dreamscape

genevieve zacharie: devery jacobs, 28, bookstore clerk -> tag | intro

victor kavari: sendhil ramamurthy, 50, investigative journalist -> tag | intro

Ingrid strolled into the store doing her very best to contain her excitement. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the new section of the store, but her smile fell by a margin when she failed to see the title she was looking for.

“Do you, by chance, have the new edition of the history of reptilians? Esther Stein is the author. I’ve been waiting to add it to my collection since she announced it,” Ingrid explained with the same level of excitement a child might have stepping into a toy store.

“Freddie will like seeing the pictures too.” That was more of a projection than fact as Freddie was a snake and didn’t care in the least about the images printed ink on paper made. He wanted to bask in his heat lamp and occasionally eat, but Ingrid liked to take him out of his enclosure sometimes and let him wind and curl around her arm and hand.

“That doesn’t ring any bells,” Genevieve answered with a shake of her head. “Though that doesn’t mean that we don’t carry it.” Gen typically restocked the shelves in the afternoon after the shop closed, but that wasn’t a hard and fast rule; likewise, while their deliveries were usually on a consistent schedule, delays happened. “There are a few boxes in the back that I haven’t gotten to as yet.” 

She set down the pile of books she’d been reorganized, and gestured towards the counter. “Tell you what: if you leave your name and number, I’d be happy to keep an eye out for it and let you know as soon as it arrives.” When she arrived at the counter, Gen leaned over and grabbed a piece of paper (a discarded receipt, it seemed) and a pen, sliding it over to the patron. “In the mean time, is there anything else I can help with?” 

Piper grinned as she made her way inside Hideaway Bookstore, more so with the chance to see her friend over the books, though she may pick up something while she was there. She’d seen an interesting book the last time she was in. Spotting her friend she leaned against the bookshelf she was working on. “Anything good come in? Maybe a pirate adventure or a good…what was that trope everyone likes? Enemies to lovers?” She holds out a To-Go cup to her friend. “I brought you favorite, and a little lunch if you have some time” 

“I feel like enemies to lovers is all I’m seeing nowadays,” Gen replied with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. It was a good trope, there was no denying that, and it was a guilty pleasure for so many, but it seemed as if booktok had suddenly reminded everyone that the trope existed. Now, she couldn’t shelf a book without running into an enemies to lovers plotline. “If you head over the the YA section, it’s all the books that look the same. I know I’m not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but they legit all look alike. Like they were mass produced in some factory,” she complained as she reached over and accepted the cup with a grateful huff. “I’ve always got time for you, and I’m due a lunch break any second now.” 

He chuckled at her mention that of swearing less. Romeo didn’t care, he swore too much in the kitchen anyways. Gen knew that. He nodded and offered her a small smile. “We did make a mess.” He chuckled. 

The chef sighed and shook his head. “Do you… Do you wanna walk with me?” He asked her after a moment. “I’ve got the day off.. I’ve been just trying to clear my head, come up with some new ideas for the menu.” He admitted. 

Romeo figured she wouldn’t wanna talk about work so he brought up the next worst thing… At least, he realized that after he blurted it out. “So, my sisters asked about you a few weeks ago.” He chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. He already had his foot in his mouth. “I mean… It’s just… I had nothing to tell them and well, they uh… They want to come visit. I told them I’d text you and ask if you wanted to grab dinner with them.” He told her, shaking his head. Romeo held up his hand and raised his brows. “I swear… You can tell ‘em to bugger off, they can get mad all they want but I’m not gonna subject you to that if you don’t wanna see ‘em.” He told her honestly. 

His sisters were great but highly unpredictable and he was always outnumbered. It was a battle he would always lose. 

A small part of her was surprised by how easily he’d agreed. They had made a mess and she’d give almost anything to get back that feeling of easiness again. “Umm... yeah,” she replied, nodding slightly. “I don’t have a long time, but a walk sounds nice.” It wasn’t as if she’d had plans for how she was going to spend her lunch break. At least, her plans hadn’t extended passed people watching and maybe a bit of sketching, but both of those things could wait for another day. 

“Are you trying to stick to a particular theme or kind of just seeing where the ideas lead?” Genevieve didn’t know much about cooking especially not when compared to Romeo, but food was like art, she figured, in that they both required some spark of inspiration and some level of creativity. “I know that when I’m stuck, I sort of just throw ideas at a page and see what sticks.” She offered a small shrugged as she stood and returned her small notebook to the back pocket of her jeans where it usually lived. “Maybe inspiration will strike on our walk,” she continued with a hopeful smile. 

His next words caused Gen to pause mid-step. “You’d be okay with that? If I went to dinner with your sisters?” She wasn’t sure what the parameters were of their new unattached status, but she’d assumed that when they’d broken up, she’d lost all access to his family as well. "Of course I want to see them. If you’re okay with it, I’m happy to hang with the girls,  but if the idea of it makes you feel uncomfortable or weird, I get it.” 

Romeo’s mouth opened and then closed. Twice. He swallowed quickly and pulled his hood off his head and sighed. “Genevieve…Hey.. Uh.. I’ll go.” He told her. This was the right thing to do. He should leave. He wasn’t in her life anymore and why should he get in her way anymore. The chef turned to go and took two steps before quickly turning around. He reached his hand up towards her, pointing at her slowly and then pulled his hand away. He got could do this. Romeo sighed again. “Look. Shit. I hope you’re doing good. You look nice and I bet… I bet things are good.” He paused to let out some more air. He knew he was absolutely embarrassing himself but he didn’t care. He couldn’t help it.  “I’ve thought about calling. I mean… I typed out the number, the messages… But uh… I just write it down in this bloody notebook instead.” He shrugged. Romeo pulled his hands into his pockets so he would refrain from overdoing it. “My therapist told me it’d be a good idea.” He admitted. He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, one of the guys at the restaurant recommended ‘em. Said they were really good.”  He couldn’t believe he was telling her all this. It wouldn’t fix anything. “I just wanna say though… I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times… I’ll say it a hundred more.” Romeo stated, pressing his mouth into a flat line. He wasn’t even sure Gen would reply. Maybe she’d tell him to fuck off so he wouldn’t have to imagine a world where things might one day go back to where they were. Romeo started to wish his parents didn’t drill being a hopeless romantic into him for this very reason. Heartbreak. 

Genevieve. It was strange to hear her full name falling from his lips. She’d always been Gen with people she was most comfortable with -- it was familiar, safe -- and there was no one who had made her feel those things more than Romeo. If anything, her name was a subtle reminder of the distance that was between them now. She’d done that, Gen thought. Sure, she hadn’t been ready to get married, but she wasn’t sure that she’d been ready to live life without him completely. Though there was hardly anything she could do about that now. Time had passed, and they’d both clearly moved on.

She was in the middle of an attempt to tell him to stay, that she didn’t mind having him around, when he spoke again, and all Gen could do was wait and listen as the words poured out of him. “Listen,” she started, when it looked as if he’d taken a break. “I’m proud of you. Therapy’s a real big fucking deal.” Her lips twisted at the curse. “Sorry, trying to swear less, but I’m failing miserably.” She felt her cheeks heat at that.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. Not then. Not now. Things just didn’t work out for us.” It had taken her a long time to come to that conclusion. For so long, she’d been furious at him. Mostly because that was easier than admitting the role she’d played in the ending of their relationship. Then, she’d spent some time angry at herself, unable to keep denying it. Now, though, she just felt sad whenever she thought about him. Romeo was like a toothache. She could ignore her feelings about how things had gone down for the most part, but every now and then, she’d poke at them and the ache would flare up all over again. “We really made a mess, didn’t we?”

Victor felt as if he hadn’t seen his husband in days. That was nothing new for them — Jin was an ER doctor and Victor was often out pursuing some lead; their schedules frequently ran parallel to one another. Early in his career, Victor had decided that if he was to have any hopes of being a Pulitzer awarded journalist, there were things he’d have to sacrifice; days off just happened to be one of those things. In fact, Victor couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually taken a day off. Not even when he’d transitioned to being his own boss. It was for that reason that Vic found himself arranging what he could only hope counted as a passable breakfast in bed for Jin. He took a few more minutes to ensure that everything was perfect before walking it to their room and settling it down on the bed beside Jin. Looking into his eyes, Victor saw the same person he’d fallen in love with all those years ago when they’d both been young and life had help so much promise. “I figured,” he began, “since I’m my own boss nowadays, that maybe we could spend some time together. That is, if you can spare a few hours. I know your job needs you.”

{  OLIVER STARK | 33 | CISGENDER MAN ﹜  welcome to san  francisco, WYATT KEATING! just to make sure, you go by HE/HIM, right?  okay, great. i just have a few questions for you before i can let you  go..  how long have you been here for? SIX YEARS. where are you  currently living? NOE VALLEY. what’s your current occupation? MIDFIELDER at/of LA GALAXY but what’s your dream  occupation? MIDFIELDER FOR REAL MADRID. wow! interesting. is  there a secret that we can keep between you and i? HE RECENTLY FOUND OUT THAT HE HAS A CHILD AND HE’S FOUND HIMSELF TEMPTED TO IGNORE THIS NEW REVELATION MORE FREQUENTLY THAN HE’D LIKE TO ADMIT. lastly, this is a bit of a random question but …  what’s your favorite song? BAD HABITS by ED SHEERAN & that’s all  they wrote, friend! we can’t wait to see you around the golden city!  

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 ‎   Savannah had the time to run a few errands before picking up her youngest and the collection of books waiting to be donated in the trunk of her car was one of them. It was the one that took the least motivation too. Being a regular, or as regular as she could, she was always looking for an excuse to browse the shelves and find something new although as of recent it was more for her. Unfortunately, books were not as cool as they once were according to a ten-year-old boy.

“Busy day?” Savannah asks. Reusing the same bag she had bought the books in previously, she one by one picks them out and places them on corner of the counter in two piles — one for adults and and one for children. “By the way… your recommendations last time were all winners. I have to admit that my favorite was the The Chestnut Man so if there’s anything along the same creepy Scandinavian vein please point me in the right direction.”

“More or less,” Gen replied easily. She’d been in the middle of shelving, but she would always prioritize conversations with customers, especially regulars. That was how small bookstores stayed alive in the face of chain dominance -- by word of mouth and the cultivation of an environment that encouraged customers to return. Gen watched as Savannah piled the books she’d donated unto the shelf. “Looks like the gently loved section’s about to gain a few new additions,” she noted, running her fingertips down the spines of the books. “I’m still working on the name of that, but you get the idea.” 

“Best book I’ve read all year.” Genevieve wasn’t exaggerating. There was something magical about Sveistrup’s command of language. Perhaps, magical wasn’t quite the right word for the spine tingling sensation she’d had while reading the novel, but if there was a more apt word, it wasn’t yet a part of Gen’s vocabulary. “There’s a netflix series, if you’re interested,” she offered. “Not nearly as complex as the novel, but when are adaptations?” As usual, Gen was happy that she’d read the book before watching the show. “I can’t say that I’m up to date on my Scandinavian thrillers, but I think you’ll enjoy Girl, Forgotten. It explores a decades old cold case.”

“Okay,” Gen began without preamble. She swiped a hand across her face, smearing black smudges across her cheeks. As usual, she’d spent the first few hours of her day off sketching which meant that her fingers were now black with the remnants of the pencil she’d been using. Not that that bothered her. Gen wasn’t sure she could remember a day that she wasn’t sporting some sort of art material. “I’m thinking of dyeing my hair pink. I think you should join me. We can convince the others. Make it an apartment wide thing.  You know, like community bonding. Think how cute we’d all be.” So waved her hand as if it was the simplest request on the planet. “So, you game?”