#yes you absolutely can leave an emoji sorry it took me like 2 weeks to process this LMFAO

[miekasa]

eren loves to sit criss-cross applesauce with you whenever you’re doing a facial on him and he’ll ALWAYS remind you to “grab your little make-up headband thingy…the one with ears” so that his hair isn’t in the way and it has these little cat ears lol he’s so cute :( so much so that now, instead of using your own on him you bought him his very own (w the cat ears) so now y’all are matching and whenever he goes to your place, he’ll ask you or you’ll ask him if he wants to do a facial with you, you always pull out an extra headband for him, HIS headband and his little baby hairs sit so nicely they will sometimes peek out when you put it on him (*sobbing*). his initial reaction to the brand new headband you bring out just for him is so cute. he’s in awe and kind of flustered at the fact that you bought him his own little headband, one that matches yours “for me?!” he goes. he loves you so much, he never misses a chance on doing small things like this with you even if it means it’s just the two of you sitting on your bedroom floor (he would prefer it this way over anything) k bye !!

- (if it’s ok i’m gonna leave an emoji so when i come back yk it’s me !🧵)

He’s so :(( when he realizes you bought him his own, like his eyes are huge and he’s so stunned because, like... he takes up space in your mind... he takes up space in your apartment... he’s got his own things in your place, just for him and no one else... he loves you so much, just thinking about it makes his head spin. He loves getting babied, even if he’s bratty and/or shameless in his attempts to get you to baby him; once Eren has a taste of affection and being pampered, he’s gonna cling to it. He sits criss-cross anywhere you need him to—on the bed, on the floor, on the couch, on the toilet seat—close his eyes, and do a little wiggle when you tell him you’re gonna use the first product.

The whole thing is calming and relaxing by nature, sure; but what really gets him is that you offer to take care of him, and that you seem to like doing it. It’s mindblowing to him that you choose to love him like that... gets too emotional if he thinks about it for too long (so, if he makes some cheeky move like pulling you to sit in his lap, or commenting about how to spent a lot of time around his lips, that must mean you wanna kiss him—then just know that’s Eren covering up the wave of emotions surging through him, by trying to turn the pressure and teasing onto you instead).

#🧵 anon #yes you absolutely can leave an emoji sorry it took me like 2 weeks to process this LMFAO #i... put it in my drafts and forgot 😭😭😭 #hes such a baaaaaaabieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #eren.ask #yeager.ask #i need a new ask tag for him bc theres a year's worth under eren.ask already 😭😭

[clumsyclifford]

bella I would love a directors cut on literally any of the rilex you’ve written, but specifically it’s always her, and you, and me, or for these days you’ve been stuck in my brain 💙

OHHHHHH those are some CHOICESSSSSS lucy. fuck yeah. let’s get into it. ill link them both here but we’ll take em one at a time

it’s always her, and me, you

these days you’ve been stuck in my brain

here’s a cut for convenience cos i KNOW i’m gonna go long here.

okay! let’s start with the rilisex fic.

it’s always her, and me, and you

so like it says in the ao3 notes, this fic came from realizing just how frequently rian and alex kiss each other like, all the time? just? casually? for funsies? this was another one of those situations like i mentioned where the hook aka first line (“Rian's no expert, but he doesn't think normal friends kiss this much.”) just appeared in my head and i was like heyyy that’s a GOOD first line. i have to build from that line. that’s the hook, that’s the summary, that’s the core. 

something i discovered upon searching through the editing history of the doc: i had originally sort of intended to go a direction with this where in some other circumstance, rian would see alex giving jack a super casual friendly kiss and he’d get all sad/jealous and be like sure why SHOULDNT alex kiss jack after all its just a thing he does with his FRIENDS. but the fic ended up going a different way and honestly? im glad. i like this way better.

the role of singin in the rain in this fic actually has a HILARIOUS backstory because the night i originally wrote that conversation in the tour bus kitchen, i went into the club and said the following

and then. the next day. rian streamed with ricky, and i asked if he’d ever seen singin in the rain, and he ANSWERED ME and said he hadn’t. so first of all i had already written the scene and i then had to rewrite it to make it so rian wouldn’t have seen it but also!!! i literally asked rian fucking dawson if he’d seen a movie for the sole reason of using that information for fanfiction!!!! and he provided me with the information i needed!!!! whole thing is just fucking hysterical to me. ANYWAY.

ANYWAY, the other reason why sitr has such a big role in the fic is because megs and i watched the movie together while i was in the middle of working on the fic, so it was extremely fresh in my mind. in fact i can probably show you this: i had this comment left for myself when i was kind of trying to figure out if i could make a real metaphor of sorts with the sitr ot3 and the Big Three of this fic. some of this ended up in rian’s wild musings in the hotel scene but i did conclude that it wouldn’t really have worked and that was definitely true but anyway. fuck it, director’s cut, here’s the kind of shit i leave for myself to refer to

so that’s part of the reason why it became such a puzzle piece of this fic, but real talk, it’s also just because i love singin in the rain it’s one of my favorite movies lmao

briefly gonna also touch on lisa and why she’s in this fic because i realize that rian/alex/lisa is an interesting approach to rilex! first of all, i love lisa. i love alex and lisa. and it occurred to me that there was really no reason to split lisex up just to make rilex happen. plus there’s this tweet that really just pushed me over the edge of being like yeah, rilisex is extremely plausible. so that’s that on that.

as for the scene in the hotel room while they’re watching sitr, there is a small piece of that scene - from when alex starts kissing rian’s shoulders etc to “it would defy the laws of nature not to” - that i actually wrote before anything else in that scene. that small piece got stretched out and edited quite a bit from how it started but it did function as a sort of foundation around which i built the rest of the scene, because that small section sort of ~came to me~ absolutely out of nowhere, and i really liked the Vibe it had and i wanted to include it. i THINK that was the only piece of this fic that i wrote Out Of Order - for the most part this was written chronologically.

ALSO!!! omg this is exciting, this fic actually has a deleted scene!!!!!! i hate cutting scenes but i also hate having scenes that are less than 1k and this one didn’t really contribute much to the fic. i can probably share it here right? sure why not ! hopefully you can read this. it originally took place after the scene where alex and rian call lisa for the first time. the question of “what gets left into interview videos and what gets cut” is also just interesting to me as a (fic) concept in general so...eyes emoji, but here’s my mini-exploration that i cut from the original fic. enjoy lol it’s silly <3

oh! also one more thing!! the very final scene was included for two reasons. the first reason being that when i write getting-together fics, i really prefer to add on a scene After they Get Together because i love to write domestic established relationship stuff and i think that’s a satisfying reward for a reader who’s just slogged through all the mutual pining and bullshit to get the characters together. but the OTHER reason is that i got an anon (here it is!) and i read that ask and was immediately like well shit. now i have to fucking include this. for the anon and for myself. so you can thank that anon for that last scene. (also i wanted to include merrikat especially since i had to cut their little moment in the interview scene above.)

so....................whew. i think i’ve bled that fic dry. holy shit that’s a lot of Stuff. OKAY! let’s move on.

~

these days you’ve been stuck in my brain

so!!! THIS fic was the breakthrough after (what felt like) a long bout of writer’s block. long for me was maybe two weeks, but i am the kind of person who is always writing, and two weeks was a long time to go with little to no inspiration/motivation to write anything. i had also been in a weird narrative headspace because i’d been binge-watching disney shows (jessie > austin and ally > girl meets world) and i don’t know how well i can explain this but the way those shows are written is a lot snappier and cares way less for realistic and consistent character development or plots or relationships, and so i was stuck between caring a lot about including those things in my fics but also being unable to conceptualize them in writing because my brain was in Disney Writing Mode. does that make sense? this is rhetorical so let’s go with yes. so anyway. i was in a slump

actually what i ended up doing was basically googling something like “au prompts tumblr” or something and just scrolling through posts. i saw something about soulmate telepathy and i actually tried to write something totally different before i wrote this one, but the first attempt was a different concept and then the direction i took it was like......it wasn’t quite right and i realized that i was kind of writing dark disney style? there is really no way for me to explain what i mean by that because it seems really obvious to me but that’s just because i’m inside my own head so just take my word. 

anyway. attempt #1 of soulmate telepathy rilex went poorly, and this fic was attempt #2. i kinda took the soulmate telepathy thing and changed it as i saw fit and i also went back to skim helen’s telepathy fic because obviously she’s the pro and then i tried not to steal her ideas. and as i was writing it i kinda realized i was doing the whole quirky funny best friend character with jack and also doing the whole “somehow this not-very-dramatic situation with teenagers is treated as The Most Dramatic Thing Ever and that’s totally normal and nobody finds it strange” disney trope with rian and alex being soulmates and i was like (deep sigh) i have to accept that no matter how much i try to fight this, this fic is going to be tainted with disney. and that’s life

on top of that i will add that the real-life rilex were extremely inspiring during the two-day period during which i wrote this fic, because that was when the once in a lifetime video came out and in the brief pre-video livestream rilex were Beyond Married and that definitely helped in the writing of fic rilex!

hmmmm what can i tell you about this fic itself.................honestly, i don’t think there’s much to tell! rian is a band kid because in real life rian was a band kid and he’s staff manager at rita’s just like he was in real life. there is truthfully not a lot to unpack here that i can think of!

oh here’s something i guess: rian and alex go on a date in this fic! that is because watching So Much Disney made me realize that i often forget the fact that people just. go on dates. sometimes. look i clearly do not have an active romantic life but i also really liked the idea of alex and rian going on a date despite not knowing if they’d be soulmates or not and liking each other organically just by getting to know each other, rather than being victim to the whole soulmate thing. like i wanted them to build a connection so that they would want to be soulmates. and then the audience would want that for them too. stakes!! very important.

i can tell you i had a mild crisis over the title of the fic because i am not a fan of the word brain and i didnt wanna use that sticky lyric for the title when it had a word i hated but it was objectively a much better title option than the other one i had, which was “sticky just like the song in my head” but i obviously decided on the former and it has not upset me nearly as much as i expected it to so that was the right decision imo

so! i think that’s all on that! sorry (?) that it got so long although then again i don’t know what’s to be expected in a director’s cut for two long fics but thank you for asking me about these, i love them both so very much rilex is so supremely underrated but so very important

#cashtonasfuck #ask #answered #this is a whole ass multimedia fucking presentation #you asked for the director's cut but like i sure as hell didnt hold back dflkhggj #in fairness you picked two longer fics #though most of my rilex fics are longer ones which is strange #but like good for them #director's cut #this was really fun #thank you lucyyy <3 #these were the good right choices for rilex fics to dissect because the other ones are either shorter or rilex is a background pairing #or like . just aint that deep #i stole the plot of something unpredictable from that other fic by that other person #so ya know #the fact that this response contains an entire deleted scene in a screenshot #this is a lot lmfao

[retrorealeyes]

stomachache

sdfjsdkfhsk I don’t know what this is going to be. I quit twitter so I could stop being addicted and do better in school but nooooo I need attention/my words in the public eye

I have a fucking headache, fucking stomache overall I’m not doing well. (this maybe because I woke up 3 hours ago and I still haven’t eaten because i’m avoiding mother you will see below)

“Why?”

Because my mom saw my BEN SHAPIRO RAPE ART. (to clarify it was post rape or whatevr idk if it even implied rape, but there were naked people,no sex but it was implied to be about sex and not like “anotomy” or something so I cna’t play it off)

“What?” or maybe even “WHAAAAAAAT?????!!!”

Basically it was a joke with a twitter friend, I made of my own accord randomly. Lewd thing’s include

-ben shapiro has no pants

-ben shapiro has his GIANT DICK OUT (2 balls, probably not accurate, basically no references, but it’s obvious it’s a penis,no matter how crude)

-there’s a girl lying in front of him, basically naked, the outline of her showing (tits) touching his dripping dick

-there’s another girl, lying with her butt facing the outside of the drawing

None of it is “detailed or accurate” it was drawn as a joke. But it doesn’t matter. It’s NSFW and my mom had TIME to examine it and whatever other words are on the notepad. I hid it now so I can’t look at it but there’s that. And she wants to talk ABOUT IT.

Also to clarify we’re Indian which is relevant information because it tells you the following:

-we’ve literally never discussed sex,etc. she just lets the school teach me

-i “shouldn’t knwo this stuff” even though I should

-very conservative even if she votes democrat

-etc. etc.

-and ‘m not doing well in school so obviously she has full eprmission to be mad at me over anything EVEN IF IT WAS THE NOTEPAD I LITERALLY WROTE ALL MY HTOUGHTS IN AND LEFT OUT (not to the ben shapiro page) TRUSTING HTEM NOT TO SNOOP BECAUSE I’D SEVERAL TIMES RECENTLY TOLD EHR AND MY DAD NOT TO SNOOP BUT NO SHE DOESN’T CARE THAT I LITERALLY CAN’T TRUST HER WITH MY STUFF EVER AND THIS IS WHY (not this exactly but my parent’s oppressive take to parenting and my dad’s angry outburts have definetly contributed largely) I CAN’T OPEN UP TO THEM OR MY FRIENDS OR ANYBODY,,,, EVER

-i’ve primarily learnt that shit from the internet, though very accurately, I don’t want my internet access taken away because a.school b. I kinda NEED it

SO obviously I have to lay it off as a. just a joke b. not talk about it because she was snooping (which makes me seem suspicious) c. say I drew it LONG AGO and AS A JOKE d. ignore it until she forgets/realizes she cna’t question me on it (v. hard lot’s of avoiding, will probably take away my interent) or even e. I drew it intentionally to see if she’d noop, but tthat takes away my moral high ground because now it’s bait that I left out + she’ll catch my bluff

It’s possible i acted macho enough in the morning when she asked me about it, she’ll leave me and my burgeoning sexuality alone (I’M KIDDING IT WAS A JOKE NOT A HORNY THING I STG). Plus she’s nosy as fuck (as evidenced) so probably not. Plus she stole my computer after I did that, while I lay in bed, so she’s gonna be petty.

SO I guess I’ll avoid her and play up the macho (b.) and fall onto a variation combination of b& c if she presurizes me + if further pressurized uphold my moral high ground in draiwng hta t(it’s normal, a joke, it’s my stupid head pad, we learned shit in shcool) nad the fact she shouldn’t have snooped. If she asks what it is I’ll say somehting like “”naked people,, I’ve seen people draw >boy parts< in shcool as a joke”

(this story ft. the first line of CaliforM.I.A. from Black Friday)

PLUSPLUSPLUS I should be doing my hw but all my supplies except my lapttop are outside my rooma nd my mom HAD to go snoop on my NSFW ABSOLUTELY FUCKIGN SHITTY JOKE ART so I’m oretty stuck

plus I cna’t go on twitter so I have no outlet

plus i stayed in bed because mom woke we up wiht that real nice line, “I saw your art, we need to talk about it” (I forgot where this point was going but, yeah)

I need to change into normal clothes

I’m hungry

I skipped my first class just becuase I--- couldn’t after that WONDERFUL morning and last evening (which I don’t have the will to elaborate on, just assume I didn’t sleep well and that yesterday was similarly but not excessively shitty)

My crush (who I haven’t messaged back for two weeks, yes I have AVOIDANT TENDENCIES and there was no reason to avoid it i’m just a frigging bitch and YES I do hate myself I’m actually really fucking sorry and my parents [it’s implied he hasa crush back so that’s nice] would never let me date him but we can dream or whatever)  called me last night apparently (I didn’t see it) and left the messgae “>:(” (jokingly) so I’m tempted to apologize and send the art i drew of him (luckily I have pictures on my comp. before my mom took my ohone away) as a sort of “will this do as sacrifice lol” IDK I’M BIG DUMB DUMB, YEAH?

i’m doing shitty in school

help

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

school

i have no motivation

I HAVE ALL FS AND I’M INDIAN DO Y’ALL KNOW HOW PRECARIOUS MY SITUATION IN BECAUSE IDFK WHAT I’M DOING

there were a few otehr things but honestly i forgot, mayeb they were like “i’ve been avoiding clubs, friends, etc. and i’m still not able to do well in school”

and i’m hella thirsty (source of the headache + my stress i believe) but i refuse to go down :disappointed face emoji:

sorry for the incessant spelling errors, this is literally a freaked out tired rant. I’m going on a walk now which involves going out of my bedroom and passing mother dearest so Imma be fuckign sick. SOrry if you read this mess this far. I hope YOU’RE having a good day, because i’m NOT.

hErE cOmE tHe fUcKiNg wOlVeS (I hear y dad go downstairs and i don’t think he’s seen IT because he claims, “I’ll never snoop if you tell  me not to” but guess what? he still keeps trying snoop. so it’ll be hella worse if he has. I thought my lil sister was down but she’s up so I guess I don’t have protection from confrontation any way)

also ft. freaking out by the wrecks (proabbly) though that was mainly wednesday (2 days ago, also when I did no hw despit eit being a free day and quit twitter though I still need a coping mechanism and look where THAT got me (addicted to journaling, scrolling tiwtter and saving tweets instead of liking htem so nobody knows I’m there adn TUMBLR))

[artificialqueens]

We'll Be Lovers for Sure, 2/2 (Scyvie) - Ashley

It’s the final year of sixth form and stress levels are high for Yvie as she balances school work, Uni applications and her “part-time” job in a kids activity centre. However, things only get worse when her boss decides to hire his privately educated, definition of privilege daughter, Scarlet, as their marketing assistant and she rubs Yvie up the completely wrong way. Until, of course, she doesn’t. (Read Part 1 here)

Thanks again to Grapefruit and Ortega for all the help xxx

Throughout her eight years of education, Scarlet had only ever been late twice: once in year five when her Dad’s car had gotten stuck in the snow and they had to push it out of the drive, then again in year twelve when Pearl left her phone in the Urban Outfitters changing rooms on their free and made Scarlet drive her back to get it. It was her ultimate pet hate. Which was why she felt like the biggest dick on the planet standing in the hallway of her sister’s dance school furiously peeking her head through windows at the grand time of seven fifty-two, almost twenty-five minutes after she was due to meet Yvie.

“I’m so so so so sorry, I’ll be there soon xx”

She typed quickly as she paced the halls, no time to think and stress over how many kisses to send or whether she should have added emojis like she normally would have. If Yvie was difficult to read in person, Scarlet had discovered over the past week that she was even harder to understand over text as they’d gone over the plan for their date. A plan that was currently unravelling like a broken cassette tape before her eyes, too far gone to wind back up by the time she found her sister.

“Oooh, you look nice!” Lemon exclaimed as she left the studio, already trailing behind as Scarlet did her best attempt at power walking back to her car.

“You were supposed to be done forty-five minutes ago!” Scarlet could feel her face starting to sweat with stress, worried about how awful her makeup would look by the time she met Yvie. If Yvie was still even there. “I told you to be on time, I have plans!”

“Sorry, rehearsal just ran over and I couldn’t leave. Can I have the AUX?”

Scarlet pressed her foot on the accelerator an ounce more than she normally would, looking frantically in her mirror. “No! And you can tell Dad that I’m never picking you up ever again.”

Before Lemon could start her usual monologue about the hardships of life as a talented dancer the pair were interrupted by the ringing of Scarlet’s phone.

Shit.

“Answer it and put it on speaker.” She snapped to her sister, taking a deep breath before she addressed Yvie. “Hey, I’m so sorry about being late, I’ll be there as quickly as I can, just give me five minutes.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’m just gonna head home.”

Scarlet almost slammed the breaks then and there. She knew Yvie so she knew that she wasn’t fine, she was the absolute antithesis of fine. What a way to fuel the hatred train back up again - did they give out trophies for these sorts of things? If they did she certainly deserved one, imagining her pathetic figure made of gold resin, holding a tiny clock and bottle of Coke Zero with the title “Best at Getting Your Crush To Despise You” engraved on a plaque underneath. They could plop it on top of her grave. Or maybe Lemon’s, depending of course on how much her sister would grovel after this.

“No, no, I’m coming.” Scarlet made the executive decision to take a left turn on the roundabout rather than right, heading straight for the centre of town and jabbing Lemon in the ribs with her elbow as she tried to pipe up.

“It’s fine, I’m just leaving the restaurant now. I really don’t feel up for this anymore, it was stupid anyway.”

“Yvie, I’m literally around the corner. Please can you wait?” Scarlet didn’t care how desperate she sounded because that’s exactly what she was, she’d write it on her forehead and scream it from the top of her lungs if she had to (she hoped she didn’t have to but would still take all means necessary if they were required).

“Are you literally around the corner? Is it written in a book word for word? That would be a terrible book, I don’t know who’s reading that.”

Scarlet didn’t know whether Yvie’s sarcasm was a good or bad sign but kept going anyway.

“Well I apologise for my use of the word to the English student in you but I am very close.” Scarlet scanned the street, spotting Yvie’s tall frame and dark hair storming down the road in front of her, pulling off double-denim in a cool and effortless way that no one else could even try to compete with. “In fact, I can literally see you.”

Scarlet pulled up to the curb and hung up, telling Lemon to keep her trap shut for a moment as she waited for Yvie to approach the car, a sense of deja vu filling her at the thought of chasing down a stomping Yvie in her car. God, she must look like a psychopath sometimes.

“Hello.” Yvie peered in the window, looking between the two sisters awkwardly, clearly too cautious to give Scarlet whatever rant she had been planning in her head for the past half an hour in front of her sister. Scarlet was almost grateful for her presence before remembering that she wouldn’t be in such a mess if it weren’t for Lemon in the first place.

“You look beautiful.” She simply stated, the thought coming out of her mouth just as fast as it had popped into her mind in the first place when she saw Yvie’s face; her cheeks glowing with blush and her eyes enhanced by the most meticulously placed false lashes. Scarlet wanted to ask Yvie how she managed to put them on without them popping off or looking stupid like whenever she tried but figured it was a conversation to be saved for when she wasn’t fighting for her right to date. “Get in the back?”

Half expecting Yvie to walk away, Scarlet felt a wave of relief wash over her windscreen when Yvie reached for the handle and plonked herself into Scarlet’s backseat. Explaining why she was late and why her sister was still in the car, Scarlet glanced at Yvie’s face in the rearview mirror as she spoke.

“I didn’t want you to leave so I just came as fast as I could. We can drop this little shit home then go back out?” Scarlet finished, overjoyed when Yvie finally nodded her head and mumbled in agreement.

“Now that that’s over, I have so many questions.” Yvie turned her head to Lemon, placing a hand on the back of her seat. “Has Scarlet always been like this?”

“Excuse me! Like what?” Scarlet squealed in response, pretending to be annoyed but unable to keep the smile off of her face at the return of the Yvie she knew so fondly.

“Yes.” Lemon turned her head to the back. “I have so many stories you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh my god, Scarlet. Can she stay?”

“She most certainly cannot.” Scarlet gave her sister a warning look that told her exactly how much of that grovelling would be necessary if she told even the prologue of an embarrassing childhood story. She would squeeze her sister to a pulp, no pun intended.

At least she wouldn’t have to do her half of the house jobs when she got home that night.

“I like her!” Lemon grinned before facing Yvie again.

“Fantastic.” Scarlet shook her head, listening as her sister and her date/enemy/crush/friend with benefits carried on bonding for the rest of the journey, Yvie nearly shattering the window with her cackle after Lemon told her about the Youtube channel Scarlet had tried to start in year nine. A part of Scarlet’s body warmed at their conversation, an image of Yvie sitting in the spare seat at the dining table for a family meal materialising in her head before she could try and shoo it away (she wasn’t even fully certain that Yvie even liked her as a person yet never mind wanted to become an honorary team member during their games night). However, that certainly didn’t mean she wasn’t happy to see the back of Lemon once they pulled up the house and Yvie made her way to the passenger seat instead.

“Hi.” Yvie turned to face her, the car still parked in front of Scarlet’s gates, not ready to pull away just yet.

“Hello.” Scarlet laughed, breathing every ounce of Yvie in that she hadn’t been able to reach earlier.

“Your sister’s nice. Like a younger version of you, except cool.”

Scarlet shot a pointed look Yvie’s way, something she had done many times in this position, Yvie firing shady comments from her passenger seat whilst she tried her best to keep living her fantasy. Only this time was different, gone was Yvie’s uniform and the guise of a lift home, she was categorically and undeniably there just to spend time with Yvie, to bask in her presence. And Yvie felt…the same? Scarlet didn’t know for sure, but the dark lips on Yvie’s lips told her at least one thing, she had made an effort. And it paid so much more than minimum wage.

“You don’t think I’m cool?” She grinned, ready for whatever read was coming her way.

“The opposite.” Yvie leaned across the centre console, her hand delicate in Scarlet’s freshly curled hair as she pulled her in for a kiss.

Getting herself carried away, it took Scarlet a few minutes to pull away, taking a breath she hadn’t realised she needed.

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I won’t be if you drive us somewhere with food,” Yvie replied, pouting her lips like a toddler - Scarlet saw how she’d already started to rub off on the other girl, subtle traits sticking to Yvie’s skin like perfume.

“I see how it is!” She turned the keys and set off to drive, pretending to be offended but secretly doing mental cartwheels (or whatever her attempt at a cartwheel would look like) at the thought that Yvie would rather spend time speaking to her than just hooking up in the car. Of course Scarlet really liked the sex, maybe going as far to say she adored it. But it didn’t make her giddy like sitting across Yvie in a secluded booth did, hiding her blush by taking deep dives into her fishbowl every time Yvie made her laugh or said something a tad too flirty than normal (which averaged to around once every two and a half minutes if Scarlet’s awful maths brain was of any use).

“Are you looking forward to moving away next year?” Scarlet had asked her, three drinks and a shared platter of nachos later.

“I told you, I haven’t gotten in yet. You need to stop speaking like it’s definite.” Yvie tapped a finger to Scarlet’s wrist before pointing it back in her face, the contact sending the fizzy bubbles from Scarlet’s drink right into her veins, flowing from her head to the tip of her toes.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna get in.” Scarlet looked into her eyes, grateful for her decision to wear contacts so she could see them, really see them - big brown pools of melted chocolate that glistened under the restaurant lighting.

“That’s easy for you to say, Miss I pay five grand a year for my education. I’m not building my hopes up, I don’t even know anyone black who’s applied nevermind gotten in before.”

Scarlet took the chance to hold her hand, her way of telling Yvie that she deserved it, that she was the hardest worker she knew. She deserved it all, everything and more.

“I don’t know about you,” Scarlet told herself to let go but couldn’t. “But that is not the determined Yvie I know, the one who would call out anyone for not giving one hundred to everything. You’re going, I know you are.”

“Thanks,” Yvie spoke quietly, her voice wavering a little before releasing a cough into her elbow and shaking herself off.

“Say it! You’re going.” Scarlet smiled. “If you don’t I’ll get another drink and get even more annoying. Four drink Scarlet likes to sing, you know?”

“I’m going,” Yvie repeated, giving Scarlet’s hand a tight squeeze. “And yeah, I am looking forward to it. It’s just a shame that I’ll be leaving some things behind.”

And when they had sex that night it was different. Not better. Not worse. Just different. Something extra in every touch, every movement, every look. The way they held each other when it was over, Scarlet curling up and nuzzling her head into Yvie’s chest before she fell asleep. The fact she was still like that once she woke, taking a risk by looking up and planting a quick peck on Yvie’s jawline, a term of endearment they hadn’t quite reached before. Scarlet danced clumsily on the line between friends with benefits and people who were actually dating, hoping that if she fell over to one side that Yvie would catch her. And she did, returning the kiss with another one planted on Scarlet’s forehead, strings tying them together that they didn’t know if they fully wanted yet but couldn’t untangle anymore.

Then other people started to see them too, the strings growing into a thicker rope, pulling them towards each other in one big tug of war.

“I hope you don’t mind but I told the girls from work about us,” Yvie announced from Scarlet’s desk one night, not turning around to look at Scarlet who was completing her own reading cross-legged on the bed.

Scarlet dropped her highlighter with surprise, leaving a pastel pink line on her duvet that she pretended not to notice till later.

“What did you say?”

Scarlet wasn’t a stranger to how Yvie had felt about her, remembering all the times she heard her making digs over the walkie talkies to the other girls when they thought she couldn’t hear. She tried to brush that off now, knowing that Yvie had transparent walls around herself, hidden to the naked eye - luckily Scarlet was confident in herself enough to trust her heart, to know that she wasn’t delusional and that the feelings she could see spilling from Yvie’s pores were real, even if she did tell her mother she was staying at Nina’s house every time she slept over.

“That we have sex?” She added quickly before Yvie could reply, a tiny part of her doubting her thoughts, resulting in one of Yvie’s mighty cartoon villain laughs.

“No, they knew that ages ago.” Yvie swivelled the chair around to give Scarlet a puzzling look. “I mean it doesn’t take a genius to work out that you don’t need two people to clean the disabled

toilet. And it doesn’t take that long.”

“Oh my god, you said we wouldn’t talk about that.” Scarlet felt her skin shiver at how nasty they had been that day, blaming Yvie for wearing new leggings when she had pulled her away near the start of her shift.

“Sorry.” Yvie held her hands up. “But yeah, I’m pretty sure they already knew we were fucking just not…” Yvie paused for a second, pursing her lips as she searched for the right words. “Hanging out, as well.”

“I see.” Scarlet shut her book, already way too distracted to regain focus. “So every time I told Priyanka we were going to Greggs and she asked me to bring her back a sausage roll she was just taking the piss? I’ve told her they’d ran out four times now!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yvie joined Scarlet in pushing the studying aside and slid onto the bed beside her.

“But you love it,” Scarlet replied, her mind too mushy at the news to consider her word choice, noticing how Yvie’s head jolted a touch once it had come out.

“Well, I just thought I’d tell them so it wasn’t awkward if you came to my birthday…Which you don’t have to attend if you don’t want to.” Yvie brought the conversation back on track, speaking matter of factly in a way that Scarlet had just grown to relish in. “But I kind of want you to.”

“Well, it’s a good job that I want to too then, isn’t it?” Scarlet grabbed her phone, trying her best to act coy as she composed a manic all caps message to her group chat, demanding assistance on an urgent, dress buying mission.

***

On Yvie’s tenth birthday she went to the cinema and discovered the magic of mixing sweets and chocolate in the box with the popcorn, something which she still did as a teenager every time she managed to convince Brooke to see the latest horror with her. On her sixteenth she drank cheap cider in the park and had her first real kiss, laughing all the way home while Nina asked one-hundred and one questions as if Yvie was some sort of make out messiah. Although she always brushed it off as something unimportant, Yvie adored the bubbles of excitement that fizzed inside of her every time her birthday rolled around. And her eighteenth was no exception.

“You didn’t have to.” She hugged the photo frame to her chest, smothering her friends’ faces into the dark fabric of her top, knowing fine well that they’d already put some money towards Yvie’s share of their girls trip payments. She had the best friends in the world.

“So you don’t miss us too much at Uni.” Brooke grinned at her.

There was another person she’d disappoint when she failed and didn’t move away, cleaning up ice cream for the rest of her life. Yvie had only been eighteen for nineteen hours and was already feeling the crippling reality of adulthood.

Scarlet must have noticed because she rested a hand on Yvie’s wrist, a simple gesture that wouldn’t have read much to anyone else but Yvie felt under her skin and tissue and down to her bones. With her hair let loose behind her back and a shimmer of gold on her eyes, Yvie couldn’t have hated her one bit.

“You look…nice.” She’d told Scarlet when she walked into her house, a bottle of what Yvie assumed to be champagne in her hand (she couldn’t read the label but figured Scarlet wasn’t one for prosecco).

“Get you! Learning how to compliment.” Scarlet had pulled her into a hug and Yvie saw a supercut of every contact they’d ever made. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Scarlet had probably been right (as much as Yvie hated admitting when she was right). Because every time she’d gone to tell Scarlet how she felt, an arrow of quick wit and insult humour had fired from her tongue, a barrier that forever stopped her from being the weak black girl some people expected her to be. Whatever it was they had it wasn’t perfect, but when Scarlet touched her wrist she was reminded for a second how grateful she was for it. How much she’d grown to need it.

Things only better as the night went on; the girls from work arrived and showered Yvie with love and homemade jager bombs. Priyanka even managed to say hello to Brooke without her eyes falling out of her head and her tongue dropping to the floor, earning herself a pat on the back from Heidi, who was celebrating Yvie’s birthday as if it was her own now that she’d never have to lend her ID out ever again (something that she reminded everyone of at least once every half an hour). Scarlet seemed to be having fun too, bonding with Nina over their shared love of visiting New York at Christmas and their bad dancing skills. It felt normal, almost too normal.

“She’s not as bad as you say she is.” Nina piped up once they were in their Uber, free from Scarlet and her burning ears for at least five minutes.

“She was pouring champagne into Vanjie’s mouth.” Yvie laughed. “Actual champagne!”

“Why did you invite her if you don’t like her so much then?”

Nina knew what she was asking. And Yvie knew the answer. Suddenly she was brought back to that day two years earlier, the kiss she’d shared with a girl from the year above, their legs dangling from the kid’s jungle gym with the whole town below them.

“Is she, like, the one?” Nina had asked, talking at a rate of knots as they walked home.

“I don’t know.” Yvie made an attempt to brush her off. It failed.

“Did you feel butterflies? Like your heart racing and all that stuff.”

“Nah, none of that,” Yvie replied. “It was nice but I didn’t feel any of that crazy stuff.”

She was pretty sure that stuff was made up to boost romance novel sales anyways, but didn’t really fancy tearing her best friend down for the cloud fantasy she was living in.

“Well, she mustn’t be the one for you then.” Nina had linked her arm by that point, using her other hand to shine her phone torch on the ground below. “God, I get butterflies when anyone even looks at me! You’ll find someone who gives them to you soon, don’t worry.”

Yvie didn’t think she would. And if she did she didn’t really think it would be her rich boss’s daughter who played lacrosse and wrote revision notes like she was being tested on her penmanship. Yet there they were, flying around her stomach like they were on acid. She didn’t know when the stupid things had hatched from their cocoons but they certainly had - there wasn’t any turning back.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Brooke snapped Yvie back to reality, apparently not too busy grilling the driver for his life story to join in with the ambush.

Yvie didn’t bother asking what. Or answering her for that matter, instead, shrugging her shoulders in a simple way that utterly contrasted the web of complicated thoughts and debates her brain was sifting through.

“Whatever.” Nina opened the door and released her back into the wild, where the others waited on the pavement and Scarlet gave her a kooky smile that Yvie really really really wished she hated. Only she didn’t, Nina’s words running through her head when she decided that maybe it’d be a good night to just say “fuck it” and let everything spill out.

“Can I talk to you?” Yvie placed a gentle hand on her wrist, her voice hushed under the racket of her drunken friends.

“Oh.” Scarlet raised a brow, Yvie’s sincerity being mistaken for something very different in her head. “Right now? We’re about to go inside!”

“No, I didn’t mean-” Yvie started but found herself interrupted by the great Silky holler that she was now fluent enough to understand meant “Hurry up I need a drink down my neck or I’m gonna start on someone pronto”. Silky didn’t get hangry, she got thangry. And no one liked it when Silky felt thangry.

“Saved by the yell.” Scarlet giggled as they followed in tow, letting her hand fall down and dance across Yvie’s skin ever so slightly. Normally she’d berate her for making such a terrible pun but Yvie was too busy thinking about that hand and that smile and the person behind it.

“Come on.” She felt a tug on her wrist as she entered, following the arm in question to see an eager Priyanka at the other end. “Time to get you absolutely smashed.”

And absolutely smashed Yvie got. If the five shots that Priyanka bought her didn’t do it, then the cocktail pitchers she wouldn’t even remember anyone buying her the next day certainly did (even if she did spill an entire half of one when Silky insisted she jump on her back and pretend to be a human wrecking ball - the bouncers loved that one). One hand in Jaida’s and the other pointed to the ceiling, Yvie could have sworn she touched the sky for a moment as she looked across at all the people who she cared about her having the night of their lives. Brooke playing fake stubborn as Vanessa pouted and begged for her to go up and request their song for the second time that night. Heidi and Priyanka waving to the crowds around them like the absolute idiots they were. Nina, clearly simping over a girl from across the room without any intention of going up to speak to her. But Yvie couldn’t judge - there she was feeling the blood rush through her body that little bit faster the moment Scarlet came back to their group after saying hello to her school friends. Yvie had fallen way too far for any of them to lend a hand. She’d dug the grave and maybe it was time to grab a pillow and a nice book so she could at least lie there in comfort.

Holding two fingers to her mouth and making eye contact, Yvie was on her way outside with Scarlet before she knew it, hand in hand as they pushed their way through the crowds. She wondered if that would ever feel normal, Scarlet’s fingers clasped around hers just like the first time.

“What’s up with you?” Scarlet asked once they found a seat, the air dark and breezy around them. If Yvie had had a jacket she’d have popped it around her back, noticing even in her drunken state that the hairs on Scarlet’s arm were standing up, a tiny chatter in her teeth with every word. “You’re being really nice tonight.”

“It is my birthday.” Yvie laughed, feeling the blush race to her cheeks. God, she was even worse than Nina.

“It’s still weird. It’s unnerving me.”

“Do you want me to be rude to you?” Yvie laughed, even more, opting to place her hands on either side of Scarlet’s arms, rubbing up and down to keep her warm after feeling her body shake.

“If you’re rude to me then you won’t get your present.”

Yvie didn’t know what to think. She’d stalked Scarlet and her friends enough on Instagram to know what birthday presents meant: Swarovski bracelets, Vivienne Westwood earrings and Tiffany necklaces. They did it all and the thought was terrifying.

“I told you not to spend any money on me.” Yvie flashed back to the day she invited Scarlet, highlighting the “no presents just presence” part of the offer.

“I didn’t.” Scarlet leaned in and kissed her cheek, not caring who was around and watching. Yvie would feel the sticky mark from her gloss all night and even the next morning, she wished later that she’d wiped it off then and there before everything came tumbling down and how she looked was the last thing on her mind.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Yvie rolled her eyes, thinking of how many times she’d watched Scarlet tap down her contactless debit at any opportunity. The smell of the new handbags was basically her opium. But Yvie didn’t care, Scarlet’s weekly shopping trips became a quirk of hers that Yvie found herself starting to love that touch more than she hated. If she didn’t get her place at Uni she could always just stay in that grave she’d dug, it was becoming more and more like home by the second.

“I was gonna tell you later when we’re sober and not in the middle of the smoking area but…” Scarlet grabbed her phone and started scrolling, a childlike grin on her face that was normally only reserved for her giddiest moments.

At first, Yvie didn’t take in what Scarlet was showing her, the writing a bit fuzzy beyond her beer goggles and Scarlet saying far too many words at once for her to process.

“Naomi’s cousin did it and I thought it would help you out but I know how stubborn and busy you are and didn’t want you to have anything more on your plate so I did all the application and stuff for you. There’s a reference from my Dad and one of your essays then you just had to answer some questions about where you live and stuff like that then you got the lower offer…”

She kept talking but Yvie zoned out, her eyes focusing on the words “supported progression” and “increasing diversity”. But then the words blurred even more and Yvie didn’t even realise it was because she was crying until it was too late to fight.

“Hey.” Scarlet wiped away at her cheeks, her hands even colder than before as Yvie felt her body starting to burn. “It’s alright, we’ll talk about it later.”

“You think I need handouts?” Yvie wanted so badly to look at her but couldn’t, screwing her eyes shut instead where nothing was spinning and she couldn’t see the way Scarlet’s face changed before her.

“No, no. You’ve got it wrong. I just saw how stressed you were and knew it would help you. Look Yvie, they lowered your grades. It’s a great opportunity. Let’s just carry on with our night, yeah? I shouldn’t have shown you now.”

And suddenly everything poured out of Yvie’s lips. The time a customer at work had made a complaint about her tone of voice and unnecessary anger. The time a boy in year eight had told her she was pretty for a black girl. Every single time an ignorant white girl thought they were single-handedly destroying racism by picking her for their team in rounders and using her as some sort of diversity token. She felt it all, her eyes still shut so she was speaking to all of them and not just Scarlet.

“You think this is a present? Helping the black girl from the council estate get a lower Uni offer cause she needs a step up to be like everyone else?”

“Yvie, no. That’s not why I did it. I was trying to help.” Yvie could hear her voice breaking but didn’t want to look, couldn’t let herself look.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” She tried to fight it but Yvie didn’t let her, the thought of Scarlet filling those forms in replaying in her mind. She wondered how many boxes she’d checked, how close she was to not being poor enough or not being black enough to get rejected from the scheme. She thought about the people like Scarlet who went to private school and never had to work a day in their lives with their shiny new offers, she wondered if they’d think that was the only reason she got there, she needed a hand up to get to their level.

“I opened so much to you.” Yvie clenched her fists and somehow managed to draw blood. “It might not seem like it but I fucking did Scarlet, I thought you understood.”

“I do, I promise. It’s like those female-only MP spots we talked about, remember? You said they were cool. I’m sorry, I should have spoken to you, come back inside.”

Yvie finally opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t; because Scarlet looked like someone had murdered a puppy right before her and she wanted nothing more to do than to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But it wasn’t. So she couldn’t. She’d known from the start that they were from different worlds and hated herself at that moment for believing any different. This wasn’t Scarlet’s fault, it was her own.

“I didn’t mean to, Yves. Please don’t hate me.” Scarlet could sense Yvie’s anger, shivering still in her spot as Yvie stood up to leave.

Yvie wanted to laugh. Two hours earlier she’d decided tonight was the night she’d tell Scarlet that she might have accidentally fallen in love with her. Yet there she was, Scarlet’s lip gloss sticky on her cheek with her shoes in her hand, ready to run as far away as she could till the world around her stopped spinning and she wasn’t hurting anymore.

“I really wished I did.”

She didn’t turn around to see Scarlet’s reaction, those five words ringing in her head all the way home and keeping her awake whilst the sky turned into pinks and reds and oranges. They stayed there for months, a thousand other things she could have said mounting in her brain over time all to be pushed aside by those words that followed her. She heard them behind the blaring music when she went to hand in her notice at work, hidden in the muffled cry that Heidi made as they hugged to the future. She saw them in the exam hall that June, written on the bricks in chalk all around before she had the chance to turn over her paper, reminding her of every single thing she’d sacrificed for that moment. They followed her into summer as the sun shone brighter and the nights got longer, there to tease her on the day her biggest dream came true when she opened her envelope and her first thought was that she wanted to tell Scarlet.

That feeling still lingered the week after results day, where most people were still celebrating, rolling into their houses at four in the morning with the childhood friends they’d soon have to take three trains to visit, savouring every last moment of those precious months where they would have absolutely zero responsibilities to their name.

Yvie wished she was one of those people, alternatively finding herself cramped on the bus in a slightly too tight white shirt, ready for her third job interview that month. She wished was chilling in Brooke’s room instead like the rest of her friends were, laughing at their Snapchat stories from the night before and deleting the ones where you could hear their singing a lot louder than they’d realised at the time (although she assumed they were still asleep and hadn’t gotten to that stage of the day yet, as evident in Vanessa’s beautiful rendition of Christina Aguilara that blasted through her headphones and just begged for Yvie to take a screen recording). She flicked through their stories a few more times before Heidi’s name had popped up, wishing her good luck on her interview in their group chat.

“Hope you don’t get it and have to come back here until you go to Uni xxx” Priyanka added, always the loving and supportive friend of the group.

She really missed them. Almost as much as she missed someone else.

“You underestimate my persuasion skills.” Yvie sent back, knowing fine well that she was missing a very important trait that interviewers looked for - actually turning up.

She’d made it to the first one, pacing around the store with her CV in hand, raring to go. Things changed of course when a gaggle of girls with tartan skirts entered to rake through the shelves, the familiar blue of their uniform reminding them of why she was even there in the first place and sending her flying out the door before her name was even called. The second was an even shorter experience, having simply let the bus go past the stop without ringing the bell, an accident on purpose that took her all the way to the other side of town. Yvie had always thought she knew which side of the fight or flight analysis she stood proudly and grounded on, but if the urge to yeet herself off the bus and run home the second the restaurant came into sight wasn’t enough to prove how wrong she’d been then nothing else would.

Third time a charm?

She took one more peek at her phone before making her way through the door, quickly scanning her messages one more time and avoiding the small number one that burst out the corner of the text app. She’d open it when she was ready.

“Yvonne?” A familiar girl asked, raising a thick eyebrow her way.

“Yvie.” She pulled the best fake smile that three years of drama lessons in school had provided her with, praying it was enough to cover the utter disdain that came with hearing her full name, something usually reserved for family members and the front of exam papers. She knew people had worse, she could shorten Yvonne. It wasn’t awful, just not Yvie. And at least her mother never decided to name her after a piece of fruit.

If she didn’t have company she’d have slapped herself against the face for even letting her thoughts slip close to Scarlet again, opting instead to pinch the skin on her hand (there was still a mark from when she’d done the same thing a few days prior, having let even the cereals at the supermarket bring back soft memories of the girl that she fought so hard to keep away from).

“My Dad’ll be out in a minute.” The girl turned on her heel to walk away and Yvie realised why she recognised her, laughing to herself at the thought of working with Nina’s utterly obvious crush from sixth form who didn’t even know she existed. She thought about Brooke and Priyanka and what a funny reverse it would be to have her school friend gushing over her work friend instead of the other way around.

Not that this girl was Priyanka, or this place was the centre. It just wasn’t and Yvie knew already. Maybe she wouldn’t tell Nina about Bob’s sister, after all doing that would only catch her in a lie when she inevitably fucked the whole thing up and didn’t dare admit it. Because admitting that she messed up the interview would only lead to admitting a bigger and scarier thought in Yvie’s head.

She really, really wanted to go back in time. If not then a little bit forward, just so the interview was over and she could return back to the comfort of her bed with the new sheets that she’d bought so she could take her old ones to Uni and not because they reminded her of ginger hair tossed out on her pillow and the infuriating yet adorable noise of Scarlet grinding her teeth in her sleep. Definitely the former.

Only she wasn’t a wizard, not even a bit close like all those kids at Scarlet’s school with their house teams and fancy lessons. So the interview started like normal, Yvie jumping over each hurdle the best she could, stumbling a tad when he asked her about why she wanted to work there and she knew “I broke the heart of my ex-bosses daughter and can no longer show my face there but need money” would not have been a sufficient answer. The next few were okay, her feet gliding over nicely as she rattled off one thing or another about her time management skills and ability to work well under pressure. However, she let her face smack the ground on the final hurdle, the finish line almost in sight.

The dreaded character reference.

Yvie watched as he dropped it from his hands and onto the desk - the first time she’d properly looked at it after asking Brooke to print it and shoving it in her file without so much as a once-over. She tried her best to look back up, to engage and catch the interviewer’s eye like she knew she was supposed to, except her own eyes were glued to a familiar font she’d seen many times before. Her mind flashed to all the time spent reading detailed flashcards on the War of the Roses with Scarlet, shooting questions across the room aggressively like they were in the battle themselves (she was the House of Lancaster, red with danger and passion and Scarlet was York, pure and white as she pulled a face of utter distress at every date she couldn’t remember). She knew that font.

“Your reference is pretty impressive.” He looked back up but Yvie was still staring anyway. “This is from your previous employer?”

“Y-yes.” Yvie spat her words, realising at that moment that the character reference that persuaded her University to give her a lower offer, the reference that was two pages long and signed sincerely from her Scarlet’s dad, was in fact written by a passionate eighteen-year-old with a heart of gold and a strange affinity for using the word “conversely”. A realisation that was only a few months too late. If she’d wanted to go back in time earlier…

“Well, I’m surprised he let you go reading this.” He pointed a finger to a specific paragraph and Yvie let her eyes move along the page, his words background noise to Scarlet’s voice speaking clearly in her head.

“In the time that I have employed Yvie, I have been able to see not only her incredibly high standards concerning every aspect of her life but also the passion, vulnerability and humility behind every decision she makes. Watching Yvie blossom into the resilient and determined woman she is today has brought great pleasure to my eyes, however, even more pleasure has been found in seeing the growth she has encouraged in those around her, constantly bringing a sense of warmth and comfort to her coworkers in the most subtle of ways when she isn’t even trying to.”

In the past few months, Yvie had cried a total of three times. The first being her birthday, the night she lost the best part of her entire year in one quick visit to the smoking area. The second was results night - happy tears that had absolutely nothing to do with the text she’d pushed away to the top of her screen after reading the first few words. At least that’s what she’d told Brooke and Nina. Nothing to do with the text or the urge she had to run across to Slug and Lettuce as fast as she could and drag Scarlet away from her half-price cocktails just so they could pretend things were how they used to be for one night. She’d also have told her that she was proud of her, whispered it in her ear as they lay intertwined and said it over and over again so Scarlet knew she meant it. Only she didn’t, the words falling off her cheeks and onto the toilet floor instead, where Scarlet wouldn’t have been able to see them even with her glasses on. So it came as no surprise that the third time was Scarlet-related too, the reference turning more and more blurry as she tried to read on, eventually slipping through her fingers and turning into a jumble of black and white she didn’t have the strength to unscramble.

In the most simple of terms, she’d fucked it. Well and truly fucked it. At least she was one hundred per cent sure of that.

“Sorry, I-” Yvie started but couldn’t find the words to finish, pushing her chair back with such force that it dropped to the floor with a painful clang.

Yeah, maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t turned up after all.

“Thanks for your time.” She mumbled, scooping the chair from the ground and swiping the reference from the table in an awkward and clunky motion.

It would have been so easy to blame Scarlet, to be angry about how many years she’d spent being strong and resilient, immune to vulnerability. To be annoyed at how suddenly she’d waltzed in and smashed all that to pieces with a kick of her designer flats. But if there was one thing Yvie had come to realise that year it was that she only ever made things harder for herself. And despite always saying she loved her life how it was, that was something she had to change. Pronto.

***

“I got you a double vodka.” The girl, Gigi, motioned as Scarlet took her seat, not even bothering to apologise for being late. Not that she’d have had an excuse anyway, having spent all morning laying like a dog on her bed and scrolling aimlessly down her phone until she had twenty minutes to go and figured she might as well start getting ready. Oh, how things had changed.

“Thanks.” Scarlet tried her best to conjure up a smile, her throat wavering as she took a sip and imagined it was a nice fruity cocktail instead. Before she probably would have gagged a little at the taste but she was trying to be less dramatic about things. Of course, a ridiculous idea about ‘accidentally’ spilling it then going to order a fishbowl instead crossed her mind but she managed to shoo it away. Gigi had spent good money on that drink and if Scarlet had learnt any lesson that year it was that you should never take a gift for granted.

“Were you at work today?” She asked, placing her hand on the table just close enough that Scarlet’s hand would brush it if she went for another sip.

Scarlet couldn’t deny that she was ravishing, her eyes screamed sex and she had a beauty mark on her right cheek that just proved she was the modern-day incarnation of Marilyn Monroe. Objectively, she was very pretty and Scarlet should have been proud.

Yet she did not move her hand.

“Nah. My sister has a dance recital this evening, had to make sure my day was all clear.”

It was stupid really, organising a date when she knew she had plans later, essentially shutting down any possibility of taking things further. Only Scarlet wasn’t stupid at all, not in the slightest.

She let the small talk go on further, from travels to Uni to work to friends to food then back to Uni again. Scarlet could see the similarities, the expensive taste they both shared and the fact that Gigi too seemed to live life with the neatness and perfection that Scarlet thrived on. If she were to colour in she’d do it perfectly within the edges, even going as far as ripping the page out if she went over the lines. They should have slotted together perfectly. Should have.

“Did I tell you that you’re gorgeous yet?” The comment took Scarlet off guard, slipped casually into the conversation in that clever witty way she’d always wished she could emulate herself. The way the male lead did in movies and the girl would always swoon and decide that was the moment she was in love with him. In the past she would have loved it, her ever-so-slightly inflated ego taking in any compliment she could get and running with it until the cows returned for their pasture.

“Nope.” She took another sip of the drink, surprised at how little was actually gone. “But you don’t need to, I already know.”

“Sorry.” Her date held two hands in the air and stifled and awkward laugh. Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t fight back. Tell her to get her head out of her arse or else she’d get even more lost than the time she went to London with Plastique and caught the wrong tube twice in succession. Scarlet really, really wanted her to fight back.

“I guess you must think I am too.” She raised a thick brow in Scarlet’s direction. “Or else you wouldn’t have gotten with me on results day.”

Around sixth form, Scarlet was known for having high standards: rolling her eyes in the common room if there was no peppermint tea left because she simply couldn’t have any of the other flavours, never leaving the house without at least two accessories on and always doing the extra reading on her homework even if she was having the busiest of weeks. Her standards were well past the stratosphere and she was never afraid of being a diva about them.

That being said, results day Scarlet would have gotten with absolutely anyone on that night be they male, female, gorgeous or not. Results day Scarlet’s standards were set somewhere in the Earth’s core, about two-thousand and nine hundred kilometres below the sticky floor of the club she was in. She was desperate to feel something or someone. And Gigi was there at her service.

“I guess.” Scarlet tried her best to be polite, her mind flashing back to that night when she felt Gigi’s red lips on her neck as she tried so hard to feel something. To feel someone. To fuck someone. To fuck Yvie and the “Delivered” that sat below the congratulations message Scarlet had sent her that day. A giant fuck you to the girl who’d she’d grown and blossomed with, who’d left her to wilt in the sun without any water after such a stupid mistake. A stupid mistake that she now understood the weight of in pounds and ounces and any other unit of measurement you could think of.

“You guess, damn.” Gigi took her time coming back, looking at her thighs as if there were secret cue cards hidden under the table that told her how to respond to all of Scarlet’s remarks.

Maybe Scarlet needed someone a little more rough around the edges. Someone who let the pens teeter over the lines and used whatever colours they liked despite logic saying there are no such things as bright purple palm trees.

It would have been so easy to be with someone like Gigi, someone who shared her lifestyle, complimented her and tried her hardest to keep the conversation flowing even when awkwardness took over. But that year Scarlet had tasted difficult, complicated and down-right mind-boggling all wrapped in one dish and it was so much nicer than easy.

Easy was boring.

So she did what any other kinda-shitty human would have done on a first date they weren’t enjoying and texted her best friend under the table to call and collect her as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Naomi had never fully understood the “soon” part and left Scarlet to make painful small talk for a whole thirty minutes before pulling up outside and ringing Scarlet with the most ridiculous of emergencies.

“Seriously? That’s the best you could do?” Scarlet pulled a look of utter disbelief the second the car door was shut.

“Bitch, be grateful. I didn’t have to come rescue you.”

“I am grateful.” Scarlet grabbed her friend’s phone and began to queue songs without thought. “I just thought you’d come up with something better than ‘my dog has diarrhoea’, that’s all.”

“You still left!” Naomi laughed as she revved up the engine. “What was it then? Did she have no good chat? Uglier than you remember?”

“Nah, she was prettier actually.” Scarlet played with the ring on her finger, sliding it up and down so much that her skin turned red.

“Serial killer then?” Naomi paused at some traffic lights and took the opportunity to skip the next selection in Scarlet’s line up. “Sorry, that song is way too depressing.”

“She was nice! Just not for me.” She took the ring off completely, rolling it between her thumb and finger as if the small action would detract from every single thing going on in her brain.

“Oh no.” Naomi pulled a look of horror. “I get it.”

“Get what?” Scarlet squealed as her friend took a sharp left, the opposite direction to her house. “Where are you taking me, an early grave?”

“The abandoning a date with the prettiest girl in town, the sad songs. You’re still hung up on Yvie.”

“I’m not!” Scarlet protested, trying her hardest to be nonchalant but instead sounding like a toddler who’d been accused of stealing extra biscuits at break time. Ever so subtle. “Where are we even going?”

“McDonald’s car park. So you can tell me yet again about how guilty you feel and what an awful mistake you made and how you just want everything to be how it was before because it’s just not fair!” Naomi mimicked Scarlet’s dramatic whine and she couldn’t help but give her credit for how spot-on she was, even if she had had a solid seven years of science lessons and after school shopping trips to practice.

“And then you can tell me that life’s not fair and I just have to accept that Yvie hates me again even though I understand everything now?”

“Exactly!” Naomi made her way into the drive-through, stalling at the first pause and making Scarlet laugh for what felt like the first time in months. “You’d think I’d be an expert at this by now, the number of times I’ve had to drag you here.”

“You would be if life was fair.” Scarlet poked her in the rib, happy to have a friend who knew that she needed cheering up before she even knew herself.

And that’s just what she did, reminding Scarlet about Uni and all the girls who would happily bully her there so she didn’t have to pine for the one who had left her, sliding between deep and lighthearted as they ate their meals so slowly they turned cold.

“I just miss her, Naomi.” Scarlet took the last spoonful of her McFlurry, wishing she didn’t have Lemon’s stupid recital and could have gone round again for a second one. Maybe even a third. “I know she’s a dickhead and you think she doesn’t deserve me. But we were good. Really good.”

“I know.” Naomi planted a kiss on her friend’s forehead, pulling her into the biggest of cuddles before starting the car up again and changing the subject. “So, how many shit dances are you gonna have to sit through tonight before your sister comes on for five minutes?”

“Hmmm. Maybe thirty? I’ll make sure to let you know.”

She was close, opening the program as soon as she sat down that evening to count a whole twenty-seven names before Lemon’s, sending Naomi a quick text with the rolling eyes emoji that had suddenly become her most frequently used (replacing the eyes pouring with tears one of course).

She stopped watching altogether ten dances in, letting her eyes travel around the theatre and play out little scenarios in each balcony or scenario, something about the place just screaming romance when you blocked out the fifteen-year-olds forgetting the moves to the Greatest Showman soundtrack on stage (one performance to Rewrite the Stars stood out in particular, reminding her of the time it played in work and Yvie made a joke about how it could have been them but Scarlet wasn’t suave enough to be the Zac Efron character). After twenty she took a trip to the toilet, topping up her gloss and mascara for absolutely no one to see in the dim lighting.

It was a long night, to say the least, Scarlet eager at the edge of the seat by the time dancer number twenty-seven had taken their ridiculously extra walk off the stage and she heard her bratty baby’s name announced on the speaker. Just because she had no desire to clap for other people’s family didn’t mean she wasn’t a secret stage-sister when it came to watching Lemon, wishing she could pull out her phone and record like the cool mom from Mean Girls.

Only it’s a good job she didn’t because, after not one but two calls of her name, there was no sight of Lemon and her big yellow feather boa that Scarlet had bought specifically for that night.

Tripping over at least four sets of feet on her way, Scarlet clambered over the stalls the best she could, dashing to the backstage area as fast as she could once the next girl’s name was called and her routine started. Crazy thoughts ran through her head, images of Lemon locked in storage closets or being carted off into an ambulance with a cast on her leg flashing up as she ran up to an assistant and asked perhaps too forcefully why her sister was not tapping away on that stage like she should have been.

“There was someone without a ticket asking after her at the front desk, I thought she had come back!”

Scarlet didn’t know if he was speaking to her or his headpiece but she was gone again, her size fives working double-time to go and figure out whether it was her absent parents or Lemon’s stupid airhead friends that have caused her to miss her dance and send the gay intern into a state of existential panic.

Glasses at aid, it didn’t take long to find her, feathers falling from the boa as Lemon shook it in her hands with her words. Maybe Scarlet should have spent a little more money on it after all…

Scarlet shouted for her down the hall, the stage-sister persona now fully developed and realised.

But her sister ignored her, continuing to point her finger in the sassiest of manners that would probably have left her cleaning the pantry for two weeks at home - that ruled out her parents, for sure.

“What are you…” Scarlet started but lost the words once she turned the corner and finally got a sight of who her sister was berating. “Oh.”

“I went to the centre but Jaida said you had the day off to watch Lemon dance,” Yvie spoke simply and clearly.

It seemed crazy seeing her in person after spending so long trying to push her portrait out of her head and convince herself that she didn’t exist. But there she was, real as day, her eyes slightly red and her shirt haphazardly tucked into her trousers. “This is the third place I’ve tried but they wouldn’t let me in.”

For perhaps one of the first times ever in her life, Scarlet couldn’t think of anything to say.

“She had a date today too,” Lemon smirked in Yvie’s direction and Scarlet watched her face drop more than it had the day that she’d planned a walk for the two of them around the botanic gardens only for it to be closed (Scarlet went alone once just before her exams and almost let herself cry thinking about how much Yvie really knew her).

“Lemon!” Scarlet’s mind caught up as she turned to her sister and gave her the black look of death that they had devised as kids to show when they were not playing games.

“What? She can’t just break your heart and then waltz into my dance show with some flowers and it’s alright.”

Scarlet hadn’t even noticed the flowers until then - big, red daisies that Yvie was gripping onto far too tight, her nails thorns pressed into her palm. She wanted to take them just so Yvie would stop, to slip her own hand there instead like they had done so many times.

“She didn’t break my heart Lemon, oh my god.” Scarlet’s face spoke a thousand words she wasn’t saying out loud and they were all synonyms for something starting with fuck and ending with off.

“So you just listened to Lana Del Rey on repeat for weeks with the door shut for fun?”

“Excuse me.” A scary-looking woman with a security badge pinned to her lapel rose her voice over her sister’s. She was now officially Scarlet’s number one hero, Audrey Hepburn being shot down in favour of the godsend who parted the red sea to put an end to the ex-flame vs. sister crisis that Scarlet was trapped in. “This is not the place for arguments, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“She’s meant to be dancing, can she go back in?” Scarlet pulled her best puppy dog eyes and batted her eyelashes praying that the woman would let her. It was, after all, the least she could do given that she was now also ranked above Grace Kelly and Arianna Huffington in the mental list of important women who impacted her life. Quite an honour, if she thought so herself.

“If you leave.” The woman pointed to the door before escorting Scarlet and Yvie outside like two school kids who had to spend their lunchtime standing on the wall for being naughty (not that that had ever actually happened to Scarlet herself as a kid. She imagined it would have happened to Yvie and her blunt tongue though, letting a laugh out at the mental image of the girl aged ten having a huff for missing golden time).

“Ring me when you’re done!” Scarlet shouted to her sister before the doors closed on them and they were released to the night sky that had been a cloudy blue when Scarlet first arrived.

And suddenly she was left alone with Yvie. With the girl who had ignored her texts. Who she’d cried over in McDonald’s car park at least seven times by then. Who she longed for every time she even made eye contact with another girl. Who had left her alone in the smoking area with nothing but the taste of corked champagne in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Yvie spoke for the first time since she’d first seen her, bending down to sit on the curb. Scarlet didn’t have to think twice about joining her.

“It’s fine, I can’t say that was the most exciting thing to watch, anyway.” She motioned to the theatre behind them, the street lamp lighting up Yvie’s face just enough to see her crack a smile. Scarlet pushed the confusion and the past aside for a moment just to take in that smile.

“Not for that.” She gripped her palm again and this time Scarlet couldn’t stop herself from grabbing her hand to stop her. “For before, for everything. I don’t know who you’re seeing or anything but I just couldn’t go away at the end of this summer without telling you that I’m sorry.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” Scarlet’s heart was beating fast and all of a sudden she was at the back of the cafe with Yvie again, the rest of the world in 2D as they spun in their own little bubble.

“I’m sorry for abandoning you, for making things harder for myself because I got scared. Scared of stupid things that I knew you never even meant. I just never even knew what I felt myself and once I did then I tried to deny it.”

“I’m sorry too.” For once Scarlet was glad she was wearing her glasses in front of Yvie or else she’d be able to see the tears welling in her eyes that very moment. “For being naive and thinking I knew what was best for you.”

And things carried on that way, Scarlet unable to hide the tears for much longer when Yvie told her that she didn’t have to say sorry, that she didn’t even have to forgive her. She just had to listen and try her best to understand. Yvie spoke about when she was a kid, about the day she realised she was different to all the other girls in her class and the day she lost the ability to tell if she hated something or loved it. She talked about the first time they met, the first time they had sex and the first time she thought fuck I’m in far too deep. About the past few months and how they had been, her words not Scarlet’s, like the “nine circles of hell on steroids’’. About how she read the reference and realised those were probably the nicest things a person had ever said about her, and how awful it felt to realise she’d pushed that person away.

“It was all true, the reference.” Scarlet squeezed her hand when she finished, proud of Yvie for managing to speak so many of her thoughts and feelings into the universe and even prouder of herself for not interrupting even once.

“I really brought a sense of warmth to you?” Yvie chuckled as she regained her composure, raising a brow at Scarlet like she had so many times before. “I think I’m the coldest person I know.”

“God knows how but yes, you did.” Scarlet leant in close. “You do.”

The kiss felt like home and Scarlet tried to thank every single star in the sky she could see for it but was swiftly interrupted by the second kiss. She’d have to get up a diagram of the entire solar system to pay her gratitude for the second kiss.

“See? Warmth.” She whispered into Yvie’s ear.

“You don’t have to forgive me that fast, Scarlet. This isn’t a story, things take time.”

“Well, it’s a good job we have some left to work on that before you go to Uni then isn’t it? Now, do you wanna kiss again or carry on telling me about how painstakingly awful it was getting over me? Either is fine by me.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Yvie teased her. “I could probably do it all over again if I had to.”

“You’d be willing to risk that?”

“For this?” Yvie pulled her into another kiss, this one stronger, making up for the months they’d missed and setting precedent for the few weeks they had left. If there was still an inkling inside of Scarlet that Yvie hated her then that kiss washed it right away with the rain that fell, all the way down the banks and into the river that night. “One hundred per cent.”

Tags -

Throughout her eight years of education, Scarlet had only ever been late twice: once in year five when her Dad’s car had gotten stuck in the snow and they had to push it out of the drive, then again in year twelve when Pearl left her phone in the Urban Outfitters changing rooms on their free and made Scarlet drive her back to get it. It was her ultimate pet hate. Which was why she felt like the biggest dick on the planet standing in the hallway of her sister’s dance school furiously peeking her head through windows at the grand time of seven fifty-two, almost twenty-five minutes after she was due to meet Yvie.

“I’m so so so so sorry, I’ll be there soon xx”

She typed quickly as she paced the halls, no time to think and stress over how many kisses to send or whether she should have added emojis like she normally would have. If Yvie was difficult to read in person, Scarlet had discovered over the past week that she was even harder to understand over text as they’d gone over the plan for their date. A plan that was currently unravelling like a broken cassette tape before her eyes, too far gone to wind back up by the time she found her sister.

“Oooh, you look nice!” Lemon exclaimed as she left the studio, already trailing behind as Scarlet did her best attempt at power walking back to her car.

“You were supposed to be done forty-five minutes ago!” Scarlet could feel her face starting to sweat with stress, worried about how awful her makeup would look by the time she met Yvie. If Yvie was still even there. “I told you to be on time, I have plans!”

“Sorry, rehearsal just ran over and I couldn’t leave. Can I have the AUX?”

Scarlet pressed her foot on the accelerator an ounce more than she normally would, looking frantically in her mirror. “No! And you can tell Dad that I’m never picking you up ever again.”

Before Lemon could start her usual monologue about the hardships of life as a talented dancer the pair were interrupted by the ringing of Scarlet’s phone.

Shit.

“Answer it and put it on speaker.” She snapped to her sister, taking a deep breath before she addressed Yvie. “Hey, I’m so sorry about being late, I’ll be there as quickly as I can, just give me five minutes.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’m just gonna head home.”

Scarlet almost slammed the breaks then and there. She knew Yvie so she knew that she wasn’t fine, she was the absolute antithesis of fine. What a way to fuel the hatred train back up again - did they give out trophies for these sorts of things? If they did she certainly deserved one, imagining her pathetic figure made of gold resin, holding a tiny clock and bottle of Coke Zero with the title “Best at Getting Your Crush To Despise You” engraved on a plaque underneath. They could plop it on top of her grave. Or maybe Lemon’s, depending of course on how much her sister would grovel after this.

“No, no, I’m coming.” Scarlet made the executive decision to take a left turn on the roundabout rather than right, heading straight for the centre of town and jabbing Lemon in the ribs with her elbow as she tried to pipe up.

“It’s fine, I’m just leaving the restaurant now. I really don’t feel up for this anymore, it was stupid anyway.”

“Yvie, I’m literally around the corner. Please can you wait?” Scarlet didn’t care how desperate she sounded because that’s exactly what she was, she’d write it on her forehead and scream it from the top of her lungs if she had to (she hoped she didn’t have to but would still take all means necessary if they were required).

“Are you literally around the corner? Is it written in a book word for word? That would be a terrible book, I don’t know who’s reading that.”

Scarlet didn’t know whether Yvie’s sarcasm was a good or bad sign but kept going anyway.

“Well I apologise for my use of the word to the English student in you but I am very close.” Scarlet scanned the street, spotting Yvie’s tall frame and dark hair storming down the road in front of her, pulling off double-denim in a cool and effortless way that no one else could even try to compete with. “In fact, I can literally see you.”

Scarlet pulled up to the curb and hung up, telling Lemon to keep her trap shut for a moment as she waited for Yvie to approach the car, a sense of deja vu filling her at the thought of chasing down a stomping Yvie in her car. God, she must look like a psychopath sometimes.

“Hello.” Yvie peered in the window, looking between the two sisters awkwardly, clearly too cautious to give Scarlet whatever rant she had been planning in her head for the past half an hour in front of her sister. Scarlet was almost grateful for her presence before remembering that she wouldn’t be in such a mess if it weren’t for Lemon in the first place.

“You look beautiful.” She simply stated, the thought coming out of her mouth just as fast as it had popped into her mind in the first place when she saw Yvie’s face; her cheeks glowing with blush and her eyes enhanced by the most meticulously placed false lashes. Scarlet wanted to ask Yvie how she managed to put them on without them popping off or looking stupid like whenever she tried but figured it was a conversation to be saved for when she wasn’t fighting for her right to date. “Get in the back?”

Half expecting Yvie to walk away, Scarlet felt a wave of relief wash over her windscreen when Yvie reached for the handle and plonked herself into Scarlet’s backseat. Explaining why she was late and why her sister was still in the car, Scarlet glanced at Yvie’s face in the rearview mirror as she spoke.

“I didn’t want you to leave so I just came as fast as I could. We can drop this little shit home then go back out?” Scarlet finished, overjoyed when Yvie finally nodded her head and mumbled in agreement.

“Now that that’s over, I have so many questions.” Yvie turned her head to Lemon, placing a hand on the back of her seat. “Has Scarlet always been like this?”

“Excuse me! Like what?” Scarlet squealed in response, pretending to be annoyed but unable to keep the smile off of her face at the return of the Yvie she knew so fondly.

“Yes.” Lemon turned her head to the back. “I have so many stories you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh my god, Scarlet. Can she stay?”

“She most certainly cannot.” Scarlet gave her sister a warning look that told her exactly how much of that grovelling would be necessary if she told even the prologue of an embarrassing childhood story. She would squeeze her sister to a pulp, no pun intended.

At least she wouldn’t have to do her half of the house jobs when she got home that night.

“I like her!” Lemon grinned before facing Yvie again.

“Fantastic.” Scarlet shook her head, listening as her sister and her date/enemy/crush/friend with benefits carried on bonding for the rest of the journey, Yvie nearly shattering the window with her cackle after Lemon told her about the Youtube channel Scarlet had tried to start in year nine. A part of Scarlet’s body warmed at their conversation, an image of Yvie sitting in the spare seat at the dining table for a family meal materialising in her head before she could try and shoo it away (she wasn’t even fully certain that Yvie even liked her as a person yet never mind wanted to become an honorary team member during their games night). However, that certainly didn’t mean she wasn’t happy to see the back of Lemon once they pulled up the house and Yvie made her way to the passenger seat instead.

“Hi.” Yvie turned to face her, the car still parked in front of Scarlet’s gates, not ready to pull away just yet.

“Hello.” Scarlet laughed, breathing every ounce of Yvie in that she hadn’t been able to reach earlier.

“Your sister’s nice. Like a younger version of you, except cool.”

Scarlet shot a pointed look Yvie’s way, something she had done many times in this position, Yvie firing shady comments from her passenger seat whilst she tried her best to keep living her fantasy. Only this time was different, gone was Yvie’s uniform and the guise of a lift home, she was categorically and undeniably there just to spend time with Yvie, to bask in her presence. And Yvie felt…the same? Scarlet didn’t know for sure, but the dark lips on Yvie’s lips told her at least one thing, she had made an effort. And it paid so much more than minimum wage.

“You don’t think I’m cool?” She grinned, ready for whatever read was coming her way.

“The opposite.” Yvie leaned across the centre console, her hand delicate in Scarlet’s freshly curled hair as she pulled her in for a kiss.

Getting herself carried away, it took Scarlet a few minutes to pull away, taking a breath she hadn’t realised she needed.

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I won’t be if you drive us somewhere with food,” Yvie replied, pouting her lips like a toddler - Scarlet saw how she’d already started to rub off on the other girl, subtle traits sticking to Yvie’s skin like perfume.

“I see how it is!” She turned the keys and set off to drive, pretending to be offended but secretly doing mental cartwheels (or whatever her attempt at a cartwheel would look like) at the thought that Yvie would rather spend time speaking to her than just hooking up in the car. Of course Scarlet really liked the sex, maybe going as far to say she adored it. But it didn’t make her giddy like sitting across Yvie in a secluded booth did, hiding her blush by taking deep dives into her fishbowl every time Yvie made her laugh or said something a tad too flirty than normal (which averaged to around once every two and a half minutes if Scarlet’s awful maths brain was of any use).

“Are you looking forward to moving away next year?” Scarlet had asked her, three drinks and a shared platter of nachos later.

“I told you, I haven’t gotten in yet. You need to stop speaking like it’s definite.” Yvie tapped a finger to Scarlet’s wrist before pointing it back in her face, the contact sending the fizzy bubbles from Scarlet’s drink right into her veins, flowing from her head to the tip of her toes.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna get in.” Scarlet looked into her eyes, grateful for her decision to wear contacts so she could see them, really see them - big brown pools of melted chocolate that glistened under the restaurant lighting.

“That’s easy for you to say, Miss I pay five grand a year for my education. I’m not building my hopes up, I don’t even know anyone black who’s applied nevermind gotten in before.”

Scarlet took the chance to hold her hand, her way of telling Yvie that she deserved it, that she was the hardest worker she knew. She deserved it all, everything and more.

“I don’t know about you,” Scarlet told herself to let go but couldn’t. “But that is not the determined Yvie I know, the one who would call out anyone for not giving one hundred to everything. You’re going, I know you are.”

“Thanks,” Yvie spoke quietly, her voice wavering a little before releasing a cough into her elbow and shaking herself off.

“Say it! You’re going.” Scarlet smiled. “If you don’t I’ll get another drink and get even more annoying. Four drink Scarlet likes to sing, you know?”

“I’m going,” Yvie repeated, giving Scarlet’s hand a tight squeeze. “And yeah, I am looking forward to it. It’s just a shame that I’ll be leaving some things behind.”

And when they had sex that night it was different. Not better. Not worse. Just different. Something extra in every touch, every movement, every look. The way they held each other when it was over, Scarlet curling up and nuzzling her head into Yvie’s chest before she fell asleep. The fact she was still like that once she woke, taking a risk by looking up and planting a quick peck on Yvie’s jawline, a term of endearment they hadn’t quite reached before. Scarlet danced clumsily on the line between friends with benefits and people who were actually dating, hoping that if she fell over to one side that Yvie would catch her. And she did, returning the kiss with another one planted on Scarlet’s forehead, strings tying them together that they didn’t know if they fully wanted yet but couldn’t untangle anymore.

Then other people started to see them too, the strings growing into a thicker rope, pulling them towards each other in one big tug of war.

“I hope you don’t mind but I told the girls from work about us,” Yvie announced from Scarlet’s desk one night, not turning around to look at Scarlet who was completing her own reading cross-legged on the bed.

Scarlet dropped her highlighter with surprise, leaving a pastel pink line on her duvet that she pretended not to notice till later.

“What did you say?”

Scarlet wasn’t a stranger to how Yvie had felt about her, remembering all the times she heard her making digs over the walkie talkies to the other girls when they thought she couldn’t hear. She tried to brush that off now, knowing that Yvie had transparent walls around herself, hidden to the naked eye - luckily Scarlet was confident in herself enough to trust her heart, to know that she wasn’t delusional and that the feelings she could see spilling from Yvie’s pores were real, even if she did tell her mother she was staying at Nina’s house every time she slept over.

“That we have sex?” She added quickly before Yvie could reply, a tiny part of her doubting her thoughts, resulting in one of Yvie’s mighty cartoon villain laughs.

“No, they knew that ages ago.” Yvie swivelled the chair around to give Scarlet a puzzling look. “I mean it doesn’t take a genius to work out that you don’t need two people to clean the disabled

toilet. And it doesn’t take that long.”

“Oh my god, you said we wouldn’t talk about that.” Scarlet felt her skin shiver at how nasty they had been that day, blaming Yvie for wearing new leggings when she had pulled her away near the start of her shift.

“Sorry.” Yvie held her hands up. “But yeah, I’m pretty sure they already knew we were fucking just not…” Yvie paused for a second, pursing her lips as she searched for the right words. “Hanging out, as well.”

“I see.” Scarlet shut her book, already way too distracted to regain focus. “So every time I told Priyanka we were going to Greggs and she asked me to bring her back a sausage roll she was just taking the piss? I’ve told her they’d ran out four times now!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yvie joined Scarlet in pushing the studying aside and slid onto the bed beside her.

“But you love it,” Scarlet replied, her mind too mushy at the news to consider her word choice, noticing how Yvie’s head jolted a touch once it had come out.

“Well, I just thought I’d tell them so it wasn’t awkward if you came to my birthday…Which you don’t have to attend if you don’t want to.” Yvie brought the conversation back on track, speaking matter of factly in a way that Scarlet had just grown to relish in. “But I kind of want you to.”

“Well, it’s a good job that I want to too then, isn’t it?” Scarlet grabbed her phone, trying her best to act coy as she composed a manic all caps message to her group chat, demanding assistance on an urgent, dress buying mission.

***

On Yvie’s tenth birthday she went to the cinema and discovered the magic of mixing sweets and chocolate in the box with the popcorn, something which she still did as a teenager every time she managed to convince Brooke to see the latest horror with her. On her sixteenth she drank cheap cider in the park and had her first real kiss, laughing all the way home while Nina asked one-hundred and one questions as if Yvie was some sort of make out messiah. Although she always brushed it off as something unimportant, Yvie adored the bubbles of excitement that fizzed inside of her every time her birthday rolled around. And her eighteenth was no exception.

“You didn’t have to.” She hugged the photo frame to her chest, smothering her friends’ faces into the dark fabric of her top, knowing fine well that they’d already put some money towards Yvie’s share of their girls trip payments. She had the best friends in the world.

“So you don’t miss us too much at Uni.” Brooke grinned at her.

There was another person she’d disappoint when she failed and didn’t move away, cleaning up ice cream for the rest of her life. Yvie had only been eighteen for nineteen hours and was already feeling the crippling reality of adulthood.

Scarlet must have noticed because she rested a hand on Yvie’s wrist, a simple gesture that wouldn’t have read much to anyone else but Yvie felt under her skin and tissue and down to her bones. With her hair let loose behind her back and a shimmer of gold on her eyes, Yvie couldn’t have hated her one bit.

“You look…nice.” She’d told Scarlet when she walked into her house, a bottle of what Yvie assumed to be champagne in her hand (she couldn’t read the label but figured Scarlet wasn’t one for prosecco).

“Get you! Learning how to compliment.” Scarlet had pulled her into a hug and Yvie saw a supercut of every contact they’d ever made. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Scarlet had probably been right (as much as Yvie hated admitting when she was right). Because every time she’d gone to tell Scarlet how she felt, an arrow of quick wit and insult humour had fired from her tongue, a barrier that forever stopped her from being the weak black girl some people expected her to be. Whatever it was they had it wasn’t perfect, but when Scarlet touched her wrist she was reminded for a second how grateful she was for it. How much she’d grown to need it.

Things only better as the night went on; the girls from work arrived and showered Yvie with love and homemade jager bombs. Priyanka even managed to say hello to Brooke without her eyes falling out of her head and her tongue dropping to the floor, earning herself a pat on the back from Heidi, who was celebrating Yvie’s birthday as if it was her own now that she’d never have to lend her ID out ever again (something that she reminded everyone of at least once every half an hour). Scarlet seemed to be having fun too, bonding with Nina over their shared love of visiting New York at Christmas and their bad dancing skills. It felt normal, almost too normal.

“She’s not as bad as you say she is.” Nina piped up once they were in their Uber, free from Scarlet and her burning ears for at least five minutes.

“She was pouring champagne into Vanjie’s mouth.” Yvie laughed. “Actual champagne!”

“Why did you invite her if you don’t like her so much then?”

Nina knew what she was asking. And Yvie knew the answer. Suddenly she was brought back to that day two years earlier, the kiss she’d shared with a girl from the year above, their legs dangling from the kid’s jungle gym with the whole town below them.

“Is she, like, the one?” Nina had asked, talking at a rate of knots as they walked home.

“I don’t know.” Yvie made an attempt to brush her off. It failed.

“Did you feel butterflies? Like your heart racing and all that stuff.”

“Nah, none of that,” Yvie replied. “It was nice but I didn’t feel any of that crazy stuff.”

She was pretty sure that stuff was made up to boost romance novel sales anyways, but didn’t really fancy tearing her best friend down for the cloud fantasy she was living in.

“Well, she mustn’t be the one for you then.” Nina had linked her arm by that point, using her other hand to shine her phone torch on the ground below. “God, I get butterflies when anyone even looks at me! You’ll find someone who gives them to you soon, don’t worry.”

Yvie didn’t think she would. And if she did she didn’t really think it would be her rich boss’s daughter who played lacrosse and wrote revision notes like she was being tested on her penmanship. Yet there they were, flying around her stomach like they were on acid. She didn’t know when the stupid things had hatched from their cocoons but they certainly had - there wasn’t any turning back.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Brooke snapped Yvie back to reality, apparently not too busy grilling the driver for his life story to join in with the ambush.

Yvie didn’t bother asking what. Or answering her for that matter, instead, shrugging her shoulders in a simple way that utterly contrasted the web of complicated thoughts and debates her brain was sifting through.

“Whatever.” Nina opened the door and released her back into the wild, where the others waited on the pavement and Scarlet gave her a kooky smile that Yvie really really really wished she hated. Only she didn’t, Nina’s words running through her head when she decided that maybe it’d be a good night to just say “fuck it” and let everything spill out.

“Can I talk to you?” Yvie placed a gentle hand on her wrist, her voice hushed under the racket of her drunken friends.

“Oh.” Scarlet raised a brow, Yvie’s sincerity being mistaken for something very different in her head. “Right now? We’re about to go inside!”

“No, I didn’t mean-” Yvie started but found herself interrupted by the great Silky holler that she was now fluent enough to understand meant “Hurry up I need a drink down my neck or I’m gonna start on someone pronto”. Silky didn’t get hangry, she got thangry. And no one liked it when Silky felt thangry.

“Saved by the yell.” Scarlet giggled as they followed in tow, letting her hand fall down and dance across Yvie’s skin ever so slightly. Normally she’d berate her for making such a terrible pun but Yvie was too busy thinking about that hand and that smile and the person behind it.

“Come on.” She felt a tug on her wrist as she entered, following the arm in question to see an eager Priyanka at the other end. “Time to get you absolutely smashed.”

And absolutely smashed Yvie got. If the five shots that Priyanka bought her didn’t do it, then the cocktail pitchers she wouldn’t even remember anyone buying her the next day certainly did (even if she did spill an entire half of one when Silky insisted she jump on her back and pretend to be a human wrecking ball - the bouncers loved that one). One hand in Jaida’s and the other pointed to the ceiling, Yvie could have sworn she touched the sky for a moment as she looked across at all the people who she cared about her having the night of their lives. Brooke playing fake stubborn as Vanessa pouted and begged for her to go up and request their song for the second time that night. Heidi and Priyanka waving to the crowds around them like the absolute idiots they were. Nina, clearly simping over a girl from across the room without any intention of going up to speak to her. But Yvie couldn’t judge - there she was feeling the blood rush through her body that little bit faster the moment Scarlet came back to their group after saying hello to her school friends. Yvie had fallen way too far for any of them to lend a hand. She’d dug the grave and maybe it was time to grab a pillow and a nice book so she could at least lie there in comfort.

Holding two fingers to her mouth and making eye contact, Yvie was on her way outside with Scarlet before she knew it, hand in hand as they pushed their way through the crowds. She wondered if that would ever feel normal, Scarlet’s fingers clasped around hers just like the first time.

“What’s up with you?” Scarlet asked once they found a seat, the air dark and breezy around them. If Yvie had had a jacket she’d have popped it around her back, noticing even in her drunken state that the hairs on Scarlet’s arm were standing up, a tiny chatter in her teeth with every word. “You’re being really nice tonight.”

“It is my birthday.” Yvie laughed, feeling the blush race to her cheeks. God, she was even worse than Nina.

“It’s still weird. It’s unnerving me.”

“Do you want me to be rude to you?” Yvie laughed, even more, opting to place her hands on either side of Scarlet’s arms, rubbing up and down to keep her warm after feeling her body shake.

“If you’re rude to me then you won’t get your present.”

Yvie didn’t know what to think. She’d stalked Scarlet and her friends enough on Instagram to know what birthday presents meant: Swarovski bracelets, Vivienne Westwood earrings and Tiffany necklaces. They did it all and the thought was terrifying.

“I told you not to spend any money on me.” Yvie flashed back to the day she invited Scarlet, highlighting the “no presents just presence” part of the offer.

“I didn’t.” Scarlet leaned in and kissed her cheek, not caring who was around and watching. Yvie would feel the sticky mark from her gloss all night and even the next morning, she wished later that she’d wiped it off then and there before everything came tumbling down and how she looked was the last thing on her mind.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Yvie rolled her eyes, thinking of how many times she’d watched Scarlet tap down her contactless debit at any opportunity. The smell of the new handbags was basically her opium. But Yvie didn’t care, Scarlet’s weekly shopping trips became a quirk of hers that Yvie found herself starting to love that touch more than she hated. If she didn’t get her place at Uni she could always just stay in that grave she’d dug, it was becoming more and more like home by the second.

“I was gonna tell you later when we’re sober and not in the middle of the smoking area but…” Scarlet grabbed her phone and started scrolling, a childlike grin on her face that was normally only reserved for her giddiest moments.

At first, Yvie didn’t take in what Scarlet was showing her, the writing a bit fuzzy beyond her beer goggles and Scarlet saying far too many words at once for her to process.

“Naomi’s cousin did it and I thought it would help you out but I know how stubborn and busy you are and didn’t want you to have anything more on your plate so I did all the application and stuff for you. There’s a reference from my Dad and one of your essays then you just had to answer some questions about where you live and stuff like that then you got the lower offer…”

She kept talking but Yvie zoned out, her eyes focusing on the words “supported progression” and “increasing diversity”. But then the words blurred even more and Yvie didn’t even realise it was because she was crying until it was too late to fight.

“Hey.” Scarlet wiped away at her cheeks, her hands even colder than before as Yvie felt her body starting to burn. “It’s alright, we’ll talk about it later.”

“You think I need handouts?” Yvie wanted so badly to look at her but couldn’t, screwing her eyes shut instead where nothing was spinning and she couldn’t see the way Scarlet’s face changed before her.

“No, no. You’ve got it wrong. I just saw how stressed you were and knew it would help you. Look Yvie, they lowered your grades. It’s a great opportunity. Let’s just carry on with our night, yeah? I shouldn’t have shown you now.”

And suddenly everything poured out of Yvie’s lips. The time a customer at work had made a complaint about her tone of voice and unnecessary anger. The time a boy in year eight had told her she was pretty for a black girl. Every single time an ignorant white girl thought they were single-handedly destroying racism by picking her for their team in rounders and using her as some sort of diversity token. She felt it all, her eyes still shut so she was speaking to all of them and not just Scarlet.

“You think this is a present? Helping the black girl from the council estate get a lower Uni offer cause she needs a step up to be like everyone else?”

“Yvie, no. That’s not why I did it. I was trying to help.” Yvie could hear her voice breaking but didn’t want to look, couldn’t let herself look.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” She tried to fight it but Yvie didn’t let her, the thought of Scarlet filling those forms in replaying in her mind. She wondered how many boxes she’d checked, how close she was to not being poor enough or not being black enough to get rejected from the scheme. She thought about the people like Scarlet who went to private school and never had to work a day in their lives with their shiny new offers, she wondered if they’d think that was the only reason she got there, she needed a hand up to get to their level.

“I opened so much to you.” Yvie clenched her fists and somehow managed to draw blood. “It might not seem like it but I fucking did Scarlet, I thought you understood.”

“I do, I promise. It’s like those female-only MP spots we talked about, remember? You said they were cool. I’m sorry, I should have spoken to you, come back inside.”

Yvie finally opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t; because Scarlet looked like someone had murdered a puppy right before her and she wanted nothing more to do than to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But it wasn’t. So she couldn’t. She’d known from the start that they were from different worlds and hated herself at that moment for believing any different. This wasn’t Scarlet’s fault, it was her own.

“I didn’t mean to, Yves. Please don’t hate me.” Scarlet could sense Yvie’s anger, shivering still in her spot as Yvie stood up to leave.

Yvie wanted to laugh. Two hours earlier she’d decided tonight was the night she’d tell Scarlet that she might have accidentally fallen in love with her. Yet there she was, Scarlet’s lip gloss sticky on her cheek with her shoes in her hand, ready to run as far away as she could till the world around her stopped spinning and she wasn’t hurting anymore.

“I really wished I did.”

She didn’t turn around to see Scarlet’s reaction, those five words ringing in her head all the way home and keeping her awake whilst the sky turned into pinks and reds and oranges. They stayed there for months, a thousand other things she could have said mounting in her brain over time all to be pushed aside by those words that followed her. She heard them behind the blaring music when she went to hand in her notice at work, hidden in the muffled cry that Heidi made as they hugged to the future. She saw them in the exam hall that June, written on the bricks in chalk all around before she had the chance to turn over her paper, reminding her of every single thing she’d sacrificed for that moment. They followed her into summer as the sun shone brighter and the nights got longer, there to tease her on the day her biggest dream came true when she opened her envelope and her first thought was that she wanted to tell Scarlet.

That feeling still lingered the week after results day, where most people were still celebrating, rolling into their houses at four in the morning with the childhood friends they’d soon have to take three trains to visit, savouring every last moment of those precious months where they would have absolutely zero responsibilities to their name.

Yvie wished she was one of those people, alternatively finding herself cramped on the bus in a slightly too tight white shirt, ready for her third job interview that month. She wished was chilling in Brooke’s room instead like the rest of her friends were, laughing at their Snapchat stories from the night before and deleting the ones where you could hear their singing a lot louder than they’d realised at the time (although she assumed they were still asleep and hadn’t gotten to that stage of the day yet, as evident in Vanessa’s beautiful rendition of Christina Aguilara that blasted through her headphones and just begged for Yvie to take a screen recording). She flicked through their stories a few more times before Heidi’s name had popped up, wishing her good luck on her interview in their group chat.

“Hope you don’t get it and have to come back here until you go to Uni xxx” Priyanka added, always the loving and supportive friend of the group.

She really missed them. Almost as much as she missed someone else.

“You underestimate my persuasion skills.” Yvie sent back, knowing fine well that she was missing a very important trait that interviewers looked for - actually turning up.

She’d made it to the first one, pacing around the store with her CV in hand, raring to go. Things changed of course when a gaggle of girls with tartan skirts entered to rake through the shelves, the familiar blue of their uniform reminding them of why she was even there in the first place and sending her flying out the door before her name was even called. The second was an even shorter experience, having simply let the bus go past the stop without ringing the bell, an accident on purpose that took her all the way to the other side of town. Yvie had always thought she knew which side of the fight or flight analysis she stood proudly and grounded on, but if the urge to yeet herself off the bus and run home the second the restaurant came into sight wasn’t enough to prove how wrong she’d been then nothing else would.

Third time a charm?

She took one more peek at her phone before making her way through the door, quickly scanning her messages one more time and avoiding the small number one that burst out the corner of the text app. She’d open it when she was ready.

“Yvonne?” A familiar girl asked, raising a thick eyebrow her way.

“Yvie.” She pulled the best fake smile that three years of drama lessons in school had provided her with, praying it was enough to cover the utter disdain that came with hearing her full name, something usually reserved for family members and the front of exam papers. She knew people had worse, she could shorten Yvonne. It wasn’t awful, just not Yvie. And at least her mother never decided to name her after a piece of fruit.

If she didn’t have company she’d have slapped herself against the face for even letting her thoughts slip close to Scarlet again, opting instead to pinch the skin on her hand (there was still a mark from when she’d done the same thing a few days prior, having let even the cereals at the supermarket bring back soft memories of the girl that she fought so hard to keep away from).

“My Dad’ll be out in a minute.” The girl turned on her heel to walk away and Yvie realised why she recognised her, laughing to herself at the thought of working with Nina’s utterly obvious crush from sixth form who didn’t even know she existed. She thought about Brooke and Priyanka and what a funny reverse it would be to have her school friend gushing over her work friend instead of the other way around.

Not that this girl was Priyanka, or this place was the centre. It just wasn’t and Yvie knew already. Maybe she wouldn’t tell Nina about Bob’s sister, after all doing that would only catch her in a lie when she inevitably fucked the whole thing up and didn’t dare admit it. Because admitting that she messed up the interview would only lead to admitting a bigger and scarier thought in Yvie’s head.

She really, really wanted to go back in time. If not then a little bit forward, just so the interview was over and she could return back to the comfort of her bed with the new sheets that she’d bought so she could take her old ones to Uni and not because they reminded her of ginger hair tossed out on her pillow and the infuriating yet adorable noise of Scarlet grinding her teeth in her sleep. Definitely the former.

Only she wasn’t a wizard, not even a bit close like all those kids at Scarlet’s school with their house teams and fancy lessons. So the interview started like normal, Yvie jumping over each hurdle the best she could, stumbling a tad when he asked her about why she wanted to work there and she knew “I broke the heart of my ex-bosses daughter and can no longer show my face there but need money” would not have been a sufficient answer. The next few were okay, her feet gliding over nicely as she rattled off one thing or another about her time management skills and ability to work well under pressure. However, she let her face smack the ground on the final hurdle, the finish line almost in sight.

The dreaded character reference.

Yvie watched as he dropped it from his hands and onto the desk - the first time she’d properly looked at it after asking Brooke to print it and shoving it in her file without so much as a once-over. She tried her best to look back up, to engage and catch the interviewer’s eye like she knew she was supposed to, except her own eyes were glued to a familiar font she’d seen many times before. Her mind flashed to all the time spent reading detailed flashcards on the War of the Roses with Scarlet, shooting questions across the room aggressively like they were in the battle themselves (she was the House of Lancaster, red with danger and passion and Scarlet was York, pure and white as she pulled a face of utter distress at every date she couldn’t remember). She knew that font.

“Your reference is pretty impressive.” He looked back up but Yvie was still staring anyway. “This is from your previous employer?”

“Y-yes.” Yvie spat her words, realising at that moment that the character reference that persuaded her University to give her a lower offer, the reference that was two pages long and signed sincerely from her Scarlet’s dad, was in fact written by a passionate eighteen-year-old with a heart of gold and a strange affinity for using the word “conversely”. A realisation that was only a few months too late. If she’d wanted to go back in time earlier…

“Well, I’m surprised he let you go reading this.” He pointed a finger to a specific paragraph and Yvie let her eyes move along the page, his words background noise to Scarlet’s voice speaking clearly in her head.

“In the time that I have employed Yvie, I have been able to see not only her incredibly high standards concerning every aspect of her life but also the passion, vulnerability and humility behind every decision she makes. Watching Yvie blossom into the resilient and determined woman she is today has brought great pleasure to my eyes, however, even more pleasure has been found in seeing the growth she has encouraged in those around her, constantly bringing a sense of warmth and comfort to her coworkers in the most subtle of ways when she isn’t even trying to.”

In the past few months, Yvie had cried a total of three times. The first being her birthday, the night she lost the best part of her entire year in one quick visit to the smoking area. The second was results night - happy tears that had absolutely nothing to do with the text she’d pushed away to the top of her screen after reading the first few words. At least that’s what she’d told Brooke and Nina. Nothing to do with the text or the urge she had to run across to Slug and Lettuce as fast as she could and drag Scarlet away from her half-price cocktails just so they could pretend things were how they used to be for one night. She’d also have told her that she was proud of her, whispered it in her ear as they lay intertwined and said it over and over again so Scarlet knew she meant it. Only she didn’t, the words falling off her cheeks and onto the toilet floor instead, where Scarlet wouldn’t have been able to see them even with her glasses on. So it came as no surprise that the third time was Scarlet-related too, the reference turning more and more blurry as she tried to read on, eventually slipping through her fingers and turning into a jumble of black and white she didn’t have the strength to unscramble.

In the most simple of terms, she’d fucked it. Well and truly fucked it. At least she was one hundred per cent sure of that.

“Sorry, I-” Yvie started but couldn’t find the words to finish, pushing her chair back with such force that it dropped to the floor with a painful clang.

Yeah, maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t turned up after all.

“Thanks for your time.” She mumbled, scooping the chair from the ground and swiping the reference from the table in an awkward and clunky motion.

It would have been so easy to blame Scarlet, to be angry about how many years she’d spent being strong and resilient, immune to vulnerability. To be annoyed at how suddenly she’d waltzed in and smashed all that to pieces with a kick of her designer flats. But if there was one thing Yvie had come to realise that year it was that she only ever made things harder for herself. And despite always saying she loved her life how it was, that was something she had to change. Pronto.

***

“I got you a double vodka.” The girl, Gigi, motioned as Scarlet took her seat, not even bothering to apologise for being late. Not that she’d have had an excuse anyway, having spent all morning laying like a dog on her bed and scrolling aimlessly down her phone until she had twenty minutes to go and figured she might as well start getting ready. Oh, how things had changed.

“Thanks.” Scarlet tried her best to conjure up a smile, her throat wavering as she took a sip and imagined it was a nice fruity cocktail instead. Before she probably would have gagged a little at the taste but she was trying to be less dramatic about things. Of course, a ridiculous idea about ‘accidentally’ spilling it then going to order a fishbowl instead crossed her mind but she managed to shoo it away. Gigi had spent good money on that drink and if Scarlet had learnt any lesson that year it was that you should never take a gift for granted.

“Were you at work today?” She asked, placing her hand on the table just close enough that Scarlet’s hand would brush it if she went for another sip.

Scarlet couldn’t deny that she was ravishing, her eyes screamed sex and she had a beauty mark on her right cheek that just proved she was the modern-day incarnation of Marilyn Monroe. Objectively, she was very pretty and Scarlet should have been proud.

Yet she did not move her hand.

“Nah. My sister has a dance recital this evening, had to make sure my day was all clear.”

It was stupid really, organising a date when she knew she had plans later, essentially shutting down any possibility of taking things further. Only Scarlet wasn’t stupid at all, not in the slightest.

She let the small talk go on further, from travels to Uni to work to friends to food then back to Uni again. Scarlet could see the similarities, the expensive taste they both shared and the fact that Gigi too seemed to live life with the neatness and perfection that Scarlet thrived on. If she were to colour in she’d do it perfectly within the edges, even going as far as ripping the page out if she went over the lines. They should have slotted together perfectly. Should have.

“Did I tell you that you’re gorgeous yet?” The comment took Scarlet off guard, slipped casually into the conversation in that clever witty way she’d always wished she could emulate herself. The way the male lead did in movies and the girl would always swoon and decide that was the moment she was in love with him. In the past she would have loved it, her ever-so-slightly inflated ego taking in any compliment she could get and running with it until the cows returned for their pasture.

“Nope.” She took another sip of the drink, surprised at how little was actually gone. “But you don’t need to, I already know.”

“Sorry.” Her date held two hands in the air and stifled and awkward laugh. Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t fight back. Tell her to get her head out of her arse or else she’d get even more lost than the time she went to London with Plastique and caught the wrong tube twice in succession. Scarlet really, really wanted her to fight back.

“I guess you must think I am too.” She raised a thick brow in Scarlet’s direction. “Or else you wouldn’t have gotten with me on results day.”

Around sixth form, Scarlet was known for having high standards: rolling her eyes in the common room if there was no peppermint tea left because she simply couldn’t have any of the other flavours, never leaving the house without at least two accessories on and always doing the extra reading on her homework even if she was having the busiest of weeks. Her standards were well past the stratosphere and she was never afraid of being a diva about them.

That being said, results day Scarlet would have gotten with absolutely anyone on that night be they male, female, gorgeous or not. Results day Scarlet’s standards were set somewhere in the Earth’s core, about two-thousand and nine hundred kilometres below the sticky floor of the club she was in. She was desperate to feel something or someone. And Gigi was there at her service.

“I guess.” Scarlet tried her best to be polite, her mind flashing back to that night when she felt Gigi’s red lips on her neck as she tried so hard to feel something. To feel someone. To fuck someone. To fuck Yvie and the “Delivered” that sat below the congratulations message Scarlet had sent her that day. A giant fuck you to the girl who’d she’d grown and blossomed with, who’d left her to wilt in the sun without any water after such a stupid mistake. A stupid mistake that she now understood the weight of in pounds and ounces and any other unit of measurement you could think of.

“You guess, damn.” Gigi took her time coming back, looking at her thighs as if there were secret cue cards hidden under the table that told her how to respond to all of Scarlet’s remarks.

Maybe Scarlet needed someone a little more rough around the edges. Someone who let the pens teeter over the lines and used whatever colours they liked despite logic saying there are no such things as bright purple palm trees.

It would have been so easy to be with someone like Gigi, someone who shared her lifestyle, complimented her and tried her hardest to keep the conversation flowing even when awkwardness took over. But that year Scarlet had tasted difficult, complicated and down-right mind-boggling all wrapped in one dish and it was so much nicer than easy.

Easy was boring.

So she did what any other kinda-shitty human would have done on a first date they weren’t enjoying and texted her best friend under the table to call and collect her as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Naomi had never fully understood the “soon” part and left Scarlet to make painful small talk for a whole thirty minutes before pulling up outside and ringing Scarlet with the most ridiculous of emergencies.

“Seriously? That’s the best you could do?” Scarlet pulled a look of utter disbelief the second the car door was shut.

“Bitch, be grateful. I didn’t have to come rescue you.”

“I am grateful.” Scarlet grabbed her friend’s phone and began to queue songs without thought. “I just thought you’d come up with something better than ‘my dog has diarrhoea’, that’s all.”

“You still left!” Naomi laughed as she revved up the engine. “What was it then? Did she have no good chat? Uglier than you remember?”

“Nah, she was prettier actually.” Scarlet played with the ring on her finger, sliding it up and down so much that her skin turned red.

“Serial killer then?” Naomi paused at some traffic lights and took the opportunity to skip the next selection in Scarlet’s line up. “Sorry, that song is way too depressing.”

“She was nice! Just not for me.” She took the ring off completely, rolling it between her thumb and finger as if the small action would detract from every single thing going on in her brain.

“Oh no.” Naomi pulled a look of horror. “I get it.”

“Get what?” Scarlet squealed as her friend took a sharp left, the opposite direction to her house. “Where are you taking me, an early grave?”

“The abandoning a date with the prettiest girl in town, the sad songs. You’re still hung up on Yvie.”

“I’m not!” Scarlet protested, trying her hardest to be nonchalant but instead sounding like a toddler who’d been accused of stealing extra biscuits at break time. Ever so subtle. “Where are we even going?”

“McDonald’s car park. So you can tell me yet again about how guilty you feel and what an awful mistake you made and how you just want everything to be how it was before because it’s just not fair!” Naomi mimicked Scarlet’s dramatic whine and she couldn’t help but give her credit for how spot-on she was, even if she had had a solid seven years of science lessons and after school shopping trips to practice.

“And then you can tell me that life’s not fair and I just have to accept that Yvie hates me again even though I understand everything now?”

“Exactly!” Naomi made her way into the drive-through, stalling at the first pause and making Scarlet laugh for what felt like the first time in months. “You’d think I’d be an expert at this by now, the number of times I’ve had to drag you here.”

“You would be if life was fair.” Scarlet poked her in the rib, happy to have a friend who knew that she needed cheering up before she even knew herself.

And that’s just what she did, reminding Scarlet about Uni and all the girls who would happily bully her there so she didn’t have to pine for the one who had left her, sliding between deep and lighthearted as they ate their meals so slowly they turned cold.

“I just miss her, Naomi.” Scarlet took the last spoonful of her McFlurry, wishing she didn’t have Lemon’s stupid recital and could have gone round again for a second one. Maybe even a third. “I know she’s a dickhead and you think she doesn’t deserve me. But we were good. Really good.”

“I know.” Naomi planted a kiss on her friend’s forehead, pulling her into the biggest of cuddles before starting the car up again and changing the subject. “So, how many shit dances are you gonna have to sit through tonight before your sister comes on for five minutes?”

“Hmmm. Maybe thirty? I’ll make sure to let you know.”

She was close, opening the program as soon as she sat down that evening to count a whole twenty-seven names before Lemon’s, sending Naomi a quick text with the rolling eyes emoji that had suddenly become her most frequently used (replacing the eyes pouring with tears one of course).

She stopped watching altogether ten dances in, letting her eyes travel around the theatre and play out little scenarios in each balcony or scenario, something about the place just screaming romance when you blocked out the fifteen-year-olds forgetting the moves to the Greatest Showman soundtrack on stage (one performance to Rewrite the Stars stood out in particular, reminding her of the time it played in work and Yvie made a joke about how it could have been them but Scarlet wasn’t suave enough to be the Zac Efron character). After twenty she took a trip to the toilet, topping up her gloss and mascara for absolutely no one to see in the dim lighting.

It was a long night, to say the least, Scarlet eager at the edge of the seat by the time dancer number twenty-seven had taken their ridiculously extra walk off the stage and she heard her bratty baby’s name announced on the speaker. Just because she had no desire to clap for other people’s family didn’t mean she wasn’t a secret stage-sister when it came to watching Lemon, wishing she could pull out her phone and record like the cool mom from Mean Girls.

Only it’s a good job she didn’t because, after not one but two calls of her name, there was no sight of Lemon and her big yellow feather boa that Scarlet had bought specifically for that night.

Tripping over at least four sets of feet on her way, Scarlet clambered over the stalls the best she could, dashing to the backstage area as fast as she could once the next girl’s name was called and her routine started. Crazy thoughts ran through her head, images of Lemon locked in storage closets or being carted off into an ambulance with a cast on her leg flashing up as she ran up to an assistant and asked perhaps too forcefully why her sister was not tapping away on that stage like she should have been.

“There was someone without a ticket asking after her at the front desk, I thought she had come back!”

Scarlet didn’t know if he was speaking to her or his headpiece but she was gone again, her size fives working double-time to go and figure out whether it was her absent parents or Lemon’s stupid airhead friends that have caused her to miss her dance and send the gay intern into a state of existential panic.

Glasses at aid, it didn’t take long to find her, feathers falling from the boa as Lemon shook it in her hands with her words. Maybe Scarlet should have spent a little more money on it after all…

Scarlet shouted for her down the hall, the stage-sister persona now fully developed and realised.

But her sister ignored her, continuing to point her finger in the sassiest of manners that would probably have left her cleaning the pantry for two weeks at home - that ruled out her parents, for sure.

“What are you…” Scarlet started but lost the words once she turned the corner and finally got a sight of who her sister was berating. “Oh.”

“I went to the centre but Jaida said you had the day off to watch Lemon dance,” Yvie spoke simply and clearly.

It seemed crazy seeing her in person after spending so long trying to push her portrait out of her head and convince herself that she didn’t exist. But there she was, real as day, her eyes slightly red and her shirt haphazardly tucked into her trousers. “This is the third place I’ve tried but they wouldn’t let me in.”

For perhaps one of the first times ever in her life, Scarlet couldn’t think of anything to say.

“She had a date today too,” Lemon smirked in Yvie’s direction and Scarlet watched her face drop more than it had the day that she’d planned a walk for the two of them around the botanic gardens only for it to be closed (Scarlet went alone once just before her exams and almost let herself cry thinking about how much Yvie really knew her).

“Lemon!” Scarlet’s mind caught up as she turned to her sister and gave her the black look of death that they had devised as kids to show when they were not playing games.

“What? She can just break your heart and then waltz into my dance show with some flowers and it’s alright.”

Scarlet hadn’t even noticed the flowers until then - big, red daisies that Yvie was gripping onto far too tight, her nails thorns pressed into her palm. She wanted to take them just so Yvie would stop, to slip her own hand there instead like they had done so many times.

“She didn’t break my heart Lemon, oh my god.” Scarlet’s face spoke a thousand words she wasn’t saying out loud and they were all synonyms for something starting with fuck and ending with off.

“So you just listened to Lana Del Rey on repeat for weeks with the door shut for fun?”

“Excuse me.” A scary-looking woman with a security badge pinned to her lapel rose her voice over her sister’s. She was now officially Scarlet’s number one hero, Audrey Hepburn being shot down in favour of the godsend who parted the red sea to put an end to the ex-flame vs. sister crisis that Scarlet was trapped in. “This is not the place for arguments, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“She’s meant to be dancing, can she go back in?” Scarlet pulled her best puppy dog eyes and batted her eyelashes praying that the woman would let her. It was, after all, the least she could do given that she was now also ranked above Grace Kelly and Arianna Huffington in the mental list of important women who impacted her life. Quite an honour, if she thought so herself.

“If you leave.” The woman pointed to the door before escorting Scarlet and Yvie outside like two school kids who had to spend their lunchtime standing on the wall for being naughty (not that that had ever actually happened to Scarlet herself as a kid. She imagined it would have happened to Yvie and her blunt tongue though, letting a laugh out at the mental image of the girl aged ten having a huff for missing golden time).

“Ring me when you’re done!” Scarlet shouted to her sister before the doors closed on them and they were released to the night sky that had been a cloudy blue when Scarlet first arrived.

And suddenly she was left alone with Yvie. With the girl who had ignored her texts. Who she’d cried over in McDonald’s car park at least seven times by then. Who she longed for every time she even made eye contact with another girl. Who had left her alone in the smoking area with nothing but the taste of corked champagne in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Yvie spoke for the first time since she’d first seen her, bending down to sit on the curb. Scarlet didn’t have to think twice about joining her.

“It’s fine, I can’t say that was the most exciting thing to watch, anyway.” She motioned to the theatre behind them, the street lamp lighting up Yvie’s face just enough to see her crack a smile. Scarlet pushed the confusion and the past aside for a moment just to take in that smile.

“Not for that.” She gripped her palm again and this time Scarlet couldn’t stop herself from grabbing her hand to stop her. “For before, for everything. I don’t know who you’re seeing or anything but I just couldn’t go away at the end of this summer without telling you that I’m sorry.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” Scarlet’s heart was beating fast and all of a sudden she was at the back of the cafe with Yvie again, the rest of the world in 2D as they spun in their own little bubble.

“I’m sorry for abandoning you, for making things harder for myself because I got scared. Scared of stupid things that I knew you never even meant. I just never even knew what I felt myself and once I did then I tried to deny it.”

“I’m sorry too.” For once Scarlet was glad she was wearing her glasses in front of Yvie or else she’d be able to see the tears welling in her eyes that very moment. “For being naive and thinking I knew what was best for you.”

And things carried on that way, Scarlet unable to hide the tears for much longer when Yvie told her that she didn’t have to say sorry, that she didn’t even have to forgive her. She just had to listen and try her best to understand. Yvie spoke about when she was a kid, about the day she realised she was different to all the other girls in her class and the day she lost the ability to tell if she hated something or loved it. She talked about the first time they met, the first time they had sex and the first time she thought fuck I’m in far too deep. About the past few months and how they had been, her words not Scarlet’s, like the “nine circles of hell on steroids’’. About how she read the reference and realised those were probably the nicest things a person had ever said about her, and how awful it felt to realise she’d pushed that person away.

“It was all true, the reference.” Scarlet squeezed her hand when she finished, proud of Yvie for managing to speak so many of her thoughts and feelings into the universe and even prouder of herself for not interrupting even once.

“I really brought a sense of warmth to you?” Yvie chuckled as she regained her composure, raising a brow at Scarlet like she had so many times before. “I think I’m the coldest person I know.”

“God knows how but yes, you did.” Scarlet leant in close. “You do.”

The kiss felt like home and Scarlet tried to thank every single star in the sky she could see for it but was swiftly interrupted by the second kiss. She’d have to get up a diagram of the entire solar system to pay her gratitude for the second kiss.

“See? Warmth.” She whispered into Yvie’s ear.

“You don’t have to forgive me that fast, Scarlet. This isn’t a story, things take time.”

“Well, it’s a good job we have some left to work on that before you go to Uni then isn’t it? Now, do you wanna kiss again or carry on telling me about how painstakingly awful it was getting over me? Either is fine by me.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Yvie teased her. “I could probably do it all over again if I had to.”

“You’d be willing to risk that?”

“For this?” Yvie pulled her into another kiss, this one stronger, making up for the months they’d missed and setting precedent for the few weeks they had left. If there was still an inkling inside of Scarlet that Yvie hated her then that kiss washed it right away with the rain that fell, all the way down the banks and into the river that night. “One hundred per cent.”

#rpdr fanfiction #got my number #if we walk down this road #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #scyvie #lesbian au #sixth form au #high school au #british au #enemies to lovers #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #ashley #tw references to racism and racial sterotypes #concrit welcome

[trashfor-imagines]

The Music Series: Haikyū Edition! | 2

21 ft. Oikawa x Reader

Summary: You were always on and off with Oikawa in high school, but it was clear you were in love. However, it was hard knowing you would barely make the top three in his life. Warnings: None, really. A seasoning of angst, for taste. Spoilers: If you’re only caught up on the anime, this story mentions what happens to the characters in the manga after high school and their professional lives.

-

“Toru! There’s a difference between putting volleyball first and just not calling me to say you needed to cancel our date. You straight up didn’t show!” you yelled, tears welling in your eyes. You willed them not to fall. “I know I’m not your number one priority, no one is, but for once can you at least act like you mean it when you say I’m - a - priority?”

He stood there silently in the living room of his apartment feeling small and terrible. He left you waiting in the rain for a date that he wasn’t going to show up to. Again. The coach had extended practice and it didn’t cross his mind to tell you, simply excited to play more. This was the same old fight since high school and he knew he should have known better by now. He had always made volleyball a priority and you honestly didn’t mind - he knew that, but being young and dumb and incapable of communication, he’d always tell everyone you broke up with him because you thought he was obsessed with the sport and not because he was incapable of thinking of others’ needs. Iwaizumi had always told him he was a fool when it came to you and honestly he wished his best friend was there to remind him of what to do to fix this.

“You’ve had so many chances. You don’t respect me and I can’t do this. Call me when you figure out how to dial my number. Or don’t. You probably won’t.”

You slammed the door shut and it absolutely destroyed you to go home alone that night.

 “‘Hit it until it breaks.’ Huh. Just like your relationship,” Takeru snickered at you as he looked at an old sports magazine in the dessert cafe you were at. He found an old interview of Toru in it. “My uncle’s an idiot. I’m sure he’ll call you soon, big sis.”

It’d been two weeks since you broke up with Toru and you’ve heard nothing. Not even a blip on social media. Feeling bad about yourself, combined with the fact it was summer break, you went home to Miyagi for some R&R. You had a few things for Toru’s mom that you’d been collecting so you stopped by to drop it off. Takeru just happened to be staying there for the week and asked if you’d take him out to do something. Now you were sitting at a cafe having kakigori and honestly his company was incredible, despite being almost 11 years younger than you.

“I can’t believe my only friend right now is Toru’s 9 year old nephew,” you sighed softly. Your college friends were busy with their jobs, internships, and extra curricular activities that they hardly had time to sit on a phone call let alone come over to watch you cry over Oikawa Toru for the hundredth time. You weren’t even going to try calling Iwaizumi about it. Last time you asked his childhood best friend to knock some sense into the man, he simply replied back with an upside down smiley face emoji. What the hell did that even mean?

Takeru’s cheeks puffed up and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey! I’m almost 10! And I can leave if you’re going to be like that. I swear, you’re just as bad as uncle.”

“Hey. No swearing of anything,” you reprimanded him. “And don’t go.”

“Fine, but only because I like you.”

“So... got a girlfriend yet?” you teased, changing the topic.

“Big sis, I know we Oikawas are good looking, but aren’t you a little old for me?” he deadpanned.

Your face lit up red. “You little brat! I wasn’t asking for me!”

School was starting up next week so you went back after a couple of days home. The Oikawa family actually cried when you told them you were going back, having missed seeing you almost every day like when you were in high school. They were an incredible family with their own quirks who loved each other so much. It was similar to your own.

It was Sunday afternoon and you were cleaning your apartment when you got a phone call from Toru’s mom, asking if you’d talked to her son today.

“No, I’m afraid we still haven’t spoken. Is something wrong? Do I need to get to him?” you asked, panic levels rising in your voice.

“No, no, my sweet daughter. Nothing like that,” she sighed softly. “He should really be the one to tell you this, but Takeru said not a chance. He was drafted as a setter for Club Atlético San Juan today. My son’s going to Argentina.”

You dropped your phone in shock, the noise of it clattering to the floor interrupting your short meltdown. Quickly picking up the phone, you apologized before asking questions. “When is he going? W-what about school? And you and the family?”

‘And me?’ you wanted to ask.

Carefully, you listened to every detail she could give you. Your heart was so heavy you were sure you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Time passed painfully. Days turned to months. Soon it was a new year. Then it was graduation. You started a job as a graphic designer that allowed you to work remotely and you did freelance photography, often shooting for travel magazines. You moved home to Miyagi to live with your parents when you weren’t traveling, cutting out unnecessary expenses. It wasn’t smart to have your own place when you weren’t going to use it for 3/4 of the year. The truth was, life was lonely without Toru around. Sometimes you found your vision blurring with tears whenever your phone pinged as a new article featuring the setter was published, or when you let your mind wander to old memories.

You were in Australia when June came around. Life had been pretty exciting for you since April, picking up a photo journalism job for National Geographic touring Southeast Asia and Australia. You’d briefly gotten away from thoughts of Toru when you received a photo late one night from Iwaizumi of Toru and that cute little tangerine from Karasuno on the beach by a volleyball net. Apparently they ran into each other in Rio

(Y/N): Thanks Iwa. Iwaizumi: Np.

After Australia, you went home for a few weeks before you were on a flight to Bolivia to capture the Uyuni Salt Flat. It didn’t take too long to complete the job and you found yourself sitting in your hotel room and scrolling through Toru’s social media. Selfies on him throwing up peace signs, his teammates, sunsets, food, nothing out of the ordinary filled his feed. You didn’t scroll for long though; photos of the two of you would start appearing.

A notification pinged on your phone and your brows furrowed. It was his birthday tomorrow. Setting down your phone, you packed your bag. You were going home in a few hours.

While waiting for your flight, you wondered if that notification was a sign to call him. You stared at his number, unsure. Was it even his number still? You probably locked and unlocked your phone thirty times before setting it to airplane mode. It was time to board. The almost the entire flight home was sleepless as the need to call him grew and grew.

By the time you made it to Japan with over a day and a half of flying due to inconveniently timed layovers, his birthday was over. You wanted to look at his Instastory to see what he did. It was his 21st birthday. He’d been excited for that one because it meant he could “drink anywhere in the world.”

When you got home you unpacked and went about your day. It was midnight when you went to the rooftop terrace of your parents’ house and sat on one of the couches. You called stared at Toru’s contact photo for thirty minutes before you called, pressing the phone to your ear and waiting.

“(Y/N)?” You bit your lip, words suddenly leaving you. “(Y/N), are you there?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m here. Happy birthday, Toru. Sorry I’m a day late.”

“That’s okay, and thank you. It’s good to hear your voice.” His sounded sweet and gentle. There was a hint of a sleep as well, making you laugh quietly. Definitely partied. Definitely just woke up.

“It’s good to hear yours as well. So how was it? Turning 21.” You pinched your thigh out of nervousness.

“It was nice. My teammates took me out to a club. Definitely drank too much and stayed up later than I should have. Iwa would have been pissed.” There was a playfulness in his tone.

“Wow, wish I had been there.”

“Me too, (Y/N). I’m sure you would have done something cooler though. You’re really good at that stuff.”

You laughed lightly, “Well, you know me. I definitely already had a plan for your 21st when you turned 20.”

He laughed as well, boyish and familiar. “Really? What was your plan then?”

“I’d have thrown you a surprise party; invited Iwaizumi and your old teammates, our friends from college. The theme would have been Around the World. I would have set up a photo booth. We’d have drinks from different countries to try, play different drinking games, and dress like tourists.” Your vision began to blur and your voice wavered. “We’d stay up so late that-” You stopped mid sentence, covering your mouth with your hand as you tried to swallow your sobs.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He sounded so concerned it killed you.

Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes furiously. “No. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. My whole family’s been on me since we... You know. They call me all the time to tell me what you’re up to and where you’re going next. They really love your postcards and little souvenirs. Seriously... Thanks for looking over them.”

“Of course. I mean, your mom calls me daughter,” you laughed sadly.

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she.” He paused and the conversation lulled for a moment. Clearing his throat, he spoke up again, “I’ll be home next week if you’re in Miyagi. It’s just a quick visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” You had so much more you wanted to say, but you wished him good night instead.

“Good night.”

Days passed and you wondered when he’d be home. You hadn’t heard from him since that phone call and you weren’t going to bother the Oikawas over this. His original plan was probably to come home and see his family. You only became a part of it because you called him. You had to be patient. If you fit into his plans, then you fit into them. You couldn’t force it.

It was Saturday morning when the doorbell rang. You were still in your pajamas when you answered the door, speechless to see Toru standing there with your favorite flowers in his hand. He smiled wide. “Let’s go out, (Y/N).”

Letting him in, you told him to make himself at home while you got ready. It didn’t take you long as you put together a cute new outfit you’d gotten the other day in town. Applying light make up, you checked your hair before heading downstairs.

The two of you walked into town, going to a cafe that you both often frequented throughout high school. He ordered your usual and it was a small crumb of relief to know that he still remembered something as trivial as a drink order. The two of you sat quietly, hands cradling cups, observing each other and taking your appearances. You'd both evolved in over a year. Toru had always been capable of being serious if need be, but his default settings were usually stuck at high school drama queen levels. He was definitely more mature and he’d always been attractive, but he oozed sex appeal right now and you wondered if it was because you were already biased towards him. No, you knew what it was. He had more confidence.

“I guess I should explain what happened. I called Iwaizumi that night after you left. He was pissed it was so late. He called me an idiot, told me stop wasting your time and grow up. I hadn’t told you about it, but I was struggling with a few things. Remember Jose Blanco?”

You nodded, sipping from your cup. He and Toru connected in high school when Toru wasn’t sure about what to do with volleyball anymore. He’d helped so much and was a great mentor.

“I was talking to him about a few things that were on my mind. Then you and I broke up. He ended up talking to some people and I got a call that I was going to play for San Juan. I got swept up with interviews and press statements and moving. The next thing I knew, I was half way across the world with no idea how to tell you I was starting my overseas career earlier than planned. I decided it was best I didn’t call you. I mean, we broke up because I didn’t know how to include you in my life the way you deserve.”

Sliding your hand across the table, you let your finger tips brush against his hand. Instantly he held your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles lovingly. Tears welled in your eyes. You’d waited for so long for Toru to finally see you completely and acknowledge what it was that he spent so many years of your youth apologizing for.

“Not having you there with me this past year was so hard. It felt like not breathing. I still love you, (Y/N), and if you can forgive me, I’d really like to make it work this time.”

Nodding your head, you sniffed, a teary but happy smile on you face as you wiped the corners of your eyes. “I love you, Toru. Let’s make it work.”

-

tag list: @hihiq​

#oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyu #volleyboys #the music series #fanfic #reader insert #one shot #imagine #21

[justlookfrightened]

Second part of Neighbors AU, Chapter 9

Read it on AO3

Or, read chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 or 8

Eric pitched in to help Dex fill orders and took turns with Dex making the rounds to wipe the handful of tables and shuttle used dishes to the back.

Finally, at about 1 p.m., the line began to dwindle and and the tables started to empty. Eric looked at the pastry cases with a critical eye.

There were only two quiches left, and half a dozen mini-pies. The muffins looked like they would hold out for the rest of the day, but they were sold out of maple-crusted apple pie. Eric would have to add to what he planned to bake in the morning, and who knew if tomorrow was going to be just as busy? Still, it was a good problem to have..

“I’m not sure what happened today,” Eric said. “Do you think it was all that selfie Derek took with Bob Zimmermann?”

“I don’t know, Bits,” Chowder said, untying is apron. “Who would have thought a picture with our logo in the background would make that much difference? Do you need me to stay and help?”

“No, that’s OK, Chris,” Eric said. “You’ve already stayed late. We’ll take care of it.”

He patted his pocket for his phone -- Bob had said something about getting in touch with the Falconers about that strange tweet -- when he heard it ringing in the kitchen. He must have put it down during the rush. He hustled in to grab it before his voicemail picked up.

“Hello? Matthew? What’s up?”

“Eric -- what’s happening down there? You’re all over Twitter, and you didn’t answer my texts. I didn’t want to call during the rush in case you were busy.”

“Oh, Lord, was there a rush,” Eric said. “It was already busy, then Jack Zimmermann and Alexei Mashkov stopped in, and I guess someone must have posted that, because then it just got crazy.”

“Was Bad Bob there too?” Matthew asked, “Because I think that’s him showing up on Twitter. Was he there over the weekend? Whatever, good job. Keep it up.”

“Uh, thanks, Matthew. I’m gonna have to take a look at what’s going on. I hope it’s nothing, well, nothing that makes anyone look bad?”

“Well, it certainly makes the bakery look good,” Matthew said.

Eric ended the call, then headed back to the register.

“Dex, sweetheart, can you get the dishwasher going?” Eric asked. “I need to take a look at something.”

Then he opened the Twitter app on his phone, closed his eyes, took a breath, opened his eyes and looked at his notifications.

Bless his regulars, several had weighed in on the tweet from @FalcsFanRI, some in praise of the maple-crusted apple pie Eric had suggested, others suggesting their own favorites.

Then @FalcsFanRI had tweeted again, this time with a picture of Eric locking up Sunday afternoon, Bob standing next to him. This one included Eric’s own Twitter handle.

Looks like @bbzimmermann got a private look from @sugarnspice baker @omgcheckplease.

Eric couldn’t help walking to the door and looking out. Where was that picture taken from? And who would care anyway?

Then there were a whole series of tweets about Jack and Tater being there -- several including selfies with Tater -- and at least one picture of Jack coming out of the kitchen carrying his sandwich bag.

@FalcsFanRI had retweeted that with the note, Wonder what Jack Z wanted to talk with @omgcheckplease about?

Eric took screenshots of the new tweets from @FalcsFanRI and texted Jamie.

I don’t know if you’ve seen these, or if you know who this is, but I’m not sure what’s going on. Bob Zimmermann suggested I let you, or someone in PR, know about them.

His phone rang a moment later.

“These just started today?” Jamie was asking as soon as he answered.

“Yes, Jamie, and how are you today?”

“I’m fine, Eric, and I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “We’re not sure who this is -- it looks like they just made their account last week and started following us -- or what they want to accomplish. None of the pictures are from any real private areas, and they don’t show anything except that you know the Zimmermanns. Bob already said he liked your food, so I don’t really get the point. But the tone does feel nasty. Does Jack know?”

“About the first one,” Eric said. “Not about the rest. But don’t tell him before the game tonight. He’s still not on Twitter -- after this, I’m not sure he’s going to want to be.”

**************************

Jack carried his sandwich to the player lounge, poured a cup of water and settled at a table.

He pulled his phone out to text Eric, who was probably up from his own nap now, either headed out for a run or over to Meehan.

Thanks for the sandwich. They always taste better when you make them.

Eric sent back a blushing emoji, then This isn’t just a ploy to get me to make all of them, is it? then a winky face.

I don’t know. Is it working? Jack typed back.

Good luck tonight! Eric texted. I’ll be watching. Call me later if you get a chance.

Jack finished his sandwich with a smile, tucked the note that had been attached into his pocket and cleared the wrapper and cup from the table.

He was still smiling when he pushed the door to the dressing room open. Marty and Guy, who had been looking at something on Marty’s phone, looked up.

“Hey, Jack,” Guy said. “Ready for tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Jack said.

Marty locked his phone and put it on the shelf of his stall.

“Look at you smile,” he said. “I’m guessing Eric made your sandwich? I saw you and Tater were there today.”

Jack thought that might be a chirp, but Marty didn’t seem like he was trying to get a rise out of him, so he just said, “Ouais. The bread from the bakery is good, and he always has the best jam. You saw? From all the selfies Tater took?”

“There were a lot,” Marty agreed.

Jack shook his head.

“He honestly seems to enjoy it,” Jack said.

“What did he get?” Marty asked. “We’re on the road until Saturday. Don’t tell me he went home and ate an entire pie.”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “I think he just got a couple of those little mini-pies they make. You ready?”

“Of course,” Marty said.

If Marty stuck close by Jack while the team finished dressing, well, that was nothing unusual. Jack might wear the C, but Marty had appointed himself Jack’s mentor and guardian when Jack came into the league, and he was still a close friend. They went out for warmups, came back for final strategy and took the ice for the anthem.

The game was hard-fought and fast, but mostly clean, and ended in a 4-2 win over the Sabres. Jack thought he played pretty well, saw the ice and could envision the play developing. Even so, he couldn’t help but think that there was something going on just beyond the edges of his awareness.

Jack showered and dressed and grabbed his bag, planning to call Eric before he boarded the team bus for the airport. He’d just left the dressing room when Poots appeared at his shoulder.

“Is Eric OK?” he asked.

Jack stopped walking.

“He was when I saw him after morning skate,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“There’s just this stuff on Twitter,” Poots said. “With him and your dad? I guess they hit it off. Anyway, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Show me,” Jack said.

Poots opened his phone and pulled up the tweets involving Eric and Bob. He saw the first one, the one Eric had sent him, and Eric’s thoroughly professional response. Then the picture of Eric and Bob leaving the bakery, which somehow, he thought, made it look like they’d been doing something clandestine instead of prep work for a whole lot of baked goods.

That had been retweeted along with lots of snide remarks about Bob and getting his sugar fix and kneading buns. Jack felt his stomach twist a little. Not because he thought there was anything … untoward between Eric and his dad, not for a second. It was just so unfair that both of them, honestly two of the best men he knew, should be the subject of such speculation.

“Thanks,” he said, thrusting the phone back into Poots’ hands and stalking off to find a quiet corner.

As soon as he thought he was out of earshot of anyone, he touched Eric’s contact button and waited for him to pick up.

“Hi, honey! Great game!” Eric said in a slightly too bright tone.

“Eric, what’s going on?” Jack asked.

***************

Eric took a deep breath.

“I'm not sure, exactly,” Eric said. “With the posts I mean. It's like someone is determined to make something out of nothing, and I can't for the life of me figure out why.”

“But my dad?” Jack sounded kind of strangled.

“Oh, honey, you know that there’s nothing going on between me and your dad, besides him being nice and trying to get to know his son’s boyfriend, right?” Eric couldn’t believe he had to even say the words. The whole thing was ludicrous. How could Jack think such a thing about either one of them?

“No, no, no,” Jack was saying, like his mind had just caught up with Eric’s words. “Not that. Mon dieu, not that. But we’ve spent time together in public. We’ve gone for runs, we’ve gone to restaurants, we’ve gone grocery shopping. Why pick up on you being seen with my dad? If it had to be someone, why not, I don’t know, Tater? He’s at the bakery almost as much as me, and he’s not married.”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “What does your dad think? I guess if anyone has a right to be angry, it would be him and your mom.”

“You too,” Jack said. “Some of the things they were implying about you --”

“What, that I’m some kind of sugar baby?” Eric snorted. “I think most of them were just playing on me being a baker. I mean, your dad’s kind of old for me, I know, but if he wasn’t married and I wasn’t dating the attractive Zimmermann, I’d at least meet him for a cup of coffee.”

Jack groaned.

“OK, OK, I’m kidding,” Eric said. “And we both know your dad would never have looked at me twice if I wasn’t dating you.”

“Well, maybe to get a recipe,” Jack acknowledged, the beginnings of a grin quirking his lips.

“How long before you have to leave?” Eric asked.

“They’re starting to get on the bus now,” Jack said.

“Then let me call your dad and find out what he thinks,” Eric said. “Call me when you land and I’ll tell you if we’ve come up with anything.”

“Eric, that’ll be after midnight,” Jack said. “You have to sleep. Go ahead and call my dad if you want, but tell him I’ll call him when we get in to Charlotte. Then I’ll call you when I get up, OK? But please get some rest. You’re already up late.”

“Aww, you worry about me,” Eric said.

“I just know proper rest is important,” Jack said. “Talk to you in the morning?”

Eric ended the call and scrolled through his contacts to find Bob’s number.

Bob answered on the first ring.

“Eric! You’re still up,” he said. “I didn’t want to call during the game, and then I was afraid I’d wake you.”

“No, sir,” Eric said. “I just got off the phone with Jack. He, uh, might be calling you after they land in Charlotte? He didn’t want to call me then because he said I should be sleeping.”

Bob sighed.

“That’s Jack,” he said. “And he’s right, of course.”

“Of course,” Eric said. “Have you been following all this?”

“Well, I stopped looking at my mentions a while ago, but in general, yes,” Bob said.

“So what do we do?” Eric said.

“For now, ignore it,” Bob said. “I don’t know why anyone would find it interesting that we know each other; it seems to be pretty common knowledge that the Falconers like your bakery. There’s nothing we can really do, anyway -- the photos are pretty public and no one’s making any threats and any reaction looks like overreaction to the innuendo. How’s Jack taking it?”

“Not as badly as I thought he might,” Eric said. “But he’s upset about the disrespect to you and Alicia.”

“And you, too, I’d think,” Bob said. “We’re fine, really. Compared to when Alicia and I first got together? This is nothing. But I suppose Jack doesn’t really know about that. It had mostly blown over by the time he came along, and we didn’t talk about it much afterward. When he had his problems --”

“He told me about his overdose.”

“Yes, well, that was a different kind of thing. I mean, it was nothing we could laugh at, and in a way, this is, because we all know the truth. What does PR say?”

“Pretty much the same thing: ‘Don’t feed the trolls,’” Eric said. “Jamie did say she’d find out what she could about the account that started it all.”

“Then relax, Eric,” Bob said. “Jack’s right. Go to bed. Go to sleep. See what tomorrow brings.”

***************************************

“Salut, Jack.”

“Were you waiting up for me to call?” Jack said. “We just got into the hotel.”

“Well, yes,” Bob said. “I was going to give you another half-hour before I turned in. Eric seemed to think you were worried that this would be a problem for me and your mother.”

“It’s just not fair,” Jack said. “Eric’s my boyfriend --”

“I think we -- by which I mean, everyone who knows both you and Eric -- is pretty clear on that,” Bob said mildly.

“No, not like that, it’s just unfair that you and Maman get dragged into it,” Jack said. “That people would imply that you’re having an affair with a 23-year-old kid --”

“Don’t let Eric hear you say that,” Bob said.

“I’m 28. Not 60,” Jack said.

“I feel like I should be wounded,” Bob said. “But you’re right, of course. I would feel like a creep if I was looking to date someone that much younger. As it happens, though, it’s not the first time people bent on malicious gossip have cast aspersions on my relationship with your mother. A lot of people -- mostly her fans, to be honest -- couldn’t believe that she’d date a lowly hockey player and thought it was all a stunt. But there were a few people who couldn’t believe I was interested in her, either.”

“How’d you get through it?”

“Ignored it, mostly,” Bob said. “There were a couple of really persistent people that we had to get lawyers involved for, but for most people, once it became clear that we were really together, they gave up or moved on. I know that even when you were growing up, we -- all of us -- got more attention than maybe was healthy, but I guess it didn’t seem so bad to me because it was better than what happened when we were dating.”

“So I don’t do -- what do you call it, Twitter -- but Eric seems to think this is strange, but mostly harmless,” Jack said.

“What I’ve seen would fall into that category,” Bob said. “Eric and I could probably go after some of the people who were tweeting for defamation, but that would just blow it up, and the tweets that started it all skirt the line. The question is where it goes from here. If Deadspin or TMZ get hold of it, well, it could get nasty. But I’m not sure they care about a retired hockey player and a baker from Providence, no matter how cute he is.”

Jack snorted. “Retired hockey player, right.”

He paused for a moment.

“Is this what it’s going to be like when people find out about me and Eric?” he said.

“No,” Bob said. “As much as I’d like to make you feel better, it will be worse. Because everyone -- from TMZ and Deadspin to more reputable outlets like ESPN and Outsports -- are going to have something to say about the first out player in the NHL, and they’re all going to want a piece of the story, and for a good while, it’s going to feel like they want a piece of you.”

“And a piece of Eric.”

“Yes, and a piece of Eric.”

Jack took a moment to focus on his breathing, and his father spoke again.

“For what it’s worth, he really is a remarkable young man,” Bob said. “I know you’re just getting used to each other, and maybe this isn’t something you would be thinking about yet if it wasn’t for this little tempest in a teapot, but don’t get ahead of yourself, and talk to Eric. That’s the biggest thing. You aren’t going through this alone, so don’t act like you are.”

“But Eric wouldn’t be involved in this at all if it wasn’t for me,” Jack said.

“And you wouldn’t be involved in it if it wasn’t for him, mon fils,” Bob replied.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Jack said.

“No, of course you aren’t,” Bob said. “And you don’t have to convince anyone of that. Now, it’s very late, and even though I don’t have a game tomorrow, I need to sleep. I imagine you need to sleep even more. Will you be able to rest?”

“I think so,” Jack said. “Je t’aime, Papa.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” Bob said. “Tell Eric I said hello when you talk to him in the morning.”

*****************************

Eric made it through the morning rush with the help of three strong cups of coffee and determination that he wasn’t going to let a Twitter troll affect his job.

He’d found it hard to sleep, and woke to check his Twitter accounts at midnight and again at 2 a.m. There wasn’t much more than there had been the day before: a few jokes about Bad Bob Zimmermann robbing the cradle (he was an adult, thank you very much!) but nothing too threatening or mean-spirited. There were also lots of tweets from customers of Sugar ‘n’ Spice defending both his character and his baked goods.

@bbzimmermann has probably just fallen in love with the mini pies, one said. I did!

Another said, Why wouldn’t @bbzimmermann go to the best bakery in Providence when he’s in town? And @omgcheckplease would be fun to watch a game with!

Those made Eric smile. The ones that were a little more, well, personal (I’d make a play for @omgcheckplease if he swung my way! He looks delicious!) made him squirm a bit, but it was hard to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t seem encouraging, or overreacting, or something. So he ignored them.

On the upside, Sugar ‘n’ Spice had gained over a hundred new followers; @omgcheckplease had a few dozen more. So there was that.

The morning rush was busier than usual, but nothing like lunch had been the day before. Jack texted when he got up that he’d call after morning skate, when he had more time and the bakery should be quieter. Jamie called shortly after nine, and Eric called her back once he had the dishes washing and he could sit in the back and talk.

“We still don’t know who FalcsFanRI is,” she said, “but it looks like their IP address is in Boston.”

“Boston?”

“Yeah, go figure,” she said. “Anyway, like I said, the account’s relatively new, and they hadn’t put much of anything up until yesterday. They liked and retweeted some of our stuff, a couple of other tweets about the team, but nothing personal. They follow you too, both omgcheckplease and the bakery.”

“OK,” Eric said. “I don’t know who it could be. I’ll think about it. Any advice about responding?”

“I don’t think we should respond directly, but I was thinking about maybe posting a pic of you and both Zimmermanns from the game, something about how the Falcs enjoy it when their families can come and support them? I don’t think we’d have to identify you at this point. But would you mind if we did, if someone asks?”

“No, that’s fine,” Eric said. “After this whole thing I’d think anyone who was paying attention knows who I am. I’ll tweet like usual -- the lunch special, stuff like that. Nothing about hockey.”

“OK. I’ll run that by George, but expect us to do that,” Jamie said. “I’ll check in with you again tomorrow about this time, if nothing blows up today. And you can call me anytime if you need to. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, thanks for all your help, Jamie,” Eric said. “I guess I don’t understand why anyone cares.”

Eric had finished restocking the cases for lunchtime -- and noting that the bakery hadn’t been empty at all during the morning -- when his phone rang again.

“I’m going to take this in the back, Chowder,” Eric said before answering.

He waited until he was through the kitchen door before connecting the call.

“Jack! You doing OK?”

“Ouais, I’m fine, Eric,” Jack said. “The question is, how are you? No more weird tweets?”

“Not yet,” Eric said. “Nothing new, at least. Jamie said she’s going to post a picture of me with both your parents from the game, as long as it’s OK with your dad. But it’s been quiet so far. I was just about to tweet something about our specials before lunchtime.”

“And you’re really OK?” Jack said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, really, Jack, I’m fine,” Eric said. “I mean, I told my vlog subscribers I was gay before I told anyone else, so maybe I’m used to communicating with people I don’t know in real life.”

“You seemed upset yesterday,” Jack said.

Good Lord, Eric thought. Why was he being so persistent?

“I was, a bit,” he allowed. “It was just strange, having people say things -- or at least speculate about things -- about that weren’t true. When I came out on my vlog, I only had a couple of hundred subscribers, and I’m sure most of them already assumed I was gay before I said anything, and no one else who might have seen it really cared at all whether I was gay or not. What was different, I guess, was having strangers act like they had an interest, and to have them doing it at your dad’s expense, well, that rubbed me the wrong way. But your dad seemed pretty calm about it last night.”

“Yeah, when I talked to him he said he’d been through worse,” Jack said. “But he also said that if people find out about us, it’s going to be worse.”

“But it’ll at least be true,” Eric said.

Jack snorted. “Depends on what they say.”

“Jack, honey, I can’t pretend that I’m looking forward to all the talk,” Eric said. “And I know if we keep spending so much time together, there will be talk. But let’s not borrow trouble before we have to.”

“Maybe it’s good that I’m on the road now, eh?” Jack said. “Give things time to calm down?”

“Hush,” Eric said. “I’d always rather be able to see you.”

#my fic #zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #neighbors au