#sorry for the lack of art. i was back at the mart

[pebpebpebble]

zero two rhymes with fearful glue (trust me its true)

[therainroguefanfiction]

⚘ Karasuno Alumni (Daichi Sawamura)

Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff, Friendship

Word Count: 3,132

Pairing: Reader x Daichi

World: Haikyuu

Prompt(s): A bought the last piece of [item] that B was about to get. / “I have nothing to lose.” / Tattoo Artist AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/19/20) over on @hqbookclub​ ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t It should be noted that I do not have tattoos and I know nothing about tattooing. I asked a couple different people and watched a couple videos, but it’s hard to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself so I kinda just wrote what I imagine would take place and how it would feel. So yeah.

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You didn’t get cravings very often, but when you did, they drove you absolutely batty until you got the object that you suddenly desired so badly. This was especially annoying at midnight when all you wanted to do was sleep but your brain wouldn’t stop craving for some strawberry flake pocky which, not so conveniently, was sold only at the quick mart about twenty minutes away from your house.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes you could find quickly as you grumbled under your breath about how much you hated your brain and its ability to act like a damn toddler. And nearly thirty minutes later, you found yourself approaching the quick mart, still grumbling under your breath, though, at this point, it was more noises than words.

The glass doors slid open, a burst of cold air hitting the top of your head and causing a shiver to go down your spine. The cashier, a young girl that should probably be in bed and not working at one in the morning, smiled brightly upon your entrance.

“Welcome!”

You nodded at her before heading toward the back of the store where your precious pocky was located. The pocky was lined up at the end of the aisle, appearing in your line of sight as soon as you turned the corner, but the lack of flavors was startling. Normally, the shelf would be packed with the treats, but they had clearly become much more popular than normal. The shelves were nearly empty, offering only a few boxes in varying flavors. Your eyes scanned what was left, praying to whatever deity you could think of that they had the flavor you so desired.

Just as your eyes landed on the strawberry flake pocky, a large hand shot out, fingers curling around the very last box before pulling it from the shelf. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your eyes trained on the box like a hawk, watching as it was placed into the plastic basket being held by the perpetrator.

The man in question was pretty tall, standing probably around five-foot-nine, and his body was well defined with muscles. You could just barely make out the tattoo of a crow in mid-flight peeking out from the collar of his sweater. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was attractive with his messy raven hair and dark brown eyes, but the only thing you could focus on was the fact that he had just taken the last feckin’ box of strawberry flake pocky.

He finally noticed your intense stare, turning his dark eyes to meet yours. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching up.

You scowled at him. “It’s also not polite to steal someone’s pocky!”

His brow quirked at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t steal anything. It was on the shelf, free for anyone to take. Maybe you should have been faster.”

In your tired, annoyed state, you didn’t recognize the teasing tone he was using and took it as a challenge. When he tried to step past you, your hand shot up, palm flat against his chest to push him backward. You resolve faltered for just a moment when you felt his toned chest tensing beneath your hand, but you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. “Give me back my pocky, you jerk!”

His eyes darkened, smile turning to a scowl as he grabbed your wrist to remove your hand from his chest. You could feel how strong he was from the amount of restraint he was showing. If he wanted to, he could easily hurt you, but his grip was soft, just enough to hold you back. “Maybe if you asked nicely I would have considered it, but since you’re being so rude, I’m gonna say no. Have a good night.” He released his grip on your wrist and headed for the front of the store.

Your eyes widened a bit at his words and you realized that you were being a complete jerk. Sure, you could use the lack of sleep and your shitty day as an excuse, but it was just that – an excuse. Shaking your head, you bolted toward the front of the store, intent on apologizing to the man, but he was already gone. You could only stand there feeling like a shitty person for being so rude to a man you had never even met before.

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“Y/N!” Tsuko, your childhood best friend, burst into your dorm room without knocking and, since you were in the middle of erasing a failed equation, you ended up jumping and tearing the page.

You groaned, slamming your face onto the desk. Math was bad enough, but now you had to recopy everything because of the torn page and that did not sound like a good time for you. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock, woman?”

“Sorry~” She giggled, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I have the best news!”

You hummed as you tore the page from the notebook, beginning to re-copy the notes on a fresh, clean one. You were not really interested in whatever gossip she had to offer this time because this was a regular occurrence with her and it was mostly about other student’s relationships.

“Okay, so,” she plopped down on the side of your bed. “I met a guy in class today that knows Anne, you know, the exchange student from the states, who is good friends with Ako, that really cute football scholar in his third year, who heard from Carl, the half-Japanese kid that’s weirdly obsessed with tomatoes, who is best friends with Nia, that girl that was featured in Art Monthly in January, who happens to know -”

You slammed your head back on the desk, the notes completely forgotten as her word vomit swirled in your ears. First off, you didn’t know any of those people and you really didn’t care about them or what incredible thing they had passed along to a million different people. It was like one of those chain games you played as a kid – one person says something before passing it on to another and, by the time it got to the end of the line, it was something completely different from what it once was. “Tsuko, please spare me any further pain and just get to the point.”

She rolled her brown eyes, “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Anywho, let’s get tattoos!”

“Heh?”

“Nia knows a guy that does tattoos at a discounted price for Karasuno alumni!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I set us up with an appointment tomorrow afternoon!”

“You -” your eye twitched in annoyance as you looked at her, but your gaze softened when you saw how excited she was. She had always been super into tattoos and had dreamed of getting one since she was thirteen-years-old and her mom married a guy that was covered in them. You were happy she was finally getting one, but why did you have to get one, as well? Sure, you thought tattoos were absolutely gorgeous and you could definitely appreciate an attractive man with them, but you had never actually considered getting one yourself. “I don’t know… What would I even get? Aren’t tattoos supposed to have meaning behind them? It’s not really something you just decide on the fly, you know?”

“That’s true,” she agreed, tapping her chin. “But you really loved your time at Karasuno, right? You said it was the best time of your life! So why not commemorate that with a tattoo?”

You frowned. “Getting the name of a high school tattooed on my body sounds super tacky.”

“Not the name!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance before pulling out her phone. After a few taps, she stood up to thrust the device in your face, showing off various drawings and designs of crows. “You can get the school’s mascot – a crow!”

You hummed as you took her phone, scrolling through the various images she had found on google with a simple search. Some of them did look pretty cool and you had loved your time at Karasuno. Sometimes you even found yourself wishing that you were back in high school when things were so much simpler and easier. The more you thought about the idea, the more you liked it.

“So~, what do you say?” Tsuko clapped her hands together, giving you the best puppy dog eyes she could manage.

“Well,” you answered after a moment’s pause. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Sure, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” She threw her arms around your neck, squeezing you against her chest. “You’re the bestest friend in the world, Y/N!”

You slapped her arms frantically, “Then let me breathe!”

“Oh, oops.” With a giggle, she released you, allowing you to take in a large gulp of air.

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Tsuko parked the car in front of the small tattoo shop nestled between a used bookstore and a fast-food chicken place. This did little to boost your confidence and you grabbed her arm before she could leave the car.

“Are you sure this place is legit? Did you research it? Look up reviews? What’s the -”

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes. “This place comes highly recommended. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out at the last moment.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for our appointment!”

With a sigh, you climbed out of her car and followed her to the door, glancing up at the bell above the door when it chimed loudly. On either side of the door were metal chairs lined against the class walls. Directly across from the door was an L-shaped desk with a computer on the right and various drawings scattered across its surface. A wall hid the tattooing area, offering a small opening on the left to pass through.

Tsuko stepped up to the counter while you hung back a bit, staying near the door. A moment passed before a tall man with a shaved head appeared in the doorway, covered in head to toe in various tattoo styles, piercings in both ears and on the left side of his bottom lip. He honestly looked terrifying.

His small eyes fell on Tsuko and his face brightened, a streak of red crawling across his face as he practically skipped over to the counter. “Hey, babe! You lookin’ to get a tattoo?”

“We are!” Tsuko chirped, clearly interested in this man even though she had only just met him. “We have an appointment, actually.”

“I gotchu,” he winked, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. “Ah, you two the Karasuno alumni?”

“Yep!”

“Perfect! Come on back and we’ll get to work!”

Tsuko didn’t hesitate to follow him and you sighed, trailing behind as you chewed on your bottom lip. Honestly, you were feeling kind of scared, but you didn’t want your best friend to think bad of you for chickening out, as she called it. How bad could it be, really? You weren’t afraid of needles and your pain tolerance was pretty high, so you were confident that you could make it through. Plus, you’d have a pretty bomb tattoo to show for it.

‘Hopefully,’ you thought as your eyes scanned the framed drawings lining the backroom. ‘These drawings look amazing, but there’s no way to prove that they did these.’

The man led the two of you to one of the plush chairs, motioning with his arms as his eyes stayed trained on your friend. “Have a seat, princess, and I’ll be right with you!”

She giggled in response, falling into the chair with a flushed face.

“As for you,” his eyes fell on you and you swallowed at how darker they got. “Follow me!”

You glanced at your friend, but her eyes were trained on the man’s back, offering you no support as you followed him a few chairs down on the opposite side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he grinned at you before turning toward the back of the room where a lone door sat, cupping his mouth. “Yo, Daichi! You got a customer!”

“Coming!”

You pulled out the folded piece of paper in your pocket that had several printed illustrations of crows in various poses. You had printed it out last night to try and help out the tattooer rather just saying, ‘I want a crow.’

“Hello, my name is Daichi and I’ll be -”

Your eyes met dark ones that widened in time with your own. Standing before you in a tight, black muscle shirt was the man that had taken your pocky the other night. Without any sleeves, you could see the dragon tattoo curling around his left arm, a light pink lotus flower clutched between its claws. On his right bicep was a crow sitting atop a volleyball and, of course, the crow in mid-flight could be seen more clearly on his neck.

Daichi cleared his throat, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll be your tattooist today. What are you looking to get?”

“O-Oh, umm…” You handed him the paper with a shaking hand, unable to look him in the eye. Your face was burning with embarrassment and you were torn on whether or not you should mention what happened that night. You really wanted to apologize, but you weren’t entirely sure how, especially when one wrong word could land you in a world of hurt.

He took the paper, careful not to touch your hand with his as he glanced over the printed designs. “You want a crow?”

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I really enjoyed my time at Karasuno, so…”

He smiled down at the paper, settling himself on the rolling stool as he grabbed a sketchbook from beneath the counter. “Is there a specific design you want?”

“Not really. Umm… whatever you think would look nice.” You rubbed the back of your neck, glancing at your friend, but neither her nor the other man were paying either of you any mind.

“How about this?” He held up the sketchbook, showing off a small crow in mid-hop, its eyes trained on a butterfly flying above its head. Small feathers were spread out around it. It was such a simple design, but you fell in love the moment you saw it.

“Yes, that looks amazing!”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, tearing the drawing from the book before returning to the room at the back. When he returned, he was carrying a thin piece of paper that he held gently between his fingers. “Where do you want to get it?”

You glanced at the paper, taking note of its small size. “My upper arm?” You lifted the sleeve of the t-shirt on your left arm, looking up at him for approval.

“Can you take your shirt off, please?”

“W-What?” Your cheeks burned at the sudden request.

“The sleeve might get in the way of the tattoo and ruin it. It’s better if it’s not in the way.” Daichi explained, setting the paper on the table beside the chair before setting up the tools.

Swallowing your nerves, you glanced at him before pulling the shirt over your head, holding it across your chest. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rolled over to your side, slipping his hands into black gloves before cleaning the area where the tattoo would be placed. The stencil was cold as he carefully smoothed it out across your skin, pressing hard to ensure that the ink transferred. When he was satisfied, he slowly peeled it away, the ink stuck to your skin.

Daichi’s dark eyes met yours as he picked up the ink gun. “Are you ready?” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Remember to breathe and try not to tense up, it’ll make it hurt worse. If it gets too much or you start to feel lightheaded, let me know and we’ll take a break. I’m going to start now.”

“Okay.” Your eyes followed his movements as he clicked on the gun, lowering the needle to your skin. You sucked in a breath at the strange stinging feeling upon your skin, as if you were getting a shot multiple times. You found yourself focusing on the pain and it was making you feel light-headed – you had to distract yourself. “Hey, I uhh… I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” He didn’t glance away from his work, carefully tracing the lines with the needle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… the other night in the quick mart…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you searched your brain for the proper words, meeting his dark eyes when he paused his ministrations to glance at you. “I want to apologize. I was such a jerk to you even though I didn’t know you and… I’m sorry.”

Daichi hummed, the corners of his lips twitching up as he returned to the tattoo, his tone teasing. “Are you just apologizing so I won’t mess up your tattoo?”

“What? N-No, that’s not -” You paused when he started laughing, bringing the gun away from your skin so he wouldn’t mess up the tattoo. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yup,” his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not so petty that I’d mark up someone’s skin over something like that. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it until I saw you.”

Seeing him so close to you made your heart pick up speed because he was a really gorgeous man and you adored his laugh. You wanted to get to know him more, so you threw caution to the wind, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I… make it up to you? Maybe I can buy you some lunch or something.”

“That sounds nice,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up.

“Way to go, Daichi!” The other man waggled his eyebrows as he looked at the two of you, a smirk upon his lips. “And you always yell at me for trying to date the clients!”

Daichi scowled over his shoulder, a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. “Shut it, Tanaka! Focus on your client.”

“Oh trust me, I am~” Tanaka wiggled his brows again, this time at Tsuko who giggled in response.

“We should go on a double date!” She suggested happily, to which Tanaka nodded enthusiastically.

Daichi sighed, giving you a sheepish look. “You up for a double date?”

You glanced at your best friend and her new love interest before giving him a smile. “Something tells me we don’t have a choice.”

“Definitely not,” he laughed.

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[sworn-unbeliever]

05 - Matter of Fact

((Some Shadowbringers spoilers! Taking a break from the battoru stuff. Joey is my lalafell main and staple character everywhere. He has a barely-updated Tumblr at @without-school-or-style.))

wc: 2,132

Lakeland. Hardly a place to call a fun place for training and a campsite, let alone picnic, but those naysayers were not Teremy. And Joey, who followed Teremy out of mission and obligation. As Joey watched Teremy practice the usual martial arts and swordsmanship drills first thing in the morning, the lalafell mused various thoughts in his journal. Just watching the miqo’te acted as enough of a reminder of things that had happened. Beside Joey, a stone pot bubbled away merrily and a pan of vegetables and fish began to heat up.

A month had passed since the nephew and I started travelling through Norvrant together.

Joey made a side note to say that ‘the nephew’ nickname came from Teremy being raised by his aunt. Or perhaps as a reminder of a cartoonish hippo asking everyone in the vicinity if they wanted to see pictures of her nephew. Teremy seemed like that kind of person of whom people close to him would want to share pictures of him whether he’d like it or not.

Since our journeys started, we’ve traveled to Eulmore, Amh Araeng, and now we’re in Lakeland. We’ve had many adventures together! We witnessed the stark difference between the abject poverty of Gatetown’s slums compared to the splendor of Eulmore proper. The way people struggle to survive all over the world, but especially pronounced Amh Araeng. And we’ve just fought a lightwarden and brought back the night in Lakeland proper.

But since this was morning, Joey had plenty of light to write in. As well, watching the nephew’s steady morning routine.

The nephew’s training is going well as expected. He has showered me with many questions, sometimes very hyper-specific questions about certain scenarios. I didn’t expect that! I thought he’d be the kind of person to be all eh who cares let’s just go and do the thing. He really wants to understand what he’s doing, and he also learns very quickly. Sometimes frighteningly so. I can’t really keep up with him thanks to my low stamina and all… Does he really need my help? I feel like I’m just there to keep him company most of the time.

Joey watched Teremy move on to another set of drills. ‘But he works hard every day for what he does. It’s hard to resent him for that.’

Still, traveling with him has been a lot of fun. Aside from his training routine which even that has its own variables, every day has been an adventure. I never know what to expect.

The pan of fish and vegetables began to sizzle, both from the heat and to symbolize Joey’s drop of mood.

Except food.

I made the mistake of letting the nephew make his own food because he claims to be a picky eater. I should be grateful that he’s cooking for the both of us… and I have been helping to gather ingredients every day. But every day has been nothing more than fish, rice, steamed vegetables. Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Joey’s voice muttered with his scrawl, both his voice and his quill growing louder with each reiteration.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables....

* * *

“MOU!!”

Teremy looked up from his food, his eyes slightly widened. “What…?”

The miqo’te and the lalafell now enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Drills done, breakfast made, now time to eat. Teremy looked at Joey with honest shock. Up until now the lalafell had never complained once about the food. Where did this all come from?

“Every day has been the same thing!” said Joey. “Fish, rice, vegetables--”

Teremy blinked. “Today’s grilled bream. Yesterday we had baked megapiranha and the day before that--”

“I mean, something new. Something exciting! Every day is the same fish, rice, steamed vegetables. As a matter of fact, that’s all we’ve had since we started travelling together.”

Exhaling, Teremy reached into his bag. “So spoiled. Here. Sodium.” From his bag, he procured some rock salt, of which he somehow had found time to grind at some point in life, and sprinkled a pinch over Joey’s vegetables.

Joey stirred up the salt in the vegetables and took a bite. “Mm! That’s good. Thank you!” He paused. “WAIT A MINUTE! That’s not the point! THE POINT IS--”

Teremy chuckled. Joey glowered. That miqo’te jerk thought he was so funny.

“--all this lack of variety is hurting my delicate culinarian sensibilities. Here, let me make lunch today. I’ll make something nice that both of us can enjoy. I used to make meals back at Fortunes & Fancies. This is no big deal to me.”

“Er, sure. Go for it.” Teremy scratched the back of his head. 

With his bowl of food on his lap, Joey threw his arms up in the air and beamed a broad smile like only a lalafell could. “Yeah! Thank you!” Quickly eating the rest of his food, he put aside the dishes and pulled out a handmade book and quill. Excitedly, like a small child, his red eyes sparkled. “So tell me what kinds of foods do you like? Besides the fish and the rice and the vegetables. What kind of foods don’t you like? Any allergies? Any preferences?”

Teremy’s eyes remained widened, as though unaccustomed to people asking him about himself. “I, ah, I’m… not a big fan of super greasy foods. My brother likes that more than me. But I’m not opposed to trying anything at least once.”

“Any kind of meat?”

“Any.”

As Joey wrote down his notes, he couldn’t help but notice Teremy looking down, the miqo’te’s face slightly forlorn. “All this time, I had no idea all this fish caused you such trauma. Want a hug?”

“Haw haw haw. Very funny.” Joey exhaled. “It’s not that, I… I’m just venting about something stupid. I like the fish. And besides, why fish anyway? Because it’s healthy?”

“That and…” Teremy looked down at his now empty dish. Closing his eyes, he smiled softly. “Because I’m reminded of home.”

“Home?” Joey repeated, tilting his head.

“Kugane,” said Teremy. “I know, not a lot of miqo’te there. Born in the lands but not of blood. All that spiel and fun shit.”

“Oh, no… I’m just happy to hear you talk about yourself.” Joey waved his hands.

Once again, Teremy looked back at Joey with wide eyes. ‘He’s really not used to people asking about him?’ Joey wondered. After a few moments, as though collecting his thoughts, Teremy spoke again.

“My… parents... ran a combination fish mart and restaurant. Fish for the people who like to make food, restaurant for the lazy. Made a modest living and all. Of course, Useless Tia--that’s what Jer and I called our ‘father’--left it up to my brother and I to actually get the fish. Our labor, his fortune. That’s how things worked within the family.” He rolled his eyes. “Even then… I can’t speak for how Jer felt, but for me, spending time with my brother and my aunt were the happiest times I had in childhood. Going fishing, beating up bandits… heh, one time, Useless Tia even pitted us against each other. Whoever caught the biggest fish ate dinner. Hah, joke’s on him. We both caught a fish and said we both did. Then Jer and I had a nice shrimp dinner at our aunt’s.”

Teremy paused.

“... sorry. Getting caught up in nostalgia like that. I’m just a sentimental fool.”

Joey shook his head. “No, not at all. Your memories and past are important to you. They give you a sense of belonging, don’t they?”

Teremy looked to the side. “... guess they do. Never thought about it that way.”

Campfire doused, dishes washed and put away in storage, Teremy stood and stretched.

“More training already? You just ate,” said Joey. He figured that Teremy had finished talking and wanted to quickly cover up his moment of vulnerability.

“After a break.” Teremy winked as he raised an arm over his head. “How about you?”

“I, ah, I’m going to plan lunch. You’ll be okay when I’ve left to get ingredients?”

Teremy beat his chest with the thumb side of his closed fist. “Surprisingly, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Joey made a face. “All right. We’ll reconvene here at Brick around lunch time.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Despite still being connected by linkpearl in case something happened, all Joey really heard on his end were various pants and grunts from Teremy’s usual after breakfast training. That gave Joey some time to come up with a menu. While perched on his flying chair, Joey scoured through his list of books and master books as to what he could possibly come up with.

‘He likes healthy food. He doesn’t like anything greasy, so fried is out. Baked seems okay.’ Joey thought. ‘His idea of a treat is sodium, which means he must secretly like salty foods. Makes sense with how much he sweats all day. Hmm. What’s local around this area. Grilled rail? I’d have to go to Ahm Araeng for that. Or how about…’

Joey’s mind wandered to Teremy’s conversation about the miqo’te’s childhood in his native Kugane. Joey had spent a spell or two there, if just to learn about the local foods. Joey thought of Teremy’s soft expression, the gentle way he spoke of his home and his childhood...

‘He misses his home, doesn’t he? Maybe some local foods from Kugane. Let’s see what I have onhand. It’s not like I can get back to the Source anytime soon…’

* * *

As promised, Teremy and Joey reconvened at the campsite. The miqo’te looked doused in water--most likely to quickly wash off all his sweat. When Teremy arrived, he saw Joey already at the campsite, beaming from ear to ear. Laid in front of him were various dishes Joey had created, all steaming as though Joey had just finished cooking.

“Ta-da!” Joey opened his arms wide. “I made a compromise kind of meal. Here’s the rice, the steamed vegetables… and on this side we have grilled rail steak made with local ingredients, and--”

“--Miso dengaku.” Teremy finished the sentence.

The miqo’te took his time to inhale the sweet scent of food. He had to admit, the smell alone was enough to send his stomach growling. Miso glazed tofu and eggplant. Just like home.

“I had to improvise with whatever I had on hand.” Joey explained. “I had some tofu, miso paste and cooking sake onhand, but the rest of it I had to improvise. I didn’t have any daikon radishes on me. Sorry. Still, I tried my best to recreate the recipe.”

Teremy sat down and scooped up some rice and vegetables into a bowl. A sudden flood of emotions tided him over and washed away anything he wanted to say. He instantly reached for the tofu. As he did so, Joey held up a plate of the grilled rail with both hands.

“Here! Try some of this. Hope you like it!”

Joey’s wide smile turned into a smaller, nervous one as Teremy ate the piece of tofu. Then gently cut a piece of rail for himself--Joey noting how properly Teremy held the steak knife and fork in his hands--and Joey pressed his fingers together.

“How is it?” Joey asked slowly.

Teremy chewed thoughtfully and slowly. He stared not at anything in particular in the distance, as though he was looking at a place far back into the First. Once he swallowed, he closed his eyes. “You could spoil me on this.” He smiled.

Joey’s face light up. He smiled brightly. “I’m glad!”

Now with Teremy’s taste buds giving the thumbs up, Joey dished out his own food. The next few moments, the two sat in amicable silence with nothing but the taste of delicious food filling their stomachs. Joey had to admit that he liked watching Teremy eat up, as though doing so was validation in its own way.

Once Teremy finished eating, he put his dishes on his lap. “All right, Joey, you win. From now on, you make food. Then we can call it even.”

“Okay! … wait, even…” Joey looked up and muttered to himself as he counted on his stubby lalafell fingers. “Wait a minute, how is this fair? I’m here helping you do that training stuff and traveling and all I got is following you around-”

“Fair is fair.” Teremy chuckled.

“Hey! Jerk! Meanie!”

“C’mon, you can insult better than that, lightweight.”

Joey didn’t even see Teremy’s arm move, but the next thing the lalafell knew, he saw Teremy’s finger on his own nose. “ACK!! MM!” Joey brushed off Teremy’s hand and his nose.

But Joey couldn’t stay mad at Teremy for too long. After all, how could he stay mad when he heard Teremy laughing so happily?

[guesso-blog1]

[autobio; ~1300 words]

And though my friend would split off and walk a different path, we walked alongside familiar rocks.  Sharp, but cushioning to our (my) news. The old tree, spindling, provided shelter from those that still had; it knew long before I.  

“Wait at the rocks behind the elementary school.  We’ll come and get you.”

“Okay. Love you.”

The tree is no longer there.  It was cut down about a year ago.

The truck was full of home.  Laundry baskets full of clothes we hadn’t worn in years.  Confused, frantic; laptops haphazard.  Not that he would know what to grab.

The tree reached out, bony fingers still trying.

I got in the car but at this point it wasn’t weird to see my parents in the same place.  Just dangerous.

Etta James wanted a Sunday kind of love.  As did I, Etta.  

As did I.

I remember telling myself that there was no point in crying.  Crying wouldn’t bring back what money (a lacking, mis-spending) took away.

We sat in the parking lot behind the K-Mart.  

It’s gone now too.

A skeleton, just as Home, just as we.

“It’s okay, man.”

“I do want to talk I’m just.  Busy.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me I get it.”

“It’s not you.  It’s my parents.  I don’t want you to hear them.  I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

For how so many years have I said these words.  Not many more will I have to. What will it be like to have them at events significant to me?  These words from corners of rooms no longer vocalized but fearful in my throat as newly hatched birds – wet and swaying in limbs, trying to be consoled but having none of it.  Their mother same as mine, constantly going.  How tired, tiring, the birds.

With that I finished all the books on the shelf.  They seemed childish; too simplistic, at the old age of six whole years – almost seven even. My teacher didn’t believe me until I summarized near word for word each story (though she got tired about three stories in, and I had at least twenty more to go.  It always seemed she got tired of me explaining things).

There was a tub under a shelf back where the Teacher’s Desk was.  It smelled of dirt and new adventures.  There were twelve chapter books in it – ones I didn’t have at home.

My tub and I were stared at.  I wasn’t talked to the rest of the day.

But the pages held me, as their grass and tree cousins would on warm days.  I made them my home and friends instead.  They didn’t shame me in the way that small hands and cold eyes do.

That was how I started my Junior year of high school.  

I always found the bare trees in the courtyard funny.  They were beautiful if they ever had leaves, but fall-winter being the longest season, the colors weren’t there to admire.  They spindled, but were too young, too cold to comfort.  They were familiar to me, though, and they knew that mattered.

On the far side of campus were real trees; old, sturdy, rough.  They were fittingly nestled by the art building.  

Why are art buildings always on the far side of campus?

I spent long hours there before and after school.  Wind howling around us, we found comfort in accepting.  But it’s one thing to accept passage, and another to accept hurt.  The latter is something I still wrestle with.

And the storage room across the hall was musty.  We found that we could hide in the cabinets and under the table.  He who checked on me being more a father figure – which he knew.  I never hugged him.  He saw all my tears.

A pretend escape sat behind the building we crammed ourselves into for the weeks when we had nothing.  Its artificial comforts meant nothing to me.  Mostly it was where people took their dogs to shit.

Those two years I made the most I could of.  I learned how to function. Somehow love found more of me.  In that, I never wanted to go back to that place that we called our house.  Home now was in pizza slices, rice bowls, and corner comforts.  I miss it but would never want to go back all at once.

The young trees learned to comfort me.  I watched them, and they whispered their best attempts.  They would never learn to be as the forest was behind my home.  

That was cleared years ago too.

Down the road a ways from where we Were was a winding set of trails through meadows and forests.  It was old, worn, but full of life.  For a time we couldn’t bring ourselves to go back.  We were betrayed.  The nettles stung in wounds still fresh.  As they healed, the trees called us home.  An hour every day was our secret.  Nine miles of nowhere and everywhere.  Nicknames for subtle changes in landscape decided our routes.

My mom, a wonderful art teacher lacking a formal degree (though, what is a degree, anyway), took my senior pictures there.  It was cold and wet but I wouldn’t have it any other way.  We forgot for those hours deep in the embrace of our natural home what the house definitely wasn’t.  We smiled and laughed.  I don’t think she understands why I chose those moments precious to me over getting studio pictures or a class ring that I would never wear.  At the same time I believe she does.  Maybe I just don’t let her know in the ways she needs.

We are closest when we are with our Natural Mother.  As sanctuaries have changed over the years, we venture further; exploring mountainsides and valleys calling us Home.  

The trees here are so different.  I have learned to speak their language as well.

Smiles came easier once we reached warmer months.  The whole cap and gown business that has been described in thousands of ways.  

I was (and still am) learning how to be a person.  I was (and still am) glad that I didn’t die.

We didn’t hold hands during the ceremony.  People thought we were siblings, trying to make our way.  This never bothered me.  I found our Christian-Side-Hug-Shoulder-Pat in the end fitting.  I didn’t want to be more vulnerable in front of our whole town than I already was. Neither of us did.

And these warmer months and warmer months again allowed for conversations on the worn Used-To-Be-A-Hospital now Kind-Of-On-Base campus.  The lavender, again, on the far side of campus, was brought in after being picked by the student that wouldn’t sit still.  “Does anyone even notice this stuff?  It’s lavender, right?  It smells good and the bees that fly around it aren’t the mean ones.  We always walk by it but no one ever really mentions it”.  

I didn’t have the heart to explain they were my friends just as those who walked with me by the rocks, sharp and comforting.  I tucked myself away between semi-abandoned buildings, just behind the lavender and under the tree on dry days, watching the water and limbs move with coastal breezes.  They helped me as I read textbooks, repetitive in nature to those who had researched such things at the old age of sixteen whole years – almost seventeen even.  Tiring now was getting three pages in, and still having twenty more to go.  Such a shame.

My gateway sits in that Pass.  The strange mountains and trees, bare and thinner, but beautiful in their own way.  Those colors reserved for quiet times of day fill splotches here.  Greens of different shades, more yellow.  The blue-grey-purple turns brown-grey-tan as the rivers light our path. It removes me from that time and place so I don’t hurt as much.  They welcomed me as I came, small car flowing down the hills, all too telling of where we had been.  They called my name and knew for a time they could be of help.  Two years is but a blink of an eye.  I have nestled down in this burg for now.

We are almost free.