#like this poem is started a couple months old and i was feeling just melancholy enough today to finish it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

Text

What If?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You think back on your relationship with Bucky, with questions of 'What if' surrounding you, four questions stood out to you, so you wonder- which one will come true?

Word count: 4,179

Warnings: melancholy angst, character death of sorts (not real deaths), some fluff, the winter soldier, mentions of violence, civil war Bucky, language, me referencing poems.

A/N: Civil War timeline with some modifications. Italics are daydreams. The question What If? Is my favourite question- it is so hopeful and yet so destructive. Besides the Taylor song, I also based this on the song 'What If?' From the musical If/Then

A/N2: this is based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift for @captain-kelli Don't Call It A Comeback Tour challenge! When I signed up for it this entire story just came to my mind all at once and I could see it all from start to finish. However when I finally sat down with my outline to write it… something possessed it. I have mixed feelings about this but oh well, I hope you will like it! Thank you @lookiamtrying for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

It always came back to your head in flashes; he came back in glances at objects around your apartment, but he never came back to you- not in your reality. You remembered the last night you saw him next to you, you remembered his cold voice that you read so well past. You mostly remembered the look in his blue eyes- they were soft and sad, contrasting his tone just like how his words contrasted their true meaning.

You had found your little piece of heaven in this small apartment, Bucky found his peace with you. He was always cautious, ever since he pulled Steve out of the river and started to remember his old life he run away from hydra, using all of his training to disappear from both sides that were looking for him. And then he found you and everything changed. You didn't know who he was at first, but by the time he opened up and told you who he was he held a part of your heart. It took some time but by the time you earned his full trust you took space in his heart, and when you didn't run away after you found out about him- your place in his heart grew and he kept you there safe. Logically he knew he should never stay for too long, and he shouldn't stay with you, but you were the first friend he had in decades- you helped him through nightmares, and you gave him a diary to keep track of the memories that started to come back. So he risked everything, and took every precaution to make sure he could stay there with you and dissipate his past from his potential future with you. And slowly but surely your relationship together evolved. You were proud of every progress he made- when the nightmares became rare, when you had to buy him another notebook, when he talked to you about it and you saw him forgive himself for something that was not his choice- you were proud when he started smiling and touching you more freely even with his left arm. You were proud of him when he showed his emotions more and told you those three little words with a bright look in his eye that caused you to smile and reply those same three words.

Then he came home to you one night with a heavy look that you haven't seen in a long time- you remember it from the time you were only friends, when he came to your door after a nightmare, panicked, saying he should run away.

He didn't talk that night, but you felt him change again, you felt him being more reserved again, like the Bucky you first met.

Then he came home to you one night a week later with the same look but now you saw his eyes- they weren't cold, they were emotional.

"They found me." No they didn't.

"Bucky," he was never one to lie. "What are you saying?"

You left the mug you held on the counter and walked to him in the living room. When he didn't answer you went to sit on the couch, patting the spot next to you.

"Talk to me, please." Bucky went towards you but he bent down and you knew what he was about to do. He moved the rug away and pulled at the wooden floor until you could both see the hidden space there where he told you an emergency bag will be necessary. He pulled it out.

"I need to go, you can't come with me."

"No, Bucky look at me," you stood up in front of him, "you don't have to run away! I can come with you-"

"It's too dangerous! You can't date the Winter Soldier!" He finally said. You knew he was trying to scare you with his cold tone, but you didn't let him.

"And yet, I am still here! I am not going to leave you Bucky- no one found you, stay with me- please don't run away."

"Doll," his eyes always gave him away. "I need to go, they are close. I need to leave."

"Bucky," tears welled up in your eyes. "Will you-"

"I am not going to come back."

Yes, you remember that night well. You played it in your head over and over again. You remembered your tears, the slamming door, and mostly the quiet.

You felt it when you woke up alone again every day after that. You saw him on the TV a few weeks after he left you- he stood next to Captain America- at least he found Steve. You had a million things you wished you could have said, questions you wished to know. You never know, though, when it will all go away, but you know the greatest loves of all time are over now, they always end. But you could never let it go, he plagued your mind.

It was the constant question of: Would he have stayed for you? If things were different? If he didn't have an excuse to leave?

You knew the answer could kill you, but your mind couldn't help but wonder- What if?

•

What if he stayed?

"I'm not coming back." Bucky closed the door behind him, it slammed harder than he intended to. He took the time to rest against the door, gathering his thoughts as he softly whispered to the air-

"I love you."

You brought life to his grey world, you helped him find himself- is he scared more of hydra finding you, or of you? Everything good seemed to be taken from him, and you were the sunshine for him- the moonlight comfort of the midnight nightmares.

Bucky spent so long running, what if he just let himself have this- you? What if he didn't use his past as an excuse to run away from his possible future?

He didn't think further when he opened the door again and shut it behind him. His eyes were just as soft and glassy as yours, filled with unshed tears. He came to you and you got up from the couch- without missing a beat he pulled you to him, holding you tight.

"I'm sorry, doll, I love you, and I don't want to leave you."

"Then stay, please. We are safe." You held him tighter and let out a shaking breath when you realized he didn't walk away, he stayed for you.

"I'll stay." He promised you that night, both of you refused to let go.

It was a few months after that and Bucky passed a jewelry shop, he watched as couples inside looked at all the shiny items and picked a few to take to their home. You were his home.

When he came back to you, the house smelled like his favourite pie that you made. He wanted to stay forever here with you, you didn't have much, but you had enough to get by and it was everything he could wish for right now.

But at night he laid wide awake, his metal arm surrounding you securely, drawing senseless patterns on your skin as you slept.

He couldn't give you a future like all the other normal couples have, but he could try to do his best, you always told him that trying was enough.

Bucky went to the museum the next night, when the old guard fell asleep he snuck in and searched for his treasure- in the area that displayed his stuff from the 40s- he found it. His ma's engagement ring, it was silver with two blue stones on either side the small diamond- you will look so perfect wearing it.

He was walking home with a smile, hoping to be home before you wake up- he left you a note but he knew you would only worry.

On the way, he decided to purchase some plums and then he saw the newspaper- the assassination of King T'Chaka, blamed on the Winter Soldier. He knew he had to get home fast. The smile dropped from his face and he ran to you.

"Doll!" He yelled to you when he closed the apartment shut, he panicked when you didn't answer. Checking the windows were closed, he saw no sign of forced entry, so he moved to the bedroom you shared."Doll,"

You were still asleep peacefully in your bed, only opening your eyes when you heard him call you again.

"Good morning, Bucky." You smiled at him and went to pull him down for a kiss which he gladly returned, letting himself relax when he knew you were safe. "What are you doing all dressed up-"

You stopped when you saw his nervous eyes.

"What happened?" you sat up on the bed and held Bucky's hand as he told you about the news.

"But, they don't know where we are, so we will be fine… right?" you were trying to stay hopeful, you didn't want anything to get in the way of your happiness, but life finds a way.

"We can't be certain… doll I think we need to go."

"Go where?" you didn't want to leave this house, you shared so many moments here with him, "This is our home."

"You are my home, we can find a place for us wherever we go- but I have to keep you safe with me. So, we need to go."

You only nodded to him, solemnly getting out of bed and packing the essentials he told you to take.

Soon enough, you were ready to go, but he stopped you before you reached for the door handle.

"Wait," his throat suddenly went dry, but he had to do this- he had to do this here. "I just need to tell you something, before we go."

"What is it?"

"We shared so many memories here, you helped me find myself and never gave up on me. And then I fell in love with you and I was so happy when I first kissed you and you admitted to loving me as well- and you let me set the pace. You were always there for me, doll, and I always want you to be."

"Bucky, what are you-"

"My ma always told me to give this to someone special, someone who managed to see the real me, and I have no clue how you did it, doll, but you did." He got down on one knee, "So, I want to do my ma proud, do this properly."

And then he went down on one knee, and then you said yes.

You smiled, you would have been so happy, and he never would have gotten caught, not if he had you. You've only seen the ring before in pictures but… it would have been fun, if he would've been the one.

You really were something together, so you let your mind wonder again.

Little did you know that all that time ago, Bucky had wondered the exact same thing. What if he stayed?

Bucky burst through the door, shutting it behind him as he went to envelop you in his arms.

"I'm not leaving you, not ever." He held you tight- and he promised he won't let you go no matter what happened. He couldn't handle not being with you.

Months passed with you sleeping soundly next to him.

Another day started like any other- right before he heard the explosion coming from the living room, awakening both you and Bucky in freight.

"Bucky, what's happening?" You whispered to him as you saw him get up and grab the gun that was taped under the bed.

"Stay here, I'll keep you safe, they found me but I promise- I won't let them get to you." He told you, and then Bucky went, opening the door and seeing the Hydra agents that stormed his house- his home.

Bucky sprung to action and shot the ones that came near him, protecting himself from the bullets with his metal arm. As soon as he took care of the agents in his home, he heard voices coming up the stairs- he had to get you out of here.

"Doll, come on, we have to go." He urgently told you, seeing you were already dressed and took the emergency bag he kept under your bed- you always knew.

"Where to, Bucky?" your shaky voice didn't escape him as he escorted you through the bodies on the floor, but he didn't have time to comfort you right now- his only mission was to get you to safety. That was all he wished for. That was all he wished for when you went to the roof to look at the stars, when you passed by a fountain and he remembered his ma telling him to toss pennies in the pool and make a wish.

He helped you down the fire escape and held you tight as he jumped onto another roof. Then he simply told you to run as he seeked temporary cover to think of an exit for you. They were shooting at you now, and he ushered you in front of him, having his body as a shield for you.

He found a place behind a vent as soon as you gained some speed and put space between you and the Hydra agents.

"Bucky-" your soft voice called to him, bringing him back to you. He looked at you when you just looked at your stomach, where blood was now seeping through your shirt.

"No, no doll stay with me-" your eyes began to flutter as the dizziness took you. "We will fix it, you'll be okay- I'll fix it."

"Bucky- it's okay." Your hand caressed his cheek; you winced when he put pressure on the wound.

"No, it's not! I can't lose you doll, this is all my fault, please stay with me." You felt his tears on your hand, even when you felt things go dark, you didn't break his gaze.

"This isn't your fault, Bucky. I love you, please promise me you'll stay yourself- don't let them convince you you're anything but a good man."

"No, doll, stay- please." His voice broke. "I love you."

The lights went out in your eyes, and he felt all the light in his life go with you, he sobbed over you, not caring about the hydra agents getting close. No one will take you away from him. He didn't let you go, he couldn't handle being without you.

If only his wishes came true, it would've been you that was alive instead of him, and you would've been safe.

•

What if you had gone after him?

It took you months, but you knew you had to go after him and fight for the two of you. You finally found him- they had taken him to the Avengers facility like you saw on the news. He was captured with Captain America- his former friend, you hoped Steve was taking care of your Bucky.

He had to be safe now, right? From what you heard of Steve… he won't let anything happen to him- so you hoped that maybe you could tell him who you were to Bucky and they will let you see him.

You walked into the facility with your cover, standing idly in the corner of the room as you watched Bucky being locked in a cage. It hurt your heart and you wished you could walk up to Steve but he was with government officials- and those were never good.

Then everything went dark. You were freaking out like the rest of them when you heard a girl talking to Steve-

"Sublevel 5, east wing." She had said and you quickly exited from the room, hoping to get to Bucky. Remembering the schematics of the building you memorized, you rushed to him. Was it dangerous? Maybe. Did you care? Not even a bit.

You ran down the stairs when you heard a commotion.

You entered the floor to see Tony Stark aiming a weapon against Bucky. You've never seen him this way, as the Winter Soldier- but he was still your Bucky.

"No!" you shouted when a loud blast echoed in the room. Tony went to attack him and you stood there helpless, not knowing what to do. You knew in your heart that he will recognize you- he has to. He is your Bucky- he said he will never forget you.

Two girls went to attack him after he pushed Tony Stark away and you rushed forward, getting to him before the others, you grabbed his arm.

"Civilians aren't allowed here, get out of the way!" The Black Widow called to you, but you ignored her as Bucky turned to you. You couldn't see him in the Winter Soldier's eyes but you knew he was there. The Winter Soldier grabbed you by the throat with his metal arm and pinned you to the wall, but you tried to stop him.

"Bucky- Bucky it's me, please come back to me." You said to him and dared to reach out to hold his cheek. "Bucky I'm here, I know you can break out of this- you won't hurt me."

His hard eyes were now confused instead and he did nothing for a couple of moments before you knew you had him.

"Doll?" he whispered to you, before he pulled away from you, realizing what happened. You didn't let him get far.

"I'm here Bucky, you didn't hurt me." You took his flesh hand, shooting a daring glance at the two girls who stood there on edge. "Please don't hurt him."

You brought Bucky closer, seeing the hesitation in his eyes, you assured him.

"I've got you, you didn't hurt me. Bucky, let me keep you safe for once." You brought him closer and he sent a shaky look at the agents, eyes falling to their guns and weapons that stood ready. "Look at me."

He did, and your eyes brought him ever so closer until you could hug him properly. You held him closely, keeping a tight hold around his neck. His arms soon surrounded you, and you knew he had his eyes sharp and open, protecting you all the time, checking for potential threats.

"We need to go." He told you. You turned around when you heard footsteps approaching, and Natasha yelling at them to stand down.

"Buck?" You heard Steve's voice, but with the new people with guns, Bucky immediately pulled you back so he could stand in front of you to protect you.

"Why are you just standing there?" One of the government officials came into the room and ordered around. "Take him down!"

"No!" Both you and Steve yelled. You saw red- no one will hurt him again.

"Listen," you ignored Bucky who was adamant on keeping you behind him and you stepped forward, his hand was still on your waist. "He will do whatever it takes to keep me safe, whoever points a gun at me will be viewed as a threat that he will take out- so I suggest you move out of the room."

Steve looked puzzled between his friend and Natasha, who just shook her head at his silent question.

"Do you think I will leave a dangerous hydra asset- the Winter Soldier- alone by the hands of some girl?" Bucky's hand tightened around you.

"His name is James Bucky Barnes, not an asset- just a man." You spat out at him, "Only these five can stay- I think three avengers are more capable than you or your team to deal with this. So unless you want to lose your life because you insulted some girl- move out, now."

"Listen to the girl, Ross" Tony held his hands up and the other man walked out until it was only the two of you, Steve, Tony, Natasha, the blonde agent and Prince T'Challa. You looked at Bucky behind you before you looked at Steve.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Steve." He nodded to you, "I have heard a lot about you. And I hope you didn't change from who you used to be."

"And why is that?" Natasha spoke up.

"Because all I want is for Bucky to be safe. He hasn't been triggered in two years, not since the Triskelion. He did nothing wrong- he is just Bucky now." You interlaced your fingers with his and you felt him relax behind you.

"He killed my father." The king said and you shook your head.

"I didn't kill your father." Bucky said quietly.

"He was with me the entire time, at a different country too." You hoped they will listen to you.

"Ross will not be happy… but let's take my jet and get out of here. How does that sound?" Tony offered, "And then we can talk."

You looked back at Bucky and nodded, he smiled softly at you, and you knew you will be okay.

Yes, you would have been okay. If you were there you would have talked sense into everyone. He would have been okay if you went after him- you wouldn't have let anything happen to him. It played all out in your head like a film, but you knew the greatest films of all time were never made- all because of a single choice.

Little did you know, that when Bucky sat in his cell as the guy in front of him started reading the words- all he thought about was you. He was so glad you weren't there, he couldn't even imagine what would have happened if you had gone after him.

Bucky felt the words take over him, he shook his head trying to fight it.

"No."

But it was too late, and Bucky was stuck inside his own mind. He tried to fight him, but The Winter Soldier was in control.

It was all a blur to him, but then he saw you- he heard your voice, and suddenly all he could do was fight, trying to break free from all those years of torture just to save you- if only he could save you, he could forgive himself- he could fight.

He hoped you could still see him there, he heard you call out his name.

"Bucky- Bucky it's me, please come back to me." You said to him and dared to reach out to hold his cheek- he could feel you. "Bucky I'm here, I know you can break out of this- you won't hurt me."

He tried- he tried to break free for you and he almost did.

"Bucky-" he heard you call out to him and he was forced to watch as the spark in your eyes, that you reserved just for him, died out. He was caged- and you died because of him, because he wasn't strong enough.

Bucky tried to shake the mental image of your lifeless body from his head. He sat in that chair as the Winter Soldier took over him, you didn't know it but all he thought about back then was you and the only relief he had is that you weren't around for him to hurt.

•

But What if the story ends here?

You pulled yourself out of the memories you could have had and brought yourself back to the present, if only you had done something- anything. You looked around your apartment as you sat on the couch, your tea long forgotten. You rose up with a sigh, and you pondered how long were you going to wonder about the road not taken? He haunted all of your What Ifs. Four years ago you chose to let two blue eyes into your life- and that has made all the difference. Two years ago those blue eyes left your life- and that had changed everything.

You went to close the old bag you found, with the shiny object still in its box- you shut it and delicately put it in the bag and closed it.

You still mused over it though- if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? With each choice that you make you lose roads you won't get to take, with each coin that you toss you lose choices you won't get to make. You choose and then everything changes, and you know there is no turning back... so you wonder- What if?

If only your wishes came true, Bucky would have come back to you.

But timing is a funny thing.

You almost missed the knock on the door. Putting the mug on the table, you went to the door.

If your wishes came true, he would have chosen you.

You opened the door, coming face to face with a man you only saw on TV, with his hair now short, his left arm black and gold- so much changed but his eyes were still the same. He was still Bucky- was he still yours? You couldn't help but wonder…

"Bucky?"

"Hi, doll."

What if it began again?

•

Taglist: : @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @samwilsons-pillowpecs @ayybtch @kitkatd7 @chrissquares @make-me-imagine @jessalyn-jpeg @buckybarneschokeme

173 notes · View notes

365days365movies · 3 years

Text

March 21, 2021: Orlando (1992)

Tilda Swinton...confuses me.

Like, in a good way. Because Tilda may be the most versatile actor working today. I mean, look at the goddamn filmography, and you’ll see what I’ve mean. I’ve seen Tilda Swinton in a lot, surprisingly, and I don’t think anything I’ve seen was bad. For example, I am an ARDENT defender in the portrayal of the Ancient One in the MCU.

I understand the controversy here, but I actually think this is excellent casting. Especially considering...being comic book-accurate would NOT have been a good idea with this role, if we’re trying to AVOID controversy. But Tilda Swinton FUCKING KILLED IT in this role, and I will always be happy for this choice.

Let’s see, there’s Jadis in the Narnia films, as shown at the top, there’s Snowpiercer, as Mason (an amazing character, and an acting job that Swinton disappears into), Moonrise Kingdom as Social Services, The Grand Budapest Hotel as Madame D., and Gabriel in Constantine. Which is a good segue to the next talking point...

Gabriel is pointedly androgynous, and honestly, Tilda Swinton kind of is as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t used any pronouns in referencing to Tilda Swinton, entirely out of respect. Gonna be a little hard to keep up with, so I’ll be using she/her from here on out, only because those are the pronouns that Swinton’s most recently promoted for herself. She’s also referred to herself as queer of some variety, as well as being famously gender non-conforming.

Which is fitting, given that a lot of that public image began with today’s movie, one of her first big roles. I’ll be revisiting Swinton in the independent movie scene in a couple of months, but this may be a good introduction. Instead of spoiling anything off the bat, I’m gonna jump right in. And so, I present: Orlando. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with a young man named, well, Orlando (Tilda Swinton), a young man with a feminine appearance and a good upbringing. His name means power land and property, but all he really wants is company. He writes and rests by a tree in the day, but falls asleep by mistake. When he wakes up, he runs back to where he’s meant to be, with a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp) playing in the background. And that’s a REAL song, by the way, actually sung in the 1600s for Elizabeth! Very neat.

A title screen flashes, reading “1600: Death”, and we see where Orlando is meant to be. He speaks poetry for the Queen and her court, but is interrupted by the aged queen, who asks whether or not his poem is appropriate for her presence, as the poem is about youth, and Queen Elizabeth is not that. Orlando’s father (John Bott), who is serving as host to Elizabeth, intervenes on his behalf. However, it doesn’t seem to matter to the Queen, as she invites Orlando back to England to serve as her “favourite”. He accepts, and soon lives alongside the Queen. She quickly promises Orlando much land and property, for him and his heirs, but on one condition: that he does not fade, wither, or grow old.

The same wish cannot be applied to Elizabeth herself, nor to his father, as both grow old and die soon afterwards. Fast forward 10 years, and it’s a cold winter in England. Visiting Orlando’s vast estate is a woman from Russia, named Sasha (Charlotte Valandrey), and Orlando quickly falls for her. This is to the dismay of Euphrosne (Anna Healy), his fiancée? I’m not sure, to be honest, but they’re definitely involved, and she’s definitely upset.

However, this is also a scandal for everybody else as well, not just because Orlando’s already engaged, but also because Sasha is Russian, during a particularly poor economic period for the country. Euphrosne angrily throws his ring back at him, and Orlando speaks directly to the audience, telling us that a man must follow his heart. The two go to his private cottage, and they start to make out, when Orlando suddenly comes down with intense melancholy.

Because this is such great happiness that he feels, but this happiness too will one day end. Which is, like, the most emo-shit I’ve ever heard, but I’m kinda here for it. And yet, that happiness does indeed end, when Sasha is forced to return to Russia, despite Orlando’s pleading for her to stay. He asks her to meet him at London Bridge, so that they may elope together.

Later, Orlando happens upon a performance of Othello, noting to us that it’s a terrific play. This is as the death of Othello is being played out, so that’s probably foreshadowing, right? Anyway, Orlando leads two horses through the thick fog, waiting for Sasha to arrive and come away with him. But as a storm sets in, there is no sign of Sasha. And Orlando stands there in the rain. Said rain, though, soon becomes ice, underneath his feet, floating away down the river, along with his hopes of a happy future with Sasha. The treachery of women, according to Orlando.

Over the next week, Orlando languishes in his bed, asleep for the entire time. Increasingly more servants are brought up to try and rouse him, only for him to remain asleep, no matter what they do. But then, he wakes up, noting that he can only conjure three words to describe women, none of them worth explaining.

Forty years later, and the title screen cries “Poetry”! And Orlando looks exactly the same. Guess he really took that whole “don’t grow old” thing from Elizabeth to heart, huh? He speaks to a poet, Nick Greene (Heathcote Williams), and gushes about his poetry, which is a pursuit that he loves greatly. But Nick is...well, Nick is kind of a dick, to be honest. Orlando wants only to share his love and his poetry with him, but Nick’s only in it for the money. Not a true artist, and he mocks Orlando’s poetry, which he reads only after Orlando offers him money. And then, he writes a poem mocking Orlando further, which angers Orlando...but doesn’t stop the money flowing to Nick.

Orlando moves onto his next pursuit, in 1700, in the next section: Politics. Now over 100 years old, Orlando becomes an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, and travels to Constantinople. There, he receives a somewhat rough and awkward greeting, which Orlando is not helping with. They share some Turkish coffee, Orlando has trouble drinking that Turkish coffee, they drink a LOT of Turkish coffee, and they toast to multiple things, including the “beauty of women, and the joys of love.” Orlando pauses at this, and reveals that he is still suffering quite a bit of heartbreak. His Turkish friend, the Khan (Lothaire Bluteau), bonds with him about this.

After 10 years, Orlando has fully retreated into life as a Turkish man. This is interrupted by a British emissary, sent to bring him news of a new appointment and power from the Queen. However, something goes wrong when the Khan arrives and takes Orlando hostage. The city is under attack, and the Khan asks Orlando if he will help against their enemies. Orlando agrees, and gives them arms, and heads to help himself at the walls. There, he witnesses a man dying, and it shakes him greatly. And just like before, he sleeps it off for seven days. And then...she wakes up.

YUP. WHAT.

Yeah, um, Orlando is now a woman. Like she says: “Same person, just a different sex.” Which is a very interesting premise, not gonna lie. Looks like Orlando now has to live life as a woman, which is going to be...difficult in 1700s Turkey. Or England. Or anywhere. Or any time.

Still, Orlando approaches this new life with aplomb, and without really any needed caution. Parading in some awesome dresses, she greets fellow nobility as the lady Orlando. However, the emissary from earlier, Archduke Harry (John Wood), begins to recognize her as similar to the lord Orlando.

In speaking with a group of poets, however, Orlando learns EXACTLY what men think of women in this society, and it’s not even a little bit good. She leaves, enraged and embarrassed. Harry also speaks with her, assuming that she was a woman all along. However, Orlando’s in EVEN MORE shit, as she’s quickly served with papers that are an attempt to take away all of her property and titles, because Lord Orlando is legally dead, and Lady Orlando is a woman, which one of them says is basically the same thing. FUCKIN’ YIKES, BRUV.

Ah, but Harry tries to help by proposing to her ON THE FUCKIN’ SPOT. He believed that Orlando was perfect as both genders, and is happy to do it. However, Orlando understandably refuses, and after Harry tells her that she will die as a spinster, alone and dispossessed, she runs into a nearby hedge maze. And while in the hedge maze, time passes, and her outfit changes to match the period accordingly.

Forward 140 years now! The year is 1850, and a new chapter begins: Sex.

And as she runs from the maze, she runs into who else...but Shelmerdine (Billy Zane), a man who...Shelmerdine? SHELMERDINE? What fuckin’ witch cursed his entirely family line to have THAT name? That’s the kind of family that was named AFTER a bridge, not the other way around! WHAT KINDA NAME IS FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE?

Well, I’ve looked it up now, and it is apparently a real name. So, if any Shelmerdines are reading this...I mean, I’m sorry, but also, FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE? OK, back to Shelmerdine. He’s twisted his ankle falling off his horse, and Orlando is now taking care of him. She reveals, in the process, that she’s about to lose everything. The reasons for that aren’t quite said, but Shelmerdine offers a place at his side, back to the great free land of America.

After having a conversation about the roles of men and women in the world (which is interesting given the context of the film in general), the two fulfill the chapter’s imperative. And we never see the act, but we do get some interesting angles and hand-holding. But the next morning, this post-coital reverie is interrupted by the lawyers from the Queen. The lawsuits have been settled, and Orlando has been legally declared a woman, meaning that unless she has a son, all of her possessions will be lost.

Shelmerdine (I swear, every time I say that name, a fairy gets chlamydia) leaves as well, with the southwest wind. As he heads back to America to fight for freedom, Orlando stands in the rain, facing an uncertain future, and broken fully by the politics of the time period.

And then...the sound of planes overhead. Looks like a new time period once again, heading into the periods of World Wars, and Orlando is now...heavily pregnant. OH. FUCK. Welcome to the next chapter: Birth.

We jump past the period of World War II, and to the 1990s! Orlando is presenting a book to a publisher, and he believes that the book will sell. With her young daughter in tow, she finally goes back to her old mansion, now finally able to go back after losing it 100 years prior. The narration from the beginning repeats, recontextualized for Orlando’s new life. She is over 400 years old, and finally, FINALLY...she is happy.

youtube

And that’s Orlando! I think I loved it. Real talk, this was a fascinating movie, and I’m into it. I’m very much into it. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from this film, but I’m glad I watched it regardless. More in the Review, though! See you there!

#orlando #orlando 1992 #sally potter #tilda swinton #billy zane #lothaire bluteau #john wood #virginia woolf #orlando film #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365days365movies #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

61 notes · View notes

itstheinternetofthings · 2 years

Text

Books Read 2021

The first year I recorded every title consumed. I didn’t read as much this year as I thought I would, but I did see some really good tv. Maybe I’ll keep a list of that next year too.

Feminism is for Everybody - bell hooks

Early last year I realized my political and feminist education was patchy and derivative. I read this book through the end days of 2020 and wrapped it up the first quiet week of the new year. I can’t believe she just died as this year closes out. I have so much more to read, to learn, to embody.

Water for Elephants - Sara Gruen

This book was light, fun, kinda stupid. I read it in a three day bender, most of it in one afternoon when I called out sick from work and lay in my sunlit studio apartment bed, suspended between sleep and story.

Sister Outsider - Audre Lorde

I’ve read the essay on pleasure several times now. My favorite essay is the one where she goes to soviet russia and uzbekistan. This woman opened new corners of my mind. Took a really great bath with this book too.

Queenie - Candice Carty-Williams

I fangirl. A bridget jones style with heavy racial justice content. I feel in love with the protagonist, her flaws and her strengths. Also every man in here was completely nauseating and scary. What a world.

The Memorial - Christopher Ischerwood

I found this in a little free library when I went to drop off some old books. It was pretty good, somewhat forgettable, a glimpse into upper class queer english life.

People’s History of Chicago - Kevin Coval

Raleigh gave me this poetry volume years ago, when she moved back from Chicago after finishing her doctorate. It was so much better than I expected, and I was shocked to find out after reading it that Kevin Coval is a white guy???

InvestED - Danielle Town

The year I realized i needed to start investing. I started with this book, recommended by my brother. Nick read it too, and thankfully found it more interesting than I. We did some of the exercises together and eventually decided it was probably better to just throw our money into index funds than to try to beat the market. Also, this author used to fly from Boulder to Geneva for a saturday/sunday dick appointment and then be back in the office on Monday like wtf girl that is next level.

The Makioka Sisters - Junichiro Tanazaki

Beautiful, melancholy, a gorgeous find from the used bookstore in the k-town mall. Four sisters from a dying world. A universe I could just barely imagine.

Homegoing- Yaa Gyasi

Wow, wow, wow, wow. The generations that make us. The trauma we inherit and pass down. Lives lived and paths taken. We carry it all. Just a chapter or a page away. Devourable.

Mating in Captivity - Esther Perel

I find myself recommending this book at least once a month, to couples and singles alike. I reference it constantly. It was recommended to Nick and I by our couple’s therapist in LA, and it gave us a language to communicate about tricky taboo things - uncouth fantasies, desiring others outside the relationship, the diminishing of attraction as intimacy deepens. It normalized a lot of the things I thought were wrong or sinister about my desires. Just in talking about these topics, the fear and claustrophobia of monogamy waned. Read it, read it, read it.

American Sunrise - Joy Harjo

I loved the poems and I loved her love of the saxophone.

Dear Girls - Ali Wong

Not usually the kind of book I would choose, but this was the week we were moving and I was overwhelmed, stressed, and pretty fucking depressed so I was hoping for something that could make me chuckle. It wasn’t _that_ funny but she did talk about the horrors of pregnancy in a way that was new to me, and I think in general this book opened me to comedy as an art form.

Minor Feelings - Cathy Park Hong

Devastating essays. I recently went to the REI in the Puck building to buy a warm hat, and later realized I might have been standing in the spot where Theresa Cha was brutally raped and murdered.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks - Rebecca Skloot

Turns out the Lacks family hates Rebecca Skloot and this book, but I didn’t find out until months after I finished it. Shout out to the Lackses, those people deserve better.

The Piano Teacher - Janice K Lee

Given to me by a friend. Wasn’t too impressed. Still, a fun portrayal of a party girl in high society hong kong in the years leading up to WWII. Makes me think about how much the colonial era shaped everything. I also like the scene at the end where the blonde english lady just goes all in on hong kong, orders her noodles like a local, and never looks back.

The Underground Railroad - Colson Whitehead

A lot has already been said on this, I don’t think I have anything new to add, only that it’s basically perfect. One of the few male writers I really like.

An Indigenous People’s History of the United States - Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz

Forever altered the way I look at this country, at my ancestry, at history and education and identity as a whole. I will never be the same. I can’t recommended it enough.

Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller

Nothing like crying on the train even though you already knew that they both die

Fingersmith - Sarah Waters

Holy shit, my favorite book I read this year, plowed through this dickensian lesbian victorian crime drama like it was an ice cream sundae. Can’t wait to read the rest of her work.

Pleasure Activism - adrienne marie brown

I love the project. Her voice irritated me at times but that’s probably my own shit I need to work out. Love the message that collective liberation is the most pleasurable thing there is - and exploring how we can really feel that it’s so.

The New York Trilogy - Paul Auster

Ugh, hated this. Made me feel so disgusted, bored, depressed. I know he’s the shit or whatever but just no.

Frankenstein - Mary Shelley

More monster. Less Victor.

Dune - Frank Herbert

I mean it was fine. All the characters were so flat and lifeless, I didn’t really care at all when they died or changed. Timothy Chalamet is the hottest though, worth it just to see him on screen in that little prince suit being so tall and skinny like a sexy whippet.

The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh

Had this on my shelf since forever, meaning to read it and give it back to Olivia. I thought it would be boring but omg what a page turner. Who knew cetology could be so fun and sexy?

Untouchable - Mulk Raj Anand

The uncanny, almost shameful freefall feeling when you realize other cultures and countries have histories just as deeply nuanced, philosophy and politics just as complex, as anything the European and American cultures have every produced, and that as an educated person I know just the barest sliver of what it could mean to exist in this world, of what kinds of questions have been asked. I hope that this feeling continues to unfold and reinforce itself for as long as I live.

3 notes · View notes

promethes · 4 years

Text

Grief is as human an emotion as joy or melancholy. To live is to grieve and be grieved. If other emotions are ponds, grief is the Mariana trench. More “common” everyday emotions (happiness, sadness, excitement) can be expressed in a myriad of slightly differing ways. With one word, we can distinguish not only an emotion but specify how that emotion is felt. The umbrella of “happy” covers everything from pure joy to cheerfulness to contentment. “Sadness” can come in forms of melancholy or sorrow. Grief, on the other hand, is such an all-encompassing experience that it can’t be boiled down into a single simple word. While that may work to describe other feelings, no one word will ever be able to come close to describing grief. No matter what, any word used will fall short of capturing the profound feelings of loss humans can experience. Grief is immeasurable and indescribable which is why it is such a powerfully poetic experience.

Just like there is no one way to experience grief, there is no one way to write a poem. Poetry has no limits or qualifications. Ten-page ballads can be just as poetic as single word expressions. As long as it has a root in something innately human, almost anything can be described as a poem. The humanity of it is what sets poetry apart from prose, which is why such a deeply human experience like grief is poetic.

Perhaps one of the best examples of the duality of grief is Yusef Komunyakaa’s “The Towers”. Though the poem is explicitly addressed to his deceased son in the first line, most Americans who read it can relate to the hopelessness conveyed in the poem. Komunyakaa’s focus is on the death of his son which was a deeply personal occurrence. No person on this planet felt his son’s death the same way he did. However, he framed his son’s death with an event so widely felt that it’s still remembered every year almost two decades later. 9/11 is so ingrained into American culture that even people who were months old when the tragedy occurred still feel the residual grief from the massive amount of deaths incurred. We can see that Komunyakaa made a deliberate choice to frame the poem this way since his son didn’t die during 9/11. If he was confined to using prose to describe his son’s death, Komunyakaa wouldn’t have been able to tap into the grief of an entire nation to compare to the grief he felt like the father of a dead child. By moving away from the literal emotional pain of losing his child and using the more abstract pain felt from a national tragedy he made his pain clearer to a wider audience. Not everyone has experienced the loss of a child, but we all feel the effects of 9/11.

Using poetry to convey his grief was a perfect choice for the audience to truly understand what he was going through. It was also a good choice for Komunyakaa himself. By tapping into his emotions and putting them into words, he must have relieved some of his grief and come closer to closure. By the end of the poem, it seems as if Komunyakaa is finally letting go of his son when he writes “No, I’m not Daedalus, but I’ve walked miles in a circle, questioning your wings of beeswax & crepe singed beyond belief.” He acknowledges that he is still mourning, comparing it to walking miles but ending up in the same place again and again because he is stuck in the cycle of grief. His use of past tense (“I’ve”) shows that he’s since stepped out of the circle, perhaps because he’s finally found the answer to his son’s singed wings of beeswax and crepe. Like Daedalus, Komunyakaa, too, had to work through his grief to keep flying. He lost his son so early that he used the poem to breathe life into him one last time. For Komunyakaa to get closure, he’d at least need to see his son thrive in some way before the child was finally laid to rest in his father’s mind. He gave his son “wings… agile & unabashedly decorous,” literally letting his son soar and thrive in poetry the way he wasn’t able to do in life before his wings turn to “beeswax & crepe singed beyond belief” and his life ends.

Poetry is so profound that even just a couple of lines detailing a simple step by step routine can be turned into a deep look into severed relationships. Robert Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays” is really about just that: his speaker’s routine on Sunday mornings during the winter. It could be read as prose, but that would be doing an injustice to the work. Yes, the basis of the poem is the literal things he and his family would do, but the spacing of the lines combines with the tone of his poem to create the scene of an emotionally strained family. In a way, Hayden’s speaker uses the poem to mourn his relationship with his father. Though he is not literally dead, his son still grieves his father’s life, one that has been spent on labor so grueling that his “cracked hands… ached”. We know that the speaker is talking about the past, and he acknowledges that he did not have a close relationship with his father. Instead, he’d speak “indifferently to him,/ who had driven out the cold/ and polished [his] good shoes as well.” Though at the time the speaker did not mourn his father and their relationship (which we can ascertain from his indifference towards his father), we can see that he feels that he should have been mourning the relationship at the time, maybe just so he could appreciate it while he had it. Obviously, he did not understand the father who would wake so much earlier than his son simply to warm the room and polish shoes. At that time in the past, the speaker couldn’t comprehend that that was the way his father showed his love. Later in his life, he finally understands, but perhaps too late. He ends his poem by saying“What did I know, what did I know/ of love’s austere and lonely offices?” implying that he never was able to understand his father’s displays of affection in time to return the feelings. Though we don’t know that his father is dead, we can glean that he is no longer in contact with him. With the short, blunt sentences Hayden uses, he casts a bitter tone over his wasted relationship with his father. The way he ends the first stanza sets the tone for the entire poem: “No one ever thanked him”, “him” being the speaker’s father. All of these factors come together to show a man grieving not only his separation from his father but the life his father lived with a son who spoke with him coldly and didn’t consider the sacrifices that he made for him. The son mourns the relationship that could have been if only he had seen how much his father cared for him earlier. This poem is a perfect example of how poetry can be used to work through several kinds of grief, including grieving what could have been: a healthy relationship with one’s son, a life spent on the kind of love that inspires community rather than isolation, or maybe even simply a life that consists of more than hard labor and waking up early on your days off for an unappreciative son.

Poetry can even be used to grieve one’s own self. The previous two poems mentioned both showed the grieving of those who have passed away and the more abstract relationships that could have come to be. Mark Strand’s “Keeping Things Whole” is much more poetry-like than “The Towers” and “Those Winter Sundays”. The first two detailed things that actually happened and arranged them into a way where they were more poetry than prose. If a few of their words were moved around and rephrased, their poems could possibly lose the strangeness that makes them poetry and become simple prose that doesn’t come close to conveying the emotions they convey in their poetic forms. “Keeping Things Whole” is pure poetry. If there was a physical scale of the literary versus the literal, his poem would drop the literary side faster than a brick. Every poem has some sort of “strangeness”, and when it comes to this one, that “strangeness” is basically the entire poem.

“In a field

I am the absence

of field”

can’t be twisted into something that actually happens. The fact that it is untouched by the literal makes the poem so purely melancholy that it inspires weeping in some readers (including, as you know, the author of this paper). When I try to think of the thoughts that would inspire poetry like this, I picture someone who feels grief so deep that no real-world comparison will do. Though it’s never explicitly stated, Strand perfectly conveys the emotions of someone grieving themself. Technically none of it makes sense, but the second one starts thinking poetically, the lines scream that the poet feels like he is someone who is fundamentally missing. He grieves himself, and the fact that he cannot seem to find himself, and “This is/ always the case”. The final stanza is especially raw and wrought with emotion:

We all have reasons

for moving.

I move

to keep things whole.

Not only does he convey the grief that he feels, but he also makes the reader grieve him. The image of someone who feels so empty that they see themselves as what is missing is so profoundly sad that I can’t come up with words that do it justice. The reader’s mourn along with Strand for the selfless person who never lets themselves stay in one place too long and find himself for fear of being “what is missing”. Someone who keeps moving to allow the air “to fill the spaces/ where [his] body’s been” is so self-sacrificing that they would rather never find themself to keep the world whole for others rather than cure his sense of self-loss. The way that he mourns himself paints the picture of someone who could be so valuable to society if only he would allow himself the chance to find a community. It’s hard to stop one’s self from grieving along with Strand for someone who so obviously cares about others but can’t find enough of themselves to know, let alone care for.

Poetry is perhaps the best way to put grief into words. For Yusef Kamanyakaa, he was able to change his son’s death from a “sad” event to something that inspired the image of “throbbing searchlights”, conveying a hopeless tone that the literal words with the same tone (like “hopeless”) would never be able to convey the same level of loss he was experiencing. He was able to not only work through the literal grief for his son but also to put it into words. Hayden grieved his relationship with his father and Strand his relationship with himself, both leaning into the poetic to fully convey the depth of their grief. No amount of technical language would ever be able to come close to even a single line of poetry describing profound emotions, especially grief. To mourn is to tap into humanity, and to write poetry is to let that tap run.

#jfc this is actually so bad i wrote it day of #but the idea behind it was spicy #written one yr ago #og #emptying notes #essays #long post

13 notes · View notes

thepinkcar · 5 years

Note

Hi!! I love your writing so much! Would you be able to do a part 2 of Love in the Dark? Thank you so much!

By popular request, why not!

—

Two Ghosts

pairing: reader x timothée

words: 1K

Part 1

Two years moves fast once you find yourself again. The feeling is a comfortable weight as you sit in your local bar’s makeshift backstage. Usually performances had you jittery and chatting with the band, exchanging laughs before tumbling out onto the small stage. The hobby turned side gig had only been a part of your life for a little over a year now. After you had walked away from Timothée almost two years ago, you found yourself picking up writing again. Before you knew it, your small poems became full fledged songs, you started to play your old guitar after letting it collect dust while traveling the past few years, and you were getting sporadic bookings for shows around your city. You even released a homemade EP that was met with an overwhelming amount of commercial success that sparked the interest of some bigger name labels.

But there was no way in hell you were ever going anywhere near the entertainment industry side of things ever again.

Tonight’s gig was a little different than usual since you’d decided to do a few covers before being on your way for the night—you owed the manager a favor. As the time approaches, you and the band settle yourselves on stage while the manager bounds up giddily to introduce you.

“How’re y’all doin’ tonight?” he hollers, overly gesticulative. You bite back a laugh at the familiar energy while the bar crowd gives an equally energized hoot. “Now this young lady over here is a real treasure, let me tell you. And she’s giving us the pleasure of hearing her play some songs tonight!” The crowd cheers and you grin humbly, bowing your head.

“Are y’all ready?” you say smoothly, resisting the urge to cringe at your own drawl. With another round of cheers, the drummer starts the beat as you launch into your set. The setlist was laidback with folkier tunes—ballads from Hozier, melodies from the Lumineers, and the always-welcome authenticity of Kacey Musgraves. It wasn’t until the last song that you felt your heart constrict.

“This is our last song for the night. A song that’s meant a lot to me the past couple of years, a kindred spirit to my own music. This one is Two Ghosts.” The drums tumble in as the guitars and bass follow. You take a breath and let your eyes close, singing the first verse earnestly. “Same lips red, same eyes blue, same white shirt, couple more tattoos. But it's not you and it's not me.”

It takes every thing in you not to cry around the chorus, all the feelings of months ago coming in a rush. Your eyes open again and you see in the corner of your eye a new group of people crowding around the bar. They’re rowdy young men, attempting to whisper in a way only drunk people do. You can only make out one of their faces, forest eyes watching you like he had seen a ghost. You pull away, playing your guitar solo before turning your attention on him completely.

“We're not who we used to be. We don't see what we used to see. We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.” You see Timothée finally return from his shock, his shoulders tensing as he stands straighter. You turn your attention back to the rest of the bar as you croon the last to lines, the final chords hitting their ears. As your met with applause you wave goodbye, following your bandmates off stage. You try to ignore the itch of Timothée’s presence along with the slew of questions bouncing around your brain.

“I almost didn’t recognize you. Your look is so…different.” You snort, giving yourself a once over. The ripped jeans and flowy button up paired with golden chains and multiple rings on your fingers was definitely edgier than the a-line dresses and Mary Jane style heels you used to wear when you were with Timothée. This felt more like you.

“Well you haven’t seen me in awhile.”

“With reason,” Timothée says lowly. You raise a brow, taking a sip from your drink. You had decided to join him at the bar instead of hiding in the shadows until he left with his entourage and out of your life once again. There was something satisfying about his restless state; for once he was the lost one in the crowded room.

“What are you doing in Jersey, T? What’s for you here?” Your voice is even but cold. Timothée shrugs.

“Visiting old friends. I didn’t know you’d be playing tonight, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You hum, satisfied with what seemed to be honesty. You watched him more closely, taking in the familiar mess of curls and lanky figure. His face had matured but he was still lacking in the facial hair. A grin tugs at your lips.

“Well, was I at least any good?” you joke, taking another sip. Timothée smiles, relieved at the lack of interrogation.

“Absolutely phenomenal. I was blown away. You have a calling or something,” he says earnestly. You roll your eyes and wave your hand dismissively.

“Definitely not. I’m not going anywhere near industry people ever again.” He laughs bitterly, his smile becoming more of grimace. You take a longer sip.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Genuinely. The way I treated you—“

“Timmy…”

“No, let me finish!” You jump when he raises his voice. “Sorry, but I need you to understand how absolutely awful I feel about how things ended. I never meant for things to go the way they did. I love you so much and I should have never put you through the pain of making you doubt that.” His jade eyes watched you intensely, but you could see his nose begin to tinge pink.

“I never doubted you loved me. I just didn’t think it mattered.” You see a rollercoaster of emotion read across his face until he crashes into heartbreak. You feel a lump form in your throat. “Don’t you get it? That’s what made it worse. You loved me and you still hid me away like I was shameful or something. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was sick of feeling like I was never really enough for you.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what! It’s the truth Timothée! You can’t just—“

Everything sped up and slowed down all in one swift motion as he pulled you close, lips catching yours. A slow tender kiss to compliment the rapid beat of your heart and his jittery fingers. You pull away, blush heating your cheeks. Timothée appears equally shocked.

“I, uh, I still love you. I know it’s too late to fix things and that things have changed but I need you to know that. You’re perfect to me and I’m sorry I was such a fucking idiot but I’m absolutely crazy about you still,” he says breathlessly. You stare at him in bewilderment, a smile growing on your face. Before you can stop it, your cackling. Timothée looks at you curiously and grins, allowing himself to chuckle hesitantly.

“You’re such a drama king, Timmy, “ you snicker, finishing your drink before getting up. You see a flash of fear cross TImothée’s. “You’re lucky that I love you so much.” He beams, sitting up straighter.

“You still love me?”

“Always. But I need more time. We both do,” you answer softly. Timothée nods slowly, pausing for moment. You begin to walk backstage again. You need to get home soon, especially now that you have a lot to think over.

“Y/N?” You stop, turning back.

“Yes, T?”

“Two Ghosts, is that your favorite?” he asks. You’d almost swear he sounds melancholy.

“Sweet Creature. Sweet Creature’s my favorite.”

#timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chamalet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet #call me by your name #cmbyn #beautiful boy #the king #a rainy day in new york #little women #dune #imagine #imagines #request #submit

173 notes · View notes

sandersideslibrary · 5 years

Text

A Librarians Book

Written for the 2019 Reverse! Big Bang! The image description that prompted this [Virgil standing on a cliff at night, overlooking the water]

Beach side town, small but quaint, a summer tourist town, was a port city, historical relevance and attraction, was always a place where people congregate. There are Stories here, of ghosts and good folk, of summer love and loss. And Virgil's just a part of that

Yay! Its finished!

This has been my active writing project for the past 3 months and i am quite happy with how this has turned out. I literally finished typing this up after my final today, so if there are any spelling mistakes please let me know, if there is anything that should be tagged in regards to triggers or squicks, also let me know.

the drawing that inspired this 13000 W behemoth is @panicjester on tumblr, check out the work, it's pretty neat! And this whole thing was hosted by @sanderssidesfanfiction, the whole reverse event should be reblogged to @ss-reverse-bang , this is also posted to my Ao3, Stedler2 (k9cat)

it counts as being posted on the day if its before 12, right?

The Librarians Book

Virgil saw a leaf fall on the ground yesterday, half brown and not dry enough to crunch. He wished it was crunchable, because it would have been a distraction for a moment. He’d be alone till the temperature dropped to single digits once again, when winter truly would be in the air. But right now, it was just Autumn, and he was alone.

His town was a small seaside location, pretty coastal views mixed with historical events made for a pretty secure tourist location. Summer was always the busiest with festivals and crowded sands, spring was quite nice also. Mostly for the flowers that bloomed and the renewed interest in going outside. Winter was chilly, but never biting cold. The waves grew choppy and dark, but it was a peaceful time where everyone and everything rested for a while. Yet Autumn, was just Autumn, dead leaves and dead grass. The end of some really nice days and the start of some gray skies that covered up the stars.

He still went to the cliff like usual though.

The cliff was actually a really nice location, just outside of the between where sandy beaches started and the protected port laid, all within walking distance of his home and his work at the library. It wasn’t a very popular location. There were multiple stories of how people saw ghosts or seen weird stuff going on up there, and it was generally warned to just not go there.

Virgil liked the stories, he didn’t mind them at all, and he found them quite fun. It was also good on the part that it kept tourists and locals away more often than not.

He just wished Autumn was a little less lonely though. A particularly chilly wind gust cut through his jacket, pricking his skin with goosebumps and numbing his fingers on his ukulele. He sat on the rock watching the sun set, waiting for the stars to shine, and to bring him a friend.

A Scholars Story

Virgil was incredibly excited that morning when he read that his thermometer said it was only plus 9 degrees outside.

Single digits.

Winter was here.

He bundled up in his thick hoodie and pulled a toque over his ears. It was a quick walk to his work at the library with a bound in his step. The day passed relatively quickly and he self checked out a couple new books about astronomy that had come in during the summer. It looked to be a perfect night for stargazing. The sun was slowly setting as he made his way to the cliff. The forecast called for a clear night; he couldn’t wait to look at the stars.

The water shimmered with the last days light, a golden sunset in all the words. The breeze was light but the smell of the sea nipped at his nose all the same with the chill. The large flat rock was still slightly warm from the sun’s kiss, and so he settled there till he saw the first twinkle of star shimmer in the inky black night sky. The gently lapping waves way below a calm pattern and reflecting the moons borrowed light just like the water did the sun.

He looked to his right and found Logan there, telescope supported on its stand like usual, head turned upwards as usual, gazing to the stars above them.

“Hey Lo.”

“Greetings Virgil.” He replied, not looking away from the stars.

“Anything new happening?”

“For me, it has been the same. You know that. But I suppose you are asking that so that I may ask you in return. It has been a while, has it not?”

“Just been a year, like any other. The library did get some new astronomy books on over the summer, and I did check them out, so what do ya say?”

“New books? What kind?”

Virgil smiled at the piqued interest in Logan’s voice. “Two are some advancements in the field and new discoveries, and one about poetry actually, which one?”

“It never fails to amaze me how much your age had furthered the study of the stars, especially when I was only ever able to look through a telescope. But new poetry just for the stars, please read me that one first.”

“I still think you were born in the wrong time Logan,” Virgil said as he pulled out the slim book, plastic gold foil of the cover slightly crinkling at being moved.

“You have said that before, but I have no qualms on such sentiment. If it were not for me and my forefathers your world would not be what it is today.”

“I guess, but I hope you remember what I read about Pioneer 10, it’s part of the title for the first poem.”

“I believe I do, but if I don’t, I know you will remind me.” Logan didn’t look away when Virgil started to read the book aloud.

“Okay,” Virgil cleared his voice. “Pioneer 10, I Here You...”

~*~

Most of Virgil’s evenings were spent that way in the winter. It never truly became to cold, never below freezing, but close enough and especially at night, to want a thicker coat and gloves. Sitting on the largest rock of the circle that was facing, pointing out to the sea to watch the sun set, and if he was lucky, on clear nights Logan would be there, and Virgil would read. The nights of overcast and drizzles were lonely, with Virgil going back to his home after work, knowing Logan wouldn’t be there when the stars couldn’t be seen.

~*~

The moon was half way to waning and the lights of the town were low, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The cold air nipped at his ears and redden his cheeks for him, and he shivered a little bit. It was a perfect night for stargazing, or for reading a book by flashlight.

“Virgil.” Logan interrupted his reading, and Virgil looked up from the textbook he was reading aloud. “You are shivering, and it is getting quite late at night. You should go to your home.” Logan kept his eyes on the sky.

“It’s not that cold out-” Virgil tried to defend himself, just as a large bout of shivers ran through him at the wind gust. “Plus, you’ll still be here. And in just an old coat too.”

“You know that I do not feel the cold, and my attire makes absolutely no difference in whether I will be here or not. Even if you think it is centuries old, it still looks quite nice. I can not say the same for your jacket.”

“Hey! At least I can keep updated with the fashion of the times, and, I don’t want you to feel lonely.” Virgil spied a hint of a smile playing on Logan’s lips.

“I appreciate your concern. But as I have told you before, I do not really get lonely. I was here was before you found me, and I am sure that I will still be here when you can no longer come.”

“What do you mean by that?” Virgil asked, almost sounding offended.

“It is only logical that as time goes on, you develop. Life evolves, and I have to admit, as much as this small town has grown, it is still a small town, and you are bright Virgil. I can not help but see you go far beyond this place. This world could use a mind like yours.” Logan’s voice held a hint of melancholy, eyes never straying from the stars.

“So, you’re saying I’d just jump ship on this town and never come back?”

“Well, not exactly-” Logan attempted to backtrack.

“That’s what it sounds like, but honestly, I enjoy it here. It’s quiet, it’s fun here during the summer and no one else that lives here knows how to manage the library properly or the museum. So, it’s safe to say that I’ll be here for some time. Plus, I’d like to see Halley’s Comet too.” Virgil smiled, fixing the hood on his jacket.

“I just do not want to see you stuck here like me,” Logan admitted. “As I said, I don’t really get lonely, but I do know that it has been a long time for me. And I am worried I may never be able to leave. I do not want that for you.”

Virgil was quiet for a moment before replying. “Logan, you know I can’t get stuck here like you. I’m alive, your…” Virgil trailed off for a moment, Logan unable to look away from the stars, hummed a low note.

“I promise I won’t get stuck here. If an opportunity pops up, and I’ll let you know if I plan to move, okay?” Logan nodded. “And even if I do move, I’ll make sure to be here with you for the comet.”

“When is the next date again?”

“I think it’s around 2061, every 75- 76 years. So, another 40 years or so till it’ll be here. Not that long in the scheme of time.”

“That would be nice, to not be here, and finally get some rest.” Logan said quietly, almost whispering into the quiet night.

“Yes, it would, wouldn’t it? I can’t imagine how long it has been for you.”

“Nor could have I if I were in your shoes. I do not really get lonely, but being alone for a long time can, mess with someone’s thinking. I do not know how sane I would be anymore if you had not seen me. It is easy to drift and loose yourself if there is nothing to ground you.”

“I’m glad I didn’t freak-out, and that’s what friends are for, keeping each other sane.”

“You consider us friends?” Logan sounded perplexed at the idea.

“Well, yah, why not? We talk, we hang out, social peers as you would probably say.”

��I suppose we do fit the criteria for friends. But answer me this one question please.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“You have more than just me as a friend, correct? Other people you socialise with?”

“Where did that question come from? I called you my friend?”

“Virgil, you are avoiding the question.”

“Well, I guess I do. There’s Remy. They work at the café on Main street. And I guess there’s Dee, he, well. He’s more of an acquaintance than anything. Why do you wonder?”

“It is the middle of winter, end of the year, and holidays, you do celebrate, do you?” Virgil half shrugged; Logan took that for his answer. “And I just wanted to know that you had family to spend time with. Or at least will not be completely alone for the few days.”

“Oh,” Virgil trailed off, the wind blew and he shivered, clouds could be seen on the far horizon. They gathered low, dark and brooding. “I heard on the forecast that there’s supposed to be a storm rolling in, and it might get cold enough to actually snow. Instead of freezing rain and sleet.” Virgil started on the new topic.

“Really, that would be an interesting phenomenon to see.” Logan replied.

“It would cloud over the sky though. You wouldn’t be out to see it.”

“Maybe it will last long enough for me then, stay frozen on the ground.”

“You still can’t see it that way either though. I’ll take a photo for you, and show you it then.”

“Yes, that would be nice. Photography is such a wonder. Your time has surprised me in more than one way.”

“Ya, I guess it has.” Virgil stayed till the clouds rolled in and Logan was no longer there.

He shivered all the walk home.

~*~

The storm hit hard early morning. Enough that the roads were horrendous to drive and it was way to slippery to walk. For a place that never received snow that often, four inches of white wet frozen snow halted the town, especially with a hidden ice rink under the fluff.

Virgil took many photos for Logan. I looked like a frozen wonderland, with snow and ice stuck to everything. By the time the clouds cleared away for an empty night sky, ten days has passed. The snow had gone to mush, mostly frozen piles of ice and scraped up dirt and leaves from shovels were left.

Logan said the photos were aesthetically pleasing as Virgil held up his phone in front of his gaze.

~*~

It rained over the holidays. Virgil wished he could have visited Logan this year.

~*~

New Years Eve had clear skies. The town was planning fireworks, to be set off from a barge in the pier, and everyone was planning to go to the boardwalks to watch.

Virgil went to the cliff. He packed a blanket to sit on, and a thermos full of coffee.

“Is it New Years already?” Logan asked from his spot as Virgil laid out the blanket. “Time goes so quick, yet so slow.”

“Yes, it is, they’re planning on setting off the fireworks at midnight, so not that long.”

“Fireworks, those are the colourful pyrotechnics, correct?”

“They sure are.” Virgil huffed a laugh at Logan’s wondering. “They’re setting them off from a barge just a little way in the water.”

“Why are you here then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you not with your community? Should it not be more fun to view them with everyone else?” Logan sounded befuddled.

“Because I want to be with you, you are a part of the community, and you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I am not much more than a story Virgil. I do not know how much that makes me a part of the community.”

“Well, I think you are part of my community. If you’re a story as you say, then there’s no one better to be here than a librarian. Plus, the fireworks would be really cool to see from here, if nothing less.” Virgil shrugged. “How are you tonight, any resolutions?”

“I am the same as always Virgil, and I am not really in any position that I would be able to fulfill a resolution. But I know I can ask you the same. How are you, any resolutions?”

Virgil held back a laugh as Logan parroted his phrasing back at him. “I guess I’m okay. Funding for the library is a little tight right now, but the fiscal year end is coming soon, so a new budget should soon be proposed. Work stress is just being put on top of regular stress, and just a little more anxious than average, but its nothing worrisome right now. For resolutions, I guess darker eyeshadow? I’ve, I’ve been looking at stuff like that, trying to gain confidence and better self care. But I’m already doing that, so it’s not really a resolution, but more of a goal I’m working toward.”

“That sounds like a very well planned out goal, and I think you will be quite successful, since you are already perusing and actively working towards your goal.”

“Thanks, teach, that’s nice to hear from someone else.”

“You are welcome, you do not-” A pop and bang interrupted Logan, bright colours from the fireworks lighting up the sky beside the stars as they shot up before fizzing out. Cheers and music could be heard echoing off the water from the docks.

Virgil quickly checked his phone, 12 on the dot. “Happy New Years Logan.”

“Happy New Years Virgil, I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“Is the custom of kissing a loved one still in practice?”

“Yes, it is. Thinking of someone?”

“In a sort. He is now long gone, and I never really understood the wants of passion, but I miss greatly his company.”

“You never really have talked about your life before.”

“I honestly do not recall much. Being as I am, there is not much of me left to remember. I knew I left for research, to study the new land and stars, and that I said I would be back, but time has faded memories a lot. I know I liked his smile, and I thought his eyes were pretty, but I can no longer remember his face. O think sometimes, that if I had not met you Virgil, I would have been long gone a while ago, wandering, and lost. Even recently, I find myself forgetting integral parts of who I was. It is quite disconcerting to say the least.”

“Hey, its okay if your lost, I was lost once too, in a way. Not like you, but still lost, and I had people to help me. I’ll be here to help you; life sucks a lot less now.”

“That is very kind of you to say, thank you.”

“No problem, I’ll always be here to help.” Virgil replied, sitting beside Logan, watching the stars while everyone celebrated down below.

~*~

The rest of the winter faired a lot nicer, the occasional rain melted away the rest of the snow piles, and Virgil made trips up to the cliff as he could at night when the skies were clear enough for Logan to be there.

Today, grey clouds arrived late afternoon, bringing scattered drizzles and Virgil was disappointed.

He finished reading the last book the other day, and he was excited for the new read, getting into some writing by Steven Hawking, but that won’t happen till the skies cleared. Which made enough time for Virgil to visit one of the two cafés in town.

“Bonjour!” Remy called from behind the counter. “The usual Virgil?”

“Hello,” Virgil responded with his own greeting. “No, actually. Just a mug of hot chocolate, please.”

“What? No coffee this time? Girl, what’s happenin’ to you?” they laughed.

“Dunno, I feel like I might get to sleep earlier in to night today.” He said as he found change to pay for the drink.

“So, no three am treks to the cliff tonight then? What do you do out there anyways? I know I stay out late sometimes and wander the town, but that cliff is a hecka weird place.” Remy moved behind the counter once he ringed in the price, steaming milk and mixing the ingredients. Virgil just shrugged his shoulders.

“Its more like 12 o’clock walks, and I just read, watch the stars, play music, not much really.”

They shook their head as they handed over the finished drink, whipped cream drizzled with chocolate and confetti sprinkles finished it off. “Even with all the stories of ghosts and kind folk, you still go up there. I swear, one day you’ll go up and never come back down.”

“I haven’t disappeared yet, but if I do, I’ll let you know, kay?” Virgil smirked.

Remy glared. “That doesn’t even make any sense, that sentence!”

“You just don’t see the world like I do. I’d let you know if I’m gone.” Virgil picked up the mug with a gesture, saying thank you, effectively ending the conversation and finding a comfy seat by the window, watching the rain drip down outside.

~*~

The weather had warmed up greatly, and plants were starting to green up. The slow transition from winter to spring was starting.

Virgil got a couple more nights with Logan in, and he left him with a smile and a promise for tomorrow night to finish the chapter they were currently in the middle of. On the way home, night lit by stars and the moon, he saw a prairie crocus peeking out of the small green leaves that nestled the purple petals. The first flower of spring. Virgil knew he wouldn’t see the Ghost again till next winter. He wasn’t sad, he’d see Logan again next year, but this also meant that he’d see another friend he had not seen in a year.

A Fae’s Tale

Virgil forced himself to wake up way early, just after sunrise, getting a scant few hours in.

It would be worth it.

He packed his backpack with a blanket and a small stuffed dog, and a lunch bag packed with honey, apples, sliced cheese and crackers, just enough for a small snack for two.

The walk up to the cliff was a little nippy, the wind giving a cool breeze off the ocean. It was pretty out now that the sun had risen and early morning gulls were starting to squawk and call about.

He found Patton like he always did, crouched over a purple crocus that was peeking out from the dried grass. Their attention was solely focused on the first bloom of spring as he walked around the ring of rocks to the largest one at the crest of the cliff, right beside where Logan usually stood. Virgil set down his bag, small smile creeping over his face as he watched Patton and called out to him.

“Hi Patton.” The response was immediate as they looked up. Large smile bright and rosy, and cheeks kissed with freckles by the early morning sun. They bounced up and bounded over to the edge of the ring, almost stepping over but gracefully catching themselves before they did.

“Hi Kiddo! Long time no sea, right?” they giggled out, and from the closer distance he could see each freckle and smell the waft of fresh strawberries and wet grass, earthy and simple and it always made Virgil forget what he was going to say next. Patton was just, different.

“Uhh, ya, since, since the last day of spring, right?” Virgil stammered out, and he saw their bright smile fall. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“Yes! You didn’t laugh at my pun! Long time no sea, sea, like the water behind you, and I saw you after a long while. You’re no fun if you don’t get my jokes!” they pouted.

“Oh. Oh!” Virgil gasped in realization. “I get it now. That was a really clever one. It went right over my head. Do you accept my apology?” He asked. He watched Patton tilt their head thoughtfully, fluff of golden hair falling over their honey brown and emerald green eyes. A moment passed before the sun returned their smile. “Of course! Apology accepted. I wouldn’t want anything happening to my favourite human, would I?” they teased, bouncing up and down in place on their toes. Virgil hoped they were teasing at the last statement, sometimes it was difficult to tell what was supposed to be a joke and what was actual talk. He smiled and nodded anyways.

“Since it really has been quite some time, and its your first day of spring, I thought I would visit you for a little bit, till I have to go to work at 9. I’ll have to leave in a little bit, but would you care for some breakfast with me? But if you want to, that is, as friends?” he asked carefully, experience making it easy to step around and follow the rules.

Patton’s smile relaxed. “Oh, I would be delighted.”

Virgil pulled out the lunch bas and they both sat down at the rock like at a dining table. The tense air dispersed as formalities were met. Virgil pulled out the food, mixing and matching the toppings on the crackers.

Patton giggled as they picked up a cracker with all three toppings placed on top, it sounded like bells chiming in the wind. “Your foods are always so interesting and funny. But they’re still good.” They ate the cracker in one bite.

“What’s so funny about my food? I thought you liked cheese.” Virgil asked as he chose his own cracker snack.

“Oh, I do love cheese, don’t worry about that,” they picked up a few slices and ate them to prove that point, smile a bit sharper than should normally be. “But its funny how you get it. Apples aren’t in season yet, and the honey isn’t from the local flowers. Its just. Funny.” They shrugged a shoulder and picked up another cracker.

“I guess it is funny in a way, but that’s how everyone had food these days. I go to work at the library and earn money, and I use that money to pay for things I need, like food. And those who make food makes a lot of it so we all have some all year long, till it grows again.” Virgil answers.

“I know that, silly. We have markets too, but the food is always in season, and stuff never goes to waste, and we don’t put it in silly boxes like you guys do either. Its funny, those who make your food are very silly.”

Virgil nodded. “Ya, they are really silly,” he picked up a cracker, and then put it back down, somewhat fiddling with how the apple slice and cheese were layered on top of each other.

“Did I say something wrong now?” he could here Patton’s smile fall again. Virgil glanced up and their eyes were looking right at him, he couldn’t not tell the truth.

“No, you didn’t, it just reminds me that there’s not much I can do to stop other people from being, silly, with stuff as important as food, and it’s a lot to talk about on such little sleep.”

“Oh, I apologise-” Patton spoke.

“Already forgiven.” Virgil replied before they had even finished.

“And why then, do you have such little sleep?” Patton’s sweet-sounding voice asked.

“I- I stayed up really late last night, but I also woke early to see you, so, so I didn’t get much sleep.” His words felt like they were sliding out of his mouth.

“Aww, that is so kind of you, kiddo, but I’d really rather you have a good night’s sleep and feel good the rest of the day than not feel good at all. You humans need sleep to keep healthy, right?” their voice was like sweet cinnamon rolls and honey dripping. He nodded his head earnestly. Patton’s smile returned sharply. “Okay then, can you promise me that you’ll do better to get a good night’s sleep?”

“I- I don’t-” Virgil tried to blink the fogginess out of his eyes, the world cleared up around him a little bit.

“Oh, please Vee, for Me?” their smile was a little to sharp looking.

“I’m sorry, I can’t make any promises, you know what Patton.” Virgil leaned back, rubbing the magic out of his eyes.

Patton seemed to deflate a little, shoulders sagging. “But I want you to be happy. You are so tired that my pun flew over your head. That’s not happy. You don’t feel happy at all right now.” Their voice had lost its syrupy sweetness.

“No, its not, but it's also promising to do something that I know I can’t keep. I don’t get sleep easily sometimes, even if I want it.” Virgil sighed, his own shoulders sinking.

“That’s no fun at all.” Patton pouted.

“No, its not.” Virgil agreed. “I can’t promise you anything, but I can say that I’ll try to do better though, get back on an early bedtime schedule, okay?”

Their smile returned and Patton nodded. “Those words are good for now.”

“What was that voice thing you did Patton?” Virgil asked.

“Voice thing?”

“Ya, when your voice-” A sharp buzzing ring interrupted Virgil and they both jumped at the alarm. Virgil fumbled to pull his phone out of his pocket, silencing the alarm. “I have to go now; I start work in half an hour.” He moved to pack away the unused snacks. He left the finished crackers where they were though. Virgil was just about to stand up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder when Patton called out.

“Wait! I think I have something better than just words.” They took a moment, looking around at the purple crocuses near the rock, and plucked one, the delicate stem held between their fingers and then tucked behind his ear when Patton beckoned Virgil to lean forward. His purple dyed hair complementing the flower, and Patton pecked a quick kiss on his forehead. “There, now you’ll have a good day, and a good night’s rest, okay?” Patton beamed.

“I can’t make any promises, but I can try my best.” Virgil answered, smile playing across his own lips.

“That’s all I ask for!” Virgil stood up. He knows he has to leave now or else the would both get stuck talking and laughing with each other.

The rest of the day went pleasantly well, despite his lack of sleep. And the flower did not wilt one bit. Virgil fell asleep easily and early that night.

~*~

Waking up the next morning was easy, even if the sun was rising earlier each day.

He only had the stuffed puppy he forgot to give on hand today as he made his walk up. The ring of rocks was empty when Virgil made it to the top of the cliff. All the crackers he left were gone. He placed the stuffed dog on the rock. He sat and watched gulls fly around and squawk at the waves and at the docks below the cliff for a while.

His phones alarm buzzed and he left for the library.

~*~

The purple flower still hadn’t wilted, and Virgil still had an almost to easy time falling asleep. The consistent sleep schedule really helped easy the dark shadows under his eyes, even though they didn’t fully go away. The stuffed animal was gone the next morning when Virgil arrived, even though there were no traces of Patton having been there.

The next couple days were the same. Virgil walked up to the cliff with no Patton there.

~*~

The flower was completely dried the next morning, wilted and brown. That piqued Virgil’s attention, and he was glad it was his day off. Virgil packed his backpack with the usual snacks and a blanket, and made his way to the cliff. The sun was bright early morning, a couple puffy white clouds whisked across the sky with the breeze carrying the salty smell of the ocean and the sweet perfume of the blooms that had sprouted up all over the field the cliff supported.

Patton was in their circle looking at the flowers that had sprouted up all around, wild daisies, lilies and other flowers he couldn’t identify were in all different stages of popping up from the ground, sprigs of green between dried brown.

“Hello Patton!” He called out causing them to look up. A bright smile stretched across their face.

“Hi Vee! Its lily to see you again!” they called out, skipping up to the large rock. Virgil noticed the crown of flowers weaved through their curly hair, it looked really cute on them.

“It’s lovely to see you again also Patton.” Virgil replied, catching the word play. Patton bounced and clapped their hands.

“Yay! You got it! It’s always a lot more fun when you get my puns.” Virgil sat down, prompting Patton to do the same, they immediately leaned forward, propping their head in their hands. “How are you?” they asked.

“Pretty okay, my sleep has been mostly consistent, the flower has wilted though, but it was nice while it lasted. Work has been annoying though. My co-worker Dee has not been helpful at all this past week, we are doing inventory and checking the condition of the stacks, and he’s not really doing a good job of it. And I don’t know if its because he doesn’t know how to do it properly or if he just does not like this work or if he’s mad at me for some reason, and it’s just, frustrating. Some of the assistants are complaining too and so… it’s just a small mess.” Virgil vented, running out of steam at the end. Patton didn’t blink the entire time, focused on Virgil.

“I thought something was feeling sad, want me to help?”

“No thank you Patton, there isn’t much anyone can do about this.”

“Don’t say that Kiddo! There is a lot you can do, even without my help! I can feel that this is making you frustrated, and it’s making you not happy in a place that usually has you feeling content. Let me help?” Patton’s voice took a honey hint at that last sentence.

“Well, I, Uh-” Virgil stuttered.

“Please, I can help make it better, but only if you let me, and let me help you.” Patton’s smile was gentle and their words sounded like caramel.

“I, I- No, I can’t let you Patton.” Virgil shook his head, clearing away the fuzziness. “And you got to stop that speech thing your doing.”

“Speech thing?” Patton sounded confused, and the sweetness to their words were gone.

“Yes, where whatever you say sounds so good, like candy, or something soft and it makes my head feel so weird, I don’t like it at all. And for the work thing, it stays that, a work thing. If it goes on any longer, I’ll talk to him and if that doesn’t resolve anything then I’ll be asking the director and we’ll sort it out from there. Okay?” Virgil explained.

“Ohh, okay.” Patton agreed. “I’ll leave your work thing alone.” That was the closest Virgil was ever going to get for a promise from Patton. “The word thing, its something I learned recently actually. It would translate to your language as ‘silver tongue’, it’s just a, really persuasive way of talking to others, I guess.” Patton tried to explain.

“Oh, that does make sense in a way, but it makes me feel really uncomfortable when you use it.”

“So, you don’t want me using it on you then?” They asked

“Yes,” Virgil nodded. “that is a firm boundary there. I’m just curious though, what can silver tongue all persuade a person to do?”

“Oh, lots of things Kiddo. Lots of other folk use it to ask for people's names, or to convince them to dance with them and other little things like that.” Patton shrugged a shoulder, leaning back from the rock.

“Oh, but you already know my name, so why use it?” Virgil sounded confused.

“I know that I have your name, but you can use it for more than just asking for a name, like asking permissions to help with something, especially if the person is stubborn and won’t accept help. Or you could be able to help calm someone down, by convincing them to not be angry, or to not be worried or scared. Lots of things. And I thought that if you were feeling really, really sad, that I could help you feel nicer for a bit. But you don’t like the feel of it so I won’t do it on you. I’d like you to be happy, but when you feel like it.” they extrapolated.

“Okay, that does sound really useful.”

“And that’s why I wanted to help! You could get Dee to not be a problem, and then you wouldn’t be sad.”

“You said you would not interfere, and I still do not want you to be involved either, lets just drop this topic, okay?”

“Okay, I won't bug you about it anymore.” Patton agreed.

“Thankyou,” Virgil pulled out his phone, it was only a few hours left till noon. “Do you just want to lay back and watch the clouds? I brought a blanket and I could use the relaxation.”

“Sure, you always make up such interesting shapes.” Virgil pulled out the blanket from his backpack and unfolded it with a toss, the fabric parachuting into a ruffled pile. Patton giggled and dragged the corner that landed on his side out, fitting the blanket half and half between the rocks.

They laid out side by side, and Virgil sighed as just the waves splashing below filled the air with sound besides the gull’s cries. It was peaceful. And if he dozed off for a bit under the sun, and woke up just after noon with no Patton in sight, and another crocus tucked behind his ear, that was okay.

~*~

One morning it was raining and Virgil held an umbrella all the way up the cliff. Patton was dancing, practically frolicking around in the falling water and grass that swayed in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, and even though he had to refuse their offer to dance Virgil still got wet spinning and jumping around in the wet. The spring flowers seemed to dance alongside them.

~*~

Virgil didn’t realize but Patton’s humming was like silver, in a good way though. It was glistening and smooth, and very, very pretty. He barely twitched as a new section of his hair was taken up and moved, locks of purple dyed strands being braided and weaved with the stems of the assorted wild flowers around them. Patton naming each and every one of them and speak singing the good properties and meanings each bloom meant, soft and gentle in between the lilting and wandering notes.

Sometimes, when Virgil payed enough attention, Patton’s humming sounded familiar, the wandering tunes echoing melodies of old songs sang by generations ago. Lullaby’s and folk tunes that were almost forgotten, but were remembered enough for festivals. Most times though, the music would sit in his ear, snippets of phrases and measures collected there till he wrote them down and plunked them out on his ukulele. Sometimes the music was nice, sometimes, it was better left played once.

Patton giggled, and Virgil cracked open one eye, seeing the bright eyes sparkle and freckles that splatter across their cheeks over top of him as he was reclined over the rock. He raised his brow, a silent ponder asked.

They shook their head, smile bright with another giggle. “Oh, its nothin’ kiddo! You just look so cute! Just good enough to gobble up!” they giggled again, and they caught the concerned look on Virgil. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t eat you, you’re safe from being eaten, I’d rather my favorite human be beside me, than inside of me.”

It took a moment for Virgil to find his voice. “Well… that’s comforting.”

“It is! Oh, I’m glad! Your flower crown is almost done, just lean back again and then you’ll match me!”

Virgil leaned back and closed his eyes against the bright mid morning sun. It was another few moments until the hands let up.

“Okay, you’re done, and you look so cute! Do you like it?” they asked.

Virgil sat up carefully, not wanting to mess up their hard work. He pulled out his phone and swiped to the camera. The white, light pink and purple toned flowers blended well with his dark brown and dyed purple colours, it really was beautiful. “This, this is really great. I love the colours; they go well with yours.” Patton’s flowers were mostly bright pink and yellow with the occasional blue bloom peaking through. It was quite an ethereal sight really, with the way the suns light lit up their cheeks and made their curly hair shimmer.

“Now since you have a crown, you can be a princess beside me, or a lord, what would your place be? For your gender, what are the words again?”

Virgil laughed lightly, finding the question humorous. “I don’t think I’d have a place of any significance, let alone be a prince, Patton.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’d be super important! You have all these stories and you always bring really neat stuff. You’d be a story keeper, and the lil’ ones would come up to you asking about the human world and you would explain it so well. Your important kiddo! Super important!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m not so sure…” Virgil ducked his head, trying to hide away the blush that was creeping across his cheeks.

“Well, I am very sure that you are important, since you are important to me. The court would love you; you could play your music for us and I’d get to dance with you. And we could play the day away and you’d never have to worry about not getting enough sleep. Oh! And you’d get to try my food, once you taste it, I’m sure you’d never want to leave. What do you say?” Patton gushed, and Virgil was speechless for a moment.

“Wow, uh, that- that’s really flattering, and it sounds wonderful. But, Patton, you know I can’t go over with you. As much as I would like to, I have made my own commitments and promises that I can’t break. When would I come back if I left with you?” Virgil asked.

“Well, I guess if you wanted to, spring and autumn would work.” Patton answered.

“Why then?

“Because I’m spring, I’m able to be here because of spring, and autumn because that’s your season, it just fits. And that’s when we’d be able to come here, in the morning, and then the evening.”

“No summer and daytime, no winter and night?” Virgil implored.

Patton shook their head no.

Virgil sighed. “Maybe in a different time of my life, but I can’t say anything right now. I’m sorry.” He said softly, seeing how Patton’s smile morphed into a sad look.

“I know,” they replied. “It’s just that I don’t want to lose you. You humans are so fragile and delicate and I can’t stand the idea of me not being able to help you. Sometimes, when you come, you feel so sad. And its really heavy like a storm cloud overtop or like a deep weight on your chest, and no matter how many puns I make your smiles don’t reach your eyes and your laughs are hollow. And then that makes me sad, and it stays that way for weeks until you feel better. Sometimes you are angry, or frustrated. Sometimes that’s at other people, but its also directed towards yourself, and you just make yourself feel worse. I don’t want that for you. Please don’t cry, if you cry, then I’ll cry, and that won’t make you happy.” Patton pouted, moving to reach over the rock between them, but Virgil was sat back just far enough away out of Patton’s reach.

Virgil shook his head; his sweaters sleeves bunched over his hands and was wiping away the tears that tracked down his cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, don’t be sorry, I made you cry, I never want you to cry.” Patton implored.

“It’s not your fault, I’m the one here that’s emotionally constipated and has a messed-up brain chemistry. General social anxiety can really mess over a person. It’s not your fault.”

“But I said stuff that made you cry!”

“But its things that are true. I am sad a lot of the time. I get so anxious at the thought of interacting with people, and then when I do interact with people, I’m not familiar with, I always mess up. But I know I could be doing better and I know I can do better, but it doesn’t always go well. So yes, I am frustrated at myself, and there are people at work that are not always the best to work with, and its very draining and my spoons for social interaction gets eaten up so quick its ridiculous. You just, reminded me of the truth that I try to forget sometimes, and I forget it easily when I’m up here. It was just… a small shock, I guess you could say.” Virgil fiddled with his hoodie’s sleeves, finding dry spots and rubbing away the salty tears as they escaped from his eyes. Patton had their own tears falling from their eyes. They held their arms out motioning for Virgil to get closer, as they moved to sit on their edge of the rock. Virgil sat down mirroring Patton.

“Oh kiddo, why didn’t you let me know before? I can help with that type of stuff, all you needed was to ask.”

“The thing is though Patton, I can’t ask for your help. I hate to say it but that the truth. I can’t rely on someone to fix all of my problems for me. I need to work on it myself if I want to truly get better, and be able to keep being better.”

“You have those other people helping your brain make the proper things, what is so different to me than that?”

“Other people?” Virgil was confused at the wording.

“Ya, you said one time that they had to check up on you, or that you were going to check up with them.” Patton tired to explain better.

“Oh, doctors, you mean doctors. They tell me how I am able to help myself, and help me get to a functional level, which is what my medication does. And if I stop the medication I fall back, they don’t do it for me, they just help me get there. I have to work at getting better, it doesn’t just happen for me.” Virgil explained, and Patton’s face just looked crumpled, they sniffed.

“That’s no fair, you humans are so silly sometimes. When someone in court gets sick, we have all the different types of magic that helps them get better really soon. You should be able to get better really soon also, and not have to work really hard to do it.”

“I hate to say it, but that’s the way it is right now. We have to work hard to get a lot of things better right now.”

“I hear you; I just want to help you though.”

“You do help me though.”

“I do?” Patton sounded hopeful at that statement.

“Of course. You make me laugh with your puns, and smile when there’s a good joke or you being happy. I forget about worry and stress and stupid work things when I’m up here, and I visit you. I enjoy your company, and seeing you does make my day go nicer. You’re my friend, and just that alone helps me.” Patton smiled, and it was like a weight over them was lifted off their chests. Patton leaned towards Virgil and Virgil leaned towards them, meeting in the middle of the rock, shoulder to shoulder.

“I am very happy to hear that I am able to help now, and just to let you know, any flowers picked from this cliff will stay pretty for you, okay?”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Virgil nodded, drying the last of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

~*~

The first true thunderstorm of the season happened at night, glass windows reverberating and rattling with the force of the soundwaves. Virgil sat by his bedroom window and watched the downpour hit the earth. The spring blooms and the sweet-smelling buds off his apple tree disappeared under the rains force. Lightning flashes illuminated the world for split seconds, and he wondered how Patton would dance to such percussive beats if he was here during the night. He wondered if Patton would be there in the morning with all the flowers almost gone.

~*~

“Is there any more cheese Vee?” Patton asked through a mouthful of aforementioned cheese and crackers.

“I’m pretty sure you ate the majority of it today.” Virgil replied, lifting his backpack to look inside. He shook his head. “Nope, there is none left.”

“Aww, you should bring even more next time.”

“Pat, that was a 500-gram block of cheese, you do understand that cheese costs money, right?”

“Sure, I do kiddo! You have money, you said that’s how you guys work your markets, right?”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Cheese is expensive, I have to pay a lot of money to not get much actual cheese in exchange. It takes a lot of time and work to make good cheese and for me to get it, I need to pay for that.”

“Oh, that seems weird, anybody should be able to get nice stuff, and not for those who have a lot and can buy it. anybody should be able to pay for it.”

“I know, that is… something we humans really need to work on.”

“Then why don’t you humans work on it?”

“Because those who have the money for the nice stuff are also usually the ones who are influential to the rule makers and are also able to make rules, so its not easy to work on it when some people don’t want it to change.”

“Oh…”

“Yah,”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Patton asked, scooping honey onto an apple slice.

“Me? Why do you say that!?” Virgil replied shocked at Patton’s statement.

“Why wouldn’t you be? You’re special, you’d get lots of people listening to you and then you’d fix stuff, and then you’d be able to buy more cheese.”

“Patton, it, doesn’t work like that. It would take so much work, so many people to go through, and lots of them have money, and I really don’t. I’m just a librarian from a small port town, practically a tourist trap, no one would listen to me.”

“If you keep saying bad things about yourself, I’m gonna fight you! You’re a story keeper kiddo, that so important! But more importantly, you are a storyteller, and you know what, those who tell stories gets to make them. Those who make the stories, and tell the stories get to change the story how ever they want too, so that it ends how they want it. Tell your story how you want it to be Vee!” Patton replied brightly, big smile on their face as they munched down on the apple slice.

Virgil shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. “It just does not work like that Patton.”

“Why can’t it?”

“Because!”

“Because why?”

“I don’t know? Societies stupid!”

“Then change your society.”

“Its not that simple!”

“Why can’t it be?”

“I don’t know! It just is!”

“I don’t know why you keep doubting me kiddo, you’re special, you can do this stuff.” Patton looked and sounded irritated. Virgil let out a low breath, trying to calm down from the heated exchange.

“Why do you keep calling me special? I’m just a librarian.” Virgil spoke up after a long moment of silence, voice low and doubtful.

“I don’t know why you keep saying that you aren’t.”

“It’s because I’m not special! That’s why!”

“That’s not what I see.” They implored.

“What do you see then?” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“When I look, I see one who can see more than what a usual person does. Understands that life is beyond what people think, and for all the worries that grip your heart and play with your mind, you do not let them corral you. You still walk the land and give balance to your season.” Patton said seriously, not looking away from Virgil. Eyes seeming to look deeper than just his appearance.

Virgil broke the eye contact, ducking his head. “Wow, that was not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting then?”

“I don’t know, something like how I’m ambitious, or charismatic or a ‘natural-born-leader’ or something similarly stupid like that, the things teachers give out on report cards.”

“Those things don’t really matter actually, it’s the life inside you that counts, and your life is so special and wonderful, and I want you to be happy.”

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know if I believe that right now Patton.”

“Believe what part of it?” they asked.

“The part where I’m special. Ya I see the ghost the here during the winter and I semi regularly affiliate with the kind folk, and I have not yet been eaten, so I’m lucky in that sense. I don’t think that’s special, it’s just normal for me.” Virgil shrugged his shoulders, not really sure what else to say.

Patton smiled, soft and light. “That’s okay, I guess thinking yourself normal is easier than being special. I’m glad you believe that I want you happy, because your working hard for your happiness and you deserve it.”

Virgil nodded; a small smile appeared.

Patton hummed, and changed the topic. “Do you want to dance?” they asked.

Virgil looked up, “You know I can’t dance.”

“I know you can dance, but you can’t dance with me. But that’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“I’m asking if you want to dance. Do you want to dance?” Patton asked, “Not with me, but beside me instead. I know you can’t come inside the ring, but you don’t have to, to dance with me.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked.

“Of course, we can go toe to toe, my side and your side, and dance. Just one dance, please?” they asked.

“As long as I don’t step inside, okay?”

“Okay.” Patton agreed.

They both stood up and stepped close, each on their own sides of the ring and joined hands. It was a little bit awkward with no proper music, but Patton giggled and Virgil had a blush creeping across his cheeks. They started humming, sweet and lilting, melody floating through the air and they stepped side to side, swaying back and forth in spot. Just like high schoolers on their first dance. It was a sweet moment, until Virgil’s alarm rang, cutting through Patton’s humming startling them both out of the dance.

“You have to leave?” they asked.

“Yes, I need to get going, if I stay any longer, I’ll be late, and I don’t really want that.” I’ll see you later, okay?” Virgil bent down, and picked up his backpack and the garbage from the snacks leaving the assembled crackers on the rock.

Gulls cawed as he made his way, waving to Patton, who was left standing at the border from there broken dance.

~*~

Virgil laid a paper on the table beside Dee in the breakroom. I was not a surprise that he was in the breakroom. He glanced up from his phone.

“Can I help you?” Dee did not sound interested in his offer one bit.

“No, not really anymore. I’m just here to let you know that three employees have filled out grievance reports against you, and I just finished filling out one. The director will be following up on the reports, and so if you want to keep this job, you better get your act in gear.”

“What? Are you serious?” that got his attention, he was still trying to look casual but failing with the concern showing in his eyes.

“Of course, I am serious. Why would I lie about something like this? Its not like my dog died, even though I don’t have a dog.”

Dee just glared as he picked up the paper, scanning the sheet with seeming disinterest. “I hardly see a reason to make such a big fuss about this. A couple days late, and I called in for a few yes, but aren’t we allowed a couple days here and there, anyways?”

“We’re allotted those days for when we are sick, or have family emergencies, or other similar events. Not because you feel like you don’t want to work that day.” Virgil took back the page. “I really hope the director is throughout in her follow up. And your break has been done for the past 25 minutes, and I know the books wont re-shelf themselves.” Virgil turned and left the break room, hiding his shaking hands and trembling shoulders. He could have a mini breakdown in his office before having to go back onto the floor. He breathed and counted to 4,7,8, trying to recall the melody Patton hummed earlier during their dance.

~*~

Patton didn’t show up the next week, and the blazing sun decided it was time to start raising temperatures. All the trees blooms were gone, and summer was here.

A Player’s Play

Summer came in strong over the course of a couple days. The rain had made the grass green and leaves were starting to bush out on shrubs and trees. The nights never got to cold anymore and the days were growing much longer, and the sandy beach just outside of town proper began to be populated during the weekends and warm afternoons. But what signaled to Virgil that summer was here was the construction of the outdoor stage in the square, just across from the library. The festivals and summer tourist attractions the town put on always included theater, which also meant that the theater company would be arriving soon. And with that, the arrival of someone not seen in a year’s time.

It was noon, bright and warm with a slight breeze ruffling the trees leaves. Virgil was spending his lunch break watching the stage curtains be hung and attached when a van pulled up and parked. He couldn’t help the excitement and small smile when he recognised a few of the faces that stepped out of the vehicle. And he couldn’t help the large smile when he saw Roman step out of the van, bright and laughing.

He looked around for a moment, pulling sunglasses on under the suns warm light, he paused when his gaze met Virgil’s, and it seemed like forever they looked at each other after such a long time apart. As if the actor could no longer spend a second apart, he ran across the square.

“Virgil,” He called out once he got closer, stopping short of landing on the librarian. Virgil stood and let Roman engulf him in a brief but welcomed hug. “Virgil, hi! Its been forever, hasn’t it?”

‘Hi Roman, its been a year, like it always had been.” He shrugged.

“Yes, a year, but years can be measured in many ways, and I feel like I have missed to many moments with you already, to many cups of coffee not shared, and I do not want to waste any now that we are here together.” Roman replied.

“Wait, is that a /Rent/ reference?” Virgil laughed, “You nerd.”

“I have to admit it is, but its theater geek to you, you emo.”

“I’m not that emo, just enough so I don’t offend the old people and I don’t scare away the kids.”

“I guess you go the position, then?”

“Yah, I did, just two weeks after you left last summer actually. Its- its been different, but nice. A little more pay, a little more freedom with my schedule. Its still work though, and there’s still a lot to stress about sometimes, but I’m getting better at managing and all that stuff. How about you?”

“Oh, not much really, I’m still here again. A few auditions that went okay, a few that didn’t, a callback that didn’t line up. You know, the usual stuff. It sounds like you have it pretty stable here though.”

“Ya, I guess, I-”

“Hey Roman!” One of the cast members called across the square, they both turned to look. “Come get you luggage, lover boy! We’re checking in soon!”

“Lover boy?” Virgil questioned, crossing his arms.

Roman laughed, that’s just Val, don’t worry about her, she’s practically a sister to me. And like any good sibling, teasing is abound to happen.”

“Okay, but don’t let me hold you up, I don’t want you getting into any more trouble that you already do.”

“Excuse me, I do not get into trouble, as a noble prince I am always on my best.”

“So, you’re a prince then?”

“Yes, and also a knight, and a townsperson. A couple different things this year. I think you’ll like the plays we put on this season.”

“I can’t wait to see them, but you better go.”

“Yes, I should, where will I be able to find you?”

“Where I’m always found. My lunch break is done soon also, would tomorrow work for you? In the evening, late afternoon?”

“I’ll make it work.” Roman answered and tuned, Virgil watched him walk across the square back to the van. Virgil went back inside.

~*~

It was late afternoon as Virgil walked up to the cliff. The sun was bright and the breeze as he crested the walking path was warm. The long grasses had finally greened after the spring rain and now late season wild flowers were starting to show their colours.

A flight of gulls took off from the beach below and he watched the swirling white spirals the birds flew as they settled, startled, and resettled on the sand below. Once again waiting till another little kid runs up and screams them into flight again.

Virgil settled on the rock, and watched the clouds drift by.

The sun was getting low when he heard the brushing step of someone walking through the grass, he turned and saw Roman. He was reminded of just how much a year can change a person.

Roman already seemed to have tanned a bit, lightly sun-kissed and he seemed more confident in the way he carried himself, shoulders strong but relaxed, a quiet confidence. And in looking at his shoulders, he seemed more well defined, muscles toned and strength added to them. Yet he was gentle with his every move, soft and doing his best to not crush and sprouting flowers. And the way his smile lit up his face and the way his eyes sparkled in the low sunlight, never changed.

Roman had always amazed him.

He sat down beside Virgil on the rock, and a settled quiet sat with them. They watched the sunset, purples and reds colouring the sky around them.

~*~

The stage was completely built, curtains and the lighting rigs were hung, and the backstage wings cordoned off from the sitting view of the audience. Virgil had a side view of the square from his office, his window showing a world that was a balance on two sides. One where the suspension of disbelief was held and the actors became the characters they portrayed, and the other side where masks fell off and everyone showed their true nature, it was a duality that enthralled him. it was a duality he wished he could play too also, but being able to see Roman rehearse was almost just as good.

He looked dashing in his prince costume, white fabric and red sash, gold details shining in the sunlight. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see with the gestures and reactions from the princess on the stage and the rest of the crew, the words and scenes must be hilarious. Roman and the other actors did well to keep their faces on. Virgil glanced at the clock; he just had a half hour left.

He finished his tasks and clocked out, waving goodbye to the front desk people before exiting the cool air of the library to the warm air of outside. The afternoons breeze carrying the salty sent of the ocean and the leaves of the trees rustled. He made his way to the mainstage to the gate and followed it along till he got to the edge of the stage. Everyone now was in a circle, talking and people had scripts out taking notes and nodding along to who seemed to be the director.

He caught Romans eye was he glanced up, and the serious look he had melted for a moment, brief smile gracing his face before he focused back to the group. It was another few moments until they were dismissed and a couple more after that till Roman appeared from behind stage, back in his street clothes and sunglasses.

“Hey.” Virgil called.

“Wheat.” Roman called back with a laugh. Virgil shook his head and bumped his shoulders with Roman as they walked down the sidewalk even though the actor was a couple inches taller than him.

“Stop it, you know what I meant.”

“I know, I just like seeing you smile, bright as the sun, and your eyes twinkle like stars, and the small laugh that escapes sounds like wind chimes and beauty, just like you.” Roman complemented, nudging Virgil back.

“Oh, stop that, I’m nothing like that.” Virgil shook his head.

“On the contrary, I could describe a thousand things and they would not be as beautiful as you.” Roman cajoled, but he saw the sower turn of Virgil’s lips, a pinched expression showing. “Hey,” he said softer. “You know I just want you to be happy, right?” He saw Virgil nod. “Then can I ask you a question?”

“What question?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Trust in what?”

“I don’t know, do you trust me?”

“I guess I do, why?”

“Because trust me when I say that I really do want you to be happy and I hope that I am able, one day, to be beside you, helping you to be happy, and that if you want to, you’ll be by my side, just as I want to be by yours.” Roman brushed his hand against Virgil’s as they walked, and they let their fingers tangle together.

“That sounds like a lovely idea, I just don’t know if we’ll ever get there though.”

“I think we will, even if we ever only meet in the summer, we’ll still have each other if we don’t get anywhere else. Sometimes, I think about us, and if this is as far as we get, I think I’ll be content with that.”

“Really? No more grand gestures of romantic declaration?”

“Well, I wish for that, but if this is it, then that’ll be okay, because we made what we have work, and I won't trade that for anything else if that means not knowing you, cause you’re amazing, just the way you are.” Roman sang the last part of the sentence, cracking a smile out of Virgil.

“What, are you going to serenade me now? I thought the flattery was enough.”

“My dear, nothing is enough for you, why don’t you sing with me?”

“I- I, no, not here at least.”

“Do you still play the ukulele?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded, “Ya, I still pick it up occasionally.”

“Then if you’re not comfortable singing, then we could duet, featuring you on your ukulele, and I can sing. I know there are a few good covers that transpose too the fingerings you need on the internet, if you’re up for that?”

Virgil shrugged, bumping shoulders once again with Roman. “Maybe. Hey, do you want some ice cream?” He asked, gesturing to the shop across the street.

Roman smiled and tugged their joined hands, Virgil was gladly pulled along.

~*~

It was a week later that Virgil found himself at the cliff again, plucking at the uke, staring at messy scribbles of cords and key progressions scribbled on loose leaf, a melody half developed as Virgil looked at it. the waves crashing below were a good white noise to fill the silence between the sounds. He put down the small instrument when he heard the steps of an approaching person.

He turned and saw Roman, picnic basket in hand, walking around the outside of the rock circle to him.

“I thought a mid-day lunch would be nice.” the actor called out, and Virgil beckoned him closer.

“Where did you get the basket from? And where’d you get all the stuff from?”

“I have my ways Virgil, and this small town has a decent grocery store despite its size,” Roman sat down beside Virgil. “I don’t get why people don’t like this cliff; it has an absolutely beautiful view.”

“There’s stories about this place, and small towns seem to not want to chance pissing off a ghost of disrespect the good folk.” Virgil answered.

“That is absolutely ridiculous,” Roman shook his head. “If you don’t want to piss anybody off, then just ask nicely, be respectful, and pick up your garbage after you. It’s not that hard.”

Virgil smiled at Romans answer. “I know, that’s that I do at least, but when people ask and I answer, they don’t seem to listen, even though I’m giving the answer.”

“I know, such a folly that people won’t believe what is outside of their comfort, but hey, at least we get to be here in peace.”

“I guess, what’s in the basket?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask,” Roman flipped the top up. “I got something simple, sandwiches, and a cooler bag full of popsicles. So, we better eat before the melt on us.”

“We could have just bought some on the way back, instead of having them melt.”

“I know, but I think we needed something cool for such a hot view.” Roman waggled his brows, getting a snicker out of Virgil who snatched a wrapped sandwich out of the actor’s hands.

“You are ridiculous.”

“And you love it. But I know, it’s an understood thing.”

~*~

“Mon amour, you are so beautiful today.” Roman said out of the blue.

“Hah! If you are going to speak French, go talk to Remy.” Virgil replied.

“Remy?”

“Ya, they work at the coffee shop on Main.”

“Gasp! Are you cheating on me?” Roman threw a theatrical hand against his chest.

“If cheating consists of me buying coffee, then yes. But I thought you had said it wouldn’t work between us.”

“I never said it wouldn’t, but that we should be open to possibilities around us.”

“Ah, I haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“There’s been no other possibilities, there’s not really anybody else here.”

“Oh, … well, the same for me actually.” Roman admitted.

“We are stuck, aren’t we?” Virgil asked.

Roman hummed and wrapped an arm around Virgil’s back. “I guess we are quite a pair, one day will be the right time, and we’ll figure ourselves out.”

“One day?” Virgil’s tone held disbelief, but also a little bit of hope.

“I promise, we’ll figure ourselves out.”

“I hope so, it gets lonely when you leave.”

“You do have other friends, right?” Roman asked. Virgil shrugged his shoulders.

“Some, I got Remy, others come and go too.”

“Oh,” It was quiet for a moment. “You’re still able to come to the play on Friday, right? You have the night off?”

“Yes, I’ll make it work.”

~*~

The evening was warm, it was always warm during the summer. The afternoons bright sun had bled out, spreading warm colours across the sky, painting the white clouds pink and throwing fire into the sky. It was perfect for seeing open air theater.

Virgil’s seat wasn’t the first row, but it wasn’t the back, but he knew that it was one of the good spots from the way Roman had smiled when he handed the ticket over. The play was a comedy, side splitting laughter echoed out through the square and even Virgil lost himself in the antics on stage. He cheered extra loud when it was Romans turn to bow before curtains.

~*~

Summer got busy. Really busy. Planning and arranging tours for the museum and scheduling events for the library seemed to be an everlasting job. Roman was busy in the afternoons preparing for the evening production, and before they knew it, the summer festival was in full swing wasn’t the small town was once again a tourist destination. The cliff still stayed empty, even when they were able to sneak off together on rare shared days off. Ice cream was usually melted and gone by the time they made their walk up.

~*~

Virgil had his head in Romans lap, the actor was resting his back against the rock, humming a melody that shifted and floated just as much as his own wandering fingers on his ukulele. Virgil had his eyes closed so he didn’t see Romans expression as he let out a sigh at the end of a phrase. He stopped his plucking and cracked open an eye seeing Romans fond gaze.

“What?” he asked.

Roman shook his head. “I dunno, nothing really. You just seem happy right now, and its nice.”

“I do?”

“To me, you seem happy. You’re more relaxed, and there’s a way that you hold yourself that just projects that you are more comfortable. Its nice.”

“Oh, it’s been something I’ve been working on for some time, I even counted it a little bit to a new year’s resolution to make a commitment.”

“Well, I think you have everyone beat on that resolution part.”

“Nah, I bet there’s some people from last year who’re still going, what about you?”

Roman shrugged a shoulder. “I did my best; I’d tried to draw or write something at least once a week. I got busy and forgot about it. I still try to do it though.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Virgil plucked out a cord, hands shifting on the neck. It was peaceful on the cliff, still, not a shift in the wind at all. The flowers were like observers to the only two there.

“There’s only a couple more runs of the play, and the festival is done in a couple more days.” Roman spoke up.

“I know.” Virgil replied. “How long do you think you’ll be in town for then?” Usually the company stayed a week after the were officially done performing, helping set down and pack up everything for the road.

“I’m not sure actually, depends on the managers and how quickly everything gets done. They both want to be gone by August 2nd.

“So not much time left then.”

“There’ll be just enough.”

“It’s never enough.”

“I know, but I am always happy to make the most of any time with you.”

“You’re a sap, you know that, right?”

“Ah, I may be a sap, but I’m your sap. And I’ll have you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Roman laughed and his fond expression returned.

“Here, hold this.” Virgil lifted his uke to Roman, and he got up after the actor took it. he stood up and started looking at the flowers around them.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Just a little somethin’.” A victorious smile broke out as he found a bright red flower, just on the inside of the ring. He crouched low at the edge and reached in, plucking the bloom. He sat back in front of Roman and brushed back his bangs, tucking the flower in behind his ear.

“There, I hope it stays pretty for you.”

“And you call me a sap.” Roman chucked.

Virgil shrugged and tried to hide his blush.

~*~

The festival ended with at party. The part of the town square that wasn’t occupied with the stage was in use as a dance floor, and small booths selling an assortment of treats and souvenirs lined the border. It was hectic and Virgil stayed more to the edge than not, happy to watch Roman be happy with is cast members.

A Woman settled almost too close for his personal bubble, but before he could move, she spoke.

“You’re Virgil, right?” Her tone was light, curious sounding more than anything.

“Uh, yah.” Was his eloquent reply.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Val, one of Romans cast mates.” She stuck out her hand to shake.

“Oh, hi.” Virgil accepted the shake, at a loss for what to say. She looked at him, and gave a nod, and as if happy with what she found.

“Roman always seems so excited to come here, and he’s always in a good mood when he’s here, and I guess you’re a part of the reason?” She gave a sly grin.

“Oh! Uh, we haven’t- uh, well, not really- but, uh…” Virgil floundered, cheeks flushing pink, and he tried to hide behind his drink.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to give you the shovel talk, you seem like a sweet guy, and you make Roman happy. I just wanted to see what’s he’s so happy about. He’s like a brother to me, and I know he can take care of himself. Sometimes he gets in such a funk, it’s nice to know that there’ll be someone who can help him out of it.”

“Oh, uh, thankyou? Roman really is wonderful. He’s a constant, even though he’s only here for a little bit.”

“He mentions it sometimes, ideas on settling down, and he always has a look in his eyes when he speaks about it, it’s the same one he gives you. I hope you both make it work.”

“Yah, me too.”

“It was nice meeting you Virgil. I hope you have a good night.” She waved and stepped away.

“You too.” He called after, and he watched her disappear into the crowd.

Roman found him halfway to midnight, giggly and half drunk, insisting to go to the cliff for the fireworks.

They made the walk up just in time, the display was just as wonderful as the new years one. Though Virgil didn’t watch this one either, enthralled by the uninhibited excitement Roman displayed.

~*~

The set down was quick, and it was all too soon that they stood hands tangled together, and Roman pecked a good-buy kiss on his forehead.

~*~

It was two days later that Virgil saw a leaf from the tree fall, edges slightly browned and dry. For all he was concerned, it was Autumn now.

~*~

It was evening. The wind on the cliff had a cool chill to it, Virgil just hunkered down more into his hoodie. Cold fingers finding chords and plucking notes. He hummed for a bit, finding words to fit over the melody.

“Hum, hmm, cause baby, I’m a dark star,” he plucked notes, happy with the words, he scribbled them out on the page. “But I’ve got stories I could tell you, if I want to- dark star, dark star.”

He looked to the sunset, seeing the reds and purples mingle with the dark blue of the encroaching night sky, and dance on the crests of the light blue water.

He’s just waiting for Logan and winter now.

~*~

Fin.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #sanders sides reverse big bang #stedler scribbles #human!virgil #ghost!logan #fae!patton #human!roman

36 notes · View notes

duskbeforeyou · 5 years

Text

Unfoldings

Beyond Orange Dusk Part VII

In many ways, sometimes I think that we quirky loners are the normal ones while the rest of the population are just pretty strange. Sometimes, they are not very good at lying. From the place I am observing, they don’t really enjoy participating this social circumstance game in which they seem so fond of. It’s just an evasion of their hearts that no longer holding the wound of solitude. And finding companies seems like best idea to show that their hearts suffer. That we suffer, for companions.

Maybe our hearts care too much about what others might opine. The anxiety that comes up after, will easily drive ourselves to exist somewhere talking, laughing, and crying in the middle of couple eyes on us. Socializing seems like a tribune for those hearts which full of anxieties. Or maybe it is a mere present for delicacies.

But is it worth to live our lives driven by the society demands? When something seems so right to us while people look at it disapproved. Particular stereotypes nowadays delight that ’strange’ ones who dwell safely in the circle. Meanwhile we the outsiders, troubled to find approbation of the ideas. I don’t want to live in the spectrum which almost everything is black or white. My capability of seeing things is somewhat blurred or unsure. It doesn’t mean that my way of thinking is lack in harmony, but I do believe that everything in this universe deserves to be seen in many two-dimensional perspectives.

07 November

The snow was falling. The sun stopped shimmering. The universe was taking back all the delighted melody and changing it to a soft lullaby. The atmosphere hid back all the orange and green ambiance of the summer and colored the continent with white and plain tones. So did the trees. They left their leaves and flower petals straggled on the ground. Here it was. Welcomed the winter.

It was 7.15 am and finding myself still lying on bed with both eyes closed covered by a flowery vintage blanket was not something surprising. Friday morning used to be felt like a festivity of the joy and tranquility. But at the moment, all days were pretty much the same. Those were gap days when I should be meditating before I decided which university I would choose after graduation. Well, to be honest, I did not mind it hard. Graduation was 6 months ago and I was still enjoying myself spending most of times in my room. Reading novels and writing lame things such poems and poetry. Well, I really loved poetry. There was countless poetry books trapped in the bookshelf inside my room which looked like oxygen to me. Breathing lovely words, melodious rhythm, and orderly stanzas were just magnificent to me. Maybe that was obviously explained the uncontrollable melancholy possessed inside me. Meanwhile, in that early day, the ticking clocks and hustle outside the door had not yet bothered me at all. I was peacefully unwinding on the beautiful land of Eden. It was just awhile before the disturbance coming the moment Adam and Eve reached the forbidden tree.

“Oh my God. Hey, wake up sleepy head!” Yeah. That was Keanu robbing my tranquility.

“Uh, what are you doing? Get out. I want to enjoy my best resting place on Earth.” Sighed me, in a very heavy voice.

“What?! The world outside is on the war and you talk about nonsense thing?!”

“Your fictional drama sounds more nonsense to me. Stop it, Alien.”

“Did you call me Alien? Get ready to pay your fault, sinner. Incoming!!!”

Keanu jumped on my bed, tickling my tummy, and shouting annoying things. Annoying, but it was delightful.

“Here! Here! And here! Feel your punishment, human!”

“Ouch! No. Hey! Stop it! Haha. No!” I could not decide whether I should be annoyed of laughing.

Just a moment after we finished the silly war that Keanu started, we both were found sitting down on a two-seated sofa in my living room. Leaning back and sitting by crossing my legs, I was reading Charlotte Brontë’s Sense & Sensibilitywhich reached on the ninth chapter, while Keanu was holding an open Issue 28 – Kinfolk magazine. He was leaning on the left side of the sofa with his face fully covered by size of the magazine, while his legs against my t-shirt sleeves. I was not so sure, whether he was reading or just daydreaming in a (not-so) classy way. We both remained in silence for almost an hour. People might think that we were bored and that was a boring thing done by two bored people in a boring situation. But trust me, we had been through this so many times yet never been complaining. Silence did not bore us. Sometimes, it comforted us.

(still almost an hour)

“Rae?” said Keanu.

“I am busy” still sticking my face on a page of the novel.

I thought he would curse me at the moment, or worst, throw me with the Kinfolk. But he did not. He closed the magazine and sat properly on the sofa so now his arms were against mine. It was quite long silence till I turned my face on Keanu. What’s wrong with that face? My heart questioned. Keanu was giving an empty sight at front, with dreary face. His eyebrows frowned while his mouth a half-inch open.

“Kea? What is it?” me, started asking.

He seemed startled, closing his mouth and turning his eyes to mine.

“It’s been days that I want to tell you this”. he answered.

“Tell me what?” I closed my novel eventually, thinking it might be something serious.

“I need to go back to downtown.”

“Wait. You mean your downtown?”

“Yes.”

“Well, okay. When will it be?”

“Soon.”

“With your parents?”

“By myself.”

“Yea, It’s a bit doubting that you can take care of yourself but it’s fine after all. So what’s the matter?”

Keanu was quiet for few seconds. He started looking down on his fingers with eyebrows still frowned. He had me worried.

“I might not come back in near time after that.”

“What? Wait, Keanu. I am not getting it.”

“I’ll be out of town for a long time, Rae.”

Okay, it is serious.

“How long? What are you planning to do alone in your downtown? Stop prevaricating! Tell me what the hell is happening entirely.” My heart was pounding so fast.

“Hey, calm down.”

“How am I supposed to calm down?! You’ve been making me uneasy since earlier.”

“Okay, Rae, okay. First of all, I am sorry to not let you know about this. A year ago, I applied a scholarship in a university in my downtown, for engineering major. The university did not respond to my application for three months that I was so desperate for college. That’s why I flew here expecting a better chance. A month ago, they emailed me and got me an online admission interview. Three weeks after, I got an email written that I was accepted.”

I had nothing to say at the moment. I jumped on Keanu and hugged him tightly.

“Oh my god, Keanu. That’s wonderful. Congratulations!” I started releasing myself from Keanu.

“Thanks” he answered with a plain face.

“Why you have to worry about me. I’ll be fine, really. We still can talk through Skype though. Unless, you got new pals that you think they’re much cooler than me. Uh-uh.”

“You miss my point, Rae”

“What else?”

“It’s a four year program, and I might not come back here for that long time. My parents have been in a little but continuous economic crisis for the past few months. My father’s business has been running slow, and so has the company where my mother works. I probably cannot afford the flight ticket until I graduated or got a job.” Keanu’s face still looked much more anxious than it did few minutes ago. I did not know what my heart was saying but all I wanted to do was soothing him, so I grabbed his both hands with mine. Tightly.

“Hey, everything will be okay. Trust me. We can figure it out together. You can do part-time job and also get A in your classes at the same time. Don’t worry. I will be right here, Kea. I always do.”

Keanu’s face was turning tranquil. But I did not know, I still could see anxiety in his eyes. Maybe I was not pretty good in judging people’s expression, but that was Keanu. I knew, whether he was okay or not.

“Thanks, Rae. That means the world to me. But, there is one thing that I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” asked I.

“I might meet someone in the downtown. Someone that helped me trough thick and thin in my old days, someone that’s always been there for me for almost three years till now.”

“An old friend?”

…

“A girlfriend.”

…

#short story #poems #poems on tumblr #poetry #poetry on tumblr #beyondorangedusk #duskbeforeyou

1 note · View note

aseekerofthegreatperhaps · 5 years

Text

In honor of the first snow

Neil Perry x reader

I don't own Robert Frost, you or dps

It had happened over night. The soundless white snowflakes had covered the grounds of Welton knee - deep with snow without anyone noticing in the darkest hours. When you woke up, you couldn't help but be excited when you saw the snow, although it meant that it would be hella difficult to get to your classes on time. But it reminded you of your home, where you had always greeted the snow like an old friend. You dressed in silent anticipation, bathing in the grey light the weather caused. While tying your hair, you watched the shadows of the flakes dance on the floor. This season always caused a slight melancholy inside your heart, but you were looking forward to Christmas very much. Glancing at your schedule, you saw that Mathematics with Mr Wright was your first class for today. "What a waste of time that I could spend outside", you muttered to yourself quietly while putting on a hat. But it wouldn't help to complain, you would just have to do your homework quick after classes. Sighing, you pulled the door behind you shut and stepped into the hallway.

Once outside, you immediately thought that you had underestimated the cold a bit, considering you were wearing a long sleeve shirt and no scarf. Luckily, the main paths had been freed of snow and you didn't have to fight through the tons of snow. Pulling your coat tighter around you , you started the walk through the walls of snow, occasionally marvelling at the sight.

When you stumbled into the class room ten minutes later, your cheeks were reddened and your hair was completely dishelved due to the hat, but you were just glad you had arrived on time. Flopping down on your seat next to Neil, you couldn't - as usually - believe that you were friends with him and got to sit right next to him. He wasn't the most popular guy or anything, but to you, he was the most beautiful human being. And although being the only girl in an all - boys school surely made you somewhat special, you never understood why he chose to be so close to you. "Y/N?" Someone snapped their fingers in front of your face and you spun around quickly. "Are you alright?", Neil asked, his eyes laughing at you kindly. "Sure", you replied, shuffling on your chair awkwardly. Cringe. "The snow is insane, isn't it?" "Yep. Had some trouble not freezing. But the thought of algebra kept me warm." He laughed. "Alright gentlemen, in case you didn't notice, the bell just rang. If you'd be so kind to concentrate on graphs now?" Ugh. Mr Wright had eventually arrived. You groaned quietly and Neil chuckled knowingly beside you. It still happened that teachers just oversaw you, but of course you were also annoyed by the thought of graphs. Neil really was a blessing there. Throughout the lesson, he continuingly explained things to you, effortlessly solving tasks you knew would cause you trouble in the upcoming exam. You dropped your pen, the thought of the exam not helping your melancholy and stared out of the window for the rest of the lesson.

Neil

She seemed a bit more absent today. I watched as she sighed softly and tucked her hair behind her ear, probably not even noticing judging on her stare outside. I had caught her daydreaming more than once lately and wondered why. Maybe the season made her think about her family, or maybe - she was longing for a certain someone? No, I would have noticed, I told myself. She still didn't seem to notice my amateurish efforts to court her. Charlie was always telling me to "Seize the day" and "Just go for it", but it wasn't as easy. She was just - so perfect, after all and I most certainly didn't meet her standards. I averted my gaze from her and stared into my book again, not understanding the task in the slightest.

Your POV

After a gruesome lesson, you were relieved to be freed to roam the hallways with lunch in your minds. "psst, Y/N" You turned around, Neil brushing your shoulder as he did the same. "Knox?" "Sorry to disturb you two lovebirds, but Charlie demanded we meet due to the honor of the first snow". He winked at us and added :" Half seven at the cave", before leaving. Lo-lovebirds?! Was all you could think about as both of you continued walking, casually chatting. What could he possibly mean? Did someone notice your crush? Or did Neil..? No, impossible, you decided firmly. No wrong hopes. "What about we grab a few apples for later?", he asked you in a hushed voice. You hadn't even realised that you had reached the dining hall. "Y-yeah, good idea", you responded, still a bit confused and flustered.

This evening after dinner, you had the weird feeling that something special would happen. It just was a particularly magic one. With it still snowing, a quiteness had settled over Welton and it had gently smoothed out sharp shadows, making everything seem peaceful and asleep when you eventually left at six. You were supposed to meet your rebellious friends outside and so you quietly snuck down the staircase, two apples in your coat. It was dark outside already, causing you to jump slightly when you saw the silhouettes emerge from the shadows. "There she is", someone exclaimed contently, probably Charlie. "Let's go then, shall we?" You nodded and the little group made its way towards the forest. The paths were slippy and it was still freezing. "Anyone brought some more food?", you asked into the pitch black silence, your breath causing a little cloud in front of you. "I convinced Sam to borrow us some bread rolls". "Borrowed?", you laughed. "Aye, he didn't notice yet, so don't tell him sweetie",someone added. You giggled quietly and suddenly felt Neil's presence beside you. He was smiling, it was radiating off him somehow and filled you with bliss. Unbeknownst to you, Neil had had a strange pep talk with Charlie minutes before your arrival. He planned to finally confess to you, but he still didn't know how. "Just charm her, Neil!", Charlie had cried out. "Compliment her! All girls like to hear how wonderful they are". Compliment her. Neil had thought about this mission for the last thirty minutes, but how could he ever able to sum up what you meant to him in an attempt to flirt? He would have to do it spontaneous. "Watch out Neil the entrance!" He ducked just in time. "Heh, head in the clouds today?", you joked. Neil forced a smile and motioned for you to climb into the cave first.

Inside, you immediately tried to ignite a fire. You sat down on your usual spot and weren't surprised when Neil got down beside you. He always followed you in school too, being your invisible shadow, but today he seemed to always stick with you. It grew darker every minute and it was lightly snowing by now, a few snowflakes tumbling into the cave. "Look at that fine snow", Charlie exclaimed, attempting to successfully light a cigarette. "Let's search for snow poems!" You chuckled. Those boys. "Oh wait wait I got one! ", Meeks shouted, adding to the overall amusement. " Dust of snow! By Robert Frost", he said, standing up. "'The way a crow shook down on me the dust of snow from a hemlock tree, has given my heart a change of mood and saved some parts of a day I had rued." He bowed ironically and you clapped for him. That poem described your winter melancholy perfectly.

A couple of hours later, you all decided to head back to the academy to not get caught. As everyone had climbed outside, you realised you and Neil were the last one left. "Well.. We should probably get going", you said, trying to destroy the wall of awkwardness that slowly built up between you. Neil was behaving weird, you thought. "Y/N, do you uhh do you know you have really pretty hair?" Hair? What was he talking about? "I - I never paid special attention to it, but.. thanks?", you said, confused. Where did he think he was going? "I just um- and you're very smart too!", he added, as if he had just realised it. "Thanks?" You were blushing pretty hard right now. Was he just messing with you? Did he know about your crush? "Gosh, this is really creepy! How did Charlie not know I'd be so bad at this..", he mumbled to himself, not looking at you. "Neil?" His head snapped up. "Did Charlie tell you" - you tried to calm your racing heart. It was now and never. - " that I.. like you?" There. You said it. You had just confessed what you had carried with you the past few months. You avoided eye contact. " You probably didn't mean that", you laughed and tried to blink the tears in your eyes away. You failed. "Y/N". His voice was painfully gentle now. Pity. You couldn't bear it and turned away from him. "Neil, I don't - I'm fine, really, just embarrassed and-" You couldn't finish that sentence, because in the blink of an eye, he had turned you around, his hand at the small of your back and the other supporting your neck, as he leaned down and firmly kissed you.

When you parted, he wiped your tears off lovingly and rested his forehead against yours. "That's exactly what I meant". You grinned and bit your lip. "Catch me if you can", you whispered, running outside into the gleaming white.

Ok pls lemme know in the comments what you think of this sappy - af - one shot :)

#neil perry x reader #dead poets society #x reader #not requested #but i live for neil #sappy #fluff #slight angst #dead poets society x reader

58 notes · View notes

confessionsofatwentysomethin · 5 years

Text

Guess who’s back, back again.

It’s me, your favorite 20 something, one year later from what I can only surmise as a shit show from what I just read because I thought it would be a great idea to recap myself on what you all must think of me.

I cried a lot reading the posts I didn’t remember writing because I was out of my mind curling up at the bottom of whatever bottle I’d come across that day; I cried, even more, reading the posts I did remember because all of that pain and melancholy still exists like boulders in the luggage of my runaway heart.

There have been too many boys, friends, men, bottles, smiles, drugs, laughs, cries, midnight vomit sessions, breaths of fresh air, happy days, and days I didn’t think I’d recover from to count. Honestly, 2018 was the happiest and saddest year I have lived this far. I’m sure as we chat a little more, details will begin to reval themselves and stories will come up. These are just the important ones I don’t want to half ass.

I want to start this post with a small message to Janurary 2018 Angela:

I know you’re really butthurt about Nathaniel but WE (I) FUCKED HIS HOT COUSIN NICK AND HE WILL NEVER FIND OUT BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO HURT HIM LIKE THAT OR DEAL WITH THE REPERCUSSIONS BUT IF WE EVER DID TELL HIM IT WOULD SHATTER HIM AND HIS FRAGILE EGO. So forget that dude, Nick was a fucking 14/10 and you fucking nailed that REPEATEDLY and Nathaniel still sucks even to this day so get over it you big, beautiful fucking queen.

Anyway, back to raw, emotional, reflective Angela (our regularly scheduled programming):

New years 2018 has become an iconic day in my life and the lives of every person in my once close-knit group of high school friends. Ryan’s girlfriend Monika slept with Ryan’s best friends Matt and Mason, and all three boys were some of my closest friends for years.

Sure, it’s a huge joke amongst those of us who still strain relationships through the wreckage that night and the nights leading up to it caused, that everyone got to see everyone topless and I made out with Jordan and Ashley like it was some innate thing that I’d always wanted to do (because we literally all made eye contact and just started making out, zero prompting from anyone... I totally admit that it’s the only moment where I genuinely questioned my sexuality lmao). However, no number of boobs of old friends is ever going to make me forget the way two of my friends betrayed Ryan.

Nevermind the fact the Monika gave birth to a beautiful baby boy a few months ago. Don’t worry, we all did the math, it’s not Matt or Mason’s... but the lack of loyalty on that girl does not suggest he is genetically Ryan’s, which isn’t stopping him from being with her, which makes pretty much all of us dead to him. Can we blame him? I don’t, not even one bit. I can’t imagine the feeling Ryan must have carried for months, the betrayal. I’m not saying I understand why he stayed with her and shut every single one of us out, but I also don’t think it’s unreasonable that he did. I have, and always will wish him the best; I hope his son grows up loved, happy, and healthy, and that Monika can grow up for his sake.

With that being said, I really do think that day was the last nail in the coffin for this page. I was so overwhelmed with processing the entire thing and how exactly I fit into it, that I really do think I had to turn my mind off for a long time to survive it in a healthy way. I lost faith and respect for two boys that I had watched grow into men that I loved and respected like the older brothers I had prayed for years to have. I would never be able to look at them the same way, and it made me feel selfish for making it about me that I just didn’t, not even to myself.

I did not speak to anybody in that group for about 10 months before I responded to one of the many invitations to come together with what was left of the group, which was Lucas and his girlfriend Little Taylor, and that only lasted a little while until New Years 2019 when they got into an immature fight like they always do, and I couldn’t help myself; I called them out on it, and now I guess we aren’t speaking. New years 2019 was the first time I had seen Matt and Mason, it was as if nothing had changed, and like always, they made jokes about what upsets them: Ryan being gone, Ryan being a Dad, our group is in pieces and we don’t talk about it unless it’s a low blow to someone who isn’t even around to stand up for themselves.

I had an alright time. I had gone with my friend Tim from Bdubs Dekalb circa 2015 to his sisters wedding, and missed the stroke of midnight, which was okay because I was perfectly comfortable spending the first two minutes alone in my car. We got drunk, nostalgic, and silly, just how I wanted to remember them. I really do love every single one of them for surviving all of the teenage recklessness we stirred up together, but part of growing up was realizing that not all of your friends are friends who can be trusted with anything but drunken jokes and stupid nights. I love them for being drunk and stupid, and I am okay with just that.

2018... what a fucking year. I Don’t even think I remember all of it. From the looks of my posts, it might not be because I naturally have a horrible memory, Rumplemintz definitely had something to do with it.

2018 was that year I loved Cirissa and Chris, the couple who gave me hope and faith in a love that slowly matures but never grows old... until I realized that they had too many problems for me to start analyzing the way they were. Chronic alcoholism, a marriage that was a mix of co-dependence, lack of confidence to get anybody else, and fear of being alone sprinkled on top of a genuine love that was the root of my admiration. Every night we were together, we were the three best friends that anybody could have, our soundtrack was every Disney song we could get our hands on; we got off work, and my tongue always tasted like peppermint schnapps, and they would let me hit the button on the slot machine they chose that evening.

It was a fast, hard, deep, loving friendship for a year, and I wouldn’t trade that time for anything in the world. I have never for one second doubted that Cirissa truly did love me like a sister, and sometimes like a mom, and she did everything she could to make me feel that love as deeply as this heart could let me. There isn’t enough time in the world to go through how grateful I am for the emo sing alongs, drunken heart to hearts, and hugs that really did hold me together when I was falling apart.

Chris truly is one of the greatest men I have ever known, and I know he loved me like the really cool tomboy sister he never had. So many heavy metal nights and pep talks about how amazing I am, and how much better I deserve, and I am literally sobbing like an idiot because I miss the support and friendship that these two gave me so dearly.

The truth is, as much as I cherish them and all the crazy shit we did, it wasn’t healthy at all. I cannot blame anybody but myself for all of the liquor that I let take a shot at filling up my emptiness, but they were the cheerleaders that helped me believe that one day my demons would drown.

I know well enough now that there’s never going to be a moment where my vices beat my pain or complexities, and that mentality has tried to thrive in the little wasted snowglobe we created for the three best friends and died every single damn time.

There is no way in hell that Christian Boyajian will ever fit into words on a computer screen or a book or even an encyclopedia. Not because he is the greatest thing that ever happened to me; not because he is particularly special; not because I’ll never forget him or get over him or stop loving him.

Christian was simply someone who came into my life, and changed it forever, He changed me in ways that I had always written about but had no idea how heavy the words I was saying actually were.

June 2017 or somewhere in there, we had met on POF and bonded over Batman and how we both grew up so close to each other. I remember feeling like he was funny, smart, worldly, and clever. He’s in the Navy, and we lost touch because I’ve been a fuckboy for years, and he deployed before we got close enough for me to ever imagine signing up to be a navy girlfriend.

Fast forward to March 2018, we reconnected on POF. I was wasted at coach house with my friends, and it was like no time had passed.

He was living in San Diego, I was back in Illinois still, and we facetimed every night for a month before I decided to fly out to meet him. He told me he loved me before I even got on the plane. I knew it was fast, but I was so sick of being drunk and numb that I let myself feel whatever I wanted. I did know that I wanted to say I loved him to his face, like I always have with anyone.

I didn’t even write love poems about him, just fragments that still litter the notepad on my phone, because I knew it would be over faster than I could write it down and I wanted to soak up every single fucking second of being loved because I genuinely didn’t know if I would ever get the chance again.

Standing in front of him for the first 24 hours, I was on top of the world. I was loved. I was worshipped. I was unbreakable. But after that euphoria gave way to reality, the conversations about me moving to California didn’t seem as exciting to him. He started petty fights and didn’t look at me like his world was in my eyes anymore.

The worst part of finally getting to feel all of the beautiful things that I wrote about being in a love I knew nothing about before him, was having to feel all of the soul crushing things that I wrote about after I thought I had failed at love, except this time it was so real that it really did break me into a million tiny pieces.

I literally watched him lose interest infront of me without the barrier of a screen to make it feel a little less human. He stopped holding my hand in the car, made heart-breaking attempts to pretend he still wanted to keep all of his promises, and tried to break up with me at a Portillos. I, of course, didn’t let that happen because nobody gets dumped at Portillos. I will be fucking damned if you try to ruin the world’s best goddamn beef sandwich for me, fucking asshole.

I loved him so fucking much that when he called me after a week of the silent treatment, all I could say was “you promised me. You fucking promised me, Christian. You won, you got me, that actually hurts” and he was so cold and disassociated that I knew that he had. I had finally felt something and it went from being so beautiful and reckless and amazing to an earth shattering sound I can never reproduce clawing its way out of my throat and dragging me to my fucking knees in my garage. I had poured so much of myself into him that I didn’t even have the strength to get off the concrete for 15 minutes. I just laid there and cried when we hung up because I had been so stoic during the call. I remember he had said “Goodnight, Angela.” and I replied coldly with “Goodbye, Christian”.because I wanted to rob him of the opportunity to feel like he would be missed, like all of this meant anything, just like he had robbed me.

Christian was everything I projected onto all of those boys before about how I craved to be loved, and everything I had projected on those goodbyes before him that I fabricated to write gut-wrenching poetry.

The only hard part of that was actually feeling it, and I finally understand that I cannot ever write things because they sound good because someday I will have to feel them and I have to be incredibly careful what I wish for.

I found out in October 2019 that he had gotten into a relationship 2 weeks after we broke up, and all the pain I had tried to pickle in vodka took a new breath of life, and it took me months to build peace with it again.

I didn’t even speak to a boy romantically for six months after that, which actually occurred a week ago... so there’s that for a timeline. We’ll get to present day soon, I swear.

Taylor, my beloved person, my forever friend, is gone. Not dead, just fucking gone. Christian and I had broken up in the beginning of July, she had gone through all that with me, gotten into a relationship with a guy named Ben who laughed like a goose and constantly saddled her with his alcohol issues (totally not judging because I have my own issues with alcohol but she didn’t and I wanted to protect her the best I could because I loved her so so much) (that ‘d’ was really hard to put after love, I guess it’s still raw). September came around, time for my birthday. I wasn’t particularly excited this year because if the depression and alcoholism and crippling loneliness, but she was determined to revive my normal birthday over-enthusiasm. So, she did, and when it came time... she couldn’t seem to follow through.

She’s a beautiful writer, but I think every writer is guilty at some point in their life of having more beautiful words than beautiful actions, and this was hers.

An extravagant birthday dripping in mimosas and mani pedis before a night of dressing to the nines and going out on the town somehow got stripped down to Walmart face masks and painting each other’s nails at home for the weekend I had requested off work an entire month in advance... and I had to tell her that I could do that on a normal day, but not my birthday weekend.

She got her wisdom teeth out just days before, and tried to tell me it wasn’t an appointment scheduled months in advance. I told her I was driving to Nashville for my birthday, and we could do a DIY spa day upon my return, but it really hurt me that she couldn’t be bothered to follow through with her promises, even if they weren’t as big in real life as they were in my inbox. She knew it was a dark time for me, and she put forth so little effort to build me back up the way I have always worked so hard to give her a big beautiful life full of laughter and stupid jokes and amazing memories.

We have spoken once since I sent that text. It was an accidental 2am FaceTime butt dial where she immediately hung up and said “sorry I left my phone open in my pocket”. I didn’t respond, and I lost my best friend because I told her that she hurt me, and the best way to deal with that is not to deal with it at all, I suppose.

Treasure and I reunited shortly after this, but not too shortly because I wanted to prove to myself that I didn’t need a “person” or a best friend or anyone because it had been such a horrible year for depending on others that I truly never wanted to do it ever again.

I got all of the best parts of Treasure back, the jokes, the stories, the laughing in unison, making everyone else in the room uncomfortable because the only ones that mattered to either of us was US. We were stupid but mentally sparred regularly, and kept eachother sharp on political, social, and emotional topics, and really worked to support and better eachother. In my time away from her, I grew my own voice, opinion, and sense of direction. This new characteristics allowed our friendship to flourish, and still is. She is still with DeAndre, and loves his son very much. I met him once, he”s smart and amazing and loves me. Her life is so filled with love, and I could see that she had found her corner of the universe. I was so happy to have her back in this new and healthy way, that it almost made it impossible to leave her.

Oh, here’s the kicker: I picked up my life and moved again, but this time? I moved to Seattle.

This is day 22 that I am wrapping up,

and that’s exactly why I’m back, bitches.

#Triggerwarning bitchimback confessionsofatwentysomething Seattle Travel newstart Newlife Whodis Recap dontcallitacomeback

0 notes