intangible.

              “ 𝚒  𝚊𝚖  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚘𝚗𝚎  𝚒𝚗  𝚝𝚎𝚗 .  𝚊  𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛  𝚘𝚗  𝚊  𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝  . ”

#𝐅𝐂𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐒.    dependent  character  for  ʷᵒʳˡᵈᵇᵘʳⁿʳᵖ  ,  judah  hendrik  as  adored  by  kay   ( she / her  ,  21 )   .   this  is  a  lesson  in  :  being  discarded  by  society  ,  the  horrors  of  boyhood  ,  fruitless  coping  mechanisms   &   a  young  man  made  of  a  patchwork  of  memories  .

“Not that type of writer,” she assures him. The story-snatching type, she isn’t — which is perhaps just why she isn’t all that good at it. A one-on-one interview with the Cartel’s underboss still sitting in her drafts folder, unsure of whether to publish it or not — even though it’d rocket her name up to new heights. Shrug, “Because I’m an indecisive nutcase with a lot of fucking issues and really expensive rent — besides, doing shit you want to do is fucking scary. I did theater before journalism, and it’s almost worse than painting portraits on the subway. Also, the MET gala is next month and hell if I’m quitting before I shoot my shot with Harry Styles.” The machine beeps, so Lola moves to transfer her coat from washer, to dryer. “Nope. Not pseudo,” she jokes — then gives way to a beat of true consideration. “Well, I’m tormented, and I’m an artist. But I’m not tormented about art.” On second thought, “I don’t even know if it can be considered art. I sing and I can put my legs behind my head. Is that art?”  

“If you could be doing whatever the fuck you want, what would you be doing?” She asks in turn, clicking the dryer on. Then, she motions to the now free washing machine — remembering he’d mentioned his jacket. “Go on.”

            NOD  FOLLLOWS  SUIT  of  the  assurance  ,  hairs  fallen  astray  haphazardly  tamed  with  digits  sent  coursing  through  his  brunette  mane  once  more  .  “  oh  so  you’re  one’a  those  buzzfeed  types  then  ?  get  your  start  in  community  theater  or  somethin’  just  ta’  join  up  with  some  ‘go  green’  millennial - ran  media  company  ?  ”  or  in  her  case  ,  an  uppity  magazine  with  a  name  that  proceeded  itself  .  “  got  it  ...  ”  noted  as  to  oneself  rather  than  an  outward  verbalization  .  “  singing  kinda’  makes  you  the  instrument  ,  so  if  you’re  half - decent  ...  sure .  but  ,  ‘less  you’re  gonna’  be  the  next  big  cirque  de  soleil  act  ,  i  highly  fuckin’  doubt  it  counts  .  ”  his  body  moves  forward  instinctually  ,  up  on  his  feet  sooner  than  he  realizes  &  unloading  his  things  into  the  barrel  of  the  washer  .  “  whatever  i  want  ??  ”  brows  quirked  on  his  forehead  before  creasing  as  he  pondered  the  inquiry  ,  though  the  answer  easily  came  to  mind  .  “  probably  doin’  blow  on  a  yacht  in  the  middle  of  the  galapagos  or  somethin’  .  ”  a  blinding  truth  he  likely  could  have  kept  to  himself  ,  but  why  not  .   “  wa’  bout  you  ?  ”

“It’s not so bad,” Jakob scowled doubtfully. A broken nose was nothing serious, and if he had cared about it, he would have been more worried about the haggard look his night companion was giving off. But, seeing him wipe his nose with an amused look, Jakob couldn’t suppress a smile. There was something damn pathetic in this young man, pushed to such a paroxysm that it could almost have become beautiful, poetic, attractive.

He’d seen him somewhere. But where?

An accident? Original. "So you mean to tell me that this wasn’t done on purpose? Bit boring, isn’t it?” With a quizzical grin, Jakob approached his hand again from the other’s face, this time placing it on his forehead. “Something like that,” he treated various animals on a regular basis, but none of them were capable of the deceits reserved for the human race. “You wanna tell me what happened while I patch you up?” He never showed kindness out of greed, but often because he could get something in return. Tonight, he just didn’t want to be bored, and he would be satisfied with a lie, as long as it was plausible. The truth could be dull. An accident. Dull.

            ASK  NO  QUESTIONS  and  get  no  lies  .  “  s’my  truth  and  i’m  stickin’  to  it  ,  ”  a  flicker  of  something  dangerous  in  his  eyes  .  a  charming  young  man  capable  of  something  terrible  ,  ʲᵘˢᵗ  ˡⁱᵏᵉ  ʰⁱˢ  ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ  .  “  so  long  as  we  keep  this  pro  bono  .  wha’  you  just  tote  around  a  personal  first  aid  kid  for  these  occasions  ??  ”  as  if  there  were  an  opposing  purpose  to  the  ,  albeit  comical  ,  imagery  .                judah  was  a  nocturnal  animal,  he  came  alive  come  dusk  &  much  to  his  dismay  ,  so  did  others  .  that’s  how  he  got  this  crooked  nose  ,  anyhow  .  tired  bones  lax  upon  on  of  the  unoccupied  wall-mounted  seats  ,  thumb  swiped  beneath  his  nose  for  a  final  time  before  levelling  dim  sights  on  the  other  as  he  awaited  the  so-called  aid  .  “  i  was  bein’  followed  .  ”  likely  for  product  he  quite  obviously  hadn’t  had  on  his  person  (  for  once  .  )  “  if  you  couldn’t  already  tell  ,  the  guy  had  it  out  fa’  me  .  ”            

ISABEL TURNED TO LOOK AT HIM. Immediately, she grimaced at the state of his face and then patted herself down. “You sure you didn’t get that fucked up face because someone wanted your lunch money?” It was a better excuse than the one that the money was out. Though Isabel had come with her own so maybe he was telling her the truth about that. “You might want to toss your clothes in there. Blood is a bitch to get out when it dries.” Her body leaned against the washer before she pulled out a few coins and tossed it on a nearby washing machine. “Your nose is gonna be fucked. You might want to go to the bathroom and reset that.”

            “  HA  HA  ,  real  fuckin’  original  .  ”  dry  wit  eases  from  gilded  tongue  ,  “  luckily  enough  ,  schoolyard  days  ‘er  long  gone  -  not  that  i  was  gettin’  pummeled  for  my  lunch  money  anyway  .  ”  if  anything  he’d  earned  himself  an  untouched  reputation  ,  a  pair  of  fists  with  the  name  of  anyone  who  held  him  in  a  downturned  regard  written  all  over  them  .  talk  shit  ,  get  hit  ,  amiright  ??  “  tell  me  somethin’  i  dunno’  already  ,  ”  carmine  splattered  visage  unfurls  with  amusement  ,  jacket  tugged  from  broad  shoulders  .  &  yet  words  of  appreciation  is  a  language  long  lost  for  judah  .  small  throng  of  clothes  unloaded  into  the  machine  ,  he  finally  turned  to  face  the  other  ,  lowering  his  gaze  to  meet  hers  before  waving  her  off  .  “  dont  worry  ‘bout  it  ,  i  know  a  guy  who  knows  a  guy  .  ”  at  least  one  who  could  correct  the  posture  of  his  nose  without  fucking  it  over  more  than  it  already  had  been  .

@ludomalatesta​   :   ❛ it’s less like biting off more than you can chew, and more like dislocating your jaw. ❜

            A  MOUTH  LIKE  broken  glass  ,  spewing  every  cursed  fragment  he  could  recollect  as  she  dappled  the  peroxide  along  the  abrasion  dotting  his  jaw  .  gaze  ventures  up  ,  "  okay  ,  okay  --  i  fuckin'  get  it  !  ”  eyes  flutter  shut  ,  a  smarting  pain  greeting  him  .  the  temptation  to  swat  her  hand  away  itches  beneath  his  skin  .  “  y'really  think  its  dislocated  though  ??  ”  

“I write funny stories all the time,” she says. Not on purpose — but she finds humor in them, anyhow. The tragicomedic kind. “Fucking weird how you’re asking for change and refusing to tell the tale, though. So, you just take and give nothing back? That’s just not cool, dude.” Lola shrugs, and checks once again the time on the washer — five or so more minutes. “I write for Vogue. See? Funny.” 

A shake of the head, and the very ends of black strands shake alongside it. “Technically, because I hate it, and I’m gonna quit. Then I’m going to technically do something else instead.” 

             DISBELIEF  BLANKETS  crimson  stained  features  ,  all  conveyed  through  a  quirked  brow  ,  “  i’ll  believe  it  when  i  see  it  .  ”  a  huff  follows  as  judah  sat  himself  down  ,  a  certain  fatigue  aching  in  his  bones  .  “  hey  ,  hey  .  i’m  the  charity  case  here  ,  i  don’t  owe  you  anythin’  .  ”  cool  or  not  ,  jude  stayed  true  to  his  ( albeit  crooked )  moral  code  .  “  besides  ,  you’d  probably  just  run  off  with  the  story  anyhow  —  next  thing  i  know  i’m  in  some  splashy  writeup  .  ”  head  lolls  ,  perched  fist  brought  to  a  bruised  cheek  as  dim  sights  onced  her  over  .  sure  not  to  linger  too  long  .  “  well  ,  ya’  haven’t  quit  yet  so  what’s  stopin’  you  ??  ”  eyes  narrow  ,  as  if  to  pin  her  beneath  the  scrutiny  of  a  magnifying  glass  .  head  tilted  as  he  starts  up  again  ,  “  don’t  tell  me  you’re  one’a  those  pseudo  tormented  artist  types  .  .  .  ”    

@hstarke​   :   ❛ there are forces outside of your control. most of them don’t care for you. ❜

            MOSS  FILLED  all  the  lonely  parts  of  him  ,  worn  with  time  like  some  sort  of  ancient  relic  discarded  before  its  time  .  it  showed  in  his  face  ,  the  crease  on  his  temple  hardened  between  furrowed  brows  .  a  certain  boy-fury  ignited  within  a  young  man  that  never  quite  experienced  true  boyhood  .  the  brunette  only  knew  grass  stained  jumpers  &  court  room  recollections  .  hans  made  a  point  ,  ᵃ  ᵍᵒᵒᵈ  ᵒⁿᵉ  ᵃᵗ  ᵗʰᵃᵗ  —  but  judah  hadn’t  considered  it  in  the  moment  .  words  made  in  jest  can  still  sting  like  fresh  wounds  .  “  and  you  wouldn’t  know  the  first  fuckin’  thing  about  carin’  would  ya’  ??  ”  a  hotshot  ‘ something  on  wall  street ’  that  looked  down  upon  new  york  from  his  high  rise  while  the  city  consumed  itself  whole  .  blunt  drawn  from  lips  ,  a  short  plume  of  smoke  obscures  features  .  “  not  even  if  it  hit  ya’  like  a  ton  of  fuckin’  bricks  .  ”

Manuel stepped aside to let Judah come in fully, a small smile gracing his lips, “Tacos from the place on the corner?” He asked, admittedly happy for the distraction. Everyone had been exceptionally horrible lately and he needed something a little more normal- if you could call Manuel and Judah and the lives they led normal, anyway. He led the way into the small kitchen, leaning against the counter, “You know the way straight to my heart. What brings you to the neighborhood?” He teased, stepping forward to investigate the contents of the bag, his mouth nearly watering at the scent alone. 

            A  BENDER  .  though  he’d  never  tell  it  .  judah  hated  the  way  people  ( he  loved )  looked  at  him  when  they  found  out  ,  faces  all  swollen  with  pity  .  or  worse  .  it  was  better  to  keep  all  the  bad  things  inside  ,  tuck  it  deep  within  his  cage  of  bones  &  withering  flesh  until  he  too  couldn’t  distinguish  the  truth  from  the  lies  .  to  take  the  façade  god  made  him  and  craft  another  .  “ business  as  usual  , ”  straightforward  enough  ,  but  never  as  simple  as  he  affirmed  .  “ decided  ta’  get  some  grub  an’  was  feelin’  charitable  .  ”  the  words  flow  matter-the-factly  as  the  brunette  snagged  a  to-go  tray  for  himself  &  a  beer  to  accompany  it  .  mind  circles  back  to  the  ( likely  aimless )  inquiry  ,  “  why  . . .  d’ya  miss  me  ??  ”  food  in  hand  ,  the  words  trail  alongside  him  as  judah  made  way  from  the  kitchen  to  the  living  room  .  “  s’alright  if  ya’  did  ,  i  would  miss  me  too  !  ”  lips  purse  over  ivories  momentarily  ,  words  punctuated  as  he  sat  himself  down  on  the  couch  .

“I’m technically a writer — I like funny stories.” Lola’s own way, to encourage him to tell it. It rings as probably pretty damn ironic, that she’s this taken by the sight in front of her — perhaps only for the fact she hadn’t expected it. Lola had been in fights before; granted, alcohol had been at the core of it, and details therefore forgotten. Still, she doesn’t really remember ever seeing red. She shrugs, “I’m washing a coat.” Just the one. “This place is packed during the day, and I couldn’t sleep.” Under straight-cut bangs, her brows then furrow. “What are you doing?”

            CHESHIRE  falters  into  a  bemused  grin  ,  “  a  writer  ,  huh  . . .  ”  [ whatever  the  fuck  that  means ]  judah  echoed  the  verbalization  absentmindedly  ,  “  y’should  write  a  funny  story  then  .  ”  it’s  funny  how  he  danced  around  the  truth  ;  evaded  cosmic  inevitability  with  such  ease  .  he  wasn’t  some  diary  you  could  just  rifle  through  .  if  anyone  wanted  entry  ,  they  needed  to  crack  the  lock  first  .  “  m’  tryna’  get  the  blood  outta’  my  jacket  before  it  fuckin’  stains  .  ”  his  shirt  ,  a  plain  tee  only  dotted  with  a  drop  or  two  of  his  own  blood  remained  otherwise  spotless  .  couldn’t  quite  say  the  same  for  the  beloved  jacket  he  likely  should  have  trashed  months  ago  .  so  what  ,  call  him  a  sentimentalist  .  “  wh’do  ya’  technically  write  anyway  . . .  are  there  some  weird  semantics  i’m  missin’  out  on  here  ??  ”

WHERE.  manny’s  apartment  . 

            HOME  .  never  quite  something  with  just  four  walls  .  even  in  his  childhood  home  .  much  less  a  home  than  it  was  plain  bliss  with  something  vile  bridling  beneath  it  all  .  he’d  known  many  houses  -  taken  into  the  ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉ  of  a  stranger  before  being  passed  on  to  someone  else’s  care  when  he  proved  to  be  too  much  to  handle  .  judah  would  learn  to  make  homes  within  people  .  within  himself  ,  once  upon  a  time  .  he’d  witnessed  this  scene  before  ,  wrapped  knuckles  drumming  against  tired  wood  in  warning  rather  than  anticipation  .  front  door  opened  allowing  him  entry  into  the  apartment  he  only  frequented  once  or  twice  before  .  thank  you  bag  is  hoisted  upward  ,  grin  partially  feigned  in  greeting  .  “  i  brought  tacos  &  booze  ,  thank  me  later  .  ”  

 The guy looked familiar. Jakob couldn’t recall where he’d seen him before which could mean two things : 1. he’d never seen him before 2. he’d seen him before, and decided to forget everything he knew about him. Judging by the state of him, the latter was absolutely likely. Judging by the dazed look in the other’s eyes, Jakob knew he wasn’t gonna have such a terrible time if he messed with him. With his healing black eye, and the bump from his barely mended nose, Jakob was however aware that he didn’t look particularly perfect in this instant. That probably made him more approachable. The thought had him shuddering in disgust. Great.

Looking over his shoulder, he glanced back at the young guy and shook his head. He was not an ATM, after all. “You’ve got a little something on your nose,” he replied, instead, leaning forward to take a better look. Reaching out, but not touching him, he narrowed his eyes. “It’s broken,” and he needed stitches for his eyebrow, and there was a possibility of a concussion. Jakob knew the normal thing to do right now was to step back and leave the place with his laundry basket. Instead, he leaned forward a bit more, to look at the oozing wound. “How did you do that?

            HAD  HIS  MIND  not  so  delicately  orbited  another  ᵖˡᵃⁿᵉ  ᵒᶠ  ᵉˣⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ  ,  jude  could  have  pieced  together  where  he  knew  the  other  from  .  they  ran  in  the  social  circles   [ pushed  drugs  for  the  same  people ]   after  all  .  “  ch’yeah  no  shit  ,  ”   &  yet  ,  all  the  brunette  could  manage  in  the  stint  was  an  underpass  of  the  pad  of  his  thumb  beneath  his  nostrils  ,  smudging  away  the  lingering  crimson  from  pallid  skin  .  “  that  bad  ,  eh  .  .  .  ”  a  huff  of  a  laugh  follows  suit  .  laughing  away  the  pain  with  glassy  eyes  crinkled  at  the  corners  .               mistrust  etches  in  the  expression  surrounding  unmoving  eyes  ,  suspicion  sowed  in  childhood  .  anything  for  a  soundbite  of  the  broken  winged  boy  .  unable  to  disregard  the  doubt  once  ebbed  into  a  young  boy  too  lanky  for  his  stature  ,  mouth  wired  shut  .  &  the  cycle  continued  onward  .  question  answered  with  a  lie  .  “  had  a  accident  ,  ”  a  moment  of  hesitation  buffers  between  thoughts  judah  can  hardly  distinguish  between  the  intoxicant  coursing  in  his  bloodstream  .  avoidance  ᶜˡᵃⁱᵐˢ  him  with  an  iron  fist  .  “  y’some  kinda’  doctor  or  somethin’  ??  ”

Three in the am, Lola’s iPhone displays back to her. She’d been once advised against washing her coats this late at night, but it’s about the only time when the place is all empty. Probably just the why. 

Caught in her own thoughts, she watches the circular loop in which the leopard pattern connects back around itself; like some fashionable ouroboros. She’s sleepy enough that it holds the ability to hypnotize. 

Still aware enough however, that when a voice comes, she nearly jumps. “Dude. What the hell.” Lola looks down at herself then, as though checking for pockets which she knows aren’t there. “No, but I can swipe your stuff. It’s cool.” Beat. “Have you seen yourself? No offense, but it’s — very Stranger Things chic.” Compliment or no, it’s entirely unclear. Beat. “…I wish I could help, but the fact I can’t tell if that’s blood or ketchup is probably kinda telling.” 

            GRIMACE  only  agitates  newly  dealt  facial  wounds  ,  perpetual  crease  between  brows  harshening  .  it  hadn’t  been  his  intention  ,  but  judah  couldn’t  quite  blame  her  for  the  near  scare  he’d  given  her  .  token  of  appreciation  is  internalized  ,  tucked  deep  within  the  lining  of  his  stomach  .  dried  crimson  flakes  over  a  knowing  cheshire  grin  in  retortion  .  “  yeah  well  ,  funny  fuckin’  story  . ”  bruised-knuckle  digits  course  through  tousled  mane  ,  proud  shoulders  falling  .  “ y’shoulda’  seen  the  other  guy  ,  really  had  it  out  ‘fa  me  . ”  nose  crinkles  ,  a  silent  prayer  held  in  the  hope  that  no  further  blood  unknowingly  coursed  down  his  visage  .  “  what  ‘ah  you  doing  at  a  laundromat  this  early  in  the  mornin’  anyway  ??  ”  ( maybe  the  saying  held  some  truth )  this  city  truly  never  slept  .