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sunnytumbies · 5 years

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just follow my yellow light (and ignore all those big warning signs)

Warning! This fic includes mentions of depression, anxiety, needles (in a medical setting), and dealing with grief/trauma. Please stay safe should you choose to read!

A/N: This is also a more plot-heavy fic, with most of the fiendery occurring in the very last sections, so please be aware of that! Word count: 8499 Title: “Yellow Light” by Of Monsters and Men

The thing about hospitals is that they’re all the same.

Cal understands why people hate them—really, he does—but sitting here on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath him, a blood pressure cuff tightening around his bicep, he can’t help but feel...safe. Understood.

He’s biased, he guesses. He grew up in one, doodling on prescription pads with crayons, running his favorite toy car along the floor (weaving around the nurse’s practical clogs on his hands and knees, look, Mom, look at how fast I am!), his mother Marianne bouncing him on her lap as she updated charts on her computer even though he was far too old for that, stray blonde hair that escaped from her tight bun tickling his cheek. Every once in a while, she’d turn to him with a wide, warm smile.

The whirring of blood pressure machines were his lullaby. The smell of antiseptic was the closest he got to the smell of home, and was in fact the very smell that followed him home from work with Marianne, permeated the whole house along with her tired sighs and her whispered arguments with his father Henry when she thought Cal was sleeping.

So, yeah. Cal likes hospitals. Don’t overanalyze it.

The nurse—Alicia, today—gives him a small, tired smile, the expression of someone who genuinely cares but is too busy to do much about it. “Dr. Moore says everything looks good, Cal. Just make sure to keep an eye on your lungs. Don’t bind for too long and keep doing your injections around the same time each week, okay? You know where to find us if you need something.”

“Thanks, Alicia,” Cal says, but she’s already whisking out the door. Cal wonders how many patients she has. Alicia oversees the hospital volunteer program, and even though Cal's known her for years, he swears her face is as young and beautiful as it was when he was a child. She’s funny and whip-smart and strong and she likes Cal best, he thinks, but lately she’s looked so tired.

He wonders if she’s one of the nurses who really cares about all of her patients. He wonders if that kind of thing is sustainable.

Alicia cares, he thinks.

He’s walking down the corridor, idly rubbing at the bandage across his forearm—and yeah, okay, if he has to name one part of the hospital experience that he could do without, it’s the blood draws—and he’s so fixated on reaching under the bandage to rub at the stinging skin there that he almost runs directly into Sweater Guy, who reaches out preemptively to steady Cal by the shoulders.

“Shit, sorry,” Cal mutters reflexively, then looks up to see that it’s him and, well, fuck.

Cal’s been volunteering at the hospital for six months or so, now, answering call buttons for the nurses and giving directions to confused family members and just grunt work, really, something—nay, anything—for him to put on his resume, and at every single shift he’s volunteered for, he’s seen Sweater Guy.

He��s Cal’s height but twice as skinny, collarbones jutting out underneath his sweaters (his endless sweaters, usually layered over collared shirts and rolled up to the elbows, no matter how swelteringly hot it gets outside). The sweaters bother Cal more than they should, because they all look expensive, and yeah, sue him, he’s a little bitter, because he buys one new pair of shoes a year and calls it splurging. He’s a candy striper, Cal thinks. He wears a pair of yellow-tinted glasses that Cal cannot for the life of him make sense of, constantly slipping down his nose (and yes the yellow compliments the rich brown of Sweater Guy’s skin beautifully, not that Cal has noticed, thanks). He has what Zara always insisted is sex hair, expression perpetually annoyed, like he always has something better to doing.

And he avoids the fuck out of Cal.

“It’s not on purpose,” Zara said one day a few months ago, leaning conspiratorially over their little table in the hospital cafeteria, mouth full of mediocre tuna fish sandwich, because Zara is a godless heathen who enjoys tuna fish sandwiches. “He’s just...busy, you know? He doesn’t avoid you more than he avoids anyone else.”

“Except he does,” Cal muttered, toying with the bottle cap from his soda. More than once he’d made eye contact with him in the hall, and then watched him completely switch directions, head ducked down low over his shoulders.

Not long after that, Zara--who had, until then, occupied the third room in he and Amy’s apartment--left school to attend a community college program for mortuary science, because Zara is, in addition to being a godless heathen, a chiefly ridiculous person, and now Cal doesn’t have anyone to complain to about this.

It shouldn’t bother him, except...Cal is likeable. He is. He charms nurses as though that’s what he’s getting volunteer credit for. Babies smile at him on the street. He’s likeable.

So what the fuck, you know?

“I apologize,” Sweater Guy says now, and Cal is hyper-aware of the guy’s chapped lips, of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously in his throat. He makes himself look away.

“You apologize? I’m the one who didn’t see you, dude,” Cal says, and God damn does that yellow sweater he’s wearing look nice on him. It shouldn’t. Yellow is categorically the worst color. Cal’s pissed.

Sweater Guy actually cracks a smile. “Yes, well. I’m glad we avoided a collision.”

And just like that, he’s walking off, and Cal doesn’t know what he’s supposed to make of it, if it means anything at all, but surely first contact after six months of silence means something.

“Hey,” he calls out before he can think better of it. “What’s your name?”

Sweater Guy stops and blinks, surprised, then pauses for a minute like he has to think about it. “Oh. My name is Quincy Washington.” He swallows. “What’s yours?”

“Cal.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Cal,” Quincy says softly, and Cal watches him walk away until he disappears around the corner.

Cal has a routine. He’s never been particularly organized, never been the type of person with color-coded planners or who lays out his outfits the night before, but he has a routine for check-up days: after picking up his inhaler refills and testosterone from the hospital pharmacy, he’ll treat himself to an iced chai tea latte with almond milk, hot if it’s cold outside or he’s feeling adventurous. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as he waits in line to place his order, his lips flicking up into a small little smile as he pulls out his phone, realizing he finally has an update, deciding to send it to the group chat he still has with Amy and Zara:

I figured out his name!!

Amy texts back immediately, and Cal’s little smile splits into a full-blown grin. ???????????

Sweater Guy, Cal types, shifting forward as the line moves. It’s Quincy Washington, apparently.

Cal grins when he sees a message from Zara appear: r u sure he gave u his real name? that sounds pretty made up ngl :* but hey u finally talked to him!!!! told u it wouldn’t be hard!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

Cal rolls his eyes a little, but good-naturedly. Zara was always convinced that Cal has a crush he’s not addressing, a conspiracy theory that has infected Amy as well, because no one fixates that hard if they DON’T have a crush, Cal, come on. Cal maintains that while he isn’t blind, there are about a million things more interesting about Sweater G--Quincy than how attractive he admittedly is.

Cal: In my defense, he talked to me first, and it’s only because I ran into him.

Zara: charming! did u gaze longingly into his eyes? did he gaze longingly into urs?

Cal rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Well it wasn’t his EYES I was looking at. ;) (I was looking at his stupid yellow sunglasses.)

Zara: silly! u should’ve asked him if he needs roomies. it would be an honor if my old room went to The Cause :)))

Cal’s lips droop, the smile sliding off his face as he pockets his phone. He knows Zara meant nothing by it, but he’s been compartmentalizing the roommate situation until now, and it’s not something he can particularly deal with at this moment. He doesn’t have to, as it happens--at that moment, an impatient “--sir? Sir, may I please take your order?” breaks through his mental abstraction, clearly not for the first time, and he shakes his head to clear it, cheeks flushing as he approaches the counter, mumbling apologies. He orders his drink, iced chai tea latte, please, making sure to leave a hefty tip in the jar.

Eager to spare himself further social anxiety, Cal grabs his drink as soon as it’s placed on the counter, mumbling another apology as he grabs a straw and walks briskly out of the exit closest to the parking lot, sipping eagerly at the drink (he swears it’s even better than usual) and what do you fucking know.

“Quincy,” Cal says when he reaches his car, clamping down on the little thrill he gets from knowing the name. He swirls the drink a little like some kind of movie character with a glass of wine. He’s chill. He’s cool.

“Oh. Hello, Cal,” Quincy says sheepishly. He’s standing at the front of a car—not just a car, the car—its hood propped open in a universal sign of defeat. “I seem to...be having some car trouble.”

“No fucking way,” Cal breathes out, because some things are too strange to be coincidences.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

Cal shakes himself. “No, you’re good, sorry. It’s just that, uh. This is your car?”

It’s a Mercedes AMG, and it’s been parked next to Cal’s car every day for a couple months now. Cal’s awe hasn’t dulled with time. He figured it belonged to some paranoid doctor, rich and extravagant and scared enough of car crashes to buy a luxury armored SUV. The fact that it belongs to Quincy isn’t strange all on its own—because sure, whatever, Quincy is well-off, that’s a thing that happens to people—but the odds of the day he realizes it belongs to Quincy being the same day he learns Quincy’s name after months of wondering and silence?

Well.

“Yes. It’s practically new,” Quincy says sadly, “but I’m hopeless with cars. It’s probably something rather foolish.”

And then, because Cal is a masochist, he finds himself saying “Well, I know a thing or two about cars,” and yeah, okay, this is happening, apparently.

“You do?” Quincy’s expression is nothing short of hopeful. “Cal, I would be incredibly grateful.”

“Of course,” Cal says, already moving toward the car, because who is he to say no to a beautiful boy in a yellow sweater, to a beautiful car with its hood propped open? “It’s no trouble. Keys?”

“In the ignition.”

Cal forces himself to focus on the task at hand, even though sitting in the driver’s seat makes him feel downright giddy. He tells himself it’s the car’s immaculate leather interiors, the sheer novelty of sitting in a ridiculous, extravagant vehicle, and not the boy standing in front of the hood with his arms folded across his chest in defeat. He takes a breath.

Although, he thinks as he twists the key in the ignition, surely this is an acceptable thing to be intrigued by. Why is unassuming Quincy, who looks no older than Cal, driving an armored SUV—and not just any armored SUV, but one that can sustain machine guns and hand grenades?

He guesses people could say the same about him and his car, because the upkeep of classic cars is a bit of a bitch, but Cal’s beat-up inherited ‘59 Chevy Apache isn't machine gun proof, and it certainly isn't new. She's valuable, of course, but she was passed down to him, not bought fresh off the lot, and that value is probably tempered by years of dings and scratches. She's not a symptom of extravagance the way this absolute mammoth must be. So. Not the same, actually.

When he tries to crank up the car, it makes a horrible grinding sound that he knows well, the needles on dashboard instruments shuddering. Cal takes great pains to compose his amused grin into something more sympathetic.

“Good news and bad news,” he says, slamming the car door behind him reflexively before cringing. This isn’t the Apache, with its squeaky doors and stubborn latches, and that door alone probably cost more than Cal’s college tuition. “The good news is it’s nothing serious. You’ve just got a dead battery.”

Quincy slumps a little with what Cal assumes is relief. “That seems manageable.”

“The bad news, though,” Cal says. “Do you have jumper cables?”

“No,” Quincy replies, ducking his head like he’s embarrassed.

“See, that’s what I was worried about.” Cal gestures to his own car. He sips at his latte, and is genuinely alarmed to realize it’s almost empty. It’s delicious, but still, he’s only had the drink for twenty minutes at the most. “I don’t have mine either. I--” Cal considers the location of his jumper cables, in a heap in the living room of the apartment, leftover from a Skype debate with Zara centered on a story her classmate insisted was true concerning jumper cables and nipples. Cal doesn’t regret the use of a visual aid--he won the debate, after all, because seriously, have you seen jumper cable clamps, there is no way--but he decides this is not something he needs to share with Sweater Guy. “They’re at home. I can go grab them and come back to give you a jump, though? Our place is literally right around the corner.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Quincy hedges, a little desperately. Cal sees him battling internally between the need to be polite and the need to get his car running again.

“You’re not imposing,” Cal says, “because I offered. Seriously. Apologizing to me when I ran into you! Thinking you’re an imposition after I offered you something! You’re too nice for your own good, Quince.” The nickname slips out without Cal’s consent, and he feels the tips of his ears warm.

Quincy looks at him, tilting his head curiously. “I have an anxiety disorder,” he says after a moment, very plainly, and Cal feels like the biggest asshole in the world. He feels like an even bigger asshole because his knee-jerk reaction is to laugh, because what a mood, really.

To his abject horror, the laughter actually bubbles out, warm and genuine and fuck, he needed it, but he can also feel himself blushing crimson, because Jesus Christ, Cal, this is not the kind of reaction you should be having to this information. “I’m sorry,” he manages after a too-long moment. “I’m so sorry, oh my God, I promise I’m not laughing at you. It’s just...fuck, we’re not allowed to be that blunt, you know?”

Quincy inclines his head again, an unspoken question, and yeah, okay, you made this bed, Cal, now lie in it.

“I just mean, like...okay. Example. I’m chronically ill, right? I have asthma, thanks for that, genetics, but anyway the point is that I tell people I’m sick and they’re like, get well soon! They don’t understand that I don’t...want that. They don’t get that I’m sick, and that it’s okay! That’s fine! If you’re sick, you either have to be dying, or you have to be overcoming it or some shit. I just…I wish I could introduce myself like hi, I’m Cal, I have depression and my lungs don’t work very well. But I can’t, because that’s weird, that makes healthy people feel awkward, and our whole lives are about making healthy people feel better about our fucking lives.” He takes a breath, a little more painfully than he would prefer because it's goddamn cold out. “I just mean...I don’t know. It’s refreshing.”

Well, okay. Emotional intensity with Sweater Guy is not what Cal banked on happening today, but Sweater Guy is Quincy Washington, and now that he’s looking at him up close, he kind of feels like he’s demystifying him or...or something. The expensive sweater, he sees, is fraying at the sleeve from being picked at nervously. That annoyed expression, the one Cal always interpreted as aloof, is the face Quincy makes when his glasses start slipping down his nose. His sex hair is just...really good hair, perhaps a little mussed at the roots from a tendency to run his hands through it with the air of an exasperated father in a movie, and what’s wrong with that, really?

Sweater Guy, as it happens, is just a guy.

Anyway, Cal’s shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, feeling the full force of the straight-up monologue he’s just delivered, but then Quincy is saying “That’s exactly it” in this relieved goddamn voice, so maybe things are okay after all. “What is that? Why do they make it so weird? It’s not as though it’s contagious.”

“Right? I don’t know. I’m just kind of exhausted of healthy people.” He inclines his head, toward his car, moving to the driver’s side because, again, it’s cold as shit and his lungs ache and he really should get Quincy that jump. “I’ll go grab those cables.” Something in the pit of his stomach grumbles at the movement, and he frowns, a reflexive hand coming up to rest on his belly. Weird.

“Oh, yeah,” Quincy says, like he’s forgotten what the whole point of this was (and doesn’t that just make something warm pool in Cal’s chest, God, he’s so screwed), and casts a withering glance toward the hospital doors. Cal looks at him for a second, shivering underneath his layers in front of his out-of-commission car, and before he can think about it any further than that he’s saying “You can ride with me there and back, if you want? It’s awfully cold out.”

Quincy positively beams. “I would like that very much, Cal.”

Okay then.

Amy is doing an honest-to-God tarot reading in the middle of the living room when Cal gets home, complete with candles and a red cloth draped over their coffee table, and isn’t that just their whole relationship summarized. He throws Quincy a put-upon glance over his shoulder, and Quincy bites his lip to keep from laughing. Has Cal mentioned that Quincy is attractive? God fucking damn it.

“Permission to enter the divination room?” he says in lieu of a hello, and Amy startles, nearly knocking over one of the candles.

“Cal!” Amy says, scandalized, staggering to her feet. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming! I would’ve gotten rid of these!”

Cal can’t help but chuckle. “I’m not going to have an asthma attack from candles, Ames.”

“You could! Go--go stand in the kitchen or something! Make your friend help me!”

Cal gives Quincy a look, a sort of see what I have to deal with? shrug, and Quincy responds with an amused smirk. “I’d be happy to help,” he says in a tone that sounds like he’s honest-to-God fucking with Cal. “What tarot deck is that?”

The kitchen is essentially attached to the living room, the two only separated by a narrow doorway, but Cal shrugs and takes this opportunity to wriggle out of his jacket and grab a soda from the fridge. He has a feeling he’s gonna be here for a while. As he reaches into the fridge, however, that strange little twinge deep in his belly makes itself known again, and he grimaces as a cramp seizes his insides. He closes the refrigerator empty-handed, leaning a suddenly-clammy forehead against the cool stainless steel. This does not bode well.

“So how do you know Cal, again?” Amy is saying just as he’s composed himself enough to re-enter the living room. Quincy has migrated to the couch, at least, albeit with his back ramrod straight, Amy apparently having been satisfied that Cal is not in any immediate mortal peril.

“He volunteers at the hospital with me,” Cal says before Quincy can say anything, and when Amy glances over at him, Amy mouths Sweater Guy over Quincy’s head. Amy’s eyes bulge, so Cal forges ahead before she can say something to embarrass him. “His battery died, so I came here for the jumper cables.”

“Riiight, the hospital,” Amy says, a barely restrained grin in her voice, and God, when Amy tells Zara that Cal brought Sweater Guy home he is never going to hear the end of it. “Did you put up the fliers, by the way? We’re really gonna struggle this month if we don’t get it figured out soon,” and Cal looks up sharply, idly placing a hand on his stomach when it protests at the movement. Why is Amy bringing up the roommate fliers now?

“I know,” Cal says slowly, trying to communicate please don’t do this now with just a glance.. He sits on the couch next to Quincy, careful to leave a socially acceptable distance between them. “I know, Amy. But...no, I didn’t.” He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve, his stomach starting to churn in earnest.

“Cal,” Amy chastises, and Cal thinks he would prefer anger to disappointment. “Did you talk to anyone, at least? It’ll be easier if it’s someone we know for, like, negotiating rent and stuff.”

“Um,” Cal says eloquently, but then Quincy is saying, “Actually, he talked to me,” and alright then, that took a turn.

“Oh,” Amy says, skeptical, but her face has brightened nonetheless. “Really?”

“That’s part of why I brought him with me to grab the cables,” Cal says, because he’s rolling with this, apparently. He really is never going to live this down. “To show him the room.”

“I wanted to see it for myself,” Quincy says sagely.

“Uh, yeah,” Cal adds lamely.

Amy is giving him this proud goddamn grin, and Cal is having trouble looking at it, because seriously, it shouldn't be like this. Amy has left this whole roommate search up to him, which is a nice gesture—Amy could live with anyone, with her natural inclination toward small talk and her compulsive baking which is the least unwelcome coping mechanism and her goddamn optimism, but Cal, with his bound chest and testosterone injections, has a lot more to lose here. The thing is, Cal, for all his charm and his mock-flirting and his wolfish grins, has a hard time with people, so him bringing home a coworker (or whatever he's supposed to call Quincy—coworker doesn't feel right, and Cal's trying really hard not to overanalyze that) isn't exactly a common occurrence. Amy is a proud parent smiling at her kid for making friends on the first day of kindergarten, and Cal loves her for it, he does, but it also chafes against him like his chest binder on a hot day.

"Well, go ahead," Amy finally says, breaking what could have turned into an awkward silence. "Don't let me stop you! I'm Amy, by the way. What's your name? I’m not sure I caught it." She glances at Cal as she says with a terribly unsubtle wink.

"Quincy Washington," Quincy says in that same quiet way he told Cal. "It's wonderful to meet you, Amy. I’m a fan of tarot myself and you have an excellent eye for ambiance."

"Thanks!" Amy beams, and Cal wrenches himself off the couch and ushers Quincy down the hallway before Amy loops him into a conversation about the history of tarot or some shit. Cal loves her to death, but knows she’s practically chomping at the bit. He won’t be surprised if she’s texting Zara as he speaks.

"You did me a solid, there, Quincy," Cal says quietly when they're far enough down the hall to be out of Amy’s earshot, hyper-aware of how sluggish he is. "We can just waste a little time and then I'll get you that jump."

"May I see the room?" Quincy asks, and Cal's heart just about stops entirely. "I'm glad to have done you...a solid, but I do happen to be looking for a room to let." His voice catches strangely and unfamiliarly around the slang.

Cal stares at him for a second. "Seriously?"

"I am very serious. If you'll have me, of course," Quincy says then, rushing through the second sentence and looking self-conscious about it.

"No, I just..." Cal says in something like disbelief, then shakes himself off. "Anyway. I guess I'll show you the room, then?"

"Please," Quincy says, so Cal leads the way.

"It's kind of small," he says apologetically, pushing open the door and flicking on the lights. They're Edison bulbs, and they cast the room in buttery yellow. "And obviously we'd move this stuff out of here if you moved in."

Quincy doesn’t say anything, and Cal turns to see that his face is frozen in genuine, slack-jawed awe. It's more than a little endearing, and Cal tucks his fond little grin away before he speaks. "You're a book guy, huh?"

"You could say that," Quincy breathes, and moves forward a little. "May I—?"

"Go for it," Cal says, and Quincy reaches out to touch one of the bookcases.

The room belonged to Zara until she moved out, the smallest room by far but also the one with the most windows, all against the far wall looking out toward the main road. Pushed against the opposite wall are three wood-paneled curio cabinets that Henry once used as bookshelves, packed tight with the books he cared about most in this world. Many of them are leather-bound and there is more than one special edition, all of them older than Cal's grandparents.

"They're beautiful," Quincy finally says after a moment, "but why do you have rare books in your apartment?"

Cal snorts, because it is so contrary to what he was expecting, but also because this is a valid question. "Honestly," he says, "I just couldn't bear to part with them. They were my dad's." The words are out before he realizes he's just dropped the dead dad bomb, so he forges ahead. "Uh, like I said, we'd get them out of here before you moved in."

"Or you could leave them," Quincy murmurs, eyes darting back and forth as he scans the titles. "God, is that a livre d'artist?"

On some level, Cal registers that this a very pretentious question, and also that there is just something strange about the way Quincy speaks, like everything he says has been polished beforehand. On another, baser level, he finds it frustratingly hot. "Uh, that sounds like a question I should maybe know the answer to, but honestly, these were my dad's thing. I haven't opened up any of the books since he died. I keep the shelves dusted, but I'm not much of a literature person."

"Are you a book person?" Quincy asks.

"Come on, you can be one or the other. People can like books without liking capital L literature," he says, turning to look at Cal with this ridiculously excited expression. It's kind of heartwarming. "You know, people who hate Hemingway but loved Twilight."

Cal may or may not have the entire saga on the much smaller, far less decorative bookshelf beside his bed, but Quincy doesn't need to know that. "Interesting distinction. Yeah, I guess I am."

"I knew it. Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

"Wow I hate this conversation."

Quincy smirks and turns back to the shelves with a quiet sort of reverence that makes Cal smile. It also makes his heart ache a little because it reminds him so much of his dad, but it's an ache that has dulled with the passage of time.

"So," Cal says, trying to sound casual, "Are you a student?"

"Yes," Quincy replies, still scanning book titles with a feverish intensity that skirts perilously close to lunacy. "I'm a senior. Are you?"

"Yeah," Cal says thinly. There's still a chance, he tells himself, and has to catch his breath as his stomach cramps again. A low rumble has begun deep in his gut, like someone set it to simmer, his stomach doing lazy barrel rolls that make him swallow hard. "Senior, too. Pre-med."

"I'm a double major. Classics and Theology. Not the most practical, I know," Quincy says, sheepishly, like he's used to people reacting poorly to it.

Fuck. God fucking damn it.

"Oh!" Cal says, forcibly infusing his voice with something akin to enthusiasm. "That's really cool. Um. Side note, just by the way..."

Quincy looks at him inquiringly. Fuck. All at once, his stomach cramps harshly enough to have him seeing stars, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead again, and he can’t quite stifle a pained moan, clutching at his roiling insides, leaning against the doorframe for support.

“Are you okay, Cal?” Quincy takes a step toward him, evidently not too worried about whatever Cal was going to say, looking more concerned than Cal would expect from someone who avoided the fuck out of him prior to today, and he gives a pained nod, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Something bubbles in his lower belly painfully, and it hits him all at once.

“Fuck,” he hisses, noticing all at once how his stomach is puffy, poking out under his shirt and over the waistband of his jeans, how the cramps are accompanied by a near-constant rumble and oppressive waves of nausea. “Sorry, I’m--I just forgot to ask for—” He swallows again, hardly able to think about the damned chai tea latte, presumably made with full fat milk, churning around inside him. “I’m...lactose intolerant,” he manages, painfully aware that this is happening in front of Sweater Guy of all people. “I forgot to ask for almond milk instead of regular.”

“Are you alright?” Quincy sounds alarmed, eyes darting from Cal to the door and back again. “Should I get Amy? Is it an allergy, or—?”

“No, no,” Cal manages, laughing lightly. “You sound just like her, though. It’s just—” He grimaces, clutching at a twinge of nausea— “Just a pretty gnarly tummy ache. I’ll be okay.” He allows himself to rest a hand on his belly, straightening up through immense willpower. “Seriously, let’s just...move on, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Quincy murmurs, still looking rather concerned. It’s endearing, Cal thinks, even through the fog of nausea and the embarrassment tinging his cheeks red. “I believe you were saying something?”

“Oh,” Cal remembers, and looks at the floor. "My dad's name was Henry Kline?"

Quincy freezes. To his credit, he reigns in the incredulous expression relatively quickly.

"Cal," he says instead, very sincerely, turning to look at him with sad, sad eyes. "Cal, I am so sorry."

"Don't be," Cal mumbles, looking down, rubbing at the back of his neck. His stomach lets out a loud, angry rumble, and he flushes an even deeper shade of crimson. "I just, uh, wanted you to know from me. 'Cause if you live here, you gotta understand that people are gonna talk. They always do, about us. 'Specially when they hear our last name."

"Cal Kline," Quincy realizes all at once, and then, with that painful sincerity again, "I wouldn't listen."

Cal smiles despite himself. "Thanks, Quincy."

Quincy clears his throat, straightening up from where he's been crouched to pour over the books. Cal is sort of impressed at the sheer muscle tone it must’ve taken to forget he was doing a deep squat. "Cal, I have something to tell you as well."

This is it, Cal thinks. He doesn't want the room. Doesn't want to live with the bereaved Klines. It's too much. Just give him the jump and go back to never speaking again. The anxiety stirs up his upset stomach, and he clamps down forcibly on a burp that tries to burble up. His stomach lets out a low groan in response to the air being forced back into it.

"I was studying under Professor Kline," he says instead, and oh, okay. Which is to say, what the fucking shit, how many motherfucking coincidences can there feasibly be in one 12-hour period, but okay, it's better than what Cal was expecting. "I was a teaching assistant, and I was helping him restore his book collection." He glances back to the shelves. "I should have recognized them immediately, but I never saw them on the shelves..."

Cal's glad Quincy isn't looking at him anymore, because he can't vouch for what his face is doing. The ache Henry left is healing, dulled with the passage of time, but it still hurts if Cal picks at it. Quincy studied with Henry. Quincy knew him in a way Cal never did, never will, his brain screams, and something about that is just, well. His stomach flips, something cramping low and urgent in his belly.

Quincy is beautiful, and he is wearing a yellow sweater, and he likes Cal's car, and the only reason he cares that Cal's last name is Kline is because he doesn't want to be inconsiderate to Cal.

So, fuck.

"Well, now that we've got the awkward parts out of the way," Cal says, and Quincy flashes him a genuine smile that is positively blinding. He recovers from his seven consecutive heart attacks before continuing, "I can show you the rest of the apartment."

“Are you sure?” Quincy glances dubiously at Cal, who still has an arm curled around his belly. “You’re awfully pale.”

“That’s, uh—” Cal laughs nervously, feeling sicker and sicker by the moment. “Yeah. Maybe you could just...show yourself around?” At that moment, a low whine fills the apartment, a sure tell that Amy has gotten into the shower, and Cal’s stomach tightens. “Minus the bathroom, I guess. Sorry, our pipes do that when we use the shower. I’m just gonna, uh, have a seat in the living room.”

Quincy doesn’t question this, and Cal sends up a silent cry of gratitude to whoever may be listening. He settles into his favorite crease on the sofa, looking furtively over his shoulder to make sure Quincy is occupied with checking out the patio before pressing both hands to his grumbling stomach, feeling irritable movement beneath his palms. Oh, it hurts, cramps squeezing at his lower belly like a vice, a sticky, hot nausea plaguing his tummy. He tries in vain to soothe the ache, rubbing his hand across his bloated stomach as gently as possible, but the touch only sends up a dangerous belch that leaves him panting, hanging over the edge of the couch, the taste of chai and stomach acid coating his mouth revoltingly.

Quincy’s self-guided tour doesn't take long; their three-bedroom student apartment doesn't exactly contain multitudes. Cal has thankfully composed himself before Quincy pokes his head into the living room. “I have seen what I need to see, I believe,” he says with that stiff formality that seems to crop up occasionally.

"Yeah, that's the place! Nice and straightforward,” Cal says brightly, as convincingly as he can without moving around too much. “Any clutter you see is mine because Amy is an android, probably."

Quincy smiles, and Cal's cardiac health continues to worsen, God those fucking smiles. "Can you prove it?"

"Irrefutably. Evidence: runs for fun. Consumes spinach, also for fun. Wakes up and goes to bed at the same time every day. Possibly irons her clothes, but I'm still not sure on that one."

"She sounds...pretty human. Perhaps you're the android."

"No, I just have depression," Cal says before he can stop himself.

Quincy throws his head back and laughs, and it makes Cal feel so fucking warm. Has he mentioned recently that he is completely screwed in a way that has nothing to do with his cramping stomach?

"God, Amy hates when I joke about it. It'll be nice to have someone who understands around here when you move in."

Quincy straightens up. "When I move in?"

"What can I say. You sold me. If you want to live here, I want you to live here." He smiles, small.

It was kind of a done deal when you said you worked with Henry Kline, Cal doesn't say. The way you talk to me like I'm a normal person and the fact that you're fucking gorgeous are just bonuses.

"There is one more thing," he says, steeling himself. Much of his life is spent steeling himself. He pauses, waiting for Quincy to make a joke, to grin another heart-stopping grin, but he just looks at Cal curiously. "I'm trans. I wasn't born a male but I am and always have been a boy. I bind my chest and live as a male and use he/him pronouns. If you don't understand it, that's okay, but I will demand a certain level of respect in my own home, and it'd be preferable if that respect was voluntary." The speech is well-oiled from use, but Cal's voice still shakes.

"Is that all?" Quincy says, and Cal feels his entire body slump in relief, straightening back up a little when his stomach protests. "I mean, of course, Cal. I'm not ignorant."

"Oh, yeah, right. Thank you, gentle cis man. I worship at the holy altar of your allyship." He says it like a joke, but it takes effort to get out, because despite everything, it's taken him years to give this speech to a receptive audience and not feel like he's been granted a favor.

It's taken him years to say I'm here and not have it come out as I'm sorry.

When he told Zara, it was this whole thing, Zara reaching across the table to clasp one of Cal's hands in both of hers, you know I'm here for you, right? Cal's Facebook messages are full of Zara sending him every post she sees with the word trans in it, and like yeah, Zara, you're very sweet and supportive, but sometimes Cal just wants to be Cal, you know?

It's just that Cal's known Quincy for all of a few hours and he already feels so goddamn understood.

"I'm happy to pay whatever Zara’s share was," Quincy says, "And if you would be willing to leave Professor Kline's books, I would be honored."

"Consider it done," Cal says, smiling a little. He’s almost able to forget about the slow, sinister ache in his stomach. Almost. "Though get ready for Amy to talk about it all the time. She’s really not on board with them being here."

"I mean...religion isn't my cup of tea either, believe it or not, but I saw an original King James Bible. That alone has to be worth at least twenty grand. Literature person or not, that's...a really valuable thing to be keeping in your rented apartment."

Cal's eyes flit to the tiled floor, and he can feel Quincy's gaze on him, and he knows he's biting his lip, something he does often enough that one side of it is slightly larger than the other.

"Oh...Cal, I apologize. I didn't mean to intrude." It's that stiff formality from their almost-collision at the hospital again, and when Cal glances up, Quincy is backing away from him, hands folded behind his back. "I'm sure they're insured, or...even if they're not...I just mean, it's your business, of course. I apologize."

"No, it's fine." Cal clears his throat nervously. "You're right. Zara and Amy just kind of went a little crazy helping me get rid of his stuff when he died, and they wanted to donate them to the university. I probably should have let them, but..." He shrugs, wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, presses his lips together around another burp that he forces down, wincing at the added pressure. "It's not like these are even all the books he had. There are probably hundreds in the storage unit. But I'm ridiculous, and they were just his thing, and for some reason the thought of them just sitting in a dusty room with boxes of his old clothes and the lawnmower and literal cobwebs just didn't sit right, so."

"So you brought them here." Quincy looks at him like he understands, and isn't just that the worst fucking thing? "I get it."

"I kind of do want to donate them, as it turns out," and wow, okay, Cal didn't realize that until he says it out loud. "I'm just a little worried because I haven't exactly been...maintaining them, or whatever. I wouldn't even know where to start. If I'm going to let the university open up the Henry Kline Memorial Library or whatever the fuck, I don’t want to give them dusty books with cracked spines, you know? He would've hated that."

Quincy clears his throat, licks his lips a little, and wow, okay, Cal's feeling things again. "I don't know if this is something you'd even be comfortable with, but...I could continue the work I was doing with Professor Kline. We were in the middle of restoring his collection, and I learned his technique well. I still have access to the labs. I could take it one book at a time. With your approval, of course."

Cal blinks. "Um...yeah. Yeah, okay. That's super cool of you, thank you."

"Are you kidding?" Quincy blurts, and then scratches the back of his neck a little like he's embarrassed. "I mean, it's just that you're doing me a favor. Henry Kline's book collection...I'll admit that I've missed them."

Cal can't help the little smile that tugs his lips up, and seriously, he has to get these feelings under control, God, the guy hasn't even moved in yet.

Before he can say anything, Quincy's face softens into that aching sympathy again. "And Cal...I miss him, as well. He was a good man."

Cal kind of wants to cry, so suddenly and desperately that it takes his breath away for a second. His stomach churns audibly, and Quincy looks at him in alarm.

"Quincy," he says when he gets his voice back, "How soon can you move in?"

Quincy beams. "How soon will you have me?"

When Amy gets out of the shower, Cal is sprawled across the couch, openly groaning, clutching his stomach with both hands.

"What happened to Quin--Cal?” Amy blurts out as she enters the living room, rushing over to the couch when she takes in Cal’s sickly pallor.

“Finally drove him back and jumped his car," Cal groans, still marveling that he was able to hold it together long enough. He may or may not have had to pull over on the way back, heaving up a trickle of stomach acid and chai tea latte onto the side of the road, at least as much due to anxiety as it was to lactose intolerance, but Amy doesn’t need to know that. "Says he'll take the room…"

“Okay, that’s great, we’ll unpack that later,” Amy says, sitting gently at Cal’s feet, “But what’s going on with this?” She doesn’t wait for permission, laying a soft hand on Cal’s bloated belly, kneading gently at a cramp, ushering up a soft burp. Amy is sort of a miracle worker.

"’S gonna pay Zara’s share,” Cal murmurs, leaning into Amy’s touch, grimacing as the pressure ushers up a burp that brings up a wave of stomach acid. He swallows hard.

"Again, that’s great, but,” Amy says, rubbing his belly in wide arcs, maintaining a steady pressure that does wonders for the cramps. “What the hell?”

“I got anxious getting my latte,” he mumbles, letting his eyes slide shut. Amy’s ministrations are easing the worst of the nausea, and he is so, so thankful for her. “Forgot to ask for almond milk.”

“Cal,” Amy says, all faint disapproval and warm concern. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were showering,” he whines, then whimpers a little at a particularly strong cramp, and Amy moves closer, applying a bit more pressure as she kneads at the cramp, massaging her other hand gently over the burbly places in his lower belly. “I made him show himself around. He didn’t even mind.”

“Sounds like a dreamboat,” Amy says, her voice light and teasing.

Cal doesn't know what to say to that that won't be self-incriminating, so he just says, "He really likes yellow."

"I noticed that,” Amy agrees. "When does he move in?"

Cal keeps his eyes shut, studiously avoiding eye contact. "Tomorrow."

"Oh, wow, so soon! I can't wait to get to know him." Amy’s tone is completely genuine, probably working out what she can bake that properly conveys a message of thanks for living with us! She applies a bit of firm pressure unexpectedly to the bloat beneath Cal’s ribs, and he groans, feeling a flutter in his stomach as it tries and fails to expel a rush of trapped air. “Oof--please don’t do that again,” he manages, clutching at his chest.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Amy says, sounding genuinely sad, and Cal slowly opens his eyes. “Just seems like you’ve got quite a lot of air stuck in there. Would you like some tea? Not chai, I guess...”

Cal groans, shoving a couch pillow over his face. “I know. I’m an idiot. Oh, my tummy—”

“Let me make you that tea,” Amy says lightly, giving his tummy a little pat before wrenching herself off the couch, and Cal loves the fuck out of her, has he mentioned?

"I think you'll like him," Cal calls as Amy moves into the kitchen, deciding to take this opportunity to drop the bomb, adding more quietly, "Oh, and, small world, he worked with my dad."

The rustling in the kitchen pauses, then starts again almost as suddenly as it stopped. "Does he...?"

"Yeah, I told him. Didn't seem to bother him. He really likes the books."

"The books," Amy murmurs, and oh God, not this again, but Amy is already following up with "Have you thought any more about what you're going to do with them?"

Cal takes a deep breath and feels it stutter a little in his chest, reminding him he's been binding for a bit too long. "Yeah, actually. They were working on restoring the books when Dad died. He said he'd help me get them back into shape and I think I'll donate them to the university."

"Oh," Amy says, pleasantly, and Cal reminds himself that Amy is good, that Amy is only doing what she thinks is best, what Zara told her would be best, that most rational people would question the wisdom of having cases of books worth thousands of dollars in an apartment not known for its impenetrable security measures. "That's really cool. He sounds like a really neat guy, Cal."

Cal thinks of yellow-tinted glasses, of that scar on his face and the way he looked at Cal like he understands him. "Yeah," he says softly. "He really is."

“Ginger or mint?” Amy calls, and Cal is thankful for the change of subject.

“Ginger, please,” he calls back, carefully cupping his stomach with his palm, and takes a very deep breath.

A long while later, Amy has fallen asleep on his shoulder, a hand still splayed across his slightly-less-bloated belly, old episodes of The Twilight Zone streaming at a low volume on the TV. Cal can’t be bothered to move, too comfortable, too deep in thought, the churning of his belly finally soothed by Amy’s ministrations and a few shamefaced trips to the bathroom.

Cal thinks about his dad every day, and that is no euphemism. He sometimes drifts past the extra room (Quincy's room, he thinks, something blooming in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to deal with right now) and sees his books, or catches sight of the scar on his knee he got the first and last time he and his dad went fishing when they were supposed to be studying for Cal's math test the next day, when a stray hook went straight through and he needed stitches, remembers the ice cream after, I'm not going to say don't tell your mom, but I'm going to say I won't if you won't, and he smiles, just a little (he didn't tell his mother). Every night he lays in a bed across from a desk that's been flush to the wall underneath the window since the day his dad built it, the one they picked out together at IKEA before Cal moved in, the one that had him muttering profanities for three hours on a blisteringly hot day in August while Zara’s mother, Virginia, poked her head in intermittently, how are those PhDs treating you, Dr. Kline? Cal thinks about his dad all the time.

It's just that he can't remember the day he died.

It's just that he knows that he's the one who found the body, that he's the one who, somehow, called 911, who clung to Amy when the ambulance came, but he knows it the way you know stories about your fourth birthday party or your first day of school—more retelling than memory. Something you know because you're told.

If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can remember what his uncle was wearing that day, what the perfume of the hospital secretary smelled like, but he can't for the life of him remember his dad's face, what the last thing he said to him was. And when it comes down to it, maybe he doesn’t remember what his uncle was wearing at all, maybe he just remembers him saying at the funeral, he bought me this tie, you know.

You'd be surprised how many people come to a funeral for a professor, how many handshakes and hugs Cal got just for losing someone. How many looks of pity he got (gets) when they hear his name: Cal Kline, the guy who found his dad dead.

And he can't even remember it.

Psychogenic amnesia, Dr. Hodge told him in one of their first sessions, because yeah, when you're trans and you find your dad dead and can't fucking remember it, the one thing you spare no expense on is a really badass therapist. His brain couldn't handle what happened. He repressed it. It was the emotional shock, was the trauma, was the pain, yeah, Cal gets it.

It's just that the one thing you should be allowed to hold onto are lasts, and Cal can't even remember his. He thinks of his dad and sees fishing, sees the lectures he sometimes sat in on, sees a receding hairline and eyes just like his and of course I still love you, sweetheart, daughter or son, you're family, and it aches.

He wonders if Quincy's lost someone, if that's why he looked at him like that, eyes soft and understanding but not pitying. I get it, he said, and Cal believes him.

Cal rolls that around in his head like a marble.

I get it. I get it. I get it.

Yellow's an awfully pretty color.

#timeline #Cal #Zara #Quincy #Amy #okay yeah i forgot to write a bio for zara we'll get to that later #i. did not proofread this #belly rubs #spot the myx shoutout :P

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woildismyerster · 6 years

Note

Hey there! So your Johnny Simpson fic was amazing and perfect and I was wondering if you’d be willing to do just one more? Maybe this one a little angsty but with a happy ending? Just so when I read the fics over and over again I can switch between angst and fluff? Of course you absolutely 100% don’t have to. Just if you want to and have an idea. Love you. Love your writing. You’re an angel.

You know, I’m not sure that I’m capable of writing angst. I sure tried, though.

“You’re joking,” you said. Your fingers shook a little, wrinkling the form Johnny had given you. “This isn’t real.”

“It’s real,” he said. He grinned at you, but there was an edge of dread under it. That seemed about right - he was a hero, off to war, and that was as bittersweet a thing as there could possibly be. “I’m shipping out next week.”

“No,” you said. “You aren’t.”

He was not leaving, because it wasn’t possible for there to be a town without him. How could you walk into the diner if he wasn’t there? Were you supposed to look out at crowds of people, knowing that he wouldn’t be in them? Who would mow your father’s lawn? Who would ask you to proofread his job applications, even though you always griped about it? Who would take you out for drives on the weekends, ignoring the girls he actually dated, so you wouldn’t be lonely watching your friends with their beaus?

“I won’t have it,” you said.

“I’ve already enlisted,” he said. Johnny had taken you out for a drive, but hadn’t talked about what the purpose was until he had parked in your driveway again. Maybe he was too scared to tell you. Maybe he had worried that there would be nothing to talk about in the wake of the news. “Y/N, I want to make the most of this last week; please don’t be mad.”

“Why on earth would I be mad?” The question was thick with disdain. You knew that it was misplaced; you were angry at the situation, not the man. “Because my best friend joined the military without talking to me? Because he’s probably going to die, and I won’t find out for weeks? Maybe I’ll never find out, and I’ll always wonder what happened out there. Psh, no, I’m not mad.”

“People are dying,” he said. He grabbed your hand, and even in your anger, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him. “If I can help, shouldn’t I?”

“This ruins all of your plans,” you said. A tear slipped out and you wiped it away before he could. You knew that he would try, and that was too much of a blow.

“My plans will still be there when I come home.”

“If you come home.”

“And you’ll still be here when I get back,” he said. “I will come back, and it’ll be you and me, like always.”

“Maybe not,” you lied. “Maybe I’ll marry somebody else and move to California, or New York. Somewhere far away.” Fat chance. You had decided that you wanted to marry Johnny years ago, before marriage was a passing thought in most boys.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, and the first note of nervousness rang in his voice. “Can you wait?”

“Wait to get married until you get home?” You wiped at your face again and plastered on a small, teasing smile. “Why, so you can be my maid of honor?”

“So I can be the groom,” he sighed.

Your head whipped to the side, and your hand jerked out of his. “What?”

“Y/N - you and I were always heading here, right? It’s always been us, and I think I always knew it would be us in the end.”

“You’ve never acted like it,” you said. The words were matter-of-fact, not bitter. That didn’t lessen the sheepish look he gave you.

“We had time. I wasn’t worried.”

“But now you are?”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’m not worried. I’ll come back to you. I just want to be sure that, when I do, you know what I’m hoping for.”

You picked up his hand from where it had settled on your thigh. “Johnny -”

“We’ll write while I’m away, and if nothing changes, I’ll want to marry you,” he rushed. “Please.”

“We’ll write,” you said. He looked at you, uncertainty evident, and you smiled. “We’ll write, and we can talk about the rest later.”

“I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or not,” he teased.

“Not. Definitely not.” You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed you back. “Come home, and we’ll figure it out. I don’t want to tell my parents about an engagement without the fiance there.”

He laughed, and it sealed the agreement more than a contract ever could.

“Were we friends?”

His question upon coming home was worse than any of his other uncertainties - worse than not remembering your name, his hesitancy to be alone in a room with you, the fact that he had to ask you how you took your coffee.

“Still are,” you said. You took a stiff sip of coffee. “It’s always been the two of us.”

“They said that I have a lot of friends,” he said.

“Do you not remember any of them?”

“Some,” he mumbled. “Not their faces, but moments with them. It comes and goes.”

You wanted to ask what he remembered. An unofficial proposal? Sneaking out to meet in the park? Eating bologna sandwiches at drive in movies? You wanted to ask him what he knew about you, if anything, but that didn’t seem fair. That left only one thing.

“Can I help?”

“No,” he immediately said. “No, the doctor said that this is how I am now. After the crash, this is miraculous enough.”

You hummed, dissatisfied.

“Did you hear about the crash? It’s a wild story - I was riding in the car -” Johnny smiled while he spoke, and though it was beautiful, it was not the smile he reserved for you.

“You live on my block,” Johnny said thoughtfully.

You white-knuckled the shopping basket, trying not to look like you wanted to break something, scream something, change everything. “I do.”

He gave a pleased smile. “Good. I’m not so good at remembering faces, you know. Not after the car flipped three times.”

You reached out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N.”

His hand, holding yours like it was something fragile, faltered in its shake. “Y/N.”

“Yes.”

“I know you,” he said. His brow was furrowed. In another time, you would have smoothed the lines with your thumb. He would have smiled at you then, but now the brow would only have dipped deeper. “I’m sure of it.”

“I’m your neighbor,” you offered.

“More than that. I remember you.”

“We were friends.” Then, after a blinding pulse of panic, “are. Are friends.”

He gave a nod, but you saw him running his troubled fingers along the sleeve of his suit jacket. “That’s not what I’m thinking of, but I don’t know what it is.”

You grinned, light and soft. “We were madly in love. You wanted to marry me.” He stiffened, but relaxed when you shot a late wink.

“That seems closer,” he said distantly. He shook off the uncertainty and smiled back. “Can I walk with you? Just until you’re ready to go home.”

You shuffled to the side. “Be my guest.”

Matthew Morgan asked you out in high school. You said no, and Johnny laughed about it for days.

Matt asked you out during the first winter break of college. You said no, and Johnny joked that at least you would always have a back up. You had been furious at him for saying so, but that didn’t stop him from bringing it up periodically.

Matt asked you out during the war. You said no, that you were waiting for your man to come home. You wrote Johnny about it, and he said that you would never have to worry about it again. He said that before you knew it, you would be planning a wedding.

Matt asked you out after the war. Johnny’s brow furrowed every time he saw you, like he thought that he almost knew you. You said yes to Matt, and there was nobody to tell you that this was not how your life was supposed to turn out.

“Who’s the guy that keeps coming to your house?” Johnny walked with you through the store again, carrying a basket of his own.

“My boyfriend,” you said. The word sat funny in your mouth. It hadn’t when you told your parents, and it hadn’t when you talked to the friends you usually ran with. It was just Johnny, who smiled more every day and seemed to feel more like himself every time you saw him.

“I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” He grinned. “What’s his name?”

“Matt. We went to school with him.”

“Did we like him?”

“Yeah.” You grabbed an apple and looked it over, scanning for bruises. “Not as much as he liked us, but yes.”

“That’s great. Really.” He was all warmth, all slow charm and pleasant cheer. “Can I meet him? Again?”

“Absolutely,” you said. This had to be a new chapter of life. This had to be a new start, where it wasn’t you and Johnny against the world. This time, you would have boyfriends. You wouldn’t pine. “You should come over sometime.”

“I think a lot of people were worried you’d be alone forever.” Then, with a light elbow in the side, “I never worried. You’re too good not to be snatched up.”

Sometimes you thought about telling him everything - that he had snatched you up, that everybody worried you’d never move on. You decided not to; it wouldn’t help anything at all.

“And the car flipped -”

“Three times,” Matt finished. His smile was gentle, but annoyed nonetheless. “I know, John. You’ve told that story before.”

The two men sat at your kitchen table, sipping at coffee. You cringed at Matt’s words. Yes, Johnny retold stories. That had never bothered you; he was a good storyteller, and he was an avid listener when you wanted to talk. You had been nervous to reintroduce the boys, but now you were embarrassed at Matt’s behavior. It wasn’t as though Johnny could help it.

“Have I? Sorry, bud.” Johnny’s eyes were apologetic, but they didn’t go pink the way they sometimes did when you had to remind him of something.

When you escorted him out, you scowled at Matt. “That was rude.”

“He won’t get better if nobody pushes him, doll.” Matt shrugged on a coat and smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m trying to help him.”

“He isn’t sick. This isn’t something that we know will get better.”

“In that case, it isn’t like he’ll remember this next time we see him, right?” He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you ducked away.

“He might. He remembers me,” you said.

“Not the way things were,” Matt said. It was the only time he was remotely cool with you - when you brought up your life with Johnny before. “He only knows the bones of who you are now.”

When he tried to kiss you again, you let him. You let him, and went back to speak with Johnny. Johnny joked more with just you, and you suspected that he may have been playing dumb.

“So,” you asked casually, “what did you think of Matt?”

“He was alright,” was the non-committal reply. “I think you’re settling.”

“How’s that?”

Johnny shrugged, and that was all.

Johnny seldom came to your house. Your parents didn’t know how to deal with him after everything, so it was better to spend time elsewhere. There was also the added need to keep Matt from seeing him come over - the two of you did nothing inappropriate, but you were sure he would make a scene if he thought something was going on. When the doorbell rang and he was the person visible through the window, you were sure that something was wrong.

“Johnny, hey! What’s going on?”

“We should go on a walk,” he said, and a sliver of ice settled in your heart.

It didn’t seem like he had a destination in mind when he led you through neighborhoods and trails. That made you feel even worse - this was a Walk. Something was happening.

“I asked you if we were friends,” he finally said.

A part of you wanted to make a joke. Which time?

“And I told you that we were,” you said instead.

“But that wasn’t it,” he said. He looked at you, and the ice spread when you saw the look on his face. “I was rereading your letters. They never made much sense to me, since I had half of a conversation that I didn’t remember.”

“Okay.”

“But there was one letter - you said that we would be talking to your father when I got home. I remembered something when I reread it.”

You knew that letter. You had been speaking lightly at the end, not wanting to get too sappy while you told him that you would have him when he got back. The two of you had always known it, on some level or another, but it was the only time you said it baldly. You would talk to your father - you would marry him someday.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You should have told me,” he said, and the anger in his voice was unfamiliar to you. This wasn’t irritation when you insulted a girl he dated, or offense when you took a joke too far. This was betrayal. “You should have told me that we loved each other.”

“You didn’t know me,” you said. It was the only response you could think of - nobody else had really known. It was just the two of you, making a promise that you could no longer expect him to keep. “I didn’t want to hold you to something -”

“So it was better to lie? To let me believe lies about my life?”

“Yes! Wasn’t that easier? Would you rather have tried loving somebody who you barely knew anymore?” Your eyes were filling with tears, but you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep your voice steady. The tears spilled over. “You weren’t the same. I would not expect you to keep a promise that a different man made.”

He reared back, surprised. “I’m still Johnny.”

“Yes. But not exactly the same. I won’t expect you to love a person you don’t know.”

“I don’t know that you,” he snapped back. “But of course I love the one I have now.”

You flinched. “What?”

“I love you. I know that you don’t - I would never ask you to -” He trailed off, helpless, and reached over to wipe away one of your tears.

“Stop saying that,” you said. His hand froze, inches from your face. “You think you love me, because you think you’re supposed to. You don’t have to marry me now, Johnny. I’m seeing somebody else. All bets are off.”

He said nothing, so you walked home alone.

Johnny called you a few days later. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” you said. “For what, exactly?”

“The timing,” he sighed. You could picture him leaning against the wall by his phone, trying to rub weariness from his eyes. “You’re right - we’ve both changed. I wish you had told me, but nothing would have changed. I’m sorry for getting angry.”

“I’m sorry for hiding things,” you offered. You had been coiled like a spring for days, but you could feel the unwinding begin. “You were trying to find yourself, and I made that harder. I shouldn’t have.”

“So we’re good,” he announced. “Back to normal.”

“Alright.” You grinned. “You and me, good as new.”

“So we’ll keep going shopping together, right? One of the shop girls has been making eyes, but her breath smells like something died in there, and she never makes a move when you’re there.”

You agreed to meet with him later and hung up, feeling inexplicably relieved and unhappy. It wasn’t until later, when he was shaking a box of rice like a tambourine, that you realized that he had never said he didn’t love you. Whether that was the good feeling or the bad, you weren’t sure.

You let yourself into Johnny’s house with the key he kept under a loose brick. He had always kept it there, and you had always let yourself inside when you thought he needed you. That hadn’t happened since he came home, but you hadn’t seen him in a few days. It seemed necessary.

“Johnny? Is everything alright?” You walked through the kitchen, the living room, the hallway. You knocked on his bedroom door, but didn’t feel right going in without his permission. “Johnny?”

There was a creak by the basement door.

You crept closer, grabbing a glass that sat on a table. It was probably Johnny.

It might not be Johnny.

You nudged the door open with your foot, jumping back when Johnny lunged through the doorway. He held a drumstick like he had been prepared to stab you with it. When you thought about it, he probably had been.

“Johnny! Christ, it’s me!”

His eyes were wild while he looked at you, but he didn’t attack.

“Johnny? It’s Y/N.”

He blinked, and a little sense came back. “Y/N. What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t seen you for a few days. I thought I should check in.” After a quick one over - wrinkled pants, messy wife beater, purples smears of shadow under his eyes - “I think it was a good call.”

He looked down at himself and shrugged. When he looked back up to you, the weary lines under his eyes were deeper, but his eyes stayed bright. “There’s no need. I’ve been busy practicing the songs Donny wrote for the contest.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Sleep is for the dead,” he said cheerfully.

“You’ll be among them soon,” you shot back, “if you don’t eat and drink.”

He sighed, but it was fond. “I know, Mom.”

“I’m going to cook something,” you said with finality. “Go to your room.”

“Mom -”

“Young man,” you warned.” He laughed, and the smile was just right.

Johnny was already asleep when you brought a plate back to his room. You set the food on the bedside table for him to have when he woke up and turned to go, but paused to look at the room. In many ways, it was the same as it always had been. Pictures and awards everywhere; what was once a collage of memories was now a shrine to who he had been.

There was a small, grubby pile of letters on his desk. The edges were curled and dirt smudged the once clean paper, but the ink flowed as smoothly as it had on the day you wrote the contact information. You scanned the pile, and most of the letters were from you. Four years worth of letters, from a lover to a love long since lost.

You shouldn’t be looking at these things. They were none of your business.

The more you looked at the room, the more of yourself you found in it.

A picture of the two of you at your high school graduation.

A scarf that you gave him for Christmas years prior was draped across a chair.

By his bed, there was a pile of scrap paper and napkins. You told yourself that cleaning up after him would explain the snooping away. Of course you saw his room - you had been cleaning it. You grabbed the pile, but froze when you glanced down at them.

“Y/N is your neighbor across the street. Your friend. Can help you remember.”

“Y/N likes going on drives.”

“Invite Y/N to the next concert.”

Every scrap had facts about you in Johnny’s rough, spiky scrawl. He was trying to find you again; maybe this was a buildup of everything since he came home. It wasn’t enough, but it was close.

“That show,” you told Johnny, “was amazing. The greatest thing I’ve ever seen, really.” You and Matt had gone to watch the Donny Nova Band perform; it was one of the last shows before they’d have enough money to make the trip to NYC. Your cheeks were flushed from dancing, and a few strands of hair were plastered to the back of your neck. It had been incredible.

“Good enough for us to win in New York?” Johnny reached over to fix your hair. He could do it quickly, but he took his time.

“You could win any contest,” you promised. You glanced back toward the men’s room, checking to see if Matt was back yet. “Think you’ll stay in the city?”

“Dunno.” He looked surprised, like it hadn’t occurred to him. “Why would I?”

“You’d have more opportunities. A fresh start. Screaming fans.”

Johnny shrugged, lips quirking while he listened to some of his bandmates joyfully playing snippets of music for each other. “I like it here.”

He twirled you quickly, calloused fingers gentle in yours.

Matt materialized next to you, grinning. “Haven’t you danced enough tonight? I’m done in.”

“Glad you enjoyed yourself,” Johnny said. He smiled, but it had dimmed a little.

“You guys were great.” Matt turned to you. “Ready to go?”

“Sure. Go get my coat?”

When he left, you threw your arms around Johnny’s shoulders. His hand splayed across your ribcage, fitting into the same places they had for years. It had been ages since you had hugged him, but it was as though nothing had changed. “Good luck,” you whispered.

“I’ll be back,” he murmured back. “Didn’t I promise that? I’ll come back to you.”

And when I do, the past whispered, you know what I’m hoping for.

You held him until your boyfriend came back. When you got home, you broke up with Matt. You couldn’t explain it to your parents, and you could hardly explain it to yourself. Johnny was coming back to you, and you had to be ready for him, right?

“This place is incredible,” he told you over the phone. “The beds are huge.”

You laughed. “The beds? Really? You’re in the greatest city in the world, and all you have to talk about is the bed?”

“It’s hard to describe,” he admitted. He tried to paint it for you - bright lights, cars everywhere, crowds of people where you couldn’t blend in but couldn’t stand out. “You’ll have to come here. Maybe Matt can bring you someday,” he finished.

“I actually broke up with him.”

“What? When?”

“The night of your concert.” You absently messed with the phone cord, wrapping it around your finger until it went purple. “I realized that he wasn’t right for me. I was settling, you know.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, he wasn’t good enough. Not even close.” Then, clearing his throat, “we can talk more about that when I get home. We can go for a drive, maybe. I’ll be able to afford any car I want, you know.”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Yeah, I’m not settling anymore. I expect the best car.”

“Only the best for you.”

Johnny had parked in the driveway, and you suddenly felt five years younger.

“I feel like a queen,” you said, looking around the car he had been driving since he was seventeen.

“I may have spoken too soon,” he admitted.

“You? Have faulty timing? Impossible. That would be as strange as, say, forgetting you had a secret fiance,” you teased.

“That’s a spectacular transition,” he said. He grinned. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself. Y/N, about the secret engagement.”

“Yes?”

“I think we should give that another shot.”

“It went really well last time,” you commented.

“Last time, I was leaving for something dangerous. This time, it’s as safe as life,” he said.

“You’re leaving again?”

“On tour,” he said. “I was thinking that we could write while I’m gone, and when iI get back -”

“You want to talk to my father?” You grinned at your lap. “Real original, Johnny.”

“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” he said.

“Write me,” you said, “and we’ll talk.”

You reached over the space between the seats, turned his slim face to face you, and kissed him. It was as good a way to seal the deal as any.

#bandstand #johnny simpson #johnny simpson x reader #Ally writes

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hamilton-one-shots · 6 years

Text

Hamilton Omegaverse 2

Mr Jefferson

Good afternoon. I'm writing you to let you know that you've been chosen as this month's interviewee for the Revolutionary Post and I'm going to be the one to conduct your interview. If you're interested, I was hoping we could schedule a time and place for this week.

John Laurens

He sighed and began sketching for a few minutes before hearing his computer bing with a response.

Mr Laurens

Thank you for telling me this, this is a great honor for me. If you're free, perhaps we could meet at my home office this weekend? If not, I'm open most of the time. Whatever is most convenient for you is fine with me.

Thomas Jefferson

Well, that was good.

Mr Jefferson

For personal reasons, I would prefer meeting in a more public setting. If this cafe works for you, I could meet with you Saturday at around noon.

John Laurens

He attached a hyperlink to the word cafe and sent the email, getting a response, once again, within a few minutes.

Perfect. I'll see you Saturday at noon.

Thomas Jefferson

John smiled to himself and added the date to his calendar, pondering over how the details would play out.

Alexander knocked on the door a few minutes later and poked his head in. "Hey, I was just wondering how you were doing. Have you emailed the devil yet?"

John chuckled. "Yeah, I emailed him. But why do you hate him so much? He doesn't seem too bad."

Alexander groaned. "Can I come in? Washington hates it when I begin ranting in the hallway."

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged and watched as Alexander walked in and shut the door behind himself.

"Jefferson is such an entitled piece of shit and he runs this blog, acting like some hero who saves people, as if anyone actually reads that crap. You could get the same information off of Pinterest."

John chuckled. "You clearly haven't read anything recently. He's apologized for past entitled behaviors and helps people with their personal financial issues. I actually used his blog to help me get this job and every part time job I could get in high school."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would you need so many part time jobs?"

"Partly because people fired me as soon as I had my first heat, partly because my dad didn't want to pay for suppressants, partly for a few other reason that aren't really your business."

"Yeah, that's fair." He nodded and sat down across from him. "So, you're really going through with this?.."

"Yep. And I'm getting a bonus for it, so thank you." He smiled.

"Geez, I should give you all of my work in that case," Alexander said, jokingly.

John shrugged.

"So, when are you doing this?"

"Saturday, noon. We're meeting at this cafe, somewhere that all dynamics mix in."

"You know he's going to know you're an omega, right?"

"So? It's not like I'm trying to hide it. I just don't feel comfortable surrounded by alphas and I don't want to make him uncomfortable by surrounding him with other omegas. Or, you know, make the other omegas uncomfortable."

Alexander nodded. "That's fair. I hope you have fun."

"I just hope this doesn't all go to shit."

And it was all that John was worrying over for the next few days, hoping and praying that his first big project would go well. His cartoons were pretty popular so far, but this was actually writing something. It was something that he wanted to explore at some point with that company, but he wasn't expecting an opportunity so soon.

So, when it came to the actual day of the interview, he woke up early in the morning and took a shower, putting on a scent blocker for the first time in a while. He was far from ashamed of his omega status, but he wasn't sure that this Thomas Jefferson would be so cool about it and didn't want such a small detail to derail the interview. He got dressed in a button up shirt and dark jeans, pulling his hair back into a ponytail before going outside, waiting for his Uber.

When it arrived, he got in and went to the cafe, finding that Thomas hadn't arrived quite yet. Well, it made sense. He was a few minutes early. That didn't stop him from being nervous... He just ordered a coffee and a sandwich and waited, waving as Thomas Jefferson walked in.

"John Laurens?" he asked as he walked over.

John stood up and shook his hand, nodding. "That would be me, yes."

"It's nice to meet you." He smiled and sat down with him.

"I hope you don't mind, I already ordered for myself."

"It's no problem. I'll go get my own food, then we can get started."

"Sounds like a plan." He smiled and pulled out his laptop, getting the questions ready and taking a few bites of his sandwich as he waited.

"Thank you for waiting. Alright, I'm ready when you are."

John smiled and began asking his questions, one by one, noting down every word of his response, wanting to make sure he got a thorough interview. The way he saw it, if he had too much detail, he could cut it out more easily than he could add to an interview that he took too few notes on.

"You're really getting every detail in there, aren't you?" Thomas commented with a slight chuckle. "Not that I mind, but this is your first interview, isn't it?"

John chuckled awkwardly. "Is it that obvious?.. I'm a cartoonist, but the guy who was assigned to this... he's not a fan of you."

"Really? Let me guess, was it Alexander Hamilton? I've been getting hate comments from him for the longest."

"Yeah, him. I bet he's going to love the fact that you know his name."

He shrugged. "I don't mind his hate. It's not like he's the only one that sends me that stuff, but he does seem like the most relentless."

"He seems like the type, yeah." He smiled.

Thomas nodded. "So, was there anything else you needed to ask?"

He glanced down at his list, shocked to find that they were all filled in. It seemed like it had only been a few minutes. "No. We're done here."

"Great." He smiled and stood up. "I'll be looking forward to reading what you write about me."

"There's nothing you wanted me to cut out, right?"

"Nope. Your questions weren't too personal, but not too formal. I liked it." He smiled again before walking out.

John grinned, proud of his work, before walking out of the cafe and getting his ride back to his apartment, spending the rest of the weekend writing his piece. Truth be told, he didn't really hang out with anyone. He didn't fit in with really anyone. All of his omega friends were still living with their parents, trying to go out and find their true mates, and his beta and alpha friends were in college, angry at the fact that he got a job without doing the same, as if he didn't try to get into college. So, he kind of just spent his time alone with his pets, a cat and a dog, respectively named Turtle and Palomino for their fur colors. His cat, Turtle, was white with a round patch of black on his back, stomach, and the top of his head, and Palomino was a golden retriever mix with lighter blond hair on his tail, legs, his head, and down his neck. They were both adorable and young. John planned on adopting one pet, but the two fell in love with him and he fell in love with them and he ended up getting two pets. They were his best and only friends and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. That Monday morning, he emailed his interview to Washington, who forwarded it to Alexander to edit and look over.

Jooooohhhhnnn

You need to become a writer! You made this guy seem almost human!

Alexander

John laughed at that and got up, going over to his office. Unfortunately, since he didn't have as many ongoing projects as John did, he worked in a more public space with other alphas there, staring him down. He just ignored them and leaned against Alexander's desk. "You really thought it was that good of a piece?"

"I think you were great. You should try to write something else for Washington. I sent him the final thing and asked him to read it over and he said you 'exceeded expectations'."

John nodded. "Nice. I'll talk to him about it later this week."

"You'd better. You just started working here and he's already complimenting your work. You deserve to move on up."

An alpha sitting across Alexander's space scoffed quietly. Alexander couldn't quite hear it, but it was loud and clear to John, who'd gone his entire life hearing the same thing.

"I'll do it."

And he did. That Friday, their issue with John's interview in it went out and sold well, not anymore because of John's interview in particular, but there were good reviews left on the online article. So, John worked up enough mental strength and walked into Washington's office, knocking on the door. "Sir? May I speak to you for a minute?"

"Yes, of course. Just shut the door behind you."

John did just that before making his way across the room and sitting in front of his boss. "I was just thinking... About the article I wrote.. I know it was a simple one, but I was hoping you'd let me write more. Something else."

"But you're a cartoonist full time already. I wouldn't want it to interfere with your work."

"It won't. I can finish cartoons quicker than you probably imagine. I can do my regular work along with this. I don't need extra pay. I can do it for what I'm earning now."

Washington nodded a bit and studied John, seeming to be thinking it over before he made a decision. "Alright. I believe I have a solution to this problem. I will give you some assignments and a deadline. This will be for a month. At the end of the month, we'll discuss this again."

He smiled widely. "Thank you! I promise you won't regret this."

"We'll see," he said, though his expression showed that he actually had faith in the omega. "You can go. I'll send you the assignments."

John nodded and got up, making his way out of the office and back to his own. Now, in the breaks between cartoons where he normally found himself doodling or checking his apartment camera to make sure his buddies were okay, John was writing. He poured his hardest work and his best writing into every article, sending them to Alexander for approval each time. They weren't perfect, of course, John was not a writer by trade, but they were something. That Friday, he found himself working past hours without even realizing it until Alexander poked his head in.

"John, our shift ended almost an hour ago."

"What?.." He glanced over at the time. Oh, crap, Alexander was right! "I have to get home!" He jumped to his feet and got his things together, shoving them into his bag before beginning to run out of the office, stopped by the alpha.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry, I have a dog and a cat and I have to get home and feed them. I just need to call a cab."

"Nonsense. I'll drive you home, if that's alright with you."

John would've been lying if he said he wasn't unsure about the idea at first, but... Well, he supposed he was close enough to Alexander to call him his friend, wasn't he? He could trust him enough to give him a ride. Besides, it was an omega only apartment. If Alexander tried anything, there was a beta guarding the door who he could call for help. "That would be great, thank you."

Alexander smiled and lead John to the parking garage, showing him to his car. It was no luxury model, but it was a nice car.

John got in and put on his seat belt, holding his bag in his lap and trying to ignore how confined it felt with the strong, alpha scent surrounding him as much as it was.

As they began driving out of the garage, Alexander turned to ask John where he lived and noticed his posture, how tightly wound and defensive he looked. He frowned at that and rolled down the windows, letting the scent of the crisp, fresh, autumn air replace his inky scent. Once John began to visibly relax, he smiled and turned back to the road. "So, where do you live?"

"It's this omega only apartment. It's, like, a five minute drive."

"Alright." He followed John's directions and took him straight to his apartment building, dropping him off in front of the doors. "I'll see you Monday!"

"I'll see you then." John smiled and waved at his friend as he left. Friend.. He loved his pets, but it was nice to have a human friend. He chuckled and went inside, feeding his furry friends before making himself some dinner, just heating up some leftovers, and getting back on his laptop, switching between working and watching Netflix.

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #john laurens #thomas jefferson #george washington #omegaverse #2 #chapter 2

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nitroidwrites · 6 years

Text

When A Gentleman

...wears a suit.

Part 1 of the When A Gentleman series.

Summary: In the middle of a train station at West Kanagawa, Kise forgets how to breathe when he catches sight of Aomine in a suit.

Playing around with aokise / high school senior setting / reconnecting

“Hey, handsome.” Aomine smirked, releasing his arm.

He looked different.

Also, he was in a suit.

A very nice suit.

“Take care!”

“We’ll text you the new photobook link!”

“See you!” Kise called back as the doors to the studio came to a close behind him, the voices of his colleagues fading.

As he looked up, the sky seemed a little gloomy with the promise of rain. Checking his watch, Kise realized he was going to be late for basketball practice if he didn’t make a run for the station right that instant. His new ankle boots weren’t exactly made for running through the city, but he could handle himself just fine.

This was his last year in Kaijo High. Finals were around the corner, and so was summer. He could think of a large number of places he wanted to go to for vacation - namely, Kanagawa’s beach, which he’d become very familiar with over the past couple of years - but this last year was important. Kise knew he had to choose between entering university - which meant more exams - and taking a more serious role with his modeling career, something he vaguely enjoyed doing now that he had grown more accustomed to what the job entailed.

“--in the next week, but I’ll catch up with you soon--”

“--can’t believe he said that, I just--”

“--not today but we’ll probably arrange that on another day--”

“--same, I know, it’s absolutely terrifying--”

Voices drifted past him as Kise caught slices and mini-chunks of conversation, moving as quickly as he could through the late afternoon crowd that had just exited the West exit of Kanagawa station. People were either rushing, just like him, or taking their sweet time to move through the lanes and bleed into the shopping district.

Young school kids in groups, cellphones out, talking loudly, adults laughing in mid-conversation as they brushed past them, college kids carrying some takeaway lattes for afternoon classes, salarymen on cellphones, murmuring their responses to clients - Kise entered the fast-moving crowd with practiced ease. He pressed the card on his palm against the ticket sensor, and the machine allowed him access to the rest of the station.

Swerving past a couple of women in matching dresses, he absently returned their shy adoring smiles with an automatic one of his own. They burst into an excited flurry of whispers as he walked by, headed straight for the stairs. Kise’s long legs allowed him to take the steps by three at a time.

“Unf.” Kise’s shoulder collided with someone, and a hand on his arm helped compose him. “Ah, thanks. And sorry-”

He trailed off, making eye contact with dark blue eyes and a smug, bad boy smirk.

“A-Aomine!” Kise felt his heartbeat quicken and told himself that it was just the after-effects of having a brisk walk.

He hadn’t seen the Touou ace since their last Winter Cup (in which Seirin had won again), and with school, growing up, breaking up with a college girl, and side jobs, Kise realized he hadn’t seen much of anyone, lately.

“Hey, handsome.” Aomine smirked, releasing his arm.

He looked different.

A little taller, shoulders broader, and he’d definitely bulked up significantly. Aomine’s voice had always been deep since he’d hit puberty, but his voice had a sort of grown-up feel about it now.

Also, he was in a suit.

A very nice suit.

Kise felt his breath hitch and completely leave his body as soon as his eyes traveled involuntarily down Aomine’s muscular frame. The handsome Touou ace was dressed in a form-fitting, deep navy blazer with matching slacks, paired with a pair of shiny black oxfords. Kise felt his mouth hit the floor.

“Heh.” Aomine caught his stare and grinned, a little shy, a little smug. “Like what you see?”

Yes, Kise wanted to scream, but his mouth wasn’t connecting to his brain, and there seemed to be a distinct lack of air in the station. Maybe he was coming down with something. It had to be the weather or from anticipating the upcoming finals, or that chicken sandwich he had on the way to the studio.

“--on my way to my uncle’s wedding.” Aomine was saying, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on the balls of his feet. “I haven’t seen my uncle since I was six. Dad was saying he’s glad he finally found someone to settle down with, so it’s cool. Guess she’s pretty. I haven’t met her yet.”

You’re pretty, Kise wanted to say, but held his tongue and settled for a polite smile and nod.

Aomine’s hair was combed back in a nice style that suited his sharp face, and nicely showed off the defined angles of his jaw. He looked flushed, and happy. Somehow, the way he carried himself in that moment showed Kise a little of his excitement and a vague sort of modeling potential.

He was cute.

“Is it going to be held in Kanagawa, or are you just passing through?” Kise asked politely, remembering his manners.

“Right over at Hokoku-ji in Kamakura.” Aomine’s lopsided grin was infectious, and rare. “I’m just here to pick up some gifts.”

“The one with the gorgeous bamboo forest?” Kise smiled. “That’s an awesome place to tie the knot.”

“Yeah.” Aomine bit his lower lip and shrugged. “It’s getting warm, but I kinda wanna keep my jacket on.”

Kise tilted his head and studied Aomine openly, trying to ingrain the memory of his ex-Teiko schoolmate into his mind.

“You look really good.” Kise admitted smoothly. “I’m jealous. You’re like an adult right now.”

Aomine’s cheeks flushed, ever so slightly, but it made Kise flush a little, too. The station was warm.

“Thanks, it’s like an honor, coming from you.” Aomine settled for a teasing tone. “Model-kun.”

With a shy laugh, Kise reached for his shoulders, brushing away imaginary dust, but mainly just to feel his toned deltoids beneath that smooth expanse of jacket.

“May I?” He asked, and received a nod from Aomine, who looked a little awkward as he came closer.

The blond’s hands deftly re-adjusted Aomine’s loosely made tie, gently righting it in place before tugging gently at his collar to get his tie up to the groove between his collarbone and throat. Aomine swallowed and looked away. He seemed a little nervous, but that was okay. Maybe this was his first wedding reception.

“So manly.” Kise finished with a gentle pat on Aomine’s left pectoral, which felt hard and toned. “There you go, handsome.”

Aomine looked around the station, probably hinting that he needed to go.

Kise nodded and stepped back. “Okay, all good. Uh, enjoy yourself, okay? It’s going to be great. And remember to smile.”

“Yeah.” Aomine’s gaze collided with his, and a small smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Hey, Kise?”

The Kaijo high school senior shot him a quizzical look.

“Can I maybe…” Aomine ran a hand through his hair. “...get your number?”

They hadn’t really been in contact since their first year, and that had been mainly about basketball tournaments and the like. Between school and practice and juggling the thought of growing up and entering university, they didn’t quite have time for renewing connections like this. Kise knew he shouldn’t be feeling awkwardly happy, but the blush that spread across his cheeks to his neck gave him away.

“Sure.” He digs out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “Touch contact?”

Aomine’s fingers brush against Kise’s fingertips as their slide the backs of their smartphones together. Kise tries hard not to notice. Their phones light up with a gentle beep, and the faces of both high school seniors appear on their respective screens.

“Thanks.” Aomine’s smile sends tendrils of happiness around Kise’s heart. “Hey, um, I’ll text you.”

Kise nods and gets distracted by the train whooshing in from the neighboring station. “This is me.”

“See you!” Aomine calls as he makes a dash for the train’s nearest door.

Three stations away from Kaijo High, Kise’s phone trills a familiar chime, and the teenager flips out his phone to check his notifications.

One on one sometime?

Aomine has never made use of emoji, and Kise has outgrown them. But his heart leaps as he receives a follow-up - a bouncy basketball with a dark-haired player from a famous sports anime.

I might win. You ok with that?

Sending off his reply with a smile, Kise leans against the transparent glass at the side of a row of seats. Through the glass of the doors, he notices a group of college girls eying him from across the interior of the public train. One of them says something and the rest giggle. Their looks tell him that they wouldn’t mind if he strolled over and struck up a conversation.

On a regular day, Kise might have actually tossed them a smile, but today was different. His mind was filled with a certain Touou high school senior.

We’ll see.

He couldn’t wait.

#aokise #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #high school seniors #knb #kuroko no basuke #fanfiction #series

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stevesharrlngtons · 7 years

Text

hey.

steve harrington x reader

summary: he was such a staple piece in your life, that as a child and young teen, you never saw your life without him. late night promises and pinky swears were made in blanket forts that you two would be friends until the day the sun burned out in the sky. it was just a given that’d he be there, that you never worried about the two of you drifting apart or being separated. he promised he’d always be there, and you had believed him. you now corrected yourself, foolishly believed him.

word count: 3.4k

chapter: i / ii / iv / v / vi / vii / viii

chapter iii

You thanked the universe it was Saturday. This not only meant you had today and tomorrow to recover from the night before, but your mom always went out on Friday nights and slept most of Saturdays away. It wasn’t that you were afraid of getting in trouble, you just didn’t want the interrogation she would give you if she saw you walking in with a boy’s clothes on and your own clothes, wet, in your arms. To your dismay, the second you walked through the door, your mother was sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette and her morning coffee.

“Look who’s back early.” Your mother in a cheerfully knowing voice.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Ha ha.” She spoke and rolled her eyes.

You went to the table and joined her.

“Coffee?” She asked as she slide her pack of cigarettes towards you.

“Hot chocolate. I’m not planning on staying awake much longer.” You replied and lit yourself a cigarette, throwing your wet clothes on the chair next to you.

Your mother smiled and nodded, getting up to make your drink.

You and your mother had a different relationship. When your father and she had split (after she had found him wrapped in the throws of passion with his assistant in their marital bed) she had kind of fallen apart for a while. All of her friends had forsaken her for being a divorcee, including Steve’s parents, you were all she had left. You took care of her while she had depressive episodes and you were the one who cooked, cleaned and took care of everything for most of your freshman year. After that, your mom got her life back. Got a better job, and started to look like herself again. But after all of that, things never went back to a traditional mother-daughter relationship. It became like two old ladies living under the same roof. She still parented you on occasion, but really, you stayed out of trouble, did well in school and never gave her a reason to really discipline you. So, the dynamic never changed. You liked it this way. It was easy, you both came and went and supported each other. You both were a little broken, but it was okay. You loved each other and that’s all that mattered.

“Here.” Your mother placed the mug of hot chocolate in front of you.

“Thanks.” You smiled and took a small sip of the hot liquid.

“So, can I ask why you’re carrying a pile of wet clothes and wearing some that definitely aren’t yours?” She quirked an eyebrow at you while sliding the ash tray so it would be close enough for the both of you to use it.

“If you must.” You sighed, ashing your cigarette.

“So…?”

“I went to a party, where I happen to run into Steve,”

“Harrington?” She asked engaged.

“Yes, Harrington,” You continued, “Him and Nancy broke up and I don’t know, I guess old feelings die hard, so I went back to his place and we talked. Swam, fell asleep. Don’t worry no funny business, scouts honor.” You put your pointer and middle finger to your temple in a faux solute.

“Did he drive you home?”

“No. I walked.”

“What?!” She exclaimed and placed her cup down.

“Sweetheart, you could have caught your death out there! You could have called me.”

“Eh, didn’t want to bother you.” You shrugged.

She gave you a You-Know-You-Could-Never-Bother-Me- look and you smiled back.

“You should have made him drive you home, (Y/N).”

“I left before he woke up.” You fiddled with the lip of your mug.

“Why?” Your mother asked.

“Freaked out I guess. It was weird being there.”

“Did he apologize for being such an asshole- sorry, jerk to you for so long?”

You laughed at your mom’s correction, “Yeah, kinda. He probably didn’t mean it. Who cares if he did, y’know? Everything will be the same Monday.”

Your mother saw the slight disappointment on your face.

She placed her hand over yours in comfort, “Don’t be so sure. Sometimes people surprise us.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You offered a small smile.

Then the two of you made small talk while you finished your drinks.

“I’m going to lay down. I’m exhausted.” You told your mother while you placed your mug in the sink.

“Okay,”

“Oh!” She said remembering, “Jonathan called last night, wanted to make sure you got home alright. I told him you were here and safe.”

“What if I had been kidnapped mother! Weren’t you worried in the slightest?” You said dramatically, feigning hurt.

“Eh, they would have brought you back to me, I wasn’t worried.” She smiled and shrugged.

You squinted and shook your head with a smile, “Love you too, mother.”

“Love you more!”

After you had woken up from your early morning nap, it was noon and there was a small note folded next to you.

Had to step out, while you were asleep Steve Harrington called. I swear I just told him you were asleep and not to pound sand like I wanted too.

Xoxo,

Mom

You sighed. You were really hoping Steve wouldn’t have called. You hoped he would have woken up too hungover to even remember if you were there the night before or not. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. You made your way down stairs to get some coffee and a muffin while debating whether to call him back or not. You hopped up to sit on the counter to eat your breakfast and picked up the phone that rested on the wall. The long sparling chord brushed your left shin. You stared to dial Steve’s number and a wave of panic hit you again, so you hung up the phone and dialed the Byers’ home instead. They rarely ever answered it since the incidents with Will last year, but every once and a while, Bob, Joyce’s new boyfriend, would be there and answer it out of habit. Today was one of those days.

“Hello, hello?” Bob’s cheerful voice rang through the phone.

“Hi Bob, It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“Well good afternoon! How may I direct your call, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

“To Jonathan Byers’ office, please.” You said smiling and playing along.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Byers’ is out at the moment can I take a message?”

“Nah, that’s fine. Just tell him I called?” You asked, a little disappointed Jonathan wasn’t home.

“Of course!” He said.

“Thanks Bob, tell Joyce hi for me, will ya?”

“Always do,” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks, have a great day.”

And with that both lines were hung up.

You were a little miffed that Jonathan wasn’t home. You wondered if he could have been the one to pick up the pieces of a newly single Nancy Wheeler. But Jonathan was respectful and a gentleman, he’d never try to start their relationship this soon after things had ended so rocky with Steve.

You leaned you head against the wall next to the phone and ate your muffin and drank your coffee in silence. You just let your mind go blank as you continued your mundane activity. That’s why when the phone rang again, you almost fell from the counter.

“Hello?”

“You seriously just left? Really?” It was Steve.

Fuck.

“Sorry, I didn’t feel well and didn’t want to wake you.”

“Bullshit, (Y/N), try again.” His voice was stern.

“Honest! I was just hungover and knew a cold walk would remedy it.”

“Are you fine now then?”

“For the most part.”

“Good, I’m coming to get you.”

“What?” You almost choked on your salvia.

“Yeah, so get dressed.” The line went dead.

You sat on the counter, a little stunned. The last thing you wanted to do was spend the day with Steve, especially after your internal conflict of ‘I love him, I love him not’ you had done on your way home this morning.

But, you found yourself upstairs, hastily wiping away last night’s make up to reapply a fresh layer. You opted for a ponytail for your hair, since you hadn’t had a chance to take a shower and had no clue how close Steve really was to being at your house. After a quick outfit change you smoothed your sweater and looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost changed, but as the thought crossed your mind the doorbell rang.

You walked down the stairs so slow Steve rang the bell again and you sighed. When you opened your front door, there stood Steve Harrington in all of his glory. You cursed yourself at the slight flutter your stomach gave when you first saw him.

“Finally. Now let’s go.” He grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his car.

“Where to, exactly?”

“You’ll see.”

You sat in the front seat of Steve’s car in front of the Dairy Freeze. You had a vanilla shake in your hands and he had a strawberry one, and you both were waiting for your food.

“I forgot how good these shakes are.” Steve said smiling down at his cup.

“Yeah, but know shakes are better when it’s not twenty degrees out.” You said back. It wasn’t supposed to come out as a jab at him, but it had.

“Whatever…” He trailed off.

“Sorry…”

Silence fell over the car again.

“You know,” Steve started, “I like thinking that when we took my dad’s car we parked in this same spot and ate the same things. You have always been a vanilla shake with a chicken sandwich and I’ve always been a strawberry shake and a cheeseburger.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, liking that he remembered your order.

“I’ve been on a date or two here that ended not so good, so this place just doesn’t taste as good as it did when I was a kid.” You sucked at the straw of your shake.

“With who?” Steve’s voice hardened, but you didn’t notice.

“Scott Thompson in the tenth grade then last year with some college guy named Derek, you wouldn’t know him.”

“Scott Thompson? That fucking guy? What did you ever see in him?” Steve was trying to play off his interest as fun banter, but he was secretly making plans to shoulder Thompson extra hard in their next basketball scrimmage.

“I don’t know! He was nice to me. He told me he’d pay for everything but forgot his wallet so I paid. I didn’t care but it was annoying how he kept bringing up that he forgot his wallet. He also put his arm around me and like so awkwardly touched my boob that I told him I had to leave and called my mom from a payphone to pick me up.” You laughed thinking back on it now, it had been mortifying at the time, but now it was a good story.

“And the college guy?” Steve asked a little too quickly.

“I met him here actually. With Jonathan. We were hanging out in his car here and I went in to get more ranch and bumped into him. We exchange numbers went out a few times, but I don’t know he gave me the creeps after our third date so I never called him again. So, I don’t know, I guess because I met him here, this place gives me residual creeps.”

“Did he hurt you?” Steve asked lowly, gripping his drink tightly.

“No! Nothing like that, he was just weird, like he would do and say weird shit that made me feel, well weird.” You chuckled at your lack of vocabulary.

“Well I’m glad you aren’t seeing him anymore if he made you feel like that.” Steve stated.

“Thanks?”

Then the silence was back. The waitress brought you your food so now you both just ate your food and looked around at passing cars and people going in and out of the restaurant. After you were halfway done with your sandwich you placed it aside and asked what you had been wondering since the night before.

“Why me? I mean, why did you call me today? Why not one of your friends?”

“You are my friend.”

“Steve…” You pressed.

“Who could I call, (Y/N)? Tommy? Carol? Oh yeah, they are great people, really want them to console me and make me feel better.” Steve said frustrated as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Aren’t they your friends though?” You asked, honestly wondering.

“Yeah, but I don’t know, not really.” Steve said.

“After I got together with Nancy, I started to see that all those guys, they suck. They’re mean and just assholes. So, I just started to distance myself from them and spend all my time with Nancy.”

“Okay, I get it,” You spoke turning away from Steve, “Now that Nancy’s gone you need someone to fill her shoes.”

“No! (Y/N)! That’s not what I meant, fuck!” Steve said anxiously.

“I can just never say the right thing, can I?” He chuckled sadly to himself.

“You do have a tendency to put your foot in your mouth.”

“Yeah I guess I do.”

Steve meant well, you were sure of it. But you didn’t want to be his consolation prize for losing Nancy. That wasn’t fair to you, not at all.

“Okay, well listen. I’m not going to put my shoe in my mouth-“

“Foot.” You corrected and you saw him smile.

“Okay, yeah. Foot. I’m not going to put my foot in my mouth this time when I say: I really missed you, (Y/N). Like a lot. Last night just reminded me. And right now, I don’t want anyone but you. I’m sad and lost and the only person I want to spend time with is you, okay?” Steve said this with such conviction that your breath caught in your throat.

“Okay.” You whispered.

After the Dairy Freeze, the two of you went back to Steve’s house. You offered to go to yours so he could get his clothes but you told you to keep them. This made you smile just a little but too big. At his house again, you both settled on the couch and flipped channels. Once you saw Audrey Hepburn’s face flash across the screen you yelled.

“Back! Go back!” Steve did so.

“Breakfast at Tiffaney’s? Really?” Steve groaned.

“You know I love this movie.” You said settling back into the couch happily.

“Yeah, but I know I’ve seen this with you at least fifteen times, so God knows how many times you’ve seen it.”

“Classics never get old, Harrington.”

To your pleasure and Steve’s dismay, it was the beginning of the movie. Steve really had seen the movie with you a million times when you were children. Your mother had always wanted you to be a well rounded child, so she had shown you many old movies when you were growing up. Some were better than others, you were still unsure why your mother had had you sit through both Easerhead and Un Chien Andalou in one sitting at the tender age of eleven. Thankfully Steve hadn’t been around for that movie night.

But out of all the old movies you’d seen, you’d always had a soft spot for Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was the movie you watched whenever you were sick or had an exceptionally tiring day. Steve knew this, and even if this was supposed to be a day of making him feel better, he was fine with you getting the movie choice. Watching you recite lines and add your own commentary was cheering him up.

“We’re friends after all,” Holly said on the TV, “We are friends, aren’t we?”

Without thinking you repeated these lines, and the air became heavy with insinuation.

“Let’s not say another word, let’s just go to sleep.” You muttered in tune with the TV.

“That’s us.”

You looked at Steve with a cocked eyebrow.

“We’re friends, drinking, smoking cigarettes and sleeping next to each other. After all this time we are Holly and Paul.” Steve gestured to the television.

You opened your mouth to reminded him that Holly and Paul fell in love, but you kept it to yourself. Hoping that he forgot that part of the movie or didn’t mean you were like Holly and Paul in that way.

You settled for, “Yeah, I guess we are.”

As the movie drew to a close the sun began to set. You had been so engrossed in it that you hadn’t noticed that Steve had fallen asleep. His mouth open slightly and his forearm over his eyes.

“Holly, I’m in love with you,” Paul spoke.

“So what?” You mouthed along with Holly.

“So what? So plenty. I love you, you belong to me!”

“No,” You and Audrey Hepburn both began, “People don’t belong to people.”

As the scene continued, it began to hit you in a way this movie had never done before.

“You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

Tears filled your eyes as you watched Holly desperately search for her cat while Paul watches, you held your breath.

Moon River filled your ears and as Holly and Paul fall into a passionate, exhausted kiss, and you cried. For the first time since you had first seen the movie, you cried. You did so quietly as to not wake Steve, but as the credits ran in, you felt horrible.

Something about Paul’s speech and the emotional coming together of the two leads was too much to bare. It felt too poignant to your situation. You and Steve were Holly and Paul. But you weren’t in love. Things were different now and you weren’t friends let alone in love. Even if you were in love with him, which the jury of your heart was still out on, he didn’t love you. Not like that, never like that. And love was never real love if it was reciprocated. And you knew it was selfish, but you don’t think you could watch him run back to Nancy on Monday. It was inevitable. They were the two in love. People do fall in love and people do belong to each other, but to your tearful dismay, Steve didn’t belong to you, he never would. But you thought if running back into the arms of Nancy Wheeler and belonging to her again was Steve’s chance at happiness, you wanted him to take it.

You felt embarrassed and overdramatic. Here you were crying over a movie next to a boy you hadn’t really talked to in the last four years. You were crying on this boy’s couch about him while he slept. This thought was mortifying and you hated yourself for this whole scene. Why you had suddenly become so emotional over Steve Harrington was a mystery to you.

“(Y/N)? Are you crying?” Steve asked concerned, sleep still lacing his voice.

You began to quickly wipe away your tears, “Yeah. This movie is sad, that’s all.”

“But Holly realizes she loves Paul. How is that sad?” Steve asked moving towards you.

He had remembered the end of the movie.

“Yeah, well I guess I just still get emotional about it.”

Steve nodded, and pulled you into a hug. You were in no way in any shape to refuse him. You just fell into his arms and let him comfort you for a while. It was like this morning when he had held you so tight. It was calm and safe and warm. You had became so relaxed that you didn’t notice when Steve laid back down to the couch, taking you with him. You settled on his chest, face in his neck and hands under his arm pits. And that was how you fell asleep with Steve Harrington for the second time in the same day.

#im posting early bc why not happy nye!#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington headcannon #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington slow burn #stranger things imagine

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givemesomeseoul · 6 years

Text

Wonho Route Part 2

Today was the day you had a study maybe or maybe not date with Wonho. The night before you called your girlfriends Hani, HyunA, and LE over for advice and they ended up spending the night. Since HyunA owns a hair and makeup salon she offered to style you while Hani being model offered to dress you. LE just supervised and gave tips on how not to seem desperate (which was surprisingly helpful since you were kind of head over heels for the guy). They left around nine since they are professional women with lives but, you were grateful for their help. Even though this was just supposed to be a study date you felt confident in your (as HyunA put it) “allure”.

You weren’t expecting much but you were still excited. You didn’t want to be late but also not too early so you left at eleven forty. As you walked to the design studio the calming breeze, clear blue sky, and sunshine made your heart feel light. You were wearing a sky blue short A-line dress with white flowers on it and a pair of white platform sneakers with silver ribbon laces and felt like nothing could be better. Then you saw...him. He was wearing a white button-down shirt half tucked into a pair of tight blue slightly ripped jeans with sleek sneakers and sexy square black shades. Seeing him like that in the sunshine made you want to run away and cry and as you took a step back he saw you.

“Oh! What are you doing all the way over there?” His smile was blinding and you couldn’t find any words. “You look great!” Your eyes were wide as you struggled to speak.

“Th-thank you. You look great too.” He laughed awkwardly and reached his arm back to tossel his hair.

His arms are huge! How often does he work out my goodness! You were trying not stare but you’ve never seen someone who looked so strong yet so soft before. “Ready to go? We can take my car.” He gestured to a black Porsche SUV parked on the street and you gasped. “What? Are you surprised?”

“N-No…” Yes! “It’s just a very nice car for a broke college kid.” You awkwardly chuckled.

“Thanks. I got it as a graduation present from my grandfather for helping our cafe.” I looked at him a little puzzled.

Does he mean helping by bringing his “dates” there?! Your blood began to boil and before you could speak he continued.

“Don’t laugh but I had an Instagram by the name of Shin Ho-Seok where I used my ulzzang following to promote and bring people into our cafe and made it an ulzzang Instagrammers paradise. It worked really well so my family set aside some of the extra money to buy me this.”

He’s hot so I could see that. “Wow, that’s so cool!” You were genuinely excited which made him blush a little.

“Aw, thanks. Well, shall we get going?” He gestured to his car as he let you go first. He then lightly jogged to open the door for you starling you. You spoke softly and delicately.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that it’s fi-”

“My mom always told me to open the door for a pretty girl.” He smiled at you before he closed the door and went around to the other side making your heart explode.

OH MY GOSH, HE DID NOT JUST! I THINK I’M GONNA DIE! You thought to yourself but all you could say was nothing. You stared straight ahead as the driver side door slammed shut. “Ready to go?” He smiled at you as he buckled his seatbelt. “Buckle up. I would do it for you but I don’t wanna make you too uncomfortable.”

It’s a little late for that SIR. All you did was smile a little and chuckle nervously.

“Don’t worry I can at least do this.” He turned on the engine and off you were. The ride was smooth and quiet but you swear all you could hear was your heart. After a while, Wonho broke the silence with a shy tone.

“You know, I really liked your designs yesterday.” You looked at him with a blank yet surprised expression.

“You did? I only drew a skirt.” He laughed a little shaking his head.

“Yea but, you had a whole thing you planned in your mind. Down to fabrics, patterns, cuts, shoes. You have a real eye for detail and I like that.” He blushed and smiled sweetly as he watched the road. You could tell he would look at you but understandably keeping his eyes on the road was more important.

“Wow um...thank you. I didn’t really think I did…” You two continued to have a stimulating conversation about your project, designs, and aesthetic until you pulled into a parking lot of a quaint wooden building with a white light up sign reading “SoLaTea Cafe” surrounded by lush green with sleek skyscrapers blending seamlessly into the distance. You were surprised because you have actually heard of this place. It was on your list of places to go since it was always on your Instagram due to idols, ulzzangs, and other internet influencers you followed.

Of course. You thought. A guy as chic and cool as him would be the son of the owner. You still felt super special that the first time you went was with you know...HIM, the sexy as all hell son of the owners.

“We’re here.” He unbuckled your seatbelt and then his. “One second.” He got out and opened the door for you. “Don’t be flustered. I want to treat you well since I asked you out.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Thank you for being so polite.” You kindly smiled at him as you slid out the black leather seat. He was trying to look into your eyes but, you avoided it by looking at your bright white shoes. You stood up and ironed out your dress with your hands and headed towards the door with Wonho’s eyes sweetly following you.

Is this a date? Cause it feels like a date and I don’t know how to handle dates! You walked fast but not too fast as you didn’t want him to be suspicious. As you reached for the door his hand came up from behind you and opened it. You jumped as his fair delicate hand startled you. You slightly bowed and went inside as your face was burning with embarrassment and confusing feelings. Wonho let out a small amused puff of hair from his nose as he found your reactions adorable.

Suddenly you heard an older woman’s voice yell in Korean. “Oh! My son is here! Ho-Seok-ah~!” A middle-aged woman with short black hair who looked startlingly similar to Wonho walked towards you both with her arms open. She smiled wide as she went to hug Wonho.

“My handsome baby I haven’t seen you in so long. Let me fix you something to eat, eh?” She smiled even more as she kissed him on the cheek making Wonho laugh in embarrassment. He then cleared his throat making his mother turn around. “What? Why? Oh! Who is this pretty girl?” Wonho chuckled before he opened his mouth to introduce you but you cut him off. After telling her your name you bowed to her deeply.

“I’m actually working with Hoseok for a fashion design project at school. Lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful cafe. I’ve always wanted to come here.” She looked at Wonho happily then back at you then went to hug you.

“Wonderful to meet you too and, it’s such an honor that you know of our little place. Please have a seat on the terrace outside. It’s great inspiration. I’ll fix you two up the best we have.” She patted both your cheeks before going behind the counter again. Wonho then escorted you outside to the terrace and pulled out your chair. As you sat down you were mesmerized by the lush green before you as the modern glass skyscrapers reflected the beautiful blue hue of the sky. Wonho sat down across from you with a calm exhale.

“This place always helps me clear my head and gives me inspiration. I thought it might help since you know our assignment is all about putting things don’t usually go together.”

“It is really beautiful here. Your family is so lucky to own this place.” Wonho’s face was washed with a level of calm and serenity you’ve never seen before but that same feeling washed over you.

“Ok, you two. Here’s your food. We have a french vanilla soy latte with a hint of cinnamon and our famous Caprese sandwich with tomato, pesto, mozzarella and, a drizzle of balsamic with olive oil on our fresh baked olive and sundried tomato ciabatta bread. I also brought you kids some ice water and fresh apple juice to refresh you.” Wonho smiled affectionately at his mother before standing to help her set down the food.

“I got it, mom. Thank you.” They hugged and he kissed her on the cheek before she went back inside. “Don’t feel pressured to eat all this by the way my mother is very...her.” We both laughed.

“No don’t worry it looks delicious and I’m honored. Really I am. This place is so cool and I planned on coming at some point anyway. ” Wonho was smiling at you and you could see the underlining affection in his sparkling brown eyes. You two took out your sketchbooks are started sketching. You had never felt so inspired before. The affectionate atmosphere with such a kind handsome prince, the kindness of his mother, the delicious food, and drink and, the awe-inspiring scenery everything was just perfect. You didn’t want it to end and you couldn’t stop drawing, chatting and smiling with Wonho. As you two laughed, ate, and sketched you could feel butterflies in your stomach. When the sun began to set the romantic mood was intense as you got ready to leave.

Wonho pulled out your chair with a smile making you coyly smile in return. Wonho then went to hold your hand before you two headed back inside. Your eyes went wide at the sudden gesture but, you were so caught up in the moment you couldn’t resist. You held hands as he went to say goodbye to his mother making her smile even wider. When you got into the car there was an undeniable tension that was driving you crazy. When you glanced over at Wonho his ears were bright red making you giggle to yourself.

“Today was wonderful. We should totally do this again.” Wonho was smiling as he placed his hand next to you waiting for you to grasp it.

“...Yea….we should.” You smiled as you gently placed your hand in his.

#monsta x scenarios #monsta x wonho #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #monsta x jooheon #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop smut

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imallaboutthatbellownow · 7 years

Text

On the stage, there are no actors.

Human au where Blue Diamond is an actress kidnapped by stalkers.

Blue was the stage name she and her wife had chosen. They wanted to remain intriguing to the world, but keep their home life private. Blue and Yellow Diamond were extremely popular in the scene. They'd dealt with death threats from homophobic loons in the past, but as a general rule of thumb their lives were peaceful. That was until one day when Blue opened what at first seemed to be a heartfelt letter from a fan.

"Yellow, listen to this. I think I have an admirer. Dearest, beautiful Blue.” Yellow frowned. “They know you're married..." Blue giggled and took her hand. "No they probably don't. I mean just because there's no real difference between ourselves and our stage personas, doesn't mean we're transparent to the audience. As far as anyone knows outside our group of friends, our characters are married...anyway It's a nice letter. Just listen!"

Yellow smiled just slightly and kissed her ear, whispering. “Okay. But you belong to me." Blue shivered, blushing as she turned and kissed Yellow's lips. "I love it when you talk to me like that." Yellow chuckled. "I know. Now hurry up so I can remind you why." Blue set the letter down and kissed her deeply. "Hm...nope you've done it now. Basically I'm the most beautiful thing they've ever seen and they hope I'm happy. It's signed, The Pearls." Yellow kissed her again, picking her up to carry her to bed. "I'm sorry I'm a jealous wife..." She mumbled into Blue's neck, provoking a soft moan that sent shivers between her legs. "I'm not. " Blue giggled, running her hands through her wife's hair. "I should read you fan mail more often." Yellow looked up into her eyes for a moment. "Read the fan fics on Tumblr. We have a very wild sex life..." Blue outright laughed at this and kissed her again. "Shut up and get your clothes off!" Yellow put a finger to her lips. “Yes my clarity..."

....

Blue padded out into the kitchen again a few hours later, nude, her long blue hair covering her breasts, and started making a few sandwiches. Yellow was practically snoring back in the bedroom, but she knew the blond would also be hungry when she got up.

That's when her eyes fell on the envelope half hazardly strewn with the rest of that days mail. It appeared there was still something in it. She reached in and pulled out a small bubble wrap bag. Inside that there was a very exspencive looking diamond and pearl necklace. Blue and yellow pearls and gems interlinked to look like a sparkling lace choker. Part of her was excited, but that was something very personal and it made her uncomfortable.

Yellow padded out behind her, sleepily burying her face into Blue's hair. "You got up..." She took the necklace and stared at it. "It suits you. " the concern in Blue’s voice was evident as she responded. "It came with that letter." Yellow frowned as she sighed. "It still suits you. I think it'll be okay. It's probably not real."

She hooked it onto Blue and turned her to look. "Breath taking..." Blue Blushed softly again. "It is..." She whispered as she caught a glimpse in the microwave. Yellow kissed her deeply, running her fingers through Blues hair. "The necklace is pretty, but I meant you." Blue was caught between a blush and a giggle. "Oh stop it. I made you a sandwich. Sit down, I'm going to get clothes."

Later that night the two headed to dinner. It was their anniversary and Yellow had spared no expense. As they walked into the restaurant, Blue noticed a poster. "The Pearls. A sensual acrobatics act like none before, live one day only."

She looked over at Yellow.

"Hey. I think this must be who I got the letter and necklace from. We should go and thank them. This looks really interesting. What do you suppose sensual acrobatics are?"

Yellow raised a brow at this as they were taken to their table.

"Well, the one I saw in college was a bunch of girls doing interpretive dance of the kama sutra with a lot of elastic and very little clothes. I can already tell this one will be more sophisticated. We can go if you want. I'm a little interested though. Look at their outfits. Notice a theme?"

Blue nodded.

"Blue and yellow. But it looks like there are four. I like the white outfit best. I'm really intrigued. I wonder if it was like an ad or something. We'd get them a lot of business if we showed up. That's a little disappointing if so."

Yellow kissed her hand.

"I kind of hope that's what it was. I ended up reading that note. It's...romantic. Look blue, I just want you to be careful. I don't have a good feeling about this. I know you say you'd be honored to have a stalker, but it can get very dangerous. And really it scares me. I'd be shattered if anything happened to you."

Blue knew not to over question Yellows instincts as they’d been very accurate in the past. She looked into Yellow’s honey eyes and and nodded with a soft smile. “I’m sure that’s all it is. if this gets any deeper i’ll go to the police. but for now, let’s look at it as a publicity stunt.”

Yellow nodded and kissed her fingertips, closing her eyes. “and enjoy the rest of the evening. i have a surprise for you at the end of the night...”

......

The two walked through a candlelit garden alone later that night, arm in arm. “i can’t believe it’s been five years.” Blue whispered and Yellow kissed her temple. “feels like we’ve been together our whole lives...and i can’t wait for five more. and ten more. I love you so much, i sometimes wish we could crawl inside each other and become one being so we’d never be apart again.” While Yellow was completely serious, Blue began to giggle at the image produced by her words. “I’m sorry...just...i know what you mean but the image i got was just too funny!” soon Yellow was laughing too and when they got to a cross roads Yellow stopped her, pulled her into the middle before going down on one knee before her. Blue gasped softly as she reached into the breast pocket of her jacket and produced a glittering green diamond ring. “Blue...” she took a deep breath. “we’ve been together for eight years, five months, and thirteen days, and i’ve cherished every second. i know i couldn’t give you the wedding you’d always wanted, but now i can. will you renew our vows with me next year?” Blue smiled brightly and nodded as Yellow slipped the ring onto her finger. “so this is why you told me to wear my wedding ring on my right hand.” she giggled and leaned down, kissing Yellow softly. “how could i say no? this stage show has brought us so much.” she pulled Yellow to her feet and Yellow kissed her for a long moment. Blues heart fluttered and she sighed happily, melting into yellows arms.

Blue woke with a yawn late the next morning to find a rose and a card on the pillow in Yellows place. She giggled as she read it.

"My radiant clarity. I'm sure after last night you're totally spent, so lunch in bed it is."

Blue was picking the petals off the rose and laying them in a heart shape on yellows pillow when her wife came in with a tray.

"You're up. Good morning. "

she set the tray between them on the bed and kissed her deeply.

"we can use those in the bath later."

Blue entwined her fingers with yellows for a moment while lunch cooled enough to eat. She rested her head against her shoulder and closed her eyes. She was most content when she and yellow were on break from the show. It was fun while they worked on it, but that was a lot of time reversing and writing and prop building for the next installment. They were on break now for a few more weeks and she and yellow were already brain storming another act. Soon it would be getting back to work all over again. For now she was happy to have some much time to spend with her wife.

"okay so anniversary is over. Vacation is coming to an end. I want to talk business. " yellow raised a brow at this and a smile tugged at the corner of lips. "Got a new idea?" Blue nodded. "This season starts off with the diamonds on vacation, only to find themselves in the middle of a murder investigation. I know, it's pretty cliche, but people seem to like it most of the time." Yellow shrugged. "I'm sure we could put an original spin on it. Or at least twist it a little. My sister has been wanting in on this for a while now." Blue got excited and covered her mouth with a squeal. "We could dress her in all pink and have her not really be dead and we can work the ending into the season after that! Please yellow?! I'll write the whole thing and coach her and take her shopping!" Yellow chuckled. "Okay okay okay...ill call her this afternoon! " blue squeaked and tackled her, kissing all over her face before hugging her tightly. "Yay I'm so happy! You won't regret it! I can't wait to get to work!"

A few weeks flew by quickly and Yellows sister had excitedly joined the act. She would be known now as Pink Diamond. Blue was showing her around the set, introducing her to the crew. "And here's the dressing room. Yellow and I usually change together so we'll let you use it first. We can all do make up together though." She opened the door to show her. "These are our new costumes for this season. I've called the tailor to get your measurements so we can sit down and start designing yours." She noticed something on her dressing table and picked it up. An envelope addressed to The Diamonds. Opening it she found two tickets and a note. "Dearest clarity Blue and wife. Please accept these tickets to our show, one night only, and stay after for a special performance just for you." Once again it was signed The Pearls. Pink frowned softly. "That's kinda creepy. Didn't you just say you and yellow were going to that?" Blue nodded with a frown. “it’s a little weird i’ll give it that, but Yellow and I suspected it may have been a publicity stunt and they just wanted us to come so they sent me a...nice...letter. i would have thought they’d want us to pay for tickets.” Pink shrugged. “i mean they get a lot more by giving you tickets. they’re probably telling everyone you’ll be there. so people will show up even if you’re not really going. are you going?” Blue nodded. “it looks interesting, i want to thank them for the note and this beautiful necklace.” Pink smiled as Yellow walked in with the tailor in toe. “afternoon.” Blue waved and took Yellows hand. “let’s go get a coffee while they’re playing dress up.” Yellow chuckled and nodded. Pink yelled after them. “HEY! nice to invite me you jerkwad! I’ll take a tall pepermint okay!” blue nodded. “we’ll be back soon!”

Yellow was ordering the coffee as Blue was in the bathroom. As she stepped out she accidentally bumped into someone. "Oh sorry i..." But she stopped in her tracks as she noticed who it was. "Well, if it isn't the devil herself." She had blue backed into the wall in no time. "What are you doing here?!" Yellow looked up, eyes widening. "What the hell did you think you're doing?!" She set the coffee down and the woman stepped back, allowing Blue to run to her. She was visibly shaking as she clung to Yellow. "Oh...i see. We're still playing that game. I'm not going to hurt you Mira." Yellow hissed and pushed Blue gently behind her. "Her name is Blue. Now who the fuck are you and what are you doing to my wife?!" She chuckled. "I wouldn't let go of her. She likes to play this game where she makes herself faint to get attention. Once it starts, everything you do or say will become a threat. I'm not doing a damn thing except using the bathroom. I had no idea it was her in there. I'm the x she probably was scared to tell you about. Anyway, I just needed to touch up my make up. I'll be going. Oh but...Blue is it? One more tiny thing." She watched the light leave Blue's eyes. "I've moved back and it's over. You'll probably be seeing me around with my new girlfriend. So get used to it. You and I are over. I'm sorry it ended the way it did, but please, let's just try to stay out of each other's way." She then looked back to Yellow. "I'd catch her if i were you. Its rather hot actually. Take her home and fuck her like you mean it. She'll be super wet." With that she left, glancing up just in time to see Blue hit the floor. She smirked to herself as she walked away.

Blue woke, heart beginning to pound as she heard Yellow. "There's unfortunately nothing I can press charges for. She didn't do anything...except be a complete disgusting bitch. If she comes near Blue again I'll do what I should have done and punched her in the fucking face. I'll be back, I'm going to check on her. The paramedics said she was just shocked..." She sat up as Yellow entered and the tears started immediately. "Blue..." Yellow sat beside her and held her close. "It's okay. Who was that?" Blue clung to her. "That was the x I told you about." She bit her lip as Yellow gently pushed her back to look into her tearful eyes. "The one you have a restraining order against?! If I had known..." Blue shook her head, sobbing harder now. "Had. It expired a few days ago. I didn't have enough time to try to get it reinstated! There's....things I didn't tell you. I should have. But I was afraid you'd be disgusted by me..." Yellow shushed her and hugged her close again. "Not right now. Wait until you calm down. I don't want you fainting again." She gently ran her fingers through Blues hair. "It doesn't matter. " Blue shook her head. "It does. Because I might have to go through the trial all over again. What she said...shes Not completely wrong. It started as her idea and then I...kind of liked it. I liked it rough. And sometimes. " she pulled away and curled up. "Blue, you can tell me. I was just really scared. If it's some kind of kink I won't hesitate to try it if you want...probably..." Blue closed her eyes. "No. I don't want to play this game with you. Not the way she did anyway. One day she actually choked me out...and I liked it. It's true that I liked her attention when I fainted, but she's the one that started it and she'd do anything to get me to do it in public. She kind of raped me a couple times. I'd wake up in random places. Her car, a bathroom...i'm actually surprised you hadn't heard of me when we met. It just kept getting crazier and crazier and I couldn't get control. Finally one day she hired some guy off the street to pretend to kidnap me with a knife. I beat the hell out of her when I woke up to her hand up my skirt in an alley, and the guy keeping watch. I was just so embarrassed and scared and I realized i had to get out then and there. I repressed the kinks. And then I found you. And you were perfect and amazing and I played with the idea of asking you about it, but I wanted to marry you and didn't want to sacrifice that possibility." She bit her lip. "She likes to see me crumble. She's the one that likes the public attention. And she wouldn't keep it in the bedroom. And now..." She whined as she clutched the hem of her skirt. "I want you to forgive me." Yellow's eyes widened as she was told the full story. "Blue..." She pulled her close again and kissed her head. "I'm Sorry. If I had known i wouldn't have let her out the door. I'd like to beat the shit out of her. But blue, you're what's most important. Let's go home and relax. Pink heard the sirens and drove over so we'll go home. We'll rest and if you want, I'll go back to the police department with you tomorrow to file another restraing order." Blue nodded, closing her eyes and for a moment she squeezed Yellows hand. "I'm just thankful you understand and still want to be with me." Yellow bit her lip. "Sounds like she was pretty abusive." That worried her about what ever new girlfriend she was talking about. But that was a thought for later, when Blue was out of earshot...one for a good friend.

later at home, Yellow had put Blue to bed, insisting she rest, and called her friend. not long after, he was at the door and she closed the bedroom door. Blue was unaware of this friend, and if she had any say in it, she never would. he pulled off his black leather gloves and cracked his knuckles. “so tell me what’s going on.” Yellow sat across from him and bit her lip. “i’m not entirely sure honestly. but i worry for another woman. after everything you did for me, i thought you would be the best person to handle this. Blue’s psycho X showed up today. she apparently had a four year restraining order, but it was recently lifted. from what i’ve gathered, the bitch was extremely abusive, sexually and emotionally, and probably physically as well. it’s not fair to Blue to go into detail so i wont, but believe me when i say there’s a reason i called you. this woman is bad news and she’s apparently got a new girlfriend. that’s who i’m worried about. the things this woman did to Blue...” she looked away, biting her knuckles. “probably not far off from what she’s probably doing to this girl. here’s all your info. for right now i just want you to watch her. see if she’s repeating behavior. look for things like women randomly fainting in public...” She slid a folder over to him with all the information she could find on the woman. “what do i owe you?” He shook his head. “if it’s like you say it’ll be my pleasure. i know you don’t call me lightly. if i can help her, than i’ve been repaid. how are you doing anyway?” Yellow smiled softly. “really good. Blue is exactly what i needed. i really enjoy what i do. i forget some days how far i’ve come. it’s like none of it happened now. i’m living for me now and i have everything i ever wanted. it wasn’t until the incident today that i realized it had been so long since i even noticed my scars. it kind of threw me back i admit, but i’d do anything to keep her safe. and i feel like this afternoon was a threat. in short, i’m healing a lot better now. i know i’ll never been fully healed, there will always be the dreams, but having her really helps. she’s there for me without question when i need her, and i had no idea she’d been through that. she’s just so graceful and full of life. we’ll have to talk about this at some point. i want to help her heal. but for right now i need to make sure she’s safe...” he nodded as he stood and tucked the folder under his arm. “i’ll let you know what i can find. but if i see it happening...” she nodded also. “i trust you’ll do the right thing.”

A few days passed with no word or incident and it was time to go to the performance. Yellow walked up behind Blue and hugged her as she stood looking over herself in the mirror. She was trying to act normal, But Yellow knew the look in her eyes. “so beautiful. i hope you like tonight. it’ll be interesting to finally meet these people. what’s on your mind?” Blue looked up into her eyes in the mirror for a moment before sighing, “that obvious? well...i’m a little nervous honestly...your sister seems to be a little unnerved by it too. i just...i’m not sure it’s a good idea now.” Yellow kissed her ear softly. “we’ll stay for the show and leave when it’s over. we can just explain that we’re too buisy with our own show to stay." Blue nodded, looking down to the necklace she'd been wearing the whole time. "It is really pretty and I should thank them..." Yellow kissed her cheek and hugged her tightly. "Let's go. We'll have dinner out after the show?" Blue nodded. "Sounds good. " Blue was mesmerized by the performance and half way through she'd forgotten all her fears. The woman were very tiny, almost child like in stature and incredibly flexible as they danced around each other. It was just as the last act was finishing that Yellow got a text from her friend. "Be right back. Have to make a call." Blue nodded. This wasn't all that out of character for her. When yellow got into the bathroom and called, she was met with a panicked voice. "Don't take Blue to that performance! It's been set up by that woman!" Yellow didn't even answer as she hung up. As she was trying to make her way back into the auditorium, throngs of people were already leaving, preventing her from getting through the hall quickly. "Blue!" She cried as she looked around. She got back in to find Blue on stage with the white pearl who was actually quite a bit taller than herself. "Blue!" The woman she was talking to suddenly grabbed her arm and spun her around to face Yellow, holding her tightly against her chest. “YELLOW!” she started to run but before she could get three steps, something came down hard on her head and the last thing she saw was Blue falling into the other womans arms.

Yellow woke in the back of an ambulance and was held down by several paramedics. “you have a concussion and you’re attached to an iv! stop!” she ripped the oxygen mask off and struggled against them. “MY WIFE?! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!” they looked at each other and then down at her. “we’ll talk about that in a few minutes but you need to calm down first!” she screamed as she once again tried to come off the gurney. “you tell me where she is or i’ll tear this thing apart to get out!” one of the paramdics motioned to a police officer. “cuff her. she’s a danger to herself.” She narrowed her eyes, about to fight again when her friend came up and shook his head. “Ashlyn stop. Mira is unharmed for the moment, but she’s making demands.” Yellow stilled almost instantly and they cuffed her to the gurney. “she’s still in there? if...if i hadn’t checked my phone i would have been there with her...” she looked over at him as he stepped up into the ambulance and took her hand into both of his. “it’s going to be okay. if you need to blame anyone, it’s me for not texting you sooner. right now we need to focus. we don’t believe she wants to kill Mira. but there are four total. one of them is this new girlfriend she was talking about and as far as i can tell she’s a hostage too. she wants to talk to you...” Yellow laid back. “okay. i’ll give her anything she wants. i just need her back. safe.” she tried to hold back the tears but she’d never been so scared in her life. he handed her the phone. “hello?” the woman’s voice was quiet on the line. “by now i’m sure you’ve been told what’s going on. i have some...demands but really what i want will only be mine by choice. it’s actually her needs i’m considering here.” Yellow held her breath. “just tell me what you want.” She laughed on the other end. "What I want is for your wife to leave you. But she's not awake enough yet to make that decision. In the meantime we require some things I deliberately didn't get. Just so I could add insult to injury when she walks out on my arm. I also want you to give a press statement at noon tomorrow. We'll need things for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. So I think whatever Mira would like best for both. I'll contact you again later when she wakes. The idea that I had killed you was too much for her. Also, Ashlyn Star sounds like a really good pornstar name. Maybe if you take that up you'll be more successful. No wonder you took her last name." Before Yellow could respond, she hung up. Yellow felt sick and she looked up. "Steven. Take my credit card and go to the store. Listen close and write this down." He nodded and pulled out the notepad and pen he normally kept in his breast pocket. "Ketchup, iceberg lettuce, lemons, herring, redpepper." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Also two steaks, most expensive you can find, one of them new York strip, Blues favorite...and whatever else you think is good. Under nightstand is..." She began to sob and he put the notepad up quickly, hugging her tightly. "It's gonna be okay. I'll get everything. I'll even get extras. I'll make sure it's perfect. You won't need to worry. You'll get her back safe." He then went to kiss her ear and whispered. "8 pm tomorrow. No later i promise..." She sobbed into his shoulder for a few moments, clutching his jacket. He reluctantly pulled away and slid his fingers gently down her cheek. "Try to relax. " she nodded. "And eggs. "

After the police delivered the things, Yellow was sent home. She got no sleep at all and checking the safe only made her more anxious. He hadn't taken it. She was sure he'd understand. But there was no way of asking him since her phone was tapped. The sound of it ringing startled her and she bolted when she heard Blue's ringtone. "Blue!?" There was sobbing on the other end and it took all her strength to slide down the wall. "Yellow. I don't have long. So I just wanted to hear your voice one last time. I...i'm leaving you." Yellow choked. "Blue no. I need you. Please. We'll find a way. " "tick tock..." She heard the crazy woman in the background. "She's got this place totally mapped out and she's got two accomplices. Anytime I refuse her they..." She screamed. "Stop it! Let me go! Yellow! I'm sorry, I'll always love you but I can't do this!" She screamed again as the phone was taken from her. "It's time Mira. They know what they're doing. Don't fight them, they like it..." She bit her lip as she watched Blue fall limp. "I can't wait to have her again. She's agreed. If course it was because I threatened to kill you if she said no. I needed her a little more worked up to get her to the fainting point. I knew talking to you would do the trick. Oh and do open your door, I've left you a little...present. I contemplated using it for later, but I decided a momento to remember her by would be nicer." Yellow crawled to the door and found a box with the necklace and a CD. "Don't you dare touch her." She managed to hiss before Steven came in. "Too late for that. Enjoy your present. " with that she hung up.

Steven took the phone from her and pocketed it before lifting her from the floor. He carried her over to the couch and went back for the box. "Just as I thought. This necklace was a recording device..." Yellow stared at him, heart pounding, finding it hard to breath. She'd never had a fainting spell before but she was close now. "Put it...in the laptop. " Her voice was weak. Steven frowned "I don't think..." She clutched the pillow beneath her. "I need to know!" He did as he was told and a video popped up with a title card. "Blue and yellow. 2011 _ 2018" for the next ten minutes, a clip show of everything romantic or sweet they'd done while Blue was wearing the necklace played and Yellow broke down. It ended with her preposing again but this time there was a new clip. One of Blue tied to a chair on the stage, a pale white hand wrapped somewhat tightly around her throat from behind, but all she could see was the shadow of the figure. "I'm..." Blue's voice sounded so out of that she almost couldn't believe it was hers. "Sorry...but i'm in love...with someone else now." The fingers slid up to grip her chin and turn her face. "White..." She whispered. "Samantha..." the figure dressed all in white leaned down, kissing her deeply as the camera panned in on their lips. When Blue fell limp yellow lost it, screaming and tried to come up off the couch but he quickly caught her as her legs once again gave out below her. "Bitch!" She screamed. "I'll..." But before she could finish the sentence, he kissed her deeply. She stilled, eyes widening before taking a deep breath. He let her go and gently pushed her back. "Relax. Breathe. This is exactly what she wants. She's working you up to see how far she has to go before you'll hurt yourself. Don't let her win. Have faith in me." She bit her lip and nodded. "I believe in you. Please don't leave me alone right now. " he shook his head. "I came over to check on you. I was worried that you might hurt yourself. " she looked away. "I thought about it. But when Blue found out...the pain In her eyes. I've been clean for nearly six years. But it's hard. Especially without her here. I know it goes against everything in therapy, but she really is my solid place." He nodded and helped her to her bed. "I'm gonna spend the night." Steven and Yellow had a very complicated relationship. In elementary they were best friends, he moved away in middle school, in high school he'd changed so much she couldn't stand him, and for a very brief time they dated in college. They fought like cats and dogs for months while he tried to pull her from a very abusive relationship, and once successful, they dated again until she had healed enough to try and find love again. That's when she found Blue and her life had never been the same. She had been afraid to tell Blue any of this, but now she feared what she would be when she escaped. She closed her eyes and curled into him. He'd always been there when she really needed him, even when they had fought and she took comfort in his true love for her.

Blue woke slowly, feeling again the multiple sets of hands caressing her. But she was also there, watching a live cast. It was yellow and her heart skipped. “yellow...” She sat up slowly and looked down at herself, nearly screaming as she realized she had been changed into a wedding dress. “ah...just in time my darling. you’re soon to be ex has heeded my demands...she’s about to speak, i’ll turn it up so you can hear.”

yellow was visibly having trouble keep it together as she stood trembling in front of a fairly large crowd. "I don't know why you wanted me to do this. But I'm here. I hope you're allowing Blue to watch. If...you can hear me, I just need you to know that I love you more than my own life and I just want you to be happy..." "I am in fact letting her watch. Now someone is going to approach you with a present. This is not anyone involved, just a random bystander. Another hostage if you will. So please don't stop her. I have trained assassins on the roof..." yellow looked up, eyes widening as she saw a gun pointed down at her. The woman emerged from the theater in tears and slowly made her way. "She's torturing her. Please do what she says but get her out of there. I've been a fan of yours for a long time. Since YouTube. Please..." She handed a small pouch to her with a suppressed sob. Yellows eyes grew dark as she saw it was blues wedding and engagement ring with a small note. she slid the rings on her finger and bit her lip as she read it. ‘my love. my clarity and my strength. it’s over or she’ll kill you. goodbye...’ “unfortunately...it’s over between you. fire.” the woman in front of her shoved her to the ground just as the gunman fired and the live stream cut off. Yellow didn’t even have time to scream as she hit the ground and the woman fell on top of her. blood began to cover her and she lost it soon after, falling limp. Blue screamed, knocking the chair over as she tried to get up. “I WILL KILL YOU!” she screamed. the two women were surprised by this and righted the chair. “release her.” They did as they were told and Blue was on her feet. she had almost made it to the woman who was now going by White Diamond, before she was backhanded so hard she hit the floor and slid back. the taste of blood filled her mouth and it trickled from her lip. she lay there on the floor trembling. “she’s dead Blue. now there’s no distraction from me.” the pearls pulled her back to the chair but didn’t tie her down as Pink Pearl, White’s new girlfriend, came into the room slowly. “White...let me speak to her alone...” she pulled out a napkin and dabbed it on Blue’s lip. White motioned for the pearls to come with her. Blue moaned softly as she closed her eyes. "Blue..." She spoke softly. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea she was like this. Please forgive me. " Blue began to cry. "She's a monster. There's nothing to forgive. I had no idea she was like this either. I don't understand though, why are you still with her? This started months ago." Pink looked away with a frown. "I fell in love with her. And I wanted her to be happy. She made it sound like the three of us would be together. But this isn't what I thought would happen and I'm really scared. I don't think Yellow got shot. Don't worry. I warned that girl and told her to warn Yellow." Blue heard commotion in the next room and jolted at a very loud bang. "Oh god, what was that?!" She began to tremble as she saw Steven appear in the doorway. "She's killed herself. I tried to stop her..." Pink looked up, eyes widening. "D- dead?" She whimpered softly and crumbled. Blue likewise was somehow devastated. “Yellow is waiting for you at the hospital. there’s an ambulance right outside.” the sound of paramedics could be heard in the next room and that’s when Blue was gone. the realization that it was over and that she’d never have to deal with this woman again, saddened her and put her mind over the edge.

When she woke again, Yellow was laying beside her in the hospital bed. She turned to face the sobbing mess beside her and kissed her forehead. Yellow bolted to sitting and pulled her closer into her arms. “Blue!” Blue took a few deep breathes, trying to fend off the tears. “shhh.” she sat up herself, beginning to break down. “Yellow...i thought i’d never see you again. but she’s dead. she killed herself. at least...i hope she’s dead. as horrible as i feel for saying that...what happened to the other girl? she was going by Pink? and the others...?” Yellow frowned. “Pink was released from the hospital a few hours ago. they just wanted to check her out. you were really dehydrated and they found some weird drugs in you system so you’re stuck here for another day or so. until it clears and we make sure there’s no residual side effects. but i’m not leaving you.” she kissed Blue’s head softly and took her hand. “i’ve been crying since i woke up. a fan of ours, the girl with your rings. she was shot in my place. she’s gonna be okay. i went and visited her a while ago. but the shooter and the two others were nowhere to be found.” she gasped softy and clung to Yellow who held her just a little tighter. “shh...it won’t happen again. i’ll keep an eye out.” Blue whimpered. “they were wearing masks. there’s no way of knowing what they really look like.i just...want to go home.” they looked up as there was a knock on the door. a slightly heavy set man with long curly black hair was in the doorway with a bouquet of forget-me-nots and daffodils. Yellow smiled and nodded. “How’s the lady doing?” He sheepishly set it on the bedside table. “you...” she whispered, drawing closer to Yellow. he nodded. “i suppose she’s got a lot to tell you but for now, i’m Steven. a really old friend.” She bit her lip and looked up at Yellow who seemed strangely serene. “Yeah when you come home we need to have a long talk. Steven was able to find a way in and was coming to save you. unfortunately i...” she looked away. “i couldn’t.” Blue rested her head on Yellow’s chest. “i’d rather you be safe. it’s okay. She...was really dangerous...” she looked up to Steven for a minute. “so...you saw her kill herself? you said you tried to stop her...” he nodded with a soft frown. “said something about this being her plan the whole time. i don’t know, she seemed...angry. she left a note...i don’t know if it would help or hurt. i took a picture of it with my phone since the police collected it as evidence.” she gripped Yellows hand tight and nodded. “i want to see it.” as she read the note, Yellow looked up at him in confusion. Blue gasped and fought back tears. “i guess i was always jealous of you. i could never quite get my hair that golden, or my eyes that Caribbean blue.i didn’t just want you, i wanted to be you. to tear off your skin and wear it. you’ll never know how damaged i am. so this is it. i was going to do it durring the live stream but i couldn’t put you through seeing my brain matter spilling all over the floor.” Blue felt sick at that part. after a few seconds of clenching her jaw and a few deep breaths she continued. “this is our final goodbye. it was a good game while it lasted...” she handed him back the phone. “i just hope Pink was spared the horrors she laid on me.”

a few weeks later Yellow invited Steven over. Blue was feeling better, though she was still having periods of tears and weakness. Yellow had patience with her, even when she would scream at her and lock her out of the bedroom. Yellow understood all that, and today was when she thought it was good to tell Blue everything about her past. Steven sat quietly talking to Yellow while they waited for Blue. "So how bad is it?" Yellow sighed deeply. "Off and on it's pretty bad. When the nightmares started she would scream at me to go sleep on the couch and lock me out. I can't get her to tell me what they're about. That's a really strange reaction. " he nodded. "But you know what I'm asking..." yellow bit her lip. "No. I think that's just something I've struggled with my whole life. Stuff happened in middle school. But that's really unimportant now. She's getting better. She's had a couple fainting spells...mostly when she sees something that reminds her. There was a news article in the paper about the whole thing, and that bitches face was on the front page. I thought I was going to be sick." Steven grimaced and nodded. "It's kind of unreal how famous you've gotten. I saw that." Yellow leaned closer. "So how did you do it?" He was silent for a moment. "Well I knew I couldn't use yours. Blue doesn't deserve to get congical visits you know. I'd have to make it look like a robbery but that was too suspicious. I've got the right friends and I secured a small handgun. The spineless acrobats ran as soon as they saw me so they were no problem. I'd written the note, but didn't actually leave it. I knocked her out, put the gun in her hand and fired. I'll spare you the details after that." Yellow shivered and nodded. "So I can once again thank the crystal gems?" He nodded with a smile. "Birdmom doesn't know though." She chuckled at this. "For the better." They looked up as Blue slowly unlocked the door and came out. She hadn't dyed her hair in a while so the now honey blond looked like she had ombre hair. It was becoming, but the heavy circles under her puffy eyes told a story. She sat down in Yellows lap and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry. Don't listen to me if it happens tonight. I feel terrible waking up without you." She looked up at Steven and tried to smile. "I never did property introduce myself did I? You're a friend of yellows? She said you were coming over today." Yellow wrapped her arms around Blue. "We need to talk about things." Blue looked up into her eyes for a moment before nodding and pulling away. She sat next to her and took her hand. "Well...ill start from the beginning. Steven and I have been really good friends since before school. He lived next door with his dad and his aunts. We've had ups and downs, but this bastard went and got a phycology degree to get me out of a really abusive relationship. " she chuckled even as she teared up. Blue's eyes widened and she started to speak but yellow stopped her and looked to Steven who snapped his fingers three times. I'm return she snapped hers three times, taking a deep breath with each. "I experimented a lot in college. Men and women, mostly women. Drugs alcohol...the drugs is how I found him..." Blue took her hand and kissed it softly, looking up into her eyes. She wanted to tell Yellow it was okay. But she feared speaking would break her. Yellow nuzzled her face And kissed her forehead. "I should have known. But I was barely eighteen and I was on my own for the first time, and I had been denied so many things. My family thought I would marry Steven. Hell, at one point I thought I would. But this guy seemed so nice at first and Steven and I had a falling out earlier that year. And I started to notice girls a lot more..." She was trembling now as she closed her eyes. "I'm not going to go into detail because I'll probably have another break if I do. It was just a really bad relationship. He hit me as lot, and other things. I don't think I was sober the entire time, and I almost dropped out because of it. I don't know how I kept my grades up. But afterword, Steven pulled me back together. He switched his degree to phycology just to help me." Steven took her other hand and kissed her fingers gently. "I have always loved you and I'd give my life for you a thousand times over. I'm just happy to see you in a healthy relationship, sober, and clean. And since then I've been able to help so many more. Don't feel too bad, this is way more fulfilling than being a geologist astronomer ever would be." Yellow smiled softly but pulled her hand away as she saw a pained look in blues eyes. "Is...there more to this? Please tell me you're not leaving me? I don't like the way that just happened. " Steven was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. No we're not involved like that anymore. And when we were it never went very far. And even then it was pretty one sided. You never really get over your first love. And no matter how many women are in and out of my life, I'm always going to love her like that. But I also respect her feelings and I know she'll never love me that way. And I'm okay with it, because she loves me like family, and that's way more important to me." Blue was skeptical but nodded. "So you think you can help me? In that very short time she did more damage than she did in the three and a half years we were together. I've been having horrible nightmares about those things that helped her. I think it has something to do with Yellow holding me. They're feeling me up in a soft bed, then they start having sex with each other while they take turns..." She bit her lip and began to cry softly. She choked on her words and yellow pulled her close. "I'm so sorry. Tonight we try just holding hands okay? Hopefully you won't have it again." She kissed blues head. Steven frowned as he saw the look on her face. It wasn't so dissimilar to one he saw for years on Yellows so he grabbed her attention. "When I snap my fingers I want you to respond but with deep breaths okay? You're having a panic attack. And that's okay, but we're going to try to stop it." She nodded and he snapped his fingers. She repeated the way yellow had and he did it again. After a few minutes, she felt better and rested her head on Yellows chest. "I love you so much." She whimpered and yellow hugged her tighter. "It's gonna be okay." Blue sobbed into her shoulder, hugging her tightly. "Maybe telling you will stop it. I wake up still feeling the hands." she was shivering and Yellow hugged her just a little tighter. “i’m going to have him come over once a week for you okay? i was a wreck after my ex and we lived together for about a year. if you want me sit with you while you talk to him i will. but i think you’ve had enough for...” Blue stopped her with a deep kiss and shook her head. “i’m in a lot of pain and i want...to start now. i do want you with me.” the look in her eyes told Yellow she didn’t exactly trust him. She nodded and stood. “i’m gonna go get a drink. do you want something?” Blue nodded. “water, thanks.”

she jumped as Steven took her hand gently. "I want you to know one thing. Whatever your breaking point, however shattered you feel, it's okay to not be okay. Don't trivialize what happened to you. It's going to affect you for the rest of your life. It's okay to take as long as you need to start feeling safe again. But yellow is going to be there for you in ways I won't be able to be. You have a good support system. My phone is on all the time. If you need to talk and you don't want to talk to her, call me any time. Day or night. Even if it's three am." She nodded. "Thank you."

After a few weeks, blue made the decision to go on with the show as planned. They went in and rehearsed four times just to catch up. Blue found she felt safest on the stage and she started to heal. she was still having terrible nightmares but waking Yellow helped. And she and yellow implemented the snapping technique to break her panic attacks. Collectively they decided new rings might help. A symbol of the new start they had planned. There was an outpouring of support from their fans, some sending extra money and presents. Blue had never felt more loved in her entire life. That's right about the time that pink pearl came back into their lives. Blue was grateful for this, as she had worried constantly about her. She even joined the show and unexpectedly, Yellow's sister started to like her. Yellow hadn't considered the idea that she might also be bi because she'd never seemed interested in girls before. None the less, blue and yellow were supportive. For nearly two months things got back to normal for the most part. But Steven started hanging around more often, and she didn't like the way he looked at Yellow. This caused a few problems with Yellow insisting that nothing was going on. But Blue just had a feeling they were keeping a secret from her. This exploded one night when Yellow got very drunk and started texting him. Blue had tried very hard to ignore her feeling, but the conversation seemed serious and Yellow was hiding her phone and deleting texts. Finally she exploded. "You know you're not being nearly as sneaky as you think you are." Yellow looked up, eyes widening for a moment. "What?" Blue began to cry softly. "If...you want someone else just tell me and we can work it out. If I'm not enough for you...." Yellow frowned but was silent. They were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Blue instantly froze. "It's two am..." Yellow grabbed her gun from the safe, suddenly feeling pretty sober. She looked out, not thinking about her phone until she turned to see Blue trembling. To make matters worse, there was a giant poster on the door of Steven kissing her. "This is how I had to find out?! You've been fighting with me for weeks about This! She doesn't suspect does she?! I can only guess how the rest of this went! I fucking hate you right now! After everything!" Yellow made a split second decision she might regret. "I just...i didn't want to hurt you. With everything that was going on...i wanted to wait until the show was over..." blue threw the phone at her and ran into the room sobbing, locking the door behind her. Yellow picked up the phone, texting Steven to come and get her. She leaned against the bedroom door and closed her eyes. "I still love you Blue. More than anything. So please don't cut me out. Tomorrow when I'm sober and you've had rest, let's talk. I...ill leave my key. Make sure the door is locked. Those bitches were here. They're the ones who knocked and left the fucking poster. I'm sure they're gone for the night just..." She looked into Blue's puffy tearfull eyes as she opened the door just enough. " You better hang onto these. We need to finish out the season. I hope you don't think you're taking one of the cars tonight. Because I swear I'll beat the living hell out of you." Yellows heart broke as Blue dropped all four rings into her hand. "No. Steven is coming." "Of course he is..." She looked away. "I...ill see you tomorrow at rehearsal. We'll talk then." She nodded and solemnly made sure the doors and windows were locked and left all her keys on the table, locking the front door on her way out. When she got into the car she broke down. Steven was quiet as he drove. "Tell me what happened. " he whispered as he helped her into the apartment. She went straight to his liquor chest and grabbed the strongest thing she could find but before she could drink more than a few gulps, he pulled it away from her, hugging her tightly. "You know that won't make it better...just tell me everything." Yellow fell into him, nearly screaming as she cried. "It's over! She thinks I was cheating with you! And I let her believe it! Those things showed up at the house and posted a fucking poster size print out of you kissing me and I was deleting out texts so the only one she saw was you asking if she suspected! I don't know how to fix this! I just want to die!" He frowned deeply and pulled her back and onto the couch. "We'll fix it Yellow. You're so drunk right now that I might need to take you to the hospital. How much did you have before you started drinking in front of her?" Yellow took a deep breath. "Pint of jack and a tab of acid..." Steven nearly screamed as he pushed her back to look into her face. “where and why the fuck?! i’m sorry but you’ve come this far to relapse for no reason?!” Yellow brushed at her tears, angry now. “it was a small dose it ran off before i even had two shots and there was a reason! those bitches said if i didn’t take it, they’d tell Blue that you killed her ex! they didn’t say they were going to reveal that you kissed me, so thanks a fucking lot for that! if you hadn’t been such a dick i wouldn’t be here right now!” He narrowed his eyes. “i kissed you to silence you because your fucking house was bugged by the cops! i’m taking you to the hospital! and when i find them i’m going to kill them too!”

The next day, yellow and Steven walked in to the theater, yellow stone faced. She cracked a tiny smile at Blue who simply looked away. "Blue." But the rest of her words fell silent. Blue looked up at her a moment. "You're early. I didn't expect you so soon. I am unprepared for a talk." Yellow bit her lip so hard it almost bled. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't want you to find out that way. And I still want to be with you. But I think for the moment it'd be best if I moved out for a while. We'll finish out the show and then talk about moving back in together. " blue nodded. "I need time to think about this. I don't want us to end like this. If it's going to happen than I want it to be on good terms. I just feel so betrayed. After everything I went through." Yellow looked down, finding it hard to look at Blue and lie through her teeth. "I guess I always had feelings for him and I couldn't help myself. I was wrong. And I don't want to lose you over this. Please don't think that you're not enough. You're the reason I'm alive. I just...he came to my rescue. And...i don't know blue. I love both of you. Equally. I didn't think I had the capacity to be poly but I guess I do." Blue was silent as she stared between them. Something was off about this whole thing. "Have you fucked yet?" Yellow and Steven were taken aback and Steven looked like he'd be sick. "No. I don't want to have sex with him. I just...i want the cuddles and the kisses and stuff like that. I'm just not into him sexually. Men have to be a certain type for me." Blue nodded. That answered far more than yellow had intended. "I'm gonna get dressed. Pink should be arriving soon. She's bringing your car. I...i called her this morning, I know I probably shouldn't have gotten her involved, but I needed to talk to someone and she was my best option. " yellow grimaced. Pink would have her head. But she couldn't back out just yet. So she nodded and waited for the enevitable drama that was about to unfold.

After first rehersal, blue went back to the dressing room to change her make up...and get away from Yellow and Steven for a bit. She had gotten about as far as removing that mornings make up, and reached for the foundation when she froze. In the mirror she caught movement but when she turned, no one was there. She quickly put the foundation on and was looking for her eyeliner but to her dismay it was missing. She froze once more, heart pounding as she heard something hit the floor behind her. She sat there silently until she heard a soft voice. "Blue, turn around." But that was impossible. She turned slowly and found it on the floor. She carefully picked it up and bolted for the door, only to find it locked. "Blue, I just want to apologize. Stop." She turned, screaming as she saw a vague form of White materializing in front of her. "You're not real!" She tried again to open the door. "Blue. Stop. I don't have enough energy to stay visible too long. Just please." She reached out to Blue and touched her face gently, but the sensation for Blue was like spiderwebs of electricity and before she could even scream again she was out. Yellow was the first through the door, stopping in her tracks as she saw blue on the floor with a transparent white sobbing over her. They locked eyes for a few seconds before she vanished and yellow knelt beside her, taking her hand and patting it gently. "Blue?!" The anger and hurt were set aside for a while as Blue came around. "Yellow..." She whispered as she rested her head on Yellows chest. "White was.. " Yellow hushed her, holding her close. "I know. I saw her too. It's going to be okay."she took advantage of Blues sudden need for her and held her close, knowing this would neither last long, nor happen again for a while. Pink appeared shortly and looked down at them. "What happened? Are you okay Blue? Do you need anything? " blue smiled weakly up at her. "Just a drink. I...dont want to be alone right now. I....saw a ghost. " tears sprang to her eyes and she sobbed into Yellow. Pink gasped and ran to get her a cold drink. Yellow picked her up and carried her back to the set where they had comfortable furniture. She sat on the fainting chair and held Blue in her lap. "She was trying to apologize but I just couldn't stand to see her." Yellow sighed deeply as Pink came back with her drink and that was the end of her physical contact with Blue. She frowned subtly and looked away. “i don’t know how to fix this. hopefully because you got the gist of what she was saying, she’ll be able to move on.” Blue looked up at her for a moment, feeling as though Yellow were hiding something, but she’d let it go for now.

Later Yellow sat alone on a park bench, clutching a crumpled up letter. “okay i’m here...” from the tree in front of her, the two acrobats known as Blue and Yellow Pearl landed. “how the fuck do you keep finding this shit out?! and why do you want Blue so bad that you want me to keep hurting her for you to be silenced?!” Blue Pearl, the normally silent one, spoke softly. “quite simply, we have a suicide pact. and the only thing left on our list before we die is to fuck her. buuuut.” She turned to Yellow Pearl, going up onto her toes and spinning slowly like a music box. Yellow was always slightly impressed by their seemingly supernatural abilities to balance and bend. it made her sad to see such talent lost on two women so sick. Yellow Pearl finished for her, tossing a little bag with a white substance. “we want her to leave you organically, if you break up with her she’ll pine away and probably kill herself. then we wouldn’t get to have any fun with her. see White’s mistake was the idea that she could drug and rape her into submission. we want her to fall for us. to want us. and as long as she doesn’t know who we really are it’s entirely possible.” Yellow was growing sick. both at the drug in her hands, and the words they were saying. she knew then that she was right to have White killed. she grimaced at the thought of what Blue probably went through in just the short time she was with her. then her focus turned to the bag. her heart began to pound. it had been over a years recovery the first time and she’d told herself she’d never do it again, especially not because she had Blue. but now to keep her, she was prepared to do anything. but she knew this wouldn’t be enough. once she started again it would quickly snowball. “i can’t take it alone. i need Molly too.” Blue giggled. “we like Molly. you’re in luck. but you’ll owe us.” Yellow bit her lip, feeling the bile rise in her throat. “okay. just...please don’t tell her.”

Steven was worried by three am when she hadn’t returned. he called Blue but she hadn’t seen her since they left the theater. then he got a call that scared the hell out of him. “Blue i’m sorry. okay i had your bitch ex killed. it doesn’t matter who. i can’t keep doing this.” Steven decided then and there to put the tracker back on her phone. “Yellow, this is Steven, where are you and what have you taken?” Yellow broke down into sobs. “some park. i don’t know. they gave me coke and some molly. i want whiskey. bring me a bottle of whiskey and a hand gun. i’m gonna end it. Blue doesn’t deserve this. you don’t deserve this. why am i alive?! why did i hide my knife?!” Steven was in tears at this point. “Just tell her everything tomorrow. losing her that way is a hell of a lot better than this.” Yellow curled up on the park bench as they watched. they’d been there for hours with her, taunting her, trying to get her to kill herself in various ways. Yellow Pearl saw a car drive by with a phone lighting a mans face. “he’s found her.” she quickly injected Yellow with something that made her still almost instantly before dashing away. Steven didn’t even turn the car off as he threw it in park and bolted over to her. “Yellow?! fuck! answer me! Yellow?!” He smacked her hard in the face to try to elicit a response and when he got none he looked around. fortunately she’d left the syringe behind and he was able to rush her to the hospital.

the next morning Yellow woke to another hard smack in the face followed by her sister’s screaming. “you stupid bitch!” she attempted to fend off another. “how could you do this again?! do you really want to end it so bad that you’d do this to her?! i thought you were...!” Blue’s voice entered the fray and Yellow broke down. “That’s quite enough Pink. this isn’t how you handle these things.. i understand you’re angry and you have every right to be, but violence and screaming won’t help her.” Pink turned to her. “you didn’t see her last time! you didn’t call 911 while praying to every god that she’d survive! you weren’t there to clean up the blood when she slit her wrists! Dad and I were!” Blue was quiet. “i wasn’t. you’re right. but i had a very close friend die in my arms from a heroin overdose in highschool. and i wish i had been nicer to her. my aggression pushed her over the edge.” tears formed in her eyes. “Yellow...why? is this why you’ve been pushing me away? i wish you had told me.” Yellow couldn’t speak she was sobbing too hard. she wanted to tell Blue everything. Pink looked down, tears in her own eyes. “i’m sorry Blue. i think i should go now. i just wanted to make sure she was going to be okay.” Blue smiled and hugged her tightly. “you’re a way better person than me. because i love her through all her stupidity but i don’t always like her. now is one of those times.” Blue didn’t let go of her. “no matter what happens to yellow and i, promise we’ll still be friends.” That cut Yellow deep.”i promise. i love you Blue. you’re like a sister. i loved you the second she brought you home to meet us. i knew you were going to be a great addition to the family even back then.” with that she looked back to Yellow one more time with a heavy frown before leaving. “she really knows how to cut.” Yellow finally choked out. "i’m sorry Blue. you deserve so much better.” Blue sat beside her. “i think the two of us need to sit down and talk about things.” Yellow stared at her for a long moment. “i don’t understand. why do you still want me? i’ve cheated on you. i’ve hurt you...you’re so much better than me.” Blue slowly climbed into bed beside her and laid her head on Yellow’s chest, tears welling in her eyes. “because before you i thought i was nothing. i thought i wasn’t worth loving. even before White i had really terrible relationships. abusive in some way or another.” she closed her eyes. “i’ve missed feeling you beside me. i confess...i’ve had another woman with me. not...exactly that way. she really likes me. and i kind of like her. i’ve just been going crazy without you. we haven’t even kissed...” Yellow bit her lip. “i’m sorry.” Blue looked up. “why? i feel like...” Yellow leaned down and kissed her deeply. “i’m sorry that i’m a jeaous wife and i haven’t been cheating on you. i lied. but there’s something going on and i can’t tell you. but i want you to keep that woman there, whoever she is. if things happen between you than it’s my fault for not being there. just...stay safe okay? don’t answer the door if you’re not expecting someone unless you know who it is. if i can get this under control i’ll come back and never ever let you go again.” Blue sat up, looking into her eyes for a long moment. she’d lied to call Yellow out on her bluff, and it worked. but now she had more questions. she decided she’d let it go for now. “go on.” Yellow sighed. “go back home. i’m just going to lay here and cry for another six hours until they let me go. i didn’t do too much really. they want me to go to rehab but there’s no way i’m leaving you completely alone for three months.” Blue frowned deeply. “i worry Yellow. i’m not inherently against drugs. but some of them scare the hell out of me and coke is one of them. and what the hell did you shoot up?!” Yellow grimaced. she didn’t know. the doctors hadn’t told her because they assumed she knew. “i didn’t. my dealer did. i have no idea what it was...”

she laid back on Yellows chest and closed her eyes again. "Please go to rehab. I'll make sure I'm not alone. It sounds like he was trying to kill you. When Steven called me, I rushed over because we weren't sure you'd live. They had you on all kinds of wires and a breathing tube. They wouldn't let me in at first. It wasn't until they put you in a room. I...ive been here with you all night. I just went to get coffee. Sorry about your sister..." Yellow chuckled a bit. "It's okay. She doesn't know anything. All she knows is I'm cheating on you and I'm suddenly back into drugs that almost killed me. I was so bad Blue. By the end of it I just couldn't stop. I went to rehab three years in a row. And it finally was just too much. I came home, took a bunch of pills, drank a bottle of jack, and slit my wrists. She has every right to be pissed at me. It was a hard time for the family in general. They were trying to make me religious but by that point I'd just lost everything." Blue frowned and squeezed her hand gently. "I'm so sorry." Yellow nuzzled her softly. "I love you so much Blue. Spend some time with her. After last time I'm sure she's really hurting. And I'm not gonna make her happier. But if you could tell her that I'm sorry." Blue nodded and kissed her deeply. "I'm only leaving because I unfortunately have something important to do. But I will be back." Yellow paled as something dawned on her and she grabbed Blue’s arm before she could leave. “oh my god i’m so sorry.” Blue looked away and sighed. “it...it is what it is. it’s not as bad as you think. i found someone to fill in for you until you can come back. i discounted the tickets too. just because everything is so...well i certainly won’t be kissing her. i just want you to get better Yellow. i won’t pretend i’m happy. i’m an emotional wreck without you. i’m sad, i’m scared, i’m hurt, i’m angry, i’m worried.” she took Yellow’s hand and squeezed it. “the amount of support we’ve gotten outweighs the bad. so i’ll tell you what? you go to rehab and i’ll have your sister and her girlfriend and maybe this understudy move in until you come back.” Yellow shook her head. “i do it without. it’s going to hurt like hell but...i just need to settle something first.” she watched as tears formed in Blue’s eyes and her heart broke as she felt Blue break away from her. she left without so much as a goodbye. Yellow bit her lip, fingers digging into the bed as she stifled a scream.

two women found Blue sitting alone outside of the theater that evening. One dressed in white, the other in black. at first she thought they were children, but as they approached the age showed in their faces. She shivered as she saw the one in white because she was so ghostly pale it was almost as if the dress were a part of her. otherwise it was clear these women were twins. “you look lonely.” the one in black spoke. she seemed friendly, but the other one was simply staring at her. “i guess i am.” Blue looked up. they seemed familiar. “I’m Marissa and this is my wife Claira.” Blue was taken aback. Wife? but every feature was identical down to the horrifyingly pale skin and ice blue eyes. their blond hair was even the same length and cut. “i thought you were sisters.” Claira giggled. “we are.” Blue had a sinking feeling. she wasn’t one to judge relationships. coming from a very religious back ground herself, she knew what it was like to be called sick and the like. sometimes by her own family. by the time she left her home town to move to middle of nowhere Kansas, only her mother would talk to her once a year. But something unsettled her about this. “Claira we’re not supposed to scare her away. you know that’s not normal.” Blue bit her lip. “it...it’s okay. i mean you’re adults right? and you love each other? you’re not being forced?” Marissa shook her head. “we’re almost forty. we’ve been in love our whole lives. we thought about trying other people. but no one quite fits us like we fit each other. anyway, we just wanted to see if you were okay. we live in those apartments over there. and we noticed you sitting alone. where is your beautiful wife?” Blue broke down. “in the hospital. and i just don’t want to go home to that giant empty house alone again.” She knew she had made a mistake then. Claira smiled brightly at her and offered. "You can come home with us for a little bit. We'll cook you dinner and maybe put on a movie. What do you say?" She giggled as she reached a hand out to her. Blue but her lip. She'd seem rude if she turned them down, but they were creeping her out and she didn't want them to follow her. She nodded slowly, taking her hand and standing. but the longer she was with them, the more irrationally scared she got until suddenly a horn beeped to her left. “yellow?!” Yellow had pulled up next to her in Steven’s car. “when did you get out?” She waved to the two before getting into the car. she gave a startled yelp as Yellow sped away, glaring at the women as she passed. “stay away from them!” Blue was completely distraught as she quickly pulled her seatbelt on. “what’s going on?! how do you...?” Yellow slammed on the breaks at a red light and looked over at her. “those are the acrobats! those women have been blackmailing me for weeks with drugs! listen...i’m taking you home and then i need to tell you some things.”

but they didn’t go home. they pulled up at an unfamiliar apartment.”Yellow...where are we? this isn’t home.” Yellow sat there for a moment as though in heavy thought. “it’s Steven’s place. i didn’t think you should be alone.” Blue started to get uncomfortable. the voice had changed. “you’re not Yellow...” Yellow turned to her for a moment before getting out of the car. “we’ll talk inside. come on.” Blue followed her. that’s when she started to notice. In the darkened car this woman was almost indistinguishable from her wife, but now in the street lights of the apartment complex, she realized with horror that this wasn’t Yellow at all. it hadn’t occurred to her that this woman’s hair was a darker shade and had no visible signs of bleaching. “who are you?” the woman turned and spoke again, though Blue could see an internal struggle going on. “you know who i am Blue. i’m sorry. i just...those women are bad news. i had been dating Pink for quite some time before all this. and they called me. they’ve been watching you for years.” she clutched her head and stumbled. Steven growled as he ran over. “you! give me...” He stopped as Blue turned to him, eyes wide. she wasn’t breathing. White chuckled. “sorry. i had to borrow your car. those bitches were about to drug Blue and...” she threw the keys to him. they watched as a white mist left the woman’s body. she screamed as she looked between the two of them before running off. Steven had bigger things to worry about. “Blue...” he snapped his fingers, gently touching her face but she was too far gone. he sighed softly as he caught her. “rest...i’ll make sure you’re safe.” He bit his lip as he watched her fall limp in his arms. “what the hell is going on?” he carried her up to the apartment and put her to bed. after covering her he brushed her hair out of her face. “sorry yellow...but i’m telling her everything i know tomorrow.”

The next morning blue woke with a scream. She had no idea where she was and she sprang to her feet as the door opened. “Steven?!” she began to sob. He sat beside her and took her hand, pulling her gently back onto the bed.. "It's gonna be okay. " she pulled away from him with a startled gasp and shivered. "I don't trust you! " he bit his lip. "You'll have reason for that when I'm done. But first, come out and I'll make you breakfast. Or you can cook if you really don't trust me. Whatever is going to make you more comfortable." blue stared at him a moment before getting up. He followed her to the living room and they sat down together. "Thank you for the offer, however I'm much too upset to eat right now. You and yellow have been keeping secrets from me and I need to know what's going on. I know you aren't together...but I also experienced your feelings for her. She's mine okay? Why do you even hang around if you know she won't ever be with you? " He nodded before looking down. He clutched his pants as he fought back tears. Something he'd been doing a lot of lately. "Because I know eventually I'll find the woman for me. Yellow and I have been really close friends for thirty years we had our downs, our falling out. But being friends is far more important to me than any other kind of relationship. I know she's happy with you... " blue stared at him. She really didnt get it. She'd never known a man who had romantic feelings for a woman to stay just friends with no hope of being together. he looked up at her with a deep frown. “listen...if you want to go to the cops after this i get it, just please hear me out first.” Blue stood and Steven shook his head. “please sit down. i’m not going to hurt you Blue. i just don’t want your marriage to go to shit this way.” She slowly sat back down. “if you even try....” he nodded. “i have nothing on me. listen...Yellow has gotten herself into a lot of trouble.” Blue huffed, looking skyward for a moment before nodding. “i figured that out...” He sighed. “it’s pretty typical for her honestly. i love her but before you...anyway. you may have figured out by now that White didn’t kill herself...” he waited for her reaction. she stared at him, the wheels turning in ways they hadn’t before. she hadn’t questioned it honestly. “well even if you didn’t...the thing that Yellow has gotten herself into trouble over is the fear of losing you because she had me kill White.”Blue gasped a hand coming to her mouth. he didn’t move or speak for a long moment as she trembled, her breathing shallow. finally he snapped his fingers. she bit her lip,returning them. they did this for nearly five minutes before she could get a handle on it. “Yellow has been blackmailed by those creatures. they’ve been giving her the drugs and telling her to take them or they’ll kidnap you and hurt you again. i’ve been going behind her back to try to find them so i can kill them...” Blue looked away. “they live across from the theater...” Steven’s eyes widened. “what?” she nodded. “Whites ghost was there last night. i just kind of sat on the steps. i’ve been so lost without her. i’ve been terrified she’ll turn up dead and i’m angry she suddenly seems so distant. when i need her the most she’s just....gone. and then lyeing to me about the two of you and...” tears welled in her eyes and she burried her face in her hands. he slowly moved closer and wrapped his arm around her. he was surprised she not only let him, but leaned into him. “was she so far gone? was she so twisted that you had to kill her?” he nodded. “there were some things i didn’t tell Yellow and if you want to cooberate them with Pink you can. do you want to know?” Blue looked up and shook her head. “right now i just really want to go home. we can talk about this later right?” he nodded. she got up slowly and looked down at him. “i don’t at all condone this.” he grimmaced. if she only knew how much blood was on his hands... “i understand.” she looked away. “i might go to the cops.”Steven sighed softy. “i know. but the important part...do you still love her?” She nodded, biting back more tears. “if she had killed White herself i’d still love her. i have my own fucked up past. i may not have actively tried to kill myself but i did wreckless things and i prayed every night and every morning that today would be the day. this would be it. i’d become normal or i’d be murdered. Yellow makes me want to live. i know how unhealthy that is and i don’t care. she is my everything and it’s because of her that i might not go to the cops. so just please take me home.”

The drive home had been awkward to say the least. Neither spoke until Blue got out of the car. She had calmed considerably in the thirty minute drive. "Thank you. I do want to talk to you but I really need some time to think..." he nodded. "I just want you to know Blue, whatever you think of me, I have your best interests in mind. If I hadn't found out the things I had, I wouldn't have killed her. But what she had planned...you need to know but not right now. Go rest and call me when you're ready. I'm going to be keeping Yellow at my place for a while. You don't want to see her on drugs. It's really bad and the withdrawal is even worse. But I've helped her through this before so I know what to do. I'll make sure she comes home in one piece okay?" Blue nodded and went inside. She thought to argue but she needed time away from Yellow too.

"Blue. We need to talk. Get up." She heard whites voice. "You're dead..." there was an exhaustive sigh and a hand roughly shaking her. "I'm aware, thank you. But we need to talk." Blue opened her eyes for a moment but she was so tired she couldn't hold them open. "I'm so tired." She suddenly felt whites body press against her. "You know even in this form if I use enough energy I can rape you..." Blue screamed and bolted up, turning to the grinning figure. "That got you up..." Blue narrowed her eyes and stumbled backwards. “BITCH!” White laughed. “yeah i know. will you sit down and listen now?” Blue sighed deeply and cautiously sat back on the bed. “Steven told me some things...” White sighed. “yeah well that’s not what i’m trying to tell you. those women have been after you for a lot longer than even i realized. they called me.” Blue stared at her. "What....do you mean they called you? How would they know?" White nodded. "I didn't ask questions. But now I know. They look stupidly young but they're 39. Identical twins...lovers If you hadn't already figured it out. And they've tried to get you into bed from the moment you got to this shitty town." Blue stared at her a moment. "How do you know all this?" White snorted. "I'm dead honey, there's nothing I don't know now past present or future. It's a fucking trip. But that's not important. What is, is that I wronged you in so many ways. And I need to fix it before I move on. Because once I'm over there I don't get to come back. And...im not ever going to see you again." Blue gasped and tears came to her eyes. "White i..." She shook her head and looked away. “i can’t talk about that and the less you know the better anyway. just know that i’m honestly getting what i deserve and it has nothing to do with you. so don’t blame yourself or anything okay? but we’re getting off track. you need to stay away from them. it’s some sick game to them. and if you go with them it will destroy you. way more than anything i did. i’m so sorry that i hurt you. and what i need now is to see that you’re safe while those things are about, and to hopefully gain your forgiveness.” Blue looked away. “i can’t forgive you right now. but thank you for....” she turned to look back but White had gone again and she broke down in tears once more.

Blue felt like she was walking into a trap as she went back to Steven. He was shocked to see her at his door but he pulled her inside quickly and sat her down. She was even more pale than usual. “Blue? What’s wrong?” Blue sighed softly as the tears started.”i want to trust you. i don’t understand you but i want to trust you...” Steven took her hands and looked into her eyes. “if there’s anyone in this world you can trust beside Yellow, it’s me.” Blue looked down. “but...i don’t know anything about you. you’ve known her longer than i have and she never once mentioned you. there has to be a reason for that. she must not trust you.” he let go of her hands. “or she doesn’t want to scare you. listen, i’m going to tell you some things about me and you’re not going to like them. it started with Yellow herself. i was raised by three amazing women and from a very early age they tought me about religion and how to be a good man...but they also taught me that sometimes good people have to do ugly things. because there are ugy evil people in the world. i dunno if i’ll be forgiven for what i’ve done but i took justice into my hands when the law sat back and did nothing. she didn’t want you to run away because of me and she knew that eventually you’d find out the truth.” Blue looked up at him again. she was disheveled and warn down. “what truth? are you saying you’ve killed before?!” he nodded. “but let me explain.” she pulled her hands away and nodded. “please.” he continued to look her in the eyes as he spoke. “you know a few details already. Yellow came from a really sheltered Hindu family. her mother was very depressed and killed herself when Yellow was seven. Pink was only three and doesn’t remember any of it, but yellow found the body...”

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btsjfans · 7 years

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Class Clown Part 9

So I’ve gotten a ton of requests for part 9 which is AWESOME but I don’t want this one to end because like it was my first fan fiction ever and it’s hard to end it, so maybeeee I could do some college ones of them and then end it? I don't know tell me what you think. Anyway thank you guys so much for all the support!! So here it is, part 9, here we go.

fluffyfluffyfluffy

masterlist

Love. Lovelovelovelovelovelovelove. The word plays through your mind on repeat as you and Taehyung lay together outside. It’s 11:20pm, the stars are out, and you’re wrapped in his arms laying on an old blanket in the bed of Jin’s pickup. You two have been laying there for 20 minutes, and before that you’d been at a fancy restaurant. You two talked the night away, before wrapping up to stargaze. Today was the last day you had before you’d hear back from any of your colleges, so you two were trying to relax. Tae got up to straight A’s, and had applied to the same colleges as you, and then some. He was determined to be with you, be near you, regardless. And you, for the first time in weeks, felt relaxed. Felt loved. Felt love. You weren't focused on grades, on anything really. Just you, him, and the sky.

“Y/n?” He asks softly, his deep voice rumbling against you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you don’t want to steal the peaceful silence of the night.

“No matter what happens, like who gets in where, we’ll still be there for each other right?” You look up, and see his face, haunted by a nervous shadow.

“Oh Tae, of course.” You sit up and pull his head into your lap, playing with his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “No matter what, it’s you and I okay?” He nods and you slide back down and bury yourself in his chest once again.

Dear Miss L/n, we are pleased to inform you that..

You got 4 letters that began that way, your family was overjoyed! You got accepted to two Ivy Leagues, and two ones slightly below the Ivy’s, but one rejection.

The one you wanted most.

Yale said no.

You knew you were so lucky to get into two Ivy’s and all your backup schools, but you wanted Yale so bad. You yearned for it, it had been your dream forever. You stared at the words on the paper, ‘Dear Miss L/n, we regret to inform you that..’ You didn't get in.

One minute you’re standing at the kitchen table holding Yale’s letter, and the next you’re on the floor in a pile of tears, the letter crumbled up and tossed aside. Your mom pulls you up and hugs you, holding you tight. After a moment you silently walk upstairs and collapse in a heap on your bed.

They didn’t want you.

Dear Mr. Kim, we are pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted into Yale University, located in upper Manhattan on a half tuition scholarship.

This isn't real.

The one I least expected.

Yale said yes.

They said yes.

They wanted me.

I scream and start laughing, tears streaming down my face.

“WHAT?!” Jungkook tumbles into my room, my dad right behind him.

“THEY SAID YES! YALE SAID YES!” I yell, laughing and crying all at once. My dad and Jungkook grin before running in and hugging me, and soon we’re a big mess of arms and legs hugging and dancing together.

Who would’ve expected this? Me, Kim Taehyung, getting into one of the most prestigious schools in America? How?! I know I worked hard, but I didn't think I worked that hard ya know?

Amid the celebrations, Y/n’s face pops into my mind. Y/n. She’s the reason I can celebrate. She’s the one who made this possible. Destiny must have been rooting for us, because I have no other explanation as to how this is possible.

“I’m gonna go see Y/n, okay? I’ll be back in a couple hours.” I grin and hug my dad and brother once more before I run out and hop on my bike, zooming down the sidewalks to her house. I toss my bike on the lawn and run to the door, knocking excitedly. Her mom answers, looking tired.

“She’s upstairs, but be gentle. Yale didn't take her.” She says in a quiet, tired voice.

“W-what?” I’m taken aback by her words. That’s impossible. Y/n is the definition of a Yale student. Class valedictorian, honor roll, Beta club, etc etc. How could she not get in? How could destiny betray her? Betray us?

I walk upstairs and gently knock on the door. “Y/n?” I ask quietly and hear nothing from behind the door. I sigh and lean on the wall, willing to wait. I wait for a couple minutes before the door finally opens, and I whip around and collect her into my arms. I walk her in and close the door behind us and lean against it, holding her close. She cries into my chest and I close my eyes and play with her hair as I hold her. We stay like this for a bit before she pulls away and sighs.

“I’m sorry Y/n.” I say quietly, knowing my words can only do so much.

She stands with me in silence for a while before she says something.

“I know it’ll be okay, I got in everywhere else, I just wanted this so bad ya know? But we can still go to college together.” She smiles a little and snuggles into my arms and I swallow my guilt. She can't know I got in.

“You got in where?!” Hoseok spits out his drink at the lunch table and I hiss slapping his arm, looking around making sure he isn't causing the scene I feel like he is.

“Shut up!” I growl and sip my water.

“Why don't you want more people to know?! This is incredible!” Jin gives me an incredulous look.

“Because Y/n didn't get in!” I whisper and the three all let out a quiet ‘oh’.

“Well you two love each other right?” Yoongi speaks up after a minute.

“Duh?” I snort.

“And you’d be happy if she got in and you didn't?” I nod. “Then why wouldn't she feel the same huh? If she really loves you she’ll be happy for you and support you in this.” Yoongi huffs before taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Huh.” Hoseok muses.

“But she’s dreamed of this forever!” I protest.

“Well that dream isn't coming true anytime soon so she better accept that. You however need to accept this, going to Yale will set you for life and she of all people would know that. The original plan would’ve been you pick your backup school nearby, which is still a frickin great school, and she attends Yale, so why is this any different?” Yoongi shoots me a frustrated look and I bite my lip. He has got a point.

As we get up from lunch, a councilor grabs my hand, pulling me back.

“Taehyung, can we have a little chat?” She smiles kindly and I shoo my friends off and nod. “Well, since you’re the only student here of this class to get into Yale, we wanted to know if you’d take the title of Valedictorian and give a speech at graduation?” She beams at me, proud of how far I’ve come. I think I’ve come too far this time, I can’t take college and Valedictorian away from Y/n.

“I..I’m flattered but really I can't. Thank you so much for the offer though.” I smile and walk off down the hall, my head swimming with thoughts. How did it get this far? How did I become this person, and when?

“So I hear Kim Taehyung got into Yale,” Your friend Jack sighs as your group studies together for an AP test. You choke on your water and sit up.

“No, thats not possible. He would’ve told me.” You smile and shake your head.

“Well tell that to the councillors, that was all they could talk about this week. And they tried making him Valedictorian but he turned it down. I hear he might turn down Yale too.” Jack lazily rolls a pencil between his fingers as he skims over the page of a textbook.

“He..what?” You’re at a total loss for words. How could he not tell you? Any of this?

“Yeah, all of my AP prep class is talking about it.” Amari pipes up.

“Even you knew?!” You’re flabbergasted.

“I assumed you knew,” Amari shrugs and you groan burying your face in your hands.

“I think I’m gonna head in early, alright?” You sigh and pack up your books and head out, walking down the sidewalk towards your house.

How did Kim Taehyung, a failing student as of two years ago get into Yale, and you not? How did Kim Taehyung almost steal the title of Valedictorian from you? The title you worked day and night for as of the last 4 years? How does this kind of thing even happen? And how does he not even tell you? As you near your house you see Taehyung’s bike strewn on your lawn and despite yourself, you smile. You walk in and see Tae sitting at the kitchen table, sipping water with your mom. They both turn and smile at you, Tae standing up at your arrival.

“Y/n,” He smiles and you can't be mad at that face. He earned it. All of it.

“Hey, wanna go study upstairs?” You smile and wave to your mom who smiles and rolls her eyes waving you two off. He smiles and thanks her and you both trot upstairs.

“So when were you gonna tell me about Yale?” You smile and watch the look of shock register on his face. “Councillors are a terrible gossip.”

“Oh Y/n I’m sorry. I was gonna tell you but then I felt bad you didn't get in so I was just not gonna say anything and then go someplace either with you or nearby.” He shrugs and smiles and you smile at your sweet boy.

“And what about being Valedictorian?” You tilt your head and he groans.

“I thought it would be cruel to even consider taking that.” He sighs and looks up at you nervously.

“Oh Tae, you really are such a sweetheart.” You sigh and flop on your bed and he relaxes a little.

“So you aren't mad?” He sits criss cross on the bed.

“Of course not. I’m happy for you and I can't wait to tell all my friends that my boyfriend goes to Yale.” You grin and watch the excited and proud glow surround him as he grins.

“I did it all of you, so everybody should be thanking you for this.” He grins and leans in pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back again.

“Well, you’re welcome then.” You laugh and he crinkles his nose as he grins and you can't help but wonder how you got this lucky. You have the sweetest boyfriend in the world, you both got into really good schools, you’re Valedictorian, you have wonderful friends, and you’re life is taking off. It’s everything freshman you wanted and more.

“I love you Taehyung. I hope you know.” You smile and he grins and cups your face in his hands.

“I know angel.” He says quietly before pulling you into a deep kiss.

“Y/n, you’re gonna be late!” Your mom calls up to you. You stand in front of your mirror in your cap and gown. You’d taken a lot of time to do your hair and makeup just write, and practice your speech like 6 times. Today was the day.

You’d been working for this day for the last 4 years, and in a quick 3 hours it will be over. You’d been writing this speech for the last 4 years, and had it all ready. Written in times of success, it was a winning speech. And yet the night before you stayed up on the phone with Amari rewriting it entirely. You wanted the real high school experience in it, not written from the perspective of somebody who cruised by on good grades. Which is why you dedicated it to Kim Taehyung, who’d seen it all.

“My name is Y/n L/n, class valedictorian...” You begin your speech. Looking out into the mass of faces, you look at your classmates. Some giggle and whisper to each other, some look zoned out completely, while others pay half attention to your words. You see your friends, your least favorite people, and Taehyung. He smiles at you, his head tilted, smile boxy and wide, and skin glowing in the dim auditorium lights. You rock the beginning of your speech, but as you get to the part about Taehyung’s story you start to get nervous. “But high school isn't always as easy as some kids make it seem. Every kid has some kind of struggle; whether it has to do with home life, grades, or what. But, the beauty of high school is that at some point, we always overcome our trials at some point or another. Just like my friend Kim Taehyung.” You say and watch his jaw drop, and Jin elbow him and giggle. “He went from a GPA of 2.1, to a future Yale attendee. And we couldn't be prouder.” You say, smiling and watching Taehyung glow with pride. You continue with your speech, watching more and more students pay you more attention as your speech draws to a close. You finish and listen to the audience applaud, and some friends woop and cheer in the crowd. As you walk down the stage you feel tears well up, and you bite your lip trying to hold it back. You take your seat among your peers and dab at your eyes trying not to smudge your makeup. You look around and make eye contact with Tae who grins at you, and Jin blows a kiss from next to him, and you feel a grin overcome your lips.

“Come on get together, get together!!” You call and Tae runs over, wrapping his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder, while Jin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Amari, and all your friends crowd around you while your mom snaps pictures. You all laugh and make silly faces and smiles as different parents crowd around taking your pictures. You take a minute to look around at your friends, all laughing and smiling, and Tae’s arms wrapped around you. You never thought you’d miss high school that much, because it was just a stepping stone to get to an Ivy League, but looking back at the people around you, you don't want it to end.

“You okay Y/n?” Tae smiles and hums against your cheek.

“Yeah. I am.” You smile and kiss his cheek and run to Amari’s side to get pictures with your best friend, feat Hoseok and Tae photobombing, before it becomes yet another group picture.

“So where are you gonna go Y/n?” His deep voice rumbles against my neck as Tae and I sit together on his couch.

“I think I’m going to go to Columbia.” You say with finality.

“How far away is it from Yale?” Tae pulls away and cups your face in his hands.

“An hour and a half,” You smile and pucker your lips and he grins pulling you into his lap kissing you all over.

“Are you ready for college life?” He mumbles against your skin.

“Now I am,” You giggle and feel his hands squeeze you tight, chills going up and down your arms as Tae holds you close.

I’m tempted to write a couple more of these about their college days, and little drabbles about them going through adulthood together..sound good?

#bts #bts scenarios #bts scenes #bts scene #bts scenario #bts v #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v fanfic #bts v fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #bts v reactions #bts v scenarios #bts v scenario #bts v fanfiction

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notjustagirltattoopodcast · 4 years

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Not Just A Girl: Trailer Trash

You can listen to the fourth episode with Mimsy Gleeson here. Or you can view the footage of this interview on YouTube with English subtitles/closed captions here.

NOT JUST A GIRL: Tattoo Podcast

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT

Season 1, Episode 4: Trailer Trash

Eddy: Hello friends and welcome to Not Just A Girl, you're friendly feminist tattoo podcast. I'm Eddy and I'm back to share with you the experiences of artists whose practice is having a positive impact on tattooing. On the fourth episode, we'll be discussing painting for fun, respecting tattoo traditions and running a studio.

Before we begin, I would like to acknowledge the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people whose land was stolen and never ceded. I am honored to be on the ancestral land of the Awabakal people. I pay respect to the Elders past and present and extend my recognition to their descendants.

My guest today is someone that I have looked up to since before I even started tattooing. Um, I've loved her work and even had printouts of it on the wall above my desk. Um, her kindness, uniqueness, um, and respect for the traditions of tattooing are part of why she continues to inspire me. I have the great honor of speaking to Mimsy Gleeson today. Um, Mimsy works at her studio Trailer Trash in Brisbane. Um. Her work, as many of you would know, is probably best described as kawaii traditional. It's all bubblegum and glitter and all kinds of adorable. Um, thank you so much Mimsy for joining me today. It's so good to talk to you.

Mimsy: Hi Eddy. That was, so lovely. Thank you so much. You're amazing.

Eddy: You know, I'm one of your biggest fans.

Mimsy: I don't know what to say that was, that was really beautiful. And, um. I love your description of my style because I struggle with that myself so much. Thank you very much I'm really stoked to be here.

Eddy: Well, um, I guess to start with one of the, I guess probably most common questions, like, um, how long have you been tattooing and what did you do beforehand that led you to tattooing?

Mimsy: Ooh, yeah I struggle with this question because when I started tattooing, there was not I didn't even have a mobile phone, so I don't even know. Like I wish I had a date that I started, but basically I started working in a tattoo shop when I was 20 and I'm 43. Uh, the first year was just, you know, answering the phone and cleaning the studio. Um, so it's been over 20 years. What did I do before that? Well, I was only 20, so it wasn't a heap of time to do too much before tattooing.

Eddy: Still a baby

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, I felt like it, but I have to say, I do know a lot of people who started a lot earlier than that. So. Um, to me, I felt like that was really young to start at 20. So I really feel like I grew up in a tattoo studio. Um, but before that I tried going to uni. I studied, um, gold and silver smithing at uni. Um, yeah, at the Queensland college of art. And I really only did that because I couldn't get into the course that I wanted to do. I wanted to do fine art, um, which is just hilarious to me now because obviously that is not my jam.

Um, and I, they knew that. Um, so I, I did study a little bit at uni. Um, I didn't finish my degree. Um, uh, was partying a bit too much at that age.

Eddy: Who wants to do uni anyway?

Mimsy: Yeah, I think it would have been really valuable. I actually learnt a lot when I was there.

Eddy: That's awesome.

Mimsy: Yeah. But other than that, um, previous to that I just did odd jobs. I worked at a screen printing company, um, and I did a lot of designing for them as well for their t-shirts. Um,

Eddy: So you've always circled around creative industry, like even before you were in tattooing?

Mimsy: Well, I do a lot of like I was a checkout chick and you know, I did that, kind of worked at a sandwich bar for a couple of months. Um, but when I could, yeah. The working for the screen printing company, I think I was only 17. That was amazing because they put a lot of my designs on their t-shirts. Um, so that was, that really sparked a, um something in me I suppose. But yeah, definitely. I've always, I've always created since I was, can remember. Yeah.

Eddy: Oh that's so interesting that you worked for a screen printer cause you do so much cool merch and stuff now. Like I've got a whole bunch of your shirts at home and you're always like bringing out like interesting stuff. Like you did, um, a collaboration with a clothing label as well. Didn't you?

Mimsy: Yeah. For awhile there I did heap of stuff with Sour Puss clothing and I loved that collaboration because I love seeing my artwork on clothing, but I am not interested in marketing, marketing myself. I find that business side of things kind of boring. I just want to do the creating and then pass it to someone else. So that company was great to work for because they had the you know, they're like a worldwide company. Um, and they're so great at marketing and putting their little labels on everything. Um, so that was super fun. Yeah. I love doing that. They do dresses and shirts and shower curtains were really popular. Yes

Eddy: That's awesome.

Mimsy: That's where I knew I made it, I made it to a shower curtain.

Eddy: Your stuff lends itself so well to that rockabilly culture and that style of clothing as well. Like it's such a perfect match.

Mimsy: Yeah, I hope so. I love that style. I love that um, yeah, that sort of cheesy nineties, sort of, uh, yeah, rockabilly, psychobilly kind of style. So, yeah, it was heaps of fun.

Eddy: That's perfect. That's so good. Um, like with your kind of kawaii style that you've come to now, have you always done that or is that just something you developed over the years? Like did you always have the cute pink, bubbly, glittery kind of look in your work?

Mimsy: I probably, ah, that's a tough one. I've probably always wanted to, but never quite maybe knew how. I've always loved that style. Um, my Bible has always been a book called Hell Babies called Jun, uh, by Junko Mizuno. Um, I don't know if you've heard of it.

Eddy: No.

Mimsy: Anyway. Um, uh, yeah, I love that stuff but I also, I'm torn because I feel like that's not really taken that seriously.

So, but I love that you described my style as kawaii traditional because I really still do like to have my roots in, um, more of a traditional style as well. Um, yeah, I'm, I'm torn with that stuff, but I don't know. I don't know why I do what I do. I just, there's no thought behind it. It's all impulsive. It's just like, Oh yeah, I feel like doing this?

Eddy: That's perfect though because then it's really genuine.

Mimsy: There is no method to the madness. Honestly, every day I go for a walk and something stupid pops into my head and I'm like, Oh yeah, I've got to do this, or, yeah. Yeah, I can't, I can't stop myself once I get a silly thought in my head, I have to just do it even if it doesn't work out.

I dunno if that answered your question. Uh, it's always been an influence. Um, but yeah, like I said, I've always really admired people who could mix that kawaii traditional style, like Japanese tattooers, I suppose would be a good example. Um, someone like Sabado, back in the early two thousands, um, was doing all this epic like bodysuit work, but it was also really kawaii, like Japanese style back pieces, but it was just like a giant cat with eyelashes

Eddy: Oh my god

Mimsy: And cherry blossoms. Yeah so

Eddy: I can see traditional Japanese influence in your work, like the way that you do backgrounds and stuff like the clouds and the waves and all that.

Mimsy: I love Japanese tattooing. That's my favorite style. I don't proclaim to be able to do it or even know really hardly anything about it but to me that would be the pinnacle of tattoo style for me, is to treat the body as one canvas. And I'm just big bold work that's not necessarily anywhere near perfect, but just the overall look of a full body. Yeah. So, yeah, I love that style.

Eddy: So amazing. I love when you see um a Japanese backpiece, that's just one subject matter, but huge like a giant koi just across the whole back. It's stunning cause it's beautiful from any distance that you look at it.

Mimsy: Yeah. Yes. That would be the dream. More back pieces

Eddy: I like. I love that back piece you did. Um, that had light was it a backpiece? That's like all mermaids and like sea creatures and stuff or was it a sleeve, I can't remember now. It was like a mer. I'll find a picture.

Mimsy: I think I've done a few like that. To be honest. The idea of doing a back tattoo is terrifying at the moment I might have to wait a while to get back into that.

Eddy: Yeah, we'll ease back into it slowly. Yeah. I love how you, you do mix the cute into it. Like when Sophie and I came and got tattooed by you and you had that entire little flash sheet for us, which I've still got on my wall with all the little cat, things like those cat banana, and I got a cat lady. And Sophie got the little, um, cat makeup compact.

Mimsy: Thank you, Eddy. It's just silly stuff.

Eddy: I don't know. Like you say that your stuff's not taken seriously, but I think that there's a really important place for cuteness in tattooing because I think you know, now more than ever, women are getting tattooed far more than men. And I dunno for some, some, some women getting like big serious, like angry dragons might not be their thing, or like a big angry skull might not be their thing, but if it's something that they feel is like cute and makes them feel beautiful and adorable in their own skin, like that's really powerful for a woman like that, you're doing more than you realize.

Mimsy: That's a good way of looking at it. And I mean, obviously when it comes to that style, the, the industry has changed exponentially over the last 10 years. There's so many of us doing that style. I mean, I don't even know if I can say I do that style because there's so many people that do it way better and like really nail it and do exquisite work in that sort of genre. So I feel like I'm like, I've got to take a step back because I can't even

Eddy: You paved the way, you paved the way for cute tattoos in Australia.

Mimsy: Thank you, Eddy. You know what? A lot of people have said that to me over the years, and even though I feel obviously really uncomfortable and awkward. I also feel really, I feel really grateful and I'm proud of the next generations for being able to, um, express that to me and and I accept that now. I feel really, I'm honored and I feel like I, that's how I feel about a lot of my peers who are older than me and paved the way for me. So I really appreciate that the younger generation or the new, newer tattoo generation, um, are really respectful of people who've gone before them. So thank you.

Eddy: That's alright. I think that's a really important part of tattooing and in some groups that's been lost, like you know, the good traditions of tattooing and respecting the past and the history and how it's come to be where it is now. Like if we can't look back with respect, it's really difficult to imagine how we can look forward.

Mimsy: That's what tattooing is all about for me. That is the bottom line. That is everything is the people who paved the way for me and you. That is, that's, that's our religion. You know, this, you know, if you don't have that, you know, you're right. You've got nothing. So, yeah, I agree.

Eddy: Yeah. I remember another thing like, cause I've, I've always picked that up from from watching you just like online and just from following you and being a fan, like how much respect you have for the past. But I remember the first time I ever met you in person when I guested with you, like a million years ago now but, um, you told me that, you know like to have a good, successful tattoo career. It's not about like fame or likes or followers. It's all about like the customers and those regular customers who come back to you and showing them respect and being kind to them. And that's always stuck with me because our careers are made on those people. And without them we have nothing. And I think like that's a really important thing as well. Like that kindness to our clients.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well that's really cool that you still think of that. Um, probably my horrible voice haunting your, your brain. Um, but I do say that I'm, I say that to any, you know, tattoo apprentice or anything. The first 10 years of tattooing, I was terrible at least, and sometimes I still am, to be honest, but the thing that's always gotten me through is just the connection to my customers being super kind and polite and just the utmost respect for everyone that walks in the door if they're showing it to you.

Eddy: Yeah

Mimsy: Of course. Um, yeah. That is everything is to treat each person like they are the most important part of your life when they in your, in the, in your tattoo chair. So even though, Oh my God, I've done so many terrible tattoos, but those people in those beginning years, a lot of those custumers most of them still come in and get tattooed by me because we have, we have that connection. You know, you become family. Yeah. I strongly feel that one side of tattoo, do you your, you're in my fold. You know, you're in my circle.

Eddy: Yeah. It's more than just a customer for sure. Like because you're spending prolonged periods of time with them, like it's much more intimate and you actually get to know them as people.

Mimsy: Yeah, definitely. And that's why I don't have any friends cause I just don't really need them. I get that I get that interaction with my clients, you know, and they become my friends. Um, so that can be, yeah, that can be a bit dangerous, actually, not yeah. For me, I, I tend to lose, um social skills in the outside world because I get that from my clients. Yeah.

Eddy: It's so funny how like tattooers like a so used to just like in the tattoo shop and interacting with clients and colleagues a certain way that in the real world we're just like, I don't know. It's like there's normies and then there's us.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, I don't so much feel that, but I definitely feel hermit life and being in, being in isolation for two months, it's not a stretch for me. I love it. Yeah. I'm not, yeah. I don't really feel like I missed, um social life or going out or anything like that. I want more time. It's never enough time for me. I want to paint more. Um

Eddy: Yeah, you've been painting like mad.

Mimsy: Yeah, but it's not enough. That's all I can think about honestly. It's all I want to do.

Eddy: Amazing. But like you can do that. You don't have to tattoo all the time as well. You can just paint if you want to.

Mimsy: Yeah, well, it's been a really interesting experiment because I've always wondered if I could make a living off my art. I did that. Again,

Eddy: No quotation marks, it's art.

Mimsy: Well, I've always wondered that, and it turns out at the moment, I probably could. Um, yeah, I don't really feel like I need to go back to tattooing as extreme as I was. Um. But I can't because I have to get up every 20 minutes and make my teenage kids food. And they're pretty good, honestly. But it's hard because I get interrupted a lot, so I'm glad that they're going back to school in two weeks.

Eddy: It must be hard like you know, being a business owner, being an artist, being a tattooer, and being a mom as well as a partner an all in one thing and then just being stuck in isolation with all of these different hats you have to wear all at once.

Mimsy: Uh, I have a really amazing husband who pretty much just does everything for me and allows me to just function like a toddler most of the time.

Eddy: Pony's so lovely

Mimsy: Uh, yeah, he really just, uh, yeah, we we're a team like that. So he is so supportive of my art that he just allows me to create all day long and he runs around and does all the errands

Eddy: That's perfect.

Mimsy: And, um, all the boring like business stuff. That's, that's all him to be honest.

Eddy: That's awesome

Mimsy: Um. I do take the lead more so on, um, managing the people at the studio that I run. Um, I know that's not specifically what you asked, but I think it's interesting to note, and you might be able to relate to this. Um, I think it's really important that the person managing the people in your studio is also a tattooer

Eddy: Yep, I agree.

Mimsy: Or at least have. Or at least has been,

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: Is very strongly, passionately connected to tattooing

Eddy: Well, you can't really understand how they feel unless you've been in their shoes. Because you know, I think maybe sometimes from an outsider perspective, you might think, Oh, they're just a bunch of babies. Like, but when you're in their shoes and you feel that pressure and stress, you can understand where artists come from with certain behaviors or things they do. So it's maybe a bit easier to have empathy and to approach it in a way that they can understand.

Mimsy: And I'm sorry cause I did just change the subject that you asked me,

Eddy: No

Mimsy: But I've always felt like it's really important as someone who runs a studio to be on the front line with your crew, with your co coworkers always, I'm not a boss, I'm a coworker. I'm on the front line. And that's why as tempting as it has been over the years to not tattoo as much, um, I feel like it's really important to keep that connection and to be there most days alongside them on the same level, doing the same stuff, getting in there, cleaning, whatever, you know, you can't be, there's gotta be someone running a studio that is here with with everyone, you know?

Eddy: Yeah, I agree a hundred percent and I think artists appreciate that too. Like for myself, having worked in studios where it was a clearcut, I'm the boss you do what I say, you're less because you're a tattooer and you work for me and you rely on me. It's kind of like, it feels a little bit belittling, but when you work with someone who's also an artist, they understand you. You can communicate to each other. Like, and you don't feel like they're better than you, like you're just learning together. It's so much like, I think it's a better creative environment as well.

Mimsy: Yes. It's a co-op. We're all in it together. Um, and I really think it's the only way it could work nowadays anyway. The industry is too competitive. Um, you know, your artists could just go and work at their home and register their business at home. So what, what's in it for them if they're going to be treated like they're not on the same level you know.

Eddy: Absolutely.

Mimsy: But I didn't really answer your question. You were talking about all the hats and mum being a mom and stuff. Um, yeah, I guess I could say, you know, my kids are 13 and 15 so they're really self-sufficient.

Eddy: That's awesome

Mimsy: They really, they just want to be in their bedrooms, playing video games or watching trashy YouTube anyway. Um, but they've really, they've really grown up with me, um, being absorbed in my work. Um, and I do have a lot of mum guilt about that, which I'm sure you've probably sort of touched on that subject with other artists before as well. Um, but, um, a lot of other people I've gotten feedback about that, um, seem to think that that might benefit them later on being influenced or having a mom who is really self motivated and focused on, um, you know, providing for my family. Hopefully that will translate to them as well. Um

Eddy: Yeah absolutely. And the fact that you and Pony are able to like work together as like parents and business partners. I think that sets a really good example as well for children that, you know, um, it's, it's got nothing to do with gender. It's just like people doing what they do best and working together with their skills to create an outcome.

Mimsy: Yeah. It's quite awesome for business Biz and Lula because there are no gender roles in our relationship. Um, apart from doing the washing Pony does all of that. But yeah. Um, no we don't. Yeah. Pony has always been the Mr mom, like he ever since they were little kids, he was the one who took them to a kindy every day and hung out with the other moms and he joined the PNC. I was never on the PNC. He became the ah treasurer, I think he was of the PNC when they're in primary school and used to hang out with the other moms. And, um, uh, when my kids were really young, um, my daughter got sick and he decided, uh, we both decided that I would go to work tattooing and that he would look after my daughter. Um, so that was a role reversal because he was full time dad, you know, I was full time work, but he was still working in the business as well. Um, so yeah, that, that was a bit of a role reversal at the time. Um, I think things have changed a lot now in the world, and there's a lot more dads doing that nowadays.

Eddy: Which is amazing.

Mimsy: It's amazing. And there's no need for that. You know this. It's the ebb and flow, you know, cause one day the balance could change. It doesn't matter. Male, female. It's just about the partnership and helping each other out.

Eddy: Absolutely. Like that's the rule. My husband and I have, it's just like, you know, if I've worked a longer day, he does more of the house stuff and vice versa. Like we always try to meet each other equally and contribute equally to our lives as a whole. But it's never like a fight or an argument. It's just like you do what your part because you're a human and like nothing else matters apart from making sure that your lives run easily.

Mimsy: Yeah. Yeah. Well. You're very lucky too, because you've got an amazing partner as well, so

Eddy: He's lovely.

Mimsy: I mean, I can't really see it working any other way, and I feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have that. I suppose really, to me, it just seems like the norm. I don't really see gender roles or, you know, I don't really see any of that in my, in my world.

Eddy: Yeah. I think we're really lucky, like I think especially now in the world we're in where we can just focus more on being humans and on creating equity and not focusing on all that like bullshit that we've been programmed with and just be nice, have a good life.

Mimsy: I hope so. And it's interesting because you know, you've put together this amazing, um, movement with the, Not Just A Girl, you know, starting with the flash day and now this podcast. Um, so, but yeah, for me personally, it's, I feel weird about it because I just don't see it. Like I, I guess I'm just in my bubble and it always shocks me when I meet or see people on TV or anything like that who don't have, you know, gender equality, I suppose. So

Eddy: Yeah. We are very, very privileged to be in our little bubble where we are treated with respect and where we're safe and yeah, I think

Mimsy: That is a very good point.

Eddy: Yeah. I think, you know. Sometimes like that's because that's what we create for ourselves. Like, you know, we do have the privilege of creating that. Not everyone does, but you know, for myself, I don't allow toxicity into my life because I'm not going to have anything that's going to affect me negatively or get in the way of what I need to do. And for me, my focus is producing art and being happy. So like that's everything in my life is centered around making that happen in a positive way.

Mimsy: You're a very amazing role model when it comes to, uh, yeah the self-awareness like that. And I think you are really inspiring. And I wonder what's led you to, to that path and having such a clear vision of, um, of what you, what your beliefs are as well.

Eddy: Well, I've got a, I've got a strong, I got a very strong mom who like from a very young age, was just like you never accept anything less than what you feel you deserve. If you treat other people with kindness and you don't hurt other people, you have a right to like be respected, to be treated with kindness in return and just like respect yourself enough to demand what you deserve. And that was like the biggest thing and taking responsibility for everything you do and feel as a human like cause once you take responsibility then everything else kind of gets a bit easier to cope with. I think so. I'm very, very lucky that my mother is so strong and has set me up to a point where I can maybe try to do good for others in return.

Mimsy: Amazing. Thank you Eddy's mum, you created a beautiful human

Eddy: Big Don. Um. Yeah. Anyway, we got, we got totally off the topic, but that was lovely. I love mom.

Mimsy: I'm sorry I do that.

Eddy: It was mother's day yesterday, so happy mother's day for yesterday, by the way.

Mimsy: I got Kmart vouchers, so I'm stoked

Eddy: Awww, Kmart. Didn't you do a Kmart flash sheet one time?

Mimsy: Yeah I did

Eddy: I love um with your work, how it's just like, there's a lot of humor in it. Like there's a lot of like sarcasm and irony and like you're always kind of, even though you know, not overly like outspoken about lots of different things, you can always like just get like little hints of humor and like ideas and opinions in your work. But it's in a really like cute and easy to digest way.

Mimsy: Thank you for noticing that. That means a lot to me. Um, what can I say about that? That's my way of coping, I suppose. Um, yeah. I've never been, I've tried being a little bit of an activist about certain things over the years that I feel strongly about. Um, but I do feel like artists, um, if any, actually anyone who has an audience has a vehicle to affect people.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: I don't want to say that I have a responsibility to, cause I don't, I don't know about that. But I do feel like, you know, if, if I've got an audience, like it's, it's not much, but I have a few people following me on Instagram or you know, anyone looking at the piece of paper in front of them, you know, if I can make them think a certain way that's what it's all about to me. I just want to affect people somehow. Like when I go, see, when I go to the cinema and I see a movie, I want to come out of there feeling something. I don't care what it is. I just want to feel something. So yeah, to me, I want people to look at my art and if it makes them have just a little bit of a smile, just even a little bit, I'm like, fuck yeah or something, or sad or anything. I just want people to feel something. That's what, that's what gives me joy, I suppose.

Eddy: I think. I mean, having a message is inherent in our work. Like you said, anyone who's got an audience, it's just inherent part of it. Even if it's not what you're trying to do, you're still, even if you're not putting a message out there on purpose, it still is impacting people and influencing people in a way. But I think, yeah, your stuff definitely has that happiness, like that joy in it. Like, you know, you did a cute little vegan flash sheet cause I know that veganism is something really important to you. And at first you're like, Oh, it's just so cute. All these cute little things. And then you look at it again, you're like, Oh, it's like a vegan thing. I'm like, Oh yeah, like, and then it kind of gets that conversation going about those things and those thought processes, which is really good.

Mimsy: I like to sucker punch people, you know like do just yeah like, just shock people a little bit. If you can just do the juxtapose of things or, yeah. You look at something and think, Oh, that's so beautiful, but then if you look closer, it's actually really disturbing.

Eddy: Like your little COVID drawings you're putting up at the start of isolation I was losing my shit over that.

Mimsy: We're all fucked. You got, I mean, if you don't laugh, you cry right.

Eddy: Absolutely

Mimsy: Kind of a helpless feeling where you just got to go, Oh, well, I'm just going to do something completely fucking ridiculous because who cares anyway?

Eddy: Yeah. I think it's cool to let go of that idea of like worrying about what people think and just do something fun and ridiculous because that's what's going to lead you to something more impactful anyway.

Mimsy: Yes. It's hard sometimes to let yourself or to, yeah. To get your head around that. Um, but that's, to me, that would be the ultimate goal as an artist, is just to never have a design brief and just take, take things too far as you could and further because you're creating it. There's no, I mean, I'm talking about, you know, like not necessarily tattooing because I guess there are constraints, but you've got the ability to make something look like it's flying or, um, I dunno anything, take, take it as far as you can. If that's what you want to do, you're not confined by anything. So

Eddy: Yeah, we don't have restrictions with artists really. Like when we're creating work for ourselves.

Mimsy: That's the dream.

Eddy: Yeah. That's what I feel like, like for those of us who are privileged in this situation, to be able to get like welfare or whatever and live comfortably and not have too many stresses, you know, we can explore those things and like a lot of the people I've spoken to a realize that, Oh, Hey, after this I can actually make time for my art because I realized how important it is in my life and process. And so like coming into this new world after, you know, COVID or whatever, we can still tattoo but we can still have time for art and be a more full version of ourselves.

Mimsy: I don't know how I'm going to have time to do it all. Honestly, I, I'm scared. Yeah. I don't know. It's going to be so weird trying to fit tattooing back into my life.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: Because yeah, I'm going to have to start slowly I think

Eddy: Definitely cause I mean making art is in itself is a pretty big job.

Mimsy: Yeah. It's definitely a mental sort of a thing that's always there, isn't it? It's just always there.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: The responsibility yeah I'm not saying it's bad it's just, you know

Eddy: It's different

Mimsy: Probably been good for everyone to have a little break, right?

Eddy: Yeah, I think so. I've really enjoyed it, actually, like aspects of it, obviously. But yeah, it's, it's nice to like not be boss for a bit and just be another person who can't tattoo.

Mimsy: Yeah, yeah. Well we're all, we're all in the same boat, aren't we? Everyone's. Yeah. Um, I can't remember what I was going to ask. You can ask me something cause I forgot what I was going to say.

Eddy: Well, um one of the, one of the things like. Like, I've always wondered about, like, you know, with your studio, like Trailer Trash, it's so iconic. Um, you know, I remember when I first started tattooing, and I think even before when I was going to conventions, you know, your trailer was always the highlight you had your pink sparkly trailer, the grass, like the fake grass, the little white picket fence, the pink flamingos everywhere. Everything was just like so fun. And it's literally the only thing I remember about conventions, like the Trailer Trash thing and it was the same when I came to visit your studio when it was at Archerfield airport, like just how cute it is. Like is that, was that always the plan to have this like studio that's literally a whole other world and experience. Or it, is that just something that came about naturally, like, yeah, I've always wondered about that.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, I think it's a bit of both, to be honest. Um, I'd always wanted a fifties caravan, like obsessively, I needed a fifties caravan and I had one, I had a couple, and then I spent, I realized, I mean, I love. I love that era and I loved the caravan and I love tattooing. Hello.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: Hello. Just makes sense. Right? It was like, Oh my God, this it's in front of me like this. This is what I'm meant to do.

Eddy: It's such a perfect fit

Mimsy: I was so excited. And then the name, I mean, I don't even know if it's very politically correct, but to me the name, um, Trailer Trash Tattoos represented, uh, the idea of this is what I am, take it or leave it. I'm not saying I'm perfect. I just do me. I do trailer trash, tattoos. Like, I just, I just do like, sorry, I can't be this fine artist that you want probably it's just who I am. So it was like, I'm just putting myself out there. The way that I am, take it or leave it. Um, so yeah, when, when I got the trailer and I realized that, and then I found out that I could legally do it, um, that was pretty exciting. Uh, my dream at that point was to tattoo in the trailer full time. Um, and then my dream was to actually own a trailer park

Eddy: That's amazing

Mimsy: where it was all. I know that was my dream. So then when I started, um, when I opened the Archerfield studio, we found a warehouse, as you may remember, cause you worked there. Um, I want, I wanted a warehouse. And to set up a trailer park in the warehouse.

Eddy: It's so good

Mimsy: And so my, the only way I could do that financially was I had three three fifties trailers in the warehouse. Um, but then I realized it's not really very comfortable and no, no other artist is gonna want to do that. So there was a mezzanine level and I wanted that to overlook the trailer park. That was my dream. I wanted like a panoramic view looking down on the trailer park that was in the warehouse. But of course the reality was the window that we could cut into that wall was only so big. It wasn't, yeah. It wasn't a panoramic

Eddy: You could still see the trailer park.

Mimsy: You could. So in my mind it was this, you know, trailer park in a warehouse and I tattooed in the trailer, and then I had people tattooing on the mezzanine as well. And it was the whole yeah step into my world. Like a, like a museum, like a fifties trailer park um, all set up. And I'd be all dressed up and it'd be just the full experience. Yeah. Cause you can right, there's. Well, like who's to tell you what you can and can't do, except for the government? Of course,

Eddy: They love to tell you what you can and can't do.

Mimsy: So there was that restriction. So to be honest, that's, that's where my mindset was at it was just like, wow, I'm going to do this ridiculous thing. And of course the reality was it got whittled down to the you know, three caravans in a warehouse

Eddy: It's still worked. It's still had its impact.

Mimsy: Yeah. It was. We Pony and I, like I was saying before, we took things as far as we could, it was completely impractical. Um, yeah. And we lasted I think we were there for five or six years, which is insane, because it was in the middle of nowhere. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. It was ridiculous, and somehow, I don't know how we attracted all these incredible guests artists like yourself, and I could name 20 other artists. They will all, they all want it to be a part of this from the start they wanted a piece of this ridiculousness.

Eddy: It's so good though. I feel like it's become a part of Australian tattoo history though. Like just this crazy other world that you created.

Mimsy: I hope so but I have to admit it's gotten harder now that we're it's gotten harder for me to preserve that part of myself, but I hope to go back to it in some way.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: Yeah. It's not all written. The books aren't closed on that because there's possibility there could be a reinvention, some point in my career.

Eddy: I look forward to seeing that. But it's cool that you're able to just like go with the flow and just work with what you're given as well. Like, you know, you're in a beautiful building now, although you guys haven't had the best year with the fire and everything, but yeah, like you still always got a beautiful space to work with.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, we, when we moved there, which is in Annerly, which is about 15 minutes from Brisbane CBD, um, we were actually looking for a space that was a street shop. Uh, of course, Pony and I got led carried away by our hearts when we found this old Queenslander building and we'd moved into that space, which is where we are now. Um, so it wasn't really the plan, but to be honest, the reason we, you know, I've evolved in that direction is because of my workmates. I haven't really, um, worked with anyone who particularly really wanted to be in my kawaii bubble. I don't even know if there is anyone else in the world that would want to, because its a bit weird in there.

Eddy: You're in a world of your own.

Mimsy: The idea. Right. So the idea with this evolution of trailer trash is to include everyone. So not I, you know, not, it's not all pink and sparkly and whatever. The studio, it's more inclusive and for all, for everyone's clients as well. It's still beautiful. And my room that I work in is still pink, but the idea behind this evolution was to respect everyone that I work with in the way that I represent the studio.

Eddy: Yeah. That's so beautiful. And that's like, I think a really good example for other studios to follow that you know, it's important to be inclusive and not just like focus on your own ideas, but include everyone you work with because that creates more diversity and invites more people into the space.

Mimsy: Yeah, I always want, um, the people that I get to work with, I always want them to have their own space to create as well. I think that's really important. Even if it's only a wall or a couple of walls or a corner, everyone needs to be able to express themselves cause we're artists. Um, that's, that's how I feel. Um, so we're really lucky. Even though we did have like you were saying that you have bad luck at the beginning of the year with with our fire. Um. We're really lucky that now we have a space where a Swazi and Alegra and I all have our own room, and then we have a whole downstairs level as well. So there's heaps of space for us now, which is going to become really handy because we're all gonna have COVID safe.

Eddy: Hmm.

Mimsy: Plans going forward. So that's going to be handy for us, even though, like you said, we did experience some bad luck. Um, on the flip side, the positive is now that the studio is being renovated again after the fire, a lot of us can have our room and we've heaps of space to spread out.

Eddy: That's awesome. And you've got such a good team to work with as well. You've always got the most incredible lineup of artists at your studio.

Mimsy: Yeah, we're very lucky. We're very lucky, but also probably not just luck. Um, I'm pretty, how would you say, yeah, I'm pretty full on when it comes to two first impressions and also it takes quite a lot for me to completely trust someone. So when I put someone on full time, you know that I think that they're worthy cause I'm not mucking around. I'm 43 I've been tattooing for over 20 years. If you're, you're not going to take things seriously, or you know, be a good person is the main thing.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: That's number one.

Eddy: Absolutely

Mimsy: I'm not muckin I'm just not mucking around.

Eddy: Yeah, that's, that's good though. You go to set boundaries. I do the same here. Like my most important thing is that the person is a kind person who's inclusive and thoughtful and respectful. And then after that it's their work and how they treat their customer. And then, you know, like a whole array of other things. But everyone has to be able to work together or not at all.

Mimsy: Yeah. Yeah. It's a, it's a tricky balance, but we do it.

Eddy: It can be hard managing tattooers egos, cause we've all got them, whether we like to admit it or not. But

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, I have to say that's probably the secret of the success of the current crew that I have is that there's really not much of that at all.

Eddy: That's amazing.

Mimsy: That's just out the window, like were all just nerds or you know, just social dysfunctional people. Like they're just, there is just no ego in our studio at the moment. It's really easy to go to work every day, and I love that feeling when you just, you feel like you could go in your pajamas and no one would bat an eyelid. Do you know what I mean?

Eddy: That's the best

Mimsy: Just noone cares, all we care about is the tattooing. You know, and just looking at what each other does. And, um, yeah, that's, that's all we care about is that, that's our connection with each other. Yeah.

Eddy: I love that. When you're in a studio where everyone's looking at each other's work and enjoying each other's work, that's just like, that's the best feeling ever.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, we, weirdly enough, another great thing that came out of the fire that we had is that we all had to move downstairs. So there were, I think there was seven of us, or eight of us. Sorry, I'm really bad at remembering. We were all tattooing sort of in the same space and really closely. And I'll, cause usually I'm upstairs in my own room, so was Chantelle and Alegra and Swazi, but we all converged downstairs for a few months. And um it really bonded us. But now we're separating again cause when we're ready to be apart again

Eddy: I think customers enjoy it too when there's, um, a good relationship between the tattooers like, it makes them feel more comfortable and safe to come in as well. And like, you know, whether another tattooer comes up to them and goes, I really love the tattoo you've just got a really like enforces for them that, Oh yeah, I did, I made the right decision with this life changing thing that I've just done to my body.

Mimsy: They love it. And also you might be able to relate to this. Um, the upstairs level of trailer trash is all girls and it didn't intend to be that way. It just evolved that way and it's been so great, like a lot of our, well, not just female customers. A lot of our customers just feel so relaxed and just, yeah. I mean, there was no ego anyway, but there's definitely no ego when you're. I don't know, it's been, it's been so good and just so easy.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: Do you have any comments on that? Is that a tricky subject?

Eddy: No, like I think it does change the dynamic. Like I, in the last year I was at STR, I worked with two guys or three guys, sorry, who were amazing and there wasn't any issues with them at all. Like I absolutely loved working with them, but then when I came and opened FLT, I had no intention of like hiring only like female identifying people. But that's just what happened. And even though I loved working with these boys, working with just the girls for a while, it was actually like really a welcome change. Like again, I don't judge people on their gender or anything like that, but it just was different. Like, you know being able to come to work and not really worry about what I was wearing, how I looked. I could talk about menstruating and like PMS and all of those things that I felt awkward talking in front of other people about. But then suddenly it was just like everything's on the table. And then it was like there were no walls anymore.

Like talking about all kinds of personal things, like there's no such thing as too much information anymore. We're just so comfortable. And that made our customers more comfortable as well. And so even though now we've got Paul working with us, I'm like, it still hasn't changed. Like he's just fit into that, that thing like that, I guess new vibe where it's just all about being yourself, being comfortable, being honest and not competing, not trying to have this like weird bravado or anything like that. And it's made work coming to work so much more pleasant.

Mimsy: Hmm. Amazing. And it is a tricky subject though, cause I think you actually used to get asked that a lot before you had, is it Paul before you had, yeah, it is a tricky subject. And like I was saying, to be honest, it was really refreshing going back downstairs and working with all the guys again as well. Yeah, I'm the same. It doesn't matter. I don't care. It's your personality that the clincher it doesn't matter. But

Eddy: People really grasp onto it though. Like we were always like, Oh, you're the girl shop, aren't you? And I'd just be like, no, we're the tattoo shop, we happen to identify as women, but we are tattooers. Tattooers first and foremost. None of the other stuff matters. But people would really like get funny about it. Like we had one guy who canceled, um, a full day appointment when he found out there was no men here because he didn't he didn't feel comfortable being tattooed when there were no men around.

Mimsy: Whoa.

Eddy: Yeah. And we had,

Mimsy: I don't know, I mean, I guess he can't judge like can you, cause maybe that's a valid feeling that someone has.

Eddy: Yes, It's really interesting that like that toxic masculinity, that that idea of like he could not trust women to do as good a job as as men. And cause the way he worded it, that's what it had actually come down to. Like, I do find that I've had a few incidents like that where it's like, people were shocked that like, you know, they would often ask me if my husband was running the studio with me. Like as if I couldn't do it without a man behind me. Or like, I dunno, like, well I'm safe in my world and I'm not judged on based on my gender, I'm only judged on my abilities. You know, it's interesting people who are outside my little social circle coming in and being like, Oh, why aren't they boys here? Like, you know, it's a different tattoos shop, it's just a tattoo shop. You know? No one questions, whether it's okay for a woman to go and get tattoed at a shop where only men are working, but then we would always be like, Oh, what are men allowed to get tattooed at your shop because there's only a female tattooers. And I'm like ofcourse everyone is welcome here. You're all safe. You're all welcome. Please come. But please treat us with respect to, but yeah

Mimsy: I know that feeling really well, but I guess I'm kind of shocked that that is still happening so much. When I started tattooing, because I was only 20 so I looked like I was 10 I was so young. But then people that walked in the shop I think it was probably women too, probably. Um, yeah. They wouldn't take me seriously. That'd be like, Oh, I was one of the guys here

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: To talk to. That was a combination of me being female and young, so I get, I get the inexperienced thing. Yeah. I'm a bit shocked that that's still a thing. I don't, I don't really come across it anymore myself, but I wonder if that's just because I just, I mean, you're the same though. I just have a zero patience for that at all, and I think I put that vibe out there so strongly because I've been in the industry so long, I'm really confident with people who are going to act like that and I just, they just don't last very long around me, I suppose.

Eddy: I think the way that we come across on social media, we attract the kind of customers who are going to treat us with respect. Like. I think when they take a look at our work or our social media or whatever, like they know that they're not going to get away with that. You know, like on my bio, it's hashtag feminist, you know, so they know that it's not going to fly here, but it's see and that's where I can't tell if it's happening less or it's just that I'm not attracting those kinds of clientele anymore. But like, I remember the first time I really noticed the difference. Like I always knew that, you know, I was always asked if I was the receptionist and all that, but I remember one time I went to a customer with a design and they were like, this is terrible. I want this and this and this changed. And I explained to them from a technical point of view why these things wouldn't work as a tattoo and what we would do instead and what their options were. They were like, no. No, I want what I want. And then my colleague, um, Drew came over and repeated exactly what I said, and they were like, Oh, yeah. And he just turned around and he was like, what the hell, yup, that's what it's like.

Mimsy: Yeah, I'm sure. Yeah. I'm sure it probably still. Yeah. I mean, let's, let's get into it. I feel like the tattoo industry is still, females are still very underrepresented. Um, in this industry. So I suppose that's kind of related, it's all, it's all connected, isn't it?

Eddy: Yeah. That's why I wanted to do this because I've been in isolation. I've been listening to podcasts, and there's some amazing podcast out there that I've really enjoyed, like tattoo themed ones. But the vast majority of the people who were being spoken to are white cis-het men. Like they're just. It's bro culture and I can't relate to that, and it's great that they've got a platform, but we would also like a platform.

Mimsy: Yeah. Thank you, Eddy. That's awesome. It's always been something that's really bothered me in this industry. I remember the first tattoo convention I went to. They had a press conference, um, at the beginning of it, which is weird. I didn't know they did that. They had a panel and there was media there and stuff, and there were 10 people on the panel representing the tattoo convention, not a single female on the panel. And I just was watching this thinking, there's nothing for me here. I this. Yeah. And anyway, even now. It really irks me. There's so many things, like, you know, art shows, for example, to tattoo art shows that, and they're not, they're not like um meant to be a particular thing, but you'll see a lineup of 40 artists tattoo artist and maybe there's one more two females on there. I mean, what's with that?

Eddy: Yeah. It's like you've got your token woman to shut them up.

Mimsy: Yeah

Eddy: But yeah,

Mimsy: I mean, if you have to go out of your way and represent fairly, if you don't know any female tattooers that you can invite, you know, if, if your circle of friends is all male and you're organizing this art show or whatever. Well guard or some trouble and get some more females on there. Like why wouldn't you?

Eddy: Yeah

Mimsy: It's just weird. It's weird to me.

Eddy: We need to be more inclusive. Like it's the only way to make people feel more comfortable and safe. And I think as well, like the more inclusive we strive to be, the less we're going to see issues with abuse and stuff in the tattoo community be that of artists or clients.

Mimsy: Oh, that sounds, that sounds like a can of worms that I don't know about.

Eddy: Yeah. Let's not go down that route. But yeah. But I feel like there are some conventions. Like going back to the convention thing, like there are some where they're trying to be more inclusive. Like, like we both love the New Zealand. Um, tattoo and art festival, cause that does I as a woman there, I don't feel objectified. And same as Literary Ink, um, in Chattanooga in Tennessee. Like that was one, it was probably the most inclusive and safe convention I've ever seen in my life.

Mimsy: Wow. It looks amazing. Okay, so cool. Yeah. I've never thought about feeling objectified, but maybe that's because I'm usually like in like with my trailer all trashed up. Maybe I objectify myself in some weird way. So I don't know.

Eddy: You're in your little bubble.

Mimsy: Yeah. Yeah. I don't know. The pendulum has swung so far on one side, for all of humanity

Eddy: Yep

Mimsy: If it swings a little bit too much this way for a while. That's the way it's meant to be maybe so that seeing things can come back here.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: But if it has to swing a bit this way for women for a while. It's because it's swung that way.

Eddy: Yeah. I think that's the only way to achieve true equity anyway. Like you can't just suddenly turn around after years of like you know, inequality and oppression and whatnot, and just be like, okay, now we're going to treat everyone equally. No, you've got to like first raise women up raise trans and non binary people up and give everyone an equal footing to then start from and to go from there and yeah. That's, I'm seeing more and more groups generally, but in tattooing where they actually fighting for space and for a platform to say, no, I'm going to be heard from now on.

Mimsy: Wow. Sounds amazing.

Eddy: It does let's hope that like, you know, in, in 20 years time, like people coming into the industry are all treated with much more kindness and equality and not mistaken for a receptionist.

Mimsy: It's hard to imagine what the tattoo industry would be like in 20 years time, isn't it?

Eddy: Yeah. Well, I guess that would be a good. A good question to finish on, like what would you like want to impart on future tattooers or even like people recently coming into the industry, like from your 20 years of experience and seeing things change so much, like what would you love to see people bringing into it moving forward.

Mimsy: Well, firstly, I guess I have to comment that my 20 years is a drop in the ocean. I feel like I'm only half way to earning some kind of a respect as being like a, you know, uh whatever, whatever you want to think of it. Um, because I look up to tattooers who've been tattooing for 50 40 50 years, and they're the people who I go, wow, you know, you've paved the way. So I don't feel like 20 years is anything, but anyway, what would I, what would I impart.

Just, yeah. Just to respect the people who've, who've gone before you and to, to understand that. And, uh, it's, I can't, I can't relate to the newer generations. I just can't because I, yeah I didn't even have a mobile phone until I was 25. Like I'd already been tattooing five years, so there was no Google or anything like that. It's really hard for me to relate to the younger generations or people who are coming into tattooing, but I guess, you know what it just comes down to is just be passionate about it. Just be obsessed with it and love it. Otherwise. Just don't bother, um

Eddy: It's almost like it's almost like a kick in the kick in the back or something when they don't love it.

Mimsy: Well, yeah, you mean the, I, I'm not don't want to judge anyone, but I just think if you, if you love and are passionate enough about something. Then you will research it properly and treat it with, with the care that it deserves. This craft that has been handed down person to person needs to be kept and treated really carefully and gently and, um, with respect. And that could be, that could mean so many things. But I dunno, I just stay connected and um, yeah, it's, stay connected to you to your pencil and your paper as well, and not just your iPad maybe as well. Um,

Eddy: You do get a disconnect with the iPad, I think, like I was using iPad almost exclusively for about a year. Like I just kind of eventually slowly went over to that and then in isolation started sketching in my sketchbook again and it was just like, I guess this cause it's so much more tactile and there's like a transfer of energy or something and just the feeling of the tooth of the paper under your pencil. There's something special about that that we should definitely never lose.

Mimsy: Well, don't get me started on the iPad. All it's done is confused my brain. I've got one, I think it was probably just over a year ago, and what has happened to me is exactly what I thought would happen. Now I'm just stuck in like a limbo between two worlds because you're right. I feel like you need to just work on the iPad for a long time to master it or to be any good at it. Um, to just dabble in it like I really can hardly do anything on it, but if I'm on the iPad for a prolonged amount of time I'm so disconnected from painting and drawing. That's really hard to get back into that.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: So to do, to do both is really hard and confusing.

Eddy: Yeah. I think there's definitely a place for both, but I think it's, if it's possible, like not losing a connection with just pencil and paper, I think will help people and their art making so much more.

Mimsy: I guess so, but I would never want anyone to feel like I'm judgy or like have a preconceived idea of what an artist should be either.

Eddy: Yeah.

Mimsy: You write your own book when it comes to that. But, um, I guess I can only just say from my own sort of perspective, maybe that's my advice to myself. I don't know if I can give anyone any advice that would, that would seem like I'm some kind of a, um yeah like, like, I know what I'm doing.

Eddy: We're all just like chickens with our heads chopped off, running around trying to figure shit out.

Mimsy: Pretty much.

Eddy: Oh, it's been so good talking to you.

Mimsy: Thank you Eddy. It's been great. Even just to see your face and have a chat too. Cause you know, I don't really talk to many people nowadays.

Eddy: I think the last time I saw you was in New Zealand last year.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, we'll see if it's on again this year. Were you booked to go?

Eddy: Yeah, I was, I was going to take, um, some of the crew as well this time and

Mimsy: It was going to be November. But yeah, I mean, I think we'll be lucky if it is on hey.

Eddy: Yeah. If not, it'll happen again.

Mimsy: Um I was meant to be tattooing in Melbourne last weekend too, so I'm wondering, yeah, I'm wondering if our borders will reopen, but I don't want them to reopen until it's safe though.

Eddy: Yeah. Exactly. It's like, you know, part of you is like desperate to be able to travel and do all the things you used to do, but then you kind of like people safety is actually more important right now.

Mimsy: Yeah, I'm not, I'd rather just stay here in my office and paint everyday, I feel bad cause I've still got, you know, deposits from 20 people who have booked in with me in Melbourne. So it's just, that's how, that's why I feel bad and I'm going to get down there

Eddy: Yeah, you'll get there eventually.

Mimsy: Yeah. Well, thank you so much for including me in your amazing podcast, and I wish you all success in the world with this Eddy. It's a really great way to reinvent, um, the Not Just A Girl concept. Um, and you know, I'm really grateful that we ha, you know, in Australia we have you as our icon for. For that, and you really are, you really become that for us and you, you become a real leader and someone who inspires. Um, and that's really important and just, I have to say you're really brave as well for doing that. Um

Eddy: I just feel like I'm doing what I need to do. Like, just want to uplift other, other women, other people, like just want to do my bit to make tattooing happier and safer.

Mimsy: It's amazing that you feel that calling and that you're acting on it because that does take a lot of bravery to physically go out and do something about it. And you know, we owe you a lot for that, so thank you.

Eddy: Oh, I don't think so. See, I feel like, you know, it's women like you paving the way, like inspiring, you know, my generation to tattoo is like, we owe you all our gratitude.

Mimsy: Well, thank you. And I love you too.

Eddy: Well, um, just to our listeners, if you'd like to, um, check out the footage, you can see our YouTube channel. Um, you can follow us on Instagram at Not Just A Girl underscore Tattoo for regular updates. Um, in the show notes, I'll link all of Mimsy's details and Trailer Trash details so that you can see their wonderful work. Um, please subscribe, follow and share and help spread the love of tattooing. Huge thank you to the wonderful Mimsy for joining us today and sharing your story. Um, yeah. Like I really appreciate you coming on and I really appreciate everyone for listening. So thank you so much. I love you Mimsy

Mimsy: Love you, thank you, stay cute.

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ladystylestores · 4 years

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Coming-Out Stories From Young Black Creatives – WWD

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For Pride Month, WWD asked young Black creatives to share their coming-out stories. While Pride Month is over, the challenges facing the LGBTQ community, and their experiences, require more than a once-a-year focus. So WWD reached out to more Black creatives about their own coming-out stories to keep the conversation going.

El Lewis

My coming out was more of an invitation in. The first person in my family I felt most comfortable enough to tell was my mother. I remember the moment being fueled with liberation and I just proceeded to tell her the full truth about myself and my interests. It was a candid conversation that was uncompromising, yet vulnerable. It felt like I opened the door and it was her choice to walk in and have a seat.

Lex Porter

First, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Lex, my pronouns are she/her/hers and I identify as a lesbian. I recently started a podcast called “She|Her|Dyke” to create a space where masculine-presenting women can share their stories and day to day struggles.

“Coming out” was never a thing to me. At a young age I knew I was different, but I was unaware of the need to “come out” about it. I didn’t have any influences, and I honestly didn’t know what being gay was, I just knew I wasn’t attracted to men whatsoever. At the age of 14, and after quite a few failed boyfriend attempts, I decided to act on my attraction to women.

After about a year of me acting on this attraction, I was outed by Myspace. For context, since many may not know or remember, Myspace had a variety of in-depth surveys that you could post on your page and they allowed you to delve into your personal and love life. Of course, I posted my answers to my page because I wanted the ladies to get to know me. One day, I was out grabbing a sandwich from the deli and my mom called me and asked, “Who is Denise?’ In this moment my heart skipped quite a few beats because Denise was my girlfriend at the time. I tried to play it off like, “Oh, that’s my friend, mom — why?” My mom then told me that she saw my Myspace page and the survey said Denise was my first love.

At this point, the cat was out of the bag. I explained to my mom that Denise was my girlfriend and that we had been dating for maybe a year or so. My mom was heartbroken, she saw it as something she did wrong, as if she failed as a parent. We then had the talk about my lesbianism being a phase or if I needed some kind of counseling, essentially trying to figure out how this “problem” could be “fixed.”

After coming out, there was a bit of turbulence between my mother and me because we were both figuring out how to come to terms with it. Although it took some time, I am grateful we were both able to find peace and acceptance with me being her daughter who is also a lesbian. During one of the many conversations we had, I explained that this is who I am and this is what makes me happy and from that point on she understood. At the end of the day she wanted nothing more than for me to be happy, but she had to release those preconceived ideas of what happiness looked like for me.

My mother and I have been on this journey for 15 years now and I am so proud of how she has embraced me. She still sees me as Lex, loves me all the same, and actively accepts the fact that I am a lesbian. The most unexpected moment of growth for me is that she now finds herself being a support system for other parents who have trouble accepting their queer children. It definitely hasn’t been easy over the years, but words can’t express how grateful I am that we’ve been able to rebuild and strengthen our bond. Her support of not only me but all queer people is a coming-out story that you don’t always hear in Black families. I am so honored to share my story in hopes that it may soften the heart of a parent struggling to help their masculine-presenting lesbian daughter, or give a queer person hope that there is light at the end of the coming-out tunnel.

Jash Jay

The interesting thing about my story is I’ve actually never come out publicly. As a professional disc jockey, I’ve always felt comfortable in any room. Why shouldn’t I?

My journey has been solely about me being comfortable with myself and sharing aspects of my life with others as I see fit and on my own timeline. Currently, I’m the most confident in myself and my space than I’ve ever been. I won’t allow anyone to shift that.

I was raised in a New Orleanian Southern Baptist household. My parents’ beliefs were deeply rooted in Christianity. My father is a reverend. We were very involved in church, attending services multiple times a week, including rehearsals on weekends. I was also no stranger to the word “sissy” being used in both the confines of my home and four church walls. “Don’t be a sissy. There are too many sissies running around here” rang in my head. At a young, impressionable age, this weighed on me tremendously.

I began to realize how I felt in terms of my sexuality around the age of 12, but I had no idea “why” I felt this way nor “who” I was at this time. The only thing that resonated with me during this period in my life was being taught that this “feeling” was wrong…and nothing else. I couldn’t discuss this with my friends; kids were cruel at this age. What would their parents think? Adults can be just as mean, surprisingly. They’d think I’m “mentally ill.” They’d stop their kids from playing with me. And God forbid my parents find out. They’d hate me or ask God for a new son. These are all thoughts no child should be burdened with, but here I was with all of these scenarios in my head.

During my adolescence, I dated several girls in an effort to “find myself.” I tried to be the guy society “taught” me I should be. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be accepted. I remember discussing my sexuality with my mom twice. LOL. Once at 15 when she brought up the topic (she considered it to be a phase, of course) and again at 22 when I initiated the conversation upon relocating from home. My mother has always expressed her unwavering love for me regardless of any circumstance. Thankfully, this time around, she was incredibly open and willing to listen with the intent to understand me not only as her son, but as an adult coming into his own. During our discussion, I recall saying to her, “Now don’t go running around telling everybody, Mom.” She loves to talk. She replied, “Don’t worry. I definitely won’t.” I knew this was code for not only being concerned about how others would view her as a God-fearing woman, but figuring out how she would protect her child from cruelty and ignorance of the world, even in his adulthood. Although I felt an overwhelming amount of relief, her response let me know that I still had quite a process of a journey ahead.

Starting out as a disc jockey, I dealt with many internal struggles over the years. Will I lose a gig based on my sexuality? Do I not fit the image? Is someone in the room whispering about me? But then I asked myself, why do these things matter? I’m an artist first; my work speaks for itself. And if anyone has an issue regarding my sexuality or identity, It’s more than likely an issue within themselves. I always strive to break down barriers because “artistry knows no bounds.”

My move to Georgia has been the most gratifying experience of my life, both its shortcomings and blessings. June marked my 10th year as an Atlanta resident. I’m also grateful to enter my seventh year as a full-time disc jockey. At the age of 32, I’ve encountered individuals and acquired friends from all walks of life. I’ve also found myself to be confident in any room, DJ’ing for crowds of people of all demographics, identities, and sexual preferences. My job is to create unity and inclusivity through art, music and storytelling. I strive to educate others in the same fashion. I’ve never felt pressured to parade my sexuality, but I’ve also learned to never disguise who I am. I’m very proud. As a DJ and simply as a human-being, anyone who feels uncomfortable or insecure in a space around myself or someone else based on gender identity or sexual preference, a space created for love, needs do some soul searching themselves. Life is never about creating false perceptions for others’ approval. It’s about living in your truth to your fullest potential.

Antonio Thompson I grew up in Birmingham, Ala., in a very Christian home. For a long time, I played a heterosexual role because being a gay man in a Christian home was unheard of. I will never forget the summer before junior high — I lived around the corner from the middle school I attended. This one kid called me the F word the whole walk home. My mom was just getting off of work and was pulling into the driveway.

She overheard the kid calling me names and directed me over to the car to figure out why he was behaving this way toward me. I replied with “Mom, I don’t know.” She asked me if I was gay, and I told her, “No.” My parents instilled in me to be firm, to stand up for what I believe in at a very young age. She said, “You’ll always be Antonio, if you are nothing will change.. you know that right?” I said, “Yes ma’am…” She paused and said, “Well, Antonio, go defend yourself. Never let someone call you something you’re not.” I got into my first fight that afternoon. Sophomore year of college I was home for the summer, finally in a place where I felt confident enough to say I’m gay without feeling ashamed or scared. The first to know were my sisters. I flew back to New York and the minute I landed I got a call from my mom wanting to know if I had made it safe. She went into saying she had just had a conversation with my sisters and in that moment I knew someone had spilled my tea (haha )! I confirmed and apologized to my mom for not telling her when I was home. She assured me she knew for a very long time and she was just waiting for me. She told me she will forever love me and I will always be her son.

Jade Mayo

Can’t say that my story is the most climatic. But I basically crawled out of the closet over the course of a couple years. Most of my life, I grew up in a very religious household and had a very small circle of friends and family. I always wanted to try other things and explore outside of my circle. In my younger days, I always had short-lived interactions with men. Quick flirtations that always usually fizzled into friendships or ghosting, but never anything intimate. I always felt like an oddball and could never understand why. But after my parents’ divorce and slowly backing away from my religious beliefs in my early 20s, I began to hang out more in New York while expanding my friend circle.

I had just started working in Manhattan for an Indian beader and manufacturer, who had a lot of high-profile clients at the time. I eventually met the first woman that piqued my interest and our initial friendship turned into something more intimate. Even though she was far more experienced and more open with her sexuality, she made me feel safe enough to explore the new feelings that were starting to manifest.

Over time, my initial situation with my friend ended and we went our separate ways. I spent most of my mid-20s partying and working at my first big job in fashion, while sorting through my feelings about women. I clearly felt being gay was where I belonged. I had not felt that much clarity about my dating life or sexuality ever. Working in fashion helped this transitional period greatly. I didn’t feel like I worked in a field where I had to hide my sexuality to keep my job. Fashion has a way of bringing out our truths through clothing or imagery. I felt I could form my new authentic identity without shame.

But I really was a late bloomer to the community, so I felt like I had a lot of catching up to do. I was still learning how to approach and date women. I didn’t grow up or know anyone who was openly gay and I didn’t know any lesbians until I met my first. Most of my friends at the time were very straight, but one of my homegirls at the time helped me as much as she could.

Fortunately when I met my first, someone she knew eventually became sort of like my gay Yoda. Eyeris took me to all the lesbian haunts for the first time. Cubbyhole. Henrietta Hudson. Lesbian night at Escuelita’s (RIP). Took me to my first Pride. We got to bond over our love for Nineties music, ups and downs of dating and navigating our social lives. She really helped me learn so much about the LGBTQIA community that I now felt a part of and we are still great friends to this day.

Mostly everyone in my life knew I was gay after a certain point. I told my older brother first since we spent so much time around each other, I was honestly tired of hiding it. Then my younger brother, but I still had not told my mother anything. I’m extremely close to my mother and we literally talk about everything. But we never discussed my dating life. I felt no need to really come out to her before because I wasn’t seeing anyone seriously for a long time.

Eventually I did wind up dating someone that I was really falling for at the time and I was approaching 30. It was time. I knew that I wanted to introduce her to them. So finally I got up the courage to tell her. I think we were on a long drive somewhere and I finally told her that I was gay and had been seeing women for some time now. She was naturally shocked. But not appalled. Just confused that she hadn’t really taken notice. I think she thought I was joking because she said, “Really” or “Are you serious?” like five times. But then she took a long pause before she started asking the serious questions, “When?” “How long?” “Who?,” and most importantly, “Why?”

I told her that I wanted to be the one to tell her and not one of her old friends running into me on a date with someone and make it seem something salacious or tawdry. I wanted the same things most people want out of a potential partner or dating. I wanted her to see nothing drastic throughout the years of us being around each other, I had not really changed. Who she knew me to be as her daughter never changed. Except for the gender of the person that I really wanted to date and hope to marry.

Her main concern overall was that it’s hard enough to be a Black women in America, but even more dangerous to be a Black gay women. She was quiet for a while after I came out, but shortly after, she came around. She saw that it had not changed me to be someone she didn’t recognize. Plus she knew that a lot of her other hang-ups were based on a lot of ignorance and preconceived notions. She knew I was finally being my authentic self.

Julian Spencer

My sexuality hasn’t always been so straightforward. Before I knew what “gay” was, before I was able to even make a decision whether I was gay or not, I was labeled as effeminate, soft. I loved dolls, I was obsessed with Lil’ Kim and “Spice World.” I showed “signs.” I’ve never fit a mold. Society labeled me before I could label myself. Routinely, my father and I would attend car shows, visit the barbershop, and circle the block to look at girls. So imagine my surprise when my father asks me, “Yo, are you gay?” in the most masculine way possible. I hadn’t thought about it. “Am I? I’m 14. I, I don’t think so.” A few months pass, it’s the second semester of my freshman year in high school, and in walks Robbie. He’s beautiful. Something, just, clicked. It felt right. I start chatting with guys on Myspace. Junior year, my play sister Bri knows I’m attracted to men, I had just broken up with my girlfriend, Latisha. She asks, “So, who are you attracted to at school?” I say, “Justin, Curtis,” both athletes, internalized homophobia early on. The next day, the whole school knows. Some sister. Luckily, the boys didn’t try to fight me, just stared at me in the hallways.

Regardless, coming out was never my own. My sexuality initially was not my own. My first sexual interaction with a man was not my own. I took back that power, which was taken from me. I’ve learned to own my sexuality. Writing has allowed me to own my story and tell it my way. I own my experiences and who I am. I’ve vowed that no one will ever have the power to write my story again.

BMAJR I never had a picture-perfect “coming-out” story nor a simple “coming-out” moment. Growing up in urban Detroit, I always felt that I had to hide my sexuality from everyone. I played every sport under the sun to appear more hetero and masculine to my family, friends, and to myself. I went through most of my adolescence living a lie — even having a girlfriend at one point when there was no attraction, it was what I thought I had to be to “fit in” and to be accepted. It wasn’t until I started to mature and experience things when I left home, that I started to live in my truth and be my authentic self. I had to become comfortable in my sexuality and identity before even thinking of coming out to the world.

I grew to learn what “coming out” really means and it is different for everyone. Coming out doesn’t have to be a verbal declaration — but self-love to not have to hide who you are in life. I don’t have a specific public moment or instance of me officially coming out to the world or family and that is OK. I want young people to understand that it is OK to not be ready for the public coming-out — it is your right to be yourself and not owe anyone an explanation. Be proud of who you are and live your truth. I wouldn’t change any of my experiences, both good and bad, that allowed me to walk in my truth and embrace my sexuality. Living in my truth has allowed me to become a more confident DJ and scientist — enabling me to walk into any space and own it. I hope another young boy in Detroit sees my story and knows that it is OK to feel like you don’t owe anyone an explanation of how you feel and be comfortable with your sexuality and yourself first before giving a public declaration.

Tim Hell I actually feel like I had to come out of the closet twice. The first time was back in middle school (seventh grade to be exact). I used to stay home by myself after school and at the time I had a crush on a boy that was in the neighborhood over so I thought it would be best for me to draft up a note and put it in his locker, pretty much confessing my love for him. (yikes, right?) I ended up getting too scared and never did it, but I left the note in my backpack just in case I ever got the courage. Little over a week later, report cards went home and I was never the greatest student so I tried to act like I didn’t get my report card when it was time to present it to my mother that evening. My mom is far from dumb so she knew exactly what I was trying to accomplish and went through my backpack to find the “missing report card.” Among the balled-up report card was also the note I forgot I left in my backpack.

The second she grabbed the note I knew there wasn’t anything I could really say to get me out of it but I tried my best. I knew I was gay since I was a child but I never actually shared that information with anyone ’cause I wasn’t fully ready to accept it myself yet. I wouldn’t say there was an interrogation but a lot of questions were asked and after maybe 30 minutes (what felt like hours) I finally decided to tell my mother that I was in fact gay. What’s crazy is she wasn’t upset with me being gay at all, more so that I hid the report card, which I feel like actually repressed my whole coming out.

The following week I attempted suicide for the first time ’cause I just felt like such a letdown. I didn’t really know what I was doing, luckily, so it was unsuccessful but I remember telling her that I did try to kill myself and her reaction was the most unconditional outpouring of love I ever received at that point in my life.

But don’t get me wrong, coming out didn’t change much about my life. I grew up in a religious household so I still was forced to go to church and even “therapy” sessions with my pastor, which ended with him just telling me that being gay is a sin. But that’s a story for another day.

The “second” [time] was a little better. My senior year in high school I was just tired of having people who knew I was gay constantly ignore my lifestyle and try to hook me up with girls, or even my mother calling one of the girls at church her “daughter in law” ’cause she just knew we were going to get married. Before I left for school one morning, I told my mom I needed to talk to her about something; later that day when I got home I chickened out of course (LOL) but I ended up just breaking down and telling her how I felt and I believe it helped our relationship tremendously. But even in the following years, I could tell my mom wasn’t too sure how to handle it because I wasn’t fully confident in being a Black and gay man.

Ten years later, I can’t lie, I still have moments where I struggle with my identity. I actually think my style is a prime example of that; a quick conversation with me and you’ll know I’m very in touch with my feminine side and have no problem “queening” out at moments but I definitely present very masculine in my style choices. I think that’s due to me having to hide or conform most of my life whether it was back in grade school or now currently in my military career.

If I could change anything about my coming out, it would be just having it be more on my terms than rather push out. I say all that to say “coming out” isn’t always rainbows and sunshine; sometimes it’s just a start of a never-ending identity search/battle. Also, the confidence you have in yourself sets the path for the confidence everyone else is going to have for you. One thing that I have learned through life is loving yourself is the most important thing in the world. Come out when you are ready.

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