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doorbellvibes · 16 days ago

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Normal

@doorbellvibes @shrimptacodaniels my fellow roomies <3

It had just been a normal day.

Well- Maybe not a normal day, exactly. What even was normal, with Dust, Raffa, and Sasha? Dust sure as hell didn’t know. Abnormal was their normal, maybe. What was Dust talking about, again? Right. It had been as normal a day as it could be. Dust had come back from busking, to find a note from Raffa and Sasha saying that they had gone to the store to grab some groceries, and would be back later. Dust was on the couch, watching The Matrix- the coolest movie of all time, just for the record. Or, second coolest, maybe. The Terminator was cool, too. And Underworld. And Blade. And Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Okay- If there were vampires, it was probably cool. Or badass people in long, black coats and sunglasses. Lots of movies were cool. But The Matrix was definitely up there. And- And it was a nice thing to watch, as Dust waited for his roommates- his friends- his family -to come back from the store. His guitar was sitting next to the couch, and he was haphazardly counting the money he had got busking as slow motion action passed on the tv in front of him, and-

And then the door opened, revealing Sasha and Raffa, seeming more normally abnormal then, well, normal.

“Oh my god,” Sasha said, as he and Raffa practically ran inside. He was grinning, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sasha, but- It was even wider of a grin than normal. “Oh my god!”

“Let us get our shoes off before we start freaking out,” Raffa said, shaking her head.

“Why would we wait?” Sasha asked, still sounding way too excited for just having gone to the store.

“What is happening right now?” Dust asked, looking between his two roommates with a baffled look on his face. “Did they have Pop Tarts on sale?”

“Who cares about Pop Tarts?” Sasha asked, as he began putting groceries away “Something way better happened.”

“A sale on chocolate?” Dust asked, eyes wide, as he walked over to the kitchen to help put stuff away.

“Even better than chocolate,” Sasha said.

“What’s better than chocolate?” Dust genuinely asked.

“It’s insane,” Sasha said, as he passed Raffa a block of butter to put in the fridge. They had been going through a ton of butter, ever since Dust had found out that Sash and Raff thought that baking was ‘the coolest thing ever’. “Totally insane.”

“Just tell him,” Raffa said, shaking her head.

“Yeah!” Dust agreed, excited. What the hell was better than chocolate? “Just tell me!”

“It’s insane.” Sasha repeated. He turned to look at Raffa.

“It is insane,” Raffa agreed. “And kind of creepy.”

Sasha nodded. “You’re right. A little bit creepy. But mostly just crazy.”

“What the hell did you buy at the store?” Dust asked.

“We didn’t buy anything special,” Sasha said. “We met someone.”

“Danielle, again, really?” Dust asked.

Raffa groaned. “No. And we didn’t meet them, Sash. We just- saw them. From afar.”

“A celebrity?” Dust asked, confused. When had this become twenty questions?

“Okay, well, that’s because you said that walking up to a complete stranger was creepy,” Sasha replied to Raffa, with a dramatic pout as he put away an ungodly amount of jars of pickles into the cupboard.

“That’s because it is creepy,” Raffa replied.

“Who did you see?” Dust asked. He needed to know. And, more importantly- “Were they cool?”

“Nope,” Sasha said. “Kind of the opposite of cool, actually.”

“Then why do I even care?” Dust asked, with a dramatic sigh as he put away the empty grocery bag.

“Because,” Raffa said, still sounding way too excited about this. “It was the most normal looking guy ever.”

“Except,” Sasha continued. “He looked exactly like you! Same face, same eyes, obviously no grey hair, but-”

Just like that, Dust knew exactly who Raffa and Sasha were talking about. There was no other explanation, no other person who looked like Dust but ‘normal’. It was his twin brother, older than Dust by six and a half minutes, Jason. Fucking Jason. The perfect kid, who fit into Dust’s family easily, unlike Dust. He wore knitted sweaters and beige and drank tea. He liked math classes and tax season and was Valedictorian in high school. Dust hadn’t seen him since he’d gone off to college, and it seemed like he must have come back for a visit with their parents- And Dust felt like throwing up in his mouth. He was here. He was obviously back for some sort of break, it was nearly Thanksgiving, wasn’t it? And nobody had even told Dust. But he was here, that was for sure. There was no one else who looked like Dust but, well, normal. So he was here. Dust’s twin was here, and the two people that mattered most to Dust in this world had met him, and-

“Isn’t that crazy?” Sasha asked, after a second. “Like- he looked exactly like you.”

“Except with worse hair,” Raffa replied.

“And a fucking ugly mustache,” Sasha said.

Dust nodded, not really thinking. It was a fucking ugly mustache.

“He was even wearing a sweater with the elbow pads,” Sasha continued. “Who the hell even wears those anymore?”

“Apparently that guy,” Raffa said. She shook her head. “He must be Dust’s kooky professor ancestor who time traveled in from the 1920s.”

“He did look like he would wear a top hat,” Sasha said, nodding seriously. “Get him some goggles, too.”

“Steam punk normie Dust!” Raffa exclaimed.

The two of them descended into laughter, unable to stop. They kept laughing, grabbing their stomachs and getting tears in their eyes, for nearly two whole minutes, until-

“Dust?” Raffa asked, suddenly no longer laughing.

“You’re not laughing,” Sasha said, continuing Raffa’s point. “Or giggling. Or even smiling.

“Are you okay?” Raffa finished.

And- was Dust okay? No, he wasn’t. At all. Because- because Jason was never supposed to be someone Sasha and Raffa knew about. That was a seperate- a separate world. There was the world with Dust’s family, where he was just a black sheep rebellious teenager who needed to grow up- and there was the world his roommates knew. Where his family was dead. Where he was plagued by ghosts. Where he was born in a lab and also a werewolf and also a vampire and also whatever he needed to be in that moment. A world where Dust was cool. And Dust liked the world he lived in with his roommates. And yet- And yet, here Jason was, ruining that, too. Fucking Jason wasn’t even supposed to be in Mountport anymore, and yet, he was. And he was ruining the perfect, cool world that Dust had built for himself.

“Dust?” Sasha asked, this time, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“He’s my clone,” Dust blurted out, without even thinking about it. “That- that guy at the grocery store. He’s my clone. Definitely. Yeah. My clone.”

“Your clone?” Raffa asked.

“Or- no. I’m his clone, actually,” Dust continued to ramble. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them the truth. Even if he knew- and he did know, mostly- that they would think he was cool either way, he couldn’t bear to tell them the truth. He just couldn’t. “I was made in a lab, after he was born.”

“Right,” Sasha said. “So- you know the guy who looks exactly like you?”

“But completely uncool,” Raffa added.

“I’ve known him my entire life,” Dust said. It was the closest to the truth he could manage to get out of his mouth.

“Because you’re his clone,” Sasha said, slowly.

Dust nodded, still feeling like choking.

“And how- how much after he was born, were you grown in a lab?” Raffa asked.

“Six minutes,” Dust admitted. “Well, six and a half.”

Raffa and Sasha shared a look. Dust wasn’t sure how much they understood, but- but Dust trusted that they understood enough. Just like he trusted them not to push for more than he was willing to give. Anyone else would have said that cloning didn’t exist, or that Dust didn’t make any sense, but- But his roommates never did. They simply took what Dust was willing to give them, and it was enough. Even when it didn’t make sense. Even when it was something that a ‘normal’ person wouldn’t ever say. Even when it was the truth, but a truth covered in lies and lies to make Dust feel safe- and cool- enough to admit it. They just understood. They always understood. Even now, Dust knew, they understood. And that was one thing his family, his parents, his brother, could never give him. Understanding. But his roommates?

“Okay,” Raffa said, as casual as anything. “Okay, cool. You’re a clone. Good to know.”

“What’s his name?” Sasha asked, excitedly, like he was dying to know.

“Jason,” Dust said, shaking his head. “His- his name is Jason.”

Raffa laughed. “His name is fucking Jason?”

“Yeah,” Dust said.

“And why haven’t we ever seen Fucking Jason before?” Raffa asked.

“We do spend a lot of time in Mountport,” Sasha said. “Kinda surprising we didn’t know you had a- were a clone. With another, less cool you, running around.”

Dust relaxed, leaning on the counter. It was easier to talk, when talking about his ‘clone’.

“He moved away,” Dust said. “Off to go become a lawyer.”

“A defence attorney?” Raffa asked.

“A white collar crime lawyer,” Dust answered, with disdain in his voice. “On the side of corporations.”

“Fucking Jason the corporate lawyer,” Sasha said, shaking his head.

“Probably doesn’t even jaywalk,” Raffa added, with overdramatic disgust.

“He doesn’t,” Dust confirmed. “Doesn’t even pirate movies.”

“What?” Sasha asked, nearly yelling.

“Does he even live?” Raffa asked.

“No,” Dust said. He laughed, and then shook his head, growing serious once again. There was- there was still a little doubt, in his heart. Stuck in his throat. “You don’t mind that I- I’m a clone? Or that I didn’t tell you?”

“It’s definitely a shock,” Raffa said. “But you told us now.”

“I just wish you told us earlier,” Sasha said.

Dust froze, waiting for the anger. Of course they were angry, he should have told them earlier-

“We could have been making fun of Fucking Jason for way longer,” Sasha continued, with a smile.

Dust exhaled, relaxing again. “I guess we just have to make up for lost time.”

“Yes!” Sasha said, with a grin. “I should have Beverly get Fucking Jason to join a pyramid scheme.”

“What would Fucking Jason even be interested in to join a scheme?” Raffa asked. “Fancy pens?”

“Terrible sweaters?” Dust added.

“Pins that say ‘I hate crime’,” Sasha continued.

“Or ‘I hate fun’,” Dust offered.

“Supplements to make you even more normal,” Raffa said. “Normal vitamins.”

“Garden variet-amins,” Sasha said. The pun barely worked, but Dust was grinning anyway.

“Run of the pill!” Raffa exclaimed. “Like- Run of the mill. But-”

“We get it, Raff,” Sasha said.

“Like ‘variet-amins’ was any better,” Raffa said, with a huff.

Sasha gasped, clutching at his heart dramatically. “You wound me! Vartiet-amins was a perfect pun.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Raffa said.

“It really wasn’t,” Dust added.

“Rude!” Sasha said. “I guess I’ll trap your clone in a pyramid scheme without you, then!”

Dust laughed, unable to stop himself.

He laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed. Raffa and Sasha joined in, too, and all three of them were laughing, completely unable to stop. It wasn’t that one thing in particular had been funny- It was this whole situation. Dust was laughing because he finally had people to make fun of fucking Jason with. People who liked him, better than his ‘normal’ twin. Dust was laughing because it all felt so normal, even when Dust told them something he had never expected to admit. He had planned on hiding his ‘normal’ family forever, and yet- here they were, not caring about them more than a joke. Dust was laughing because, quite frankly, he felt relieved. He felt loved. He felt like he mattered.

And, more than anything, Dust felt understood.

#CACKLING #unparalleled comedic lines left and right #the capitalization on Fucking Jason coming immediately after raffa says ’fucking… Jason’ Once takes me out #perfect h/c. delicious #roommates

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doorbellvibes · 24 days ago

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Pain and Panic, Part Two

CW: More illness stuff, in a hospital now, identity issues

Sasha was not a person who panicked.

Or, no, that wasn’t quite right, was it? Beverly, the pilates queen, never panicked. Matthias Kellogs, the heir to a cereal fortune, never panicked. Gavin Mario, the creator of Luigi, but not Mario, never panicked. Suzie Margarita, an award winning bartender, never panicked. Lorelai Romantic, the owner of a small seaside bookstore who got repairs by the very handsome repair person next door, never panicked. Winston Parishvalley, the definitely-not-a-war-criminal never panicked. Edgar O’Needles, a doctor and tattoo artist, never panicked. Robin Sparrow, the professional bird watcher who discovered five different kinds of birds, never panicked. Sir Sour Patch, heir to a candy empire and a legal knight, never panicked. None of Sasha’s other identities ever panicked. They were cool as a cucumber. But Sasha?

Sasha panicked. And Sasha- Sasha panicked especially, when people he cared about got hurt.

Beverly didn’t have people she cared about. Gavin didn’t have people he cared about. Suzie Margarita didn’t have anyone they cared about. People knew them, sure, and they made connections- But they never really cared. Because they were identities, not actual people. So they never needed to panic, because nothing they did ever actually mattered. If something went wrong, they could just- stop existing. And no one ever really mattered to them, apart from a source of fun and gossip. They were untethered. They were unmoored. They were uncaring. But Sasha cared. Sasha- despite his best attempts, if he was being quite honest, at being a one man show, he cared about people. Specifically, Dust and Raffa, these days. His roommates. And-

And Sasha was panicking, right now, because Dust was hurt. Dust was sick. Dust was maybe- kind of- not really- possibly dying. And Sasha was panicking.

Of course, he was trying his best to keep it under control. No use panicking when they had to worry about getting Dust to the ER. It wouldn’t do them any good if they got into a car crash before they could even get to the hospital, because Sasha was too full of panic to not pay attention to the road. And, besides, once they got to the ER it would all be fine, right? Sasha could panic once they actually got him to the hospital. And seeing a doctor. He could panic once they actually knew what was wrong. Yeah. For now, Sasha just had to breathe, and drive the car, and make sure they didn’t crash. Raffa was in charge of making sure Dust didn’t get worse, and playing music on the radio, and making sure Sasha didn’t forget where the damn hospital was. But- They got through it. They drove, and Sasha felt bad every single time Dust groaned in the car, and-

And now Dust was at the ER, seeing a nurse, several nurses, in record time- which was never good- and Sasha was panicking. Really panicking.

“Okay,” the nurse said, after having pressed on Dust’s stomach. “Yeah. There’s definitely something wrong.”

“Obviously something’s wrong,” Sasha snapped. Or- nearly snapped. He didn’t want to be mad at the nurse, but- “He’s in pain.”

“And that’s why we came here,” Raffa said, grabbing Sasha’s hand.

“You’re overreacting,” Dust said, even though his voice was clearly pained, just like it had been for the last half hour. “This isn’t nearly as bad as the time that I got ran over by a truck.”

The nurse’s eyes widened. “That isn’t in your chart.”

“Ignore that,” Sasha and Raffa said, at the same time.

“That’s medically relevant,” the nurse said, slowly.

“But it didn’t actually happen,” Raffa said, kind of whispering so Dust wouldn’t hear her.

Dust, of course, heard her.

“It totally happened,” Dust said, way too loud. “And I fell off a mountain. And-”

“Ignore him,” Sasha said, as he toyed with the bracelet around Raffa’s wrist.

“Is this lapse from reality a symptom?” The nurse asked, sounding very clearly confused.

Sometimes, all the time, Sasha forgot that people didn’t automatically know

“It’s not a lapse from reality,” Raffa said. “He knows what reality is.”

“He just likes his better,” Sasha added.

Dust sniffed. “My reality is the real reality. Obviously. Definitely.”

“And this- how long has this been going on?” The nurse asked.

“It’s nothing,” Raffa said.

“It’s just how Dust is,” Sasha added. He tapped his foot on the ground. Not anxiously, just- okay. Maybe a little anxiously. A lot anxiously. A- “Now, is he going to be okay, or not?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” the nurse said, like she was talking to a child. “And why I need to know if the mental confusion is a symptom of the pain.”

“It’s not mental confusion!” Sasha- okay, time he had snapped. “And it’s not compulsive lying, either. That’s just how Dust is.”

Sasha and Raffa shared a look. It was the ‘I can tell you’re not okay and just saying anything’ look, which was rude. True, but rude.

“Go take a walk,” Raffa said. “I’ve got Dust.”

“I’ve got myself,” Dust grumbled. “I’m the coolest guy ever.”

“You are,” Sasha promised.

“And Sasha is the jumpiest guy ever,” Raffa added.

Sasha scowled at Raffa, dramatically clutching his chest. “You wound me, Raff.”

“Just go get Dust a coffee, or something,” Raffa said.

“Dustin cannot have any food or drink until we figure out if he needs surgery,” the nurse said.

Dust pouted. Sasha grimaced. Raffa sighed.

“His name’s Dust,” Sasha and Raffa said at the same time.

“Right,” the nurse said, slowly. “My point still stands. No coffee.”

“This is torture,” Dust declared.

“It’s health care,” Sasha rebutted. Still, he turned back to the nurse. “Will he need surgery? Do you even know what’s wrong with him? Is he going to-”

“Then get yourself a coffee,” Raffa said, cutting Sasha off before he could give this poor nurse an aneurysm.

He knew it wasn’t fair, at all, but- Sasha was panicking. Sasha was panicking, and Dust was hurt, and-

“Or hell- get me a coffee. Or a tea, maybe,” Raffa continued. She blinked, and then nodded to herself. “A very highly caffeinated tea. I am not used to staying up this late.”

Sasha sighed. If Raffa was tired, then maybe Sasha should go and get her something. “Fine. I’ll go scope out the cafeteria. Please make sure that Dust doesn’t die. Or bite any doctors. Or nurses. Definitely not nurses.”

“What?” The nurse asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Dust bared his teeth, biting down on the air, as if to prove a point. Sasha held in a giggle. Even sick, and in pain, and killing Sasha with worry, Dust was still so damn adorable.

“I’ve got this,” Raffa repeated, practically shoving Sasha away from them.

So, okay, Sasha was getting coffee. Panicking, and getting coffee. And tea. He could do that. If there was one thing Sasha could do, it was get coffee. And tea. And explore the ER. And- Okay, maybe Raff had been right. She so often was. Sasha kind of did need the break. It sucked, being away from Dust when he was hurt, but also getting away from it kind of- helped. It didn’t actually stop Sasha from panicking, or anything, one of them was hurt, of course Sasha was going to panic- But it gave him something else to think about. It got him away from the poor nurse he was snapping at. It let him move, instead of having to sit on the arm of Raffa’s chair. If he thought they could get away with it, he probably would have curled up on Raff, just to feel better. But- Now he was on a walk, instead. To feel better. And to get coffee. And, honestly, getting coffee probably would help Sasha. Not because of caffeine, but because it let Sasha talk to the barista. And if there was one thing that Sash was good at it, when it felt like he was good at doing nothing, right now- It was talking to people.

“Can I get a name for your order?” The barista asked.

“Serine Von Tranquil,” Sasha said, pulling the name out of his ass.

“Neat name,” the barista said, as she scribbled the name on the cup. Sasha was pretty sure the place was too small to need names, but- “Your parents really into peace, or something?”

“They were yoga teachers,” Sasha lied, easily. “Honestly surprised they didn’t name me Zen.”

“That would’ve been easier to write,” the barista replied, smoothly.

It was easier to breathe, when Sasha was being someone else. Serine Von Tranquil never panicked. It- This was what Sasha needed, right now.

“Hey, I could’ve had a longer name,” Serine teased. “Or harder to spell.”

“Like what?” The barista asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Unflappable,” Serine replied. “Or halcyon.”

“Halcyon?” The barista asked.

Serine nodded. “It’s a word.”

“And do you know what that word means?” The barista asked. She had finished Sasha’s coffee, but was still working on Raffa’s tea.

“It’s a secret,” Serine teased.

“That means you don’t know,” the barista decided.

And she was right. Serine Von Tranquil didn’t know what halcyon meant. Sasha did, but Serine didn’t.

“Maybe,” Serine settled on, with a teasing grin. “Or maybe it's just a secret.”

“You’re funny, you know that?” The barista asked.

“I’ve been told,” Serine said. He smiled, suddenly gaining an idea. “Hey- Is there any gossip going around? Any drama?”

The barista just laughed. She shoved both drinks at Serine. “I’ll tell you the next time you buy coffee from here.”

“You want me to spend more time in the ER?” Serine asked. “That kind of sounds like a threat.”

“It’s not a threat,” the barista said, shaking her head as she laughed again. “It’s an invitation.”

“I might just take you up on that,” Serine said, as he slunk away with his coffee and his tea.

And then Serine melted away, and Sasha was Sasha again. Serine hadn’t been panicking- But Sasha was. Sasha was definitely panicking. He was panicking and holding two very hot beverages, one in each hand, which probably wasn’t a great combination. Still, being Serine for a bit had calmed him down. A bit. Kind of. He was definitely calmer, that just didn’t mean that Sasha was actually calm. But- But still, he felt a bit better. And he had two very hot drinks in his hands, so he definitely needed to find Raff. He walked back the way he came, thankful for his sense of direction because every damn hallway in this hospital looked the same. Still, after a few minutes of walking- and only two wrong turns- he found Raffa. She was leaning against a wall, right next to the room where Dust had been- but there was no Dust in sight. Or any nurses.

“Where’s Dust?” Sasha asked, practically yelling across the waiting room. Who had time to wait to be close enough to speak, when Dust was missing. “Did he escape to live in the vents?”

Raffa tried to hide her laugh behind her hand, but Sasha saw it. “No. He’s off getting a CT scan.”

“Oh,” Sasha said, at a normal volume.

He walked up to Raffa at only a kind of fast pace.

“I got you a chai,” Sasha said, offering a cup to Raff, once he was close enough. “It looked decent enough to me.”

“Thanks,” Raffa said. She took a sip, and slumped against the wall with relief. “God, I needed that.”

“Up past your bedtime, huh?” Sasha asked.

“Some of us have to wake up early in the morning,” Raffa said, lightly, but there was a hint of tenseness still in her voice.

Shit, right. Raffa’s class. What day even was it? Sasha couldn’t even remember. “Do you have- you can go home, you know.”

“I’ll get a sub,” Raffa said. “I’m not leaving Dust here. Or you, for that matter.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha lied.

“You’re so not,” Raffa said, gently bumping into Sasha’s shoulder with her own. Luckily, neither of them spilled any drinks. “And neither am I.”

“At least we have drinks,” Sasha said.

“At least we have drinks,” Raffa echoed. “You have fun getting them?”

“Serine Von Tranquil had fun getting them,” Sasha corrected with a smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. “Although, I have yet to get any gossip yet, though.”

“You did learn one piece of gossip,” Raffa corrected.

Sasha tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“You know that the barista thought that you- or rather, ‘Serine’ was cute,” Raffa said.

Sasha blinked. “What?”

“They wrote their number on my cup,” Raffa said, turning it to face Sasha. “With a heart.”

“Oh,” Sasha said. “I might have been laying it on a bit thick, I will admit.”

Raffa laughed. “You were having fun?”

“I needed it,” Sasha admitted. “Thanks for sending me out to get it.”

“Hey, I did that for me,” Raffa joked. “You’re just my caffeine mule.”

“Obviously,” Sasha agreed. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t fall asleep and get drool on the floor.”

Raffa snorted, and started laughing. Sasha joined in. It was sort of- infectious, the laughter. They probably looked insane, laughing at nothing, in a hospital, leaning against the wall when there were a bunch of open chairs in front of them. But this- this is what Sasha needed. Just- to be next to Raff, laughing, knowing that neither of them were calm, but- they were okay enough to laugh. Even if Sasha was still panicking, which, for the record, he definitely was still panicking- But at least he could have this. This laughter, this moment, this- this support from Raff. They stopped laughing, at some point, and instead just kind of- looked at each other, in the silence. And that was good too. They were in the same boat, the silence said. They were always in the same boat, all three of them, and if they weren’t then someone had fallen out of the boat, like that time they’d gone camping- That was neither here nor there. Raffa stared at Sasha. Sasha stared at Raff. They both stared at the spot beside them, where Dust should have been standing.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Sasha asked, breaking the silence.

“They’re pretty sure it’s appendicitis,” Raffa said, instead of answering. “Like you thought.”

“He can still die from that,” Sasha pointed out.

“He’s at the hospital, we caught it early, it hasn’t even ruptured yet,” Raffa said. “He’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” Sasha asked. God. His voice had cracked, when he’d said that.

“I’m sure,” Raffa said. She cracked a bitter smile over the edge of her cup. “Do you really think Dust would let something as uncool as appendicitis kill him?”

Sasha let out a choked laugh. “It isn’t appendicitis. It was a freak wildebeest attack, remember?”

“Where would Dust even find a wildebeest to get attacked by?” Raffa asked. She was laughing now, too. “I’m pretty sure there isn’t a wildebeest at the zoo.”

“If anyone could find a wildebeest in this town, it would be Dust,” Sasha said.

“Although, if there is a wildebeest at the zoo-” Raffa said, trailing off slowly.

“No, Raff, we are not stealing a wildebeest,” Sasha said. “Pinocchio would actually break in and strangle us in our sleep if we tried to keep a wildebeest in the apartment.”

“I didn’t mean steal one,” Raffa said, as if that was obvious. As if Raffa mentioning something, anything, didn’t mean that she wanted to steal it 99.9% of the time. “Although-”

“No stealing from the zoo,” Sasha said. “What were you originally thinking about?”

“Taking Dust there, once this is all over,” Raffa said. “On a weekend, I think. It could be fun.”

Sasha thought about it for a second. Buying ice cream. Oh, Sasha definitely could eat those frozen balls of ice cream right now. Debating which animals to see first. Or- arguing about which animals to see first, in all likelihood. The gift shop. Promptly getting kicked out of the gift shop because they made some sort of absurdist diorama with the stuffed animals, or something. It sounded nice. Really nice, actually. But first they had to get through this. Through Dust being sick. Through Dust being in the hospital. Through- through surgery. Maybe. That was terrifying. That was- Fuck. That was terrifying. That-

“Which animal do you think Dust would declare the coolest?” Sasha said, cutting off his own thoughts.

“The lions,” Raffa said, not even having to think about it.

“Don’t they just sleep all day?” Sasha asked.

“But,” Raffa said, taking a sip of tea for emphasis. “They have a mullet Dust would kill for.”

Sasha snorted. “True.”

“Let’s hope that there’s not a raccoon at the zoo, or else he’d just follow that and not even watch the lions,” Raffa said.

“True,” Sasha said. He shook his head, and then gasped. “Are there wolves at the Mountport zoo? Because Dust would be obsessed with those.”

“Oh no, you’re right,” Raffa said. “He’s such a wolf guy.”

Sasha laughed. “He thinks he’s such a wolf guy. But really, he’s just our little bunny.”

“Our Dust Bunny,” Raffa said, with a soft smile.

Sasha was panicking, he couldn’t deny that.

But- Okay, this might sound weird to say, but it was kind of nice to panic. Not that panicking was fun, or anything. Or that Dust being sick was fun. Dust being sick definitely wasn’t fun. But- How could Sasha put this? It was nice, having people you cared about that you panicked, when you got hurt. That deep seated, in his gut, panic wasn’t fun by any means, but it- It was proof that Sasha cared about Dust. And about Raffa. This was a feeling that none of his aliases had ever felt, or would ever feel. This was something that he couldn’t get, anywhere else. His identities didn’t worry, when people were sick. His identities didn’t have to rush to the hospital with their friends. His identities didn’t have friends there to help him- not stop panicking, but to pause the panic for a moment. He had people to panic about, and people to him when he panicked, and-

And Sasha was panicking, yes, but- But at least he wasn’t alone.

@shrimptacodaniels I hope I captured Sasha pov okay !!! @doorbellvibes

#HEY. HEY.#roommates #exploding. SASHA………#you’re really just drilling down into the core of what makes these guys tick huh #literally the them

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doorbellvibes · 25 days ago

Text

Pain and Panic, Part One

CW: Minor-ish health issues, panic about health, Ignoring health issues

Dust was fine. He was- He was mostly fine, anyway.

He would admit that he was in- in a bit more pain than usual. But. Dust was fine. He was. Mostly. It had started when he’d been busking, half way through the coolest song he’d ever written, when suddenly his stomach had started hurting. Not the nausea that settled deep in his stomach when he forgot to eat, or the dizziness that happened- nearly all of the time. It wasn’t the headache he got from not sleeping enough. Or the weird flips his stomach did after he drank coffee- which, okay, happened a lot, because he drank a lot of coffee. It wasn’t the way he got nauseous when he thought that people thought he wasn’t cool. And it wasn’t the way his hands hurt after a long day of playing guitar. It was a new sort of pain, Dust would admit that much. Still- he might not know this particular, new kind of pain, but- Dust knew pain, in general. That strange, odd feeling of gaining a new symptom or pain, that he was familiar with.

Dust just wasn’t feeling well. That was it. And Dust was used to not feeling well.

So, he kept playing. Dust just had to be careful about where he placed his guitar, or else he would jab it into his stomach wrong and it would hurt like hell. And he had to make sure that when he bent down to look at what change people had dropped in his coffee cup, that hurt his stomach too if he accidentally put pressure on his stomach. And when Dust stood up to walk around and get a coffee and a sandwich during his break, that had hurt too. But- It was fine. He was fine. It didn’t hurt too badly, all things considered. He could still walk. Well- with his rollator, anyway. If he tried with his cane, he’d probably fall over from the pain, but Dust was fine. He was fine. He was fine. He was-

Dust was fine. Dust really was fine. Mostly.

Besides, he wasn’t even on the streets now, anyway. He had made it through his entire time busking, and through two cups of coffee, and through the walk home, without even crying from the pain. That was a win, in Dusk’s book. Crying wasn’t cool. And his prize for making it home without crying was to be, well, home. And by home- by home, Dust meant the apartment, with Sasha and Raffa. Not his parents house, on the other side of the city, in the suburbs with a big white picket fence and window boxes and a doorbell that actually worked- No. Dust was home. He was curled up in the middle of their couch- it may not have been a comfortable couch, but it was theirs- Raffa on one side and Sasha on the other. They had Lion King on the tv, and a half finished box of pizza on the coffee table- with spinach, that Dust had bravely not picked off. And Dust’s stomach still hurt, sure, worse than it had at the beginning, but- He was home. And he was safe. And he was next to Sasha and Raffa.

Besides, Dust was fine. Dust was used to not feeling well, and he was beside his two favourite people in the whole world, and- Dust was just fine.

“It’s the circleeeeeeee of lifeeeeeeeeee,” Sasha yelled out, as loud as anything, singing- or, attempting to sing, at least, along with the movie.

“Why did we put this on again?” Raffa joked.

“Because it’s a masterpiece,” Sasha declared. “A stunning piece of animation and music coming together-”

“You just think that Scar is hot,” Raffa said.

Sasha rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“That’s not a no,” Raffa teased.

“It’s not a yes, either,” Sasha said. “It’s a genuinely stunning piece of animation.”

“And the hyenas are cool,” Dust added. His voice- thankfully- didn’t break from the pain.

Sasha nodded emphatically. “See? The hyenas are cool! It has the Dust seal of approval!”

“And Scar has your seal of approval,” Raffa said, wriggling her eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Sasha cried out.

“Never,” Raffa replied.

He reached over for a piece of popcorn from the bowl on the table, but Raffa picked it up and pulled it away, far on the other side of the couch.

“Seriously?” Sasha asked.

“Popcorn is for people who admit their crushes on animated animals,” Raffa said.

Sasha snorted. “Like you don’t have a crush on Tigress from Kung Fu Panda. ”

“And I admit that,” Raffa said. “I just want you to stop living in shame.”

“I’m not living in shame,” Sasha said, trying and failing to reach, over Dust’s head, for the popcorn bowl . “You’re living in shame.”

“Come on, Sash, live your truth,” Raffa teased. She waved the bowl of popcorn above her head again. “Then you can get popcorn.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Sasha declared.

Sasha climbed on top of Dust, trying to get to where Raffa was holding the popcorn over her head. His knee dug into Dust’s stomach, and-

“Ow!” Dust cried out, before he could stop himself.

Fuck. Cool guys did not say ‘ow’. They grimaced stoically. Or something like that, anyway. Dust couldn’t really think about being cool when Sasha’s knee was hurting him this badly.

“Dust?” Raffa said, slowly.

“Shit,” Sasha said, a second later. He pulled all of his weight off of Dust, the popcorn completely forgotten. “Dust- What’s wrong?”

“Is it your head?” Raffa asked. She put down the popcorn, and Sash didn’t even glance at it.

“We can turn the tv off,” Sash added. “And the lights.”

“Pitch black hangout,” Raffa said.

Dust shook his head. It wasn’t his head.

“We ate dinner,” Sasha said. “And you even ate a vegetable. I’m pretty sure.”

“I ate the spinach,” Dust grumbled, though he wasn’t sure how much was actually- like- able to be heard. But, then again, it was Sasha and Raffa. They’d figure it out.

“Then what’s wrong?” Raffa asked.

“Do you need Mobius?” Sasha added. Mobius was Dust’s stuffed rabbit, which was also a heat pack you could put in the microwave. He was awesome, but-

“No,” Dust said. “It’s not- It’s not a pain I’m used to.”

“Then what is it?” Sasha asked.

“What happened?” Raffa added.

Dust looked at Sasha and Dust. And then at the tv, where Lion King was still playing. And then at Sasha and Raffa again.

“I got trampled by a wildebeest,” Dust blurted out.

Raffa and Sasha looked at Dust. And then at the tv, as Mufasa was trampled. By wildebeests. And then at Dust again.

“Right,” Sasha said, like he understood more than the surface of what Dust had said. He always understood. They both did.

“And what time did you get trampled by a wildebeest?” Raffa asked. See? They just understood.

“A few hours ago,” Dust muttered, through the pain. It- it was definitely worse now, wasn’t it?

“Do we need to beat anyb- any wildebeests up?” Sasha asked.

Raffa raised an eyebrow at him.

“What!” Sasha asked. “I gotta check!”

“Like you would beat anybody up with those noodle arms,” Raffa replied.

Sasha rolled his eyes. “Well- Are there any wildebeests I need to send spam texts to for the next five years?”

“No,” Dust said. “It just kind of happened. Randomly. Nobody did this to me.”

“Okay,” Sasha said. “Good.”

“And how much does it hurt?” Raffa asked.

Dust shrugged. “A lot?”

“Does it ever stop hurting?” Raffa asked.

“At first it was just when I touched it,” Dust admitted. “But now- That was a very angry wildebeest.”

“Where does it hurt?” Raffas asked.

“My stomach,” Dust said. “It was- it was on one side of my stomach, and then it kind of moved down. And now it just hurts. A lot.”

Raffa and Sasha shared a look that Dust couldn’t decipher. Normally, he was very good at deciphering their looks, but- Ow. Just- ow.

“Can I touch you?” Sasha asked, suddenly.

It was rare that any of them ever asked to touch, they were just kinda physical like that, but- But Dust was glad Sasha had, this time. “Yeah,” Dust wheezed out. “Yeah, you can touch me.”

“Okay,” Sasha said. “This might hurt, but-”

Sasha pushed down on Dust’s stomach, feeling around, and-

“Shiitake mushrooms!” Dust yelled out in pain.

“Did you just do the Spy Kids thing?” Sashas asked.

“I thought the Spy Kids thing was ‘Do you think God stays in heaven because he too lives in fear of what he's created?’” Raffa asked.

“No, no, that’s the Spy Kids 2 thing,” Sasha said.

“Obviously,” Dust said, though it was more of a hiss than a word. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“So, that’s not good,” Sasha said.

“I’m fine,” Dust hissed.

“No, no, you’re not,” Raffa said. “It sounds like appendicitis.”

“And it feels like appendicitis,” Sasha added.

Dust squinted at Sasha. “How do you feel appendicitis?”

“You touch someone’s stomach, and when they quote Spy Kids at you, you know that they have it,” Sasha said, seriously.

“I’m fine,” Dust said, with a pout.

He really was fine. He was just fine. He was peachy keen- Sasha touched his stomach again, just a light poke, and Dust groaned. Loudly. It may have been a bit of a scream, actually, but that-

“Okay,” Raffa said. “We- we are going to the emergency room. Now. No more Spy Kids talk.”

“Not even a little?’ Dust asked, but- Fuck, it hurt to tak.

“Maybe a little,” Raffa said. “But once we are one our way to the ER.”

“I’m fine,” Dust said, though it sounded more like a half garbled groan, coming out of his mouth.

“You’re so not fine,” Sasha said.

“You have to listen to us,” Raffa said.“We both have first aid training.”

“And you’re the person who tried to tell us your broken finger didn’t even need ice, a few months ago-” Sasha continued.

“I was fine then,” Dust moaned. “And I’m fine now.”

Raffa and Sasha stared at each other for a moment, and then nodded.

“We are invoking our rights as roommates who got here first,” Raffa declared. “You’re getting whatever this is checked out.”

“Cool people go to the emergency room,” Sasha added. Dust was pretty sure that wasn’t actually true, but-

“Fine,” Dust grumbled. He moved to sit up-

“Woah, man,” Sasha said, pushing Dust, carefully, by the shoulder. “You stay there.”

“But-” Dust started.

“We need to pack a bag,” Raffa said, standing up. “Just for the waiting room. Hopefully.”

Sasha was already halfway across the room, searching around. “Where the hell did we put the car keys?”

“They aren’t on the hook?” Raffa asked.

“They’re never on the hook,” Sasha complained.

Dust stared at them through slightly pain hazy eyes. “The mug?”

“Yes!” Sasha said, darting over to the rainbow coloured mug full of random things that sat on their kitchen counter. “Score! I have the keys!”

“I have a bag,” Raffa replied. Dust had no idea when she had time to get a bag together, but, well, it was Raffa. She had her ways. “What else do we need?”

“Shoes!” Sasha yelled out.

He slipped on the first shoes he saw, which were- one, bright pink, fluffy slide, and one neon yellow flip flop. He threw shoes at Raffa, too, and Raffa caught them.

“What about me?” Dust asked, offended. “I should- I need to get dressed.”

“Your pyjamas are fine,” Raffa said, with a wave of her hand. “And your bunny slippers.”

“But-” Dust started. He sighed. “I don’t look cool.”

If it was anyone else, they would have told Dust that he was going to the ER, he didn’t need to look cool. But it wasn’t anyone, it was Sasha and Raffa, so, instead-

“Here,” Raffa said, handing Dust his sunglasses. “Sunglasses make anything cool.”

“And, besides, who the hell is brave enough to go out in bunny slippers except for the absolute coolest?” Sasha added, as he wheeled Dust’s rollator over to him.

That probably wasn’t good for the carpet- but then again they had made a vinegar and baking soda volcano on that same carpet last week, so-

“You good to walk?” Raffa asked. “We could always sit, and we can push you.”

“I’ve got it,” Dust said, as he slowly stood up. He steadied his weight on the handles, and took a few steps. Yeah. He totally got this.

Dust was fine. He was.

“It’s just until we get to the car,” Sasha promised. “You have his-”

“Yeah,” Raffa said, before Sasha could even finish, waving Dust’s folded cane in the air. “I have it. Do we need anything-”

“Snacks,” Sasha said. “Do we have snacks?”

Raffa nodded. “Packed them. And cards. And his blanket.”

“I can always run back if we forgot anything,” Sasha added.

“I’m not moving in,” Dust said, with a groan. Maybe he had stood up a bit early. “I;m just going to get checked out. Against my will.”

“Right,” Raffa said. “Yeah. We should get you there. Right now.”

“I’m fine,” Dust repeated.

“Come on, Mr Cool Guy,” Sasha said. “Let’s get you to the ER.”

It was unfair. Sasha knew that Dust couldn’t help but smile when he called him that. So unfair.

But- Nonetheless, the three of them made their way out of their apartment, down the elevator- which, Dust was fairly certain Pinocchio had a repair person around all the time, just to make sure that he never had to feel the wrath of the three of them if it was ever broken- and down into their car. Dust had no idea if it was Sasha’s car or Raffa’s, originally, because they all sort of used it whenever they needed it. The pink fluffy steering wheel cover was definitely Sasha’s though. Dust had added the skull dangling from the mirror, for the record. Not that Dust was really paying attention to the car, right now. He was just sort of sitting in the back seat, trying not to cry out in pain whenever they hit a pothole. Or had to go over a speedbump. Or- really, whenever they moved. Or stopped. Or- The car wasn’t great. It fucking sucked, actually. Being in the car really fucking sucked. But, Dust thought, as he fiddled with the little keychain on the end of his cane, he was fine. He really was fine.

Dust was fine. And he knew he was fine, not because he could handle it alone, put on a brave face, but- but because Sasha and Raffa were looking after him.

@shrimptacodaniels @doorbellvibes <3

#hey i forgot to mention that i read this. because i was i think actively trying not to walk into traffic while on my phone yesterday #BUT THAT MEANS YOU GET BELATED REACTION. MOSS!!!!!!!!#your ability to set time and place. so good. i LOVE your descriptions of little things that characterize so much #like the steering wheel cover is such a small detail that says so much #etc etc etc for EVER #not to mention. THEM!!!!!! they love each other…… dusts fear of vulnerability being so expertly navigated by the two people he’s close #to so much…… and his ability to understand em right back!!!!

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doorbellvibes · 26 days ago

Text

you’ve got no disguise (from somebody’s eyes)

Dust is being watched.

Isn’t he always? In grocery stores, by curious children who thought canes were “only for old people.” On sidewalks, when passersby with shy smiles ask “are you blind?” (he’s not) as if it’s a brave thing to do. By leering mothers and haughty businessmen on street corners, turning up their noses as he plays his guitar. Tries to make a living.

Dust is being watched.

Isn’t he always?

“Dust, turn around. Let me fix your collar.”

He bristles but complies, tensing further as he feels Raffa’s fingers work around the back of his neck. It’s hot outside - a summer evening that sticks to him like glue.

If the heat wasn’t bad enough, this suit would be the kicker (spoiler alert: it’s the kicker). Dust wanted to wear a dress, as he often does to these sorts of galas, but this crowd is far more…stuffy than the usual “Mountport Elite.” A dress would only draw unwanted attention. As would his sunglasses.

He already gets enough of that.

Dust is being watched.

Isn’t he always?

“Good to go.” Raffa pats his shoulder, satisfied.

He nods.

Thank them, a voice hisses venomously. What will they think-

He’s too irritated to care. If he’s being watched, let them all watch.

You don’t mean that.

Yes I do. I don’t care.

Lie, the critical voice says. It falls silent.

“Alright,” Raffa murmurs. “You both know the plan.”

“That we do.” Sasha flashes that signature grin of his, looking effortlessly relaxed. Confident. Something coils tight around Dust’s heart. Sasha’s good at being watched. Dust is just being watched.

Isn’t he always?

Raffa nods. “Right. This’ll be quick. Remember, the goal is to be a distraction-“

“-not to get distracted,” Sasha finishes. He looks over at Dust with a fond expression. “This guy, hm?” He jerks a thumb in Raffa’s direction. Dust tries for a smile.

Pathetic.

Shut up. I’m fine.

Lie.

“I can collect your invitations,” one of the greeters says grandly, effectively ending their huddle. Dust allows himself a modicum of pride as he surrenders the leaflet in his hand. Calligraphy is tricky, and forged calligraphy more so. Add the fact that he only had two hours to do three invitations-

It’s not enough. He’ll notice.

He won’t. I know what I’m doing.

Lie. Fix your face. He’s watching you.

Right. Dust tries for a neutral expression as the tuxedo-clad man glances over each paper.

“Enjoy your evening, folks.” He steps aside to let them through.

Sasha whistles lowly once they’re out of earshot, offering a fist.

He thought it was good. He saw what you did and thought it was good.

Yes. That makes me cool.

Lie.

Dust bumps his own fist against Sasha’s halfheartedly, fighting the urge to hurl at the contact. He wishes he felt proud again. Or something. Instead, he begins scanning the crowd.

This event is highly populated. More people than they had thought. Which is good, right? Everyone’s job just got a bit easier. Right.

“More people than we thought,” Raffa observes from behind him. “Good.” It’s as if they’ve just read his mind. Maybe he’s just that easy to read.

He’s being watched.

Isn’t he always?

“You both know where to meet me?”

“Worrywart.”

“Shut up.” They smooth a hand over the skirt of their dress. “What are your conversation topics when approaching guests?”

“My prolific career as a Michelin star chef.”

“If you sat on a voodoo doll of yourself, would you be able to stand up?”

Raffa looks at both of them. “You know what? Sure.”

“Brrrreak!” Sasha waves, disappearing into the crowd.

Raffa rolls their eyes. “Good luck. I’ll be quick.”

Great.

You won’t last five minutes.

—

Dust lasts all of fifteen minutes. Which is, quite honestly, longer than he expected.

But the man he’s speaking to is wearing a suit in the brightest shade of red Dust has ever seen. Eyes swimming, he tries to focus on the conversation.

“And I work for Hasbro, you know, which is normally quite stable, but there’s trouble in paradise I’m afraid. People talking about some re-branding of Mr. Monopoly, but we just can’t find anyone with the right look.”

The string quartet springs into a lively tune, notes piercing the air (and the space between Dust’s temples). He nods shakily, brain practically leaking out of his ears.

“I said I could model, which I could. But they-“

“Excuse me, sir, so sorry to interrupt.

Would you mind me having a word with my friend for a moment?”

The man gives a slight nod in acknowledgment. “But of course.” He claps Dust on the shoulder with force that just about does him in.

“A pleasure, young man.”

“Yes sir,” Dust manages. He’s staring hard at the floor, which shifts and churns underneath him.

“Psst.” Sasha’s next to him in a flash, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Of course he saw. Because Dust is being watched.

“But the plan-“

“Change of plans.”

“Sash, I’m-“

“More important than this? Correct! Besides,” he presses closer to Dust so he can whisper in his ear. “This is not the first nor the last time we steal from entitled people.”

Next time they’ll do it without you.

Shut up. That’s not true.

How would you know? They’ve done the duo thing before. Who’s to say it wasn’t better then?

Me.

You’re lying.

“When is something like this going to happen again?” Dust stumbles uncertainly, trying to step out of Sasha’s grip. “I’m fine.”

Lie.

What more would you have me do?

He stumbles again, watching Sasha reach for him. It’s no use, he can do this himself.

Lie.

What do you want from me?

“Why are you trying to fight me on this, dude? What’s going on?”

The lights are so bright and the violin so shrill and now Sasha’s raised his voice to normal volume and he’s too close and it hurts, it all just-

Dust grits his teeth. The world is hurting him. He needs to hurt back.

“Would you stop?”

“Stop?”

“Acting like you care. And watching me like I’m a baby. You don’t and I’m not, so…”

A look of hurt flashes across Sasha’s face.

Why would you make me say that?

You’re not a baby. And you’ve done things fine on your own.

Lie.

NO.

Dust snarls. “Don’t look at me like th-“

Pain sinks its teeth in his side, effectively ending any sentence he was trying to form. Stars flood his vision, dizzying static ringing in his ears.

And then there is nothing.

—

He starts aggressively, as if waking from a nightmare, when he comes to.

“Hey. Easy. We’ll go when walking doesn’t feel impossible. No rush.”

Raffa is looking down at him (watching) with a…complicated look on their face. Somewhere between concern and tenderness and confusion and a hint of tense frustration.

Because you’re a burden to them. Maybe you are a baby.

Stop.

“How are you?” Raffa murmurs, gently squeezing his arm. He’s sprawled out on the floor, head resting in their lap. They’re backlit by the glow of the reception hall, glasses glittering as they hold his gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he replies weakly. “Get anything good?”

“Pretty forks, decent alcohol, and deeply fascinating gossip, which we will discuss at home.”

“Over the decent alcohol, I assume?”

“Maybe.”

“Score.”

“But not,” they warn, “before you’re feeling better. Don’t give me shit for that, you know as well as I do how you’re doing.”

Dust can’t do this again.

“Where’s Sasha?”

“Getting the car.” They seem to want to say more, but they restrain themself.

Dust can’t do this again.

“What were you going to say?”

“What?”

“About Sasha. What were you going to say just now?”

Raffa sighs. “Look. He does care about you. You hit a nerve.”

Dust falls silent. What is there to say?

You’re not sorry.

I am sorry. He was trying to help.

You shouldn’t need help.

Stop.

No.

“He’s outside.” Raffa helps him stand, passing his cane once both of them are steady on their feet.

“Let’s go home.”

—

Dust is being watched.

Isn’t he always?

If Sasha’s going to watch him instead of the road, fine. He fixes his eyes on the rearview mirror, going for the hardest glare he can muster. Dust can tell the second Sasha notices, because his gaze softens.

He sees right through you. Baby.

Shut up.

No.

“Please get us back alive,” Raffa prods gently from the seat beside Dust.

“Babe, me ‘n Dirty Diana have been ruling these streets for ages. You think I’d put us in danger?”

“Red light, Sasha-“

He slows to a stop just in the nick of time. The jeep gives a slight jolt, which sends Dust’s vision swimming again, but it could be worse.

Stop with the brave shit.

That’s not his voice. Nor the voice. Dust shoves that train of thought to a far corner of his brain, mostly because it hurts to think. Mostly.

Raffa jabs an accusatory finger at the back of Sasha’s neck.

“AGH! Jeez, Raff, I wasn’t gonna run it-“

“You were definitely going to run it-“

“Not intentionally.”

“Well no, I don’t think you’d intentionally run a red light.”

“Thank you for your immense faith in me.”

“Green, Sash.”

“I can see colors fine!” He steps on the gas. Raffa rolls their eyes, shooting Dust a patented “our roommate’s an idiot” look.

“I know you’re exchanging looks back there. Freaks.”

“You wouldn’t know that if you kept your eyes on the road.”

“Deep breath. Realize how you’re alive?”

“Shut up.”

“You have such a way with words.”

They turn into the parking lot at a reasonable speed a few minutes later, as if Sasha’s now trying to prove a point. He parks, surprisingly well, and shuts the car off before properly turning around to glare at Raffa. There’s no heat to it.

“Happy?”

Raffa laughs. “I’m driving next time.”

“Get out and admire my beautiful parking job.”

Again, it’s a pretty good parking job.

Dust also can’t breathe. His knees buckle.

“Inside.” There’s not any softness to Raffa’s voice when they say it, but the urgency supplies him with enough encouragement to start off towards the elevator. The world feels hot, hotter than it did earlier. It seems to fill him up and turn his insides to mist, making him sway on his feet.

I need help.

You need too much.

No.

Stop.

“Can you-“ he gasps at whoever’s next to him. Silently, they pick him up, which is not what Dust was expecting.

“Cane,” they- he?- who is this? whisper to the other one. He feels his cane gently wrenched from his hand.

“I got it,” Dust protests.

“I got it.” That’s Raffa. Which means Sasha’s carrying him.

He should drop you.

Why would he drop me?

He should. You were awful to him.

He won’t. And I was just overstimulated.

He probably hates you.

You don’t know anything.

Lie.

DING.

Sasha waits a moment before getting out, presumably to let Raffa lead the way.

Good.

Nothing about this is good.

I’m tired of fighting you.

Baby. Weak like one, too.

Stop.

He slips out of consciousness again.

—

“…all set?”

“Spill, please.”

He’s lying down on their horrible couch, head in Sasha’s lap and feet in Raffa’s.

“Yes. Secrets.” Raffa clears their throat. “Okay. Prefacing. What I’m about to tell you cannot leave the house. And it is quite possibly the most insane piece of town history I’ve ever heard.” They pause for a beat, registering that Dust has come to and tapping his ankle in acknowledgment.

“How much do you two know about the mayor?”

“Not enough,” Sasha responds. Dust hums in agreement.

“Follow-up question: how much do you two know about The Mountport polycule?”

“The what-“

“That’s what I said.”

They recount the story slowly, all big gestures and animated expressions. The familiarity of their cadence makes him soften, slightly. He likes coming home to something he knows. They take extra care to keep quiet, he realizes. Out of respect for his migrane. It seems like an obvious choice, but the rightness of it sits with him.

Sasha combs his fingers through Dust’s hair, tracing patterns lightly on his scalp. It’s nearly identical to the way Dust traces - the soothing tactic he would be utilizing now if it didn’t hurt to move. Something odd twists in his stomach at that. He didn’t realize his habit was noticeable. Sasha stills when Dust’s gaze darts up to him, beginning to pull away. He looks apologetic.

Against all his worst of thoughts, that critical voice screaming at him, Dust seizes Sasha’s wrist and squeezes it. As firmly as he can (which is not very, but he’s trying to prove a point to himself).

“I thought you-“

“Shh.” Dust guides Sasha’s hand back to the top of his head. “Continue, Raff.”

Raffa doesn’t miss a beat. “Right. So Amelia seems to be the through-line of the earlier relationships-“

It feels like trust, the way there’s no questions asked. No hesitation.

Dust doesn’t miss the flicker of relief on Sasha’s face, nor the lack of tension now.

It feels like understanding, like forgiveness. No hesitation.

Hm. Maybe Dust is being seen. Because he isn’t being coddled. There is no overbearing sweetness, no contact that is too close or too much. Because he isn’t expected to exchange quips until he feels better, to sit and let people fuss or banter.

There’s no expectation. At all.

Maybe Dust is being seen.

If this is being seen, I can live with being watched by everyone else.

The other voice stays silent.

——

my beautiful Dust!!!!!! I hope I did him justice - never written his perspective before but I had a blast. What a beast.

#literally your mastery of saying the same thing but meaning something different. EXPLODES #i read this right before i fell asleep last night #writing this down for dust characterization✍️✍️✍️✍️

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doorbellvibes · 1 month ago

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good shirt from the market today

#roommates

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doorbellvibes · 1 month ago

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Your sixth most recent emoji is how your guardian angel feels about you

#🧌#<- roommates guardian angel au of some kind????????#the troll makes me think sasha is the angel for one of the other two and i fear that #i guess either he’s both their guardian #or one is non-guarded or guardianed by someone else #or the other one is the anti guardian devil on their shoulder #get sasha out of there they’re gonna cause problems

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doorbellvibes · 1 month ago

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#roommates

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doorbellvibes · 2 months ago

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twin flames and twin bruises

TW: mentions of abuse

Sasha’s wearing the hoodie with the higher neckline as he joins them on the couch. Which could mean two things:

a) he needs emotional support

b) he got…busy last night

He spent the night at Trent’s house out of consideration for Raffa’s early morning. She had a meeting before school, which is never fun. The thoughtfulness is nice. She doesn’t know Trent incredibly well, but this is one of Sasha’s longer entanglements. They’re coming up on five months.

Sasha’s expression as he settles between her and Dust just about confirms Point A. This is an emotional support night.

“Hey,” she prods. “What’s wrong?”

“Perceptive,” he teases. His words fall flat. “Um,” he clears his throat, “Trent and I broke up this morning.” His voice catches.

“Sorry.” He laughs, and it’s the worst sound she’s ever heard. Nothing Sasha has ever said or done has been twinged with so much sadness. Dust shoots her a concerned look, hand coming to rest on Sasha’s. “Not a big deal. I just…I just really liked him, I guess.”

A few tears make their way down his face without warning. Something painful in Raffa’s chest twists. It’s slightly out of her wheelhouse, but she knows what he needs right now is to be held.

“Get over here.” She loops her arms around him protectively. “Stop with the brave shit.” Pressing a kiss to his hair is instinctual - she never would have thought to make that move. Sasha huffs another one of those pathetic laughs into the crook of her elbow as he settles in her embrace.

“You don’t get a kiss that easy. Take me to dinner first.”

“With what money. I’m a teacher.”

“Barter economy.”

“You speak my language well.”

“Yeah, well, years of experience.”

“We’re getting off track.”

“Yeah, Night at the Museum, right?”

“Don’t.” Her arms tighten around him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s more than just ‘really liked him,’ isn’t it?” Dust murmurs. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes it is.” Dust’s frown deepens. “Stop downplaying it.”

Sasha shits nervously in her arms. It takes him a considerable amount of time to do so.

Shit. Raffa’s blood turns to ice.

“Sasha. Are you hurt?”

“I-“

“Sash.”

He nods, almost imperceptibly. Raffa pulls back to look at him.

“What did he do to you.” It’s more of a demand than a question. She feels sick.

“What didn’t he do to me?” He tries for a grin, against all odds, but it’s more of a grimace.

“Raff told you to stop with the brave shit.” Dust rubs gentle circles with his thumb against the back of Sasha’s hand. “Talk to us.”

The silence pushes them all closer together, the anticipation a crushing weight.

“He beat the crap out of me last night. Out of nowhere,” Sasha whispers. “Thought I could hold my own better.” He pulls down the collar of his hoodie with his free hand. “Apparently not.”

Thumb-shaped bruises litter his throat, the grooves of nail markings more subtle but still present.

“‘M not gonna show you all of it. But. That’s the gist.”

“Sasha.” Raffa pulls him close again, pressing him gently against her chest. Dust wraps his arms around the both of them.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“Shut the hell up.” Raffa and Dust say it in unison, making it all the more powerful.

“Mind meld.”

“What happened to shutting the hell up?” Dust prods the top of Sasha’s head with his nose. “We’ve got you. That’s it.”

“Okay,” he whispers. They can both feel him shaking. Dust moves an arm to thread his fingers through Sasha’s hair, lightly tracing patterns against his scalp.

“I’m not going to threaten violence against him right now, considering the circumstances, but believe me when I say I have a lot of ideas.” Raffa presses closer to him, as if she can shield him from someone who isn’t even in the room. But that asshole has already left his mark and there’s nothing she can do about it.

Sasha nods into her neck. She can feel his eyes squeeze shut.

“If you’re doing that thing where you just close your eyes really hard to keep from crying, stop,” she warns. “Let it out.”

“We love you.” Dust is bright red as he says it, a telltale sign of honesty. Sasha reaches blindly behind him to grab at Dust’s arm, squeezing it tight. He relaxes between them, crying silently. Raffa hates that, too - that something so awful could completely rob him of his sound. Sasha is a lot of things. He is very rarely silent.

Each one of them is overcome with emotion as the seconds build into minutes, as Raffa’s cardigan and Dust’s firm hold dampen Sasha’s tears to the rest of the world. Raffa and Dust seem to have the same idea at the same moment, as they both lean down to kiss his head. Sasha sob-laughs at that.

“You’re on a roll today,” he sniffs.

“We love you,” Raffa echoes. “This is how people should love you.”

He sits up, still crying, to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.” He turns to do the same to Dust. “And thank you.”

“Nothing to thank us for.”

“Agreed.” Dust pulls back to sit beside him again, now taking hold of Sasha’s arm, hugging it gently and resting his chin on Sasha’s shoulder. Raffa moves to lean against the other shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure against his neck as she drops her head.

“Now rest.” Raffa snatches the remote from the arm of the couch, pressing play. “We can pause if you need to talk. But we’re here regardless.”

Sasha breathes deeply, squeezing her knee. “Thanks.”

“Again, you have nothing to thank us for.”

“I really do.”

“Bullshit. Dust?”

“Bullshit,” he agrees. “Not cool to be thanking us so much.”

“I could live with being uncool,” Sasha teases.

“We’d kick you out,” Raffa jokes back.

“Then who would do drag when the heat’s out?”

“Pinocchio,” Dust says instantly.

Sasha snickers. “He’d be great at it. That’s really unfortunate for me.”

“I think we like you too much to let that happen.”

Sasha nudges at Raffa’s head. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up. I don’t even know what part of the movie we’re on.”

“And we’re back.”

They lapse into comfortable silence, Sasha still breaking the hold occasionally to wipe at his eyes. He always settles back down, though.

And his roommates are ready for him when he does.

——

Famous last words, Kaz <33

anyway I haven’t made a guy sad in a minute. So I made him sad 🥰

#HURT/COMFORT SAVE ME HURT/COMFORT.....#The Them #youre so good at show-not-telling familiarity and intimacy just through the way you write dialogue #where it's choppy and overlappy and informal and everything #roommates

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