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trustafarian-theserialfiction · 5 years

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They walked the junction strip, valence shifting from their mostly-decades-past timecapsule through to an encroachment of suburbanite-friendly "furnishings" stores, cafes and restaurants, and over at the other end was a splash of downtown with angry slogans on the plank panels up around a future condo highrise, where there was also a boutique looking dispensary. The road bisecting Dundas here was wide and flanked on either side of the intersection by a cheque cashing place in a heritage building and a crummylooking sub shop that boasted 30 years spent on the other corner. Everywhere else was a pub, gastropub, deli you could drink in, or sake/sushi bar. The most ridiculous of these as far as Dan could see, was a glowing beacon of nerdy dreckitude with a giant fishtank window, under a sign Dan realized said the same name Jean-Paul had said, just as Jean-Paul deftly turned to avoid some other pedestrians and placed himself next to the door, which he then held open for Dan. Still the impression of the coachman. Presumably it was intentional.

He glanced at the perfectly-put-together-punk bar staff and the making-an-effort young professional nerd patrons and the open-concept-dynamic videogamecouchpit, hedged by cabinetlike themed booth tables full of people and pitchers and nacho plates and noise, and felt, fortunately, sheltered by Jean-Paul’s presentablity, and company. Bruce and Mouse were already seated in one of the ostentatiously completeist booths, in either corner, facing them. Bruce waved excitedly—he was also Not Appropriately Attired, and looked more or less like he’d just stumbled out of a stoner pride parade for a minute to say hi. It would have been embarassing, Dan guessed, for him to be that out of place, someplace else. Here it didn't really matter because yeah, it didn't fit but eh, that didn't stand out. Although Dan had only ever seen Chuck E Cheeses in ads it reminded him of one, and he wondered why he felt stared-at as they waded into it; it seemed like they had opted to sit in the chuck-e-cheesiest both, too, which was unsurprising. The little Russian roommate was also out of place somehow, dressed like if a guy in a Jimmy Stewart movie was dressed like he wasn’t there to impress anyone, in shirtsleeves and nondescript slacks. Which was probably how he always dressed unless he happened to have hardcore regalia for scene occasions. Passing the other booths Dan thought Bruce must have chosen, because the gore booth seemed more like Mouse's cup, being starkly brutal.

“I thought you only ate things you grew or that someone threw,” he said to Bruce as he slid into the space diagonally across from him. Bruce looked glassy-eyed in the low amber light of the booth, and he was smiling widely.

"This place is new," as if that explained everything, probably because it rhymed. “Yeahhh… I s’pose one can always be more precise, or less," he went on, sawing his pint mug back and forth between his hands, his eyes on the beer swirling between them. "That was kinda a big ol’ duvet of a statement, wasn’t it. Y’know, a statement-statement. I’m super glad to be caught out! Really, I’m kinda against…statement-statements…” He seemed hyper, in a baked, lilting way, and sounded almost delirious. “There’s like, if I knew what was closer to heaven than this shit, I dunno. I’d live there,” he giggled. “Oh wait, ha-ha-ha.” He smelled strongly like heavy, skunky weed and another smell, like daffodils; Dan was catching it as it mixed with the various beer-and-bar-food-and-boardgames odours of the place.

“Well…party on, Garth,” he said. A hoot of laughter shot out of Bruce, and some other patrons glanced at their table from the bar. Across from him Jean-Paul was studying the short drink list, still, and beside him, Mouse was lounging, relaxed, glowering in the general direction of everything.

“Party ON, Wayne,” Bruce called back.

“I want to eat. I am tired of chatting,” said Mouse, who hadn't chatted at all since Dan and Jean-Paul’s arrival. The radioshow or podcast or whatever it was came to mind suddenly, and Dan was glad he'd heard some of it that Mouse had featured in, before seeing him again. It helped to frame him as human now that Dan had sort-of-observed him in some kind of social context in which he wasn't completely withdrawn.

Bruce bounced to his feet easily, almost clumsy, and waved at the bar, leaning out of the booth over Jean-Paul. One of the bartenders came over, looking amused and unannoyed.

After Jean-Paul had ordered his wine "and some crudites," Bruce announced that he'd been greenlit to order for Pete in case Pete hadn't shown up by the time they were all there. Mouse remarked that Pete was smart and had probably just taken an opportunity to have take-out picked up and brought back for him.

------

Once the food arrived, the group ate in near silence, at varying speeds—Bruce wolfed down his "spicy spacewich" and soup, and made various mewling noises throughout, while Mouse and Dan set more consistent, workmanlike paces on their consistent, workmanlike turkey burgers. Jean-Paul began with his wine, operating on his plate sedately after two glasses ordered and finished back to back. Dan felt the silence begin to press after most of his plate was cleared, and felt like taking a break before attempting another beer. He'd eaten more real food in the past 24 hours than he had since staying at his parents place, and it was making his mouth hurt, like it wasn't used to the abrasion of stuff that didn't come from a can. He ran his tongue around his sore gums, wondered what to bring up by way of conversation, and observed Mouse observing him in his peripheral, then realized that anyone openly staring at him would see his eye rotated to the corner. Dan wiped his mouth with his napkin, maintaining the weird peripheral eye contact. The little Russian watched him impassively, leaning back from his empty plate, half up against the wall. It was humid in the restaurant, and he could see Mouse’s dark grey hair sticking to the light sweat on his forehead, which was brightly flushed.

“I’m…wondering about your nickname,” he said it casually, attempting to sound somewhat respectful at the same time.

“Why? I think it is self-evident.”

Dan felt abashed but ploughed on. “Well, I suppose... that’s why I’m wondering. It seems,” he searched for a word other than belittling but had difficulty.

“One does not choose their own pet-name. You should ask Bruce.” Dan looked across the table at Bruce, who was in some sort of sexual-looking trance, still eating; his eyes were rolled far back and he was smiling, his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk as he motored up and down with his lower jaw. It annoyed Dan to watch, suddenly, and he looked away quickly. He found the use of the word ‘pet’ odd but considered it an artefact of bilingualism or whatever. Bruce loudly finished a huge mouthfull and made a noise that was slightly more of a sigh than a moan but was somewhat too obscene either way.

“Duuuude, fuuuuck. God, oh my God,” Bruce noted. Dan looked at him expectantly but instead of addressing the nickname issue Bruce called to the bar again, using the name he'd learned from their server earlier, and ordered a nacho plate and more drinks, "silly ones with, with funny hats and fruit and those embalmed cherries and straws, please." Dan wondered who was paying for it, suddenly feeling like Bruce wasn't.

“Um. Mouse’s…name,” he questioned after the order was taken.

“What, it’s Sasha,” said Bruce. He looked at Dan cluelessly. Dan filed that away, assuming he’d forget but thinking that it suited the little guy, who rolled his eyes without looking at anyone at the table in particular. He was still lounging, arms crossed.

“He wants to hear about why you call me Mouse,” he supplied to Bruce, although it wasn't true, because Dan already knew what the story behind it was, and had actually wanted to know what Mouse actually thought about the name itself. Bruce took on an even more inane energy, probably due to his drink order arriving rather than the subject, although Dan recognized him revving into story-mode as he passed out the other two silly drinks he'd ordered, one to each of them except Jean-Paul, who was still working wordlessly on drinking an entire bottle of wine glass by glass by himself very quickly without appearing to drink it very quickly, which seemed to be a lot of fun for him.

Bruce slurped his drink, reached a point where he could empty the rest into his mouth and did, and then explained that “it was a totally perfect fit—didn’t you see that ep of Law ‘n Order?” Dan hadn’t, and was annoyed that Bruce didn't remember telling him already, but shook his head no without interrupting. “Jesus, what did other families do together, god! My family, we’d always all watch el-oh together every weeknight—all nine kids piled in’ta the den arguin’ ‘bout ethical grey areas an’ relativity an’ shit. Plus, like, we had this sliding scale of Tangness game we’d play with Jerry Orbach season-to-season, ep-to-ep, right? Okay so, the rule is—”

“Tell him about the name,” said Jean-Paul, neutrally. He sipped his wine.

“Hooo, right, right. So there’s this ep with this dude who’s like this overbearing Russian Dad and he has this kid who’s like, totally conflicted about their relationship, and the Dad calls the kid ‘Mouse’ ‘cause he’s a dick about how the kid’s small an’ shy or whatever. The kid totally offed him, and McCoy was like—”

“Isn’t that a…kind of fucked up reminder? I mean, Jesus, didn’t…you,” he addressed Mouse directly to avoid choosing between the name he’d just learned and the name he was questioning the application of, “didn’t you live on the street for two years or something to avoid living with your father?”

“And?” asked Mouse.

“That seems like, why would you want to be called this name that suggests all that shit?”

“I find it very suitable,” said Mouse. “Should I not? The details of my personal history and the character Bruce identified are coincidental. I have known people, even strangers, to call Bruce, for instance, Spicoli. He makes no bones,” Dan noticed the use of the idiomatic phrase particularly “about what it is that he, himself, is. I had a bad relationship with my father. I am Russian. I am small. If people notice something about me without knowing me, it is that I am small. If they hear me being called Mouse, they assume it is because I am small—maybe also because I am prematurely greyhaired. If someone called me Mouse in the wrong way, I would be offended…but I would be offended by being called anything, if it was the wrong way. I maybe have had to fight some podcast listeners." He tried to picture Bruce’s podcast having listeners worth fighting, unsuccessfully. It occurred to him that Mouse might be telling him to stop being so familiar.

“‘Had to,’” echoed Bruce cheerfully, inflected with slight admonishment and air-quoting. He was giving Mouse an eye, if not the eye, with his head forward in a tilt.

“I have taught some unconsidered lessons in respect. I don’t make it my habit,” Mouse got up, which seemed like a conclusion, and after Dan stood so he could get out, went to the bathroom.

“You don’t make it your habit to talk to anyone, either, before your fists start the conversation first! You gotta relax,” shouted Bruce, drawing attention again. Dan looked at Jean-Paul, who was just finishing his wine.

“The story of Mouse’s nickname,” Jean-Paul concluded. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and folded his hands over his stomach, looking over at Dan. He waited.

“Was that awkward?”

“I didn’t think so,” said Jean-Paul.

“So, Mouse…” the name-use felt charged, now, “has a short…shortish fuse.”

“Mouse has a serious anger management problem. He needs counselling.”

“Is he…what should I watch out for? Can I avoid…” a broken nose.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to make him angry. I'm a polite person.”

“But you’ve seen him angry,” Dan was aware of the length of time Mouse had been gone and shoulder-checked just as he returned.

“Don’t be a dick,” said Jean-Paul simply. “He seems to get mad at dickishness.” Mouse didn’t seem perturbed by this commentary on him, but didn't add anything, instead starting at last on the creation Bruce had ordered him.

Who can tell when they’re being a dick, though? Dan asked himself. His ex had always told him when she thought so. Who can reliably tell what’s dickish to this guy, if he’s got unknown boundaries in unknown places. He noticed he felt done with dinner, on the verge of less than comfortable. His socially adrift feeling was catching up to him, or his awareness of its presence suddenly increased. He wanted to be alone with himself—away from his own wondering about his roommate's dimensions and the uncurling anxiety about safely interacting.

“I’ll…do my best,” he said to the table at large.

There was no comment on this because someone passing the entrance to their booth said something about something and it was like the hair stood up all over Jean-Paul and Mouse. Even Bruce seemed to emit a frisson of hostility, suddenly.

Mouse told Jean-Paul that “people should mind their manners,” loudly, and Jean-Paul agreed, loudly, sounding bored.

Dan was wondering how to beat a speedy path out the door without seeming like he was intentionally bailing just when that'd be really unhelpful, when Pete appeared from behind him, standing next to the booth. Without a word he reached over to Bruce's nacho plate remnants and scooped up a loose sample. Chewing, he noted "no," at the mouthful, Dan guessed, before swallowing and adding "the guac at La Rev is better, we're going next door."

"That's fine," Mouse told him, looking, for the first time, happy. "Done anyway, getting loud in here, you know?"

"Really." Pete looked unimpressed. "Who." Just then whoever had said something about something came back from the bathroom, and while Dan didn't see whatever Mouse did that cued Pete, he did see Bruce's face as he braced for impact. Pete took a step backward at just-the-moment, and whoever it was who'd said something about something stumbled hard sideways but didn't fall, and reoriented glaring at Pete's back. Whoever it was didn't say anything, and went back to whatever group was waiting. "Was that all," Pete asked over his shoulder.

"That's allllllll, folks," Bruce chirped without waiting, jumping up and making ushering motions at the three of them in the booth. They piled out, first from the booth and then the bar, after Jean-Paul left a stack of bills at the table, which looked like probably one more twenty than necessary.

Outside Dan expected to disappear again, down the stairs to the bar with the good guac, but they didn't, instead standing around at the fishtank window, making it clear that whoever it was who'd said something about something wasn't prepared to come out. Jean-Paul pulled out a cigarette pack and lit up, breathing plumes up into the night air. It was only about nine p.m. Dan was surprised that Bruce wasn't working on a joint since they were outside, but Bruce seemed to be upset about the idea of fighting. Dan wasn't keen, either, but wasn't wildly concerned once a group of people didn't follow them out.

"Cowards," Mouse remarked at them placidly, through the glass, ignored.

-----

Pete was really fun, it turned out, after Dan had watched him hold court for a while. And his taste in bars was more in line with Dan's own; La Rev was much darker, but warm and decoratively sedate, with much more seating and much less business. And they did have good guac--the best guacamole Dan had ever had, which didn't surprise him because the place wasn't a Taco Time Cantina and it seemed like they made it fresh by hand or something. He hadn't tried any of Bruce's nachos earlier, and his basis for comparison stopped at "narrow."

"So, aside from DJ, what've you done, what jobs have you had." This was the first time Pete had said anything directly to him since they'd changed venues.

It wasn't a surprising question, Pete was trying to contextualize him, and putting him on the spot, too. Glad he had what he assumed would be an acceptable answer, he said simply, "fast food." Pete was a socialist or whatever, right? Minimum wage had to have some shine of honour to it that lapdog didn't.

"And thief," added Jean-Paul casually, maybe running a bit of interference for him. A good friend, Dan felt. Deft, and merciful. The best. Pete spread a kind of assessing look between the two of them, calmly telegraphing that something was being measured. He looked a bit disgruntled, like it was supposed to have been a one-on-one interview.

"Cool," he said without sounding like he thought anything was cool at all. He waved at the bar and a second pitcher showed up. Dan and Bruce had helped with the first, mainly to be polite on Dan's part, and it seemed like the second was for Pete and Mouse to work on by themselves. "So you're going to do audio stuff for the shit show." Bruce giggled beerily at that, apparently not too precious to hear a shot fired at his deranged brainchild.

"Yeah," hearing himself, Dan sounded leery back, and realized it was the sound of insecurity. Pete knew he'd been out with Andreah, or maybe Pete just felt like everyone in town hated him. Dan suddenly felt extremely sympathetic, and realized he was drunk again, at the same time.

"What do you use, like what programs, what's your gear." His stress surged back, he hated being grilled about technical shit.

Sounding abashed he said "ableton, like the whole universe. But the good computer was my ex's, everything was hers. I've used everything, in highschool. Garageband and FL, all that. MIDI keyboards,"

"Do you have one, did you have one of those pad things? Beatpads?" Dan realized then that Pete didn't DJ or at least didn't know enough to keep the hot seat hot. Talking to serious techspecheads was the worst. He wanted to say, you might as well ask if I have a bop-it. But that was what he'd say to cut someone down for trying to cut him down, and that wasn't what he was trying to do here, he knew.

"No, we used synth keyboards. I never got good with a korg."

"So, what're you going to make for the show?" What was this, independent employee review? When would it end.

"I have to listen to more of it," was a good excuse, when he heard himself say it. It was true.

"I want him to do things like, you know how I'm always saying there should be a good version of good vibrations?"

"Right, the chorusless version," Mouse had been drinking mostly, ploughing through the pitcher with Pete. He put his glass down and added "why don't you do it yourself?"

"Oh, I know lots of other things, and I knew I'd meet someone someday who would know how to do that, so I didn't learn that. Obviouslyyyyy. Besides," Bruce wheedled, sounding pleased with himself and seeming to annoy Mouse, "I can't handle using audio software, those programs are so... dry." Dan didn't find them particularly dry, in fact they were like a kind of game, very visual--he was surprised Bruce didn't like them.

"Right, everything should look like candycrush," Pete scoffed. "He says the same thing about video editing. I've told them a million times they should do a youtube series. But spaceboy wont do the editing or find someone, and I'm too busy." And too not interested in working with others, Dan figured. Spaceboy was the perfect nickname for Bruce, Dan belatedly applauded to himself.

"What kind of video editing do you do?" That was the wrong question, Pete's glance at him was a glare.

"Pete makes concert videos and does independent protest coverage," Jean-Paul fielded, smoothing something over when he added "and he's good."

"Yeah, I can't afford him," Bruce was fussing in his seat and seemed bored of being inside. He looked like he needed a walk.

"Good thing you can afford this guy," Pete didn't really sound like he thought it was a good thing. "What've you been doing since you got here. Have you put together some kind of breakup lashback collection or what." He knew. Something, or all of it. Maybe Bruce had told him something to get him to agree to show up, or at some other point to get some kind of sympathy bond going. Then he remembered about Jean-Paul telling them about his roid. And whatever else about him. Like about his ex.

"I haven't done any music since leaving-- since getting here. Her computers, her gear, like I said. My laptop is from years ago, I don't even know what runs on it."

"So you've been..." He sounded suspicious.

"...exploring the neighbourhood, I guess." That was the most doing-stuff-like thing he'd done, and he'd put it generously.

"Oh yeah? So you're into urban exploration."

"I guess?"

"You do parkour at all?"

"...no." Who actually did parkour, come on, how was that not a low blow.

"So have you been up to the old incinerator up above St. Clair? It's fucking insane, we should do a show there. Bring the generator, do some flyers so there's enough crowd to mosh. I know this political rap crew, they really want to be on a line-up with these guys Mouse knows." Which did sound like an amazing show, even if Dan had no idea what the old incinerator was.

"I haven't been there, but yeah, maybe in the summer or something, right?" He could help carry stuff, it wasn't like he was being told to DJ, or MC it.

Pete looked disappointed and poured out more of the pitcher, telling him "everyone says that. Shutting off all winter is waste."

"Ease off," Mouse took his refilled beer, glaring. Pete shrugged.

"You should go to the old kodak factory too, its up that way, and see if that big place by the chocolate bar factory by Lansdowne is open anywhere, or-- how far east have you been? Have you been to, where've you been?"

Now that he was talking about something that apparently interested him a great deal, Pete was really firing up. Dan was glad, suddenly talking to him was fun, like listening to him without being grilled. "I, not. Listen, I've been to none of these places. I've been as far as, you know where the, the bridge thing is, where the, uh, the trains? Pass over the road, the one that crosses Dundas right before where we are?"

"Keele," Pete looked amused, at least.

"Yeah, so, that overgrown lot there, with the billboard. I've walked down the alley that runs around there, behind Dundas back up to the house. Like, from the dollar store to the house, and the sidestreets. I've been pretty much nowhere."

"That's pitiful. But whatever, honestly that's just how everyone is in the winter, I don't know what else I expected."

Bruce had been kind of wheeling around in his seat in fits, waiting for whatever his turn looked like. This, apparently. "GUYS. You know how the oogles took the map?"

Pete grumbled and Mouse continued to look annoyed. Jean-Paul had had the appearance of wishing to be elsewhere since finishing his wine one bar ago, but he said "sure," prompting.

"Let's make Dan a map! A big map! A new map for the house!"

"You can," Pete stood up to leave. "We all done here?"

Jean-Paul paid again and they trooped out into the night, Bruce still spazzing in anticipation, obviously supercharged by friend-time and too many "paper hat" drinks and beers.

"Let's go on an adventure!"

"You can," Mouse echoed Pete, close to his side while the other three waited on Jean-Paul finding his pack of smokes in his coat and Bruce sparking a short blunt he'd pulled out of somewhere. "I am going back."

"Same, I'm busy," Pete sniffed once and turned to go, the eye still on them travelled over them, making brief contact with Dan's line of sight. "But have fun." And the two of them walked away across Keele, heading toward the house. Mouse sort of nodded goodbye, with a glance at Dan specifically, it seemed like--the sliver of eye-contact was burned into his memory instantly, and for some reason played on repeat.

There was a weird feeling, it seemed to Dan, like he was sleepwalking and conversely brought to a focus by the parting, like he'd been challenged to prove something, and asked to do a favor, at the same time. Was he going to Brucey-sit or not? "Where are we going," he asked the ridiculous muppet, who was flopping his arms around dejectedly at them. "Pete mentioned doing a show somewhere near here, in some building?"

Bruce looked alert. "Yeah yeah yeah, let's go!"

"No," Jean-Paul groaned and swiped at his face with his gloved palmheel. "That's too far, it's cold. When its warmer. You two can go location finding. Tonight he should stay warm. We should all stay warm."

"Well, the condo with the good dumpsters isn't far..." Bruce looked scared he was about to shed party members, sounded plaintive.

Dan realized that Jean-Paul was trying to coral Bruce back toward home, and decided to support the effort even though he had just decided to stick with Bruce while he ran around outside. "Is it really worth going up to some dumpsters?"

"Uh, Yes. This would be like, the best night. No one else is out."

"No, but, will there be anything? Do they throw away that much packaged food?" He and his ex had never really kept food for it to go bad.

Bruce stared at him. "Well, no, that's stores and stuff. No, these guys throw away furniture and all sorts of other stuff. Stuff you couldn't imagine. How do you think we end up with so much stuff? So much stuffuffuf..." he shimmied in time to his own words. "Where do you think your mattresses came from for us to know they were just from a move? Rich people don't take anything with them. They know they can just buy it over again."

Dan thought of how he'd left all the clothes behind, left everything, and felt kind of guilty. "Yeah, I'll uh, I'm in. I can help carry, in case you find more futons or whatever." Bruce nodded giddily, hopping around them.

"Fine," Jean-Paul's breath appeared in front of him and Dan felt appreciative of the cold more accutely than he had ever in his life, in that second. "We're stopping somewhere warm on the way back," Jean-Paul informed them. "I'm still feeling generous." Dan decided he was drunk and not buzzed and felt like being drunk had never made so much sense as it did on a night like this. This face-biting, mind-distilling freeze that kept him from feeling sleepy but not distant or warm. Beer-jacketed. He licked his lips and they felt dry, chapped but at a remove. Almost another mouth. Someone else. They were walking up Keele already, the three of them, under the incandescent seeming streetlights and moving among flurries of light movielike flakes that skated around the street in tight syncopated formations. Trees swayed in their squares of sidewalk and across the street above a parking lot a weird whirligig was making noise, spinning. It reminded Dan vaguely of the thing the person Bruce had spoken to in Kensington had had in their hair.

Up near the train tracks there was a staircase and a stunted the-ad-said-fairytale-like kind of arbor garden under the looming grandeur of an ugly highrise, and it was there that Bruce wanted to swim through the leavings.

------

"Not far at all," he commented to Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul didn't reply but didn't look annoyed. Dan took his expression to be one of inebriated amiability. "We should walk back along the tracks, the fence is open right over there," he gestured with his chin, hands in his pockets. Their breaths hung around like ghosts, or chalk dust. Inverted shadows. Dan felt like he didn't usually appreciate beauty, and in noticing himself enjoying it he felt caught up by the unusual zest of the evening.

"Weren't we going to see if there was somewhere open for a drink before heading back?" That seemed strangely boring.

There was banging in the dumpster beside them. They were in a small bay of six or so metal bins full of truly weird detritus. Most of it really was household useable objects, but nothing they needed or wanted was immediately visible; it was mostly clean empty containers and old tupperware, luggage, small kid stuff, and lighting fixtures. Anything beyond that needed mining. There were also bags of diapers. Bags and bags of used diapers to wade through. Jean-Paul was smoking and Dan was helping by watching. For security.

"Didn't you drink a whole bottle of wine already?" Jean-Paul looked at him, and pursed his mouth.

"What can I say. I'm a bottle-and-a-half-before-midnight kind of guy. You obviously didn't go to college in Montreal."

"Obviously not." He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean but it came out sounding judgemental and he guessed that was all he really meant by it once he heard himself.

"I've been scaling back since my halcyon youth, you know. For my health." Jean-Paul paused, "It used to be two and a half." He laugh and, at whatever face Dan had made, laughed again and explained "It's just, I don't know, what you do in the winter. And the summer. And the spring. And fall. But mostly the winter...and the summer. But for sure the winter." He laughed again at himself and at Dan. "Oh don't be a hypocrite." That's just it, I'm not, Dan thought, knowing well enough to know it was alarming.

Not wanting to get into an argument he said "you never told me much about Montreal."

"What about it. The winter here's nothing. The summer here's better. People are meaner there. Lots of churches and bars. Lots of parties."

That wasn't what he'd meant. "I was asking about you at McGill, like what you took, or," when you moved here because of that band, he didn't say. That band that broke up. "Your radio show."

Jean-Paul looked taken aback and mildly offended anyway. "How'd you find out about that, I didn't put anything on my own facebook." His eyes narrowed at a noise from behind him, in a dumpster. "Bruce. That gossipy bitch."

Dan realized he'd given it all away already.

------

The trio started the walk back from what Bruce told them would be labelled Le Bougebinery on the house map. Bruce had found some old national geographics he seemed to find valuable, and two carousels of unmarked cds that apparently wanted checking, but otherwise they were emptyhanded, which pleased Jean-Paul, who expressed that it would have been more of a bother than an errand if they'd all had to carry furniture back, because he still wanted to stop in somewhere.

Dan was sort of floating in and out of the conversation, stressed about something but unable to name what it was. It was mixed up with drinking and Jean-Paul and feeling weird that he wasn't supposed to know things. Wasn't supposed to have been told. And wasn't supposed to bring up the drinking. Or the things he wasn't supposed to know. He felt like he really needed to see his mission to keep Bruce company tonight through, no matter what. "I'm still not carrying anything. And I can, I mean. Do you want to go... find... uh... groceries? Dumpster diving downtown?" The subway was running still, they could go check and come back up, just like that.

Bruce sniffed his runny nose and looked surprised, clarifying "that's Tuesdays, so you can help me tomorrow if you want. Make super cereal sure that I put the garbage collection zones and nights on the map when I make it, pleeeease." He seemed to peer ar Dan before deciding "Y'know back at the bougebins..."

"No," Jean-Paul said around his cigarette. "A quick drink and then back." He looked at Bruce, who had stopped. Jean-Paul sighed at him, crossing his arms and waiting.

"It's not even late. You're sooooo oooooooold."

Dan laughed at the two of them and Jean-Paul visibly relented, adding "fine," because he'd help with whatever it was Bruce had decided to get help with afterall.

Bruce smiled beautifically at them both. "I love you guys," he told them, sounding tearful and overcome.

#trustafarian #serial fiction #original fiction

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zucchinigal · 6 years

Note

1 - 50 for the end of the year ask meme :*

1. First things first, did you have a good year?

It was kind of a mixed bag. Like, January-May sucked, and September-Now kinda sucked also, but I had the best fucking summer of my life! Like it was constant good things!

2. How old did you turn this year?

21 :3

3. Do you feel your age?

Fuck no. I feel like I’m 12 most of the time

4. Did your appearance change in anyway?

Not really? I let my hair grow a little longer, and I let the purple hair dye from last year fade out (and I bleached the part I would normally dye), but it was more or less different variations on the usual look.

5. Post your favorite selfie.

I will do this in a separate post and tag you in it (don’t have any selfies on my laptop)

6. If you traveled, where did you go?

I went to Connecticut to see the Moody Blues! But that’s about the furthest I went

7. Which fashion trends did you love?

Vintage making a comeback!

8. Which fashion trends did you hate?

Idk, I’m not really up on trends

9. What was your favorite article of clothing this year? Post a pic if possible?

Uhhhhh… Probably the terrible red and blue paisley button down that looks purple from any distance other than right close up (don’t have pics of it rn sorry!)

10. What song sums up this year for you?

Hmmmm.. Let’s go with “Let Your Troubles Roll By” by Carbon Leaf

So many cities and windows and lives, and through each one there’s a soul that strives to survive, so pay no mind, my sorrow’s fine. The day is alive and that’s why I cry. Like New Year’s Eve, grab your list to conspire. The last snake hissed as he was thrown in the fire. You’ve come far and though you’re far from the end, you don’t mind where you are cos you know where you been

11. What album came out and has been on heavy rotation since then?

There’s three.

Nothing Rhymes With Woman 2016, which is a rerelease of the album of the same name, by Carbon Leaf (it came out at the tail end of last year, and I got my copy at the beginning of this one)

The Mission by Styx. It’s not too often that an old band like this will surprise drop a new album, let alone a concept album about going to Mars

Every Valley by Public Service Broadcasting. I really love it. Just. What more can I say?12. What was your favorite movie of the year?

You know, I don’t think I’ve seen a movie in theaters at all this year. So idk

13. Did an actor/actress catch your attention for the first time this year?

Not really

Favorite new TV show?

Star Trek Discovery!

14. Which new ship/fandom has taken over a lot of your time, attention, and tears?

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev from The Penumbra Podcast. Also I have a personal ship that’s part of a story me and my roommate have been working on

15. What food did you try for the first time?

There’s probably something, but I can’t think of it off the top of my head

16. Did you make any big permanent changes this year?

As an individual, not really. As a member of my family, we finally bought out my aunt and uncle and officially own my grandparents’ house, and are in the process of fixing it up so we can move in (this has been 2 years in the making come February)

17. What was one nice thing you did for someone else?

Supporting my roommate while they were going through some real rough shit

18. What was one nice thing you did for yourself?

Bought myself tickets to see (and meet) the Moody Blues over the summer!

19. Did you develop a new obsession?

I’ve really gotten into ELO in the last few months. Other than that, I just fueled the old ones (*cough* the moodies *cough*)

20. Did you vote?

No, though I should have. To do that I needed to get an absentee and I completely forgot to put in the application for it until it was too late

21. Did you move?

Not exactly. Like I said before, my family is in the process of moving (but it’s really only two blocks away from our old house), and I did some minor moves from college to home to summer apartment to home to college.

22. Did you get a job?

I had a research job up through the end of August

23. Did you get a pet?

I got a new plant if that counts

24. Do you regret not doing anything?

I regret not taking advantage of some of the resources available to me through my college. And some other stuff.

25. Do you regret doing something?

I regret waiting so long to start working on my thesis

26. Have you done anything that scared you?

Oh yes. Lots. I’m scared of everything lol. But like, I took my GRE, I went to Chicago (not on my own, but like, without my parents), I finally got my drivers license! So yeah, many scary things but I did them.

27. Did anyone/thing make you so mad it stayed with you for days?

Sure. There was some stuff that my roommate said/did because they were going through shit that really got to me and upset me

28. Did you lose anyone close to you?

No, not really

29. Did you fall in love?

yup

30. Did you fall out of love?

Depends on whether or not you count the thing I had back in the spring as “love”, because if you do then yes, if you don’t then no (this has no relation to the last question, because I did in fact fall in love again)

31. Did you start a new relationship?

In a way

32. Did you go through a break up?

I ghosted on a couple of dudes cos I got freaked out, does that count?

33. Did you have to cut ties to someone?

The two dudes I ghosted

34. Who was important to you this year but wasn’t important last year?

My good friendo Victoria (because I didn’t really know her then)

35. Who wasn’t as important to you this year as they were last year?

Idk

36. If you could have a do over on one thing you did, would you take it?

Most likely

37. What was the best moment of the year for you?

To be quite honest, meeting the Moody Blues. Hands down. Probably in the “Top 10 Moments of My Life” list

38. What was the worst?

The entirety of fall semester collectively

39. Did anything happen that you were sure would change you as a person but it really didn’t?

You know, honestly I think it was the Moody Blues concert. It was a religious experience in a way, but other than coming out of it happier than I’d been in a long time, it really didn’t change me as a person

40. Did anything happen to you that you were sure wouldn’t change you as a person but it did?

The whole thing with my roommate. I am just now starting to realize that it fucked me up waaaaaay more than I thought it did

41. What are you most proud of accomplishing?

Getting my drivers license

42. What have you learned about yourself this year that you didn’t know in the years prior?

That people think I’m sweet and kind and trustworthy and cute and happy and that I can help make other people happy even when I’m not happy at all

43. Did your opinion of anyone change for the better?

Well, one of my professors I guess, Dr. Stamm

44. Did your opinion of anyone change for worse?

Hooooo boy, oh yes. Two in specific- the treasure of the pagan club at school (of which I am secretary), and another one of my professors, Dr. Steiger

45. If you make resolutions, did you complete them this year?

I don’t really make resolutions

46. If you make resolutions, what will your resolutions be for the coming year?

Again, don’t really make resolutions, but I think this year I might set a goal to try to treat myself better and to try to seek out some help for my bad mental health

27. If you could go on an adventure during the remaining days of the year, where would you go and what would you do? Who would you go this?

You know, honestly I think I would like to stay right here at home. I’ve got a lot of adventuring coming up real quick, so I’d like to enjoy the calmness while I can

What do you wish for others for the coming year?

I wish that you all have good years. That things get to be a little less shitty, and that everyone can hold onto a little bit of hope. It’s hard, but I know you can do it. I wish you all good health, and happiness, and I hope something really good happens :D

What do you wish for yourself?

I wish… I wish that I get to feel better mentally, and that I get to have more good times than bad, and that all this stress and anxiety ends up working out and I end up in a better place for it all. I wish for some good things

Boy that was long. Thank you though!!

#asked and answered #queen-of-upshur #year end ask

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