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[pheebslu]

Story #1

Guys, this is a Miguel O’Hara fanfic, my first ever work of fiction written ever (apart from all those English paper projects.) I wrote this when I was extra bored, and I kept it marinating on my notes app. English is NOT my first language, and I am NOT responsible for the second hand embarrassment I make y’all feel. Without further ado, hope you beautiful people enjoy.

11:59 PM Nueva York, April 2nd.

Party on a typical suburban mansion from a rich boy whom you barely even know of — he is the friend of one of your friends.

You had not planned to come. You didn’t even know of the event completely, your friend telling you about it just a few hours ago.

A few hours ago, when your boyfriend had just broken up with you — ex boyfriend, more so. It felt wrong to say such… yet, you kind of saw it coming. Him being the opposite of attentive, the contrary of emotionally intelligent. You wondered how you even allowed yourself to date this guy.

It was getting quite late, at least for what you were used to. You’d be better off at your dorm, finishing off any assignments due, taking advantage of time as best as you could. Yet here you were, partying — for what you understood of the term. It felt good to have a friend by your side, the day hadn’t gone exactly well.

“You okay, hun?” Your friend cut you off your daze.

“I’m alright, hun.” You blinked more than enough times, smiling up at them as they seemed to offer you a drink. You loved how affectionate with their words they were, repeating them yourself in a way of admiration.

They smiled back, a frown sliding across their face as soon as you seemed to cut eye contact.

“Look, I know what happened today. I know you might not feel your best— honestly, I don’t even know what I was doing by inviting you here but—“

“It’s alright.” Your voice remained calm in the midst of their anxiousness.

“I just thought distraction might be good…”

You sighed softly, a tiny smile decorating your lips.

“I’m fine, really. Parties might not be might thing, especially right now but— I get to be accompanied, and that I like.”

Your friend’s eyes seemed to shine, tears threatening to fall from how much your words and yourself meant to them.

“You’ll be fine, just know that.” They placed a hand on your shoulder blade, the warmth managing to comfort you a bit. You gave them an acknowledging nod.

“Let’s try and dance a bit. C’mon, girl.” You chuckled, grateful at their attempts to keep you away from it all.

1:03 AM Nueva York, April 3rd.

Seems that it is true when they say the party is just getting started. The music seemed to only get louder by the second and your feet ached immensely from the heels you dared to wear today.

You scurried away from the crowd, keeping an eye on your friend as they seemed to dance happily around everyone else. You smiled almost nostalgically, wondering how to be more like her. Maybe you just needed your time.

You roamed around the house, passing people by, finding comfort in the personal things that decorated the house. Photos, vases, pens and books. Finally, you found yourself a seat. The house was big, the amount of people in it even bigger. You considered yourself lucky for finding a free couch.

The room had a coffee table with several papers and documents in the center of it, other two sofas surrounding it. Several people were scattered around it, yet it was not the same chaos as the room you were once dancing in. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business, talking and laughing alongside their friends.

You sat down, a quiet exhausted gruff coming out from your mouth. Reaching down, deciding to remove your heels, you took note again of the documents in the coffee table. Genetics? You squinted your eyes, trying to read more of it. Genetical Engineering: VOLUME I - Principles, mechanism and expression. Well, someone’s a nerd around here. You leaned back in your seat, looking for something to distract yourself with — a rubik cube? Someone’s definitely a nerd around here, you though again chuckling at the thought.

You grabbed the cube, playing and distracting yourself with it for a while. You knew time had passed, the room getting quieter by the moment. Your eyes seemed to get tired, too. Quietly shutting them until you were half conscious.

Thud, thud, thud

Heavy muted steps were heard at the entrance of the room.

You would’ve liked to open your eyes, put a face to the presence you felt entering the area.

Too tired, your body decided to let go. The cube escaping from your fingertips.

Swoosh

You felt a breeze of air brush your face, opening your eyes from disconcert.

“You’re breaking my stuff, nena.”

You met gaze with a pair of pretty brown eyes, mellow profound voice. Adversary to the defined and sharp facial structure that stared up at you with amusement.

You shot yourself off the couch, tumbling and tripping from your fast, almost reflexive movement. You rested your hand on whatever offered you steadiness— his firm shoulder.

“Sorry!” You yelped, taking a quick step back from the figure.

“S’alright.” He got up from his kneeling position, rubik cube in hand.

His height kept getting larger and larger as he seemed to straighten up, a quick shiver running down your spine. You kept glancing around the room, his eyes themselves never really leaving yours.

“Someone’s past their bed time, eh?” He smirked, tilting his head to the side.

You relaxed a bit, comforted by his nonchalant nature. A soft chuckle escaped past your lips. “I was just taking a break— from dancing.”

“By solving a rubik cube? Don’t even want to know what you do in your free time at this point.” All over again, he made you smile. Looks like he knew how to ease someone’s nerves successfully.

“Y/N.” You extended your hand, warm smile plastered on your lips.

“Miguel.” He took your hand, a firm confident shake. It was cordial, seemingly entertained. It began to feel suspiciously long — you quickly retreated your hand.

“So…” You began, trying to continue the conversation. “The rubik cube, yours?” Of course it was his, are you deaf? You wanted earth to swallow you just for the question you just asked.

He nodded, his lips seeming to fail at hiding an even bigger smile.

“Ajá, mío. You were solving it, weren’t you?” He inspected the piece, his brows slightly kneading together.

“Trying to, at least.” You let out an airy cackle.

“Better than anything.” Creases formed around his eyes, a homely feeling lingering around the air of the room.

He sat down on one of the sofas, yourself following along by sitting on the opposite side from the coffee table. Then, there you saw him: furrowed brow, lower lip bitten down. Solving the cube like the strings that held his life together depended on it. Quick rough fingers working fervently on the block. Soon enough, the colors seemed to match. Each corresponding to a specific side. He extended his hand to you, a perfectly solved rubik cube that looked almost tiny in his palm.

You smiled eagerly, mouthing an amused wow. He laughed at the sight, a deep rumble that came from the bottom of his chest.

“I can teach you, chula. If you let me, I’ll show you the trick behind it.” He evidently winked, though you were to shy to admit it and process it yourself. You took the cube off his hand, careful fingertips taking ahold of it. You smiled.

“I’m a fast learner.” He smiled back at you, even bigger than before. He swore he could already feel the wrinkles form around his eyes, cheeks aching from how long his expression had unconsciously stayed the same. He really didn’t mind eitherway.

1:43 AM, Nueva York. April 3rd.

Time is relative. Passing by slowly when crucial moments rely on uncontrollable outcomes. Passing by quickly when enjoyment is found on the simple occurrences.

Time with your new acquaintance, Miguel, seemed to break all the rules.

Career choice, family relations, general hobbies were discussed in the first five minutes of the conversation. Turns out he actually lives in this very same house. His brother, Gabriel, being responsible for the occurrence of this party. You two quickly turned to topics like beliefs, specific niches, a tad of political overviews and controversial opinions around science. Laughs were shared, inside jokes were made. Time went rhythmically, at a specific nearly ideal pace.

“No, no, no!” Miguel screamed slightly, trying to hush himself immediately after he attracted attention to himself. “‘M not letting a roach nest form on my house just ‘cuz — ‘cuz you think it’s got a family to sustain and — and kids to… to care for!?” He pinched his nose bridge, tone in his voice that showed a tint of disappointment and disbelief.

You felt almost light heated from all the laughter, it was funny how over dramatic he was.

“It’s basic human decency. Moral etiquette, compass — you name it!” You responded, flickering tears off your eyes.

“Etiquette mis huevos. Dios mío.” He shook his head, dragging a hand across his face. Looking back at you, all teary eyed and beaming smile — he caved in, warm chortle whose vibrations you picked up even across the table.

You both took a second to calm down, eyes meeting once again with a tenderness that could make a thousand of glaciers melt easily.

You coughed into your hand, parting your gaze away.

He raised a hand onto his neck, scratching impulsively.

“Want to get a drink, chula?” You liked the softness and tenderness in which he said things.

You nodded. He stood up almost in command, walking besides your couch and offering you a hand. Oh. You took it. Timidly brave. He helped you stand up, close attention to detail in your face. Once your eyes found courage to look at his, he was now nervous. “Just so you don’t fall.” He added quickly as the tremble in his voice did him dirty. You smiled. He made you smile.

You two walked downstairs. Your hand on the railing, his on the middle of your back. The sound of music became louder, drowning your senses alongside your reasoning.

He guided you through the dance floor, more so — the living room. You two finally reached the kitchen. He made sure to sit you down on a stool near the counter, bowing jokingly after he did so. You giggled. He walked towards the opposite side of the counter.

“‘M gonna make you…” He opened the fridge, “Una de mis revolturas.” You raised an eyebrow, confused at the sudden change of language. You had practiced a bit of Spanish in High School, yet it never really stayed in your head.

“Special drink for a special person.” He clarified, grinning slightly at your expression. He took out a couple of lemons, condensed milk and a cup of ice. You’d wanted to see what he was making, yet the enormity of his annoying quite-sculptured-but-you-won’t-admit back was getting in your way. In between the loud music, you swore you heard a blender going off. Soon enough, Miguel placed in front of you a fizzy sparkling yellow colored drink.

“Okay, show off.” You teased him, not wanting to admit the drink looked quite appetizing. He laughed, tilting his head.

“Va pues, rate the show off.” He gave you a cheeky smile, wanting to reciprocate the behavior.

Placing the cup near your lips, you looked up at him. He gave you a nod, eager to see your reaction. You smirked, taking a swig. A rich smooth and bubbly flavor danced around your tongue, sweet and sour combining perfectly.

“Oh, okay, well — This is very nice!” You couldn’t help hiding the excitement in your eyes. Surprised at how good the drink actually was.

Miguel laughed audibly, pampered by your reaction. Crazy how he liked seeing you just like this. Crazy how he wanted more of your time.

Talking becomes an easy thing for the two of you, immediately finding a topic to discuss about. Everything was so easy, so casual. He talked, you talked. You talked, he inevitably followed along. Silences were not a sign of uneasiness, just veneration.

A tune catches his attention, his brows raise in thrill. He taps his fingers along the counter. You find the song rather nice, bopping your head from side to side. You look at his hand, following the same rhythm. You look into his eyes, now boring into yours. A smile is shared. A moment is saved.

“Let me dance with you, flaca.”

And so you did. Making your way onto the dance floor, his hand grasped softly around yours. And he didn’t strike you as a dancer. And he, himself, wasn’t even sure of his movements, yet he had the necessity of — dancing, with you. His hand didn’t let go, not like you wanted such. He gave you a twirl, earning a laugh from you. That eased him out, his shoulders relaxing visibly. Your feet adapted to the rhythm, Miguel looked down so he could follow you along. You cackled fondly at how out of rhythm he was, grabbing his forearms tightly so he didn’t loose a beat. He followed along, still laughing at himself. His hands left specks of warmth along your body, making everything feel out of focus. You liked the irony of that, feeling intimate around other million of people. Like a tulip. Many layers, the closer to the center, the more tender. And so you got closer to each other. Your hands in what could reach of his shoulders, his hands along the curve of you lower back. And you two probably looked like two awkward teenagers playing twister, and yet it felt right. And if you moved away the slightest, he pulled you back firmly. Although he wasn’t going to admit such.

“You know, you’re a pretty bad dancer for someone who has really nice reflexes.” You laughed, raising your voice so he could hear you clearly.

“Compliment?” He leaned down, not taking his eyes off of you. You shrugged, smirk tugging the corner of your lips.

[pheebslu]

Can we talk?

Does anybody just doesn’t talk with their best friend like y’all once used to? I mean, we can share a room, we can have certain scattered laughs here and there, but it’s just not talking… It’s not like it used to be in primary or high school, we don’t do that stuff anymore. We really don’t have the same interests but somehow we’re still friends, I guess it’s a matter of trust and security, doesn’t mean it’s not lacking that certain stimulation though.

P.D: I vlogged!

[pheebslu]

I'd like to vlog.

And I don't necessarily mean vlogging for YouTube, could be, but it's not the main focus. I mean vlogging in a way that I'll have something to look back at when I'm old, withered and feeling nostalgic; I want to buy a camcorder and do shit with my friends, Anthpo type of shit, but I'm too fucking nervous to even speak during presentations and even take my phone out in public places. At the same time, I feel like there's nothing to record about, like I don't have that exciting life which is worthy of remembering. Even though, I want to, I long for some type of fun in my life, in between school & my house nothing seems to really pop-up. Any advice?