everything changes

Time stands still in grief, though it marches ever forward regardless. Your life moves forward, even if another’s no longer does. There is the initial death, and then more minute ones as reality continues to strike over and over. One year becomes two, becomes three, becomes eight. There have been several times Stella had lifted a phone to share exciting news, and punched in the number by heart, only to be met with the harsh sting of a dial tone and silence instead of mirth-filled laughter and well wishes. Somehow, that made him feel even further away. Things can not simply return to normal after a loss has happened, but rather a new normal is created. There is no predetermined time to grieve, and any such notions are so entirely wrong. Stella has bloomed in the aftermath of her downward spiral, but there are days she would give it all up just to go back for one more moment. There are days when the charm and vigor she inherited have fled her. There are days when it feels like her life has bled out and an unsettling void has taken its place. She felt as drained as the whiskey glass when it vanished from her hand. She was emptier than it became in a matter of seconds, though she wanted nothing more than the familiar burn to choke out the sob trapped in her throat. Sid was far from cute – that was far too diminutive for such a lethal countenance and intoxicating presence. Stella was quick to finally close the gap she had placed between them. She finally surrendered to the artist, ready to clash and carve hips like they were creating a masterpiece. Her hand gently wove through Sid’s hair as Stella bore it all, and would quite literally soon enough. 

I’ll be seeing you In all the old familiar places That this heart of mine embraces

The floaty, nostalgic notes had Stella tense up, though she tried to keep the recoil as imperceptible as possible beneath Sid’s touch. Her hand traveled lower to land in the small of the artist’s back and came to rest with a slight, directional pull. Closer. So much closer, and forward. Stella took a half step backward, though she yearned to lurch and cut off Billie Holiday unceremoniously. It was a slow retreat with each word bubbling up a memory of two other voices singing along, yet one had been silenced far too long ago. The vocals were more haunting yet tangible than her grandfather ever would be, and tonight, Stella would prefer to dance with the beauty in her arms and not with the ghosts in her head. 

I’ll be seeing you In every lovely summer’s day

“In everything that’s light and gay,” Stella parted long enough to dramatize and echo before letting both voices fall silent. She aimed a smile in Sid’s direction though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. A blind finger was fumbling to change the song while teary eyes averted from the green pair before her, though Stella’s touch soon found Sidney once more. “Things just caught me off guard,” she offered, not quite an apology. One wasn’t necessary and one small bump in the road should not derail an entire evening. The past weeks held missed connections and blatant detours, though there was only one destination for two bodies. The bedroom. She pressed herself against the artist and pivoted them smoothly in that direction. “Where were we?” Her fingers traced Sid’s jawline before she let her mouth go back to saying things unsaid as she made a step to continue the night forward. 

Send Stella a sex playlist. 

She’d surely forget but it was the only thing in her head as the lightest jazz piano played for them. It reminded her of Casablanca, a cinematic bore that she hadn’t seen in years though Stella would have rivaled that leading lady with ease. Her features were so soft and her eyes were dark and utterly enticing. Of all the bars in all of Bellevue Stella had walked into the one she liked to frequent. Sid was no Rick, she enjoyed feigned romance and only ever replicated what she’d seen before, holding doors, buying drinks and remaining suave. No man, woman or person in between had ever had Sid James on a date, no-one had ever shown her romance and thusly it was not for her to have. Imitation was the form she cared to enjoy, knowing her own limitations. Change came so easily to her in other avenues but breaking personal rules she’d made in her youth proved near impossible for her. 

She needs a better playlist. 

Distracted by that vibrato voice she lost any train of thought she had, not that there was much to be thought about outside of Stella. 

Sid could only roll her eyes at the woman’s antics, always so strangely endeared by her mannerisms. So many quirks that even the less observant would note as entirely Stella Rosenthal-esque. Her smile offered so much warmth and the artist intended to bathe and bake herself in its glow. Though there was a hint of something that Sid passed over entirely, her eyes growing glassy. Stella was far in a way more emotionally intelligent than Sid would ever be, taking time to cry and caring for other people, it was a world that the tattoo artist had reserved the right to know nothing of. It was only an offbeat of something so she didn’t think to linger or pay it much mind. Perhaps Stella’s own questionable foreplay playlist was placing her in amongst her feelings, music did tend to do that to the non-stoic folk who Sid found to be entirely inscrutable. 

“Light and gay?” Her voice was a warning growl against Stella’s lips, the setup to a joke but her desirous streak thought less of clever wordplay and more of shedding layers. “You really set yourself...” Sid took the opportunity to pick the blonde up, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another around thighs to support her. “Up sometimes.” It wasn’t true, but it was absolutely true in that moment. There was an element of Sid letting her want build so voracious that she would have taken anything the conservator had to say just to twist it to suit. All she wanted was to be wrapped up in sheets while getting a chance to familiarize herself once more with a truly unforgettable body. She’d never be able to say something like that aloud however, Stella being so much more than a body and a set of luxurious sheets. But that made little difference in the throes of things she supposed, pleasure was satiating and her hunger had been undeniable. 

The taller of the two changed their scenery, from one manicured room to the other; a bedroom that had always served them well. Sid laid Stella onto her bed gently, lips still against hers, knowing that for the rest of the evening she’d be dedicated to being as close to the woman as she was let. 

He looked at Sid and looked over at the bike. Clearly, there were no serious injuries. “Everything alright?” Coop replied, unsure of what else he could say. There was a lot going through his mind, everything that Stella had told him and his own protective nature. He made his way down to the curb and crossed his legs. “Y’know smokin’ kills,” he commented, sure that she had heard these comments before. “D’you need anything? A ride or just someone to walk home with you?”

“Fuckin’ potholes.” Sid said as she glanced to her bike, the front tire slumped sadly. It felt like Cooper wished to be a barman and offer his non-judgemental ear but Sid was so much more interested in getting a drink. She took a drag off her cigarette and couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. “So does livin’, Coop.” It irked her but she never did have a leg to stand on when defending smoking and she wasn’t about to try. Sid didn’t have the energy nor the need to explain anything she did to anyone else, fully grown and unto herself always. “Don’t need anything but I’ll probably have to walk home sometime if you’re heading that way.” 

“Do you see that as a good or a bad thing?” Nathan wondered out loud, genuinely interested in her answer. “I mean, change can be good, right? It’s why I came here. Get a change of scenery…new people,” he trailed off. It hadn’t come easy to him, the realization that maybe moving away again would be better for him after all, especially during the first months of navigating his new surroundings. Once their glasses had clinked, he finished his drink as well, feeling the comforting buzz spread through his body and mind. Nathan wasn’t sure what it was that prompted him to share some of his deeper thoughts with Sid but here he was, for once not overthinking but allowing himself to be real.

His brows furrowed deeply when Sid continued talking. The words hit him and he wondered if that was true. Was he putting a timer on himself? He probably was. Probably used to all his life. “People don’t usually become concert pianists at thirty-three,” the male said, shrugging. Nathan had long given up on that dream but he still worked on himself every day and had made it his goal to continue practicing every day, even if that meant only playing one song. He hummed in understanding as she continued. “Yeah, of course. It’s an ever evolving kinda deal and you wanna keep creating. That makes perfect sense,” he told her with a small smile. A laugh escaped him at Sid’s teasing question and he was quick to shake his head. “I have a feeling that people don’t usually forget someone like you,” Nathan added, grinning. “Yeah…it is nice. A pretty foreign feeling but not unpleasant.”

“Good thing. I don’t know any different and I’m not interested in thinking of all those what-ifs that don’t change anything.” Sid was never interested in wasting her time on scenarios that would never happen. She didn’t care for love and was never stuck harboring feelings or resentment or wondering whether or not things would work out. Sid James simply did not exist in that world. And that of her future and her career and missed opportunities, the moment she missed them was the last time she offered them thought. “If you’ve got any kind of creative bone in your body you need to move around or at the very least travel. The more you see the more get to know that part of yourself. Get in tune with whatever your art is and get a handle on your voice, you know?” Anyone could walk down the street and think they spot something that sticks out or speaks to them but an artist or a musician attempts to capture and convey the same feelings felt, that was the difference. It’s not just about photographing the oddity found, its the way in which its photographed is the most important part. 

“People don’t usually go to the moon but it happens. As soon as you believe you can there’s not a fuckin’ person in this world that’ll stop you. If you don’t think you can do it or you go around thinking that thirty-three year olds have no business being concert pianist then you’re going to want to find yourself a new dream, my guy.” Sid was made of self-belief and the will to follow through, that was it. There was nothing more and nothing less than utter determination to dedicate every day to herself and to her career. That wasn’t to say there weren’t days dedicated to being hungover, but even though that grogginess she’d pull herself up and out because she knew that she needed to. There was no one else fighting for her, no one else caring whether she succeeded or not. All she could think was that he was so easy to talk to, that her words seemed to flow so freely but perhaps the whiskey had helped loosen her tongue. “I hope they don’t, but if they do, that’s just their loss.” 

Landon: am i? i'm pretty sure i'm always very certain of everything i say.

Landon: this is why you're the mean one.

Landon: oh fuck yes, i thought you'd never ask. took you long enough.

Sid: you're a fucking goof

Sid: i know i'm the mean one, at least i know what i am

“Wasn’t lookin’ to sit in the shade.” The tattoo artist quipped, feeling someone standing over her. The sun had set hours ago but she’d found it hard. The past week had been nothing but work and avoidance and so her observance and her patience had both worn thin. 

To an outsider’s eyes, Stella had barely lasted one drink before slipping out into the night and into a frenzied, frantic hunger hidden amongst the blonde’s stealthier movements and the delicate intwining of fingers. She managed to capture both energies – a fervent desire for ruination and a coy detachment of nonchalance. One whiskey paled in comparison of the intoxicating Sidney James, though Stella boasted ownership of her own type of beguiling spirit. The two offered smooth words and lines, chased with a knowing look from Stella’s honeyed hues that slipped so easily from mischief to something more demure. Several encounters have been building up for the night’s festivities when she chose this evening to lure the artist into her clutches. Stella offered a rare glimpse into the magnitudes that lurked within, though few had ever been allowed to dive in deep. Sid was offered warm waters, dotted with treasures swept in from a rare storm of the curator’s emotions. Stella had crafted herself to be akin to a most mesmerizing tide pool while the depths remained uncharted. She was where sea and land met - a steady, rocky formation of kindness and strength, yet fluid and endless in other ways. Footing at times could be unsteady when choppier waters pulled shifting sands away from the shore, swirling and vexatious. The storms were mostly internal yet they churned up new whimsies within the surprisingly mercurial beauty. Stella clung to unexpected surfaces like a starfish, yet she could be as evasive as an octopus when she felt the need to be. 

A storm had been brewing, but Stella angled her eyes upwards in a quiet plea of assistance to stave it off for one final evening. She had teased and tortured them both as she set off into the night linked on the arm of another the last after delivering the final blow of an evening in the form of a chaste peck on the cheek the last few times they had danced so close to the edge. It was something so small and flippant, yet daringly brash in the peripheral of different partners. She slithered down the hall and basked in the knowledge she would soon be coiled around her prey. The door to her bedroom closed with a soft click, though her eyes lingered upon the still image. There were occasions when another form followed suit, choosing to cut the superfluous but rewarding image Stella was painting for the night. It was that much sweeter to unfold her slowly, to strip away the delicate silk, to slip a finger beneath a strap binding the beauty from freedom. She was no damsel in distress, but she would give the chivalrous Sid the honor of slaying the tangle of silk and lace. An earring was being settled into a lobe when her eyes lifted to angry, red reflection in the mirror. The hour on the clock had ticked past and brought forth the scathing reminder of her grandfather’s passing as the date had faded from one to the next. The pang in her heart throbbed as she lifted a picture frame to peer down upon it. Eyes so much like her own reflected back, and a single, cinematic tear welled up and rolled down her cheek as she settled the memory face down upon her nightstand. Stella launched herself back into the living room and gravitated over to the waiting tumbler. A single finger was extended toward the balcony before a flat palm came to rest over her heart before arcing in a circular motion. One moment, please. The whiskey was downed past lips threatening to coil into a grimace, though Stella solved that problem by pouring three more fingers worth. She gave a small tap upon the glass door of the balcony as she slunk past. She would not let her evening be derailed by her grief, and most certainly not when such a distraction was at the ready. Stella turned on some music as she turned her attention back to Sidney. She was ready to bury her ache further down for later, and her head into one tattooed neck. “Get your cute self over here, or so help me God.”

In choppy and cold water its always advised to never try to fight the current, it burns energy and leaves very little hope of survival. In warm shallows, Sid tended to do the very same not out of any kind of survival instinct, but rather an observant understanding that the ripples she sent out would keep her afloat. Stella was a curator and managed her energy, a measured and premeditated young siren, ready to drown. Sid played no games with her level of investment, it was lax and informal which differed greatly from Stella’s regality and her elegant ways of enchantment. She seemed to ebb in off a breeze and sweep all that she wished out with her tide. Sometimes Sid was chosen and sometimes she wasn’t, there was no mistaking Stella’s intent, her attention always directed so intentionally. The artist had not mastered that skill, she a cultureless magpie flitting to whatever and whoever shone the brightest. It was no coincidence that when sharing a room with Stella all of her attention usually funneled towards the blonde, reciprocated or not. It was fun to be so drawn in by someone, she felt like a child experiencing waves for the first time, the undertow dangerous but still eliciting giddy and cheerful laughter. She played in the waves and found her way to her back where she floated contently in the shallows. Sid was in the in-between again, steps away from land and steps away from an abyss. It wasn’t about picking either side, it was flowing between the two, stretching her legs in the sand of others and then wading out sea again. Not a voyager or a soon to be drowned sailor, a tourist, just relaxing in amongst the sights. 

Not that Ophelia wasn’t illuminating company, but her mother just had a tendency to steal the show. When she noticed movement inside she made no move to follow it, instead she stood in the stillness of the balcony and watched. Even just to watch her was a pleasure, though perhaps the whiskey added to the way she seemed to glide from room to room. The artist would never be able to deny her beauty. Most real authentic beautys’ were mean or at the very least vain and that was something to take away from their aesthetic but Stella was good, thoroughly and strangely good. Sid’s eyes watched Stella’s dainty and dangerous fingers dance around her chest and surely that was a signal to ravish her. In truth, she knew she was signing she just didn’t have a clue what the woman was saying. Her talent of reading hands was hit and miss at the best of times and especially when Stella had the figure of a dancer she found it hard to concentrate on the very specialized nuance of sign language. Sid took another drag of her cigarette and it burned itself right down to the filter, the intake of breath so great when taking in such a mesmerizing thing. The tap on the glass caused a knee-jerk reaction, her thumb and forefinger instantly flicking the butt out off the balcony into the Bellevue night. “Oaf, your mom’s calling you.” They did enjoy their games and Sid offered her words with a fond grin, knowing their antics had reached a climax. “I know you weren’t trying to call me cute.” The artist shot at the blonde as she crossed over the threshold back into the apartment. Her strides were powerful and fluid, her glass laid to rest on the nearest side table before she found herself a breath away from the woman she wished to devour. Sid spotted the glass in Stella’s hand and only saw it as an obstacle to be overcome. Her hand came to procure it and she sipped deeply before repeating her actions and setting it down carelessly. “God’s not going to help you tonight.” The artist was now focused, the woman in front of her no longer encumbered by anything to stop her. “Not now anyway.” Her hands found familiar hips, slender and lithe and terribly tempting. But the time for being tempted and teased was over, it was time to act on their little game and give in to each other. In the land of Gods and monsters, Sid was something of a hybrid. She was animalistic and experienced, leading to why one of her hands had left Stella’s hip and grasped her jaw, fingertips indenting the blonde’s rosy cheeks. Finally, to begin their evening she kissed her, an intense embrace to remind them both how long they’d gone without each other. 

At Sidney’s comment about what else she could handle, Salem almost spat out some of the drink that she’d just put in her mouth. “Well, well. Maybe this night will get interesting after all. Maybe you will be able to make me forget about this horrible day.” Salem decided licking her lips absentmindedly as she finished her drink. Nodding, the detective took on of the shots of tequila in hand and raised the glass to Sidney. “Here’s to turning my night around.” Salem stated and took the shot with ease. She didn’t even use salt or a chaser. Maybe that would look like she drank a lot, but she didn’t. Well, not much more than anyone else she knew. “I am. Shall we go then?” Salem asked holding out her arm for the other woman to take. 

Once recognition kicked in, or more so, when Zeke focused on whom caused the interruption, he relaxed. There were to be no grumbles under his breath over having to keep the flask in his pocket, not when Sid was around. “Depends,” he answered, eyes following her movements once she sat and joined him in smoking. “You plannin’ on joining me at Aces?” A bit of a smirk appeared, while foreign to most, it was fairly common when in the company of someone he considered loosely a friend. He was always scouting her, throwing hints and blatant offers for her to bring her talents to his tattoo parlor. Not only was her talent and clientele wanted, but so was her company. When her eyes moved to his sketchbook though he closed it and moved it to rest on the other side of him. “You just barely lit up that smoke, we haven’t even cracked into the alcohol, and you’re already trying to get a peek. If you want to do a share time then you know how it goes——the younger and better looking always go first.”

Landon: don't question it okay. just say "ok, you're right" don't make me explain.

Landon: look, there's a difference between being mean and being honest and i'm just an honesty guy.

Landon: shhhhhhhh, it's okay.

Sidney: ok, you're confused

Sidney: i'm mean and honest, you are no angel.

Landon: wow, guess i know how you're sex life is doing and by that i mean, it's not doing so well.

Landon: i was very pleasant about it. i don't know what you're talking about? i'm practically an angel. ask anyone.

Landon: i mean... maybe but at least i'd be able to say that i could preform any and all kinks. including, ass kissing.

Sidney: and how do you figure that?

Sidney: anyone? you really are funny when you want to be landy. if i went asking anyone i'm sure most would plead the 5th

Landon: don't kink shame me.

Landon: i'm out to get myself, obviously.

Landon: you'd need me. stop lying to yourself. i'd be a very key component to your ability to pimp.

Sidney: ass kissing isnt a kink you novice

Sidney: and that is why i suggested a date day but you had to be an asshole about it

LANDON: i know, you don't have to kiss my ass.

LANDON: i've always seen hurt in my future, it's called life so your threat doesn't scare me.

LANDON: well, for starters i'm crushing your dreams of becoming a successful pimp.

Sidney: knowing you you'd be into it

Sidney: jfc why do you have to say things like that? no one is out to get you

Salem: If you really thought that I was the lucky one you wouldn't be basically throwing yourself at me babe

Landon: it's cause i don't use it! it all come from my own brain because i'm fucking original.

Landon: but making you uncomfortable is entertaining.

Landon: at least you know i would make it big because i am talented but i happen to like crushing your dreams. it's like oxygen to me.

Sidney: yes you are definitely one of a kind

Sidney: making me uncomfortable means a future world of hurt for you, i hope you know that

Landon: i'm just that smart .............. anyways.

Landon: you know what? i'm coming around to it. i always knew you loved me.

Landon: wow, you'd pimp me out and expect a percentage??? i think you're the fucking joke, you fucking joke.

Sidney: i surprised your autofill has the word smart floating around

Sidney: don't do this, don't go making it weird

Landon: ummmm obviously at this point we're all scientific. but especially me.

Landon: ew, that was gross. never do that again.

Landon: like i said, prostitution is a team sport. but ok, as long as you buy the liquor, i guess you can go on a day date with me.

Sidney: i feel like you just let your autofill run wild sometimes

Sidney: i'm actually uncomfortable, don't screenshot that

Landon: even smart people vomit on themselves, sid. it's science.

Landon: what're you trying to say about me then? that i'm tasteless? that's fucking rude. i don't know what i've ever done to you.

Landon: it's not like i'd wanna suck his dick. i'm not really a dick sucking fan but ya' know if we have to go into prostitution to get the job done then we gotta do what we gotta do. where are your morals? jfc.

Sidney: backyard science is still science apparently

Sidney: why would i call you tasteless you backwards bitch. you've never done anything, you're doing great. is that what you needed?