#She put a bunch of her tickets in the notebook cup (I put more) and WON I hate her I’m an opp

[oldcloroxcasserole]

That notebook was MINE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 42 - Strangers

Title: Irreverent Pt. 42 - Strangers Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 9533

Irreverent Series Masterlist

There was a dull throbbing pain in your arm when you woke up the following morning - an apt reminder of the day before. Your room was cast in shadows and it was still early in the morning. The faint sound of rain could be heard outside, blanketing you with its presence. You're still laying on your side and Aaron's warm arm sits across your waist, his deep breaths gently blowing the hair at the nape of your neck.

You find yourself reaching for his hand and covering it where it lay across your stomach. You'd nearly died yesterday. Twice. You'd had a gun to the back of your head. You could barely see through the smoke. If Emily hadn't come in the nick of time, you're pretty sure he would've shot you. You hadn't had the time or space to do anything about it. You can feel your breathing get harsher as you reckon with that realization. If you'd died, Aaron - him and Jack - what about them - how would they handle it? You can feel hot tears in your eyes  and the panic caused by the entire situation rising, imagining Aaron having to go home alone to Jack - having to tell him that… The thought was far too awful to bear. Funny how dying becomes scary once we have something to lose.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Aaron had felt your breathing change and then felt you tremble against him. He turns you around, noticing the tears in your eyes, and pulls you to lay on top of him. Rubbing your back soothingly, he guides you through breathing regularly, reminding you that you're safe, that you're alright.

It's working. His voice and his touch are helping. You close your eyes and focus on the beating of his heart. He continues to rub your back as your breath evens out. When you finally open your eyes to look at him, his face is one of the utmost concern and you're pretty sure you're going to start crying all over again. You really hadn't meant to worry him.

"I'm sorry," you gasp out, reaching up to touch his cheek. He leans into you as he always does.  Your voice breaks as you continue, but you really need to tell him. "I'm sorry for scaring you yesterday, I'm so sorry."

"I know. I know you are." He can tell you're finally allowing yourself to deal with what happened last night. It had been all too terrifying for him to contend with. Walking away from you afterwards and directing the crew on what to do next had been an ordeal, his mind constantly on you and how you were doing. But he knew you - he trusted that you'd made the right decisions, the same decisions he would make in the situation. Prentiss had told him how you'd gone after the unsub and it wasn't any different from what any of them would have done. He couldn't truly fault you for it. When she'd told him how you'd thrown yourself on top of her however, his heart had about threatened to give out. He saw it for what it was - you doing your very best to not lose Emily again.

He helps you situate yourself back on the bed, this time facing him as you tangle your legs together and run your icy toes against his shins under his flannel pajamas, causing him to hiss. He's not sure why he's surprised, since you do this every time. He wraps himself around you, your arm slung around his stomach, as he plays with your hair because he knows it soothes you and would help you fall back asleep.

"You know I love you, right?" you ask him, your voice small and unsure, as though you're not sure if this is something you should voice. "I know I'm not the best at saying it, but I'd hate to think you didn't know that." You'd hate to die, thinking he didn't know that.

He nods, "I do." He knows you love him. He knows it's hard for you to say - that you're not used to saying it. More often than not you simply smile and kiss him when he says it to you. That doesn't mean he doesn't know. Even before he'd moved in, a subscription to the Wall Street Journal had started being delivered to your house. Jack's teachers were far more familiar with you than they were with him - the number of bake sales and booth duties you'd signed up for spoke for themselves. You hadn't given up on him yet - he knew he wasn't the easiest of partners to be with. You put up with his neurotic tendencies, you handled him when he became domineering and controlling and unyielding, you were there for him when all he needed was for someone to stay. Out of all the things you did for him and Jack, all the compromises and accommodations, that was the one thing that told him without a doubt that you loved him.

The two of you fall asleep again with his arms wrapped tight around you, your face buried into his chest and your hands bunched up tight into his shirt, unwilling to let go.

When he wakes up again, you've turned around in his arms. You can never stand to be in one position for too long and he's gotten used to you shifting every couple of hours in the night. He barely notices it anymore as you move and maneuver around him, contorting yourself to him no matter which way you decide to settle down.

He knows you're awake because you're grinding yourself into him, moving your hips against him. "Mm, don't write checks you can't cash sweetheart," he mumbles into your skin, kissing the side of your neck.

You grin. It had taken him long enough. "I'm not," you reply, continuing your movements against his growing erection. You grab his hand that's wrapped around your waist and move his hand to cup your breasts.

"You're still injured," he breathes out, stalling as if to stop your movement, though his hand instinctively squeezes your breasts, drawing a small moan from you. You were going to drive him insane.

"Then I guess you should do all the work." You turn, your lips finding his and you can feel him smile into the kiss. He's going to give in. He always does.

By the time the two of you get ready and leave your room, the rest of the team is already up. Derek gives you a knowing smirk from his spot near the window, bringing his coffee mug to his mouth right before Aaron looks at him. JJ and Spencer are at the dining table, eating the frozen waffles that Tatiana had stocked in the freezer, despite you telling them they could order anything, and both Rossi and Emily are situated on the couch, their eyes trained on the television playing the news.

You two greet everyone and JJ tells you that Penelope will be arriving soon. Her, Reid, and Derek have tickets to go catch Hamilton courtesy of your Broadway contact and you'd gotten in touch with your old friend Maeve, because you had a feeling her and Spencer would hit it off. She was joining them for the play. He'd lamented to you after the dinner party, that he was really starting to miss having someone despite never really having had someone. You could sympathize with that feeling of yearning - the kind that burrows into your bones and forces you to miss someone you don't even know yet.

Aaron watches as you go over to Emily, leaning down over the back of the couch and hugging her around her shoulders. You thank her for coming back for you yesterday and she squeezes your hand, turning to place a quick kiss to your cheek.

He hands you a coffee right as Jack calls and the two of them chat briefly before his son demands to speak with you, and you carry the phone into the bedroom, a conspiratorial smile on your face. His birthday is fast approaching and he has a feeling you and Jack have something in the works. He goes to sit by Emily and Dave, content to watch the anchor discuss the latest events in the election that is underway.

"Is she alright?" Emily asks him, her voice low so as to ensure that no one else can hear her. She had a worried look on her face as her eyes settled on the door you'd disappeared behind.

"She had a bit of a moment regarding yesterday," he reveals, looking around to make sure the rest of the team was engrossed in their individual activities. Dave was closest, however his head was bent over a notebook where he was undoubtedly documenting the latest case. "I think it was a lot and she just realized how much of a close call it was."

Emily nods understandingly. "Good. Yesterday was way too close and sometimes that fear helps us figure out what we really want. What matters."

Aaron agrees. These moments were usually a reset, coming along when he needed them most. It had happened around the time of his and Haley's divorce, when he'd nearly gotten shot and had the realization that he had a wife and young son he had to stay alive for. He'd nearly quit the team then, and while that hadn't happened for other reasons, death had a way of clarifying priorities like none other.

By the time you exit the bedroom, Penelope has arrived with dresses for both Emily and JJ. She greets you with a quick hug and thanks you for securing the Broadway tickets, before settling onto the couch with everyone else.

"This is supposed to be the best party in town all month," Penelope gushes. "I looked it up and getting on the guest list is impossible. They've got a veritable who's who of New York society. They've even got a Prince!"

"Which Prince?" JJ asks, her mouth quirked up into a smile at Penelope's obvious excitement.

"The Prince of Bulgaria."

"Oh! Markos is in town? I haven't seen him in ages!" you exclaim from your spot on Aaron's lap. Penelope had been a little surprised to see the two of you so obviously affectionate with one another, but had merely called it adorable and not made it too awkward. After last night it seemed the others were just used to it now.

"You know the Prince of Bulgaria?" Aaron asks, a slightly amused look on his face as his fingers play with the edge of the skirt you'd donned.

"Yeah, we went on a few dates to make his ex jealous," you reveal, turning slightly to look at him. "He promised me an extradition to Bulgaria, should the need ever arise."

Your explanation is met with some incredulity and laughter and the conversation goes from the party that night to the best parties of everyone's college days, meandering through the group.

Once Derek, Penelope, and Reid leave for the play, JJ declares the need for a nap and a long video chat with her boys, leaving you, Aaron, Emily, and Rossi to figure out lunch for yourselves. You leave, promising to bring something back for JJ.

Rossi's been a bit of a pain about the clubbing, claiming that he's far too old for that scene, especially once he hears that the party doesn't really get started till eleven at night. However, you promise to make it worth his while, and it might have to do with your reputation for keeping your promises or it’s the fact that you were injured yesterday and you pouted at him, that he gives in and agrees to come along without complaint.

The four of you had a leisurely lunch (you had food sent to the apartment for JJ so she wouldn't be waiting for too long) and walked through the park, talking about the upcoming holidays and everyone's plans. Aaron was onboard with your idea to take Jack to Europe for Christmas, however everyone on the team would be back in town for New Year's Eve so Rossi had decided to host at his place.

By the time you all return to the apartment, the Broadway goers were back as well, Maeve in tow. You'd been right, her and Spencer had hit it off wonderfully. They'd bonded over some obscure philosophers and were debating their work enthusiastically when you'd seen them. Maeve had to unfortunately beg off clubbing with the team for the night as she had a prior engagement, but she and Spencer exchanged numbers before she left. He got some teasing about that from Derek but overall everyone was thrilled for him. His colored face never really did return to its normal pallor the rest of the evening.

You made a large batch of coffee and encouraged everyone to drink some and take a nap, as it would be a long night ahead. This wasn't your first rodeo but it had been a while since you all had gone all night on something that wasn't a case file. You could use all the help you can get.

Everyone wanders back into the living room by the evening and you ordered dinner that would keep everyone satisfied for some time, choosing to order Thai as you knew that at some point after the club, you'd force Aaron to let you get dollar pizza even though it would upset your stomach later.

"JJ, is Henry reading on his own yet?" Penelope asks from her spot on the couch, a forkful of Pad Thai halfway to her mouth.

"Yeah, he is. Why?"

"I need to start my Christmas shopping. I figure maybe Jack and Henry might enjoy starting on the Harry Potter series if they haven't already," she explains, looking at both you and Aaron as well.

"That'd be great Pen, thanks," you tell her. Jack's started reading on his own, but either you or Aaron try to also read the books he's reading so he has someone to talk to about the story. He'd started reading the Magic Treehouse books recently and you and Aaron were switching off reading books in the series and then filling in the other person so you're both caught up on the overall plot.

"Great! It'll be fun to see which houses the kiddos want to be in," she says. Spencer agrees from beside her. You know he's been waiting for the kids to be old enough to be into the things he's into.

"As long as its not Hufflepuff," you joke, poking your tongue out at her. Penelope was a very obvious Hufflepuff.

"How very Slytherin of you," she retorts with a huff, before she looks at Aaron seated across from you and you see her eyes widen ever so slightly. "Oh! But actually Hotch would be a total Gryffindor - you two would have the Romeo and Juliet forbidden romance thing."

You laugh at that. "Nah, he'd be the hot professor I have an affair with," you joke, throwing a wink in Aaron's direction. He blushes ever so slightly and shakes his head at you, a small smile gracing his face. You're pretty sure he has no idea what the houses are - the books didn't really come out until he was an adult, by which point you doubted he'd had the time or interest. You'd just have to make sure he read them alongside Jack so he got all the references. While you'd love nothing more than to have Jack be in Slytherin too so you can gang up on Aaron, you had a feeling that in this case, it would be very much like father like son.

Everyone goes to get ready, and you're standing in your bra and underwear, going through the closet to find something to wear. Aaron walks in wearing a black shirt that he hasn't buttoned up yet, as you're sifting through the hangers, holding a dress up to your body as you look at yourself in the mirror.

"You almost ready?" he asks, glancing from the pile of rejected dresses to your dejected face reflected in the mirror.

"I think I've outgrown clubbing attire," you sigh, placing the dress to the top of the pile.

"Let me help."

Aaron moves to the other side of the closet, going through a different row of outfits while you continue on with yours and reject another few.

"What's this?" he asks, holding up a hanger with a plaid skirt and blazer.

You look at him, noting the slightly dilated pupils and how his voice had taken on the slightly deeper quality it did when it was just the two of you. Pretty sure I could get off from him just talking to me. Should try it sometime.

Smirking, you answer, "My old boarding school uniform. Should I pack that to bring back home?"

Aaron clears his throat before speaking. "That would be nice, yes." He hangs the outfit on the door to the closet so you wouldn't forget it.

That would be nice. There was something oddly endearing about the straightforwardness with which he spoke about things of this nature. You chuckle slightly, before edging towards him. "Am I going to need extra credit to pass the class, Professor Hotchner?" you ask teasingly, placing a hand to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat underneath.

Aaron rolls his eyes and huffs slightly before pecking your lips quickly. "Please. Like you'd need extra credit. You'd be the attractive grad student helping me with my research," he replies, grabbing your ass and causing you to yelp and consequently retaliate by pushing him into the wall and dragging his face down to yours.

That's what you liked about Aaron. Even for a fantasy, he wouldn't let you dumb yourself down.

*------------*

You'd managed to pick out a dress finally, and Aaron watches as you strut out of the bathroom, your hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, wearing a short emerald green dress that exposed quite a bit of leg. You'd donned tall strappy heels which he was sure you'd shed halfway through the night and insist on being carried by him. You might like feeling tall but you really hated being in heels for too long.

"So?" you ask, doing a quick twirl for his benefit.

"You look amazing," he tells you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around once more, before bringing it to his lips and sending little butterflies through your stomach. It was kind of astonishing that he could still have that effect on you with the smallest of gestures.

He keeps your hand in his as the two of you exit your room and join the others. JJ was the only one missing as she was making a final good night call to Henry and Will. You let go of Aaron to go rummage around at the bar and gathered up enough shot glasses for everyone.

"We're doing shots!" Emily exclaims, noticing what you're setting and coming around to help you.

"We're doing shots?" Derek groans, looking at you with some amount of trepidation.

"Yes, of course. We're all going clubbing together for the first time. We have to do this right," you tell him, pouring tequila into every glass and setting it on the counter. "Since when did you become an old man?"

"I promise to be extra slutty if you get me drunk enough," Penelope jokes, grabbing a glass and passing one along to both Spencer and Derek.

You pour out a shot of juice and hand that to JJ when she returns, and then quickly congregate everyone in the center of the living room, a shot of tequila in everyone else's hand.

Rossi clears his throat and raises his glass. "Here’s to cheating, stealing, and drinking. May you cheat death, steal hearts, and always drink with me."

With a resounding chorus of Here Here you raise your shot glass and tip it back quickly. Aaron has his arm wrapped around your waist and he squeezes you when he sees you make a face at the taste. You look over to see his mouth pulled up in amusement and you can't help the smile that breaks out on your face despite the harsh taste in your mouth.

*------------*

Your photographer friend, Terry, had sent a limo to pick everyone up, and Aaron had seen the visible change in you as the car pulled up to the club. It was deafeningly loud outside and the flash of cameras could be seen everywhere. Morgan opens the door and exits first, helping the other girls out one by one, following by Reid and Rossi. Aaron looks back at you - you're sitting incredibly straight, your jaw is locked, and your eyes closed - he recognizes it as your way of preparing yourself for the onslaught. He reaches out and squeezes your hand. Opening your eyes, you smile slightly at him, indicating for him to exit first.

He steps out and is met with a sea of cameras and people. He turns back and offers you his hand, which you grab, before delicately standing up and out of the back of the car. Your face breaks out into a wide smile, your eyes big and sparkling. If he didn't know you better, he'd think it was real.

The rest of the team has already walked past a red carpet outside the entrance to the club. There was a line wrapped around the other side - people waiting to enter the club while cars of socialites arrived and had their photo taken, bypassing the line.

Aaron lets you walk ahead, and as you approach the red carpet, the calls of your name get louder and louder. There are lights flashing all around and you easily pose for photographers, smiling graciously and waving hello to people you recognize. He can't help but feel proud of you for handling this so well.

You spin and smile, doing your best to stay in the moment. Aaron is standing to the side, waiting for you to be done with the obligatory photographs. You can't help but be grateful to him for putting up with this - this entire thing was so entirely out of his wheelhouse that you'd half expected him to beg out entirely and go do something else with Rossi for the night. You hadn't expected him to tag along with you to a club opening and actually seem happy about being there.

You reach out to Aaron, indicating for him to join you for a quick photo. You're both dressed up and you didn't want to miss the chance of grabbing a picture of the two of you together - it was already such a rare occurrence. To your surprise, he actually joins you, placing his hand on your waist and smiling at you. He doesn't look at the cameras. He looks only at you.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's grabbed you firmly by the waist and dipped you backwards, his lips meeting yours.

You couldn't believe it, Aaron had tipped you back, his warm lips meeting yours and for a moment the entire world is you two. There's no one else - no people screaming, no cameras, nothing but his hands around your waist holding you up and his lips married to yours in the sweetest of kisses.

As he pulls you back up, your heart threatens to beat out of its cage and you know you must have a dazed look on your face as you look up at him. He seems just as surprised by his actions as you, and you can't help the laugh that escapes you.

The two of you join the rest of the team. Your group is led inside to a private table and you speak briefly with the club owner whom you recognize but can't quite place.

The party is in full swing and the dance floor is positively crowded with people. You all squeeze into the seating area and Emily is quick to flag down a waitress to help out with drinks.

"Alright, well I came here to dance, and since I'm not drinking I expect the rest of you to drink my share," JJ says, standing and reaching for Penelope, who knocks back the shot in her hand before allowing herself to be led to the dance floor.

"Come on pretty boy. We better keep an eye on them." Derek drags Spencer with him and the two of them join the girls on the dance floor.

"You coming?" Emily asks, standing to dance as well.

"In a bit. You go ahead," you nod, indicating towards the spot where Spencer is embroiled in a JJ and Penelope sandwich while Derek does his best to avoid being approached by too many eager women. "Go save Derek."

She laughs, swaying as she stands, and walks over to join him.

You cross yours legs and lean into Aaron's side, still somewhat reeling from the kiss earlier outside. You can't help but love this side of Aaron - you'd feared that these parts of your life were entirely incompatible with him, but seeing him stride over and stand to take a few photos with you and be so publicly affectionate makes you think that maybe - just maybe - the two aren't as incompatible as you'd once thought. Not that this would be something that Aaron would want on a daily basis but you now knew that he could handle it in small doses.

"Alright kid," Rossi says, taking a sip of his scotch, "I think you promised to make this worth my while. And while seeing the little show outside was definitely a highlight," Aaron colors ever so slightly at that, "I think I'm going to need a little something more."

You chuckle, moving your hand from the crook of Aaron's elbow to come and rest comfortingly on his thigh instead. On the team, it was really only Rossi who could talk about him like that to his face.

"Go order a drink at the bar," you tell him.

Rossi raises an eyebrow at you. "We have drinks already."

"Rossi, go. Trust me. Be sure to order something straight up. Also, you don't know me."

He shakes his head, but heeds your words. Standing, he settles his drink down and turns to walk over to the bar. Aaron looks at you quizzically but you merely shake your head. You watch and wait until he has the bartender's attention.

Standing, you stride over to where Rossi is and pause until you see what you were waiting for. "Oh my god! Are you David Rossi?!"

Rossi turns at your high pitched, exaggerated valley girl voice and you can see him stifle a laugh. Instead he simply nods, so you continue, elbowing the girl who was standing next to him.

"I am such a big fan of your work! Serial killers are like, totally my obsession," you say, maintaining your fake voice and speaking far louder than necessary.

"Hm, well maybe the two of us can - "

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before the girl you'd elbowed past earlier appears on his other side and taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"You're an author?" she asks, her voice low and throaty, as she flutters are eyelashes and leans advantageously against the bar.

Rossi smirks at you and nods, before turning to her. You'd done your job.

You make sure to leave in a bit of a huff as though you're annoyed, and walk back to where Aaron was sat, deciding to ignore the vast span of seating available, and simply dropping yourself into his lap.

"That was impressive," he whispers into your ear, having seen the interaction at the bar go down even if he couldn't quite hear it. "But what about Strauss?"

You lean back to look at Aaron. "You do know that they aren't exclusive, right?"

He hadn't known that, and he turns to take in Rossi and the young girl who had chatted him up, leaning far closer to one another than strangers ought to. "I think I could've gone without knowing that, actually."

You laugh. "It's not for everyone."

At his raised eyebrow, you clarify, "It's not for me. I don't share."

He nods. Neither did he.

"Are you going to dance with me at some point tonight?" you ask, indicating to where the rest of the team was.

Aaron glances out at the dance floor. The median age in the room was roughly twenty five and the last time he was even near a club was when you'd gone undercover over a year ago. Watching you dance with strangers and Morgan had been one of the hardest things he'd had to do and that night had fueled quite a few of his dreams before he'd had the real thing next to him most nights.

He's realized that prior to this trip, there had been quite a few things about you and your life before the BAU that he hadn't been privy to. He knows that the reason behind it was partly due to you both - he's hesitant to ask about things you'd rather not relive, while you're reluctant to bring up parts of you that you'd let go of long ago. However, learning all of these new things about you - everything from the stalker and the photographers to how your taste in artwork had evolved and that you were an avid chess player (based on the well-worn, heavy chess set that sat on its own table in the main room of your penthouse) - all of these new things helped him better understand and truly appreciate the person he knew today. You'd conquered so much in far less years than him, dragged yourself through the dark abyss that had swallowed you in the aftermath of Julian's passing, and today stood by his side, embodying everything good he knew to be true in life.

He smiles and with a nod, he helps you get up and allows you to lead him out into the crowd. "You know I don't really grind the way the kids do, right?" he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

You turn and smile at him. "I'll do all the work."

You guide him to the middle of the crowd, allowing the two of you some cover and anonymity from your coworkers. Aaron quickly realizes the advantages of having a girlfriend who used to be a dancer, as you turn in his arms, pressing your back to his front and bringing his arms to wrap around you. The music is pounding around the two of you and the throngs of people makes it feel like one could do almost anything and it would go unnoticed. You move your hips purposefully against him, helping guide his movements as well. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, his lips traversing down the side and to your collar bone and back again, while your hands roam - across his hands, his thighs, and back around through his hair, tightening your grasp and holding him close to you. It's euphoric - the darkness, and music, the lights, and you.

*------------*

You'd managed to round up everyone - even Rossi - and made it out of the club. Penelope had to be dragged away before she could start climbing on tables, with Emily goading her on and ready to join her. A sober JJ was no match for the two of them. Derek and Spencer had to both help Penelope out, while Rossi handled Emily. You'd seen her making out with some cute guy at some point during the night, so you're mostly just glad she hadn't let Eastwood get to her too much.

No one had wanted to end the night quite yet, so the entire group was squished together into a large round booth at the bar around the corner from your place. You'd ended up here many nights when you'd been unwilling to go back to an empty apartment by yourself; Tom, the bartender, your captive audience as you regaled him with stories of the night you'd had.

You're on the outside, next to Aaron, as Derek and Reid argue about some girl who had been hitting on them both and what her intentions might have been. Penelope was of the opinion that the girl had wanted a fun night with the both of them, at which Emily - still drunk - had chimed in saying that if it was on the table, she'd take them both up on it herself. Needless to say, she should be cut off from further alcohol consumption for the night.

"We should really examine why half of our casual conversations have to do with sex," you mumble under your breath so only Aaron can hear. You're pretty sober, having drank very little once you reached the club. You're hyper aware of how different of a position you hold now versus when you'd actually been a crazy party girl.

Aaron breathes out a quiet laugh. "I reckon it's because we're always on cases and no one's getting laid enough," he murmurs back, his eyes dancing in amusement as he half listens to the conversation at the table, the other half of his mind occupied by thoughts of taking you back to the penthouse and having his way with you. Nothing like having your girlfriend rub up against you for hours and not being able to do anything about it, to push a man to the brink of frustration. His hand has quite confidently rested on your thigh, fingers grazing the inside every so often. By now, he knows very well what little things get you worked up.

You extract yourself from him and grab the empty pitchers on the table, going to grab a second round. You needed a breather from Aaron for a moment anyways. The entire night had felt like extremely drawn out foreplay and you had to pace yourself. It was always so much better when it had been built up, and Aaron was far more patient and methodical than you ever could be.

You balance the two pitchers and slowly walk back to the table. You can feel Aaron watching you as you approach, his eyes growing darker. You know the outfit is something he isn't used to. Your wardrobe from before is definitely more on the risqué side and you've felt his scrutiny all night, eyes moving slowly over every inch of you, drinking you in. The only other time you've worn so little is when it's only the two of you behind closed doors. You typically made it a point to save some things for just him.

You set the pitchers down, turning up to meet his heated gaze. You bite your lip - it was crazy how entirely turned on you were. All you wanted was to get out of the bar. Or just drag him into the restroom. You're just contemplating suggesting that as you turn to sit down, when you feel someone approaching behind you.

"Hey Cap."

Your heart falters at the sound of the deep baritone voice behind you. You turn away from Aaron, a small gasp escaping you, your eyes widening as you take in all six feet four inches of the towering man standing behind you. Wearing jeans, a fitted t-shirt, his brown leather bomber jacket slung over one arm - his very essence invading your space. It had been years.

Before you know it, you've propelled yourself up to him, arms around his neck and he is quick to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, nearly lifting you. He's warm and solid and oh so very familiar.

"John," you breathe out, as you slowly let him go, remembering the people seated at the table behind you.

He has a slight smile on his face as he releases you, that you can't help but return. "Since when did you start drinking beer?" he asks teasingly, gesturing towards the table where seven pairs of eyes are looking at the two of you with a great amount of interest.

You let out a breath of a laugh as you turn to face everyone else, a hand guiding John with you. "Guys, this is my friend John Hawthorne. John, these are my coworkers." They all smile - nodding or smiling at him. You shift closer to Aaron, placing a hand on his shoulder, "And this - "

"I'm sorry," John interrupts, "It's nice to meet all of you," he smiles politely around the table before turning to look at you, his face the picture of apology marred only by the urgency that has entered his tone. "Can we talk?" he asks, nodding towards the door leading outside.

You nod immediately, a rush of worry flowing through you. "I'll be back," you tell Aaron, your mind still slightly in shock as you feel John's warm hand at your lower back, helping guide you outside.

Aaron watches as John places his hand to your back, and as he does, Aaron's eye is caught by some writing on his hand. Just above the wrist, in a familiar black script, Aaron sees a date that he is all too familiar with. A date his lips have tasted, his fingers have traced, and his soul has imprinted into its very self. His eyes quickly move back up to you, but you've already turned away, allowing John to lead you away and out the door.

"Oh my goodness! The ass on that man!" Garcia exclaims as soon as you're out of earshot. "Who was that? Was that her special friend?" she asks, turning to Morgan. If anyone would know it would be either him or Emily and Emily looked just as intrigued as she did.

Morgan glances at Hotch quickly before nodding at Garcia, which results in a squeal that she quickly covers up - poorly - as a cough, when she catches Hotch's eye.

Prentiss - in her drunken state - hasn't quite caught on to the awkwardness that has settled on the table as everyone realizes that you had just walked out the door with the man who was - as far as they knew - your ex lover. "I would climb that man like a jungle gym," Prentiss declares loudly, knocking back the rest of her drink.

"Anyways," JJ interjects, thankfully sober, "we should figure out the plan for tomorrow - are we all going back to DC at the same time?"

With the topic of conversation sufficiently changed, Aaron's mind is free to think over what had just happened. He's figured out why the man appeared familiar. It was from the photos he'd seen from your cotillion. He hadn't been your date, he'd seemed older than you, much closer in age to Julian. However, it was unmistakably the same man. He looked at you in the same manner he had back then. The two of you had matching tattoos of your brother's birthdate. He wonders why that hasn't ever come up before - that someone else's skin is marked to mirror yours.

He feels an odd unease start to fester within him and he keeps eyeing the door, as though expecting you to walk back in - hopefully alone - any second. He knows you feel safe with this man - you would've never gone off alone with him otherwise. With every minute that passes, Aaron feels an odd pit of dread growing in his stomach, despite knowing that you're more than capable of handling yourself. It was jarring how quickly his temperament had changed - the two of you had been teasing and touching all night and he had noticed the dark spark in your eyes when you'd returned, typically a sign that he was about to like whatever came out of your mouth next, very much.

Nearly thirty minutes pass and there's no sign of you, and the team is ready to head back to the penthouse to sleep. "Aaron, why don't you go find Y/N?" Dave says kindly. Aaron had been fidgety ever since you left. "We'll handle the tab and meet you out there."

He nods, grabbing his jacket, but not bothering to put it on. You hadn't brought one and would be freezing cold in that tiny little scrap you had called a dress. He leaves the warmth of the bar and pushes open the heavy door. Just across the street, he catches sight of you and John. You're facing one another, John's jacket is draped around your shoulders, the two of you visible in silhouette, backlit by the street lamp behind.

He's about to call out your name, when John leans down and capture your lips. It's as if Aaron was watching in slow motion - it feels like it goes on forever - the image of another man's lips on yours stamping itself to the inside of his head.

The door clangs shut behind him finally, drawing both of your attentions, and Aaron sees you turn and catch him staring at you in what was probably shock, but he's never had a stroke before and it could just as easily be that.

You look at him and he can't make out your face, but you turn away and say a few more words to John, who backs away from you slightly. Aaron is unsure of how to proceed. What was the proper procedure when someone saw another man kiss their girlfriend. Was he supposed to storm over in a rage? Was he supposed to fight this man? Never before had he been confronted with the reality of such a situation. His rational side implores him to remain calm and simply wait and talk to you, while putting up a valiant fight against the demon within, who threatens to rip out from his chest and emerge into the world in order to avenge this complete betrayal.

He watches silently as you jaywalk across the street, quickly making your way towards him.

"Aaron," you begin, before you're even close enough. He's never heard his name from your mouth shaped in quite that way. It causes his stomach to twist uncomfortably and his mouth feels like cotton.

Before you can say anything further - before he can respond - the door to the bar opens again and the rest of the team comes ambling out.

Your eyes are trained on him, searching his face for something - a hint at a reaction, but he's been careful to school his expression through years of training. He can feel the fight inside him, uncertain at how he feels and doing its best to assess and analyze the situation instead of allowing himself to succumb to the baser emotions that rule his head when it comes to you. You'd left John immediately, you're back here standing in front of him and it is as though he could taste the acrid guilt flowing off of you. A part of him wants to reassure you immediately that it was alright and the two of you would talk about what happened and you would explain and everything would be fine. However, the larger part of him knows that there is more at play right now and he can't say or do anything until he knows for sure where he stands after having seen that.

"Later," he manages to get out, looking quickly from you to the team.

You would know better. Not in front of the team. Not in front of people.

You nod just barely and he can see a visible shiver run through you, having returned John's jacket to him before you crossed the street. He's reminded why he's carrying his own jacket. He walks over to you, draping it around your shoulders. He can see you almost recoil from the gesture despite how cold he knows you must be, before recalling the presence of everyone around you and thinking better of it.

Aaron looks up, over your head, and sees John still standing across the street where you'd left him. His eyes were trained on you alone.

*------------*

Aaron's jacket felt far too heavy around you. You couldn't believe what had just happened. Aaron wasn't supposed to see that. He shouldn't have seen that! You can't even imagine what he's thinking at that moment. You'd crossed the street, fully prepared to talk to him, fully prepared to explain it all away - ease his worries and soothe any concerns he had. Because you were his.

As you'd approached, you'd caught a quick second of the look in his eyes, revealing exactly how confused and betrayed he felt, before he'd slipped on the mask that hid him away from you.

You're hit with a stab - you'd hurt him.

Everyone else appearing had thrown a wrench into the immediacy of your need to talk to Aaron. He'd still put his jacket around you. Still buttoned the top button for you. He wasn't raging mad - but you knew he wouldn't be. He wasn't a reactionary sort of person, but right now that might be better than nothing, you think.

You hurt him.

He saw someone else kiss you. You know how you would've reacted if the tables were turned and yet, he was being calm. He was being calm in the way he was when he negotiates a hostage deal - overtly so to the point that nothing can shake him and all he becomes is a human risk calculator. His fury isn't a boiling rage; it's a burning frost, leaving piercing icicles in its wake.

You hurt him.

It appears most everyone had sobered up considerably as you all walk the two blocks to your place. Your hands are shaking as your mind goes a mile a minute. John hadn't known - not that that would be of much consolation to Aaron - but he hadn't. You hadn't gotten a chance to tell him about Aaron and there had been a small part of you, once you were outside with John, that didn't quite wanted to tell him. You didn't think much good would come from him knowing you were happy with someone else. You couldn't have anticipated that he would kiss you. It had happened so quickly.

Derek holds the door open for everyone as you lead the group, waving everyone past security. In the elevator, you feel Emily standing right behind you instead of Aaron. He's at the opposite corner, not looking at you, but instead looking straight ahead. You feel another sharp pang.

You hurt him.

As everyone exits the elevator, all you're hoping to do is head to your room so that you can talk to Aaron. However, you have no such luck.

"Hey, Y/N," Penelope asks softly, "was that your friend? Your friend from New York?"

You can tell she's merely curious. She doesn't know what happened. You were gone for so long, it makes sense that they'd all wonder. Sighing you turn and see that the rest of them seem just as interested in your answer as her. All with the exception of Aaron who's leaned against the wall before the hallway, leading to your bedroom. He appears entirely closed off and he doesn't so much look at you as he does look through you - like he doesn't even know you.

You hurt him.

You sigh internally, knowing you need to talk to him as soon as possible, no matter how much you're beginning to dread it now. The fifteen minutes since you'd crossed the street and approached him afterwards felt like hours ago. You can't help but race through what he must be thinking - he'd seen someone who - if Derek had helped them piece it together - he knew to be the last person you'd been with before him. It was the first time he was meeting John and he had no idea who John was really. To come upon the sight of John kissing you - knowing Aaron, he's already thought through every piece of evidence available to him and come to whichever terrible conclusion was holding him as far away from you as possible.

However, there were other people present - people who supported you, cared for you, and who were all looking at you in question. You owed them the truth about what had happened. They didn't deserve to be lied to by you.

You nod slowly, very aware of everyone's attention on you. "Yes. That was John," you say, speaking carefully. "He's a friend - he was Julian's best friend. We all grew up together. When he heard I was back in the city, he wanted to come and offer his - " you let out a breath and swallow, feeling completely overwhelmed by everything. "He wanted to offer his regards on my father's death."

That catches Derek's attention. You can see him assess your words and hone in on regards. Regards and not condolences. "You told him," he says, his voice sharp. He's not asking. He knows you did. Derek stares you down - his expression a mixture of shock and judgement that you're not used to being on the receiving end of.

You're barely able to meet his eyes, so instead you slip out of Aaron's jacket and place it on the arm of the couch, despite how cold you feel. "Yes."

"Everything?" Emily asks, her face a mix of worry and the struggle to focus as she tries to comprehend what's happening through the haze of tequila still clouding her brain.

You nod again, feeling pinprick tears in your eyes that you're quick to dismiss. Only three other people in the world besides you knew what that meant, and they were all in that room. Now there was one more name on that list. You can't look at Aaron. You can't stand to see the disappointment in his face. Not right now. Not on top of everything.

"That was a classified case." Derek's voice holds the tinge of accusation.

You look from him to the rest of them. Rossi, Reid, JJ, and Penelope appear a little bit confused at Emily's question and you hope they won't think about it too much. Rossi probably suspects. You've often thought that he knows the truth about how your father died. Derek stands very tall, intimidatingly so. Emily is worried. You know she doesn't care if you told. Aaron won't look at you, his face betraying nothing.

You look around the room at all of them. They'd all risked their lives on that case. Emily, Derek, and Aaron had completely covered for you and helped you escape the worst of the aftermath of your father's death. Had they not helped you - covered for you - you definitely wouldn't be in the Bureau right now. They'd all kept a terrible secret for you and you had never once been investigated as a result.

It had been entirely different from when Aaron had killed Foyet despite his surrender - Aaron had brunt the professional consequences and nearly lost his job because of it. It had only been due to the committee understanding the charged nature of the event, combined with Aaron's otherwise impeccable reputation, that he had been allowed to stay. His had been in the heat of the moment while his dead wife lay in the other room. You had planned your killing.

You look at Derek and find yourself nodding. It was time for you to stop getting away with stuff - using people to shield you from the rightful reckoning. No one in the room should have to suffer through the culpability of protecting you. They didn't owe you that. If anything, your past indiscretions had proven you to be entirely undeserving of it.

"I know. I don't expect any of you to keep this quiet," you say, your voice shaking ever so slightly, hands bunched into tight fists. Steeling yourself, you continue, "John was the only person I had after Julian - the only person who also knew the truth and who was just as affected by his death as I was. He was there for me when I had absolutely no one. I felt like he deserved to know. However, I cannot expect the rest of you to either share my view on the matter or expose yourself to retribution for keeping this quiet. You should tell Strauss if you are at all uncomfortable with this."

As you finish, you look around the room. Your words have rendered all of them into a dumbfounded silence. They cannot understand how you could so plainly ask them to turn you in for your actions. However, they're unaware of the dam of  guilt that had overflowed within you earlier when you'd caught sight of Aaron. Your actions - against him, against the team, against the Bureau - were entirely reprehensible. Whether they were intentional or not was of little concern. You would welcome punishment - not for the sake of penance, but because you deserved to suffer the consequences of your actions for once in your life.

You're unable to look at Aaron again. Usually you can see his love and adoration for you clearly in his profoundly brown eyes; his eyes were empty now. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him and be met by vacant eyes that left you feeling cold - your heart would splinter at the sight.

"Sugar," Penelope starts, breaking the silence and walking towards you slowly, the way one would with a frightened animal. Her voice is calm and soothing, designed to draw you in and allow her to help you. "No one here is going to say anything to Strauss. We trust you."

You want to recoil from her, the thrumming of blood pumping through your veins entirely too loud in your ears. "Don't do that," you tell her. "Do not make excuses for me. Do not make exceptions for me. I did something that could potentially endanger all of you. It would not be fair to expect you to keep this quiet for me."

Penelope stalls on her way towards you, uncertain of how to proceed. She looks around at the rest of them, the only sound in the room stemming from the air conditioning turning on and the sound of your harsh breathing as you try your best to compose yourself and keep from caving in under the weight of your own judgement.

It's Rossi who speaks next, after looking around at the room, for a consensus - his eyes honed in on Aaron, standing uncharacteristically apart from you and silent in the face of your confession. "Family's the people you make exceptions for, kid," he says kindly, his mouth quirking up in a half smile as he walks past Penelope towards you.

You watch him approach. Family's the people you make exceptions for. Family.

You look around at all of them - Derek, JJ, Emily, Spencer, Penelope - they all nod with him, even through their initial concerns and questions. They'd all seen you throw yourself at the mercy of the guillotine and they'd said no. Not a single one of them would allow that - not while they were around. You were theirs to protect.

A quiet sob escapes you, despite your efforts to keep it in. Your eyes are clouded by tears as Penelope reaches you and tucks you into her, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. One by one, they all approach you, offering a quick hug or a smile - reassuring you that it would be alright. They had your back, no matter what.

You're not sure you're deserving of such faith and trust from all of them.

"I think it's time we all went to bed," Rossi says quietly, as soon as Spencer lets go of you.

Everyone agrees and they all make their way down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Rossi lingers in the hallway for a moment, looking at both you and Aaron, a concerned look on his face, before he too opens the door to his bedroom and closes it behind.

If the rest of them had noticed Aaron's complete absence for your admission and subsequent plea, they hadn't let on. He'd stayed against the wall the entire time - through all of it, never once approaching you like the others.

It's just the two of you left now in the living room. You force yourself to look up to meet his eyes, but you don't get the chance to force words out of your mouth before he looks away. He turns and heads down the hallway, and you watch as he opens the door to the bedroom and enters, leaving the door open behind him.

You hurt him.

[dissonantdreamer]

What would your headcannon be for Ellie’s room? like before the outbreak had even started :) personally I feel like she would have tons of drawings in her room and comics but like the overall aesthetic I feel like it would be space themed or something (I realize u get a lot of sad quotes asks from other anons I wanted to be the positive anon so here you go!) also not saying you get poor asks but u know what I mean

In a modern setting before the outbreak? I can see all of the things you mentioned in her room. I can also see her liking coffee since it’s more common she might get a taste for it sooner, especially if she grew up in Boston. She would definitely have a bunch of dunkin’s coffee cups, energy drink cans and mugs, everywhere cause she keeps forgetting to clean them up and then they kind live there and it becomes a matter of don’t accidentally drink the paint water while she working.

She’d have a little planetarium that puts various hemispheres on her ceiling to make up for that fact that city lights make it harder to see the sky (though she and Riley would take day/weekend trips up north to the mountains) There’s a corner for music covered in band posters and ticket stubs, probably near a window she kinda chills on and plays for herself.  Lots of fairy lights strung up, notebooks scattered around with journal entries and drawings, sticky note reminders for herself.

I think she’s have a really good sound system too, not a brand new one, but one of the old stereo systems that was well made and she was gifted it by someone. Lots of fairy lights strung up on the walls lighting up some of here work.  There is also a single medium sized T-Rex toy she’s had forever that’s on the top of her bookshelf full of comics an reference books (for art and space). Overall, I think it would be an extension of what we see in game. If she was able to have access to the things she had to hunt down every time post outbreak.

you’re real sweet, anon. Thanks for bringing a little positivity to my ask box :)

The quotes don’t bother me as much as I made it seem. Sometimes I get asks I don’t know what to do with and those quotes with no context felt like free reign for me to fuck around with because why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I liked imagining they were being sent to get back at me because I constantly post all the sad things I find in game. They were amusing to me.

Thanks for the ask, this was fun to think about :D

[akaashisupremacy]

Chasing Springtime

Summary: Kei Tsukishima, now in college, reacquaints himself with a childhood friend. They explore a museum together where they reminisce about their time in junior high. Old feelings that he has long shoved aside resurface.

Notes: Kaori Miyahara is an original character, but readers are free to put themselves into her shoes! This is my first fic and I love museums. There will be more chapters to come and let me know if you have any feedback.

Read it in (Ao3) 

Spring (February) 2018 || Sendai Modern and Contemporary Art Museum || Sendai City || 3:00 PM

“I haven’t been to many contemporary art museums before,”  Kei Tsukishima  admitted as he followed Kaori Miyahara into one of the temporary exhibit galleries.

Although Tsukki hoped to work in a museum after he graduated college, he mostly envisioned a historical or science museum. He hadn’t considered any art museums because he wasn’t too familiar with them.

Growing up in the suburbs, there was not a big emphasis on the arts. Tsukki later regretted not paying more attention to the subject because it would have made the Introduction to Modern and Contemporary Arts class he was taking far less daunting. The class itself was interesting and eye opening, but he had felt like he lacked the actual experience with such art to fully appreciate the course. Towards the end of last year’s winter term, he had a conversation with his classmate Kaori visiting more museums to have a better understanding at how his courses will be useful for his planned career.

On one of the last few weeks of the winter term, he entered the classroom to find Kaori with a bunch of museum brochures spread out on her desk. He plopped on his desk next to hers and took out his notebook in preparation for their class.

“What’s with all the brochures?” he asked. Kaori was also in her first year in university. He hadn’t been classmates with her for years, but even then her desk remained messy before class. Some things never change.

Kaori turned her body towards him, sitting on the side of her chair and waved some of the brochures at him. The professor had not yet arrived, everyone was milling around talking about the upcoming spring break.

“How many of these have you actually been to?” she asked.

“I’ve been to those two and that one,” he pointed to one of the brochures on her desk. He took out his headphones and began placing his notes and pens on his desk.

“I’m sure I’ve been to more when I was younger but I haven’t been in some of these in so long I’m not sure what their interiors look like anymore.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Did you know that there were this many museums in the area?’ she asked, stacking the brochures on her desk.

“I guess not,” he shrugged, preparing to slip his headphones back on.

“I’m taking a class on Museum Management next semester and I don’t even know what most of the museums in the area look like. I’m not updated on their latest collections or their educational programs, I can already feel myself struggling at the subject.” she sighed. He could see a cloud of gloom start to gather on her head.

Tsukki honestly felt it was a little early to be panicking for a subject that started next term. He tried to reassure her, saying that many of her classmates would be on the same boat.

“There are so many I haven’t been to. I’ve been so focused on gymnastics when I lived here. I really should go to more museums.”she mumbled with her hands cupping her face, “I mean I’ve been to more museums when I lived in Tokyo because I was injured when I lived there. it’s great and all, but I’m not really taking my internship there.”

“Same,” he sighed, putting his hands behind his head, “Not about the Tokyo museums, but about visiting more museums. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You’re competing on both a team and as an individual gymnast. Of course that’s time consuming.”

Most gymnasts only competed on either team or individual. Kaori was technically recruited to compete on the team, but sometimes she competed on her individual because she had some difficult skills in her arsenal from her elite days.

“I actually wish we were required to go to museums every two weeks or so that we’ll be more updated about their latest collections, ne?” she mulled over with hands clasped together staring into the blackboard.

“Kaori, I’m sure most of your classmates wouldn’t have gone to that many museums either. I mean you’ll probably go to more throughout college right? Why would you ask for extra work in class? You seem to be doing pretty well.

Beside, we’re reading up on a lot of the things inside the museum. Isn’t that enough?” he said. Tsukki waved his notes. He reached out to take a handful of brochures from her desk and looked through them.

Kaori shook her head.

“Reading about history and art is very different from seeing it in front of your eyes. I feel like I understand the subject better when I know and see what they’re talk about. Visiting museums is important even if it’s not required by class, Tsukki.”

“I mean you could still do it on your own right?” he asked, with one brow up.

Kaori pouted and gave him the side eye, “You’re placing a lot of faith in my self- initiative. I mean, would you go on your own will? Regularly?”

“If I had someone to keep me accountable I guess,” he shrugged, handing the brochures back to her. Maybe she did have a point about required attendance.

Tsukki convinced her to form a museum club for two where they planned to go to museums on every other Sunday afternoon. Their first trip was to the 3M Science Museum, which catered more to Tsukki’s interest and the city museum the session after. Today it was an art museum, which was more up Kaori’s alley.

“Should we head to the temporary or permanent galleries first…” he asked, browsing through the map on the brochure. There was a temporary exhibit on Southeast Asian art, a children’s biennale of sorts and of course the permanent collections.

“We’re a little pressed. We can always visit the permanent collections another time, so the temporary exhibit might be best.” said Kaori, mentally calculating the time they should spend on the temporary collection to be able to quickly go through the permanent collection.

“My mom’s from Southeast Asia and I lived there for a few years, so I’m always curious what their art has to say especially in exhibits abroad,” she added. They presented their tickets at the counter and the staff directed them towards the Southeast Asia exhibit.

“I thought you said your mom was Chinese?” he asked, a little bit surprised. Tsukki didn’t know much about Kaori’s mother from the times he has seen her. He just knew she was Chinese because Kaori almost always perfected the kanji sections of their exam when they were in Junior High.

“Yeah, but she grew up in Southeast Asia because her parents migrated there.” she answered.

A lot of the paintings that came from the exhibit were Social-Realists, which reflected the realities and struggles of the Third World countries. The texts explained that although abstraction was a widespread movement in the region, artists feel a responsibility towards amplifying the voices of the masses.

“Cool! A movie.” she exclaimed, kicking off her boots as she hopped onto the mats. Kaori promptly sank into a chair.

Tsukki read through the exhibit caption before he followed suit. Kaori had kind of just dumped her shoes at the edge of the mat. He straightened them up and placed them besides his at a corner.

“It says the Thai artist wanted to film protests for workers rights in a rural area in Thailand, then something about it being a larger commentary on capitalism. A lot of the works here are so politically charged.” he commented, dragging a bean bag closer to her, “Does any of this match up with your experience when you lived there?”

“Not really, but you have to remember that I was really young and that my mom’s family were well-off. Majority of the people in the region are not as affluent. That and I’ve never lived in Thailand.” she sighed, “I heard the food there is really spicy.”

“Isn’t poverty a universal experience though?” he said, sitting back onto his bean bag. “I mean poverty exists here in Japan too. Why is Southeast Asian poverty so special that you would base an entire region’s works around it?”

Kaori’s eyes widened at his words. She looked at him with her eyebrow raised and her mouth ajar. Tsukki jerked back and waved his hands side to side in apology - a break from his usual demeanor.

“Ah…sorry, that’s not what I meant. What I wanted to say was ahh...their poverty seems to be branded with their Southeast Asian-ness. It’s like regular poverty mixed with...the stuff from pre-colonial Southeast Asian history class. It’s like they’re really emphasizing how Southeast Asian they are through their poverty. ” he rubbed the back of his neck as he explained, “I’m not sure I explained it that well.”

“There’s a duo from the Philippines that told me that when they do that kind of thing, they are more likely to get funding from Japan. I met them at a Yokohama show when I was in Tokyo. They regularly get grants from Japan Foundation so it must be a formula that works.” she said matter-of-factly.

“Isn’t that a little disconcerting? That they have to show themselves as poor to get funding for their art?” he asked, shaking his head, “Shouldn’t there be a better criteria for funding? Like merit or something.”

Kaori sat back and looked at him in the eye, “All this almost feels like a show of how different and advanced Japan is. Since we don’t experience this kind of poverty here, it makes people feel better about their conditions you know.” She let herself slump at her seat as she talked, “The message is this: we don’t need these movements to be widespread because these problems supposedly don’t exist.”

Tsukki was surprised at the sharpness of her words. He had never thought about art that way. I mean he knew that art could be used as propaganda, but the subtlety of nuances of a Southeast Asian contemporary art exhibit was astonishing if Kaori was indeed right.

“Ahh I’m not sure how acceptable it is to say out loud. The Japanese can be prissy about discussions on politics. The culture here is rather compliant. People would rather obey than speak up.” she said, fiddling with her jacket as she stared at the film, “ And…I think I’ve made you uncomfortable. Just so you know, I’m not accusing you of anything. Compliance is a structure. ”

He shook his head, “…more than anything I think what you said has given me something to think about. I don’t feel targeted, don’t worry.”

Her vocabulary had become so sharp and radical. Kaori had the tendency to be critical about politics from an early age or “edgy” as some of the schoolmates would describe her, but even this caught him a little off guard.  

“Besides, just because this is all propaganda doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy its other merits,” he said standing up and preparing to leave.

Another couple entering the matted space turned to look at Tsukki. He looked slightly embarrassed.

“That’s right my leftist friend,” she said, winking at him, laughing inside at his discomfort. Tsukki nudged her side as she put her shoes back on.

“God, Kaori! You can be so cheeky sometimes.” he gritted his teeth, muttering at her, helping her up.

“Apologies, comrade.” she teased, walking on her tiptoes towards the next installation.

In the middle of the exhibit was a video installation that filled an entire wall. Mats covered the floor and bean bag chairs were spread all around encouraging visitors to sit and watch the film. A few visitors looking to rest were seated in the area. It looked like a casual film-viewing experience. After sitting in the area for a few minutes, they quickly moved onto to other works.

Tsukki’s favorite installation was probably one from Singapore. There wasn’t much text available about it, except that it made use of Ryuichi Sakamoto’s works such as Andata and Ubi that it was previously exhibited in the National Singapore Gallery.

The installation was fenced like a loose, dark maze. It was pitch black except for the patches of light emanating from tablet sized screens showing vignettes of apartment living rooms at night. The living rooms were shown from different angles all illuminated by TV screens as music by Sakamato, a renowned film music composer played in the background. Each tablet played a different piece.

“I like this one,” he said approvingly, “It’s unlike anything we’ve read in class.It’s more than paintings on walls. It’s a whole room of art!”

“It’s a great way to portray isolation in the cities.” she nodded.

Tsukki had barely pinpointed what he liked about the exhibit. Kaori had already summed up what it was about. The closest work they’ve discussed at class in relation to the installation was probably Rothko, an American abstractionist who painted huge canvases of color in hopes of moving people through the sheer size and emotion emanating from the painting.

“Reminds me of Edward Hopper,” she said, bending down a bit, to look at one of the screens.

Tsukki, who was peering at one the screens placed so low he had to crouch to be able to look, sat up straight. Hopper…that name seemed familiar. He probably took it up in his modern art class last semester. Maybe an American artist.

“American modernist who portrayed isolation of the city living. He had some works portraying how empty cities were during World War 2.” she said, as if reading her thoughts. “The professor barely mentioned it. I became a huge fan of his work when I was younger.”

Tsukki breathed a sigh of relief. Today was a Sunday, but he felt like he was being tested in school. Both of them took their time viewing each tablet, relishing in the details of each screen. They had stayed long enough that the music began to change to atmospheric noises and other atmospheric music.

Kaori had decided she was done before Tsukki was, so she sauntered over his side about a meter away, as not to pressure him to finish up. He sensed she was done and turned to her.

“Do you like this installation?” he asked. Her shape barely carved itself in the dark, but he could hear her breathing softly and the rustling of her jacket gave way where she stood while patiently waiting for him to finish.

“I do. The use of music makes me think about how different this installation would be if the music choices were switched. Andata is looming and melancholic right? It sounds like a silent scream. It heightens the alienation implied by the empty living rooms. If I changed it into something else, the feel would be totally different.” she whispered so quickly that he had to replay what she said in his head.  

Tsukki could sense Kaori was brewing with ideas. She sounded excited, and a little distracted by her own thoughts as if a million thoughts were racing in her head.

“What song would you put in place to change the mood?” he asked.

Kaori brought out her phone. She looked around to see if the light would distract other viewers. Thankfully there was no one else in the installation. She tapped his headphones around his neck indicating that she wanted to borrow his chord. He drew out the chord from his phone in his pocket and handed it to her. His fingers touched the center of her palm.

Illuminated by the light of her phone, Kaori instructed him to look at the nearest screen. He put his headphones on. She played Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes which was a song from the fifties sung by a barbershop quartet. The song transformed the living into a scene of possible domestic bliss. The modern living room juxtaposed with a vintage song created the semblance of residents that liked a fun throwback.

She wiggled her finger and pressed another song, playing “Careless Whisper by George Michael". Tsukki smirked, suppressing his laughter. This was a sharp contrast to Sakamoto and Chordettes’ pieces indeed. He took out his headphones.

“But what would you play to describe your own living room?” he asked.

Kaori thought for a moment and searched through her phone, her face barely lit.

“Ahh” she exclaimed, gesturing for him to put his headphones back. The piece she played combined ambient noises in a park such as the croaking of frogs and chirping of birds and layered with a piano composition that mimicked the sensation of light rains and wind.

“Your living room in Karasuno?” he guessed. Considering he lived next door, the sounds they heard in their backyard were pretty similar.

Kaori nodded, “Sounds like your living room too when you open the windows.”

Kaori and Tsukki were neighbors during Junior High. Although Kaori’s schedule was always tight (even during their breaks) because she wanted to compete at the elite level of gymnastics, they spent many whatever time they had free in each other’s backyard, tossing a volleyball around or watching shows on Tsukki’s computer.

Sometime in their second year, Tsukki became embarrassed about being seen around Kaori in school because their classmates would tease them together. At a time when first crushes and romances were novel, Tsukki found the whole thing an irritable debacle. Although he easily stood up to bullies, the teasing still got to him. He didn’t want people to think Kaori was his girlfriend. Tsukki’s distancing did not sit well with Kaori. She understood his concern but felt that it wasn’t an excuse to stop being friends.

One afternoon, when Kaori’s parents weren’t home. She thought it was the perfect opportunity to hang out with him because there was no one around. The sound of a volleyball being tossed up in the air indicated that Tsukki was out playing in his backyard. It was a relatively peaceful day. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, frogs were croaking in the distance. Tsukki’s footsteps lightly scratched on the dirt beneath his feet.

She climbed the brick wall between them and propped herself up on her forearms.

“Tsukki! Tsukki! Hey!!!” she said, struggling to keep herself on the wall. Tsukki turned to the direction of the wall. He was jolted by the sound of her voice, stumbling back on his own feet.

“How did you climb the wall? What are you doing??” He hissed, scrambling to stand back up. Kaori was like a monkey sometimes.

“Do you wanna watch a musical? Let’s watch a musical!” she smiled, waving at him.

“No.” he sternly pouted, folding his arms and staring at her. He was determined to spend less time with her, the memory of school teasing still fresh on his mind.

“You just don’t wanna hang out with me, because I’m a girl right? If I was a boy, you’d totally hang out with me like Yamaguchi!” she yelled, “You’re not even busy-”

Kaori lost her grip on the wall and slipped down the wall. Tsukki gasped. He heard a thud into the dirt. In a shot of adrenaline, he scrambled up his side of the wall to check if she was alright.

“Kaori! Are you okay?” he asked, holding himself up on the wall. His feet were slipping. He urged himself to stay up.

Kaori sat on her butt. She rolled backwards and quickly stood on her feet.

“I’m fine. Thanks. Didn’t think you’d be concerned,” she said, sticking her tongue out at me “since you don’t want to be friends anymore looks like it.”

“I just don’t want people teasing that you’re my girlfriend because you’re not.” he said, his brows furrowed.

“Why can’t you just tell that? Do you really have to go around avoiding me sometimes? If you don’t want to be friends, I’ll just go find new friends!!!” she said out loud, crossing her arms. Kaori made friends easily, Tsukki had no doubt that she could easily find someone else to bother.

“Everyone nearby is kind of in college. Who are you going to be friends with?” he said, cocking his head.

“I’ll bike to the next corner!” she called out, raising her voice at Tsukki who was struggling to stay hanging on the wall.

Tsukki couldn’t hold on anymore and slipped back down to the dirt of his backyard. He tried to climb back up. He couldn’t. Although he was tall, he was relatively skinny for his height. He didn’t have a lot of strength or athleticism.

“Ok, fine let’s watch a musical. Just don’t be so noisy. You can come over. Bring your own headphones.” he sighed, talking to her from his side of the wall.

When he didn’t hear a reply, he called her name, “Kaori?” Had she gone into her house in deliberate measure to ignore him?

Kaori managed to climb on the wall with her arms folded in front of her.

“Yes? Did you try climbing over again? I heard some scuffles on the wall.” she grinned with a glint in her eye. Tsukki could just feel that she enjoyed watching him struggle.

“Just come,” he scowled, rolling his eyes.

“Ok!” she smiled, dropping back down into her side.

The two spent the next hour and a half in the Tsukishima family living room watching a live recording of “Singing in the Rain” off a computer. They sat squeezed together on the couch with the computer placed on each of their laps. Kaori tapped her fingers to the beat of the songs. Tsukki lightly hummed to the few melodies he was familiar with. Both fully absorbed in the story set at the end of the silent film era.

After they watched the musical, Tsukki got Kaori to toss the volleyball for him in his backyard.

“You should do a routine to ‘Singing in the Rain’! It would look cool with your clubs or hoop apparatus.” he said excitedly. He promised to get Yamaguchi to watch her competition if she did the said routine.

“I think it would be quite good with the hoops too! Hopefully my coach will let me do it next season. Almost everyone does Pop or Classical music in rhythmic gymnastics, it can get really boring.” she sighed, changing her toss to an underhand receive. She hit the incoming ball and sent it up high.

“Nice receive! You’re really improving.” he said, watching where the ball was falling. He promptly catches it with an overhand toss.

“Thanks, it’s from all this tossing that we’re doing.” she said, her eyes glued to the ball.

While they toss the ball back and forth, Tsukki begins whistling the main melody of Singing in the Rain.

“How do you do that? I’ve always wanted to whistle! ” she asked, trying to whistle but to no avail. Tsukki shrugs his shoulders. He tries to teach her how to shape her lips. Kaori tries a couple of times and sighs in defeat. His whistling blends in with the sound of chirping birds and they continue to play until dinnertime.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who wrote this piece? It’s great.” he said, moving his headphones back down to his neck gesturing to ask for her phone.

“Belle Chen, she’s a contemporary classical musician. You should download her music” she said, showing him her profile. “What would you play to describe your house?”

“Sukiyaki is something my mom would play.” he thought. His mother had a penchant for 60’s pop songs that she would blast while she cleaned and cooked.

The two exited the installation into a series of dimly lit installations. They found themselves out on a hallway with colorful glass with a long net of wind-chimes on the ceiling.

“Pity that they didn’t put this outdoors. The wind would create more variations with the sound. Here it’s just being regularly blasted by the air conditioning.” she commented.

As Tsukki’s eyes adjusted to the light, he rebutted, “Maybe they placed the chimes here not for the source of wind, but for the light source. If this installation was outdoors, if this whole hallways was outdoors…the transition from a series of dimly lit areas into the sun would be quite jarring. The artificial light with the gentle rustling of the chimes would be a gentle reminder to the senses about the transition of spaces.”

Kaori still thought the chimes were best placed outside, reminiscent of the sound of chimes and bells during a temple visit but Tsukki did make a good argument for its current placement. They sat on the benches laid out on the hallway, listening to the chimes.

“What about here? What music will you play here?” he asked.

Kaori didn’t even blink. She extended her hand for his chord and plugged him in then played Sudden Rush of Memories by the Shanghai Restoration Project. Electronic synth music filled syncopations at the start that mellowed as it went on. Piano mixed with mimicked shuttling of a passing. It was colorful and evocative of a transcendental past.

It reminded Tsukki of the rustling of the wind, trees and sunlight peeking through the branches of “The Spot”. His first adventure at “The Spot”  when he was pedalling home after an afternoon spent at his volleyball youth group when he was 12 turning 13 on his first year in Junior High. He opted not to compete in his Junior High varsity team so his brother suggested that he sometimes practice with the adults from the town association to sharpen his skills in between his regular youth group. Practice had run later than usual and the sky was getting dark fast. He felt relieved that he didn’t have school the next day, so even if he had morning practice, he would have time to rest tonight.

On the last slope of the hill before he reached the street of his home, he heard a frantic pedalling from behind that threatened to derail his peaceful downward descent. He swiftly looked back to find Kaori Miyahara wide-eyed  and struggling to control her bike at the frenzied speed she was going.

In a split second decision, Tsukki hit the brakes on his bike and swerved into the nearest wall he could find to prevent colliding with Kaori. He lightly hit himself on the wall, relatively unscathed. Kaori hastily pulled the brakes as soon as she made it down hill. She pressed so hard that she almost flew off her bike.

Tsukki pedalled down and told her to watch where she was going as she picked herself up onto her bike.

“Can you watch where you’re going next time? That was reckless and dangerous!” he told her off. He re-adjusted his glasses and put himself back onto his bike.

Kaori seemed shaken up and as she looked up to apologise to him her eyes were at the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry!” she said, bowing her head.

Her shoulders started shaking as she slowly lifted her head. Tsukki’s eyes widened. He was tall, even for someone who was 12, so even if Kaori was over 5 feet tall, she looked terribly small to him, especially when she cowered as she cried and pitiable. He held back his impulse to call her lame.

“It’s alright. Hey, look it’s not a big deal.” he nodded, dusting himself returning to his usual nonchalant tone. Kaori would not stop crying. He sighed and got off his bike.

“I said it’s not a big deal. Why are you still crying?” he said, scratching the back of his head in genuine confusion. He had never really made someone cry outside of a volleyball game before.

In between sobs, Kaori explained that she had an early day off from gymnastics today and she had planned to find a spot that overlooked Sendai City to see the sunset. Her friend had suggested a spot and gave her directions, but she was lost for over an hour. With her curfew in mind, she started panicking while trying to make her way home finally coming out into a familiar street just about 10 minutes ago.

“This has been a terrible afternoon!” she hissed in frustration, “I even brought my analogue camera and everything. and now I feel like I’m about to get in trouble for coming home late.”

Tsukki resisted the urge not to laugh. Kaori was crying and fuming at the same time, it was like she couldn’t choose between which emotion to feel first.

“Where is this place?” he said, trying to sound serious. After picking up Kaori’s bike off the road, he walked beside his own bike. “Enough biking for today, let’s walk home.”

Kaori described a spot right off the main road. She said it was somewhere uphill near a small park of sorts where one could see the view of Sendai from a mildly sloping patch of grass. Tsukki kind of knew the general area that Kaori described but he hadn’t been there himself.

“Why don’t you just ask your friend to go with you?” he suggested.

“Well, Yuhana-chan lives in the opposite direction of that spot. It’s very far from her house, she will need her parents to drive her there if she really wants to go.” Kaori thought aloud.

Tsukki offered to draw a map that she could use to get to the said spot for tomorrow after gymnastics.

“Should I pack lunch and just eat there after gymnastics?” she pondered.

“The spot seems nearer from home than your gym. Besides it might be too hot there if you go during lunch. Might as well just go first before you head out in the afternoon.

Besides, there is no way that I’m doing that map tonight, so you’ll have to come back for it after lunch.” he said, raising his nose at her.

Kaori, who was absorbed in her own thoughts about the next day’s adventures, was unfazed by Tsukki’s expression. If the spot seemed warm, she definitely needed to pack snacks and something to drink.

“Sure, thanks Tsukki!” she said heading to her house while waving at him, “See you tomorrow.”

Tsukki rolled his eyes at her. She seemed to have forgotten her day’s ordeals already. Kaori rolled her bike into her house and Tsukki rolled his bike into the side of their house. While he took off his shoes, his brother peered out of the dining room to greet him.

“Okairi, Kei.” he smiled warmly. Unlike Kei, Akiteru was warm, friendly and cheerful. He was affectionate and supportive of his younger brother, conscious that his brother looked up to him. Like Kei, Akiteru was a volleyball player and an ace in Junior High. Tsukki idolized him both in and out of the court.

“Kei, you’re later than usual. Did practice run late to today?” asked Akiteru.

“Practice was alright. Miyahara-san got lost and panicked. She almost crashed into me on her way down the hill because she was rushing home. She was crying for a bit and I didn’t know what to do so I waited for her to stop crying.”

“Oh, is she ok?” Akiteru’s face was marked with concern. He hadn’t expected something so serious to have happened.

“Yeah, it’s like she forgot all about it when she saw her home.” he snorted.

The boys’ mother called them for dinner and the two quickly washed up before heading for the table. After dinner, Kei insisted that his brother helped him practice his passes and receives in their backyard. As Akiteru was tossing the ball and instructing him to bend his knees some more, he asked more about Kei’s day.

“Kao-chan is a free-spirited ne?” he said, passing him the ball through an underhand toss.

“She’s so dramatic. She cries over nothing.” Kei sniffed, receiving his brother’s toss with perfect timing.

“Hmmm…it wasn’t because you were being mean to her or anything right?” Akiteru raised his brow, looking at Tsukki straight in the eye. His younger brother could be cold to kids his age. He felt that Tsukki didn’t have many friends not because he wasn’t likable or inherently a bad person, it was because he didn’t try to be nicer.

Kei hesitated and looked to the side.

“No!…” he exclaimed.

Akiteru raised both of his brows at his little brother.

“…no? Maybe?” he muttered crossing his arms grumpily, “I told her to be more careful that’s all.”

Akiteru laughed and hit him on his side, “Kei, you are a terrible liar!”

Kei cursed quietly. His brother knew him too well.

After lunch the next day, Tsukki knocked at Kaori’s door with the map at hand. She answered the door and peered closely at his map.

“I won’t get lost if I follow exactly this map, right? This is not a prank.” she said, examining the roads he had labelled onto the paper.

“Why would I make a wrong map? That’s too much work.” he said, sounding exasperated that Kaori had doubted him. He was waiting for her to deem the map usable; they stood on her front porch.

“Are you super sure that this is right?” she said, rubbing her chin with her fingers while continuing to inspect the map then peered at him.

“I’ve never actually been there.” he confessed sheepishly.

“I’ll just go with you. I kind of know where it is but I don’t know where the exact place is.” he added, “When I get bored I’ll just bike back.” He was curious what this spot looked like. His brother was in practice anyways so he had nothing better to do.

“Sounds fair,” she said, accepting his offer with her hands on her hips.

Tsukki went back home to grab his book, his phone and his bike. The two met just outside their houses and biked off with Tsukki in the lead. The path to the spot was long winding and a little off the main road. It was overwhelmingly uphill that Tsukki for a while wondered if they should’ve just walked.

After a few wrong turns, they finally found the spot. Just as Kaori’s friend described, there was a patch of grass and a glorious view of the city from a vantage point with plenty of trees. The summer breeze blew by gently. The sight took their breath away.

“Wow….” said Kaori under her breath. She parked her bike on the ground and took her things from the basket. Kaori outstretched her arms and smiled. The wind tousled her hair and jacket.

Tsukki settled himself under a tree and put on his headphones. He opened  his book and folded his legs onto himself. He swiftly lost himself in his reading.

Kaori followed suit and sat near him. She pulled a bento box of sesame cookies and a thermos accompanied by two cups from her bag as well as her watercolor set, sketchpad and camera. Occasional gusts of wind would block her eyes with her hair, but she did not seem to mind. Kaori was busy being content.

When Kaori remembered the food she had set out, she tapped Tsukki on the shoulder and pointed towards the cookies. He took a cookie, thanked her and went back to the book. She poured herself some tea before standing up to take a photo of the view.

The two hardly talked while they immersed themselves in their separate worlds for the afternoon. Kaori sat painting away while Tsukki read with his headphones on. Kaori had packed her own music, but she decided that she liked the sounds of the wind rustling tree branches better.

As Kaori flipped through another page in her sketchpad, she looked up to see that Tsukki had fallen asleep with his hand on an opened book over his chest. She took another cookie and laid on her back. The light penetrating through the leaves of the trees filled her view. She held the cookie with her teeth and took a photo of the sky with her camera.

The click from her camera woke Tsukki from his light sleep. He blinked and turned towards her. Kaori took another photo of the sky for safe keeping - her film camera wasn’t always reliable.

“I like the light from here.” she sighed softly, “It’s like it’s leaking through the sky.”

“Isn’t there a word for that? Komorebi? The light that filters through the trees?” he yawned, picking up his book back up.

“Komorebi?” she whispered to herself. She liked it how it sounded and repeated it to herself a few more times. She stuck out her arms to see the shadows of the tree play on herself.

Tsukki went back to his book. She sat back up to continue to paint. They spent the afternoon on the grass, peaceful and unhurried.When the sunset became apparent, Tsukki began packing his things, preparing to leave.

“It’s time to go,” he said, “It’s getting late.”

Kaori had begun packing her things too. Her empty thermos was stowed beside the cups in her bag. She was carefully putting her brushes away then turned to him.

“Tsukki, but the sunset is just getting good. This is the best part! Can’t we stay a little longer?” she said, unable to look away from the magnificent gradients of the sky.

“I’m going to go ahead, you can stay.” he frowned, walking towards his bike.

“But I’m not sure I remember how to go home. Can’t we stay a little longer….please???” she pleaded, clasping her hands together.

“10 more minutes!” he sighed, sitting back down beside her.

Kaori brought out her camera and snapped a photo of the sunset oohing and ahhing its colors.

“Tsukki, you should have a photo with this view.” she insisted, shuffling him towards the front of the camera.

“Eh? No!” he said, standing his ground as she gently but firmly shoved him away from the tree.

“Come on, how else will you commemorate the discovery of this spot?” she said, poking his side, “Smile ok? Film is expensive. I can only take a few pictures, not like a digital camera.”

Tsukki begrudgingly humored her and smiled in front of the camera. Afterwards, Kaori asked him to take her photo too.

When the photos were taken and the camera was packed away, they headed back down the hill towards their homes. Kaori tried not to yell as her bike plunged down the steep hill. Tsukki biked behind her, afraid to bike in front her after yesterday’s mishap. He gritted his teeth and his bike accelerated into a speed that almost flattened his glasses against his face.

They biked quietly side by side after the hill. The ride was generally silent until Kaori spoke up.

“Thanks for today, Tsukki. That spot is the best place around here. You know I was starting to think this place was boring!” she beamed, “though I was thinking maybe next time we should just walk if it wasn’t so far…”

“We?! You’re planning to drag me here again?” he exclaimed, patting his hair back into place as he saw their street approaching. The sky was holding out its last light, turning into a light shade of purple.

“I mean you don’t have to come back, but I will keep going there and you can come if you like. It’s your spot now too!” she said, turning towards him.

Tsukki never had a spot to consider his before. He had his room, but that wasn’t really the same.

From then on, they knew that patch of grass as “The Spot”. Kaori would return to it. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Tsukki through the rest of her time in Miyagi. When she moved away, it was one of the places she missed the most.

“Kind of reminds me of The Spot…” he murmured, a little nervous as he spoke. Ever since he met Kaori in class, they haven’t really spoken about their past.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” she wondered.

“Yeah, it has been, for us both but more for you I guess.” he said, turning towards her.

“Did you still go there after I transferred out?” she asked, turning to face him. Her eyes were wide and curious. He looked away.

He nodded, “Once in a while. The piece reminds me of our first afternoon there. It was a little windy, we watched the view. You painted and I read.”  

Kaori looked the other way, “We’ve been there so many times, I don’t really remember the first time. It feels like all my memories there have blended together some days.” She sounded quiet and a little embarrassed that she couldn’t remember more.

“At the end of the afternoon, you took a photo. I took one of you too. We watched a bit of the sunset, but we had to go back and you had already asked for ten minutes.” he said, staring down pretending to look at the piece’s cover art.

Kaori kept silent, her hands on her lap. Leaving Miyagi was such a painful memory for her. She tried to leave her memories behind when she landed in Tokyo.

“Why choose to come back to Sendai? You seem suited towards Tokyo.” he asked, genuinely curious. He stared at her, puzzled that she willingly came back to a place that she admitted had brought her so much pain. Kaori was not one for rural and suburban living too. She was a city girl at heart. Tokyo sounded perfect.

“Two words. Scholarship offer. The university offered me a full-ride plus allowance. I didn’t have my National Team funding so it would be expensive to continue doing gymnastics on my own.” she admitted.

Kaori checked the time. They had a little more than an hour before the museum closed.

“Let’s breeze through the permanent collection,” she suggested, changing the topic.

——————————————————

Once Kaori’s feet hit the tatami of her apartment, she hurriedly went through her boxes of photos which she brought with her from her time in Miyagi prefecture and later Tokyo. She found a box labelled “Junior High”. After a few minutes of searching, she found a pile of photos labelled "Others" which she used to refer to any event that didn’t have to do with her family, school and gymnastics life.

Her fingers find two copies of the same photo of Tsukki with their first sunset at The Spot. One of the copies had writings on the back.

She had written “Thanks for bringing me here, Tsukki. We should go back!” in her script, signed with her name and the date. She must have meant to give this to him, but totally forgot.

The photo untangled their many memories in The Spot and brought back a rush of memories specific to their first afternoon: the light from the trees, the cookies and Tsukki falling asleep beside her with his book. It had been almost six years and Tsukki still remembered it all as clear as day.

Kaori picked up her phone to text him. “You were right, I did take a photo. I found it. Will bring it to you when we see each other at uni. Find me in the library tomorrow?”

In the next hour, Kaori sat on her floor and flipped through her photos from that spring. She played “Sudden Rush of Memories” by The Shanghai Restoration Project as she carefully inspected each photo to see if she remembered when they were taken and with whom. At each syncopation and rest in the music, she felt her heart stop as she reminisced on her past that she had buried when she moved to Tokyo. The nostalgia of her time in junior High mixed with memory of her injuries and her parents’ separation brought a wave of inexplicable emotions.

The next day Kaori was in the library trying to cram some study time between her last class and her training when Tsukki pulled out a chair across her and brought out his books.

“How did you find me?” she jolted up, visibly surprised.

“You sat at this spot the last time I was in the library, thought I’d find you here again.” he said in hushed tones, “and didn’t you tell me to find you in the library before your training?”

Kaori ignored his question and slipped the photo to him. Tsukki’s expression asked whether she was lending or giving it to him. She flipped the photo over to show him the writing.

“I had two copies made because I wanted to make sure you got your own. It’s yours now.” she explained quietly.

Tsukki carefully slipped the photo into one of his books and began studying. He had some time before his training began. They sat absorbed in their separate worlds, catching up with their school work and passing the hours of their afternoon allowed by their schedules with their books.

When Tsukki got home after his training, his brother had already laid out dinner on the table. He had made cabbage salad, and pork cutlet curry bowls on top of the usual miso soup and rice. Akiteru greeted him brightly and shuffled dinner from the kitchen counter to their dining table.

“Let’s eat!” he said, gesturing for his younger brother to come sit. Tsukki put away his things and brought out one of his books from his bag.

Tsukki nods. He quickly puts his sweaty clothes away. His usual bag was getting smelly, he aired out his books while on his desk. He brought out one book to read during dinner.

Akiteru noticed the photo slipped into the book. He pulled it out to look at it. He flipped it around surprised to see the handwritten note at the back.

‘Who took this photo?” he casually flips the photo surprised to find the writing at the back. He smiles a bit.

“I didn’t know you kept this after all these years.”

“I didn’t. I met Kaori the other day. She gave me this.”  

Akiteru raised his brows, eyes widening as he inspected the photo.  He hadn’t heard about her since she left. When she moved, he assumed it was permanent. What brought her back?

“She’s in Miyagi again?” he commented with a neutral tone.

“Sports scholarship offer from the university,” said Tsukki.

“We were in the same class last semester and I ran into her the other day. That’s all.” explained Tsukki, sipping through his miso soup. His tone indicated that was the end of the topic.

Akiteru nodded and backed away from the topic. His younger brother was not ready to talk about it. He put the photo down and began digging through his rice.

Kaori’s relationship with Kei was unique in many aspects. For one, he calls her by her first name despite his persistent habit of addressing his few close friends strictly by their last names. Kei had always been private about the time he spent with Kaori. Even when the two were close, Kei kept his stories and comments about Kaori to a minimum.

After chores and homework were said and done, Tsukki laid down on his bed. He took the photo back out and played “Sudden Rush of Memories” with his headphones on. The piece took him back to many an afternoon, lying flat on his back as the spring breeze gently blew by. He could hear Kaori’s camera clicking beside him. Closing his eyes as if he was back on “The Spot” for the first time, he placed his hand on his chest and dozed off into the night.

----------------------------------------------------

Read the rest of the chapters:

|| Chap. 2 (AO3) || Chap. 3

[danganronpa-21]

Happy birthday to Makoto and koichi!!!

Happy Birthday to the boys!! Sorry that this is so darn late, Wednesdays are my long days at school. Plus, one of my poor pups had ear surgery today! He’s doing okay, but he’s very drugged up and sleepy. Therefore, he needs a lot of attention. Got the cone of shame and everything.

But yeah, BIRTHDAY! Seiko made them t-shirts and everything. Let’s do some birthday headcanons, shall we?

Makoto’s Birthday — 2020:

February 5th, 2020 brings a seemingly typical day for Makoto at first. As it’s a Wednesday, he’s still expected to drag his butt into work. He doesn’t even get to sleep in! Kyoko claims that they can pretend to be late because of “morning sickness”, but he doesn’t think anyone will believe it. She’s in her seventh month of pregnancy with their first, and fully intends to go to work with him. She’s much too stubborn to take maternity leave until she has to. At the very least she talks him into skipping a breakfast at home, as he’d have to be the one to cook it anyway. He later discovers that by the time he gets there, Aoi’s already baked some muffins for him and dropped off a cup of coffee — just the way he likes it! If that weren’t enough, some of his students left him gifts. One of his favourites is a small succulent in a hand-painted pot, which he cheerfully places by his window.

He assumes that maybe this is going to be the extent of his special day, but he’s wrong. When he goes to do his paperwork, he discovers that almost all of it has been done already. His meetings have been cut in half, and all because his friends took over some of his work! He’s overwhelmed with love, and makes sure to shoot them some thank you messages. He then does the rest of the work that’s left over, which holds him for just enough until Kyoko comes bursting into his office. She’s planned a picnic for his lunch. They eat together in the school’s gardens, chatting and cuddling. Kyoko can’t help but tell her husband how grateful she is for him, and how excited she is to be carrying his child. Makoto can’t help but laugh and tell her how lucky he feels to be the subject of her love.

The rest of his school day is spent in meetings and popping in and out of classrooms to chat with the students. When work ends, his friends drag him out for dinner, and then to the karaoke bar. They spend the night drinking, singing, and laughing until the late hours of the morning. Makoto, Yasuhiro, and Byakuya are mid-way through a trio song of “Hakujitsu” when they realize they should probably head out... as Kyoko and Toko had started to nap in the corner. To settle things down a bit, they pop into Aoi’s café — where they have a sweet birthday cake waiting for Makoto. He gets a cheerful singing of happy birthday, and all kinds of love and hugs from the people around him. They even prepared in advance and brought their gifts for him to the café!

Byakuya just straight up gifts him cash. He insists that he doesn’t know what to buy someone so painfully average, but everyone knows it’s because Makoto nearly had a heart attack at last year’s birthday gift. He really wasn’t expecting to get a car for his twenty-fifth, so for his twenty-sixth... Byakuya plays it safe. Toko and Komaru choose to collaborate on an adventure manga for him, in which he is depicted as a valiant hero saving people from despair (and inevitably winning the heart of his pretty detective boss in the process). Aoi puts together a collection of CDs for him, with every song he’s ever sung along to on it. It’s really hard not to cry when they put it on and hear Sayaka’s voice playing through the speakers. Yasuhiro opts to gift him a couple of free fortune tellings, before also passing along a brand new hoodie. Hiro says that he figures if he knew one thing, it was that Makoto loves comfortable clothing. So he thought it would be fun to pass along something he knew Makoto would use. As for Kyoko, well, she goes super romantic on her gift. It’s a huge notebook, filled to the brim with photographs and journal entries of all of the adventures they ever had together. She’s even notably added passages from her personal journals, in which she first begins to cite her feelings for him. At the end of the book, he finds the words “... and I can’t wait to have even more adventures with you”. 

Below this, is the ultrasound photo of their daughter.

Koichi’s Birthday - 2037:

Koichi has never really been someone who likes too much birthday attention. Most of the time he’s content to spend it with his family. Growing up, he’d usually take the day off school. Kyoko would take the day off work, and they’d go around doing whatever he wanted to do until the rest of the family got back from work and school. 

This year, he chooses to go to school. Not because he really wants to, but because he has friends who are desperate to see him for his birthday! So his dad wakes up that morning for school as always, with the two of them wishing each other a mutual happy birthday. He gets to eat a happy breakfast with his family, who is sure to shower him with love and affection. It seems like none of them can stop talking about how old he’s getting! Even Seiko’s going on about it, as if she’s not getting older herself. 

When Koichi comes to school, his friends are sure to greet him with as much as they can manage. Tamiko, Natsumi, and Phoenix have decked out his desk in balloons and confetti. They’ve each placed a little wrapped gift for him on his desk, and Tamiko even went ahead and made him a birthday cupcake. The three of them (embarrassingly) sing a rendition of happy birthday in front of everyone, and the whole time, Phoenix is happily snapping pictures. 

Unfortunately, he does have to spend much of his day in class because it’s still a school day, but at least his friends make it fun. For lunch, they decide to sneak out and go to a local restaurant. Being a technical yakuza heiress, Natsumi covers all of lunch and tells everyone to order whatever they want. Naturally, the group stuffs themselves full of tasty food before returning back to school. They slip back in mostly undetected... well, if being noticed by Aoi but not chided is considered “mostly undetected”. 

After school ends, Koichi goes to meet his parents as always. He’s surprised to discover that his father has gone out to pick up their birthday cakes, and that he intends to meet them at a surprise location... Which his mother is taking them to. After picking up Seiko from school, Kyoko takes all of her kids to the local arcade. They’re told that they can play as many games as they want for [retty much as long as they want. The kids all decide to team up in an attempt to win a huge purple teddy bear, just for the fun of it. Seiko kicks everyone’s butts at whack-a-mole (including Makoto’s, when he shows up), Hope absolutely destroys at Dance Dance Revolution, Kyoko shoots a decent amount of hoops, Makoto is able to stop on just the right spot at the prize wheel multiple times, and Koichi has nothing but victory at the ski ball machine. They manage more tickets than they ever thought possible, and of course managed to nab the teddy bear. They decide it should be kept in Seiko’s room, given that she’s the kind of person who could probably find space for something like that.

When they return home, Hope and Seiko challenge their brother to play a quick game of basketball outside while Makoto prepares dinner. Being the most athletic of the three, naturally, Koichi beats his sisters into the ground. But they get a lot of good laughs out of it, and they end off the match with Hope having slung Koichi over her shoulder and walking him back into the house for dinner. Dinner is Oyakodon, paired alongside some homemade gyoza. Despite having had a big lunch, Koichi eats something like three helpings, which his family teases him about. “The older he gets, the more he eats! He’s gearing up for that big growth spurt!”

For dessert, they of course, have two birthday cakes. One of them is Makoto’s, and the other Koichi’s, and each of the boys gets their own rendition of happy birthday. Makoto’s birthday cake is a vanilla-flavoured cake, whereas Koichi’s is a strawberry ice cream cake. They take turns pretending to blow at each other’s candles, just to mess around. It makes for some great pictures. Everyone tries to have small slices of each cake, so they can enjoy it. The only people who get big pieces are of course, the birthday boys. And when cake is done, they follow it with presents. Being the younger one of the two, Koichi gets to go first.

From his parents, he gets a new video game. One that he’d been saving his allowance for for a long time, I might add. He’s ecstatic! He’s sure to thank his parents several times, especially considering that they’d complained about how pricey it was. Seiko’s birthday gift to him comes with a card she made herself, decorated with as many happy penguins as she could fit onto the page. They’re his absolute favourite animal, after all! The gift she ends up giving him is a set of different tea flavours for him to try -- most of them being far off from the kinds you can find in stores. She also throws in a little plushie penguin that Kyoko and Hope helped her sew. Truthfully, it’s not really pretty, but Koichi loves it. He promises to treasure it, before tearing into Hope’s gift. She’s managed to get him a brand new stack of novels, ones from authors she knows he admires. She confesses that she sort of raided his room to figure out which authors were his favourite. 

They watch Makoto open his gifts next. He receives about what you’d expect for a man his age. Hope gifts him a whole bunch of new yarn to knit with, as well as some of his favourite candy. Seiko gives him a clay sunflower she made at school in her art class, as sunflowers are his favourite flower. Koichi gifts him a set of headphones that have become popular in the past year or so, figuring he will make use of them while he’s working or trying to sleep. Kyoko gives her husband her gift in the form of kisses... as well as multiple picture frames that contain photos of their family. Notably, even the older pictures of his parents that she found are added. 

All in all, the boys have a great day.

[thatfairyfangirl]

True Colors Chapter 23

“Mr Stark, pleasure to meet you.” Piotr greeted politely as he stood, towering over the Ironman as he held out a hand.

“Hmm, muscular, Russian, and metal. My god woman! If you don’t have a type!” Tony joked as he shook the behemoth’s hand before sitting down at the diner, signalling to the waitress he would need a coffee. “So is Iron Giant here the reason you ran up state?” He added with a smirk, winking to the waitress as she delivered him a mug of crappy at best coffee.

“No...And he’s not…” You didn’t even know where to start with all of this.

“I have very lovely girlfriend at X-mansion. She is fan, Spektr needed help so here I am.” Colossus interjected as you rubbed at the sides of your head. Colossus didn’t know it but after the run in with Bucky you had to drink yourself stupid to get to sleep. Now you were reaping the benefits of that. “Besides, she still loves the soldier.”

“I’m sorry what?” Tony blinked, utterly shocked by pretty much everything the big guy just said. “Since when does an Avenger need protecting?”

“Since my powers stopped working and a bunch of guys jumped me on the way home from rehearsals.” You muttered your answer hating that light had to be a thing right now. “I only just barely got away with the hand to hand stuff you guys have been teaching me.”

“Then you come to us for help! Or at least tell us where in the goddamnhell you are running off to.” He scolded. “Just because you and Bucky Bear have a fight doesn’t mean we’re -”

“Tony,” You looked up to him with baggy eyes, your hair a deep midnight blue as your mind replayed for you the images of Bucky turning his back on you. “I want to swim in this bottle of syrup...don’t yell at me” you wined. He knew what you were going through, knew the look all too well. He could see the hangover pounding in your skull.

“So is this why Manchurian Candidate was extra pissy when he came home yesterday?” He asked pointing between the two of you “My god you two need to learn to communicate!”

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Piotr agreed. “Just text him give him a call! Then you can be safe with soldier and I can go home to Kitty. Preferably with tickets to opening night.”

“You volunteered for this tinman.” You muttered, realizing that maybe life wasn’t so great back in the city afterall...you still had to choke down some breakfast and get to the theater...show day was fast approaching. “And if they want to be there then I’ll get them tickets….hell I’ll give them a signed...fuckin’ I don’t know whatever they want.” Tony just held his hand to his mouth as he watched the giant scold you for your language, he could practically feel the hangover getting worse on you as you remembered why you and Piotr didn’t make efforts to hang out despite having been through training together.

“I am so telling on you.” He announced as he poured far too much sugar into your coffee cup, knowing it would help. “He listens to that damn CD every night you know…”

“Then why didn't he say something at the coffee shop?” You demanded.

“Because he saw you with big and shiny!” You never thought you'd see the day Tony would be defending Bucky, but yet here you were, wondering which part of hell was freezing over. “Come on (y/n) you're smarter than that. If he went awol for a week and then suddenly showed up with some girl what would you think?” Ok he had a point. “And fact of the matter is I don't want to loose my best friend,” he gestured to you, “or someone who as much as I'd hate to admit it is  Goddamn good at kicking bad guys asses.” He heaved out a long sigh as he pulled a familiar notebook out of you had no idea where. “I swiped this from his...your room. You should read it.” You recognized it in an instant, remembering all the times Bucky had scribbled his life in that book until the pages couldn’t fit another word. You thought about refusing, telling him to put it back and leave this alone...but you missed him just enough to reach out and grab it.

~~~~

The night pressed onward, a giant metal man sleeping on your couch as you sat on your bed. In front of you was the book left open at the page you stopped reading the amazing things he said about you to himself. One hand cradled your forehead, dark colored tendrils spilling over into your eyes tangling around the chain of your necklace as the other held onto your phone. Silent tears hung in your eyes as you stared at the screen.

You: What you saw last night isn't what you think.

You: Can we talk?

You: Please?

You: I'm sorry.

You: The show opens next week. It would mean the world to me if you were there. You will have a ticket waiting for you at the box office.

They were all sent hours ago, no reply. At first you convinced yourself that he was training, then maybe he let his phone die again, or sleeping. But the longer you looked at the screen the harder it was to convince yourself that there would ever be a response.

~~~~

A few hours ago at the tower

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, you boys are going to want to take a look at this.” FRIDAY informed them before generating a hologram of a photograph that sent chills down both their spines. It didn't look like much...just a research base somewhere in an arctic wasteland. But if you knew what you were looking for...which they did…A familiar symbol could be made out...a skull with 6 tentacles.

“Where was this image taken?” Steve demanded as he stood from his seat.

“A small research facility in Antarctica. But current data shows that recently it seems to have grown a military presence.” The computer answered. “There's one more thing though.” It added before shifting the hologram to another of a red haired woman clad in red and black leather, proudly displaying the hydra logo across the front standing next to an all too familiar man...The Red Skull himself.

“Call everyone in. All hands on deck.” Steve ordered, not willing to let this one wait until it became a threat...it's very existence was threat enough.

“Not everyone.” Bucky interjected.

Steve looked at him as if his friend had finally home mad. “We need you for this one Buck.”

“Not me. Spectrum.” Tony had kept his word, he told Bucky about how you were nearly kidnapped a week ago. Now it made sense as to why.

“Pal, I know you two are in the outs...but we could really use some-”

Bucky shook his head. “Not that. They already tried to nab her once. They want her for a reason and I'm willing to bet it's to gain control over the Winter Soldier. They've probably been keeping tabs on me this whole time. They know I'd do anything to keep her safe.”

“So she'd be a liability.” Steve nodded as he realized where he was going with this. “Alright. We'll leave her out of this one. Lets go suit up.”

~~~~

You weren't sure when you actually fell asleep but the sound of your alarm clock was enough to make you wish you hadn't. You stirred grogily in your bed, rolling over to check your phone...still no answer.

[darsacarrington]

Man Seeking Woman

I don’t do stuff like this often. Sending out adverts to the newspaper and hoping i can get a lead on something. If I want people to find me I go through my underworld contacts. But I don’t think Valentine will be looking for that. All she should know right now is the guy she had a crush on is somewhere, waiting. She doesn’t know I ended Colton and Crawford’s lives. She doesn’t know I made sure their souls won’t find peace. Poor woman, she knows nothing and I caused a lot of her pain.

I’m sitting at a corner table and I’ve been sitting here for most of the day. Looking down at my notebook I flip back to where I made the first draft of the advert. Looking over it read:

Man Seeking Woman:

Woman must be 5′0, love hunting, be horrible at making cupcakes. Missing a brother, and love sad songs. The man seeking the woman is 6′4, is hard to read, good with chemicals, and is worried about her.

If she is interested she should come to The Pig and Whistle on August 23rd and expect him to make good on his promise to her. In return she may teach the man how to dance. The man will be at The Pig and Whistle all day and will have a glass of wine poured for her.

Personal note: Please come. You’ve been missing for longer than you said. I hope you’re alive and well.

I mean, if no one knew Valentine it would be a bunch of weird ass requirements. This was a play I’m needing, Val has empathy, I’ve seen it in our talks. Her mind has been bent by Colton and it needs to be saved, or at least be given a chance to be saved. I took her brothers life too soon. His brainwashing by Crawford was pretty solid, but with time, effort we could have saved him. I owe it to her to not treat her the same way.

Part of me feels like I failed in trying to be a better noble than the pricks in the south. I live as humble of a life as I can. I don’t use my money for anything but what will bring joy to the people I’ve collected. There’s no reason for me to politically scheme with other houses when I just need to worry about me and mine. I should think of myself as a good man, a good noble. There aren’t that many who actually care about their people. They’re happy to make kissy faces across war tables instead of get the right things done.

Valentine is my ticket to salvation. If I can be kind to her plight. If I can do everything I can to save her, then if I fail I’ll still feel like I did more than all of Stormwind. She’s been used by nobles, hurt by them. She was left by her lord and lady outside the Gilnean wall. It pissed me off when she said it, and now I know she was using all her hate she had for them against the noble who was fighting her gang.

“You look like you’re better off.” Reese said wandering up and cleaning his glass. “Not drinking anymore?”

Lifting up my glass of milk I nodded. “Mal would tan my hide... The wine is for a friend.” I said nodding to the delicate glass of wine i had ordered.

“When’s that friend coming. You’ve been here for four hours.” The barkeep said looking around the room at the normal suspects of this seedy bar. I used to fit in here like just one of the other criminals. I still do on good days like this. 

Picking up my mug I shrug. “I’m taking a risk to see if she’ll come see me.”

“She?” Reese leaned on the counter looking curious. “Girlfriend.”

“Hardly.” I muttered after taking a drink. “She think’s I’m someone else and I want to put her down.... easily, ya know? Be the one to tell her I wasn’t who I said I was.”

It’s a shit show, I know it. But i don’t have any other options right now. Val had to go stop Colton from being an idiot, and she was no where to be seen at the caves the Brother’s had used. This is my first option to try to reach out to her. I don’t plan on it being the only time either...

See, Teren reminded me that our enemies, they forget about the faces in the crowd. They forget about us. It’s when they forget that I strike and take them out. If Val is waiting to take revenge on me, I want her to do so knowing who I am, knowing why I did this. If she just ran from Colton then that will be the easiest to fix. She could have a place in Deephaven if she wants. But she has to get over her obsession with Colton, and her obsession with me.

“So... you lied to a girl and you’re trying to come clean?” Reese shook his head and nodded to my milk. “You sure you didn’t sneak some alcohol in there?”

“No alcohol, I wish, but none.” Looking up I felt like I had to defend myself. “I was stopping some bad folks mate. She’s mostly innocent and I want to make amends.”

The faithful barkeep shook his head at me. “Is she cute?”

“I’m not interested in her mate... Please stop.” I muttered picking up my mug again. My heart is still a wreck and it’s trying to understand what I’ve been feeling. I know I’ve gone and let my emotions get the best of me a few times this last month, but that needs to calm down. All the dreams I had were gone and I need to make my new dreams for me first.

Reese is good at taking a hint. With only a shrug he moved away and let me get back to my thoughts. No, there is no emotions I feel for Valentine accept for regret that I killed her brother. I’m going to make this right, and the best way to do that is to get to her soon...

I’m nearly ten hours in my wait. Beside me and the little glass of wine is a large mug of coffee. But even drinking two cups of the stuff I find myself getting close to passing out. I don’t want to fall asleep here. Val could show up any minute and I’d be snuck up upon. My body reminds me I’ve been pouring over building plans, notes about food, information about the construction of Deephaven. I am tired.

My eyes fall to the glass of wine. She’s not a bad person, just one who needs a second chance. Maybe she’s strange for having such a crush on me, but once she sees me, and knows who I am, I bet it’ll be long over. After all I’m one of those nobles, but I need to show her I’m not exactly like them.

Rubbing my face I groaned and leaned down on my arms. If she comes, I could see her not being offended I passed out. Normally I’m a light sleeper though, so if she comes here she’ll have to be a shadow to not wake me up... I’ve been up for a long time, and I’ve been busy with my plans for Deephaven. A ten minute nap isn’t going to hurt.

At least, that’s the last thought I had before I closed my eyes and passed out.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 6 paragraph xviii

Xandra was out cold by the time they all left—asleep so deeply that Boris got a pocket mirror from her purse (which we had rifled, for pills and cash) and held it under her nose to see if she was breathing. There was two hundred and twenty-nine dollars in her wallet, which I didn’t feel all that bad about taking since she still had her credit cards and an uncashed check for two thousand and twenty-five. “I knew Xandra wasn’t her real name,” I said, tossing him her driver’s license: orange-tinged face, different fluffed-up hair, name Sandra Jaye Terrell, no restrictions. “Wonder what these keys go to?” Boris—like an old-fashioned movie doctor, fingers on her pulse, sitting by her on the side of the bed—held the mirror up to the light. “Da, da,” he muttered, then something else I didn’t understand. “Eh?” “She’s out.” With one finger, he prodded her shoulder, and then leaned over and peered into the nightstand drawer where I was rapidly sorting through a bewilderment of junk: change, chips, lip gloss, coasters, false eyelashes, nail polish remover, tattered paperbacks (Your Erroneous Zones), perfume samples, old cassette tapes, ten years’ expired insurance cards, and a bunch of giveaway matchbooks from a Reno legal office that said REPRESENTING DWI AND ALL DRUG OFFENSES. “Hey, let me have those,” said Boris, reaching over and pocketing a strip of condoms. “What’s this?” He picked up something that at first glance looked like a Coke can—but, when he shook it, it rattled. He put his ear to it. “Ha!” he said, tossing it to me. “Good job.” I screwed off the top—it was obviously fake—and dumped the contents out on the top of the nightstand. “Wow,” I said, after a few moments. Clearly this was where Xandra kept her tip money—partly cash, partly chips. There was a lot of other stuff, too— so much I had a hard time taking it all in—but my eyes had gone straight to the diamond-and-emerald earrings that my mother had found missing, right before my father took off. “Wow,” I said again, picking one of them up between thumb and forefinger. My mother had worn these earrings for almost every cocktail party or dress-up occasion—the blue-green transparency of the stones, their wicked three a.m. gleam, were as much a part of her as the color of her eyes or the spicy dark smell of her hair. Boris was cackling. Amidst the cash he’d immediately spotted, and snatched up, a film canister, which he opened with trembling hands. He dipped the end of his little finger in, tasted it. “Bingo,” he said, running the finger along his gums. “Kotku’s going to be pissed she didn’t come over now.” I held out the earrings to him on my open hands. “Yah, nice,” he said, hardly looking at them. He was tapping out a pile of powder on the nightstand. “You’ll get a couple of thousand dollars for those.” “These were my mother’s.” My dad had sold most of her jewelry back in New York, including her wedding ring. But now—I saw—Xandra had skimmed some of it for herself, and it made me weirdly sad to see what she’d chosen—not the pearls or the ruby brooch, but inexpensive things from my mother’s teenage days, including her junior-high charm bracelet, ajingle with horseshoes and ballet slippers and four leaf clovers.

Boris straightened up, pinched his nostrils, handed me the rolled-up bill. “You want some?” “No.” “Come on. It’ll make you feel better.” “No, thanks.” “There must be four or five eight balls here. Maybe more! We can keep one and sell the others.” “You did that stuff before?” I said doubtfully, eyeing Xandra’s prone body. Even though she was clearly down for the count, I didn’t like having these conversations over her back. “Yah. Kotku likes it. Expensive, though.” He seemed to blank out for a minute, then blinked his eyes rapidly. “Wow. Come on,” he said, laughing. “Here. Don’t know what you’re missing.” “I’m too fucked-up as it is,” I said, shuffling through the money. “Yah, but this will sober you up.” “Boris, I can’t goof around,” I said, pocketing the earrings and the charm bracelet. “If we’re going, we need to leave now. Before people start showing up.” “What people?” said Boris skeptically, running his finger back and forth under his nose. “Believe me, it happens fast. Child services coming in, and like that.” I’d counted the cash—thirteen hundred and twenty-one dollars, plus change; there was much more in chips, close to five thousand dollars’ worth, but might as well leave her those. “Half for you and half for me,” I said, as I began to count the cash into two even piles. “There’s enough here for two tickets. Probably we’re too late to catch the last flight but we should go ahead and take a car to the airport.” “Now? Tonight?” I stopped counting and looked at him. “I don’t have anyone out here. Nobody. Nada. They’ll stick me in a home so fast I won’t know what hit me.” Boris nodded at Xandra’s body—which was very unnerving, as in her face-down mattress splay she looked way too much like a dead person. “What about her?” “What the fuck?” I said after a brief pause. “What should we do? Wait around until she wakes up and finds out we ripped her off?” “Dunno,” said Boris, eyeing her doubtfully. “I just feel bad for her.” “Well, don’t. She doesn’t want me. She’ll call them herself as soon as she realizes she’s stuck with me.” “Them? I don’t understand who is this them.” “Boris, I’m a minor.” I could feel my panic rising in an all-too-familiar way—maybe the situation wasn’t literally life or death but it sure felt like it, house filling with smoke, exits closing off. “I don’t know how it works in your country but I don’t have any family, no friends out here—” “Me! You have me!” “What are you going to do? Adopt me?” I stood up. “Look, if you’re coming, we need to hurry. Do you have your passport? You’ll need it for the plane.” Boris put his hands up in his Russianate enough already gesture. “Wait! This is happening way too fast.” I stopped, halfway out the door. “What the fuck is your problem, Boris?” “My problem?” “You wanted to run away! It was you who asked me to go with you! Last night.” “Where are you going? New York?” “Where else?” “I want to go someplace warm,” he said instantly. “California.” “That’s crazy. Who do we know—” “California!” he crowed. “Well—” Though I knew almost nothing about California, it was safe to assume that (apart from the bar of “California Über Alles” he was humming) Boris knew even less. “Where in California? What town?” “Who cares?” “It’s a big state.” “Fantastic! It’ll be fun. We’ll stay high all the time—read books—build camp fires. Sleep on the beach.” I looked at him for a long unbearable moment. His face was on fire and his mouth was stained blackish from the red wine. “All right,” I said—knowing full well I was stepping off the edge and into the major mistake of my life, petty theft, the change cup, sidewalk nods and homelessness, the fuck-up from which I would never recover. He was gleeful. “The beach, then? Yes?”

This was how you went wrong: this fast. “Wherever you want,” I said, pushing the hair out of my eyes. I was dead exhausted. “But we need to go now. Please.” “What, this minute?” “Yes. Do you need to go home and get anything?” “Tonight?” “I’m not kidding, Boris.” Arguing with him was making the panic rise again. “I can’t just sit around and wait—” The painting was a problem, I wasn’t sure how that was going to work, but once I got Boris out of the house I could figure something out. “Please, come on.” “Is State Care that bad in America?” said Boris doubtfully. “You make it seem like the cops.” “Are you coming with me? Yes or no?” “I need some time. I mean,” he said, following after me, “we can’t leave now! Really—I swear. Wait a little while. Give me a day! One day!” “Why?” He seemed nonplussed. “Well, I mean, because—” “Because—?” “Because—because I have to see Kotku! And—all kinds of things! Honest, you can’t leave tonight,” he repeated, when I said nothing. “Trust me. You’ll be sorry, I mean it. Come to my house! Wait till the morning to go!” “I can’t wait,” I said curtly, taking my half of the cash and heading back to my room. “Potter—” he followed after me. “Yes?” “There is something important I have to tell you.” “Boris,” I said, turning, “what the mother fuck. What is it?” I said, as we stood and stared at each other. “If you have something to say, go on and say it.” “Am afraid it will make you mad.” “What is it? What have you done?” Boris was silent, gnawing the side of his thumb. “Well, what?” He looked away. “You need to stay,” he said vaguely. “You’re making a mistake.” “Forget it,” I snapped, turning away again. “If you don’t want to come with me, don’t come, okay? But I can’t stand around here all night.” Boris—I thought—might ask what was in the pillowcase, particularly since it was so fat and weirdly shaped after my over-enthusiastic wrapping job. But when I un-taped it from the back of the headboard and put it in my overnight bag (along with my iPod, notebook, charger, Wind, Sand and Stars, some pictures of my mom, my toothbrush, and a change of clothes) he only scowled and said nothing. When I retrieved, from the back of my closet, my school blazer (too small for me, though it had been too big when my mother bought it) he nodded and said: “Good idea, that.” “What?” “Makes you look less homeless.” “It’s November,” I said. I’d only brought one warm sweater from New York; I put it in the bag and zipped it up. “It’s going to be cold.”

Boris leaned insolently against the wall. “What will you do, then? Live on the street, railway station, where?” “I’ll call my friend I stayed with before.” “If they wanted you, those people, they’d have adopted you already.” “They couldn’t! How could they?” Boris folded his arms. “They didn’t want you, that family. You told me so yourself—lots of times. Also, you never hear from them.” “That’s not true,” I said, after a brief, confused pause. Only a few months before, Andy had sent me a long-ish (for him) email telling me about some stuff going on at school, a scandal with the tennis coach feeling up girls in our class, though that life was so far away that it was like reading about people I didn’t know “Too many children?” said Boris, a bit smugly as it seemed. “Not enough room? Remember that bit? You said the mother and father were glad to see you go.” “Fuck off.” I was already getting a huge headache. What would I do if Social Services showed up and put me in the back of a car? Who—in Nevada —could I call? Mrs. Spear? The Playa? The fat model-store clerk who sold us model glue without the models? Boris followed me downstairs, where we were stopped in the middle of the living room by a tortured-looking Popper—who ran directly into our path, then sat and stared at us like he knew exactly what was going on. “Oh, fuck,” I said, putting down my bag. There was a silence. “Boris,” I said, “can’t you—” “No.” “Can’t Kotku—” “No.” “Well, fuck it,” I said, picking him up and tucking him under my arm. “I’m not leaving him here for her to lock up and starve.” “And where are you going?” said Boris, as I started for the front door. “Eh?” “Walking? To the airport?” “Wait,” I said, putting Popchik down. All at once I felt sick and like I might vomit red wine all over the carpet. “Will they take a dog on the plane?” “No,” said Boris ruthlessly, spitting out a chewed thumbnail. He was being an asshole; I wanted to punch him. “Okay then,” I said. “Maybe somebody at the airport will want him. Or, fuck it, I’ll take the train.” He was about to say something sarcastic, lips pursed in a way I knew well, but then—quite suddenly—his expression faltered; and I turned to see Xandra, wild-eyed, mascara-smeared, swaying on the landing at the top of the stairs.

We looked at her, frozen. After what seemed like a centuries-long pause, she opened her mouth, closed it again, caught the railing to balance herself, and then said, in a rusty voice: “Did Larry leave his keys in the bank vault?” We gazed horrified for several more moments before we realized she was waiting for a reply. Her hair was like a haystack; she appeared completely disoriented and so unsteady it seemed she might topple down the steps. “Er, yes,” said Boris loudly. “I mean no.” And then, when she still stood there: “It’s all right. Go back to bed.” She mumbled something and—uncertain on her feet—staggered off. The two of us stood motionless for some moments. Then—quietly, the back of my neck prickling—I got my bag and slipped out the front door (my last sight of that house, and her, though I didn’t even take a last look round) and Boris and Popchik came out after me. Together, all three of us walked rapidly away from the house and down to the end of the street, Popchik’s toenails clicking on the pavement. “All right,” said Boris, in the humorous undertone he used when we had a close call at the supermarket. “Okay. Maybe not quite so much out-cold as I thought.” I was in a cold sweat, and the night air—though chilly—felt good. Off in the west, silent Frankenstein flashes of lightning twisted in the darkness. “Well, at least she’s not dead, eh?” He chuckled. “I was worried about her. Christ.” “Let me use your phone,” I said, elbowing on my jacket. “I need to call a car.” He fished in his pocket, and handed it to me. It was a disposable phone, the one he’d bought to keep tabs on Kotku. “No, keep it,” he said, holding his hands up when I tried to give it back to him after I’d made my call: Lucky Cab, 777-7777, the number plastered on every shifty-looking bus-stop bench in Vegas. Then he dug out the wad of money—his half of the take from Xandra—and tried to press it on me. “Forget it,” I said, glancing back anxiously at the house. I was afraid she might wake up again and come out in the street looking for us. “It’s yours.” “No! You might need it!” “I don’t want it,” I said, sticking my hands in my pockets to keep him from foisting it on me. “Anyway, you might need it yourself.” “Come on, Potter! I wish you wouldn’t go this moment.” He gestured down the street, at the rows of empty houses. “If you won’t come to my house —kip over there for a day or two! That brick house has furniture in it, even. I’ll bring you food if you want.” “Or, hey, I can call Domino’s,” I said, sticking the phone in my jacket pocket. “Since they deliver out here now and everything.” He winced. “Don’t be angry.” “I’m not.” And, in truth, I wasn’t—only so disoriented I felt I might wake up and find I’d been sleeping with a book over my face. Boris, I realized, was looking up at the sky and humming to himself, a line from one of my mother’s Velvet Underground songs: But if you close the door… the night could last forever… “What about you?” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Eh?” he said, looking at me with a smile. “What’s up? Will I see you again?” “Maybe,” he said, in the same cheerful tone I imagined him using with Bami and Judy the barkeep’s wife in Karmeywallag and everyone else in his life he’d ever said goodbye to. “Who knows?” “Will you meet me in a day or two?” “Well—” “Join me later. Take a plane—you have the money. I’ll call you and tell you where I am. Don’t say no.” “Okay then,” said Boris, in the same cheerful voice. “I won’t say no.” But clearly, from his tone, he was saying no. I closed my eyes. “Oh God.” I was so tired I was reeling; I had to fight the urge to lie down on the ground, a physical undertow pulling me to the curb. When I opened my eyes, I saw Boris looking at me with concern. “Look at you,” he said. “Falling over, almost.” He reached in his pocket. “No, no, no,” I said, stepping back, when I saw what he had in his hand. “No way. Forget it.” “It’ll make you feel better!” “That’s what you said about the other stuff.” I wasn’t up for any more seaweed or singing stars. “Really, I don’t want any.”

“But this is different. Completely different. It will sober you up. Clear your head—promise.” “Right.” A drug that sobered you up and cleared your head didn’t sound like Boris’s style at all, although he did seem a good bit more with-it than me. “Look at me,” he said reasonably. “Yes.” He knew he had me. “Am I raving? Frothing at mouth? No—only being helpful! Here,” he said, tapping some out on the back of his hand, “come on. Let me feed it to you.” I half expected it was a trick—that I would pass out on the spot and wake up who knew where, maybe in one of the empty houses across the street. But I was too tired to care, and maybe that would have been okay anyway. I leaned forward and allowed him to press one nostril closed with a fingertip. “There!” he said encouragingly. “Like this. Now, sniff.” Almost instantly, I did feel better. It was like a miracle. “Wow,” I said, pinching my nose against the sharp, pleasant sting. “Didn’t I tell you?” He was already tapping out some more. “Here, other nose. Don’t breathe out. Okay, now.” Everything seemed brighter and clearer, including Boris himself. “What did I tell you?” He was taking more for himself now. “Aren’t you sorry you don’t listen?” “You’re going to sell this stuff, god,” I said, looking up at the sky. “Why?” “It’s worth a lot, actually. Few thousand of dollars.” “That little bit?” “Not that little! This is a lot of grams—twenty, maybe more. Could make a fortune if I divide up small and sell to girls like K. T. Bearman.” “You know K. T. Bearman?” Katie Bearman, who was a year ahead of us, had her own car—a black convertible—and was so far removed from our social scale she might as well have been a movie star. “Sure. Skye, KT, Jessica, all those girls. Anyway—” he offered me the vial again—“I can buy Kotku that keyboard she wants now. No more money worries.” We went back and forth a few times until I began to feel much more optimistic about the future and things in general. And as we stood rubbing our noses and jabbering in the street, Popper looking up at us curiously, the wonderfulness of New York seemed right on the tip of my tongue, an evanescence possible to convey. “I mean, it’s great,” I said. The words were spiraling and tumbling out of me. “Really, you have to come. We can go to Brighton Beach—that’s where all the Russians hang out. Well, I’ve never been there. But the train goes there—it’s the last stop on the line. There’s a big Russian community, restaurants with smoked fish and sturgeon roe. My mother and I always talked about going out there to eat one day, this jeweler she worked with told her the good places to go, but we never did. It’s supposed to be great. Also, I mean—I have money for school—you can go to my school. No—you totally can. I have a scholarship. Well, I did. But the guy said as long as the money in my fund was used for education—it could be anybody’s education. Not just mine. There’s more than enough for both of us. Though, I mean, public school, the public schools are good in New York, I know people there, public school’s fine with me.” I was still babbling when Boris said: “Potter.” Before I could answer him he put both hands on my face and kissed me on the mouth. And while I stood blinking—it was over almost before I knew what had happened—he picked up Popper under the forelegs and kissed him too, in midair, smack on the tip of his nose. Then he handed him to me. “Your car’s over there,” he said, giving him one last ruffle on the head. And—sure enough—when I turned, a town car was creeping up the other side of the street, surveying the addresses. We stood looking at each other—me breathing hard, completely stunned. “Good luck,” said Boris. “I won’t forget you.” Then he patted Popper on the head. “Bye, Popchyk. Look after him, will you?” he said to me.

Later—in the cab, and afterward—I would replay that moment, and marvel that I’d waved and walked away quite so casually. Why hadn’t I grabbed his arm and begged him one last time to get in the car, come on, fuck it Boris, just like skipping school, we’ll be eating breakfast over cornfields when the sun comes up? I knew him well enough to know that if you asked him the right way, at the right moment, he would do almost anything; and in the very act of turning away I knew he would have run after me and hopped in the car laughing if I’d asked one last time. But I didn’t. And, in truth, it was maybe better that I didn’t—I say that now, though it was something I regretted bitterly for a while. More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I’d stopped myself from blurting the thing on the edge of my tongue, the thing I’d never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying it out loud to him in the street—which was, of course, I love you.

[theoriginalspike]

for the weird ask thingy how about 1-98? so yes all of them please!

I’m gonna put this under a read more so that it’s not insanely long but thank you for allowing me to overshare because that’s literally all i want in life

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

coffee mugs, if i see one that i like, i usually buy it or think about it for a really long time. 

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

cotton candy, i can’t stand the smell or taste of bubblegum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

on most of my report cards i was a pleasure to have in class but has trouble actually turning in homework

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

either soda bottles or glass cups

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

i love the aesthetic of formal but i prefer boho/preppy 

7. earbuds or headphones?

earbuds, headphones squish my head

8. movies or tv shows?

movies 

9. favorite smell in the summer?

honeysuckle

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

being goalie for handball

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

peanut butter crunch clif bar

12. name of your favorite playlist?

summertime

13. lanyard or key ring?

keyring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

watermelon jolly ranchers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

fahrenheit 451

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

cross legged or leaning to the side with both feet tucked up next to me (only in a chair/on the couch though)

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

either birkenstocks or my bean boots

18. ideal weather?

slightly cloudy, breezy, and between 60 and 75 with a dew point under 55

19. sleeping position?

any position but on my back

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

i like a notebook, my fingers try to type too fast for my brain so i make a lot of mistakes and i need lines otherwise it slants all over the page

21. obsession from childhood?

i used to collect guitar picks. i have too many

22. role model?

my friend kelsey. she never let anyone’s opinions of her shape who she was. she did what she wanted and was such a free spirit. 

23. strange habits?

left goes first. if it’s makeup, my left eyebrow, lashes, contour, blush, anything goes first. left shoe goes on first, left pant leg, left shirt/jacket sleeve. left first or it feels wrong. 

24. favorite crystal?

i love amethyst because it’s purple.

25. first song you remember hearing?

probably american pie by don mclean.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

swimming

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

honestly stargazing. getting all bundled up and lying in a bunch of blankets is great. there no humidity to make the stars hazy and on a really clear night it’s beautiful.

28. five songs to describe you?

perfect - anne marie, devil’s in the canyon - the strike, orpheus - sara bareilles, rainbow - kacey musgraves, vienna - billy joel

29. best way to bond with you?

talk to me about music, animals, what you find beautiful or peaceful.

30. places that you find sacred?

any mountain top, the chapel in the pines at camp, fields of wildflowers, any waterfall.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

my black dress with big red roses and my black and white stripe heels with roses. 

32. top five favorite vines?

oh shit the tampons one, the no yelling sock, the souls of the innocent, bagel boys, that was majestic

33. most used phrase in your phone?

i have wtf set to automatically replace with what the fuck and i probably use that daily

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

i always have the cropp metcalfe jingle stuck in my head

35. average time you fall asleep?

on a work night usually between 10:30 and 11:30 but weekends its closer to midnight

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

probably those creepy u mad? and sad face drawings.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

i prefer a suitcase but not a huge one

38. lemonade or tea?

it has to be sweet tea if it’s iced

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

lemon cake. lemon meringue pie is never the right sweet/tart ratio

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

my senior yaer they locked the boys and girls bathrooms in the science wing because the boys were setting off axe bombs and the girls were smoking cigarettes

41. last person you texted?

my friend corinne

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

yes

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

yes

44. favorite scent for soap?

citrus. it just smells cleaner

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

i’m a sucker for fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

i have a couple of dresses that are stretchy but too short to be acceptable (imo) for public wear

47. favorite type of cheese?

i love mozarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

i’d be a peach

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

it’s chaos, be kind

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

probably just weird shit from camp

51. current stresses?

mmmmmm job hunting, packing for camp, cleaning

52. favorite font?

i can’t remember the font name but it’s like old typewriter letters

53. what is the current state of your hands?

i need to paint my nails and cut them

54. what did you learn from your first job?

that people are really fucking dumb and don’t read the fine print on their coupons

55. favorite fairy tale?

the princess and the pea

56. favorite tradition?

we always do a big pancake dinner on mardi gras

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

dealing with my hair’s natural curl pattern, and i’m gonna have to get back to you on the other two

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

i can braid hair really well, i can cook without a recipe, i made the highest swim level as a camper in 6 weeks my last year as a camper, i’m really good at cat’s cradle

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“absolutely not”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

i don’t watch anime so i have no idea

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“war is war and hell is hell. and of the two, war is a lot worse”

62. seven characters you relate to?

radar o’reilly, arya stark, dumplin’, carol danvers, eleanor shellstrop, wayne and daryl from letterkenny.

63. five songs that would play in your club?

gas pedal - sage the gemini, gasolina - daddy yankee, despacito - luis fonsi, bitch better have my money - rihanna, and only nicki minaj’s verse from monster

64. favorite website from your childhood?

neopets or i think it was whitesheepblacksheep but there was a site that had a maze game that was set to the music Orpheus in the Underworld

65. any permanent scars?

my right foot from being born c-section, right shin from a staph infection, left wrist and left foot from ganglion cysts, and my chin from a golf club

66. favorite flower(s)?

all of them EXCEPT for the flowers from bradford pear trees. fuck those.

67. good luck charms?

not really

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

oh god there was a grape juice my friend brenda had me try and it was just so tart it tasted like it had gone past expiration.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

i can tie and untie a hair tie with my fingers

70. left or right handed?

right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

i hate herringbone and houndstooth

72. worst subject?

the only math i breezed through was geometry

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

i really like potato chips and grape jelly

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

like a 6 or 7. unless it’s mouth pain then like a 3 at most. 

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

probably 7 or 8? i can’t remember but i DO know that my mother kept all of mine and my siblings baby teeth

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

potato gratin is amazing

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

succulents

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

coffee from a gas station specifically sheetz

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

oh god my school photo. my license photo i look like i WILL kill the photographer

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

jewel tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

i use both interchangeably 

82. pc or console?

i play internet games which is as far as i got with gaming. although i do really want a game cube so i can play monkeyball

83. writing or drawing?

writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

podcasts

84. barbie or polly pocket?

i have 2 pollypockets still and i refuse to give them up

85. fairy tales or mythology?

mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes?

cookies

87. your greatest fear?

i really don’t like the dark lmao

88. your greatest wish?

mmmm i’m honestly not sure

89. who would you put before everyone else?

barack obama

90. luckiest mistake?

not checking the weekend of my brother getting married and lucking out that i bought concert tickets for the weekend before

91. boxes or bags?

bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

fairy lights

93. nicknames?

libby, libs, libster, “ms. teaguerson” is one i’ve gotten from a couple of kids i’ve subbed for, any version of elizabeth at this point.

94. favorite season?

fall 

95. favorite app on your phone?

i just downloaded a crosswords app and it’s fantastic

96. desktop background?

the sky being absolutely BLACK during an afternoon storm right before a big event at camp

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

i think 8

98. favorite historical era?

i really love the clothes of the 40′s