's lounging with her phone. She's dressed causual with a twist as usual - an oversized grey t-shrit with the words "You Shall Not Pass" emblazoned across the front and swetpants of the same color. As soon as she notices me, an infectious grin spreads across her face

"Xinyu! You are back!" She exclaims, eyes bright. "Did you finally make a friend or are you still on a first name basis with the library?"

"Ha ha. Very funny" I retort sarcastically as I shove my bag on the bed. "But yeah. I guess so"

She immediately sits up, her attention solely on me. "Wait, what? For real?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. That's the thing about Yooyeon. It's like she has her own respirator of dopamine. Always on her feet. Not a hint of worry in those blue eyes.

"Her name's Sohyun. We met at the café" I answer, keeping my tone casual. One wrong octave and Yooyeon would immediately detect it.

"Ooooh, a café conversation, huh? Sounds like the opening to a great novel" She laughs, flopping back down to her bed. "What did you two talk about?"

I shrug, though I have anticipated the question. "Just espresso and....people"

Yooyeon grins even wider. "Don't tell me you spill your heart out. Cuz that would be really really-"

"It's nothing like that" I quickly interrupt. "It was just small talk. She's really easy to talk to"

"Easy is good. You need easy" Yooyeon bounces off her bed and start rummaging through her cupboard box of numerous books and posters. It has been a week and she still hasn't bothered to arrange her stuffs.

Not a moment sooner, she pulls out two bright blue mugs. "We should celebrate your burgeoning social life. I have got hot chocolate mix somewhere"

I roll my eyes. "You are impossible"

"Impossibly fun" Yooyeon winks as she pours the hot chocolate mix into the mugs and adds some hot water, the steam curling up. "You are on your way to becoming a social butterfly. Next thing you know, you will be hosting literary salons"

"Sure. After I finish this semester's readings" I reply lightly though the idea terrifies me.

Yooyeon hands me the steaming mug with a triumphant grin. "Here's to new friends and the magic of coffee! If you ever need a social coach to take you on this emotional espresso journey, I'm always available"

I take the mug from her, the warmth of it seeping into my palms. "No thanks"

"Aww come on. I can be the Ron to your Harry. Or the Peeta to your Katniss. Wait, nevermind. That's not a good idea" Yooyeon says, never failing to showcase her obsession with fiction. If Sohyun wants to do a thesis on espresso, Yooyeon would probably make one on Hunger Games. But her dream is closer to being a reality, given how she's in media studies.

"Isn't that the guy....who got like brainwashed or something?" I try to recall the memoies of the movie from time immemorial.

"Yeah. Poor Peeta..." Yooyeon says with a dreamy tone before she brings the mug to her lips.

"Fuck! It's hot" She yelps, immediately recoiling and almost spilling the hot drink.

"Who? Peeta?" I ask.

"No. The hot chocolate. Wait, no. I mean yes. Peeta, not this god awful drink" Yooyeon says while she furiously fans her mouth.

I can't help the chuckle that escape my lips. "I have always liked that Gale guy better"

Yooyeon's eyesbrow knit at my remark. And I already know a debate is headed my way.

"For starters,..."

And so it begins. I participate anyway although I know Yooyeon would win in the end as she always does. I'm not geeky enough for this.

But it doesn't matter. Because she's the only friend I have for now. Debating on fictional man not to be the odd one out doesn't seem so bad of a trade.

Would Sohyun like Gale better than Peeta?

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I'm up early the next morning. The kind of early that makes the world feels like it's still deciding whether or not it should go back to sleep. I look at the bedside clock - 5:55 am. Ha. I beat the alarm today.

Soft gray light shines through a hatch between the curtains, the world outside still enshrouded in the morning mist. All is quiet except for the occasional footsteps and soft snores of Yooyeon , whose face is half buried in the pillow. I smile, knowing she won't be up for at least an hour. The girl's have been up all night finishing an assignment.

I shiver slightly as the cool air grazes my skin when I pull the covers off. The mornings are getting colder, the first hints of autumn sneaking in. And it means I will have a harder time exiting the warm embrace of my sheets.

The chill in the air clings to me as I head towards the common bathroom. The hallways are empty at this time of the day. Not much early risers here. This building, Bradford Hall, is one of the older dorms on the campus. The floors creak with each step I take and the white paint on the wall have faded with age. For no reason, the place indulges a sense of legacy in me. Like I'm a part of something greater. Maybe it's the smell of chamomile that always hangs in the air.

The walk to the bathroom doesn't take long since my room's on the first floor. There's no burden of stairways. It takes five minutes tops for me to clean up - brush my teeth, wash my face and a couple arrangement of my messy hair that will stay the same way after. I still don't understand how some people manage to spend hours in the bathroom. Making yourself presentable shouldn't be that hard.

When I come back to the room, Yooyeon has tossed over, almost draping off the bed and murmuring something that sounds like a spell. She might be visiting middle-earth, Hogwarts and god knows where.

I cross over to my side of the room, the territory determined by an imaginary line Yooyeon have drawn on the first day. The room is barely big enough for two twin beds, a couple desks and a shared closet. My space is plain, simple. Almost empty except for the small lamp and the stack of books. It works fine by me.

Yooyeon's, however, is a total contrast. Her walls are covered with posters of whatever fictional book or movie you cam name. Not to mention the figurines that line her desk. "They give me motivation" Yooyeon has said. In my opinion, I wouldn't want an inch tall Darth Vader monitoring me all night. I bet Yooyeon would consider that 'hot' too.

I rummage through my closet without any initial dress code in mind. There isn't a need to worry. People wouldn't be up yet. There's no one to impress. I decide to go simple pulling on a bright blue sweater over my shirt and pulling on a pair of jeans. I slip on my worn-out sneakers, their familiar creaks greeting me. After a glance in the mirror, I decide to let my loose locks fall freely. I grab my bag and leave, careful not to wake Yooyeon, who's on the brink of falling off the bed.

The campus seems almost unrecognizable at this time of the day - the morning light bathing it in a warm glow that makes everything looks like it belongs to a painting. The air is still, undisturbed by the usual hustle of students. I take a deep breath as I make my way down the brick path.

The clues of autumn are scattered here and there - the air crisp and the leaves tinged with green and yellow like they haven't decided their favorite color yet. To my left, the towering main library roses like a cathedral, fog clinging to its ebony walls. The arched windows reflecting the sun rays.

Further down, the old lecture halls rise up on either sides of the path. They look like relics from the ancient past, a time unbeknownst. The ivy covered walls adding into its timelessness.

They weren't joking about this place being 'old'.

Ahead, the dining hall comes into view, no less younger than its confidants. With the dark wood beams and the high ceiling, it looks almost like a castle. The stone steps leading to the entrance are worn smooth by countless steps and the wooden doors, though thoroughly polished, creaks slightly as I push them open.

Inside, the place is most empty, save for a couple students scattered around. The smell of coffee and pastries fill the air, comforting in a way that makes me want to stay for hours. I grab a tray, throws on a couple of sandwiches and a glass of juice. My morning appetite have never been impressive.

I takes my usual place near one of the stained glass windows, spots of light showering on the table. I love this place. It's quiet and peaceful. Maybe except when Yooyeon's accompanying me.

I'm haflway through a cheese sandwich when the door swing opens.

Sohyun.

She walks in with a group of friends, at least five of them, talking and laughing. Their energy seemingly announcing they belong here.

Sohyun's dressed in almost the same way at our first meeting - a loose white shirt and cargos. And she strides across the hall with the same confidence from that day.

I didn't mean to stare but my eyes follow her, weaving through tables with her friends trailed behind. Like maybe our encounter was an interlude to something more.

I know I should go back to my sandwhich but when the soul craves, the body has to suffice. She turns my way just for a split second and without thinking, I give her a small smile. It's nothing special, really - just a 'Hey. I remember you from yesterday' kind of smile.

But Sohyun's eyes sweep over me as if I'm not even there and soon, she's swept up with her friends again, laughing at something they said.

It stings. Though it has no reason to. It's like a tiny blow that leaves you off-balance but not strong enough to knock you off your feet. Before I even realize it, my lips have pursed into a tight line and I'm already staring down at the unfinished plate of sandwiches. Maybe, yesterday was just a fever dream.

I didn't expect much, really. A nod, a wave, a smile - a sign of acknowledgement. Anything. I tell myself not to care. It's rudiculous to yearn for approval from someone you shared a coffee table with. But I can't help the cold weight settling in my chest.

I glance up at her again. She's still at the counter, taking her sweet time choosing her breakfast. The way she holds herself is so natural, like she belongs anywhere she goes. I envy that about her. I have always been needed to prove to earn a place in society while she just waltz through everything without a care.

Why is it bothering me so much?

Maybe I should be grateful for her brief cameo in my life. Or maybe it would have been better if we never met. Then she will just be another student who comes to eat breakfast. Not Sohyun.

But now, it's infecting me.

I take a sip of my orange juice, focusing on the cold liquid that wash down my throat. It's nothing, I tell myself. It's jst a stupid plea for attention. It doesn't matter. I have always been good at finding meanings in small thing but sometimes, small things are just......small. There's no more meaning to them than what they are.

Maybe that's all this is.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes as she settles down at a table with her friends, her laughter ringing out across the hall again. And for a momet, I almost want to laugh. Not because anything is funny but beacause how easily she moves through the world, through life.

And how easily she has forgotten me.

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Over the next week, autumn have crept in like a quiet exhale. The trees have turned amber and yellow, their leaves falling in slow spiral onto tbe brick paths. The air has become sharp enough to sting my skin when I go out. It's the season of change, like people say. But this year, there's something unsettling about the sudden shift. Like I'm not ready for new beginnings.

Most of my time is spent surrounded by books and notes. Despite the constant pressure, it's nice to finally have a rhythm to life again. The rhythm that my fear of rejection have indulged. I have recovered quick and Sohyun has faded into nothing but another human whose life happen to cross ways with mine.

It's nothing to dwell on.

I sit at my desk, my table lamp casting a faint glow on the pages of 'Jane Eyre'. The word file opened on my laptop is still in the same state as it has been in the last hour - celan and empty. The syllables for the essay due tonight doesn't seem to be manifesting anytime soon.

I tap my fingers idly on the edge of the desk, glancing at the clock. It's nearly midnight now. The campus has gone still save for the ocassional laughter and footsteps of latecomers from the corridor. Peaceful. Quiet. But still not helping me collect my scattered thoughts.

I'm about to give up for the night and go to bed when the door suddenly flies open with a buest of energy and Yooyeon, in all her chaotic glory, stumbles into the room. She's panting, yet she has this wide grin plastered on her face.

I look up from my desk, startled by the sudden enteance. "Hey"

"Hey" she says, plopping down on the bed. "Guess what?"

I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever dramatic new she has to deliver. "What?"

"Yeonjun wants me to meet him at one of those fancy clubs. And he asked me to bring a friend" She grins even wider. "Guess who that friend's gonna be"

I blink. "Not me"

Yooyeons gives me a look, the kind that says she's not giving up until I give in. "Yes, you. Come on, Xinyu. You have been locked up here for so long. You need to get out"

"I've been studying" It's not enitirely a lie but it's not the truth either.

But Yooyeon's having none of it. "Studying, hiding, same difference. You are coming with me. Plus, it will be fun. Who know? Maybe you will even find a cute boy" She winks, then whispers. "Or a girl"

I'm not quick enough to surpress the blush that creeps up my cheek. "Yooyeon!"

"What? Don't tell me you still can't forget Ms. Espresso"

"This has nothing to do with her" To my surprise, my voice comes out shrill. "I'm just-"

"Blah blah blah. More excuses" Yooyeon cuts me off. "Come on, Xinyu. You will be doing me a huge favour. Yeonjun thinks I have no friends"

"You do have friends"

"Yeah. But no one would be available this late. And I'd rather go with you. You are....less dramatic"

Despite myself, I can't help but chuckle. "You mean 'naive' "

She shrugs, throwing a pillow at me. "You know what I mean. I don't need to worry about you throwing up or passing out or sleeping with the wrong guy"

"You just wants a wingwoman who will behave"

"Exactly" Yooyeon snaps. "So, what do you say? We'll go meet Yeonjun, hangs out for a bit. Then, we can come back to your books if you want"

I glance at my laptop, ths text cursor blinking in and out of existence as if reminding me of the marks soon to be lost. It's tempting to stay here but Yooyeon's right. Perhaps, I can take a breather just this once.

I sigh, pushing my chair back. "Fine. But don't expect me to drag your drunk ass back here"

Yooyeon lets out a triumphant squeal, practically bouncing off the bed. "Yes! You won't regret it"

She's already heading to the door when I throw a sweater over my shoulder. Yooyeon's dressed in her usual fit - jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt, the one that says "You shalll not pass".

"Seriously? You are wearing that shirt again?" I ask, eyeing her.

Yooyeon shrinks away in mock offense. "Excuse me? Have some respect for the classics. Everybody loves Gandalf"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Let's go"

As soon as we step out of the building, we are hit by the cool night air. The campus is fast asleep, the street lamps casting long shadows across the brick paths. It feels peaceful, almost serene.

Yooyeon immediately starts chattering about this new Draco-Harry fiction, her hands waving animatedly as she speaks. I listen, half-distracted, my thoughts finding their way back to a topic unexplored for some times - Sohyun.

Maybe that morning in the dinining hall doesn't mean anything. It's jut a moment, and moments pass.

Despite the countless convincements, a part of me still wonders. What if she had smiled back? What if things have happened differently?

"Earth to Xinyu. Helloooooo" Yooyeon's voice break through my thoughts and I realize she has been talking to me this whole time.

"Sorry" I mumble, recomposing myself. "What were you saying?"

"I said, what do you think of Yeonjun?"

"He seems...nice" I answer, though I barely remember the guy.

Yooyeon grins, clearly pleased. "I know, right? He's the sweetest. And he's really into Harry Potter too, so that's a bonus"

I hum in agreement. Yooyeon's world seems so simple - vibrant, full of energy. Meanwhile, mine feels like the polar opposite. I'm always overthinking, second-guessing.

"Hey" Yooyeon nudges me with her elbow. "You are being all broody again. Stop it. We are going to have fun"

"Yeah, okay" I say, offering her a small smile.

I breath in the autumn air, hoping that mayb, I can stop cllinging onto a loose thread.

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The club is a short walk off campus, tucked into a narrow street line with food trucks and cafés that come alive at night. As me and Yooyeon approach, the distant music grows louder, the rhythmic bass reverberating beneath our feet.

A small line of people snaked out of the entrance, marked by a neon sign displaying its name "The Tavern". The building itself is unassuming, with dark brick walls and small windows dimly lit from the inside.

When we step in, the place opens into a large space with low lighting. The bar run along one side while the rest of the room is a dance floor, dotted with tables around the edge. The air is buzzing with music and energy - people pressed close together, shouting whatever on their mind over the DJ's beat. It's an enitrely different world from the quiet, orderly campus.

"There he is!" Yooyeon yells over the music, wavibg wildly at someone near the bar. I follow her gaze and find a guy leaning against the counter, already grinning like a madman. Yeonjun. I recognize him from the first (and the only) time Yooyeon introduced me. He seems to reflect Yooyeon's restless vigour - a match made in heaven (or Hogwarts, whatever).

"Yeonjun. You remember Xinyu, right?" she says, taking her place next to him. He offers me a smile, not too over the top, but friendly enough. "The one who's always drowning in books?"

I give him an awkward wave. "Hey"

"Nice to meet you again" He says, his voice smooth. "Yooyeon's always talking about you"

"Only good things, I hope"

He laughs. "All good. Don't worry"

Yooyeon reaches for Yeonjun's half-finished shot of whiskey on the counter but get stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Eh eh eh. You are ordering your own drink, miss"

Yooyeon pouts at Yeonjun's remark. "You don't even want to share a drink with your girlfriend?"

"You see. The reason it's called a 'shot' is that it's meant to be savoured by a single individual" Yeonjun's voice has gone unsettlingly serious.

"And they say Xinyu's the smart one" Yooyeon says, punching his arm.

"And they say men are the agressors" Yeonjun retorts. "How do you even deal with this witch, Xinyu?"

Before I can think of anything to say, Yooyeon grabs his arm. "Before I cast a casual Crucio on your sorry ass, we should get to the dance floor"

Yeonjun didn't argue with that. The banter is just their way of communicating. "Xinyu, you should come too" he invites.

"Uh.....no. I'm good. You two go ahead"

"Are you sure?" Yooyeon asks, despite knowing nothing can budge me. "It wil be fun, I promise"

I shake my head, smiling. "I will pass. I think I will just....get a drink"

Yooyeon is silent for a moment, then she's off, dragging Yeonjun into the sea of bodies. I watch them disappear, Yooyeon's laughter echoing back, carefree and loud, like she's exactly where she belongs.

Me, though? Not so much. So, I head to the bar,sliding onto one of the stools and order a Coke. There's no need for anything stronger. I can barely tolerate anything that have the slightest bit of alcohol and that's speaking from experience. The bartender barely looks at me as he hands it over, already moving on to his next order.

I take a sip and glance around. The place is packed, bodies moving in rhythm, couples tangled up in each other and some loners who are just swaying, lost in the music. It's loud, chaotic and I feel totally out of place. It's not that I don't want to have fun - I just don't know how to in place like this. Maybe my definition of 'fun' is different from everyone here.

I lean back against the bar and take another sip. The girls here are all glitter and glamour - tight dresses, high heels and bold colors, shimmering under the disco light. Like the night is made for them.

And then there's me in my oversized sweater and faded jeans. My white sneakers seems an imposter to their sleek heels. I have been so eager to get out of my comfort zone for once that I forget to do the necessary preparations.

I search for Yooyeon's familiar face in the crowd, but she's lost in the restless horde, probably twirling around with Yeonjun. I'm happy for her but all I feel is...detached. It's pathetic. I know. I'm too old not to know my constant fear of being the outsider, of being denied.

I'm halfway through my coke when I feel someone slide into the seat next to me, the barstool creaking under the weight. I didn't look up, hoping that it's just another stranger who comes to mind their own business. But then, he clears his throat, loud enugh for me not to ignore.

"Hey" a voice rings out, smooth but with a cocky edge.

I glanced over and there he is - perfect hair, gleaming jacket and a gold chain around hid neck. I might not be the best at socializing but I recognize the type immediately - the kind that's used to getting everything he wants. I can see it from his look, like he spends too much time in front of the mirror. He gives me a lazy smile, the one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come here often?" He ask, leaning a bit too close. His cologne is strong and mixed with the sour stench of his breath, it's impossible not to flinch

"No" I say flatly, taking a sip of my coke.

"That's a shame. You should. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone"

I bristle at that, the compliment feeling more like an insult. "I'm not really into clubs" I reply, my lazy tone desperately showing my lack of interest.

He either doesn't know or care. Instead, he leans closer, his elbow casually resting on the bar next to me. "You just haven't found the right sort of people. I could show you a good time, you know"

I swallow a sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks"

But he only smiles wider, as if my rejection is part of a game he's used to playing. "You sure? Cuz I don't see anyone with you here. How about I buy you another drink? Something better than coke"

"No, really. I'm good" I say, more firmly this time, hoping he will get the message. But the bastard won't take his eyes off me.

"You are playing hard to get, huh?" He tilts his head. "You wouldn't believe how many girls like you I have seen. Acting all tough, only to end up in my bed at the end"

That did the job for me. I straighten up in my seat. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, come one. I'm just-"

"Fuck off, Taeil"

A voice cuts through the tension and I instinctively turn my head toward the source. Sohyun stands a few feet away, arms folded. Her shirt has been tucked into her dark jeans, casual but sharp. Her eyes narrow onto the guy who is now known as Taeil, as if she's used to seeing the scene plays out.

Taeil straighten up, his smile wavering. "Relax. We are just talking"

"No, you are not" Sohyun steps closer, gaze hard and unblinking. "Here's what's gonna happen. You are going to walk away and leave her alone.

Taeil's smirk returns but it's not so sure as before. "And what exactly are you going to do if I don't?"

Sohyun's lips curve into a smile, one colder than any I have seen from her. She pulls out her phone, holding it up for him to see. "Let's see. I don't think your parents will be so happy to see their son acting like a druggie. Plus, it wouldn't be good for either you or your parents if the video end up in the wrong hands"

All the color drain out if Taeil's face, leaving him gaping. "You are blaffing" He protests, though the panic is clear as day in his voice.

"You know I'm not" Sohyun smiles like a predator who has cornered its prey. "So, fuck off"

For a moment, there's silence, the music filling in the temporary gap. Taeil shifts on his feet, his confidence all gone and finally, he lets out a sharp breath. "Fine. Whatever" His eyes flash with fury. "But this isn't over yet"

Sohyun gives him a mock wave, wriggling her fingers as he strides out of the club.

I exhale, realizing I have been holding my breath. I look over at Sohyun, who's still standing there with her phne. A neutral look has returned to her face. Like the Sohyun just a moment ago was a totally different person.

"You ok?" She asks, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

"I - yeah. Thanks" I reply, still a little stunned.

She shrugs, giving me a small smile, genuine this time. "That guy's a creep"

I nod, processing everything that has happend in the last few minutes. Sohyun, the psychologist. Sohyun, the saviour. What isn't she?

She pulls up the stool next to mine, the one Taeil has occupied just a moment ago and settles in. I shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of her presence, of how close she is. The bar light cast little shadows on her face, illluminating the little details on her face I haven't noticed before. The tiny mole on her nose catches the light first, then the one under her left eye. They are so small, barely there but they stand out now that I'm seeing her up close.

"First time here?" She asks. How she knows, I have no idea. Maybe it's my my clothes that give it away.

"Yeah" I admits, a little sheepishly. "It's not really my kind of place"

Sohyun raises an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. "Yeah, I figured. You don't exactly look like you are having the time of your life"

I let out a small laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

She smirks, her eyes flickering over to my outfit. "Just a little"

I glance down, fidgeting with the edge of my sweater, suddenly even more aware of my appearance. "It's not really.....I don't usually go to places like this"

"So, not a party person?" Sohyun's voice is more curious than judegemental.

"Not really" I admit. "I'm more of a...stay-in and read type"

Her smile grows and for a moment, the chaotic sounds of the club faded as if we are alone. "Well, you are here now. So might as well try to enjoy it"

She's so easygoing, so at ease with herself it makes me want to throw caution to the wind too. But then, I remembered that morning in the dining hall and my stomach twists. The memory is still nagging at the back of my mind. I bite my lower lip, debating whether or not I should bring up the subject.

Sohyun takes a sip from my nearly empty can of coke and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. "I saw you the other morning. At the dining hall"

Her eyebrows knit together in curiousity. "Oh?"

"I smiled at you" I say. "But you didn't see me"

Or act like you don't, I thought.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she speaks."Wait, really? Xinyu, I'm sorry. I didn't see you"

I blink. "You didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I swear. If I'd seen you, I would have smiled back. I promise. I guess I was just in my own head then. I'm sorry"

Her words are soft, delicate and sincere. It unravels the knot in my stomach I have pretended to be non-existent. Still, she could be lying but I decide to trust her,realizing how much I care about what she thinks of me.

I galnce away, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. "It's okay" I mumble, sipping from the empty can of coke. "I just thought....maybe I'd misread things"

Sohyun gives me a small, warm smile. "You didn't misread anything. I'm sorry if you feel like that"

She's apologizing too much now it's starting to get uncomfortable. So I dismiss it with a nod.

Sohyun shifts in her seat, her eyes flickering down to my sweater, which have bunched up awkwardly from the way I have been sitting. Before I can fix it myself, she reaches over. Her finges gently tug at the hem of my sweater, smoothing it down without a second thought.

"There" she says, her hand lingering a moment longer more before she pulls it back.

I'm still processing the gesture when almost absentmindedly, she reaches out and brush a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes. Her fingertips skim the side of my face and for a moment, time slows down - just enough for me to notice the way her eyes soften.

"There you go" she says, leaning back. "Now you are perfectly suited for the night life"

We both smile at that and for a heartbeat, I swear I can feel something shift between us. Something I can't quite name. Something that might as well be a misinterpreted signal.

The air settles into a quiet lull, the ghost of her fingers still tingling on my skin. The warmth of the moment hangs awkwardly between us and for a moment, all I can do is sit there, actuely aware of the silent between us.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Do you come here alone too?"

The corner of her mouth quriks up like she finds my question amusing. "Alone?" she repeats. "No. Not really. I'm here with my friends most of the time"

I nod. "So, are they here tonight?"

She glances towards the dance floor. "Yeah. They are somewhere out there" she says with a small laugh. "I kinda slipped away for a bit. Needed a break"

A break. From what, though? The noise? The people? The club?

I hesistate for a second. "Not really your scene either?"

She gives me a sideway glance. "It's fun but...sometimes, I don't know. It can geta little old. Same people, same music"

"Yeah" I agree. "I get that"

She taps her fingers against the bar, thoughtful for a moment. "What about you? Do you come here yourself or did Yooyeon drag you here?"

My eyes widen. "You know Yooyeon?"

Sohyun chuckles softly. "We are friends on instagram. She followed me first, I think? She seems fun"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. She's definitely fun"

Sohyun tilts her head, as if searching for Yooyeon in the crowd. "She told me she's your roommate when I mentioned I see you in one of her stories. She's been hyping you up"

"She -what?" I stare at her, feeling the panic rising in my chest. "Hyping me up?"

Sohyun greans, leaning in just close enough for me to catch a faint scent of her perfume. "Yeah. She says you are a lot cooler than you let on"

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "That's Yooyeon....being Yooyeon"

"Well, she's not wrong" Sohyun adds, her eyes catching mine for a split second before she goes back to staring at the dance floor.

The silence settles in again, like an early intermission. Sohyun's eyes flicker back to me and I try to ignore the way she's watching me like she's considering something. I sip at the can of Coke that has been emptied long since.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" She asks so casually, like it's something she asks anyone alone in a night like this.

"What?" I ask, unsure if I've heard it right over the loud music.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's too loud. And hot. Let's do something fun"

I hesistate, unknowingly squeezing the coke can flat. "Like what?"

Sohyun gives me a small smile, laced with certainity and mischeif. "Trust me. You will like it"

There's something in her voice that disarms me. Perhaps it's because this night has already been so surreal, with Yooyeon dragging me here, the drinks, the noise and then Taeil's annoying persistence. And now, Sohyun, who had seemingly ignored me is suddenly offering to whisk me away. It feels like too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I find myself nodding faster than my brain can catch up. "Okay"

Sohyun stands, sliding a couple bills on the counter before I can protest. She doesn't say anything, just gestures towards the door, and I follow her out of the club.

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The air outside is sharp and cold and for once I'm grateful for my out of place sweater. Sohyun, however, doesn't seem to be fazed. If not, she seems to be enjoying it.

The music fades into the distant as we walk in silence, winding through the quieter streets near the campus. I don't ask where we are going and she doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, we fall into step beside each other, our shoulders brushing ocassionally. My pulse is still racing, though I don't know if it's from the club or from the cold.

Sohyun's pace is unhurried, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and I keep my arms wrapped around myself, pulling my sweater tight. After a while, we reach one of the taller campus buildings, its ivy covered walls bathed in the moonlight. During the day, these buildings always looks heavy, weighted down by unknown legacies. But under the silvery gloom of night, it has all been replaced by a strange sort of calm.

"Come" Sohyun gestures towards the side door as she leads me in. The hallway is dim, lit only by the low, humming lights overhead. She doesn't say a word as she climbs up the stairs, up and up until we reach the top floor. I'm breathless by the time we come to a stop in front of an old, rusted door, with a faded sign that reads Roof Access: Authorized Personnel Only.

Sohyun gives me a quick wink as she pushed open the door with a soft creak. "Not like anyone ever come here" She mutters to herself as she steps out into the night.

I follow her onto the roof, and for a moment, I'm stunned. The sky stretches out above us, a blanket of stars scattered across the black canvas of night. The city lights flicker below and I can still hear the distant sound of traffic but for the most part, it's quiet. Like the rooftop itself is another world within this world. The wind tugs at my sweater and I pull it even tighter around me, bracing against the sudden rush of cold.

Sohyun is already sitting at the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the side, her gaze fixed on the stars. She pats the spot next to her and I sit, careful to keep a distance between us.

I tilt my head up, admiring the stars, feeling the enormity of the night settling down on me. "You come here often?"

"Yeah" Sohyun says, her voice soft. "Whenever I need to think. Or when I just need a breather"

I nod, unsure what to say. This isn't what I expected when she said something fun. But in a way, it's better.

We sit in silent for a moment, the only sounds the wind and the distant hum of the city below. This calm, it's peaceful and stirring at the same time. As if there's a deeper meaning to it that I can't quite grasp.

"It's funny" she says. "Back in the country, I used to lie out in the fields and just....watch the stars. Sometimes, I would stare at them for hours. It never fails to soothe me"

I watch the way her eyes trace the sky as if she's searching for something. To be honest, I have expected someone like her to be from a big city. An image of her anywhere else is unimaginable.

"Must've been nice" I murmur. "Being able to see them so clearly"

She nods. "Yeah. It's not the same here. The city kinda takes over. Light pollution and all"

I can hear the nostalgia in her voice and for a moment, I imagine her as a little girl lying under that wide country sky, her face lit by starlight. There's something tender about it, something that makes me want to reach for a fragment of her from a different time.

After a pause, I point up at the sky. "Well, we've got stars here too. Not as bright, but they are still there"

Sohyun tilts her head, following where I'm pointing and I can't help but smile a little. "Okay, bear with my nerdiness for a second"

She chuckles. "Go for it"

I lift my hand, tracing an invisible line through the air. "That's Orion. See the three stars right there, in a row? That's his belt"

Sohyun squints, trying to follow. "Oh, I think I see it"

"Orion was a hunter" my voice dropping slightly as I tell the story. "A really good one too. Some says he fell in love with the goddess Artemis but her brother, Apollo, wasn't too happy about it so he tricked Artemis into killing Orion" I pause. "She realized her mistake too late and heartbroken, she placed him among the stars so she can always see him"

The story hangs in the air when I finish. I glance at Sohyun, her face bathed in a soft glow. She's quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"That's kind of sad" she says quietly.

"Yeah" I whisper. "It is"

I shift slightly, turning to face her and she does the same. Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world stills. I notice the way her hair flatters with the breeze, the city lights reflected in her eyes and the faint smile tug at her lips.

"You are really something, you know that?" she says, her voice low. "Is this your revenge for my espresso lecture?"

I blink, then smiles, feeling the tension melt away. "Maybe" I say, my voice almost teasing. "But instead of coffee, I use tragic mythological hunters"

Sohyun tilts her head, her smile widening. "Touché. You really know how to open-up someone"

"It's a natural talent" I shrug, although my sarcastic tone gives away the bluff.

"So, this is how you get back at people?" She continues, her voice still teasing. "By making them feel guilty for their ignorance about constellations"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Please, you are not the first person to endure my mythology rants. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't longer"

"And I thought my espresso thesis was bad enough"

It's like we are back in the café except that now, I'm the one doing most of the talking. But we are still the same two people with their own crazy obsessions.

Then in the lightest of gestures, Sohyun reaches out. Her fingers find the sleeve of my sweater, gently tugging at the cuff, as though fixing it, like she did earlier. She looks at me, eyes warm and amused.

"Revenge or not" she says, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I think I like your stories"

I swallow, trying not to lose my footing in the closeness of the moment. "Well" I managed to say, my voice uneven. "Next time, I will make sure to pick a happier story"

Sohyun chuckles, leaning back, although her eyes never leave me. "I will hold you to that"

The air around us suddenly become charged with something unspoken. There's a quiet, almost reverent pause in the conversation as if neither of us wants to break whatever delicate thread is holding this moment together.

Sohyun shifts slightly, inching just the slightest to my side. The stars seem to burn brighter, and I find myself leaning into the silence, into the space between us that feels both heavy and light at the same time.

"Do you ever feel like....." Sohyun starts, her voice quiet, like she's speaking into the night as much as to me. "Like everything around you is waiting for something to happen?"

I blink, her words sinking into the stillness. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickers back to the stars. "Like....right now, for instance" Her eyes meet mine again, and there's something in her expression, like she's trying to find the right words. "It's like we are on the edge of something"

Her words send a shiver through me, not from the cold but the hidden meaning underneath. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but it's one I've been pushing aside ever since we met. The strange pull towards her, a quiet fascination that has grown into something else entirely, something that's so wrong and so right at once.

I glance at her and find myself staring at the mole under her left eye, like I'm seeing her for the first time.

"I know what you mean" I finally say, my voice almost too quiet like I'm afraid to break this fragile peace between us. My hands tighten around the railing and I glance down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's like.....something have changed"

She moves an inch more closer, the space between us nearly non-existent now. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat now. My breath catch in my throat as she leans in, enough to cover the remaining space distancing us.

"You are right" she says softly. "Something has changed"

It's so quiet, her voice almost swallowed by the night. MY gaze flickers to her lips for a second - a brief unintentional moment that I quickly pull back from. But I wasn't quick enough.

Sohyun notices. I can see it in her way her expression shifts. And she knows that I know that she knows. Her hand, resting casually on the railing, moves slightly, her fingers brushing against mine in the lightest of touches. It's barely a graze but it's enough to send electricity tingling through my nerves.

The moment stretches, suspended between us, as if we're waiting for something to happen or maybe just waiting for one of us to make a move. The tension is palpable now, not uncomfortable, but thick, charged with possibility.

I can't tell who moves first, or if we even move at all. It's like an invisible force has suddenly drawn us together. Her face is so close now, I can see the way my breath mingles with hers in the cool night air.

Then slowly - so slowly it feels like the world is holding its breath - Sohyun lifts her hand. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my sweater, smoothing a wrinkle near my shoulder like she did the last two times. But this time, it's different. There's an unspoken intentionality to it that makes my breath quickens.

Her hand lingers, tracing the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. And then, without breaking eye contact, she lifts her other hand, gently tucking a strand of stray hair way from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The tender touch send a warmth through me.

Suddenly, everything feels sharper, more vivid - the sound of the wind, the soft glow of the city lights, the way her fingers linger near my cheek, as if she's waiting for my permission to go further.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, not even sure what I'm trying to say, but needing to say something, anything, to break the tension between us.

But she doesn't move. She just watches me, her eyes searching mine, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks as if it's a secret we only know.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak without stuttering, unable to think of anything but the way her breath feels against my skin.

And then so so slowly, it feels like time has stopped, she leans in.

Her lips brush against mine in the lightest of touches, barely a kiss at all, more like a promise, like she's testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to tell her to stop.

But I don't. I won't.

Because in that moment, everything have ceased to exist - the city, the stars, the quiet night around us. All that's left is the warmth of her lips, the way they press against mine, gentle but certain.

I kiss her back, just as softly, just as tentatively. And for a moment, it feels like my life has reached its epitome.

Sohyun's hand, resting near my cheek, slides down to cup my jaw, her fingers warm against my skin. She tilts her head slightly, pressing her lips more firmly against mine, and I feel a soft sigh escape me before I could stop it.

My hands, awkward at first, find their way to her waist. I hold her there, not too tight, but enough to feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric. She responds by pulling me closer, her fingers slipping into my hair, tugging me gently, deepening the kiss.

Her hands move from my jaw, sliding down my neck, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. My heart is pounding louder than the wind around us, around the city below. The kiss becomes more insistent, more desperate, as if we are trying to say something through it, something words can't describe.

Sohyun's lips parts with mine and for a moment, I think she's finally pulling away. But instead, she moves closer, her breath ghosting against my jawline. A soft shiver runs through me when I feel the first press of her lips against my neck, light and teasing.

Her mouth moves slowly, gently exploring, like she's savoring the taste of my skin. Her lips trail down the side of my neck, and when she presses a firmer kiss jut below my ear, I can't stop the quiet gasp that betrays my lips.

Sohyun hears it. Of course, she does. And I feel her smile against my skin.

"You are so sensitive here, Xinyu" she whipsers before her lips continue their path lower, her hands finding the back of my neck.

When she presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of my neck, her tongue barley flicking against my skin, I feel my whole body tense with the intensity of it. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her even closer, yearning for more.

"Sohyun..." I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice and her response is to kiss me harder, her lips hot against the sensitive skin of my neck.

The world won't stop spinning, I reduced to nothing but the sensation of her mouth, the warmth of her body against mine and the quiet, breathless sounds that fill the space between us. It's overwhelming and yet, I can't imagine it stopping anytime soon.

When it finally does, I can still feel the ghost of her lips lingering on my skin. I feel her breath, close to my neck for a second longer before she pulls back. The cool night air rushes in where her lips had been, but the heat she left behind stays, radiating beneath my skin.

I open my eyes, barely realizing I have closed them and glance at her. Sohyun doesn't say a word. She just leans in, her dark locks scattering as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her gaze is fixed on the stars, unblinking as if she's trying to imprint them to memory.

But then, without looking away, she lets out a quiet breath and says, so softly I almost miss it.

"Fucking Apollo"

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#triples #park sohyun #zhou xinyu #kpop fluff #girl group fluff #kpop fanfic

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ratcash-wasgud · 8 months ago

Note

Hihi! Hope you are having a great day, but I had an idea/request for a modern mizu headcanons or fic? or a mix of both? I've been having a rough week, and dealing with some sh. i know this can be triggering for some, so don't write it if it's too much, but I'd really appreciate maybe a modern mizu x struggling or sh reader? and mizu does what she can to help reader feel better and keep reader safe from harming themselves? i hope this is okay! xoxo

hey lovely! no, no, this is actually so valid. i love this idea.

TW tho, as obvious, self harm and mention of suicide.

I hope you enjoy this one.

"...Hey, you...you okay?" Mizu steps into the bathroom, her face draining of color. She noticed how different you were acting these past weeks;

Randomly going silent during conversations, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, or biting you lips and picking at your skin violently...

But she'd never thought she'd see this. You, the love of her life, the one she'd die if she lost, the only one keeping her sane, standing or...hunching over in front of the bathroom sink, blood trickling and dripping everywhere, and your eyes looking back at her.

She's frozen. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what would be right to do in this situation. Should she comfort you? Do you even want her comfort right now?

But all those questions flee her mind the moment your lips start trembling, your eyes narrow and fill up with tears, your nose scrunching up in a sniffle. "I...I'm sorry."

Mizu doesn't hesitate to basically jump away from the door and rush to hug you, not caring about the blood getting on her clothes. "It's okay...it's okay." She whispers it like a mantra in your ear. "Everything's fine...I'm here, you're here. We're here...i promise everything's fine."

After that, she sat on the bathroom floor with you until you calmed down, stroking your back while whispering the same, calming things in your ear.

When you calmed down, Mizu bandaged up your arms in silence after cleaning them up. She made sure to be gentle, not wanting to touch any cuts directly, but putting enough pressure on them to stop the bleeding. She didn't dare to look into your eyes while she did it, but when she was done, she leaned down to gently kiss the bandages.

She didn't ask anything, as she didn't know what to ask, or if she can even ask anything. She was just...worried. Worried more than anything.

She then silently led you to the bed, cuddled up behind you, and waited for the similar sound of your breathing slowing down as you fell asleep.

She couldn't sleep for a couple hours more tho. She stayed up, eyes closed, face burried into the warmth of your neck from behind.

You're warm. You're still here.

The next morning, she woke up before you, preparing coffee like she always does for you. When you came out to the kitchen, your eyes sleepy and the bandages still tight on your arms, Mizu gathered up all her strength.

"...can you tell me why?" She asks, her voice low and quiet. You looked at her for a couple moments, before sitting down at the kitchen table.

You started talking about your family backround, how school and work combined stress you out, how you don't like looking at yourself in the mirror. Mizu knew she was the one asking, but she hated hearing it, because she felt powerless.

But even if she felt that way, she was determined. She'll somehow make it better for you.

She spent the next day, thinking about ways to help you get more comfortable with yourself.

She started drawing small cats and bugs on your bandages when she changed them, to make you not want to throw up when you see them.

She stole your lipstick to make a kissmark on the mirror, to exactly where your forehead is in height, so everytime you look in the mirror, you get "kissed".

And she came up with this genius idea to bug a huge pack of stickers, and give you one for every day you stay clean.

She knew it wasn't much.

But to you it meant the world.

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #bes x reader #mizu fanfic #fanfiction #sh comfort

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clarisse0o · 4 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 32

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Friday, January 8; 12:45 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room.

I'm packing my suitcase while Alexia watches. The latest news has lifted my spirits. I've got the green light everywhere. Wiegman is allowing me to leave after my clean week. I was on time every day and didn’t snap back at any of my teachers when they provoked me for talking too much. Classes have become dull since we returned, as we're nearing the end, and there's nothing left to do. In two weeks, we'll finally change classes, and to my surprise, I got accepted into my first choice. Lucy couldn't resist filling me in on what went down in the meeting. It seems I barely made it, thanks to the support from Wiegman and my homeroom teacher, who found my efforts more than impressive. I managed to raise my average from six to twelve in just two weeks. That was proof enough for them of my hard work. I can't wait to find out about my new class and schedule now. Alexia, meanwhile, got into sports with her sister and Laia. As for me, I learned that I'll be with Leah, Alessia and Lotte. I'm pretty happy. At least I won't be alone.

- "What are you planning to do this weekend?" Ale asks me.

- "Nothing special. And you?"

- "I don't know yet. I really want to see Jenni, but I'm going to my grandparents' place."

I give her a sad smile. I feel sorry for her that she can't stay. I don't dare tell her that, unlike her, I won't be bored. Lucy is hosting me at her place this weekend. I've never been this excited, even though I try to hide it to avoid drawing attention. I'll finally get to see where my mentor lives. It’s a big deal.

- "Isn't Bronze coming to see you today?"

Oh, screw it. I'm tired of keeping secrets from her.

- "I'm going to her place..." I mumble quickly.

- "What?" she asks, her eyes wide.

- "Sorry... I know I should have told you earlier, but after your last reactions about her, I didn’t dare..." I say, biting my lip.

- "You could have told me! You know I'm not the one to criticize your relationship with Bronze."

- "Whoa, hold on. Our relationship doesn't go beyond friendship... At least, I think so. That's what she said we are..."

She chuckles at my nervousness. I playfully shove her, which makes her laugh even more.

- "You seem awfully nervous for a simple 'friendship,'" she teases.

- "It's Mapi and you who make me feel this way. I feel like we're doing something wrong. I assure you, I'm not interested in her the way you think."

- "Don't take it that way," she smiles. "I wasn't even talking about that kind of relationship. Anyway, I'm happy for you, or rather, for you. She never offered me friendship, so enjoy it."

- "I wanted to ask her about your relationship to see what she had against it, but I haven't had the chance."

- "Oh no, don't do that. The reasons don't matter to me. Besides, since you've been around, I feel like she appreciates me a bit more than before. But still, I've always wondered how you got close to her."

I sigh in resignation. Looks like it's time to explain everything to her. Mapi had already advised me to do so before she left — more like forced me. She argued that Alexia has a right to know if I trust her. I won't get a better opportunity to bring it up. I just hope Lucy never finds out...

- "To be honest, I confide in her about my past. She helps me deal with my demons, and that’s what brought us closer."

- "Oh," she says, surprised. "So she knows more than I do?"

- "She knows even more than Mapi," I chuckle at her expression. "I don’t know... Lucy has this way of making it easier to talk. It's like she understands my situation and has all the answers to my problems."

- "That's good, then. As long as it helps you, that's what's important, but be careful not to get lost in your feelings, because that can happen fast in situations like this."

- "Yeah... I know," I say with a small smile. "Well, I have to go. She's waiting for me outside."

- "Yep," she says, checking her watch. "I have to leave too. By the way, did you tell her about your nights?"

- "No."

- "You promised me you would," she scolds.

- "I know, but nothing's happened since then, so I didn't."

She gives me a stern look, showing her disappointment, as I expected. I can’t help it if she's naive enough to believe me. I've already got Lucy on my case about so many things. I don’t need her on this too.

- "It won’t come back to bite you, I promise."

- "Yeah, right. I wonder who knows her better between the two of us."

- "I'll take responsibility if she finds out. But I really have to go now. She'll scold me for taking too long."

- "Hmm... Have a good weekend," she grumbles.

I hug her and wish her a good weekend in return. Then I leave the room with my suitcase and backpack. Now that I’m out of sight, I smile with excitement. I reach Lucy's car, which she parked in the same spot as last time. I leave school without any regret. She might have refused to let me go back to Miami, but at least she didn’t stop me from leaving school. I told my mom that I’m staying with friends in Seattle using Alexia's phone. I also told Mapi the truth. I wanted at least one person to know what's going on. I’m not sure if Lucy has seen me yet. I assume she has when she opens the trunk from inside. Yet, when I join her up front, I find her on her phone. I give her one of my brightest smiles, expressing my current joy.

- "Hey," I say.

- "You're late," she reprimands, raising an eyebrow.

- "Sorry, Ale held me up."

- "Hmm."

- "Grumpy!"

- "No, that's you," she retorts with a wink.

I laugh as she drives off. She’s not wrong. Between the two of us, I’m the grumpy one. I always voice what’s wrong out loud. She tells me we need to stop by the supermarket to get some groceries first. It reminds me that she lives at school just as much as I do. It's strange doing something so mundane with her. I’m not used to seeing her outside of school. As usual, I watch the scenery go by, humming along to the music playing from the car speakers. After the second song by the same artist, I realize Lana Del Rey is playing.

- "I didn’t know you liked this kind of music."

- "Now you do. You don't?"

- "Oh, I do. I like it, even if I don't listen to it often."

- "I didn’t either at first," she laughs. "I ended up liking it."

I smile as she sings the chorus. It’s the first time I’ve heard her sing, and I enjoy her voice. I turn back to the window. I can’t tell where we are. I imagine she’s heading towards her neighborhood. We arrive at the supermarket she mentioned earlier. She hands me a token to get a cart. This scene is a déjà vu moment from a few months ago. Without complaining this time, I fetch the cart and join her at the store entrance.

- "Anything particular you want for tonight or the rest of the weekend?" she asks as we go down the aisles.

- "Are you planning on cooking every day?" I ask, surprised.

- "There’s more to life than fast food, in case you didn’t know," she laughs.

- "No, my question was more about whether you know how to cook... You’re not planning on poisoning me, are you?"

- "Now that you mention it, that’s a tempting idea."

- "Ha, ha, ha! You’re really sadistic when you want to be."

- "I know," she smiles. "And yes, I can cook."

- "I can’t wait to see your cooking skills then. I might even compare you to Sam."

- "What I didn’t tell you is that you're going to help me."

- "Oh... Well, it’s up to you if you want your kitchen on fire," I joke. "Sam doesn’t trust me enough to let me help."

- "You’ll help, and I promise to make sure you don’t burn anything," she teases, stopping at the butcher's counter. "But seriously, what do you want to eat?"

I glance at the perfectly displayed meat. At least it looks appetizing. I choose chicken cutlets, and she picks up some other things that I don’t pay attention to. We continue down other aisles as she gradually fills the cart while I follow her.

- "You really can’t cook?" she asks, picking up the conversation again.

- "I never had the chance to learn. When we moved to Barcelona, Sam was always there. And in Portugal, I used to bake with my grandmother sometimes, but that’s it. I tried cooking with Mapi once, but it was a disaster. Sam really scolded us that day when he saw the state of his kitchen," I laugh, remembering.

- "You must not be very good," she laughs. "I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few things this weekend if you’re up for it."

Her offer surprises me. No one has ever asked me if I wanted to learn how to cook, not even Sam. I smile and nod. I like the idea. I’ve always wanted to learn deep down.

- "Why not. How did you learn?"

- "I’ve been living alone for several years now, so I picked it up over time. I was like you at first," she admits. "So you’re not a lost cause, I promise," she says, ruffling my hair.

- "Can you tell me more about yourself...?"

- "Why?"

- "I don’t know, I’d like to get to know you... The real you, outside of school. You know a lot about me, so I thought... Maybe it could be mutual now."

- "We’ll see. You might learn a few things about me this weekend."

My eyes light up. It’s the first time she hasn’t flatly refused this request. I was expecting her to brush me off. Our shopping comes to an end. At the checkout, she confirms that we’ll be going out with her friends tomorrow night. She asked me about it yesterday, and I was pretty excited. I’m curious to see what kind of people she hangs out with. Although I was hesitant about not knowing anyone, she reassured me by saying Ingrid and Jenni would be there. Once done, we head back to the car where we load the groceries in the back seat since the trunk is full of our stuff. I bombard her with questions until we arrive at her place, such as, "Are we in your neighborhood now?" and "How long have you lived in Manchester ?" She surprises me by answering everything. I learned that she’s been living here since her college years and moved here with Jenni. I gathered that their friendship and bond go way back and that they’re both from Portugal. Their friendship seems similar to the one I have with Mapi, though theirs probably goes back much further. She told me they were roommates in Jenni’s apartment before she got one of her own after they both started dating. Since then, she’s been living in the apartment she’s in now. This conversation kept us occupied until we arrived in front of a building. From what I can see, it’s a quiet, upscale neighborhood. The building’s exterior is inviting. I thought she would park outside, but she pulls into an underground garage with multiple parking spots and garages. I’m not sure if she has a garage, but she parks in a space.

- "Please tell me... Either you live on the ground floor or have an elevator, because I'm not climbing all those stairs with all our stuff."

- "What? Aren’t you in need of some exercise?" she teases. "Oh, right. You don’t like jogging.

"- "Ah, ah, ah! You told me we’d pick it back up when the weather was better outside!"

- "You pick it back up," she corrects me. "I never stopped. Come on, Miss Lazy, let’s move. We’ve got an elevator waiting."

I don’t hide my relief. I quickly follow her outside to help with our suitcases and the grocery bags. It’s a good thing there’s an elevator with all the stuff we have to carry. I learn as we press the elevator button that she lives on the seventh and second-to-last floor.

- "Thanks again for having me."

- "No problem. I hope you’ll like it."

- "I’m sure I will. It can’t be worse than school."

The elevator dings, and Lucy lets me exit first, pointing to her apartment door. She sets the grocery bag down to unlock the door. Once again, she lets me enter first. I step in hesitantly, taking in her apartment. I’m left speechless just seeing the living room. I didn’t expect something so beautiful and... my style. She gives me a gentle nudge so she can pass by and head toward the kitchen while I explore the space. It’s a large open-concept living area that stretches horizontally. I move towards the kitchen, which is in the back right corner. Everything is new. It’s a true American-style kitchen, just the way I love. It’s separated from the rest by a bar that hides the countertop. There are high stools in front, just like in my kitchen in Miami. A large light-wood dining table sits just in front of the bar, with black chairs that contrast with the brightness of the room. Most of the furniture matches the table’s color. When I look the other way, I notice that all the walls are white except for the left one, which is covered in dark gray brick. It blends harmoniously with the rest. A TV is mounted on that wall, with a large sectional sofa and a small wooden table. The two spaces are clearly defined. I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping, but even if she offers me the couch, I think I wouldn’t mind since it looks so comfortable. It’s probably more comfortable than my small bed at school. I only have one word: Wow. It’s a dream apartment!

- "Do you like my apartment?" she asks with a playful grin.

- "If you ever think about selling it... You’ll think of me, right?"

- "I’m not planning on selling it," she chuckles.

- "In that case, can you take me as a roommate? I promise I’ll be quiet on the couch!"

She laughs, saying she’s glad I like it so much, but unfortunately, she’s not looking for a roommate. I finally take off my jacket and help her unpack the groceries. I’m not much help since I don’t know where most things go, but she shows me where everything belongs. All her cupboards and the fridge were empty, proof that she’s hardly ever home.

- "Why get an apartment on your own when you’re almost never here?"

- "I wasn’t alone at first. I just kept it because I needed a place to go outside of work. Plus, you said it yourself... how could I give up an apartment like this?"

- "True, but still!"

I put away the last item in my hand, then settle on one of the high stools as she offers me a drink from the other side of the bar. I accept when I see her pouring herself something. She places it in front of me before leaning on the counter.

- "Why stay at the camp when you have an apartment like this? Seriously, if I were you, I’d come back every night."

- "It’s mandatory to stay... well," she corrects herself, "I volunteered to stay at first, and it just stuck."

- "But you never do night patrols."

- "Other instructors handle night surveillance."

- "Really? How many are there?"

- "Six. One per floor on both sides."

- "Still, your job really isn’t conducive to a normal life. You can’t even have a family life! Doesn’t that bother you? Well, I guess it wouldn’t if you don’t want a wife and kids."

- "Of course I’d like a relationship and maybe even a family if the person I’m with wanted that."

- "Then why don’t you leave the camp?"

- "I don’t plan on staying there forever. I have plans."

- "Really? You never told me. You’re not going to abandon me in the middle of the year, are you?"

- "No. If I leave, it’ll be at the end of the school year."

I sigh with relief. I can’t imagine finishing the year without her. She smiles at me before downing her drink in one go.

- "Come on. I’ll show you your room."

- "I’m not sleeping on the couch?"

- "Why, do you want to?"

- "It already looks more comfortable than my bed at camp. It’d be fine by me."

- "It is, but I also have a second bedroom. Which do you prefer?" she teases.

- "I think the bedroom will do," I say, making her laugh.

We grab our suitcases, and I follow her to the double doors in the middle of the living room, between the kitchen and the living room. She opens them to reveal a hallway with five doors. She skips the first two and opens the second one on the right.

- "Here’s your room. Mine is right across."

- "Thanks for welcoming me like this. You didn’t have to."

- "No problem," she smiles softly. "Well, I’m going to put my things away. Make yourself at home. The bathroom is there if you need it," she points to the door between the two bedrooms.

I nod, and she disappears into the room opposite mine. We leave our doors open, but I quickly lose sight of her. The room she’s offering me for two days is cozy and modern. I have a large double bed where I’ll likely sleep very well tonight. There’s also a desk and a chair that complete the room, along with two large lamps as decoration. For storage, there’s a large built-in wardrobe near the window with three large sliding doors, one of which is a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I love this type of wardrobe. They don’t take up much space and are very practical. The walls are white, but the dark furniture contrasts again. I put my suitcase down without unpacking. I don’t plan to impose myself by using the wardrobe. I don’t even know if there’s anything inside, and I don’t want to find out. I leave everything in place and go to join Lucy, leaning against her bedroom doorframe. I watch her put her things away in the same wardrobe as the one in my room. Her room is just as large as the other. There are just more personal items, and the desk is replaced by a small couch facing a small TV on a matching stand.

- "Already done?"

- "I just dropped off my suitcase. Your room is cool."

- "Thanks. You can come in, you know," she invites me.

I step timidly into the room and decide to sit on the bed, watching her put her things away.

- "Is yours okay for you?"

- "It’s perfect. Nothing could be worse than the one at camp anyway."

- "True," she chuckles. "And the one at home?"

- "Slightly bigger than this one."

- "You mean twice the size, I imagine."

- "Well... yeah," I laugh. "I can’t help it if my mom has money."

- "Oh, I didn’t say anything."

- "Your apartment would be perfect for me. It’s really nice."

- "Glad you think so. Do you want to go out tonight?"

- "Honestly? I’d rather stay here and do something low-key if you don’t mind."

- "Not at all. I was just suggesting. I’d rather stay in too. You could use some rest. You’ve had dark circles under your eyes lately."

- "Movie night?" I suggest to change the subject.

- "Why not. We could make a pizza to eat in front of the TV. And maybe some popcorn for dessert."

- "I love that plan. You know I adore you, right?"

- "Doesn’t take much, does it?" she laughs.

- "It’s nice to have a normal evening in a normal apartment."

She offers me a sympathetic smile. A comfortable silence falls as she finishes unpacking her things. She lives the life I’d like to have. I sincerely hope to get there someday.

- "Can I take a shower before all that?"

- "Sure, of course. You can go now. The bathroom is next to your room."

- "Okay, thanks."

I go to grab my bath things and pajamas from my suitcase. I step out of the room at the same time as Lucy. She decides to accompany me to show me how her shower works and to make sure I have everything I need. I doubt her instructions are necessary when I see how modern the bathroom is. She has a walk-in shower and even a clawfoot tub right next to it. It makes me feel like her apartment is huge. She has storage under the sink and a column next to it. There are also shelves where her towels are stored. She places a large and a small towel beside the sink for me. The last thing she does before giving me space is show me where the essentials, like the hairdryer, are. I put my things where there’s room, then undress to step into the shower. I close my eyes to enjoy the soothing hot water. I don’t stay too long, remembering I’m not at home. When I get out, I wrap myself in the large towel and do the same with the small one for my hair. I dry off quickly to put on my pajamas, which consist of an oversized T-shirt and shorts. She’s seen me in worse, so I shouldn’t feel self-conscious. Before returning to the living room, I dry my hair a bit more and make sure to tidy up and fold my clothes. I smile when I see her behind the bar, cooking. The environment feels strange, but it’s very pleasant. She smiles immediately when she sees me. I blush when I catch her eyeing me with surprise. She quickly regains her composure. For the first time, I see a hint of embarrassment on her cheeks.

- "Sorry, I didn’t expect you to come out dressed like that."

- "No worries... I thought it wouldn’t be a problem."

- "It’s not," she reassures me.

- "Do you need any help?"

- "No, it’s fine, I’m almost done."

I sit back on the bar stool I used earlier. I watch her sprinkle a handful of grated cheese over the freshly made pizza. I’m a bit disappointed she didn’t wait for me to make it.

- "It looks good."

- "You can tell me what you think when you taste it," she says with a small smile. "Can you keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn while I take a shower?"

- "Yep," I reply as she puts it in the oven. "Can I make myself useful in the meantime? Set the table, for instance?"

-« If you want. You can bring everything over to the small table. »

She points out the cupboards and drawers before disappearing into the hallway. It's funny how easily we manage to coexist. I could easily get used to this. I take advantage of her absence to bring everything over to the small table in the living room, as she instructed. The TV is already on a music channel. I allow myself to sit on the couch and flip through channels to find something interesting. I realize it's been ages since I’ve done something so ordinary. My moment is interrupted when I hear the bathroom door open. Lucy’s return leaves me speechless. I fully understand the effect she had earlier. Unlike me, she’s wearing a tank top that flatters her perfectly, and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun that makes her look very cute. I can't stop staring at her. But she ignores me and checks the pizza in the oven. For the first time, I notice a tattoo on her arm. I didn’t even know she had one. I quickly turn away when she finally glances at me.

- "Caught staring, Batlle."

I blush furiously. I'm glad she can't see me right now. I don’t remember ever seeing her this undressed before. She must have been like this in front of me during my withdrawal, but I don’t recall. It has more of an effect on me than seeing her in her regular clothes instead of her uniform. I jump when her hand touches my shoulder.

- "I’m talking to you, Ona."

- "Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What were you saying?" I ask, mustering the courage to turn around.

- "I was asking if you’ve already picked a movie? Or maybe even a show?"

- "Hmm, I’m not sure," I say, thinking. "Harry Potter?"

- "Harry Potter?" She raises an eyebrow.

- "I’ve seen them all, but never in order. If you don’t want to watch them, I’ll do it alone when I have the time."

- "No, no, that works for me."

- "If you don’t like—"

- "I like the series," she chuckles. "I was just surprised by your choice. »

I smile and nod eagerly. I get up to retrieve it at her direction. When I return to the living room, Lucy has put the pizza on the small table and is sitting on the couch. I smile when I notice she’s serving us.

- "What do you want to drink?"

- "Water, please.

Lucy is already using the remote to find the first Harry Potter movie. This is even better than the evening I imagined. I take a sip of my drink as she starts the movie. I shift to find a more comfortable position. I groan when I realize I forgot to get my plate. Lucy laughs, understanding my dilemma, and brings it over to me.

- "Thank you," I whisper.

- "Go ahead, give it a taste."

She says this before taking her first bite. I had set out utensils, but it seems she doesn’t plan on using them. One thing is for sure: it looks delicious. I don’t waste any time digging in, making sure to keep my plate under my chin to avoid messing up her furniture. I moan in pleasure as the pizza’s flavors hit my taste buds.

- "Oh, damn. This is amazing!"

Lucy laughs at me. This pizza could be compared to one of the seven wonders of the world, and I mean that.

- "How did you manage to hide your culinary talents for so long?"

- "It’s just a pizza, you know," she laughs.

- "Exactly! I can’t imagine what it would be like if you made a proper dish. Sam has made me pizzas before, but they were never as good as this one."

- "We’ll see how yours turns out when you make one for me someday."

- "I already told you I’m a walking disaster. Sam even banned me from using his kitchen when he’s not around."

- "I’m not surprised," she laughs. "You seem close to him."

- "Yeah, he’s become a close friend. He’s really cool. I really should introduce you to all of them sometime."

- "That’ll be hard."

- "Not if we keep in touch after the school year ends..."

- "We’ll see," she smiles.

Our evening continues with various conversations while we enjoy her pizza. The movie serves as background noise. I don’t mind. The first Harry Potter is probably the one I know best from watching it so often. We waited until it ended before putting our plates in the dishwasher and making popcorn. We moved on to the second and then the third movie before deciding we’d had enough for the night. We were both exhausted from our week—especially me—so we decided to head to bed. I was more than happy to crawl into a comfortable, cozy bed where I had no trouble falling asleep.

Saturday, January 9th, 03:20 AM - At Lucy’s place.

I sit up in a panic, realizing that I’m trembling. I look around to remind myself where I am, which only makes me more anxious. I hope I didn’t scream or anything, but I quickly realize my hopes are in vain when the bedroom door flies open to reveal a worried Lucy. I try to hide my shaking, but it’s impossible as it worsens. Lucy quickly understands what’s happening and grabs my cheeks to make me look at her. I see her lips moving, but no words reach my ears. She pulls me into her chest. I resist at first, but eventually, I collapse into her embrace, desperately clinging to her shirt. It takes five minutes or maybe more for her voice to finally reach my ears. My senses slowly return. I bury myself deeper into her when I feel her fingers gently running through my hair.

- "It’s going to be okay. I’m here now."

- "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," I repeat over and over between breaths.

- "It’s nothing, just a nightmare."

Tears stream down my face ever since she arrived. I’m sticky with sweat, but that doesn’t stop Lucy from holding me close.

- "I-I should have... I should have told you... Ale told me to."

- "Shh, calm down. I already know."

- "W-What?"

- "Alexia came to talk to me. I already know. I asked her not to tell you so you’d come to me yourself, so calm down."

She gently rocks me. It’s soothing, but not enough. Especially after what she just revealed. I panic when she tries to pull away from me. It only makes me cling to her tighter.

- "Hey, I’m not going anywhere."

At those words, I allow myself to pull back. Fear flashes in my eyes the second she gets up from my bed. She smiles at me tenderly.

- "Relax, I’m not going far. Do you want to sleep with me?"

I look at her in surprise. I didn’t expect her to ask that.

- "You don’t mind?" I ask, lowering my head. "Isn’t that crossing the line for a student-instructor relationship...?"

- "I suppose we can overlook that detail in this situation, and besides, we’ve moved past that point a long time ago... Come on, go lie down in my bed, I’ll get you some water, okay? I won’t be long."

- "Thank you..."

She helps me out of bed, and we leave the room. I walk straight ahead while she heads to the living room. The little light is on in the room. At least I won’t bump into any walls or furniture. I slip under the covers, choosing the spot near the wall. I think I picked the right spot, feeling the coldness set in. I pull the blanket up to my chin, clutching it tightly to find warmth. Lucy wasn’t lying when she said she’d be back quickly. She brought me a glass of water, just as promised. I sit up to drink it all in one go before handing it back to her. She places it on her nightstand and then lies down beside me. I immediately feel her warmth.

- "I didn’t know which side to take..." I say timidly.

- "You chose well," she reassures me. "Do you feel better?"

I nod, though it’s not entirely true. Her presence is comforting, that’s all. She gives me one last smile before turning off the light. I feel her shifting to get comfortable. Not sure how to react, I lie on my back, staring into the darkness. I jump when her arm drapes over my stomach.

- "Relax, Ona. Turn around."

I do as she says and turn my back to her. I’m not sure if this is the position she wanted, but it’s the one I want to avoid facing her. She doesn’t say anything, simply pressing her chest against my back. Her hand rests on my stomach, gently stroking it. She’s so close that I can feel her breath against my hair. I feel strangely safe. It’s as if my panic attack never happened.

- "Thank you..." I whisper.

She closes the small gap between us in response. Before I fall asleep, I let my hand rest on hers, as if to make sure she won’t leave.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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mewtwoandme · 1 year ago

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So...a bit of a sad announcement today...I'm hoping this isn't the case, I made an appointment for Wednesday to talk to the vet to get a second opinion, but for those of you who know, I own a bearded dragon, and unfortunately the past few weeks he has been showing the signs of possibly passing away soon...He's 8 years old, gonna be 9 around Christmas if he makes it that far, so for him, he's an old lad. I'm afraid the vet is gonna tell me what I don't want to hear, but honestly, I've been preparing myself for this since he started developing issues last year. Despite that, it's still painful to think about. I've been doing what I can for him in the meantime, doing my best to keep him comfortable, though lately, he has become very unresponsive...Because of this, I have no idea where my mental state is gonna be at for a while, cause, honestly, it's now just a waiting game for the inevitable. This has already been taking a heavy toll on my emotional state, and it's been weighing on me and I've been fluctuating from being okay one day to feeling depressed or crying the next...

As far as the blog/story, I'm not sure if any of my plans are gonna change. As of right now, I don't believe they will. If anything, continuing to draw will provide a necessary distraction for me. As far as Blu arriving in December, I still intend for that to happen. However, I did mention awhile back that he'd probably arrive sometime in January if I was late on it for any reason. So don't be surprised by that happening if my bearded dragon happens to pass away between now and December. Cause I'll likely need some time away to mourn properly. No matter if it's a cat, a dog, a bird, or a reptile. Pets are just as much part of your family as your own flesh and blood relatives, and there's nothing more heartbreaking than knowing you're losing a part of your family. To me, it feels like I'm losing my baby. I know I can't compare losing a reptile to losing a human child, but the similar feelings are still very real.

Of course, I'll update you all whenever it happens, and I'll let you know if I choose to take a break during that time

#announcement #mod speaks

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ghost-in-the-hall · 2 months ago

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Equinox (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Hello hello! I wanted to write something quick and fluffy just to kind of get back into the swing of writing, so who better to do that with me than my favorite scrungly guy. I will also say, now that seeing him face to face, I write Falk a little differently, so hopefully you enjoy the slight changes I've made to his character. More of a bigger posting update will be coming soon, thank you for reading!!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

The hallways were abuzz with an unusual rush of energy as you made your way down to the library. You set off to your usual morning tasks: reshelving books, organizing the checkout logs, and doing some light dusting. You stumbled across a group of girls excitedly looking out the windows at the front gates. They call your name when you come into view, one of them jogging over to you, taking your hand, and tugging you in their direction. “I'm surprised you're not down there waiting,” one of them giggles when she notices the confused expression passing over your features, “someone doesn't know what day it is.” She follows up in a sing-song tone.

“What do you mean I don't know what day it is? It's the twenty… first…” Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you state the date out loud.

“Mhm.” She draws out her hum, giving you a playful smirk.

“I, um… excuse me, ladies, there's something I forgot to handle.” You respond with a bashful chuckle before slipping away. “I am such an idiot!” you exclaim to yourself. You jog down the hallway. Hopefully, there weren't too many people down at the front gate. You had been waiting for them… for him to come home for weeks.

The Autumnal Equinox was always a bit hectic around The Abbey. Sabbats always tended to get everyone a little too rowdy, and this time would be no different. You heard shouts from the kitchen and orders to make sure all the chefs had enough prep for the special meal The Abbey prepares for the Siblings every holiday. The Great Hall doors were open, and last-minute decorations were meticulously placed around the room. It seems like everyone is putting in their best effort to make the celebration of the Equinox something special.

However, you couldn't have been less concerned with the party if you tried. There had been only one thought in your head about seeing him again for weeks. The members of the High Clergy had been traveling to spread the word of the church for the past couple of months, which shouldn't have affected you and your role in the library. But, it got awfully lonely while they were away. You had your friends around The Abbey, of course, and the rest of the Siblings that resided here were all kind and wonderful people, but something was still missing.

You managed to get to the gates just in time to see them heading up the long stone driveway to The Abbey’s entrance. You wiped your hands down the front of your habit, your palms growing clammy as your eyes landed on Falk, a smile on his face as he talked with Attila. His gaze turns to you, his long strides gradually slowing to a stop as his eyes meet yours. His grin softens, a fond expression settling over his features as he studies the image of you standing before him. He claps Attila on the shoulder before parting from the other man, adjusting the strap of his bag where it had twisted before starting in your direction. He stops a few steps in front of you, both of you memorizing the image of the other all over again as you both struggle to find the right words to say. You can't help but smile slightly as you study his features. You hadn't realized how much you missed getting to see his face every day until right this moment: warm golden brown eyes that captivated you yet put you entirely at ease, the subtle sharpness of his smile that never failed to make your heart race, the slight shadow of stubble that covered the lower half of his face, you missed all of it. “How are you?” He finally speaks, snapping you from your trance-like state.

“Good,” you suck in a deep breath to steady your pulse, “better now that you're home safely.” Falk breathes out a flustered chuckle at your response.

“Well, I had to make it back to my favorite Mäuschen, didn't I?” His hand comes to rest on the top of your head, gently patting your hair. Your heart pounded as you glanced up at him through your lashes. He removes his hand from your head, his fingers gently combing through your hair to push some loose strands behind your ear. His hand grazes over your skin, coming to rest on your cheek.

“Father Falk?” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the words bubbling up in your throat as you struggled to tear your eyes away from his. “I, um…” The warmth of Falk’s hand leaves your cheek at the sudden shout of his name, a group of Siblings barreling out of The Abbey doors now that someone has alerted them that the High Clergy had returned home.

“You, what, Maus?” he asks in a low tone. The intimacy of how he leaned in to speak to you, to ensure you knew that you had his full attention, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I'm just really happy you're home, Father.” You tried to muster your most convincing smile, but Falk saw through whatever façade you attempted to put on. As the crowd approaches, you attempt to slip off, only for Falk to catch your hand in his.

“You can stay, you know.” He remarks, offering you a patient smile.

“I'm afraid I’d probably just get in the way,” you respond with a weak, slightly defeated chuckle. “If you find yourself with a moment to breathe, you know where to find me.”

“Will I see you tonight?” You glance at him curiously. “For the party?” He finishes.

The party had already begun to slip from your thoughts. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be drowned out by the hoard of Siblings who had finally made their way down to where you were standing. Your hand slipped out of his as you took your chance to disappear into the chaos.

You hurriedly made your way back to the library, pressing your back against the cool wood as you allowed the door to slam shut behind you. You sigh, letting your head thud against the barrier. “I missed you.” You finally allow the confession to tumble from your lips once you find yourself alone.

You slide into the chair at your desk, smiling slightly as you see your handwriting on a tented index card. You pick it up, absentmindedly twirling it between your fingers as you allow your eyes to trace along the delicate gold letters etched into the book cover that sat atop the pile of reserved texts you had set aside by request. “Excuse me.” You scream as you're startled from your thoughts, clapping a hand over your mouth as you turn to look at who had approached the desk. Falk stood before you, his shoulders shaking slightly as he struggled to contain the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

“I'm sorry, Father–”

“No, really, I'm sorry; I thought you would have heard me come in.” He chuckles, gliding forward until he’s standing right in front of you. His forearms come to rest on the desk, his crooked smile making your cheeks grow warm as he casually leans in closer to you. “Surely I'm not that scary looking, hm?” He adds with a playful smirk.

“You're not scary at all, you just surprised me, that's all…” you trail off, fidgeting with the edge of one of the book covers as you pull the stack closer to you. “I happen to think you're rather handsome.”

“Is that so?” His grin widens slightly as his gaze scans over your features. “Well, coming from someone as beautiful as you, I'm flattered.” Your heart slammed against your ribs when you finally registered his compliment. His hand was warm as he took yours, thumb slowly running over the valleys of your knuckles. He breathes out a laugh at the difference between his massive paw as it engulfed your delicate fingers. His attention turns to your face; the subtle intensity behind his eyes keeps you firmly in place. “I don't believe I got your answer before we were interrupted earlier.” His expression softens, gently squeezing your hand when he feels your fingers trembling against his palm. “Will I be seeing you tonight?” Your mouth grew dry as you struggled to form any words in response. The question was so simple, yet Falk’s tone was so incredibly intimate as he spoke to you.

“I'll be there.” You finally managed to squeak out.

He lifted your hand slightly; his breath was warm against your skin. “Hopefully, I'll be able to steal you away for a dance then.” His eyes flicker over your features before he brings your knuckles to his lips. “Until then, Schwester.” He wordlessly scoops up the books you had placed on the desk between you, giving you one final lopsided grin before hurrying from the library, leaving you dumbfounded.

You couldn't believe it when you stood in front of your mirror. You were truly no better than a teenage girl getting ready for prom. You glanced at the chaos that had ensued behind you: a mountain of dresses covered your bed, practically every pair of shoes you owned scattered the floor, various piles of tried-on and later discarded jewelry, leaving you still standing in your bathrobe as you agonized over what to wear.

You had just finished putting on your earrings when there was a sudden knock at your door. “One second!” You call in response, grumbling as you trip over your shoes on your way to the door. You freeze as your eyes land on Falk, your gaze darting to the vibrant bouquet he held before returning to his charming, lopsided grin. “Falk?” You can't help the shy smile that slowly spreads across your features. “What's this for?”

“Well, I couldn't show up empty-handed. Now, could I?” He responds vaguely, slipping the bouquet into your hands.

“Well, that all depends on why you're here, doesn't it?” He chuckles at your playful tone.

“I'm here to ask if the beautiful young woman in front of me would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Equinox celebration tonight.” He motions to the gift he had presented to you. “Hence the flowers.” You share a laugh, carefully spinning around the bouquet in your hands to admire the vibrant oranges, golds, and reds.

“You… you want to take me?” Your voice came out soft, barely above the whisper, as if you spoke any louder, you would snap yourself awake from a dream.

“If you'll have me.” He responds with a slight nervousness in his tone. He holds out his hand for you to take, a hopefulness in his eyes as they meet yours.

“I think it might be the other way around.” You reply coyly, your cheeks growing warm as your fingers ghost over his palm.

“Please,” you can't help but giggle as he takes your hand and guides you through a spin. He smiles as he drinks in the sight of you. You're absolutely beautiful,” your breath hitches in your throat as he gently trails his knuckle across your jaw. Walking in there with you on my arm feels almost too good to be true.”

“Let me just grab my shoes, " you said as you began to turn. Feel free to come in, but I'll warn you it's a bit of a mess…” he glanced at you curiously. “I couldn't figure out what to wear.” You both exchanged a laugh.

“Well, I think you look incredible, Mäuschen.” You mumble out a flustered ‘thank you,’ Falk sticking close to your side as you head into your dorm. You set the bouquet in some water, deeply inhaling its sweet scent. “I'm glad you like them.”

“Thank you for bringing them for me; that was very sweet.” He shrugs nonchalantly in response, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Like I said… I couldn't just show up empty-handed.” He takes a few steps forward, allowing him to resume his usual position towering over you. “I honestly wish I had prepared a bit more.” He chuckles.

“Getting to spend the night with you is all I could ever ask for.” You admit softly, your eyes trailing to the floor.

“Well then, my dearest Maus,” he takes your hand, carefully bringing your knuckles to his lips, “why don't you grab your shoes so we can enjoy our evening?” Your heart pounded; you were sure Falk could hear it. You reluctantly separated from him, picking up the pair of heels you had decided on. Falk’s hand was warm as it came to rest on the small of your back. “May I?” He asks, taking hold of your shoes. He drops to one knee, taking your hand in his for a moment to bring it to his shoulder. He carefully moves your dress out of the way to delicately lift your foot. He easily slips your shoe on before resting or on his thigh, fastening the strap around your ankle and asking you if everything felt alright before repeating the process.

“Thank you.” You smile down at him. Electricity danced across your skin, where he lazily ran his thumb across your ankle. He takes your hands in his as he stands.

“Ready?” You nod in response, your grin widening as you watch him slowly trace over the contours of your face. “Beautiful.” He mumbles before breathing out a bashful chuckle. He tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow, “Let’s get going.”

You found yourself leaning into Falk’s side as you walked, hiding your face against his shoulder as you laughed at another one of his dumb jokes. You could hear the party raging up the hallway as glasses clinked together and the excited laughter and shouts of the entire Abbey broke apart the otherwise tranquil autumn evening. When you entered the room, it felt like every pair of eyes had landed on you. Falk squeezes your hand before confidently stepping forward. “Falk!” The crowd's attention quickly diverted as Attila greeted the two of you. He claps Falk on the shoulder, greeting each other jovially in German before turning his attention to you, “Sorry about all the staring.” He chuckles.

“I thought I had prepared myself for that on the walk over here.” You respond with a laugh of your own.

“Just go have fun, don’t worry about them.” He leans closer to you to whisper, “Falk certainly isn’t.” He jokes. You glance at him over your shoulder, your heart leaping into your throat as you meet with his kind, adoring gaze. Attila straightens up, “I’ll see you both later.” He dismissed himself abruptly, surely trying to see as many people as possible before the night was over.

You turn to face him as Falk softly says your name. “Would you like to dance?” He offers you his hand, waiting patiently for you to accept his invitation. As you set your hand in his, a smile finds its way to your lips.

“I'd love to.” He tugs you in the direction of the dance floor. You can't help but laugh as he sweeps you into his arms, your heart fluttering as your hands rest against his chest. He takes your hand in his, the other settling against the curve of your waist.

“You look nervous, Mäuschen.” You share a playful grin.

“Can you blame me?” You reply softly.

“If anything, I should be the one that's nervous.” Your body instinctively begins to sway with his as he leads you around the floor.

“And why's that?” He carefully leads you through a spin before pulling you back to him.

“I showed up to a party accompanied by the most beautiful woman in The Abbey.” His arm fully encircles your waist, tipping you back towards the floor. “I just hope I don't manage to make myself look like a fool in front of you.”

Your cheeks grow warm at his compliment, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. “Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about.” Your breath catches in your throat as he shoots you another charming, lopsided grin. His gaze drops to your lips, lingering there momentarily before meeting your eyes again.

You danced with him for hours. The pair of you never seemed to tire as Falk effortlessly spun you around the room. Your nerves quickly slipped from your mind, the jealous stares of other Siblings being entirely lost to the warmth that burned in your chest every time Falk made you laugh. Eventually, you noticed the once-raging crowd beginning to thin as the night started to wind to a close. “Why don't we get out of here?” Your pulse races as Falk whispers the simple question in your ear. You nod, laughing as he takes your hand and hurriedly leads you through the crowd.

Falk sighs loudly as he pushes through the door into the chilly autumn evening. Goosebumps immediately erupt across your bare skin, the oppressive heat of the party inside being sucked away from you in an instant. He turns to you with a soft smile, shrugging out of his jacket to draw it across your shoulders. He cups your cheek, allowing his thumb to stroke over your skin as he studies you languidly. “What?” You ask with a bashful smile.

“You're beautiful, Mäuschen.” He responds with unhesitating tenderness. “I'm sorry if you catch me staring. I just can't help myself sometimes.” He pulls you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You wandered aimlessly around The Abbey’s grounds, just enjoying being in each other’s company. Neither of you wanted your time together to end, finding any excuse you could to lengthen the conversation. You paused at the distant rumble of thunder, jumping slightly when a raindrop splatters across your cheek. Falk grabs your hand, waiting for you to gather up your dress. You groan as you remember you're wearing heels. Falk chuckles, stepping closer to you to scoop you up in his arms. You let out a delighted squeal, your arms latching around his neck as he jogs off with you in his arms. It didn't take long for both of you to be completely soaked through with rain. He sets you down outside the greenhouse, the first unlockable door to shelter you came across. “I'm sorry about your dress.” He apologizes as he feels around the top of the door frame for the key.

“It'll dry.” You reassure him.

“I figured we could dry off here for a little while, wait for the rain to stop.” He explains as he finally slips the key into the lock. “I thought going for a walk would have been romantic.” He chuckles.

“Falk?” His attention turns to you as you softly say his name. “Would you like to dance with me?”

He chuckles as he nods. “I would love to, Maus.” He steps closer to you, “Here, let me help with your shoes. I don't need you getting stuck.” He meticulously helps you out of your heels, struggling to contain the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you step down to your normal height. You can't help but laugh as Falk gives you a low bow, offering you his hand. You gingerly lift your dress as you curtsy in response. Raindrops trailed down your skin; Falk swore you almost seemed to glow under the moonlight. He hums into the silence of the night, both of you moving in perfect synchronicity as you waltz through the wet grass. Falk bows once more as your dance finishes, bringing your knuckles to his lips before lifting you from the ground easily. The inside of the greenhouse was warm, immediately enveloping your whole body in a blanket of humidity as you hurried inside out of the rain. He carefully takes his sleeve, wiping away whatever water he could with his soaked shirt.

“Come here; I know where they keep some towels.” Falk smiles as you take his hand. You shake the handle of the supply closet, giving it a harsh twist before it finally gives way. It wasn't much, a few hand towels tucked beside a rickety old sink every used to wash up after a day of harvesting. You timidly raise your hand, carefully pressing the towel to his cheek to wipe away the ceremonial paint that now ran in dark gray streaks down his neck. Falk freezes under your delicate touch, his hands settling on the curve of your waist as he allows you to clean him up. As you slowly uncover his handsome features, a soft smile finds its way to your face. Falk was struggling to keep his eyes off of you; everything about you was just so perfect. The subtle curve of your lips as you cared for him just about made his heart stop.

“You'll catch a cold if you're stuck in that dress much longer.” He tuts, moving one of his hands to your shoulder. “Your skin feels like ice, Maus.”

“I'll be alright-”

“There you two are! What the hell do you think you're doing out here in this storm?” It was Roel. The two of you startled apart; you yelped as you tripped on the long skirt of your gown. Falk’s hand shot out in an instant, steadying you, and he pulled you into his chest.

“How did you know we were out here?” Falk asks in a confused tone.

“I was doing a grounds check. Trust me, this wouldn't be the first time I've found someone hooking up out here, and I'm sure it won't be the last.” He chuckles. “But, from the fact you two look like a couple of wet dogs, I'm assuming this wasn't part of your plan.” You could tell from his teasing tone that Father Roel wouldn't let either of you live this down any time soon. The three of you rush back inside The Abbey, Roel giving Falk very clear instructions to ensure you get home safely before parting ways.

“Let's get you into something dry, hm?” He offers you his arm, and you gladly accept it as you lean into his side. Your hand slides into his, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and ease some of the tension that rolled off of him in waves. He seems to snap himself from his thoughts as he turns to glance at you. “I'm sorry I made such a mess of our date, " he suddenly admits with a chuckle.

“I don't think you made a mess of anything. Falk, I'm having a wonderful time with you tonight.” Your steps slowly come to a stop.

“After I got you caught in the rain and probably ruined your nice dress.” He responds incredulously.

“It's just a dress.” You rebuttal. You turn to face him, and despite how hard he tried to hide it you could see the worry laced into his features. Your hand slowly rises from your side, hesitating for a moment before it gently comes to rest against his cheek. Falk’s warm, golden brown eyes find yours. “I wouldn't change anything about how tonight has gone.” Your confession poured past your lips before you could stop it. “While you were away, I can't even begin to describe how much I missed you. Now, you're home. You asked me to one of The Abbey’s most important parties, and I got to spend the entire night wrapped up in your arms… Falk Maria Schlegel, I love being around you. Getting caught in some rain isn't going to change that. There isn't anywhere I would rather have spent my night than by your side.” He barely gave you enough time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. The air was instantly knocked from your lungs, your hands fisting into Falk’s shirt in order to keep yourself upright and to pull him as close to you as you could manage. His strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you from the floor, leaving your toes barely skimming across the stone tile. His shoulders heave as he struggles to catch his breath, his eyes searching yours as you finally separate for air. You slide your hands over his shoulders, realizing he was making no move to set you down. Slowly, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips.

“You missed me, hm?” Your cheeks immediately begin to burn at the statement.

“Shut up.” You manage to respond through a flustered giggle. You let out a pleased hum as he pressed his lips to yours in a few short, sweet kisses. “Take me home.” You command.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk toying at the corners of his lips. “Yes, ma'am.” He sets you down for a moment to readjust his hold on you, his arm sliding behind your knees as he pulls you back into his chest. Swaying you with every step, Falk carried you back to his quarters so you could enjoy the rest of your evening alone.

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @belnovacaine @obsessed-and-possessed @crexpy34 @eentheekipekke @iamsarahsaysso

#falk powerwolf #powerwolf band #powerwolf #falk maria schlegel powerwolf #falk maria schlegel x reader #powerwolf falk #falk x reader #falk maria schlegel

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edgessunflower · 2 months ago

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My muse

Pairing: Damian Priest x Fem reader

Description: You secretly draw Damian and he finds your sketch book full of different drawings and small paintings

You sat in the hall after changing into your spare clothes feeling refreshed from the warm shower after your long and exhausting match against Io Shirai that seemed like it would never end until finally you got the upper hand and won while being in pain, sore, and a bit bloody having to get stitches before your shower to cover the the ten inch cut on your back just under your shoulder. Currently you were drawing in your sketchbook particularly Damian as he stood further down the hall at the catering table as he waited for his match against Pete Dunne not knowing that not only were you drawing him but that this wasn't the first sketch you had done of him over the past while from sketches of him sleeping on the bus you both were traveling on and a sketch of him working out to sketches of him stretching and him during his matches while watching backstage you couldn't help but draw him especially when he was a muse without even knowing it, you watched his match as you took a break from sketching to eat a small warm meal to ease your slightly upset stomach smiling softly at him when he walked by to his locker room. Two weeks later you and him went to the lake together enjoying one on one time together without being on the road or the rest of the roster in different rooms or nearby backstage as the two of you sat on pool floats talking and laughing as the two of you floated along the lake being sure not to go too far out as the sun shined over the two of you and then swimming in the cool water that eased your sun kissed skin, damian walked back to the car to grab his spare clothes where he heard a light thud looking down to see your sketchbook on the floor half opened showing a sketch you had done of him last week sitting outside his motel room with the neon lights glowing over him and soon he looked to see the other sketches you had done of him with a few sketches of other people and random things in between and soon he was just standing there with a small smile forming on his face as you walked to the car wondering what was taking him so long to dry off and grab his clothes since you were dried and already changed after bringing your spare clothes in a bag but when you stopped a few inches in front of him you saw him holding your sketchbook making your heart stop before he turned to look at you. "I see I've been your secret muse" a pink dust formed on your face as you looked at him making him chuckle while gently lifting your chin up before kissing you softly leading to a series of soft and paused kisses which made your heart flutter and quiver while wrapping your arms around his shoulders and his hands on your lower back as the two of you lost yourselves in the kiss and each other before both of you pulled away smiling at each other and laughing softly, "Wouldn't want anyone else as a muse, my muse" you smiled at each other before sharing another kiss before he was changed leading to the two of you having lunch and spending the evening at his house.

#nxt x reader #damian priest #damian priest x reader #nxt

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sawyer-is-eepy · 4 months ago

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goodbye campfire fest!!

this has been so so much fun- i'm so happy i got to be able to be a part of this wonderful event with so many talented artists and writers- it's been so beautiful seeing everyone's interpretations and writing and i've loved seeing everyone come together to create something unique. being so excited to open tumblr everyday and see what people's contributions are has been the highlight of my days this week, and it's so cool to me that i can be a part of this for the first event, and even though it was a teensy bit stressful, i'm so glad i've been able to hit all the prompts.

i can't wait to see what people might post during late submissions!! gonna keep checking every day to see. I've found many new talented artists and writers I had never seen before through this event, you all are seriously so nice and have been so sweet to me and to each other, this event has made me so happy.

I can't wait to see more from all of you. happy fest and much love!

@outerwilds-events

some more doodles(base game and eote spoilers) + random sappy rambling (positive vent?) below cut

some other random doodles from this weekend <3

yes I gave prisoner ears. I'm sorry I'm too much of a furry for this fandom aha

on a serious note, this fandom and this game have been my favorite thing about this year so far. Seriously, I was actually having a really tough couple months around the start of this year. I was dealing with a really really toxic friend in November and December and I was struggling to get over them. I was having a hard time letting go of my hurt and of the memory of them and our friendship- I was hurt and angry and I missed how great it was in the beginning. It was really tough for me, I didn't have any way to distract myself and I didn't have a way to let out my feelings. I felt stuck and trapped with a horrible memory and I didn't have the motivation to let it go. Then comes along this silly little game, that I remembered trying to play forever ago. I decided that I should probably try to play it again, and god it was the best decision I've ever made. This game, it has brought me so so much joy. I finally felt like I was able to let go and learn to move on and just enjoy the good memories while still remembering that they're in the past and while I can't change what happened, I can look forward to the future and hope. this game helped me cope with the grief, it helped me learn how to take care of myself and recover. It affected me so much in many ways, I will never ever forget it. This community has also brought me so much happiness, I've met so many wonderful and kind people, and I've became friends with some really cool people(one person in particular has been especially swaggers, you know who you are you weirdo /affectionate /plat). campfire fest has been great and I'm glad I got to be a part of it!! When I was thinking of what to draw for today, all I could think of was the immense amount of support I've received and given, and seen being passed around. So I figured it should be something to express that love!! Much love, and goodbye to campfire fest!! Can't wait to do this again next year <333

#campfire fest 2024 #campfire fest #day 7 #outerwilds #outer wilds #outer wilds events #outer wilds hatchling #outer wilds protagonist

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deadwooddross · 6 months ago

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Poppin in for the first time in a few months— I’ve been following your art on and off for like two years now, and I just want to say that your art style is still one of my favorite art styles. It’s unique, I love you draw noses/mouths/eyes (gods i love the way you draw mouths and teeth and facial expressions in general, am trying to learn from how you do this because it’s SO GOOD) in a really detailed way while still maintaining stylization, and the grittiness of a lot of your art really inspires me!

Also, your armada of trans characters (happy early pride, btw!) are wonderful. Umami in particular is my beloved (to be loved is to be changed indeed, she’s wonderful, and I think about that particular post all the time). Gender stuff’s been funky for me over the past few years, and your peeps have been something of a comfort for me as I figure myself out. Especially because a lot of your characters don’t adhere to strict gender norms— they just exist in their gender, whether that’s dude or woman or nb or something else, and it’s been helping me figure out that I can just exist wherever I’m at, too. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but yeah, it’s appreciated.

I also just really appreciate the diversity in your character designs in general, especially as someone who struggles with variation in character design. I might be rambling here, but even amongst all your fantasy stuff (I’m not quite sure what warhammer is, but you make it look epic), your people just look like they’d be regular people. Like no shade on other artists!, but at the same time, the same anime-esque small nose round/oval face different hair different eyes athletic build for everyone’s favorite characters gets samey after awhile, and i don’t know a lot of people who look like that in real life, y’know? While like your characters like Lyell and human Umami (off the top of my head) and your less obviously fantastical designs in general look like people I could run into while, like, I dunno, grocery shopping or something. They’re unique, but they’re also grounded. It’s definitely something I want to bring to my own art— it makes me feel like I could connect to the character designs more because of it.

I hope this all made sense, but basically your art is really really cool, and you’re character designs are top notch! wishing you a wonderful Pride and a great rest of your week

I've just been looking at this ask every now and then like :] wahhh, thanks!! it's always nice to get an idea of what it is people See in my art these days, since it just kinda looks 'normal' to me haha. Never really think of it as being all that stylized until I realize oh wait, most people are out here drawing much more reasonably sized mouths, oops, and i love regular people! Truly some of the best inspiration for interesting character designs to me are usually out buying corn nuts and a beer at the gas station and whathaveyou...regular people are great, i recommend jotting down any interesting folks you see as fast as you can, like a monk frantically scribbling down a vision from heaven

#i may not perfectly remember the beige fit fairy #or the front-toothless hottie telling us about the bimbo drag show where they lost said teeth #BUT I DO REMEMBER THEM /ENOUGH!!/#answers to questions #happy pride to thee in turn #as for the gender #i mean you got it #just existing as fuckin whatever? rules

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zombeebunnie · 6 months ago

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Trembling Essence:💙Choice exploration + finished scenes💙

Hello and welcome new followers, here's an update on how things are going with the game! Firstly a big thank you to the sudden influx of support I got this week, I'm happy knowing people liked the little meme video I did! :,]

This post might be a little long since I had to rewrite a few things, I was trying to upload a picture of one of the new areas you can go in but I got an error and couldn't save what I wrote. :,S

Anywho, I mainly focused on quality of life changes and continued working with the one of the endings you can get at the start of the game.

I don't really know where to start but this ending took a lot longer than expected to really hit what I've been trying to go for. At first, it was going to have two different endings. I took out one of them because I didn't have much of a connection with it and I liked the idea of it being straightforward instead. When I went back over it, everything happened too quickly for my liking. To fix this I went back and added a few choices to at least give you an idea of what the area is like and how it effects the player(Y/N) while making sure the dialog transitioned correctly with what you see on the screen. It's nothing too wordy but I do like it a lot more than I did before. Even though this is still considered one ending there is a alternate version you can get depending on a certain choice. Towards the end I fixed up all the spelling errors I could find and happily enough, there wasn't many. For right now I'd say this ending is finished! Yay! x]

Here's one of my favorite CG's I drew for it:

I love how it turned out because I really want to do different angles and perspective through the terrain, I think this one is my favorite so far! :,,]

Here's a evening time version of it:

It's suppose to be raining in this image but I still need to practice getting the angle correct. :,,]

I'm also fixing/brainstorming up the second/third ending. This one will have two different areas you can navigate through to get an idea of where you are and a few hints of lore that will be referenced later on in the game. Those that have played the [Extended Demo] you probably know which ones I'm talking about. >;]

I already like the idea of them but for one of the paths, I didn't have enough time to branch it out and make backgrounds for it in the [Extended Demo] so here's a peek of a placeholder since I'm still sketching stuff out, nothing is finalized yet. :[]

Super close to the cabin section, yay! I actually miss writing/drawing out the segments in the cabin a whole bunch so I really can't wait to fix up that part once I'm done with the swamplands. :,,]

I said last week I'd post some of the new backgrounds/areas so here you go:

Kofi update:

I also had a small talk with my play testers and one of the things they brought up is that I should be promoting my ko-fi better so from now on I'll have little mini doodles doing so at the end of every game development post as a way to promote it! :] All donations and tips help tremendously while I work on the game. If you like what I create, please consider supporting what I do here! I was able to use previous tips to get a new wrist support brace when I'm drawing so a very big thank you to everyone who gave a tip! :,,]

Q&A / Ask box is open:

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here or on itch.io please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

I enjoyed answering the asks I got recently this week! I'm trying to finish the rest when I can including the ones I remember that got deleted. There were some I genuinely couldn't answer because it would require me to mention major spoilers/the questions have spoilers in them. :,]

This post is getting really long now so that's all I have to discuss, thank you guys very much for all of the encouraging support this past week, I appreciate it a whole bunch! :,,]

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tyramir · 13 days ago

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My Thoughts on Veilguard

I've finished the game, and as a longtime Dragon Age fan, these are my (spoiler free) thoughts.

It's good. It's not great. It wasn't worth the ten year wait.

Veilguard is a semi-climax in terms of lore building across three games. There are mysteries that have been resolved and paid off. Long asked questions have been answered. We know so many things we didn't know before, and there's satisfaction in the knowing.

This is where Veilguard succeeds the best at, in my opinion. The big picture.

Where it fails is in the execution. In the little things. While lore is paid off in the grand gestures, it almost feels spat on in the small ones. It's tiny things, little inconsistencies that feel like nitpicks, but they build up fast. The breaking point for me was one character chanting an incantation while casting a spell. Since when does Dragon Age magic require incantations? The answer? Never. Do your homework, please. I know you're trying to build drama into your scene, but the complete lore break took me out of it. It was so jarring and unneeded and kind of lazy.

And that's what a lot of the writing feels like in this game. Lazy. And all respect to Trick Weekes and their team. They've done great things in the past. But the writing in this game clearly doesn't trust its audience to draw its own conclusions about anything. It is constantly trying to feed you an opinion to have, both in what characters say to your Rook, and in the dialogue options Rook is presented. I know by and large that you're going to have limited dialogue options as a consequence of budget and technical issues, but certain issues presented are very nuanced, and the dialogue tends to feel, "You think this is good", "You think this is bad," "You think this is sad," or "I have a quippy sarcastic comment about this that does not require me to commit to an opinion one way or the other." And while it works for the first half of the game... it doesn't work for the back half.

I don't know about anyone else, but the romance storyline I pursued felt... short. As if it were added in as an afterthought. As if someone said, "Well, I guess we're known as the horny RPG franchise, so we have to include something."

A lot of people come to Bioware for the interpersonal relationships, both romantic and not, between characters. And both romantic and platonic, this felt like the weakest entry in the series in a lot of respects. I feel like there was more growth between the friendship of Lucanis and Davrin than there was between Rook and any given party member.

A lot of narrative arcs didn't do it for me. At all. I found Neve's entire plotline and character very phoned in. I was excited at the idea of a Mage Detective in Tevinter, looking to protect the little guy. She was presented, on-paper, as a clever and passionate mage who defies what it means to be one in a country that very much believes in magical supremacy. It's probably because of my expectations. I wanted Harry Dresden. Instead, I got ... Neve.

I understand there is party banter that explains why Neve wears high fashion outfits when she comes from a poor neighbourhood, working jobs for people who have little to no way of paying her. But why is her voice actor also presenting her as very posh? Why is this woman throwing around sacks of coins to overpay for her lunch, and not scrounging for loose change in cushions at the Lighthouse? Why is she presented as highly educated and well-spoken, and not a street-savvy, 'I learned from experience and have great intuition but poor grammar' gumshoes?

And then there's Taash. I am not going to be one of those dudebros who cries about woke culture. Or at least, I hope I do not come off that way. But Taash, written personally by Trick Weekes, was so clumsy and hamfisted, and I am left disappointed. I romanced Taash, and I am disappointed with their character arc. Because it is so painfully generic. It couldn't have played into cliches harder if it tried. I wanted more. Taash does have a personality beyond being non-binary. But they don't have a character arc beyond that.

Expectations, I guess. I went into Veilguard with a lot of them, and they came up short.

I like this game. I swear, I do. But Inquisition came out when I had an Xbox 360, and was just about to get an XBox One. It's been so long since Inquisition, we have an entire generation of consoles in between releases. I expected a masterpiece. And I did not get one.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #review

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i-am-just-a-skeleton · 3 months ago

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oh before i forget, i wanted to post something for @maycuryweek

this is the first scene of an AU i've been working on for a while (which i Still don't have a name for). Sorry if the formatting's a little odd i've never posted fic on tumblr before

Brian hadn’t expected to find anyone else up in the tower, especially not at this time of night. So when he opened the door to see a girl about his age sitting in the window, he nearly dropped his candle in surprise. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone w-” The girl startled at his words, jumping up from her seat.

“Who- Your Highness!” She quickly began to collect the drawing paper and pencils left behind her in the window seat.

“Don’t do that, I only wanted to look at the stars a bit, you can stay if you like. Or you can leave, you- you don’t have to though, I’m sorry, I-” To his surprise, she had started laughing. He stared, not sure what to make of the outburst.

“I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me. Only, you looked so funny, all pale and wavering in the candlelight, like a nervous little ghost.”

At that, Brian couldn’t help but crack a smile himself, relaxing enough to approach and sit on the opposite end of the window seat. “I’m Brian”

She laughed again, in a way that implied she had obviously already known his name, but found his insistence at maintaining politeness to be amusing. “I’m Melina. Do you come up here often, then?”

“Not really. Well, sort of? About once a week I think. Er. Sorry”

She waved away his apology, shuffling the papers in her hands. “Probably no surprise we bumped into each other eventually, then. I’ve been up most nights the past week. I’m trying to draw the view from the tower, but in another day or two the moon will be too far gone and I’ll have to wait until next month for the light to be bright enough again.” She sighed dramatically at that and gestured out the window. He followed her hand, looking down instead of up as usual.

“Oh!” He pressed closer to the glass, trying to take in the whole of the view at once. Below the tower, the castle gardens spread out like a tapestry. The hedges and paths traced delicate lines across the whole thing, and the pond made a perfect mirror at the far end, shimmering in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never… I hadn’t really paid much attention to it before.”

“Really? Then what have you been doing up here?”

“I’ve, um.” Brian ducked his head, looking out into the garden rather than at his newfound companion. “I’ve been looking at the stars. I found this book in the library, that talks about their positions, and how they can be used for navigation, and how they change throughout the seasons. It’s very interesting.” He stopped there, still staring out the window. Now she would laugh at him again, and say that spending his nights mooning away over stars was a silly thing to do, and-

“Oh, that sounds fascinating!” He looked up with a start.

“It does?”

She looked at him a little oddly, but smiled and said: “Yes, it does. Tell me about it?”

"Oh! Well, um, what do you want to know?"

"Hmmm... tell me about your favourite star?"

"It's not a star, exactly, or not a single star at least. It looks like one from here, but with a telescope you can see it’s really three all together. There’s a sketch of what they look like in the chapter about wizards’ stars- that’s stars they use for magic, I’m not sure how though because the book doesn’t go into very much detail on that. I suppose you’d have to be a wizard to know the specifics. Anyway, those are called the Shifters because they have to do with transformation magic. You can see them now, they’re just there." Brian gestured for Melina to move closer so he could point out the stars’ location.

“Is that them? Up above the trees there?”

Brian nodded happily. “Yes, and if you look there…” He pointed up to the sky again, and set off explaining the nearby constellations.

---

It was only when the edge of the sky started to grow grey that he realised just how long they’d been sat there. Melina blinked sleepily at him when he stopped in the middle of a sentence, and then glanced out the window where he was looking.

“Oh, it’s gotten- early, hasn’t it?” She collected her drawing papers from the seat beside her as Brian hummed a response. “Someone’s probably going to be looking for us soon, we’d better get back downstairs before they do.”

#aghhh i have been feeling very good about this au for Months and now that i'm actually posting some of it i'm so nervous #this bit here amounts to abt 1/5 of what i've got written but there's a lot more to go still #wanna get it Mostly finished before i start posting chapters on ao3 cause i've not been writing the scenes in order #queen fanfiction #maycuryweek2024

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 2 years ago

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24-Karat Harrison | BODY BACK Update #3

THE WRITING UPDATE WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR (I’M WE)!

Let's chat chapter 3 of my literary fiction novella, BODY BACK! Harrison stares at himself in so many bathroom mirrors, gets down to Don't Cha (Pussycat Dolls), tries to forget the man he once was, reclaims himself through excess, & more! Post under the cut!

Logline: After an argument with his mother draws him much too close to the past, Harrison turns to Jeremiah to help him develop a gilded persona.

Update 1 | Update 2

BODY BACK taglist (please ask to be added or removed :))

@thelivingdeceased @writinglittlebeastss @cuntylittlesalmon @obssesedwithscandaledits @jaydewritesfiction @keira-is-writing @onomatopiya @dustyplotbunnies @euphoniouspandemonium @rowansghost @strangerays @rodentwrites @wildswrites @saltwaterbells

Random thoughts turn into...

A couple weeks ago, I was oversharing in my tags and in the process of doing so, came up with the phrase "24-karat harrison."

#I don't drink but I can positively say drunk rachel would 100% be just harrison like 24 karat harrison #actually going to get him to describe himself as 24 karat harrison in the next bb chapter fantastic this was a productive random thought

AND SO 24K HARRISON WAS BORN!

What does it mean to split yourself into two facets, one polished, one unpolished? What could you do if YOU were "24-karat" for a day? This phrase instantly shaped the entire direction of this chapter.

Also, as a poet, I cannot overlook how wonderfully "24-karat" and "Harrison" match each other. VISUAL congruency?? Syllabic harmony??? THE ASSONANCE?? He was built for this.

The plot

CW: this is the most *mature content* chapter I've written in BB so there are mentions of sex, drugs, and suicidal ideation.

"24-Karat Harrison" jumps right off the last chapter of BB where Harrison's stormed away from his mother after she drives him to Lonan's apartment (lol). He arrives at Jeremiah's place tired of who he is and in desperate need of a major change.

The chapter is split into two simple halves: scenes in Jeremiah's apartment, and scenes in a Las Vegas nightclub. How Harrison manages to get into so many shenanigans in these two locations alone astounds me! :)

Scene A:

Harrison turns up on Jeremiah's doorstep soaking wet from the rain. He's looking for a distraction :) & Jeremiah provides :)

Scene B:

A Haremiah pillow talk moment that ends abruptly when Harrison asks Jeremiah if he has Tylenol???? (romantic king /s)

In scene A, Harrison noticed Jeremiah hosted a party. Here, he asks him why he wasn't invited, and Jeremiah suggests it's because he seems too quiet to party

Scene C:

In an attempt to manufacture a more confident personality, Jeremiah helps style Harrison, complete with a fur coat and cowboy hat (horrifying).

Scene D:

Harrison retreats to the bathroom while he and Jeremiah wait for their ride to the club. He's not confident despite the new outfit and goes feral on Jeremiah's hair products, makeup, cologne etc. He finally sees 24-Karat Harrison in the mirror and is pleased.

Scene E:

At the club, Harrison and Jeremiah run into Biyu, Jeremiah's friend from Chapter 6 of Moth Work. His confidence is shot when she suggests he's quiet despite his new persona.

Scene F:

Harrison dances with Jeremiah, but is unable to shake Biyu's comments. He presses Jeremiah for validation, but Jeremiah wants to have a good night, not therapize the man he's seeing.

As Harrison continues to pester, Jeremiah reunites with his friends and is drawn into a (potential) group make out session. Harrison gets overstimulated.

Harrison flees to the club bathroom for reprieve when he again catches his reflection and doesn't recognize himself. His lack of recognition angers him--he's tired of seeing everyone in his face but himself.

A man--Perry--who is one of Jeremiah's friends, interrupts Harrison at the mirror to flirt. Harrison is agitated but drawn to him nonetheless.

Writing process & themes

I talked about how I structure chapters for BODY BACK in THIS post, but essentially, I orbit each scene around a particular theme.

I didn't really know what the theme of this chapter was until yesterday. I'd noticed I kept "repeating beats" throughout this chapter--particularly, Harrison analyzing himself in bathroom mirrors, which happens THREE times. At first, I thought I'd done something wrong because Harrison seemed to keep "backtracking" in narrative which made his psychology seem inconsistent.

By the time I got to the final reflection analyzation though, I realized THAT was the theme--bobbing between extremes when you're in the middle of an identity crisis.

What Harrison doesn't admit to himself in this chapter is that he's lost himself since he broke up with Lonan. The only Harrison he knows is the Harrison who chased Lonan across the country, put his needs above his own, etc. Now that Lonan's gone, Harrison doesn't know himself at all. This is why he reaches toward 24k Harrison, a caricature of himself painted in broad, unsubtle strokes--at the very least, he won't forget himself if he looks ridiculous.

But it doesn't work! This is because versions of who he "was" keep popping up. He can't help but feel like the vulnerable person he was when he was with Lonan.

Therefore, we really explore extremes in 24kH. Extreme pleasure VS extreme hollowness (Jeremiah kissing him in the doorway and then immediately walking away in scene A). In scene C he’s hot but he’s not. He wants to sleep with himself but he’s not desirable at all. He's alright with begging but wants to be begged. He wants to live a very specific life where he buys cowboy hats for livestock and eats ice cream with his hands but he also wants to die. He’s Jesus but he’s discarded bits of gold (THANK YOU for pointing that out @jaydewritesfiction!). He’s twinkling but he’s the dullest person in the room.

It took me a while to actually see I'd been doing that--purposefully creating contradictions in narrative--the ENTIRE chapter. Smh Rachel, good job with all those literary devices you didn't realize you were using.

This chapter took me a lot longer to write than I wanted it to (about a month), but it's also because it's SO long (7k, which is currently half the manuscript). I'm so happy with how it turned out though because its creation represents EVERYTHING I love about it: impulsivity, chasing highs, uncovering darker folds of you the longer you sit inside manufactured gold.

Music

Music was SOOO important in the conception and understanding of 24kH for me, more than usual! In fact, I've made a very specific playlist that is a track-by-track breakdown of the chapter (in order).

Here's a quick breakdown of each song & where they go in the chapter!

1. Nobody by Greyson Chance (studio version) - Backbone of the ENTIRE chapter!!!! Chapter starts with this song.

2. Hands by Greyson Chance - Haremiah make out ANTHEM <3. Also in scene A.

3. Hellboy by Greyson Chance - End of scene A where Haremiah gets... intense lol love <3

4. Fade Into You by Mazzy Star - This is on the radio while Haremiah gets DOWN. Start of scene B.

5. Aloe Vera by Greyson Chance - Haremiah sharing a joint & pillow talk song. Middle of scene B.

6. I Got So High That I Saw Jesus by Noah Cyrus - Haremiah sharing a joint & pillow talk song but it's getting sadder & more internal. End of scene B.

7. Nobody by Greyson Chance (live version) - CRITICAL song for this chapter so it appears twice!!! Live version is Harrison at the start of scene C.

8. Black Mascara by Greyson Chance - Harrison analyzing himself in the mirror ANTHEM (this song is also the backbone of this chapter). Harrison goes feral in the bathroom because he thinks he's better off when he does what he fucking wants etc.

9. I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred - Actually this is supposed to be the Shrek version :) so :) anyway self-explanatory. Rest of C.

10. Welcome to the DCC by Nothing But Thieves - Walking into the club anthem (scene E).

11. SexyBack by Justin Timberlake - Dancing and feeling real good about it (beginning of scene F).

12. Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls - SELF-EXPLANATORY don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like 24-karat Harrison (middle of scene F).

13. Sex & Other Drugs by Greyson Chance - Fleeing to the bathroom anthem (for sex & other drugs??? maybe; rest of scene F).

I also wanted to talk about the significance of the track Nobody because... it's this WHOLE chapter! I wrote this tag essay about it a couple weeks ago when I shared an excerpt where Harrison sees himself as a trophy while in the 24kH getup (excerpted later in the post):

#also there are many greyson chance easter eggs here #the trophy bit i've already mentioned is a reference to the live version of “nobody” #where he goes 'i'm not the trophy you think i am' #which is actually not in the studio version #ANYWAY the LIVE VERSION is a sad piano ballad of THAT #so anyway I love that the trophy line #was cut from the studio version but is in the sad piano version lol #don't know how to more articulately describe harrison's psychology in BB except for... that

The idea of "I'm not the trophy you think I am" really is the thematic crux of this chapter. Harrison KNOWS he's not good enough for Jeremiah. He also knows he wasn't good enough for Lonan. Everyone's looking at him like he's a saint somehow--to Lonan he was, only mattering when he was long martyred. Jeremiah sees too much good in Harrison, good that Harrison doesn't see in himself. At moments, Harrison IS confident. He IS the trophy. But then there are those sobering moments when reality hits him and he knows he just isn't (SAD). It's why he creates 24kH because HE could be good enough (and the truth is, he still isn't).

Excerpts

Jeremiah greets Harrison at the door lol:

Jeremiah might be the only man alive who’d open the door for someone as soggy as Harrison.

He’s shirtless and damp from the shower, a green toothbrush lodged against his gums. His heathered sweats drape low on his waist, bronze skin varnished with moisturizer. And Harrison likes this—a man mid nighttime routine—but what he likes more is how unstartled Jeremiah is when he grabs him by the hips and kisses him so hard, bristles jolt against his tongue. What’s he looking for in another man’s mouth—heavens, gods, a prayer? Fuck if he knows. What matters are Jeremiah’s chiclet teeth, Jeremiah’s healthy gums, the way in one gulp, they all become Harrison’s. And this is what normal is, yeah—Jeremiah a minty man ensconced by a bare tungsten bulb, Harrison his midnight lover, both of them in need of the other simply because they are here, alive, men.

Jeremiah gives Harrison whiplash lmao show him king!!!:

But in one dizzy breath, they’re separated, and the thought is gone as quickly as Jeremiah who slinks through his apartment like an unbothered shorthair, telling Harrison to lock the front door, to follow him to the bathroom.

Harrison’s ears buzz. He stares at the living room, wipes his mouth of foam, his lips tingling with menthol. Jeremiah hosted a party earlier. A game of parcheesi scattered on the coffee table, the kitchen sink teetering with mismatched cups, saucers. Cigarette butts pock a strawberry-shaped ashtray like seeds. Harrison salivates, tempted for a moment to filch around for one salvageable enough to relight. It’s only when Jeremiah calls his name that he shakes out of his stupor. But still, by the time he reaches the beaded bathroom door, he has to distract his mouth by digging his lips into the scalloped moulding.

Jeremiah crooks a brow at him in the mirror, then turns to the sink, spits. He’s gargling with mouthwash when he asks a question.

“What?” Harrison asks. His head hurts. Jeremiah would have a bottle of acetaminophen in his medicine cabinet, wouldn’t he?

Jeremiah holds up a hand as he swishes, rubbing at spats of toothpaste on the mirror with his wrist. He spits again. “You go swimming or something?”

Jeremiah is an ANGEL in the bathroom:

Jeremiah leans against the counter, haloed by one of three lightbulbs that isn’t blown out over the vanity. Harrison offered to replace them a week ago and still hasn’t done it, perhaps because the low light is more inviting, the way it cups Jeremiah like mist. Though maybe any lighting would be inviting to Harrison when he’s like this—in such high need of ravaging something.

Jeremiah wets his lips, glancing away with a mute smile before he looks right back. “Or is the rain really bad?” Harrison takes a step forward, and then another, another. Suzanna could be looking for him, calling everyone she knows in this city to help bring her son home. She won’t sleep tonight, and Harrison won’t either but for different reasons. In front of him, Jeremiah is as sunny as he is unaware, his curls plump around his ears, a man Harrison would like to undo with one look—to make beg, like gods make their believers do.

Lonan Clark behaviour:

“You’re like a wet dog,” says Jeremiah. A breath wheezes in his chest.

Harrison looks up at him. From this angle, bowed against another man’s body, he could look like a believer in supplication. Please go gently. Please spare my life. “Thank you.”

CUTE Haremiah interrupted by Harrison's terrible timing:

Now Jeremiah nuzzles into his ribs. He smells like soap and orange rinds, his tattooed skin downy under Harrison’s callused fingertips. He traces an empty fishbowl on Jeremiah’s arm with his pinkie, a half-finished anatomical heart with his thumb, a wobbly dandelion with his ring finger, the cherub guarding his elbow with his index. I love you, he could say. They’ve known each other for two weeks, hung out less than ten times, spent most of their time examining each other’s hands. But this could be love, right? Jeremiah’s made him breakfast every night he’s stayed over—peach French toast, hot muesli, black coffee. Every time they watch film noir on Jeremiah’s two-seater, they simply find each other’s hair and twirl, sometimes meet each other’s mouths and hover there, these clement weekend lovers.

“You got any painkillers?” Harrison asks.

Jeremiah jerks against his skin, his nose knocking into Harrison’s shoulder blade. He hikes onto his elbow, brows furrowed like he’s about to say something when his eyes narrow on Harrison’s finger.

“You’re wearing my ring,” he says, leaning toward Harrison’s hand for a better look.

“Am I?”

If I were Harrison I would simply just forget about Lonan because JEREMIAH???

Jeremiah should paint his room sage. The cherrywood picture frames warrant it. In the corner, a gold mirror flares like Jesus’ spoked halo. Two crinkled issues of the New York Times on the vanity, an ivory sheepskin throw collapsed in the corner. Jeremiah exists here mid-motion—the condom wrappers on the hardwood leading to the mattress like Hansel’s pebbles, sunglasses spoked in a magazine rack, a used cotton ball stained with black nail polish on the windowsill. Harrison absorbs it all on his back like rapidly flattening dough. He could be part of this room, too. Last Monday, Jeremiah suggested he move in. “You can sleep in the bathtub,” he joked, but kissed the back of Harrison’s neck. He’d smelled bright like the leather polish he’d buffed onto his bomber jacket. “Or elsewhere.”

Jeremiah as a trophy & LMFAO tYLeNoL???

Now, Harrison weakly reaches for Jeremiah’s hair, winds a curl around his finger. Jeremiah is soft like brioche and as dazzling as a mirror ball. And what’s the difference between worshipping him and Jesus if they are both men? At least Jeremiah is here, a trophy in front of him.

“Tylenol?” he whispers.

Cont'd:

Jeremiah places a hand on Harrison’s face. In his eyes, Harrison is insufficient, an edge of a man. Perhaps it’s the headache or Jeremiah’s gentle concern, but after a moment, the feeling is so unbearable that he pulls away and buries his face in the pillow. The mattress springs when Jeremiah rises, and for a moment, Harrison feels suspended in air like a crucified Jesus above the altar. He doesn’t have a face, a body, a heart. He is just dust.

Harrison wants to be a spider so he can finally be a homeowner?? ok same:

He slumps back onto the bed, analyzing the popcorn ceiling when Jeremiah climbs in next to him. He slings an arm around Harrison’s bare shoulders, and they pass the joint back and forth, its scent rich like oregano. The smoke is delicate as a dissipating spider’s web, pale and gauzy like a curtain in morning light. As Harrison smokes, he imagines what it might be like to be an arachnid—the many homes he could make.

Harrison really knows how to ruin a moment pt. 5 bajillion:

There’s a damp spot on the ceiling that’s only visible when car headlights skirt past the building. Harrison’s meant to ask about it, but what would be the point now? It’s not like he could fix it—and if Jeremiah doesn’t look at the right time, he’ll never notice. “You didn’t invite me,” Harrison says.

Jeremiah jumps. From here, he’s a mere lump under the covers, the only physical evidence of him his warm breaths on Harrison’s stomach. “What?” he asks.

Harrison twists the joint, puffs. His tongue feels bloated like his jacket. “To your party.”

A pause. When Jeremiah next speaks, his voice is muffled by the sheets. “I didn’t think that was your scene.” He rests his cheek on Harrison’s sternum, and he’s heavy like the jacket too. “You know. Crowds.”

“What made you think that?”

Jeremiah burrows out from the duvet. Harrison knows he’s trying to look at him, but he’s caught up in the ceiling again, the way that patch ebbs like a candle’s flame. “You’re…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremiah says, crossing his legs. “Meek.”

Harrison wants to laugh—meek like a lamb, a poplar, a monotonous prairie, a man’s whispered okay, a frail river, a piano’s high C played over and over and over and over and over again—but what comes out instead is a whimper. Jeremiah cups his face again, says something about good things, compliments, the power in mildness. He smells like baby powder now, plumeria—and why is that? He’s a man forever in change even in the simplest of ways, thriving in his evolution. Harrison’s favourite colour has been the same since he was four.

He holds Jeremiah’s jaw to shut him up. His eyes are flecked with topaz today, sienna tomorrow. If Harrison could touch God tonight. If Harrison could believe in something for just a minute.

“Make me feral,” he whispers.

COWBOY HAT??

Jeremiah starts with a new jacket. He’s made it clear that Harrison can’t go clubbing soaking wet, so they rifle through his closet and land on a fur coat that was last dry-cleaned months ago. It’s knee-length, the sleeves wide catacombs, the taupe fur brindled like Eliza’s tortoise-shell ring. Lonan’s ring, technically. In front of his standing mirror, Jeremiah unearths it from the garment bag like it’s a body, holds the hanger in front of Harrison so the fabric drapes off his chest.

“You like it?” asks Jeremiah, cheek pressed to Harrison’s shoulder blade. He’s laid out a tasseled button-up for himself that glitters like hematite in the light, and he’ll dazzle in it, of course—Jeremiah is built for this, the sharpened eyeliners on the bathroom counter, the dented cans of hair mousse, the nail file on the dresser, the ridged perfume atomizer he’ll mist himself with a moment before they leave the apartment. He is sleek beauty, a marbleized man ready to be polished, adored.

And what is Harrison, then? With the fur coat cinched against his body, he could be polished, too, couldn’t he? Sure, he isn’t a gilded icon, but maybe he sees Jesus in his face right now because he has the potential to be, or because at their cores, they’re both sad men. His hair doesn’t have to look like Suzanna’s, but instead like the young bark of cinnamon. And his eyes—they’re not his father’s but his own, an unmarred pool of teal. Maybe he’s a little rough where he should be suave, but that’s hot nowadays, isn’t it? Besides, if Jeremiah sees something angelic in that mirror, then yeah, Harrison could see it too. Forget his cryptic mouth, his hair that’s too long as Suzanna pointed out, his eyes and the way they’re wounded, not like a deer’s in headlights but like a deer’s in death. Forget the scar across his forehead, the way another man’s hands used to touch it not like it was lightning but a pathway to some better place. Sure, Harrison’s no Christ, no Jacob, no God—but why should he be? He’s here under the tungsten bite of Jeremiah’s chandelier, a man in shameless excess, eyes more spangled than this country’s flag. And he could stay here, couldn’t he? He could enjoy staring at himself, not like he’s bronze but like he’s pure gold.

Cont'd (this is so sad LOL):

He straightens, adjusts the fur on his shoulder. In truth, he looks too much like his mother, stands too much like his father, stares too much like Lonan. His hands aren’t soft. He’s got split ends. At best he smells like cigarette smoke, car exhaust, chlorine. But what does Jeremiah see? Maybe someone loveable yeah, maybe someone to cry over. For a moment, Harrison worries the answer is nothing at all.

And then a nose nudges against the back of his neck, Jeremiah muttering about Madonna’s new album, buying new razors, growing his own marijuana. In minutes, they’ll be dancing until the room spirals or until they’re extensions of the other, whichever comes first. And Harrison will love it all because he loves everything about his life—this new jacket, this new man, this face that isn’t a reminder of who used to look at it, this muggy room, this mirror like a portal he could almost step through, this breakthrough because he’s gold. He’s gold.

Harrison steps away from the mirror, presses a hand against his eyeball. He’s going to need another Tylenol. An Ibuprofen for the hell of it. What if Jacob never dreamt of God, made the whole story up? What if Jacob just wanted to run away with his livestock? Harrison could use livestock.

He turns to Jeremiah. “You got a cowboy hat?” he asks.

Harrison making out with himself because that's a normal thing to do:

Funnily, Jeremiah does have a cowboy hat. It’s aptly doused in cow-print, smells like plastic and mulch. In the bathroom, Harrison adjusts its stampede strings around his chin.

He leans against the counter, pressing his thumbs to his cheeks. He pulls at his eye sockets, his skin giving like a tablecloth twisted under the heave of roasted turkey. His eyes are rimmed in scarlet—how many times has he seen Suzanna with these eyes, and do her eyes look like this now? She’s probably looking for him, calling his name out in the night like it’s a prayer she knows won’t be answered. Would he take himself to bed like this? In thirty more minutes when he guzzles a vodka soda, his answer will be absolutely.

Harrison, he mouths to himself in the mirror. The bathroom is filmy or maybe it’s him—he’s in chrysalis, bloated in his own becoming or suffocation or whatever the fuck. The thing is, he doesn’t need a god and might be a king, but he’s also a man with a pounding headache. He tries again, his mouth shifty like cornmeal, like ash: Harrison. What do kings do when they get migraines? Buy a donut? Eat a saint? His eye sockets are vacant, his cuticles spinning into one another, hair sentient from the pool. Harrison. The walls smell like Jeremiah’s hair gel, Jeremiah’s fingerprints, Jeremiah’s latest cologne. In a minute, the paint could start peeling and Harrison could pick up the chips, tack them to his jaw like they’re gold stars or little HELLO my name is stickers. HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is. Harrison. Harrison. Harrison. He kneads his cheeks like he’s sourdough, pinches his eyebrows, goes: Harrison, sticks his fist in his mouth tries again—Harrison. Jeremiah knocks on the door, says something about leaving soon, a friend waiting on them.

Harrison sinks onto his elbows, hovering closer to his reflection. If he were another man, he’d kiss himself, right? Without a thought, he does, mouth glugging against the mirror. He doesn’t need any touch but his own—not Jeremiah’s, not Lonan’s. He’s a man in love with himself, right? He’s a good dancer, never burns pancakes, isn’t afraid of spiders. What’s not to like? When he pulls back, panting, his eyes are watery and he needs a drink now, a god to abandon, a lake to drown in, a coastline to paint, a mother to cry into, a Bible to burn, a guitar string to snap, a dragon tree to kill, a father to remember, a prayer to scream, a place to close his eyes and sleep forever.

He grabs Jeremiah’s eyelash curler off the counter, crimps his lashes so hard he pinches his skin. He doesn’t care. He’s yanking open cupboards and pulling out an eyeshadow palette, smearing silver pigment onto his eyelids, under them. He’s raking a wand of black mascara through his lashes like he’s the grass buried under leaves—like this is the only way to reveal himself. And maybe this is the way, spritzing himself in Jeremiah’s vetiver or orange rinds or baby powder. Harrison. He wants to punch his nose until he bleeds. He wants to kiss himself again.

0 to 100 all the way back to 0 babe:

Harrison meets his eyes in the mirror. Is he an animal? He must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. He could touch himself right here. Or not. He’s barely a man, staring at his face not like it’s his, but like it’s someone else’s. And how tired he is of that. Being a shadow.

He is the MOMENT:

Before he exits the bathroom, he studies his sterling reflection. He’s not who he once was. No Christ, no Jacob, no Jeremiah. And he shouldn’t be. Because he’s twenty-four karat, twinkling, not just otherworldly, unforgiving, untouchable, not just a god or a man—but a trophy at last.

Biyu puts Harrison in his place lmaoo:

By the time they cab to the club, Harrison’s so high he can nearly taste the neon lights. As they slot through the front door with other partygoers like flocking geese, he blinks at the rush of it all—the women comparing press-on nails by the coat-check, the men wearing vinyl and leather and glitter, drenched in cologne and sweat.

“You’re late,” comes a voice which should be familiar to Harrison, but under the thump of bodies, sounds as generic as a bag of baby carrots.

“Fashionably late,” says Jeremiah, his arm slung around Harrison’s furred shoulders. He pulls him close, toward the person, the woman, smells like sea salt, iron, a new set of rings flaring in the blue spotlights. “You remember Harrison?”

As if on cue, Harrison lifts his eyes to Biyu’s, Jeremiah’s friend from the restaurant. Tonight, she wears a gold cowlneck dress, her lipstick the colour of rust. And something’s different about her hair—the sides of her bob shaved, which is more of a relief than he’d like to admit. She’d looked alarmingly like Reeve when they’d met, moved like her, sounded like her. Maybe he’s too high to see it now, but what does it matter—a win is a win.

Harrison tips his hat, already searching for the bar.

“The quiet one,” Biyu says.

His eyes snap back to her. Her pupils are large disks, and if he squints, almost look like they’re pulsating. “What?”

“You were quiet,” she repeats.

Don't Cha!! ft. this:

Harrison dances because he knows exactly how to. To thready vocals, he lulls his arms through the air, drags his palm down Jeremiah’s chest when an electro version of Like a Virgin comes on. On the lighted dance floor he’s nothing but rattling limbs, inelegant turns, raunchy dips. Shifting atop his head: the cowboy hat. In his hand: a vodka soda topped with a maraschino cherry. Through half of Don’t Cha, he holds the red cocktail sword between his teeth like it’s a rose, nudges it against Jeremiah’s lip as they kiss, break apart, kiss again.

“Do you think I’m quiet?” he asks between a spin, his head unspooling like a cylinder of thread. The clang of drums spikes up his throat—soon, he’ll need a refill on the drink. More weed. A crucifix to snap.

Jeremiah twirls under Harrison’s arm, a magnetic man in his tourmaline glister. He could follow any man in this club home tonight with his silver nails, his exposed collarbone. “Kiss me again,” he says, sweating, his fingers hard around Harrison’s shoulders—half from his grip, half from his rings.

Jeremiah is really too patient:

This is what he needs, a consideration of fruit and the man in front of him, all svelte limbs, acidic mouth, sharp eyeliner. As he ducks to In Da Club and shimmies to Waiting for Tonight, he digs a palm into Jeremiah’s cheek—he’s solid like limestone, burnished as bronze, his eyes amber portals like a patch of quicksand.

“Did you tell Biyu about me?” Harrison asks. His head pounds, the music too loud, swelling in his ears like an inflating airbag. He should go back to the bar now. They’ve got whiskey sours, gibsons, margaritas. If he flutters his eyelashes long enough at the bartender, maybe he’ll get a little more than a free drink—that’s fine too. Kelly Clarkson sings about praying, breaking, and he could do both in the hands of someone who smells like blood oranges, tastes like Bible paper, stares like Jesus the moment before he performs a miracle, couldn’t he?

“Focus on me,” Jeremiah says, guiding Harrison closer by the hips, so confident as his wooden Mary bracelet jolts with the movement because he’s here in this blinking room, dancing because he’s twenty-one just like Harrison, because he’s electric, alive, because he’s blinding like noonday sun, steady as a fountain cycling the same water over and over, because he’s unashamed in this brisk light, shocking like the zip of battery acid on a tongue. He doesn’t need to try, melds into the bleating crowd like he’s part of it, and he is. He smells like pomegranates, tastes like cherries the next time Harrison kisses him—Chapstick? Cocktail?—and tomorrow, he’ll rise early for a shift at Greta, slip on his navy uniform polo, his makeup untouched despite everything Harrison will do to him tonight because he’s faultless, not quiet, hair precariously puffed, nails buffed to a glassy sheen. He and Biyu might catch breakfast at dawn, bond over their glittery eyelids, their intrinsic closeness, wonder over poached eggs if he’s worth it—graceless Harrison in this cowboy hat and smudged makeup, his jacket cuffs soaked with vodka soda, his head lolling to the insistent voice of Justin Timberlake.

“Biyu thinks I’m quiet,” Harrison says, knocking back the rest of his drink, his neck cracking. He wants to scratch off his face, replace it with someone else’s. “You think I’m meek. So what is it? Do I need to get a tattoo or something?”

Jeremiah glances around the club, his irises starred by a spotlight. What does he see when he looks out at the crowd? Perhaps he recognizes half of these people—from the way he ordered at the bar to the way he slunk so easily onto the dance floor, Harrison assumes he’s been here before. And maybe it’s not just that he recognizes everyone else on the floor, but that they recognize him in return.

Cont'd but with a lot more mouths:

“Did you hear what I said?” Harrison asks.

Jeremiah’s eyes snap back to his, except there’s something hazy there, something tired. “What would a tattoo do for you?”

“I don’t know. Edge? I just think I could—”

And then Jeremiah’s turned away again, right into the arms of someone else—a tanned man with a dense mustache and olive eyes, the man going, “It’s been too long,” and Jeremiah going “It’s been too long,” their grins calcium white, flashing in Harrison’s face. He throws a hand up to his eyes, squints when a second later, the man pulls a woman toward Jeremiah, her hair cropped low and cotton candy pink. She kisses his cheek, says he looks ravishing, he looks like a comet on its way to ignite planet earth, and they’re all holding each other now, friends bopping to Gwen Stefani, admiring each other’s bracelets, thumbs, friends curving toward each other’s ears, kissing each other’s cheeks, each other’s mouths.

Harrison blinks because how many hands do they have now? Every second they seem to multiply—pink hair girl with four, Jeremiah with six. One’s tongue the other’s. Their fingertips fusing. The club fritzes around them like it’s confetti, the lights rippling into a Christmas bow and now there’s a redheaded man running his nose along Jeremiah’s neck, down Jeremiah’s shoulder, wrist, hand. Harrison had just done that back in his apartment, pinned chest-to-chest against him like a monarch fastened to a spreading board, and here Jeremiah is now, enmeshed in touch, in adoration because he should be adored—the men congregating around him now have their priorities straight. If they all got on their knees at Jeremiah’s feet, Harrison would understand. They aren’t exclusive, don’t even know each other’s last names, and besides, how can Jeremiah help how everyone magnetizes around him? Harrison can’t blame them. Jeremiah is illusory under the disco ball’s speckled light, his throat long, biteable, his eyes syrupy in his high. A woman takes him by the shoulder, but not just any woman—Biyu, and her eyes are pinched, analyzing, because she’s looking at Harrison, her glossy crimson nails on Jeremiah’s cheek, and she’s kissing him too now, her body joining the cluster, and it’s good, the way they all roll limbs to synth, the way they turn into each other’s faces and kiss, kiss, kiss. The music clangs, their mouths full of spit. The DJ says to hold your partners close, and they don’t have to. They are not simply together, not simply in chrysalis, but osmosed in their becoming.

Cont'd (GIANT sentence - CW: self harm)

A hand on Harrison’s elbow. He flinches and is surprised to see it’s Jeremiah who’s touched him. How did he get here so fast? Harrison expects a trail of blurry bodies to follow him, but where did everyone go? They’ve dashed from the club like embers scattering from a dulled fire, nowhere to be seen but dangerous anyway and weren’t they all just over there, under there, and are they lonely on the ceiling and how do they plan to get down and is it too loud in here and why is no one using their indoor voices and should he cover his ears and where is his mother now and how did Mary say I love you and did she ever dream of fleeing to Hollywood or speeding down the I-40 or telling Gabriel no and why does everyone worship a god who demands and calls it creation and what’s his name again—Harrison?—and when did his hands sprout from child to whatever he is now and should he dye his hair red, cut his wrists again and is it possible to be young and happy about it and is he still dancing, he’s still dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, and someone’s complimenting his silver eyelids and would he like them to touch him gently and is it hot in here to anyone else and does he taste blood or the ocean and is this what it feels like to die in holy light and Jeremiah’s right in front of him, unkissed, still as dark water, as Lonan in the night, and now he’s holding Harrison’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and he’s kissing him too, tastes like spearmint and chocolate lip gloss, rum and Coke, rusted metal—the mouths of everyone in this room and this isn’t so bad, how their bodies net into each other, how in one breath, Harrison’s teeth clack against Jeremiah’s, and in the next, clack against another man’s and then another’s, his stubble rough, mouth sour, a chandelier earring flailing against his cheek, and then through his ear, his hands wound into cinnamon hair and he could be kissing himself and maybe he is and doesn’t he want that, the floor gelid, the music like cotton wool, their pelvises threaded, the walls caving, their mouths locked, the floor lava, the room too bright, his headache like an earthquake, two pairs of hands rattling to the beat of this bursting room one moment, then clutched together as they follow each other to a dim bathroom.

This section was inspired by @dallonwrites' lyrics in narrative post!!! also soft Felix cameo <3

The room is electric purple, smells like grapes, sweat, flexes under Harrison’s shoes like a sandcastle collapsing, like a sinkhole swallowing a house. Bodies weave across the floor, someone lighting a joint in the corner, someone reciting Sylvia Plath into a paper bag, going, the happening of this happening, going, the earth turns now.

Harrison’s head pounds—he should’ve brought a blister pack of acetaminophen because at least then he’d have something to punch, or he should’ve punched out his own eye by now, disappeared with another man who isn’t Jeremiah and didn’t he try, and where is the man with cinnamon hair now? Harrison turns to look for him, but the room ripples with his movement, shirring in staccato clacks around him like a shaken rice maraca. He’d hoped he’d write his number on a man’s wrist tonight even though he doesn’t have a cell phone—he’d hoped he’d go home with someone who shouts the lyrics to Madonna’s Everybody in twilight’s stillness, a man who’d let the DJ shake him, a man who’d let the music take him. And he could do all of that with Jeremiah—Jeremiah who probably did those things at the party Harrison wasn’t invited to, Jeremiah who knows how to pass off frozen spanakopita as homemade because he’s a good host, Jeremiah who knows how to kick people out of his apartment with kindness, Jeremiah who’s built to be kissed, to be loved. And where is he now? In the artificial light, Harrison hunts for him too—but he’s not in the unhinging bathroom stalls, not in the teal grout, the running sinks, and maybe he never existed at all, missing like Jesus in the tomb—body gone, body gone, body gone.

Cont'd BODY BACK BODY BACK BODY BACK:

Harrison rubs his eyes. His ears still ring from the clatter outside, and he stands at the bathroom’s entrance like a child who’s lost his mother in the mall. Should he sit down? A group of girls form a ring on the floor, chant about Leos, Britney, men. Someone shuffles in past him, knocks into his shoulder by accident, apologizes over and over, their hands clutched against his face—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.

He yanks away. Don’t touch me, he wants to say, I don’t want to be touched ever again, but by the time he’s located his mouth, his eyes pulsing to a hi-hat, his nose burning on a cloud of cherry smoke, the person’s gone too. He presses his fingers to his eyes, wishes for a soft bed, a place to land, but then he’s rocking forward, right into someone else.

At first, they just stare at each other. The man’s got the same look in his eye—something gilt, something feral, an identical fear in his mouth. Harrison blinks hard, and the man does too—not a man, actually, but his own reflection.

He approaches the mirror, jolts at the way he touches himself—more carefully than he’s ever been touched before. Who are you? he wants to say. He’d like to leave this place now, the club, Las Vegas, the earth. He’d like to buy himself a pet tarantula, run off a cliffside, eat a tub of ice cream with his bare hands. Why did he come here again? His mind is so quiet. This could be peace. But who is he? In Jeremiah’s bathroom he knew, but now there’s this stranger ahead of him, the person who must be him—someone’s chandelier earring grazing his jaw, the cowboy hat lopsided, mascara running down his cheeks even though he hasn’t cried. Where did you go? he mouths, but he knows. He’s disappeared also like Jesus in the tomb, his limbs vanishing one by one, his skin melting off his hands—body gone, body gone, body gone. He grabs his cheeks, panicked because he’s on fire, gold tossed into the crucible. He’s going to burn to ash. He’s going to need a burial soon. His face has been stolen, his breastbone and knuckles too. A month ago, someone spat him into a basket like his body was ripe for the offertory—body gone, body gone, body gone.

“Back,” Harrison says, nose grazing the spattered mirror. His chest swells, and maybe he is burning, and maybe he’s right here, hidden somewhere in the pinprick of his reflection. “Back,” he repeats. He isn’t thoughtful. He isn’t profound. Maybe that’s fine. He squeezes his tear-duct, sticks out his tongue. He’ll die eventually, let his body disappear, but not right now. “Body back, body back, body back.”

Cont'd ft. Harry-something (CW: mild violence):

“I know you.”

Harrison whips around. In front of him stands a redheaded man—the same redhead who’d held Jeremiah close on the dance floor, trailed his oily nose along his neck. He wears a pair of browline sunglasses, a black vinyl vest draped with silver chains. He holds a clove, its smoke clouding the ruby pinging off his ring finger, his mouth ghosted with what looks like red lipstick.

“What?” Harrison says, jumping when the bathroom door clangs open and in come two more women. He lifts his fingers to his mouth, pulls up a hangnail until it stings.

“I saw you out there,” says the man, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Harry-something?” He looks like a scarlet ibis, strangely translucent. “JJ’s friend.”

Harrison digs his fingertips into his eye socket. His head feels like it’s been cleaved with an axe. “Harrison.”

Redhead smiles, blows smoke into Harrison’s face. “What’d you say?”

“My name is Harrison.”

“I’m Perry,” he says, and Harrison wouldn’t give a fuck if his name was Matt Dillon or Rob Lowe or Nash Baker because he’s blowing smoke into his face again, his clove flailing like a dislocated finger. He gestures to Harrison’s outfit, nodding. “You’re like a one man show.”

Harrison covers his eyes. Maybe he can find a dark hole in this club to dive into, somewhere no one will find him again. “What does that mean?”

Perry’s smile falters momentarily, but then it’s back, all teeth, no lips. “You’ve got this flair. You ever been told that? Weird, but good, it’s—”

The second he purses his lips to blow out more smoke, Harrison grabs him by the throat, pulls him so close he can see a constellation of blackheads on his chin, feel his heart hammering.

Perry yelps, nearly losing his hold on the clove altogether.

Harrison arcs his jaw around his ear. He smells like orchids, freshwater. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Cont'd - Harrison is weird :)

Perry laughs, the sound strangled beneath Harrison’s grip. Smoke fumbles out of his mouth like worms. He really does look like a bird, which in this case, isn’t a good thing. “Noted.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“You have a hand around my throat.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Well, I'll leave it there lmao!!! Sorry I subjected you to this man, but hope you enjoyed this gigantic update!

FIN. MAGNUM OPUS COMPLETE!

See you soon!

Rachel

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #writerblr #writingupdates #ohhhh harrison #this was so hard to write because of all his bad decisions but also SO FUN FOR THE SAME REASON #PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK IT'S BEEN ME AND THIS CHAPTER FOR A MONTH ALONE I NEED VALIDATION <3 #next chapter perry gets his moped STOLEN (I wonder by who...)#bodyback

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