#wildsign

“ you really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you? ” says @wildsign again, and again, and again. in a loop that seems as though will last an eternity. the weight of it feels like it's going to crush every bone in his body to dust, he'll be no more, and nobody's going to come and collect what he owes them for the love he's apparently sucking out of all these people who don't know him, not really. but then it stops, and the spiral he thought had been going on for ages only lasted about five seconds, and mikey's eyes are awaiting for an acknowledgement at the very least. he's being ungrateful.

When Charlotte opened her mouth to pop the crumbs of a fortune cookie in, it appeared as though the entire lower half of her face had come unhinged; gaping with shadow, unable to tell what was flesh, paint, or teeth. Beside her, a smiling beckoning cat continued to wave, cheerfully unawares of its missing left ear. This, Charlotte righted so that it sat on its feet before she unfurled her fortune. DON'T BE AFRAID OF FEAR, it read. Slowly, the agent's brows knit together as she thought the message through. The confusion was still blatant on her face as she turned to look at Amy. What she was saying also made no sense. But it, at least, made Charlotte smile.

THIS WAS A ONE-TIME GIG. WHEN WE'RE DONE, WE'RE DONE. / @wildsign

Her laughter, bright and musical, came a moment later. " Yeah? Good one, 'Diles. " Pocketing the fortune, Charlotte shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth, ignoring the way the sharp edges of it reopened the wound inside her cheek, swallowing the metallic tang of her blood along with the sweet treat. " Look, just 'cause it's a good idea for us to split up right now, doesn't mean it's forever, " she said, feigning a look of sentimental melodrama. How much of this Amy could actually see beneath the paint, Charlotte couldn't be sure and she wasn't truly worry about it. Amy could choose how seriously she took the agent's words. " Besides, don'tcha think you'd miss me? " Charlotte flashed a wide grin at Amy, then moved to get her feet back under herself, half - surprised that her legs gave her no trouble for the effort.

for an old man he had plenty time to spare . and so he'd wait . he'd shuffle his feet across neglected bare floor boards , tilt his head till his neck cracks enough that bucky can taste it . he addresses the room ; it's unchanged , still as bare as the last time he'd wandered through her front door save the array of cases he'd tried his best not to dwell on . except there were fewer of them this time , that wasn't particularly a good thing .

tongue pokes between his lips to spur him into a distraction , any distraction that would keep him from asking anything that might lead into a disagreement . that's not why he's here , best not give her a reason to keep her distance any longer than she already had .

in richie, she saw all the shapings of a brother lost. sometimes, it was like michael was still here, unmannerly and impertinent, dismissive of all the things that were beginning to change around him — feeling progression as a kind of competition and sensing himself as forgotten. their roughness belonged to decades past, the business' scrapings-by no longer a fun anecdote but a mortifying admission. it was only when those who had set their foot down in the real world entered the beef that one could identify how sordid michael's sandwich shop really was, holding on by a few lucky strokes and a constant siphon of sentimentality. and yet, richie clings to nostalgia like a shirt that holds the deceased's final scent, like it is the only way to keep his spirit alive. [and it is really, michael's ghost haunted every interaction like a dark shadow, permeated every utensil that may hold his final fingerprint.] but she wills richie to see otherwise, that it is not in the bare bones of a restaurant but the impact that he left behind — the lesson, the moral, the drive to bring something better. she offers their life-long friend a tight-lipped smile, full of gentle warmth with just that touch of sympathy that deprived him of any offence to be taken. she'd never say the words aloud until it came to eulogies, but she loved richie like a brother, saw the anguish wrack through him daily better than perhaps others could. except carmy. they both issued richie more chances than was likely fair, but in it dwelled both understanding and compassion. natalie could see their bond deepened beyond what both herself and her sibling could begin to fathom, having been at arms-length from michael for what seemed to be most of their lives. richie saw the demise of a soulmate up close, became acquainted with michael's bad as often as he did the good — watched, unmoving, the meagre undoing of his psyche until that final pop concluded his suspicions. she holds back a sigh, exhibiting the patience that had been learned over years of familial turmoil, and fixes him with the tone that she wishes she'd been brave enough to put onto michael.