Stray Kids and how many lives I think they lived before their current one
OVERALL: they feel like kids who never got to be kids. Something stopped them from doing so.
NOTE: THIS IS FOR FUN AND SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.
1. Bang Chan - 2
I think he's, at least, lived two lives before reaching his current one, with one being worse than the other. It's something in the way he chooses his words carefully and how he cares so greatly for those around him. It feels like his previous lives went through some of the worst personal experiences ever and now that he has a chance to have a bit of peace and freedom, he's free to jump between a parental role and a child role at his leisure.
2. Lee Know - 1
I think that he was broken down in his previous life, either emotionally or physically, and that's why his guard seems to always be up around awkward situations or uncomfortable moments. He's latched on to those he feels the most comfortable around and wants to protect those that could be susceptible to the worse case scenarios. Either way, he was and is the silent guardian.
3. Changbin - 1
He has a protective soul, and I believe that he was a kid tasked with something far too big. Ultimately, the feeling of failing whatever he was tasked with carried over, and that's why he can be so protective over the group and feel like he has something to prove. Though everyone assures him that he's enough, he still thinks there's growing to do and things to prove. He's thankful for the group that surrounds him though, finding safety among them.
4. Hyunjin - 2
I believe his two lives happened during the art movements of history where creativity was stunted and imagination was looked down upon. He cherishes his artistic side and wants to share it with the world. By having two lives under his belt, his creativity holds many stories just waiting to be told.
5. Han - 3
The group has said that Han is someone they all have a feeling to protect. His past lives were probably some of the worst and that's why he tries to make everyone around him happy while also being scared and meek on the inside. His past lives were probably waiting for the next worst thing to happen, so now that he has many protectors and friends, there's nothing to be afraid of when he's around them.
6. Felix - 0
I fully believe this boy is on his first life. He looks at the world with wonder and curiosity as he tries to do as much as he can before moving on to the next thing. I know we say that he has stars on his face, but have you seen the stars in his eyes? He is learning about the world and mimicking what he sees. Felix see. Felix Do.
7. Seungmin - 1
He knows when to be serious and knows when to play. I think he just lived like a normal man. He played and laughed, had a grand old time, before passing from natural causes. He has the essence of an old soul, but not a lot to fully impact his current life.
8. I.N - 1
I can pinpoint down to the age and gender of his past life, and that was as someone's grandma. He is far too good for it to be an act. Given his position as a middle child in his own family, he is the protector and the protected. This is a role he carries into the group even though he's the youngest. This is also a role I've seen most grandparents play. He is an old soul, and he embraces that.
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Steph falls in love. To her amazement (despite an embarrassing number of successful roll-checks of the d20 in the studio)...so does Alex.
Chapter Description:
In the quiet afternoon sun filled by nothing but mountain air from a cracked window and the rustling of now-dry denim that's still hanging near it, they both smile.
Yeah, there's something.
They have denim and poptarts. They have pot and rice cookers. They have Plastic Beach. They have the fact that both of them knows how much the quiet bothers the other--they have memories, now.
Water beads on the edges of hair, cascading waterfalls down her cheeks to her neck to her chest, coolâ-coldâ-coldâ-cold -ânow that a rattling AC pricks at clammy skin. curving this reckless line before they fall, forgotten, onto the scratched wood of an upstairs apartment. The cool air has settled on Stephâs cheeks until the warmth no longer permeates themâ-shields of ice masking the trembling, barely-contained water beneathâ-a womanâs bones composed of a raging, ephemeral river. Although the heat of Alexâs breath is making aâŚsurprisingly valid effort to break through, causing fissures of laughing lines where deep caverns have started to chisel into ivory, their skin pressed flush together as Alex helps hold up the curving spine of Havenâs second-most notorious but foremost drunk DJ.
Warm. Alex is warmer than the cold air, up here. If heat rises, it seems to have all risen up to Alexâs careful, curling fingers and gentle, closed-off smile.
Warm Alex. Easing Steph up against the wall as she helps unravel a sopping wet jacket off of shaking, laughing shoulders andâ-okay, yeah. Itâs kind of sad how long itâs been since someone helped Steph take off an item of clothing, let alone while she was drunk. There's a concerted effort to memorize this fact-âit will be her totally not mortifying excuse for almost smacking Alex in the nose while she wiggles out of denim in the morningâ-
Wait, she doesnât own any denim jackets. Not anymore.
Oh, rightâ-the jumbled memory of Alexâs fingertips sliding coarse fabric onto shivering shoulders once raindrops started to fall outside of the bar, the scent of alcohol and smoke and dew clinging to the air. That warm voice gently suggesting both of them come up before they drown in the puddle by the barâ
âIt just really seems like a bad idea leaving you two alone.â
âYeah,â Ryanâs sighsâ-long-winded and resignedâ-large lumbering shoulders soaking through with water in a way that will never bother him as much as it does Steph. Like a Paul Bunyan Elsa. âIt usually is.â
The jacket smelled like nostalgia--smells like nostalgia--and it wraps all around her, now, bursting up through flaring nostrils as she laughs . This sort of scent that the DM in Steph has been going crazy all night trying to placeâ-to categorize-âthis untouchable sort of unfamiliar familiarity that sheâs just labeled into the box of âAlexâ, for now, because it clings everywhere on the girl. It clings to Alexâs hair and her shuffling glasses and her closed-off fingertips and her cheeksâŚbut Steph has time to figure it out, right? Theyâve only known each other for a handful of days, now-âtheyâve got time.
(Everyone thought they had time with Gabe, too).
The smile falls, stuttering a little as Steph desperately tries to pull at the thin strains of what the hell she was talking about.
âAnd I saidâ-â
The faint sound of snoring from inside the dimly-lit room accompanies their staccato, intermingled laughter as wet denim inelegantly smacks against the scuffed wood of the floor once Alex has finally managed to peel it off, Steph swaying from the effort.
âHeyyyy now, DJ. Stay against the wall. Iâm too tired from helping carry both of you up the stairs to do any last minute rescues.â Alex catches her with wet fingertips that are somehow still so warm underneath the cool sheen of moisture covering them and helps peel Stephâs back off the wall, too.
Seriously, how is Alex soâŚsheâs really warm. Sheâs like this kind of short space heater, calm, steady voice like simmering coals by a campfire (not Stephâs scene, but sheâs sure Ryan would back her up on the analogy, if he wasnât sinking into the couch like a black hole)--
Stephâs curling body slumps over a shoulder that seems to have no problem bearing the weight of peopleâ-limbs made out of noodles and Jameson and way too much mysterious green devil shotsâ-and sighs. Seriously her cheeks are freezing and since Uven Rune shields donât actually exist, Alex is like the next best thing to it. Is it too bad to drunkenly nuzzle into a girl who she only kind of knows for all of five minutes? Previous experiences say no. Nuzzling typically goes in Steph's favor.
An owlish blink as her world goes a little upside-down, the room spinning as sheâs plopped down onto a bouncing mattress, eyes slowly taking in the room with an ache she doesnât want to placeâ-not right nowâ-before she blinks up towards Alex, instead. Itâs like a haze around herâ-everything blended in the background in shadows of this apartment a faded memoryâ-but hereâs Alex who looks so different than Gabe but still feels so familiar, being soâŚpatient andâ-
âSo what did you tell him?â Alex cuts off any those creeping, spreading shadows of thoughts like she always somehow does, adjusting glasses that had been knocked a little askew (probably from trying to help Stephâs drunk, useless ass), eyes flicking over to Ryan, whose Ryan grumbling snore skips off beat, seeming to realize theyâre both there. Waking up just enough to cough and actually breathe air before letting it out like a foghorn through his nose.
âYou guys âkay?â Itâs barely intelligible, one of those long, long legs of his swung over the edge of the couch, socked toes brushing along the pole in the middle of the apartment, other leg very uncomfortably swung to the side off of the other edge.
(At least itâs got to be uncomfortable for Ryan. She still remembers him hobbling after that one attempt at a yoga session Riley talked them into. He woodenly stomped around the bar for two days after like some kind of fascist Pinocchio, rigid and always at attention).
Alex mustâve thrown him on the couch as best as she couldâve the moment they got up. It's a pretty valiant effort. The last time Steph tried to carry him up her stairs, she barely made it to the bathtub, closer by far than the couch.
Steph snorts, âYouâre totally about to fall off the couch.â
âWha-ââ
She apparently still has the gift of prophecy. Or Ryan is really bad at reality roll-checks.
A thud. And then a grunting, intoxicated note of surprise sounds from the floor--delayed by a good five seconds-âchortling laughter the only reply from the bed. Alexâs lips quirk up at the edges, sliding over dutifully towards the couch like way too good of a person, the one lone streelight outside of the window casting her bare, denim-jacket-less-shoulders in its warm, persistent glow. It bathes over her like a delicate spotlight on an outdoor set. It dances along Alexâs hair and her glinting glasses and her tired eyes and Steph canât shake the image from her mind. Even as Paul-Bunyan-Elsa apologizes profusely while Alex inelegantly flops him back onto the couch. It's stuck.
She won't remember all that much from tonight (she'll remember more than she expects) but she'll definitely remember this.
âSorry, Alexâ-Iâm normallyâŚnormally not like thiâ-â
âHeâs always like this.â Steph protests. Itâs slurred, but itâs still true. Then again, Steph nearly falls off of the bed trying to untie her shoe, struggling to curl frayed laces with clumsy, normally completely deft (she swears) fingertips.
âMiraculously, I believe both of you exactly enough to get me out of picking a side.â Alex chirps from the couch now that Ryanâs fully on top of it, walking back over toâ-
âHoly shit, are you actually helping me with my shoes, right now? Oh my God, I love you.â
âSo what did you tell him?â
âHuh?â
âYou were telling a story.â Alex reminds, fingers skimming through the loops like a brush through hair, totally effortless, smiling up at her with nothing short of amusement.
A story?
Right.
WaitâŚwhat was she talking about, again?
âThe guy that wanted to be your manager.â Alex pipes in perfectly, like she always seems to do.
Right .
âAnd I said, look, itâs not aboutâ-not about the chicks! Like, who even calls girls chicks?â
âTotally. Although...you.â That small little smile curves up further. Itâs kind of nice. Steph hasnât seen Alex smile all that muchâ-not since the first day they-â âYou...definitely called me a chick literally in the first five seconds of meeting you.â
âThis was not a poll question, Chen.â
âI think itâs disrespectful to call women chicks.â Ryan offers from the couch, muffled a little now that heâs seemingly flopped onto his stomach.
âNot. A poll.â Steph re-iterates (and resists tossing her shoe at him across the room because this is Gabeâsâ-Alexâs, fuck Alexâsâ-apartment and she might break something; sheâd also have to lean down and grab her shoe and that seems like a lot ).
âNo, I was agreeing with you.â Itâs a whine into his bed for the night.
âOh.â A quiet laugh, looking back towards Alex, bouncing her now-free foot. âRight. See? Ryan gets it. We can call us chicks but not-chicks cannot call us chicks unless theyâre chicks. Not in the way he said chicks, like he was looking at us like we were actual livestock. So I told the guy to get lost andâ-holy shit,â Steph leans forward a little too quickly, wobbling a little from the lack of equilibrium as she does to snatch up the shoe with a spreading, spreading smile-âa thing of awe and wonderâ- âDid you just snort ?â
âAaaalright, Steph, youâre gonna have to help me get you onto the bed.â
âHey! No deflecting. A snort? Thatâs adorable-ââ
âSteph,â Alex rolls her eyes and snatches back away the shoe to toss it towards the entryway, shoving the girlâs shoulder so that she flops back onto the bed, but sheâs not easily deterred, leaning up onto one shoulder, hips slowly sliding down the edge of it as she does.
And amazinglyâŚAlex laughs. She stands up fully over Steph, whoâs certifiably Patrick-Starrâed her bed, slowly falling off the edge of it, and smiles. Like a full smile, the kind that people write songs aboutâ-write entire albums aboutâ-write post-band-break-up albums aboutâ-
And Steph pauses a beat.
âWow, you haveâŚthe best smile Iâve ever seen.â
âYour endless charm? Itâs not helping you get on the bed, right now.â
âWeird. Toootally where my charm gets me, usually. Into beds.â Stephâs smile spreads past a smirk into verifiable goofy territory as her ass hits the ground with a dull thud, âThat was a good one. I mean my joke. It was good. Like, wouldâve totally gotten viewers on air good.â
Alexâs laugh remainsâ-this breathy, rumbling thing, like a drum kit thatâs been shoved in a closet for too long, dust bouncing along its surface when it sees good use for the first time in ages. Those warm, damp fingers curve into Stephâs side, shirt barely riding up over knuckles as she helps flop Steph back over the bed, a little practiced. How many people has Alex done this for, anyways?
Steph makes a mental note to let Alex be the drunk and not the drunk-sitter, sometime.
âYeah, okay, Iâll give you that. Mightâve landed better if you werenât,â A grunt and Steph shivers at the cold when Alexâs fingers leave, but doesnât notice for longâ-not when sheâs already crawling forward towards bundled up sheets, nuzzling into them like Valkyrie does when no oneâs looking. âSlurring, though.â
âSlurring is part of my charmâ-oh my God, are you taking off my other shoe right now? You are just so nice. â A frustrated groan thatâs nothing but smile as she rolls almost a little too far off the bed, head thudding against the dresser. She barely catches Alexâs wince. âIt didnât hurt.â
âIt will tomorrow.â
âHmmâŚyeah, probâly. Câmereâ-â Several pats on the bed next to her, other arm already thrown over eyes. âCanât just take your bed thatâsâŚso not cool.â
âIâŚdonât know, Stephâ-â
âWhat are you gonna do, sleep downstairs?â
âWouldnât be the first time Iâve slept in a bar.â
âWe can unpack that tomorrow. Iâm not stealing your bed, Alex.â She might not be sober, but sheâs certainly adamant, â RyanâsâŚalready drooling into your couch and Iâm not that drunk, I promise. Thereâs, like⌠no Ubers in Haven but I can totallyâ-and I mean totally--go home if youâre not cool with sharingâ-â Stephâs head lolls upwards to see Alex hovering over her, shuffling, hands stuffing up those cute, fitting glasses. âSeriously, how are you so cute ?â
Another laugh from Alex and Steph really, really likes the sound of it, watching the light from the hall bathe her cheeks in soft, amber hues. Itâs a different sort of lightâ-different than the streetlight. âNot really pleading your case for sobriety, Steph.â
âWhat, because I said you were hot?â
âYouâŚactually said cute-ââ
âOh, well I was thinking hot,â Steph shrugs, rolling over on the pillow. It must smell like Alex. Maybe Steph still canât really place what Alex smells like, but this definitely doesnât smell like Gabe. Eventually, the bed dips and Steph cracks open an eye to a completely dark room and Alexâs silhouette, highlighted by only the street light outside, shifting underneath the covers Stephâs pinning down from on top, only a thin layer of fabric barrier between them. âGabe used to do this for us all the time, yâknow,â The slurring might be from near sleep, now, and she sighs at the suffocating feeling thatâs not numbed nearly enough by alcohol for this thought-train. âSeems like the Chens are good people.â
Steph canât see Alexâs face in the shadowsâ-she hopes thereâs a smile there. But the truth is without that hope, all Steph knows is that thereâs just...this. This comforter, shadows, and space. Just this.
â...A few of us Chens were okay. Gabe was definitely one of them.â
âThanks for taking care of our drunk asses, âlex.â Itâs slurred and sleepy and sighing, sinking into the bed, kicking away some of the covers to inelegantly try to roll underneath them. Sheâs surprised when a quiet chuckle greets her and warmth envelops her, Alex tucking the soft comforter around her just like she had that jacket. Freshly washed. Gabeâs blanket always smells like mildewâ-like dustâ-the kind of thing never used, tucked away in a closet and stained from friendâs beers and slobber (in Ryanâs case) from their drunken stays.
Smelled. Past tense.
But now it smells like the pillowâlikeâŚwhat is this? Whatâs Alex smell like, anyways?
Is that a creepy thought? Is it creepy that she keeps coming back to it? Itâs like when you canât remember the name of a song and you just keep humming it all day andâ-
Whatever.
She cuddles closer into the blanketâ-
âSorryâ-â she might mumble or think or hum when she brushes up against Alex, knowing the other girl likes her space.
âNo, itâs okay. No itâsâŚâ Alexâs voice is practically wind it settles so softly between them and Steph fights so hard to open her eyes to see herâ-to see a glimpse of her, now that sheâs not blinded by darkness. And thereâs Alex, glasses set somewhere other than her nose. Steph can barely see her, curled in on herselfâŚso rigid in the bed, like she doesnât know how to settle into it. Like maybe she never has. âItâs okay. Itâs kind of nice, not being alone in here, I guess. It gets pretty quiet. Freakishly quiet.â
Maybe Alex is used to the city-âto cars and trains and yelling, outsideâ-used to thin walls and something more than just the sound of breathing. It used to suffocate Steph when she got hereâ-all this fresh air; all this open sky; all this soft peace-âit reminded her too much of home. If she closed her eyes at night, sheâd hear the ocean instead of the mountainsâ-sheâd hear the faint whir of a lighthouse instead of the buzz of the singular streetlight outside of her apartment window, all the way down mainstreet, too far out of reachâ-
âKnow what you mean.â Steph sleepily searches and searches and searches those features, alcohol muting into exhaustion before she reaches forward to thoughtlessly wrap arms around Alex in the only comfort her brain thinks to provide. Itâs probably not much, tangling cold, damp biceps around warm heater arms as she sags like bricks into the pillow, but itâs what Steph can give. âDonât worry,â She mumbles. She wonât realize Alex tenses until the bleary hours of the morning, when horror and regret always set in after Jameson. Right now, all she thinks is to reassure her that it wonât be quiet, at all: âRyan snores.â
She falls asleep to the quiet sound of Alexâs laughter and the feeling of tense muscles relaxing beneath Stephâs touch.
Itâs a total cliche in the morning. Like, a total absolute fucking cliche .
Itâs not Stephâs first rodeo at waking up from way too fucking many at the Lantern. Itâs actually a very, very familiar feeling.
The birds are twittering out of the windows so loudly that Ryan is seemingly trying to identify them in a series of morse code snorts from the couch in his sleep. The sun is bright enough that itâs likely later than Ryanâs supposed to be awakeâŚand itâs definitely bright enough to burn a hole through Stephâs skull-âwhich means itâs probably close to when Steph is supposed to slam down some form of caffeine and make her way towards the booth. But sheâs not in a rush.
Because whatâs not familiar is the warmth. Gabeâs scratchy, smelly-ass blanket and pillow and too-close dresser are replaced with a very throbbing (bruised? Fuck) head and a soft, clean scent, andâ-
Fingers flex and the feeling of skin is unmistakable underneath them. The momentary drunken panic of waking up with someone (especially in a town where she literally knows way too much about everyone ) is immediately replaced by the soft hum of someone shiftingâŚcloser, that scent tickling the back of Stephâs nose as hair brushes her cheek and her chin andâ-
Itâs worth bracing the way-too-bright to realize Alex Chen is the warm weight, hot, sleep-pulled breath spun like fine silk gently skimming along Stephâs ticklish neck in a way that makes a hungover heart pick up, just a bit. Eyes barely widen, this⌠ache swelling up within her breathless chest, blinking and blinking and blinking away sleep before tense muscles relax into the clean, musk-free sheets. Guilt doesnât last for long when Alex shifts closer a second time when Steph pulls back, and she takes full stock of the situation with as clear of a mind as she can aim for: bare ankles tangled; a bunched up shirt skimming below Stephâs knuckles where sheâs held her close throughout the night; comforters bunched up by Stephâs hips from where she probably got too hot, but presumably (drunkenlyâ-stupidly) pulled Alex closer anyways.
Itâs been a year since Steph held anyone like this, and even then that lasted for all of a weekend beforeâŚwell, it was never going to work out, anyways.
And the last time she held Izzie like this, sheâ-
A quiet sigh.
Itâs been longer than a year that Steph woke up like this and didnât grind her teeth into the bitter copper urge to run.
Everything else about the apartment is the same, isnât it? Save for this small little corner of it. This small little bed with small little sheets and small little, fire-warm Alex Chen curling into her body in her heavy sleep. Everything else is the same. Stephâs hand gently smooths up the curve of Alexâs back to the rumbled fabric of a shirt spread across shoulders, pressing Alex a little closer in apology for pulling away while eyes once more flutter closed. This is the most relaxed sheâs seen Alex all weekâ-and maybe Stephâ-
Maybe Steph--
Maybe the station can wait a little while longer. Itâs not quiet up hereâ-not with the birds and Ryan snoring and the gentle, soft sound of Alexâs breath brushing along her ear like the soft pulling tides of Arcadia Bay. The familiarity doesnât unnerve her, even though maybe it should.
Itâs a cliche, but itâs still a cliche she needs.
Sleeping a little longer doesnât seem like such a bad idea.
â â â â â â â â â and that was e m p i r e a n t s wrapping up your afternoon delight â â tune into KRCT for more where that came from, your little haven away from haven springs â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
âHow many did you take?â Steph muffles laughter behind her curving palm, teeth tucking into a lower lip.
âUhâŚenough that I canât tell whether or not my legs are actually on the ceiling and my head is really on the floor? Or maybe my headâs on the ceiling and my feet are on theâ-â Itâs curious-âa little disoriented. âAre my feet on the ceiling? I think my feet are on the ceiling.â
Steph can personally attest to Charlotteâs gummy-bear goods: Alex soundsâŚvery, very chill, at least. Eyes flick upwards towards the light hanging above blinking a garish red hue across the soft sound-proofing of a booth.
âYou do know that you called me at the radio station, right?â
âYeah.â Very, very chill.
âNo, Alex, like⌠at the station.â
âYeah.â Too chill.
Both lips pull in this time to keep from laughing.
âAs in, youâre on air right now.â
Thereâs a long, long pause. A very hilarious long, long pause, as the horror of reality likely makes it through Alex Chenâs blitzed as fuck mind. And okay, maybe Steph enjoys it just a little bit.
âYouâre enjoying this waaaay too much, Chen.â Stephâs head falls harder than the beat in âEmpire Antsâ, thudding into a slackened, useless palm.
âOh, yeah. Totally.â Alex blows the steam away from the curving edge of a mug, the logo of the nearby high school team emblazoned proudly on its chipped side. The steam curves warm fingertips beneath Stephâs chin, practically beckoning red eyes slowly upwards to slit at Alexâs now-familiar smile, endless sunlight sinking into dark hair. âHey, you wouldnât be so hungover if you just believed that I am absolutely better than you at the Jukebox game.â
âItâs witchcraft.â
âUnsanctioned witchcraft. Iâm not in a coven.â
âIâm not convinced. But you are the nicest witch Iâve ever met, even if you keep laughing at my pain. I canât believe you made me breakfast after taking care of my sloppy drunk ass last night.â
âTheyâre pop-tarts.â Alex argues, but thereâs something soft in her eyes, âMy only two specialties are this and rice from a rice cooker, so youâre just lucky these were even in the kitchen because Gabe does not have a rice cooker.â
âTheyâre better specialties than quick-dialing the only chinese place in Haven.â
âI donât know, thatâs a pretty useful specialty.â
âMaybe I can show you for lunch. Want to meet me at the booth? Iâve got to repay your endless kindness somehow.â
A denim jacket hangs from an open window nearby, its heavy weight now fluttering in the soft Colorado mid-morning breeze. Alex shuffles her glasses and looks out towards it and then towards the small, closed-off kitchen thatâs been cleaned of all the clutter Gabe had left behind. Their eyes meet again and thereâs somethingâ-thereâs something there-âbut Alex just smiles.
Itâs somehow the only thing that makes sense in the world, the fact that Steph doesnât feel weird at all at offering-âat knowing Alex is welcome here, now, and has found a place in the cold spaces of Stephâs drunken arms anytime, if she needs them. Theyâre friends, now, from more than just shitty, thrown-together circumstance. They have denim and poptarts. Thatâs something, if Steph helps add onto the wager, isnât it?
Thatâs something.
After a long moment, Alex smilesâ-quiet and calm and slim, but there-âand just simply says:
âOkay.â
And it seems like the bag of pot Steph had taped to Alexâs door in both gratitude and an intention to up that wager has had its successful conclusion.
â...shiâ-â
Steph, being the phenomenally kind friend that she is, immediately presses the mute, âAnd that could be you, too, Havenites! Yes, the mystiqueâ-the intrigueâ-the idea that your head could actually be floating above you in an endless cycle of bliss and potential confusion if you donât follow the very clear instructions on the packet. If youâre over 21, go down to the Silver Dragon and buy your premium, never-fail supply, today! However, all of your good friends here at the station-âwhich is just me-âremind you to always partake safely and preferably while sharing. Again, with me. Nervous or unsure of how to go about your first foray? Ask our favorite genus-genius and Silver Dragon owner Charlotte who will guide you through like a pro. Located across from your own favorite record store, the Silver Dragon has low prices, high quality, and a great time in store, just for you. Alright, everybody, weâve got a life-changing line-up prepared for you for the next ad-freeâŚâ Her head bounces back and forth as she decides, looking down at her now-lit phone for the time before figuringâ â...hour. Tonight and tonight only-âarenât you lucky? Only here at KRCT, your own little Haven from Haven Springs.â
Thereâs no time wasted flicking up the mute switch on the mic and Alexâs snickering laughter is contagious through the line only a second later. Stephâs kind of bummed she missed her going through the five stages of high (paranoia; anxiety; abject horror; resignation; laughter at how funny the blinds look, probably) by the time the ancient landline is once more pressed against her ear, the laughter a little louder.
âOkay, so that means you took all of them.â Itâs not exactly the craziest conclusion to jump to-âespecially when Alex just keeps laughing.
âIâm sorry-âIâ-â Alex clearly canât seem to stop laughing, âIâm not used to real drugs! Iâm used to the ones you get from sketchy neighbors named BillyâŚwhoâs a kind of hypocritical flat-earther drug dealer who lives next to a Lowes dumpster? And has a sign not to trust the government. Whoâs willing to sell it to you for very, very cheap for your kind of friendâs birthday party.â
âDid you get that from a really lame after-school PSA?â Alex laughs harder and Steph canât help but smile. Yeah, the laugh is really infectious, âOkay, Iâm funny, but Iâm not that funny. Iâm officially concerned and coming over.â
âNo! Iâm okay, really. I just texted Charlotteâ-â
âDid she say you took too many?â
âDefinitely. I might have also called her pretty. But Iâm fine!â
âOk. Sure.â Steph shifts the landline on her ear, leaning up against the board, âJust stop laughing and Iâll stay right here.â Thereâs only two seconds before Alex starts cracking up, again, and Steph canât help itâ-the smile grows. âYeah, no, Iâm not missing this prime blackmail material. Me coming over? Itâs actually very selfish.â
âThe radio!â
âIs on auto-pilot. I just debuted commercial-free, music--only for the next hour. Iâll get Ryan to swing by and lock up.â
âCanât someone break in and change the music? Do you want someone playing Miley Cyrus on your conscience? I donât.â Alex sounds unnervingly serious, all of the sudden, and Steph pulls out the keys from her pocket. Locks to the studio. Locks to the store. Locks to an apartment that havenât changed and Alex hasnât asked for.
âIf someone wants to break into the record store, leave all of the records, and then break into the booth, and only play a Miley Cyrus song, I think we have worse things to worry about. Although I guess it depends on the song.â
â Start All Over is kind of nostalgic, I guessâ-â
âYeah, youâre high. Just stay put, Chen, Iâll be over in fifteen.â
âButâ-â
Landlines are much better about hanging up with that really satisfying click. Ancient, but really serve a point.
A quick call to Ryan, a locked up studio, and a small handful of bar patrons giving her a knowing look as she rushes up the bar stairs later, Steph Gingrich opens up Gabeâsâ-Alexâs-âdoor to the sight of the other girl laying on the floorâŚsave for her feet that she seems extraordinarily concentrated on holding in exact, precise position.
Up in the air, perpendicular to the ceiling. Stock-still, firm as a board.
âWhat the fuck, Alex?â Itâs Stephâs turn to double over with laughter, the abject terror in Alexâs eyes turning conflicted at the sight of the other girl materializing.
Alexâs arms throw out in frustration, anger, and confusion...and way, way, way too much pot gummies causing a mess of conflict that bubbles out in her frustrated voice. The struggle is visibly real:
âYou told me to stay here!â
âI meant here like the apartment, not here likeâ-â
âWell I didnât know! And besides, look, they look like theyâre on the ceiling, right? I wanted you to see it.â
The wide gesture up towards her airborne feet really cinches it.
Steph will tell Alex half a year later that this is the exact moment she fell in love with her.
Right now, Steph tries to blink through the tears in eyes, laughter warming cheeks and chest and smile as she kicks the door closed and immediately moves to crawl onto the floor next to Alexâs flopped, strung out form. Watching Alexâs mess of over-emotions slowly morph over into the widest, most genuine smile, as she does.
(Thereâs a thought that stuck through her drunken haze the other night: the reality that Alex has the most beautiful smile Stephâs ever seen).
âLucky for you I took a gift tax,â A small bag materializes from her pocket, a lone soldier gummy bear remaining. Without much thought, she pops it into her mouth and smirks. âWeâll go through this together, Chen.â
Alex looks so grateful that Steph doesnât know what to do with it, so she just reaches down and clasps her hand, instead.
Alex doesnât pull away.
But she does lower her feet to the ground, soâŚprogress.
âAlthough Iâm definitely not going to be a fourth as high as you are, right now.â
âGood.â Alex nods and squeezes her hand andâŚshifts to rest her head on Stephâs shoulder. A breath rattles and catches in her throat before she lets it out through her nose, the air fluttering Alexâs hair. âIt sucks.â
âYeah.â A long beat, â...wanna order a pizza and play Dinoracer 2?â
âTotally.â Alex immediately sits up, âCan we,â Itâs drawled out, raising their joined hands up towards the door in gesture, âGet two pizzas?â
âWhat the hell, why not?â
Alexâs smile is totally worth it.
They spend the night on the floor listening to Plastic Beach, occasionally getting up to eat pizza or play air guitar or dance, together, talking about everything and nothing and trying (and failing) to get Ryan to sneak them a rice cooker from a very closed general store that he has no access to. Alex has re-iterated at least a dozen times (namely, every time Steph asks because rice sounds really good) that she makes the best rice, after all, and Steph wants in.
It's a bummer, but doesn't kill the mood. Next time, they say, like there will be a thousand of them.
They fall asleep on a mattress made of pizza boxes, both of them dedicating a slice to Gabe somewhere in-between.
âDo you like it?â Steph asks two days later, a carefully-wrapped gift now settled on Alexâs counter. Itâs not the best rice maker in existenceâ-actually, itâs twenty bucks and all they sold in Haven Springsâ-but itâs the best she can offer, for the time being.
Alexâs fingers curve around the edge of it so timidly--so carefully--like the fact that itâs likely the smallest one in existence donât matter, at all.
âYou knowâŚâ The sunâs settled fully on her back, now, fingertips nervously tucking hair behind ears as she turns around. Smiles. Slim and quiet and all Alex. âIâveâŚnever had my own.â
âYour own rice cooker?â
âYeah.â
Steph looks around at an apartment that was someone elseâs and is now Alexâs...looks to the bed to the sheets to the small little bag still tucked against it, packed. Like Alex doesnât know how to unpack, at all.
Steph shifts on her feet and leans forward to carefully settle a hand on the other girlâs shoulder, tapping the edge of it far more delicately than a drum.
âWell, now you do. And I fully expect to get some of that rice youâve been bragging about all week.â
âUm, have I really been bragging ?â A psh hidden behind that Alex smile, âItâs not really bragging when itâs fact and thereâs no competition.â
âSee? Iâve got to taste it. Put your rice where your mouth is, Chen. Or...something like that. The phrase was close.â
Alex lets out something that might be close to a happy sigh--barely heard and carefully contained--and Steph isnât so sure why sheâsâŚnervous. Like thereâs this tangling mess of vines in her stomach. Like she really actually wants to be Alex's friend for more than just obligated memory.
âI love it, Steph. Thanks.â
In the quiet afternoon sun filled by nothing but mountain air from a cracked window and the rustling of now-dry denim that's still hanging near it, they both smile.
Yeah, there's something.
They have denim and poptarts. They have pot and rice cookers. They have Plastic Beach. They have the fact that both of them knows how much the quiet bothers the other--they have memories, now.
i didnât get a chance to write you something before i left this time,, and iâm sososo sorry cos i love writing you little letters before i go abroad <3
anyway because of that,, this is your reminder that i love you more than anything!! please remember that until i come home :]
oh!! and if you feel like it,, go see if you can figure out which of my playlists (it should be on my spotify) i made for you a little while ago. my music taste has changed a lot since then (it was probably last year when i made it) but the sentiment is the same :]
anyway,, i donât have a lot of time,, and iâm probably over the atlantic by now,, so iâll just sign off: thank you for everything you do. honest-to-gods,, i wouldnât be here on this planet today without you. i love you sososo much,, csinos,, and youâre going to get ALL the affection once iâm back <3
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I really don't want this to be read since it's nothing really interesting, so it'll be a late-night post. I just really needed to type this out.Â
I've also had really intense feelings over this guy and he was part of the reason I've been pretty down because he was absent for a long time and idk why I like him so much, I've never liked someone so much actually. I'm just embarrassing myself, I need to stop.
Plus I'm crushing on someone else and they're taken wtf is wrong with me. I'm smitten so easily, ughhhhhhhhhhh.
I really want to cry but I can't because the tears won't come to me and I just need to let my feelings out. But instead, I sit at school, really quiet, and make my friends worry.