#drabble2

Eloise flinched as the sound of shattered glass filled the silent air. Pictures off the mantle now surrounded her and she immediately fell to her knees to try and salvage what was inside the now broken frames. “You really think that you are ever going to fucking make it anywhere in this life like this Ellie?! You’re kidding yourself!” His voice filled with anger and laced with hatred. He walked closer to her the sound of glass crushing under each step. She picked up the final picture she had taken her sixth grade year before being forced to the states, giving it a look before Sebastian ripped it from her hands. Her heart skipped a few beats and her eyes got wide in fear. She tried to snatch it back but she lost. She pushed herself up off the floor, a piece of glass cutting into her palm.

 She now stood toe to toe with him “Give it back. Take any other one but that one!” Her voice got louder with each word. He could have taken any of the others. Her with her dog, or the one that she had forced the two of them to take when she hired him just to have the memory, but he chose that one. He dangled the picture in front of her and she tried to grab it once more. Sebastian pulled it away from her and ripped it in half, letting it fall back to the ground.

 She screamed out in pain as tears began to roll down her cheek. She gritted her teeth and let the fire of her anger consume her body. “Man fuck you! You know nothing about me and what I have been through!” She yelled as she balled up both of her fists as tight as she could and hit him square in the chest over and over until she backed him into the wall. “You think you know what it’s like? Sitting here with your precious ass life? Parents that actually love you. Support you. Got a good job, a family that cares! Don’t sit there and try to say you know anything about my life. You know nothing!“ Sebastian quickly grabbed both of her wrists and shoved her back as hard as he could, forcing her to the floor. She winced a bit in pain but it wasn’t noticeable. The blood from her palm staining her freshly waxed hardwood floors. “You are so used to being broken that the angels themselves can’t fix you. You are a lost cause.” he took a few steps toward her and crouched down to her level. She looked up at him. She crossed a line and she finally realized it.

 “I need help.” her words were soft as she weakly pushed herself up off the ground. Eloise couldn’t deny the fact that she was in a totally different mental state then she had been just a week before. The stress of the café, buying a new penthouse in Manhattan and still trying to process everything from the four years prior to that moment. She was bursting at the seams. Sebastian stood up and tried to reach out for her but she flinched away. The last thing she wanted was to be touched. “Eloise, let me help you.” Her hazel hues met his bright blue ones. She swallowed hard. “Why should I? Look around you Sebastian. If this is your type of help then I don’t want it.” She couldn’t help her voice from cracking. She looked at the broken memories all over the floor. Each one now symbolizing the broken pillars of her life. Eloise reached down and picked up a now faded newspaper article from the mess and silently walked into her room where she separated herself from the chaos.

 Sebastian stood in the middle of the empty living room feeling alone. The only person in New York who had actually given him a chance after his run in with the law. Most of it was speculation but no one wanted to bet on a possibility. Eloise did. He never understood why but he was always grateful she did. He walked down the long hallway and stopped at her bedroom door. "Eloise, can we talk about this please?” he called out to her, hoping she wouldn’t just go silent on him. “Can you just go away?” she called out as she sealed back up her hope chest, tucking it back under her bed. She walked over to her bedroom door and opened it slightly. “Look, I hired you to keep my life together. Not tear it apart, and I sure as hell didn’t write in the contract I wanted to be thrown around like a rag doll.” He fell silent and his eyes flashed to her now bruised wrists. His fingerprints clearly visible. She was still very fragile. He was surprised he didn’t break her.

Wesley cocked his head to allow for the collar and necktie to settle. He patted down his own shirt as he heard the doorbell ring. “That’ll be them.” He felt Vivian tug at his side so they could move to the front door, Wesley had his walking stick out, though he knew Vivian would be helping him along for the most part, regardless. He heard Vivian open the door to and allowed for her to greet the couple waiting on the other side. 

He heard Vivian throw her body at their son, knowing the exact way she hugged him and was holding onto him, not unlike the way she would throw her arms around Wesley himself, he knew. However, Daniel was also taller than Wesley, so he had no doubt that it took a bit more effort for her to get her arms around his neck to hold him. 

“Oh, ragazzo mio, lascia che ti guardi. Sento che sei diventato più alto dall'ultima volta che ti abbiamo visto,” Wesley could hear Vivian cooing at Daniel. “And look at you with that full beard, just like your father. You look so handsome.” 

“Mom…” said Daniel clearly trying to gently pry his mother off of him. “I’ve got company.” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” said Vivian as she then pulled back. Wesley could feel she was back by his side and she had wrapped her arm around his arm. She gently moved Wesley to one side to allow the couple to enter. Wesley could feel them move past them, Vivian leaned close. “She’s very pretty,” he heard her whisper. “She’s tall, wavy brown hair, and—“ she paused for a moment. Wesley had a feeling she was confirming something with Daniel, “she’s blind,” she finished. 

Daniel cleared his throat. “Mom, dad, this is my girlfriend, Veronica,” he announced. “Veronica, this is my mom, she’s on the right and my dad is to the left, Vivian and Wesley.”  

“It’s so nice to meet you,” smiled Vivian. 

Wesley nodded his head but then suddenly realized that would do no good. It was also in that moment that he realized he had never, really interacted with someone else who was blind. After all, being blind wasn’t like being deaf where there were was an entire culture and community built around it. No, and even if there was Wesley knew he wouldn’t have been involved. He had grown used to his bubble of a world, Vivian and Daniel.  “Nice to meet you,” he spoke up. It was the first girlfriend of his they had ever met. Wesley had no doubt Daniel dated around, but he could tell this one was much more serious than anyone else. 

“How’d you two meet?” he heard Vivian ask.

“Ah, well, you know I volunteer in the disability resource center at school, right?” said Daniel. “She came in one day and needed help with something and we just started talking.” 

“Yeah, he makes it sound like we just started talking like we just sat down and suddenly connected,” said Veronica. Wesley had a feeling she had rolled her eyes in that moment, there was something in her tone of voice. “I was actually there to yell at someone and Danny was the one I chose to yell at since no one else was there, but of course as it turns out, he was exactly the person I needed.” There was a pause before she quickly continued, “just in the sense that I needed someone who could actually understand where I was coming from.” Wesley recognized that quick turn around, not wanting to be too clingy. Not unlike himself, really.  

“I’m trying to make my parents like you, not think we got off on the wrong foot,” Daniel spoke up. “See, now my mom looks absolutely aghast at the idea that she wouldn’t like you to begin with.” 

“He uses words like ‘aghast’ like he’s writing a story instead of having a conversation,” she spoke up again. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite as descriptive when they’re speaking instead of writing. It helps, though.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” said Wesley with a small smile. 

“Doesn’t hurt that he has a writer and English professor as a father,” added Vivian proudly, nudging Wesley gently. 

“Yes, well, if you’re ever interested, you could take one of my classes. I teach a 19th century literature course and a creative writing class with a particular focus on descriptive writing, if you’re up to it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Veronica said. 

 “Okay, okay, okay,” Vivian said clapping her hands, “enough of the small talk in the hallway, why don’t we start heading over to the restaurant and keep talking there. Come on, Danny, pucci,” she said as she then tugged on Wesley’s arm to lead him out of the door. Wesley heard Danny and Veronica leave before following them out.

“So, what do you think?” whispered Wesley to Vivian, knowing the kids were a few paces in front of them. 

The First Time I Saw Your Face: 

Since arriving in the states, Ronan had felt out of place. It became worse as he started school in the fall. His accent made him stand out like a sore thumb, and many of his fellow classmates,  mostly the other boys, teased him on a constant basis.  It was no different on that day in gym class.  He was all white legs, long, gangly and awkward.  When they were told to pair off, he'd approached another lad and all the kid could do was laugh. A bit over dramatically and the entire class turned to stare. That was until a voice sounded from behind him. "Oh pipe down Andrew, we all know ya still wet the bed!" Ronans blue eyes glanced behind him, and there she stood.  Nearly a foot or more shorter than him, her hands perched on her hips, a scowl on her face. Her blonde hair, nearly as white as snow, was parted and hung in two braids, one on either side of her face. Her eyes were blue like the sky, he felt like he could get lost in them. She took a step towards him and a smirk pulled her lips. "I'll be your partner. Don't let those guys get to ya. They are just mad cuz they have small dicks." Ronan couldn't stop his jaw from falling at her foul mouth. All he knew was that he liked this girl with blonde hair and a feisty demeanor, and he wanted to know more about her.

The First Time I Kissed Your Lips:

Ronan had grown rather fond of Juliet in the couple of months since they'd met in gym class. They'd eat lunch together and he'd walk her home after school nearly every day. The day he'd finally gotten the nerve to ask her to the winter formal, all she said was "Bout time." Her head cocked to the side as she reveled in his nerves. Ro had never been fond of school activities like dances, but there was something about going with Jules that intrigued him. And when he'd arrived at her house that night, driven by his father, and saw her in the sparkly blue dress that matched her eyes, he knew he'd made the right decision. Having never danced before he was sure they looked odd together. He towered over her even then, but when she rested her cheek against his chest, while they slow danced to Elvis' Can't help falling in love, he silently thanked god for his height. Little things from that dance stuck out in his mind even all these years later. The way her perfume, which he was sure she'd borrowed from her mum, overtook his senses. How her face lit up as he twirled her around and as his dad taught him, dipped her graciously. The one thing he'd never forget, a memory that plays over in his mind like a movie, is how her eyes locked on his, the rest of the crowded gymnasium vanishing, as their lips met and she stole every last bit of air from his lungs. Ronan knew if he could keep kissing her forever, he'd gladly never have air again.

The First Time I Lay With You:

Ended up a bechloe drabble. Tomorrow’s drabble will be the part two since I wasn’t able to finish it today. Disclaimer: I don’t own pitch perfect or any of its characters. ——

You don’t want to admit it, especially not to your dad, but the past year has been hard.

Really hard.

Though hesitant, your dad let you skip college and helped you get settled in L.A. so you could gain some ground in the music industry.

It’s not a money problem. You aren’t knee deep in bills and struggling to get by. You weren’t naïve enough to think you would immediately make it big. You did the sensible thing and got a stable paying day job. What you didn’t anticipate was a year going by and not being even an inch closer to doing what you set out to do here. All you’ve been able to do is become a reclusive bum.

You don’t have any friends. You live on takeout and microwaveable meals. You barely get any sleep. You don’t leave your apartment unless you have work or you need to buy something. Worst of all, you haven’t even tried to get your music out there because you are held back by the fear of rejection.

You’re frustrated at yourself for letting this happen.

That’s why on this new year’s eve you’ve decided to make a list of resolutions.

Make a new friend Eat healthy Get enough sleep Get out more Take a risk

Only five. That shouldn’t be too difficult. You’re determined to shove down all your fears, insecurities, and anxiety so that you can get your life back on track. You can do this.

Wrong. You can’t do it.

You’ve started conversations with people from work, from your apartment building, even from the grocery store. The encounters end up with the person either pissed, annoyed, or just weirded out.

You only lasted a week eating food you’ve cooked on your own before you gave up. Everything you made either tasted horrible or wasn’t edible.

In an attempt to sleep at a decent hour instead of staying up all night making mixes, you are in bed by 9:30 and wait for sleep to come. It doesn’t. You lay there awake for hours.

You do get out more at least. You’ve become a regular at a bar right beside your apartment complex. You’re finally spending some time in the outside world, but then again all you do there is sit and drink alone. You could do that at your apartment, so maybe this doesn’t really count as getting out more.

They hold amateur nights at the bar. Performing would definitely count as taking a risk. You made a set list. You practiced the performance. You even sign up. In the end you don’t show up to perform.

A month has passed and you are at the bar seated at your now usual spot. You are holding the paper containing the list of resolutions you made. It fell out of your wallet when you took out some money to pay for your drink. It’s frustrating to look at. You just want to rip it up. You were about to, but a voice stops you.

“Hi”

You look up and there is now a red headed girl with blue eyes seated beside you. You aren’t sure how to react. No one has ever sat beside you what more struck up a conversation with you.

“What’s that?” she says pointing at the piece of paper in your hand. “New year’s resolutions” you finally reply. She takes the paper from you and reads through the short list. “You haven’t done any of these yet?” Your face heats up in embarrassment as you nod yes. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pen. She writes something on your list and hands it back to you.

You search for what she has added. Turns out she crossed something out.

‘Make a new friend’

You look back up and she’s got a smile so wide you can’t help but smile back. You are absolutely dumbfounded by her boldness.

“My friends call me Chloe” “I’m Beca”

You never thought you would have to battle again. Never thought once more you’d be on the warpath against indigo bloods.

Never thought you would have reason to be afraid of facepaint again.

And yet here you are, terrified but alert, floating with psiioniics as you watched the battle unfold. You lash out here and there at lowbloods who get too close, planning an attack strategy to take them all out at once.

That’s when you see him. Horns twisted and towering, face painted with horrifying fangs that you still remembered with fear, and his eyes glowing red as he hoisted his club stained with the blood of your allies. You falter, frozen for a moment in fear and you see him look right at you, meet your glowing eyes with his own. At first you think it must be a different one, must be someone from another timeline.

The wireless has been turned up to full blast, as the words came screeching throughout Caelum’s flat. Accidental magic, the announcer stated, and as soon as Caelum heard that, he knew he had been right to worry about the Ignotum. They were not as safe as everyone made them out to be. They had no experience with handling magic, with wielding a wand, none of it. Every moment they spent lurking on the street, or in their shitty housing was another moment that is family was in danger. 

Accidents. That was how it would all start. Just like the previous two wars started. Disappearances. Then accidents. It was always how things began, in a way that rarely seemed threatening, but always became. Waiting now seemed like a ridiculous notion, so Caelum started to write down things he remembered learning while he mingled with the threats:

Lack of real world knowledge

No experience in handling magic

Does not like confined spaces

Too stubborn, not easily trained

Sense of entitlement

Poor housing

Maintain healthy diets

Repressed trauma, usually relating to the termination of other Ignotum

Could be other traumas?

The list was growing longer after every interaction, and soon it would be time to start meeting with people who had real power. Every passing day was another moment where accidental magic could lead the entire wizarding world in a spiral it may not come back out of. Caelum paced impatiently, angry at himself for being so careless and taking too longer to try and formulate proper plans. Still--he had done a good enough job convincing most Ignotum that he wasn’t their enemy, and that plan seemed to work the more he spoke with them.

On slow nights such as these, Daniel had a habit of calling his friends in other police departments across Britain. Mostly because he knew they’d be awake, doing the same thing he was, twiddling their thumbs, itching for something to do. Most of them were surprised with how quiet London was, and while Daniel agreed, he was also relieved. For once it wasn’t his city falling apart; it was someone else’s turn. That, in itself, was not the usual attitude Daniel held, but at the moment, on the end of a long shift, he couldn’t help himself. Many of his mates worked in smaller departments, and there were rarely any firearms specialists among them, so really, what he was doing, was for as much the citizen’s benefit as his own.