transcendencenyu

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // you make loving fun.

“Just come in.”

Right. Okay. So, it looked like Paisley was throwing them right into the deep end tonight. Not even a gentle “hey,” or “you got here safe?” — but it wasn’t like he thought she’d forgotten to ask those altogether. Those came moments later; delayed by some sort of rush he had yet to see in her. He took in her mildly frantic behavior with no issues.

“Where’s everyone else?” He asked, looking around the room as if checking for monsters. He knew one lived here, and just prayed she wasn’t around.

She felt him walk by, his feet scraping gently against the hardwood of the room. And that’s when she shut the door, the echo of it’s closure bouncing around the room and right into her chest. “Uhm, I’m not sure— but what does it matter?”

“Do I need to remind you that no one likes me here?”

“Terrie’s the only one who has a key.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of her name. He could still feel the yolk slipping through his hair, sticking in his hair, and the rage building up in his throat like bile. “And she could come back any time—“

“She won’t. Trust me.”

Peter wasn’t really sure why she seemed so confident in her answer, but he wasn’t going to push her anymore if she believed that so thoroughly. There were better things to worry about. “So, why’d you want me to come over? I thought we were going to that street carnival.”

The center of his attention, who hadn’t left her spot near the door, had found herself literally twiddling her thumbs. “Uhm, well I thought we might as well just stay in? It’s probably crazy outside with the games still in full swing.”

“Do you not want to go?”

“Honestly? Tonight — not really. I kind of just want to stay in here — with you.”

Her words were like gunshots. The last two shots punctured him like a real bullet, square in the chest and he felt his breathing falter for the two words that probably meant nothing. “Hm, right.”

She tried to continue as she moved a little closer. “You can watch a movie? I can play with your hair while you tell me what’s happening.”

“That does sound tempting, but don’t you want to do something we can’t do back in New York?”

“You want me to play with your hair back home?”

“If you’re offering?”

“I’ll always offer it to you.” She went to snake her hands around his waist, content when she could feel the cotton of his shirt in her hands. Paisley breathed in the smell of tobacco and mint from him, and she was positive that there would never be anything that made her feel calmer. “I just want to spend time with you — no stressing about anything — and enjoy one of our last nights here without worrying about something stopping us.”

“Stopping us from what?”

Paisley’s weight shifted, her head resting against his chest as she sighed. “I don’t know. We’ve never got to spend a night here — alone. Not having to worry about someone else looking at us like we’re crazy or—”

“Or like we aren’t supposed to work?”

“I was just going to say stupid, but that works too.”

He hummed, like it was a joke. She liked the way it rumbled against his chest.

He held her a little tighter. She didn’t falter.

“Paisley,” he breathed against her right side. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, bracing herself for what was next. His lips moved over her’s in the sweetest caress, and Paisley let out the breath she was holding in.

This was familiar; this was good.

This was what she had wanted.

His hands moved to cup the sides of her face and she felt the twitch of his lips turning upwards. His touch was gentle. It was always gentle. She didn’t know why she was worrying so much. Paisley’s breath jumped, and Peter held back for a second to make sure he wasn’t stepping over any boundaries. His hand felt cool on her skin. They were always so warm. A shiver went up the back of her spine. The spark felt amazing, just because there to be someone who she could be with again. She could hear his breathing, shallow and close to her ear, as he creeped closer to her, but didn’t feel any of the knots in her stomach that would normally come with someone else in a situation like this.

“Will you jump for me?” He whispered against her ear. She wanted to ask how high.

Without needing to think any farther, his hands left their places and found a new home against her thighs, now hitched against his waist. As she felt the two of them moving, his lips worked with hers once more — until they didn’t. Like a roller coaster, her stomach dropped and she felt them move against the plushness of the bed.

Paisley’s hands came up, finding their places slowly on either side of his face. The sideburns he sported tickled her skin and she was smiling into the kiss he broke a second later. His hands moved to hold himself up on either side of her head as he took her in. Peter had hold back a chuckle by how she looked. He could have looked at her like this forever. The way her skin reflected off the moonlight was almost out of some movie, and he couldn’t take it any longer as he plunged his lips on her again. His arms gave out from under him, and Paisley rolled with him as she came to lay on top of him.

She knew where this was headed.

She didn’t need to think about it.

Paisley needed to forget what this was if she wanted it to continue.

And then Peter stopped.

“Hey, are you sure?” His eyes moved to take in all of her features, and doing so provided a little insight to the mixed bag she was feeling. A hand cupped her cheek as some sort of comfort, and while she didn’t flinch, Peter could see the hunched shoulders and bitten lip. He had seen it minutes ago, even when she seemed so confident in her answers. “I’m not going to just….”

Her shoulders slacked.“You’re asking me?”

He chuckled. “Of course.” In the moment, something settled in his stomach that didn’t feel anything like the desire coursing through his veins. He passed it off as a fluke, something she’s saying to rile him up a little more, before laughing it off against the skin of her neck. “You’re sure?”

Peter could hear her breathing hitch for a few moments as she caught her breathing.

Again, something felt wrong. Like, it was a movie in slow motion and he was supposed to see something he couldn’t. Peter couldn’t see what it was though, even if he strained. So, he chalked it up to nerves.

He was going to count to five, and if she didn’t reply — then he needed to stop.

One. Two.

She started to breathe again.

Three.

“Peter—”

Four.

“—Keep going.”

“Gladly.”

———

In the quiet that afterwords brought, Paisley found herself drawing shapes on his chest from the comfort of the disheveled bed. With sheets wrapped around her legs and his, neither felt the urgency to move from their position. Besides, Peter found the motions she made comforting. She seemed to be zoned out in her own world, and he didn’t have the heart to take her away from whatever she was thinking about. Her fingers changed into slight tapping, rhythmically on his chest. When he peered down to glance at her, she still looked to be in her own world but there was somehow an invitation to be extended to him.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked before peppering the crown of her head with a kiss or two.

She giggled slightly, unprepared for the affection and her tapping faltered. “Honestly, I’m trying to piece together what you look like.”

“And what exactly does that look like?”

“Well, it’s stupid.” She sighed.  “I don’t even know if my memory of him is right.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Peter was sure he had heard far worse assumptions of his appearance before, than whatever someone who was actually into him could come up with. She wasn’t budging, though. He tried, begging a little more. “Paisley, come on.”

“Uhm, Burt Reynolds?”

The image hit him square in the chest. “I wish.” Peter’s laugh reverberated against Paisley, and she felt like she just wanted to curl up into a ball and die. She felt like she might as his arm moved to snake around her a little bit tighter, pressing her just a little closer. He sounded wistful as he added, “I’m a bit blonder than him.”

“How blonde are we talking?” She felt like she remembered him being tall, dark, and handsome when she used to watch movies with him in it. (Sunday Mornings with her mother were always time for a Burt Reynolds movie, and he’d ride in on horses with that dark hair of his). However, life and freshman psychology courses had proven just how badly she was unable to trust her old vision. She just needed to shut herself up.

Peter was gracious enough to do it for her. “‘Mora said I had sandy locks once, when she was bailing me out of jail.”

“You went to jail?”

“For a night!” He laughed and Paisley could feel the laughter heaving with his chest. Her head moved with him. “Rocket got into a fight and I tried to stop it, but that’s when the cops showed up and well — they thought I was part of it.”

“Were charges ever pressed?”

“No, the kid was just as drunk as we were; plus, he started it.” “And even if it he had, I’m pretty good friends with a law student. Matt would have taken care of me.”

“Matt sounds like a good friend — so long as it was free of charge.”

“Oh, he’s big into pro-bono.”

“Well obviously. Who doesn’t like Bono?”

His deep laugh rumbled against her cheek, which was still pressed to the chest that rose and fell quicker than normal. Paisley felt something warm blossom in her heart. The sound was absolutely gorgeous, and it was better knowing that she’d been able to do that to him with such a stupid joke. As he finally settled once more, taking that final breath and letting out a little “woo”, she still couldn’t believe she was here —  like this — and enjoying the feeling of his little chest hairs tickling her face as they laid there. She wanted to remember this forever.

The door opened from the other room, and Paisley froze. Peter could see the panic in her expression as she scrambled off the bed and hit the floor with a thud. He moved to help her up, but she was already standing up before he could get to her. “She’s not supposed to be home yet!” She whispered.

Peter was pretty sure that Terrie never told her when she was going to be back, but that seemed like a Terrie thing to do anyways.

“Will you light a candle?” Paisley was throwing on what she was pretty sure was a dress from the ground. Peter realized it was his shirt before she did. Neither said anything as she continued to move around and search for anything amiss with her hands. There was a knocked over suitcase, and she nearly tripped over what she assumed was Peter’s shoes.

From the other side of the room, the man with the shoes did as she asked; grabbing the lighter from her bedside table and moving to put his hand into the glass jar where he could find the wick. Lilac Sands was the official name, but it sure smelled nothing like what he would find on a beach. And taking a big whiff of it, he couldn’t figure out who hated themselves more, because nobody should have that sweet of a candle in their vicinity. It was probably a Terrie pick.

As footsteps drew nearer, Paisley launched herself out of the room and shut the door swiftly behind her. She went to feel her way along the wall, taking in the few deep breaths she needed to regain her composure. With twenty different reasons to make sure Terrie didn’t go into her room, Paisley could only continue to list them off before she felt a solid force bump against her.

“Woah, Pai. Are you alright?”

Steve’s familiar hands grabbed either of her shoulders, holding her in place and keeping her steady.

“Steve,” she breathed. “It’s just you.”

Something turned in the pit of his stomach; why did she sound so relieved saying that? “Yeah, it’s just me…” And he thought he told Terrie to text her that he was coming over. His mind went to taking in everything about the room — was there something amiss? Was someone here and trying to hurt her? He listened for Lucky’s bark from the other room, heard nothing, and took a deep breath. Okay. He was just being paranoid. And then he noticed her attire. “So, what exactly are you wearing?”

“Uhm,” she let her hands smooth out the fabric and feel as it ended right around her mid-thigh. “Just some sleeping clothes. What are you doing here?”

Right. He didn’t remember her having a Young Americans tour shirt. Along with her disheveled look, he didn’t know if he could chalk everything up to sleep alone. “Oh, uhm, I was just dropping a few things off that Terrie asked me to get.”

“Right.”

The room shifted, almost like the lights had gone out.

“You two still aren’t talking?”

“After she egged my—” Paisley caught herself. Or maybe the word caught itself in her throat, like it was trying to save her. “—Peter? No. Not until she apologizes for it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to have this fight with her while their vacation was ending. Could they not save this for New York? “She’s just trying to be a good friend.”

“Well, you can’t be a good friend if you egg your best friend’s—” And there she went again. Maybe it was the afterglow or something else in her brain that made her sound like an idiot. Because that’s what she would be if she had kept going.

“….So, he’s your—”

A thud came from her room like a saving grace, if it hadn’t been for what she was sure was the cause. Her heartbeat quickened, but not in any sort of good way. Paisley quickly moved to cover it. “God, Lucky probably hit something with his tail.”

“Here, let me help you clean it up.”

She shot back. “No, it’s alright.”

Steve had to settle himself, because he couldn’t believe how thick-headed she could be sometime. “It sounded like glass; I’m not going to have you hurting yourself.”

“Well it’s a good thing I won’t.” She bit back, the vile in her voice cutting at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Paisley.”

“Forget it, seriously.”

The door opened from behind her and Peter stuck his head out. “She’s got me.”

Paisley couldn’t see the gears turning in Steve’s head as he took the scene in front of him. She definitely couldn’t see the blush rising in his cheeks when he put it together and found that Peter was missing a shirt and Paisley had found one suspiciously close to his size.

“Right.”

His footsteps started to move away, but Paisley stopped him as she tried walking towards him and reaching her arm out. She just grazed his side when he turned back to her, and found that the open door behind her had shut. At least Peter could give them a little privacy.

She was rushing to say something, anything that might keep this from getting out. “Please don’t tell anyone else. You weren’t supposed to find out so fast.”

And Steve didn’t know why that statement hurt. He wanted to say it was that she didn’t trust him enough to talk about something so personal, but he wasn’t going to rush to conclusions either. “You were just going to go one without telling anyone about this?”

“Well, hearing how you reacted makes me feel good about my choice.”

“And how was I supposed to react?” He pressed a hand against his forehead in some attempt to stop the headache coming on.

“Like you were happy I was trying again.”

She heard him let out a sigh he had been holding in for a long time. “Paisley.”

“No—”

“Paisley. It’s not that I’m not happy that you’re moving on, but—”

“But it’s him,” her bitter tone shone through. She scoffed. “Of course.”

“Why not Tony? Or someone we know a little better.” He probably wouldn’t have been that happy if it was Tony either, but at least there was something a little closer. Someone who knew it all; who could tell her signs.

“I didn’t know you were trying to control me.” She fought. Paisley was crossing her hands over her chest as she felt that horrible weight starting to weigh her down. Like she was sinking into the ground. She needed to get out. “Would you have liked to have done it? You already failed me once, but here’s hoping for another chance.”

“I’m not.” He cautioned. “We’re all just worried about you.”

“That’s sweet, really. But I am an adult and can take care of myself and choose guys that I like without having to worry about them.”

“And what happens when one of you is done with this?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Then I tell him I need space.” Her voice fell an octave as she continued, “But I don’t see that happening any time soon, so stop insinuating that it will. And maybe he’ll do it, but then I’ll just have to go on.”

“Paisley, are you sure about this?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be? Do you seriously have such little faith in me? “ She broke. “It’s a relationship, Steve.” It was supposed to be a two-way streak. There was supposed to be communication and understanding, and some sense of shared interests. Was Steve the blind one? Did he not see any of it?

“I know, bu—”

“But nothing.” She sighed. “Do me a favor and get out of my romantic life. I’m begging you to just let me be. And Terrie and Bucky, too. Just do me a favor and never ask me about my romantic life again.”

“You’re being crazy,” he tried.

She felt like she was going to push him. He probably deserved a good push out of the room.“And what? Don’t you want to respect your friends wishes?”

“Of course I do; as long as they’re coming from a rational place.”

Wrong move, Rogers. Very wrong move. “What about me isn’t rational?”

“Paisley,” he cautioned. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with Peter on the other side of the wall. “You know why I’m questioning you. If it was six months ago—”

“But it’s not. It’s now, and you have to believe me when I say I’m fine.”

“I can’t.”

“Then get out.”

“You know I’m right, Pai.”

“Please, get the fuck out of here.”

“Right.”

And he didn’t say anything else as the door opened and shut, slamming closed and sending a shiver up Paisley’s spine. Why did he need to do that? Why did he need to do any of this?

Her bedroom door opened, and she could hear Peter’s careful footsteps creeping up on her. His hands came to hold her from behind. God, she would normally love it with unadulterated admiration, but suddenly everything was feeling like it was suffocating her.  

She pushed him away. “I just need a little space, Peter.”

He watched her, moving a few feet away and ending whatever cloud of bliss they had found themselves in. That feeling that had been caught in his throat for hours was suddenly thrown down, hitting him somewhere in his lungs and exploding on impact. “Right, okay.”

“He’s such a righteous—”

“He’s your friend.” Peter sounded exhausted.

Paisley didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. “Yeah, and so was Terrie. We see how logical she is.”

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // interlude.

“They hate me.”

“They don’t. So, just relax for a minute.”

Music drifted quietly throughout the still-crowded bar, and Paisley couldn’t believe they were still playing American hits. For a place when they should be celebrating other cultures, the one in charge still managed to take the reins. If there was ever a metaphor for America’s hold on the rest of the world, then this had to be it. The familiar tune, something Paisley could remember from that pop composition class her first semester, crooned softly across the room and Paisley didn’t know the last time she had felt so comfortable. (Despite the drama of the last few hours, there was a gentle safety Peter tended to exude.)

She leaned her head on his shoulder, letting Peter move her around with a lazy sort of direction as they spun around the room. As a kid, her mother had always told her to let the man take the lead. That was in between drinks of whatever liquor she could conjure up, but the sentiment wasn’t difficult to follow now, despite the ghostly stench of whiskey. As the song changed to something else, she wondered what baby Paisley would think of a blind, collegiate version of herself? Maybe she’d like the men, or maybe not. (Her tastes used to depend so much on visuals. Like that dad from Full House — he was an average looking guy, but his voice soothed her to sleep on sleepless nights.) Maybe she’d just be shocked that she’d made it this far, dancing with some guy who didn’t look to abandon her whenever it suited his needs.

“Pai?”

She hummed against his shoulders. “Hm?”

He found it ticklish. “I can’t relax.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m the one who dated the guy my best friend liked with some elaborate plan.”

He wanted to laugh at that, he really did. This whole night had become so fucked up and painful that he wasn’t sure what he could laugh at, though. “Yeah,” he sighed. “But that was awhile ago. Everyone turned out alright — Terrie’s got a relationship she likes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re in the clear.” The tail end of another Fleetwood song was drawing to a close as Human Nature took over and Michael Jackson’s wobeley tone swept over the room. She heard him add: “I’m not in the same boat.”

She wanted to sooth him more than a few encouraging words, show him that he meant a whole lot more to her than he probably thought. “You’ll be okay. If they really care, then they’ll have to like you.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They will. It’t not a question.”

[transcendencenyu]

terrie//complementary

“You’re very handsome.” We stood outside the restaurant, watching some of the others file in, some mingling outside before entering, because out here was safe. In there, we could already tell: it was a war zone. We were dressed for battle, only the finest gear to keep us protected in there, weapons drawn and ready to defend ourselves no matter what happened. My battle armor was simple, skin tight, and fit perfectly to keep in time with my body should I need to run or dodge out of the way of an attack: a short black dress, definitely one for the summer, the back mostly exposed, and the interior silken cloth covered by a harder exterior shell, a laced flowery design that pulled in the otherwise loose fabric toward my frame. Naturally, I detested dresses, but it was one that Paisley adored, one she made me buy because she “could tell” it made me look hot, although I knew she just loved the feel of it. I also rocked some sweet red converse, naturally, my boots ready to trudge through the muds of our soon-to-be bloodied arena. To anyone else, it seemed like a simple summer outfit, but Bucky and Stephen could tell it was something more, a shield against the dark forces that threatened our kingdom. I needed all the help I could get to go up against a godlike entity and the heroes around that were easily swayed by his power and charm. David, meet Goliath.

“I know,” Stephen replied shortly. “I don’t need you to tell me.”

It took a moment to pull my stare from the gates to hell, looking back to Stephen, my special weapon to ward off the most stubborn kind of ignorant asshole, and here he was, reminding me why I never complimented him. “It’s kind of the thing people do, when they want to, you know, compliment someone? It wouldn’t kill you to try it sometime,” I replied. I’d learned the best way to deal with Stephen was giving him the same amount of attitude—so long as it checked out factually—and he’d be subdued temporarily. We definitely were opposites in many regards, but we always found a way to meet in the middle. My sarcastic assholeism did the job well.

“Right. I typically don’t bother with pleasantries. They get in the way.”

A huge sigh said, “I know,” and I looked back to the Colosseum, knowing that lingering too long was a sure sign of weakness. No, we had to go in, chests out, like we were the ones in control. It was a fight to the death, and I hadn’t lost yet.

We found our seats beside Bucky and Steve, Stephen beside Tony. Honestly, I hadn’t spoken to the narcissistic dick in a while, but if anyone could put up steel defenses against this intruder, it was Tony. Even Steve seemed a little guarded today, and Bucky was ready to throw down (although this was normal for him). Bruce beside Tony—yet another person I hadn’t spoken with properly in a while—was wary as ever, concealed by his timid behavior, when really he could lash out at any given moment should things go wrong. Quickly, as the night officially began, we could tell there was a civil war brewing among the two sides of the table.

Natasha and Clint sat beside Paisley, held hostage by her new man, and our giant friend who, really, would go along with anything. I only received one look from Clint, but it was enough to remind me he was forever on Paisley’s side, pitting me against him so that I’d be opposite of my best friend. Already, they were getting distracted in music selection, but my eyes narrowed and locked on my target from the moment he spoke his first word. Straight across from me, Peter and I both knew we were entering our very own Cold War. A standoff against two assholes for Paisley’s attention and approval, and the games had already begun. You could tell he was nervous, no doubt guilty of something, just by the way he addressed the crowd, completing a rather impressive feat by meeting us all at once--his foolish and fatal mistake. He had some allies, sure, but I wouldn’t bet his team over mine any day.

I couldn’t help but lean forward, intrigued by his mannerisms, his not-so-careful phrasing of it all, calling it, us, a trial. He must have thought us judges, his executioners even, but this was much more than a hearing. No, this was a test, a skill challenge to see how much he could endure before he’d finally break and decide for himself that Paisley wasn’t worth the trouble (like any worthless man would). We were all here to find that out, to see how fast the little one would squirm. To see how the mighty fall when they see true power. Tony was especially good at this, making small, almost silent comments to Bruce and Stephen and me, making it nearly impossible to keep from giggling, or at least smiling this sly, twisted grin in Peter’s direction. Had my hatred been misdirected, I would have been the equivalent to a high school mean girl, but since I felt the bitterness was well deserved, Tony actually made the night quite pleasant, and rather straining for Quill. I knew I’d have to speak to Tony later, privately, on the matter, maybe even with drinks. If he wasn’t still a major asshole.

Then came the questions. Steve started out small—god, did it sound like an interview of some kind: “Can you please tell us about a time when you acted as a leader to accomplish a task with your girlfriend?” The whole time I was imagining him imagining Paisley naked (which was unfortunately very easy to do since I had), my nails trying to dig into the very fabric that was keeping me safe while my senses told me to relax. Sure, maybe Peter hadn’t done anything wrong yet. The only way to know was to ask, right? Unless either of them knew how to lie (totally sure that wouldn’t be the case). I could see Peter, already tense, locking eyes with Steve. As if the bastard hadn’t done enough already, he attacked Steve with his previous relationship, one I’m sure Paisley told him in confidence. I was caught off guard, trying to consider how a twisted sicko could use his supposed girlfriend’s words against her good friend, and I spit out the first thing I could think of to keep him off Steve.

“I picked those out, the glasses.” His attention shifted, fighting between Steve and me, like he was sizing the two of us up, considering which one was the weaker link, which one could go down in less hits. He hadn’t decided yet.

Bucky was brave enough to ask the million dollar question--one that would have made me laugh for hours had it not been so serious--yet Paisley’s answer meant almost nothing to me. In a room full of her closest friends, trying to impress them? She’d lie. Peter too, unless he didn’t know any better. With sex temporarily out of the way, however, conversations began to break off, and I was left staring at Peter, emotionless but challenging. He held his ground, staring back, never shifting, but his eyes expressed his discomfort--a weakness to take advantage of. In sizing me up, he’d let his barrier down just long enough for me to find an opening.

“So. Pete,” my tongue clicked as I held him down, my eyes like hands around his neck, firm yet nonlethal for the time being.

“It’s Peter, actually.”

The corners of my mouth twitched upward just barely, and I leaned back into my chair for the first time since seeing him this up close, relaxed and comfortable with the dominance I had over him. “Right. Tell me, Pete, what do you like to do for fun?”

The question, obviously trapped, was phase one in a plan listed with many phases. Of course, I would start small, working my way up to the Earth shattering bombs only if needed, wanting to leave zero casualties in his selfish war. “Okay, yeah, I’m usually looking for the next dance battle, or enjoying the last of what the universe gave us of Bowie and his sick storytelling ability.”

“Lovely. Very practical.”

“Well, when you’re trying to save the world one flash mob at a time, it’s best to come prepared.”

“Your family must be so proud,” I said, monotone in every response, while he tried his best to give me enough sass to flood the area.

“Yeah. Do you ever smile? Your face change at all, or is it just stuck like that?”

“You want me to smile?” I narrowed my eyes and gave a smirk, a gentle one, then looked away, nearly scoffing. The man who made faces at me wanted me to smile. Adorable.

Peter cranes his head back a bit, perplexed. “Okay, I see why you don’t. Damn.”

My resting bitch face came back, and I continued to delve into his brittle soul. “I’m sure you’ve told your friends all about your girlfriend. Why haven’t we met them?” Anything personal was a good place to start, although the atmosphere of chattering and clinking didn’t set the tone for any of the real questions I wanted to get to. Of course, I wasn’t a dick, I wouldn’t try and make him cry, but I did want to see him angry.

Quickly, his attention is pulled away, and my emotionless stare burns into a fiery, dark rage. Honestly, I hated few people in this world, but god did he want to be one of them. I wanted to cut him with the sharpest of words, but I just had to find the right ones. Tony had been watching Peter and me mostly, intrigued but realizing I wasn’t getting anywhere--yet. He took it upon himself to cut me off and inquire about Peter’s major, explaining another disappointment that only Peter could accomplish. An astronomy major in Missouri? Yeah, right. The only thing more pointless than a worthless major was going to college without a major. At least Paisley realized that, shooting back at me with a similar contempt I had for Pete. Peter, meanwhile, laughed everything off, sending more fire through my veins, my very own flood of fuel which worsened the flames with each word he spoke. I felt the pressure welling up inside of me, threatening to burst. Paisley pretending he was so perfect and so wonderful killed me, and I turned my head finally, tearing my eyes from Peter to sigh and growl under my breath to Stephen, “Why did we even try to come?” For once, Stephen took initiative then, seeing my struggle and speaking up.

“What do you want, Paisley? A stamp of approval?” My man slowly reached his hand from underneath the table, not to grab mine, but to touch my thigh gently with the back of his hand, to be present while I was mentally wringing Peter’s neck. I’d almost killed him in my head, too, when he interrupted that sweet, sweet imaginary visage of his bloodied smolder weakening. I could tell in an instant, that after the staring, the prodding, and the waiting, Peter was getting tired of being on the defense. He knew he’d lose if he kept taking blow after blow, so he turned himself to me, and he began to make his attack. I guess you could say he’d decided on the weaker link.

Of course, I had come prepared to fight. Nothing he could say would throw me off, nothing that I hadn’t already prepared for, and I knew this, staring him down as he charged ahead. His words cut instantly through Paisley, then Bucky, then Steve, and slowly I began to realize one small gap in my plan: I couldn’t have possibly prepared for something I didn’t know existed.

He saw my barrier exposed now, my internal struggle to flee before he could get any closer, and he took the chance to light a fuse and run. “Yeah. When you and Steve dated, she was jealous. That was the plan, right? So, they’d get together?” He disappeared with Paisley, the others were speaking, but I no longer made out words. I glanced over slowly to Steve, head still in his hands, then at Bucky who couldn’t even look back. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. My heart was pounding--I could hear thick, heavy pulses of blood thrumming against my eardrums and causing my eyes to weaken, my vision darkening. I couldn’t even process the information, only movements, my body slowly rising, then shifting, moving like a dismembered body held together with tacks and paperclips, until I was outside without really understanding why. God, did Rio look beautiful at night.

I don’t know how long I was out. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before someone finally came to check up on me, coming to rest at the same bench my broken body had slumped into. Even at night, the wind blew nothing but hot breaths of air into my face and hair, tugging at the corners of my dress with pubescent curiosity. I didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Everyone is wondering if you’ll be joining us again,” he said, his low voice melding with the wind to create a harmonious hum for me. “They thought it would be best to give you space.”

I looked over, trying to focus, my mind unwillingly blocking out sights and sounds around me as I fell somewhere deep within my mind palace. “And what do you think is best, Stephen?”

His eyes were moving around, observing the area despite being somewhere lost on his own beside me. “I’m sorry, about which problem?” Was there a hint of sarcasm there? I couldn’t tell.

“About.. About Peter. About.. this dinner. What should I do?” My eyes found him then, searching his face for an answer, his mind a chasm full of knowledge and insight that didn’t begin to cover the rather unimpressive crack in the pavement that fit mine.

“Well, for starters, I think you need to stop letting the past influence your decisions with this man. We clearly don’t know enough about him, and this isn’t exactly the best way to do it.” It was different with Stephen, something I never felt with Grant, the way his mere presence felt comforting, felt sheltered. He was rarely physical, but his near proximity was enough. It was exactly what I needed after the way Grant treated me, not having to worry about flinching or pulling away from contact, not offending Stephen for still having memories crawl back to the center of my world when I least expected them. His temper was just as bad when it got to that point, but he kept to himself, respecting my space and only letting me make moves (which he didn’t even want half the time). He was his absolute best when he was alone, just him and me, and his secret playful side that would come out on rare occasions. Nothing like Steve.

“Why give him a chance to hurt her? If he does, Clint will fucking blame it on me, and I’ll blame myself, and I’ll have failed her twice, and Paisley.. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves the right man at the right time, and him, right now? He’s not it.” Slowly, as I was speaking, I felt emotion come back to me, feeling the weight of my body, feeling exhausted and drained, feeling my body vibrate from the sheer force of the shock. I’d have to accept that Steve and Bucky and Paisley all lied to me about something so stupid, something that very well could have ruined my chances with Steve, but it wasn’t like that mattered, right? I was with Stephen. Everything worked out. It was better this way.

“We don’t know he isn’t, and we shouldn’t control her for our own selfish fears. I agree, he isn’t.. quite what I was expecting, but it’s ultimately Paisley’s decision, and as her friend, you have to honor that.” I looked back at the entrance, wondering if Pai and Peter had rejoined the group, if they even missed us. “Right now, she just needs you to support her, Terrance. Just be there for her.” He paused, seeing my hesitation, considering whether or not it was safe to say anything else, to push his luck. He’d witnessed my anger, knew it was eating away at my judgement, but mentioning it could very well make it worse. It was too unpredictable to really say. “Tell me, if you managed to be the perfect friend for Paisley, would you finally stop acting like her?”

“I don’t act like Paisley. Far from it—”

“You know she’s not who I’m referring to.” There was a palpable pause, my heart skipping a beat, my body tensing up once more from shock, like the way I locked up during horror films ( “You’ll definitely love this one, Terrie. It’s not even scary!” said the worst liar ever, AKA Bucky, AKA not my best friend anymore).

“I.. honestly don’t know,” I admitted lamely. Stephen never mentioned my past, both of us knowing he was aware of it, but him deciding to be respectful of it. It was chilling how observant he was, how he could distinguish lies from the truth like that. “Right now, I just.. I want to not fail Paisley again. I just want to see her smile and laugh again, like the real Pai we knew and loved.”

“She wants that too. This is her way of trying.” Suddenly, my eyes were clouded with tears that just seemed to appear, and I leaned over to find Stephen, resting against him. He gingerly wrapped his arm around my waist to allow me to move closer, and I took in a deep breath only to sigh and wipe my eyes. 

“What should I do? I mean, I can’t just walk back in there and pretend nothing happened, can I?”

“I believe that’s what everyone else is doing. It’s a good step one.”

I nodded once, sniffling and wiping at my eyes again, trying to quickly end the tears and let the redness fade again so we could rejoin the others. By now, my eyelashes were matted together, tangled and clumped, loose ones tearing away easily as I tried to fix them. What a wonderful life it was for me to not worry about makeup. “God, I’m a mess,” I said, letting out some amalgamation from trying to laugh and cry at the same time.

“..You look alluring. Ah, beautiful.” He gave a very slight smile, and I couldn’t help but laugh again and smile back, weak as ever but stable in my current condition thanks to Stephen. We sat in silence for one last moment, my head on his chest while I listened to the beating of his heart and wondered if mine would ever beat the same again, then together we braved the storm that was beginning again.

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // landslide brought us down.

“I can feel how tense your shoulders are. Calm down, Peter.”

The bar had a buzz around it, and Paisley wasn’t sure if that was normal on Wednesday nights or if the Olympics were causing the influx of people to chat so much. There had to be more in the building than what should have been allowed — whether it was small or a bar hall like the ones over in Brooklyn. She could blame her anxiety on the noise level; that seemed like it would slide if anyone asked.

Peter knew better. When he squeezed her hand, he did his best not cause her anxiety to get any worse. He would have pointed out that they look like a right pair, fretting over something they put themselves into. Instead, he just kept his voice as neutral as he could. “Alright.”

“I think I see Clint and a redhead…that’s Nat, right?”

“Probably.” Paisley shurgged. Natasha changed her hair so often that she was never quite sure where they were at — and it wasn’t as though Nat thought that Paisley needed that information.

“Look, Pai — when I said to have a little fun on this trip, I didn’t mean like this.” Clint joked.

He slid into his spot next from her, Nat joining his side. If anyone else had been planning on sitting there, then they would be sorely mistaken. His hand found Lucky’s head from beneath the table, a gentle pat doing well as his greeting. The dog lived up to his name, as he was supposed to, thus far in the games. Clint didn’t want to think about a game where Paisley didn’t come, Lucky next to her and watching the crowds around him.

There’s some small chat as the others slowly channel in. Paisley feels like it’s the final scene of the Sopranos (or at least how someone described it to her) with everyone funneling in and she’s just waiting for something to happen or explode or something. All she needs is a Journey song playing overhead, and she’d be good.

“They’ve got a jukebox, Nat!” Clint jokes from somewhere a little bit away. He had just gone to get some drinks, and of course he finds a fucking jukebox. “Bet they have any American hits?”

She hears Nat’s chair shuffle, and then she’s gone. A moment later, “They have “Don’t Stop Believing”! Nat, do you have any stray quarters?”

“They don’t use quarters here—“

“It’s an American jukebox. Of course you need quarters.”

“Do they have any Fleetwood?” Peter shouts from his spot. Clint peers over the selection of songs, finding the artists graced with the first letter of ‘F’.

Terrie’s just taking her seat across from Peter, and Stephen’s next to her as they settle in. He quirks an eyebrow. “They probably only have the early hits.”

“You want ‘Landslide’ or ‘The Chain’?”

Peter looks over to Stephen — who he was pretty sure was the roommate’s boyfriend. It was one of the few times he wished Paisley could see, just so she could point out everyone. he needed to remind one of her friends to put photos on allher contacts, so she had something to show others if she ever needed it. He made a note to just do them himself later. He gave the man a grin, and then turned to Clint. “Surprise me.”

The opening chords of an acoustic guitar came in, and Paisley heard Stephen mutter to Terrie. “So the archer went with the less sappy one.”

“Okay — why don’t we just get this trial underway?” Peter starts. He can barely hold himself together, and even with good music playing overhead, there’s still a sense of urgency when he speaks.

“It’s not a trial,” Steve tries to reason.

“What makes you think it’s a trial?” Terrie questions. She’s got an arm leaned on the table to support herself, and Peter can’t help but think she’s a less-appeasing version of the Most Interesting Man in the World — complete with the smug grin.

“Yeah, you aren’t guilty of anything.” Paisley adds. She’s sweet — and she’s got good intentions. But, god, if she could see the amount of stares that were pointed directly at him? Maybe inviting everyone she knew on the trip to some dinky bar wasn’t the best idea on his part.

“Yet.” Tony whispers in Bruce’s ear. He snickers a little, but is silenced by Nat giving him a look from across the table.

Paisley wants to ring out Tony’s neck. And Terrie’s. And anyone else who was giving him a hard time; she’d just have to get Peter to guide her hands to their necks. “Anyone have any questions for him? Let’s just get this over with so there’s no more weird tension.”

‘Why do you like her?” Steve starts. Always the leader, it seemed. “That should be easy, right?”

“Dude,” Peter sighed. Paisley suppressed a sudden giggle from next to him, and she was pretty sure she covered it with a cough enough for him not to notice. He heard, though, and there was just one more reason to add to the list. “She’s, uh, spunky. First time I saw her — she was wearing the coolest glasses, and I dunno? She’s just Paisley.” The question was idiotic, actually. The more he sat on it, Peter felt like he didn’t need to give a laundry-list of reasons as to why Paisley meant something to him. The venom in his tone was obvious when he shot back, “Why’d you like her?”

“Peter—”

I picked those out,” Terrie tried. “The glasses.”

“Someone either pick another question or this thing is over.” Paisley groaned.

Was everyone at the table missing something? Peter knew Paisley couldn’t see, but he sure felt like there was a shit ton wrong with everyone else — even if they didn’t know it. Why would anyone agree to this sort of trial dinner? It wasn’t as though they were her family. He had a rowdy family, and they’d act better than this bunch.  

“Have you two…?” The quiet one at the end of the table asked.

“Bucky!” The blind hissed back.

He held his hands out in defense, nearly knocking over one of Thor’s beer glasses in near him. The glass clattered against another.“I just want to know. You haven’t told us anything, and you need to get back—”

“Bucky, please.” She pleaded.

Peter squeezed her hand. “Am allowed to talk about that?”

“I’ve got it.” She could hear the grin on his face, like he was just waiting to give the answer and see her flustered. The worst part was that they hadn’t even done anything, and she was still finding blush blossoming over her cheeks like a school-girl. Too bad he had the better giggle. ”No. We haven’t.” Maybe she heard it wrong, but did someone at the table make a sad sort of response? “And it’s none of your business, anyways.”

There was a minimal amount of chatter at the table, and as Peter field another question from Terrie (which Paisley was pretty sure was bitterly about if he had any hobbies other than finding Paisley in odd circumstances), Clint leaned over to whisper in Paisley’s ear — “Does he even know?”

He was too close. She had to take a breath. “Not yet.”

“What don’t I know?” Peter butted in. Apparently, he had answered Terrie’s question, but she didn’t sound happy as she rattled something off another one.

Clint was quick to cover since Pai was busy trying to figure out what she’d missed. “That she’s head over heels for you, man.”Paisley didn’t know if that was better or worse. Either way, it was only natural for her head to fall in her hands. Could anyone else feel the anxiety starting to bubble up in her chest?

“Oh,” Peter breathed out. He was caught between two conversations and gave terrie a quick ‘one minute’ finger as he smiled down at who should have been the center of attention (even though he would have enjoyed it in better fashion). Clint was pretty sure he saw the sides of Peter’s mouth twitch upwards as his eyes found the girl between them.“Well, I do now. Good thing she already knows how much I like her.”

He turned his attention back to Terrie.

“Oh, I’m gonna vomit?” The archer gagged. “Nat, do you know if they have any doggy bags?” While the redhead fielded complaints, Tony figured it was his turn to speak up. He’d been pretty quiet for the majority of the night, and he watched as he beat Terrie to another question. God, he was worrisome about this noob as much as the next guy, but he wasn’t trying to convict the poor man of murder.

“You go to Columbia, right?”

“Yeah — for astronomy.” Peter sounded relieved to have a semi-normal question, for once. Anything to get Paisley’s roommate off the floor for a second.  

“Do you have any plans for afterwords?”

This was a trap, and he was sure of it. What the perfectly-taken-care-of-beard man meant was ‘Does your future involve the blonde, blind girl next to you?’. He wished he was better at dodging things. “Maybe move back to home to Missouri, I dunno. I’m just kind of waiting to see what happens.” That was good, right?

“Are there any astronomy jobs in Missouri?” Bruce had to ask. He was watching the door to the kitchen, where the appitizers had still yet to arrive from.

“You ever been out there? Stars are a lot easier to see with or without a telescope.”

“Sounds boring.” Terrie said.

“Oh, like you have a major.” Paisley broke. She regretted the moment her words fell out, and was about to apologize when Peter cut in.

“This is going great.” He chuckled.

“You’re not trying that hard.” Terrie shot back.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, and what am I supposed to do? Paisley’s the only one that matters here, and she’s got on to all of you more than me.”

“Guys, please.” The girl in question interjected. “You all said you’d behave.”

“I, for one, like him.” Thor butt in. He’d been pretty quiet, mainly chatting with one of the bartenders for the majority of the conversation. Although, he wasn’t quite sure how much his opinion mattered anyways.

“Thanks, man.” Peter smiled.

“He’s vaguley puny, but he and Paisley look good together.”

“Hey—”

“He’s fine, Thor.” Paisley shot him down. “I like him the way he is.”

“What do you want, Paisley? A stamp of approval?” Stephen sighed. The voice of reason in every conversation had chosen to speak up, but it wasn’t anything she wanted to hear.

“I just want you all to like him. If I keep coming feeling awkward tension because I have a romantic life, I’m gonna scream.” Which was true. She didn’t know how many more moments of silence she could come home to, or murmered thoughts that others didnt’t think she would hear. Why was it so hard for all of them to just pretend like they would let her be happy, and not hover over her? Great — they cared. That was nice. But, she was an adult and she needed to be able to do things on her own.

“Okay, fine — he’s alright.” Steve added. “Are we done?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Paisley’s voice broke, betraying her.

“Paisley,” Peter tried. He held her hand tightly, and he could hear her breathing becoming more and more uneven as the seconds passed. A walk sounded nice, maybe they could walk around the block before the food came out? Did anyone even order something good for Paisley with the appitizers?  

Speaking of the girl, he couldn’t help but hear her voice getting more frayed. He wasn’t sure if he had heard her this emotional before. Had he? “No, just tell me why you don’t like him.” She got out. From where Peter sat, he could see Lucky starting to notice her distress.

“He’s fine, Pai.” Clint tried.

“Yeah,” Tony seconded him. “He seems good—”

“No, I’m not worried about you guys. Why doesn’t anyone across from me like him?” Which — who all was that? She knew Terrie wasn’t fond of him, or Steve really. But when did the blond boy not take Terrie’s side?

“Maybe she’s jealous.” Peter finally broke. He was on fucking thin ice, but how could he not skate over it? He stared Terrie down, knowing his death wish was pretty close to happening. He could almost hear the ice starting to crack under him as he continued. “That was the plan with your last relationship, right?”

“Peter,” Paisley cautioned. Where was that doggy bag Clint had joked about?

“What is he talking about?” Bucky tried, but he wasn’t very convincing. The man wasn’t really going down this path, was he?

Steve just buried his face away.

Terrie was prepping herself to respond when Peter stopped her again. (That seemed to be talent of the night; or maybe it was a game? Who could talk before Terrie could?) “Yeah. When you and Steve dated, she was jealous. That was the plan, right? So, they’d get together?”

“You need to shut him up, Pai.” Bucky snapped.

She rose to her feet with a clatter, yanking him away. “We aren’t doing this tonight. Let’s go take a walk.”

“You can’t run away, Paisley.” Tony sighed. As though he actually knew what was really going on! Paisley scoffed, and her hands fumbled for the sturdiness Peter provided. He’d gotten up, and her hands were pushing his shoulders away from the table. Although, she had them heading for the kitchen.

He changed direction, and moved to grab her hands as he guided her towards the balmy air Rio provided. As they got out the door, she shouted, “I didn’t make this mess! She wasn’t supposed to know.”

“Oh, that’s shitty.” Bruce added from back at the table.

“She’ll be back.” Clint thought he was good at diffusing sitations, but everyone at the table looked like a bomb was about to go off. It probably was. “She left the dog.”

Outside, the quiet of an alleyway provided space to be alone and Paisley couldn;t help but slap Peter across what she hoped was his chest. It didn’t hit that much, but Peter knew he deserved it. And the (softer) hit after that — and the next one. “Why would you do that?” she almost cried.

His heart sunk into his stomach. “I’m sorry.” His mouth got the better of him, but she knew that. “I’ll go in and apologize.”

“No, they don’t need to worry about you now.” She gave up a defense and chose to lean against his chest, instead. Was it muscle memory that his came up to support her? She only jumped slightly. “We just have to deal with the wrath of Terrie.”

[transcendencenyu]

terrie//the guardian of her galaxy

The trip started out like any other: with kicking, screaming, crying--and that was just from Bucky. Two overly-crowded flights later, we were finally in Rio, and the place was overwhelmed with tourists and competitors swarming the streets and raiding all of the decent food trucks. Okay, there were like three, but they were all very busy and completely out of kibe balls. Street food vendors aside, the atmosphere was energetic, lively, and ready to kick some foreigner ass. We had never felt more united and yet divided in our lives, invigorated by the sensation of being in Rio to represent America and sharing that pure, innocent joy with other first-timers! But then the ones who had done this before would remind us that it wasn’t all fun and games--hell, Clint made sure to remind us by disappearing instantly. Training, practicing, getting ready: that man did it all. He dedicated himself those few days to his training and worked harder than I had in months with my studies. The man was a powerhouse, and definitely everyone’s hero. Sure, the man hated me and caused me constant misery, but we were here for him, and for once, we were just able to relax.

Everyone was here, or everyone I cared about, and Rio was no doubt the place to get my seduction on with Stephen. We’d had some good nights, some great nights, and I knew we just needed the right circumstance to bring our relationship to the next level. I would get that man to say he loved me. I mean, I definitely couldn’t be the one to say it first, and I don’t think I was even ready to, but wouldn’t it be something to finally hear someone say it to me, to actually have someone care like that? This summer in Rio was going to be a breeding ground for romance and passion, and I certainly didn’t waste any time getting into it.

When Steve or Bucky had Paisley occupied, I slipped away for a few hours to walk along the beachside, Stephen beside me to complain about how hot it was, how the women and men were scantily dressed, how dressing scantily was barely actually doing anything for their body temperature, and how wearing more clothing would actually protect their skin from harmful UV rays--the usual. Of course, Rio was too much of a melting pot for us Northerners, and Stephen would have to wear shorts (oh the humanity), but the man too concerned with his appearance refused to buy them with me or let me buy them (“Wouldn’t the lobster cargo shorts look amazing on you?” No, no they would not, he said, as my ability to buy anything for him was revoked indefinitely). I recruited as much help as I could, and it quickly became my obsession to get every single one of our friends to subtly recommend shorter pant wear. Natasha said she liked his legs, Bucky sported only the best snowman shorts in the middle of summer and strutted around like a warrior mid combat--we called him winter soldier for a reason--and he taught Stephen the true redeeming qualities of such diverse and fashionable trousers, and Clint just said, “Dude, you look weird in pants. It’s like a hundred degrees. That’s just not right.” While Stephen was not having any of it, I could see he was slowly cracking, and it brought me great joy to be the one breaking him.

When I wasn’t fighting Stephen over his leg fiasco, I was fighting Paisley. Of course, Peter came to Rio, and of course he was more than willing to spend his precious fucking time with his latest boo. I spent so much time scowling that Steve said my face had permanently melted into resting bitch face and stayed like that for days (okay, he didn’t say “bitch”, because he was too pure, but he meant it). Bucky said my face had cracked beneath the unforgiving sun, like old, dried mud, and I tried to send him the nastiest of glares despite him claiming my expression never changed. I’d nearly mastered tonal expression with Paisley, knowing she heard everything, and I would tell her I was excited Peter was into her (so excited), trying to play the supportive role of any best friend to a T. Well, I said “trying”. The problem was, any time I’d come back from spending time with Stephen, Paisley would be gone, because she wanted to spend time with Peter, and this took away from my time with her, and then he wouldn’t even have the balls to face me, but would rather just drop her off, make a fucking face at me, then peace out. As if his very presence wasn’t insulting enough, he genuinely excited Paisley, made her happy and comfortable, made her forget how dangerous it is to trust men, and that was something I could never forgive him for. I worked my ass off trying to protect her since the day I failed her, I kept my eyes on her, kept the boys at bay to watch her, woke up at night to make sure she was safe in her room, and I could tell my protectiveness was starting to get out of hand the more Peter showed up. He was the antithesis of safe, with his stupid jacket, his stupid car, his stupid charm and humor. He was nothing, and Paisley was just too blind to see that.

“Maybe we should give her a tracker,” is exactly what any normal person would have said in my situation, as I did, late one night after her previous date with him. She had apparently had such a good night that the fun was going to continue--at a dinner party, with all of her closest friends--and of course he would be there! That was fine, because she was happy, and it would surely be a great fucking fantastic night.

The boys stared for a while. Actually, it was a slow, dramatic turn, as if they’d clearly heard someone break in, and they weren’t quite sure if they should run and hide or face the intruder head on, and their eyes met one another before they ever reached mine. Their body language said it all in an instant, something like, “she’s finally lost it.. I’ll hold her down; you call the cops.”

Steve, naturally, was the bravest one and first to speak, and he spoke carefully, calmly, hoping he’d simply misunderstood: “What do you mean?”

“It’s the 21st century, almost everyone is tracking someone anyway. Why not just.. You know, track her phone? See where she is? Where he’s taking her? Get alerts any time she leaves this place? She’s blind; it’s not like it’d be hard to hide.” I tried to be rather nonchalant about invading one’s privacy, and I wasn’t exactly in the wrong. It wasn’t like I was suggesting surveillance cameras to track her every movement, or bugging her phone to hear every word that creep was whispering seductively to her. I just wanted to be able to sleep at night knowing she was okay.

Since Steve had already gone, it was Bucky’s turn to try something. He seemed a little more sympathetic, being a bit of an extremist himself, and he leaned forward to me, bending down enough so that our eyes were level. “Terrie..” He tried not to break eye contact, but he could dissect me in a second and see what was really going on. “You can’t take this away from her. She can make her own decisions. Besides, this is a good thing, isn’t it? She’s moving on. You should too.”

The cracked mask of a wreck I was crumbled back into place as I stared past both of them toward her room. “You don’t move on from something like that. Ever.” I had hoped the boys would understand, knowing they played a part in this. All of us let it happen, all of us were responsible, and yet it was just me carrying that responsibility and burden.

“She can move on from anything, and will,” Steve said. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for. But right now, she really needs her friend, and pushing her away isn’t going to help her situation.”

“I’m not pushing her away. I’m pushing him away,” I said defensively, looking back to glare at Steve--something I rarely did--and the way he saw the anger and hatred in my face did something to him that I couldn’t begin to describe. It was chilling, like the look he’d given the bully he stood up to for me (yeah, I remembered), and he couldn’t bear to look at me after that, instead standing and looking to Bucky to resolve my issues.

“I know you’ll make the right decision,” Steve said, making it hard to determine if he was speaking to me or Bucky, his eyes trained on him, but his hand giving a small wave in my direction before he himself retired for the night.

Bucky was still worried, having known more about the situation than Steve, and he’d spoken to me about it once before. With Steve gone, he looked to me again, leaning forward, eyes focused, eyebrows tensed, narrowed in on my face, the way he did when he thought for a solution to save the universe, or at least save his friends. “Alright, out with it. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

I’d learned quickly there was nothing to say to Bucky that could throw him off, not even a really good lie, when he was this centered on one moment. He cared so much about me, and I had appreciated it greatly, although I failed often to show it, and he knew more about me than Paisley did since the incident. “Yeah, it doesn’t look like nothing.”

It was hard to speak, feeling the humid air like a thick blanket wrapping itself around my body, my neck and back pulsing from the hot flashes I occasionally experienced. Each moment I thought of Peter, my head began pounding harder and harder, my body became more damp, and my blood pressure would raise. Bucky was patient, watching my silent screams from within, but he’d been patient with me for months now, and he was beginning to grow restless like the rest of us. “It wasn’t him, you know.”

“I don’t care if it wasn’t,” I shot back quickly. A quick glance in the direction of Paisley’s room, and I remembered to keep my voice lowered. She’d never say anything if she heard one of our arguments, but I knew she was sharp, perceptive, and would catch just about anything she was awake for. “It was someone, and we still don’t know who, and the police gave up the search, and I’m sick and tired of pretending it never happened. It fucking happened, Bucky.”

“Okay, okay. Look, no one is pretending it didn’t happen, okay? We’re just.. Trying to move past it. Start over.”

“I swear to God, if one more person says something about moving on, I’m going to shoot myself, and then I’m going to shoot them.” I was perched on the couch, balancing on the tips of my feet, squatted yet ready to pounce, and I’d only recently started doing this when our conversations would get heated like this, both amusing and worrying Bucky.

He put his hands out, trying to calm me, while also trying not to laugh at me. “Okay, well, shouldn’t you shoot them before you shoot yourself?”

Another glance, another crack in my foundation. “Alright, fine,” Bucky said. “I get it, really, and I know you said you wanted to deal with this alone, but I really think you need to talk to someone, you know? Someone who could help you cope--”

“I am not depressed.”

“I didn’t say you were. I just think.. It was a traumatic experience for all of us, Terrie..”

Just as quickly as he said the words, I could feel hot, thick tears pool in my eyes, the kind that left them stinging for hours, and I looked away to keep Bucky from noticing. “I wasn’t the one who was raped, Buck. Paisley was. She should be the one who needs therapy.”

Without any other option, he rubbed the back of his neck and stood, a bit more defeated than before. “Yeah,” he whispered, and he left it at that, retreating for the night.

Alone again, I glanced over at Paisley’s room, feeling the tears finally let go, and I curled up on the couch to cry and stay awake as long as I could, guarding her like heroes do.

[transcendencenyu]

so, here’s a sneak peak for the next chapter in the form of a seating chart. :D

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // quand je vous aimerai?

The funny thing about being in Rio on vacation, or being on vacation in general, was that people adored the landscapes — but had a terrible time describing them. That should be a seeing person’s skill — their sense of imagery should have been developed way before middle school English. How difficult should it be to describe a sunset so someone who could see until they were nine? While everyone was busy doing their own thing on the trip, Paisley had found that no one left could do the scenery justice. While they spoke with awe in their tone — their lackluster words left her unimpressed and choosing instead to find some joy in the sand beneath her finger tips.

As much as she wanted Peter to be different — his talents didn’t lie in descriptors. He was a fantastic story-teller. She could give him that. Yet, like anyone else, he had his weaknesses because she would much rather him explain something that Drax did two weeks ago than try to tell her about the “uh, like, dreamsicle orange” sunset playing out in front of them. He preferred the former, too.

The past couple of days had been full of memories — the sound of Clint’s cheers as he qualified for the finals; the smell of Peter’s cologne mixing with greenery as he walked her through Jardim Botânico; being able to feel Terrie’s eyerolls as Paisley talked about her latest date with Peter. If that’s how the last week had treated her, then what would the rest of the vacation do for her?

Another night, another chance for Peter to snatch her away from her friends. At first, she had been hesitant to leave any of them alone for too long, feeling the guilt settling in when she promised she would see them later in the evening. “You know,” she would say, “We’ll go do something tomorrow.”

She’d disappear out the door with Peter,  reminding herself she was allowed to be selfish. Sure, they only had two more weeks in Rio before the real world would officially take over, and Paisley would be back in New York with school work piling up around her. She could already smell the dusty pages and the concert hall — it’s stale smell overtaking her. If she didn’t focus on Peter’s hand in her own, she was pretty sure she’d transport there. It wasn’t something she wanted to even focus on. There were more important things, like Clint’s upcoming matches and whatever Peter had planned for the night.

Thankfully, he seemed prepared. “You’re a music major, right?”

“Yeah,” she smiled as he tugged her a little closer. A woosh of air came from her other side before Peter spoke a small ‘sorry’ close to her ear. It had been some tourist in a rush, and her date was pretty good about not getting her run over when there was no sight dog around. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no particular reason.”

“Wait, what’s your major?”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to say anything. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what she’d think. When his friends first heard, they’d all laughed. Peter Quill — the astronomer? “Why don’t you guess?” he tried.

“Oh, uhm — mechanics? Is that even a major? Engineering?” Paisley was full of it tonight, and he could almost hear how playful she had been in recent days. Whether it be from the fact she felt a little more comfortable with him, or just the fact she was in a different place — he wasn’t sure. He liked like this, though.

Not to say he didn’t like the quieter and more reserved Paisley, either.

“Not quite,”

She walked quietly for a moment; Peter swore he could hear the cracks moving in her head. “It’s science, right?”

“Yeah.”

She hummed an inquisitive sound, Peter was pretty sure. “It’s not like animal sciences, right? You’ve got that thing for raccoons—”

He sighed. How many times would he have to explain himself to everyone who thought he was crazy? “They’re cocky, Paisley. They think they own—”

“So, it’s not animal science…” She giggled.  

He didn’t know if his heart swelled or if it was a little heart burn from those street tacos earlier. “No, it’s not. You have any more guesses?”

“Not really. You’ll tell me, right?”

“Astronomy.”

He waited for some sort of reaction from her, like he’d pulled the top from one of those grenades Yon sold sometimes. He could even feel his shoulders tense up a little, waiting for her to do something. Instead, she didn’t say anything. In fact, she stopped moving all together and nearly tripped over the both of them. When he got them to a little pocket of space apart from the crowds, she finally replied with a snicker. “Is that why you have that silly nickname?”

“Star Lord isn’t silly. It’s cool.”

“Says you.”

“Oh, like Pai is any better.”

She swatted in his direction, but was pretty sure she only hit air. Peter watched her hand move right past his nose and towards his shoulder — which is also missed. “Nobody has the time to say my full name. You have a better one?”

“I dunno — maybe Parsley?”

“It’s the same amount of syllables?”

“Chimichurri.”

“Okay, so you’re hungry.”

He stopped them for a moment, waiting for the crossing light to let them pass. It gave him a chance to just admire the look of contentedness on her face. He didn’t think he was that sappy of a person, but that smile of hers sure was something to see. “You’re spicy. It’s spicy. I think it’s good.”

“Okay, sure. But it’s like an extra syllable. It’s not exactly a nickname.”

“You know what? Why call you anything other than Paisley? It’s a gorgeous name. Fits the person.”

Oh, there was definitely blush starting to spread over her cheeks — she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. Peter saw her duck her head from the corner of his eye as they walked to the other side of the street. He did his best not to notice her “subtlety” changing the subject, or at least not showcase his knowledge of it. “So, what are we doing tonight?” She tried.

“It’s a surprise, you know that.” He chided.

Paisley let out a groan. Seriously? “Everything is a surprise to me; can’t I just know?”

“You’ll figure it out, soon.” He reassured her. Knowing just how smart she was, he thought she would figure it out within moments of their arrival. “I thought your fancy dress would be enough of a hint. Oh, have I told you how good you look?”

“Give your thanks to an unwilling Terrie.” She sighed.

Sometimes, Paisley was sure that Terrie actually hated Peter. There never seemed to be any admiration shown in their few interactions (limited to the occasional and brief ‘hellos’ as Peter dropped her off like she was still in high school. Actually no, even then, there wasn’t really anyone to care about her, really.) If Paisley didn’t know any better, she’d just say that Terrie thought he was average — which he was far from. However, knowing that the issue lied in something a lot deeper and more complicated, she didn’t like to push the envelope. “I wasn’t even sure if she was willing enough to dress me like a cow.”

“Well, she likes you enough to be honest in her job. Plus, even if she did — you’d look great in spots.” There was that blush again. He hated to see it gone, but he had to ask: “She hates me, right?”

The building was coming up ahead, with just one cross walk left to go. As the light switched green, Paisley sighed. “I don’t think so. She’s just a little over-protective. The guys are the same way.”

They made it to the other side of the road when Peter added, “One of which you dated—”

“It’s a long story.” Paisley groaned. She felt Peter stop, and she quickly followed his move. “Trust me, there’s no need to be jealous of him.”

“I know you haven’t seen him, Paisley, but there’s everything to be jealous of. No wonder every girl fawns over him. And he went for the blind one?” He let go of her hand, instead holding out for her whole arm to hold onto. “We’ve got to go up a shit ton of stairs before there’s a ramp, okay?”

Her small hands grabbed on to his arm, and they slowly started moving up the hundred or so they had to get up. He was so glad he made them leave early. Why wasn’t this place smart enough to make a ramp or something? So caught up in his thoughts and worries, he almost didn’t hear Paisley.

“Blind one went after him, actually.” She corrected Peter’s statement with a small grin. He knew the basics of the story, there was no point in trying to twist it, now was there? Nevertheless, she added again. “With help from his best friend.”

They had a pretty good pattern going. Only about 85 stairs left to go — and half an hour to get to their seats. Peter knew they were getting to a little bit of a break in their climb and made sure to tell her before asking,“And then your roommate started liking him?”

She didn’t say anything until they made it to the end of the first staircase before she sighed. Maybe he didn’t know everything.“Actually—”

“Paisley!” he chided.

“I told you, it’s complicated.”

“It’s stone cold.” He tried. “Alright, ready to go? We’re like a third of the way there.” She nodded, and they started once more.

“It’s not that cold — we did it to try and get them together. Buck and I thought that if Terrie saw me and Steve together…I dunno, it would spur her on?” She knew it sounded crazy, but it was such a good idea when her and Bucky first thought of it. Or so they thought. The longer it went on, she realized just how bad the whole thing had been. When Steve found out? That was the nail in her coffin; she just hoped Terrie would never find out.

“Did it?”

A humorless laugh left her when they made it to the second stopping point. As another staircase ended, and they took one more break, she asked, “Do they look together to you?”

Huh. Alright. Peter couldn’t believe it though. “Well, I know you can’t see it — but when I’m dropping you off, I swear he’s giving her heart eyes from behind her.”

“Does he?”

“She’s got a boyfriend right?” As they started the third and final staircase, Peter hesitated to continue. It wasn’t his place to intrude on that sort of thing, and he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be in a place to intrude. Maybe when he was good enough, they’d already be together.

“Yeah.” Paisley thought of Stephen —the polar opposite of Steve. “Steve’s a good guy, though. He just knows not to intrude.”

“I guess so. Mr. All American is the kind boy next door type, right?” It wasn’t hard to see it in the athlete, who could be a character in some Norman Rockwell painting if he wanted to. His rosy cheeks were something every girl probably drooled over. Except Paisley.

Paisley hummed a response as they rounded out the final staircase and made their way inside the building. Past the large, white columns, the couple entered wide doors that seemed to invite them within the hallowed halls. A line of people were waiting towards the door to the auditorium, and Peter took a second to dig his tickets out of his pocket.

“So, when do I get to meet them? Like really?” Peter asked as they moved quietly in line.

She was funny when she didn’t expect it, because he could practically see the gears working in her mind to come up with an answer on the fly. Instead, she nearly blurted out, “Do you want to?”

“Consider it a family dinner? Maybe even just drinks?” He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to step inside one of the nights he had dropped her off and sit down for a chat. He always got the better of himself though, and chose to let her go for the evening. There was always when they got back to New York, right?

“I mean, I’m sure they’d like to get to know you a little better.”

He was pleased with the answer as they made their way to the front of the line, the lady going to look at their tickets before the ripped the perforated edge and handed them back. When he started guiding her down the aisle, he prodded. “So, tomorrow night?”

She could hear the chatter of others around her, starting to feel slightly annoyed with the fact she still couldn’t figure out where they were. “Well, Clint will be getting out of quater-finals. Maybe the day after?”

“That’d be fine. And you’d be okay with it?”

He looked between the ticket and the aisle number, pausing them for a moment. God, they were great seats if he could just navigate them through the row and through all the people who probably were pissed that the two people who needed to be in the middle were the last to arrive.

While he waited for some of those in the row to stand, Paisley voiced,“Why wouldn’t I want them to meet you?”

Peter smiled. His hand started to move them through, careful not to disturb anyone who was probably already a little pissy. Sorry, lady. It’s a little more difficult to navigate a blind girl than you’d think. As they arrived to their seats and they settled in, Peter flickered through the program while he heard the orchestra begin to warm up.

He knew Paisley heard it too, because she instantly straightened up. “Did you take me to a concert?”

“Ballet actually.” He smiled, just seeing her light up at the music. “I need something to watch. I hope that’s alright?”

“What is it?”

“Uh…Carmen, I think?”

“It’s Bizet, right?” She knew the composer — the show was one she had to listen to intensely during freshman’s Comp History. Although, she could have sworn it was an opera. As Peter scanned the program, he found she was right.

“Yeah, how’d you know?“

She was getting ready to reply when the audience quieted, and the orchestra paused. “I’ll tell you later?” She tried, and Peter squeezed her hand as a sort of approval. At least he didn’t nod this time. Not that she would have noticed the embarrassment anyways. The lights dimmed. Paisley heard the music start. She tried not to smile too much.

“Alright,” he sighed as they got to the door. After the show had finished and Peter had bought Paisley the little music box they offered in the gift shop — situated in her bag — they’d headed back. After they got food. Standing outside, he had to make sure their plan would work. “So, you’ll tell them tonight?”

Paisley fiddled with the fringe her bag provided.“Yeah, when Steve and Bucky come over later. Are you sure about this?” She had to ask. As much as she wanted to show him off to everyone (even if just to say, “look who can bounce back!”) Paisley knew that there was a good equation to equal hesitation.

“Of course. Are you?”

“I guess.” She sighed.

Peter could see the apprehension, but he did his past to move past it. There had to be reasons other than just not wanting Peter to meet them. “You can call afterwords, if you want.”

She smiled. “If you’d like.”

“I’d always like it from you.” Third time was the charm, because he saw her blush yet more. It was almost like a game to see how many times the crimson would spread over her cheeks and make him wonder if he was really skilled or if she was just not used to dating.

His hands moved to place themselves squarely at the bottom of her spine. Paisley felt her stomach lurch at the movement, and she had to stop herself from taking a step back in a sort of defense. If she could; peter had a pretty good grip on her. She had to breathe for a second and remind herself everything was alright.

Because, it was Peter, after all. He was better than alright. Had the last weeks not proven it, the kisses from dates previously? The kindness to pick up on her little fidgets, or slow down and compliment her on things other than her looks? She adored him talking about the quality of the fabric on her clothes, or just how smooth her hands were as they locked fingers. He was good. She would be fine.

She was fine, because the moment his lips found hers, everything seemed to melt away. She felt so silly, like she was in some fairytale, but when they parted — she couldn’t help but feel as though it wasn’t enough time. From Peter’s place, he knocked on the door behind her and let them part. “Thanks for tonight.” She rested her head against his shoulder as they spun slightly — just so Paisley wouldn’t be in the way when someone opened the door.

“It was mine.” Did he sound chivalrous enough? “You had fun, right?”

“Oh, plenty.”

The door swung open, and Peter wondered if Terrie even did anything on this trip or just waited for Paisley to come home like a worried mother. “Alright, I’ll talk to you later.” His hand slipped out of hers, leaving Peter to watch as she slipped inside. For just a moment, Terrie turned back towards him.

He made a funny face to see if she’d smile.

She nearly slammed the door.

As the door shut behind her, and Paisley had to keep herself from smiling too much, she could hear Terrie moving away from the door. “Hey, what are you doing the night after tomorrow?”

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // blunders

Paisley was ecstatic. She made Clint take her back to the hotel room as quickly as he could, and when she got there — she nearly called out for Terrie. Clint got to it first. “Hey, you’ll never guess which blind chick landed herself a date tonight.”

He said it like he was egging Terrie on. if Paisley had known exactly what direction he was in, she would have elbowed his stomach. Instead, she put on a smile and nodded. “Would you be willing to help me out with what to wear?” She said it as if there was no other road to take, and the only option was to help the young blind girl in the room. If Terrie didn’t oblige, she would be a horrible friend. At least, that would be how it looked in front of Clint. (And Terrie couldn’t go making herself look any worse in his eyes).

When the initial revelation had washed away, Clint looked between the two girls and let himself out. He wished Paisley a swift goodbye, good luck on her date, and shouted as he let the door shut, “We’ll talk about how it went tomorrow.”

The huge clicked, and silence resumed it’s reign over the room. Other than Lucky’s faint panting and Paisley’s toe-tapping, there wasn’t much noise in the room. “So, you’ll help me with the outfit, right?”

Paisley hadn’t felt so pretty since before her incident, back when she was of her own free will. After getting out of the hospital, it felt like shackles had been placed on her hands, tying her to a sentence she wouldn’t be getting out of for an eternity. Tonight, however, with the silk of her dress beneath her fingertips, maybe she had been granted a pardon.

Her thumb hooked onto the small bag she had been toting around the whole trip, throwing it over her shoulder and letting the leather thing swing back and forth, near her hips. As she paced a worn pattern near the door, Lucky sat close by, with watchful eyes and a knowing sense of her unease. As she brushed past his fur on one of her back-and-forth movements, Paisley was reminded of the constant sense of security — and how he might be an issue in the night to come. “Oh, Lucky.” Paisley breathed out, pausing near him. “I think you deserve a little break with Terrie. Maybe go get a doggy cone?”

He could sense the abandonment, the change in the room. Paisley could hear his whimpers. Neither seemed very happy with the idea, but the larger of the two knew it was the only way to make this whole night work.

Terrie poked her head out from the other room. “So, who are you going out with?” The question was a little hesitant, but Paisley chose to ignore that.

“Peter,” she smiled. Bending down and sticking her hand out to find Lucky, Paisley gave him a few good pets. She had hoped the bomb that went off wasn’t too massive, and that it had left Terrie in one piece. She chose to try and move on. It always seemed like the best solution with her roommate. “Do you want to give him a talk or can we leave him unscarred for the night?”

“He’s going to get the talk.”

Paisley shouldn’t have second-guessed herself or left any hope for her date to come out of this war without a few scrapes and bruises.

There was a knock on the front door, alerting everyone in the room that her suitor had arrived. Two thirds of the presences in the room went on alert, and the other third rushed towards the door with her heart racing unbearably fast. As her fingers fumbled to find the door knob, she could only imagine how Peter must be feeling from the other side of the door. When she finally managed to grab ahold of the knob and twist it open, Paisley was met with a whiff of cologne that had never smelt so nice before.

His name fell out of her mouth like a dream.

When he replied, he sounded close. “You look gorgeous, Paisley.”The comment came with a fair share of awe, and from the kitchen a few feet away, Terrie nearly rolled her eyes.

“Pretty boy,” she chimed in. “Why don’t we talk for a little bit, and let Paisley pretend she needs to powder her nose?”

As soon as the couple left the small studio Paisley and Terrie had called their temporary home for over a week, something washed over the pair. Peter didn’t hesitate to grab her hand once more, and she barely hesitated to keep it for longer than a minute or two. Neither chose to spoke, whether it be out of nervousness or tranquility for their situation. Peter ushered her towards the elevator without words, and she let him. Even in the small box transporting them downstairs, they could have been feet apart but chose to stay within an arm’s reach. Their hands, practically welded together, rested on the support bar of the elevator. Peter had his eyes on her, never taking them off, and taking in the vision he had wound up with for the night. He had never noticed the freckles on her bare shoulders, or how the skin over her pale collarbone seemed to shine in the light — regardless of it’s florescence.

When the elevator dinged, signaling their exit, she let him guide her towards the front door. Finally, after minutes of mute behavior, she chose to ask, “So, what exactly is your plan?”

He looked down at her, noting how her shaded glasses seemed to droop down her nose slightly, before replying. “I thought we could go to the National Art Museum, and the—”

“Peter.”

He glanced down at her, wondering why she sounded so amused. “What?”

“Your plan sounds ultra romantic, but I don’t know how well I would do at an art museum. I can’t really touch it.” She leaned in towards his shocked frame, smiling. “I don’t think we should be doing anything illegal on our first date.”

He was quick to recover; Peter didn’t want to seem like he had seriously considered such a thing. “I’m joking!” He was quick to ‘explain’. “Actually, we were gonna go to dinner first, and then head towards our next surprise activity.”

How the hell had he let such a monumental fact slip past his mind? The travel guy had made the night all sound perfect, but in practice everything sucked. He should have thought a little more about this certain senario. Paisley, obviously, wanted like any other girl he had been around or dated. (And he had dated a lot of them.) The normal wooing measures wouldn’t work on her.

Paisley did her best not to crack up laughing, and gave him the benefit of the doubt. “All right,” she nudged Peter, giving him a gentle squeeze of the hand. “Why don’t we go get something to eat, then?”

“Just wait until you see where we’re eating.”

“Wish I could.”

He bit his tongue, and chose not to say anything until they walked to their destination. The small restaurant, nestled between two large buildings, was packed for the night. There was a line wrapped around the block for walk-up seating, but Peter breezed past all of that to where reservations could check in. His grip on Paisley tightened momentarily, just like it had in various moments during the night when he wanted to make sure she would be safe with him. If he didn’t live up to Terrie’s expectations, it wouldn’t be Paisley who was in pain and scared.

“Quill.”

The hostess looked up to him, brown eyes meeting his own blue. She went to look over the names on the list, and then looked back up to him. A thick accent rounded out her words when she explained, “Sir, no name on the list.”

Paisley heard Peter mutter “you’re kidding” under his breath. She didn’t let him try and fight the hostess, instead nudging him to keep moving. He looked down at her with utter bewilderment, but she had the luck of not seeing his face while they kept moving past the place.

“I swear,” he scoffed. “This whole night was planned out, to the tee.”

“I believe you,” she replied.

He peered at her, wondering how she could be so calm while he freaked out so much. She wondered that herself, actually. Paisley was normally so fearful of how a night like this would work out, even with people she knew. If Stephen had attempted to get her out for the night, she would still be waiting for something to go wrong. Somehow, everything had gone wrong tonight and she couldn’t be more content.

“You’re hungry, right?” She asked, pausing. He was jolted momentarily, pausing with her to stare down her small frame — brows furrowed.

“Yeah…”

“Then choose somewhere. I’m not a picky eater, I swear.”

When she smiled up at him, he could sense her serenity. It radiated from her like he hadn’t witnessed before. “Sounds good,” he smiled back, regardless of whether not she knew.

They ended up sitting on a bench by the beach, tacos carefully balanced in their hands while they remained quiet. One dared not to talk, while the other thought talking would only result in laughter. Peter kept racking his brain, doing his best to decipher how he had managed to let this night slip through his fingers so easily, while Paisley was trying not to scarf her dinner down too fast.

The waves crashed down in front of them, washing away sand only to bring it back a few moments later. Peter watched as people continued to walk across the sand, whether it be with groups or alone. There were a couple of familiar faces, some of which were women he had met nights previously at bars in the city. It actually amazed him how quickly one girl (a blind one at that) had popped into this trip and managed to make all of them seem pointless. He knew, most likely, that she would disappear again and he would resume his normal ways. Peter just hoped that didn’t come soon.

“You know,” Paisley started with a mouth full of food, “you are normally a man of so many words, but you’ve barely spoke tonight.” She took a second to swallow, following up with a sip of water, before continuing. “I’m blind. Not deaf. So, can you please just be your charming self?”

He laughed. “You think I’m charming?”

She blushed. “Of course I do.”

Peter stood up, throwing the rest of his two-dollar meal into the trash. He could see the red over her cheeks, even if they were shaded by the large glasses she was wearing. “Did you pack those in advance? Your glasses?”

She swung her feet back and forth. “Actually, Terrie and I went shopping today so we could find something vintage.”

He took a step closer, slipping their hands together and helping her stand up. “Why vintage?”

“Cause that’s your taste in music. That night you drove me to Steve’s house, all you listened to were old rock songs. Like, old rock.”

“You remembered that?” Peter was in disbelief. He could barely remember the show they had met at, waiting in line. He was only there to try and impress some other girl, so meeting Paisley had never been his intention. But her Bowie glasses left an impression in his mind. “Why would you rememberer that?”

“Because I don’t really have your looks to remember. So, I have to put you together through other things.”

He was at a loss for words. So, he chose to act instead. The whole thing felt romantic, swooping her up in his arms and gently pressing their lips together. It would have been more romantic if she had gone along with it. Except, he found no reaction from the girl that had just left him blindsided.

She didn’t know what to do. Every fiber in Paisley wanted to kiss him back, like euphoria was only a few movements away. The complete shock stopped her. Bad memories flashed through her brain, and she had to push away. Her feet, which had been lifted a few inches off the ground, were firmly planted back on solid soil, moved her back a few steps.

“We should probably head back,” Peter sighed, curtly.

Paisley fumbled for the right thing to say, but found nothing. The only thing that saved her from complete ruin was his ginger hold on her hand. She wanted to explain everything to him, but found herself preoccupied with trying to even her heartbeat and breathing. Now, she felt like Peter had earlier, except their was no one to calm her nerves and tell her this night hadn't turned into a complete disaster.

How would Terrie react to a miserable blind girl? One who sulked around for days to come, and didn’t want to even be reminded of the date she had been so excited for?

Peter hailed them a cab, gave the driver the address, and sat back in his seat. The couple of them didn’t talk. Peter watched Paisley, and she sat with her head turned away from him. Maybe she didn’t like him like that — or that much. He was normally so good at reading signs, so why was she so difficult? Was he as blind as she was?

Paisley had to make this better. She had to make this better immediately. Her mind raced with different ways to apologize, but none seemed to want to make sense if they were to be spoken aloud. Her time was running out, fast. The car jolted to a stop, and Peter helped her out. How the hell were they back already? Why the fuck did Terrie feel like a curfew was necessary?

As they moved back into the elevator, Paisley was ready to start to talking. She had something cobbled together, but she heard other voices join her and Peter inside. He was a couple of feet away, but not nearly as close as he had been before. And these damn people laughing it up on the other side, who reeked of cheap tequila and sweat, weren’t making this situation any better.

When the bell dinged for Paisley’s floor, Peter ushered them both out of the small box and let the others inside continue with whatever fun they were having. It was more than he was. More than Paisley was.

He started to talk them towards her door, but she stopped them. “I’m sorry,” she jumped. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Peter looked down at his hand, which she had pulled away from. She stood a few feet away, possibly the farthest she had been all night. “It’s alright; I was reading the wrong signs.”

She shook her head, trying to move close to him. She was moving a few inches too far to his left, but she wouldn’t tell him that. “You weren’t.” Paisley fumbled for him, finding his shoulders and grabbing on tight. She had such dainty fingers, he noticed. “You were getting them right. I’m just—I get jumpy.”

“Oh?” He looked down at her, closer than she had been a second ago. Even with her looking straight ahead, that being his chest, there was something so determined about her in the moment.

“I like you, Peter. A lot.”

He didn’t really know how to reply. She didn’t really know how to continue, except with a request. “Will you kiss me now, please?”

He didn’t need to be asked again. Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up as slowly as he could. He paused, watching as hesitated. He could feel her breath fanning out across his cheek, and he didn’t know how to continue as he was scared for the same thing to happen as last time. But Paisley did it for him, suddenly pressing her lips to his.

He wanted it to be like fireworks after all the damn work they had put in tonight — but it was awkward. She was hesitant; he was ready to give her a fire. But, there was something there that he couldn’t ignore. She broke away for a second, only to dive in with vigor he hadn’t felt before. This felt better. This was more like the fireworks he had hoped for.

She broke away again, going to rest her forehead against his before giggling. “I might need a little practice.”

“Maybe we should do that on our second date?”

The door opened in front of them, and Peter could see more than one head inside. He grinned as he looked down at Paisley. She had a glow to her that hadn’t been there before, and he wasn’t sure how much more breathtaking she could be. “I think you have a couple of friends inside.”

He let her down on her feet, and he walked her to the door. There was a whole group inside, and he knew this probably wasn’t his place. “See you soon?”

“Of course,” Paisley replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek as some sort of promise. “We can start where we left off.”

[transcendencenyu]

terrie // those fucking brits

My only solace, I had found, was alcohol. I'd found a small bar close by, where all of the antisocial kids watching the highlights of the Olympics went to drink and silently cheer for their country as they tried to catch up on what they missed at work. The majority, of course, were rooting for America, but a fourth of the crowd were scattered between other various countries, most of them drinking a lot more frequently. I was torn between watching and drinking my miseries and failures down until I couldn't remember anymore, but it has dawned on me that I could easily do both, so I began my hazardous descent into a line of shots. It was funny, thinking about how much I’d fucked up with everyone. I’d really ruined my relationship with Stephen, and Steve was pretty pissed with me as well, and I couldn’t even begin to describe the amount of shit I said to Paisley before realizing I could never speak to her again. Somehow, throughout this trip, I’d pushed everyone away from me, one by one, until I was drinking alone in a bar for the third night in a row. Tonight, I was hoping to break my record and not get slightly wasted, but to consume an ungodly amount of liquor and become trashed.

Classic rock echoed dimly through the isolated bar for isolated people, but no one was paying any attention to Led Zeppelin tearing it up, not while the highlights of the previous day’s events were about to start up. I’d found myself staring intently at the screen, at least mildly curious as to what I’d been missing over my drunken sadness, when I heard a glass clank against the table rather sloppily beside me, and a man I hadn’t even seen in the establishment was sitting beside me, and rather close. The glass was empty, and he’d swallowed whatever had remained about the same time he sat down, exhaling over-dramatically as he looked not at me but at the same screen I’d been watching. He wasn’t a very tall guy, but even through his plain white shirt and leather jacket, you could tell he was built. When he sat, he lounged as though he owned the place, and he had the face of a grade-A asshole.

He looked at me, noticing I was staring at him, studying him, and he sat up rather annoyed, as though I’d interrupted him. “Well, who are you here for?” His voice caught me off-guard, and I couldn’t help but to instantly hate him a little bit more for being British.

“Who am I here for?” I repeated.

“Why is a girl like you alone in a place like this?”

I continued to stare at him, too annoyed and honestly too drunk to comprehend what he was asking. “A girl like me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You don’t know me.”

He looked me over for a few moments, taking extra time to carefully examine my breasts and then deciding they weren’t worth his time. “Well, your chest is pale but your arms are tan and you’re here all alone, looking like an easy score, so either you’ve just recently been in a tragic and heart-shattering breakup, or you’ve been insulted rather harshly by people you thought were your friends, and you’re looking to get laid to boost your self-confidence.” As I continued to stare, now even more annoyed, he added sarcastically, “You’re lovely, Darling.”

..He wasn’t wrong.

Looking away, down into my drink, I asked softly, “And if the answer is both?” Quickly, I added, “Although, I’d never get drunk in a bar and hope to get laid. I-I’m not like that.” Had he considered it? God, he’d considered it.

At this, he laughed, and despite wanting to hate him, it was a laugh that made me want to laugh too. “Well then, I’d say, cheers to you for having such a shitty night.” He lifted his drink, realized it was empty, and clinked the glass with mine before setting his down again. I’d finished mine then, and he watched me, then looked back at the screen. He looked back to the bartender and ordered straight whiskey, Jack Daniels nonetheless, and ordered six shot glasses to which he poured and gave me three. “What say you and me play a little game?”

I’d sourly wished I wasn’t already drunk, wished my mind could process everything he was saying at a normal rate, but I couldn’t and just stared at him for a long while, confused and lost and wanting to take those shots while also wanting to leave before I was kidnapped. “What kind of game?”

He leaned in a little bit, resting his hand against his cheek for support, and he stared deeply into my eyes, if it were possible for two drunk individuals to do so. “I give you an answer, and you have to give me the question. Get it wrong, take a shot. Loser buys drinks.”

“So.. Like Jeopardy?”

“The hell’s a Jeopardy?” he asked. I stared for a long time, squinting my eyes at him, and remembering he was British. Clearly, he hadn’t lived here, or at least not long.

“Right, so.. Answers. You go first.”

Satisfied I had got it, he looked back at the television for a while during his contemplation. After several minutes of not speaking, he finally said, “To support a friend who’s competing.”

At first, I was lost and genuinely forgot we were playing any sort of game, but seeing the whiskey helped remind me, and looking back at the screen quickly gave me the answer. “Why you’re here.”

“It’s supposed to be a question, Love, so unfortunately--”

“Why the hell are you here?” I interrupted. He glanced at me, surprised, and laughed.

“Alright. Your turn.”

Thinking of an answer required to think of a question, and then that answer had to be something you could get the question from but not too easily, like I couldn’t say ‘two’ and expect him to know that’s how many times I’d been to this bar alone. Just like him, I’d thought for a long time, or at least a long time in drunk minutes, and finally, I said, “70’s mostly, and the occasional 50’s.”

The guy looked over at me and squinted, trying to find the answer as though it’d been written across my face, and maybe it was (I was really drunk). “Well, you’re obviously referring to decades, most likely music, but you could be referring to cinemas.” Another another moment, he asked, “What are your favorite decades for songs to come from? Personally, I loved the 90’s.”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but it made me laugh, and because I was drunk, I laughed a lot. “Okay, okay. Tell me something else.”

This answer did not take a lot of time for him to come up with. “I was seventeen at the time, and she was some girl I worked with.”

If there was anything I felt I knew about the guy, it was his love and passion for, well.. Passionate love. “Who was the first girl you had sex with? Um, how old were you the first time you had sex?”

He narrowed his eyes at me and nudged me. “Get your mind out of the gutter. It was how old I was for my first real relationship.”

I grumbled, “That wasn’t exactly easy.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly say I was a nice man, now did I?” God, he was so sassy, I wanted to punch the British right out of him.

Annoyed, I took my first shot. The Daniels hurt like hell, and like a newbie, I coughed a bit, but the shot was down, and I could have sworn the liquor went straight to my brain.

“Not doing too well, Sweetheart, are you?” he taunted, and I only became more and more pissed off.

“Okay, fine. Four people, including the aforementioned bastard who dumped me a few days ago, while on vacation.” I said.

He laughed once, probably at how bitter I was about the whole scenario, and then he began. “Well, seeing where your mind is, I’d say either the number of men you’ve dated, or the number of people you’ve slept with. Although, seeing as how you’re dressed to get picked up, I’d say they’re probably not mutually exclusive.”

Okay, so that one hurt a little.

“It was the fucking first one,” I replied coldly.

“Well, I’m taking that as I won that round. How many people have you slept with?”

“I’m sorry, that’s not how the game works,” I shot back.

After holding his hands up and going, “Fine, have it your way,” he then said, “Got close to doing it, but then I realized she was a demonic hell-beast and broke it off.”

After his second answer, I wasn’t about to mention sex, although every answer of his sounded like it was what he was referring to.  “Well, you’re not talking about dating, because you dated a coworker. I can’t imagine you turning a job down because of a boss. Well.. Possibly. Maybe. Broke it off sounds like something about dating..” Slowly, my drunken mind crawled forward, and I could almost see the question he was wanting me to ask. “...Are you married?” I asked, shocked.

He grinned, but there was also a bit of resentment and remorse for whoever he was thinking about. “I’m impressed. Dated her for a few years and proposed before the entire relationship crumbled apart, much like the American government.”

“Okay.. Wow. Um.. Sandra Bullock, if I were old enough or she were young enough, and I was lucky enough,” I said.

“Sounds easy enough,” he replied, and he thought for only a seconds before asking, “Celebrity you’d meet if you got the chance?”

After laughing, I said, “Celebrity I’d bang if I got the chance.”

He stared, a little concerned, and a little amused, and after turning his head and lifting the shot, he downed it and swallowed both the liquid and the attraction he’d suddenly felt upon imaging Sandra and me. “Okay. It was an antique World War II pistol. I still have it, actually.”

This question got me, and it got me fast. I’d taken almost seven minutes before he said, “Well?”

“I have no idea. What was the first gun you ever shot?”

“First gun I ever owned.”

After taking the shot and feeling its sweet sting, I stared at the last glass in front of me and said, “I have a friend who’s really into World War II. Wish he was born in that time period just so that he could have fought in the war. Not sure he could've done much, but he could have smashed a lot of Nazis’ faces in, that’s for sure.”

“Does he play baseball?”

“He did. One of the several reasons I had the biggest crush on him.” I didn’t think for long before I said, “New York, although I’d love to go anywhere else.”

“Where you were born?”

“Where I live. I was born in Oklahoma. Moved to New York about two years ago, after an incident that I wanted to escape.” He stared at me, confused and concerned after this.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Aren’t you supposed to take a shot?” I asked.

He continued to stare while he drank the whiskey down, then he looked back at the screen. Somehow, it was almost over. “Alright, how about it. Last shot goes to the loser of this game. I’m assuming you haven’t seen the winner?”

“Uh.. No, I haven’t. Know someone competing for America. A friend of a.. Roommate.” It sort of hurt not calling Paisley a friend. Okay, I wanted to cry.

“My friend Hartley was supposed to compete. Magically had her entire arm broken before getting the chance, and yet there ‘doesn’t seem to be any foul play involved’. Still, I’m rooting for the UK. Kind of have to, even though I don’t live there anymore.”

Of course, fucking Germany won, although the UK and America had both won silver and bronze.

“Well, technically we both won,” I said.

“Technically, we both lost.” He and I both lifted our last shot. “To fucked up pasts, and the sweet company in failure.” We toasted to this and drank, and I laughed a little at him when he slammed his glass down, content. The glass, of course, broke and the bartender was on his ass, demanding that was the last of the alcohol for both of us. “I will be paying for that, as well as the whiskey.”

“Since we both lost, shouldn’t I be splitting this with you? Broken glass not included.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sweetheart.” He gave the man cash and stood, straightening his jacket out before heading for the door.

“Wait, Jackass. What’s your name?” I said. I tried standing, but it turned into lean against the bar while watching the Brit walk away before I could even attempt to walk.

He only turned around to look at me but continued walking as he said, “Come back tomorrow, and I might just tell you.” With that, he turned again, and I realized I needed to call someone to haul my drunk ass out.

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // ...and another opens.

Clint was complaining about the village. Apparently, Rio had really shorted the athletes on their housing and managed to make the place nearly unlivable; there was no wifi and their rooms looked liked pig pens. Paisley felt horrible for him truly, but she wasn’t the one to talk —thanks to the fact she was laying on the beach and listening to the waves wash against the sand. There were children giggling a little ways away, and the sand felt soft below her. Even the sun felt nice against her skin, leaving Paisley with a calm feeling as Clint continued to rattle on about how horrible the village was.

“It’s like they don’t even care,” he scoffed. “It’s not like they even wanted it here, so why don’t they just give the Olympics to someone who can actually sustain themselves…”

“Because it’s not just for the five big countries?” Paisley piped in. Her opinion clearly wasn’t appreciated, because Clint chuckled in response. “Okay, so maybe they shouldn’t have picked a city who was already crippled from the World Cup.”

“Yeah. They could have picked, like, Hungary.”

Paisley chuckled. “Is that because you really want to go back to Budapest?”

She felt a light tossing of sand on her legs, and frowned. He did not just throw that on her. There could have been a crab in that and she wouldn’t have known! However, she took his response as an endorsement to her thoughts. That was good enough for Pai. “Speaking of romantic getaways — how’s the girlfriend?”

“Oh, now you want to know about Laura?” For the longest time, Paisley could have cared less about his girlfriend. He would say “the L word” and she would tune out. Maybe think about her next recital. However, in recent months he had gotten truly serious about the girl. Even thought about proposing after the Olympics. (That wasn’t Paisley’s area of expertise, so she pushed him towards some of his married friends: the few that he had.) “She’s doing good. On her way out here actually. Had to get time off from the daycare to make it.”

“I can’t believe that woman actually enjoys children.”

“I can’t believe you don’t.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Hey, don’t wear the name out.”

For a few seconds, their laughter mixed with the children’s from down the beach front. Laughing felt weird to Pai’s lungs, and her face. Keeping a smile for so long was extraterrestrial and strange to her face, where it used to be a common occurrence. For someone who screamed at Terrie to move on, Paisley felt like she never would — truly.  

“What about you?”

“What?”

Clint had to do that sometimes: snap Paisley out of whatever funk she was rapidly falling into. He looked over for a second, expanding on his initial thought. “What about you? Anyone special?”

“Oh,” she breathed out. The sound of a certain laugh and the smell only connected to him flashed through her mind for a second — tingling at her senses until she shook her head. “No. Nope.”

Hesitant to push her any farther, Clint was quiet with his next question. “Do you want there to be?”

Before she could even answer the question, there was an assault of sand to borage them and leave one of the two sputtering to cough everything up. “Sorry!” A deep voice laughed, and Clint watched as the younger man turned around. His smile dropped upon spotting them — or maybe he spotted the blind girl and her cane. “Oh, shit.”

Paisley couldn’t place her finger of where she knew the voice from, but she hoped Clint would have a clue. He didn’t. He didn’t have any idea as to why the guy was gawking at Paisley like she was some zoo animal. He was about ready to get up and make the guy leave when he sputtered out her name and something that sounded like a shit ton of apologizes afterwords.

“I didn’t even know you would be here. Definitely didn’t mean to—”

“Quill!” An even deeper voice shouted from across the beach, where a group of guys were waiting; this ‘Quill’ guy gave them the finger and turned back to Paisley.

It seemed to click for Paisley, who shot up like a rod. Clint noted the way she could feel his hand on her leg and how she skirted away a few inches. “Wh-what are you doing in Rio?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” He replied with a dopey smile. It made Clint want to punch it off his face if he continued to make Paisley so flustered. Lucky wasn't here to tell her whether or not he was okay. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He laughed again.

Paisley couldn’t believe it from her end either. She hadn’t heard from Peter since that god-awful party. He had said he would keep in contact with her, but there had been nothing. Somehow, they were meeting again. This couldn’t be some coincidence, right? Her shoulders relaxed from their tense positions, and her hands stopped clutched the sand beneath her towel so much.

Clint looked between the two of them, his eyes landing on this new fellow more than he looked at Paisley. (If he had to call it something, Clint guessed he was sizing the new guy up.) This was a man who Pai had never even mentioned before, and he was supposed to expect that she was already calming down around him?

Paisley smiled back for the first time in their interaction; Peter could just barely see it below the wide brim of her sunhat. Her lips were moving however, as he heard her voice: “I never took you as an Olympic fellow.”

He cocked his head, grinning just as wide as he could. “Really? I thought I seemed like a big karate fan.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, but that’s not why you came — is it?”  

“Nah, ‘Mora is a pole vaulter.” He explained it easily, causing Clint to look over to him with a sort of amazed expression. So, that was why he looked vaguely familiar. At least it was better than this man being on “America’s Most Wanted”.

“Right!” Paisley sat up with the revelation as she adjusted her hat. It sat a little crooked on her head, but Peter was sure she felt comfortable so he didn’t say anything. “That’s nice of you to come and support her.”

“Well, you’re doing the same thing,” Clint interjected. He felt like he needed to say something or else he would melt into the sand. (Neither Paisley or her friend would notice, and the only way people would even care was when his name was called for training and no one showed up.) “It’s what friends do.”

“Right,” Peter backed him up. The look Clint shot him in return was enough to keep his mouth shut and refraining from doing that again. Peter noted not to talk to this blonde man much, because he was an athlete and didn’t want it to be for something like shotput. Instead, he turned his attention back to Paisley. “You wouldn’t want to come cheer her on, would you?” The other male in the conversation could hear his hesitation, but Paisley seemed to barely notice as she was hesitating herself. It was like watching children flirt. Oh, God. He really was the dad. peter tried to add on something else to the deal by explaining, “You could meet my friends.”

“Would Groot be there?”

“Yeah, Groot will be there.” Peter chuckled.

“Then I’ll be there.”

Thank God Paisley couldn’t see just how stupid the kid looked with a big smile on his face as soon as she agreed. It was like they were the only two on the beach — or at least Peter looked like he only seemed to care that Paisley was. If this kid continued to be stupid, Clint would have to warn Terrie. Oh, who was he kidding? Despite the fact he still loathed her, at least she was getting better about watching out for Paisley. She would be good to watch out for this guy.

The two of them chatted for a little longer, and then he bid her goodbye and jogged over to his friends again. Paisley laid back down in the sand with the most picturesque sigh and smile. “So,” Clint tried. “You said ‘no one special?’”.

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // one door shuts...

Paisley knew her friends were still a little pissed from a few nights ago, so that’s why she wisely chose to stay away from the two-thirds she could navigate away from. Terrie, on the other hand, was a little harder to get away from. Probably because of their shared room. Pai had managed to stay away for a day, but the Monday morning after the ‘incident’ caused a bit of alarm.

“Look,” Paisley pleaded. Sitting on her bed, she was trying to think of some way to justify her actions while Terrie was up and about doing something in the room. Lucky had his head on her lap, and everything seemed calm but tense at the same time. It felt like a disaster was coming. “I didn’t get hurt, a friend took me home, and you would never have even found out about this if you hadn’t called Clint. I get what I did was wrong, but everything would have been fine.”

“That guy brought you home because you got separated from whoever you were with.” Terrie fought back as she ruffled through something Paisley couldn’t make out. “Which I still don’t know who was stupid enough to abandon a blind girl at a party.”

Well, you and everyone else did, Paisley couldn’t help but think. And he’s not dumb. He’s got a master’s degree. She almost added the last half, but decided against it by saying: “I’ll never tell,” instead. Terrie scoffed before continuing her rummaging.

“Anyways, the whole night could have gone a lot differently. You made a stupid choice.”

“So what if I did?” Paisley replied. She could feel anger boiling up in the pit of her chest, which was almost never directed at Terrie (unless she had taken something without telling only to be caught by Steve or Bucky later). “You can’t baby me forever!” Her finger was pointed towards the direction she believed Terrie to be in. “I know what happened, but I’m trying to move on and I can’t do that without everyone else moving on too. That includes you.”

She knew Terrie liked time to think alone, so Paisley grabbed Lucky’s leash from around his neck and tried it around her wrist. “I’m gonna go for a walk, maybe head to a museum on Sixth.” Her bag was hooked on one of those command hooks (which were the only hooks allowed in the dorm) right by the door. She pulled open the door, scoffing and adding, “Unless you think that’s too much for me too.”

Paisley let the door shut once she was out with Lucky. Almost as soon as they had made it outside, she regretted everything the had said. Pai was one for dramatics, and she hoped Terrie would remember that. If everything wasn’t okay when she got home, she would apologize immensely.

[transcendencenyu]

terrie // broken crowds

“..You guys remember that time we rearranged the furniture on Paisley?” I asked softly. I wasn’t quite sure anyone was listening, or that anyone would answer, but it was better than my alternative, which was continue sucking down whatever it was Steve had given me as a “nice alternative” to whatever it was Bucky was having. This meant it was healthy, tasted horrible, and was nonalcoholic. The thing had the consistency of vegetable oil, and it looked a lot like it in color too, and every drink I took was a horrid gulp, hoping that if I chugged the thing, he’d be too impressed to offer more.

“She wouldn’t talk to us for like a week,” Buck replied. “She kept walking around with her hands out in front of her and swore at us every time she was unsure as to where she was. It’s a good thing you didn’t go into interior decorating, Terrie, because she’d kill you.” He was on the couch in the living room, his head rested against the armrest as he balanced a bottle on his chest, and when he pushed up with his stomach, the bottle tilted just enough so that the sweet liquid would slowly trickle into his mouth. We’d watched him do this for half an hour until he finally had to use his hand to tilt the bottle himself. Still, he avoided eye contact the entire night, and his eyes seemed glazed, as though she was never really there with us.

“Why do you think I changed majors?” I asked. At this, Buck managed to smile and looked over at me, only for a moment, then looked away.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Of course. I’ve never had a major,” I said, and I felt the weight of that statement sink in as I stared at the glass in front of me.

“To be fair, Bucky’s had over seven.” Steve gave a small grin and let me know he was trying his best to make the most of the situation. I felt too tired to really give a shit, but his thoughtfulness was kind nonetheless. The two of us were on the floor (after a long and heated debate over who should sit on the chair, we both declined and ended up here), and I’d moved rather quickly from a seated position, to a miserable crawling position, although I made no distance, and Steve didn’t seem too far behind me.

“What are you going to major in, Terrie?” Buck asked. I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or just sort of throwing out words that just so happened to create a sentence we actually understood, but I sighed anyway and began getting rather pouty.

“If I knew, then don’t you think I’d be.. You know.. Majoring in it?” I asked. This made Bucky laugh, but it was more of a bitter expel of air.

“Always found you the scientist type.” Steve looked over at me, squinting at me as though this motion somehow made Bucky’s words clearer to him, and then he looked over at Bucky, just in time to miss the panicked look that had spread into my eyes.

“Terrie, a scientist? She failed basic chemistry.”

“And thank you for bringing that up again, asshole,” I replied. I quickly gave Steve an apologetic look, but I only somewhat meant it, and he knew this.

“I don’t know. She always seems confused as to who she is. Like she’s living two lives,” Buck continued.

“Bucky, I think you’re delusional,” I shot at him. About this time, he’d finished the bottle, or at least grown tired of it, because he set it down and got into an upright position, watching my reaction for a long time.

“I probably am, but I’m usually right.”

Somehow, Bucky made the strange drink Steve had given me more appealing than conversation, so I did what I could to finish it before sighing softly and saying, “Whatever part of me wanted to be involved in science is dead.” The boys were sweet enough to let it end with that.

After a while, Buck said, “I think you’d make a decent lawyer. Never know when to shut up, never like being wrong. That, and you’ve got your girlish charm.”

“I am not going to law school.”

“If there was a job for being indecisive, you’d definitely be hired in a pinch,” Buck said, and he laid back down, retreating back to his own world while I looked back at Steve, and Steve looked back at me.

“Just do whatever feels like the right decision. The right one will come to you,” he reassured me. I tried to smile, but I was just too tired for it, so I closed my eyes, knowing that very quickly, I would fall asleep.

When I woke up, Buck was in his room, noted by the rather loud television playing another one of his favorites I had brought over, and Steve was in the kitchen area, resting against the counter while he drank from his favorite coffee mug. “Are you doing okay?” he asked, peering over the rim before taking a sip.

For a very long time, I was disoriented, like I’d woken up days after having unknowingly fallen asleep, and after a while, I realized I was confused partly because I was now on the couch. Of course, Steve had moved me there. He’d even donated one of his softer blankets for the case. I sat up slowly, turning away while I yawned rather widely, then looked back at him and nodded. “Haven’t slept a lot lately. Completely my fault.” I yawned again and stretched my arms up over my head. “Hey, has Paisley called me or anything yet? We usually call each other before bed, gossip and tell each other goodnight. ..It sounds really girly when I put it that way. It was mostly my idea.. It makes me feel.. I don’t know. Safe.”

Steve set the mug down and grabbed my phone from the counter, tossing it over to me. You could tell just by a glance that this man had once played on the baseball team, and he definitely killed it. “I don’t know. I wasn’t really looking.”

Looking at my phone, I saw nothing. It didn’t really concern me, because she often fell asleep before we could talk, so I thought for sure that was what had happened and decided to call Clint instead. The moment he picked up, he sounded annoyed, displeased, and woken up. “What the hell do you want?”

I was already sitting up, panic setting in again, but I wasn’t yet sure why. “Hey, Clint. How’s Paisley? Did she fall asleep already too?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then, “What the hell are you talking about? She’s not here.” I had already lowered the phone, but still I could hear Clint’s voice in the background: “Where the fuck is Paisley? How could you three idiots lose her again? Does no one actually watch her anymore?” I hung up before I could hear much else, and Steve noticed how pale I began to get. He said I looked as though I was going to pass out, which I believed, because the room was spinning and every noise I heard was lost to the ringing in my ears.

“Terrie? What’s wrong? Terrie? Terrie,” Steve said, rushing over to me and turning my head to face him. “What happened?”

“She.. lied.”

I didn’t want to panic. She was allowed to live her life. She was allowed to lie, to run off and do whatever she wanted to, but I couldn’t help but worry, to feel responsible for fucking up her life entirely, and I just started crying right there, holding onto my phone.

“Terrie, it’ll be alright.” Steve was kneeled down beside me, and he placed his hands over mine, over the phone, and he watched me helplessly, knowing nothing would make me feel better. “She’s probably just fine.”

“We thought she was fine the night she was raped!” I yelled. My body shuttered at the word, and I’d realized it was the first time I said it out loud. Up until then, I guess I pretended it had never actually occurred. Hearing it just sort of changed my perspective, making it plainly obvious that our ignorance was a loaded gun pointed right at Paisley, and again I felt the weight of the world on me.

“We’ll find her,” Steve said quietly. I closed my eyes, tears still forcing their way through, and I nodded slowly.

“Go wake Buck.” While Steve got up to see if Bucky was even breathing at the moment, I unclenched my fists to see the phone again, and through the blurred vision, I called Paisley, crying a little bit harder with every ring.

Suddenly, I heard a voice, although it wasn’t Paisley. “Hello, Terrie! I’ve heard about--” The moment I realized I didn’t know who the voice belonged to, I panicked even more.

“Shut the fuck up. Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is Paisley?” I yelled. I could see Steve and Bucky stumbling in from his room, looking about as terrified as I was, but I looked away, still gasping for air while I listened to the guy on the other side.

“Well, I’m--”

“Have you hurt her?” I asked, trying to calm down, trying not to crack and lose my composure completely.

“No--no!” I couldn’t help but sigh, covering my mouth and curling over in pain (crying took a lot out of me). “She’s alright. She’s right here!” And then I heard Paisley’s voice, and it sounded genuine enough, as though she wasn’t being held at gunpoint being told to convincingly lie to me, but I was still shaking and exhausted and worried for my best friend, who I’d selfishly ignored apart from a goddamn box of popsicles that were now gone. “You, uh, can stop doing that now. You don’t need to worry about your friend.”

“Shut up,” I growled, and I saw the two boys staring desperately at me, so I turned to them and said, “She’s okay, I think.” Then, I turned to him again. “Where are you?”

“At some party in Columbia. We haven’t even been here that long--”

“What’s your name?” I asked. Steve had resumed his previous position, knelt beside me, his hands over mine to keep them from shaking, and Buck was beside me, not touching me, but sitting close enough to be able to hear the man on the other side.

“Peter. Am I going to be able to ask any questions, or are you just going to continue grilling me all night long?”

Somehow, in that one moment, my panic turned into anger, and I took in a deep breath, trying not to yell with the boys so close. “H-Have you done anything to Pai? Have you.. touched her?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” By his tone, I could tell he was being completely serious. It was enough to settle my nerves, and I finally stopped crying.

“Okay. Okay, good. She needs to come home. You need to bring her here. I don’t trust anyone else,” I told him.

“Yeah, I’ll bring her back.”

Again, I sighed, way more relieved than I should have been -- at least over the phone -- and then I thought of something else. “Wait, did she go there with you? Who took her?”

“..I don’t know.” Quietly, I could hear him asking her, and her reply was too soft for me to make the words out, but Peter obediently repeated her words, informing me that she wished to protect the poor person’s identity, and I couldn’t help but get angry at Peter again, despite this being Paisley’s request.

“What do you mean? Peter, for fuck’s sake, she could have gotten hurt, or.. Or worse..”

“Well, she didn’t, okay? She was perfectly fine with me. I’m sorry you thought something happened.” Peter seemed to have his own style, one that naturally made him come off as an absolute dick, but he would often try and fix it with his next sentence, backtracking a bit with his words to make me hate him less.

“You said you knew who I was, yeah?” I asked softly.

“Well, yeah.. Sort of.”

“Then you should know I will personally kick your ass if you don’t bring her here now.” With that, I provided him with the address and hung up, looking over weakly at Steve and Bucky.

“She’s okay..” More than anything, the two of them wanted way more than just that, but I was too weary to give them much else. With that, I curled up on the couch and began crying again, turning away from the boys, although they’d both seen me cry much more than this before. It was Steve who called Clint and dealt with his wrath, and it was Bucky who had to watch her and Peter as Steve opened the door.

“Paisley?” Steve called, and Paisley came in without another word. I’d calmed down again, although I probably looked as shitty as I felt (thank god Paisley couldn’t tell), but I didn’t know what to say or do. Why did I feel like this too was my fault?

“Well,” I said softly, sitting up on the couch, “did you have fun?”

[transcendencenyu]

terrie // help me

The best part about having a blind roommate: she sees nothing you do.

The worst part about having a blind roommate: she hears everything you do.

And while I agree, being able to walk around the place without so much as a bra on is the most convenient feeling in the world, she also seems to know everything, especially when Stephen and I are fighting. I admit, I can be a bit petty, but arguing over whether or not it is socially acceptable to avoid your friends for over a week was more of a top priority for me, which was strange, arguing about this while being in the other room, ignoring said friend. Yeah, things had changed, and I was allowed to grieve just as much as she was, but wasn’t I supposed to get over myself and be the friend she needed me to be now more than ever? Stephen thought so, and he was usually right. Still, I wasn’t about to admit this to him. While Paisley went out to spend time with Clint, I was finally able to appreciate an empty dorm for once in my life, doing what I did best: sulking. I was refusing to speak to Stephen, refusing to speak to anyone, and all I had was a boring romantic movie and vanilla bean ice cream, my only friend.

I’d just heard my spoon begin to hit the bottom of the pint when Steve called me, and for the first time that week, I’d decided to answer. The spoon was in my mouth, curving around my tongue and causing a lisp, but I didn’t care as I asked, “Hello?”

“Hey, Terrie? I wanted to know how you are, but that’s not the reason why I called.” I could hear the concern in Steve’s voice before he’d even gotten my name out of the way, and Steve didn’t usually sound all that worried. He’d always tried to conceal it, but maybe he’d decided against that knowing I wouldn’t listen any other way.

“Then why did you call?” I asked, staring at the spoon now, staring back at the warped reflection of the ceiling as I tried to busy myself with anything other than my friends. I had found that curt replies made for the shortest of conversations and no expectations to follow them.

“It’s Bucky. He’s in one of those moods again, and I can’t seem to get him out of it. I was wondering if maybe you could.. Lift his spirits a bit like before. Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but--”

“It’s fine.” Already, the ice cream had been thrown away, and I was in my room, putting a bra on. Not that the boys would care, but it always seemed to be one of those unspoken rules I’d chosen to follow since moving from an A cup to a B cup. “What’s his current state?” I’d set the phone down after almost toppling down, attempting to keep the phone pressed to my ear while simultaneously slipping on skinny jeans (which were in fact too skinny for someone who ate a pint of ice cream once a week), and already, the noises coming through since putting Steve on speaker made it clear how close and how poor Bucky was.

“He’s drunk, if that’s what you’re asking. I tried to sober him up half an hour ago, but he’s not really listening to anyone at this point.”

And I couldn’t help but laugh at this, because Steve had known Bucky longer than anyone else; naturally, he was the one I’d want to have by my side if we were going to tame Buck, but to know that Steve had failed? He’d no sooner ask me to take Paisley to another party and I’d tell him that it was a good idea. “What do you want me to do? Make him play truth or dare with only himself and hope he doesn’t realize it until he’s too worn out to argue anymore?”

“We just.. I really need you over here, Terrie.” He didn’t have to say much else for me to listen.

“Alright, Steve, but you owe me.” I hung up and finished getting on my socks and converse, wondering how I was supposed to calm Bucky down. He just sort of lost it when he was in these moods, like he was someone completely different, like he didn’t even remember us at all. It was something that, up until the incident with Paisley, I’d never seen. I sorely wished I never had to.

On most days, I just walked to their apartment, but on days like these with a box of popsicles I’d bought for and then stole from Paisley in one hand and a collection of classics that Buck preferred to watch, like Dirty Dancing, the way to get around was by catching a ride. Since I knew practically no one, the only person I could turn to was Bruce. The poor guy drove farther to pick me up than he did to drop me off, but after a long period of sighing and, “I’m not sure what exactly it is you want from me,” he agreed and begged me to make more friends. I accepted his terms and conditions. He made sure to add, “Oh, and I’m sorry about Paisley,” confirming my thought that this was a pity ride, but none of it really mattered. It wasn’t like I’d need another pity ride from him again.

Once we exchanged solemn glances, I got out of the car and headed into their apartment, immediately regretting it and wanting to spend the night with Bruce more than anyone else, but he had unfortunately already left. I checked.

“Steve..?” I called out. Soon enough, I could hear him making his way into the living room, and then I saw him, and I suddenly didn’t know what to say.

“Terrie, thank God you made it. I was beginning to worry,” he said, but his eyes trailed down to stare at the conveniently red, white, and blue colored popsicles in my hand. I couldn’t stop staring at his chest. I’d seen him shirtless before (hell, Buck said he’d show me pictures of Steve naked, which I respectfully declined..), but for some reason, it was different this night. He was different. In a way, I suppose we all were. Things were different now. “Are those popsicles?”

I guess I continued to stare, because Steve had gotten closer, close enough to rest his hand on my shoulder. “Terrie?”

“Y-Yeah,” I said softly, looking up at him. “I thought the situation required outside-the-box thinking, so I.. brought a box full of dyed, frozen sugar. It usually fixes Paisley’s and my own problems.”

And he stared at me incredulously for a while, and then he smiled, shaking his head full of doubt. “Well, thank you. Bucky’s in his room, trying not to get sick for the third time tonight. Do you think you’ll be alright for a few minutes while I change?”

The part of me that’d always had a crush on him sighed, but I quickly reminded myself I was a committed woman and nodded, setting the movies down. “Sure thing.. Stevie.” For added effect, I punched his arm and went on into Buck’s room, praying I saw nothing too unsightly.

“Buck?” I asked softly, closing the door behind me. There was nothing but a dim lamp on, and Bucky was lying across his bed, torn between laying vertically and horizontally, having adopted some sort of amalgamated form in the middle. The trash can from the kitchen was on its side beside him, but it didn’t appear as though he’d used it. Quite ironically, he was trashed.

“Terence?” I’d only begun to narrow my eyes, although I was confused at the time, before he looked over at me, and with a messed up grin, he corrected himself: “Terrie. What brings you here? Wait, what are those?” He sat up before I could open my mouth to speak, and he motioned me to come over. With hesitation, I inched forward and handed him the box, and upon his fingers grazing over mine, I took a few large steps back. I’d picked up this habit of sometimes hating people’s touch, probably from the negative reinforcement I’d began receiving from Paisley, and from knowing I’d done that to her. I especially became wary of drunk people, even the ones I trusted most. Ever since Steve had helped me out, I swore I wouldn’t drink much again, and I’d kept my word.

“God, I love these things.” That was really all Bucky said, because he proceeded to eat an entire box full of popsicles (I told myself I’d buy Paisley another box later. I figured she wouldn’t notice). In the meantime, Steve had opened the door without me noticing and touched my arm lightly, causing me to back up rather than move away from the touch, bumping into him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whispered, but both of his hands were on me now, and you’d think I was the one who’d been violated the way I cringed.

“Terrie, are you alright?” Steve asked softly. I closed my eyes and tried counting to ten, fighting the panic that had built up over the last few weeks, and then I nodded.

“I-I’m fine. I’m just worried about Paisley.”

“Why are you worried about Paisley? ..Terrie, where’s Paisley?” With each second, Steve seemed to become more and more concerned, almost amazed at my ability to continually lose the blind girl, but I shook my head.

“She’s with Clint tonight. I just.. I was having a bad feeling, is all.” Steve observed me for a while more and nodded, letting the conversation (and me) go.

“If we’re going to spend the rest of the night worrying about Paisley, can I at least make a drink that looks like this?” Buck asked, holding up one of the last popsicles up for us to see. Both of us, simultaneously it felt like, said, “No, Bucky,” and thus, our pity party began.

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // how it all goes down

Paisley wasn’t sure how she had roped Stephen in to this. Maybe it had been guilt, thanks to the fact he had skipped out on their coffee/study session the other day, or maybe it was just a general sense of pity that people seemed to have for the blind girl. She wasn’t fond of that pity, but it sure came in handy on nights like this. Nights like these were mainly when Paisley was overcome with a sudden sense of living, and was sure that none of her other friends would be worth anything at a party with her.

She didn’t even chose a party on the NYU campus, instead choosing to go to one at Columbia — where all the lawyers went — so that Terrie, Bucky, and Steve didn’t have any chance of seeing her. Plus, these were more of Stephen’s people. If he was going to get along with anyone at a party, it was going to be a bunch of incoming lawyers and elite students. NYU students were cool, but sometimes their brain seemed to lack a certain chunk that controlled the cognitive thinking in the brain.

The party had actually been going well. She was getting along well with people, laughing a little, and getting Stephen to enjoy himself (or enough to say he was). Paisley and Stephen were a good combo: she was the mouthpiece and he was the eyes.

There was a problem when the latter half needed to use the restroom, though. “I’ll be right back. Can you manage a few minutes alone?” And see, without thinking: Paisley nodded and he took off. She had thought she was good enough to spend some time alone, but God — how wrong she was.

Stephen had bolted before Paisley really thought about her answer, so a few seconds into his departure, she was already regretting her choice. All too suddenly, the music was too loud and the room was too stuffy. There were way too many people around her, brushing her shoulder or knee by accident as they navigated through the room. There were way too many people commenting on the cute dog and asking if they could pet him. It was too many times telling people that no, they couldn’t.

Just when she thought Stephen might be on his way back over, a large roar of laughter came from the group in front of her. The laughter died down for a second, but then she felt hands on her sides and all the air was gone from her body. Then she was being hosted up, and her stomach hit something hard — but she wasn’t any lower. Her hands flew down, hitting something solid, and from her position — the blonde knew she was on someone’s shoulders.

And then, a minute or two later, Paisley was thrown down on a bed, and with tears in her eyes, she waited for something. But there was nothing — absolutely nothing. Just a couple of giggles before the floor creaked and footsteps moved away.

While her heart continued to pound, the only things that were rushing through her head were horrible ideas about what would happen if she was left alone much longer. Maybe she wasn’t even alone, there might be someone in the room. Paisley thought back to last time; how much pain she was in — even to this day. The dull ache present throughout her entire being was starting to take over again, and Paisley could feel tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Why did college kids have to be so stupid? Why did they have to leave her, or throw her over their shoulders, or put her upstairs as a part of some stupid challenege— because that’s what it had to be. Did they not realize she was blind? Did the dog who followed her captor up the stairs not give off any warning signs? Or did they simply not care?

Stephen was no where to be found, and he was supposed to have stayed with her all night to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen.

Maybe college kids weren’t the only stupid ones — maybe she was.

“Hey! I didn’t know you would be here.”

A voice made her jump, as well as the shutting of a door, which caused Lucky to go on high alert. Sometimes, Paisley forgot just how good of a dog Lucky was, but it was moments like these that made her remember. Her fingers slid through his fur, while she waited for the person to continue. Meanwhile, Paisley’s body language symbolized she was braced for anything. Her guest could tell.

Peter, from his spot in front of her, frowned. He could see her, like she was ready for him to hurt her — which was definitely not his intention. In fact, he wanted to make sure she was okay because a blind girl shouldn’t be alone a party, even for a second. (She definitely shouldn’t be hoisted over someone’s shoulder, but he was sure Gamora was giving them an earful downstairs.) Paisley might have had a dog and cool glasses, but that wasn’t enough for Peter to consider her safe. He glanced over to the door, imaging his friends downstairs and looking at the staircase in amusement. He dismissed the idea, instead choosing to look back to the blonde in front of him.

“It’s Peter,” he cautiously continued. “From the lottery line?” Paisley’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, which gave him enough of a confidence push to continue. “I thought you might want some company.” She relaxed some more, and Peter took that as his cue to sit down on the ground in front of her.

“That’s, uh, nice of you.”

He shrugged. “I saw you get hauled off. Figured I might check to make sure you were good.”

This is the worst, Paisley thought. She didn’t want to ruin his night, but she was sure she was going to because Paisley was practically shaking in her skin at the fact Stephen had left her alone. Even worst, someone who thought she was probably cool enough to warrant the choice to talk to her again had to think she was such a loser for freaking out so much. If she had to imagine, she was sure she looked like a shaking and wet dog — like the ones from her neighborhood when she was a kid. Pai needed to fix that, but the only thing to was make sure he was already occupied, so she tried to keep the conversation going by asking: “You have friends here?”

Peter took this in a completely different fashion than what she had meant. He brushed off the question by replying, “They can wait, don’t worry.” Quickly afterwords, he threw caution to the wind — which was a very peter thing to do — by adding, “I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Oh?” That was supposed to be a compliment, and Paisley knew that. For a few seconds even, she took it as one. Then, reality set in and killed her. “Oh.” God, such bad timing. He didn’t mean it that way, right? It wasn’t meant to sound like some threat, even though that was the only thing Paisley could hear now. Why was she such a problem?

“Something wrong?” Peter questioned.

“No!” She was quick to reply. Almost too quick, and she knew that when Peter didn’t say anything in response. Her mind stuttered to find a way to explain, so she blurted out, “Well — last time a guy wanted to hang out with me at a party, it didn’t turn out well…”

“What happened?”

And that’s when Paisley knew she was caught. Peter wasn’t supposed to know that kind of thing yet, so she chose to try and navigate away. “So, you have friends here?”

He frowned heavily, feeling uneasy at the fact she wasn’t expanding on her experiences. Why was this girl so hard to crack? Why was she hiding things from him? Why did she act like she was scared of him?

“Yeah. There’s Rocket — we think looks like a trashed panda when he get’s drunk —And, there’s Dracks who has no sense of humor, but he’s great if one of us get in trouble. There’s Groot—”

He had to pause, because Paisley let out a small laugh at the name. “What a nickname,” she commented, leaving Peter with a smile on his face. She was smiling; that was a good.

He continued with excitement, “I know! That’s what I was saying, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Oh, then there’s Gamora. She’s just great.”

He didn’t say anything else, leading Paisley to feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know why, but very slowly, she asked,“Do you like Gamora?”

“No, not anymore.” He dismissed. “I did a few years ago, but we’ve grown up. You’ve liked someone like that, right?”

“I think so—”

It was funny how things happened in Paisley’s life, because she was ready to open up a little, but the phone in her pocket chose that moment to ring. “Let me get it for you,” Peter said without giving her a second to prepare him for the onslaught he was about to receive. Paisley had that ringtone especially for Terrie. She might actually kill this kid.

He started out well enough, sounding excited to hear from her. “Hello, Terrie! I’ve heard about—” Obviously, Terrie was already grilling him on the other side of the phone, leaving no air for Peter. He did his best to cut in, however, made obvious by his little stutters to try and get a word in. “No—no!” He cut in a second later with, “She’s alright. She’s right here!” Paisley let out a friendly hello, hoping that would calm Terrie’s nerves a little. The conversation between the other two continued however, and Peter sounded like he knew he had made a mistake. Then, there was a rush of air besides her as he stood up. She could hear his boots clomping on the wooden floors while he paced. “I wouldn’t dare.” That had to be disgust, which was soon covered by a more professional tone as he promised, “I’ll bring her back.” A pause, then, “—I don’t know. Paisley, who brought you here?”

She lifted an eyebrow, unprepared for a question to be directed in her manner. “I’d rather not get them in trouble.”

He relayed the info back to her roommate, and after a few more passes back and forth, he hung up. That was followed by a big sigh, and then the gentle weight on the bed beside her. “We better get you over there.”

Twenty minutes later, Peter parked in front of Steve and Bucky’s apartment complex as some mixtape played softly in the background. His sense of music was dated, but Paisley considered that a good thing. It was actually amazing how he had cultivated such an original sense of music; she would have to borrow a mixtape sometime.

“You’ve got some really protective friends,” Peter commented as he put the car in park. It shifted slightly, but settled down when he turned it off.

“Yeah…about that…” she sighed. Peter seemed like a good person.  “I’m gonna’ tell you something another time, and you’re going to have to promise not to freak out, okay?”

“It sounds like you have superpowers, Paisley.”

“No. I wish I did.” Peter didn’t say anything back, and Paisley was ready to tell him. But then she thought about it. This boy must think she was a cool person, and being blind was already a lot for him to take in. Maybe telling him about The Incident wasn’t so smart. “I’m sorry—“ she laughed awkwardly, wringing her hands out them wiping them off on her jeans. “I actually can’t right now.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. Not if you don’t want to. Because if you have superpowers and it’s better that people like me don’t know, then we can just pretend this whole thing never happened. ” It was so easy for Peter to work with her, leaving Paisley to feel like a child with him.

She still managed to laugh though. “Thanks,” she said in a breathy voice.

“Do you want me to walk you up to the apartment?” He would offer things like that: like getting her a drink of water or a walk downstairs to find a friend and she would feel a single butterfly in her stomach, so how could she say no?

“If you could.”

He stepped out of the car, and even though Paisley had her hand on the handle to let them out, he opened the door and helped her out. The wind blasted outside, causing Pai to shiver against herself as they headed towards the entrance of the building. Peter took note, shoving off his jacket and throwing it around her shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

They made their way inside, as well as up the elevator, in relative silence and ease. Peter had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, guiding her towards the doorway she had explained to him. Lucky was happily trotting behind the two, looking between them. Everything almost seemed normal for a second.

It wasn’t until the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking Bucky, that both Paisley and Peter realized they weren’t in a normal situation. Pai didn’t know who had opened the door, but she felt Peter tense besides her. Bucky, from his view, could see Peter's wide eyes. He glanced down to Paisley beside him, who was utterly oblivious to the mess in front of her.

Bucky glanced to Peter again, muttered a curt thank you, then disappeared into the room.

Despite the idea that was an invitation for Peter to join them, he knew it was probably time to take his leave. "I'll see you around?" He asked. Paisley smiled in his direction, and Peter felt his heart swell ever so slightly in his chest. He covered it up with a short, "Cool," and called it good.

Her hand moved latch onto the door frame, only for it to stop mid-motion. "Oh," a small breath escaped her lips as Paisley turned around to face Peter. "You better take this," she said, shimmying off his jacket.

He took it from her hands gently, and just stood there to look at her. It hadn't occurred to him before just how small she was. In fact, she was tiny. When it was just the two of them, she didn't seem nearly as built up as her public figure. He wondered why that was.

"Paisley?"

A voice from inside broke the moment, and Peter took that as his cue to clear his throat and push out, "Thanks." He chose to take her shoulder and walk her inside just slightly before bidding her goodbye  and moseying towards the elevator. He got inside, holding his jacket to his side, and waited for the door to shut. It did, and so did the chance to ask when he would see her again.  

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // a night at the opera

Paisley didn’t have somewhere to go at the end of the semester. It wasn’t like she had a place to call home, made obvious by the lack of family that had come to help her when she suffered the incident. (She had been alone in that hospital room with Clint, who was basically her family, and when the doctor had told her there were no family members on call, she could have sworn Clint took in a sharp breath. That’s when he took the doctor out into the hall and left Pai with Lucky.) The lack of a summer home didn’t really seem like such an inconvenience during the school year, but when the season came and she couldn’t ask Clint because he was off on Olympic trials, Paisley knew she was in a bit of pickle.

She was thinking about it all the time, even when she wasn’t supposed to be. On nights when Stephen was reading to her, or days when she was getting tea with Steve and Bucky, Pai was constantly trying to figure out her living situation. It wasn’t hard for the latter to figure it out, seeing as they knew how she tuned out. Stephen came with a bit more trouble. Ultimately, none of them dared to ask why she was disconnecting so much, because they all had their own theories and she was sure none of them were right.

It was actually Tony who was the first to ask. Her final was coming up in science, and he had offered to help her while she worked on some work for one of her musical composition finals. While he peppered her with questions regarding the final, she tried to find some sort of inspiration to finish this piece she was supposed to have done in a week. He would ask about covalent bonds, and she would do her best to break free of the bonds of being without inspiration. After a question about ions, she slammed her hands down on the piano and they decided to call it quits. “Maybe we should go see a show?”

Pai titled her head, leading Lucky to nudge his own head in order to glance up at his master. “You want to take me to Broadway?”

Tony shrugged. “I mean, why not? We can wait in the lottery line.” Paisley felt uneasy at the proposition. Maybe it was the fact she would be surrounded by people in the middle of Manhattan, or maybe she didn’t want to be with Tony alone. Whatever it was, she was felt like telling him no. “Why do you want to take me to a show?”

Tony paused; he set down his pen and gave her a glance. Unsure of whether or not to reveal his true intentions, he took more time than normal to really consider his options. Then he knew that the only thing he could do was tell Pai the truth — otherwise she would think something was up the entire time. Paisley was good with figuring him out — it had to be something in his voice.

She heard him sigh, and after another short pause he explained, “I thought you might open up after a show, since you’ve been out of since you got here. Any reasons why?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Paisley really didn’t want him to offer up some luxurious apartment to stay at over break, only for her to let him down as gently as she could. “I’m just nervous about the final.” At least that was true; she wasn’t lying when it came to the answer. She just wasn’t telling the truth — there was a difference. In some attempt to change the topic, Paisley shut the piano and asked, “How about that show?”

They got to the theatre, although the trip there wasn’t the most enjoyable. The Uber they had taken had to let them off a few blocks away from the building — and Lucky had been stopped at least twice by people who wanted to pet him. Tony intercepted both of those times, but Paisley was already tired — and jumpy. Someone might brush against her shoulder, and her heart would start racing. This may not have been the best idea. Unsure if she even wanted to do this at moments, her mind would race at the idea that they would never make it. Then, Tony would tell her they were only a few more feet away from the line. Her logic summed the situation up to the fact it would be hell to go all the way back now.

Paisley let Tony sit her down on the ground, Lucky in his guard-dog position next to her as Tony went to look at entering the lottery.  “Cool dog,” a voice next to Paisley said, causing her to jump. “What’s it’s name?”

In an effort to believe they were being friendly, Paisley faked a smile and replied, “Lucky.”

The stranger next to her didn’t ask a question in return. Maybe he saw the way Paisley had curled her fists and how her knuckles had gone white. Maybe her face had gone white. The lenses she had on sure didn’t help any situation for her, since they provided such a contrast.

“And what’s the name of Lucky’s owner?”

Oh, so he had decided to continue. “It’s Paisley.” It was best to keep things brief, or at least that’s what she thought. The gentleman next to her had different ideas, because he even scooted a little closer — made obvious by the slight scratch below him and a low growl emitted from Lucky.

“Is Lucky a guard dog?” He joked. Then, abruptly, “Are you famous?”

Paisley laughed in return, even though she felt a little frightened by the fact she hadn’t heard him move away. (It was more of a scoff, but at least it was something.) “No,” she smiled. After a second, she expanded, “He’s a seeing dog.”

“Oohh,” he cooed. Then, he scoffed a little and Paisley was scared she had just ruined some conversation she was actually enjoying. He managed to surprise her by saying, “Well, that should have been obvious. Your awesome glasses should have given that away.”

Paisley might have blushed in return. (She hoped her glasses covered her cheeks.) “Awesome? You think they’re awesome?”

“Uhm, of course!” He shouted back. She jolted in her spot, and the stranger tuned himself down when he added, “No one has rocked those that well since the 80’s. And I would know —I love the 80’s.” There was such pride in those words, as if it was almost the only thing this man could be proud of.

“Thanks,” she said back. Paisley didn’t know why it was easy to talk to him, but somehow there was a sense of ease that had to be in his voice. She continued by saying, “My friend Terrie helped me pick them out. Oh! And they felt nice.”

“Well, give Terrie my compliments.”

“I will.”

She was smiling in his direction, and the image she had was that he was smiling back. Then, with a happy and content pause between the two of them, Paisley waited for Tony to return. She chalked the whole situation up to some good encounter in the city. Paisley had a habit of finishing things before they were down, however and that was evident when he continued:

“I’m Peter, by the way. I figured since—”

“Pai!” Tony shouted from a while away. He watched as the fellow next to Paisley glanced over to him, and frowned. “Is this guy bothering you?” He asked, almost rushing back to her at that point.

“I hope not,” the stranger frowned. “I thought we had a good thing going.”

“Yeah,” Paisley seconded. “He was fine. Actually, he was really good company.”

[transcendencenyu]

paisley // every teardrop’s a waterfall

Paisley didn’t feel like going to class. In fact, she didn’t feel like doing anything, which meant that Lucky didn’t feel like doing anything either. His tail wagged lazily in front of her, even though her eyes weren’t tuned to pick up such a movement. But, the blonde could feel the ends of his fur brushing over her skin. It was a calming sensation when nothing in her life could be considered that.

Everything around her would be considered calm by anyone else, but the quiet didn’t settle well with her. It just reminded of her of the morning that lady found her, and how no one could seem bothered to ask how she was doing before that woman. How alone she was. How long had it been since she heard the door open anyways? Terrie hadn’t been around in awhile, and neither had Steve or Bucky. Steve had an excuse — he was out of the country. And, she guessed Bucky and Terrie did too. They were all working through things, and she was selfish to want them. She was selfish to want anyone, if Paisley was really thinking about it.

This was her problem, her fault. She needed to keep the whole thing to herself.

There was a knock at the door — Stephen’s. He was the only one who used 3 gentle knocks, followed by two more, spaced out slightly. He used it every time. It was something Paisley had gotten used to, even soothed by sometimes. Those knocks meant someone was around who understood her troubles, and didn’t try to push any limits. He didn’t react. He just went along with everything, and with no trouble. Plus, Stephen read to her. She liked that.

“What are you up for today?” His voice asked. “Chemistry notes or our Literature assignment?”

“Literature, please.”

Thirty pages and two glasses of orange juice (a favorite of Paisley’s when she needed comfort) later, the two sat on her bed and tried to take a break before rushing into the homework assigned. “How’s Terrie?” Paisley asked gently. If Stephen didn’t know any better, he would even say hesitantly.

“She’s okay,” he replied. “She isn’t perfect, but she’s feeling better, I think.”

Paisley bit her bottom lip, nodding with his statement. “Good. She just hasn’t been the same since my…”

Stephen hesitated to reply, knowing they were entering careful treading. “No one has.”

He heard her breathing hitch, knowing he had said the wrong thing in an instant. That wasn’t what he meant, and he needed to be precise with his follow up. “Those things affect everyone around.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered.

“What?”

“It’s my fault!” The words rushed out of her. “I was stupid. I was the one who went with him. I got drunk!” Her voice wobbled.

He looked at her in complete shock. “Paisley, it could never—” Unable to go on, Stephen was at a standstill. The gravity of her words were hitting him; he was completely at a loss for words. One look at her, however, and Stephen knew he had to keep going. He couldn’t be the same person who had watched her from afar in the hospital, weeks ago.

She couldn’t keep holding in the tears, though. Paisley had been holding them for too long, afraid to shed them. Everyone else was crying, so no one had time for her to do the same. They were crying because of her, so if Paisley wasn’t strong, who was going to be? The idea had seemed to important to her every time she wanted to cry before, but it was hard to keep them at bay now, especially in front of him.

“Can I cry?”

Stephen’s eyes rushed to look at her. Thick eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why she would ever need to ask that question. Gently, he sat down besides her. She sensed the shift in weight, Stephen watching as she shied away slightly. “Do whatever you need.”

It had to have been a cue, and Paisley must have been really holding them back because as soon as he gave some kind of permission, she was sobbing violently in to her hands. He watched her: the way she curled into herself and how her shoulders shook from the intensity. She looked alone — utterly alone.  And that wasn’t right, because when he had stepped into her life, she had been lively and had friends everywhere. He had even debated talking to her much, not willing to invest himself into the world she had created. Paisley was like a garden tender, and the beautiful florals she had arranged and grown through hard work were the people around her. But that world had completely withered away, and now she was here. And he was afraid to touch her, afraid of how she would react.

Alone, with only her guide dog and a misguided friend besides her.

Stephen frowned profusely. And then, he saw her hand moving down towards the bed and beginning to search for his. Taking his hand from it’s place out of his lap, he pushed it against the quilt on her bed and waited. She grabbed it without hesitation after finding it, and he held it tightly while the tears kept streaming down her face.

He hadn’t expected to walk in on such a similar scene a month later. Except, as soon as he did, Steve was looking up at the scientist. His face looked grim, and he glanced between Paisley and the new arrival before quickly standing up and pushing his way past Stephen.

The frail girl Stephen had learned to call a friend practically wailed from her spot on the bed, and when he looked back to see where the baseball star had gone — he found nothing.

“Go ahead!” She shrieked, shocking Stephen from his stare down the empty hallway. “Run away again!” He moved back to her, trying to piece together the situation he had just walked into. Willingly, no. But walked in all the less. Stephen knelt down in front of Paisley, daring to place his hand on her knee. She jerked away with a sharp gasp, but then recognized the hand.

“I’m sorry,” Paisley cried, her tone not as rough as it had been a few seconds earlier. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

[transcendencenyu]

terrie // you have to let go

“I’m resigning as your tutor,” Stephen said. Some part of me felt the same way I had when Bruce told me those words only weeks ago. Bruce had at least tried for a few months, but Stephen? I always thought he was someone who would never give up. I suppose that’s why I was just as shocked.

“I’ll fail if you leave,” I said. There wasn’t anything in my voice, because I knew that his mind was made up. I wasn’t arguing; I was just reminding him of what would occur because of his decision.

“You’re going to fail with or without me.” Here was a man of honesty, telling me everything I didn’t want to hear, and yet I couldn’t deny any of it. I had known for a while I was going to fail, but I had hoped someone would be able to change that. I had hoped it would be him. “You’re not a fool, but you’re foolish to think failing will do anything for you. You won’t change the past.”

I was so caught up in trying to prepare myself to let another person walk out of my life that his statement caught me off guard. He’d gotten me two times in a row. “What do you mean, Stephen?”

He seemed unamused. “It’s obvious you know a lot about Chemistry. You should have an A, but you choose to fail for whatever reasons you have.” There was a pause, as though he actually contemplated whether to keep information from me or not, but whatever it was that stopped him did not stop him for long. “And I’d say Oklahoma has a lot to do with it.”

Three times.

Now, here was something I hadn’t heard in a long time, it felt like. As far as I knew, the old me was gone and dead, living only in the nightmares of reliving every science class I ever took and a handful of pills to calm my nerves just thinking about experiencing it all over again. Why was I so afraid of Chemistry, like to the point where simply thinking about going to the class gave me anxiety and made me want to curse the day it became part of the general education courses? I guess a better question was, why was I still taking it? I hardly knew the answer myself, and yet I somehow felt as though Stephen did as well. At least, he would if he knew what had happened, what I’d done.

“Was it easy to find out?” I asked. For some reason, my priority was knowing whether or not someone like Paisley or Steve could find out. They were smart, but they weren’t Stephen smart. In all honesty, the only reason Paisley didn’t know very well could have been because she physically couldn’t search it up.

“If you know what to look up.” Of course, Stephen had. “It helped that I knew you used to go by your middle name.” I almost wanted to laugh, partly because I’d given myself up from day one to him, and partly because he’d remembered. It shouldn’t have been flattering, especially when he was the type of person to remember everything important, and he just proved that it was. Then again, maybe he just remembered.

I became silent, trying not to think about it, but something about the name Paige made me remember everything about the incident. That was when Stephen decided to leave me to my own devices, but I actually didn’t want to be alone, not this time. Impulse told me to spring up, stop him from leaving by whatever means necessary, and to my mind, that meant grab his hand and not even try to let go. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes met mine and something seemed to paralyze me, like I’d just forgotten how to move. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset or surprised, he was just.. Frozen like me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to laugh or cry or even try to defend myself. I was just so out in the open, so vulnerable, and something about having reached for his hands seemed to have made him vulnerable as well, just for that one moment. Despite what I wanted, I knew there was nothing I could do except let go.

So I did.

Steve left. He left Paisley and Bucky, and he left Lucky and Tony. He left me. I didn’t want to say I played some starring role in why he left, but something inside of me never let me forget the things I did that probably pushed him over the edge. Buck had snapped, and Steve decided to leave before any of us could see it happen to him. As for me, well, I didn’t know what to say. I’d snapped the moment I knew everything was real.

For a while, I tried to make it on my own. I started off by staying home more, but I still didn’t try talking with Paisley for very long. I wondered if she blamed me as much as I blamed myself, and knowing how Clint felt, I couldn’t deny the possibility. Maybe I saw myself in the position I was back in Oklahoma every time I looked at Paisley, and maybe that’s why I stopped looking at her, stopped looking at myself. Sleep was good, though. I slept a lot without Steve here.

Though not physically, Buck and Pai were no longer with me. For a while, I tried not to turn to anyone. Then, I realized how poor of a decision this was, and I turned to the only logical person left.

I’d failed Chemistry and was retaking it with Stephen’s help, but he suddenly became more than just my Chemistry tutor, and he suddenly became more than just a tutor. What I mean by that is I never seemed to focus like I did before, and I hardly focused then, so he constantly had to stop and ask me what was wrong, and that usually ended up with me revealing a bit too much about myself to him. Honestly, I felt so exposed and so raw that I couldn’t begin to care less about what parts of me he saw. He already knew what I’d deem my darkest secrets, so being honest with him was never easier. Still, he knew there was more than what I was letting on, and though it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure everything out, it still kept things from being completed. Every event that occurred before led up to this exact moment, where suddenly everything would be completed. I’d run out of things to tell him, and he’d know everything, down to the last theft I’d accomplished in the fourth grade (which was the teacher’s rare purple ball pen, by the way).

The smallest things were getting to me, and I thought I’d forgotten how to laugh. Stephen definitely never made me so much as giggle, but he made me smile. Not constantly, but he had his moments. And even though I’d told him everything, I still felt as though I knew nothing about him -- maybe because I didn’t -- and he was still just the stranger I’d met in the streets. I couldn’t tell if he even cared about me or what I was feeling, but I knew there had to be some sort of gain he was getting out of listening to me, otherwise he would have stopped me a long time ago. One day, I guess that got to me too. When he asked me what was wrong, I couldn’t even bother to explain. I just started crying.

“Terence,” Stephen said. He seemed confused, which was odd for someone like him, especially when it was obvious I cried when I wasn’t around him, almost did a few times when I was with him. It was clear that I wasn’t emotionally stable enough to keep myself going the whole time and that this day was inevitable and just horribly put off, so why would he be confused? Then, I understood. He was confused, because he realized what had put me over the edge, what broke me after I’d poorly picked myself back up after I left the hospital with Steve. He’d realized it was him who’d broken me, and he realized that because of everyone leaving me, I’d clung onto him, and even though Buck was starting to come back, and I could say full sentences to Paisley, and word was Steve wouldn’t be gone much longer, I was too afraid to let go of him. I was too afraid to let go and see he would never be holding onto me.

For once, I was the silent one, and I continued to cry, putting my face in my hands as though I could hide from him and pretend that I wasn’t hitting rock bottom again, that I wasn’t progressing backwards rather than forwards like everyone else, even though I tried so hard to be a better.. Terrie. I thought telling him everything would make it better; I thought relying on another human being again would make it better. Somehow, nothing changed. Well, almost nothing.

Stephen was never one for comforting, but I want to say he tried. He wasn’t pitying me or confused or annoyed, but he was aware of what he was doing. He was aware for the both of us, because I was crying too much to notice he’d taken my hands away from my face, and he was looking at me again the way he always looked at me when my hands were touching his, and for the first time in a long time, I felt relief. I felt like I could let go of everything I’d carried with me for the past three years. I felt like I could smile, and maybe even work up to a laugh later on. I felt secluded and yet surrounded by company and people I could care for without having to worry about, really, anything. I couldn’t say how, but Stephen freed me, and I was convinced he was the only one who ever could.