𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑚

Logan’s eyes fall on the ceiling as Sage continues to talk in the background. Un-admittedly, she’s still listening even if she doesn’t reply. At this point the party is still raging on as if it just started. The clock is only a few minutes short of midnight, the music downstairs is blasting, and Logan doesn’t have the energy to fight tonight. Whether it’s petty or a full blown argument, she just doesn’t have the energy. As the minutes go by without any pets, the dog moves from the bed to the floor. If it’s panting is any sort of sign, the pup has clearly gotten overheated on top of all those covers. Instead, he wobbles over to the cool tile of the bathroom floor leaving Logan alone in a king size bed. And maybe after a while, the blonde sits up to dig something out of her bag. A joint and a lighter guiding her to another level of relaxation. She’s not always into getting high but when it comes to parties or music festivals, it’s much more favorable. 

So maybe she lit it up and smoked in her friends bedroom. And maybe she offered it to Sage who surprisingly accepted it. Maybe they smoked together and when Logan flopped back on the bed once more— Maybe she left enough space for Sage to sit. And maybe they talked or maybe they didn’t. And maybe Logan didn’t hate it. “I am.” It’s been almost an hour since they’ve really said anything when she suddenly says those two words. Her head lulls to the side totally chilled out. Bright eyes meet Sage’s, her blonde hair falling across the mattress. “Catfish. I mean. I wasn’t gonna do it but they asked and I’m tired of turning down things I want to do because I’m scared.” She answers simply, shrugging her shoulders and returning her gaze to the ceiling. “So I’ve decided to not be scared anymore. Of anything.”

     the last thing in the world she could have predicted happening was logan pulling out a joint, much less inviting sage to smoke it with her. things between them are maybe a little too volatile to consider the act a truce, but it’s something. it would have been easy to make a joke out of it, to poke fun at logan until she got fed up and retracted the offer or left the room altogether. it’s what she would normally do. instead, sage says nothing at all--as curious as she is about logan’s catfish revelation, something makes her keep quiet about it now, accepting the joint with nothing more than a nod. and when logan makes room for her on the bed, it’s still without a word that sage sits down next to her. this neutral ground is precarious and sage is enjoying the company too much to ruin it with her usual confrontational demeanor.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus on the show with Sage right here. Not that Logan is particularly interested in the girl– She isn’t. However, it’s hard to focus on anything when someone won’t stop talking. While the other prattles on about sarcasm and attempts to instigate her, Logan only reaches for the remote to pause it. Too many noises is only going to give her a headache. Her mind is much better with one thing at a time. Perhaps, that’s the reason she doesn’t like parties. Without one main focus, it’s difficult to dart from thing to thing. The music, the people, the food, the conversation she doesn’t care about. It’s all too much. But right here… All she has to do is relax. And for someone whose constantly working, relaxing is a luxury. She’s sure that someone like Sage could never understand that. She’s a party girl. She plays her music during the day and plays even harder at night. But Logan isn’t some A lister or famous musician. She’s a camera operator who takes on a bunch of side jobs to make herself feel useful. She never stops because she’s afraid that if she isn’t useful—

Logan is fine. She couldn’t care less about anything. That was her brand after all. Not giving a shit. And Sage is one of those things she doesn’t care for. “I know what sarcasm is.” She replies bluntly. There’s a brief second where her face softens. There’s no readable expression, but there is a pit in her stomach that says you went too far. Even party girls and assholes have feelings. And a drug problem wasn’t something to joke about, even if that wasn’t her original intention. “I’d say limiting your drug usage has health benefits but I let Elvie and Margo eat nothing but candy all day so I don’t exactly have a leg to stand on.” She says simply, shrugging a bit. There’s a beat of silence where Logan wonders if Sage is going to leave. Then there’s another beat where she realizes she doesn’t really mind either way. For someone who hated her so much, that was actually progress. Not to say she liked the chick. She just didn’t care if she was here. That’s all that was. Flopping back on the bed, her blonde hair sprawls across the mattress, her arms falling open to both of her sides. The dog pokes it’s head up to make sure she’s okay before going back to sleep. “Yeah, well.” Leave it to Sage to say the last thing Logan wants to hear. “I’m replacing Max on one of their episodes so at least I know you won’t be watching.”

     oddly enough, sage doesn’t get anywhere near the reaction she’d anticipated from logan, which throws her for a bit of a loop. there’s no scoffing, no eye rolls, not even a dig about how tragically cliché and predictable she manages to be. in essence, she hasn’t risen to the bait and engaged in ( yet another ) fight that goes nowhere. and that, if nothing else, leads sage to the perplexing realization that something’s different. and it’s different on logan’s end, because she certainly feels the same as she has since that day she’d looked down from her vantage point on stage and seen a cute girl looking back up at her--the same girl who’d then laughed at her for fumbling her words. it’s hard to put her finger on what it is that’s different, though; for one thing, she doesn’t really know logan at all. for another, she’s almost impossible to read. she wonders if perhaps logan’s simply gotten sick of their bickering, and that’s somehow the worst possibility of all. because at least when logan hates her, she’s still feeling something. to become the subject of indifference feels not much different than ceasing to exist entirely. 

the sparkles on her shoes captivate alaska for a few more moments. she’s enthralled with the way they twinkle. her whole apartment was covered in glitter and that’s the way she liked it. the blonde snaps out of her day dreaming and looks at the other. “thank you, sage” she murmured, offering a bright smile. alaska lights up almost immediately. “oh! that sounds fantastic! i’d do such a good job.” 

alissa was one of those children who teachers would call precocious because know - it - all isn’t an acceptable thing for a teacher to call a student, or whatever. she cracked a minuscule grin at sage’s prodding and shook her head. “oh, fuck off. i said that it wasn’t the worst.” not that she could recall having a noteworthy amount of fun on that particular field trip either. jynx stood from her seat as the train screeched to a stop, flicking a few braids over her shoulder and waving at the flustered teenager. “bye.” she returned her attention to sage with a small snort of amusement, following her through the doors and into the bustling, echoing city underground. “what, like a jazzercise move? dude, i hate that. please never mention doing the cyclone to me again.” she was certain that sage would, probably over and over again at least until she had agreed to ride the rollercoaster with her. “i hope so,” jynx mused, “because even though i’d totally give you a kidney and all, there’s no way you’re dragging me back here next weekend. i already have a studio session scheduled, so you’re gonna be on your own if you really wanna see someone eating some swords that badly.”

she knew she existed, she knew this other well off and well loved family existed but marnie refused to acknowledge that existence. if she never even went to see her mother what made any think she wanted any association with her fathers cheating project? she hated her father for doing what he did to their family, she despised her mother for taking her sorrow out on her family. she was disgusted by her brother just abandoning marnie when he didn’t approve of her choices. she hated the idea of family with every single inch of her being. 

she’s sat at the bar, drink in hand. it’s later in the night, she’s finished work and she just needs to wind down. she’s not someone who enjoys silence, she’s not someone who likes being left alone with her thoughts and considering angel was busy and she couldn’t go and stay at her boyfriends place the bar was the next best thing for distraction.  she’s relaxed and loose, just rested on the bar as she talks with her regular bartender and the crowd of people she naturally attracted, a voice echoing over the pounding music. she turns with a small and confused smile, it’s not confusion of someone she doesn’t know approaching her because she’s used to that. no, it’s confusion because she’s never met this girl and yet she’s so oddly familiar.  “uh hi,” she greets giving the girl her attention, green eyes glittering under dull club lighting.  “i am,” nods the blonde furrowing her brows, maybe she was just a fan? it’s not she hasn’t met female porn viewers before, they’re far more common than people assume. but then the girl continues on and she nods slowly again, was she meant to know a sage morrissey?  “have we met?” she asks in curiosity, not trying to be mean but this girl seems to be sure marnie would recognise her.  then three words hit her like a tonne of bricks and you can see the literal colour drain from her cheeks.  “what?” she scoffs. 

     sometimes--usually in the middle of some arbitrary night, when all the old fears and anxieties about her dad come creeping out of her subconscious for no good reason--sage wonders what it must have been like in marnie’s shoes. was she glad their dad left? did she feel lucky, knowing what kind of man he was, or did she feel abandoned? had she ever really even known him? when he’d died, sage and her mom hadn’t learned much about the other family beyond the fact of their existence. there had been some brief conversation at the funeral with marnie’s mom and brother, but even at eight years old sage remembers having felt that asking a lot of questions in front of the casket would have been poor social etiquette. so all she can do now is speculate, and from time to time check up on her estranged half-sister via the miracle of social media.