Onwards: A Transcendence Short

Free-Jones Apartment

New York City

United States of America

September 21xx

When Ansel wakes up that morning, the first thing his senses register is the scent of pancake batter all the way from the kitchen. 

He sits up slowly, blinks, and rubs at his eyes. The bedroom was still dimly lit; upon squinting around, he realizes it’s because the blinds haven’t been drawn. They remain closed, preventing the sunlight from flooding inside the room. It’s almost enough to encourage him to lie back down and try to grab another half hour’s worth of sleep; after all, he didn’t have to work on that day. 

Ansel tries to get back to sleep, but his curiosity wins over and he ends up sitting up, groaning as he stretches. Parts of his back make popping noises. The brunet grunts quietly as he rotates his neck, attempting to stretch out the sleepiness that had been left behind. 

When he feels ready, he gets up and approaches the bedroom door to creak it ooen, take a peek outside. Ansel isn’t sure why he feels nervous all of a sudden—after all, it was only Elena who would be in the kitchen. 

So he opens the door. The scent of breakfast comes stronger, and before he knows it, he’s approaching the apartment’s kitchen area. 

Ansel sees Elena. 

Embrace: A Transcendence Short

Free-Jones Apartment

New York City

United States of America

July 21xx

“You don’t have to do this.”

They remained in bed; Elena comfortably sitting while Ansel lay in her lap. She ran her fingers through the curls of his hair, gently tugging and wrapping her fingers around them. It was what Ansel liked; he liked having her play with his hair. If anything, it was soothing. Almost too soothing—he almost forgot to respond to what she had just said.

“I know. I know I don’t have to. But I want you to know.” His eyes met hers and the corner of his mouth lifted in an attempt to smile. “You deserve to know, Lena. I don’t want to hide from you anymore.” She pursed her lips.

“Only if you’re sure,” she eventually agreed. Ansel moved, adjusting himself into a position more comfortable for both of them. His head rested against her stomach and her other hand lightly stroked his side in comfort. “Where do you want to start?”

“With how it feels. How it feels for me, at least. It affects everyone differently.” She nodded, “…have you ever gone swimming by the ocean?”

“I have, with my family and Amelia. It was a long time ago,” Elena frowned slightly, “but I can still remember.”

“How strong were the waves?”

Warmth: A Transcendence Short

Free-Jones Apartment

New York City

United States of America

July 2121

For the first few days after his breakdown, Ansel refused to come out of the bedroom. He stayed curled up in bed, not quite moving or making contact with anyone, including Elena. Ansel expected that Marion told her that his refusal to interact with the world was one of his ways to recover (despite how shitty it was); he was simply too tired to have to explain to anyone else why his defence mechanism was as effective as wrongly-assigned medicine.

During the next three days, he kept in bed, not really moving unless he had to go to the bathroom or unless Elena brought him something to eat. When he ate, he ate slowly in bed, feeding himself whatever the brunette had brought into the room. Whenever he was not eating, he tried to sleep as much as he could. When sleep was too much, he simply shifted in bed and stared at whatever his eyes landed on, mind too hazy to navigate through.

Part of him felt guilt for going off and neglecting Elena while staying under the sheets. The other part of him merely allowed itself to be dragged down even further.

Whenever she came in to gently put the tray of food on the nearby table, she would always sit nearby and stroke his hair for a couple of minutes. In those minutes, Ansel felt his mind clear a little bit; her touch and her presence pulled him away from the waters slightly to the point of him wanting to open his mouth and talk.

But instead, he only kept to himself, staying in bed and letting her touch his hair, his forehead. He would hear her sigh, feel her warm lips against his forehead. After, her presence would leave the room and it felt a little more colder than it was before she came in.

Firsts: A Transcendence Short

Free-Jones Apartment

New York City

United States of America

June 2121

I.

The first time Ansel bares his symptoms to Elena, he’s crouched over his desk at an ungodly hour, fingers shaking as he attempts to get through more than half of his current project a higher-up had assigned him to.

The office smells of dull caffeine; the trashcan underneath the desk filled with small bottles of the coffee he purchased at the nearby store just hours ago. At that point, the slightest rays of sunshine peek from behind the heavy blinds. Something rings in his head; an annoying throb that makes him swallow. “Fucking shit,” he mutters, attempting to block out the throb with yet another play of the video so far.

There is scenery over the sound of a light piano in the background. He keeps his mind on the screen but his thoughts gloss over, the throb ebbing stronger and stronger to the point of him pausing the video and running his fingers through his hair. Ansel attempts to calm his breathing, attempts to remove the headset with shaky fingers and shakier hands. The caffeine in his system rejects the work done and his body feels on the verge of collapsing—

He hardly notices his shaking until the lights flicker on, and a pair of hands cups his cheeks, jolting him back. His vision sharpens immediately from the blurred mess it was. He sees Elena staring at him, her eyes a pool of worried blue and suddenly feels everything from the cold air on his skin to the warmth of her hands. He opens his mouth, tries to speak, but nothing comes out.

Sessions: A Transcendence Short

Blythe Office

New York

United States of America

September 2113

“I’m actually happy that you decided to come back,” the older figure admitted. Ansel could barely meet the psychiatrist’s eyes, only nodding silently in agreement. “Really, Ansel. Not too many patients decide to come back for a second go; they tend to feel that it’s a little too invasive of their privacy, so they’d much rather not continue. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course – it just doesn’t happen as often as I’d like,” he said with a sheepish sort of grin.

“…I figured that it would help me out more,” he answered stiffly. “More than the medications.” Nodding, Ezra reclined and continued looking at him, waiting for him to continue. “The university counselors aren’t too much help. I…thought that seeking a more professional figure would be more beneficial. Towards both of us.”

“You made the right choice.” Ezra pushed closer a small container of gummies; Ansel relented and took a grape-flavored one from the glass case. “Now…do you want to start over, or do you want to tell me how you’ve been lately?”

Ansel hesitated.

“Or,” Ezra offered, “We can go slow again. I can explain what your condition is, get you into the right mindset about it. And then we can begin. Would you like that?”

Taste Testing: A Transcendence Short

Starbucks

New York City

United States of America

September 2120

“You’re a sweetheart for letting me stay here,” Ansel grinned sheepishly at Elena, who rolled her eyes and nudged him into the cafe. “I mean it, Lena. I really do. Thank you. Are you sure it’s okay, though?”

“Management owes me a favor, I’m sure that letting you in immediately wouldn’t count as a work-related offence.” Ansel shot her a grateful smile and immediately sat in his usual booth, taking his laptop out of its case. Elena ducked behind the counter and immediately went into the staffroom, tying her hair up and soon sliding on the familiar apron the employees wore. Upon stepping back out, she saw that the brunet was already hard at work, drumming his fingers anxiously on the wooden table as he stared at the screen with an intense gaze.

She watched him for a moment then glanced at the glass windows. On mornings like those, business didn’t really perk up until eight in the morning, where the usual students and businesspeople would come in for their coffees. It was close to quarter to seven, and usually she spent the morning testing her coffees and experimenting with blends to pass the time. 

Besides, there was nothing wrong with that — if anything, it was a tradition of theirs. Prior to being an employee, there was a time in her college years that she had been invited to taste test some coffees. The branch in her campus was deserted, which was surprising. She then found out from the smiling barista that when the branches were at their ‘dead hours’ (as they fondly called it), the baristas tended to relax a little bit or make new mixes, test around the new batches of coffee brought in. 

Machinery (3/3): A Transcendence Short

Free-Jones Apartment

New York City

United States of America

February 2121

By the divine grace of whichever deity, she had somehow gotten Ansel to take his sleeping pills (aside from this other pill) and sleep. While it took her a full ten minutes of searching whether they could mix pills or not, Ansel dryly mentioned that it was okay and that she shouldn’t worry. Despite his attempts at reassuring her, Elena made sure to keep a close eye on him while he slept.

The brunette conked out immediately. Ansel went out like a light within a few minutes of sinking into the mattress; Elena had watched as he struggled to stay awake and managed a short conversation with her. When he had stopped replying, she checked and the male was already out – she ended up having to take his glasses off so that he could rest comfortably.

Elena resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, lest she wake him up. The bags under his eyes were a little more prominent than usual, and Ansel looked horribly pale. Somehow, sleep was the best state for him at the moment.

Her phone buzzed. Removing it from her pocket, she saw a message from Marion waiting for a reply.

[Marion Salazar]: is he asleep?

[Elena Jones]: Yeah. He took a sleeping pill

At that, Elena realized how…odd it was for Ansel to have sleeping pills just comfortably chilling in their medicine cabinet. She had never noticed it – not even when they had first moved in and had to put all their belongings into their respective places.

So what the hell is it doing there?

Machinery (2/?): A Transcendence Short

Oxbridge University
New York

United States of America

May 2113

Freya gave the desk an irritated few taps while Nico waited for the video call to begin. “What the hell is taking her such a fucking long time, doesn’t she understand that this is a shitty life-and-death situation?”

“Give the woman a break, she’s been studying for finals too.” Nico groaned. He redialed the other’s number on Skype and waited again, “As long as she answers, we’ll be good. We’ll be fine. We’ll be able to settle this without having to panic and eventually settling for the university counselor or some shit.”

“I’ll kill her if she doesn’t answer,” Freya started, but a small beep noise came from Nico’s tablet. The male’s brown eyes widened as he started at the screen and the wild-haired girl immediately scrambled to the bed, nearly knocking over the chair in process. “Salazar? Is that you?”

“What the fuck do you guys want?” an irritated voice came. Staring at the screen, Nico and Freya saw a very unhappy Marion Salazar staring right back at them, her hair tied up and a paintbrush in her right hand. “This better be important, I have a goddamn plate to do and then God-knows how many papers due within the next twenty-four hours.”

Stopping the lady from cussing them out any further, Freya decided that it was best for her (or Nico) to spill out the truth. Her mouth hardened into a thin line.

“Just…listen to us. It’s about Ansel.”

Machinery: A Transcendence Short

Perihelion Studios
New York City
United States of America
January 2121

“You have a really shitty dedication to work,” Marion noted. Ansel said nothing and kept working at his computer, typing at lightning speed while muttering some incomprehensible words under his breath. Marion assumed that they were very technical, video-oriented jargon. “When’s that even due?”

“It’s his long-term project,” Jae-hwang mused from beside Ansel. The Korean, whose hair was now dyed a brilliant shade of teal, watched as the spectacled male kept typing and typing as the seconds passed. “You should have seen him yesterday, M. He was nearly in tears when the fucking program gave him the rainbow wheel of death.”

(At the word death, Ansel gave a small, pathetic noise.)

“The program almost died?”

“Yup. Ansel was going to to start yelling if it weren’t for the program then choosing to spare him.” Jae-hwang paused, “I swear to God he backed up nearly all his files into the first two external drives he grabbed from his bag.” Despite the joking tone in his voice, Marion couldn’t help but give Ansel a worried expression.

Evening Out: A Transcendence Short

New York City

United States of America

December 2120

4:56PM

“Do you think we should postpone this?”

“Nah,” Ansel replied. He shifted the gear to neutral and leaned back, “We’re already on our way, Lena. And I don’t think the rain’s going to get any stronger.” At that moment, a flash of lightning hit the sky, making the twosome jump in the seats of Ansel’s car. The movement of it caused Ansel’s glasses to fall onto his lap.

“…you were saying?”

“It can’t get any worse,” Ansel repeated. “It can’t get any worse at all.” the stoplight flashed green and he shifted to drive, then continued on. 

It was Elena’s post-birthday dinner. She had invited a couple of their friends to go out, and currently, they were (still) on their way to a place Elena had personally picked. Initially, there was some trouble with reserving for the place, as Elena had experienced, but they were able to book a free slot. 

Elena’s phone rang in her hands, and she looked at her screen before answering. “Luke?” 

“Hey, we’re already here. And by we, I mean Rayne, Jae-Hwang, and I,” the blonde answered. Elena blinked. “Uh. The place looks full as shit, El. Are you sure we’ll be able to get a table for all of us?”

“I fucking hope so,” the brunette sighed. “Wait — you, Rayne, and Jae?” 

“Yeah, the three of us are just here and waiting.” 

Elena pursed her lips. “I was only able to book a slot…” she mumbled a quick ‘hold on’ and fished for the paper she had in her bag, “I was able to get the six o’clock slot for us. W31. Do you think you three can watch out just in case Ansel and I get late?”

“We’re not going to be late!” Ansel retorted, still driving. Elena gave a snort. 

Luke laughed. “Yeah, I think that’s possible. We’ll see you soon?”

“Definitely,” Elena agreed. “See you.”

Warning Signal: A Transcendence Short

Club XX
New York City

United States of America

November 2112
12:43AM

“Oh no,” Nico Gomez moaned. “Oh no, oh no, oh no. Fucking hell. Where is Lancaster when you need her,” the black-haired boy whined. Beside him, Danica Castle gave a carefree shrug and idly played with her margarita glass. “Seriously, Dan. You need to text Lancaster before he ends up sprawled on the floor.” 

Both of them turned their gazes to Ansel, who merely sat still in his seat, staring down at a bottle of Cognac and a few cans of ginger ale. Danica quirked a brow and whispered to Nico, “But Free doesn’t even drink.”

“That’s what everyone thought,” Nico whined back. He glanced down at his phone and sent text after text to Freya, who was nowhere to be seen in the club they were taken to. Apparently, it was a good idea, according to Freya, to just get out and start drinking a few weeks before finals. 

[Nico Gomez]: hi freya where the fuck are you

[Nico Gomez]: free’s just slumped in his seat and we’re afraid

[Nico Gomez]: well danica’s not but she doesn’t give a shit

[Nico Gomez]: SOS WE NEED YOU

“Nico, what the fuck are you sending me?” a voice from behind demands. In the midst of noise and multiple bodies all over the place, Nico nearly doesn’t hear if not for Danica pointing to Ansel. 

“Free’s in danger of getting more than loopy,” she explained over the loud music. Nico saw Freya’s eyes widen and she cursed, making her way to Ansel and nearly shoving away anyone who was in her way. She managed to squeeze herself in between, eventually sitting next to the brunet boy and lightly patting his cheek. “Can you fix him?”

“Don’t fucking doubt my abilities,” Freya muttered. She gave Ansel’s cheek another pat and then the male groaned, Nico cheering in the background upon hearing Ansel’s reaction. 

OCs x Social Media: Ansel Free

OCs x Social Media: Elena Jones

Career Switch: A Transcendence Short

Alternate Universe

Starbucks

New York City

United States of America

November 2119

“Free, what the hell are you doing?”

“Manning the register, what does it look like I’m doing—?”

“No, get the fuck out.” Jae-Hwang gave Ansel a sharp look before pushing him aside, the former cracking his knuckles. “I’ve got this. I’ve got the mathematical capability to do this properly. Stay with the drinks.”

“You’re as bad at math as I am,” the brunette protested. “I wouldn’t trust you with the freaking register and money, Hwang.”

“Shit’s digital nowadays.”

“Which is why I can take care of the thing.”

“No, shut up. Stick to the food, drinks, and batting your lashes for your girlfriend.” Ansel punched the man’s arm and the Korean laughed before flashing a grin at a customer who had just arrived at the counter. Sighing, Ansel hung back and moved next to Luke. Luke gave a half-hearted wave.

“Hwang kick you from the register again?”

“That was one time—”

Better Times: A FC/UC Graphic

"I remember asking myself, 

'will it ever get better?'

I waited, waited, waited.

And guess what? It did."

December: A FC/UC Short

Free-Jones Apartment
New York City
United States of America
November 2120

“Do you want to eat something, Lena?” Ansel asked. He peered into their shared office and saw Elena by her desk, working on a drawing with earphones strapped to her ears. The man couldn’t help but smile, coming closer and nudging her shoulder playfully with his free hand. “Lena.”

“Oh, shit, hi,” she greeted. Elena quickly took the earphones off and smiled at the other, rubbing her eyes. “Shit, how long have I been working?”

“A little more than two hours. You weren’t coming out of the office to eat, so I decided to go out and get us something to eat,” he explained. Ansel pulled his own chair over and Elena moved to give him space, “Sushi?”

“Ansel Free actually feels too lazy to cook for once,” she teased. He made a face and she smirked, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Relax, I’m just teasing. What did you get?” She watched as he removed a couple of containers from the paper bag, expression perking up as she took note of what the other had bought.

His salmon sashimi, a few choices of sushi rolls, and there was Elena’s personal favorite: tempura with Japanese fried rice. Ansel took out two large cups of red tea next and she couldn’t help but plant another kiss to his lips. “You really went all out with this, Free.”

“You shared a sushi post on your Facebook, tagged me, and just put a smiley face,” he replied calmly. Elena snorted and then poked his arm.

Clothing Style: Elena Jones

Call For Help: A FC/UC Short

Jones-Lestrange Apartment
Connecticut
United States of America
October 2114

Amelia did not expect for her tablet to ring loudly at two in the morning. Bleary eyes opened and she cursed aloud, grabbing clumsily for the tablet that lay on her bedside table. Squinting at the screen, she could only make out the words is calling you and she pondered whether ignoring the call would be worth it or not.

However, she next spotted Elena Jones and her fingers moved on their own, pressing the accept option immediately. Automatically did the home screen vanish and the familiar layout of Skype open; there was a weird sound of a rustle and one black screen. After a few seconds, her sister’s face appeared in the empty black screen, wrapped comfortably in the comforter she had gotten for college.

The first thing Amelia had noticed was that Elena was crying.

“A-Amelia?”

“Hold on,” the elder muttered. She clumsily reached to the side and turned on the lamp. A warm light filled the room, illuminating and showing Amelia’s sleepy face. Elena could only bury her face into her hands upon seeing.

“Shit, I’m so sorry – I didn’t know you were already asleep,” the girl apologized, hundreds of miles away. Amelia waved it off.

“Don’t worry about it. I just got to bed.” She lied through her teeth easily. If Elena knew that she had gone to bed hours ago, she would let guilt slap her in the face. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

Elena plastered a watery smile on her face. “It’s finals week.”

Levels of Organization: A FC/UC Short

Free-Jones Apartment
New York City
United States of America
July 2119

When they were discussing the logistics of their apartment, one of Elena’s requests was enough space for her own materials. Ansel blinked (he had been sketching a rough layout of their dream apartment) and asked her to specify. Elena then turned a light pink and mumbled that she needed space for her different art materials.

He just smiled and added “more space for Lena” as a footnote.

Elena’s requests actually made the whole hunting process much easier for them. They crossed off apartments that seemed too small, apartments that were made for easy living and not for stay-at-home working. Upon finding The Apartment, Ansel and Elena were ready to fix their own individual workspaces.

Elena wanted a place where she could concentrate on the different forms of her craft. She needed a place where she could fit shelves for her scrapbooks; she needed a place where her different coloring materials could fit. On another hand, she also needed a place where she could graphic design with ease on her laptop.

In her old apartment, her study was nearly a mess as everything was all over the place. Markers mixed with paintbrushes and watercolors, for some reason, ended up where she put her ball pens and highlighters. She didn’t sort her scrapbooks according to newness and sometimes ended up drawing in ones that hadn’t been opened yet. Different novels were scattered on the floor, ones to be read stacked in piles and affixed with a red sticky note.

(Whenever Amelia visited, the older lady would huff and proceed to tidy up the hurricane that was Elena’s office. Elena would grin sheepishly and try to help, to which Amelia always swatted her hand away and asked her to make them some coffee.)

Mood Boards: Elena Jones