Addiction: On Aether Maxwell

i.

arabella likes holding you in her arms.

you still couldn’t believe that you were actually dating her. it had come off as a shock, really; you had thought that she was just being friendly with all the one-on-one tutorials at different coffee shops and restaurants. you had also thought that all her compliments and sweet words were meant in a friendly manner, but apparently not.

it’s not like you were complaining, though. arabella is pretty. arabella has long, red hair that falls straight down her back. arabella has freckles in her cheeks and her brown eyes are the prettiest ones you’ve seen. arabella is pretty, smug, and smart. arabella makes you feel warm on the inside and it’s almost as if you’re experiencing a crush for the first time all over again.

the only thing is that she actually likes you back this time.

you burrow yourself further into her chest. you didn’t know what time it was, and you didn’t actually want to know. never mind that both of you probably have early-morning lectures to attend or any extra-curricular duties you have to get to. all that matters is arabella, arabella’s arms around you, and the sound of her laughter when she sees you move closer for her warmth.

you like her. you like her a lot.

Ornaments: On Samuel Peters

Peters residence

Brooklyn, New York

November 2012

9:32 PM

Thanksgiving and Christmas had always been his favorite holidays.

Aside from the break he could catch on work on both events, it was always fun to see the house dressed up and decorated with an array of ribbons and baubles. His mother had always preferred to decorate the house pretty early; so much that it pretty much became habit for him at that point. Samuel can’t help but smile when he eyes the family pictures on the walls, each of which carefully laced with fairy lights his mother had gotten for cheap.

It’s a little unnecessary, not exactly having any ulterior purpose other than looking nice. But she liked it, and that’s that.

“As great as Seattle is, I missed it here.” He doesn’t have to turn around to tell that it’s his brother. Jake, who was four years older but also four inches shorter, holds two mugs of hot coffee in his hands. He offers one to Samuel. “Don’t really have the time to decorate the apartment down there.”

“Is your internship killing you that badly?” There’s snark in his voice, but surprise as well. Jacob had never missed out on decorating for the holidays, not even when he had lived with them before heading off to college. Samuel hears a small chuckle from his older brother as well as a sip of coffee. He takes a sip of his own.

“You’d be surprised. I’m thankful that I found a good hospital for my internship, but it’s about as hellish as I expected.” Jacob shrugs, “But that’s boring talk for you. How’s working at the station with dad going?”

The station. Right.

Expectation: On Tae Hyeon

Hyeon’s apartment

Seattle, WA

August 2015
2:32 AM

Hyeon tries not to expect too much from people. 

He’s been disappointed one too many times. Friends failed to pull through sometimes. Past partners didn’t really live up to certain promises or commitments. Family’s let him down here and there. Hyeon hasn’t gone through anything particularly traumatizing, no, but after many disappointments lowering his expectations only seemed to make the most sense. After all, doing so seemed like the best way to prevent further hurt from coming his way. 

It seemed like a bandaid solution, but it was the best one he had. 

(And frankly, Hyeon was tired of the wounds.)

The only time he expects is when they let him help. Hyeon’s happy to help; he’s happy to advise, to assist, to manage. He’s more than glad to steer people in the right direction when he notices that something’s gone awry. He knows best, after all. He knows best and wants the best for others, wants them to do no wrong, wants to keep them from disappointing themselves (and him). 

Things worked better when he stepped in. Hyeon often looked at things from a cooler and logical perspective; he had always been the calm one, the rational one, the one with the most objective point of view. He tries not to pride himself too much. 

Candy: On Arabella Lennox

S. University, MTH-213

Seattle, WA

August 2010

10:53 AM

Arabella snaps her strawberry-flavored gum with a loud pop.

She’s always had a sweet tooth. The redhead had been stuffing her mouth with an assortment of candies since younger, and the result had been braces in her early teens alongside a few cavities here and there. Being teased ‘metal-mouth’ didn’t stop her, however. Even after getting the braces removed and going through the entire process of wearing and losing retainers, the penchant for sweets had remained. She couldn’t help it. Doting grandparents on both sides of the family easily meant candies every time they visited. As much as her parents disapproved (although her father sneaked some into his pockets when he could), she couldn’t exactly say no to gramma or grandpa.

Her mother had always warned her against eating too many of them. “You’ll get a toothache, sweetie,” she attempted once. Arabella sucked on a lolly she had purchased from the store nearby, and her mother shook her head in dismay, saying something about toothaches and another trip to the dentist. Arabella, naive and rebellious at her younger age, merely turned a deaf ear and finished the strawberry-flavored snack.

The door slams open. She, alongside a few other students, peek up, startled.

Twos: On Leo Vargas

Leo believed that good things came in twos.

(Or however the saying goes. A friend had corrected him once; Leo chose to remain ignorant.)

I.

When he was in his teens, it only took two rolls of film for him to believe that photography was something he was genuinely interested in. He had stolen his father’s camera during a family gathering and took pictures as he went. Relatives were caught by surprise, friends smiled goofily at the camera--all until his father had asked for it back, at least.

The results after developing said rolls weren’t exactly the best for a kid. Shots were blurry, people were caught in unflattering moments, certain things were out of frame, and a bunch of other mistakes that were forgivable at his age. Regardless, the sight of the pictures and the sentiment behind them was enough to convince Leo that it would be a passion he would invest in for the entirety of his life.

The pictures remain in a dusty, yellowing album until this very day.

Venomous: On Ezra Tully

META Offices

London, United Kingdom

January 2011

11:53 AM

Ezra finds himself at his workstation, hands covering his face. The lights are too bright and the room is spinning a little too quickly for his taste.

He tries to calm his breathing, tries to remember what his boyfriend had told him. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Over and over until the world felt stable enough, over and over until things felt some kind of okay. But since returning to London and receiving the news, “okay” became an unfamiliar, foreign term.

The investigation was called off a little over two months back. Investigators from Seattle deemed Iris Hu’s case as unsolvable and hopeless at that point. There was nothing that could lead them to a centimeter or inch closer to her; nothing that could give them some kind of peace of mind. He and Leo simply had to live with the possibilities. Multiple thoughts of how Iris could have met her end left multiple puncture bites all over his conscience and mind, filling them with gruesome images that kept him up for weeks on end.

The possibilities are venomous.

They kept Ezra up at night. Closing his eyes for more than an hour, maybe two if he was lucky, would almost always lead to seeing Iris dead. The previous night, he saw her with bullet wounds in her chest. The night before that, her body appeared mangled and bruised. The previous week had a bloated, greyed out image of her chasing him down, water pouring out of her mouth. Iris’ voice, soft and eager and sweet, had screamed and cursed and accused him of her death. It sounded garbled.

Girls/Girls/Boys: A Coalesce Graphic

"and love is not a choice."