altrxistisms-archive-blog

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

thisgreynoise

“I’d say you’re wearing it better than I ever did. Look at you, cutie; I could eat you up.”

“Wouldn’t you like to...” She muttered coherent enough for Jackie to hear. “Are you sure you don’t mind, baby? I just... I don’t know, I said I wouldn’t become the clingy girlfriend archetype but... your shirts are so fuzzy! And soft!” 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

@thisgreynoise

“I’m not sure if it’s... yours or not... but, I’ve already put it on. Don’t you think it looks good on me, mon coeur?” 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (2015) dir. Alfonso Gomez-Rejon

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Alan: 

He…did he…did he expect her to say yes?

He did. He really did.

No. That word was so short, so small and barely audible– but he heard. He heard it, and it tazed him. Stabbed was such a weak way to describe it. It did hurt – his head jolted – but a stabbing pain was local. This? This made the hairs on his entire boy stand, his limbs feel a little numb, his breath to hitch. And for a moment, the pain in his heart spread around to his lungs. He forgot to breathe, and he feared for a second that like Romeo and Juliet, Alan and Jolie were going to die together in the same way.

Jolie felt like this. Her lungs were unreliable, and she always felt like Alan had felt in that moment. She had to cope with the knowledge that her life was cut short every day– and here he was, doing his best by just asking her if she wanted to watch a movie.

Alan was so stupid.

But it didn’t matter how stupid he was or how much her pleas for him to leave hurt. What mattered was that Jolie had numbered months to live, and she couldn’t spend them in bed with her depression on one side and self-loathing on the other.

Alan said nothing. He just got up, turned to the door, and walked out.

But he didn’t leave the house. It was past eleven at night, his mom was working a late shift, his fourteen-year-old sister was home alone, and Alan would have to get a call that his own apartment was on fire before he left this house.

When he returned, he had a large cup of water, a tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a pack of wet wipes with him. He sat by Jolie’s side again and put the wet wipes and cup on the nightstand before holding out the oral health duo. “Jolie, come on,” he said softly. “You don’t have to get up. Brush your teeth here. I’ll refill the cup if I have to. You don’t have to shower, either. Clean up a little with the wet wipes; I read that’s a good alternative. And– I’m pretty sure there must be dry shampoo somewhere.”

He swallowed. Then, with his entire heart, he said, “Please. Just because my sun is behind clouds doesn’t mean she’s not there.”

A pin dropped. No. Dozens upon dozens of pins clattered on bedroom floor. Please get out. 

There was nothing but radio silence in that room as soon as those words were spoken. She wanted nothing more but to take the air evaporated from them, shove it back into her mouth, chew at them, and keep it to herself. She wanted to say that she didn’t mean it, she swore it. Not right now. Not when the pins in her head were nothing but a constant roar of clatters. 

Still. Everything was still, and then the weight of her bed lifted. Come back. Stay here with me. I didn’t mean it! The door opened then closed. Air hit her windpipe and she was left in solitude. Like she wanted... silent sobs painting her tear-stained cheeks, suffocating under her thick comforter, and her head pounded with agony. She didn’t realize she had cried herself of exhaustion and slept. 

It was Alan’s voice that woke her up. She loved his voice; she always begged him to sing songs to her, with her, one Fleetwood Mac song, baby! Just one! It was soothing to hear when she would drift off with each other, you know I love you right? It felt like home. 

Right now, it sounded on edge. Broken. Like any wrong thing he might say will set off a walking disaster called Jolie Moreau. Yet, it also sounded patient and resolute. It was irritating; she wasn’t inept, but she couldn’t not do things for herself and...

No. He wasn’t doing this to baby her. He wasn’t doing this because it was a chore. He was doing this for her, for them. 

Her eyes opened, she let out a huge exhale, and peeked her head out of the comforter for what felt like the first time in days. She probably looked revolting, she wouldn’t know as she hasn’t looked at a mirror in days, as well. Sometimes, when she got like this - she imagined how she looked like to other people. Oily hair, chapped lips, heavy purple circles cascading down her eyelids, a more paler complexion, acne that resembled constellations. Red nosed and tear stained cheeks. Revolting.

What wasn’t revolting was the sight in front of her. Alan. She almost cooed at the sight of his cuddly exterior, cute little beanie on top of his head. But, she also noticed how tired he looked. You did that.

Jolie could do this. She could sit up. It was only for a little. Then, she could back to sleep. Sleep the day away, night away? What day is it? 

Her entire head was uncovered by now and she just stared at him, before covering her face with her arms. “Okay, Alan, okay.” It was hoarse. Grabbing onto the ends of her covers, she pushed herself up to sit. It was woozy and her back hurt from no exertion of it but simply sitting up was a chore. But, she could do this for him. 

No, she couldn’t. Numb. She leaned against him and shook her head. “I... I... need you to he-help me.” She stretched out her fingers but they felt like they had injected needles in them. “N-numb... all over.” 

She couldn’t stop herself. “You... sh-shouldn’t have to deal with this.” She can’t even hold a toothbrush. 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Alan:

School was out in the meantime, so when Alan’s manager asked him to come in for an extra shift twice, he didn’t mind. He had the time, and Ana could handle being home alone for a couple of extra hours. This whole situation seemed legit. Alan didn’t suspect that the reason he was called in would be what made him miserable. Only when he actually got there on his second day filling in did everything become clear: Jolie wasn’t showing up. It was her place he was taking.

He texted her even before putting on his cap. If Alan asked her if she was fine, it would drive her away; he knew better. Instead, he asked her if she was free to hang out tonight.

He checked his phone every five minutes– then every half hour. His first shift was almost done, and she hadn’t answered yet. Shit. Spamming her was hardly ideal, but he did it anyway. Until he fell asleep that night, he texted her every hour. The spam started with lighthearted “Jooolllliiiiiiieeeeee”s and ended with worried pleas for her to answer. He called her that night, and she didn’t pick up. He called Calvin to make sure she was at least home and–alive.

The next day was no better. Alan finished work at eleven PM. From there, he called Calvin to let him know he was coming over, then he went straight to Jolie’s house.

Her door was locked, and Alan couldn’t thank God enough that extra keys were a thing. Esme unlocked the door for him, and Alan went right in. Jolie’s protests came, but just as she was good at ignoring his worried texts, he was good at ignoring her opposition.

“I don’t care,” he told her simply, sitting on the edge of her bed. The place kinda smelled like death. He didn’t care. Alan was only glad for the like instead of something else. “Do you wanna watch Romeo + Juliet with me?”

Of course he didn’t. “Well, you should.” Jolie retorted, almost immediately. She felt the edge of her bed dip and something warm against her feet to which she let out a mix of exhaust and yearn. 

Exhaust because she wanted more than anything but for Alan to leave her bed, her room, just to leave her alone. She wanted to tell him to stop glorifying this for something it wasn’t. She wanted to tell him that this was anything far from admirable. It was repulsive, she was repulsive. She was muddled under all of the heavy sheets and there was silence in the room.

Yearn because she wanted nothing more but to get out of this bed, wake her aching limbs enough to spend a decent amount of time in the shower to actually get cleaning products on her oily hair and face, brush her teeth and feel minty. Grab her nicest clothes, grab him by the hand, and kiss him, and recite unscripted poetry privately to him. Make him smile and laugh. Kiss him all over his face. Starboy.

But, just sitting up was an effort. Opening her eyes was way more than difficult than it should be. And the only unscripted poetry that came to mind was all about how much she wouldn’t mind if she dissipated to nothing but sun’s dust. 

There was silence but the pitter-patter of unspoken words between them. Alan’s sighs and Jolie’s exhales. It was silent but it was still so fucking loud. It made her head throb, it made her close her eyes, as she let the hushed tears make way down to her cheeks.

No, I do not want to watch Romeo + Juliet with you. I want you to leave, to stay away from me - because you don’t deserve any of this. You deserve nothing but the best and nothing but the good, and I can’t provide that for you. 

Silence. 

“No.”

“...You took my shift today, didn’t you?” Her voice trembled and it was almost indecipherable.

“Liam told me.” The manager was very quick to understand what was going on with Jolie, it was a routine for him, almost.

“Alan... please.” Every time she talked, her heart burned. Not much more than it ached Alan’s with her words. “Go away. Please leave. Please get out.” She scooted away from his warmth. From him.

Every time, she moved, it hurt to move.

Every time, she moved, she wanted to return to his side.

“I’m tired.” Of you having to go through with this when it hits. Not knowing what to do with yourself. With me. Of you giving your all to something that doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. You do.

I’m tired was just enough. 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

@theycallmethetripleabattery 

Jolie was very good at ignoring the inevitable.

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Ignore the next minute, the next hour, the next day... what day is it? 

She was awake to see the sun rise and slept through dusk. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

She wasn’t hungry, she swore it. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Her mind begun seeing no black, no white. Just grey. That was all she saw, actually. In fact, it hurt to just open her eyes. Sleep was better, her eyes were closed. Her head didn’t ache from void. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

She hadn’t showered in days... come to think of it, her limbs hurt but she hadn’t left her bed either. 

Did you take your medications yet, Jolie? I think so. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Why is the door locked, Jolie? I don’t know. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Jolie woke Esme and Calvin at four in the morning when she felt the saliva-filled pillow was suffocating her tears and herself, she didn’t want to die. Not yet, not yet, not yet. The tears clouded her vision, clouded her thoughts, please. Let me breathe. 

She awoke the next morning with both of them beside her. And concerned texts from Alan. She didn’t have to think twice. 

She forced them to leave. She locked the door with as much might as she could.

He called a good four times that she ignored. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Before turning off her phone and throwing it across the room.

She wasn’t sure if the sun was setting or rising, but the sky was pink. 

The sky was pink when her door rattled for a good few minutes. She stuck her head out of her covers after it was almost incessant.

The light that poured out from it was so bright, she shuffled back into her covers until she could peek out again... and, fuck...

Of course they would.

It was then that Jolie became hyper aware of the fact that she hadn’t showered or brushed her teeth in days because she couldn’t even find the will to get out of bed to do so. The bags under her eyes were probably bruised purple and swollen from the stupid crying spells that came from nowhere. She felt smaller, smaller than usual. Almost skeletal. 

Disgusting. Jolie felt disgusting. 

So, she looked. And looked. He didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve him.

“Please go away.” She croaked, looking away as she started to cover her face with her sweater-pawed hands. “Please leave, I’m disgusting right now. Please go.”

That was the most she had talked in days and... who knew it hurt to talk?

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.                                                  Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

Richard Siken,  from Crush; “Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out,”

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

☎️ For all my Jolie trashes

PUT ☎ IN MY ASK FOR YOUR MUSES INFO IN MY MUSES PHONE 

+ NAME: aDADnis ❤️

+ RINGTONE: How Deep Is Your Love by Bees Gees (because they totally sing this to each other when they’re cleaning the house together and Adonis serenades Jolie as he picks her up to reach something up high on the cabinets and she loves him very much, I’M SOFT)

+ PICTURE:

+ LAST TEXT RECEIVED: [10:39]: jolie moreau, you literally have this mid-life crisis every MONTH or so and you always think the solution is going back to france is MY LOVE NOT ENOUGH???

+ LAST TEXT SENT:  [10:42]: dONNY, you really think i’m joking but i’m not and i’m taking you with me >:(

 [10:43]: reminder that i love you feel like i haven’t told you that ENOUGH today

+ NAME: starboy 💘✨

+ RINGTONE: City of Stars by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone (you already know why don’t touch me i was found: soft!!!)

+ PICTURE: 

+ LAST TEXT RECEIVED: [12:45]: mmm goodnight girl of the sun. i love you more.

[12:46]: see you tomorrow <3

+ LAST TEXT SENT: [12:43]: baby wait!!!!!!! i just want to say that i love you so much

[12:44]: goodnight starboy i love you forever 

+ NAME: flowergirl 💐🌷🌹🌻🌼🌸🌺

+ RINGTONE: sleepover by hayley kiyoko

+ PICTURE:

+ LAST TEXT RECEIVED: [4:57]: fuck okay fine

[4:57]: i’m on my way

+ LAST TEXT SENT: [4:55]: left ur flannel here last night

[4:56]: you should come get it

[4:56]: or i could just put it on. fits me nice

[4:56]: you already know that though dont you

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

☎️ (Jolie)

PUT ☎ IN MY ASK FOR YOUR MUSES INFO IN MY MUSES PHONE || @altrxistisms

NAME: Jolie

RINGTONE: The piano version of Pinocchio’s When You Wish Upon A Star because he keeps wishing upon a start that she’ll outlive him lol

PICTURE: 

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: [9:32 PM] OMG!!!!! uhmMhmmM toward the back???

LAST TEXT SENT: [9:29 PM] dropped by to get groceries so I’m also getting tickets for the movie. what seats do you want?

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

@thisgreynoise

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Jackie:

Jolie was stubborn, and as much as Jacqueline liked to think she could get the smaller girl to reveal what she was hiding, she wasn’t so sure Jolie would spit it out. It was nearly inevitable that the flower girl could hide the fact that she was hiding something very poorly, but you’d have to pry this secret from her cold, dead hands. And Jacqueline didn’t plan on touching any dead hands today.

Plus, if she was going to pry something off Jolie, she’d rather it be something more concrete rather than a thought.

The way Jolie reacted only made Jacqueline grin. The nerves, backing up against he counter and looking like she was about to reveal the reality of extraterrestrial life— when in fact, all Jacqueline was asking was that Jolie tell her who sent the flowers. It did cross Jacqueline’s mind that it could be Jolie herself, but that idea was utterly ridiculous. Why would Jolie send her flowers. Jacqueline might be human enough to fall in love, but she wasn’t stupid enough to expect her feelings to be reciprocated. Besides, dating a girl would be a huge mess. At least if her parents found out about it.

When Jolie finally opened her mouth to speak, Jacqueline expected a very classic guy name to come out of them.

But that wasn’t what came out.

That wasn’t what came out at all.

Jacqueline made it awkward with her initial silence. She simply looked at Jolie, surprise in her eyes but not on her face, and waited until the flower girl herself finally ran out of words to say. Jacqueline could think of a million replies: How could someone not like you back? Oh, I don’t like you; I only think I’m in love with you. These flowers didn’t stand a chance; they’d never be as beautiful as you.

But did Jacqueline say any of those things?

No— not at all. Instead, she took Jolie’s face in her hands, pulling her in, and kissed her full on the mouth.

Selfish. That’s what Jolie was. Selfish. Utterly selfish. To spring this out on Jackie. To admit this thing -- this huge thing and not even take what Jackie would feel into account. She wanted a clean up on aisle three of all the word vomit that had fallen onto the flower shop floor, maybe stick all of it back inside her mouth. Choke on it. She wanted to leave. She wanted to watch Blue is the Warmest Color under her bed covers and cry because she was so selfish.

She just wanted her to know. But, it was better off for her not to. Curiosity killed the cat, it may as well have killed Jackie in the process.

Because she ruined a good thing. She ruined it all. Right?

Jolie only had less than a millisecond to process what was going on before she felt Jackie’s plump lips against hers. She let out a whimper. A whimper of victory! Absolute victory! And, well - because kissing Jackie was better than she expected it to be. Her hands were so soft against her warm face, she wanted the imprints of it to remain on her face forever. Her lips were ones to write endless amounts of poetry about, and how much ardor was in it as if it wasn’t enough. It really wasn’t to Jolie either. Jolie was absolutely avid. Which is why she grabbed Jackie’s short locks and ran them through her fingers. Soft. Everything was so soft about her. Her other hand was on her waist, wooden counter scratching her hip be damned - she needed to be closer to Jackie. 

She also needed to breathe... fuck, had she been holding her breath this entire time? She had to pat herself on the back for that later. With hesitation, she pulled away, remaining close to her and looking at her as much as she could through her fogged up glasses.

"Sosoft,you’resosoft.” She muttered, mostly to herself. She grabbed her hand and kissed the ends of each of her fingertips, never ceasing eye contact with her before placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand.

“...Um, I guess it’s not that far-fetched to say you like m-me too... would it?” 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

“I can live with that, you know.” She teased, giving him a small nudge on the shoulder. “Hmm...don’t make fun of me but I’m going to all philosophical Jolie on you again... but, honestly. I don’t think there are wishes too big for a star. They’re that powerful. In a way, wishes... they’re beautiful, they’re dreams. Dreams deserve to come true. At least to the best people.” She looked at him. “Do you?”

❝ If you could wish on a star right now, what would you wish for? ❞ (From Alan)

Jolie quite literally had to bite her tongue to keep from replying a cynical ‘working lungs.’ Her dry humor could be uncomfortable at times… but it gave her time to ponder on it… and something cheesy, it was. She turned to him with a teasing smile and a shake of the head. “If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.” But, it did. He was her wish. 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Alan:

Alan and free time were not a common combination. Between taking care of his sister, doing his mom’s chores, checking up on Jackie, and rehearsing for any play the school had to offer, he barely had time to study– let alone do something else. But when you cared about someone, you made time for them. And sure, maybe Alan had cut down on sleep even more, and maybe he studied only 70% of the material required for his quiz tomorrow, and maybe he dusted the apartment only half-heartedly, but in the end, all these little pieces taken away from insignificant parts of his life had given way to time during which he could hang out with his favourite five-foot French-Canadian.

Alan didn’t know if there were many five-foot French-Canadians out there, at least not ones who came directly from France, but he knew this: When he said Jolie was his favourite, he meant it.

The way she clung to him was endearing. It was as if she was drowning and he was a lifeboat; as if she was a child and he was her adult protector; or as if Jolie was an adorable five-foot French-Canadian and he was the love of her life.

Alan didn’t want to make assumptions. God forbid he made wrong assumptions and messed this up. But honestly? It was becoming increasingly hard to bottle up the emotions Jolie brought out, the smittenness and the sense of happiness so intense it overflowed. He enjoyed being with Jolie more than he enjoyed being with his theatre friends, and he enjoyed being in the frame of her camera just as much as he enjoyed being on stage. And he found that, despite the fact that this precious girl was dying, she didn’t give him a sense of dread. He would never admit it, but his mother, his sister, and his best friend all channelled a sense of dread through Alan. He cared about them enough to let their problems get to him. But Jolie? He did care about her – probably enough for her problems to get to him, too – but she had this way of making every minute he spent with her so wonderful that he could only see himself being happy that he ever got the privilege of knowing her.

“We can see any of those places next time,” he assured her. His smile didn’t for a second betray how heavy his heart felt. It didn’t feel heavy in a bad way– more in the sense of how a plastic spoon would feel heavier if it were full of honey.

Absently, he rubbed Jolie’s shoulder as he gathered his courage. There was always a possibility that this was a terrible idea, but his heart had swollen so much with the feeling that he couldn’t hold back much longer. Besides, it was right. He just knew it was.

“Jolie?” he called. When she looked up at him, he kissed her.

“Yeah... next time.” She replied wistfully. She felt nostalgia for moments that hadn’t even happened yet; but that was just the effect Alan always seemed to have on her. Jolie loved to be around Alan. He didn’t judge her when she cried over movies she had already seen thousands of times prior, he didn’t seem embarrassed every time she would burst out into Fleetwood Mac songs (that she’d dedicate to him, but he didn’t need to know), he made her smile and laugh at the stupidest things, he made her extremely happy. 

It was completely sudden when she realized that she began to like Alan. Really sudden. The thing is, when she did, she didn’t do anything about it in the way that it wasn’t that she feared rejection. It was that she never expected more from him. She didn’t want to come onto him. Alan being her friend was more than Jolie could ever ask for. She could have that and be content forever. 

But, it was moments like these where she couldn’t help but wonder how his hand felt intertwined with hers. If he was good at cuddling. If, even for a second, would he have ever reciprocated... No. That was never in her intentions. Despite how he rubbed her shoulder seemed to leave her entire body coddled with this warmth that she never wanted to go away. Yes. Yes. She could have this... for a moment.

Jolie? She gave him a content hum and prepared herself to be met with his eyes, but never with... A kiss. 

Thing is, Jolie had never been kissed before. Had never kissed anyone. She imagined it to be perfect, never in a fish aquarium. Suddenly, she wishes she was at the space museum. So, she could kiss Starboy under the stars... but for some odd reason, that didn’t matter. Because, holy shit, Alan is kissing her. Alan likes her... she thinks, she hopes, kissing someone equates to liking them?

She didn’t even get to kiss back as he begun to pull away, to which she grabbed onto his arms for support because her knees were giving out - and also, this was happening again. Alan could not pull this on her out of nowhere without her giving him her well-practiced spiel... or word vomit, whatever sounded nicer. “You’re not real. You’re like not real. I catch myself sometimes contemplating if you are. You’re like the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen and I really don’t understand why you just did that. To me. Of all people, but that self-loath speech is for another time. Alan Ashmore, you can not pull this shit on me and not give me enough time to kiss back, that’s like... not chivalrous at all, Alan Ashmore. Especially for my first kiss.” She began to laugh, clutching onto his collar tighter, and just looking at him. “I swear, it’s like... you put up the stars or something.” 

Starboy.

Her chest was heaving and her heart was going to jump out of her chest, but she looked at him and then traveled her look down to his lips. Licked her own. Fluttered her eyes closed. Leaned her head. Tippy-toed. Clutched his collar even tighter. Leaned in. And kissed him. Kissed him again. And again. And then clutched his face with her hands and kissed him again. And kissed him both cheeks, on the tip of his nose, on the space between his eyebrows because she couldn’t reached his forehead but it was the thought that counted, okay. She kissed his chin before kissing him again on the lips. Kissing... she understood the concept. She understood why people liked it. 

Jolie pulled away slightly and looked at him. “I really like you, Alan Ashmore.” 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Emmanuel:

Emmanuel chuckled but went to pick up Adonis, “I can see that, but don’t worry. I’ll get sleeping beauty into bed and then we can order Chinese.” He gave a wink to Jolie as he headed to the bedroom to place Adonis on the bed, covering him with the blanket he pressed a kiss to Adonis’s forehead before returning to the living room and pulling out his cell phone.

“It’s also very nice to meet you kiddo, don’t worry. We’ll get you a stepping stool, and if you want I can teach you to cook. Since I’ll be home for a long while now, I’m taking a sabbatical.” Emmanuel dialled the number to his and Adonis’s favourite Chinese place quickly placing their order.

“So how are you settling in? Have you found a school you like yet?” Emmanuel patted the couch cushion next to him.

Chinese. Chinese was good. Jolie loved Chinese food. Chinese food meant she didn't have to get up on that stool of near-death for a while, thank you very much. Plus, cereal was meant to be a breakfast food, nothing more. She felt the bundle of nerves subside slightly - Emmanuel was very reassuring. She liked him already.

“I...trust me-” She began to explain that teaching Jolie how to cook was a dead end but for some reason, he provided her with some strange sense of calmness. She gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’d like that very much... any reason for this sabbatical?” She began to ask as she made her way over to him as if she had known him for years. 

Her heart was still jumpy and she was still on edge but she knew it would go away later. “It’s been really good, Adonis has been... really amazing with everything. I told him I’d like to stay at the same school I’d been going to. It’s that small liberal arts college nearby? I... I write!” 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Jackie:

Was Jacqueline going to kiss Jolie right in the middle of class and in front of everyone? Yes– maybe she was. There was no way, after all, that either her parents would find out. Even if Jacqueline kissed her in front of their calculus teacher, he might have been angrier about Jacqueline not taking a seat than about Jacqueline kissing a girl in his class. Really, she doubted the man cared about anything but keeping his memory intact enough to never forget to assign homework.

But it just didn’t happen. That didn’t mean Jacqueline didn’t sit next to Jolie. It also didn’t mean she couldn’t hear her. While Jolie talked, Linda began to mumble in Jacqueline’s mind. She tried to concentrate on the flower girl’s words, but between that and calculus and Linda, Jacqueline wasn’t so sure she heard every word correctly.

But the memory of Jolie saying “Sunflowers” and “roses” hit her in the face the next week when she found those two exact specimens of flowers in her locker. She didn’t need Jolie to find out what they meant this time: Jacqueline put them back in her locker and skipped a bit of first class for the sake of going to the library. There, she went on Google for a moment to check their meanings. Roses symbolised love and beauty. Sunflowers symbolised loyalty and longevity. The theme of all the flowers that had been sent to Jacqueline was obvious. What wasn’t obvious was who sent them.

She didn’t bring them up. She could tell Jolie was waiting for her to do so, but she pretended she hadn’t even received them. At the end of the day, though, Jacqueline took them out of her locker and went home. Shortly after a shower, she headed for the flower shop Jolie worked in.

She wanted to know.

“Pretty flower girl,” Jacqueline sang as she went in, but there was no smile on her face. She held out the rose and sunflower and stopped in front of Jolie, barely leaving any space between them. “Shady, shady flower girl. Do you know who keeps sending these? Because I’m tired of the fact that this is something I don’t know. I don’t care who it is. I just want to know so I can move on the the next mystery of my life, and that is whether you’ll be my roommate or not.”

She gathered up all the courage she had when she heard the bells chime - signaling someone had come into the flower shop. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Jackie. She would be lying if she didn’t lay in bed the previous night playing out different scenarios as to how this would end. There was the possibility of her ruining her friendship with her, forever. But, there was also the possibility of her coming in her and kissing her senseless - pinned against all the flowers that were as lovely as her. She liked that one better than the latter. 

But, what she didn’t expect was what happened. Luck was never on her side.

The proximity that they were to each other had Jolie feeling quite claustrophobic. Not uncomfortable, never uncomfortable. But, vulnerable. Open. For her to see. The edge of the cashier counter indented Jolie’s tiny waist and she leaned forward for a sting, to remind herself that she was here. She put herself in this situation. She needed to relax, which she tried - she really did but her glasses were fogging up her vision and she’s pretty sure she’d have a bruise on her hip later. It was absolutely suffocating.

Shady? She wasn’t pretty anymore? Before she contemplated further, she listened to Jackie before tuning her out again because yes. She should care because it was her. This person was her. And maybe that sounded selfish, but Jolie was tired of stolen glances, what-ifs, and Math being a killjoy. 

She wanted to cuddle her, build forts and cuddle her in them and shield her from the world, she wanted to make playlists about her, and give her an infinite amount of flowers and say it’s from her.

So, she should care.

But, then - roommates. Roommates. 

It’d be hard to be in love with a roommate of yours, so...

“Only if you accept the fact that I’ve been sending you those flowers and that I like you.” 

Way to be fucking subtle, Jolie.

“Like, a lot.” 

Radio silence.

“It’s okay if you don’t, I’m way past the point of reciprocation but I needed... I really needed you to know.” 

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

[altrxistisms-archive-blog]

Alan: 

He…really did lose her. How could he lose her?! Actually, the better question was, how could someone not lose a cute five-foot girl in a crowded aquarium. Alan would have been easier to spot himself if he’d been above-average height, but he was just a shaggy teenager standing at approximately 5 feet and 10 inches. The fact that nearly every other person enjoying the starfish exhibit had brown hair wasn’t much help, either.

He looked around, checking the same spots again and again. A lady asked him if he’d lost a kid, and he admitted that no, he’d just lost his friend. That earned him a laugh, but it didn’t help him find Jolie. That is until his gaze fell on the door to see the silhouette of a rather short person walking out. That must be her!

He made way to the other side of the room. Once away from the crowd, he picked up his pace and entered the next exhibit. It didn’t get as much attention as the starfish, but…hell, why didn’t it? It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as the girl halfway across the room staring at the collection of fish with her curious eyes.

Jolie was so cute.

Alan approached her without making any noise, waiting for her to notice him. When she did, he gave her a large grin with a side of sarcasm. “Actually, you lost me, and I found you. Shortie.” He didn’t care that she was recording. Alan moved out of frame, stepping closer so he could poke her nose. “Don’t let that discourage you, though. You’re not just any shortie. You’re my shortie.”

“I’d like to argue that further with you, but let’s make a compromise and say we found each other.” She returned the grin as dopily, probably even more, because. Yep. The cheesiest thing that she could possibly think of she said, and she couldn’t take it back. It was there now. 

And who was Jolie without her cheesiness? 

My shortie. Wow, she had hoped that she caught that on camera. She had hoped that it rang as beautifully on tape than it did with the real thing. It probably didn’t, the real thing she could see his face since he, to Jolie’s dismay, moved out of frame. His face said it all. It was what brought what seemed to be a permanent flush on her cheeks. A love-punched look on her face. Absolutely smitten. Jolie was so obviously touch-deprived and it showed in the little things Alan did and how much she appreciated them.

How she would lean into his touch longer than usual. Relish in the moment. For something as small as a tap on the nose. 

“Your shortie.” She replied softly, looking down to see the camera still recording, so she quickly hit stop. “Sorry for leaving you out there, it gets crowded. I did want to come find you though. You would think how much of a giant you are, it’d be easy to.” Jolie subconsciously wrapped her arm around his before heaving a huge sigh. “I’m sorry, this was lame. I should have taken you to a museum or... there’s this cool space museum where it’s a room filled with stars.” God, why didn’t she think of that before? Jolie tucked herself into his side further, before looking up at him. She contemplated making another trite pick-up line about how dumb it would be to go to a museum when Alan was already art himself - but she had enough of herself for one day. 

“I got a lot of good footage, though!”