Fabricant451

BHHS: Limitless

^{Timestamp: Saturday, 5:45pm
Location: Yani’s van, the route to the school
Kisho, Yani, and Leila
@Aces Away and @Fabricant451}

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With one of their latest beats testing the limits of their subwoofers, Yani drove towards the address Leila had texted them after they parted ways yesterday afternoon, all but bouncing excitedly in their seat the closer they got. They were trying not to vibrate out of their bright red suit with the excitement of going to pick up the beauty that was Leila Webb, but they couldn’t help the constant excited movements. When they got closer to their destination, a hand that was not theirs reached out and turned the volume down to a level acceptable for driving through a neighborhood.

“I can’t believe you got a date and still made us carpool,” Their brother spoke up, speech less formal in the privacy of the van. “Are you sure it’s not going to upset her?”

“Why would we drive to the same place from the same place?” Yani asked incredulously, seeing no difference from when they would drive into school together. Not to mention, the way their brother reacted when his car’s infotainment system lit up with a message from Theo of all people on their way home from the game last night, Yani wasn’t sure they could let their brother behind the wheel again so soon. When Yani should have been up all night thinking about their kiss with Leila, instead it was the absolute disregard Kisho gave to everything else as he lunged to disconnect his phone from the screen before it could read whatever Theo had sent him that had kept Yani awake, wondering just what the hell was going on between those two. They’d all known each other for years, but Kisho and Theo’s relationship has been weird ever since highschool and Kisho refuses to talk about the red headed boy at all when Yani tries to ask. Even Wakiya’s more subtle attempts were evaded, and this morning Kisho had gone as far as to snap at his step-sister to mind her own business before immediately apologizing and disappearing into his room. Yani was worried for their brother.“Why would she be upset? You’re my brother, not a surprise date!”

Kisho scowled at his sibling. In truth, he’d been planning on showing up to the dance a bit later than most and hoped that would let him avoid his friends just a bit longer. Avoiding most of the actual event but getting there with time to spare to head out with Ethan and whoever else was making the journey to the vineyard seemed like the best course. He’d spent the morning throwing up in his bathroom over the thought of betraying Benji on Theo’s orders, of saying something as heinous as the other dark haired boy drugging Theo’s drink. He had been planning on talking to Benji at the dance and nudging him towards a conversation with Yani, because if anyone understood imprisoned parents on account of white collar fraud, it was his sibling. Instead he was planning to avoid not just him, but all his friends as much as possible. If no one tries to talk about last night, Kisho won’t be asked anything. He won’t have to say anything. Dammit, he can’t say anything. He was loyal to a fault to all the Elite aside from Theo and Alvaro, and even thinking about the position he was currently in from a single text from his tormentor felt like he was being torn apart. He was already wilting under the stress. So yeah, he had planned avoidance above all else until he had a chance to breathe and process and properly freak out over what the hell he was supposed to do.

But no, Yani had routines, and driving to the school together was one of them, regardless of any detours or who was driving, or if it was even for school. As Yani pulled up to the house and hopped out to go knock on the door and collect Leila, Kisho made his way out of the passenger seat and into the back of the van, hanging up his paisley designed suit jacket before lounging on the bed in his dress shirt. He grabbed whatever book he’d left next to the nearest speaker from the last time he’d been stuck in the van for a while, hopeful and ready to disappear while Yani fawned over their new girlfriend on the way to the dance. He could tell his sibling was concerned, last night he was almost a second too late in disconnecting his phone from his car and it could have been all over right then and there. Yani would know Theo had him under his thumb and would want to know why, and then they would have found out how weak Kisho was. Yani would never understand the lengths he would go to to keep Theo's blackmail on him a secret, because they were comfortable and openly them and everyone loved them too much to disparage them even if given a reason.

This night was going to suck.

Yani made their way up the driveway and knocked on the door at a respectful level before taking a step back while smoothing out their suit sleeves and trying not to bounce on their toes. They’d texted Leila when they were on the way with an ETA, so the girl would likely be at the door quickly. They hummed excitedly.

This night was going to rock!

Leila still couldn’t believe her luck. When she got home the previous day the first thing she did was splash water on her face to make sure it wasn’t some incredibly vivid dream and then her mother asked why she was splashing water everywhere and Leila’s response was somewhere between a squee and a tea kettle. That night, while sleeping as restlessly as a little child on Christmas Eve, Leila kept thinking back to the van. To the kiss. To Yani. Leila was someone’s girlfriend and it was someone cool, beautiful, musical, and…perfect. Her mother, in all her dry witted cynical snark, said this was the ‘honeymoon phase’ but Leila paid her no mind because after the honeymoon came the rest of a couple’s life.

The Saturday before being picked up saw Leila scrambling to get ready. She woke up at noon in a panic, managed a very light brunch, and then took an uber to a salon for an emergency straightening of her hair. It wasn’t until there was barely twenty minutes left before Yani’s arrival that Leila had a moment of peace - and it came with looking at herself in a mirror. At the start of the year, Leila wasn’t even sure she was going to go to Homecoming - they never even played good music at school dances - but now…they could’ve played the chicken dance for three hours and Leila would only hear Yani’s voice. Her mom, realizing that prom photos were more valuable, still managed to take a few pictures of her daughter in her more culturally traditional Homecoming outfit that by the time the the knock came at the door, Leila was already told just to be back before the sun came up.

Opening the door, Leila was ninety percent smiles. Yani was there, this was real, they were going to the dance together, and this was likely going to be the greatest night of her life. “You look…” Somehow, amazing didn’t seem to cover it. Beautiful. Cool. Gorgeous. All these words and more but none of them could adequately describe what Leila thought of Yani in that moment, seeing them in their red suit. “Unbelievable…” It would suffice. And it was true; Leila couldn’t believe that Yani was here. For her. That soon they’d be dancing together. If this was the honeymoon phase, she wanted it to last forever.

“What? Me? You look like a goddess!” Yani exclaimed, eyes wide as if they couldn’t take in enough of the sight in front of them at once. In opposition to Yani’s intense, almost fire engine red suit, Leila was draped in fine cloth richly colored a dark raspberry and adorned with floral beading across her torso. The oil heir fumbled excitedly with the box in their hand before holding it out for the other to view. Luckily for them both, the corsage matched well with the girl’s outfit and Yani couldn’t be more pleased with their luck. “I am quite lucky, but I feel bad now,” They smiled so she knew they were joking. Taking the lid off the container to fully expose the corsage, Yani took it from the box and tucked the box beneath their arm. Holding the corsage in one hand, they held the other out to Leila so that they could put the floral arrangement on her wrist. “I am handing such gorgeous flowers over to be worn by a beauty they could never match! I do a disservice to both you and the corsage.”

If it was possible to swoon twice, Leila was doing it from Yani’s thoughtful words and even more thoughtful application of the corsage. Leila’s eyes looked to the corsage but inevitably they were drawn to Yani; it was still surreal that it had been barely a full day and she felt like a completely different person. Being in a relationship changes people, suddenly all those sappy romantic movies her mom secretly devoured made a lot of sense. Leila, too, would do crazy things if it meant keeping the smile on Yani’s face burning bright. A smile that Leila didn’t even think she was worth being blessed with. “Well…I hope the flowers won’t mind being the third most beautiful thing between us.” In Leila’s eyes, Yani was, of course, number one just as she was sure the reverse was true for Yani. “They are beautiful, though. And you are too. This is already the best night ever.” Leila wanted nothing more than to hold Yani’s hand after the corsage was applied and skip - metaphorically in this case - down the path towards their chariot; she would settle for holding their hand or locking arms or anything to keep the distance between them close.

“I feel bad for the others at the dance, they don’t have you as their date.”

As Leila had hoped, Yani did not release her hand after applying the corsage, they simply changed the way they grasped it until their fingers were intertwined and Yani was now by her side instead of infront of her. The DJ began leading her slowly down the driveway towards the awaiting van with the never ending smile still overtaking their features. They were practically glowing underneath Leila’s compliments and the way their date was blushing was setting their heart beating and striking a new song into their soul. They could already hear the fantastical intro tripping into a resonating build that mimicked the heat rising on Leila’s skin.

“I do not feel bad, personally,” They spoke confidently, face tilted towards her. “Maybe that is a bit selfish but I have with me exactly who I want. I do not care if it upsets anyone else, so long as we are both happy,” The grin was less all encompassing now but the energy was all still there, it was just that even Yani couldn’t smile forever, everyone needed to relax their facial muscles. Plus as they neared the car, Yani was brought back to the ground from their place on cloud nine and remembered the third person chilling in their van. Slowing down as they reached the vehicle, Yani let their date know the situation.

“So listen, my brother, he is in the back so that you can have the passenger seat. I did not want him driving alone and he has been acting weird,” Yani revealed with a level tone, impressing on the gorgeous girl beside them that they weren’t trying to throw off the date or surprise her with anything. Well, anything aside from the flowers waiting for her in the cup holder, but Yani had promised to bring flowers yesterday and they were a person of their word. “I was just…a little worried, and made him come with me instead. I am sorry if this makes you uncomfortable in any way.”

Leila didn’t want to pry into the sibling affairs; whatever might have been causing Yani’s brother to act weird for him to know and deal with and Leila wasn’t going to let anything keep her from having a wonderful evening. She wasn’t uncomfortable about it, at the very least, and nodded her understanding of the situation. “It’s okay, he’s your brother and you care about him. I totally get that. And honestly, I don’t think I’d even notice my own shadow when I’m around you.” The music-lover hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick or too sweetly, but she was just being honest. Being on cloud nine was a wonderful experience and one she hoped others could experience just so they could feel a fraction of the bliss she felt in the moment. “But I hope he is okay.”

Me too. Samyan thought but didn't say, instead grabbing her hands and clasping them within their own against their chest, looking into Leila’s eyes so she could see their sincerity when they said, “You are wonderful.”

And she was. Everything about Leila had Yani wanting to lean in to experience her just that little bit more, left them reeling with the beat of life she sent pounding through their oversized heart with so little as the thought of her. For a musician, Leila was the best sort of danger that could be asked for; a muse radiating so much inspiration that it could leave Samyan dizzy from the rush. Not to mention the rush they got when kissing her, no matter how chaste it had been. It was like nothing they’d ever experienced in any other even vaguely romantic encounter from their past and it was something they wanted to experience over and over again. They didn’t think they could ever get too much of one Leila Webb. Thanking the girl with a quick kiss to her cheek, Samyan led her to the passenger side of the van and held the door open, hand out to once again help the princess-for-a-night into her temporary chariot. They fast paced their way back around once she was situated and hopped into the driver’s seat, turning to their brother in the silence.

“Did you say hi?”

“Hello, Leila,” Kisho spoke up with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment behind his novel as he remained reclined on the mattress. Sure, he’d waved when the girl glanced back at him, but he didn’t realize verbal interaction was going to be required here. Catching his sibling’s steady gaze, he frowned at their imploring look and continued with the apparently required niceties. “You look lovely tonight, how are you?”

The best outcome was that the ride wouldn’t be awkward; Leila was confident that a little awkward ride to the dance wouldn’t spoil her mood but even so she definitely preferred things to be…normal. As she settled into the passenger seat, a thought rolled to the front of her mind: what if she made it awkward by treating Kisho as a third wheel? The absolute last thing she wanted was to cause a rift between the siblings - especially if Leila had every intention of being a present figure in Yani’s social life in the days, weeks, months, ahead. With that thought burning a hole in her mind, Leila turned to give Kisho the friendliest of greetings: a slow nod of the head. It was Yani who broke the ice between their brother and Leila and Leila was glad for that. Despite how bubbly Leila was when in the privacy of her room or when she was just feeling the music in her brain, she was absolutely terrible at small talk and greetings; she was worse when meeting people for the first time and they never quite knew if they had to shout at her (they didn’t) but they always did.

Always.

“Oh, this old thing?” She was, of course, being modest, but the outfit had been purchased in advance by her mother - though she figured it would be worn at a wedding or some formal event that wasn’t a high school dance. Leila figured her mom was just happy that it was getting worn at all. “Thanks.” She couldn’t hide the soft blush. She liked getting complimented, who would’ve guessed? Before answering the question, Leila stole a glance towards Yani in the driver’s seat, and the blush deepened and when she spoke, her words aimed right towards the dashboard. “I’m…really…really…good.” Words were difficult all of a sudden. “Are you…doing good?” She turned to ask Kisho, concern clear as the sky in her query.

“That’s wonderful,” Kisho had raised an eyebrow at the girl’s blushing admission to the dashboard and his sibling’s responding blinding grin towards her, not at all surprised that Yani had finally found someone that could fall just as fast and hard as they could. Closing his book and tucking it back up on the shelf as Yani started the van up and pulled out of the driveway, he took the moment where he wasn’t directly facing Leila to let all the emotions that her simple question dredged up flicker across his face. Was he doing good? Ha! Absolutely not. He was one wrong move from his entire friend and support group imploding and the puck was his to shoot. Why hadn’t he gone to any of his friends about what Theo had over him in the past four years since it happened? Why did Theo have to have gotten that blackmail in the first place? Creepy fucking psychopath.

None of those thoughts were on his face when he turned to his sibling’s date with an ineffective smile meant for deflection.

“I am doing well, thank you,” He lied right to her face, ignoring the way Yani’s eyes had sharpened on him from where they were watching him in the rearview mirror. It was a warning just as much as it was a denial of his words, and he resisted the childlike urge to stick his tongue out at Yani in response to their gaze. It’s not like he was going to be honest with her about his mental state right off the bat, this was small talk after all. The childish feeling passed as Yani’s attention was pulled back to the road before them. “Are you excited for the dance? Yani would not stop talking about you after school yesterday.”

“It’s true, and I am excited still!” Yani admitted shamelessly, taking their eyes off the road just to make ridiculous puppy love eyes at Leila for a mere second.

“Excited…” Leila paused, as she was suddenly finding herself doing more and more while in Yani’s presence - and how could she not when those beautiful eyes were looking right at her, and shook her head accordingly. “Doesn’t really cover it. You might think it’s funny…but I couldn’t sleep much last night because of tonight.” The numerous wrinkles in her bedsheets from tossing and turning in delight was a testament to that. “I think my parents got tired of me talking about yesterday, or at least my dad did. My mom kept insisting Yani was imaginary right up until they rang the doorbell.” Not having the burden of watching the road, Leila took the chance to look towards the driver’s seat, at her date for the evening and hopefully many evenings to come, and smiled.

“Are you hoping to dance with anyone tonight?” Leila just hoped the question to Kisho wasn’t taken poorly.

Kisho hoped she didn’t take his abrupt laugh too negatively, and judging by Yani’s eyes in the mirror his sibling was more upset for him from his response rather than at him. It wasn’t Leila’s fault for asking a question that Kisho felt had an obvious answer, given he’s basically never been seen with anyone outside his boys or his sibling in his entire highschool career, but that hadn’t stopped his reflexive response.

“Sorry. No, I am not,” He answered, trying to think of if there was ever a person that the mere thought of kept him up at night. In a good way, at least, as he already had his own personal nightmare keeping him awake last night. Judging by the way Leila and Yani looked and were acting versus how he was, he had a feeling it really wasn’t the same experience at all. Must be nice. “I would not expect to see much of me once we arrive.”

“Do not pull a disappearing act,” Yani pouted, but the steel in their eyes told him it was a warning too. Rolling his eyes, Kisho gave into his previous impulsive urge and stuck his tongue out at his sibling, grabbed his novel back off the shelf, opening it up to show his intended activity for the rest of the car ride.

“I will not be disappearing on you, Samyan,” Kisho assured, flopping back onto the bed with his book, reaching above him for the headphones connected to the back stereo since his were still somewhere up front. “I am only ever a message away, but do not act like you do not want time alone with your stunning girlfriend. I am not upset about it.”

Samyan eyed their brother as he disappeared back into whatever fantasy world he was reading about, ultimately deciding that he’d done well considering he hated small talk and that it was time to let him be free.

“He is right, you know,” Yani glanced to Leila again, voice a bit lower now that it didn’t have to reach Kisho’s ears in the back. “You are stunning, and I would like to give you much if not all of my attention tonight. You deserve it.”

When Leila saw Kisho reach for the headphones, she knew exactly what that meant; on road trips with her parents, Leila did the same thing. Nothing got rid of the awkward car talk quite like drowning things out with music; the one downside was that her parents knew her hearing situation just as much as she did and they never quite bought the ‘I can’t hear you’ excuse when she tried to get out of discussions on low test scores or arguments about visiting family for holidays. In this instance, though, she wasn’t upset. It was clear that Kisho was…going through something and she was hardly equipped to help him through it when all she had to offer was sympathy, empathy, and platitudes.

“It’s a good thing I’m like a flower.” Leila began the comparison knowing the end result was a little on the cheesy side; fortunately it didn’t seem like Yani was lactose intolerant when it came to Leila. “Your attention makes me blossom.” What a strange and wonderful thing being in a relationship was, it made her talk like she was writing Hallmark cards but it made her feel like she was in a Jane Austen novel…without the classism. “I apologize in advance for my dancing. I have never danced with someone before. Just warning you now in case my lack of coordination ruins my allure.” She was kidding, of course, as if the curve of her lips didn’t make that clear. “I think with you, I would even be able to tolerate the bad songs they will probably play tonight.”

“Are you saying you have not fully blossomed and you are this staggering?” Yani gave a dramatic gasp and gave a gentle swoon in their seat before grinning at Leila. “How lucky I am! Also, not to brag, but I believe I am equipped to lead us in any actual dancing. It is sort of a requirement to know how to dance given the amount of Galas and other social or business events we have been dragged to nearly since birth,” The oil heir assured easily. “I believe you would find the flow quite easily, just as I am sure not much more is expected of any slow dance at a highschool aside from swaying.”

Yani would dance however Leila wanted to tonight, and they would savor every moment of it. There wasn’t a single thought in the DJ’s mind about disappointing the girl they were lucky enough to now be dating, only thoughts on how to make this an unforgettable experience for the both of them and hopefully kickstart their relationship with a bang. As they turned onto the road that would have them going straight until they needed to turn into the school’s property, they held out their hand to their girlfriend. Girlfriend, ha! They loved saying that, man!

“I do not believe I told you what I preferred to be referred to as, but you may call me your partner or however you wish to phrase it, as I am sure you guessed. I just wanted to clarify as you clearly told me you liked to be called girlfriend,” They checked on their brother in the rearview once more and saw him doing his best to ruin his vision by keeping his book mere inches from his face, headphones still firmly in place. “Considering I have musical partners as well, any neutral term is fine by me if you wish to avoid confusion.”

The thought of how to refer to Yani had only entered Leila’s mind the night before, in the waning moments of elation before she managed to steal what sleep she could; by the time she woke in the morning she realized that partner was perfect already. Still, it was nice to have that confirmation just to avoid any potential awkwardness that could’ve come - though she expected it mainly from the adults in her life who were stubbornly clinging to the belief that it was still the eighties and nineties or whatever. “Partner is good, as long as you will continue to call me yours.” Leila was starting to understand how all the musicians of the world were able to write such timeless love songs or why heroes of old tales always fought for the heart of a maiden.

“I didn’t know you went to a lot of Galas.” She circled back to what Yani had mentioned in passing. There was likely many things she didn’t yet know about her partner, but they would come in time. Yani was someone that Leila wanted to share and make memories with, good, bad, messy, and everything in between. “But I can picture it. Were these Galas things you wanted to go to or things you had to go to?”

“I will call you mine as long as you will let me.” A simple promise. “Our oyaji is very philanthropic,” Yani supplied, memories of hiding under the cloth draped tables with Kisho and other company heirs and heiresses their age bubbling to the surface. As they got older, they showed face more often and actually became a part of the scene. While Kisho wasn’t the most talkative, he knew how to schmooze and work a room in high society, and Yani was exuberant and business minded while never losing their wild streak. The elders took them in with thinly veiled patience while those around their father’s age were more interested in hearing about their plans and ideas, while Hiro Fujimori- always proud of his children interacting and networking- would stay back a step and watch them work while glaring subtly at the crotchety older crowd. “Thank you for asking, but we do not mind them. We had to go to them when we were young, now it is just habit and good practice for any business oriented futures. We are required to go to one gala per season and if we do not, we are to spend a day serving the community in some way.”

Hiro Fujimori was a community man just as much as he was a businessman, and he has strictly enforced his ethics into his children throughout their life. It wasn’t a bad thing, he had an amazing work, family, and community ethic that his children wanted to emulate far more than they had ever been forced to. Their father was a man to look up to, especially in the years since Kisho and Yani had been born.

“They can actually be quite fun, if you know who to gravitate towards, I would love to take you to one,” Yani continued as they neared the turn for the school’s property. “Many of the kids and teens tend to sneak off and find different spaces to decompress from the, ah, pomp and circumstance. Kisho has a special pocket in his suits that fit his handheld system, the little ones crowding around him while he plays Mario or Kirby is just adorable.”

“They are cute, I suppose,” Kisho piped up from where he’d removed the headphones as Yani took their final turn and headed for the parking lot. “The thumb sucking is disgusting, though.”

“They are children.”

“They are bacteria factories before you factor the things they touch everything with being coated in spit.”

“You are just delightful.”

“It is a gift,” The boy deadpanned as Yani pulled into a parking spot and turned the car off. Removing their seatbelt, turning around and sticking their tongue out at their brother, Yani couldn’t help but grin. They grinned even wider as they caught the warm glowing gaze of their girlfriend.

“Are we ready for this?”

“Woohoo.”

“There was no excitement in that!”

“It is the best you are getting.” Kisho slid open the side door and crouched down, about to hop out and avoid the running board completely. Pausing for just a moment, he leaned back with an eye roll and gave his sibling and Leila as genuine a smile as he could muster at the moment. “Have fun tonight, you both look adorable.” And then he was hopping out of the van and walking towards the school with his hands shoved in his pockets. Yani threw their door open and waved emphatically at his departing figure.

“Love you!!” They called across the parking lot, Kisho sighing and lifting an acknowledging hand into the air but not breaking his stride. Yani then scrambled out of the van fully and all but skipped to the passenger side door, opening it with a flourish and holding a hand out for Leila to grab. Looking their girlfriend in the eye and smiling, Yani asked more directly. “Are you ready for this, beautiful?”

Leila was listening with rapt attention as Yani discussed the galas, not just because she had asked and was interested but because she felt she could listen to Yani discuss anything. For once she was truly glad to have to focus on the lips of someone as they spoke in addition to her implant because it meant she got to look ever so longingly at the lips she had kissed. As Yani spoke, Leila understood that the two of them came from different worlds, Leila had never gone to a gala nor was she expected to. Her mother had been to film festivals and awards shows but the only stories told to Leila after the fact was a resounding “it’s even more boring in person than on tv”. But there was no resentment or jealousy or negative thoughts about the difference in upbringing and expectations; on the contrary Leila was flattered and honored that Yani would even extend the offer to take her to one in the future. An offer she surely couldn’t refuse if it arose.

It was with a deep breath that Leila prefaced her response when the van parked and a hand was offered to her. Her first dance. With a partner. No pressure. No nerves. Just pretend that it was just her and Yani. She could do that. And the thought of it brought a smile once again to her face, one that widened when her hand was closed around Yani’s as she was helped onto the ground. “More ready than I’ve ever been.” It wasn’t a terribly long walk from the parking lot to the dance proper, but so long as Leila was holding Yani’s hand and being led towards it, she wouldn’t have minded if it took the entire night to make their entrance. Would that time could stop, but fortunately for Leila the memory of this night would last forever.

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread Number Two

'Okami' treats you like you're a fucking four year old & it wasn't entertaining enough to push past it's slow pace.

@SleepingSilence

Man, Okami is one of the best games of that generation. Unfortunate that you don't vibe with it.

Anyway, Astro Bot is the best platformer in years and is GOTY.

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread Number Two

Black Myth Wukong being used as a sword against the imaginary culture war sucks shit because a review can give it a fair 3/5 score and the worst ghouls possible will somehow spin it to mean reviewers hate Asian people.

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: Sometime after the game
Andrew & Amy
@Hey Im Jordan & @Fabricant451}

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By the time his mother had answered the phone, Andy was already locked into the backseat of the car he’d arrived in. The window between himself and the driver was closed, and Andy held his head in his hands as he spoke in a miserable tone. “Mom? I think I screwed up.” Andy had never even had a truly one-on-one conversation with a girl before, let alone horrendously fucked one up. He just didn’t have the sauce of his brother or father, and now that it had gone this bad? He was already planning to make sure he never had a solo bolo conversation with a girl again.

Knowing that he needed to provide context, before she got concerned, Andy launched into a rant. “I took a girl to the game. She found me while I was practicing in the music room, and then I sang a Limp Bizkit song to her. With the acoustic guitar, y’know? Then, E came in and she got mad and left. But then we texted later and she wanted to go to the game and eat funnel cake… so, I said yes and then we had funnel cake but THEN, she got mad at me. So I kissed her. And I don’t think she liked that. And then her friend — well, used to be friend, I guess she got dumped by her friends. Is that a thing girl friends do? Because that’s what it sounds like happened — showed up and talked a lot and she got all teary eyed and then she left.” He let out a big breath and lifted his head from his hands, instead resting it against the black tinted windows. “I’m not cut out for this. Girls are hard. Are they even worth it!?”

He stopped. And then he started again, cutting her off and hoping to make the conversation as productive as possible. “I smoked weed for the first time.”

Japan was beautiful this time of year, though truth be told it was beautiful every time of year - and Alicia Green would know. Her parents had assumed she would eventually grow out of her weird phase of life where she watched anime obsessively, but then the worst possible outcome happened: she met someone who loved it when she talked about her obsession - especially when he could listen from behind while she watched a show. Alicia had been to Japan more times than most people had been to their favorite restaurant. She never needed a reason, sometimes it was to buy a collectible that was only going to be on sale in the country, other times it was just because there was a long weekend coming up. She loved the country and, unlike most who obsess over anime, she learned the language and respected the customs. Every time she came home, she came back with another physical anime blu ray or a statue of some character that frequently included a busty female character or a robot, and things meant only for Henry’s eyes.

Alicia never felt homesick when she was abroad, but when the phone rang before noon (in Japan time, of course), she initially assumed the worst. Had Henry burned down the house? Had Ethan gotten someone pregnant? Seeing that it was Andy who called, Alicia didn’t know what to expect. He was the quiet one. The ‘nice’ one. She didn’t have favorites but Andy’s rather drama free filled life made it far easier to trust him. By the time he finished speaking - before Alicia could even say hello - she still didn’t know why he was calling.

“You’re going to have to slow down there, Andrew.” She always called him Andrew. It was only when she said his full name that he ever had to worry. “You went on a date?” Her brain was still stuck on the ‘took a girl to the game’ part of the call; the other part of her brain was busy looking through the selections of a doujinshi section at a manga store. She would no doubt have to take the call outside shortly and put her perusal on pause to head towards the door. “Who’s the girl? Do I know her? What’s she like?”

Andy felt like half of what he’d said wasn’t even being responded to, but he couldn’t blame his mother. When Andy called Alicia, it was usually to make travel plans. Andy traveled a lot. It happened when his grandmother was parading him around to show off her little prodigy to all her rich and curmudgeonly… acquaintances. ‘Friends’ was the more natural word, but in his head, Andrew could not imagine his grandmother having friends. He wasn’t even sure if his grandmother considered him a friend. He’d been expected to figure out his own travel plans for the past few years. The first time, he had reached out to his father.

Bless his heart, Henry Green was not equipped to do things like ‘planning,’ on his own. In fact, he had his own personal assistant that typically handled things like that. That didn’t stop him from trying for his son though! One solo plane ride (first class!) to the wrong country with no hotel to stay in later, and Andy learned that his mother was the planner in the family. Now, Andy traveled in a private plane, arrived to a driver, and was driven to a hotel where he was taken care of and able to ‘focus on the music.’ (his mother’s words, not his)

This call, however, was not to plan travel. This was the first time in his life that Andy had reached out to his mother first, but he felt his father would be as equally unequipped to handle a woman who didn’t do everything he said as he was to help him plan a weekend trip. Andy adjusted his glasses. “Yes, I went on a date. Her name is Amy Kwon. I don’t think you know her, Ethan doesn’t like her.” Though Andy didn’t realize it in the moment, ‘Ethan doesn’t like her’ would either be a winning endorsement, or turn his mother against the girl before he even managed to fully make her his. “What’s she like?” That was hard. His experiences with Amy were confusing. They were encouraging and dismissive at the same time. He didn’t know what he was doing - but he had a suspicion that maybe, just maybe, neither did she.

“She’s… difficult to understand. People at school bullied her a lot, she used to be like… a princess. Now, she’s more of an ice queen.” Andy was grasping at straws with his limited understanding of the school’s hierarchy, but he was hopeful he made sense to his mother. “Tonight… she was more like a princess than an ice queen, at least for a little while. I just want her to be like that more often. It seems like she likes me sometimes, but then… Poof! It all goes away and she’s calling me ‘Little Green’ again or something. Girls are hard. Are boys this hard?” Andy had never thought about that.

“She used to be a princess?” Alicia repeated the statement, on the other end of the phone Andy would no doubt be able to hear the eyebrow of his mother raise in curiosity. In her experience, posturing like that was never genuine; this Amy Kwon was probably still a princess somewhere, but was going through a phase. Of course, she didn’t know the girl personally but she had her own experiences with princess types and the key to their heart was strawberries. It probably wasn’t universal, though. “You’ve got a Taiga Aisaka on your hands.” Everything in life, according to Alicia, could be broken down into anime terms. What was the point of still being an obsessed anime watcher if she didn’t apply life lessons to her family from them? Whenever Ethan or Andy had said they didn’t want to study for a test, Alicia made sure to remind them that Naruto didn’t beat Neji in the Chunin exams by not studying his opponent.

“You didn’t call her an ice queen, did you? Here’s the thing, Andrew, when a girl is told by everyone around her that she is or isn’t something, eventually she starts believing it. You just have to show her that you don’t think she is what everyone says. No one goes from princess to ice queen without something major happening in their life. Girls aren’t hard, Andrew, boys are just stupid. Now, what did she say to you before leaving?”

Andy often found himself wishing he liked anime more. He knew it would help him connect with his mother better, but for the life of him he couldn’t get into it. At least not enough to know who Taiga Aisaka was, as he put his phone on speaker and Googled. God willing, there would be a thread on r/characterdiscussions about whoever the fuck this was. After seventeen years of it, the process of anime comparisons was like a walk in the park. The first Google search of ‘Taiga Aisaka’ was completed by the time Alicia was asking if Andy had called her an ice queen. He brushed those responses off, but his tone showed he was reading. “No. I don’t think she’s an ice queen, I think she’s misunderstood. I want to help her.” By now, the search had been refined, and Andy found himself on the Toradora! subreddit. He scanned the words, and found that he only needed the topmost comment to make it make sense.

Toradora! spoilers? I guess?

I make some assumptions about her, but they're based on the details we get about her. She has a complicated, broken relationship with her parents, so she struggles to feel like she can be loved. Her adaptation to that insecurity was to become the Palm-Top Tiger - to be dangerous and push people away. That also leads to her selfish behavior which is a kind of "take no guff and insist on having things your way because no one will do it for you." She's afraid of being alone, and she's afraid of being close to someone and then losing them. The anime is largely her story of working through all of those insecurities.

During Christmas time, we get a different view of Taiga - happy, selfless, thoughtful, easy-going. Very different from who we've seen her to be up to that point. My read is that that is who she is at her best - when she is feeling most secure in who she is and who she is with.

Captain Aric Deron

Andy read, then re-read the text in front of him. He didn’t understand how she did it, but his mother seemed to always have an adequate comparison in the world of anime. He closed the reddit thread, and listened in on his mother’s words more closely, just in time to hear her say ‘boys are just stupid.’ He paled. “She thinks I’m stupid!?” He groaned, digesting the question she’d asked. “When she left? She told me not to follow her. I think she was crying. I told you! We got interrupted. But I did kiss her.” Andy was so proud of that he couldn’t help himself but brag a little bit, before he added a sensible observation. “That when she was most princess like, I think. Right after I kissed her. But it went away fast and she told me I’m not a very good kisser.” Ouch. But he knew he had to be exact, or his mother wouldn't get it.

“No one is a good kisser when they’ve never done it before. Your father wasn’t. Isn’t.” Alicia probably could’ve kept going but even though she was an anime fan, she had the social graces to know that no one wanted to hear about the physical side of her relationship, especially her children. “She said not to follow her so I take it you didn't, which means you listened. But the fact that you’re calling me means you didn’t listen well enough.” There would be time enough for Alicia to congratulate her son on taking the step to having a normal high school experience and actually sharing a moment with a girl, but congratulations tended to come across better in person and not thousands of miles away from one another. “If you didn’t make her cry then you don’t have anything to worry about. If you did then you’re in so much trouble with her that you’d be better off taking some days off of school. But let’s assume you didn’t make her cry, then I have a question for you: Why are you talking to me instead of her?”

Andy stared at the phone that was sitting on his lap, still on speaker. Why was he talking to his mother instead of her? That was a ridiculous question! The answer was obvious: because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know if Amy wanted to hear from. Why would she? He’d dropped their funnel cake. He’d upset her. He’d kissed her without permission. What was he supposed to do? Call her? Text her? The answers were unclear, but his mother was hardly making it clear to him. “I didn’t make her cry! And of course I didn’t follow her. Isn’t that like, illegal? To follow girls, I mean.” Andy asked the question, but he barely let it hang in the air before he followed up with a more important one. “Should I call her or text her? I don’t want to bug her. What if she hates me?” Andy still wasn’t sure how Amy felt about him. It was hard to tell! She was tough to read on purpose, it seemed. “I just didn’t want to call dad. I don’t think he’d have good advice.”

“You really are new at this.” Alicia thought Andy was the smart one, or at least smart enough to pick up what she was putting down, but when someone was stressed enough to call their mother to discuss a bad dating experience, it was understandable that the mind wasn’t thinking fully straight. “Andrew, if you don’t call her, talk to her, send her some kind of message, then she’s just going to think you’re like everyone else and that you don’t care about her. If you like this girl, don’t let her cry again. Just remember what Sanji said: “Men who can’t wipe away the tears from a woman’s eyes aren’t real men.”” There really was no problem that anime couldn’t help fix.

“So I’m gonna ask you again: why are you talking to me?”

Andy knew who that was. How could he not? One Piece was the anime both parents liked, and Andy had fond memories of being dressed up as Chopper for Halloween. Everyone in the Green household knew about Sanji, and Alicia used him to make an expert point. Andy sighed and nodded. “Alright. I love you. Thank you for your help, come back soon. Dad keeps making us watch YouTube.”

“Love you too. Don’t forget to eat actual meals, I know your dad would totally be fine ordering out all the time.”

Andy grimaced, and then tapped the button to hang up. He went to his contacts and scrolled until he found Amy’s.

He stared at it for a few moments. At first, he opened their text message history. He tried to type a message, but words didn’t come. Sentences didn’t form. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain that he was on her side through a text? Andy knew he was late, but he hoped that Amy was one of those people who believed in ‘better late than never.’ The car rolled to a stop, and his door was opened. Andy was out and walking through the halls as he called her, and pressed the phone against his ear. In his entire life, the sound of a dial tone had never sounded so… ominous. Would she even answer?

For the longest time it seemed the dial tone would last forever and the inevitable voice message tone would herald an end to the quest. Three rings turned to four then four turned to five. Twenty seconds felt like twenty hours. Midway through the sixth and final ring, though, the line picked up. Amy picked up but said nothing, no hello, no ‘what are you doing’, not even the sound of her breathing or sniffling back tears. There was simply silence. Loud, forever silence; a dial tone might well have been preferable. Someone was going to have to break the silence and it was clear that Amy wasn’t going to do it.

At least she picked up. There wasn’t any sound on the other end and at first he had to take the phone off of his ear and to make sure that the time was clicking up. Seconds passed by, but in the end Andrew at least understood his assignment. He broke the silence with measured words, “hey, Amy?” A safe start, though he didn’t really wait long enough for her to acknowledge him. Something told him if he had, she simply would have said nothing or worse - hung up. “Are you okay?” The question was so simple and straightforward, but Andy couldn’t think of anything better to ask her. Had anyone ever asked her that? Andy found himself biting back apologies, the urge to say ‘I’m sorry’ for how the night had gone, for being bad at kisses, for Minnie interrupting them was there, but Andy did his best to silence it. Something told him Amy didn’t need to hear apologies tonight.

“What do you want?” Four words that combined sounded worse than any slur or swear in the dictionary, made worse by the fact that Amy’s voice wasn’t barbed or poisonous, she didn’t sound mean but exhausted, as if Andy’s call was an annoying interruption that she had to endure. It was difficult to tell from the voice alone, but even from that brief response, Amy sounded like she was in a cell, the slithering, seductive tones she expressed mere hours before all but gone and replaced by a hollow, monotone roboticism. Amy might not have been crying into the phone, but her voice suggested she had been up until now.

Ouch. In a way, Andy was used to being lashed out at by Amy. At least when she barked at him, it sounded like there was some fire left in her soul. This? This was different. She sounded tired. She sounded broken. Andy should have stayed on the phone longer with his mom and gotten some idea of what to say. He was late in responding again, having to dig through his mind to find the right words to string together. “I want to make sure you’re okay.” He repeated himself and did his best to make sure there was no upward inflection; he didn’t want her to think he was asking permission to check on her. “I didn’t want to leave you alone when you seemed sad.”

“I’m fine.” She lied. Amy didn’t need pity. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want to be coddled or treated like she was broken or whatever reason he was calling her. It was all hollow anyway. People pretended to care only so long as they got something at the end of it; she knew the game. Hell, she had played it herself. “What do you want?” She repeated the question, this time hoping that her intent was clearer: what did he want at the end of this whole back and forth? Everyone wanted something. Even Little Green.

“You don’t sound very fine.” His tone almost fell flat as he responded to her, frustrating mounting as she repeated herself. What was he supposed to do? Repeat himself? He barely understood the rules of the game she was playing, let alone his win conditions. For the life of him, he couldn’t decipher what she wanted to hear. Honesty was the best policy, but it didn’t seem to work. He tried again, this time being more specific. “I want to help you be okay. I know I’m not very good at it, but I’m serious! I just wanted to be… helpful.” There were better words to use, but Andy was too new to relationships to know what to say.

“I don’t want anything from you. But I know what I want from me. Which is to be there for you.” Honesty was the best policy. “It’s okay to be sad, I promise.”

“Stop lying.” Amy’s voice rose in volume, not to the level of shouting, but in the clarity of voice it was apparent she was speaking through still falling tears. Andy couldn’t see it, of course, but Amy’s lips were quivering every time she spoke, as if the simple act of speaking without giving away her true state of being was an Olympic level task. “Everyone wants something. No one wants to just ‘be there’. I thought I told you to leave me alone. Go away. I don’t need your pity.”

She said hurtful things when she was upset. Andy wasn’t sure if he was going to handle it very well, but he was certainly planning on signing up for it. “I’m not lying.” His voice matched her energy, raised with such an uncharacteristic sternness to it that Andy paused after, wondering if she was going to hang up over it. “I’m not here to pity you. I want to take care of you! Why would I pity you? You’re cool. …I’m not good at this.” He hadn’t meant to say the last part aloud, but it slipped out. “I want to be there for you. I don’t want anything for it, I just don’t want you to be sad alone. I can bring you snacks.” That’s what Sanji did, and it worked with varying levels of success. Maybe that bit of his mom’s advice would work well.

“I told you I’m fine. I’m not sad. I don’t have anything to be sad about.” Not even Amy believed her words, but that didn’t stop her from saying them. The shield around her person was strong enough that she was retreating behind it fully. If she told herself that she was fine enough times, she’d believe it. And then nothing could ever make her sad. Or angry. Or anything. “Just forget about me. I didn’t mean anything I said earlier. Just…leave me alone.” It was impossible not to hear the tears in her voice on that plea.

“I can’t just forget about you! I’ve only known you for a day, but it’s crazy how you made me like, full of confidence. I’ve never been able to do anything outside of the box, but I did today. Way more in one day than I’ve done in like my entire four years of high school. You’re awesome, Amy. And don’t act like I’m the only one who thinks that. Minnie was just in our faces practically begging you to be her friend again.” He paused, wondering if his own plea was too heartfelt, but he could hear tears on her voice and it pushed him to keep talking, “it was my idea to go to the game. Then I pushed you to talk about something you aren’t ready to talk about. I’m sorry for that, but I really, really wanna make it better. Don’t ask me to leave you alone, tell me what you need to be better. I’ll do it or try my best. Please?” Andy threw everything he had into doing the one thing he knew he was supposed to: make sure the girl didn’t cry. For a brief moment, he wondered if his parents would be proud of him, but he decided to push that thought away until he knew how she would respond. Aggravated, she was like a snake. And Andy knew he was still in biting distance.

There was a pause on the other end after a sound that was similar to a tissue leaving a box followed by light breathing; whatever Amy was doing on her end required some small amount of effort. When she spoke next, the hint of teary eyes seemed to be little more than a distant memory. “What, are you obsessed with me or something, Little Green?” That was the voice of Amy Kwon on the other end, perhaps not quite as sharp as it was in person, but still enough to draw blood when slicing. “Don’t fall in love with me, I’ll ruin your life.” It was like a warning sign on a tiger pit that was more of a suggestion than a hard rule. Amy knew this. It’s why she said it.

“You still owe me a funnel cake.”

“I’m not even that little…” Andy trailed off as she accused him of being obsessed with her, but he didn’t deny it. He had called her. A lot of the groundwork, that had been him. The attraction was probably stronger his way than hers, but he didn’t see that as a bad thing, necessarily. Her warning of a ruined life fell on deaf ears. Andrew Green was already so far down the path that he couldn’t have turned back if he needed to. The wondering of what could happen washed away any fears and warnings he’d heard about Amy Kwon. She liked him; he felt safe.

“When and where do you want your funnel cake? Strawberries, this time.” He thought she wasn’t crying. Hoped she wasn’t. He didn’t know for sure, and wouldn’t know for sure until he saw her again. “We could hang out more.” He suggested, shooting a shot aimed for the stars.

“That remains to be seen, Little Green.” It was clear to Amy that she wasn’t specifically referring to his height in this instance. She was sure she’d figure that out eventually, but until then she could enjoy the way it seemed to needle Andrew. His mistake was letting her know it bothered him. How could she not focus on knowing it made him squirm and shudder? “Hang out? Are you asking me out?” Amy clicked the roof of her mouth and the disappointing tut tut was as if through a megaphone in Andy’s ears. “Be direct, Andrew. What do you want?”

Familiar feelings were creeping up in Andy’s mind as Amy came to be more of herself again. He felt some relief, as if he were an anchor keeping her sane. But he couldn’t deny it was a bit frustrating she changed between a sad girl and a succubus at the drop of a hat. Was he going to tell her that? Absolutely not, Andy wasn’t stupid. He was just navigating new territory; territory that included being called little. He wasn’t little! He thought about the possible answers to her question in his head, and found himself wondering why it always fell on his shoulders. Andy was never the decider, but Amy never gave him any other options.

“Yes! I’m asking you out. I want you to go on a date with me. An actual one, not meeting up under the bleachers to make out. Somewhere private.” Though Andy suggested privacy because he was worried Amy might have another breakdown, it was left open-ended enough it could have been for anything. “And soon. What are you doing right now?” He couldn’t help but get excited. If she said yes then she could deny it no longer: she liked him.

“You’re going to take me somewhere fancy. And I mean actual fancy, not the second floor of the Top Shelf fancy. You’re going to wear something nice. And you’re going to order wine.” She didn’t care that they were technically not allowed to order alcohol; Andy came from money and Amy…well she wasn’t using him for his money but she wasn’t ignorant of the fact that the right dollar amount got people to overlook little things like the law. “I’m free on weekends.” It went without saying that this weekend was off the table, but she was hopeful that Andy had a good memory. The answer to his second question came with the sound of a notification alert on Andy’s phone and with it a photo message of Amy, specifically her jaw and shoulder with a single visible strap - it could’ve been a bra, it could’ve been a cami strap, either way it was a noticeably and unusually cropped image - no doubt because her face was still puffy or something equally as damning.

“What does it look like I’m doing now, Little Green?”

He wasn’t really in a position to say no, but the idea of ordering wine when he was too young made his head hurt. He’d have to figure something out with his parents, maybe they could pull some strings or something. He’d figure it out, even though their ideas of a ‘date’ were different, Andy wasn’t going to complain about Amy undeniably saying yes. They had plans for the weekend, but Andy made a mental note to make sure he took her out next weekend. It was as he was writing something in his calendar that he got the photo notification from Amy.

He tapped it and wordlessly stared at it for a moment. Even with barely anything visible, Amy was so gorgeous. She was beyond him; they weren’t even in the same galaxy, let alone the same league, and yet… ultimately, she had picked him. Something like that did wonders to the male psyche, and Andy gave a daring answer. “Thinking about me?”

“You should be so lucky.” Amy fired back almost immediately but didn’t elaborate or explain if he was right or wrong. Keep them guessing was always the name of the game. “But I know you’re thinking about me. It’s okay. I want you to. You have my permission to…think about me.” On the other end of the line, Amy was winking, though part of her wondered if Andy even realized what her entendre was implying. He probably thought that was a sin or something.

There was a sharp inhale of breath from Andy’s end of the line, and Andy’s eyes went wide. He understood what she was suggesting, but it seemed the idea of it had sent a plethora of nerves through his body. How was he even supposed to respond? What was he supposed to do? Chills. Did he have goosebumps? Maybe. They weren’t even in person! What was wrong with him?

Fifteen seconds passed before he replied in soft tones. “I don’t really… I’ve never done…” He was shy and so nervous it felt like it took his breath away. Andy’s voice didn’t shake like it had the first time he’d spoken to her; maybe it was hearing her cry, maybe it was just the simple fact she’d picked up after telling him to leave her alone… but Andrew was at least confident enough now that he wasn’t afraid of her. He took a deep breath, and steadied himself. “You have soft lips.” It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do. Most importantly, Andy wasn’t completely locked up. At least not yet.

“I have soft everything.” Somehow, Amy managed to make the word have six syllables the way she said it, like she was speaking in slow motion, using language specifically targeted to drive Andy wild. She wanted him to think on that, to keep it in his mind so he laid awake at night with it, the way awkward memories or panicked thoughts did. She even sealed the sentence with a bubbling titter - for the briefest of moments that laugh flashed of the before times; in that moment she laughed like a cheerleader.

And then it was gone.

“What do you mean you’ve never done…you’re a boy aren’t you? Do I have to do everything for you, Little Green? Well, just remember my soft lips, hips, stomach…for when you have one of those…restless nights.”

Did she just laugh at him? He felt a rush of emotions. Embarrassment was the chief one, but there was some pride in being able to make her giggle like that. For a brief moment, Amy sounded like the princess he knew she was. “I meant on the phone with someone else!” Andy spoke in a muffled voice with his face buried in the pillow in shame. She couldn’t see it, but it was almost possible to hear the bright pink blush that had exploded onto his cheeks. “I need more hands-on experience with how soft you are. So I can remember it better,” he explained as he pulled his head from the pillow. “I’m not little.” He protested, but at this point Andy almost felt like the ‘Little Green’ nickname was a game between them. It needled at him, but Amy put so much emphasis on it that he felt like there was a reason behind it.

“...couldn’t we just have a restless night together?”

Perhaps there was a man to be made of the boy after all. His line was so unexpected that Amy initially assumed he was getting it fed to him, but it was better for the ego to believe that she was just bringing the best out of him - even if the best would turn him very quickly into the worst. “We could, but you can’t know how soft I am over the phone. Are you trying to come over, Little Green? To prove how you’re not so…l i t t l e?” Amy made sure every single letter in the word was pronounced. It was like she had a superpower to make the most innocuous words sound like the most sensual, delectable aphrodisiac possible.

Andy felt like he’d won a battle he hadn’t known he’d been fighting when she didn’t reply. He wasn’t a very good flirter, and the small victories that he got over Amy felt like winning the lottery. Even getting her to catch herself and think about what she said was exhilarating. Did Andy have rizz? Maybe not earlier that day, but by the end of his first night as Amy Kwon’s personal little rockstar, he was starting to get it. Unfortunately, as she purred every individual letter of the word ‘little’ into his ear, Andy felt his heart rate elevate. He couldn’t even string a sentence together well enough to offer his normal defense of ‘I’m not little!’

“I want to feel how soft your entire body is.” He was again letting thought spill past his lips, the words escaping before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying. “I can prove it.” Pride. Confidence. These were new, but Andy was sitting up as he spoke. His head flew through scenarios as he tried to think about how he could get to her house.

He needed to calm down, he needed to think. His mind was rushing through scenarios and not considering possible outcomes, and eventually it landed on a bad ending. One where Amy used this night to tell him that he didn’t care about her, and had always wanted her just for her body. He thought about that, wondered how it would look and if it would even be possible to talk his way out of it.

“We can’t meet up like that tonight. I want to take you out first.” His words were chosen carefully, no longer filled with the bravado that Amy’s unchained sensuality had brought about just moments before.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Amy only sounded mildly disappointed that Little Green wasn’t ready and willing to live up to the boastful claim of being the opposite of little, but the best part of a slow cooked meal was the taste after the anticipation had you salivating. A good predator knew how to enjoy the hunt. How to enjoy the thrill of the kill. “You’re taking me to the dance, of course. And then your little…party. If you’re lucky, we’ll spend seven minutes in heaven, Little Green.”

Andy had never felt this way about a lady before. Did his words make Amy feel special? Hers certainly worked on them. In fact, her words made him feel so special that Andy was prepared to break into her home just for the opportunity to kiss her neck. “We can take one of the bedrooms upstairs for ourselves. I have the keys.” Before he could stop the word vomit, Andy asked the dreaded question.

“Hey, are we dating now? Like… you’re my girlfriend?”

What shows/movies are you watching?

Putting LOST back on Netflix just reminds me that LOST is the greatest show ever

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread Number Two

The First Descendant fucking sucks and that's before getting to the bullshit bad monetization the game has. It's like Warframe or Destiny 2 but for people who think paying 50 dollars to look at virtual ass is a peak gaming experience

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: During the Game (halftime)
Andrew & Amy
@Hey Im Jordan & @Fabricant451
Small FT: Minnie @LovelyComplex}

____________________________________________________________________

____________________________________________________________________

Andrew Green was finding it easier and easier to relax. First with the help of his brother before breakfast, and now with the help of his father, Andy was as high as a kite. Of course, he had to dismiss himself from the group of boys in the basement, but he didn’t even know it was possible to be this chilled out. Laid up on his bed, he scrolled through YouTube shorts on his phone… he was halfway through a particularly good one about how to make a fancy garlic bread grilled cheese, and grabbing the link to send it to the chef to see if he could get something like that for a snack, when he saw the notification icon in the corner of the screen.

Those were texts from Amy… The extremely attractive femme fatale who had cornered him in the music room that morning. Andy had been intimidated, scared, and felt an overwhelming attraction he’d never experienced in his entire life. Infatuation, it was called. Andy had genuinely liked that feeling, and he wanted to see her more, but…

He hadn’t opened the texts since he’d gotten them earlier that day. He’d first seen them pop up during their breakfast at the Sunshine Diner. And it made him so anxious! He hadn’t even opened it yet. He was scared to see what she said, and even more scared to leave her on read. But right then and there, in that moment? Maybe… no, no maybe. It was definitely the weed, but Andy found it in him to open the texts… and see what the devil had in store for him.

To: My Little Rockstar
I know you’ve been thinking about me. Ditch your orbiter of a brother and keep me company.

The second text was sent shortly after lunch, before the pep rally, and it hadn’t been sent with a knowing smirk and a licking of the lips like the first one had; this one was sent with the upward turned lips of someone who was annoyed and considering moving on to the next hapless victim.

To: My Little Rockstar
Don’t ever make me tell you again. Keep. Me. Company.

When Andy Green finally read the text messages, it felt like he was reading his own death sentence. It was so much later than when she’d sent them, if he replied now was she even going to message him back? Would anyone blame him if she didn’t? Andy was so new to this, he wasn’t sure what to do - truth be told, he wasn’t even sure how much Amy liked him. So, he sat up and locked in. Maybe honesty could help him out here.

To: Your Addiction
Uh, sorry. I know I’m late.
We went to breakfast and Ethan made me get high for the first time and I’ve just been zoning out in my bedroom

Everything with this kid was going to be a first, wasn’t it? From the other side of the screen, Andy could likely imagine the eyeroll that Amy Kwon was giving as she read his late response. As far as excuses went, ‘my brother made me get high’ was up there with the dog and the homework. Amy didn’t appreciate being ignored in favor of Ethan Green of all people; it was Ethan who interrupted them in the music room, it was Ethan who needed to mind his own business, and it was Ethan who still backed down and invited Amy to the party anyway. She could handle Ethan Green, but she didn’t want to bother. A guy like that would be his own undoing eventually - all fuckboys wound up in the garbage out back before long, but this was twice now he got in the way of Amy’s satisfaction.

There would not be a third.

To: My Little Rockstar
Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Show me. Prove it.

For most of his life, Andrew Green had never really had anyone talk back to him. His parents loved and spoiled him, his grandmother told him what to do, but he had never experienced someone denying an apology, let alone demanding his attention like this. Is this what it was like for Ethan? Were his girlfriends this demanding? Amy wasn’t even Andy’s girlfriend - he was pretty sure anyway - but she was still acting like he should be waiting on her every whim.

As Andy typed on the phone, he wondered if Amy was staring at the screen and watching as he started and stopped over again. He decided there was almost no way she was, as someone like Amy Kwon was probably texting several boys.

He thought about it.

Probably several girls too.

To: Your Addiction
Uh, okay. How?

That didn’t seem strong enough. He deleted it and tried again.

To: Your Addiction
How do you want me to do that?

He thought about it harder this time. This was better! But it made him feel like he was just going to end up being bossed around by Amy too. Did he want that? He deleted it again. Andy needed to be careful, this was the first time in a long time that he was being thrown into the deep end on his own, and it was his time to see if he could sink or swim.

To: Your Addiction
Is it going to be worth it?

Satisfied, he hit send.

There was only a brief moment between Andy sending the message and getting a response. Amy could have made him wait an agonizingly long time, but letting the food cook too long was a good way to have it burnt and inedible. She had seen the three dots appear and disappear and reappear three times before getting the response, which curled those devilish lips into a smirk; had she a spaded tail it would be coiled and swaying in giddy delight. How easy it was to have this little toy at her beck and call with just words typed on a screen. Amy wondered if she told him to buy her some flowers if he would go through with it. But she wasn’t interested in flowers. Flowers wilted and died around her and she was more like a cactus anyway: Prickly, but oh so sweet on the inside. The question is knowing what was inside the pricklethorns, would you take a bite?

To: My Little Rockstar
Nothing in your life is worth more than me. But my statement wasn’t something that demanded a question. I’m starting to think you’re not really sorry, Andrew. I’m starting to think my time would be better spent elsewhere. You wouldn’t want that, would you?

Send. Stay. Smirk.

Andy was out of his element. Why did Amy even want to talk to him so much? He hadn’t done anything interesting or notable throughout his entire high school career, other than have his last name. He wasn’t particularly handsome, at least not compared to some of the guys around school, and he certainly wasn’t very interesting. Did he deserve all the attention he was receiving from Amy? How had she even turned her gaze onto him? He stared at the phone, reading the response she’d sent over and over again. What did Amy want him to say?

To: Your Addiction
No, of course I wouldn’t.

Andy’s thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button before he ultimately held backspace instead. Amy probably didn’t want him to just say what she wanted to hear, whoever wanted that? People wanted you to say what you wanted to say, what you felt. Andy knew that from music.

To: Your Addiction
Would you?

He nodded to himself as he grinned at the response. Simple, and to the point. Flirting was easy. He tapped the send button.

The little Green was making this considerably less enjoyable. Had he never talked to a woman before? Amy’s smile promptly gave way to a scowl as the wait was about as worth it as a colonic irrigation. She hadn’t asked him a rhetorical question or something that warranted such an inquisitive response and for the grand crime of annoying her, Amy made Andy wait for her response. Seconds. Minutes. Let him stew. Let him learn from this.

To: My Little Rockstar
You are boring me, Little Green. I asked you a question.

Yikes.

Andy stared at the phone for a few seconds. He didn’t have a lot of experience flirting, and he immediately felt like he’d made the wrong move. What was he supposed to do? Just say whatever she wanted? What about what he wanted? The path of least resistance was clear though, and Andy had to decide if he wanted to get in Amy’s good graces, or if he wanted to keep throwing himself at this whole flirting thing.

To: Your Addiction
Can we meet at the game? I do better face-to-face.

That was pretty much, essentially, a boldfaced lie, but Andy wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe if they were in person, she’d at least be in a better mood, or at least not ‘bored.’ Was there anything sadder to hear a girl say? Andy stared at his phone, and could actively feel whatever remnants of a high he had actively dissipating. If his father or brother could see this conversation, they’d both be massively disappointed in him.. he sighed as he realized he was disappointed with himself.

Even so, Andy pressed send.

Amy had no desire to watch a football game, especially not a homecoming game where all the alumni and old sorts who care way too much about high school sports but she had even less desire to simply spend the evening idle and bored out of her mind. Perhaps there was entertainment to be had tonight though if the text chain was any indication the only thing waiting for her at the game was disappointment. Though with a face-to-face meeting in a public setting it was likely that Ethan wouldn’t be around to interrupt, which meant Amy’s claws could sink further into Andy’s supple, malleable flesh. And that was certainly an enticing thought.

To: My Little Rockstar
Fine. You can buy me a funnel cake.

---

Andy was cooked.

Even before he’d gotten a driver to take him to the game (he was way too high to be driving himself around), Andy knew he was cooked. He’d realized it right around when he’d gotten another message from Amy. At first hesitant to open it (Andy wasn’t sure he enjoyed her attitude when she double texted), he only opened it when he was in the car and had realized it was an image.

And looking at it had just made him feel even more fucked! Who sent a boy a picture of their thighs!? It didn’t help that the stupid messages app had an indicator saying that he had in fact opened the message and tapped it. What was he even supposed to say? To do?! A picture of his thighs in return? He’d look like a moron, especially since he was still in the car.

To: Your Addiction
You’re way too hot for me

Andy sent the message, though he didn’t expect a response back from Amy. Absently, Andy tapped her contact information and changed the name.

Your Addiction → Amy

He couldn’t believe he’d left it that long! She’d added it into his phone herself earlier that day. He stared at the phone and thought about it for a little while. Did he like it? Did she like it? Did it even matter? This was way too hard, how did Ethan do this with so many girls!? He tapped the name again.

Amy → My Addiction (Amy)

He’d just have to make sure he had a cute name in her phone as well. He looked up, and realized the car had arrived at the game. He got out and when the driver asked how long he’d be, Andy shrugged. “It’s my first date? I don’t know how long these things take. Like, ever.”

When the driver nodded in recognition, Andy slipped out of the car and made his way over to the Snack Shack, purchased a funnel cake (with powdered sugar), and then triumphantly pulled out his phone. As far as he was concerned, this was going better than well!

To: My Addiction (Amy)
I just got your funnel cake from the snack shack. Where do you want to meet?

The thigh pic had one purpose: motivation. Amy wanted to remind Andy the kind of game he was playing now; this wasn’t chutes and ladders anymore and he wasn’t ordering from the kids menu. When Amy Kwon blessed your inbox with a picture of any kind, it meant you were at her beck and call. A thigh pic there, a collarbone pic here, sometimes an arm or, for the women, a pic of her jawline - her body was an arsenal and she knew how to use each weapon to the fullest potential. She didn’t need to send nudes or even full body bikini or risque photos; those were the tools of the amateur, the people who didn’t truly know how to handle their toys. If you just gave the tits for free, why would they bother working so hard for your benefit? When even the simplest picture of an arm got an unwanted dick pic in return, what was the point of going full on R rating?

Not that Andy had sent her something as crude as that. He was a good boy. At least until Amy was finished with him.

Amy was annoyed that she was at the football game of all places. As she looked at the cheerleaders on the sideline and the annoying pirate mascot currently dancing to raucous applause, Amy spit onto the grass. There was once a time where she was on the sidelines, smiling, doing a memorized routine, shouting cheesy rhymes while holding a pom pom; that was a lifetime ago, but the wound still felt fresh; still felt in danger of opening and drowning her in the loss of blood. She needed a distraction. She needed to be anywhere but here. She needed…the goddamn funnel cake. Bitter fingers tapped out a response to the series of messages sent to her as she turned her back on the game like she was avoiding the gaze from a gorgon.

To: My Little Rockstar
Behind the bleachers. Hurry up.

As Andy headed toward the bleachers with the funnel cake in hand, he wondered if he was going to get any of it. Was that something people did? Shared funnel cake? He thought about it as he walked, and by the time he was nearing the bleachers, he realized that Amy Kwon was not going to share anything. The chances of him getting a single bite of the sweet treat he’d purchased were basically slim to none… at least he got a thigh pic in his phone for his troubles. Was it okay to save it? He’d have to ask.

No, wait. He shouldn’t ask something like that, she’d probably laugh at him. He’d just have to leave it be and open their conversation if he wanted to look at it (or prove to his brother that it existed). He hadn’t thought about it, but as he approached their meeting spot, he realized that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to invite Amy here. She used to be a cheerleader, right?

Andy just kept that thought to himself, and instead approached the back turned Amy Kwon, and tapped her on the shoulder. “I didn’t know if you wanted strawberries or not… so I told them no.” Andy had no idea what he was doing.

Before the voice disarmed her, when the hand touched her shoulder, Amy coiled back like a snake ready to strike out at the threat walking past its territory. She was wound tight and if it hadn’t been Andy that spoke then it was possible she would have swung without consideration. It was this place. The fucking memories. Some of the bitches doing the routine still existed in her phone, in the group chats that she stubbornly refused to leave so they just moved to another one without her. She recognized some of her own moves in the routine. She saw herself in their place. Last homecoming she was there, smiling, screaming her lungs out, going for a post-game celebration and sleepover so they could collectively prepare for the dance. And here she was now, behind the bleachers, avoiding the dirt and crumbs falling through the cracks from stomped feet as attendees climbed up and down the steps.

But that resentment was shoved to the back of her mind, like a dirty room being shoved into a closet, when Andy revealed himself. The spotlight was on her and Amy couldn’t be the miserable ball of anger and hatred; she couldn’t let them see her sweat. And so Amy didn’t miss a beat in her devilish grin when she turned around, her fingers snaking along Andy’s arm in one swift motion, her lips stringing together the exact thing to get the desired reaction. “You should’ve said yes.” Her words gentle but laced with toxic whispers. Her breath hot as she leaned close to his ears, like she was speaking only for him and his funnel cake. “Strawberries are an aphrodisiac.” She could’ve made contact with him in that moment, could’ve sealed the deal with a bristling touch of skin on skin that would’ve made him wonder if he had just gotten kissed while also probably soiling his pants. But instead she just let him sit with her words and the way they slithered off her tongue, rolled through her lips, and tickled the centers of his brain that imagined what they could do with an aphrodisiac.

And then she pulled back. No longer whispering to his ear, but taking in the whole image of Andy like an artist observing their latest work. “This is the part where you feed me your…cake.”

Whoa.

Andy went through a rush of emotions, rapid firing through his brain faster than anyone should have ever been subject to. First? Fear. He was a little taken aback by the way it seemed like Amy might hit him (Andy had never been hit, and preferred to keep that streak going), and even recoiled slightly. He drew in breath without even noticing, but as Amy relaxed almost immediately to the sound of his voice, Andy felt the assault of the second emotion... Infatuation. Had it been his presence that had relaxed her so quickly? Maybe he helped her calm down, helped her relax and feel safe. The thought didn’t last long as Andy let out the breath he’d drawn in as Amy leaned into him.

The third emotion rushed through his mind as quickly as the blush rose in his face. The third emotion was lust, and it reverberated through him with every word she said. Her voice was so… velvety. Was velvety the right word? Jesus, he’d never had a woman this close to him before, and it made his breath hitch and his eyes go wide. He should have smoked more weed before coming here! He listened to her words carefully, and wondered if they could stay in that moment forever. It was good for both of them, wasn’t it? Deep down, Andy might have known that Amy was playing with her food. But at the surface? At the surface, he believed in that moment that he was special to her. He might have cried if he knew the truth.

When she pulled away, it almost pained him to watch her straighten up. In that moment, Andy very suddenly understood very clearly why his auntie and grandmother both loved strawberries so much. Amy wanted strawberries? Andy would grow them himself. When she was gazing at him, Andy was feeling more on display than he had in his entire life, and he’d performed in packed concert halls for his grandmother’s galas before.

“Can I kiss you?”

The final emotion, nervousness, poured over his body.

If Amy had any doubts about her effect on Andy, they were immediately dispelled from his question. It was cute how he asked, cute enough that Amy laughed. It wasn’t the demure laugh of a girl who heard something cute nor was it the painful laugh of a girl mocking someone for daring to speak to them; this was a laugh that, while sounding sweet, was actually quite sinister. Like the rattle of a snake in the grass. Perhaps if his brother were here, Andy would have proper defenses for such a laugh…but here behind the bleachers it was just the two of them. And a funnel cake. “One taste and you’ll want more, Little Green. Do you think you can handle that addiction.” Somehow, she didn’t phrase it like a question. It was a warning. A warning that no doubt fell on ears more inclined to listen for the word of approval and nothing else.

Amy traced a finger along Andy’s jaw, a gentle, deliberate touch that carved its path to his lips, where she pressed her finger against his lips like she was telling him to keep a secret before the finger traveled across the gap back in front of her own lips. Red. Her lips were red. The kind of lips that brought to mind the image of blood. Of a vampire just before their fangs broke skin. The kind of lips that were now pressed against Andy’s. A tight embrace. Warm. She was kissing him, that much was clear; she was in control of the force, the pressure, the fact that tongue was not involved. This was a heavy kiss but not a deep one; from his end it was an act of lust, on hers it was simply…economical. The kiss ended with Amy pushing Andy away in a playful shove while that damned, devilish grin lingered. There was a slight smearing of her lipstick on Andy’s upper lip and Amy drew the same finger that had touched both their lips around the corner of his mouth, wiping away the blemish of makeup. She wondered if that had been Andy’s first kiss.

She knew it wouldn’t be his last.

“Feed me.”

It was most certainly Andy’s first kiss, and his nerves were shot almost immediately as her lips pressed against his. Once she pulled away, Andy felt like he was shaking. Was it visible? Had he ever been this nervous? Even when he fell (jumped) into a tiger pit, he wasn’t this nervous. This girl was the exact kind of girl his mother had warned him about, but Alicia Green was nowhere to be found when he needed her most. Andy was almost willingly going to be Amy’s prey - he’d never had attention like this before, and he found himself liking it.

When she asked him to feed her, there was such a ringing in his ears that he almost had to ask her to repeat herself. Andy knew from experience with this woman though, that was a dangerous move to make. He knew what she wanted, he just needed a moment to breathe and remember what air tasted like. He didn’t know for sure yet, but he suspected the air tasted worse than Amy did. He looked at the funnel cake and at the woman who had asked — no, commanded. did she know it was rude? — him to feed her the funnel cake and he nodded. “Can we sit down somewhere?” He looked around. There was nowhere to sit. Was there a reason they were standing in what seemed to be… the bowels high school hell?

“I guess not. I wouldn’t ask you to sit on the dirt.” He was speaking aloud as he looked down at the funnel cake in his hands. “It doesn’t seem very romantic to feed you while we’re just standing here though…” Andy trailed off and found himself looking down at the plate of funnel cake. He’d never been on a date, and he hardly knew what to expect. But he did know that this? Wasn’t what he’d expected.

Why did boys always have to make things so complicated? She had given him the briefest taste of heaven and yet here he was so willing to cast himself out of the pearly gates all because of some silly idea about ‘romance’. Romance was nowhere on Amy’s mind; this wasn’t a date, this was seasoning up her meal before devouring it. “The cake is getting cold, Little Green.” It was clear in the way she practically spat out the nickname: Amy’s thin patience was holding on by sinews.

Andy wasn’t sure about Amy. How could anyone be sure of someone who talked to them like that? One second, she was going out of her way to make sure that he felt good, and then the next she was speaking to him like he was trash. Like the self-respectless boy he was, Andy obediently cut some of the funnel cake with a fork and then held it up to her lips. Internally, his feelings debated. Was she really good for him? Was Ethan right? Andy had said he was prepared to figure out the answer to those questions on his own, but he was starting to think he might have accidentally dove into the deep end without learning how to swim.

He felt like a moron.

Things were so much easier when they did as they were told, when they were driven by their smaller head - the one they always claimed to be so much bigger than it was - and nowhere was this more proven than with how Amy’s grin turned into a put-upon smile as the piece of sugar-coated fried batter slid its way down her throat. “Well, that’s the second sweetest thing I’ve tasted all day.” The annoyance in her tone was gone. Amy sounded genuine, as sincere and sweet as the powdered sugar from the funnel cake; if the goal was to deceive Andy, to assuage his concerns, then she hoped she was doing an adequate job. But then, she was a little too good at slipping between states.

As if she wasn’t clear enough in her subtle flirtations, she tossed the kid a wink.

He may have felt like a moron, but it seemed she ultimately liked what he did. Andy wasn’t sure about this so far, this was a lot scarier than he thought it would be. Amy could hit him, yell at him, run away from him, kiss him, or take him then and there behind the bleachers seemingly at will. The only safe option to take was doing exactly what she said at any given moment. It was less than ideal, but there was something about the way she acted when he made her happy that made Andy keep coming back for more. When she winked at him, Andy felt confident he felt his heart skip a beat. He fed her another bite, but he was quiet, even for Andrew Green. Questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but he knew they were questions that would go unanswered, and questions that were likely to end the ‘good’ moment they were having.

He fed her another bite in silence, and then looked back out at the game, his ears drawn to the distant sound of music and cheers. This wasn’t the first time Andy had been present for a football game, but it was the first time he’d been present for one without Amy leading the cheer squad. Andrew thought about it, and then he decided to address the problem head on, even as a part of his brain screamed about the consequences.

“I liked watching you cheer. You’re good at it. Do you miss it?”

Andy carefully chose the words he used when he asked, and made sure he was holding a bite of funnel cake in front of Amy’s red lips to ease the pain. There were two scenarios he could think of: Amy could yell at him. Or, Amy could run away. Somehow, Andy knew already that he wouldn’t get an answer. And yet, that didn’t change the fact that he felt like he needed to know more about her. Anything more than ‘is hot’ and ‘can be mean.’ Andy wanted, so badly, to be able to defend Amy to everyone who told him she was evil, but if he was honest with himself… she wasn’t making it easy.

Leave it to a boy to ruin a perfectly good funnel cake feeding mood. Amy recoiled at the question, like she was offended to even hear the words leave his mouth, lip twisted upwards in disgust, eyebrows narrowed downwards as blinking eyes glared towards Andy. “Do I miss it?” The question repeated itself but from lips it sounded like the foulest sentence uttered by humans. Of course she didn’t miss it. What was there to miss? The long hours of practice, having to memorize routine after routine, going home with aches and pains and knowing that if a tumble went wrong then the next trip would be to the hospital? The way people treated her like a princess and showered her with praise and adoration just because she was a head cheerleader? How she could’ve won Prom Queen? How she thought she had friends, sisters and brothers bonded in the sorority of cheer? Laughing together? Sharing memories and comforting one another, gossiping about crushes and doing group projects together? Being able to walk down the halls and have waves and smiles and laughter instead of averted eyes, foul whispers, and hurried steps of avoidance? Going to bed early but staying up late because the group chat was so active and so full of laughter? Of course not. Cheerleading, popularity, it didn’t bring her anything but negativity. Fuck ‘em.

Fuck ‘em.

Fuck ‘em.

Fuck.

“No.”

At least he was getting a handle on the way she reacted. Andy had been prepared for the glare and the tone. He was starting to get a handle on Amy, maybe even more than she knew. He couldn’t control her reactions, but he could control his own. And this time, Andy didn’t immediately shrink away from her when she turned the evil eye onto him. There was a small ember of pride burning in his chest as he stood his ground, even minutes ago he had frozen like a deer in the metaphorical headlights of Amy’s glare. He let her glare at him, but he seemed to be refusing to give her the satisfaction of fear. When she finally gave him a straight answer, Andy nodded. “I think I would.” He commented, though he wasn’t even sure if he cared. “I don’t think it’s fair. How everyone treats you, I mean.” He was playing with fire and he could feel it beginning to burn already. There was no way Amy would have a positive reaction to this conversation, Andy knew that. But Andy couldn’t help himself.

“I want to help you find out who did it. Is that okay?” Almost as a peace offering, Andy held out another bite of the funnel cake to Amy’s lips.

“What?” Amy snapped her question at Andy, as if the words he was saying were gibberish. This was a new thing for her, being caught off guard, on the backfoot; she had to take control back, had to steer the car back onto the road before this stupid naive boy stopped making it fun. Who cares who did it? She didn’t. She didn’t at all wonder who would do something or why and she definitely didn’t spend weeks after the nuke went off pouring through her message histories to see if she ever said something to someone that would warrant such a response. Of course, even if she had been a little rude or mean to someone, the response was like taking out an ant with plastic explosives. Amy Kwon certainly, definitely didn’t care about who fucked her life up. Someone doused the bridge with gas and Amy was playing with matches, what did it matter who gave her the fuel?

“Who gives a shit who did it? It’s done. You’re cuter when you’re not talking, Little Green.” Amy was trying to regain footing, to regain control, but her words lacked the edge that they had moments ago. Andy Green, loathe as she was to admit it, had gotten into her head.

“Well… I give a shit.” Andy said, as he realized Amy wasn’t going to eat the funnel cake he was holding out. He flipped the fork and bit the chunk off himself. He chewed thoughtfully, but at first didn’t reply. Andy could tell that the vibes were… different, he wasn’t sure if that was as bad of a thing as he originally thought. Maybe, if he kept it up, she’d be more willing to talk about it. Did she really want him to shut up? He couldn’t tell. “Sorry.” He apologized, it seemed like the right thing to do. Then, Andy kept talking. “I just think it’s messed up that happened to you. It’s weird more people aren’t on your side. I won’t try and look into it if you don’t want me to.” Andy offered her another bite of the funnel cake, hopeful the combination of the olive branch of telling her he wouldn’t try and figure it out (that was a lie) and the fried dessert would be enough to cool her jets before she barked at him again.

“You give a shit? Don’t make me laugh, Little Green, before this morning, you didn’t know anything about me. You still don’t.” Amy scoffed as she gave her rebuttal, words spilling out before she could think to catch them and contain them. Control was slipping out of her hands and the tempest that had been swirling inside, in the back of her mind, was close to spilling out. No one had given a shit. Why would they? The striking red of her lipstick might as well have been her own Scarlet Letter with the way people treated her. Innocent until proven guilty wasn’t a thing that existed in the social dystopia that was high school. If tomorrow someone whispered the right lie into the ears of best friends, they would start a civil war. It was only going to get worse and Amy…Amy was a victim that everyone blamed. For what? They didn’t even give her a chance to tell her side, to defend herself, as if they were waiting for any opportunity to cut her down because she dared to get too popular without having to tear others down to do it.

So why, then, should she care about them and their system? Them and their hierarchy? Why should she care what they think of her now when they were so easily able to toss her to the side so someone else could use her broken body as a stepping stool?

And why would anyone care to hear her side of the story now?

“Whatever. This…this was a mistake. Tell your fucker of a brother that I’ll stay away from you.” She needed an out. Andy Green was probing and that wasn’t what this was about. She was in control. She wasn’t broken. She didn’t need to be fixed. “Do whatever the fuck you want, Andy.”

“I’d be… willing to learn a few things about you?” Andy threw a final hail mary, but he felt like the damage was already done. Andy was trying, but Andy had already torpedoed whatever chances he’d had with Amy. Was his father going to be disappointed? Probably. Would Ethan be disappointed? Relieved was probably a more accurate word, but Andy hadn’t been able to help himself. He wanted to be helpful, and Amy’s fall had always felt… wrong to him, especially with how quickly everyone seemed to flip on her. If he had this courage back then, maybe he could have tried to stand up for her before it was too little and far too late.

It felt almost ironic to him that Amy was the one who gave him the courage. A pretty girl being interested did wonders for a boy’s confidence. Andy was rapidly realizing he’d made the interested pretty girl disinterested in him with the greatest of ease. The only good sign was that she hadn’t left yet, but Andy wasn’t sure how to take her telling him to do whatever he wanted. There were so many options, so many different things he could do at that moment. A thousand different scenarios rushed through his head, and they all shared a problem: he wasn’t used to Amy being this… not scary.

In a million years, Andy never would have predicted Amy backing down so… decisively. It was Andy’s turn to try and right the ship, to do something so drastically daring that he was almost sure he was going to get it. As he dropped the funnel cake to the ground, Andy’s mind was made up. He stepped forward, and found old nerves creeping up in the back of his mind. It was easier to squash them this time than it had ever been, as Andy leaned forward to press his lips against hers. Andy’s kiss ended faster than Amy’s had, but if the first had been an act of lust on his end, this one was an attempt to comfort her.

He pulled away and looked at her, a hand having found its way to her chin (Andy didn’t even notice that until he broke the kiss!), and spoke. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

The kiss ended before Amy could properly register what had happened, which worked out well for Andy as it saved him from being shoved and possibly slapped in retaliation for a rather bold approach. Instead Amy said nothing for an uncomfortably long time which, when following a kiss, could have been as long as three seconds. What Amy did do was take a step back, causing Andy’s hand to be holding only air. For a brief moment there was a different look in Amy’s eyes. A slight glimmer, a sparkle, a flash of the girl she used to be; it vanished with a blink as Amy’s awareness caught up with her and the lips that Andy had kissed for the second time that night descended into the scowling grin that was so familiar to Andy.

“Clearly your brother got all the talent when it comes to kissing, Little Green.” The snide remark, the venomous tone, the devilish sneer; whatever fragment of the past Amy that almost came bubbling to the surface had once again been drowned. “And look what you did to my cake.” There was now grass and dirt joining the ingredients of dough and sugar. “Tuttut.” Amy clicked the roof of her mouth and shook her head, displeasure writ large in her eyes. “Get me another one and maybe I’ll give you one more chance to impress me.”

The star crossed lovers — if you can call them that — were soon interrupted by a loud squeal. “Who told you already?... wait, waitttttt. THERE’S A VIDEO?! SEVERAL!?????” Minnie in her cheer outfit with sparkly makeup on and her hair in a high ponytail walked to the side of the bleachers where both Amy and Andy could see her, unaware of her surroundings. “Of course it was Cael. I’mma need to spank that booty of his. How dare. I wanted to tell you myselfffff,” Minnie whined, turning as she talked only to freeze when she saw Amy. Growing silent for a moment that felt a little too long, the tiny dancer apologized to the person on the other line, “Sorry sissy, I got to go but I’ll video chat you tomorrow. Promise. See you. Love you. Byezzzzz.”

Hanging up, Minnie’s gaze focused on one person and one person only. Amy. While she was aware of Ethan’s brother, she was drilled since Freshman year to look at Amy. Amy taught her everything she knew. when it came to cheer and helped her relate it to dance, which was the main language she understood. Minnie took two steps closer but made sure she stayed out of their bubble, knowing this wasn’t a bubble she should pop. “I… I don’t get to see you anymore Amy and I don’t know when I’ll see you next but I wanted to tell you that I finally landed rewind reload to full up full down… over the summer actually! I wouldn’t have been able to master some of the harder stunts without you and I really really really wanted to tell you that one.”

There may not be much in Minnie’s head, and she might not understand the politics of the school, or why some of the cheermates exiled her cheer captain, but there was one thing for certain, Amy was someone she, to this day, still looked up to. She wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew Amy’s nudes and texts were leaked but that to Minnie didn’t speak on Amy’s character. It spoke on whodunnit. The contents didn’t really matter. That was nobody’s business. It wasn’t until Amy started hanging out with Toury and Helen that Minnie got scared to approach her. The Tantalizing Trio were intimidating and Minnie didn’t want to cry because they were mean to her.

Soft eyes, a genuine smile, and hope vibrating from her soul, Minnie looked at her former cheer captain with only respect before the sudden thought came to mind. “Oh, oh! I got my first boyfriend too. And I think you’d be proud of me! WHICH REMINDS ME.” Minnie swiftly turned on her heels toward the field, playfully glaring at her best friend.“CAELLLLLLL! You’re NO FUNNN! I wanted to tell sissy myself!” She protested, not really upset but still trying to act the part. With her squirrel brain, she looked back at Amy and eagerly suggested, “If you wanna’ catch up, I still have your number! I miss you… but it looks like I interrupted something.” Minnie scanned Andy up and down before giggling, “Candy approved. You’re wayyyyy better than your brother.” As fast as she came at him, just like a wrecking ball, she was running off to pounce on her friend and bite him. “Bye bye now!”

Of all the possible interruptions it had to be Minnie. If ever there was a way for Amy to return to the world of cheer - though at this point that was as likely as a flying pig - it would certainly have been through Minnie. Sure, they didn’t talk much, or at all, since Amy’s Icarus-like fall, but Amy could see it in Minnie’s eyes the day Amy was excised from cheer: a look of apology, like Minnie was sorry this was happening even if she didn’t exactly know why. It was so easy for Amy to assume that the cheer squad would fall apart without her guidance, without her rhythm and teaching methods, without her warming and welcoming personality and how she had a habit of getting angry and strict when it came to perfecting routines but she always made sure to take the squad for ice cream or shopping as a way of apology.

But they weren’t. They were doing fine without her. Better, even. Thriving. Minnie had perfected a move that Amy had been trying to help her with…and Minnie had a boyfriend. What had Amy ever done for Minnie, then? What had she done for any of them that they didn’t need her? No, that they didn’t want her? Maybe Helen and Toury were right, they were right about so many other things lately. But then why was Amy digging her nails into the palm of her hand and trying to hold back the tears as Minnie bounded away? Why did she want to tell Minnie to wait but couldn’t even open her mouth? Why the fuck did she even come to this stupid game? She could’ve, should’ve, had Andy pick anywhere else. Amy hadn’t been to a home game since the fall…she wasn’t ready after all. The wounds were too fresh.

“I’m leaving. Don’t.” Amy turned her head away from Andy. She refused to show him anything as vulnerable as how she felt in this moment.

As she walked away from him, Andy felt a chill wash over him in spite of the warm Los Angeles air. He was surprised by both the sudden urge he felt to reach out and grab her hand and the very fact that he possessed the will to stop himself from doing so. Every step she took away from him seemed to sting individually and Andy found himself wondering if it was even worth all of this to try and make Amy like him. By the time she was long gone from his sight, Andy was still standing there, frozen by pain he hadn’t known he shared with her. Was it his fault? Had he pushed too hard? Had Minnie’s appearance been too much?

Was Amy mad at him? He didn’t know, and he wanted to ask the question, but she was gone and the idea of texting her seemed… wrong. Andy needed guidance. He wasn’t used to navigating delicate situations like this, and as he walked back to the car he pulled out his phone. Looking down at his family’s names, he first considered calling his father, but wondered if Henry had ever dealt with an emotional woman before. Seconds past, and he decided to skip past both his brother and his father’s name, and tapped on the last one in the ‘Family’ contacts group.

It rang. He wondered what time it was in Japan. It rang a second time. He felt his heart drop for the umpteenth time that night, wondering if his own mother was going to ignore his call. Then, finally, she answered. Before she even had a chance to say hi to him, Andy was speaking — the familiar anxiety had washed back over him.

“Mom? I think I screwed up.”

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread Number Two

I've gotten back into Starfield. That game is chill when just like trying to 100 percent a planet's scan. And now mod support is happening so it's a pretty good time.

What shows/movies are you watching?

After three episodes of The Acolyte I think it's pretty okay.

BHHS: Limitless

CONTENT WARNING: Use of a

perjorative

r-slur

All My Friends

The morning of October 18th

Tristan Rogers hated Homecoming week.

It wasn’t the school pride angle that she hated - though having pride in one’s school was something she also didn't quite get considering it wasn’t the school that was worth celebrating but the teammates and friends made; while others went all out on dressing up (there was no way some of these people actually wore those pajamas to bed especially not all the makeup), Tristan was content to simply slap a pin onto her backpack and call it a day. What difference did it make if she showed up on cowboy day in normal clothes? Cowboys ate a lot of beans, farted, and hated Mexicans and Native Americans. Why were they so glorified just because some guys looked moderately attractive in denim and an open shirt? Tristan suffered her hatred of Homecoming week in silence, but the silence grew louder and louder every year and while it wasn’t likely to erupt like a volcano, she was beyond tired and fed up with the whole affair.

Tristan Rogers hated Homecoming week because it continued the bullshit preferential treatment to men’s sports over women’s. Why was the Homecoming game relegated to a single football game even though the girl’s volleyball season overlapped with football season? Volleyball started in August and goes through December but come that one week in October the only sport that mattered was football. At the pep rally, all hype and focus was given solely to the boys who had a future of concussion protocols ahead of them while other sports got a passing mention and pity applause. Why? Did anyone who cheered for the football team come out to support volleyball? Did anyone who cheered for the football team even know the record of the volleyball team or know that for the past three years the BHHS girl’s volleyball team won state? Of course not. How could they?

People just didn’t care about women’s sports.

The anger and annoyance with Homecoming week and all its excesses and expectations had one upside and that was that it allowed Tristan to focus her aggression in an outlet that was much, much healthier than bottling it up and stewing in unserious misery. To that end, the morning of the pep rally had a fist colliding with a punching bag in the home gym of the Rogers household. It was often difficult to get time with the bag, if her brother wasn’t using it then her father was but Tristan was up early, as she often was, and delivered punch after punch after blow after blow before the sun had even risen. It was eating into her yoga time, but if she hadn’t let it out now then she’d never be able to center, calm, and have the intended yoga experience. Punching the bag was a therapy she didn’t have to pay for, where she could say the tears in her eyes were just sweat and that it wasn’t pain she was feeling but rather motivation.

In truth, she hated that it came to this, having to wake up early to deal with something that tomorrow would no longer matter, but the more she worked the bag the more her thoughts cleared in time with the almost rhythmic punches. It wasn’t just about Homecoming. It was about why she’d never be taken as seriously as an athlete unless she was somehow the second coming of Venus or Serena. It was why people knew who Shohei Otani and Luka Doncic were but assumed Kim Yeon-koung was a K-Pop idol or something. It was why, whether he knew it or not, her brother would have a much easier path ahead of him despite Tristan putting in twice the effort. It was easy for their dad to tell them to ‘Be the best’ when he didn’t know what that meant for someone like Tristan. For a woman like Tristan.

By the time Tristan stopped hitting the bag and dropped to a heap on the floor, the tears wouldn’t pass as sweat.

When her eyes were clear and the anger pushed back down to the back of her mind, Tristan leaned her head against the heavy bag and wished that Chopper was allowed in the room. With all the equipment and weights, the home gym was the only room in the house that Chopper wasn’t allowed inside, but the only thing Tristan wanted to do after a workout was collapse into a pile with Chopper and watch cartoons with a bowl of cereal, an activity her parents said she’d grow out of twelve years ago but one she still did almost every Saturday. Her brothers might have had each other, boys bonded with boys after all, but Tristan had Chopper and honestly that was a much better deal. She could hear him trotting down the hall, aroused by the sounds of movement on the floorboards upstairs, a reminder to Tristan that her alone time was over and she rose to her feet to put on her face for the day as she made her way to the kitchen for a cup of yogurt.

In the kitchen, pinned to the refrigerator, was a drawing that could’ve been a cross between a portrait and a caricature, of a long haired girl in an armored uniform - not a full suit of armor, but a volleyball uniform that had armored shoulder pauldrons and instead of socks there were sabtons and sollerets and in her left hand, arced above her head as if she was about to spike a ball over the net, was a sword whose pommel was a volleyball. When Tristan pinned the picture on the fridge, her family assumed she got it done at the pier or at some carnival because there was no way she was that artistically talented. Tristan hadn’t told them where she got it, but as she stood in the kitchen, plastic spoon in her mouth as slightly bruised fingers tried to find the right grip to open the yogurt, her eyes were drawn, as they always were, to the picture, and her mind washed the annoyances of Homecoming week away in favor of a memory that made her smile.

Flashback: Senior Year, Earlier in the School Year

The second week of school was about the time students began falling back into the rhythms or, in the case of freshmen, only barely started remembering the best route to hit your locker in between classes without being late. Nothing exciting ever tended to happen the second week of school other than a few particularly cruel teachers deciding that was the best time for a quick, pop or otherwise, which only would cement them as no one’s favorite teacher. For students with a keen eye, the second week of school was a week too late to be first discovering the girl with plastic rings on her left hand.

Two freshmen boys, one who desperately needed a comb for the dead animal that crawled on top of his head and made a home out of it and the other who would probably lose the acne if he stopped downing cans of soda before, during, and after lunch, first noticed the girl with plastic rings on her left hand after school one day, two weeks into the school year. The pair of them took the wrong exit on the way out of school and wound up on the quad when they wanted to go to the school bus pick up lot. The unkempt mop head was the first one who saw the girl; his partner in crime was too busy playing a mobile game he was skilled at thanks to two hundred dollars from a birthday card. A quick jab in the elbow got his attention, though, and for minutes the two of them were transfixed.

The girl with plastic rings on her left hand had other identifiable features. her vibrant hair that was somewhere between a dull red and a bright brown that somehow brought to mind a chocolate colored orange, the splotches of paint on her red shirt, and the stickers on her face that caught the sun like a lens flare on every twirl. The girl, naturally, was spinning, arms angled downward at her side, mouth open in a smile that no one ever had two weeks into any school year, and only stopped so she could reverse direction in the twirl. If she had a reason for doing so, it resided solely in her head. The two boys watching couldn’t help but to laugh and snicker as a wicked plan was giggled between the two of them.

They came back the second day to find the girl wasn’t spinning but she was sitting on the grass, minding her own business, paint splotch still on her shirt though both shirt and splotch were different colors. Next to her were students engaged in a conversation and the paint-splotched girl seemed to be focusing on the conversation and nodding along with points as if she was trying to chime in but never spotted the right opportunity to do so. The third day, the boys returned to their observation but she wasn’t there, the fourth day they got closer than before, sitting next to her but far enough away to where it was clear to most that she wasn’t sitting with them. On the fifth day, they made their move.

Their conversation was a little louder than it should’ve been for two people in a place with little in the way of noise pollution but that had been the point. It only took a few minutes of them talking about science fiction in the form of a video game for the nodding girl to nod and a few more minutes beyond that for her to chime in. “Do you like space? I think space is great. It’s great. Space is great. My favorite planet is Saturn but my favorite galaxy is Bode’s Galaxy - it has a supermassive black hole..” She kept talking even when the acne boy interrupted and told her they weren’t talking about real life space. The girl just blinked until the same boy took a sip from his soda can. “Do you drink a lot of that? Is that why you have so much acne?”

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, as what followed next was the bad hair boy raising his voice and standing up, his shadow casting large over the girl who only wanted to talk about space. Both boys started probing the girl with questions, though their tone of voice made it clear they were not looking for answers. Too many questions, too loud, all she could do was shake her head, mouth slightly open; she did something wrong but didn’t know what. But even if she did do something wrong, nothing she did warranted the question from the hair boy and the follow up from acne.

“What are you, like, retarded?”
“Yeah, you must be retarded.”
“I didn’t know they let retards go to this school.”
“Shouldn’t you be on the short bus, retard?”

The pejorative continued like the worst kind of echo chamber in her head, mixed with the mocking, piercing foul laughter from the gleeful boys who had waited a full school week just to belittle and demean someone. But with a loud, dull THLAP the voices of the boys were silenced as a white spherical ball bounced off one of their heads, spilling his cola onto the grass before he joined the sugar water in becoming one with the soil.

“I think you freshies are lost.” Tristan Rogers, still dressed in her practice shorts and black and red uniform shirt, placed her gym bag on the ground as the volleyball she spiked at the little assholes rolled back towards her. She rested a foot under the ball, ready to kick it up into her hand to spike at the boy who wasn’t clambering to his feet. A second THLAP as BHHS’ star setter served the volleyball to the other boy before he could even think of a proper comeback. Both boys were on the grass and desperately wishing they were anywhere else. “Get lost, or I’ll give you something that won’t go away until you graduate.” The boys didn’t have to be told twice as they scampered off, holding a palm to their face as they did.

“Are you alright?” Tristan looked at the girl, who looked back at Tristan.

“I’m Abby.” Abby answered the question. “Actually, I’m Ashley but I like Abby. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Abby, they were making fun of you.” Tristan had never known Abby to be a nickname for Ashley but it didn’t much matter to her what someone wanted to call themselves. Abby was shaking her head to Tristan’s words while she got to her feet and brushed grass from her knees.

“No they weren’t. They were calling me something I’m not. That’s not making fun. But they weren’t very nice so thank you. What’s your name?”

“Tristan.”

“That’s a cool name. It sounds like a knight or something. Like Tristan and Isolde. Have you seen that? It’s not good, I didn’t like it much. Do you want to be friends? Sorry. Thank you. Bye.” And just as quickly as it had started, the conversation ended and Abby spun on her heels and left a still processing Tristan wondering what the hell happened and who the hell Isolde was.

That wasn’t the last time Tristan encountered Abby. The Monday after their first encounter, Abby wasn’t at the quad after school like she normally was, though she did wander. When the bell rang, Abby didn’t go the familiar path to the art club or the equally as familiar path outside, she joined the likes of the freshmen and took to the halls, every step she took seemed as if she was skipping down them, the hem of her skirt sashaying as she glided along. Where she was going she only had the vaguest of ideas, but her instinct told her the gym was the place to be, which was mildly humorous considering during school hours the gym was her least favorite building in school.

In her head, she was whistling, it helped her not overhear the overlapping conversations and sounds of excitement at the end of a school day; the noise internally was loud enough to mute the external discussions of homework, work, in-jokes she’d never be part of, and heavily embellished tales of romance. In her sophomore year, Abby made the easy mistake of listening in on a passing group of upperclassmen talking about how one of them had spent the weekend having sex with Monica Lisewski. “Were you at the art camp workshop too? I don’t remember seeing you there, but Monica Lisewski was there, she had a really nice mosaic piece that took her the whole weekend. I don’t know when she would have had the time to have sex with you, but maybe it was after dark.” It was only after the guy who made the boastful brag stomped off to the sounds of his friends laughing at him that Abby realized she said something wrong. Since then she tried not to interject into conversations she wasn’t part of. It was, like many things, easier said than done.

Tuning out the world around her was helpful. It made things easier for Abby, who was so often accused of living in her own little world. She did, but her world wasn’t one she would wish others could experience but it was a world she was so excited to share with someone, anyone, who so much as poked their head in for a visit. That was why she was on her little journey towards the gym.

The gym, as it so often was, was a zone of disappointment. It was unoccupied other than the gym teachers hanging out by their offices, and if Abby didn’t want to go to the gym for class, she definitely didn’t want to talk to the gym teachers after school. The smile she had on every step didn’t fade, it didn’t even dim all that much, but she was at a loss. All she had was a name and a vague idea of what the owner of that name did, but other than that the circles and company they kept were like repelling sides of a magnet. So once again, Abby found her way outside, though not to the quad - to the parking lot.

Abby didn’t have a car which gave her little to no reason for being in the parking lot, but the exit closest to the gym was closer to the lot than the quad. If given the choice of walking back through the halls to go to the quad exit or take the outside route through the lot, Abby would pick the outside path every time. Inside was stifling, cold, narrow, with bodies packed through the halls like sardines and people constantly touching her shoulder as they sped past without so much as a word of apology. But outside? Outside was warm and beautiful and vast. Outside there were fluffy clouds and fuzzy, buzzy bumblebees, vibrant colors ripe for the palate. Outside was where Flapjack, her pet frog, came from and where he liked to hang out. Many times, Flapjack would rest on Abby’s shoulder or at her side while she was lounging in her back garden - and then he would hop into the pond made for him until he was ready to go back inside.

There was, however, something different about being outside in the parking lot in comparison to the quad; not just the faint smell of rubber and gas or the roar of engines purring to life. Through the din of automobiles there was something different..something that sounded like music and like a rat being led by the piper, Abby followed towards it. As she wandered through the metallic maze of paintjobs and daddy’s bank accounts, the sound got louder, clearer, and words were joining in the festivities. She closed her eyes and paused her steps a moment, her head slowly trailing from left to right as the sound grew louder the more she focused on it. And through the clearing, sitting in the back of a red car, was the source.

A girl with midnight black hair, a sleeveless white crop top that had a toothy-smiling cow with x’s in its eyes, and a pleated black skirt was strumming to an audio track playing from a small device next to her. “Destination unknown…Ruby Ruby Ruby Ruby Soho…” She sang along, her eyes closed, body still except for the effortless way her fingers hit the strings, the words from her lips, and the gentle sway of her combat boot clad feet. Abby stood transfixed, not on the person, but the sounds they were making. When the song ended, Abby clapped. Genuinely. Enthusiastically. And the bass player opened her eyes. Audiences were not always a common thing at the end of the day, but the presence of one warranted the bassist acknowledging Abby with a nod.

“Are you Ruby Soho? That’s a cool name, my name is Ashley Beswick but I go by Abby.”

The bass player smiled, and laughed a light laugh, the kind of laugh someone gave when they were trying to be polite but not rude, and then she shook her head while adjusting the tuning heads. “No, Ruby Soho is the name of the song. I didn’t write it either. I’m Eun-ji Walters, but I go by Ellie. Names are weird sometimes, aren’t they.” The way Ellie spoke was strangely calming. Her voice felt like the wind, a gentle breeze that soothed the soul and refreshed the body on a warm day. If singing didn’t work out for her, she could’ve made a killing reading audio books. Another laugh escaped from Ellie’s lips. “I’m not a singer, but thank you, I think.” Abby had said the audiobook part out loud without even realizing it, but Ellie didn’t seem bothered or upset by it. Not like others.

“Can you play another song?”

“Sure can, Abby.”

Ellie Walters, since the second half of sophomore year, had spent at least an hour after school sitting in the trunk of her car playing bass to an audience of passers-by and brief stoppers. It was as consistent a presence as gravity. After her little performances she would pack up and drive to EZ Park Convenience and buy one blue slushie; if they didn’t have blue for whatever reason she would click the back of her teeth with her tongue and debate if getting a purple one was acceptable or if she could mix two together to make blue. The actual flavors associated with the colors didn’t matter, it could’ve been blue raspberry, blueberry, or something called blue thunder, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was blue and blue was the best color of a slushie. She accepted no other substitutes. Life for Ellie Walters was pretty routine like that; the lack of a blue slushie was the closest life came to interrupting her routine.

Until Abby began listening to Ellie’s playing.

The first day, Abby left after hearing the second song (Spiderwebs by No Doubt) because she remembered something she was supposed to be doing. The second day, Abby stuck around a good half hour, and by the fourth day Abby was sitting next to Ellie in the back of the car. At first, Ellie didn’t know what to make of the audience member, but Abby was a surprisingly chill hang and interesting conversation partner in between songs.

“Is she a bad dancer?” Abby asked one day after Ellie had finished trying to match the bassline in Dua Lipa’s “Don’t Start Now”, prompting a gently raised eyebrow from Ellie. “She’s telling someone to walk away so they don’t see her dancing with somebody. She must be a bad dancer.”

“I think it’s more that she's moved on from an ex and she’s saying that if he doesn’t wanna feel jealous he should keep walking away.” It hadn’t been that long since Abby started hanging out with Ellie after school, but Ellie had already learned the best way to talk with Abby was to simply engage with her rather than dismissing it as wrong.

“Do you have an ex that you don’t want to dance with? I’ve never seen you with someone, though I don’t really see you other than sometimes in passing or after school.” Of course, there were some times where Abby’s topics delved towards the…unwanted, but Ellie, as always, just let it roll down her back.

“I have exes. I’m not with anyone right now. But what about you? The way you talk about that Tristan girl…someone’s got a crush, huh?” When Ellie asked the question, even in jest as she was, Abby began shaking her head like Abby had just heard something as harsh to the ears as nails down the chalkboard.

“Oh no no no, I don’t have those kind of feelings for Tristan, I just think what she did was really nice and cool and I still haven’t managed to find where the volleyball team practices. No one seems to know when I ask.”

“Have you tried asking Tristan?”

“I haven’t seen her since. Maybe she’s not even on the team, but I don’t know why else someone would walk around with volleyballs and have a uniform.” Ellie, at that point, nudged Abby in the side and pointed towards the blue Jeep Wrangler that Tristan was putting bags into the back of. The grin on Ellie’s lips remained as Abby rushed off to speak to Tristan while Ellie just continued her bass playing as normal.

A week and a half after Abby had been joining Ellie during bass practice, Ellie was back to a solo act. Abby didn’t stop hanging out, she simply stopped hanging out every day. Abby instead spent many of her days after school sitting on the side stands while the volleyball team practiced. She went unnoticed the first day and on the third day the team’s libero made a point to let the team know that “she’s here again”. It was weird; practices weren’t known for having guests, let alone for a sport that wasn’t football, but Abby kept quiet and didn’t bother anyone so what harm was there in letting her observe?

The rest of the team had no problem ignoring her, but Tristan kept noticing her. Abby wasn’t distracting with her presence, but it wasn't a coincidence that the day after she spoke to Abby and told her when the team did practices was the same day Abby showed up the first time. Every practice Abby did the same thing from the same seat. She periodically looked up at the court when Tristan was calling spots during scrim play and she would go back to her paper during warm ups or runs. Every so often during a reset, Tristan would look to where Abby was sitting, shake her head in confusion, and go back to focusing on practice.

And just as soon as the team started considering her an unofficial mascot, Abby stopped showing up. Tristan knew why, of course. After practice near the end of September, Abby waited for Tristan outside to hand her what she had been working on. “I didn’t know how to really thank you for what you did with those two boys but because your name is Tristan like the knight I thought you might like this. I’m pretty proud of it, I tried to make you look cool.” A drawing was placed in Tristan’s hands. A drawing of Tristan in knight armor in her spiking pose, holding a sword with a volleyball pommel.

“This is…me?” Tristan looked at the drawing and words struggled to come to mind. Her first piece of fan art and she hadn’t even gone pro. Did her brother have fan art? Fuck, she hoped not. “You made me look…badass.”

“I made you look how you are.”

There was a moment of silence as Tristan kept looking at the artwork while trying to keep herself from tearing up at it while Abby was simply smiling, as she always was, and hoping Tristan liked it. Abby couldn’t quite tell, but considering it wasn’t being ripped up she assumed it was liked just fine.

“There’s a little hang-out to-”
“Do you wanna get a slushie with Ellie Walters and me?”

The two girls spoke at the same time but only Abby continued on when she realized it. “A…slushie?”

“Yes. It’s like flavored ice with different colors. Ellie likes blue, I don’t know what specific flavor, she just says blue-.”

“I know what a slushie is. I was trying to invite you to a party tonight at a team member’s house. I wasn’t really looking forward to it, but I thought since the team already knows you…what’s the harm,”

“Oh. No thank you. I don’t really like parties. If you don’t want to go, why are you going? Just don’t. Get slushies and go bowling with Ellie and me instead.”

“Fuck it. Sure. Slushies and bowling.”

Tristan only went bowling with Ellie and Abby the one time, not because she disliked going, but because she lost the game and kicked the ball return station hard enough to leave a dent which got her banned for two months. But where before Ellie had one consistent audience member, now she had two - though Tristan only really came around to check up on Abby like a concerned parent or, more accurately, a protecting knight. She always stayed for at least one song.

October 18th, during the pep rally

The afternoon of the pep rally saw Ellie in the back of her car as usual, a blue slushie slowly melting its ice into a more palatable liquid form next to her, and on the other side of her was Abby, sitting cross legged, pressing her fists into her cheeks while drinking her red slushie through a straw. “I think I finally understand the lyrics of a song you listen to. I’m also bored and going blind. But that might be the sugar liquid. What’s funny?”

Ellie snickered at the statement as Longview by Green Day came to an end, with Ellie setting the bass to the side for a moment to turn her tongue blue. “He’s talking about masturbating, Abby. Doing it too much makes you go blind.”

“It does? But the health teacher last year said masturbation was healthy and fine.”

“It is. The blind thing was just superstition.”

“Do you masturbate, Ellie? I tried it once but I think I did it wrong.”

“I’m a single teenager, Abby, That’s my answer to that question. I wouldn’t worry about doing it wrong, if you didn’t like it, you didn’t like it. But you’ve got a point. It’s a bit boring. Wanna catch a movie or something?”

“Oh good, you’re here.” Tristan paced towards Ellie’s car with annoyance in every step. “I can’t handle another minute at that fucking pep rally. Rah rah bullshit for one team just because they’re boys. My stupid brother is doing shit with my idiot younger brother and stupid Mikey isn’t responding to my texts.”

“Who’s Mikey?”

“Her fuckbuddy.”

“My ex.”

“Do you want him to see you dancing with someone else?”

“What?”

“She likes Dua Lipa. But what’s the deal with you and Mikey, are you back together?”

“Ew, no. But I don’t want to show up at Homecoming dateless and he’s my best option.”

“I’ll go with you.” Abby said it without thinking, which was how she said most things. Both Ellie and Tristan turned their heads towards Abby, who was still absent mindedly drinking down her slushie. “Like as friends. I don’t really like dances but you’re my friend so I’ll help you. But I need to get an outfit.”

“I didn’t agree to-”

“Aw come on, going with a friend is way more fun than going with some guy who only calls you when he wants to fuck.” Tristan was going to regret ever telling Ellie about her situation with Michael O’Connor, but she could admit that there was a point being made. Why work so hard for a guy she didn't even like?

“Alright. Ellie, could you-”

“Yeah, to the Mermaid. You riding shotgun, Tristan?”

“Obviously.”

Ellie put her guitar in its case while Abby crawled into the backseat from the trunk. The three rather unlikely friends piled into Ellie’s car which hummed to life with an engine as smooth as Ellie’s voice. “Hey, Tristan, do you masturbate?”

The only one laughing at the question as the car pulled out of the parking lot was Ellie.