la vie boheme!

STARRING!

robin shrike: intro. connections. musings. mirror. threads.

soren thompson: intro. doc. connections. musings. mirror. threads.

“You went quiet,” It’d been almost an hour since Leo had strewn Ducky across his own bed, cutting past the formalities that Ducky always insisted upon. As if Leo wasn’t already endeared. As if Ducky didn’t already make them feel so fond. Leo had been surprised when he’d first allowed them to come by his trailer, passing by there themself in the past as a customer, and now enjoying the space as a lover. Ducky had been casual in his reasoning, saying he never got the place to himself and wanted to take advantage of it while his brother was away ‘on business’, and it just simply wasn’t worth deliberating over to Leo. They often looked a gift horse in the mouth, but this wasn’t an opportunity he wanted to pass by, not in the slightest. They could take their time with each other now. But it’d been an hour - and Ducky had been making the prettiest noises earlier while Leo lazily palmed where he was half hard, until they’d simply stopped. “You freak me out when you go mute. I can’t read your mind - most people I’m always like. Well hello, Obviously Ollie. But you’re still, like. Sexy and mysterious. I can’t tell what’s going on in that - fuckin’ wrinkly brain of yours. Lots of folds in it for all those thoughts I can’t interpret.” Languidly - lovingly - they pressed another careful kiss to Ducky’s mouth. Leo wasn’t used to being tepid with the people they were seeing, just as patient and willingly so with others he kept close to his heart, but never this cautious. They never needed or wanted to be, never saw the point in it. Until they did - until Ducky. Leo brushed their hand up his pelvis, pressing it against the soft flesh of his underbelly, just so that they could pinch at it in a fistful. Nothing painful or aggressive - just squeezing, an act of aggression led by their affection. 

“I’m making a new rule.” They didn’t have rules between them to begin with. “You’re not allowed to invite me over anymore and then get all shy - I wanna fuck you, and I wanna be loud. My aunt and uncle aren’t here, your brother isn’t here. It’s just us. I wanna make you cry -.” There were a thousand more things Leo wanted to say, prepared to wax poetic in the name of suggesting Ducky finally sit on their face like they’d been wanting to ask him to do for weeks now - but they never got the chance to do so. Tragic, and then terrifying. Watching Ducky’s face shift in real time, as they both heard the shitty screen door at the front of his trailer slam open, the threatening clomp of steel toed boots stumbling in drunkenly, shouting out for the man beneath Leo. “Where’s our ugly duckling? Your daddy called earlier - he’s got some fuckin’ words for you, man!” There were multiple people in the trailer now - gruff voices talking amongst themselves, slamming through cupboards in search of cups, liquor. Ducky had gone so pale that Leo momentarily worried that he’d pass out. It wasn’t completely off the table. “Hey,” they whispered, still straddling him, still pinning him to the bed - unsure of what to do, eventually shifting when Ducky kept squirming anxiously under them, “is this - like, bad?” Probably a stupid question, but they didn’t know what to do with the panic on Ducky’s features now. In the background, a glass broke and Leo watched uselessly as Ducky flinched at the noise, people laughing at whatever damage had been done. And amongst it all, Leo still didn’t understand that this was a life or death situation for him. “Why’re you so scared? We can -.” They both shut up with a harsh gasp, when the doorknob to Ducky’s room rattled, violent and demanding. People trying to bust in - trying to invade their space. Their space - Leo had been so excited about tonight. Now, they just ached, watching Ducky fluster and try to figure out what to do. “Why’re you -,” Cutting himself off before asking the same question again, incapable of seeing past how fucking horrified Ducky was, “if you want… I mean, I don’t give a fuck - Ducky, I’ll get rid of them. Do you want me to tell them to fuck off? I’ll just tell them that I was, like, buying off you or some shit, just - can you blink? Or breathe? Why is your face like that?”

There were several times in Zak’s life that they requested second chances. It didn’t feel right to say that they asked for them - often, they felt too guilty or shy to ever ask for something. When they wanted, it turned into a gut deep yearning. A desire for family, love, acknowledgement. But they could request. They could resort to something docile and polite, as they usually became in the face of their needs. Zak lived under the understanding that as long as they gave what they could, it wasn’t improper of them to want, even if nothing came of it. And most of the time, nothing did - it was a broad ache that they’d frankly grown comfortable with, allowing small pieces of their core to be gnawed on in replacement of succumbing to whatever tragedies could claim the entirety of their psyche if they allowed it to. They were familiar with loss, so they silently requested second chances, and in turn celebrated the small wins. Sitting with Leo in her room while the ‘house warming’ party rumbled around them felt bigger than that - but Zak was still teetering on the edge with her, simply grateful that she was allowing him a breather amongst the chaos. He didn’t particularly understand the point of a housewarming party almost a year after they’d all come back to New York, but he supposed he was one of the only tried and true New York residents amongst the crowd in this home, including the three people who lived there. It took more than a year for the excitement to become less than novel - even if some of them had been there for a few years prior, moving for school. This was inherently different. Zak and Leo were inherently different because of their time abroad. Everything changed, and he enjoyed the idea of celebrating it instead of experiencing that dread of wondering if he’d ever get to be around Leo like that ever again. 

Even now, as she sat pristinely on the edge of her bed, mouth in a firm line, Zak couldn’t help but grin. “Promise I’m not gonna just start smoking in the middle of your room. I know your rules, still respect ‘em,” he said lazily, already a bit high and tipsy just off the shot he’d been forced into upon entering the party and beer he was still currently nursing. Zak licked up the side of the rolling paper he was using for his joint before sealing it shut, tucking it behind his ear, and eventually returning their gaze to Leo to give her that same dopey smile. She’d said something before about how she couldn’t stay in here forever, that her phone was the one being used on AUX for the party playlist, but she didn’t seem like she was in such a rush now, slowly relaxing into the comfort of her own space. They missed when it’d used to be their space - when they were roommates and it’d been easier to simply sleep in the same bed because of every excuse in the book other than to admit it was because they didn’t want to be without each other. “Alright,” A low grumble as they finally clambered to a stand from where they’d been cross-legged moments ago on the floor in front of Leo, shuffling to situate himself beside her, “where can I sneak out unseen to smoke this? I don’t feel like going downstairs yet. And I want your company - that’s… it feels nonnegotiable. It’d -,” They stumbled over their words, wondering how bold they could be, given the tentative nature of their relationship, “be rude. To leave your guests lonely, or whatever. And you’re a good host, so. Yeah.” Mostly, Zak really wanted to hold Leo’s hand. It felt so childish, everything considered - but they couldn’t stop glancing down at where hers were folded together, as if meaning to entertain each other, keep themselves busy. He had to eventually lean back, hoist his weight up with his elbows now, attempting to feign nonchalance when they were still aiming for perfection in the hopes of winning Leo’s favour again. “Unless - if you’re having fun, I’d go back down with you. Do whatever you want, just let me know.” A testament to their entire dynamic.

There were a hundred things Soren could have said the first time he saw Leo in her regal attire. You look beautiful - because she did, with her braided hair and gown that cinched where it was meant to, the burgundy complimenting her perfectly. How do you feel? - it was fun, the situation they were in, but a bit awkward at that. Or maybe that was just Soren - he didn’t love people gowning him, tugging at his unruly curls and working product into it, slathering creams across his face as if he were suddenly desecrating on the spot and every moisturizer under the sun was the only thing stopping him from wilting away. Wanna go for a smoke? - Leo would scoff at him, and then lecture, again, about how he would die in the next ten years from how much he smoked. But she would have appreciated the excuse to take a breather away from everyone else. Instead, Soren had taken in the sight of her and blurted, “Oh my god, you look like a girl.” A bit mean, the way an older brother was, but that was how Soren viewed her at this point. His baby sister, suddenly and undeniably beautiful, in a way that he couldn’t bat around. Momentarily, he wished they were kids again. He wanted her to be 10, unruly and snapping at him the way she still continued to do to this day, but he longed for the novelty of her attitude. Distantly, Soren recognized that he always ached for their youth when he saw Leo in a different light, because it felt wrong to experience anything new without Reese. But where his brother had carved something ugly and brutal in his trust, Leona had repatched it - it only felt right that Soren bullied her as much as he could, the way any sibling would. “Christ, shut the fuck up,” He immediately blurted, before Leo could even open her mouth - he could read her too well at this point. Soren knew she was ready to snip at him.  He’d shown up late, and when they’d been asked to take a before picture together to compare to the after in their full get ups, he’d been less than cooperative. Cackling under his breath as he continued to present the shocker in one picture, before giving Leo bunny ears in the next. The photographer had eventually smiled commiseratingly at Leona, frustration at the corners of their mouth, before saying they could take a break. They didn’t actually return. Soren had taken it in stride when Leo had reamed him out for it earlier, telling her to relax, to have fun. It didn’t seem like she took his advice in stride. “Come here,” A small demand, holding a hand out towards her from where he sat on the couch in whatever back room of Caesar Hall they’d made up to be a costume area. He was fitted with a cream blouse, donning a cloak that matched the burgundy of Leo’s dress. Their outfits complimented each other perfectly. It was like wearing a Halloween costume - the only difference was that actual care had been done to his hair. Coarse curls had been tamed into something of noble standard, straightened and then moulded into waves. It didn’t really look like him, but Soren supposed that was the whole point. It took a while for Leo to shuffle forward, but once she did, he first pinched at her wrist - barking over her at her immediate protest, “Don’t be a fucking asshole, I wasn’t even that late!” He didn’t even hear what she was yelling at him, as he was sure she wasn’t listening to him. Their voices reverberated through the room, and Soren could only imagine that anyone outside the door could hear them in all of their hooting and hollering glory. And then - he was over it, got what he needed off his chest, instead continuing to tug Leo by her hand until she settled on the couch beside him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting their temples together. Both staring off into the distance, a comfortable moment of dissociation, before returning to their bodies, “My safe word if I wanna fuckin’ ditch this shit is, uh - tequila,” he had a flask of it in the pocket of his ridiculous get up, “what’s yours?"

The last time that they’d spoken, they’d both been a lot more loose. Not just with their tongues, alcohol and pills respectively making them a bit more harebrained, a bit less careful, but with their postures too. Now, Leo clutched onto herself like if she didn’t, she would liquify and spill right out of her form and into the cracks of the floorboard right then and there. She was always elegant, held herself taught and upright so that no one could catch a single flaw in her - but Zak was used to seeing her a bit more lax. When they were at home, splayed on their couch, attempting to crack every corny joke possible because it made them blush just to see her throw her head back and giggle - everything she did used to make them blush. But this wasn’t Leo soothed, or standing tall. This was someone uncertain and distressed at being accosted - just by the very sight of Zak. They wondered if they looked the same in her eyes. Shoulders hunched almost all the way to his ears, elbows tucked in tight to his sides while all but damaging their baseball cap. The two of them must have made a sorry sight. Zak was terrible at this - confrontation. Which, he wasn’t sure if that was even what this was, but it felt like a stand off. Waiting, anticipating, as Leo stared them down after their gentle - cautious - request to enter into her space. Even if she wasn’t a permanent resident there, it was still her space, her home. Zak knew they weren’t particularly welcome, even though her home used to be theirs too. It would have been funny, if it didn’t hurt so much.

They bypassed relief at her permission and skipped straight to their own version of discomfort. Watching as she pressed herself against the wall of the front entrance so that he could help himself into the house. He’d only been here once to pick her up for a date, before she’d actually moved in, and he’d never made it past where he was standing currently. Now, Zak felt like an unwanted intruder - a pest that someone humoured to make their time spent together pass by as quickly as possible. Realistically, that was exactly what was happening. But they’d been the one to push, so all they could do was flash her a gentle, albeit awkward, grin and a soft, “Thanks,” before shuffling through the front hallway, following her directions. As promised, his things were resting on the kitchen counter - it ached like purposely pressing on a blooming bruise. A t-shirt, a sketch they’d done of her - a waterlogged picture of his baby sister. Zak had panicked when he’d managed to knock his wallet into the sink while doing dishes, all those months ago, watching the image furl at the edges. Leo had simply taken it and dried it off as lightly as possible, preserving it as best she could. Still a bit damaged, but far from completely ruined. He’d only really trusted her with the picture after that - it felt inappropriate now, even though his trust hadn’t faded. Not completely. Zak flinched slightly, remembering how he’d spoken to her at the rave, over text. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever spoken to anyone like that, and certainly not to anyone they loved.

Filling up their glass in the sink, Zak set the cup down on the counter, flexing their fingers slowly when they realized they were slightly shaken up. They hated silence - especially one this charged, but it probably wouldn’t help to speak up. Conversation didn’t exactly seem to be on the table as far as Leona was concerned, and he couldn’t blame her. But a framed picture resting a few inches away from the edge of the sink caught their eye, leaning in to get a closer glimpse when they immediately recognized the little girl in the middle. A boy on either side of her, one clearly Soren, somewhat baby-faced and flipping the camera off, and another that Zak wasn’t familiar with. But the girl was so obviously Leona, so young and in braided pigtails - probably the most cherubic they’d ever seen her. It made him smile fondly despite himself, incapable of stopping his tongue when he turned and called to her over his shoulder, “Braided pigtails, huh? It’s - you look… it’s… sweet. How old are you here?” When she finally made her way into the kitchen, Zak waved the picture he was talking about. As if it were a white flag - they hoped it didn’t show on their face how desperate they were to hear her voice speak in a tone that didn’t insinuate hurt, or malice. They might’ve gotten a bit more lucky if they started with an apology, but Leo didn’t always respond well to those. Always on guard, always suspecting people had ulterior motives with their kindness. Zak hadn’t helped with that lately - but it’d probably set Leo right off if he told her it’d kept him up at night since they last spoke. Baby steps.