RUBY. ( @rubyredsongbird )
“yeah, but people don’t just DO that.” her feet kicked up on the coffee table in front of her, she rolled her eyes over towards hanna, drinking her miniature bottle of wine straight from the bottle from a straw. ( it gave one a better buzz that way, something she’d heard only once, but a habit’s been kept since. )
“they don’t just … write stuff about themselves because unless you’ve made it —- no one cares.” it was harsh, but that was her reality, what she’d accepted it to be. she’d dropped out of school, taken off in hopes of making it, and what did she have to show?? nothing. she’d accepted it, but some nights it got to her, those nights when she found herself flipping through the channels, ultimately landing on some old grace kelly movie, settled in to wonder what she was doing w r o n g – venting her frustrations whether her roommate was listening or not.
“sweet of you to call me interesting though.”
❛ hauld on there, lad, ❜ moments ago, hanna had been curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, attention entirely focused on the carton of chinese take-out she was rummaging through, as if she were an archaeologist on the dig of her life – now, the carton was resting upon the coffee table, threatening to tip over with how carelessly hanna had slammed it down, and the irishwoman was sitting upright, looking very seriously at her roommate. ❛ that’s a pile’a shit, an’ we both know it. people write about themselves all the time before they’re famous. who was that lad, fuck… ❜ hanna paused for a moment, looking to the side, clicking her fingers uselessly as she struggled to recall the name, ❛ you know ‘em, we listen to ‘em on a fuckin’… did that thing, the piano song… BILLY JOEL ! ❜ hanna shot a triumphant, and more than a little smug, look at the other woman. ❛ billy fuckin’ joel, you think he wrote that piano man shite when he was famous ? nah, mate, he wrote that before he fuckin’ made it, writing that song helped him make it. wouldn’t have made it if he hadn’t written it, an’ he’s no’ the only fuckin’ one, is he ? away an’ fuck with that shite, rubes, honestly, ❜
despite the expletives, there was no annoyance or malice in hanna’s voice – she was aiming for an encouraging tone, though she wasn’t quite sure if she was achieving it. though their arrangement had once been one borne of necessity, she now considered ruby a friend, and she hated to see her on nights like this, pressed down by the weight of the world, of past regrets. ❛ you write a song about y’rself tonight, or tomorrow, or when the fuck ever, an’ i’m tellin’ ye, one day, people’ll be listenin’ to it twenty-four-fuckin’-seven. an’ sides, this is a negativity free zone, a’ight? this – ❜ and here she paused to make a wide, sweeping motion with her arm, gesturing to the room, the apartment, they sat in, ❛ – is a fuck-your-bad-thoughts space. unless you’re talkin’ bout how the lads next door are a bunch of absolute wankboxes, i don’t wanna hear it. you’ll get there in the end, babe. promise. ❜
that had been a good pep talk, hadn’t it ? she was proud of herself for that one. settling back into a comfortable position on the couch, an unsettling pop-crack sound could be heard, and hanna’s arm fell to the side of the couch, just a little farther than should have been possible – just far enough that she could grab her beer bottle without having to move again. another cracking sound, and hanna’s arm was safely back in its socket, her grimace of pain hidden as she took a quick swig. stupid ? yes. painful ? yes. worth it ? probably not, but oh well.
❛ of course it was sweet of us to call y’interesting. i’m a sweet person. i can do sweet. i just ... prefer not to, ❜ she offered ruby a bright smile, cradling her beer bottle close to her chest, pulling her legs in to give the other girl room – she had been close to kicking her legs up into ruby’s lap and just sprawling out. ❛ ‘s’the truth though, isn’t it ? you’re a freak like the rest of us, ❜ she offered brightly. ❛ you’re interestin’ by default, practically. bet you could squeeze a song or two outta your life before here, though, c’mon. y’ever try ? or were y’too caught up in this, gotta be famous first shite ? ❜
