ᴳᴿᴼᵂ ᵁᴾ

       "did you ..."  pink ballerina tipped  fingernails tap against the plastic of her to-go cup of  strawberry-lavendar matcha,  stella's current hyperfixtation of the season,  doe eyes widening as she leans towards the other,  her southern drawl dropping into a  whisper  drifting in the wind.    "did you, by any chance, have an odd interaction with law enforcement recently?" 

" WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING ? no one's around, " peter teased, playfully nudging the blonde with the point of his elbow. he took a sip from his own latte — a venti iced peppermint black and white mocha with whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso — before meeting her gaze again. he could tell from her deepened stare that she was truly unnerved — afraid, even. peter could resonate with that feeling, if only for the lack of control and knowledge he had over the situation. he had his words, which he hoped sufficed, but law enforcement had one over all of them — secrets and evidence that could so quickly turn the entirety of lincoln city against each other. it could destroy the town. he let out a labored sigh. " to answer your question — yeah. kind of. i don't know what to make of it. "

THE LAST TIME PETER STEPPED FOOT on the private beach under the nose of the ester lee motel was just after basic training. he'd been back in town for one weekend only before he was scheduled to be sent off on an airplane, all the way across the universe, to his first army duty station in okinawa, japan. he remembered venturing to this spot in hopes of running into zahra burch, his freshly-ex-girlfriend who refused to speak to him for reasons he could only surmise from the crumpled letter left atop his bed sheets, his father's silent look of disappointment dealt to him the only time he tried to ask. of course, peter didn't find her there. not that time at least. zahra wouldn't let him put their past to rest so easily. he couldn't blame her. now, since the moment he'd been called for the police interview, peter had that same sense of needing to run. to climb out of his bones, his skin, his muscles. he wished to flee and escape lincoln, the same way he did that weekend before japan. it's this sense that carried him back to the beach, zahra's beach. their spot. peter couldn't resist waltzing back into the flames of another regret he thought he left buried, if only to bring himself closer to who he was when he thought he was braver, to who he was when he carried less shame atop his shoulders. if only for a chance at some forgiveness — though he didn't let himself acknowledge this thought. it almost felt mean, instantly finding the woman there laying down in the sand with that same glow about her, that same innocent glance in her eyes he couldn't shake no matter how far he ran. how could he interrupt her, how could be impose ? he'd avoided that gaze for the past sixteen months, and here it was . . . here she was. " zahra, " peter's words escaped his lips in a whisper. he had to make a conscious effort to speak up again. " er, i'm sorry — d'you mind if i sit down ? "

crime and punishment, fyodor dostoevsky

        arms are crossed as she approaches him,  manicured fingers flickering at the lighter for her nerves,  she swallows.   "hi."  if she's out of breath from running out here  ...  well,  hestia doubts he'll notice  ( she's kidding herself ).   "i didn't know you were still here."

THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THE WAY she said his name, the way her voice breached the calm silence of the night as she leaned outside her window, disturbing the melodic chirp of crickets and the hum of warm street lights, brick buildings settling around them. all of this . . . it was nearly enough to transport him back in time. just nearly, for though it was dark, he realized hestia wore a different face than the one painted in his memory. her hair was styled differently, her demeanor too. her fingertips flickered the lighter in a way that told him she'd picked this habit up ages ago — and yet it wasn't a habit he'd remembered her bearing, a stark reminder of just how much time had passed since they'd known each other. " hello, " peter greeted, feigning his best smile whilst simultaneously fighting the urge to wrap her into an embrace. he was meant to behave in a way that was cordial — he was merely conducting their postmortem, not pretending as if the past twelve years hadn't touched them so harshly, so abruptly. exhaling a weighted breath of air, peter wished he could punch himself in the jaw. perhaps it would shake himself out of this, perhaps it'd enforce his principles and ensure he wouldn't let nostalgia make a fool of himself in the way it always did. and yet, even then, even now . . . he wondered if hestia could still see right through him. god, he could use one of her cigarettes. " uh, yeah . . . i've been here since i got out of the army. " peter purposely didn't note that it'd been about a year and a half since then. for whatever reason, it left him feeling too bare — too embarrassed. " just seemed like the logical thing, to come back home, be with family and all. " never mind that he felt he had no prospects, no dreams left to keep him growing past lincoln city. he was rooted here, now. stuck and planted, 'til he inevitably died, or 'til somebody plucked him away. it dawned on him suddenly that he didn't know if she was aware he was ever enlisted. after all, they'd only made contact once in the time that he joined, and it was only one-sided — the letter he'd sent in the last few weeks of basic training, after making the grand realization that his feelings toward her were never simple enough to be regarded as platonic. to this day, he doesn't know if it was her who returned the letter, or if it was her parents. he's tried not to think too much about it. " you know, your parents have a lot of guests over these days, " peter attempted to make a joke, to lighten things between them and shake himself out of his nerves. he knew hestia's parents were as far gone as she was — that the home once his birthright was now merely a rental destination for nosy vacationers, onlookers who intruded his spaces, their town. " when did you get here ? " though he figured he knew the answer, he wanted to shift the conversation to her, needing to take the focus off of himself and his life.

the  majority  of  the  time  ,  cherry  didn't  always  know  why  she  was  doing  anything  .  she  had  the  same  impulses  and  desires  as  most  people  but  there  was  always  something  that  seemed  to  hold  her  back  ;  a  feeling  that  she  deserved  unhappiness  ,  to  sit  with  her  misery  and  do  nothing  about  it  .  if  anything  ,  she  only  ever  made  things  for  herself  worse  .  maybe  seeing  peter  ,  who  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  last  slithers  of  good  that  lincoln  city  had  to  offer  ,  would  reignite  something  within  her  that  wanted  more  than  just  to  sit  and  rot  right  next  to  devils  lake  as  they  all  went  down  together  .   "  i  was  just  passing  by  ,  "  which  made  no  sense  really  but  she  wasn't  going  to  bring  up  the  fact  that  she  had  been  spurred  to  make  contact  by  the  grusome  reminder  of  seeing  hestia  .  (  gruesome  might  have  been  dramatic  )  .  the  reunion  was  all  sorts  of  ghosts  of  christmas  past  and  cherry  didn't  like  the  past  ...  she  ran  from  it  ,  hid  from  it  .  "  what  are  you  doing  anyways  ?  "  nosily  looking  past  him  to  see  what  was  going  on  inside  for  the  house  as  she  waited  for  an  invitation  but  barely  ,  abruptly  moving  forwards  into  his  hallway  as  she  turned  around  ,  "  got  a  scratcher  this  morning  and  of  course  i  didn't  win  shit  ...  the  universe  couldn't  even  give  me  $1  back  ...  "

" I WAS WATCHING LAST NIGHT'S MARINER'S GAME . . . " peter's voice trailed off as he watched his friend welcome herself in. truthfully, he didn't mind the interruption. her sudden presence made him realize he'd missed her, and besides — last he'd checked, it was the top of the eighth and seattle was getting crushed. he'd stupidly hoped they could still turn things around, but the odds were looking less likely by the minute. he didn't mind being distracted from inevitable disappointment. " you can watch the rest of it with me. just no spoilers, alright ? " peter's words flowed as if cherry had grown a sudden interest in major league baseball . . . what did he know anymore ? ditching his wooden case against the couch's side table, peter plopped his body back onto the couch in his rightful spot. turning the volume back on, he half paid attention to the television, half paid attention to cherry. " dunno why you even try with that shit, " he scoffed, amusement in his tone. " aren't you cursed or something ? " cherry carried herself as if that was the case — but he wasn't passing judgement. he knew the universe didn't have a tendency to put people like himself or cherry in its good graces ; though they were still alive, weren't they ? that had to count for something. " i'm joking, by the way, " peter clarified, and he turned himself to face her, smile fading into a slight look of concern as he suddenly gathering the sense that things weren't as peachy as they seemed. perhaps he was reading too much into it, but he couldn't help wanting to check in on her. " you doin' okay today ? "

for  many  ,  it  was  an  uncomfortable  experience  .  on  the  other  hand  ,  michael  appeared  to  be  thriving  in  his  newfound  role  as  the  second  coming  of  religion  in  lincoln  city  .  for  the  first  time  ,  he  was  getting  along  with  his  father  (  who  may  have  still  doubted  this  new  leaf  too  )  and  seemed  to  be  a  very  respectable  member  of  society  .  it  had  only  been  two  weeks  but  he  left  nothing  but  good  omens  in  his  wake  ,  the  brightness  that  he  cast  almost  making  people  forget  the  darkness  of  what  else  was  going  on  .  michael  never  spoke  of  chris  ,  never  thought  of  him  …  tried  not  to  get  too  tangled  up  in  his  association  with  the  night  in  question  while  they  waited  for  police  to  ask  them  again  ,  what  had  happened  .  on  this  particular  day  ,  he  had  just  finished  his  reading  at  the  library  .  a  line  of  happy  children  and  parents  filtering  out  as  he  leans  against  the  wooden  table  that  was  set  up  beside  the  spot  he  had  been  occupying  .  he  was  nothing  but  full  of  lovely  ,  kind  deeds  for  the  ever  deserving  community  that  surrounded  cursed  devils  lake  .  "  i'm  sorry  to  say  that  you  already  missed  the  reading  … it  was  one  of  my  best  renditions  of  little  red  riding  hood  …  "  fingertips  walking  across  the  table  momentarily  as  he  settles  to  sit  ,  "  or  did  you  just  come  to  see  me  ?  "

WHERE MICHAEL GLITTERED IN ADVERSITY, peter retreated, his best hiding spot found in the shadows of places that used to feel familiar. he didn't know how to bounce back the way michael did. it'd been ten years of change — he'd faced heartbreak, loss, literal war. in the grand scheme of things, the problems he left behind in lincoln were nothing, and yet they ate away at him all the same. he'd successfully avoided the lot of it thus far, but even with that came a growing shame, a consuming guilt. nothing felt good these days — peter was a mere ghost in the rubble of his own destruction. maybe he just needed to borrow a piece of michael's energy. that's what brought him to the library today, paired with an urge to catch up with one of his most beloved friends from high school. peter missed the damn guy — his view of the world, his way of turning even the most mundane into something extraordinary. he made their small town of lincoln feel just like paris. peter needed that sort of pick-me-up, and if anyone was going to give that to him, it was michael. he lurked in the wings of the library, waiting for the space to clear out a bit before approaching the man with an amused grin painted on his lips. " you are unbelievable, " peter started, shaking his head with a light-hearted chuckle. he had a tendency to look at michael with an awe-inspired gaze — as if the man was something holy. he could ignore the irony in that thought. " 'course i'm here for you. " there was certainly nothing else that could get him out of the house to go to the library. " little late, from the looks of it, but something tells me i can live without the little red riding hood performance, " he joked. " you free after this ? "

she  was  hardly  flowers  and  rainbows  ,  something  about  her  that  was  always  weighted  in  considerable  darkness  ,  a  grief  that  never  wavered  .  cherry  was  predispositioned  to  see  the  worst  in  everything  but  she  had  never  seen  the  worst  in  peter  .  there  were  few  that  ever  made  it  through  her  surveying  without  coming  out  scathed  by  her  premature  paranoia  ,  opinions  of  what  bad  could  come  .  much  like  chris  ,  peter  had  always  appeared  as  someone  that  was  trustworthy  ,  naive  ,  not  really  in  touch  with  the  cruelty  of  the  world  around  them  .  (  of  course  ,  a  lifetime  had  passed  since  then  ,  ten  years  seeming  to  drag  yet  fly  )  .  her  morning  jog  more  useful  for  warding  off  the  demons  of  consecutive  hangovers  ,  the  only  detox  that  she  was  able  to  find  from  the  things  she  willingfully  inserted  into  her  body  in  an  attempt  to  block  out  reality  .  yet  ,  it  always  came  knocking  just  like  she  was  coming  to  knock  on  peter's  door  that  morning  .

IT WASN'T ABNORMAL to hear a knock at the door these days, the small town of lincoln no longer the quiet ghost town it'd been in the past sixteen months that peter'd been back. these streets, these trees . . . they were merely a skeleton of something he felt close to in his youth. as his old classmates returned, so did the town's spirit ; only this time it felt sinister, tainted. never as sweet as nostalgia painted it to be. at the sound of a knock on the door, peter's eyes darted to the small, patterned glass window at the center of the frame. he could hardly make out a crystallized cherry amin standing there — was it the glass obscuring her features, or was peter merely surprised to see her on his doorstep ? he couldn't remember the last time they spoke. while they'd both been in lincoln long before the cryptic message hailed their classmates back to town, it was rare they'd crossed paths. he had flashes of facebook posts, blurred recollection of her face from afar in a pub on the rare occasion he went out. but whatever the past, whatever her reasoning . . . it didn't matter. he could use the company. peter muted the television program he was watching ( a recorded re-run of last night's mariners game ! ) before standing up and heading in her direction. he leaned the weight of his body against his walking stick as he swung open the door, giving the woman a thin, dimpled smile. " hey, cherry, " he started, brows knotting together. " shit — what are ya' doing here ? "

"fuck." noel evidently didn't care if anyone over heard him as he made zero attempt to lower his voice, if anything one could assume he had raised his voice when releasing the expletive. clearly, he was unhappy with the current predicament but then, so was everybody. and while he definitely didn't want to be stuck there - he did find some comfort in the fact that he wasn't alone. in fact, that comfort is what enabled him to allow a smile across his face as he turned to the nearest person. "how about we try to make the most of this situation?" he arched an eyebrow, "i'm sure there's plenty of mischief to be found."

WAS PETER KIDDING HIMSELF ? his sense of repose could probably be attributed to his disdain for conspiracies, his insistence that things were more often coincidental than not. or perhaps he simply believed what he wanted to — that everything was normal, and nothing could truly be wrong. ghosts and hauntings were only a thing in the movies, and floods and weather-related lockdowns were entirely plausible for a place like oregon. something like that. perhaps he was just naive. peter raised his eyebrows at noel's suggestion. ten years ago, he would've had the exact same thought. but a jaded, worn down peter could only look at the other like he was crazy. " i kinda just wanna go to sleep, wait this thing out, " he started, straightening his posture with a tired stretch. he let out a labored breath of air. " but that's boring, isn't it. what'd you have in mind ? "

Normal People (2020) 1.02