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bellakitse · 4 years

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Lovin' you is a gift tonight (Lovin' you for all my life)

Ten years ago when Alex leaned in for a kiss, Michael panicked and with it missed his shot. He's lived with that regret for a decade. Some things are always meant to be though and fate gives him a second chance when he runs into Alex at an airport as they wait for their delayed flight.

stuck at the airport fic 13.6K

Michael Guerin has no one to blame for his current situation but himself. Well, maybe he can also blame the weather, which, if he thinks about it, was absolute shit because of global warming, which is the fault of power-hungry politicians and greedy corporations. So really, he isn't the one his sister should be yelling at, not that Isobel Evans cares to listen right now.

"What do you want me to do, Iz?" he asks for the second time when she pauses from lecturing him to take a breath. "I just spoke to one of the attendants at the gate; the flight is delayed because of the snow."

"If you had booked your flight when I asked you to," she starts, repeating herself for the millionth time. He exhales loudly in hopes it will stop her, but not the least surprised when it doesn't. "Instead of waiting till the last minute, you could have gotten a flight from Boston to Dallas to Roswell instead of having to stop in Denver. Where of course there's snow, because it's fucking Colorado, Michael."

“Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20 and all that, Isobel,” he tells her, sighing yet again as she scolds him some more. He takes a seat at the far end of the terminal where there are fewer people, most of his fellow passengers are closer to the gate door, taking their frustrations out on two flight crew members who have the unfortunate luck of being there.

There is only a small cluster of people where he is. An elderly couple who seemed satisfied in dozing off against each other to his right. A woman to his left with a small child who has his face pressed against the window watching the ground crew that is trying to clear the runways, and a man in ripped jeans and a worn leather jacket, sitting across from him. Michael can’t see his face as he roots through his backpack, but what he can see, he likes.

Dark glossy hair a little longer on the top as the fringe falls over the guy’s eyes. Michael spots a few days’ worth of stubble when the guy turns his face, which does nothing to hide sharp cheekbones and the kind of jawline Michael would like to sink his teeth into. He looks down at the guy’s hands as he sorts through his bag and catches a glimpse of chipped black nail polish and silver rings; it makes Michael’s stomach clench as it reminds him of someone else who liked that look. He’s always had a thing for the rocker vibe, and this guy is filling it to a tee. Michael really wants to see his face and see if it matches the rest of the already pretty package.

“Michael, are you even listening to me?” Isobel complains loudly over the phone, distracting him from enjoying the view in front of him.

“Not really,” he answers honestly, shifting to get comfortable on the airport’s hard plastic chairs. “I tend to tune out your bitching,” he tells her, and the guy makes a sound, indicating that he’s overheard the conversation, his head still in his backpack.

Michael smiles, oddly pleased that he’s amused him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“According to you, I’m always an asshole,” he continues, and the guy’s shoulders give a small shake as he finally looks up.

Michael spots brown eyes and full pink lips curved upward. They’re beautiful, but it’s the man’s eyes that Michael is stuck on. Eyes he’s seen before but not in ten years, eyes that haunt his dreams to this day. Eyes that are widening as they look back at him with recognition.

Alex Manes.

“Guerin?” He asks hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper, while the disbelief is loud and clear.

He ends the call without saying goodbye to Isobel.

“Alex,” he croaks out, his voice cracking in a way it hasn’t since he was a teenager. Given that he hasn’t seen Alex since then, the irony isn’t lost on him.

Alex Manes, the guy responsible for his bisexual awakening.

He gives him another once over now that he can see his face, his gaze no longer interested in a stranger, but instead in the guy that in his private moments, he calls ‘the one that got away.’

At 17, Alex had made the angsty emo look work for him, now the eyeliner was gone, but the edginess was still there. He wasn’t in head to toe black like back in the day; there was a soft-looking green sweater peeking out under his leather jacket, and his hair wasn’t spiked up with vast amounts of gel. Instead, it looked soft, and Michael’s hand itched to touch it.

He recalls the last time they were truly alone. Alex’s kindness still, to this day, warms him from the inside out. The lack of hesitation in Alex to let Michael use his shed when he needed a warm place to stay. How he had given Michael his first guitar just because Michael liked to play, and Alex wanted to do something nice for him.

There is a flutter in Michael’s stomach as he thinks about Alex, gentle and hesitant, leaning in to kiss him. Just as quickly, his stomach drops as he remembers how he turned his face away at the last second in a moment of panic. An action that Michael instantly regretted and has continued to regret ten years later.

After their failed almost kiss, Alex kept his distance, letting him continue to stay in the shed but never coming back to spend time with him, and before he knew it, they were swept up in the excitement of graduation, and after that, Alex was just gone.

He knew enough about Alex's family life to see that he wanted to be as far away from his father as possible, and the boy had not waited for a second longer than he had to. Diploma in hand, he’d gotten a bus out of Roswell, leaving the town with Rosa Ortecho. By then, it was too late for Michael, who was only just realizing that Alex Manes was someone that mattered more to him than anyone outside of Max and Isobel. Leaving Michael with the painful realization that he’d missed his moment.

“What are you doing here?” he blurts out as he gets out of his chair and takes a step towards Alex, instantly cringing at the volume and speed with which he says it. He comes to a halt as Alex startles back in his seat. “I mean- that is-“ he stammers as he waves his hand nervously, feeling his face grow hot. Alex lifts an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say something coherent. “Hi?”

Alex stares at him for a moment longer before he breaks out into a smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Hi, Guerin,” he says, taking a step towards him as he stands, and Michael realizes with a jolt that Alex is going in for a hug. Luckily his body isn’t stuck on stupid like his brain and mouth, and he gets it to cooperate in time. He wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders and tries not to do something mortifying like let out a moan at the feel of Alex’s hard body against his, or worse, press his face into Alex’s neck and inhale his scent like a total creep.

“Hi, Alex,” he mumbles into his shoulder, holding on longer than it’s probably acceptable to greet an old school friend. Fortunately, Alex proves to still be kind and lets Michael hold him, not commenting on the lingering hug, even though his own hands are now loose at Michael’s waist.

Knowing he can’t prolong the embrace any longer without making it weird, he tightens his hold one more second before pulling away without stepping back. This close, he can see Alex’s stupidly attractive face and commit to memory all the ways its change. Gone is the boyishness from years ago. At 28, Alex Manes is a man, and it shows. His features are more defined; the facial hair adds a ruggedness he didn’t have in their youth. There are faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth that makes Michael glad to see them. High school Alex didn’t laugh nearly as much as he should’ve, not when there were bullies at school and an even bigger bully at home, but as glad as it makes him to think of a happy Alex, it’s mixed with a sadness that he wasn’t the one there to make it happen. There is a small scar above his right eye, and he instantly wants to ask him about it as he touches it. He does neither and instead finally takes a step back.

“Hi,” he says once more, and he hopes his smile isn’t as lovesick as it feels, but he’s in front of his teenage crush, that he’s never completely gotten over, and his palms are sweating, his pulse racing.

Alex grins, his eyes flickering with laughter. “Hi, again,” he teases. “Long time no see, Guerin.”

Michael licks his lips nervously. “Ten years.”

Alex nods, still smiling easily at him as he takes back his seat. Michael hesitates for a moment, before deciding that sitting across Alex is too far. He grabs his carry on and rolls it to the seat next to Alex's. He says nothing, looking at him welcoming as Michael sits beside him.

"Where are you headed?" he asks as he tries to get comfortable.

Alex huffs out a laugh. "Roswell."

Michael raises an eyebrow at that. As far as he knows, Alex hasn't been back to Roswell since he left. Michael doesn't go back as often as Isobel would like, but he does go home when he has the time to get away from MIT. He always tries to ask Liz, who is dating Max these days or Maria DeLuca about him, and while he knows that they visit Alex. Alex does not come home, it's a simple fact.

"Yeah, I know," Alex laughs some more. "But you know Liz and Max Evans are together now, right?"

Michael nods, his brother managed to convince Liz to give him a chance when she moved back home over a year ago. He doesn't say that though, since as far as the world is concerned, he is just friends with the Evans twins and not related.

"Well, she's pregnant," Alex confesses, and Michael gestures once more. He knows that Max has been happy-slash-freaked-out about his future half-human, half-alien spawn. Luckily Max had told Liz their little green secret before they got pregnant, much to Isobel's displeasure. Michael’s too, even though he understood Max wanting to tell the love of his life the truth. He looks at Alex and feels a spasm; deep down, he knows that if he were ever to risk telling his secret to a human, it would always be Alex Manes.

It's not the least bit logical, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"Anyway," Alex continues, oblivious to Michael's heavy thoughts. "Liz wants Rosa there for moral support when she tells Arturo, and Rosa called me from California asking me to come for a visit because, and this is a direct quote: ‘if I have to go back to the desert punk, so do you.’" Alex rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "And knowing Rosa, if I had said no, she would have flown to New York just to drag me home, so I figured I should save myself the hassle and just cave to her demands, she's scary when she’s annoyed."

Michael smirks. "Rosa Ortecho is like 5'2," he teases him.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Alex looks at him, unimpressed. "Because I lived with her for six years before she got tired of the east coast winters, and decided to head to SoCal. She might be tiny, but her rage is giant."

Michael laughs, and it grows as Alex gives him the stink eye at his amusement. He's more than ready to continue to tease him when his phone starts ringing. Looking down, he cringes at the caller ID. He's surprised Isobel has waited this long to call him back and yell at him for ending their call. Alex tilts his head to sneak a peek at his phone, making a sound in his throat when he sees the contact name.

“That wouldn’t be Isobel Evans, would it?” Alex questions, making another noise like a laugh when Michael nods, his finger hovering over the answer button. “So, do you want to keep teasing me about being scared of Rosa?”

Michael looks over at him. “At least Isobel is taller,” he tells him, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at him. Alex grins at him in a way that tells him that while he didn’t give in to his urge, Alex knows it, nonetheless. He rolls his eyes and presses the call button.

“Yeah?”

“You hang up on me!” Isobel yells into the phone. “And then you answer yeah,” she says, mocking him. She is loud enough that Alex can hear her, making him cover his mouth to keep her from hearing his laughter.

“Something important came up,” he tells her, looking at Alex. His heart ticking up when Alex raises a teasing eyebrow at him as he points at himself.

“And what’s that?” she demands, loudly.

Michael stares at Alex, locking eyes with him.

Alex holds his gaze, his lips parting as he stares at Michael, and he can only imagine what Alex sees on his face. “A beautiful boy, I used to have a crush on back in high school,” he answers, his gut clenching when Alex lets out a soft sound, his eyes wide as he looks at Michael.

Isobel takes in a sharp breath. “You don’t mean- “

“Yep,” Michael tells her, smiling when she swears. Isobel is the only person who knows about his decade-long feelings for Alex, and he appreciates that she instantly understands the depth of the situation.

“This is literally the only reason I accept you hanging up on me,” she tells him after a moment. “I want details the second you get here, which will be soon, right?”

“They still have us waiting,” he says, looking away from Alex, who is still watching him, with a considering look on his face and over to the screen where it’s again flashing that his flight to Dallas is delayed. “But they haven’t canceled the flight yet, so here's hoping we know something soon.”

Isobel makes a noise of agreement. “Okay, keep me posted.”

“I will,” he assures her.

“Okay,” she says again. “Go get your boy, is he still emo?”

Michael looks over at Alex again, deliberately checking him out. “More of a rocker vibe.”

Alex’s lip twitches.

“Hot?” Isobel asks, pleased.

Michael licks his lips, pleased when Alex tracks the movement. “He was always hot,” he tells her, smirking as Alex shakes his head even as he smiles, and there is a gorgeous blush working its way over his cheeks. Isobel laughs in delight as she says goodbye.

Michael presses end to the call and waits for Alex to say something, anything. He doesn’t look upset that Michael was blatantly talking about him. The way Alex’s brown eyes seem to have darkened, the soft press of his teeth to his bottom lip, tells Michael that Alex isn’t indifferent to him at all. That sexual tension they had as kids is still there for him too.

“So it seems we have a lot to catch up on,” Alex finally speaks, standing up. Michael does the same. “And something tells me that it will be better over drinks,” Alex continues with a glint in his eyes that makes Michael’s stomach flip. “Bar?”

Michael grabs the handle of his carry on and steps closer to Alex, his skin buzzing from being near him and the way Alex looks at him now, so similar to years ago. “Lead the way.”

They don’t say much as they walk away from their gate, nor as they sit at the bar, waiting for his beer and Alex’s jack-n-coke. It’s only after their drinks are placed in front of them that Alex seems ready to talk.

“I have a lot of questions,” he admits as he sips his drink. “Especially after that phone call with Isobel, but I’m not sure how to start.”

Michael thinks for a moment, smiling when an idea comes to him. “20 questions?”

Alex lights up at the suggestion, nodding in agreement with a sly grin.

“I’ll go first,” he says quickly, which earns him an indulgent look from Alex. “Where did you go after high school?” he asks. He knows snippets from his friends when they mention him, but it’s never enough for Michael, who has been longing to know everything about Alex for years.

“I went to New York with Rosa,” Alex starts, turning in his stool to look at him. He tells him about arriving in the city with his friend, sharing a shitty studio apartment with her, working even shittier jobs, while taking online courses. He tells Michael about Rosa getting clean with time and pure grit.

Two Roswell outcasts against the world Alex tells him, smiling the whole time, and Michael can tell that while it obviously wasn’t easy being broke teenagers in New York, he loved every moment of it. “I would play my music in dive bars, and then one day someone heard me and asked if I wanted to write music with them, and I have been doing it ever since.”

“A songwriter,” Michael says with a smile, and Alex returns it brightly.

“I never wanted to be a rock star,” Alex tells him, chuckling as he waves at his clothes. “Despite my appearance. I just wanted to write songs and hear other people play them. I get to do what I love and keep my life private.”

“That’s amazing, Alex,” he says, happy of him. He remembers how little Alex smiled, and now in less than an hour of being in his presence, Michael thinks he’s seen him smile more than all the time he knew him.

“Thanks,” Alex says softly, looking down at his hands as he plays with his rings. He looks back at Michael from under the pieces of hair that have fallen in his eyes. “Your turn, did you go to UNM?”

Michael nods, blushing when Alex gives him a huge smile. “UNM for my undergrad, and now I’m at MIT working on my doctoral in Mechanical Engineering.”

“Dr. Guerin,” Alex teases gently, his smile beautiful. “Damn, Guerin, I always knew you would do amazing things with that big brain of yours.”

It’s Michael's turn to feel bashful as Alex looks at him proudly.

“And Cambridge,” Alex continues casually. “That’s only a few hours drive from New York, to think we’ve been so close all this time.”

Michael turns to look at him; there is a hint of a smirk on Alex’s otherwise neutral expression. “Next question, anyone special in your life?”

Alex tsks him. “You asked the first question. It’s my turn.”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope, you asked me if I went to UNM, and I answered, so it’s my turn again.”

Alex narrows his eyes at him, the hint of a smile on his face. “You sneak. Fine. Is there anyone special in my life?”

Michael nods, licking his lips as he waits in anticipation, letting out a breath when Alex shakes his head.

“New York has been a fun playground for this gay boy,” Alex grins wickedly with the confidence of a man who has discovered his hotness and uses it to his advantage; it sends a spike of heat through Michael. “Much better than Roswell, where I was the only gay kid, that was out anyway,” he says, shooting Michael a loaded look, letting him know that Alex hasn’t forgotten his talk with Isobel. “But no one serious, guess I'm still looking for a boy to love me."

Michael swallows down on the overwhelming urge to scream, 'I volunteer as tribute' like he's Katniss-fucking-Everdeen.

"Your turn to ask a question," he says instead, and instantly feels his hands sweat as Alex turns even further in his seat to thoroughly look at Michael.

Michael does the same, and their knees bump as he turns in his stool. Alex spreads his legs to accommodate him, but all it does is draw Michael’s attention to the fact that Alex's pants are tight and that his parted legs emphasize that little fact. Hiding nothing, like the fact that he's pretty sure Alex isn't wearing underwear under his jeans. Michael feels a little light-headed.

"Did you really have a crush on me back in high school?"

Michael’s head snaps up from where he'd been staring, swallowing hard around nothing. The bravery he had felt when he made the comment earlier evaporating in the face of a direct question. But as he looks at Alex, there is no playful smirk, no teasing, just an honest look on his face with a hint of hopefulness, Michael finds his bravery again and nods.

Alex lets out a breath. "That night in the shed?"

Michael makes a face at the memory. "Instant regret. The second I turned my face, I knew I was an idiot.”

Alex shakes his head. "I freaked you out," he reasons away easily.

"How much I liked you freaked me out," Michael corrects him, feeling warm from the inside out as Alex gives him a sweet smile in return. "You leaned in, and I realized ‘oh shit I like a dude,’" he grins as Alex lets out a chuckle. "Had my gay panic, which turned into my bisexual awakening in the days that followed, but by the time I realized it, you were gone."

Alex’s expression is full of understanding, soft, and kind. "Missed opportunity."

Michael nods, swallowing before he continues with his confession. "You're the one that got away,” he says with an embarrassed chuckle. “I think about it all the time, that if I could do it over again, I wouldn't turn away."

There is a glint in Alex's dark eyes that seems to make them glow; the soft smile on his face is a little amused and pleased. He looks at him for a moment, and Michael holds his breath as he seems to come to a decision. Alex places his hands on Michael's knees, leaning into his space, only stopping when he's a few inches away from Michael.

"Do-over?" he whispers, and he's close enough that Michael can feel his breath touch his face.

Michael thinks for a moment, he must be dreaming, has to be, but he doesn’t question it, because if it is a dream. It’s a dream come true. He closes the space between them, taking Alex’s bottom lip between his. The kiss isn’t tentative like a usual first kiss. There is no uncertainty from either one of them as Alex reaches up, his hands finding their way to Michael’s hair, and Michael slides out of his seat to step in between Alex’s legs. He grips Alex’s thighs and pulls him closer, relishing the sound Alex makes at the back of his throat. He wants Alex to keep making those kinds of sounds; he wants to be the reason for them. They say reality is never as good as your imagination, but the people who say that have obviously never kissed Alex Manes.

His lips are softer than his wildest dreams, and his taste is instantly addictive, he’ll never need acetone again if he gets to keep kissing Alex.

Alex licks into his mouth, and it’s Michael’s turn to let out a noise. He can feel Alex smile into the kiss, so he gives Alex’s thighs a hard squeeze for his smugness, earning a stinging bite that Alex soothes away with a swipe of his hot tongue.

Alex breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away from him; if anything, he holds him closer, his fingers gripping in Michael’s curls. “Fuck, Guerin,” Alex gets out, his voice rough. “You kiss all the boys like that?”

Michael grins, giddy from having the boy of his dreams in his arms, looking at him with those brown eyes of his that always, always, laid Michael low. “Just you, darlin’.”

Alex gives him a growing smile. “Sweet talker,” he teases, his hands leave Michael’s hair, and he cradles Michael’s face between them. “When did you get so smooth?”

Michael laughs, happier than he’s been in a long time. He's more than ready to get back to it, nothing else matters than Alex's mouth, when a voice booms over the speakers.

‘Attention passengers of American Airlines flight 157 Denver to Dallas, has been canceled. Passengers, please report to your gate for further information.’

"That's us, isn't it?" Michael makes a face, already dreading yet another lecture from Isobel.

Alex copies him. "Yep," he says as he runs a hand through his hair, making Michael realize that he hasn't touched it yet. He wants to. He wants to see if it's as soft and silky as it looks. "Rosa is going to bitch me out. She wanted me home earlier in the week."

Michael smiles. "I have the same conversation to look forward to with Isobel."

Alex gives him a half-smile and stands, grabbing his bag and then Michael's hand. "Let's go see what the plan is before we deal with those two."

Michael nods, picking up his carry-on. They leave a tip for the bartender and head for the information desk, waiting their turn as the people before them are dealt with. The young man that greets them, does it with an apologetic smile that tells them he has been saying sorry to a lot of angry people. Given that its December 22nd, so close to Christmas, Michael can’t imagine people being happy with their flights canceled.

He tries to listen as the man tells them that the weather report is saying that the snow should stop by midnight and that their flight is rescheduled for 8:45 am the next day. He tunes out as more apologies are uttered in their direction. His focus is on the fact that Alex hasn’t let go of his hand, his thumb running back and forth over the webbing between his thumb and his index, and he tries to suppress a shiver caused by the calluses of Alex’s thumb over the thin skin. Alex turns in his direction, giving him a knowing smile. He knows Michael isn’t paying attention. But how can he pay attention when he’s actually standing next to Alex? Holding hands with him after finally kissing him like he’s dreamed about for the last ten years.

Alex is lucky he’s not plastered to his back, his arms around him, clinging to him as he presses his face to his neck the way he really wants to.

“We have a shuttle bus that will take you to the hotel,” the attendant tells them, and Michael snaps out of his frankly embarrassing fantasy of living the rest of his days like Alex’s backpack. “Again, we’re so sorry for the inconvenience, sirs.”

“Please stop apologizing, you can’t control the weather,” Alex tells the man with a sincere smile, and the attendant turns a shade of pink. Michael can almost see the heart eyes he gives Alex.

He frowns at the man even though he gets it. It’s pretty much his reaction to Alex, but that doesn’t mean he likes other people reacting the same, especially when he’s right next to him. He shifts closer to him, giving the attendant a look that silently says, ‘back the fuck off.’

The flight attendant clears his throat nervously, darting his eyes away from Alex, looking at Michael with apologetic acknowledgment.

“The van will be outside waiting for you,” he tells them quickly. “Have a good night, sirs.”

Alex tugs at his hand as he begins to walk away. “Let’s go, Guerin.”

Michael follows along quickly, more than okay with Alex pulling him along by the hand. They get into the airport van that is waiting for them, and Michael realizes that the information he missed out while busy fantasizing about Alex, is that the airport is setting them up with rooms for the night to make up for the cancellation. They get to the hotel ten minutes later, and it only takes them that long because of the snow. The hotel isn’t anything special, but they’re quick to check them in, obviously ready for the influx of stranded passengers, and they get handed their room keys, both on the fifth floor.

He walks with Alex down a narrow hallway, stopping in front of room 515. Alex opens his door before turning back to him, shifting from foot to foot.

“I need a hot shower before I get yelled at by Rosa,” he says with a wry smile, and Michael realizes with a warm fluttering feeling in his chest that Alex is as nervous as him.

It makes him smile softly, and he’s pleased by the way Alex's shoulders seem to loosen. “Same,” he tells him. “Iz will probably have a lot to say.”

Alex chuckles softly before placing his hand on Michael’s chest, curling it around his coat and reeling him in. Michael steps into his space, meeting Alex halfway, kissing him back as he presses his lips against his in a soft, gentle touch. They take their time, neither deepening the kiss, just enjoying the press of their lips against each other. “Do you want to come back when you’re done getting yelled at?” Alex asks quietly against his mouth.

He pulls back to look at Alex, flushed skin, his dark eyes that glisten with hope and desire.

The answer to the question is obvious.

“Yes.”

After a shower and a lengthy conversation with Isobel that jumps back and forth between lecturing him for not leaving Massachusetts sooner and demanding details about Alex, Michael is finally back at Alex’s door. He runs his hand over his damp curls and takes a deep breath before he knocks, waiting as he hears Alex move around in his room.

The door opens to reveal a freshly showered Alex in nothing but a pair of grey sweats that ride low on his hips. Michael tries hard not to swallow his tongue.

He shoots him a smile with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Rosa, he mouths, stepping away to let Michael in.

Michael walks into the room, grateful that Alex is distracted, it gives him a moment to take Alex in. His back to him, he hears Alex give a vague uh-huh to his friend, followed by a yep. He runs his eyes over Alex, lingering on the smooth skin over lean muscle, the dip of his waist, and the pair of dimples on his lower back that leaves Michael’s mouth dry. He itches to step up to Alex and press himself against the length of his back.

He doesn’t hold back on the impulse and does just that, stepping up behind Alex, relishing the gasp he lets out as his hands clench his hips, he rubs his nose against the side of Alex’s neck, making a sound at the back of his throat as he takes in the smell of soap and underneath that, a scent so uniquely Alex, a little sweet, hot and addictive.

“Time to hang up, darlin’,” he whispers against his ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, grinning around it as Alex lets out a halting goodbye to Rosa, ignoring her protests. He spins around, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck.

“Menace,” he whispers, cutting Michael’s laugh short as he slams his mouth against his.

Michael groans, his hands tightening his hold on Alex, and he pulls him even closer, letting out another whining sound when Alex licks into his mouth. He runs his hands from Alex’s sides to his back, touching every piece of warm skin he can.

“Guerin,” Alex gasps for breath, his hands tugging at his shirt, and Michael lets go of Alex long enough to pull it over his head, dropping it on the floor. He stands still as Alex exhales a sharp breath, running his eyes over him in a way that feels like a touch. He wants more though, and when Alex’s hands hover hesitantly over his chest, he circles his wrists and gently presses them over his racing heart.

“You want this?” Alex asks, his hands caress his chest, a fingertip brushing against his hardened nipples, his body tightening at the sensation, and he swallows hard at the look Alex gives him in response.

“I have never wanted anything more,” he pauses, licking his lips nervously when Alex meets his eyes. “Then how much I have always wanted you,” he confesses, and it feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest when Alex gives him a gentle look that reflects the hope Michael knows is on his face.

Alex goes around him, and Michael turns around to watch Alex climb into the queen size bed. Laying back on a mess of pillows, he lifts his hand out to Michael.

“Come here,” he whispers, looking like all of Michael’s dreams come to life, and Michael doesn’t need to be told twice.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers sometime later, his head on Alex’s chest, their legs intertwined under a sheet as they try to catch their breath. Their bodies are sweaty and sticky, but Michael doesn’t care, not when his body aches in the delightful way that only happens after a spectacular fuck.

Alex’s chest rumbles under his cheek as he laughs, his hand has been making a mess of his curls as he runs his fingers through them. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Michael grins into his skin, pressing a kiss into it, followed by a lick before he looks up at him. “Really?”

“Mmhmm,” Alex hums, wrapping his index finger around a curl, his nails scratch at Michael’s scalp softly, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from purring. “I used to daydream about your hair.”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s a lot more innocent than my daydreams; I’ll be real.”

Alex grins at him, tugging on a curl. “Well, I think you’ve proven by your earlier moves that you’re a dirty boy,” Alex jokes, and Michael throws him a smirk, proud as he remembers the way Alex gasped and begged when Michael rode him.

“I used to dream about it in Bio class,” Alex confesses. “You used to sit by the windows, and the light would hit your curls, making them glow. All I wanted was to sink my hands into them and play with them for hours.”

“That’s so sweet,” Michael teases to keep from melting on the spot, he’s already half in love with Alex, to know that Alex also thought of him back then, that he might feel some of what he’s feeling now, pretty much seals the deal on his feelings.

Alex gives a curl another tug, this one sharper, and Michael can't help the gasp that comes out. Alex stills his hand while Michael holds his breath.

"If we go another round, you're not going to sit comfortably on the plane in the morning," Alex warns him, heat flickering in Michael's belly from the promise in Alex's tone, and Michael finds himself straddling Alex, feeling him harden under him.

"I couldn't care less," Michael says, grinding against Alex, a grin on his face when Alex lets out a curse and flips them over, his hand reaching for the small bottle of lube they used before.

"You asked for it,” Alex tells him. Michael would gloat about it, but as Alex touches him with wet fingers, pressing in, he finds himself without enough brain cells to be clever.

Michael isn’t sure if it’s that the airline is trying to keep them happy because of the canceled flight, or it’s just Alex’s smile that dazzles the flight attendant, leaving her powerless to his charm. But when they arrive at the airport for their morning flight, Alex asks if Michael can be bumped up to first class with him, and the flight attendant immediately upgrades him.

“That face of yours pretty much gets you whatever you want, doesn’t it?” he questions as they sit with their seat belts on, as the flight crew finishes going through their emergency procedures.

“I don’t know,” Alex says, turning his head to look at him. There is a sleepy look on his face, and Michael feels a sense of pride to think he wore him out. Their second round had turned into a third, and though Alex was right and he finds himself shifting in his seat to get comfortable, shooting Alex a look when he smirks, he can’t say he regrets it. “Can I get anything I want from you?” he asks with a teasing look on his face.

“Probably,” he answers honestly.

Alex makes a sound, and Michael looks up at him, there is a look of surprise that turns soft. Alex takes his hand in his, running his thumb over the thin skin between his thumb and index finger. It makes Michael tremble.

“Sorry,” Alex murmurs, even as he doesn’t stop touching Michael. “Guitar calluses.”

“I don’t mind,” he answers, turning his hand palm side up so Alex can have more to touch.

“Do you still play?” Alex asks, studying his hand.

“Not as much as I would like,” Michael admits. Between work and classes, it doesn’t leave him much time. “When I do play, I think of you.”

Alex's hand stills over his, and he looks at Michael with big brown eyes that hold so much emotion. “You really mean that don’t you,” he whispers, leaning in closer, intertwining their fingers. “You still think about me.”

Michael breathes in, his heart pounding in his ears. A part of him worries that he’s coming on too strong. He’s had ten years to come to terms with the fact that he’s probably been half in love with Alex since he was a teenager. While Alex is just now realizing the torch Michael has been carrying. The other part of him though, the part that still can’t believe that he actually has Alex with him here and now. Can’t believe the night they just spent together isn’t a dream of his. That part is telling him that this is his second chance, and he needs to lay it all on the table if he’s going to have a shot at keeping Alex in his life this time around. “I always think about you, Alex.”

Shaking his head like he can’t believe it, Alex closes his eyes for a moment, but there is a smile on his face, and it gives Michal hope.

Opening his eyes, Alex looks at him in wonder, making Michael feel warm all over. “What do you think about?”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him with a smirk, laughing when Alex scoffs at him, though he sees a hint of a blush.

“Besides that, Guerin,” Alex rolls his eyes at him even as his mouth quirks upward.

He laughs softly, trailing off as Alex looks at him, waiting. “I think about your kindness,” he says quietly. “You gave me somewhere warm because I had nowhere to go. You gave me a guitar because you knew I liked to play, and you wanted to do something nice. You were kind to me for no reason.”

“I liked you,” Alex smiles sweetly, looking so much like the boy of years ago. “That was the reason.”

Michael squeezes his hand. "That was the first time someone gave me something that meant anything. I hated leaving it behind in the shed."

“You should have taken it,” Alex tells him with a soft smile. “I wanted you to have it; instead, it’s probably still in the shed collecting dust with all my other stuff. I know my dad had my brother Greg get rid of all my things inside the house, and instead, he put them in the shed. At least that’s what Greg told me the last time we spoke, but that was years ago, so maybe it’s all gone now.”

“You don’t talk to them, do you?” he questions, though given that Alex has never bothered to come back to Roswell, he probably knows the answer.

“My father is an abusive asshole who hates me for being gay,” Alex says matter of fact, there is no hurt in his voice like he came to terms with it a long time ago. “My older brothers follow his lead. Greg, who is two years older than me, is the only one who doesn’t care. He’s not supportive exactly, but he also doesn’t give a shit about me liking guys or the family drama. He went into the military like my other brothers, but it was to get away from everyone. We have that in common.”

Michael wants to put his arm around Alex; he wants to pull him closer and hold him until he eases the pain Alex carries from years of abuse and neglect. He hesitates for a moment, they’re on the plane, there are people around them, and maybe Alex doesn’t want his attention right now. After a moment, he decides what the hell. He pops off his seat belt, noticing that the light for it is off and moves to lift the armrest between them.

“What are you doing, Guerin?” Alex questions, frowning at him.

“I’m going to hug you,” he answers, ignoring the look Alex gives him.

“I’m fine,” Alex protests, while Michael shifts in his seat. “I’ve moved past the need for my father’s approval.”

“I know you’re fine, you’re great,” Michael assures him as he throws his arm around Alex’s shoulders and pulls him close. “You’re perfect, I just like touching you and don’t know if I’ll get to do this when we get to Roswell, so I’m taking advantage now.”

Alex scoffs halfheartedly, but indulges him anyway, and wraps his arms around Michael’s waist as he holds him. “You’re a lot more affectionate than I would have thought, but I like it,” he says, his words pressed against Michael’s jaw as he tilts his head. “And for the record, you can touch me all you want when we get to Roswell.”

Michael stills at the comment, and he tells his heart to calm the fuck down as it beats loudly. “Do you mean that?”

Alex, who has gotten as comfortable as you can on an airplane, first-class seats or not, lets out a hum as he uses Michael’s shoulder as a pillow. “Well,” he starts sleepily. “I guess this could just be a one night stand for you,” he pauses, and the hand at Michael’s waist gives him a soft squeeze. “But I’m going to take a leap of faith and say that’s not the case.”

“Leap away,” Michael says quickly, his pulse still racing.

Alex makes another noise like Michael has pleased and amused him with his quick response. He doesn’t say anything else and seems to be drifting off, but Michael can’t let the conversation go just yet.

“So just so I’m clear, this wasn’t a one night stand for you either, and it would be okay with you if I…” he trails off, not knowing how to continue.

He what? Touch Alex? Kiss Alex? Proclaim his undying love?

Alex huffs, and he lifts his head to look at him, he seems tired, but he leans in anyway and kisses him softly. He takes his time with it, only pulling back when they’re both breathless.

Michael exhales. “Yeah, that.”

Alex grins, his brown eyes dancing. “You sure you’re a genius, Guerin? Because you seem really slow on the uptake.”

Michael rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile that has taken over his face. “Go to sleep smartass. I obviously wore you out, and it’s made you crabby. I’ll wake you up when we land in Dallas.”

Alex looks like he wants to give another retort, but, in the end, seems to decide that sleep has more appeal and lays his head back on Michael’s shoulder, doing as Michael tells him.

They land in Roswell after a short layover in Dallas; hand in hand, they make their way to luggage claim. Alex has been quiet since the wheels of the plane touched the ground.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently.

“I think so,” Alex wrinkles his nose at him, and it’s so damn cute Michael wants to lean in and kiss it. “It’s just weird being back; that’s all.”

Michael nods, he’s already asked him if he has plans to see his family, which made Alex laugh dryly before giving him an emphatic no.

“Is anyone picking you up?” Alex asks once they both have their bags and start to make their way towards the exit.

“Isobel, what about you?”

Alex’s mouth curves. “Rosa.”

Michael nods again, feeling a trickle of worry grow the closer they make it to the outside world. The last 24 hours have felt like a magical little bubble where only he and Alex exist. Michael can’t help but worry that the magic is going to disappear the moment it’s no longer just the two of them. He thinks some of his thoughts must play out on his face because Alex, who has been watching him, stops in his tracks and turns to him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, brushing away one of Michael’s curls away from his face, his brown eyes warm as he looks at him.

“Hi,” Michael whispers back, taking a breath as Alex places his hands on his waist and tugs him forward.

Alex smiles, leaning in to rest his forehead against his.

“Tell that busy brain of yours to calm down,” Alex whispers, and Michael tries not to make a big deal out of the fact that Alex seems to be able to read him like a book. He taps his index finger against Michael’s temple. “Okay? I can hear it from here.”

Michael breathes out slowly, earning himself another smile from Alex as he nods, his forehead still pressed against his. Alex doesn't let him go, seemingly comfortable with staying there in his arms as much as Michael, and it settles his nerves some more.

As far as he's concerned, they can stay like this forever.

Isobel, though, seems to have a different plan.

"Jesus Christ, did you two really make us wait until the last minute to get here, just to stare at each other in an airport?"

Michael turns his head to find his sister and Rosa Ortecho standing side by side, watching them with various degrees of judgment and amusement on their faces.

Alex lets him go, much to Michael's displeasure, and holds out his arms for Rosa, who breaks out into a grin as she jumps into his arms.

"Hey punk," she says into Alex's shoulder as she and Alex hold each other tightly.

"Hi love," Alex greets back with a breathtaking smile on his face.

Isobel slaps his arm, drawing back his attention to her. "I haven't seen you in months. Are you going to hug me, or are you too busy staring at Alex like in high school?" Isobel asks bluntly, drawing the attention of the two friends who are still hugging.

Rosa smirks in his direction, while Alex gives him a soft look, the tiniest bit amused.

Michael can feel himself blush. It's one thing to tell Alex in private that he had feelings for him back in high school. It's another to have Isobel air his dirty laundry like this.

He glares at her but softens when he sees the happy look on her face.

"Brat," he murmurs with affection pulling her into a tight hug.

"Loser," she mocks as she returns the embrace. "Come on, we have to get back to the house. I have pies to finish."

Michael hesitates when she tugs at his sleeve. She looks back at him and then over at Alex, rolling her eyes at both of them.

"Oh for God sakes Michael, you're going to see him later. Hi, by the way, Manes," she says, finally seeming to remember her manners.

Alex shakes his head, laughing. "Hey, Evans, you haven't changed a bit, I see."

Isobel raises an eyebrow at the comment, taking it for the challenge it is. "While you seem to have finally gotten over your unfortunate emo phase, good for you."

"Ooh, fashion burn," Alex smirks, a glint in his eye.

Isobel stares at him harder, glares at him, really, but Michael can see the hint of a smile on her face. Isobel has always appreciated a worthy opponent.

She turns back to him. "If you could, please stop acting like you're saying goodbye to your beloved before sending him off to war. Max is in charge of the kitchen, so we have to go before he burns it down."

"Give me a second to say goodbye."

Isobel rolls her eyes again, but lets go of his arm.

Michael turns back to Alex, who looks like he's trying very hard to keep from laughing. He grins back, having decided to irritate Isobel some more.

"I'll wait for you, my love," he says with a dramatic sigh.

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, taking a deep breath. "Though the future is full of peril, know that I'll think of you every moment we're apart."

Rosa chuckles just as Isobel lets out a disgruntled huff, glaring at both of them. "Great, he’s just as annoying as you, Michael.”

Alex smirks, obviously pleased.

“Perfect match,” Michael says quietly, not caring that Rosa shakes her head in laughter or that Isobel makes a gagging noise like the brat she is. Alex is giving him a soft smile, and that’s all that matters in the end. “See you later?”

Alex nods, his hand grips the front of Michael’s shirt, tugging him forward for a soft kiss. “Go have dinner with your friends. We can do something for Christmas day, just the two of us, okay?”

Michael nods, pressing his mouth against Alex’s once more. “Okay.”

Michael wakes up Christmas day to voices outside his bedroom at Max’s, sighing when he sees that it’s only eight a.m. and his siblings are already up, even though they were awake past midnight.

Grabbing his phone, he checks his messages and smiles when he sees that Alex left him a text around one a.m. saying Merry Christmas. Pocketing his phone, he makes his way towards the living room where Isobel is sitting with a cup of coffee in hand while making Max hold up a series of shirts against his body.

“What’s going on?” he asks, leaning down to kiss the top of Isobel’s head, stealing her cup in the process.

She gives him a dirty look but lets him get away with it, nodding towards a frantic Max.

“Liz dropped the baby bomb on her dad last night and text Max this morning that Arturo wants him over at the diner for breakfast and a discussion. So now he’s trying to find a shirt that says, ‘I’m sorry I knocked up your daughter out of wedlock; please don’t shoot me,” she finished explaining with a frankly evil smile on her face at their brother’s predicament.

“Max,” he says sharply, drawing his attention when it looks like he’s going to start freaking out even more than he already is. “Arturo is not going to shoot you.”

Max lets out a relieved breath while Isobel pouts at him for ruining her fun, which he answers with a wink.

“The man is a cook,” he continues, not bothering to fight the grin on his face. “He’ll poison you before he shoots you,” he finishes, smirking as Isobel lets out a loud laugh, and Max gives him an annoyed look.

“Comforting and helpful as always, Michael, thank you,” Max bitches at him, while Isobel continues to laugh.

Michael tips his head in Max’s direction, chuckling when Max walks away, mumbling under his breath about horrible siblings.

His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out, to see a message, smiling when he sees it’s from Alex.

“Good morning. Liz told Arturo about the baby, and there’s a very awkward breakfast about to happen that I don’t want to be here for. Want to meet up? I’ll bring coffee and donuts.”

He lets out an amused sound, shooting back a quick yes. Alex answers back just as quickly with an address and a heart emoji.

“Alex?” Isobel asks, startling him. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

He looks up to find her studying him. “How did you know?” he questions, getting an eye-roll in return.

“Because you’re smiling like an idiot,” she answers dryly, a smirk on her face when he glares at her. “It’s the same face you used to make when you would stare at him in high school.”

“Stop,” Michael whines, knowing where this is already going because he’s heard Isobel give Max the same lecture about Liz.

Isobel raises her hands in peace. “I’m happy that you’re happy,” she starts, and he can hear the but in her voice. “I’m happy that you’re reconnecting with him and getting the chance you missed in high school.”

“But?” he says for her, wanting to get to the point.

“But,” Isobel emphasizes, narrowing her eyes at him. “You and Max are more alike than either of you would like, and you have been carrying a torch for this guy forever, just like Max with Liz. There’s the big alien elephant in the room, and you have to be careful if you want to pursue something serious with Alex.”

Michael remains quiet for a moment knowing that she has a point. He learned how to control his powers a long time ago, and he’s never been serious about anyone to feel the need to share his secret with them. If there’s anyone on this planet that he would think about sharing it with, it would be Alex Manes, and that’s something he has to take into consideration.

“At least I can’t knock him up as Max did with Liz,” he answers jokingly, feeling a chill go down his spine when Isobel gives him a downright evil-looking smile.

“So you think.”

Michael arrives at the address Alex gave him, realizing as he pulls up that it’s Alex’s childhood home, given what he knows about Alex’s family, he’s more than a little confused. But Alex is there, leaning against a car with a coffee in his hand, so he parks and gets out, crossing the street to join him.

“I can’t believe you still have your truck,” Alex comments as he closes the distance between them, passing him a coffee cup. “Donut?”

Michael shakes his head. “I’ll take something else that sweet though,” he says, pressing his tongue to the corner of his mouth, as Alex rolls his eyes.

“Smooth,” Alex says sarcastically, even as he leans in to kiss him.

“It worked,” Michael says, a smug grin on his face, kissing him once more before pulling back. “What are we doing here? I would think this is the last place you would visit,” he points at the house, as he downs half his coffee in one go.

“No one is here,” Alex tells him. “From what I understand, none of my brothers came home for the holidays, and when my dad heard I would be in town, he decided to stay on the base.”

“Okay,” Michael says slowly, drinking down the last bit of his coffee. “Still doesn’t explain why we’re here.”

Alex smiles, taking his now empty cup and putting it into a paper bag, throwing it back in his car. He takes Michael’s hand and starts to walk towards the house, or well, the back of it. Michael starts to get an idea where this is going as he sees the old shed come into view.

“We’re going to find your guitar,” Alex says as he pulls out a set of keys, opening an old lock that doesn’t seem like it has opened in years.

“Alex,” Michael says softly, touched by the gesture. Yet another thing he’s been sorry about all this time. Leaving that guitar behind.

“I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it,” Alex says, turning to face him. “Because I wanted to give you something that mattered to you. I want you to have it back.”

Michael looks at him and knows he’s falling in love. He realizes now that all this time, his regret and the feeling of missed opportunity with Alex has really been him being in love with him this whole time, and now, less than three days of having Alex back in his life, he’s falling in love all over again.

Isobel is right; he and Max are more alike than he thought.

Alex pushes the wooden door open, and they find that the shed is much more crowded than before.

Alex has a grim smile on his face as he looks around at all his stuff, and Michael hurts for him. It must be horrible to know that the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally is perfectly fine with getting rid or hiding everything you are away because they can’t accept you as you are.

He steps up behind Alex and wraps his arms around him, pressing his face into his neck. He can feel Alex’s tense body start to loosen the longer he holds him. Finally, after another minute or two, Alex lets out a breath, turning around in his arms to face him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Michael’s.

Michael doesn’t say anything right away, he runs his hands up and down Alex’s back, only stopping when Alex pulls back, his expression more at peace.

“You know since we’re here,” he starts, grinning when Alex raises an eyebrow at his tone. His heart racing as he continues. “And this is the place of my greatest regret. Maybe we can recreate the moment so I can correct it.

Alex stares at him, the corners of his mouth lifting, and he leans in again, stopping halfway, his eyes sparkling with laughter and something else as he waits Michael out.

Michael exhales right before he covers Alex’s mouth with his. He’s already kissed Alex so many times, felt his body against his as they made love.

But being back in this place where it all started. It feels like what he thinks that first kiss would have felt like if he hadn’t turned his face. He pours all the feelings he had back then, all the feelings he’s had for the last ten years, and all the feelings he has now into the kiss, and hopes Alex understands how serious he is about them and just how much he wants this.

He’s so lost in the feel and taste of Alex, in this feeling that is bursting inside him, he doesn’t notice anything else and finds himself jumping when the door to the shed slams open.

Alex jerks back and Michael feels him freeze as he looks over his shoulder, his face paling at who he finds there.

Michael knows who it is without even turning but finds himself flinching when Alex speaks with fear in his voice.

“Dad…” Alex says quietly, stepping around Michael.

Michael turns around, and seeing the Master Sergeant’s face, he gets why Alex is standing protectively in front of him. The anger and disgust on the man’s face are like nothing he’s ever seen, even in all the years he spent in the foster care system, and he can admit that it sends a trickle of fear down his spine.

“How dare you,” Jesse Manes seethes, eyes full of fury locked on Alex.

Michael sees the hate there; it makes his stomach turn to think Alex grew up with this. “How dare you disrespect me with your perverted behavior-“

Alex sighs loudly, standing taller. “Here we go with your usual bullshit. This isn’t about you. We came for my guitar and then we’ll be out of your hair. Away with our perverted behavior,” Alex says mockingly, and Michael realizes too late it’s the wrong tone to take.

Faster than he thinks possible, Jesse crosses the room, his hand tight around Alex’s neck, slamming him into a beam in the middle of the shed. It’s obvious that Alex is caught off guard as much as him, his eyes wide as he tries futilely to push his father off him.

“You think you can talk to me like that!” Jesse shouts, his face red with rage. “You run away from home, from your obligations to this family, to live your disgusting lifestyle and then think you can come back and mouth off to me. I’ll teach you who is still in charge here.”

Jesse’s threat snaps him out of his shock, and he steps forward, trying to pull Jesse off Alex. Only for the man to shove him hard before going back to choke Alex, who is still trying to pull his father’s hand off his throat.

He hasn’t lost control in years, but Michael doesn’t think about it. All he sees is this monster who is hurting the person he loves, and in the next instant, Jesse is flying, slamming hard against a wall of the shed before slumping forward, knocked out from the impact.

Alex gasps for breath, hands on his knees as he coughs, his eyes wide as he stares at his motionless father. Michael is also breathing hard, a little lightheaded from the burst of energy he just used.

Still staring at his dad, Alex whispers. “Did you do that?”

Michael can feel his heart racing; it’s been so long since he’s felt this kind of fear.

“Michael?” Alex asks softly now, looking at him, and Michael feels like he could start crying because Alex doesn’t seem afraid of him. Shocked by the events of the last 10 minutes and a little apprehensive, but not scared.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Alex might not be scared, but Michael is terrified.

“How?” Alex asks with wonderment.

Michael runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Look, I know you have a lot of questions, and I swear I’ll answer them. But right now, we need to deal with your dad.”

Alex looks like he wants to argue but finally nods. “What do we do?”

Michael sighs, he knows who he has to call, and he hates that he has to involve her. Turning to Alex, he pulls out his phone. “I need you to trust me, Alex.”

“I do,” Alex says instantly, not realizing the relief his words give Michael.

Michael closes the space between them, slowly reaching for him, waiting for Alex to step back if he needs to, letting out the breath he’s been holding when he touches Alex, and he doesn’t flinch away. “Thank you.”

To say that Isobel is furious when she arrives is an understatement, she has a glint in her eye that tells him she’s seriously considering making his brain explode as the three of them stand in Jesse Manes’ bedroom, the man still unconscious on the bed after he and Alex got him into the house.

“I am going to kill you,” Isobel hisses, ignoring the worried look Alex sends her way.

“I know,” he answers, knowing there is a real possibility his sister might make good on her threat. “But right now, I need you to go into this asshole’s mind and make him forget everything that happened in the shed.”

“And what exactly did happened in the shed?” she questions, still furious.

“Michael and I were kissing,” Alex starts, not flinching when Isobel turns her glare onto him. “My dad came in; he attacked me and probably would have killed me since he rather have a dead son than a gay one. Michael saved me, using his powers.”

Isobel turns back to Michael, eyes flashing. “You told him.”

Michael opens his mouth, but Alex beats him to the punch again.

“Not yet,” he says, his tone clear that a conversation will be had. “But my dad did go flying across the room. So I’m guessing Michael can move things with his mind?” Alex finishes looking at him to confirm, a pleased smile on his face when Michael nods.

“You’re taking this very calmly,” Isobel says suspiciously, eyes narrowed as she studies Alex.

Alex lets out a laugh that sounds a little on the hysterical side. “I’m freaking the fuck out. Michael can move things with his mind. You apparently can make people forget things? And my father tried to choke me out, but…”

“But?” Isobel asks a little calmer, her expression softening as Alex mentions his father’s actions again.

“Michael would never hurt me,” Alex answers her with conviction, and if it weren’t for the very serious mess they have to clean up, he would pull Alex in his arms and kiss him.

“Great,” Isobel murmurs. “Like it wasn’t enough to deal with one brother’s epic romance, I now have to deal with two. Fine. Alex, does your father drink?”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, he’s a functioning alcoholic.”

“Lovely,” she says, staring down at the man with disgust. “You find a bottle of something strong. I’m going to make him believe that he came home and went on a bender. He won’t remember anything about the shed.”

Alex hesitates for a moment before leaving the room. Michael watches him go before turning to his sister.

“I’m not happy with this,” she starts.

Michael nods. “I know.”

“And Max is going to lose his shit,” she continues and he nods again.

She studies him in that way that always makes him think she’s reading his mind.

“But he has no leg to stand on,” she says after a moment. “He told Liz our secret too, and I like her, but I like Alex a little more.”

Michael can’t help but smile at that.

She looks at him, and there is a soft understanding look on her face. “I would have done the same if I loved someone as much as you love him.”

Michael swallows audibly, grateful for his sister; she smiles before turning back to Jesse with a calculating look.

“Now, to deal with this piece of shit and make sure he never puts a hand on Alex again.”

Max loses his shit and then some. Michael sits on his brother’s couch with Isobel, who is still nursing a headache from all the power she used, acetone bottle in her hand, and Liz, who has a hand on his shoulder, frowning at her boyfriend as he paces.

“How could you let this happen, Michael?” Max asks for the third time since he and Isobel got back.

Alex, much to Michael’s displeasure, had stayed behind to make sure there was no trace left of them. Michael only agreed to go since he needed to get a weak Isobel back home.

He opens his mouth to argue with Max, but it’s Liz who has slowly looked more and more irritated who jumps in.

“What exactly did you want Michael to do, Max?” she questions, her brown eyes narrowed, and Michael watches as Max looks back at her nervously. “Just stand back and let Alex’s father attack him?”

“Liz,” Max tries helplessly in the face of his girl’s anger.

“I, for one, am grateful Michael stepped in,” Liz continues, ignoring his pleading tone. “He saved Alex, who I might remind you since you seem to have forgotten, is one of my best friends.”

Michael catches Isobel’s eye, spotting a tiny smirk, as Max tries to appease an angry pregnant girlfriend.

“Liz, of course I’m happy Alex is okay,” Max tries, sighing loudly when he’s met with blank expressions from all three of them. “But now, Alex knows our secret, and we have to decide as a group what we are going to do about it.”

“You mean like when you told Liz our secret,” Isobel interrupts, shooting Liz an apologetic look that Liz waves away, she knows this argument already. “We didn’t decide that as a group, you just told her.”

“That’s different!” Max argues. “I’ve loved Liz since high school.”

Michael rolls his eyes at his brother’s cluelessness, noticing he’s not the only one, as Isobel and Liz do the same. It makes Michael blush to realize that his future sister-in-law might have been aware of his feelings all along.

“Him too,” Liz says, confirming his suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” Max asks, confused, looking over at him, making Michael sigh yet again.

“She means that you’re not the only one that’s been pining away for ten years,” Michael tells him, shooting the women in the room a glance when they look at him proud and a little amused at his confession, but he continues. “I’ve been in love with Alex since high school. So before you even suggest it, no, we’re not wiping his memory.”

Max stares at him; after a moment, his already wide eyes get bigger as he looks past him.

Michael turns in his seat to see what has drawn his attention, understanding the look on Max’s face when he takes in Alex standing by the doorway.

“Hi,” he says hesitantly as all four of them look at him, he seems to shake off his nervousness after a moment and gives them an unimpressed look. “You should really close your front door if you’re going to talk about your magic powers.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment before Isobel starts laughing. “I like you Manes, you know how to make an entrance, and I can appreciate that,” she says toasting him with her bottle of acetone before taking a drink that has Alex raising an eyebrow.

Liz gets up from the couch and crosses the room to her friend, pulling him into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he hears her asking Alex.

Alex nods, his focus on Michael as Liz checks him over, her hands touching his neck where there are some faint marks.

“I’m fine,” he tells the room. “I’ll be even better after Michael and I have that conversation he promised,” he finishes looking at him expectantly.

Michael stands up.

“Michael, I don’t think-” Max tries, quieting down when Liz and Isobel send him a quelling look.

“It’s not up to you, Max,” Michael tells his brother softly but firmly. Max looks at him, at Alex, and then finally at the two women in the room before letting out a sigh, nodding in acceptance.

“Okay, Michael.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, he turns to Alex, walking over to him as he watches him steadily. Liz squeezes Alex’s arm in solidarity before stepping away from them.

Standing in front of him, he holds out his hand, letting out a breath when Alex doesn’t hesitate to hold it. “Let’s go for a ride.”

They don’t speak as they drive to the desert, and Michael admires Alex’s restraint. If it were him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back. It’s only when Michael has parked his truck outside the entrance of the caves that Alex finally speaks.

“I heard you tell Max that you’re not erasing my memory,” he says easily, like talking about mind control is as normal as commenting on the weather. “So, I don’t think you brought me out to the desert to get rid of me either, but let me just say this is shady as fuck.”

Michael can’t help the soft laugh that passes his lips as he takes in the quirk of Alex’s mouth as he jokes, even though he catches the hesitation in Alex’s voice.

“You heard us, huh,” he says, getting a nod from Alex.

“Among other things,” Alex says meaningfully, and Michael swallows, remembering what he said about being in love with Alex.

“I meant that,” he says quietly, watching as Alex takes in a sharp breath.

“Michael,” he breathes, but Michael holds up a hand to stop him.

“Before we get to that, I promised an explanation,” he says, opening the door. Alex follows suit and gets out of the truck too.

“And I think the easiest way to do that is to show you,” he says, pointing at the caves. “If you trust me.”

Alex answers his question by slipping his hand in his, and Michael thinks there isn’t going to be a moment where he doesn’t keep falling in love with him.

Hand in hand, Michael guides him inside the cave; he knows the moment Alex spots the pods by the gasp he lets out. His hand slips from Michael’s as he takes a step forward. Michael stays behind, letting Alex step up close to them.

“We came down in the 1947 crash,” Michael starts, pointing at the pods as Alex looks back at him, his mouth dropping. “We stayed in these pods, in stasis until 1997 when we came out. Seven years old and no idea how we got here.”

Alex continues to look at him. “The three of you were found naked on the road,” he says like he remembers the story told throughout the years.

Michael nods, confirming his words. “We were put into a group home, none of us spoke, but after a few weeks Isobel and Max learned, and soon the Evans came and adopted them. I stayed behind.”

Alex gives him a pained look but stays quiet, letting him continue.

“I bounced around from foster home to foster home until I was brought back to Roswell when I was 11, reuniting with my brother and sister.”

Alex lets out a sound. “They’re your siblings?”

“Yeah,” Michael swallows around the lump of hurt he always carries from not being able to tell people that.

“And you’re,” Alex pauses, looking back at the pods in awe. “Aliens?”

Michael looks at him, the man he loves, who isn’t running away screaming yet. “Yes.”

Alex looks back at him, his head tilted to the side as he considers him. Finally, like Michael hasn’t just told him the craziest thing anyone has ever heard, he simply nods. “Okay.”

Michael knows the look on his face is incredulous because it can’t be that easy. There is no way it’s this simple. “Okay? That’s all you have to say? You don’t have questions?” he asks, his voice getting higher and maybe even a little hysterical.

Alex bites down on his lip, and Michael gets the distinct impression that he’s trying not to laugh at him.

“I have a million questions that we’ll get to later if you answer the most important one,” Alex starts, walking back towards him until he’s right in front of Michael, so close that their bodies touch.

“And what’s that?” Michael asks, gazing into Alex’s brown eyes, lost in their depth.

“Have you really loved me all this time?” Alex asks, his voice small and low like he can’t speak the words out loud.

Michael raises his hand, cupping Alex's jaw, his thumb going over Alex’s cheekbone, and he watches as Alex leans into the touch like he’s starved for it. Michael promises himself that if Alex lets him, he’s going to touch and love him every day. “I thought it was a crush, a missed opportunity that I couldn’t let go. But being with you, having you back in my life these last few days have shown me that I have been fooling myself.”

Alex grips his hips, pulling him in closer, and with eyes opened, presses his forehead against Michael’s.

“I love you, I’ve always loved you,” Michael whispers, his heart catching when he hears the laugh-sob Alex lets out before he kisses him. The kiss is salty from their tears, but it’s okay because Michael can feel Alex’s smile against his lips.

One year later

“I can’t believe you assholes are doing this again,” Isobel complains over the phone. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You two should be here by now.”

Michael rolls his eyes, Isobel has said the same thing three times now. He feels the top of his body shake, and he looks down at the man on top of him as he laughs silently.

Alex looks up from where he’s resting his head on Michael’s chest and grins at him, with eyes full of laughter. Michael narrows his eyes at him. He doesn’t understand why he should be the only one getting yelled at when it’s just as much Alex’s fault.

“I told you to turn off your phone like I did,” Alex says softly, smirking as he hears Isobel rant some more through the speaker about how they are going to miss Christmas and how hard she’s worked to make it special since it’s the baby’s first.

“Michael, are you even listening to me, or are you staring at your boyfriend?”

“No to the first, yes to the second,” he answers, biting down on his lip when Isobel screeches over the phone.

Alex rolls his eyes, holding out his hand for Michael to pass him the phone, which Michael gladly does, pouting when Alex presses the speaker button. So much for letting him out of the conversation.

“Isobel,” Alex starts. “They’ve cleared the snow, and we already got news from the airline that our flight is in a couple of hours, we’ll be in Roswell by tonight, which I would like to remind you is the 23rd.”

“If you hadn’t stopped in Denver again, you’d be here already,” Isobel states, not ready to give up the argument.

“We wanted to celebrate our first anniversary in the place we reconnected,” Michael argues, closing his eyes when Alex runs his hand down his side to calm him down.

Isobel makes a disgruntled noise over the phone. “I’m disgusted by your love,” she says, annoyed. “Aren’t you over the honeymoon phase already? You’ve been living together for almost ten months now since Alex moved to Boston to live with you. You’re so annoying.”

Michael opens his mouth, but Alex presses his hand against it, shaking his head at him as a wicked smile takes over his face.

“How’s the Wild Pony, Isobel?” Alex asks unexpectedly, his smile growing when Isobel makes a startled sound.

“How should I know?” Isobel shoots back quickly, and Michael raises an eyebrow at that. Alex just continues to smile like the cat that ate the canary.

“A little bird told me, you’ve been hanging around those parts,” Alex continues, every word full of innuendo. “In the bar and the apartment above.”

Michael's eyes widen as he realizes what Alex is alluding to.

“Holy shit! You and DeLuca, Iz?”

Alex's grin is so wide, Michael thinks his cheeks must hurt.

Isobel is quiet only for a moment. “I will melt your brain, Manes,” she hisses into the phone, and proving that his superpower is to be unafraid of Isobel, Alex laughs easily. “I will melt it into goo.”

“Sure you will,” Alex answers mockingly, and Michael shakes his head at the recklessness. But this is the way Alex and Isobel have been since he and Alex started dating. He’s pretty sure they’re nemesis and each other’s best friends. “Listen, I have your brother naked in the hotel room we first got together in, and three hours until we have to get to the airport. So I’m going to hang up now, and have my wicked way with his delicious body,” he finishes, chuckling as Isobel lets out a disgusted sound.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Alex says, still laughing, but the sincerity is evident, and it calms Isobel down.

“Jerk,” she mutters after a moment. “Fine, text me when you're in Dallas to make sure your flight is on time.”

“Will do.”

“By the way, what you had shipped got here yesterday.”

Alex smiles. “Perfect, thanks Isobel. See you in a couple of hours,” he says, hanging up the phone.

“What did you have shipped?” Michael questions, his hands going to Alex’s hips as he throws a leg over Michael’s waist.

“Your Christmas present,” Alex answers him, leaning down for a kiss.

Michael hums into it. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Alex shakes his head, his lips a hair-breath away from Michael’s. “Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

Alex gets a look on his face that promises a good time. “Tell you what, you have until we have to get to the airport to get it out of me.”

Michael feels his body respond to the challenge and knows Alex feels it against his thigh by the smirk on his face.

Rolling them over, he gets to work, smothering Alex’s laughter that later turns to moans with his kisses.

He doesn’t get it out of him, but he has fun trying.

A day later, when they’re with their family, he holds Alex’s present in his hand. A beautiful guitar, so similar to the one Alex tried to give him years ago. When Alex leans in halfway, his eyes full of love, Michael doesn’t miss his moment, and this time presses his lips against his.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #officially done with Christmas #hope you guys like it cause i'm pooped

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singeramg · 4 years

Text

Midnight: Chapter 15

Pairing: Clark Kent/ Metahuman! Black! OFC!

Rating: E or M, NC-17 whatever just not for under 18

Warnings: Smut! ( Finally what I promised right?)

A/n: Okay as as mentioned above this chapter does contain smut, if its not your thing skip to the end. I give a brief summary in my ending author’s note. Please don’t blow me up talking about you weren’t warned.

Catch up HERE!

Midnight: Chapter 15

*Flashback*

“Come on Clark you gotta tighten up my dude. This shit is not cute.”

I was standing in the bedroom to his room at his mother's house, in jeans, yellow t-shirt 70′s writing of the words BOSS, across the chest, my silver hoop earrings and freshly applied cherry carmex. Mrs. Martha had called to to come drag Clark from his self imposed shut down, so instead of a quick mall trip by my lonesome, I was here. He and Lois broke up two weeks ago and he went from optimistic to wanting to follow her to the assignment she picked up overseas (and I told him that might be a bad idea if Superman got a rep for stalking women) he was now in the depression stage. Martha has enough of him not coming out of his room (he also couldn’t go back to the apartment he shared with Lois.) and requests for chocolate and junk food.

Apparently I was the big guns, and I had no clue how bad it was until just now standing in the doorway to the room. It literally had enough empty bottles to become a recycling plant. He was giving me teenage boy vibes and this was a grown ass man.

The part of me that wanted Clark for myself was kind of happy that he and Lois weren’t together but a bigger part of me was crushed for my best friend. I knew how much he loved her, how he planned on proposing to her next month on their anniversary. I could feel how upset he was and I wanted him to feel better.

“Gia what are you doing here?”

“I came to figure out why my best friend has been dodging my phone calls for two days the. I find out he is back at home with his mother and is doing his best to become part of the furniture.”

“I’m sick Gia.”

I stare at him pointedly.

“Kiss my ass your sick....That would work if you were human Clark. You can’t catch a goddamn virus. Now if you had told me a stomach ache I might have believed you. Get your lying ass up dude!”

I walked into the room, and sat at the foot of his bed. He had the covers pulled over his face. He had reached the grief stage and it was not good. I started pulling on the covers trying to inch it down and it worked for the whole of two seconds before he put a stop to that.

“Gia I just want to be left alone.”

I raise an eyebrow and look around in the chaos.

“If this room is any indication to go by you cannot be trusted to be left to your own devices.”

“Giaaaaa.” He groans out and I stifle a giggle, because I know he is in pain but the whine he did was kinda hilarious.

“Kaaaal.”

I copy his tone and then he sighs and pulls the cover tighter. It was my turn to sigh. I kick off my shoes, and walk over to the opposite side of the bed that Clark was laying on.

I focus all my energy into my hand and yank at his cover, having just enough force to pull it away, however I don’t yank it completely off of him, choosing to slide in next to him.

Clark’s big blue eyes look about as sad as I had ever seen him and his hair looked slightly overgrown and he was growing a beard, only clothed in a pair of shorts. Laying down next to him, I reached up to his face, because the face of the strongest man in the world did not look like the strongest.

“Clark you have got to come face the world sometime.”

“Does it have to be today? The world is probably the reason she left. I was so busy saving it that I bet she didn’t want to stay around.”

“Yes boo it has to be today. You can’t sit in here day after day, it won’t make her come back. I’m not saying it isn’t hard to get over something like this but the first step is to try.”

“What if I don’t want to try?”

“Well I guess we could lay here all day? I mean I may or may not start doing my Britney Spears impressions, then maybe I’ll move on to Miley Cyrus, because I know just how much you love that Party in the USA song, then maybe a little “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys....”

He doesn’t move

“ Ooh baby, baby, ohh Baby baby”

“Okay okay. I’ll get up just please no singing.”

I start laughing as Clark flips the covers back, and gets up. I knew he absolutely could not stand those songs and/or artists. I couldn’t help but look him over, his body just as fit as ever, slightly jealous that he could spend multiple days eating and drinking nothing but crap and still look like you could grate cheese on his abs.

-“Stop it Gia.”- I told myself because I knew I couldn’t go down that road of thinking.

“So now that you got me out of bed what do you want me to do.”

-‘Get back in.-’ Says my inner-thoughts. Outwardly I say

“I think you need a day out. Get dressed Kent. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

I pull myself from his bed and start walking, slightly tripping over something on the floor.

“Oh and you need to clean up this mess before we leave, Ms. Martha is not about to chew me out for your mess. No sir.”

“M’am yes M’am.” He says with a look that didn’t scream America Golden boy, but something that was up to no good.

He says cheekily and half ass salutes in my direction. I toss up my middle finger in his direction and start singing, ‘She’s just a girl, but she’s on fire...’, much to his annoyance, and close the door to his room on the way out, knowing he can hear me all the way down the stairs and even is whisper, which annoys him even worse...

*Later that night*

“Clark you are such a cockblocker!”

We were standing near the exit outside of a bar in Metropolis. We had been there about an hour and a half, Clark had a couple of beers while I sipped on a drink. I left him at the table to get us another round and some shots when a good looking guy walked over to me. He was tall, fit and looked like he kept himself together with a neat fade all waved out and a swagger about himself. Also his emotions were quite even keeled. Which was nice and rare for a change of guys coming up to radiating all the emotions of someone only looking to bone. He introduced himself as Terrance, and I gave him my name. We were talking for all of 10 minutes when Clark walked over to where we were standing, and I had just finished laughing at something Terrance had said, Clark puts his hand on my lower back and says

“Gia darling I’ve been looking for you. Did you get the drinks? Oh who is your friend?”

I glared at him and then said “This is Terrence, Terrence this is my friend Clark.”

Clark shakes his hand but I can tell he puts just a little too much force behind it because the guy winces ever so slightly and Clark emotions go from protective, jealous to pleased.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead look at Terrence.

“It was cool to meet you both, I’ve got to get back to my friends.”

He was scurrying away before I could even say goodbye. It was then that I dragged Clark outside.

“What do you mean Gia?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Alien boy.” I say the last part in a whisper and poke him in his chest.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“So you are going to act like you didn’t just almost break ole’ boys hand in there?”

At this he laughs slightly, but it was at least more of a genuine laugh than I had gotten from him in a few weeks.

“I wasn’t going to break it. I just wanted to see how he held up. If he even wants the potential to be in your life he’s got to pass muster.”

“Your muster. He passed mine just fine.”

“You would have chewed him up and spit him back out Gia. Besides he wasn’t worthy I mean he didn’t even have his pants pulled up all the way.”

“I told you if it’s done right is called swagger. Anyway. Like I said you are a cockblocker.”

“Sure, you will be thanking me later from saving you from a bad decision.”

I did some kind of cross between a growl and groan and turned away starting to go back inside realizing Clark wasn’t going to get it. He stops me by gently grabbing my arm.

“Gia wait.”

He pulls me backward to him again, I end squarely folded into his arms, with his front pressed to my back, face in the curls I left down for the night. I ignore how good this feels, the smell of him, the strength corded through his arms as he holds me tightly.

“I am sorry Gia. I guess I just don’t want you to leave me. Tonight was supposed to be about the two of hanging out, helping me get over a heartbreak. I just didn’t want my best friend to leave me to drink alone.”

He says next to my ear and I fight off a shutter. I respond by taking a deep breath and saying.

“I wasn’t going to leave you Clark, what kind of best friend would I be if I let you drink alone?”

I did my best to be mad, but with the way he wrapped his arms around me, the small yet sweet words he used, I was putty. He didn’t have to know how turned on I got by the sound of his voice and honestly I didn’t want to figure out why my heart was racing. If I stayed like this any longer he would figure out it wasn’t from anger.

So I pulled away from him and turned back faux mad and said

“Come on Kent bring your ass, next round is on you...”

One hour later:

We walked into my apartment, glad that I hadn’t left it a mess before heading over to see Clark. He trailed behind me, holding the box of cookies from the late night cookie place not far from my house.

“I still can’t believe we stopped for cookies at 12 in the morning.”

“Come on Clark you know there is nothing better than a warm cookie late at night. How many times have you snuck one of your mom’s cookies at night when she was sleeping.”

He ponders

“Touché. I didn’t even know that place existed.”

“Yes, it’s fairly new but still awesome. My coworker told me about it and I went one night.”

I didn’t tell him my first time going was the night he showed me the ring he got for Lois and I ate way too many cookies and some vanilla ice cream then had a pity party I threw for myself.

He shakes off his jacket and I cut on a lamp in the living room. He goes over to my couch and plops down, carefully as not to break it. He opens the box of treats and starts to eat one. One of the types I picked out, even though he didn’t ask for that one when specifically asked.

I came back with bottles of water from my kitchen to find the travesty in my living room.

“Oh hell naw! You are seriously about to get put the fuck out dude! I know you are not eating my peanut butter chocolate chip cookie.”

“There’s like 3 in here.” He shrugs not giving a care in the world and looking down at his phone.

“Yep and all three were mine Kal-El. Now I’ve got to fight you...”

At this he looks up and notices I have red energy balled up on my fingertips. He has half of the cookie left and offers it to me sheepishly, I almost knock it out his hand but that would be too much of a waste so I grab it and eat the rest and wave my hand at the tv.

“It is so easy to forget you have powers Gia. That you are like me in some ways, but then you do little things like cut a tv on with a wave of your hand or try to kill me and I remember.”

“I’ve been trying to tamper my use but honestly I just don’t want to look for the remote.”

“Good reason. Now since I’m not ready to go home yet and you promised me a movie. What’s on?”

I flicked through Netflix, choosing to cast some action flick I’d been meaning to watch, knowing that anything sappy would just make Clark sad again. I put my feet on the coffee table in front of me, relaxing into the cushions finally. Honestly I wanted to put on pajamas but currently they all consisted of Clark’s shirts and short-shorts (if I even wore those) it wouldn’t be appropriate to wear around him, nor did I want him to take them back. So I stayed in my clothes and Clark had come out of his shoes, socks and the glasses he didn’t need. In a surprise move however instead of sitting straight up on his end of the couch, he lays down, head in my lap.

Most of the time it was Lois he laid on like this or I fell asleep on his shoulder on accident, never fully intentional. I didn't jump up, instead my hands flew up to his hair and pushed it back. He emits relaxed energy and settles further in my lap. I briefly wondered how long had it been since he allowed himself to be cared for?

We watched the movie and I polished off two cookies and we were about halfway through when an intimate scene came on in the film. My heart rate picks up slightly as the faces on scene blur slightly and I let my mind wonder to what it would be like if that was me and Clark.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat right?”

I push at his head playfully and he sits up, but he is much closer than before because of how he had moved to put his head in my lap. He is smiling one of those megawatt smiles and I Want to punch him kinda but I also want to kiss him. The thought only arouses me further and I want to disappear into the couch.

“It’s a perfectly natural reaction to the movie.”

“Sure, this isn’t because you find Sebastian Stan attractive or anything. Sure.”

He takes a large slip of his water, smug.

“Hey I’ve got to take my kicks where I can get them. Since someone that shall remain nameless kept scaring the guys away from me all night.”

“All of them were looking at you like a piece of meat.”

“ Did you ever think that I wanted them too. I mean come on, a girl has her needs.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to sleep with some guy you barely know because he shows you some attention.”

I look at him hurt. He had no clue I was still a virgin but that didn’t give him the right to imply I was whoring myself out to any and everyone. Even if I did he still had no right to judge me.

“Do you really think that low of me Clark? That I sleep with everyone?”

He immediately radiates guilt and regret.

“No I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it. I..I think I’m going to head to bed. You can let yourself out now Kal.”

I say and realize maybe that was one of the reasons he could never see me the way I saw him. This whole time he thought I was a hoe. I get up from my position on the couch, and as my face and eyes burn from embarrassment and sadness I walk to my room, but Clark is faster, stopping in front of me to keep me from the entrance to my bedroom.

“Clark move.”

I say, moving very quickly to the anger stage.

“Gia wait. Please I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t thinking of you like that. It was bad wording...”

“If it came out that easy then you were already thinking it.”

“I wasn’t! Honest!”

I roll my eyes and focus my energy into my hand again, having practiced just enough strength to move Clark even if he wasn’t willing. I was proud of myself when he actually moved and I had enough time to get into my room, close and lock the door.

“Fucking Jackass.” I whisper to the empty room.

I don’t wait to hear the door close, settling on a hot shower to get all the grime and dirt off of me from sitting in a smoky , sweaty bar half the night. I chastised myself the entire time I was in the shower looking back on all the times we laughed together, me possibly making a sex related joke or dirty throw away comment and realizing he had been thinking that of me the entire time. I grabbed an old shirt and shorts for bed, glad that bras were not required for being in your own home. I cut off the light to en-suite bathroom and jumped nearly a foot finding Clark sitting in my accent chair next to the now open window.

“Goddamnit Kal-El you scared the shit out of me. How did you get in here?”

“You should really keep your windows locked, I mean there are so many weird folks out here that could want to hurt you. Trust me I hear most of them.”

“Well I can deal with most creepers just like I thought I had dealt with the one standing in my room right now.”

I say, waving my hand toward the lamp next to my bed that comes on to illuminate his face. I can feel that he’s sorry and then desire comes right behind the sorry emotions.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

Clark asks me suddenly, with his head turned slightly, almost in confusion and I take note as I looked down, that it was one of his royals shirts and it fell about mid-thigh, which regrettably hid my shorts.

“I may or may not have borrowed it a while ago, but anyway that is off topic. Why are you still here?”

He comes from the other side of my bed rather quickly, but his gait is not relaxed, it is more of a proud quickstep. I called it his ‘determination’ look, and now I was nervous. Was he mad for me borrowing...stealing the shirt? His emotions didn’t read mad however. In fact they were the exact opposite, the intensity of them made me rub my thighs together slightly.

“I was here to make you listen to my apology because you are being stubborn again and you know exactly how much I hate you being mad at me so I was going to volunteer servitude and grovel shamelessly but now I am not so sure.”

I could feel the tension in the room and I was sure I was just making it awkward for myself. So I crossed the room, away from him, and headed to my dresser, going to a drawer where I kept other nightwear that didn’t belong to Clark. I didn’t have many options but I certainly didn’t want to look at him. I bent down to get a new shirt from the drawer, quickly skipping over the other 6 shirts that belonged to him.

“So what aren’t you sure about Clark? I don’t give apologies for stealing a comfy shirt. Like you want it back or something? I mean at least let me toss it in the wash first.”

Grabbing a purple tank top that I hardly wore, I stood back up, jumping at the slight of Clark directly behind me in the mirror.

“Oh I think I want it back but not after you’ve washed it.”

I haven’t turned around, choosing to stare at him from the mirror. Our eyes are locked and my face feels warm again, I fiddle with the shirt in my hand as lust begins to roll off of Clark in waves. In direct reaction to both of our emotions swirling around I feel myself grow wet.

“You know I’ve been looking for this shirt all over.”

Clark steps close enough that I feel the warmth he radiates on my back. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls me backwards, I gasp feeling his hardness poke me in my back, seeing as he was quite a bit taller than me. He leans down his hand still on his waist, and sniffs, I let myself melt closer to him, so unsure of myself or what exactly was happening but unable to stop it. He pulls away from my hair and sniffs again.

“You know Gia, one of the perks of being an ‘Alien boy’ as you like to call me, is that my sense of smell is fantastic. Do you have any clue what I smell now?”

I shake my head, too nervous to say the wrong thing and ruin whatever was happening.

“I smell nothing but you. I can smell how aroused you are and it’s driving me crazy. Usually it’s faint, covered by your clothes and body washes, I can ignore it, chalk it up to you thinking of someone else. This time I can’t.”

“Clark I am...”

“Please don’t say you are sorry Gia. I don’t want you to be. What I want is my shirt back, now are you going to take it off or should I rip it? Although I have to say I’m partial to the first because I want more opportunities to take it off of you in the future.”

I feel my breath leave my lungs and it is almost embarrassing how quick I reach down to the hem of the shirt and pull it upwards. We were still standing in the mirror with my back to him, but with the shirt off and no bra, everything was on display.

Clark delicately runs his fingers down my bare arms, then leans down and his lips meet my shoulders, kissing toward my neck where the junction of my shoulder and neck meet. His hands move to the front of my body, a light touch to my stomach and upwards. The mirror reflects as his large hands grip my breasts and squeeze. I moan out as my eyes drift shut, and my head falls back into his shoulder. I grind myself backward against his hardness and he releases his own moan against my ear. His fingers from one hand drifts over a darkened nipple and then down space between my breasts, trailing down my stomach.

“I could leave as you requested Gia, but I know you don’t want that do you?”

“No. Please stay.” I say and I free myself from his grasp as I turn around. He was still wearing the glasses so I pulled them off, sitting them on the dresser without breaking eye contact with his blue eyes that are blown so wide they are almost black. I reach up, and pull him down by the collar of his shirt, finally kissing him the way I had been dreaming about forever.

He doesn’t break the kiss, only leans down to pick me up and my legs automatically wrap around his waist. He walks over to my bed, laying me down and following with him on top, my legs automatically opening to make space for him between them. He stops kissing me to pull his shirt off revealing the glorious chest I had seen more times than I could count, but never in this context. I reach down to pull at my own shorts, but he stops me.

“Allow me.”

I nod at him still nervous to speak much. I watch him pull my shorts and panties off and he stares at the glistening mound between my legs.

“So wet, I bet you would leave a puddle if I picked you up.”

“A..aaand what will you do about that Kent?”

I taunt him nervously, but it’s not as clear as it would be normally. The smirk he sends in my direction would have melted my panties if I had been wearing them, it screamed dirty.

“Guess I’ll have to clean it up won’t I?”

He says and leans down to kiss me again, my hands fly up into his curls, and meanwhile his hands drifts from my hips downwards to my thighs, his hands are warm and they skim up my thighs teasingly. His fingers don’t stop at my thighs and they finally land at my center., meanwhile he stops kissing my lips and his kisses begin to drift down my body. Warmth soon encloses one of my nipples, teasing me until it is taunt with his wet tongue, and one of his long digits enters me slowly.

“Oh Clark”

I groan and shift to look down. He takes it as encouragement and moves over to my other nipple and after a few more minutes he adds another finger, stretching me. My hips arch into his hand and as he moves them in and out I can feel myself shuttering around his fingers. I want more inside of me than just his fingers but I was still nervous about all of this. I had fooled around before, made it this far with exactly one guy before him but everything felt new with Clark. Before I had always been in control of how I felt and what was being done, but I felt like I had none of that with Clark. He doesn’t stop kissing my chest, down my stomach, his lips meeting his fingers.

This was new to me and as his lips made contact my hips lifted off the bed. My thighs try to drift shut, but of course Clark doesn’t allow that to happen, now using both hands to hold my thighs open, and my hands move back to his head again, desperately wanting to keep him there, with his tongue dancing around my clit.

“Oh my god Clark!”

“You taste so good Gia. I could stay down here and worship at the fountain of you forever.”

My eyes roll shut again, his words making my juice flow even more, which he drinks up with a chuckle against me, the vibrations only driving me further into my pleasure. When he stops eating me out I glare at him like he’s gone mad, I had been so close. Did he not just say he wanted to drink from me forever?

I glare at him, probably more like a pout I figured since he only laughs again.

“Such an attitude for someone who wants to cum.”

“Clark, where are you going?”

I am afraid he’s finally changed his mind about all of this.

“I am not going anywhere beautiful. Everything I need is right here in this room.” He begins unbuckling his jeans, I watch as they slide down his thick thighs revealing his length which I immediately get intimidated by. He is long and thick and I wonder how that plans to fit inside of me? Clark’s eyes follow my eyes to where I had been staring.

“Where is the famous Gia courage? Don’t think you can handle me?”

I can’t meet his eyes and look around the room. I was actually nervous about this moment.

“Actually...I don’t know if I can...I..”

Clark’s eyebrows furrow as he notices that I am no longer looking like I am going to pounce on him, but instead looks like I’m ready to bolt. Instead of climbing on top of me he lays next to me.

“Gia why are you so nervous? You know I would never hurt you right?”

I nod and pull one hand across my chest covering myself, feeling more self conscious the longer he looks at me. I am staring at the wall opposite him.

“I am just nervous that’s all. I’ve ne--- I have never done THIS before okay?”

He doesn’t say much for a moment and I just know he is about to get up and get dressed because somebody that looks like Clark doesn’t want someone inexperienced like me. Why would they? He had to notice all of the women at the bar staring him down all night. He had his pick and those women probably knew what to do and could give him a lot more pleasure than I could.

Clark’s hand comes up to my face, fingers delicately touching, turning it so that I could look at him.

“Gia. Are you saying you are a virgin?”

“Fresh as the fallen snow on a mountain top. Kinda blows your “Gia is hoe” theory doesn’t it?”

I joke, trying to relieve the awkwardness of the room, but Clark doesn’t laugh with me.

“ I’ve never thought that about you and please don’t deflect this... seriously. Are you sure about this? I mean that you want to do this with me?”

I nod. My mouth was too dry to speak, but Clark wasn’t letting that slide.

“I need words from you Gia.”

The command is simple and direct but a turn on nonetheless. I don’t let it show outwardly however.

“Yes Clark. I’m sure. I trust you with this part of me.”

He searched my eyes for a lie, but I knew he wouldn’t find any. His demeanor changes as he kisses me, and his fingers find my opening again. He spends more time opening me up, and he swallows almost every gasp and moan from my lips, then drops back down creating a suction with his lips around my clit that send me soaring.I begin to cum around the fingers tapping that spot inside of me that make me writhe about on the bed.

Once I come down from the high of my orgasm, I find him staring at me again, if I could I’d blush over the intensity of his gaze.

“You are breathtaking Gia.”

He turns and grabs his wallet from the jeans that had been unceremoniously dropped to the floor, producing a condom from inside. I can’t watch him put it on, and I know he can hear how fast my heart is racing again. Clark glides over my body and my legs open wider to make space for him again.

“I promise I will never intentionally hurt you, but this may hurt slightly based off of what I’ve been told love.”

I brace my hands on his strong shoulders.

“ It’s okay. Like I said I trust you.”

I feel his length slide in between my folds gathering the wetness there, before slowly guiding himself inside of my welcoming body. At least I thought it was welcoming, it felt like I was trying to push him out, and it felt like forever before he came to a stop. He stares at me and kisses me again, full engagement of his lips and tongue as he pushes forward, which makes me break the kiss to gasp into his mouth and whimper through the pain. I don’t even realize my face is wet until Clark wipes my face with the hand that is not holding him upwards.

“Breathe please Gia baby.”

I feel my chest rattle as I settle into the pain. Clark is whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and as the pain abates I cue him to move.

He moves out again slowly and as he sets a pace, the pain drifts into pleasure and my nails can’t dig into his back, as his skin doesn’t allow it, so they glide across his back. His hands glide down my body touching every part he could find.

“Ugh Clark Faster.”

The overwhelming sensation builds and I flutter around the hard flesh as it moves in and out of me. Clark is definitely holding back and I can tell as he thrusts me through my orgasm. The second one of the night for me and none for him. I start to feel that maybe this is a penance for him, maybe it me, or maybe even a mistake to him. His desire hadn’t gone away, as he was still hard inside of me.

“Clark, is there a reason you haven’t… you know.”

His face is hovering above mine, his smile is wide following my question. I feel embarrassed considering I couldn’t even use the right words, despite him being inside of me at the current moment.

“I’ve already asked you to use your words Gia.”

He pushes forward suddenly and I make some cross between as gasp and moan.

“ Fuck.”

“ Well that's a word. A dirty word, but word nonetheless.I’ll give you what you want.”

He teases me.

“I didn’t think anything else expressed that properly.”

“No? I think I can get a few more words out of you tonight. Then again as long as my name is one of them you can say whatever you want baby.”

His hands slide up the back of my thighs, ending behind my knees. He pulls them up and thrust downwards, deeply into me. My arms lock behind his neck and he obliges me to pull him down into a kiss. He thrusts harder and faster, his lips swallowing my groans and cries as we both hear how wet he is inside of me. He was so deep inside of me and I relished in the groans into my ears.

I gave completely into the feelings of the moment, feeling Clark inside of me transcending the moment. As I flutter around him again, and he moves us higher and faster, I realize that us ...like this was what I had been waiting on…

*End flashback*

That night had been one of magic, at least at the time. Clark had taken his time and thoroughly taken me apart, and put me back together. Despite my later ramblings I never regretted that it had been him, and not just because of our son. I haven’t asked Clark if the condom broke and if it did he never told me. I never regretted it because at the time it had been everything I didn’t know I needed and I seriously doubted it would have been that good with anyone else.

The drive back to the manor was long but it gave me time to think. I needed to think about what I could say to Clark. How do you admit to someone that you’ve loved them like forever? One could guess you would just say it, but I didn’t know it would be that simple. I was about halfway home when a shadowy figure appeared in the middle of the road. It causes me to slam my breaks and I find myself spinning in a circle, then I was rolling, where it came to rest against a tree.

I cough roughly looking around for my phone and I am grateful that I was wearing a seat belt. I can feel that I am in extreme pain, blood dripping from my face, but with the smell of gasoline in the air. I can’t stay in this car or I will die. I use heat energy to create a blade to cut my seat belt since it jammed from the impact. I crawl myself from the driver's seat, ignoring the searing in my hands as the broken glass digs into them.

“Fuck.”

I say, noting that my ankle feels like it’s on fire again indicating some sort of injury. Coughing I try to see my way to the road for help as the car begins to smoke. My heart clenches as the shadowy figure walks toward me with nothing but hatred and determination on its heart.

I try to scramble away and try to toss a hasty shield but I’m too weak to manage it.

The figure grows closer and closer, it laughs. Surprising me by being light and feminine.

It comes close enough as the car, that I had moved away from explodes. It pulls off the hood to reveal a familiar face.

“Waa...Tracy?”

“Long Time no see Gia. It’s time to come home.”

And with that she punches me in the face, and everything fades to black...

A/n: Boom.

No but really I truthfully need feedback on this one, because I like reading smut, but hate writing it. Had to get that Superababy here somehow huh?

SUMMARY: Flashback of the night Kalen was conceived! Gia is forced to crash her car and is taken by someone by the name of Tracy who is familiar to Gia.

As always thnk you for reading, commenting and reblogging! You all rock! The taglist is open!

Taglist:

@romyr4 @bloodyinspiredfuck @p3nny4urth0ught5

#Henry Cavill #SUPERMAN X OFC #Superman #Clark Kent xOFC #Clark Kent #henry cavill smut #Clark Kent Smut #fanifiction #dc universe

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starmakerdotcom · 4 years

Text

summary : it took a whole month for milo to realize that maybe dating a fan you meet out in public isn’t the best idea he’s ever had.

characters : zhao honghui , jung yeonwoo , lee hayoon , some of solar ensemble are mentioned

genre : fluffy at the start but it gets more angsty near the end

warnings : swearing , talk of sex , they do fuck but i ended up not including the smut , lowkey manipulation if you squint , overall this is what not to do if you have an idol bf

words : 3.9k

[ february 20th, 2020, smk building cafe ]

“so... remember when we were at the airport last week when our flight was delayed?”

“yeah, what about it?”

honghui fiddled with the straw in his drink, watching the liquid swirl around as he tried to properly string his words together, “uh- basically i- i kinda met a girl?”

yeonwoo nearly choked on her drink.

“pfft- how on earth did you meet a girl at the airport for the hour we were separated?”

“did you not see the vlog from that day?”

“who are you kidding? i don’t watch our vlogs.”

“i-“ honghui chuckled, “it sounds so weird. so when i took minjae and jihoon with me to get a snack-“

“and you brought me back a cold coffee.”

“yeah. anyways, this girl- hayoon- was working at the counter, and she recognized me. she said something like, ‘are you milo from solar?’ i said, ‘yep, i am!’ and she started talking about how big of a fan she was, which was cool because we don’t meet many fans out and about like that.”

yeonwoo hummed, running her thumb down the side of her glass, leaving a dry stripe down the center of the condensation build. “so...? don’t stop there, tell me more!”

honghui nodded hastily, “yeah, we actually talked for a few minutes while my drinks and stuff were getting made, and we got along really well. she ended up slipping me her phone number with the order. we haven’t texted much but i have her instagram.”

“you’ve gotta talk to her!” yeonwoo exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table with each syllable for emphasis, “she seems sweet, shoot your shot dude.”

“shoot my-? nevermind. maybe i’ll find time to talk to her when promotions end, i’m a little busy right now,” honghui said, “i mean, we’re all a little busy.”

“you’d better.”

“i will!” honghui exclaimed, slightly taken aback by yeonwoo’s pushiness.

[ april 1st, 2020, solar dorms ]

the only light in the room was coming from honghui’s phone screen, the brightness fully down but somehow still too bright. it may have been the middle of the night, but promotions had just ended and he was texting with hayoon. well, more specifically he sent hayoon a text fifteen minutes prior and was nervously anticipating her reply. which had yet to come.

[ honghui : hey hayoon! just thought i’d say hi because promotions are over now and i have a bit of a break to talk :) ]

sent at 12:03 am

honghui sighed dramatically, then paused hearing minjae stir on the top bunk of the other bed. he forgot it was the middle of the night and people were actually sleeping.

he was so caught off guard by minjae that he didn’t even realize for a few seconds that his phone had buzzed.

[ new message from : lee hayoon ]

[ lee hayoon : hi milo! what’s up? ]

he swore the room got a few degrees warmer.

honghui quickly typed a message back, subconsciously bouncing his foot under the cover out of what was most likely nervousness, excitement, anticipation, who knows.

[ honghui : just wondering what you’re up to ]

[ lee hayoon : well, right now i’m getting ready for bed because it’s late. why aren’t you asleep? ]

[ honghui : i don’t know, if you want to go to sleep though i’ll let you ]

[ lee hayoon : it’s fine! i don’t mind talking for a while ]

[ honghui : are you sure? i don’t want to keep you up too late, i’ve got nothing going on tomorrow but i don’t know about you ]

[ lee hayoon : you’re so cute. it’s fine, i’m serious! ]

honghui felt his chest swell, as well as a strong urge to squeal into his pillow. but he didn’t, because that’s weird, and there were people sleeping a few feet away from him. a cute girl called him cute, and that absolutely made his heart melt.

he kinda lost track of time texting her. before he knew it, it was suddenly 2am and they had plans to hang out that friday. he could barely keep his eyes open.

[ honghui : i’m about to pass out. want to continue talking tomorrow? ]

[ lee hayoon : of course! goodnight :) ]

after reading her final message, honghui shut his phone off and turned over, smiling to himself. he’d consider that to be a pretty good night.

[ april 3rd, 2020, a random street corner ]

honghui stared at his phone eagerly, waiting for hayoon to say she was around the corner. they had decided to meet up and walk to the park nearby, where a couple of her friends might join her later that day. he was hesitant to this idea at first, but hayoon assured him everything would be fine. he was in such a good mood though that he didn’t let it bother him, not even the loud incessant honking of vehicles going down the street or the rather smelly dumpster in an alley behind him would dare taint his good mood.

suddenly his phone dinged, and he looked down to see a text from hayoon.

[ lee hayoon : i’m right around the corner! are you here yet? ]

honghui smiled excitedly before typing a message back.

[ honghui : yep! i’m wearing a long coat and a bucket hat lol ]

just then, a girl in a cute sporty jacket and chunky white sneakers walked around the corner and looked at him. it was hayoon, obviously, with her hands in her pockets and a big smile on her face.

“hi milo!” she said, waving excitedly at him. one of the first things he noticed about her was how short she was, not that that was a turn off or anything, but he had a good eight inches on her with her shoes on, he suspected she’d be about yongmi’s height without them, maybe shorter. it was cute.

“hi!” he said back, “you don’t need to call me milo by the way, my real name is fine.”

hayoon giggled nervously, “i totally would, i’m just really bad at pronouncing chinese words and names.”

“would calling me hyunsu make it easier? it’s my korean name, i don’t mind.”

hayoon nodded, smiling, “that works a lot better, i’ll remember that.”

as they walked to the park, they struck up friendly conversation with each other, hayoon told honghui about her new job at a cafe her aunt owns, and how she quit her job at the airport cafe because the transportation was too much of a hassle. honghui answered some questions she had about what being an idol is really like, and how their living situation is and all that. he was really starting to like her, she was cute, sweet, and fun to talk to.

eventually they got to the park, there wasn’t a lot there, but it was peaceful. it had a sort of serene vibe, an oasis within the concrete walls of the city.

they found a bench to sit down on which they stayed on for a while, continuing their conversations from the way over there. honghui never thought he’d learn so much about someone in a few hours, but by the time they were done, he knew the exact ages of her parents and siblings, he knew she had a tank of five fish each named after one of her favourite foods, he knew that she counted the stars through her window every night to help her fall asleep.

eventually, hayoon ran into a few of her friends while they walked around the park, and she introduced him as “her celebrity friend”. he thought that was... odd, but he didn’t say anything. they were nice enough, they asked him lots of questions about what it’s like being an idol, and he answered what he was allowed to. but before he knew it, the air was chillier and the sun was sinking down lower in the sky, giving him a signal that he probably should’ve gone back already.

as the candy floss clouds bled into the sunset, honghui bid his temporary goodbyes to hayoon and her friends, promising that they’d meet up again that weekend.

“so, i’ll see you again this weekend, right?” hayoon asked.

“definitely,” honghui replied, smiling softly with pink cheeks.

[ april 11th, 2020, hayoon’s living room ]

it didn’t feel like it had only been a week since the first time honghui and hayoon actually started hanging out.

this was officially their fifth “date”, and they had been texting 24/7, or at least it felt like they were. things were moving really fast. the first two times, they were out in public, but then their time time hanging out, hayoon took honghui to her apartment after he had come to visit her while she was working. she still lived with her mother, she was only 20 after all, and she was gonna start school soon and couldn’t afford to live on her own. her mother was out late working most nights though, so honghui never saw her.

this time, they were at her apartment, sitting in her living room watching a show. the heat wasn’t up far enough and both of them didn’t wanna get up to turn it off so hayoon resorted to cuddling up close next to honghui under their blanket, which made his heart race faster than he’d like to admit.

he really liked her, he’d already admitted that to himself, he’d also admitted it to yeonwoo right before he left that day. he could hear her voice ringing in her ears, saying, “tell her! you’ve got nothing to lose! she’s clearly interested in you.” maybe she was right.

“uh- hayoon?” he blurted out suddenly.

she looked over at him, “what’s up hyunie?” right. she had a nickname for him. maybe yeonwoo was right.

“i- uh-“ he started, trying to properly string his words together, but not getting far.

she smiled, chuckling slightly, “you what? spit it out! what do you-“

“i really like you.”

hayoon stared silently at honghui, which didn’t make him feel any better.

“oh god, sorry, that was sudden,” honghui replied quickly, his cheeks reddening, “it’s only been a week, i know, if you don’t feel the same i underst-“

hayoon cut off honghui’s rambling by sealing the gap between their lips, pressing hers against his. honghui didn’t know how to react at first, but soon sighed and relaxed into the kiss. the kiss was timid from honghui’s end, while hayoon smiled into the kiss before slowly pulling away.

honghui stared at her, dumbfounded, “so... is that a yes?”

hayoon laughed, “you’re so cute. and now i can tell people i kissed a celebrity.” honghui laughed along with that, but the laugh wasn’t as genuine as he thought it’d be.

[ april 13th, 2020, solar dorms ]

“you did WHAT?!”

“it all happened so fast! i- we just-“ honghui stumbled through his words, trying to make sense of everything that happened the previous night.

yeonwoo, who sat at the other end of the couch he was on, sighed, “that was a bit of an overreaction. i just can’t believe you lost your virginity before- literally anyone in this group who hasn’t lost their virginity yet!”

“i- don’t say it like that!” honghui’s cheeks burned as yeonwoo laughed, “it just happened, one thing led to another, you know, isn’t that how it usually goes?”

he couldn’t believe he lost his virginity to hayoon. the night after they first kissed, he visited her again, they watched their show again, and somewhere in there they kissed again. somehow that led to them making out, and then somehow that led to hayoon taking her shirt off, and somehow that led to them fucking. like he said, it all went by really fast.

“i can’t believe this.” yeonwoo groaned, “it’s been just over a week!”

“me neither,” she raised her eyebrows at honghui, “i didn’t expect us to go that far in the first place. but we did. and now i’ve lost my virginity to a fan i met at a damn airport.”

yeonwoo knitted her eyebrows together, “so... does this mean you two are a thing now?”

“i-“ he paused. were they a thing? he had no idea, they hadn’t had a serious conversation about it- at all.

“i don’t know,” honghui said finally, “we haven’t put a label on it, i guess.”

“are you going to?”

he shrugged, “maybe, we’ll see where it goes.”

yeonwoo sighed, looking at the ground, “how did you lose your virginity before me?” she laughed, lightly kicking honghui in the shin, to which he just shrugged in response, his cheeks burning a bright shade of vermillion.

[ april 19th, 2020, hayoon’s work ]

honghui officially had a girlfriend, and her name was lee hayoon.

they made it official the day after honghui had that talk with yeonwoo. he met up with hayoon and they talked about what they were, and since then, they’ve officially been boyfriend and girlfriend. so far, hayoon had been nothing but good to honghui, aside from all the “i’m dating a celebrity” jokes, which honghui found slightly obnoxious, but he chose to ignore it, because he liked her.

the cafe was relatively empty that time of day, so he found himself a table near the front door to sit down at and to wait for hayoon to finish her shift. he couldn’t see out the window well due to the building condensation, but it was overcast, and it had been raining most of the day. but today, instead of the gloomy weather reflecting his mood, honghui was feeling pretty good that day, he’d had a good three weeks, and he couldn’t see anything changing that.

when he saw hayoon emerge from the employee’s room, he stood up to greet her, but as he was about to walk over to her, the door opened. he looked over to see a small group of girls walking in, who hayoon obviously recognized, because she waved to them excitedly when they walked in.

more of her friends.

honghui sighed softly, he liked it better when they spent time together alone, but hayoon always had her friends around her. he knew her as a very social person, so he never thought much of it, but she didn’t seem to be with her friends a whole lot outside of when they hung out. it felt like almost every date now there was at least one of her friends present in some way.

he wasn’t one to protest though, so he kept silent on the issue.

“hi guys!” hayoon exclaimed as she walked over to the area where they all stood, reaching up to placing a hand on his shoulder. “hi hyunie,” she whispered, standing on the tips of her toes to try and kiss his cheek. he was so much taller than her that he had to lean down so she could reach his cheek.

“hi,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

[ april 24th, 2020, hayoon’s work ]

honghui opened the door to the cafe very slowly, seeing hayoon behind the counter with her back turned to him. with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand and a grin on his face, he snuck up to the counter to surprise her. before he came to visit her, he visited a nearby flower shop and picked up a small bouquet for her, no occasion in particular, he just felt like giving her something.

he paused when he realized she was talking on the phone to someone. now, he was never a nosy person, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop a little on the conversation she was having.

“no, not today... yeah, he keeps saying he wants to be alone with me... god no not like that! he doesn’t like when i bring a lot of friends along...”

honghui’s face fell as she continued.

“it’s not possessive, he’s a celebrity after all... i’m not just dating him because he’s a celebrity! i mean, that may be part of it... no, but-“

hayoon froze when she turned around to see honghui there. he quickly hid the bouquet behind his back.

“hi, hyunie! you’re early, give me a second-“ she spoke quickly before she went back to her phone, quietly explaining that she was gonna hang up. once she did, she turned back to the boy at the counter with a smile, “how long have you been here? hopefully not long so you didn’t have to hear me talking on the phone for so long. me and my friends talk a lot.”

he shook his head quickly, forcing a smile on his face, “nope. just got here,” he lied through his teeth.

“that’s good,” hayoon said, walking around the counter to meet him on the other side, “did you get me flowers?” she gasped, seeing the bouquet in his hand. he nodded quickly and held them out for her to take.

“i love them!” she exclaimed, kissing his hand because she couldn’t reach his cheek. he softened seeing her reaction to the flowers, a genuine smile creeping across his lips.

[ april 27th, 2020, hayoon’s apartment ]

when honghui walked in, hayoon was laying on the couch, watching tv like usual. he didn’t even say hi to her, he didn’t need to, he just walked over to the couch and climbed on top of her, his head resting on her chest. she eventually fell asleep, and honghui tried to, but he didn’t feel like sleeping and he wouldn’t be able to even if he wanted to. whether it was the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the thin curtains or the tv blaring, something was keeping him up.

he perked up when he heard hayoon’s phone buzz from on the floor beside the couch, also waking hayoon up. she didn’t check her phone, however, instead she tried to get up. she didn’t get very far though, because honghui wrapped his arms around her waist.

“don’t get up, you’re warm.”

hayoon tried to wriggle her way out of his grasp, “i’m just going to the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” he made a little sound of disapproval, but let go of her, flopping back down onto the couch as she stood up and left the room.

he groaned when her phone started dinging constantly. once again, he was never much of a nosy person, but curiosity got the better of him. he peered over the side of the couch to see what was so important that they had to sent six messages in a row.

[ message from : bestie 👯‍♀️ ]

that wasn’t really much of an indicator.

[ bestie : hayoooooon ]

[ bestie : are you there?? ]

[ bestie : or are you with your celebrity boyfriend again lol ]

[ bestie : come on he literally takes up so much of your time talk to meee ]

[ bestie : i mean i get it he’s your boyfriend but you keep saying he’s clingy ]

[ bestie : he’s gonna get in the way of our friendship lol ]

he suddenly wished he didn’t read those texts.

he was already an over thinker, but that might made it ten times worse. did hayoon think he was clingy? he didn’t think he was that clingy, but how clingy was too clingy for hayoon? he rolled on his back, sighing loudly, maybe it was just a misunderstanding, that was his solution to everything, just a misunderstanding.

that was when hayoon came back from the bathroom, walking over to the front of the couch. “you okay?” she asked, seeing him sprawled out staring up at the ceiling in thought.

he turned his head towards her hearing her voice, sitting himself up on the couch, “yeah. i think i’m gonna head back though, i don’t feel great.”

“that’s fine, is everything okay though?” she asked.

“yeah, it’s fine, i’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, standing up to give her a peck on the lips before grabbing his shoes and walking out the door.

he stayed up thinking a lot that night.

[ april 29th, 2020, solar dorms ]

this was the last straw.

over the last week there had been a lot of little occurrences that have almost set honghui off, but for some reason, this was the one that made him snap.

honghui and hayoon were in the middle of texting, and she accidentally sent him a text that was very obviously meant for someone else. normally this wouldn’t have been a big deal, but the message had something to do with how she wouldn’t like him as much if he wasn’t an idol.

[ hayoon : no he’s a sweetheart but not the type of person i’d date it he weren’t a celebrity ]

she deleted it quickly and apologized, but he’d already seen enough. he called her immediately, asking for an explanation.

“it’s not what it seems like, i swear, we were just joking around-“

“seems like a pretty weird thing to joke about, don’t you think?” honghui replied flatly.

“our humour is just like that. hyunie, listen-“

“don’t call me hyunie right now.” his voice dripped with venom. he’d only ever spoken with hayoon in the sweetest, warmest sounding voice, it didn’t sound like him at all. it scared hayoon a little quite frankly. “joke or not, it’s degrading. i just want you to be honest with me.”

hayoon sighed, “hyunsu, i’m sorry-“

“i want honesty, that’s all i want,” honghui replied, his voice softening a little. “i wouldn’t be making a big deal out of this if it wasn’t for everything that’s happened this week. the call, the texts-“

“so you did hear that phone call?”

“that’s not my point. so unless you have an explanation for all of this, i’m gonna hang up. be honest with me, if you don’t want to date me, say it to my face.”

“hyunsu, i...” her voice broke slightly, and honghui softened again. he still really likes her, so the fact that he had to do this fucking sucked. it felt like it was tearing his heart in half.

“you what, hayoon? spit it out.”

“i like you, i really do. but the reason i started dating you was because you were a celebrity, i got excited at the idea of dating a celebrity. and yeah, maybe if you weren’t famous i wouldn’t have been so quick to start dating you, but that doesn’t mean-“

honghui sighed, “i think i’ve heard enough.”

“wait! i’ll explain myself, i really do like you-“

“i like you too. but this fucking hurts, hayoon. would you like it if someone started dating you for your public status?”

hayoon sniffled so quietly it was almost inaudible, and her voice wavered slightly, “hyunsu-“

“i’ve heard enough. i don’t want to deal with this anymore.” honghui said bitterly. “goodbye, hayoon. find some other boy’s heart to break.”

and with that, he hung up.

they were over. a small part of honghui hoped that entire conversation would turn out to be a misunderstanding. they’d make up, and things would go back to normal. but sometimes, life doesn’t work out in your favour. sometimes it treated you like a little kid would a daisy they found in the grass- plucking you clean. which sounded like an exaggeration, but to honghui, a hopeless romantic who thought he and hayoon really had something, it wasn’t.

that was it. they were over. honghui hated it but he tried to remind himself that it was better this way.

that didn’t make it any easier.

#group.solar #solar.scenarios #milo.dev #WHEW i finished it #this ones kinda sad #but i like writing about milo bc hes the sweetest boy #koc #kpop oc #koc idol group #oc kpop group #kpop imagines #fake kpop group #idol oc #starmaker entertainment #made up kpop agency #etc.hayoon

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years

Text

No. 1 Party Anthem

This is based on the titular song by Arctic Monkeys, and the vibe I got/ scene I imagined from it. This is the first time I’ve ever really done something like this, the closest I got prior was Somewhere Only We Know(Seungkwan), so I hope this turned out okay. Please leave me comments so I can hopefully write better in the future!

Warnings: Alcohol,night clubs, mentions of sex. Gays.

|Master List|

Leather jacket, collar popped like antenna

Never knowing when to stop

Sunglasses indoors, par for the course

Lights in the floors and sweat on the walls

Cages and poles

The club was busy, this time of night it always was, men and women dancing on every available surface, spinning around the gold poles and all wearing so little. It was hard for him not to check them all out, any of these people could be the distraction he was looking for, just another body to distract him from her.

“Be honest man, you hate coming here.” Vernon shouts over the music, his arm thrown over the young man who had been in one of the cages just a few moments pior. “Why do you?” Wonu throws his friend a grin, gesturing around to the mass of bodies.

“No chance I won’t get laid tonight.” He shouts back, earning a whoop from another person dancing.

“You’re just looking for distractions, Wonu, you’re looking in all the wrong places.” Vernon nods at his boyfriend’s words.

“Boo’s right, there’s more than just getting laid.”

“You’re right, I’m getting a drink.”

She's having a sly indoor smoke

She calls the folks who run this her oldest friends

Sipping her drink and laughing at imaginary jokes

As all the signals are sent, her eyes invite you to approach

Of course he noticed you, how could he not? The golden dress , the cigarette dangling from your lips, and the brightly colored drink sitting on the bar in front of you, everything about you drew him in. He couldn’t seem to look away from you, so sure he knew you, but so unsure of where from. You spoke happily to the bartender, an old friend of Wonu’s, and it seemed a friend of hers as well. A smile was painted across your ruby lips as you laughed at something Joshua said, and Wonu was absolutely stuck. Why was his heart beating so fast? You must have felt him staring, because your gaze shifted from Josh to him a few seconds after he initially spotted you. Your smile broadened, head tilting slightly, beckoning him to the seat next to you.

She's a certified mind blower, knowing full well that I don't

May suggest there's somewhere from which you might know her

Just to get the ball to roll

“Josh,” He calls as he takes his seat in the barstool next to you, not even having to place his order before the drink is set next to him.

“Well, Joshy seems to know you, you a regular, sugar?” The words fall from your lips with ease, and from that moment on, Wonu is hooked.

“Something like that, what about you? I’ve never seen you here before, but I’m sure we’ve met before.” You tilt your head slightly as you think, tapping your chin.

“Maybe we have, maybe it was another life?” You muse, giving him another ruby smile. “Do you believe in past lives?”

“I do.” Wonu nods, leaning closer to you, “Maybe that’s why I came over here, cause I remembered you.” The laugh that bubbled from your lips had Wonu’s heart catching in this throat. “I’m Wonwoo, but most people call me Wonu.”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” He let your name roll from his lips, loving how it sounded. “Well, Y/n, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’d love that.”

It's not like I'm falling in love I just want you to do me no good

And you look like you could

“It’s so beautiful at Sunrise, you should go sometime.” You insisted.

“But at sunrise?” Wonu groaned. “I rarely get up before noon.”

“Then just stay up all night.” You shrugged, glancing down at her phone. “It's almost three now, and the sun rises at about 5:30.”

“Wonu, Y/n,” Josh called, making the pair of you glance over. He taps his watch, letting them know it was almost time to leave.

“Let’s go to the river then.” You chirp, and Wonu can’t help but smile. His heart was still racing, which didn’t help his own confusion. Why was he so stuck on you? All he had wanted before he met you was someone to distract him, and you were doing just that, just not the way he had planned. No doubt he was attracted to you, and no doubt he would die to get you in his bed, but right now he just wanted to be around you.

“Sure.” He caves, downing the last of his drink and extending his hand to you. Something feels right as you slide your hand into his, something warm settling in his chest as he looks up to see her.

She’s not as beautiful as he remembered, at least not in a way that makes his heart hurt. Her lips, which had been painted a soft pink were pulled into a small frown, the scar just next to them a dark shadow. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and for that he was thankful. Instead of his usual act of getting angry or rushing for another drink, he turned his attention back to you, letting you lead him from the bar.

It must have been your laugh, or maybe even his, but as he strode happily from the bar, he felt her gaze on him one last time before your voice enveloped his brain.

“Come on!”

Come on, come on, come on

Before the moment's gone

Number one party anthem

#jeon wonwoo #Seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen wonu #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo imagines #wonu imagines #wonu imagine

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yuhuangzhou · 4 years

Text

*yikes*

because i’m absolute trash i did this whole thing in reverse order...this is my overdue questionnaire!

NAME/ALIAS: aza (i love it when people can only respond to me with my name in all caps it means i’ve done a good job) AGE: 23 but i feel old as time DO YOU HAVE ANY FAVORITE HEIST MOVIES? the thieves! SO MANY of the ocean’s movies (but 8 specifically)! baby driver (love the soundtrack integration!)! dog day afternoon! OH AND ALSO that part in sense8 when they’re breaking certain members of their cluster out from the gov’t holding facility!!! love me some sense8!

y’all...this got super long so i’m putting it under a read more. i’m so, so, sorry...getting real tired of my own shit fr fr

DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER’S AESTHETIC:

sweatpants paired with pumps, stupidly cold days where the sun is bright as shit and you’re hot in the direct sun but so cold in the shade as you’re walking with a jacket on, the cold side of a pillow that you’ve flipped over on a hot night, excessive pillows on a bed, sneakily dumping your shot of baijiu, soju, or vodka down a sink or into someone else’s cup or into your own water cup (more on that below!), the kind of smile where your whole face just goes in on it - HARD - like eyes are just CHEESING and it make you feel good when you get one of those directed at you, hair perpetually down and curled or in a low pony (we ain’t showing no back of the neck for free, y’all!), when your ice cream cone breaks at the bottom but there’s the chocolate there to stop the melted cream from trickling out the bottom (coming in clutch)

IF YOU HAD TO COMPARE YOUR CHARACTER TO ANY FICTIONAL CHARACTER, WHO WOULD YOU PICK?

zhiruo falls a bit under the “lovable alpha bitch” stereotype so if any character i’d say among the lines of galinda/glinda from wicked or even a bit of quinn fabray from glee...during the moments where you didn’t absolutely fucking hate quinn fabray and also the writers for butchering her character/personality from season to season but mostly glinda vibes. zhiruo’s got lots of character development incoming - stay tuned!

IF YOU WERE IN THE PRESIDENT’S CLUB, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR SPECIALTY?

honestly maybe the getaway driver...i don’t road rage but when someone’s trying to race me i get really competitive and leave them in the dust but DON’T DO THAT KIDS DRIVE AT THE SPEED LIMIT! otherwise personality-wise probably medic 2!!!

WHAT DREW YOU TO THE PRESIDENT’S CLUB?

love, love, love heist movies! also - the canons were all so well thought out and the skeletons for them so varied and wonderful! plus, seeing the faceclaims and variety of muses and muns is so!!! awesome!!!

LASTLY, SHARE SOME FUN OR INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

doesn’t drink. not even socially. has somehow gotten by with getting a club soda and a lime at bars and pretending it’s a vodka soda. OR, getting a shot poured for her and dumping it into her water cup and just never drinking from the water or she’ll get a new one. OR dumping it down the sink when everyone’s knocking it back (if they’re in a kitchen/home) or just generally weaseling her way out of it. got SUPER FUCKING sick at like 13 and never got out of her head about it. if you can get her to drink you are SOMETHING else then! has been tipsy/drunk a total of like, four times in her lifetime. good luck if this is your muse’s goal. it’s a worthy one but i’ll be hard!

she does have a stress or social cigarette every now and then though. but she IS that bitch that uses a cigarette holder because she doesn’t want her fingertips to smell, especially if she’s handling precious, priceless art soon after.

fucking l o v e s jewlery. like it’s her achilles heel. heels come a close second though

zhiruo’s not married (clearly) but she wear a big ass teardrop diamond (smth like this) on the ring finger of her left hand. started doing this when she was 27 because people kept asking her about it and now when randos ask she just goes ‘we’re very private but i’m very happy.’ less people ask about it now since her reputation kind of precedes her/that basic info is known among her contracts/contact in her professional life BUT in regards to president’s club...will forget it’s there though - at this point it has no meaning it’s just an accessory she constantly wears. so, let the chaos ensue if your muse is like *eyes emoji* who’s the bae? zhiruo: what credit where credit is due - came up with this while talking to @prdaimu

hates sandals. hates slides. just doesn’t believe in them. anyone who consistently wears them she’s just *gagging noises* and will refuse to look at them from knee down.

when she’s done with a conversation or completely done with her train of thought she raps her knuckles against the table or any surface she can get a hand on twice

is really insecure about her height (she’s not short, she’s average height....) BUT it’s because her adopted parents are REALLY tall and it’s just become this weird complex even though she doesn’t give shit about anyone else’s height

really has a weird thing for glasses. thinks they’re super cute and attractive

also has a thing for FRAMES. a good frame should compliment an art piece or be virtually unnoticeable. she has many hard opinions on frames so if you want to hear her talk on and on about something she cares about...ask her about the ugly ass frame around the dali piece at the moma in nyc!

#prclubtalk

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walkerismychoice · 5 years

Text

Defensive Driving (Colt X MC)

Book: Ride or Die

Pairing: Colt Kaneko X MC (Gabi Santos)

Rating: PG-13ish

Summary: Colt isn’t about to let Gabi participate in the big job without some additional driving lessons, but that might not be his only motivation for offering to teach her.

Word Count: 1923

Tag List: I’m not even sure who wants to be tagged for this pairing, so let me know if you want to be added. @tmarie82 @choiceswreckedme @debramcg1106 @boneandfur @lizeboredom @i-miss-trr @alegria1580 @mfackenthal

Colt leans against the side of Gabi's car, arms crossed, with that same smug look that gets under her skin every time. "Okay, Gabi, if you are going to insist on doing this, I need to take you out for another driving lesson first."

Gabi rolls her eyes. "I passed my driver's license test with flying colors, as you know. Is this just a lame excuse to get me to hang out with you again?" As much as he infuriates her, she finds some strange satisfaction in their witty banter. She gets the feeling that he’s used to girls falling all over themselves for him, not that she’s paid much attention to the whole handsome, dark and broody vibe he’s got going on. She’s here for Logan, even if he doesn’t seem to want her here right now.

“Oh, Gabi.” Colt laughs and shakes his head. “I know you’re smarter than the average eighteen-year-old, but you are just about as naive as they come. Did you already forget what happened in the parking garage? You think you are ready for anything that could happen?”

God she hates when he’s right, but she could do without his condescending tone. “Like you are so much older and wiser than me.”

“I may not be much older, but I’m much more streetwise. If you don’t want to do this, I have better things I could be doing with my time. I just don’t need you messing this up for everyone, so if you are still in, let’s go.” Colt opens her driver side door and waits.

Gabi looks at the stairs leading to Logan’s loft where he stormed off some time ago. She wishes it were him taking her out for lessons, but the more she’s tried to be a part of all this, the more he’s pushed her away. Maybe if she can prove to him she can handle it, he’ll change his mind. “I don’t know how much more we are going to accomplish in one lesson, but if it makes you happy, fine.”

Gabi gets in the driver seat and Colt grabs several orange traffic cones and puts them in the backseat before sitting next to her in the passenger seat and punching an address into his phone’s GPS. Gabi follows the directions and a short while later they arrive at an abandoned factory with an enormous empty parking lot. There’s a few street lights around the perimeter, but other than that, its fairly dark.

Colt gets out of the car and sets up a narrow corridor of traffic cones behind her car spaced several yards apart, about the length of football field in total, and then gets back in beside Gabi. “We are going to focus on defensive driving today. If all goes well, we’ll get out of there undetected, but if any obstacles come up, you need to know how to get around them, so to start, back up between the cones all the way to the end.”

The width of the corridor is barely enough to clear her tires. Gabi checks her mirrors and then looks over her shoulders down the middle of the path. She steps on the gas and is pleased with herself as she gets through the first and second set of cones without running them over.

“Stop!” Colt commands. “I hate to break it to you, but if you have someone after you, five miles per hour isn’t going to cut it. I want you going at least sixty by the time you reach the end. Start over.”

“I was just warming up,” she lies. It was taking all her concentration to stay in a straight line that she hadn’t even given a thought to speed. She sets herself up again and then pushes down on the pedal, quickly gaining speed but running over the second set of cones. “Oops.”

Colt presses his lips into a thin line. “And that’s where you would have been caught already. Start again.” Gabi tries over and over, making it a little further each time before she veers off course, but Colt still isn’t satisfied. “Maybe if I go stand at the end, the thought of hitting me will be motivation enough.”

Gabi laughs for the first time all night. “As obnoxious as you can be, I don’t want to plow you over with my car...most of the time.”

“Maybe I need to try harder then.” Colt smirks and something about the way his eyes flicker in the moonlight makes her feel a certain way she doesn’t want to feel about him. He can be such an arrogant asshole, but when it’s just the two of them, he seems to forget every so often he’s trying to shut everyone out, and lets the real Colt slip through.

Gabi’s more determined than ever this time, not just to prove to Colt but to herself as well that she can do it. She focuses on keeping the wheel steady as she looks back and goes. Her heart races as she gets closer and closer to the end, afraid to mess it up at the last second. When she cleanly sails through the last two cones, she is so excited she almost forgets to put the car in park. She leans over and hugs Colt before quickly retreating as heat rises in her cheeks once she realizes she got swept up in the moment. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away there."

"That's twice tonight. Keep doing that I might think you are starting to like me or something." She still detects a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but his smile seems genuine for once.

The possibility of Colt wanting her to want him shouldn’t give Gabi butterflies, but it does. She looks straight ahead out the windshield to avoid giving herself away. “Alright then, what’s next?"

Over the next couple of hours Colt sets up several obstacles and scenarios, teaching Gabi how to maneuver around each one. There are a couple spin outs and traffic cone casualties, but for the most part, she thinks she's done well and feels much more prepared.

It’s dark and nobody is around once they get back to the shop. “Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was again. I’ve gotta get home before my dad gets home from work.”

“I’ll take you,” Colt offers.

“No, that’s okay. I can walk.” Gabi doesn’t know why she’s saying no when she wants to say yes, but she still never wants to give in to him no matter what it is.

Colt lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know, if I offer to do something nice for you Gabi, you can just say yes for once. You don’t really want to walk home alone at this time of night, do you?”

Gabi shakes her head. Of course she doesn't, nor does she hate the idea of him taking her. “No I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.” Colt grabs an extra helmet, handing it to her.

“Oh,” Gabi tentatively takes the helmet. “I didn’t know we were going to ride that.”

“Don’t tell me you are surprised by this, Gabi. If you know anything about me by now, you know I only drive cars when absolutely necessary. Now I can show you why.”

“I guess,” she replies nervously, all the horror stories her father has ever told her about motorcycles swirling around in her head. “But please be careful.”

Colt swings his leg over the bike and turns back to her. “I know it’s your first time. I’ll go easy on you.” He winks at her before he turns back around. She knows he’s talking about the motorcycle, but the innuendo makes her blush instantly. She quickly puts her helmet on to cover it up and climbs on behind him. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Is there somewhere to hold on? That doesn’t seem to be the case so she timidly puts her hands on either side of his waist, and Colt Chuckles. “You are going to need to hang on much tighter than that.”

Gabi scoots up further and slides her arms around Colt securely. His leather jacket rides up just enough for her to feel his taut ab muscles through his grey t-shirt. She's close enough to smell the leather mixed with his earthy scented shampoo. Of course she's always found him attractive, but taking him all in like this is almost overwhelming and she hopes if he feels how fast her heart is fluttering in her chest, he assumes it's just because she's nervous about the ride.

Colt Rev's the engine and takes off through the open garage door. The jolt's enough to make her feel unsteady and she holds onto him for dear life. He rounds the corner right away and she just about panics, feeling like she's going to slide right off, but she doesn't as Colt smoothly steers back upright. It feels like they are going really fast but when she checks the speedometer, he's going just about the speed limit and she knows it's only for her sake. Once her body decides she's not going to die and returns to its normal state, she actually starts to enjoy herself and can see why Colt likes it so much. All the cliches are true, and it's a sort of freedom and exhilaration you just can't get driving a car.

Colt must notice her hold on him loosening as she relaxes because he starts to pick up speed little by little as if waiting for her to react, but she doesn't. She feels safe with him. He misses a turn, but he's got her address typed in, so she assumes he's taking a voluntary detour to prolong the ride, and she's not going to complain. Even if she did get lost with him, at this point she wouldn't mind.

Despite taking the long route home, the ride is over all too soon. Colt stops in front of her house and they both dismount and take off their helmets. "You didn't hate that at all, did you?" Colt asks with a knowing grin on his face.

"I won't be giving up my four wheels for two any time soon, but I can see the appeal now." Gabi bites her lip, realizing how uncomfortably close they are standing to one another.

Colt lifts a hand to her face and gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She holds her breath as his fingers slowly trail down the back of her neck sending shivers down her spine, but then he swiftly pulls his back, clearing his throat. "Your, uh, hair was all messy from the helmet."

She's almost certain he was about to kiss her before he changed his mind, and she's both relieved and severely disappointed that he didn't. It felt right in the moment, but now she's thinking of Logan. He's told her to forget about him, but she know that's not what he really wants. But what does she want? "Thank you. And thanks for the ride...and the lessons."

Colt gives her shoulder a squeeze. "Just don't go telling everyone how charitable I've been. We wouldn't want them thinking I've gone soft."

Gabi laughs. "We wouldn't want that now, would we? Goodnight, Colt."

"Goodnight, Gabi." Cold puts his helmet back on and rides off, the sound of his motorcycle trailing off in the distance as she goes inside to get whatever sleep she can before the morning comes.

#playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #rod #my fic

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bellesdomain · 7 years

Text

Starlight Express Workshop - Thurs 14th Sept

Let me preface this with my overall impressions - this show was fantastic in many ways, the performances were all amazing, the band was fantastic, the staging was remarkably full and entertaining given the circumstances! It was an absolutely fascinating experience, I’m so glad I had the chance to go - and that I’m going again to see how it develops further.

But as reviews like this are bound to, this is all going to come across as very negative - but I want to start off emphasising how much I enjoyed it overall!

The theatre is a small, steeply raked auditorium, with a thrust stage about level with the 3rd row. The stairways on either side were accessible from the stage and used in the performance. There’s a gantry upstage, which forms a platform for the 8 piece band and Control - yup, live Control onstage. He had fabulous glowing headphones and an Ipad that seemed to be a racing game - I think it also included his script! Generally I am very anti-live Control, when it comes to non-replica productions - since the entire show takes place in his imagination, he exists on a different plane to the action therefore they shouldn’t interact. But given the fluid nature of this workshop, pre-recording the kid would be impossible so it worked ok!

The show opened with Andrew Lloyd Webber and Arlene Phillips giving us the context of the evening. Lloyd Webber explained how they’d workshopped “School of Rock” in a similar manner - no big automation, complex lighting cues or costume changes, just establishing the story telling. Great concept! And the venue “The Other Palace” theatre in Victoria, is being run for precisely this function.

Lloyd Webber also told us how he and Arlene Phillips had visited the German production for the English Gala, and he hardly recognised the show they were performing as his work. And indeed, I was also at the English Gala and suddenly hearing the material in its original language made the inconsistencies and plot holes glaringly obvious! So the point of this workshop is to see if they can get the show back into shape for a future production, as well as the German production’s 30th anniversary next May.

The show opened in a familiar manner, Control (playing with his ipad), sent to bed by his Mother. She sings her lullaby, the melody is taken up by the mouth organ. The Overture modulates, repeats, swells, in the fans’ mind’s eye you see the shadowy figures skating around the set - and then Control interrupts with “Stop that Boring Music!” And begins to introduce the National Engines.

I think it’s fair to say this change is getting a bit of negative feedback. That overture is the literal HEART of the show, it’s the preview of the Starlight Sequence, it’s the title song melody. It’s the magic happening, as Control falls asleep and we enter his dreamscape. The Overture alone will literally draw people to tears. To have Control dismiss it as “boring music” is crass, insensitive, and a tonal mis-fire, alienating Control from the audience. In other words, he’s a brat!

Entry of the National Trains is always a clunky way to start the show, these minor characters are so unimportant to the plot. Placing the scene later, before AC/DC, makes for better story telling, as the audience have already established who’s important and it contextualises Electra’s entrance as we’re calling forward the competitors for the race. Anyway, the workshop has given us some new names for the Nationals - Bobo the French train is now the feminine Coco, which works well. The German Engine is now named after Wagner’s opera das Rheingold. Rather than fix the dated and embarrassing reference, the Japanese train is still Nintendo. And the British train is now “Brexit” - which is as topical a joke, and I suspect will last in the public conscious about as well as his APT designation did. Yeah, that’s the point. Nobody remembers! A very quickly dated reference. There were a few of them throughout the night, so hopefully they’ll be reconsidered. Rolling Stock - Oliver Tompsett as Greaseball, greased back hair and stubble, was hilarious and a bit menacing - would probably be more menacing if I weren’t so steeped in his performances from Rock of Ages! The strangest thing here though, was it. Was. so. Slow. There’s a strange quirk that the 1984 original cast recording has the Rolling Stock track at a stodgy plod - as if an LP record is played on the wrong setting! And this is what they decided to replicate live. The performances were all brilliant, the ensemble mugging it up as their Nationals, it was hilarious and engaging, but why so slow? As far as I know, it wasn’t performed that slow in 1984, it’s just a quirk of the recording - but Andrew Lloyd Webber obviously approved of this!

Second number in was Crazy. Throughout, Crazy and Call Me Rusty have been mixed up and cut together - along with remnants of Engine of Love in there as well. It works, sort of, plot-wise it’s exactly like Engine of Love, here’s young Rusty and the coaches. There’s a lovely bit of contextualisation where Control explains “Rusty is the first train I got when I was six” which grounds us as these are his toys. Then into Crazy. George Ure as Rusty may have dried on his opening lyrics, but a bit of ad-libbing and he was back on track. Christina Bennington as Pearl got straight in there with the high option for Pearl’s “Til someone better comes along”.

Greaseball, Nationals come in to bully Rusty, and the coaches all stick up for him, however Pearl makes the point that she’s not actually Rusty’s partner, flirting with Greaseball. Then we have a version of “Call Me Rusty”, the short version used in Vegas I believe, layering “Call me Rusty if you dare. Call me Rusty if you like…” with the coaches still having the mid break from the original but with some new lyrics from Pearl about “we’re just friends”. Rusty is sent to fetch the trucks, and we have the original intro into Locomotion, “Rusty/can’t/be serious, him/go in/for the race?” but then there was some new material, Greaseball flirting with Pearl, saying “woowoowoo you’re brand new!” Dinah comes forward to warn him off Pearl but she gets sent to “go make the tea” by Greaseball and the Nationals. Here’s where we’re introduced to Tassita (shhh she’s a quiet coach and doesn’t like loud noises), and we go into the new song to “introduce” the coaches, “I Got Me (and that’s all I need)” This song felt to me like there’s some School of Rock type influence. It’s very “I can do what I like” independent rock chick. It’s not a bad song, but it doesn’t serve the purpose of introducing these characters at all, plus the pedantic mind says that these girls are railway coaches - and coaches DO need an engine. Sorry to break the vibe but coaches aren’t independent - but you can easily argue the case that an engine without coaches is as useless as coaches without an engine. The song ended quite abruptly to muted applause, but launched straight into a reprise, which was then interrupted by the Freight train.

Freight ran exactly as the 1992 London, with all the banter from the coaches, which was particularly entertaining despite being such very familiar lyrics. Whether it was due to the small ensemble, or an effort to address the gender imbalance in the show, Hopper 3 was female, and she was having a great time of it. Sadly no return of the Rockies, the Hip Hoppers are about the only remaining remnant of the contributions made by David Yazbek in 2003. The only new moment in the number was one of the most jarring changes - Caboose is included, but rather than introduce himself using the “There’s Me” melody (“at the back on every piece of track…” Being “All alone, you think you’re on your own…”) no, the Red Caboose comes straight in with “Wide Smile, High Style” melody, telling us straight off that he’s in the business of wrecking trains. His characterisation was very much aggressive, nasty and scary! No pretense at the sweet and helpful Caboose that anyone would trust, this guy is clearly one to avoid. Caboose made a point about being paid to do his job.

Straight after Freight, we have Control announcing technical problems… oh boy! A late entry! These must be his minders! Kilowatt is Electra’s security truck. Wrench is the repair truck, Purse the money truck ordered us to switch your accounts to Electra. Again money is an active concept in this world. Joule and Volta followed - male Volta, as with Hopper 3 is this a limitation of the size of ensemble?

Electra appeared in towering red velour heels, fishnet stockings under a conventional masculine ensemble of slacks and jacket. Liam Tamne has an incredible voice, great range and strength and falsetto! But his characterisation flat for my personal taste for Electra, and also really reminded me of someone else, a character on TV perhaps. He was very flamboyant and self-indulgent.

AC/DC is interrupted suddenly, as Greaseball appears. The coaches, who 10 mins earlier were making such a point of not needing no man, especially Dinah getting up in the faces of the Nationals to protect Pearl, undergo a complete 180 on their characters, turning to the regular excited fangirls we’re used to seeing in Pumping Iron. This felt especially wrong given Dinah’s “Back off girls, he’s mine!” - really? Is he? Because you were defending your girls from his flirting just now, and showed no suggestion of a relationship between Dinah and Greaseball other than antagonism. The earlier scene is massively out of character for Dinah.

Oliver Tompsett rocked Pumping Iron, of course, it’s easy to appreciate why the girls are all fangirling over him. The two female components stayed to dance, while Electra and his boys left in a huff. This was one scene where the minimal staging fell flat, as the dance break needs some rock’n’roll partner work, skates or not.

Coda Freight ran much as expected, the confrontation between Greaseball and Electra was extended by the two of them sharing the lines usually sung by the Nationals, as they mock Rusty’s intent to join the race. Coda Freight originally did not modulate key - the German production is one where it drops into a lower key which always jars. But this time we get a modulation UP a key, which is different! But not necessary, it’s quite busy enough staying in one key.

Control announces five minutes to race time, and “if you ain’t in twos, you lose”. This is where we would expect to find Crazy, and indeed we have a reprise of the number where Rusty approaches Pearl, but she rebuffs him with something about “don’t push me around”. But then their conversation follows the coaches’ melody from “Call me Rusty”, as she explains in no uncertain terms that while she likes him she wants an engine of the future. Then they are interrupted by Electra’s Bodyguard Kilowatt (shall we just call him K?) who explains Electra’s coach has a “Migraine”. Pearl has her dilemma, and will let Electra know.

Pearl has a new intro to “Make Up My Heart”, written to the “diddlydiddly” pre-race music (also used by Caboose pre-”Wide Smile”), as she discusses how Electra seems fun, then she had an echo of “He Whistled At Me” - which I think was the only occurrence of that/”Engine of Love” melody. Then that disjointed selection of melodies led into the full “Make Up My Heart” number, as performed on the 1992 London recording.

Control starts the races, with a comment about “I’ll pick your partners for you”. A new addition for the races which grew very tedious almost immediately, each engine as they’re introduced, sings the “Clear my track, this is my train now, this could be my dream, clear my track” fragment of “No Comeback” that Pearl sings in “Laughing Stock” - each with their own lyrics of course. But hearing that same fragment four times in a row was repetitive, and annoying given that that melody is meant to specifically refer to Electra. The concept of melodies referring to specific characters and event - the use of leitmotif - has more or less been lost, apart from a few occasions which shows that while they COULD use the concept, they choose not to! Race 1 ends up with a Dead Heat between Greaseball and Electra, with only the “No Comeback” melody appearing in the race music.

As the racers clear away, we have a mopey Rusty with the “Call me Rusty” melody on the mouth organ, as he approaches the Freight yard and “Momma” is singing The Blues. Mica Paris was poorly served by the existing score - while the major solos are within a reasonable alto range, most of Poppa’s recit is well below an alto. However her character, and the staging for the number was really engaging and fun, and included Caboose mooching in the background. Caboose has always seemed notable by his absence from this scene of the Freight - I presume the practical reason is that Caboose has just finished racing so to make him immediately be onstage but purely for context would be unkind. But within the world of the show, why is Caboose not hanging out with the rest of the freight? Momma’s response after “Let me hear you say Steam!” - the Starlight Express melody - is “When the Night is Darkest” rather than “When Your Goodnights have been Said”, which probably only coincidentally is kinder on her vocal range. But it’s slightly odd in a production that draws so heavily from the previous London productions, to bring in the Broadway variation of the title song. Control interrupts to inform us of heat 2, Momma decided to race and ends up with Dustin much as is familiar from other productions. The exact reason was unclear but Brexit meant the British train was missing, allowing Momma to race.

Race Two again seemed to have Control decide the race partners, and again repeated the “Clear my Track” melody, except Momma introduced herself with the Coaches’ “I got Me” melody which seems to be pretty random for an old Steamer. It was also incorporated into the race music.

After Race 2, into Laughing Stock, played much as normal, but with one small 1984 detail restored - Momma points out Rusty “Couldn’t face that losing shame!” rather than Rusty admitting his own weakness, or the line being omitted altogether.

Starlight Express - the title song closed act 1 with an unexpectedly subtle edit, new lyrics to the “When the Night is Darkest” melody. I’m not absolutely sure new lyrics were needed for this number, but they’re evocative and very much in keeping with the scene and Rusty’s emotional journey.

(And we have the interval. Go get a glass of wine. You’ll need it.)

Act 2 begins with The Rap - entirely a capella, started by Hoppers “Are you Ready?” which updated lyrics. The Coaches come in with something like “Swipe to the left? Swipe to the right? Who will be my date tonight?” which feels like it’ll date very quickly. It was a mix between the 1992 Rap in structure, “Gotta be in the frame if you’re gonna win the game, are you ready for the big one, ready!” with quite a lot of the individual lines tweaked. This meant that we’ve still got all the “Shut it, Dinah!” and some of the classic lines like “losing the race with this floppy disc” and “Boil with the oil or lose with the fuse”. Performed entirely unaccompanied, with much stomping on the beat, worked really well.

“Pearl Twirl” ran unaltered, giving Dinah a COMPLETE character shift from act 1. The confident, sassy girl is completely unrecognisable as the heartbroken Dinah singing “Uncoupled”. Fantastic performance from Natalie McQueen, really heart-felt and beautifully sung, but it was distracting how she seemed to be playing a completely different role to earlier. The staging was even much as normal, with the other two coaches hanging out behind, with varying levels of sympathy and boredom as they sing backing vocals. But without Dinah having established a character of a devoted, in love with Greaseball, the song was very out of place.

Invitation Dinah included some new material, a longer conversation between the girls, with Dinah saying “I can’t manage on my own” - again, this is not the Dinah we saw in act 1. The line “But if Greaseball changes his mind!” is in there. Tassita and Belle have very little to do - no Girls Rolling Stock - but whereas in the past the coaches only had “Oh, Dinah!” to express their frustration, this gives them a little dialogue.

Caboose’s scenes in the middle of act 2 almost had me vocalising my frustration! This scene is one of my biggest problems in the current show AND IT HAS NOT BEEN CHANGED!

First, Caboose tells Greaseball that Rusty is fast, and they plot as in the US Tour with Greaseball’s “Ohh that’s nasty, I like it!”. This conversation also gives us the existing line “Just cos I smile all the time, don’t mean I’m not into crime”. This is not news, this is not a reveal, and this Caboose has only been smiling in an evil, mean way. There’s been no pretense at Caboose being helpful or sweet, he’s been flat-out nasty from the beginning.

Then we have the Disco-tastic 1984 version of “Wide Smile” which repeated the “Just cos I smile all the time, don’t mean I’m not into crime” line, and included “Under the smiles, under the fun I’m public enemy number 1” - again, there’s not been any fun or smiles from this Caboose! Also they use the full 1984 “CB” lyrics including the CB radio references which were cut for the Broadway show in 1987 as too obscure!

Patrick Sullivan’s performance was extraordinary, hitting those falsetto notes, amazing energy and rhythm, a really enjoyable number. I don’t know if I should read significance into Electra not joining in the backing for the number, but it was only the components.

The problem is though this scene is a MASSIVE plot point. It should be the moment we learn that Caboose is a cheating back-stabbing bastard, but this has already been established. Also, there is a logical gap in this number - with Electra well aware of Caboose’s enjoyment of double-crossing, why on earth does Electra then choose Caboose as a race partner for the downhill final? Especially when surrounded by his components, any of which would be a suitable race partner. The simple solution, which I was hoping this workshop would consider, would be for Electra to be removed from this scene. Simply continue the song on from Caboose’s conversation with Greaseball, have Greaseball’s gang as the backing dancers rather than Electra’s components. Then, Electra is unaware of Caboose’s scheme, his choice of race partner makes sense. This would also remove a flabby feeling repeat of the material as different versions have been grafted together.

Race 3 - the Uphill Final - begins with Control announcing Greaseball and Pearl, Electra and Dinah, and Rusty and Caboose. This race has not had the extra “No Comeback” repetitions, but rather the normal spoken lines from each Engine including Rusty’s “Let’s hear it for Steam!”

No explanation is given as to how there are only three engines, since Control earlier quoted the 1992 London instructions “There are two heats, two qualifiers from each heat”. So what happened to the 2nd qualifier from Heat 2? Why did only Momma come through from that race?

Well, I can tell you why, it’s because Control’s lines are taken from the 1992 London, but the races are taken from the 2003 US Tour with the pre-recorded 3D races. Because the tour ran with only 4 Nationals including the British train, the races were run on the logic of two heats, and the winner from each would compete in the final, which should have consisted of two engines. But since Electra and Greaseball tied, they both went through to give us 3 engines in the final. But this story telling has been overlooked in this workshop.

The race was staged with Caboose literally picking up Rusty to make it clear he wasn’t going anywhere! The race music also included the inverted race melody, the descending phrase as used in Germany which always jars when used to the London versions. The Race music did include the “Wide Smile” motif. Rusty was thrown to the floor, injured, as Control shouts “Race Cancelled! Who did it? I didn’t do anything!” - again the 1992 London script.

The 1992 London show was the production which cut Caboose - which is particularly relevant in this part of the show, as without Caboose driving the story, the London show included material to patch over the holes. This material was then drafted into the UK Tour in 2004, to cover gaps where some of the David Yazbek contributions were removed, I believe. However the result is that there are two separate scenes which cover the same actions.

Firstly, the Caboose version is that Caboose has crashed Rusty. The original London staging in 1984 was one of the weaker points of the show, where a fairly illogical staging required all the racers to make it onto the bridge to be carried to the top level, mid-race. CB slowed Rusty to the point he missed the connection and the race was then cancelled due, I believe, to the fighting between Greaseball and Electra. This had Rusty challenge Greaseball with “That CB he never took off the brakes”, which is when Pearl realised that Greaseball and CB were in cahoots. The original version didn’t have Rusty injured apart from his pride, but gave us CB’s insane “10, 10 never again you’re no engine!”. CB’s gloating and insane pleasure at the damage he has caused is an essential part of his character arc. The German staging had Rusty crash and tumble down the bowl to land in a heap centre stage, where Greaseball and Pearl came by, with Pearl saying “I’ll go tell the Marshalls!” then as Greaseball pulls her away, she begins to realise she’s made mistakes.

Secondly, the No Caboose version, the London 1992 version, has to find another reason for Rusty to be out of the race. The Uphill final is cancelled by Control when it’s devolved into a fist fight on the bridge, Control didn’t see what happened so Greaseball and Electra jump on the chance to blame Rusty - “Rusty did it, he caused the wreck!” Greaseball then confesses “Shut it, I did it, he was good, he was fast” - without Caboose in the show, this comes as a surprise. The Marshalls have been wordlessly clearing everything up, Rusty then comes back to Greaseball with “They (the marshalls) say - “ “what do they say?” Greaseball then sics his gang on Rusty, to “make sure it won’t happen again”. The Gang then beat up Rusty (to the melody of “Wide Smile”) in order to bring him to the same, injured and dejected state, as if Caboose had been there.

These two separate scenes have been smashed together since the US Tour in 2003 gave the show major re-writes, and the story being told is flabby and confusing. If Rusty has been wrecked by Caboose, is already on his knees and his confidence destroyed, why do the gang need to beat him up directly? Unless the staging includes Marshalls directing the clean-up, who is Rusty talking about with “They say”? If Caboose is there, then how does the line “You told the Marshalls I drove into you!” make any sense?

The Workshop gives us the current version of this scene, with the 1992 London version of the show, including Greaseball and gang beating up Rusty. Then Pearl wanders in, sees Rusty wrecked on the floor, and realises things are going bad “This wasn’t how I wanted it, this wasn’t what I saw” (what had you seen, Pearl? We no longer have He Whistled At Me to specify her dreams and ambitions) Flat-top has his sympathetic line “Give it up Rusty, you’ll never beat them”, and Caboose has just left. Then we have a reprise of “Crazy” at a slow, reflective pace, as the badly injured Rusty picks himself up. This reflects back to Rusty’s naive hopeful attitude at the start of the show, contrasting his previous optimism with his sad current state. Then we hear the “Call Me Rusty” refrain on the mouth organ as standard. This reflects back to Rusty’s naive hopeful attitude at the start of the show, contrasting his previous optimism with his sad current state. Yes, the concept of Rusty’s confident introductory number being reprised in a slow, sad tone is exactly repeated in this scene.

Where we’d expect Right Place, Right Time, we have the Hoppers wander in and paraphrase the opening lines of the number, without any particular motivation for their presence, but the full number is omitted. This scene feels like it might be a compromise as the work in progress nature of the workshop, where this is a place-holder for a new version of the full number for the Hip Hoppers.

Rusty, alone and dejected, runs into the Starlight Sequence as normal, reflecting on how he’s “down and out”. The Starlight Sequence is always magnificent, but it was slightly soured after Control’s “Stop that Boring music!” comment during the overture, which is of course a preview of this scene. Mica Paris as Momma wasn’t quite comfortable with the vocal range of the song but at some moments opened up sounded glorious. There were also some slight lyric paraphrases such as “The Starlight Express is no more or less, I’m you, Rusty”, which doesn’t quite make sense, but I suspect was simply the nature of the workshop rather than a deliberate change. George Ure’s performance was stunning and so emotional, he really carried us on Rusty’s journey.

The Rusty and Dustin scene has some new music, using the same melody as Rusty’s monologue prior to the Starlight Sequence, the melody most characterised as the Coaches’ verse in “Call Me Rusty”. It’s a minor key, the music always suggests concern, worry, lack of confidence, so to use it for this scene felt off. The standard score uses “Belle’s Song” at this point, as that melody is connected with the Freight and Dustin as well as Belle.

Dinah’s Disco is re-worked to be a reprise of “I Got Me” which works well in this context. If “I Got Me” were moved from act 1 to replace “Girls’ Rolling Stock”, following “UNCOUPLED”, this reprise would work perfectly. Electra calls CB to his side with the “AC/DC” melody, the 7/4 time makes the short scene feel a bit awkward, but replacing the “Nobody Can Do It Like a Steam Train” melody makes sense when all references to “He Whistled At Me” have been cut. Electra and CB bargain for the price of CB’s help.

Control introduces the re-run of the Final Race, on the Downhill course. Again the score being used is snipped from the 2003 US Tour - the pre-race 4 has two versions, the original staging called for three finalists, the Broadway and later used four finalists. The beautiful, complex layered music was originally written for the six racers, then altered for eight. But then the US Tour version cut it back to six, rather than referring to the original score, the two vocal lines are simply left out leaving a gap in the music. Specifically the 1992 score had Bobo singing “Le jour du gloire est arrivé” (please pardon my french!) with Ashley singing “Gonna be hot, hotter than hot”. The alternative for that vocal part has Caboose singing “Just for me, I’m in this just for me” (or “Nur fuer Mich” in the German score) - but the workshop uses the Tour version which simply skips this vocal line. Once part that point the complex harmonies were gorgeously performed. While I love the “Rusty’s gonna race in the Final” moment in this number, it harks back so strongly to the original version of the Rap.

The Downhill Final was performed with a very witty side-comment from Control about “Sorry about the lights, use your imagination!” The race music was very much the 1984 original which was gorgeous! Control’s narration tells us the story, including Pearl being disconnected, and Rusty saves her - at which point the Crazy melody was incorporated in the race music, with the ensemble singing “Come on Rusty”. Immediately on winning, Rusty leaves with “I must find Pearl”, as usual.

One Rock’n’Roll Too Many was staged almost exactly as usual - in fact all that was missing was the kneepads! Contextually this was played the same as UK Tour / Germany, not like the 1992 London, which seems a shame. The only major difference (apart from the presence of Caboose) is that in London, the ensemble stayed onstage and witnessed the massive fall from grace of the major players in the game. I appreciate that practically, in staging the show, I am sure the ensemble are grateful for a couple of minutes backstage, but the story telling of including them as witnesses is important. Plus it gives the ensemble characters more time to establish their personalities. There’s no logical reason all the characters leave before the number, and come back at the end. Momma was struggling with the vocal range for the “Where’s Rusty gone?” section.

Pearl is introduced with the electric guitar playing the “He Whistled At Me” melody, but since neither version of her song appeared at the start of the show, her reprise that was the introduction to “I Do” has been cut. Which is super frustrating, because that little reprise was the only good addition with this dreadful song!

“I Do” is untouched, it’s still abysmal, with clunky, random, meaningless lyrics, poor melodic construction, long and repetitive. The lyrics scan very poorly to the music (“you think that noboDY would love you”), and the vocal ranges are very hard to sing, it’s fortunate the cast are so strong! They are genuinely adorable and you’re so happy that they’ve found each other, despite the music.

I have to admit, however, that with the changes to Pearl’s character, that she is given more time to think, the lyrics are not as contradictory as previously. It feels like Pearl, and to an extent Rusty, have been ret-conned to fit this song!

I am genuinely astonished that this song has been kept, I thought the one thing this workshop would be sure to give us was an improvement on the love song. It’s such a shame to have lost “Only He” - in any of its many variations - as the love song being a reprise of one half of the Starlight Sequence is an enormously important part of the story telling. The “Only You” melody speaks of discovery, completion, it’s the answer to the question, where the “Starlight Express” melody is the question.

Following “I Do”, Rusty and Pearl sing a reprise of “I Got Me”, and the “Well Done Rusty, King of the Track” is now set to the same melody, which is slowed, and jars with the dissonance. Then the reprise of the “Starlight Express” melody is as you’d expect, into Dinah’s “Greaseball you’re hurt!” - beautifully performed, and there isn’t the jarring sense of “No, honey, don’t go back to your abusive ex!” - which is possibly more of a negative statement since Dinah’s character is so inconsistent. Oliver Tompsett does have the most magnificent puppy-eyes pleading expression though, making it hard to resist forgiving his character!

Leading into Light at the end of the Tunnel, Mica Paris was again having difficulty singing the role written for a baritone! I had a moment of cognitive dissonance, given how there had been strong throw-backs to the 1984 version of the show, for the one line that was originally sung by Soul Queen PP Arnold as Belle, “The man who watched the pot and said, hey I got…” - for one moment being sung by Soul Queen Mica Paris! The final number bounced along, full of joy and energy as ever, with no changes from the norm. No megamix, just a play-out from the fantastic band.

#stexworkshop #starlight express #Scene by Scene analysis

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targsdaenerys · 7 years

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Wide Awake - CS EF Fanfic

Read it on Ao3!

Prologue

Chapter I

Summary: After Princess Emma’s step-sister, Regina, pricks her finger on a spinning wheel, she sends herself and the whole castle asleep and trapped for one hundred years. Emma, who is cursed to be resistant to any magic, ventures out in hopes to find her sister’s true love to kiss her awake. Fortunately, a new guard of her father, Killian Jones, discovers her need and together they search for help throughout the Enchanted Forest. Complications and confusing choices apply, but Emma is determined to awake her family and find her sister’s love. But what she may not be prepared for is love finding her.

Eighteen years later, the most anticipated day in the kingdom arrived.

Emma never thought it would be as frantic. Mostly every year on Regina’s birthday was - the monthly search for spinning wheels was much more thorough on the first born’s birth dates, just in case the spell was a trick or misinterpreted. Of course, since that day was the specific day, any type of needle or knife or prong of a fork were not to be seen. The kitchen was locked up, the food pre-prepared that morning when Regina slept.

Since Emma was not really wanted around any of her royal family, she helped the guards search the passageways and corridors. Because of her curse, Emma could have sworn off any type of magic her sister was given, as well as her mother and father, and was directed to stay clear away from them because of it. Including special family gatherings, she was directed to the farthest point of the room from them. It was usually a cold corner where the servants sweep the dust. So when she wasn’t absolutely needed, which was very spontaneous, Emma wandered where she was allowed in the unenhanced halls. She accompanied the guards on the weekly looks for spinning wheels most of the time, being an advantage to witches with magic.

So like every week, Emma stayed among the guards she knew so very well. They checked every room which was all so decorated to the point where it wasn't recognizable for Regina's birthday, before making their way to the north side. To Emma, she had mixed feelings about that tower; it had been long abandoned due to a peasant revolt, as her mother told her, the bricks collapsing from not being taken care of. The place was creepy to go in but brought out Emma's adventure side she loved to play with. No one really liked going there because of the eerie vibe, but it was a good as being the first section to analyze on the inspection list. After finding witches and dangerous sorcerers there she was begged by the servants and her family to not attend the check-ups anymore. For awhile Emma listened. She found enjoyment and talent is horseback riding.

But then an incident with magic happened. The guards discovered a conjurer in the east wing, and with a blast of magic, a guard was left without a leg or a job to feed his three children. Emma insisted on taking them into the castle for them to stay as assistants and for her to go along with the investigations. Her parents agreed to it learning their mistake.

As they arrived at the north side through the dark corridors, dark shadows appeared down the hall, with a few flaming torches.

“Assert defenses!” A Guard ordered. Emma’s eyebrows furrowed. They were usually the only Unit that searched the castle for spinning wheels. If perhaps the figures up ahead were a threat or magical, why would they be stupid enough to bring a torch when they knew this wing was the number one place to look? More so why would he or she need them?

“Your highness, We instruct you to stay back for your safety.” Emma turned around to face a Burkesphee, an elder guard nearing his retirement, at her heels. He gestured ahead. “What that is up ahead is a mystery on all of us, and we do not want the chance of losing both of the princesses on the same day.” internally, Emma was taken aback. No one was to dare not show hope for her sister’s curse being broken. She stood up two inches straighter and gave him a stern look in the eye through his helmet.

“Pardon me, Sir Burkesphee, but I have no intention of listening to a guards order that is more disrespectful than certain protection. I understand where you may be coming from, but almost no person is powerfully against me, magic or not. If you will excuse me, I am to see what this ruckus may be about.” turning back around, she marched through the middle of the group, and pass the head of the unit who was discussing a plan with his vice.

Her heels on the ground echoed, the shoes her mother insisted on Emma wearing in case of an unprepared meeting with an important being. She warned her to be prepared, because she may very well be meeting her husband today among the princes visiting to celebrate. A few murmurs behind her begged for her to retreat. Emma kept walking.

The mysterious figures started becoming not so mysterious. She counted four torches and two lanterns scattered within the pack. Human beings started taking form. Emma’s heart skipped a beat when she noticed a glow from a reflection off of a sword - she was able to stop magic, but not from someone getting impaled.

Knowing if anything would be out of place help was right behind her, Emma continued until seeing the first man that looked somewhat in charge. Now that she was awfully too close to this unknown group, Emma started to realize she was either in big trouble or none at all, based on the uniforms. Most of the men wore the identical sapphire vest that buttoned with gold up the front over white tunics. Each man had a sword, and although they were all in their sheaths, it made Emma feel uneasy. They did not look anything of who she had ever seen around the castle.

The man who looked most in charge faced his back towards her and had a different uniform than the rest with gold also fashion his shoulders and the jacket’s hems. She silently cleared her throat and ignored some stares she felt almost burning into her.

“Excuse me,” Emma started, the most grown up voice her seventeen-year-old self could bear. “I would like t -”

The man turned around, and suddenly Emma was not so uneasy because of the swords. The face of a younger man, not much older than her as Emma would imagine, came face to face to her, looking as taken aback as she. But instead of him being fazed due to a girl in front of him in the middle of an abandoned wing on a day of celebration, his eyes actually stole her breath.

It would make sense, actually, since his eyes were the color of the paint used to paint the ocean in the art hall of the castle; and water gives anyone the inability to breathe. They were both stern and soft at the same time, making Emma feel under a better, friendly protection than five seconds earlier. She found how to breathe again and recollected herself before apprehending anything else.

“I would like to be informed as to who exactly you are along with the purpose of your location.”

The man's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, making Emma take her eyes off of his for the first time since she saw him. Briskly, she took a recollection of his face. His eyebrows were dark and thick, which matched his hair that glinted in the torchlight. The high cheek bones and scruff complimented the healthy hollows in his cheeks and sharp jawline. He was handsome.

“Apologies, but lieutenants are not told to take orders from girls. I will answer the questions once I see the authority here is safe to do so.” These men must have been from her kingdom, if a lieutenant is not aware of Emma, and it brought her back to being uneasy with the company.

“Well, it matters on what intent you are ambitioning for because as Princess Emma of Misthaven, I assure you-you are both required to answer to me first and be directed to the King if your needs here have not been authorized.” At her statement, those eyebrows of his rose before relaxing, his pink lips turning into a grin. He looked down and took a step closer, which made Emma shuffle back just the same. Looking back up at him, Emma could barely keep a confident face.

“Pardon, Your Highness, I do have intentions here, but none to disrespect loyalty. I am Lieutenant Killian Jones, at your service.” he somehow took her hand within disregard to Emma and it was now aligned with his face, where he lowered his head to press his lips to it. Emma's eyes widen for a second before catching herself. Although her sister was planned to marry not yet a month after that day, Emma had not ever formerly met a man other than Graham, Regina’s future husband, and Neal, a Prince her parents banned after trying to take advantage of both Regina and Emma during a visit meant for a possible match with Emma. After him, no others were allowed to visit but Graham unless The king and queen thought it would be absolutely correct for one to do so.

Emma replaced her hand at her side as casual as possible, not really knowing how she was supposed to deal with it. Once again Emma regained herself to look as bold as she needed despite what her mind's thoughts raced about.

“Pleased for your assistance.” she started. That was the right thing to say, right? She thought so. “And what are your so called ‘intentions’, Lieutenant Jones?” the lieutenant’s arms crossed behind him.

“Why, surely your father ought to have alerted the guards. We are soldiers from a nearby kingdom - more so sailors, actually - but we were called for extra protection and investigations on the Princess Regina’s special day.” That made sense. Lieutenant Jones looked side to side and behind her, a hint of puzzle flickering in the way his eyes set. “May I ask, Princess Emma,” (she had never heard someone say her name as perfect as that was just said) “why exactly you are in these corridors alone? - in this section at all, actually. It's not the most ideal or safest place for a princess to spend a day of celebration.” with his concern, all of her princess confidence left her being, and suddenly Emma turned into a regular seventeen-year-old that had no sight of royal etiquette she was supposed to bring.

“Yeah, well, most of my life isn’t ideal for a princess. Checking the wings for spinning wheels is far better than sitting in a corner watching everything you want to be given to your sister.” her confession made the poor lieutenant more confused, but her princess demeanor swept back in at once. “My guard unit is just behind me, only out of sight. We were unable to identify your motives of the specimen from far off so I had decided to infatuate.”

“Ah, brave princess, I see.” the sailor smiled and Emma tried her best not to, but could not stop the heat going to her cheeks. “By any chance, is the unit accompanying you the Fifth? On my captain's list, it had stated we meet with them here.” He pointed behind him, where a man in a uniform that looked even more decked out in the gold hems and shoulders and collars stood, observing their conversation. Emma and he made eye contact, so she lifted the corners of her mouth and bowed her head.

“In your luck, yes, that is. But if you don't mind, may I see that list?” She needed authentication although Lieutenant Jones sounded very trustworthy.

“Of course, Your Highness.” with a bow of his head he walked over to his captain where they exchanged a few words. They returned back to where Emma stood.

“I introduce captain Nemmo, Princess.”

“Pleased to meet you, Captain,” Emma responded.

“Just as so, Your Highness. Here is the list you requested.” The captain handed her a folded paper that had her Kingdom’s symbol drawn on the given corner. It had certainly come from her father’s study. Glancing over it, she nodded.

“Thank you. I will warn my unit you come in peace.” she turned starting to do so before a shout came from the foreign unit’s end of the corridor.

“What the Hell?” it echoed. Emma’s gaze snapped over Lieutenant Jones’s shoulder where his own followed. It landed on guards crowding in front of an ancient open door with unearthly green light shining out from it. She brushed past the Lieutenant, placing a hand near his shoulder as a way to excuse herself. As she came closer, the sounds became louder. Something of a sense of the wind laughing and a sound one may think stars made as they sparkled. The sounds of magic.

A part of Emma's restricted magic gift was knowing when there was magic somewhere. Good or bad, it was hard to tell, but usually when the air got heavy unpleasantness followed. The already murky, dense breaths of the halls did not help her identify.

“Everyone, stay back.” She ordered, coming to the doorway. Skeptical glances followed her as she cleared the crowd. “If I need assistance, I’ll call it.” In the distance, Unit Five’s footsteps came forth down the hall. Emma ignored them and peered into the room behind the door.

The sight made her gasp a little herself. She forgave herself immediately because, in her kingdom, a figure hidden behind an ominous cloak spinning a glowing spinning wheel was not an everyday sight.

“Excuse me,” Emma started. Her face definitely was showing concern, but she kept her voice strong. “By order of royalty, I must ask you to remove the hood of your cloak,” iShe paused, not breathing. “Please.” The phantom - at least, that was the closest to describe the eeriness - stopped spinning abruptly, and Emma could almost feel the grin spreading across its face. Her hands started to tingle. She clasped them together.

“Princess!” Emma felt a presence behind her, but she stood still. “Bloody Hell…” the lieutenant, she recognized, explained.

“Lieutenant Jones, stand back. This is nothingIcan't handle.”

“Yes, Princess,” he stayed for another second before he came into her peripheral vision, going to the edge of the doorway, hidden just enough.

“Ah, princess I see.” The anatomy croaked. Emma slightly jumped. It raised its still hooded head. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this day, dearie...to meet you.”

Emma had realized it was mistaking her for her sister - which happened often. Although Regina was the one known for her beauty, Emma was right up with her. Despite her being her mother’s so-called “miracle”, a beautiful baby birthed healthy after years of failure, her reputation as the isolated member was looked down upon and she usually went unnoticed in indirect situations. She decided to play along.

“And what about me had you wait so, I gather, anxiously?”

“Why, who would not be so hurried to meet the Oh-So-Lovely Princess Regina?!” the cloaked thing sprung up at its exclamation, causing the torch light shine on the face under the hood. It scaled in-humanlike. Emma shuddered. Behind the scale- faced creature, the light illuminating from the spinning wheel flickered. Internally, Emma smiled. Her gift was getting to it.

“Touche, but, that can't be the only thing that told you to enter the castle before the others guests. Do tell me, what makes you so special?”

“Ah!” it exclaimed again. She jumped again, despite it being the second time. “The best gift should have an even greater delivery, don't you agree?” It presented the wheel, whose magic’s light was dying like a flame trapped in a glass. Emma almost felt guilty, even though she was sure it was nothing but more dangerous to her sister as an ordinary wheel would be.

“And what makes this gift any better than others I will be given on this day?”

“Oh, well if you see here, Highness…” it scurried over to the wheel and took its place on the stool next to it. “This wheel is a special wheel.” it started to wind the thread vigorously between its fingers. “It can spin even the poorest material,” it bent over the product, almost like it was analyzing it. “Into threads of gold.”

It was only then when aside from the green light, the gold thread added to the gleam of the room. Somehow, the cord stayed in its golden, magical form.

“Come, Princess Regina of Misthaven. Come feel this strand of gold and prove me right.” Part of Emma wanted to. The thought of being able to produce more wealth for her kingdom itself almost made her feet act before her mind, but Emma stopped herself. The gold would only turn to a thread if she touched it. And the owner of a spinning wheel that was a week’s distance from the kingdom was not to be trusted, nevermind inside this castle.

“I apologize, but this is too much of a gift. I don't even know your name. I have more gold than I'll ever need. Please, use it to care for your family.”

“No, dearie, this is for you. Highness, come, I have already made you a nice necklace. Let me put it on you.”

“No, I am alright without it. As I said, I have jewels of my own.” With that, the figure took three gaits that left Emma holding her breath.

“Now, you see, if I were talking to the real Princess Regina, she would have taken my offer.” it drawled out the ‘r’ which made Emma lock her knees to avoid collapsing from nervousness. “Which tells me this is not the princess, but rather someone who believes lying to the Dark One is something he may enjoy.” a hand appeared from the cloak. Emma knew from stories the maids would murmur about, he was famous for being the most merciless magician in all the realms. “I think not.”

His hand, as scaly and green as she saw of his face drew back. Emma became not so worried.

“I wouldn’t do that, Dark One.”

He did it anyway.

The Dark One flew back, crashing into the spinning wheel. His hood came off, revealing strands of hair that could only be described as the seaweed that grew in the ponds behind the castle.

Emma finally breathed once again. Any magic he would do to her would simply ricochet back to him.

“Guards!” Emma called, turning towards the door. When she turned back, expecting the Dark One to be there glowering, he had vanished. As told, soldiers cannonaded through the door that had shut amid their conversation. Emma paced out the chamber calmly with her head held high.

“Highness!” something touched her arm, causing Emma to halt. She looked up to meet the eyes of the lieutenant once again. They were ill at ease, more golden than blue in the firelight. “What the bloody Hell was that?”

Emma pursed her lips.

“The reason this whole damn kingdom has been terrified for the last twenty years.”

~*~*~

What had happened that morning was kept quiet in an attempt for everyone to stay as far away from the edge as they were already. After the incident, Emma was instructed to return to the main halls to avoid any collisions with a danger that may not be needed. The wheel was immediately burned.

So she sat in the back of the ladies’ activity room, where her sister was opening her presents. Rows of chairs filled with onlooking girls crowded in front of her, but she didn’t mind. Emma was happy for her sister. The following week was Regina’s coronation to become queen; it happened after every first borns’ twentieth birthday.

Gasps ignited whenever the wrapping of a gift was undone to reveal looking glasses, jewels, facial salves, so many things they had already had too much of. Regina presented each one just the same, though, releasing a spray of awe to brush over the crowd no matter how dull the contribution. Everyone wanted to be a princess. Everyone wanted to be Princess Regina.

Princess Emma; not so. She was the princess one would whisper about after seeing her run in the fields. Some would say her hair was too sun-bleached and imagined her feet were not as soft as the royal treatment should bring to them. The freckles on her face would be one too many and the gentle pink off her cheeks was seen un-princess-like. All of the outcomes of spending mornings and afternoons in her castle’s grassy meadows was Emma. She couldn't help much of it, though. There was only so much to do when she was limited to just the bare minimum of human interaction to avoid borderline insane.

Not that horse, Emma. Can’t you see its bronze shine? Get out, Emma, this straw will soil quicker than a blink with you here.

When Emma grew fond of riding, she was instructed to use the messengers’ stables. Those horses weren't gifted.

Again, her parents attempted to make it work, they attempted to make those stables just as nice as the others. But it didn’t give off the same glow. And that’s what Emma really wanted.

The pile of the gifts started to lower, farther and farther before there was one left. Their mother sat opposite of Regina, plastering on a smile that the three of them knew was fake. By this time, Regina's fingers were as numb and everyone's’ butts and the muscles around their mouths were sore. Regina picked up a red box, tied with a velvet ribbon. She nimbly untied it and drew the box open. Emma saw a small card flutter out the top and slide to the floor; it didn’t matter much, they didn't read them anyway.

Regina gasped frankly. Carefully, she raised a rose, completely covered in gold, from the case. Thrones stuck around the stem, but no one really paid attention to that.

Everyone but Emma.

At first, she was as awestruck as the rest. But she then caught a whiff of a perfume that could only be described as a heartthrob spell that the fumes cast down on them. It was then when Emma noticed the thorns; all except one, which stuck out at an odder angle than the others, a little thicker as well -

Regina adjusted her grip, the odd thorn disappearing behind her fingers. Suddenly, the rose hit the ground, slipped between Regina's fingers. Even from the back of the room, Emma saw a small tear of dark red drip from the tense fingers of Regina's hand. Regina's eyes, a second ago filled with real, pure apprehension widen into a wild glow that scared Emma more than the first sight of blood she's ever seen come from her sister. The rose clanged on the ground a moment before Regina collapsed; asleep. Almost as an echo, everyone around Emma followed. Asleep under the spell the kingdom had spent decades denying. The spell that would lead them all into a sleep of a century. All except for Emma.

And she needed to fix it.

#cs ff #wide awake #cs #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #emma swan #killian jones #cs au ff #cs ff au #cs ef ff #captain duckling #Lieutenant Jones #Princess emma #liam jones #cs enchanted forest

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seansaboutacity · 5 years

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#2 collaboration - Eileen

It’s a great pleasure for me to collaborate with Eileen Gbagbo. Eileen’s been a wonderful friend that I’ve got to know since first year, and ever since she’s inspired me to be creative and write poetry, whilst maintaining a close interest in social justice issues.

I asked Eileen to collaborate with me and write a poem about the theme of ‘desire’.

So without further ado, here is Eileen’s poem followed by discussion:

East London nights

Last night the Thames flooded And the underground broke The sky looked like an iPhone on power saving mode My room, an influencer’s Friday night. We drank sangria and sung fuck Boris Two times and louder for the people at the back - Ha, we were going to hell.

Buttons flung off in iambs Our tongues danced in trochees And thus began our descent. One thousand and one nights of seven sensual sins Feeding on insatiable desire, uncontrollable explosion, excessive pursuit of the erogenous with sloth like strokes your personal became my prerogative shea butter breasts for your indulgence we came to the flames like Icarus – pray for us, that was devilish.

Comments

My first impression of the poem is a hedonistic, pleasure-seeking vibe. How do you relate this with your ideas of desire?

Desire is such a primal thing and it manifests itself in lust, jealousy etc. So when I was thinking about this poem, it reminded me of Dante’s seven steps to hell and so just took it to the extreme.

Straight off the bat, you use the imagery of the Thames. It’s a funny coincidence that I also mention the Thames in my poem - before I even saw yours. What did you intend by using the Thames as imagery?

Haha yeah, when I read yours, I got so excited by the Thames imagery! There are many iconic things about London to tourists, but for the locals, we’ve got the Thames - which is great. It’s a source of regional pride even though its quite possibly one of the most unstable rivers in the UK. And so, using the Thames was to root down the sense of place but also set the feel of the poem as quite messy.

I feel like I’m in the scene when I read your poem - the rowdiness, drunkenness, chaos. What do you think poetry can do to capture the experience of being somewhere? Are there limits to this?

This is quite an interesting question. Because my favourite poems through history have been used as a form of resistance, and they have endured and are still relevant today because of the intricate ability to abstract individuality and create consonance between the subject(s) and reader of the poems. For example, Pablo Neruda in his later political poetry does this so well. But there are also limits. Language does have boundaries unfortunately and so it can never be truly universal.

I love the juxtaposition between swearing and drawing on ‘high culture’ like Icarus - it’s rude, in your face but flows. It’s like your breaking down distinctions between high and low culture - anyone’s welcome in poetry. What do you think about that?

There’s something seductive about ‘high culture’ which I think is quite interesting. It’s almost like in Hollywood movies when everyone’s attracted to the British guy that speaks like the queen and uses unnecessary posh lexicon. But it’s funny that London actually invites you to both simultaneously. Take LSE for example, you have some of the world’s most brilliant minds interacting with each other, dissecting complex theories, but on a Wednesday night, we go to Zoo. And so, poetry that doesn’t encompass all of that is quite reductive.

My poem on the theme of ‘desire’:

waterloo bridge, after sunset

I think I'm going to fly why else do my legs feel like wings better yet birds unfurling flapping in the gusts of wind in the afternoon we played with the plain ignorance of friends under the table the same legs had whispered secrets told stories folded flipped over like chopsticks dividing dishes into bites of food

look at the Thames at dusk the water looks oily and slick like the collar of your leather jacket but you are more slick my oil that greases wheels no abandons them like stabilisers on a child's bicycle

do you know how I’ve longed for this for longer nights my days spent chasing faraway sights or snatches of air now my wind you could take me away roll me into tumbleweed but one cleansed of dust swept up from the past

so take me away dark waters you fill me as we cross into Waterloo the sun replaced by the twilight blue

let strange things come out to play at night

Comments

First of all, I love your poem! I love the use of both natural and quite industrial imagery. What did you intend with this?

Thank you! I like to use both natural and industrial imagery because I think London is made up of both - you can see big skyscrapers right next to residential areas or green space, which makes London so unique as a mix of influences.

I think ultimately London’s messy that way - London’s really a big town which swallowed up surrounding areas in an unplanned way, so different parts of London still retain their original character.

Your poem on desire is so different from mine, what was your interpretation of the theme, and what inspired this reaction? And also, the imagery of Waterloo bridge… I don't think I've ever seen it that calm before, but you also transported me into that world. Why did you use perhaps a not so popular image of Waterloo bridge?

I think desire is a very personal experience for me. But I wanted to explore the contradiction of having such intimate and sensitive feelings shared with someone else, and it removes the distance and detachment we sometimes feel from others.

Waterloo bridge served firstly as a physical reminder that the narrator in the poem is crossing boundaries, and for him it’s an exhilarating experience. I think I’m trying to reclaim some personal identity from how anonymising living in London can feel. Waterloo bridge is crossed by hundreds if not thousands of commuters everyday who stay strangers to us living their own lives. Being able to narrate a personal story means resisting that anonymity, and how it can whitewash our experiences into something dull and functional. But there’s also some vulnerability, because the anonymity can feel overwhelming and drowning.

I didn’t notice the calmness actually - that wasn’t intended. But thinking about it that way, I think I wanted the poem to be centred on the narrator’s experiences - so perhaps the exterior calmness contrasted with how wild his inner emotions were.

General comments

Sean asking questions for Eileen:

We first met each other, I think, in our political theory class. There’s an idea generally in social sciences that we can’t be subjective, but Plato and other theorists regularly use metaphoric analogies like Plato’s cave. What do you think about the distinction between objective and subjective?

I think trying to achieve objectivity is so hard and not worth it. The human experience is too varied to try and form some order to truth or justice etc. This really goes back to the production of knowledge which is hierarchical and colonial and so even with something that we claim to be universally true like ‘Shakespeare is the greatest English writer of all time’, is actually enforced by the powerful. So personally, I think we must do more to celebrate the individual rather than seeking this optimal collective objectiveness. Because by doing so, we don’t run the risk of erasing histories and identities in favour of one which is no more universal than the other. I guess that’s why I like poetry as a medium because it gives you the freedom to do both in such an intricate way.

I’ve also written a piece for Black History Month for the Beaver - which you did an amazing job editing. I wrote about the intersection between race and sexuality, using the film Moonlight to help illuminate my ideas. What are your thoughts on the intersection between gender, race and sexuality?

I absolutely loved your piece! It was one of the best reviews and commentary on the film I've read. I think I should ask you this question, because nothing I could say would be as nuanced as what you wrote.

I had a discussion with friends about ‘when do become a man/woman’. I had initially thought that it was a combination of physical and societal factors, ie you go through puberty and you are now considered a woman, or you have certain mannerisms which are gendered as feminine. But actually, that's still quite binary and not universal at all. So, I’m still learning more about these intersections.

Sometimes I’ve found it hard to connect my cultural interests with my political interests - I could watch a really interesting movie which comments on society like Moonlight, but find it hard to make a difference in the real world afterwards. What do you think about doing social activism in cultural interests?

Me too! Social activism is quite fulfilling personally. Especially if it is an issue that is close to home, but you find yourself in the privileged position to offer help. And this can take various forms including protesting, writing think pieces, mentoring, to name a few. But I think we need to tread carefully and evaluate the sentiments behind our convictions to go ahead with social activism in cultural interests. Or else, we run the risk of becoming compassion fatigued, in which we are outraged by an issue because its close to home or we can empathise, and then we pursue activism only to pat ourselves on the back or to make us feel better. I think that is quite dangerous and unsustainable really.

You write poetry yourself, and you showed me through your work that you can be creative, but also passionate and political about what you write. What’s the next step for you with poetry or creative writing?

Thank you! Your poetry is incredible too. For me, I want to perform more. But in terms of writing, I am experimenting with poetry from the Ghana & the Volta region. So using more Ewe and incorporating more historical knowledge into poetry. I’m really excited!

Eileen’s questions for Sean:

When we first spoke about this project, you mentioned ‘sense of place’. What do you love about London and why did you want to capture that?

My first answer is a cynical one. I love London because I don’t know anything else. I’ve grown up in London from a really small age and I’ve studied at uni here for two years. Now I’m leaving London to study abroad, even though I know I’m coming back, I feel emotional and feel like this is the end of a chapter for me.

My friends have really helped to make my experience in London. The crucial thing is that they chose to be my friends, and so stay there with me through thick and thin. I’ve been through difficult times at uni, navigating and generally trying to ‘adult’. But it’s been so comforting to know that my friends are there - and I could never express sufficiently enough how grateful I am for that.

Maybe this poetry project is a nice leaving gift for London, and for my friends. It’s really my way of saying goodbye. I hope you enjoy!

In the creative field, there is a lot of talk about representation. What are your thoughts on this, and where do you think poetry can fit in?

I think representation is so important. I think there has to be representation everywhere - on screen, but also decision-makers and people at the top. I think there has to be a whole cultural shift where we have everyone’s stories being told and represented, so audiences can see themselves and feel included in the things they see.

With that said, I think there’s a limit. I think discussion about representation can make us ignore wider structural change that we should see in society. If we limit discussion of social change to cultural issues, then we could construct an us v them dynamic, which is counter-intuitive to the cause of social diversity if we imagine our differences as rooted in fixed or essential characteristics. When I think about social problems, I try to find a common-denominator solution - what would make everyone happy? And I think the case for representation is that it would help to lift up under-represented social groups onto an equitable level with traditionally over-represented groups. I recognise this approach might seem reductive and smooth over historic social divisions which continue to disadvantage minority groups. But we should agree on one thing - diversity is the future, so the challenge and the opportunity now is to figure out how to harness it, so that everyone feels like they belong in society.

Poetry’s seeing a revival. I’m excited about getting more involved in it. I think friends like you and who I’ve collaborated with have really helped to boost my confidence and make me think seriously about doing poetry more in the future. I don’t think my story’s been told before, and that’s really sad if people from similar ethnic or cultural backgrounds as me are funnelled into careers their parents want them to do without really exploring alternative creative stuff. So I’m happy to just show up and speak up. And things happen if they will. It reminds me of a quote from my favourite book called ‘The Alchemist’ by Paulo Coelho - if you want something, the world conspires to help you get it.

I would love to hear more about your thoughts on the intersection between race, gender and sexuality?

That’s a really big question!

I think conversations about it relate with intersectionality. It’s so important to keep highlighting intersectionality, how inter-connected disadvantages or social groups can be.

But I think there’s a chance to restore agency to individuals who share minority status in multiple categories. I think sometimes social categories can be reductive, like figuring out how oppressed you are becomes this social arithmetic.

But we should remind ourselves that these terms are nominal anyway - they’re socially constructed, to sound like a broken record. So while we should be aware of different ways we can socially relate with others, we shouldn’t feel held back by these terms either from stopping us from doing what we want to do in life. The danger is that if we define ourselves solely by these labels, we put ourselves in boxes and fix ourselves, allowing these labels to become a self-fulfilling prophecy if we perform to their expectations.

I think we should feel empowered by our social identities. We should balance two needs fulfilled by them - to feel solidarity with people with similar grievances, but to build the emotional resilience to be ourselves and resist conforming with others.

But specifically about sexuality? I think I’ve been interested in sexuality because it crosses the public/private dichotomy, the interior/exterior dichotomy which many of our social institutions are built on. Sexuality is subversive, radical and it can be transformative - it has the potential to be a creative and productive force in society if we relaxed our attitudes towards it.

For me, sexuality is like a Mobius strip. You walk along it long enough and you eventually talk about other issues, like politics, family or the economy. Sex is constructive of many discourses of power. And power runs through everything.

I’m so excited about your writing journey! Where did it begin and where are you hoping to take it to next?

Thank you!

It began really when I was a small child in primary school. I was really shy growing up and I would read a lot of books. As a child, I even wanted to grow up and become an author. I didn’t write poems but I wrote short stories and even a novel which wasn’t any good but was nice trying to write.

I don’t know where I’ll go with my writing! The most challenging but most exciting part of writing is that I pull a lot of it from my life experiences. I feel like the more I test myself with life experiences and learn who I am from them, the more I have to say in my writing. And that annoys me because I get bored of writing and feel like I run out of things to say, but it excites me because it tells me to get out in the world more and explore.

Put it this way - life is a journey, and writing is just a way of putting my experiences on the road on paper. I’ve got a long way to go, but it definitely feels like I’m getting there.

#collaboration #desire

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