themickey

[themickey]

between everything with reece and then her talk with kamon, mickey still couldn't sleep. it was hard for her to wrap her mind around since this house used to be the one place where mickey always felt at peace in. it was her home, even after she moved to canada, coming back to woodrow made her feel great. but now, after everything this week, mickey could barely rest. a part of her thought about getting a drink, the past few nights, that was all that would help her fall asleep, but after reece's relapse, she felt like it was a bad idea to fall into something like that. instead, she found herself wandering around the house.

she was on her way to the terrace to have a cigarette when she heard noises coming from the kitchen. it was the middle of the night, everyone should be asleep but it seems like one of her siblings were also struggling falling asleep. she walked into the kitchen to see frankie in the middle of cooking something. doing the mental math, mickey figured out what time it was in italy and assumed frankie must have some jet lag from her travel since she arrived so late into the week.

she laughed when frankie jumped straight into defending herself to mrs. tristian who was probably sound asleep next door in the staff quarters. "sorry, didn't mean to send you back to being a kid," she said with a chuckle. "uh, sure, what are you making?"

Location: Main Kitchen

Date: Midnight | September 8, 2005

Closed starter for @themickey

Thirty years old and it still felt naughty to be alone in the kitchen past ten, but maybe that was because everything was still where it always had been, a living memorial to the past.

Frankie crept in barefoot, the susurration of beading on her dress hinting that she was there in the dark. She felt for the light switch without needing to see it, knew the tinny kitchen radio would be perched on the window sill ready to be tuned to 106.7 Lite FM at a low volume. The bread was in the pantry, cheese was on the third shelf of the fridge, butter on the left side door. Pots were stored under the large marble island in the middle of the kitchen, but the stainless steel pans, perfect for a late-night grilled cheese, were hung above the stoves.

She went through the familiar motions, preparing the bread and resting both slices to toast on the stove-top (with four slices of cheese, because why do less when you could do more?) Delilah queueing up late-night Macy Gray kept her company as the smell of melting butter filled the air.

Above the sizzling pan, the sound of footsteps. "I'm going to do the dishes!" Frankie shouted, a preemptive defense, turning sharply, prepared to see Mrs. Tristan looming.

Except, instead of a lecture, company. "Oh, Mick." Frankie nodded toward the stove. "Do you want one?"

[themickey]

closed starter @starrrling when: directly after the talent show where: the hall outside the spare room

mickey watched in horror as reece stepped up again, fear running through her as to what she could possibly do. was one shot enough to send her over the edge after months of not drinking? guilt swirled in her gut as she watched. she should have stopped her, she should have pulled the cup from her hands and not hidden it from the others. yet why didn't she? why didn't she stop her best friend from falling off the wagon? why did she help her and cover for her?

her mouth fell open as reece started to speak, telling the real story of the last time she had seen richard. none of them knew, how could they? it's not like reece had told any of them before this moment. yet still, there was more guilt bubbling because she didn't know. finally mrs. tristian stepped up and dismissed them all, breaking the silent spell that reece had put them under with her confession.

mickey jumped up from her seat as reece started to leave and caught her out in the hall, her hand going to reece's wrist to stop her. she need to stop her before she inevitably ended up in the wine cellar and throwing her seven months of sobriety down the drain with even more liquor. "reece," she said, the single word coming out as if a beg. "reece, please talk to me."

[themickey]

task: reflect on a memory in the great room as a teenager

the year is 1996, mickey is 17 years old

mickey has always felt out of place in the woodrow house; at first it was because she didn't speak english like the rest of the wards, but as she got older and could communicate with everyone, that feeling never quite went away. there was always something off about her. she tried to be like her pseud siblings, she tried to fit in and copy her sisters. she'd wear the nice clothes mrs. tristian would wash and hang in her room, she'd brush her long brown hair and pin it back out of her face, she'd try to be like natalia and alison. but something always felt wrong.

the only time she felt like she didn't have to pretend was when she was reece and meera. sure, she knew at times they probably just kept her around to take the fall for them when they got into trouble, but she didn't mind, she liked being included.

it wasn't until she was around 15 when she started to understand why she was so different from the others.

mickey started noticing how she didn't have crushes on boys- not any in the house or on any of her extra curricular teams. she didn't even have crushes on celebrity boys like her siblings who couldn't stop talking about jonathan taylor thomas' hair. mickey would rather do literally anything else to get out of talking about boys with the other girls in the house. instead, she noticed the way her mind would drift off when she thought about women. her heart would race when she stepped into fencing practice and she saw her coach, a 30-something butch woman who mickey was strangely fascinated by.

she was scared by these feelings, scared of what her family would think, scared of what that said about her. she didn't want to tell anyone. she didn't want to disappoint richard.

she kept it a secret for a long time, until one night when she and reece were drinking in her room and it just came out.

"i think i might like girls, the way i'm supposed to like boys," mickey said, cheek pressed against the half open window where she was blowing cigarette smoke out of.

"shit, really?" reece asked

"yeah."

and that was that, mickey had come out to her best friend, and reece didn't even care. in fact, she shared those feelings, even if reece said she did like boys. as time went on, reece became her confidant for those feelings. and blame it on the close proximity or teenage hormones, at times they would even "practice" with each other. at least that was how mickey tries to frame it now that she's older and seeing everyone as her siblings. it was just practice, right? it was practice when they would kiss in their rooms and then go about their days like it didn't happen. it was practice when she started having feelings for the girl. it was practice when mickey broke it off because it started getting too real for her and she didn't want things to get weird between them because mickey started seeing everyone as her siblings and not just classmates who lived together.

she started dressing differently after that. sometimes, she would sneak into angus' room after he had gone to college and take his clothes and wear them. mrs. tristian was furious. she lectured her for so long about how things are supposed to be, how girls aren't supposed to wear boys clothes, how mickey needed to stop acting out and be the "good girl she knows she is."

mickey was so ashamed. that is until richard found out and told her that it was okay, that she didn't need to conform to society and if she felt more comfortable in boys clothes, then he would allow her to shop in the men's department.

it was when she was 17 that she took the next step to feel more like herself.

mickey and reece had gone to see bound in theaters when it first came out. mickey was scared to tell anyone what they were seeing, but she was filled with buzzing excitement when they two of them sat in the back of the movie theater with a bucket of popcorn sat between them.

seeing gina gershon in that dirty tank top and leather jacket changed something in her. that was what she wanted to look like, what she wanted to be like. it was the first time she saw someone like her on screen and it felt so good.

"i think i want to cut my hair," mickey had said as they walked out of the movie theater.

and that was how they ended up in mickey's on suite bathroom and reece standing over her with scissors in her hand. as clumps of long hair started falling off her shoulders, mickey couldn't stop smiling.

admittedly, it was not a good hair cut, it was choppy and uneven, but mickey didn't care. for the first time in her lift, she felt like herself when she looked in the mirror.

of course, once she left her room, that confidence left her. she knew mrs. tristian would lecture her again, maybe even the other wards would judge her or look at her differently. but there was one person she knew wouldn't.

she found richard in the great room with a book in his hands. mickey cleared her throat to get his attention and as he looked up, she could see the shock on his face for a split second before he controlled his features.

"oh wow," he said, setting the book down on his lap. richard stops and thinks for a moment that felt like eternity to mickey who was waiting, hoping, for him to approve. "are you happy with it?" he asks instead. mickey nods shyly. "well that is all that matters. you know that i will never stop you from expressing yourself, michèle." he smiled at her and mickey felt like she could breath again.

"thank you, richard," she said.

"although," he started with a soft chuckle. "maybe next time i can take you to the barber shop so it doesn't look so-"

"is it bad?" she cuts him off, a hand going up to her freshly cut hair.

"no, no it's just... different." she could tell he was trying to be nice. "though i think a professional would do a better job. which of your housemates helped you?"

"reece," she admitted.

"ah of course, you two," he says, shaking his head but there is a smile on his lips as if he wouldn't expect anything else. "well make sure to clean up so mrs. tristian doesn't get upset and i will have a talk with her about your new hair cut."

"okay, i will. and... thank you."

"of course, mickey," he smiles before going back to his book.

[themickey]

"sometimes, we really do have a tell," mickey said, speaking for lesbian stereotypes. though, mickey hasn't worn overalls since she was over the age of ten, but it was a pretty classic look.

mickey held her hand out to receive her reward but then natalia pulled it away. "oh come on! i told you middle names were weird!" she thought about lying for a second, just make up some random name because natalia would never go over there to confirm if mickey had actually gotten her middle name. but mickey was fair and not very good at lying. "i got her wife's name, that should count for something," she said with a laugh.

"It's supposed to be a challenge, duh. Name and number is far too easy," Natalia explained the reasoning behind her choices. Middle name and favorite color were also incredibly innocuous. If there was a chance Overalls was homophobic, she could step in a say Mickey was her home-schooled sister who didn't get out much. Like, just this year didn't get out much.

Lifting her drink up to her mouth for a sip, she urged Mickey forward with the raise of her brows, watching with bubbling amusement as the other ward made her to the other side of the room. Did she feel concern that this could go very terribly? Some, admittedly. Anything could happen in a townie bar in upstate New York. But she also figured with a mind as big as hers, Mickey could be quick on her feet and find a way to diffuse the situation if it went awry.

Natalia watched the scene like a judge on a panel, issuing points for things she believed were positive about the exchange. Smiles. Laughter. An actual back-and-forth. Amiable seeming at that. It wasn't until Mickey was walking towards her with a wide grin on her face that Natalia remembered she'd put money on this.

"A wife?" Natalia looked impressed. "I knew I was right about those overalls." She reached into her purse and procured a crisp twenty to hand Mickey. But just before she let the bill touch the other ward's palm, Natalia stopped and reminded her there were two conditions to winning the twenty dollar prize. "What's her middle name?"

[themickey]

sitting up a little straighter as kamon finally stepped into the room, she looked back at the screen for a moment. "dead poets society," she said softly. "have you ever thought about how it's framed as if neil and todd are lovers and it could be seen as a tragic love story between two boys?" she thought out loud, prolonging the real reason why kamon had come to see her. she remembered being bored with the movie when richard had showed it to them when they were younger, she was too young to understand what was happening and cared more about the popcorn and gossip she and other younger wards had shared in the corner of the room, but now she had a new appreciation for it.

when kamon ask if she wanted to talk, mickey kept her face neutral, not wanting to show how much she really didn't want to talk. she knew it was strange and of course kamon would notice how off she seemed. they used to talk all the time, he was always the constant in all of her visits over the years, he was the only one who stayed home with his work the foundation. but now, now mickey knew that he and richard had a falling out and how guilty richard felt about it. "sure, we can talk," she said anyway, smiling at the boy as if this hasn't been plaguing her mind for the past thirty six hours. "how are you holding up?"

he lingers near the doorway of the movie theatre. the air smells different here, and if he closed his eyes, he is sure it would bring him back years ago. with all of them sitting on those chairs, with richard in the middle, a smile on his face. the wards would be all around him, some buzzing with excitement for whichever movie he brought from his travels. there would be popcorn on rare occasions such as these, and sometimes it would spill all over the floors when it was a horror movie. they'd shriek, and then they'd laugh. the memory hits harder than he thought it would. the back of his eyes sting, and he has to blink a few times to shoo the tears away. kamon's tormented by the passing of time. by his mistakes, by the weight of his regrets. they never seem to leave his shoulders now. he doesn't think they ever will. mickey's voice brings him back, and he leans against the frame, until she lets him in. pushing himself away from the door, he steps further inside. "oh, which movie did you go for?" does not necessarily think it will make a difference, though wants to know, curious about which comfort move mickey chose. they have always been close, though now, with so much pain, he does not know how to comfort her. "it's been — rough. not surprising that even some of our favorite movies aren't much relief." kamon hasn't tried that just yet, though sees no reason to. already knows it can't help him. "that's why... i wanted to come see you. to see if... you'd like to talk? or- anything, really."

[themickey]

cover for me. the words were so familiar, spoken hundreds of times over their years together and every single time, mickey did as she was told. she was naive and always found herself in trouble thanks to reece and meera when they were younger, but that was only because of one thing: no matter what, mickey was loyal. all she ever cared about was fitting in and having people care about her, so if that meant taking the fall for reece's hangovers or explaining to richard that meera was arrested at a protest yet again, mickey always did it. she did it for her friends, for her siblings.

so when reece told her, once again, cover for me, of course mickey did even if there a knot at the pit of her stomach. she knew better than to stop reece, especially with all of their siblings right there. she felt like she was transported back ten years, the small teenager who couldn't quiet understand the things reece was telling her to do, frozen in fear of losing her friend.

mickey watched as reece took one of the cups, turned, and drank it. she didn't take one for herself, she left it untouched. one out of sixteen, plausible deniability for reece's sobriety if any of the others were to look too closely. when the other girl sets the cup down in front of her, mickey quickly replaced reece's hand over the rim and looked at her. she wanted to pull her away, to talk to her, but naomi was standing up and taking her turn. instead, she locked eyes with her and silently asked; do you feel better now? was it worth it? but most of all, are you okay? what should i do?

There was that sinking feeling again. The bereft, lusterless, autumn stretched out in front of her, and there was the liquor, oozing artificial color; she felt a sick sort of inevitability when Frankie said, I thought everything could use a pick-me-up. God, wasn’t it all so fucking dour? And she showed up and sang a sad song, thinking only of doom—what the fuck was she doing? She was suddenly seized by the idea that maybe she wasn’t any better when she was sober, just way more fucking sad. Hadn’t she still managed to torpedo her own life all along, and done it dry, to boot? And if she was afraid of being like her mom, well, it was probably too late for that; and it wasn’t like there was anybody left for Reece to try to make proud. 

Baby hair at the back of Reece’s neck prickled while she watched Frankie finish pouring the last of the shots. She swallowed hard, trying to imagine a following sequence of events that included the preservation of her sobriety, but she came up blank. She thought vaguely and distantly of coping mechanisms, of Zelda from Queens who didn’t even know about Richard, because Reece had decided not to tell her, as she’d decided not to tell her about Jack. Reece felt a hot pillar of self-loathing radiating from her ribcage, right between her lungs, and she heard Zelda’s rasping voice saying acutely, Doesn’t matter if you’re dry if you still act like a drunk. That terrible feeling: something that could be crystal-clear hindsight, clouded and complicated and confused by grief and by guilt, and all of the other awful feelings. She felt like a lost cause, something contemptible, and the fact of her drinking the Somewhere Over the Rainbow seemed suddenly predetermined, formidable. 

She heard her own lower voice in Mickey’s ear before she knew what she was doing, falling back into the cruel incantation: “Cover for me,” said quietly, with the implication of accomplice as Reece did exactly what she always did. Countless times during their teenage years she’d said the same three words to Mickey, with the exact intention varying—sometimes, she was asking for Mickey to cover up a hangover by swearing to Richard and Mrs. Tristan that no, Reece had been home all night last night, yes, it was really the flu; other times, she’s task Mickey with excusing her absence during some gathering or another so she could sneak off to top off her water with gin. Mostly, though, she was asking this: be on my side. When Reece knew that she was doing something wrong—something that made her angry at herself, something that would make everyone else angry at her—she wanted Mickey to still be on her side. So, surreptitiously, using Mickey as a partial body-shield to disguise a quickly moving hand, she took a shot for herself, turning away and bringing the cup to her lips before anybody could notice in the middle of everything. When the liquor touched her tongue sinking, sinking, a trustfall backwards into that woozy, intoxicated rhythm.cShe hastily and quietly set her cup down on the table in front of Mickey, as though it’d been hers all along, and locked eyes with her, speechless, helpless. She shrugged.

[themickey]

mickey should have been smart like natalia and taken a break, a bunch of shots back to back was definitely not a smart idea and ordering a beer next was also not smart, but there was something so nice about alcohol. sometimes she can see why reece struggles with it so much. it just makes socializing so much easier sometimes.

taking a sip of her beer, she nearly spit it out at natalia's challenge. "i- what?" she looked over to the woman she was pointing out. she wasn't unattractive but the idea of going up to a stranger and flirting with her without knowing if she was gay or some homophobic townie was scary. mickey hasn't flirted with anyone since she met jessica and even with jessica, she was oblivious to the face that jessica actually liked her. but...tonight was about having fun and mickey was very easily persuaded. "okay, deal. but asking for a middle name is weird."

she took one more swing of the beer, setting it down for natalia to watch before going over to the woman. walking over, she prayed that she wasn't about to hate-crimed by some soccer mom looking woman, that is not what she needed on top of this already awful week. but when she went up to her, she flashed the woman her classic wide grin and started talking to her. thankfully, she was not hate-crimed. they talked and laughed for a couple minutes before mickey said her goodbyes and went back over to natalia with a shit eating grin on her face. "her favorite color is green," she says with pride before continuing. "but her wife's favorite color is purple."

Another drink sounded good, but the rational part of Natalia knew it wasn't the smartest idea. The obscene amount of shots they took within half an hour of being here were still swimming in her system. If she didn't pace herself, she might find herself headfirst in a toilet bowl. And in a bar as dingy as this, she absolutely refused. She'll be nursing a seltzer with a slice of lime in it for the foreseeable future.

"I'll give you 20 bucks if you go flirt with a townie," she told Mickey once they were standing by the counter again. "What about her, over there?" She jutted her chin toward a woman on the other side of the room. Probably in her 30s. Sandy blonde hair. Looked like someone's sporty aunt. "She's wearing overalls, that's like... a good thing, right?" Wearing overalls as an adult told Natalia one of two things: that you worked on a farm or you were gay. "Get her... middle name. And her favorite color."

[themickey]

in all of her past visits, mickey never had trouble falling back into a routine. though, all those times, they were coming home. this time, woodrow house was like a ghost town, it's walls were full but the main member of their family was gone. it was because of this that she, and perhaps everyone in the house, has been having trouble sleeping. the first few nights, she would drink with her siblings in the hopes of easing her mind but after what happened with reece today, she decided to power through the night sober.

though, since she was sober, she was wide wake. she tried sleeping but no sleep came for her, which lead her to wander the house until she found herself in the movie theater with some movie playing quietly on the screen that she was barely paying attention to.

hearing a knock on the door, mickey looked up to see kamon step inside. "hey," she said softly with a smile. she hadn't meant to avoid kamon, they used to be so close in all the times mickey would visit over the years, but ever since she read what she did in richard's journal the day before, she has been having trouble looking him in the eyes. she hated having secrets and this secret was pretty huge. "yeah, of course. i couldn't sleep and thought maybe a movie would help, so far, it hasn't."

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: SOMEWHERE IN THE ESTATE, EVENING 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: KAMON BOONMEE, THE TORMENTED. 𝐓𝐎: MICKEY JACQUEMIN, THE NOSTALGIC. [ @themickey ]

kamon can't sleep much, and at some hours, not at all. since that courier showed up in front of his door and his world turned upside down, everything feels nervewracking. the grief is always there, a pain that latches on, only made worse by the torment of reality. the last few days are gone in a haze, and he tries to do his best to keep what happened a secret, while also trying to hide his guilt. it takes a herculean amount of effort, for he had always worn his heart on his sleeve. it is also odd, existing around the wards again, all at once, suddenly seeing them at every corner, after years of living here without them. oh, how he wished they all met again under better circumstances, though that becomes the least of his worries. there is- a lot going on, and it feels impossible to keep track of it all. one of those worries, something that gets stuck in his head, is how mickey has been behaving, distant, odd — and kamon has chalked it up to the news of her breakup, which only makes him feel more worried. it is exactly why he decides to seek her out, to try to figure out if there is anything he can do. even the mere idea of being able to help is better than rolling in his bed. it takes a bit of time, though having lived in this house almost his entire life, kamon finds her after a while. the door is ajar, and his knuckles rap on the wooden surface before it's slowly pushed open. "mickey- hey —" he starts, gingerly taking a step inside. "are you free? do you have some time to... talk?"

[themickey]

closed starter @starrrling when: the talent show, as frankie is going

mickey was so grateful to be done with her turn at the talent show, it seemed to go over decently, at least more entertaining than if she stood up and did some math equation or something. taking her seat next to reece as frankie stepped up to take her turn, mickey pushed back sweaty bangs off her forehead. it's been years since she had fenced, but it was still as exhilarating as it was as a teen though a bit tiring now as an adult. she watched as frankie pressed play on christmas music and started setting up 16 tea cups, her head cocking as she tried to figure out what she was doing. it was when she pulled out a bottle that it started to dawn on her. she counted the cups again and despite herself, she glanced next to her to reece. did frankie really intend for them all to take shots in richard's memory? she couldn't focus on frankie's kind words for richard because all she could think about was how she had just poured a ticking time bomb for their sober sister.

[themickey]

mickey shrugs at natalia's words. everyone always tells her how nice and friendly she is, but mickey doesn't really try to be, it's just how she is. "i think i just talk too much and it makes people give in and be my friend," she says with a chuckle. or at least, they put up with her enough for her to believe they are her friends. she never was very good at picking up on when people genuinely care when they were using her.

she doesn't push natalia when she doesn't say anything. she knew how the other girl was, she had walls higher than woodrow itself. it was nearly impossible for natalia to let someone see past them. mickey was grateful for any crack she was able to peak into. she just let it go, hoping that natalia knew how much she cared about her.

taking natalia's arm, she laughed lightly. "it's okay, deep conversations are nice, but maybe not this soon." she loved talking about richard, but it was still too fresh to really let it sink in that he was really gone. opening the door for them, she walked back into the bar. "let's get another drink and pretend were in the city, surrounded by fun, hot people to flirt with or something instead of a bunch of old townies."

For better or for worse, Woodrow changed them. To truly understand any ward at all, you had to understand Woodrow. Perhaps it was why it was difficult to connect with others who didn't experience life growing up the way they did. "Listen, for someone who didn't attend private school, you get along with people far better than a lot of us do. I wouldn't be so quick to regret your choice." For all of her eccentricities, it was no secret that Mickey was arguably one of the most likable among the wards.

It was nice for Mickey to say these things, but stubbornness lived in Natalia like the chip that had yet to be pried from deep within her shoulder. Mickey couldn't understand because she was chosen by Richard after all. Plucked from a sea of misfortune for her sharp mind. Natalia was… a favor? A sad story brought in front of him by someone he knew. She wasn’t noteworthy otherwise. Her tragedy was practically the most striking thing about her. But in a house like Woodrow, where grief and pain seemed to lurk around every corner, tragedy meant nothing. In her mind, there was no choice but to try and keep up with them. How else could she feel like she deserved to be among them?

You're working for a famous fashion designer on Paris of all places. You are talented in ways I could never be. Natalia wanted to laugh. Truly, just let out the most big and bellowing laugh. Mickey had no idea. As a child, Natalia couldn’t fathom being unruly because being unruly in the house she came from meant shattered plates and yelling. She also only taught Mickey English because she needed help with Math in return; she didn’t exactly have a heart of gold. And right now, the thing that was supposedly impressive about her – a job with a famous fashion designer in Paris – she didn’t even have that. So really, there was nothing. Mickey was getting choked up over things she didn’t know the whole truth of. If Natalia was good for anything, maybe it was covering up ugly truths, fashioning them to seem pretty and digestible when they were the opposite.

It became clear very quickly to Natalia that it was a mistake to bring up Richard, even casually. Something as innocent as a question about whether or not she chose to forget a few gardening techniques has turned into a moment of vulnerability from Mickey that was sure to linger in Natalia's mind long after their fun night out came to a close.

“Yeah, maybe talking about Richard wasn’t the move,” she admitted, forcing a soft chuckle to help ease the heaviness of the moment. “I’m supposed to be cheering you up, not bumming you out. Let’s go back inside.” She put out her cigarette, hooked her arm around Mickey’s, and led her back in.

[themickey]

mickey's timeline

march 5th 1979- mickey is born in montreal canada

1986- mickey's mom passes suddenly from a heart attack, she meets her bio dad and is put into the foster system when he refuses care

1986 to 1989- mickey moves around 6 foster homes

1990- richard visits mickey's school on business and takes her in as the last ward

1997- mickey is accepted to kingsbury university

2000- mickey starts dating jessica

2001- mickey graduates college. she and jessica move to montreal for mickey's job

july 2005- mickey sees richard for the last time

august 2005- mickey and jessica start fighting and break up

september 2005- mickey comes back to woodrow for richard's funeral

[themickey]

when mickey first came here, she saw the week going much differently than it has. of course it has been sad and emotionally draining, but the things mrs. tristian has been having them do was just odd. she loved doing the scavenger hunt but richard's absence was noticed. fixing the greenhouse seemed like a waste of time in her opinion but she only voiced that opinion to natalia. and now today, a talent show? it was like mrs. tristian was just giving them random things to do to distract them but it was just making mickey feel worse about being here without richard. she was sitting up in her bed, reading an old book from her bookcase that she had forgotten about when she heard a knock on her door and then a head pop inside. "yeah, i'm awake," she said, setting her book down. "what's up?"

when: after 11pm

where: mickey's room

with: @themickey

eliza had been feeling out of sorts the entire day. in any other occasion the talent show would have been a fun, easy time, but richard's absence was like a well hidden cut, always present, always bleeding. standing in the spare room with her siblings, it had been suffocating. so, after twisting and turning in her bed, eliza had given up on a reasonable bed time and set out to discover if the day had been weighting down on anyone else. that's why she knocked on mickey's door and slipped her head inside. "hey. you awake?" she mock-whispered.

[themickey]

mickey couldn't help but laugh when natalia said she should have lit reece's hair on fire. she loved reece, but there were times when they were younger that she can see now were just reece picking on her. maybe even in the moment she knew it to be true. but all mickey ever wanted was to fit in and have people like her, she thought if she went along with what reece wanted, then that would be true. she was so naive. "yeah, reece really didn't help when i was still learning. remember when she convinced me to call richard a... bitch," she lowered her voice for the last word, still hating the way english cuss words felt on her tongue. "but yeah, at least i figured it out eventually."

"exactly, it was very different. i got used to it after awhile, but it was strange to meet people who didn't understand me or the way we grew up." maybe that was why she fell so hard for jessica, she was the first person to show her attention and like her, of course mickey would fall in love with her. "sometimes i wish i went to the private school like you and the others, but it was so hard for me to focus and learn in traditional schools. my teachers before woodrow all hated me."

hearing natalia's confession, mickey couldn't help but feel her heart break a little. or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. "natalia..." she said softly. "you never had to keep up with us. we were just kids and we're all different people. i know there was a lot of pressure on us growing up, but you were great in your own ways. i looked up to you when we were younger, i still do. you were always so well behaved, even if i hated how you would scold me and reece and meera. you helped my learn english when everyone else just ignored me. even now, you're working for a famous fashion designer on paris of all places. you are talented in ways i could never be." she was looking at natalia all while she was saying this and when she got to the last part, she felt her throat tighten a little and had to look away. she forced herself to take a hit of the cigarette just to push away the emotions she was feeling.

"i don't think i could ever forget the things richard taught us," she admitted, looking down at her feet. "my whole childhood... it's a lot of forgotten memories, things i don't want to remember. but richard? he was everything to me. i hope i remember everything to the day i die."

she pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, not because she was crying, but because she was worried that she might start to. flicking the cigarette away, she straightened up and turned to natalia. "ugh dieu, that got way too deep. i'm going to need another drink if we keep this up," she said with a laugh.

"It's true, I did," Natalia agreed, nodding. But she never felt worthy enough to ask Sama for her time, to bond with her in any real way. Not smart or accomplished enough. Her first couple of years at Woodrow were all about proving her worth. Natalia might not have been the smartest or the most accomplished, but she could be the most well-behaved, the best dressed, the most obedient. Brick by brick, she built her reputation at Woodrow House. By the time she felt confident enough, feeling as though she had earned her place, like she belonged there, Sama was off to college, and Natalia had grown up enough to care about things other than impressing Mrs. Tristan's favorite.

"Gosh, Reece did you so dirty that first year when you were still trying to learn English. I'm surprise you didn't try to burn her hair off in her sleep." Natalia couldn't help but let out a breathy little laugh. "But hey, you figured it out eventually." She leaned into Mickey just a little, bumping their arms briefly. Clearly oblivious to the struggle it must have been for someone so young, not only new to the house but to the language that was predominantly used in it.

If Natalia were less intoxicated, she wouldn't have answered as quickly as she did. But with the four shots (or was it five?) they had ingested, her mouth was moving before her brain could really consider the consequences. "Yes," she answered. "I mean, I know Richard had us go on all of those outings, and we were talking to a variety of people from staff to his friends, but they were all adults. It's just… different, socializing with people your age that you didn't grow up with. Especially in a school setting." She looked at Mickey, pressing her lips together in a sympathetic look. She had no idea that was something she struggled with during her first year at Kingsbury.

"It's another reason I chose to attend private school for a bit, actually. Part of me was scared of falling behind. I don't know if it's just part of growing up at Woodrow and not being as naturally gifted as some of you are, but I always felt like I had to keep improving. That there was this invisible something that I was trying to keep up with." If intelligence and accomplishments weren't going to be where she could outdo people, Natalia knew she had to pick something the others didn't care to prioritize. Whether it was her appearance or how she socialized, it was important for her to curate an image of excellence in some way, shape, or form.

Hearing Mickey admit that she had only partaken in gardening at the greenhouse to make Richard happy, Natalia felt safe sharing that, "Yeah, me too. I don't like wearing the gloves. It also smelled too much like dirt in there sometimes." While she could be meticulous and was no stranger to consistency, the whole process of gardening wasn't something she had the patience to appreciate.

"You know, I was talking to Eliza today while we were all at the greenhouse, and we talked about the things we learned in there. How some people chose to forget and some people can't. Did you ever try to forget the stuff Richard taught you there? To make space for other things or just… because you know, you weren't into gardening."

[themickey]

[themickey]

task: the talent show

the idea of doing a talent show with all of her very talented siblings was probably something mickey would have loved as a kid, but the idea of it now did not seem as fun. her talents lied in her mind, not so much in skill. she wasn't artistic or good with words or musical. she was numbers and equations, not exactly the more entertaining thing to watch.

though, she did have one talent, one she hasn't done since college. it was probably a bit unorthodox, but considering this house and the people in it, it would work.

it's been years since she put on her old fencing gear, but she hasn't grown since she was fourteen so she knew it would still fit. putting on the old uniform and shoes that have been sitting in the back of her closet for years felt weirdly nice. she hadn't even realized how much she missed it until she was sitting in the spare room with everyone else and waited for her turn to go.

when virkam finished and it was her turn, mickey grabbed a box she had brough down from her room with her and took it and her sword up to where mrs. tristian had set everything up.

"as most of you probably know, my talents were not in the arts. i was never a very creative person in that aspect." as she spoke, she opened the box and started placing her trophies and ribbons on top of the grand piano. it was mostly because she was proud of them even if she hadn't thought of it in years. but she also wanted to show that she was talented in something other than smarts. "it took me a bit to think of what to do for this until i remembered that i did have some talent growing up. as a teenager, richard always pushed me to do extracurriculars and especially to find a sport i may like to get my energy out. because of that, i took up fencing as a teenager. it started because i think the idea of having an excuse to have a sword, but then i realized how much i loved it."

once she was all set up, she gestured for [the misunderstood] to join her. "so with some help, i'm going to show you guys some basics when it comes to fencing." she had let [the misunderstood] borrow one of their practice kits so they would be protected, even if they were using practice blades.

"now, there are three types of fencing, the foil, the épée, and the sabre. when i was still competing, i did the sabre." she nodded at [the misunderstood] to put their mask on so she can begin to explain. "with sabre, you score points using both the tip of the blade," she touched the tip to [the misunderstood]'s chest. "or the side of the blade. arguably it's considered the most aggressive form of fencing but not the hardest." she whips to blade to hit [the misunderstood] in the side of the arm. "the target area for sabre is the lamé, or torso and arms, and the mask. now i've showed [the misunderstood] a few basics and rather than keep talking, i'm going to show a few moves."

putting her mask on, mickey and [the misunderstood] got into position. they show the group a few basic moves, mickey even lets [the misunderstood] get a few points in just to show them how to works before showing out to counter attack and how to block.

if she was being honest, it was actually a lot of fun. it had been years since she picked up her blade and it actually made her miss it. maybe when she goes back home, she'll find an adult league to join or something.

once they were finished, mickey and the [the misunderstood] took a bow before taking off their masks. "thanks, [the misunderstood] for your first time, you were a great opponent," she said with a smile. "so yeah, that's some of the basics. uh, thanks," she wasn't really sure how to wrap it all up, so she just gathered her things and went back to her seat for frankie to go.

[themickey]

"i don't know, food is always pretty exciting to me, as long as i get to eat it. you could always make something really fancy and let us taste test it." maybe she was thinking with her stomach even if there was still a half eaten sandwich on the plate in front of her. but mickey would never say no to some of naomi's food. "i think cooking is a great talent." one mickey wished she was better at. she could cook but nothing like naomi or pierre.

mickey smiled when naomi said she could draw constellations, but she also had a point that know would know if it was accurate. "natalie suggested i do a hard equation or something and i also pointed out that no one would know if it was right or not. not really a good show when some of the others have fun talents to show off." she wished she had stuck with music or something when she was younger but she had such a hard time focusing on learning sheet music. "i did like fencing growing up. natalia said i should bring [the misunderstood] up and let them try to take a whack at me. do you think that would be fun to watch?"

As Naomi picked at a few remaining crumbs on her plate from lunch, her mind had been swirling with Mrs. Tristan's unexpected announcement. The greenhouse, served the estate better to be cleaned so Naomi could see why she insisted on that, but this was frivolous and for them. Was Mrs. Tristan softer now that she wasn't in charge of them in the same way? Had she been such a hardass to balance out Richard's demeanor? Her thoughts were interrupted by Mickey, asking a question that Naomi struggled to have an answer for.

"No, not at all. Right now, my front-runner is cleaning up the kitchen." Naomi had managed to work her up to being able to avoid doing cleanup, letter the less experienced staff handle it, but the risk of humiliation with the alternative was too great. "It's hard to make cooking exciting to watch, I'm not exactly an Iron Chef." Though, it was the host who brought the theatrics there.

Naomi looked at Mickey as she thought about the other carefully. Mickey was incredibly talented and gifted in Naomi's eyes, brilliant in some that so few people could even begin to understand. "I understand. You are really talented, it's the making it a show on short notice that's tricky." Her mouth turned down when Naomi realized she didn't have a good suggestion for Mickey. "You could always draw the constellations, though we would be probably be taking your word for it that it's accurate."

She thought back to what Mrs. Tristan said when she pitched the idea to them, when Naomi wondered if she had a medication issue or something to explain this idea. "Is there anything you liked to do here, back in the day?"

[themickey]

"well, clearly she sees something in you that deserves to be seen. screw what those seniors think." mickey said with a laugh. "as we've established, i don't know anything abut fashion so if there was anyone in the house for fashion advice, it would be you." she was sure natalia would jump at the opportunity to give mickey a makeover if she just asked. she knew that the way she dressed probably irked her so much.

she listened as natalia explained her feelings around sama and how she felt growing up. it was strange to see a different side to things. she knew natalia probably wanted to be closer to the older wards growing up. she always got roped in with the ones closer to her age but they were not always the best wards. it was interesting to know how the others saw things.

"hmm i guess i never thought about that. you did have more time with her though. she left when i was still so new to the group, i barely spoke fluent english by the time she went to college. i guess i still see her the way i did back then when i couldn't understand anyone."

she thought back to when they were teenagers and going to school at woodrow. mickey was in the group that never tried private school. she liked the homeschooling, it was easier for her to learn and control her energy because she was being taught things she actually cared about rather than the boring things public school had to teach. "do you ever think being homeschool stunted us? i remember my first year at kingsbury was hard for me to get used to going to school with people i didn't grow up with." she didn't say it out loud, but it also made her miss everyone so much more when she went to college and they weren't all down the hall anymore.

"i think he would appreciate it," mickey said with a soft smile. "truth be told, i never really liked it growing up. it was nice to do something with richard and he taught us a lot, but i more did it because it made him happy." flowers were cool, but mickey didn't have a green thumb and didn't like all the dirty work that came with gardening.

"Most assistants don't. I did on occasion," Natalia clarified. "Geneviève thought I had an eye for things. She sort of used me as an extension of herself sometimes." Giving her responsibilities and power far beyond what a mere personal assistant should have. "The senior fashion designers hated me for a good bit because she almost always referred to me for an opinion on their designs." She chuckled at the memory. "I mean, it's fair. I haven't put in the years of work they did."

I'm pretty sure Sama hates all of us. Natalia didn't think so before, always reasoning with herself that Sama surely couldn't hate anyone she didn't know very well, but now Natalia couldn't help but agree.

"When I was younger, I used to think she was like... this legend." Sama was an older ward so she spent more time with the likes of Angus and Alison, not the rag-tag crew she had to be lumped in with because she was born far too late. A young Natalia admired Sama from afar. "Mrs. Tristan always spoke so highly of her." And Mrs. Tristan was hardly one for compliments so it meant something. During Natalia's very early years at Woodrow House, Mrs. Tristan's words were gospel to her.

"I wanted to do what she did, you know. Get through Woodrow, finish school, and do something... important." Never look back, she thought but didn't add. She shook her head. "I guess somewhere between being 11 and 15, things changed."

Woodrow wasn't just a place she was staying at anymore, it was home. The other wards she was with, they weren't just other kids who were unwanted or alone. They were more than that — something of a family. She was unfortunately attached in a way she couldn't quite undo.

"I spent my first couple of years of high school at a private school because I thought I just needed to get out of the house a bit. See what's out there, break my attachment to the house a little. But... private school was boring, boys are stupid, and the education at Woodrow was far better anyway."

A soft laugh escaped Natalia's lips. "None taken. It wasn't super important to me," she admitted. "But Angus got me on board. It makes sense. That place was always for Richard and us. Doing what we can to fix it up after we let it fall by the wayside..." Her voice trailed off. It was one last nice thing they could do for Richard, she thought but didn't say. "Maybe he'd appreciate it."