#we r getting a new mattress finally so no more floor sleeping. and went today to look for one

[basaltbutch]

why the fuck is the ikea restaurant actually so stacked though. hello??

[sareyen]

To my roomba with love (Cherik)

Read on ao3 

There are a lot of things that Erik loves about Charles. He loves all of the obvious things; Charles’s kindness, his intelligence, his laughter, his eyes. He also loves the little private things; the way Charles sneaks Erik his unwanted tomatoes, his warbled opera singing in the shower, that sensitive spot on his hip.

And he loves the silly things about Charles, especially the way the man has a habit of talking to inanimate objects when he thinks no one is looking. Charles has conversations with the kettle, the washing machine, and their roomba – and every time Erik eavesdrops on him, he falls in love with the man a little bit more.

***

It was a Sunday morning, somewhat late by Erik’s standards, the man’s fatigued body allowing him a few extra hours of sleep after a hectic business trip. Erik had barely gotten any sleep between meetings and flights, and when he had arrived back home to a half-asleep Charles he only had enough energy to shirk off his clothes before collapsing into bed beside his husband.

Still, despite his tiredness, Erik’s body woke him as the sun tried to filter into the bedroom, the single slither of sunlight enough to rouse him. Erik had surprisingly awoken to an empty bed, the patch of mattress dripped in the shape of Charles still warm.

Erik had pulled himself out of bed groggily, tugging on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, before quietly padding out of the bedroom in search of his missing husband. Erik stifled a yawn as he meandered through the hallway, ears pricking up at the sound of clinking glasses in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Kettle,” a whispered voice sounded from the kitchen as Erik neared, consonants soft and vowels gentle like the morning sun drifting through the parted curtains. The voice made Erik pause, the last of his sleep ebbing away. His silent steps came to a stop, Erik lingering outside the threshold of the kitchen and leaning against the plaster wall, small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Please work hard again today,” Charles said quietly, and Erik could imagine the man tapping the side of the kettle as he filled it with water. “You’re going to have to work double since Erik is back. Yes, yes, I know you’re getting old now, but you still do your job perfectly. Oh, of course! Your water comes out perfectly boiled, steaming and wonderful. Don’t sell yourself short, I’m not willing to sell you yet myself. You’ve been with us since my first PhD, I’m quite attached to you, you know. Oh, pish posh, I won’t have you belittle yourself like that, young lady.”

Erik covered his laugh with his hand, heart fluttering as he heard the water begin to boil and whistle.

“Shh, shh, shh, darling! You’ll wake Erik up,” Charles chided in a whispered tone as the kettle’s shrill cry rolled to a full boil, the light clatter of metal against metal cutting the sound off as Charles pulled ‘Miss Kettle’ from the stovetop. “We have to be quiet, I want to let him catch up on his sleep. He was so exhausted last night, we should let him lie in, hm? He’s been working so hard for us lately, he deserves a break.”

A surge in the desire to run into the kitchen and smother Charles with kisses thrummed through Erik, making his toes curl into the soft carpet. Erik contained himself, however, but let himself peek around the corner just in time to catch Charles pouring the boiling water into two mugs - a magenta one with a red E on the side, and a matching dark blue cup with a yellow C.

Erik was entranced as he watched Charles dunk the tea bags a few times, adding a dash of milk to each, his husband soon picking up both mugs and turning back to the kettle.

“Thank you for your hard work once again, Miss Kettle,” Charles murmured, the smile on his face reaching his azure eyes, making his sleep-rumpled visage and fluffy bedhead all the more endearing. “I’ve got to go see if Erik is awake yet, so good bye for now.”

With that, Erik quickly but silently tiptoed his way back to the bedroom, sliding into bed and closing his eyes, controlling his mouth’s urge to grin as he feigned sleep.

Charles soon entered the room, and Erik heard the light clack of a mug being placed on his bedside table, followed by the warm feeling of a kiss being pressed to his forehead.

Opening his eyes, Erik let himself smile as he was met with Charles’s beautiful face, the man’s red lips parting in muted surprise.

“Good morning, Liebling,” Erik said, Charles smiling as he leaned down once again, this time kissing Erik on the lips as he set down his own cup of morning tea to crawl onto the bed, weight of his thighs pressing against Erik’s sides.

“Morning, Erik,” Charles sighed against Erik’s mouth. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” Erik said, pulling Charles close to him. “Not at all.”

***

The washing machine beeped angrily, and Erik heard Charles curse under his breath, pausing in front of the laundry door on the way to the garage to head out on his daily run. Halfway through fastening his watch, Erik smiled as he heard his husband curse again, not too dissimilar from the way that tongue had curled around a moaned ‘Fuck’ during Erik’s early morning cardio session in bed.

“Don’t make that noise at me, young man,” Charles continued, followed by the noise of more buttons being pressed. “I know it’s early, but I need you to wash these bed sheets, otherwise your father and I will be sleeping on a barren mattress tonight.”

Erik had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to spill from his lips as Charles seemed to wrestle with their temperamental washing machine. The machine was somewhat new - a housewarming gift from Raven - but Charles had struggled to get used to the high-tech device that had options other than just warm wash and cold wash.

It was at times like this, though, that made Erik wonder about having children. Erik had never thought about having kids, about even settling down enough to even consider having them. Having lost his parents young, Erik had always been by himself, not growing attached to places or people, moving between cities and beds.

But then he had met Charles, and everything changed.

Charles had given him a home, back when he was still an undergrad and living in a shitty walk-up that didn’t have a working heater. That apartment had been their first home together, even if at the time Erik was adamant that they were no more than fuck buddies. But fuck buddies turned into friends, then into roommates, to boyfriends, to fiancés and, finally, to husbands.

They hadn’t thought about becoming parents, though. Charles had his hands full with his students, and at times it felt like he already had dozens of kids. And yet, sometimes, Erik would catch him like this, calling their furniture and their appliances his children, and Erik their Papa and…

Erik’s heart squeezed tight.

“Your father’s about to go on a run, you should get a little exercise too,” Charles chirped, punching a few buttons before hopping onto his toes to get the liquid washing detergent from the shelving above. Erik peered around the corner in time to catch the slight glint in Charles’s eye, the twitch in his lips as he thought of something apparently hilarious.

As the barrel inside the washing machine began to turn, Charles gave it a little pat on the lid.

“Good lad, enjoy your spin class,” Charles said, chuckling to himself as Erik’s eyes rolled, though his mouth was curled softly in matched amusement at his silly, adorable, utterly wonderful husband.

Erik was so absorbed in the warm cocoon of his heart that he didn’t notice Charles leaving the laundry, the man almost bumping into right Erik.

“Oh! Erik, you surprised me,” Charles said, not hesitating to slide his arms around Erik’s lithe frame to snuggle him against the wall. Erik’s arms fit around Charles with perfect familiarity, the German man pressing a kiss to Charles’s upturned cheek. “I had thought you already left on your run?”

“I was just about to,” Erik replied softly, Charles tilting his head up further to ask for a kiss, Erik indulging him willingly.

“Bring home some bagels on your way back?” Charles asked hopefully against Erik’s lips, the taller man chuckling.

“Anything for you, Liebling.”

***

When Erik got home from his run, body comfortably tired, he placed the bag of Charles’s favourite bagels on the kitchen counter along with his keys. Glancing around the room in search for his husband, Erik hummed to himself when he saw that it was empty.

Wiping some of his sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt, Erik leisurely made his way through the apartment until he heard the muffled accent of his husband in his study. Erik briefly wondered if the man was talking to Raven or Moira on the phone, but that notion was shot down quickly when Erik looked through the slight gap in the door, silently chuckling.

Charles was sitting at his desk, the papers he had apparently been grading left forgotten as he clapped to himself, the man watching something lazily move across the floor. The thing was near-silent if not for the whisper of a mechanical whir.

“Oh, look at you go!” Charles exclaimed, almost cooing as leaned down on his ornate desk chair, ushering the thing closer. “Come here, girl! Come here! Aw, that’s a good girl!”

The Roomba skittered across the hardwood floors, sucking up the dust and dirt as it went, beginning to approach Charles’s feet. The man giggled as it bumped into his toe, turning in a circle as it recalibrated itself. Charles then laughed at its apparent confusion, now folding himself over to give the device a scratch on its supposed head like it was a puppy.

The Roomba let out a short beep, before turning and sashaying back across the room to find its next pocket of dust.

“My, my, your appetite is quite impressive today,” Charles said, leaning his elbow on the desk as he smiled, watching the Roomba work. “Eat up as much as you can, Roo – you know how Erik is with dust.”

Erik momentarily thought about getting Charles a real dog, imagining his blue eyes widening with love at the tiny creature. He imagined Charles curled up on the couch with the pup on his chest, the two snoozing together. He imagined Charles reading a book with the puppy curled up on his lap. He imagined going on walks with Charles, holding his husband’s hand with his left, the puppy’s leash in the other.

Erik decided that he rather liked those images, filing them away in his mind amongst the many other things he wanted to experience with Charles. Things he would experience with Charles, because they had the rest of their lives to live together, after all. Erik would make sure of it.

But, for now, Erik merely opened the door to the study, Charles immediately looking up with an elated smile on his face, letting out a bright “Erik, you’re home!” Soon, Erik was embracing an armful of Charles, had warm arms draped around his neck, and his favourite pair of berry-red lips on his. “Welcome home, darling. How was your run?”

“Good,” Erik said succinctly, burying his head in Charles’s neck and breathing him in, the man chuckling. Pulling back, Erik kissed Charles on the tip of his nose, his husband’s cheeks warming slightly. “Sorry, I probably smell.”

“You smell like you,” Charles said, nuzzling Erik’s neck in return, and Erik could feel the slope of his husband’s smile against his shoulder. “But, you can go shower. I’ll get the coffee on and reheat those bagels. You did bring the bagels, right?”

“Mm, of course. They’re on the counter,” Erik said, Charles beaming, and disentangling himself with one last kiss to Erik’s cheek.

“Excellent, that’s why I love you, darling,” Charles said, skipping off to the kitchen to claim his bagels, Erik just smiling fondly after him.

Before Erik made his way to the bathroom, he heard Charles begin to speak again, but this time not to him.

No, when Charles spoke he said hello to the coffee machine, good morning to the toaster, and good day to the fridge, while Erik just thought -

And that’s just one of the many reasons why I love you, Charles.

[crutchie-with-a-y]

Chapter 2: The Morning Machine

Chapter 1

"Wait, wait, what?!" Specs almost spat out his beer in surprise. "Jack and Davey? Those stubborn idiots? They finally got together?"

"Yep," Smalls said, smacking the back of a pack of cigarettes and sticking one in her mouth. She leaned her face towards the end of Race's cigarette to light her own. "End of one of Jack's art galleries, he finally sold a piece, and he was so happy."

"Hey," Specs snapped the cigarette out from between her teeth and took a drag. "Aren't you a little young to be smoking?" The rest of them laughed while she bit her bottom lip in a smile of annoyance.

"A, I'm nineteen," She snatched it back. "And B, you started smoking at thirteen so I don't wanna hear it." The group chuckled. Elmer, Race, Smalls, Mush, Finch, and Specs had all been sitting on the fire escape sipping drinks and passing stories and updating Specs on all that had happened in the time that he'd been gone. They'd been at it for hours, but it didn't feel like it'd been that long. That's how time passed when Specs was with his crew. He remembered coming home around four when he was a kid and just talking with his friends until Sarah came in and asked if anyone had had dinner yet considering it was eleven. "And Jack's doing art galleries now?" Specs asked, glancing down at the cars that were sputtering to life in the street. They'd talked clean through those early hours of the morning that still feel like night, and now they'd reached the early hours of the actual morning when the sun peaked over the roofs of apartment buildings and people started heading out for school and work.   "Oh, yeah," Elmer started, but before he could continue, a brown-haired woman stuck her head out the window from the apartment to the fire escape. "Do any of you need any extra food for today? Considering that I have to leave in" She stopped rubbing her eyes to smack a thin, sage-colored watch on her wrist. "Jesus, I was supposed to leave already. Anyone need anything?" "SARAH!" Specs shouted with glee, causing her eyes to slam open. "Oh my lord, Specs, Darling! Where have you been?" Sarah smiled brightly with outstretched arms, the exhaustion wiped clear off her face. He stumbled over his friends and wrapped the only maternal figure he had in his life in the strongest hug he could muster. He used to run up to her and bury his face in her stomach, but now she barely reached his shoulder.  "I thought I said to stop growing at five-seven, " She grinned, lightly tapping his nose with her finger. "Now you're going to be hitting your head when you get inside." "What time is it, Sarah?" Race said, over-pronouncing the R in her name. The rest of the group was stretching out and picking up empty beers. "About 5:15, Racer," She responded, mimicking him. "Ah, shit, I gotta catch my train in ten minutes." Finch scooched past everyone and pushed himself through the window. Everyone else groaned in similar frustration and began to climb through the window. Except for Elmer, who stretched back out on the porch with his hands behind his head. "Ah, the joys of unemployment. I don't have to be anywhere today," He smirked, his eyes closed in relaxation. "You got fired, Nitwit," Mush smacked him in the back of the head. "You gotta go find a job and go get those kids up for Sarah." Elmer groaned. "Tell them there's a pot of oatmeal on the stove and I sweetened it so don't add any more sugar," Sarah said as she waved Specs through the window. Elmer nodded and climbed onto the outside of the fire escape. "Oh, Elmer use the LADDER, Lord, you gotta cut that out!" Sarah hollered as Elmer dropped from the edge of the fire escape onto the one below. Specs laughed as he stepped into the apartment he knew so well. It hadn't changed much. To the left of the fire escape window was a dim bedroom with no light fixtures, and to the right, it opened up into a living room that extended into a small kitchen with a tiny bar and no room for a table. The living room had a couple of ratty couches and a rocking chair facing a beat-up old television. Old, creaking mattresses were scattered all over the floor, some stacked with piles of blankets and some with sleeping bodies still in them. The walls were covered in drawings and notes and school papers that had been tacked up with pride. Specs smiled. He could still see some of his work decorating the room. It was so good to be back. "Where the hell did Elmer just go?" Specs asked, blinking out of his nostalgia. "Oh, we had enough growing boys and enough of us had jobs that we decided to rent out the Jamesons' apartment after they moved to California," Sarah informed him, walking into the kitchen. "Yeah, and 'cuz with all those "growing boys" this place smelled like actual ass," Smalls said, plopping her petite body down onto one of the couches. "Don't get too comfy, you got work too, You Little Brat," Mush reached over the back of the couch and picked her up, throwing her over the back of his shoulder and carrying her towards the bedroom, Smalls squealing as they went. "Ohhh, alright." Specs followed Sarah into the kitchen where she was bagging up sandwiches at the counter. He reached for a bag to help, but she poked him and gestured for the sink. He smirked and walked over to turn the faucet on and began scrubbing his hands. "Yeah, it's been nice to have the extra space. The bedroom up here has everyone's clothes in it, and downstairs we have a couple of desks and a crib." Sarah said, finishing with a little hum. Specs loved that sound. She always made it when she was happy about something. Specs could tell she was proud of how far they'd come since renting out that single bedroom all those years ago. He knew, he was there, he remembered it like it was yesterday. He was proud too. "Wait, what do you need a crib for? Specs questioned, flicking his hands. He did some quick calculations in his head. "Everyone should be.....twelve at least." "We have a couple of babies, well, used to be babies." Sarah pulled a marker out of a drawer and began scrawling names on the lunch bags in her smudged, loopy handwriting. Always was like that, Specs thought to himself. "Now I think they count as kids, but they're still small enough to sleep in a crib without too much protest." "Where the hell did you find babies?" Specs was still confused. "Sarah brought them in from work," Finch entered the kitchen to brush his teeth at the sink. "From work?" Specs glanced between the both of them, passing a bag to Sarah. "Yeah, she's a lunch lady at an elementary school," Finch said, his mouth foaming with toothpaste. "Can't you tell?" Sarah laughed, gesturing to her long, white, button-up dress and white sneakers. She stepped back from the counter and walked into the living room, kneeling in front of the TV to look at her reflection on the screen to pin up her hair. "Yeah, and some of the kids there didn't have a place to go so she brought them here. And they had younger siblings." Finch finished brushing and turned around, drying his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "That's....so nice of her." Specs looked back at Sarah, who had finished pinning up her hair and was now gentling shaking awake those who were still in bed. "I know and," Finch looked down at the rows of lunch bags sitting on the counter. "Christ, she did it again." Specs looked at him with his eyebrow raised. "She gets up every morning at like four and makes everyone lunches and breakfasts, no matter how old they are." He explained. "Just like she did when we were kids." Specs said quietly, his heart suddenly aching. "Yeah," Finch shook his head. Their attention was drawn away by the sound of the apartment door opening and a dozen footsteps coming in. A stream of kids, ages three to around seventeen came through the door, all yawning and chatting with each other. Some were carrying half-eaten bowls of oatmeal and some were jumping on each other's backs. Some of the faces Specs recognized, and others were entirely new to him. But they all had the innocent, playful aura of kids raised by the newsies of Lower Manhattan. As the apartment began to fill with lean bodies and laughter, none other than Jack Kelly stepped through the door in his loose white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, ushering the last of the line of youngens through the door. His eyes looked to his left at the kitchen counter and his brow furrowed. He stepped into the living room and raised his voice over the chatter. "So you mean to tell me that the lovely Ms. Sarah Jacobs with a full-time job got up at the ass-crack of dawn to make all of us breakfast and lunch and nobody is going to thank her?" Sarah looked up from where she had been kneeling on the floor in front of the mattress and locked eyes with Specs. Before she could move though, the swarm of bodies rushed towards her and latched on, yelling their "Thank Yous" and "You look so pretty todays" and "You're the bests" so loud the neighbors across the street must have heard. Then a couple of the older kids lifted her up on their shoulders, despite her giggling protests. They carried her towards the door when she began to say she needed to leave, and everyone shouted a wall-shaking "I LOVE YOU SARAH" as they lowered her to the door. She laughed loudly and said she loved everyone too before making her way down the hall. "Every morning," Race said, strolling into the kitchen behind Specs and his face-bursting smile. "I swear that woman has more children than God himself," Another familiar voice said, pushing through the door past the kids. David Jacobs slid into the kitchen, met by Jacks welcoming arms. "Specs! Specs, you're here!" David's eyes went wide as he noticed him. Specs had completely forgotten that he was even there, he felt like he'd been watching a movie. "I didn't even see you there!" Jack wrapped him in a tight hug...and then a scarring noogie. "H-HI, Jack," Specs wriggled out from under his arm. Jack laughed with the tip of his tongue hanging out. How has nothing and everything changed at the same time, Specs thought, looking between Jack's characteristic laugh and the arm David had wrapped around his waist. "How have you been, Mr. Deserts-Us-For-Another-City-That-Isn't-Even-Close-To-Santa-Fe?" Jack asked, bending down to toss a tennis ball back to some kids in the living room. "Santa Fucking Fe? You're still on that musty desert town?" "Hey, it is not a musty desert town!" Jack protested before the ringing of an alarm clock that sat on the counter interrupted. "That's my cue to leave," Finch said, patting Specs on the back and grabbing his lunch as he made his way towards the door. "I'll see you at around five or maybe meet you for lunch at Jacobi's?" He said. Specs nodded, realizing as soon as Finch had left that he didn't know when his lunch was. "And that's our cue to start packing up," Jack said, stepping back into the living room. "Aho, everyone. The alarm just buzzed so let's get moving. Let's see if we can beat seven minutes today, THOSE PAPES DON’T SELL THEMSELVES!" Jack clapped and everyone started speeding around the apartment, in what Specs thought could only describe as efficient chaos. Blankets and sheets were torn of mattresses and folded in the same blink of an eye. The bare mattresses were then stacked in the corner of the room, while another group of kids began washing oatmeal bowls off and stacking them on the counter before grabbing lunch bags and passing them to their friends who they were labeled too. Specs felt a little less than useless, as he didn't know how to help and mostly felt like just a block in the gears of this morning machine. But when Jack and David started pointing him out to kids they were assisting and their eyes lit up with recognition, that feeling was washed away. "Specs! Guys, it's Specs!" A mid-teens Sniper called to his buddies, before running up and nearly knocking him over with his enthusiastic embrace. The kids talked at a mile a minute, and Specs didn't have time to answer all their questions before Jack yelled that it was time to go, and everyone rushed to get in a line in front of the door, their every hand gripping one of the brown paper lunches as they waved goodbye and filed out into the hall. Before he closed the door behind the last kid whose hand David was holding, Jack grabbed his and David's lunch and scanned the apartment before laying his eyes on Elmer. "Where the hell is Crutch?" He asked him, narrowing his eyes. Elmer's hands flew up with innocence, but before he could say anything, Jack snapped his fingers at him. "Don't be getting smart with me. I asked you to help him up here, and if I hear that it took any more than thirty seconds for you to be helping him up here, you're dead meat, you hear?" He said, his tone assertive. Elmer sighed and nodded, swinging his feet off the couch. "Okay, okay, I'm going, Jack." "Alright," Jack's face switched back to his cheerful morning grin. "Tell Jacobi I'm covering your lunch, Specs. Actually, I'm stupid. We all have lunch. Let's all meet at Jacobi's for an early dinner. Sounds good?" He looked around and everyone nodded. "Elmer, you get the word out to everyone before the end of the day?" "You's always asking me to do stuff," Elmer moaned dramatically. "Ah, yes well that's what those who are in charge are supposed to do. I can see why you got fired." Jack said snarkily. "Alright, see you after work. Love you Elms!"  And with that he shut the door before the pillow Elmer through could get to him.

"As you can see, Jack is a completely different person," Race said dryly, spooning the last bit of his oatmeal into his mouth and heading towards the door. Specs chuckled as he watched through the window as Elmer dropped down the fire escape again. "Okay, I gotta be on my way too. Crutch could probably use a hand if you don't have any plans for the day. And make sure Elmer leaves by noon otherwise not everyone will know to come to Jacobi's for dinner. See ya!" And with that, Race spun out the door, and Specs was left alone, seeing his childhood home a way he had never seen it before. Empty.

[kerikaaria]

If  I Never Met You: Chapter 14

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Light angst, but mostly super fluffy

WC: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since our debut was revoked from us and we still hadn’t managed to work something out. June 13th was now only one month away and if we didn’t get them back on track very soon we’d have to start canceling everything we scheduled. Unfortunately, there was no way we could keep it from the boys any longer.

The boys had definitely noticed that there was a shift in me and Sejin – that we were busier than we were even before, and we seemed tense. I had dodged the questions up until this point, which was definitely made much easier by the fact that the only chance they had to see me was back at home in the evening periodically. I had spent the whole two weeks running myself ragged, ending up even more exhausted than I was when I first started this job and was still balancing school with it.

It hurt us so much to do it, but there was no more avoiding it. We decided to tell them after we moved to our new apartments, since they were so excited about it. We didn’t want their happiness over the change to be soiled by negative news. So the day after the move, exactly one month before their debut had been planned for, we gathered them all in the dance studio after their day of lessons were done to tell them the news.

“We have something really important to tell you guys,” I started off. I was trying my best to keep my composure, but I found it hard to say anything after that. “We…” I tried. I took in a deep breath and started again. “Two weeks ago, I…” I couldn’t bring myself to crush these boys’ dreams. I looked at Sejin oppa who nodded and placed his hand on my shoulder to silently tell me he’d deliver the information for me.

“About two weeks ago, we received a call from the company who said they’d run your debut stage,” Sejin explained as I slowly lowered down to the floor because I couldn’t keep myself steady on my feet. “I think you’ve noticed that the two of us have been busier than ever recently, and there’s definitely a reason for that.” He paused, probably to collect himself as well. It was just as hard for him as it was for me.

“Hyung, what’s going on?” Namjoon took the initiative to ask. “Did something happen?”

I hugged my knees close to my chest.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Sejin responded. “We were hoping that we could fix it quickly and you wouldn’t need to know it ever happened, but we haven’t been able to despite all of our efforts so far.”

At this point, the expressions on each of the boys’ faces were already too painful for me to look at, so I hid my face behind my knees, knowing that I couldn’t take seeing them when Sejin got around to the news.

“They told us they could no longer debut you guys,” Sejin finally said. “They confirmed that everything was set and ready to go, but then turned around and told us they can’t do it anymore.”

There was silence for a long moment. “So, we’re not going to debut?” Jungkook choked out, his voice weak.

That was it. The tears started flowing.

“I’m not saying that,” Sejin responded. “We’re doing everything we can to get you guys back on track. But, at this point we’re not sure if we can keep the June 13th date. We want to, but I don’t know if it’s possible.”

“But we’re going to be filming our first music video in a few days,” Hoseok said.

“All your current schedules are still happening,” Sejin said. “We’re still continuing with everything because we’re doing our best to put you guys back on track as soon as we can.”

I felt someone wrapping their arms around my shoulders, but didn’t want to look to see who because I didn’t want them to see my tears.

“You’ve been working really hard, haven’t you?” Seokjin said right next to me.

“We’ve been doing everything we can,” I said, trying to sound as stable as possible. “We didn’t want to worry you guys. I can’t believe we’re having to tell you about this. I should have been able to fix this.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, (Y/n),” Jin said, running his hand along my back to try to comfort me. “We know you’re doing your best. Nothing is your fault.”

I finally lifted my head, quickly wiping at my cheeks to brush the tears away. I looked around to see that everyone’s heads were lowered and they all look defeated. This news to them was pretty much the same thing as crushing their dreams. They were so close, their journey they’ve been working toward for so long was about to finally start, and then it was taken away from them.

I gripped onto Jin’s arms which were still wrapped around me and settled my head back into his shoulder. “I’m going to fix this.” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be. “I don’t care what I need to do to make it happen, but I’m going to get you guys debuted on June 13th. Whatever it takes.”

“Don’t run yourself dry, noona,” Jimin said, sliding over to where me and Jin sat on the floor and placing a hand on my knee. He tried offering me a smile, but it was strained. “We’ve already seen how hard you’ve been working these past few weeks, and I don’t know how much more of it you can take.”

“I’m not giving up,” I said. “Neither of us are. I’m not going to stop trying until I get you guys a debut date again.” I straightened myself and looked at Sejin who nodded to confirm he’s with me.

Sejin and I made sure that all their lessons for the following day were canceled, and excused members still in school from their classes as well so they could take a day to themselves. Our new homes were still within walking distance, so after we finished our conversation I walked back with all of the boys. I did my best to show some affection to each of them on the way, feeling terrible for the news we had to deliver tonight.

When we made it to our homes, I said good night and went to unlock my door. But I was stopped in my tracks by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around my shoulders from behind. I looked up to see Jin standing behind me.

“Don’t beat yourself up over what happened, (Y/n),” he almost whispered, resting his chin on top of my head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t worry, Jin,” I responded. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really, though?” he asked, a little louder. Jin knew me well, so he knew that I tended to take responsibility for things, and take things to heart more than I probably should.

I looked up at him and offered him a smile. “I am. Don’t worry about me.”

“Um, noona?” a nervous Jungkook started, making me realize that none of them had entered their dorm yet.

“What is it, Kookie?” I asked as I left Jin’s comforting embrace and walked toward him.

“Could you maybe, um…” he paused, seeming to have trouble forming his thoughts into words. “Could you sleep over today?”

I tilted my head in curiosity. “I only live right across the hall, and I’d end up sleeping on the floor if I stayed with you guys anyway,” I responded.

“I think what he means is we don’t want you to feel alone right now,” Hobi explained. “You and hyung been working hard, keeping this to yourselves for a while. But we want to be here for you.”

“And we’d really enjoy your company,” Namjoon added. “You know, since it’s been a while since we’ve actually been able to spend time with you. It might not be much, but it’s something at least.”

I smiled softly. “Alright. Let me go wash up and get changed into some more comfortable clothes and I’ll be right over.”

They left the door unlocked for me, and when I made it into their dorm I found a scene that was very busy. They were rearranging furniture and collecting blankets and pillows and tossing them into the living room, among other things.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“We’re preparing for a sleepover,” Taehyung said with an armful of blankets.

“I’m not quite sure I understand,” I said, trying to figure out what exactly they were doing.

“Well, we thought we could all sleep out here together,” Jimin said smiling.

“Oh,” I vocalized, finally understanding the scene in front of me. “But the floor is a bit uncomfortable, don’t you think?”

“We were going to bring a few mattresses out,” Jin added.

“Why are you guys doing this?” I asked. “Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but I can just sleep out here and you guys can sleep in your beds.”

“Is it uncomfortable for you, noona?” Hoseok asked, stopping in front of me. “We can stop and put everything back if it is.”

“Oh, I didn’t think about that,” Jungkook said. “It might be a bit awkward for you to sleep next to us, huh?”

Tae and Jimin seemed to simultaneously come to the realization of what they had suggested to me, their eyes going wide while everyone paused their actions.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, noona!” Namjoon said. “We didn’t think about that!”

I laughed. “No, no it’s not that. I mean we’re not shy with being touchy with each other so I don’t see much difference. It’s perfectly okay for me. I just thought this is an awful lot of trouble for one night.”

They all resumed their preparations at my reassurance, starting to bring mattresses out to the cleared area.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Yoongi said, slightly smiling.

I tried asking if I could help but they all told me to just wait in the kitchen, so I did. After they finished arranging the makeshift bed setup, Seokjin walked over to me.

“All set,” he smiled. “I don’t know about you, but we’re all exhausted.”

“Yeah, I am too,” I responded. Today had been another day of nonstop running around, not to mention the emotional weight added from our conversation tonight.

“Alright, let’s figure out how we’re arranging ourselves here,” Namjoon said, seeming to think of where on the ‘bed’ he wanted to sleep.

Yoongi was the first to pick his spot, opting for one at the edge of the mattresses. I guessed he wanted the least amount of contact with the others as possible, which didn’t surprise me.

“Noona, pick your spot,” Tae said, coming over to grab my arm and pull me towards the rest of them.

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” I chuckled. I decided to make myself comfortable right in the middle. After I sat down, Jin was quick to take the spot on my right.

Taehyung went to lay on my other side, but Jin shooed him away. “Yah, no way Taehyung. You’re not sleeping next to her.”

Taetae pouted. “Why do you get to but I can’t, hyung?”

“Because you will cuddle with whoever is next to you,” Jin replied. “I know she’s alright with being cuddly, but when we’re sleeping it’s a bit different, don’t you think?”

“That’s not fair,” Tae continued to whine.

While he was distracted, Jungkook took the opportunity to slide next to me.

“That was my spot, Jungkook!” Taehyung complained.

“No it’s not,” Kookie argued. “Hyung said you can’t sleep here.” He stuck his tongue out at Taehyung.

“Why does it matter who lays next to her?” Yoongi asked from his spot.

“Because it’s noona,” Jimin responded simply.

“Just pick a spot and go to sleep already,” Yoongi complained.

“Okay, fine. I’ll lie next to you then, hyung,” Taehyung replied.

“No way!” the elder of the two said. “You are not using me as your pillow.”

Hobi had made himself comfortable next to Jungkook. “Just lay next to me, Tae,” he offered.

While I sat there laughing at the whole scene that just unfolded, everybody managed to find their spots for the night, and Namjoon shut off the lights before laying down.

We all said good night and lay in silence while trying to drift off to sleep. Despite being tired, I found it not so easy to do so.

The maknae lying next to me let out a sigh. “I wonder if we’ll still get to debut,” he quietly said.

“We will, Kook-ah,” Namjoon said from somewhere on the opposite side. “Noona and hyung will make sure we do.”

“We’ve already gotten this far,” Jin added. “There’s no reason we can’t.”

“But we were so close, only for it to be taken away from us,” Hoseok said.

I heard sniffles coming from somewhere.

“I don’t want to be separated from you guys,” Jimin said, his voice shaky. “I know I haven’t been here as long as the rest of you, but you guys are like my family. I don’t know what I’d do if I can’t debut with you.”

“I feel the same,” Tae responded. “I’m going to stay with all of you as long as I possibly can. We have to stay together.”

“There’s no way I can just go home after making it this far,” Yoongi said. “I can’t face my parents telling me they told me so, when our debut is literally right in front of us.”

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Namjoon said. “You won’t need to. The only thing you’ll be showing them that you can be successful by following your dreams.”

Hearing them all talk like this made me feel both determined to make them debut, but also pressured to not fail in doing so. I turned onto my right side, and could just barely manage to see Jin looking at me in the darkness. I could feel his gaze examining me, maybe trying to gauge how I was feeling.

“We have both (Y/n) and Sejin hyung standing by us. We don’t have anything to worry about,” Seokjin said. He paused while he placed a warm hand on my cheek. “But also, I don’t want you to carry too much weight on your shoulders, (Y/n). I know you must feel pressured because you feel like our fate is in your hands. I can’t understand how that must feel for you. But just remember that we’re supporting you just as much as you’re supporting us. And if things end up not working the way we wanted them to, it’s okay. No matter what, we still trust you and even if it isn’t what we hoped, we’ll be happy with whatever you and hyung can do for us.”

I felt a tear unexpectedly fall from his comforting words. I silently nodded so he’d know that I understood what he said. “Don’t worry,” I finally managed to say. “I’m doing everything I can for you guys. I love you all.”

“We love you too, noona,” Namjoon said.

“Alright, can we get some sleep now please?” Yoongi asked.

I chuckled. “Yeah, let’s sleep.”

The next morning, I heard muffled voices around me as I started to slowly wake up. I somehow managed to remember that I slept in the boys’ living room so I didn’t feel shocked that I heard others around me. But what did surprise me was that I could feel I was hugging something very warm and very comfortable.

I pried my eyes open to see a broad chest dangerously close to me, my arm wrapped around its owner’s waist and his around mine as well, pulling me close to him. I slowly looked up to see Seokjin’s sleeping face just above my head.

“Oh, you’re awake, noona?” Namjoon whispered, sounding like he was trying to keep himself from laughing.

I looked over to see the other 6 members all staring at me and Jin, some with their phones out, and all of them trying to hold back laughter. I felt my cheeks flush, suddenly very aware of the position I was in, and certain I was red as a tomato. I tried to pull myself away, but Jin’s grip on me was surprisingly strong. As I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, I accidentally woke him up.

Slowly opening his eyes, he quickly realized what was going on and quickly let go of me while rushing to sit up. Now that we were both awake, there was nothing stopping his other members from breaking out into laughter.

“Oh my gosh, you two were so cute!” Hoseok said.

“Are you sure your nicknames and flirting are all just joking around?” Jimin asked.

“Hyung, you told me I couldn’t sleep next to her because I’d cuddle her,” Taehyung tried his best to sound upset despite talking between fits of giggles. “But you ended up doing just that!”

“Yah!” Jin yelled in the middle of all the madness. “Give me your phones!” He got up and started chasing the others around the room. “You better not have taken any pictures!”

“Oh, don’t worry, hyung,” Yoongi said. “I didn’t take any pictures, but I definitely got a video out of it.”

“Yoongi!” Jin yelled.

“It’s my payback for that picture you took of me and Taehyung, noona!” Yoongi said while he ran away from his hyung.

I fell back onto the mattress, unable to contain my laughter at the chaotic scene and all my embarrassment forgotten.

After a little while, things calmed down in the room once again and the boys were all relaxing, either on the couch or sitting somewhere on the mattresses. I took the moment of reprieve to take a look at my own phone. On a normal day I would have started work by now, but Sejin was firm with insisting I didn’t work today. With how much we’d been exhausting ourselves recently, he said we needed today to refresh and be ready to work even harder for tomorrow.

Jimin sat next to me and pulled up the picture he captured this morning to show me. “Look at that, you look so comfortable and peaceful, noona. You two honestly look so cute together.”

“You’d better delete that,” I said, trying to sneakily snatch his phone but his reflexes were quick and he pulled it away from me.

“Nope!” he flashed me his normally sweet smile, that definitely felt mischievous more than anything right now.

I chucked and I lay my head on Jimin’s shoulder as he scrolled through the gallery in his phone. I saw him pass by a video still showing all seven of them in their practice room.

“Wait, Jimin, go back,” I said. “What was that video?”

“Oh that?” he responded. “We film ourselves when we practice so we can see what we need to work on. That was from a few days ago.”

“Can I watch it?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said as he pressed play and turned on the volume.

I watched the practice intently, admiring how amazing of dancers they really were. Jimin cringed a couple of times, criticizing his own movements, but I couldn’t see any flaws. They looked amazing to me.

When the video came to an end, I realized something. “Jimin, can you e-mail that to me?”

“Yeah, sure, noona,” he responded. “But why?”

“Because I just got a great idea,” I looked at him and smiled.

I thanked Jimin as I received the e-mail a few moments later and went to check on their social media. They’d gotten over 2,000 followers on twitter now, which I would say was pretty good considering the fact that they hadn’t debuted yet. I made sure to take a few screenshots showing how much interaction they got.

Our phones all received notifications almost simultaneously. I opened up the group chat to find the video Yoongi mentioned this morning being shared. The video showed me snuggling closer to Seokjin while we slept, soon followed by me waking up and realizing what was going on, up until when Jin woke up and started yelling at the others.

The video being shared reignited the laughter among the boys, except for Jin of course who was yelling at them.

Meanwhile, I was feeling embarrassed for my unconscious self, until a realization hit me. “Yah, Yoongi!” I suddenly yelled, making him jump and most of the boys look over in my direction. “Sejin is in this group chat!”

“Yeah, I know,” the perpetrator replied with a smirk.

Not two seconds later, my phone rang. “I’m going to get you back later.” I narrowed my eyes at Suga while I answered the call from oppa to try to explain the situation to him.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope��� @misohime​ @netflix-batman-sleep​ @smallbaby-cat​ @leitholdwithlove​

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[gellavonhamster]

a room for one night

gen || R the Duchess of Winnipeg, Lemony Snicket, Bertrand Baudelaire, Kit Snicket || ships mentioned and/or implied: R/Beatrice, Lemony/Beatrice, Bertrand/Beatrice, Kit/Beatrice, Bertrand/Lemony || pre-canon 

ao3 link eng  || ao3 link rus

inspired by @beatricebidelaire‘s post that I can’t find now (tumblr search function, am I right?) but the idea was the following: two volunteers, the “there was only one bed” trope, but all they do at night is talk about Beatrice

“Should I sleep on the floor after all, perhaps? Lemony suggested.

R gave him a bewildered look. “I feel like we’ve slept in the same bed before often enough for you not to worry about propriety, haven’t we?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lemony raised the edge of a dull bed sheet covered in light blue polka dots, and tapped on the base of the bed. “I meant the beer crates.”  

They checked in the hostel early in the morning, left their belongings, and went out to explore the surroundings – not only and not so much out of tourist curiosity as to find the restaurant where they would have to spy on a couple of persons of interest to VFD tomorrow, select the table it would be the most convenient to spy from, and evaluate the escape routes just in case. After that they simply had to go to a café for root beer floats, and then they made the mistake of visiting a museum whose size they severely underestimated. The room had been checked for wiretapping and other unpleasant surprises of that sort earlier by another volunteer who was passing through the town but could not stay for long and perform the task that was ultimately assigned to Lemony and R. What that volunteer had not mentioned in their report was that the room had a sloped ceiling, so low in places that it was possible to bump one’s head by accident, as well as that the bed was essentially a mattress placed upon several beer crates put together. Though they were not happy about the ceiling, the bed, which they had a good look at only in the evening as they were preparing for sleep, only made them laugh.    

“Ah, that’s what you’re talking about. Come on, if they keep this bed in a double room, it means it won’t collapse under anyone. And I assume that many have tried…”  

“Your Grace.”

“I mean, this is a double room…”

“Your Grace,” Lemony repeated, shaking his head. Despite his deliberately disapproving voice, he was smiling. “Sometimes I cannot believe you belong to the cream of society.”  

“That’s because you do not spend enough time among all that cream. It is sour at best,” R climbed under the blanket. Her legs were aching a little after wandering the town and the museum, and the dubious bed felt like a paradisiacal cloud to her. “Hey, what’s with the face? Are you all right?”  

“Yes. No,” Lemony hesitated. “May I ask you something?”

R tensed up.

“Go ahead,” she consented. She had suspicions regarding what was bothering her friend, and she was not sure she wanted to talk about that.

“Do you hate me?”

R reached out and touched his forehead. Lemony frowned.

“What are you doing?”

Stalling for time, she thought, but what she said out loud, naturally, was a whole different thing.

“Checking if you have fever, since you seem to be raving.”  

“R, I am being serious,” Lemony pushed her hand away softly. Both of them were lying on their sides, face to face, and in the mellow light of the night lamp Ramona could see it clearly that he was talking completely seriously indeed – she could read it in his eyes and on his lips. “I am not asking you for politeness; I am asking for an honest answer. If my company is oppressive to you, I will get a separate room, and tomorrow we can organize work so that our paths would cross as seldom as possible.”

Ramona rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she spoke. “You want honesty? Here’s your honesty. No, I do not hate you. I love you, you fool,” and she wasn’t lying, wasn’t trying to spare his feelings. Lemony was her best friend from their very childhood. Despite his peculiar personality, it was easy for her to love him – it was a genuine, virtually familial attachment that was not complicated by anything superfluous.

“And Beatrice?”

He was watching her so intently and sadly that she couldn’t bear it and closed her eyes. She was silent. He kept waiting.

“I love her too,” she said finally. If her love for Lemony was simple and straightforward, then her love for Beatrice was disconcerting, at times uplifting, at times stupefying, and only one thing was clear: while there was friendship in it (in R’s opinion, no real love was possible without friendship at all), there was certainly nothing familial about it. “As if you do not know that.”  

“I do,” Lemony confirmed. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. Of course he knew everything and even more. In the area of romantic feelings towards Beatrice Baudelaire he was no less of an expert than she.

R sighed.

“You know I would not come between you, now that she has finally made up her mind and chosen you,” she said firmly, to him and to that small nasty part of her soul that kept wondering why Lemony Snicket should get what she had been dreaming of. “I cherish both of you too much. That may come as a shock to you, but crushes come and go,” shit, she promised to be honest, but when one is not completely sure if what one says is true, that does not count as a lie, does it? “But friends like the two of you are hard to come by. Are you going to ask me if I am happy for you? No, I am not happy that the girl I liked chose you,” that was a good word, ‘like’, it made everything less significant. “But I am happy that the two of my closest friends are together, and doing fine. Well, as fine as it can be for the most dramatic people I know.”      

“Hmm,” was all that Lemony said. He covered her hand with his. “I believe that you wouldn’t lie to me, and I want you to know that I am sincerely sorry that it all turned out like this. If I can do anything for you…”  

“You can,” R propped herself up on one elbow. She was eager to be done with this conversation as soon as possible. The more they discussed that, the more she thought about Beatrice, and so the more difficult it was to let her go. And she had already decided that she would let her go – it could not go one like this anymore. She deserved better. All of them deserved better. Maybe Lemony and Beatrice enjoyed drama, but she preferred comedy. “Stop trying to set me up with every girl we meet that I say is cute. Or at least stop using literary quotes for that purpose, I am begging you.”

Now it was Lemony’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Ramona, please, I’ve already apologized…”

“We still have to face that receptionist in the morning, you know.”

“What’s wrong with quotes?”

“They perplex normal people. Some things exist for VFD internal use only,” R put her head on the pillow again and winked at him. “Now let us go to sleep already, shall we?” 

***

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” Kit asked.

Bertrand looked up from the book, the preface to which was supposed to contain an encrypted message, and shifted his gaze to his friend. She was combing her hair by a rather dirty oval mirror. Usually Kit put her hair in a bun or a ponytail, and occasionally Bertrand (and many other people, in all likelihood) forgot how long and voluminous it was – a heavy brown waterfall.  

“If you are tired of your current hairstyle, then by all means you should,” he observed. “What is important is your own opinion on that.”

“I see. I don’t even know what I expected,” Kit put the comb down on the only nightstand present in the sparsely furnished motel room, and started plaiting her hair for the night. “Bertrand and his famed diplomacy…”  

Bertrand put the book aside.

“We can do without diplomacy,” he said in a tired voice, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He and Kit had driven for four hours today, and tomorrow they had to drive as much. The heat was unimaginable, the air conditioner in the taxi kept acting up, they had already eaten all the food they had with them, and the only kind of food one could come by in that part of the Hinterlands were crappy hot dogs and candy sold at gas stations. “I remember Olaf used to shower your hair with compliments all the time, and I get your wish to do something to spite him, but if you’re going to cut it every time the two of you split up, you’ll go broke splurging on hairdresser’s services.”  

“This is not ‘every’ time,” Kit threw her plait over her shoulder. “There will be no next time. And that has nothing to do with him. As to hairdressers, I can cut my own hair just fine. Now, if you like – I got scissors in my bag…”  

“I think you should get some sleep and think about this in the morning.”

The bed creaked when Kit climbed onto her half of it. As the old guy at the reception explained to them, there were no single rooms in the motel. “You can have one room with no trouble,” he told them in a conspiratorial voice. “Not a soul for many miles around! No one will know.” That amused them: it wasn’t often that they got mistaken for a couple. Bertrand was under the impression that the two of them, in their glasses of the same shape and even often with a similar facial expression, must rather resemble relatives – if not siblings, then cousins. “Easy, B,” he heard Jacques Snicket’s voice in his head. “This is my twin sister, not yours.” Bertrand grinned.  

“Olaf isn’t the only one who likes your hair, you know,” he pointed out. “For example, Beatrice said that they are, and I quote, ‘gorgeous’. She’s even a little bit jealous.”  

“Is that so?” Kit said. It was as if something in her face changed when he mentioned Beatrice, but that might have also been just a trick of the light in the dusk – the floor lamp by the bed, the nervously blinking neon sign outside. “I see you and her have grown quite close lately.”  

“We are working on a new production together.”

Kit was right, of course. He and Beatrice had been working at the same theatre for years, but they only really bonded lately, when the actor who was to play her lover had to leave on VFD business and his part in the play was given to Bertrand. Frankly speaking, he didn’t like Beatrice much until recently. He used to think her too loud and careless and pretentious, yet now the closer they got, the more he became convinced it was just another role that Beatrice used to protect her real self from fake friends, bootlickers, and the press. There was something extremely flattering in being allowed behind that façade, allowed to see the less kempt but at the same time more cosy space that it was hiding. Bertrand hoped to justify her confidence and not to lose her friendship – which was precisely why he knew well that at a certain point, they have to cease growing closer to each other.      

“I am not saying anything of that sort,” Kit remarked. “It is logical that the actors playing a pair of sweethearts spend a lot of time together – it is necessary to practice… and so on.”  

Bertrand turned off the floor lamp. It crossed his mind immediately that he shouldn’t have done that at that moment. It might have looked as if he didn’t want Kit to see his face or, for instance, to notice he was blushing. Not that he was actually blushing, of course.      

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Your brother’s relationship is under no threat. I am not the kind of person who could do that.” He almost added “Not to him”, but stopped short. He wanted to believe that he was not the type to ruin someone else’s happiness in any case, but there was something especially important in not ruining Lemony Snicket’s happiness. For a long time, their interaction used to come down to the debates of varying degree of seriousness, the non-committal (at least at first sight) discussions at the get-togethers, and Bertrand’s sincere frustration that Snicket seemed to dislike him. It was only lately that a careful friendship had come into being between them. When Bertrand tried to analyze that friendship, he ended up overwhelmed with the same feeling of awkwardness that resulted from his attempts to analyze his growing closeness with Beatrice, so he just allowed that friendship to grow, trying not to think of anything too hard. Anything but one thing: Lemony Snicket certainly was on the list of people he never ever wanted to cause any pain.        

“I know,” Kit replied. He couldn’t see her face: he was lying on his back, and she was on her side. But he could guess that she was smiling, and that her smile was far from being carefree. He couldn’t guess why, and he wasn’t sure he should. “Have you set the alarm?”  

“For six, as agreed. Will you be able to drive at that unearthly hour?”  

“You insult me,” now she must have been smiling from the bottom of her heart. “I could have driven all night without stopping for sleep. We’re in this doghole solely because I had pity on you, B. Appreciate it.”  

“I do appreciate,” he turned over to his side too. The thin curtains provided no protection from the handfuls of pink and green light that the neon sign was throwing at their window. Bertrand could make out the stripes on Kit’s pyjamas and the thick plait on her pillow, reminiscent of one of Monty’s snakes in the twilight. He remembered Kit’s words about the scissors in the bag. “So, have you changed your mind about cutting your hair?”    

“I have,” she answered, and he seemed to hear something strange in her voice and didn’t wish her good night, because he didn’t know what she, in turn, could hear in his.    

[mwcowan]

Mark & Georgia’s Big Trip

Chapter Seven – Miscellaneous Ramblings II

Another busy week, but that’s become the norm. At least this week we saw good progress towards getting everything together that we’ve been trying to get together. But not much of a theme so just some thoughts on the important events of the week.

Caretakers

The biggest milestone this week was that we selected and hired our housekeeper and caretaker. Plus their two boys – we will soon have a new family in our home, and we’re very excited. You’ll soon meet Ranny and Pina, and their boys Prince Denver and Ethan, who will take up residence in our caretaker’s apartment.

Ranny (pronounced “Ronny” – remember that the vowels AEIOU are pronounced here, without exception, Ah, Eh, Ee, Oh, Oo) for the previous seven years has worked as a groundskeeper for Kawayan Cove so he comes with excellent gardening and tree maintenance chops. Pina has been a homemaker, is a great cleaner and a good cook; Georgia says she’s a good student and will quickly learn our favorite dishes. She already knows that I like fresh fruit every morning – half the battle’s won already! Prince Denver (8 yrs) and Ethan (4 yrs) are just normal boys, though very polite. I think it’s going to be fun having them around.

Capiz

Capiz is both a province in the Philippines, on Panay Island, as well as an oyster from the area known for its special shell. A capiz oyster is on the left, the harvested and cleaned shell on the right. One shell of the oyster is flat, growing to 3-5 inches in diameter, and importantly, translucent.

You find all sorts of items here made from capiz – Christmas ornaments, outdoor lights, ashtrays, you name it. When we lived in the Bay Area, Georgia always said you could tell a Filipino’s house because of the capiz lights in the trees. Harvesting and producing craft items from the shells is today the principal livelihood of the people of Capiz. Historically, capiz is important in Philippines heritage and culture, one that’s given away by the Capiz oyster’s Western name: windowpane oyster. For thousands of years the shell served as the “glass” in Filipino windows; many older homes still feature these windows today.

So why this story about capiz? On this week’s trip to Manila, we were wandering around a mall and walked into an antique store. Stacked against the back wall we found a number of dusty old capiz windows. The shop owner had no hard information about their provenance but said they were likely from the 1800’s. They looked it; the Narra and Molave wood was weathered but the craftsmanship was still evident and not of this century. No nails or screws, the window frames are joined with hand-made mortise and tenons, held with wooden pegs. The capiz was dirty, but almost 100% intact – it looks fragile but is actually pretty sturdy stuff. We’re not sure yet what we’ll do with them, but we now have three panels. After an afternoon spent cleaning them we have a treasure we’ll proudly display.

Calamansi

I don’t think Calamansi has been featured in my Strange Fruit of the Day series; it’s really not that strange anyway. Calamansi is the citrus fruit of the Philippines. About ¾ to one inch in size, they look a lot like a key lime but aren’t limes. The insides and juice are orange, but they’re not oranges. They aren’t lemons either, they’re just Calamansi. They flavor many Filipino dishes: you’ll typically squeeze one onto your Pancit before eating, or onto your grilled fish, and they’re often an ingredient in the dipping sauces served with many dishes.

There are no limes here, so I had a dilemma: how to make a proper Gin and Tonic. Finding decent gin was easy (S&R/Costco), and after searching a few stores I found tonic water. But no limes. Calamansi to the rescue! I’m now able to enjoy my favorite summer cocktail. And it’s always summer here! Cheers!

The Massage Table

Massage is a way of life in the Philippines. Go to almost any beach and there will be massage tents set up, in the city there are plenty of establishments, or just call for home service. My only complaint, actually my neck’s complaint, is that the traditional Filipino massage is performed on a flat bed, not a massage table. You’ll sometimes find a real massage table but it’s rare. Fast forward to our weekly trip to S&R, and there it was! My neck had a sudden seizure as I tried to walk past, so into the cart it went! We set it up on the “meditation deck” and brought in a masseuse that Hervé and Lett turned us on to. She’s expensive, about $12 an hour, but good. Very good. Ahhhhhhhh, heaven!

Friends with Furniture

Our friends from Manila, Noel and Michelle Tanada, who have been mentioned before in my blogs (they’re the members at the Balesin Island Club with whom we’ve had some memorable trips) visited us yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever said much about them. Michelle is a former local TV star/singer; after that career a serial entrepreneur, starting and running businesses in the advertising field. Noel was originally headed for a career in law, but left that world for his art, which encompasses traditional forms such as painting and sculpture, but his real passion lies with interior design and furniture design. In all they do they only use native and sustainable materials, or recycled materials, and always local labor. You can learn more and view some of their products at www.ecohomeart.com. They are also both active environmentalists, deeply involved with coral rehabilitation (www.coralmovement.org). This shot is with them at Balesin Island last year.

Today’s visit was more than a social call as they delivered a van full of furniture, some of the last items for our living room. We’d asked Noel to create some custom bar chairs, a breakfast table and chairs, and a credenza. Since we live in Kawayan Cove he chose a bamboo theme (kawayan is the Tagalog word for bamboo). He also brought a special floor lamp for us. All beautiful and unique pieces we’re proud to have.

House Tour

Finally all the major furniture is here and the house is feeling pretty livable (though we did fine with just a plastic card table and a mattress on the floor for the first 2 weeks…). So, I’ll wrap this up with a photo tour of our newly furnished rooms.

First up is the living room. The coffee and end tables from the acacia slab have arrived, we’re very happy with them and like the way they go with the sofa and love seat. The turtle on the coffee table is from Puerto Vallarta and has a special connection with Kawayan Cove – every fall Olive Ridley sea turtles arrive at Kawayan Cove to lay their eggs.

These are two of the barstools Noel designed for us. Using 100% native and sustainable materials, the backs feature split bamboo and the upholstery is hand-woven Tikog grass from Leyte. Besides a warm an inviting look, Tikog is durable and has a very nice, soft feel. It’s woven into many items here, historically the Banig which is the traditional Filipno sleeping mat.

Also in the same style and materials are this breakfast table and chairs. Noel feels the table design is sexy, resembling a woman’s curves. You decide!

One of Noel’s more creative pieces is this dramatic floor lamp, reflected in our corner windows. The lamp is made of water hyacinth reeds. Beyond being a sustainable material, the use of water hyacinth has an additional benefit as it’s a nuisance here, growing quickly and clogging rivers and harbors.

New in our master bedroom is this computer desk, made of mahogany from our design by Boyet, one of the construction foremen for our contractor. Boyet also made all of the cabinets in the house.

Our small guest bedroom, the one with the great view, has two new side tables of acacia, which we picked up pre-made at the same place where we got our slab. Note the baskets on the wall, which made their way here from the White Sulphur Springs Ranch rummage sale!

Last up is our second guest bedroom. In trade for the lack of a view you get a larger room, with a sofa and coffee table, which is the final piece of our acacia slab. Any of you who visited the Mokawk Community Resource Center last fall will recognize two paintings by Tyler Jacobsen, and a woven wall hanging by Salli Wise. Sorry the bed’s not made, we’ll make sure that’s done before you arrive!

[anxietymymiddlename]

His and hers circumstances

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC4

Summary: Jeahee is going out with Zen? The surprising news leave her with a broken heart, still she can not find the courage to confess her feelings to her afraid that she will not accept her. Trying to confront her confusing emotions, Jumin enters her every day life like a storm while dealing with his own issues. A little bit more than friends, but with their emotions not sorted out yet, what will happen when they will end up under the same roof?

[Chapter 1]

[Chapter 2: My no. 1 person, surely....]

“Little by little I realized that my eyes were always following you, whether it was in the chatroom or in our gatherings… I wanted to hear your voice, I was graving for your smile. That’s why I knew that the smile I was graving for so much was always meant for someone else. Still, it was too late... My thoughts were already full of you.”

It’s been two years already since they first started sharing an apartment. Meeting Jaehee and the RFA seemed like something out of a book or - as Jaehee would say - like something out of the musicals ZEN was acting in. Still, it was the happiest period of her life. Working together, sharing the same roof, spending their free time discovering new things; she finally had a place to call home. If her meeting the RFA members had changed her life, then Jaehee was the one who gave meaning to it when she did it the most.

“Happy birthday!”

She jumped on her roommate’s bed after sneaking into the room. Her loud voice startled Jaehee in her sleep who screamed and pushed her away as a result. As expected from a judoka, her strength was not something to look down upon. She lost her balance and failing to hold onto the bed, she fell down dragging the blanket Jaehee was using along with her. Realizing what had happened, Jaehee gave her a stern look. Seeing her baffled expression first thing in the morning made her laugh, Jaehee puffed her cheeks to show displeasure, but with her messy hair and her eyes still red from sleep she only managed to make her think that she was cute.

“Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear Jaehee… Happy birthday to you!” she sung.

“Min-Seo… Just what were you thinking?” she finally chuckled leaving her bed and gave her a hugged her kneeling next to her. “I wanted to surprise you,” she smiled playfully. “Well, you did achieve that,” she sighed placing a hand on her chest.

It was her turn to hug her, causing her to fall back on the floor along with her. She hummed the birthday song as Jaehee whined about it; but she just rolled around on the floor, tangling her self in Jaehee’s blanket. It was Jaehee’s birthday, so it should be a special day and thus she could not help but smile. She was looking forward to give her her present and see the rest of the RFA members, Jaehee always had fun when everyone gathered together. Seeing her in such a good mood, her roomate could not help but smile back, how could be feel angry about that when she looked so happy to celebrate with her?

“Thank you,” she said. “Yes, let’s have fun today.” “Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” her eyes wondered to the clock. “Oh, look at the time!”

Anxious as she always was, she stood up quickly, padding on the floor with her slim, bare legs and left the room in a hurry. Min-Seo stretched her arms and legs lazily and crawled up on Jaehee’s bed, burring her face in her pillow and yawned; she was so excited last night about the following day she barely slept. Her light steps soon returned into the room. From the rustling sound, she could tell she was browsing through her clothes. The warmth of the bed already had an affect on her, she was about to give in to her drowsiness when Jaehee pulled her from her leg.

“You must get ready too you know!” she scolded her while holding her dress in the other hand and she grunted as a response holding on the mattress. “We can not be late,” Jaehee huddled, standing in her underwear. “So cold...” “I know,” she said blushing at the view, slamming her eyes shut. “But we still have time, take it easy today. It’s your birthday.” “I know, but...” she put on her dress and paused for a moment. “Today is a special day and I want everything to be perfect, so I can’t help but fee a bit impatient.”

Jaehee’s room was painted in a soothing lavender color; she had choosen it saying that she needed a color that it’d help relax when she was at home, replacing the dull white color it was originally painted with. Her desk was completely organized but the frame of her computer screen was always covered with sticker notes. Of course she had a tv in her room, they often watched DVDs there together, she had a great collection, her shelves were already overflowing with them. Needless to say, most of them were DVDs of musicals and movies ZEN had acted in. They were also placed in separate shelves while his rarest posters were decorating her walls.

Her eyes followed her as she was moving around the room and then carefully applied her make-up and did her hair. She sat up and crossed her legs, hugging the warm pillow. It was rare for her to do that in the past. Jaehee was already beautiful so she hardly had any need for it, she thought, but she was happy to see her taking care of herself lately, she was in high spirits. Resting her chin on the pillow, she whistled flirtatiously.

“Stop it!” Jaehee gave her an embarrassed look. “And please get ready!” “Hmmm? Jaehee… Did you change your shampoo?” she blinked at the pillow. “Eh? I’m using the same as usual.” “I see… Strange,” she said and dismissed the thought that it smelt kind of different.  “Min-Seo, get ready!” her voice was more demanding now. “Yes, boss!” she run out of the room laughing as Jaehee, seeing Jaehee’s furious look, she always got mad when she called her just but it was fun to see her reaction.

It was a special day indeed! There was no need to push Jaehee’s limits but it was fun teasing her. They were expecting everyone from the RFA to come to their cafe, the preparations were complete but Jaehee insisted to decorate her cake by herself. She was getting better and better at it. Her managing skills were top-notch and she had almost mastered brewing after taking classes to develop her skills but she was now evolving her baking too. Her mind could never rest, she always wanted to learn something new and it was clear that she was enjoying her job.

“Min-Seo, let’s go!” “Coming!”

They had seen the guys on X-mas day; it was a fun night, they had played games and exchanged gifts. Sadly she did not managed to pick the one Jaehee had prepared but she had at least managed to trade with Yoosug, getting the BD of the series ZEN had last stared in. Jaehee was ecstatic when she gave it to her; she was usually buying the DVD version since they were cheaper. They watched it together the next day. Jumin had not managed to join them, but she was hoping he would that day, Jaehee would be glad and it had been a while since everyone had gathered together.

Her phone buzzed. She opened the app, it was a message from Yoosug. 

“Good morning! Did you guys eat? I had omelet rice for breakfast. Looking forward to this afternoon!” “’Morning! We did. Getting ready for work now. See you guys there!”

The same evening, everyone showed up together, as promised, bringing presents for Jaehee. Well, almost everyone, the C&R CEO had not arrived yet. Taking their sits, they had already started sharing their news when Saeyoung waved towards the door. Jumin had just entered. Finally the group was complete and their table got livelier right away. As she had thought, it was a pity they had missed the opportunity on X-mas day. It seemed like everyone was feeling the same since the conversation went around their last gathering and their present exchange.

“What about your gift?”

A puzzling question she did not expect; he looked curious. Yet again it was rare but not unusual for Jumin to show surprising aspects of himself. Maybe he was sad that he was unable to attend, even though he was acting indifferently. No wonder he was visiting the cafe so often lately, was he feeling lonely? She didn’t have the time to think about it at that moment though. It was Jaehee’s birthday, but she was the only one missing from their table. She should go check how the decoration of the cake was going and fetch her.

“Jaehee, is the cake ready yet?” she asked entering the kitchen. “I’m putting the finishing touches,” she looked proud of it. “Everyone is waiting for you. Wow, it looks so good!” he praised her. “You think? I hope it’ll taste good too.” “I’m sure it will.” “I want everyone to enjoy it.” “Ah, this is a present from Jumin.” “Oh. Mr.H-Jumin came too? I’m glad.  “Not you too, Jaehee,” she frowned. “My bad. I should focus a bit more. Old habits die hard it seems,” she sighed, placing a hand on her cheek. “Can you please place it by the other presents?”

“Jaehee sighs a lot lately,” she thought.

So even Jaehee could be a bit overexcited for her birthday, she was constantly flustered by he smallest things since early in the morning and was checking her clock often. She was happy to see her opening up with time and being honest with her thoughts; to her eyes Jaehee was flourishing more and more by each day and she was elated to be by her side. If she could be just a bit selfish she’d wished they could spend that day alone together, but seeing her beaming like that, she knew the gathering was more than worth it.

“Actually, Min-Seo,” Jaehee touched her hand, that made her heart skip. “I wanted to confess something to you, but I could not find the right timing. It’s a bit embarra-”

“I’l listen!” she grabbed her hands excited it, her heart beating fast. “I’ll listen, so you don’ have to hold back!” “Ah… Thank you,” she looked confused but smiled. “I wanted to tell you for a long time now… But I was not sure about my feelings then, I was not even sure if it was the proper decision, so I thought it’d be best to test how things were going first and then tell everyone… But I feel I should tell you first, no I want to tell you first, you should be the first to know...” “Jaehee...” she was overjoyed. “Could she be...” “I’m going out with Zen… We decided we’d like to try living together.” “Me too!” “Eh?” “What?”

Jaehee’s perplexed face made her rewind her words in her head. What had she just said? Going out with Zen? They were going to live together? Did she misheard things? But how could that be possible? Had her heart stopped beating? She could not hear a sound, everything was blurry, but Jaehee’s eyes in front of her were looking for an answer. Living together with Zen? Jaehee? Her Jaehee? How? Why? Me too, she had said, was she an idiot or what? She was never hers, she knew that. Was she squeezing her hands in hers too much? What kind of expression did she had on her face? 

“Min-Seo?” “Me too! I also think you should try living together!” “Eh? You mean you knew?” she turned red. “I thought no one had found out we were dating!” “Ah… I speculated that was the case...” her laugh sounded so fake. “Just who do you take me for? Of course I knew… I jus waited for you to bring it up.” “Really?” her face relaxed a bit. “Ah…. I was so nervous. Zen told me we should have revealed it sooner but I was concerned whether you would approve of us or no. A romance withing the RFA could complicate things.”

That was so typical of her. Worrying about what others would think even in a situation like this. Her shoulders relaxed letting out the tension of the moment, she simpered. No point reacting like hat, she should comfort her, Jaehee deserved to be happy. Zen was a nice guy. They both deserved happiness. If she could find happiness in his hands, then it should be more than enough. Simple at that.

“You should not concern yourself with things like that. Plus, I’m sure that everyone will support you.”

It was no good, her voice trembled.

“Thank you, Min-Seo,” she squeezed her hands back. “You are a great friend. “Your best friend,” she smiled while her heart sunk. “My no. 1 friend!” she laughed. “Jaehee is my number one person too...” “I’m happy to hear that, thank you.” She nodded. “We should not let the others waiting,” she pushed her out of the door. “Go greet them, I’ll bring the cake.”

Holding back her feelings, the corners of her lips twitched as she forced a smile and followed behind her carrying the cake. It was the right thing to do, she ought to be happy for her, she had to. It was her fault she got her hopes up and misunderstood things, she had no one else to blame. Wasn’t it selfish that she was expecting Jaehee had realized and accepted her feelings when she was trying to hide them? But... When did they start dating anyway? She thought they were just meeting in a friendly way. How could they hide it so well? But did they really? After all she knew, since she was always watching her, that Jaehee was happiest when she was around Zen. Wasn’t it just her denying the facts, hoping that Jaehee would not make a move considering Zen’s career?  

“Smile, smile, you have to keep smiling, just endure it. Be happy for her. Sing happy birthday for her, it’s her special day, it’s supposed to be a happy day,” she reminded her self.

They were going to announce it by any minute. She hated the thought, but what confused her the most was the void left inside of her. It almost felt like she was unable to select a proper emotion. Was she angry? Sad? Happy? The sensation was awful, her whole body was numb. However, it would be better not to let her emotions show, for her shake and hers too.

Looking up, she met Jumin’s eyes. His expression staggered her, why was he brooding? C&R’s CEO was always perspective, so he might had noticed something was wrong with her. She avoided his gaze after giving him a sad smile, it was wrong to concern other people over it and she didn’t want to ruin everyone’s mood either. However, as they finally announced their relationship taking everyone by surprise, the pain in her heart grew stronger and she felt disgusting by herself for thinking that it would be nice if it didn’t last for long.

“Are you sure about this decision?” Jumin’s voice rung in her ears “What are you even asking her?”

“Zen is mad. No wonder. But I don’t want to heart it… I don’t want to hear her answer…”

“I am,”

“Why did you even have to ask? Of course I knew already… I knew, but...”

“Then I will support you, since I trust your judgment… So I will not hold back too.”

“Ah, he is right. Jaehee always takes everything into consideration. She wouldn’t make this decision if she was not sure about her feelings. I should support them too. I should… But, it’s hard...”

“Right, Min-Seo?” his voice snapped her out of the thoughts, he had said something about wine; naturally they’d want to celebrate. “Ah! Right… Wine. I think red wine would suit the happy occasion. I’ll go bring it.”

It was a great opportunity to leave the room; she had felt like running away since she left the kitchen after hearing the news. Did she remember to put up a smile before she leaves? She wasn’t sure. The cheerful chatting has started to feel more like an annoying background noise. Her throat was dry, maybe she needed a drink. Why should she pick one anyway? Her hand lingers over a bottle of Pinot Noir. She didn’t even feel like picking one for them after all. It would be nice if time just stopped, it’d be even better if she could rewind time.

An unexpected touch made her shudder. It was almost as if someone had caught her having these awful thoughts again. It was Jumin, the last person she’d ever expect to enter Rever’s kitchen. Did he follow her? For what reason? But somehow, she was glad to see him, him being there brought her back to reality again. She should pick a bottle, get over with it and go outside again to celebrate with them like nothing had happened.

“I can choose one for you,” he said and picked one

“Ah, a dolcetto… But... it has a bitter finish, unlike it’s name… ” her eyes followed his hand. “An unconventional pick… I will not accompany the cake well.”

“Christmas time is a busy period; it looks like fatigue already got to you. We are also busy during these days, so I can understand the toll it can cause to your body and mind. Why don’t you take a short break? I’ll tell the others.” “I don’t-“ she didn’t finish, he cut her by flinching her forehead. “Don’t let the customers see you like this. It’s unprofessional… You’ll also worry her…”

Was he trying to be considerate? She could hardly read his expression but he had helped her relax. It became hard to hold back her tears, she didn’t want to go back there so perturbed. It was obvious that he had figured it out. That fact frustrated her the most, but put her at ease the same time. She was thankful he reached out to her, giving her the time she needed. She wanted to say many things to him but she couldn’t find the words to thank him for not asking any questions, for not giving her a single judging look, for giving her time to recollect her thoughts and find her composure again... So she simply thanked him and he just nodded, not turning to look at her.

She bit her lower lip and run to the bathroom, sweeping her tears clumsily. She owed him one, but before that she had to let everything out and then go back to them wearing her best expression and then pretend that she was moved to tears by their announcement to cover for her puffy eyes until she was back to their apartment. Jaehee was not there, she would spend her night with ZE so she was able to cry her hear out freely. She cried and cried for hours until her eyes could not take it anymore and she laid on her bed exhausted.

Her phone buzzed. It was a notification from the RFA’s app. She sniffled her nose and decided to check it to help her mind wonder to something else. Yoosung, Saeyoung and Jumin were all n the chatroom. She was about to enter but stopped as she was about to sign in. What if they were discussing the news of Zen and Jaehee’s relationship? She didn’t want to participate to that. Cr She was ready to toss it to her side when she got a new notification, a message his time.

“Jumin….?” she clicked on it.

“Did you arrive home safely? If you need anyone to talk to, call me anytime.” “Yes, everything is fine! Thanks for joining us today, it was fun!! ^ 0 ^ “

She cringed at her own text. The exclamation points were one thing but the emoji was clearly an exaggeration; it made it look even more forced that it already was. Another text…

“I was happy to join. Let’s chat a bit more next time.”

A simple text. He did not push the conversation, was she too cold to him? She couldn’t tell. Then again Jumin usually responded calmly to any situation, he wouldn’t make a fuss over that. It was a long day and she did not had the energy to think about it. But she could at least make the keychain she had promised him to thank him, even though she was not sure if he was serious or not and give him the next time he would stop by the shop. Maybe that would help her keep her mind occupied too.

The night felt longer than usual, she had fallen asleep crying and woke up with a terrible headache. A bed, a wardrobe and a bookshelf filled with various books, a small table in the middle of the room. She thought that it looked pretty empty for the first time after two whole years, maybe she should have personalized it a bit more. It would her room even if she left it as it was, but it would not be their apartment for long. Without her this place she called home would feel even more emptier. The thought pierced her heart.

One day later, empty boxes were laying on the floor, while a couple of them were placed by the door already packed. She was gathering her stuff already, not hiding her excitement, but she was getting sentimental whenever she was taking a break. For the girl time she hated the efficiency she always admired about her, it mean the days they’d spent together would be less that she had first imaged.

“Should I leave a few of my framed posters behind? The wall looks so empty now...” she took a sip from her black coffee. “I know they’ll be safe with you.” “No need to worry about that,” she assured her. “Are you afraid you’ll get sick of him seeing his face everywhere in the apartment?” “That will never happen,” she laughed. “Thanks for helping me though. Sorry to bring this up to you so suddenly, but I’ve paid the rent for the next two months upfront-” “You know you shouldn’t though,” somehow her words made her mad. “I’ll be fine.” “Min-Seo is a strong person, so I have no doubts about that,” she said after a small pause. “But I’d feel bad if I could not give you time to decide if you’d like a new roommate or look for a new apartment. So it was just a selfish move on my part to make me feel less guilty.” “Well, I don’t plan to look for another roommate, so I guess I’ll leave this place sooner or later,” she said placing tape on another box. “I’ll miss it… It holds so many fond memories… I’ll miss the time we spend together after work too. Let’s make sure to meet up often…” “Yes, I’m looking forward to it...” her mouth felt bitter. “It’d be nice if you stayed there though. Now I think about it, it was almost covered with my things. It’ll be a nice opportunity to decorate it according to your taste… It feels like I forced my taste on you a lot.” “It’s ok… I loved it as it was...” she didn’t dare to look at her.“It’s going to be a busy day,” she continued after an awkward moment. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the day off? I can cover for you.” “God, I can’t believe it’s New Year’s Eve already! It’s fine. He is gong to meet me after we close the shop, but are you ok with the evening shift? Jumin was right, you look exhausted these days.” “I’ll be fine… I had a bit of trouble sleeping, that’s all. Maybe I should stop drinking coffee for a while.”

Coffee had nothing to do with her condition, but she could not explain the truth so it’s was her pathetic way to cover it up. Moreover, her work was keeping her mind busy, so it was the only way to escape her thoughts. Due to the holidays, the shop was swarmed by university students most of the time and that made their place livelier, thus it was also helping her mood. They had to close it a bit later than usual that day since their customers were more than willing to spend just a bit more time out with their dates of friends, purposely ignoring their closing time.

“Have a happy new year!” the employees waved at them. “Yes, see you in two days,” she smiled while locking the door. “Min-Seo, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” “I’d feel sorry for Zen if I would. I bet he planned a lot of romantic events just for today. Tell him to take good care of you for me,” she smirked. “And to beat up whoever tries to hit on you.” “You know something like that won’t happen,” she covered her mouth laughing. “Who knows,” she chuckled and put her hands in her pockets, she loved watching her laughing. “Then he’ll come save you shouting something like… Don’t touch my woman!” “Well, I can picture that, he does love his lines.” “Though his woman can protect her self with ease.” “That’s true!” “Well, I’d do the same though, anyone would want to have the chance to shine in front of the one they like. Jump like this,” she jumped n front of her and opened her arms wide. “And say… I will not let you touch this woman, she is mine and mine alone!” “Oh, this one was good too,” she clapped excited. “That tone really suited you!” “I’m not confident that I could win though,” she rubbed her neck slyly. “Running away would be a safer choice.” “Well, that could work too,” she snorted. “Jaehee...” “Hm?” she raised an eyebrow. “Have a wonderful night,” she smiled genuinely for the first time after a couple of days. “Thank you. You too.” “Well, I’m going to meet a friend, so I plan to have a blast tonight!” “I’ll be back in the morning, so let’s spend some time together, since it’s our day off.” “Ah! Zen is here!” she pointed at a black motorbike. “Gotta go then. Zen, have a happy new year!” she waved from afar. “You too!” he yelled under his helmet.

That was good enough. Her smile faded as soon as she turned her back to them. Maybe she should consider an acting career after the successful act she had put on the past two days. The night was cold, she buried her hands further into her pockets after adjusting her scarf. In reality, she had no plans, no friends to meet and a broken heart. Not the nicest way to spend New Year’s Eve. She didn’t want to call any of the other members either, she had decided it’d be best to spend the time alone since she wouldn’t be a good company.

“I need a drink...” she mumbled and breathed deeply.

The dry, cold air made her cough. She stopped, feeling tired her, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was a mess. Her breath clouded the window of her fancy salon in front of her, they looked busy inside; it was normal, everyone wanted to look nice in a day like that. Most of them probably had a date set already. And there she was, looking at them like a menacing witch, jealous of their happiness. Her hand touched the handle on an impulse and she entered inside.

“I’m sorry, can I ask you for something really quick...?” she asked loudly.

[nayakwon]

Chapter I

JULY 20, 2011

Orange County, Southern California, USA

“If you have gone through this already, you will most certainly recognize each following word: denial, anger, negotiation, depression, acceptance. Although death is the only certainty of all mankind, no one is ever prepared to go through emotional mourning”. 

Genre - angst, darkfic, fluff, smut

Warnings - [18+ but y’all know anyone actually respects this shit anymore] none, for the moment. Oh, and english is not my first language. I’m looking for someone to help me to edit the chapters. If u r interested, plz, inbox me. 

Words - 2k

She knew that from exactly sixty minutes on, a year would be complete. The girl's brown orbs were almost wide-eyed, fixed on the flashing red points that marked the hours on her digital clock by the bed. Even facing the opposite side, she could feel the look of her twin sister on her back, penetrating her ribs, giving the signal that she was also aware of the approaching date in three thousand six hundred seconds.

If you have gone through this already, you will most certainly recognize each following word: denial, anger, negotiation, depression, acceptance. Although death is the only certainty of all mankind, no one is ever prepared to go through emotional mourning. The intense pain, the feeling of revolt, the deep emptiness. The whole family was aware of all these emotions.

Just over a year ago, Naya Valentini and her family had lost two members of their family tree. Under her precise social perception, her favorite uncle and her younger sister. Matteo Valentini was that uncle that it didn’t matter the situation, he could make every single day better. He was the life of family reunions, and after getting divorced, it felt like he was doing better in life than anyone else in the world. That afternoon, in July 2010, he had taken the triplets Max, Graham and Sophie to the movies. Everyone was excited, talking about the debut of My Favorite Evil. What nobody knew was that when they returned, tragedy awaited them. The white van hit the driver's entire side, including the back.

When her parents arrived at the hospital after being notified, the news that Matteo had died instantly frightened them with the idea of the possible death of their sons hammering in the head. Fortunately, the boys would recover quickly, but Sophie had been rushed to the OR. Naya was not together during the emergency, in fact, she and her other siblings had lagged behind to take care of the new foster child of the family, a newborn.

At home, everything was in chaos, and she remembered the scene altogether, which her brain insisted on displaying in slow motion: Liam trying to make Autie stop screaming that she wanted to have gone along, Ethan almost blowing up the microwave while preparing something to eat. Naya tried to finish helping Devyn in the shower, but the baby's crying deconcentrated her.

With parents away from home and the dread of the idea of younger brothers and uncle being involved in an accident, the four elders were able - with much effort - to bring the heavy mattresses downstairs, where they had decided to spend the night together, with the strategy of getting a better look at the younger ones. It was dawn when her father arrived, finding all the children on the floor of their living room, sleeping, except for Lexi, who still was giving Joey a baby formula. Naya still remembered being awakened, and how her father had tried to be as gentle as he could be when telling that Uncle Matt and Sophie had died.

            "I can’t sleep either." She heard her sister's voice over her shoulder.

And in that simple sentence, it was possible to feel the weight. They both knew how difficult it had been for the whole family, especially the matriarch, who had lost her ground altogether. The situation was ten times worse when Moon entered the fourth and more difficult stage of mourning: depression. They knew that, like everyone else, she was struggling to move on, however, every time she looked at the newborn, the image of Sophie in her arms for the first time came back in flashes. Her father had suffered two losses at one time - his daughter and his older brother. The mornings in the kitchen, once livened up by the children's conversations, suddenly became quieter. The children's mother had just recovered from the last phase, acceptance, and the one-year anniversary had already arrived.

             "What do you think will happen today?" Lexi asked, but the silence was the only answer. "I just hope mom doesn’t freak out”.

Naya turned to her twin sister's side, pulling the blanket close to her face, realizing for the first time that night that they were both in the same position.

             “She will not. She is a force of nature.”  And there was definitely a very strong degree of precision in Naya's response. Her mother really was a very inspiring woman, beginning with her life story. Moon never had any kind of contact with her biological father, the only thing she knew was that he was part of USFK, the American Forces of Korea. After a one-night stand, her mother returned to Busan, where Moon was born and eventually, they moved to the United States only because her mother was deluded with life in a foreign country and the hope of marrying the father of her daughter. They didn’t find him and both spent some time in a homeless shelter. Moon was the one who decided to go to school and learn as much English as she could, teaching her mother on her free time after her first job. She ended up in college and became pregnant at a young age, resulting on a marriage with her boyfriend. Still studying, even if it was a distance program, as her children were born, she never for a second of her life gave up the dream of creating her own line of cosmetics. She started from the bottom, reselling some products in Beaufort, deciding to move to Los Angeles to finally open her store and put into practice what she had learned with a chemistry degree.

Nowadays, Moon had two stores in Southern California, and she did her best every day, always encouraging her kids to do the same. Today would also be a day without class. The family would visit the grave of Matteo Valentini, followed by the urn where Naya’s sister's ashes were. Moon was the one who insisted on cremation after Sophie's organ donation, because it was part of her Korean culture, and technically, the Valentini-Kwon family was 50% South Korean and 50% Italian.

             "Do you think about Sophie?" This time it was Naya who broke the moment of reflection.

             “Honestly?” Lexi turned up, staring at the ceiling before continuing. “Not anymore. Of course, I miss her. It must be a lot worse for the boys, I can’t even imagine what it would be like to lose you.” She referred to the fact that they shared the mother's womb. "But I believe I've been through it. I guess I’m fine now. How about you?”

             "I'm thinking about her now."

             "But that's because it's the death anniversary."

             "Yes. But I thought the same thing when dad came home that day and told us everything. Sophie was seven. She's gone without knowing what high school is like, or what it's like to kiss someone, or drive a car. She never got a chance to live. Unlike uncle Matt.” Naya adjusted a strand of her own hair. "Thinking about that makes me depressed. She could’ve had the world”.

             “I know.”

             "What about us?"

             “Sorry?” Without understanding the question, Lexi frowned.

             "What I mean is ..." The other one sat on the bed, the blanket dropped into her lap, just as her hair fell on top of her pajamas. "We can have the world, Sophie doesn’t. The question is: what are we doing with our lives?

             “Okay, Nay. Relax a little and get out of this life’s philosophy thing for a moment. You and I ... We're only sixteen. School-type things are our biggest concerns.” Lexi followed the twin, but as she got up, she went to sit on her sister’s bed.

            "But that's the point, Lexi. What if we die? I still have so many things that I want to do and we just… Exist. Sophie, she was seven, there wasn’t much she could have done except .... Bring some message to our family.” To say that seemed the correct interpretation. "And it hurts, but I do not want to end up like her, Lexi. I want to live. I want to decide what I'm going to do, challenge myself more. Because I can die tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow. I want to be like uncle Matt. He did everything he wanted.”

Alexia seemed to understand the meaning of that conversation, the reason of her reflective sister.

            "So, what do you want to do? Unrelated to, you know, with what we have now. Boyfriend, dance, friends, taking all of these things away?

The question took her by surprise, but perhaps her unconscious wanted that to be thrown on the table. What Naya wanted to do with her life? Once she finished her senior year of high school next year, what she would do? A small memory small came to when her interest in old movies began to emerge after a summer vacation at the grandparents' farm. After that, she remembered the godfather playing piano, and how he said she had a good voice. Her dream of being a musical actress began from there, along with an entire week only watching the famous Broadway performances. She actually achieved that.

Still with the thoughts turned to her godfather, she wondered if she should believe him. After so many refusals, she wouldn’t have the audacity of calling him and asking for advice, and not even would step on other people with incredible talent and much better than her because of their connection. The way was to try, go through all the phases of her challenge, as well as what her late sister would never have the opportunity to do.

With a smile sprouting just as a year had passed since the accident, Naya looked at her sister before she laid down again.

            “What? Why are you smiling? Naya?”

            "I've figured out what to do."

            "And you’ll not tell me?"

            “You’ll find out.”

So, the girl looked at the digital clock once again, following the moment when he had just shown 4:01, exactly one minute later after her younger sister was pronounced dead. However, the only thing she could do was smile. She had understood one of her sister’s missions in her short life, and hoped the rest of the family would understand soon enough. With a lighter heart, she whispered before falling asleep.

             "Thank you, Sophie.”

[i-am-too-sick]

A Fateful Encounter (2/2)

Here’s the second and final part of my collab with @nerdlycharming. This is apparently a series now because we cannot be stopped. Look for more collabs from us in the future! #sorrynotsorry

Word count: ~3000

-

Michael had nearly given up hope after four days of silence from Quinn. He worked every day during that time and had seen neither hide nor hair of his friend. The first day, he figured Quinn was just sleeping off the rest of the illness, but by the second day, he was convinced he'd done something wrong. Now, at 8 o'clock on the fourth day, he was sure he would never see Quinn again.

He was on his couch, trying and failing to read his murder mystery - he just couldn't focus. He kept thinking about how lovely he was and all the things he did that were wrong and messed things up with Quinn. He wasn't even sure if it was better to know what messed him up was not his being gay but everything else about him instead, or if that as worse.

Then, a knock on the door made him nearly jump out of his skin. “Just a minute!” He called out, voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat and stuck his bookmark in place before going to answer his door. Though his previous trail of thought was still fresh, he had no idea whatsoever about who could be at the door.

When Michael opened the door, his face nearly collided with a large cardboard box. It teetered some, before a dusty-colored brunette poked his head around the side.

Michael hastily grabbed the box from him, unable to keep a massive grin from his face. He chuckled, “Surprise indeed, I thought I'd never hear from you again!” He turned to set the box down inside. “Come, come in! You still look like you're gonna keel over!” His tone was joking, but he was still obviously concerned.

Quinn was still smiling, even when he shook his head and stepped back out of the doorway. “We can talk later. I need to get the rest of my stuff from the van before it starts pouring.” If it wasn't one thing it was another; the sky was overcast and gray and threatening to open up at any minute. The last thing Quinn wanted was for himself and his belongings to get drenched.

“Oh!” Michael exclaimed and immediately grabbed his coat--a grey plaid jacket that was lined in a fuzzy material--and putting it on over his black t-shirt with skull design. “I'll help you!” He offered, rushing to the door to assist in any way he could. He wasn't very strong, but an extra pair of hands couldn't hurt.

“Thanks,” Quinn said, leading Michael out to the moving van. He'd rented it for today and tomorrow, just to make sure he had time to get his stuff moved. He also wanted to make sure Michael even still wanted him for a roommate, but judging by how eager he was to help, Quinn could only assume that everything was okay.

The van had a mattress and a desk and a small collection of boxes, but nothing that would take too long if they worked together. “Do you mind helping me with the heavy stuff? My old roommate helped me get it in here, but I don't think I can unload it by myself.”

“Absolutely!” Michael was enthusiastic at first but only a second later he seemed to frown a bit. “I'm not very strong though, I dunno how helpful I'll be able to be.” He hoped he could be useful but his arms had more in common with overcooked spaghetti than muscle tissue.

“We can see how it goes,” Quinn said, shrugging. He wasn't particularly strong either. He'd lifted his brother a few times, but things had been dire and he was sure his strength had come from adrenaline alone. “I think they're more awkward than actually heavy. We just need to find a good grip. Let's get the mattress first.”

With a small nod Michael agreed and set out to grab hold of the mattress. “If you don't have a bed frame, I'm pretty sure my old roommate left his?” He wasn't terribly sure but his room had had one in it already, too, but it wasn't the size of his bed. It was a twin and his was a full.

“How shall we do this? Shall I go backwards or would you like to?” He way rightly sure he cared either way, but he was worried that going backwards might make Quinn dizzy - after all he still appeared to be a bit ill or at least still rundown from it.

“I'll go backwards,” Quinn offered. “Just make sure I don't run into anything.” He was all smiles now—completely different than how he'd been a few days ago. There was still a slight ache to his muscles and he definitely wasn't in top form, but he thought it helped a lot just to be able to go outside and move around, even if the weather was anything but favorable. “Ready?”

Another small nod from Michael signaled the go ahead and they began lifting. Quinn was still stronger than Michael, even still sick as he clearly was. They struggled into the building but a large jock stopped them by the elevator.

“You guys need some help?” He asked, switching his basketball to his other hip.

Quinn seemed to become bashful around the stranger. He'd met Michael mostly by accident and hadn't really gotten around to meeting anyone else. “I'm okay, thanks,” he said, looking at Michael. “Are you holding up over there?” He didn't want to answer for Michael if his friend was truly struggling.

Struggling or not, Michael shook his head but did not speak as of yet. He didn't want to look weak at all but especially not in front of Quinn. He hated it when people thought him weak or fragile.

The jock guy shrugged and left, helping at least to make sure they could get into the elevator before the doors closed.

“You sure you're good?” Michael asked, panting a bit.

Quinn nodded. He was a little more breathless than he'd usually be, but he wasn't worried about it.

The elevator opened and they shuffled out with the mattress, Quinn doing his best to look over his shoulder to make sure he didn't run into anything or anyone.

They made it to the apartment without incident. “Can you get the door? Or do we need to set it down and regroup?” Michael was not great at moving furniture so he was pretty unsure about things. He wasn't even totally sure the bed would make the turn into the apartment.

“I think I got it, just—” Quinn leaned his back against the wall, and balanced the mattress on his knee while he struggled with the doorknob. The mattress was a lot heavier than he expected, and he was tempted to just lean it against the nearest wall and call it done. But he also didn't want to put it off another day when they could easily just take care of it now.

“Got it,” he said once the door was slightly ajar and he regained his hold on the bed. “D’you think we can set it down and maybe just slide it across the floor?”

Michael was fatigued by now too but he simply had no excuse as Quinn had. He nodded before realising Quinn couldn't see. “Yeah...that works…” He was trying to remember now how many boxes Quinn had but he just couldn't. “My floor is clean.”

Quinn nodded. He hadn't been worried about dirt so much as not being able to hold the mattress for much longer. His limbs felt funny, like they were slowly but surely taking on the consistency of jelly. At least the desk wouldn't be as awkward to carry, he told himself as they set the mattress down.

Sliding it across the floor proved to be a much easier and effective way to move the mattress and in no time they had it in his new room and nestled securely on the bed frame Michael had mentioned. “Okay, the desk is next, and then maybe half a dozen boxes. Those aren't as heavy, I promise,” Quinn added sheepishly, thinking that Michael probably hadn't expected to help him move all his stuff in when he'd offered to be his roommate. “You doing okay?”

Despite the fatigue in his arms and legs Michael was still smiling back at him. “I'm alright, it's you I'm worried about, you look a bit peaky still.” He commented with a face full of concern.

The rest of the move went smoothly until it started pouring right before they went out for the last of Quinn's belongings. He tried to convince Michael that he didn't need to come out in the rain, but his friend was having none of it, so together they sprinted back and forth from the van, splashing through puddles and being pelted by cold rain.

They were both drenched by the time they'd finished, and Quinn remained just inside the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself as he shivered, teeth chattering. His movements had grown sluggish after they'd moved the desk into his room, his breathing ragged and fatigue weighing heavily on him.

He wasn't sure whether Michael had noticed any changes in him, but he knew it would be difficult to ignore the water dripping off his clothes as he trembled against the wall. He'd quickly noticed that Michael kept the place incredibly tidy and Quinn was worried about leaving water on the floor if he crossed the hallway into his bedroom.

“I-I’ll be r-right back. I n-need to move the van,” Quinn said. He'd left it parked out by the curb, but now that they were finished, he figured he should park it properly.

Michael shook his head, “you should go take a warm shower, I'll move the van.” He didn't mention the fact that he wasn't supposed to operate machinery. It would be fine with such a short distance, right? Just as long as he didn't encounter any strobe lights?

“Then, I'll make some tea, yeah?” He offered a smile. “There's leftover pasta in the fridge too, the noodles are home made!” He seemed to be quite proud of that.

“I can't ask you to do that,” Quinn said, shaking his head and sniffling, “especially because you already helped me move all my stuff in, and now you're soaked because of me.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket, muffling a cough into his elbow. “Plus, I'm the only one on the lease and the only one allowed to drive it.” He gave Michael a sheepish smile before ducking back out into the rain, hopefully for the last time today.

Quinn might not have looked the type, especially with how he seemed to run himself to exhaustion, but he was a stickler for following the rules. He took them very seriously.

Michael figured that was probably for the best, he was never totally sure when he'd have a seizure and he always looked away when he was in a car, terrified that any form of flashing lights would cause one even though he knew it to be unlikely.

Still, he felt honourbound to follow, though, jogging to catch up. “Hey! I'll come too!” He called out. “You shouldn't have be the only one in the rain, plus, who would help if you keel over again?” He teased.

Quinn gave a lighthearted chuckle as they climbed into the van. Whether because he was cold and wet or from the move itself, he wasn't sure, but he didn't really feel so great. He was dizzy and tired and achy and cold, and for the first time that day, he began to wonder if he overdid it again.

He backed the van into the first spot he could find, and despite being eager to get back inside where it was warm, he walked through the parking lot like he was moving through a tub of molasses. Ducking his head and wearing his hood did little to protect him from the sheets of rain that continued to fall.

Michael took off his jacket and put it around Quinn. “Come on, let's get this over with and get you warmed back up.” He wasn't sure where the boundaries were yet, but he could definitely be a mother hen type regardless of the relationship.

“I think you may have overdone it a bit. You should probably take a warm shower and head right to bed.” As much as he wanted to spend more time getting to know his new friend, he knew that would be better for him.

Quinn was still shaking as they walked through the front door. He felt guilty about taking Michael's jacket and having him help him move and a whole slew of other things that Michael had done for him in the short time they'd known each other. “I just want to c-change clothes and s-sit down for a bit.”

“You really should warm up first…” Michael seemed pretty worried about him but he nodded. “It's up to you though, I can't make you shower or anything.” He chuckled awkwardly knowing he'd just done something odd. “I'll go put the kettle on.”

And with that he shuffled away quickly to the kitchen, presumably to go start the tea. He felt flustered knowing how odd he'd just been, he meant well, he really did.

If Quinn thought anything about Michael's behavior he didn't say it, instead shuffling to his new bedroom for a change of clothes. He searched through his dufflebag for something warm, finally changing into pajama pants and a sweatshirt.

He felt sluggish and weak, like he had a fever, and he was willing to bet that he did. Crossing back into the living room, he noticed Michael still standing at the kitchen. “You haven't changed? You're just as soaked as I am.”

Michael jumped, Quinn having brought him back to reality. “What? Oh uh...yeah, I was just waiting for the tea.” He gestured to two steaming mugs beside him. “They're just about done steeping.”

He carefully picked them up and brought one over to Quinn and kept hold of his own, trying to commandeer its warmth for himself as he was shivering too.

“Go ahead and watch whatever you want,” he said with a head nod toward the living room television. “I think I may go have a shower actually.” He looked terribly frozen now in the light of the living room. He sipped at his tea before setting it down on a side table and heading off towards the bathroom.

Once Quinn was alone, he got comfortable on the couch and stared down into his tea. He enjoyed having the warmth leak into his fingertips rather than actually drinking it. It was nothing against Michael's tea-making ability, though.

Quinn had done a lot of thinking about Michael over the last few days. Sometimes he had a hard time getting his friend’s image out of his head even when he tried. There was something about him, and maybe it was because he'd been so incredibly kind and helpful when Quinn had really needed it, but now Quinn couldn't help but wonder—was he developing a crush?

He stared down absently into his drink until it started to cool, wondering how this would all play out.

Michael returned after a while, also in pajamas. He smiled at Quinn after sipping at his tea. He settled easily on the opposite end of the couch and became engrossed in the show, occasionally sipping at his drink.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, breaking the relative silence.

“Not great,” Quinn answered honestly, giving a halfhearted shrug. He gave a small smile, trying to convey and reassure that he wasn't nearly as bad off as last time. “Guess it was too early to be moving furniture and traipsing around in the rain, huh?”

Michael gave a small giggle. “Guess so.” He stood up and grabbed the throw blanket from before and tossed it at Quinn, not tucking him in like before. “I hope you feel better soon. Did you get any pasta by the way?”

Quinn shook his head. “I'm not really hungry. Haven't been since the other day. Thank you, though.” He yawned, burying himself in the blanket. It wasn't weird for him to snuggle with Michael's blanket, was it? After all, his friend had given it to him to use, and he really was still cold. “You like Pokemon?” he asked curiously, eyeing the pattern on the throw.

Michael nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I'm kinda nerdy honestly…” he admitted, blushing nearly as red as the blanket.

“What about you? What do you like?”

Quinn might have replied that he liked researching and learning, scary movies, pizza, and the color blue, but as Michael was looking over to hear his response, he noticed that Quinn had dozed off already, his head leaning back against the cushions and the blanket tucked snugly around his body. Michael smiled at this, mumbling a quick goodnight before heading to his own room and settling into a new book.

It wouldn't have been either boy's ideal first night with a new roommate, but there was nothing to be done about it now, and that just meant they had the rest of their college careers to get to know each other.

[cami-chats]

What You Want

Title: What You Want

Link: AO3 (full text also below)

Square Filled: Tony Stark/Wanda Maximoff

Ship: Tony Stark/Wanda Maximoff

Rating: Explicit

Major Tags: None, but there is explicit sexual content. 

Summary: Tony has the worst day, and it’s the best surprise he could hope for that Wanda comes back from Sokovia early. 

Word Count: 1575

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Full Text under the read more

Tony had had a rough day. Wanda was gone to visit Pietro in Sokovia to help rebuild-- which was fine, great even-- but that meant he woke up alone, and that was never pleasant. He had gotten to bed late, took forever to get to sleep, and had to wake up early, all without Wanda. There was a meeting where he pitched the energy sufficient bus to donate to orphanages, and it was supposed to be a formality, only the Board withdrew their support and now Pepper had to go to all of them to nicely ask what the fuck happened.

In his anger from the meeting, he spilled coffee on himself, so he had to change clothes and rush to an R&D get-together, where someone then bumped into him-- on accident of course, and they did apologize profusely-- and got oil on his shirt. He didn’t feel like changing again, so he went to the ‘shop afterwards, and DUM-E doused him with the fire extinguisher because spilled oil was a fire hazard, he had learned. By that point, Tony was so tired of both life and dealing with bullshit that he laid on the couch in self pity before he cleaned everything up, and that took a while. He was still in the dirty suit, but it was covered in white powder rather than foam so it was acceptable for walking around.

The day felt like a waste. He hadn’t accomplished anything, and he was fucking miserable. Wanda wasn’t supposed to be back for another four days, so Tony resigned himself to not being in a super mood.

The elevator opened to the penthouse, and Tony sighed in relief. He started tugging at his tie and toed off his shoes, getting angry when they didn’t want to come off easily. He left them laying on the floor and threw his jacket on top of them.

He turned towards the bedroom, then froze. Wanda froze too, looking at him with wide eyes. She’d obviously been sneaking around, hair pulled back and holding a little black shopping bag in one hand as she did. She pouted, going to a normal stance and hiding the bag behind her legs. “I thought you’d be working longer.”

“I had a bad day, decided to turn in early. I thought you were going to be in Sokovia a few more days?”

She smiled, a touch wistfully. “I missed you. I came back, but just for a couple days, then I’m gone again. I was thinking that visits like this would be easier than being gone for so long.”

“And people say I’m the smart one.”

“Clearly we’re a power couple, come on Tony, think,” she teased, carefully staying back instead of meeting him halfway when he walked forward.

“Something wrong?”

Wanda sighed, letting her arms go by her side so the bag was again visible. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Tony spread his hands. “I consider myself appropriately surprised.”

“No, not that,” she said, rolling her eyes. She held the bag up and shook it. “I got new lingerie.”

“Oh,” Tony said, a touch breathlessly. He moved closer and put his arms around her waist. “That would have been a great surprise, but this is good too.” He kissed her, moaning softly when she sucked on his tongue and pushed her breasts against him firmly. “How about I take a shower, and you get dressed.”

“Hm.” She grinned at him, stealing another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

As a general rule, Tony showered quickly, but this time he rushed even more; he couldn’t hurry through drying off, but he certainly tried. When he came out, Wanda was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hair loose. Her legs were spread and she had her arms behind her to draw attention to her breasts, not that she needed help with that bra on. The set was red, made of sheer fabric that clearly showed the wet spot on the panties and the way her nipples had peaked.

Tony licked his lips as he walked to her. “Look at you,” he whispered. “You’re so excited, I barely have to do anything.” He tangled his fingers in her hair as he cupped one of her breasts. The wire ribbing for support made her shiver when he pushed up on it, and he thumbed over her nipple with reverence in his eyes.

He was perfectly content to stare at her all night, giving light touches and watching her react, but Wanda wasn’t. She pulled his face down and kissed him fiercely. “You can tease me later, right now I just need you to fuck me.”

“No arguments here. Missed you so much.” Tony broke away to go to the nightstand and pull out a condom and lube.

Wanda pulled off her panties and threw them to the side, then laid in the middle of the bed, idly rubbing her swollen clit while she waited. When she noticed Tony staring-- again-- she winked at him, deciding that if he was going to ogle, she might as well give a show. She grabbed a pillow and stuck it under her hips, drawing her legs up. She lowered one hand to her pussy, dipping her fingers in shallowly then brushed them lightly over her labia. “Mm.” She licked her lips and brought her knees up to frame her chest, then threw her other arm above her head, twining her fingers in her long hair and tugging experimentally. It wasn’t perfect, but it brought enough of a zing that she did it again, giving an exaggerated moan.

“Well now you’re just faking it,” Tony said, and it would have sounded considerably more snarky if he wasn’t breathless and taking it all in with wide blown pupils and a hard cock that was straining towards her.

“Who gives a fuck,” Wanda replied, equally short of breath. “If you look at me like a porn star, I’m going to act like a porn star.” She circled her clit with a now-wet finger, feeling her inner muscles clench at the bare stimulation.

“Trust me Wanda, I do not look at you like you’re a porn star.”

“I’m not sure if that’s-” her breath hitched as she gave herself more pressure “-that’s good or bad.”

“It’s definitely good.” Tony tossed the supplies next to her and climbed between her legs, smoothing one hand up the back of her thigh and leaning down to kiss her. “How’re you feeling?” he asked, pushing two calloused fingers inside her. They went in easily, and he twisted his fingers as he pumped them in and out.

“Like I’ve been ready for you to fuck me for hours.”

“You’re certainly wet enough.” Tony withdrew his fingers and wiped them haphazardly on the blanket, ripping open the condom package and rolling it on.

“Yeah no shit,” she growled, shifting to get comfortable and teasing at her nipples again. She half-wished they’d get out the pump, make them big and tender and play with them for hours, but god right now she just needed Tony to fuck her, and fuck her hard, like can’t-walk-straight-tomorrow hard.

He’d lubed up while she was fantasizing, and pressed the tip of the head at her vagina, not having to wait for her to relax because she was already welcoming him in.

She tugged hard on one of her nipples, arching up with a cry. “T-tomorrow, can we?”

“Yeah. Yeah baby, anything you want.” He leaned down to kiss her, feeling his cock inch in as he did. “Anything you want.” He was leaning on his forearm for balance, and he shifted so he could slide one of the bra straps off her shoulder and kissed the exposed skin. Tony sat up and put his other hand on her thigh, then thrust forward at the same time he pulled her towards him so she was seated on his lap. “You good?”

Wanda scrambled for the headboard and braced herself, nodding vigorously. Tony pulled most of the way out, then slammed back in, setting a ruthless pace that had both of them gasping and moaning, the room filled with lewd sounds. It didn’t take Wanda long to finish with Tony hitting her G-spot so consistently-- and that she had missed him like a physical ache didn’t hurt either-- her muscles clenching down and fluttering on his cock as she came. Tony gasped out a quiet, “Fuck,” when he came a minute later, hips moving reflexively.

He rested his forehead on her breastbone, panting, fingers still holding her thighs tightly. Wanda clumsily pet his hair, breathing heavily, but he didn’t seem to mind the way it made his head move. “So.” She licked her lips and swallowed, dropping her arms onto the bed. “How was your day?”

Laughter bubbled up in Tony, making his shoulders shake. He kissed the nearest patch of skin, still smiling, and finally let go of her legs, easing them down to the mattress. Carefully, he pulled out, patting her entrance softly to get rid of some of the sensitivity. He took off the condom and tied it, then grabbed some tissues, cleaning both of them as best he could.

When they were under the covers and their knees were knocking together, Tony kissed the back of Wanda’s hand that he was holding. “You have no idea how happy I am that you came back today.”

[holdmekhh]

Time & Distance

Artist/Person : Yang HongWon/Young B

Group/Crew : Dickids Crew/Indigo Music

Genre : Angst/Fluff

Word Count : 2055

Requested : Hey! Can you please write an angst Young B scenario? :) maybe a long distance relationship, and the reader is still a student. The reader feels neglected and unimportant in hongwon’s life lately & feels he has negatively changed. Thanks!! ♡♡

A/N: I’m sorry that it took so long, but I was extremely busy! I hope you enjoy!

I’d been staring at the black screen for the past 5 minutes, but I wasn’t shocked. No, I was annoyed. I’d called him four times, yet there was no answer. Of course. This wasn’t new, the unanswered facetime calls. No, it’d been happening for the past month and a half. He wouldn’t answer my texts until hours later. Wouldn’t answer my calls or facetimes, or when he did they’d end quickly along with our angry bickering. My breathing would be harsh, tears heavy on my eyelashes. It was all so normal to me now, and I hated it. I hated the fact that whenever he would tell me to call, or would text me, all that I’d feel was annoyance. I hated that the boy that I once loved to talk to, now only made me feel too anxious to speak. I was angry at the fact the boy that once made me so happy, made me feel so wanted and loved, only made me cry and get angry to the point of stepping out of character to scream at him. It hurt.

I’d seen this same thing happen before, to my parents. The way that they’d switched completely. How the characteristics changed and they began to fight all the time. The house that was once quiet and full of love turned into house full of yelling. I’d seen the way tears flowed from my mother’s eyes when she’d turn away from my dad. And the fact that the same is happening to me, only makes me hurt inside.

Setting my phone down on my desk, a sigh passing through my lips, I stood from my chair. Grabbing my night clothes, I made my way to my bathroom. Stripping my face of all my makeup, I washed it and did my skin care, before stepping into the shower.

As I walked out, I sneaked a glance at my desk, where my phone was sitting. The screen was lit up with two notifications, neither of them being from him. A sigh left my lips as I pulled the towel from my hair and tossed it over my wardrobe before slipping on one of his shirts that he’d given me the last time we’d seen each other. It still smelled like him a little, and it brought back memories. I crawled into bed, getting under the covers, and shut my eyes letting sleep consume me.

“Yah!” I giggled, playfully pushing his shoulder. He merely smiled and wrapped his arms around me. “Is that any way to be talking to your oppa?” He muttered, brushing his nose against my cheek and smiling as he placed a peck on it. I chuckled and wrapped my arms around his middle, pushing myself up on my tiptoes and pecking his lips. “I’m gonna miss you when I go back…” I muttered, pouting when he nodded silently. “I’m gonna miss you, too, baby…so much.”

I shot up from my sleep, heart hammering against my ribcage as my mind scrambled to make sense of everything that was happening. Then I heard it, the loud ringing of my phone. Slowly turning my head, my eyes landed on the bright screen that was my phone. As my eyes focused, I felt my breath hitch. It was him. I quickly leaned over and grabbed the device from my bedside table, answering it and putting it to my ear. “Hello?” I rasped, laying back down with soft ‘hmph’.

“Hey. You called earlier?” He questioned, a loud laugh coming into the receiver after, making me cringe away. I glanced at the time on my phone. 03:34. It glared at me, making me roll my eyes. “Yeah, like almost 3 hours ago. Wanted to tell you something, but it’s whatever.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes with an annoyed sigh when all I got in response was another loud laugh and him talking to his friends. “Where are you?” I ask, voice bored and void of much emotion. “Huh? Oh, I’m out with Olltii hyung and some others. Why?” “Oh, nothing. You just sound busy is all. Maybe you should get back to them.” “No, I’m not that busy. Let’s talk more.” I nodded, but listened to him join in the conversation again. And I sat like that for 10 minutes, just listening to him laugh and have fun. All the while ignoring me on the other line.

I finally had enough, and with a heavy sigh I muttered the words that I never thought I’d say to him. My heart twisted at the words and my stomach churned as they fell from my lips. “Let’s break up.” He went silent, the only noise coming from his peers. Then, he excused himself from them, and I’d heard shuffling before it became quiet, well as quiet as it was going to get with the muffled loud music and cars in the background. “What’d you say?” His voice was soft, hesitant almost. I inhaled, my eyes shutting as I felt tears welling up, before I shakily exhaled. “I said, I think we should break up.” I heard the hitch of breath from the other line, the way he gulped. “W-what, why? W-we can’t break up…Baby, I can’t-we can’t…No.” He rambled, panic evident in his voice from the way it shook in fear. “Yes. We have to…what we’ve been doing isn’t healthy. Fighting all the time. The stress. And you’re way too busy for me.” I breathed, running a hand through my hair as I sit up. “T-Too busy for you? Baby, where’d you get that idea from?” He muttered. “Well, ever since you got signed, you’ve been getting more famous. And since then, well…we haven’t been talking much and when we do, we fight because of how busy you are…” The small groan that emits from the other line makes me frown. “Y/N-“ I cut him off quickly, “I have to go to bed. It’s late and I have school in the morning. Night.” I hang up, immediately putting my phone on ‘airplane mode’ and dropping it onto my bedside table. Pulling my cover up to my chin, I curl into myself and let the tears roll down the side of my face and onto my pillow.

And that was the last time we spoke. A week and a half ago. Not because of him, no. He was calling and texting me nonstop, up until two days ago. I should feel happy, relieved that he finally gave up on me. And even though I was the one who suggested breaking up, it still hurt to think about him with someone else.

A sigh left my lips as I watched the scenery go by in a blur. The train was quiet, filled with people going home from work and school, and others like me who were just going home for a quick weekend visit. And to be honest, I feel kind of anxious to be back in my room. The last time I was there, it was when I broke up with HongWon. Just the thought of it made my heart ache.

When the train stopped, I slowly stepped out and breathed in the air. Eyes jumping around as I made my way to the bus stop across the street. The only truly shitty thing about living away from home on weekdays and having working parents, is when they can’t pick you up when you visit, most of time, because they feel as though work is more important. Saving money for their kid to go to college is more important than spending time with them. Another tired sigh fell from my lips when the bus pulled up, it was packed, but this was the only bus that took me nearly to the exact location of my house. So, I climbed on, payed my fee, and pushed myself to the backdoor. Shoving my earbuds into my ears, I cut the volume all the way up, and played my music. I didn’t need to hear the voice of the bus driver telling which stops were which, I merely counted each stop until mine came, having to take this godforsaken thing damn near every other weekend to my parents’ house, I had to learn.

When the bus stopped at my destination, I got off with a mere nod to the driver. The bus had cleared out a lot during the journey here, and by now I’d gotten a seat. I was ready to get into the empty house and up to my bed though, I was tired and I my head hurt from all the stress. But, when I got there, I paused with shock evident on my face. Both, my moms’ and my dads’, cars were parked in the driveway. I chuckled, more like a scoff, with an eyeroll as I continued my way to the front door. Slowly, I unlocked it and stepped in, the sound of boisterous laughter falling to a deathly silence, immediately peeling off my shoes and making my way up to my room. I didn’t say anything as I walked passed the living room where both my parents sat with fallen grins and widened eyes. Of course, they probably forgot that today was my weekend home.

When I finally reached my room, I shut the door and locked it, ignoring the soft calls from my parents. I mean, it’s great that they’re back together and are happy again. But, it’d be even greater if they didn’t leave their only kid that tries to come around, feel like they don’t matter.

“Whatever.” I grumble, letting my backpack drop to the floor before peeling off my jacket. I quickly undressed, tossing everything into the dirty clothes hamper before slipping on tank top and a pair of joggers. I turned to make my way to bed, only for a scream to rip from my throat, waking the sleeping male that laid upon my mattress. Our eyes were wide, me from the shock of him being in my bed, and he from before ripped from his slumber by a dolphin screech. “Fuck-wait are you okay?” He asked in a panic, voice still raspy and heavy with sleep. “W-What the hell are you doing here?” I stuttered, brain freezing. I watched, still in confusion, as he looked down while his ears began to redden. “Um…I’m here to see you…” He muttered, getting off the bed and making his way to me. He stopped right in front of me, taking my hands in his.

“Look, Y/N, I know I fucked up…I know I hurt you-and shit…I didn’t mean to. I love you so much, and I would never purposely hurt you like that.” He muttered, voice shaky as he stared into my eyes before letting them drop to the floor. “L-Like…I really didn’t think about how you felt about not talking. I-I didn’t think about anything, or how big of a deal it may be to you. And-fuck I’m so fucking selfish.” He groaned, pulling away to run his hand through his hair. Tears had dropped onto his flushed cheeks by now, making my heart twist and I pouted, lip quivering as I listened to his shaky breaths. “I didn’t try to think about how you felt…I didn’t understand why you were so angry and hurt…until this past week and a half. I hurt so much…like I felt physical pains in my heart. And your words…they wouldn’t stop going through my head. I-I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I thought maybe writing a rap about it to get my raw feelings through to you, to let you know how much I love you. But, I couldn’t write a goddamn thing.” He huffed, falling back against a wall with a soft whimper. I’d stared at him through the heavy silence of the room before I made my way to him. Pushing myself onto my tiptoes, I grabbed the sides of his face, and kissed him. He was shocked, but quickly fell into the familiar rhythm that was us. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me closer before pulling back just slightly. “I’m sorry. For everything.” He muttered, his harsh breaths beating against my saliva moistened lips making me shiver. I merely nodded, a short ‘okay’ passing through my lips before I crashed them back onto his.

[finding--cat]

I really can’t release this to the world without paying homage to a few people who are absolutely crucial to the reason I’m able to share The Longest Sky today. 

To Marisa/@marisa-writes for being my writer-friend for 8 full years, for talking me through the trials and tribulations of writing and sharing, and for always believing in me; 

To Nadia/@justnadia for reading an earlier draft and lifting my spirits about this piece, for talking me through my reservations, and for sending me photos and quotes that reminded her of the story;

To Rachel/@ramblingrachell for becoming my instant friend and volunteering so heartily to look over this huge chunk of work, for being so enthusiastic and for warming my heart every time we speak;

To Kari/@justcloseyoureyesandseee who offered me, by far, the most comprehensive constructive criticism I’ve ever received and who continues to blow me away with her thoughtfulness and intelligence;

And to Steph/@ilivemydaydreamsinmusik, in small part for teaching me weed vocabulary and fixing all my little mistakes, and in much larger part for her unending support: the encouraging cartoons reminding me to write, the music that helped to inspire the story, offering to read it again, and her general aura of coolness and kickass-ness that I aspire to embody in my own writing someday--

Thank you all so much. I hope you know how much you’ve done for me and how grateful I am to have had you be a part of this. I dedicate this to all five of you.

There are so many more of you who spoke words of encouragement to me and/or who expressed interest in what I was working on, and I am forever grateful to you for that. I hope you enjoy the product of your kindness to me! 

Part I: The List

I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.

Emily Brontë, from ‘Wuthering Heights’

1.1 

No amount of fidgeting with the lever or pushing at the ledge with her hands will open the window. It’s only a little opening; a dated semicircular pane no bigger than the surface of her nightstand, but it’s the only way to let in fresh air. And it won’t budge.

“Just use the ceiling fan for air circulation,” Rosen suggests from the doorway. She’s armed with a box of childhood personal items curated by Mom. Ari carried the box in her second suitcase – it put her over the weight limit for the flight as it housed a stack of books from Rosen’s bookshelf, two high school yearbooks, and Polaroid pictures that once hung on a laundry line across Rosen’s bedroom wall arranged into an album. Rosen balances the heavy box on one raised knee as she wipes her sweaty brow and pushes a damp strand of chestnut hair from her face. “That’s what Jacks and I do.”

“I want to open the window,” says Ari, leaning her body weight against the pane without success. “I won’t be able to sleep without it.”

Rosen raises a brow. “Air outside’s no cooler than the air in here.”

August in West Virginia is muggy and damp, but the air conditioning in the house is on the fritz – has been since June, according to Jackson – and Ari doesn’t think she can sleep without fresh air, no matter the humidity. It would be like sleeping in a coffin. Suffocating in a stale box.

It took her an hour in the morning to fix the broken blinds in order to let the light in. She has to let the air in, too.

Rosen sighs. “We can look at it tomorrow. Jackson’s dad repainted the trim outdoors when we moved in; window’s probably painted shut now.”

Ari tries one more time to shift the pane. Without success, she slumps against the wall.

Rosen pauses, still bracing the box on her knee as she peers into the room. “When are you gonna unpack?”

Perhaps she’s confused by the suitcase on the floor that doesn’t fit in the closet or under the tiny twin bed. But the luggage is empty, all the clothes stored snugly into a small chest of drawers and personal products tucked into the drawers of the nightstand.

Ari looks up. “I already did.”

“Oh.” Rosen raises her brows. “I just thought…”

“What?”

She shrugs. “I thought you’d bring your photos, like mine. Or your textbooks – Mom says you’re trying to get into U of R for your master’s. Hell, I even thought you’d bring that ratty old lamb you used to sleep with.”

Ari blinks. For some reason, it surprises her that Mom didn’t tell Rosen about the time Ari threw Lamby away like a candy bar wrapper. It was last winter, right after Louis left and Ari moved back home to Massapequa. Mom cried when she went to take out the garbage and saw Lamby sitting amongst the refuse, his buttoned eyes staring up at her beneath a banana peel and coffee grinds.

“No,” Ari says. Her voice takes on a high and unnatural pitch in her attempt to sound sympathetic, but she has to try. Dr. Sodhi made her see how it frightened her loved ones when she acted too blasé. “I have everything I need.”

Rosen nods, though her lips purse together in a tight smile. “Okay. Just looks a little bland, that’s all.”

It does look bland, Ari notes. The room is cozy, only big enough to house a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The wall above the bed features a framed landscape photo of Sutton Lake, West Virginia, snapped in 1987 according to the print. All in all, it’s not unlike a motel room. And a motel room is not unlike Ari: impersonal and vacant, nightstand varnish peeling and wallpaper fading.  

Rosen takes her box down the hallway and wishes Ari goodnight – Ari’s first of many in Tillson City, West Virginia. She’s called her parents to let them know she arrived safely. She’s made her bed with linens Rosen brought in, fresh from the laundry. She’s unpacked her scant few belongings.

This is it. The start of something new in a different state. No parents, no friends, no former flames, no therapists. Just Ari. It’s been Just Ari for a while, but now there are no pretences. Nobody to burden or inconvenience. Nobody to cast her sad smiles or give her pity hugs.

Except for Rosen.

With a gulp of stale air, Ari smoothes her palm over her shorts, feeling the list crinkle in her pocket.

. 

Come one in the morning, Ari’s still not asleep. She tosses and turns on the unfamiliar mattress, a little bit too soft for her liking, with a sheen of sweat dusted across her upper lip. The sweltering temperature of the room isn’t lessened at all by the ceiling fan, which rocks back and forth as it spins and squeaks like it’s on its last legs.

She needs air. She needs it to breathe.

Ari cringes when the hardwood creaks on her way down the stairs, freezing in place in fear of waking Rosen and Jackson. After several seconds, when no sign of movement or change in breath comes from their bedroom down the hall, Ari steels herself and continues down the stairs in a flurry, with stealthy, cat-like steps.

She hasn’t had a chance yet to peer in the garage, though Jackson proudly told her that’s where he intends to store his Harley once he gets his license. She uses the light of her phone to guide her out the front door and across the driveway to the garage. The garage door is new and slides up easily with a quick twist of the latch, though the rest of the structure is so old it seems tilted to its side.

Her light comes in handy again while searching the garage. Rosen and Jackson use it for storage rather than parking space, as is apparent by the couch and dining room table covered in a tarp, all its chairs hanging upside down from the table’s surface. They dragged a U-Haul behind their little Honda from New York full of furniture from their apartment, but the Hawleys had even more to give when they arrived and the garage is where most of it ended up.

Ari climbs over a microwave stand and nearly knocks a floor lamp to the ground, but she makes it to the ladder leaning up against the wall. With a great deal of struggle but very little noise, Ari drags the full ladder out of the garage and onto the driveway. Then she stands it on its feet, rung by rung, and leans it against the side of the house.

She shines the light of her cell phone toward the second storey window. It’s a long way up to the sky, and probably not advised to ascend to the second floor in total darkness. But Ari has to feel the fresh air sweep past her in order to sleep. And what’s more, she can do this.

After steadying the ladder against the house and testing its sturdiness, Ari begins to climb. On the third rung, her foot slips – just for a moment – but it’s enough to encourage her to tuck her phone back into the drawstring of her pajama shorts, using only the light of the moon to guide her.

It’s so dark here. Even on Long Island, city lights brighten the streets at night, casting the sky grey instead of black. In the middle of West Virginia, Ari can look up to the sky and see stars.

Stars, motherfucker, she thinks triumphantly to herself, which nearly causes another ladder accident. With regained footing, she blinks to adjust her eyes to the darkness and continues to climb.

Mom and Dad registered Ari and Rosen for ballet classes when they were young. The instructor staged five-year-old Rosen front row, centre for the final performance, and Rosen pirouetted to perfection even with a wicker basket prop in her hands. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Ari was nestled somewhere on the outskirts of the back row, fumbling with the basket caught on her tutu and ultimately spinning herself into a heap on the floor. There was no ballet class for Ari the next year.

Needless to say, Ari’s lack of balance was never quite rectified, and standing on the tenth rung of a ladder in the darkest part of the night while using her cell phone as a flashlight with one hand and her other hand digging in her pajama pocket for an Exact-o knife puts her well outside the boundaries of her comfort zone.

Then again, Dr. Sodhi suggested more than once that venturing outside her comfort zone could offer opportunity and renewal. That’s what the temporary move to Tillson City is about, after all – separation from the comfort zone. At least, that’s what it means to Ari – to Rosen, it means a helping hand to assist with wedding preparations.

Using the Exact-o knife, Ari applies pressure to the trim, cutting around the ledge where it’s been painted over. The navy-coloured trim doesn’t help with visibility, and she may accidentally cause a few scratches and scrapes during the process, but she figures neither Rosen nor Jackson is likely to haul themselves up here anytime soon to get a close look at the damage.

Her knees shake only once, and she retracts the knife before slowly bending down to grab hold of the ladder to steady her balance. Whoever needed ballet?

With the window trim carved to her liking, Ari slides the blade of the knife underneath the bottom of the window and tries to pry it open using leverage. She’s able to wiggle it around, and with a small crack, she feels it budge. Once she slowly maneuvers the window toward her, she can slide a finger underneath and pull it open the rest of the way, though not without nearly knocking herself in the face first.

And that’s it. She did it.

She climbs down the ladder with more enthusiasm than she had when climbing up. She skips the last rung and hops to the ground, blowing upward to get the hair out of her eyes as she fixes her hands on her hips and stares up at progress. An open window: a doorway to the summer breeze and the song of the birds.

She did that.

Back in her new bedroom, Ari picks up her denim shorts, folded carefully across the top of the dresser, and digs into the front pocket. She removes a crumped piece of paper and unfolds it slowly, wary of tearing the edges. The paper flattens when it’s pressed against the wall, though its creases have been fixtures for weeks now. She uses Scotch tape to adhere it above the light switch. A central location, one she’ll be forced to look at every day.

Mom and Dad knew about the list. They thought it was advice from Dr. Sodhi that Ari was taking to heart.

But it’s not. It’s Ari’s idea. All the ideas on the list are hers. And she is the one who abides by it diligently, her own code to living, because if she doesn’t – if she strays from that self-imposed path – she could go back to Before.

Tillson City is not the place for Before. Tillson City is not the place for After, either. No, Tillson City is very specifically a place for Now.

. 

In the morning, Ari wakes to the sun shining through the small window. The room is still hot, but at least it’s not a stale, muggy heat. She could bask in it for hours if she wanted to. But after a few blinks when her vision comes into focus, she eyes the list taped to the wall.

And she gets up.

She joins Rosen in the kitchen while throwing her uncombed hair into a ponytail, the laces of her gym shoes untied. As Rosen whirls around with a smile, Ari takes a seat at the kitchen table and leans over to take care of her shoes.

“How many eggs? Two or three?” Rosen asks. “Jacks always asks for bacon and eggs on Sundays. Pancakes are on Saturdays – sorry, you missed that one yesterday.”

“Oh.” Ari straightens. “I was just going to eat something small. Maybe a banana. I’m thinking of exploring the area a bit.”

“A banana? What are you, a monkey? That’s not enough,” Rosen counters.

Ari tries to hide her smile. “You sound like Grandma.”

“Well, she’s right. At least have one pancake.”

Ari sighs.

“And I was gonna take you around today. I’ll show you all the local digs – well, the ones that matter, anyway – and we can check out a couple of vendors for the wedding. If we have time, maybe we can go to Charleston so I can stock up the freezer.”  

“Charleston? Isn’t that an hour away?”

Rosen shrugs. “Forty minutes or so. Drive’s not too bad.”

“You drive forty minutes to do your grocery shopping? There’s nowhere close by?”

“There’s the Piggly Wiggly in town, but it’s small. Kroger’s in Charleston’s much better, I think. Don’t tell Jacks, though; he’s sensitive about that kind of stuff. Wants to inject into the Tillson City economy as much as we can. But I feel like I’ve been pretty generous to the local economy in planning the wedding so far, so I don’t mind taking my business elsewhere once in a while.” Rosen finishes whisking the eggs and turns back to the stove, where a pan sizzles with meat and grease. Over her shoulder, she asks, “How many strips of bacon did you say you wanted?”

“None,” Ari replies. More hesitantly, she adds, “I don’t eat meat anymore.”

If there was a record player in the room, now would be when the music came to a grinding halt. Rosen stops stirring and freezes, only her pupils moving as they dart toward Ari. “You don’t eat meat anymore? Like, all meat?”

“All meat.”

From Rosen’s throat bursts a laugh Ari’s never heard from her before: it’s short, harsh, guttural. “Since when?”

“Since three months ago.”

“What?”

A beat passes, and Ari calmly repeats, “Since three months ago.”

“So, like… not for that long.”

Ari shrugs. “I guess not.”

“So…” Rosen struggles to reason, “it’s not like it’s a long term thing.”

“I plan for it to be,” Ari says slowly, “if it goes well. So far, I like how I feel. I’d prefer not to eat meat.”

Once chatting eagerly about her plans for the day, Rosen now regards Ari across the kitchen with an arched brow of skepticism. Then she returns her gaze to the stove, using tongs to flip strips of bacon in the pan, as she mutters, “You didn’t tell us you didn’t eat meat.”

Jackson enters the kitchen in a pair of pajama pants and a rumpled white t-shirt, stopping mid-yawn to observe the exchange between the sisters. His dark hair sticks up in almost every direction, curling well past his ears and down the back of his neck, and Ari half expects Rosen to go after him again about cutting his hair to a reasonable length for the wedding. 

But she doesn’t – her stare is fixed on Ari.

“Sorry.” Ari avoids Jackson’s gaze as she finishes tying the knot on her shoe and lets it fall from the chair to the floor. “I didn’t think it would come up too often. I thought I’d mostly be making my own food.”

“You thought I’d make meals for me and Jacks, but not think about you?” Rosen’s face scrunches in disbelief.

“No, I just… you don’t cook,” Ari admits. Rosen exhales sharply, blinking as if she misheard, and Ari quickly adds, “At least as far as I remember. I thought I’d be doing my own thing most of the time.”

“Uh… okay.” Clearly upset, Rosen gestures to the bacon and eggs heating on the stove. “You’re right, I guess I don’t cook.”

“I didn’t know,” Ari says with a shrug. Her last memory of Rosen attempting to cook in their family home in Long Island, she burned the rice, confused hoisin with soy sauce, and severely undercooked the chicken. It was a miserable stir-fry to swallow and resulted in the Pate family fighting each other for access to the house’s two bathrooms to be sick with food poisoning throughout the night. After that, Rosen declared she was no good at cooking and would rather spend her time outside of the kitchen. “If you’re cooking more now, that’s great.”

“Well, if you won’t eat what I cook, then I guess I don’t cook so much anymore.” Rosen waves a hand through the air.

“I don’t mean for you to have to change anything,” Ari stresses with a huff. “Eat what you want. I’ll fend for myself.”

“We have a tiny enough kitchen as it is without three of us trying to make two separate meals.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done, obviously,” Ari fires back. “I’m not doing this to inconvenience you, Rosen, I—”

“It’s fine.” Jackson inserts himself into the discussion with a nod to Ari. He has a hand on Rosen’s forearm before she can raise it to point a finger. “Rosie. Hey. It’ll be fine, all right? We can all eat together; Ari just won’t eat the meat. We can cook everything separate. Not a big deal.”

Rosen fixes her stare on Ari for another couple of seconds before Jackson’s touch reminds her he’s there. She glances at him and dons a soft smile of gratitude. “Fine. Not a big deal.” Before she returns to the eggs and bacon, she mumbles under her breath with arched brows, “Just wish you’d told us, that’s all.”

.

Dear Ms. Ariana Pate, We regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you admission to the Master’s program in Biology at the University of Rochester. Each year, we receive a large number of applications for this program from highly qualified candidates. Based on a composite of information including your academic performance record, comments from referees, relevant professional activities, and proposed research statements, your application, considered as a whole, was not as strong as others we received. Though we regret delivering you an unfavorable response, we wish you—

“I said, do you want me to take you around the Hawley house? Ari!”

“What? Whoa!” Ari looks up from her phone to a churning flip in her stomach as Rosen takes a quick turn around the winding West Virginia road. She grabs onto the handle, abandoning the phone in her lap.

“It’s beautiful there – they’ve got a wraparound porch with white pillars, wooden boxes of impatiens on window ledges and everything. True Southern charm. We’re actually thinking of having the rehearsal dinner there. Well, we’re about ninety percent certain, it just seems a bit much to have the wedding reception next door in the barn, too.”

Ari gulps, her head rushing as the car whips around another curve. “What?”

“Jackson,” Rosen declares, ripping her eyes from the road to spare Ari a harsh look. “His family home here in Tillson City. I said: do you want to go?”

Ari shuts her eyes. The world keeps spinning. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Do you want to see it or not?”

“Uh… if you want me to, I guess.”

At her sister’s sigh of annoyance, Ari knows Rosen’s lost her patience with her. Ari’s been distant all day, ever since that final email came in from U of R. It was her last hope – and a long shot, at that – but the deflation she feels is proof that somewhere within her, perhaps just beneath her skin and ready to escape, there still existed some form of hope. Now that it’s gone, the numbness remains.

Everyone promised Ari the lush, rolling hills of West Virginia were the most breathtaking sight her eyes would ever behold. Breathe in the clean air, they said. Open your eyes to nature, they said. You’ll feel your mind and body heal instantly. Old gaping wounds will stitch back together. Aches and pains will dissolve like morning dew in the sun. You’ll stand taller. Raise your chin higher. Feel like a real, human person again. That’s what they said.

Well, they were fucking wrong. As Ari hunches over in her seat and bile rises in her throat, she bitterly thinks that no one bothered to mention the sharp, winding roads and the constant uphill-downhill travel. Rosen’s pointed out the quaint details of Tillson City as they’ve passed by during the day: a charming red farmhouse over here, hunter green woodlands over there, yellow deer crossing signs because they graze everywhere in the winter – but Ari couldn’t follow her gestures, and now she’s on the precipice of very real vomit spilling from her throat all over Rosen’s beige, ancient Honda she lovingly calls Old Man Earl.

“You don’t have an opinion?” says Rosen, unimpressed. “If you want to stop hanging out with me so badly, might as well just say it.”

After a full day of tagging along on Rosen’s errands, passively accompanying her to pick up Jackson’s blazers from the dry cleaner’s and meet a woman from Craigslist one county over to purchase secondhand lanterns to create do-it-yourself centerpieces for the wedding, Ari feels the kind of heaviness that only follows unproductivity; an exhaustion born from listlessness. The kind that sinks into her bones and drags her to the ground.

Staring straight ahead and not sparing her sister a glance, Ari calmly replies, “I’m just tired. But if you want to go to Jackson’s parents’ place, that’s fine.”

“I don’t need to,” Rosen stresses, “I just wanted to show it to you. But if you don’t want to—”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Ari sighs, long and deep. “Let’s go. I want to see it.”

Her enthusiasm is lackluster at best, but Ari thinks she’s being conciliatory until she catches Rosen’s expression out of the corner of her eye: solemn, pained.

“Sorry,” Ari offers. The word comes out in monotone even though she drummed up all the sympathy she had.

“You know, it wasn’t Mom or Dad who suggested you come out here to stay with me and Jacks until the wedding,” Rosen says.

“I know.”

“It was me.”

Eyes fixed on the flat stretch of road ahead, Ari nods.

“When Mom called me after your accident, I was so scared. She said you were fine, probably wouldn’t even need to stay in the hospital overnight, but I couldn’t stop sobbing. Jacks had to come in and take over the call for me; I couldn’t even talk. I knew things had been bad for a while, Ari, but that night it finally hit me… I realized I could lose you.”

The road whips by, fields of yellow and green. “Rosen…”

“I know we haven’t been close lately. Not since I met Jackson and you moved in with Lou and everything just got… busy. And I didn’t realize that I missed you until that night – until the night I learned I could have lost you forever. So I called Mom first thing the next morning and I told her, when Ari’s ready, I want her to come here. I want her to get away from all that shit in the city and all the people who fucked her over and just… start over. Reset. Tillson City’s not much, but it’s a good place for that.”

Running her tongue along her front teeth, Ari nods.

“It wasn’t just about you,” Rosen’s quick to add. “I wish I could say it was. I wish I could be that selfless, but I’m not. It was about me, too. I wanted you here with me. I wanted to get to know you again. I wanted to be close with you again, like when we were kids. When we had each other’s backs and we told each other everything.” As the car slows in front of a long driveway lined with a canopy of trees, Rosen turns on her blinker and pulls off to the side of the road. She glances at Ari. “I know you’ve been lonely. And, I mean, I’m getting used to a new town, to a new way of life… it’s nice to have someone familiar with me who knows where I’m from. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” She shrugs, offering a soft smile as she pushes her side bangs behind her ear. “I think we’re supposed to be together right now. I think we need to help each other.”

Mustering a small grin, Ari reaches across the console to pat Rosen’s hand. “Okay,” she agrees. “We can try.”

Rosen’s eyes brighten, but she’s careful not to display too much emotion. She pokes her thumb in the direction of the driveway and says, “This is the Hawley place.”

Ari leans forward to examine the surroundings, though the house is covered by such thick forest it’s impossible to see beyond a bit of evergreen trim.

Sitting back in her seat, she says, “Looks pretty impressive. Let’s check it out.”

.

The Tillson City economy isn’t exactly booming. Originally a coal mining town, the population spiked following the first World War and then slowly trickled down beginning in the eighties as the country relied increasingly on alternate fuel sources. These days, a good portion of its residents – Jackson included – work outside of town.

“New businesses are pretty rare,” Rosen tells Ari as they wander downtown on a Wednesday morning, “and if one opens, it usually closes shop within six months.”

That’s why, she explains, she wants to scope out the newly established Kalene’s Garden, across the street from a business called Sherman’s that Rosen claims is Jackson’s friends’ ‘favourite piss-stained hole-in-the-wall dive bar.’

There are plenty of florists in Charleston, forty-five minutes down the road in Kanawha County, but Jackson wants the wedding arrangements to be local, both to benefit the rural economy and to eliminate stress and unpredictability. Kalene’s Garden, according to Rosen, opened only last year after the owner’s husband was dishonourably discharged from the U.S. army and fled the state, leaving her with two young kids and a mortgage.

“I figure she’ll need our money,” Rosen tells Ari with a smile, “so she’ll give me whatever I want for the wedding.”

A little bell jingles overhead as they enter the shop. If possible, it’s even more humid inside than out, but Rosen is the only one who complains. Ari’s immediately taken by the hanging plants in every corner, long vines spilling out from pots and tangling underneath, bright bouquets of lilies and bluebells crowding the counters, and the line of small potted trees leading to what Ari believes to be a greenhouse. In the air is a scent so fresh and sweet that Ari could bottle it. In fact, she finds the whole place charming and serene, even more so because they’re the shop’s only customers.

They’re directed to a small, cluttered office off to the side, where a petite woman in rounded glasses named Sherry presents them with a binder of wedding fodder. Rosen prattles off the details that Ari’s heard over group text or phone or in person a thousand times – the wedding is December sixteenth, to be held in Jackson’s family church, and the bridesmaids are wearing taupe – and she’s looking for the perfect wintry centerpieces to compliment her DIY lanterns and the perfect bridal bouquet, frosty yet soft.

When they get stuck on whether white roses are too bridal or not bridal enough is when they lose Ari completely. She removes herself from the room without either woman batting an eyelash in her direction. Then she roams the shop by herself and finds a small table of succulents that captures her attention longer than any bridal discussion ever could.

Tiny little succulents, unassuming shadows in the background, will outlive all of their floral counterparts. In the right soil, their roots flourish, widening and stretching to absorb the most amount of water in a flood. In a drought, the water storage in their roots is what helps them survive. Ari likes that about them, these smart little plants. They’re planners who take care of themselves, always stockpiled in the event of a waterless apocalypse. Dr. Sodhi kept one in her office, and Ari often stared at it when she went in there and was expected to speak. No matter how she fluctuated up and down, Dr. Sodhi’s succulent was always the same.

“Lookin’ for a friend?”

Ari gasps at the sudden voice, spinning around to face its owner. A woman in a sleeveless white blouse waters a ficus near the cash register. Her lips curl into a small smile, her tight black curls framing high cheekbones.

“Um… my sister’s in the office talking to Sherry about wedding bouquets,” Ari explains.

“What about you?”

“Just browsing.”

“Lookin’ for a friend?” the woman repeats.

Ari blinks. Does she really look that lost and lonely? Her eyes dart around the room before returning to the woman’s sharp face, and she replies tentatively, “Are you… offering?”

The woman laughs heartily, without mocking or scorn. She sets down her watering can and joins Ari at the circular table. “They are friends to us, you know,” she says, grazing her index finger across the top of thick succulent leaves. “Plants of all kinds, really, but succulents especially – they’re so versatile, so adaptable. People can rely on them. They fill a room with company even if a person lives alone.”

“Yeah,” Ari murmurs. Her eyes follow the woman’s long, nimble fingers as she spreads tiny pebbles in the soil surrounding the succulents. “So, um… how many friends do you have?”

The woman chuckles again, deep and warm in her throat. “Well, this is my shop,” she answers, “so I s’pose you could say I’m never without.”

While Rosen leaves the shop that day armed with several printouts and magazines to flip through, Ari pays $3.99 in change for a mini foxtail agave, leaves a brilliant green and opening like a flower. When she gets home, she finds it a nice, heated spot on her window ledge where it can bask in the humidity right under the sun. She spends a long time watching it there. It doesn’t grow, it doesn’t change, it doesn’t move. Maybe it feels that it’s stuck with her for good.

Either way, Ari gives it a couple of tablespoons of water to drink, gently touches its leaves, and mentally ticks off a box on the list above her light switch: Take care of a plant. 

.

A few days later, Rosen is abuzz with excitement because her wedding dress, shipped from Manhattan, is ready for its first fitting with a seamstress in Charleston. When Ari agrees to accompany her as Maid of Honour, Rosen decides they should make a day of it. She packs water bottles in the cup holders of Old Man Earl and loads snacks in her purse as if they’re on a true cross-country voyage instead of spending less time in the car than Ari has spent travelling six blocks in Midtown during rush hour.

But it’s nice that Rosen’s excited about it, and truthfully, Ari doesn’t have anything else to do. They cross a wide bridge to enter the city, and as Ari looks out the window and stares down to the water below, she feels it’s almost like re-entering New York. Almost.

She hasn’t lived in Tillson City for much more than a week, but already she feels overwhelmed by the amount of people outdoors and the number of cars on the road in Charleston. It’s a glamorous riverfront metropolis in comparison to the arid and mountainous Tillson City. It has a movie theatre and a mall and food trucks and an actual skyline – albeit a pathetic one. Adorable, not pathetic, Ari corrects herself.

The sisters wander through the Historic District, where Rosen points out the white-pillared colonial homes that seem to be the inspiration for the Hawley family home back in Tillson City. According to Rosen, she and Jackson aspire to build the same kind of home –“not until after we’ve had two kids, though, or at least not until I’m pregnant with our second”– and they ogle at the beauty of a downtown core embedded in an awning of leafy trees. Ari extends their walk several blocks, despite Rosen’s complaints, in order to log a full ten thousand steps for the day.

They drive to the only mall in town – in fact, the only mall Rosen knows of – and Ari picks out a new pair of yoga pants that are stretchy and cheap, but good enough to get the job done. Rosen finds two cushion covers in JC Penney that perfectly complement the living room set, so they both leave the mall in good spirits.

It’s as they sit on a patio along the waterfront, Ari with an ice water and Rosen with a white wine spritzer, that their pleasant outing turns sour. Ari is content to people-watch along the boardwalk, amused by the amount of people clothed in apparel from West Virginia University – “Take Me Home” and “Forever a Mountaineer” splashed across their chests and the WVU logo embroidered on their ball caps – but Rosen’s got wedding fever and has a hankering to discuss the design for the invitations.

“I don’t really get why wedding invitations are such a huge thing when I could just send out a mass email to all my guests and have their replies instantly,” Rosen muses, scrolling through samples on her phone. “But whatever, they’re pretty.”

“So if the designer gives you his final copy by Thursday and the invitations are printed by Labour Day weekend, when will you send them out?”

“Two months before the wedding,” Rosen answers robotically, having planned these details down to the minutiae. “The deadline to RSVP is two weeks from the wedding date to get the final numbers to the caterers. They’re upset that we’re pushing it that close, actually, since the kitchen at Jacks’ parents’ place is limited and they need to know in advance if they need to rent extra prep space.”

“Why not ask everyone to email you their reply rather than send it back through snail mail?”

“Well, Grandma doesn’t use email,” Rosen points out.

Ari rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure Mom and Dad would send along her RSVP.”

“This is the way wedding invitations are done.”

“Yeah, but people set up wedding websites these days to cut printing costs on RSVP cards and postage. Receiving replies by email would make it so much more efficient and environmentally friendly—”

“The invites are already pretty set in stone,” Rosen cuts her off, adding matter-of-factly, “so.”

Ari shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “All right.”

Rosen takes Ari’s recoil as invitation to lean forward, ensuring the space between them isn’t compromised by an inch. “What about my bachelorette?” she asks with a sly grin.

Eyes on a middle-aged woman lovingly feeding her partner a corn dog with all the high cholesterol fixings, Ari takes a large swig of water and then deigns Rosen a glance. “What about it?”

“What have you planned?”

“I thought it was a secret for the bride.”

“Yeah, but you eventually have to let me know the date, and what I should wear, and if I need to bring pajamas and a toothbrush…”

“Oh.” Ari takes another sip of water, knowing full well that her prolonged silence drives Rosen up the wall. “I’ll let you know, then. So far I’ve only seen that one bar in Tillson City – Sherman’s, I think? – so I don’t think it’ll be much of a surprise.”

Rosen’s spine stiffens as she straightens in her chair, brows turning downward. “Tillson City? My bachelorette is in Manhattan.”

“What?”

“I told you in April that when you plan my bachelorette, plan it in Manhattan.”

“But I thought the bachelorette party took place a week before the wedding.”

“It does.”

“And I thought, with you living here and all the guests travelling here, it might be less stressful to just… have it here.” Ari finishes slowly, the last few words quiet as the creases in Rosen’s forehead plateau into valleys.

“But all my friends are in New York…” Rosen trails.

“You said you had friends here.”

“Those are Jackson’s friends.”

“You said they were your friends, too.”

“Ari!” cries Rosen, her knee jerking into the table and causing two elderly women nearby to look over in shock. “Obviously I want the rest of my bridal party to be at my bachelorette, and the rest of my bridesmaids live in the city. And I want to go to a strip club, like I told you, and I want to do that bachelorette bingo game I sent you that just can’t do in a small town where everybody knows everybody.”

“What game?”

She huffs. “I sent it to you. It’s from Pinterest.”

“Oh.” Ari sips on her water even though her thirst is thoroughly quenched. “I haven’t had the time to look at it yet.”

“You haven’t had time.” Rosen repeats this in monotone, her voice dangerously low.

“No.”

Rosen smacks her lips together. “But you don’t do anything. How can you run out of time when literally nothing is on your schedule?”

Ari pales, but quickly gulps down the sting. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Nobody would understand! That makes no sense. Honestly, Ari, I gave you this responsibility, like, three months ago, and so far you haven’t done a single thing, which is like…”

Rosen trails off, too frustrated to continue. Ari shouldn’t prompt her, but she can’t help it. “What? It’s like what?”

When Rosen’s eyes lock with hers, they’re hardened and sad. “Do you even want to be a part of my wedding?”

The stare of the elderly ladies one table over fix on her again. Under the spotlight, all Ari can do is nibble on her lower lip.

“Everybody cares about you,” Rosen says, softer now. “I can’t have a conversation with Mom or Grandma without you coming up, even when it’s about my wedding. It’s all Ari’s acting like this or Ari’s off Zoloft again and we all brainstorm ways to help you. God, I even asked you to move out here with me! But you have to do something sometime, Ari. Sitting around waiting for something to happen to you – that’s stupid. Get a job, go on a date, plan my bachelorette! Whether it’s for yourself or for someone else, just do something.”

Ari doesn’t reply.

Dr. Sodhi once told her that in situations where she feels so misunderstood she doesn’t know where to begin, it’s sometimes best to let the yeller do the yelling and not say anything at all.

.

Ari’s alarm sounds at precisely 7:30 a.m. She spends five minutes listening to the gentle rustling in the house: footsteps up and down the stairs, the coffee grinder buzzing in the kitchen.

Must go on a hike. Hiking today. Today is about hiking.

Focused repeats of the day’s purpose help her throw off the covers and sit up. It’s easier to get out of bed this way. It’s easier than it used to be, anyway. Ari squeezes her eyes shut to forget the days she’d get out of bed at four in the afternoon, showering in just enough time before Louis got home to spare herself his groaning about how she’d done nothing since he’d left for work in the morning.

She uses a small spray bottle to spritz her succulent, just enough until its leaves are dewy and hydrated. It basks in the sun, and Ari imagines that if it had a face, that face would be smiling.

When she descends the stairs, Jackson is hopping into the car on his way to work with Rosen sending him off at the door. It’s enough time for Ari to slip around the corner unnoticed to pour a quart of water into her bottle from a pitcher in the fridge. She refills the pitcher with water from the faucet and is halfway through her water bottle when Rosen enters in her fluffy bathrobe, wisps of hair sticking out of her messy ponytail.

“How do you not get sick chugging that much water on an empty stomach?” she asks, upper lip curling in revulsion.

“It kickstarts my system,” Ari replies after a loud gulp. She stands with a hand on her hip. “Flushes out toxins. Improves blood flow to my brain, keeps me in a good mood.”

Standing stock still, Rosen uncurls her lip but says with a shrug, “Whatever.”

“You should try it.”

“Not interested.” She pointedly moves across the kitchen to the hot pot of coffee left for her by Jackson. “Two cups of Joe is what mama needs.”

Ari doesn’t bother arguing. She finishes the rest of her water bottle while Rosen pours herself a steaming mug of coffee, and then she turns her attention to the weather. It’s a beautiful summer day, eighty degrees and clear. Ari’s wandered the neighbourhood and figured out the roads close to home, but she hasn’t tried any of the woodland trails yet. She aches to be sheltered by a rooftop of trees, golden rays poking through the leaves.

Plenty of sunlight. That’s an item on her list, and she should start paying more attention to it while the August sun is still here.

“Do you want to hike with me?” she asks Rosen. “I think I’m gonna go through the forest at the end of the road. Jackson said it’s a nice walk.”

“Um…” Rosen trails, focused on pouring the milk, “what time?”

“Ten minutes? Fifteen?” Ari suggests.

“Oh. Then no.”

Ari’s shoulders slump. “We could go later this morning if you want.”

“I have those paint samples from Benjamin Moore to try on the bedroom walls,” Rosen replies with a cavalier shrug.

“This afternoon, then?”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to find a swatch that I like and then go back to the store to get them to mix it.” She looks to Ari with a gasp, stumbling upon a great idea. “You should come!”

“To Madison?”

“If they have the paint colour I want. Wanna come?”

Ari definitely didn’t coax herself out of bed this morning to sample paint chips. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What do you mean? What else are you doing?”

“Hiking.”

“You said you were gonna do that now.”

“I was trying to find a time we could go together!” Ari speaks through a laugh, though her lips don’t curve into a smile. “Sorry – backing up – are you interested in a hike or not?”

“Not,” Rosen says simply.

“Fine. That’s all you had to say.” Ari refills her water bottle from the pitcher in the fridge, adding on her way out, “See you later, then.”

.

Ari packs a couple of snacks for her hike and stays outdoors until early afternoon, when her quads ache in the most accomplished way from the uneven terrain on the hills. After she showers, Rosen has only just begun to swatch paint samples on the walls of the bedroom she shares with Jackson, so Ari lets herself out onto the back patio, barefoot, and finds herself dialling home. Nobody picks up.

It’s a couple of minutes before her cell rings, Home alight on the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Ari, hi,” gushes Ana Pate. “I heard the phone ring but I was outside watering the plants. I forgot how long it takes!”

“That’s because I always do it for you.”

“I know. You do my weeding, too. I’m missing that.”

“That’s what you miss, huh?” Ari says dryly.

Ana chuckles. “Of course not. Miss everything about you. How are things going? Rosen says you’re developing a routine.”

“Yeah.” Ari stretches her legs in the sun and tries to ignore the icky feeling that Rosen’s been speaking to their mother about Ari’s schedule. “I’ve been doing okay. Keeping consistent, I guess. Which is good – for me, at least.”

“For anybody,” Ana insists. Ari’s not quite so sure.

“How are you and Dad?”

“Oh, fine. He’s out right now picking up a few things for dinner. I’m sure that man will come back with a steak even though I told him no red meat until the wedding. Do you know how much it costs?”

“Red meat or the wedding?”

“Both. We’re on a diet, both of us. At least until the cheque’s cleared.”

“Hmm, yeah. It’s all about Rosen’s wedding.” Ari cringes, instantly aware that her attempt to sound lighthearted has miserably failed.

“Well, it is exciting. And just remember: she’ll be excited for you, too, when the time comes.”

Ari clears her throat. She has to hear enough about the fucking wedding now that she’s living with Rosen full time.

“So, um… has any mail come for me?”

“Mail? You mean like a letter?”

“Yeah. Maybe yesterday or late last week?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe a credit card bill. Why?”

“Nothing,” Ari says quickly. To Ana’s expectant silence, she caves. “I was hoping to hear back from Fordham about that continuing education course.”

“Oh, honey. This late in the summer?”

“Yeah.” Ari casts her eyes down. “It was a long shot, I guess.”

“Well…” Ana sighs – a sigh Ari knows far too well. A sigh of sympathy, of sadness, of surrender. And Mom only uses it with her. “It’s probably for the best, don’t you think? You don’t want to be doing too much too soon. You should rest.”

“I can’t rest, Mom,” Ari says. “I can’t just do nothing anymore. I need to be busy; I need to keep my mind active.”

“You need to heal,” Ana says firmly. “You’ve been through a lot. Your mind needs a break.”

“I need to have purpose,” Ari insists. “Otherwise, I—I’ll sink into that dark place again.”

Another sigh. Then Ana says, “Well, I’m sure Rosen will keep you busy the next couple of months with the wedding. That should help.”

Ari rolls her eyes. “You might be shocked to learn that devoting my life to her wedding doesn’t exactly give me a lot of purpose.”

“Oh, Ari!” Ana snaps. “You have purpose, and you know that. That’s what you and Dr. Sodhi spent so long talking about. I’m sorry you didn’t get into a school this term, but I have to be honest, I really don’t think that’s what you should be focusing on right now. I don’t want you to get bogged down in an intensive program that you’re not as interested in as you thought you might be. If you go back to school, it should be because you have something in particular you want to study, not because you want to keep yourself busy. That’s running from your problems, honey. You know better than that.”

After a long pause, Ari gulps. “That’s not what you said to Rosen when she got into NYU Law.”

“Well, those were different circumstances. Rosen had a clear path for her future.”

“Was dropping out before the end of first term part of her clear path?”

“Don’t do that, Ari. Don’t be unfair. She followed her heart. Now she and Jackson are about to get married, so I think she’s happy with her decision.”

Ari says nothing.

“You know, you are doing something meaningful,” Ana adds softly. “You’re there for your little sister when she really needs you. She’s juggling planning a wedding and becoming a homeowner in a strange new town – she’s just as overwhelmed as you are.”

At this, Ari shuts down. The ‘just as [insert adjective here] as you are’ measure of relatability is, in fact, the opposite of relatable.

But it does remind her why she’s here, six hundred miles from home and cut off from everyone she’s ever known other than immediate family. It’s not just to get a grip on herself. It’s not just to help Rosen prepare for the wedding. It’s to give her parents a break. To let them pretend, for a few months, that their daughters are both happy, healthy, functioning adults who are making progress and being independent in the world.

The truth is that they only have one of those daughters, and she’s not Ari.

.

In the afternoon, Ari declines Rosen’s second invitation to join her in Madison to pick up a gallon of Palm Desert paint, which is “richer than Sepia but not as dark as Café Royal”, in favour of returning to the Tillson City downtown core. She takes Jackson’s bicycle, which is a little rickety and not adjusted to her height, but it carries her safely to town. She parks outside of Kalene’s Garden, where there is not a bike rack in sight. Ari  hopes against all New York City hope the bike has little chance of being stolen.

Inside, she runs across the same woman who helped Rosen with her wedding flowers.

“I remember you,” says the woman whose eyes peer over thick bifocals. “You were here for the Hawley wedding.”

“I remember you, too,” Ari says. “You’re Sherry.”

“That’s right.” The woman holds out her hand to shake over the cash register. “And what’s your name again, dear?”

“I’m Ari.”

Sherry pauses with a slight frown. “Ari? I remember Jackson Hawley’s fiancée having a floral sort of name…”

When the ladies in the Massapequa hair salon used to mix them up, Ari used to joke that she hoped they didn’t give her Rosen’s ridiculously-shaped bangs. Lightheartedness doesn’t come easily anymore, so she replies evenly, “That’s my sister, Rosen.”

“Oh, of course. Rosen! What a pretty name.”

Ari blinks. “Yeah.”

“Well, what can I do for you, dear?”

Ari slips her backpack off of her shoulders and begins to unzip it. “Actually, I was wondering if Kalene is here? I wanted to speak with her if possible. It won’t take long.”

“I’m sure she can spare a bit of time,” Sherry says with a smile. She leans over the register again to point down the aisle. “She’s just in the office. She won’t mind if you give a knock on the door.”

Ari thanks her, but still she approaches the office on light feet, wary of disturbing the peace. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want Kalene to think she’s entitled or overbearing. She should just go home. She should just save everyone the grief.

She knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Knuckles white, Ari pushes open the door and sticks her head inside. When she spies Kalene at the desk, her hair tamed in a low bun and her ruffled military green blouse complimenting her skintone, she pastes a smile on her face. Even when she spots a toddler seated on the floor with building blocks surrounding him, Ari can’t hide her smile.

Kalene holds up her head, her impossibly long neck elegant and straight. “You’re back,” she says warmly.

“Yeah—yes,” Ari stammers. She clutches the papers in her hand, certainly creasing them but too nervous to care. “I can come back, though, if this is a bad time—”

“Come on in. Take a seat.”

Ari obeys, lightly closing the door behind her. The office is humid, a little box of a room stuffed with binders and papers, a computer, and potted plants on every surface: the desk, the bookshelf, the window ledge. There’s just enough room on the floor for the toddler – a little boy, no more than a year old – and his small lunchbox full of toys.

“This is Mekhi,” she says, gesturing to the boy, “my youngest.” She reaches out to pet the back of his head. “Sometimes he comes with me to work when his auntie falls through on babysitting – don’t you, Mekhi? Hmm?”

He stares up at his mother adoringly, wooden block in his mouth and molten brown eyes blown wide.

“He’s adorable,” Ari says with a laugh, “and very good at building blocks.”

“The civil engineer of the family,” Kalene jokes. “So,” she continues, closing the binder in front of her, “what brings you back?”

Ari sucks in a breath, and just as promptly exhales. “I just—um,” she starts, glancing down at the resume in her hands, “I have a—I wanted to ask if you…”

She shakes her head, inwardly cringing. With another short breath, she looks up.

“I was looking for a friend,” she blurts out, “the other day, when you asked. I’m looking for a lot of things, I think.”

She pauses, wincing at Kalene’s possible reaction, but the woman is straight-faced, listening intently, and scrutinizing Ari with a thoughtful expression.

So she goes on, “I make myself these roadmaps—lists, really—to help me get through each day, but they don’t mark with an X what I’m searching for, so I’m really going on nothing. I realize this is really not a convincing preamble, but I just wanted to tell you that… I really like it here. In your shop. It makes me feel, um… warm? Not physically, but, like, inside of me. I feel warm when I’m here, and I feel in good company, and… that means something to me.” She hesitates. Then, swallowing her fears, she finishes, “I know what it’s like to not feel anything at all, so when I do feel something – anything – I latch onto it. I don’t want to forget it. And, um… I want to work here. Volunteer, even. If you’ll let me, even for just a few hours every week. I just want to spend time, if that’s okay.”

When Ari takes a breath, Kalene is smiling again. Maybe it’s not the shop, but Kalene herself who emanates warmth.

That’s a new thought. Ari hasn’t felt warmth from another human since Louis, and that was long, long ago. It was the sort of warmth that dulled over time until one day, she convinced herself she’d imagined it was ever there in the first place.

“What’s your name?” Kalene asks.

“Oh. Sorry.” Ari thrusts her resume into Kalene’s hands. “I’m Ari Pate. Rosen’s sister. She’s marrying Jackson Hawley, if that means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Kalene confirms. With a quick look at the very top of Ari’s resume, Kalene promptly hands it back to her. Ari’s heart sinks. “Ariana,” she reads.

“That’s my full name, yes. Um, I—I have a degree in Molecular Biology with a minor in Environmental Science, and I know that seems heavy, but I think if you look at my experience, you’ll agree that I—”

Kalene holds up her hand, effectively sealing Ari’s lips together. “Would you like to come back tomorrow, Ariana?”

“For an interview?” Once again, Ari offers her resume.

Kalene declines. “For a training session. An orientation, let’s call it.”

Ari’s breath comes out in a gust. The blood drains from her head in a moment of surrealism. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t want to see my resume?”

“If you want me to look at it, then I will. But we’re a small shop, as you can see, and this is our passion. So it bodes well, to me, that it gives you a good feeling to be here. Those are the people I want to work with – not the ones with the most impressive resumes. At the end of the day, all those words on paper mean nothing. It’s what you put forth in action that carries weight.”

Ari nods slowly, more in awe of this beautiful woman than ever. Is she going fucking crazy, or was that the smartest thing anyone’s ever said to her?

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Count on it,” says Ari, rising to her feet. She nudges a few stray blocks at Mekhi with the tip of her sole. He reaches for one particular block and looks up at Ari with a sloppy, saliva-coated grin.

“Ten o’clock,” says Kalene, opening her binder as Ari takes her leave. “We’ll put you to work.”

.

Ari volunteers at Kalene’s on Wednesday and Thursday, five hours each day. Her shoulder-length hair curls and frizzes in the humid shop, and for the first time, that’s the biggest of her concerns. Kalene shows her how to water the irises in the plant basket, and in return, Ari tells Kalene what she knows about the structural biology of roses.

By Thursday night, though her thighs hurt from crouching to tend to the plants, Ari feels satisfied to near delirium. She’s come home with two new succulents: a beautiful kiwi aeonium with deep pink, outlined leaves, and one called a jelly bean, whose leaves look like just that. She arranges them next to the foxtail on her window and admires them with pride. Pride – a swell in her chest she’s not felt since that A in organic chemistry in junior year, all those years ago.

When she finally leaves her room to steep a mug of sleepytime tea – for a better, more peaceful sleep, it promises – voices filter up the stairs. She descends slowly, wary of disturbing Rosen and Jackson in the living room but unable to boil water in the kitchen without passing them.

“He’s single right now; he’s probably looking for someone,” Rosen says.

“I think you’re confused. Luke doesn’t look for someone, he finds someone,” Jackson chuckles.

“So maybe he could find her.”

“It’s not a good match, Rosie.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. He’s a nice guy, he’s a longtime friend of yours, and I don’t see why it would be crazy to introduce him to Ari.”

Ari’s ears burn at the sound of her name. On high alert, she speeds her pace to the bottom of the stairs. Cuddled on the couch, Jackson and Rosen meet her eyes.

“Hey!” Rosen exclaims, using a hand on Jackson’s thigh to stabilize herself as she moves to the edge of the couch. “Great news: I ran into Jacks’ friend, Luke, in town and told him my sister was staying with me for a while. We chatted about you a bit. He seemed really interested.”

Blankly, Ari says, “Interested in what?”

“In you, of course. We thought it would be fun if you two met.”

Ari blinks. “What?”

“Tomorrow night. At Sherman’s – you know, that little dive bar downtown.”

“It’s not a dive bar,” Jackson interjects in offense.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a local establishment.”

“It’s a dive bar.”

“No, it’s a neighbourhood pub,” he argues. “The owners keep it clean, and yeah, sometimes it can get rowdy in there, but in general folks go there for a drink after the game, to listen to some live music, to socialize.”

“I still think it’s a dive bar,” Rosen says with a shrug.

Jackson rubs a palm over his forehead. “People ‘round here don’t think of it that way, so you best watch how you speak of it in front of them.” Redirecting his attention to Ari, he adds, “It’s charming, don’t worry. It’s a lot of fun there.”

“I didn’t say it’s not fun, Jackson,” Rosen snaps. “I know it’s fun; I always have fun there.”

“You mean the one time you came with me?” he deadpans.

Rosen huffs in annoyance and promptly looks away from him, maintaining eye contact with Ari. “Luke’s really great,” she gushes. “He’s been working full-time at the DMV since high school and word has it he’s got a lot saved up. He wants to buy a plot of land and fix up a house right here in town to be close to family and friends. Oh, and he was on the football team in high school with Jacks. He’s really built.”

Jackson stares expressionlessly at the back of Rosen’s head.

Ari looks from Rosen to Jackson and back to Rosen again. Rosen might very well be holding her breath until Ari gives a definitive answer, so after prolonging the torture another few seconds, Ari slowly says, “He sounds… great.”

With a triumphant exhale, Rosen shoulders slump with a satisfied smile. She softens, tipping her head to the side in that telltale display of sympathy Ari knows far too well. “It might be good for you. You and Louis broke up, like, a year ago—”

“Six months ago.”

“—and I’m sure you’ve been lonely. I mean, I know you have, and that’s why you’re here. And you’re trying all this new stuff lately, like yoga and vegetarianism and whatever, so why not try a blind date? Honest, I think you’ll have fun.”

Ari groans internally. It’s times like these when having no one who cared for her would be easier to manage – there would be no one to disappoint, no one to have to humour. Even though Rosen’s arrangement sounds like absolute misery, Ari knows she’ll still end up doing it. For Rosen. And that’s a fucking kicker.

“Can’t he come here instead?” Ari asks. “That way there’s less pressure, especially if you guys are here to help if the conversation gets slow.”

Rosen scrunches her nose, repulsed. “You don’t invite someone to your house for a blind date,” she says, as if common blind date etiquette is written in stone. “How is that less pressure? You meet in a social setting so if they turn out to be a murderer, everyone hears your screams.”

“That is comforting,” Ari says dryly.

“Okay. Rosie, stop,” Jackson says, nudging Rosen in the back. He leans forward to take control of the conversation. “Luke’s a good guy. He’s not a murderer, for Christ’s sake. He’s the one who suggested meeting at Sherman’s, so it’s probably best to follow through with that. Besides, Rosie and I are out tomorrow night – it’s Sawyer’s birthday in Charleston.”

Rosen sags with the event reminder, seemingly not too thrilled to attend the birthday celebration of Jackson’s older brother, who lives and works as a corporate lawyer in Charleston.

“Oh!” Rosen cries. “But we can drop you off on our way there!”

It’s not quite the consolation prize Ari hoped for. Her eyes shake as she fights not to let them roll. “Great.”

“So you’ll go?”

Rosen’s lips form a pleading pout. Jackson sighs in defeat. As for Ari, well, she was doomed from the moment she walked down the stairs.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Photo Credits: Anton Darius, Jesse Summers

[sherlockmonkeesstartrek]

Not A Bond Girl

CHAPTER 6

“There’s not much I can do about that now. She needs protection. I need her out of here today.”

“Bond, you included the girl. She’s nothing to do with the mission. We can’t send a bloody helicopter just because you bedded some woman and she got caught up. We need you on task, 007, not running around with the locals.”

“M…”

“Back to work.”

An electronic beep cut out an unfamiliar voice, while James’ remained in the room, loud as he sighed. My eyelids fluttered open to see the agent sat, cross-legged on the floor in front of a chunky computer shaped similar to a briefcase. ‘The Agent.’ Yes, funnily enough, that does fit with his demeanour. It suits him quite nicely, even when he’s sitting like a child on the floor. Not that I particularly like thinking of James as a spy. It irritates me. It reminds me that he lied, that he put me in harm’s way.

I sit up and feel my top half become exposed. In a hurry, I go to grab whatever had just fallen off me and realise I’ve been tucked into the bed. A pillow has been placed under my head, the duvet wrapped up to my hips now. Up to my chest, I’m still covered by a towel. I shoot a look at James. The idea that he was trying to be nice, getting me all snug in bed, all warm, annoys me. I narrow my eyes at him, even though he can’t see. It makes me feel better.

“There’s some clothes on the floor in a bag, if you want to get dressed.” James says. I’m not sure he’s talking to me, since he wasn’t before, but I check the floor all the same. A posh looking white bag sits waiting. I peer into it before grabbing it, in case it’s not actually mine. There is some underwear lain on the top of some folded garments. I assume it is for me.

But I don’t want to get changed right now. He can see me, I’m guessing, since he knew I was up. I doubt he was sitting on the floor, every ten minutes saying, ‘you can get dressed’ in case I’m awake, though I do like that image. How stupid he would look, instead of suave and cool.  

I pull up the duvet to my neck and push the pillows against the headboard so I can sit up comfortably. I then look back down at James. He’s back in a full suit. I can’t tell if the trousers and shirt are the same as before, but he has a tie on, a new pair of shined black shoes and another blazer.

“So, what are we going to do?” I inquire. He peers over his shoulder, though I don’t think he’s looking at me. He looks back at his computer. Hundreds of green windows pop up, all with translucent writing in lines on them, some with pictures of people I’ve never seen.

“I’m trying to get you out of the country, to one of our branches. Just until this is all over.” He replies without properly regarding me.

“So, I am in danger now.” I mumble to myself. I fiddle idly with the cover of the duvet. I’m not expecting James to reply, but he does. He turns around, resting back on his knees.

“I know you might be angry, but this isn’t the time.” He says, matter-of-factly, before adding, “And I thought you’d be a little more helpful.”

“Helpful!” My voice is louder than expected, “I don’t know if you have any idea, but I’m not used to being shot at, and I’ve just be put in danger by a lying bastard.”

James nods, his expression unchanged, “Yes, you have. I didn’t mean to include you, but I have. And I lied to you, but that’s my job. I’m trying to make sure you’re safe now. Hate me. It’s probably best, so you can forget about me.”

I want to really bad. I turn around in bed and try to fall back to sleep. When that doesn’t work, I roll out of bed and dress, hopefully out of James’ sight, by crouching beside the mattress. Oh, it irritates me even more when I put on the clothes he got me, because he got them for me and because they’re all the right size, underwear and all. On top, he bought a pair of casual jeans and a swoop-neck shirt, short-sleeved, purple. I remember letting on that purple was my favourite colour. James said that it went well with my hair.

Playing to favourites, is he now? It’s not going to win me over. I stand up, all dressed in his bloody clothes and I sit on the bed. I’ve nothing to do.

I look over at him again. He’s playing on his computer, typing away, looking important. Suddenly, a trilling sound echoes through its speakers. A phone sign comes up on his screen. He taps it and it opens a window with a man’s face on it. He has curly black hair, a tired look, but a youthful face. He can hardly be older than mid-twenties. He wears a pair of glasses that make him look a little like a geek. A caption beneath his face reads ‘Incoming: CODENAME_Q’

“Bond, I’ve already had orders from M not to assist you.” The man says with a posh English accent. I peer over James’ shoulders.

“Q, how nice to talk to you again. I’m going to need your help, but it’s not for the mission.” James replies with a forced smile on his lips.

“Aren’t you listening?” Q questions, “I said M will not let me help you. Get someone else to do your dirty work. It’s not even my job, you do realise that?”

“It’s for a girl.” James states. Q’s eyebrows rise, unconvinced.

“I don’t care if it’s for the Queen. I’m under orders.”

“She’s in danger.” It’s as though James hasn’t heard a word this man has says. He continues speaking as though no one has interrupted.

“No, Bond, her Majesty is probably safely sleeping in her rooms in Buckingham Palace.” Q quips. I laugh, loud enough for him to hear. His eyes dart straight at me. “Is that her?” He asks.

“Yes.” Bond says, turning around to look at me. I roll my eyes.

“Yes, I am ‘her.’ Who are you?” I ask Q. The boy seems all shy. He straightens his tie nervously, sitting straight as though I can see more than his chest upwards.

“Erm… I’m not at liberty to say.”

“No, he’s not.” James affirms. I ignore him, instead getting off the bed and sitting by his side, staring straight at the small embedded camera in the top of the computer.

“I know that he’s an agent.” I admit, “But I’d much rather know who you are.” I know I’m making him feel more uncomfortable. He’s cute. It’s pretty fun. He shuffles in his seat, readjusting his glasses as he thinks through what he should tell me.

“I’m… um… the Quartermaster. I supply Bond with…” His gaze shoots to the side. To James. He tries to make it subtle. Nothing about this boy is subtle, “…things.” He ambiguously finishes.

“Ignore him.” I demand, playfully pushing James onto his side. The agent falls onto his elbow, a small smile etching onto his lips. I find one on mine too, a grin.

Q tries to remain professional, closing his hanging jaw and swallowing.

“I say you’re doing the right thing, by not helping him.” I continue.

“R-Really.” Q stammers. I nod encouragingly.

“Yes. I mean, he’s the one who put me in the firing line. I’m sure that’s going against some kind of rule.” My voice then turns oddly serious. I can’t control it. The smile I almost managed completely subsides. “And… well I don’t need much help. I don’t really matter.”

My gaze has fallen away from Q. I don’t really feel like flirting any more. I remembered how angry I was just a minute ago and why. If anything, though, I’d say I’m scared.

I can’t say anything to them. I can’t even look at either man. Luckily, Q breaks the silence that, thank god, has yet to have become awkward, telling James he wants to speak on the phone. When I peer up again, the video of him has closed with a caption left in its wake, ‘transferred to smart phone.’ I watch, simply because I have nothing else to do and my thoughts are beginning to make me feel sick, as James pulls up the keyboard of the computer, revealing a compartment beneath it. It has a grey, foam-like substance at the base with bits hollowed out for pieces of equipment. He takes out a sleek looking phone and holds it to his ear. Seemingly without pressing anything, he begins talking as he gets up and walks out of the room. I twist myself around to watch him go out. Perhaps he’s finally got an idea of what he’s done to me. Perhaps Q got it from our brief conversation.

The clock ticks away again, loud enough for me to hear. Feeling silly on the floor, I decide to go back to the bed. There’s really nothing I can do at the moment. I feel as though my existence, right now, is based upon waiting for people. I hate that. I’ve had to depend on no one since I left home. I’ve always done exactly what I wanted and lived to please myself. That’s been my problem with relationships. I’m a girl of self-love, seeing men for my own pleasure, seeing them more times only if they’re any good.

Now I’m finding myself wondering when someone will tell me what to do next. It’s left me very uncomfortable in my low moments. I check the time, although that gives me no instruction. There is no routine to any of this, no time limits or deadlines. Simply waiting. I grow restless the more I sit. James doesn’t come back for what feels like ages. I remember a similar sensation of relief as when he resurfaced after it looked like he drowned, only perhaps not as intense this time around. The sight of him still irritates me, but I feel bound to him.

He walks in intently, his eyes firmly on his computer, with barely a glance at me. No doubt he wonders if I’ve been messing around with his work. Though I haven’t, it makes me nervous to think he may not trust me. I’m not sure whether I should watch him or ignore him. Which would make me look less guilty? I opt for a mixture of both, adding in a look of confusion that I doubt he actually sees. He pulls down the keyboard of his computer and taps a few things on the trackpad. Everything suddenly closes, including the top of the computer, turning it back into a suitcase. Once he’s done, he stands up and twirls on his heels to face me.

“We’ve got a flight in the morning.” He informs me. I don’t look at him. I do nod, just to let him know I’ve heard. I am facing slightly away from him and make myself look busy by folding the discarded towel I left on the floor. There’s a moment of silence, and not like before, because before, there was the faint sound of James tapping away at his computer. This time, I can’t even hear any footfalls on the carpet, or rustling of his clothes. I guess he’s standing there, looking at me.

When he speaks again, his voice consumes the silence with its thick sound. He almost sounds annoyed, which he has no reason to be, by my standards.

“Look, I could tell you loads about my mission, but MI6 might not be all to impressed with that. And… frankly, I think you’d feel like you were in worst danger.”

“So, I’m not?” I shoot back. I see him, in my peripheral vision, shake his head.

“Not any more than you were subjected to today.” His voice becomes softer, a lot less strict and automated, “And I promise you this,” he insists, “I never meant for you to get involved. Technically, you’re not, but I can’t risk anything. That’s why I want you out of here, and I’ll see to it that you get away safely. And back safely.”

“Do you think that’s going to make me feel better?” I snap. Again, James shakes his head.

“I have no interest in making you feel better. I want you safe. Ok?”

Something about his tone makes me whimper a parrot of ‘ok’ back. It was something like a coldness, mixed with care. Of course, my reply was a little more venom filled, but he doesn’t seem to care. That’s what bothers me. It hasn’t before. When other men didn’t care about my feelings, whether I actually had them or not, I liked it. I thought it was admirable, for the kinds of relationships I wanted with them. But when James does it, it makes me curious. I peer at him. He’s staring at his lap.

[lisabland93]

Our Wonderful Life of 25 Years

Today we celebrate 25 years of marriage!

On this day, 25 years ago, we eloped to Austin, Texas, getting married at 8:00 am. We had been engaged for 7 months, had gone through the Catholic Church for our marriage preparation (Which takes 6 months), and were ready to get married and start our lives together.  We didn’t want to wait any longer. 

I met Steve Bland in November of 1992 while out with a friend at a Club called Phase II. My friend was meeting her guy friend who was friends with Steve.  I didn’t actually talk to Steve till we were all walking out to our cars.  I asked him his name. When he told me, I said, “Steve Bland?? Do you know Daniel Bland?” He said, “That’s my brother.” Oh my goodness! I have known Daniel all through high school. He dated a friend of mine and we would all get together and hang out.  Upon discussing this with Steve, I recall attending a CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) dance at St. Mary’s School. My friends and I running out to a truck excited to see Daniel show up and open the passenger door to let him out. Steve was actually driving the truck bringing Daniel to the dance. Who knew? We were so close to meeting at that time but God wasn’t ready. We had to both grow before it was time. Upon getting to know him, the things that impressed me was his starched Wrangler jeans (that was the thing back then) and his Ford Diesel Truck. At 23 years old, to be driving a Diesel, I knew he was a hard working man and it being a Ford.....Oh, yea, I was a Ford girl. I had dated many a bum who couldn’t keep a job and drove Chevy’s. YUCK! Lol

When I met Steve, I was a single mom of a 4 year old daughter, Amber. I had made some choices that weren’t the best but I did gain a beautiful daughter and a lot of responsibility and a lot of growth. I had already completed college as a single mom, earning my Court Reporting degree and was working toward passing my state boards. Steve never wanted to have children and didn’t want to date anyone with children. I guess God had a different plan. Steve was a Shop Manager with a Diesel Mechanic’s degree working at Atterbery Truck Sales in Beaumont and had his own apartment. I was working at Nell McCallum Court Reporting firm in Beaumont and still living at home. 

We remained friends and grew to really like each other. In February, we were becoming very attached to each other. He had a planned Valentines’ date with a girl to a club in Lake Charles called Cowboy’s. He went on the date and then spent the night with his brother. The next morning I called him and casually asked him how his date went. He said it didn’t go well. I was super excited and glad it didn’t go well. He then asked me if I’d like to go to town with him. He needed to run to HiLo (a auto parts store) in Orange. I said sure. He came and picked me up and we ran his errand. When we got to the store, he said he needed to just run in and reached in the back seat of his truck and handed me a container of candy and a Valentines’ card. That was when we actually started dating. Amber turned 5 in March and Steve came to her birthday party with a gift just for her. Through our dating we would travel to Austin nearly every weekend spending time with friends and enjoying the city. It became our favorite place. On April 16, 1993, while in Austin jet skiing in Devils’ Cove, Steve pulled over the Jet Ski and wanted to tie it off and asked me to get the tie rope out of the container in the bike. When I opened the container, there was a ring box sitting there. I picked it up and looked at him and he was on one knee on a rock in about 3” of water asking me to marry him. Of course I said YES! After we got engaged, Steve knew I dreamed of being a stay-at-home mom. He asked me to quit my job to stay home and give him all of my bills. He would then give up his apartment and sleep on my parents’ couch until we were married. He did! The beginning of making my dreams come true! 

Steve’s dad was hired to tear a house down on East Circuit St. in Beaumont but upon walking through it saw its potential and told Steve to come look at it. We bought it for $1 and had it moved from Beaumont to Orangefield to some land that his parent’s let us use. The house was built in 1941 and was a little rough but we worked on it and made it our own.  When we married, we couldn’t live in it yet. So, my in-laws loaned us their 23’ motor home to live in and we parked it next to the house.  We worked hard to get the house live able. By the summertime, we had one bedroom ready and moved Amber into it and we slept in the dining room with NO AIR CONDITION!! That was rough!! Steve and I recall sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the living room in front of the windows where we had the attic fan sitting. He said, “One day you will be laughing about this.” I said, “I don’t think so.”

Six months after we married, I received a call from Amber’s real father who was now paying child support for the past 8 months. He wanted to meet her and spend time with her and take her places. Although I was happy he was finally taking responsibility as a father, I was scared to death as well. When Steve came home from work and I told him my fears, he told me it was all a ploy and to call my attorney tomorrow and have him ask her father to relinquish his rights then he would adopt her. The very next morning, I did just that. By the afternoon, her father signed his rights to me. Steve then began the adoption of Amber as his own. Another dream come true!!

Two years into our marriage, we got pregnant for Hanna. I will never forget the morning my pregnancy test was positive. I very excitedly told Steve that we were pregnant. He said, “Congratulations!” Hanna was born September 20, 1996. Two years later, we got pregnant for Payton. When I was pregnant, we moved to a new house on Holly St. Payton was born June 15, 1999. We also started Steve’s Services by purchasing my father-in-law’s grapple truck and I started homeschooling that year as well.  

At this time, Steve informed me that we had had our last child. He didn’t feel we needed to have anymore.  My dream was to always have 4, 2 boys and 2 girls. So, after many tears, I began many Rosaries. In November of 1999, Steve was invited to attend a retreat called Cursillo in Prairie Ronde, LA. He said he was giving his attendance to me as an anniversary gift because it was on our anniversary weekend. I had already attended one in Houston when I was 20. So, I kind of knew what they were like and was very excited for him to go. When he returned from that retreat, our life had been changed. God was always the center of our marriage but now we had given our lives totally to God including our procreation. We would let God tell us how many children He wanted us to have. The night he returned will forever be in my memory.  He glowed with the Holy Spirit and had no worry lines on his forehead. We stayed up almost the entire night talking. It was amazing!!  And another dream come true!

After the retreat, we then had our “Cursillo” babies. Emily was born on August 28, 2001. Aaron was born on June 5, 2004. We had 2 miscarriages after Aaron was born. So, two babies are in Heaven waiting for us. Then we had Mary on January 12, 2008. Mary was a difficult delivery and although, we wanted to have more children after Mary. God placed it on our hearts that she was to be the last one.  We didn’t try to have another child but we didn’t try not to have another child. We let God decide what He wanted for our future. When Aaron was 4 months old, we began building a new house back on Sand Bar Road. I designed the 3200 sq ft home which is currently where we live on 27 acres of land.  This is our dream home for sure!

God has truly blessed us with a great life, a great marriage, and wonderful children and grandchildren. Two weekends ago we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with the wedding we never had with our children as our wedding party. We couldn’t have asked for a better day!! When we left for the reception that day, we both agreed that God has given us a good life!

I can personally say that God has blessed me with an amazing man! God made him and healed him just for me!! I never deserved such a gift but God said I did. Steve is my King and has made me his Queen. My heart still flutters and swells when I see him.  There are so many days I can’t wait for him to be home. I love being in his space at all times. Now onto new chapters in our lives as we marry our children, welcome more grandchildren, and grow the young ones still at home. We have big plans for our future and I truly cannot wait to see what God has in store for us. Because our lives are truly HIS!!

Mrs. Steven R. Bland (Lisa)

[jamindonesia-blog]

Week 1: Is Jam Still Alive?!

Yes!

Selamat Pagi!

(Good Morning)

How is everyone?! First, I have to say thank you to each and every one of you for the impact (large or small) you have made on my life. I can unequivocally say I would not be who I am today without your kindness, support, and friendship.

The way this is going to work: The weekly email blasts will be a short summary and one story from the past week, with as many pictures possible! Bear with me, the first email is a little longer because it's the first week!

On Friday, July 21st, I took off from the Raliegh International Airport to Indonesia (with a layover in Los Angeles and Hong Kong). My flight was a grueling 34 hours, and I was severely jet lag coming off that flight. I landed in Jakarta on Sunday, yes, Sunday, around 5 pm. All of the Fulbrights met in Jakarta on Sunday for a brief security meeting on Monday morning before we all flew to our individual placements. Below is a picture of some of us at dinner Sunday night! (I'm the one with the bucket hat)

Monday morning, we all flew out to our individual placements and I shipped off to Padang, Indonesia in West Sumatra. I want to share a story with you that will illustrate two things: Indonesian Culture and Culture Shock.

After landing in Padang, Indonesia on Monday, I was greeted at the airport by the Vice Principal, Assistant Vice Principle, and my counter part in Indonesia.

A counter part is an English teacher at your school who is your main contact. The role of a counter part is being someone who speaks fluent English and will help with the transition into the school.

After arriving, I was exhausted from the past 48 hours, all I want to do was drop my bags and go straight to bed.

We throw the bags into the back of the jeep and start to make our way to my home. The drive from the Padang airport to my home should be around 45 minutes with traffic, but this trip would end up taking over 4 hours. After we left the airport, it was time to pray, so we pulled over at a local mosque to pray; coming fresh off a security meeting in Jakarta, the last thing I was going to do was leave all of my belongings in the car unattended, so I sat outside the mosque for 30 minutes waiting while they prayed. Next, we stopped at 3 different gas stations to fill up the gas, but lines were long, unorganized, and for some reason, motorcycles kept cutting in front of us. Next, we stopped by the local markets to pick up basic home amenities for me.

(One of the markets)

Next, we went to dinner at an AUTHENTIC Padang restaurant where my stomach, off a limited appetite, instantly rejected the food. But don't worry, we're almost home. After dinner, they decided to take me to the school I will be teaching at to meet the local gate keeper and gardener; we spent an hour and a half at the school. After becoming more assertive, we finally went to my new home!! We pulled into my house at 9:45pm, I landed at 4pm.

(Local restaurant)

Now, what happens next, is called culture shock. When I am dropped off at my new place, it's pitch dark, there are no street lamps, outside home lights, and they walk me into my "brand new boarding house". I walk into the room with them and what I see almost puts me into tears. I walk into an 85-degree room with a mattress on the floor and a dresser in the corner of the room; that's it. There is NOTHING else in the room. There is a door in the corner of the room the opens to a toilet and bucket, for showers. My "boarding house" was smaller than a Freshman college dorm room.

Indonesian Culture: The first few days at my placement were extremely difficult. I would sleep in two-hour intervals due to jet lag and the sweltering heat. There was this rancid scent that didn't smell bad but made my stomach churn (I later found out it was the fumes from burning trash, which is a common practice in my town). I felt extremely isolated too, being the only English speaker in my town, and not having any neighbors. However, I quickly found out that the Indonesian people are some of the friendliest people in the world, seriously (more on this next email, will include science). Also, during my 4-hour "adventure" to my home, all of their actions had a common thread of kindness; they wanted me to see their beautiful mosque, eat their local food, have supplies for home, and see the school; they did not know any better! I am the first Fulbright in this school, so they are as lost as I am!  

Culture Shock: The culture shock was so real. It was the culmination of the heat, isolation, jet lag, lack of amenities, hormones, and much much more!

Important takeaways:

My first two days were the worst two days of my life, period. BUT, since then, I have found ways to cope and improve my situation.

I DEEPLY appreciate texting/facetiming/calling friends and family, it makes a huge difference! (A.K.A. CALL ME)

People here are unbelievably kind, which is making it easier to adjust.

Every day, I shoot for a 1% improvement, and I've been hitting those marks, for the most part!

I see every day as either a win or a loss. The goal throughout the day is to make it a "win". Regardless of how the prior day went, I make sure to start the next day as a completely new, independent day. This has worked well for me and I had my first "Win" this past Friday!

I am excited about the challenge, I would not want it any other way, and I would not be surviving this journey without everyone's support!

What's Next?

This past Sunday I flew to Jarkata for training (I will be here for two weeks)

Below are some pictures of my first week in Padang!

(11th graders; equivalent to our 12th grade)

(10th graders; second year high schoolers)

(Above are my two counter parts, Ibu Anita and Ibu Roza)

(This is my view on the way to school)

(Goofy the Goat) Yes, I named him.    

(L-R; Ibu Anita, Jam, Ibu Roza)

(Indonesians LOVE feeding you; One of my students, Naddra; Also the Student Body President, I think...)

Finally, if you find yourself with free time, shoot me a text,

I would love to hear from you!

Seriously, some of the best parts of my day are connecting with people back in America and sharing stories!

Be on the lookout for my next email, I want to be able to send them out every Monday morning for you guys to start your week with!

Warm Regards,

Jam

Disclaimer: Please forgive my grammar, structural, and/or overall English mistakes in the email, I wanted to get it sent out as soon as possible and didn't have time to proof read! We have long days here in training!