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rocketmuse · 3 years

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I thought I'd share my playlist for the anniversary of the boathouse kiss. :)

Song translations, MANY thoughts, and timeline under the break.

Noise warning for song 19, Hinahanap-Hanap Kita. 4:23 to the end. Loud high pitched beeps.

YouTube music version to be made soon.

Translations for foreign songs:

Ewan [Dunno] — Apo Hiking Society — Filipino/Tagalog

Amour plastique [Plastic love] — Videoclub — French

Panalangin [Prayer] — Apo Hiking Society/Moonstar88 — Filipino/Tagalog

Hinahanap-Hanap Kita [I'm Looking For You] — Rivermaya — Filipino/Tagalog

This is a collaborative playlist made with my friend.

Thought Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy would be a good starter song. Something about the music. Represents a good start of Alec persuing Maurice, like, hey, I can be yours... Whatcha doin'?

I added Puppy Princess because of the chorus but I know some people don't like that song so... You can skip if you'd like. KISS MEEEEE KIISS ME WITH YIIR EYESSS CLOSED . ALL I WANT IS YOU YEAH YOU. TELL ME I'M NOT FUNNY TELL ME I'M LEGIIIIT

Ewan. OH MY GOD this song is so them. Alec cares for Maurice, and doesn't like not being taken seriously or being treated badly and brushed off.

"I don't know why you're like that, you're difficult to talk to and you're a snob" COME ON IS THAT NOT THEM — Just a smile from you, and I'll be in heaven. Please give me a response, anything but "No idea"... What a perfect representation of Alec's continuous persuit of Maurice, always talking, always trying...

I could go on with every lyric.

Edit: I just realised this song fits so well for Alec's letters and meeting at the museum. Must resist the urge to add the same exact track twice.

So about Touch Me... Some of the lyrics apply better in other versions. Spotify just has this version tho. Touch me, just like that.

All I've Ever Known. Maurice discovered so much that night about touch and sharing and being with someone. He wants to be with Alec. "All I've ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you too. [Hold you close, I don't wanna ever have to let you go. Hold you tight, I don't wanna to back to the lonely life.]" Alec opened up his eyes and he'll never be the same.

Can't Help Falling in Love With You. 'Did you ever dream you'd a friend, Alec? ... Someone to last your whole life...' 'Alec, you're a dear fellow and we've been very happy.'

I'd Like To Walk Around In Your Mind was added from Maurice's perspective. Perhaps it fits Alec too...

I think Love At First Sight has the double meaning of the literal title, as well as "wouldn't you like to kiss her" perhaps being... Something Maurice would hear.

I Don't Dance. Based on this post/edit. Please watch this video oh my God.

Pink in the Night. Alec yearns for Maurice in the boathouse. He hasn't come. He hears his heart breaking tonight.

Every lyric is perhaps pulled straight from Alec's brain, to be honest. I remember seeing a post with this song in other contexts with them too. So yes, a few meanings.

Amour plastique. Alec reminiscences on the night in the Russet room. Why hasn't he come?

In my mind, everything goes wild. I lose myself in your eyes. I drown myself in the vagueness of your loving gaze.

And at night I cry tears that stream down my cheeks. I think of you only when the days ends, only when my sad demons descend upon my mind, into the bottomless abyss.

Waiting in the boathouse at night, when the day ends.

I ring out in kisses all down your chest. Lost in the avalanche of my heart astray. Who are you? Where are you?

The moments of then repeat in his mind. Where is Maurice?

I suppose Hopelessly Devoted To You and I'm A Fool To Want You are self explanatory. Maurice should really come... Alec really toughed it out, 2 days he spent in the boathouse, really wanted to see Maurice, really knew they had something, and doesn't want to be treated like a dog. Generally, his 1st letter.

Moon Song. My friend said they added it as a general love song. — Why do you treat me like this? Why didn't you come to the boathouse? — Alec's 2nd letter as a whole. Plus bits of 1st.

And you pushed me in, and now my feet can't touch the bottom of you. ... So I will wait for the next time you want me, like a dog with a bird at your door.

Ewan would fit here tbh.

Panalangin. My only prayer in this lifetime: to be beside you, to be together with you, that's my prayer.

"I since cricket match do long to ... place both arms round you and share with you, the above now seems sweeter than words can say."

And this heart won't allow if you will be away from me, my love, please listen.

It also fits the end of museum.

I Want You. Maurice, can you come to the boathouse already? Alec has no power to teleport you there. I hold one card that I can't use.

I found you. I found the door, but when I stepped through, there was no floor. He found Maurice, bit he's not being here for Alec.

You're coming back And it's the end of the world We're starting over And I love you, darling And I am done, dear

Alec wishes this would happen. Also, he does come back later and they love again over, and "it is finished".

Credit for suggesting the next two songs goes to @beatle-capaldi!!! He also wrote was in quotations!

English Summer Rain

The Most Radical Thing To Do

Hinahanap-Hanap Kita. 1st letter, he's looking for Maurice. Thinking about them together.

In my thoughts and dreams, in every turn of destiny, I look for you. Also applies to that hotel/post-hotel feeling. I look for you, even if I try to forget you, saying goodbye, looking back...

Wildest Dreams. They think a lot of each other. They share once more. But they must say goodbye. Alec saw this coming. Maurice hopes that Alec will remember him like this.

I Hear a Symphony. Alec truly opened up Maurice's eyes. Maurice was meant to be with him. He helped Maurice, changed his life. But now Alec is leaving on ship... Or is he? The symphony leads into...

An orchestral sountrack. The Boathouse. Unfortunately the Maurice soundtrack is not on spotify. It's on my personal YouTube music version. I added it because it just captures the boathouse the only way the sountrack itself can.

The Word of Your Body (Reprise). MLM people have moment of romantic tension, which culminates in confessions of love. Just had to add it. "Haven't you heard the word of your body?" perfectly describes Alec gifting and showing Maurice the wonder of truest physical affection and love. He lets Maurice be okay with himself, and again, changes everything. Every lyric is perfect.

Also, sorry JBW, I like other versions more... Too bad Spotify is mean.

I See The Light. Yeah. Every lyric. Maurice is Rapunzel. Movie Blond too. Both the morning at Russet room and the museum. And the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything is different, now that I see you. "By now they were in love with each other consciously."...

Suddenly Seymour. Suddenly see more, yeah? Clive = ass and someone gives him affection for once, wow! Sidenote, I want to sing this with them and their accents... Suddenly SCUDDER...

Helpless. Musical theatre songs seem to be good retellings of their love story. It's why they belong in post boathouse. Summaries and retellings. They're also good at conveying love they'd feel for each other in general, all times ever. Like loving men, retelling a story.

I'll Cover You. Cute love song feat. gays. I like to imagine them dancing around, declaring their love and devotion for each other. Walking and dancing around like in the original scene, sometime post canon. In my own imagination, I thought of Alec as Angel and Maurice (Christopher) as Collins.

Video Games. They must love spending time together. I thought this to be Maurice POV. Only worth living if somebody is loving you I mean, come on.

It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do. I tell you all the time, heaven is a place on Earth with you.

Un sospiro. I headcanon that Maurice picks up the piano and plays for Alec. Perhaps he picked it up bc of/after Clive, but now can play it for someone who gives a shit.

Something about the melody reminds me of them. And then it gets more intense... A bit like the passions of love, showing up in sharing and touch and more, too.

Liebestraum. I mean, it means love dream/dream of love. I just had to. Also I just like Liszt.

Take Me Up With You, Dearie. This song is just so sweet... So soft... Edwardian to boot... I love how quintessentially 1909 it is. Discovered it in a YT video. The thought of them getting married makes me cry. This song in general makes me want to cry, it's so romantic, tender, and exudes my favourite era...

Let us float, float, float through the clouds, and just have a lot of fun. We'll go up, up, up as two and then come down as one.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder. We Belong Together. I always imagine Maurice and Alec slowdancing to songs that come on the radio together, when the 1950s hits... Alec probably rests his head on his shoulder as this plays and they dance...

I'm using a lot of ellipses, am I secretly Rupert Graves?

Welcome to the 70s and 80s. They love dancing together and being with each other. Now, Panalangin can be a happy song. My only prayer for this lifetime ... To be together with you. And this heart won't allow if you will be away from me.

Just the Two of Us. What a nice, vibey song. Great title, great scenario of them dancing to this...

Tiny Dancer. Your Song. MLM people in the 70s + Radio, being happy and in love with each other. — I just thought I should add some Elton. A different friend, and I, like him. Maurice sings to Alec, "And you can tell everybody this is your song." That I put down in words how wonderful life is with you in the world.

Electric Love. Fun fact: this song got me to share the playlist. Got me thinking about them and their anniversary again. The funky busy instrumental describes well their passionate love. The highs of electric LOOOOOOVE describe the intensity of them.

Alt text continued: themselves together under and the love. And the love. The song has its own tension and it perfectly pictures their own tension. So yeah, this is THEIR song quite literally.

Sorry if my music taste is perhaps basic. I just made it for when I hear songs that are Them.

Falling for Ya. Alec falls for Maurice. "I saw you when you first drove up, Mr Hall..." Something about Maurice, right? Plus really nice vintage vibes with the music. The bit about Into your arms and it's a secure sure sounds like Maurice. Awh, they're falling for *each other*...

Rainbow Connections. Gay and bi people. Marriage. Everything that Maurice and Alec went through to get here, where they were meant to be. Clive. Working for Clive. Leading up to now.

All the things that had to go right, all the things that had to go wrong, that lead us to the place where we were going all along.

On the YT version there's a soft/jazzy cover of Panalangin here. Because they're old and spending time together and being happy. What a throwback, a defined meaning in their lives over time.

Still Into You. After all these decades... Old and grown, together... True soulmates... Two men can defy the world... Maurice and Alec still roam the greenwood. Imagine Maurice meeting Alec's mom in this context. If only.

Postmodern Jukebox cover, because they are a quintessentially 20th century couple. They exude vintage.

Some piano playing for Alec. Soft, tender, romantic, emotional, true. Feels like nighttime. Feels like Maurice and Alec. And a throwback to the pre 1914 world as well. Claire de Lune feels like... A credits of life piece. Time spent in the early 1980s. Nocturne feels like that too, but more romantic. Smidge less nighttime. Ah yes, Gymnopédies. The truest credits feel of them all. None of these actually are credits for Maurice and Alec, but I struggle to find the word for this feeling. But yeah. These all have Them vibes to me. Piano of the time just does I suppose. Glad to be reminded of them at any time.

What a long playlist. Like going through almost their whole lives together. 1:52 hrs. Almost like a movie. Imagine that. A full movie of THEIR lives... But leaving to the imagination was a good thing. Led to this such action. Thank you E.M. Forster.

Timeline:

1. Pendersleigh

4. & 5. Russet Room. Night, then Morning

9. Cricket

10. Boathouse Nights

18. The Museum

20. The Hotel

21. After

23. The Boathouse

24. They Still Roam the Greenwood

I just like to imagine them dancing to songs on the radio, for decades to come...

#maurice 1987 #maurice 1914 #maurice #maurice hall #alec scudder #Spotify

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zwritestuff · 4 years

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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Four) - Kyara

A/N: HELLO I AM ALIVE AND WELL. This chapter was such a bitch to write, I swear I have more deleted scenes that actual scenes. A million thanks to Emerald ( @fromthenorthernskies ) for putting up with be while writing this and beta-ing, and to Ella ( @dawningofdrag ) for correcting the Tagalog bit. I love you both very much.

Read On AO3.

***

“Kyne, if you pinch me again, I swear to god—” Kiara’s threat is interrupted by a yelp, and a giggle from Kyne’s end as she secures the pin on the fabric.

“If only you would stay still, I wouldn’t pinch you while trying to make some adjustments,” Kyne says simply, standing up and briefly inspecting the waist area. “Does that feel tight enough?” She asks, walking around Kiara, who just nods, absent-mindedly running her hands around her torso.

She’s not sure what time it is, only knows that the night has arrived hours ago and there’s been a soft rain falling for half of that time. It’s hard to notice the passing of time when she’s with Kyne, talking and laughing and being closer than she ever imagined, when she puts her hands firmly on her body to make arrangements or to keep her still - it’s hard to notice reality altogether.

Kiara goes to the bathroom to take off the dress, and as she’s slipping back into her own clothes, she hears how the rain starts pouring harder and harder. She sees a streak of light in the sky from the tiny window, followed by thunder. She jumps slightly, mumbling a curse as she leaves the bathroom and re-joins Kyne in the living room, who’s quickly closing the windows.

“And the weatherman said we’d have a week without rain,” Kiara says, leaving the dress on the couch. “What time is it, anyway?” She asks, looking around for her phone.

“Like 2 a.m.,” Kyne quickly replies, taking the dress and placing it over the coffee table, flopping onto the couch right away. “How did it get so late? Jesus. I didn’t even notice.” She rubs her face with the back of her palms, stifling a yawn. “You wanna eat something? I have leftover lasagna from yesterday, or I have enough cheese to make pizza if you want—”

“I think I should leave before it gets worse,” she interrupts Kyne, fetching her jacket from the rack. She turns to see her, finding her with a frown on her face as she fidgets with her hands.

“Y’know, it really is late, the storm is getting pretty bad by the second, but you live half across the city. I really wouldn’t mind if you stayed the night, y’know.”

Kiara blinks repeatedly, before she realizes what Kyne just said. She feels her face heat up, and it takes her a moment to manage a sentence without stuttering. The offer had taken her completely by surprise.

“I don’t wanna bother you, it’s fine,” she says, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.

“You’re not a bother,” Kyne is quick to reply, shifting on the couch and staring at Kiara with a gentle smile. “I mean it, you can stay here.”

There’s silence for a moment, in which Kiara thinks of a hundred and one excuses to give Kyne to not stay the night. She’s no stranger to running away after a hookup, but this is different in all ways possible, and the way Kyne’s looking at her, silently hoping she’ll accept with that small smile on her face - it’s hard to say no.

Kiara sighs, rubbing her temples as she hangs up her jacket on the rack again and tells Kyne she’ll take the couch. Kyne gives her a toothy smile, saying she would never let her sleep in her room, anyway - she wants to have some dignity left after this, thank you very much.

“My parents would probably scold me and tell me to give you my room, but it’s a hot mess in every way possible,” she tells her over their dinner: heated lasagna and coca cola. “‘Sides, I have a very complex system for finding things, and I would prefer to keep it a secret.” Kiara cocks an amused brow, sipping on her drink.

“I didn’t have you as the type to be messy,” she comments, resting her chin on her palm. Kyne rolls her eyes slightly, stuffing her mouth with the last bit of the lasagna.

“There are many things you don’t know about me.” She winks at her cheekily, proceeding to leave the dishes in the sink, telling Kiara to just leave it like that, she’ll clean up tomorrow. Right now, all she wants to do is get a good night of sleep. But her words are running through Kiara’s mind: she’s not exactly wrong - there are a lot of things she doesn’t know about Kyne, and there are a lot of things she’s discovered in such a short time. She’s curious about what else there’s to unravel regarding Kyne’s personality and life, and she’s never been particularly patient, but for her, she guesses she can make an exception.

Kyne brings her pillows and a blanket, trying to make the couch as comfortable as she can, and she assures her that everything is good, until they realize something. Kiara’s clothes aren’t precisely comfortable to sleep in.

They stare for a moment, before Kyne sighs, mumbling something Kiara can’t quite catch and leaves for a moment, only to come back with a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, saying she can wear them if she wants. Kiara bites back a smile when she notices the rosy tone of her cheeks as she hands her the clothes.

“I’m gonna go sleep now, you can change in the bathroom, or here, I don’t know, that’s up to you, and, uh, if you need a charger I have a spare one in this drawer,” she rambles a little, pointing at the drawer. Kiara just thanks her with a polite smile, amused at the rare sight of a flustered Kyne. “Good night, Kiki.”

Kiara’s a little thrown off when she hears the nickname come out of Kyne’s lips for the first time, but smiles nonetheless, “Good night, Kyne.” They smile at each other for a moment before Kyne leaves to her room, and Kiara is left standing alone in the living room.

She takes a deep breath and gets changed, immediately being hit with the smell of vanilla emanating from the clothes. She smiles a little, breathing in the scent as she lies on the couch.

The sleeping part doesn’t come easy, mostly, she supposes, because she’s at Kyne’s place, on her couch, and all the photos of Kyne hanging from the walls that are looking down on her, somehow reminding her that this wasn’t part of the plan and it will only make things more awkward once it’s time to call their scheme off. So she does the only logical thing she can think of: texting Rita and Tynomi.

They have a group chat that’s mostly for talking shit about other co-workers, sending files and, in Tynomi’s case, to use it as a replacement for the notes app. Neither of the three uses it much outside work hours, but now, it really comes in-handy.

So, you guys won’t believe this, she prefaces, hitting send way too quickly; she doesn’t think either of them are up, anyway.

That’s where she’s wrong.

Tynomi answers after some moments, while Kiara is still typing, and Rita follows suit. Kiara deletes what she had just typed to ask them what they are doing up at these hours.

Kiara snorts, re-typing her whole message with odd excitement.

Rita and Tynomi answer almost immediately to Kiara’s surprise, apparently she’s caught their attention. She takes a deep breath before replying; she knows they’ll freak out and take things out of context before she has an option of explaining, it’s their thing. Especially considering they’ve taken every opportunity they have to pester her about Kyne.

She bites back a giggle as she hits send on a meme, completely flustered at the conversation going on - Tynomi’s “you don’t usually stay the night” hits too close home, but, she reminds herself, this is different. She’ll probably forget this happened in a couple months, once they’ve broken up and this turns into a funny story they can confide to their friends.

Kiara talks to them until she’s running out of battery, and has to inevitably go to sleep, not without fetching Kyne’s charger and setting it aside.

Rita and Tynomi’s words linger on her mind before she finally falls asleep, and Kiara wonders for a split second what it’d be like if she were actually dating Kyne. She supposess not much would change, not really.

***

Kiara isn’t woken up by the sun, the birds chirping, or any of that - rather, it’s the noise coming from the kitchen that makes her reluctantly wake up. For a moment she forgets where she is, until she hears Kyne’s voice and remembers she had been persuaded to stay the night. She rubs her eyelids, trying to shake off the sleepiness, and unwillingly gets up to meet Kyne at the kitchen.

It’s tiny, and she easily finds her perched against the counter, wearing a worn out tank top and shorts, glancing at the coffee machine with annoyance, muttering things under her breath as she fidgets with her hair. Kiara can't believe she has the audacity to look good just woken up.

“Hey, mornin’,” she greets, and Kyne jumps a little, before lazily smiling at her, rubbing her eyelids.

“Gandang umaga,” she says, dragging the last A. “If you want coffee, may tasas diyan sa cabinet, though you should take a seat, this coffee machine is shit, kainis eh, tagal bago makagawa ng kape,” Kyne mutters with a growl, not realizing the inquisitive look Kiara is giving her.

They stare at each other for a moment, Kiara cocks an amused brow, perching herself against the doorframe, before Kyne realizes she clearly doesn't know Tagalog.

“Sorry, I do that a lot, mixing Tagalog and English I mean. I can't properly function without my morning coffee,” she explains, stifling a yawn. She stands on her tiptoes to reach a cupboard, and Kiara quickly approaches her from behind, fetching two mugs with ease, setting it on the counter. Kyne turns to see her with a slight frown. “I could reach for it without help,” Kyne says, with an annoyed tone that just causes Kiara to giggle. She mumbles something else under her breath that Kiara can’t quite catch, both because the noise coffee machine makes and because she can’t understand Tagalog.

“Whatever you say.” She puts her palms up in surrender and watches as Kyne pours the coffee in the mugs, telling her to grab them and set them on the table while she makes toasts.

They move with ease around the kitchen, despite the lack of space making them bump into the other more than once, mostly because they’re sleep deprived, but Kiara can clearly see how Kyne evades her gaze, how she keeps herself busy to not have to make small talk. Kiara tries not to think much about it, maybe having her there threw her off a little from her morning routine - either way, it’s too early to overthink.

Well, she’s not exactly sure what time it is, but it’s not like it matters, anyway; not when she’s with Kyne.

They make breakfast together, anticipating the other’s movements with ease and silently enjoying each other’s company. It’s homey, and peaceful, and surely it’ll be the last moment of peace they have together before all hell breaks loose at 8 p.m., once they arrive to the Starzy Ball and Kiara has to put up her cutthroat business woman facade while Kyne clings from her arm, until they inevitably have to meet Kiara’s parents - she’s been, simultaneously, dreading this day and anticipating it with excitement bubbling up in her stomach.

Maybe it’s just the spending time with Kyne part that she doesn’t mind at all, the part where they gossip and snicker about the rest of the people at the ball while they eat various fancy snacks - the part where fancy balls are tolerable for once, not because they’re more bearable, but because she has Kyne to make them better.

Once they’re done with breakfast, having cleaned the mugs and last night’s dirty dishes while they listened to one of Kiara’s random playlists, Kyne asks her if she wants to join her in with her skincare routine, though really, it’s just a facemask she bought per one of her friends’ recommendation and she has used ever since. Kiara accepts happily, but in hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have; Kyne delicately but firmly takes her face in one of her hands, and with the other, she applies the creamy mask with an old brush.

They’re sitting in Kyne’s living room, and their faces aren’t even that close, but Kiara feels as if there’s not enough air in the room, as her heart plummets against her ears and all she can do is try to keep her cool as Kyne gently traces the pattern of her face.

Yet Kiara can’t quite put two and two together, though.

She leaves Kyne’s apartment two hours after, with a dress that fits her like a glove and a weird feeling that’s settled in her chest. Kyne tried to persuade her to stay for lunch, since it was almost time for it anyway, but she’s spent too much time at her place already, and she doesn’t want to bother her anymore.

Despite Kyne saying that she likes her company, Kiara can’t help but feel weirdly uneased, especially when she spots Kyne stealing glances at her out of the corner of her eye, with an indecipherable look.

She can only hope things go smoothly tonight.

***

The hours pass too slowly for Kiara’s liking, and she finds herself wandering around her own apartment, bored out of her mind, more than once throughout the afternoon.

She eats lunch alone, ordering takeout from a nearby restaurant and planting herself in front of her TV, flickering through Netflix’s catalogue, searching for something that can set her mind off Kyne, but most movies bore her even more if that’s possible, and the shows she usually re watches with a smile on her face aren’t cutting it either.

She texts Rita and Tynomi throughout the day, not mentioning at all what she’s feeling, because the last thing she needs now is those two on her case. Instead, she just fills them in on what happened in the last hours.

Tynomi says it wouldn’t surprise her if they end up dating for real, Rita agrees, and Kiara only sends them eye rolling emojis.

Kiara is many things, but she’s not delusional enough to believe they’ll end up in a real relationship - she thought that once, way before Kyne appeared in her life, and things didn’t end up well. It doesn’t matter how well it looks like they get along, Kiara won’t take that risk again.

She rubs her eyelids, deciding that taking a shower and a nap wouldn’t hurt.

***

Before Kiara can even stop to realize what’s happening, to overthink everything one last time, she’s holding the door open for Kyne as she slides in the passenger seat, ready to head to the ball and meet her parents. Admittedly, focusing just on the road is simply too difficult for Kiara, who can’t help but to steal glances at Kyne every other second.

She looks mesmerizing, even more than normal - her suits of every color of the rainbow, high ponytail and sharp eyeliner she always wears to the office are something Kiara’s become used to, but that doesn’t mean she’s any less radiant. Though this isn’t the first time she sees her wearing this dress, it sure is the first time she sees Kyne in a full face of makeup, with her hair down in soft waves and killer heels.

She’s stunning, and just looking at her knocks the air out of Kiara’s lungs. Kiara hopes and prays that helps for acting like a couple in love.

They make small talk while Kiara drives, soothing each other’s nerves with encouraging words disguised as playful banter, and though Kiara was scared for a second to give Kyne the aux cord, she forgets about it as soon as Donna Summer starts playing.

Kyne loudly sings the lyrics to Bad Girls, making Kiara laugh as loud as her, and it makes the drive go by in the blink of an eye - almost as if on cue, once the playlist ends, Kiara pulls up one block away from where the venue is, saying unprompted that’s because she knows it must be packed and it’d be a nightmare to get out of by the end of the night.

Her hands tremble as she turns off the engine, her nerves and self doubt suddenly kicking in. Would she be able to pull this off without making it too obvious it was false, thus embarrassing both of them? She feels Kyne give her shoulder a squeeze, interrupting her train of thought, looking at her with a feeling she can’t quite put a finger on.

“Listen, I’m as scared as you are, but I’m never going to have any other occasion to wear this dress, so.” She shrugs, leaving the sentence in the air, smiling slightly. “We better get walking, ‘cause I was promised food, and I’m getting hungry,” she jokes to lighten up the mood, and Kiara smiles back.

They walk in silence, and at some point Kyne intertwines their hands, giving Kiara’s hand a little squeeze. It’s a little gesture, but it makes her breath hitch in her throat, her heart beating faster and faster with every step they take.

Once they’re in the queue to enter, Kiara pulls out her phone from the pockets in her dress to shoot her parents a message, telling them that they’re waiting outside. She feels Kyne tug at her arm while her stare is glued to her phone, so she hums noncommittally.

“I thought this would be more… Fancy, y’know. I feel as if I’m on my senior prom all over again,” she mutters, close to her ear so she’s the only one that hears. Kiara involuntarily snorts, putting her phone away and turning to see Kyne, who’s shamelessly looking around the queue, judging everyone’s clothes.

“Not everyone can have great taste like you,” she playfully replies, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from her.

Once they reach the front, Kiara pulls out their invitation envelopes and they’re quickly let in, and she can’t help but to smile when Kyne looks around the venue, taking everything in and squeezing her hand. She squeezes right back as she guides them through the sea of people, stopping every so often to greet people that she knows because of her parents.

When Kiara finally spots her mother among the crowd, her stomach flips, stopping in her tracks to look back at Kyne, who looks as anxious as her, practically wanting to go anywhere but near Kiara’s parents - she can’t blame her, really; at the end of the day, they’re still her bosses.

“It’ll be alright,” Kiara manages to say, trying to convince herself more than anything. “They’re nice people, they’ll like you, like I do,” she assures her. Kyne cocks a brow, a cheeky smile blooming in her face as Kiara’s cheeks heat up when she realizes what she just said. “No, I mean— you know what I meant.”

Kyne giggles, swinging their hands. “Yeah, I know,” she replies simply, “Let’s go, I’m eager to get fired.” Her faux sweet delivery makes Kiara laugh, easing the nerves as they walk up to her parents.

Her mother spots them before her dad, quickly making her way towards them with a huge smile on her face, stare fixated on Kyne and their intertwined hands. Sweat prickles the back on Kiara’s head, but it’s too late to back down or run away, so she just gulps and allows her to hug her tight before wrapping Kyne in another hug.

“Hi, darling! Kyne, right? I’m Rebecca, and it’s great to finally meet you!” She chirps excitedly, the smile never leaving her face. Kyne briefly glances at Kiara before returning the smile and the pleasantries. “Honey, let’s go find your dad, shall we? I know he’s dying to meet you too.” She motions at them to follow her and they follow suit, their hands finding each other again.

Though Kyne didn’t exactly know Kiara’s mom before, she sure as hell has seen Kiara’s dad around the company, but never actually met him. Once they find him, the squeeze she gives her almost makes Kiara yelp, but she reminds herself that she dragged them here, so really, she can’t complain.

“Papa, this is my girlfriend, Kyne,” Kiara says, her stomach flips again when she addresses Kyne as her girlfriend for the first time. She knows it’s fake, but she can’t help the fuzzy feeling that spreads in her chest.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Kyne greets with a smile, awkwardly sticking her hand out to shake. Kiara’s dad smiles gently, accepting the handshake.

“It’s good to meet you too, my daughter has told me lots of great things about you,” he says, and Kyne immediately turns to look at Kiara with a sneaky smile, probably wondering what she’s said about her.

It doesn’t take long before they’re asking Kyne about her job at the company, about herself, her family; Rebecca does most of the questioning, eager to know more about her supposed new daughter-in-law, while her husband just nods, talking every so often.

So far, things are going well, and it seems like they’ll be able to pull this off successfully - they have the right amount of chemistry, and Kiara finds it easy to naturally place an arm around Kyne’s waist at some point during the night. Though Kyne jumps at the contact, she quickly relaxes into it, and Kiara figures that’s just her going along with it to not seem suspicious.

The only part that’s proving difficult is not getting bored out of her mind while talking to the other guests, most of which her parents know one way or another, and thus she’s forced to interact with them. Some look at her hand wrapped around Kyne’s waist with an eyebrow cocked, curiosity in their gaze as they bite their tongue to avoid asking a stupid question.

Some do ask questions, wonder if she’s Kiara’s girlfriend with faux politeness she’s all too familiar with, inquiring afterwards how they met. The looks on their faces always change when Kyne replies that she works for her company before Kiara can say anything, a fake smile plastered on her face as she watches how they probably wonder if she’s a golddigger.

“At least one of us is having fun,” Kiara says ironically, while they’re getting snacks from one of the tables near the walls. Kyne hums, her mouth full of appetizers.

“I mean, if you think about it, I’m never going to see these people again, so what’s the matter?” She shrugs, reaching for more appetizers. Though it’s technically true, that statement makes Kiara feel weirdly uneasy, but she pushes those feelings away.

Truth be told, the only reason the night is bearable is because Kyne runs her mouth a lot more than Kiara thought, with her deadpan humor that no one but Kiara seems to understand. She only gets chattier and chattier as she drowns glass after glass of champagne, saying she’s drinking in Kiara’s name since she can’t drink tonight.

At some point, Kiara’s arm finds her way around Kyne’s waist again, when she comments that she’s starting to feel a little lightheaded. It was almost instant, and this time around, Kyne didn’t even flinch at the contact. Kiara, again, thought nothing of it.

Aside from meeting Anastarzia and her kooky, weird secretary that wore a suit with mismatched colors - Jimbo, if they heard correctly - nothing really exciting happened. Sure, the food and the drinks were nice, and Kyne was having the time of her life sending photos after photos to her friends’ group chat with a shit-eating grin. She takes a lot of dorky selfies with unflattering angles, usually pulling Kiara into the frame, and it takes a lot of her willpower to not laugh loudly at Kyne’s faces.

More than a couple hours have probably passed, though they’re nowhere near the end of the event, when Kiara feels Kyne tug at her arm while they’re pretending to be interested in a conversation they were dragged into.

“I don’t know how to tell you this nicely,” Kyne begins, settling her chin on Kiara’s shoulder, speaking softly enough so only she can hear. “But I’m bored out of my mind,” her faux sweet delivery, along with the flutter of her eyelashes, makes Kiara chuckle.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” She asks softly, as Kyne looks up at her with a blank expression.

“Let’s go to McDonalds, I’m hungry,” she suggests, her expression lightning up almost immediately. Kiara laughs wholeheartedly this time - she spent the whole night devouring those appetizers! Almost as if she can read her mind, she continues, “Listen, it’s not my fault those appetizers can’t satisfy me. Rich people's food is lame, and I know you’re hungry too,” Kyne states, matter-of-factly.

Well, she can’t really argue with that - she does feel a little hungry, despite all the snacks she ate. And, if she’s being honest, she appreciates the excuse to leave, so she finds her parents to quickly bid them goodbye, saying Kyne has a headache and wants to leave. Her mother makes Kiara promise she’ll bring Kyne to the family dinners soon, and he echoes the sentiment. She forces a smile and falsely promises she will, turning around as Kyne tells them again it was really nice to meet them.

“I think they liked me,” she comments, latching onto Kiara’s arm to not stumble with her own feet. “Who would’ve thought Antoine Schatzi would even know my name!” She giggles, resting her head against Kiara’s shoulder again. And Kiara knows she’s more than tipsy, that this is all pretend, but the warm feeling that spreads through her chest at the contact is everything but fake.

***

Though it’s fairly late, there’s still people inside the nearest McDonald's Kiara could find on Google Maps, so they resolve to just order through the drive through - even if she had no problem eating in a fancy gown and a full-face of makeup, the decision was more due to Kyne’s inability to walk straight. Crowded places weren’t exactly good if she wanted to keep Kyne from falling flat on her face.

Even though Kyne was the one that suggested they go to McDonald’s, her brain short-circuited for a moment while ordering, asking a tad too loud if she could have one of those paper crowns with her order, before remembering that’s a Burger King thing. Kiara just ordered a cheeseburger and a Big Mac through hiccups of laughter and dead silence on the employee’s end.

“Did you really drink that much?” Kiara inquires as they’re waiting for their order. Kyne rolls her eyes, pinching her on the arm.

“That’s none of your business,” she replies, childishly sticking her tongue out as Kiara looks at her in amusement.

Just a week ago she would’ve never imagined she’d get to see this side of Kyne, satisfied with their short encounters during office hours and polite enough friendship, but now, she wants this Kyne as a friend too - the messy drinker, quick-witted, caring Kyne that makes her laugh with every other word she says.

They’re sitting on the hood of Kiara’s car, eating their hamburgers and stealing each other’s fries as they talk about anything and everything - mostly about Kyne’s impressions of everyone she had met at the ball, not holding back on her opinions now that they were alone.

As she’s mimicking the voice of one of the women they met, Kiara notices a stain of what looks like mayonnaise in the corner of Kyne’s mouth, so she takes a napkin and brings her hand to her face to clean it up, making Kyne stop in the middle of a sentence. Kiara instructs her to be still and she complies, her gaze never leaving Kiara, even when she withdraws her hand, tossing the napkin into the food bag.

There’s a moment of silence, though not an uncomfortable one, before Kyne speaks again.

“Y’know, if I forget to tell you when you drop me home, I really like spending time with you. I enjoyed being your fake girlfriend,” she says earnestly, and the softness of her voice and tone makes Kiara’s heart race.

“I really liked having you as my fake girlfriend,” she echoes, though she doesn’t actually mean it - not because she didn’t enjoy the night, or because she regrets asking this to Kyne, not at all. She doesn’t regret anything.

It’s just that, as she stares at Kyne, listening to her chaotic train of thought while she tries to steal her fries, it hits her that she likes her. Actually likes her. Has probably liked her since the moment they met, when she made her giggle within minutes of meeting each other, when she let her hide in her office without much of an explanation, when she listened to her problems and offered solutions in her own Kyne way - she’s not sure when it started, but now that she knows it, the whole fake dating arrangement doesn't sit well with her.

#my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction #kiara schatzi #kyne #online kyne #kyara #fake dating au #some things are bound to be fic

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emybain · 5 years

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Almost

im a sucker for the au where nova’s family lives,,,so here’s another fic that I wrote with no shame. I definitely plan on writing more fics where she’s younger, and I might have to make a masterpost for this au (I also need to update my current masterpost of all my fics bc,,,yikes I haven't updated that in forever.) anyway, here’s a little drabble where adrian’s family comes over for dinner and the two families haven't seen one another in FOREVER and nova hasn't talked to Adrian in a couple months soooo :)) I may have gotten a little angsty but that's not my problem. also yes I definitely played into the stereotypical teenage romance trope and I dont care

. “I’m home,” Nova called out as she closed the front door behind her. The smell of onions and ginger hung in the air. Nova checked the time on the clock in the living room, setting her bag down beside Papà’s favorite armchair. It was only late afternoon, so she wasn’t hallucinating; her mom was making dinner early. Nova’s family tended to eat much later than the average family, usually in the late evening. According to Papà, that’s how he grew up, so it’s how Nova and her siblings would grow up. Maybe her mom was just cooking now so she wouldn’t have to later; she had done that a few times in the past. Nova shrugged it off.

From the kitchen, her mom called out to her in Tagalog, her first language. Another thing that made Nova frown; she rarely spoke in her first language unless it was for a specific reason. After all, English was the only language all five of the Artinos had in common. Nevertheless, Nova answered back in Tagalog to appease her mother, telling her how her day went. When her mom asked about her therapist appointment, though, Nova switched back to English so that her dad, who was probably in the kitchen as well, could understand.

“Dr. Sterling says hi and that she-”

Nova had just plopped her car keys down on a side table in the kitchen when she noticed that they had guests over. She faltered, biting back her usual report she would give to her parents following her therapist appointment. So that’s why Mom was speaking in her first language.

“No one told me we were having people over tonight.” Nova raised an awkward hand toward the Everhart-Westwood trio, not quite sure if she were speaking to her parents or their guests. Smoothing down her oversized tee shirt, Nova ignored the way her cheeks lit up at her appearance. An old shirt of her dad’s, workout shorts she had been in since her run that morning, and torn up tennis shoes with holes beginning to peak out in the toes. “I would’ve dressed nicer.”

Hugh was the first to break the awkward silence, chuckling and beckoning Nova forward. She gave him and Simon a one-armed hug.

“It was sort of last minute,” Simon explained, looking Nova up and down. “After all, it’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together.” A smile lit up his face. “While I can’t say you’ve grown, you’ve definitely changed, Nova. Every time we see you, you look more and more like your mother.” He was right; it had been a while since the two families had spent time together. Nova hadn’t seen Adrian’s dads in months other than the occasional wave from across a room at headquarters. When she was younger, it seemed as if the two families had more time for one another. It was odd, when she considered it, how close her family was to the Everhart-Westwoods, all because of a series of events that occurred when Nova was no older than six. Her father had gone to the Renegades for protection from Nova’s uncle, and they promised to protect him and his family. After a failed attempt by Nova’s uncle to kill her entire family, they were sent to a temporary home where they would be much safer. Then after Ace Anarchy was defeated, Nova’s father went to work for the Renegades with a vision of making the world a better place. Now, he sat comfortably as head of the weapons department, something Nova knew he wasn’t necessarily proud of, but it brought in a decent amount of money for his family. And besides, the weapons were currently being used for good. At least, that was what her dad said to reassure himself and his family.

“Too bad I also got her height,” Nova retorted.

“Nak, you’re perfect just the way you are,” Mom chided from the stove where she was stirring a pot of what looked like a soup or stew. Nova rolled her eyes, used to her mother lecturing her on her negative view of her appearance.

She turned to Adrian to hug him next, as it was expected, despite the sudden skip in her chest. It had been a few months since she had seen much of him or talked to him, both of them being held down by responsibilities and Renegade duties. Ever since they got their own teams a couple years ago, she had noticed how they began drifting apart. It was upsetting because they had been so close when they were young, but what could they do about it? Nova barely had enough time these days for her studies, something her parents were strict on her having. She supposed it was a good thing, seeing as she had developed confusing and distracting feelings for her childhood friend that went beyond friendship. And as her mom liked to say, people would enter and leave her life when she needed them, that they were there or not there for a reason.

It was hard not to breathe in or let her eyes fall shot when Nova wrapped both of her arms around Adrian’s shoulders, lifting up on the tips of her toes. She tried not to shiver as he bent down to meet her, arms encircling her waist. Then it was over too soon, and Nova hopped up on the kitchen counter beside where he stood.

“Get down from there,” Nova’s dad passed by her with a handful of bowls, swatting at her lightly once he set them down. Sharing a look with Adrian, who bit his lip to hold back his smile, she slid back down.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Nova leaned against the counter.

Papà opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Nova’s siblings came running through the kitchen, Thomas chasing after Evie with a red face and tears running down his cheeks.

“Give it back!” Thomas screeched. He managed to wrap a fist around Evie’s shirt before she ripped it from his grasp, dancing away. “Papà, tell Evie to give my action figure back!”

Nova saw her father’s face age about ten years as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “Evie, give your brother his toy back, please.”

“He wouldn’t leave me alone!” Evie stuck her tongue out at Thomas. “He kept opening my door and running away laughing, so now his stupid toy is mine.”

Nova shifted toward Adrian, who leaned down to listen as she mumbled, “She just got herself into huge trouble, watch.”

Papà narrowed his eyes at Evie. “Evie Grace Artino, what have we said about closed doors in this house?”

Nova elbowed Adrian softly.

Evie faltered, her hand that was held over her head to keep the toy away from Thomas falling. “Did I say my bedroom door? I..I-I um...I meant-”

“Give the toy back, and I’ll consider lightening your punishment for breaking the rules.”

Evie groaned loudly and shoved the toy at Thomas, whose skin and hair, Nova noticed, was a soft shade of red. At this point, Nova was used to her brother’s recent discovery that he was a prodigy like her. It wasn’t much, seemingly, because he only changed colors depending on his mood. But Nova had a feeling that there was much more to it, and that he would learn more about himself in the coming years.

“It’s not fair! Nova’s allowed to have her door shut!”

Nova began to speak, retorting that she had earned that right, but Mom beat her to it.

“Nova is five years older than you, Evie.” She brought the stirring pot over to the island where she set it on a hot pad. “And much more mature. She’s a leader in the Renegades and has nearly perfect grades in her studies and she does her chores and work without being asked. She’s earned that right, and you will too, once we see you trying in school and emptying the dishwasher on time and not after we’ve asked ten times.”

“Explains why you’re always grounded every other week,” Evie grumbled, shoving past Nova.

“Anyway,” Mom took her apron off. “Dinner’s ready. And to answer your question, Nova, it’s Sinigang.”

Nova smiled. Her favorite.

______

“No boys in bedrooms!” Mom called up the stairs as Nova led Adrian up.

“Oh darn, there goes my plan to seduce my best friend.” She shrugged at Adrian. “Sorry, maybe next time.” She pretended not to notice how he averted her gaze, cheeks red.

“I mean it, Nova Jean!”

“We’re just going to watch a movie or something, calm down!”

Even as she said it, she led Adrian to the back of the upstairs where her bedroom was.

“Didn’t your mom just say-”

Nova reached for his hand, pulling him inside. “We’re not going to be in my room.” She nodded to her window. “The roof?”

A smile crept onto Adrian’s face, understanding filling his eyes. He let Nova pull him to the window. She lifted it up and stepped out onto the sill, then pushed herself up onto the roof, an easy feat as the roof was slanted right beside her bedroom window. When they were little, she and Adrian would climb up there and talk for hours until Papà would have to go out in the backyard and yell up at them to come down because it was time for Adrian to go home.

The wind picked up slightly, and Nova peered back over her shoulder. “Grab a blanket from my bed.”

She crawled to the center, their spot, and waited for Adrian. When he poked his head up, she grinned and caught the blanket thrown at her. She wrapped it around herself as he joined her.

“How’s your team doing?” She scooted closer to him, telling herself it was because she was cold and he radiated heat. “I saw Ruby the other day in the training hall. We ran a few laps together before she had to go.”

“Good, I suppose.” He rested back on his elbows. “Danna misses you, by the way. She won’t shut up about how you two need to grab coffee or breakfast.”

Nova chuckled. “I know! We’ve been texting, but our schedules just haven’t lined up in a while. I haven’t been able to relax much the past few months with this new schedule I’m on.” She let out a sigh, resting her chin on her knees. “Especially since I-” she stopped herself, shoulders tensing up. Adrian didn’t know about her therapist. In fact, no one knew that she had started going to therapy, not even Adèle or Ramona or Benton, some of the people she spent most of her time around. She didn’t need people thinking she was weak.

“Since you what?” Even though she her back was to him, Nova could hear the frown in his voice.

“Nothing.” Nova chewed the inside of her cheek. “Forget I said anything.”

Adrian sat up. “No, what?” When she didn’t give him an immediate answer, avoiding his piercing gaze, he nudged her gently. “Come on, Nova. We’ve been friends for almost ten years. You know you can tell me anything.”

She picked at a hole in her leggings. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or anything. It’s a completely normal thing people do. It’s just...not everyone would agree with me, and you know that I’m not the most liked person in Gatlon.” It wasn’t something she acknowledged often because it always left her in a sour mood; it always lingered at the bottom of her conscience, like how Evie would overstay her welcome in Nova’s room sometimes. Because of her uncle, because of what he did before his death, the Artino’s had to tread lightly in the city. Her parents, maybe not so much, since so many sympathized with them choosing to do the right thing and nearly losing their lives over it. And Evie presented no danger because she wasn’t a prodigy, and she was too young to even remember her uncle. Thomas was still a young child, despite being a prodigy, and didn’t even know how to divide numbers bigger than twenty without help. Nova, on the other hand, was kept under supervision by just about all of Gatlon. There were people who didn’t like the fact that she was a Renegade, much less a team leader for one of the best teams in the city. They didn’t like that she was friends with Adrian Everhart, son of the late Lady Indomitable and adopted son of the Dread Warden and Captain Chromium, all three being members on the Renegades Council. Rumors had been spread in the past of her true intentions with the Everhart boy, and how much she trained, and how intelligent she was. After all, she had known Ace Anarchy; he was her Uncle Alec. She had loved him and the gifts he brought her family. That was all before she knew who he truly was, of course.

But even then, in recent years, she had been contacted by the living Anarchists, confronted by them in person sometimes. The Council didn’t know, and it was a secret Nova planned on taking to her grave, despite never acting on their kind words and suggestions to join them, that the Renegades were flawed and corrupt. She knew they only wanted her because of her bloodline. Their words were lies.

Nova couldn’t afford to make mistakes in this world with so many eyes on her.

Adrian shifted closer, the movement almost subtle. He placed a hand on her back, and Nova tried to hide her shiver. “They can all go to Hell. No one knows you like I do, Nova. The media...the media will always find a way to twist good into bad, no matter how hard you try.” He traced a small pattern on her back. “If you don’t want to tell me, I get it, and I won’t press anymore, but you can trust me. I promise not to tell anyone.”

Nova allowed herself to sink into his touch, just a little. After a moment, she said quietly, “I started going to therapy. You know how I don’t need to sleep? How whenever I try, I’m taken back to that night?” Adrian nodded. She had told him the story years ago. “Well, I’ve been going for that, partly.” She cleared her throat. “I learned from my therapist that I have a decent amount of anxiety, and I’m pretty fucking depressed, so I’m going for that as well.”

His hand paused on her back, then shifted to take her hand. She didn’t even realize it had started shaking. “That’s good you’re seeing someone. You’ve never been good at opening up.” She had to let out a soft laugh at that.

“Yeah.” She looked down at their joined hands, thought of how they would look better laced together. “But I mean, it’s helped a lot. She’s helping me work through the trauma and pain I deal with on a daily basis. And she’s patient, too, so if she makes a suggestion and it takes me weeks to act upon it, she’s not upset. She’s always happy to hear me try something new.”

“Like?” Adrian looked down at her.

She hummed. “Well, at first it was little things, like making my team train during the day instead of at four in the morning.” When Adrian frowned, she continued. “I’ve always done that because I was insecure about people watching me, about what they would say. And then it kind of just became routine, so I didn’t bother changing it until she suggested I do.”

“There were a few times I remember seeing you train during the day,” Adrian said. “They weren’t often, and I always assumed it was because something changed in your schedule.”

Nova nodded. “I hated those days. Usually, I would just try to tune everyone out but myself and my team.” She bit her lip. “Now, it’s still a little weird, but I’m getting used to it every day.” A snort escaped her mouth. “And now people can stop saying I have something to hide because I train so early.”

“Stop worrying about what other people think.” He squeezed her hand gently, that stupid soft smile returning to his lips.

“Gee,” Nova deadpanned, “I wish I would’ve thought of that. Thank you. I’m cured.”

“You know what I mean.”

Nova tore her hand out of his, despite liking the way it felt, to push him gently. He was laughing at her now, so she pushed him again, this time a bit harder. It seemed to have no effect on him. Why was he so infuriating? Even from going months without seeing one another, even from drifting apart in recent years, he still had the audacity to be so comfortable around her while she was an awkward mess. She guessed that may also play a part in the reason why her pulse tended to quicken in his presence the past six or more months. She also guessed that was why she enjoyed her friendship with him as much as she did, and that he was debatably the closest person to her. They could always pick up right where they left off no matter how long they were apart, as if they had talked just the other day.

Adrian nudged her back with his arm playfully. They went back and forth like this, playing the game for another minute or so, the two of them erupting into quite giggles, before he grabbed both of her arms as they pushed against his chest. She tried to pull away, grinning widely, but her laughter died in her throat when she looked up to meet his eyes. They stared into hers with an intensity that brought color to her cheeks. Her smile faded.

“Nova, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now,” he breathed. Minutes ago, he had sounded so calm, so confident, and now she could hear the trembling in his voice, the uncertainty. She could’ve sworn she saw his eyelashes dip, eyes glancing at her gaping mouth. Instead of telling her, he inched his face closer to hers.

Inhaling sharply, Nova almost scrambled away. Was he...great skies. She remained still, though, and surprised herself by letting her eyes flutter shut, tilting in. After all, wasn’t this what she had been wanting for so long? Many nights had been spent tossing and turning in her bed, trying to make herself get at least a few minutes of sleep despite not needing it, wondering if he thought of her the way she thought of him. They weren’t kids anymore. Things had changed.

But they were still friends. Best friends. What if...whatever this was...would send them down a dangerous path? It could open up something new for both of them, or it could completely ruin a decade long friendship. And with her schedule, she didn’t have time for it, even though she really, really, truly wanted it. Wanted him. This was the first time they had actually hung out in months, and while they could pick up where they left off as friends, would it be the same in a relationship?

Too many questions raced through her mind as Adrian’s lips brushed against hers, sending electricity down her spine. She had kissed Adrian before, nearly three years ago at a party where they played spin the bottle. Back then, it was an innocent kiss, an awkward and amateur exchange between two friends who had both just recently had the talk with their parents. She remembered their friends teasing them about it for months, and Nova and Adrian had mutually agreed that it held little meaning and that nothing would change in their friendship.

Body trembling, Nova swiveled her head to face the backyard before Adrian’s lips could press against hers and she would be lost in him. She concentrated her eyes on the old playset in the yard.

“Do you want to play I Spy?” From the corner of her eye, she could see Adrian blink at her, confused and deflated at her sudden rejection. She dared to peek back at him when he didn’t answer. “It was your favorite game once upon a time, right?”

Adrian gulped, staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, before he nodded, almost as if he understood what she was trying to silently convey through her eyes. She was scared, terrified even, of a kiss and what it could mean. Their friendship was one of the only things tethering her to sanity some days, at least it seemed that way.

Please, please, please don’t hate me. I need normal right now.

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #nova artino #adrian everhart #nodrian #Oscar silva #ruby tucker #danna bell #anarchists #my writing #im sorry for this #just btw

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uglyducklingpresse · 5 years

Text

“WE ARE ALL SOMEWHAT COLONIZED IN OUR EXISTENCE”: JAMIE CHIANG IN CONVERSATION WITH ZAHRA PATTERSON

UDP apprentice Jamie Chiang interviewed writer and educator Zahra Patterson in February 2019 after the release of her UDP title Chronology, recent winner of the Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Memoir/Biography. They discussed Zahra's journaling in Cape Town; her friendship with Liepollo Ranekoa, who passed away in 2012; the impact of language choice in postcolonial literature; tattoos; and more.

Taking as its starting point an ultimately failed attempt to translate a Sesotho short story into English, Chronology explores the spaces language occupies in relationships, colonial history, and the postcolonial present. It is a collage of images and documents, folding on words-that-follow-no-chronology, unveiling layers of meaning of queering love, friendship, death, and power.

Can you talk about the background of your decision to go to Cape Town to find who you are or the meaning of life? Did you find it? (In Chronology, Zahra refers to her journey to Cape Town as a search for herself.)

Yeah, I mean sometimes I get a little dramatic perhaps when I'm writing in my journal.

How old were you? How many years ago was that?

It was the end of 2009 into 2010, so I would have been in my late twenties. I feel a journal is a place to express one's ideas, but it's also a creative space. I wouldn't take myself totally seriously in everything that comes out in a journal. I think there's definitely some self-awareness of one's own—my self importance, but also the quest to find oneself is not just to be made fun of. I think it's an important concept.

How long did you stay in Cape Town?

I was there for around five weeks. As far as the decision to go, it was more spur of the moment. I was in South Africa for a wedding. My cousin got married and instead of going off traveling that far for a week, I thought I would just spend a couple of months if I had to go to that part of the world; there's no point in going for a week, so I was going to stay. I hadn't actually decided where I was going after the wedding until I got there, and Cape Town seemed to make the most sense to me.

It perhaps felt the least imperialistic to go and spend time in such a cosmopolitan, international city as opposed to going somewhere more remote. You're either a tourist or a local, whereas Cape Town is an easy city to integrate into.

I see. On page 33, you mention that you have a tattoo, and in the caption there is this word ke nonyana. What does ke nonyana mean?

It means I'm a bird.

That's the first word you spoke in Sesotho?

Yes. I found the words in Liepollo’s English-Sesotho dictionary one day, and when she came home I spoke them. It meant a lot to her that I’d engaged with her language.

If you don’t mind, could you elaborate the story behind Liepollo’s colleague’s Facebook profile picture. What happened?

It was the day she died, and his Facebook profile changed to her picture. It was an image of her. That was jarring because why somebody would put an image of a friend up, and there are very few circumstances that someone would do something like that and usually it's because they're dead. So when I saw that his Facebook picture changed to her face, it occurred to me that something terrible had happened. And I was at work at the time, so it was just very disorienting.

Sorry to hear that. Did you get your tattoo because of this?

Yeah, so I didn't have anybody to mourn with because I had met Liepollo in Cape Town and we didn't have friends in common. Actually, we had a friend in common—an American who interned at Chimurenga while I was staying with Liepollo who I met once at the house in Observatory and once for coffee in Brooklyn—but she had moved to D.C. by that time, so I didn't reach out to her. It was a very isolated mourning experience. That's kind of why I got the tattoo, just to have her with me and to have that symbol and to think of her every day. Because when you have a long distance friendship, you're not going to think of the person every day. We were in touch every few months. I don’t want to forget her due to not having a lot of people to remember who she was with, so I needed to make her memory permanent on me. I think everybody thinks about getting tattoos in this day and age. My rule for tattoos is if I want it for a full year, then I'll get it, and I've never wanted anything for a year. So it’s my only tattoo.

And ke nonyana sounds beautiful.

Thank you. I think it's beautiful also.

And on page 37 and 38, there’s an interesting conversation you had with a Muslim guy named Saed. I found some of his talk kind of sexist. What was your reaction when you were talking to him? It sounds like he's almost preaching to you, trying to change your idea about what a woman's purpose is in this world.

Exactly! But he also wasn't that; he was as if playing the role that he thought he was supposed to play and open to other ways of thinking. We're socialized beings, all of us. He wasn't terribly dogmatic. I don't think he'd been challenged too much in his way of thinking, but at the same time maybe he had because he was open to being challenged. So yeah, it was very interesting.

On page 47 to 48, you write about the panel What is the value of age and wisdom? at the Bronx Museum of Art. The five panelists are: Vinie Burrows, Boubacar Boris Diop, Yusef Komunyakaa, Achille Mbembe and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. There’s a quotation from Mbembe: “If the language we use is in itself a prison...We have to put a bomb under the language. Explode language!” Could you tell us more about the context?

Achille Mbembe is a leading postcolonial theorist. I think his words are also quite poetic, so he's speaking metaphorically. The context of that part of the conversation is imperialism and language. That intellectuals from formerly colonized nations use the colonial language to express decolonial ideas is problematic, but it's still very accepted. And even these intellectuals who are on the panel, they write in English and they write in French, but they also find it problematic that they do that; however, it's also part of their survival. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o wrote Decolonizing The Mind in the early eighties, where he swore off ever writing in English again, but then he is put into prison and he's exiled, so he can't actually exist in his mother tongue and his mother land; the government there has ostracized him because he speaks out against what they're doing to the people. Therefore, he has to make his life in English in America, he teaches in California.

Circumstances don't necessarily allow a person to decolonize their lives because in order to survive in this society, we are all somewhat colonized in our existence. I think that saying to put a bomb under language is saying that we need to just get our ideas out there. There’s also the visual aspect of it, I see words and letters, like, splattered. Like fucking. . .we need to fuck with language; we need to push the boundaries of language.

As Diop said “Teaching Wolof enhances self-esteem.” Does Wolof have a writing system?

I’m not positive about the history of Wolof’s writing system but I know some, especially in more northern Sub-African countries had created writing systems using Arabic script and maybe some of them now use the Latin alphabet, so I would have to look that up for Wolof specifically.

You use your mother tongue to express yourself because ideas in a specific language can't be translated. When you lose the language, you lose the culture and the history of people. Also if you're writing in any of the indigenous languages to Africa, you're not writing for the colonizer; you're writing for the people who speak that language, which is also important.

A lot of this theory, especially academic theory that is taught in universities, is very limited in its reach. I think even though these are serious intellectuals who write academic works for academia, they're aware and they're problematizing the limits of writing scholarly work for institutions that isn't necessarily reaching the people.

What other languages do you speak?

I speak French. I lived in France for awhile. I would say I used to be bilingual; I'm kind of monolingual at this point in my life.

What about in Sesotho?

I was working on the project (an attempt to translate Lits'oanelo Yvonne Nei's short story “Bophelo bo naka li maripa” from Sesotho to English) originally, but the access to the language was limited. I wasn't able to access decent grammar books, I wasn't able to access the orthography that I wanted to access so I gave up pretty quickly...but it wasn't as simple as giving up. I stepped back because I didn't really feel it was totally appropriate for me to do what I was doing. I think that’s a hugely important part of my text, the part where I put myself into conversation with Spivak and she tells me, via an essay she wrote about translation, that what I’m doing is wrong. I want to learn a language in which I'm going to be able to speak to people. I’m still not totally sure if I should have published what was supposed to be such a personal exercise, so that section with Spivak is essential to me.

On page 72, you wrote Liepollo an email about a friend who taught you how to say Your sister is a whore in Tagalog?

A friend of mine, her first love was Filipina so she knew how to insult people in Tagalog. When she said it, it sounded Spanish to me so I was wondering if that kind of insult comes with colonialism...also a misogynistic perspective can come. Not to say that misogyny doesn't exist in all cultures, although I think there are probably some cultures where it doesn't exist. Just problematizing the way language can infiltrate into a culture and then become part of the existing language but isn't part of that cultural history—the etymology isn’t actually Filipino; the etymology is Spanish.

Are there any books and authors that inspire you a lot?

For this work, Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, that was a huge inspiration. Mouth: Eats Color by Sawako Nakayasu in terms of thinking about different ways, different things that can be done with form and then different things that can be done with translation. It was very liberating to read those two authors. I don't identify as a translator nor as a poet, so most of the things I've read are novels. My background is primarily in postmodern and postcolonial pieces of literature. I also thought about the nature of collage while I was working on Chronology. I looked at Wangechi Mutu’s work specifically for inspiration, but I’ve loved Romare Bearden’s work for years.

Thanks for sharing. The last question, what are you working on now?

I've started writing and hopefully I'm able to continue it. It's a piece that will potentially be called Policy. I'm an educator and I'm pretty passionate about how distorted and messed up the reality of public school systems is in this country. Although one could say I've been researching since I've been an adult, I started specific research for Policy last summer and I didn't start writing it until a couple of weeks ago. It's experimental in form. I'd say it's fiction meets theory, whereas Chronology is memoir meets theory. I'm not sure exactly where it's going but I'm thinking critically about charter schools and desegregation efforts in New York City and also the history of that. So going back to Brown versus the Board of Ed. . .I'll probably address school shootings, the school-to-prison pipeline, school lunches, teachers’ strikes; it’s about as intersectional an issue as there is—how we educate ourselves as a nation, and on the stolen land of our nation.

I think right now, especially with the current administration, though public schools have been in danger for a very long time, our current secretary of education is a billionaire who wants to privatize education, so her agenda is to destroy our public school infrastructure. It's worrisome. Processing this information in a way makes me very angry because it's systemic. It's how you keep people oppressed. If you don't give people access to education, you're not giving them access to themselves. Never mind the tools they need to achieve and succeed in a capitalist society.

I don't feel the United States has a liberatory agenda for education and I want to explore that a little bit in the history of curriculums and pedagogy because there have been, at the turn of the century, there were some really interesting education theorists like John Dewey and Ella Flagg Young, and their ideas for public education were very progressive, such as student driven classrooms, and not having really punitive systems. You find that education in private schools but rarely in public schools, so why are we not educating our youth in ways that let them think critically about the world that they're living in? Educating children to just follow rules and memorize doesn't work for most children. How many do you know in public schools who are excited to go to school every day? I think humans naturally are curious and want to learn and know things. So why is education taking that away from children?

I don't know exactly how the project is going to manifest. It will be weird.

Zahra Patterson’s first book, Chronology (Ugly Duckling Presse 2018), won the 2019 Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Memoir/Biography and received a Face Out Fellowship from CLMP. Her short works have appeared in Kalyani Magazine The Felt, and unbag (forthcoming). A reading of her play, Sappho's Last Supper, was staged at WOW Café Theatre. She is the creator of Raw Fiction and currently teaches high school English at a Quaker boarding school. Her writing has been supported by Mount Tremper Arts and Wendy’s Subway, and her community work has been supported by Brooklyn Arts Council, The Pratt Center, and many individuals. She holds an MFA in Writing from Pratt Institute.

#author interviews #read #zahra patterson #chronology

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