#if you squint you can see leon in the background too so
Note
I also have a small request if possible. I'm thinking of something with old Leon x single mother reader. Leon is moving to a new neighborhood for a while and his neighbor is reader. I was thinking that the reader's daughter (possibly 2-3 years old) would see him once and be crazy about him, screaming all day that she wants to touch his hair 🤭🤭. And Leon being... well, Leon doesn't know how to react, but he starts to like the little one and little by little falls in love with the reader. I was thinking damnation Leon (he deserves so much love ugh😔🤭). Further, I'll leave it up to you to develop the story as you want. Kissss 😘😘😘😘
P.S. I love your stories❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
⇁apple pie | leon kennedy
Post RE4 leon s. kennedy x single-mother!reader
there's a new person living in the house next door, and your daughter is incredibly excited to make a new friend. so, what better way to welcome him than with a pie?
content includes: strangers to friends (to lovers)?, leon trying to be normal and failing, who let this guy talk to women?, reader checks out leon oops!, reader is described as feminine-dressed, reader is called momma, reader and baby is implied to be of asian background oops sorry i am asian so this just happened very naturally and i am a slave to my brain + too lazy to change it
not proofread i am sleepy
2497 words
song rec: "love me" by elvis presley
this is written with Vendetta, Damnation, and ID! leon in mind. i recently hung out with my little niece, who is named mei, so i just decided to name the little one mei as well! hope you enjoy, anon ^w^
"Momma, momma!" you hear your little one yelp from the front yard. You look up from your dishes, confused and fearful that your precious daughter had injured herself. Peeping out the window right above your sink, you immediately spot your tiny child pointing to her right with a sparkling eyes, her chubby little fingers extending as far as they could. You cock your head questioningly as you walk towards the wide-open front door to check what she was trying to show you, your hands patting against the fabric of your dress as you stepped out onto your wrap-around porch.
Hiding behind the vines of your overhead plants, you squint between the leaves to try and get a look of what your daughter, Mei, was trying to show you. Slowly, you make out what seems to be a man fumbling with his keys. His cocoa coloured hair swayed as his clumsily handled his keys in front of his door, his jaw tightening as he grew increasingly frustrated with himself. You watch him curiously, unknowing of your little one stumbling across the yard and onto the porch the stranger stood at.
"W-what the-" you hear the man stutter, dropping his keys as he frantically looks down at his feet. You can feel the corners of your eyes crinkle as you try to get a better look from the vines of your precious plants, and you realize that Mei had found herself tugging at the man's pants. You gasp and trip your way over to the front of his house, shoeless with your apron practically falling off.
"Mei-Mei, you can't just run after strangers!" You grow embarrassed the closer you get to them. You stood just in front of the porch when you finally get a good look of the man.
Your cherub of a daughter is basically climbing the poor man at this point, jumping up and down at his feet as she bumbles out her baby-gibberish—things like "Hair! Hair!" and "Do you like pie? Hey, mister! Pie?" coming out in one long string of rambling. Quickly, you go up the small set of steps and pick up Mei by the waist, tucking her into yourself as you sheepishly apologize to the stranger.
"I-I am so so so so sorry, sir, I didn't realize she was so excited to see you," you stammer out, trying to contain the little babe that was trying to climb out of your arms.
The man in front of you is gorgeous, standing at six-feet-two with those heavy boots of his. His dark brown hair framed his face to accentuate the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the deep blue of eyes piercing through your body as if you were simply a window. He stood tall and stiff, chest slightly puffed out in his black leather jacket and white t-shirt combo. The denim jeans he wore did nothing to hide his legs, the bulge of his thighs almost giving you whiplash. His eyes lock onto yours, his plump lips slightly parted.
“It’s alright,” he grunts. “She’s just a kid,” the man nods at the cooing cherub in your arms, who was craning her body backwards with her arms stretched out in attempt to touch his hair.
“S-still, I should have been watching her. Sh-she isn’t normally so… uh…”
“Excited? It’s alright, ma’am,” he lets out a soft chuckle, his head shaking side-to-side. You feel a blush begin to dust over your cheeks, and begin to to step backward.
“Y-yeah, excited. Anyways,” you clear your throat. “I’m still sorry. I-if you need anything, I’m right next door!” You bow slightly before booking it back to your home, bare feet treading against the lawn connecting the houses together. You feel a bit guilty for not introducing yourself to him, but you were so embarrassed by Mei, you couldn’t help but run away.
“Momma, go back! Back!” Mei began to cry, her lip quivering as she looked over your shoulder. Her little arms reached for the stranger, who was watching from his porch.
The door shut behind you, and your daughter let the tears flow. Distraught, you set your little one down on the couch just a few steps away from the door and dragged your thumbs across the apples of her cheeks, asking her softly about what was wrong. Mei hiccuped and sniffled, snot smearing across her tiny lips as she cried.
“What’s wrong, Mei-Mei?” You frown, bringing your apron up to her flat little nose to wipe away the boogers. She trembles as you comfort her.
“I-I wanna touch his hair,” she sniffles, her tiny palms rubbing against her cheeks to wipe the tears. “Can we p-please see him again, Momma,” Mei’s frown deepens, and you feel your heart break at the sight.
“Mei-Mei, he’s a stranger. We can’t talk to strangers—especially not ones who don’t seem to want to talk to us,” you explain to the child. Tears continue to fall.
“B-but, Momma-“
“Mei-Mei,” you sigh tiredly, unable to resist your sweet daughter. “How about this—if you help me make it, we can bake a pie for the mister tomorrow and maybe we can see him again, okay?” Your daughter visibly perks up at this, the waterworks ceasing as she looks up at you with her sparkling eyes.
“Really!? Do you promise, Momma!?” She gasps, her chubby hands squeezing her cheeks with excitement. You nod at her with a gentle smile, and she jumps out of her spot on the couch, flailing around the living room like a wound-up puppy.
Mei wouldn’t stop talking about the man for the rest of the night.
"This one! Oh, oh, no, I meant... this one!"
"Sweetheart, these are too red. We need green ones."
"But... these are green, Momma?"
"Oh dear..." you sigh heavily, taking the Fuji apple out of Mei's hands and setting it in your cart. "Stay close to me okay, Mei-Mei?" You tug at the little cowlick on top of her head softly, making sure she understood to not run off. She let's out a little noise of understanding and keeps a tight fist on the end of your dress, trailing behind you as you searched for the greenest apples you could find.
The drive home from the grocery store was filled with questions you didn't know how to answer. Things like...
"Do you think the mister likes My Little Pony?"
"I wonder if mister has any pets. He looks like he has a chihuahua!"
"If mister had a cutie mark, what do you think it'd be, Momma?"
And other weird things a child would ask. You tried your best to answer each question, but everything just leaded to another awfully confusing query. As you pulled the car into the driveway, you notice the sexy motorbike in the new neighbour's own, the black finish shining beneath the morning sun. You get out of the car, helping Mei right after before grabbing the groceries from the trunk of your two-thousand-five Honda Accord.
You unlock the door of your sweet little home, pushing it wide open with a bump of your hip. Mei skips inside, a small toy of Fluttershy in her hand and a plastic bag containing her "element of harmony" (a single red delicious apple, which is apparently the "honesty" element, or something along that line) in the other. The door clicks shut behind you two, and you trip into the kitchen after you kick off your shoes. Setting the bags down on the counter, you sort out the groceries before calling for your little one.
"Mei-Mei! It's time to start baking, sweetie," you hear her clumsy feet tip-tap against the hardwood and smile brightly when her head peeps into the kitchen. Her honesty apple was clutched tight in her hands as she walked up to you giddily, excited to get to work. You pick her up and set her on top of the clear section of the counter.
You trust Mei with measuring the dry ingredients, with some supervision of course. Together, you make the pie crust and allow it to chill in the fridge as you make the filling. Mei is in the living room at this point, eyes glued to the television as she embarks on a friendship adventure with her pony friends.
Silently humming a nameless tune to yourself, you peel and core the small Granny Smith apples, dicing them into little cubes before setting them in a brown-sugar mixture. By noon, you had shaped the pies into the shape everyone knows them to be—apple shaped apple pies!
The delicate little balls were placed on the baking tray carefully, not wanting to ruin the perfect shape. You brushed the tops with an egg-yolk-and-water mixture before putting the cute pies into the oven, setting a timer for 15 minutes. Proud of yourself for cleaning up the generous mess in your beloved kitchen, you open up the window above the sink to let the air in.
While you lounged on the couch with your beloved little dumpling, you're unknowing to the man next door, tinkering away beneath his ebony Dodge Coronet 440. The scent of the sweet apple pie wafted to his nose, making him stop his repairs on his old model. Shaking his head, he tries to ignore the temptation to knock on his pretty neighbour's front door and ask for a slice.
The heat from the oven tickled your face as you carefully pulled the baking sheet out of the contraption, setting it down on the kitchen counter that was covered with a washcloth to avoid damaging the countertop. Mei watched you with a square-shaped tupperware in her chubby hands, eager to get the pie to the stranger next door.
You slide the oven-mittens off your hands and proudly look at your apple-apple-pies. Turning your attention to Mei, you pick her up so she can look too.
"Aren't they pretty, puddin'?" You coo. "You made these!" Mei claps her hands together happily, tupperware long forgotten with stars in her eyes as she beams at the sight of the apple-apple-pies.
"Can we take it to mister now?" the babe pratically vibrates in your grip with excitement. You nod at her and set her down on the floor, deciding to fish out a new tupperware box from one of your cabinets. When you find one of the proper size, you pack up one of the pies before you usher Mei out of the door after putting on your shoes, handing the container to her to carry.
Walking across the lawn, Mei immediately notices the open garage and makes a beeline towards the mass of legs beneath a black vintage car.
"Mister!! Mister!!!!" she practically yells, stomping over to the man beneath the car.
You can't help but admire the sight of the stranger. His thighs were practically ripping the denim of his jeans how tight they were on him, his white tank-top creeping up his stomach to reveal a small patch of hair just below his belly-button. With a grunt, he slides out from beneath the Dodge model, grease staining his entire upper body.
"Hey...?" He looks up at his from his spot on the ground, rubbing the stubble on his chin confused as he sits straight on the concrete.
"H-hi," you wave awkwardly, standing a safe distance away from him with Mei. You crouch down to your daughters level. "My daughter helped me make a pie for you as a little welcome gift. Go on, sweetheart," you pat her back softly, urging her to walk up to the newcomer. Like an excited puppy, Mei marches over to the handsome man, presenting the tupperware to him like a trophy.
"My momma put lotsa love into this, so you better like it, mister!" she demands, and the man chuckles softly at the order.
"I definitely will, kiddo. Apple pie's my favourite," he smiles gently before setting his sights on you. His blue eyes were illuminated perfectly by the sun as he looked over to you. "Thank you. My name's Leon, by the way. Uh, Leon Kennedy," he nods over at you as he takes the container from Mei's hands.
"O-oh, right! We didn't really introduce ourselves yesterday," you blush, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. You quickly introduce yourself and your daughter, stuttering all the while. It had been quite a long time since you had spoken to a man.
"Nice to meet you," Leon lets out a low laugh as he looks down at the pie. His eyes widen when he realizes it's shaped like an actual apple, but he makes no move to say anything as a twinge of pink crawls up his neck. "This looks... delicious," he drools, and you thank him for the compliment.
"Best eat it now! It's tastes the best when it's fresh," you smile, and he hums in response.
"U-uh, I think I'll eat it now, actually. Needed to take a break anywa-ngh—!" Mei slams her pudgy palm on top of Leon's mop of brown hair, causing the poor man to grunt. It didn't hurt, but it clearly caught him by surprise. You panic just like the day before and attempt to pull your cherub away from your neighbour, embarrassment filling your body.
"Mei-Mei! I told you that you can't just touch people like that!" You scold her lightly.
"Agh, don't yell at her—It's alright," the brunette assures you, standing up. His boots click against the concrete as he stands close.
"Please, excuse her, she's just very excited to have a new friend."
"Hey, hey—it's fine. Here," Leon ducks his head down enough for Mei to reach out. She turns her body in your arms, hands outstretching to thread into the man's hair. Unconsciously, you move closer to Leon as your daughter plays with his hair. The sight made your heart melt.
When Mei has her fill, Leon stands straight and gives you a warm smile. He has a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place, but you choose not to think about it.
"I, uhm..." you think of what to say, your eyes darting from each feature on his stubbly face. "We won't bother you now. I-if you need, something, we'll be a knock away!" you nervously ramble, slowly backing away from the gentleman.
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," he coughs out, a dust of pink brushing the tip of nose. Leon watches as you turn your back to him, wiggling his fingers at the little one that waved at him from your shoulders. He walks over to the tupperware sitting on the floor of his garage after you walk into your house, entering his own with the pie in his hands.
You don't know about how the tupperware was licked clean, not even a crumb of the crust to be seen as the container is left on Leon's dining table. The next day, a knock on your door distracts you from your dishwashing.
He wasn't lying about apple pie being his favourite.
yeah im definitely going to turn this into a fic series or something i love domestic fluff i am so normal about dilf leon IM MAKING THIS HAPPEN
#resident evil#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#resident evil/biohazard#fanfic#resident evil 4 remake#biohazard#>>letter responses#resident evil: damnation#resident evil: infinite darkness#infinite darkness leon kennedy#damnation leon kennedy#domestic fluff#leon kennedy x reader fluff
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ACBA, part 1.
Assigned Candy by Aisling (@dungeons-and-dragon-age I laughed so hard at this.)
There were some requests for OCs and I'll oblige…
Under the cut for lenght, but still.
(Again if you're a mutual send words and you'll have your OCs some candies assigned to)
@dungeons-and-dragon-age: Lay, I will do the ones I'm most familiar with for now!
Adriel: A lemon hard candy. It's sour, you can't eat it quick because it's hard to crack, you have to keep it there… But oh damn, sweetened lemon? Yes, acquire the taste and go on.
Liam: Rum and Raisin ritter sport chocolate. It's wholesome and will get you going if your pressure gets low, it's warm and homey. Yes raisins aren't everyone's taste, but with rum they just taste so good!
June: Frizzy Pazzy. (Crazy Fizz?) This I have a hard time remembering the name in English. It's one of those envelopes that contains grains that just… Fizz when you eat them. They're sour and you can't eat too much at once because they will explode. But it's one of the funniest candies around and it's science.
Ari: 90% chocolate. It's dark and slightly bitter, most people won't approach because they'll think it's too bitter… It's actually the one chocolate that will be the most beneficial, won't hurt your teeth, once you get used to the bitterness you won't go back to milk chocolate.
@shivunin I hope I got them right!
Arianwen: after longs consideration and at least a whole day spent with Aisling following Wen around squinting, very very deep in thought Vampire teeth gummies. Aisling will tell you that she can't pinpoint it, but she thought of those and can't find anything that fits better. It seems fierce and not friendly but if you taste it it's really sweet. Add a Zevran in the background because I have the feeling that this scene would be funnier with him around to assist.
Maria: I think she would be a little indecisive. Chocolate, but flavoured either with chilli, or with salt. Some unusual combination that you won't often find or go for… But it's peculiar, it's surprisingly delicious, and you will remember forever of the time you ate it. (if we can space to cakes, the answer will be clearer: "A red velvet cupcake. Come on it looks just like her dress! With the lace!")
Elowen: Strawberries dunk in chocolate. Fruity and tangy, very sweet, but countered by the hard and the warmth of the chocolate. Something unassuming that you have to cook at home… But oh damn they're good. (it's meant as a compliment, Aisling would like Elowen a lot)
Emmaera: Parma Violet. I wanted something flowery for her, possibly with lavender. I admit my personal lack: I just hate lavender as a flavour in food and I don't know any lavender flavoured sweets... And none I found had a story as the Parma Violet has. It's a typical candy from where my family comes from: it's balmy and it's very flowery, violet are known for their calming properties as well, and as an essence it has a long story that goes back to the Duchess Maria Luigia d'Austria, very well-loved in the town and who loved the Violets so much she made it the trendiest perfume... That eventually slipped in the kitchen and in candies.
Salshira: Cinnamon candies. I have a precise brand in mind, the Leone pills. They're… VERY intense in flavour. But if they're your jam and the flavour isn't too much? They'll go down one after the other in quick sequence, they're warm and cozy.
@ndostairlyrium you're here too.
Elanor: Confetti. Those you find at weddings. It's something you don't find every day and it has a level of formality and noblety… They're the harder candies to eat, tackle them too quickly and they'll crack your tooth. But give them patience, wait a little and oh damn, they're SWEET and homey and really the bombonniere is already empty? :(
Kerry: See I was about to assign him the Frizzy Pazzy and not June. But then I thought better and thought that for Kerry, the Frizzy Pazzy lack a level of sweetness and homeyness that Kerry has.
I'd say candied orange peels dunk in chocolate (again, coming from Aisling that's the ultimate compliment, anything citrus assigned must be worn with pride.). It's homey, they're not the prettiest candy on the market, not the one you'll link with something refined… And yet. And yet! Instant love they're tangy and sweet and fresh and sour and they'll just make you smile and taste like Christmas.
Ankh: Pocket Coffee. A sweet shell of chocolate that will melt in your mouth and explode in coffee. It's sweet, but it will most definitely give you a burst of energy to get through the day. It's the mix between sweetness and energy that's it, the one thing that will keep you going when you'd just want to lie down and sleep. You can rely on your pocket coffee in a rainy day.
Shaan: Ricola. Herbal candies that… That you have to like or to wait until the flavour grows on you. But! They'll save you from a throatache or if your voice is low. Can't lose a work day because you're sick with those!
#friends' oc#shivunin#dungeons and dragon age#ndostairlyrium#this assigning candies is fun#but it also makes me terribly hungry#and I'm now blasting Chitty Chitty Bang Bang#candinquisition
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Memories - Dad!Leone Abbacchio x Reader
Here's an angsty fic I'm still writing on ao3! Below is just the first chapter, which can be read as a standalone, but the full thing can be read on ao3 (3 chapters so far).
Ao3 link
If you would like to support me, please consider donating on Ko-Fi or commissioning me👉🏿👈🏿
♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤
The golden coat of the afternoon sun doused the room in a warm shade as you hummed a familiar tune peacefully to yourself.
Leone sighed calmly as he sunk deeper into the warmth of your body, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your form. Sleep was tugging at his eyes and the lullaby of your voice was pulling him even further.
"Leone?" You whispered, lightly massaging his scalp under his thick wavy hair.
"Hm?" He mumbled, the drowsiness in his voice barely hidden as he looked up from your chest.
��
The sight of his lazy sunset eyes and the clear tiredness in them made you chuckle.
"Y'know if you want to sleep you should, don't force yourself to stay up." You kissed his forehead softly before stroking his hair. "You haven't been sleeping so well Leone, please rest a little." It became routine for Abbacchio to toss and turn all night in a failed attempt to fall asleep, sometimes accompanied by him trekking downstairs for a lonesome midnight drink to burn his throat, only for him to finally grasp that sweet bliss of sleep a few moments before sunrise where he had more duties in the day to fulfil. Some nights you would wake up too, and try your best to coax him back to the bedroom where you would hug and tend to him until he managed to drift off. Thankfully anytime you stepped in to help, insomnia was no longer a thing to him.
The dark bags under his eyes were gnawing away at his youthful expression and quite frankly you couldn't blame him. With all that happened so recently, how he was only just finding his feet once more (though you weren't overly thrilled initially at the thought of him following Passione) but still being plagued with his past, his days seemed longer and nights shorter.
Seeing him get tired brought a sense of relief that he had passed his limit and needed a reset.
"Yeah...I will." He traced circles on your side with his thumb. "Just promise me you'll stay here with me." He whispered.
These past couple of days, Abbacchio had been more attached to you, both physically and emotionally. He wouldn't want to sleep if you weren't there, he would wait until you were hungry before he ate, he cuddled and asked you for more affection as his need for intimacy grew. You were the only thing keeping him stable, the only person he felt safe around. At first, he was worried you found him clingy and annoying, but you reassured him that you were grateful for this time together, especially as his new line of work kept him busier and on edge.
"Leone..." You cupped his cheek and grazed his cheekbone lightly with your thumb. "Of course I'll stay here with you." Your voice was like sweet caramel soothing his mind and soul. You leaned forward to kiss the top of his head as he slid under the thick cotton covers. "Sleep well mio amore."
Abbacchio's eyes snapped open in shock as he felt what resembled his throat closing as stray tears streaked down his cheeks.
Another dream.
Another bittersweet memory.
He wasn't lying with you in the warm afternoon sun as you lulled him to sleep, rather he had fallen asleep alone in the darkness of the sitting room while the static from the television whirred in the background, almost blinding him as he tried to adjust to the colour. He squinted at his phone as the time read "3:47 am" and he attempted to stand up from his awkward position on the sofa.
He noticed Olivia fast asleep in her blue baby seat with her pacifier in her mouth, fidgeting slightly as her eyelashes fluttered.
Abbacchio stretched out his back, walked over to the seat and carefully carried her out, trying to not wake her. She stirred before resting her head on his shoulder peacefully and wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I didn't mean to leave you here bella I'm so sorry." The tears in his eyes hadn't stopped, especially now that he had set his eyes on his daughter who bore such resemblance to the woman he lost just a couple of months prior. The only thing keeping him sane was the existence of this small, beautiful girl who managed to fill an extent of the hole in his heart.
The first week you had gone, he couldn't take care of her. He couldn't look at her, feed her, bathe her, rather Trish would take care of her for him. It hurt too much, losing you and being a failing father. It was only just a week ago that he began taking care of her fully during the day and night.
But if it wasn't for her, he would've turned this house upside down in pure anger and despair and there would be empty bottles littered around as opposed to just stray toys. He was able to better himself because he knew he needed to be good enough to parent a child, to take on both roles and be as good as you were. Not that he ever thought he could.
After all, you would never leave her downstairs with the TV blaring.
He had contemplated moving her cot to his room to make things easier as he was the only one taking care of her, but he would rather not have his infant daughter see how distraught and restless her father was. So during the day, she would stay in the room with him, but at night he would remain alone.
He walked into his room and pressed his back against the door, everything was so bleak now, so empty and emotionless without you. The floorboards seemed to creak more, the lights dimmer, the bedsheets, cold, crisp and void of any scent, no smell of breakfast, perfume, passion, just nothing.
"March 27th, 10 pm." He mumbled as he changed into his nightwear with his back facing the bed, finally wearing a new set as the previous had been stuffed with tears, vomit and alcohol.
He turned around to see your sleeping form under the covers, hair tied up neatly but with stray strands across your forehead. You wore that same cream coloured maternity nightgown you kept because of the comfort it brought you.
He had convinced himself that he wasn't in denial by doing this, that rather, it was for Olivia's and his benefit that he would call out his stand at random hours in the day. He would tell himself that he was doing it solely because he wanted Olivia to remember your face, or because it helped him sleep better. Give any reason except the truth, that he didn't want to accept that you were gone.
He opened your wardrobe and the fresh scent of flowers wafted into his nose. He made sure to clean your clothes regularly, using only the products you used on them to retain somewhat your natural scent. Moody Blues was usually cold when replaying, seeing as it had no blood flowing through it, so he would have to layer shirts, sweaters, scarves on it to mimic natural body heat anytime he replayed you.
He pulled the black sweater over your head before sliding into the bed with you.
"Mia amore." He hugged your doppelganger, pushing its head into his chest. He cried softly into the thick material as he listened to your quiet snores. "I wish...I wish there was a way to bring you back." He choked on his words as he kissed your face. He would do anything, even if it meant selling his soul, he would do it to be back with you, to have the real you.
For now, this would have to do.
#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#leone abbacchio#abbacchio#leone abbacchio x reader#abbacchio x reader#angst#mourning#multi-chap#multi chapter fanfiction#dad abbacchio
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hey, lovies! i’ve been so excited to post this fic because i am in love with Harry and Jules and i hope you will be too (and excuse the lousy banner i just wanted to have something lol)! this is a part of @1dffchallenges’s valentine’s day challenge, so i hope you enjoy reading it and happy valentine’s day, it’s all about spreading love around so here is some love from me to all of you ❤️
a special thank you to @fireproofrry @bodejacketharry @strawberryystyles for beta reading and giving feedback, you are absolute angels <3
word count: 7.7k
warnings: none!
challenge prompt and dialogue: strangers alone on valentine’s day + “I’m allergic to chocolate. And roses.”
It’s official, valentine’s day is the worst.
At least that’s what Jules thought as she adjusted herself on the bar stool, trying to get into a comfortable position while she waited for her drink to be served.
It wasn’t in Jules’ agenda to spend what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year alone at a bar ten minutes away from her apartment. If she was still with Leon, they would have been having a nice dinner somewhere, laughing over whatever funny story one of them had to share about their day at the company.
But alas, Leon was someone else’s now and Jules was only left with her own company.
Truth be told, though, Jules never minded being alone, in fact, she enjoyed being by herself because people were simply exhausting.
But being alone and being lonely were too completely different things, and Jules hated feeling lonely.
And valentine’s day only made that worse. Seeing loved up couples around her, flashes of red and pink everywhere she glanced, hearing cheesy love songs blasting through the speakers of the shops she passed by. Everything about valentine’s day just seemed to remind her of her lonely status.
Instead of staying at her apartment all night long doing nothing but watching rom coms and feeling sorry for herself, Jules thought of a better alternative, which was to get pissed drunk. So when she got up in the morning to go to work (because even on valentine’s day duty calls), she put on her favourite black dress, one that was sleeveless and had a deep v-neckline, and put on enough makeup to feel confident in the way she looked before pulling on her coat and venturing into the cold streets of London.
If she was going to get pathetically drunk by herself at a bar after work whilst everyone else was being all lovey dovey, then she would look hot doing it.
The sound of a glass coming in contact with the wooden surface broke her out of her reverie and she glanced up, finding that the bartender had placed her drink in front of her and he was beaming at her. “There you go, love, happy valentine’s day.”
After squinting at the name tag (she’s never seen him here before, he must be new), Jules forced herself to return his smile and lifted her glass. “Cheers, Jonah.”
Poor guy must have thought she was waiting for a date or something. Too bad, no one was going to be joining Jules on this fine evening. Just me, myself, and I.
Setting her glass back on the counter after taking a big gulp, Jules scowled as she was reminded of the items she had received earlier in the day. For some reason, Leon thought it was a good idea to give her a box of chocolates and a rose, even though they were no longer together and he had another woman by his side.
She appreciated the thought behind it, he probably just wanted to be nice or maybe he felt guilty, but his gift was staring at her, almost laughing at her misery and she wasn’t having it.
That is why she instantly asked Jonah for a fork, which caused him to send her a confused look but he complied nonetheless, and she proceeded to stab the pieces of chocolate placed perfectly in the box, taking out her frustration on the sweets.
Once satisfied, she dropped the fork with a clunk and heaved out a sigh, lazily resting her chin in her right hand before looking back at Jonah. He was staring at her with wide eyes as he dried off some shot glasses, surely thinking that she was a lunatic, but Jules just flashed him a sweet smile and shifted her eyes back to the chocolates she had just assaulted.
Poor chocolate, but oh well.
“Are you alright there?”
“What the fuc-“ The sudden voice caused her to jump in her seat and she almost fell off the bar stool if it weren’t for the hand that magically materialised behind her, holding her steady.
Before she had a chance to slap the hand off her back, the stranger retracted it and returned to his seat and she had the chance to take a proper look at him.
The man stared back at her with concerned eyes, a stool separating the two of them, but he was still not that far away from her. Jules wondered when he had gotten there because she certainly didn’t feel him arrive. Perhaps it was during her chocolate rampage.
What really surprised her though, more than his sudden appearance, was the fact that she knew who he was. In fact, she believed everyone knew the man sitting beside her because it was none other than Harry Styles.
Many questions ran through Jules’ head, the most important being what on earth was a guy like him doing at this bar on valentine’s day? Jules never believed in the image the media painted of him, but surely he has something better to do than be here, all by himself it seems?
As big of a fan as she was, the fact that he was right before her didn’t faze Jules all that much, her mind was more preoccupied by other matters. So, she ended up doing what she would’ve done if it was any other person: she glared at him and wordlessly turned back in her seat, pretending as if he wasn’t there.
He didn’t seem to take the hint.
“You were quite aggressive with the chocolate there.” His deep voice floated in the empty bar as he pointed at the box in front of her.
Jules inhaled deeply before responding in a flat tone. “I’m allergic to chocolate.” Glaring at the single rose lying beside the box, she grabbed it and tossed it on the floor beneath her, silently cursing Leon once more. “And roses.”
She felt guilty for littering, but she’d pick it up when she leaves. Eventually.
“Are you really?” The man beside her questioned, leaning forward in his seat, his body completely turned towards her at this point. She could tell from her tone that he was skeptical of her supposed allergies and she honestly couldn’t blame him.
“No,” she found herself shaking her head, signalling for Jonah to get her another drink, still keeping her body facing forward and only glancing at him from her peripheral vision, “I’m just fucking with you.”
To her surprise, he let out a small laugh, not seeming to be upset. Jules couldn’t help but turn her head a bit to look at him, finding a dimpled smile on his and she wondered what was wrong with this guy.
“May I ask why you were stabbing the poor sweets then?”
Figuring she should just put him out of his misery and answer his question, Jules huffed and crossed her legs, not missing the way his gaze flickered down for a split second before returning to her face. She ignored it and sighed, “Well if you must know, my ex gave them to me this morning.”
“Trying to get you to take him back?”
“Oh god no,” Jules laughed at the notion, her hand waving off his wrong assumption, “he’s as happy as can be with his new girlfriend.”
The blatant confusion on his face prompted her to provide more explanation.
“We broke up a couple of months ago, he left me for someone else. So he probably just felt guilty.”
“He left you for someone else? And before the holidays?” When she nodded in confirmation, he shook his head with a frown. “Bastard.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Valentine’s day just sucks, it’s just a reminder of how lonely you are,” she muttered with bitterness, “Of how lonely I am.”
“Well if it’s any consolation,” Harry said, pausing to ask the bartender for another drink, “I’m lonely tonight too.”
“Well, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be here getting drunk on your own.” With a few drinks already in her system, Jules practically had no filter whatsoever (not that she really had one in the first place).
“Touché,” he clicked his tongue, then leaned back to chug down the rest of his glass. Jules was almost concerned by how quickly he downed his drink, but she’s not in a position to talk, after all, she’d been doing the same. “But I’m not getting drunk on my own now, am I? You’re right here.”
She scoffed, eyebrows raising at his words. “Who said I’m keeping you company? Or that I’m not leaving any second now?”
“I don’t think you are.” He responded with much conviction that it almost threw Jules off.
“You think too confidently about a stranger you just met.”
“Let’s fix the strangers part then, shall we? I’m Harry.” He extended his ring-clad hand and Jules noticed a coat of red nail polish on his fingers. How ironic.
She sighed before deciding to entertain him, grabbing a firm hold of his surprisingly warm hand. Maybe she’ll allow him to keep her company tonight. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave her alone anyway.
“Jules.” She simply responded before turning back to her drink, swirling the pink straw around. She made a mental note to thank Jonah later for the cute straw.
“Jules” Harry repeated, as if testing the name on his lips and Jules would be lying if she said that she didn’t like the way it rolled off his tongue. “Is that a nickname for Julie? Julia? Short for Juliann-“
“Juliet. It’s Juliet.” She interrupted his ridiculous ramble. He surely was inquisitive. And did she really look like a Julianne?
“Huh,” he hummed, gliding a finger over the rim of his glass, staying silent for a few seconds and Jules thought he was maybe done for the night.
She thought wrong, it seems.
“Oh, Juliet, oh, Juliet, where art thou, Juliet?” He dramatically recited, voice going deeper as he stared upwards at a spot over the bar. Simply put, Jules thought he looked ridiculous.
She could hear Jonah snickering in the background.
“It’s where art thou, Romeo, but nice try.” She rolled her eyes in response to his theatrics. Almost everyone she’s ever encountered has commented on her name and made a reference to the infamous Shakespearean tragedy that she’s never been too fond of. It’s why she mostly went by Jules.
No one’s ever recited that line though, however wrong it was. That was a first.
“I knew that,” the curly-haired man mumbled beside her, swirling his glass and watching the ice cubes swim around, “was just joking, geez, tough crowd.”
Jules couldn’t help but roll her eyes again in response. That joke got old a long time ago.
She’s beginning to regret coming to this bar tonight. Maybe she should’ve just headed straight home and cuddled into her blankets.
“It’s pretty, though,” he added a few moments later, “beautiful name for a beautiful woman”
No way. She huffed, spinning in her seat to face him once again. “That’s your line? Tell me, Mr. Rockstar, has that really worked on anyone before?”
She could tell he was a bit surprised but tried to hide it; unluckily for him, Jules was a very observant person, hardly anything passed her.
“I-I didn’t mean it like that-“
She interrupted him again and leaned in closer, resting her elbow on the countertop and raised an eyebrow. His eyes flickered for a fleeting second to the charm bracelet adorning her wrist. “So you don’t think my name’s beautiful? Or that I’m beautiful? Sheesh, Harry, you’re not looking good here.”
Harry spluttered, staring at her with eyes blown wide in panic and Jules almost felt bad for messing with him; it was just hard not to, she was lonely and he was right there annoying her with his lousy jokes, so he has the unfortunate fate of being her victim tonight (and truthfully, he brought it on himself). And if she was being honest, messing with Harry Styles was just too entertaining of an opportunity for her to pass on.
To be fair, she was a little annoyed by his presence in the beginning, having originally planned to wallow in her misery all by herself, but now she’s having fun. She might just enjoy her time with him.
“No- no of course I think you’re beautiful, y-your name too,” he responded in clear panic, seemingly trying to figure out how he can redeem himself. Jules’ attention was momentarily caught by the way his rings glimmered under the light as he flexed his fingers, still fumbling for a response. “I was just-“
“Styles,” she interrupted him, yet again, with a light-hearted laugh and shook her head, hair falling forward on her shoulders, “Relax, was just messing with you.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed and he heaved out a sigh of relief; his eyes then narrowed and he lifted his hand, pointer finger wagging in her direction. “You really like messing with people, huh? Not very nice of you.”
“Made you sweat, no? Was just having fun. I can now say that I’ve made the infamous Harry Styles stumble over his words. How much do you think they’ll pay me for that hot gossip? Reckon it would be a lot.” She said as she turned back in her seat, now facing the bar once again, but she knew he caught the smirk on her face and the teasing lilt in her tone.
Coming to the bar was definitely a good decision.
Harry felt like a proper idiot.
Here he was, sitting at a pub with a lovely woman that clearly didn’t want to be bothered, yet he had to fuck things up and be a git.
And the Juliet bit? Harry had never been more embarrassed, he didn’t know what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. He made sure to remind himself that he wasn’t that funny and should just stop trying to be. You’re making a fucking fool of yourself.
In spite of his rather embarrassing advances, Harry found himself enjoying Jules’ company immensely, even if she had barely looked his way when he had arrived at his spot.
She might’ve looked irritated by his insistent attempts to start a conversation with her in the beginning, but from the way her body has been facing him for the past half an hour and the smile or two she’d thrown his way, Harry had a feeling she was warming up to him.
He discovered that she was an accountant, which thoroughly surprised him because she didn’t seem like one. Harry doesn’t like to judge a book by its cover, but Jules definitely didn’t scream accountant, more like a Greek goddess or something. Her black dress hugged her body in a way that almost made Harry dizzy; he had noticed her the second he walked into the nearly empty pub – and before he could even think about it, he found his legs carrying him in her direction (he was already headed to the bar anyway, or so he told himself).
Admittedly, the way she was stabbing the chocolates had him fearing for his life for a split second, but Harry brushed it off and figured she just wasn’t a fan of valentine’s day, if her apparent disdain for the sweets and the rose before her was any indication.
He was also surprised to learn that she’d moved here from America about five years ago and this pub was one she often frequented, yet Harry had never run into her somehow despite coming here a lot and living not too far himself.
He’s glad their paths have finally crossed tonight, though.
That being said, Jules was definitely keeping him on his toes. He never knew what she was going to say next, and she certainly did not hold back from saying exactly what was on her mind.
Harry found himself liking that about her, even if her forwardness came at his expense sometimes (he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it). Oftentimes, people acted cautious around him and treated him differently just because of his status. Not Jules, though.
But now he could tell that she had something on her mind, from the way she looked at him then shifted her eyes elsewhere a second later.
“What is it?” He questioned, deciding to put her out of her fidgety state. He wasn’t sure what was holding her back, she certainly had no problem handing his ass to him earlier.
“It’s just,” she started, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, the movement catching Harry attention for a second before he reminded himself to be respectful, “what are you doing here by yourself tonight? I find it hard to believe that someone like you doesn’t have anyone to hang around on a day like this.”
Someone like him? Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not sure what she was implying with her words but he didn’t believe she meant it in a negative manner necessarily.
“That came out wrong, I didn’t mean anything like that,” she quickly defended, face becoming redder by the second and Harry was a little endeared by the sight. The woman before him was confident all throughout their conversation, having no fear in expressing her thoughts, yet now she was the flustered one. And Harry couldn’t help but enjoy it.
Time to give her a taste of her own medicine.
“What, thought someone like me had a flock of women at their beck and call and that I’d be off with one or some of them tonight?”
He gave her a blank look afterwards, pretending that he found offence in her words and he almost blew his cover at the way her face visibly fell.
“N-no!” she exclaimed, voice rising a few octaves and Harry could see the bartender, Jonah, suddenly flinch behind her from the sound. He pressed his lips together to silence the chuckle that threatened to escape and continued to stare Jules down.
“Of course I didn’t mean it like that,” she added in a much calmer tone, though Harry could detect that panic lacing her voice and he was starting to feel guilty. “I never believed that you were like that, I just,” she paused, averting her gaze away and staring at the lights above them instead, “never mind, just ignore me.”
Harry figured that she already knew of who he was and his status, and despite having just met her, the fact that she just said she doesn’t believe the rumours about him filled him with inexplicable warmth and he had to remind himself again that he’d only just met this woman. He shouldn’t feel anything of the sort towards her.
He could tell by the way her eyebrows were furrowed that she felt bad about what she’d said, so Harry called out her name and waited for her to look at him again.
When she did, her face holding an apprehensive look, he smiled at her and leaned a bit closer, which made little difference because there was still some space separating them.
“I was just messing with you, Jules,” he reached forward and flicked her nose, causing her to instinctively scrunch her face in a cute manner that had Harry’s stomach fluttering. “Doesn’t feel that nice now, does it?”
Jules chuckled in disbelief, wide eyes staring back at him and a smile was slowly stretching on her lips. “Touché. I see how it is then.”
Harry just shrugged, his own lips twitching as another smile threatened to appear. “Just having some fun, eh?”
Jules was now beaming at him and if Harry was standing, he was certain that his knees would’ve buckled at the sight. He already knew that Jules was gorgeous, and he was sure anyone would agree with him, but when as she smiled at him like that, eyes shining bright under the warm orange lights, brown hair cascading loosely yet somehow perfectly on her shoulders, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that there was an angel sitting before him.
“Truce then?”
Her voice brought him back to earth and Harry chuckled before he shook her outstretched hand, marvelling for a moment at the way it felt enveloped in his. “Truce.”
“But to answer your question,” Harry said after a few beats of silence, glancing at her to find her eyes already set on him. “I didn’t have anything planned, haven’t been on many dates recently to be honest, so I just figured I’d come here and spend time with my good friend,” he lifted his drink with a wide grin on his face, “alcohol, the one thing that never let me down.”
Jules threw her head back in a laugh, the sound being music to Harry’s ears and he wished he could record it just to hear it again and again. “Amen to that.”
The two clinked their glasses together, laughing stupidly for no reason, before they threw their heads back to drink.
“Another round, then?”
Jonah suddenly appeared in front of them, startling Harry a bit. Sometimes he forgot that the man was lingering around behind the bar.
Jules took the liberty to respond for the both of them, exclaiming a “hell yeah, buddy!” that had the two men laughing, and soon enough their glasses were refilled.
After taking a sip, Harry leaned his head on the palm of his hand and set his eyes on Jules again, “So, are you a fan? Of me or of the band?”
He had to ask, he couldn’t help but wonder. If she was indeed a fan, she certainly didn’t show it.
Jules shrugged, playing nonchalant it seemed, but it didn’t escape him the way her cheeks seemed to redden. “Eh, I dabble. You’re alright.”
Her response made him chuckle. “Good to know.” Call him a narcissist, but he really wanted to know whether or not she liked his music. Perhaps he’ll inquire further later.
Because Harry knows that there’s no way he’s letting Jules go anytime soon.
Getting to know Harry was fun.
Sometime during the night, Harry had migrated from his seat onto the bar stool beside her, their thighs brushing against each other every now and then.
Tapping his fingers around his glass, Harry’s rings clinked against it and Jules couldn’t help but be slightly captivated by the action. She wasn’t one to stare at anyone’s hands, but she had to admit that Harry’s were fascinating to look at; his long and slender fingers, adorned by a number of his infamous rings, were truly a sight to see.
She took the chance to also admire his outfit, something she was too busy to do earlier on. His coat was long discarded on the stool beside him, which allowed her eyes to run over his figure. His upper body was covered by a plain white t-shirt with the word “Sex” displayed on his chest, a pair of pair of wide-legged black pants covering his long limbs; it was a simple fit yet it made it difficult for Jules to take her eyes off him. And his hair just looked so soft that her fingers were begging her to touch the fallen strands on his forehead.
Hearing Harry clear his throat broke her out of her trance and Jules realised from the smirk that stretched on his lips that she’d been caught in the act.
She tried playing it off, as if she hadn’t been shamelessly checking him out for the last couple of minutes and smoothed her hands down her dress, adjusting in her seat because honestly, her butt was starting to ache.
But she didn’t want to leave just yet.
Seeming to notice her discomfort, however, Harry downed the last bit of his drink before setting his glass down with a smack, causing Jonah, who was still lingering around them, to shoot Harry a warning glance and a low “careful!”, to which Harry smiled sheepishly before turning to face her again.
“Want to get out of here?”
Jules’ eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, having not expected him to want to continue spending the night with her.
“Sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?” She couldn’t help but question, still struggling to grasp the fact that he still wanted to be around her. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her dress, eyes staring into his emerald ones as she waited to hear his response.
Truth be told, she was enjoying his company far much more than she had anticipated and she didn’t want to part from him just yet.
To her relief, a dimpled smile adorned Harry’s face as he took in her words before he shook his head, “Trust me, Jules, there’s no one else I’d rather be with tonight.”
She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat at that.
The two got up from their seats after thanking Jonah and fighting over who’s paying because Harry insisted on paying for her drinks. As she was gathering her things, she felt Harry’s presence behind her and she realised, after looking at him over her shoulders, that he was holding her coat up for her.
Heat rushed into her cheeks at the gesture, finding it sweet that he was helping her when he didn’t really have to. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning to him with a smile after feeling him adjust her hair.
His only response was a faint “No need” and he quickly turned to shrug on his own coat, the bashful smile on his lips not going unnoticed by her.
Flashing Jonah another smile, Harry extended his arm towards her and nodded his head towards the exit. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
The two stepped into the night, the biting London air hitting Jules’ cheeks immediately and she was positive her nose was already red from the cold.
Jules reached into her pocket to grab her phone, realising that she hasn’t checked the device since she walked into the bar. There weren’t any notifications that she missed, which wasn’t surprising since her friends (all four of them) were out on dates or staying at home with their partners, so she was sure no one was thinking of her at the moment.
Noticing that it was already 8 in the evening and they were aimlessly walking down the street, Jules turned to Harry with a questioning gaze. “Where are we going?”
Leaning his head down to look at her (or perhaps to be closer, Jules wasn’t sure), he paused, seeming to think, before shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno if I’m quite honest.”
Jules found herself chuckling at him. How did her day end with her walking around with no purpose with a man she’d just met?
She looked at the sign closest to them before she turned to him and did something she rarely ever did. She found herself inviting him to her apartment because they were quite close.
A smirk found its way onto Harry’s lips and she started to regret her decision. “Already trying to get me into your bed, Juliet?”
She mentally cursed at the way her heart leaped upon hearing her name roll off his tongue. Almost no one called her Juliet anymore, except for her parents when they were being serious, but she found herself wanting to hear him say her name over and over again.
Shaking her head at the thought, Jules reached her arm out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Oh come off it, you idiot. You can just go ahead and cry alone in your mansion if you want.”
Harry raised his hands in surrender and muttered an apology, although the smile lingered on his lips and Jules tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her chest.
“Lead the way, then.”
“Make yourself at home, I’ll get us something to drink.”
The walk to her apartment was full of smiles and laughter. She’s come to the conclusion that Harry loves making people laugh, even if his jokes were actually awful, but she found it endearing; he was like a ray of sunshine bringing joy to those around him.
She was glad that she had cleaned up the place a couple of days ago, it would’ve been embarrassing to have someone over to see pyjamas and junk strewn over her furniture. Suffice to say, Jules was a bit of a mess around the house.
After hanging up her coat and Harry’s, she made her way into her kitchen and looked for the good wine she reserved for special occasions. She easily grabbed it, along with two glasses, but then Jules found herself lingering by the kitchen island.
It dawned on her that there was a man in her living room, and he wasn’t just anyone. This was Harry Styles, someone she’d long admired and holy shit was this really happening?
And as sad as it may sound, she’s never felt this connection with anyone before, never felt like the person before her got her and could keep up with her. Yet with Harry, it felt different, and that scared her because she’d only just met him a couple of hours ago.
And he was bound to forget all about her after tonight. He’s just looking for some company, and Jules didn’t think she was that special. Eventually, he’s going to leave. Just like everyone else.
Feeling like the black marble of the island was starting to swirl in her vision, Jules snapped out of her thoughts and sucked in a deep breath before moving back towards the living room.
Harry had his hands interlocked behind his back, perusing through her record collection and it made her inadvertently smile. She was proud of her vast collection of vinyl records, a good portion of them handed down to her by her father; they both had a deep appreciation for records that her mum often made fun of them for.
“Found anything you like?” He jolted at her voice, not having noticed her presence behind him, but then his shoulders immediately relaxed.
Turning towards her with a wide grin, Harry gestured to the shelf behind him. Jules liked the way he seemed to glow underneath the dim lights and she wished she could take a picture of this moment as a keepsake. “This is amazing, there are records here that I couldn’t even find.”
“You can thank my dad for that,” she told him, making herself comfortable on the couch but not breaking eye contact once, “he’s been collecting them for decades and I’m so glad he let me have some, like you should see his collection back home, it’s even more impressive.”
“Hope I’ll get to someday.”
His response caught her off-guard. Before Jules could react, Harry’s teasing voice carried through the room.
“You dabble, you said?” He smirked, turning the Fine Line record in hand to show her and also nodding to the space that held One Direction records. Jules groaned out loud and flopped against the back of the couch.
“A little yeah. Sue me.”
She blushed under his amused gaze, a little embarrassed that he’d found her collection of the band’s records and his own solo music.
“It’s okay,” he assured her, dimples adorning his cheeks, “think it’s cute that you’re a big fan.”
“Don’t know why that makes me cute but okay if you say so.” She mumbled under her breath, realising that he heard her when he chuckled.
“Mind if I put on something then?”
Jules shook her head, signalling for him to go ahead while she poured their drinks. Soon afterwards Stevie Nicks’ voice filled the silence and her lips tugged up at the choice.
The couch dipped beside her when Harry sat down, the scent of his cologne invading her senses. Jules doesn’t think anyone has ever smelled as good as him, but she chose to keep that thought to herself and instead handed him his drink.
A few moments of silence passed after he quietly thanked her, Stevie’s voice the only thing that can be heard.
“So,” he started, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, a shit-eating grin on his handsome face, “would I find any 1D posters if I went into your room?”
“Oh fuck you.” She threw one of the cushions at him, smiling at the way he threw his head back in laughter.
Jules did not mind his company at all.
“Hold on a minute,” Harry straightened up from his previously relaxed position on the couch, “you all work together and you see him and his new girlfriend every day?”
“Yup, you can imagine how fun that is.” She loved her job as an accountant, having always been fascinated with numbers, but she hated having to see him every day in the office across from hers.
It’s not like she hated him, they actually ended on good terms, all things considered. Leon wasn’t bad, he never cheated on her, but the feelings between them just died out, a flicker of something that dwindled into nothing. So, they were friendly with each other and that’s probably the reason why he brought her a box of chocolate and a rose.
But Juliet just didn’t like the daily reminder that she was in fact much lonelier than he was; it’s like rubbing salt in the wound.
“Shit, Jules, that must be hard,” he frowns, leaning forward to pat her hand, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”
“It’s not that serious,” she mumbles, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks at the simple touch and she mentally cursed herself. She had sworn off men for the unforeseeable future. “I’m over him. You know, I actually think I was never really in love with him to begin with.”
“Why’d you think that?” He questions, his thumb still softly caressing her hand; Jules wasn’t sure if he was aware of that or was absentmindedly doing it. Either way, the touch warmed her.
“I think,” she started, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table so she could sink in further into the couch, the move unintentionally bringing her body closer to Harry’s. “I think I was just happy to have someone around, someone to spend time with. I’ve spent a lot of my life alone and I think I just clung onto him because he kept me company.”
A few beats of silence passed before she continued. “That makes me sound horrible, no, it’s not like I used him, I did enjoy his company and we had a lot of fun together, but I think I was just in love with the idea of him, not him.”
Harry nodded his head, leaning back and mirroring her position, “I understand. That’s how I felt in most of my relationships actually. I longed to have someone around so I wouldn’t be lonely, but I’ve learned over the years that having company doesn’t mean that you won’t feel lonely.”
“You sounded pretty heartbroken on your last record though.” If she wasn’t as inebriated as she was, Jules would have probably had some filter and wouldn’t have said that.
Luckily, Harry chuckled in response and relaxed further into the couch, retracting his hand from hers (she instantly missed the warmth), but he didn’t seem upset. “I was. I would say that I was actually falling in love with her, so I was a bit of a mess when she left me.”
His words made her frown. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t know how anyone could leave you.” She muttered under her breath, forgetting that she was usually louder than normal after she’s had a few drinks.
“Could say the same thing about you.”
With her cheeks flushed, Jules forced herself to look him in the eye again. “You don’t even know me.”
“But I’d like to get to know you.” He almost instantly shot back, resting his chin on his hand and his dimples made an appearance, “I think you’re very interesting.”
“Pfft, me? Interesting?” She laughed, waving him off with her hand. “I am anything but.”
“That’s not true!” Harry vehemently denied, sounding almost offended at the thought, which admittedly made Jules’ heart skip a beat. Just a little.
“I’ve spent a few hours with you now and I can already confidently say that you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met,” his eyes shone bright as she stared into them and she could somehow tell he was being sincere, “and trust me, I’ve met a lot of people.”
Dramatically placing a hand over her heart, Jules flashed him her biggest smile. “Oh how special that makes me feel, I can just die happily now.”
Even though she was being melodramatic, his words did cause Jules’ heart to flutter. In the past, some people told her she was annoying, or brash, and some others would make her feel invisible and undeserving of attention.
Harry, though, was unlike anyone she had ever known. From the moment they met, Harry made her feel like the centre of his attention, never once ignored her or brushed her off, even when she was taking the piss; his emerald eyes were always set on her, giving her his undivided attention as he listened to every word that came out of her mouth.
Jules was definitely not used to that.
Harry threw his head back in laughter, a sound that Jules found to be a beautiful melody, and gazed at her with those bright eyes. “Oh you’re insufferable, I take it back.”
She gasped in feigned shock, crossing her arms with force. “No backsies.”
Another melodic laugh left Harry’s mouth and she couldn’t stop the smile forming on her lips; right then and there, Jules decided that his laugh was one of her favourite sounds.
“Backsies?” He echoed, his tone still laced with laughter, “what are you, five?”
“Shut your pretty mouth.”
“Oh so you think I have a pretty mouth?” His smirk caused his skin to flush and she cursed herself for saying those words. She really needed to think before she spoke, something her parents always reminded her of.
She recovered quickly, bringing her glass closer to her mouth. “I mean, it’s fine, your lips are a little on the thin side but-“
“Heyyy now,” he protested, pink lips forming a pout and Jules definitely thought about kissing them at that moment. “That’s not nice.”
“Never claimed I was nice now, did I?” Jules smirked, feeling a sudden surge of confidence as she took another sip from her drink.
Jules did not miss the way Harry’s eyes seemed to darken just a little, his jaw tensing as she continued to stare him down. Harry leaned forward, mouth opening to respond when suddenly a shrill tone burst their bubble.
Patting the couch cushions, Jules was trying her hardest to forget the look on Harry’s face as she searched for her phone. Stop it, Jules, he’s an international rockstar and he won’t even remember you after tonight.
She sighed in relief when her hand made contact with the device, but that quickly turned into a groan upon seeing who the caller was. Looking back at Harry, who was leaning against the armrest simply staring at her, she shot him an apologetic look before she answered the call.
“Hey, mama” she closed her eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Not that she was expecting anything to happen between her and Harry, but the mood was definitely ruined now.
“Hello, honey, how are you? Are you home yet?” Her mother’s calming voice sounded from the other side of the line, making her smile a bit despite the interruption. Ever since the breakup, her mom made sure to call her frequently to check up on her, even though Jules insisted that she didn’t have to.
“I am home, mom, yes,” she responded, shifting her gaze back to Harry who was now leaning his head against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed.
“Good, good. Just checking on you, cariña, how was your night then?”
“It was fine,” she paused for a second, not sure if she should mention meeting Harry now, but she decided it was best not to, “had a few drinks then went straight home. Think I’m gonna go to bed in a few actually.”
She could tell by the way Harry’s lips twitched that he was awake and listening.
“I won’t keep you up then,” some noise was in the background and she heard her mother whisper to someone, “okay, honey, good night! And your dad says good night too.”
“Good night, mama,” Jules smiled, finding herself suddenly missing her family that she hasn’t seen since the holiday season. “Tell dad I said good night too, and that he better spoil you today.”
Her mother’s laugh ringed loud on the other side, “We’re going to dinner tonight, cariña, and he even got me a large bouquet of my favourite roses! Joseph shh- Alright then, bye bye, sweets, love you!”
“Bye, mama, love you too.”
A few seconds passed after she ended the call before Harry spoke up, head tilted to the side. “That sounded sweet. Does she check up on you often?”
Jules hummed in response, resting her head sideways on the sofa so was mirroring his position. “Especially after the breakup. She just worries too much about me.”
“I don’t think she needs to,” he shot her a gentle smile, one that made her want to wrap her arms around him and bask in his warmth, “her daughter’s a very strong woman.”
Not finding any words to say in response, Jules continued tracing Harry’s features, lazily admiring the slope of his nose, the curve of his brows, the sharpness of his jawline; everything about the man before her was mesmerising.
Turning her gaze back to his eyes, Harry flashed her another smile before sitting up straight, the smile slowly dropping. “I should probably go now, it’s getting late.”
Jules immediately wanted to shout “no!” and ask him to stay, but the rational part of her mind told her that she shouldn’t, that she would only set herself up for heartbreak when he finally leaves her.
So the only thing she could say was a faint “Okay.”
As they stood up, it seemed like Harry was holding back from saying something, but she didn’t know if she was just reading too much into things. It was probably just her hazy mind (though she’d argue her head has never been clearer)
They silently made their way to her door, Jules feeling deflated at the prospect of his departure. Would they keep in touch? Would she just become a distant memory, a miserable woman he spent a lonely valentine’s day with?
“Can I-“ Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks, causing Jules to almost run into his back because she was trailing behind him. His demeanour was suddenly all shy when he turned to face her, cheeks flushed crimson.
Jules waited with bated breath and wide eyes for him to continue, heart beating loudly in her chest.
“Can I have your number?”
Relief washed over Jules and Harry visibly relaxed at the bashful smile on her lips. Jules didn’t know why he was so nervous, but the sight was so endearing to her.
She added her number after he handed her the device, secretly smiling at her contact name Juliet x. She already earned herself an x after her name after a few hours? Jules’ heart was beating so loudly she feared Harry would hear its calls for him.
Jules watched him put his shoes on, wishing the night wouldn’t end so soon and wondering if it would be too forward to ask him to stay longer.
Deep in her thoughts, Jules didn’t register that Harry was standing in front of her, bodies close enough that the scent of his cologne engulfed her senses once more.
“I should go now.” Harry whispered, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her and Jules had never felt so whole. She’s heard about Harry’s incredible hugs and now that she’s experiencing it, she never wanted to let go of his warmth.
Harry broke their embrace much too soon for her liking, but not before peppering a gentle kiss on the side of her head. “Good night, Juliet.”
Say something. Don’t let him leave. “Good night, H.”
And then he was gone and Jules was left on her own once more.
After staring longingly at the closed door, as if he would suddenly appear behind it, Jules sighed and made her way back to the living room, slumping against the couch cushions and wishing Harry’s arms were around her again.
Her phone dinged on the coffee table, signalling the arrival of a text. A simple “Hey. I really enjoyed tonight. H” was staring back at her.
Jules contemplated for a few seconds, heartbeats picking up their speed again, before she whispered “fuck it” and clicked on his number.
“Juliet?”
Deciding to go after what her heart wants for once, Jules didn’t hesitate to respond, “Do you want to-“
But an insistent knock interrupted her and Jules wanted to scream at the intrusion. Who on earth would be knocking at her door at this hour?
“Harry, hold on just-“
She takes frustrated strides to the door, ready to yell, but the sight behind it made her anger immediately evaporate.
“H-Harry? What are you doin-“
“What were you going to ask me?” He interrupted, sounding a little out of breath and she wondered if he ran all the way back to her apartment.
Feeling emboldened by his return, Jules took a few steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands immediately grabbing her face and pulling her closer, their lips joining together in a gentle yet eager kiss.
Jules felt her body melt in his hold. Their kiss only lasted for a few seconds before they pulled apart, still lingering so close that she could taste his wine-stained lips.
“Stay?” Jules asked, rubbing her nose against his, her heart thudding in her chest as she waited for his answer. Her words carried more weight than she had intended them to and she hoped they wouldn’t scare him off. But her worries vanished when she felt him smile widely against her lips.
“For as long as you’ll have me.”
Maybe valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all.
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and please come talk to me about Harry and Jules and tell me your thoughts!
#1dffvalentine#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles x ofc#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfic
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So my partner is amazing and let's me ramble about RE to them whenever I want to, and even sat down to watch Vendetta with me when I bought it, so the other day I was like explaining Leon and Chris' characters (bc my partner knows how much I love them both lmao so of course that's what I was talking about), and we have both come to the conclusion that Leon is a bisexual disaster, and Chris is a homosexual. The running joke is that Leon is also just generally a whore, out there living his best life, and Chris is the kind of gay guy who no one expects to be gay bc of stereotypes and his habit of never really talking about himself, but he also was never really in the closet about it, so he's surprised whenever people are surprised to learn that he's gay lolol but in all seriousness Leon is not only bisexual, but he's the type to fall in love easily despite all of his background and trauma related to betrayal, so his heart is almost continually broken, either bc he's betrayed or he loses whoever it is he's found himself in love with (and sometimes both i.e. Krauser, and Ada at the end of RE2), either through death or just leaving bc he knows he can't stay/can't be with whomever. As for Chris, maybe I'm reading into it wrong, but despite all of the like, romantic connotations they try to put into some of his games (which I don't. Really see? Like there was some in the first game with Jill but I just cannot see them together like that, neither seem interested in one another like that. And of course, Jessica, who I can't stand, and who Chris is supposedly totally oblivious to? Like she thinks he didn't notice her flirting in RE revelations, and Parker is like "is it that, or is he maybe interested in someone else?" And the assumption there is that he means Jill, but again, I don't see it? Even in that game! But that line of Parker's always makes me think "yeah, he's more than just interested in someone else, he's playing for a whole nother team entirely!" lmao. And I haven't seen much for 5 but I'm sure it's there between Chris and Sheva, and then for 6 from what I understand there really is hardly any talk of Chris in regards to any women at all? 8 has nothing, as well, and the DLC for 7 is just another "Chris loses his entire team in horrific fashion yet again" side plot, so nothing there either), he never seems interested. He's always focused on the task at hand, not letting emotions get in his way, and like, some could argue that that's why he doesn't show interest or why Capcom doesn't create more romantic lore around him, but if they really wanted to Make Sure he was straight and Make Sure everyone playing these games knew that, I imagine there would be some one line little hints in the games of him talking about how he can't let himself get distracted, or in his line of work there are no happy endings or what have you, but. There's none of that. Bc he isn't forcing himself not to be interested, he isn't purposefully focusing on saving the day so he doesn't have to get hurt knowing he can never have whichever high potential for a dope ass protag female character who's constantly sacrificing herself to save him bc what better purpose could they serve, right Capcom?, he's just. There, doing his job and trying to save whoever he can, not getting distracted in anyway whatsoever by any of the women in his life, romantically at least. He still cares way too much, but it never comes off as romantic to me in pretty much any way. Also the note he leaves in his STARS locker in RE2remake, Claire being like "this doesn't sound like Chris at all!" Is funny to me bc like, I don't really remember so correct me if I'm wrong, but she doesn't elaborate on WHY that note doesn't sound like Chris lmao is it bc he's respectful to women at all times and doesn't ever objectify them, probably hates when other people do? Or is it bc he would never be interested in women in this way ANYWAYS, the man is so gay, he must have left this note so that Claire would know something is Up, bc her brother is Such a homosexual.
Anyways sorry, I just wanted to ramble/get your opinion on this. Over-analysing RE is actually really fun lmao
haha not gonna lie, I opened your ask in the car on the grocery store parking lot and tried to read it on my phone, and gave up squinting at the small screen halfway through :'D now that I'm back at my laptop though, lol, all good :'D
first of all I'm happy you have someone to ramble to even though they aren't into the thing themselves! :D I regularly rant about RE fandom things to my brother haha and he listens patiently although he isn't in the fandom at all, he's only played the games and that's it. but he still listens to my shippy rambles lol.
as for your thoughts? makes sense to me tbh. I definitely headcanon Leon as a bisexual disaster most of the time, because it does seem fitting. maybe it's partly because I think he's absolutely breathtakingly stunning and it'd be a shame to deny anyone that, so, naturally he wouldn't care about such trivial things as gender, pfth, love is love.
also Leon falling in love easily? absolutely. too damn easily. c'mon this is a man who gets attached to anyone who shows him even the tiniest amount of basic kindness in the matter of minutes. he canonically forms attachments with Claire, Ada, Krauser, Helena, Buddy and JD (JD 😭)... whoever else am I forgetting? but this is the guy who meets someone and would die for them five seconds later. so. it tracks.
and you know what, I can 100% see Chris being only into men. because like. I don't see the romance there either when he's interacting with the women in his life? okay, sure, I could imagine something there between him and Jill if pressed seeing the way he so single-mindedly wants to save her and then holds her in the scene after they get that thing off her chest. maybe. but even there it doesn't really feel super romantic to me, personally.
in the first game with Jill there's not... a lot of romance I don't think? sure she falls asleep against his shoulder in the evac helicopter but i mean, i've fallen asleep against a friend like that? not an indication of romance? they're clearly important to each other! i am not trying to diminish their importance to one another at all! they'd die for each other and they'd do anything it takes to protect each other and i do think their relationship is compelling but... i don't really see anything inherently romantic in it.
and Jessica, yeah, Chris is 100% oblivious to her advances. it is implied in the game that he's into Jill instead but other than that there's again zero actual romantic interaction between Chris and Jill. I was actually talking about this with my brother, who said the same, like there were so many chances in Revelations to put something romantic in there between Chris and Jill but there just. isn't? anything? except for Parker's comment. which is why it felt so damn out of place? (and like my brother would've wanted to ship Chris and Jill, he was kinda bummed about this i feel :'D) so interpreting it to mean he's not interested in women at all would actually make more sense lmao.
as for RE5, I've played it twice (with my brother lmao do we see a theme here) and honestly I don't remember anything in the game that would've insinuated anything more than solid partnership between Chris and Sheva?? if someone who's more familiar with the game wants to correct me on this, then please! but at least off the bat I can not remember anything so I think they actually didn't try to even hint at romance for them?
and in RE6 Chris is way too focused on killing "Ada" to have any thoughts about anything else :'D so no. no mentions in there regarding him and any women. at all. not even hints of Jill which is so incredibly weird (and stupid tbh) bc she was made to be so important to him in RE5 and then doesn't even get a mention in RE6? (/shakes fist damn you capcom! the characters exist outside the games they're in!)
I think that's pretty much the main difference between Chris and Leon tbh. Chris sees the job at hand, and he knows it'll help, he knows it'll save people and it'll make the world safer and he's so single-mindedly focused on the job that he sees nothing else. while Leon sees people, for the better or for worse, and he is willing to take detours if it helps even one person in the meantime. like in RE6, Leon willingly ignores the task at hand to go help just about anyone. Chris doesn't want to pause even when pressed bc he has an end goal in mind.
and bear in mind, I am not trying to say this somehow makes Leon better or Chris better or anything. they're both doing this to help. they both have their heart in the right place. they both care. but they're just so different! their personalities, and their way of dealing with things is different! I feel Chris is really target oriented and wants to get the job done. while Leon's easily distracted from it, because of all the damn feelings :'D
but yeah. i love them both, and i think it's really damn fascinating how they're both the good guys, the heroes of the franchise, but they both take to things so differently.
i don't know if any of this makes sense, I think i rambled too :'D but hey-o, it was fun lmao.
and hey no need to apologize at all!! always feel free to shoot me a message if you wanna chat!
#re answers#anonymous#ask and i shall answer#chris redfield#leon s kennedy#also i know#this is all headcanoning and my subjective opinion#so feel free to disagree#on anything :3#and everything lmao :'D#long post
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Devotion - Story of the Oracle and her Shield
Chapter 23 - In solace of a lie
Why is believing in a lie more comforting than facing the truth? I wonder…
Luna stood there quietly, looking out of the window for a few minutes before retreating to her quarters. Too tired to think, she soon succumbed to sleep.
It was almost 10 a.m. and Luna had still not stepped out of her cabin, which worried Aranea. She knocked persistently, but to no avail.
“Luna, are you okay?” she asked, following another knock. After hearing no response, she banged on the door.
Luna laboriously opened her eyes and stumbled her way to the door. She opened to the door to find an impatient Aranea standing outside. Aranea was relieved to see her. “Geez, even the monster wakes up before you.”
“Sorry, I went to sleep late last night,” she defended, rubbing her eyes.
“I hope you guys were not doing, you know, that,” Aranea teased in a mischievous tone. It took Luna’s sleepy brain a few seconds to register what she was hinting at.
“How dare you,” Luna threatened, squinting her eyes.
“Good, you are awake,” Aranea said with a laugh. “The bathroom is that way. Get freshen up and meet me at the café two cabins up ahead. I’ll wait for you there.”
Luna nodded as Aranea quickly exited to another compartment. Luna admired how Aranea was always so full of energy.
She retrieved her backpack and grabbed her essentials from it to begin her morning rituals. She felt energetic and refreshed after a blissful hot shower.
She came back to her quarters and checked on Leon, but he was still unconscious. She meditated and prayed for a few minutes before joining her best friend.
“How long does it take to get ready?” Aranea remarked when she saw Luna approaching.
“Sorry! I got a hot shower after weeks, so I enjoyed it until the hot water ran out,” she replied with a smile.
Aranea was like her best friend and big sister all-in-one. She was one person with whom Luna can be herself. Aranea for her part also treated Luna a normal girl as opposed to an Oracle. Their conversations were often casual and light-hearted, which meant the world to Luna. Aranea was one of the few people Luna could put her guard down without any fear.
“What would you like my annoying vegan friend?” Aranea asked, folding her hands.
“Whatever is available,” Luna replied with a shrug. She sat on the barstool next to Aranea. She looked around and the whole compartment was practically empty, which she silently appreciated.
“Just give her a kid’s meal with some mac and cheese and fries,” Aranea told the server. “Also, don’t forget to give her a toy.”
Luna arched her eyebrow at Aranea and she pointed at the sign, which said, “Free toy with every kid’s meal.” Luna just started laughing and shook her head.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” Luna asked, resting both of her hands on the table.
“Well, we have a lot of catching up to do missy. Let me start first because I have a feeling that your story will be a lot more exciting than mine.”
“I wouldn’t call it exciting,” she stated, shaking her head.
“There is a hot guy sleeping in your compartment right now. I am sure you have the exciting part covered,” Aranea teased.
“How is Ravus?” she asked, switching the topic.
“Pissed. Scared. Annoyed. Happy.”
“That’s quite a range of emotions.”
“Those emotions are justified when your only sister runs off in danger without care for well-being.”
“Sorry,” she sighed, looking down
Luna got her mac and cheese and fries while Aranea got her coffee and muffin, which she had ordered before Luna got there.
“Tell me, what happened since I was gone?” asked Luna.
“During the invasion of Insomnia, initially we feared you had died,” she began.
“Stop,” Luna suddenly cut her off. She just pointed at the chef of the café.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He is one of us. At least one of the weapons vendors, diners or the inn owner at every outpost in Lucis are our people.”
“No way!” she was surprised to hear that.
“Information is the key to win the war, so we have gone to great lengths to infiltrate their ranks.”
“Wow!” she said, still processing the information she just learned.
“After the treaty signing, we lost track of your whereabouts. Ravus was promoted to the high commander of the imperial army in the wake of Glauca's death. He convinced the Emperor to declare you as dead to lure you out of your hiding. In reality, it was a ploy to take some heat off of you. Besides, capturing Citadel caused quite an uproar in Lucis so we had our hands full. We were alerted of your presence when you crossed the Disc of Cauthess.”
She took a sip of her coffee before continuing, “We figured that you were going to wake up the giant. Historically, Astrals has not taken kindly to be woken up. Since Ravus and I were in Gralea, we had sent in some cavalry to help you neutralize the Titan should he attack you. However, the lieutenant-general deployed at that post was an Empire’s loyalist and attacked you instead. How you managed to destroy half a brigade and escape in one piece is a mystery to us.”
“I can fill you in on that later,” she offered, taking a spoon full of mac and cheese.
“We lost complete track of you after that for weeks. We were alerted of your presence again when one of our video analysts had spotted you in the background of our news. Brigadier General Ulldor responded to the call and killed off a civilians, but you had escaped again. We did not find a trace of you for weeks until yesterday. Knowing how you managed to remain hidden so well is of great interest to me.”
“I can fill you in on that too,” she assured, dipping her fries in katchup.
“Meanwhile, the word had gotten out of your death so thousands of pilgrims flocked to the Fenestala Manor to pay their respects, expecting Ravus to deliver a eulogy. Sir-Broods-a-lot avoiding the public eye caused many to worry about his well-being.”
“Speaking of that, how is his arm?”
“That stupid ring had burned off his entire left arm. He met with Dr. Verstael Besithia who replaced his arm with a magitek prosthetic arm, giving him superhuman strength. He is currently on his tour to Lucis to ease the unrest in the region.”
“I am glad to hear that he is doing okay,” she professed with a sigh of relief.
After enjoying their meal quietly for a few moments, Luna asked, “How is your home?”
“Gralea is in bad shape. The number of demons in the capital is getting out of control. The Emperor Aldercapt had hoped that bringing Crystal to Gralea would help dispel all the daemons, but turns out that without the ring the Crystal is nothing but a shiny rock.”
“Was that the grounds for invading Insomnia?” she wondered aloud.
“Yes, or so we’ve been told. I think he did what he thought was best for his country. He desperately wanted to protect his civilians. Lucis was not going to just hand over their precious crystal because Niflheim needed it. The Emperor Aldercapt hated the fact that Lucis thrived and prospered while everything outside of the barrier was crumbling apart. His vision was to use the Crystal’s power to empower humanity so they never have to rely on magic again. His methods were far from ideal, but his heart was in the right place, that is why I joined the Empire Army. However, Ardyn and Verstael seem to be gaining more influence on the Emperor with each passing day. Weaponizing demons, experimenting on civilians, and in some cases demonizing people are becoming a norm now. This is not the Empire I loved and believe in. Honestly, I’ve thought a lot about leaving it.”
“So, what is holding you back?”
“Ravus. It seems counterintuitive, but in order to fix the problem, he became one with the problem itself. He is fighting an uphill battle. He inspires me to keep fighting for the future I want to see. Running away won’t solve anything. I want to save the Empire from itself and the best place to do it is from within. I will die for it if I have to.”
“We all are constantly fighting our own battles. When do we actually live?” Luna asked.
“I don’t know. You are the Oracle, you tell me,” she asked, finishing her coffee.
“Unfortunately, there is no one answer to this problem. We must find it for ourselves. Ironically, people often find something to die for, but they rarely find something to live for. Aranea, don’t die for the Empire. Live for it.”
“Well said, Oracle,” she remarked, getting up from her stool.
Both friends made their way back to Luna’s quarters. Luna checked on Leon as soon as she entered the cabin.
“Are you going to tell me what is going on here?” Aranea asked sitting on the opposite berth.
“It’s a long story,” said Luna, rubbing the temple of her head.
“I’ve got time,” Aranea replied, leaning back against the cabin wall with arms folded and legs outstretched.
Luna told her everything from the time king’s glaives helped her escape to Insomnia till their journey to Fociaugh Hollow. Well, she did not tell her “everything.” Telling Aranea everything that happened between her and Leon would be like committing social suicide. Aranea would over-interpret things and would endlessly tease Luna. Luna just told her “strategically relevant information.”
“You have been through a lot,” Aranea said, with concern evident in her voice. “You are lucky to even be alive at this point.”
“Yes, had it not been for Leon, my luck would have run out a long time ago,” she admitted.
“I am impressed at how you guys managed to avoid the entire Imperial army for so long. Not staying at an outpost was a genius move.”
“It was all his idea. He is a military genius.”
“He must be as he was able to keep you safe from the Imperials, daemons, and Astrals. And he is devilishly good-looking to boot. Nice catch Luna,” she commented with a suggestive wink.
Luna facepalmed. “Stop teasing, Aranea. It is not as you think.”
“No, I am not teasing. I am serious. He has done more for you in the last few weeks than Noctis has in his whole life. You should seriously consider this.”
“Aranea, I am engaged to Noctis.”
“Oh, I am sorry, I did not know that he proposed to you. Did he send you a ring? Did he write a letter with Umbra expressing his feelings?”
“He just lost his father and his kingdom. He is dealing with a lot himself. And he is shy, so he doesn't express his feelings. That does not mean he does not love me.”
“Oh please, wake up from this nonsense,” Aranea’s temper flared. “Your marriage was only a ploy to force King Regis’s hand. It was an empty symbolic gesture to bring him to the treaty table. None of it was real. The treaty never went through, which means you don’t have to marry him.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to marry him. He cares for me,” she pleaded.
“Ya, keep telling yourself that. For every second your covenant goes unresolved, you are losing your life. Why don’t you tell him to hurry up and get his act together?” Aranea snapped.
“I am not going to dictate his life. I am sure he is doing everything within his power to reunite me with quickly.”
“Like hell he is. He spends his time collecting decals and stickers for his car, picking up groceries for Takka's Pit Stop, searching for the missing dog tags, and collecting some stupid frogs. And when he is free from all these burdens, he spends his time fishing. Every second he wastes is every second you get closer to death. Something is literally killing you and you cannot even tell him and you claim to know about love.” She raved, unable to contain her anger.
“I know that you don’t like Noctis, but please don’t speak ill of Noctis. I am begging you.” Tears swelled in her eyes.
“What am I to do Luna? Just watch you die when there might still be a way to save you? You might not care about your own life, but we do. At least tell Noctis to get his act together to save your own brother.” Aranea was enraged.
“Save Ravus?”
“When encountering Empire airships, while you guys employed run, hide, and in the worst-case scenario fight tactic, Noctis and his buddies actively engage our troops. Every time they do that, we get notification of their location. While you guys were smart enough to avoid staying at any outposts, it looks like his Royal Highness is on a f***ing world tour. So far, he has stayed at every single outpost. And they all report back to us. Ravus and I have to either suppress those reports or stall long enough for him to escape. And people have started noticing it. If they find out that we are assisting Noctis, then Ravus would be executed ruthlessly.” She continued her outburst.
“I am sorry. I did not know that,” she said, amidst her sobs.
“We are trying to shield him, but it’s like he wants to get captured. While you and a complete stranger, who does not owe you a damn thing, are fighting every day so that he may reclaim his throne, what is he doing? We cannot help him unless he helps himself.” She riled.
“He is the chosen King of kings and I am sure he will rise to the occasion. Just give him some time,” she pleaded.
“This is pathetic. I don’t know if I am more disappointed in you or Noctis. Why do you defend him so much?” Aranea fumed.
“Because I love him, is that not a reason enough?”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I want to.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes things easier. To think that I have to sacrifice myself because it is my duty is hard. But, to think that I have to sacrifice myself for my love makes it easier to bear. Sometimes we are not seeking happiness, but simply a shelter from the pain.” She broke down into tears as she couldn’t say anything further.
Aranea moved closer to her and hugged her. “I am sorry,” she consoled her. She let her cry herself to sleep. Luna was exhausted physically and mentally. Aranea gently placed her on her berth and quietly exited the cabin.
It must be around 6 p.m. when Luna woke up again. She felt something soft around her legs. She wearily opened her eyes to see what it was. Before she could even move, the furry beast hopped over her and started licking her face. She giggled as Pryna snuggled close to her. After playing with her, Luna sat up and stretched. She noticed Umbra lying around Leon’s legs.
She got up and petted Umbra. “You know Umbra, you are my dog, not his,” she playfully scolded him.
Umbra in response retracted from her touch and snuggled close to Leon.
She just rolled her eyes and said, “Fine. Be that way.”
She stepped out of her cabin and went to the bathroom to get freshened up. When she emerged from it, she found Aranea standing in the corridor, looking out of the window. Luna joined her and observed the beautiful landscape passing by.
“Hey, I am sorry. I was very hard on you,” Aranea apologized.
“It’s all right. I know you meant well.”
“I just couldn’t watch you self-destruct. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I should have simply presented the information I had and let you make your own choice. I shouldn’t have projected my views on you,” Aranea admitted.
“Please don’t beat yourself up. I needed to hear that. Sometimes you don’t see your own mistakes, no matter how obvious it may be, until someone points it out to you. While most people revere me as the Oracle, you are my one true friend, who does not shy away from telling me when I am wrong. And I appreciate it more than I show,” she confessed.
“Glad to hear that.”
“I took your advice to heart and have asked Gentiana to be in frequent communication with Noctis and keep him focused on the goal,” Luna informed.
“Thank you.”
“He is destined to lead us through the darkness and I am sure he will heed Gentiana’s call,” Luna reassured.
“Destiny does not become a reality unless you work for it. I hope he understands that,” Aranea pointed.
“I am sure he is aware of his duties,” Luna reassured.
“Let’s hope so for both of our sakes.”
“Hungry?” Aranea asked, after an outstretched silence.
“Not yet.”
“You haven’t eaten anything since the morning,” Aranea pointed.
“Neither have you, am I right?” She asked.
“Ya, I am starting to get hungry, want to go grab a bite?” Aranea proposed.
“It’s only 6 p.m. how about we go after an hour?” Luna offered.
“Sounds fair.”
“Hey Arae, I need your help with something,” she requested.
“Sure, what is it?” Aranea responded promptly.
“It’s Leon. He still hasn’t woken up. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I am worried about him.”
“Let’s go check it out,” she said, pushing herself off the rails.
Luna leads the way. Upon entering, they were greeted by two canines guarding the cabin. Aranea played with Pryna first and then with Umbra sitting by Leon’s legs. Luna kneeled next to Leon, gently placing her hand on his forehead.
“So, after your covenant with Ramuh, on your way out you collapsed and by the time you woke up, he was knocked out?” Aranea recollected what Luna had told her earlier, while gently petting Umbra.
“Yes, after my covenant with Titan I was out for weeks. But here I woke up after only a few minutes. How did I recover so fast from the covenant? What happened after I lost consciousness and before I woke up?” Luna wondered.
“This is strange, you forged the covenant, so you should be knocked out, not him,” Aranea wondered aloud.
“Exactly. Something happened and I just don’t know it. It feels like I am missing a part of my memory and it is so frustrating,” Luna admitted. “I guess; now I know how he must feel for not remembering huge chunks of his memories.”
Aranea got up and moved close to Leon to check his pulse. Her expression changed immediately.
“What’s wrong?” Luna asked with concern.
“This pulse is a lot weaker than yesterday. At this rate, he might not live long enough to reach Tenebrae.”
“Oh God,” she said, as the horror set in.
Aranea moved over to the empty berth. They both sat quietly pondering over what to do next. The mood in the room was very solemn. Light music played from overhead speakers in the cabin, which neither paid much attention to.
“According to legends, there is one unconventional method which has been used to wake up people from their deep slumber,” Aranea said, looking thoughtful.
“Tell me. I’ll do anything,” Luna eagerly replied.
“Once upon a time there was a princess who was cursed by a wicked witch. The curse puts her to sleep. All the medics in the kingdom got together, but none could wake her up. Yadda yadda yadda it took a true love’s kiss to wake her up.”
“I am NOT doing that,” Luna glared at her.
“Fine. Then get out of the way. I’ll kiss him,” Aranea said, getting up from her berth.
“No!” Luna spread out her hands, blocking Aranea’s advance.
“Oh, being territorial, are we?” she said with a mischievous wink.
“Arae, this is not the time to joke!” Luna scolded her.
“Geez, I was just trying to light up the mood. It is so solemn in here that it felt like someone has died. You don’t get the best ideas when you are in stress,” she justified her recent actions. They both went back into their thinking mode.
Aranea finally broke the long silence. “When we are looking for information not readily available to us, we check with the sources closest to the information. Next, we see if there is any documentation or recording of it. In your case, it was only the two of you so that rules out any other sources. I doubt there is any documentation or recording of your journey. I am at a loss for ideas here,” she said. “If only we could peek in from the window of time and look at what happened in the past.”
“But even if we do that, it’s not--” Luna stopped mid-sentence as she had a eureka moment. “Arae, you are a genius.”
“I am?” she wondered out loud. Not sure what she was getting credit for, but she’ll take it. “I mean, I am.”
“There is a recording of what happened!” she said gleefully.
“What? Where? How?” Aranea asked, confused.
“That recording in his mind!”
“Oh! I get it. So, let's cut him open and see what’s inside!” Aranea said with too much excitement. Luna just glared at her. “Sorry, not the right time to joke. Guilty as charged.” She raised her hands in defense.
“We do have a way to look through the window of time and look at the past.”
“And how are you going to do that?” she wondered.
“Our answer is looking right at us!” Luna said with a voice full of excitement and hope.
“I am still not following you,” Aranea admitted.
“Umbra!”
“What about it?”
“Umbra’s power can send people back in time. I can ask Umbra to send me back in time to see what happened,” Luna projected.
“But you were unconscious, so even if you go back in time, you will simply be unconscious, No?”
“Yes, I did not think of that,” Luna confessed.
After pondering for a while Luna spoke up again, “How about I go back in Leon’s time. Then I will see everything, right?”
“I thought Umbra could send people back to their past, not someone else’s.”
“Umbra will connect with Leon and I will connect with Umbra. Using Umbra as the mediator, in theory, I should be able to see his memories,” Luna explained.
“In theory?” Aranea asked with concern.
“Well...” she said, recollecting an old memory.
Earlier in Lestallum
Lunafreya was sitting in her bed, idly squeezing a stress ball. It was part of her therapy to regain motor control in her hand. She noticed Umbra sitting at Leon’s feet as usual.
“He really likes you,” she commented.
Leon, who was reading cosmology, looked up and questioningly arched his eyebrow to Luna.
“Umbra, he really likes you. For years, he has been my faithful companion, never leaving my side once. But ever since you got here, he does not even come to me anymore,” she said with a laugh.
Leon lovingly petted Umbra.
“You know, he has divine powers.”
“Is that so? What does his power entail?” he asked.
“Umbra is a manipulator of time. He can send someone’s consciousness back in time.”
“How interesting. I used to know someone in my world with very similar power.”
“Really?” she said, sitting up on her bed. Her curiosity ran wild now. “What was their power like? How did it work?”
“She called her power Connect. She could connect with the consciousness of someone she knows, and send their consciousness back in time to experience the events of their or someone else past,” he explained.
“She could let someone explore the memories of others? That is so cool. And scary.”
“Yeah. It helped me save someone’s life once, I think,” he said, unable to recollect details of that event.
“How did looking at someone’s memory help you save them? How did it feel to look at someone’s memories?” she asked. Leon could tell there were hundreds of other questions she was trying to not ask all at once.
“I don’t recollect all the details, but I think someone I cared about fell into a coma. No medical treat helped, so I finally asked the girl with the mysterious powers to let me look at the memories of the person in a coma with a hope to learn more about their condition. Once I saw what caused them to lose their consciousness, I was able to help them recover. I think.” He said piecing together fragments of his memories.
“Wow, that is fascinating. I would not have thought of that in a million years. You must have really cared about that person to come up with such an innovative solution.”
“Yes, I think I cared deeply for that person,” he said, slightly unsure. “As for your second question. Looking at someone’s memories is like looking through a window of time. It almost feels like watching a movie. You see the world through their eyes, but you cannot change anything.”
“That is amazing. I wonder if Umbra has such powers too.”
“Who knows,” he said, petting Umbra again.
Aranea raised her concerns, “Just because it worked in his world does not mean it would work here as well. What if you cannot ‘disconnect?’”
“Arae, I can’t let the fear of failure stop me from trying. I am not going to just sit here waiting for him to wake up someday. If there is a way to get him back, I will find it.”
“I still feel this is reckless. Is he worth risking your life?” Aranea asked.
“He has risked his everything for me. This is the least I could do for him.”
“Wait! So, you are just going to jump into his consciousness and look at everything he did?” Aranea checked.
“Yes,” she replied as if it was the most obvious thing to do.
“Luna, this is an invasion of privacy on a whole new level,” Aranea said with disbelief.
Luna sighed and said, “I know it is, but there is no other way. He is a very closed off person, so I know he would probably hate me for this. I think he might hate me already so adding a little more hate to it won’t make a difference.”
“The only reason you would risk your life for someone who hates you is if you love them.”
“Arae, not now.”
“From what you have told me he sounds like a good person. Why do you think he hates you?” Aranea wondered.
“I betrayed him in a worse possible way.” She couldn’t finish her sentence as words dried up in her mouth.
“You betrayed him?”
“We’ll talk about it another time. I need to do this now,” she said, getting up and walking to Umbra.
“I can’t let you do this. This could be very dangerous,” Aranea cautioned.
“I don’t care what happens to me,” she said with uncharacteristic anger. “I won’t let him die again. You said it yourself that he won’t even make it till Tenebrae. This is our last hope and I won’t let that hope extinguish so easily.”
Aranea nodded, giving her silent approval.
“Thanks, Arae.”
She kneeled down beside Umbra and gently petted him. “Umbra, I need your help. I know you care about Leon too. Only you can help me with this. Can you please let me see Leon’s memories? There is something wrong with him and no one knows what. If we know what is wrong with him, then maybe we’ll be able to save him. Will you please help me?”
Umbra got up on his paws until he was eye-level with Luna. His eyes suddenly started glowing red. Luna was enthralled by it as she couldn’t move her gaze from Umbra’s eyes. She suddenly started feeling lightheaded and fell limp on the ground with eyes shut close.
“Luna,” Aranea bolted from her seat to attend her friend. She tried calling her name and shaking her to wake her up, but it was to no avail.
Aranea picked her up and laid her down gently on the berth.
“Great, now I have to babysit all three of them,” she said, shaking her head. “I wonder what she is going to find out.”
Author's notes:
This chapter highlights Luna and Aranea's friendship. This also gives a different (potentially controversial) perspective on Nocti's open-world journey. Personally, I felt horrible upon finding out that while I was spending ridiculous amount of time doing silly side quests Luna was dying all along. Your thoughts?
The next chapter would be a bombshell. Luna finds out the meaning of, "Your fates have been intertwined for eons." I can confidently say that it's a plot twist no one would have seen coming. I promise. *evil laugh*
Please leave a comment and brighten my day. Thanks :)
PS: I wrote couple of new stories so check it out of you have time. 1st story is called 'Eye on me' a Leon x Aerith story in Kingdom Heart universe. 2nd story is called 'I was not born evil this the cruel world made me' it is FFVIII story which narrates how Rinoa ended up becoming Ultimecia.
#Squall#Luna#Lunafreya#Noctis#Prompto#Gladiolus#Ignis#Ardyn#Aranea#Gentiana#Bahamut#Rinoa#Zell#Irvine#Selphie#Quistis#Stella#FFXV#FFVIII#FanFiction#Crossover#Love#Tragedy#Leon#Final Fantasy#Final Fantasy Versus#Squall x Rinoa#Squall x Luna#Noctis x Luna#Squall x Lunafreya
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The Devil is in the Details: Part 8
Karina stood in the mirror, applying her make up when her eyes landed on the bruise decorating her forearm. It had only been two days since she started taking the iron supplement, but Karina had hoped that the bruising would have stopped by now.
Leon had slept in and was just now starting his process of getting ready. Walking up behind Karina with sleep still in his eyes, he rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Hello, Gorgeous.” Karina smiled at their reflection as she leaned into him.
Leon nuzzled her neck before standing up straighter and stretching, giving a little grunt of approval.
Turning around, she kissed him. “See you later, k? I love you.”
“Mmm.” Leon caught Karina by the waist and gave her a squeeze, almost unwilling to let her go. “You don’t even have a few minutes?”
As Leon pressed himself against Karina, she felt his erection against her hip. With a defeated sigh, she closed her eyes. “Only a few minutes, we need to be quick.”
“I can be quick.” Leon almost purred as he turned Karina around.
They both moved their hands to the button on Karina’s pants, Leon eventually letting Karina unfasten them as he waited to slide them down past her backside. He snaked his right hand down the front of her pants while she braced herself against the counter.
“God, you’re already wet.” Leon laughed.
Karina inhaled deeply as she felt him enter her. “Yeah, well you do have that effect on me.”
“Do you want me?” He teased, pulling himself out but keeping himself pressed against her.
“Yes,” Karina pleaded. “Please, just fuck me already.”
“Mmm.” He purred again as he gripped her hips and began to thrust. “Only because you asked nicely.”
Karina had learned long ago that she could make herself come faster if she held her breath and while she would have liked to continue their little romp for longer, she kept one eye on the clock.
“Harder,” She begged. “Now.”
Leon’s only response was a grunt of approval, his own climax edging closer, followed by a bite on that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder.
With a whimper, Karina indicated her own climax as she needed to support herself on the counter.
“See?” Leon kissed her neck again. “You won’t even be late.”
She shook her head as she laughed. “I can feel your come running down my leg. There’s no way I can leave without cleaning myself up.”
Leon shrugged. “You could always call in sick.”
“Not a chance. I’ve got a meeting that I need to be at.” Karina made sure to punctuate it with a smile so Leon knew she was actually irritated with him.
“I’m sorry Maus.” Leon laughed despite himself. “I love you.”
Karina turned and kissed him as she pulled her pants back up. “I love you too. Now, would you please get me my grey work pants?”
The clacking of Karina’s stilettos against the floor announced her arrival, eliminating any chance she had of slipping into the meeting unnoticed. The board member giving the presentation stopped in mid-sentence which prompted everyone to turn and watch as Karina slunk to her seat next to the Nena, raising her hand slightly in apology.
After a moment, Nena shot a glare at Karina.
Karina mouthed a quick sorry as she shrugged and opened her notebook.
After the meeting adjourned, Nena pulled Karina aside. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Karina rubbed her temple before looking back at Nena. “I…I overslept.”
Raising an eyebrow, Nena looked her square in the eye before starting. “Should I be concerned?”
“Concerned about what, exactly?” Knitting her brows, Karina couldn’t help but be suspicious now
Nena frowned. “It’s just, I mean…I’ve seen the bruises.”
“No.” Karina instantly shook her head. “No, it’s not what you think. We’ve just figured out that I’m anemic so I’m exhausted all the time and I bruise if you look at me the wrong way.”
When Nena looked skeptical, Karina couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Do you honestly think Leon would be capable of something like that?”
“I don’t know, I don’t really know him.” Nena sighed. “I just know that you haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”
Karina wanted to bring up Daniel’s increasingly annoying behavior as a reason for her agitation but instead, she just smiled. “Would you like to see a doctor’s note? I really do appreciate your being worried and if something was wrong, I do feel like you would be someone that I could confide in but it’s really just me being ridiculously low on iron.”
“Ok,” She nodded as if she realized she was coming close to prying. “Ok. But please do know you can come to me if you need help.”
With a smile, Karina nodded. “Thank you.”
“Do you need some time off?” Nena kept her look of concern and took a step closer as coworkers began to file past.
Shaking her head, Karina closed her eyes for a pause just longer than a blink. “I think I’ll be fine but if I really start feeling drained, I’ll tap out, ok?”
“Ok,” Nena nodded and appeared to actually accept Karina’s answer. “Ok.”
Karina sat at her desk, resting her forehead against her hand, wondering if Leon and Nena had a point. It was becoming harder for her to focus on any given task and even worse, Karina just didn’t feel like being there at least half of the time. She heard Leon’s voice in the back of her mind reminding her that she didn’t need to work and if she wasn’t enjoying it then there wasn’t any point.
Shaking the thought from her mind, Karina decided some coffee might help her focus.
There were a few coffee makers in the staff room but both had been left with traces of old coffee and used grounds. Karina rolled her eyes as she pulled the dish soap out from under the sink but she also welcomed the distraction. After cleaning out the carafe, she added water and measure out enough for six cups. While she was waiting for it to brew, Karina sat at the small table and scrolled through Instagram.
“Karina?”
While she couldn’t quite pinpoint when it started, Karina had noticed that she now jumped whenever someone called her name. Looking up, she didn’t bother to fake a smile. “Daniel?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” He had lost that eagerness in his presence that initially irritated Karina but at this point, she doubted there was anything redeemable about him. “I just wanted to apologize. I can tell I’ve offended you.”
Karina wanted to scream no shit, you’ve offended me but knew better. “It’s fine. Just…it’s fine.”
Waiving him off, she began pulling her hair up into a ponytail when she heard Daniel gasp.
“Oh man,” Daniel stepped closer and squinted. “What happened to your arm?”
Bringing her arm down, Karina glanced at the dark greenish-yellow bruise just under her elbow but shrugged off his concern. “Knocked it on a doorknob.”
Daniel frowned but eventually continued with his thought. “Listen, I think we have a lot in common and would make good friends. I’d love it if you would give me a second chance.”
“No.” Karina was adamant this time. “I have no interest in being your friend.”
Looking stunned, Daniel stammered. “Well…why? I’ve been nothing but nice to you-”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. I gave you my answer and that is all you are going to get from me.” She attempted to have a somewhat sympathetic face as opposed to the smirk she wanted to wear.
Daniel narrowed his eyes. “I mean, if that’s the way you want to be about it, then…fine.”
“Have a great day.” Karina put on the biggest smile she could muster and looked in the direction of the door.
Once Daniel left, she positioned herself in front of the coffee maker and opened Instagram again, starting a video of her waiting in front of the slowly filling carafe. After adding Depeche Mode’s “Waiting for the Night” she closed the app again.
“Bro!”
Leon turned around to see Serge walking up to him.
“You gotta up your game, bro.” Serge pulled out his phone. “Your girl’s beating you.”
Cocking his head to the side, Leon scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
Serge opened up Karina’s Instagram stories, short little video clips that stayed on the app for about a day, and there were several of Karina standing in front of various paintings with the lyrics of popular songs coordinating with the artwork. The last one that made Leon audibly laugh was her standing next to Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes with the chorus of Billie Eilish’s Bad Guy playing in the background, the lyrics scrolling across the screen.
“Well, yeah.” Leon laughed again, eventually smiling proudly. “She’s always been clever.”
When Leon made it home, he found Karina with her headphones on, dancing along to something only she could hear and oblivious to his presence. Walking up behind her, he waited for her to take a step back and then caught her when she stumbled slightly over his foot. Karina jumped but soon laughed at herself when she realized what was happening.
Slipping her headphones off, Karina beamed as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Hey, you.”
“Mausi.” Leon smiled back and gently grasped her chin, kissing her again before he let her go. “How was your day?”
“I think you might be on to something with the whole cutting back my hours argument.” Karina leaned against him, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Yeah?” Noticing that Karina had changed into leggings and an old hoodie of his that she had claimed as her own, he figured they wouldn’t be going out for dinner. “Why is that?”
Karina flopped down on the sofa and waited to see if Leon would join her. She wasn’t above begging for affection at this point, but it would be easier for her to initiate if he was closer. “Well, I’m starting to feel like not being there. I can’t tell if it’s because I’ve been so tired or if it’s because I can’t stand Daniel-”
“Is he the kid that tried to say you two were very close?” Leon smirked just thinking about it as he took her cue and sat next to Karina.
With a sigh, Karina crawled into his lap and snuggled against him. “The very same. Today he tried saying that he thought we’d make good friends and then couldn’t understand why I said I didn’t want anything to do with him. It’s just annoying.”
“So quit.” Leon slipped his hands under the hoodie and, upon figuring out that she was wearing a camisole underneath, gently tugged it over Karina’s head so that he could begin to rub her shoulders. “There’s nothing saying that you need to work.”
Closing her eyes, Karina felt as though she could melt into him right then. “I know, but I think I’d get bored not doing anything.”
That got a laugh out of Leon, knowing she was right. “Wanna come play football with me?”
“Um, you know I have exactly zero of your athleticism and skill so that would be a no.” As Leon gently trailed his hands down her arms, she felt him brush against her elbow and she winced.
Leaning over, Leon gave it a gentle kiss. “I’ll be happy when your body isn’t a map of your clumsiness.”
With a roll of her eyes, Karina snorted. “Girl, same.”
Leon laughed openly now as he pulled Karina back against him. “Oh my little Maus. What would I do without you?”
“You’d probably be with Mathea.” Karina spoke with a neutral tone and Leon could tell that she meant nothing by it, but it didn’t sit well with him.
“Yeah?” He sat up straighter now. “Would you still be with Strohmann?”
Even if Karina hadn’t said anything, her body language spoke volumes. She moved away slightly turning her shoulder. “Well, he’s dead now so I’m going to go ahead and say no.”
He gave her a minute before he spoke again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. Did you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” She folded her arms across her chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Leon felt like he was about to open an entirely different can of worms but it seemed like something that needed to be done. “You obviously cared about him and with everything going on, I don’t think you really gave yourself a chance to mourn him.”
Closing her eyes, Karina let her head slump onto Leon’s shoulder, sighing as she felt his place his arm around her. “It’s not something that I really want to talk about with you.”
“Look, I know about your history with him, you told me yourself. I don’t care that he kept you-”
Karina cleared her throat as she shook her head. “Please, just leave it alone, ok?”
“Ok.” Leon finally conceded. “My offer stands if you change your mind.”
Although she nodded, Karina stayed silent for a period of time. Finally, she spoke, her voice not much louder than a whisper. “I will…eventually. It’s just not something I want to discuss right now.”
Turning slightly, Leon kissed Karina on the top of her head. “Can I make you dinner?”
“You can make dinner whenever you want.” Closing her eyes again, Karina sighed. “I’ll never turn that down.”
Leon was in the middle of mixing some various greens together for a salad when there was a knock at the door. He glanced up briefly and Karina took his cue to answer the door. With Elsa at her side, Karina glanced at the monitor before recognizing the man and opening the door for him.
Without so much as a hello, Leon’s agent burst through and looked around for him.
“We’ve got a problem,” He started. “She needs to leave so we can talk.”
Leon put the wooden spoon and fork set down but made no effort to move otherwise. “What are you going on about, Jörg? Karina doesn’t need to go anywhere.”
He glanced between the two of them and then shrugged. “Fine. Are you beating her?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Karina was visibly upset with Jörg but quickly turned to Leon. “Why are you asking him that?”
After clearing his throat, Jörg responded. “There’s been a complaint and the police are wanting to question you. They were nice enough to involve me first before just hauling your ass in the middle of your training session.”
Leon shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. “Just…calm down, Maus. We’ll get this worked out.”
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just a little ficlet thing, since im trying to get back into writing
rottmnt donatello&leonardo sibling shenanigans, donnie has the worst eating habits and leo is a responsible bro and annoys him until he eats
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"Have you eaten anything?"
Donatello startled at his brother's voice coming from the doorway, too engrossed in his invention to notice that someone had entered the lab.
Even now, as he put up his goggles and turned to squint at Leonardo, his mind wasn't focusing; it was still counting the math, theorizing about the next necessary step to progress, and he completely missed what Leo said next. He could hear his voice and see his mouth moving, but his brain treated the noise as unintelligible gibberish, refusing to process it as words.
"Whuh?" was his elegant reply and Leo rolled his eyes.
".. you didn't catch any of that, huh?"
While Leo crossed the distance between the door and work station, Donnie rubbed at his eyes. He was trying to pull his attention to his brother and the conversation that was apparently happening.
He couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed at the inconvenience though - sometimes it took a while for him to really get into the zone and getting interrupted in the middle of it ruined the momentum.
"What do you want, Leo?" he asked bluntly, turning in his chair to regard his brother.
Leo didn't reply straight away, eyes scanning the energy drink cans and coffee mugs littering the sides of the work station, a few empty flavored meal replacement shake containers amid them. Sometimes Leo really did wonder how his brother's heart hadn't given up and just stopped, what with the caffeine binges he went on to substitute a healthy sleep pattern. It was a heart attack waiting to happen.
He brushed most of the trash off the table and on the floor to an indignant "Hey!" from Donnie, and hopped to sit on the edge of it.
"Dad wanted to know if you've eaten anything since breakfast", he said, his legs idly swinging back and forth. "He says he hasn't heard you exit the lab in hours", he reached one leg over, using it to push Donnie's shoulder repeatedly, Donnie swaying back and forth with the motion. The softshell made another peeved noise, slapping at the offending appendage before pushing it off him.
"Stop it, get your dirty feet off me" he complained, Leo's amused grin making Donnie reach out and attempt to punch his shoulder. Leo leaned out of his reach with ease, grin only widening.
After a few more futile swings, Donnie gave up with an irritated glance at the ceiling, opting to let it go. Leon was a thorn in his side, truly.
Speaking of pain... He was slowly becoming aware of how tense his muscles were. He got up from the chair, figuring he might as well use this break to stretch them and get blood flowing again.
He rolled his shoulders and put his arms above his head, stretching long and good with a sigh. He didn't always wear the battleshell in the safety of their lair, but wearing a heavy piece of equipment like that and hunching over while working on the daily did a number on his back.
"Well?"
It hadn't escaped Leo's notice that Donnie was avoiding replying to his fairly straightforward question.
"Yeah, yeah", Donnie huffed. Despite how irritating it was to have Leon on his back about it, a very quiet and small part of Donnie was always a bit touched that his family paid enough attention to him to notice when he skipped meals or pulled allnighters.
It was a bit unusual for their dad to be the one to notice the former, though. It was usually Raph who sent one of his brothers or himself to needle him until Donnie got himself something to eat or went to bed. It was mildly surprising.
"I ate like a few hours ago", he replied and Leo cocked an eyebrow ridge. "Meal replacements don't count as a meal, Dee. Have you eaten actual food? It's like 7pm", he said, slouching casually on the table and poking at Donnie's bust of himself.
"That's not all I've eaten", the purple one grumbled a little bit petulantly, moving closer to pull the bust out of Leo's reach. He was avoiding actually answering; he hated being called out like this. Liquid food was just so convenient, coming in easy packets and always ready for fast consumption.
And sometimes food just... grossed him out, holding too much texture and taste for him to eat when he was tired or stressed, hypersensitivity buzzing on his skin and making him pull into his lab for peace and quiet until the static became background noise and there was just him and his machines.
"Coffee also doesn't count as a meal, and neither does energy drinks", Leo countered easily, glancing at his brother and his disgruntled expression. "C'mon, I think there's some pizza still left and pops went topside with Raph. We can watch tv while we eat"
Donnie pursed his lips, thinking it over. He honestly didn't feel like eating, having gone without proper food, sustained by sugar and coffee, long enough that hunger had become just a distant hum that his body wasn't even registering as hunger anymore.
But Leo was looking at him expectantly and Donnie was slowly realizing the headache tightening around his temples, his eyes sore from focusing on tiny parts for extended period of time, so he folded.
"Fine. I get to pick the channel though", he said as Leo hopped off the work station the second he agreed. "Works for me, as long as it's not one of those boring science ones" he grinned, patting Donnie's back as he walked past him, touch familiar and warm against his bare shell.
Donnie sighed, following his brother and flicking off the lights as he went.
#rottmnt leonardo#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#filler tag //#my writing#disordered eating / just incase
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Damselfly
April
The black vinyl smells like Windex and rubbing alcohol. Through the thin sterile paper, my hollow stomach is cold. The doctor sets down his clipboard and retrieves a pair of latex gloves from a nearby cupboard. They’re not a trendy black like at the shop, but white, turned peach with the skin underneath. Snap. Powder in the air.
He sits down on a stool and hovers over my back. I haven’t eaten in two days. Ever since Alex, I haven’t been able keep much down. Ten months ago – that’s when I met him. Almost six months since I’ve had this thing etched on my back.
“Quite the work you've got, here,” the doctor says. I knew his name when he introduced himself, but it’s gone now.
“Can you get rid of it?” I ask.
“Black pigment is the easiest to remove. In four to six sessions, it should be gone; this looks like amateur work.”
Alex wasn’t an amateur. He was rushed. Distracted.
This clinic isn’t anything like Alex’s shop. There aren’t any sugar skulls and pin-ups, graffiti art or display cases full of gauges and tapers for stretching. It’s more sterile, cold. White, blue and fluorescent.
It’s not soon enough. If it wouldn’t leave behind a terrible scar, I would have cut it out of my skin months ago.
The doctor presses an ice pack over my side and readies the laser like a paintbrush. He glides it over the dips between my ribs. It blinks in sporadic jolts. Every blink is a hot rubber band against my skin. Every blink fades the black into moldy green.
My father was an artist. An insect taxidermist before the osteoporosis became debilitating. He arranged butterflies in patterns on white backgrounds, shiny blue and green beetles in pinwheels, and framed them as gifts. He worked at the town hall’s insect gallery. As a kid, I used to go out with him into uncultivated fields, searching for Tumbling Flower Beetles and Snakeflies. We’d store them in Tupperware and mason jars until we got home, and then would throw them in the freezer to avoid damaging their fragile bodies. Sometimes we fumigated them using sawdust soaked in ethanol. Nail polish remover worked in a pinch.
I visited the gallery a couple of months ago. Gazed at the Melissa Blue butterflies suspended with thin wire, Carpenter Ants pinned down through their thoraxes into white foam. I tried to remember which ones I collected with Dad, but all I could see were the pins. Drawers and drawers of display cases, clear glass meant for gazing. Flower Flies and Milkweed Bugs. Paper wasps, dragonflies and Arctic Skippers. Wings spread out and stabbed.
I resist the urge to rub my wrists in concentric circles. They feel tight, squeezed, held down. The bruises are still there, even if my wrists are healed.
The blinking stops, and so does the pain. “Alright,” the doctor says. The tattoo is faded, but still there. I can still see the angry word, with its rough edges and incomplete blocks. He puts a bandage over the wound, and I bring my t-shirt back down over my stomach.
I walk up to the receptionist and pay. Two hundred dollars. Sixteen hours outfitting mannequins, cleaning out change rooms and cashing out.
I zip up my hoodie and walk into the 7-Eleven next door. I don’t have any Ativan with me, and I’ve heard that smoking helps. Maybe the shaking will stop. I walk up to the counter and buy a plastic Bic lighter and a pack of strawberry-flavoured cigars that Montana used to smoke in our high school smoke pit.
Outside, I fumble with the lighter’s metal wheel, careful to not pull in too much smoke. It goes straight to my head, and my stomach flips. The smoke burns in my nostrils, and I push it out like a fidgeting dragon. It’s still cold outside, and my kneecaps rattle.
My phone buzzes.
“Sam?” The text is from a number not listed in my contacts. It doesn’t matter; I’ve memorized it anyway. I thought he would have given up by now.
Last June
I stood outside of K-Town Liquor, sweating in my sneakers. It was warm, and I felt stupid holding the multicolored horse piñata we had just bought from the dollar store.
Montana was inside, flirting with the guy doing retail. I could see her through the window, foot cocked behind her as she leaned on the counter. She tossed her blonde hair to the side. Three bottles of tequila and a pile of miniatures were on the counter – little bottles of Jäger, Triple Sec and Baileys. Maybe for the piñata, I thought. Montana didn’t tell me what it was for. She just told me to hold it until the party.
Montana had just gotten back from visiting her sister in Vancouver. She stole her sister’s driver’s license off her desk. Spent an entire afternoon alongside her and her husband, looking behind couch cushions and air vents in the floor. Montana said that a workable fake I.D. was worth an afternoon of labour.
We were both sixteen when she moved out last year. Her dad was ex-military. Once he found out that she was sneaking her boyfriend, Chris, into her room every night, she had to choose whether to move out or move to Calgary with her aunt. She convinced a landlord that she was eighteen – that was easy, almost everyone else assumed she was – and she got a job at Earl’s wearing black minis.
I met her on the first day of honours math. She wasn’t good at it, but she wanted to impress Chris. I let her copy down all my answers during quizzes – she wouldn’t have ever talked to me otherwise. I was shy, fifty pounds overweight, and couldn’t hold a conversation. Being the Bug-Man’s daughter didn’t help. But she needed a math tutor to pass, so I started to come over on weeknights. She got a kick out of getting me to identify the species of spiders that were in her apartment. Thought it was cool that I could pick them up with my bare hands to take them outside.
I squinted through the window. She gave the cashier a wad of twenties, took the change and stuffed it into her mini-shorts, and carried the white bag outside, bottles clanging.
She smiled and held up the bag.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
Her smile widened. “I know.”
A black pickup pulled up in front of the store, Chris in the passenger seat. Montana ran over to his side and yanked the door open. Kissed him on the mouth.
I stood on the sidewalk, held onto the piñata, and since I was staring anyway, waved to the guy driving.
Chris had his tongue in Montana’s ear. The driver barked something to them, and they got in the backseat. He rolled his window down.
“If you’re not too grossed out to sit in the passenger seat, it’s free now.”
“Thanks.” I sat down and shoved the horse between my feet. The driver had dark wavy hair that came to the nape of his neck, and was wearing a grey collared shirt rolled up his forearms. He had a sleeve of traditional tattoos. Sparrows, bannered hearts and nautical stars. Pin-ups.
He put the truck in reverse and turned onto the highway. Turned on the radio to drown out the smacking sounds from the backseat. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sam.”
“She’s my math tutor,” Montana yelled. I heard a seal break from behind me. The smell of tequila wafted forward.
“I prefer Sam,” I said.
He laughed. It was warm. Comforting. “That has a nicer ring to it.”
“Who’re you?” I asked. Felt my cheeks go hot.
“I’m Alex. Chris’ older brother.” He pulled up the turning signal.
I nodded and fiddled with the vent on the dashboard.
He followed my gesture. “I like your bracelet.”
Surprised, I took my hand away from the vent. It was hemp, interwoven with beads, feathers, and a jackalope charm. “Thanks. It was my mom’s. She used to have a shop downtown.”
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“It had lots of artisanal stuff. Jewelry, paintings from local artists. Wolves with hooves, geese with Pomeranian tails, that kind of thing.”
My dad was a weird mixture between an artist and a scientist. Maybe that’s why she liked him.
“Was it on Leon?”
I looked up sharply. He had dark eyes; his pupils were almost the same colour as his irises. “Did you know it?” I asked. “It was called Gilligan’s.”
“Like the island, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I remember it. The walls were painted with fish and bubbles.”
“Yeah, she had a thing for the ocean.”
He looked at my bracelet again. “And jackalopes.”
I smiled. “Right, jackalopes.”
“My shop is right next to it,” he continued, eyes back on the road. “It’s a sushi place now.”
I went down Leon sometimes, even though Dad didn’t like it. There were a lot of shopping carts, sleeping mats, and panhandlers. But I felt closer to her, even if the sign wasn’t there anymore. There was still a shadow of a large capital “G” underneath the logo of a maki roll. I ate there, sometimes. Pretended that she was still there, wearing a full-length skirt and hair extensions. She would take my hand and tell me about Kelowna’s emerging artistic talent. Show me which pieces weren’t for profit. Try to convince me to work the register while she beaded glass onto hemp string.
Then I’d finish my veggie tempura, pay, and leave. Remember the clumps of hair on the bathroom sink, the lingering smell of bile.
“Your shop. It just says ‘Tattoo’ above the door, right?” I asked. It was nondescript. Black lettering stencilled straight onto the stucco.
“Yeah. Hey!” he yelled at the Jeep in front of us. Jammed his fist onto the horn.
I pressed into the back of the seat.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” he continued. “I thought about calling it ‘No Ragrets,’ but it felt too cliché.”
“You could always add a subtitle.”
He laughed.
Montana stuck her head through the partition. “I forgot to show you.” She shoved her wrist in front of my face. It was inflamed, but a new tattoo was there. A tiny pink heart, outlined in black. “Isn’t it cute? Alex did it for me yesterday. It only took like ten minutes.”
“Cute,” I echoed, not knowing what else to say. I imagined it stretched, wrinkled and old.
Alex looked at me again. “If you ever want to get any work done, I’ll give you a great discount.”
I looked at his tattooed arm again. Felt like a child.
Montana’s apartment was terracotta and brick, with seventies wood panelling. She had a lumpy brown couch and a TV with only half of its screen working. An old Friends rerun was on, but only half of Chandler’s face was showing. Uncomfortable with the number of people who had shown up already in her small apartment, I went to the kitchen on the pretense of getting some water.
“Sam,” Montana called through the bar window. “Can you start the margaritas?” She was filling the piñata with Lindor chocolate truffles and the booze miniatures.
“Sure,” I said. I had no idea what was in a margarita, except that they were pink, and sometimes green. I plugged in the blender.
Alex came in behind me as I inspected the bottle of margarita mix. “Need any help?”
“Uh, sure.” I wasn’t sure why he would want to. There were prettier, shorter, drunker girls in the next room.
He went to the freezer and brought out a bag of ice. I hadn’t noticed before, but his fists were lacerated and bruised.
“What happened to your –”
Through the bar window, Montana screamed, “I forgot! We have nothing to whack this thing with!”
“Don’t worry,” Alex said, and left to get a baseball bat from the trunk of his car.
May
I’m at the gallery again, looking at a half-moulted damselfly that Dad and I caught seven years ago. It was clutched to a cattail stalk, and just starting to uncurl its abdomen from its old exoskeleton. Now it’s brown and shrivelled, but when it first emerged, the new form was green as a plant shoot.
My ribs ache from my last tattoo-removal session. There’s still a faint outline of a “W,” but the doctor said that my white blood cells will do the rest. They’ll carry the smaller ink particles to my liver.
“Sam?”
I look up from the display case. It’s Marianne, one of the gallery’s curators. She and Dad dated for a while – she used to come over for Sunday brunch and late-night Scrabble. I fiddle with my bracelet’s charm.
“God, I didn’t even recognize you.” Her face is wrinkled now, curly brown hair streaked with grey. She looks concerned, excited.
“Oh,” I laugh. “Pilates.” I leave out the hours I’ve spent leaning over porcelain.
“That would do it!” she exclaims. Her hair bounces, and her horn-rimmed glasses slide down her nose. “Which studio do you go to?”
I laugh again. “It was really nice to see you, Marianne, but I’ve got to get going.” I squeeze her arm. “I’ll come by sometime soon. Maybe we can do coffee.” The words are involuntary. I have no intention of following through; I’ve already bought my plane ticket, and my bags are almost packed. I found a decent apartment in downtown Vancouver, and there’s a coffee shop nearby that has agreed to do an interview whenever I arrive.
“Sure, honey. Tell your dad that the gallery isn’t the same without him.”
I straighten the strap of my purse over my shoulder and walk out the big glass doors. Dodge the hornets’ nest and the suspended black and yellow insects. The old angry words.
Last July
Alex was tattooing a wasp on someone when I first visited him at the shop. He hovered over the man’s neck, pushing the tattoo machine back and forth in short lines. His dark wavy hair hovered over the work. He wiped ink and blood away once every few strokes. His black gloves looked painted on.
The walls were covered in holographic images, spray-painted canvases and penciled portraits. I turned around to go back outside the moment I heard the buzz of tattoo machines. Montana needed help studying trig more than I needed to talk to a guy I had a crush on.
The receptionist called me before I made it to the doors. “Do you have an appointment?”
Alex looked up. Wiped his hair away from his forehead with a tattooed forearm. “Oh hey, Sam! Give me a minute – I’m almost done.” Push, push, wipe.
The receptionist gave me an anxious look.
I browsed the different display cases filled with metal bars and colourful plastic tapers, spiral wooden earrings and navel barbells. I pictured my unpierced earlobes stretched and droopy, pinned to the foam underneath the glass.
“Hey.” Alex was next to me, eyes on the Hello Kitty-stamped barbell I was looking at. He smelled like metallic ink and cologne. “What are you doing here?” His dark eyes were playful.
“I’m not really sure,” I admitted.
He laughed. “That was my last client.” He looked me up and down. “Hungry?”
“Sure.”
He opened the door for me and grabbed my hand.
Last September
Alex’s apartment was white. Sterile, purposeful, full of angles and sharp edges. His charcoal sketches were hung on the walls in neat rows behind identical black frames and museum-grade glass. Three inches apart on each side. He had a leather couch, hardwood floors, chrome appliances, and a large television. A queen-sized bed, bedside table, shaded lamp, and dresser in the other room.
I had been there for two weeks, and hadn’t been home in four. Dad was frustrated that he couldn’t be out in the field; he could hardly get out of bed and make it to the gallery with his bones grinding. Stacks of used clothing, mounting paper, embalming fluid and medication towered over him from every side. Half-empty bottles of bourbon and calcium. He hardly noticed when I left or came back anymore, and the food in the fridge was rotten. I was sick for three days after I ate a ham and cheese sandwich. I lost five pounds and figured I was onto something.
I stayed with Montana for the first two weeks until I couldn’t handle the loud sex or the smell of old vomit and beer anymore. She gave up trying to graduate on time, and she and Chris wanted the place to themselves.
I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my head, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The leftover water droplets on my face were cold in the air conditioning. Alex liked the chill.
He was on the couch, sketching a pinup with long wavy hair and face painted to look like a sugar skull. She was wearing a tight corset with Frangipani flowers decorating her hips and hair.
“She’s pretty.”
He smirked. “I’ve been inspired lately.”
“Cute, but she looks nothing like me.” Add another forty pounds and a face of freckles. Then we could start comparing.
He put the sketchbook down. Grabbed me around my hips and lowered me onto the couch. The towel came undone, damp strands of hair unravelling onto the leather.
“Does too.” His chest was reassuring against mine. His fingers entwined through my hair. He bit my lower lip, pulled away and let go. “Staying home?”
I was already going to be late for English. Wasn’t planning on going for History. “I was thinking that I might go see my dad.” I doubted he had eaten anything all day; I could stop at McDonalds.
He sat up and looked at me. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?” His eyebrows were creased.
“Of course I do.”
“No, you don’t. You just said you want to leave.”
I sat up, brushed the damp strands out of my face. “Why are you getting so upset?”
“I thought you only needed me.”
“I –I do. But he needs me. He's all alone in that crowded townhouse, surrounded by dead insects and broken picture frames.”
“There must be something you need that I'm not giving you. Tell me what you want, Sam. I can't read your mind.”
I didn’t know what to say. Alex still had that pained look on his face. I didn't want to abandon him.
June
The gallery isn’t the same without him. Marianne’s voice rings in my head to the tune of the bus’s high-pitched whine. The skyscrapers of downtown Vancouver flicker past in muted colours, metal and glass. I haven’t seen anyone since I moved. Didn’t even speak to Alex before I left. Freed from isolation, I have new skin, lasered and thin. Moulted.
A small, strange green insect steps across the window in front of my vision. At first, it seems like an apparition. It’s too bright. No native vegetation would be able to disguise it.
I reach for my phone and dial.
“Hello?”
“Dad, it’s Sam.”
“Sam?” he asks. “Where are you?” He sounds slurred, but not incoherent.
“I’m on the bus. I’m looking at a really weird insect. It kind of looks like a stink bug, with a shielded body. But it’s green. Bright green, like an apple. And it has pink petal designs around its abdomen. And small. Almost like a ladybug.”
“Hmm.”
“Dad?”
“Mm?”
“Do you know what it is?”
“It sounds like a nymph. Maybe a southern green stink bug. But that can’t be right.”
“Southern as in South American?”
“Mm. I don’t know what it’s doing way out there.”
I pause. “Me either.”
“Come home, Sam.”
The stink bug continues to walk across the glass. A middle-aged man spots it, and his thumb starts to move toward the glass.
“Stop!” I yell, and reach in my bag for my leftover Tupperware container. It still smells like thousand island dressing. I nearly feel the lettuce coming up again. I wipe it out with the bottom of my blouse.
The man looks at me like I’m out of my mind. I don’t care. I tap the insect into the container, close the lid, and place it at the bottom of my bag. I hope it will be okay until I get home.
I lift the phone back up to my ear, but nobody is there.
The bus stops, kneels, and a woman with a stroller gets on. It’s Montana, blonde hair dyed greasy brown. She’s in a faded pull-over hoodie, face covered in acne. I didn’t even know she lived here. Maybe she moved out here to be with her sister.
“Transfer, please.” Her baby shrieks.
Before she notices me, I collect my bag and stand up. She probably wouldn’t recognize me, but I don’t want to take the chance. I blend into the crowd by the door, and get off the bus.
I’m on Robson. Tall buildings filled with boutiques and cafes are on either side of the street. The sun is bright, and reflects off the windows like mirrors. I decide to catch the next bus at a stop a few blocks down. I wish I wasn’t wearing heels.
As I pass a Starbucks, a woman in jeans and a white leather jacket approaches. Her large sunglasses make her look like a praying mantis.
“Hi there,” she says through a tight, bleached smile. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I hesitate a second too long.
“Have you ever considered modelling?”
I can’t help but laugh. “No.”
“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” She rifles through her bag.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Here. Take my card.” She hands it to me, simple text on a white background: Margot Sheffield. Prima Model Management.
“Call me if you’re interested.” Margot walks away, stilettos clicking on the pavement.
Last October
Alex had been in bed for fifteen hours. He and Chris were at the shop last night tattooing drunken messages on each other. Chris dropped him off this morning and shoved him onto the bed. Showed me a new rabbit tattoo on the sole of Alex’s foot. It was warbled, with broken lines and incomplete shading.
I shook my head. “At least nobody will see it.”
“It was for practice,” he said, adjusting his baseball cap. “If I get good enough, he said I’ve got a job.”
“That’s great.” I’d never known him to have a steady job. Nor did he have artistic promise.
“Yeah. Well, see ya.” He gave me a sour, stubbly kiss on the cheek and left.
I spent the day watching TLC and going through one of Alex’s sketchbooks. A row on the bookshelf was full of them, identical with black covers.
Bored, I got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with cold tap water. Drank half, filled it again, and walked into the bedroom. Alex grunted. I put the glass on the bedside table and snuggled up behind him. Breathed in his hair and tucked my nose behind his earlobe. His shirt was damp despite the chill.
“Alex,” I whispered.
Nothing.
“Alex. Wake up.”
“Mm.” He grunted and rolled over.
I left the bedroom and went to the kitchen again. Grabbed a leftover box of pizza from the fridge and ate three cold slices at the kitchen table. Still empty, I went to the cupboard and grabbed a box of double-stuffed Oreos. Went back to the kitchen table and ate two rows. Peeled each one apart, grated the icing away with my teeth, and crunched through the rest.
I went into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Adjusted my top and pinched my sides. I lifted the toilet seat and kneeled. I didn’t even need to use my fingers anymore.
Something in the garbage can caught my attention. A dark-coloured cotton ball, and underneath, the black numbers of a syringe.
Last November
Alex was sketching on the couch again. I slipped out of my heels and manoeuvered behind him, wedging myself between him and the black leather. I put my arms around his neck and peered over his shoulder to get a better view.
He stiffened and shrugged me off, taking the charcoal sketch to a different cushion. The white paper was indented with harsh, black lines.
He didn’t look up. “It took you a while to get back.”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “I was at my dad’s.”
His fingers were black, and the charcoal crumbled under the force of his strokes.
“Look, Alex. I don’t need to justify seeing my dad. If I didn’t go over there once in a while, he would survive on potato chips and booze.” I was frustrated. Feeling bold.
He looked up, eyes blazing. They were dilated. A layer of sweat covered his skin. “I don’t think you went over there today.”
The accusation took me off guard. “But I was.”
His eyes glazed over, and stared too hard at a spot on the couch.
I leaned over to look into his face. “Are you okay?”
“Why would you lie to me? Don’t you care about me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you think I don’t know where you go? I’ve seen the way you look at other guys, wearing your new slutty clothes.”
“Excuse me?” I had to buy new clothes; the old ones were too big for me now.
“I think I feel more alone now than I ever did.”
I should have left right then, but I thought I could talk him down.
“I’m here with you,” I insisted. “I don’t want anybody else.”
He whipped around, and I felt his hand slam into my jaw.
Face first on the opposite end of the couch, I was too stunned to say anything.
“I thought you were different,” he was saying. “You’re the same.”
He had been explosive before, but never violent. I had never felt like I was in danger.
I stood up and started for the door.
He jumped in front of it. “They should know how much of a whore you are.”
“Who? What are you talking about?” I wiped one of my cheeks. My hand came away black with mascara.
He grabbed my wrist. Dragged me into the bedroom. I tried to grab onto the doorframe. Slipped. “They should know,” he repeated, voice broken. Over and over again. He threw me on the bed and ruffled through a nearby duffel bag. Came out with a pot of ink and his tattoo machine.
He forced my face into a pillow. I couldn’t breathe. I screamed and thrashed, tried to get a hold of the bed frame, but he was strong. Heavy.
I was dizzy. The cotton pillowcase was wet and salty. My lungs screamed for oxygen. Blackness was closing in on my vision. I tried to pry his hands away. And then nothing.
*
When I woke up, my ribs felt like they had been ripped into by a dull box cutter. The back of my head ached like I had been hit again. Maybe I had been. The tangy smell of him was all over the bed sheets. The shower was running, and the tattoo machine was still plugged in, thrown to the floor.
I felt my breath coming in short gasps, and put a hand over my mouth to stop. I needed to get out without him noticing.
My shirt was on the floor in a heap, torn at the neckline. I slipped it on, winced as I stretched. My pants were still on.
I tiptoed past the bathroom. The steam underneath the bathroom door met my bare feet. I grabbed my heels and purse in one hand, and glided the door latch open with the other. Pulled on the knob. The door creaked, and the shower curtain skirted open.
“Sam?”
I ran down the hallway, gasping before I was out of breath. Took the staircase, the concrete cold on my pounding feet.
I reached the bus stop just as the bus pulled in. Dropped some coins in the slot and sat in a seat next to the window. Curled into a ball and buried my face in my hands.
Fifteen minutes later, I looked up and pulled on the yellow cord. Got out at the next stop.
I was in front of Dad’s townhouse. The grass was un-mowed, and metal legs of the pink flamingo lawn ornaments were bent, their beaks hidden in the foliage. His rundown SUV was parked in the driveway.
As I walked in, I smelled booze and something rotten. I heard the Gilligan’s Island theme song in the next room, Dad humming along. Picture frames filled with mounted butterflies and moths were crooked on the walls, piled with weeks of dust. An insect graveyard. Piles of boxes were everywhere. Broken lamps, books and clothing.
My wrist throbbed where Alex had dragged me.
I snuck past the room and went upstairs to my old bathroom. My shirt was stuck to the wound, plasma and blood staining the yellow fabric brown. In the mirror, bruises on my jaw and neck were forming, pink circular splotches. There were ten of them, but I could only see the thumbs.
I took my clothes off, wincing as the fabric separated from my skin. The word was encrusted with blood and unwiped ink.
After showering, I padded down the carpeted hallway to my bedroom. My bed was covered in newly acquired thrift store items. I found a set of pajamas, locked the door, cleared a space to lie down, and slept for two days.
*
Dad didn’t know I was there. I stepped out for groceries once I woke up, using a twenty I found on my dresser. Milk, eggs, cereal, antibacterial liquid soap, gauze and medical tape. I’d seen Alex do aftercare on new tattoos before. It wouldn’t be hard to replicate. I made sure to wear a long sleeved shirt and a scarf.
Dad walked into the kitchen, confused at the smell of fried eggs and buttered toast. “Morning,” he said. It was four in the afternoon.
“Hi. I cleared out the fridge. Half of it was expired.”
“Oh. Thanks, kiddo.” His blue eyes crinkled through his round spectacles.
“And I figured out why it smells weird in here. When was the last time you took out the trash?”
“I thought I just did it.” He laughed. “Your mother used to do it, you know.”
“Yeah.”
We sat at the kitchen table in silence. Crunched toast and scraped metal on porcelain.
I knew that I should do this more often. Make meals, dump out booze. But I couldn’t stay here for long, nor did I want to. His E.I. would only cover so much, and the thought of being in the same town as Alex was stifling.
August
Prima Modelling Management is in an office that looks over Robson square. I stand against a cold, white wall, shoulder to shoulder with twenty other bikini-clad models. We’re all about the same age, eighteen, nineteen. Two scouts pace in front of us, pointing now and again. They jot notes on a clipboard like scientists.
“Uh,” Margot, the scout who gave me her card, gestures to me. “Samantha Cowen?”
I straighten and nod.
“Turn for me?”
I turn to the side.
Margot looks to the other scout. “Isn’t she editorial?”
He agrees. “Very distinctive. Kate Moss, almost.”
I feel the other girls stiffen beside me.
“Not quite as waifish, though.”
“I’m sure she can work on that. Can’t you, Samantha?”
November
I’m at Dad’s, sweeping rat feces into a dustbin.
“How you doin’ in there, Sam?” Marianne calls from outside.
“Fine,” I answer, but it’s muffled through my mask.
We’ve been hauling boxes and bags out of the house for two days. Dad is outside on a lawn chair, Marianne beside him, sorting through bins and trying to figure out what is most valuable to him. He can’t keep it all, but he wants to. He keeps finding Mom’s old stuff. Clothes, photos, old medication. Marianne is on edge, but doesn’t say anything. She keeps sorting, every few minutes taking off her mitts and wiping her hands with Wet Ones. There’s no snow yet, but everyone is in parkas.
I pour the contents of the dustbin into a full garbage bag. Haul it over my shoulder and set it by the entrance. The kitchen is cleared out, and no longer smells like rotten food. That’s good, because my weak stomach has already been put to the limit today. Above the table, my green stink bug nymph hangs in a tiny picture frame. It only lasted a couple of weeks before I had to mail it. I thought it would make Dad happy, but it’s hard to look at.
My throat constricts, and I make a beeline for the door. Zip up my sweater and tear off my mask. I grab the garbage bag and throw it all into the dump truck. Stare over the side until my stomach settles.
Dad and Marianne wave me over.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad says.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you all day!” chimes Marianne, glad for the distraction. “I was looking through Vogue this morning, and guess what I found?”
“Oh,” I say. Try to muster up some laughter. “Did you see it?”
“You bet I did!” She leans over and retrieves the magazine. Kate Winslet is on the cover. “Go to twenty-four.”
I take the magazine and flip to the page. It’s a Givenchy ad, three models posed with their mouths parted and delicate hands splayed. I’m the one on the left, head back and body turned to the side. I’m in a white dress, backless with slits going up my bare ribs.
“Now this,” Dad says, “is a good scarf. I have to have this.”
“No you don’t, Ron. We already have a box of them over there.”
“Where’s my drink?” He stands up and hobbles back inside.
“This is one for the scrapbook,” Marianne says, pointing to the magazine.
Or maybe it’ll be one for the wall, next to the stinkbug nymph and damselflies. I’m tired. Tired of being someone’s voodoo doll, stuck with needles and pins. I wish I could break the glass and free all the insects in the hall. That they’d flutter out, tap away on their hairy legs and skinny feet.
There’s a chunk of broken concrete at my feet. I pick it up. It’s heavy. The edges leave chalk smears on my hands.
I hold on to it, grab the magazine, and follow Dad into the kitchen. Take his keys from the kitchen table. Dad’s SUV is reversed into the driveway. I’m in the driver’s seat before anyone notices. The magazine and chunk of concrete are on the passenger seat.
The engine rumbles as I turn the key. I’ve never been behind the wheel, but it can’t be that hard. I rev the engine. Try both pedals. Nothing happens. I look over to the shifter handle. It’s resting in the “P” position.
“Where’re you going?” Marianne calls.
“Stupid.” I ram it back into drive and press a pedal at random. My chest hits the steering wheel, and the horn blares.
I try the other one, and the car takes off out of the driveway and onto the street. I know the rules of the road, sort of. I stop and look both ways. Try not to speed.
My heart pounds, and adrenaline pulses in my ears. The jackalope charm on my bracelet twinkles in the sun. If she were still here, she’d be in the passenger seat.
Dad and Marianne are waving from the driveway. They didn’t make it very far trying to stop me.
I take the back roads, get accustomed to the sensitivity of the pedals. Look over my shoulder every few minutes for cops.
Downtown, I stop the car in the middle of Leon. I’m next to the sushi place, can still see mom’s faded “G.” All the shops on the street are closed, lights out.
There’s a permanent marker in the back seat. One of the thick, wedge-tipped ones. “24,” I squeak on the magazine’s cover. Try to think of a simple phrase to go with it, but put the cap back on. There aren’t enough words.
I wish I had some kind of scandalous note with allegations, offensive photos of some kind. All I have is the magazine. Proof that I’m here, almost thriving. Maybe he’ll relive it, even for a moment, like I have been for the last twelve months.
After ruffling through the glove box, I find one of Mom’s old hair elastics. I curl the magazine around the chunk of concrete and fit the elastic around both.
I get out of the car and hear a cacophony of beeps and horns. I slam the door shut and plant my feet like I’m in middle school track, wielding a discus. With all my weight behind me, I fling the package through Alex’s shop window. The glass shatters, and the concrete block skids over the hardwood floor, bringing November air in with it.
A pedestrian screams, and I hear a siren in the distance. I wipe the leftover chalk on my jeans and get in the car.
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