#it just flows in such a natural and awkward and authentic way it makes me want to peel off my skin

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Are people really saying Maya Erskine and Donald Glover don't have chemistry? Are they blind? Have they never spoken to another person?

[imminentinertia]

How to get me to nope the fuck out of a fic part 172: Doing Profanity Wrong

Please don't. I'm begging here. I'll do it Ray style if it helps.

First, let's talk a bit about types of profanity. Just so you know, there will be a bit of vulgar language here (in case that first "fuck" in the title of the post didn't turn you off already).

I'm not going into the functions of profanity, the why we use it and how we use it to achieve our goals for using it, Steven Pinker's The Stuff of Thought is a good starting point for functions if you're interested. What I'm most interested in right now is the what.

The what is often a taboo of some sort, like mocking something sacred, referring to body parts that are considered filthy, fears of invoking dangerous situations like illness or natural disasters. The words used can be grouped into these categories*:

Sex

Religion

Bodily functions

Disease

(Derogatory terms may be considered a function, the why is to cause harm, but it tends to contain terms that don't always belong in the four other categories, and those four tend to bleed into this. I consider it a fifth category of types of words)

Languages and cultures don't use these categories in the same ways. For instance, there's very little left of disease swearing in English ("a pox on you" sounds just a tiny bit outdated, wouldn't you say) but it's alive and kicking in Danish (all word constructions with the word "kraft" refers to cancer, and there are a lot of those constructions). The British Isles and Denmark are pretty close geographically and not enormously different culturally, but the swearing takes different routes.

English uses a hell of a lot of religious profanity. East and South East Asian languages, not so much. There are examples, like mara (まら), a quite rude Japanese word for dick that has its root in the demon Mara (I don't know the precise etymology, but it's possible it has to do with temptation), but it's not anywhere near as prevalent as in Christianity-heavy cultures.

Which means that "for Buddha's sake" does not, I repeat NOT, work as local colour swearing. At. All.

It really is not a problem if you write an English profanity in an English sentence, in your English fic set in a culture that isn't in the Anglosphere. Don't worry about it - the point is that the story needs to flow well, and trying to fit in unfamiliar swearing is likely to end up stiff and awkward.

What you might want to think about is the categories. It's not that E/SE Asians never say "oh my God" or "fuck" in English, we who have other mother tongues often like a bit of English profanity mixed in with our native language, but the patterns for when to swear in English may be different.

So if you pay a bit of attention to how the shows are translated and what swearing choices are made (disregard the bowdlerised translations on fudging IQIYI entirely) and what category the characters seem to use the most, it becomes easier to make the story flow well without anglofying it too much (brimming with "oh my God") or stumbling in asiafying your own language ("oh my Buddha").

Sex and bodily functions tend to be safe bets because there are a number of taboos regarding both in so many cultures they're probably near-universal and only differs in exactly how they're used, but trying to make that super authentic for the source language and culture doesn't necessarily fit well into the language you're writing.

In other words, "shit" and "fuck" and such are likely to work fine for anything.

Also, there are a number of ways to be rude as fuck without uttering a single vulgar word. You can be rude while speaking and acting very politely, even. That's not something that's easy to show in a fic, it's easier to tell it ("he's speaking very politely yet it's the rudest thing she's ever heard"). Not to mention that it's easy to get it wrong when it's a culture you don't know extremely well, so a little vague telling is likely to make your story smoother than a detailed description of a rudeness situation.

The point is that one of the characters is rude to another, and that can be communicated well to the readers in several ways.

*Sources what sources. Actually there are lots of sources, but they tend to leave out disease. This is how I categorise and I'm sure there are researchers who agree with me, somewhere.

[themuse-if]

Another 20 (or so) Questions with Karla Reyes

Interviewer: Welcome to another installment of our character interviews, where we dive deep into the lives and minds of our favorite cast members of The Muse. Today, we have Karla Reyes with us, our musically inclined painter. Karla, thank you for joining us. Could you start by telling us what made you want to pursue Studio Arts?

Karla: Hey, thanks for having me. So you know how they always have kids finger painting in preschool, well that was my favorite part of every day. As I got older and was allowed to just select an elective I always chose art. My high school art teacher Mr. Davis was really cool. He always had music playing in class, usually just instrumental stuff, but the music always fit the vibe and really influenced my work.

Interviewer: Describe your art, particularly your watercolor work, in your own words.

Karla: *gets thoughtful* Mmm I enjoy movement and the human form. The way that color can really set the tone, like the image could be the same, but if I use a different color palette it completely changes the direction of the piece. And music, usually my palette is found in songs. The tone provides me an array of colors and the rhythm gives the piece movement. Does that make sense?

Interviewer: I think so. How do you want to be seen by others?

Karla: I want to be seen as someone who is...natural. Like I hope people see who I am authentically. I'm a big believer in letting things play out and just existing in a way that isn't forced.

Interviewer: So just very go with the flow, I see. And how do you want your art to be seen by others?

Karla: Ok...that's not really easy to answer. Obviously everyone interprets art differently, as they should, but I think all I can ask for is that they feel something. I don't ever want someone to see my work and just think aww how pretty, I want them so actually feel something. It could be thought provoking, sensual, dark, lively, humorous. I just want people to see more than a beautiful object, I want them to take something away from it.

Interviewer: Of course, no artist wants people to view their work in a shallow way. What traits do you value most in a friend?

Karla: I'm pretty relaxed so I am usually drawn to people who are more outgoing. As long as someone has a good vibe and they're drama free then I think we can be friends.

Interviewer: Sounds simple enough. What is your latest obsession?

Karla: Nothing new really just the usual. I've been working on a new collection centered around love and heartache. It's not for an assignment or anything, I'm just trying to work through some stuff and painting is my favorite outlet.

Interviewer: You've told me some things you look for in a friend, but could you describe your ideal best friend?

Karla: Someone who is creative and outgoing, who shares my love for art and music. I value honesty and authenticity in a friend, someone that I feel comfortable with. It should be natural and effortless.

Interviewer: And what about your ideal partner?

Karla: *sighs* Should have seen that one coming. Usually I go for people that are sweet and bubbly. I'm a bit more chill and I just find people like that really refreshing, like rain on a hot summer day.

Interviewer: Aww that's actually really cute. What was your first kiss like?

Karla: It was pretty normal a quick peck with my best friend. We were in middle school and it was awkward we never talked about it after.

Interviewer: And have you ever been in love?

Karla: Oh god...I really hate this question. Yes I have been in love. I don't really want to go into detail.

Interviewer: Ok then, when was your last relationship, and why did it end?

Karla: Come on. You're killing me here. As I'm sure you already know I broke up with Faye at the end of last spring semester. It wasn't because I didn't love her or that she stopped loving me. It just all felt too complicated and neither of us are really good with conflict. I miss her like hell though, but I think this space is for the best. Like I wish we could have made it work, but I think we both just need some time to focus on ourselves.

Interviewer: I feel like you only gave me half an answer, but I won't press you I can tell you would prefer not to go into to much detail. Ok next question. What’s your ideal Friday night?

Karla: My ideal Friday night is pretty simple, friends, food, and live music. Just a nice night surrounded by my favorite things.

Interviewer: What’s the last song you listened to?

Karla: "Young Love" by Cleo Sol.

Interviewer: How do you behave in a relationship?

Karla: I try to be open and communicative, but as I've learned I really struggle with conflict. It's hard for me to 100% trust my partner if I feel like that trust has been broken. Honestly I just don't like drama, I kind of shut down if things start to feel off.

Interviewer: Interesting. Do you approach those you’re interested in or let them come to you?

Karla: It depends on the situation. I'm open to both approaches, but I think it's important to be genuine and authentic in any interaction.

Interviewer: What is your biggest pet peeve?

Karla: I can't stand people who are arrogant or disrespectful. I believe in treating others with kindness and respect.

Interviewer: What do you notice first about a person?

Karla: *chuckle and tucks her hair behind her ear* Their laugh. Some people laugh with their who body while others let out just a tiny giggle. I dunno I feel like you can tell a lot about a person by how they express their joy.

Interviewer: Aww that's really cute, and so true. Ok time for our last question. What did you dream about last night?

Karla: *gets a twinkle in their eye* Honestly I'd rather not say. Dreams can be very personal...if you know what I mean. *chuckles* So I'll just let you use your imagination.

Interviewer: *clears their throat* Oh uh, I see. Well that's all the time we have for today. Thank you so much for coming in and sharing more of your story with us!

[mbti-enemies]

jdhsjsjs just can't help but to say this to both of you guys cause literally the blog has made my day better :p

(this is just my observation of people around me with the same types, but i think it fits you two as well!!)

infj feels like the gentle warm feeling when you're near a fireplace, but get too close and you might just burn (great being with them but too much n u might actually burst out lol or maybe it's just me having low social battery). i think infjs have like the bestest of hugs and head pats!! very warm and full of comfort, sometimes i feel like hugging and also patting infjs out there cause i think you all are just a tad bit stressful with everything in life haha <3

while for intj, it's like being in a cold room with AC on, very cold but you definitely can find comfort in there although you do need a blanket cause it's cool but too cold sometimes. i always have a feeling that they're just warm in general (like their aura?? or just smth you instinctively feel when being with someone) if you could stand their err, coldness? like the warmth you feel when you're beside someone you like or comfortable with <3

take these two observations as compliments! i mean them, you both are truly amazing and i feel bad not sending an ask to at least say that :)) and all the people with these types as well ofc!! if they don't match with either of you, err, just know that you both are equally a great person, thanks for making these few days of mine better!!

(btw can you tell that i'm not close with the intj? TT i wanna get close but like i'm so awkward and it's just like... should i say smth when i'm alone with them???)

INTJ: First of all you pretty much made our day through this ask alone...glad to hear that our humble blog can make your day even just a little bit better and thank you for those rather complimentary observations- I must say you've pretty much captured the essences in the most charming way possible. (I can imagine infj being all warm and happy while reading your description- also love the head pats mention I'm gonna head pat infj next time i see her

Also totally go for it with the intj! It's completely normal to feel a bit nervous, but here's my advice: just be yourself. Seriously, don't too hard or try to be someone you're not. INTJs tend to look for authenticity, and they truly appreciate it when someone is comfortable enough to just be themselves. So go ahead, embrace your true self and let the conversation flow naturally- based of this message alone I'd say you're a pretty great person who anyone would be lucky enough to know, let alone befriend

[supplement-sensation]

Mastering the Art of Subtle Seduction: A Review of Stealth Attraction Digital Membership Area

I've always felt a little out of my depth in the dating world. Pick-up lines felt cheesy, and forced conversations left me feeling awkward. That's when I stumbled upon Stealth Attraction Digital, a membership program that promised a different approach to attraction – one based on subtlety and finesse. Intrigued, I decided to give it a go, and let me tell you, it's been a game-changer.

Insights into the Psychology of Attraction

Unlike other dating programs that focus on superficial tactics, Stealth Attraction dives deep into the psychology of attraction. Through a series of well-written guides by industry experts, I gained a newfound understanding of what makes people tick. I learned about nonverbal communication, body language, and how to build genuine rapport. This knowledge helped me move away from manipulative tactics and focus on creating a natural connection.

Real-Life Examples Make Learning Actionable

The program doesn't just throw theory at you; it equips you with practical tools you can use in real-life situations. The video tutorials are a standout feature. Watching real-life demonstrations of the techniques being used allowed me to see exactly how to implement each strategy with confidence. It wasn't just about "what" to do, but also "how" to do it in a way that felt natural and authentic.

Constant Access to Support and Resources

One of the biggest advantages of the digital format is the constant access to materials. Unlike attending a one-off seminar, Stealth Attraction membership gives you 24/7 access to all the resources. I found myself revisiting certain modules and articles whenever I needed a refresher or felt stuck. The program also boasts an active online community where members can share experiences and ask questions. This sense of camaraderie and support was invaluable on my journey.

A Focus on Building Genuine Connections

Perhaps the most refreshing aspect of Stealth Attraction is its emphasis on building genuine connections. It's not about mind games or manipulating people. It's about understanding human psychology and using that knowledge to create an environment where attraction can blossom organically. Since joining, I've noticed a shift in my interactions. Conversations flow more naturally, and I feel more confident in my ability to connect with people on a deeper level.

Investing in Yourself: Worth Every Penny

While there are certainly free resources available on dating and attraction, the quality and depth of information offered by Stealth Attraction Digital is unmatched. The combination of in-depth written guides, real-life video demonstrations, and a supportive online community makes it a well-rounded program. If you're looking to improve your dating life and build genuine connections, then Stealth Attraction Digital is definitely worth the investment. It's helped me shed my awkwardness, build confidence, and approach dating with a newfound sense of self-assuredness.

[hollyoxleylevel6]

How to start conversations at university

Starting conversations with strangers can be daunting. Definitely when you're in a new environment. When I started university I was anxious and nervous that I wouldn't make friends. This anxiety only worsened when I could not find any helpful guides on the internet or at my university's freshers fair.

However, during my tutorial Rich showed me a website that gives students tips on how to start talking to people when you arrive at university. I found this really informative and gave a good insight on why the questions would help you get to know someone. I found this article helped me to see how I could use my conversations around islands to help students more. By using this to give the conversation context, I think this will help first year university students see that starting conversations with people shouldn't be scary because it can be fun and natural.

The quiet moments before class can be awkward and feel scary but it's the best time to start talking to people on your course (Perkins, 2022). Nobody likes that silence but is too scared to break it. Introducing yourself to the person you sit next to can make that time more comfortable and less daunting. Similarly, staying back a bit after class ends. This will allow you to discuss the topic of the class and even help each other by exchanging notes. Getting to know your peers can be as simple as asking them what they thought of the class.

Start by simply introducing yourself and asking for their name. However, when asking their name their are two key tips to remembering it: Repeat it back to them, this will also make sure you can pronounce it correctly, and don't plan what you are going to say next whilst they are introducing themselves (Perkins, 2022). Remembering someones name will instantly give them a good impression of you.

When introducing yourself to someone, make sure you are being authentic (Perkins, 2022). Acting like someone else or how you think you should act to be liked will only make it confusing for other and may even lead to others not wanting to get to know you. If they are talking to you then they generally want to get to know the real you.

Finally, the biggest tip I found in this article is to be curious (Perkins, 2022). The best way to get to know someone is asking questions. They don't need to be serious and factual. They can be fun little questions such as what animal they like, but asking why can make the conversation flow naturally.

Furthermore, through my own experience I have found that some things that you may not think of can be the easiest way to get to know people. Spend time in your flat's communal area (or the communal areas of the building if you live in a studio), can be an easy way to start to get to know your flatmates. Inviting people for a coffee or lunch after class or even just exchanging website and books that may help with the class. But the main thing to remember is that you don't need to go on nights out to make friends.

In my first year I did not like to drink so I isolated myself because I found that my peers and flatmates were going out and I didn't want to. However, this is not the only way to get to know people and make friends. Inviting people to events or even saying yes when someone asks if you want to go shopping can make it easier to get to know someone than going on a night out.

However, the key thing to remember is you can make friends at any time. Don't put pressure on yourself to make friends in the first few months. Let it happen naturally and you'll find the friends who will support you and be the people you stay close with.

Perkins, C. (2022). How to Start a Conversation: Tips for Your First Semester. T_Bird Nation Blog. [Online]. 24 October. Available from: https://www.suu.edu/blog/2022/10/conversation-starters.html. [Accessed 22 November 2023] 

[journalarchive]

67. 11/29/22

Started with the Journal and She's On The Money new episodes, top of the lineup. Moved down to Making Space after that and started listening to that but didn't get too far into it before changing to something else, I can't remember. Listen to 0 to Travel but only like a fourth of it. I really wanted to listen to the content that he advertised but it's just so difficult because the way he goes about the interviews is just cringy it can get awkward with the questions and I just could not get through it. So I moved on to Financial Feminist and realize that she has a really natural flow to her interviews. She's very thoughtful with her questions. She comes across as just a good listener. She will ask questions that seem structured and scripted but then there are other questions where you know she she just picked up on something from the conversation organically and she'll ask another question based on what she picked up on. She has a way of like throwing it seamlessly into her other questions. And I did not realize that she did that so well until I listened to these other podcasts that don't do it so well.

I think after lunch I'll get into listening to a book or some music. I'm finished the night out possibly with the art of a good conversation which is what I'm reading currently or I may move on to another book I did load out another book that I'm interested in starting soon.

Oh and I realized that I forgot I listened to the new episode of DayLuna. I'm liking them less and less the more I listen to them. Is something sort of scare me and the way they go about everything they talk about but at the same time it's weird they're just like we want to be so authentic and so ...authentic and yet it comes across as super unauthentic and preachy. Maybe it's just the preachy-ness of it of that I'm not into.

[tippedbykreider]

talk some sense to me | j. oleksiak

Word count: 26.2k Warnings: mutual pining, arguing, sex Author’s note: Childhood best friends to lovers so frustrating you’ll want to slap them both. This fic is mostly unchanged apart from a few additional bits here and there (maybe added another 1k total). Fic title is from ‘I Found’ by Amber Run Summary: True friends are hard to find and harder to keep but when a friendship like the one Jamie and Leo share withstands the test of time, it’s clear that there’s something else there. Can two people who know each other better than anyone else be honest with themselves and face down what has always been there between them?

A moment.

That’s all it takes.

One moment that sits like a void and one moment that can change everything, whichever way it goes. This was such a moment, so big that it felt like entire galaxies could fit inside of it and still leave room for more. He waits for her to speak for what feels like forever while she stands on a knife edge, knowing that whatever words come out of her mouth will rearrange both of their lives in ways that they understood would make it impossible to return to how things were not even ten minutes ago.

Yes, it’s a moment that’s terrifying in every conceivable way.

But it’s theirs.

*

Leonora Harris had lived in Toronto, Ontario for her entire life and couldn’t ever imagine herself being anywhere else. This was something that had her parents scratching their heads on more than one occasion. You see, Bill and Diana had always believed that their daughter would spread her wings and blaze her own path in the world and while they were correct in that assumption, they’d assumed that she’d be doing it somewhere a bit more exotic. There were a lot of things that kept Leonora in the city, one of those things was a huge sense of belonging and a feeling of home that she wasn’t sure she would find anywhere else, another was landing the job of her dreams at the Royal Ontario Museum after finishing university. But perhaps the biggest reason and the reason that she would never allow herself to admit, was because Toronto was the place her best friend also called home, even if it was only for three months out of the year.

True friends are hard to come by and even harder to keep, that’s why people never had an abundance of ‘old friends’, so when a friendship like the one Leonora shared with Jamie Oleksiak comes along, it’s worth sticking around for. Jamie had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. The memory of their first interaction was now so old that the minor details had started to get a little fuzzy around the edges, but one thing that had remained the same and would always remain the same was the indescribable warmth that memory brought that would flicker in her stomach like the first sparks of a bonfire, before it crawled through her skin until it felt like she was glowing all over.

They’d been four years old, she’d remembered, and embarking on their first day of kindergarten. Jamie had been wearing dungarees that much she was sure of and his hair was a chaotically endearing mop of blonde curls but she couldn’t quite remember if the sweatshirt he’d been wearing was red or blue, not that it mattered, of course. She remembered seeing a quiet flicker in his eyes that she later understood to have been fear and had offered him the biggest smile she could muster.

That simple gesture, that smile, is what had made Jamie find his courage and give her a toothy grin back after he’d placed his raincoat on the peg. It was also what had him waiting for her to do the same instead of running along into the playroom to find a quiet corner for himself. If anyone asked Jamie what he remembered the most vividly from that day he would always tell them the same thing:

‘Her eyes. Her eyes and that smile.’

He also remembered how the butterflies fluttered in his stomach as Leonora approached him, all bright green eyes and thick wavy brown hair that had been put into bunches, presumably by her mother. Even years later, Jamie still wasn’t quite sure how he even found his voice but he was sure, even at the tender age of four years old, that the girl in front of him was going to be his friend. No, his best friend and so with a shy smile and a quiet voice he said, “My name’s Jamieson but you can call me Jamie.”

“I’m Leonora,” she replied with a confidence that far exceeded her age.

Jamie’s brow had furrowed at that and he’d taken to chewing on his bottom lip.

“Leo- Leono-,” he gave a frustrated little sigh as he tried to roll his tongue around her name and failed. “Can I call you Leo?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “You can call me Leo.”

They’d spent the rest of that morning at the drawing table and neither Leo nor Jamie would be able to tell you exactly what they’d talked about all those years ago, but Leo distinctly remembers sitting next to Jamie while they ate lunch and after he’d learned that strawberries were Leo’s favourite fruit, Jamie had proceeded to give her exactly half of his, counting them out one by one until they both had an equal pile in front of them. He would do that every single time he had strawberries and Leo would do the same for him. They would even do this on the days where they both had strawberries, so their piles would consist of half of Jamie’s and half of Leo’s because ‘friends should always share’.

 That mantra was one that they would carry all through their childhood, from elementary school right until the end of high school and even beyond that. It wasn’t just strawberries that he shared with her either, it was near enough everything. What was Jamie’s was Leo’s and what was Leo’s was Jamie’s, that’s just how things were and it extended beyond the material. They shared happiness and disappointments, highs and lows but perhaps the most special thing that they shared was the joy of being able to watch each other find their identities. Jamie had known about Leo’s confidence from the day he met her and it was something that had only grown and blossomed as time went on. He had always admired how sure of herself she was, even as a small child and as she entered her teenage years, Jamie began to understand just how unapologetically authentic she was. It always knocked him back a bit, how outspoken she could be and how she was never afraid to say what she really meant. Even now, more than two decades later, it still had the ability to knock the air out of his lungs.

Jamie had always been laid back and a little bit shy, awkward even. It was something that he’d carried around with him throughout his life, particularly growing up. He sometimes found it hard to open up around people he didn’t know (although anyone would tell you that once he felt truly comfortable it could be difficult to shut him up) and he was often content to go with the flow. On paper, it could have seemed like Leo and Jamie would drive each other up the wall, with Leo’s feistiness contradicting Jamie’s relaxed nature. Yes, they were opposites in every way, but much like fire and water the two of them found ways to create balance and harmony.

Jamie had always felt like he could truly be himself around Leo and that came from not just a place of familiarity, but also of acceptance. She accepted him as he was despite his shyness and despite the fact that he wasn’t as good with words as she was, but more than that, she built him up and encouraged him in everything he did and that is what made it so easy for Jamie to be open with her, not just about his anxieties and the general worries that your formative years bring, but about everything else too. This was something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Richard and Alison, Jamie’s parents, who couldn’t help but be overjoyed by the spark of confidence their son had whenever he was around the girl with the free and easy laugh and the keen eyes. They welcomed her into their family much in the same way Bill and Diana had welcomed Jamie into theirs and the gruesome twosome (as their families would affectionately call them) were together more often than they were not. It didn’t matter whether they were sitting quietly studying or yelling as they engaged in an overly-competitive game of Crash Team Racing in which Leo would seize and relish the opportunity to gang up on Jamie with his sisters, the bond between them both was clear as day to anyone who knew them and only seemed to strengthen as the years rolled by.

 Their after school routine had remained the same throughout the years and usually consisted of going to one of their houses and sitting in relative silence while they completed their homework, helping each other whenever the need arose. As they got older they would retreat upstairs and spend the time before the other would leave to go home for dinner listening to music and swapping mixtape CDs they’d burned for each other. It was one of those CDs from Jamie that had introduced her to TOOL at the age of sixteen and they had quickly become one of her favourite bands, even still to this day and she always felt a warm kind of fondness spread through her body and resonate in her chest whenever she listened to them, the memory of her first exposure to them still clear in her mind as if it had only been yesterday. She had been laid on her bedroom floor with her legs resting up on the bed and Jamie’s rolled up hoodie under her head as a makeshift pillow, a conscious decision on her part despite being offered one of the pillows off her bed. Truthfully, the fluffy down pillow Jamie had suggested would have been a far comfier option but his hoodie was still warm from where it had been on his body not a half-hour earlier and smelled just like his deodorant and shower-gel and, well, like Jamie and that in itself evoked a kind of softness and comfort within Leo that the pillows on her bed couldn’t begin to replicate, although she’d never admit that out loud to him, of course.

“Okay, so I don’t know if you’ve heard of these before but seriously Leo, they’re fire.”

Jamie was leaning halfway over her from his position on the bed as he placed the cd into her stereo. She squinted at him slightly, unsure of exactly when he’d had this particular growth spurt that made him suddenly look comically large on her double bed.

“What genre?” Leo asked as she watched him settle back against her pillows, his feet hanging off the end of her bed by a hair.

“Prog rock,” he replied, giving Leo a questioning look and a laugh as she audibly groaned. “What?”

“Duh? Remember when your dad made us listen to Rush?”

“This is better, I promise,” Jamie grinned as he pressed play on the small remote in his hand.

“Better be.”

Leo closed her eyes and listened as the first muted notes filtered through the speakers of her stereo followed by a beautifully haunting male voice.

‘So familiar and overwhelmingly warm This one, this form I hold now

Embracing you, this reality here This one, this form I hold now, so Wide eyed and hopeful

Wide eyed and hopefully wild’

To this day Leo can still remember the feeling of something stirring within her chest, an awakening almost, as she connected with the lyrics and the intricate melodies and changing time signatures, somehow made stronger by the fact that Jamie was sharing this with her, which meant that whatever the music was making her feel, Jamie must have felt it too. She let herself get completely lost in the melodies and found herself contemplating the meanings behind the words and allowed them to settle in her bones. She opened her eyes as the track finished to find Jamie watching her with an expectant smile on his face, blue eyes shining with something unspoken that she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Leo said softly. “Yeah, really good, actually. What did you say this band was called?”

“Tool and when I was reading up on them I found out they’ve been around for years, like since we were born. I found a few of their albums at the second-hand store, you can borrow them if you want.”

Leo looked at Jamie for a breath, a gentle smile playing on her lips and a thoughtful gleam in her eye, before deciding to move from her position on the floor to squeeze onto her bed with him as the next song on the cd began to play. Jamie shifted slightly to accommodate her and wrapped his arms tightly around her back to pull her into him. It wasn’t the first time that they’d laid like that together, nor would it be the last, but there was a flicker of a feeling in Jamie’s chest as he allowed his senses to really come into focus. It was the soft, almost hypnotic beat of the music in the room, it was the smell of pineapple and coconut from Leo’s shampoo that had become her signature scent but above that it was the way in which his breathing followed the same ebb and flow of hers without him even being conscious of it. It was a sense of unity that he wouldn’t truly understand until he was much older but more than all of that it was being lost in this moment with her.

 Life continued much as it had before but the start of their final year in high school brought about a series of changes for the duo. Jamie was excelling at hockey and there was a real sense of well-placed optimism that his abilities on the ice would take him far. While he didn’t have a definitive plan (keen to keep the majority of his focus on his studies) he knew that there were going to be some tough decisions ahead. Leo was all too aware of the very real possibility that her best friend could be moving away but she tried not to dwell on it too much to keep the tightness in her chest at bay, focusing instead on attaining the grades she needed to attend the University of Toronto to study History. Their final school year also brought a change in the form of a girlfriend for Jamie and while Leo made every effort to befriend Sarah and give her the benefit of the doubt, she knew that Sarah had a real problem with her and her friendship with Jamie. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the girl- oh who was she kidding? Of course she didn’t trust her and while Leo tried not to get into the dangerous habit of comparing herself to Sarah and despite her best efforts and intentions, she couldn’t understand just exactly what Jamie saw in the girl.

She’d spoken to her mother at length about it, not least because she couldn’t help but feel a little pushed out and bent out of shape at her sudden demotion to ‘favourite girl number four’ (she would never dream of putting herself ahead of Penny and Hayley in those rankings), but was only met with her mother’s keen eyes that were far too similar to her own for her liking and an annoying sing-song sentiment of ‘sounds to me like someone is a little jealous’, She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t. She just thought that Sarah was bad news and that was all there was to it but, ever the faithful and supportive friend, Leo would put on a smile and be on her best behaviour whenever Sarah was around and she would never say anything derogatory to Jamie about her whenever she wasn’t. She would pretend like it didn’t hurt like a kick to the stomach when Jamie would change his plans with her plans to go hang out with his girlfriend and worked hard to keep the look of pained disappointment on her face at bay when he would unexpectedly bring Sarah along to the plans with Leo that he did keep.

Despite her feelings of definitely-not-jealousy, and much to her dismay, Leo’s gut feelings of mistrust turned out to be well placed when a sullen looking Jamie had turned up at her house a few days before their leaver’s prom. Leo hadn’t planned to go, of course, given that her first choice school dance buddy would be attending with his girlfriend. That all changed though with Jamie’s revelation that he wouldn’t be going with Sarah.

“I don’t follow,” Leo said from behind her glass of water.

“She um…” Jamie rubbed the back of his neck with his large palm, face flushed slightly in embarrassment. “She dumped me, actually.”

Was spitting out her water everywhere the most appropriate response Leo could’ve had? No and it was something that Jamie would mercilessly tease her about in the future at any given opportunity, but it was all she had in a moment where she was filled with genuine shock and disbelief.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Jamie mumbled, his eyes cast downwards to his hands that were in his lap and playing with the hem of his overshirt. “She told me we were done. I found out from Dougie that she was going with Finn Tremblay instead.”

“That jock quarterback? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Leo’s initial shock had quickly dissipated into anger, something that Jamie had gathered from the way her voice had gone up a few octaves and she’d taken to gripping her glass of water so tightly that her knuckles had begun to pale.

“Your glass, Leo.”

She set it down on her nightstand with more force than was necessary and muttered something to herself that Jamie couldn’t quite make out except for a few choice words that included ‘that fucking asshole’ and ‘I knew it’. Her tornadic rage soon quietened to a gentle breeze though as she attuned herself to the sadness radiating from Jamie and she brought herself to look at him with sympathetic eyes.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jame. Really.”

Jamie responded with a small shrug, a desperate attempt at nonchalance albeit feigned that he knew that Leo wouldn’t buy; she knew him far too well for that but it was all he could muster in the moment.

“She didn’t deserve you.”

There was a weight behind those words that surprised both of them and there was a lot more meaning to them too but Jamie didn’t have it in him to push right now and Leo wasn’t about to explore that meaning herself either because truth be told, she’d startled herself with both her choice of words and her delivery. Instead she reached across the space between them where they sat cross-legged opposite each other on her bed and took one of Jamie’s big hands to rub gentle circles across the back of it.

“It’ll be okay,” she spoke gently, her voice a shade above a whisper.

“I know,” Jamie murmured and he meant it too because he knew that Leo was right. It would be okay. It would always be okay as long as he had her in his life.

The pair resolved to make the most of a shitty situation (although Leo was sure to let Sarah know exactly what she thought of her) and, after some last minute dress shopping, Leo had found herself looking uncharacteristically glam to attend prom with Jamie. They’d insisted that it was no big deal but you’d never guess it from the way both parents couldn’t contain their excitement as they took pictures of the duo in front of Bill and Diana’s fireplace. Diana and Alison shared a knowing glance on more than one occasion and were practically bursting with glee as Jamie slipped the corsage he’d bought for Leo onto her wrist. One of the things that struck Jamie the most about that night was the ease in which it was to slow-dance with Leo. He’d anticipated it to be awkward and a little bit uncomfortable, y’know, given that Leo was just a friend and while he couldn’t deny the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, he also couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head lower to nose at her hair either.

 One of the things that Leo was consistently described as being by all who knew her was a ‘whirlwind’. Whenever she’d have a spark of an idea she’d add kindling and stoke it, fanning the flames until it was a roaring fire and even the calming waters of Jamie couldn’t quell it. There was no stopping her once she’d set her mind on something and while Jamie appreciated that drive and determination, it had landed them both in hot water on more than one occasion. The first time was just before Leo’s seventeenth birthday when she’d asked him to accompany her to get her nose pierced. He’d discovered as they were sat in the waiting room, much to his horror, that she hadn’t actually told her parents about her plans to get a piercing and although she was of the legal age of consent, he’d still uttered the words ‘this is a really bad idea’; but even he couldn’t deny that the small little stud, which would later be swapped out for a dainty silver hoop, completed her face and served as an extension of her personality. Her parents on the other hand hadn’t quite seen it that way and Jamie remembers to this day, with great clarity, the exact lecture they’d given her the second they noticed the new addition to their daughter’s face and while they’d not blamed Jamie for not stopping their daughter’s impulsive behaviour he couldn’t help but feel like an enabler. The telling-off from Bill and Diana did little to deter Leo and before long she’d expanded her piercing collection with multiple ear piercings and, much to her mother’s dislike, a navel piercing. Jamie hadn’t learned his lesson either though because during the summer after they’d both turned eighteen, he once again found himself being dragged along to a tattoo parlour by Leo to fulfil his best-friend duty of chief hand holder while she got her very first ink.

That summer would prove to be the last one before everything changed. From the moment the pair entered their last year of high school, the reality of their futures beyond school loomed over them. It was easy to ignore for the most part, school served as a good distraction and kept Jamie and Leo busy enough that they didn’t have much time to venture too far down that rabbit hole but these kinds of things have a habit of rolling around, regardless of our best efforts to ignore them, as sure as death and taxes. Leo’s future at the University of Toronto was set in stone with the return of her provincial exam results and while she should have been delighted at the fact she’d be enrolling at her first choice university and studying her chosen degree, the uncertainty of where Jamie would be and what that would mean for their friendship weighed heavily on her mind and with each passing day of summer that inched them towards September, Leo felt as if she had feet like concrete and a head like lead. Jamie sensed this, of course, knowing her better than anyone, even herself and that’s what made the decision to move across the border, so that he could pursue a career in hockey, the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his eighteen years of life, only surpassed by the conversation neither Jamie nor Leo ever wanted to have.

That evening would stay with Jamie forever like a scar from a wound, vivid and raw at first before fading into something so faint that it’s barely noticeable, except it was still there. It would always be there. The look on Leo’s face was like a knife through his chest and the tears that clung to her cheeks like fresh dew on a rose petal felt like someone was twisting it further into the cut.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’? When? Where?”

“Massachusetts, I’m going to Northeastern University. They have a really good collegiate hockey programme there and-“

Jamie was cut off by Leo shaking her head vehemently as her tears began to flow more freely, her voice strangled in her throat.

“No. You-you can’t. Please, Jame. You could play hockey anywhere, you don’t need to go to another country.”

He swallowed thickly as he watched her, the lump in his throat growing by the second while he willed himself not to cry at the pleading look in her tear-filled eyes. It was ironic really, that the person begging him to stay was the same person who had given him the confidence to take that leap of faith and spread his wings in the first place. If you’d have told Jamie even three years ago that he’d be moving away from everything he’d ever known to a foreign country at age eighteen and take steps towards chasing his dream of playing professional hockey he’d have laughed in your face, but being around Leo and hearing her tell him every single day that he was ‘awesome’ and ‘could be anything he wanted to be in the whole world’ made him slowly start to believe it himself.

“I wish it was that simple, Leo. I do.”

Jamie’s voice was so quiet and raw that he barely recognised it as being his own but it was and Leo heard him. She heard what he was saying and everything that he wasn’t and her eyes closed as her lips were drawn together in a tight line while she held on tightly to the thread that was keeping whatever composure she had left together. She knew deep down that this is what Jamie needed to do, that he couldn’t stay in Toronto and for what? For her? That was a kind of selfishness that Leo wasn’t comfortable with, no matter how tempting it was and no matter how much she wished that she could spend every day for the rest of her life being able to hang out with her best friend, he was destined for greatness. She was sure of it. So she nodded as fresh tears streaked down her face, her voice muted and broken, “I know, Jame. I know that. It’s just… I’m really gonna miss you.”

Jamie reached for her as the first sobs she’d been holding back surged forward, pulling her into his lap from his position at the head of her bed and settling her against his chest. His own tears fell silently into her hair while he held her steadfast, willing the broken pieces of her heart back together with each ‘I’m sorry’ that he murmured against the crown of her head. Jamie had never once allowed himself to imagine a life where he wouldn’t see Leo every day but as he stared down the reality, his new reality, he was thankful for every bit of strength and courage the girl wrapped within his arms had ever given him, and while he knew that it would be hard and while he knew that the sting of missing her would sit heavily in his chest every single day, he knew that it would be worth it all to make her proud.

 While the Earth continues on its pilgrimage around the Sun, life goes on. Life must go on and though it hadn’t been the easiest adjustment for Leo and Jamie to make, they’d made it all the same. They managed to talk most days, often Skyping each other as they went about their evening routines and while it wasn’t anywhere close to the real thing, it would serve as a good enough substitute until summer rolled around again and Jamie would be back home in Toronto. It was both a blessing and a curse, how quickly the months collapsed into each other and it felt like no sooner had Leo started her first semester, she was taking her end of first year exams and looking forward to having a couple of months off before September crept back around and she’d suddenly become a second year. The anticipation of seeing Jamie again was only fuelled further by their shared excitement at their plans for their time together. Both of them had celebrated turning nineteen since the last time they’d seen each other in person and while Leo had enjoyed her first legal drink over Skype with Jamie, it wasn’t quite the same knowing that he wasn’t able to have one with her because of the difference in drinking laws but they’d resolved to use their new found legal drinking status to buy each other a drink once he was back home.

His first night back in the city was spent in Leo’s room where they’d laid side-by-side on her bed, fingers intertwined and talked until they were hoarse. It knocked Jamie back a bit, as he listened to her recount her first year at college, how the girl beside him was both different and still the same all at the same time. University had done her good, he thought, and she seemed a little more worldly and wise, or she did in his eyes anyway. But the fire still burned in her belly, brighter than before in some ways and Jamie was struck by the realisation that his best friend, the girl he’d known all his life, was blossoming into a woman. Some things never change though because she’d almost bowled him over as she practically launched herself at him and into his arms when she opened the front door to find him stood on her parents’ porch, somehow even taller than he was when he’d left nine months ago. He’d reluctantly made the short journey home a little after 1am and Leo had slept more soundly that night that she could ever remember.

It was a Saturday night in early-August when the two of them had decided to head into the city to fulfil their promise of buying each other a drink. Leo had suggested The Lab as she’d been there a few times already throughout her first year and had always had a good time. In all their years of friendship Jamie could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Leo with more makeup on that her usual mascara and Burt’s Bees lip balm so to say he was a little floored as he watched her come out of her house from his spot in the back seat of a taxi was an understatement. Her long chocolate hair was in beachy waves and the upper half of it was secured into two little space buns on the top of her head. His eyes flitted over the celestial print mini dress that hung loosely on her body and down to her signature black doc martens and felt his chest begin to flutter in a most unusual way. She didn’t give him too long to question those feelings though because she was opening the cab door and sliding into the seat next to him before he could really decipher what that was all about.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” he replied, looking at her a little dumbfounded as he took in the smoked eyeliner she wore and the subtle wash of colour on her lips. “You look…”

“Please say ‘nice’,” she whined. “I had a total crisis about ten minutes before you arrived. You should see the state of my room. Clothes everywhere.”

Jamie chuckled at that and his eyes had softened in a way that was both familiar to Leo and different all at the same time. There was the usual friendliness there, sure, but there was something that she just couldn’t quite place hidden within those ocean eyes of his. The easy smirk he was wearing was one she’d seen before though and so she wasn’t surprised to hear that his response was one of playful teasing.

“I was gonna say that you look great, but yeah, let’s go with ‘nice’”.

Leo instinctively rolled her eyes and swatted gently at his bicep with an exaggerated sigh.

“Ass.”

“It’s not like you to wear makeup,” Jamie remarked.

“Yeah, well, figured I’d make an effort seeing as though this is technically a belated birthday celebration.”

“I’m honoured that you thought I was worth the effort.” Even in the darkness of the back of the cab, Leo could still see the shit eating grin that had graced Jamie’s features.

“Who said I made the effort for you?” she replied without missing as much as a beat. “I might be wanting to look pretty for the handsome men of Toronto.”

“What handsome men?”

Jamie cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, not only at what he’d said but also at his delivery which had been rushed and a shade accusatory. It’d taken him a little by surprise if he was to be completely honest and he didn’t quite understand why the suggestion had made him feel a momentary pang of annoyance and disappointment all at once. Much like a bolt of lightning though, it had gone no sooner had it come. Leo simply scoffed, not prepared to unpack whatever the hell that was and replied with a gentle roll of her eyes.

“It was a joke, Jame. No one in this city is dumb enough to go out with me.”

The words were there on the tip of Jamie’s tongue, all he had to do was say them but the fact they were there at all had made Jamie’s heart take off galloping and so he swallowed those words down and forced his eyes away from his best friend, because that’s all this was between them, and out of the cab window to look at the passing lights outside.

Jamie had been successful at stuffing the weird tightening in his chest he’d felt from the second he’d laid eyes on Leo down into his stomach and the beer he was drinking was doing a good enough job at drowning it. Leo on the other hand was having a much tougher time of things. Instead of the Long Island Iced Tea hushing her racing mind it seemed to give it more impetus. Why did Jamie have such a knee-jerk reaction to what was quite clearly a joke? Why was she suddenly really impressed at the fact he could sing The Bad Touch word for word when it was something he’d been able to do for years? Why did the plaid over-shirt she’d seen him wear hundreds of times look so good on him all of a sudden? And when did he get so broad? She had questions, lots of them and even her questions had questions, the biggest one being ‘why am I being weird about this all of a sudden?’ It was Jamie. It was just Jamie, her best friend of fifteen years.

She hadn’t planned on having a second Long Island Iced Tea and she definitely hadn’t planned on two turning into three but perhaps the third time was the charm because the whirring in her head had stopped and all she could focus on was the lopsided grin on Jamie’s face as he looked at her from his position on the barstool to her right.

“You’re drunk,” she grinned from behind her glass, in no position herself to make such a statement.

“’m not,” Jamie replied in the way that only a drunk person trying to convince both themselves and everyone else that they weren’t.

“Liar.”

“Says you.”

Leo laughed at that, a little wild and a lot silly and it split Jamie’s face into a huge grin while he brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair back out of her face. Leo’s laughter softened into a gentle smile, her eyes fixed on Jamie’s. He’d always loved her eyes, he thought, ever since they were small and they were every hue of the forest, rimmed coolly with moss. Their lightness often reminded him of summertime, when the sun-rays warmed each extended leaf and even now, in the darkness of the dimly lit bar, he could see them sparkling like emeralds and while he wasn’t sure if it was the beers that had him feeling a little bolder than usual, he couldn’t stop himself from asking her the question that had been sitting high in his throat since the cab ride there.

“Why’d you say that before? About no one in this city bein’ dumb enough to date you?”

She shrugged apathetically while her fingers busied themselves with the hem of her dress.

“S’true,” she replied. “’m not easy to be around. I know that. You know that, you’ve been puttin’ up with my ass for fifteen years.”

“Leo.”

“What?”

Jamie reached his hand down and squeezed her leg gently, enough pressure just to get her eyes on his.

“I was honestly surprised that you weren’t datin’ anyone. You’re… God, you’re so fuckin’ awesome. Any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.”

Leo tore her eyes away from his just long enough to get the heat quickly rising in her cheeks under control. Jamie waited for her, his eyes soft and gentle when she finally met his gaze again.

“Any girl would be lucky to have you,” Leo mumbled.

“Tell that to Sarah,” Jamie chuckled quietly in response.

“Sarah was stupid,” Leo said with a vehemence that made Jamie’s stomach flutter and had him leaning in to bring his face closer to hers without a second thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He was so close now that Leo felt his reply on the exhale of his breath against her lips. She looked down at Jamie’s mouth and swallowed hard, her eyes closing as he inched his mouth closer and closer until-

“Jamie!”

The warmth of anticipation quickly receded and Leo opened her eyes to see Jamie pulling back from her and looking wildly over his shoulder for the source of the voice. Leo had assumed he’d found it when she felt him slide off the stool beside her, instantly missing his presence, and cross the short distance to the man who’d called his name who turned out to be a guy they’d both known from high school. She knew that she should’ve followed Jamie’s lead and catch up with an old acquaintance and she knew that if her mother knew what she was doing she’d think her to be rude, but Leo’s mind wasn’t in any position to be giving the instructions required to move her legs because while she sat there mindlessly playing with the beer mat that had found itself between her fingers, her brain was already analysing what just happened in about a million different ways while still managing to ignore the complete obvious when it came to acknowledging what it all meant.

 The third Long Island Iced Tea was a bad idea, that much was clear to Leo as she awoke the next morning. She was thankful that her past drunken-self had at least had the foresight to bring a pint of water and a Tylenol up to bed with her. She groaned as she hauled herself up the pillows until she was propped up against them, sitting with her head resting against the headboard and cursing the tiny crack in her curtains that was catapulting the morning sunlight right into her eyes. She reached for her water and took a sip to swallow the tablet before taking long, deep gulps until the glass was drained. Leo wasn’t exactly sure why she’d found herself almost kissing Jamie although if you were to ask her a decade later she’d tell you that she knew exactly why, but rather she was simply refusing to acknowledge the glaringly obvious. She chewed on her bottom lip much the same way her mind was chewing over his words to her last night: ‘any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.’ What did that mean exactly? And why would he say something like that?

She was pulled from her brooding by the obnoxious vibration of her phone against the nightstand. Leo knew who the message was from before she’d even unlocked her phone and while a very large part of her wanted to just forget last night ever happened and carry on as normal, she was also curious to hear Jamie’s thoughts on it all.

Jamie: Hey, just wanted to check in with you. Hope the head isn’t too bad this morning 🙈 x

Leo: Drunk me was a very good friend to future hungover me and made sure I had some water and Tylenol lol I bet you don’t even have one, which is very rude by the way. If I’m suffering then you have to suffer too x

Leo paused for a moment as her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, racking her brain for the words needed to gently broach the subject of last night. She’d hoped that Jamie would save her the trouble but she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

Jamie: I had a slight headache this morning but I imagine it’s nothing compared to yours. You were really going for it with those Iced Teas 😂 x

Leo: Three was a mistake, yes x

Leo: Actually, while we’re on the subject I kinda wanted to talk to you about last night x

Jamie: You mean we weren’t already talking about it? X

Leo: I meant the part where it seemed like you were going to kiss me, specifically x

Jamie: Ah. Yeah. That x

Leo pulled her hand through her hair and sighed in frustration, almost regretting even bringing it up. She was almost certain that Jamie had meant nothing by it, they’d both had a lot to drink, right? Surely this was just one of those things between two good friends caused by too much to drink and they’d be laughing about it in a few months’ time. That was Leo’s take on it, anyway, and she was sticking to it.

Leo: I mean, we were both drunk, right? X

Jamie: Yeah, I guess x

Leo: And I think it was just a combination of the alcohol and still having those feelings of missing you while you were away and I was just so excited that you were home that I got swept up in it all x

Jamie: Right. Yeah, that makes sense x

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought, knowing that really this should have been a conversation they’d had face to face but better to address it now than wait and give them both chance to analyse it to death.

Leo: So we’ll just chalk it up as one of those weird alcohol moments? X

Jamie: Yeah, sounds good to me x

While it didn’t do much to settle her nerves, Jamie’s response was good enough for her and she felt confident enough that the matter could be put to bed and that it wasn’t necessary to give it any more thought. She sent Jamie a final message to tell him that she was going to get up to take a shower and that she’d talk to him later on after she’d got home from visiting her grandparents. Jamie had too decided that a shower was the best course of action, partly to wash the smell of bar and cigarette smoke from his body but also as an attempt to clear his head. He wasn’t entirely sure why last night of all nights he felt like he couldn’t take his eyes off Leo. Sure, she was wearing makeup which wasn’t something that she would usually do but it wasn’t as if that act itself was out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary though was the way his hands felt on her waist as they danced together, the way he remembered his heart had sounded as it whooshed in his ears when his lips were no more than a hair away from hers. That almost contact had set a fire in his belly and now that it had been lit he wasn’t exactly sure if it could actually be extinguished. Maybe Leo was right though. Perhaps it was one of those moments that should be chalked up as them both having too much alcohol and too much time apart; Jamie’s only hope was that if he could ignore that fire for long enough and not stoke the flames by giving it all too much thought, it would burn out on its own.

 August quietly slipped by and all too soon Jamie and Leo were once again saying farewell. Instead of heading back to Massachusetts, Jamie was going to be making a new home in Saginaw, Michigan having decided to sign with the Spirit in order to further develop himself. Leo continued to catch up with Jamie much in the same way they had the year before while she threw herself into her studies, the four hour drive often being just that little bit too far to make their conflicting schedules feasibly work. Her passion for her degree was clear to Jamie and he looked forward to hearing all about her classes and assignments, even going so far as asking her to send them to him so he could read about all that she’d been learning so far. Jamie had always known that Leo was incredibly bright, she’d always been articulate and she always knew exactly how to express herself which was something that Jamie both admired and was envious of. While he still had a long way to go, he never let himself forget just how much he’d learned from her in that respect and it was just one of the many reasons that he was grateful for her friendship. The ease in which she expressed her ideas and opinions in her academic writing was so impressive to Jamie and it really gave him a new appreciation for her mind and her talent. These were all things he already knew, of course, but seeing her flying and flourishing at university filled him with an immense amount of pride for her.

Naturally, much like most things in their lives, that feeling of pride was felt by Leo whenever Jamie told her about his games and life playing in the OHL and she was beyond excited for him when she’d watched him get selected by Dallas in the 2011 draft. She followed games whenever she could and talked to Jamie after he’d finished playing whenever their schedules would allow. She was so unbelievably happy to see Jamie making positive steps towards his professional playing career and when his path led him back to St. Catharines, Ontario to play for the Niagara IceDogs, Leo could have burst with the joy of having her favourite person back home, even though he was busy more often than not. Despite his schedule, Jamie always made himself available to talk to her whenever school had her stressed, especially given that her third year was proving to be quite the challenge and the closer proximity to home meant that they could hang out a lot more whenever their schedules allowed. But more importantly, as had been the common theme throughout their lives so far, they pulled each other through the ups and downs of the year and spent that summer joined at the hip, enjoying their last bit of time together before Jamie would make the move down to Texas just before the start of Leo’s final year at university.

If Leo had thought that her third year was difficult then she was in for a rude awakening when it came to her final one. The pace was relentless, especially when it came to balancing all of her different classes and assignments and while Jamie didn’t have a clue what she was talking about half the time, he was happy that she was at least enjoying the process and supported her in any capacity he could across all the miles and time zones. Leo couldn’t watch as many of Jamie’s games as she would have liked, given her own gruelling schedule, but she sent him words of encouragement every single day and despite her not being able to be physically with him, Jamie felt her presence all around him just the same and counted down the days until he’d be able to spend the summer with her once more. He’d talk with her whenever he could and there were more times that she’d fallen asleep still on the line with him than Jamie could count, each time making the ache in his chest more prominent than the last. Trips to Toronto during the season were infrequent and much too short but seeing her, even for those few hours after a game, where it felt like there had been no time or distance between them both at all, gave him the quiet peace he needed until he could be with her again, laid on her bed at her parents’ house with the windows open, the gentle breeze and her soft humming against his chest as they listened to music together with their fingers laced tight.

Jamie still remembers to this day the exact moment that Leo opened her degree results. He’d thankfully been home and arrived at her parents’ house not long after 9am to have breakfast with them while they waited for the results to go live on the school online portal. Diana had made pancakes, he recalled, with bacon and maple syrup and Bill had been out in the car to pick up a Tim Horton’s for everyone and (hopefully) celebratory Timbits for Leo. Jamie wished that he could’ve bottled the look on Leo’s face when she found out that she’d be graduating from the University of Toronto with a Bachelor of Arts in History with a minor in Religious Studies and because of her exceptionally high grades, she could therefore progress onto the Master’s program to study History further. He remembered whispering in her ear how proud he was of her as he held onto her tightly and it only grew with the realisation that he’d get to share that moment with her on her graduation day.

 On June 18th, 2014 Leonora Harris awoke to her father carrying in a tray laden with coffee, fresh orange, toast and jam along with a card bearing handwriting she recognised as belonging to Alison Oleksiak. Her was mother close behind with the biggest bouquet of flowers Leo had ever seen bundled within her arms.

“Happy graduation day, sweetheart,” Bill said softly as he placed the tray into Leo’s lap after waiting for her to sit herself up and dropped a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“These came for you about five minutes ago,” Diana added, setting the bouquet down on the nightstand.

Leo took the opportunity to peer at the flowers wrapped in brown paper and cellophane and tied up with string. Her floral knowledge was admittedly limited but she recognised the large lion-head dahlia blooms nestled amongst sunflowers and yellow roses and peppered with smaller sprays of baby’s breath. She reached for the small card poking out from amongst the flowers and opened the envelope to reveal a small piece of paper. After admiring the beautiful penmanship of whomever had written the message she allowed herself to read it and felt a lovely warmth spread from the centre of her chest all the way down to her toes.

Leo,

Congrats again on your new membership to the Silly Hat Club! Enjoy every second and don’t trip over. I’m really proud of you and I always knew you could do it.

Love, J xxx

Leo smiled as she put the small piece of paper back into the envelope before turning her attention to the card on her breakfast tray which had contained a ‘Happy Graduation’ card from the Oleksiaks and a gift certificate for her favourite book store which was where she bought the majority of her second hand CDs from.

“Exicted?” her mother asked from her new position sat by Leo’s feet at the end of the bed, her hand laid gently on her shins over the comforter.

Leo nodded and echoed her mother’s smile in reply.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” Diana continued, voice cracking slightly as she sniffled with pure happiness. “So, so proud.”

“Thank you, mama. Not sure I coulda done it without you both though.”

“We just gave you the tools, Nora Noo,” Bill spoke softly. “The hard work was all yours.”

Leo grinned at her father and it was a smile she would wear for the remainder of the day. She felt every bit the part in her navy blue wrap dress underneath her cap and gown and Jamie had to fight hard to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched his favourite person in the whole world cross the stage to collect her diploma. He didn’t miss the sly glance and smirk Penny was wearing to his left and all he could manage was a mumbled ‘shut up’ which told the youngest Oleksiak all she needed to know and would have her looking rather smug for the rest of the day. The group returned to the Harris house after the ceremony had finished and Alison and Diana were satisfied they had all the photos they needed. Leo wasn’t even sure how her mother had found the time to prepare food but within twenty minutes of them arriving back at the house, the kitchen island was filled with various nibbles and a charcuterie board. The champagne was popped and Bill led the group in raising a glass to Leo, Jamie with his arm tight around her waist all the while.

Long after the food had been cleared away and their families had begun to migrate towards the living room, Jamie took the opportunity to gently grab Leo’s hand and lead her through the kitchen out to the back porch, refilling their champagne flutes on the way and purposefully ignoring the shit-eating grins Hayley and Penny were throwing their way. He settled on the swing loveseat, his large arm draped along the back and nodded for Leo to sit down beside him. She settled back against the cushions, her body pressed lightly into his side and took a sip of champagne as the pair slipped into an easy silence while twilight slowly began to descend all around them. They stayed that way for a few minutes, content to watch as the sky melted into a watercolour of magenta, red and violet. Jamie broke the stillness first with a voice so quiet that Leo could’ve been forgiven for not hearing him at all. She could feel him prepare to speak before the words had even left his mouth though, the small breath he took settling all through her own body and preparing her for whatever he was about to say.

“I’m so proud of you, y’know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Leo whispered in reply, not wanting to burst the calm bubble that they’d cultivated around them.

Jamie reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet drawstring bag, handing it to Leo and nodding for her to open it.

“What’s this?”

“Your graduation present,” Jamie smiled softly.

“But you already sent me flowers,” Leo protested.

“Those were your graduation flowers. This is your graduation present.”

“Jame.”

“Just open the damn bag,” he laughed quietly, blue eyes keen as he watched her run the cord between her fingers.

Leo’s fingers pulled at the cord around the top of the pouch to open it up and reached inside to pull out a thin woven leather bracelet. The silver of the clasp glinted faintly in the afterglow of the day and dangling from the tan cord were two silver charms: a graduation cap and a lion head. Leo swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep her tears at bay, not quite trusting herself to speak for fear that once she started crying, she would not be able to stop.

“Do you like it?” Jamie asked nervously after Leo’s silence had gone on a little too long for comfort.

“I love it, Jamie,” she sniffled. “It’s perfect.”

She handed the bracelet to him and offered her wrist in a wordless request for him to put it on her. He took it from her gladly and after a few seconds of fiddling and a nervous laugh from Jamie as his large fingers struggled with the dainty clasp, the bracelet was around her wrist and Leo was smiling softly as she admired it. Jamie’s arm had found its way back to its previous position along the back of the swing, his fingers tracing patterns along Leo’s upper arm idly which was something he’d done countless times before and yet none had ever felt as intimate as it did in that moment. His heart had taken to hammering in his chest as he watched her and the way the dusk and the faint glow of the string lights on the porch gave her an almost ethereal quality which made the fire in his stomach that he’d tried so hard to forget about spring to life and begin to burn ferociously. It was almost too much, that overwhelming need to kiss her despite not quite understanding where these feelings were coming from and why they were springing up now of all times, but he remembered the night at the bar where they’d come to within a breath of it and he remembered the morning after, their conversation and the fact that they were just friends and that Leo wasn’t really his. So he did the only thing he could think to do in that moment, he took a deep, settling breath before casting his eyes back out towards the sky.

“Are you okay?”

Her question was quiet and soft and it crawled all through Jamie’s skin to settle within his chest.

“Yeah,” he replied just as quietly. “Just… Thinking about when we were kids and how much everything has changed.”

“We’re still the same though, you and I.”

“You are, but you’ve always been awesome and smart and just… amazing but I’m not the same,” Jamie shook his head. “I’m so different to what I used to be, in the best kind of way and I know that that’s down to you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Leo murmured.

“Except you did,” he countered but with the softness still present in his tone. “You taught me what it meant to be brave and made me believe that I could do anything and because of you I’m playing in the AHL, I played for the Dallas Stars and even if I never get called up to play for them again, I did it. I played in the NHL and I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“Jamie.”

Leo’s voice was caught somewhere in her throat, tangled up in the lump that stubbornly sat there and all she could do was reach for his other hand and hold it tightly in his lap.

“It’s true and you wanna know what else is true?” He paused while he waited for Leo to reply which he got as a small nod before continuing, sure and steady in his delivery. “That you’re gonna kick ass on this master’s degree. You’re the smartest person I know, Leo and you’re gonna be fucking amazing.”

Leo rested her head onto Jamie’s shoulder, mostly out of a need to be close to him but partly because her eyes were full to the brim with tears and she didn’t want him to see her cry on what was such a happy day, which was probably a good thing because a few stray tears had slipped out and onto Jamie’s cheeks as well.

“You’re such a sap,” she half-teased, her voice muffled by his button up shirt but she squeezed his hand all the same.

Jamie closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss into her hair, the gentle teasing enough to pull him back into reality, the one where they were just friends and where their relationship was easy and didn’t need to be complicated by romantic feelings, the reality where come September he’d be leaving town again and they would go back to phone calls and FaceTiming across the time zones whenever they could. They were just friends. They were just friends. They were just friends.

Jamie swallowed thickly and forced a lightness into his tone and a smile onto his face before he gave her a reply. “Yeah, I know. But don’t go tellin’ anyone or we’re gonna have to throw hands.”

“You’re too scared to fight me, Oleksiak.”

Jamie breathed a laugh into her hair at that, her response so quick and quippy and so Leo that it was enough to elicit a real and genuine chuckle despite the knot that sat heavy in his stomach. His fingers flexing around the shoulder his arm was draped over as he spoke, “Yeah, you’re right. I am.”

It would be something that Jamie wouldn’t find out until much later on, but from the moment he put that bracelet around Leo’s wrist, she made damn sure that she never ever took it off, even as the months rolled into years and even when it felt like there was so much distance between them, both literally and figuratively, that bracelet was a reminder to Leo that her favourite person was always with her, no matter what.

Jamie meanwhile would keep trying to smother the fire that Leo had set in his stomach the night they’d almost kissed but despite his best efforts, the flames would keep creeping higher and higher with every single thought he had of her and he was beginning to understand that they would not stop until they reached his chest and engulfed his heart completely.

 The next couple of years would pass for both Jamie and Leo in a bit of a blur. Leo threw herself into her master’s education completely, determined to give herself the best possible chance of landing a good job after she’d graduated. It was as intense as she’d expected it to be and while she had initially struggled to pick a topic for her thesis, after numerous 3am phone calls with Jamie and a heart-to-heart with her parents, she finally settled on focusing her paper on the role of the church on life in the Middle Ages, which to quote Jamie, sounded ‘impressive as fuck’. The research material was interesting enough and Leo found that there was enough there for her to really get into the meat of it all. Jamie on the other hand was trying his hardest to establish himself as an NHL defenseman and would find himself flitting between the Texan and Dallas Stars. He’d have been lying if he said that it didn’t weigh heavily on him sometimes and while he tried his hardest to keep his conversations with Leo light so as not to worry her during an important part of her studying, her incredible ability to sense when he wasn’t quite feeling himself was so good that it was almost eerie. He would apologise every single time for venting and she would tell him that’s what friends were for and offer him words of encouragement and advice that spurred him on and pushed him to keep working hard and to keep chasing his dream of making it in the National Hockey League.

Leo graduated for a second time in the summer of 2016 with a Masters in History, achieving a remarkable A+ as her final grade which secured her dream job working at the Royal Ontario Museum. Jamie once again sat at her parents’ side, chest swelling with pride, as he watched her cross that stage to collect her diploma. He’d also helped her move into and decorate her first apartment, an airy two bedroomed place not far from her new place of employment and Jamie’s own downtown loft that he was renting, right before he had to fly out to Rio to watch Penny represent team Canada at the Olympics. Leo called Jamie after every single one of Penny’s races, making sure to get a promise from him that he would tell the youngest Oleksiak just how proud Leo was of her and of course, reminding Jamie that he was henceforth known as ‘Penny’s brother’ and that he would no longer be allowed to pick on her now that she was Canada’s sweetheart, which had earned her a great deal of grumbling from Jamie.

Jamie was thankful that he would at least get to spend a couple of weeks at home before he was due to fly back down to Texas. It was a late-August evening when Leo found herself sprawled out on Jamie’s couch. He’d only been back from Brazil for a couple of days but had said that there was a couple of things that he needed to do before he had to leave to report for training camp. He was playing on his Playstation and while at first Leo been content to just scroll through Instagram, she’d soon grown tired of that and was now eyeing him from her position at the opposite end of the sofa. If he noticed her restless sighs he certainly didn’t give anything away and his focus remained fixed on the television. She narrowed her eyes at him after a particularly obnoxious exhale of her breath garnered zero reaction or response and began to scoot slowly towards him, a mischievous glint in her eye that could only be born out of boredom.

Leo settled next to Jamie on her knees, a slow grin forming as she looked at him. He was still looking at the TV, completely engrossed in whatever game it was that he was playing and if he had noticed her then he kept maintaining an air of indifference as his thumbs pushed at the buttons on his controller. She’d started by giving his bicep a gentle prod, looking at him expectantly while she waited for his eyes to find hers. Nothing. She prodded again, a little harder this time and while she noticed the corner of his lips quirk he still didn’t turn his gaze onto her. Leo furrowed her brows as a small pout graced her features which earned a faint chuckle from Jamie. He knew what she was trying to do, of course, knowing her better than anyone, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, at least not yet.

Leo began to gently prod the side of his head, her pout devolving into an impish little grin as she noticed Jamie roll his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Oh my god, can you not?” he grumbled but with a playful edge to his tone.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me attention.”

“Real mature. Not the kind of behaviour I’d expect from a master’s graduate at all,” he smirked as he side eyed her.

“Those are your standards, Jamie, and quite frankly, I don’t subscribe to them.”

She reached down to pinch at his ribs through the thin material of his tank top, the yelp she received more pained than she was anticipating.

“Oh my god! I did not pinch you that hard!”

“You got me right on my tattoo!” Jamie protested.

“What tattoo? Since when have you had a tattoo there?”

Jamie lifted the hem of his tank to reveal an intricately patterned tribal lion head, the skin still red and raw.

“When did you get that done?” Leo asked, looking closely at it.

“Yesterday so it’s still pretty fuckin’ tender.”

“Awwww,” Leo smirked, making Jamie’s eyes flicker with a hint of nervousness at the devilish look in her eye and the mischief in her tone. “You love me so much you got a lion.”

Jamie groaned and rolled his eyes as Leo’s face split into a fiendish grin.

“I did not get a lion for you. You don’t have the monopoly on lions, y’know. They can represent lots of things, like bravery or courage. Not everything is about you, Leo.”

“Suuuure,” she teased.

“Whatever,” Jamie grumbled as he pulled his shirt back down and used the controller to turn off the Playstation before setting it down on the coffee table. “Happy?” he groused but still surveyed Leo with that familiar warmth he had in his eyes that was reserved exclusively for her.

“Yup,” she replied, obnoxiously putting her feet into his lap and wiggling them until he brought his hand down to rest upon her shin, the gentle weight of it and the warmth of his touch against her bare legs sparking a sad smile on her features while she studied his features like she was committing them once again to memory, the realisation that he would be gone again next week washing over her like someone had just blown a dam.

“What?” he asked with a gentle chuckle while his eyes searched her face.

“Nothing, just… I’m gonna miss you when you go back to the States.”

“You’re gonna miss harassing me, more like.”

“No!” she rebutted, before immediately giving him a small grin. “I mean, yeah, but not just that. I’m gonna miss you. I always miss you.”

Jamie’s expression softened as her voice trailed off and his thumb began to take on a mind of its own as it started drawing small circles against her skin.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper to which she nodded in reply, unable to speak for the quickly forming lump in her throat. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Leo shifted and moved towards Jamie, slotting easily against his side like she belonged there while still being cognizant of the still fresh tattoo. As Jamie pulled her closer he tried not to lose it as her arm draped lazily across his abdomen and her face pressed against his chest. Her fingers had occupied themselves with the hem of his shirt and he swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as they’d slipped underneath the fabric and were dancing lightly over the skin above the waistband of his shorts. Leo didn’t notice the wide-eyed expression on his face though, her eyes were closed and she was too focused on the strong beat of his heart to stop herself from spiralling over the thought of him going back to Texas and not seeing him again for another nine months. She hated this part, the part where he would go back to his other life, the other life that she was only a part of via a telephone screen and while she knew that his life was really none of her business, it was getting harder and harder to remind herself that he wasn’t really hers and to let go of all the anxieties and insecurities him leaving would bring.

 If he’d heard it once, he’d heard it a thousand times: ‘you need to get yourself a girl, Rig.’ While Jamie knew that this particular sentiment from his teammates came from a good place, it wasn’t as easy as just picking up any girl in a bar and falling into bed with her and while he knew that it wasn’t a betrayal and that he certainly shouldn’t view it as such, the lion on his ribs made it feel like one regardless because whatever bullshit he’d fed Leo about it representing courage and bravery, they were traits that he’d learned from her and it was his way of having her with him always. It wasn’t like he wasn’t at least trying, but he knew fine well the reasons why he could never get past a first date with anyone, because whether he was consciously doing it or not, none of them could compare with the girl back home in Toronto with the jade green eyes. Jamie was beginning to understand that it was senseless to try and ignore what was right in front of him but he was so crippled by the fear that it’d been too long, that too much had been left to build up, that, as Segs had put it, he’d find himself ‘eternally friend-zoned.’ Jamie knew that he’d been through too much with Leo, that she’d become such an intrinsic part of his life, that he was sure his heart would shatter if he lost her and the last thing he wanted to do was push her away with a confession of love that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure she’d reciprocate.

‘The way I see it there’s three possible scenarios here,’ Tyler had said. ‘You tell her how you feel and she tells you she feels the same way. Boom. Happily ever after. You tell her how you feel and she tells you she loves you but just as a friend and you have to go on knowing that or you confess your love, she freaks the fuck out and you ruin twenty-plus years of friendship’ and because success wasn’t a complete guarantee, Jamie figured the best course of action would be to suck it up because if he had to choose between having Leo only as a friend and not having her at all, then he would be her friend and love her quietly for the rest of his days.

Their lives had continued much in the same way as before. They would talk whenever they were able to, which was less than they both would’ve liked due to the time difference and their conflicting schedules, but they made it work as best as they could and when Jamie returned home in the summer things were the same as they’d always been, the only difference being the fire that had started off as a flicker in his stomach had taken to consuming his whole body and the urge to pull her body against his and kiss her like he so badly wanted to was almost unbearable. The only thing that kept holding Jamie back was the same thing that he wanted most in the whole world. He found himself coming back to Tyler’s words over and over again, chewing over them like a starving dog with a bone and resigning himself to a lifetime of purgatory because the thought of losing Leo completely cut deeper than the thought of never having her in the way that he longed for the most.

Leo, meanwhile, was struggling more than she would have ever admitted to Jamie. The schedule of her job and how it wouldn’t quite mesh with Jamie’s, despite her best efforts, was beginning to weigh heavy and she surprised herself, if she gave it a second thought, with how much her mood would tank if she didn’t get to speak to Jamie. She knew she shouldn’t have let it bother her because not only did that make it sound like she was incredibly dependant on him (which wasn’t the case at all) it also made her sound a little bit possessive and she wasn’t okay with that, not least because Jamie’s wasn’t hers in the first place and because it was a trait and a behaviour that didn’t sit right with her. Jamie was his own person, after all, with his own life and his own wants and desires and she had no right to lay claim on him just because of some childish though process such as ‘he was mine first’. The loneliness was crippling though and the first time Jamie had told her that he wouldn’t be able to Skype because he was going on a date, Leo had to swallow down the ball of emotion in her throat that she hadn’t expected. She tried to tell herself that this was a good thing for Jamie, that he deserved this and that it was going to happen eventually because Jamie was all the good things in the world and it was only a matter of time before he found himself a nice girl, but she couldn’t help but feel like she couldn’t breathe every time she thought of Jamie with someone else. It wasn’t fair though, on either of them, because they were just friends, that’s all and if Jamie was dating then maybe she should too.

 It was just before Christmas in 2017 when Jamie found himself packing up his life in Dallas and moving the 1200-plus miles east to Pittsburgh. Trades were never easy but he kept reminding himself that it was part of the job and at least he would be closer to Toronto, his family and Leo. He’d not long sat down in his new apartment, an opened bottle of beer on the coffee table and a pizza on the way. He knew it wasn’t exactly a nutritionist’s dream but after spending the best part of his day unpacking his life into a space that was still too clinical to really feel like home (and he knew needed Leo’s touch), he wanted something easy and cooking a healthy, balanced meal wasn’t it. It was getting on for 10:30 at night and while there was a huge part of him that wanted to be selfish and call Leo, especially now that they were on the same time zone, he also knew that she needed to be at the museum early tomorrow and would already be asleep, so he took to scrolling through Instagram instead. It wasn’t something he did very often and he wasn’t one to post anything on there himself, but Leo used it quite frequently and in a moment where he found himself missing her, it would be a decent enough substitute until he could call her the next day.

He wasn’t sure why he was so taken aback by her latest post, maybe it was because she hadn’t ever mentioned anything to Jamie, but the sight of Leo wrapped in the arms of a man who had his lips pressed into her hair had jarred him and now that the initial shock had worn off, he felt his free palm begin to hurt from where his fist had become so tightly balled that his nails were digging into the flesh there. Jamie noticed that she’d tagged the mystery guy in the post and so, despite his better judgment, he clicked on the handle and followed it to the profile. He was called Ben, Jamie learned, and he was annoyingly good looking but the thing that had Jamie’s heart hammering as the anger began to pool in his stomach was the fact that Ben had more than one photo of Leo on his profile and there was a recurring theme with each of the captions on these photos that had Jamie’s jaw clenching: ‘my girl’. Jamie locked his phone screen and sat gripping the device in his hand for a few moments while his teeth pressed tighter and tighter together. He sniffled slightly before squashing that emotion right back down and slamming his phone down onto the coffee table. He’d taken to pacing around the open plan living area and tearing his hands through his hair while he tried to get control of the breathing that was getting a little wild and a little ragged.

They’re just friends. He knew that. They’d ever been anything more and he’d never told her that he wanted them to be anything more, not explicitly anyway, but Jamie’s heart felt like it had been stuffed into a vice and now someone, Ben, was turning the handle and crushing it into a broken and bloody mess. Jamie cursed loudly into the room and resisted the urge to put a fist shaped hole into the drywall. He had no one else to blame but himself, of course, and he knew deep down that he shouldn’t have expected a girl like Leo to stay single and wait indefinitely for him because she was sharp, beautifully wild with a mind that was her own and a smile that had lit up Jamie’s whole world since they were four years old, any man would be mad not to fall for her. But he’d been right there in front of her for over twenty years, he’d been the one to wipe her tears away, he’d been the one to help her fix shelves up in her new apartment, he’d been the one she called at three in the morning when she couldn’t sleep. He had been all of those things and he had been loving her for all that time and yet she didn’t see him. Maybe Tyler was right, maybe he was so deep in the friend-zone that there was no way out of it because right now Jamie was up to his neck in it and it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

What he didn’t understand though and perhaps the thing that had irked him the most about this was the fact that Leo had never mentioned that she was seeing anybody. Not once. Jamie knew that she’d been going on dates and while that thought had made his chest ache a little, he also knew that she wasn’t his and that she was only doing the same thing he was but now that he thought about it, she hadn’t mentioned going on a date for a good couple of months and now that he’d seen that photo, he understood why. So why hadn’t she told him that she was seeing this guy? Especially if it had been going on for a couple of months now. He grabbed his beer and drained it before dragging his weary body to bed and drifting into an uneasy sleep.

Jamie awoke to a text from Leo but he didn’t bother to read it. He was still too keyed up from the night before and he needed to get his focus on hockey while he got himself ready to head to practice. He’d be playing in his first game as a Penguin on home ice that night and he wanted to make sure that he gave it his all and made a good first impression. His time in Dallas had been plagued with inconsistency, healthy scratches and yo-yoing between the minors and the big league and he didn’t want to put himself back into a situation where he didn’t know if a mistake on the ice was going to have him sitting in a press-box for two or three games. His first practice went as well as Jamie could’ve hoped it would and he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded him when he was made to feel welcome and like he’d always been a part of that group. Leo had always talked about the magic of new beginnings but it was never something that Jamie had ever experienced for himself but as he sat in his new stall before his first game as a Pittsburgh Penguin, Jamie couldn’t help but feel the spark of electricity that he was sure was what Leo had meant.

He was sprawled out on his couch watching TV when Leo had called him. There was a part of him that wanted to let the call go to voicemail but he knew that wasn’t fair because for all he was mad that she hadn’t told him about her new boyfriend, he also knew that it was her prerogative and it was, quite frankly, none of his business and he needed to get over whatever this was, no matter how hard it might be.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” Leo said excitedly. “Oh my god! I watched your first game, you were amazing! Do you love it? Is everyone nice? What’s your apartment like?”

Jamie couldn’t help the soft chuckle that floated past his lips at her animated tone and barrage of questions.

“Yes, yes and yes.”

“What’s it like? Pittsburgh?”

“I’ve only been here a day, Leo. I literally went from my apartment to practice, back to my apartment and then to the rink for the game.”

Although Jamie couldn’t see her, Leo furrowed her brows at the hint of an edge in his tone and while she could’ve easily played it off as him just being tired, given that he’d uprooted his life and moved halfway across a country to then play a game of hockey, she knew him better than that and so, never one to beat around the bush, she figured she’d just get to the point.

“Is everything okay, Jame? You seem… I don’t know, you seem off.”

“I’m fine, Leo,” Jamie replied with a sigh. “Just tired.”

“Please,” Leo said with such a softness that it made Jamie’s throat tighten. “Please don’t lie to me, Jamie. We’ve known each other too long for that.”

Jamie exhaled slowly at that, a settling breath to give him time to gather his thoughts and composure.

“I just,” he began, voice controlled and measured but quiet. “Don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that you had a boyfriend.”

“I don-“

“Don’t lie to me, Leo,” Jamie said, tone a little harsher and throwing her own words back at her. “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

Leo bit her lip and exhaled shakily. Even through the phone she could picture the hurt and disappointment on Jamie’s face and while she knew that she should have told him, she also didn’t really have a good enough reason for not doing so and somehow that was worse.

“I didn’t,” she started, still unsure what to say even as the words were coming out of her mouth because there were still the reasons as to why she didn’t say anything that she still didn’t really understand herself. “I didn’t know if it was anything serious and I guess I just wanted to be sure.”

“You waited a whole two months.”

“I- wait, how did you know we’d been dating for two months?” Leo challenged.

“Irrelevant,” Jamie shot back.

“It’s absolutely not irrelevant. You didn’t even know I was seeing anyone before that post I made yesterday let alone that it’d been two months. What? Are you stalking him now?”

“It’s not stalking if his profile is public,” Jamie defended earning him nothing but a scoff from Leo. “Besides, not like I was gonna find out from you any time soon, maybe once the wedding invitation came through the mail.”

“Oh don’t be so fucking ridiculous, Jamie,” Leo scorned. “You know it’s not like that.”

“So what is it like? I’m dying to know.”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! I was going to tell you but I figured I’d let you get settled in Pittsburgh and get your first game under your belt and I haven’t told you before now because I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t more than just a couple of dates. It really doesn’t have to be a big deal, Jamie.”

“If it wasn’t such a big deal you wouldn’t have been so bothered about waiting for me to ‘get settled.’” He emphasised her words as he quoted them back to her but his tone was little more than a frustrated growl. He knew this was a stupid thing for them to be fighting about and he knew that she didn’t owe him a thing but it was easier to channel the hurt it brought him than confront the overwhelming jealousy that was crushing him.

Leo was done with this argument though and she didn’t like the way her whole body felt like it was aching at the sound of Jamie’s voice through the phone so she did the only thing she felt like she could do in the moment.

“I’m sorry, Jame. I-I really didn’t think it was-.” She trailed off quietly, for once in her life at a loss for words. “I think I’m just gonna go, you must be exhausted.”

“Don’t,” Jamie pleaded, voice small and quiet and full of regret at snapping at the person he cared about most in the world. “Please, don’t go. I-.” He exhaled slowly as he rubbed his free and across his face. “I’m sorry too. You’re right, it’s your business and you were gonna tell me when you were ready to. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Please don’t think I was hiding it from you,” Leo said, although in a few years’ time, when she looked back on all of this, she would realise that that was a lie.

“I know. I know you weren’t.”

There was a silence that fell between them, bigger than all the miles between them and filled to the brim with things unsaid but it only lasted a few beats before Jamie’s big exhale swept it away with his breath before he spoke quietly.

“He good to you?”

“Yeah, Jame. He’s a really great guy, I think you’d really like him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Leo murmured. “When you’re back in the summer we should get drinks or something.”

“Sounds good, Leo,” Jamie said under his breath. “I should probably head to bed, I’m beat and it’s gettin’ late for you too.”

“Okay,” she replied sadly. “We’ll talk tomorrow though, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

Jamie and Leo did in fact talk the next day and the day after that, but despite the apology they’d both made and despite the fact that they had put their little spat to bed, there was far too much sitting there between them unsaid. It was like litter on the ground at a place of outstanding natural beauty, you could still admire the beauty of the trees or the mountains or the winding river, but the piles of rubbish collecting on the floor were glaring and impossible to ignore and you’d find yourself wanting to go over and pick it all up. Nobody wants to look at trash though, not when there’s still rivers and trees and mountains and so Leo and Jamie found themselves ignoring everything that now sat between them and instead kept looking at the beautiful things in their lives. They were busy enough to keep distracted, Leo more so now that she had Ben in her life and before long winter and spring were a whisper of a memory and summer announced her presence in the city with sunnier days and warmer temperatures.

 It was the first time in his life that Jamie wasn’t filled with the usual excitement at going back home, that’s not to say that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing his family, his friends and Leo, but there was something that just didn’t quite feel the same and while he knew exactly what that was, there was no point dragging it back up and flogging it some more. Leo was still with Ben and that was all there was to it. He’d seen Leo a few times since he’d come back home but she was often tied up with work, no longer benefitting from the long summers off she had when she was at college, and the free time she would’ve had before was no longer exclusively Jamie’s. He tried hard not to let himself be hurt with the change in dynamic and instead took the opportunity to spend quality time with his siblings. The idea of getting a drink with Leo and Ben wasn’t one that filled Jamie with any amount of joy, but a promise was a promise and Leo was still the most important person in his life, even if he was no longer hers and he wouldn’t ever go back on his word.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect but he also wanted to give himself an easy out if he felt like he needed it so he decided that he was just going to have the one beer so that he could drive himself there and home again. Whether it was subconscious or not, it took Jamie longer than usual to get ready and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was the balmy Toronto heat that had him feeling sweatier than he would’ve liked but he eventually slipped on a pair of converse to complete his shorts and t-shirt ensemble and was in the elevator down to the garage, the keys to his truck gripped tightly in his hand.

Leo was already at the cocktail bar when he arrived, perched on a barstool at a little round table. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she always managed to make look effortless and Jamie had to make a conscious effort to swallow as his eyes took in her sun-kissed skin and the strappy sundress she was wearing. He should have expected her to look gorgeous, of course, because it was Leo and she always looked so effortlessly beautiful but it didn’t make knowing that she was here with someone else and not him hurt any less. He couldn’t blame her though, not really, because for all there was so much between them now that it should’ve been obvious, he still hadn’t outright said it or even talked to her about it and that was on him and him alone. He approached the table where she was sitting alone and looked around the bar for the man he’d only ever seen photos of.

“Hey,” she called out with the smile that always made Jamie’s heart leap up into his throat. “You made it.”

“Said I would,” Jamie replied, hugging her on the barstool and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “You look, you look good.”

“Thanks,” grinned Leo. “So do you, very festive. Ben’s just headed to the bar, do you want anything?”

“I’ve got mine, thanks though,” Jamie half-gritted as he made his way to the bar.

He could do this, he could. It was just one drink. He could manage that, right? Because that’s what friends did, they went out for drinks together and so Jamie resolved to put on his best smile as he walked back to the table, where Ben had now situated himself next to Leo, with his beer in hand. Ben was shorter than he was, Jamie noted, and he was definitely on the slighter side but still incredibly handsome with dark brown eyes that seemed to be in a state of perpetual kindness, short and neatly maintained stubble and hair that was darker than Leo’s which he’d secured in a bun at the back of his head. He was nothing like Jamie which should have made him feel better, knowing that if this was Leo’s type then it was no wonder she didn’t see him in that way, but it didn’t, it just made everything feel that little bit worse. He gave them both a tight lipped smile, all he could manage in the moment, as he sidled onto a barstool directly opposite Leo and took an obligatory sip of his beer before offering Ben his hand.

“Jamie”

Ben shook Jamie’s outstretched hand and Jamie was sure to give him a firm and not threatening at all handshake.

“Nice to meet you man,” Ben said with an accent Jamie recognised immediately as either Australian or New Zealander and he tried not to wince at the force with which the giant man was shaking his hand with. “I’m Ben.”

“Good to meet you, Ben. Nice to see you’re taking good care of my girl.”

Jamie knew that his remark would earn him a pointed glare and he was dead right because without even looking at her he could feel Leo’s eyes were boring into the side of his head.

“Yeah,” Ben laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, she’s amazing.”

“She really is. She tell you we’ve been friends for over twenty years?”

“Yeah, I did,” Leo cut in, giving Jamie a warning look. “Ben knows all about you.”

“That’s good,” Jamie mused as he took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, Leo and I? We go way back.”

Jamie put his beer down and stretched his shoulders back, somehow managing to make himself look even broader than usual and watched Ben closely, his blue eyes piercing. Leo rolled her eyes to herself and took a large gulp of her mai tai, if Jamie was going to act like a macho teenage boy then she was going to need to be at least three drinks in for this.

“You were four, right?” Ben asked nobody in particular.

“Yup,” Jamie replied, popping the ‘p’ as he looked at Leo. “Shared my strawberries with her and everything.”

Leo gave Jamie as inconspicuous of a kick as she could manage under the table and shot him a murderous look. She didn’t quite know at what point her best friend had been possessed by the ghost of Bro-mas past or why he was acting in such an insane and ridiculous way but the man opposite her wasn’t the Jamie she knew and to be quite honest, she wasn’t sure that she liked him. Jamie paid her no mind though, his focus remained fixed on the man to Leo’s left as a cocky smirk played on his lips.

“So, Ben,” he folded his arms tight across his chest, his biceps straining against the white fabric of his t-shirt. “What do you do?”

Ben sat up straighter on his stool, whether that was to try and subconsciously match Jamie’s macho-man aura or whether it was to try and instil some confidence in himself Leo couldn’t quite tell but she kept her eyes keen on Jamie and tried to engage whatever best-friend telepathy she could to tell him to knock it off.

“I’m a veterinarian.”

Jamie gave a tight lipped smile, not because there was anything wrong with being a veterinarian, quite the opposite actually. He gave a tight lipped smile because it meant that the man sat beside the girl he loved more than anything else in this world was smart and compassionate and successful and good for her. Those three words had him feeling more inadequate than he could ever truly express and he knew in that moment that there was no point even trying anymore because Ben could give her more than he ever could, intellectually and emotionally, although it still did nothing to abate the raging jealously that was running rampant through his body.

“Leo told me you’re a pro-athlete?”

Jamie was pulled by his thoughts by Ben’s question, an interested and expectant look on his features and Jamie felt the need to take a couple of gulps of his drink before he could answer.

“Yeah, play hockey in the NHL for the Dallas Stars.”

“Not the Maple Leafs then?”

Even though Jamie knew that Ben’s question was innocent enough, he couldn’t help the scoff or the mildly withering look he sent across the table despite the fact that he could feel Leo practically fizzing with annoyance.

“No, bud. It doesn’t work like that.”

Jamie started to look around the bar, clearly done with the conversation and Leo had to fight to keep her tone even and calm.

“Ben doesn’t really know much about the draft and stuff, he’s not from here, grew up in Sydney.”

“I figured,” Jamie said, clearly disinterested. “Still, pretty bold move to live in a city like Toronto and not know about hockey.”

“He knows about hockey,” Leo shot back. “He doesn’t need to know about the draft and how it all works to know about hockey.”

“Who’s your favourite player in the league, bud?” Jamie asked Ben, ignoring Leo completely and with an air of cockiness that had her blood boiling.

“I uh, I don’t really follow it all that much,” Ben replied as he shifted uncomfortably on his barstool which put a smug little smile on Jamie’s face that he didn’t even try to hide.

“You should,” Jamie said as he brought his beer back up to his lips and took a small sip, setting it down on the table with more force than was necessary. “Ask Leo here, she knows what’s up.”

His eyes met Leo’s and instead of the temperate green waters he would usually find there he was met by a roaring flame and if looks could kill, Jamie knew he’d be dead three times over. Still, he swallowed down his pride and as much of his jealousy as he could while he changed the subject and asked Ben about Sydney and what growing up in Australia was like because while he hated every bit of this and while he wanted to walk right out of this bar and go home to mope, he knew how important this was to Leo and how much it would mean to her if Jamie got along with him. Jamie nodded along as Ben talked about his childhood and Sydney and gave a strained smile when he felt like social cues dictated it, all while sneaking glances at the watch on his wrist to see if enough time had passed for him to leave without it seeming rude. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ben, because no matter how much he wanted to hate the guy, even Jamie couldn’t deny that Ben seemed like a good man, with good priorities and a good upbringing, it was just that he wasn’t mature enough to set his jealousy aside so that he could be a good friend to Leo. But as he saw the smile on her face at the sight of her best friend and her boyfriend somewhat getting along, he resolved to at least keep trying, if only for her.

He’d learned that Ben had taken an interest in baseball since moving to Canada and while he couldn’t understand how he’d found baseball before hockey, he still made small talk about the Blue Jays and how their season was going so far. One thing that Jamie both appreciated and found incredibly painful all at the same time was the way that Ben talked about Leo like she was the sun, the moon and the stars and even though he tried to be strong and try not to let the fact that she was here with someone else and was happy bother him, because he loved Leo and he only ever wanted good things for her and it was what she deserved, after nursing his beer for a shade over two hours, Jamie decided that he couldn’t do it anymore and stepped down off his stool, ceremoniously taking his truck keys from out of his pocket.

“Well, it’s been lovely catching up but I gotta head out, Penny has a swimming thing in the morning and I said I’d go watch.”

“Wait, you never told me Penny had a thing. You know I would’ve come along,” Leo said with her brows furrowed.

“Yeah, well I figured you’d be busy.”

“You would have known if I was busy or not if you’d bothered to ask me in the first place,” she shot back, giving Jamie a pointed look that told him she didn’t buy any of his bullshit.

Jamie shook his head, a wordless indication that he wasn’t prepared to get into it with her right now and simply said, “I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, Leo, yeah? And it was really great to meet you Ben.”

He didn’t even give either of them chance to respond because no sooner were the words out of his mouth, he’d turned on his heel and was striding towards the door.

It wasn’t too long before Leo was letting herself, and only herself, into her apartment. She hadn’t planned to spend the night here, as Ben’s place was a lot closer to the bar they’d been to, but after the little stunt Jamie pulled she felt like she needed to be alone in her own space despite Ben’s best efforts to come home with her. She poured herself a large glass of wine and went to settle herself on the balcony to enjoy the last few moments of the quickly fading light and try to calm down. As she looked out across the small park opposite her apartment and swirled the wine around her glass she thought about what had happened with Jamie and tried to pinpoint at what point it had gone wrong. She wondered if maybe Ben had said something to get Jamie’s back up but as she replayed their interaction over and over again, she kept drawing blanks and that bothered her greatly. You see, Jamie’s whole demeanour was so unbelievably out of character for him and he’d been on the offensive from the get go and Leo couldn’t for the life of her understand why he would agree to meet Ben if he had such a problem. The more she allowed herself to stew over it, the angrier she got and, perhaps against her better judgement, she found herself reaching for her phone and scrolling through her contacts until she reached Jamie’s number.

She wasn’t sure what she would achieve by pressing the call button but if there was something going on with him she was determined to get it out of him one way or another. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if he would even pick up the phone, but sure enough after fifteen seconds or so, Jamie’s voice came through the speaker, rough and raw.

“Leo, I don’t wanna-“

“What’s going on with you?” she interrupted. “You agree to come out with us and then spend the first fifteen minutes being rude, stand-offish and doing some sort of weird macho routine like you’d been possessed by Johnny Bravo and then once you were finished doing that you were disinterested and cold for the rest of the time. Oh and don’t think I didn’t see through your little ‘Penny has a thing’ bit. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jamie.”

“Penny does have a-“

“Don’t lie to me, Jamie,” she spat bitterly. “Don’t.”

“God, you want me to explain and then don’t let me finish! Jesus, Leo!”

“And I don’t want you to insult me by feeding me some bullshit line and using your sister as an excuse to leave early but you tried to anyway! If you didn’t want to hang out with me you should’ve just said.”

The hurt that dripped from Leo’s voice was like a kick in the stomach to Jamie. His heart was screaming at him to tell her everything, to tell her than he loved hanging out with her, tell her that she wasn’t the problem, that she never was, to tell her that he loved her, that he was being stupid and childish and that he couldn’t bear the thought of her with another man, not when she had his whole heart. But his head was gagging his heart, silencing it until it was nothing more than a muffled cry, muted and abstract behind thick walls and yet, despite its conquest of impassioned subjugation, his head didn’t actually have anything to say and so he sat there, floundering in silence while Leo grew more impatient at the other end of the phone.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” and while she spoke quietly, there was a very distinct edge to her tone. “I thought that you’d want me to find someone, someone who could look out for me while you were gone and make me laugh like you do and it’s not like you’ve been sat at home alone every night, Jamie. I know you’ve been on dates and stuff and that’s good, I want you to go on dates and find someone and be happy because you’re, because you’re my friend and I want you to have someone and not feel like you’re alone. God, I was so lonely when you left, Jame and I don’t blame you for that. I’ve never blamed you because you were too good to stay. You had too much potential and you had to find your wings and you did and I am so, so proud of you. So fucking proud. I spend my life telling anyone who’ll fucking listen to me how proud I am of you. I cry myself hollow every single time you leave, it never gets any easier and from the second you leave I’m already counting down the days until you’re back, because you’re my favourite person, Jamie. You’ve always been my favourite person.”

Jamie sniffled quietly as he heard Leo’s soft cries filter through the speaker, dragging his hand through his hair in frustration because he knew she felt it too, all she had to do was say it out loud and it was so close that all she had to do was reach out to it.

“And I want you to be happy too,” Leo continued. “I want you to be so happy. Maybe we’ve been a part of each other for so long that we don’t know how to just be us on our own. Maybe we need to discover who we actually are because for our whole lives it’s been Jamie and Leo and maybe you need to learn how to just be Jamie and maybe I need to learn how to just be Leo.”

Jamie wiped at his eyes as the first of his tears began to fall and his heart shattered into a million little pieces. This is what it was like to blow it, to lose someone you loved. This is what it was like to have your whole world come crashing down because it felt like everything he ever known was shrinking into darkness and that he couldn’t breathe.

“Leo,” he pleaded but with no real words to follow up with. “Please.”

“I think,” Leo choked out as her sobs came harder as the words she never wanted to say sat high in her throat because while she was mad at him for how he’d acted earlier, he was still her Jamie and she still loved him more than anything. But sometimes people who love each other need some time apart to think and to grow and that is what had her saying, “I think we need to give each other some space.”

“No, Leo. Please. Please, babe. Don’t say that. I know I was an asshole tonight and-.”

“We need this Jamie, we do. I need this, because this, this fighting and hostility and all of this weirdness, it’s not us. It’s never been us. Please.”

Jamie sat on his couch stunned, the weight of her words echoing around him after she’d spoke them through the phone. This was everything he’d ever feared and now that it was really happening he didn’t even know how to begin to deal with that. You can hypothesise and spend your time thinking up all of these scenarios and everything you would say, how’d you deal with them, but nothing, nothing, can ever prepare you for the real thing and Jamie understood that now because it felt like his head was spinning and he couldn’t quite organise his thoughts.

“Jamie?”

Her quiet voice pulled him out from the depths of his own head and he gave a strangled ‘yeah’ in response.

“I just think we need some time,” she whispered, the tears threatening once more.

Jamie honestly didn’t know what else to say to her and the ‘okay’ he gave was so quiet and so abstract that he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure that he’d actually said it, he must have done though because the line went dead and Jamie was left sitting in the pieces of his shattered heart.

 Jamie couldn’t remember how long he’d cried for, he wasn’t even sure how many days he’d stayed locked inside his apartment before he felt strong enough to put on a brave face and eventually go outside. He knew that he only had himself to blame though, that he should’ve told her years ago that it was her and that she was it for him and now, because of his own stupidity, his own jealousy, he’d only succeeded in pushing her away and he wasn’t sure how he could fix this or if he could even fit it at all. It was a strange feeling, being in the same city as someone and yet feeling like they were a million miles away, it was even harder having to dodge questions from his family about how Leo was doing and what they’d been up to and even though he was certain that his mother could see straight through his lies, he was thankful that she could at least sense that this was something he didn’t want her to prod him about. For the first time in his professional playing career, Jamie made the decision to leave Toronto early and head back to Pittsburgh before the start of training camp, citing a desire to get a head start and get back in shape ready for the season ahead and while his parents found it all to be rather odd, Jamie did his best to assure them that everything was fine and that he’d see them the next time the Penguins played the Leafs in Toronto at Christmastime.

Leo wasn’t doing much better, despite whatever front she’d put up to try and convince herself and everybody else. She’d cried until she was nothing but a shell, figuring that the best thing to do was just to get it all out of her system so that she could look to put it all behind her and move on but stumbling every single time whenever she remembered that he’d called her ‘babe’, because that was new and she didn’t fully understand what exactly that had meant and why it made her heart leap into her throat every time she thought of the word rolling around on his tongue. To make matters worse, the day after she pushed Jamie away for some self-imposed space, Ben had stopped by her apartment, naturally concerned after she’d ignored all of his calls – not that it was anything personal, she’d been ignoring everyone.

He’d told her that he thought Jamie was in love with her and he also told her that he thought she loved Jamie too, like it was that simple and while Leo tried her best to assure him that her and Jamie were just friends, he wasn’t about to be convinced. Make no mistake, it wasn’t as if Ben was accusatory in anyway, in fact Leo would’ve preferred it if he was, because he was looking at her with far too much understanding and kindness than she was sure she deserved. She found it admirable really, how he was able to be so mature about it all and it just proved to her how childishly she had handled everything and just how blind to everything she’d been. The words Ben had left her with were ones that she’d meditate on for weeks, months even. He’d said, ‘I think you need to talk to Jamie, really talk to him. You both need to sit down and look at every single thing between you both because it’s all there, the love, the spark between you two. I’d never even met the guy before but I could just feel it between you guys as soon as you looked at each other. I saw the way he looked at you when he walked into that bar, he looked at you like you’d hung all the stars in the sky. That’s love, Leo and I know that deep down you feel that way too. If after you’ve done that you can still look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you don’t love him and that there’s nothing there then I’ll be here waiting and we can give this a shot, but I think you need to really think about what you want.’

It seemed like such a simple thing on paper, working out what she really wanted, but the reality of it all was that Leo wasn’t exactly sure what that looked like. One thing was clear though, without Jamie in her life she was miserable, but this had been her idea and she knew that it’d been one that had broken his heart and to slink back to him so soon, with her tail between her legs after knowing she’d hurt him by pushing him away, was too much for her silly little pride to handle. She told herself that she would call him, that she would reach out and apologise, but with every day that slipped by it felt like the space between them grew tenfold and something as simple as a phone call felt like it was as hard as climbing Everest.

Jamie had hoped that getting back to Dallas would take his mind off Leo, the sprawling void between them and his feelings for her, and he’d tried, he’d really honestly tried, even going so far as signing up to dating apps to try and drown her out that way, but it was useless. Leo was everywhere and nowhere all at once and Jamie felt like he was floating in outer space, surrounded by dust and emptiness when all he wanted was to feel like he was home; but as each day passed without any contact from her, the more lost Jamie felt and he was terrified that he’d never be found and that he’d be floating around in the nothingness forevermore.

 The months fell away much like the russet leaves of fall and Christmas was suddenly only a whisper away. Jamie had made preparations to stay in Toronto following the Penguins’ matinee game against the Leafs on December 23rd and would fly back into Pennsylvania the day after Christmas ready for his first game after the holiday on December 27th. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d been able to enjoy Christmas at home with his family since turning pro and even though his return to Toronto would bring him closer to Leo and while there was still a lot of uncertainty between them both given that they hadn’t actually spoken since August, he was looking forward to being able to unwind for a few days before the second push of the season began. He hadn’t told Leo that his plans would bring him back to the city but she’d figured as much when she’d discovered that the last game the Leafs would play before Christmas would be against Pittsburgh and she knew he would be staying once she realised Pittsburgh’s next game wasn’t for another few days.

She knew that she should reach out while he was home, not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because she hadn’t actually told her parents that she’d not spoken a word to him in the last four months and it would look incredibly weird if she didn’t see him at least once while he was back in town. There were a number of reasons why she’d not said anything about the spat that she’d had with Jamie, the main one being because it would open a whole can of worms that she absolutely did not want opening, it would open her up to questions from her parents and they were questions that she didn’t want to face and didn’t really have answers for. The reason she didn’t have answers to those questions was because while she’d finally accepted that Jamie wasn’t just a friend, she also knew that she’d blown any real chance with him because of the way she’d acted so it was far easier to maintain that air of indifference and pretend like there was nothing there so that she didn’t have to deal with the reality that she’d ruined everything with her own stupidity.

She’d toyed with the idea of sending him a quick text message to check in, but after everything they’d been through it seemed a little bit impersonal, although it didn’t have her picking up the phone either. She’d wondered if Jamie would even want to see her while he was home for those few days over the holidays, after all, for all she’d been the one to impose their time apart, he hadn’t exactly reached out to her. What did she expect though? She knew deep down Jamie was always going to respect her wishes, even if they broke his heart, but it was easier to ignore that and instead fester in her own misery.

The decision on whether or not to see Jamie was made for her though, with her mother telling her that the Oleksiaks thought it would be nice for them all to get together before Christmas and that arrangements had been made for them to all attend the game followed by dinner at The Butcher Chef. Leo couldn’t help but be a little bit surprised at this, considering how awful she’d been to Jamie and she was shocked that his family would want to spend more than a second with her, which could only lead her to believe that Jamie had deployed the same tactic of silence with his parents as she had done with her own. It should have been funny, how similar they were, but it was that similarity that had dropped them into this mess in the first place. If only one of them had been mature enough to look at all that there was between them and take that leap of faith, perhaps she’d be overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Jamie instead of that sickening anxious feeling that knotted her stomach. It was ironic, she thought, how Jamie had always thought of her as being brave because right now, as she looked back on her behaviour and how she’d handled it all, she’d been anything but.

Leo was more than a little relieved to discover that they’d be meeting the Oleksiaks inside of Scotiabank Area because it meant that Jamie wouldn’t be with them and she could at least catch up with Richard, Alison, Hayley and Penny without any massive amounts of awkwardness. She could play off her recent and sudden distance on work being crazy and hopefully, just hopefully, by the end of the game she’d be feeling relaxed enough that seeing Jamie wouldn’t be the big deal she’d made it out to be in her head. As she took her seat in the stands she found herself sandwiched between her mother and Penny, the youngest Oleksiak. Leo had always loved Jamie’s sisters, especially Penny, seeing a lot of herself in the younger girl and they’d always been partners in crime when it came to winding Jamie up. They’d talked about Penny’s swimming and how she’d been and the thundering in Leo’s chest had begun to settle somewhat until Penny had mentioned how down Jamie had seemed the last time they’d talked and that she hoped Leo could give him one of her world-famous pep talks to snap him out of his funk. If Penny had felt Leo stiffen beside her at that, she mercifully didn’t say anything and continued to watch the game. Leo couldn’t focus though, not when the guilt had suddenly jumped up from where she’d shoved it deep down into her stomach and now felt like it had lodged itself within her windpipe. She had taken to focusing on the game clock, counting along with the numbers until she could push through the tightening in her chest and set her features into something that was a bit more neutral instead of the tight-lipped grimace she was wearing. Leo was thankful that the game on the ice was end-to-end because no one had seemed to notice the turmoil she found herself in and no questions were asked.

Leo declined the invitation from Alison and Richard to go down with them to wait for Jamie to come out of the locker room, simply stating that she would keep her parents company and wait with them upstairs and was relieved when they didn’t press the issue or make insistences. It was around forty minutes later when she saw the tall figure of Jamie’s dad appear in the foyer, Alison and the girls close behind with Jamie bringing up the rear. It was like one of those cliché romance movie moments, where two people find each other’s eyes across a crowded room and it feels like the whole world stops spinning, except most of the people had filtered out of the stadium by now and the space between them felt so vast that it would take lightyears to cross.

He was cautious, Leo noticed, but his eyes were just as soft as they’d always been as they took her in. She looked good, Jamie thought, but there was a sadness in her smile and the spark he’d always associated with her was barely there. He wanted so desperately to pull her tight against his chest and tell her that he was sorry over and over again until he was sure that she believed him, but this wasn’t the time nor the place so he settled for an awkward wave and a ‘hey’ that sounded too nervous and too hesitant to be greeting an old friend with, instantly regretting it when he saw the tight-lipped smile and too formal ‘hello’ that she gave in reply. Their parents exchanged a serious of glances that ranged from confusion to concern but much to Leo and Jamie’s reprieve, Alison simply clapped her hands together and remarked how lovely it was that everyone was back together again. Leo made sure to stick close to her parents during the short walk to the restaurant because while she wasn’t certain that Jamie would try to address the weirdness between them and while she also knew that it was a conversation that they absolutely needed to have, she wasn’t sure that a five minute walk within earshot of their families was the best time.

An awkward exchange at the door to the restaurant, where the two of them spent a good twenty seconds inviting each other to go in ahead, earned the pair strange looks from their parents and Penny had uttered ‘weirdos’ as she side-eyed them while they were all escorted to their table. The fact that they’d purposefully chosen seats as far away from each other as possible raised their fathers’ eyebrows while Alison and Diana shared a worried glance. Penny was giving her brother a pointed look from behind her menu before flicking her gaze across to Leo, who was studying the wine list as if it were written in hieroglyphics, and back to Jamie, who could only respond with a pleading look and a shake of his head. When the order was taken Jamie couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the prawn, avocado and chilli bruschetta Leo had picked for her appetizer. For as long as he’d known her they’d been united in their mutual hatred of the green pitted fruit and despite the fact that it was entirely plausible that her taste-buds had changed in the four months since they’d last spoken and despite it being something so incredibly small, and so incredibly innocuous, he couldn’t help but feel further away from her than ever before. The feeling only grew as he listened to her talk to his mother about what she’d been up to in her spare time, not even knowing that she’d taken up watercolour painting and had been to a belly-dancing taster class that she’d thoroughly enjoyed and was considering signing up to. It might have only been four months apart, but it might as well have been an entire lifetime that had passed and the ache in his chest made it impossible to focus on anything else other than the overwhelming sadness he felt at the recognition that everything had changed between them and that things would never be the same again.

The pair soldiered on through dinner, seeming to talk to everyone else but each other and while there was the occasional shared glance, it never lasted for any longer than a couple of seconds before one of them looked away and carried on like it had never even happened. It was all getting a bit much for Jamie, with the way that it felt like he was losing her with each second that passed and the way it felt like she was at the other side of the world and not at the other side of a table. He wanted to scream into that void, scream that this was all stupid, that he was sorry and that he missed her so much that he felt like he was going to die, but he didn’t. Instead he’d told Bill all about Pittsburgh and the season so far and made small talk about what kind of vehicle he should buy next. Leo found herself getting agitated at how forced it all felt, how uncomfortable she was and all she wanted was for dessert to be over so they could split the bill and say their goodbyes so that she could lock herself in her apartment and drown her despair in a bottle of wine. It killed her that the man she’d known from being a little boy, a man who knew her better than anyone else in the world, felt like a complete stranger, but above that, it killed her that this had been all of her own making. There was so much she should have done differently and even more that she should have said, but instead her own stupidity and stubbornness had pushed away the one thing in her life she wanted the most and she’d convinced herself that Jamie had only agreed to this and sorted tickets for the game tonight because he knew it would make his mother happy. That thought forced Leo to swallow down the emotion that sat high in her throat because it was just another reminder of every BBQ and every party the two families had ever shared together and how it all felt that little bit different now. Not only had she ruined things between her and Jamie, but she’d also managed to ruin things for everyone else too.

Not a moment too soon for Leo, the two families were paying the check and found themselves outside in the chilly evening air. Leo let herself be passed down the line of Oleksiaks for a goodbye hug, chastising herself each time for how stiff was but still not able to let herself relax despite the awareness, until she was confronted with Jamie’s large frame. She couldn’t not hug him with how it felt like all eyes were on them both and so she allowed herself to be pulled awkwardly into his body while her own was filled with tension that she was sure everyone could see but couldn’t help all the same.

“Goodnight,” Jamie mumbled. “Have a good Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Leo replied, voice robotic and distant as she pulled away a little too quickly. “You too.”

An awkward silence descended upon the group that had Jamie shifting uncomfortably and Leo drawing her coat tighter around her for reasons unrelated to the cold Toronto air. Leo could tell her mother was desperate to say something and she was praying to anyone who was listening that this would be one of those things that Diana would let slide without pressing further. Someone somewhere must have heard her silent pleas though because her mother said her goodbyes once more and wished Jamie a safe trip back to Pittsburgh before the trio headed back towards the car. Nobody spoke for a few beats as they settled into their seats and put on their belts but Leo knew that the barrage of incoming questions was imminent judging by the look in her father’s eye as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

“It’s nothing,” Leo mumbled as she adjusted her coat.

“Honey, that was about as far from nothing as you could get,” her mother replied as she turned in her seat to look at Leo. “I coulda cut the atmosphere between you two back there with a knife.”

“Honestly, mom, it’s nothing and I’d really rather not discuss it right-“

“Not an option,” her father cut in, a stern edge to his tone. “I’m pulling rank and I’m playing the ‘dad’ card here. What happened back there was painful to watch and it made dinner incredibly awkward so I’ll ask you again, what happened between you two?”

Leo exhaled into the darkness of the car as the city lights passed by outside, unsure where to even begin. She decided to lead with the obvious and hoped that the rest would follow.

“We fought,” she said matter-of-factly. “We had a stupid argument and we haven’t spoken since August.”

“Oh, Leonora,” her mother sighed. “What could the two of you have possibly fought over that stopped you from talking for four months?”

“Remember when I was dating Ben?”

Diana hummed in acknowledgment.

“Well, that night that Ben and I went out for drinks, the night before we broke up, we met up with Jamie and he was… he was kind of an asshole to Ben.”

Bill chuckled softly at that, a million miles away from the harshness of his tone not a few moments ago and shook his head which earned him a glare from Leo into the rearview mirror.

“Oh come on,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re a bright girl, Leo. You must have realised that he was acting out of jealousy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad. Why the hell would Jamie be jealous of Ben?”

“For someone who is so incredibly smart you really are oblivious,” her mother replied with an exasperated sigh. “That boy is head over heels for you. Has been for years.”

“What? Don’t be insane!” Leo scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Jamie and I are-“

“Just friends,” Bill interrupted. “Sure ya are.”

“We are.”

Leo crossed her arms over her chest, not caring that it made her look like she’d regressed back into her teenage years, especially with the frustrated pout that had formed on her lips. Her father sighed in mild frustration, too full of food to have much patience for his daughter’s stubbornness.

“You’re just too stubborn to see anythin’ else. Talk some sense into her, Di, would ya?”

Diana surveyed Leo with a soft expression, perceptive enough to know that her daughter was struggling with some inner tumult but was too bull-headed to verbalise it and too proud to ask for help.

“Nora Noo,” she said softly to get Leo’s eyes on hers. “You must know by now that Jamie loves you,” Leo went to speak but Diana anticipated her protests and cut her off gently. “And not just as a friend. He loves you and I’d hazard a guess that you love him too.”

“He doesn’t love me, mom. We didn’t speak for four months.”

“And was that his idea?”

Leo looked away and her silence told her mother all she needed to know.

“I didn’t think so. Sounds to me like he was just giving you the space you asked for.”

“Why would you assume it was me who asked for space? I never said that,” Leo protested.

“You didn’t have to,” Diana countered, her eyes keen on Leo. “I know you well enough to know that you were clearly struggling with all these feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, you were mad at him and the easiest thing for you to do was push him away and because Jamie loves you so much, he respected your wishes, even though he’s quite clearly been struggling too.”

Leo didn’t have an answer to that because she knew that any words that came out of her mouth would’ve been a lie. Her mother had hit the nail on the head and she knew it too because while her eyes were still soft on Leo, there was the hint of a smirk on her lips and she knew she had her daughter stumped. She decided not to push the issue anymore though and shifted in her seat to face forwards again, leaving Leo sat in the back of the car, brows knitted together and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She didn’t speak another word until they pulled up outside of her apartment building and even then all she could manage was a subdued goodbye followed up with ‘see you both tomorrow.’

If Leo could’ve been a fly on the wall in the Oleksiaks’ car, she’d have laughed at the fact that Jamie was being subjected to a similar, if not identical, lecture from his parents as the one she’d received. They’d get a good kick out of the absurdity of it all later on when the dust had settled, but Jamie didn’t know that yet and his face was currently drawn in pensive thought while he mulled over his mother’s words that had scarily echoed Diana’s to Leo in their sentiments. He knew she was right, about all of it and the more he thought about it, the more he began to understand that this might be the only chance he had to make things right before Leo slipped away from him for good. It was that realization and that overwhelming fear of losing the one thing in his life he was sure of that had him asking his father to turn the car around and to take him to Leo’s apartment.

 The warm glow of the Christmas lights in Leo’s apartment would have ordinarily brought a smile to her face but she was too weary to fall for their charms tonight and it was the kind of weariness that she was sure couldn’t be fixed with sleep. Seeing Jamie tonight had made everything exponentially harder and only served as a painful and bitter reminder of just how bad she’d let things get between them. She should’ve reached out, she should’ve stared down everything that was right in front of her but she was too afraid to see and she should have said everything that she knew to be true in her heart and that Jamie deserved to hear. She wiped the makeup off her face angrily as she tried to supress a sniffle, a too-big Huskies sweatshirt that had belonged to Jamie hanging off her frame that served as a symbol of her wilful suffering. She knew that it wasn’t the best idea to try and numb the pain with a bottle of wine, but she didn’t know what else to do in the moment and so she collected the bottle of medicinal Riesling from the fridge, grabbed herself the biggest wine glass she owned and took them into her living room.

She was just about to bring the glass up to her lips when a loud and urgent knock at her door made her jump right out of her skin. She debated ignoring it but it became so insistent and unrelenting that she was worried the noise would disturb her neighbours and so she begrudgingly set her glass down before dragging her body from the couch and to the door. On the other side of it was a frantic looking Jamie, chest heaving from presumably taking the stairs and a slightly wild look in the usually calm ocean of his eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his otherwise resolute delivery.

“You know you can,” Leo breathed as she moved out of the way to let him in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it as she watched him carefully.

The silence stretched between them, Leo waiting nervously for Jamie to speak while he took a few settling breaths. He knew that he had to get this right because he felt like one wrong word would lose him everything. It was the same reason why Leo maintained a tentative reticence.

A moment.

That was all it would take.

One moment that sat like a void and one moment that could change everything, whichever way it went. This was such a moment, so big that it felt like entire galaxies could fit inside of it and still leave room for more. He waited for her to speak for what felt like forever while she stood on a knife edge, knowing that whatever words come out of her mouth next would rearrange both of their lives in ways that they understood would make it impossible to return to how things were not even ten minutes ago, not that either of them wanted to go back to that.

Yes, it was moment that was terrifying in every conceivable way.

But it was theirs.

“What happened to us?” Jamie wondered aloud, breaking the deafening silence. “How the hell did we get to this?”

“You were the one who was an ass, Jamie, not me,” Leo shot back, perhaps angrier than was necessary given the fact that Jamie’s question wasn’t delivered accusingly. “I know I should’ve told you about Ben and I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings by not saying anything sooner but that toxic masculinity bullshit at the bar? Really?”

“You don’t fucking see it, do you?” Jamie laughed humourlessly, Leo’s tone causing a flicker of anger within his chest. “Even now, when I’m here right in front of you, you’re still too stubborn to see it or maybe you do see it but you just don’t have the balls to tell me that you don’t feel the same way.”

“Don’t you dare make assumptions about how I feel,” Leo snapped, the tears springing to her eyes in an instant. “Don’t you dare. You have no idea what these past four months-“

“Of course I do!” Jamie spat. “I’ve been living it every single day since you told me you needed space! I wake up and it hurts, I go to bed and it still fucking hurts. I felt like I was dying every single day. You wanted this and it fucking broke my heart, Leo, it broke my heart but I did it anyway because you asked me to and I would do anything for you, anything in the whole world and yet you couldn’t even be honest with yourself and see what was right in front of you.”

Leo’s heart splintered and cracked at the agony etched into Jamie’s features, agony that she knew she’d caused and she couldn’t stop the tears from breaking the dam she was precariously keeping them behind and surging forward as Jamie’s own silent tears slipped out onto his cheeks.

“All I wanted was for you to love me like I love you, Leo. That was it.”

Jamie’s broken voice pulled the sob from her lungs but even though it felt like she couldn’t breathe and even though she knew she’d made such a mess of things, she still managed to catch those three words and hang onto them like they were a life line that would keep her from drifting away into outer space. They were also the words that had her legs carrying her towards him, closing the distance and pushing everything that separated them to the side until she was pressed tightly against his chest with her arms tight around him.

“I do, Jamie,” she cried. “I do love you. I love you more than anything else in this world and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I pushed you away, that I ignored everything for so long. You’re my person, Jame, you always have been, ever since we were kids, long before I even understood what love was. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Jame.”

Jamie held her tightly within his arms, frightened that she might float away if he didn’t keep her steadfast against him and buried his face into her hair, his own quiet tears falling into the umber strands as he shushed her gently to quieten her cries.

“I’m sorry too, babe. I should have told you, I should have said something, I just didn’t know what to say and I was so scared that I’d lose you and then when I found out you were dating, I just, I hated the idea of you with anyone else and I know that was wrong and I know that I should’ve just told you how I was feeling but the thought of you not feeling the same way, God, it killed me.”

Leo lifted her head, the wet jungle of her eyes shining like the Amazon meeting the lagoon of his as her hand reached up to caress his strong jaw and Jamie nuzzled into the touch before he pressed a soft kiss to her palm, everything else melting away until it was just the feeling of her skin and the gentle press of her body against his.

“There’s no one else like you Jamieson Oleksiak,” she murmured softly as her thumb swept gently across his cheek. “No one.”

“I love you, Leo,” Jamie whispered, his eyes shining with tears before he slowly dipped his head down to bring his lips to hers and captured them in a tender kiss, their first kiss.

She melted into him instantly, her hands moving to the back of his neck while his found the backs of her thighs to lift her up and wrap her legs around his waist. He kissed her like he was suffocating and she was his oxygen, kissed her for every time he should’ve told her that he loved her and kissed her for every day that he should have already been kissing her and for everything Jamie was giving her, Leo gave it back tenfold. Their mouths moved together in a complete unity which betrayed the fact that they hadn’t already been doing this for years, each knowing what the other needed with each pass of their tongues and every pause for breath.

Leo’s fingers tangled themselves into Jamie’s short curls and the gentle tug she gave them earned her a deep groan and a flex of his palms against her thighs. It was instinctive, really, to carry her into her bedroom and though Leo should’ve felt anxious about sharing that final part of herself with Jamie, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to do. He removed her clothes carefully, almost dutifully, exalting her skin with his mouth like her body was a temple and every kiss was a holy offering. He learned her body like lyrics from his favourite song and remembered every sigh and every flex of her fingers against his skin whenever he did something that she liked until he was confident that he would be able recite it word for word if she asked him to. He’d never felt more at home than he did between her thighs with her arms wrapped around the broad expanse of his back and with every breath and every moan shared between them both, he knew with complete certainty that she was it for him and while he didn’t know the exact details of what their life together would look like, he also knew that it didn’t really matter as long as he had her.

They moved together between the sheets as sure and as steady as the falling snow outside, in their own world where nothing and no one could touch them and all that mattered was what they were giving to each other in that moment. Leo carved her name into Jamie’s skin as her nails raked across his shoulders, a wordless encouragement for more of him. She was cradled within his arms, safe and warm and home while his lips brushed along her jaw, whispers of love murmured into her skin with every breath he took. He quickened his pace as he sensed the wave begin to grow inside of her, swallowing her moans with a kiss when the wave finally broke against the shore and she tumbled over the edge. He stayed with her as she rode the crest of her orgasm, working her through it while he chased his own high.

“Fuck, Leo. I’m so close, babe,” he gritted, hips driving into hers.

“Let go, Jame…”

He kissed her roughly as his hips faltered, spilling inside of her with a low groan and shallow thrusts until he was spent. Leo’s lips brushed along his jaw, pressing kisses along the sharp angle of his face and against the shell of his ear.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, Jamie smiling against her neck before pulling out and rolling onto his back, nestling her into his side until she settled with her head against his chest and her arm draped over his stomach. He dropped his lips to press a kiss against her forehead, gentle and chaste and full of all the love her had for her while Leo’s fingers traced along his ribs, leaving a ripple of goose bumps in their wake.

They laid in silence for a while, limbs tangled in the sheets while the snow fell silently outside. It was a peace that reflected the one they both felt within their souls and Leo wasn’t sure she ever wanted to leave the solace and serenity of their cocoon, the steady thump of Jamie’s heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest had her in a trance-like state and it was Jamie’s soft chuckle that pulled her back to the present.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly into her hair.

“Yeah.” She shifted and propped herself up on her elbow so that she was looking at Jamie, smiling at the peaceful expression she found resting on his features. “Just happy.”

He reached out to cup the back of her head and pulled her in to place three gentle pecks to her lips, smiling against her mouth before he pulled away to look into her eyes and tuck the loose strands of her hair back.

“Good,” he grinned. “Because this would be really fuckin’ awkward if you weren’t.”

Leo laughed at that, free and easy and Jamie felt like he could fly with the way her head was thrown back and her eyes had crinkled with her bright smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, it really would.”

She looked at him for a breath, the smile still playing on her lips before she moved her eyes to the tattoo at his ribs and traced the lines of it lightly with her fingertips. She knew that this was good and right and everything she’d ever wanted for so long and she knew that it would take a while before she could truly forgive herself for everything she’d put Jamie through, but the rhythmic stroking of Jamie’s fingers against her lower back kept her grounded in this moment with him before her mind could take off running while she focused on the black lines of ink on his skin.

“I um wasn’t completely honest with you about that tattoo,” Jamie mumbled.

“What about?”

“When you asked if I’d got it for you.”

Leo shook her head gently. “I was only teasing, Jame.”

“Yeah, I know,” he acknowledged. “But it really always was for you, at least in some part.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Remember that I told you that it represented bravery and courage?” He asked, Leo nodding in response. “Well those were things that I learned from you. You taught me what it meant to be brave, what it meant to live fearlessly and to be brave and chase my dreams. That lion is you Leo and you’ve been with me. You’ve been with me this whole time.”

Leo didn’t quite know what to say to that because while she’d always quietly and selfishly imagined that it was for her, having it confirmed by Jamie was an entirely different ball game and it was a little overwhelming but in the best possible way. She instead curled herself back into his side and rested her head against his strong chest, her arm draping heavily around him. Jamie wrapped her tight in his arms, nuzzling his nose into her hair and pressing soft kisses to the crown of her head while he breathed her in, all pineapple and coconut and Leo.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked quietly.

“You know you can.”

“What was with the avocado tonight?”

Jamie was slightly taken aback by the gentle laugh Leo let out against his chest but didn’t move from where his nose was nestled amongst the wild waves on top of her head.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Leo admitted, her lips quirking into a small smile against Jamie’s skin. “Guess I just wanted to try it to see if I still hated it.”

“And I’m guessing by the fact you left half of it on your plate-“

“Still disgusting,” Leo interjected with a laugh which Jamie matched in earnest before pressing another kiss into her hair while she went quiet again once more.

She closed her eyes and let the steady thud of Jamie’s heartbeat quiet her mind that had taken itself off to the races and was trying to work out how this would all work and where that would leave them when Jamie had to go back to Pittsburgh in a couple of days. Jamie sensed her though, so in tune with her and her body and her mind to pick up on the subtle little cues that told him she was going down the rabbit hole, so he called her back to him with a gentle whisper of her name.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I just,” she sighed quietly. “I just don’t know how this looks for us, Jame. I just got you and now it feels like I’m gonna lose you all over again. It’s different this time, you leaving and I know it’s gonna-.” She trailed off, sniffling slightly as the pain of Jamie leaving town washed over her and filled her eyes with fresh tears.

“Hey, hey”, Jamie soothed, tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to get her eyes on his. “It’s okay, babe. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? Pittsburgh isn’t far away and you can come and stay whenever you want. We’ll get through the rest of this season and then when I’m home in the summer we can work out all the details, yeah?”

Leo saw the intensity and the certainty in Jamie’s eyes and she saw the truth in them, their truth and Leo knew that whatever happened, Jamie would make sure that they were okay, so she nodded her head slowly and buried her face against the crook of his neck.

“We’re gonna be fine, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “Let’s not worry about that right now, yeah? Let’s just focus on this moment.”

He pressed a sequence of kisses to the top of her head and settled her comfortably against him, drawing little circles with his fingertips at her hips until he felt her body go heavy as she slipped into sleep.

Jamie laid there, his eyes drifting to the window where the snow was still falling heavily outside and smiled to himself despite the fact that he knew Leo was right. He didn’t know how this would look for them either and he didn’t know what the future had in store for him, he didn’t even know if he was going to be in Pittsburgh next year and God only knows where he would end up. But none of that really mattered, not really, because when he looked at Leo fast asleep in his arms, the woman who was his whole world and always had been, he knew that wherever he went, wherever his path would lead him, he would always have a home in her heart and now that he knew that he had a home in hers too, everything else was just confetti.

Love isn’t always fireworks. It’s not always loud or in your face or even a moment where you lock eyes with a stranger across the room and fall head over heels at first sight. Sometimes love is quiet. Sometimes love grows slowly like an oak tree, starting out as a tiny acorn before springing tiny shoots and leaves and while it might not look like much at first, the roots grow deep and strong and nurture the sapling until it becomes something big and beautiful. It happens so slowly over time that it can be difficult to notice it happening at all, but it grows all the same, bigger and bigger until it’s mighty and proud and impossible to ignore. The tree is strong, unmoveable, enduring and weathers whatever storm comes its way because it’s had the time and the devotion to mature into something truly remarkable. That is the kind of love that many only ever get to dream of and Jamie and Leo would be thankful every second of every day that they were lucky enough to find that in each other because even though we live in a universe of infinite possibilities, there are some things in life that just make sense and when it’s good and it’s right, it will always find a way.

[lunannex]

Writing Latino characters 

Before I get into these tips/things to avoid when portraying a character who's Latino, please keep in mind that I'm speaking for no one but myself. I'm just one voice, and there's so many other things that go into writing Latinos that I'm sure I'll forget to mention. And for anyone who might see this, please consider reblogging as these are some things that I feel like all non-Latinos should take into consideration.

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•Latinos aren't just from one country alone. We come from a large variety of places (ex. Puerto Rico, Cuba, Perú, Costa Rica, México, Argentina, etc.).

•Not all Latino cultures are the same!!! I cannot stress this one enough. We all have different cultures based on where we're located. This means that we all have our own traditions, national holidays, dialect, names, last names, foods, music, etc!

•To expand on the food topic more: stop associating all Latinos to tacos, burritos and nachos. And additionally, just because a character is from a certain country doesn't mean that they only eat foods that are native to that place.

•Just to clear this up real quick: Latino is NOT a race!!! Stop treating it like it is!!

•When writing a story, it's important to think beyond just the plot and story you wanna tell. You have to think about how and why you're using the characters that you are. Make sure that each character is there to serve a purpose. Representation for the sake of feeling woke and inclusive is tokenism, plain and simple.

•On that note, representation points do not count if that “representation” just means that the minorities end up dead. Or even if they're just there to be tortured or mistreated. I hope I don't have to explain why this is a shitty and racist thing to do.

•Don't rely on cultural symbols in order to sell your character. I get that you might want to emphasize the diversity and show just how inclusive you are, but you have to slow down and think, "Is this detail actually important to the character, or is it detracting their development/the plot?". Because believe it or not, while it's an important part of who we are, our personalities don't center around our cultures—shocker! 

•If you feel like you're portraying something in a racist way then...you probably are. Some little details aren't obvious at first, since a lot of racism tends to be a lot more subtle than you'd think, but it's always good to double check. It's difficult to authentically tell stories with characters that exist outside of your own lived experiences. A lot of these things are easily googled and capable of being researched, but make sure that these sources are from actual Latinos because non-Latinos do not get to decide what does and doesn't count as racism to us.

•A problem that usually arises when writing characters of colour is falling into racialized stereotypes or making them one dimensional. It's an easy trick to fall into but please try your best to avoid it. 

•One of the most well known Latino stereotypes is making the characters sexy, flirtatious and promiscuous. All it does is perpetuate this unrealistic perception of our already romanticized culture. This doesn't mean that your character can't flirt, but centralizing their entire personality on their sexual appeal is harmful. 

•The stereotype that the majority of Latinos work as janitors, maids, and gardeners couldn’t be farther from the truth. There is nothing wrong with having these types of jobs, but they aren't the only ones that we're capable of acquiring and it drives me up a wall to see just how much it keeps getting reinforced throughout all different types of media. It's placing us in a very limited box which is extremely damaging. Latinos are capable of having all kinds of occupations, whether it’s as doctors, lawyers, actors, artists, journalists...—you name it!

•For the love of God, don't make them or their parents abusive. We've had enough of the angry Latino trope and if you're the type of person that portrays minorities as violent and aggressive for absolutely no reason whatsoever then I'll automatically assume the worst of you.

•Some other stereotypes include: the drug dealer, the immigrant, the lazy Latino, the Latin lover, the fiery Latina, etc. Just by doing a quick Google search, you'll get a large number of sources that'll inform you of all the stereotypes and tropes out there that you should do your best to avoid.

•I've noticed that a large portion of the Latinos shown in media are portrayed as though they know every single aspect about their country and that's...honestly pretty unrealistic. Many people, regardless of where they're from, mostly just have a general understanding of their country's history and that's it.

•Latinos are diverse. Afro-Latinos exist. White Latinos exist. Mixed Latinos exist. Muslim Latinos exist. Jewish Latinos exist. Plus-sized Latinos exist. Curly haired Latinos exist. LGBTQ+ Latinos exist. Disabled Latinos exist. Write about them. You shouldn't just focus on representing the types of Latinos that you and the rest of society consider "acceptable".  

•Not all Latinos speak Spanish. Don't forget that Portuguese is another one of Latin America's main languages or that there are a lot of Latinos out there that don't speak either of those languages. That doesn't make them less Latino in the slightest, whatever languages they do or don't know shouldn't determine how valid their identity is.

•When writing bilingual characters, do NOT use Google Translate. We can tell when you do because it is glaringly obvious. Reach out to someone who actually speaks the language if you want dialogue to flow more naturally and accurately. And if possible, reach out to someone who shares your character's nationality since the expressions and dialect tend to be different depending on where they're from. 

•Most bilingual people don't switch languages mid-sentence nor do we "forget to switch back". This is a MASSIVE pet peeve of mine. Yes, it CAN and DOES happen –mostly when we're around someone who we're very close and comfortable with– but most bilingual people tend to just speak English to non-Spanish or non-Portuguese speakers. These "language switches" tend to translate in a very awkward and stilted way when written into actual dialogue, especially when it's done by non-bilingual people. 

•Language switches usually happen when someone forgets a certain word or phrase in the language they're speaking in. Ex. "No encuentro el –¿cómo se dice?– el screwdriver." (This is something that's personally done by me at least multiple times a day. And it's not the best shown example, but it gets the point across)

•Do NOT have your Latino character say something flirty/sexual to someone who doesn't understand the language they're speaking in. That counts as fetishization and it's disgusting. 

•If you're writing a romantic relationship, please don't have the Latino call their significant other mami or papi. It's what we call our moms and dads respectively.

•As I mentioned before, people are far more than just their culture. So, just treat your characters with the same respect and importance as you would any other character. Minorities should be allowed to have just as many layers as white characters. Humans are complex beings, and just as you should give a white character a reasoning behind their actions and behavior, writing minorities warrants the exact same thing.

•And lastly, it's okay to mess up. All you have to do is own up, take accountability and work towards bettering yourself so you don't make the same mistake again. 

[youmeandteddybears]

Why Sentiment is unlike any other SiHJR couple and the start of a new era.

Credits: I now live in the SiHJR Discord server created by @nutton-of-tata ​You can blame all those wonderful people there for encouraging me to complete this multi-page analysis of Junjou Sentiment. Thanks y’all, Ily.

You may have noticed that Ijuuin Kyo is not my favorite, but I am a BIG fan of the pairing of Ijuuin x Yanase. The main reason is because Sentiment is rooted in reality more than any other existing couple. 

Their backstory is the most believable out of any other relationship we have seen in the stories. The two start off working together with Yanase as Ijuuin’s assistant. Yanase was originally a fan of The Kan and jumped on the opportunity to work with a legend in the industry who created a story he loved. Meeting Ijuuin, however, did not meet his expectations. He found himself mystified, in a good and a bad way, by Ijuuin’s personality.

The two men share a mutual admiration and respect for one another in their professional fields. They genuinely compliment one another on the other’s talent and skill. Before getting together they had already developed a sense of light flirtation in their conversations. The first shared quirk is their love of food without seasoning. It may be simple, but before meeting each other they had never known anyone with the same sense of taste. It’s the beginning of many similarities between them.

In Yanase Yuu no Baii Chapter 1 after finishing the new release of The Kan both men are exhausted, hungry, and burnt out. Yanase finds Ijuuin collapsed in bathroom and cooks him dinner. They open up about their past and help themselves to some wine.

Now, the BL trope of using alcohol is so overdone, but in Sentiment it is unlike other BL stories I have read. It doesn’t hinder their connection or make them mindless sex zombies. They are fully present in the moment. All of their discussions have an authentic feel to them, but this one especially. They have this level of vulnerability and awkwardness that is very humanizing. They are astounded at how similar their situations are. Each of them has an unrequited love with a man, who is in love with someone else, and they have never been with another man before. 

Ijuuin and Yanase have felt like outsiders working a job that is inherently lonely. They both struggle with their self-confidence and wonder about if they are good enough in their professional and personal lives. Opening up to each other they reach this kind of “fuck it” mentality. Especially Yanase, which we get to see firsthand since the chapter is told in his point of view. This pulls them in a very natural direction towards physical intimacy.

Even with the alcohol and the go-with-the flow mindset, there is so much consent and respect of boundaries in this chapter. I did not peg Ijuuin Kyo for being the epitome of consent after his stint with Romantica, but wow he surprised me. Seriously, just the communication during sex alone makes Sentiment a huge deal. 

When the two wake up the next morning, Yanase realizes he needs to go to an assignment. When he tells Ijuuin his immediate response is to get dressed and drive him there! Then Ijuuin straight up asks Yanase to date him. Yanase tells him they don’t have to worry about it, they can blame it on the exhaustion and alcohol. But Ijuuin, being Ijuuin, is determined. He senses a real connection with Yanase and doesn’t want to let it go. He wants to learn more about this person and sees the chance of being able to open up to someone else.

We see Ijuuin try to use some of his cunning and skillful manipulation to goad Yanase, but Yanase calls him out on it. “You were leading me on just now, weren’t you?” This is a key factor in why Sentiment has the potential to be a strong couple. In this regard, Yanase is more of an equal to Ijuuin. He is not going to be a doormat for Ijuuin’s antics

The line that seems to rub people the wrong way is when Ijuuin mentions the two of them dating to move on from their past unrequited loves. Is this a rebound? You bet! They are both completely cognizant of this fact. Ijuuin even tells Yanase that he will back off if it works out between Yanase and the other guy. When Yanase tells him that will not be the case, Ijuuin is a mix of relieved, amused by yet another similarity, and sympathetic. Ijuuin takes the plunge and asks Yanase out again and Yanase dives in right along with him by agreeing.

Sentiment is unlike other SiHJR couples for how it is grounded in reality. It breaks free from a lot of classic BL tropes that SiHJR created/ parodies /embraces. It would have been SO EASY to turn Sentiment into a “will they or won’t they,” where they spend chapters questioning the nature of their relationship. There’s no blackmail, no dramatic scenes, no punches, no heart-pounding declaration of true love. It’s two people sensing a connection and deciding to take a chance.

With Sentiment, and more recent releases of Romantica, we are getting impressive characterization wrapped in authenticity. It feels like a new era for the story. When will Nostalgia get this kind of treatment? Hahahaha! A girl can dream, right?

[sneezefiction]

intoxicated

Akaashi x Reader - Scenario

event request: “Congrats on 600!!! maybe i request 8. intoxicated with akaashi pls??🥺🥺🥺💕”

a/n: i’ve always been one to admire strangers from afar. sooo, i thought Akaashi might enjoy seeing your sweet face in a uni/campus setting. fluffy sweetness right here <333

warnings: maybe slightly suggestive (but hardly??)

wc: 1720

---

It all started with a glimpse.

His speculative, grey-blue eyes catching yours from across a full lecture hall. They flickered over, soaking you in at every class period. At first, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been looking right past you, but at the tilt of his head, you were sure that his eyes were set on you. A connection formed instantly, sending shivers straight down your spine, giving pause to every mental function.

It got to the point that you had to remind yourself to breathe whenever the pretty boy sent you a modest smile, leaving you a flushed mess.

Because never have you seen someone that captivating.

How at the flick of his ember hair, brushing a too-long piece away from his eyes, you heart would be pounding and skipping. The way he spun his pencil around on his fingers or rested a studious hand on his chin, squishing his face slightly. How his eyes squinted thoughtfully at the prompt of a tricky question, focusing on a specific object to concentrate, only glancing back up when he came to a satisfying conclusion.

You were spell-bound...  and you didn’t even know his name.

But you could dream. And dream you would.

About what his voice would sound like whispering softly to you, his lips brushing against your ear and jawline. Or in the morning with a raspier tinge, waking you up with the gentlest of tones, a hint of coffee lacing with yesterday’s cologne.

How his arms would feel wrapped around your core on a lazy Saturday, soaking in his warmth and sinking back into his secure hold, adjusting accommodatingly for your comfort. To have his eyes drink in every inch of your face, analyzing you instead of his notes for a change.

But for now, you reluctantly settle for distant glances and curious expressions. Separated by a lecture hall and busy class schedules.

That is until you show up to class, finding someone in the usually empty seat next to yours. 

Their back is toward you for a moment, so you take it as a chance to scan their appearance. You quickly note the clean outfit, brown boots and simple colors complete with a long, grey cardigan. If you were forced to sit next to some mysterious person, you’re glad they at least knew how to dress well.

But your entire body runs cold as a familiar face shifts toward the tapping of your light footsteps.

Soft, navy glasses with thin frames. The gentle features made up of soft cheekbones and a sharp, slim jawline. Those bewitching eyes that could outshine the profound shimmering of a deep-blue sea.

It’s him. The one you’ve been fascinated by for weeks. And he’s sitting right there.

“Hi.” The tone is soft and pleasant… inviting even. And his eyes, so warm.

His voice is silk, skimming the surface of your skin giving you chills. Your current infatuation is speaking to you. And it’s definitely no longer a dream.

You should probably start responding now,

“Oh, uh, hello!” You stammer out, a flush dancing across your cheeks.

He just smiles at your dazed response, aware of your confusion but unfazed by your reaction.

Dammit, act like a normal human, y/n, you scold yourself for just standing there, your hands shoved in your pockets. 

“I’m y/n. it’s nice to meet you!” You return the smile, but it hardly begins to reveal the exhilaration of being so close to him.

“I’m Akaashi. Do you care if I sit with you?”

Oh, you could sit on me, you think to yourself but shake the thought from your head swiftly.

And Akaashi… a pretty name for such a pretty face. He’s polite too. Maybe a little formal, but friendly.

“Oh, sure! It’s not like I’m saving it for anyone or anything like that…” You let out a breathy laugh as you set your bag down next to his backpack.

The bustling of the room before class starts covers for the awkward silence between you two. You do your best to calm your nerves. This was the last thing you’d expected from your day and you sure as hell never planned to make a move on him. Your interest was supposed to fade as the semester closed out. It was going to be a lovely thought. Just a nostalgic, intangible tale of stolen glances or a story to tell about a beautiful stranger and what could’ve been.

But Akaashi had other plans.

He wanted to feel you out. To understand why your eyes rested on his figure whenever you thought he couldn’t see you. Because, to Akaashi, you’re the enigma. 

A puzzle in need of solving, determining, and piecing together until a full picture is resolved. And he hasn’t been this intrigued by an individual since high school… so who’s to say he shouldn’t pursue his curiosity?

He took a leap of faith, deciding that you were also potentially interested, which is how he’s found himself seated next to you. And you’re way more attractive up close than he could’ve imagined. 

As the professor begins to ramble through some odd topic, Akaashi’s side glances begin.

The way your lips part as you try to listen to the lecture, beautiful eyes scanning your notes, and then flickering back to the PowerPoint on the projector screen has him shifting around in his seat, wishing he could hear the song of your voice through them.  He can tell that there’s so much more under your surface. Behind your shy smiles and the way your tuck strands of hair behind your ear. That there was already a lifetime of morals, beliefs, habits, experiences, and stories that you could share with him. There is only so much he could examine in the span of an hour… and it’s not often that he’s drawn away from his studies. But in all honesty, he’d much rather listen to you, falling in love with your mind instead of just your body and entrancing facial features. 

Akaashi craves to discover it all.

You bite your lip, attempting to concentrate on anything but the boy next to you… but it’s hard because he’s close enough that you can smell his complex cologne mixed with the chai latte sitting on his desk. You even find yourself leaning toward him, your body urging you to break the distance between you two. Throughout the class you have to control yourself, sitting up straight, keeping comments and conversation to a minimum, because forget about learning anything… you’re barely able to think without being submerged in his presence. 

When his arm intentionally brushes against yours as he reaches for another sip of his tea, you almost lose it. Infatuation or not, he was doing something to you.

You barely register that Akaashi has leaned in to whisper something to you, but when it does, goosebumps race down your arms.

“Y/n…”

Your name feels so good rolling off his tongue.

Heat spreads across your face, “Y- yes?”

Very smooth, y/n. Nice stutter, you cringe at yourself.

“After class, would you want to go over notes?” His suggestion, though innocent in nature, sounds far more alluring… and you can’t tell if it’s just your brain making up the sultry tone or if Akaashi just sounds this good.

“Ah, actually I would love to… where to?” You recover, leaning back as a small smile plasters itself onto your lips, trying not to make your excitement too obvious.

“My dorm?” A fleeting smirk crosses his face, but ghosts away to conceal his feelings.

Oh.

---

“Keiji, you’re tickling me.” You squirm, trying to tug your self out of his grasp.

“No, I’m not, you just happen to be ticklish.” He counters sleepily. His fingers continue to dance down your back, running in soothing circles and tracing curves.

You huff, but you stop struggling to get out of his arms.

As terrible as the dilapidated campus dorms were, you’ve never felt safer than when you were buried in a blanket, tucked under your boyfriend’s arm, staring up at the old, cracked ceiling. The tired building was so close to falling apart that it was almost laughable.

But you don’t seem bothered.

It’s hard to worry about it when you’re constantly drowning in the pools of his eyes. Under the influence of his grazing touches and strings of thought flowing from his pretty mouth. An enrapturing blend of sophistication and authentic thought.

You shift in his hold, your back no longer pressing to his chest, choosing to lay face-to-face instead. For a moment, you are met with sloping features and the most peaceful of expressions. A sweeping wave of adoration flows through your body. It’s a warm tightening in your chest followed by a heavy, contented exhalation. He’s an angel.

But soon, Akaashi’s eyes softly blink open, making your heart do little flips. You would never be able to get rid of the butterflies that fluttered their way into your heart. He moves straight to reading your mind, analyzing every quirk of your eyebrow, what kind of smile you were wearing, how long you held his gaze for.

It’s funny how he’d assumed that you would only distract him from that one class. Instead, you have him in a dizzying spiral, taking up all of his attention. Filling his whole heart. His eyes naturally sought you out in noisy rooms full of people. His soul ached and burned for you and your pillowy-soft voice whenever you weren’t around.

It’s undeniable. 

You’re intoxicating.

Placing butterfly kisses on his cheeks, you earn a soft, closed-mouth smile. It’s easy to drown in his mesmerizing stare, taking it in, processing what he’s feeling and thinking, you lose track of time and forget about the dingy dorm room. 

Because it didn’t matter where you were. A classroom? A house party? A burning building? His artistry and perfection would outshine the most interesting of discussions and the brightest of flames. He’d bled through the pages of your life, leaving beautiful strokes of ink containing hues brighter than you could’ve ever imagined. Dipping into your past and pressing his way into your future. 

And it’s clear.

Akaashi is intoxicating.

The feeling is perfectly mutual… and to think it all started with a simple infatuation with the prettiest boy in your lecture hall.

With a beautiful stranger.

A mere glance.

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @starboybokuto

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 

[interesting-blog-name]

Björk DISCOG REVIEW Part 1

One of the most recognized avant-garde singers in the world, Björk Guðmundsdóttir is an Icelandic artist who has been releasing critically acclaimed albums since the early 90s, and an icon in the experimental music scene. I thought it’d be an exciting experience to dive into her discography to find out if her music resonates with me, and to understand what this revered singer is all about. I decided to start with her major studio albums first, then moving on to her early work with Icelandic band The Sugarcubes and whatever else she has out there.

 Debut

Björk’s properly titled debut is a wild amalgamation of sweet love songs, upbeat house music inspired by the UK’s early 90s scene, a hint of jazz, and of course, Björk’s enchanting voice. I won’t pretend to be a music university graduate or whatever, as I know close to nothing about what 90s music sounded like, what could have potentially influenced Björk on this album, nor will I try to give some sort of lecture about what is going on here; I’ll just cite what I enjoy and what I don’t, and why.

Debut feels authentic, it’s a finely crafted album, from its musical styles to its production to its songwriting. What spiked my interest immediately in it were the drums, and how fresh and varied they were; this is a very percussion-heavy album, the UK beats Björk implements are all about the infectious rhythms that enter your body and seem to control it, but even on tracks not so influenced by the nightclub life, the percussion is very good, in songs such as the opening Human Behaviour, with its fat bass drums, or the iconic, soothing Venus As a Boy, featuring tambourines, strong kicks, some rattle instrument, a prominent sampled echoing sound and a hint of bongos; these are all alongside various other rich instruments, violin passages that flow with the track perfectly, what sounds like xylophones peppering the track, all of this making this the best song in the album, in my opinion.

And when these instruments are not there, of course Björk herself makes up for it. Like Someone In Love is a beautiful ode to, well, love, comprised only of a harp, the singer’s eye-watering performance, and some ambient noise; it reminds me a bit too much of her cover of I Remember You, mostly because they’re both based on harps, but it is still very beautiful on its own. The Anchor Song is the emptiest on the record, closing the album up with some tension and overall introspection. It features only one verse from Björk sung two times, and like three saxophones? Definitely two at least, I’m not sure how they work, but it makes for a great, simplistic finisher (even if latter editions include Play Dead, a beautiful song, but not exactly fitting after the song before it).

Throughout the first handful of tracks, the pattern of “inward emotionally potent song sequenced by urban-life dance anthem, and back again” became apparent to me, but then broke after One Day did not transition into a dance track. Basically, my instant perception was that the record was this rollercoaster showcase of the hopeless romantic experience in a metropolitan, nocturnal city, and it may be, but if it is, it’s not as in-your-face as I initially thought. What catapulted these thoughts was the live version of There’s More To Life Than This, probably the most commercially-adept instrumental tune in the record, performed by Björk in a version purposefully awkward and weirdly personal, where she sings her second verse directly into a mic while the beat faintly plays in the background, fading further and further until the song flawlessly transitions to Like Someone In Love. It really makes you feel like your are at the Milk Bar, the night is packed, and Björk just pulls you into the bathroom and starts singing the rest of the song (for some reason); it reminded me of all those YouTube videos where the uploader takes a popular song, adds some background chatter, and soaks it all in reverb to give you the experience of listening to the song from the bathroom of a party. It is a distinct, creative way of spinning the original dance track around into something more, something that conveys this feeling of slight loneliness, even when surrounded by people, the central topic of the second song, Crying. The lyrics describe the big city, the huge crowds, but conversely the feeling of solitude and missing your loved one, or maybe even a place, it’s not explicitly told who or what Björk misses.

Romance is ever-present in Debut, through many incarnations. Big Time Sensuality, one of the most upbeat tracks here, is about a fresh romantic relationship, and the growing sensation of “something important (...) about to happen”, assumingly between Björk and whoever else. The house beat paints the scenario for this relationship as a club, by default. It brings you into this exciting nightlife, only for you to be pulled away immediately after by One Day, a track so cheerful it’s irresistible, and holding tight to the theme of romanticizing a loved one, then reaching Aeroplane in yet another beautiful transition. I have to admit this is the first song I don’t love in the album, I think it is good, and in the context of the album, definitely brings something new. What sets it apart is, this time around, the bongos are being used to their full extent, paired with birds chirping and a comfortable bass, incremented by occasional saxophone passages, this track ends up very tropical. After this, Come To Me is another passionate song, this time, Björk sings of comforting her partner and nurturing them, which naturally creates a super chill aura to the song. Accompanied by the violins and the lowkey guitars, it makes for a solid track, which in the context of the album I think eases the mood a bit too much, but is appreciated as a solid production, and closes out by bringing out the bongos once again, in a very nice outro (I should also note this is the first appearance of a real drum set on the album [I think]) (I should also also note the bassline sounds a little like early studio versions of True Love Waits by Radiohead, just some trivia).

Violently Happy right afterwards is the least interesting of the house tracks, with a mostly simple instrumental, and vocals Björk seeming to be compressed, or dowsed in some other effect. It’s not a standout in the tracklist to me, but the beauty of Debut is that the worst song is still solid as fuck. I think it’s a very consistent album, that delivers a unique and one-of-a-kind experience.

I didn’t expect this type of sound from Debut, but I was pleasantly surprised. It took me a while to like, but it definitely grew on me on with this 4 a.m. listening session I just had. I look forward to everything else I will listen to by Björk.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Venus As A Boy, Like Someone In Love, One Day, Big Time Sensuality, Human Behaviour

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Violently Happy

 8.7/10

“Lately I find myself gazing at stars, hearing guitars like someone in love.”

 Post

Going into Post, I was aware this would be quite different from Debut. I had listened to Army of Me and It’s Oh So Quiet before, seeing as they’re two of Björk’s biggest songs, and they obviously sound nothing like the acid house beats and soft, calming ballads in her debut, and that’s what is good about it, the sudden shift from a relatively safe musical environment to aggressive, chunky electronic production in Army of Me and Enjoy, and the absolute turnaround that is It’s Oh So Quiet.

The bold production decisions are what make this album exciting and surprising, in tracks such as I Miss You, mixing a synth-line with super loud bongos and some addictive synthesized drums, and trumpets at the end of the song, or the famous use of the Locrian mode in Army of Me, creating this menacing, dissonant melody, which perfectly fits the song and serves as an appropriate intro to the album that succeeds it. But they don’t always have to be out there to be notable and great: what I can tell from around the internet is that you can ask every single Björk fan ever what their favorite track by her is and it feels like at least a quarter will answer Hyper-ballad, and (even though I’m not nearly done with her discography) I can I say it’s with very good reason, as it is an amazingly composed song; same with Possibly Maybe, an enheartened slow jam which progresses from a cute love song about desiring to be with the one she’s flirting with, to disappointment in how they treat her, to the breakup, where she states she started wearing lipstick again, sucking her own tongue in remembrance of her once lover.

The album is very love-centered, specifically focused on the desire to be physically with someone, with how Björk mentions her love interest’s touch in plenty of tracks, such as I Miss You, a song about missing someone she apparently has never been with, where she literally asks her significant other “when will I get my cuddle?”. uwu.

(also what is this cover art lmao)

Also including this thirst for deeper contact are the songs Enjoy (“I wish I’d only look, and didn’t have to touch”, “How can I ignore? This is sex without touching?”) and Headphones (”They start off as cells that haven’t been touched before, these cells are virgins”), but the subject matter isn’t always literal and spelled out, as the tracks Isobel and Hyper-ballad seem to play with the idea of a hermit lifestyle, whether it’s at the top of a mountain or in the heart of a forest, with different meanings between the two, however. In Hyper-ballad, she’s isolated from the world alongside her lover, while in Isobel, she’s completely alone, married to herself, as she says. I enjoy the theme, but I think the vocals and instrumentation, while interesting, aren’t as good as many other examples from the album, same with the track previous to it, You’ve Been Flirting Again, which employs very faint and uniform violins under some soothing yet stagnant lyrics by Björk; it serves mostly as an interlude, I suppose, but it could go a little further, in my opinion.

To end the album, Cover Me and Headphones subdue the atmosphere by a lot. They’re very toned down, the first features some really nice windy background noise, and what I think is an oud. It’s an amazing section of the album, and from what I can gather, seems to be about her own experimentation with her music, describing a journey into what I think is this very album, a big departure from Debut for sure. It then transitions seamlessly into Headphones, which, on par with its title, is a much better experience if you are wearing headphones. The buzzing bass, Björk’s nearly ASMR vocals turning into gibberish at the end, and bubbly percussion are all super pleasing to the ears, and it continues the theme of her own musical creating process, singing how her headphones saved her life, and how nothing will ever be the same; it’s almost prophetical, and definitely one of my favorite songs here.

Post is much more colorful, daring and wild than Debut, but I don’t know if I like it better than its predecessor. I feel like Debut is obviously much more comfortable and pleasing than Post, and that even though Post has amazing tracks like Hyper-ballad, Enjoy and Possibly Maybe, as an album, I’m not really feeling it as much as the last one. The sense of cohesion in the last one, and how it used the UK beats to the best of their potentials, mixing them with much more soothing tracks and beautiful vocal performances is what attracts me to it so much. I really appreciate the direction Post took, as I don’t suppose many people were doing anything close to this in the 90s or before, and it certainly has its highlights, but I think Debut just got a tighter hold of me, and I just enjoyed it more, if looking at it from a purely superficial standpoint. The experimentation here is great, but I enjoy how fresh Debut sounds slightly more.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Hyper-ballad, I Miss You, Army of Me, Headphones, Possibly Maybe, Enjoy

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: You’ve Been Flirting Again

 8.5/10

“This is really dangerous, cover me. But worth all the effort, cover me.”

 Homogenic

Alright shit got real.

This is way better than the last two albums, and they were amazing to begin with. But this album is insane. It’s focused, but also so loose and free. It’s an amazing experience, and I think Björk in her most comfortable style yet. She doesn’t miss the mark in one track of this album, they’re all at the very least good.

It starts off with the delirious drum patterns and violins in Hunter, and I tell you, I haven’t seen a better streak of amazing songs in an album yet: from the intro to 5 Years, all the songs between it are fucking fantastic, and that is only broken by Immature, a track which I don’t think is supposed to be much more than an interlude anyway; then it’s right back with Alarm Call.

I really don’t think I have anything to complain about in this review apart from 5 Years and Immature. On the first listen, I thought Howie B’s version of All Is Full Of Love was inferior to the original, which I had heard and loved a while ago, but I can’t even say that, because this one is perfect as an outro. With the drums gone, the track feels like a goodbye from Björk as you slowly descent from heaven after listening to this album; plus, it comes right after Pluto, by far the most aggressive song in Homogenic, with the singer yelling over her glitchiest production yet. Then it suddenly gives way to that incredible outro. Other amazing transitions include Unravel to Bachelorette, decorated by the overlapping violins, and from 5 Years to Immature. The serene, gorgeous sound of Unravel against the energetic, cinematic Bachelorette orchestra is easily one of the best moments in the album as well.

I find that whenever I find an album really good, I have problems describing why, but I promise this time I’ll try harder than when I listened to MAGDALENE. To start, Björk’s singing and the instruments backing her have never been more in harmony with each other, mainly due to Björk’s and her producers’ focus on maintaining a homogenous sound throughout the record, as its title implies, and this style is the mix of strings and other orchestral instruments (including an accordion at some points) with the odd, sometimes glitchy (All Neon Like, 5 Years, Pluto) other times fleshed out and bulky (Hunter, Immature, Alarm Call) production of Mark Bell, Guy Sigsworth, Howie B, Markus Dravs and, of course, Björk herself. Jóga and Unravel are my favorite Björk songs so far, and the fact that they come back to back, right before Bachelorette, is still crazy to me.

Alarm Call is a beautiful song about how your music impacts the world, and just an anthem of euphoria basically, which might be a little out of place surrounded by the very specific sound the album goes for, with its bop qualities and dance rhythm, but I appreciate it a lot just for how easily Björk can pour her feelings onto a track and make it work out of seemingly nowhere. This song demands happiness from the listener, and it’s extremely difficult not to give in to its groove (“I’m no fucking Buddhist, but this is enlightenment”).

In my opinion, All Neon Like is the perfect embodiment of Homogenic’s atmosphere: it’s not as brilliantly and enormously produced as the songs before it, but it is frigid and ethereal, the lyrics are sung fairy tales, continuing the genius metaphors in Bachelorette.

It’s slightly futile for me to try and dissect Björk’s lyrics one by one, but they do stand out more than in her previous records as well, even though the focus on Homogenic is mainly in its aesthetic. 5 Years is the first song that features lyrics that point themselves against someone, a former love interest of Björk, accusing them of not being able to handle her, and while Immature’s lyrics don’t go anywhere due to them consisting of a verse repeated twice, they follow the theme of abandoning a lover, and this time, the questioning is to herself, wondering how she thought her significant other was a cure to all her personal issues. Hunter, an amazing intro to an amazing album, centers its lyrics around some of the same topics as the outro in Post (Cover Me and Headphones) which describes a voyage into the unknown that was Björk’s musical endeavors at the time, her will to go the distance to create something brand new and exciting. In this intro, she compares it to hunting and bringing the food to the table. It starts: “If travel is searching and home what’s been found, I’m not stopping”. It’s fucking brilliant man holy shit.

Now that I write this, I realize, from 5 Years onward, the songs cease to be about idolizing another person, with tracks such as Immature and Alarm Bell being introspective looks at Björk and her current feelings, and Pluto being about batshit self-change. Even All Is Full Of Love, with its first lyrics being “You’ll be given love, you’ll be taken care of”, seems to be addressing more of the ambient surrounding the person than the person themselves, as if they’re a placeholder for all the angelic ambience around the listener. Maybe the song is literally about placing the listener in this scenario, who knows.

Definitely best album I’ve heard yet, and what excites me is that people praise the next album so much, I’ve never seen someone talk much about Homogenic. I literally don’t know how Björk can top this, but I’ll see.

 WORST TO BEST: 5 Years, Immature – Mark Bell’s Version, Hunter, Pluto, Alarm Call, All Neon Like, Bachelorette, All Is Full Of Love – Howie’s Version, Jóga, Unravel

 Fuck it, 10/10

“I’m a path of cinders burning under your feet. You’re the one who walks me, I’m your one-way street.”

 Vespertine

I am pleased.

This is insane, man. I think I’ll be a huge Björk fan after I’m finished with this discography. Vespertine is meticulous, it’s enchanting, it’s all-around wonderful. You can tell Björk and her team put incredible effort into this album, for it to sound as effortlessly beautiful as possible; not one idea or song here sounds forced, out of its element, or simply put bad. They unite to create one of the most astounding listening experiences I think I’ll ever get in my life.

Vespertine is proud, but introverted. As a sequel to Homogenic, it serves as its lighter half: where Björk described Homogenic as “confrontational”, “active” and “warrior”, Vespertine flips that upside down, and brings microbeats, music boxes and harps to the table. This is a very effective alternative to songs such as Jóga and Bachelorette, where the instrumentals and the singer seemed to try and outdo each other, creating these grand, empowering songs; in this album, they merge together into living, breathing and deeply personal lullabies. One of the most impressive talents of Björk is that she seems to take the identity of her album to heart, and mixes her unique songwriting and singing talents and her otherworldly personality into the project’s own personality, becoming an artform much greater than the sum of its parts.

Songs like Hidden Place, It’s Not Up To You and Pagan Poetry are Björk to the bone, with their more elaborate and ear-catching production, their humongous vocals, and would be comfortable if they were to be pulled from this album into another; however, deeper cuts such as Aurora, Cocoon, Undo and An Echo A Stain are the embodiment of this album’s aesthetic, its frigid atmosphere and tiny, fragile surroundings. They are like symmetrical, unique snowflakes when softer, or huge, arctic blue glistering caves when grander. They’re precise; stable, but at the same time would not work if they weren’t organized exactly how they are.

It’s easy to get too comfortable listening to Vespertine. The tracks are almost spiritual in a way, they convey an unparalleled bliss to the listener, and getting lost in the album is almost part of the experience. Especially in the second half of Vespertine, where things get real lowkey. Songs merge into each other, starting with the wonderful music box interlude Frosti into Aurora, which features one of Björk’s strongest vocal performances, proceeding to An Echo A Stain, a standout for its weird, suspenseful and eerie instrumental, evoking a dark vibe, it sounds like a deep underwater exploration into the darkest abysses of the ocean or some shit. The lyrics are also uniquely confrontational, they don’t portray the undying passion of songs before it, instead proclaiming “Don’t say no to me. You can’t say no to me. I won’t see you, denied.”. With all the vague and spacey lyrics, and the uneventful instrumental, it’s impressive this song progresses so well, mainly due to its weird, unsettling tone that sets itself apart from the rest of the songs. In a way, these odd and abstract lyrics mixed with the ethereal and bittersweet instrumentation remind me of some Radiohead songs, such as The National Anthem, How To Disappear Completely and Ful Stop, and I’m realizing this is a style of music I’m prone to liking.

Sun In My Mouth is not much of a standout topically or sonically to me, as it doesn’t do much to expand upon the sexuality of the album, with lyrics once again referring to inserting fingers into wherever, and closing with “Will I complete the mystery of my flesh?”, the themes seem to have nowhere to go. Heirloom depicts a reoccurring dream about Björk losing her voice, and having her mother and son pour a glowing oil into her mouth, which is a cute and artsy way of saying they’re her fuel for continuing with her craft, I guess. The lyrics don’t go anywhere with themselves after this though, but the instrumental is very creative and memorable, it creates a neat little bubble of involving, resonating synths.

Employing some heavy strings for Harm Of Will, Björk doubles down on the romance of the album, in a rather stripped-down song, with a few vocal highlights from her. It finds its place in the tracklist, I guess, although the oral sex line comes off a bit too strong for the smooth sentiment of the song.

To close Vespertine off, Unison, the longest song in the album, lays back on an ambient sample by Oval, and features one of Björk’s most unique vocal harmonies on its chorus; overall a nice, upbeat outro for a wonderful album.

I will say I felt more excited listening to Homogenic, as I think Vespertine’s romantic, sexual aura doesn’t expand into much after some of the many heavily sensual verses, while Homogenic wasn’t as tight and claustrophobic for me. Vespertine, however, was freer and left a bigger impact on me, It’s Not Up To You succeeded in making me cry. At the same time, none of the songs here felt like they didn’t belong, like they took away from the experience; every sound and line collaborates to make something bigger, something I don’t think I’ll get from many other albums in my lifetime.

 BEST TO WORST: It’s Not Up To You, Pagan Poetry, Undo, Hidden Place, An Echo A Stain, Unison, Aurora, Heirloom, Cocoon, Harm Of Will, Frosti, Sun In My Mouth

 It is a 10

“I can decide what I give, but it’s not up to me what I get given. Unthinkable surprises about to happen, but what they are, it’s not up to you.”

 Medúlla

Björk’s 2004 Medúlla is, surprise surprise, an acapella album. And to further surprise, I liked it.

After Homogenic and Vespertine, I guess there was nowhere to go but towards the more experimental. You can’t really outdo those two albums in their own game, so you gotta branch out, try different things; and trying different things is exactly what Björk excels at, apparently. With Medúlla, all that wild, bombastic or serene instrumentation her previous albums were peppered with is gone, giving way to backing vocals ranging from super deep male bass to angelic choirs, beatboxing, and occasionally an isolated instrument. The album is rooted on the most primary form of music: barely any instruments, almost no effects or audio manipulations, just many voices uniting to become one; lyrics about childbirth, the human body, oceans and, of course, love.

Listening to Medúlla is interesting because it is very familiar, while also being a completely different experience from Björk’s previous albums. Songs like Who Is It and Mouth’s Cradle are unmistakably her, while at the same time being coated with an extra layer of experimentation, and with this new direction, Björk and her team are able to channel an energy that stands shoulder-to-shoulder with some of her best production. Where Is The Line? and Oceania are intricate and complex, showing just how much can be done with only the human voice. The low male vocals and beatboxing structure the songs, the choirs in the background give them depth, all the sounds link with themselves to amount to some incredible songs.

On the flipside, however, few songs fail to achieve that, in my opinion. Desired Constellation is notably bare and empty, with few aspects to its composition. The mystical lyrics that characterize Medúlla are still here, describing Björk playing routinely with stars to form whatever she desires, but apart from that, there isn’t much to experience. Mouth’s Cradle and its successor Miðvikudags are also not of much significance to the rest of the album, as they drift from its acapella compositions by employing some pleasant, but unnecessary synths as the basis of the songs. The simpler, shorter interludes that are peppered through the album are pretty much the standard sound for this record, fleshing it out with small little vocal passages and, of course, gibberish. Show Me Forgiveness, from my interpretation, is Björk apologizing to either herself or her daughter (as implied by the last line, “The girl might live”), for letting her interior voice be drowned out by the exterior; Öll Birtan is a simple buildup to the aforementioned Who Is It, but the best of the bunch are Sonnets/Unrealities XI, the poem it may not always be so; and i say by e. e. cummings over some of the best backing vocals in the album, Vökuró, where Björk sings a traditional Icelandic song in a very intimate and gorgeous moment in the album, and Ancestors, which features some passionate, odd and intriguing growls all throughout it.

It’s remarkable what Björk came up with in this album, the mystical aura surrounding it and forming its lyrics, in particular the verses in Oceania where she takes the role of the Ocean, exploring its perspective of Earth, time and the continents, Pleasure Is All Mine, which describes motherhood and childbirth for a sublime intro, and Submarine, featuring Robert Wyatt, evoking a sense of rebelliousness and urgency. Great album.

 FAVORITE TRACKS: Oceania, Sonnets/Unrealities XI, Where Is The Line? Pleasure Is All Mine, Vökuró

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Mouth’s Cradle

 8.8/10

“When in doubt: give”

Outro

I postponed ths review for like 2 months or something, I don’t even know. Basically, from Debut to Vespertine was probably a one-month span of time, while it took me about double that time to actually write about Medúlla, because of what I think was a depressive episode. In the meantime, I started just reviewing shit on RateYourMusic (my username is fantaguarana, if anyone cares). I thought of stopping, I had this feeling that the whole “writing about everything I listen” thing was really forced and starting to become a chore, but now that I actually got to it, I think I notice how much it helps me organize my thoughts on music, compared to just listening to an album and never really reflecting on what it really means.

I’ll probably stop writing about everything I listen to, and leave this blog for the albums that really change me as a person. Have a good day yall.

[transgamerthoughts]

Guerrilla Radio

I look at Rodney Mullen and I see a kindred spirit. To hear Mullen speak is to go for a ride, the cadence of his voice rising and falling in unpredictable ways. Sometimes, he speaks at a hushed whisper. A low and pained utterance indicating a reverence and yearning that polite society eschews—if there’s one thing folks feel weird about it’s excess displays of passion. When he’s not quiet, Mullen is truly loud. His laugh is a barking chortle. Painful whisperings, awkward celebration. Mullen is a man of infectious extremes.

I play as Mullen whenever I boot up Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1+2, the recently released remaster of earlier games. There’s an option to create a customized, idealized version of myself and I could always play as the Birdman. I think they expect you to play as Tony for a long time; his toolkit is strong and stats are spread nicely. Those things matter less and less as you play. It’s easy to upgrade any character’s stats and customize their special tricks but Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1+2 hardly explains itself outside of an optional tutorial. It is a game superbly confident in the fact that the player will play every portion of it including the menus. That’s a wise impulse; Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1+2 is terrifyingly intuitive and always has been. How else could many of us fully complete it in our childhoods? Still, even though I could play as myself, I play as Mullen because I’ve never felt so magnetically pulled to an individual in my life. To hear Rodney Mullen talk about skateboarding is to hear myself attempt to talk about games criticism. There is a core of a person that we might call “Rodney Mullen” and a layer of societal artifice built around it. There is a soul and a sort of clay surrounding it. It’s easy to understand that his soul is fragile. It requires a clear and powerful nourishment. For Mullen, that’s skating. Every quiver in his voice when he talks about a trick, every pause before he mentions his domineering father expresses the singular freedom he finds on a skateboard. I immediately recognize it as the freedom I feel on a page. I see footage of an impossible flip and synthetically equate it to a good metaphor. I see freestyle groundtricks flow into each other like tributaries into a large river, and I imagine a comma-laden ramble of a sentence. I feel something ineffable. When I watch footage of Mullen or other contemporaries like Daewon Song, something falls over me like a spectral blanket. What they find through ollies, grinds, and reverts, I chase every time I write.

Before I played Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1+2, I was already watching documentaries on my favorite skaters and looking at old tapes. I’m back with my family for a time in quarantine, and my father found my old skateboard. It’s an old Geoff Rowley Flip board. I was always a clumsy person; skating was liberating but I could never have found the expression that someone like Mullen or Rowley have. But I did find it in games, and in writing. That sounds indulgent and quixotic but it’s true. I can’t explain how completely necessary writing is to me. Perhaps it would be easier to say that I’ve reached a point professionally where I never really need to write criticism again if I don’t want to. I survived the daily news grind, produced some things I liked, put up with some bullshit that I didn’t, and emerged on the other side in a new field. War’s over. Except it’s never over. I need to write.

Playing Tony Hawk, I see the process. Every level is a crash course in finding intense purpose in our surroundings. While the action of Tony Hawk occurs at a scale detached from reality, one where tricks flow into intense sequences and it’s commonplace to leap large rooftop gaps, the process of achieving a high score points towards a truth that any skateboarder can attest to: the world is different when you perceive it from atop a skateboard. Your streets become so much more than pavement. You observe what is before you with a keen eye and find a meaning and intentionality that isn’t immediately obvious.

Until Mullen debuted the flatground ollie in 1982—itself inspired by Alan Gefland’s technique for freehand aerial vert tricks—the street was less explored than parks and vertical ramps. Flat ground competitions were “freestyle” competitions full of pogo tricks and manuals. The ability to leap into the air meant there were new tricks that could be developed. Mullen pioneered further tricks like the kickflip and the impossible entirely because of the new freedom the ollie offered. But the ollie wasn’t just a foundation for new tricks; it opened up the streets to exploration. Skating could move out of the parks. This proved an essential step to keeping the sport alive.

This widening freedom constitutes the core of Tony Hawk’s gameplay. Although there are plenty of vert tricks and Hawk himself is classified in game as a vert skater, the majority of each level’s gameplay is devoted to exploration. Finding hidden video tapes, jumping over parked cars, wall-riding to destroy schoolyard bells. These objectives are about navigating real spaces albeit ones that are somewhat exaggerated. It is contingent on the player to observe the world through the eyes of a skater. Tony Hawk doesn’t capture the realistic mechanics of skating but it does capture the creative sentiment. In order to complete objectives and also achieve high scores, they need to think like a skater.

To hear Mullen talk about developing tricks and the ways in which skating expanded in the 80s, you’d think little revolutionary was happening. For Mullen, tricks were about expression. These various flips and techniques weren’t about pushing the boundaries of skating. They were, first and foremost, the ways in which a shy kid from a strict Gainesville home expressed himself to the world. They were about asserting his value as an individual and expressing the ineffable parts of himself that he could not express any other way. That individual desire fed into a larger ecosystem where his tricks could be adapted and integrated into an ever-evolving language. The personal became conversational. The conversational became foundational. 

I think about these processes and apply them to my own field, although I wonder if I can even call criticism my home anymore. I didn’t write about games because I thought there could be a career in it. I didn’t write about games because I saw starting my blog as a pathway to outlets or studios. I wrote and still write because it is the only way I have as a still-lonely kid from New Hampshire to express something fundamental about myself. I write because it is the only way I’ve ever felt like I’ve been heard. Let me be clear: this is the comparison I’ll make between myself and Mullen. I’m not implying that I’ve done anything so important as he has. When I see Mullen, I see someone who can’t stop. Because stopping means moving back into a silent space. 

That space is painful. I do not make friends easily and struggle to keep them. I am awkward and have, in my life, only found a handful of people who I believe have ever seen the person I truly am. Writing, then, is a way to shed layers and layers of confusion and performance in favor of something authentic.

When I navigate a Tony Hawk level or watch a tape of my favorite skaters, I see the writing process spread before me. To engage in criticism is to find yourself in a new space every time you play a game. There are a variety of potential objectives and angles that you can seek out and achieve. In order to do those in a sensible fashion, you need to explore and familiarize yourself with the space and then perceive the spaces where you can move, combo-like, from one point to another. In-between, you add flourishes and tricks that express something not only about the space you are in but the person you are. Done well, you show that the metaphorical school-yard is far more than a school-yard. It is a playground, it is a battlefield, it is an unexplored land fit for mapping. A writer, like a skater, perceives certain spaces differently. A Metal Gear military installation becomes a metaphor for self-delusion. The world of Dark Souls, whether in the meanderings of the first entry or the broken spaces of the second, expresses something fundamental about the nature of memory. The violence of The Last of Us Part II (and who chiefly suffers in that world) speaks to the biases of the writers.

There’s a catch though. A difference between what Mullen is talking about and the current reality of games criticism. Where Mullen speaks of his individual expression flowing into a communal effort where skaters are engaged in a wider conversation, games criticism has rarely felt so cohesive. It is a balkanized space where writers are often separated from each other. Mainstream writers hardly read the important fringe spaces, academics ignore anyone without their pedigree. There is a lack of institutional or history knowledge because there’s no real tradition of mentorship or places where that history is documented satisfactorily. In journalistic spaces, writers burn out in the face of institutional failures that have led to shoddy reportage and a lack of protection against a reactionary games culture. There is also no pathway for fresh faces to slot into the leadership spaces that could actually address structural issues. Critically, while there’s hundreds of YouTubers and other content creators bringing criticism to the masses, there’s few times where critical terms or concepts carry over into the broader culture. We do not have the same degree of literacy amongst players as, say, films do among film-goers. This is not to say these things are completely absent. I’ve seen moments where the isolated spaces of games writing interact. When academic writers like Frank Lantz and Ian Bogost wrote about narrative in 2015, a cadre of alt-space writers directly engaged with their work in a debate that helped to solidify understandings of ludology and narratology even further that what had been expressed by writers like Gonzolo Frasca. Writers like Stephen Beirne and Durante Pierpaoli coined the terms ludo-fundamentalism and ludo-centrism to better codify schools of thought that dismissed holistic criticism in favor of games systems analysis. Yet, this is not something widely remembered either by academics or players. And while it’s tempting to self-critique and say that I’m overplaying the importance of that moment because of my proximity to it, I think it’s illustrative of the critical sphere’s major failures. 

Conversations come and go in flashes, very little is integrated into the whole, and we largely forget everything that’s come before in favor of repetitious debates and torturous re-litigations. Beyond this, there’s very little discussion between writers. There’s less letter series and response pieces and very little sense that any real conversations are taking place. Writing might be the realm of individual expression that that expression hardly feeds into a larger pool where concepts can be iterated on. This is, more than anything else, the biggest failure of games writing.  I have found deep personal expression in my writing and yes, there is a community. But what about our processes are communal? Perhaps nothing at all.

In addition to Tony Hawk, my current gameplay indulgence is Pathologic. The two could not be more different. One is accommodating and celebratory. It gives the player ample ability to navigate a level and express themselves. The other is oppressive and continually stymies all attempts at progress. Yet, as I play Pathologic I pause. My character, the surgeon Artemy Burakh is approached by the Kin, the tribesmen and women who occupy the steppe outside his home-town. Artemy is a “menkhu,” a group of surgeons and steppe-folk who perform vivisections. They are architects of the flesh. It is said that they are “Those Who Know The Lines.” 

I load up Tony Hawk and play a competition map at a skate-park in Chicago. In order to succeed and get the gold medal, I also search for the lines. I’ve always been searching. With every game, with every word I search for the lines. Mullen needs to skate.  Artemy needs to heal the sick. I need to write. 

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

“Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

[akoumi]

I can’t write dialogue for the death of me. Tips, oh wise one?

Dialogue 

So often writers, when looking back at their dialogue, realize that it feels stilted and unnatural. See, dialogue is technically the easiest part of writing. Think about it - you don’t see beautiful descriptions of places or watch epic fight scenes every day, but you do hear people talk. Authentic dialogue is everywhere around you, you just need to listen. 

1. Listen. I literally cannot stress this enough. Listen to conversations around you, learn how different people talk. Listen to accents, listen to verbal tics, listen to lApply this to your own writing. 

2. Dialogue isn’t always prose. People don’t talk in flowery prose every time. Nope. There’s an element of awkwardness to it. This depends on what type of character you have, but make sure it sounds natural. Let’s look at an example. Let’s say that James, captain of the football team and all-around good guy, has gone to his recent ex’s house to try and get her back. Which one sounds more realistic?

“Maya, I refuse to let you go! I realize that your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, and it’s quite right. But please, you must listen, I love you! I also realize that it’s completely your choice. Make it, and I’ll leave, never to bother you again. But let me say only one thing - for you, I lay down my love, my heart, my life.” 

“Maya, babe - I get it. Your mom thinks I’m not good enough for you. And she’s right. I get it. You’re amazing, and I’m...not. But I love you. I love you, Maya. Please, at least think about it. I’ll give you as much time as you need, but...text me. Please.” 

That first example is definitely more romantic, more dramatic. But would a seventeen year old boy really say something like that? Probably not, unless he reads Shakespeare 24/7. 

3. Know what kind of characters you have. A faerie king and the skater boy down the street don’t talk the same way. An interstellar bandit and a peasant from 1350 Africa are not going to talk the same way. Dialogue is such a good tool for getting across personality and character! Check out these few examples and see if you can tell what kind of character is saying them:

“Hey, dude, do you wanna come to Pascal’s house Friday after school? We have pizza! Also Ashley and her friends are gonna be there, so you’re gonna wanna come as soon as possible, heh.”

“You took everything from me. My lover, my country, my home. But now I’m here. And I’m going to return the favour.” 

“Don’t worry about it! Seriously, I don’t mind it! Take the car - no, I know I said I needed it today, but it’s fine - really! I’ll take the bus.” 

“Do you feel it? That fire in your bones? I told you one day you would surpass me, but that moment has arrived quicker than either of us had expected. Rise, hero, and take your place among the stars.” 

All of these examples have character. Keep in mind, though, not everything has character. You don’t need your characters to always say “yes” and “no” in a very distinct way all the time. Now, here are a few tips to make your writing flow smoother! 

Don’t overuse tags. 

“What did you say?” Alex breathed. “I...I love you.” Tom said. Tom’s face was bright red, his eyes on his sneakers. “But...I thought...” Alex said.“I know. I know. I lied,” Tom said.“Your -” Alex began.“I d-don’t know about any of that. I just know...all I know is that I love you.” Tom said.   

That’s tiring to read. It also detracts from the flow of the dialogue. But here is a better example: 

“What did you say?” Alex breathed. “I...I love you.” Tom’s face was bright red, his eyes on his sneakers.“But...I thought...”“I know. I know. I lied.” “Your -” “I don’t - I don’t know about any of that. I just know...all I know is that I love you.”

Isn’t that better? Your audience isn’t stupid, they don’t need you holding your hand with them throughout the entire book. Even without the tags, you can still tell who’s speaking.   

Do use said. 

Literally ninety percent of writing tips on Tumblr are “don’t use said!!1!1″ It’s true, up to a certain extent. But you never use said, and then you end up with quotes like: 

“Are you sure?” she screamed.

“Yes,” he roared.

“Why not?” she wailed. 

“No idea,” he blubbered.

Seriously. Don’t be scared of using said. Not everything needs to be said super dramatically. Sometimes you don’t scream or wail or shout something. You just say it.

Be careful when using names. 

Using names in dialogue isn’t a bad thing, but just be careful. It may seem natural, but really, we don’t use names often in real life. Even when talking to friends. 

Read your writing aloud! 

This is a huge tip! What’s the best way to make sure your dialogue sounds natural? Read it out! You may not be able to kill someone to make sure your murder scene is factual, or take a trip to Fiji to see how it feels to fall into its rivers, but you can always speak dialogue. 

i really hope all of this makes sense, i may be good at dialogue but i am not good at being articulate lol 

[davidthetraveler]

A warm thick liquid dripped down his arm. A hot shame flashed on his face; he had embarrassed himself. (2 sentence thing) ( I really like sending you these :) )

Our Growing Boy

Characters:  Virgil, Logan, Roman, Thomas, Patton

Pairings:  Parental Analogical, Romantic Logicality

Trigger Warnings:  Blood Mention, Remus Sanders Mention, Deceit Sanders Mention, Zombie Mention

Squick Warnings:  Giant/Tiny Content

Word Count:  1988

Read it on AO3

(I’m also using one of the prompts from @hiddendreamer67‘s list of October Giant/Tiny Prompts, specifically Day 24:  Blood)

***********************

If you’d like, you can send me two sentences, and I’ll continue them like they’re part of a fic.

***********************

Crunch.  Chomp.  Smack.

With each noisy bite, more red streamed down his face, coating his jaw and dripping down onto his dirty mangled shirt.  He chewed up the massive bite in his mouth, allowing the liquid to flow freely over his form before finally swallowing.  He leaned back over his prize and was about to take another messy bite, when a slight creak behind him made him freeze.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Virgil slowly turned around, the warm thick liquid now dripping down his arms.  A hot shame flashed through his face, embarrassed for himself at being caught.

There in the doorway to the back porch was Logan, his brow creased in stern disapproval.

Virgil nervously gulped, swallowing down the juice still in his mouth before trying to find his voice.

“I-I-..I was, was just, just trying to…to, uh…I was just, just…isn’t this a little early for you to get home?”

Logan allowed a small smirk to show on his face.  “Yes, but school let out early today since it’s a holiday weekend.  Now, would you care to explain why you’re covered in giant cherry juice?”

Virgil’s embarrassed blush deepened, almost starting to blend in with the red juice staining his face and clothes.  “I was…I…”

After a few false starts, he finally sighed in defeat as his slouch deepened.  It was ironic, really, how small his Papa could make him feel, even if he was almost twice as tall as him at full height.

“I wanted to make the blood for my costume look more authentic, and when I remembered what happened the last time Dad cut open a raw cherry, I…I figured he wouldn’t mind if I…I borrowed just one of them.  I mean, you remember how long those stains lasted, even after Dad tried wiping himself down.  I figured it would really sell the look.  Plus, as long as he didn’t know, I figured he…he wouldn’t miss just one.”

Logan hummed in response, looking his son over.  Finally, he reached behind himself and pulled out a towel, which he handed up to Virgil.

“Regardless of the fact that you do look rather terrifying with all that red dripping off your mouth, especially in conjunction with the use of these old tattered clothes you’re wearing, your Father and I have both expressed how important it is to follow our rules, especially in regards to the garden.  Might I remind you what happened the last time you took something from there without permission?”

Virgil paused briefly before resuming wiping himself off, the flash of remembrance bringing up all the old memories.  He could remember very well the taste of that massive orange the size of a basketball.  How delicious it had been, how quickly it seemed to fill him up with its juices, and how that filling-up feeling had kept getting stronger and stronger as he outgrew his clothes and doubled in height.

And after that, all the memories of having to go to school as a freak of nature, permanently transformed because he broke his dad’s rules and had ended up getting dosed with his parents’ secret experimental growth formula designed to help grow larger, stronger sources of food for distribution in impoverished countries.  The stares, the fearful murmurs, the endless teasing from the bullies who, even if he was big enough and strong enough to fight them off, he was too afraid of his own size and power to confront them.

Luckily for him, the year after that his dads had let him switch schools, which had allowed him to meet his new friends Roman Alteza and Thomas Sanders.  They didn’t care that Virgil was a giant.  They just liked this quiet but caring, if slightly intimidating, boy who was snarky and fun and willing to help out when something got stuck in a tree.  Not to mention he was pretty good at getting Roman’s weird twin Remus and Thomas’ bratty cousin Daemon to leave them alone with his slightly threatening quips, once his new friends managed to help bring him out of his shell.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile at the recollections, but Logan’s lecturing tone as he continued brought him back to the present.

“Considering your current status, I would assume that you would have been more anxious about taking another sample from our experiments.  We still have no way to reverse the formula’s effects, and even if we’ve managed to mostly work out the side effects from consumption of the fruit, there’s still the possibility of another reaction, especially for someone who’s already been dosed with the formula.”

Virgil hung his head, shame welling up inside him at his foolishness as he lowered himself down to sit on the porch.

“I’m sorry, Papa.  I guess I just got so excited at the idea that I forgot about the consequences.”

Logan sighed, but reached out to take the towel from Virgil’s hand.  While his long and lanky stature meant that he was quite a bit taller than the average man, he was barely taller than his son’s seated form.  In truth, his son’s condition was just as much his and Patton’s fault as it was Virgil’s.  After all, had they not been more careful about keeping their experiments protected, Virgil would not have even managed to get a hold of the altered orange.

With these thoughts in mind, he picked up rubbing off the excess juice from his son’s face where Virgil had left off, reaching out to grasp his shoulder with his other hand.

“Well, it would seem that there were no additional side effects from your consumption.  And considering your previous record of exemplary behavior, I believe we can forego the need for a punishment for tonight.”

Virgil’s head shot up in excitement.  “You mean, I can still go out with Roman and Thomas tonight?”

Logan nodded his head.  “So long as you make sure to be home by ten.”

Virgil frowned.  “But my usual curfew for weekends is–”

He came up short at Logan’s raised eyebrow, and immediately backpedaled.  “Home by ten, got it.”

No sooner had Logan finished wiping off the remaining drips, a call from behind them announced Roman and Thomas’ arrival.  Roman was decked out in a full-on classic Dracula get-up, complete with flowing cape and high collar.  Thomas’ werewolf costume, by comparison, was much less intimidating, giving off more of a human-dog hybrid feel than that of a monstrous nightmare creature seeking human flesh.

“Hi Mr. Logan,” Thomas called as they came up to the porch.

“Greetings, Thomas.  You are looking exceptional.”  Thomas blushed but gave his thanks.

“Hey, Mama Lo,” Roman greeted, a playful smirk on his face.

Logan frowned slightly.  “I believe I have mentioned my feelings toward that nickname more than a few times, Roman.”

“Ah, come on, Mr. Berry.  You know how much you love it.”  Roman looked as if he would have gladly kept on needling Logan, but the slightest increase in the crease of his brow told him it was best not to continue.

“So, are we ready?” Thomas asked after a brief awkward moment.

“Yeah, I think so,” Virgil replied, looking to his Papa for confirmation.

Logan smiled.  “Yes, I believe you are.  Remember, be home by ten.  Otherwise, do have a good time tonight.”

Virgil smiled and pulled his Papa in for a hug.  “Love you, Papa.”

“Love you too, son,” Logan answered as they pulled apart, Logan beaming at his son.  Virgil smiled back and got to his feet, turning to join his two friends as they headed back to the rear gate they had first come through.

“Just remember to try and bring some of the candy back tonight.  Just because you can eat eight times as much as the other boys doesn’t mean you should.”

“Okay, Pops,” Virgil called back as he carefully stepped over the fence into the back alley behind their home.

Just as Virgil turned to follow Roman and Thomas down the block, Logan heard the back door open and close behind him.

“Oh no, did I miss him?  I wanted to wish him well before he headed out for the night.”

Logan turned to look down at his husband.  Patton’s short, squat form was slumped slightly in disappointment.  Logan wrapped his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.  I’ve told him to be back by ten, so I’m certain you’ll still be able to see him tonight.”

Patton frowned up at Logan.  “Ten?  But didn’t we agree he could stay out later on weekends?”

“Yes, but I felt it prudent to pull back on that for tonight, considering the fact that he got hold of one of the new cherries.”

Patton paled at that.  “What?!  Is he okay?  Did it do anything to him?  Do we need to–”

It took a few moments to get Patton to calm down enough for Logan to explain what had happened.  Once he did, he allowed Patton to rant out his feelings, from relief that nothing else had happened to Virgil because of their formula, to anger at Virgil’s poor decision, to the exuberant joy at having finally managed to get the formula to stop affecting humans when consumed via the fruit.  By the time Patton had tired himself out, the sun had fully set, and the two were seated together on the back porch swing, lazily rocking back and forth and staring up at the stars.

“Logan,” Patton suddenly asked, “do you think we’re bad parents?  I mean, Virgil wouldn’t be stuck like this if we had done a better job of taking care of him.”

Logan didn’t respond.  He thought back to his own ruminations on that subject from earlier.  But then he remembered all the times they’d had this conversation in the past, both with each other and with the counselor they’d sought out after the original incident.

“We’re not perfect,” he finally replied, but quickly continued when he felt Patton deflate slightly beside him.  “But just because he’s not completely normal doesn’t mean we failed him.  We’ve taught him what’s most important in life:  to be kind and generous, loving and helpful.  To be a good person and to take care of himself and others.

“Even if he’s a bit bigger than normal, it’s not the size of his body that’s going to really matter.  It’s the size of his heart, and his is the biggest I’ve ever seen, except for maybe yours, mon couer.”

Patton giggled slightly at the old nickname and leaned up to meet Logan’s lips in a loving kiss.

The two would have probably gone on like that for some time, had a series of shrieking laughs not broken them out of their reverie.  Looking down to the end of the alley, they could just barely make out a group of kids running down the alley from a towering zombie with dyed purple hair.  Virgil was doing his best to keep up the act, but he couldn’t help but break character briefly to wave at his dads as he passed, Thomas and Roman jogging behind him to keep up.

Logan chuckled lightly at their son’s antics.  “No matter what happens, I’m sure our boy is going to be just fine.”

Patton nodded in agreement, leaning his head into his husband’s chest as they resumed staring up at the stars.  Logan was right.  They weren’t perfect parents.  But they had loved their son so much, and would always do so.  And they knew they didn’t have to be perfect to know they had raised a son who was doing his best and who loved them just as much.

And if Virgil coming home on time that night and kneeling down to give his dads a big, strong hug before bed wasn’t proof of that, then they didn’t know what was.