* 𝕴𝕹 / 𝚘𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜 .

“any chance you have any experience with breaking into someone else’s phone? i may have left my ex a drunkenly embarrassing voicemail that needs to disappear pronto.”

@irvingstarters

❛ gimme it. let me see what i can do, ❜ raphael extends his hand out, her request not even earning a shred of hesitancy from him. however, he does ask an important context question: ❛ wait — do you even have the phone on you ? breaking into a phone is no sweat, but you’re gonna owe me if you need help getting his damn phone in the first place. ❜

she’s  not  sure  if  it’s  because  feelings  in  and  of  themselves  were  hardly  ever  taught  to  be  dealt  with  in  a  healthy  manner,  or  if  devon  is  so  used  to  pushing  them  aside  and  twisting  them  into  the  wrong  way  of  thinking,  but  there’s  always  a  sinking  feeling  in  her  chest.  deep  -  deep  -  deeper  until  she  reaches  rock  bottom  in  the  soles  of  her  feet,  no  way  to  reach  the  shore  of  what  is  the  actual  intent.  she  wonders  if  he  feels  the  same.  they  don’t  talk,  much,  about  their  time  at  home  —–  or  what  used  to  be  home,  though  she’s  not  entirely  sure  what  to  call  it  now.  part  of  her  wishes  he’d  burnt  it  to  the  ground,  ashes  only  to  remain,  then  maybe  they  could  destroy  the  shitty  memories  to  go  with  it.  yelling.  fighting.  screaming.  crying.  it’s  both  distant  and  happened  yesterday,  foggy  in  the  way  you  feel  when  you  wake  up  after  crying  yourself  to  sleep.  devon  pushes  it  down  to  the  bottom  again,  like  all  the  guilt  and  shame  she  feels  for  not  being  the  daughter  her  mother  wanted.  no  one  asks,  she  doesn’t  answer.  it’s  better  that  way.  “you’re  sensitive,  too,”  he’s  not  and  she  knows  it  —  just  messing  with  him  at  this  point  to  try  and  clear  the  weird  tension  she  brought  to  the  conversation.  “you  sound  like  you’re  talkin’  straight  out  of  a  lifetime  movie  right  now.”  it’s  what  she  was  expecting  anyhow,  and  devon  won’t  mention  the  pride  she  feels  in  her  chest  at  the  words.  it’s  not  like  raph  needs  to  know  that  she  craves  validation  more  than  anything  (  he  probably  does  know,  but  that’s  okay,  as  long  as  he  doesn’t  say  it  aloud  )  .  “she’s  not  in  my  head,”  eyes  roll  like  he  just  said  the  stupidest  thing  in  the  world,  “haven’t  thought  ‘bout  her  since  we  left.”  that’s  a  lie  and  they  both  know  it.

Pupils blown to the size of saucers, Frankie had been having his own personal stare off with a jellyfish billowing past gracefully for the last 10 minutes. He didn’t know so much time had gone by, entranced by the creases of blues that cut into his vision, until someone appeared out of the corner of his eye. Usually, this close to closing, no one came to the jellyfish tanks - no one he knew or cared about at least, but Frankie perked up noticeably when he realized who it was, “Hey,” he drawled - it was probably clear that he was incredibly subdued thanks to the joint (or two) he’d smoked before heading to the aquarium, “I didn’t know, uh, you were working today. Would’ve… come say hi. Or something - wanna watch the jellyfish with me?” Turning his attention back to the tank, so close he was almost pressing his face against it, “I’m reading their minds.” @sphyrnidaes​

usually this late at night, esme likes to walk through the aquarium before she heads home. there’s usually no one around, so it’s QUIET — it’s only her and the fish. she’s had a lot to think about the last couple of months, so being able to access the halls of the exhibits really whenever she wants helps her process the decisions she needs to make. also, the aquarium lights and bioluminescence of some of the species possess illuminating the walkways with beautiful, colorful hues is quite calming as well. esme turns the corner that leads into the area with the jellyfish tanks, and she spots a figure almost pressed up to the glass. it kinda startles her, stopping the brunette in her tracks. however, hearing the drawled out greeting eases her nerves. it’s frankie ! ❛ hi, ❜ she gives him a little wave, making her way towards him as he continues to speak. ❛ it’s okay. i got off awhile ago. i’ve just been wanderin’ around, ❜ esme reassures, placing herself right beside him. her nose almost brushes against the glass because of how close she is. she tilts her head to look up at frankie before she asks ❛ oh ? what are they thinking about ? ❜ 

“Damn, yo, fuckin’ cold as hell – jus’, like, callin’ me ugly, right out the gate, fuckin’ shreddin’ my shit to shreds, yo,” Ziggy mocked offence, jaw dropped all the way down to his belly button – he even reached up, closed it like it required manual intervention to fix, some bolt unscrewed like he’d turned into Frankenstein. “Tryna say you wanna run me down, Renesme? Two D my shit? Vroom vroom me, forreal?” For some god forsaken reason, he asked it with his lips ticked in a lopsided smile, somehow managing to make the concept of vehicular manslaughter sound like a sordid, whispered-behind-a-hand, footsie-under-the-table come on. Shifting slowly, he reached up to accept her hand, sneakers suddenly flashing with the step to his feet like a miniature circus had come to town. Hopped up to full stature – an inch below six feet, though he often lied and claimed that last inch, regardless – Ziggy slipped his free hand behind his back, mocking the kind of bow you might spot in a corny Disney classic, her hand still in his grasp. He released it, upon standing straight, using the fact he was stood with legs crossed to aid a swift spin in a circle, whipping back to face her. “Bit of the ol’ fuckin’ razzle dazzle, yo, free of charge – ain’t ever seen slick shit like that, I bet, brain fuckin’ explodin’ in your lil fuckin’ head ‘n’ shit, comin’ outta yo ears.” Reaching up to scratch at his temple, unable to keep still for one fucking second, Ziggy ignored the bloody scrape on his elbow. “Thinkin’ of hirin’ me back – y’know, ice cream parlour. Know my milfs been howlin’, ‘n’ all’a that, heavin’ on all fours like fuckin’, like, them hairball cats, y’know, tryna get my ass back in there, continue the legacy. High in demand, forreal, y’know how it is.” Ziggy sniffed, traded a glance to spot a security guard stood with arms crossed at the door, clearly waiting for him to leave. Deciding to taunt him, he leapt up and clicked his sneakers heels together like Dorothy, apparently having the time of his life out there in the parking lot. The next question, he delivered while executing a body ripple, travelling through from the tip of one finger to the opposite hand. “You gonna drop in, again? Used to love lickin’ ‘em scoops. Respect. Never seen dairy get fuckin’ suckled like that, some kinda pro.”

for as long as she’s known ziggy, his abnormal behavior is completely normal to esme. he could push her buttons all he wants, but esme thinks she’s becoming desensitized towards his version of flirtation or weird manners — or whatever he’s rambling to her about on the asphalt this evening. most of the time all it earns is a roll of her eyes and a dismissive wave of her hand, or even a zinger out of left field from esme. however, he still crosses that line where she’d react in disgust ( and embarrassment ) often. when ziggy grasps onto her hand, esme shifts her footing to help him back onto his two feet and she’s ready to let go of his hand, but his grip doesn’t loosen. oh no. with raised brows, she watches him bow in front of her before he haphazardly twirls. well, that happened. esme applauds him with a shake of her head and a smile as she responds with ​​❛ wow, i’m BLOWN away. you’re so cool, ziggy ! ❜ she then notices the scrape when he lifts his arm, crimson dripping down his elbow. as much as he annoys the heck out of her, she can’t help but be concerned about an injury — even one as minor as an elbow scrape. there has to be some bandaids in her glovebox. ❛ really ? they want to rehire you ? ❜ esme queries, doubtful that any establishment would want ziggy back on their employee roster … unless they were that desperate. she sees his attention shift from her to the security guard, also turning her head to see the apparent glare on his face at probably both of them. ziggy can be a nuisance, but he’s her friend ( even if she hates admitting that ) and there’s no reason for this security guard to toss him out like trash and even make him bleed. esme narrows her eyes at the older man, unfazed by ziggy clicking his heels beside her. maybe we should leave before ziggy’s taunting escalates, esme thinks. the next few words out of ziggy’s mouth makes esme visibly grimace and regret the worry she momentarily felt for him. the body ripple would usually make esme crack up, but the obscene remark just ruins the hilarity and makes her cheeks warm in embarrassment. ❛ UGH, ❜ she huffs, grabbing ziggy by the material of his t-shirt to drag him away from the irked security guard, appalled at the words this kid said to this girl who helped him onto his feet ( when she didn’t have to ). ​​❛ first of all, i like the non-dairy strawberry ice cream, ❜ esme corrects, heading towards her forest green jeep with her grip still bunched up in his shirt. ❛ and just — EW ! if you get rehired like you say you are, i’m definitely NOT droppin’ in again. i liked eating ice cream IN PEACE without worryin’ about a weirdo staring at me behind the counter. ❜

It was always weird, seeing someone she didn’t talk to anymore but used to be so close with. Lara had spent the better part of her shift forcing the DJ to play the songs she wanted instead of the ones Rockin’ and Rollin’s patrons had requested, when she spotted Esme come in out of the corner of her eye. If things were different, she wouldn’t have hesitated before skating over to say hi - now, she was torn. Surely it’d be too weird to pretend Lara hadn’t seen Esme at all, especially after they made direct eye contact. But there was a small, loyal - and somewhat feisty - part of her that felt as if it wouldn’t be fair to Lane. Who would’ve rolled his eyes if he heard Lara think that, but she’d always been loyal to a fault, “Hey,” she eventually tried, skating over with matching blue slushees in her hand, “Here - on the house. They don’t care, seriously. Or they do and they just can’t fire me. I’m the arm candy of this place, y’know?” Placing one of the slushees in front of Esme, Lara hesitated before sitting across from her at the table she’d chosen, “Haven’t seen you in a while - you here with someone special?” It was typical gossip, Lara did it with everyone, but as soon as she asked, she realized it maybe wasn’t the most appropriate question, all things considered. @sphyrnidaes​

with her chin placed in the palm of her hand, esme watches her mom and a few of her high school friends ( and some local business owners ) from afar skating around the roller rink for their monthly skate and drink ( at the bar a few building down afterward ) get together. it’s not like she wants to be here in the first place — she was practically dragged out of the sahin household by her mom because the one way she’d be getting a blue slushee is if she came with instead of cooped up in her bedroom. it’s embarrassing enough to come to a popular spot for the teenagers of irving with her mom, but getting a slushee out of it ( and watching her mom have fun with friends and be blissfully ignoring teenagers ogling her ) is worth it. esme isn’t much of a skater anyway, falling on her butt more than once back in high school was enough to deter her from trying again in the future. she’d rather be at the tables outside of the rink, enjoying the slushee ( that she hasn’t had yet ) and trying to win the claw games against the wall. the shark plushie holding a pineapple just NEEDS to be added to her collection. it’s been there for years in that dang claw machine, waiting to be taken home. she forgot her wallet and her mom’s money is in the back pocket of her bell-bottom jeans, so esme’s stuck people-watching. adding on to the awkwardness, she spotted lara who’s a frequent presence in rockin’ and rollin’ as soon as she stepped in the building. the direct eye-contact made the nervousness churn in her stomach. as much as esme would love to smile and wave at her once close friend, she fears lara hates her guts — and she has every right to after all she’s done to lane. and now she’s here, encroaching on one of lara’s go-to places. esme notices lara with two slushees in hand skating right towards her, hoping her face didn’t clearly read ‘ oh no, is she going to dump this slushee on me and tell me to leave ?? ’ instead the brunette musters her best smile, gazing up at lara as she instead places the cup on the table. ❛ hey, ❜ she greets, sitting up straighter as lara sits across from her. esme can’t help but giggle at her, perhaps out of both nervousness and fondness. ❛ thank you, lara. rockin’ and rollin’ would be screwed if they lost ya’, ❜ she says, taking a sip of the slushee — lara remembered her favorite flavor. ❛ i’m here with my mom, ❜ esme answers, pointing towards the group of mrs. sahin and the other ladies. the fact that lara is asking about if esme’s here with someone romantically doesn’t even cross her mind. esme gazes back at lara, playing with her straw as she adds ❛ it’s nice to see you. how have you been ? ❜

       “  i knew you’d agree,  ”  august smiles, triumphant for she’s finally reached one person on this beach. of course, it’s the one person she knew would agree with her. esme has always been involved with the cause. it’s nice to see her back in town, that’s for certain, for not only is she willing to put in the hard work, but she’s a good friend to have in your corner when you need one. “ and i’m so glad you’re home,  ”  august continues, still smiling from ear to ear, “ yeah! i was feeling inspired, so i organized something. i’m hoping to make it a recurring event. once a month, at least. and of course, we’d love to have you, whenever you’re free.  ”

     i’m so glad you’re home. that sentence alone makes esme’s heart warm, lifting her eyes from the phone screen to beam at august. it means a lot to hear that, especially from an irvingite esme looks up to tremendously. ❛ i’m glad i’m home, too, ❜ she says, straightening her posture as she nods along to exciting news about future beach clean ups. ❛ have you spoken to the lead event coordinator at the aquarium ? her name is aimee. the aquarium used to host the beach cleanups here ever since i could remember, but they’ve been happening less often ... i wonder why. maybe she can help making it a recurring thing again ! i can give you her number if you haven’t spoken to her yet. ❜

           “  sounds like a deal to me,  ”  cherry agrees, quickly falling into step with esme as they go on their merry way, letting deniz lead the way. it’s moments like this that she appreciates the most — simple, every day things, done with the people who she cares for the most — and she’s certainly the sort to stop and smell the roses along the way ( both metaphorically and literally. the johnson’s crawling roses are in full bloom and look absolutely stunning right now. she can’t help but to admire ).  “  see, if i gave you the recipe,  ”  cherry leads, teasing a bit, “ then i fear you wouldn’t keep me around anymore. and we can’t have that. now can we?  ”  of course, she directs the question not to esme, but to deniz. his opinion is very important. 

          esme can’t help but feel nostalgia as the duo walk down the sidewalks of orion ave. it was simpler times back then — it seems like it was just yesterday when they were kids, chasing puppy deniz down the sidewalk when he saw other children of the neighborhood bolting to the ice cream truck parked a few houses down, but they are now in their early twenties ( and deniz way past that in human years ) almost doing the same thing. what cherry says obviously is about cookies and is to the dog, and not her, makes the smile on esme’s visage falter slightly. it’s actually vice versa, esme thinks. the doubt creeping up on her that her irving friends still want her around despite being in miami for the last four years, and making a big announcement she was going to say after graduation. however, she’s here now — and she wants to be for good. ❛ i always want you around, cherry, ❜ esme pouts a little, even if the red-head is teasing, and quickly adds ❛ and deniz. he’d want one of his best buddies around too. plus, i need ya’ around to be my gummy shark supplier !! i can live without your recipes, but gummy sharks on the other hand ... ❜ 

     it seems she’s struck a nerve — the realization of such rendering her more than pleased, a smirk taking form on her features as she goes to dip another fry. typically, it’s raphael taking shot after shot at her, for she’s aware it’s a little too easy to get a rise out of her, so the fact that she’s found something that bothers him is something to savor. “ why not?  ” valentina retorts, really hammering home the point, “ do you have elf related trauma? or is it that you’re recognizing that we’re not friends — even though you’ve previously insisted that we are.  ”  she rolls her eyes at his other response, a bit of a cop out if you ask her. “ i have a very full life, that’s all i’ll say.  ”  translation: no, she doesn’t give herself time to relax.  “ yeah, well, i can always say no if your idea is too off the rails.  ”  and of course, just as predicted, his idea is plenty off the rails. but she already knows he likely thinks she’s a stick in the mud and she isn’t exactly one to back down when challenged. plus, aquila drive is home for her. if she wants to slip out the back door of the party, it’s only a short walk to her family home.  “  fine. i’ve been thinking about getting another tattoo anyway, so this is really just convenient for me. but yeah, sure, lets have some fun first.  ”  

       raphael narrows his dark hues in suspicion and mild annoyance as he sips his milkshake — probably to everything she just told him. as much as he’d like to continue on the topic of what EXACTLY they are to each other ( they’re definitely friends ... or at least raphael has just given himself the title of her pain in the ass friend ) and how he’s actually never seen the entirely of that will ferrel christmas movie, he was already too busy mentally preparing himself to give her shit for declining his offer when valentina said YES — well, an almost petulant ‘ fine. ’ the shock doesn’t appear on rapahel’s visage ( as usual he being hard to read, but some walls have unknowingly began to be torn down ). a satisfied smirk makes an appearance instead, letting val have the little wins of their banter while he gets this W. what piques his interest is the mention of another tattoo. ❛ hold on. another tattoo ? ❜ he leans in a bit—as if that’d help him see wherever this tattoo is—and tilts his head with a shit-eating grin. ❛ i didn’t know this ! lemme guess — is it an infinity symbol ? a rose ? ❜

time: mid-day where: irving aquarium

closed starter for @sphyrnidaes

          camera case secured over his shoulder with a thick strap, lee makes his way through the large doors of the aquarium and down to the shark exhibit where he was said to find his friend esme. a small lunch box containing grilled cheese for himself and chickpea salad for esme hangs loosely from the two fingers needed to carry it. today he was hoping during their lunch (not a date but … gathering?) she might let him get some pictures around the aquarium. something he’s been wanting to do for a while now. building his portfolio was on the long list of things he felt he needed to do. seeing esme sitting in the same spot he’s met her in every time he’s come to join her for lunch, he smiles and waves with the hand not holding their lunch. “hey esme, how’re you?” he asked, knowing small talk is what he’s best at. 

         her stomach is growling. ever since she got the text lee would be bringing her lunch today, it’s ALL she’s been thinking about — and of course, being eating said lunch with her friend. it does get lonely sometimes eating her lunch by herself with her phone to keep her company, so it’s nice to catch up with lee and hear about his current projects and other things he’s been up to. esme turns her head from the sharks she was observing when she hears a familiar voice, a smile growing on her lips when she spots him approaching her with what looks like his camera bag. ❛ hey, you ! ❜ she greets, waving him over to sit next to her. ❛ i’m good. i’m ready to eat some lunch. how are you doing ? ❜ esme queries, looking at his lunch box in his hand ( eagerly wondering what’s inside ) before back at his visage.

sometimes,  she  doesn’t  know  what’s  true  and  what’s  not.  what’s  being  said  to  appease  her  or  to  get  her  to  shut  up,  versus  what’s  actually  being  truthful.  being  pacified  then  belitted  the  entire  time  they  lived  with  their  parents  was  suffocating,  always  two  seconds  from  truly  passing  out  from  the  lack  of  space  to  breathe.  devon  likes  to  think  her  siblings  are  truthful  to  her,  always.  not  that  she  nessecarily  trusting  of  them  all  the  time  —–  they  keep  secrets  from  each  other,  it’s  what  siblings  do,  but  when  it  comes  to  times  like  this?  there’s  an  all  too  familiar  voice  that  creeps  in  the  back  of  her  mind,  yet  to  be  pushed  out.  it’s  like  an  ocean  tide  slowly  pulling  her  back  out  to  sea  and  the  lifejacket  devon  has  is  shitty.  she  tries  not  to  think  about  it,  tries  not  to  think  about  just  why  it  keeps  coming  back  like  a  rabid  animal.  she  just  shrugs.  raph  knows  what  to  say,  most  of  the  time.  it’s  the  only  reason  she’s  asking  him  aloud  instead  of  letting  it  fester  in  her  mind  until  she  explodes.  he’s  not  the  only  one  who  wants  to  light  matches,  burn  down  the  whole  thing  and  start  new.  they  both  couldn’t  do  that,  still  can’t,  but  it’s  nice  to  dream  about.  “but  isn’t  honesty  the  best  policy?”  raises  an  eyebrow  at  that,  like  she’s  questioning  his  motives  here  (  she  is  )  .  “dunno,  i  just  think  people  shouldn’t  be  so  offended  by  the  fact  that  i’m  not  gonna  baby  them  and  tell  them  stuff  just  to  make  them  happy.”  that  sounds  shitty  —  she  means  it  in  a  way  that’s  entirely,  like,  from  a  good  place.  she  just  doesn’t  know  how  to  word  is  right.  “no.  just  thinking.”  unfortunately.

Ziggy, banned from the local bowling alley, had brought a “date” to the local bowling alley. They’d just finished an incredibly romantic trip to a toilet stall sticky with soda when he swore he spotted the manager slip in after a smoke break, prompting him to immediately lurch into monkey brain and make the greatest decision of all time. Rather than blend into the shadows, leave quietly out of a back door, Ziggy started leaping over alleys as people pitched for strikes, narrowly avoiding getting hit. By the time he reached the other side of the building, peppered with a handful of booths to accommodate in house dining (nachos and slushees, mostly), he’d been clearly identified. The neon green glow of his hair was practically a stop light telling the manager to go ahead and haul his ass out onto the asphalt. Flung onto just that, sprawled out in the carpark like a freshly swatted bug, Ziggy kissed the back of his teeth as the door slammed shut. “Fuckin’ manhandlin’ me wit’ those bony ass fingers, yo, like gettin’ frisked by a pair of chopsticks or sum’n, poky as hell.” Talking to no-one. Rather than get up right away, he pat down his obnoxiously bright camo shorts, propped a crooked (stolen) cigarette between his lips and chucked a glance around. Esme. A little further off. Maybe she’d witnessed the whole thing. He wasn’t sure which direction she’d come from. Elbow pushed against the ground – only a squint at the register of a graze he’d earned there, tolerance from skateboarding considered, well aware he’d be picking the scab tomorrow – Ziggy shifted his weight so he was lying sideways, posed as if on a mattress. It had the insincere undertone of a page six model. Once, in high school, he’d adopted the same pose in the middle of an IT class, right on the carpet. “Yo, you tryna, like, ogle me, or some shit? Eyein’ up my lithe lil jaguar body, salivatin’? Fuckin’ – twisted, forreal. Ain’t a piece of meat, yo. Feelin’, like,” he shrugged a shoulder, clearly anything but as he lounged on a public carpark’s asphalt, “vulnerable, ‘n’ all’a that shit. Scared, man, like a crumb fuckin’, jus’ – engulfed between a pair of tits, screamin’ for it’s life.” @sphyrnidaes​

oh, great — the thought that immediately pops into esme’s brain as she sees a figure being tossed onto the asphalt, immediately recognizing it’s ziggy. how could you mistake a head of hair as bright as a green glowstick belonging to someone else in irving ? esme could just ignore him, pivoting around in her brown converse and leave him to fend on himself outside the bowling alley; however, she parked her jeep towards the bowling alley and ziggy’s addressing her directly. there’s no way to escape this interaction ( which always seems to be the case every time she runs into him ). esme grimaces as she reluctantly makes her way to him ( almost stomping in a ‘ i really don’t want to do this, but i have to ’ pout sort of way ), rolling her sepia hues at his annoying ( and a bit inappropriate .. as usual ) remarks. ❛ ew, no. i’m not ogling you, ❜ she answers now in front of his lounging body, looking down at him with a quizzical furrow of her brows. ❛ c’mon, ziggy. get up before you get run over. ❜ she adds, extending her hand out for him as an offer to help him back onto his feet — a quickly expiring offer at that.

she  doesn’t  care  about  what  people  think.  not  usually.  the  voice  of  their  mother  still  lingers  in  her  mind,  will  for  years  to  come.  shrill  voice  that  somehow  puts  boulders  on  her  shoulders  will  seemingly  never  lessen,  deafening  everything  else  when  memories  resurface  that  she’s  tried  hard  to  forget.  haunts  her  like  a  ghost  she’ll  never  escape,  following  her  to  her  adult  years.  the  way  she’d  pick  devon  apart  and  try  to  put  her  back  together  -  in  her  own  way,  way  that  she  sees  and  not  in  the  way  devon  sees  herself.  it’s  hard  not  to  hear  the  words  of  others  in  her  voice,  echoing  throughout  her  head  like  it’s  hollow.  "no,  i  mean  like  –“  there’s  a  pause  to  actually  try  and  gauge  what  she    means.  she  doesn’t  quite  know  herself,  taunts  from  past  high  school  peers  found  their  way  back  into  her  subconscious,  now  she  can’t  stop  overthinking.  maybe  she’s  a  bit  too  aggressive.  a  bit  too  pushy.  a  bit  too  devon.    "no.  like.  am  i  a  mean  person?”  that  doesn’t  make  much  of  a  difference  as  to  try  and  clarify,  but  raph  will  have  to  deal.

TWO HOURS LATER

lane: don't fucking come around here again until you've figured out your shit