only a matter of time

All people are a series of shifting masks, faces aging in real time, like a grotesque slideshow. Sonny read about cellular turnover once, in some glossy health mag displayed on the calacatta paonazzo marble table in his office. You can’t be in pharma without paying respects to the anatomy of your constituents, can you? Cells die, cells regenerate, sometimes in four days flat. People are like that — contradictory, no spine, just reacting to whatever force hits them.

The community clown flips his smile to a frown. And nobody asks why. Nobody asks why the clown cries. Sonny knows. He’s the guy who made it fucking happen. That’s what being The Guy is. Ripple effects. Luxury liner cutting into open water. Baby whales, get the fuck outta the way. Daddy Titanic’s in motion.

BYOH Boy clears his throat, trying to flex alpha with no dawg in him. His siblings can do better. But Sonny? He’s above that, certified Sigma. The posturing doesn’t land when your net worth could buy a network. If money’s the problem, money’s the solution.

You don’t need to be a Division President of a multi‑billion behemoth to figure that basic shit out.

Sonny slides his hand into his suit. Two rings only — he’s not gaudy like the new‑money asswipes flashing three, or fuck forbid, four. Green flashes under his fingers. Crisp Benjamins, more than this guy would ever see doing charity gigs, fold into a fan. Sonny whips them out, slaps them gently, deliberately, against BYOH Boy’s face. Gotta keep societal cogs turning.

“There. Paid in more than full, plus... You’re welcome. Buy your crew dinner on me at a nice place for once, my dawg.”

Tien feels damn foolish preeing the bashy Bring Your Own Hero guy from two park benches away. If En, Lennie, or Worthy knew, they start teasing. Crushing on the guy they briefly spoke to while he fulfilled their BYOH request was pathetic, nuh true? Tien can't even recall why they'd even send out a request, maybe it was for restocking at the restaurant during a dinner rush.

But back then it did feel a real emergency, months ago, and @yourpaljoaquin was a true hero for stepping up. And man wasn't hiding himself or nothing like that, it was real easy to find his alt on AlterEgo and what was Tien's simple idea of raising their pal's follower count lead to "creepin," as Lennie said, stush as xe could be. Coo pah dah one yah, as if Lennie wasn't keep check pon Sangrienta from RealHero, and everyone acted Sab wasn't some AxiaL groupie.

At least Tien wasn't buying into RealHero's stewards. More product than people, them. Even the authentic ones weren't into being people, no, they wanted to be legends, all that korouchi. Honest living was what Tien was after. As honest as one could be carrying a copy of Bas' I.D. and helping Sab fudge their claimed household income with the rest of the... family? Group? System? Aren't they just all Bastiens at the end?

Tien's restless leg shakes up the park bench some, which is a feat since these things are bolted down. A mother with her child is cutting her eyes at Tien that they self-consciously stand up. Aw cho. Sitting back down would be another crassis, so Tien searches for another bench within observing distance, and there happens to be one across the plaza. Aw cho. Holding in a breath as if it'd make them invisible, Tien powerwalks by Joaquin's setup, hoping to meld into the flak.

But then some rawtid guy starts demanding shit from Joaquin. Ay wot? Who's this bastard? Then he slaps Joaquin's wonderful face with a bunch of paypas.

"Ey! Stop!!" Tien blurts because they've never been good at the chilling, that's Topman, or socializing, that's on Fout to Siks. Realizing too late what they've shouted, all Tien can think they would like Bas to show up and reabsorb them.

Mere seconds passed in the time Joaquin finished speaking and Sonu Naik decided to slap his face with a small stack of money. Joaquin recoiled almost immediately when the bill made contact; mouth falling agape for a split second before his face crinkled up in irritated disgust.

“ What are you—? Money’s gross, dude! That stuff is covered in who knows how many germs! ” Joaquin scolded, leaning back and away from Sonu as the other man proceeded to carelessly drops the wad of cash to the ground.

He watched the bills drop while pouting, eyebrows furrowed at the center of his face. Joaquin was about to make a comment about littering when the Naik heir made a sudden grab for the bouquet still in his hands. Joaquin let out an incredulous “ Hey! Stop that! ” before raising the flowers high above his head.

“ I think you’re confused, sir, this isn’t an official BYOH event! ” He half-shouted, hoping—perhaps in vain—that maybe getting louder will help get his word across better. “ And I don’t want your money! ”

Joaquin took a step back, trying to create distance between himself and the older man when he heard a voice call out from somewhere behind Sonu.

Turning his head towards the shout, he made eye contact with a familiar looking person, but he struggled to find a name. Their face looked like one of the workers at the Gristedes where he bought groceries, but he wasn’t sure. Their face looked right, but Bastien’s hair was different. Had they changed their hair and he just... didn't notice? A real friend would have noticed.

His stomach sank. This was someone who had come to support him and he couldn’t even be sure if he’d met them before? How cruel. Was he really all that different from—

“ What the fuck? Who the hell do you think you are? ”

Another voice cried out from the growing crowd of onlookers snapping Joaquin back from his thoughts.

“ They’re right! Apologize to Joaquin right now! ”

Some of the people who had been hovering around the carousel had also begun to turn their attention to the scene unfolding before them. Joaquin noticed a few had their phones out and pointed in his and Sonu's general direction.

” You should be ashamed of yourself! What would your father think? ”

After the oddity of the first night at the Film Festival, Sarah had gone out of her way to try and get more positive press for the event. It seemed to be working, with how the ticket sales were steadily increasing, but even then, she wanted to end the week of movies with a bang. Metaphorically, of course. Her plan for that had required multiple stages, from convincing Ajay to go to the closing ceremony with her to convincing his PR team that this was yet another good opportunity to humanize him. Normally, she wouldn’t bother going through his team, as he was old enough to make his own choices, thank you very much. But Ajay, the sweetheart that he is, had accepted her offer to appear on her stream of the night, so she wanted to make sure his sweetness wouldn’t get him in trouble for some silly reason or another. It worked because what she had told the PR team was true: the public had loved her collab with Ajay and how it humanized him, and reminding them of it would create a wave of good press before the next few reality shows he was slated to be in began airing. 

Of course, her motivations were a little more selfish than getting Valerian good ratings. Sarah simply wanted to spend time with her friend, and stick it to his haters.

Ajay idly watched the crowd that had gathered around the Flushing Town Hall. There were more people mingling around the entrance than would fit inside the venue and if he had to guess, most of them probably had not reserved a seat for the screenings. Here for another reason then.

Taking a deep breath, they nodded, and turned to look at Sarah. “ Yes. I mean, ‘no, I’m good.’ It can’t get any worse, right? ” He replied and winched internally. It had come out harsher than they intended and Sarah didn’t deserve anything but pure admiration from him at this point.

He knew she was just trying to cheer him up after the disaster that was that Appelle‑Moi article and the social media shit storm that had followed. She didn’t know that the only reason his team had approved this venture was because they thought that Ajay being seen with another woman might help slowdown the speed in which people online were talking about “Flarenix"— And he certainly didn't have the heart to tell her and potentially taint an aspect of their friendship. Especially not now when things with Keegan had gotten awkward.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of being known as a celebrity who was routinely spotted hanging around beautiful women, however — but it definitely beat being romantically linked to fucking Flare of all people. As he silently brooded over the events of the last two weeks, a realization suddenly struck him.

Reaching out, he gently put a hand on Sarah's shoulder to get her attention and asked, voice low and serious, “ Sarah, are you sure you want to be seen with me right now? There’s a chance you might get some backlash since Fl—that woman has crazy fans. I’d feel terrible if you to get caught in the cross hairs. ”

Oh no, I've been spotted.

His smile faded slightly at her response, renewed self-consciousness heating up his cheeks and his stomach dropping as he realized his mistake — but it brightening back up as she continued.

Anna, as Joaquin had learned, liked to tease. Or at least he thought she did — or rather he hoped so? It was hard to tell. The majority of their interactions had been on AlterEgo, so he was never quite sure of the tone she intended. But despite the numerous amount of times she had threatened to block him, she never did. So either she was incredibly magnanimous or it was a joke. But it could be both. Maybe? He had thought about asking once or twice but assumed it would be rude to do so this far into them being acquainted with each other.

Either way, Joaquin liked her. Despite a personality that could come off as aloof or unattached, he knew that she was incredibly kind — he had been witness to her empathetic nature and desire to help others. While certainly her tactics could be considered… avant-garde… he knew it came from a place of genuine care for those around her. She was undeniably a good person. And his good friend, maybe? He would ask but that would be rude too, right?

Laughing sheepishly at her question he scratched shyly at his cheek. “ Ah, well, I wouldn’t really call it a fan meet… more like a get-together ? Among friends ? I posted about it online — I don’t know if you saw ? Ah! I guess not since you weren’t here to see me… ” He trailed off, feeling embarrassed, the blush returning to his face.

Feeling awkward, Joaquin followed her gaze and noticed a particularly rotund squirrel darting into the foliage with something vaguely rectangular and partially wrapped in its mouth. He chuckled at the sight and briefly considered giving chase; it probably wasn't good if the squirrel at the packaging..

Momentarily distracted, he was caught off guard by her next question. Tilting his head, slightly perplexed, he answered with a question. “ Bother me ? You mean like a heckling ? ” He tilted his head in the other direction, thinking hard.

“ I don’t think so ? But honestly, stuff like that kind of goes over my head. ” Lifting a hand to grab his chin as he continues to ponder, a realization hit him — was this about that clearer guy? “ Oh! Could it be you’re worried about me ? ”

Filled with gratitude, Joaquin smiled at his friend brightly. “ Ah, thank you Miss Anna, I’ve very touched! But please — you don’t have to worry about me! I’m surrounded by friends all the time so I’m practically invincible here in the NKC! ” As if to prove his point he lifted his arms to flex his biceps — then, he immediately felt embarrassed again. He had spent too much time playing up the character for kids today.

Awkwardly dropping his arms to his side, smile drooping, he cleared his throat. “ Yeah, uh, what I mean to say is that even if someone tried to start something I'll be fine! ”

Rolling her eyes at them as they are exhausting to listen too and she wasn't even going to bother to hide it. "Wow," Zaya's tone flat,"Did you rehearse that, or does it come out naturally when you're trying too hard?" "And for the record," she adds in an almost low whisper ."Tigers don't need to change their stripes when they're already at the top of the food chain." Zaya starts to move. Just circling. Slow enough to seem intentional. Casual enough to pretend that she isn't. A half-step around him. Then another. Something so simple that she can make him feel uneasy. "But I am being nice," Zaya speaks through gritted teeth. Randomly, her gaze went to a random crew member offering a wink and thumbs up. See? Meaningless interaction with validation that would be blastered on AlterEgo. A selfless act by all means.

Being so close to Ajay, one would think she would catch it. The blush crept up on his cheeks. A forfeit to any denial that he actually enjoys this close proximity whilst she loaths. Yet that is not the red her eyes are drawn too. Zaya catches it before she meant to, as her gaze is glaring at his sneakers. Black bleeding into red, a soft gradient like something burning bright. Her tongue clicks against her teeth. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The fucking marketing team! "For fuck's sakes!" Flare swore under hear breath.

Now that she’s seen it, she can’t unsee it. Like they were already starting to stitch them both together, thread by thread. One day it would be matching colours here to coordinating details. Until it was no longer a coincidence, oh no it became a concept.  

Countless times, they had pushed the idea of them working closely together. The aesthetic. The branding. How their visuals together would eat. To the point that their emojis paired up just a little too well. She pushed back every time. No way would her image rely on another. No fucking away. Especially fucking Phoenix.  After all red was hers. Heat? Check. Temper? Check? Something dangerous if someone got too close?  Double check! Hot? Also check. Okay, sure, she didn’t own the colour, not really. If anyone did that, it kinda made sense for Trix with her powers literally being blood and bite with the rage, saying things that people were not ballsy enough to say out loud. At least that made sense. At least it was honest!  But them? Her and Phoenix? Nope. No fucking away. Something about it felt forced, like trying to light a flame when there is nothing but smoke.  The thing that pissed her off the most was how easily everyone bought into it. How they reduced them into something literal like that bullshit with fire and wings, the only thing that matched was the rebirth element. Their name was an idea more than a thing. The marketing idiots couldn’t just pin down and pair them off because they looked good on a poster. Her blood boiled more. Not because it was implied about the visuals. Oh no because they didn’t understand a single thing beyond that.

Not even bothering to look up at her, Ajay responded flippantly, their fingers worrying at a loose thread, “ Nope, straight from the dome, that one. ”

“ And it’s not too hard. ” Lifting their other hand to tap their temple they continued. “ Stream of conscious, really. You elicit a certain type of response for me, I suppose. ”

They cringed internally after their brain caught up with the words that had tumbled out of their mouth — unintended innuendos they hoped she wouldn’t immediately jump on.

Deciding to keep their head down in the case they gave something away in their expression, they felt a shift in the air behind them. Surprised, they looked up at the mirror in time to see Zaya’s reflection give someone a thumbs up. Ajay’s face scrunched up in irritation — ‘ What the hell was that about ? ’

Was she playing some sort of prank on him? Surely not. Surely she was mature enough not to act like some sort of high school bully… right?

Returning their gaze to the the now frayed edge of their robe, they pulled on the initial thread, unraveling more strings in a slow, satisfying drag. They could feel her crowding behind them, the sound of her breathing close.

“ This is you being nice ? ” They said in disbelief, a single puff of mocking laughter escaping their lips. “ If this is your attempt at being nice then— ”

Sudden outbursts from Flare were not so uncommon that Ajay was shocked by them anymore — but the genuine indignation in her voice surprised them into momentary speechlessness. Shifting their attention back to her reflection in the mirror, they realized she was not looking at them — not their face at least, her attention was on something lower.

Their eyes flicked down to their own body where they discovered that the robe had fallen slightly open. Hurriedly, they moved to cover back up, arms crossing over their chest to ensure the garment would remain closed.

Returning their gaze to her reflection, Ajay eyebrows furrow in annoyed confusion as they watched her crowd closer to them.

They were about to to ask what the hell her problem was but the words died on their lips as she began to undo her robe. Alarmed, Ajay instinctively closed their eyes and jerked their head to the side and down. In the next millisecond, immediate mortification. A full-body cringe shriving their life force from the inside out.

Zaya was saying something about taking someone out of their misery and they hoped she was referring to them. If there was anyone who could kill them for good it was probably her

The sweet release of death never came, she was still talking — maybe she didn’t notice? Maybe they had misjudged her this whole time and she was actually a saint reincarnated?

Completely demoralized and finally willing to admit defeat, they lifted their head to give her their full attention only to be betrayed by their own body again; wave of traitorous heat blooming across their face and ears as they examined her appearance.

It took them longer than they’d like to admit to notice that she was wearing the exact same outfit they were. But in red and sans the stupid asymmetrical legging and the shorts they had to beg Scotty for.

They only managed to catch the tail end of what Zaya was saying and a part of them was itching to snap back with an equally rude retort; but the other half was tired. Spiritually browbeaten by self-induced humiliation that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about.

Miserably, they lifted themself out of their chair and shrugged off their robe before following after her, dragging their feet like a man heading to the gallows. Unenthusiastic, but resigned to their fate.

“ Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say ma’am. ” They muttered under their breath dejectedly.

“ Let’s just get this over with. ”

Sonny doesn't do Prospect Park, or the boroughs of Liberty Glens. Unless it’s some charity benefit where SOMA gets a nice tax write-off and a glossy photo op in Fortune. But he's here, waiting on a date. One of those heiress-slash-influencer hybrids. Hotel dynasty? Airline lineage? Supermarket empire? It's not a big deal, she's the type of rich that wants to come off as #relatable for her travel vlog, and judging by her follower count, the masses eat that shit up. Central Park would've a much superior choice for optics, but it's her 'gram, not his.

This date better be worth his time, from her social resume, she's a potential plus-one for the coronation party. Sonu Kintan Naik as SOMA’s new acting CEO. Sounds great. The family meeting is in a week, and since none of his siblings have made any impact, the Board has no choice; the position’s good as his… Just until Dad’s feeling better, of course.

Sonny hopes the old man wakes up. Really.

Sunglasses readjusted, Sonny scans the park but Prospect Park is sad. Their trees are so filler, NPC vibes. Oak? Elm? No rainbow eucalyptus or dragon’s blood trees? What is this, a place for—oh, right. Yes, it was, wasn’t it. He bites down on the sneer — no one here knows him anyway. Average Joes and Janes. Flies buzzing around their own trash, happy to be there. But not Sonny, he'd never settle for anything less than what he's worth. That's why Sonny’s the Guy. With the power, the capital, the respect, the—

Shit, wait, fuck. Flowers. He doesn’t have flowers. His Rolex tells him his date’s minutes away. There isn’t a flower shop or even a cart in sight, because fuck Prospect Park! His heartbeat careens off the edge and Sonny hasn’t felt blood pumping like that in ages, that insistent, abnormal thrumming and beating against the inside of his skin, micro-bubbling in his blood starting to float back up into his conscious thought… “Relax, Sonny. Don’t mutate. Don’t blow it. Don’t fuck the optics, like Dad always says,” he mutters to himself, patting down his expensive Kiton suit.

Eyes dart. The carousel. There's some BYOH worker handing out freebies to kids. Flowers. Actual flowers. Kicking himself off the bench, Sonny slides into line behind parents and their sticky‑fingered spawn. When it’s his turn, he doesn’t bother with pleasantries. That small talk shit is for people who lack everything else.

Joaquin had never had the opportunity to meet the any of the Naiks before, obviously, given how far apart their world were — but he’d heard many good things about the patriarch, Kintan, and seen the faces of his children on the tabloids he’d skim through while waiting for his turn at the checkout lane at the Gristedes near his apartment. He had assumed, perhaps naively, that the apple must not fall far away from the tree and that a lot of the rumors on those pages had been completely overblown or at the very least, heavily editorialized; reality, though, often times did not match with his idealistic worldview.

The smile on Joaquin’s face dimmed the moment he got a better look at the expression on the Naik heir’s face and only continued on its downward trajectory with every impertinent word that left his mouth.

The other man — ‘Sunny ? ’ — was talking to him as if he was beneath him, someone inherently lesser, like the way his father sometimes did with the housekeepers back home. Had Sonu confused him for someone who worked at Soma, perhaps? But weren’t they all like family or something? Shouldn’t he know their faces? Joaquin had known all the names of the staff at his father’s estate before he left, and he was certain he would recognize each and everyone of them if he ever saw them again. He had been closer to some of them that he had ever been to—

Joaquin realized belatedly that that he had no idea what kind of expression was currently on his face. Pressing his lips together, he tried to school his features to something more neutral, briefly making eye contact with some of the faces in the crowd that were now staring.

At the ' chop-chop ,' Joaquin’s confused astonishment flipped over to irritation. Sunny Naik was not someone he ever wanted to be friends with. Ever. Unless he actively made the choice to make changes in his behavior and endeavored to be a better person to those around him.

Clearing his throat, he said in a tone he hoped was stern but did not give away how annoyed he was becoming. “ Yeah, so, actually, the flowers aren’t free, they’re for my friends. I paid for them with my own money and I don’t want to give you any. Thank you. ” The money actually wasn’t technically his, if they were splitting hairs. But Sunny didn’t need to know that and Ronnie didn’t care what he did with it.

˗ˏˋ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ˎˊ˗who: flare & fucking phoenix [ @mincedoaths ] ˗ˏˋ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ˎˊ˗where: valerian tower, photoshoot spaces , manhattan, nkc ˗ˏˋ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ˎˊ˗when:  scheduled day of shoot

Any trace of the scruffy teen she once was had been carefully tucked away. Long are the days of her showing up with tangled hair, half-tied up, chipped and bitten down to nothing nails with clothes thrown on without a second thought. Back then, everything was about rushing and getting shit done. However, now gone was the unruly frizz and the nails that never known cuticle care. In her place sat someone more polished than the person Zaya imagined herself to be. Under the harsh glow of the lights, each detail has been throughout out. From each strand of hair smoothed out perfectly with every angel considered. She sat their composed. Her fists clenched a little as this was a space she hated being in but at the same time she had carved her way into it. Piece by piece. Each choice was deliberate in the way she held herself to the way she allowed herself to be seen. The team knew her brief, makeup was to be minimal. All her scars and scratches were to remain untouched as they were trophies of her hard work and dedication to be her. Flare didn't do sexy. She did serious. She did scary. She did intimidating. After all it was about her branding right? Maybe she hadn't out grown her old self. Maybe she had rebuilt it? Waving her hands to the team,"Cheers, looks good. Thank you." Of course, Flare thanks them. Sure she was known to being rude but not that fucking rude! She waves them away straightening up in her seat. A dressing gown draped on her body with her branding stitched cleanly into the fabric from a previous collaboration she was apart of. Just another once of her true successes. Beneath it, hidden from view was the kit she picked out for the shoot, chosen by herself, approved by every other Tom, Dick and Harry. She knew that she would blow them away in this shoot. How could she not?

Sitting almost motionless in their assigned director's style chair, Ajay allows Hair and Makeup to fuss and primp him as they see fit. Wordlessly following any command they give and nodding blankly anytime they as him a direct question.

His eyes are focused on a random spot in the distance, mind actively in what could only be described as a “rage coma” ; replaying the short — but miserable — briefing he had gotten from one Myles “Scotty” Prescott.

At some point, they realize they’ve been left alone and finally lift their eyes to look at the mirror. Half of their hair has been slicked back close to their head, the rest messily coiffed so a few strands fall into their face, giving the appearance that he might have combed back sweat-drenched hair. Scoffing at the manufactured dishevelment, their eyes trail down towards their body wrapped in an Under Armour branded robe. Subconsciously, they lift their hands that were death gripping the handles of their chair to cross their arms over their chest.

The outfit beneath the robe was not something they’d ever pick for themselves — showing off parts of a body they were still getting comfortable in at thirty-five. They had expected and accepted that they’d be ask to wear something tight and form-fitting but not something quite so… revealing. x x x x

They had said as much in the meeting with Scotty, voicing their discomfort the second they had seen the proposed outfit — but they had been met with a deep sigh and upturned furrowed brows. “ I understand that this is outside your comfort level, Ajay — but what would you like me to say to the shareholders? That the Ace they invested millions in is suddenly too fragile for this one photoshoot? C’mon, you’re better than that! ”

Simpering, Prescott had placed a hand on their shoulder and continued, “ Besides, I’m sure your mother will love seeing you on the billboards! She seemed so worried about you the last time we spoke… ”

Ajay had only been able to blink up at him in surprised, mouth slightly agape, effectively muzzled at the mention of their mother. Scotty had more to say but they couldn’t hear it over the ringing in their ears.

In the makeup booth, Ajay made eye contact with the person in the mirror, uncrossing their arms to slightly part open the robe. Looking down at the body, they wonder what their mother would say. Knowing his mother she would probably click her tongue and ask if he was sure he was eating enough even though she often joked that his stomach was bottomless pit. He just struggled to keep any of the weight with his power.

At thirty-five, they’re just barely bulkier than they were at nineteen. Any attempt at building muscle was immediately nullified by his permutation. He surmised that the only reason there was any additional mass on his body was because he had suffered some other greater injury that took precedence to microtears in his muscle fibers.

Flicking his eyes up to study his face — enhanced with makeup to give him a warm, dew sheen — he was lucky his power didn’t stop him from aging, but he supposed the beard helped. Lifting a hand up to his chin, he gently tugged at the hair there and tried for a smile. The person in the mirror stared blankly back.

He’s pulled from his reverie by the sound of someone stomping over.

Looking up from where they’re sitting, the first thing Ajay notices is just how close Zaya’s had gotten to them, the second — annoyingly — is how beautiful she is.

They feel a traitorous flush spread across their cheeks and the tips of their ears and quickly turn away, hoping that she didn’t notice — or at the very least, that’s she’s gotten so used to that sort of reaction from everyone around her that she won’t bother to mention it.

They briefly consider saying some sort of rude comment back about Flare’s looks but they still feel the stinging nettles of the heat that bloomed across their face at her closeness. It’s not like it would earn him anything more than a bark of laughter from the older woman.

In retrospect, he should have known it would be her who would be his “co-star” for this campaign. Valerian had an abundance of self-destructive freaks they could pick from to fit the Durapeak® brand identity but even he could acknowledge the stroke of marketing genius in pairing off ‘Phoenix’ with ‘Flare’. As much as he would have preferred to see Trixie as he found her much more tolerable, ‘Sangrienta’ didn’t have the same obvious symbolic parallelism.

" Didn't peg you as the type to talk down on the efforts of regular-everyday people, Zaya, but I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. Tiger can't change their stripes and all that, 'specially not at your age. "