#i genuinely don’t care that much. i more care about disappointing my choir teacher

[navysealt4t]

buh. i did my solo! for some reason my breath support fucking flew out the window bc i was so nervous . so i don’t think i’m getting command or performing at the concert but oh well it’s done now

[jimlingss]

hi!! for the requests, could I suggest hoseok, fluff, fake dating au, and the sentence 'I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.' thank you!

↳ Humdrum Amore

2.7k || 100% Fluff || Jung Hoseok

“I never thought I’d come back here one day.”

You stare at the brown building that you once dreaded. The same structure that you had to drag your feet into every morning five days a week after your dad dropped you off. But instead of feeling apprehension, there’s a sense of prickling nostalgia while you look at the building.

“Same.” The man beside you exhales, staring at the green field, the brown doors and small windows covered by blinds. “But it’s not all that bad, right?”

You turn to Hoseok who looks sharp in his simple suit and tie ensemble. You’ve seen him in the same clothes plenty of times, but while you’re wearing your red dress and you’re lingering in front of the school, it feels like the two of you have returned to being awkward eighteen year olds nervously going to prom together as friends.

But Hoseok eases you. “Come on.”

He takes your hand, a gesture you still aren’t used to, and tugs you inside.

The moment the doors are open, you follow the signs leading to the gymnasium and you’re met with a table of refreshments and goody bags. But more importantly, there are people already mingling in all corners. Some are wandering while most have gathered into groups to reminisce. There are those that you recognize and those whose faces have long faded in your memories. 

High school. A time of pubescent years, of growing up and trying to prove yourselves while figuring out your future. You have mixed feelings about that time. All you know is that you’re glad it’s over.

“Y/N?” There’s a higher pitched voice to the left and you turn to see Tiffany approaching with a wide smile. “Hoseok?! Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys! How are you?”

You hug her for a second. “It’s good. You?”

“Yeah.” She exhales as if she can’t believe you’re together again and you admit, it is surreal. There was definitely a difference from glancing at someone’s post, status and updates on social media and seeing them in person. “It’s been great. I didn’t know if you were coming to this reunion or not.”

You smile, glancing at Hoseok. He was right about coming. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Someone walks by with a tray of cheap champagne and all three of you take a glass, thanking the waiter. Tiffany sips her drink and gets down to the nitty-gritty. “So tell me, what do you do now?”

You brace yourself, knowing this was coming. “I’m working as an embryologist at a fertility lab.”

“That’s so cool!” Her eyes widen and she genuinely appears fascinated. “It sounds super fancy.”

You laugh, concealing the note of awkwardness in your voice. Tiffany doesn’t know that it sounds much better than it actually is. It’s an entire step down from being a family doctor, an occupation which you once said was your dream. And she has no clue that you’re struggling under your strict manager, that you just received a cut in pay and your hours are strenuous.

But you don’t dare show your exhaustion. Or your discontentment.

You keep flashing a bright smile.

Everyone in high school expected you to do great, that you would go somewhere, do something. You were the smart one. The hard-working one. There’s always been a certain burden of expectations on your shoulders from your parents to your teachers, and perhaps that’s where the need to prove yourself to your former peers stems. If they knew how mundane and regular and normal you turned out — instead of being the successful achiever — you’re sure their disappointment would have a bigger effect on you more than you’d ever admit. 

And maybe that’s why Hoseok offered to pretend to be your partner for the night after you grieved about not being with anyone, when you struggled to find a plus one. He knows you best after all.

“What are you doing?” you ask Tiffany, and she hesitates, looking down at her drink for a second.

“Actually, I’m in-between jobs at the moment.” She musters a smile. “The economy sucks right now.”

You sympathize. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard to find a job these days.”

Tiffany turns to Hoseok and when she asks what he’s been up to, he says, “Nothing much. I’m working in IT as a development manager for this company.”

“Oh, that’s super cool too!” She’s about to ask something, but then her eyes incidentally stray downwards. You follow her line of sight, realizing that she’s looking at the way you’re holding hands with Hoseok.

“We’re...actually dating now,” you explain.

Instantaneously, Tiffany brightens. “You guys started dating after high school? When?!”

You laugh awkwardly. “Two...three years ago?” It doesn’t sound terribly convincing, so you try a second time, standing your ground. “Two, I think.” It falls a bit short, but she doesn’t notice. 

No. Tiffany absolutely gushes. “That’s so cute! Oh my god! I always thought you’d both be good together!”

That has you taken aback. The relief of getting away with your lie and not being caught gets overtaken by surprise. “Really?”

“Well yeah. You were always close friends and everyone,” she emphasizes the word by drawing it out, “knew Hoseok had a huge crush on you.”

This was news to you.

But Hoseok outright ignores your stare in favour of smiling at your old friend and holding up your interlaced hands by your heads as if it’s a trophy. “Well, looks like I got the girl in the end.”

“Are you gonna propose any time soon then?”

There’s a glint of mischief in Hoseok’s eye. “Maybe.”

He’s way too good at lying. You’re starting to get convinced this is real.

“Aw, I wish I was at this honeymoon stage again. Everything’s so sweet and cute.”

Speaking of which. “Where’s Nick?” you ask.

Tiffany deflates slightly at the question and you wonder if you said something wrong. You don’t understand until she says, “Oh….yeah...we decided to split up a few months ago.”

“Really?” You would’ve never expected it. From what you remember, they were one of the few high school sweethearts that actually made it in the long run, a couple that you used to be jealous of at sixteen. They ended up getting married too and you saw pictures of them traveling together a year ago. Who knew what her life was actually like behind the scenes. “I’m...so sorry, Tiffany.”

“It’s alright. Life happens, I guess, but it all worked out in the end and we both have joined custody of Sunny. It gets messy sometimes but as long as she’s happy, I am too.” She smiles softly and then nods. “Well, it was really nice to catch up with you two. I’m happy to hear you’re going out. Better put a ring on this one before you lose her, Jung.”

“I will,” he promises.

Tiffany leaves to catch up with a girl she knew from choir, so you both bid your goodbyes. But somehow, the conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

After greeting a few more old friends and acquaintances, you leave to the hallway. 

The nostalgia slams into you, stronger than before. If you stare long enough, you can picture the hall crammed with your classmates, how you ran from class to class, sat in the desks, bored out of your mind and at times, stressed. The walls and rooms hold so many of your memories without them knowing. And that in itself makes you feel old and gray, even though you aren’t.

Not yet, at least. Hoseok always reassures you that you have another good thirty years before you’re allowed to call yourself old.

Said man glances at your expression and reads it like an open book. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sigh. “It’s just….I don’t know. I was trying to save face this entire time and I even went as far as to lie about our relationship.”

“You didn’t do it alone. I lied too.”

“Yeah, but I wanted this.” You shake your head, slowly rounding a corner and making your way down what you remember as the science corridor. “People probably have more going on with themselves than to care what I’m up to. I don’t know why I was so scared about what they would think about me.” 

The corner of his mouth curls, and he nudges you with his elbow. “It’s high school.”

You lightly scoff but a smile tickles at your lips. “I just feel bad. Tiffany was so honest about herself, and she wasn’t ashamed about how her life turned out, not like I am.”

“No one turned out how they expected themselves to,” he hums in a thoughtful tone while glancing at the bulletin board tacked with handmade flyers for clubs. “It’s okay if you didn’t end saving the planet or finding the cure to cancer.”

You snort and soften. “Yeah.”

Hoseok always knows what to say to make you feel better.

“Look!” The peaceful moment is interrupted by the sheer volume of his voice. He points down the hall. “Our old lockers!”

You laugh, quickening your steps with his. The lockers are not technically yours anymore, they haven’t been for a long time and have probably been through tens of students since. Even right now, there are unfamiliar locks that keep them closed. But you still remember which one was yours.

You stand in front of it and Hoseok stands in front of his which is only three lockers down from yours.

The pair of you look at one another, exchanging grins. “Remember when I kept your math textbook for you since you were too lazy to put it away and we had to toss it to each other every morning?”

“Yeah. I never missed once.” He laughs and it’s a bubbly sound that’s exactly the same as back then. “Remember that time Taehyung stuffed himself inside my locker and we locked him in?”

You burst out laughing. “We almost got into trouble by Mr. Min!”

“Yep. That old man was always trying to pick on kids.”

“Except for that time Jimin launched that cake across the hall and it landed on some poor girl. He was nowhere to be found.”

Hoseok grins and comes over to lean on the blue locker next to yours, crossing his arms like he’s waiting for you before you’re late for the bell.

A sentimental feeling that is both wistful and happy washes you over again. You can recall those years as if they were yesterday. Namely, Hoseok would always be there when you closed your locker door, in the exact same position, staring at you with that identical warm expression. You don’t know a lot of your old high school friends anymore, don’t know what they’re doing or if they’ll come. It’s a natural progression of life, of going different paths and naturally drifting apart. 

But Hoseok has always been your side. Since then till now.

“So.” You turn to him. “What’s this about everyone knowing you had a crush on me?”

Hoseok goes wide-eyed and says nothing for a moment. Then he scratches the back of his neck. “Just stupid kid stuff.”

You raise a brow and hum. “Didn’t sound like stupid kid stuff. How long did you even like me for?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m curious.” You shrug. “I never heard about this before.”

Hoseok is embarrassed, that much is obvious. You can tell by the way he’s brushing around the subject, not looking you in the eyes, how much he’s hesitating. It’s not like him and that makes you even more intrigued. “A while.”

Maybe you shouldn’t push him so much when he doesn’t want to talk about it. But for some reason, there’s a burning desire inside of you to know. After all, you thought you knew all of your best friend’s secrets.

“What’s a while?”

“Like sixth grade?”

Your jaw drops. “So when we met?”

“Yeah..?” Hoseok seems unsure and he’s staring at the other wall as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. There’s nothing but a dirty shoe print on it. “Something like that.”

Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. Although, for an entirely different kind of reason. “But why?”

He turns his head, as if sensing you’re about to self-deprecate yourself. “You’re funny and smart and pretty, Y/N. Everyone liked you,” Hoseok explains it as if it’s factual and your cheeks grow warm.

You suck in your cheek, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me you liked me?”

“I was awkward and I was too scared you’d reject me,” he exhales and you glance at him to find an unreadable expression. Perhaps he’s uncomfortable at the idea now that he’s grown out of it and he knows you too well. Or maybe...just maybe...he’s filled with regret.

You shake off the thought before your imagination runs wild.

You’re about to drop the subject once and for all, but as you turn away, the quiet mutter slips from your mouth, “I wouldn’t have.”

Hoseok catches it. 

He freezes completely and when you realize he’s not following you back to the gymnasium, you turn around. “Earth to Hoseok. What’s wrong?” 

“What about now?”

“What?”

His expression is blank aside from the slight furrow of his brow. It’s not often Hoseok’s entirely serious and you’re caught off guard by his demeanour. He closes the distance in three strides and asks, “If I asked you out now, if I said I wanted to date you for real, would you reject me?”

His gaze is dark. Intense. As if he’s mustered up the courage he’s built for years for this very moment. 

Your mouth opens, eyes unable to look away from him and your voice pipes out a timid— “no.”

In an instant, Hoseok’s mouth is on yours. Your back slams against the lockers as he cradles your cheeks in his palms, tilting his head to capture your lips carefully yet eagerly. You whine in his grasps and quickly reciprocate, moving your mouth against his. It’s soft, warm and comforting. Hoseok has always been comforting to you. A slow burn rather than a bursting firework that eventually fades away. A warm bonfire that’s built from the first spark rather than a forest wildfire that ultimately burns out after consuming everything. 

You’ve always loved him. But perhaps it wasn’t always purely platonic like you thought. At least not until tonight where that’s been challenged.

Hoseok's body is firm and warm against yours. His knee is placed between your thighs and you loop your arms around his neck to get him even closer. Your senses are filled with his cologne, the lingering scent of his shaving cream and shampoo. Hoseok tastes like the champagne he drank and you’re beginning to feel dizzy from it. That or you’re running out of breath.

You whimper rather pathetically, but he doesn’t let up. Not until you push at his shoulder and he has to gather his self-restraint to part from you. 

You’re left panting heavily against him, lips swollen and Hoseok exhales before laughing. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” 

You grin. “Always?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Practically.”

Never would you have thought Hoseok would kiss you against your lockers. It’s another memory you’re making in these walls even after years of graduating. But you’d like a second time to make up for all the others, so you start to tug Hoseok’s tie to get him closer again—

“Hey!” 

There’s an ear-splitting shout and the two of you flinch, whirling around to the end of the hall.

“You’re supposed to be in the gymnasium!” Old man Mr. Min is bumbling towards you with a cane, his voice surprisingly still full of power even when he looks like a sack of bones.

“Sorry!” You duck your head and before he can catch you, your hand entwines with Hoseok’s. The two of you dash down the hall as if you were still trouble-making high-schoolers.

Hoseok mutters in complete shock, “He’s still alive?!”

And you laugh, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter.

You return to the reunion and your heart is a bit lighter knowing this time, you don’t have to lie.

[ragecndybars]

How Post-Pacifrisk Sans Becomes PTA Sans

An overly long and detailed description of how I see the origins of PTA Sans.

Alright, I know PTA Sans is mostly a joke AU, but I’m gonna be real honest with y’all, it’s one of my main headcanons for Post Pacifrisk monsters. Like, I wouldn’t even consider it AU, just a continuation.

I mean, the way I see it, even after they get to the surface, Sans is Not Great.  Like, he’s ecstatic at first, of course -- they all got out of the underground, Frisk didn’t kill anyone, monster/human relations are far better than they’d dared to hope, etc -- but then after a week or so, when all the hustle dies down, he just kinda. Casually thinks to himself, “I wonder if the kid can still reset?” And from then on, he’s super paranoid that a reset will occur at any second.

After a while, with the others’ help, he gets himself back together, and Frisk manages to convince him that she’s not going to reset this time, but that doesn’t change the fact that Sans has been living in a world completely free of consequence for a long time, and after so long of becoming numb to it all, it’s really hard to start giving a shit again. So, naturally, everyone decides that what he needs is to find something to be passionate about again -- and Sans is like, hey, it’s a lot of work that I don’t wanna do, but for the first time in a long time I have a genuine shot at happiness, and also Papyrus is already getting excited at the idea, so I guess I’ll give it a try.

(rest under the cut b/c this got long af)

Naturally, going back to being a scientist is right out -- way too many bad memories -- so Alphys can’t really help. Papyrus has become a sort of figurehead for the monsters since he’s so likable, kind, and genuine, and he also still doesn’t really know about the war Asgore called on humanity a while ago, so there’s no chance of him slipping up and mentioning that little detail. But that much attention and always smiling for the camera is really not Sans’ thing either. Undyne is a soccer coach/mom, and probably an athlete of several other types, but geez, Sans gets tired just watching those kids chase that ball around. Toriel lets him try as a substitute teacher for a week, but oh my god turns out being a teacher is actually a lot of work, and he likes the work, but he’s just not quite ready for that level of it yet. Mettaton’s band is full and Sans can only play various comedic noises on the trombone anyway, so that leaves him with not a lot of choices.

But then Asgore approaches him one day all like, “Y’know, Sans, there’s an opening in the PTA at Frisk’s school, and we really want to fill it with a monster for the sake of making our voice heard. Will you give it a try?”

And Sans, despite not liking the sound of it at all, decides, well, he does like Frisk and wants to stick up for the kid, and he is kinda interested in seeing what, exactly, PTAs do, so why not?

Next Wednesday, he shows up to his first meeting, Toriel having at least convinced him to wash his trademark hoodie and shorts, and immediately some of the parents hate him. None of them are bold enough to make any snide remarks -- not even Linda; we’ll get to her later -- but they’re very blatantly suspicious, condescending, and etc. Sans doesn’t actually give one singular shit, so he just trolls them constantly throughout the meeting and doesn’t pay a single shred of attention to what’s going on otherwise -- he has no idea what half the terms they’re using mean, anyway. And, whaddya know, he has a blast! So he happily agrees to go to more of these meetings, if only because Helen’s face turns a very interesting shade of puce when he does so.

The others are ecstatic, thinking he’s finally found something to care about, and they’re so excited that he can’t bear to correct them, so he just kinda rolls with it. But, unfortunately, Papyrus is naturally very invested in the whole thing now, and he starts asking Sans about what the PTA is doing, how Frisk’s schooling in general is going, what the other parents are like, etc. etc. Which means that, since Sans is too weak to leave his brother disappointed, he has to actually start trying, ugggghhhh.

So, with the help of Frisk (I’m tempted to say Toriel but she’s probably just as clueless as Sans honestly), he starts to do some research on some of the things he vaguely remembers Linda and co. arguing about. Like vaccines... okay, so they’re mandatory medicine that keeps kids from getting fatal diseases; cool. And gluten is just... a thing some people are allergic to, but a lot more people think they’re allergic to than are actually allergic to it? O... kay... He knows what autism is, because Toriel did some research when they found out Frisk had it and shared her notes with him. What’s “quiet hands”? Frisk gets... oddly subdued when he asks, so he drops it.

Eventually, he’s sufficiently educated in all the relevant ridiculous PTA topics, and he starts paying a tiny bit of attention during meetings, just so he can have something to report home to Papyrus about, and --

Wait.

Did Linda just say... she’s against vaccines? ......Because she thinks they “cause autism”?

At first, he isn’t even mad at all; he’s just confused. He’s convinced that he’s missing something here; he must’ve missed some crucial details in his research, because Linda has proven herself to be a passive-aggressive, somewhat racist, very self-righteous person so far, but she can’t really be willing to sacrifice her children’s health and possibly lives just because she thinks they might turn out like Frisk. Frisk is a great kid. Can autism even be “caught”? He doesn’t think so, but...

Well, he dismisses those thoughts, because, as I said, he just assumes he missed something in his research, and Papyrus has no idea what he’s talking about when he recites Linda’s whole rant at home later, but he’s still satisfied.

But then. He starts to get bigger audiences for his recitations. And the other monsters hear the shit Linda’s been spewing. And they are Not Pleased.

Like, “What do you MEAN they want to separate the P.E. class by gender and species?!?!?! That’s stupid!!! I teach all the kids perfectly fine!!! And why should they have to learn different things based on whether they’re a boy or a girl, or a human or a monster?????? AND WHERE DO FRISK AND MONSTER KID GO?!?! THEY AREN’T BOYS OR GIRLS!!”

And, “W-wait, she’s... anti... vaccines? B-but they’re absolutely vital! Literally! Th-they stop fatal illnesses! Not only is she endangering her own ch-child, but she’s endangering the other children, too!”

And, “WHAT?!?!?! LUNCHES THAT DON’T ALLOW SPAGHETTI???!! WHY?!?! ... WHAT IS “GLUTEN” AND WHY ARE WE NOT ALLOWED TO EAT IT?!?!”

And, “Excuse me, she said what about the dress code? Why exactly does she want gender to be a determining factor in what clothes you can or cannot wear? Every child should be able to shine just like whatever type of star they want to! Just like they can choose to be whomever they wish on stage! ...What? ...WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WANTS TO BAN DISABLED KIDS FROM THEATER AND CHOIR -- “

And, “Hmph, if she thinks my child’s stimming is disruptive to the class, then perhaps she should keep tighter reigns on her own child, at least until he stops disrespecting me and the other staff at every possible opportunity! ...Oh, maybe that was a bit harsh...”

Except it isn’t too harsh. At all. And, as these semiweekly discussions get more and more heated, Sans starts doing more research and paying more attention and speaking up more and being a more active participant in general, and suddenly OH NO, HE CARES ABOUT THIS. HE ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT THIS. HE FEELS SOME KIND OF very faint and vague but still present PASSION ABOUT THIS.

(That passion being the passion he has for casually tearing Linda’s arguments down in front of the whole PTA with a huge shit-eating grin on her face while the few other members who are actually on his side try and fail to stifle their laughter in the background. It’s like stand-up comedy, but twenty times better.)

So, basically, Sans is sinking deeper and deeper into the PTA rabbit hole, but he still hasn’t reached the level of really hating Linda or Helen or anyone, and he still hasn’t said a single thing that’s technically an insult. He doesn’t think they’re reprehensible people so much as he thinks they’re really, really stupid and have no idea what’s best for their kids.

And then, one day, both he and Linda get called into the (Vice?) Principal’s office, and when they walk in Frisk and Linda’s kid are both there. Frisk looks close to tears, and Linda’s kid -- we’ll call him Timmy -- doesn’t look much better.

The (Vice?) Principal (whichever one isn’t Toriel) explains that Timmy had been mercilessly bullying Frisk, and when a teacher intervened he refused to stop, so they were both sent to the office, and Sans was Frisk’s only available guardian.

Naturally, Sans is already on edge, because A) Linda is there, and as much as he doesn’t despise her yet, he’s really not up for dealing with her bullshit right now, B) why the hell did Frisk get sent to the office? For being bullied? and C) He doesn’t like it when people bully his kid. Not that he’s nearly as protective of Frisk as he is of, say, Papyrus, but he has a vested interest in their happiness, and he doesn’t take kindly to random kids bullying them to the point of tears.

But Sans keeps his cool and just slinks into the chair next to Frisk, giving them a comforting shoulder squeeze after glancing at them to make sure they didn’t mind being touched right now. Linda, on the other hand, is absolutely outraged -- not because her child was bullying another child, mind you, but because he got in trouble for it.

And Sans’ mind is just. Blown. In a very bad way. Because, okay, it’s one thing to be dumb enough to convince yourself that vaccines are bad for your kid, and it’s another thing entirely to get pissed when your kid gets in trouble for their own actions. I mean, it wasn’t like she was saying Timmy didn’t do it -- she didn’t seem surprised to hear of his bullying habits at all, as a matter of fact -- she was just saying that he shouldn’t have gotten in trouble for it.

So, naturally, Sans responds in his usual carefree, subtly scathing manner, but Linda is having none of it. She turns around and marches up to Firsk and just starts yelling -- not adressing them, but talking about them as if they weren’t in the room and saying some pretty awful things.

Sans’ anger is already starting to flare, but, before he can act on it or supress it, Frisk starts to panic and flap their hands, and Linda loudly snaps “Quiet hands!” This only upsets Frisk more, and their stimming intensifies -- they’re actually crying now, which is saying a lot, because Frisk doesn’t cry very often, and he’s seen them in some situations that definitely warranted tears --

And Linda reached out and grabs Frisk’s hands, forcibly holding them at their sides.

Now, as I said earlier, Sans isn’t as protective of Frisk as he is of Papyrus, but they’re definitely number two on his list, and Linda is very, very low on the list. And now even lower. And she is physically preventing Frisk from comforting themselves (so this is what quiet hands is), and, for the first time in years, he’s happy; his friends -- his family is happy, and he actually CARES about something again, and everything is going right for once in his goddamned life, and like HELL is he gonna let some privelaged suburban soccer mom take that away from them.

No one ever spoke again of the incident in the (Vice?) Principal’s office, but suffice it to say that Linda didn’t lay hands on Sans’ kid ever, ever again.

And that’s the story of how Sans went from not giving a shit about anything to being a PTA Legend for years to come.

[gracieisnotmuchofawriter]

Process of Getting Closer II

I don’t know what Jude is, they’re a person I like and that’s all that matters, fuck it.

  It’s the first weekend I haven’t taken my painkillers since school started. The loneliness can leave me paralyzed and wanting to just get away. But Jude is helping a lot, even if they don’t know it, and even if it’s just the first weekend of knowing them.

  Today, we decided to sit outside at this bench just outside of the resident building. We got food from a Taco Bell from down the street, what we ate is irrelevant, but we sat at the bench, the sun setting in front of us. Everything from cars to kids to the architecture shined red and orange, the sky was a washed out blue from the brightness of the sun.

  It was another humid day, the guys and the girls walked around in tank tops, denim shorts, and basketball shorts. Some kids from network administration wore khaki shorts with their polo shirts tucked all the way in. Then you have the few chubbier guys wearing whole ass sweaters, I can relate kinda, I mean, I was wearing a very thin shawl-cardigan-like-thingy even though the air was so fucking thick. Then the amazing, top-notch goth girl in our classes wore a black sweater with a design she made herself, skinny jeans with fishnets visible from the torn slits at the sides. She’s also a ginger. She said hi to us when she went into the resident hall.

  “So what do you think of college?” Jude asked, they take a sip of their drink, looking at me through squinted eyes.

  “It’s okay, I really like how quiet it gets compared to my house, but then I also hate it.” My house isn’t loud per se, it’s just someone’s always up, doing something. I think I’m just used to the noise.

  “You just used to the noise?” They ask, seemingly reading my mind.

  “Yeah, I try to sleep with my computer on, but I’m afraid I’m gonna break it from doing that.” I say, the time my Xbox’s fans stopped cooling everything ran through my head.

  “My roommate has an unopened thirty-two inch for sale, she only wants like seventy bucks.” They said, but I was more interested in something else, “Okay, maybe saying ‘ONLY’ is a bit much considering it’s still seventy dollars and we’re broke college kids.”

  “So your roommates a girl?” I ask, hoping to find an answer.

  “Yeah, they accepted my application late since I wanted to be an RA, or a resident assistant. I got accepted to be one so they just put me up in the last available RA unit. It just happened to be with girls.” Jude shrugs, they take a bite of their food.

  “Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, a little irresponsible?” I said, taking a drink of my teal sugar water.

  “Yeah, I guess, but I got a bedroom and a bathroom all to myself, I mean, you saw it, would you care if you had all that?” They say with a shrug.

  “You’re right, what’s it like being an RA?” I ask, Jude’s face turns a bright, intense orange as the evening slips away.

  “Looking forward to having no debt at the end of this, but honestly, I wish the school didn’t have a three-strike rule when students get locked out of their dorms. It gets really boring sometimes.” Jude says, taking another sip from their drink.

  “See anything bad happen?” I asked, long forgotten are the basis of Jude’s sex.

  “Like a woman getting roofied or whatever? Nah, guys around here are good boys, thank God.” Jude takes another bite, “Though, I do know some guys around here have anger problems.

   “Apparently, every summer they have to repair some drywall that was sunken in.” Jude shrugs, sipping on her drink.

  “So how are you roommates? Anyone giving you any problems or what’s up? I’m bored.” Jude says as they turn to me, the shadows become sharp and defined from the waning golden hour.

  “Asha forgets her keys a lot...” I say, last weekend, both Saturday and Sunday she called me to let her in after she got off work.

  “Asha? Asha Torres?” Jude says, their voice is filled with curiosity and wonder, I nod at them.

  “Asha paid that third strike fine three times already.” Jude says chuckling.

  “She has a job, so it’s probably no big deal to her, or at least until last weekend.” I say, remembering my food, I take a bite and sip of my fizzy syrup.

  “What does she study?” Jude asked, the orange glow still shimmered off of their face.

  “Hospitality management I think? I don’t know, she’s really into customer service for some reason.” I say, I start passively sipping on my pop, my blood thickens like a model after she makes it big.

  “Explains why she’s so cordial, where does she work?” Jude asks.

  “Hostel One? It’s by the storage place in the Commons, I think.” I say, visualizing the hotel when her and I went to the mall, before my dependency started.

  After a while, the air wasn’t so heavy anymore, the breeze was cool and it made my armpits and boobs less sticky. My face still felt like a grilled cheese sandwich, though. Jude’s face still glowed in the twilight, they were really pretty and handsome. I was exhausted though, my cravings were getting bad, my leg started bouncing and I felt that empty frustration in my stomach. I put my head back in the bench, my hair hung off the back. A gnawing question started to eat away at the back of my neck.

  “Are you gay?” I ask, in a way I regretted it, it felt like it wasn’t any of my business, but then how do you talk about your roommates for an entire weekend?

  “I like how vague the term queer is these days, I fool around with anyone I fancy.” They say matter-of-fact-ly.

  “I thought it was mean to call someone that.” I said as I counted the stars that came into view above me.

  “Not anymore, it’s a word that’s kind of been saved by queers like me.” Jude says, snickering.

  I giggle a bit, they join me, I look over at them and they sit back, same as me, our eyes meet. ‘This feeling is amazing.’ I think.

  “So what kinda genitals are you into?” Jude says, their smile seems genuine, but teasing.

  “Big ones, small ones, innies.” I start giggling again, Jude snickers before they burst into an intense giggle fit.

   “What a way to say vagina.” Jude says, their voice trailing off.

   “I don’t really know what I like, to be honest.” I clarify. There weren’t a lot of people I liked that way in high school, maybe just one person.

   “That’s fine, anyone you crush on in high school or maybe here?” Jude asks, I had a feeling that they were fishing for me to respond positively, but then I don’t really know.

   “I had a bit of relationship develop with this one guy in my choir class.” I think back to this time, before I broke my ankle, before I was prescribed quick-release Oxycodone, before now.

   “He was just a very gentle guy, in a school where most guys were kinda abrasive and annoying, he seemed different.” I say, thinking back to that messy red hair, that sharp jawline, those freckles.

   “We met at this rehearsal, he was a baritone bass, I was a mezzo soprano, it was a team-building exercise to help us find the same notes.” The trees that line the sidewalk rustle in the mild breeze, leaves fall to the ground, sliding across the concrete, I continue,

   “To keep it short, the teacher wasn’t happy with the fact that we both were just mouthing the songs, she also didn’t like that we laughed when we realized we were both doing it.” I chuckle, the choir teacher was incredibly pale. Watching her chest and cheeks and forehead turn the color of a tomato was great.

   “Then—“ I don’t want Jude to know how hurt I still am, “he moved to a different city, all of his friends and I lost touch with him.” I didn’t want to tell Jude the part where he kept texting his friends, talking to them on this community-builder app called Discord or whatever. When his friends found out he hadn’t talked to me since he left—it had been a year at that point—they started to ignore him. I’m not really sure if they actually did, though.

   “You miss him, don’t you?” Jude asks, their voice is gentle, understanding even.

   “I miss everyone I lost touch with.” I turn my head, looking at Jude’s handsome face. A thought barged into my head as I sat there watching them. ‘What’s stopping them from doing the same?’ I try to ignore it, but Jude’s interest reminds me of Robin, they almost look and dress the same, if Robin had white hair, bigger eyes and fuller lips, Jesus they could be twins.

   “You know too much now, I think I have to kill you.” My voice is soft and frank, I look at them with puckered lips and I hope my eyes were puppy-like enough.

   Jude’s face crinkles up into laughter. I join them.

I have a canvas next to my desk, I used stencils I bought at Michael’s when I learned about Ed Ruscha last month. I did a drip painting on another square of canvas. It was a layered monstrosity of browns, blacks, dark greens and white. I grabbed a silver marker and began coloring the stencils. In Futura Bold, all it said was, “Jude Is Temporary”.

   The thoughts of Jude leaving my life was already unbearable. As the time between when we picked up and went back to our rooms to now, all I can think of is that pill bottle. It said ‘Take (1) as needed’, but I haven’t been listening lately. I tried distracting myself from the horrid thought of Jude getting tired of me, but it was strangling me. It even informed what was supposed to be a comforting message. I just really need a way to get out of this headspace. I contemplate calling my aunt and asking to come home for a few days, just so I would be out of the way of my painkillers. I thought about walking up to her, hugging her and telling her I’m sorry for disappointing her so much. Then I’d confess to abusing my painkillers.

   “Hey Amber, wanna go out and get dinner—, that’s fucking cool.” Asha says, pointing at my painting.

Amber