a gateway

〝   you   wanna   talk   about   it?   〞she   asks,   timbre   genuine   as   palm   pats   the   sand   beside   her,   inviting   the   male   to   sit   down.   knows   it's   the   first   time   in   five   years   that   she's   initiated   a   conversation   with   tucker   but   she   missed   him   –––    a   lot   and   there   was   no   better   time   to   talk   to   him   than   on   the   night   of   the   town's   truce,   even   if   tucker   didn't   exactly   know   what   it   was.   to   him,   and   other   humans   –––  the   bonfire   was   a   community   celebration.   〝   i   know   and   i'm   also   sorry   that   it's   taken   this   long   for   me   to   apologise.   i   wanted   to   talk   to   you   like   everyday,   i   just   .   .   i   couldn't.   〞averts   her   gaze,   not   wanting   to   witness   inevitable   look   of   disappointment   in   male's   eyes,   not   only   due   to   the   terrible   excuse   and   apology   but   also   because   she   couldn't   exactly   tell   him   why.   shrugs   at   his   question   before   shaking   her   head,   muttering   a〝   no.   well,   not   exactly.   it's   calmer   over   here   .   .   and   safer.   〞voice   trails   off   as   she   turns   her   head,   gaze   falling   upon   the   calming   waves.   〝   i   hate   fire,   you   know   that.   〞

"not really." but he finds himself taking a seat beside her anyway, as if his body is betraying his mind, working on autopilot. he leaves about a foot of space between them, looking at her more directly now. "couldn't or... didn't want to?" he asks, then he backpedals, shaking his head, "never mind. it really fuckin' sucked, roxy. sure ya already know that. like i said... we don't have to hash that out. i'm sure ya... well, i guess ya had your reasons." his voice is quiet, wavering only slightly as he tries to maintain his gaze despite the fact that she looks away. and that's part of why even when he tries, he could never hate her. tucker just knows she feels bad about it. from the way she's sitting, from the way she avoids his eyes now, he knows she's actually sorry. even after all this time, he can see that plainly. when she mentions the fire, he nods, jaw tensing slightly at the painful memory she'd shared with him, "yeah. yeah, of course. i think it started to melt the rubber on my boots when i was over there, so who could blame ya?" he tries to joke, not wanting her to have to sit in that pain for too long. he sighs, digging his heels into the sand as he asks, "so... how've you been?" tucker feels a bit stupid asking, honestly, so much has happened since they were together. he knows some things, but they're all things he's heard bits and pieces of from mutual friends and other people in town. they haven't gotten the chance to just talk like this. the timing might not be perfect, but he wants to know. he'd ask for a play-by-play of the last few years, but that seems like a bit much.

his limit’s two? two!? bodhi can hardly believe it — stunned, truly, as if the very laws of nature have been rewritten before his eyes. the audacity of restraint! the quiet discipline of a mortal man who can consume only two s’mores and simply… stop. it’s nearly unthinkable. but no — he won't falter now. not when the prize lies ahead in molten sugar and melted chocolate, sticky-fingered and triumphant. not when glory demands excess. not when the night tastes like nostalgia and childhood lit on fire. "that sounds like the perfect day, right? not a care in the world. chocolate and marshmallow all over my face, graham cracker crumbs on my shirt. like... i could cry." his voice, all soft theatrics and mock heartbreak, lifts into the warm summer air, and he lifts his hand — too-flat beer still in tow — to press against the corner of his eye like some swooning starlet in a black-and-white film. a tragic figure in flannel and sugar. "i like to think i'm a slow burn person... but after about ten seconds of it not toasting fast enough, i usually just shove it in and give up. the more burnt? the more crisp? the better." and he says it with a sage nod, wisdom worn like ash on his sleeve, a glimmer of mischief tucked beneath the soft curve of his smile. something grateful dances there too, flickering and wordless. "thanks for doing that, by the way. probably half the town wouldn't want me on more sugar tonight. — are you having fun yet?"

"yeah, but then imagine ya get marshmallow in your hair. that's just a goddamn sticky mess. a nightmare. might be like gum, though, and you can get it out by rubbin' peanut butter in your hair." he teases, moving closer to the fire to roast his marshmallows, "a peanut butter s'more might be genius... wait a second, we should consider that for next time." his marshmallow goes up in flames in seconds and tucker lets it sit for awhile, thoroughly roasting it. "i'm too impatient with my dessert," as if that wasn't obvious by the marshmallow torch in his hand, "so i get it." he pulls the marshmallow out and blows it out, giving it a poke to see if it's melty enough yet. tucker waves bodhi off, snorting, "of course, least i can do is make sure you're supplied all the sugar ya need." he starts assembling his first s'more and jokes, "sugar's a better vice than a lot of other shit." he sets the skewer aside, holding his finished s'more in his hand, "havin' more fun now that i ran into you." whatever sort of friendship he has with bodhi has always been an easy one, one that doesn't feel pressured; tucker's not completely sure when exactly he started to feel comfortable around the other, but he's not going to question it, it's nice, "what about you? anything interesting goin' on around here?" he's sure there is, there always is in forks.

KJ APA as WES ONE FAST MOVE (2024) dir. Kelly Blatz

“  ayla.  ”  pearl  stops,  rooted  to  her  place  ;  for  a  fleeting  moment  she  thinks  she  may  be  able  to  hear  something.  a  shift  in  the  trees,  branches  breaking,  a  sign  of  life  aside  from  their  search  party  of  two.  they'd  both  taken  off  into  the  woods,  letting  the  others  fan  out  around  the  perimeter.  part  of  pearl  thinks  they  might  be  lost,  but  her  trust  for  the  other  helps  her  feel  a  bit  more  at  ease.  eyes  shut  in  a  momentary  sigh,  and  when  she  opens  them  again,  she  seems  almost  desperate,  “  she's  not  here,  we  need  –  i  don't  know.  to  regroup,  maybe.  we  haven't  found  a  thing.  ”  and  she's  quite  worried  that  no  one  else  has,  either.  how  can  a  girl  just  up  and  vanish  into  thin  air  ? 

they're trying to get a scent, feel a shift in the air, hear a sound — anything. but pearl is right, she's not here. there's nothing. no sign, no sound. just more woods and the people scattered throughout trying to find the girl. she lets out a breath, eyes meeting pearl's, "there has to be something." they don't want to give up. they can't give up. "what if she's back closer to the beach? somewhere by the cliffs?" though, she's sure someone would have found her by now if that were the case. ayla's just throwing out anything at this point and she doesn't want to assume the very worst, "i just don't get how something like this can happen..." though, they know forks too well to truly believe that, "we have to find her, pearl. someone has to."

the   slight   harshness   of   his   timbre   knocks   her   back   slightly,   although   it   shouldn't   –––   he   was   very   much   entitled   to   be   completely   rude   with   her,   after   all   roxanna   had   left   without   a   word,   not   even   a   bittersweet   goodbye.   even   as   he's   giving   permission   for   her   to   stay,   she   still   finds   herself   preparing   to   stand   up   until   his   worrisome   feelings   are   brought   to   light   and   she   doesn't   move   –––  because   above   everything,   she   still   cares   about   tucker   and   always   will.   〝   why   were   you   sulking?   〞asks   with   a   quiet   giggle,   eyes   meeting   his,   for   the   first   time   in   a   long   time.   〝   i   know,   i   ––   〞wants   to   say   i   miss   you   but   can't   bring   herself   to   say   it,   settles   on   what   he   deserves   to   hear   instead.   〝   i'm   sorry,   for   everything.   〞

"nothin' crazy. just in a mood." he mumbles, letting his gaze really take her in for the first time in so long, "just not gettin' much sleep lately." he admits, leaving it at that. when their eyes meet, he has to swallow to stop his breath from catching in his throat, trying to keep his gaze neutral, uncaring even, but knowing that's utterly impossible when it comes to her. "y'know usually apologies come soon after the thing you're apologizing for." tucker hums, though there's no real bite to his tone. and he doesn't feel angry anymore. he did at first. but now it's mostly a deep sadness that he doesn't know how to verbalize and hates feeling. even after all these years, it hurts him. but how can he say that now? there's so much of him that doesn't want her to feel guilty. he knows guilt well and he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy much less someone he loves once loved. he shakes his head, almost like he's shaking away his own thoughts, "it was a long time ago, roxy, we don't have to talk about it." even though he thinks about it, always will. he asks, "why are you over here all alone? sulking too?"

didn't   mean   to   wander   off,   only   needed   a   few   minutes   to   herself;   to   feel   less   overwhelmed,   to   cool   down   and   a   sigh   of   relief   leaves   her   lips   just   as   eyes   befall   a   not-so   stranger   heading   toward   her.   heart   begins   to   beat   irrationally,   thank   god   tucker   wasn't   a   shapeshifter   –––  he'd   be   immediately   suspicious.   hasn't   spoken   to   homme   properly   since   sneaking   out   of   his   apartment   for   the   last   time   five   years   ago,   not   because   it's   what   she   wanted   but   lysandra   had   threatened   him   through   her.   〝   sorry,   i   was   just   leaving.   but   you   can   stay,   the   view's   pretty   nice.   〞

he doesn't expect to see anyone when he walks off for a few moments alone, so when he sees someone and that someone is her, he briefly considers turning around and jogging back across the sand. but then roxy speaks and he stays, "no." it comes out harsher than he wants it to. he clears his throat, corrects, says more softly, "no, it's fine. you don't have to go." don't go. if this were a handful of years ago, he would have said something about how roxy is the real view, but he refrains, tip of his boot digging into the sand as he looks at his feet, "you were here first so... y'know, if ya wanna be alone, i can find another place to sulk." his hands slip into his jacket pockets as a wind rips in from the water, thinking about how cold her hands probably are right now — like always. "most we've said to each other in five years..." it's not a jab, not even angry per say, just factual.

bodhi doesn’t lie.    not really.    he just…    tucks the truth away when it feels like too much light.    but if anyone ever asked him his favorite place in the world    —    la push,    just as the tide starts to turn,    might earn the quiet answer.    he’s there now,    shoes dug into cool sand,    curls falling into his eyes,    sweatshirt hanging off his frame like it's one size too big.    a lazy smile curls at his mouth as he half-sips a beer gone warm,    already scoping out what food to devour next.    the presence beside him isn’t ignored    (they never are    —    not with him),    and still,    he plays it cool,    like he can’t already feel something shifting.    he turns slow,    only free hand full of graham crackers and chocolate,    the other fumbling toward the bag of marshmallows,    fingers barely grazing the edge.    "please tell me you’re here to make s’mores,    because i physically do not have the hand capacity for this."    he says,    looking up as he speaks next,    his eyes connecting with theirs.    "and i’m gonna be eating,    like…    twelve of them,    so."

tucker grabs the marshmallows without a word, nodding at bodhi as he opens up the bag, offering the opening toward the other, "i think my limit's about two, but i'm happy to keep ya company while ya break the s'mores eating world record." he thinks that he'll have to bring polly back over here later, help her make a s'more that will end up mostly on her face and, more than likely, in her hair too. but he's got his secret weapon (a to-go pack of wet wipes) in his jacket pocket at the ready for any sticky situation. he grabs a skewer, holding the bag of marshmallows under his arm as he spears two on it, "what's your strategy? do you immediately set it on fire? or are ya more of a slow burn kinda person?" tucker's patient, but not when it comes to his meals, so he always goes immediately for a flaming marshmallow situation. he grabs graham crackers and chocolate then, laying them out in preparation.

he'd  opted  for  resignation  —  the  slow  moss,  moving  silently  amongst  the  sea  of  festivities.  it  wasn't  foreign  to  rafa,  making  an  appearance  only  to  remain  stuck  to  the  perimeter.  at  least  he  was  there,  nestled  under  his  windbreaker  as  crisp  wind  kissed  at  his  nose,  shoes  digging  into  the  toughened  sand.  the  night  was  still  early,  so  much  that  the  sun  and  moon  both  showed  up,  too.  it  was  mesmerizing,  he  nearly  missed  the  shuffling  of  sand  —  he  would've,  probably,  had  it  not  been  for  his  unusual  circumstances.  “  you  —  uh,  ”  he  laughs,  rather  sheepishly,  letting  down  his  hood  so  as  to  not  obscure  his  face,  “  no,  you  can  sit  there,  it's  okay.  " a few beats, allowing the silence to swell, until it inevitably pops. " almost a decade here 'n it's  still  weird  to  me  how  late  the  sun  sets  —  it  never  fully  sets,  like,  you  can  always  see  this  glow.  ”

"oh, well, now that i have your permission..." they chuckle softly, taking a seat beside rafa, "almost didn't know it was you over here with the hood up, grim reaper." she allows silence between them, never uncomfortable sitting in it — especially as the sound of the waves against the sand and the other people milling around the gathering fill the space. "there's some metaphor in there about there always being a light guiding you home or something, but i won't bore you with it." she flashes him a grin, looking at him then out at the beach, "having fun yet?" there's a tinge of sarcasm in their voice, but still kind, "did you eat? if not, you should eat. food's going fast."

Dancing in Film: Scrapper (2023) dir. Charlotte Regan