the things we have to live with

“I— Happy Holidays? Try not to look too disappointed. At least the bow is cute.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re feeling blue. I hear writers write what they feel. That’s when they write some of their best stuff,” she spoke quietly, reaching for her shot, but not taking it. “People are always leaving. I’m staring to think it’s normal. Fuck other people and how they look at you. Their judgments don’t mean shit.” What she didn’t add was that it only mattered how you looked at yourself because she didn’t have a very high opinion of her own self these days and didn’t want to make herself out to be more of a hypocrite. “No. They’re the filth.” She didn’t know what was wrong with Rowan to make her feel such a way and she couldn’t bring herself to ask because she wouldn’t know how to comfort the other. 

“That’s exactly why,” Rowan let out a sigh, her index going over the rim of her glass briefly before lifting her gaze to meet Viktoriya’s. “I think it’s mostly because thy don’t know how to handle it. They don’t understand,” her head shook briefly, hoping that her explanation somehow made sense. At least she knew it was her own fault. If she was them, she probably would have left as well. “The times I’ve thought of leaving this place...” she paused briefly, taking a shot. “It’s funny. I just never seem able to do it despite the fact how much shit has happened to me here.”

“Rough day?” 

“You could say that.”

“Swallow,” Nikki replied simply, mouth breaking into a matching grin. She took one gingerly between her fingers, then extended it toward the woman; an offering. 

With a tiny smile, the brunette took it from Nikki before popping it into her mouth and swallowing harshly. “How long?” Rowan inquired, her head resting in her hand. “How long till it kicks in?”

“I clearly need to work on my joke-telling skills.” 

“Nah, you’re fine. I’m just.. kind of out of it.”

“What kind of music do you play? You strike me as soft rock… or indie.– Am I completely off base there?” She laughed, but the sound was cracked because of the liquor. She finished off her glass, this time waving her bartender down for a round of shots instead. Shots were quicker, more satisfactory. “Well, fuck him, whoever he is,” Vik nodded, shoving one of the shots in Rowan’s direction once they were placed in front of them. “Fuck wankers, man. They’re all just jealous.” 

“Indie, soul, blues. Depends on what I write about honestly, lately it’s mostly blues,” the brunette shrugged heavily, slamming back the shot Vik pushed towards her just a moment ago. “Most people are assholes. They always leave or blame me. I’ve seen how they look at me,” her nose scrunched in disgust. “Filth.” She was not sure if that comment would be her own thoughts, or of those who seemed to judge her.

“It was a joke.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch on.”

Excerpt from the book I’ll never write #23 (via fleurdelecours)

“Usually am. It can be a curse.” 

“Seems like a horrible thing.”

Nikki nodded. “I’m very good at it,” she lilted, wrapping the bag in her palm. She threw a half-hearted wink. “Thank private primary school.” 

“Thank you, private primary school,” Rowan gave a small nod, lips curving into a smile. “So, do I swallow or let it dissolve or.. what?”It was obvious she was a stranger to such substances, but in that particular moment it was only about getting her mind of things.