ofbrcdys

[ofbrcdys]

M

maggie stood outside the hub cafe, her head tilted back, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. she was on a binge marathon in her apartment with mr. worldwide, enjoying her own, nice bottle of cheap wine when her stupid coach started making a bunch of annoying noise, alerting her of her new match. she had such a nice bubble bath planned for the evening, maybe take her dog on a walk. slowly but surely, she was adjusting to a lonely, matchless life. then her coach had to go and set her up.

picking out her outfit took the most time. that and getting into the shower. she was tempted to leave in her grease & wine stained, crumb covered sweats and t shirt with her hair up in a lazy ponytail, her glasses still on, too. coach had advised against it, which made it all the more tempting. in the end, she ended up in a nice dress, with her hair in some nice, loose curls. whoever she was doing this for better be fuckin’ grateful.

so now she was here, standing outside the restaurant, trying to be somewhat excited for whoever was waiting inside for her. it wasn’t happening very easily. she pushed her hair out of her face, pulled her dress down, stood up tall and made her way in. her reserved table was still empty, which eased her nerves a little bit. when she sat down, she pulled out her coach. “who exactly am i looking for?” she asked it. the answer wasn’t very helpful. so she ordered a glass of red wine, and waited.

dallas had spent his usual night in, drinking whisky, reading one of the books that the program had offered him, and listening to the lulling noises of vinyl in the background. the entrancing voice of paul enka filled the room and dallas hummed along, his voice less than worthy of praise. “put your head on my shoulder...” the rest he left as a soft murmur as he attempted to focus on the page he was reading. everything about his peaceful night was interrupted by an announcement from an all to familiar robotic voice, “a match as the hub, reservations for five pm.” he waited for more, but there was nothing else that radiated from the small, round piece of junk on the table. “you couldn’t have waited until the damn end of the chapter, coach? why do i keep this garbage near me anyways?” he questioned, throwing his book aside. he groaned into his hands, forcing himself up to turn off the music.

it took him less time to get ready then he had thought. he simply changed into a more formal undershirt and added a simple checked blazer to complete the simplistic look. he’d been on too many match dates to take time on wearing a full out suit. he looked nice - dallas always did he refused to wear anything that looked liked he didn’t put some effort into his outfit - just not so nice that he could fit into an elite club. he took the transport to the hub restaurant, barely feeling the nerves buried within him.

“coach, where exactly am i supposed to sit?” he inquired, looking around the restaurant with a curious gaze. a blunt response from coach for the table name forced dallas to look in that direction, “is that her, the brunette?” coach didn’t even answer, but dallas took that as a sign to head in her direction. “good evening, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

[ofbrcdys]

E

“i try not to have too many,” he replied in a playful tone, not wanting to seem uptight. it was clear that dallas had a cocky way about him, and ezra wasn’t so willing to give in to his emotions. “right, well…with your amazing way with words, i’m surprised you haven’t burned through more matches,” ezra replied with a soft shrug, not really meaning it. the conversation was beginning to get on his nerves with each passing second. 

“shame then, mate, you should try to have more. they can lead to wonderful inventions, and a larger personality,” dallas slips comfortable back into prodding at him. now, the other seems a bit more adapted to the conversation, and he takes this as his chance to push further. “they come and go, i blaze through them. you know what they say, ‘if you love something let it go.’ and i’ve been let go over and over again. it must mean they love me, right?”

[ofbrcdys]

L

“if we got paired i’m sure the whole time we were matched would consist of alcohol. i’d be astonished if i remember either of our names by the end of it. you’ve seen me drunk, i’m hardly coherent,” she mused with a small shrug, her tone chilled and collected. “but i hope we’re not in some ways. wouldn’t ruin our friendly banter and our drunk tendencies? i’m afraid so,” she nodded her head, not looking to ruin yet another friendship. “yeah jizz on the inside of a screen. pretty picture? i think not,” she scoffed happily at the disgusting picture. “right, because of it’s ability to fuck around with our personal lives that may i remind you, we all signed up for? yeah –– it doesn’t deserve love,” she agreed as her eyes followed his. “what a sad, adorable, smart sounding man,” she cooed, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “yes, some crazed villain that i intend to make up. they are going to have a personal vendetta against me. don’t know what about yet, but shut up, this scam will work.” 

“well, i’d be fairly disappointed if you forgot my name since we knew each other beforehand. i’d be able to remember your name and what we did, but it’d give me a headache just to think about it, love,” he adds, his hands waving along like a conductor to each word. “well, hopefully we’d only have to be matched for a short period of hours so that we could get right back to it afterwards. you know, i think it’s quite wrong what movies and books say about friendships between men and women. i think we’d make it quite well being just friends again after we had to endure a matching period.” dallas moves a stray strand of hair from his eye by pushing it back. a genuine laugh erupting from his abdomen, he’d been caught off guard by her jizz-behind-the-screen joke. “jesus, fuck, now i don’t want to touch coach myself... what if one day i push too hard and wank my own coach. it definitely does not deserve love now. my god, where'd you develop such a dirty sense of humour?” his frown turned down further, and he took more precautions by wiping his hand on the outside of his jeans. “sad, where’d you get sad from?” he crosses his arms and his tone takes a doubtful standpoint. “should i drown my coach too to make it seem like it’s a serial offense, not just a hit on you. might make your story just a wee bit more believable.”

[ofbrcdys]

R

( hub shopping center , two - thirty pm ) ; @ofbrcdys

HIDDEN OVERHEAD SPEAKERS hum a nameless , saxophonic tune ; something that sounds like it’s played behind every conversation at la bernardin , smartly orchestrating every LULL . when she listens hard enough , filtering through the constant stream of humanoid sounds , she can almost hear the CLINK - clink of tableware on gold - edged china . but here , somewhere far away from there , her toes ache , pressed into high - heel sharp corners . she steadies her chin , clears her throat :  “ is this seat .. ? ”   and , well , he should know the rest .

dallas taps his fork softly against his wine filled glass, it’s not enough to make the restaurant’s attention turn towards him, but he’s enjoying the lovely noise that is released from the glass. the way the maroon liquid moves in such a doleful way, it almost looks like a gathering puddle of tears. he admires it wholeheartedly, barely hearing the other’s vocals above the ringing of the glass ruminating in his ears. he stops his antics to give the other an answer. “it’s not taken, but i wasn’t planning on leaving it open either,” he bluntly states, placing the fork with a muffled thud back on its napkin. “if there’s nowhere else to sit, then go ahead and join me.”

[ofbrcdys]

L

“well then i guess we’re both tied to one another,” she groaned with a small smile playing on her pink lips. listening to him ramble about a pairing with an actual coach only struck weird and awkward thoughts run through her mind. “you are… something else, you know that? but you know what would be fucking great? if our coaches could start pairing with other coaches. so like our coaches could roll off somewhere and start like rubbing together, wouldn’t that be fucking awesome?” len shook her head, not even knowing where these kind of thoughts came from. “yeah and the aristotle quote, my god –– you’re too smart and that’s why i take such pride in ruining your brain cells with alcohol,” she said with a smug look on her lips. “croissants are keeping you sane? christ on a stick, that’s a little sad,” she told him a laugh humming through her lips. “i can just say someone stole it? i don’t know but i need to bash something. i feel like that could fix things.”

“maybe we should be paired. or we should be paired with alcohol... i think the latter sounds more please,” dallas sighs loudly, he’d seen matches come and go like the seasons. in fact, he’d had a match for every single season and it seemed to be horribly repetitive. he hated them, they hated him, end of the pair without any hope for a rekindling. “ah, but if our coaches were smashing one another i don’t think i’d want to touch the screen anymore...” he considered the idea for a moment, which brought a look of extreme disgust to his face. his lips curled into a frown and his eyes narrowed. “i definitely would never talk to or touch my coach again. i think i deserve love, but this piece of rubbish doesn’t.” he sighs and sticks it back into his pocket, it feels most natural there. “after a certain point, there’s only so much that can keep me sane here. it’s bloody maddening being here for so long. the croissants are the tiniest thing i still find enjoyable anymore.” dallas scratches as the back of his neck and shrugs his shoulders slightly. “you could say someone stole it, but do you really think anyone in the program would willingly steal someone else’s coach? that just doesn’t sound probable.”

[ofbrcdys]

[ofbrcdys]

S

     “If I had to choose between the bites of this burger never ending and finding the love of my life, I think I’d choose this burger. Every time.” Scott muffled out through his mouthful of barely chewed food. “And I want that on the record, coach” he added, speaking to absolutely nobody in particular. Scott had been using humour to cope with his current situation, as he always did, and he generally persuaded whoever was his current occupant to be the audience. Yet, here he sat at a table, in an empty diner, alone. As if on cue, the bell on the diner door chimed and Scott’s gaze lifted to meet that of his friends. Waving his hands hysterically like a child to get Dallas’ attention, he smiled widely as well, his cheeks puffed out and full of cheeseburger. 

dallas rarely found things adorable that other people swooned and cooed at. he thought babies were loud and looked like frogs, puppies required too much attention and were a hazard to the organized life dallas led, and those ‘cute animal videos’ everyone passed around and shared just seemed like a waste of time to dallas. the one thing that was his weakness to cute things was scott. for some reason, there was a soft spot in dallas’ heart for the way he acted like a golden boy. and seeing scott with cheeks like a chipmunk caused a flush of pink to hit dallas’ own cheeks, he waved back. he didn’t flash scott one of his usual flashy smiles, instead he offered a slight quirk of his lips as he entered. “good afternoon,” he greeted, walking towards the other with only an apple in his hand, “enjoying your food, eh?”

[ofbrcdys]

E

“just trying to clear my thoughts,” he attempted to explain, but figured it already looked embarrassing enough. ezra shrugged, not really considering himself a romantic. “i guess we all can’t be as charming as you,” he conveyed with clear annoyance. the guy could’ve left him alone, but he was obviously looking to cause trouble. “listen, why don’t you just fuck off? it’s a little immature you feel the need to be a dick. last time i checked, you’re here to find someone just like the rest of us.” 

“do you even have any of those?” dallas doubts, his cocky tone shining through clearly. he might have some fun jostling somebody while he’s stuck here. “it’s tough to have a personality like mine, but i’m sure you can learn in time, mate. it’s nothing that can’t be done, even by the least proactive students,” dallas plays off the other’s obviously vexed words, but instead of backing off he pushes forward. “oof, guess i came on a little too strong. y’know, maybe i’m not here to find someone by my own volition. perhaps you should talk to my first six partners to get a better picture as to just how well this ninety-eight percent shit seems to be working out.” he rocks on his heels, continuing to flash that same old gaudy smirk that’s synonymous with dallas’ name.

[ofbrcdys]

[ofbrcdys]

[ofbrcdys]

I want to be with you, it is as simple, and as complicated as that.

Charles Bukowski (via wordsnquotes)

[ofbrcdys]

L

“little old you? what would i do without little old you? come on, don’t sell yourself short. without you, i’d be pulling out my hair sober. but now, i can pull out my hair with alcohol and that’s the real point in life, right? that’s what we’re all destined for, right coach?” the auburn haired girl looked down to her pocket as her coach didn’t respond. “like i said, good for shit,” she huffed before looking back up to him. “sometimes you’re too smart for me, you know that right? you’re like a philosopher stuck in this crap system. how aren’t you more pissed than i am,” she questioned, her eyebrow raising. “you know, sometimes i feel bad for taking advantage of your gentle ears but then, i think –– fuck it, selfishness is most pleasurable. and also, this little man is going to get a hammer to the screen in a hot minute.” 

“and i’d be suffering through another pairing sober if it weren’t for you,” he chimes in, his voice sing-song-like in nature. dallas pulls a charming smile out, one that’s almost too sickly, sweet. “at least coach has been more stable than any of my pairings. it’s like my wife already, it makes me want to pull my hair out, but i’d also be lost without it,” he jokes, a subtle chortle leaving his lips. “what if we all find out on matching day that we’re really all going to be married to our coaches. it’d make sense, alas it’s the only thing that’ll love me,” he speculated, looking directly into the black screen of his coach like a mirror. “too smart for you, love? it’s just my accent that makes it sound that way, and the aristotle quote,” he points out, a sly grin crossing his lips. “oh, trust me, inside i’m writhing with anger. the only thing that’s been keeping me sane is the complementary food from the hub cafe. i’d be absolutely mad if there weren’t enough croissants to keep me from jumping the wall.” he nods with her words, but knows that he also relies on her out of pure selfishness. mostly when they complain to one another he really is listening with only half an ear. “i think you’ll have to replace it with your own money if you break the screen, don’t you think it’s not exactly worth it for your pounds worth?”

[ofbrcdys]

E

ezra let out all the air that was trapped within his lungs, as he paced. this constant anxiety of not knowing when he would be matched with someone was enough to make him drink himself into a coma. “hi…should we, uh,…the time we have?,” he mumbled — only bits and pieces leaving his lips as he practiced. his eyes left his feet for only a moment to realize he was not alone. “fuck,” ezra groaned, “i was just, well…this looks fuckin’ stupid. so, why bother explaining, right?” 

“are you practicing some kind of speech to give your date, mate?” dallas questioned from among the shadows, stepping forward with an amused look across his face. "oh, how romantic," and how damn cynical, dallas. “the best advice i’ve gotten from coach is to just be yourself and the ladies will start running; if ‘yourself’ is someone who stutters and sounds like a babbling barbarian, then i might not act as yourself for this date.” his tone is bitter and sardonic, but has that raspy, warmth that his natural voice is filled with.

[ofbrcdys]

L

“I’ve been more interested in the back of cereal boxes than I have been by you,” she said to her round device that was placed in her palm. “Coach? You’re actually good for nothing,” she huffed and as her personalized coach started to respond she slid it in her pocket. “Ah yeah –– shove it, will ya?” Lennon took a big huff, her hand ruffling through her auburn hair. “Mother fucker, I’d like to take a rock to you somedays,” she retorted to herself, walking towards a small pond as her small frame collided with another. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t lookin’ ––– I also wasn’t speaking to myself. I’m not crazy. But actually, I take that back. I totally was and I probably am.” 

“sorry, love, didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation with yourself      don’t stop on the account of little old me, it sounded quite intriguing,” he teases, rubbing a thumb across his bottom lip. “coach isn’t the most eloquent, or conversant, conversational partner, but it offers some entertainment in the form of frustration when you’re stuck in the boring, everyday life of the hub, don’t you think?” dallas ruffles his own hair, using his other hand to pull the coach device of his pocket. “there is no great genius without a mixture of madness, is something aristotle once said. just in the case you were talking to yourself and not having a catch up with the little man in the machine.”

[ofbrcdys]

[ofbrcdys]

Watermelon Man - Herbie Hancock (Takin’ Off, 1962)

[ofbrcdys]