i'm like the weather!

it’s like meg is listening to their parents telling her she can’t go to a sleepover just because. it’s like she is back in middle school and had no choice to make for herself. which is, surprisingly, a long while back. even now, their parents were nowhere to be seen or heard, telling her she couldn’t go to a festival a few cities away. maybe if they didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, maybe if she actually followed jen and sarah, she wouldn’t be in this situation. having to argue with nick was never her favorite, because they barely argue, even if they did it was always in a sibling type of way. this however, wasn’t that.

“oh, you sound just like mum and dad!” meg almost hisses at him, arms folding over her chest and standing her ground. “lucy is already on her way to get me, i paid for the tickets, and also” she clicks her tongue, as a matter of fact “taylor swift is never going to be coming this close to us, ever.” a statement, one that nick even if he didn’t care, couldn’t argue with. “those tickets cost an arm and a leg, you know how had to i tried to get those!” she insists, whines at nick “you’ve met lucy plenty of times! tom and sam are also coming with us, they’re just in a different car. i went to school with tom, he was in the same year as me.” it makes zero sense, everything was so perfectly crafted, so well structured, she couldn’t see why nick, out of everyone, was so insistent on making her stay. she was gonna be late for lucy to pick her up if she kept this up. 

“if i’m not at the bus stop within the next few minutes, she’s not gonna wait for me, so i need to go. now.” meg huffs, waving at the door that nick was blocking.

this is getting nowhere and the worst part of it is that that is only true because nick’s argument is so flimsy that megan manages to find its every weakness. even if her priorities aren’t exactly straight, nick knows she’s right. she has already paid ( though he would reimburse her out of his pocket without hesitation ) and she’s probably right that taylor swift won’t come this close to their humble town again before he turns fully grey ( he’s getting there already, especially with the stress of this conversation, but for now, that’s still hopefully a long way off ) and he does, in fact, know lucy quite well and hadn’t known she was going with them. yet, that doesn’t bring him any comfort, because the truth isn’t that he doesn’t know her friends or that he’s unsure how he feels about the crowds — it’s that he unnaturally knows what’s coming, and he can never explain that to her. to him, it almost doesn’t matter how much she loves her brother, he doesn’t know how a bond can be repaired from the secret he’s kept hidden for so long that makes him so much different to everyone else — so abnormal. 

break times were one of danny’s favorite because it meant teachers would be in the coffee room, break room, whatever. dahlia would be around and he didn’t have to awkwardly linger around the art department to have a chat with her. it was less embarrassing, but danny didn’t really have such an emotion really. it was embarrassing for dahlia, from what he knows at least. he couldn’t care less what the kids thought of him, but there were times where he had to. anyway..

he is quick to spot the art teacher when he enters the room, mug in hand and past papers ready to be marked under his arm. “hey.” he starts the conversation, just as lively as ever as he places the mug down and sit across from the other. the stack of papers thud dully onto the desk. the question makes him squint at dahlia, but he gets it. frieday was just around the corner, but thursday was a bitch. “honestly, i feel the same.” he replies, almost instinctively bringing his tea to his lips “thanks for letting me use your milk this morning, i forgot mine finished yesterday.” a rookie mistake, but dahlia was nice enough to let him use it. of course, he would pay her back, he just needed to figure how. there is a small nod from him as he looks at his own papers, shoulder shrugging “couldn’t get nerdier than logarithms if you ask me.” he agrees, because maths wasn’t for everyone. he can’t help but chuckle at her comment, smile wide on his lips as he hides it behind his mug 

“kids, am i right?” he asks, because he gets it “i had alex from my nine am class tell me that maths in school was wrong because he saw a video on youtube, of some guy proving two plus two is actually five.”

if it were anyone else, dahlia would be startled by the way danny can always find her in a crowd. sure, the teacher’s lounge isn’t exactly coachella or glastonbury main stage ( though sometimes the elbows that dig into your side in the rush to the coffee machine does make it feel a little like they’re all racing for front row for beyoncé ), but he always makes a beeline for her the moment he crosses the threshold, weaving between other bodies and greetings until he can crash down into the seat next to her. she even tries to sit somewhere different every so often, but it never seems to throw him off. it’s almost like a superpower, though dahlia thinks after a day at school, invisibility would probably be more useful. 

he drops his own stack of papers down and dahlia has strangely come to envy his marking of math papers. after all, there’s no room for interpretation in math: the answer is simply either right or wrong. usually for her, it was wrong, but with a marking guide that just tells you the answer, it has to be easier to mark a stack of math tests than it is to understand where on earth billy from year eight has found a link to star trek in the mona lisa. 

“you’re welcome,” she mumbles around the lip of her mug, “at least you asked.” maybe she’s still a little bitter about last friday’s anonymous milk theft, or maybe she’s just tired. maybe both, now that she thinks about it. “seriously, though, don’t worry about it. if I ever need milk, you can lend me some in return and then we’re even.” she knows he’ll only thank her again later, though she’s also not under any illusion that insisting will stop that either, but at least she’s tried. 

maybe it’s their difference in age that has nick completely baffled by her behaviour. maybe he’s just getting ‘old’ now at the ripe age of thirty-seven and he can no longer understand his own youngest sister in the same way he hasn’t been able to with his oldest two for years. the distance between him and jen and sarah hasn’t hurt how easy it is to fall back into old habits, or how readily they answer each other’s calls, but he can’t say it’s easy to relate to their big city lives and public transport woes. megan had always stuck close in their homely little town, even when she’s had the potential to fly much further than anyone else, and nick’s always been selfishly grateful for it — for having her stay by his side through everything he’s struggled with in private since he was a teenager and she was barely old enough to know how comforting her company was to him. maybe that’s the problem. maybe he holds her a little too close. 

on an ordinary day, dahlia would loathe the long breaks for breakfast and lunch. time to sit with her thoughts and the knowledge that someone’s used her milk again aren’t high on the list of ways she’d like to spend her work hours, but by law, she has to do it — and by societal norms and danny’s insistence, too. the placemat under her cliché ‘best teacher’ mug ( bought for her by her parents, and not one of her students, as to be expected when she’s only actually been a teacher for just over a year and a half ) is suddenly the most interesting thing in the teacher’s lounge, even above the top paper on the pile of art history quizzes beside it that claims it was andy warhol who painted starry night in the historic 2001. but then danny’s voice cuts through the mindless chatter in the room, and his own decorative mug thuds onto the table and dahlia thinks maybe not all too-long lunch breaks on bad days are awful. 

RORY !!

[txt] Human is generous, you’re right. Bugs? No, that’s an insult to bugs. Abominations? I think that word fits well for the garbage exes.

[txt] I quite literally hate that for you. You didn’t even do anything, other than being betrayed.

[txt] I like the sound of exchange. It benefits both of us – especially when it sounds like the two of us have gotten quite the ass kicking recently.

Rory pauses for a moment amidst their texts, contemplating the question posed – it had crossed their mind. But could it work? Obviously the “prank” – or harassment, more or less, had lead them to receive a lot of distasteful messages, or jokes that just fell flat. This was the only positive interaction they had got out of their number being spread like wildfire – and that was another part of Rory’s hesitation. They didn’t want her to gain anything from a similar prank.

[txt] You know…it has. But I’ve been too afraid to act on it. And unfortunately, it sounds like we both had to endure narcissists. She loves attention way too much, and I can see the phone number prank backfiring spectacularly. She would also probably figure out it’s me, and if this was her idea of hurting me more, I don’t want to know what else she has in stock.

[txt] I wish we could figure out a way to make them both feel humiliated and ashamed for the awful shit they’ve done. Even if it’s just once.

[txt] And I guess in a way, her prank backfired, too. We found each other out of this whole ordeal, which might I say has been far more pleasant than all the unsolicited photos and nasty messages I’ve received since then.

[txt] I would kind of hate for either of them to have a chance to gain a genuine and nice connection. They don’t deserve it.

Rory hesitates for a moment before sending their last two messages – did they sound overbearing? But then again…their words were true. They were incredibly thankful for this connection, even though it was anonymous. They had reached a point where they had begun to feel like they were drowning in negativity – and while the two sounded heartbroken, at least they had one another to lean on. The young English major felt like they could breathe again without having to steel themselves every time they unlocked their phone to check a notification.

[txt] Have you thought up any ideas for any sort of revenge? Maybe we can put both of our minds together.

[ 💬 ] I don’t like bugs, but to be fair to them, they’re less gross than my ex.  [ 💬 ] thank you. sadly, it took me a little while to realise the same. like, at least a whole ten minutes. lol. then I just wanted to raise hell.  [ 💬 ] didn’t though. not really worth risking my education for temporary satisfaction, you know? [ 💬 ] if I learnt one thing from all this, it’s how to pick my battles.

she thinks maybe she’s rambling a little too much, that her text-based companion doesn’t need to see her using thinly veiled humour to poorly patch the holes in her ego any more so than the people still in her in-person life do— but how can she resist when they reassure her so effortlessly? when they extend more understanding and kindness to strangers stealing their phone number off a bathroom stall door than her so-called friends had when she was sprawled on the floor, just another collection of broken pieces amongst the split wood of that cursed coffee table. 

[ 💬 ] it’s terrifying, isn’t it? to think that there’s almost nothing that they couldn’t twist for their own benefit? if we retaliate, we’re obsessed with them. if we don’t, they convince themselves they’ve ‘won’. if we let them know how much it hurt, they feel important. even if we aren’t hurt, they pretend we are anyway. not to mention they’re the ones who get to decide when they’re done. they’ll always have the last laugh. where does it end? 

ariel knows better than anyone that benji will never understand the way he hurts people simply because he will never care to, and though it’s no surprise to her, it still tugs at her heart that there’s more monsters out there like him, who leave destruction in their wake and hold their head higher after each battle. for benji and her friend’s ex, public humiliation had been their starting point— truly how far would they go if faced with resistance? as unsatisfying as it is to run away with your tail between your legs, ariel will always be grateful she let herself calm down before considering her next move. she could live with the shame for now; she doesn’t think either of them could live with whatever their exes would have had in store for them next. 

[ 💬 ] same, but people like that will never feel shame. and there’ll always be people who validate their delusions that they’re the victim. it’s so pathetic, but that’s life.  [ 💬 ] that’s cute. I don’t think I’m built to be an optimist like you seem to be, I’m too cynical, but you’re right. they’ll always have impersonal, fake connections with people who want to benefit from each other. when you put it like that, it sounds so lonely. karma’s a bitch. love her. 

admittedly, after everything, ariel didn’t think she’d be able to find a connection like that again. the realisation that the bond she’d shared with benji had been nothing but a boldfaced lie destroyed any trust she had in anyone around her. how can she ever know what’s real? yet, when the words flash up on her too-bright screen, ariel falls right back into wanting desperately to believe in someone without even realising. it’s how she always has and likely will always continue to be hurt, but it’s also her saving grace when her conscious thoughts attempt to convince her to never open her heart again. 

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.

BLUE.

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.

BLUE.

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies.

BLUE.

cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways

RORY !!

[txt] One of the worst things is when art of some sort becomes a terrible association. There’s a few songs that I can’t stomach now because of a garbage ex-human of my own.

[txt] Please tell me it wasn’t the girl that shoved you into the glass table in order to protect the trash boy. Either way though, that’s fuckin’ awful, and I hate that you had to go through that.

[txt] You can use me as a free therapist. It sounds like we’re both working through wounds at this point. Physical and emotional.

[txt] I wish I knew! If you find a psychology student that seems to have an idea, let me know, because I have questions myself.

Once Rory has read over the messages they received once, and then twice again, and carefully yet quickly crafted responses in hopes to steal their anonymous friend’s attention for just a short while - they place their phone down to the side again, contemplating. There were so many questions that went both unasked and unanswered, but they were too afraid to jump that line so soon; they had already received several nasty messages, and a few unwarranted photos - leaving them apprehensive to break the anonymity of the one decent human they had come into contact with. They wished they had the audacity their ex did to scribble their number on walls, on bills - but they never wanted to stoop to that level. With all the bad, they didn’t want to risk her finding something good, something like this.

sometimes ariel thinks that the fact that someone who knows nothing about her, and whom she knows nothing about, too, can understand her so well is startling. yet, each time she’s reminded that though they remain anonymous, this nameless friend knows more about her than almost anyone else she could name in her life right now — and at the very least, she knows a great deal more than she realises about them, too. maybe they have others in their life who sit far higher than the frequent complainer that lives in their messaging app, but that still doesn’t take away from how much ariel has confessed only thanks to the comfort of being completely unknown. 

it doesn’t take long for her phone to buzz again at her side. she’s lazy as she picks it up, leant back in her chair and homework long forgotten. her pen clangs noisily against the desk as it becomes abandoned also. 

RORY​ !!

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. A ripple of vibration from their cell phone against an old oak wood table. Rory had begun to find comfort in this contact specific noise over the past few weeks. At first, it had been one to spark anxiety, especially having just left a terrible relationship with a heart-wrenching break-up. They had no doubt that she would do something like hand out their number, try to get a rise out of them - try to get back in their head. They had definitely received an unsolicited photo or two, and very terribly written message (both in grammar and in content) - but these faceless texts had become endearing, something that they often waited for late into the night when they were still awake, writing away to get lost in their thoughts.

Rory makes sure to quickly save their word document, deeming this a good time to take a break - briefly glancing at the clock and realizing it had been three hours since they last looked; before they lean back in their desk chair, picking up their phone, and quickly switch all their attention to the messages they had received.

[txt] That sounds awful! How did that come about?! [txt] And please. You’re never a bother. I’ve been here to listen to your thoughts this far, and I’ll continue to be here. So lay it on me.

it’s strange to ariel that something so dangerously out of character for her could have lead to feeling the most herself she has since the break up. despite hiding away in that cubicle, desperate not to be seen crying over the man who never deserved her, it felt like the entire world was watching her. no one cared really, and she’s still not sure if that’s a relief or a curse in the grand scheme of things, and regardless, it doesn’t bring her any comfort either way. and though she knew revenge wouldn’t scratch that itch to be validated either, anger is the only thing she can seem to consistently latch onto — at herself for being played for so long, and him for having the gall to cheat so brazenly in the first place. 

the number had seemed so clear on the stall door that door, but when she’d returned later on to obscure the crude comment that accompanied it, it’d never been any brighter or bolder than anything else scrawled across the peeling paint. perhaps, she wonders, it’d been the universe steering her in the right direction, to her new friend, but she doesn’t believe in that kind of ‘fate’ nonsense. benji’s complete lack of remorse and absence of consequences ( at least so far ) are proof enough all that is just what people tell themselves to feel better. maybe instead, then, she wishes she did believe, so it could do her some good. 

she’d been looking for an excuse to ignore the homework in front of her, and more so, the painfully nostalgic song her radio club friend is playing on their show at the moment, when she texts her new anonymous friend. it’s just her luck that they’re free to reply.