one of the things about having an unstable parent is that it can so easily ruin your future. you want to get out, but getting out takes having agency. it takes the resume and the grades and the stellar community service history.
but you have to choose your battles. you know if you sign up for an after-school activity, it'll be okay for a while, so long as the activity is parent-approved and god-fearing. over time, like all things, it will become an argument (i can't keep carting your ass to these things) or a weapon (talk to me like that again, see if you get to go to practice). sometimes, if you love the thing, it's worth it. but you also know better than to love something: that's how they get you. if you ever actually want something, it will always be the center of their attention. they will never stop threatening you with it. telling you of course i'm a good parent, i came to all of those stupid events.
you learn to balance yourself perfectly. you can either have a social life or you can have hobbies. both of these things will be under constant scrutiny. you spend too much time with her, you should be at home with family is equally paired with you're acting like this because you're addicted to what's on that goddamn screen. you cannot ever actually win, so everything falls within a barter system that you calculate before entering: do you want to learn how to drive? if so, you'll need to give up asking for a new laptop, even though yours died. maybe you can work on a computer at the library. of course, that would mean you'd be allowed to go to the library, which would mean something else has to bleed. nothing ever actually comes free.
and that bitter, horrible irony: you could be literally following their orders and it still isn't pretty. they tell you to get a job; they hate that your job keeps you late and gives you access to actual money. they tell you to do better in school; they say no child of mine needs a tutor. they want you to stop being so morose, don't you know there are people who are really suffering - but they revile the idea you might actually need therapy.
you didn't survive that fall the way other people would. you've seen other people scramble and get their way out, however they could. maybe you were made too-soft: the answer didn't come to you easily. it wasn't quick. it was brutal and nasty. some people even asked you why didn't you just work hard and escape during school? and you felt your head spinning. why didn't you? (they control your financial aid. they control your loan status. they love having that kind of thing). maybe in another life you got diagnosed sooner and got the meds you needed to actually focus and got attention from the right teachers who helped you clear hurdles to get up out of here - but for now? here?
the effort of trying. the effort of not-dying. that kind of effort was absolutely agonizing.
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Could we get some more Fae!Roach? Pretty please 👉🏻👈🏻
He's been oddly attached to you lately. Not that you're complaining, just proof positive that all your brujeria and bastardized magic was working. You feel his touch buzz over your skin, like insects just barely brushing by, like static electricity coming in for a quick shock. You don't know what it is, can't put your finger on it, but he always seems to be around when you're thinking of him. You're pulling books from the return box and arranging them on your cart when you spot Roach across the road. He's walking with someone, but you still push the door open and yell for him, giving him a friendly wave and a smile.
The man he's walking with taps his fists together in a 'G' before pushing them out to 'insect' with a meaningful look, Roach bats at his hands and presses his hand against the man's face, his cheeks under his mask turning pink as he waves back at you. You laugh and pop back into the library to finish your work. You hardly get a book on the cart before the doors open and Roach is looking around. He holds the door for his friend just long enough for the man to catch it with his hand before he's making his way towards you.
You pause your work to smile at him, giving a small nod to his friend. "Who's this?" You ask him, unsure what to do while Roach is digging through his pockets. The man steps around him and holds his hand out.
"Gaz, me an' Roach go way back," He smiles, and it's terribly charming. You take his hand and give it a firm shake, enjoying the solid grip of Gaz's fingers. He releases you after a moment, just in time for Roach to grab your hand and press something solid into it.
You blink down at the impromptu gift, a little glass vial. You hold it up to the light, the downy feathers inside shift from a deep black to a vibrant blue as you tip the vial. Cool. You meet Roach's gaze, his eyes heavy and insistently focused on you. Actually this is great timing.
"I have something for you too!" You tuck the vial of unknown feathers into your pocket and glance around for any fellow librarians, "Wait here, I'll get it." Roach nods excitedly, and you abandon your cart to go behind the front desk.
You dig around for your backpack, then dig through your backpack for the little pin you'd found at the print shop. When you go back to Roach and Gaz they're talking with rapid sign language, their hands moving too quickly for you to follow. You make out a few signs, but without context you're lost. You hold the pin up to show Roach, a little beetle with open wings, it reminded you of him. He makes a gesture towards you that you don't need to understand sign to get the gist of: "see?" complete with raised brows as he takes the pin.
Gaz nods and makes a pulling motion from his chest.
Roach shakes his head.
"What're you talking about?" You ask, patient, but not enough to be left out of a conversation clearly about you.
"Roach's just tellin' me how much he likes you," Gaz supplies, earning another frantic face pushing from Roach. You laugh and turn to grab another book out of the return bin.
"I like him a lot too," You tell him, mostly because it makes Roach look at you with eyes that could give puppies a run for their money. Gaz hums, his smile stays bright but his eyes narrow. It makes you uneasy.
"Suppose that's why you got his name on you," Gaz says, and you snap a hand over the name you'd drawn in kohl on your arm. It's covered by your sleeve, you don't know how Gaz would have noticed. His eyes dart down to where you've grabbed, another hum and a different, dark, smile.
Roach waves a hand between you and flips Gaz off. Gaz snorts, the moment broken in favor of the two men slapping at each other. Gaz turns towards the exit, blowing a kiss at Roach who catches it and pantomimes throwing it across the room. "Jerkoff" Roach signs, and Gaz shakes his head.
"Don't keep him out too late," He tells you, "Got work in the morning."
"Um, sure." You half mumble, unsure what to say after... that. The door closes behind Gaz and Roach steps in front of you. He tips his head this way and that, leaning close to look at you. You blow a breath of air at him and see his eyes crinkle, his smile barely contained by his face mask. Another tip of his head, a quick lean in, and he's got his covered lips pressed to yours, pulled back only to press to your cheek.
"Do we have a date later?" You ask him, unsure if you forgot or if Gaz was just poking fun. Roach's eyes dart to the door before he nods quickly.
"We do now," He signs. You grin, twisting your fingers in the front of his tee, his hands quickly find your hips and pull you close. Silly man, but you suppose you had been hoping to see him tonight. His timing is truly enviable. You don't know how he does it.
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