#phylicity carr

You’re upset.

Slightly inebriated and head beginning to pound, you rub at your lips. Eugh, you can still taste him there. Or maybe it was just your imagination, he’d long since run off after you’d had to tell him twice to stop and get a little physical, forcefully pushing him away from you.

Rubbing your lips again, you blinked back the sting of frustrated tears, continuing your trek back to your dorm. Or at least that was the plan until you almost bumped into the Dean. It’s on the tip of the tongue to tell the man what you’d gone through, what Samir attempted to do, what he was capable of—

And then you noticed the ring.

Feeling a pit open up in your stomach, you just barely tear your gaze away and only then to question (interrogate) him carefully. Though you’d like to think it wasn’t the Dean who’d taken pictures of you while in the shower on your first day, he was giving you all-around bad vibes. Just what the fuck did he mean he was “ever watchful?” More like mcfucking negligent with how Samir just got to run around unchecked...!

Even after you got back to your dorm and stripped out of the dress you’d been wearing, took a quick shower, moisturized and redressed in clean clothes, reclining lazily in your desk chair, that feeling of doom wouldn’t leave you be.

So you picked up your cellphone and texted the one person who you could always count on when things really mattered.

You rolled your eyes and huffed.

Although Mal is your older cousin, y’all argued like blood siblings 24/7 growing up together and they enjoyed giving you a hard time.

Lovingly, of course, she’d insist.

Before you could get out of the clean clothes (again) and shimmy in bed with just your panties (no Trish and you’d be under the covers, door and window locked 🤷🏽‍♀️), your phone began to ring insistently.

Rolling your eyes heavenward, you answered, clicking the button that set the call to speakerphone, “Hello?” The greeting had more attitude than you intended but it was out there now.

There’s a muffled sound like the person on the other end was shifting around. “L’l miss thing, dontchu be catchin’ an attitude wit me!” Although trying to sound serious and scolding, her voice cracks halfway and she breaks into helpless giggles.

Shaking your head, you can’t help but join in, chuckling a bit. “I’m sorry,” Stretching the final word, you turn it into a bit of a high note or hum. “You got me when I was ‘bout to catch some z’s.”

“‘Catch some z’s?’” The next chuckle created a bit of static over the phone. “Nah, nah, nah. We’re overdue for some quality bonding time.” There’s a moment’s pause. “Plus I already left my second job early. I’m outside yo school, so come on already…”

Exasperation warred with a smidgen of guilt as you popped up from the chair, snagging your book bag and tossed the folder containing your upcoming class papers, and some PJs and toiletries. Lastly, you tied the drawstrings tight, shoving your arms through the straps as you swung the book bag onto your back, snagging your phone off the desk after. “I’m on my way down but you really didn’t have to come if you were at work.”

Clicking their tongue, Mal sighed. “Just pick up the pace, please. The iron wrought gates realllllly give me bougie vibes and remind me of Saccharine Summit.”

The call disconnected before you could inquire about when and why they’d gone there. Just in time too as you twisted the knob of your dorm door, testing to make sure that it was locked before you hustled down the hall. Shoving your cellphone in your pocket, you shouted a distracted, “Sorry!” in the direction of the person you nearly bumped into while in your hurry to leave.

Walking the campus grounds at night, once again, is a bit odd in a way but you did your best to ignore the feeling. This is different than what Dean Monroe does and you’re pretty sure he had more motives than spousal issues as the only reason. Shaking your head, you find yourself breaking into a grin as you caught sight of the person leaning leisurely against the beat-up dark blue SUV parked outside the school gates, left leg propped up against the passenger door, tapping away on their cellphone.

Oblivious to your presence, for now, you take the time to take note of the changes your cousin had undergone during the summer. Much to your exasperation, you see that they’ve once again shot up in height, towering over most people, and definitely taller than yourself; though at this point, it’s just a staple of life. Mal is as tall as a tree and kept climbing while you plateaued at eighth grade and weren’t getting any taller (and boy, oh boy, did you try).

“Malicia!” You called out to her, waving and slipping out the school gates as they looked up at last. Mal beamed, genuine happiness to see you visible in those gray eyes, showing off pearly white teeth and that playful, dimpled smile that screamed mischief. Picking up speed, you managed two more steps before she caught you up in a warm hug, the action familiar and making you feel safe.

“Lookit, you!” After a few minutes, they pulled back to give you a quick once over. “My oh my, what have you been up to over the summer?” With a grin, Mal playfully leered at you, a knowing twinkle to their gaze.

Spluttering with fake indignation and good humor, you lightly slapped a hand against their stomach, rolling your eyes as they clutched at the area in exaggerated hurt. “Dumby, shut up! I’m more interested in what you been up to! Ya been hush-hush all summer about ya whereabouts and secretive on your socials,” You ticked off the reasons on your fingers. “And so has Stephen. Not to mention, is that…” Squinting for a moment, your eyes then widen. “Is that a tattoo!?”

Slapping a hand to the right side of their neck, hiding what looked to be a small flower (?) tattoo, their eyes darted around, uncharacteristically flustered. If it weren’t impossible with their skin tone, they’d definitely be blushing, you bet. “Just get in the car, aight?”

Cheesing now, you watched as Mal practically stomped around to the driver’s side of the car. Pulling on the passenger side door, you got inside and closed your door, tossing your bookbag onto the backseat floor before buckling up. Turning to your cousin, you’re about to pile on the questions but the radio turned on, automatically switching to Spotify and blasting Do We Have a Problem? by Nicki Minaj. The two of you exchanged a glance and then y’all are in sync, singing and laughing, acting a whole goofy mess and without a care in the world, cruising down the darkened lanes of Sugardale.

You’re snapping your fingers and rolling ya neck as the last of the beat tapered off and the next song, an old-school Keyshia Cole banger you ain’t heard in a while, started to play. Mal reached out and pressed the button on the screen to turn the volume down, but before you could complain you saw the police cruiser pulling up in the next lane.

Biting your bottom lip, you kept your gaze pointed forward to the darkened streets, trying to keep calm and collected. You hadn’t realized you’d been tapping repeatedly at the middle console until Mal grasped your hand tight; any other time you’d complain about the pressure but right now it’s comforting. Moments pass and just when you worry that y’all are going to get pulled over, the car drives past, siren blaring, and turns the corner. Exhaling quietly, you tried to calm your racing heart and almost succeeded until you realized exactly where y’all are.

“You live in Toffee Springs?”

Sharply, Mal turned to look at you, just as she pulled up into the driveway of a rundown two-story house. Before the interrogation could truly begin, the front door opened and a familiar figure strode outside and walked down the stairs. The young, tattooed Asian man went to the backside of the car on the driver’s side and you heard the locks disengage. He pulled open the back door and an overhead light came on, right as he began to grab the contents off the backseat.

“Put that on the kitchen table please, Jay. Phylicity, help him out would you? Where is Triggs and, oh, there’s Stephen. Never mind then.”

The stranger, whom you turned down the offer to give you a ride downtown to Honeywood, and the same guy who was nice enough to stick around at the bus stop with you for as long as possible before outside factors made him leave, glanced to the front, where you’re sitting in the passenger seat.

Battling with awkwardness at the weird situation, yet still opting to be courteous, you smiled and lightly waved in his direction as a greeting but he didn’t do much besides continuing on with his task, hefting the contents underneath each arm and stepping backward, letting the car door swing close, heading back to the house.

Well.

Alright then.

Rolling your eyes heavenward, you unbuckle your seatbelt and quickly get out of the car.

“L’l sis!” Stephen’s excited yell nearly ruptures your eardrums as you’re caught up in a one-sided hug. Blinking, you laughed shortly, as for the second time tonight, you find your face squished against a clean white t-shirt smelling of something subtly sweet, probably his cologne.

After a few moments, close to half a minute of one-sided hugging, you patted his stomach, the nonverbal signal to let go which he did after gently pinching your cheek.

Irritated now, you swatted at him which he dodged with insulting ease, darting back to the car, dark green eyes glinting with amusement.

“Go in the house, we got this!”

If Mal is as tall as a tree, Stephen is a skyscraper comparably. He towered over men and women alike without effort and was even taller than Mal themself. The adults back in Bitterby had often joked that he’d sprouted from the womb fully grown and as he stood near the car, gesturing for Triggs to hand over the items in his hold, you could see it.

Shaking your head, you jog up the stone steps, striding across the small expanse, hand outstretched to touch the front doorknob when abruptly, the door swung open again. Standing there in the doorframe, blocking the entrance is Jay. Mouth pulling itself into a small frown, you start to go left, “‘Scuse me,” The phrase is half-assed, gaze darting to the right side of his profile, more interested in catching a peek of the house’s interior and feet already in motion.

Only Jay’s also thinking the same thing apparently, going left as well.

“Ay! Careful…” You’d nearly bumped into him and quickly shuffled backward before you could tread over his shoes. Ever experienced that stupid awkward shuffle thing, where Person A is going in one direction, expecting Person B to go the opposite way?

But they defy expectations and common sense and keep getting in the way?

Yeah, apparently that’s a thing that happens in reality.

The two of y’all are trapped in this hellish cycle for what feels like an eternity but in reality might have been a couple of seconds, before Jay just moves to the right, gesturing you to enter first.

You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly dart inside.

To the right, on the cream-colored walls are hooks for coats, hats, umbrellas, etc. An umbrella stand with at least three umbrellas neatly stacked inside beneath the wall hooks, and a shoe rack sits near the umbrella stand, adjacent to the spiraling wooden staircase leading to the upper level. Giving a quick glance to the left, there’s a door that’s half-opened.

Toeing off your shoes, an ingrained habit keeping you from walking around in outdoor footwear, leaving tracks, you neatly stack them in a spare space. Hearing the others come back up the front steps and not wanting to get in the way, you pushed open the door on the left, hand blindly reaching out for a light switch on the wall, as the room is pitch black, sighing with relief, and entered the room.

And stared.

The walls in this room sport a rich black wallpaper with bulbous bright yellow orbs stamped at random intervals that almost seemed to glow beneath the fluorescent lighting provided by the ceiling fan/light and the tall lamp in the upper left corner of the room. There’s a wooden dining table with a gray tablecloth covering the entirety, the cloth is long, falling over the sides but not onto the floor, and several matching wooden chairs are placed around the table.

Feeling like your head is on a swivel, you walk further into the room, around the table, and up to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase.

Rows upon rows of books line the shelves.

Not just books of one genre or series, but also comics, manga, and manhwa. Hand outstretched, you’re about to take Killing Stalking off the shelf but then you heard the commotion.

It’s slightly muffled but…hm.

Deciding to hold off on getting any recreational reading done, you turn back to the door you came through and peek your head out.

It’s obvious that they’re trying to keep their voices low but you’re nosy. Tiptoeing down the hall, you linger outside the half-closed door which leads to the kitchen area presumably.

There’s a thump.

Biting the inside of your cheek, peering carefully through the crack in the doorway, you hold your breath, waiting.

It didn’t take long.

"Shut.... mannnn, I swear on everything-" There's that familiar aggressive undertone prevalent in Stephen's voice that he's trying to contain. "You goofy ass muhfucka! You was standin' right there, you heard me! I told Phylicity to go in the house. I did, me, so if you got a problem..."

"That's not what he was sayin'," Jay is trying to smooth things over. "That's not what he was sayin' at all. Triggs was just-"

"I said what the fuck I said!" Triggs exploded. Jay pinched the bridge of his nose and threw up his hands in an oh-well way.  "I ain't runnin' a muhfuckin' maid and delivery service but maybe I should wit how y'all got me runnin’ ‘round doin' chores an’ shii like this my spot!”

"Who invited you here? That's what I'm trynna figure out?" Stephen retorted, completely fed up.

"Can y'all supposedly grown-ass adults act y'all age and stop yellin' and screamin' over somethin' so petty?" At last, Mal cut in, sounding completely done. "Phylicity, l’l miss thing, don't linger like that, it’s aight.  I promise, they friends, they just hotheaded."

Busted, you sheepishly pushed open the kitchen door fully and stepped inside.

To your immediate left, there’s an entryway and a door that potentially leads outside, as well as wooden stairs leading to the basement. Turning your attention forward, you see that there’s a table with aluminum pan after pan of food situated smack dab in the middle of the room. The black marble counters to the left are neat and besides the microwave and coffee machine, very little decoration.

“Do we pass inspection, l’l miss thing?”

Trying to control the rush of heat wanting to spread across your face, you poke your bottom lip at Mal who’s smirking lightly.

“You won’t be written up by the landlord at least,” With that cheeky quip and nose in the air, mimicking importance, you sweep your gaze around the room again, taking note of the black fridge and the little magnets stuck to the surface.

The stove is brand new and clean, there are no dishes in the sink.

“Nah, I’m playin’. I really like the aesthetic y’all got goin’ on here!” Gazing back at Mal as you reassured them but from the corner of your eye, you note that Stephen, leaned up against the door behind him, relaxed.

“Aight. ‘Nough o’ all that.” Stephen declared, leaning up and reaching behind him to twist the knob of the door. Opening it to reveal a pantry of sorts with all sorts of canned goods, an assortment of cereal, knock-off and name brands, plastic containers, etc.

He grabbed the bag which held paper food containers.

“Phy, plate us up, please.”

Reaching out, you accepted the food containers and placed them in an empty space on the table. You’re about to wash your hands first.

“Why she gotta plate the food up?” Triggs asked with annoyance. He was sitting at the end of the table in a chair while Jay’s leaning against the deep freezer. “It’s not like she helped bring any of it in and knowing y’all, it’s gon be someshit where she get t’ eat first ‘cause she a girl!”

Knowing Stephen, you can recognize that he’s at his limit and about to clown. Malicia sighed and their shoulders straightened, another person about finally snap.

And you just can’t.

“I was only ‘bout to plate Stephen, Mal, and myself up but go off I guess.” You manage to keep your voice calm and level, monotone even, as you went about your appointed task, filling the containers with food for three people.

Stephen and Mal definitely ate much, much more than most, you’d learned early.

You look Triggs dead in the eye, making sure that he read the truth of it all in your face - that you wasn’t scared of him, Stephen or no Stephen. Mal or no Mal. He could hoop and holler and get as l o u d as he wanted, he didn’t want the smoke if you really popped off.

Knock Out Thursdays were a tradition in Bitterby but apparently, you’d have to start it up again.

“C’mon, Triggs, man. Just chill.” Jay murmured, barely audible. He sounded as exhausted with the situation as anyone else.

There was a visible tick in Triggs’ jaw but he ended up looking away first, letting out a ‘tsk!’ like a cliché anime NPC and grumbled underneath his breath, but whatever he said was too low for you to hear anyway.

Satisfied with the outcome of this whole unnecessary debate as you may be, this debacle, along with everything that had happened tonight, made you less willing to be the proper guest that you’d been raised up to be.

“I’m not that hungry.” It’s a simple statement and only half true. You were a bit hungry, but you weren’t gonna pass out if you missed one meal. You read the protest all over Stephen’s face and held up the first container for him to take. “I’m just gon catch up on a few assignments and go to sleep.”

“Phylicity…” Stephen said lowly, a cajoling note entering his tone.

“I’ll be up in a little bit with a snack then,” Mal stated decisively, ignoring the way Stephen let out a betrayed sputter; he expected to be a united front, obviously. You’re about to reiterate that you’re not hungry but she reached out and grabbed the remaining food container from you, using her free hand to tug lightly at your left ear.

Hissing with agitation, you rub at the abused appendage, prepared to tell your cousin off but their raised eyebrow defeated you without another word uttered. You could almost hear Aunty Tara in the back of your skull, scolding you for having the audacity not to have three full course meals, and a snack, too, at least, if you were doing homework.

Rolling your eyes, you look to the left, conceding. “See you in a bit…” Turning on your heel, you’re about to stride right out of the kitchen.

“Guest room is on the end of the hallway after you get up the stairs. Can’t miss it. And I left ya bookbag at the top of the stairs.” Stephen piped in.

With a faint nod, you left the oppressive atmosphere and area, the kitchen door swinging closed after you. Placing a hand on the stair rail, you ascended the steps quickly, two at a time, until you reach the landing after the 11th step, caught your breath, as you were a bit winded, and saw your bookbag at the very top as promised. Continuing your trek, you bent down and snagged the strap, swinging it up onto its familiar position.

There are not many rooms in this hallway, four at the most.

Pressing lightly at the door of the room behind you, it opened and you see that it’s a bathroom. Nodding to yourself absently, you continue this little habit until you reach your destination at the end of the hall, and enter the room, closing the door after you see that the room, while a bit spartan, has all the required necessities.

Besides the bathroom and guest room, where you’d be sleeping, there’s a storage area, there’s no other word for it, as there are boxes marked MAL, STEPHEN, LINEN, etc, while the locked room is…

Mal’s? Stephen’s? Did they bunk together for space reasons?

Unsure of their dynamic, as in your eyes, it’d always been a little blurry. Sometimes, they acted like “regular” friends, other times, mainly Stephen, looked at Mal with such naked longing, it was pitiful as it was painful. However, sometimes, just sometimes, before the summer and their subsequent hiatus and detour from all social media, you’d caught them looking at Stephen a certain way too, always when he wasn’t looking…

‘Homework time, homework time.’ Deciding to give no more thought to it, you instead tossed your bookbag at the foot of the guest room’s bed. Then took a seat crisscross applesauce on the bed, doing some mild sprawling, twisting, and leaning, as you unzipped your bookbag and pulled out some homework that you’re determined to stay ahead of. As well as your pajamas, quietly cursing yourself for forgetting your phone charger.

Then you got into it and everything became background noise.

Time passed and although some assignments are a bit challenging, in the end, you managed to finish everything. Or mostly everything, there was one question that was getting on your nerves, but you may be overthinking it.

Cracking your knuckles idly, you turn your attention to the door after hearing a knock.

A little unnecessarily, but habitual to when you used to spend nights over the house with her and Aunt, Mal announced herself.

“It’s me and I come bearing gifts.”

Shaking your head slightly at her goofiness, you can’t ignore the little growl your stomach let out. “Come in, dumby.”

The door opened, and Mal entered, dressed in simple gray sweat pants and a sports bra, silk bonnet on her head, her choice of sleepwear showed off practically everything, which included her stretch marks and soft tummy, though it was tryna get some muscles, you guessed. “So mean, and here I thought you’d like your usual strawberry shortcake aaaaand,” Placing the paper plate with a thick slice of strawberry shortcake, as promised, on the bedside table, she pulled her other hand from behind her.

And in her hold….

“Mr. Snuffles!” It was with effort that you kept your voice at a reasonable tone but the sight of the first stuffed animal y’all ever worked on together, made you emotional. Normally that was an ew vibe, but this was a different situation.

Tonight was wild and you deserved to be a little mushy.

Just this once.

“I know you gave it to me when I moved out, but since you here, I just thought that, well…”

You didn’t bother listening to the rest of the sentence. You reached out and gingerly grasped the purple squid/squirrel creature, looking into its bulbous yellow eyes, and nostalgia flooded your body. Then you looked at your cousin and placed Mr. Snuffles in a comfortable position in the bed before reaching out, and Malicia automatically followed your move, wrapping her arms around you.

And oh, oh. There it was, there it was. Safety.

That feeling you’d need tonight.

Nothing could hurt you here, with Mal around.

Safety.

You listened to the slow, steady rhythm of their heartbeat. 

Safety.

“I missed seein’ yo big-headed butt. You gotta come over more often.” Mal’s voice is strained, you can hear the unasked question in her tone but you don’t answer it. You can’t answer that you’re okay because it’d be a lie and they always made the most disappointed face when you lied to them, but you’re getting there.

Repression had always been easy for you.

“Nah, we’d get really tired of seein’ each other all the time. It’d be like nothing changed.” You tried to assure them though.

Mal sighed and leaned back, gaze roving over your face. Whatever they saw only made the furrow in their brow deepen. “...Some things never have to change and your priority is definitely one of them.”

Uh-oh, incoming feels talk.

“Phylicity. I know you hate to hear it because you think I’m baby’ing you, but I…. You can always count on me, day or night, big or small, I’m on your side. More than my cousin, you’re my little sister, and I love you.”

“....I love you too.” The words are a whisper and your face is on fire, but still. Still, you said it.

Mal sighed softly. “I’m tempted to camp out here wit that air mattress I got,” The horror that flashes across your face makes them laugh and they tap your nose before slowly detangling from your embrace. “But I’ma leave you to your very important college homework shenanigans.” Pointing their finger in your face, they shot you a warning glance as they start to stride for the door again. “No later than 2 am, though, and I will be back to check!”

With that last parting remark, you’re left alone with your thoughts, but this time, you have Mr. Snuffles with you and suddenly, you decide to save that last question for the morning, at a reasonable-ish hour. You strip out of your clothes again for the night and get into your pajamas, then slide underneath the covers, cuddling the stuffie close to you.