#you people are not allowed to sand him down to be the sad quiet emo softboy. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

apollosvotive · 4 years

Text

a fanfic about the cinnamon salt cinnamon characters written for the writeblr fic exchange for @apricotwrites. i chose to write about jay because i felt like i could grasp his character the best, but i dont know a lot about the characters so hopefully there arent too many inaccuracies aaaa. hope this is okay!

-------------------

Borneo is white sand shifting underfoot. Fat winged insects sluggishly dragging their heavy bodies from one flower to the next, the audible thrum of their wings. It’s the muggy air, the heat of the glowering sun as it pitches itself at the highest point of its trajectory. It’s the constant need to slap himself on the limbs multiple times to ward away a stray horde of hungry bloodsuckers. But still. Anywhere is better than home.

Jay lounges in the shade of a coconut tree, a hand beneath his head, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the shore. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell the rest are off a little ways down the beach from the loud splashing and occasional squeals of laughter. Sohla’s voice is clear and distinct. She’s shouting at Ruben something along the lines of ‘You have approximately half a brain cell in your head, Ruben, and that’s me being generous.’ Then comes Ruben’s indignant remonstrations and Birdie’s light, high laughter and Jay starts thinking all over again about how chance, how fortuitous, that the universe might allow the paths of these seven people to cross and become what they are now: together. A ragtag team of misfits, a family.

When he first set foot onto this island, it would have been impossible for him to even think about the fact that he might find a group of people who understand him on such a level. Of course, when he first set foot onto this island, he was still angry and alone and blameful, thinking thoughts about his leg or, more accurately, the lack of it. But then he met these guys, and he saw shy and quiet Will, prone to smiling to himself and listening, really listening when someone talks as if to make up for the fact that he cannot see them. Ruben, who, for all the clumsiness of his left foot, manages to banish any impressions of awkwardness with a simple, urbane smile. Or unpredictable Alison, lover of Shakespeare, Shelley, Dickens, names of the dead. She’s always got that strange smile playing on her lips as if she knows something he doesn’t. She keeps her thoughts close to herself, never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but he has come to know to find glimpses of her in little things, like in the way her eyes are always roving, looking for her brother, never allowing herself to let him out of her sight.

Come to think of it, there’s one voice that he doesn’t hear, floating up to him from where the rest of them are.

“Why so antisocial?”

Warmth lands on his face, flooding the darkness of the back of his eyelids with orange. He cracks an eye open. Alison is in front of him. She has shifted a palm frond away so that it no longer blocks the sun from his face.

“Not my thing,” Jay says simply.

“No?” She folds her arms in front of her. “You’re the only one not down there. How about for once in your life, don’t be a sad ass party pooper?”

“You’re here with me,” he counters.

“Only so that you’re not up here withering by yourself,” she shoots right back, without missing a beat. She isn’t looking at him. Her eyes are directed at a spot on the sand. “Oh, look at me. I’m Jay, I’m so cool, too cool to go down to the water and have fun with the others. Sorry to ruin your daydream, Jay, but from down there, you don’t look like you’re in a 1080p montage shot in a Fincher-esque style with emo music playing in the background. From down there, you look like a sad… ant.”

“Ha-ha,” Jay deadpans. “And that’s all an English lit student can come up with? Now put back my leaf. And go find your brother.”

Alison gasps in mock-affront. “Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?”

“I do,” Jay says very seriously. “I do bite my thumb at you.”

“Unbelievable! Incomprehensible!” she cries. “Hell is empty and all the devils are here!”

Finally, she succeeds in wresting a laugh out of him. She’s obsessed with Shakespeare. She’s memorised hundreds of quotes across all his plays and she enjoys quoting it back at him to annoy the shit out of him, which is, evidently, an effective method in getting him to do things. He shakes his head, unable to stop the upward twitch of his lips, and he pointedly ignores the smug and satisfied look in her eyes.

“Come on, Jay.” She jerks her head in the direction of where the others are. “I won. Let’s go.”

He covers his eyes with his arms stubbornly.

She sighs. “What’s going on? Are you homesick?”

“Homesick?” He scoffs from beneath his arms, as if it's an absurd concept. “No.”

“Woah, okay. Must you say it like the Bubonic plague originated in the tiny town of Laurels, Maine?”

“Laurels, Maine,” he repeats slowly. Just saying the name brings back to mind the feeling of inexorable boredom. Days of endless repetition. Just work and sleep and work. Days of friendlessness and hushed whispering and guilt-filled glances at his leg. The problem with a small town is that everyone knows everyone. This means that everyone in the little town knows that it was an accident that took Jay’s leg away from him when he was twelve and everyone knows he’s never been quite the same since. “More like ‘Bumfuck, Middle of Bumfuck Nowhere’. Wouldn’t go back if you paid me to. I am perfectly happy where I am now, thank you very much. It’s up to the rest of them to not go all Lord of the Flies and start killing each other.”

“Oh, considering that out of the seven of us, the only person to not scream at the sight of spiders is Will and it’s because he’s blind, I wouldn’t put my money on it.”

“I don’t scream.”

“I saw your face when there was that spider in the toilet the other day. Face of a pants-pisser.”

“You’re dysfunctional.”

“Aw,” she says. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, Jay.” She tries again. One more attempt that sounds as though its approaching finality. Sometimes Jay wonders how many times he can push others away before they stop coming to him altogether. He’s spent so long in Laurels angry and alone, convinced that no one else in the world could understand him, that finding this group of people, on the island of Borneo, of all places, feels like a rare stroke of luck he isn’t meant to have, the only thing the universe has done right by him. And the thought of losing them, that he might push them away enough times for them to not bother anymore – it makes him scared.

There. He said it. It does. It makes him scared.

“They’re waiting for you. ”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jay moves his arms away. He squints against the light flooding back into his vision, then his vision settles and his eyes come to rest on the black silhouette blocking out the rest of the light that is Alison.

She extends a hand to him. He takes it and allows himself to be pulled up.

“This better be good,” he tells her. She makes to place a hand on his back to support him but he shakes his head and moves away. All these years with a prosthesis and he’s gotten used to it even over tricky terrain. In fact, it feels no different from his old leg until he looks down.

“Come on, cranky old man,” she says. “Let’s go.”

They walk down the beach to where the rest of them are. Perched contentedly under a large beach umbrella, Will and Nolan sit, listening to music. They share Nolan’s headphones. Each one holds the muff to their ears as they quietly listen to whatever’s filtering in. Depending on who has control of the aux, the song is most probably either a romantic ballad or an orchestral score. Nolan turns one of his stimming toys over and over in his other hand. Lying next to him is a half completed drawing of the beach. Down by the surf, Ruben has sand packed on top of his entire body so only his head is visible. Birdie and Sohla stand on either side of him, and the three of them appear to be bickering lightly.

“Make me a mermaid!” Ruben is saying. “Give me a sweet pair of conch-covered tits and a cool tail.”

“No,” Sohla says. “Make him a mole rat. Give him grabby claws and a skinny tail.”

Ruben’s head swivels around frantically to look at Birdie. “Don’t listen to her, Birdie. Do not make me a molerat.”

Birdie quirks an eyebrow at him. A lopsided smile spreads across her lips. “You know I can’t do that.”

“No!” Ruben’s protests are nearly drowned out by the sound of Birdie and Sohla’s laughter as they begin patting the sand surrounding Ruben into a rodent-like form. “I am the sand guardian, guardian of the sand! Poseidon quivers before me!”

“Clam it, Stuart Little,” Sohla says lightly, inciting a string of rapid-fire protestations from Ruben, and Alison turns to look at Jay and Jay – well, Jay can do nothing more but smile.

#cinnamon salt cinnamon

4 notes · View notes

fishystar · 6 years

Text

Tell Me the Truth: part 1

When we got back to the other side of the beach where the rest of the class is. I pulled Nathanaël’s hoodie off. Determined to free myself of the garment that drowns me in his wonderful smell. Wait, no. I hate him; I hate him and his stupid, idiotic, beautiful smile. No! This can’t be right! Yet, I want him to kiss me again. I want him to hold me. I want to hear him call me beautiful, again and again. No, I don’t, anyone but that stupid emo artist that sits in the back of the class! I drop the hoodie on Nathanaël’s shoulder as I make my retreat, while I berate myself for having such thoughts. I swiftly approach the water. I step a few feet past the water line when the thoughts start up again. I drop to my knees in the water and use my right hand to try and scrub the words off of my arm.

I don’t notice the way that everyone in watching me. I don’t care about them right now anyways. All I care about, all that I want right now is to go back. Back to before I had Nathanaël draw me that stupid soulmate tattoo. Unknown to me, Adrien had gotten the rest of the class to ignore me and return to whatever they were doing.

At least then I wouldn’t know that he is my supposed soulmate, and I wouldn’t be so upset over thoughts of him not wanting to be with me.

The black ink that had been used for the tattoo washes off of my arm. The black mess is gone from my arm, but the words are still there, staring back at me daring me to try and defy them, taunting me. Making me remember the explosion of happy butterflies that I felt when we kissed; butterflies, that I’d never felt when I kissed boys in the past. But I can never admit that to him. It’s too late for that, I reacted the way I always do. I lied and pushed him away. I can’t take it back; I can’t let myself fall in love with him now. Because we made a deal and I didn’t tell him the truth. I just know that he felt nothing with that kiss, but in the short time we sat behind that big rock, he became one of the most important people to me.

My left arm and right hand are stinging from my attempt to wash the words away. I don’t notice the hot tears rolling down my cheeks. But I do notice that I am suddenly covered by someone’s shadow. I choose to ignore them though. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

This whole soulmate thing is so messed up! I didn’t want this to happen. My thoughts are such a mess. I don’t even know what I want anymore. I want to be with him, but I don’t want to force him to be with me. I don’t understand it. When I want something I get it no matter the cost. Why am I willing to just give him up?

“Do you really hate the idea of it that much? So much that you’d be willing to hurt yourself this way?” The owner of the shadow asks quietly. I can tell just from the voice that it is Nathanaël, I can also tell that he is not being quite for my sake, but because he is hurt. His voice is dripping with sadness, but what reason would he have to be sad? Why does the thought of Nathanaël being sad hurt so much?

I am not in my right mind, which is the only explanation I could have offered for how I answer him. “I don’t hate the idea at all! But I know that there’s no way you could possibly ever consider me.” I start off yelling but my voice trails off as my confession breaks my own heart. My right arm is suddenly extremely tired so I let my arm drop to hang limply by my side. Both of my arms hurt, my left because I seem to have rubbed it to the point where I might look like I have carpet burn on my arm later, and my right from the work it took to make the left that raw.

“Chloé, get up.” He declares in a way that doesn’t seem to fit with the whole ‘shy’ demeanor. When I don’t stand a hand grabs me by my right arm and pulls up, forcing me to stand up. I’m still distracted by the fact that I’ve let him close enough that the idea that he doesn’t want to be with me is tearing me apart inside; to notice that he is taking me to the umbrella he was sitting under earlier.

“Chloé, there’s no deal.” He tells me like it’s a fact. I break free from his hold on my arm and sit down in the cool sand in the shade of the umbrella. Not quite wanting to leave his company, but not quite wanting to look at him when doing so brings those butterflies back.

“We agreed to it though, that if neither of us felt anything then we would never feel anything for each other, and I told you already that I felt nothing.” I say, mindlessly dragging a finger through the sand.

“The deal was if both of us felt nothing and while it’s disappointing that you felt nothing. I did; so we don’t have a deal.” He sits down beside me. We sit in silence as his words slowly sink in. When I finally realize what he said my head snaps to look him in the eye. Not wanting to let myself have any false hope, if he only meant it as a joke. But he didn’t sound like he was joking, and he is looking at me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the universe. The look in his eye fills me with warmth, happiness, and hope.

His gaze on me has me still as a statue. Mostly because a part of me is scared that if I move he’ll realize just who he’s looking at and turn his gaze away. But the other part of me is so captivated by the color of his eye, that I’m discovering how hard it is to breath while trying to stay as still as a statue, when he suddenly bursts out in laughter. I instantly recoil away from him; ashamed that I allowed myself to believe the words I had so desperately wanted to hear.

He continues to laugh, and laugh. I should leave; the longer I sit here while he laughs at me the more it hurts. I begin to stand up and he seems to instantly sober up. Stopping me from escaping by grabbing my wrist. “Where are you going?” He asks softly, with a curious gaze. His voice has the slightest hint of worry.

I turn my head away, refusing to look at him. Because his eyes have power over me, power that no one should ever have over me. “I don’t know! Anywhere that’s not next to you!” I scoff, somehow managing to get the normal me to resurface.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He says then gently pulls me closer. The way he is pulling me closer, his hold on me is gentle, fragile. I could break out of his grasp and escape, and he would let me. For reasons unknown to me, I let him pull me back. I sit down next to him where I had been sitting moments ago. “You didn’t feel anything when we kissed, but you don’t hate the idea of being with me. Yet I’m just the loser art kid who can’t possibly be destined to be with you.” He sighs the last part dramatically bringing his other hand up, touching the back of his hand to his forehead in exaggerated distress. His eyes are closed but he peeks one open to look at me and his face turns pink.

I look away from him, choosing to watch the rest of the class play around in the water while I roll his words around in my head. Considering them.

“I mean; it can’t be possible that, Chloé the daughter of the Mayor would ever think that I’m cute, right?” He adds, and the way he says it like a statement makes my heart sink.

My reaction should have been internal. My thoughts should have been ‘It’s unfair of him to quote me like this. I never knew that Nathanaël could be so rude. It just doesn’t fit his personality that he always has in class.’ But instead of that I shout, “That’s not true! Why are you treating me like this!” My face feels like it is on fire, I glare at Nathanaël angrily. I can’t think of how else to react at the moment, and I just can’t possibly keep quiet anymore.

He drops the act he had been putting on, leaning in closer to me. Whispering his answer, “Why? Well, because this is the only way I can think of to get you to tell me the truth.” I notice that his hand that grabbed my wrist to keep me from leaving; seems to have fallen so that it is resting atop my hand, but I don’t mention this to him, as he doesn’t seem to realize this. He might tease me, or worse move his hand away. I turn my head away from him to look at the rest of the class. They don’t seem to notice what is happening over here. Usually, I want everyone’s attention, but right now I only want the attention of the boy sitting next right to me. I want his attention but I’m not going to suddenly change who I am. So I don’t even peek at him, just watching our classmates who are too far away to hear anything we say.

My eyes land on Adrien, who appears to be glancing my way. I can’t see his expression too well, but he quickly turns his attention to Marinette who stands in next to him. She’s talking animatedly about something making gestures with her hands. Whatever she says, it makes Adrien laugh.

Suddenly fingers grab my chin and gently turn my head to face Nathanaël. “So Chloé. Won’t you tell me the truth? Because you’ve been saying a lot of things today, but none of it matches up.” He speaks softly as he leans in closer, tilting his head ever so slightly so that I can see both of his eyes clearly, and all of it makes my heart race. My mouth opens and closes like a fish. I’m searching for words to say but thoughts escape me. How have I gotten myself in this situation?

#chloé bourgeois #Nathanaël Kurtzberg #Chloé x Nathanaël #Fluff #angst?#Fishystar's Fanfiction

1 note · View note