#are sometimes

Shades of Arnav & Khushi (7 of 10)

Laugh

“With this haldi you look like-” *bursts into laugher*

“Khushi, you-” *busts into laughter*

Longing

“...”

“...”

Love

*hey heyyyy*

*hey hey heyyyyy*

Nostalgia

“Mumma kept on telling me to be patient” *sad chuckle*

“Remember Jiji how you always had a runny nose?” *sad chuckle*

Playful

"Well first there was Shreya, then Natalie...” *continues with a list of imaginary women*

"I’m sorry I saw you naked.” *proceeds to show a pic of baby Arnav*

@iaal​ oh god I have so much more. a continuation of this post, so the posts don’t get absurdly long on people’s dashes lmao

I’m just gonna continue chronologically which means nothing good happens for a while after the bike saga but. 

we get to wednesday, my third day at the job. 

in the semi-rural town I was in, there were two high schools: an all-boys “non-academic” school and an all-gender “low-academic” school. basically, none of these students were expected to go to college, because we were “just” a farming and manufacturing hub. (huge note here that these kids were all brilliant, bright, and cool as fuck even at these “less advanced” campuses.) my school was the all-gender school, not the all-boys school.

...lol.

anyway, third day on the job, my supervisor stomped over to my desk. he said in English, “are you kidding me? come on.” (that will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life, btw, because this man almost never spoke English to me, and hearing him use a semi-casual English phrase THREW me.) in Japanese, he continued: “you’re supposed to be at your other school today.”

yeah, so. I was the assistant english teacher at the all-boys school, too. 

and I was late, because I went to my low-academic school like I thought I was meant to. I was horrified. here’s a fun fact about the JET program: they tell you about your school MONTHS before you move to japan. and nowhere, not on ANY document, was this other school mentioned. nonetheless, my supervisor just started SHOUTING the other school name at me. just, repeatedly screaming it, to the point where other teachers in the work room ran over to defuse/understand the situation.

somehow I figured out what was going on; that I was meant to be at my “second school” and I was making him look bad by fucking up my schedule.

I pulled out my map, because I literally never traveled without it thanks, and found the other school. I hopped on my bike. I got there as the baseball team finished their morning routine outside and they all ran over to me like OOOHHHH NEW TEACHERRR WHERE ARE YOU FROM? PLEASE TEACH ME ENGLISH DO YOU LIKE BASEBALL? lmao it was absolutely amazing ;__;

and it was actually kind of good fortune that we collided because their coach was able to guide me straight to the secretary, rather than me wandering around half-lost on the campus, which saved me some time. I was only about 30 minutes late, all told, which wasn’t great, but not the end of the world? still, I met the secretary and she seemed really put off. like, we walked over to these lockers, she showed me my locker, and when it was empty, she did a double take. and she said since I didn’t have indoor shoes with me, I’d have to borrow the school’s designated slippers for delinquent boys who also forgot their indoor shoes.

a second fun fact for today’s story: I wear a US women’s size 5. my feet. are tiny. I shuffled around that school all day like a fuckin slapstick ass clown in the men’s-sized spare slipper and when I tell you my shins were BRUISED from falling over and over... LMFAO

anyway. when I finally left school that day, my bike. was not. where I left it. I was lowkey losing my mind because that bike was the only good thing in my life at that point. I tearfully retreated back into the school after circling the WHOLE campus looking for it, and asked the secretary if she could drive me home, and she was like, “I don’t think your bike will fit in my car” and I said “yeah...my bike’s gone.” and she was like “isn’t it in the teacher’s bike parking across the street?”

at some point, someone moved my bike from guest parking to teacher parking, in its own building across the street. she realized then, when I was just staring at her like, “tf is teacher’s parking?” that I didn’t get a tour of the campus like she thought I had during my arrival to the town a few days prior. you see, on my first day in town, my supervisor was meant to drive me to the grocery store. the bank. the bikeshop. and my two fucking campuses. he didn’t. i was supposed to have already BEEN to this campus. I should have already known about my locker, I should have left spare indoor shoes!!! we both realized the fuckup at the same time, the secretary and me.

up until that point, she thought I was just a typical selfish American moron who usually leaves bikes in the wrong place, shows up late to work, and didn’t know Japanese people wore different shoes inside schools. she apologized to me, like, really sincerely, and then offered to drive me home so I could avoid the storm outside. I could get my bike back another time. I told her I was ok; I’d honestly gotten used to being out in the rain by now.

on my way back to my apartment, I started to cry. I mean, I’d held it together pretty well the last few days, but having someone else recognize that maybe I was being set up to fail hit me at that point. I stopped to get off my bike because I legit started sobbing and couldn’t see straight. I just crouched down next to a rice field and cried in the rain.

when I stood up a few minutes later, I took a photo.

Why nonnie? Why would you bring this horrendous ask to me? 

Well this is Robert Sugden we’re talking about. He could talk his way out of anything.