#Indeed do that and lifted me from the financial guilt of actually spending the money

[mona-liar]

My goal for coming year is to stop externalising specific descision-making tasks to my mother/wait for her approval on matters in order to stop feeling bad about it. The crux of the matter is that I do not think there will be that many decisions this applies to once I've moved.

#Case in point: I know my education is worth paying for a good italian class. But it costs more than I expected. #So I didnt sign up immediately and first told my mom about how it was much more expensive than expected but I know and intend to sign-up #For the class. But it wasn't until she vehemently aggreed and pushed me to do so that it internally clicked for me that yes I should #Indeed do that and lifted me from the financial guilt of actually spending the money #Like I'm in my mid-20's I should know better than to burden her with making such decisions *for* me in a certain sense

[artificialqueens]

Into Your Arms ( Sashea AU) - wordsmithmaybe

A/N: Hello hello hello :) This is not a lesbian AU but I hope you like it anyway x

I used she and he depending on whether they are in or out of drag. 

Almost 6K words!!!

enjoy my lovelies x 

“it’ll be fun, come on!” Aja, a legendary New York queen, and one of Sasha’s close friends, insists.

As she continues her blabbering about the biggest white party in Brooklyn, Sasha wonders how he’s going to get out of this situation.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends or go to clubs, but between his nightly drag performances and his day job as a graphic designer, he needs a break this weekend.

Going to a random party at 1AM doesn’t seem as exciting when you’re sleep deprived, and stressed.

But Aja has a way with words that in half an hour Sasha finds himself getting ready, running around his room trying to put a white outfit together.

He huffs and puffs and sighs, because he still doesn’t want to go but now there is no stepping back. The other queen just laughs as she Snapchats her friend’s troubles.

Aja was right.

The party is indeed “lit” as she eloquently described earlier, Sasha can’t deny.

But that doesn’t mean she’s enjoying herself.

After a couple of drinks and many conversations, she begins to feel bored and tired. The small amount of alcohol she consumed is already giving her a minor, but annoying headache.

She sits in a corner, and goes on her phone, suddenly double tapping photos of people she barely knows sounds more meaningful than socialising with the ones around her.

She looks up for a bit only to witness Aja’s third (maybe fourth) impromptu lip sync on the tiny stage.

She can tell her friend is drunk, but at least she’s having a good time, unlike Sasha.

Sasha doesn’t want to be a buzz killer, but her anxiety and exhaustion are both getting the best of her. All she wants to do is be in bed; her phone no longer distracting her from the way she’s feeling physically, and emotionally.

She gets up, and looks around for Aja, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She sighs.

Aja is drunk, which means finding her is going to be tricky, and Sasha is not in the mood.

She turns around and spots Aquaria, one of their drag friends, she asks her if she’s seen Aja.

“Your girl just left with someone,” Aquaria smirks, “He’s really hot, you should’ve seen him.”

Sasha just rolls her eyes, “Looks like she bailed on me for dick,”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Aquaria giggles before giving Sasha a quick shoulder squeeze and walking away to talk to some other people.

Sasha decides to order an uber since that seems like the fastest way to get home. She may be short on money, but she’s too tired to worry about her financial state now.

As she’s about to go to the app on her phone, someone falls into her arms.

Literally.

She drops her phone in the process, shocked to see a drunk drag queen just clinging to her.

It’s obvious that she’s extremely intoxicated.

Sasha sighs. Just another thing to ruin her night.

She lifts the person’s head a bit from her shoulder and looks at the half sleepy face.

Sasha has never been one to obsess over good looking people, but even under the club’s dim neon lighting, she can see how gorgeous this stranger is.

And for a moment, she feels nervous.

But when she remembers that the other queen is very out of it, she’s no longer thinking about her plump lips, perfect nose, and glowing dark skin.

Instead she awkwardly sits down on a couch, and make the person attached to her body, lay down next to her.

She grabs her phone, and curses when she notices that the screen is kind of broken.

She hasn’t even officially met this drunk, and she’s already pissed at her.

She gets up, deciding to go home.

Fuck this, she hisses.

It’s not her responsibility, nor her job to take care of this random human.

But she only takes one step forward before guilt takes her right back to that couch.

She realises something bad might happen to this person, and despite her personal feelings of resentment, she knows that she has to take care of her.

But the person doesn’t seem to have her wallet or phone, and she has passed out.

Sasha tries shaking her awake, but it doesn’t work, so she just sits there, biting her bottom lip in anger.

The party seems to be cooling down, but the person isn’t waking up.

Sasha doesn’t know what to do.

There is no way she could drag her anywhere in this state.

Plus, she doesn’t think it’s ethical or right to take her anywhere while she is unconscious, is it?

No one in the party seems to recognise the drunk queen, and Sasha is at the verge of giving up.

After a few minutes, she leans back against the couch, putting one arm protectively around the stranger, and just like that, she drifts away.

Only to be woken up by the bartender when the club is closing.

“I’m sorry, but you two have to leave.” He says, smiling apologetically.

Sasha sighs, “I don’t really know this person, and I don’t want to leave her like this.” She confesses.

“Your best bet at this point is to get a cab, and just take her home with you. Maybe they’ll finally wake up.” The bartender suggests, “or you can just leave her outside if you’re Satan.” Even though he laughs, Sasha doesn’t take it as a joke.

“I’ll need another tequila shot to deal with this,” Sasha says, sighing.

“The bar is closed, but I got you,” the bartender winks.

She takes her shot, and he helps her get an uber and drag the sleeping stranger into it.

All the way back to her place, Sasha keeps hoping she would wake up, but she doesn’t.

To her annoyance, the uber driver is singing along ever so quietly to every song that comes on the radio.

Sasha puts her headphones on, and plays her own music, but then the driver decides it’s time to start a conversation.

“Your boyfriend is going to have a horrible headache tomorrow,” he cackles too loud for her ears, and she just fakes a smile and nods.

It would take too much effort to explain the entire situation.

When they get to her place, the stranger is half conscious.

She is still drunk, but she manages to walk upstairs with Sasha hanging onto her.

“Are you going to fuck me?” She whispers when Sasha puts her to sleep on the sofa in her living room.

Sasha just rolls her eyes.

The stranger reaches over and grabs Sasha’s face.

“I think you’re cute. It’s okay, you can fuck me.” She giggles, her breath reeking with alcohol.

Sasha manages to set herself free, and just simply looks down on her as she just lays there in her bedazzled black leotard, wavy purple her, full makeup face, and the highest platform heels.

She is a pretty drag queen, Sasha has to admit.

But the thought of even attempting to take advantage of her doesn’t cross her mind.

She removes her heels, and throws a blanket on her.

“Don’t kill me in my sleep,” She jokes, mostly under her breath as the other queen has already fallen asleep.

She goes back to her room, and after getting out of drag, he finally falls asleep.

Five hours later, he’s woken up by someone talking.

He opens his eyes, and quickly remembers the event of last night.

He gets up, and leaves his bedroom only to see the stranger from last night all sat up, his wig is off, and he’s on the phone with someone.

“I don’t know girl, he’s asleep,” he says, “I’ll send you my location on whatsapp, just come pick me up please.”

Sasha just watches. For the first time he is seeing this person fully conscious.

“Geez, Pierre. I don’t know if we fucked. I don’t think we did, but I don’t want to think about it now. Bye.” He says before hanging up.

Sasha clears his throat on purpose as he awkwardly stands there waiting for the other guy to look up.

He finally does.

“Shit, you’re up.” He quickly says standing up, “I’m so sorry for whatever happened last night, my friend will be here in ten minutes to pick me up.”

Seeing how frustrated he seems, Sasha just smiles, “It’s fine, relax.” He adds.

Sasha’s words seem to have relaxed him a bit as he just nods, “I’m Shea by the way.”

Shea.

A very unusual name that Sasha has never hears before, but somehow he already likes the sound of it.

“I’m Sasha,” he introduces, “And just so you know, we didn’t sleep with each other. Or kissed. Or did anything.”

Shea just lets out an awkward nervous laughter, “would you mind telling me how I ended up here? I honestly can’t remember anything from last night.”

“Well, you quite literally fell into my arms, and then passed out.” Sasha explains, sitting on the sofa, “It’s okay, you can sit down and wait for your friend. I’m not gonna get mad.” He smiles, trying not to embarrass Shea even more. He can see he seems uneasy.

Shea sits down, and buries his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, that’s so not like me.”

“It looked like you were alone, and I couldn’t find your phone, so I just brought you home, because I didn’t want anything bad happening if I just left you like that,” Sasha explains, “By the way, where was your phone?”

Shea looks at him, and grins, “in my wig cap. Drunk me probably didn’t want to lose her phone.”

Sasha can’t help but giggle, “that’s a smart move.”

There is an awkward silence. Sasha can’t help but admire the sheepish smile on Shea’s face.

He comes to the realisation again that Shea is actually very good looking even with just a wig cap on, and all that messy hangover makeup all over his face.

“Thank you,” Shea finally breaks the silence, “Honestly thank you so much for taking care of me like that. God knows what would’ve happened if it were someone else.”

Sasha just smiles. He is surprised that Shea quickly trusted him. He expected him to at least question his intention. But instead, he believed what he told him right away.

Shea’s phone buzzes, and he gets up after checking the text he received.

“My friend is down stairs,” he announce.

Sasha doesn’t know why, but he feels a tiny bit sad that this random meet up is about to be over. He doesn’t want it to be over.

“Listen, can I please invite you out for lunch or something? Just to make up for whatever trouble I caused you last night.” Shea offers.

Sasha’s immediate body response was to say “yes please” but he remembers his manners, “honestly it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

Shea’s face quickly changes “Shit, sorry. That probably sounds like I’m asking you out. I promise it’s nothing like that.”

Sasha feels a sudden wave of disappointment take over. Why did he have to ruin this? Maybe he was hoping Shea would ask him out.

“I have a boyfriend, I swear. I just think maybe we can be friends?“Shea quickly corrects himself.

Of course Shea has a boyfriend. The good ones are always taken. He sighs internally, but he still doesn’t want to waste an opportunity to spend time with him. Even as friends.

“Alright Shea, if you want to be my friend so badly, I guess I’ll have to let it happen.” He teases, jokingly, grinning.

Shea just rolls his eyes, and smiles, “We are definitely getting along.”

After exchanging phone numbers, they agree to meet the next day at one of Shea’s favourite brunch places.

Sasha doesn’t understand why he feels nervous as he gets ready.

He’s already met Shea. He’s seen him drunk. There should be nothing to worry about, and yet his heart still beats faster than usual as he picks his outfit and wonders what they’ll talk about.

Something about Shea really drew him in. He is still trying to figure it out, but it’s like his energy matched perfectly with Shea.

After trying way too many outfits, he ends up wearing his usual black turtleneck shirt and skinny dark jeans, with the only colour on him being his red glasses.

Sasha is so nervous that he ends up arriving half an hour early and just waiting for Shea outside, using his free time to text and check social media.

He doesn’t notice Shea’s presence until Shea’s taps him on the shoulder.

He quickly jumps, dropping his phone. Again.

Thar phone had been through way too much.

He looks up quickly, meeting Shea’s eyes. He is suddenly too embarrassed to say or do anything.

“Sorry about your phone.” Shea says with a smile on his face. He leans down in order to grab Sasha’s phone for him. That’s when Sasha wakes up, and quickly kneels down at the same time as Shea.

They reach for the phone simultaneously, causing their hands to touch.

Sasha swears he feels everything around them stop as he looks up to meet Shea’s eyes, but then it hits him how silly his dramatic emotions are, so he quickly grabs the phone and gets up.

“Don’t worry about my phone, it’ll survive.” He says with an awkward smile, wiping his screen.

Shea seems so relaxed, Sasha notices. He just smirks back at him, and nods.

They go into the restaurant, and Sasha is terrified.

He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly very antisocial and incapable of just forming normal human sentences.

But when Shea shows him a random, but hilarious meme on his phone, Sasha feels a bit less stressed.

Slowly, as the conversation builds up, Sasha finds the courage to be himself.

“So tell me more about your drag persona!!” Shea asks excitedly taking a bite from his avocado toast.

Sasha grins. They’ve been talking about drag culture and queer history for what seemed like forever, and Sasha is realising he doesn’t mind it at all.

“Well, Sasha Velour is a lesbian feminist who likes art and hates being called pretty,” She explains, “So basically just an artsy white girl that everyone hated in college,”

Shea laughs, “I would’ve liked her in college.”

“What about your persona?” Sasha asks.

“Shea Coulee is equal parts bourgie and banji. She can be nice, but if you try her, you dead.” Shea says.

Sasha raises an eyebrow jokingly, “Better be careful around her then.”

Shea leans forward and beams, “Don’t worry, she likes you already.”

The two end up talking so much that by noon, they both feel like they’ve known each other for years.

After the brunch, they walk endlessly in town, discussing even more random topics.

Sasha can’t help but feel so impressed by Shea’s academic records. Having graduated from Juilliard School on a scholarship, Shea then went on to earn an MFA in fashion design all the way in London before coming back and starting her drag career as well as a fashion line that he marketed alone on social media. And he’s only 28. Two years younger than him.

“I barely survived three years studying graphic design,” Sasha has expressed, “I don’t know how you did all of that.”

Shea just giggles, “I come from a military home. My dad spent most of his life at the army. I was raised to excel at everything. I had no choice.”

Even though he’s smiling, Sasha can sense his tone change when talking about his family.

And not in a good way.

“What does your family think of-” Sasha starts off before quickly cutting himself off, “Fuck, I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry.”

But Shea doesn’t seem to be bothered by his unfinished question, “think of my sexuality? My drag?”

Sasha just nods.

“Well, they’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m gay, but it’s the drag that’s hard for them to accept.” Shea admits, his face suddenly no longer glowing under the sunshine.

Sasha feels horrible, but he doesn’t say anything.

“What about you?” Shea asks, maybe trying to change the topic.

“I’m an only child, and my mom died a long time ago when I was 8 years old. So it’s always just been me and my dad. And he’s, well, he’s actually cool with everything that I do.” Sasha confesses.

Shea smiles the warmest smile that Sasha has ever seen, “I’m glad he is.”

——————–

Weeks pass by, and Sasha makes sure to meet up with Shea every single day. If not every day, then they’ll text and FaceTime or at least tag each other in memes.

Point is, they become so inseparable in such a short amount of time that Sasha can’t even wrap his head around it.

He doesn’t tell anyone. Not his friends. Not his father.

He keeps Shea as his little secret. His favourite secret that he can cherish and enjoy without having the opinions of other people ruin it.

Because they will ruin it if they find out.

How will they not protest when Shea has a boyfriend?

He has a boyfriend of two years, and he doesn’t seem to let him go any time soon.

Sasha is very aware of that, but he’s also aware of how happy he feels when he’s with Shea. How young and powerful and beautiful he feels around him.

This stranger that quickly changed his life, and made him chase the slightest hope, the lowest possibility.

That maybe. Just maybe, they will somehow find a way.

Nothing has happened, and Sasha’s logical side tells him nothing will ever happen.

They are just friends.

Two people who connected.

They picked each other, and decided that they would do things together and talk about stuff.

Nothing wrong with that, Sasha tries to convince himself.

Shea rarely mentions his boyfriend.

Sometimes, Sasha feels like he’s using him as an escape from the relationship, but then Shea says something funny or strange, and Sasha is smitten all over again.

“Is it weird to call you my best friend when I’ve only known you for three months?” Shea has once questioned, as they ate ice cream and watched an episode of the X-Files.

Sasha remembers having no answer, to which Shea just shrugs and says, “Eh, I think it’s not weird at all. Hey, can we watch another episode?”

Shea is so random and spontaneous. Maybe his spontaneity is the reason why they decide to dress in drag and go to a ‘straight bar’.

“Let’s see how many straight guys we get to fool,” Shea smirks as they help each other pick the ‘fishiest outfits’.

Of course no one will be fooled.

When they enter the bar, the atmosphere suddenly changes as every pair of eyes looks then up and down.

Two glamazonian bitches with faces beat to the gods.

The straights are confused, but they mostly just ignore them.

Shea isn’t impressed.

“How come they’re not gushing all over us?” She pouts.

“I told you not to overdo it with this ugly ass blue eyeshadow,” Sasha jokes, chuckling.

Shea glares at her, taking a sip from her drink before shoving her gently and giggling.

“This place is boring anyway. Let’s go somewhere where we can be appreciated.” Shea says as she gets up and grabs her purse.

Sasha remembers having this sudden feeling that life is perfect in that moment as she joins Shea and walks towards the exit.

They stand outside laughing and recounting the dull events of the night as they share a joint.

Everything seems so peaceful.

Sasha leans against the alleyway wall and closes her eyes, smiling when she’s finally hit by euphoria.

She opens her eyes only to witness Shea staring at her with the most dreamy gaze she’s ever seen.

And in the jumble of the moment, she suddenly doesn’t mind grabbing and kissing her.

And that’s what she does.

Kissing Shea doesn’t feel magical, Sasha realises.

Because magic is an overrated word.

Instead.

Kissing her feels home.

It feels warm and fuzzy and soothing.

It feels right.

As Shea wraps her arms around Sasha’s neck, bringing her closer, the blonde queen wants nothing else from the world but for it to stop.

But then, something happens.

The world doesn’t stop.

Instead, the world pushes them to the wall so aggressively that Sasha’s head starts spinning.

The world punches them both till they bleed, and the world kicks the shit out of them as they scream.

Sasha can barely see in the blur of the moment, but the world seems to be a group of people.

Or devils.

What’s the difference anyway?

For a split second, Sasha wonders if this is payback for feeling happy.

Maybe that’s how the world works to balance itself out.

If you’re too happy, you have to suffer, because nothing is free.

One second, they are having the time of their lives.

The next, they are lying on the ground, begging whoever is beating them to stop.

But they won’t stop.

They keep their hits and knocks until Sasha can no longer scream, and words are suddenly a foreign concept in her foggy brain.

Is that how death feels like? She wonders before closing her eyes.

The last thing she does is use the remaining bit of her energy to hold Shea’s bloody hand on the dirty ground.

She doesn’t recall what happens next.

Sirens.

Lights.

Random dreams and nightmares.

Hospital smells.

Sasha hates hospital smells.

But he’s not in a hospital.

He’s in a yellow field.

The sky is purple.

And he can see Shea running away.

He tries to stop him.

But his hands are tied to something.

He looks down, and it’s a hospital bed.

Then, he dazes off again.

And again.

And again.

He doesn’t recall how long it takes before he finally regains full consciousness.

The doctor says it’s been 4 days, but Sasha believes it’s more like four weeks.

His dad is there.

All he can think about is how scared his father must have been.

“I’m sorry,” he tries to say but only a whisper escapes his dry lips.

His dad just holds his hand and gently shushes him.

He realises that his entire body is hurting. They tell him he’s lucky, because nothing is severely broken.

Just a twisted angle and a fractured left arm.

His art arm.

His heart hurts even more.

Not in the physical sense.

He is still trying to remember what happened.

He can only recall the sound of shoes hitting his sides, and Shea’s.

Shea.

He just wants to know if he’s okay.

But everyone is ignoring the question. Or just giving him standard answers like ‘don’t worry, everything is going to be fine’.

The police come over to take a statement, but it’s pointless because he doesn’t remember much. There were no witnesses or surveillance cameras. So Sasha makes peace with the fact that they might never catch them. Despite how frustrating that it, he finds himself caring about one person: Shea. And one thing: his safety.

Aja visits. He cries a lot, and curses the crap out of whoever did it.

More friends come to see him, but his mind can only think of Shea.

He finally breaks down, and tries to leave his bed.

That’s when his dad looks him in the eyes, “I swear to you, he is fine. Almost in the same state as you are, but in another room.”

Well, if they’re in the same state, that means he’s not fine. It means he’s in as much pain as Sasha.

And that’s not 'fine’.

“You can see him in a couple days, I’ll make sure of that. But for now, you need to focus on recovery.” The doctor ensures a few hours later.

He asks for a mirror.

He doesn’t know why, but he wants to see his face.

So they bring him a small hand mirror, and he finally cries.

It’s not that his face looks horrible.

In a way, it looks okay for someone who got beat up pretty badly.

So much blue and purple around his eyes, significantly more around his left eye.

Swelling around on his lips, and a small cut on his chin.

He’s wearing a hospital gown, but he can sense that bruises on his body are worse.

But that’s also not why he cries.

He cries, because he trusted the world for once. He let go and enjoined a beautiful moment.

What did he get in return?

This.

This whole damn mess.

————–

They finally let Sasha see Shea.

He is better now. His ankle still hurts but he manages to walk with a cane, the nurse helping him make it all the way down the cold bluish hallway.

Even though it only takes less than five minutes to reach Shea’s room, Sasha feels like it’s taking five hours instead.

His feet can’t carry him fast enough.

His heart is pounding so much that he almost gets insecure thinking that the nurse can probably hear it just as loud as he can.

His throat is tingling with imaginary butterflies.

He doesn’t remember much from the incident but he remembers exactly what happened prior.

Shea’s lips on his.

Lipstick colours mixing together.

Hands floating around, grasping each other for dear life.

The moan that escaped Shea’s lips when their tongues met.

The details are so vivid that he has to touch his lips just to make sure this is real life and that he’s not kissing Shea in this very moment.

When he first goes into the room, his vision gets blurry, and he feels lightheaded as the nurse helps him step further inside.

He can’t recognise anything or anyone-turns out, there are at least 3 people in Shea’s room- inside.

But he doesn’t care.

His eyes quickly scan the place, trying to locate Shea.

And then, it happens.

There he is.

Sitting on the bed, his back leaned against the white headboard.

His face looks just as bruised and swollen as Sasha’s, maybe even more.

He is wearing a full cast around his left leg.

Sasha’s heart sinks, but then Shea lifts his head and smiles the brightest smile.

Suddenly, nothing else really matters.

Sasha moves as quickly as he can, and when he gets to the bed, the first thing he does is reach for Shea’s hand.

“I missed you so much,” he manages to say before his eyes tear up.

“I missed you too,” Shea continues to smile as he squeezes his hand gently, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry for you leg,” Sasha says.

Shea, still smiling, just shrugs, “Don’t apologise for something that’s not your fault,”

He finally manages to look up at the people standing around the bed.

An elderly couple and a young man.

“These are my parents,” Shea introduces, “and This is my boyfriend Samuel,”

“This is Sasha, my lovely friend who was also attacked that night.”

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The word keeps repeating itself in his head.

Sasha smiles, and says hi.

He gets involved in small talk.

He grins, and laughs, and chats with the parents. With the boyfriend.

The boyfriend seems nice.

He’s tall, handsome, and articulate.

He pays attention to Shea and caters to his smallest needs like bringing water or changing the pillow position under his broken leg.

The parents seem to love him.

The dad keeps his arm wrapped around his shoulders, and the mom doesn’t stop praising him.

Sasha is happy for Shea.

He is glad he has someone he can rely on.

Oh bullshit.

He isn’t happy.

Well, maybe slightly.

But he’s more jealous.

He’s more furious that he trusted Shea, and somehow allowed himself to be baited by him.

But he can’t show it.

He can’t even talk to Shea about the kiss; something he was looking forward to do.

Glancing at Shea, he can see a look of slight remorse in his eyes, like he is apologising for what they have done, for what they haven’t done.

Sasha feels so upset that his bruises and fractures start hurting.

But no one in the room knows the real reason why as the nurse escorts him out, all the way down the same hallway.

His heart is still beating fast, but this time it’s because he’s sad. He’s broken.

And those throat butterflies?

They’ve turned into snakes wrapping around his neck and slowly strangling him.

His tears silently begin to stream down before they even make it back to his room.

The nurse notices and assumes it’s because of the physical pain he’s in.

She proceeds to give him a good dose of pain killers that Sasha doesn’t mind because it put him to sleep.

He forgets about Shea for a few hours.

When he wakes up though, it all comes back and hits him so hard he starts weeping again.

But this time he’s not alone.

This time his friend Aja is by his side.

Aja forces him to speak up.

And Sasha, being in his desperate state, goes on an hour ramble about how he’s in love with someone who’s in love with someone else.

“That’s fucked up, sis,” Aja says, “Do you think he’ll just pretend the kiss never happened?”

“For all I know, he might not have even remembered it. I don’t know, and I just don’t want to care anymore.” Sasha sighs in frustration.

“But you do care sis, and that’s okay. You just need some distractions. I promise you once you get out of here, you’re gonna get so much dick you’ll forget all about this guy.” Aja comforts.

And Sasha just nods even though deep down he knows that it’s not going to be as easy as Aja describes.

Sasha doesn’t go back to Shea’s room after that.

And Shea never comes to his.

They never text or call, and Sasha understands that Shea gets it. He gets that this whole thing needs to end.

Maybe that attack was a sign that they shouldn’t mess around. That Samuel is a good guy. That Shea should stay with him.

Sasha spends the remaining few days in the room either sleeping or catching up on Brooklyn drag gossip with Aja. He even designs a few looks on his sketchbook as a way to keep his brain cells busy enough not to remember Shea.

And it almost works.

Almost.

——————-

The first few weeks after leaving the hospital are weird.

Sasha’s father insists on staying over for a while to take care of him, especially that his ankle is still injured.

Sasha tries his best to forget Shea’s face, but it’s engraved onto the walls of his brain.

He reads books, and binge watches all the films he has avoided for years.

He catches up on his graphic design commissions, and tries to pick some new songs for his drag performances.

One night, he even convinces his dad to let him venture into Brooklyn with Aja and the rest of his friends. His dad is skeptical given that his fractures haven’t fully healed yet, but Sasha goes out anyway.

This time, he doesn’t let any drunk drag queen fall into his arm.

Instead, he goes to some random guy’s place, and they fuck.

It’s not sweet or romantic and it only happens when alcohol is present.

But Sasha doesn’t care.

He loses his mind in the moment, and he doesn’t care.

But when it all finishes, and he goes back home, all he can see between his eyes is Shea.

So he smokes a joint, and goes to bed.

It happens again with a different guy weeks later.

And then another one.

And many more that he can’t recall.

Sasha would lie if he said the hook ups didn’t help him forget about Shea a bit.

They did.

But in the back of his head, Shea’s smile is still there.

He learns to live with it eventually.

His dad leaves, ans he’s fully recovered now.

He goes back to his daily routine.

He’s working on more graphic design projects than ever, and his drag performances are making a buzz in the Brooklyn scene.

Things are just about to be good.

This is supposed to be one of his greatest performances in a famous Brooklyn drag queen.

One summer night.

Sasha Velour performing to Kate Bush’s Love and Anger.

She’s putting her heart and soul on the floor.

And when she’s done, hearing everyone’s applause, she feels at home.

She belongs.

She walks backstage, because she needs to get ready for the second and last performance of the night.

No one is in the dressing room.

She closes the door, and sits down on the worn out couch.

She looks at herself in a handheld mirror, and smiles.

She is finally free from some of the pain.

But it doesn’t last long, because what happens next takes her back to the moment that her heart broke to a million pieces.

Sasha can’t remember the details.

Shea, in drag, is suddenly in the room with her.

Does Shea knock?

Does she just walk in?

Does she sit next to her?

Or does she just stand there when she gives her speech?

It goes something along the lines of apologising and confessing an undying love. Something about no longer having a boyfriend.

“Please give me a chance,” Shea begs.

Sasha doesn’t know what happens next.

Maybe she just gets up and runs outside.

Maybe she takes a cab all the way back to her place.

Maybe that’s why she’s on her bed, crying silently in the dark.

It’s been months since the hospital.

Sasha has wanted this to happen for so long that she eventually had to let it go.

But then Shea came back, and now she’s lost and confused again.

She ignores everyone for a day, but then she gets up, and decides to face reality.

So he texts Shea, and arranges a coffee date.

Not a date.

But rather, a meet up to talk things through.

Shea might have been cruel enough to leave for a long time, but Sasha can’t do it.

After casual hellos and life updates, Sasha admits that he doesn’t know who Shea is anymore.

“I don’t even know who i'am anymore, to be honest.” He adds.

Everything has changed.

“Then let’s get to know each other all over again,” Shea suggests, reaching over to place his hand on top of Sasha’s hand on the table.

Sasha doesn’t move his hand.

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” Sasha asks.

His heart is beginning to play a very familiar beat, but he’s still unsure. Still hesitant.

“Then at least we tried, right?” Shea smiles.

That one smile.

The smile that brightens an entire room in a matter of seconds.

And just like that, Sasha decides to smile back.

He decides to go out with Shea again. And again. And again.

They go on many walks, and share French baguette sandwiches.

They listen to music together, and talk about their childhood.

Some nights, they stay up texting each other until sunrise.

Sasha notices the differences this time.

Shea is more open now.

He’s more loving, and caring.

And Sasha is no longer afraid of losing him.

They kiss, for the first- technically second- time randomly as they try to cook pasta one Sunday noon at Shea’s place.

And this time they’re not interrupted by anything or anyone.

They kiss, and make out, and make love.

As they lay in bed gasping for air, Shea looks at Sasha and whispers, “I’m in love with you.”

Sasha smiles, “i know,”

He grabs him for a soft tired kiss, “And I’m in love with you.”

“I know,” Shea grins.

#shea coulee #sasha velour #sashea #au #fluff #hurt/comfort #tw homophobic attack #tw language #tw substance abuse #wordsmithmaybe #rpdr fanfiction #submission #queen au