actual human sunshine.

        if layla could skip, she would be; the sun is covering the world in a warm glow, she can smell the flowers, and she’s wearing the cutest yellow sundress, as prepared for this weather as she could possibly be. her steps don’t spring, they haven’t done for years, but she feels it all the same. there’s something about sunshine that just makes her happy, as though she’s solar-powered. maybe she is: layla’s health is always at its best in the summer. come autumn, her joints will seize again, and her mood will lessen, searching for those moments of sun. so she is going to take advantage of this, she’s going to walk --- yes, walk, with a floral cane chosen purely for its summery design --- through the park on her way back to the shop, and not worry about anything.

        she should have known her legs would have other ideas. they’ve always been layla’s worst enemy.

          the realisation comes with a rapid acknowledgement that he probably shouldn’t be using the phrase kidney transplant on a plate around her in the first place.          whoops.          he’ll take the self-inflicted rap across the knuckles and remember not to voice what he thinks hers looks like.           ❛          yeah     —     you too.          ❜          it’s a strange circumstance in which to see anyone,  and layla doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of person he’d talk to          (          or the kind of person that would talk to him          )          outside of here,  so the unorthodox whatever-it-is they’ve managed to hold onto throughout is special.          not many things are nowadays.

          ❛          what happened to me ?          ❜          he’s entirely uncertain to which aspect she’s alluding to     —     what happened to make him stop showing up there,  or what happened to bring him back.          he knows which one he’d rather talk about,  swallowing the glum lump in his throat.          ❛           i,  uh     …     i got in a fight.          ❜          it’s the prideful version of the truth,  because nobody wants to say i got beaten up by a drug kingpin after he wouldn’t pay me.          ❛          y’should see the other guy,  y’know ?          total car wreck.          ❜          if his half-assed bragging was anything to show for his bluff,  his near pristine knuckles certainly were,  no punches thrown on his end.          something tells him she’s not the type to be all that impressed by macho acts of bravado,  anyway.

       ❝ oh. ❞ as someone who’s never gotten into a fight before --- not a physical one, anyway, and layla does her best to avoid verbal ones too, because not only does she start crying at the first hint of something mean said about her, she doesn’t know how to be mean to anyone back, not when she doesn’t want to hurt them --- she can’t really...understand why. surely there are better things than violence? (she’s realistic enough to know that not everybody will hold hands and hug instead...but she can hope, can’t she? hope is worth everything.)   ❝ i-i’m not sure, you know, beating someone up is something to really be proud of. ❞ why do guys always say that? you should see the other guy, as if that’ll impress her. as if it’s a crowning achievement.

    her ma always had to remind her that it was going to take small steps. julia had never been a very patient person when it came to waiting for good things to come, but it was usually with things that were trivial. staying in this house, staying close to her ma, was where she felt the most comfortable. on the other side of that door, julia had lost everything she had ever been before. she didn’t know who to be or who she was. she was nothing like the previously confident woman who had her entire life ahead of her. those days were gone now, ripped to shreds by that awful war. but maybe layla could play a part in helping her find something. something that could help mend the broken pieces inside of her with a friendship she had been desperately longing for. after getting everything she needed to prepare the frosting, julia returned with a half-smile etched into her cheeks. ❝ ‘suppose you could say that. it’s mostly just an excuse for everyone to get together and brag about how wonderful their lives are over lemonade and cupcakes. ❞ truly, it wasn’t a lie. ❝ you could come along next sunday if you’d like. ❞

          ❝ — fair enough. ❞   he still feels a little bit like his brain has been travelling all by itself in hyperdrive, so his lies are probably worse than usual right now. this whole place is beyond strange, but people seem like they’re mostly the same. and there’s something about her that makes her easy to trust; the kind of person poe would want to get to know even if he wasn’t stranded on a planet he’s never heard of before.  ❝ i, uh, got knocked off course, and— ❞  he shrugs.  ❝ here i am. ❞ 

     layla might just be the nicest person julia has ever met. the way she always seemed to put everyone else’s needs before her own both humbled her and worried her. she knew that deflecting from your own problems to focus on others could be tormenting in the end ——– and she never wanted layla to feel that way. especially considering she was new to the area. it had to be scary to be in such a foreign place by herself, and maybe julia could learn to open up a little more. ❝ swell, i’ll grab everything from the pantry and we can get goin’. ❞ it was nice to have someone around who shared her love of baking, too. other than her ma, julia only really did it by herself. it was cathartic, in a way. ❝ well, you ever find yourself with some extra treats, our lady of mercy is always looking for donations. we have socials every wednesday and we’re always welcome to new people swinging through. ❞

             ❝ ——i’m fine? ❞   he’s a terrible liar, is what he is — even about this — so poe follows after her and takes a seat anyway.  ❝ thanks. —i don’t wanna intrude, or anything. ❞