Short Story Contemplation

[smileyalways]

Hey, This is just someplace where'll i'll post short stories from prompts and stuff, i've gotten from tumblr and other places. I have a lot of these stored up, and it's mostly going to be a place to archive them for future use amongst other things.

I don't really mind if other people post so, feel free to i guess.

Little Things
from this prompt and Staring my characters Mark and Radiation

***

I didn’t notice at first, but I guess I’ve always been like that. Not noticing just doing and appreciating the little things. Cause, it’s the little things that count, y’know? They’ve always counted.

We’d just be going out-didn’t matter where- and suddenly I’d look down and his hand was there, wrapped in mine, our fingers just…curled around each other.

And it really didn’t matter where. Mark and I would just be shopping downtown, and although the afternoon wouldn’t start out that way, before I’d even realize, our hands would be entwined and I’d look down to Mark and that rare smile of his would be ghosting over his lips and I didn’t try to stop the grin that would slowly spread over my face.

For us, it’s always been the little things. Little things in general. No gushing, overflowing words. Nothing big. Just sideway glances and small smiles that speak more than either of us could probably express anyway.

Entwined hands with tarnishing rings that squeeze every so often, that speak incredible volumes.

Flower shops.

Post offices.

Grocery stores.

Getting the mail from the mailbox.

Just walking downtown, like we are now, getting groceries for the week.

Before my sister and his honorary sister, nervously explaining.

Before the altar, tears in my eyes and Mark practically sobbing.

In the kitchen in the mornings as Mark cooks breakfast, awkwardly with one hand before I go off to make tea and coffee. Still sneaking sideway glances that turn to long gazes and small smiles that turn into grins (that sometimes turn into something more).

We celebrate the little things in little ways. With smiles that mean more and looks that speak louder.

And every time I look down at our hands, together, like that and meet his eye and see the smile that still makes my heart flutter, there’s only a few things I can think of.

His hand in my, with his heart keeping a steady beat with mine.

The feeling of cool metal on my ring finger (still somewhat foreign after all this time).

And the little things that really only matter.

[smileyalways]

That's all we were to them.
Experiments They were just as ready to toss us-all of us-away like garbage as soon as they would an old computer that didn't work anymore.
It didn't matter to them, animal or not.
They'd done worse to us just because we were animals.
Because we were just regular wolves.
Everyday needles and cramped dark spaces that tore at our lungs and filled our very souls with dread.
I guess despite it all, we were the lucky ones. The six of us together.
Myself.
Skylar.
Vincent.
Nightshade.
Cornelius.
and Sophie.
.
.
.
Sophie.
She was never meant for something like that, out of all of us-even Nightshade-she never deserved it the most. She was too, gentle, too soft, too dependent.
But I was there for her.
I calmed her down while she cried and howled with pain.
I gritted my teeth when i felt like screaming out in pain.
I was there for her, and she was there for me, calming down the rage that set tempered within my very body.
She was the light to the raging flame in my heart, but somehow coming through soft and gentle.
.
.
.
Cory was the first to be discovered however.
They had done something to Nightshade, his only sister, the one person who he valued more than his own life.
She had gone blind.
Then, she swore it was them, they had stuck in more needles, had stuck her in the cramped contraption that we all knew too well.
Now, she thinks it was something more, something bestowed.
Something mystical.
I don't remember much about that day, but a gusting wind had overcome, our little piece of personal hells and it may have been the gales or our own minds howling in surprise and something more.
I could feel the now familiar warm tug in my chest at hearing the winds.
Later Cory and Nightshade were removed. For further observation.
Later the four of us left had found out-they both had grown three tails and mysterious markings now coated their bodies.
Skylar and Nightshade now tell us its because they're twins, their genetic codes being too similar.
We all wonder what if it wasn't.
.
.
.
Not so surprisingly (Nightshade says that a lot when we recount these tales) Sophie and i were the next to be discovered.
(I still remember, she had beautiful light brown fur, and a tawny dapples covering her snout)
One dark night, the darkest we could remember, it happened.
She had practically died.
.
.
.
I don't like talking about it.
So im not.
And I won't.
Skye or Vincent can tell you well enough when neither Sophie, or myself are around.
But when they were taking her away, I snapped.
The anger and warmth that lay in my body, became rage. Fury. Flames.
(My own fur turned from steel-y grey to dark red and orange.)
My head exploded in colors of flames and light.
(The horns that grew still puzzle me.)
My body felt like it was on fire.
(This later was confirmed true)
I acted on instinct.
(my tail got longer and has a sharp blade on the end, which i find weird.)
I killed two people in my rage.
Sophie calmed me down.
She was there for me.
( Her fur's an even more beautiful shade of blues and yellows.)
They didn't kill me.
.
.
.
Vincent was next, although i don't know how, but all he mentioned was 'No one likes the snow'.
Noticed the wings though, they were kinda hard to miss even clipped and plucked.
They put in Skylar too, because they figured they better study her too.
That proved to be our saving grace.
She was always the one trying to brighten us up.
Even now, centuries have passed and she still tries to cheer us up when we get down about it.
(I have seen her broken down only three times, while ours is countless)
Giving us weird "Titles"
She was The Traveler. Which fit nicely.
.
.
.
She had developed apportion.
When we first figured out, we were furious, bewildered, confused.
She had for months
Way before Cory's discovery.
In time we came to understand.
She had to figure out where we could escape to.
And she'd found it.
.
.
.
And later we (I) burned the place.
And later we (Vincent) made sure if they didn't burn, they'd freeze
Cory helped. With his gusting winds. Skylar saved others.
Nightshade knew. Sophie cried, but was happy.
.
.
.
The Tempered Flame
The Traveler
The Harsh Wind
The Blind Seer
The Changing Winds
(Who later became The Forlorn Guardian)
The Bashful Light-Bringer
"Mage Titles" She calls them.
.
.
.
We had finally got out. We were ecstatic. We were relieved.
We were finally free.
I don't remembered how long we traveled for.
All of this stuff was pretty foreign to us.
Grass. Dirt. Sunlight. Life.
(Except to Nightshade, but she never minded.)
We learned how to hunt ourselves, and were grateful for what we could get.
Skylar had led us to woods. Deep woods, with towering trees.
And had led us farther than that, with flat plains and scattered clusters of trees. Vincent loved the place, but felt it was too hot.
Then the mountains.
Sophie loved the mountains ( and still does). She could see everything from there. The setting sun. The rising sun. The plains that Vincent loves so fondly.
It was back on the plains when it happened.
.
.
.
Nightshade had been skittish. Because she knew. Blind and ever-all knowing.
She, Cornelius, Sophie, and Skylar fell, writhing on the ground.
Nightshade through pain filled gasps and moans had told us-
She had foreseen this. It would pass in time and it would be for the better.
Vincent and I were skeptical, but it was.
.
.
.
Sophie, with her small useless wings.
Skylar, with her original red and tawny fur and now light and dark brown wings.
Nightshade and Cornelius with the power to have either wings, or their three tails.
The flying process was unusual.
Vincent had to wait until his feathers grew back in.
Cornelius and Nightshade struggled to controlled their interchangeable forms.
(Cory was adamant about having Nightshade not fly.)
Sophie fluttered and glided, and i consoled her.
.
.
.
About anything she was insecure or worried about.
She calmed me. The rage that lays within me would boil and burst randomly, but not at her. Usually at Cory, or Vincent. Occasionally at Skylar with her optimism. A Lot a Nightshade, More at myself.
But never at her.
And in time they mastered flying.
Night-sky finding was to channel her power.
Cory using the winds to guide him.
Vincent spreading snow over the plains.
Skylar teleporting into the air and doing aerial stunts.
Sophie climbing trees taller than what i could see and having to be teleported down.
(she goes on lower trees now to glide).
.
.
.
After hundreds of years (it took us three decades to figure out our age problem)
we finally shaped our homes into our likings.
Skylar and Vincent lived on his frozen tundra to the west.
Nightshade and Cornelius lived comfortably in the forest to to south
And Sophie and I resigned our selves to the mountains to the north.
Each night we would would hear the familiar howl come from the west and answer it back.
(our way of keeping in touch)
And I would feel that familiar tug, like when Cory had been discovered all those years ago, and I knew everyone else had felt it too.
And each morning Sophie would watch the rising sun. Radiating light and energy, and the sun would shine a little brighter.
(My horns and tail blade are practically useless)
.
.
.
And before anybody knew it, our world had changed around us.
This was no longer a world uninhabited-we had set hundred of mutated and experimented animals free-it was a world alive.
It was the world of Mage Wolves.
And it had evolved around us.

***

From This list of Au's.
I chose the Experiment one and It stars my Characters Roy, Vincent, Nightshade, Cornelius, Sophie and Skylar.
owo

[smileyalways]

This is the first of a series-esque thing i'm doing and from this prompt (which i submitted!! :D) and i'll be doing alternating viewpionts along with doing different versions in third person pov.

***

Quiet

You first see her in the lunch room.
She's alone and reading, eyes glancing up every so often as if looking for something and she isn't eating.
You briefly wonder why. Is she allergic to something? or Did she already eat today, you contemplate.
Its only a parting glance with an afterthought, though, and soon your on your way again.

Its your first day here in this highschool. New town. New state.
New people. But that's what concerned you the least.
The second semester of Freshman year and you didn't know anybody and no body seemed to want to know you. But that was alright; you didn't really want to know anybody either. You decided that friends really weren't your thing and you were going to focus on only two things while you were here: School and yourself.
You maintained straight A's and rewarded yourself with lavender baths. When you got 100% on a test you treated yourself with shopping and when you didn't you ate ice cream and sat down with your favorite movie because you knew you tried your best anyway.
You even signed up as a tutor afterschool just to do something in your spare time.
That's when you see her again.

In the library, a few tables away and reading again.
But this time something's different.
Her shoulders are hunched and her eyes flicker up as if expecting something. When she goes to turn a page you notice her hand trembles slightly. Before you can do anything however, she leaves. Her shoulders are still hunched and she walks with her head cast downwards and a rushed pace to her steps. she leaves the book she was reading behind, but she doesn't seem to notice and before you could say anything she was gone from your site.
Your about to get up and return it to her when your session begins and you lose yourself in teaching archetypes and triangle theorems.

You don't remember the book until your about to leave. Its still sitting there, a few tables down, face up and isolated. You walked over to the book and picked it up flipping to the cover. Great Expectations it reads. You still want to return it to her, but the chances of you two seeing each other are slim you think.
You wonder if you should just give the book back to the library early and flip to the back to see the overdue date.
She can just check it out again if she wants to finish, right? But you pause when you realize there isn't one. Upon further inspection you find that it isn't the school's book. Or the town's or the county's. It's hers.
You sigh quietly to yourself and close the book. To you, its an obvious decision, you have to return it now, what else is there to do?

You put the book in you bag and sling it over your shoulders before heading out of the library and out of the school, towards your house.
Your Name is Genevieve Colibri and this is only the beginning.

[smileyalways]

Day 1

It happened. She died. The doctors told us it wouldn't happen, but they lied. She's gone and Mark…Mark won't stop crying. He hasn't stopped crying.

They told us nothing major would happen, but Genevieve, she's gone and she isn't coming back.

"In her sleep." They said. "She went very peacefully." Like that's any help. They were supposed to make her better. Genevieve was supposed to get better, and we were supposed to go home this week, and celebrate with ice cream and a movie.

They lied to us-Genevieve, the doctors, the nurses-they all did. First Mom and Dad, now Genevieve- She promised me she wouldn't leave me-she promised. She went back on her word and now she can't even apologize for it.

I'm sad. She left us alone and I want to cry, but the tears won't come. I want to kick and scream and beg and I want to cry, I want to cry and wail and sob like Mark. But nothing comes and I'm scared. I'm scared for me. I'm scared for Mark.

I'm scared of what happens next. I can see the doctors whispering and looking at us where ever we go. They look at us like we should be pitied, but I don't want their pity, I just want Genevieve back.

Mark almost never leaves my side. He's afraid that he'll lose me too. He doesn't bother stopping the tears. He just clings to my hand and lead me around the hospital and the looks they give are enough to drive me mad.

***

I won't let them separate us. Today a lady asked us questions. I didn't say anything. I rarely do. Mark wouldn't either, but we both knew. She told us lies. And tried to play it off with cheap tricks, but we don't trust her. We know where she's from.

Foster care.

I don't want us going to that. I just want to go home and go to sleep and know that Genevieve will be there when I wake up. I want to go back to the yard and think about the cat I was going to ask for. I want to talk to Mark about the dog he was going to ask for. I want our lazy Friday afternoons and I want to see Mark smile. I want Mark to never cry again, because he's too happy to.

I don't want someone else's parents, or relatives. I want Genevieve back.

***

The funeral's soon. No matter what we don't say, they keep their lips pursed and say that we're going to leave soon. I know that wherever we leave to it isn't going to be home. I don't think we'll ever be home in an awhile. And that scares me.

***

When we finally do go home, I feel nothing. (And I'm scared.) Genevieve is all around us in her home. Her perfume is everywhere and her smiles are in my mind all the time. I should feel something and I don't. No sadness, no anger. Mark doesn't even try to stop his tears. The moment he sees the house he's crying and I wonder if I'll ever be like that again.

They tell us to pack and I know this is the last that we'll see this place in a while. I pack my clothes and Mark's clothes and things I know he'll never leave behind from her and things I know I'll never leave behind from here.

Mark washes the dishes and does the laundry and the other chores even though he doesn't have to. (They just watch him with that pitiful look in their eyes) I know it's because of her room. He wouldn't go near the stairs and refuses to say her name. I was able to go into her room, run my hands over her dresser. Breath in the blankets that I hope will smell like her forever. (And I stay awake at night wondering why.)

Soon we're on our way away from the house. Mark looks as if he's going to scream and fight, but he just cries. He thinks the same thing I do, though.

Genevieve told us that we were a family, that she'd never leave us, that because we were family we had to look out for each other, but she'd look out after us most of all. Now she's go...now she's dead and we are the only family we have left.

***

Where we slept was nothing like home. Even the sterile hospital had been better, and she'd died there.

***

The funeral's today. Mark's stopped crying, but for some reason, I don't think that's a good thing.

They tell us that when we're older that we'll be able to come back. That even though Genevieve's house belongs to the state, we'll be able to come back when we're older. All of her stuff is being stored away, but the state still owns her house and the state still owns us.

We have to go to the funeral. Mark's started crying again, and the other kids make fun of him. The kids our age laugh and call him a baby, I'm not sure what I look like, but all I do is stare at them and they stop. They've started to keep their distance from us, and I'd prefer it that way.

***

The service is small. Genevieve had no relatives other than Mark. Not in the states anyway. They wouldn't even let us see her one more time. The casket is closed.

Few words are spoken and it's Mark and I throwing a handful of dirt into her grave. They look at us like we're helpless. They don't even know us. They didn't even know Genevieve. And soon enough we're going again and I can only look back at the cemetery as they take me away from Mark's mom.

I'm scared. Genevieve is dead, Mark is always sad, I don't know how I felt before this, and now they're planning to take us away from the only home we've ever known.


lol remember when Storie and Mark were animals? Remember when I had them be possible love interests? Remember when my characters had no depth? (not that they do now...) Yeah, but i prefer them being people than them being animals. Same goes for everyone except the Mage Wolves and my cat characters

[smileyalways]

This is kinda like Mark's part to the snipet up there.^

***

Okay, so I kinda like the holidays. A lot. There were just better memories of being with Storie during the holidays and crap when we finally made it on our own, y’know?

No more bouncing around the foster care system with crappy foster parents who didn’t know us getting us equally crappy presents. No more getting ‘leftovers’ if their bratty kids didn’t want their overpriced toys. No more offensive presents like eye patches and books that teach how to not be ‘angry’. No more overly religious weird foster parents who rather have sit at a sermon than at home. (And especially) No more not having money, because they ‘needed’ it more and Storie and I having to settle for teaching each other a different language for Christmas.

When Storie turned 18, the first thing she did was make herself my legal guardian and promised me we’d never go back. And when I turned 18 in the following May, I knew we wouldn't.

We had plenty of time to get on our feet by the time Christmas rolled around with her birthday being in April and everything. We had a small apartment, with heat that barely worked, a lumpy couch and one mattress to both our names, but it was ours. And that Christmas season was the best month of my life.

We both worked double shifts and barely saw each other the entire time, but it was great. The entire apartment was decorated during the times we were at home and the hand-me downed Christmas tree we bought had steadily gathered presents as the days ticked down.

In the end however it was only about seven presents each, but that was more than I ever had before. Storie probably remembers all of the things we got each other better than I do (but she’s always been sentimental with memories anyways, who the hell knows why). The only thing I remember getting her is a bracelet with (annoying) bells on it that she still wears constantly and a miniature windmill that she keeps in different places every time I go over her place nowadays. The only thing I remember Storie buying me was a new pocket watch, made of platinum, with a chain of Iron. I’d manage not to lose it throughout the years.

(If you ask Storie, she’ll list everything we got each other that year and how we both managed to only have three of the original gifts out the 14 between the both of us.)

Eventually we moved out of that crappy apartment and found new people to spend our lives with. Storie found Mink and I found Mink’s brother, Radiation. We later started to spend our Christmases with them, when we all became roommates and it was pretty great in a crazy sorta screwed up kinda way.

Storie and I had only ever had to buy things for each other, but we knew another inside and out and we were pretty introverted from others and were far from anything considered social. Luckily for Storie and I, neither were Mink and Radium.

Mink was quiet; she barely spoke and seemed to only communicate in glances and glares, an art form her brother perfected and Storie wasn’t far behind. She and Storie became fast friends often just sitting in silence and giving each other looks from across rooms or just from on the couch together and now I see why they got together.

With Radium and I, it was completely complicated. He was timid around me, who freaking knows why. I admit, I was a little brash around, well, everyone. And being a cynic didn’t really help. The glares from both Mink and Storie didn’t really help either. The first few months of us living together was him avoiding me and me painfully trying not to scare him off. By the time Christmas rolled around I was no longer treading on eggshells whenever I talked to him and he in turn seemed to get used to my “charming” personality.

But then there was the matter of Christmas. Right on time, two weeks into December, I woke up and everything was different. It had finally dawned on me that my favorite holiday would be arriving so soon I could practically taste the peppermint. And I was ecstatic. By the end of the week I had already completely decked out the apartment, bought sweaters, and completed my holiday shopping. (The only thing I never bought was mistletoe, never any reason to.)

Storie had expected this, so acted casually as usual, but Mink and Radium were different situations completely.

They were completely blown away by my sudden mood change. Mink eyed me curiously all while I was decorating with Storie and Radium always looked at me with this new weird light in his eyes and this surprised expression whenever I was being, as Mink described as ‘cheery’, but what did she know anyway? Those two exchanged more of their stupid mental talks, but I was in too good of a mood to care about what they weren’t telling me.

But I was convinced Radium was pretty put off by the entire thing. After two days he started to avoid me again, but this time is was worse. Whenever I tried talking to him he’d get all flustered and avert his eyes like he did when we first became roommates. I’d walk in on him talking with Mink and they’d immediately stop talking, Radium blushing and excusing himself to another room. It frustrated me to no end; I mean what the heck could they be talking about anyway?

I tried getting it out him once or twice, but didn’t want to push any limits. He’d insist it was nothing and go right back to reading or listening to music, or both, occasionally glancing at me while I pretended I didn’t notice. (He’d stare at me sometimes and I would feel my frustration grow and my face burn at being looked at for so long.)

This went on until Christmas Eve. We all had work earlier in the day, but had the night off and we spent it sitting and talking and laughing, drinking hot chocolate and coffee in the sweaters I bought everyone. Radiation seemed surer of himself than he had the entire month and when I asked Mink about it she gave me a blank stare.

Okay, so it probably meant more than that, but to hell with that.

I finally figured out what was going on when I went to go check on the cookies and honestly I am the stupidest, most oblivious human being to walk this god forsake earth I swear to god.

I was coming back in with the tray when Storie was sitting back down and Mink had a camera in her hand.

“Christmas photos, so we can remember this.” She said.

“Bullcrap.” I said back to her.

“Stop being the Grinch.” Said Storie

Nothing from Radiation, other than him blushing, his cheeks on fire and averting his eyes- no surprise there.

But Storie had already called me the Grinch so of course there was literally no turning back. (It’ll be a cold day in fiery pits before someone calls me the Grinch of all things.) I practically slammed the cookies down to glare at her and she smiled at me. I had taken the bait and I was playing right into whatever game she was playing and couldn't care less.

Mink had directed me to stand in front of hallway and took a single picture. And before I could start my way back to my chair and start an argument with my ‘darling’ sister, she dragged Radiation to stand next to me. He stood a bit away from me and to get her so-called perfect shot she urged him to get closer. And closer. And closer. We were standing shoulder to shoulder then and he still wouldn’t look at me.

And that’s when my sister told him to go for it.

I was too busy opening my mouth to ask “what the heck are you talking about?” to see what Radiation was doing, but in one swift and fluid moment, he turned me to face him, tilted my chin upwards (and thinking back I did see the tell-tale green and white of mistletoe above us), and next thing I knew his lips were on mine.

My first thought was boy is this cliché. My second thought was this is what those weirdos been hiding from me. My third was wow, he is a great kisser and this is actually pretty nice.

Slightly chapped, tasting of bitter coffee, the way he moved his lips against mine.

My hands resting on his waist, standing on my tiptoes to angle myself better, the snap of camera shutter that broke us apart.

You don’t really know how much you want to kiss a guy ‘til you stop doing it.

We kinda just stared at each other for like an entire minute, me looking at his flushed face and sea green eyes. We were both blushing like crazy and I’m pretty sure I was gaping at him like a fish.

I was a little surprised,-didn’t really know he swung that way. And come to think of it, he didn’t know I swung for all teams. I mean the closest I’d gotten to doing anything like that was going back to the same starbucks for three weeks just to see the agender cashier that worked there.

And it’s not like I never thought about being in a relationship with Radiation before, I was just…taking my time. He was a pretty anxious person and I would have never guessed that he actually liked me. I mean, if you hadn’t noticed I’m not the greatest of guys.

Storie eventually asked if we were going to stand there all night or if we should get a room, which only resulted in embarrassed yelling from both of us.

Radiation had took my hand not soon afterwards, giving me a shy smile and I may have forgotten a lot of things over time, (how Storie’s my sister, why I’m blind in one eye, my own birthday for most of the year)but that Christmas wasn’t, and I doubt will ever be lost to my memory.

And years later we had our own Christmas.

We’d head out mid-morning in early December, me dragging him by the hand through stores, picking out decorations to cover our apartment in, and buying a fake tree and ornaments, decorating all day and buying gifts for Storie and Mink (he was really convenient when I kept trying to get the same things every year), and laughing at his bad attempts to wrap the presents and arguing about Christmas music of all things.

We hosted Christmas parties, at first with just Storie and Mink and then later with the brats they called their children.

(Five of them. Five! Twins girls, a sickly boy, the middle kid that gave off weird vibes, and the one precious angel out of the five of them. The seven of them in our house.)

They’d come Christmas eve, all of their presents in tow and the next morning we’d all open them all presents over hot chocolate and strawberry pancakes.

And never in my life have i’ve ever been happier.

***

Okay so this is technically out if the snipet up there's canon, but i'll just plead with Mark's suppression.
Heh. So, Storie and jax are no longer a thing and that is for the better tbh.

[smileyalways]

Did someone say part 2? I think someone definitely did.

Day 2

It’s been four months. Four months since Genevieve died and left us alone. Four lonely months Mark and I have only had each other.
Mark no longer clings to me like a life line and I can feel myself worrying about him leaving me forever.

He says he won’t, that he’ll never leave me on my own, and I trust Mark, but…

I still find myself thinking of him being here one day and then gone the next.

Like Genevieve.

Like my parents.

I don’t know where they are. At least I know where Genevieve is. At least Genevieve hadn’t meant to abandon us. My parents were just there one day and gone the next. They always said how they’d be around to teach me the secrets of the world, but I guess that was just another lie too.

They said that we would experience life and Mark and Genevieve would join us. My parents. They taught me the languages of their homes, promising me that we’d go there one day.

Dutch.

French.

Dutch stuck, but it’s just another useless skill, with more empty promises about being together for years to come.
I can only hope Mark’s is true.

He said he won’t leave me, but I find it hard to believe anything anymore-especially after Genevieve lying to us-after almost everyone we've known has lied to us. Like we can’t understand. Like we can’t understand that our mother died. That she died and we’re alone in this world now. That Mark and I will only ever have each other.

***

Mark’s stopped crying so much. On some days he would seem fine and then would just start crying. Silent tears streaming down his face and he scared them.

They would ask him questions, but Mark and I know better now. We don’t talk. He got us moved around a lot that way, not talking to anybody when he started and I don’t talk anymore.

It scares the teachers too. In school they just stare and whisper like the doctors did. And so do the other kids. They don’t come near us, only just to ask questions, but we rarely answer.

Mark and I are rarely apart in school. When we apart, Mark handles it just fine, but i find myself biting my nails and always wondering if he'll come back to me, or just leave me by myself. I've told this to Mark and sometimes we'll skip class or school altogether.

***

I think it’s weird. Being around this many people, All the time for five days a week. Then, we’re not able to do anything out of turn. No talking, no eating, just doing what we’re told (they’ll tell you what we’re expected) and that being the end of it.

My parents had home-schooled me. My parents had home-schooled Mark. I’m not sure why. But we would go on hikes for science and paint our ‘minds’ for art. Go and talk to strangers to learn about people, read Shakespeare and Hawthorne to see how people could be represented. My parents would always say we needed to learn, not be taught.

When Genevieve could, she joined us, teaching us about math and history and how easily it could be distorted to the winner’s liking. She always said that we needed to learn this as soon as possible, so we know to always think about the other side of an argument.

Sometimes I wonder if that was right to teach to two 8 year olds this.

But I guess it was all for the best. Even after my parents left me, Genevieve had still insisted on homeschooling us and trying to teach us what she could, but sometimes she spent more time staring than teaching. I think we all did in those three years.

We thought about my parents a lot, although I tried not to dwell too much on it. My only thoughts were why they left me and what I did wrong to make them leave.

I think Genevieve thought about them more than I did.

Genevieve and my parents were close. They always said they’d do anything for her. They helped Genevieve get her house. They helped her raise Mark. They trusted her with my life. For some reason I could never shake that they were…something more? I’ve heard that phrase a few times, and I think it fits.

***

We’re moving in a few days, and the process routine now. Mark and I pack up our stuff, they come, pick us up, drop us off, and in a few days we’re with entirely different people.

At least th-our foster parents aren’t always bad. They normally try to get close to us, but we don’t let them near us. This is usually what gets us moved.

We don’t try to get close to them. And Mark and I don’t want to either.

***

We’re with the new foster parents now. Janet and Kent. They seem alright, but Mark still glares at them. They don’t seem put off about which I guess is good. But I’m surprised- Mark usually cries.

He hasn't been sad, not of late, but he’s been really angry. Glaring at almost everything and everybody. When we talk he says that he’s mad, that he’s furious-at my parents, at Genevieve, at everything. But he said he’s angry at himself most of all.
And he’s not quite sure why.

***

I don’t talk. Not to anyone but Mark and I think that’s what unnerves Janet and Kent the most-My silence. I don’t have anything to say, not to them or anyone else really. I don’t say anything to Teachers, kids, teenagers, guidance counselors. Mark’s told me to speak Dutch around them, and I’ve thought about, but it just seems too cruel.

Mark does it all the time though. He speaks French in front of them all the time and I can see how they don’t like it. They’re brows pinch together and their eyes narrow. In school kids laugh, when he talks to me all I can do is respond and think about how they all stare at me while I do it.

Mark and I have been doing this for about 2 months now. We teach each other our languages, but it was Mark’s idea to speak it in front of others. I’m scared that Mark will leave me like everyone else did, so I go along with it, even though I don’t want to.

I’m afraid he’ll leave me.

[smileyalways]

About Storie Book and her gf

Our first kiss behind the school. Brash and uncoordinated. Teeth clashing and nervous breathy laughs that filled the air around us. Hiding from the cruel world we knew all too well.

Shy glances at each other and the brush of her hand against my knuckles and the soft smile that i could barely contain as i looked at her, trying to tell May how much i loved her, just by looks alone.

How casual we became with each other in a matter of days. How with prying, judgmental eyes all around us, I had to restrain myself. For us. For her.

How, whenever we left town we held hands and laughed and kiss and felt like we were free in a world that caged us.

Months later when my foster parents found us out. The screaming and crying that still echo in my head sometimes. How in my head the words 'My fault, My fault.' Circled for hours at a time.

How, within just a short week, I had gotten her moved to California. How, within in a short week, I had gotten moved back to my hometown, with a new set of people who would never love me like Genevieve had.

My first girlfriend, the first person i ever felt would understand after Mark leaving me, gone. Because of me. Because it was my fault.

[smileyalways]

I’m not really sure what wakes me up at first.

I’ve been told that i’m a heavy sleeper on several different occasions and I’ve been guilty of sleeping through alarm and pressing the snooze button multiple times in one one morning. So, it strikes me as odd why i would wake up so easily.

Unlike other times i don’t wake up groggy to the blaring and inane noise of an alarm clock with morning sunlight glaring raucously in my eyes. No, this time i wake up in a blink of wakefulness, and darkness shrouds me on all sides. And instead the tell tale beep of an alarm clock it’s quiet sobbing that pulls me from my dreamless slumber.

"Sobbing?"

I’m only confused momentarily before my i’m overflowing with concern, fear, and somehow a bittersweet feeling of familiarity that hangs precariously at the back of my mind.

There’s quiet sobbing coming from next to me and in an instant, i’m upright, turning on the lamp that sits on my nightstand, and looking next to me to the source of the noise that leaves a dull aching in my chest.

My amber-brown eyes meet with bloodshot russet ones that flash with guilt, surprise, and of pretense that I can only recognize as "I’ve been a nuisance to you and i always have been." before they turn away from me.

My girlfriend is crying next to me in our bed.

My mind blanches for a moment, a wave of remembrance threatening to capsize me as I have to remember-this is not Radiation, and this crying is not because he’s having nightmares.

This is my girlfriend, this is Storie, we’re in a bed, in her room, in her house, and she needs me, not to quell nightmares of raining sand and the promise of Tomorrow, but for another reason, that i know, unfortunately, little to nothing about.

Despite those circumstances, I still manage to scoot closer to her, while she, in retaliation,turns away from me, shrinking in on herself, and moving away, managing to not fall of our bed in the process. I scoot even closer and put my hand on her back, rubbing circles in what I hope to be a soothing and reassuring matter.

Storie just curls more into herself, choked back sobs racking her body even more so. I don’t stop though.

"Storie," I prod trying to be as gentle as possible. "Storie, what’s wrong?"

She doesn’t answer-not right away anyway and I had kinda expected that. It’s a few more moments of hiccuping sobs before she turns to me and catches my lips in a desperate and hard kiss.

I allow it. I know it just her way of coping with things, momentarily anyway. She’s told me once before. She can’t help but “Rely on others like a crutch, while being a two ton weight dragging them down”. I digress that statement, but that doesn’t stop her anxiety.

Storie grabs at the front of my shirt and deepens the kiss, pressing harder for just a second longer and then its gone. The pressure, the hand that clung to my shirt, even the sobs, that expel into silent weeping and gaze cast down to the space between us.

I try not to let it bother me. I push my annoyance away, because that’s the last thing she needs.

Instead of focusing on my own feelings, I focus on who’s emotions mean more right now.

I take Storie’s face in my hands and make her look up at me. I don’t say anything, but the look i hope i give her should convey it all.

'Please tell me.'

What i get in response is a shaky sigh and she lies down, dragging me with her.

"I-It was…It was May." She stutters out.

'Oh.'

I’d heard about May before. It was just a brief mention. She’s an old Ex of Storie’s, though I hadn’t got much other than that. Until now, however.

"I never really did tell you how what happened between her and I." She continues and I wait patiently for her to.

The entire tale is bit lengthy, but i listen to every word. It’s important to her, so it’s important to me and i get the whole story of what happened between the two.

It was a scenario all too typical around here. Storie had met May and her cousin William while attending one of the catholic schools around here and they had fallen in love. Fast forward a couple of months to being walked in by Storie’s current foster parents and within a short week she had gotten both May and Will moved to California and she was moved across the state again.

A new school. A new set of Foster parents. A new set of guilty weights added upon her shoulders.

Her dream, she tells me, was the screaming, crying and entire guilty aftermath.

I’m horribly relieved.

She was feeling guilty.

I am such a bad person.

When she’s finished, I pull her closer to me and we don’t say anything, there’s no need, to.

After a few more moments of just being next to each other i lean back and turn the lamp back off, once again drowning us in darkness and leaving the sound of our breathes resonating in the air.

"Mink, how did know how to deal with all of this?”

Well if that isn’t a loaded question i don’t know what is. But she already poured her guts out to me, and returning the favor is the least i could do for her.

So i pull Storie so her head is resting against my shoulder and i wind my arms around her torso. My nose presses against her thickly curled hair and I breathe it in. I really don’t want to tell her. If anything it should be Radiation telling her. it is more his business than mine anyway, but i press on albeit a bit reluctantly.

"Well, after…after the accident, Radio had a lot of, well, nightmares." My throat catches and suddenly i’m chocking back tears to tell her. Never thought it’d be this hard to tell anybody about the aftermath. I'm surprised about how easy these tears are taken out of me, though.

"He was only 13 when it happened, and after he got out the hospital he took to sleeping in my bed with me." I’m definitely crying now. It’s weird really. For all these years i’d kept all this to myself. There was never any need to tell them.
(Its a difficult feeling to express properly, i was never the emotional type and having this so easily...weaseled? Out of me is slightly embarrassing.)

It’s not like I really had anyone to tell them to anyway. But this broken girl ran into a another with her glass half empty and maybe its for the better and maybe it’ll be for the worse.

"He’d have them every night." I continue on; the crescendo has yet to come. "At first it was bolting upright and words dying on his lips, but he’d start to wake up like you did."

I’m not sure how she can even understand me now. I don’t understand why this is making me so emotional either, it never really mattered to me before, but here i am sobbing into Storie’s hair. Sometime during the tale she’s brought her arms to twine around my shoulders and as i fall into myself, she’s the one consoling me like i’m the one who woke up from a nightmare.

Well, in a way, I guess I did.

We stay like that until both our breathes even out and we fall asleep in each other’s arms. And in the morning when i’m waken (rather rudely might I add) by our alarm clock for the fourth time, I find it’s not as bad when she’s there, still half sleep and smiling up at me, her russet colored eyes turning an even more brilliant copper color in the early morning sun.

***

From thiiiiisss
Storie and Mink being dorks and crap

[smileyalways]

From this prompt and with Storie, May, and Mink.

This is the song.

***

It took a lot of guts for me to come here.

It still kinda hurts-I won’t lie, but it’s a different kind of hurt this time. It’s more familial now than anything. I don’t love her, not the way I used to, and the ache in my chest now is similar to when Stephanie told me her boyfriend cheated on her, when Robin got into her accident, and when Zach is bedridden from time to time.

It’s me knowing that she was hurt, that I was the reason she was hurt, but looking at her now, I know just like Stephanie and Zach and Robin she was able to come back and be better from it. She’s happy now.

May’s happy and it shows in the way she dances and dips across the floor with her wife in their white dresses, face glowing and laughing and being absolutely radiant.

My ex who I got moved across 5 states invited me to her wedding after almost 15 years.

I Still find it all pretty incredible. May doesn’t hate me for what I did to her, what I did to William, she never blamed me in the first place, and even confessed to looking for me everywhere. I find this hard to believe, but I trust May.

(God, even after so much time I still trust her.)

So, I watch them. I watch the way they sway and even stumble across the dance floor. Like everyone else I watch the way those two are happy finally the way they wanted to be. I watch as Iris dips her wife despite being shorter and seeing those two go into a fit of giggles in what is no doubt an inside joke ZI will never be able to comprehend.

I watch and realize, not for the first (nor last) time, all wounds really do heal.

And that most scars will not fade.

My attention turns to the music after awhile. It’s a really upbeat, almost synthetic pop tune, that I know Radiation would probably love. It’s something that absolutely should not be danced to like that, but either way I find myself tapping my foot idly.

Eventually the song changes to something slower, more mellow. The soft melody is a welcome change from the previous song. I enjoy it from where I sit at a table, and for some reason I have deja vu. The song settles my mind and calms me. I don’t question why, and maybe I should, but I enjoy the peace it brings me.

That is until the chorus starts. The words set off a bomb in my head and it’ all I can do to stop myself crying right then and there.

I look to May and she meets my eyes, giving me an apologetic smile over Iris’s shoulder and turns her head away before I can be sure the shining in her eyes is just the light.

Its our song. (I wonder if Iris knows.) The song we always listened to. (She has to know.) When we were happy, when we sad, when we were angry, or frustrated, or when we didn’t want to listen to anything else. (Marc and Radiation spent a week composing their playlist, she has to know.) The same song I learned to forget.

(The same song I could never forget.)

I can feel heat pin prick the back of my eyes. An old, familiar, and piteous feeling blooms in center of chest and the anxiety that I hoped would be avoidable rears it’s head. My heart aches and I can’t do this here, not with so many people, their going to be watching all of them are going to know.

I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder and oh god-

It’s Mink.

Oh.

We stay like that for a minute, just staring at each other, and I wonder if she knows. I wonder if she can see my unshed tears.

“Let’s go dance.”

What? “What?” Dancing?

I’m not sure if I even heard Mink right before she’s hauling me up and guiding me to the dance floor.

“Mink, you know I don’t dance.” There’s no way in hell i’m doing this. Not with all these people. Not with May still in this room.

“Not here.” She says, quiet just above the music. She leads me pass the dance floor and out of the reception hall, into the a small corridor where the song is muffled. Mink turns back to me and squeezes my hand. “Indulge me.”

She smiles and the way she does it I know she ‘s hiding something, and I can’t tell what, but-

But I trust Mink.

I sigh quietly and give her hand a small squeeze back.

“Just this once.” I tell her. And my voice only shakes a little “Only because its a wedding.”

“Reminds me of our wedding.” She says bringing me closer and settling her hands on my shoulders and waist. I can feel her wedding band through the fabric of my shirt.

She always knows how to catch me off guard. She always know how to get my mind off of something even if the lyrics are being re-seared into my head.

“Yeah.” That was one of the happiest moments in my life. We had to get married like Marc and Radiation-out of state, but it was worth it. One day we were engaged and the next we were married. My only regret was waiting so long to do it.

She always knows how to calm me down.

We stay like that for a while. Even after the song fades out and the next one comes on. We stay like that.My arms holding her close to me as we dance, the steady thrum of her beating heart taking my mind off the beat to another song.

When we make our way back into the reception hall, hand in hand, I catch May’s eye. When my heart starts to ache this time though, I find it isn’t as bad with my wife by my side.

[smileyalways]

I didn't want to come here. I didn't us to come here. I didn't want Storie to come here. And yet here we are and there she is, like almost everyone else watching the two newly weds dip and prance across the dance floor. And here I am watching her from where she sits a little ways off, because I know this can't be good.

Storie's ex girlfriend invited her to her wedding. I think it was completely idiotic of her. She hasn't seen her in over 15 years and has no idea what she's been through, has no idea how much Storie's changed, and what was May thinking anyway? I understand that she wanted her to be there for her special day, but she has no idea how Storie is now.

She might think she does, she might even say I don't, but she doesn't, and the nights when I woke up to my girlfriend sobbing in our bed, obviously says more for me than for her.

May does not know my wife any more than I know hers.

I grit my teeth in frustration and my jaw aches uncomfortably as I do so. I need to stop doing that, but lately every little thing is seeming to piss me off more and more. The reception is only adding on to my agitation and I try to stomp it down the best I can, but it's hard. I refuse to direct my focus to May, Iris, or Storie because as of late, they're the only people who make me want to punch a wall. And anything else just reminds me of the three of them. I try to concentrate on something else-anything really, but my anger never has been easy to diffuse.

Eventually I relax a little, by picking at my nails and I find it's easier to let my mind wander a bit after loosening up. My mind almost instantaneously drifts to the music that's being played at a moderate-ish volume and I find myself smiling at the synthesizers and electro-pop tunes that bounce off the walls. Radiation would love this and I make a mental note to get the name and artist of the song later.

I find immersing myself in the music is a good way to take my mind off of the fiasco undoubtly brewing. Before long the song changes from the pop-y synthetics and goes to something more mellow with a really nice guitar rift and soft melodies. I wonder if Marc likes music like this. It sounds like something he would probably enjoy and I figure I'll get this song too, while I'm at it.

I probably shouldn't have left my mind drift. I know I shouldn't have.

I trust Storie, I really do. I trust her with my life and there is no one I could possibly want to spend the rest of my days with, honestly. But I don't trust emotions, and people can't trust their emotions, can't control their emotions. They're the things that make us human, but they're also the things that we, as humans, fear the most.

From where I stand I can already how Storie is just on the cusp of being breaking.

How is it that someone who has gone through so much, and has come back from it better, can be torn apart so easily? You would think the impenetrable walls she built up would tower into the sky and be made of concrete and metal, you would think that, and in reality so would I. Our children do and so does everyone we know, but sadly that isn't the case. The walls Storie has spent years building and painstakingly so, just seem that way. In actuality those seemingly concrete and mile high walls are only minuscule and flimsy, being able to be knocked down with a single kick. Or a single song.

My heart aches.

Storie's head is dipped, the tensing in her shoulders and the slight tremble to them, telling me all I need to know. The walls are already crumbling and I again can feel frustration pooling in my chest, and I again stuff it down, for her.

I stride up to Storie and place my hand on her now quivering shoulder. When she whips her head around and her russet eyes meet mine, only a few emotions pass her face. Fear and panic, being replaced with recognition, then guilt and maybe curiosity? I can't be too sure before she settles her face back into impassiveness, but I can still see how her eyes shine with unshed tears.

Doesn't she know what's she's doing to me? I may never fully understand, but does she not know what this does to me? The pain she's causing me right now? How much it hurts seeing her like this, over someone else? I love Storie, and I know she loves me too. I know she may never get over May, but it still hurts. Knowing that, even after years there's a possibility that she still might love her that way.

But know this is the last thing she needs. The last thing Storie needs is feeling guilty because I trust her, but I don't trust her emotions, her past. I know this is the last thing she needs, so I suck it up, I push away the anger, the jealousy, the state of betrayal that I feel coursing through my veins. It's the last thing she needs right now.

"Let's go dance." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can think twice about them. Storie's eyes dart about the reception hall, and her eyebrows are already scrunching up in confusion, but I'm taking her hand and pulling her up anyway.

"Mink, you know I don't dance." She says and I can feel how she tries to resist only a little. I know from past experiences she isn't going to dance with all these people around, so I lead her out of the reception area and into the corridor, where the music isn't as loud.

"Not here." I say trying to be at least a little reassuring and squeezing her hand. I lead her away from where all her trouble lie and I wonder how many more times I will have to do this in my life. "Indulge me." I don't realize I say the words until Storie's exhaling a small sigh that lets me know I'll have my way. If only just this one time.

"Just this once. Only because it's a wedding." Storie all but grumbles and I smile, bringing her closer and wrapping my hand in hers.

"It reminds me of our wedding." I chuckle. Because it does. The cake, the music, even then when she had to be persuaded into dancing in front of everyone, it's probably the second or third happiest day in my life, on par with the Twins and Zach being born.

Storie squeezes my hand a little tighter while we sway and I almost miss the "Yeah." she breathes, i'm so caught up in my mind.

I Know she's thinking about it now-our wedding day. Storie was a little upset we had to get married out of state, but later she felt it was all worth it, and I agree with her. The least we could have done was get married.

We stay there until the song fades off and the next one comes on, and we only part because I figure we should probably get back to the reception hall. So we go back hand in hand, my wife by my side.

***
sequel to that ^