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Okay, so it's not like Rami was trying to follow Winston around, but he was waiting until he stopped in a public place where he'd be staying for a while. In many ways, Rami himself was not excited for this conversation. But he came all this way... flown over 2,500 miles, waited a whole decade.. it had to happen this way. A little bit after Winston had made his way into the town's diner, Rami figured it was as good a time as any to get this going. He sent a prayer up, hushed and under his breath, before squaring his shoulders and walking into the establishment.
Winston was sitting in a booth, and without giving him much of a choice in the matter, Rami slid into the opposite side. It was almost startling to look at the man he had once considered his closest family. They had both grown... of course they had. Had the years treated Winston kindly? Rami almost felt bad in assuming they hadn't, considering he'd barely heard a thing about him in the last few years. And the gossips in Los Angeles were thriving, so they'd have found what they could if there was really anything worth mentioning. Then again, was Rami happy? Not exactly, even with all of the accolades and admirers. Maybe the fates were kinder to Winston, now that he was out of the limelight.
Rami feels out of place. And he is, for a variety of reasons, sure. But as he sort of wanders up and down the main street of the small town, he gets more and more confused. His phone keeps leading him to dead ends, both proverbial and literal, and all he wants is to get some reps in. Sure, he can go on a run in the park, but it's hot, and in that muggy Northeast way. So putting his pride aside, he tries to get the attention of the first person he sees, a bit of a bashful look on his face. "Hey.. I er-" he pauses. Why does he feel so awkward about this? His job is performing onstage in front of boatloads of people. "I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of a gym? I've got this really airtight routine, you know? And I really can't stand to miss it. My trainer's gonna lose it at me if I do, and if we're being so honest, I like the discipline." Did he just say that out loud? He had a tendency to ramble, when he wasn't "on", and now he just felt stupid. "It'd be a huge help."
as much as the girl likes to be around other people she doesn't always want to talk to them. usually her doberman ducky gives her 'scray dog privileges' but he is a whore and loves attention from everyone when he's not actively training. throughout their afternoon walk brynn had done well deterring him from body checking other park patrons and she had gotten good at that since not everyone loves dogs and even some that do don't like big ones. her winning streak came to its timely end though when ducky caught her off guard while checking her phone and bolted up to the closest person he could, jumping up on his hind legs to put his feet on their arms and giving them a big lick on their chin. the second she noticed she quickly got him off but that didn't stop her from scolding him, " are you serious right now? dude, i will sell you. " brynn spoke looking down at the dog before turning her attention to his victim, " i am so sorry, are you okay? "
He's come to a place called Penny Park, to clear his head. It's been five days since Rami arrived to Cider Point, and he already sort of feels like he's going to lose his mind. And maybe it wasn't advisable, being as prominent as he is, to take a walk in the park, unprotected, vulnerable. But he'd come this far and he hadn't even seen Winston, let alone spoken with him, so he needed something to occupy his time, until such chance happened. He didn't even really have a moment to think before a dog was licking his face. And while he was admittedly more of a cat guy, he didn't mind one bit. "Hi big guy." He tried to make his voice as sweet as possible. It was then that he clued into the fact that the dog obviously had an owner, and she was speaking to Rami, now. "Oh! Yeah no. Of course. You've got a sweet dog."
do you hear BE LIKE THE WATER BY INDIGO DE SOUZA playing? oh, that must be RAMI HAAS breezing by. i donât know if you recognize them, but they look like EMILIO SAKRAYA to me. i heard that HE has been in town for 5 DAYS which is crazy considering they are 32 years old. yeah, they live over on ELECTRIC AVENUE, and i heard that they work as a/n SINGER. i love that they remind me of REGIMENTED WORKOUTS, TROPHIES ON THE MANTLE, THE SOUND OF A TEA KETTLE, PRACTICING HOW TO POSE, & A BIG, EMPTY HOUSE but ⊠ugh, their playlist is so weird. why is/are BANG THE DOLDRUMS in the queue?Â
Itâs not that Rami had a quaint upbringing. Itâs just that things were far simpler, back then. Thereâs a part of him who almost wishes he never left.Â
His father, a professor from Berlin. His mother, a graduate scholar from Morocco. They met, and things clicked into place. Settling down in Marrakech seemed to be an easy choice, and soon came Rami, their proudest moment.Â
His first few years were steeped in his motherâs culture. And growing up, Rami was precocious - always curious, always running⊠he wasnât sure what he was chasing.Â
As it is for many professors, it was time to start a new teaching job, but this one brought the Haas family to Los Angeles. So at 8 years old, Ramiâs life was completely upended.Â
He tried to assimilate, but he didnât understand so much of what was going on around him, and that first little bit in the States felt unbelievably lonely. He was so young, but there was so much about himself that he didnât understand. Still, little Rami made a vow to himself that he would train to be ânormalâ. To be useful, and liked and maybe even loved.Â
But things seemed to change; when at 11 years old, he joined his middle schoolâs choir. The teacher simply gushed over his voice, how angelic it was, how important it might be one day. He adored the praise, sure, but his mom took that note and ran with it.Â
It was decided, then, that Rami had a path. He would train, his voice, his dancing, his music proficiency. They would not let his talent go to waste.Â
His mother devoted her life, at this point, to becoming a stage mom like no other. And like every great momager, she did not play around when it came to her son. She ran this operation like the navy, and through this, Rami became flawless. The perfect, sweet, boy next door. Media trained to perfection, talent easily apparent.Â
Which, at a certain point, ended up with him winning a singing competition show with the one and only Winston Su.Â
Winston, who would become his best friend and boyband mate. Winston, who served as a sort of quasi-big brother, in spite of him being the quintessential youngest child. Winston, who Rami looked up to like a patron saint. He was so much of what Rami wasnât, at least, inherently. He was charming and a little cocky. He worked hard, of course he did. But he did it in a sort of effortless way, and nothing had ever really felt easy for Rami.Â
Meeting him felt like it cracked the world wide open for Rami. And sure, their band and the rising fame was a huge part of this new beginning, but at the start, it sort of just felt like the two of them against the world. Nevermind the team, the fans, the endless stream of handlers and clout chasers and people who spewed hate for no reason, other than their own misery.
Rami couldnât really pinpoint when things started getting so bad. Itâs just that, this was never really his dream so much as it was the path he was put on. He had a golden voice, sure. And he was grateful, of course he was grateful. But he wasnât exactly sure who or what he was without that. Sometimes he sort of felt like a robot, programmed to do what he did, and then be done with it.Â
It was a runaway train, really. All good things like this were not meant to last, but Rami tried to avoid the inevitable as much as he could. He got really into working out, as a coping mechanism. He started secretly writing songs on his own, merely as a hobby, except it wasnât really.Â
Things were suddenly so bad. Everything was bubbling up and boiling over, and tensions were running high. But as much as it felt like Rami was starting to grieve the most important friend heâd ever had, he was a professional. Rumors might have started spreading, and those who knew the boys knew that things were going south quickly, but Rami remained composed and almost stoic. He was achieving everything he was ever told to want, and he worked hard for it. He wasnât going to let a little drama get in the way of that. Winston, as it seemed, had a different outlook.Â
They won three Grammys. It was the pinnacle of their career, and hours later, it all went to shit. Winston punched Rami, NDAs were signed, Winston was gone and Rami was alone again.Â
Looking back, he supposes he can thank Winston for so much. They started together, but the punch fast tracked Rami to superstardom. He was the innocent victim, subject to the nepo baby finally snapping. His mom took this as a challenge and took advantage of the buzz. Everything happened incredibly fast.Â
Soon, a decade passed by. He toured the world. He dropped 4 albums. He dated women and men and fell in and out of love. He was the industryâs darling, and he felt helplessly alone. He was an island, and few people actually knew him. Winston had, but Winston was gone. And never mind that, because Rami sort of hated him now, for ruining this. For making it all public. For fucking up his own life and becoming irrelevant. He assumed Winston hated him too.Â
But the thing was, this all followed Rami around. No matter how many career highs he reached, (more Grammys, more glowing reviews, more and more and more), people kept asking about the punch. It had been ten whole years and they still all asked. And Rami was fed up. Didnât his career speak for itself? Hadnât he given them enough?Â
It was about time they spoke, really. Rami was still that curious kid, but now he was chasing answers. He told everyone he was taking a hiatus, and with how burnt out he felt, this might actually be a good thing. He heard through the grapevine that Winston had fucked off to a small Massachusetts town, so thatâs where he was headed. He had a bone to pick, and maybe this time it was Ramiâs turn to be confrontational.Â
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Sloane canât help it. Sometimes she zeroes in and then sheâs locked. She doesnât even really know why she came into the gas station. She just needed a bit of gas for Blueberry, but she had an itch for something. Maybe a Snapple? Or sunflower seeds. Which is where she found Maeve, and it was sort of like spotting a mythical creature. She never really came across the Finnegans, but god, they were fascinating. âOh! Sorry!â Sloane offered a sheepish smile. âHostess is like totally doing a brand project with me and I wanted to know if youâre a Twinkie girl or if you favor a Ding Dong.â It was a terrible cover but at least it was something?
âWelcome to a Northeast summer, buddy. Itâs one of our specialties.â He grins, with a sip of his cappuccino. âSometimes itâs awful cozy, though. Iâm a little bit selfish, but sometimes itâs good so I can stay in and write. Donât get me wrong, I love the outdoors. Maybe a little too much.â And the thought makes him just a touch sad. The years he grew up in the hot sun, dreading the rain, just wanting to be out on the diamond as much as he could. He didnât have that now. Now, maybe he preferred the rain. At least it kept him safe. âI can text you a link to the shoes, if you want? I really like my pair.â
âOh it absolutely is, but you know me.â He gives Elias somewhat of a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. âWhatâs going on, man?â And thereâs real concern in Noahâs voice, his eyes furrowed, a little. For all of his brashness, he cares deeply. âI know⊠I know I can be unserious at the best of times, but Iâm a good listener, I swear.â He chuckles, nodding slightly. âThat wouldâve been clutch! You shouldâve been there, man.â
Thereâs something about the ritual of petting a dog. Of feeling that sort of companionship, and maybe thatâs one of the reasons Noah wants to add one into his life. He wants a purpose, too. And the practice of caring for someone, of keeping them safe, that feels like maybe he can prove some form of responsibility to the people who think heâs incapable. Maybe it also would feel like some big proof as a step in his and Wesâ relationship, but then again; what did that matter? They loved each other. They knew that, deep in their bones, so judgment was just noise. âHeart of hearts? The dream would be an Aussie. Active and caring and full of energy. I think thatâd suit us, but I guess weâll just have to see who might be out there.â Liberty licks his palm, and Noah grins, earnestly. âDonât you worry, sweet girl. Weâll find you a pal. A new best friend.â Noah laughs, shaking his head. âI still have a streak going with one of my frat brothers. Everyone else has abandoned it, I think. But weâre at 1,786 days now. Itâd be a crime to stop.â He chuckles, nodding slightly. âThey show it all the time, donât you worry. Iâm the miracle, you know? But the restaurant came first and for their legacy alone, I gotta make sure it outlasts me.â
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STATUS: closed for @earlyblues & @lovedearlove
LOCATION: some interstate in the continental U.S. (fuck if anyone in this car knows where exactly....)
WHEN: sometime in 2021 (if I know math, which historically, I do not)
"Why would I lie?" His head knocked against the window in the backseat as the car jerked again, not entirely convinced he wasn't going to have a minor concussion by the time they reached their next unplanned destination or someone finally snapped and forced Brett out of the driver's seat. Consequences of willingly traveling with people who were still very much strangers to him. "You know, traditionally, you're supposed to stay within the lines." Momentarily distracted by what he'd previously been saying to make the dry comment. By now, Xavier wasn't accustomed to having prolonged company like this and it showed in just how much he spoke and how fractured or distracted his speech would get. "Anyway, as I was saying," his leg bumped the back of Lennon's seat for the umpteenth time. Which he would defend was their fault for being so fucking tall and either not hearing or blatantly ignoring him several exits back when he, not so eloquently, requested they move their seat up. "My dad's illiterate." Maybe? Positive father-son bonding was not something that ever took place in his household so he didn't actually know him well. The point was there clearly wasn't a whole lot going on in the guy's head if he didn't even want to raise Xavier and then got with someone who already had her own kid so the lie could've been believable. "But my mom was so dead set on the name Xavier. She just had to change the spelling to make it easier on him, break it down into words he knew. So, egg â E-G-G â savior â S-A-V-I-O-R. Obviously he struggled with the savior part, but I think he was really starting to get the hang of it by the time I was learning how to spell." He all but toppled over in the back when the car jerked once more. "Just a quick question, do you keep your eyes open while you drive?" He leaned forward in between the two front seats as if to check only to look at Lennon instead, "Are you going to eat the rest of whatever the fuck you grabbed at the last gas station or...?"
How had Lennon ended up here? She supposed it was a question that came up all the time, now, but even so. She remembers, albeit not perfectly, sitting in her apartment in the Lower East Side, as a kid, tucked into her motherâs side on the ratty old couch. Her mom loved one movie more than any other. And so Lenny couldnât even quite recall just how many times they had seen âThelma & Louiseâ. Her mom would always whisper to Lenny about how sheâd one day be out there on the road, going on great adventures. At the time it seemed magical, sure. Now, with a bit more age, Lenny was fairly certain this was the fantasy of a woman whose husband kept leaving her for the âroadâ. And now Lennon was here, in a car, scattering across the country. Except instead of being with another hot woman, she was stuck with dumb and fuckinâ dumber. One who couldnât drive straight to save his life and the other who wouldnât stop ramming his legs into the back of her chair.. which was pushing them closer and closer to the edge in which Lennon would break and scream. Or maybe stop, drop and roll out of the car. It was a game-time decision, they supposed. And then Xavier kept droning on and on about his name, which, quite frankly meant nothing to Lennon. She was itching to get some music on and drown him out, but given the sheer state of the car they were in, that seemed like a pipe dream. âCan we stop for a smoke soon, man?â She looked over, trying to beg and plead silently; or at least make any eye contact with Brett. They had to both be annoyed by the one who got them into this mess, right? âDonât touch my shit man.â She whipped around to Xavier, with a glare. âGet your own snacks. Iâm saving mine for when the good stuff kicks in.âÂ
âsuper fuckin' nosy,â he confirms with a sharp grin, âbut i barely know anyone's names in this small ass town, joan.â sends a wink her way, so she knows he's kidding. he knows she's telling the truth, if only because he made it his business to be friends with as many baristas in l.a. as he could. to keep his finger on the pulse of his community, obviously. âalright, prove it.â most women couldn't resist proving a man wrong. âknow anything about some guy named mateo?â
"God, Joan would have been a great name. Like... of Arc, you know? Or Cusack." Sloane sighs a little dreamily, just thinking. "Well, that sounds like a you problem, Winston. Guess you gotta get yourself out there a little more." She grinned, writing down a note to herself in her work journal. "Oh the cutie who's crushing on my friend Honey? Big stunt guy, very impressive. The crash was terrible though... poor guy."
đ¶ sloane was probably the only person in time avani truly felt she could be open to as of late, to show any and all vulnerabilities. sloane had seen her through it all since arriving in this time, since first taking this job. the only reason she was in cider point in the first place. "they baited me... and it worked..." she slumps down into one of the stools at the counter, staring down at the faux marble pattern before looking up at sloane. "i can't believe it..." she's not making sense, but her thought were raging a mile a minute.
âHey⊠hey. Itâs gonna be okay, Vani. Weâre gonna make it okay. And you know me! Iâm stubborn as hell. Whatever happens, I got you.â She paused, sitting down carefully, in the stool right next to her friend. âI know itâs probably terrible to recount, but can you talk me through what happened? This way I can make a plan.â
After living in one city for his entire life, Wes felt both terrified and exhilarated about moving to a new one. He had only ever heard wonderful things about Cider from his sister; it was a place she had found special, and he knew Roman at least liked it enough to keep residing there. Perhaps he should have been a little more apprehensive about moving in with strangers that he barely knew - or didn't know at all. However, two other guys, similarly around the same age as him, didn't seem like it could be that bad of an arrangement, he figured. Unless one of them turned out to be a psycho, it was probably about as safe a deal as he could get. The rent was right within the perfect budget for him; the place seemingly nice enough without breaking the bank. Once he began working as a swim instructor, it would be even easier to manage, he hoped. All Wes knew was what little was mentioned in the ad, and the set up conversation that followed. He was a pretty simple guy, and easy to get along with. Hopefully his new roommates thought so.
Wes didn't have a ton of stuff to move with him, and the furniture he had managed to squeeze in the back of his truck. He could always venture back home for a couple of hours at some point if need be, but for now, he should be covered. Really, he wasn't the nervous type. Yet, he felt flutter bubbling up as he reached the door to his future - or, rather - current now, apartment. Wes knocked on it gently, a bright smile resting upon his lips as he waited with wide blue eyes to be greeted, and hopefully welcomed.
It was time. Really, it had been time for a long while, and Noah simply couldnât delay it any further. His parents loved him, they did, but he knew how annoying he could get. And he was an adult, and his childhood bedroom was something he had outgrown, so he found himself sitting in a brand new room, in an apartment that didnât quite feel like home. Maybe it had to do with the fact that one bedroom was occupied by a stoner loner, who seemed to not want much to do with Noah, even though he had been the one to seek out roommates. The third room sat empty, still, but his final roommate would be in soon. Noah only hoped that this one was nicer than the other.
His final surfboard was hung up, the posters displayed, the shoe rack next to his bedroom door. His spices were put away in the kitchen, and his rice cooker was a welcome addition, or at least he thought so. And maybe Noah was a little extra nervous and wanted to impress this âWesâ, so a batch of his grandmotherâs yakgwa, a traditional Korean honey cookie, was sitting, waiting, on the counter. When he heard the knock, he bounded over to the door, feeling a little like a dog, waiting for its owner.Â
The man was beautiful⊠that was Noahâs first thought. In fact, he could sort of feel himself blue-screening a little bit, because he looked like some sort of Greek God fantasy come to life, and what the fuck was Noah supposed to do with that? He did just about everything in his power not to drool, as he forced a bright smile. âHi! Iâm Noah Cho. Um⊠Iâm guessing youâre Wes?â
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Sloane stood, peering over at the group, eyes almost comically lit up. Itâs not that she enjoyed the drama, per se. Itâs just that it fueled her podcast, which⊠was her business, and besides. People seemed to love drama like this. Maybe she was writing some of the dialogue in her notes app⊠was that such a crime? âSeems like he forgot their anniversary⊠again. God, men, right?â
starter: lennon ( @lovedearlove )
location: electric rhythm
nora feels like she knows lennon. by association, of course, she's never had the guts to actually talk to her. but anyone who comes with xavier's approval has to be someone she can trust, particularly with something as simple as advice on a musical gift for her father. "hi, you're... you're lennon, right? I'm xavier's friend, nora, you might've... seen me your kitchen once or twice."
Lennon couldnât even really tell what mood she was in, but The Cranberries were spinning, and they couldnât help themselves from mouthing along to âZombieâ. There was something about the Irish. That spell was broken, though, when a familiar face that she couldnât quite place started speaking to her. âHuh?â She tried to recollect, but memory wasnât exactly Lennyâs strong suit. âWait! Yeah. Nora. Fuck, sorry. Yes. I feel like Xavier hides you, âcause you look too nice and sweet for our place.â Lenny cracks a small smile, a little misplaced fondness in her eyes. âYou need help with anything?â
stormborns
2087
gracieabrams
romaincrisis
