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patchworkofstars · 5 years ago

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How (Not) to Meet Your Soulmate

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Relationships: Prinxiety and Logicality

Words: 4,082

Synopsis: It's moving-in day at college, and soulmates Logan and Patton are looking forward to finally meeting in person after years of writing each other messages on their skin. Their friends Roman and Virgil, however, just can't seem to do things the easy way!

** Thanks to: **

@lovelylogans for the Secret Santa wishes that inspired this fic in the first place

@metaphoricalpluto for helping me brainstorm ideas, listening to me rant, and generally being an awesome and supportive bean

@painfullybisexual for going above and beyond in helping me understand how US colleges work

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

“How”, complains Roman, “Is anyone meant to fit all their outfits into a shoebox like that?” He waves a frustrated arm at the tiny closet the college has provided, then glares at the three cases worth of clothes on his bed. The pile steadfastly fails to reduce.

“I managed it okay!” the room’s other occupant points out cheerfully, smiling over from where he’s pinning photographs of family, friends, and various cute animals haphazardly onto a cork notice board.

“I meant anyone fashionable", Roman amends, flashing his childhood friend and now roommate a grin to show he means no malice.

Patton giggles, reaching to pin another photo, then drops it with a sudden squeal. Grabbing a bright blue pen from his desk, he flings himself joyfully onto his bed, all else temporarily forgotten in favour of the neat indigo text rapidly appearing on his arm.

Roman rolls his eyes. “What time is your date with Logan?” he asks, once Patton has finished replying to his soulmate and flopped back onto his bed with a contented sigh.

“Four o’clock, at the fountain in the main quad”, Patton says, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet him face to face!”

“Yes...” Roman busies himself cramming yet more outfits onto the already overstuffed rail in his closet, while studiously avoiding looking at his own, conspicuously bare arm.

“Have you arranged when you’re gonna meet Virgil yet?” The question was inevitable; it’s not Patton’s fault that Roman was hoping not to hear it.

Roman pauses in the act of hanging up a prince costume he's sure he'll find an essential use for at some point. "We're thinking of meeting tomorrow instead", he replies, keeping his tone light. "Virgil's stressed about moving in and navigating the new place, even with Logan around, and we figured after all these years we can survive another day apart."

“You don’t mind waiting?” Patton sits up, frowning, and Roman tries not to squirm under his gaze.

He grimaces. “Well, okay, I'm not thrilled about it, but I want to do what’s best for Virgil. And besides, now we’re on the same campus, there’s a chance fate might intervene.” He presses his hands to his chest, his expression morphing into the smile of an incurable daydreamer. “An encounter of destiny, unplanned, between two souls bound to each other! Doesn’t that sound so much more exciting than something planned?”

“Well, as long as it’s what you guys both want!” Patton smiles, uncapping his pen once more and drawing a heart on his arm. As soon as Roman turns away to continue unpacking, he bites his lip. Beginning a new message to Logan, he thanks the universe, not for the first time, that his soulmate and Roman’s are best friends too.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Logan finished unpacking over an hour ago, taking pleasure in carefully organising his small selection of semi-formal clothes and his more extensive collection of books. Now, he sits relaxing at his desk, reading information about the college in between messages too and from Patton.

Reaching the end of a paragraph, he glances once more at his left arm and notices a new stretch of blue ink dancing its way into being across the skin. He frowns thoughtfully as he reads the words. Hmm…

He looks over to where Virgil is lying back on his bed, surrounded by messy heaps of his unpacked belongings. His eyes are closed and he's listening to music on his headphones, shutting out the chaos and unfamiliarity of his surroundings. Still, Logan knows that exclusion doesn't extend to himself. They've been friends since middle school, and the neurodiversity that brought them together has given them a shared need for space and stability. Virgil finds organising his room a trial, so, on Logan's advice, he's pacing himself. First, he unpacked by dumping everything out of his bags, and now he's taking a break before tackling the more substantial chore of organising it all for the year ahead.

Watching Virgil twitch slightly to the beat of the music, Logan considers. Patton's concern is a reasonable one. Logan was surprised himself by Virgil's reluctance to meet Roman, and while he didn't press the issue at the time, his soulmate has offered a different perspective. Perhaps some subtle investigating is in order after all.

“Virgil”, he begins, to get his roommate’s attention, “Why are you delaying meeting Roman? I realise you find the prospect of meeting new people a stressful one, but surely you cannot consider Roman a stranger after so many years of communication with him?”

Virgil grimaces, opening his eyes and rolling over to face Logan. “Take a wild guess”, he grunts. “I’m putting it off because I know he’s gonna be disappointed. I’ve been able to make him think I’m cool and edgy in writing, but that won’t last two minutes in person when I don’t have all that extra time to think about what to say.”

Logan frowns. “I have never read any reputable reports of people being disappointed when meeting their soulmates. On the contrary, most studies have found a remarkable degree of compatibility between even those with markedly different personalities.”

“Tell that to my anxiety, L.” Virgil sighs, propping himself up onto an elbow. “It’s just a massive step, you know? Feels like too much to handle on the same day as moving in here.”

“Entirely reasonable.” Logan gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “It was not my intention to pressure you into meeting sooner. Still, I want you to know I am confident that when you do meet Roman, you will find him happy to accept every side of you, even the ones you struggle to accept yourself.”

“Maybe.” Virgil clearly isn’t convinced, but Logan decides to drop the topic for now. If he’s still refusing to meet Roman tomorrow, they can discuss the issue further then.

He glances at his watch. "I need to leave soon for my planned meeting with Patton. Will you be okay without me?"

“Already?” Virgil groans, flopping onto his back once more.

“We arranged to meet an hour before the new students' assembly to give us ample time for conversation." He hesitates, trying not to sound reluctant as he adds, "If you need to come with me, I am sure Patton will understand."

Virgil shudders. “Hell no, I don’t wanna watch you being sappy and weird. I’ll be okay. Probably turn my music up and kill time by organising some of my stuff.”

Logan nods. “A sensible idea.” Picking up his bag, he checks he has everything he wants to take with him, then takes a deep breath. “I will see you later. Please send me a text if you need me. I may not see it immediately, but I will be sure to check periodically in case.”

Hand on the door handle, he freezes abruptly as an unexpected wave of nervous adrenaline hits him. Distantly, he’s aware of Virgil asking if he’s okay, and he nods despite the way his heart is hammering in his chest. “Text me if you need me”, he repeats, the words a mantra of friendship. Then the handle turns, and he is on his way.

~~*~~*~~*~~

It’s 3:55 when Logan arrives at the fountain, his usual precise punctuality waved in the hope of seeing Patton's. He sits down on the curved stone seat, hands gripping the concrete to still their shaking as he scans the crowds moving around him. The walk across campus has helped to clear the nervous fog from his mind, but the way his heart is pounding, a less scientific thinker would say it was trying to escape his chest.

Wrapped up in these thoughts, he doesn’t notice Patton until the man is six yards away, his long stride rapidly closing that distance. Logan freezes, his heart continuing its thudding beat but somehow doubling the rate, and he has to force himself to breathe. He stands on shaking legs, his eyes fixed irresistibly on the figure now standing before him.

Patton beams down, all tan skin and cotton candy sweater. “Logan?” he asks breathlessly, and Logan’s head nods mechanically as he stares.

Patton's smile somehow widens even further, and he shakes his hands at his sides as if needing to expend some of his boundless excited energy. "I'm so happy to finally meet you! Face to face, I mean! Is it okay if I shake your hand? It sounds silly, but I kinda need to touch you so that I'll know you're really real!"

Something in Logan’s chest relaxes, letting him breathe more easily at last. “I assure you I am no illusion”, he says, smiling as he holds out his left hand.

Patton stares at it, then giggles, and Logan suddenly understands the metaphor of being hit by Cupid’s arrow.

“I forgot we’re opposite-handed!" Patton explains, holding out his own left hand to shake Logan’s eagerly. “I mean, I knew, obviously, but it’s somehow different seeing it in person. Like, now I really know, you know?”

"Indeed, observing for oneself is generally more impactful than hearing information secondhand.” Logan smiles up at him. “You are taller than I expected. For some reason, I assumed you would be approximately my height or shorter, although I now realise that was irrational of me."

Does he sound silly? Perhaps, but he’s unexpectedly overwhelmed by the feelings Patton is eliciting in him. They’ve been having written conversations ever since their soul connection formed, and over time a friendly intimacy has developed between them. Several years have passed since he became aware of the warm sensation thoughts of Patton bring to his chest.

But now, having the man standing before him, seeing his brown eyes sparkling with joy and excitement and the affection in his smile... Hearing his voice and the soft lilt of his accent... Logan has never felt so much all at once before, and it's sending his usually tidy thoughts swirling and scattering like papers in a sudden breeze.

Patton laughs, and the sound shoots another arrow of giddy heat into Logan's chest. "Guess we never thought to tell each other our heights, huh? I'm kinda glad I'm taller than you, though, wanna know why?"

“Why is that?” Logan asks, dazed.

Patton beams at him. "'Cause it means I can wrap you up in a great big hug like I've always wanted to! If you're okay with it, that is?"

Logan nods emphatically, finding his expansive vocabulary buried beneath the sudden lump in his throat. As Patton wraps strong arms around him and rests a warm cheek on his hair, his eyes prickle with what he’s confused to realise are tears. The sensation is so rare, it takes a moment for him to connect them to the glow of happiness spreading through him. With a contented sigh, he raises his own arms to hug Patton back, settling comfortably into his embrace.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Virgil sits on the edge of his bed, frantically bouncing one knee as he wonders if he should set out alone to the assembly. Deep in his spiralling thoughts, he startles hard when his phone buzzes with a text from Logan.

“Salutations,

Would it be possible for you to make your way to the event without me? I realise it may be selfish, but I am keen to spend as much time as possible getting to know Patton better. You are welcome to sit with us if we encounter you when we get there.

- Logan”.

Dammit. It’s what Virgil was expecting, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. He hates both crowds and formal events, and the thought of walking into this combination alone causes bitter dread to pool in the pit of his stomach. Plus, going without Logan means he’s almost guaranteed to end up sitting next to total strangers. He shudders.

Still, he refuses to make Logan worry. Firing back a quick “I’ll be okay”, he puts his earphones in and tries to lose himself in the music as he makes his way across campus to the venue.

Head down, eyes fixed on the ground a foot ahead of him, he tries to forget just how many people are heading the same way he is. As he approaches the hall, he becomes vaguely aware of a loud voice talking nearby. The small part of his mind paying attention concludes it's a telephone conversation, since only one side can be heard.

“But you can’t just abandon me to sit on my own!” the voice wails. “What will people think?! Yes, I’m sure he is handsome and smart and wonderful, but bros before souls, that’s what I always say. Well, okay, maybe I’ve never said it before, but I’m saying it now! Yes, I know, I can hear him. You're right, his accent is cute. I can’t wait to hear my soulmate's- OUCH!!"

A flailing arm thuds into Virgil, who is nearly thrown off balance by the shock of the impact. He looks up, glaring daggers, to find the loudmouth scowling back with equal fury.

“Watch where you’re going, clod!” the overdressed stranger rants.

“Same to you, watch where you’re flinging your arms!”

"I'm having an important conversation-"

“What’s the point in waving your arms around when the person on the phone can’t even-”

They're interrupted by an official-sounding voice ringing out over a tannoy, reminding everyone that the assembly will begin soon and they should hurry inside and find seats.

The disparate parts of the crowd begin to converge, pushing into the hall, and Virgil and the loud stranger are carried along side by side in the flow. They find themselves pushed together to sit on the end of a row of chairs, and although Virgil is still annoyed, he takes some relief at having the aisle seat.

“How did I get stuck next to the emo nightmare?" he hears his neighbour grumble under his breath.

“Karma for being a nightmare yourself”, Virgil mutters, and the stranger at least has the decency to blush.

Their bickering might have continued indefinitely, but at that moment the MC steps up to the microphone to begin their welcome, and an unspoken truce descends.

*****

When at last it's over, Virgil sits back in his chair and sighs wearily. "That was even more boring than I thought it would be", he remarks to no one in particular.

Of course, the stranger beside him responds as though it were directed at him. “I’m surprised you heard any of it with your earphones in the whole time. I could hear your music all the way through!”

Virgil turns and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, maybe you wouldn't have if you hadn't been leaning over so close to me. You were practically on my lap!"

The stranger huffs, glaring back at him. “It’s not like I had a choice! It was the only way I could see past that mountain of a guy in front of me!”

“Well, sorry I didn’t realise you were so keen for a good view of some guy standing talking.” Virgil scowls. “So you could hear my music, huh? Is that why you kept tapping your fingers on your knee? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t realise you were paying so much attention to my legs! And besides, I defy anyone not to tap their fingers along to Panic! At The Disco!”

“Wait, you recognised it?” Virgil frowns at the thoroughly preppy-looking guy next to him. “I wasn’t exactly the mainstream stuff. I didn’t take you for an emo.”

“If you must know, my soulmate's an emo, and he introduced me to them. I might not share all his tastes, but as a theatre kid, I always appreciate theatrical flair."

Oh right, soulmates are a thing. Virgil gives a grunt that could mean anything, turning his attention away from the stranger's continued rambling. He watches as more and more individuals and groups make their way to the exits. All the freshmen are meant to be here, which means Roman must be somewhere amongst them. For the first time, he almost regrets never asking for a photograph or more detailed physical description. But he always feared Roman would expect the same from him in return, and then be disappointed or put off by his ever-present hoodie and black eye shadow.

It doesn’t help that the vague description he’s been given of “Tall, with brown hair and blue eyes”, could fit far too many of the students here, including the one tapping a foot and making impatient noises beside him.

With a sigh, Virgil stands up, switching his music back on and turning up the volume as he waits for a gap in the flow of bodies. As soon as one appears, he steps into it, letting himself be absorbed and carried away towards the door. As he moves away, he’s distantly aware of his former seat-mate speaking, but he’s too stressed, too busy trying to blot out the strangers surrounding him to think of looking back.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Roman sighs, flopping dramatically backwards onto his bed. It's been a long day, and he wants to relax, but his mind buzzes restlessly with frustration.

Patton sent a text to say he’ll be getting dinner at the dining hall with Logan, and while he did say Roman was welcome to join them, Roman has no desire to play third wheel, thank you very much. Besides which, he can't shake the petty resentment that his hopes of a destiny-driven encounter with Virgil have apparently been dashed. Instead, he got stuck with some other emo, who, while admittedly very cute, had the cheek, the absolute bare-faced audacity to zone out while Roman was speaking to him and then walk away without even a goodbye!

With a huff, Roman rolls over and glares at the time. It’s 7:15 pm, earlier than his and Virgil’s usual chat time, but he needs to feel connected to his soulmate right now. With a surge of misery, he realises he’s lonely, as well as more envious of Patton and Logan than he’d like to admit.

Fumbling in a pocket, he pulls out the red glitter gel pen he reserves for soul-to-soul talks, and writes “Hey, stormcloud, are you free?” on his left arm.

After a few moments, a spidery dark purple reply writes itself onto his right arm. “Yeah, wanna talk now?”

"Patton's off with Logan, and I need to vent!" He underlines "vent" three times, as emphatic in writing as he would be out loud.

“Is that all I am to you? A listening arm?” It’s followed by their own version of a “:P”, to show that Virgil is joking.

“Of course not, my shadowling! But I’ve had the most boring day, and I'm lonely~".

“Yeah yeah, Logan’s ditched me too, remember? Did you make it to the assembly? I looked for you”.

Roman groans, then does his best to reproduce the sound in writing. “Uggghhh, I did, and I got stuck next to the most annoying guy ever!”

“Hah! Can’t have, because the most annoying guy was sitting next to me. He kept fidgeting and getting in my space through the whole thing”.

Roman grins, standing up and moving to the sink, where he rinses the red ink from his arm to make space for more, Virgil must have the same idea, because a moment later the purple text begins erasing itself too.

“I wish I could’ve sat with you”, he writes, as soon as his arm is dry.

“Same”. There’s a pause, and then, “Kinda regret not meeting you today”.

Roman stares at the words, running his left hand unconsciously through his hair. Destiny might have denied him a chance first meeting, but if Virgil has changed his mind, there’s no reason for them to hold back any longer. Decision made, he uncaps his pen and writes “Want to meet now?” before he can lose his nerve.

The seconds tick by with no response, not a drop of purple ink appearing, and he begins to worry he’s misjudged Virgil’s feelings. Then, at last, three letters appear, small but undeniable:

“Yes”.

“Yes!!” Roman echoes in a yell to the empty room, leaping up and grabbing his jacket from the back of his desk chair. Then he hesitates, sitting back down on the edge of the bed as he realises he doesn’t know where Virgil’s room is. Or even if he’s there, for that matter.

Besides which, while Virgil did accept the offer, his reply wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. Best to make certain he really wants to do this first.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting”, Roman writes, adding a smiley face for good measure.

This time there is only a short pause before the words appear. “Yeah, the whole assembly thing made me wanna see you properly”.

Roman takes a deep breath, trying to still the tremor of excitement rushing through him. “Okay!” he writes back. “Want me to bring anything? I have a popcorn maker and every single Disney movie!”

“Seriously? You brought a freaking popcorn maker to college?”

“We always said we’d have movie nights when we finally met up, eating popcorn and talking all through the films!”

“You are so unbelievably extra”.

“You love it!”

“Yeah, I’m weird like that.”

“So, no popcorn?” Roman asks.

“Are you kidding? Of course bring popcorn!”

Roman grins.

*****

He takes his time making the popcorn, giving Virgil space to adjust to the change in plans. As he does, his thoughts drift to his grumpy seat-mate from earlier, and he remembers wincing as the guy picked at his chipped black nail polish during the endless speeches.

That gives him an idea…

“How about we paint our nails while we talk?” he suggests. “It’s relaxing and we’ll look good!”

“Sure”, appears on his arm. “I’ve only got black and purple though.”

“Fear not, my dark and stormy knight, I have every colour of the rainbow!” Roman grabs his makeup pouch and empties it onto his desk, separating out a selection of his favourites. These he puts back in the pouch, then it goes into his bag with the tub of popcorn.

“I’m ready to head out!” he writes on his arm. “Where’s your room?”

There’s a pause, then the address appears. But before Roman can lower his arm, Virgil adds, “Brace yourself for disappointment”.

“Why?” he writes back, frowning.

“I’m just… probably not gonna be as cool as you expect”.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not as cool as me!” He replies immediately, then hesitates. Virgil has been vulnerable with him, and he should repay the honesty.

“I’m nervous too”, he admits, “But this is us, remember? We’ve spoken every day since we turned ten and our soul bond formed. We’ve listened to each others’ favourite music, watched each others’ favourite movies, and stayed up all night talking. We’ve shared our hopes, our fears, and our dreams. Even if we weren’t soulmates, you're my best friend, and I love you. Nothing's going to change that.

*****

It's a short walk across campus to Virgil's dorm, and nervous energy quickens Roman's strides. At last, he finds the right number door and gives a firm knock. Slowly, cautiously, it opens to reveal...

“You?!” Roman practically screeches.

“Seriously?!”

“I cannot believe this! Are you actually telling me you’re Virgil?”

“How many ginger-haired emos from Milwaukee do you think there are on campus?!”

“You’re Virgil...” There’s a pause as Roman’s expression visibly cycles from indignant, through dawning realisation, to settle on contrite. “Sorry about, you know...” He waves his arm, and Virgil raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry you clobbered me with your arm?”

“Well, yes… I was talking to Patton and didn’t notice you.”

“Yeah, I got that. Sorry I wasn’t, you know, watching where I was going.” Virgil looks down, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I know I’m annoying. If you’re gonna leave, just go.”

Roman frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous. You might be annoying, but you’re my best friend! I came here to eat popcorn, riff on Disney movies, and hug you, and I’m not leaving until I’ve done all three!”

Virgil looks up, finally managing a lopsided smile. “You sure?”

“Of course! And besides, I bet I can be twice as annoying as you.”

With a snort, Virgil steps back, opening the door further to let Roman in. “Good to know fate made the two most annoying guys in the world soulmates.”

Roman grins. “Soulmates about to have the best evening ever!” he replies.

~~*~~*~~*~~ *~~

@creativity-killed-thekitten @the-prince-and-the-emo @shesavampirequeen @patton-in-name @pearls-of-patton @xxladystarlightxx @suyun-doo @softestlittlepuffball @evilmuffin @milomeepit @musikasworld @holy-anxiety-batman @quoth-the-sparrow @daring-elm @sandersfanders

#prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #soulmate au #patchwork fic

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missjanjie · 6 years ago

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Branjie Fic | Bad Girls Club (1/?)

Title: Bad Girls Club Summary: Los Angeles' new program, the Juvenile Female Rehabilitation Program (JFRP) was created with the purpose of taking at-risk girls in the county and send them to a summer-long program located where a sleepaway camp once stood. There, they will take classes in ethics, behavior, and other courses to help mold these young minds. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa have been sent there for wildly different reasons, but with the same result - a clean permanent record. Being roomed together, the pair might find an unlikely alliance (and maybe more) in each other. Word Count: ~2.5k Relationship: Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo) Rating: E (for later chapters)

Read on AO3

------

“Hytes.” The woman’s beady eyes scanned the list over her reading glasses. “Room 208.” She used her pen to point down the hall before walking off to direct the next girl that walked through the door.

Brooke Lynn had only walked about six feet before she heard a room down the hall blasting Rihanna. She looked up when she’d reached the source. 208. Fantastic. Not that she had anything against the singer, but it was eight in the morning and she just was not in the mood to deal with it. Her first instinct was to storm in and shut the music off, but then she remembered where she was.

Most, if not all, of the girls here had some sort of criminal record – she doubted her situation was a common one, being a first-time offender being promised no more than a slap on the wrist once all was said and done. And she knew why – she was rich, white, had a well-connected family… This must have been what Martha Stewart felt like when she went to prison, she mused. Her hand hovered over the doorknob. Should she knock? This was her room too, after all. Besides, whoever was in there probably wouldn’t hear it over the music, so she let herself in, the door shutting behind her.

The room itself was maybe a square foot or two larger than a college dorm, comfortable, but far from roomy and accommodating. It had been re-purposed from the sleepaway camp that preceded it, and it did manage to maintain a woodsy aesthetic. Everything was clean, almost too clean – as if they weren’t supposed to touch anything. Though her roommate’s side already seemed well-lived in, as Brooke noticed when she finally allowed herself to look over towards her.

On the right side of the room, the other inhabitant hadn’t even looked up when she’d walked in. When Brooke’s gaze drifted towards her, she stopped in her tracks. She had wavy, chestnut-brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail, bronze skin that even looked soft to the touch, and as she painted her nails, her tongue was pressed between her lips – soft lips that made Brooke wonder what they’d feel like if—

The music cut off in the middle of ‘Disturbia.’ “Are you my roommate or do you work here?” the girl asked, yanking Brooke from her silent assessment.

“Roommate.” Brooke blushed and moved with her luggage to the other side of the room. “My name’s Brooke Lynn,” she introduced.

“Vanessa. Miss Vanjie if you’re nasty,” she laughed at herself before blowing on her nails and admiring her handiwork. Once done, she sat upright and looked her over. “You lost or something? I think cheer camp’s down the road.” Despite her comments, there wasn’t any malice in her tone.

Brooke looked down, rubbing her arm awkwardly. “No, no. I’ve been… Sentenced to charm school instead of ‘conventional punishment’ just like you, more or less.” She had no idea what Vanessa was actually in for, but the absolute nonchalant attitude she had made it clear that she wasn’t the same anxious, uncertain, ‘just slipped up’ type.

Vanessa snorted in laughter. “For what? Some white people shit like…” She was drawing a blank. “Tax evasion?”

Brooke covered her mouth as she giggled. “No, no, nothing like that.” She looked down, fiddling with her hair. “A guy kept hitting on my friend at work. When she finally outright rejected him, he got her fired. So… I slashed his tires.” She didn’t regret what she had done, but everyone from her parents to teachers acted like she had lost her mind whenever she told the story.

But not Vanessa. No, she was smiling at her, nodding her head in approval. “Shit, that’s pretty badass for someone that looks like Elle Woods,” she mused.

“Hey, Elle Woods is badass!” Brooke retorted. “But…thanks, I think. What about you – what sort of wild felony did you commit that makes you such an authority?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes and lay back down. “I got busted with a quarter ounce and a fake.” Before Brooke could ask, she clarified, “Weed and a fake ID. But I’m a ‘repeat offender’ and ‘general nuisance’,” she huffed, irritated. It wasn’t her fault – it was just how she liked to have fun. She wasn’t hurting anyone.

“And now we’re here. The great equalizer of the system,” Brooke mused as she started to unpack.

“Yo, don’t pretend for a second like the system treats us equal just ‘cause we roommates, got it? You can’t pretend they gonna look at us and treat us the same. We can sit and kiki and braid each other’s hair or whatever, but you know damn well we going home to two real different lives.” Vanessa had rolled onto her side as she spoke, bearing a piercing glare that contrasted her relaxed position.

Brooke stared at the ground and cleared her throat. “You’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry.” So much for making a good first impression she thought, and silently went back to moving her clothes into their respective drawers.

After a deep, reluctant sigh, Vanessa got up and sat next to Brooke instead. “It’s okay. I don’t want us to get off on a bad start. There’s gonna be a lot of crazy bitches in this program, might be nice to have someone in your corner, you know?”

Still a bit red in the face, Brooke Lynn faced her, tucking a few blonde strands behind her ear. “I couldn’t agree more.” A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she felt a weight lift off of her chest. “Allies?” She extended her hand out.

Vanessa chuckled and shook her hand. “Sure, allies.” She tilted her head, studying Brooke’s hand for a moment. “You got short nails,” she remarked. “Is that a personal preference or—”

“Yes, I’m a lesbian, Vanessa,” Brooke laughed softly.

“Duly noted.”

------

It was the first night at the JFRP, and all two hundred girls had been funneled into the mess hall for dinner. This room was the most obvious remainder of the site’s days as a sleepaway camp, leaving it just endearing enough to make them forget where they were, if only for a meal. Brooke Lynn had just taken her plate of uniformly unappetizing dinner and searched aimlessly for a seat. There didn’t seem to be a spot for her to sit in.

Vanessa noticed this and, after going back and forth for a moment, took pity on her. “Yo, roomie, over here!” The smile and relief on the blonde’s face was just enough to keep her from regretting the decision.

The other girls, her friend, A’keria and two other girls – Yvie and Scarlet – if she remembered correctly, at the table had hardly acknowledged Brooke directly, rather exclusively to each other through unsubtle whispering – mostly speculation that Vanessa was only tolerating Brooke’s presence because ‘she looked like a Barbie doll’ and ‘hey, if she’s flexible enough…’

“Would all of y’all shut the fuck up? Crazy asses.” Vanessa had whirled around to snap at them, glaring pointedly.

Yvie’s brow rose and a smirk hit her lips. “Thou doth protest too much,” she chided.

“Don’t even care enough to ask what you mean.” She rolled her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Brooke asked, looking up from her tray and towards the other four girls, having been fading in and out of paying attention.

Vanessa turned, angling herself between Brooke and the other girls to intercept. “Nothing, they just being stupid, don’t pay them bitches no mind,” she assured, spending the rest of the meal making sure the two conversations didn’t overlap.

Luck was with her, as they got through dinner without Brooke Lynn catching on to the adjacent gossip. But whatever luck she had immediately dissipated when they returned to their room. Vanessa’s bed was stripped bare and there was a note taped to the frame. Apparently, there had been reports of mold on the beds and each of them were inspected during dinner. While Brooke hadn’t been affected, she was stuck without a bed for the night. “This is bullshit,” she muttered. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

“You can share with me,” Brooke offered with a shrug and a small smile. “I know it’s a little tight, but I don’t mind if you don’t.” In fact, she reallydidn’t mind, but she swore it was coming from a kind place and not a sexual one.

And Vanessa wasn’t sure how to make heads or tails of it either – but she sure as hell wasn’t about to sleep on the floor. “You sure? ‘Cause that does sound like the best option here,” she admitted, sitting down on the unaffected bed.

“Of course, it’s the least I could do.” Brooke got up and grabbed her toothbrush and pajamas. “I’ll be right back,” she said and went down the hall to the bathroom.

It had only taken Vanessa a minute to get changed, leaving her alone on Brooke’s bed, which in and of itself didn’t mean anything, but the temptation to snoop was starting to grow. A little peek couldn’t hurt, right? All she took was a quick look through the top drawer – just enough for her to be impressed by the fact that Brooke appeared to own half of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. She had thought she’d spotted something else as well, but she heard footsteps down the hall and slammed the drawer shut, avoiding getting caught by the skin of her teeth.

Brooke got under the covers after she set her belongings down. “I’m gonna turn in now, just make yourself comfortable.” She rolled over and closed her eyes.

------

Despite having fallen asleep facing the wall, Brooke had awoken to find herself spooning Vanessa from behind, her face buried into her thick mane that smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon. Her smaller body felt so warm and soft against her own and god, if she could only just lay there a little longer…

The default iPhone alarm had just become Brooke’s least favorite sound in the world. Having to untangle herself from a barely awake Vanessa caused her damn near real pain. “Class is in an hour,” she mumbled to her bed companion as she pushed herself to a sitting position and rubbed her eyes.

Vanessa rolled onto her stomach and groaned into the pillow. “Shouldn’t have to wake up at eight in the fucking morning in the summer,” she muttered.

“This is still a punishment,” Brooke reminded her as she carefully navigated around her to get out of bed and dress for the day.

Vanessa rolled her eyes as she pulled herself together. “This is still a punishment,” she mocked under her breath as she ran a brush through her hair. She threw her bag over her shoulder and shoved her hands into her pockets before they walked – not together, but in tandem – to the main building.

In front of the building were a few tables, milk crates full of paper bags on each of them. ‘Breakfast’ was written in marker and taped to the front of each crate and each girl took a bag as they went inside.

There were about ten minutes of just chatting while eating their single-serve packages of cereal and dubiously ripe oranges. The teacher had entered in the midst of breakfast, and even when everyone had settled down, there was an air of confusion around her presence.

Considering the circumstances, everyone had expected someone gruff and serious – maybe a cop or a warden or something. Instead, they had a tall, cheerful woman that stepped right out of a Disney cartoon.

“Good morning, ladies. My name is Ms. West and I’ll be your behavioral modification instructor for the duration of this program,” she greeted and wrote her name on the board. “I will say, I am surprised to see some familiar faces here, but no matter, you’re all equal in my eyes.”

Brooke sunk into her seat, wishing now more than ever that she was anywhere but in this classroom. She dropped her gaze to the desk, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the teacher.

Vanessa, sitting a row over, waved her hand to get Brooke’s attention and mouthed ‘what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ Brooke mouthed, shaking her head and then huddling herself over the syllabus when it made its way down the line to her.

The rest of the introductory class had gone in one ear and out the other. Brooke Lynn’s mind felt cloudy, as if it’d slipped into a sea of fog that filled up her head and only threatened to escape through the mist in her eyes. Her cheeks burned red, fueled by the rapid beating of her heart. This was the last thing she had wanted, the one thing she didn’t have any sort of plan for.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Brooke Lynn,” Nina said when she started towards the exit. “This isn’t your scene at all, what happened?”

“I messed up.” She shrugged and put her hands on her hips. “I did something I wasn’t supposed to, and now I’m paying the price.” She sighed and looked down. “Please don’t let this get out back home, I’ve been keeping it a secret.”

Nina nodded. “I’ve never broken a promise to you before,” she assured, then tilted her head. “You should get going, your friend’s waiting for you.” She used her head to gesture back towards the rows of desks.

Brooke’s brows knit forward before she turned around and saw Vanessa lingering, sitting up on one of the desks and swinging her legs. “Oh, yeah… Come on, Vanjie. We should go.” She pressed her lips into a fine line and briskly walked out of the class, inadvertently making it difficult for the shorter girl to catch up.

“Okay, now will you tell me what the fuck is going on?” Vanessa asked, out of breath.

“Nina – Ms. West – is a teacher at the school I go to. And it’s…well, it’s the type of school you probably think I go to.” She chuckled dryly. “She’s like a mentor to me, I really respect her. I feel like I’m letting her down by being here, and gossip spreads so fast…”

“But you aren’t here ‘cause of some stupid shit. You’re here for standing up for your friend. I bet that’d get you a lot of street cred in whatever fancy-ass private school you go to,” Vanessa offered with a soft smile.

Brooke sighed and shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. Where I’m from, ‘street cred’ is a mark against you. You have to be as close to the norm as possible. Coming out caused enough drama, I don’t need this on me too,” she explained. “So, I just have to be as boring as possible.”

Vanessa let out a soft laugh. “I don’t care what you do back home, but there’s no way I’m letting you be lame here.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, babe.”

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf #lesau

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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Bad Girls Club (Branjie) Chapter 1 - Joley (redvanjie)

A/N: (abridged summary) Brooke Lynn and Vanessa are sent to the same summer program (juvenile female rehabilitation program/jfrp) in exchange for having their permanent records expunged. While there for very different reasons, they just might find an alliance (and maybe more) with each other [Read on AO3]

The music cut off in the middle of ‘Disturbia.’ “Are you my roommate or do you work here?” the girl asked, yanking Brooke from her silent assessment.

“Roommate.” Brooke blushed and moved with her luggage to the other side of the room. “My name’s Brooke Lynn,” she introduced.

Vanessa snorted in laughter. “For what? Some white people shit like…” She was drawing a blank. “Tax evasion?”

But not Vanessa. No, she was smiling at her, nodding her head in approval. “Shit, that’s pretty badass for someone that looks like Elle Woods,” she mused.

“Hey, Elle Woods is badass!” Brooke retorted. “But…thanks, I think. What about you – what sort of wild felony did you commit that makes you such an authority?”

“And now we’re here. The great equalizer of the system,” Brooke mused as she started to unpack.

Vanessa chuckled and shook her hand. “Sure, allies.” She tilted her head, studying Brooke’s hand for a moment. “You got short nails,” she remarked. “Is that a personal preference or—”

“Yes, I’m a lesbian, Vanessa,” Brooke laughed softly.

“Duly noted.”

——