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cannibalcoyote · 1 year

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Jack Celliers: Beautiful Eyes

Imagine your best friend/crush(Jack Celliers) discovers that you were a girl the whole time:

Jack Celliers, that's a name I haven't heard in quite a while. He was one of my closest friends, my best friend even, and he's the only one to ever figure out my secret.

The secret I try so hard to hide is that I am actually a girl, I just dress up and act like a boy so that I could go to the good schools, and eventually join the military. I don't know who my parents are since I've been on the streets my whole life; no one knew me before I put on my disguise, so it was the perfect idea, at least until I met Jack

I cut my hair short, but long enough that it will fringe over my forehead and in front of my eyes. I do this in fear that if I truly look someone in the eye, they may discover my horrid truth.

I have boyish features, a passably low pitch voice, wide shoulders, and a lean body, all of which aid me in keeping up appearances. I didn't have to wrap my chest when I was younger, but I started to when I reached my teenage years; this of course caused some problems, especially during physical education classes.

_______

The first time I met Jack was during my first day at school, no one knew me, and that was just how I liked it.

I had managed to get special entry into the school based on my high test scores, which are due to my self-education and extensive reading of all forms of literature. I hadn't been in a real school for years, and I was joining in at the age of 15; so I had grown into my more feminine features. Which seemed to solidify a permanent nervousness that emanated continuously throughout my bones.

Before I began my walk to school I looked in my broken mirror, rechecking the wrap around my chest to assure it was snug. I turned to the side and pulled my white uniform shirt tighter, just to make sure I was well hidden, and to my relief I was. Releasing a shaky breath I straightened my tie and shrugged on the gray jacket, smoothing it down before ruffling my hair and turning to leave.

The longer I walked the more my mind wandered. Do I still look convincing, my lips have filled out more, does my face look too feminine? I try not to smile or laugh as much, and I try to keep my talking to a minimum. Sometimes I'd accidentally break out of my facade, my true tone grabbing the attention of passersby; so I've learned to just not talk whenever possible.

_______

As I entered the school my attention was ensnared by the old charm of the buildings, the architecture, the plants, as well as the boyish atmosphere. I've never been in such a nice place before, I lived in an abandoned building most of my life, so this school feels like heaven.

I was so busy observing everything that I ended up tripping, having gotten my foot caught on a stone; I was about a second away from slamming into a brick wall when strong hands surprisingly grasped my shoulders at the last moment. They pulled me back up and safely onto my feet before relinquishing their grip, I felt anxious as I began to turn around, the stumble already had my heart racing.

The face I met was not what I expected - he looked to be about my age, and unlike most boys, he had a boisterously bright shade of blond hair. I had to look up a bit to greet him, but when I did, I found myself unable to speak. He was beautiful, his skin was light, and his eyes the most calming blue. I immediately noticed a slight peculiarity in his left pupil, but quickly shook myself, having realized that I'd been staring blankly for a few seconds.

I'm about to speak, but he beats me to it.

"Careful there, can't have you hurting yourself on your first day." His accented voice rings out through the noisy environment, and his face adorns a lovely smile with crooked teeth. I'm so entranced by him that I overlook how he knows it's my first day, instead anxiously attempting to form a response.

"Thank you, I really should pay more attention next time." My voice is a little shaky, and I get a nervous chill when I realize that I didn't lower my tone enough. His expression goes from welcoming to curious - maybe even slightly cautious, and a glint of something streamed through his eyes, but it was gone before I could interpret it. His head tilts slightly to the side as he silently gazes at me for a few seconds.

"It's alright, no harm done. Now what's your name? I'm Jack Celliers." He reaches out his hand, the grin reappearing on his face. I force my nervousness away as much as possible, reaching out my hand and carefully shaking his.

"Hello Jack, I'm Shiloh, Shiloh Carmichael."

_______

That was the day I knew I had met my best friend, he was always there for me, helping me with things that I didn't understand, especially when it came to maths and sciences. We were in the same year, which helped out a lot as we had a lot of classes together. I'd end up helping him as well, mainly with literature and history.

It took me a while to open up to him about my past - 2 years to be exact, but I eventually told him of my situation. How I have no memory of my family, that I live in an abandoned and crumbling building, how I learned everything from staying up at unreasonable hours reading as much as possible, how I only have two other pairs of clothing, and that I have to beg for enough money just to get them washed.

Needless to say, he became quite distressed and worried about my situation; don't even get me started on his reaction to learning that my first real meal was the school lunch I ate on my first day. My heart raced at the worry he was displaying for me, I wanted him to care for me, but not in the friendship way. I try to bury those thoughts though, he thinks I'm a boy, there's no way he would ever care for me the way I want him to.

_______

I scrambled into class just before the bell rang, my body shaking with adrenaline as the teacher harshly glared at me, telling me to take my seat in a curt tone. I nod my head as I rush to my seat, Jack immediately looks to me, offering a smile before returning his attention to the teacher.

I was unable to pay attention to any of my lessons, my mind kept straying to what happened last night. I had walked back into my 'home' after a tiring day of school that was followed by Jack talking me into playing a couple of sports games with him and his friends. I just wanted to fall onto my raggedy mattress and drift away, but the sight I was met with was a group of about 3 men.

They were all much larger than me, and ransacking through what little possessions I had. They all turned their heads to me, eyeing my backpack and nice uniform, glancing at one another before grimly smirking at me. One reached into his pants pocket and flicked out a switchblade, but before they could even take a step towards me I had bolted out of the building.

This isn't the first time this has happened to me, but it is no less scary; the last time I was caught they took everything but the clothes on my back.

Being a teen now, I hoped they would give up, but they chased me for a good while, almost catching me a couple of times, but they eventually gave up. I had run into a small store along a busy street, my lungs felt like they had been ripped in half, and my feet were about ready to fall off.

I had nowhere to sleep that night, and I had lost all my other clothes, meaning I was going to be stuck in this uniform for a while. I had taken my chest wrap off when I started walking home too, and I ditched it as soon as I took off, so I'm in a bit of a rough spot. This means that I have my shoulders constantly pushed forward, and my jacket buttoned all the way up today.

As lunch lolled around, I found myself sitting on the stairs away from the lunch hall. I just wanted some alone time to think, to try and figure out how to get spare clothes and a new place to stay. I'm sucked out of my thoughts by something landing in my lap, I glance down to see a soft, fuzzy looking peach. Staring up in confusion, I am met by the concerned gaze of Jack as he offers a quiet greeting. I want to respond, but I really have nothing to say at the moment.

After a second of no response he sighs, dropping himself onto the stair next to me, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks over to me. I, of course, avoid his gaze at all costs, only finally giving in after a few minutes of silence.

"What's wrong Shiloh? You haven't said a word all day, and now you're skipping lunch, you never skip lunch." His voice is concerned, he's sitting so close to me I almost want to blush, but I know I can't allow that.

"Jack... I'm f-" I begin, about to say I was just feeling tired from sports yesterday, but got cut off by him.

"Don't tell me a lie." His accented tone was sharp, almost warning me that there would be consequences. I shy away from him now, he's never talked to me like this, I don't want him to be angry at me, and I know lying will only aggravate him further.

"...When I got 'home' last night.. There were some people there." My sentence comes out hesitantly as I tentatively look at his stoic face, the sternness quickly shifting to concern.

"What?" His voice raises in surprise, he shifts his body to face me as I continue.

"To cut a long story short, I don't have any place to stay, and the only clothes I have are the ones I'm wearing. Everything else is theirs now... I'm just glad they didn't catch me to-"

"Catch you! You mean they chased you!" The shock in his voice is evident, but not as obvious as the distress that's radiating off him in waves.

A silence settles over us as his eyes shift from me to the floor, wringing his hands as he thinks, his mind seems to be running a mile a minute.

"You can stay with me." It takes me a few seconds to acknowledge that he actually just said that. My head snaps towards him, I can't help but be stunned. I open my mouth to argue, but the look he gives me tells me that he won't take 'no' for an answer.

My eyes dart to the floor, a moment passing before I release a sigh and reluctantly accept his offer.

_______

I tried to slip out of school before Jack could stop me; I thought it would be easy to disappear amongst the throng of students, but the hold on my arm tells me something different. I turn to see Jack giving me a warning look, his serene blue eyes holding a protective element in them. I turn my gaze to the students leaving before lowering my head, allowing Jack to lead me away.

The whole day I've felt on edge, maybe because I don't have a chest wrap on today, maybe it's because I didn't sleep last night. Or perhaps it's because I am undeniably attracted to Jack and now he's having me live with him and his family until further notice. How am I supposed to hide my true self now? How am I supposed to hide my love for him? It certainly doesn't help that he towers over me, all the boys at school say I'm short, but at 5 foot 6 I am the average height for a woman.

"I called my parents during break, they're fine with you staying with us, but they need the living room and guest room clear, so we'll be sharing my room." I swear my heart was trying to rip itself out of my chest with how hard it was beating, and I could feel my breath getting caught in my throat, but I tried to cover it with a cough before nodding my head 'okay'.

We stay silent the rest of the time, but I could tell that Jack had something on his mind that he desperately wanted to say, and it's making me nervous.

_______

Jack said his parents and brother were out until tomorrow evening, so we spent our time exploring the house; him showing me his room, the kitchen, where the bathroom and laundry rooms are, as well as showing me the garden. I could tell he was surprised when my face lit up at seeing the beautiful plants. I was so caught up that I grabbed his hand and dragged him around as I named all the plants as well as little facts about them. I couldn't see it, but he had a warm smile on his face as well as a light blush dusting his cheeks.

We spent our time sitting in the garden, doing our homework underneath the shade of the trees. Him helping me with my maths, myself helping him with his literature homework, he always seems to have trouble understanding the assigned chapters.

The sun was beating down a little harsher than usual for this season, and the jackets were making us a little stuffy. I shrugged mine off without a second thought, Jack doing the same thing, he turns and places his jacket beside him while talking to me about the passage. As he looks back towards me he suddenly halts mid-sentence. I look towards him in confusion, but his gaze seems to be even more confused as he looks from my face to my chest in a quick succession.

My entire body goes rigid as I realize my fatal mistake, quickly grabbing my jacket and wrapping it back around me. My breathing stutters as I hurriedly shove my books into my backpack before I hurriedly start walking away. Jack sits there for a second in shock at this revelation before bolting up, running towards me as I too had now begun to run.

I should've known better than to try and run from Jack for he catches me in no time, tightly holding my wrist as he pulls me back towards his house. I tried everything from sitting down to biting him, but nothing stopped him as he dragged me inside, only releasing me to shut and lock the door.

I drop my bag and bolt through the house and up the stairs, trying to find some escape; in my delirium I corner myself in his bedroom. I can hear him right behind me, slamming his bedroom door shut as he grabs both my wrists and pushes me back to the wall. I don't know what to think, he's probably just as confused as I am - maybe even a little angry. I'm also terrified, I could lose my best friend right now.

He hasn't said a thing to me the entire time, and now all the stress and anxiety is just too high, so high that I find myself no longer able to hold back the river of tears. I turn my head to the side, not wanting him to see me in such a weak and vulnerable state. His grip loosens as he surveys the situation, unsure of how to react, especially after what has just occurred.

"Don't.. Please, don't cry, Shiloh." His voice is soft, softer than I've ever heard him speak before, and his tone seems different than his normal caring one. I turn my head away from him even further, but he gently places a hand against my jaw, tenderly turning me to face him. I shut my eyes tightly, fearful of what I might see.

"Open your eyes darling." My eyes open slowly in shock, him calling me 'darling' sets my chest a flare as my attraction for him comes forward with a vengeance, my cheeks burning with a crimson blush, my tears slowing as I gaze up into his doting eyes. My hair still drapes over my eyes, obstructing our eye contact - something that he quickly fixes.

Gently raising his other hand, softly combing his fingers through my hair as he brushes it to the side. My breathing is shallow as I gaze deeply into his eyes, his cheeks also seem to be tinted red as he smiles affectionately at me.

"Much better, I've been wondering what your beautiful eyes looked like."

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cannibalcoyote · 1 year

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Jack Celliers: Sadie

Imagine your husband(Jack) finds you in the POW camp:

I've been here for so long that the beatings don't seem to hurt anymore. It's like I'm not quite in my body anymore, instead I'm watching it, almost as though I'm just an onlooker.

I don't know how I managed to get here, all I know is that I tricked my military into thinking I was a man, and next thing you know I'm out here fighting a war, only to be caught. My trial was short, I was nearly sentenced to death, but by a stroke of luck I was detained as a prisoner of war. That's not to say that I feel lucky, most definitely not, you have no idea how hard it is to hide being a female when you are a prisoner.

I've lost so much weight that I no longer have my period, so that is a big help, but I also know that this quick weight loss is incredibly unhealthy. Now the only issues I have include hiding the fact that I wrap my chest, as well as making sure that I consistently lower my tone.

I don't socialize too much with the other soldiers, I barely even talk to Lawrence, and the only reason I do is because he goes out of his way to initiate conversations with me. I think he has assumptions about my true identity, he does have quite the analytical mind, and I would have to be an award winning actress to pull the wool over his eyes; but as of yet he has made no mention of this towards me, my only evidence being the cautious glances as well as a sudden protective nature.

_______

I can't say for sure how long I've been here, but I know it's been at least a couple of months now. I've gotten closer with Lawrence, no longer minding our occasional chats. I seem to be the preferred punching bag for the guards, so I told Lawrence early on, that should anything ever happen to me, I want only him to treat me; I don't care how bad my injuries are, only he is allowed to treat me.

This is the third time this week I've ended up in our makeshift hospital, no one but Lawrence will even come near me in fear that my bad luck might rub off on them. I'm more than sure Lawrence knows I'm a woman, but he still hasn't said a thing about it to me.

All I know is that I can trust him... I hope.

_______

Lawrence's POV:

Bailey Stevens... quite a good soldier from what I remember, but I barely know him really, or should I say 'her'; because I obviously know that this soldier is a woman, and I suspect that she knows of my assumptions.

She's extremely reserved, which is expected from everything she's been put through; the guards here seem to love beating on her. I'm not sure whether it's due to her being physically smaller than everyone, or because she has an intrinsic need to act; probably both.

I can't help but feel a need to protect her, she's like the rebellious sister I never had. I can't allow the Japanese - or anyone for that matter - to figure out that she is a woman. Who knows what they would do to her.

_______

She's been unconscious for a couple of days now, only having brief periods of consciousness where she might drink some water, or says 'hello' before going back under. I don't know what to do anymore, I've told our doctor everything, and I've done everything he's told me to do, but she still sleeps the days away.

To add on, I've got another friend here now, Maj. Jack Celliers, another determined soldier who was born to act. I know I'll have my hands full with these two when they both get back on their feet.

It's late into the night when her form begins to stir, I quickly sit up, wondering if today will be the day her strength returns. I must admit that I've missed her rebellious spirit, though I also fear how she will react to having possibly lost sight in her right eye.

Her eye flutters open, wandering around the rundown building before focusing on me. She tugs the covers tightly against her chest, and I can see the underlying fear emanating from within her gaze, I can only offer her a soft smile to try and calm her down.

"I know Bailey... I know. No need to worry, your secret is safe with me." My tone is gentle and friendly, and I can see her body losing the tension that had been building. Releasing a quiet sigh before bringing a hand up to her face, gently running her fingers over the gauze covering her right eye. I feel my body slightly go rigid as she looks to me for an explanation.

"Bailey, during your last beating... you were struck quite a few times to the head... It caught you right in the eye. We're not sure whether you'll have sight in it when it's healed...I'm sorry."

_______

Bailey Stevens' POV:

My chest tightens at the explanation, knowing you might lose sight in one of your eyes is an incredibly scary thing to be told. Especially in a place like this where surviving is already hard. I raise my gaze to Lawrence and see the sadness in his eyes, he looks ashamed of telling me about my injuries, almost as if feeling at fault.

I reach out my left hand, softly resting it atop his.

"It's alright, it's not your fault." I offer him a gentle smile as he gives me his own. Our moment is interrupted by the groaning of another person, I look to him in question as to who it is. He responds with another smile before shaking his head.

"That's another troublemaker quite like yourself, Bailey." His voice contains a sad humor in it, one that makes me want to laugh and frown at the same time.

"What's his name?" My voice is a whisper, but I have switched to my normal tone, it feels refreshing not having to hide who I am.

"That would be Jack Celliers. He quite reminds me of you actually, almost ironically." His tone once again holds that same gloomy humor. I however feel my eyes widen in shock as I hear his name, my heart rate increasing at the thought of it being my Jack Celliers.

"Jack Celliers?" My voice holds confusion as well as surprise, I never thought I would see him again until the war ended, that or in heaven. When he left for the war, I knew he might never return, so I put on my disguise and rolled the dice. It's been so long that I thought I might never see him again, but here we both are, stuck in the same POW camp.

"Yes.... Do you know him?" Lawrence looks confused at first, but upon seeing the worry on my face, he quickly contorts into a knowing gaze; a small smirk grazing his features at my lack of response.

"Ahh, so you do know him." His voice raises above a whisper slightly, and I quickly shush him, not wanting anyone to wake up and hear our conversation.

"Yes... Yes, I do know him. Is he alright? What's happened to him? Is he going to be oka-"

"Slow down there Bailey... When he arrived his condition was just as bad as yours, but the doctors say he's recovering quite well and will be good as new soon." My whole body relaxes at hearing he's getting better and will be alright. As I lean back, a strong sense of sleepiness rushes over me, that and the pain of my beatings; but I've never fought harder in my life to keep my eyes open, I know Lawrence can tell I'm struggling.

"Is there anything you might want me to tell him should he wake up before you?" He speaks quickly, wanting to give me enough time to respond before I lose consciousness.

"Tell him.. tell him Sadie says 'hi'." You can practically hear my smile as I tell him to use my real name. He also gives me a smile, and that's the last thing I see before darkness consumes my vision once more.

_______

Lawrence's POV:

Sadie, what an oddly fitting name for the girl who acts to survive.

I quietly walk over to Jack's bed to see if he's is awake. I'm not sure this is the best time to tell him, but at the same time, who am I to withhold this information.

As I reach his secluded sleeping arrangement, I watch as he turns slightly, his eyes fluttering open. Recognition flows through them as we look at each other.

"Hello Jack."

"Lawrence." His voice is gravely, and I can tell his body is exhausted. I slowly sit on the bed beside his own, rubbing my hands together in thought. He looks at me as he awaits what I am clearly contemplating saying.

"Jack... Is there the possibility that you know someone named Sadie?" My voice is hesitant as I speak, but the look of recognition over hearing her name immediately tells me everything I need to know. He carefully nods his head, his eyes now fixed on me with a new sense of focus.

"I only ask because another soldier recognized your name and asked me to tell you 'hello'." I can see the confusion swirl in his mind as to how another soldier knew your name, or why they would ask me to say 'hello'.

"Jack... That soldier is a woman, who goes by the name of Sadie, and claims to know you. Is there something I should know?" When he hears that the said soldier is a woman, his body jolts forward, not only in shock, but concern as well. I don't know their past, but the way they react to hearing about each other tells me they are much more than friends.

"I have to see her." Jack gasps, hurriedly stumbling to get out of his bed. I immediately rush forward, providing support for him as he attempts to stand.

"Are you sure about doing this right now? How about in the morni-"

"No, I need to see her. NOW." He doesn't raise his voice at all throughout his sentence, but the way he speaks is with such conviction, such certainty and determination that I know there will be no talking him out of this. I hesitantly nod my head, helping him walk over to her own secluded sleeping area, carefully setting him down on the bed beside hers.

He just sits there, staring longingly at her unconscious form. He looks sad, depressed even, at the sight of her. His hand slowly reaches out, softly gliding his fingers over the rough gauze that covers the right half of her face.

"How... What happened?" His tone exudes concern, but his face remains stoic.

"She tried to stop the guards from harming another soldier, I suppose you could say she got their attention." My sentence is formatted in a humorous way, but my tone remains serious. She nearly died from this, I don't find anything about that to be funny.

Jack sat there for a few more moments, just silently thinking to himself as his fingers continuously drift along the gauze.

"Will she be alright?" His tone is slightly higher, like what happens when your throat tightens up in the early stages of despair. I can tell that seeing Sadie like this brings him immense pain, maybe even guilt, but I know that he probably doesn't want me to bring it up.

"She's quite the fighter, just like you. The doctor says she should be fine, but we have no conclusive evidence on what will happen to her eye. Odds are 50/50." I try not to sugarcoat anything, but I also try to be respectful of what I say. This is the woman he loves, the last thing he needs to hear is that she might not make it.

Jack solemnly nods his head. I move forward to help move him back to his bed when he suddenly looks up to me.

"Can I stay here? In this bed?" His eyes are pleading for me to say yes, and I know that if the woman I loved were here, I too would want to stay right next to her.

"... Alright, you can stay here. But there are some things you should know first. No one else but us two know that she is a woman, alright? And she goes by the name Bailey Stevens, so when she does come around, and others are awake, just call her Bailey, alright?" Jack's eyes burn with curiosity at hearing her chosen name, but he nods his head in understanding.

I say goodnight to him, before turning and walking off a little bit. Slightly intrigued, I turn and watch from afar as Jack gently kisses one of her hands before laying down in his own bed, not once facing away from her. My mind only has one thought running through it the entire time:

"This could either be really good, or really bad."

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cannibalcoyote · 9 months

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David Bowie: Don't Go

Imagine David Bowie falls in love with you the moment he meets you, but you're taken away; only for him to find you again after many years have passed: Warnings: Alludes to suicidal thoughts/ideation, abuse, abuse of power, feelings of worthlessness, injury, angst, apathy

1975

It was always loud around me, everyone shouting and screaming in my direction. Adoration emanated in their voices as they called my name, but all it made me feel was anxious and overwhelmed. I'm always running from them, these people that claim to love me... they lie when they say that, how can they love someone they do not know?

These manic strangers scared me, I never wanted to walk down the streets alone, but there were moments I would risk it simply for a second just to myself. I once thought of leaving this world, setting my soul free, abandoning this shell I am forced into. I was so close to going through with it, but then I met someone who forced a change in my perception.

We were young during our first meeting, I was several years into my stardom, usually caged up in my Los Angeles apartment. I hate Los Angeles, in fact, I hate California as a whole; the only reason I was even there was because my manager had forced me into this movie deal.

I wasn't unhappy with the movie, I had read the novel it was based on, and the script embraced a lot of the original elements. I couldn't survive there for long though, my mind was always leaving me, traveling elsewhere, to places with happy memories. The few moments of awareness during my day left me with an unending headache, it made me nauseous knowing that I was still alive. I felt like I was betraying God with these thoughts, that I was dishonoring him in some way with my destructive hatred for myself and my surroundings.

___

The first day on set was numbing, my manager had escorted me there, his firm glare setting me on edge; I know the only reason he was with me was to ensure that I didn't go against him. A deal with the Devil, he observed my every move, I felt like he was screening my thoughts before allowing me to speak.

I wanted to scream, to reach out to the people around me for help; but I didn't. I simply kept my eyes down, only speaking when the director or cast members addressed me directly.

The day was nearing its end, I had been encapsulated with this crowd and wanted a moment of quietness, I knew when I was back in that apartment that I would be yelled at. He would be angry that I seemed so disinterested in everything, furious that I had the audacity to try and come here without him.

I nervously skittered away from the people, moving swiftly towards the door as my heart rate raced. I was so close, it would only offer me momentary relief, but that was better than nothing, better than this everlasting flame that was burning me from the inside out. I felt cauterized from the heat, forever stuck in this flesh prison until my untimely death. Yet, death offers me no salvation, in this world of sin we are doomed to return, to relive these traumas until we learn something from this negative world.

One foot was out the door when a hand seized my wrist; had it been my neck, I'm sure I would think I was being strangled. A chilling shiver scraped along my spine, it was that uncomfortable feeling of knowing I was caught. The air in my lungs felt suffocating, the heat of my body sweltering as I glanced at the hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" I look sternly at my manager, surveying his aura and body language. I can tell that he is nearing the end of his rope, the 'patience' he has is running thin. I remember the first time I hired him, I thought he was respectable, he looked like a business man with his hair combed back with his immaculate suit, speaking to me with high revere.

Not many things have changed about him, he still speaks well of me - now only to possible clients or partners; his way of dressing has only gotten finer with the money I bring in, but the young man I hired was long gone. He's been my manager since I was 12 and he was 36, I'm now 19, him being 43. The full head of black hair is slightly graying at the sides, his athletic physique gave way to slight obesity - but the strange type of weight gain where he is top-heavy in the chest, if that makes sense.

He used to make me feel comfortable, he wouldn't yell or scream at me, but that was back when my parents were always around, as soon as I turned 18 they upped and left. They still sent me requests for money every now and then, well aware I would oblige. I know they likely think I wanted them to leave, but what I wouldn't give for them to come and stick their noses in my business.

"...I'm going to the bathroom?" My voice feels like it's grating against my throat, as though I haven't had a thing to drink all day; however, I know he wouldn't let me go a day without 8 glasses of water. That may sound like he actually cares for me, but he knows that my albums are the reason behind a lot of my wealth, and he refuses to let anything damage my voice.

The eye contact we hold burns me, I don't know what else to do but hope he believes me. I sigh in relief as he releases his hold, sending a curt 'get going' to me before turning away. I haven't felt happy in a long while, and though I know what I'm feeling isn't happiness, it still reminds me of it. I want to rush forward, but force a steady walk, going straight past the bathroom and outside.

The sun is obnoxiously bright, I want to go back inside, but I know he will be waiting for me. I shuffle over to the back of the building, a lonely bench awaiting, luckily sheltered away from the sweltering sun. My back aches as I collapse onto it, head falling back against the wall as I quietly groan in dissatisfaction. The traffic is loud, I can hear airplanes in the distance, and the footsteps of people along the sidewalk.

God, I wish I was somewhere else, I wish I was back home in Montana, or maybe at my seldom used cabin in Idaho. I want to not see another human being for miles, I want trees and wildlife to surround me as I write and draw, but I know that won't happen anytime soon.

The thoughts overrunning my mind lower my awareness of my surroundings, so much so that I only become aware again when someone sits next to me. The alarming aura of a person so near, this is the closest a stranger has been to me without my manager in sight; I can't remember how long ago it has been since I talked to someone without him watching me.

I observe them from the corner of my eye, he's taller than me, dressed in a casual black suit with a hat, his orange-blonde hair coaxing my attention. I know who he is, we were briskly introduced during the meeting, but he was surrounded by an entourage that kept people away from him.

He glances to me, our eyes meeting for an instant before I turn away from him. I'm not sure how to talk to him, it's been so long since I was able to speak freely that I fear I don't know how to anymore.

"So, what are you doing out here?" His accented tone rings out sharply, dancing through the noisy ambience, my head subconsciously tilting as I listen to him. Turning my face to him, I'm met by his piercing eyes paired with his angular face; I almost want to huff at how exact and fine his features are.

"I could ask you the same." I state, holding a steady gaze, watching as his eye flicker over me before returning ahead.

"I saw you leaving, and I wanted to know where you were going." He responds, voice smooth as he brushes his hair back neatly.

"So you followed me?" The sentence flows from my mouth so quickly, realizing what I've said makes me feel bilious. I gulp, looking over to him as I await a yell or a glare; surprised when he lets out an amused laugh.

"Don't make it weird." He giggles, looking down to his hands. He looks up to speak again, but a concerned look washes over his features.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." The sentence strings along, his body shifting towards me as all his attention is focused on me. I'm confused at first, wondering why he was reacting like this before realizing I must look tense and pale.

"No, no, it's alright. It's not you." I quickly respond, resting a hand gently over his own to calm him down. I once again speak without thinking, not realizing I told him indirectly that I am in fact uncomfortable.

"So that's why you're out here." David states, his hands gently holding my own as his concerned expression magnifies. I pull my hands away in fear of the repercussions for this conversation.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I scowl, glaring at the wall opposite us. I hurriedly stand up, worried about staying out too long, I don't want my manager getting suspicious.

I squint my eyes against the weather, the sun burns as the heat overwhelms my sense. I want to cry, but I know that I can't allow myself to. David stands as well, and I'm about to walk away before feeling something being placed atop my head. Glancing over to David, I notice his hat missing, my sight no longer being hindered by the sunlight. I gaze at him in suspicion, what does he want?

"What?" Is all he says, a smirk playing on his features as he leads me back around the building to the front door. I try to give him his fedora back, but he simply pushed it back to me, telling me to keep it. I thank him, a smile trying to appear on my face as I look up to him; he grins to me before walking away, leaving me alone.

___

My manager was pissed, he knew I lied about going to bathroom, and was even angrier when he saw I had David Bowie's fedora clutched in my small hands. He snatches it from my hands, I open my mouth to argue, but the look on his face tells me it'll be much worse if I speak.

I follow him through the crowd, weaving carefully so that I don't touch people. We reach the group surrounding David, my manager saying we have something of his. As he walks towards us, my manager shoves the fedora into my hands before shoving me forward. I can tell David is confused by the situation, I hope he didn't see my manager push me.

"What is it (Y/N)?" This is the first time he's used my name, I don't know why it stunned me, maybe because no one cares enough to know my real name, instead calling me by my pseudonym. I nervously glance away and look back at my manager, I can tell he wants to yell at me, but he knows he has to wait.

"I-I'm returning your fedora, you must've dropped it..." I reply, hoping he goes along with it.

"What?" His bewildered response matches his expression, I don't know how to get him to go along other than to rephrase myself.

"I was coming back from the bathroom and saw it on the floor, you must've dropped it." I explain, looking him firmly in the eyes as I hold out the hat. His eyes now hold understanding as he glances behind me.

"Oh, thank you... Can I speak to you for a moment?" He responds, grabbing the hat and then my wrist to pull me forward. I yelp weakly, my wrist hurting from its past abuse. David glanced down at me in worry just as my manager moves forward and grabs my shoulder.

"We need to get going, you have another meeting in a half-hour." My manager interrupts, bundling me away before David could even blink. ___

My manager is fuming, I can tell by the slight jitter in is movements as he forces me out of the building and down the street. I know he wants nothing more than to yell at me, make me cry, but he will have to wait until we get some privacy before he can do as he pleases.

The car ride is anything but pleasant, he may have opened the door for me, but he shoved me in so fast that I knocked my head against the frame. The headache is splitting through my skull, the mixture of pain and internal agony is catching up with me. My manager angrily slams his door and begins driving back to my apartment; he wastes no time laying into me.

"What the fuck was that!" He shouts angrily, fists clenching the steering wheel to the point I think he's fantasizing that it's my neck.

"What?" I try to play dumb, but I should've known better.

"Don't give me that bullshit! I know you didn't go to the bathroom, you snuck out so you could talk with that singer!" He states with a scowl, glaring at me before looking back to the road. I can see the sweat layered upon his brow, perhaps the sun is getting to him as well?

"I didn't!" My response is halted quickly, my manager reaching across the center console as he smacks me sharply. I want to say I' surprised, but I'm not, though that does nothing to numb the stinging pain as tears burn my eyes.

"You wanna rethink that response." He grits, I can tell he's furious, and he'll do as he pleases no matter my answer. Involuntarily curling into myself, I make no move to respond, wrapping my arms tightly around my abdomen as I look out the window. My lack of response is only going to anger him further, but I can't seem to care anymore.

When we arrive at my apartment, he's tossing me in as soon as the doors unlocked. He pulls me back to him so harshly I can hear the fabric of my sweater tearing as he scrunches it in his fists. I subconsciously put my hands up, trying to get away from him. He heeds my movements, shoving me away just as harshly as he had pulled me in. The action is so sudden that I'm thrown off balance, taking a moment to recollect myself before turning back to him.

I go to say something, but have no time to contemplate my words as something is hurled at me. I try my best to dodge it, but my actions are in vain as the object meets my eye. The left side of my face radiates in pain as I fall backwards into the wall in surprise, my hands flying up to my injury as I try not to cry. I look down at the object and see my favorite book was what had been thrown, Jane Eyre... my manager can't seem to get enough of ruining things I love.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I only notice my manager approaching when he already has his thick hand wrapped around my throat, thus pinning me to the wall I've taken solace in. He grabs my wrists with his free hand and forces them up and away from my face.

I try to observe him as he analyzes my face, his once kind eyes seem so empty, when did that happen? His hair is thinner, and though he's out of shape, he still overpowers me with ease; who is this man before me? I want to look at him more, but the agony of my injury overpowers my wants, eyes stinging as the tears cloud my vision before streaming down along my cheeks.

"You'll need to cover that for tomorrow, I'll bring you a bandage." Just like that, his hold is gone and he exits the apartment. I'm alone in this apartment, silence settling back into it as the furious tornado that is my manager has left the vicinity. If someone came in, they would think me strange curled up in the corner with tears in my eyes; no one ever sees who causes them, but they always have an opinion.

___

He did as he said, bringing me a roll of Coban with some gauze so I could pad my eye against the adhesive bandage. I hadn't look at my eye throughout the night, not wanting to see the damage, but knowing it must look bad as my eye had swollen shut.

I wanted to assume the mirror was lying to me like everyone else does, but I know it wasn't. The bruising was light as it hasn't been more than a day, the contusion will darken later on as it fully forms; the swelling wasn't as bad as I assumed, my eyelids were definitely swollen, but I could peel them open slightly to view the sclera flooded in red due to burst blood vessels. Brushing those thoughts away, my manager shoves open the bathroom door and grabs the bandages from my grasp, grumbling about me taking to long as he wraps my injuries.

The car ride there is a stark contrast compared to yesterday, the silence was almost more eerie than when he yells, but I try not to think to hard on it.

Anxiety bubbles up in my throat as he parks the car and exits, what will they say? This is opening the door to unwanted questions, what if they find out my manager abuses me? What if they take his side?? I don't get too much time to think as my door is opened by my manager as he signals for me to get out. I do as told, hesitantly walking into the building after he enters.

The building is thankfully not nearly as crowded as yesterday, today only requires the actors/actresses, costume designers, and music producers to be present.

I stand there silently as I wait for the group to be called to focus, but I'm disrupted from daydreaming as I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around, coming face to face with the director, Nicolas Roeg.

"Hey Y/N, you're manager called yesterday and explained that you got injured while playing with your cousins. I know how head injuries can be, so let me know if you start getting headaches, or if the noise or environment gets too overwhelming. Alright?" This man, he was so nice over the phone when asking if I wanted to be a part of this project, how could I forget him, especially after how kind he's being now?

I grace him with a thankful smile, nodding my head. He smiles back, giving my shoulder a pat in reassurance before turning away and walking to converse with someone else. I am about to go back to dissociating when another tap is felt, I want to sigh, but halt my actions when I meet eyes - well, eye - with David Bowie.

I can tell he had his words prepared before walking over, but I feel like they abandoned him as soon as I turned around. I can only assume it has something to do with my new lovely injury, I know for a fact that I alone cannot leave a man speechless.

"Darling, what happened?" He's concerned, that much was audible, but I know I need to make that dissipate if I don't want my manager to have a repeat of last night.

"Oh this... it's er, nothing, happened while I was rough housing with my cousins." My lie was almost seamless, but the hesitation in my words at the beginning was noticed by him, the squint in his eyes at my words gave that much away.

"I'm fine, honestly David, no need to worry about me." I voice, trying harder to get him to put this on the back burner. He's conflicted, eyes glinting with so many different emotions I can't seem to keep up. Luckily though, he bows his head slightly and nods at my words. I can tell he's still uncertain, but at least he's stopped talking about it.

I didn't try to avoid him the rest of the day per say, but we were working on two very different parts of the film; he was the lead Actor, and I was working on the film scores as well as dabbling in the costume design. We weren't around each other very often, and if we were, they were but fleeting moments.

He had me cornered during our lunch break actually, but my manager put a quick stop to that, dragging me away to talk with some fans outside; at this point, I think he's doing everything in his power to keep David and myself separate.

The hours go by, Roeg and my manager keeping me plenty busy. I would say that I barely noticed my injury all day apart from the constant headaches and dull ache that seemed to keep building up the longer the day went on. I know Roeg said to tell him when it was getting bad, but let's be honest, my manager would have my other eye if I said anything.

As the day is coming to an end, people begin leaving, my manager says we can go after he uses the restroom. He fixes me with a hard look before going in, basically telling me,'do something stupid, and we'll have a rerun of last night.' His eyes looked so dark I felt a nervous chill run down my back as I took a step back.

"Y/N!" I hear a voice call, turning around to be met with that same fedora as yesterday.

"David..." I greet uneasily, glancing back to the restroom in fear my manager will walk out at anytime. David seems to catch on and speeds past the pleasantries.

"Listen, I'm going to the preview tonight if you'd like to join me, I can pick you up tonight if that's alright with you?" His offer is said with such a hopeful voice and sweet look that I almost agree right then and there, but then reality stabs me in the back.

"Y/N." That voice nearly startle me out of my skin with how hard I jumped. My shoulders turn stiff as I look back and watch as my manager stalks closer, gripping my shoulder before steering me to the door.I turn my head quickly, making eye contact with David and his crestfallen face, giving a smile with a slight head nod to confirm his plans. I watch for a second as joy encapsulates his face before I'm forced out the door into the obnoxious environment of Los Angeles.

My manager leaves early, stating he has a meeting to get to before the day ends, leaving me alone in my apartment. He usually stays gone until the morning, that of which I'm thankful for, or else I would never be able to have David pick me up.

He arrives when it's already dark, around 7 pm when the last streaks of sunlight are dissipating. His driver goes to get out, but David beats him to it, walking over and opening the door for me before getting back in on his side. We both sit in the back and his chauffeur takes us to the movie theatre. It was a quiet ride, I think he could notice how jittery and uneasy I was; he held my hand and offered a comforting smile, reassuring me until we felt the car halt.

We sat in the back, hoping no one would notice our presence. The movie was good, it held my attention the whole time - well, at least until David nudged me, motioning with his head for us to leave. I do as told, standing and following him as he led me down the hallways and back into the main room.

"Whats wrong?" I ask, unsure why we left half-way through the film.

"Nothing, I just want to spend some time alone with you." He states, before grasping my hand, leading me outside and down the quiet sidewalks. Los Angeles at night is better at night I would say, a little more quiet with much better weather.

There is a hint of a breeze though, sending light shivers down my back whenever a gust came my way. My clothes aren't really the best for this weather, a knee length dress with only a feathery shawl to protect my shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry darling, I should've told you to bring a jacket." He voices guiltily, detaching our hands before shrugging off his suit jacket. He stops me from walking, grabbing my shoulders and turning me to face him as he wraps the large jacket around my thin frame.

It swallows me up, a blush tinting my cheeks in embarrassment, I must look ridiculous to this man. David notices the blush, a wide grin spreading over his face at how adorable the site before him is.

"I must look ridiculous..." I say, looking down self-consciously. David simply huffs and removes his hat and placing it delicately atop my head, it's much too large, sliding down over my eyes and blocking my sight. He laughs gently, angling the hat so that I can see again, his toothy grin being the first sight I'm met with.

"You look adorable." Is all he says, wrapping his arm comfortingly over my shoulders before continuing to walk us down the street. I can confidently state that my blush has not faded throughput the entire exchange.

We both remain silent, simply enjoying the presence of the other as we saunter down the pavement. We pass many quiet cafes still open, him stepping to the left and halting as he opens the door to a warm cafe. I cautiously enter, removing the hat and surveying the interior closely.

A young woman sits sleepily at the register, the only other people being a middle-aged couple at a table against the wall. The lights have a warm hue to them, complementing the earthy tones of the walls and tables.

Glancing back at David, he offers a soft smile, resting his hand on my lower back before leading me to the register. The woman quickly writes down my order, not looking up until both myself and David have ordered.

I hold my breath when I notice that familiar glint in her eye, backing up subconsciously in fear she will shout our names and alert someone to our presence. If the paparazzo found out I'm here, and accompanied by David Bowie no less! The scandal would be horrific.

David holds me steadily in comfort as he smiles at the woman, he holds a finger against his lips to stop her, I glance at her in worry that she still might scream. She looks overwhelmed in excitement, but breathes deeply to calm herself down when she notices my reaction.

"Sorry! I just love both of you so much!" She whispers happily, still in shock of meeting two of her favorite artists. I feel the tension in my shoulders lessen as she only whispers in excitement.

"Thank you, it's nice to meet you to." David says politely, nodding to her before leading me away and to a table cozied up in a corner.

Our night was wonderful, David and I talked the night away, enjoying multiple drinks the longer we stayed up. I've never felt so at ease with another person, and we could converse for an extended amount of time without awkward silences or uncomfortable glances; how could someone so wonderful seek me out for company? Is this a blessing from God, or is Satan about to take him away from me.

___

After that night, I've looked forward to seeing him everyday, a smile gracing both of our features whenever our eye(s) meet, but we are both swept away. My manager found out about my late night escapade rather easily seeing as I didn't return to my apartment and was instead brought to work by David(no nothing happened, I fell asleep during the car ride back, and David decided it would be easier to just take me to his home instead of go up into an apartment building while trying to find my keys).

My manager was thoroughly pissed, but his physical punishments still didn't deter me from seeing David, but he always did know how to ruin a good thing. The movie was over, it had already been in theatres and what we were attending wasn't required work anymore; my manager took full advantage of that, signing me up with another director to work with them on film scores.

This new job took me across the country into New York, the director was very well known, Martin Scorsese, and the film was Taxi... Taxi Driver I think. It sounded interesting I guess, maybe a little on point for it being called Taxi Driver and set in New York.

I didn't even get to say goodbye to David, my manager had dropped the news on me the night before I was to fly to New York. I didn't have anyway to contact David, but I'm not even sure if he would want to stay in contact... Either way, I'm leaving tomorrow whether I like it or not.

_______

1982

It's been a little while since I've agreed to do another film score since Taxi Driver, that film was surprisingly fun compared to my last experience, but maybe that's because my manager wasn't there with me most of the time.

None of that matters anymore though, after the success of taxi driver I fired that abusive prick, and I honestly couldn't be happier. I focused solely on my albums and dropped 7 of them throughout the past few years. I took a break from movies, I was too young for them and the change of environment when I was 19, but now I'm 26 and feel ready to face the world.

I don't actually know a lot about this film, other than the title and one of the actors/film scorers. I believe the film is called Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence? The actor/musician I'm talking about is Ryuichi Sakamoto, and he's honestly the main reason I took this job; my albums blew up and have been making me a fortune, so this is really just for fun and the experience.

I'm walking down the road, suitcase in hand, trying to figure out how the hell to walk in sand. I'm about halfway to the hotel when I hear someone approaching from my side. I don't turn to them, hoping they'll keep moving and we won't have to awkwardly introduce ourselves.

"...(Y/N)? Is that really you!" What? I.. I know that voice. I turn to them, eyes wide as I watch a face from the past stride over to me, face plastered with a wide grin.

"David?" At the sound of my voice, his strides turned into bounds pretty much, I could see he was truly ecstatic at seeing me, and it would be a lie to say I don't feel the same.

I start walking towards him, dropping my suitcase as we embrace enthusiastically. How could I not? This man, this wonderful man that changed me for the better, made me see that my life was worth more. You beautiful man, I'll never disappear again, I promise.

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