#still have it too and sometimes i stare at it go. oh everything is preordained is it not. freaky.
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ratatatastic · 6 months ago
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365daysofsasuhina · 6 years ago
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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Seventy-Five: Direct Opposites ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Shisui ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Healing Waters and Scorching Flames ] [ AO3 Link ]
In their world, there could hardly be a pair more directly opposite.
True, Sakura and Naruto - earthbender and airbender - are just as curious in regards to their elements. But at least their temperaments had always been vaguely similar. Loud, boisterous, and uncensored.
But when they first met, Hinata and Sasuke couldn’t be more different.
She had been meek, quiet, afraid...and yet determined to save the boy she’d only just helped break free of his icebound prison.
He was driven, assertive...and full of anger, just as determined to take that boy and help ensure victory of a one-hundred year long war to place all beneath the Fire Nation banner.
But, like seasons...as time passed, they both changed. Hinata grew bolder, more confident, and lost her fear as she came into her own. A true natural, she mastered water quickly alongside her Avatar companion, and with her mastery came assurity in herself.
And with every clash he had with the Avatar - alongside gentle, unnoticed prodding from his cousin - Sasuke, too, began to shift. While his was...slower, and more painful after a lifetime of expectations and bias, change still came. He lost his edge, his anger, and his determination found new focus: aid the Avatar, stop his father, and bring peace to a world he’d remained largely ignorant of.
And part of his ignorance was indeed shattered by a once-shy waterbender novice...now a master, and able to stand up to all he’d been.
He respected that growth. And she, in time, came to appreciate his own...though her trust was slow to earn. In the end, she recognized the necessity...and through their shared battles, now facing the same foes, Hinata realized he truly had changed.
And so, they fought side by side in the decisive battles that - at last - put an end to a century of war, occupation, and suffering.
It was then they knew that no longer were they opposites - fire and water may stand across from one another in the elemental balance...but so too could they work side by side. Over the course of their journeys, both had metamorphosed.
And then the real work began. Reintegration, peace talks, new laws and new governments. They all had their hands full, and over the next several years only saw each other briefly.
But when they did, Sasuke...realized something. Hinata had grown, certainly...but their continued efforts only saw her blossom further. She became a leader, a doer, and a strong voice for her people. In any political sense, he saw her as his equal, if not - in some ways - above him. Second born to the new Fire Lord, he would never lead...nor did he want to. That temptation of power was too great, and he would never take that chance again.
But Hinata was a natural. Gracious, but firm. Kind, but resolute. Under her guidance (and with help of all of her people), the South began to grow...and prosper.
...and so did she.
The more they were able to talk - at summits, at galas, and even little meetings in Shisui’s tea shop - the more Sasuke realized how much she’d matured.
How...beautiful she was, inside and out.
The realization was a little off-putting. Even then, the knee-jerk reaction to their elements couldn’t be avoided. Him, a firebender, in love with a waterbender? What would his father -?
...it no longer mattered what his father thought. His father was no longer Fire Lord - no longer a firebender. And no longer a part of his life. Nor was Sasuke heir to the throne. It wasn’t his responsibility to marry for bloodlines.
...not that his brother had done so, either.
He almost wanted to see the look on his father’s face when he saw both of his sons hand their hearts to waterbenders.
...in a way, Sasuke found it...fitting. To have water there to temper the heat and hunger of fire. Maybe that was exactly what their nation needed.
...but was it what Hinata wanted…?
It’s now we find out.
He’s waited to ask her back to the teahouse. For some reason, it just feels...right to meet her there. In the shop his cousin has found peace in. In a place they’ve spent time together, and where he labored honestly for the first time, no longer a prince. Something about it seems to suit his intentions.
Standing outside, he waits almost anxiously, too engrossed in his worrying to note the occasional stare he gets. After all, he’s wearing traditional Fire Nation garb. It’s been about ten years, but...well, memories go back further than that. And there’s little mistaking who he is. Arms crossed, he resists the urge to shove one back in his pocket, make sure it’s still there -
“Sasuke?”
Face snapping up from his staring at his boots in thought, his expression alights at her voice. Like him, she wears clothes of her homeland, though slightly lighter in style than typical. It’s warm in the Earth Kingdom this time of year, after all. Hardly a time for parkas and furred boots. “...Hinata!”
“Sorry I’m late - there was a little trouble with the tram,” she explains with a small smile. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long?”
In truth, he was here half an hour before they were arranged to meet, talking with Shisui and sharing his intentions. With his cousin in on the plot, things will hopefully go smoothly. “No, not long. I’m fine - don’t worry about me.”
A dark brow perks over pale eyes. “Well...all right then. Should we get inside?”
“Sure - Shisui knows we’re coming, so I’m sure he’ll be ready for us.”
“Oh! Good!”
One of the servers leads them to a rear table for two, flanked on both sides in the corner by windows. Doing his best not to look stiff or nervous, Sasuke mirrors her menu-studying, ordering before they’re left to their devices.
“...so, how are things in the South?”
“Very good. The port city is growing rapidly, and all of the displaced waterbenders have either been returned home, or found new homes in the city. We’re finally starting to flourish after all of our hard work.”
He gives a soft smile - a few years back, he got to see the changes for himself during a trip South with his brother.
It had been a...bittersweet visit.
“What about you? Still busy in the Fire Nation?”
“Honestly, not so much. Most of the greatest difficulties were handled fairly quickly after the war. It’s mostly just typical upkeep of diplomacy, and working with Naruto on that city in the Earth Kingdom he’s so excited about.”
“Republic City?”
“Yeah. We’re almost out of the planning phases and ready to start building.”
“That’s so amazing...I think it’s a wonderful idea. A neutral area for anyone of any nation to live...I’ll have to drop by sometime!”
“Well, there’s nothing to see yet, but I hope you will once there is.”
...silence falls. And their tea has yet to arrive.
“Any, uh...anything else exciting happen lately?”
“Mm...no, not really,” Hinata admits. “Like you say, things have mostly leveled off into maintaining the new normal.”
“Ah…”
Another pause, and Sasuke hesitates. Should he…? Reaching into his pocket stealthily, he makes to grab -
But then their orders arrive, each with their own small teapot. He whips his hand back to the table, earning a glance from his companion, to which he gives a twitching smile.
“...are you...all right?”
“Fine! Fine.”
Hinata’s expression deadpans slightly. “...Sasuke, you know you can’t lie to me.”
“I’m not...lying, I’m just -”
“What’s on your mind?”
You. “...er…”
Her brows lift, and...well, he might as well admit the jig is up.
Sighing, he fishes around in his pocket, and grasps something in his hand. “...I know this isn’t how things usually go for your people, and uh...I hope it isn’t offensive that I - that I’m trying it, but -”
Nearby, Shisui perks up, seeing his cousin fumbling.
“...obviously you don’t have to take it. I just -” His other hand runs back through his hair with another exhale. “...Hinata...you and I, we...we started off on the wrong foot. The...worst foot, really. And...I know you hated me for a time. I don’t blame you.”
“Sasuke -”
“But, then...we changed. I changed, especially. And...we got to get to know each other up until the war. And then things got so busy, we hardly got to see each other, but...but you? You grew so much. And every time I’ve gotten to see you since the war ended, I...I realized that everything you were becoming - strong, and wise, and...and beautiful - were things that I...I…” A pause to take a shaking breath, swallowing harshly. “...that I was falling in love with.”
Expression slackening, Hinata’s pale eyes go round.
“At first, I...I refuted it. Because surely you still blamed me in some capacity. Surely one of the most famous waterbenders wouldn’t want anything to do with a disgraced firebending prince. Two direct opposites couldn’t ever mesh like that...could they?
“...but I saw glimmers of hope in it. I thought - I hoped - that I read a similar, if not maybe...more muted feeling in you. I felt torn between what I assumed, and...what I thought I knew. So…”
Unclenching his fist, Sasuke reveals a traditional betrothal necklace. But rather than the typical stone, it’s carved from obsidian: round, with wave-like patterns. “This is a volcanic rock that I found in my homeland. I thought it might serve to...to unite two opposing forces. This isn’t a water tribe arranged marriage, and...I’m not a waterbender. But -”
Hinata raises a hand, cutting him off before plucking the choker from his palm. Studying it for a long moment, she then lifts it to her throat, careful fingers clasping it.
...is she…?
“...you’re right,” she murmurs. “This isn’t something preordained. And...maybe we could spend a little time...adjusting first. But…” Letting fingers press the stone to her throat, Hinata looks up, expression aglow with happiness. “...I think, given that that plan goes well...then I would have no qualms about marrying you. Because you read me right - I’ve come to respect and admire you, too.”
“Y-you…?”
“I know we’ve known each other for almost a decade, now. But...this is...different. I’d just like to let ourselves ease into it, maybe…?”
“Of...of course! I...you’re right. I just thought it’d be...er…”
“It’s a lovely gesture. And not at all offensive - in fact, I’m flattered you went so far to follow our traditions, even though they aren’t your own.” Delicately, Hinata rests her hand atop his own, feeling him grasp it. “You’re right...this is quite the clashing of cultures. But...we fought side by side, fire and water. Surely we can do just the opposite too.”
Softening (and doing his absolute best not to cry), Sasuke leans in to rest his brow to hers. “...I’m sure we can.”
It’s then applause breaks out, and the pair of them jolt. Shisui leads the entire teahouse in clapping, flushing both their faces bright red.
“It’s about time!” the elder cousin teases, grinning from ear to ear. “Your chemistry was so bright when you were in here before, it was blinding.”
“Shisui,” Sasuke growls in warning, the tips of his ears hot.
“Tea’s on the house today for the lovely couple,” the ex-general finishes, winking and slinking back into the rear to give them a moment.
Sasuke heaves a gusting sigh, still pink as Hinata giggles.
“Don’t worry - I’m sure we’ll hear worse for a while. Just wait until Sakura and Naruto hear the news.”
Sasuke just groans.
     It's v late and I'm v tired so I'll be brief ='D      A proposal scene, woo! I...dunno if this is how this would actually go, but we'll roll with it for the sake of the challenge entry. I can see Sasuke being pretty nervous. They don't get to interact much post-war, but there's always a kind of...tension when they do. So he's wagering he read that tension right!      Apparently, he did xD Still, Hinata's probably right: better try dating properly for a while first, but...it's clear they've pretty much made up their minds.      And uh...yeah. That's it xD I'm gonna go crash now, haha - thanks for reading!
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whiney-wine · 6 years ago
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Therapy~ February 11, 2019
This first words out of her mouth were; “tell me about your week.” I smirked. Her melodious voice echoed in my still mind.
“my week was good,” I said.
“So, fill me in, did you show your professors that list of symptoms we made?”
“no.”
“that’s what I guessed,” she chirped, “oh well, if you had given it that’d’ve been OK too. There’s always the option of doing well in class and then there’s no need to show it at all!”
I smiled. My mom told me the same words on the phone.
“Did you shower?” she asked. For the past few sessions I’d been showing up, rancid, in a 7-day shower-free streak.
I giggled, “yeah I showered this morning.”
“That’s a relief, eh— that you don't have to show up here and tell me it’s been three weeks,” she took a sip of her coffee while I suppress a laugh.
“How about school? How’s that figure drawing project going?”
“Good. I did a quick 45 minute sketch to show durring critique.”
“That’s good you got something done. Will you have it finished by the time it’s due?”
“Yeah. I’m about 75% done,” I boasted, “I drew two girls stranded in a swamp with bird-men crawling among the trees on watercolor paper.”
“That’s creative! Sounds a lot like your lizard people amphibian people psychosis theory,” she said.
“I always wondered what I’d concoct in another psychotic episode...” I trailed off.
“Say, thinking back on those episodes, how did your episode in December compare to your episode in August?”
“the one in August was way worse,” I said.
“How so?”
“Well, in December I remember I got confused, and that was really it.”
“What was confusing?”
“My thoughts. They got loud, and they were demanding all my attention— usually my mind is quiet— it was like there were little people in my brain,” I paused, “I only remember that happening in December.”
“Were the sounds coming from inside your head or outside?”
“Inside.”
“Was there anything similar between December and August?”
I considered this for a minute, “I thought I was under mind control both times.”
“explain.”
“I thought my family controlled my life.”
“Who in your family? Your mom? Your sister?”
“My mom mostly.”
She leaned forward in her chair, intrigued, “how did your mom control you?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, “I thought I could only do what she told me to.”
“What would happen if you didn't do as she said?”
“I couldn’t,” I protested, “I thought that all the choices I made were because of her. And even if I did disobey I would be fated to live my life as is.”
“Explain.”
“I thought fate dictated my life. I thought all my choices were preordained. And that it didn't matter what I did I’d end up in the same place whether or not I tried.”
“How did that affect you?”
“I suppose I gave up trying. What’s the point, right— when everything just happens the way it’s supposed to?”
“What do you think about God?” she said. I cocked my head. “How about what’s up there or down there,” she said as she pointed to the ceiling and the floor.
“I’m not really religious,” I said.
“Talking about fate sounds pretty religious.”
“Those are just strange thoughts from my psychosis brain. I don't really think about it now.”
“Try thinking about it now, to see what happens.”
I shrugged, “I suppose I believe in an energy or aura.”
“That sounds religious to me,” she said. I shrugged again.
“When you draw, how would you draw fate?”
“I couldn’t,” I said, “because it is both something and nothing.”
“You’re right; that’d be like personifying it.”
We sat in silence for a moment; “so, were you fated then to have those episodes of psychosis?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “but sometimes I think those episodes were caused by stress.”
“Then, that’s not really fate.”
“I guess,” I said, confused, “but maybe I was fated to be stressed and no amount stress-free precautions could have changed that.”
“What had you so stressed?”
I considered this for a moment, “before my episode in August there was that psych testing. I think that stressed me out.”
“What was so stressful about the psych testing?”
I smirked, embarrassed. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do know.”
I held her in a stalemate before finally speaking; “I felt like an experiment.”
“What made it feel like an experiment?”
“All the questions I suppose,” I said, “and the fact it was a test.”
“Did you feel like that, stressed, before the test?”
“Maybe a little bit— mostly during it, I’d say.”
“Do you think it was lucky or unlucky to go in for testing?”
“unlucky.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
“It sounds like there's a big theme about control with you— talking about fate makes it seem like you have no control but some of your behavior says the opposite,” I narrowed my eyes. She continued, “some of your behavior shows control, weather it be good or bad, take your eating habits for example” I was taken aback by the intelligence she must have to make such a connection. “Say, how has your eating been these days?”
“I’ve been eating normal,” I said. I had been too lazy to count calories this week.
“I remember last week you said you had been gorging yourself, and the week before that eating around 700 calories a day.”
“I’ve been eating normal,” I repeated. “Oatmeal, toast, some pita chips, those microwaveable vegetable medleys” I added, “and some skittles.”
“I love skittles,” she said, “what’s your favorite color?”
“The red and the yellow.”
“I love the yellow,” she smiled, “and the green. Not a big fan of the red, though. What flavor is the red? Strawberry?”
“I thought it was cherry, but I might be wrong,” I studied her raised eyebrow. “I like cherries,” I added.
“Do you buy the whole huge bag and eat them all?”
“No, mine was in the box. It was leftover christmas candy,” I said.
“Wow, takes you a long time to go through candy,” she noted.
“I don't like eating candy. It makes me feel gross,” I let my nose wrinkle in disgust, “I had a lot more candy but I gave most of it away to my friends.”
“Not a big candy person?”
“Nope.”
“When you say it makes you feel gross it sounds like it’s a feeling up here,” she tapped her noggin, “or do you feel it in your body?”
“I feel it in my body,” I said, “it makes my blood feel sticky.”
“So the more candy you eat the stickier your blood feels?”
“yeah,” we laughed together.
She let the laughter rest on her face before continuing;
“You don't talk much, but when you do a lot of what you say is important— maybe not the bit about the sticky blood, but definitely the bit about fate. You have a lot of important thoughts in your head.” My eyebrows shot up. Her words caught me off guard and I felt warm for sharing so much today.
I didn't reply.
We sat in silence more. I was smiling to myself, trying my best to cling to her words.
“Why are you smirking?” I didn't want to say it was because of her. I loved hearing what she had to say, I instead spoke of what had been on my mind earlier;
“I was just thinking about the last time I was here,” I said, “I used to keep a journal and I would write about our time together, but recently I’ve been finding it hard to remember,” I studied her round glasses looking for a hint of emotion. Her face was placid. “Last time I left I tried to remember what we talked about. But I couldn't remember.”
“I remember you saying the same about classes. That’s sad that you can't remember,” she sympathized. “Let’s try our best to make our time together memorable.” She stood up from her chair and meandered to her desk where she retrieved a pad of paper. “Tell me what your remember about today.”
“I remember we talked about fate,” and I remembered you said ‘that sounds like a hoot’ in response to what I can’t remember, I added silently.
She wrote on a paper for me;
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She handed the paper to me. I smiled; her frilly handwriting danced across my vision as I read.
And like that our time was up.
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peaches-of-1 · 6 years ago
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RENT AU
This is queued for Dec 24th 9PM EST. You’re welcome. The cast is as follows.
Mark: Hui
Roger: E’Dawn
Mimi: Hyuna
Tom Collins: Namjoon
Angel: Key*
Joanne: Maman
Maureen: Hwasa
Benny: CubeEnt- Park Choongmin
A/N: In the show, the character Angel is referenced to with mostly female pronouns. To keep with the pronouns of both Angel and Key I will use he/him as well as she/her to reference the part.
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The full moon was high in the sky. It had been so cold this winter that the power had been going out often from being frozen and all sorts of water damage. It was hell especially for Hui and E’Dawn who technically weren’t even supposed to be living where they were living. Outside, a small tent city had sprung up in the lot next to the old publishing factory. It was freezing even with the tin trash can filled with found logs and discarded planks or their “illegal wood burning stove” as Dawnie liked to call it. Things were fine, their good friend Choongmin had told them it was fine to live there without rent since they were so close. Then again, E’Dawn was his stage name. He hadn’t been using it a lot recently because he wasn’t really on stage that often.
Hui had gotten into video making and used his phone as well as an old video camera to capture the footage he needed. He turned the camera to himself.
“Um, December 24th, 9pm. Korean Standard Time, from here on in, I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it instead of my old shit.”
Since all his scripted stuff hadn’t gone over well with several dozen failed videos that were taking down due to copyright infringement when everything was from his own mind. It just so happened to be eerily similar to some script a kid wrote when they were in elementary school. Hui had never read it, but whatever. He turned the camera to his roomie and best friend E’Dawn who commonly went by Hyojong.
“First shot, Hyojong, tuning the Fender guitar he hasn’t played in a year.”
“It won’t tune” The blonde and brown rooted babe said.
In return, Hui teased, “So we hear. He’s just coming back after half a year of withdrawal.”
“You talking to me?” He began to look up with his death stare.
His silver haired friend turned his phone to a different direction, “Not at all…” He turned it back to his friend, trying to get a close up. “Are you ready?” He asked to Hyojong who didn’t answer because he knew his friend was like this.
He held the focus steady and got a good shot of his downturned head, “Tell the folks at home what you’re doing, Hyojong.”
“I’m writing one great song--”
The phone rang. The old camera was recording from its table without anyone’s knowledge, but Hui paused his phone. “SPEAK” it was the sound of their answering machine. Someone was calling? Who the heck could it be?
It was Hui’s mother. She wanted to tell her son how much she loved them. From the background, he heard screams and giggles and someone else call her mom. She then said that his step sister and her kids sent their love. His mother then went on to remind him not to leave the hot plate she sent him on whenever they left the house. Then came the final blow.
“Oh, and Hwitaek, we’re sorry to hear that Hwasa dumped you. I say c’est la vie, so let her be a lesbian! There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Love you, mom~!”
Hyojong pat his buddy on the back at the mention of the past relationship. Hui rolled his eyes and waited for his mom to hang up before starting where he left off. As soon as the blonde began to speak once more, the phone rang again.
“SPEAK!”
A lovely deep voice came from the receiver, “Chestnuts roasting~”
Excitedly, Hui rushed the phone, “Namjoon!
“I’m downstairs!” The man in a snow white beanie said to whoever was listening.
He picked it up, “Hey!”
“E’Dawn-hyung picked up the phone?”
“Nah, it’s me.”
Namjoon nodded, “Throw me the key.”
His older friend smiled at the thought of seeing his friend again and threw the key out the window knowing his friend would catch it, “A wild night is now preordained.”
Hyojong continued trying to tune his guitar in the background. Namjoon smiled but soon his face turned to fear as he saw some of the neighborhood thugs start to approach him.
“I may be detained.” He hung up quickly.
“What does that mean, detained?” The phone rang again, and Hui put the phone to where both him and his roomie could hear. Thinking it was their friend again he asked, “What’d you mean, detained?”
Instead a snarky, “Ho ho ho.” came through the phone.
“Choongmin!” They were excited until Hui put the phone to his chest and then they revealed the truth by saying. “Shit!”
They didn’t like Choongmin, or Minnie as they called him despite the man being a few years older than the both of them.
“Dudes, I’m on my way!” He sounded like he was in his car...a sparkling white Range Rover nonetheless. He had taken a vacation recently.
“Great!” They looked each other in the eyes. “Fuck.”
“I need the rent.” Minnie switched his phone to the other side.
They were confused and asked what rent he could possibly be talking about. He said it was the past year’s rent which he “let slide.” Hui called him out on his bullshit saying that it wasn’t that he let it slide, he said that they didn’t have to. Hyojong reminded him it was when he bought the building. Hui reminded him that they were roommates even though he now treated the two of them like dirt.
“Remember, you lived here?” E’Dawn asked.
Choongmin chuckled, “How could I forget? You, me, Dawnie, and Hwasa.” Then he asked about the soulful diva.
Hui mentioned her show tonight and Minnie said he already knew. He asked if the glasses wearing boy was still her so called production manager. He was...until two days ago. When asked if they were still together, it was revealed that they had been broken up for over a month now. Hyojong pulled the phone over to say that Hwasa was now in love with someone else. Their hyung was surprised to hear that she was already dating someone new and asked the man’s name.
It wasn’t a man’s name per say, it was Maman. A woman.
Another chuckle, “Rent, my friends, is due, or I’ll have to evict you. See you soon.” He said as his black haired lover showed up in the bedroom of her husband in blue lingerie. He hung up.
Hyojung began to play again as his friend hung up. Hui began recording once more. Suddenly the Fender stopped working. Of course. The power blows just as he’s getting to record again. It’s too dark right now, and people from the whole block would be looking for some place to stay or something to steal for a bit of cash. Attention turned from making the next groundbreaking documentary to securing what few important things they had before they were taken.
“How do you document real life when real life’s getting more like fiction each day?” the silver haired man asked. “Headlines, breadlines, and now this deadline. ‘Eviction or pay’?”
E’Dawn decided to jump in and complain about how he no longer had any inspiration for his writing, “How can you write a song when the notes sound wrong though they once sounded right and rare? When the notes are sour where is the power you once had to ignite the air?”
They were hungry and frozen and this was the life they had chosen. Some life, huh? But they had no jobs. No source of income. How were they supposed to pay a whole year of rent to their backstabbing buddy? Hui decided to light candles. Hyojong decided to look something that could be put into their “woodburning stove” when there was no wood in sight. Not much was in sight, but they knew their apartment inside and out. There had to be something. A chill ran down the songwriter’s spine.
“How can you generate heat when you can’t feel your feet and they’re turning blue?”
Hyojong found his old flyers, “You light up a mean blaze with posters!”
“And screenplays!” Hui added his own failed works to the trash bin which his friend flicked a match into.
The two boys couldn’t even afford a lighter. How were they supposed to afford that rent?
Maman was at the lot where her girlfriend would be performing trying to figure out how to get the microphone to work. Especially the reverb at a certain volume. It shocked her and she jumped back. Out of frustration, the light brown haired woman stood up and called her lovely...though sometimes unfaithful girlfriend Hwasa.
“Hey, darling. Did you eat?”
She instantly tried to change the subject. It was obvious that she hadn’t.
“But, darling, you haven’t eaten all day.”
Hwasa was worried about puking on stage and that was why she didn’t dare eat anything before her performance.
“You won’t throw up~ you won’t throw up!”
She sighed and said that she’d get a some ramyun or something. However, she did then ask how things were doing with the reverb.
Her girlfriend bit her lip nervously, “The digital delay didn’t blow up exactly~ There may have been one teensy, tiny, spark.”
“I’ll just call Hui then. He’s really good with this stuff.”
If there was one things among many other things Maman couldn’t stand was how that every time something digital or technical didn’t work, she’d want to call her ex. He was an ex for a reason. She was Hwasa’s significant other now, not that scarf wearing loser! Though they had never met, Maman’s lovely girlfriend always talked about the scarf she got him before they broke up. Never saying why they ended things in the first place. She had her ideas, though.
“You’re not calling Hui!”
~~~~
With only is coat sleeve left on his right arm, Namjoon wondered how people could survive in a world like this when every day was lived through random chance. Good or bad. Today was his bad luck of the draw since he had been beaten up and left in the cold once the thugs had taken his only coat. He already didn’t own much, and now this? Joon tried to get somewhere for help, but who would even help someone like him?
“Welcome back to town!” was how things should’ve gone. His head spun. “I should lie down. Everything’s brown and uh-oh. I feel sick!” He turned to puke on the nearest surface which happened to be a gutter.
“Where is he?” Hui asked as he threw another script page into the flames, wondering where his friend had gone after the key had been thrown down.
Namjoon was real dizzy and needed to rest. He couldn’t get help if he were dead. Maybe things would be better that way. No, no. He had to kept moving no matter how much his injuries hurt everytime he struggled to take a breath.
~~~~
Dawnie got the last of his flyers and posters from the wall wanting the fire to last as long as possible even though it probably wouldn’t even last the next hour. There was no way they could do anything to pay the rent they supposedly owed to their now holier than thou ex roommate.
On the street, Key hugged Hyuna tightly even kissing her cheek and giving her some of the cash he had just gotten from a job. He was going to his regular spot by the huge Christmas tree in the park to play on his bucket for cash. It was like a drum for him and sometimes even better offers came by. As soon as he left, Hyuna ran into her ex Choongmin and instead of actually talking to him, she darted in the other direction. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.
He was on the phone with his wife anyways, looking for his car now that he was done playing with one of his many mistresses. He wasn’t sure if that was his ex Hyuna or if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“Allison, baby, oh you sound sad.” But he ignored her quiet sobs and continued complaining about his own problems. “I can’t believe those two after everything I’ve done. Ever since our wedding, I’m dirt. They’ll see. I can help them all out in the long run.”
~~~~
Hui recorded the flames as more paper was thrown into it. Maman said that she wasn’t a theatre person and would never be a theatre person like her ex had been. That’s just how things were and if she couldn’t except it then--
Instead of listening to her most precious toy gripe about not being what she needed her to be, Hwasa called up Hui to sweetly ask if he’d help her set up her microphone for the show later tonight. Even though he said no the first time, he quickly said yes after she called him his favorite nickname.
“Ok, alright, I’ll go!” He said and hung up. Then Hui started looking for his coat.
There was just so much wrong with the world right now. Their personal situations didn’t help either. They were broke. Nothing they had tried to do prior even worked. Why were they even here? The stress was overwhelming when the raging, shifting winds of change kept ripping away at the fabric that was life.
“What do we do to combat...this?”
“Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand.” Minnie’s voice rang in their heads.
“Use your camera to spar.” Hyojung suggested.
Hui loved that camera too much, so he said, “Use your guitar.”
It felt like the world was screaming at them, “When they act tough, you call their bluff!”
They then decided they weren’t gonna pay that damn rent. They didn’t owe him a damn thing after the way he’d been treating them. They didn’t owe anyone but themselves and there was nothing to owe themselves as far as they saw. Not last year’s rent, not this year’s rent, and sure as hell not last year’s rent. Hell, everything was rent.
On the street once more, a homeless man was singing to himself, “Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing…” He looked around and scoffed. “Not here.” And held out his hand to a passerby who might have some change to spare.
He ignored the achy Namjoon holding his stomach and stifling his moans of agony. In his fuzzy brain, he knew he was trying to get to somewhere familiar after being dragged away and running but not escaping. He just couldn’t remember where exactly. Key was beating his bucket drum though he hadn’t gotten much money tonight. The holiday season was about giving, but not many people thought it applied to them.
It sounded like someone was in pain, so he stopped. Silence except for a few sirens in the distance. Then Key began to play again and saw him...an injured man with a torn beanie holding his stomach or his arm. He didn’t look so good. Then again, no one on these streets rarely did.
Key judged the situation and decided to ask, “Are you ok, honey?”
“I’m afraid so.” He joked weakly.
“They get any money?” He had probably been mugged.
Namjoon scoffed, “Had none to get. But they purloined my coat.” He held up the only remaining piece of it and screamed in the general direction of his attackers. “Well they missed a sleeve!”
Key jumped down from where he was playing with his bucket to get a closer look at the attractive stranger, handing him a rag to dab at his wounds. Namjoon thanked him.
“Hell, it’s Christmas Eve!” He sat down on his bucket while Joon struggled to tie the rag around his injury. “I’m Angel.” Key said, giving his stage name in case he turned out to be wrong about this guy.
“Angel~” Namjoon repeated.
When he looked at the stranger, his eyes grew. Angel was so god damn beautiful. Namjoon had never seen a man so attractive. He looked at him again and smiled.
“Indeed.” He licked his lips and lowered his glasses. “An angel of the first degree. Friends call me Joon, Namjoon.”
The lights of the tree came on since it was now dark enough for them to be seen in their full beauty. It was as if a halo of light surrounded the two men. Angel. Angels were blessing this very meeting between Key and Namjoon. The two looked at the Christmas lights in sync and smiled at the splendor.
Namjoon spoke up, “Nice tree.”
Key smiled and launched into his plan since Namjoon seemed like a good guy, and he obviously needed help.
“Let’s get a Band-Aid for your knee. I’ll change. I’ve got a life support meeting at 9:30.” Catching himself he explained. “Yes this body provides a comfortable home for the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.”
“As does mine.” Joon admitted.
He was surprised, “We’ll get along fine. Get you a coat, have a bit, make a night.” The chipper man grabbed Namjoon’s and took him along to help with the healing process, maybe get some meds. “I’m flush.”
The younger man was happy to go along with it, but then he remembered he was supposed to meet with Hui and E’Dawn, “My friends are waiting…” He tried to say.
Instead, Key looked at him, “You’re cute when you blush. The more the merry, ho ho ho~” and booped his squat nose. “And I do not take no.”
He continued to pull along a limping Namjoon. Despite the pain he felt all over his body, the injured man smiled at the hope of being treated so well by a complete stranger. The fact that this stranger was so very handsome didn’t add to the pain, either. He’d get to his friends sooner or later.
Hyojong moved an empty bucket under the hole in the ceiling and when he turned around, he saw Hui with his warmest and least torn up jacket in his hands.
“Where are you going?” He asked.
To which Hui replied, “Hwasa calls.”
The musician scoffed, “You’re such a sucker.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to see her show at the lot tonight or come to dinner? “ He held out his friend’s leather jacket.
“Zoom in on my empty wallet.” Hyojong made the movement with his hand and picked up his guitar once more.
“Touche.” The he reminded his friend, “Take your AZT.”
Close on Hyojong, his girlfriend Jieun left a note saying “We’ve got AIDS” before slitting her wrists in the bathroom. He hadn’t been the same since then. Still, he did as told and took the pills that held off his illness for another day.
As he set the leather jacket on the table, Hui said, “Check up on you later. If you change your mind...you have to get out of the house.”
The blonde turned around without replying and began tuning his guitar once more, black painted fingernails picking at the strings. His friend sighed and left the house, sliding the door open and letting it close with a thud that resonated deeply within Hyojong.
“I’m writing one great song before I…” He couldn’t help playing the familiar tune his fingers went to whenever he thought of her. Whenever he tried to play anything else, it just didn’t sound good. He growled in frustration and put his guitar down.
What did he want?
One song. Glory. One song before I go. Glory. One song to leave behind. He wanted to find one song, one last refrain. Glory from the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity.
He remembered one song that had the world at his feet and caused glory in the eyes of a young girl. A young girl. Everyone was chanting his name, “E’Dawn! E’Dawn! E’Dawn!” but that wasn’t how things were anymore. Now he had to find glory beyond the cheap colored lights one song before the sun sets.
Glory on another empty life.
“Time flies.” He said to himself. “Time dies! Glory!”
One blaze of glory. One blaze of glory. Glory!
“Find glory the song that reigns true. Truth like a blazing fire.” He hovered his fingers above the illegal woodburning stove. “An eternal flame. Find one song...A song about love.”
Glory from the soul of a young man. A young man. He had to find the one song before the virus takes hold. Glory like a sunset. One song to redeem this empty life he had made.
Still, he had it in his head that time flies and then there would be no need to endure anymore. That time dies since time didn’t matter without her.
A knock on the door broke Hyojong out of his memories. It was probably Hui having left something behind.
As he opened the door, the man asked, “What’d you forget?”
Hyojong wasn’t expecting to see a young girl with fire for hair and bright red lips. She had on a white crop top and ripped jeans. There was a army green shawl or something draped on her shoulders as well. He had to blink.
“Got a light?” She asked.
He let her in and looked for his box of matches, “I know you. You’re shiving.”
To which she replied, “It's nothing, they turned off my heat and I'm just a little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?” She held it out to him and then raised an eyebrow. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing, uh your hair in the moonlight?” He tried to play it off and struck a match to light the white candle she held. “You look familiar.”
She got a bit wobbly while walking to the door, and so he reached out to catch her, letting their eyes lock for just a moment. “Can you make it?”
The girl nodded and sashayed over to the window, “Just haven't eaten much today at least the room stopped spinning, anyway. What?” She caught his gaze once more.
Hyojong quickly looked away, “Nothing...your smile reminded me of--”
“I always remind people of…” The red head rolled her eyes. “Who is she?”
“She died, her name was Jieun.”
Not wanting to talk about it, the girl blew out the candle and held it out to the blonde stranger, “It's out again. Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?”
And so he did, this time the light flickered right between their faces making her eyes glow even more than before in their innocent yet mischievously charming way. He wanted to say something but not much came to mind as the mutual gazing continued.
“Well…”
“Yeah?” She tilted her head before pulling one of her hands back. “Ow!”
Getting nervous, Hyojong said, “Oh, the wax, it's--”
“Dripping!” The girl started to slide her legs up the middle of his, slowly as he said, “I like it between my…”
He pulled away, blushing, “Fingers, I figured..Oh, well, goodnight.”
Hyojong realized he had been holding his breath the entire time and finally allowed himself to exhale once the door was closed. However, the door closing had made the light go out once more, and so she knocked on the door.
“It blew out again?” He chuckled, slightly frowning when she came in without even glancing at him.
“No, I think that I dropped my stash.” She searched the ground with her eyes.
So Hyojong let her look as he leaned against the table, trying to recall why he recognized her, “I know I've seen you out and about...When I used to go out.” He pointed. “Your candle's out.”
She sighed at her candlestick and while retracing her steps, “I'm illin', I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure. Is it on the floor?”
The woman got on the ground using her hands and knees to look under the table, and the way her curves filled out the tight jeans she was wearing…
“The floor?” Hyojong repeated as he couldn’t even try to remove his eyes from her form.
She smirked and chuckled, “They say that I have the best ass below 14th Street, is it true?” She said with a little hip wiggle.
“What?”
“You're staring again.” She beamed with another eyebrow raise.
He began to blush and his eyes frantically looked not at her, “Oh no, I mean you do, have a nice--I mean.You look familiar.” Hyojong tried to change the subject back to their previous conversation.
“Like your dead girlfriend?”
“Only when you smile, but I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else.”
That’s when the redhead nodded, “Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club? That's where I work, I dance. Help me look!”
“Yes!” He said, smirking at the memory, “They used to tie you up.”
“It's a living.” She shrugged.
“I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs.” He got in front of her eye line and held his wrists together above his head, letting himself smile a bit.
The strange girl smiled too for a bit and then continued to look, now standing, “We could light the candle. Oh, won't you light the candle?”
Another match was struck to light the used wick, but still Hyojong had to say something knowing another reason why she felt so familiar, “Why don't you forget that stuff? You look like you're sixteen.” “Add ten, still I'm old for my age. I'm just born to be bad!” She did a little dance as she went to another area of the room to see if she could find what she needed.
Hyojong folded his arms, “I once was born to be bad. I used to shiver like that.
She shooed away his concern, “I have no heat, I told you--”
“I used to sweat--”
“I got a cold.”
Not convinced, “Uh huh, I used to be a junkie.”
“But now and then I like to…”
“Uh huh”
“Feel good.”
Seeing the small packet on the floor, Hyojong picked it up, “Oh, here it…”
She whipped her head around, “What's that?”
“It's uh candy bar wrapper.” He hid it in his back pocket.
Playing coy, the woman approached him, “We could light the candle…” which he playfully blew out. “Oh, what'd you do with my candle?”
She began to chase him, lunging for his pocket, but Hyojong moved out of the way before she could catch him.
“That was my last match.” He said, leaning against the metal table.
“Our eyes'll adjust. Thank God for the moon” She did the same.
“Maybe it's not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street.”
She pouted and scooted her hand towards his, “Bah humbug, bah humbug~”
“Cold hands…” but he didn’t pull away.
“Yours too.” She tucked a fiery strand behind her ear and turned his palm upwards, “Big, like my father's.” Then she twirled, letting her shawl flutter around her. “Do you wanna dance?”
“With you?”
“No, with abeoji.” She teased.
“I’m Hyojong-ie.”
Her leaning forward made him lean back and he didn’t notice where her hands were going, “And the name of your noona is...Hyuna~”
She pulled her hand back revealing the small back of drugs was back in her possession and left the room before he could get it back. She giggled and winked at him before she dashed down the steps. He sighed, letting her go.
Yeah. It was better to just let her go.
Somewhere a phone waited unanswered and so the callers got the answering machine instead which rambled, “Hi you’ve reached Hwasa and Maman, leave a message. Don’t forget OVER THE MOON, my performance protesting the eviction of the homeless and artist from the 11th street lot tonight. The lot between A and B. Party at Life Cafe to follow!”
It was Maman’s parents.
“Well, Maman, we’re off. I tried you at the office and they said you were ‘stage managing’ or something.”
His wife searched her purse in the background, but her voice could still be heard on the recording, “Remind her that those unwed mothers in Harlem need her legal help too.”
He nodded, “Call Daisy for our itinerary or Alfred at Pound Ridge or Eileen at the state department in a pinch. We'll be at the spa for new year's unless the senator changes his mind.”
“The hearings.”
“Oh yes, Kitten. Eomma's confirmation hearing begins on the tenth. We'll need you--alone--by the sixth.”
She scolded her husband for adding such unnecessary info, “Yeobo!”
He cracked a smile, “You hear that? It's three weeks away and she's already nervous.”
“I am not!”
“For Eomma's sake, Kitten no Doc Martens this time and wear a dress. Oh, and Kitten, have a merry…”
“And a bra!!” Since she didn’t tend to wear one as she favored a more butch fashion style personally.
It turned out that Hui did forget something (his charger) and ended up returning to his apartment to get it. However, when there was a knock on the door, he forgot what he was meant to do since only one man could knock that way.
It was Namjoon, finally!
Hui even joked as he set up the camera for a good angle, “Enter, Kim Namjoon: computer genius, teacher, vagabond anarchist who ran naked through the Parthanon.”
The beanie wearing genius tossed groceries to the nearest person who tossed it to the next who tossed it in the makeshift kitchen. Bustelo, some kimchi, banana by the bunch. A box of Captain Crunch will taste so good!
“And firewood!” Namjoon held up a thick ass log.
Hui was glad to see his friend again, “Look, it's Santa Claus!”
He paused and nudged E’Dawn, “Hold your applause.”
“Oh, hi.” The blonde replied.
“Tsk ‘Oh, hi’ after seven months?”
He chuckled, “Sorry.”
Namjoon grabbed the unmistakable bottle out of his bag, “This boy could use some Jinro.”
The two cheery boys wrapped their arms around Hyojong and sang, “Oh holy night!”
E’Dawn moved away from them, “You struck gold at MIT?”
He shook his head, “They expelled me for my theory of Actual Reality which I'll soon impart to the couch potatoes at New York University.” then be pat his mopey friend on the back. “Still haven't left the house?”
“I was waiting for you, don't you know?” He replied.
“Well, tonight's the night! Come to the Life Cafe after Maureen's show!” He responded happily.
“No flow.” Meaning Hyojong was broke.
Namjoon then went to the door and put his hand on the knob, “Gentlemen, our benefactor on this Christmas Eve whose integrity is only matched by talent, I believe. A new member of the Alphabet City avant-garde Kim Kibum, jagi~” He opened the door.
The two other men looked at each other since it had been forever since he used that term for anyone. What was even more unexpected was to see a firm but slim body in a bright red Christmas dress with white fur trim, zebra print leggings, and Mary Janes. Her hair was in two curled ponytails with white pom-poms on the bands.
She(?) twirled in and it was as if a harp was playing as she did so. Then she displayed two thick piles of cash, one to each of the boys.
“Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” Her(?) glittering red lips formed.
The men grabbed it and then stared at her in awe. “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.”
Namjoon added, “And you should hear her beat.”
“You earned this on the street?” Hui thought Namjoon had fallen for a prostitute with two drum sticks tucked in her zebra printed belt.
She shook her head, “It was my lucky day today on Avenue A when a lady in a limousine drove my way. She said: ‘Darling be a dear. Haven’t slept in a year. I need your help to make my neighbor's yappy dog disappear.’”  This Akita, Evita, just won't shut up. He criss-crossed over to the bucket that all the groceries had been carried in and began to bang rhythmically on it. “I believe if you play nonstop that pup will breathe its very last high strung breath. I'm certain that cur will bark itself to death."
Then she repeated her cute little phrase, “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me. Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” and then continued her story. “We agreed on a fee A $1000 guarantee tax free, and a bonus if I trim her tree. Now who could foretell that it would go so well, but sure as I am here that dog is now in doggy hell.”
She climbed up on the latter near the door, “After an hour, Evita in all her glory--On the window ledge of that 23rd story.” She used her drum sticks to count upwards. “Like Thelma and Louise did when they got the blues, wwan dove into the courtyard of the Gracie Mews.”
“Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.” The girl leaped off in heels to be closer to the boys who were beating out a rhythm on their own random pieces of furniture. “Today 4 U. Tomorrow for me.”
The beautiful girl broke into a drum solo on the table and the walls and even the chairs, sounding very good and skilled, not even breaking a sweat or messing up as she moved from surface from surface frolicking and bringing up the mood. Even twirling and jumping on the table without missing a beat.
“Back on the street where I met my sweet,” He caressed Namjoon’s hat and moved down to his face to grab his chin. “Where he was moaning and groaning on the cold concrete. The nurse took him home for some Madecassol, and I dressed his wounds and got him back on his feet! Sing it!”
The other joined in, feeling amused at themselves for quite enjoying this tale of their friend’s new lover about killing a dog.
“Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me. Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me. I said Today 4 U. Tomorrow 4 me.”
Then she sat on a spinning office chair and motioned for one of them to give her a spin, which Hyojong ended up doing.
“Today 4 U. Tomorroooooow 4 me!” She landed with her black heels firmly on the ground and struck a pose.
Then Key hugged Namjoon and the boys laughed having a grand old time until a familiar voice sang out, “Joy to the world…” before looking out the window and yelling. “Hey you bum! Yeah, you, move over! Get your ass off that Range Rover!”
Everyone rolled their eyes at Park Choongmin who took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.
Hui spoke up, “That attitude toward the homeless is just what Hwasa is protesting tonight.” He turned his camera on himself. “Close up: Park Choongmin the third. Our ex-roommate who married Alison Grey, of the Westport Greys. Then bought the building and the lot next door from his father-in-law, in hopes of starting a cyber-studio.”
“Hwasa is protesting losing her performance space not my attitude.” He posed and grinned once he saw the camera on him. Namjoon covered the lense, not wanting anything positive about him to be recorded.
E’Dawn spoke, “What happened to Choog-ie? What happened to his heart and the ideals he once pursued?”
“Any owner of that lot next door has a right to do with it as he pleases.” He shot back.
To which Namjoon replied by raising the soju bottle, “Happy birthday, Jesus!” While trying to remind the greedy man of his conscience.
“The rent.” He held out his hand.
“You're wasting your time.” Hui said.
“We're broke.” Hyojong added.
“And you broke your word. This is absurd!”
Choogmin tried to sweet talk them, “There is one way you won't have to pay~”
“I knew it!” The blonde scoffed.
Looking out the side window, the businessman let his imagination run wild, “Next door, the home of Cyberarts, you see and now that the block is re-zoned, our dream can become a reality! You'll see boys. You'll see boys~!” He saw it wasn’t working, so he tried explaining his vision a different way.
“A state of the art, digital, virtual interactive studio. I'll forego your rent and on paper guarantee that you can stay here for free...if you do me one small favor.”
Hui asked with a straight face, “What?”
“Convince Maureen to cancel her protest.” He batted his reptilian eyes.
“Why not just get an injunction or call the cops?”
The snake replied, “I did, and they're on stand by. But my investors would rather I handle this quietly.”
Hyojong scoffed, “You can't quietly wipe out an entire tent city then watch It's a Wonderful Life on TV!”
“You want to produce films and write songs?” He spoke to their passions. “You need somewhere to do it! It's what we used to dream about. Think twice before you pooh-pooh it. You'll see boys. You'll see boys…?” He lifted Key’s skirt to see if the audience was actually all men.
Rude and uncalled for, and Namjoon put Key behind him and glared at Park Choongmin who backed up and sat on the table.
His hands arched in the sky, “You'll see the beauty of a studio that lets us do our work and get paid. With condos on the top. Whose rent keeps open our shop. Just stop the protest and you'll have it made. You'll see…” He put his sunglasses back on. “Or you'll pack.”
He escaped before he could get any more backlash.
Key scoffed, “That boy could use some prozac.”
“Or heavy drugs.” E’Dawn suggested.
“Or group hugs.” Hui said, getting confused and amused stares in return. “Which reminds me…” Namjoon said, scoffing. “We have a detour to make tonight. Anyone who wants to can come along.” He said pointedly to Hyojong.
Key replied, “Life support's a group for people coping with life. You don't have to stay too long.”
Hui threw his jacket back on, “First I've got a protest to save.”
“Roger?” She asked.
He shook his head, “I'm not much company you'll find.”
“Behave!” Hui lightly scolded his pessimism.
“He'll catch up later. He's just go other things on his mind.” Key said. “You'll see, boys!”
Hui and Namjoon chuckled but agreed at this turn around of phrase, “We'll see, boys.”
Hyojong scoffed, “Let it be, boys!”
Namjoon smiled at Key, “I like boys.”
And Key smiled back, “Boys like me.”
Silently they just decided to go along their lives while they waited for Hyojong to come around sooner or later. They’d see.
~~~~
So, now we follow Hui as he went to go help Hwasa fix her microphone or something or other as he did when they were dating. Even when they weren’t dating, until she fired him as her production manager. Anyways, Hui would always be there for Hwasa one way or another since he still had a soft spot for her.
Using his phone, he filmed himself, “And so into the abyss, the lot where a small stage is partially set up.”
“Line in…” a voice mumbled from inside. “I went to Harvard for this?”
“Close on Hui’s nosedive.” He walked inside and took a moment to pause.
“Line out…?”
The man asked himself, “Will he get out of here alive?”
Then the honey blonde woman gawked as she saw the only man that would show up here, “Hui?”
Even he stopped to take in the situation, “Hi.” He gave a bow.
“I told her not to call you!”
Hui shrugged, “That's Hwasa, but can I help since I'm here?”
He approached the box surrounded by wires of all sorts. Maman quickly walked in front of it, her red scarf flying momentarily as she moved quickly to stop him.
Then she acted casually, “I've hired an engineer…”
“Great!” He replied with a tense smile. “Well then, nice to have…” he started to turn around.
“Wait!” Maman said, swallowing her pride. “She's 3 hours late!”
Hui joined her at the box while she explained, “The samples won’t delay but the cable--”
He nodded, “There’s another way. Say something, anything.” He motioned to the microphone.
Maman said the typical theatre thing she thought of, “Test, 1, 2, 3.”
The film nerd rolled his eyes, “Anything but that.”
She sighed, “This is weird.”
“It’s weird.” He agreed.
“Very weird.”
“Fucking weird.” He said with a head tilt.
“I’m so mad that I don’t know what to do. Fighting with microphones, freezing down to my bones, and to top it all off I’m with you.”
This was very familiar to Hui, “Feel like going insane, got a fire in your brain, and you’re thinking of drinking gasoline?”
Maman couldn’t help but nod, “As a matter of fact--”
“Honey, I know this act. It’s called the Tango: Maureen.” He did a tango pose. “The Tango: Maureen. It’s a dark, dizzy, merry go round. As she keeps you dangling…”
“You’re wrong!”
“Your heart she is mangliiiing.”
“It’s different with me!”
“And you toss and you turn cause her cold eyes can burn, yet you yearn and you churn and rebound.”
The long haired blonde paused at how deja vu this all sounded, “I think I know what you mean…”
Together, they said, “The Tango: Maureen~.”
Not so much focused on the tech, Hui asked, “Has she ever pouted her lips and called you ‘Aein?’”
Proudly, Maman crossed her arms, “Never.”
“Have you ever doubted a kiss or two?”
She bit her lip, “This is spooky.” Then she took her chance to ask her own questions. “Did you swoon when she walked through the door?”
“Every time, so be....cautious.”
“Did she moon over other boys?.”
Looking directly into her eyes, “More than moon.”
She held her stomach, “I’m getting nauseous.”
Hui stood in the middle of the stage and held out his hand. He cleared his throat and motioned her over. Maman looked behind herself. Surely, he wasn’t asking her? But he was. So she looked him up and down and unbuttoned her jacket and took off her scarf to have less hindrance. Then she took her hand. The two began to tango on the stage as naturally as if they had been dancing together for years.
This took Hui by surprise, so he asked, “Where’d you learn to tango?”
“With the French ambassador's daughter in her dorm room at Ms. Porters and you?”
They paused, “With Moon Dahye, the president’s daughter at the Korean Sundance Film afterparty.”
Giving a cocky smirk, Maman began to take the lead flawlessly while Hui had some trouble following. As a man, he never had to do it before.
“It’s hard to do this backwards.” he admitted.
To which Maman dipped and said, “You should try it in heels.” which she never really wore nowadays. She then dropped him while realizing how absurd this whole things was and finally admitted to herself. “She cheated.”
“She cheated!” He said in a sure tone as he stood up.
“Maureen cheated.”
“Fucking cheated.”
“I’m defeated, I should give up right now,” She said, pulling her hair out of its too tight bun.
Hui tried to cheer her up, “Gotta look on the bright side with all of your might.”
“I’d fall for her still anyhow,” She conceded.
With a playful wiggle of his hip (which got a laugh in return) the two began to tango together once more. They realized when you’re dancing her dance, you don’t stand a chance. Her grip of romance makes you fall.
“So you think might as well--”
“Dance a tango to hell.” She finished.
At least they’ll have tangoed at all. They did the Tango: Maureen where you gotta dance ‘til your diva is through. They had pretended to believe her ‘cause in the end they couldn’t leave her. But the end it will come, still they had to play dumb ‘til they're glum and they bum and turn blue.
Out loud, Hui asked, “Why do we love when she’s mean?” as he returned to the box.
“And she can be so obscene!” She said, lifting her boobs and squishing them together in her dress shirt.
“Try the mic.” He said.
Into the microphone, Maman spoke, “My Maureen~” and the “een” part reverberated like it was meant to.
Raising his arm in success, the film nerd smiled, “Patched!”
“Thanks!” Maman said, returning her hair into its bun since her parents would disown her if she ever cut it.
“You know, I feel great now!” He said with a chuckle knowing the Maureen he knew never really changed.
To which Maman pouted, “I feel lousy!”
Then her phone, which was resting on a table, rang. Hui was gonna pick it up to give to her, but instead she stopped him with a, “Nuh-uh-uh.”
He raised his hands in defeat.
After collecting herself, she answered, “Hey, honey, we’re--AEIN?”
Hui started to laugh until he caught the blonde woman’s glare. She put on a smile.
“You’ve never called me aein before!” The man stifled a laugh, and she looked at him once more. “Forget it. We’re patched.” She hung up.
They looked at each other, “The Tango: Maureen.” and sighed.
At the Life Support Meeting, everyone introduced themselves. “Jae”, “Matthew”, “Sunhee”, “Bom”, “Krystal”
“Hi, I’m Key.��
“Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.” He bowed to the leader.
“I'm Jiyong. Let's begin.” They began to speak the affirmation, “There's only us. There's only this …”
And Hui entered, interrupting, “Sorry ... Excuse me ... oops.”
“And you are?” Jiyong asked in a patient voice.
“Oh, I'm not--I'm just here to--I don't have--I'm here with--” He waved to Key and Namjoon who smiled back. “Um--Hui. Hui, I'm Hui.” He looked around. “Well...this is quite an operation. Can I?”
He pointed to the camera, and everyone nodded once they heard it was just a life documentary and not news.
Jiyong smiled softly, “We'll continue the affirmation.”
Everyone picked up where they left off, “Forget, regret or life is yours to miss.”
Matthew spoke up, “Excuse me, hyung. I'm having a problem with this, this credo. My T-cells are low. I regret that news, okay?”
“Alright, but Matthew, how do you feel today?”
He looked around, uncomfortable, “What do you mean?”
“How do you feel today?”
“Okay?” He shrugged.
“Is that all?” the older man pushed forward.
He sighed, “Best I've felt all year.”
“Then why choose fear?”
Matthew chuckled, “I'm a millennial; fear's my life!” He sighed. “Look, I find some of what you teach suspect because I'm used to relying on intellect, but I try to open up to what I don't know. Because reason says I should have died three years ago.”
The last part caused Hui paused as that last sentence sounded like something Hyojong would’ve said. Probably had said before.
Still, they pushed on, “No other road. No other way. No day but today.”
Hui continued recording.
Rock and roll. The absolute shredding of a guitar. Add drums. That’s what made up Hyuna’s soul. She sang and performed to the music in sparkly blue lingerie, with her hair pinned up and ready for action.
“What's the time? Well it's gotta be close to midnight. My body's talking to me, and it says:”
“Time for danger!” Her frequent visitors screamed out loud.
She giggled, “It says ‘I wanna commit a crime’ ‘wanna be the cause of a fight’ ‘Wanna put on a tight skirt and flirt with a stranger.” She leaned in front of a obviously horny man with a dumb smile on his face. Five bucks from five people already.
“I've had a knack from way back at breaking the rules once I learn the games. Get up. Life's too quick. I know someplace sick where this chick'll dance in the flames.” Another $200 with a couple of boob wiggles and more singing. “We don't need any money. I always get in for free. You can get in too if you get in with me.”
She blew a kiss to one side of the room while walking to a rather expensive looking target, “Let's go out tonight. I have to go out tonight!” She let down her hair and slitter fell out of it onto the mans lap before she sat.
A rather tough and stoic man covered in tats stood next to the clients to make sure they didn’t touch while they were looking.
“You wanna play? Let's run away; we won't be back before it's Christmas day.” She was lifted up by some stage dancers to make her body look like a cross. “Take me out tonight…” She leaned closely into and older man’s ear and whispered, “Meow!”
And snatched away a thick stack with a, “Ha!”
Her shift was over, so she walked home to her place in glittery, strappy heels and sung to herself, “When I get a wink from the doorman, do you know how lucky you'll be that you're on line with the feline of Avenue B?”
Hyuna set her bag inside her apartment now in white leggings with bananas on them, knee high yellow boots, and a matching crop top as she continued to party by herself.
“Let's go out tonight. I have to go out tonight. You wanna prowl, be my night owl? Well take my hand we're gonna howl, out tonight!”
Then she got to the fire escape through her window and sat on the edge, “In the evening I've got to roam. Can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome. Feels too damn much like home, when the Korean babies cry. So let's find a bar, so dark we forget who we are,” Hyuna grabbed onto the stairs above and yelled into the night, “Where all the scars from the nevers and maybes die!”
She started to climb when she saw blonde hair walking past the upstairs window, “Let's go out tonight! Have to go out tonight. You're sweet wanna hit the street? Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat? Just take me out tonight!” She knocks on the window and is let in by Hyojong.
Hyuna entered saying, “Please take me out tonight~” When he ignored her and went to play his guitar, she took it from him. “Don't forsake me, out tonight!” Then the red head  got up on her knees while she was on the table, “I'll let you make me out tonight!”
She tried everything to get him to say yes. Tonight. Every pose and flirt. Tonight. Hyuna wanted him. Tonight.
The red head was even able to get his hands wrapped around her waist and went in for a kiss before she was rejected and he moved away from her.
“Who do you think you are barging in on me and my guitar? Little girl, hey, the door is that way!”
Quietly Hyuna said, “It’s noona.”
“You better go you know the fire is out anyway. Take your powder. Take your candle. Your sweet whisper I just can't handle. Well take your hair in the moonlight your brown eyes goodbye, goodnight.”
He thought to himself, I should tell you. I should tell you. I should--he felt her creeping up on his shoulders.
“No!” Hyojong couldn’t let himself go through this again. “Another time, another place our temperature would climb. There'd be a long embrace. We'd do another dance; it'd be another play. Looking for romance? Come back another day. Another day!” He leaned on the table facing away from her.
Hyuna wanted to ease his pain and comfort him, “The heart may freeze or it can burn. The pain will ease if I can learn, there is no future. There is no past. I live this moment as my last!” She tried to reason with him by saying the words she had been taught.  “There's only us. There's only this. Forget, regret or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other way. No day but today!”
It got Hyojong to look at her, but he was just to angry at her ruining her own life, “Excuse me if I'm off track, but if you're so wise then tell me why do you need smack! Take your needle, take your fancy prayer. Don’t forget get the moonlight out of your hair!”
She stood and looked at her fiery locks in confusion.
He admitted, “Long ago you might’ve lit up my heart, but the fire’s dead and ain't never ever gonna start!” He paced the room silently wishing for it to be “Another time, another place, the words would only rhyme. We'd be in outer space. It'd be another song we'd sing another way. You wanna prove me wrong? Come back another day. Another day!”
The red headed Hyuna began to leave, but her heart wouldn’t let herself give up on him, “There's only yes, only tonight. We must let go to know what's right. No other course. No other way. No day but today.”
She couldn’t control her destiny while E’Dawn tried to control what he could, such as his temper and yet he was mad that she couldn’t see what she was doing to herself. The road she was going down if she kept doing these poisons.
“I trust my soul!”
“Who says that there's a soul?” He replied.
Hyuna kept going, “My only goal is just to be.”
Hyojong spat back, “Just let me be.”
Still aching for something more, she tried again using the words she was taught, the ones that seemed to resonate with him, “There's only now. There's only here.”
Talking over her, he asked once again to her face, “Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar?”
“Give into love or live in fear.” He pulled away from her embrace as she continued, “No other past, no other way!”
“Little girl, hey, the door is that way!”
They were too caught up in their own emotions that they weren’t listening to the other person. Both were so passionate. Hyuna wanted him to be open and love her as she felt they were meant to be together, but Hyojong couldn’t let himself be open. Not again. Not by someone like her. Who deserved better than him.
“No day but today!” She said.
“The fire’s out anyway.” Though he didn’t really want it to be.
No day but today.
“Take your powder. Take your candle.”
No day but today.
“Take your brown eyes, your pretty smile, your silhouette.” Why wouldn’t she just leave? Did he want her to stay?
No day but today.
“Another time, another place, another rhyme, a warm embrace.”
“No day but today!” Her voice sounded like it was begging now.
He couldn’t waver, “Another dance, another way, another chance, another day!”
No day but today! It wasn’t just her saying it now, but his own mind.
Hyuna tried to kiss him, but he turned away once more. She couldn’t take another rejection...so she left out the front door holding back tears and not knowing that he was trying to do the same. That he was trying to ask you to come back, but Hyojong’s aching heart wouldn’t let him call out to her.
Hyojong picked up his guitar, his safety blanket of sorts. “I’m writing one great song, before I…”
It’s strange when you think about humanity and all the troubles we go through just trying to get by. Some people think they only have themselves while others are frightened to reach out to the people they know they have. Fear is a very real thing. It’s toxic and can still even the surest of movements if it’s let in for just a moment.
Worrying thoughts such as Will I lose my dignity? Tend to stir in one’s mind as they wonder what will happen if they admit something is wrong with them or if they need help. That leads to Will someone care? All in all, people tend to question everything and have no idea what the future holds. That’s impossible to know, but they still ask Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
And the answer can make or break them.
Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
Ask yourself these questions, and then live long enough to find the answer. Don’t forget there’s always another tomorrow, and you never have to do today again.
As Namjoon, Key, Hui, and now Hyojong walked the streets to Christmas bells were ringing. They saw a man with wet sleeves holding a bucket and a squeegee. He approached a car stopped at a red light and cleaned its window.
When he went to collect his fee for cleaning, he gave a warm smile, “Honest living, man!” And yet the car sped off. “Feliz Navidad.” and scoffed, sitting back on the side of the road.
There were homeless people sleeping all around the lot, just loitering and not bothering anyone. Not for real. Maybe asking a passerby for money to eat but that’s about it.
One of the men in the warmest clothes he could find and probably the only clothing he owned greeted three officers who patrolled the area on foot, “Evening, officers.”
Apparently they didn’t like his attitude, for the first one started to grab the man’s collar. Hui jumped in with his cell phone and the others did the same.
“Smile for YouTube, Officer Martin.” Hui did a close up of the man’s name tag.
They let him go and left. The homeless man had the last word, “And a Merry Christmas to your family!”
“Right…” You could see he wanted to flip the homeless man off.
As Hui continued to film, he saw a person carrying a lot of bags.
Apparently, they didn’t like being filmed, “Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't need no goddamn help from some bleeding heart cameraman. My life's not for you to make a name for yourself on.”
Key interrupted with a soft voice, “Easy, sugar, easy. He was just trying to--”
They weren’t having it, “Just trying to use me to kill his guilt. It's not that kind of movie, honey.” They talked to their pink haired companion. “Let's go. This lot is full of motherfucking artists!” Still… “Hey, artist, you gotta dollar?”
The companion shook a styrofoam cup, but Hui had no money to give.
“I thought not.” They scoffed and moved onto their train.
Wanting to move the awkward moment along, Key said, “New York City!” and did jazz hands to distract them. “Center of the universe.”
“Sing it, girl--” Namjoon said.
“Times are shitty, but I'm pretty sure they can't get worse.”
“I hear that.” Hui nodded.
“It's a comfort to know when you're singing the hit the road blues that anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be…” He used his deepest voice. “A pleasure cruise.”
The others laughed at the sudden change in tone.
Namjoon agreed, “Now you're talking.” Then he paused. “Well, I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle, and I'm sick of grading papers that I know. Now I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle. All this misery pays no salary, so...Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Oh, sunny Santa Fe would be nice. We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe, and leave this to the roaches and mice” He sighed, “Ohhhh-oohhh-ooo-oh-ohh”
“You teach?” Asked Key
“Yeah, I teach. Computer age philosophy while my students would rather watch TV.”
She chuckled, “America.”
“America!” The whole train seemed to echo.
He then decided to charm Key some more, “You're a sensitive aesthete, brush the sauce onto the meat. You could make the menu sparkle with a rhyme. You could drum a gentle drum,” Namjoon patted the bucket. “I could seat guests as they come. Chatting not about Heidegger, but wine!” He grinned as he linked arms with Hyojong and ‘seated’ him in a new spot on the train as if he were a customer. “Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe. Our labors would reap financial gain.” He pointed at E’Dawn, Hui, and Key in turn each singing higher that the last.
“Gain”
“Gain”
“Gain”
“We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe and save from devastation our brains.”
They chanted after him, “Save our brains.”
“We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away, devote ourselves to projects that sell. We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe! Forget this cold Bohemian hell.”
This time it was one of the street performers on the train who sang along to his sighs, “Ohhhh- oohhh-ooo-oh-ohh. Whoa~”
Namjoon smiled and leaned bowed as the doors slid open letting Key go first to step carefully over the gap in his heels.
“Do you know the way to Santa Fe? You know, tumbleweeds... prairie dogs…”
Everyone grinned in unison, “Yeah…”
Then Hui and Hyojong said that they would catch the two later since it seemed the blonde had something he wanted to talk about something. Or someone. The other two agreed and continued to just walk around.
“Alone at last.” Key acted cute to get his attention.
Namjoon was nervous, “He’ll be right back, I promise.” and went to pick up the bucket that had been left behind.
“I’ve been hearing violins all night.” He tried to drop a stronger hint to see if his love interest would pick it up as well.
“Anything to do with me?” He asked, genuinely curious and hopeful. “Are we a thing?”
Key took the bucket out of his hands and held them himself, “Jagiya, we’re everything.” She hugged him from behind, “Live in my house, I'll be your shelter. Just pay me back with one thousand kisses. Be my lover, and I'll cover you.”
Oblivious as always, the warmly dressed man could only hope he was asking to be official and faced his love, “Open your door, I'll be your tenant. Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet, but sweet kisses I've got to spare. I'll be there and I'll cover you.”
The grin he got in return confirmed it. It felt as though their hearts were singing to each other since they were too shy to do it out loud on the street like this. Their hearts beat out, I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life.
They began to be that stupidly cute couple you rarely see and just danced on the street no longer caring who saw them since it was just the two of them that mattered. Their hearts still sang, Just slip me on, I'll be your blanket. Wherever, whatever I'll be your coat.
Placing an imaginary crown on his lover’s head, Key stood on his tippy toes, “You'll be my king, and I'll be your castle.”
“No, you'll be my queen, and I'll be your moat.” Namjoon made a wavy motion with his arms. Then he spoke what his heart had said earlier. “I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love. Now I know you can rent it. A new lease, you are my love. On life, be my life.”
She nodded, “I've longed to discover something as true as this is.”
“So, with a thousand sweet kisses…”
“If you're cold and you're lonely”
“I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses.”
“You've got one nickel only.”
“I'll cover you”
“With a thousand sweet kisses,” Key said it first this time.
Namjoon let her, “When you're worn out and tired…”
“I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses”
“When your heart has expired”
Key promised, “I'll cover you.”
Together, they belted out everything they had in their heart that had become one with this confession of feelings and display of affection, “Oh, lover I'll cover you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh, lover.”
They held each other closely, “I'll cover you.”
Then they kissed and decided to continue their stroll elsewhere.
To check in with Maman, she was on the phone sorting things out at her office, “Steve? Joanne The Murget case?” She asked for the verdict. “A dismissal! Good work counselor! We're okay!”
Then her cell phone rang showing a cute photo of Hwasa, “Jagiya, wait, I'm on the other phone. Yes, I have the cowbell. We're okay.”
She switched back to her office phone, “So tell them we'll sue, but a settlement will do. Sexual harassment and civil rights, too. Steve, you're great.” Catching something that Hwasa said, Maman replied. “No, you cut the paper plate. Didja cheat on Mark a lot, would you say?”
The lawyer caught herself and closed her eyes, “We're okay. Honey, hold on…” Into the other phone, she spoke, “Steve, hold on…” and then pressed the CALL WAITING button on her cell phone to see who it was.
“Hello? Dad, yes I beeped you. Hwasa is coming to Mother's hearing. We're okay.”
She heard Hwasa say something and switched back, “Honeybear what? Dogbird's lesbian sister? I'll tell him.” Maman switched over and then her dad cut her off before she got a chance to say anything. “You heard?” switch. “They heard. We're okay.”
“And to you, Dad.” Then she hung up the call with her father and was only down to two calls to focus on. “Yes,” She set her jaw at her girlfriend’s sentence. “Jill is there?”
She spoke on the office phone, “Steve, gotta--” but quickly went back to her cell, “Jill with the short black hair? The Calvin Klein model? Steve, gotta go!” Maman hung up the right phone surprisingly and spoke to Hwasa. “The model who lives in Penthouse A???”
“We're...we're okay. I'm on my way.”
Quickly, Maman grabbed her bag and walked out of her office to make sure nothing happened between her girlfriend and the Calvin Klein model Jill.
______
Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are singing...On TV. At SAKS.
“Honest living, honest living…” The squeegeman called out repeatedly trying to get some one to pay him for his work.
The homeless begged all around, “Can't you spare a dime or two? Here but for the grace of God go you. You'll be merry. I'll be merry, though merry ain't in my vocabulary.” They sighed at old memories of being warm and happy if they had them, and if not, they dreamed of the day that they would have a place of their own and food on the table. But for now: No sleigh bells. No Santa Claus. No yule log. No tinsel. No holly. No hearth. No--
“Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” Some rude teens messed with a display that was a well known spot for homeless to sleep, not thinking of the consequences or just not caring.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. There was no room at the Holiday Inn. And it's beginning to snow. However, when things got bad, there was always something to do. So they opened up shop before things got too bad since they might have been able to make some money and find a place to stay. A small hope, but better than nothing.
“Hats!”
“Bats”
“Shoes”
“Booze”
“Mountain bikes”
“Potpourri”
“Leather bags”
“Girlie mags”
“Forty fives” and most importantly
“AZT!”
They called out to anyone that would listen, often overlapping with one another.
One vendor called out, “No one's buying? Feel like crying.”
Still there was no room at the Holiday Inn. Oh no. And it's beginning to snow.
A large woman talked up her things to Namjoon and Key who were passing by, “How about a fur in perfect shape? Owned by an MBA from uptown. I got a tweed broken in by a greedy broker who went broke and then broke down.”
Namjoon, having gotten his coat stolen yesterday told her, “You don't have to do this…”
“Hush your mouth, it's Christmas.” was his reply.
“I do not deserve you, Key.” The beanie wearing man stared with love in his eyes while his boyfriend searched through the coat rack. “Give, Give all you do is give.”
She squatted down, “Wait, what's on the floor? Let's see some more. No, no, no, no.” He basically hissed at the hideous collection.”
“Give me some way to show how you've touched me so.”
Key didn’t want much, “Kiss me, it's beginning to snow.” He grabbed Namjoon’s vest with both hands and pulled him closer.
Now with the boys Hui and Hyojong, the latter had explained what had happened today with Hyuna. Hui was more surprised not to see him inside the house.
“...She said, "Would you light my candle' and she put on a pout and she wanted you to take her out tonight?”
“Right.” Hyojong confirmed.
“She got you out!”
He shook his head, “She was more than okay, but I pushed her away. It was bad, I got mad and I had to get her out of my sight.”
Hui squinted at his blonde friend, “Wait, wait, wait, you said she was sweet!”
Hyojong just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his big screw up, “Let's go eat. I’ll just get fat. It's the one vice left when you're dead meat.” Then yellow boots caught his eye. “There! That's her!”
“Hwasa?” The only important her in Hui’s life was not the one passing by.
He turned his friend around and pointed, “Hyuna!”
“Woah!”
“I should go--” Hyojong started.
Then both men looked up, “Hey, it's beginning to snow.”
As cops circulated, music from nearby played. “I'm dreaming of a white white Christmas.”
However, even in this snow junkies and addicts of all sorts were trying to get their fix by visiting their local drug dealer who was avoiding the cops that had just left the specific area. They only had one goal and that was to follow the man, follow the man with his pockets full of the jam. Follow the man, follow the man.
“Help me out, Daddy, if you can.” They begged and then asked, “Got any D, man?”
To which the shady figure replied, “I'm cool.” leading them to where he kept his stash.
“Got any C, man?” Another asked.
“I'm cool.”
“Got any X? Any smack? Any horse? Any joogie boogie boy? Any blow?” All street names for drugs were spoken and then handed out.
The police seemed to be too close for comfort, so Hyuna waited for them to move along giving Hyojong time to catch up with her.
“Hey…” He said.
“Hey.” She replied nonchalantly.
Hyojong looked at her eyes, “I just want to say I'm sorry for the way --”
“Forget it.” Hyuna spoke dismissively.
“I blew up.” He stepped forward. “Can I make it up to you?”
She raised her eyebrow, “How?”
“Dinner party?” Hyojong offered.
“That'll do.” She smiled at him.
The dealer came back because he was sure he had missed someone from his original client list today. He wasn’t happy when he saw her chatting with an old customer who suddenly stopped visiting him one day. Had he gone and made his own business?
“Hey lover boy, cutie pie. You steal my client, you die!”
E’Dawn was gonna fight, “You didn't miss me, you won't miss her! You'll never lack for customers!”
He remembered his past self willing to kill for a fix, “I'm willin', I'm illin'. I gotta get my sickness off.” and how skittish he was around enforcers. “Gotta run, gotta ride. Gotta gun, gotta hide, gotta go.”
Holding up two bags of white powder the dealer chuckled, “And it's beginning to snow.”
Choogmin was not happy when he saw a crowd starting to arrive for Hwasa’s show. He even called his wife to tell her, “We're outta luck, Alison, the protest is on!” As the addicts came back when they saw the cops were gone or at least not close enough to see their business being done. The coat vendor was still trying to make a sale with Namjoon and Key.
“L. L. Bean, Geoffrey Beene. Burburry zip-out lining.” She picked one very familiar to Namjoon. “Here's a new arrival.”
The man gasped when he noticed the missing sleeve, “That's my coat!”
To which the vendor replied, “We give discounts~”
He wasn’t about to let her get off, “It's a sham!”
Key didn’t want them to fight, so he said, “Let's get a better one!”
“But she's a thief!”
“But she brought us together~”
Namjoon couldn’t argue with that and pointed to one coat that had caught his eye, “I'll take the leather.
“Honest living!” in the background.
Hyojong introduced his two friends, “Hui, this is Hyuna-noona.”
They bowed to each other and greeted each other politely. Hui hesitated for a bit because he was sure he had seen her somewhere before.
“She'll be dining with us.” the blonde spoke awkwardly.
“I think we've met.” Hui said.
Nearby the dealer was dealing with an unhappy customer, “That is an ounce!”
Hyuna smirked, “That's what he said!”
Then he changed his story, “I said it's a gram!”
Watching more people file in, Choongmin asked his wife, “Which investor's coming? Your father? Damn!” It wasn’t going to be a good impression.
But Hyuna and Hui seemed to be getting along quite nicely as she asked why he had such a large camera and why he never stopped recording. He said he was recording life, and it made Hyojong happy to see people he loved connecting. Still he sort of just hung in the background while they continued talking.
Then he finally spoke up, “Let's go to the lot. Hwasa's performing.”
Hyana turned around from making a silly face in the camera, “Who's Hwasa?”
“His ex.” He motioned to Hui.
Both turned to look at him, and he said, “But I am over her.”
Hui began walking ahead of the maybe couple. Hyuna reached out to hold his hand, but he pulled away.
“Let's not hold hands yet.”
“Is that a warning?” She pouted.
“I just need to take it slow.”
Key helped his love put on his new leather coat after the vendor drove a hard bargain. He looked amazing in it! Namjoon felt good in it too, so he began acting as if he were a millionaire showing off his new threads. Key joined in on the little play and sassily walked into her lover’s arms.
Hyojong thought to himself as he looked at Hyuna, I should tell you, I should tell you. I should tell you, I should tell you.
She also thought, I should tell you.
They opened their mouths at the same time, “I…”
Hui didn’t notice and so he pointed to the sky, “And it's beginning to…”
Namjoon and Key noticed as well, “And it's beginning to…”
“And it's beginning to--” Every person who could see crystals falling from the sky said.
Hwasa showed up on her motorcycle, making a path clear for her and handed her helmet to her girlfriend, “Maman, which way to the stage?”
Snow! It was finally snowing! But that didn’t stop the show from going on. Soon things settled and the performer with short black hair was handed her cowbell. After a quick kiss from Maman, she went on stage. The other stood to the side to make sure she was close in case anything went wrong.
___________
Then the spotlight came on with the clank of a cowbell. Hwasa began her performance.
“Last night, I had a dream.” She looked at all the eyes. “I found myself in a desert called: Cyberland. It was hot,” Hwasa fanned herself  and pantomimed a leak. “My canteen had sprung a leak and I was thirsty.”
A few giggles spread through the audience.
She pointed into the distance, “Out of the abyss walked a cow, Elsie. I asked if she had anything to drink.” The woman struck a strange pose. “She said, ‘I'm forbidden, to produce...milk. In Cyberland we only drink DIET COKE.”
With the fixed reverb, “Diet Coke” echoed and echoed. She sang everything that Elsie said to make sure the crowd knew it was the cow and not her speaking. Why? Because ART because PERFORMANCE! That’s fucking why.
“Yes!” Hwasa said to herself, clenching in her fist for it was working. Then she continued by pressing a button that played violin on cue, “She said, ‘Only thing to do is jump over the moon!’” The music stopped. “‘They closed everything real down like barns and troughs and performance spaces” She stared daggers at Choongmin who was front row. “And replaced it all with lies and rules and virtual LIFE!’” She did the robot.
“Life, life, -ife”
“‘But there is a way out’” Another button showed a child’s drawing of a cow and audio played which repeated. “leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith.” in a sing song voice which Hwasa vocalized with.
“Oooooooo. ‘Only thing to do is ~jump over the moon~!’ I've gotta get out of here!” She screamed and started to pantomime her words once more. “It's like I'm being tied to the hood of a yellow rental truck being packed in with fertilizer, and fuel oil pushed over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse.” She made a gun with her hand and ‘shot’ herself after putting on one of those cheesey Mickey Mouse ear head bands.
She then head thrashed with every syllable, “I've gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Gotta Go--” She coughed and then gathered more breath. “Gotta Gotta find a way, to ~jump over the moon~! Only thing to do is jump over the moon~”
The headband was now on the floor, “Then, a little bull dog entered. His name, we have learned, was Choongmin.” She glanced her shirt real quick to make sure she had the prop and pointed at the man himself who received boos. “And although he once had principles, he abandoned them to live as a lapdog to a wealthy daughter of the revolution.”
Hwasa made her eyes wide and stuck her tongue out like a panting pup. She pressed a third button that turned on a jazzy instrumental and snapped along with it, giving herself time to put on glasses just like the ones her persecutor wore.
“‘Uh one two three that's bull!’ he said ‘Ever since that cat took up the fiddle that cow's been...jumpy. The dish and the spoon were evicted from the table and eloped. She's had trouble with the milk and that moon ever since.” She motioned to her breasts for milk and her ass for moon while concluding the bulldog’s intro with. “‘Maybe it's a... “““female thing”””?”
The short haired Hwasa continued to play as the greedy Choongmin, “‘Cause who'd want to leave Cyberland anyway? Walls ain't so bad~’” She mimed those walls surrounding her on all sides. “The dish and the spoon for instance, they're down on their luck they come knocking on my doghouse door and I say.” She cocked an invisible rifle. “‘NOT IN MY BACKYARD, UTENSILS, GO BACK TO CHINA!’”
“Biddi Bonggg.” said one of the cows behind her.
Fast as lightning, the glasses were hung back on her shirt and she went back into her Cow Pose to continue talking as Elsie. “‘The only way out is up!’ Elsie whispered to me, ‘A leap of faith’!” Hwasa sung in her highest register. “‘Sill thirsty?’” Hwasa smacked her lips and acted as if she hadn’t drank anything in days. “Parched”
“-ched, -ched, -ched”
“‘Have some milk.’ And I lowered myself beneath her and held my mouth to her swollen udder and I sucked the sweetest milk I have ever tasted.” She slurped as loud as she possibly could without actually slurping anything. ‘Climb onboard!’ she said. And as a harvest moon rose over Cyberland, we reared back. We sprang into a gallop leaping, out of orbit. I awoke. Singing…”
She had gotten so caught up in her show that she forgot to press the button. So she allowed herself to break character for a moment and rolled her eyes in frustration. Hwasa pushed the button and did her little dance while the audio chanted, “Leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith, leap of faith.”
“Ooooo. Only thing to do, only thing to is jump. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Only thing to do is jump over the moon. Over the moon. Over the mooooooo.” Emotion just overcame her and the sound just came out. “Mooooooooooo.” She embraced the cow and yelled into the microphone. “MOOOOOOOOO!”
Her eyes scanned the amused crowd and beckoned, “Moo with me.”
“Moooo…” someone from the back called, barely heard.
Hwasa nodded in response, “Come on, sir, mooooo!”
She refused to stop mooing until all of the audience was mooing with her, save the surrounding cops and Park Choongmin himself.
“Mooooo! Mooooooo! Moooooooo! Moooo.”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Hwasa said angrily. Then collected herself slightly, “Thank you.” She bowed.
Everyone applauded, and then she got off stage to meet her girlfriend and friends. They quickly got out of there through a back entrance before the businessman could talk to them. It seemed he wasn’t there, though. Where had he gone?
Well, he was sitting in the Life Cafe with his father-in-law who was also the most important investor of the property where the protest was held. Right now, he was just trying to save his own ass and explaining where he planned to go from here in order for them to get the lot secured with no problems.
Then a horde of like 20 people all dressed as young adults usually did, wildly fashionable but also slightly questionable in taste.
The waiter saw them coming and tried to stop them, “No, please no. Not tonight, please no. Mister, can't. You? Go. Not tonight, can't have a scene.” His voice was deep and Australian.
“What??” Hyojong asked.
“Go, please go. You,”
The blonde pulled Hyuna by the hand past the lone waiter.
“Hello, sir! I said no. Important customer.” He pointed out Park Choongmin and other.
“What am I, just a blur?” Hui asked.
The waiter said, “You sit all night, you never buy!”
“That's a lie, that's a lie! I had a tea the other day.”
He folded his arms, “You couldn't pay.”
“Oh yeah…”
Key stuck a $100 bill in the waiter’s hand to get him to shut up and show that they could pay for whatever was ordered tonight.
Namjoon stared down and playfully leaned on the business man’s head, “THE Park Choongmin? Here?”
“Oh no.” The young waiter groaned.
“Wine and beer!” The hungry young adults demanded as they sat and rearrainged tables.
Hwasa called him, “The enemy of Avenue A.” and looked at the waiter. “We'll stay.”
“Oy vey!”
Namjoon asked, “What brings the mogul in his own mind to the Life Cafe?”
Choongmin asked for a second from the man in a three piece suit worth more than the cafe itself and then held up his cup to the short haired woman, “ would like to propose a toast to Hwasa’s noble try. It went well.”
In the same false cheer, Hwasa said, “Go to Hell.”
The others laughed.
Still, the man wasn’t giving up, “Was the yuppie scum stomped? Not counting the homeless, how many tickets weren't comped?”
She just flipped him off.
Hyojong decided to ask, “Why did Muffy--”
“Alison.” He corrected.
“--miss the show?”
He put his hands in his pockets, “There was a death in the family if you must know.”
Key put his hand to his heart, “Who died?”
“Our Akita.” Choongmin said.
Hui, Hyojong, Namjoon, and Key look at each other, “Evita!”
Someone barked.
Then Choongmin went up to the red head, “Hyuna, I'm surprised a bright and charming girl like you hangs out with these slackers who don't adhere to deals.”
As if they ever actually settled that half ass deal.
“They make fun, yet I'm the one attempting to do some good or do you really want a neighborhood where people piss on your stoop every night? Bohemia, Bohemia's a fallacy in your head. This is Calcutta. Bohemia is dead.”
So Hui stood, “Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes~”
Hui and Namjoon held hands and lowered their heads, “Dies irae, dies illa. Kyrie eleison. Yitgadal veyitkadash.”
Everyone began to fake cry and wail and mourn the so called death of Bohemia.
“Here she lies!” Hui continued. “No one knew her worth. The late great daughter of Mother Earth. On this night when we celebrate the birth--in that little town of Bethlehem. We raise our glass, you bet your ass, to…”
Hwasa pulled down her jeans and mooned the yuppie scum she had the displeasure of knowing personally.
From the top of his lungs, Hui sings, “La vie Bohème!” Just for the sake of causing a ruckas.
The others started to slowly chant, “La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème...La vie Bohème.”
It even had a funky beat that caused the ringleader to continue this teasing, “To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing, the need to express to communicate. To going against the grain. Going insane...Going mad. To loving tension, no pension. To more than one dimension, to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension. Not to mention, of course” He did the filmer fingers to frame who he know was Choong-ie’s father-in-law. “Hating dear old Mom and Dad.”
“To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits, to fruits” the gay members of the group posed accordingly. “To no absolutes, to Absolut, to choice, to The Village Voice, to any passing fad.”
And more importantly, “To being an us, for once instead of a them!”
“La vie Bohème.” the others cheered. “La vie Bohème!”
When Hwasa saw that Maman had come in, she asked, “Is the equipment in a pyramid?”
“It is, jagi.”
“The mixer doesn't have a case.”
Maman gave a shocked face and then started to walk out to fix things.
“Don't give me that face.” Hwasa said before grabbing her arm to pull her around to play with her hair. Just gals being pals.
Mr. Grey cleared his throat, “Ahem.”
“Hey, Mister. She's my sister.” Maman grabbed her ass and then left to go deal with the mixer.
The waiter had been doing his job and started to confirm orders, “So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad, three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter, and one pasta with meatless balls.”
One of the boys looked around, “Ew.”
Namjoon stood up for himself, “It tastes the same.”
Hyuna giggled, “If you close your eyes.”
“And thirteen orders of fries. Is that it here?” The deep voiced Australian asked.
A chorus of, “Wine and beer!” came back at him.
Hyuna and Key made eye contact and jumped on the table to play patty cake, “To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese.” the two faked sharing a plastic phallus for this next part. “To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo. To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou.”
Namjoon and Hwasa joined in, “Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. Creation, vacation.”
Hui held a very shaken can of sprite near his crotch and pointed it towards Mr. Grey, “Mucho masturbation.” the white foam sprayed all over him.
The performer and computer genius continued, “Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new.”
“To Sontag.” Namjoon said.
And Key picked up, “To Sondheim.”
Four of their friends body rolled in unison after climbing on top of their table, “To anything taboo.” but also in various positions.
Hyojong and Joon faced each other, “Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham, and Cage.”
“Lenny Bruce!” Namjoon referenced E’Dawn’s form.
Hyojong did the same, “Langston Hughes!”
The ever dramatic Hwasa reached to the lights and exclaimed, “To the stage!”
“To Uta” A silver haired girl in combat boots said.
“To Buddha.” Namjoon added.
J-Hope included, “Pablo Neruda, too.”
Walking down the table was Hyuna pretending to have Hui on a leash as he walked on all fours as they sang, “Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow to blow off Auntie Em!”
Several people joined in to give the businessmen the middle finger but in more...polite ways before yelling, “La vie Bohème!”
Maman was back, so Hwasa went to meet her, “And wipe the speakers off before you pack.”
“Yes, jagi.”
“Well, hurry back.” The short haired performer kissed her lawyer girlfriend.
Mr. Grey raised his eyebrow, “Sister?”
In unison, they played dumb, “We're close.”
And they parted ways to show Namjoon being tackled and kissed by Key while everyone joked, “Brothers!”
Then everyone began partying a bit harder, “Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens, Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee-wee Herman. German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein, Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa. Carmina Burana. To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy.”
They jumped on and off of furniture, “Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC! To no shame, never playing the Fame Game.”
Namjoon held a fake blunt, “To marijuana!”
Again things went sexual with people on top of other people and maybe another person just for the hell of it, “To sodomy. It's between God and me! To S & M!”
Hyuna in particular slid close to Mr. Grey and started to pull his tie sexily. He backed up in fear since he was a married man who actually loved his wife.
“Waiter... Waiter... Waiter!”
The waiter then arrived and separated the two, giving Hyuna a look and trying not to smirk so that he could keep his job.
“La vie Bohème!”
Namjoon grabbed a salt shaker and began to use it as a microphone, “In honor of the death of bohemia, an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner. Kim Hyuna,” The woman herself began to do the dance she usually did on stage. “Clad only in bubble wrap will perform her famous lawn chair-handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred.”
She laughed and covered her red lips as she was helped down by E’Dawn who announced, “And Lee Hwitaek will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on high holy days.”
Hui bent the now empty mayo bottle to make it look like he couldn’t get it up and then set it on the table, “And Hwasa, back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, will sing traditional Korean monk chants backwards through her vocoder, while accompanying herself on the electric cello, which she has never studied.”
Hyuna was taken aside by Choongmin who spoke to her in private, “Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us.”
She looked away from him, “There's nothing to know.”
“Don't you think that we should discuss --”
“It was three months ago.”
“He doesn't act like he's with you.” “We're taking it slow.” She shot back. Unlike their former relationship.
He scoffed, “Where is he now?”
“He's right-- She whipped around and pointed to where he just was a few seconds ago. “Um..”
“Uh huh…” Choongmin said.
Where'd he go?
Hui was the next to proclaim, “And E’Dawn will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song.”
Hyojong had realized the electric guitar on stage was abandoned and had to go to it. He played a simple line. The one he always played.
His friend rolled his eyes, “That doesn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz”
Namjoon grabbed the saltshaker back, “And THE Kim Kibum will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub.”
Key beamed at his love, “And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T. virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcasts the words:”
Everyone screamed at the top of their lungs, “Actual Reality - ACT UP - Fight AIDS!”
Choongmin called for the check so he could get the hell out of there before things got any worse. Hyuna had had it with Hyojong who was nursing a beer. She shoved his shoulder.
“Excuse me, did I do something wrong? I get invited, then ignored all night long!”
“I've been trying, I'm not lying.” He replied. “No one's perfect, I've got baggage.”
“Life's too short, babe, time is flying! I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine.”
His heart leaked out for a moment, “I should tell you--”
She talked over him, “I've got baggage too.”
“I should tell you--”
The others called for another round of drinks. Then Hyuna’s timer went off.
She sighed, “AZT break.” She took out her bedazzled pill pack.
Hyojong recognized the shape, “You?” He took out his own square package with leaves doodled all over it.
“Me.” She saw it and softened her tone. “You?”
“Noona?”
The blonde looked behind him, and he took her to a place out the back that would allow them to talk without all the music and noise happening inside. He had forgotten jackets but even just being near her was enough warmth to last for now. Also, if he didn’t say something now, he would never say it.
He looked down at this hands, “I should tell you, I'm disaster. I forget how to begin it.”
Hyuna didn’t want any sadness, “Let's just make this part go faster. I have yet to be in it. I should tell you…”
I should tell you. I should tell you. There was so much to tell. I should tell you She went first, “I should tell I blew the candle out just to get back in.”
“I'd forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin.” He showed her the small burn scar that was still there from the wax.
I should tell you. I should tell you. I should tell you. I should tell… He looked into her eyes. It was still unsaid how they felt each other, but the look was enough.
“Well, here we go. Now we…” Hyojong reached out to her.
She pulled away, suddenly aware of what this meant, “Oh no.”
He tried again and held out his hand, “I know this something is...here goes.”
“Here goes.” Hyuna put her hand into his.
“Guess so, it's starting to...who knows?”
She nodded, her red hair bobbing with her head, “Who knows?” So many questions passed through their minds. Who knows where this relationship would go? Who goes there, as deep as they were going so soon? Who knows how long it would last? Here goes… For once in their lives they were trusting desire, starting to learn. Walking through fire without a burn. They held each other’s forearms not sure how close to get yet. Clinging a shoulder a leap begins. Stinging and older, asleep on pins.
So here we go. Now we…
Hyojong pulled back this time, suddenly scared again, absolutely terrified of the ending coming faster than he could handle.
“Oh no.”
She touched his hand, “I know.”
This simple understanding made him grab her hand even more tightly than before, “Oh no.”
Who knows where? Who goes there? Here goes.
They kissed not knowing what this would mean in the long run and not knowing how long that run would be.
Hwasa was caught kissing another girl with short red hair and then smiled when she saw her girlfriend entering, quickly going to her as if nothing happened. Maman had seen it though.
“Are we packed?” the black haired girl asked.
“Yes, and by next week I want you to be.” She walked past her now ex.
Confused and crushed, Hwasa asked, “Aein?”
“And you should see, they've padlocked your building and they're rioting on Avenue B.” the Doc Martin wearing woman said. “Choongie called the cops.”
“That fuck!” Hwasa said.
This got her a glare from her ex, “They don't know what they're doing. The cops are sweeping the lot, but no one's leaving. They're just sitting there mooing!”
Now they had even more reason to celebrate, “To Dance!” Someone said, pointing to Hyuna letting her get on the table once more.
“No way to make a living, masochism, pain, perfection, muscle spasms, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders!”
Everyone pointed to Hui, “Film!”
He stood up and said, “Adventure, tedium, no family, boring locations, dark rooms, perfect faces, egos, money, Hollywood and sleaze!”
“Music!”
Key stood and Vogued on the tables, “Food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation, rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, and heavy competition!”
“Anarchy!”
This time both Namjoon and Hwasa got up on the table and yelled at the top of their lungs, “Revolution, justice, screaming for solutions. Forcing changes, risk, and danger. Making noise and making pleas!”
They made more lists of what bohemia stood for. Each one of them was Bohemia. To people living with, living with, living with not dying from disease!
With linked wild hearts they cheered, “Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn! La vie Bohème! La vie Bohème! La vie Bohème!”
Hui came out of the fray and spoke with pride, “Anyone out of the mainstream? Is anyone in the mainstream? Anyone alive with a sex drive!”
“Or lack of!” A cute short person with an ace spectrum flag pin spoke up, getting a smile from the others.
“Tear down the wall, aren't we all? The opposite of war isn't peace...it’s creation!”
“Woooooooo! La vie Bohème…” The customers had turn the place into a beautifully crazy ruckas.
Hui goes to the top floor and records from the window as he narrates, “The riot continues as the Christmas tree goes up in flames.”
Fire engulfed twinkling lights and plastic bristles. The snow dances. Oblivious, Hyuna and Hyojong share a small tender kiss as they escaped out the back to go home or somewhere for the two of them to just talk. It wasn’t that small, but it was tender. Passionate. Hui worked on collecting footage and thought of selling it.
Inside were yells of, “Viva la vie Bohème!”
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thelionshoarde · 6 years ago
Text
sneak peek; just words - side story
honestly this stupid thing is gonna wind up stupid long this is the break up fic, okay, and it starts off right before the end of ch2 and then carries us into ch3 tho it’s not necessary to read but ANYWAY here are a couple of richard/shiro heavy scenes to apologize for the really stupid long wait??
Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Nothing was, not when it was important and worthwhile, and maybe that was another point against the concept of soulmates. There had to be a reason why the whole world made such a big deal out of it -- couldn’t leave well enough alone; had to make it complicated, and messy -- because that was the real world, real love.
With spring coming in fast basketball practice become longer and even more grueling, and what time Shiro had left was taken up by his advanced classes -- papers and problem sets and readings and oral examinations and extra time in the flight simulators whenever he could squeeze it in -- and the end result was that nothing changed. Richard and Shiro met up here and there throughout the week; an afternoon on Saturdays, sometimes, or a quick hello in the library, strained smiles and stilted conversation and a hesitant holding of hands before it was back to the grind, back to life and its impossible, sweeping current, carrying them along.
But when February hit without pause and all Shiro got for Valentine’s Day was a headache and a B- on his pop quiz in Physics 202, Shiro decided he had to figure out a way to stand firm.
Fight for it, Isaac had said.
Shiro had thought that he was -- that all this time he had fought for it; refusing to give up, to listen to the dark and frightened thoughts that told him he wasn’t good enough to have this; stubbornly holding on to Richard and hope and a possible future that wasn’t preordained. But he hadn’t been. It wasn’t enough just to choose. He had to put in more effort than that.
He had to push. He had to try, even if the possibility of failure was terrifying.
*
| this isn’t doll anymore, Richard | he sent, and then cursed violently and hunched around his phone and added, | cool* i hate autocorrect so much omg |
| you are actually adorable | he got back a moment later, his phone pinging with Richard’s special text alert.
| i’m serious! i didn’t even get to see you on valentine’s day |
He didn’t get a reply to that for four minutes, and after staring between the waiting screen and the slowly changing clock at the top of it, Shiro bit back an unhappy growl. | i’m getting lunch | he finally sent, heart pounding. | and if you don’t want to SERIOUSLY piss me off then you’d better come join me | Then he fumbled the phone, hands shaking; shoved it into his pocket and hurried across the courtyard, heading for the commissary.
He listened for the text alert, but it didn’t come. He went blindly to the shortest lunch line, waiting, but told himself he couldn’t hear the alert over the chatter of the other cadets in the dining hall. He bought his food without registering what he selected, and sat at a table off by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the courtyard and ate without tasting anything, his phone quiet in his pocket. Shiro was afraid to look.
When he only had an apple left, Shiro forced himself to pull his phone out, thumb it on, and see --
| study group until 1300 hours, starkid. what are you wearing? |
Shiro choked on his bite of apple.
| excuse you |
| babe | sent Richard | i hate study groups you gotta give me something or i’m just gonna expire of boredom and misery | and then, quickly, | i wish i was with you. i’m sorry about vday you know why i couldn’t make it |
| because iverson’s an ass | Shiro agreed, and then he realized that he was relaxed -- the painful tension in his shoulders releasing, his spine curving, his elbows on the table while he bit into his apple and half-smiled at his phone. This felt nice. Even with everything going on they’d at least always been able to do this -- banter back and forth via text like nothing was wrong, for as long as they had the time to spare before their attention was inevitably pulled away.
| soooo what are you wearing |
Shiro grinned, and ducked his head to hide it from any passerby. |  what do you want me to be wearing? |
Then he finished his apple slowly. But there was no response by the time he finished, and he sighed before tucking his phone back into his pocket, gathering up his book bag. Slinging it across his shoulder, Shiro tossed his trash and put away the tray, trying not to be disappointed at the long silence he was receiving but unable to stop himself from moving slowly, taking his time, lingering, like that might make some kind of difference.
Study group, Shiro reminded himself. People surrounding his boyfriend, demanding his attention. Work to be done, lessons to be memorized. There was a time and a place for everything, and sometimes even sexting had to be put on hold, surely, even when it had been nearly two weeks since the last time Shiro had gotten more than a half-distracted make out session and --
A breeze brushed against him; it wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm, and Shiro shivered to feel it. The trees groaned, mostly bare this early in the year, and Shiro looked up at them and the way they cut across the pale blue sky beyond, making constantly shifting shapes, never quite willing to settle.
(-- fight for it --)
Shiro pulled out his phone, checked the time, and sent | my room at 1330 or there will be dire consequences Montgomery |
Forty minutes later his phone finally dinged with the alert that made his heart skip a beat, every time.
| sir, yes, sir! |
*
“Hello, Commander,” Richard grinned, leaning against the wall outside of Shiro’s door. He looked tired; shadows beneath his eyes, skin thin and paler than usual; even his hair seemed limp. But still, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively even as Shiro rolled his eyes and stepped aside, letting him in. “Reporting as ordered. What do you -- whoa!”
Shiro had him up against the door, nearly nose to nose.
He knew what he wanted to say -- what he had to say, maybe. He had practiced in front of the mirror on the back of the door, the very same one that Richard was leaning back against that very moment, shifting so that the frame didn’t dig quite so annoyingly into his shoulder. We need to talk, Shiro would say, because I deserve better than this and I refuse to let you give up on us.
“Don’t leave me,” he blurted out, uselessly.
Richard blinked, eyes wide. And then his whole face softened. Shiro had jerked back a few inches in embarrassment at his outburst, face flaming, so he could see the transformation. It looked kind of painful, or maybe that was just the way Shiro’s heart felt, twisting at the sight of such open tenderness.
“Hey,” Richard murmured, and his fingers slipped over Shiro’s hips. “I -- Shiro, you don’t -- you don’t have to worry about that, you know? I love you.”
Shiro breathed unsteadily, watching him.
“Don’t -- God, Shirogane, your eyes should be illegal. Do you have any idea how weak I am to you? C’mere.”
Hands drew him closer, tugging. Shiro let them, not understanding why he was hesitating except for maybe because of how much he wanted this. Was desperate to fix it, to make it work and succeed, to have what he wanted and be certain of it. Richard tipped his forehead against his; they were of a height, now, and Shiro just breathed for a moment, feeling Richard breathe with him.
“I do love you,” Richard whispered, eyes closing. “I think that -- I think I get scared of that, sometimes. How much I love you and how much it’s going to hurt when you leave me.”
“What --”
Richard shook his head; a minute shake that Shiro felt as a pressure against his forehead. His own hands were tight on Richard’s shoulders, now, and Richard was distracted and tense enough that he was holding Shiro’s hips hard enough to bruise; painful, but grounding. A mark on Shiro’s skin that he would actually welcome, for once.
“I’m allowed my fears,” Richard said. “Don’t -- Don’t worry about it, all right? C’mon, just let me love you, okay?”
“You haven’t been doing a very good job of it, lately.”
“True.”
That was all he said -- no actual apology -- but the thing was that Richard sounded like he regretted it, and -- that’s enough, thought Shiro, heart fluttering. You’re forgiven, you were always forgiven, it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine. A tentative happiness -- an even more tentative feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction -- began to wind through him, dizzying.
“I love you, too. But Valentine’s Day still sucked, even if it wasn’t your fault.” This whole semester has sucked, he thought, privately, and even if Valentine’s Day hadn’t actually been Richard’s fault, a lot of the rest of it had been -- but he was happy to let it go. To release that frustration and move on, past it; to cling tight to this moment, instead. Shiro dared to ask, voice a low tease, “Are you going to make it up to me?”
Richard grinned, and now his fingers were rubbing little circles against Shiro’s hips, edging down toward his butt, the touch light and teasing. “Thoroughly,” he promised. “And repeatedly. You gonna let me eat you out?”
“Hng.”
Shiro blinked rapidly and wanted -- desperately -- to say something more coherent, like Oh, well, if you insist, or even, fuck yes!, but was entirely too turned on to manage. By the time the blood stopped rushing quite so loudly in his ears and he might have been able to articulate his enthusiastic consent, Richard already had the door locked behind him and was tumbling Shiro onto the bed with bright, warm laughter.
*
Spring break that year was in March, which Shiro knew, but hadn’t actually managed to factor into the scheme of things. “Sorry, babe,” Richard said, mouth pressed right up against Shiro’s hairline so that the words came out soft and moist. “We’ll miss you at the lake house.”
“Okay,” said Shiro, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling even though he felt loose-limbed and incredible. “Now you’re just being mean. Watch it, or I’m going to have to come up with a proper punishment.” He wondered if this was what make-up sex felt like -- intense and barely controlled; the deep relief of not only getting off, but feeling closer and more intimate with his significant other than he had in months.
It was a good feeling. He was maybe reveling in it.
That it wasn’t, exactly, make-up sex had more to do with neither Shiro nor Richard actually acknowledging a specific fight.
Fight wasn’t even the right word for what it had been -- months of increased tension, snappishness, frustration building and building without anywhere to go. But Shiro was still pretty happy about the resolution, regardless. Somehow, he had managed not to fuck this up just yet. He thought maybe there was nowhere else to go, now, than back to what they had been -- happy together.
“Oh, no,” Richard grinned, stretching showily against Shiro’s side. “That sounds terrifying. Consider me appropriately threatened. I shall now be on my absolute best behavior, scout’s honor.”
“What do scouts have to do with anything?”
Richard snorted and then flopped onto his back, one leg falling off the side of the bed. Immediately, Shiro felt the loss of his warmth and tried not to tense. Their clothes were only half-removed, rumpled wildly and sticking in places. Regretfully, Shiro began to put himself in order. Pants pulled back up, zipped and buttoned, shirt tugged down to hide his skin. Conditioned reflex, and no matter how he hated it he did it anyway; breathed relief when Richard, as always, let him have his boundaries without pressing, or prying.
He thought briefly of Josie, and felt both sorry and overjoyed that he had a partner who did not push, who respected him and his limits.
“I would have liked to see you in a swimsuit,” Richard said instead of answering, a little wistful.
Well, mostly he didn’t push.
Richard scratched at the dark blonde hair that grew in an unfortunately tempting line down from his navel, leaving that sentence up in the air for Shiro to do with what he liked. Shiro stared helplessly at the flat planes of Richard’s stomach, at his hips and his big, bony hand now languidly drawing meaningless patterns on his honey-pale skin, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth and trying to remind himself that they had literally just achieved orgasm five minutes ago.
Shiro said, “You could send me pictures of your swimsuit,” because he didn’t want to sour the afterglow with guilt about his lack of nudity. Thankfully, Richard only hummed thoughtfully, and then grabbed the waistband of his opened trousers with both hands and slipped them down his hips, toward his knees.
“I think I might,” Richard grinned, kicking his pants off and then twisting up, straddling Shiro. “Now grab the lube. We have two more hours before Sasha gets back and I really want your fingers in my ass, Shirogane.”
“Mission accepted,” Shiro gasped against Richard’s mouth, heat blooming anew within him.
Apparently, unofficial make-up sex for the kind of not-fight the two of them had been having for the last half a year required multiple rounds. Shiro was absolutely not complaining.
*
Rather than March 1st they celebrated his birthday on February 28th. It was more or less everything Shiro wanted -- not perfect, but perfect enough. Richard had gone to him late, near lights out, and kissed him so sweet and slow that Shiro had felt overwhelmed just from that. From a warm mouth and slick tongue and Richard’s hands greedy at the base of his neck, curled around his jaw. “Happy birthday, starkid,” Richard murmured, sliding cheek to cheek for a moment, nuzzling at the base of his ear and the heat between them was slow and dangerous for being so tender.
“Thanks,” Shiro had gasped, ragged, falling. It was dizzying, and he’d said a little stupidly, “Guess I’m legal, now, huh? We can finally have sex.” but it wasn’t too stupid, apparently, or maybe Richard was just stupid for him, because his boyfriend had just laughed, helpless, and kissed him again.
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ohlookahiddenblade · 8 years ago
Text
Little Town [Part 1]
Words: 3292
Summary: Overall - Reader moves to London to escape her ties with her father and the Templar Order. In the process she makes friends with Jacob Frye and comes to the realization the world is a small place. Eventual Jacob x f!Reader. 
Warnings: None as of now.
Author’s Note: Oh dear, what is this? I don’t even really know to be honest. I’ve been poking it with a pointy stick all day, but I told myself it was going up. It’s a bit slow at first, but now that intros are done there should be some Frye fun. You’ll probably notice it has some inspiration from Beauty and the Beast, as I’ve been watching it all week. Whoops. Good news - I still have a job and got a promotion of sorts. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Now that I’m stretching my legs (and hopefully not butchering Mr. Frye) I’m hoping to get some requests out. Much love <3
The sun had barely risen above the horizon when you made your way to the station. Faint whispers hovered in clumps of mumbled conversations, none of which you paid any particular attention to. There was nothing worth your attention in this small little corner of the quaint little village you had called home for the last ten years of your life. A variety of people littered the station's boarding area – more than you thought there would be at this time of the morning. The children looked considerably duller than their parents, but you had to admit you would be too if the thrill of adventure hadn't been thrumming through your veins. Adrenaline crept up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as the large steam engine came pulling into the station.
A frown tugged at the corner of your lips as a group of women fell silent in the brief moment you walked past, their eyes bearing down on you. Soon all of that would be behind you. The gossiping whispers – the side-eyed looks - all of it would disappear the moment you stepped into London. London was too big of a city to draw much attention to yourself, much unlike here where everyone knew everyone else. Your father's wealthy and powerful reputation had not spared you the mumbled breathless comments of 'odd girl'.
Perhaps that was something to be proud of. You had branched away from family tradition, losing yourself for hours in books, sometimes while wandering the outer lying fields. Escape was always at your fingertips, even when your father was scolding you for straying from your preordained purpose. You were not meant to be a Templar as he so readily declared; you had decided that long ago. Though you agreed that the Order's purpose was certainly ambitious, it wasn't a place you could see yourself staying. There was so much to see and do in the world, and this little place was not going to further that.
Your younger brother had always been a better study anyways.
Hesitating, you looked over your shoulder, swearing you could almost see your father's angry and disappointed face staring back at you. But it wasn't. He wasn't standing in the crowd, his arms crossed sternly over a chest bearing the symbol of the Order. No, there were only ordinary people in an ordinary place.
The steam engine's whistle shrieked unhappily as the brakes squeaked the massive contraption to a stop. The cars were filed neatly behind it, painted a dark green color. It was a nice sophisticated contrast to the jet black engine sitting at the helm. People exited, oblivious to everything going on around them it seemed. Once they were clear, the small group of waiting passengers began to board. No one shoved or jostled another, instead patiently waiting their turn. Even the children remained compliant as their mothers ushered them forward.
Uncertainty had begun to settle like a rock in the pit of your stomach, lodging what felt like pebbles of doubt in your throat. No, now was not the time for soul searching, as if you could somehow convince yourself that this was where you were meant to stay. Steeling yourself, you straightened, adjusted a pack that was sitting slightly heavier on your shoulder, and strode through the mouth of the car. You were going to do this – you were going to go to a place where you could start over, where no one would know your name.
You were going to London.
Tugging the shawl tighter around your shoulders, you tilted your head to let the warmth of the spring sun run along your jaw and cheek. It was a relief from the still frigid air, a small glimpse of hope that summer was coming. Bringing your gaze back down to the cobblestone street, your eye trailed over the people slowly coming out of their homes. Women dressed in fabrics of muted blues, greens, and browns filed down the way, some accompanied by children, empty baskets resting in the crooks of their elbows.
London was slowly coming to life, and it was time for you to hurry to the orphanage. Clutching a weathered book to your chest, you looked both ways before stepping into the street, weaving through the variously decorated stalls. Vendors boasted their wares, some of which you were sure were exaggerated, their tables littered with colorful food and flowers. Turning, you begun to walk towards the bridge when a hand came out to stop you.
Whirling around, you frowned as a finely dressed young man held out a bright yellow daisy to you. He was a familiar face – one you had seen around town every once in a while. Though you had never spoken to him, he gave you the impression that he was mostly harmless. His bright hazel eyes were sparkling with a mischievous mirth, coupled with a charming smirk that made him rather cute. Add in the dash of slicked back brown hair beneath his cap and you would even dare to call him handsome.
You opened your mouth, about to decline the offer as you were sure he was going to try to sell it to you, when he spoke. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady. Enjoy your day, miss.”
His voice was smooth as silk, though friendly, and all the anxious tension in your back melted away. You reached out, taking the delicate flower from his fingers. “Thank you, sir,” you said, offering him a small smile before turning back to go on your way.
Yet, as you walked towards the Thames, you felt a chill run up your spine as if you were being watched. Your pace faltered as you glanced over your shoulder. No one immediately stood out as suspicious. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own business, bustling around as more bodies began to fill the streets. A part of you had expected to see the man with bright hazel eyes and charming smile. Instead, no one seemed to realize you even existed, which was a relief in itself.
Laughing softly under your breath at yourself, you shook your head and continued walking, crossing the broad river. You were being absolutely ridiculous; several months had already passed since your arrival in London. If nothing else, your father was a very resourceful man, and if he wanted to find you he would have already. It wasn't as if he didn't know where you had gone, either. At the end of your last dispute you had made it clear that you were leaving for the city – not to mention it was overrun with members of the Order. Perhaps not a good choice for a getaway.  
The excitement of your new found freedom still simmered in your blood, and you didn't want to lose that.
Drawing yourself up, you began to cross the wide river, the daisy pressed gently against the leather bound book. The carriages rumbled past, the horses' hooves clapping rhythmically against the stones. Your boots carried the same beat as you made it to the other side, hanging a right onto a small side street that would wind through the clustered homes to the City of London district.
The back alleys were considerably quieter, only the occasional stray dog and line of drying laundry to be seen. It made the rest of the journey only that much more pleasant. You preferred to use your walks to and from the orphanage as time for reflection.
Emerging back into the sunlight lazily draped across the brick buildings, you turned left and then hung a quick right, following the street up to a small cute little building. It was made of the same brick as the rest of the surrounding structures. The only difference was the roof had quite the patch job and the paint on the low fence needed to be touched up. The path leading up to the door was uneven, creating a hazard if one wasn't careful. Still, it filled your belly with warmth as you pressed the gate open. It creaked and groaned in protest under your touch, but quickly fell silent as you allowed it to fall closed behind you.
Even from the fence you could hear several excited squeals inside. Several little red faces peered out from the large window, their quick breaths fogging up the glass. “[Y/N]!” a little girl squealed as she pulled the wooden door open.
She couldn't have been more than seven, and was always eager to be the first to greet you when stopped by. “Sophie,” you greeted pleasantly, wrapping your arms around her gently as she ran to you. “Come, let's go grab the others. We can sit outside during lessons today.”
The girl giggled happily, her bright red curly hair bouncing around her shoulders as she tore back into the building to grab the other children. An older woman with short peppered hair stood in the doorway, leaning against it lightly as she watched the exchange. She didn't seem cross, or even phased by the squealing. “Ms. Penny,” you said lightly, tipping your head.
“Welcome, [Y/N]. I must stop by the market today. I don't supposed you would mind watching the children while I go? Ms. Caroline won't be in until later, and I would prefer to get started early with the cooking,” the older woman asked.
“Of course not, Ms. Penny. We'll be fine, as long as John doesn't start a fight this time,” you joked, your mind briefly flitting to when the young boy had nearly started an all out brawl over a few pieces of candy.
Ms. Penny rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Only heaven knows how I have patience for that child.”
“You're a saint,” you offered with a small smile. “Go on, then. We're going to get started.”
The older woman nodded and expressed her thanks before reentering the small house. Not a moment after her disappearance seven children came filing out. They were a mix of boys and girls between the ages of four and nine. Some had missing teeth, their gap-toothed smiles radiant as they saw you. Others were merely gruff looking, but you could easily see past the indifference.
“Ready?” you asked easily.
“Yes, Ms. [Y/N],” they replied in unison.
Satisfied, you smoothed the skirts of your dress and sat down on the edge of a stone bench, opening the book to the latest chapter. The group crowded around you, each vying for the seats closest to you. Sophie had managed to wiggle into your lap, her fingers tracing the words on the page as you began to read out loud. With the warmth of the sun on your back, you lost yourself in the ink and paper.
“Goodnight, Ms. Penny,” you said, offering her a smile. With a full belly you were more than happy to trudge back to your bed. It was a humble little room out of many in the building, but it was yours. To be honest, you really couldn't wait to get back to continue reading the book you had started the night before.
“Are you sure you'll be alright?” Ms. Penny asked, a hint of worry in her voice as she glanced up at the darkening sky. It had taken on darker tones of blue, casting a shadow down on the city that was only broken by the gas lights dotting the street.
“I'll be fine,” you assured. “It really isn't that far.”
“Goodnight then. We will see you next week.”
Bowing your head, you turned and began to make your way back to the bridge. Your boots clanked lightly against the street, the book at its usual place against your chest. The only difference was the daisy lightly pressed between its pages. The petals held their shape, though the stem drooped slightly from a day's use as a bookmark. Scrunching your nose against the pungent smell of tobacco, you decided to take the main road back to the Thames. The journey would have been quicker by carriage, but the little money you had in your pockets had to be saved for your landlord.
Cocking your head, you noticed several men standing off to the side, chatting quietly. Their bright red jackets made you inwardly cringe. The local gang was well known, though there were rumors going around that a new crew had taken up residence in Whitechapel. It wasn't news you had kept close attention to, but your neighbor had a mouth the size of the borough, so it was impossible not to hear.
Shrugging the uneasiness away with a good roll of your shoulders, you kept your eyes on the road in front of you. An indistinct dark shape ahead of you forced tension back into your spine as you tightened your grip on your book. The man took shape, but seemed to take no notice of you as he silently continued.
In several more paces you had come to the familiar bridge spanning the Thames. It looked different in the moonlight, almost sullen, as the hard edges became lined with shadows. The traffic was just as sparse here as it had been back in the streets, giving you at least a little comfort. Glancing over the wall, you noticed how the light reflected off the surface of the water like glass. It certainly made it more beautiful than it was in the daylight. Your steps slowed until they fully stopped.  The small village, while beautiful in its own way, had nothing on the city. Against your better judgment you lingered, admiring the stillness of the boats along the docks.
A sound caught your attention, drawing your gaze to a hunched over man leaning against the wall. He seemed ill, but every alarm bell was ringing in the back of your head, drawing you away from him. Turning, the breath was quickly snatched from your lungs as you collided with something very solid. A hand came out to steady you; the touch that lingered was gentle, though the fingers were calloused.
“Pardon me, miss,” a voice you recognized rang softly.
“I'm so sorry,” you breathed, gasping to regain control of your nerves.
The man from the market earlier in the day stood just a pace from you, his head tilted as he observed you for a moment. It was almost uncomfortable the way he stared, the hairs along the back of your neck standing up. He gave a wave of his hand, his sharp gaze moving from you to the man behind you, and then back.
“Please, allow me to walk you home,” he offered.
You hesitated, looking around. “Oh, it's really fine,” you insisted. “Mr.?”
“Jacob Frye at your service,” he replied, glancing around as well. “Wouldn't do for you to run into any trouble on your way home, now would it?”
He was right as much as you hated to admit it. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but the streets of London weren't always forgiving and with it being so late it was taking a bigger chance. Despite your reservations you found yourself nodding. “That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Frye.”
“After you, miss,” he said, flashing you a small grin as he gestured for you to lead the way.
“[Y/N],” you replied, giving him a small smile of your own.
He tipped his hat. “[Y/N],” he repeated, almost as if he was testing to see how it would roll off his tongue.
The two of you walked in relative silence, asking a question here and there about the other but not too much as to be invasive. You had to admit it was kind of nice to have the company, and it felt short lived as you approached the door to the building. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a key, only to have confusion and panic hit you as it failed to open the lock. Heat flushed your cheeks a bright pink that was hidden by the dark as you cleared your throat and tried again.
“Oh, well, this is awkward,” you choked out, glancing around. “This is the right place, I swear. I don't understand why I can't get in.”
Jacob raised a brow and looked at the door, trailing up the side of the building. None of the windows were open, leaving him with the option of breaking one of them out. While normally he may not have thought twice about it, he doubted you wanted shattered glass all over the place. Instead, he cleared his throat softly and looked at you, noting the distress lines creasing your brow.
“If I may?”
You looked at him questioningly, your stomach knotting as you rubbed the skin along your arms. When you remained silent he continued. “I have a place not far from here with an empty room. You are welcome to it, and I'm sure my sister has left some of her things there.”
Alarm tightened the muscles along your neck and shoulders, uneasiness threatening to suffocate you. As you considered your options, you realized they were few and rather pitiful. A room sounded much better than freezing to death in the early spring night air. Again you found yourself nodding in agreement.
“I would appreciate it.”
“Right this way, then.” Jacob seemed pleased with your acceptance as he turned, leading the way towards Whitechapel. It didn't take long to come up on a building set apart from the rest. It was several stories tall with various windows, made squarely from wood. It didn't look weathered – normal might be a word you would use to describe it.
Jacob strolled up to the door without a care, opening the door with ease. Despite his self-assured posture, he seemed to tip-toe across the threshold into the darkened house. You followed suit, being as quiet as you could be as he led you to a room not far past the entry way. “Here we are, then,” he whispered, pushing the bedroom door open.
It was a cozy little room with a simple bed, dresser, and desk with chair. The bed was made up with some linens and a candle sat unlit on the polished wooden desk.
“Everything you need should be here. Some of the lads may be here in the morning, so don't be alarmed if you hear them,” he said simply.
“I... thank you, Mr. Frye. I appreciate it.”
You wanted to ask him the dozens of questions that were buzzing in the back of your mind, but the late hour stilled your tongue. On top of exhaustion, it would be rude to ask your host so many questions. Without another word you slipped into the room before you changed your mind and let the door gently shut.
Jacob's footfalls gradually echoed and died, leaving you alone in the foreign room. Taking a deep breath, you quietly wedged the chair under the door handle. It wouldn't hold against any real assault, but it would at least serve as an alarm and give you the opportunity to get your wits about you. In the dresser you found a pair of casual pants and woven shirt. They were a bit loose, but you wouldn't complain.
Climbing into the bed, you finally allowed yourself to relax, the tension seeping away. You didn't have much time to reflect on what had happened as exhaustion tugged at the corners of your mind. There was so much to do in the morning, and you felt obligated to find out more about your proverbial knight in shining armor. But for now, sleep.
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