#gonna go out tomorrow to drop off some cards to a few bookstores

[roadkill-dreaming]

♡

[unicyclehippo]

for a prompt like. jes goes to bed early and beau figures she’s just talking to the traveler, when she goes up she hears her talking to marion about beau and she’s just like oh. in my head it was sending but more content if they’re in nicodranas.,, idk u decide! idk how to sign this off so.,, may your microwave work for the foreseeable future :) okaybye!

they’ve been in town for a couple days and it’s great, it’s really great. nott is veth again and she’s all but disappeared with yeza and luc, spending all her time with them on the beach and in their rooms, hearing all the stories luc has about everything he has seen—twice. jester is likewise absorbed in spending time with her mum and so it’s just beau, caleb, fjord, yasha and cad. which is actually most of them but it feels odd, missing their loudest members. they spent the day—last of the three they set aside for a small vacation before orly is set to take them east to the volcano—at the beach, mostly, and then in a bookstore for a faintly smiling caleb, even though they all smell of seaweed and salt and they’re leaving sand behind them wherever they go. when he’s content and the books hidden in fjord’s bag of holding, they lose themselves in the warren of winding streets and find the diviest of bars to drink in until the whole world is warm and slightly blurred and they fling arms over shoulders and walk in a stumbling lockstep back to the chateau, not nearly drunk enough to forget the way back, not drunk at all. just—content.

jester meets them at the bottom of the steps, her hair in a new style that makes beau blink and then wink each eye in case that’ll help her focus.

‘you - changed your hair,’ she blurts.

caleb, whose shoulders her arm hangs around, staggers when she lurches forward a step.

jester lifts her hand to the short ends, runs it through the shorter curls. it’s been cut into a sweet bob, one that frames her heart-shaped face and—

‘is it bad?’ she asks, nose crinkling with worry.

beau blinks stupidly at her. ‘no,’ she says.

jester waits. then, ‘oh. okay.’

‘looks good, jessie,’ fjord calls. he looks suspiciously put together and beau wonders if it’s a paladin thing or if he’d been smart to let her win their drinking contest. she’s still thinking about it, and grinning because it had been a good, fun night, when he asks gently, ‘ready for tomorrow morning?’

‘oh. well, yes and no. i’m excited to go to traveller con of course but,’ she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. shrugs delicately. ‘i always miss my mama.’

there’s a round of nods.

beau stares at jester’s curls. her fingers burn to touch them, to feel if the curls are actually heavy or if it’s just the way they fall, if they’re as soft as they look.

‘we should—get to sleep,’ caleb says, and the words slur the slightest bit with alcohol and a weighted accent. ‘jester, the hairdresser must be a transmutation wizard. they have changed you,’ he says, and then laughs a quick laugh, which he quickly contains. but his eyes are happy and that has everyone laughing too.

‘that’s a terrible joke,’ jester tells him. ‘go to bed, all of you. and caleb—teleportation circle for tomorrow’s spells.’

‘ja, ja, i will remember.’ he taps the side of his long nose. ‘i remember.’

he and fjord and caduceus begin to climb the steps to their room. yasha makes excuses oddly fast to follow, and beau catches her eyes as she slides behind jester. yasha shoots her a look beau can’t decipher and the woman must realise that because she sighs, smiles, and continues on up the steps.

‘did you have fun tonight, beau?’

‘i missed you.’ jester eyes widen slightly. beau hurries to explain. ‘not that it’s not cool that you spent it with your mum, of course you should do that, we all know you miss her heaps which is - wow - really nice, actually? and she loves you so, duh. it’s just,’ beau shrugs, and she thinks maybe she’s a little more drunk than she originally thought because the slow clumsiness of it is catching up, makes her feel a little awkward in her own feet. ‘it’s different without you an’ nott. veth. i guess it’s not as fun for you ‘cause you don’t drink but there were card games you woulda liked. and it’s—we were just hanging out, y’know? ‘s’not the same without you. nicer when you’re there.’ she smiles then, and when jester just stares at her, she smiles wider, trying to push all the sincerity as she can into it. jester loves nicodranas and her mum, beau knows, and she’s not afraid that jester will stay behind, certainly not so close to traveller con, but beau thinks it’s not a bad time to remind jester that actually they all really, really adore her and she was missed.

the re-doubled smile must work because jester blinks a few times and then returns the smile.

‘beau,’ she says teasingly, ‘you’re so sweet when you’re drunk.’

‘i’m not that drunk.’

‘you’re pretty drunk,’ jester tells her with faux solemnity. ‘want me to take you to bed? i mean, to bed! like, to your bed to sleep.’

beau grins. ‘you’re blushing.’

jester scowls. ‘no.’

‘mhm.’ she steps closer. taps jester’s cheek. she’s gentle about it, pushes all her attention to it so she doesn’t drunkenly jab her hard. it has the effect she intended—soft, not painful—and one she didn’t, in that she feels with perfect clarity how soft jester’s cheek is, the warmth of her flush. she lets her finger drop. wavers a little where she stands only a few inches from jester. ‘um. i can make it,’ she tells jester. ‘you came down for cookies, right?’

jester frowns. ‘how did you—‘

‘not as drunk as i look,’ beau tells her cheerfully. ‘we definitely caught you out, you were trying to be sneaky ‘bout it. it’s after dinner and you’re better about sweets when you’re with your mum. an’ you were talking about ‘em this morning.’ jester stares up at her, shakes her head slowly. she looks confused, and really pretty, and beau is filled with sudden warmth at the idea of knowing someone as well as she knows jester. ‘have fun, drink some good milk. you would’ve hated the bar, the milk was bad.’

‘you had some?’

beau shrugs. ‘i ordered one for you, forgot you weren’t there. we all drank some.’ she pulls a face. then kisses jester’s cheek, presses her own flushed cheek to jester’s, who holds very still.

then, beau carries herself happily up the stairs and to jester’s room, collapsing boneless to the bed.

//

her head feels like it’s been filled with angry bees when she wakes. that might be the dream she’d had. her mouth tastes like she licked a dirty boot, too. disgusting.

if she holds herself very still, though, she can ignore all of that and maybe, maybe, fall back to sleep.

just as she thinks about it, beau knows it’s not gonna happen. her neck cricks and her bladder screams from the pressure and so with a groan she rolls to the side and carefully stands. her headache pounds a little more forcefully but it’s far from the worst she’s ever had. a little water and she’ll be grand.

speaking of water.

beau adjusts her pants back into place, wipes wet hands absently on her shirt as she leaves the washroom, steps out into the hall. it’s early still and the chateau is still. quiet. faint music and conversation lifts up to jester’s level from the one below and beau follows it like she’s caught.

by the time she has come down the stairs, she knows it’s marion’s room, and knows the voices are hers and jester’s. she thinks about turning away but the sun has started to lift and she knows jester hasn’t started to pack. how she had managed to scatter her things literally everywhere across the room beau can’t begin to understand. she’ll peek in, remind jester about it, head down for an early run on the beach maybe. and breakfast. the chateau does a damn good breakfast.

‘—don’t know what to do about it.’ jester, beau’s mind supplies. distressed.

‘what do you want to do about it?’ marion. decidedly not at all distressed. amused?

‘i don’t know,’ jester wails. ‘why can’t this be easy?’

‘the worthwhile things in life rarely are, little sapphire.’

beau grins. jester will hate being told that. her grin widens when she hears jester grumble a reluctant agreement; in her mind’s eye she can see her clearly, nose crinkled, grumpy face on, strewn over one of her mother’s fainting couches maybe.

‘can’t you just tell me what to do?’ jester wheedles. ‘you know everything!’

‘about sex, perhaps. about love? not as much as i would like.’ the room is quiet for a moment, and beau thinks her suddenly racing heart will give her away. love? they’re talking about love? ‘matters of the heart always seem simple from the outside. when you’re the one tangled in it, it seems impossible, doesn’t it?’

jester makes a pitiful sound of agreement.

beau nearly does too.

‘well, what do you think then? even if you’re on the outside?’

‘i think... that you could do far worse.’

‘mama.’

‘what do you want me to say, jester?’

‘the truth!’

‘the truth?’ marion asks in an arch tone, and oh beau is less familiar with her but jester is not so removed from her mother that she can’t imagine it. the cool look, the raised brows, the pursed lips as the expression coalesces into one simple question—are you sure?

‘please, mama.’

‘very well. i don’t think you would have come to me all in a flutter if you weren’t feeling something. and you obviously hold her in high regard, or you wouldn’t have spent all of the last two days talking about her.’

‘i didnt—not all,’ jester denies, weakly.

‘you spoke of her a lot, my darling,’ marion tells her gently. a moment passes, then, ‘i think you enjoy her attention. i think you care for her very much. and i think you know how she cares for you. didn’t you tell me you thought she was going to kiss you?’

‘you should have seen the way she smiled,’ jester whispers. ‘beau was—‘

the mention of her name breaks the spell beau was held by, frozen in place listening to the conversation play out. guilt mingles hot with hope and fear, churning in her gut, but she manages to step back softly, and again until she reaches the stairs. she takes the next flight quietly before all but sprinting down the rest, flying out the door.

a run. a run along the beach. she’ll forget all about this and when she comes back to breakfast, she’ll be ready. she won’t encroach on jester, she won’t upset her with what she had hoped had been subtle. she’ll be better about it.

the sand crunches beneath her boots, the tide washing it harder underfoot than the soft white dunes, and beau runs.

[dontshootmespence]

Its Simplicity

Summary: After a chance meeting at a bookstore, Y/N and Spencer find themselves surprised again.

Words: 1,657

Warnings: Gross fluff.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo​ 2020! This fulfills my neighbors au square.

“My legs feel like lead,” Piper mumbled, following behind you with a giant moving box in her grasp.

It had to be your fifth trip up the stairs to your new second floor apartment, but it was worth it. Until you started your new job money was tight so you weren’t about to hire movers for something you and Piper could do - slowly but surely that is.

“Why didn’t you get movers?” She bitched. Her bitchy and whiney were very similar and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Backing into the door, you pushed it open and dropped the next box onto the floor before flopping onto the one piece of furniture you’d managed to get up the steps so far - the ottoman for your reading chair. “Because it’s a lot of money. I’m not rolling in it you know.”

“But I’m in pain,” she whined. “Can we at least take a break?”

You mumbled in response, though it was practically drowned out by the raucous gargling of your stomach. “Yes, we need food. Crappy Kraft?”

Somehow you managed to move your seemingly weighed down body off the ottoman and toward the kitchen, bare now, but would hopefully resemble a 50s style diner once you were finished. Dream kitchen. You grabbed a pot out of one of the boxes in the kitchen and boiled some water before pouring in a disgusting three boxes worth of Kraft Mac and Cheese. Triple bypass in no time.

“Okay, so tell me about the boy? How come you haven’t gone on another date? I feel like a matchmaker. I need details.” Piper got hyper when she talked about your dating life.

Spencer said he’d call when he could, but right after he did, he got called away on a case for work. He’d texted sporadically, but you hadn’t heard from him in half a day or so. Apparently, the case was harder to solve than he originally thought. “There’s not much to say other than what I told you about the bookstore,” you laughed. No one in the world could replace Piper, she was your one and only bestie for all of time, but occasionally you did like keeping things to yourself. “We’ve texted a few times since but he’s busy with work so he said he’d call when he gets back.”

Heavy footsteps told you someone else was coming up the stairs and Piper had left her box of your stuff outside the door. “Sorry about the box outside. Moving in! I’ll get it out of your way!”

You ran to the door while the water came to a boil only to see a familiar face. “Spencer!”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

An almost painful smile spread across your face. “Moving in. This is my new place.” 

Piper came running to the door, all traces of exhaustion from before gone from her face. “This is Spencer? Wait, you live here too? Oh my god, how cute is this.”

“Piper, Spencer. Spencer, this is my best friend Piper.”

“So you’re the one that peer pressured her into speed dating?”

“The one and only. I’m a matchmaker.” She glanced back and saw the water boiling. “Oh, I got this. You do your thing.”

As she ran off to prepare your shitty mac and cheese, Spencer laughed. “She reminds me of my friend Penelope. Also fancies herself a matchmaker.” A light-hearted silence fell between you for a moment before he pointed to the apartment across the hall. “That’s my place.”

“This is hysterical,” you said, almost unbelievingly. “Well, it’ll be easier for us to plan dates this way.”

“Speaking of, I just got home from a case. Would you want to grab dinner tonight?”

Piper screamed a resounding yes from the kitchen, which made you go beat red. “I would’ve said yes, too,” you laughed. “You going to rest for a little while? I can only imagine the case you had if it’s been five days.”

“I desperately need some sleep. Then I’ll read a book or two.”

“Show off.”

“Sorry,” he replied, thinking he overstepped.

You shook your head. “Spencer, I was kidding. I think it’s amazing, I’m just jealous.”

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously. “I have a hard time with social cues.”

“It’s okay. They’re annoying, I know. Maybe read The Graveyard Book so you can give it to me at dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Sweet dreams, Spencer. I’m about to go eat my weight in Kraft Mac and Cheese and unpack boxes.”

He yawned and excused himself. “That sounds amazing. We should do that sometime. Eat our weight in mac and cheese.”

“It’s a date.”

                                                              ----

Later that night, after convincing Piper that she could not in fact be your third wheel, you met up with Spencer...by opening your doors. “That was easy,” you giggled. “You get a good nap?”

“I slept for four hours. It was amazing.”

He still looked a little sleepy, but much happier and more comfortable, his muscles slack and his outfit more breezy. From what you imagined, he wore suits and similar formal wear to work, but now he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a black blazer on top. God, he was cute. You wanted to kiss him. “So where do you want to eat? You know the food around here.”

“There’s a Thai place down the block that has some amazing pad thai. Especially if you like spice.”

“I love spice!” You replied, immediately excited.

Talking with Spencer was effortless. You could indulge your inner and outer nerd; just able to be completely and utterly yourself, which was rare. Normally, you had to put on some type of pretenses with everyone. 

At the restaurant, Spencer told you about the case, though not in too much detail, for both him and you. “I just don’t want to put those images in your head, you know?”

You nodded, handing the menus back to the waiter after placing your order. “I get that. Just know that going forward, as long as this goes forward, you don’t always have to shoulder the crap you deal with alone.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, placing his hand over yours.

The somber moment lingered for a few more seconds, but then he switched the subject, asking about your childhood and your relationships with your family. Given his genius, child prodigy status, you imagined his childhood was less idyllic than yours and he was living through you. Then you ordered pad thai that was just a little too hot for you and you both devolved into uncontrollable laughter as you fanned your mouth and begged the waiter for some milk to quench the Sahara desert on your tongue. “Some dessert might also help soothe the burn,” the waiter suggested.

“You had me at dessert, Sir,” you said unabashedly. “I’ll have the mango sticky rice.”

“Same for me,” Spencer replied. The waiter walked away, giggling under his breath about the woman who couldn’t tolerate spice. “You feeling better?” He asked. “I thought you said you love spice.”

“I do! I’m just not great with it.”

Thankfully, the mango sticky rice soothed the remainder of the burn in your throat and then Spencer picked up the bill. You asked to go half and half, but he insisted the first real date be on him and from here on out you could go Dutch. “Do you know where the phrase ‘going Dutch’ comes from?” He continued excitedly when you shook your head. “The origin of the phrase ‘to go Dutch’ is traced back to the 17th century when England and the Netherlands fought constantly over trade routes and political boundaries. The British use of the term ‘Dutch’ had a negative connotation for because the Netherlanders were said to be stingy.”

“That’s actually really interesting. You know I actually thought about going into linguistics at one point, but I loved reading as a whole too much to focus on words rather than stories as a whole.”

Spencer’s credit card was returned and you got up to leave, your fingers slipping back into his own. “I actually work with a linguist right now named Alex Blake. I think you two would get along.”

“She’s a Ph.D. too? Oh my god, please introduce me sometime. I’d love to nerd out with her.” The walk back to the apartment complex was easy and transportive, your conversation bringing you back to childhood - in its simplicity. 

You’d been up and down the stairs a million times today, so the walk up hurt you more than it did him. “My body is going to ache in the morning,” you laughed, leaning up against him outside your door. You didn’t even realize you were doing it until you pulled away. 

When you met his gaze again, you saw something different than before. “You’re gonna kiss me, aren’t you?”

Spencer smiled and leaned forward, angling your mouth toward his. Your lips touched tentatively before you moved in closer, placing your hand on the side of his neck. He pulled away, his mouth tightening into that kind of smile where you’re trying not to grin like an idiot and failing. 

“You have nice lips. Do that again.”

Some time passed, how much you weren’t sure, but you only stopped when you heard other footsteps coming your way. “So, you think you might want another date?” He asked, his voice soft and dreamy. 

“Definitely. Do you have work tomorrow?”

“As of right now, no.”

“Wanna come over tomorrow morning and do breakfast? I have to unpack a lot still, but I make killer blueberry pancakes.”

“Looking forward to it. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, swallowing hard as he pulled away to return to his own apartment. “I’ll text you if anything changes with work.”

You nodded and grabbed your keys, hearing the jingle of Spencer’s own as you both opened your doors, glancing back toward each other with simultaneous smiles.

[petrichoravellichor]

Just Like That

(Read on Ao3)

Ship: Patience/Claire Rating: G Tags: Alternate Universe, Bookstores, POV Patience, Pre-relationship, Getting Together, Fluff, Patience has a crush on Claire Summary: Yes, Patience has a crush on Claire, and no, she’s not gonna do anything about it. Claire, meanwhile, has other plans…

Word Count: 939

Created for the fabulous @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover and her upcoming Representation Week: have some femslash! 😄 I’m also using this to fill the Claire/Patience square on my card for @spnrareshipbingo and the bookstore AU square on my card for @spnfluffbingo.

*****

“You know, honey, you could just go over there and talk to her.”

Patience started, swearing softly and just managing to keep from knocking over the shoulder-height bookshelf she was stocking. She looked over the top toward the front counter, where her grandmother, Missouri, had paused filling out order forms and was watching her with a knowing smirk. Patience felt her face grow warm, and she dropped her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” came her grandmother’s coy response. “So you mean to tell me you haven’t been sneaking peeks at that pretty blonde-haired girl that works in the bakery across the street ever since she started there over a month ago, and that you weren’t looking at her just now?”

Yep, thought Patience with an inward groan, busted. She sighed and crossed her arms. “Her name is Claire,” she admitted. “We have a few classes together. It’s no big deal.”

“I didn’t say it was,” said Missouri. “I said you should go talk to her.”

“Nope, you said I could go talk to her,” said Patience matter-of-factly, stooping to grab another book from the box. “And I’m not gonna.”

It was true, thought Patience as she heard Missouri huff and walk off in the direction of the backroom, she wasn’t gonna. She’d been not gonna-ing all semester, and it had been working out just fine; in fact, not gonna-ing had proven her most effective strategy so far at not making a fool out of herself in front of others, specifically one Claire Novak, self-assured and gorgeously badass in a way that Patience found as captivating as she did intimidating. Which was why not gonna-ing was clearly her best option. Innovative, fantastic, ten out of ten would recommend to a friend. Not that she had many friends, but whatever. If she did, she’d recommend it to them, simple as that.

The shop bell chimed just as Patience was setting the last book into place, and she called toward the entering footsteps without looking over. “Hi, welcome to Read Between the Lines, I’ll be right—” she turned and nearly choked on her own breath, “right…with you…”

Claire Novak was standing in front of her. She’d ditched the green apron Patience had seen her in through the window a few minutes ago and was wearing a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, thumbs hooked loosely in the belt loops of her black jeans as regarded Patience with an easy smile.

“Hey,” said Claire, raising her chin greeting.

Help, Patience prayed, to any higher power that might have been listening. She swallowed and schooled her features into what she hoped was a relaxed, friendly, totally-not-freaking-out expression. “Hi.”

“I’ve seen you around at school,” said Claire, gaze dropping briefly to Patience’s mouth before flickering back to her eyes, and her smile widened. “Patience, right?”

“Uh,” said Patience, because what the heck else was she supposed to do? Seriously, God, or Whoever? I could really, really use some help right about now… “I mean, yeah, yeah, that’s right. You’re in my—um, I mean, we’re in the same Econ and American Lit classes. You’re Claire. Right?” she added hastily, lest she seem like some sort of stalker freak. She was absolutely not a stalker freak, oh God, please don’t let her think I’m a stalker freak…

“Yep, that’s me,” said Claire, and she was still smiling, so whatever deity Patience had prayed to must have been in a sympathetic mood. “Hey, listen, I know this is totally random, but do you maybe wanna grab dinner sometime? Tonight, even. It’s just,” Claire rolled her eyes and hooked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the front window, “my boss told me that if I didn’t come over and ask you out already, he’d send over a cake with my phone number on it.”

What. Patience shifted to look out the window and recognized Gabriel, the bakery owner from across the street, watching intently from inside his own shop; when he saw Patience, he grinned broadly and gave her a double thumbs up. “Wow. That’s…wow.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dick like that,” said Claire, but she didn’t sound like she held it too much against him. “So, what do you say? Wanna go out, or do you at least want a free cake? ’Cause I’m pretty sure he already made it.”

Patience couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Well, I do like cake,” she said, feeling her own lips twitch into a smile that mirrored the one on Claire’s face, “but I’m also off tomorrow, so…”

“So,” echoed Claire, taking a step closer, “it’s a date?”

Oh, it’s a goddamn miracle, thought Patience. She felt giddy, lighter than she’d been in ages. Suck it, not gonna-ing: your services are no longer required. “Yeah. It’s a date.”

“Cool,” said Claire, grinning as she pulled out her phone so that she and Patience could exchange numbers; when she left a minute later with a wink and a “See ya”, Patience barely managed to wait for the door to close before letting out a squeal and twirling around in happiness…

…only to see her very self-satisfied grandmother smirking at her from the doorway to the backroom. “So,” said Missouri, strolling over to stand at Patience’s side, “a date, huh? Well, isn’t that nice.”

“Grandma,” groaned Patience, hands coming up to cover her face, “please, please don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you told me so.”

“Oh, honey,” said Missouri, patting Patience fondly on the shoulder, then breezing past her toward the register. “I don’t have to.”

[captainmarvels]

where I lay down

Summary: Steve has one year left to get you to talk to him, and he doesn’t realize how much he loves the game until you let him win.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Steve Appreciation Week Day 7 Prompt: Song lyrics - “Living love in slow motion” - 18 by One Direction

Word Count: 2032

A/N: My final entry for Steve Appreciation Week! I loved writing for one of my favorite characters, and thank you to everyone who read my pieces! Hope y’all enjoy this last one x

It was the first day of senior year, and the last thing on Steve’s mind was love.

This year was his last at Hawkins before moving on to bigger and brighter things - hopefully outside of Indiana - and he wasn’t going to let anything distract him from the ultimate dream: graduation.

Glancing down at the note in his hand, he made his way to his first class of the day - English Lit. 

Name tags were on each desk, and Steve wandered around the room trying to find his. Finally finding it on a desk in the back, close to the windows, he dropped his books on top of the laminate and sat down.

Glancing to his right, he saw a familiar face sitting next to him.

“Funny finding you here,” He whispered, his eyes concentrating on the writing across the chalkboard.

You snorted, saying nothing. 

“We’re doing this again?” He looked over at you, grinning cheekily as you kept looking straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. 

Ever since freshman year, you and Steve shared one class together, without fail. And somehow, you always ended up sitting next to each other, at one point or another. 

Every single time, Steve would try to provoke a response out of you, but you refused to give in. 

You knew “King” Steve, and you weren’t really up for his distracting antics during class. Thus, you never responded to his questions or whispered commentary during class discussions. 

Steve had made it a goal of his to get you to answer him at least once before graduation, and he was reminded of that as he settled back into his seat as the final bell rang.

Game on.

Just before the bell was supposed to ring, Steve slipped you a note, his gaze concentrated on the teacher’s lecture. Eyebrows raised in confusion, you flipped the scrap piece of paper open, keeping a straight face as you read his chicken scratch handwriting.

Shall we make a bet out of this ‘not answering me’ charade of yours? 

If I get so much as a LAUGH out of you, you have to come to one of my house parties. I need you to have a life out of school, dude. Deal?

As the bell started to ring, you scrawled your answer on the back of the paper, tossing it on Steve’s desk without a second glance. 

He picked it up and read your reply, a wide smile dawning on his lips as he made his way out of the room, tucking the piece of paper in his pocket.

Game on, Harrington.

Steve made sure to get to class ten minutes before the bell, giving himself an ample amount of time to try and get a reaction out of you before class began.

And every day, without fail, you managed to keep a straight face and wired shut lips, your eyes not even sneaking a glance at the ever-frustrated Steve falling back in his seat in defeat. 

“How long can you keep this up?” He whispered to you, his eyes watching the teacher as they paced back and forth in the front of the room. He glanced over, and saw you were diligently doing your work, your eyes following the glide of your hand across the paper.

Shaking his head, he turned back to his own worksheet, an unstoppable smile spreading across his lips as he got to writing.

It was February now, and Steve still had no luck when it came to you. 

Friday was Valentine’s Day, and that’s when an idea struck Steve.

Valentines.

Enlisting Dustin’s help, the two of them spent the whole night bringing Steve’s idea to life. All that was left was making sure it got you to laugh.

The clock struck 7:45, and the first warning bell rang out in the halls. Making his way to the classroom, Steve pulled out the green envelope that had your name written across it.

Setting it on your desk, he dropped his books on his desk and headed out to the bathroom. 

You walked in, handing in your homework to your teacher before moving on to your desk. Noticing the green envelope from afar, you glanced around the room, looking to see where Steve was.

Not here. Weird.

Placing your books on the desk, you pulled out the card nestled inside the envelope. You glanced up to see if Steve had walked in, but still, nothing.

On the front of the card was a pink dinosaur, smiling while surrounded by a bunch of doodled hearts. Opening it up, you found another version of the dinosaur holding a sign. It read “I’m en-Raptored by you!”. 

You bit your tongue back as you smiled at the Valentine’s card, shaking your head as you slipped it back inside the envelope.

Right then, Steve walked back into the room, and spotted the green stationary in your hand. He dashed across the room, almost tripping over his own two feet trying to get to his desk. 

You looked over at him, smiling dissipating as he met your gaze.

“Please tell me you didn’t open it yet,” he said, eyes wide as he waited for you to answer.

You said nothing as you merely opened up one of your books, and slipped the envelope in.

“Seriously? Nothing?” He groaned in frustration, the ringing bell drowning out his anguish as you turned back to face the board, trying your best to fight back the smile threatening to take over.

So close.

Graduation was only a couple weeks away, and Steve was getting nowhere with you.

Every day, he showed up to class with a few jokes up his sleeve, and yet, nothing. 

At one point he questioned if you had a heart and a soul, which still earned him no response.

As he grew more and more desperate, you began to wonder if it was time to end his torment.

After all, it had been four years. Graduation was only weeks away, and you figured maybe it was time to make good use of Steve’s bet.

Another Friday morning, and Steve was about thirty seconds away from giving up.

But just one more time. It’s all or nothing, Steve thought to himself as he saw you walk in. Sitting up straighter in his seat, he ran a hand through his hair, focusing his gaze on the chalkboard as you took your seat next to him.

“Never seen you come in so close to the bell - you pick up some new friends at the bookstore last night?”

“No, but I’m sure you could do with some.” As Steve’s jaw dropped at hearing you fire back at him, you didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your facial expressions as he laughed, shaking his head.

“I thought I’d be dead before I heard you talk to me!” 

“When’s the party, Harrington? I need to get this over with,” You were focused on your planner, but you could feel Steve staring at you.

“You being serious? You’ll actually do it?”

You glanced over at him and nodded, smiling as you heard him congratulate himself on succeeding. 

“My place, 9:30pm, tomorrow night. Solid?” 

“Yeah.”

The last thing on Steve’s mind as graduation loomed overhead was love.

And yet here he was, anxiously waiting on the edge of his seat for you to show up at the party.

The music was blaring, people were drinking, and all he could think about was how elated he was that he’d finally gotten something out of you. A smile and a sarcastic remark, all in one.

How lucky was he.

After all this time, and he’d finally won. Steve was still a little hazy as to why this made him feel so… content, but he pushed away the thought as he downed the last of his drink.

As he set down his cup, he heard the doorbell ring. 

Everything around him seemed to freeze in motion as he made his way to the door, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

On the other side of the door, he found you with a twelve pack of beer in one hand, a bag of chips in the other, and a flower tucked behind your ear.

“I come bearing gifts for King Steve,” You said loudly, gently shoving the twelve pack into Steve’s grasp as you walked into the foyer. 

“You know me so well!” He said, rushing to catch up to you as you threaded your way through the loud crowd of drunken classmates.

Propping yourself up on the kitchen island, you watched as Steve put away the beer in a cooler, his cheeks flushed red from the rising temperature of the growing crowd.

“C’mere,” He shouted over the loud music, taking your hand in his.

You didn’t protest, following him up the stairs, his grip tight as he tried not to lose you.

He pulled you into his bedroom, and for a moment, you almost started to panic.

“Harrington, what’re we doing-” 

“Here,” He pointed to the window opposite you. “Figured if we were finally gonna talk, we might as well do it where we can hear each other,”

Steve opened the window and stuck his leg out, gathering balance before sticking his hand out to you. 

“You scared of sitting on the roof or what?” You shook your head now, and took his hand.

Leaning right up against the ledge of his window, you finally sat down next to Steve, and handed him the bag of chips you had been holding this whole time.

“Is this my prize for winning the bet?” He asked, grinning when you rolled your eyes.

“Your prize for winning was me coming to this party, Harrington. The chips are my way of coping with the fact that I’m actually here now,” 

As the two of you each took a handful out of the bag and looked up at the starry night sky, your mind couldn’t help but wonder why Steve was so adamant about talking to you.

After all, it wasn’t like you’d ever said or done anything that could’ve piqued his interest.

Dropping the last chip in his mouth, Steve dusted off his hands on the sides of his jeans.

“You wanna know something?” he asked, his eyes still star gazing. 

“Sure,” You replied, poking a finger at the remaining chips in your palm.

“I can’t believe it took me almost seven months to get a smile out of you,” he chuckled softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he dropped his gaze from the sky. “I don’t even know why I cared so much,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. 

“Because you just had to win, Steve,” You mumbled, laughing gently as you hugged your knees to your chest, resting your head on top. 

“It’s… it can’t be just that though, can it?” Steve sighed, brushing back a stray piece of hair off his cheek. 

“Well, what else could it be?”

You looked over at him, and he looked at you, and for a brief moment, everything around you; the sounds of drunk teenagers, insects, and blaring music ceased to exist as you looked at one another. 

As if you were mesmerized by each other. 

Without hesitation, you both leaned in, your eyes still focused on one another’s; Steve’s breath mixing with yours as your foreheads met, barely touching. 

“Living love in slow motion, are we?” You whispered breathlessly, your lips brushing against Steve’s as he laughed.

“Let me kiss you already,” He retorted, not letting you answer him as he finally pressed his lips against yours, his hands suddenly pressed to your cheeks, your hand resting on his chest.

You break away first, cheeks flushed with heat as you tried to catch your breath.

“By the way… you won in February. I… I just didn’t say anything because I thought you’d get bored of me,” You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze from Steve’s as he just tilted his head.

“I could never get bored of you, sweetheart,” He said, cupping your cheek gingerly as he leaned in and gave you another kiss. “After all, the night is still wide open.”

can’t tag everyone as i’m in a rush but here’s a few: 

@jurassicbarnes @mercedesbarnes @thorsxodinson @messybitchjuice @bittergoldilocks @ahoyfandoms @spidey-pal @harringtonsbaseballbat @schwankyblock @okaybutsteveharrington @nancethebadass @madeinthemidnightmemories @sadhwstudent @fragcc @bifrostythor 

[this-is-rina]

Just “Networking”|| Noah Centineo Imagine

Hi everyone!  It’s been a very long time since I wrote on Tumblr and my first time writing on this blog. The last time I wrote on a personal blog was for One Direction when I was in high school (Ack!).  I did not like posting my writing to my personal and made many blogs for my writing (I wonder how many of you will recognize my style :O)  I vowed I would never write on a personal blog again...then I saw a few interviews with Noah Centineo. He has such an interesting personality for an actor and I was inspired to write a story about him. 

It’s gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a read more for all my fellow silent scrollers.  However, I’ll leave the synopsis up top so you know if you’re interested!

~Rina xoxo

Plot:  You are an aspiring screenwriter who currently manages a computer repair store in Hollywood with your stepbrother, Xavier, an aspiring composer.  By chance, you meet Noah Centineo in a coffee shop.  Not recognizing him at first, you think nothing about your acquaintance, until Xavier realizes that Noah could be both of your tickets to fame. Suddenly, your writing has a real chance, and that appeals to you, just a much as getting an adorable and kind boyfriend in Noah. However, you highly doubts Noah would agree.  But, what if he doesn’t know? 

You were running late...which was kind of the usual lately.  Ever since you moved out of your brother’s apartment, you had yet to come to work on time.  Xavier, who was technically your stepbrother, but you only made the distinction when you did not want to be associated with him, used it as proof that you couldn’t take care of yourself. However, you both knew that you were one of the most responsible people either of you knew, as long as you followed the schedule you programmed in your phone.

You dashed through the double doors of the computer repair shop, panting.  Xavier shook his head with a “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” as he watched you stash your stuff in the back and run behind the counter.

“You know you’re late, right?” Xavier emphasized. “So, you know what that means...”

“Oh come on!” You complained, smoothing your hair to make it more into your usual style.  “You totally came in early because you know I’m still getting used to the commute.”

“And?” Xavier questioned, “A deal is a deal, kiddo. The last person in buys everyone coffee.”

“Ugh, you only came up with that rule to spite me for moving out.” You complained.  “We should not even be wasting money on coffee when we could just make it at home.”

“Don’t forget my whip,” Xavier said as he tended to a fried PC.  That was your signal that the conversation was over.

“That’s not healthy...” You muttered as you went into the back room to fish out your wallet.  “What would your mother say?”

“That you should be on time to work!” He retorted and you rolled your eyes as you walked to the coffee shop across the street.

You and Xavier were pretty close, when you weren’t fighting over lateness.  Your dad married his mom when you were both around 13 years of age.  Both of you lost a parent young, and were only children until meeting each other. Your Brady Bunch family came together well, and you two grew closely together.  

Xavier was the first to decide he wanted to do showbiz.  He would practice piano and guitar daily, writing new tunes for his performance at the local bookstore talent show ever week.  You were more quiet about your aspirations as a writer, but he broke you out of your shell after college.  While you both studied computer science, you both also also concentrated in your passions, English Language and Music respectively.  You both moved to LA and through a series of lucky breaks and connections were able to manage a computer repair shop.  You hoped that by being in Hollywood you could hone your craft and make your dreams come true.

For now, you settled for fixing broken computers and fetching your brother’s coffee. At least you could buy a chai for yourself to relax too.

When you got to the coffee shop, it was clear that you missed the early morning rush.  You walked straight to the menu next to a guy who was several heads taller than you.  He had long, unruly brown hair, a scruffy beard and wore the baggiest t-shirt with the tightest jeans.  He glanced at you, feeling your presence and he gave you a gorgeous smile.  You gave him a coy smile back, trying not to fall for his chocolate-y brown orbs.  You cleared your throat and looked at the menu.

There was someone ahead of him who was taking awhile to order, and you could see him stealing glances at you from the corner of your eye.  You were definitely flattered.  This guy was pretty cute.  With his tan skin and athletic frame, he looked like that lovable sweetheart who would skate to your house just because he was in the neighborhood.  Whenever you would look in his direction, he always pretended to look away.  However, he would do it in an obvious manner.  He would look you directly in your eyes and then look at the ceiling, and then back to your eyes and then down at the floor. Back and forth his eyes and neck would move in this circular motion until he got a laugh out of you.

“Finally!” He cheered as you laughed, causing you to laugh more.  “I really wanted to make you laugh.  Have a great day, beautiful.” He flashed you a bright smile and then stepped up to make his order.

You couldn’t help, but blush.  It was always nice to be acknowledged by a cute guy.  You wished he stayed longer to make a move.  He finished his order and didn’t look back as he picked up his coffee from the counter.  You were bummed he did not have to wait for his drink, as you hoped you could chat some more, but settled for your bit of luck that he even noticed you.

“Hi,” You said with a smile to the cashier.  “Can I get a small chai and a medium iced mocha latte with extra whip and caramel drizzle?”

The cashier smiled.  “Is this for Xavier?” It was embarrassing how much your brother frequented this place.

You laughed, “Yup. I was late again!”  You snapped your fingers and wagged your fist, pretending to be upset.  You handed the cashier your card and he shook his head.

“That guy ahead of you paid for your order.  He had me write down his name and telephone number for you to reach out.” The cashier pulled out a slip of paper and your jaw dropped.

Noah

213-xxx-xxxx

“Wow, okay.” You weren’t sure what to say. This only happened in movies.  You made a mental note to add this to your list of romantic gestures for your next romcom screenplay.  You slipped the note into your wallet and closed it to put it back in your bag. You took the drinks and sauntered happily back to the repair shop.

Xavier was running a scan on another computer when you walked in.  You handed him his drink as you sipped yours happily.  He narrowed his eyes at you,

“Why are you humming?” He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t spit in this, right?’

“Gosh!” You huffed.  “Can’t a girl be happy and not be judged?”

“Any other girl, of course. You, no way!” Xavier laughed, “You’re always in a crappy mood when you lose bets.  Why is today any different?”

“A really cute guy bought our drinks!” You cooed.  “And he left his phone number.”

“Oh my god!” Xavier imitated your high pitch voice. Then his voice dropped back to a disinterested tone as he added, “Well that’s great, I hope he can pay for both of our rent too.”

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?” You sighed.  “I’m going to text him.”

Xavier shrugged as he focused on removing the hard drive of the computer. “Do what you want...”

You pondered what to text him and then smiled to yourself as you wrote your message.

Y/N: Hey, this is Y/N from the coffee shop.  Thanks for the free drinks! I hope to repay the favor some time soon.

It wasn’t much longer before you received a reply.

Noah: Hey, Y/N! Gorgeous name, by the way ;) Absolutely! How about tomorrow afternoon, let’s get a coffee after work?

Y/N: Works for me! 

You continued to text lightly throughout the day.  It was clear that you both had busy schedules, but you would try to continue the conversation as much as you could during breaks.  You were pleased to see how friendly and genuine he seemed.  You were impressed by his passion for acting, and relayed your love of writing.  He was supportive and encouraged you to try to get published.  You were too shy to admit that was the goal, and instead insisted that he was being too kind.

“Have you been texting that guy all day?” Xavier asked as he closed up shop.

“Yeah,” You said absentmindedly as you read the article Noah just sent you. 

“Well, make sure he’s not a serial killer.” He warned.  “Have you googled the guy?”

“I will when I go home, just chill, okay?” You shrugged it off, but you were moderately concerned.  This guy was kind, charming and a great listener. He was either perfect for you or an ax murderer...hopefully not both.

The next day, you met Noah for coffee dressed in your favorite outfit.  You waved at him as he walked in and he gave you the widest grin.  You had been texting all night and up until this morning, so when he pulled you into an embrace, it felt natural.

“Get whatever you like!” You offered.

“I’ll probably just get my usual coffee and maybe some sweets to share?” Noah smiled, “Since I only paid for drinks, I’ll contribute to the sweets as well.”

“No!” You insisted.  “My brother’s drink was also covered, so I think it is only fair.”

You argued about it for awhile until it was decided that he would buy one sweet and you would buy another and the two drinks. You tried to ignore the fact that the one sweet he bought was the same price as the two drinks combined.

“So, this is going to be really dumb...” You warned, “But I never did get your last name...”

“Oh,” Noah chuckled.  “It’s Centineo. Yours?”

“Y/L/N...” You responded as you sent the text to your brother.  Just in case he was going to kill you, you wanted Xavier to trace it back.  You were pretty sure you spelled his name wrong, but you hoped it would be enough.  You put your phone in your bag and then gave him a smile.

“Now that we have been formally introduced, let’s eat!” You said, picking up a fork and digging into the mini-cheesecake first.

You two exchanged ideas on your favorite books, popular films, and making it in Hollywood.  You were surprised at how much Noah knew about showbiz.  He said he was on a few tv shows and in a couple movies, but you did not expect him to be so wise.  It made you a bit self conscious.  You had just been working on scripts in your downtime.  Maybe you should get training by going to workshops...

“Oh man, you seem sad.” Noah pouted.  “What did I say?”

“Ah, no.” You shook your head.  “It’s not you! I just feel a little overwhelmed, maybe? You just seem so together. I’m just starting out.”

“I mean, I’m only 22.” Noah laughed.  “I’m still learning too.”

You grunted as you sipped your chai.  He was a bit younger than you. It was less than a year, but still, you felt envious.

“However...” Noah bit his lip.  “...you’re quite a distraction for me.  I realize that if I don’t get my daily dose of Y/N, I may lose track of my goals permanently.”

You coughed to hide your snort of laughter.  “Is this your way of saying you want to hang out more?”

“Absolutely.” Noah grinned at you and you returned it.  “I’m going to this pool party on Saturday.  Would you like to come? You can bring your brother and a few friends...”

“Sure,” You nodded.  “There’s a few dudes and dudettes that work part-time at the shop.  If it’s after hours, I can bring them too.”

“Yeah, it starts at like 8pm and goes to like 5 in the morning.  It’s supposed to be a dance party slash pool party slash cocktail extravaganza.” Noah laughed.  “Plus, I heard a few really cool people might be there like the cast of my last film.  It would be great to introduce you.”

“Are you sure you want a girl like me on your arm?” You teased.  

“I wouldn’t want anyone else...” Noah leaned over, lifted your hand and kissed it.

You could feel yourself swooning and knew in an instant that he were falling for him.

When you returned to the store, you were greeted by a very excited Xavier. He was almost ready to jump up and down when you entered the store.  You made a weird face as you waited for him to explain.

“That Noah guy recently got mega famous.  He was cast in two Netflix films and is basically the white hottie of Instagram.”

“Oh wow,” You nodded to yourself. “No wonder he’s so knowledgeable.”

“Y/N, don’t you know what this means?” Xavier looked like he wanted to scream.  “If you get with this guy, we’ll be in the in-crowd! This will be our big break.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” You said quickly.  “That sounds like I’m using him.  Xav, he’s a great guy. I really like him.”

“Do you not want to be published? Recognized? Rewarded? Think about the looks on our parents faces when they see that sending us to Hollywood was not for naught.” Xavier used hand gestures to show the grandiosity of his ideas.

You made a deep sigh.  “Of course, I do! I just...I really like him.”

“Even better,” Xavier said with a smile as he put his arm around you.  “Then you’re just networking...that’s all.”

“Networking...not using...is that what you’re saying?” You repeated it to yourself. “I guess...”

“That’s my girl!” Xavier snapped his fingers happily.  “Now, when do we meet him...”

You hesitated to tell him about the party on Saturday.  However, the more you thought about it, the less worried you felt.  You did have feelings for Noah, it did not hurt to take advantage of his connections.

Noah met you, Xavier and one of your other co-workers, Andrea, outside. He was in baggy swim trunks that were low enough to show his chiseled hips and impressive core.  You tried not to drool, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed by your monokini under your see-through cover up.  Noah greeted you warmly, putting an arm around you.

“Hello kiss?” He asked sweetly, making you smile.

You extended your cheek in response and he gave you a light peck.  Then he turned to your group as you introduced them.  You walked into the party, and started to see the familiar faces of the cast of To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. After Xavier told you Noah was famous, you decided to look him up, and the guest list of the party was like all of the related actors on Noah’s Google Search.

He introduced you to Lana and her boyfriend first and you were in awe of her beauty.  She was so down-to-earth, but she also had this respectable air about her.  You pointed out your brother and Andrea for her to meet as Noah pulled you to meet the rest of his friends and co-workers.

At one point, Noah pulls you to the bar and offers to get you a drink.  You pick something light, deciding not to get sloppy drunk in front of the guy you liked. He got a beer and you both turned to watch the party.  You were a bit away from the speakers which allowed you to talk a bit more. 

Suddenly, Noah pulls out his phone and reads a text message that makes his brows furrow.  He excuses himself and runs over to Lana.  She clearly looked upset and was gesturing towards you and also towards Xavier and Andrea.

Oh no... You thought as you pulled out your phone and texted Xavier.

Y/N: Tell me you didn’t do something stupid!!!!!

Xavier:  Nope! I was just talking to Lana about my music....

Y/N: She looks pissed.  You didn’t ask her for anything, right?

Xavier: Oh man...I had a few shots and I think I might have mentioned how glad I was that you’re dating up by dating Noah...

Y/N: WHAT?!

Before you could chastise Xavier further, Noah and Lana walked up to you.  

Lana spoke first.

“Can I just say I’m really disappointed?  You seem like such a nice girl, but clearly if you and your brother and his friend are here to use Noah, you are not as nice as you seem...” Lana’s lips were tight with anger.

“Stepbrother...” You said sheepishly.  “Look, I’m not proud of what Xavier said, but he means well.”

“Does he?” Lana asked. “Does he know what it’s like to grind and hope and work and pray for an opportunity only to have people try to attain the same success on your coat tails? It’s one thing to come to a function like this for that, but to toy with Noah’s heart...that is unforgivable.”

“Lana, you have every right to be upset. I’m sorry.” You looked at Noah who was looking at you sadly this whole time. “Noah, can we talk, please?”

He nodded and you apologized to Lana again before he pulled you inside of the house that was hosting the party.  He pulled you into a small bedroom after a few failed attempts at finding your own space. Clearly, the house was meant for hooking up not break-up-before-you-even-started-chats. At this point, you were crying and once you were inside the room, you struggled to compose yourself

“Noah...” You exhaled a shaky breath.  “I swear, when I contacted you I had no idea who you were.  When we talked all this week, through text and on the phone and on our dates, I was not trying to use you.  Even after I knew you were famous, I was convinced that if I really liked you, then it wouldn’t be a problem if Xavier and I tried to network.  Although it was Xavier who planted the idea in my head I need to own up to it and--”

Noah lurched forward and hugged you tightly.  You were so shocked and overwhelmed that you began to weep. He rubbed your back as you let it out before he stepped back.

“I know.” Noah nodded.  “Lana means well.  She knows how much I like you and really doesn’t want me to get hurt.  At the same time, she knows that I’m not an idiot.  If I tell her that I trust you, then she will trust you too.”

“You believe me?” You asked with a sniffle.

“Of course, Y/N.  Look, I can tell that you’re into me.  I’m into you too and I want us to continue to date.” Noah smiled, “And for the record, I am happy to support your and your brother’s dreams.  Just be honest with me! I’ll read your scripts, and if I think they are good, which I am sure they are, I’ll connect you with some people who maybe interested. Hell, I might even audition for a role or two if you’ll have me...”

“I’d love that!” You said excitedly.  “But even if you don’t do that...I want to work hard in my own right to earn being by your side.”

“You are already too good to stand by my side.” Noah grinned.  “Let’s grow together, okay?”

“Okay...” You leaned in and looked at him with sultry eyes.  “So, uh, since we’re in this private room...”

“Yeah?” Noah asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

“Well, I guess that was technically our first fight so we need to make up, right?” You suggested.

“I like where this is going.” Noah smirked.

“Then kiss me.” You said as your lips were almost at his lips.  

And he did.  He lifted you in his arms and kissed you like his life depended on it. You would reprimand Xavier and make it up to Lana later...right now, all you could think about was Noah and his soft kisses.

Fin

[the-resurrection-3d]

Somehow wrote 1.1k of a scene for the deer fic? Alright. Brief Paultryck, brief minor character death. Will probably have a version with citations up on dreamwidth soon because it’s almost 5 am and this is what happens when I’m left to my own devices. 

Shakespeare was wrong; most of us are not players. To say that the average man is a player in the course of his own life is at best misleading and at worse tragically comedic. Orwell summarized it best; the truest impulse for the average man is that towards being consumed. Stepping onto the whale's tongue and lying down in its stomach, the final irresponsibility short of death.

Yet I am here. 

Don't mistake me, I have no pretenses that this new 'Red Army' is going to accomplish much of anything, much less anything important, but you also must understand a whale has poor TV reception and few bookstores, even fewer sharp edges with which to drive into one's eye, solid walls against which to smash one's occiput. What else am I supposed to do for fun?

A large man with thick caterpillar brows asks for my name.

Yves, I say. Our name-tags are fill in, and all I have put is my old cat's name in my inherited doctor's script, which thus far not one person has managed to read. His says "Paul," upside down.

We are pretending to mop up a hallway while we smoke, he lolled against the door frame going out into the camp's shipping bay, door propped open against his broad shoulder. Cigarettes are rare and subject to raids during piss-breaks, so we have decided to share one, one toke at a time. That was another thing Orwell prepared me for, excited me with - the breakdown of normal codes of conduct.

I am still a bit caught, though; every emotion is still a little bit disgusting. Such as the way the setting sun paints itself across his arm, up his neck and unshaven jaw.

Paul who is my superior. Paul who is so my type it's pathetic.

He passes me the cigarette, his glove without fingers, leather black and well-worn. He doesn't look he's shaved anywhere but his face since his voice first cracked.

Funny name, he says. I swear I've heard that name before. He snaps his fingers. Isn't that a --

A french designer, Yves Saint-Laurent, I say. And the name of the Pardoner in Patience Agbabi's rendition, from a crooked churchman to a self-help profiteer, You want to know the consequences of sinning? Don't ask a saint, O ladies, ask a sinner.

Getting stabbed and left comatose for ten years, watched over by the corpses of the men I'd meant to poison. Shakespeare would approve.

Paul smiles, but then seems to catch himself, and looks down, taking a long drag. A cool wind is blowing in; I can smell the snow in the air. There's still blood on the floor from a fight Yanov had picked earlier: nosebleeds, a few lost teeth. I'd had to press the cloth to the new recruit's face and listen to him blubber about his innocence, his poverty, his sick mother. A caretaker's white noise machine.

Paul is wearing a fur-lined bomber jacket over his red sweater, one hand in his pocket, the other idly twirling the cigarette. I re-envision the way he'd gotten dressed this morning, out of the very corner of my eye: sitting on his stiff pallet against the wall in only his boxers, back turned so we could all see the way his muscles tense as he put on his black muscle shirt. Exercise first thing after breakfast.

He catches my eyes and I step out, sitting down on the first stone step. A lovely horizon of barbed wire fences and shipping crates. Beyond the first fence, where the other men usually play cards under the mid-day sun, Red Leader has had a dissenter hung. I can't see from here, but I wonder if his blood has already settled, lips blue while his feet are swollen purple. Overnight he may freeze so thoroughly you could cut off a limb without losing a single drop.

A doe has found the corpse, lying in a patch of dead grass amongst the concrete as her infant licks at his pale fingertips.

Hey! Paul calls in Dutch. Get away from there! He bangs his fist on the door so loudly they scatter. Go on, get!  

Better in them than strung up there, I say. Besides, they'll simply come back when Red throws him into the ravine tomorrow.

A noise of discomfort. Maybe so, Paul says, slipping back into English. But that doesn't mean it's gotta be in front of me. Are you sure you're not cold?

I am only wearing the sweater and my fingers are soon to be throbbing with pain. I say, No.

Something hits my back, making my heart leap into my throat with an embarrassing noise. Paul laughs heartily. I twist to grab his jacket, turning my eyes back up to him - the cigarette dangles off the corner of his smile. He's rolling up his sleeves, gesturing for me to put it on. I drape it over my shoulders, allowing it to hang loose and open on me like a blanket instead.

Thank you, I say, voice quiet of its own accord. Turn my gaze back to the hanged man, who is still in the wind, a shock of white with his shaved head and prisoner's clothes against the crimson sunset.

No problem, he says, just throw it on my bed when you come back inside. I'm gonna go see if there are any leftovers; do you want anything?

If I take my gaze away from the sun I'll go with him. Turning into a pillar of salt would be better than sharing another dinner with him, returning his jacket in person, our fingers brushing for a fraction of a second too long to be accidental, having to sleep in too-small on almost opposite sides of the room. Too many entries in-between Auslander and Desmet.

Turning into a pillar of salt would certainly be better than standing up and having him spot my erection. I ask without turning away, You think Red would appreciate the bold aesthetic choice we've left in the hall?

He'll be fine.

I shrug. You know him better than I.

A small laugh. Unfortunately. Last chance for leftovers.

I'm fine. Thank you.

Your loss. The door falls shut. I pull the edges of his jacket closer in, imagining myself a child again, blanket tight around me as my brother and I watched TV with the volume off, because it was close to 11 pm on a Saturday, and we weren't supposed to even be using any electricity. Every creak a sign of the house's incoming treachery, every motion in the peripheral of my vision a tiny little monster, taking notes.

Come to think of it, I called him a dissenter earlier, but I have not actually confirmed that's the case. Does it matter? What's done is done. Either way, the deer come back for us.

For some reason, looking at him hanging there makes me almost want to cry.

The other Yves's home is now a museum. In mine, the statue of Hermione collects scarves and keeps her mouth shut.

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 4: Christmas Market

I am soooo tired rn.

I guess that’s fine. I can go to sleep soon. I have so much I want/need to do this weekend and I already know I’m not gonna want to do ANY of it lol.

It doesn’t feel like tomorrow should be Saturday because I haven’t worked on site on a Friday in months. I almost DON’T want it to be the weekend in a way because while I do want to sleep in tomorrow and be lazy, I don’t want to... do all this stuff I need to do. Decorating. Baking. Gift stuff. Tons of writing. I want to finish two fics this weekend, which is a lot for me.

Anyway. The day was all right overall. I went into the library in the afternoon and had enough free time to do things like go down to compact shelving. Afterwards, I went Christmas shopping. I usually do this on Saturdays and have a whole day of it but this year it was dark and I was tired and I had a ride to get back to, so it wasn’t as fun. But actually still nicer than I was expecting.

The main complication this year is that the timing is so hard. The staff holiday exchange is the 18th but since we’re dropping stuff off for our giftees early and then picking up our gifts separately, we have to have our gifts at the library by the 11th. But I don’t work on the 11th so my deadline is the 9th. Which is quite early. And then I’m sending gifts to my parents, but I’m collecting them all here first, wrapping them up, and then putting them in a box and sending them off. And some of them require multiple steps. And I need to time the post office drop off to my work schedule because that’s when I leave the neighborhood. And you know the mail is gonna be insane this year. So it’s just complicated and I’m not into that.

My shopping trip was semi-successful. I couldn’t get my mom tea because the tea shop has closed. I’m very bummed about this because I loved that place. The upside is they were a chain (who knew) and the chain sells online. So I can still get the teas I like. But the shopping experience is gone. The bookstore also had like zero Christmas cards and very few wrapping options so I shall probably be scrounging stuff from the bags I have saved from other people’s gifts to me.

I did successfully get peanuts for my dad and my coworker, and a calendar for my mom. There was also a small Christmas market going on, which I spent some time at. It was pretty dark, and my glasses kept fogging up (I usually wear a different sort of mask so I’m not used to that happening... this one is prettier but ugh I can’t see!), so it was hard to actually look at the stuff being sold. A lot of pretty jewelry...but I wasn’t shopping for myself lol. I got a replacement gift for my mom that may or may not be successful, and a very delicious hot cider for myself.

For my dad, I was going to get prints of some pics of him, me, and my mom last Thanksgiving and then frame them, but the logistics of that turned out to be too difficult because I don’t want to send glass in the mail. So I decided to get a small photo album and fill it with prints instead, which is what lead me to looking through all these old pictures on my computer. Now it’s almost 11.... ugh. I always remember the nice aesthetic of the holidays but not how it’s so tiring and there’s so many things to do/remember. Even though I actually do not have that many responsibilities comparatively! Ah well!

[hobistagram]

Red bracelet

A Mingyu soulmate!au for me please? Yah know the red string stuff /I'm so sorry I can't remember anything about the red string I just heard about it when I had a vacation in Japan/ㅠㅠ thank you dear

A/N: sorry this took so long but i really love how it turned out and i hope you do too!

wc: ~4K

It was unique. That was the whole thing, your mother had found it at some flea market right after you were born and something about it, she’d said, had drawn her to it. It was red, braided, already a little frayed when she purchased it. The lady at the booth had insisted that she pick another one, but she’d been persistent. Then she’d taken it home to you, put it on your wrist and there it was. It became a part of you.

“Have you seen my bracelet?” You rifled through your nightstand then your dresser even though you knew it couldn’t be there. It’d never been off your wrist for more than a few minutes at a time. It was enough that it was the beginning of the new semester. You didn’t have time to worry about your bracelet and finding all your classes.

Your roommate peeked into your room and her face was confused and a little skeptical. “I thought you never took that thing off. Maybe it fell off in your sleep, have you checked your sheets?”

You nodded, already frustrated with her uselessness. “Yes.”

She paused in your doorway, resting against the frame as she stared at you searching the floor underneath your bed. You’d already checked but you thought maybe you’d missed something. “Where were you yesterday? Maybe you dropped it somewhere.”

You stopped. Yesterday you’d been out downtown with your friend. It was a new area of the city you hadn’t been acquainted with and you’d gone in at least ten different stores. Before your roommate could suggest anything else, you darted for your phone and dialed.

Your friend answered on the first ring. “Y/N?”

“Did you see me wearing my bracelet yesterday?”

She took a moment and you were grateful she was taking you seriously, whether it’s because of your tone or because she knows how much that bracelet means to you. “I definitely saw it on you at the beginning of the day, but I can’t remember if I saw it on you at the end.”

“Can you think back?” You forced your tone to calm itself. She was being helpful. You would find it. “At what point do you remember me last wearing it?”

She paused again and you told your heart to stop ratcheting in your chest. The last time you’d almost lost your bracelet you’d just left it on the sink when you’d taken it off to wash your face, but in the five minutes it had taken you to find it you’d lost your breath and your legs had begun shaking. Your friend had explained to you after that you’d probably had a panic attack and you were aware if you didn’t control yourself now you would have another. “Definitely saw you wearing it in the bookstore because it almost slipped off you when you took off your jacket.”

The bookstore had been the last store you’d visited. It left only one place for you to look and you tried to tell yourself that was better than nothing. “I’m gonna check the vintage place then, hopefully it’s there.”

“Want me to come with you?” The genuine concern in her tone was touching and you made a mental note to buy her something in return for her patience.

“That’s okay. It’ll only take a minute.”

You headed out, taking the same bus you’d taken yesterday and wishing it moved faster. For every second you spent on it, you imagined the million and one ways you arriving at the vintage store could play out. The lady who owned the store and had tried to get your friend to buy a chunky gem necklace could have found your bracelet and be ready to give it back to you. That was the best scenario. Or someone could have picked it up off the ground and taken it. Or the lady could have thrown it away. Or she could’ve found it and sold it.

By the time you arrived you’d already run through all the ways you would curse her or thank her endlessly.

It was your overthinking that had you screaming “Have you seen the bracelet?” as soon as you walked through the door.

The woman behind the counter, the same one you had seen yesterday, gave you a confused look.

You calmed yourself. “I’m sorry,” you smiled, hoping to not look agitated, “I think I dropped my bracelet here yesterday and I was wondering if you’d seen it. It’s red and woven.”

The woman’s eyes brightened and she held up a finger for you to wait. A moment later she ducked under the counter and rummaged around various piles until she stopped, straightening. “I found it on the ground and put it here.”

Your breath stopped. You gave her a blank look because you had no idea how to respond.

“Mom,” a male voice, young but deep and smooth, “do you want me to close up tonight? Because—”

“That’s mine.” You stopped him. Under normal circumstances, if the thing that you considered to be a part of you as much as your arm was a part of you wasn’t missing, you would’ve noticed the sultriness that seemed to be resting in his eyes and the hard line of his jaw and the pout in his lips. Right then all you could notice was your bracelet on his wrist.

He pulled his wrist to his chest as if you would snatch it from him. “I found it behind the counter yesterday.”

“Mingyu,” his mother said, and you were distressed her voice held little to no sternness, “please return the bracelet.”

Mingyu—you noted distantly that his name was pretty—looked back and forth between you and his mother. “No.”

“DUDE!” You were yelling and you felt shame rising up in your belly that you were screaming at him in front of his mother, but you refused to stop. “That’s mine.” You did reach out then, but Mingyu was taller than you by a good measure and he held up his arm out of your reach.

“Mingyu.”

“You called me dude. I’m Mingyu.” He blinked.

“I’m Y/N. Now give it.” You jumped.

He pulled back. “A meal. In exchange for the bracelet.” His face was serious but his tone was playful.

His mom went to speak again but you could tell by the expression on her face that she rarely won against her son and you stopped her before she could start. “Fine.” You held out your hand.

He tugged on the bracelet and you cringed at his carelessness. “I’ll give it back to you after our meal. Tonight at 8.”

You shook your head. “I have a meeting with my group for a class. Tomorrow at 8.”

He eyed you then a small smirk spread on his lips. “See you then.”

He walked back before you could say anything else and you felt defeated, anger coloring your cheeks. His mother returned to her task behind the counter and you pitied her for her crazy rude son who didn’t respect property.

You ran a hand through your hair, determined not to let the stress get to you. Your bracelet was fine and it was here. You just had to get it back.

---

The next night you were in front of the store, clutching your bag angrily, which was not something you’d been aware you could do angrily until that day. Thanks to Mingyu.

Mingyu came out a moment later, looked you up and down and smiled. “You look nice.”

You scowled at him. You’d come straight from class and you had refused to change. Your roommate had stopped you on your way out of the apartment. “You’re going out to dinner? Like that?”

And for a second you’d thought about pulling out a dress from the back of your closet, but this did not count as a date. This was two people settling a debt. Settling a debt did not warrant you changing out of your comfy pants.

“Let’s go,” you told him.

He led you to a place you’d never been to specifically because it was too expensive and you tried very hard not to bite his head off. At the table, he ordered more than you could ever possibly eat even between the two of you and then proceeded to down all of it.

The only pleasant thing, surprisingly, was his conversation. He was a talker so you hardly got a word in, but he was interesting at least. Apparently, he was a student at a performing arts college that you must’ve walked past a million times and never noticed. He had been helping his mother with her shop since they opened when he was a little kid. He was neat, a fact which surprised you, and he was usually the one that closed up because he was the only one that would take the time to straighten everything up. He talked about his mom sweetly, which also surprised you considering how he’d acted earlier, and it seemed like they were close, almost friends.

You couldn’t pretend you weren’t waiting for him to finish, because you were still aware that your bracelet was on him, but time didn’t seem to drag on. It was strange, you thought, you could almost picture a world where you liked him.

It pained you to pick up the tab two hours later, but you did, your heart sinking through to your shoes as you handed over your credit card to the sweet and patient waitress.

Then you held out your hand again. “My bracelet.”

Mingyu looked at the bracelet then at you. He paused. “One more dinner.”

“What? No!” You startled yourself with how loud you were and quieted again before starting. Even in the loud restaurant you’d managed to draw some attention. “You said one meal.”

“Yes, and now I’m saying one more.”

You glared at him. It was a low blow but you felt it coming anyway. “I’ll tell your mom.”

He gave you a look like he wanted to laugh but also like he was trying to be mad at you. “Fine.” He slid the bracelet off him and dropped it into your palm.

You felt an instant relief wash through you at the weight of it in your hand. You put it back on your wrist and immediately the anxiety that had been plaguing you lifted. You were certain you were smiling and you were certain you didn’t care.

He was still staring at the bracelet when you looked up at him. “You know my mom made me one just like that when I was a baby. When you left it she showed it to me. She said it was this color and everything,” he reached out, his finger tracing the line of your bracelet, following the weave of the threads. You were startled at the jump in your heart at his touch, “but she was working on it at her stand at this flea market and this woman told her she wanted it. She wasn’t going to sell it but she said ‘the woman looked like she really needed it.’” The last part he said in what you imagined was an imitation of his mother.

It took a moment for the gears to turn in your head. Your mother and his mother…when the two of you were still young enough to barely be considered people. What were the odds of that?

The guilt tugged at you anyway. He’d been the one who’d taken your bracelet but you felt like the thief and you hated that the boy you’d been certain was part demon was suddenly the victim.

“Maybe we can do one more dinner.”

His eyes shot open at your words, his mouth parted in shock. “Why?”

You pulled back your hand out of his reach, feeling too intimate with him. “This bracelet means a lot to me so…it’s only fair.”

He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious in his expression. But it was also clear that he had no clue why you were lying. “Tomorrow?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Seriously? So soon?”

He smiled, a genuine one, and your breath caught for a beat. “I’m gonna be really busy after tomorrow.”

You nodded, slowly, still processing. “Tomorrow then.”

---

You meet him outside the store again and you’re annoyed that you feel something churning your stomach. Anxiety? But for what?

He steps out and you let out a breath. Oh. Oh.

You like him. That’s it, the thing that had been bugging you and nudging at your consciousness. You looked at him and you realized it. It was scary how powerful it was, the way it made you gravitate toward him and ache to touch him. You wished you could go back to general anxiety.

“You look nice,” he said again. It was genuine this time and you took notice of the way his eyes lingered on your dress—you’d finally pulled it out of your closet—and your hair, carefully styled up and away from your face.

You thanked him, timid, and willed yourself not to act stupid. He would notice if all of a sudden you started acting like you liked him.

He led you to a different place this time. A Vietnamese place you’d visited only once with your parents and thought was amazing but could somehow never find your way back to.

He was less chatty this time. He took suggestions from you on what to order and ordered significantly less than he had before. He asked you questions about yourself, jumping when he heard what school you went to, saying he had almost gone there before he got into his school. He asked about a scar on your arm and laughed when you told him about the time you’d broken your arm falling off the monkey bars at recess and how the remaining scar had made you a playground badass. He questioned you abou your favorite music, movies, food, taking pauses only to inhale his food.

You only noticed it was over when there was nothing left on the table and the waiter cleared up your plates. You paused, hesitant to leave him.

He looked like he felt the same way, but you told yourself you were imagining it. “How about we—” He stopped at the buzz of his phone then he sighed. “My mom needs me back.”

You nodded, trying not to let disappointment color your tone. “I should be getting back too.”

He paused outside of the restaurant and for a second you thought he would ask you for another meal and you were surprised at how much you wanted that to be the case. You wanted him to want you as much as you wanted him. “Thanks for the meals,” is what he said. Not what’s your number? Or I wanna see you again or I love you.

“You’re welcome.” And then you kissed him.

The processing came after. After your lips were on his and you were tasting the mint from the drink he’d had and you were pressing your hand to his chest and he was reaching up to hold your waist. Then you realized you’d kissed him. You met him two days ago and now your lips were on his with no intention of leaving. You hadn’t even thought it through or wondered if he liked you back, you just knew he wasn’t saying he wanted to see you again and you’d never wanted to kiss anyone more than you wanted to kiss him.

Then you pulled away. You needed to breathe so you could kiss him again and then again and then again but the moment you pulled away you felt it. The embarrassment you’d somehow staunched down came roiling back up and choked you completely. You felt your face flood red and before he could say anything, you bolted.

---

You had been immature. That was what you’d told yourself. It was only right that you apologize. And without his phone number, that meant heading down to the vintage store.

You cursed yourself internally. If you hadn’t been so stubborn initially about not wanting to know anything about him other than what was absolutely necessary, you would have his number right now. You would be able to text him and tell him what an idiot you’d been and you promised you wouldn’t kiss him again and would he forgive you please.

Instead, you walked through the door of his mother’s shop and braced yourself.

His mother smiled at you. “Mingyu said he gave you your bracelet.”

You nodded and held up your wrist. “Is he here?”

Her face fell. “He didn’t tell you about school?”

You stared at her. Mingyu had told you about his school, but whatever it was she was looking for, you clearly didn’t have the answer. “What?”

“He’s studying abroad this year. He just left this morning.” Her face told of how she was already missing him though he couldn’t have been gone for more than a few hours. It was how you knew she was telling you the truth though your brain refused to process it.

You gaped. He left. And he didn’t tell you.

Of course not. He didn’t owe you anything. He didn’t like you the way you liked him and he’d probably just kissed you back on instinct. Face it, you told yourself, if he’d liked you, he would’ve chased after you.

You smiled at his mother and left.

---

One year later

Your friend grabbed your wrist. “Stop whining. It’s good for you to try new things.”

You scrunched your nose at her. “But it sounds gross. You know I’m not a big fan of tofu and all that stuff.”

She sighed and pulled you behind her. “Just give it a try.”

You had a retort on your tongue but you felt a weightlessness on your skin and when you looked down your bracelet had torn, the thread frayed and ragged where it had finally given out.

Panic rose in you. You had no idea how to put it back together. You imagined it could be sewn but you had no clue how fragile the material was. What if you made it worse?

You knew who could help you but the thought of returning there made you sick. You hadn’t seen Mingyu’s mom since she’d told you he’d gone abroad. The loss of him had stung you longer than you cared to admit. You’d taken to dreaming about him. During the day, you would shove him to the back of your mind and refuse to let the memory of him affect you but at night your mind was traitorous.

Still, your bracelet was more important.

You had no desire to make your friend suffer through another one of your panic attacks so you headed to the store alone and told yourself that Mingyu’s mom would be able to fix it.

When you arrived, you had a moment of déjà vu because the first words out of your mouth were “Can you fix it?” and Mingyu’s mom’s resulting stare of confusion was the same one she’d given you over a year ago when you’d shown up here the first time. “My bracelet broke,” you explained, “I think you made this when I was a baby and I thought maybe you could fix it.” You showed her the frayed bracelet.

You can’t explain how you knew it, but he was there. You could feel it the way you felt sunshine on your skin. You turned your head and he was standing in the doorway leading to a backroom looking at you like you’d materialized out of thin air.

You thought about saying something, anything—“hi” for instance—but his mother caught your attention.

She shook her head. “It’s too worn. I couldn’t weave it back together, I’d just have to start over.”

You felt your legs give out and you thought you would sink to the ground but miraculously they stayed rigid beneath you. You blinked out the tears you could feel coming and steadied yourself long enough to say “Thank you,” then you ran.

You only made it outside the store before you could feel yourself crying. It wasn’t a conscious thing but suddenly you had to stop because you could no longer see the world before you. If someone asked you to articulate why the loss of this old bracelet made you so upset, you’d have no good reasons to give them, but you felt it. As ridiculous as it was.

“You can have mine.”

Mingyu sounded patient and small, like someone speaking to a scared puppy, and you had to wipe away tears before you could finally see him before you. “What?”

He held up his wrist. “Take mine.” He slid the bracelet off and held it out to you. When you didn’t move he took your hand and pushed it into your palm, sealing your fingers around it. You opened your fist and stared at it. It looked like yours, same color and design, but it had different imperfections. “My mom made it. When I saw yours, I felt kind of robbed I never got to have mine,” he smiled but his tone was a little sad, “so I asked her if she could make one. But it means more to you so...take it.”

You wished you could’ve said that you put up more of a fight, that you told him you didn’t want it. But instead you took it. “Thank you,” you said and wiped away what was left of your tears. “How was studying abroad?”

He gave you a surprised look.

“Your mom told me. After you left.” You blushed. “I came back to apologize and you weren’t here.”

“Ah.” He nodded and you could sense there was a bit of embarrassment in him too though his face didn’t flush like yours. “Studying abroad was okay. I thought about you a lot.”

You misheard. It was what your brain told you. It was why all you could say was, “What?”

He looked down and he was flushing then, his cheeks red in a way you could never imagine your face looking. It surprised you after all this time how beautiful he still was. “I thought about kissing you a lot.”

“Oh.” The word felt stupid and inadequate in your mouth but you couldn’t make better ones appear. You tried again. “I thought about…kissing you too.” You tripped over the words like you couldn’t quite believe you were saying them.

“Just—promise me you won’t run away this time.” He smiled. It was the same smile that made you forget that this was a boy you’d just met, that made you feel like he’d created that smile just for you.

You realized too late you should’ve responded but Mingyu didn’t seem to care much because he went in to kiss you anyway. His lips were soft and you thought you were going crazy when you tasted mint because how could taste the same as he had last time and your hands were trying to find a grip on his shirt and you were distantly aware that you were on the sidewalk kissing and probably somewhere someone was walking by and thinking about how annoying young people were but none of that mattered because Mingyu was kissing you and it felt like things falling into place.

When he pulled away you were panting but not yet ready to part with his lips and it took all of your will not to draw him into another kiss. “Oh, I meant to ask you.” He said and his tone seemed far too casual for the situation but his eyes spoke of fireworks and worlds colliding and fate.

You smiled at him and he lit up at the sight. “What?”

“What’s your number?”

You laughed because you’d waited a year but it felt like no time and forever. It was delayed, but here it was. You were beginning.

[melchixr]

Apartment

Anon said: Ok so I read your bowling alley fix and I'm guessing that when Ernst was talking about his friend that Melchior would be perfect with he meant Moritz, so I started imagining the awkward melchritz introduction and I was DYING. Could you please please write a sequel about it? 

So this is in reference to my sorta mini series???? including Hanschen the Edgy Dropout Photographer and Ernst the Naive Bookstore Cashier & Neon Bowling Alley

Song: Apartment -Modern Baseball

Words: 14111

The first time I saw you was in your apartment I had followed my friends single-file through the darkness I looked your direction for excessive inspection And I could not muster the courage to say a single word

Melchior was unsure how many times he had wiped his sweaty palms off onto his jeans in the three minute walk from his car to the door. His stomach was tossing and turning, his hair a mess from running his hands through it over and over. But worst of all, the light bulb at the end of the hallway was burnt out. The last few feet was in shadow, with the front door to 214 at the very end of the narrow hall.

“You sure he’s not gonna be mad that I came along?” He asked in a nervous voice to the back of Hanschen’s head. His best friend turned to flash a smile.

“Oh yes, quite sure,” He stated to try and calm Melchior’s anxious mind. “I told Ernst to tell him and he said he’d love to tell you over.”

He had seen about a million pictures of this guy and practically knew everything about him, all thanks to Ernst. He was grateful that Ernst and Hanschen were dating. Only because whenever Ernst was around, he’d insist on setting up the newly single Melchior with someone.

And not just someone. Always ‘Moritz’. ‘Moritz’ who had never even been on a date. ‘Moritz’ who ‘isn’t all that shy when you get to know him’. ‘Moritz’ who, apparently, held game night at his house every Thursday.

Hanschen was knocking at the door before Melchior could think up an excuse to go home, eat supermarket sushi, and watch Seinfeld until the early hours of the morning.

But it was too late. The shadows of the hallway was broken by the door opening and yellow, incandescent light. It blinded Melchior momentarily before he saw a thin, bony frame of a boy. The first thing that came to him was the absolute rat’s nest of jet black hair, sticking out at all angles.

“Hey, Hansi. What’s up.” A shaky, almost whiny voice said from inside. “Oh, this must be Milk-ee-or.”

“Oh….Uh….No….But...Hi.”

For a while we were playing this game that your friends bought But everyone cheated and no one could spell You didn't say much of anything I must have come off annoying, cause you went to bed

“HAVE YOU NEVER PLAYED SCRABBLE IN YOUR LIFE, HANSCHEN WHATEVER-YOUR-LAST-NAME-IS!” Ilse yelled, slamming her hand down on the board for the third time that night.

“It’s Rilow, for fucks sake,” He said and took his misspelt ‘Hefty’ off the board. “It’s not like I’ve been coming here for the last four months.”

Martha sighed and went to work again setting up the now scattered letters.  “I swear to God, you are both so extra.”

The small circle around the coffee table laughed themselves silly, all except Moritz.

The host sat in the arm of the couch cross-legged. He had a cup of sparkling water between his legs, seeing as he didn’t drink. And he was being a great host, making sure all their glasses were full and there was good music on and he kicked the heather behind him every once in awhile to stop it from making weird noises. But not a single word. He smiled sometimes, which made the whole room seem to light up. Occasionally, he’d giggle quietly and made Melchior’s stomach seem to twist and burst.

But still, no words. He just observed the whole group with a content look.

Melchior sipped his beer slowly, sitting adjacent from the beautiful boy in question, admiring his ripped jeans and baggy gray hoodie. He then noticed, when he his green eyes finally met with Moritz’s hazel ones, that he had been staring for at least five minutes. And Hanschen had been trying to get his attention for some time.

“Melchi!” he boomed when his friend had snapped out of it and noticed everyone looking at him. “Jesus Christ, earth to Gabor!:

Melchior felt himself go bright red and cast his eyes back to the ground. Both the eye contact and everyone staring at him had been the most embarrassing thing he’d ever lived through. “Oh….yeah….Uh...sorry…..” He muttered, his cheeks practically bursting into flame.

The room was quiet as they all realized what they were witnessing, seeing the pink now on Moritz’s cheek as he stood.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed soon. You guess leave when you want. Or don’t. Food is in the fridge and make sure to close the windows.”

He shuffled off down the hall, hands in pockets, before opening his bedroom door and disappearing into into it, leaving Melchior in his shame and a room full of giggling young adults.

I walk home with my eyes low Dreaming up conversations we'll have tomorrow Your loose ends, my new friends All the classes in high school we fell asleep in But now I can hardly close my eyes

“Are you sure,Melchi?  It’s really late. We’ll drop you off at your place, it’s really no problem.”

Melchior looked into the old bug from the passenger side window, where Ernst now occupied the seat. They were heading to Hanschen’s apartment, which they had announced that night would now become he and Ernst’s apartment and they’d be moved in together by the end of the month. But Melchior really didn’t like the idea of sitting in the back of Hanschen’s car and replaying that night’s events over and over.

“Nah, man. I think I’ll just walk. I need to clear my mind.”

The blond leaned over to look Melchior over, his expression sincere. “You’re not mad about the whole thing with us laughing at you, right?”

Melchior shook his head, brown curls falling into his eyes. “No. Not at all. I just wanna go on my walk. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

“Okay. If you get mugged, don’t complain to me.”

“Never would. See you tomorrow.”

And so the pair took off down the empty street, the car making odd noises as they moved out of sight.

Melchior knew he was going to sit there and rethink the night over and over. He wouldn’t be surprised if he wouldn’t be able to look Moritz in the eye again after tonight. Hell, he’d probably show up to Ernst and Hanschen’s wedding in a few years (or a few months, who is he kidding) and would have to look away from the other side of the aisle the whole time.

Maybe he’d just live the rest of his life without ever speaking or leaving his room again.

He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight as he began the walk home at one am.

The next time I saw you was in your apartment Oh, why do I keep ending up here on starlit evenings? I should be home sleeping But this time you sat next to me on the couch

Although the entire ride there, Melchior had been fighting tooth and nail. He begged that they would just pull over and let him roll out onto the street before he dare face Moritz again.

But Hanschen had promised that Moritz wanted Melchior back over. And he had completely forgotten about the incident. Melchior was still embarrassed, but still, some part of him turned into fireworks when he heard that Moritz wanted him to come over.

The light was still out in the hallway when they arrived, but this time when Moritz opened the door, his smile could’ve lit up the whole apartment building.

“Hey, Hansi, Ernst…Melchior. Come on in.”

This week was Uno, which was even more violent than Scrabble. Martha was out for blood, Ernst had already won four games in a row, and for some reason, Moritz had decided to sit next to Melchior.

His legs were crossed and he still hadn’t said anything, but he was still sitting right next to Melchior on the gross, stained pull out couch and he was smiling. Pretty pale lips twisted up into a soft smile whenever anyone made a joke, and now, sometimes just when he was just staring into space. But it was a lot more than he was last week.

And it was so so so so pretty.  

He was so so so pretty.

But Melchior didn’t dare stare this time. He would glance over every once in a while to see him looking at his hand of cards, puffy and slightly greasy hair falling into his face. And fuck, he was so gorgeous it was hard to look away.

And he prayed that Moritz wouldn’t realize the heavy beating of his heart or the sound of his breath stopping short in his chest when he felt Moritz shift in his seat and rub his shoulder against Melchior’s.

I stare out the window Hands glued tight and sore Praying to God-knows-what That you would sever what's stuck With something shiny from the kitchen drawer

“Hey, you awake?”

Melchior opened his eyes to see a familiar face looking down at him. “Uh….no….” He muttered  in a sleepy voice. “Oh I mean...yeah…. I’m up….”

Moritz down at Melchior with big, doe-like eyes. He nodded and took a step back, letting Melchior now take in the full view of the room. He had fallen asleep on the couch with Ilse sitting across from him, passed out on the recliner. Coraline was still playing on the TV, seeing that they had been about halfway through it when everyone passed out and it kept replaying.

Moritz was still up though. Now in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and an old tee shirt. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes seemed like canyons in the dark room. The only like was the blueish tint coming from the screen of the old TV. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Hanschen and Ernst just woke up and left and they wanted me to be sure that you got a ride home.”

“Oh thanks….I guess I’ll head out then and-”

“I mean, you can stay if you want!”

Moritz cut him off abruptly, probably a bit too loud than he should have been. He shifted his weight from left to right, nervously tucking his hands into his pockets. “Well….You already...I mean…. Fell asleep and I don’t wanna stop you. I don’t mind at all.”

“Ugh, thanks Mo…..”

Melchior rolled over, slowly fading back to sleep in an odd fetal position as Moritz stared at him with big eyes. “Oh… Mo.... You just called me.... Mo…” he whispered under his breath as his cheeks turned a soft pink. He raised his voice a bit so Melchior could hear before he passed out  with his wire rim glasses falling off of one ear. “Did you just…call me ‘Mo’?”

“Mmmwhatmm?” He whimpered, rolling onto his back. In the pale moonlight coming from the window, he could practically see in bouncing off of his pale pink skin. Little freckles and moles dotted over his skin. Moritz couldn’t help but feel like stomach tighten at the sight of it.

“Nothing….Shout if you need me.”

I walk home with my eyes low Dreaming up conversations we'll have tomorrow Your loose ends, my new friends All the classes in high school we fell asleep in But now I can hardly close my eyes

“Only two blocks away, Jesus, how haven’t we seen each other before?” Moritz chuckled and fumbled to light a cigarette even as the cold air kept blowing out his flame.

“It’s a pretty big city,” Melchior shrugged, closing the door to Moritz’s building behind him and stepping out onto the sidewalk. The streets weren’t too busy seeing as it was eight am. But Moritz had to get to work at nine and Melchior woke up at seven and was unable to get back to sleep. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did run into each other before.”

“No, I would have remembered if I’d seen you before,” He scoffed and finally got the cigarette lit and took a drag as Melchior just stared at him, the tiniest smile on his lips.

The two began the walk down the street,side by side. Melchior in his jeans and jacket from yesterday, and Moritz’s hair still unshowered and pretty gross. But neither even seemed to notice. They were too busy doing a mixture of nervously glancing at each other and also nervously looking anywhere else but each other.

“I uh…..” Moritz cut himself short of offering to buy Melchior coffee. Too soon. “So...like….how do you know Hanschen?”

Melchior shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets to nervously fiddle with some string. “Oh we met back when he was still in school and hit it off. I stayed at his apartment for a while when my ex-girlfriend kicked me out and we’ve been really really tight since then.”

Moritz nearly tripped over a homeless man as Melchior spoke. He almost immediately felt his heart sink into his stomach. “Oh...I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” he chuckled weakly, attempting to play it all off. But as his brain told him to stop, his mouth kept going. “I was just thinking by what Ernst said that you...like….”

As Moritz felt himself cringing into the abyss, hoping his dumb mouth would stop talking for once, Melchior couldn’t help but light up. “Wait...So...Ernst told you about me?”

There was a pause when both of the young men stopped in their tracks. Turning to each other, Melchior’s grin was so pure and light and brimming with an unspoken joy. Moritz thought that ‘sparkling eyes’ was a thing only in shitty fan fic and romance novels. But here he was looking into the biggest, ‘sparkling’ eyes he’d ever seen.

“Yeah, he practically sold you to my like a used car salesman,” Moritz chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette. “Gave me estimated penis size and everything.”

Melchior giggled like an idiot. He didn't remember ever being this happy in the middle of a street. Or with another greasy, pretty boy. “Oh wow. Didn’t know he had so much info on me. Don’t know how he got it but….”

Moritz grinned and sighed to himself before putting his cigarette out on the concrete. “So uh….Did we get set up on a date without knowing about it?”

“Oh I knew. I just didn’t know that you knew.”

“This is some Brady Bunch shit, I swear to God.”

I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to hang out tonight We could make dinner or something

“So when do you get off of work again?” Melchior asked for the fifth time, making sure he had the time ingrained into his mind.

“I get off at four,” He stated, “And I’ll be here to pick you up at five.” He looked up at the tall apartment complex Melchior lived in that he now realized he could see through his bedroom window. Probably something you don’t bring up before your first date.

“Rad. Really, really rad.”

There was a pause where the two men stood, unsure of how to say goodbye after a walk like theirs. A pat on the back and a ‘see you tonight’ felt too casual. But a kiss was far too much.

Maybe just a gentle smile as Melchior opened the door. “I’ll see you a five then….Mo.”

“Oh fuck you heard me last night, didn’t you?” Moritz’s eyes blew up like saucers.

Melchior didn’t reply, just closed the door behind him walked into the lobby with a giant grin.