the kids aren't alright

“You’re so welcome.” Rowan replied, mimicking the other woman’s tone. It was fair; not many people knew the specifics of Dublin. Yet when it came to the Irish, most stereotypes weren’t too far off. “Dublin resident. You know, Irish. Most of what we do is drink and fight.” She laughed and winked, doing her best to ignore the sudden pang of homesickness. Ten years had gone by since the last time she’d been home and she missed it. The streets, the people, even the food. “It’s means you’re going to keep on hurting for the next several days. But yeah, that’s a good thing. Means you’re building up muscle.” Most people worried about if anything was effective. She wasn’t the best at assuaging such worries, but she occasionally tried. only with those she liked. “Any grocery store. There’s all sorts of flavors and types.” She didn’t know some people were unaware of the existence of such things. It was every day life, to her. 

She laughed, lightly. “I’m not laughing at you, Nora. But that could have been me, a few years ago. You’re not the only one that feels that way, and nothing I can say is going to take that fear away. You have to decide if you want to live with that inside of you, or get fed up and decide you want better for yourself.” That was what it had taken for her. Anger. At herself, at her life, at the choices she had made. She’d been so stubborn for so long, until she decided to turn that stubbornness onto fixing herself. She swallowed when Nora’s attention went to her hands. This was never the easy part, those old feelings welling back up. “I was hurting. And angry. And I thought this was the only way I could actually feel. I had - still have, a lot of problems.”

“Four.” She said, sifting through the books she had chosen, before picking the one she’d read about three hundred times already. “A little, yeah.” He wasn’t the first person she’d seen sleeping in the bookstore, not the first person she’d ‘accidentally’ woken up. “I just got here, hardly bothering me. You’re more likely to bother me while awake.”

“Once upon a time, a blind man tripped and fell into my fist. The end.”

“Edge of the seat story, from start to finish.”

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos?

raspberry: favorite flower?

lemon: do you have any pets? what are their names?

mango: what is your trademark?

passion fruit: how would you describe your style?

pineapple: sexual orientation?

strawberry: favorite desserts?

cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing?

grape: if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go?

banana: favorite horror movies?

blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or drama?

pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident?

cantaloupe: what are your parents' names?

guava: dark & dramatic makeup or natural makeup?

tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, which would you be?

plum: favorite clothing brands?

coconut: favorite perfume?

lychee: satin or lace?

blueberry: what do you want to dress up as for halloween?

apple: what do you use more, tumblr or twitter?

kiwi: what's something that fascinates you?

watermelon: do you have a job? if so, what is your job title?

papaya: what song describes your aesthetic?

cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night?

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person?

orange: do you have long eyelashes?

apricot: what do you do when you're sad?

star fruit: favorite sea creature?

Outside of her work, Sunshine Books might as well have been Rowan’s second home. She was more than happy to tuck herself into a corner of the bookstore with a tall coffee and whatever book caught her fancy and pass an entire day in solitude there. It was only returning books that got her in trouble this time, though. Coming to the widespread table, she spotted the sleeping man and couldn’t resist the urge to let her books fall with a loud bang on the table, before pulling out a chair. “It’s nine past.”

“I fucking hate you.” Rowan leaned back in her chair, kicking her feet up on the chair to the right of Kit. “Shit, I’ve seen you locked out of your tree like a monkey who forgot his keys.” She told him with a giggle, half because she knew he didn’t get ninety percent of the expressions she’d grown up around. “Sure enough.”

Kit: Do it anyways. It's what civilized people do

Kit: Yeah, yeah, we've been through that already

Rowan: She left so there

“Nah, you’re far too much of a white girl.” Rowan spouted back easily. She chuckled again, watching Nora struggle. She might have pushed the other woman a little too hard, but she hadn’t called mercy. “Not so much admirable as it was hardheaded and angry. In other words, Dublin resident.” She pointed out with another low chuckle. “Your ribs aren’t broken, quit your crowing. And if you want to see some of my favorite moves, you’ll have to come to an actual fight sometime.” They were far fewer than they had been before; but Rowan didn’t think she could even give it up completely. It was too much a part of her. “You need more water?” She asked, draining what was left in hers. “You can do what you want. I don’t recommend a big meal if you don’t want to upchuck it all, and a protein shake beforehand is gonna be the best thing for you.” She pointed out, eyebrow arching as she watched the other woman struggle with morbid amusement. Still, the seriousness prevailed, and Rowan struggled to find the right words. “Piece by piece, yeah. Maybe not embrace, but face it. It seems like it’s easier to run away or cover it up, but eventually you run out of energy. Get cold and bitter and angry. Look-” Rowan held out her hands, displaying her knuckles so scarred and worn they looked permanently swollen. “I did this to myself thinking the pain inside was too much. If it’s too much, you find help. You go at your own pace and don’t expect everything to get better in one day.”

A small smile curved her lips at the woman’s words, and instead of defensively saying that it was all an accident and a part of her clumsy self (not all the time clumsy, but often enough), she just scoffed. “You have made your point of no human interaction—” she said, her voice didn’t really have any tone to it, so it was sort of bland, “and I aim to please, sorry about the pencil.” Alice raised one of her eyebrows slightly. Since she had arrived there, now judging about how her coffee was cold and how her sketch was pretty much a little bit far along, it had been a while since the woman had basically avoided or even proverbially ran away from any kind of human contact of social interaction that could have been sent her way — Alice included. She was rude at first, but now the brunette thought the other might have grown used to Alice being there, seeing as she had not sent her away again and by now, her cramps had stopped, she just needed to finish the drawing and that she could do at home. Maybe she should go? After taking the pencil from the woman’s hand, she gathered her things and got up. After all she really needed a smoke. “Well, this has been lovely, but I should get out of your hair as I promised, it was nice meeting you, thank you for the coffee. I’ll pay you back someday, throughout life.”  

“It was a joke. I am actually capable of making those, you can laugh.” She was certain now that she was making it worse, she knew. But she couldn’t seem to stop it, so she just shut her mouth instead, looking off in a different direction until she spoke again. Rowan looked back towards her. “Okay. I don’t want to be paid back. But whatever.” Her eyes turned back down. Another social interaction down. Kit was never going to cease giving her shit for this one. 

Her eyes rolled, rapidly less impressed. She’d spent her life around people who’s parents had told them they were ‘special’ and nothing about those types of people had ever endeared herself to them. In that way at least, she supposed she could be grateful to her father. He had never once told her that she was special or smarter than average. As for her mother, she didn’t have enough memories to determine whether she would have been the type to coddle Rowan and tell her how wonderful she was. Given that she had been married to Rowan’s father, she somehow doubted she would have been the most uplifting of people. Her toe tapped and caught the pen as it rolled, she was already beginning to lean down when asked for it back. She handed it back to the other woman, still avoiding too much eye contact. But she had made it a fair amount of time sitting across from a stranger without making an absolute fool of herself and for that she was proud of herself. “You don’t have to throw stuff at me to get my attention.”

She grimaced slightly, briefly. That wasn’t really a category she wanted to put herself in, but it seemed too late. “I think I’ll settle for just being your trainer, thanks.” She gave. A chuckle escaped, watching her student in pain. This part she was plenty accustomed to, nobody did well while they were pushing their limits. “I’m standing cause’ I’ve been doing this since I was about eight years old. Unless you’ve broken a few of my ribs and given me a solid concussion, I’m Irish. I’ll keep standing.” Rowan grinned with the fact. Irish people were nothing if not proud, stubborn fuckers. The smiled faded quickly as she listened to Nora. She knew this story; it might as well have been her own, but it worried her. She lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged a few feet in front of Nora, blue eyes looking intensely at the other woman. “You don’t come here to fix problems. It won’t get you shite. If you need a release, it’s good. Don’t turn to this as a way to fix things, or shut out the world.” She didn’t know how to stress that importance. She never would have listened, not before. “Take it from someone who’s been there, just shutting out the pain is only going to make things worse.”

Kit: You're probably good then. Just smile if she looks at you.

Kit: Sadly, criminal records mean I can't be.

Rowan: Smiling is stupid

“Now you’re just being a dick for the fuck of it.” She snapped back, some of the amusement in her tone fade. She knew how ‘princesses’ were supposed to act, all the men in her life had tried to force her into the mold. “I’ve seen you get that drunk.” Rowan pointed out. “At least I’m not as much of a gobshite as you.”

Kit: Uh huh. Sure.

Kit: Uh, does she look angry or tense? Or is she doing something else?

Kit: I do not! I occasionally stretch the truth, but otherwise, I let people keep their assumptions.

Rowan: You're welcome

Rowan: I think she's drawing?

“Princess is not a compliment, and you know that I don’t like it. I haven’t been a princess a day in my life.” She tried not to smile at his antics and failed. “You were there. You were drunk.” They were off on a tangent now, making it up as they went. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am nothing but well-behaved.”