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queerchoicesblog · 4 years

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The Movie Party (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 17)

So, folks, the SC Titanic Zetta x Adele Series has come to an end: this is the final chapter. It’s time for Zetta and Adele to have a reunion at last.

I want to thank all those who supported this crazy project of mine. This series has been quite important and will somehow still be, even if the original story is no longer available and it’s the end. But I will be grateful to the authors who crafted it: it was one of the few times I felt truly seen as represented as a wlw in a game.

You must forgive me if this chapter will be a bit longer but I wanted to bid a farewell to the various characters who made this story one hard to forget. It’s the finale: you either go big or go home, right? And you will find the explanation of the title of the series, if you haven’t figured it out already...

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Stay tuned next week for the Epilogue!

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters @brightpinkpeppercorn @michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri @choicesgremlin @lanzhansguqin @orange-elephants @wonder-falcon

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15 , Ch. 16

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The night of the Surviving the Titanic premiere, I walk into the venue at the arm of Richard, my little Napoleon in tow, 'fashionably late' as my fiancé puts it. We are greeted by the flash powder and shouts of the reporters and the awe of the guests gathered in the dashing foyer, waiting in line to show a steward their invitation. I wave at them, smiling and searching the crowd, while Richard tips his hat. Sadly, I do not see any familiar face or I don't recognise any before we walk past them and disappear behind the red velvet curtains of the auditorium. Another steward takes care of our coats while a colleague leads us to the honorary seats reserved for us and the rest of the crew.

We seat and wait. To keep my mind busy, I fix Richard's bow tie leaning to the side. I chat a bit with Sabine and compliment her outfit once again: I'm touched she decided to wear the pearl headband I gifted her when I made it into the movie industry. A birthday gift: she kept repeating she couldn't accept a gift like that but eventually I prevailed. Seeing it again after all those years...I'm so grateful she didn't listen to me and refused to bring it with her on our trip to Europe: "I'd rather not, Madam: I don't think I will have occasion to wear it", she said. I'm incredibly happy she deemed this night a right occasion. I'm so used to see her in her maid uniform that I forgot how she looks in an evening gown and the little detail makes her look like the friend she is to me. I'm pretty happy and proud of my outfit too. I picked it myself: I knew exactly what I wanted when I commissioned it to a New York fashion designer à la mode. I don't usually wear black, I much prefer colors, but lately I've been reconciling with it. And it seemed appropriate for the night: black is the color of mourning, right? What is tonight, this movie if not a commemoration of all those who aren't with us tonight, all those who sacrificed their lives for people like me and all the other survivors we managed to trace back, gathered here tonight? I'm not naive enough to ignore there is more to it, something less poetic, but I hold onto the remembrance of the lives lost. Onto that night: I hope the meaning of my sapphire necklace, the same one I wore on my birthday night, is not lost to those who were there. A hand on my shoulder, a gentle touch. As my heart races a bit faster I turn...but no, it's only my colleague, my fictional sister greeting me at the arm of John, Richard's right hand. I kiss her cheeks and invite the two of them to join us. She is visibly excited when she announces that the foyer is packed: she had never seen a crowd like that. It's a delight to hear but I can only hope in that crowd are a few familiar faces I long to see. One dear face I desperately long to see. One last time, at least if that's what it must be but I need to see her, to make amends and tell her the truth. She must know: I owe her that. When the stewards eventually open the velvet curtains, the auditorium fills fast, women in fur stoles and men in tuxedo swarm in like bees, chatting lively as they take a seat. I stretch my neck to see if I can find her face but my eyes only meet tycoons, socialite and strangers. Is that man over there checking the night programme Felix? I certainly hope so: if he's here, Lawrence must be too. And God knows how I need him tonight. After what feels like an eternity, it's time. The premiere begins. "Here goes nothing" Richard sighs, taking my hand into his as they dim off the lights. I wish I could have spotted Adele before darkness fall on the auditorium and the projector starts crackling. Apparently, uncertainty must torture me a bit longer.

As story unfolds on screen, I hear the audience hold their breath in awe and fear and for a moment I am reminded why I love my job: to give people feelings, to make them live lives they would never live even if for a fleeting moment. Their wonder, their tears of sorrow and joy are the best reward, the only reward I look for, even more important than the generous checks I receive for my performances: it makes me feel alive, it makes me believe that for a moment our hearts beat at unison and we're connected. When my character and her sister hug in the lifeboat and watch the sinking ship, the muffled sounds and sniffling around me tell me that no matter how hard performing that scene was, the message got trough. I am incredibly happy about this.

After the screening and a round of thunderous applauses, stewards lead us to the theater lobby. I have a look around while reporters and guests join us. Richard insisted to take care of the decorations and the whole movie party himself...well, with his staff: he claimed that he had asked of me too much already and he was happy to help and give Sabine a few days off. My little Napoleon was taken aback by the decision: she has always supervised every party, every mundane event. I look at her and I have to stifle a laugh at her unimpressed face. She's right: just like the picture, the decorations aren't grand enough, not luxurious enough and I have no doubt she would have done so much better than this. There isn't even music... I hear the clinking sound of camera and flash powder igniting and before I know it, a bunch of reporters are taking pictures. I put on my best smile and pose with Richard. When he agrees we offered enough coverage of the events for the moment, he guides me away from them towards a waiter in high uniform offering champagne glasses. He hands me one and takes one for himself. "To our success, to our night" he smiles, rising his glass. I repeat his toast and we cling glasses. I have just tasted the cold alcoholic sweetness of it that guests approach us. I do my best to be polite and charming: I know it's my duty even if it distracts me from my most important search for my love. Is she even here? Maybe she just tossed my invitation into the fireplace after my disappearance...oh, no, I don't wanna picture such thing! And I know it's selfish of me, maybe even my note was selfish...it probably would make things easier for her if I disappeared and let her live her life, if I let her forget me soon. Strip away the memory of the time we shared together like a band-aid. Maybe even engaging romantically with her was selfish of me in my situation...oh, I'm tormenting myself again! Focus, Zetta, focus! The guests profusely compliment and comments are awfully predictable: the jewelled wife of a well known mogul dramatically claims that the picture was "a true masterpiece" and she totally felt "as if she was there too that night". A young socialite nods and echoes her words: is she her daughter? I flash them a smile and say I am overjoyed to hear so, it was the effect we were hoping for. I am stuck into conversations like these until the party is in full swing. My head almost hurt at the insane amount of stale nonsense I hear: maybe Lawrence was right when he once said that the problem with fiction is that the audience hardly takes it as such and cannot distinguish between documentary and fictional movies. They will go to bed tonight truly convinced they know what we survivors felt that night, they will tell friends encouraging them to go see the picture (hopefully) but the truth is...they know nothing. They have no idea how terrifying it was, how gruesome. They have no idea what suddenly not knowing if you or your dear ones will see another dawn or hearing gunshots and screams of terror all around you feel. It's like ice flowing into your veins instead of blood, a clutching fear I will never forget. Their heart would have broken in a thousand pieces too hearing the despair in the voices of the poor souls swimming in the frozen water begging for a help that never came. Maybe this picture was a mistake after all, I don't know. I keep jumping from one conversation to another, peering across the crowd gathered on the balcony and below but I cannot spot anyone I know. Instead, a young man out of the blue asks me news of James: they're acquaintances and he was hoping to meet him here tonight. I sense Richard tensing up at my side as he sinks his glass of champagne. He was on the ship too, the young man continues, is he alright. I have no idea if the rumor of what happened at my birthday party has spread or if it faded away after the tragedy so I offer him a quick smile. I conceal how his reminding me of my fallen little prince is making my wound bleed again. James is fine as far as I know - I tell him - but sadly couldn't make it tonight, a previous engagement he couldn't postpone. My merciful lie seems to be enough for him as he tips his hat and asks me to bring him his greetings. As we part from them, I excuse myself and head away from the crowd "to fix my hair and rouge". Thankfully, Richard understands. He takes my glasses and places a quick kiss on my temple, whispering that it's alright, he will cover for me. He winks at me before greeting a colleague. I make a beeline for the restroom to catch some breath: I'm starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by this party but I must be patient, this night is nowhere close to be over soon. I take a deep breath, one last check and return to the lobby.

At the corner of my eye, I finally notice a familiar couple quietly having a drink in a defiled spot by the railing. Friendly faces, at last! I call their names and they turn. "Here's the belle of the ball!" Lawrence exclaims, approaching. He is charming as usual: he takes my hand and gallantly raised to his lips, smiling. He still looks tired and older than he actually is. I pull him into a quick hug. "You came, you old dog!" I joke, making him laugh. "And you too!" I wink at Felix who blushes slightly. When we part, I throw the two of them a look that - I hope - will convey my deep affection more than my words can. "I am incredibly happy you are here tonight" I smile softly. "We were incredibly happy to receive your invitation to the party, dear Zetta" Lawrence twists my words with his kindness. I take a look at him and flash him a sheepish smile. "You hated it, I know" He sighs before laughing, a gentle laugh. I speak again before he can formulate an excuse. "I can only hope I made up for it. My performance at least, the champagne..." "You were magnificent, Zetta. As usual" His smile is genuine, affectionate. Sweet dear Lawrence... "Tell you what, I had to give the gentleman here my handkerchief in the finale" he adds, a playful yet equally affectionate smile on his lips, nodding to his companion. Felix sighs, shaking his head. He cannot refrain a smile. I laugh and hug him. "That is such a great compliment, thank you, darling!" He's always been a big fan of me, he notes and Lawrence is quick to confirm it. We share a long look, quiet, safely away from the loud crowd. When will I see the two of them again? "Lots of people here tonight" Lawrence comments, after a moment, his blue eyes roaming the lobby packed with guests. "Yeah..." I sigh. "Yet you are the first friendly faces I bump into tonight. Well, apart from Sabine. Can you believe it?". I'm not surprised that he understands the unsaid. I'm relieved, actually: concealing my vulnerability but not to the point a man like him cannot sense it, underneath my words. He shares a quick look with Felix before reaching for my hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "Maybe it's just because you got stuck with those socialites in high hats and furs and embarrassingly expensive jewels" He winks at me and I laugh, a liberating laugh I needed so much. "Maybe" I concede before adding, hesitant. "I don't even know what I should hope for, Lawrence". He considers my words and when his eyes meet mine again, I don't want to let go of his hand. I want to hold onto him. "The night is not over, right?". I smile weakly at him: he's right but I have no idea if it's a good thing or not. Maybe it will only mean my agony is far from ending anytime soon. He seems to be reading my own thoughts. "Chin up, dear Zetta. And if you need us, we will be downstairs. Just say the word" Sometimes I wonder what I did good to have a man like him being so kind and thoughtful with me. I nod and try to recollect myself. I wish I could stay with them a bit longer but I see reporters approaching and a proper host cannot disappear forever. Sadly I must go, they know it. After one last lingering look, I take my leave. Evading the reporters is a lost war, so I surrender and pose again. How many pictures do they need, goddammit? Oh boy, this flock of vultures wants statements too. Fine, I know what to say. Marvel at how many people gather here tonight, tell how important this movie is to you, how you hope it will help bring along the memory of the tragedy...and start over. Then, with nonchalance and a charming, unreadable smile, walk away. Thank God, it works. I look for Richard or Sabine but they are both nowhere in sight. I shake hands with a couple of New York socialites when I hear a voice behind me calling my name, quietly almost shyly. I turn and see a young woman in a floral dress, red hair in elegant waves and big green eyes looking at me in awe. "Miss Serda, I just wanted to thank you for your invitation and say how flawless your performance was tonight". I flash her a smile. Have we met already? I cannot tell... "Did you enjoy the picture?" "Yes, quite a lot! Even if it's not the same, of course..." she lowers her eyes as if ashamed to anger me with such an undeniable truth. "Were you on the ship?" I inquiry, in my most reassuring voice. "Yes" she nods. "I was..." she pauses before shaking her head, a brighter smile relaxing her face. "Actually I was Adele's cabinmate. Your secretary's cabinmate, I mean". I gape and take a better look at the redhead in front of me. But of course! I saw her on the deck with a Adele as we were playing shuffleboard with the Baron. I tell her so, hoping to make her happy. It works, apparently: she looks pleasantly surprised I remember her. "You're...Clorinda!" I exclaim, reminiscing Lucille's words at our dinner, when she recognised Adele's dress as one of her own creation, a gift to her favourite model. She laughs, but her laugh is weak. "I was Clorinda, yes". "Lucille sang your praises during our journey" I smile. "Will I see you soon at her upcoming show?". "I'm afraid not, Miss Serda" her lips twist in a pained smile. "I no longer work for Mrs Duff-Gordon". Seeing my surprised face, she continues.

"I had an accident during the sinking. I am no longer suited to work as a mannequin" she explains, quickly lowering her eyes before meeting mine again and adding, cheerfully: "But it's alright. I am here, I am alive and I am in America...it's all that matters, right?". We smile weakly at each other for a moment. I feel sorry for this girl even if she seems stronger than she looks. "Adele talked of you" I tell her and I'm glad to see the mix of surprise and excitement on her face. "You're the big fan of mine who kindly borrowed the posters and memorabilia for my birthday party at the Cafe Parisien. Seeing the old and new posters, reading the little notes you wrote...it meant so much to me, truly. I have never had a chance to thank you properly but I will always remember your kindness to me". A hint of red spreads over her cheeks as she smiles a big bright smile. "Oh, it was nothing, Miss Zetta...I was honoured to give my humble contribution to your birthday. If it made you happy, I'm happy, overjoyed!". I laugh softly at her contagious enthusiasm. Adele told me it was quite endearing and she was right. Her cabinmate speaks again, still gleaming but recovering the initial shyness. "Miss Serda, I was wondering if I could...well, if I could get your autograph? I was hoping to ask you during the crossing but then.." "But of course!" I smile and beckon a steward over. When he's back with a promotional picture and a pen, I look back at my fan. "What name should I write?" "Oh, Lena. Lena Montague but Lena is just perfect". I write my dedication and hand it to her. She takes a step forward, limping a little, and I get a glimpse of her wooden leg as she looks down at the picture with reverence. "There, for you. And your new collection, maybe" I wink.

She thanks me but I insist that it's my line. And a sudden idea crosses my mind. "Thank you for coming, Miss Montague. I am glad I got a chance to make your acquaintance. And I was wondering...I remember expressing the wish to invite you for breakfast after being informed of your lovely gesture, to thank you. Would you accept a belated invitation? Let's say next week?". I have never seen such starry eyes on a face of a fan. "And who would be so foolish to turn down an invitation from you, Miss Serda? Sure thing!" "Excellent! I'll send my maid to you then, she's here somewhere...enjoy the party, Miss Montague". I kiss her cheeks and offer her one last smile before going back to my guests. I search Sabine but I find Richard instead, who introduces me to a couple of survivors he shook hands with. It doesn't take long before I realise why he wanted me to meet them: they say they were on my lifeboat and it was thanks to my intervention that they survived that awful night. They will be eternally grateful. I...I don't know what to say. I see Richard smiling proudly down at me while a faint blush spread over my cheeks. I tell them I am sure they would have helped too if the roles were reversed and wish them a happy new life in America. As they part, I finally spot my little Napoleon approaching, imperturbable as the Sphinx, quietly observing the stewards moving from one side of the hall to other. You can take away her apron but not her inquisitive gaze, I suppose: no rest for Sabine... "Ah, here you are!" I greet her, before teasing her. "I feared I lost you in the crowd" She offers me a quick amused smile. "I wasn't lost, Madam, just mingling. An impressive crowd tonight, n'est pas?" "Beyond our wildest expectations, yes!" Richard confirms, eyes roaming the upper floor.

"I am glad to hear, Monsieur King. A well deserved success" my maid bows her head, concealing once again the disappointment for not being involved in the party setting. Then she turns towards me and continues, with a nonchalance that is only pretended. I know it quite well... "By a fortunate coincidence, I bumped into Miss Carrem just a moment ago". I can only hope my face doesn't betray my feelings, the turmoil her words provoked inside me. Adele is here, she came. I will get to see her at least one last time, I will talk to her. My words will be a poor consolation to her maybe but...I will see her again. "Carrem...Carrem, Carrem...oh right, your secretary on board, huh?" Richard exclaims but I barely register what he's saying. All I can think of is Adele, Adele here, tonight. Oh God, thank you! "Oui, precisement" my little Napoleon confirms on my behalf as I cannot speak. "An exquisite young lady, if I say so myself. The best candidate we had in ages, Monsieur, and I am not easily impressed, I assure you". Richard says something about how he would love to make her acquaintance and thank Miss Carrem personally but I am not listening just like the night of our arrival when he was stroking my hand but my head was far away with he woman I foolishly a abandoned at the pier. "I left her in the main hall downstairs. She's with her sister" Sabine adds, addressing me. Snapping out of my reverie, I manage to remind Richard that I talked a little about them. They were on my lifeboat too, we stayed together on the Carpathia...but I am extremely grateful to the providential steward who beckons him over. He sighs and excuses himself, saying he will be back before we know it. As soon as he's out of earshot and someone else interrupts me again, I wrap my arm around Sabine's and lead her to the side, by the railing. Now that Richard is gone, I can show my concern more freely. To some extent, obviously but I think I am safe with my little Napoleon.

"How is she? Did she look alright?" I inquiry, checking over my shoulder. Sabine ponders her words, as if thinking how to describe the impression her brief meeting with Adele left on her. After what feels like an eternity for my tormented heart, she speaks. "If I may, she looks...troubled". I knew it, I feared so. But hearing it put down into words makes me frown. "Troubled? But of course...what a fool I have been! I shouldn't have invited her here tonight, I should have visited her and-" But I can't bring myself to finish my own sentence. "Troubled with grief, I mean. With with the weight of what happened that night. Mourning, you would say, perhaps". Then she sighs, a deep sigh, shaking her head. "It's such a pity to see a young woman like her taking the world over her shoulders, all that sorrow, all that pain". "She wouldn't be Adele if she didn't" I smile, thinking of every time she spoke of her fight for women's rights, the days she spent in jail for it. My sweet revolutionary is indeed a little Atlas and I fear no one can change that, it's simply her nature. But it pains me to see her so miserable and I cannot shake away the feeling that my disappearance played a role in it. At the very least I added salt on her injury. "But Mademoiselle Carrem is strong" Sabine interrupts my somber train of thoughts. "She just needs time, that's all, I think. Time and a little joie de vivre, don't you think, Madam?".

I smile sadly at her words. "Don't we all need it, ma chére Sabine? A little joie the vivre...". Yes, it certainly would be nice. But is it even possible? Even for people like me and Adele or are we forced to be content with cheap surrogates that keep us floating on the water surface? I wish I had an answer... "I will go talk to her" I sigh, straightening my skirt. "I am sure MademoIselle Carrem will be delighted to see you, Madam". "I hope so, Sabine". Yes, I do hope so. We look at each other for a moment before I speak again. "Oh, before I forget...would you mind getting Miss Montague's address and find out when I can meet her for breakfast next week or so?" I ask, nodding at my fan's figure in the hall downstairs. "And book a table to the Plaza or the St Regis. They're both fine...oh and please, send Miss Montague a poster of Surviving the Titanic. I'll ask Richard to sign it too". I fill her in about the details of Lena's life before the sinking and her troubled arrival: the incident, the loss of her job and the end of her modelling career. Sabine bows her head. "Certament, Madam". "In the meantime, I'll see if I can find a way to do more. I wish I could do more for her, somehow" I continue, lost in my thoughts. My little Napoleon nods and goes quiet, pondering. Around us, the sound of laughters and clinging glasses. When she speaks again, she almost startles me. "I'll be on my way" she announces, standing straighter. Before taking her leave, she looks at me and comments quietly that it has just come to her mind that I still haven't found a new secretary since our arrival. I know that look, that pretended nonchalance once again. As Richard approaches, I give her arm a gentle squeeze, a faint smile crossing my lips. "Go find Miss Montague, Sabine. And not a word on this before I speak to the girl". She throws me a conspiratorial look and walks away. When I turn, Richard is offering me his arm. "Fancy a trip downstairs, darling?". "I thought you never asked!" I smirk, wrapping my arm around his.

As we start walk down the stairs, I can feel my heart beating faster in my chest at the thought of my proximity to Adele, how close we are after all this months...even if it's also different now. But it doesn't matter: I don't want it to matter now...what did she say on the deck of the sinking ship? ‘All I care about is that you're here with me, and safe’. Yes, that it's all I care about too. I...saw her. She's with Hileni by a small table with hors d'ouvres and a pyramid of champagne glasses. Be still my heart, I beg you, be still...but it doesn't listen. I cannot control it anymore now that I know for sure she's here. She's wearing a green dress that it or just perfect for her but it enhances her beauty, if it's even possible. Oh, Adele...you have no idea how badly I have missed you! I feel my face lighten up and my lips curl into a bright, happiest smile. See what hold you have on me, my love? I don't even pay attention to those who greet and part as I walk by: I only have eyes for one guest now, for her. The first who spots me is Hileni: her eyes widen at the sight of me. I suppose she has never seen me in all my glory before; on the Carpathia, even if I was still wearing the outfit of my birthday party underneath the coat a kind fan gave me, I was out of my element just like the rest of us. Adele turns a moment later, following her sister's gaze. When our eyes meet, I almost feel my knees get weak. I hope she can see that this smile is meant for her only. I think she does, she brightens up almost immediately I turn towards Richard. "Will you excuse me a moment? I want to say hi to a dear friend I haven't seen in a while...". Dear friend: the euphemism is an insult to what Adele means to me but it will do. Just like the fiction, it's what the world can take. "Sure, go ahead. I'll go find John" he smiles, parting. I immediately glide over to my love, heart racing in my chest. "Adele"

I call her name and the sweet sound of her name fills my mouth. I place my hand on her upper arms and kisses both her cheeks. Restraining myself from pulling her into a tight embrace and linger in that closeness is a Herculean effort. Her perfume, the shade of red spreading over her cheeks, her shy smile. How I missed you... "Let's you and I catch up" I say, still smiling so brightly. I turn to Hileni and ask: "Mind if I borrow your sister for a moment?". She nods, still looking awed. Without hesitation, I take Adele's arm and lead her to a corner of the room apart from the other guests. For a moment, none of us can't find words. Funny how words are most difficult to find with those who are dearest to our heart. But I know what it is...I feel it too. The weight of our past between us. The memory of our brief happiness together.

A last, I summon up enough courage to finally speak. "Ad-" "I-" We start talking at the same time, then burst into laughter. Look at us, two fools lost to love! "I feel...almost nervous. Ridiculous, aren't I?" I keep my smile on but I know, just know she sensed the vulnerability reverberating in my voice who has suddenly lost the confidence I had before with my guests. She smiles too, gesturing that it's alright. "Zetta, it's...so good to see you again". I am sure my mind now is less cheerful. Time for my poor apologies. "I'm sorry, Adele. I should have written or visited" I sigh. "I've just been so busy..." To my surprise, she interrupts me, understanding, smiling. "I understand. You've been making the film, and you're getting married..." But she suddenly lose the train of whatever else she had planned to say. Adele, you and I can try to behave normally around each other, to act as if nothing happened...but we simply fail all the time. Our feelings always get in the way, my love, and God knows if I don't know it too well. And this, this sadness cutting off your words is all my fault. "I know you're upset" I frown.

She meets my eyes again in a silent, unnecessary apology. You have nothing to apologise for, I do. And I owe you the cruel truth, at last. I take in a deep breath to steady myself and let my mask fall. I drop my voice to a whisper so that only she can hear. "I've been agonizing over what I'd say when I saw you. And I never came up with a good answer". Adele, if only you knew the nights I spend writing you the most ardent, sorrowful letters! "I love you. I want to be with you. But this marriage has to go forward or my career's done". Do you understand my impossible position, my dearest? But please, I beg you never doubt my feelings. "Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar...but never doubt I love". When she speaks, her voice is a pained whisper and her words an excruciating plea. "Zetta, please don't do this. I want us to spend our lives together". I couldn't ask for anything better, sweet Adele, but...there is always a cruel but for us. "Even if that life had to be kept secret?" I grimace. "If people knew about us, it would destroy everything I've worked for". Look what malicious rumours brought on Lawrence and Felix even without a solid evidence of their relationship. Look what the world does to people like us. These guests, my adoring fans crowd the movie theaters to see me fall in love with the hero, the dashing heartthrob 'every woman daydream of' without asking me what I really want. They smile and awe at me tonight but they wouldn't hesitate to drag me down into the gutter if they knew who my heart truly belongs to. "I...I can't have both you and my career".

I lower my eyes unable to sustain her gaze any longer. I am so incredibly sorry, Adele, so sorry.... She reaches for my hand, shyly, and I am reminded of the first time she took my hand into hers in my private projection room on board of the Titanic. The soothing warmth of her hand over mine felt so intimate, calming...just like now. I look back at her and I have to fight back tears. She looks over her shoulder then she speaks, her voice low. "I don't care if no one knows about us. All I care about is that there is an us. I need you, Zetta". My eyes widen as I register the meaning of her words. Does she...does she mean it? "Are you sure?" I ask her, unsure whether she is fully aware of what she's proposing. "This won't be like it was on the Titanic, bathhouses and stolen kisses. It won't be easy..." She searches my eyes and nods. I...I would have never thought nor hoped for such a hopeful end of this conversation I feared so much. Oh my dear...not losing Adele, being with Adele! Out of instinct, I move to kiss her but I refrain myself just in time, painfully aware of the surroundings. I must long for your lips a bit longer, my love...but it doesn't matter, we're together now. "We'll need to come up with a plan..." I consider. "How do you feel about being my publicist?". "About as confident as I felt about being your secretary" she beams. I laugh as I laughed with her in the most dire moments...incredible what a light she casts on me, even when I am at my lowest. I regard her fondly as a newfound sweet joie de vivre starts spreading inside me, and I put my hand to her cheek. "This is the happiest I've felt in months...knowing you'll be at my side" I whisper, my voice trembling with the swirl of feelings taking hold of me. "Always" she whispers back, slightly leaning to the touch.

Suddenly we're both brought back to the party by the flash powder igniting around us. As I unwillingly retrieve my hand we're surrounded by journalists shouting my name. I am too overjoyed by our sweet reunion to be annoyed by them. I wish they could have forgotten about me a bit longer, granting me more time with Adele but they are oddly bearable this time.

I see her leaning closer and putting her mouth to my ear. The words she whispers send my heart fluttering.

"I love you". I turn my face to meet her eyes. I must summon every ounce of strength I have to stop myself from pulling her mouth to mine, pouring my affection on her right in front of the photographers. I see the same restraint in her eyes. There will be other nights for that. Yes, there will other nights... "And I you" I whisper back. My voice is soft, adoring...how could I not adore her? I smile at her one last time before turning to the cameras and bathing into the flash lights. They better capture this moment, I think: I will never be as radiant as I am now. As they keep calling my name and taking picture of me posing, I slowly return to the party I momentarily left for my reunion to Adele. I spot Richard and John lightening cigarettes by the staircase and not far Miss Montague chatting with a man I have never seen before. Sabine is checking herself in a mirror, fixing her headband...a rare moment of vanity for her. Hileni is pondering whether going for the pastry mignons is a bit too much and once saw me looking at her, she shyly waves at me and walks away. To my delight, Lawrence is signing an autograph to a fan, under the proud gaze of Felix, who took a step back. Good old Lawrence... ‘Sometimes our secrets are what make our lives worth living. No matter with what high cost they come attached’, he said. And he was right. I used to repeat to myself that you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater. It turns out I was wrong. With her love, I can breathe underwater.

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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aph-honk-kong · 4 years

Text

Soaring Gold

After one successful marriage comes a very unsuccessful engagement. [A continuation of this.] [Very late for day six of @aphasiaweek with the prompt of “culture”.]

Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong

“Wah diuuuu, you tried to ask out a Diocesan alumni? I bet she turned you down before you could say ‘five double stars’.”

“I finally got that apartment in Qatar! It cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. Do you think I should go for a place in California, next?”

“Hold on, which province did you say your sister moved to?”

A million conversations seem to be happening at the same time, a cacophony of voices filling Harald’s head as he tries to find his table. The dining room is massive, at least three times as big as the entirety of the Dragon Room back in London, and he has no idea where he’s supposed to be sitting.

“Babe!”

Leon grabs him from behind and presses a not-so-sneaky kiss to the tip of his ear. He can feel his ears getting warm. “I was wondering where the fuck you’d gone off to. Come on, our table’s right next to the happy couple’s.”

He’s lead to a table near the centre of the room, covered in a pure-white tablecloth and set with elegant porcelain plates. Ling is already sitting there, deep in conversation with the blonde next to her. Also at the table are Lauren, Berwald and his husband.

“Why the fuck are you grading papers?” Leon exclaims incredulously.

“Because I care more about my students than this massive dinner that’s probably going to last three hours, that’s why,” Lauren shoots back. “Heaven forbid some of us actually have to work for a living.”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Oh wow, so hurtful. I feel deeply wounded.”

Rolling his eyes, Harald sits down. Next to him is Berwald’s husband, who smiles at him. “Well, hello again!”

“Hi.”

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet.” He extends his hand. “My name is Timo Väinämöinen. This is my husband Berwald.”

Berwald shakes his hand next, saying quietly, “I believe I know your brother?”

“My brother-in-law, actually,” Harald corrects. “Henrik says you’re the reason he and Stell got to come here.”

“Speaking of Henrik,” Ling cuts in, “is nobody going to talk about how he looked in that suit of his? I may be a lesbian, but hot damn.”

The woman next to her scrunches her face up slightly in dissatisfaction.

“Don’t be jealous, Nat.” She giggles and kisses her temple. “The man’s a pancake, unlike you.”

“A pancake?” Nat rolls her eyes. “He’s a crepe.”

Harald chokes on his water.

...

A few tables away, many-named Arthur is sitting with Francis, Roderich, Erzsébet, Jo and Niklas, nibbling daintily on the pig’s-ears biscuits served before the banquet is due to start. He occasionally throws a glance towards the married couple’s table, where Vicente and Madeline are practically sitting on each other’s lap. “Goodness gracious, how much do you think they spent on this wedding?”

“Including the chapel, the after-ceremony lunch, the Rolls-Royce that drove them here, this dining room, the banquet, the complimentary party favours, the lucky draw involving twenty-four-karat gold jewellery and however much it took to get Mr. Edelstein to perform, I assume the entire thing cost at least two million Hong Kong dollars,” Niklas pipes up. He snatches the last biscuit before Arthur can and crunches it loudly. “Give or take a million or so.”

The adults all stare at him in shock. Roderich leans over to whisper to Arthur, “see, this hip new Scandinavian education system that treats kids like human beings lets them pull things like this. But again, he’s not even wrong...”

Francis smiles and pats Niklas on the head. “You were very close. The wedding actually cost five million. Five million Euros, that is.”

His eyes widen. “Euros!?”

“Oui, Euros. I am pretty sure that’s more than the GDP of some countries.”

Jo looks around them, big eyes taking in every bit of the room’s extravagance. “If I ever get married, I’m going to do it in a park or something. The guests can wear whatever they want and the only food we serve will be the wedding cake.”

“Nonsense, I’ll organise your wedding in St. Stephen’s Cathedral.”

They blow a raspberry at their father.

Erzsébet points at the table next to the couple’s. “Say, isn’t that Vicente’s brother?”

“That’s Leon, all right.” Francis takes a sip of white wine, swirling it around the glass. “He even brought along a common boy. Poor Yao, can you imagine what he’s thinking?”

“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Roderich tuts. “At least Leon’s not trying to marry him. The continent would go up in flames.”

Arthur clicks his tongue disapprovingly. He’s looking at another table, where the more famous guests are sitting. “I know his brother, who attended my luncheons while on tour in England. The two of them are fine fellows, I must admit, but unfit to marry into the Wang family.”

“That guy dresses funny,” Jo says. “At least, he doesn’t dress like the rest of us. Nik thought he was the usher when we got to the chapel.”

“Sounds about right!” Francis laughs. “Nobody would expect somebody of his upbringing to know how to dress.”

A group of waiters enter the room, holding a number of steaming dishes. Roderich sits up straighter and elbows his child sharply. “Put that tablet of yours away, now. The banquet is starting.”

...

“This is incredible,” Harald says for what feels like the millionth time. Course after course has been served, each plate presenting a clever fusion dish he never would have thought of. Nothing at the Dragon Room could ever compare.

“Vic hired two of Asia’s best chefs to make tonight’s banquet, plus their wedding cake.” Leon nibbles at a forkful of buttery Arborio rice before setting it down on his almost-finished plate of white-truffle garlic butter and Hangzhou shrimp risotto. “The desserts are going to blow you away.”

He nods gratefully at the waiter who takes his dish away. “I want to meet the chefs behind this one day.” The next dish is placed down, and Harald stares down at it. On the plate is a mini sculpture made of sorbet, shaped like a rosebush with tiny candy flowers and caramel branches. “You’d have to be some kind of genius to think of this.”

“I think you’re plenty genius yourself,” Leon quips. He swallows his first bite of sorbet before kissing him briefly. His lips taste of mint.

Soon, dessert is over and a pair of waiters wheel out the massive wedding cake. The icing around it is pure-white, topped with narrow grey-pink filigree patterns. At the very top of the cake is a sugar butterfly, holding two thin sheets of rice paper covered in thin writing, inked with chocolate sauce. Harald peers closer and realises it’s Vicente and Madeline’s wedding vows.

“Amazing, huh?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

Leon stands up the moment they receive their slice, holding his plate and his dessert fork. “Grab your plate, too.”

“Won’t people notice?” Harald protests.

“They would, on most cases.” He winks at his brother, who smiles back while balancing the caramel butterfly on a plate. Vicente stands up, hand in hand with Madeline, and lift the plate up. A crowd of photographers surge forward, cameras at the ready, to capture the moment. Leon grabs his hand and tugs. “But not today.”

Holding on to his plate, Harald follows him out of the dining room, up grand staircases and past jewellery stores until they reach the topmost layer of the hotel. Leon opens the door, revealing a stunning rooftop garden.

Nobody is there, and the only sound is that of leaves being rustled. He leads him to sit down on a cushioned loveseat that overlooks the streets and Victoria Harbour. On the other side of the Harbour, Central glows radiantly.

“Isn’t this a better view than that stuffy dining room?” Leon eats his first forkful of cake.

Harald cuts into his slice and pops it into his mouth. It turns out to be a rich red velvet cake, dotted through with pieces of vanilla fudge and lemon crumble. He smiles. “This is good.”

“We’ve been going to parties all weekend, so it’s nice that we get some time alone.” He reaches across the loveseat to hold his hand. “I’m almost dreading going back to London. What would I do without all my crazy friends?”

He lets out a short puff of laughter. “‘Crazy’ is an understatement. No sane person would spend so much money on a wedding!”

“You said once that you’d prefer a simple wedding if you ever got married,” Leon reminisces,” and I gotta say the same. I’d go nuts organising stuff like this!”

Slice of cake finished, Harald shifts closer to snuggle up to Leon, shrugging his suit jacket off. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“Love you too.” He drops an absent kiss on the top of his head. “I actually have something to tell you.”

“Hmm?”

Leon pulls a small box out of his pocket and shows it to him. Harald’s breath hitches.

“Normally guys would get down on a knee to do this, but I don’t want to stop cuddling you so here we are.” He drops his gaze for a moment before returning it, strong and sure. “And, uh, I just love you so much and I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” He flicks the box open, revealing a simple silver ring. “So what I want to know is... is if you want to marry me.”

Harald’s cheeks prickle with heat. His heart is thudding wildly in his chest. “I - “ he sputters. “Of cour - “

“STOP!”

The door leading back to the hotel swings open. Standing in the doorway is Yao, arms crossed and glaring daggers at them. Leon glares back. “What are you doing here?”

Yao marches towards the loveseat. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. “Ka Long, I know you’re planning to marry Harald. And I’m here to say that you can’t. I forbid it!”

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lookslikechill · 6 years

Text

The Cafe Test: A Characterization Exercise

Tagged by @writingonesdreams!! Thank you!

I was going to do this with DW’s big four (Clay, Alistair, Miles, and Quince) but then I decided it would be nice to work with some other characters on this! So I stuck 23 of DW’s biggest players, including the main four boys, into a randomizer and went with the first four:

Adrian Risinger

Daniel Morrin

Blake Elmfield

Daphne Donovan

Did they get a cafe they liked? What kind of cafe do they like? What does that say about their character?

Adrian and Morrin both exist in the small coastal city of Port Cassandra in the 40′s, so their options are limited to upwards of three local options.

Morrin: Would be comfortable in any of them. As a Port Cassandra Police Officer he’ll receive respect (and probably a small discount) at any of them, which he enjoys. After Sinclair and alongside Sawtelle, he probably makes public appearances in local places/businesses/etc off duty the most often.

Adrian: Would go wherever the crowd is thinnest, less racket, and would not make a habit of going to any one cafe too frequently, to avoid being noticed.

Blake and Daphne live in the much bigger city of Astervale, in the year 4146, so they have a much larger variety of options.

Blake: Would choose a cafe with a lot of different food options along the lines of sandwiches, soup, etc, even bordering on a diner. If the cafe were to become a favorite of hers, it would probably have a rotating menu or specials that change very often. She’s a total foodie who likes to try new things.

1. Where do they sit? (Near the door because there’s an exit? Near the back to hide? Where it’s shadowy? Where they’ll be seen by a waiter? Lots of table space for writing/drawing/hands? Minimal space? Would they ever sit with others? What do these things say about their character?)

Adrian: Would sit where she is somewhat hidden, especially from anybody passing by outside or just walking in, and never with other people. As a wizard living in Port Cassandra’s tiny magical underground, she doesn’t want to be noticed when she’s among the regular population, and she doesn’t want to be questioned. She would need minimal space, keep to herself, and make little noise since she would only be visiting for a short time and only for a small snack.

Morrin: He would sit as close to the entrance as possible, or by/at a window, if not both at the same time. He likes to peoplewatch and will start conversations unprompted. He absolutely will take up more space than necessary, often filling up an entire other chair next to or across from him with his various possessions- hat, coat, briefcase. He’ll stretch and spread his legs about, rest an arm on the chair next to him (and probably not the one he’s already filled with his stuff). He’s a big guy with a big ego, he has no problem filling up space.

Blake: She would pick a seat with the best view of the city/outdoors to make the most of her outing. Outside of work, Blake typically spends most of her free time entertaining and feeding herself at home, so going to a cafe would be a special treat for herself.

Daphne: Daphne would prefer a cafe with lots of floor space, furniture very spread out, and lots of natural sunlight. However, Daphne is a community gal who will rarely be caught inside a restaurant/cafe/bar without a couple coworkers OR her entire family, so she may end up wherever other people want to go. She’d need extra space just to accommodate the people in her company.

2. What do they order? (Is it sweet? Is it focused on hydration only? Is it expensive? (Can they afford it if it is?) Is it milky and warm? Is it to wake them up? To comfort them like a hot cocoa? Does it bring back memories? Do they get a drink connected to other people in their lives?)

Adrian: She’d get a great big mug of hot chocolate, hot and sweet.

Morrin: The largest cup of coffee available, darkest roast possible, milk, no sugar.

Blake: She would order some sort of hot tea, probably not anything fruity, and she would add no milk and no sugar.

Daphne: She would get a small iced coffee with cream, sugar, and some sort of fruit flavoring like mango or blueberry. Just a small taste of something sweet. A treat in moderation, a show of self restraint.

3. If they get a snack, what do they get? (See above for similar questions to ask. Another good one is: Are they allergic to anything? Are there health concerns? Do they have to worry about their digestion for any reason? Or is their stomach made of steel?)

Adrian: She would get a small cookie of some sort.

Morrin: He would get a plain bagel with butter, or something equally simple and flavorless.

Blake: She would get a good spread of food, between 2-4 different things, depending on what the cafe had available, and then she’d sit back and take her time consuming it all.

Daphne: Would order something balanced for herself, vegetables and fruit and eggs, perhaps with some kind of bread item on the side.

4. How do they pay? (Are they rich? Poor? Do they count their pennies or do they throw a whole bunch of gold on the table? Or are they rich and stingy, counting their pennies because that’s how they got rich in the first place? Do they run out without paying? Do they not give a shit about the law? Are they desperate for a feed and want to pay but just can’t?)

Adrian: Isn’t poor, but the currency she possesses is useless outside of the Underground. She would trick the waitstaff into thinking she paid with Magic. Later, it would wear off and they would realize she never paid, but by then the memory of what Adrian looked like would have somehow crumbled.

Morrin: In coin, bc it’s 1947. Probably just leaves the money on the table and walks out.

Blake & Daphne: Pay cash? Tipping is probably old hat . . . (I need to give currency & payment practices in 4146 NY/USA more thouhght)

5. How do they interact with staff? (No eye contact? Lots of smiles? Friendly banter? Awkward conversation?)

Adrian: Small, polite smiles, limited eye contact, almost too quiet when she speaks.

Morrin: He’d be perfectly charming, all grins and jokes and boisterous laughter. As long as no mistakes are made, he’s pleasant, and even adored by the staff.

Blake: Lots of eye contact and chatter. She’ll want to know what their personal favorites are, what’s been most popular, etc, etc.

Daphne: Polite and pleasant, but clearly not there to spend much time socializing with the staff.

Tagging: @transboywrites @requiemesque @mouwwie @nkta-ink

#tag game #writeblr tag game #characterization exercise #character building #dw #dw:wip #daydream walking #adrian risinger #daniel morrin #blake elmfield #daphne donovan

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

A Cat's Intuition (Shalaska) 2/4 - Lunaska

A/N: So, here she is.This fic, like most things I write, is a slow-burn, so be patient with me. The waiter/bartender as described in this chapter is probably ridiculously inaccurate, but it’s how I need it to be. This chapter was fun to write and I hope you like it as much as I do. Please leave me some feedback!

Aaron’s ears were red.

And his neck.

And his face.

And probably everything else too.

In his haste to get rid of the small colony of underwear that had settled on his living room rug, he had made some poor decisions.

First of all, walmart shopping bags are good for many things: acting as small trash can liners, handy helpers when you have to pick up the shit your neighbor’s dog keeps leaving on your lawn, and the classic “i’m staying at a friend’s house and don’t want my dirty clothes to touch the rest of my clothes.”

One of the things walmart shopping bags were not known for is their stealth.

Being mildly transparent, flimsy, and noisy, they are not the best at keeping secrets.

Another important thing to take into account is that when you want to keep the contents of your grocery bags hidden, you should probably tie them shut.

Needless to say, Aaron’s decision making skills were proving subpar.

But, his lack of knowledge in the art of the covert didn’t stop there.

On his way to drop his bag of underwear off in the big trash in the parking lot, he made a crucial error: being a distracted son a bitch.

Aaron wasn’t sure the quarter he bent over to pick up was worth the embarrassment of having his bag full of underwear spill out all over the concrete.

Underwear that wasn’t even his.

To top all it off, it was in front of the new guy who lived right next door.

As he stared at the brunette sitting on the ground in front of him, he tried to think of any possible excuse he could use to justify what was happening.

He didn’t want to be the neighborhood weirdo.

“I’m really sorry, I was just, uhm, doing some spr-”

“Is that my fucking underwear?” The other man interrupted. Though, he didn’t seem as angry as he did shocked and confused.

Aaron tried to swallow the huge lump that had just formed in his throat, but it wasn’t going down.

He decided to stop trying.

Choking sounded pretty good right now.

xxxx

Justin was just trying to have a normal fucking day.

Instead, he was standing across from his new neighbor, who seemed to have a penchant for stranger’s undergarments. The man was sitting on the concrete with his scruffy blond hair in his hands. The bag that once contained the underwear was gone with the breeze, leaving only its previous contents to color the sidewalk.

Fucking walmart bags.

He really didn’t have enough time to process the scene before him. Even if he did have all the time in the world, he certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever this shit show was going to entail.

The blond was now rubbing at his eyes, albeit a little too harshly.

It’s really a shame that all the cute ones at this apartment complex are absolute psychos.

But he had to admit that he would pick Brian, “Do you want to come over and watch Contact with me and my cat Trixie?” McCook over the weirdo stealing his underwear.

But, back to the situation at hand.

“All I want to know is if that’s my underwear?” Justin said, gesturing to the messy pile decorating the sidewalk. “And if it is mine, why do you have it?”

The blond looked up at Justin, looking absolutely hopeless.

“Uh…I don’t know.”

Justin walked over to the undergarments in question and knelt to get a closer look. It took him less than ten seconds to know that this was his missing underwear.

He looked up at the blond who was currently running his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends like he wanted to rip them out of his scalp.

He was starting to feel rather bad for embarrassing the guy. I mean, we all have our kinks, right?

He quickly looked away from the other man. He couldn’t show sympathy for someone who was actively stealing his underwear, doing God-knows-what with it, and then throwing it away.

“Look,” Justin said pointing his finger at the other man, “I don’t care what you get off to but just don’t take my shit anymore, okay?”

The blond nodded.

The guy was pretty cute, especially looking all guilty.

He steals underwear, Justin.

Focus.

He pushed off the ground with a groan and a final mildly angry look at the thief, then stalked off towards his car. With one last look over his shoulder, he yelled

“and I want my socks back too!”

xxx

Aaron couldn’t find any damn socks.

He’d spent both of his days off cleaning his entire house and looking everywhere for them and found nothing but $3.78 in change and an old beanie that Cerrone had clearly taken his claws to.

He was already pissed that he didn’t get a chance to explain himself and now the other man was going to think he was still stealing from him. He was hoping he’d find the socks along with the answer to why he was mysteriously receiving all of his neighbor’s underwear, and maybe a couple thousand dollars.

But, no dice.

Oh well.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on his odd relationship with his neighbor, or his lack of spending money.

He was scheduled to work tonight and he really needed to make some good tips or his car was gonna have to run on imagination instead of fuel. So, as he walked into his uncle’s dusty bar and grill that evening, he tried to gather some energy. The dark blue walls of the poorly lit restaurant were slowly becoming comforting, almost homey. Waiting tables wasn’t glamorous, but it kept Cerrone’s food bowl full and Aaron’s fridge stocked with PBR.

Sparing a final grateful thought towards whoever created his drink of choice, he tied his apron and got started.

A few hours in, Aaron felt right in his element as he settled into a practiced rhythm. With the kind of grace that can only be learned over time, he juggled his tables, feeling confident in the service he was providing. He had waited tables since he was sixteen, bouncing from restaurant to restaurant learning new things every time. And now at twenty four, he felt that he could do this job in his sleep and still make more money than his co-workers.

Extra napkins for table five.

Table eight needs refills.

He was about to go get one of his tables their check when he was flagged down by a customer who wanted a drink from the bar. He quickly made his way to the bar area, grumbling under his breath. The way this restaurant handled it’s drinks for tables was inconvenient, and that’s being generous. The waiters had to go all the way to the bar and order the drinks themselves.

As he grumpily made his way to the bar for the first time that evening, he took in the unfamiliar figure of the man behind the counter, who currently had his back to Aaron. They had hired a new bartender who he had yet to meet, but word around the kitchen was that he was funny. And something else his coworkers had mentioned? Was it ambidextrous?

Whatever it was, he just hoped it helped him make good drinks.

He leaned against the bar and patted the counter yelling a quick, “Hey, can I get a Long Island for my table, please?”

Aaron felt a little rude yelling at the back of the new guy’s head, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

As he waited for the bartender to acknowledge him, he took notice of all the people sitting at the bar. Most of them looking towards the new guy with amused expressions, others closer to him were laughing. He must be as funny as everyone said.

Putting a couple of drinks in front of his small audience, he grabbed a cocktail shaker from behind the counter and turned towards Aaron with a wide smile that melted as soon as the two made eye contact.

When Aaron met his eyes he wanted to evaporate on the spot. If he had a drink, he’d have done a spit take. And if he’d had more money to his name and a more conveniently placed exit door, he would’ve booked it out of the restaurant so fast, he would’ve broken the speed limit.

It was his neighbor.

You know, the one who thinks he’s a panty thief?

The one who probably thinks that Aaron has some sort of shrine dedicated to his briefs? The brunette probably assumed that Aaron had some sort of weird underwear fetish.

Aaron had always been both gay and weird, but he’d never been an underwear thief.

At this point, he chalked most of his problems up to bad karma, or maybe he’d accidentally been rude to a witch one day and now she was ruining his life. Either way, the amount of bad luck he was experiencing was ridiculous.

Aaron’s neighbor, whose name tag read “Justin,” was staring at him in shock. The shaker in his hands had stopped moving and the brunette stood stiff as a board in front of him. The atmosphere had gone from lighthearted to tense in a matter of seconds and Aaron had no clue how to fix it.

So, he just looked back at the other man, waiting for him to to say something.

Anything.

But, the seconds passed, feeling like hours, and he knew he had to get back to his tables or his wallet would suffer. He took a quick, shaky breath and looked the other man in the eyes.

“So, uh, my name is Aaron,” He gestured to the name tag pinned onto his uniformed chest.

“It’s nice to, um, see you. So, yeah, a Long Island Ice Tea for table fifteen, please.” With that, he mustered up an unconvincing smile, turned on his heel and went back to his table. When he came back for the drink, his bartending neighbor was at the other end of the counter again with his back turned towards him. He quickly grabbed it off the counter and walked away with a sigh of relief.

Luckily, the rest of his shift was uneventful. He only had to make a couple more trips to the bar that night and all of them were less awkward than the first, and for that he was thankful.

As he rolled silverware with a couple of his co-workers later that night, he thought back on his previous encounter with Justin. Both times Aaron had been mostly silent, not even bothering to clear his name or give the other man an explanation. Everything had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that all Aaron could do was just stand there.

He didn’t want to have an awkward relationship with someone he would obviously be seeing a lot of, so it was in his best interest to try to clear things up, and maybe even be friends with Justin.

He was determined to make things right.

Or at least make himself look less creepy.

His thoughts of redemption stayed on his mind till he clocked out that night. During the drive home, he considered what he would say and even planned a couple comebacks just in case an argument broke out, but the moment he turned the street corner that led to his apartment, all he could think of was getting home.

He sighed as he pulled into the familiar parking lot of his apartment complex.

It had been a long ass day.

All he wanted was to get home, take a shower, and watch a movie on his couch with Cerrone on his lap. He turned off his car almost giddy at the thought of having a relaxing night in.

But, the possibility of that scenario fizzled out as he got out of his car and saw Justin pull into the parking lot.

He knew that he would never get another opportunity to talk to him at work. He had already spent hours thinking about what to say and there was no time like the present, right?

Aaron pushed his door open and pulled himself out of his beat up toyota. He walked closer to where Justin was parking his car, hoping to catch him as he got out.

Justin got out of his car ungracefully and slammed the door behind him. Obviously not expecting aaron to be standing a couple feet from him in the middle of a dark parking lot.

Okay, not his best idea.

“Were you waiting for me here?” Justin said with wide eyes and a shaky voice. He had a hand over his heart and was obviously trying to catch his breath.

Aaron once again realized that this probably wasn’t the best scenario to try to convince someone that you aren’t insane or trying to stalk, kidnap, or murder them.

“Uhm, no. I just saw you pull in and i’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while,” he said, nervously combing through his hair with his fingers, “ So, I thought now would be a good time.”

Justin visibly relaxed a little, but still seemed nervous.

“I already said we’re cool, dude.” Justin said, “We all have weird kinks. I just can’t afford to keep losing shit; I’m sure Brian two doors down has some great pieces for your collection, though.”

Aaron sighed nervously, “No, let me explain. I didn’t take your underwear. It just…” he started pulling at his hair again, “Kind of appeared in my living room.”

“Oh, I see. It appeared in your living room?” said Justin, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes. I don’t know how it got there.” Aaron knew it was a terrible argument from the second it left his mouth, but it was the only one he had to work with.

“Have you considered magic? Maybe David Blaine is playing a very long, overly involved magic trick on you,” Justin said, bitingly sarcastic. “And maybe I’mDavid Blaine, after all! I’m in a mask filming this whole thing just to embarrass you, right?”

Justin took a deep, exasperated breath, clearly about to continue his list of impossible scenarios, but Aaron quickly put his hands up in surrender.

“I know it doesn’t sound very-” Aaron stopped suddenly, almost positive that he heard… meowing?

“Cerrone?” he called into the darkness of the empty parking lot.

Justin was obviously confused, but also looked around trying to find whatever the blond was searching for. Suddenly Aaron’s cat sauntered out from behind Justin’s car, going straight towards his favorite person.

“What are you doing outside?” asked Aaron as he gathered the kitty in his arms, “how did you even get out?”

He rubbed his cat between the ears and Cerrone purred. They were both wrapped up in their little love fest until a cough from Justin’s direction brought Aaron back to the situation at hand.

“Oh, sorry!” he looked down at the cat in his arms, “do you maybe want to talk about this at my place? I really need to get him inside.”

While he really did need to get Cerrone back home, he was also hoping that maybe showing Justin how normal his apartment was would help strengthen his argument. And after being at work for so long his feet were fucking killing him and he really wanted to sit down.

Justin shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, obviously apprehensive.

Aaron tried to muster a friendly smile, but quickly realized it probably just came off weird, so he slowly let his lips drop into their normal position.

Justin seemed to think it over for a few more seconds. With hands still in his pockets he kicked at some nonexistent rocks at his feet before uttering a quiet, “Okay.”

Okay, this was progress.

Aaron nodded, grinning excitedly before leading the way towards his apartment. The whole walk was awkward and as he struggled to unlock his front door with one arm, as the other was holding Cerrone, he could see the hesitance on Justin’s face.

As the key turned and he pushed the door open, he only hoped for one thing

Please don’t let there be a huge pile of this guy’s underwear sitting in my living room floor.

#shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #lunaska #rpdr fanfiction #m/m au #a cat's intuition

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