Delicate

      “ Merlot, large. ” Lucie ordered from the bar of the pub she had just entered. 

      Yet another audition that she had been cut from, right at the very last round. It felt as though every time she took a step forward, she was always thrown ten steps backwards. She had been back in London for six months now and she still wasn’t any closer to landing a role. 

      Of course, she could always take the easy way out again. Spend another year working abroad, performing every night, but of course she would be right back here where she was on her return. There had to be a part for her somewhere. She just needed to find it. 

The blonde had never been one to pry when she valued her own privacy so much ( almost a decade of having her movements broadcast over various gossip sites had ensured that she would never take it for granted ) but something about the brunette’s entrance made her think that she might need someone to talk to. Or even just someone to listen. Her gaze drifted over her, but it was less for the spectacle and more out of concern. She cleared her throat softly, hoping to get the other woman’s attention without startling her. “I can get that if you would like?” Small smile hovered on her lips, tone gentle as she continued. “It seems like you might have had a hard day.”

Atlas had kind of wished he hadn’t taken so long to notice Diana standing in front of him, just because he didn’t want her to think he had been ignoring her or anything. As she spoke, he shook his head and gave a smile back. “Some company sounds nice. I was taking advantage of a break in my writers block, but it’s on a book that I honestly don’t plan to have out anytime soon,” He paused for a moment. “So, long story short, yes, company sounds nice.” As he finished, he laughed a little, gesturing towards the seat across from him. “Are you just having a day out? Or finishing up with some other stuff?” 

Relief washed over her when she realised she wasn’t an imposition, smile brightening as she took the seat opposite him. “Well I’m glad to hear that.” The blonde had listened intently to his answer, nodding slightly before giving him a warm smile. “It sounds like you’re already ahead of the game then.” She’d never been particularly creative so the notion of being able to write a book was completely foreign to her, perhaps why she had such admiration for his talent. “Just a lunch break but I needed a change of scene from deciding which cushions would look best on what sofa.” Wry smile curved up onto her lips, somewhat at her own expense. She loved her job but there were moments it could get mundane. Sip of her coffee was taken before she turn the attention back to him once more. “How’s all your other preparation going?”

“So you grew up in the city, then?” he assumed.  He didn’t think anyone who had grown up elsewhere, who had known what it was like to fall under a full blanket of stars would simply say that ‘it would be nice to see them every now and again’.  “It just feels…Dunno, wrong to look up there and see absolutely nothin’.  Makes the sky look, well, fuck, makes it look like it’s dead, yeah?”  He had never able been able to put exactly why it was he found the skies of London to be so disconcerting, but that was is it.  Back home, everything was so green, so alive, even the sky.  But here?  Everything from the buildings, to the pavement, to the sky just felt…well, the opposite.

She nodded at his assumption. “Edinburgh.” A pause hovered between them when she still struggled to admit that she had spent so much time in another city. “And then New York so I suppose I have just always been used to them.” For a moment she’s quiet, simply taking in the view once more as she debates how much to confess to a practical stranger. There was something familiar about him but not enough for there to be any recognition so she felt somewhat confident that they wouldn’t run into one another unless she revisited the pub. Usually she would have held her tongue, using silence as a defence mechanism but the feeling of almost anonymity makes her that little bit bolder and she makes a soft confession. “I’ve always seen the lights as little beacons that you’re not alone in the city, there’s always someone else up somewhere.” 

He had planned to reach back out to her, one day.  Or at least that’s what he had told himself.  But in reality, there was no guarantee he’d have ever actually done it.  And now looking at her, rushing to his aid when she could’ve just as easily ignored the call, made him feel horribly guilty.  It was just…He had no clue how to act around her.  She was technically his sister.  Half, but still.  He naively felt like it shouldn’t be this hard.  But he also knew that was an expectation that would never be met.  Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances, if she had found out about his existence not in the wake of her father’s death.  Maybe then they could’ve accepted each other into their respective lives.  But those were the circumstances, and there was no changing that.  It was ironic, really as even before Theo was aware of his half sister at a young age, he had always wished for a sibling, someone to share in his experiences with.  God really had a way of taking the piss sometimes.

He looked down as she offered an uneasy smile and he honestly just wanted to beat his newly stitched head against the exam room door.  Why was he such a bloody idjit?  Why had he put her number down?  He could of avoided this whole awkward mess if he hadn’t done it.  But, as his mother always told him ‘woulda, coulda, shoulda’.  So with that, he decided it was about time to square his shoulders and deal with whatever it was that was about to happen.  

“Trust me, I’ve done worse to myself just by being, well, a dumb-ass.” He offered with a half hearted chuckle.  “But, well—God, this is fuckin’ embarrassin’.”  he paused.  “Despite it only bein’ two stitches they’re pretty much actin’ like I got a concussion so…They won’t let me out without like…A fuckin’ chaperone.”  He grimaced.  “Pretty much I just gotta walk out wiht you and then you can go back to whatever you were doin’, I promise.—Although, I definitely owe you like dinner, or a coffee at least.”

Family life had never been something that she had particularly associated with happiness or even contentment or ease. There had been nothing easy about the tenuous relationship she had with her parents, their affection fleeting and cold, hinging on her perceived successes. She knew that she couldn’t claim to have had a bad childhood when she had grown up with every comfort a child could possibly need, and then some. But she would refuse to admit it was ever easy when all she wanted was something genuine and intangible, not purely material. She wondered if she had the chance for some sort of healthy family relation now - not that she would know what that looked liked - or if it was even possible. Perhaps they were on the right track to being sibling after all, when none of their interactions had been remotely simple or easy. 

There was a part of her that wanted to try though, despite how uncertain she was about it all. It was why she had come after all. Gaze flickered over his features, unable to help herself from looking for any similarities he shared with their father. Lips curved upwards slightly at a comment that couldn’t have sounded less like ones that would have come from Alistair. “I’m not sure I find that reassuring.” Tone was light, almost playful when all she wanted was to distract them both from the awkwardness of it all.

Frown flickered back onto her brow for a moment, concerned with how lightly he was taking it all. “I don’t think it hurts to be careful about a head injury.” For a moment she hesitates, wondering if it’s a step too far to make the offer on the tip of her tongue. “I can play chaperone.” Head shook almost immediate when he was talking about some way of thanking her or making it up to her. Even though they weren’t close, he was still family. Tied to her and she would do anything for those in her life. Besides, it wasn’t as though the call had pulled her away from anything particularly eventful. “Oh you really don’t need to. It was a pretty quiet evening, just Stella and I.” 

Atlas was sitting in one of the local coffee shops, typing away on his computer, working on his next novel. A small sip from the cup next to him gave him a little energy to keep typing and progressing through the story. He had several windows and tabs opened on the computer, making notes and changing things wherever they were needed. Part of him knew that he should’ve been getting ready for the interviews he had lined up all day tomorrow, but he honestly just wanted to write. He finally was getting passed this writers block he had been writing, and knew he would need to take advantage of the break while he could. With his brain lost in the work he was doing, he didn’t give much notice to someone standing at the table in which he was sitting. Looking up finally, he paused before speaking. “I’m sorry, um, did you say something? I’m not even going to pretend, I honestly wasn’t listening.” 

Trips to a coffee shop or cafe were hardly out of the ordinary for her when she liked the way that they broke up her day. Even if her order was to go it was still nice just to have those few moments to herself, enjoying a few moments of quiet in the queue and allowing the noise of other customers to feel something like white noise. She had been about to head to the park with her latte, a few moments of fresh air before she went back to work, but the sight of a familiar face caught her eye. When her initial greeting went unnoticed, the blonde had been tempted to leave her friend be but he looked up just before her decision was made. “I just asked if you wanted any company.” Soft smile flickered over her lips before she gave him something of an out when she would have hated to be an inconvenience. “But don’t worry if you’re too in your writing zone. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you and your next bestseller.” 

“What do you think of this color?” She asked as she took a step back from the wall and put her paint roller down. “Do you like it or should I put the purple over it?” Turning to look at Diana, she put a hand on her hip. “If not I’ll keep up this color.” Gesturing back to the wall. “Do you want to help or are you still picking out things for the room?” She asked curiously. 

Light hum was given as she considered her business partner’s dilemma. Head titled to the side slightly as she took the colour in. “I like it, I think it brightens the room up.” Voice was soft when she knew that Logan was the one with the real eye for design and colours. But still, she knew enough about it to feel happy enough in her input. “I’d be worried that the purple would make it look smaller.” Small smile touched her lips as she glanced up again. “I’m still picking things out but I can go back to it if you need an extra pair of hands?”

As Iain stood outside the pub, taking his smoke break (yet another bad habit he had picked up while living in London), he sighed, his eyes drawn upwards towards the sky where all he saw was an inky blue.  It was claustrophobia inducing.  He felt like the solid wall of color with no dots of white that he could trace with his finger to make a picture–much like he had when he was a child– was closing in on him.  Looking down, he flicked his cigarette, watching as the glowing tip fell to the ground.  “Hate all the light here.” he muttered, mostly to himself but also loud enough so the person taking a break (smoke or otherwise) a couple feet away could hear as well.  

Though she had grown up in arguably one of the most beautiful cities in the world and spent almost ten years in one that so many seemed to covet, London was her favourite of them all. She had never quite managed to place whether it was the people she had met there or the city itself but she did know it had its charms. She’d stepped out for a moment of air, the crowd in the pub creating a lot of heat. Pulling her coat around her more tightly, her gaze drifted over the skyline. “I’ve always quite liked them.” Voice was soft, not wanting to startle him too much but she soon added a slight agreement to his comment. “But it would be nice to see the stars every now and again.”

Of all the days for every bad, unlucky thing to happen all at the same time, it just had to be on the most miserable, rainy day that this London winter had ever seen. Probably. He guessed. It sure felt like it. The rain had enticed him to hang around after his gig was done, and that had been his downfall – in the span of those hours, his phone had died, the last bus had gone, and the shower had turned into a downpour. A heavy downpour. Marlon stared down the dark, slick street with bitter dismay, barely able to hear his own thoughts through the violent thundering of raindrops on concrete. The roof of the pub barely protected him, and his clothes were already getting soaked simply by proxy of the downpour. Well. It was now or never. With an audible huff, Marlon steeled himself to set off down the street; but the noise of the pub’s front door opening cut through the drum of the rain, and he realized with a sliver of hope that he wasn’t the last one out. 

Live music had become something of a favourite pastime of hers, the more intimate the gig  the more she found herself enjoying it. It was one of the first things she had managed to stoke up the courage to attend on her own and though that day was over a year ago she had been faithfully going to open mic nights ever since. Some evenings were more hit and miss but there were a few singers that had stood out to her and ones that she did her best to follow. Tonight had been one of those occasions, her having fallen in love with Marlon’s music from the very first time she’d heard him. It was just a shame that the weather had chosen to put a literal dampner on the evening as soon as she left the pub. Familiar figure caught the corner of her eye as she put her umbrella up. “You were great in there tonight. Well, you are every night but -” Sheepish smile touched her lips as she realised that her rush to give a compliment had almost made it backhanded. Moving her arm slightly to make more room to share under her cover, the blonde spoke once more. “Do you want to share while you wait for your lift?”

going into the night, aisling had been more than a bit intimidated by the prospect of sitting at a table of complete strangers. it seemed she’d lucked out, though, with her brother on one side a reassuring safety net and her boss further down as another friendly face. even the virtual stranger next to her seemed nice enough, the scottish accent so different from her own irish one yet almost familiar. “i was just thinking the same thing!” aisling confessed, relieved her sentiments were shared. “my name’s aisling, i’m a baker, maybe you’ve come into the shop? or, what do you do?” leaning towards the other woman in her enthusiasm, aisling ran a hand through her hair, only managing to mess it up where the straps of her mask held it down. for a moment, she wondered if she should lift the mask and reveal her face, maybe help the woman place her, but decided to leave it on for the time being.

Soft smile tugged at her lips as she listened. “Who’d have thought these masks would make everything so confusing.” Light laughter slipped from her lips before she listened intently to the other woman, still trying to piece it all together. “Diana. I’m an interior designer but now that you mention it, it’s maybe the bakery.” She did have her favourite one after all, and the Irish lilt coming from the other woman seemed to perfectly match the young woman who always served her. “I always have the same order.” Nose wrinkled slightly in a small show of self deprecation when she knew she was a creature of habit. “Usually lemon and poppy seed and a seeded loaf. Sometimes I take a recommendation for something new.”

surprisingly enough, hugh had never liked masquerades: if he was going to fuck up, he was sure as hell going to do it with his face in full view of a hundred plus strangers who would never dare forget him. but he was already here, and what else was he supposed to do on a sunday night? weaving his way through the ballroom, the investment banker easily collapsed into his seat once again, a fresh drink grasped in his hand. but then he turned to the woman sitting next to him and: “ i’m at the wrong table, aren’t i? ” he asked, amusement creeping into his voice. 

Gaze had been almost too focused on the dancefloor in front of her as she quietly weighed the pros and cons of getting up to join the dancing herself. With her attention elsewhere, it was his voice that caught her attention. The surprise of it startled a gentle laugh out of her at his words, small nod of confirmation given as they sank in. “I think you just might be.” A quick glance around the room confirmed that those who had been on her table had long since left in pursuit of their own fun for the evening. It was hardly her place to enforce the table plan, especially once the meal was over. Besides, it felt far too rude to send him away. “Although I don’t think anyone is using this seat right now so I won’t chase you off just yet.”