tran · sience. noun — the state or fact of lasting only for a short time ; a transitory nature.
♯ TRNSIENCE ⸺ a dependent exploration of the haunting caused by a name and a face you can no longer recall, the horrifying ordeal of being known, and whatever is going on with hallmark movie protagonists. penned by aura.
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"Ohhhhh, I see, the reason you keep turning me down is because you want to, like, fuck your motorcycle."
Amongst other reasons. Merritt knows that Shane has bigger fish to fry than his housemate and doesn't take any offense to it; her born-again-virgin status isn't exactly a beacon for men, and beyond that, they've already slipped into a comfortable roommate situation that Merritt's not keen on disrupting. At least before they finish this season, anyway.
Like yeah, she'd make out with Shane if given the opportunity, but it's also like, who wouldn't?
Merritt cocks her head at the lack of enthusiasm: concerned, not confused. She reaches out and places a gentle, brief touch on Shane's shoulder. "She's got life in her still. I can like, feel it. I can feel the pulse. She just needs time."
her joke — overlaid over a sentiment that he knows she really, really means — makes him split into a big grin, head ducking and twisting away to shake in amused exasperation over the popcorn bowl. ❝ bossy and shameless, ❞ he mutters, mostly to himself really.
it's not that he hasn't thought about it. it's hard to spend several nights alone with someone and not think about it at least once, particularly when said someone seems to enjoy sleeping in as little clothes as possible, as some mutually timed attempts to grab a midnight snack have shown him.
sometimes, on nights not too unlike tonight where his day has been bad and she's feeling especially bossy or nosy or flirty or whatever else that twists up his insides with both frustration and fondness, he wonders if he shouldn't just do it. get it over with. fuck her into the couch and break whatever spell she's in so she'll stop trying to involve him in her life so much. make it easy, he tells himself. it'd be a mercy in more ways than one.
then he reminds himself he's not that into white girls and that usually resolves it, ignoring that that hasn't really stopped him before. it's an easier excuse than trying to tackle the real stuff : that he's already eaten where he's shit enough already without adding pity-fucking merritt to the list. at least he won't try to pretend like he's above that. he half suspects she'd get mad at him if he tried. sometimes he likes to joke she's a bad feminist.
at the press of her hand on his shoulder, he lifts his gaze back to meet hers, pinching slightly. there's a beat of silence as he works through that aforementioned cycle again before he clears his throat, forces out a chuckle he hopes comes out less strangled than it feels. ❝ very poetic. ❞ then, feeling like the sincerity of it all might actually suffocate him, he leans forward to grab the cosmos from the table, breaking the contact between her hand and his shoulder and knocking a few pieces of popcorn out of the bowl. he holds one out to her. ❝ you should start saying stuff like that when you do your readings. makes you sound buddha-esque, ❞ he continues.
it was a level of cheesiness that was incomprehensible to vee, overshooting past the idyllic and straight to the absurd. maybe it was the way he was raised— not in absence of love, harvey felt he was loved every day of his childhood, but without adequate ways to express it. sydney didn't have the resources, he didn't have the time, he didn't have the thought. and besides, the big displays were never for their family, really. they were for others to ooh at, to say how nice.
he's about to say as much when shane poses the question "me?" what would that even look like? it's not just that he can't fathom the atomic dream before them, but also that he simply didn't think it possible logistically. too many financial, social, political barriers- and that wasn't even counting the fact that harvey was simply. fucking unmarriable. woe is him, right? not to mention, hilarious question to ask your local drug dealer.
"nah. adoption and shit's expensive. kids are more expensive." unless, of course, you hit the jackpot and were born into a family like the ostroskys "what about you? you could get one of those fancy mobile home things? but trailer parks are nooot as affordable as they used to be." see? too much to think about.
seeing the question catch harvey off guard, like he's never even considered it before, shane's lips press together in a fleeting look that's not too far off from disappointment. he can't say he's surprised at this point, it's par for the course for someone in colossal to express a laissez-faire attitude towards their own life. to accept and maintain that they will always be who they have always been — an angel, an athlete, a burnout. it's horrifying to shane how they never seem to want anything more or at least different for themselves, especially when so many seem unhappy with the lot they've been given since their school days. if nothing else, it shouldn't take him being here and asking these questions for them to finally think about what they want in life.
meanwhile, shane has thought about it extensively. from daydreaming during lessons with his parents to the antsiness that grows with each passing month spent in this one town, the life he lives on the road isn't one he's simply accepted, but one he's chosen. one he is sure he will continue to choose the moment he's able to. so, when vee turns the question around on him, shane doesn't have to think about it. the answer is instinctive. ❝ nah. i prefer traveling light. way too easy to get bogged down or lose what matters otherwise. ❞ physically and emotionally.
❝ is money your only reason ? ❞ shane pushes, quick to shift the spotlight of the conversation back and off of himself. ❝ i didn't take you for the overly practical type. no offense. ❞
setting : velvet moon, saturday afternoon
status : open to all
rose quartz — $3 $2.70.
opens the heart to share and receive love more easily.
reading the tag on the box of milky pink crystals, shane lets out an involuntary snort, brows shooting up toward his hairline as he leans back from the shelf. ❝ and how does that work ? ❞ the words are muttered entirely to himself, but they do come out loud enough that when he notices the person standing nearby he feels the need to add, ❝ sorry, talking to myself. but it's hard not to wonder, right ? ❞
setting : jukebox, 6pm february 26th.
status : closed for @laughtrackfm
❝ shit, d, i don't know any of these songs ! ❞ though it's well before jukebox's normal peak time, the festival and promise of discounted drinks right before a sports game has brought in enough early buzz that shane has to yell to be heard over the noise of the bar. and that is what it is — noise, because the current singer's best attempts at hitting noa sweet's high notes are starting to make his ears ring.
spinning the list of 2nd heaven songs around, shane slides it toward dario before folding his arms onto the table to lean against it. ❝ you sure we can't just run the usual and still get those free shots ? i'll let you be travolta this time. ❞
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🫀 : shane stewart @trnsience
📍 : eden park
🕰️ : saturday, 11:20am
vee is here solely for the free ice skating. didn't check to see if anyone he knew was even going to be in attendance, geared up bright and early to ice skate for free all morning. there were plenty of community events he'd attend and spend the entire time wanting to blow his head off, so he was thankful whenever there was recreation offered. especially since it was inappropriate to be stoned around lame elders and lame children, and was what some people would call too early for drug use. the activity gave his constantly racing mind an outlet. he could be alert, but not highly strung.
when he spots shane at the edge of the pond, vee doesn't immediately notice his interest is on someone else entirely. not until he makes his fast approach, his stop punctuated with a thin spray of ice "hey!" harvey cringes at just how loud his voice ended up being. cheeks heating, he can't quite look at shane right away after that, instead turning his head in the direction he had just been looking.
the ostrosky's were a fine enough family. sort of perfect, nuclear. harvey's only real experience with them is whenever the man of the house goes out for drinks to celebrate a promotion or a bonus. he doesn't have an opinion. they look happy, each holding one of their six year old's hands and guiding her slowly across the frozen surface of the pond. a frown pulls at vee, briefly, and he remembers to regulate his tone before he speaks this time "think they're looking to adopt?"
shane's been watching the ostrosky's for a while now. ever since the little girl took a spill on the ice and her parents rushed over in their matching sweaters to help her. the whole time, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable moment where the foundational cracks in something otherwise so picture perfect made themselves known. surely, any moment now, the little girl would start crying and the father would demand she stop to not embarrass them. or the mother would start lecturing her on her form, revealing high expectations and her own failed life goals. a sideways glare would reveal a failing marriage, one parent leaving would show a lack of interest, something somewhere would prove that not everything was as it seemed.
but no moment comes. for all he's able to see, the family really is as solid and content as they appear on the surface. boringly so, in fact. still, he can't seem to pull his focus away. even as harvey expertly slides up to him, he's too busy trying and failing to rationalize how people so stagnant could be so genuinely happy to give that the double take it deserves. he doesn't even flinch at vee's near-yelling.
❝ hm ? ❞ still a bit out of it, he hums at vee in confusion before following his line of sight. when he puts two and two together, it's his turn for his cheeks to warm. ❝ oh. those types ? definitely. complete with big family photoshoots and matching christmas sweaters. ❞ he expects to instinctively shudder at the thought, but it doesn't happen. he clears his throat, looking back at vee again. ❝ think you're going to have a family like that someday ? ❞
Merritt grins to herself alone on the couch. The best thing about Shane's slow descent into enjoyment of the show is knowing exactly what comes next. Episode six was a doozy for sure, but episode seven? Oh, Shane's going to to scream.
A dirty rag in her face interrupts the internal moment of joy and she scoffs, swipes at the air to shoo away the tease of motor oil. It would take a lot more than this weak threat to get her angry; growing up with an idiot brother has given her both patience and claws in equal measure.
"Oh my god, wow, that's a new one. Can you grab me a notebook so I can write that down? Don't want to forget the first time anyone's ever called me bossy." Her tone is flat and mocking, but when Shane rounds the couch she still looks plenty lively. Bossy hasn't been a negative thing for her in years; like, sorry she knows what she wants, you know? "Seems to me you kind of like bossy considering you're listening."
There's still a few recorded advertisements before the show starts so Merritt doesn't feel bad about talking over the show she's forced Shane into watching with her. "Ugh, you smell like the garage. Did you get any closer to fixing that thing?"
there's a lot about shane's current situation that isn't ideal. however, he can't say staying with the stones is included in that. maybe he shouldn't be surprised given the whole family has made a name for themselves as local entertainers, but he still finds himself caught off guard by how easy it is to laugh at merritt's rebuttal and let his worries fade away the moment he falls onto the couch beside her. it's like entering a whole different world. one where his biggest concern isn't how he's going to replace a piston ring nobody seems to carry anymore, but how he plans on besting monty during the next family game night, and if david—a man he's never met before—is about to get kicked off a tv show he didn't even know existed before a few weeks ago.
balling up and tossing the rag into a nearby hamper, he yoinks the bowl of popcorn out of merritt's lap and onto his own. ❝ if by 'that thing' you mean the greatest, most beautiful bike in the world, then, yeah, a bit. ❞ despite the initial, exaggerated defensiveness, his response comes out half-hearted, eyes glued to the commercials rather than meeting hers.
the truth is that, at best, he's made no progress, and more realistically things have only gotten worse since he started. he buries that reality deep down though. hides it under internal reassurances that the bike does at least kind of turn on when he turns the ignition. ignoring that it also sounds like the grinding, scraping gates of hell are opening when he does so, that has to count for something.
it's that frankly delusional insistence that has him tacking on : ❝ eventually you're going to have to find a new victim. ❞
“no.” by rights, andie shouldn’t be at work at all today, with the bags under their eyes as evident as the wrinkles on their clothes. there had been no time to do laundry after getting home from tour in the small hours of the morning. they were gracious enough to open, but no one in their right mind could expect them to work. “no,” they repeated again, looking up from their book with some alarm as the other person began to approach. “no coffee today. go home.” the pounding in their head was not compatible with the noise of the espresso machine.
❝ not here for coffee, ❞ he assures them, hands raised in mock surrender. coming to a stop on the other side of fast break's counter, he pulls his jacket aside to reveal the employee name tag pinned to the front of his shirt. ❝ shane. stewart. ❞ he clarifies. ❝ jodi's nephew. we met last month. ❞ an uneventful moment for sure, both of them likely preoccupied with thoughts of far more important things ( a broken bike, an impending tour ) than a small town coffee shop's employees and its newest nepo hire. he wouldn't blame them for not remembering. if it weren't for andie being his direct boss and the whole town talking about them nonstop for the last month, he probably wouldn't remember them either.
❝ and i, uh, ❞ he clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. the counter between them suddenly doesn't feel like enough of a barrier for what he's about to say. ❝ i'm the one who called earlier to say i'd be a couple hours late. ❞
her voice trails off at the sound of her name, her eyes are wide and concerned, but they soften slightly as he insists he was only kidding. “still,” she says quietly. mila isn’t fond of being the center of attention for something good, she certainly wouldn’t have done anything to take the spotlight for shane, had she known it was his night.
it really does seem like he’s fine, though. his posture’s relaxed, and his expression is amused. maybe the fact that everyone’s downstairs preparing for a talent show in his honor is enough to make him feel special. or maybe, the talent show is a way to make it about everyone else, and take the attention off of him. she wonders if shane even likes his birthday; mila’s never liked hers, and planning an event to distract from herself sounds exactly like something she’d do. but then again, shane’s nothing like her; he’s probably not thinking about any of this.
her cheeks flushing is her only response to the compliment, and she’s pleased it’s one she can blame on the cold. instead, she chooses to focus on the rest of his comment. “it wasn’t lousy,” mila replies, automatically, instinctively, but she can’t look at shane when she says it. as if a woman in a happy marriage would’ve jumped on him in her husband’s childhood home the way mila had.
though shane is just about the last person mila needs to save face with, she can’t quite shake the protective urge she feels towards her relationship with milo. maybe she’s just not ready to admit that her years with him had been a waste, but she wasn’t miserable with milo. she had loved him — she still loves him — and maybe she’s not quite as in love with him as she once was, she knows she would have been perfectly content had they stayed together. that could hardly count as a lousy marriage, right?
still, for whatever reason, her staunch rejection of shane’s rather innocent comment gnaws at her. she believes what she said, but it reminds her that she’s keeping something else from him. “i stole this from you,” she blurts out, pulling the cigarette from the waistband of her skirt. “frankie might’ve told you, i don’t know. but i’m sorry.” holding it out to him, she presses her lips together, still unable to look him in the eye.
her instinctive response nets her a low hum. the kind that says he doesn't fully believe her but also doesn't plan on pushing it. at least not right this second. she's already got enough on her plate navigating things tonight; she doesn't need him adding to it by pointing out for the dozenth time that content and happy don't exactly mean the same thing. that, if nothing else, it shouldn't have taken an outsider to see the way she shrunk beside milo at every party, smile momentarily strained as he handed her another vodka soda, their parting kisses looking almost mindless, trained, robotic, not a single spark to be seen. if that was truly what passed as a non-lousy marriage, shane's never been happier in his decision to not settle down.
besides, even if he wanted to say something, she doesn't give him the chance. staring at the cigarette in her hand, shane finds himself caught off guard for the second time that night. ❝ damn, when did you manage that ? ❞ once again, he can't help but laugh. even though she didn't directly ask, it's something—proof, maybe. while he doesn't need reassurance that what he and mila did was right by any metric—of course it wasn't—like a scientist seeing his hypothesis proven correct, it's good to see he hadn't been wrong about her. if she expects him to be disappointed by that, she's sorely mistaken.
taking a step forward, he closes the gap between them and resists the urge to lift her lowered head with a knuckle. ❝ here, ❞ he says, reaching back to fish a lighter from the back pocket of his jeans. he's close enough now for the small flame of it to light up the both of them as he brings it to the end of her stolen prize. once it's caught, he nods at her, a go ahead. ❝ keep it, you earned it. ❞
i know you’re “straight” but if you WEREN’T… rank the men of colossal on bangability!
❝ yeah, i am straight, but i also have eyes. colossal has some good looking dudes. from 'most likely to look twice if i saw him at an orgy' to 'would still say no even if winona rider was involved in the threesome,' my personal ranking goes : easy, dario, mayor pandya, sid ( the hotshot ), ecto, jamir, booker, victor, cj, monty, jules ( the snob ), milo, shep, petey, and finally tricky. ❞
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rate mila's sexual prowess and ability on a scale from 1-10 with reasonings
❝ i mean, insane question, but okay. i guess the people in this town never grew out of locker room talk, huh ? if we're just talking prowess and ability, it's hard to say given i made it kinda difficult for her to show any of that off. i wanted her focus to be on enjoying herself, figuring out what she actually liked, et-cetera et-cetera. she didn't need to worry about her performance or whatever on top of that, especially when just getting her to give feedback was hard enough. but that's not the juicy answer you're looking for, so given that she was with the same guy for, what ? ten years ? my honest guess is her 'prowess' is a five at best, but with room to grow once she figures out how to be an actual person instead of a walking guilty conscious. that said, the head was seven out of ten. ❞
closed starter for shane stewart ( @trnsience )
-> the stone house
"Shane? Hurry up, I'm putting the tape in!"
Merritt's knelt down on the floor, her bare knees digging into the carpet as she slots the VHS into the player. Learning how to record TV shows is the best thing she's ever done for herself; she'll never, ever have to scour the schedule, desperate for a rerun of her beloved guilty pleasure: The Real World.
It also means she has the blessing of being able to spread the good word to poor unsuspecting housemates like Shane. A win-win, she thinks.
Merritt pushes off the ground so she can plop herself onto the pile of blankets she'll be nesting in on the couch; a few pieces of popcorn jostle out of their bowl, so she quickly disposes of them with a satisfying crunch. While not exactly kosher to do, she'd made a couple of cosmos at work and smuggled them out in to-go cups. Now they sit in a pair of wine glasses on the coffee table, pink and glinting in the low light.
"I'm already sitting down," she yells. "And I'm not getting back up to rewind if you miss anything!"
between having to wait for a specific part to arrive at the mechanic's and being trapped at the strip for a full day and a half, shane hasn't been able to work on his bike for nearly a week. as such, the moment the plows pulled away from the front of limerick's, he was gone, taking the first ride he could get back to red fern lane and locking himself away in the stones' garage. birthday be damned.
with work cancelled the following day, that same garage is where merritt's voice reaches him now. just as it has all the other times she's called out in the last ten minutes to remind him of what has unintentionally become a weekly tradition. muttering a curse beneath his breath, shane leans back, swiping a grease stained thumb over his brow as he takes in the minimal amount of progress he's been able to make on his still-mangled bike. he's half a mind to sneak in just one more adjustment, but merritt shouts again, eliciting another curse beneath his breath. ❝ alright, alright, i'm coming ! ❞ he relents. ❝ but i want a play by play if david and tami start fighting again ! ❞
actually meaning his words this time, shane pushes up from his kneeling position beside the bike and makes for the open door heading into the house proper. on the way, he grabs a fresh rag from the laundry, staining the cool grey color of it dark with each press of his hands. passing behind merritt as he enters the living room, he waves the filthy thing dangerously close in front of her face, blocking her view of the tv and teasing all the while, ❝ you're kinda bossy, you know that ? ❞
closed starter for @trnsience , sometime after midnight .
Milo's been pretending all night like this entire night isn't weird. He wanted a little escapism from it all; his impending divorce, his brand new roomie thanks to his sister — not that he doesn't like Shane or anything, it just meant another body in the Stone household.
"Hey, happy birthday man," he greeted, coming up from behind him and wrapping an arm around his neck like the two of them had known each other forever. "Your first birthday in Colossal, what a hoot!" If it isn't evident already, Milo was plenty of drinks in and was certainly feeling the buzz of it all. Words like snowed in and Mila didn't even phase him.
What word did interest him was cake.
The downside? Milo couldn't sing, or dance, or do a thousand push ups, or read aloud at an insane speed. "Think I could set a wager instead for that cake?" Milo's birthday was still months away and what were the odds he would stumble on a cake between now and then?
if shane were a better person, he'd probably be more nervous at the prospect of being around milo after everything that had happened with mila. he's not that great of a person though ; can't even say this is his first time in a situation like this. so, with only the briefest of hesitation as he clocks that mila must not have told her soon-to-be ex-husband the whole story, he meets milo's undeserved, overly familiar smile with a close-lipped one of his own.
❝ first and last. ❞ surely if he says it enough times it'll turn out to be true. no offense to the people of colossal—they've all been great—but one birthday spent here is bad enough. the thought of multiple makes him feel like he might break out in hives. ❝ gotta give you back your space after all. ❞
what milo says next has shane raising a brow, curiosity piqued. in truth, he was all too happy to give the cake away to the first person that wanted it. the whole competition aspect was really just a distraction ( and if he happens to be entertained by watching a bunch of drunk strangers try to impress him, so what ? it's already been established he's not that great of a person ).
there's no fun in telling milo any of this, so instead he plays along, swinging a hand up to grip the back of milo's shoulder and pull him into a more conspiratorial huddle. ❝ hmm, kinda sounds like your talent might just be gambling. i don't see why that wouldn't be a valid entry, assuming you can rise to the challenge that is. you have something in mind ? i'll warn you, i already drank easy under the table earlier. ❞ meaning : the wager's gotta be something good.
how long has your muse been working at their current job ?
a little over a month now ! as it became increasingly more clear that the situation with his bike was more dire than he thought, shane knew he needed to get a job to not only to fund repairs, but also to not be a complete burden on the stone family's hospitality. thankfully, his aunt is a goddamn saint and had no problem slotting him into the schedule at fast breaks. the rest is history.
how does your muse commute ?
i imagine that red fern lane, or at least the specific neighborhood the stones reside, is a little too out of the way for everyday walking, so while shane's bike is out of commission he unfortunately has to rely on the hospitality of others to get him to and from work. that said, if the weather is fair, he'll sometimes opt to walk anyway, if just to spare himself from merritt raking him over the coals for asking for a ride. that has tragically stopped being an option since it started snowing.
what’s in your muse’s work locker? how about the break room fridge ?
locker : nothing, really. he'll hang up his jacket when he arrives since they insisted on giving him a locker, but he really doesn't see the point in decorating it or making himself overly comfortable when he'll hopefully ( god willing ) be leaving soon.
fridge : shane enjoys cooking, so i think he usually has a packed lunch of leftovers to chow down on when he gets hungry. if not, he'll tag along with dario and easy for some gordito's.
which shift does your muse prefer ?
afternoon. it's not as busy as morning and not as dead as evening. he does like it when there are people there, especially since it gives him and parker people to make up stories about, but he wants it to be a good number so that nobody is bugging him specifically. he also enjoys the pockets of quiet that allow him to snake a book from paperweight and read it over a shift or two.
would you consider your muse to be a good employee ?
in some ways yes and in some ways no. he's got a decent memory for which drink order goes to which regular, and an observant eye for giving people a good recommendation if they're unsure what to get. he also has no problem carrying around the heavy bean bags around and getting things down from the tall shelves in the back room. unfortunately, he's not really passionate about the job, merely seeing it as a means to an end. this can make him quite careless when it comes to actually making the drinks themselves and then when dealing with subsequent customer complaints. has and will spit in someone's drink for demanding he remake it to exacting specifications. also the second it hits his clock out time he is GONE. someone on the morning shift absolutely hates his ass because whenever he works closing, he almost always leaves work for the opening crew to deal with.
how is their relationship to their authority ? do they get along with their manager ? how about the owner ?
shane has an absolutely abysmal relationship with authority in general. he strongly believes in his own autonomy and doesn't like anybody encroaching on that. customer service is honestly kind of a nightmare job for him, but what can you do. i feel like he and the spitfire share this in common, but that it can also be a point of contention between them whenever they try to, well, manage him and he then sets them off by being willfully difficult about it. honestly, the more i talk about how he is at work the more i feel like he's just begging to get fired. alas, the nepotism 😔
“easy?” mila says into the dead air of the empty apartment. “victor?” still nothing. pressing her lips together, mila optimistically waits another second. when it passes in silence, she’s forced to accept that she’ll have to head back down to the basement. her plans for a diversion that grants her a few minutes away from everyone foiled. though just as she turns to leave, she feels an unusually cold breeze blow through the apartment. with the amount of smokers amongst the staff of the strip, it’s not unreasonable to think that one of them opened a window. and with the amount of alcohol consumed this evening, it’s not unreasonable to think one of them forgot to close it.
she knows she shouldn’t just hang out in their apartment without either of them around; that’s creepy, and an invasion of privacy, but how could she leave knowing one of their windows is open? after a moment of consideration, mila sets her drink down on the coffee table, and wanders off to check the windows. as soon as she finds out what was left open, she’ll go back downstairs. she’s just looking out for their electric bill.
finding the offending window isn’t nearly the task she’d hoped it would be, and before long she’s stood in front of the window to the fire escape, the crack at the bottom leaking cold air. briefly, mila wonders if she could slip out and walk home. she knows its ridiculous the second the thought crosses her mind, but she’s all alone in the apartment. she can indulge herself. she reaches for the window to shove it open. her cheeks flush as she has to struggle with it a lot more than she’d anticipated — karma for her indulgence? — and she stumbles backwards in surprise when another hand comes out of nowhere to assist her.
mila climbs out the window, and shoots shane a small smile in gratitude. despite the urge to pester him, she doesn’t say anything, allowing him the time he alone had likely sought out. instead, she takes in the storm. the white out conditions and inches that have already accumulated on the fire escape show her just how much of a pipe dream escaping truly was. even if it wasn’t snowing, it’s way too cold; her tights might be lined, but she’s definitely not dressed for that. she sighs, but it comes out as a shiver.
she’s about to wish shane a happy birthday and head back inside when he speaks. her brows are furrowed when she turns to face him completely. “i’m sorry,” she says it like a reflex but she does mean it. “i didn’t mean for it to happen like this.” or at all, really. she just thought she’d have a few hours of people taking in the news and then she’d be able to escape home. she never wanted it to be an announcement. “i definitely wouldn’t have said anything to anyone if i knew it was your birthday. which, happy birthday, by the way.” her eyes catch on his cigarette, lingering there for a moment before she forces herself to look at shane again. “i doubt this is how you wanted to spend it, but at least you’ve got cake, right? and alcohol. in a way, it’s kind of like they rented the bar out for you.”
amidst her rambling apology, shane watches mila with growing, wry amusement. only when it seems like she might run out of air does he finally interject. ❝ mila, ❞ her name comes out in a breathy laugh, visible in the chilly air between them. ❝ i'm fucking with you. it's fine. ❞
really. it’s not like he wanted anyone to know. the fact that jodi remembered and planned something for it is already far more than he would've liked. were it up to him, he’d spend the day the same as he always does : alone, no fanfare, doing whatever suits his fancy in the moment. sometimes that meant a night out on the town, while others it meant staying in with a lightly smashed slice of grocery store cheesecake and reruns of buffy on the hotel room tv. anything more felt overly frivolous—unnecessary, too reminiscent of birthdays spent with his parents where everything was planned and picked out for him. where all he had to do was smile and hide how much he hated it all.
he shudders at the memory, covering it as merely a reaction to the cold. as much as he’d like to say it’s just the day itself that has him thinking about his old life, it’s not the first time he’s done so in mila’s presence. he’s not sure what it is about her. on the surface at least, they couldn’t be any more different. yet even now he finds himself drawing comparisons, noting the way her polite smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes that now drift towards the horizon, his mouth, the cigarette he pulls away from it. he hopes she’ll ask for any of these things now that she’s free to want as she pleases. allows himself to imagine for just a moment her plucking the cigarette from his fingers with one hand and drawing him in with the other. an improbable scenario maybe, but not impossible. after all, it wasn’t shane that made the first move in the stone family’s garage two weeks ago.
( it dawns on him then that this is the first they’ve really spoken since. )
though it probably shouldn’t be a surprise, he still finds himself disappointed and even a bit confused when mila forces her eyes back to his and keeps her obvious desires to herself. maybe she still just needs that extra push. ❝ besides, i can think of worse birthday presents than watching a beautiful woman get out of a lousy marriage, ❞ he says.
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setting : vic & easy's apartment, 12:50am
status : closed for victor ( @scrtissues )
following his cigarette break out on the fire escape, shane finds he’s still not one hundred percent ready to go back down to the party. god forbid the others have gotten it into their drunken and stoned heads to try and surprise him with anything now that they know he’s one year closer to thirty. they haven’t, of course, but the possibility alone is enough to keep him upstairs for now.
he considers hiding away in easy’s room until he’s ready. compared to everywhere else in the apartment, it’s the only room he’s at least somewhat familiar with, hours spent huddled around easy’s computer to watch one of his projects—his “babies” as he called them. save for a kitchen pit stop along the way for snacks and drinks or a quick piss break in the bathroom, he really hasn’t seen much else of the apartment. so, instead, he loiters around the living room, combing through shelves of movies, books, records, and other miscellaneous knick-knacks. he’s not sure what he’s looking for exactly : a distraction, a story, something misplaced or otherwise interesting. all he knows is that he finds it right as a noise behind him draws his attention.
❝ oh, hey, ❞ he greets victor, tone utterly casual despite being caught red-handed in an apartment he didn’t have permission to be in and going through belongings that were not his. he doesn't even bother to hide the item he's holding.
if ana had a choice in the matter, she definitely wouldn’t have decided on this specific group of people to be snowed in with. surprisingly, none of it mattered tonight. a major problem she’s been dealing with for years has resolved itself. mila may be newly single, but ana felt like the one who's free. and because of this, she’s in a wonderful mood. it would take a whole lot worse to bring her down. the music sounds louder, the drinks taste sweeter— january 26th might as well be her birthday.
“what? this?” she shouts over the song, smiling from ear to ear. getting paid is her forte, each and every day, ana sings along to the words, taking a step closer to shane on each beat. only pausing for a moment to point towards him and add, true player way. eventually she’s at his side, taking a good look at him and then the rest of the so-called partygoers, “i don’t know what their problem is. this is the best divorce party i have ever been to. i could not have asked for a better couple to break up.” ana reaches for a pretzel, pops it in her mouth, chews twice and finally realizes how she must be appearing to a newcomer. “oops, my bad— what i meant was— i’m sad, so so sad. isn’t it obvious?”
more than once, ana’s performance threatens to make shane’s small smile spread wider, her own big grin growing more and more infectious as he fights against the warm spread of alcohol in his system to maintain a softer, more distant, and less obviously charmed expression. luckily, he doesn’t completely break until her eyes are off him and turned to the rest of the party. unluckily, that won’t stop her from hearing the very audible snort her words pull out of him.
❝ no, please, by all means, ❞ he chuckles through the words. ❝ who else is going to have a better view on that relationship than the best friend ? ❞ not that he needs ana’s insight to come to the conclusion that milo and mila weren’t a great pair. a fine pair, sure, but not the idyllic high school sweethearts others ( except ana, clearly ) seemed to see them as. at the end of the day, colossal wasn’t any different from the other “tightknit” communities he’d seen over the years, it’s members all too invested in the status quo and expectations placed on each other—work here, live there, marry them—to see the actual feelings of those around them. it’s why he ultimately felt the need to step in. if he hadn't, who else would ?
❝ so what were you ? ❞ he asks rather than tell ana any of his current thoughts. ❝ bridesmaid ? maid of honor ? the person shouting ‘i object’ ? ❞