#woke up at 6am and started scribbling

[loiswolf]

Day 3 May 18 Carrick-on-Shannon - Donegal 110kms

Day 3 May 18 Carrick-on-Shannon - Donegal 110kms

Today started at 4am when I woke with burning thighs. Don’t know how that happened! I eventually got up at 6am and had an early breakfast, then another one provided by the BnB. It was pretty good and really filled me up. It also meant I didn’t get away until 8:30. I had spent ages scribbling down notes on todays route but it turns out I didn’t need them. There were signs to the significant towns I knew I was passing through so all I had to do was follow them.

This worked well in the morning anyway. It was a beautiful morning! The sun was shining. The turn-off was just a few hundred meters from the BnB and the scenery lovely as usual.

There was even a tail wind which strengthened during the day making me glad I wasn’t going in the opposite direction. The terrain was undulating, the road  smooth and Shirley sailed along beautifully. Since I was still full from breakfast I decided to ride just under 50kms to Manorhamilton before having a break. This was where all the signs were pointing so I had high hopes for a good cafe. This photo is from the top of the hill just before Manorhamilton.

Luckily I noticed a sign advertising a cafe called The Loft, on top of the local supermarket. I rolled up to the supermarket, looped a chain around Shirley and made my way upstairs to enjoy this.

There was even wifi and a view over the town from my table.

After an enjoyable break spent studying the map I rode out of town stopping to chat to an Irish cyclist who wanted to give me tips on my route. He couldn’t quite understand which way I was going. Now I know why! First I had to tackle the biggest climb of the day. It wasn’t too bad and the run down the other side was great.

The view from the road changed a little and I was winding my way around lakes.

 Somewhere I entered Northern Ireland. The roads deteriorated and the signs with directions became scarce. I managed to get to Belleek without any trouble but then things went a bit wrong. Belleek was rather bleak and I saw more of it than I bargained for when I followed the road out. It was the only real road but I seemed to be climbing towards the east and copping the wind more than I had all day. A map check revealed I had gone up that hill for no reason so I rolled back down into Belleek and turned into a small side street with a sign pointing to a car park. Yep, I checked the map, this was it. I realised then I had put the bike option in. I really should know better by now.

It was a actually a real road which wound between lakes and rivers.

Quite enjoyable really. After about 5kms I checked the map again to find that now I was way off route again out to the west this time. I decided to keep going another 5kms to Ballyshannon and join the N14. I was here 3 years ago so was pretty confident I knew what I was doing.

Getting up onto the motorway was quite tricky. I asked a couple of locals but they both gave directions that would lead to the wrong side. I should have been more specific. After checking the map again I figured it out and looped around then up onto the N14. I had forgotten there was a long slow ascent to tackle first. The downhill was great but these roads are not as smooth as the lesser roads and there was a lot of roadwork….again! At least the road wasn’t closed this time and I used the time at the stop/go holdup to eat a quick chocolate bar.

I cycled the last 15kms into Donegal fairly quickly, assisted by the tailwind and mostly downhill runs.

Tomorrow is definitely going to be shorter! I’m hoping I won’t wake up with burning thighs again tonight and can sleep in instead.

Just hopped up to take photo out my window and it’s raining again. Typical Ireland!!

[essouffle]

[cherrywoes]

002 | CONTROL

002.

Strong language, some sexual references.

YOU DIDN'T SEE USHIJIMA for over a month after that particular incident. Between your various promotions in Brazil, Paris, and Venice by Akaashi's requests, you had no time for homebound work much less returning to Tokyo for a brief siesta with the man who was plaguing your dreams. He was a menace even when he wasn't there with you—not that you were necessarily complaining. Just the thought of him got you off faster than anything else you could have produced in the heat of the moment, and it surprised you every time the aftershocks wore off and you were trying to catch your breath.

If it were anyone else, you would have been ashamed every time thoughts of that photoshoot kept you awake until three in the morning or blindsided you in the middle of company meetings while Akaashi was briefing you on how you should do your runway turns and pauses for the crowd to show off the ridiculous slits in the gowns he'd designed for a summer collection.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was a different breed of man entirely, you'd give him that much.

Gnawing on the cap of your pen, you tapped your fingers on the corner of your desk and eyed the reference photos Akaashi had sent you so you would know how you would be appearing on the runway. A lot of them were primarily focused on shoulders, knees, calves, and hips, with an unusual emphasis on the curvature of your neck. You scribbled down a note to start your neck exercises to make sure the skin was taut and smooth before the show and, as an afterthought, sadly crossed out sugar from your diet plan.

Sometimes you hated your dietitian's planners. Your meals were planned out from morning to noon, with small snacks in between usually of protein shakes and fruit with a limited amount. While you sometimes cheated and drank soda or ate oatmeal with enough sugar to sink a battleship, you usually stuck to your diet even if it was something you didn't like—you eyed the plate of asparagus, spinach, and salmon sitting on your desk that you'd poked around at but had yet to eat. You'd most likely skip the meal entirely and replace it with something else later.

Before you could close your laptop for the night and squirm out of the designer shirt and pants you wore, the gaping slash from neck to navel leaving you chilly, a facetime call popped up on your screen, reading 'Annoying Ass Cat' or, simply, Kuroo.

You answered without a second thought. You hadn't had time to see either him or Kenma like you had wanted besides intercepting their bills and paying them yourself, even though the gamer was cautiously making his way back into the scene much to his fans delight. You would pop in the chats whenever you had the time, the time zone difference manageable for you. While it was 2PM in Tokyo, it was 6AM in Venice, right as you were waking up and eating breakfast, so you'd watch and interact with Kenma while you got ready for the day. Kuroo was there sometimes or was at work depending on the day, but you were happy to see your boys were okay even if it was through a gaming stream.

"[Name]!" Kuroo exclaimed as the screen came up, revealing your bare face and the backdrop of nighttime over Venice in the window behind you. He was sitting somewhere in the kitchen and you could see Kenma poke his head from around a corner when he shouted your name. "How's Venice? No, how was Paris? Your Instagram was full of pictures there especially."

You laughed and set your pen down on a notepad. "It's really beautiful here, I promise. I prefer Venice over Paris though, there's a tranquility here that Paris just doesn't have. But I only have one more show before Akaashi's letting me fly home for a while."

"That's good, me and Kenma miss you," he said with a wide grin. You watched the shorter male nod in agreement behind him and add,"I miss playing COD with you and ignoring Kuroo."

"Hey!" said male gasped, offended.

"I miss you guys too." You smiled and leaned back in your chair, picking the pen back up and twirling it between your fingers. "Kenma, have you gotten rid of your… uh… worm problem?"

He scowled at you briefly when you snorted at your little joke. "Yes, I have. The doctors said I should be perfectly healthy by next week."

"Finally," Kuroo guffawed. "I'm tired of thinking they're gone and then have them come right back and you get sick again."

Kenma just shrugged. You laughed lightly and opened your mouth to comment on the new clothes Kuroo was wearing since they were from Akaashi's collection when your phone pinged with a message.

"Who's that?" Kuroo asked when you reached over to pick up your phone, flipping the screen face up to scan the contact name. He watched your eyes slowly widen and a dark blush creep up your face, darker than he'd ever seen it in normal lighting, and a strangled squeak force its way past your lips. "[Name]?"

You worried at your bottom lip, glancing at the name 'Ushijima' sitting innocently in your notifications and then back to Kuroo and Kenma, who were both silently waiting for your answer to who it was. You could tell them, of course, and you would feel guilty for it—because Ushijima was your best kept fantasy, as much as you'd deny it, and the incident at the beach wasn't something you wanted to share with either of them. They were your best friends, but you had to draw the line in the sand somewhere…

And you were drawing it at Ushijima Wakatoshi.

"Akaashi has a dress he wants me to model," you choked out, ignoring Ushijima's text and opening up Akaashi's contact to pull up the risque dress he'd sent you when you landed in Venice. It didn't bother you but you needed an excuse for the flush on your face; Kuroo wouldn't know the difference. It was a bright orange number, more akin to two banners of silk wrapped around your throat and taped to cover your breasts and angle between your legs, held together by a heavy jeweled belt. You held your phone up to the laptop camera and heard Kenma let out a surprised grunt. "I know. It's not his usual work, but he wanted something for summer and… well. That's summer."

Kuroo seemed appeased by your answer, at least. "I think you could pull it off. I'll have to watch the show when it airs."

You felt relief too soon. If there was anything you didn't want either of them to do it was watch this particular show, filled with more skin and silk and nudity than you'd ever show them in polite company, your current shirt aside. It was almost like showing yourself to two overtly awkward boyfriends and expecting them to ignore you, which they wouldn't, and try not to evoke certain reactions, which they would. But you couldn't exactly tell them that, now could you?

"Way to inspire anxiety," you said, instead, fingers hovering over Ushijima's unread text. You sorely wanted to read it, but you couldn't in front of them. It felt too secret, too intimate, even though you hadn't exchanged another word with the man besides the text he'd sent you as you had left the shoot that day. "If I trip and fall it's your fault."

Kuroo grinned rakishly. "I'd bet on it."

You spent a few more moments talking to them before excusing yourself for bed. It was midnight where you were and you were getting drowsy, but the thought of Ushijima's text was enough to get you going. You would probably crash later, but your curiosity was killing you.

With a few air kisses to them both, you ended the call and stared at your phone lying on your desk, as if such a simple piece of technology didn't have the capability of turning your emotions upside down.

"Here goes nothing," you mumbled and opened the text, holding your breath and your hand over your mouth.

'Congratulations.'

Underneath he'd attached an image, and it took you a few minutes to realize what you were looking at. The main piece, which he was referring to, was a glossy magazine cover with you plastered on the front in Akaashi's lingerie line, where you'd been seated on a throne, given a scepter, and a crown that was tastefully askew on your head. You had the same photo printed and framed in Akaashi's office, one of his favorites, and your first front cover for this magazine. The magazine was laying in his lap, legs spread in what looked like an expensive leather chair, and you just barely made out the toe of his shoes and the pinstripes in his pants. You did see Nox's ear in the top corner, making you giggle just a bit.

You felt just a little pathetic at analyzing every facet of the innocent photo, but you assured yourself that you were just curious and you could learn a lot from how someone took photos.

'Thank you,' you typed back, then pulled your lip between your teeth. What else to add? 'I didn't think you'd see that, haha.'

Too nervous to watch him potentially reply, you tossed your phone on your hotel bed and pulled on your pajamas, ignoring the ping of his text back while you pulled your t-shirt over your head. When you were comfortable and felt somewhat more calm, you burrowed underneath the heavy hotel sheets and opened the text.

'Why wouldn't I?' He'd written. 'You're very eye catching, [Name]. Although that isn't what I texted you for.'

Anxiety hit you like a truck.

'Then what did you need?'

You gnawed on your nail, careful not to leave marks on the filed tips, and watched as three little periods popped up as he typed his reply. He took his time, that was for certain, and you were expecting a paragraph by the time he'd finished, but to your surprise—your heart fluttered and dropped down to your belly when you read it—it was just one simple word.

'You.'

You never regretted falling asleep more in your life. Somehow you'd gotten too comfortable and your eyes had slipped closed against your will. You'd slept until your alarm woke you and you'd sworn it was just a dream, except you nearly spit out your black coffee when you went back to the texts that morning. You felt bad about not replying, but soon it left your mind in a flurry of silks, chiffon, and lace and the chaos that was Akaashi's fashion show.

The next time you thought about those texts, it was on your flight home to Tokyo. You'd had a few glasses of champagne to celebrate not tripping on the runway, much to Kuroo's disappointment, and had typed a reply without a thought to the consequences of replying over a week later.

'Why me?' It was simple but you'd lost the nerve to type anything more. You'd have to have more to drink to type up anything more than that. Surprisingly, he was awake so early in the morning: a glance at the clock revealed it was 2 A.M. What was he doing awake so late?

'Why not you?' Was his reply, as if that explained anything.

Frustrated, you downed the rest of your champagne and requested for something stronger from the flight attendant. She blinked at you in surprise, but went to retrieve a bottle of whiskey like you'd asked while you typed up another alcohol fueled reply.

'You don't even know me,' you typed, nails clacking against the screen,'and other than nearly cumming on your leg in front of fifteen photographers, I don't know you either.'

With a huff, you slammed your phone down right as the flight attendant returned with a bottle of high grade whiskey. You drank straight from the bottle instead of using a glass, praising the perks of flying first class, and watched as Ushijima's response lit up your phone.

'I know more about you than you think, [Name].'

Eyebrows furrowing, you sat back in your seat and stared at the screen, dumbfounded and a little buzzed.

'What the hell does that mean?'

He never answered you after that. You pounded back the rest of the bottle in less than an hour and curled up on the couch near the back, knowing fully well that you'd wake up nursing the worst hangover known to man. You never did handle alcohol well, or at all. But you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was an infuriatingly handsome enigma wrapped up in a quiet, stern package with a dash of mischief that seemed rare and unseen. You wanted to unwrap this mystery and with every interaction he just seemed to add more layers, more mystery to himself, so much so that you couldn't help but wonder who he really was, or what he wanted with you.

By the time you got back to Tokyo, it was six in the morning. The airport was unusually empty and besides the paparazzi catching you and snapping a few photos of your "airport outfit"—a loose Gucci Oxford button up (which was Akaashi's and somehow made it into your bag, probably after he'd given it to you when you spilled tea all over yourself last week) half tucked and draped over a pair of leggings with tasteful ladders cut into the thighs and knees—and shouted several questions at you even though your hangover made you want to beat the hell out of your skull.

"[Name], you look awful." Ayano greeted you at the exit, wearing designer everything from head to toe and looking exceptionally glamorous for it. You could faintly smell men's cologne on her and automatically assumed she had been on a date—or was just finishing up a hookup, judging by how she'd tried to fix her makeup and failed. "Don't you have breakfast plans with that famous dietitian?"

"Who?" You squinted into the dawn sunlight and fumbled for a pair of sunglasses in your purse, slapping them on your face with a grimace. "You mean Iwaizumi Hajime? One, he's a sports dietitian, and two, I'm only doing it to track down where the hell Oikawa went so I can wring his pretty little neck."

"That sounds like an unexplored kink," Ayano teased. She snickered when you slapped her lightheartedly; she seemed much better off being able to go home earlier than you had. "I'm joking. I don't know where exactly in Argentina he went. I'm sure if anyone knows it's Iwaizumi."

You hummed in agreement. "Which is why I need you to figure out his schedule so I can jump in on his breakfast or lunch."

She sighed. "I knew there was something you weren't telling me."

"But you love me," you grinned, blowing her a kiss and hopping in the passenger seat with renewed gusto despite your pounding headache.

Ayano stepped into the driver's seat a moment later with an even more exaggerated sigh. "Unfortunately."

Thirty minutes and a few well placed bribes later, you had a printout of Iwaizumi's schedule from Monday to Sunday, with even fine details written in the margins. You flicked the paper out and pushed your sunglasses up, holding it up against the sunlight so you could read and block it at the same time.

"Breakfast at Onigiri Miya," you read slowly, eyebrows raising. "Orders the plain Onigiri and soy sauce with water to drink; later has a twenty milligram protein shake and salmon patties for a snack. Who wrote this, a superfan disguised as a pseudo secretary?"

Ayano groaned and turned the music down at your observation. "Are you going to go or not?  Because we're here."

Your gaze darted forward to look around. "Where?"

She gestured to the small building she'd parked outside. "Onigiri Miya."

It was a cozy little shop, you'd give that. Ayano had allowed you to change before dropping you off, so now you wore a pair of Louboutins, a stylish pair of washed jeans, and the same button up but tucked in tight underneath a plain Chanel belt. A few of the morning customers eyed you as you walked in, but to your surprise no one was at the counter.

You spotted Iwaizumi Hajime out of the corner of your eye while you waited, completely oblivious to your presence and enjoying his Onigiri and soy sauce. The schedule had been right after all. You pursed your lips and turned your head back to face the menu, except there was now a man standing in front of you—and judging by the way he was looking at you, he recognized you, his eyes slightly wide.

"I—Uh—How can I help you?" He blustered, running a hand through his yellow hair. His nametag read 'Miya Atsumu' and underneath, scrawled in permanent marker, was an angry 'Part-Timer'. "Would you like to know the specials for today?"

"No thank you. I'll take the plain Onigiri, please, and water." You smiled and took pleasure in the way he blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. He was a handsome man, you had to say, if a little awkward.

"Sure thing!" Atsumu put in your order and you paid with your card. When he went to the back, he said,"Switch!"

You tapped your fingernails against the counter and observed the scratches in the cheap tile. When you looked up again, a bored grin on your face, you felt your stomach shrivel up and try to escape to the floor at the familiar face before you.

"Terushima Yuuji," you said sourly, grin fading to a harsh line. "What a surprise."

"[Name]?" He had the balls to look surprised to see you standing there—and really, he should be. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of you since you'd ended things with him when he cheated on you several months ago. "Wow. You look… good."

"Of course I do." You scowled and held out your hand. "My change?"

"Oh. Uh… Here. Three sixty." He dropped it into your waiting palm. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Am I not allowed to be here?" You questioned, your voice acidic. Your plan to ambush Iwaizumi was put on the back burner so you could rip Terushima a new one. Seeing his face after all this time made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp. "Whatever. Give me my Onigiri and I'll leave."

"But—"

"Goodbye." You twirled on your heel and headed for the door to sit outside where you weren't in the same room as him.

What you weren't expecting was the warmth of soup being tossed at the back of your head, or the feeling of hands clawing into your hair.

Six years of Taijutsu training kicked in and before you knew it, you had a girl sprawled out on the floor, her nose streaming vermillion rivers and her lip swelling up to concerning proportions. Your knuckles burned with the force and before you could nudge her body away, Yuuji leaped forward to check on the girl with panicked eyes.

"Babe?" He shook her, only receiving a groan in reply. "Answer me!"

Oh, this day just couldn't have gotten any worse could it? And it was all Oikawa's fault.

003.

MASTERLIST.

TAGLIST: @momowhoo | +++

Feedback is appreciated! 💕

[catb-fics]

Distractions 💓

Warnings: smut / Word count: 1.9k

Van had been back from tour for precisely one week and you felt like you hadn't spent any quality time together. The label were pressuring him to get album number four written and he wasn't being himself at all.

Every morning that you woke up the bed sheets beside you were cold and you'd find him downstairs in the kitchen, cuppa and cigarette in hand, scribbling in his old battered notebook whilst cradling his acoustic guitar.

Yesterday morning you'd come to stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his chest, burying your face in his neck, and he'd stopped what he was doing for a moment.

"It's 6am Van, come on, come back to bed," you'd said softly.

He was wearing a shirt which hung open and you'd let your hands caress his bare chest. He'd shifted in the seat, turning his head back to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Morning Y/N, I'd love to but this album's not gonna write itself."

You'd sighed, unwrapping your arms from around him and stepping away. There was a time that Van wouldn't have been able to resist an invitation like that.

You try to tell yourself that he's just tired and under pressure but a little seed of doubt has planted itself in your head. Maybe you've lost your touch?

That evening you try to persuade Van to take a break and come out for a drink with you. You used to while away hours in the local pub, chatting about life, getting tipsy and flirty until neither of you could wait any longer and you'd tumble into a taxi, desperate to get home and tear each other's clothes off.

"Sorry Y/N, I'm pretty tired tonight. I'm just gonna stay in. Why don't you go out and see your friends? You'll have fun."

You try to push the worries away but now you really think there's something wrong. You end up going for drinks with your friends like he suggests but it's not fun. All you're doing is thinking of Van and after several glasses of wine your mind is dredging up all sorts of worries.

"What if he met someone else when he was on tour?" You fret.

Your friends all try to quell your fears but it's no use. You've not been intimate at all since he's been back. Your mind goes to the previous evening when you nuzzled up to him in bed, letting your hands make lazy trails down his chest to the waistband of his boxers and he stopped you, murmuring that he was tired. Something's wrong.

You finish your wine and call a cab, arriving back at the house you bought together the previous year, feeling full of doubt. You've been rehearsing what you're going to say to Van all the way home, but you feel nervous now. 

You hear his voice as you start towards the living room.

"Bloody hell Larry, come on mate, play fair!"

Your heart sinks. He won't come out for a drink with you but he's invited his best mate Larry round? You push open the door but Larry's nowhere to be seen. You're confused for a moment until your eyes go to the TV and you can see that Van's locked in an online FIFA battle with his friend, whilst talking to him on the PlayStation headset. Great, he'd rather play video games than spend time with you now.

"Alright love? You have a nice time?" He says, eyes never leaving the screen.

You don't answer and he doesn't even seem to notice. You don't think he's even looked up since you've entered the room. You flop down on the sofa next to him, sighing. Once he gets embroiled in a competition with Larry on this game you don't stand a chance of getting his attention.

"Van, we need to talk." You hope your serious tone will make him look away from the screen, but it's not happening.

"Later babe, I'm on a winning streak here," he says, then his voice raises excitedly as he addresses his friend. "You're going down Larry!"

You move closer to him, placing a hand on his thigh. He's sitting forward, perched on the edge of the sofa. You study his perfect profile. He really is gorgeous. Concentration is etched on his face as he plays and chats to Larry. His hair's gotten so long at the moment. It falls down around his ears and practically reaches his shoulders. You lean over, brushing it back, planting a little kiss on his neck, then another. You know there's a little spot just behind his ear that makes him squirm when you kiss it so you concentrate on there, moving your hand across his thigh, inching higher. He shifts in the seat.

He suddenly tenses. He's conceded a goal and you can tell Larry's teasing him over the headset.

"That's not fair mate. It's Y/N, she's... distracting me!"

You've moved your hand even higher now, it's on his inner thigh.

"Babe..." he whispers to you, but he doesn't sound annoyed.

"Don't let me distract you," you breath into his ear, your lips returning to his neck where you lick and nip at the skin.

You start to unbutton his shirt and he doesn't resist. You slide your hands over his lean chest, further and further down until you reach the buttons of his jeans. You watch for a reaction as you tug the buttons open but he carries on playing.

You edge closer and slide your hands down the front of his jeans, hearing him take a sharp intake of breath as your fingers close around his cock. He's still chatting with Larry though. Maybe you need to up your game.

You slowly begin to move your hand up and down, still kissing his neck. You pause, smiling to yourself as Van's voice comes out a little shaky. You can feel his body responding now. Finally! At least part of him is paying attention.

"Fuck!" He curses. It looks like he won't be winning this game after all. A quick glance at the screen shows the score is now 3-2 to Larry.

You withdraw your hand, leaving your seat on the sofa and kneeling down on the floor, pushing Van's knees apart to allow you room to kneel in the space there. His eyes leave the screen and meet yours and you look back at him, wide-eyed, feigning innocence.

"You just carry on playing. Don't mind me..."

He shakes his head slightly, a little smirk turning the corners of his mouth up, and his gaze flicks back to the screen.

You reach up and grab the waistband of his jeans, starting to tug them down. You wonder whether Van will comply but he does, easing his body up slightly off the seat so you can slide his jeans down. You peel them down his legs and chuck them aside.    

It's pretty obvious now that he's fully aroused, as you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slowly inch them down, freeing his erection.

You lean forward, brushing your lips gently over the tip of his cock, lightly running your tongue over.

"Larry mate, think I'm gonna have to go," Van's voice comes out a little high pitched and you pull away, smiling up at him.

"I think you should carry on," you say. "Thought you were supposed to be good at this game!"

His eyes narrow slightly, you can tell he's considering this like some sort of challenge. To be honest it's kind of turning you on, like you're Van's dirty little secret.

He bites his bottom lip, giving you a look as if to say you're in trouble later, and you just shrug, giving him a sultry look.

"Right mate, I've been easy on you so far, but I'm back now!"

You lean forward again, licking slowly from the base to the tip of his cock, then swirling your tongue lightly over the tip, then you plant little kisses all over the end. You can tell it's driving Van crazy by the way his body twitches. You know what he wants but you're not giving it to him yet, enjoying teasing him.

"Hold on a sec Larry," you hear him say, then he places a firm hand at the back of your head, urging you to look up whilst he leans down to you. His lips mash into yours with an urgency that takes your breath away, his tongue exploring your mouth.

He breaks away after a second, looking at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

"You're so gonna get it Y/N," he whispers to you, his hand covering the mic.

He releases you, grabbing the PlayStation controller with both hands, and within a minute you hear him cheer as he equalises. Right, that's it!

You place your lips on the end of his shaft whilst grasping the base, sliding your lips firmly down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can take, then slowly you begin to bob your head up and down. You can feel Van's hips shifting and a low moan escapes him. You wonder if Larry can hear it.

Suddenly you stop, hovering over his lap, looking up at him with a seductive smile on your lips. "Sorry, am I distracting you? Shall I stop?"

Van's eyes are simmering with lust and he shakes his head. His lips are slightly parted. He looks so desirable at that moment. You slowly lower your head, beginning again to lightly graze the head of his cock with your lips, all the time steadily maintaining eye contact with him. You know this drives him wild.

"Fucking hell," he breathes, his eyes almost rolling back in his head.

You firmly grasp him again, pumping your hand up and down the shaft, using your lips too. His breathing deepens.

"Larry, I really gotta go now!" He manages to say in between ragged gasps.

He chucks the controller down on the sofa, and rips the headset off, also flinging that down. You hope he's ended the call or Larry will get an earful.

"Y/N..." he gasps, his hands going to your hair where he grasps a handful, winding it around his fist.

He's lost control now, panting heavily, bucking his hips up. You don't hold back, bobbing your head up and down in rhythm with the thrust of his hips, not letting up until you feel his whole body tense as he reaches his climax.

He spills into your mouth and you swallow everything he's given you, eventually pulling away and looking up at him. You've definitely got his full attention now. He's looking at you like you're heaven-sent.

"Y/N I love you so much, you do know that don't you?" He says, reaching for you and pulling you on to his lap.

"Uh-huh," you nod, all your previous worries falling away. "Sorry I made you lose!" You add, giggling.

Van's eyes darken at this comment, and his eyes sparkle mischievously. "Yeah, well... don't think you're getting away with that! Now I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson..."

[solaneceae]

EGOTOBER DAY 6 - Coffee

Henrik knew from the get-go that this was going to be a shitty day.

Now, today was supposed to be his first off day in… months? Years? He wasn’t sure. He’d been against it of course, but his insufferable colleagues kept pestering him about “healthy work balance” and “self-care” and other nonsense of the same caliber. It had gotten to such a degree that even his boss had stepped in, basically ordering him -Schneep didn’t take no orders from no-one, thank you very much- to take a week off.

“I have some patients in the west wing that look healthier than you do right now, Henrik.” his boss had said. He’d then taken a long look at the ego’s face and shaken his head. “Scratch that, all of them do. I don’t need one of my best doctors to burn out on me, do you understand?”

So now here he was, slowly waking up in his room back home, with nothing to look forward to.  Schneep sighed and draped an arm over his eyes, blocking off the light coming from the slits between his blinds. He could faintly hear Chase’s laughter coming from downstairs, as well as Robbie’s delighted cries; they were probably playing a game of sorts. That was odd. Those two weren’t usually up so earl-

Wait a minute.

He jerked his arm off his face, a sense of urgency rushing through him. His bedroom was too bright, his body too heavy with the remnants of sleep, his bed too warm. What time- 

The German clumsily fished out his phone from under his pillow and unlocked it, wincing at the harsh light of the screen. His jaw dropped.

“11AM?! Mist!”

This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening, his phone always woke him up at 6AM sharp, every single day. But as he opened the clock app, he realized his trusty alarm was… gone. Not even turned off, just straight up missing. 

He was pretty sure he’d remember deleting it -not that he ever would. Was this some sort of glitch…?

His face twisted in rage as he realized. This motherfucker.

The little shit was gonna get an earful when Henrik found him. The doctor threw the covers off of him and jumped out of bed -ouch, his head pounded at the sudden movement. Note to self, get some ibuprofen before going downstairs.

He couldn’t believe he’d just slept for twelve hours. This would not stand; he couldn’t just laze around all day, he’d go insane. He was a man of action, god dammit! Staying idle wasn’t an option, not in a million years. God, to think he had a week left of this nonsense. His coworkers hadn’t even let him bring his files, what was he supposed to do?!

The voices coming from under him grabbed his attention again, planting an idea in his mind: it had been a while since he’d put his siblings through a proper medical checkup. Perhaps they were overdue for one. A neurotic smile grew on his face as he started to frantically put on some clothes, despite the floor slightly rocking beneath his feet. Yes, he needed to make sure everyone was healthy, update their medical files, and check if Jackie’s ribs were still healing properly from his latest scuffle, and after that he could reorganize his office downstairs -something he’d be putting off for a while- and, and, and-

 ***

 “Gunten tag, Marvin. How have you been lately?”

The magician squirmed in his seat, looking around Henrik’s office with an aggravated expression. “Can’t we postpone this? I have a show to prep for this evening…” “I assure you, this won’t take long. I’ve haven’t been home as much these last few weeks, I figured it was time for a check-up.” “You did one last month-” “How’re your burns? Do you change your bandages every day?”

The green-haired magician frowned under his mask; his brother wasn’t listening, and he was usually the one pestering the rest of them about communication and honesty. Something wasn’t right. “... yeah. And I’m taking a break from potion making until they’re healed, like you told me to.”

The German nodded, scribbling something in his grey notebook. “Gud. I appreciate the basement not blowing up every other day.” “Oh come on, you’re exaggerating,” Marvin protested, straightening up in his chair, “My potions don’t explode, they’re just… feisty.” “Right, right. Of course.” the doctor mumbled dismissively, still not tearing his eyes away from the papers on his desk.

The masked man blinked. Okay, something was definitely up; Schneep would never miss an opportunity to berate him about the “dangerous and volatile experiments” of his. And was it the lighting in the room or did his counterpart seem a little paler than normal? “Hey, doc… is something wrong? You’re being less of an ass that usual.”

Henrik stopped writing, looking up at his patient. He pursed his lips in annoyance. “First of all, I take offense to that. Und nothing’s wrong.” he stated before taking a sip of his morning coffee -or afternoon coffee? His inner clock was all over the place today.

The magician tilted his head, doubtful. Maybe he should ask Anti to keep an eye on the older ego, just in case. Be useful for once. “If you’re sure… are we done here? I asked Yan to give me a ride downtown, they should pick me up in a few.”

Schneep’s grey eyes squinted in confusion. Yan? As in, the red-haired Iplier that dressed like a japanese schoolgirl? “He has his licence?” “They,” Marv emphasized, “don’t. They drive a bike, and yes I’ll wear a helmet, stars.” The German nodded. “They, my apologies. I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”

Marvin fiddled with the hem of his cape, averting his gaze. “We- it’s a recent thing. I know you and the glitch bitch don’t like us hanging out with the Ipliers, but Robbie introduced us and-” “Robbie?!”

He stopped. Henrik was staring at him, dumbfounded. That’s when Marvin realized he’d just, as Anti would say, fucked up. “...shit. He didn’t tell you, did he.” “Tell me what? That he’s been hanging out with the Ipliers behind my back?! They’re dangerous!” “You hang out with their doctor all the time! How is this any different?”

Schneep grit his teeth at the mention of his friend and colleague, and pushed back the unwanted thoughts. “We work together, und he’s a sensible person who doesn’t stab people left and right!”

Marvin bristled, hands clutching the fabric of his pants “Yan doesn’t-”

The doctor interrupted him, raising his hands in a placating manner. “I- look, I’m sorry I snapped, okay? I don’t know them, not like you seem to do, so it’s not my place to judge.” He sighted, something soft crossing his features. “I know you can handle yourself, Marv, so if you want to make friends with Dark’s family, I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop you, that would be hypocritical of me. But Robbie is-”

“What? An idiot? Clueless? Is that what you think?”

Schneep growled, massaging his temples. That stupid headache was coming back. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Robbie is far from stupid, but he’s not like the rest of us, you know that. He’s… innocent. I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

A pregnant pause. The magician fell back in his chair, shaking his head. “Hen… he’s not a child, even if you and Chase and… pretty much everyone here thinks of him that way. If you think he’s too naive to make his own decisions, then you might not know him as well as you think you do.”

Henrik chuckled bitterly. “Not as much as you do apparently, if he didn’t trust me enough to tell me himself.”

“He does trust you… but he also knows how protective of us you are. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t let him see them if you found out.” Marvin shrugged. “And from your reaction just now, I can see why he would.”

The doctor groaned; god dammit, this wasn’t how he had planned to spend his day. Looked like he and the zombie were due for a talk. “Does Anti know about this?”

His patient laughed. “Hell no, he’d throw a hissy fit if he found out. That guy goes full-on when it comes to Rob. Honestly, I think you and me are the only ones in the know for now.”

Henrik hummed and closed his notebook, signaling the end of the consultation. “I suppose. You can leave now, send in Anti next please. Und tell Robbie to come see me when I’ll be done with the rest of you.” “You’re not gonna lecture him too, are you?”

He shook his head, peering into his now empty mug. He needed more coffee. “If he truly understands what he’s getting into, then I won’t have a say on the matter. But I need to hear it from him.”

“Sounds reasonable enough.” the magician breathed out, standing back up. “He should still be with Chase, I’ll tell him to drop by later.” he smirked, adjusting his mask over his face.  “God, you’re such a mother Hen.”

“Get out of my office before I tranq you.”

 ***

 “You look like shit.” “Blunt as always I see.”

Anti smirked. The demon sat crossed-legged on the chair, like the bringer of chaos he was. “I’m just stating a fact, doc. And the fact is, you look like crap.”

“I didn’t summon you here to hear you critique my appearance. And I definitely don’t appreciate you messing with my phone. Why would you even do that?”

The green-haired glitch shrugged. “Thought it’d be funny.” “It really wasn’t.” “Never said it’d be funny to you...”

The German rolled his eyes. “This conversation has no purpose, I say we move on. How’s your neck wound?”

“Same as ever, only bleeds when I overuse my powers. But you know that already. Is there a point to this, or are you just finding excuses to keep busy?”

Henrik growled in frustration, resting his head in his clammy palms; he didn’t have the energy to deal with the glitch’s taunts right now. His arms were shaking from all the caffeine he’s been inhaling for the past hour, his head wouldn’t stop pounding and gottverdammnt, was it always this hot in this madhouse?!

He looked back up and jumped back with a startled yelp; Anti had glitched onto his desk, his face only a few inches away from his. His mocking grin was gone, replaced with an unusually serious expression. He squinted, something akin to concern flashing in his acid green eyes. “... you really are sick, aren’t you. Did you even eat today?” “I’m fine.” “Stop it. I fucking hate it when you lie.” “I’m not!”

The glitch huffed at the other’s stubbornness. “Whatever. It’s your funeral.”

 ***

 “... barely even hurts anymore, and- uh, Hen? You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so hot…”

Henrik blinked sluggishly at the blurry red figure in front of him; he didn’t remember Jackie coming in. He ran a shaky hand through his hair; it was damp and stuck to his forehead.

Had he asked Anti to send the hero in? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t remember Anti leaving his office either. Also, he felt like throwing up. That was concerning.

He mumbled something, not noticing he had reverted back into his mother tongue. Jackie’s concerned face kept sliding out of view, everything was spinning out of his control.

“Wh- dude, I can’t understand you and frankly, you’re starting to freak me out.”

He tried to stand; he needed to get out, get out of his stuffy office and maybe stand in the cold rain for a while, get rid of this suffocating heat and his sudden nausea-

The world tilted on its axis, and next time he blinked, he was on the floor. Huh. It was more comfortable than he expected it to be.

“Sh- Hen?! What... ...rik! Can… me? Guys, I… help!”

The rooms spinned faster and faster as he felt his eyes roll back into his head. And then he felt nothing at all.

 ***

 Everything hurts.

His limbs feel like lead and it’s like his ears are filled with cotton. He can vaguely make out the muffled voices of his family, and a quiet sob coming from somewhere in his right.

Schneep lets out a pained croak; his mouth tastes like iron. Shit, he must’ve bit his tongue when he collapsed.

“Oh shit, he’s coming back!” “Sshhhh, it’s okay Robbie, don’t cry… Henrik? Hen, can you hear us?” “Hey, doc? Blink twice if you’re not dead.”

“Verpiss dich.” he groans. His whole world is burning, something is definitely trying to claw its way out of his skull, and he wants it to stop.

Someone snorts; he can’t tell who, his mind isn’t working right. “I think he just insulted me, so he’s fine.”

He forces his eyes open -jesus, everything looks like an oversaturated blob right now- pushing on his trembling arms in an attempt to sit up.

“Oh no you don’t.” an authoritative voice snarls at him.

He feels something touch his face; his vision sharpens and for a second, he sees Marvin staring down at him, two fingers pressed against his damp forehead. The magician smiles. “This is for all the times you tranqued me.”

“What are you-” “Sleep.”

And he does.

 ***

 The second time he woke proved to be the right one.

Well, he still felt like shit overall. But the splitting pain in his skull had faded to a dull throb, and the smoldering heat to a bearable warmth. Progress.

His eyes fluttered open, taking in the familiar decor of his own bedroom. His night light seemed to be set on the lowest intensity, sparing his eyes and his head. It was dark outside.

“Oh thank fuck, you’re back. We were gonna take you to the ER if you didn’t wake up before dawn.”

Henrik twisted his neck to look at his left; Chase was sitting next to his bed, his shoulders dropping in apparent relief. The doctor propped himself up against the wall behind him -oh good, he could move without the room going all merry-go-round on him, hurray- and opened his mouth, but all that came out was a broken croak; gott, his throat and mouth were dry as a desert. Thankfully, Chase seemed to notice his woes and produced a water bottle from the foot of the bed, holding it out to his brother. “Here. Figured you’d want this, your fever only broke an hour ago.”

The German gratefully took the offering and greedily drained it, the cool liquid soothing his sore throat. He didn’t stop until the bottle was crushed, and he took a starved gulp of air. “D-Danke. What time is it?”

“Eh, about 3AM. So if I remember my third-grade math right, you’ve been out for about twelve hours.” “Jesus.” “Yup. You scared the shit out of us.”

Schneep sighed, propping the empty bottle on his nightstand. “I know. I’m sorry. Where are the others?” “Downstairs. Robbie fell asleep, but everyone else is awake and waiting for news.” “Everyone…?” “Yeah. Well, everyone but Anti, but that was to be expected, he gets elusive when there’s too many of us around. Jackie stayed home for the night to make sure you’d be okay, and Marv canceled his show.”

Henrik groaned, his face heating up in shame. “Dammit.” Then he remembered the sensation of cool fingers on his forehead, and two slitted green eyes pulling him into the darkness. “Wait. Did Marv seriously knock me out with magic?!”

Chase grimaced. “Yeah, he won’t be sorry about that one. Plus you kinda needed it.” “Hmpf.” “I’ll let them know you’re up. But first…”

The vlogger grabbed his chair and plopped down on hit, his arms and head resting on top of the backseat. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on with you.”

Henrik averted his gaze, staring at the ceiling. It could use a fresh paint job, he thought. “Nothing.”

“We both know that’s bullshit. I’m not a literal lie detector like Anti, but I can tell when you’re hiding something.” Chase waved at his friend’s prone body. “I mean for God’s sake, just look at yourself! You’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks now, and you won’t tell any of us anything! I don’t care why you thought you could let it go so far, but as soon as it starts affecting your health then it becomes our problem too!”

The vlogger was glaring daggers into him. Chase didn’t get angry often, so whenever he did, that was a pretty clear sign that you’d messed up. Big time. Henrik let out a trembling breath, covering his eyes; what an absolute disaster.

“Remember when I passed out in the kitchen that one time?”

The German turned to look at his brother, disconcerted by the sudden change in topic. The vlogger was clutching the wooden chair, head bowed, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his iconic cap. The off-white scars on his arms were peeking out of his sleeves.

“Robbie hadn’t slept well that night. He always had good instincts. So he came downstairs early in the morning to get some warm milk, and he almost tripped on my unconscious body. Remember that?”

Henrik cringed; he did. And he was starting to understand what Chase trying to convey.

“Now,” his brother continued, “I wasn’t awake to witness that. Not the way he wailed loud enough to wake up the entire house, nor the look on his face when he ran to you for help. But…” 

He pointed at Henrik. “You’ve told me about all this. Several times, in great detail, every time you thought I was about to relapse. Which I didn’t, not since that day, because what you described was too heart-wrenching to even consider. And it was all second-hand knowledge, you know? Like I said, I didn’t experience it. But today? I was the one Robbie ran to, weeping about how you’d stopped moving. And, well…”

He chuckled, rubbing his face. It was devoid of mirth. “Let’s just say I’d rather cut off my own arm than see that look on his face ever again. So, you’re going to tell me why you’ve been destroying yourself, and I might consider not kicking your ass when you’re back on your feet again.”

Silence.

Henrik sighed. He was cornered. “...Okay, fine. But you will keep it to yourself, klar?”

Chase shrugged. “Unless hiding it would put us in danger, then I see no reason not to.”

Henrik rolled his head on the pillow, gazing up at the ceiling once more. He braced himself -c’mon, it’s Chase, you can trust him with this- then took a deep breath.  “I’ve been… conflicted. About something.”

Chase nodded, urging him to continue. That was a good start.

“I didn’t want to think about it, but it just kept looping in my mind, over and over. So I tried to keep busy, to make the thoughts go away.” “That one’s a given. So what’s been eating you? Did something happen? Do I need to punch someone?”

Henrik snorted. He knew that Chase was being completely serious, that he cared about him enough to kick someone’s ass on his behalf. Not going to lie, it felt nice. “Please don’t, none of this is his fault.”

The vlogger squinted. So this was about a guy.

“I’m just… I’m being stupid about it, okay? It probably didn’t mean anything and here I am overthinking it.” the German rambled; the floodgates had opened, words spilling out with less and less restraint. “Verdammt. I don’t know what happened. Everything was normal up until now, but then I started getting those weird signals and they might not even be signals at all and I maybe I’m reading him all wrong-”

“Dude, stop, I get it. You got a crush on Edward.”

Henrik choked on his words. He craned his neck so fast he felt it crack -gross- and stared wide-eyes at his sibling; there wasn’t the faintest trace of surprise on his face. Only calm understanding. Scheiße, was it that obvious?!

Chase seemed to somehow hear his thoughts, offering him a patient smile. “Dude, I’ve seen it all before. Heck, I’ve been there. Plus I know he walked you home a while ago, and it matches with when you started acting weird.”

The bedridden ego let out a huff. “What are you, a detective?” “Worse than that, I’m a father. I notice stuff.”

There was a moment of silence, as Schneep visibly struggling to find the right words, running his fingers through his mop of brown and grey hair. 

“I just… I’ve known him for so long. We’ve been working in the same clinic almost every day for years, so why now? What changed?”

Chase shrugged. “Hell if I know. Sometimes this stuff just… happens, y’know? There’s no grand rhyme or reason behind it, it just is. You only get to choose how to deal with it.”

The fatherly ego got off the chair to sit on Schneep’s bedside. “And, yeah, that’s where you’ve been messing up lately. I ain't gonna tell you how to live your life, but you need to stop running away from this. It’ll only get worse the longer you ignore it.” He sighted. “Christ dude. For all your talk about feelings and shit, you suck when it comes to your own.”

“I suppose.” the German mumbled. “Again, I’m sorry I scared you all. I really am.” “Well… if you promise us to never do that again then I guess I can forgive ya.” the vlogger winked and got up, stretching and cracking his joints. “Why don’tcha think on this for now, and I’ll go tell the others you didn’t slip into a coma or something. ...buuut before I do, I kinda have a confession to make.”

He scratched at the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m the one who asked Anti to get rid of your alarm. So don’t be mad at him for that.”

Schneep’s jaw dropped, shock written all across his features. “Was? That was your idea? But- why?!” “Look, I was just really worried, and it was your first day off in god-knows how long, I wanted you to get some rest!” “I swear- wait. Anti listened?” “He’s been… cooperative lately. I know, crazy right?” “Cooperating to make my life a living hell. You’ll be the death of me, all of you.”

Chase laughed. “We love you too, ya goof.”

-------

*mcfricking dies* NINE. FREAKING. PAGES.

why are those things getting longer and longer. someone please stop me.

@tabbynerdicat @egopocalypse​ @humblecacti​ @lilakennedy​ (Vati time)

[venetori]

ii:echoes  // horror au

Days went by one after another, filled with routine and boredom. The snow has stopped falling some time ago and the pretty, white blanket that covered everything was now turned into a wet, grey pulp. Daniel worked his night shifts as he always did, slept during the days, not caring about school. The most he’d get out of the day were the sunrises on his way back home.

He’s developed a new habit since the past week or so, couldn’t remember how long exactly. Every day, he’d stand by the gas station after 6am, waiting for that charming man to show up at some point. Losing hope every time he didn’t. Not even during the night just to shop or refuel his car. Nothing.

So he gave up. But the habit stuck.

A book of crosswords lay on the counter in front of him, half of one page solved, the other filled with scribbles of things he thought he saw in the shadows or reflections. Figured it was just sleep deprivation. Daniel’s head was leaning on his hand and there was a pen still between his fingers as he slept there.

Not like there were any customers to care of, there haven’t been any for hours. Which was strange but Daniel didn’t mind the opportunity to nap.

He shuddered from the light, cold breeze and glanced at the door that was still shut. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, paying no mind to what woke him up. The clock showed 5:56, so he threw the book and the pen into his backpack loosely, then grabbed his set of keys and, after putting his jacket on, made his way to the door.

There was nothing inviting in the thought of going outside into the cold but the shop’s interior was so damn boring at this point, he just wanted to do something else. At least outside he could have a smoke.

He stared at his reflection in the glass door for a bit, looking at the dark bruise on his cheek that his father gifted to him one time after downing another bottle the night before. Then he opened the door and tried not to think about the cold, hoping he wouldn’t feel it if he rejected it hard enough. He locked the shop and walked closer towards the road to smoke a cigarette, didn’t want to risk starting a fire, as interesting as that would be.

Same as every other day, he sat on the curb, smoking a cigarette, curling up from the cold, waiting for the sunrise. And for that man, York. Daniel remembered the name. His face was scribbled on one of the pages of Daniel’s crossword book. His dog was there, too. There were many faces Daniel drew but York’s was the only one he didn’t feel weird looking at.

Now that drawing was the only reminder Daniel had of him. The only friendly soul he’s seen in a while. Gone without a trace. Maybe he died. Wouldn’t be surprising in this city, there was always some news on the radio about recent crimes. Or he moved out. That wouldn’t be a surprise either.

Although Daniel didn’t expect him to show up, didn’t hope he would, he was still thinking about what he’d say to him if he did.

A distant sound of a motorcycle interrupted his thoughts. A lonesome vehicle driving down this empty road as the sky was slowly turning brighter in the background, giving it a pink tint. Daniel threw his cigarette away when he noticed the motorcycle slow down the closer it was to the gas station.

[sammy-writes-stuff]

Traits, Trials and Truth, Ch 15

Chapter Fifteen: Grey Skies

Start.   Previous.

Roman woke to the sound of a marker on a whiteboard, and someone muttering quietly to themselves. He winced as he opened his eyes just a smidge - the light from the lamp in the corner feeling like just too much.

Roman's head was throbbing, and he felt as though he had been hit by a truck. The thick feeling of failure and dread weighed in on his stomach like cement, unforgivably reminding him of the ordeals of the previous day.

The three of them had rematerialised early afternoon in the mindscape living room, but Roman had been utterly shocked that it hadn't been much later. Surely their time in the dreamscape had lasted at least a week? Not, like, an hour.

Roman's stomach growled, and he turned over in his spot on the couch so he could see the clock on the wall - it was just gone 6am.

They hadn't had dinner the night before. After the initial chaos of their arrival, Roman and Logan had settled into a deadpanned routine. Roman took care of their bloody clothes, and Logan had cared for Virgil. Virgil had developed a concerning fever, and was incredibly weak. He hadn't spoken much after the initial chaos, he hadn't really had the energy to react at all.

Virgil hadn't in fact, been completely unconscious throughout the...incident. He had been too weak to really respond or even open his eyes. Virgil had been able to recall parts of what had been said when the other two were unconscious, and that included the enemy's name.

When their usual dinner time ticked around, Roman had found himself sitting at the table, almost subconsciously. After spending five minutes or so lost in thought, Logan had come across him.

"When we get him back, we should probably cook for him for a change." Logan hadn't sounded judgmental, but had correctly guessed that Roman was struggling to comprehend the loss of Patton to...to whatever the hell was going on.

With these words, Roman registered finally that Patton was gone, losing his appetite and starting to cry instead.

They all had gone to bed rather early after that, all in varying states of shock.

Now, as Roman found the strength to fully open his eyes, he was that Logan had been very busy.

He had wheeled in two massive whiteboards, and set them up side-by-side along the blank wall. He was scribbling fiercely, his back to Roman.

The Prince turned his head to check on Virgil. The boy had all but disappeared underneath a tonne of blankets, but Roman could see he was sound asleep on the mattresses next to him. There was a wet cloth carefully placed on his forehead.

Roman turned back to the whiteboards, feeling his brain starting to kick in and shake off his sleepiness. The first one had been divided into six smaller squares, labelled each with a name of each of the sides and Thomas. Various things were scribbled into each square, things Roman judged to be dates, facts, and timelines. The second whiteboard was ruled into four separate columns, each headlined: Timeline; Plot; Short Term Ideas; Long Term Ideas.

Roman groaned as he got to his feet, shrugging his own blankets off him. Logan finally halted in his writing and spun to face him.

Logan looked as if he'd not rested in a week. There were dark bags under his eyes, and stress lines on his face. He looked fairly manic.

"Good Morning Roman, how are you feeling?" He whispered, speaking a little quicker than usual.

Roman yawned and stretched his neck to try and subtly see what Logan had written under his name, but Logan was obstructing his view.

"As good as I can be, I suppose." He replied, shrugging. "I think I got at least a few hours sleep. Are you working on a plan?" He tried to keep his tone light.

Logan frowned and Roman instantly regretted his choice of words.

"Remember that you're more than that, and that you've got to give yourself time to process things too." He added quickly, trying to avoid the inference that Logan was indifferent or unaffected.

Logan just sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"I think we need to check on Thomas, when he wakes up. We'll have to really closely monitor him today...this is rather unprecedented territory."

Roman nodded. They knew that the other two were more or less physically intact and functioning - not only were their doors still there, but it didn't 'feel' like they had clocked out all-together.

Logan turned back to the whiteboard, and Roman squinted to read his small, neat writing.

Tristan was the first square, in the top, left hand corner. Underneath his name was: the time and date he had formed; Logan's general guess as to when he had started to form; what he represented; and the date and time that he had been taken.

Roman swallowed. The word beneath that was 'compromised' in red marker.

"I used 'compromised' as a term to indicate whether the subject has been infected, influenced, or otherwise 'touched' by Pitch."

Logan had correctly guessed and promptly answered Roman's query.

Underneath Tristan's square was Patton's, with similar information. Underneath 'compromised' was the phrase 'patient zero?'.

Roman didn't even want to read Virgil's square, beneath Patton's. Unlike the others, it was completely crammed with information about Virgil's illness and concerning factors. The red word was crammed in right at the bottom.

In the other column, Thomas and Logan's squares just said 'to be assessed'.

"What do you know about me?" Roman asked softly, now conscious that Logan was very deliberately blocking his line of sight.

Logan stiffened, but turned to face him again. He looked...nervous? Sad? Tired?

"You...you might want to sit down." Logan shifted slightly and Roman saw a flash of red in his box.

He felt like throwing up, then panicked even more at what that might mean.

Logan gently picked up a small hand mirror off the coffee table, and gave it to the Prince carefully.

"To be fair...I think it's a look you could pull off?" Logan was scared, and really trying to do his best.

When Logan had finally given up any hope of getting sleep, he had almost absent-minded checked on his two counterparts. He had nearly lost it, finally, upon laying eyes on Roman's slumbering figure. He had felt more alone than ever, and incredibly on-guard - to think that he was the onlyside clearly untouched by their enemy...it made him feel completely lost.

Roman didn't even react when he saw his reflection. Logan found this in itself incredibly troubling - where was the outrage? The passion?

Roman's complexion was ashen. His eyes had lost their almost cartoonish sparkle. But the biggest and most noticeable change, was to his pride and joy.

The Prince's hair was limp, dead-looking, and the colour of the dullest, most uninspiring shade of grey.

Next.

Tag List: @callboxkat 

[jamesv-t]

How was your Sunday? I ran a half marathon around the lovely seaside town of Worthing. Want to hear about it?

I planned to get up at 6am, with my alarm set for that time. Of course my body had other ideas and I woke up at ten past five (going to bed at 9pm the night before might’ve had something to do with this, thinking about it). I got myself ready, played on Football Manager for a bit (potentially risky, as I have a tendency to get drawn into it for hours). Consequently we were in town early enough to get the fast train to Worthing, getting there a good 90 minutes before the race was due to start.

This was probably to my advantage as, instead of fretting about whether we’d get there in time (we’ve had a lot of issues with poor train service lately) we could relax in the pavilion overlooking the sea and I could have my breakfast banana. I transferred my scribbled notes of where the water stations were and which energy gels to have at what time from my scraps of paper to my left forearm, had about three final wees, then walked out to the starting line. Reluctantly I gave my hoodie to Dana - it was cold, and I only had a short sleeved top on underneath. I kept my gloves figuring that they cost me £1 (€0.05/$0.80) and so if I lost them en route it would be no great loss. I spotted a couple of people from my local parkrun and had a chat with them, before suddenly we were off and underway!

The route around the town is very convoluted (it’s a small place, they can’t have an expansive route like London) but for the first bit it was a straight out and back taking up much of the first 5k. I tucked in behind someone and tried to will myself to go slower as the pace for my first km was 6:35 - a full minute faster than I’d planned to pace myself for the first half of the race. The first full km I had slower than 7:30 wasn’t until the 14k mark - but I’m getting ahead of myself. Back into town I realised how beneficial it is to have one’s name on one’s shirt - it was definitely a boost hearing people cheering for you by name and I’ve recommended that my baby brother does the same for his half marathon. 

Just after the 4k mark we swung off the seafront and ran through the town. I gave my gloves (by now sodden with both sweat and rain) to Dana who popped up at various points to take pictures and had my first walk of the race while having my first energy gel. At this point I was personally cheered on by the Mayor of Worthing (score another one for the name on the shirt!) and had managed to lock myself into a pace of around 7 mins/km. This portion was easier than my usual out-and-back-then-out-and-back-again parkrun as the route took more turns than an M Night Shyamalan movie which broke up the monotony and didn’t get too boring. I amused myself (and several others) by sticking my arms out like an aeroplane and flying round corners.

Around the 9k mark (just under halfway) several things happened in quick succession. Firstly I ran past a building that to my delirious eyes looked like Beane House (which I took as a sign, as one of the speedsters in the Flash TV show is played by Violett Beane), then I saw my lovely wife for the third time, and thirdly I had “Run Away With Me” by Carly Rae Jepsen come on my playlist. This last part wasn’t as good as you’d expect - this track was the marker between the slower paced “slow the hell down James” tracks intended to keep me from haring off too fast (2 fast, 2 furious) which didn’t work, and also I was hoping that it’d be at the halfway mark of the course, and I was about 2k short of that mark. (Next time I’ll stick Bon Jovi’s Livin’ On A Prayer there instead, as it’s lyrically apt.) Still, to keep me slower around the block before the 7 mile marker I stuck a track from Jeff Wayne’s War Of The Worlds on to hold me back. 

Round the corner I took on my second cup from the water station then picked up my pre-planned supply drop from Vanessa and Stephen - a bottle of Lucozade and a packet of jelly beans. Past the halfway mark and my wife for a fourth time, I went back onto the seafront road (retracing the first mile of the race) heading out of town for a jog around Goring-By-Sea when disaster struck. While training, around the turn of the year, I overdid it a bit with my running and had to duck out of the new year’s day parkrun when my right calf tightened up on me and I was unable to run. About 13.5km into this race (already 3km further than I’d ever run in a single session in my life) the same thing happened. I immediately slowed down to a walk and ambled along for the next five minutes (the length of the Metallica song Battery), occasionally rotating my ankle and stretching it out in the hopes that it would ease off. I kept going knowing that I was 2k away from the turnback point and so if I just reached that then I’d have to finish the course to meet people at the end.

Gingerly I increased my pace, taking it slowly on my leg knowing I’d drop down to a crawl (hopefully not literally!) if the problem reoccurred. It didn’t, but the next few kilometres were a real drudge - almost no people cheering us on, and the other side of Goring we ended up going round the perimeter of a field on uneven concrete slabs which brought back uncomfortable memories of cross country runs from school. Just after 16km we passed the 10 mile marker just as the really good bit of Chvrches’ Clearest Blue kicked in and I put on a burst of energy until the end of the song, past the waiting photographer.  

That took it out of me and I alternated between walking and jogging for the next few km back through Goring past the last water station. I wandered along for a bit with an older chap who hadn’t done a half either - we kept each other’s spirits up until the final turn onto the seafront with 2km to go. I picked my pace up a bit (I tried to run the rest without stopping but that was a tad optimistic. Past 20km, and with 1.1km to go we had the only hill on the entire course - a ten pace slope up from the road to the promenade for the final stretch. By this point people who had finished were walking back along the route and cheering us on, which helped immensely. I passed the Premier Inn marker that was roughly 500m to go and skipped to a track I knew would help get me over the line - Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising.

I shifted gears with the finish line in sight, vaguely aware that my wife was around somewhere (and hoping my parents had made it down too!) but with my eyes locked onto the giant digital clock by the finish line with the times. As the clock ticked over to 2 hours, 38 minutes and 50 seconds I put on an extra burst to ensure I didn’t make it to 2:39 and finished with the readout displaying 2:38:54. At this point my legs decided their job was done and slowed down to a walking pace, a memo that didn’t make it to my torso and I nearly flattened the girls handing out the medals. I picked up my banana and water and posed for pictures, surprised at how able I was to stand. As well as Dana, Vee and Stephen, my parents had made it bringing along my baby brother and his wife too (unexpected and really pleasing).

The rest of the time in Worthing was a blur (apart from a lovely burger) except for my friend Becky saying hi while waiting for my medal to be engraved. By this point my body was saying “we can be sociable or we can stay vertical, PICK ONE” to me and I chose to stay upright, swaying gently in the breeze, while Dana and Becky chatted (apparently amicably) together.

[neighbourskid]

Have You Ever Been To See London Town

(original date: 01 November 2015)

Here We Are In London Town

As some of you might've read in one or the other post, I planned on going to London this fall. Well, that happened two weeks ago and now I am here to tell you all about it. Because I got a lot to tell you guys from the interwebs. But no rambling now. Without further ado, I present to you: my week all alone in London.

It was Tuesday, October 20th, very very early in the morning. My mom drove me out to the airport in Basel where I would take off around 7am. My mom did not come into the airport, so I had to do the check-in and baggage stuff all by myself - for the very first time. Whenever I flew before it had always been in a group and I had just watched what the others did and then did that. But not this time. No. I had to figure it out myself. But I got that done eventually and found myself at my gate, waiting very bored for boarding. To pass the time I typed out my thoughts on my phone, which is what I wanna show you right now.

It's 5:53am, I'm sitting next to Gate 31 at EuroAirport in Basel. I just had a croissant and a (absolutely horrible) coffee from Columbus Café. Boarding is in approximately half an hour, flight takes off at 7am. If everything goes accordingly to plan, I will be in London at 8.15am. I am rather bored right now but the other people here do not look any better than me. There's a rather old man in a brown leather jacket and an old woman who don't sit next to but apparently know each other. Next to the woman sits a 40+ dude, with moustache and a green-white scarf, who knows them as well. Opposite me sit two 50+ gentlemen, both tapping on their (allegedly) iPhone 6s's, being all business and shit. One of them wears old people shoes and a beige trench coat, the other looks like Prince Charles. Then there's a blonde woman with a coffee, who doesn't mean to but looks rather lonely and sad. Then behind me sits some dude in a red-black caro shirt. No idea what he looks like. The coffee shop is getting more and more busy the closer we get to boarding time. Which is odd because that coffee is crappy as hell. Well, maybe they can make Latte's now and not just plain coffee or espresso. It's past 6am now. I am still very bored. I could keep looking at these people and analyse them, but it is not that interesting to be honest. But hey, the old dude in the brown leather jacket just moved to sit next to his wife (?), cause the other dude went away. Oh, my mom just sent me a text. Maybe I'll meet someone I know. That'd be rather funny.

You get the idea. I was very bored. A bit later I go on and on about all the people around me, give them names like "The Italians" or "Donald Trump", "Mulan" and "Princess Diana". I write about every new person who arrives. It was entertaining for the time being.

It was 6:40am when I finally sat on my seat (23A). At this point I started to write on my phone again about what was happening, what I was doing, the people around me and other things. A little before we started going down again we got little sandwiches for breakfast, which was very lovely. I have to say here that I really love flying. I love it. Especially when I have a window seat. Because, if not too tired, I will stare out the window the whole flight and look at the clouds and the stuff beneath us, watch how houses and people and cars get smaller, take pictures of sunsets and sunrises - I just really enjoy flying.

After arriving at Heathrow Airport I took the tube to Tottenham Court Road, which was the best station to find my hotel from. Which I didn't. Well, not immediately. I walked around for at least half an hour trying to get a wifi signal somewhere so I could google my hotel. I did find it in the end. But waaaaaay to early. They had said my room would be available around 2pm, and when I arrived it was something between 10 and 11am. I could leave my baggage at the reception, which I did, and then went out to, well, get to know the place. But I had made some mistakes in my thought process. Which you will understand after you read the entry I made in a notebook.

It's 11am. I'm sitting in a Starbucks somewhere near Oxford Street in London. My coffee is still too hot to drink, but it's standing here waiting for me. When confronted with the fact that I couldn't go to my room until 2pm, I reacted very very stupidly. Because I took literally nothing more with me than my phone (with 30% charge at the time) and money. I could've just simply taken my bag. But no. I left it with the other one at the reception. Stupid me. So I went out, walked a bit until I found a McDonald's, where I ate some crappy breakfast burgers. Then I went to Sainsbury's to buy a pen and this notebook. And then I came here. To spend the remaining three hours. I just wanna shower actually. And be alone for a bit. Until I go to Madame Tussauds at around 3pm. My phone is at 15% now by the way. Not sure if I can find back to my hotel without my phone, though. Hopefully. Coffee is still hot as.....whatevers. I don't think I'll ever go alone on vacation ever again. I've only been here for what, two hours? I don't like being alone in a place I don't know that well. I feel odd. And am a bit afraid. And with my thing with many people in little space this all doesn't get much better. I hate being in crowded places. At least this place is rather empty. God, I'm so tired. What I love about this place is the language, though. I love English. And I love the accents. Very very much. But enough of my chit-chat. Imma write a bit now.

And then I wrote. I wrote a little Leverage ficlet. It did the job.

In the end, I went back to my hotel with 1% charge left on my phone. After I got lost trying to pass time. But hey, I found the place again and all was well. I took my shower, I was alone. Then I went to Madame Tussauds (nearly panicked on the way because I thought I was going to be too late) and it was awesome. I took loads of pictures and selfies and I enjoyed the place very much. Looking back, my first day alone in London was a great success. *happy face*

A Foggy Day in London Town

We wrote Wednesday, October 21st, it had been 8am and I had probably just woken up. Looking outside the window I saw what I had heard after waking up: it was raining pretty effing strong. But hey, that's London, amiright? Well anyway. On Wednesday I actually planned on getting up at around 9am, but I was an hour too early. Well, didn't matter, because this way I was able to watch the Agents of SHIELD episode that had just come out the night before. Which was great. To get you a clearer picture of what was going on in my head, have here another excerpt from my notebook.

It's half past nine in the morning, I'm sitting in that same Starbucks again, drinking my coffee and eating my croissant. It's raining pretty strong. But hey, it's London. What'd you expect. At 11.15am my two friends David and Philipp will arrive at London Euston, coming down from Coventry where they visited another friend of ours, Gabriel. [...] Today I woke up an hour earlier than I planned, but that way I could watch the new Agents of SHIELD episode, which was very very cool. Loving that May is back at SHIELD. Coulson still loves her very much. God It's raining so much. I don't wanna go outside. But I have to go back to the hotel to get more money. And then I have to go meet my friends. Sigh. Going soon.

And then I went. Got back to my hotel, grabbed the money, went to the tube station, travelled to London Euston where I had to wait quite a bit for my friends to arrive. Because, as usual, I was there too early. I scribbled a bit in my notebook to pass the time, thought about writing another ficlet, but then decided on drawing.

When they finally arrived I felt so happy. Not alone anymore. Yay! No seriously, it was very comforting to know someone. And I could finally talk to people. It was very good having them there. Well anyway, I helped them find their hotel so they could put their stuff away. After lunch we walked a bit on Oxford Street, went to Starbucks, Waterstones and HMV. It was a great afternoon. I really enjoyed it. At around 5pm we split again, because I would go and see Hamlet that evening. Which I was very much looking forward to. As shows my notebook.

It is 5:16pm now. I'm back at my hotel, listening to Absolute Radio. Hanging out with Phil and Dave was great. Finally someone to talk to. God. We went to Starbucks, visited some bookstores n'shit. And then went to McDonald's to eat. Maybe we'll chill out again after Hamlet. We will see. I have about an hour of free time now. Will leave around 6pm. I'm looking forward to the piece like VERY FUCKEN MUCH. I mean, it's the Batch. LIVE! And maybe I can catch a picture at Stage Door.

That was that. On the way to Barbican Centre I nearly drove crazy because I forgot to bring an ID, which was necessary, apparently. Well, I did get in without one in the end, so no need to be stressed about that anymore. I sat next to a couple of Germans, who did not know that I could understand them, but that was okay. Sadly, I did not buy a programme, which I still regret now. It's a lovely thing to have. Well anyway. The play began at 7:15pm.

For those of you who have seen it, you understand me. It is hilariously, amazingly, tragically perfect. I mean it was a real joy watching this play. Starting out with Benedict alone on stage, mourning 'his' father, it was a great opening. It just took you in and did not let you go anymore. I still find it so amazing how much presence Ben has in a room. He has this beautiful confidence, I don't know. It was just very very thrilling. And his voice, dear baby Jesus, his voice. I should actually just give up to tell you about this play. I just cannot fathom my thoughts. It was truly mind blowing. The whole play through I had this grin on my lips, this proud smile, because he did it. Benedict had made history. I-...wow. Just wow. And then you'd think it couldn't get any better. You will stand corrected. The play is over, all the actors are on stage, bowing. And then he asks for silence, for attention. And proceeds to hit you with the biggest and most emotional hammer right in your face. He talks with so much passion about how they had been able to collect money for the refugees and he pleads, he begs for us to think, to truly think about what having a home means. And he talks with this eloquence, those beautiful words. He could've put his sword right through my heart and I wouldn't have minded. Because what he tells the audience after every play, every night, is so damn beautiful you cannot not give something. Sigh. Wow. I'm just overwhelmed again right now.

He reads the beautiful poem Home by Somali poet Warsan Shire during that speech, and I just feel like I should put the part he read here as well. You can find the whole poem here.

“no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark you only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well”

It makes me cry everytime I read it. It also includes the beautiful line "No one puts children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land." And here's Benedict's speech as well. Watch it, listen to it. It truly touches your heart.

Mooooving on now. Where was I...

Ah, yes. Well. After the play I, obviously, went out to Stage Door to get a chance for an autograph or a selfie with Benedict, or to at least thank him for what he's done and what he's still doing, and tell him he's doing a tremendous job. I waited with all the others. Waited long. It was cold. But it was at least not raining. We stood there and finally after some time the first actors came out. It did not take long until all of them were through and gone. But for one. Benedict had not shown up yet. Not long after all the others were through, a nice woman from the Barbican Centre came out and said that he had already left and, for that matter, would not be doing Stage Door tonight.

Head hanging low, quite sad, I walked back to Barbican Station to catch the tube. I was torn. I did not know how I should feel. The evening was absolutely fantastic and I loved every second of it. But on the other hand, Benedict was why I even came here. I don't think I would've watched the play if it had not been for him. So I was rather disappointed that he did not show up. But then again I understood. I mean, he has a little kid and a wife at home and you don't wanna be gone for too long. I really understood him. So I was really torn. Not sure what I should do with the fact that I did not get to meet him.

I went back to Tottenham Court Road where Phil and Dave were already expecting me. We then went out and walked about the city for a while, then went into a McDonald's and had a midnight snack, so to speak. They were a good distraction. I would've probably sulked way more if I had just went back to my hotel that night. But I didn't, so yay, night saved. Or so.

London Blues

Thursday, October 22nd. In the morning I accompanied Phil and Dave to the tube station to say goodbye and show them where they had to go to make it to Heathrow Airport. It had been really nice having them there. Nice distraction. We had a good day and a half. Really good. After that I went back into sulking mood, I suppose. I was alone again, I did not get to meet Ben the day before, I was tired, I was sad. Boo :(

But the day would only get better. I didn't do much in the morning after Phil and Dave left, but in the afternoon I had to go to Baker Street. The pick up point for Warner Bros. Studio Tour: The Making of Harry Potter was there. I got there way to early, as usual, and sat in the cold. There were lots of French families going as well, so their little kids ran all around me, being French and rather annoying. Well, the one boy was cute in the beginning but then he started to be annoying as well.

When the bus finally arrived I took a seat and waited for it to begin. To my surprise there was a little TV in the bus. I was still kinda sulking about the day before, but when the driver started the film and the melody came on, I was flashed and completely absorbed by this event. They played the first Harry Potter film. And oh was I smiling like a freak in that bus. It was one of the best bus rides I ever had, for the film alone. But it would only get better.

We arrived at the studios around 4.30pm, I suppose. And then I walked into that building and what happened for the next four hours was pure childhood and it tore me apart. The theme song was playing everywhere, there was Harry's room under the stairs from Privet Drive, there were props and costumes and oh my god. I, wow. I mean, seriously. You cannot imagine what it is like going through these halls if you have not been there.

First we got to watch a film about the studios, kinda behind the scenes stuff, with actors and everything. And then we could walk into the Great Hall. And Oh. My. God. It was everything you would ever dream of. I walked through this studio like the biggest doofus, big grin on my face, shiny lil' eyes. My heart exploding.  Because I went there in the Halloween season, they had people walk around as Death Eaters, which was awesome-sauce. Well, I really can barely talk about this whole thing. I just cannot put it into words. But what killed me most of all was the "miniature" of the castle, of Hogwarts. I-....I nearly broke down into tears in that room. Also the train, though. That was a dream come true. Sitting in a booth, walking through the train, hell, standing on platform 9 3/4 alone was just mindblowing.

But what was the worst was the souvenir shop. It comes right after the castle. And you wanna buy everything. Everything. Really, all of it. It doesn't even matter what house you think is the best, you wanna have all the things. All the shirts and hoodies and scarfs and all the wands and the pictures and just everything. I sadly only had money for three things, so I bought something for a friend and the "Have You Seen This Wizard" Sirius Black shirt and also his wand. Because you gotta, right?

But to show you how I really felt about this place, I can only give you the notebook entry I wrote in the coffee shop of the place. Here ya go.

My heart hurts. It's crying. For a time five years gone. This place is as magical as you'd expect. I'm really just flashed. The music, the pictures, the props, the EVERYTHING. It's pure childhood and a walk down memory lane. I really feel like I could break down and just weep. It's heartbreaking somehow. I mean, this were ten years of my life! The first book that was honestly and purely mine was "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban". The first book I've ever loved. Sirius Black is to date still my all time favourite character in literature. I am so nostalgic right now. I could honest to God just start to cry. I could not imagine a childhood without Harry Potter. I just can't.

My tweets about it are by the way not looking any better. That place really killed me. On the way back they continued the film, but I didn't get to see it until the end because I got out at an earlier stop. Welp. That day is definitely to be scored as a very big success! :D

All Over London

Thank God, it's Friday. Or, well, I don't know. I wasn't really feeling superb that day. HP Studio left me thinking about my childhood, about my family and especially my dad and brother. But given the time that has passed since that particular Friday, I'd rather show you (again) what I wrote that day.

It's Friday. 12:40. Noon. I'm sitting in a Pret-A-Manger, just had a lovely ham and egg sandwich and still have coke and coffee, listening to music. I'm in London. An 8.5 million city. With terrifyingly lots of tourists. And you know what? I am depressingly lonely. I feel so alone. This feeling of "you're the only person on this planet" is very enclosing. Doesn't make a lot of sense, I know. I just don't feel well right now. Next time I'm definitely taking Angie with me. Or Salome. Having some sort of anxiety that involves great uncomfortability in big masses of people doesn't make this place any better. I mean, I felt great being here with Dave and Phil. I felt great in Madame Tussauds, at the theatre and at the Studio yesterday. But now? In this café? I'm feeling shitty as hell. Lonely and depressed. Sad. I really wanna go home actually.

But, mind you, I did not sulk all day in that Pret-A-Manger. I decided to do something that was comforting to me. And books are comforting. Very. So I decided to go to that Waterstones again I was in on Wednesday with Dave and Phil. I thought I'd find it without a problem. "It's on Oxford Street, that should be easy to find" I thought. Well, how do I put that... It wasn't. I got hopelessly lost. After giving up looking for that bloody bookstore, I desperately searched for a toilet. Well, what I found wasn't what I was looking for. But it was also water and stones. After some time of randomly walking around I found myself standing at the edge of the River Thames, staring right at the London Eye across the river. Well, I thought, at least there would be a toilet. And there was! So we could call that a success. I did take some pictures of the London Eye and Big Ben there because, I mean, I was there already, so why not. I also tried to find the lil' drawing Corinne left me three years ago, but it wasn't there anymore. Which does not surprise me actually.

After my failed attempt to find a bookstore I made my way back to my hotel, grabbed some food somewhere on the way and made myself a relaxed evening in my hotel. I really did not do that much on Friday, besides getting lost.

Evening in London

Saturdays are nice days, don't you think? I do rather like them. On my Saturday in London I did a bit of this and a bit of that. But I can best show you that with what I wrote in my notebook. Because boy had I time to write. It is by the way a wonder that I can still read what I wrote that week. I have a horrible scrawl.

Hello again. It is 2:36pm, I'm sitting at Starbucks with my coffee and innocent. At the table next to me sit four Swiss women, chit-chatting, gossiping. Today I made the big mistake of walking through Oxford Street. It's Saturday, it's London. There are millions of people! And I hate 'em all. It's raining again, by the way. I wanna go home to my hotel again, but I don't think my room's been cleaned yet. I'm also fighting with myself about tonight a bit. I planned on going back to the Barbican Centre tonight on time for Stage Door to catch a selfie with Benedict, but I have doubts. What if he doesn't do it tonight either? What if someone recognizes me? I just don't know. Oh, god news! I can work at FashionFriends again next week. Looking forward to that very very much. Because hey: it's a job. My headache is getting worse in this noise. God, I'm so tired. The Swiss women just left. And I think they forgot a bag. But maybe it's just trash. [...] Also, I'm (still) sad. I feel alone. I just wanna sleep. But I guess the possibility of meeting Benedict could make me feel better. So maybe I'm going. I'm somehow looking forward to going home again. Because I'll not be so alone anymore. I have my family there. Any my friends. I feel very tired. And sentimental. And nostalgic. It's 3pm now. I'll probably go back to the hotel soon. Yes. Sigh.

Well, I did go back to the hotel shortly after. I spend the afternoon watching Leverage and building myself up for the night. Because I had decided to go. I had to. Kinda. Well, after watching loads of episodes of the show, I packed my stuff together and left to get dinner. Which concluded in me sitting back at Starbucks at some point and writing again. Which you can read below.

Well, here we are again. Same Starbucks, same coffee, same orange juice. It's 8pm. The play will end around 10.20pm. And I will creep around Stage Door at, I suppose, 10pm. It's the last chance I have. Tomorrow is none. I checked. I wanted to try for one of the thirty 10£ tickets they sell there every day, but no luck there. No play on Sundays. So I gotta go tonight. Monday I'm leaving. And I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to meet him again. So I'm going. Tonight. And hopefully he will be doing Stage Door tonight, hopefully I will get my selfie with him. Hopefully. This would make my holiday really worth it. Cuz it is, initially, what I came here for. It was all about him. The rest is just icing on top of the cake, really. So without that picture, there is not really a cake. Maybe a muffin, yes, but no cake. And I want. That. Cake. But enough of that. I need to entertain myself again. So writing it is.

And so I wrote again. But I'm not gonna tell you about that. There is too much important stuff to tell about that Evening in London. I couldn't sit there and just wait until I had to take the tube. I was getting restless. So I got up after I finished my drinks, left the Starbucks and went on the tube. I was there waaaay to early. But guess what? There were others there already as well. I took my place at the front, next to two German fangirls. One of them complimented my Sirius Black shirt, I said thank you, but did not show that I understood every word they said. It was way too funny that way. And so we waited. In the cold. The play ended, people came out of the theatre, some of them leaving, some of them standing behind us, waiting for the actors as well. Not much after the play ended, a guy dressed in a purple barbican shirt came out and said that Benedict was not likely to come and do Stage Door tonight. There were loads of disappointed sighs, but nobody dared to leave, because what if. You wanna know what I did?

They said he probably ain't coming out, so I said, by God he will. And that's what I did. I prayed. I said to the Lord that if it weren't meant to be for me to meet Ben, then I wouldn't have gotten a ticket in the first place. I mean, why would I have? And so I prayed and prayed and then began to hum "Our God is an awesome God" over and over again.

The other actors came and went. There was a little wooooing when Ciarán Hinds (he played Hamlet's uncle, the King's brother) came out. He was brilliant, by the way. Very convincing.

And I kept humming the song. I kept doing that. I got my ticket out, prepared my phone, and just kept humming. And then he came out. Oh, he was lovely. I watched how he signed other people's tickets and programs and talked a bit, I snapped a few pictures from afar and prepared what I wanted to say to him once it was my turn. I wanted to thank him for what he was doing, tell him that he was brilliant, that the play was amazing. And then politely ask for a selfie. That was the plan.

Well, he came along, signed the German girls's stuff, then stood in front of me, took the ticket that I held to him and signed. But before that he looked at me, tired but happy, and smiled a little. All my plans kicked the curb. I managed to say Hi and Thanks after he handed me the ticket back and then asked for the selfie. He was very lovely about it. He told me that sure, he would take a picture with me, told me to set it up and tell him when I'm ready, he would sign along meanwhile. And so I told him when I was ready, we snapped the picture, he waved, I said thank you, he said pleasure and then signed along.

I climbed out of the masses of people pressing against me, waving their stuff at Ben, and got out to breathe a little. I started to walk away when they started clapping, so I turned and clapped as well. He waved goodbye and off he went.

Oh he is very lovely. Beautiful human being. Very natural. Very...very human. And touchable for that matter. He doesn't seem like this untouchable figure of stardom like maybe a Angelina Jolie or a Brad Pitt does. It was.... it was an amazing experience. And I will never forget it. I will treasure that in my heart forever. I will.

After that I went home, grinning slightly all the time. Having a good time. Looking at the picture every other minute. Staring at my ticket, stunned. It was worth it. It had definitely been the right decision to go. I would not have missed it for anything, looking back at it. Sigh. I'm being nostalgic again right now.

Looking Down on London

There is no better way to tell you about Sunday, October 25th than to let you look into my notebook. Because that little book that I bought out of necessity on the first day was my always comforting companion through this whole week. So yeah, see for yourself.

It was a success! And you know what? I'm happy! I'm not sitting in the Pret-A-Manger across my hotel being all sad and depressed. No! I'm sitting there, happy, smiling to myself, feeling good. Oh, standing in the cold for so long was so worth it. Ben was very lovely. Wished he had more time, though. But hey, he's a busy man. I'm glad I got my selfie and autograph. Thank God for that. God, I'm so happy. My week is made now. It's a bit of a shame he's not on social media. Would've liked to thank him properly. Cause the man is a gift. He's doing so much great work. But enough of that now. It's 11.37am, I'm sitting at Pret's, enjoying coffee & my music. I actually wanted to go to Hillsong Church but, well, I slept. Maybe tonight then. I think I'm gonna go out of the city today. Check out the nature. Go up on a hill or something the like. Find myself some solitude. Cuz I really don't like being surrounded by that many people. But first I have to find a place like that. Seriously, having met Benedict makes this holiday really worth it. I am so damn happy. So, Imma go now. Primrose Hill, here I come.

But before I buggered off into the nature that day, I went into a grocery store, bought my innocent orange juice and some apples. You gotta be healthy sometime, right?

To get to Primrose Hill, I decided to walk through Regent's Park. Which was a brilliant decision. Because that park is beautiful. And despite being rather well visited, you could find some solitude here and there. It was truly a beautiful place. If I lived in London I would probably be there every other weekend. I really enjoyed Queen Mary's rose garden. They were beautiful. It was very lovely. After I made my way through the park, I walked alongside Prince Albert Road to Primrose Hill. The sight you got from there is extraordinary. Truly beautiful. Enjoyed sitting in the grass for a while and just relax. It was what I needed that day, really. Relaxed me very much.

In the end, I did not go to Hillsong Church that evening. I relaxed in the hotel. It was a good idea. But truly, that day was a great one. Very relaxing, very beautiful, the weather was perfect.

From London With Love

Monday, October 26th. That was my last day in London. And a very exhausting one. I did not leave my hotel room until a bit before noon. Then I ate lunch and afterwards went to Starbucks (as always) for one last time. Had a little chat with one of the women working there, cuz she recognized me, because I always went to the same Starbucks. If I come back to London some time, I will definitely go to that one again. Or at least visit once.

I left the place around 3pm and took the tube to Heathrow Airport. Stood the whole fifty minutes. Then I went through all the check-in and security measures, made my way to the waiting place with a coffee, innocent and a cinnamon swirl (which could've been perfect if it weren't for the disgusting raisins that were in there) and sat down. After some time a cute blond dude sat down two rows down exactly opposite me. We occasionally stared at each other. At some point I, jokingly, wrote the following on twitter: "@ very cute blond guy opposite me at @HeathrowAirport next to A11 with the mac book, please know that i'm a girl and please do not be gay"

Shortly after, the official twitter account of Heathrow Airport wished me the best luck and hoped that I managed to get his attention. He, sadly, had just then left. Which the airport was very sad to hear but it hoped I had a great evening nonetheless. Having an airport as your wingman is....great.

Well, with cute blond gone I was rather bored. My flight was hella delayed, as were all flights to Switzerland, and in the end I ended up so late, that I missed my last train that could've brought me to my lil' village. So my mom had to pick me up half way through. Yeah. And I worked the next day, which was very exhausting.

But yeah well, that was my week in London. The post is terrifyingly long, I know, but I hope you enjoyed reading my crap. Cuz it only took a whole afternoon to write it all down. Hehe.

Well, whatever. I wish y'all a good time for now, until I write again.

Cheers!

*happy person cuz I met The Batch*

[erraticwriterscanvas-blog]

The Girl on the train - Part 1

Chennai Central Railway station, the biggest of its kind that I had ever seen, welcomed me once again. Honestly it was a warm welcome because the station inside was way too hotter than the streets outside. The bustling crowd that spread over the long trench over a mile was no surprise.

Five days ago, when I began my journey to Chennai, I was really excited about travelling all alone. It was my first experience of travelling alone to a city far from mine, and I was thrilled about the feeling of responsibility I would have towards myself and my luggage, the personal space I would get for myself among the thousands of unknowns on the train, the decision making situations where I don’t have to listen to someone else’s commands to choose what I want. Travelling seemed like fun, but it eventually turned boring. I should have carried few novels to read. And what added to the disappointment of excitement turned to boredom was that there was no sign of a girl in my whole compartment. How could there be no Meenamma on ‘The Chennai Express’ ( Meenamma is the female lead character in the movie ‘Chennai Express’ in which hero meets her heroine first on train). A bunch of Tamilians were my travel companions and I had no clue what they spoke about throughout the journey. A good aged Tamilian uncle cleared my confusion about how to reach my destination in Chennai (The only reason why I felt he was good coz he understood fair bit of Hindi, and it wasn’t hard to communicate).

My purpose of visit to Chennai was something I was really proud of; so proud that I told all my friends about it. I was one among the few hundred chosen to appear for an interview at Indian Institute of Technology, Madras (my dream world). I was imagining IIT, when my thoughts were broken by the whistling of train. It had reached ‘The Grand Chennai Central Station’, that I had heard a great deal about. It didn’t look any different from other railway stations at my place, when I stepped out of the coach. I realized how vast it was, when I had to walk ten minutes to make my way through the busy crowd at 5am, and reach the exit. It had 12 stations stretched over one and half mile; and truly deserved to be called ‘MASSIVE’.

I took a breath of relief when I finally got out of that station. A fresh breeze of air felt refreshing, when I closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I found myself circled by a bunch of taxi drivers, some trying to grab my hand and my luggage, some cursing each other about who would carry this new boy in town. I didn’t panic because I knew my way to IIT. Firmly holding my luggage, I walked away towards the nearest subway across the road.

It looked a neat city, with clean roads, fast moving vehicles, differently shaped buses, metro rails, restaurants, and obviously busy people. I wanted to explore this city more, but for now I had to go to IIT first. A very polite bus conductor directed me to a bus to IIT. The bus raced on the smooth roads, crossed flyovers and in fifteen minutes I stood before the gate of my heaven that I had dreamt of. A day before I had read an article that said IIT, Madras is 30 cooler than rest of Chennai. I was ready to experience this chill.

The excitement grew every second as I travelled through the roads of IIT. Old rusty buildings hidden behind century-old trees, dense trench of trees where deer and monkeys could be spotted made me think if it was an engineering college or a natural habitat for animals. I told myself ‘may be this is how IITs are’. Instruction boards were at every corner that said interference in the animal’s habitat is punishable. Seriously!! Humans seemed like a worthless creature here compared to animals.

It was 8am when I got down at hostel area and was accommodated into a room, all for myself. I was tired because of last night’s sleepless journey, and my body cried for sleep. But as per timings of IIT, breakfast ended at 9. So I hurried to clean my stinking body. Nothing’s more refreshing than a cold shower in a hot summer morning. I rushed to mess for breakfast.

Unlike my expectations, North-Indian food sucked there. I just stuffed my stomach to quench my hunger, despite the disgusting taste. I stepped out to explore the surroundings. A minute later, I cursed that guy who wrote the article about IIT being cooler than Chennai. It was too humid there. Bathing everyday wasn’t a task of concern, because I got drenched in sweat every hour. I restrained myself from going out and chose to rest in my room.

My entire day was spent in my room, succumbed to my loneliness and boredom, doing nothing. I walked out of my den in the evenings when the place felt rather cooler. Interesting people flocked everywhere (People refers to strictly girls in hot dresses). Most of the students were South-Indian but only North-Indian girls caught my attention for one reason. Hearing a fair skinned girl speak Hindi fluently was captivating. But I couldn’t dare to walk to someone and spark a conversation or the least a formal HeLLO. I was neither as charming as ShahRukh, neither did I have a great physique like Hrithik, nor did I carry my style like Beckham; so there was nothing in me that would make a girl want to talk to me. I had always been bad at starting conversations with God’s favorite gender.

My expectations of this place were going way down, thinking I have to spend my evening just as I spent my morning, bored and alone. But thankfully, I saw something. FOOTBALL!! A bunch of local hostelites were playing football. I got into one of their teams and began the game. Everyone around there was resident of Godavari hostel and majority of them were from Karnataka. Damn, it was hard to communicate during the game coz the only language we both understood was English, and you know that the real emotions are best depicted by the language of my choice; Hindi. We did fairly well, trying to speak and we won the game with our marvelous (totally exaggerated) team effort by 3-1. I bid them bye and promised myself that my evenings are never going to be boring, as long as I am here.

That night, when I lay down on my bed, I felt tired of having done nothing all day. Gazing at the ceiling and the fan, I imagined how my life will be at IIT if I fortunately got in. These hostels, junky north Indian food, vast football playgrounds, world class sports facilities; I would do anything to get here. The next morning was my big day; the day of interview.

I woke up the next morning when sun rays peeking in from the window hit my face. I realized it was only 6am. I sat on my bed erect, and scanned the walls that were scribbled all over. Hand sketches of cartoons, forgettable phone numbers, poems (barely romantic), and hell lot of formulae written on one corner wall. FORMULAE!!! Damn it! I had totally forgotten to prepare for the interview. And in the baffle, before I could prepare something seriously, clock struck 7. I rushed to cleanse myself, masked myself with a strong deodorant that would last all day, stuffed my tummy with slices of bread, and off I go.

Good morning IITM. The morning sun shone bright, while many joggers were returning to their dorms. Group of friends flocked around everywhere, catching up on a morning waali chai, and phone bugs hung around with their phones and earphones on. With a bright smile on face, I got into the bus to find it all empty. Adjusting my trousers and my over sized formal shirt, I struggled to stabilize myself in the moving bus and grabbed a seat. I hated formals, coz I cannot carry them. But you see, these were mandatory for an interview.

In less than five minutes, I was at the mechanical engineering block. What a rusty old building it was, barely visible, hidden behind the trees and little deserted too. I asked myself if I was too early, but it was 8am and that’s when I was asked to appear. I found my way to seminar hall, where everyone else appearing for interview on the same day had gathered. My jaw dropped when I opened the door, seeing that there were no less than 800 students of which only 25 would be selected. For a moment I thought if I had come to the wrong place; may be this wasn’t the place for interview. The instruction plate on the door read clearly “Research interviews, Mechanical Engineering” and my doubt was answered. I looked through people there, some were of my age group and while others seemed to have graduated years ago. To my relief, I heard someone say that Ph.D candidates are also being interviewed on the same day and few of these might be appearing for that. I found a corner seat from where I could have a clear view of the entire place. Only a few were dressed in formals and were trying to not mess up their attire, and clearly they were first timers like me. Others were in shorts and casual Ts.

An hour later, instructions arrived that we had to appear for a screening test before facing the interview. Four hours later, I walked out of the exam hall, with my face doomed in mixed emotions. I flunked the written test. I had least hope of clearing it. Lunch at the cafeteria didn’t seem as bad as breakfast; or perhaps that’s what I felt. Screening test was worse than the lunch served. I ate my food in silence and walked to my dormitory. Dumped myself on the bed, and thought to myself “Was I not good enough for the interview?”. Before I could think of something, I fell asleep, out of the tiredness of the morning.

Evening was same as the day earlier, playing football, stalking at girls around, shopping in the local cloth store, and distracting my mind from the failure of today’s test. A little hope still persisted that I would do better the next day.

Three days flew away in the blink of an eye. I flunked miserably in all three interviews I attended. Actually I did fairly better in the last interview in comparison with the first two. Now it was time for me to pack my baggage and find my way out of this place. In four days, I had fallen so much in love with this place. The peaceful atmosphere here (forgetting the heavy moisture content that made me seat all day), the teaching facilities, students from every corner of the country, unforgettably beautiful and rarely seen north Indian girls; all of it was so alluring that I didn’t want to leave this place. It felt like I belonged to this place, like I always have wanted to be in a place like this. When I got down from the bus at the exit gate, I turned around to have one last glance at the top ranked college of India. That moment I told myself “promise yourself that one day you will walk in through these gates, and never have to leave again.”

Clock tick 6 when I walked into the “Chennai Central Station”. The hustle and bustle in the station added more discomfort besides my disappointment of returning home as a failure. It was peak time and everyone at the station was waiting for Chennai express to arrive. My thoughts were crashed by the announcement of the railway department that the train was delayed by 30 minutes. Karma!! Even the Railways don’t want me to leave Chennai so soon. I had to get myself out of these thoughts of dejection and failure, coz worrying now is no way going to help. And I thought to myself “what could be a better distraction than food”, when my eyes fell on the food truck stationed at a corner. Making my way through the crowd, I reached the menu board.

“Two dosas and a plate of Idlis,” I placed my order.

I was scanning through the menu, looking for something more tasty and spicy, when a girl slammed her hand on the counter.

“Six samosas and pudina chutney. Wait, also add Rasmalai to it. And please make it quick,okay?” She went back to looking at her phone and tapping her feet to the rhythm of the song playing in her ears.

“How bossy!! She could be a little polite. Hogi koi bade baap ki beti” I thought to myself.

My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the guy at the counter”72 rupees sir. That will be 72 rupeees”

I dug into my pockets for a change, but failed and handed him a 100 rupees note. He gave me 20 back and a five star chocolate, with a smile of gratitude.

“Paise kya tere baap ke ped pe ugte hain. Mann toh karta hai iss chocolate ko tere mooh mein ghusa doon” I thought to myself, but took that chocolate from him, with a made up smile, cursing him within. When I turned, the girl was gone. I turned around but she had disappeared in the crowd. Did she just vanish in a second??

Waiting hall was completely occupied. I managed to find a seat at a corner, and looked at my watch; 6:10pm. What do I do for twenty minutes now? Observe!! Observing people around always had been my best pass time. There were many young people around, in their mid twenties, and they all looked like they knew each other. Everyone was talking to someone around, except me who watched them talking. There was a bunch of girls at the far end, and from their baggage, they looked like they were on a holiday, perhaps on a adventure trip like trekking or camping. Beautiful and rough girls!! Adventure reminded me of the photos I had clicked at IIT, some next to the grazing antelopes, some at the great lake. Never in my life had I shot so many pictures at one place. I smirked thinking “Nature can really inspire you to become a photographer. “

Whistle of the train was loud, and at once the whole waiting hall stood to move. Chennai express had arrived, ten minutes before its delayed schedule time. I picked up my baggage, pulling my trunk; I craned over the crowd to look for the S5 coach.

Coach S5, L 47- Aryan Malhotra; I spotted my name on the reservation chart. I walked in and surprisingly I was the only one in the compartment. Resting my bag, relaxing on my berth, I peeked out of the window to look for water bottle vendor. Adjacent compartments were slowly filling up, but my compartment had only me yet. People of all age group were walking in and out of the coach, and I could hear raw Hyderabadi slang; it felt soothing to my ears to hear Hyderbadi language after so long(four days precisely). But what do I do alone in this empty compartment of mine? Updated my facebook status, tagged a few friends in hilarious posts, wished happy birthday to few others, scrolled through facebook wall, but everything seemed so regular and boring.

A noisy bunch of people entered the coach from one end, perhaps they were a joint family as it had kids, aunties, uncles in their 50’s and a huge huge luggage. One of the kids yelled “45 se 52 wahan hai” and my eyes popped out. No no no,I didn’t want this noisy family in my compartment to ruin my peace. And before I could gulp this fact below my throat, they began filling my compartment. 45,46,48,49,51,52; they filled in all seats; aunties with their heavy sarees were trying to load their baggage on upper birth, while I hardly had place to move my ankle. It felt suffocated sitting amidst them as they tried to figure out seats for each other. Moving out of this family drama, I pulled my bag and sat at the other single window seat, to have my peace time.

“sabko apni jagah milgayi? Aur meri jagah kahan hai?” a girl standing at the entrance spoke.

It was the same girl I had seen at the food court, and who vanished before my eyes. Rude and bossy!! Bade baap ki beti. I turned my eyes to not look at her.

“kahan reh gayi thi itni der? Yahan toh sab baith gaye hain. Tu woh window ke paas baith ja” an elderly lady of the family told her, pointing at the seat before me.

I was moving my eyes looking at the lady and the girl, when she said “Excuse me, will you move your bag please?”

“Sure” I said in a low voice, breaking my eye contact and moved bag on to my lap. Squeezing my legs close to make way for her to sit, I wished that she doesn’t fuss now, asking for more leg space. She sat down comfortably, adjusted her clothes, gulped some water and relaxed, while I was trying to squeeze my legs, so that I don’t accidentally touch her. My bag was heavy, but there was no place to rest it. My eyes were looking for some space and she caught me.

“May I help you please? I think your bag can fit in here” she said, pointing at the berth above her. She took my bag and placed it gently there.

“Thank you” I said in a sweet voice, surprised by her sweet gesture. This wasn’t expected.

She smiled and went back to flipping the pages of the book she held.

At the food court, I had no time to look at her. And from the first impression I had of her, I didn’t even wish to look at her. But this second impression of her was different. She wore a pink top with a creamy brown night pant; a small, tight bun over her head, and moderate sized reading classes. She looked cute though. No lip gloss, no eye liner, no plastic put upon face; it seemed like she had forgotten her makeup box in a hurry. She was so immersed in reading the book that she didn’t look up even once.

“Why am I admiring her beauty? As if I have nothing important to do” said to myself and went back to Facebook.

A minute later, one of the two kids in the family moaned, finding it difficult to sit in such little space. She came weeping to her elder sister, sitting before me.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry but can she sit here? She wants to be with me” asked she, looking at me hoping I would nod at her.

“Bag rakhne ke liye jagah nahi hai,and now you want your sister here” I thought to myself. But before I could speak something, the little kid, moved my leg and found her space between us. I was gaping at her in dumb shock, thinking “Fuck, I better jump off the window than squeal here”

“Thank you, I hope you are comfortable “she spoke again, with that bloody disgustingly sweet smile on face. I nodded, having nothing else to say.

Bored of facebook, I thought of starting a conversation with her. But what do I say first? I never have spoken to a girl myself. The book in her hand was PRIDE and PREJUDICE. This seemed like good way to start things off. But at that very moment, the name of its author escaped my mind. Arthur Daniel, William Leslie; it wasn’t any of these names that passed my mind. Author’s name on the cover was so small, that I couldn’t read. I bent my head to have a better view of the cover, when she saw me.

“Pride and Prejudice, the best seller of its year” she said, showing me the book.

I leaned back, calmly and said “Of course, I know”, trying to sound confident.

“Have you read it? I bought this book a while ago at the stall” she said.

“No, I didn’t. But my friend has, and he said it’s good” I said with a shaky voice.

“Of course. That’s why I bought it” she responded, not sounding very friendly.

I leaned back to my seat and took a breath of relief. Thankfully I didn’t showcase as a fool, before her.

An hour passed and we kept quiet; I, hoping she would look at me and boost me to talk to her, and she, being deeply immersed in reading. Fuck! I hated that book in her hands so much. But I chose to break the silence myself.

“So, where do you live in Hyderabad?” I enquired, to which she raised her cheeky big eyes, hiding behind the large frame of glasses.

“Sultanpur. But we are shifting soon to Gandipet. We bought a new house there.” She grinned.

“Wow, that’s cool. And what’s with the visit to Chennai?” I questioned, desiring to know more.

“Big fat wedding. My cousin got married this week. And our entire family had attended it.” She said, showing me her mehendi.

“Is this all your family?”I blurted out, even before I knew what I had asked. That question was really offensive. I fucked up this good going conversation myself. But to my surprise, came her answer “No, the rest of my family is in the next coach. We couldn’t get our seats at one place. You see, ours is a joint family” she smirked.

That’s a GIANT family.

The conversation got better with time. She was sounding sweet to my ears, friendlier than I would expect a stranger to be (especially a girl), and preferring to talk to me over reading the book she carried. Had the sun risen in the east, or was I dreaming? Never had a girl been so nice to me to have talked to me for fifteen minutes at a stretch. Wow! Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted talk with a girl. That felt like an achievement in my life.

Rage of my expectation usually peaked in fraction of minutes. An introvert like me, had lots of things on his list that were yet to be experienced. Some of these to-do’s were talking to a girl, asking for her number, kissing someone, dancing in public with a girl and etc.

It was soon 8pm, and train halted for few minutes at a station. I peeked out of the window, and saw that more passengers were flooding the train. But our coach still seemed spacious, fairly vacant. By then, the giant family next to me had drooped over their Tiffin boxes, feeding each other, littering the entire seat like uncivilized barbarians. This girl, sat before me quietly eating her food, with her ear phones plugged in, and looking out of the window. She didn’t look like she was a part of this noisy, uncivilized family. She was different.

I was finished with the food I had bought for dinner. Stretching my arms, and yawning, I grabbed the novel in my bag. Before I opened the first page of it, the lights of the compartment were turned off. The family was done with dinner and shut the lights off to sleep in peace, unbothered of my presence there. Surprisingly, even the girl had fallen asleep in just a minute. Damn it, I wanted to talk to her, but I cannot dare to wake her for this silly desire of mine. I usually don’t sleep so early. WTF should I do now!!

Tossing around on my berth, I was looking at the dark sky, in a disgusted mood. I hadn’t caught any sleep since the lights turned down. My watch flashed 11pm and I let out a heavy breath of discomfort. The family was deep asleep, snoring heavily to their pleasures, where as I barely had space to move my legs. Cautious that I didn’t disturb the herd, I tiptoed to the door.

Silence brooded over the whole coach, as everyone was fast asleep. Finally there was some peace in the darkness of the coach. Cool breeze of air brushed my face as I stood at the door. Train had caught its full speed. Little lights glowed at a distance, and the feeble cry of cattle could be heard. I always wanted to live my life in a country side home like these, where peace wasn’t scarce. I sat down at the door, to live that moment for a little longer.

“You wouldn’t die if you jump off, instead would end up with broken limbs and disfigured face” I heard a voice from behind.

I turned around, and to my aghast it was her.

“What are you doing here?” I asked horrified.

“You surely don’t own this place. Do you?” her reply slammed on my face.

“I mean, you were asleep right? You lay motionless so long, so I thought you were fast asleep” I retorted.

“So you were stalking me!! “She probed doubtfully.

“Uhh…..” I fell silent. She caught me in the act.

“Chill…. So what are you doing here?” she enquired.

Tumhare family ne mujhe sone kahan diya. I let go off my disgust look on face and turned sweet, to answer her “I couldn’t sleep. I’m not used to sleeping so early.”

“Hmmm….” She exclaimed, sitting down next to me. She looked gorgeous as her hair flew over hair, and she pulled them across her ears.

“So what’s your story?” She asked, looking straight into my eyes. I was jolted by her question. My story!! What does she mean?

“I don’t have any story” I retorted.

“I mean, what brought you to Chennai?” she cleared.

“I was here to attend interviews at IITM”, I answered facing the fast moving trees outside.

“I thought IIT was a college, but not a company. What did you attend interviews for?” she pondered.

“It was for the post of research scholar. It’s for those who wish to do research” I explained in not more than a line, assured that she had no freaking idea of what it was.

“That’s cool” she exclaimed, but with an ironic expression. “Nerd” she whispered in silence.

With passing minutes, she made herself comfortable sitting next to me, leaning on the door for back rest, and closing her eyes now and then. Silence brooded over. I had started to feel little uncertain about how to initiate the talk, though deep within my mind wanted to spend the night talking to her.

“I didn’t catch your name”, I said timidly, trying to sound cool.

“I never told you my name” she replied in an imperious tone, with her eyes still closed. I was awed about how quickly she switches from being sweet the-girl-next-door kind of person to being bossy, egoistic brat kind of person.

I refrained from snapping back at her. Insecurity was driving me now.

“I mean, what’s your name?” I asked, not looking at her.

“Aisha….. Aisha Gujraal is my name. What’s yours?” I heard her question, while I was still gazing outside.

I turned to her, with a smile, but noticing that she still had her eyes closed, I retorted in despair “Devansh Awasthi”.

“Tum toh naam se hi nerd lagte ho”, she blurted out laughing to herself. But silenced, seeing my grave expression. Damn her senseless jokes.

“Sorry yaar, but I’m not used to talking to nerds. This is my first time” she said and giggled.

Offended to the limit, I turned, moved an inch away and went on to enjoy my own company.

“So, what do you do?” she enquired, pretending to be sweet again. I didn’t bother to respond back.

“Hello, I asked what you do” she raised her pitch to make herself audible, amidst the noise of the train.

“Graduation…. Pursuing B.Tech now.” I replied in mono-syllables. Who damn cares to answer her anyway? I dislike her already.

“Oh, I study Commerce, and I totally hate it.” She uttered in a miserable tone.

I already had heard this a million times from many. I wasn’t bothered by her reply, and kept my eyes glued to the view outside.

“I said I hate commerce” she yelled at her highest pitch, assuming that I hadn’t heard her the first time. Damn! Why does she want to be heard always? Why is she here to ruin my tranquility?

“Oh..” I muttered, not knowing what to respond. “so what do you wish to do, if not commerce”

“Fashion Designer!! I wish to be a fashion designer. This one time, I saw a movie in which the lead actress is a wedding planner, and since then, I have been obsessed about it” she said delightfully.

I had the faintest idea of this career choice. I had never heard anyone pursue it, but it surely sounded interesting.

“And how do you think of getting there?” I asked in amusement.

“I haven’t thought of it yet. But I will find a way” she said with a pleasant smile. She seemed certain about her choice of life. I turned towards her, and now she was facing me. It seemed like the perfect moment to start a conversation, now that we both had a pleasant expression.

Clock ticked 12, and I was puzzled about where to begin. The awkward silence, that crept in, amidst the pleasant smiles on our faces, had to cut down.

“Tell me about you. Where do you live in Hyderabad ?” she broke the hush.

And with that began our never ending talk. We were comfortable talking to each other, though we were complete strangers a few hours ago. I didn’t know the reason why? Perhaps it was because of the serene, tranquil night with its clear sky and dazzling star, that worked like magic.

Two hours passed, and we hadn’t stopped. I had never felt time fly so easy, and never had I talked to a girl for so long. I have to ask for her number. I don’t know how. Before I could utter the next word, I heard a voice from behind us.

“Aisha, what on earth are you doing here, at this time?” It was her aunt. She was horrified, seeing that we had been sitting for more than hour at the train door. To me, she looked nothing less than hungry lioness, ready to hunt me down. Her eyes blazed with anger, and in the flash of light that fell on her face, she looked like a blood thirsty vamp.

“ Chachi,main toh bas……” and before she could finish, she was shushed and dragged away by her aunt. I sat there baffled, thinking about what I could have said to avoid this from happening. But then, I felt Acha kiya jo kuch nahi bola, warna aur bura ho sakta tha. Perhaps we were meant to get along this far. I convinced myself that there was no coming back of her, and it was in best interest of me that I rested my eyes now. Less than two hours were left for the sun to hit the skies.

I woke up the next morning, not because of the sun rays peeking in from the adjacent window, but because of the chaos in the compartment. The GIANT family had woke up, and now I was seeing them, gravely staring at me. Instinctively I covered myself, fearing I might be in an obscene posture or was uncovered. Few seconds later, it struck me that the reason was what happened last night. I rolled my eyes around to avoid looking at them, but from the corner of my eye, I could still see Vamp Aunt explain them the scenario of last night. Embarrassed, I moved out to other compartment to avoid any further humiliation, and glued my eyes to my phone screen. A few minutes later, Aisha woke up. She seemed normal, unaffected and walked to washroom. She didn’t even notice me sitting by the window side, ready to smile at her if she looked. But she didn’t.

In less than 20 minutes, the train halted at Hyderabad station. The jostling crowd, waiting for 9am train to work, covered the entire platform. It wasn’t unusual. I grabbed my bags, and got down the train. As I was scanning through the crowd, I saw her family get down too. I stood at a distance, hoping that she would at least look for me. A minute passed, and it turned harder for me to stand there in despair. Finally, there family walked past me. I was still gazing at her, desperately hoping that she would turn around to look at that guy she spent the last night talking to. But no, it didn’t happen. Soon they disappeared in the crowd, and I was left there thinking “This was how it’s supposed to end. When did anything start in the first place? We only had a conversation for a few hours last night, in seclusion, which by no way means that we would see each other’s faces the next morning. I am a total jerk to have thought that the conversation mattered to her. She must have had thousands of such conversations with thousands of strangers…. But it certainly mattered to me, coz it was my first time.”

Soon, we parted our ways amidst the bustling crowd, and disappeared in the busy streets of Hyderabad, my home.