Part 1: John
Today is the 13th of April, 2012, and it just so happens to be John Egbert's sixteenth birthday. Currently he stands in a small grocery store on an errand to buy cake mix, which he knows is an obvious distraction so that his dad and nanna can decorate the house while he's gone. He'll come home later and pretend to be surprised at the balloons and presents, and then they'll bake the cake together, just like they've done every year previous. Now, if only all the brands here weren't Betty Crocker!
Taken by a sudden moment of passionate anger towards the brand, he reaches out and flicks the red spoon logo with a finger, frowning at it. Yeah, that'll show her. The batterwitch herself might not be able to feel his anger from over in Japan or Greece or wherever she's living at the moment, but maybe, just maybe, her day will be a little worse. Sweet vengeance. The best birthday gift of all.
That having been done, John breathes a sigh of defeat and picks up the very same box he assaulted. It's some fancy chocolate flavor, it'll do. He's really caught up in his one man battle against the clutches of capitalism, and he doesn't notice the girl standing next to him eyeing him with a curious gaze.
The girl coughs politely into her hand, and John startles, turning to look at her while somehow managing not to drop the cake mix. "Oh, um, hi! Didn't see you there!"
The girl waves a hand dismissively, not annoyed or anything. She gestures to the box. "Is it your birthday?" she asks. She's got golden-blonde hair that reaches just below her chin, held out of her eyes in a black headband, and she wears a black cardigan draped over a tank top and a purple skirt that flows to just above her knees. She's got on heavy eyeliner, and as far as John can tell with his limited cosmetic knowledge, the rest of her makeup is flawless, too. Her skin is an olive-y tan color, and her eyes, strangely enough, are a soft lilac color, matching her skirt.
"...Yeah, it is," he says, surprised. The way that she looks at him makes him a little uneasy, and how could she have known that, anyway? He's buying cake mix. That could mean anything. It's a bit too lucky to be just a guess, John thinks.
The girl nods to herself, and holds out a hand. "I'm Rose Lalonde. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"You too?" John says awkwardly, shaking her hand. He notices that she's a lot shorter than him. "My name's John." Her eyes glance down at their hands, and he hastily lets go. She smiles as if she knows something he doesn't, and clasps her hands behind her back.
"It's my birthday, too," Rose tells him.
"Really?" he asks in surprise, unsure if the new context makes her question weirder or not. "Huh, that's so weird. I've never met someone with the same birthday as me."
"I've met a few," she says, a thoughtful look in her eye.
A voice calls from elsewhere, shouting down, "Rose, dear, are you ready to go to lunch?" Rose and John both turn towards the stairs leading to the second floor, the direction the voice had come from.
"Yes, mother," Rose calls back, moving in a graceful stride to pick up a small white purse from the arm of a pristine white couch, putting it over her shoulder. She looks back at John. "You can sit, if you would like," she motions her hand to the white chair next to him.
John's brain catches up with his eyes as they widen, and no, he's not in the supermarket anymore. Somehow. No, he's standing in a nicely decorated minimalistic living room, where classical music plays softly over surround sound speakers and there's a large plush rug covering half the hardwood floor. The air has a fresh, but oddly claustrophobic feeling to it, the kind you get with artificial air freshener.
"John? Something wrong?" Rose asks, raising an eyebrow while John spins around in a quick circle taking everything in. She doesn't look concerned at all, only curious, measuring his reactions carefully.
"Um," John says, not sure how to put this into words. He looks down at the cake mix in his hands, wondering if he's accidentally stolen it, somehow, and when he looks back up he sees the shelf he'd taken it from. He looks side to side once more, and sees only the normal grocery store aisles. "N-no, I just got, um, confused? Was that your mom upstairs?"
Rose smiles. "Yes, we're going out to lunch to celebrate the day of my birth. It will be…" she trails off, frowning. "Expensive, at the least." Her face clears again. "So, John, where are we?"
John blinks. "Is that a test? I'm fine, promise, just got, uh… No. I know where we are," he pretends to scoff, as if insulted that she would ask, that she would think he's crazy or something. Rose looks amused, like she's trying not to laugh, and she might have responded if his phone hadn't started ringing just then.
"You should take that," Rose says, pointing to his pocket. She's still got the little purse hanging at her hip, so John isn't sure what he hallucinated and what he didn't, anymore. Was he hallucinating? The ringtone goes on a bit longer before John snaps out of it and hastily shoves a hand into his pocket, answering the phone just before it missed the call.
"John? Are you still at the store?" It's John's dad, and he awkwardly smiles at Rose before turning away from her a half-step.
"Yes, is there anything else you need?" John asks diligently.
"Some more painkillers, if you don't mind. I already placed an order at the pharmacy, you should be able to pick it up while you're there."
"Did something happen?" John asks cautiously, his worries confirmed when his dad sighs. John stands a little straighter, bracing himself for anything.
"Nanna's just been complaining a bit," his dad explains. That's code for her pain's getting worse, and it's not that John isn't grateful for the sugarcoating, but at the same time, it's a little old. He's sixteen now. He can handle it.
"Got it," John says. "I'll stop by the pharmacy." His dad gives him a brief goodbye, and then the call clicks off. He looks awkwardly back at Rose, who looks like she's pretending not to eavesdrop, but she looks guilty enough that she totally was.
"Everything okay?" she asks, concerned for real, now.
"Yep! Everything's fine," John says, forcing himself to smile. It's practiced enough that it looks genuine. "Do you have to… leave for lunch?" he asks, looking back towards the stairs. There are no stairs in the store. He can see stairs. He can see white couches, and the ornate rug, and smell the artificial air. He can see a shelf full of Betty Crocker products, he can hear old pop songs over the bad quality store speakers. He's going to pretend that he can't.
Rose sighs. "I suppose so. It was nice to meet you." She turns, pauses, and turns back, overcome with curiosity. "Really though, where are we?" He almost protests again but she cuts him off. "No, just, are we in America, at least? What state?"
"Um, yeah, Washington."
"D.C.?"
"No, Washington state. ...Are you okay?" John asks, concerned for her now.
"Yes," she brushes off the question. "But in the spirit of fair play," she gestures to the window, the one in the living room, and he's not sure how he knows that but he does, "that's New York, out there. In case you were wondering."
Her mother calls again for her again, and Rose gives him an apologetic smile, and then vanishes.
John's just going to… forget that happened. And he's going to go to the pharmacy, and buy his cake, and go home. He'll think about it later, when he's got time, or maybe never. Maybe he'll never see that strange girl again, and maybe he'll never speak of this.
John does so and then catches a bus back home. He pushes open the front door, calling out, "I'm home!" True to form, there are blue and green balloons littering the ceiling of the living room, and a small pile of presents sit on the coffee table. He gives those an appreciative nod in approval as he passes, and continues on his way.
His dad pokes his head out from the kitchen, greeting him with a wave. But instead of going straight there, he makes a detour to the door next to the kitchen, where there once was a study. Now the desk and the piano have been replaced with a bed, racks of medical supplies sitting beside it. John's nanna lays down on the bed, relaxing with the bed bent up to support her. As John comes in, she presses a button and the bed props her up a little more, so that she can pay better attention to her grandson.
"John!" Nanna says happily. "Did you have an alright trip?"
"I did," John answers. "I got chocolate mousse cake for today." He pays attention to his nanna, checking over her appearance, and she looks normal, if a bit more frail.
"Oh, how lovely," she sighs. "Be a dear and go get your father, I want to help you bake it."
"...Okay, nanna!" John says, hesitating first, and then rushes out of the room and straight into the kitchen. His dad is washing his hands, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie hanging down narrowly avoiding dipping into the water. "Dad, nanna's going to help us bake this," he says. His dad looks a little uncomfortable for a moment, and then the expression is wiped off and replaced with a smile.
"That's fine, we can give her her medicine and she can stay out here with us. I'll go help her up," he nods, leaving to do that. John busies himself with laying out their ingredients. He's practically memorized the recipe, by now, and the task is a little too mindless. He keeps thinking about that girl, when he'd already decided to forget her. That plan was falling apart very quickly. He wishes that his dad would move a little faster.
It seems like an eternity of focusing much harder than he needs to on the cake preparation, but soon enough Nanna is being wheeled in by his dad, oxygen tubes in her nose and her hands shaking. John smiles at her, and continues to stir the dry ingredients together in the bowl, decidedly not thinking about how she looks a little more frail than she did yesterday, adding that to everything else he's ignoring.
Part 2: Rose
Today is also Rose Lalonde's sixteenth birthday, and it is also April 13th, 2012 where she lives in Rainbow Falls, New York. But it is just after midnight, when Rose prefers to conduct her business. This so-called business mostly consists of writing about wizards, or reading, or knitting, or the occasional violin when she thinks that she can get away with it. Her mother would prefer her not to play it while she tries to sleep, but if she is passed out enough from the liquor, how would she ever know?
Tonight Rose celebrates her birthday alone while she can, for later in the day her mother would take her on some needlessly expensive outing in an attempt to buy her satisfaction. Rose has lit precisely five candles, arranged in a circle around where she sits cross-legged on the floor, sipping at a glass of stolen rosé wine.
The night's deathly silent, the sky clear, the stars shining, the moon a perfect crescent. It's not cold, it's not hot, it's everything she could have wished for her birthday. Though, she could definitely do without the migraine threatening to split open her skull. Hence, the liquor.
She flips through an open book in front of her not paying close attention, but giving her hand something to do. There are nice pictures of intricate designs and patterns to occupy her eyes, as well, though with the dim lighting some of the details are hard to make out.
Rose glances up from the floor on an instinct she does not know the source of, and sees that she is no longer alone, miraculously enough. No, now instead of empty space in her too-big room there is a short man in a white suit with accents of green marking points of interest.
She quickly stands defensively, waiting for him to make a move so that she can retaliate, but he does not move, only stands there. She takes a breath. "...Hello?" she tentatively asks.
"Hello," the man comments neutrally, dipping his head. In this lighting Rose can't make out any details on the face, only an eerie flickering glow from the candles casting both of their faces in shadow. There's a pause, then he says, "I expect questions."
"Alright, who are you?" Rose asks, taking the bait.
"Yes, that is a good first choice. But I'm afraid that it's one I can't answer, so you'll have to pick again." She can't quite see his expression, but she gets the distinct impression that he's smiling.
She sighs, a little frustrated, feeling less like she's requesting information and more like she's playing a game, only now asking on the principal of what to do when a stranger enters your room. "Then why are you here?"
"I am here to awaken you, and to answer some of your questions. Really I shouldn't be the one doing this, but your cluster's parent is otherwise occupied. I told her that I would act as her ambassador for now."
"Sorry, what?"
"You'll have to be more specific." Now he sounds very smug, which is a word that Rose can already tell fits him very well.
Her mind hangs on the word 'awaken', first, not knowing what to make of the rest. "If I'm not mistaken I'm already awake right now, even if it might make more sense if I wasn't." She realizes that it wasn't really a question, so she thinks for another moment before sighing in defeat. "...I don't know what questions to ask, I'd suggest that you explain everything from the beginning. If you don't mind."
"I can do that," he says with a nod and another audible smile. "I'll start with that I'm not actually here. I'm only visiting, so I only exist in your head. If you look around, you can see where I am right now as well." Rose takes this advice and sees that she is standing in a room decorated with green everything, furniture, walls, floors, paintings. Yet she can also still feel the small warmth from the candles at her feet, and his face is still cast in shadow.
"I'm hallucinating," she summarizes. "And you're not real."
"Oh, I am real, I'm just not with you at the moment. I'd tell you where I am, but that would get me into quite a bit of trouble. But I am not here, and you are not there." He gestures to the green room. Rose is not sure how she can tell which place he gestured to, but she can regardless.
"This is clarifying nothing. I asked you to start from the beginning," she requests dryly.
He claps his hands together in front of him, folding down the front of his suit as well. "Alright, the beginning it is. But you'll have to humor me," he warns. Rose nods in agreement, being reasonably sure now that she knows he's not actually in her bedroom and that he doesn't pose a threat. She can afford to listen to whatever he has to say for now. "You and I are what is called Homo Sensorium. Meaning, not entirely human. We can do things other people cannot, such as what we are doing right now."
"...Right. And this would be something along the lines of psychic abilities?" Rose asks, doing as he suggested and simply humoring him. She looks around again at the green room that she can see almost as if overlayed onto her own room. Distinct, yet still existing in the same place at the same time. The room offers no further answers.
"Correct! I knew you would understand best."
She quirks her eyebrow. "As opposed to…?"
"I'll let you figure that one out on your own." He puts a finger to his lips, cementing her dislike of him. "I decided that at least one of your cluster should have some idea of what was happening, but I'll leave it up to you to tell the others. It should be fun, like a scavenger hunt. There are seven others for you to connect with."
"Cluster," Rose repeats to herself. The man nods.
"Cluster. Try talking to one of them now, reach out." he suggests. As he finishes saying this, he is suddenly and simply gone. Rose can no longer see the green room, and she gets the impression that once more she is alone, as if none of this interaction had taken place.
"Reach out…" she mutters under her breath. She doesn't have the slightest idea of how to do that. She thinks through her pounding headache that she is no longer distracted from, and runs the conversation over again in her head. Cluster, homo sensorium, parent?
She feels particularly attached to the word 'cluster.' From what she can gather, she presumes that this 'cluster' is other people who share her psychic ability. Rose decides that she would quite like to meet them.
And then she's seeing someone else in her room, but she's also in another room herself. A loud groan comes from her bed, and she gasps, seeing a boy lying facedown on her mattress. He's taller than she is, not that that's hard, but he's all legs sprawled out in skinny jeans and a red hoodie. He's got white-blonde hair just a few shades lighter than her own, but skin a few shades darker, and she thinks that he might be wearing sunglasses that are pressing into the pillow.
At her sharp gasp, the boy jerks up propping himself up onto his elbows. There's a brief moment where the two merely stare at each other with wide eyes, each waiting for the other to be bold and make the first move. Still in silence, the boy cautiously turns over and sits upright, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. It's Rose's bed, and it's an unfamiliar bed, and the red and purple bedspreads clash together quite vibrantly.
The silence ends up broken by the boy. "Who the fuck?" he asks, eloquently. Rose blinks in surprise, but if this is to be a confrontation then she will not be without the upper hand. She has the information, here, and she will use it.
"I could ask the same question," she says dryly. "You're in my bedroom, after all." The boy opens his mouth to speak, but pauses and turns his head slowly around the room. Rose follows his motions, wondering how he can see at all through the heavy sunglasses in the darkened room(s).
Finally he gives up and lets his head hang, defeated. "My head hurts too much for this." As if in sympathy, or a moment of unison, Rose's temples give a twinge of pain as well. Normally she would blame it on the rosé. She smiles at him understandingly, dropping the confrontation act for now. They're on the same page, after all. This is a lot to take in.
"Mine, too," she agrees, an act of solidarity. She moves over to her desk, where she can also see another desk made of glass rather than wood imposed over it if she concentrates. She finds that she can switch between which room she views at will, thinking of her own room and then the boy's in quick succession to test the theory. "Aspirin?" she asks, pulling the bottle out of a drawer and offering him some.
He cautiously reaches for the bottle, but instead of taking hold his hand fails to make contact, his finger going right through it. Rose is not surprised. He deadpans, defeated, "You're a goddamn ghost, huh? Always figured I would be haunted someday."
"Hmm," Rose hums, amused, and takes the pills herself with the wine. "I thought that might happen. Though, I'm not a ghost, and neither are you. My name is Rose Lalonde." She offers her hand to him, and he stares at it cautiously for a moment, both of them wondering if his hand will pass through hers like the bottle.
After a moment's hesitation he takes her hand, and it feels remarkably solid. "Dave Strider," he introduces himself. "So are you real, or not?"
Part 3: Dave
It's Dave Strider's birthday. We know this, and repeating it again would be, for lack of a better word, repetitive. Except, it technically isn't! It's still the 12th of April, 2012, an hour or two before midnight. Dave will be sixteen soon, but not now. Whether or not he celebrates it is another matter entirely, which probably won't be up to him at all.
Dave doesn't usually wear his shades indoors, not when he's alone at home, but tonight he has a pounding headache that he assumes is caused by there being too much light in the room. So, he's lying facedown on his bed with the lights off and his shades pressing into the pillow so hard that they might break. It's not helping, though. He doesn't know what else to do.
Well, that's what he was doing, until some girl appeared in his room, who may or may not have been a ghost. He asks her if she's real, or not, wanting to get some clarification in here, for the record.
Rose frowns and thinks for a moment. "I'm real," she begins, doing some probably ridiculous mental battle for his sake. Damn, it wasn't that tough of a question. She looks like she gives up a half second later, though, taking a breath. "I'm just going to tell you, because I don't know how to put this otherwise, but. We're both psychic, to my understanding. So technically we're both hallucinating," Rose says. There's a nervous edge to her voice, probably worrying that he won't believe her. Which is entirely fair, because what she just said is completely insane, and Dave doesn't really have to believe a single word. But he'll go along with it for now.
"Psychic as in…?"
"Psychic as in psychic. I'm in New York at the moment, and I assume that you are not?"
"Nah, I'm from Houston."
"Well, that's not too far away," Rose hums to herself. She takes another sip of wine, and Dave doesn't know if it's just the smell, but he feels like he can almost taste it. Not that he knows what wine tastes like in the first place.
"Are you… old enough to drink?" Dave asks hesitantly. Even though she can't be much more than 5 feet tall, she looks like she could be anywhere between 13 and 25, a fact that is not helped by the heavy and dark makeup that she wears.
"Not legally, no. I just turned sixteen if that's what you're asking. And you?" she asks in return. He glances at the clock sitting on his table, flashing 11:26. Without his shades on she's able to catch his look, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm fifteen." Dave says.
"But you'll be sixteen in less than an hour?" she asks, and Dave doesn't respond, so she can easily deduce that she's right. "I don't know why it's a secret. It's my birthday, too, I really just turned sixteen. I wonder if that has something to do with us being psychic?"
"Probably," he shrugs. He doesn't really have any other information to go off of. Then he hears a door elsewhere in the apartment loudly open and shut, and he jumps to flick on the lights. Rose watches him curiously, measuring him in a way that makes him very uncomfortable, but Dave doesn't think that Bro will be able to see her, hopefully, so that's one problem he doesn't need to worry about.
"Somebody home?" she asks.
"Yeah," Dave frowns, going back to sit on the bed and try to look casual, on his phone or something. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. "Should you… hide, or something, just in case?"
"I could," Rose nods. She moves herself so that she's not in the doorway's direct line of sight, tucking herself into the open closet door. She'll be seen if Bro looks in his closet for whatever reason, but if he just pops in and out like usual he might not notice anything. The candles littering the floor might draw some attention, though, and Dave moves to pick them up. He's not really a candle guy, he doesn't know why these ones are just hanging out in a circle on his floor. As if answering his question, Rose calls over, "Those are mine."
Dave looks over to her and stops his hand before he touches a candle, not really wanting to know if his hand would pass through them or not. "Oh, cool, that makes more sense." Now he can hear footsteps right outside of his door, so rather than pretending to be casually chilling on the bed he sits down on the ground. Much less suspicious.
The door opens and Bro enters the room, wordlessly tossing Dave a bottle, to his confusion. He examines the bottle, seeing that it's definitely beer, and looks back up at Bro in poorly hidden confusion. Bro says, "Happy birthday."
"Uh, thanks?" Dave says awkwardly, waiting on more explanation. He shoots a look to Rose, who is still there, watching with open curiosity.
"I'm taking you to the club I'm working tonight. It'll be a fun, rite of passage thing. Go wild," Bro says, his voice completely monotone. "We leave in five." With that Bro backs out and closes the door behind him.
"And he is your…" Rose says, coming out of the closet. She stares at the door Bro left from, and slowly looks back at Dave.
"My older brother. I call him Bro."
"Is that his name?"
"Maybe," he shrugs. She watches him for a moment, not knowing if he's kidding or not. Which is exactly the impression that he wanted to make, so mission accomplished.
"Well it looks like you're going out soon. Would you like me to leave?" she asks. Dave looks around at Rose's room, quiet, neat, candles and a bottle of wine. It's too quiet, too staged looking.
"It looks like you're having a real party up in New York, so if you need to get back to that I totally understand. But if you'd rather go to a club with Bro and I and have the time of your life, I'll leave the psychic link open. ...Assuming that's something we can do."
Rose looks surprised, considering his offer carefully. Dave feels thankful that his shades are on, because despite any outward appearance he's a little anxious about what she'll say. If she rejects him, of course, that would probably be awkward as hell. But if she says yes, he'll have a psychic buddy to hang out with. It wasn't like he was super jazzed about going to a club and drinking in the first place, but he might feel somewhat safer with Rose looking out for him. From his first impressions, she seems responsible, if a little fancy. And though the wine bottle's halfway empty, she seems fine, so this is a girl who can hold her liquor.
"I think I can spare to be pulled away for a few hours," she finally agrees, after what both feel like was way too long of a silence. Dave lets a hint of a smile break through, and holds up the unopened bottle.
"Cheers, then. Happy birthday to us," he says. She clinks her glass against the bottle and takes another drink, while Dave pantomimes it. He wouldn't ever tell anyone, but he's not sure how to open it. So. Hopefully pretending to drink was ironic enough for now. Regardless, he makes a face of disgust, and then surprise.
"Something wrong?" she asks, finishing her drink and putting her glass down, tilting her head at him in question.
"I think I can taste your wine," Dave says, frowning. He smacks his lips. "It's disgusting." Rose's eyes alight with interest, and she takes another sip, and Dave winces again. "Stop, that's gross. Why can I taste your wine?"
"Psychic connection?" Rose shrugs, smirking. "Good to know, for future reference, wouldn't you say?"
Dave rolls his eyes, not that she can see it, and sets the still sealed bottle he's holding carefully on his desk, and then grabs his wallet and headphones, shoving them into the pockets of his hoodie. He looks over at Rose, who's just wearing like a black silk nightgown getup, which is either very appropriate or very inappropriate for a club, depending on her goals, he guesses. But she's invisible if he's figured this out right, so it shouldn't matter what she's wearing. Probably. If only he can really see her.
"Tell me about yourself?" Rose says, sitting herself carefully on the desk while he pulls on some shoes. He glances back to her, unsure, but she seems just curious. He'd be too, and he is, because they're both psychic and that's weird as hell as even a concept.
"Born and raised in this apartment," Dave shrugs. "It's just been me and Bro as long as I can remember."
"Parents?"
"Not as far as I know," he shrugs again. It doesn't bother him. "You?"
"I live with my mother in New York. I go to a private all girls school, and I like to knit and play violin." She picks herself up and grabs the wine bottle from the floor, refilling her glass. It's unsaid that her interests also include drinking, Dave can tell that much.
Knuckles rap on the door from the outside, so their five minutes must be up. They exchange a glance, and Dave suppresses the small surge of nerves that bubble up. He hesitates but grabs the bottle he'd been thrown earlier, making another grimace at the thought of drinking it. Dave starts towards the door, and then he can taste wine again as Rose takes another sip. On the bright side, his headache is less prominent than before, so if the wine is affecting him, then maybe the medicine is too.
"Coming?" Dave asks, turning and watching Rose sit herself down on the floor, crossing her legs under herself.
"I'm unsure of how this whole visiting thing works, as of yet. I think I'll meditate, and go with you, otherwise I fear following you would have me leave my own room here and wander the house talking to no one," she explains, setting the glass carefully down next to her.
"...Okay, if you say so," he shrugs. He guesses that makes sense. Doesn't really matter too much to him. He leaves his room, looking at her once more, and when she gestures for him to continue he closes the door behind him. He walks down the hallway, and finds Rose standing in his living room in front of him. He'd be embarrassed of the mess, seeing that the futon bed serving as their couch is covered in disarrayed blankets and there are empty pizza boxes on the floor, but he figures there's no secrets between psychics. Fuck, that was a weird thought.
"So that worked," she nods to him. Dave nods back to her, imperceptible, because there is a third party in the room. They both look at Bro, who is leaning with both elbows on the counter in the kitchen conjoined to the living room. "I am reasonably sure that he can't hear me," she says with a gesture to him.
"Ready to go?" Bro asks, giving absolutely no impression that he heard her at all. He picks up a bottle opener and holds out his hand, so Dave hands him the bottle and it is opened for him. Now he's holding a bottle of beer, and he's expected to drink it.
"Yeah, Dave says, and looks down at the bottle again. Rose sees his hesitation and rolls her eyes, walking over to him abruptly and takes the bottle. She takes a drink for him, and Dave forces himself not to panic, because he has absolutely no idea what this looks like to Bro. How does she even hold the bottle?
She hands it back to him with a nod, wiping her lips with the back of a hand. "Not the best, but not the worst I've tasted." Dave knows, he can taste it, and he has to force himself not to grimace.
Bro's looking at Dave for a reaction. He's only looking at Dave, still, and his expressionless stare hasn't wavered. Dave nods to him, and he nods back, then heads for the door. He walks inches from Rose's face, apparently without seeing her. Dave meets her eyes, mouths a quick 'what the fuck' and then follows Bro, Rose falling in step beside him.
"Don't spill any in the truck, or I'll kill you," Bro warns without looking back.
Part 4: Jade
Jade Harley wakes up on her 16th birthday very excited! Would this be the day that she would experience rebirth, and finally begin her life as a Sensate? She knows that it's more common for that to happen later in life, up to her early thirties, but there's also reports of it happening as young as thirteen. So with any luck, sixteen will be the lucky birthday!
She cannot wait to meet her cluster. Jade looks up fondly at the scattering of drawings across one section of her bedroom wall, where she's sketched out ideas and theories of what they might look like. There's no way to know until she meets them, but it was always fun to think about.
As she's done on many birthdays before this, she springs out of bed and puts a lot of effort into looking her best for a hypothetical first impression. Today, she'll wear a blue top, and some simple cargo shorts that expose her very long brown legs. She's just over six feet tall, and she doesn't mind showing that off! Jade also even brushes her hair, which happens only every once in a while. It's a long, complicated process to get the knots out of hair that reaches past her waist, tending to curl and lock together all on its own.
It's about an hour later that she's ready to finally take on the day. And by take on the day, she means plant herself in a room paneled with wood, facing a wall taken up by a huge glass window overlooking the ocean. Here she can meditate in the peace and quiet, and attempt to make a connection.
Outside of the door, she's stopped by her grandfather. "Going to try again, this year?" he asks, good-naturedly. "You know it probably won't happen anytime soon, dear."
"But what if it does happen today?" Jade protests. Sometimes she wonders if he really wants her to be a Sensate at all. For all the research he does on the subject, he sure has a hard time having any faith in her. Her grandpa just laughs and ruffles his hand over the top of her head, leaving her to frantically smooth it down again. She'd just brushed it!
"Happy birthday, Jade. Let me know if today really is the day. And don't forget to start packing for Japan!"
Jade totally did not forget about their upcoming trip in the anxiety and excitement about her birthday. No, sir, she's already started! But Jade also knows that she's a very bad liar, so rather than try to convince Grandpa of this she just nods and smiles. He chuckles again and leaves her to go into the meditation room.
Today the window shows her a view of storm clouds, which she hopes isn't a bad omen or something. Waves hit the rocky beach down below with sprays of foam, but it hasn't actually started raining or anything yet. It's just overcast, which makes Jade frown. She much prefers when it's sunny out. Hopefully it will clear up by the time she's done in here? But who knows how long that will take.
Jade sits down cross legged on the floor, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She thinks about the other Sensates Grandpa has talked to, how she'd heard that they extend their awareness until they are no longer only themselves. They're a whole group of people, sharing one soul, for lack of a better word. If she 'opens her mind', then she'll be able to do it, once she's experienced her rebirth.
Nothing happens for the first few moments. But after that, a headache slams into her with the force of a train, making her fall out of her still position in shock. She winces and puts her hands on her head, pushing into her temples. It doesn't seem to help.
Through the pain she manages the coherent thought of, They said it starts with a headache. Dimly she can feel some excitement, but this is waaay more intense than she'd thought it would be! She keeps her eyes closed, suddenly even just the dim light from outside is too much. She lets out a low whine and rolls so that she's laying on her stomach.
"Miss?"
Jade groans again, and cracks open her eyes. There's a boy standing in front of her that she's never seen before. He's got dark brown hair messily sticking up in the air that matches both his skin and his eyes, and pajamas that look like they're from the American 1940's. In modern terms it could loosely be called a white romper, but it's clearly not a romper. Jade knows, that's a large part of her wardrobe. He's not wearing any socks or shoes, and his pajamas only reach about the mid-thigh, so he's exposing a ton of tanned leg, enough that Jade can tell that he runs a lot.
"Miss?" he repeats. Jade slowly sits up. He's leaning over her with concern, squinting his eyes like Jade does when she's not wearing her glasses.
"Oh!" Jade says, recognition lighting up in her eyes. "Hello! My name's Jade!" She stands up and sways a bit, then once she's steady she holds out her hand, doing her very best to smile and be cheerful through the pain.
The boy hesitates for a second, but takes her hand. He seems to silently debate something in his head before saying, "English. Jake English." Jade lets out a snort, then covers her mouth.
"Nice to meet you, Jake, where are you from?"
"Um," Jake says, looking around. "I thought I was in New Zealand, but this does not appear to be that." She decides that she likes his accent. It's like if he were trying to do an English accent, but not a very good one. But maybe that's what all New Zealanders sound like? That's a place she hasn't gotten to visit, yet, in her world travels.
"Yeah, welcome to Indonesia, fellow islander!"
Jakes eyes alight with interest. "Indonesia, you say? I've always wanted to visit. Which island is this?" He moves to the window to look outside at the storm clouds and gently rolling waves on the rocks.
"Lombok. I live here with my grandpa, in this research facility." Jade gestures around the room, and the larger building as a whole. "We research science, physics mostly. Some other stuff too."
Jake nods thoughtfully, looking around. "Alright, that's nice. I like science, too. But if you don't mind me asking… What's going on? Why am I in Indonesia? Who are you?" He says this with a forced casualty, like he's trying to stay calm but Jade can tell that he's bordering on panic inside. She winces, realizing she probably should have started with that.
"It's complicated," she begins. Jake watches her expectantly. She glances at the door, and says, "Alright, come with me, and I'll try to explain. Okay?" Jake nods, and some of his nervousness is showing now in more obvious ways, like the way his eyes and his feet have started shifting around while his hands fidget with the buttons on his shirt. But he doesn't look scared, just nervous, so that's good. Nerves are understandable.
Jade leads Jake out of the room, and into the hallway where the floors are tile and the walls are white and completely bare save for labels outside of each room. Jade has a short debate in her head on how to break the news gently, because even though she grew up with all of this knowledge she can see how it would be a lot for someone who's never heard of Sensates. But honesty is the best policy, and Jake seems like a tough guy, he can probably handle it.
"You and I have psychic powers," she says with cheer, being careful to convey that it's not a huge deal. "We're what's called Sensates, so our minds are linked together. It's like being one person with lots of different bodies, in a way." Jake nods along with her words, not saying anything, but his eyes are glazed over so Jade knows that he's not really understanding anything she's saying. But that's okay, he'll figure it out eventually!
"Is it only us?" He asks, being a good sport and not arguing with her. Even if he doesn't believe her it looks like he's willing to play along for now, so that's great! Jade hopes it'll be this easy with everyone, because she's still most likely the only one to have previous knowledge of Sensates.
"No, we're part of a cluster. I'm not sure how many of us there are, actually. We'll just have to meet them and find out. I guess technically it could just be us, clusters are typically anywhere from two to twelve members. I hope not, though."
"How do you know all of this?" Jake asks, impressed. "I've never even heard of this Senate business before."
"It's Sensate, first of all, and second, it's something we study at this lab. Once you know we exist and all that it's easy to tell if a kid is a Sensate. So I've known for a super long time and I've been waiting every birthday for my rebirth." She tosses over her shoulder, "Happy birthday, by the way!"
She sees Jake's stopped in the middle of the hallway, his eyes closed while he runs his temples. Jade is sympathetic, her migraine hasn't dimmed at all yet either. She waits patiently for him, rocking back and forth on her heels with her hands behind her back.
Finally Jake opens his eyes and levels a hand at her. "That was a lot of terms. Please understand, I only just woke up here. If we could slow down I'd much appreciate it."
Jade's a little disappointed, having hoped that Jake was like-minded enough to keep up with the fast pace so that she could get into the neat science of it all. She's led him down the hallway to the Sensate research lab, but she thinks now she won't take him in there. That might be too overwhelming.
"Oh, yeah, of course," she says. He lets out a relieved sigh. Next to Jade, the door opens, making both her and Jake jump a little. Jade's grandpa steps out with his mug of coffee in hand, looking surprised to see her. He catches her quick look at Jake, and his eyebrows shoot up.
"Today?" Grandpa asks, shocked, looking in Jake's vague direction.
"Um, hello, sir," Jake says, self consciously glancing down at what he's wearing. Jade giggles, making him look at her in offense.
"He can't see or hear you," She explains to him. To her grandpa, she says, "This is Jake, he's in my cluster. Today was the day!"
Part 5: Jane
It's Jane Crocker's 16th birthday. She's one year closer to inheriting her grandmother's company, according to what she'd always been told, before she'd had a contender for the title.
Said contender is enthusiastically waving at Jane from the sidewalk, dropping her luggage on the ground to do so. Jane smiles back, pointing her out to her driver, who nods and maneuvers the car close enough for the girl to get in.
Jane gets out of the car and is met with a bone crushing hug, which she returns with a careful pat on the back. "Hi, Feferi, how are you?" Jane asks.
"I'm great!" Feferi takes a step back, her long braids swinging out behind her. She peers around Jane to look in the car, but finds it empty. "Where's Mom?"
Jane makes a sour face. "Busy. I'm here to pick you up instead. Shall we?" She beckons for Feferi to get into the car, while the driver puts her luggage into the trunk. They get settled in while he finishes, cool drinks available in multiple flavors. Feferi goes for the sparkling water like Jane knew she would, but Jane wouldn't touch the stuff herself. She'll settle for regular water, which would probably also help with her headache a bit.
She looks over and sees Feferi staring at her with her large eyes, grinning. Jane rises an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Feferi takes this as her cue to jump at her and latch onto Jane's arm, shaking her and exclaiming, "Happy birthday!"
"Oh, thank you," Jane says, gently dislodging her arm. "Sweet sixteen?" She says, almost as a question. It wouldn't be a big deal, but maybe it was to Feferi. This guess is proven correct as she gives Jane a big grin and then relaxes back into her seat while she taps loose rhythms on her legs to channel her excessive energy.
"Sooooo…" Feferi leads, sipping her bubbly water. "Anything… Different? Today?" Jane sighs. This, again. "Any, let's see… Headaches? If I remember right, that's the first sign!"
"My current headache is completely unrelated to your nonsense, Feferi," Jane says, rubbing her temple with her free hand. The girl pouts, which is just overdramatic for an almost-legal adult, especially an heiress.
"But are you sure?" she asks. "I got mine when I was thirteen, and I know that was super early, but I feel like it should've happened by now!"
"I don't think so."
Feferi pouts again, her frown deepening as she crosses her arms and slouches. "You still don't believe me, do you? Well, I hope your headache does mean it's happening, so I can say I told you so." Jane rolls her eyes at her step-sister, drinking more water.
"We'll see," she says politely. "But forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical that we've both got magic powers, somehow. Isn't it a bit coincidental that it would be the two of us, though? Can you at least admit that?"
"I get it from Mom, and I don't know, maybe it was fate or something that she married your dad. But I'm pretty sure you're a Sensate, too."
"Fef, I don't think so." Jane's migraine spikes and she puts a hand to her head, wincing and muttering under her breath. "Ugh." Feferi watches her with one raised eyebrow, as if this somehow impossibly proves her right. Jane pointedly ignores her, avoiding eye contact and staring out the window in the other direction for the majority of the rest of the drive.
"...Speaking of Mom," Feferi says sometime later. "Is she still mad?" Jane gives her an unimpressed look, while Feferi quickly lowers her eyes and amends her statement. "Well, she probably is, I know. But has she at least cooled off a little?"
"She's still mad," Jane says simply, her face cold. "...Lots of people are still mad. They still think that I tried to have you killed."
Feferi just hums in disappointment, turning to direct her attention out the window. Traffic is heavy downtown, especially the route from the airport. There are cars lining the streets on Osaka, Japan, and their limousine slows to a crawl. The sidewalks are bustling with tourists, as it is about three in the afternoon on a Friday and packs of teenagers in school uniforms wander around looking for food. Jane anxiously taps her fingers on her knee, enjoying the texture of the silk skirt but wishing that it was easier to talk to her step-sister. It used to be, once they'd gotten used to each other, but that had taken a bit of time. And not long after that Feferi had run away to Argentina, of all places, and just… gone missing. For several months. That had been just delightful for Jane.
Jane watches Feferi and heaves a sigh, willing her fingers to stop their tapping. Feferi was different in odd little ways, ever since then. When she had first returned home, she'd been full of fire, lashing out at her mother and to a lesser extent Jane. But the next time she'd seen Feferi, she was calmer, ready to smile and simper for the cameras again and explain the whole incident away as a simple act of teenage rebellion. Jane bought none of it.
"Are you thinking about university?" Jane asks, uncomfortable. Feferi turns and raises one eyebrow.
"I don't really think I have much of a choice," she says, offering a smile in good humor but it doesn't reach her eyes. Jane closes her own eyes for a second, berating herself for the stupid question. "I'll be eighteen soon. I'll have to do something, don't you think?"
Jane doesn't like to think about her turning eighteen. In fact, she'd been dreading it for the past four years. "Yeah. It's not like I haven't been signed up for business school already."
Feferi shrugs. "I'm sure Mom would love for me to go to business school. Don't think it'll happen, though. I don't have the knack like you do, Jane."
Jane knows this. The entire world knows this. There are subreddits dedicated to the subject, actually. It's a well-known fact that Jane has been trained to own a business practically from birth, and Feferi has too, but she had no love for it. Mom didn't really approve of her humanitarian leanings, either. She has to change the subject. "Well! Nevermind, then, have you seen the trailer for the new Avengers movie?" It seemed innocuous enough.
"I have," Feferi says, not terribly enthusiastic, but at least on board for changing the conversation. "I hope it's good!"
She's trying. They both are. "It should be," Jane says, shrugging. It's clear that neither of them really care.
They drift off into silence again. It'll never be like it was again, it can't be. They've been demoted from sisters back into merely step-sisters. Family only by circumstance, by outside forces. Jane can't decide if they can even be friends anymore, which makes her heart twinge in disappointment. She looks over at Feferi, avoiding her gaze once more, and sighs.
When they arrive home, after the long, silent elevator ride to the penthouse, the girls' mother is sitting in the foyer waiting for them. She stands up and rushes over to Feferi, sweeping her into an quick, tight embrace before doing the same to Jane. She then takes a few steps back and examines them, putting a finger to her lips in concentration. Jane straightens and darts a glance to Feferi, measuring her chances of winning this little onceover.
Finally their mutual mother nods, breaking out into a grin. "It's so good to have my girls back here with me! Jane, could you give me a moment with Fef?"
"Of course," Jane nods agreeably, reaching for Feferi's suitcase. "I can go put this in her room-"
"Leave it!" Mom snaps, and Jane flinches her hand back. If her step-mother's terrifying in a good mood, she's absolutely horrendous in a bad one. But she smiles again, "Thank you, dear." Then she waves her hand to shoo Jane from the room.
Jane ducks her head and leaves while Mom puts a hand on Feferi's shoulder and guides her to the little armchairs on either side of a circular coffee table. She represses a shudder, she's not jealous of Feferi at the moment. But somehow, Feferi looks calm, even in the face of what must be some kind of lecture. Jane knows she'd be panicking, just a bit, on the inside. Feferi looks perfectly calm.
So Jane frowns, and decides to eavesdrop just a little bit, because something's strange. Mom's back is to her, and she tells Feferi, "Go ahead and get out the device." Feferi opens her suitcase and pulls out a small golden metal tiara, the one she'd gotten on her sixteenth birthday. It's supposed to be the latest and greatest technology from Skaianet, but it's a bit vague on what it actually does.
Feferi places it on her head, resting it just above her eyes, and Mom puts on an identical one. Feferi's eyes snap closed, and both her and Mom go stock still, and sit in absolute silence.
"That's fuckin' weird," a deadpan voice Jane doesn't recognize says. She jumps nearly a foot in the air, and before she can check if her mother heard her she darts several steps down the hallway, out of her line of vision. Only then does she turn to see who spoke.
She turns, and has to look up. There's a boy nearly a foot taller than her staring at her from behind strange pointed sunglasses. He's got blond hair slicked back, and skin paler than her own. But he's definitely not from around there, he's got strong features that indicate somewhere European, most likely one of the more northern countries. Jane immediately narrows her eyes at him, while he seems content to just look around in silence, expressionless. She grabs his arm and pulls him further down the hallway, and into the first open door.
She looks around the room cautiously, and notices he does the same, and seeing that they are alone in the butler's pantry off the kitchen, Jane quickly slides the door shut. "How did you get in here? What are you doing? What do you want? Who are you?" she interrogates.
"Why don't you tell me, Crocker?" The boy asks. Jane isn't surprised that he knows who she is, as most people do. Her face is very recognizable. He won't throw her off.
"You're in my home," she points out. One eyebrow raises from behind his sunglasses.
"...True."
"So you should be answering my questions," Jane says after a pause, frustrated. She hears a noise from the other side of the door, and goes quiet, moving to press her ear against the door. She doesn't hear any more noise, deciding the coast is clear, so she turns back to send another glare at the stranger.
But Jane spins around in a circle, eyes wide in disbelief, when she realizes he's gone.
Part 6: Jake
When Jake English woke up today, the 13th of April, 2012, the day of his sixteenth birthday, he expected something to happen. It was supposed to be a birthday which, according to nearly every movie he'd seen, heralded the reveal of latent magical properties or better yet, the start of some grand adventure!
But he hadn't felt different. He'd tested himself, staring intently at the ceiling willing lazer beams to shoot out of his eyes, or to see to the floor up above with some x-ray vision, but, alas. Nothing except for this blasted migraine threatening to detonate his mind from the inside out. It would have been a nice change, is all he's saying, but he guesses the psychic thing is alright too.
All day one Jade Harley has been popping in and out of his mind, chattering on about the science of being a Sensate, as she'd called it, and confusing Jake while also distracting him from the important work he's doing! It's not always Jade, but she's the only one who normally sticks around for a chat. The others tend to blink in and out more, looking just as confused and lost as he does.
But since bright and early at seven AM that morning, Jake has been sitting in his gran's old office. There's been phone calls upon phone calls and he's barely had any time to breathe, but he's gotten in some decent work today, between all the interruptions, that is. He hears a noise and almost doesn't want to look up from the email he's writing to see who it is this time.
Heels clack on the tile floor and he has to look. There's a girl just a touch shorter than him standing with a stiff back and her hands folded behind herself, staring at the portrait of Judy English that stands imposingly taking up the wall. The girl is wearing a blue pantsuit, with exaggerated shoulders and an air of professionalism that looks frankly misplaced on her, she couldn't have been older than Jake himself. But he supposes she could say the same about him. So he won't say anything at all about it.
"This is the English Wildlife Preserve's founder, is it not?" the girl asks, darting just a brief glance his direction. "And that would make you…?"
"Jake English, in the flesh," Jake says, putting his elbows on the desk in front of him and folding his hands.
"The one from the posters, yes of course," she says, and he can see a hint of a smile on her face. Jake groans and puts his face into his hands, blushing. Those posters could be a little, erm, voyeuristic, to put it plainly. Anything in the name of wildlife conservation, even at the expense of being called the world's sweetheart. It's only gotten worse as he's gotten older. He doesn't mind the modeling, he really doesn't, but the knowing smirks he gets in every interview and public appearance really puts it into perspective.
"Yes, that would be me," his voice is muffled a bit. She seems to hear him just fine. She turns in a slow circle, taking in the room, and her silence is a bit unnerving. "Well, now you have me at a disadvantage! Who might you be?"
She looks a bit surprised at the question, finally turning to face him fully. "Oh, of course, silly me. Jane Crocker, pleasure to meet you. Have you been briefed on the, um, situation?"
"In bits and pieces, I'm afraid, but I've gotten the gist I think," Jake says, and she comes close enough to shake his hand, leaning against the desk. Jane hums in response, but now he's got more important questions. "And you're the Jane Crocker, then?" He can't put his finger on it, but she seems at the same time more and less, well, human, than he'd seen. She had the sweet persona, fitting of the baking empire she was to inherit, but there was always a striking intelligence in her eyes, which had led to many conspiracy theories on the internet. Jake had found some of those while looking into what people were saying about the preservation company, just seeing if anyone had anything interesting to say about him, or more importantly, his gran.
"Yep! Not what you expected?" she asks, laughing. "The media really doesn't do either of us justice, does it?" He shakes his head, glad there's someone to laugh about it with. "What a coincidence that we share a connection like this."
"Have you figured out what it is, exactly, yet?" Jake asks. Jade had not been the best suited teacher, telling him all of the scientific details and none of the practical details. He couldn't really make heads or tails of the whole thing, truth be told.
Jane makes a pained face. "Well, it turns out that my stepsister hasn't been pulling my leg this entire time, and she has this ability too. I've never believed her about her Sensate ideas, but now I suppose that she may have been telling the truth. So I'll have to go through that conversation at some point. But after that's out of the way I'm sure she can answer any questions we might have."
"A smashing good resource, then," he laughs. "And we've got Jade and her grandfather as well, maybe some of the others know more. I don't think I've met the lot yet."
Jane shrugs. "I haven't met any Jade, just some weird blonde guy and now you. I keep thinking I see others, though."
"Me too!" Jake says, standing from his chair to circle to the front of the desk. He leans against it next to Jane, finding her company unexpectedly pleasant for the heiress of such vast and intimidating corporations as both CrockerCorp and Skaianet. "It's been a right bother if I can say so, I've got lots to do today and work waits for no one, especially when it's wildlife in trouble, that's what gran always said- says," he nods to the portrait.
"So much to do," she sighs in agreement. "Though, where is your grandmother? I would expect her to be running things." Her finger trails over the name placard, reading Jake English rather than Judy like most people expect. The office is clearly the head of operations, he can't fault her on that logic. It's got all the official documents neatly organized in a file cabinet to the side, and all the awards and certificates lining the wall around Gran's picture. She looks fantastic in it, full of an energy and enthusiasm that Jake finds it difficult to conjure up some days.
But Jane's question puts him on the defensive. "While it's not really any of your business, especially as a potential competitor, if you must know- She's taken ill. I'm in training to someday take her place, so I work in the office in her stead."
She just nods thoughtfully, looking at the portrait with piercing and pale blue eyes. Jake gets the split-second nasty thought to ask her about her family, if she knows who is inheriting the title of baroness yet. He doesn't lack the ability to censor himself, however, and he has to hold off on that urge for the sake of good relations. He'll have to be a tad more careful around her, in any case. His gran wouldn't have wanted him to be spilling any company secrets. She wouldn't have wanted him to be doing a lot of the things he's been doing lately, truthfully.
With the lull in the conversation Jake decides to tune in a bit to where Jane happens to be at the moment. He'd learned that trick from Jade, who had done her best to give him a Sensate crash course as fast as she could, with mixed results. He got the gist. Regardless, Jane is sat on an outdoor patio overlooking a huge cityscape, and pulling from his limited knowledge on the heiress, he guesses it's in Japan. Not Tokyo, but another major city that he can't quite remember the name of. The patio has pool chairs and potted plants, and behind her Jake can see into a lavishly decorated penthouse. Emblazoned onto the building beside them is the giant red spoon of CrockerCorp.
"Admiring the view?" Jane asks, one eyebrow raised good-naturedly.
"It's grand, a real sight to see," he nods. "That's been the most fun about these shenanigans, seeing all the exciting exotic locals so far. Indonesia's apparently beautiful this time of year."
Jane's phone beeps and she looks down in surprise, then her face falls and she sighs. "My stepmother has summoned me," she says, tilting the phone so that he can see. The words are in a pink, glittery font and Jake doesn't even know how that's possible on Pesterchum, or even that adults knew how to use that app. It reads, 'hey gurl, gotchu a birthday present downstairs come and get it'.
He doesn't know how he expected the pseudo-leader of the free world to talk, but this throws him for a loop. "I- that's her? The condescension?"
"Please, she hates that nickname," Jane says, but winks, so he knows to call her that as much as possible, especially around Jane. "Yes, that is my dear stepmother. I wonder if it'll be a tiaratop, like she got Feferi for her sweet sixteen. Hopefully she won't make as big of a deal of it this year," she sighs again.
As she speaks, loud music starts up from somewhere underneath them, a bass booming and vibrating the entire balcony and making both of them startle. Jake doesn't know the tune, but it sounds distinctly American, a bit out of place across the pond in Japan. Today has been rife with the unexpected, and while it may not be laserbeams, he certainly can't complain that it's not exciting!
Jane gets up to leave and Jake begins to follow, but she turns to him with a sharp look in her eye. "I can't risk giving away company secrets, even unintentionally. A pleasure to meet you, Jake, but goodbye."
He starts to stammer out a goodbye, but one blink and he's right back in Gran's old office, alone again. Well, not alone, at least three phones are ringing and he has a new flood of emails to attend to. But in terms of human contact, he's on his own. Well, if there's one thing Jake English can handle just fine, it's that! He heaves a sigh, and looks at the clock, only another hour or so until he can collapse into bed once more, just to start all over again in the morning.
Part 7: Roxy
Roxanne preferred to be called Roxy, and it was her sixteenth birthday was well. Her day was going… Well, it was sure going! If the empty glass beside her is any indication, that is. Correction: multiple empty glasses, in various shapes and sizes, some old, some new. Roxy hauls her head upright, looking with squinted eyes at the alarm going off on her desk. It's eight AM, and if she wants to get to class, she needs to be out the door within the hour.
And yeah, no, not today. That is not going to be a thing that happens today. She lets her head fall back down into the fluff of the pillow, letting out a groan. She's been hungover before, and she can remember those times all too vividly, but it's soooo much worse today, and her head feels like it's going to explode. Like, she wouldn't be surprised at all if it really did. Not even a little bit. She cracks open one eyelid and tries to focus her eye enough to look around.
Okay there's not that many discarded bottles. Most of them are old, and from what Roxy can tell, she didn't drink much more last night than normal, and she knows this because she set a limit! If she'd blown her entire stock last night, she wouldn't have any for her actual birthday party! She should be waking up feeling better than normal. So what gives?
Irritated, now, she pushes herself upright to sit with her hands braced underneath her, frowning heavily down at the bed. She feels more unsteady than she thought she would. She carefully untucks her legs and pushes herself out of bed, holding out her arms to steady herself, and makes her way to the sink. She's long since started keeping the painkillers in immediate access with the water bottles by the sink. Because y'know, hydration is key.
The painkiller gods have decided not to take pity upon her today, unfortunately. She sets the bottle of water down and holds her arms up, looking to the ceiling.
"Whyyyyy," she asks in a whine, beseeching these supposed gods. They don't answer. "Fine. Be like that," Roxy mutters. She unsteadily goes back to her bed, and checks her phone, seeing that Sabrine can't come to her party. Neither can Meline, or Naomie, or Lorelei, or Isabelle. So nearly everybody. There are, however, an enthusiastic couple of texts from Calliope, who Roxy knew she could always count on.
She texts Calliope saying that it'll probably be just the two of them, that night, and that's just the right number, nobody gets to hog the drinks or be annoying. Just Roxy doing all that. Which Calliope will have to deal with by herself, but Roxy wants to focus on the positives!
But if Calliope's coming over today, then she should probably clean up the bottles. Probably. That would in theory make the most sense. At some point apparently she leaned over on to the bed, and then she sat down. Roxy doesn't really remember doing that, but her memory's spotty at best anyways, always has been. Sometimes she imagines her brain with holes like swiss cheese, if she feels like laughing in a sad, self-deprecating sort of way.
Well now that she's sitting, does she really want to get up again? Does she want the world to rock around her some more, when sitting down she feels balanced again? ...No, the world's still tilting a little bit regardless, like when she leans to her right the rest of her body follows a half-second behind. Not completely sober yet, then. And if the world's going to spin anyways, she might as well get some cleaning done.
A half-hour later, her room is tidy (tidy-er) and there's a knock on the door. Roxy nearly trips over her feet in her haste to answer it, and throws it open with enough force that she has to catch herself while her socks slide across the stone floor. She's slid face first into the door a few times. It's a legitimate concern.
There wasn't anyone it could have been but Calliope. Roxy won't delusion herself with those kinds of thoughts. Callie looks startled, but that's her default setting. "Roxy!" she says. "Happy birthday!"
"Thank you," Roxy dips her head, grinning, and gestures for her to come in. She's well put together in her uniform already, her cropped white hair held back unnecessarily in a bright lime headband, one of the only bits of flare in the drab uniform. She had a couple pins in her jacket, which Roxy always thinks is a nice touch. Meanwhile, Roxy has one stocking pulled up and one only halfway onto her foot, and no jacket.
"Are you not going to class today?" Callie asks, worried, taking in her appearance. Her French isn't perfect, but Roxy can't really expect it to be when she didn't grow up here. Roxy herself has a bit of a blend of accents, from living in various places around France over the years. No perfect Parisian, nor does she sound born-and-raised in Marseille like most of the girls here. "Can your marks afford to drop more?"
"What are you talking about, Callie? I've got perfect marks across the board. I'm best in my class," Roxy protests, rolling her eyes. She doesn't know if Callie believes her or not, but even if she takes it as sarcastic, it's a good joke and a good answer. Even though it's one hundred percent true. She couldn't afford for it not to be, her scholarships would fall through.
"Oh," Callie says, clearly still concerned. She casts a searching eye around the dorm room, and Roxy's so glad she decided to clean up. She portrays herself as the picture of innocence, clasping her hands behind her back and standing straighter. Callie doesn't comment on it, and that quite indulgence is why Roxy loves her. "Well, then why aren't you going?"
"It's just not in the stars today! I deserve to have my birthday off," Roxy shrugs, spinning on her heel to swipe up her phone again. "What brings you here to my fine-ass abode today?"
Callie holds up a finger and swings her bag off of her shoulder, rummaging through it. Finally she pulls out a folded piece of paper, handing it over to Roxy while pointedly not looking at her. If she's not mistaken, Callie is blushing, which was adorable and definitely a good omen.
Roxy unfolds the paper to find a brightly colored drawing of herself, looking happy and with a light in her eyes that she can't really find in her real life, and she's wearing a shiny silver dress in a 40's movie Marilyn Monroe style, even though they've had the discussion and Callie's never seen any of her movies. It's a lot, and Callie clearly put a lot of effort into making sure Roxy likes it. She gets a little choked up and tears spring into her eyes as she smiles widely, but she quickly forces those to go back where they belong. Instead she pulls Callie into a tight hug for maybe just a touch too long.
"Thank you so much omg!" Roxy exclaims, pronouncing the letters of the acronym individually, pulling back to hold Callie at arm's length while she beams at her.
"You really like it?" Callie asks nervously, her face still red. "I was worried I got it wrong, does she look like you enough?"
She re-examines the drawing, and notices what she's talking about. Drawing-Roxy has more curves than she'd ever hope to get in real life, and she looks more… Rounded, with less angles to her, elbows and knees not as bony, cheeks contouring in a distinctly feminine style. That might have just been Callie's art style, all rounded edges, but to Roxy it didn't even register as different. This drawing, toe to tip, was a bonafide Roxy.
"Of course! I promise it's perfect," Roxy says, going to her desk and rummaging until she finds some pins. She puts it onto the corkboard on the wall, pinning it into place so that she can stare at it for the next several months, at least until they kick her out of the dorm. She turns back to Callie. "She does look a bit too sober, though," she jokes.
"Oh, well," Callie stutters, flustered. Roxy laughs.
"Nonono, it's good! Just messing with you!"
"...Is everyone going to be an alcoholic?" a voice says, and Roxy actually jumps a foot or so back, in a chain reaction causing Callie to startle, too. Roxy hits her hip on the desk, hard enough to definitely leave a bruise.
She spins around to find a whole-ass person standing behind her where there definitely was no person there before. It's a boy, with hair even lighter blonde than her hand-bleached locks, and a good couple inches shorter. He looks exhausted, but stares around the room in confusion.
"Ex-fucking-scuse me?" Roxy asks, and Callie sends her a sharp look, glancing at the new boy for only a second.
"Roxy?" Callie asks hesitantly.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," the boy says in a deadpan. "She can't see me, by the way. Not to freak you out or anything." He takes a hand out of his hoodie pocket and gestures to Callie.
"You're too late! I'm freaked out!" Roxy exclaims, taking a few steps closer to him. She doesn't miss when he takes a defensive half-step backward, and then tries to play it off like he didn't. "There's no possible way for you to be in my room right now."
"Actually, you're in my room," the boy says, nodding at something to his right. Roxy furrows her brows and looks in that direction, seeing a shelf of vinyl records that do not belong to her. They're set up against a darker beige-colored wall, nothing like the plaster white of her dorm. Yeah, that's not her room! But she looks back and can still see Callie, who is staring at her with a confused, slightly frightened expression.
"Mmhmm. Okay," Roxy says. She rubs the bruise on her hip that's already making itself known. "Callie, there is an invisible boy here that apparently only I can see," she says, not taking her eyes off him, but figuring her friend needs to know.
"My name is Dave," he says, holding out a hand.
"...Roxy? Are you… okay?" Callie asks while Roxy frowns at his hand. She takes it, moving her gaze up to his face.
"Roxy then?" Dave asks. She gives up and shakes his hand, nodding while her brain gets to calculating exactly what the fuck could be going on.
"I'm great. This is a great birthday, so far," she says, dropping his hand and tossing her voice over to Callie. "You're going to be late to class, you should probably go while I figure… this," she nods to Dave, "out."
"I don't know if you should be alone?" Callie says with a questioning uplift of her voice. "If you're hallucinating?"
"Mm-mm. Not hallucinating, I know what that feels like," she says, still not looking away. She worries that if she does look away, he'd vanish. But this only serves to alarm Callie more. "His name is Dave."
"You can tell her I say hello," Dave says, and he's obviously trying to hide it, but there's the slightest smirk going on in the corner of his mouth that Roxy does not appreciate.
Roxy rolls her eyes at him over-dramatically, and says to Callie, "He says hi. Promise I'm not hallucinating. I'll text you?" She shakes her phone in her hand. Callie still looks doubtful, so Roxy says, "Listen, worse case scenario I am hallucinating, best case is I have, like, superpowers. Or he does. Idk."
Dave puts a finger to his nose. "Ding ding, superpowers, you guessed it. We've both got 'em."
"Okay, superpowers," Roxy nods, reassuring Callie best she can. "Promise it's all good here! Promise," she says, as earnestly as she can possibly be. "You're gonna be late to class if you stay here any longer!"
Callie stares at Roxy for another few moments, occasionally squinting in the direction she assumed Dave would be, and he gives her a wave that she can't see. Finally Callie sighs with a relenting huff, and hoists her bag back onto her shoulder. Roxy swoops in to hug her and kiss her cheeks, which she reluctantly accepts, still in disagreement. But finally Callie leaves the dorm.
Dave clears his throat. "So, is that your girlfriend, or-"
Roxy throws a pillow at him, definitely not embarrassed. "Who are you!"
Part 8: Dirk
Dirk is having a really weird sixteenth birthday. He doesn't celebrate the occasion, never had a reason to, but the only reason he takes note of it at all is because things have gotten a little strange.
He keeps seeing people who aren't really there, out of the corner of his eye. They'll appear and disappear in little flashes, never enough to get a solid look at them, and that definitely counts as "odd" in his book. He's been counting, though, and he's seen about ten different flashes by now. A couple of them have appeared more than once, but he couldn't say which ones. There seems to be no visible link between any of them, and he's certainly never seen any of them before in his life. The whole ordeal is just turning out to be very tedious for his liking. He's got bigger, more important irons in the fire to handle today.
He's being followed by someone much more substantial than these flashes of people, and so they aren't helping with his paranoia even a little bit. He hasn't managed to get a good profile on his pursuer yet, either, not with all the unnecessary distractions. All he can tell is that they're good, whoever they are. Might be time to make a final stand of some kind.
Dirk ducks down a side street that opens up into a square, a small one, secluded from the open streets of Bremen. It's about five A.M., so the light's barely just beginning to seep through the spaces between buildings, and it's still pretty far away from morning to justify wearing his shades. He lowers them to do a quick mental sweep of the area, make sure there's nobody around, and then takes a running start at the lowest set building to his right. He propels his feet onto the vertical surface and jumps up high enough to get a grip on a windowsill above, hauling himself higher and jumping up handholds and pushing himself up with his feet wherever he can find purchase.
Finally he drags himself up onto a balcony a floor or two up, where the sliding glass doors are covered by a thick curtain and it looks like the inside is vacant. More importantly though there's a pillar on the corner, and Dirk shelters himself behind it while his pursuer down below enters the plaza. He peeks his head around the corner and sees them standing in the center, moving in a slow circle taking in everything it has to offer.
The figure is a woman, wearing a smart suit with a trilby hat, and she's pretty observant from what he can tell, seems to have a critical eye. Her gaze wanders a bit too close to where Dirk's concealed himself, and he has to duck his head back into cover before she can spot him. He can't see her, now, but he can see her vague shape in the reflection of the glass in front of him. She's still turning in a slow circle, nearly completing her rotation.
She stops, pauses a second, and then calls out, "I know you're around." Dirk doesn't respond. Obviously. "Listen, I just want to help you. I think that you can turn your life around. We can find you a safe place to stay, and you can start over. Doesn't that sound nice?"
She has no idea who Dirk is, that much is clear. He remains silent, and still, waiting to see if she'll continue.
"My name is detective Peregrine. Your parents are worried about you!"
That's the most bullshit Dirk has ever heard, and he has to hold back a reaction, which is probably what she wants anyway.
She sighs in clear frustration. "Listen kid, I know you're up there. It's the only place to go." Dirk can see in the reflection that she's still facing him. "Just come down here and we can talk, or I can keep trailing you all day if I've gotta."
Dirk rolls his eyes behind his shades. Yeah, and he can keep evading her all day. Or, well. He might have been able to if these stupid hallucinations would stop harassing him. One pops up right in front of his face, and he's only human, he flinches back and thumps against the pillar. He manages to do so silently, but the balcony rattles on its hinges with the sudden movement.
The hallucination in front of him is a boy with messy dark hair, freckles, and ridiculous square glasses taking up half of his face. He looks as surprised as Dirk feels, but he shows it a hell of a lot more on his face.
"Oh my gosh it worked," the boy says, breathless and starting to grin. Dirk flashes a glance over his shoulder into the plaza, and motherfucker she's gone. He twists around. looking to where she might have gone, completely ignoring the hallucination for now. How does he know its a hallucination? Simple. Nobody sneaks up on Dirk. Boy appeared out of thin air. Therefore, not real.
Dirk swings one-handed over the railing, falling into a roll on the ground. For a second he thinks that he lands on grass, instead of cobblestone, but he ignores that feeling for now. He flashes to his feet and looks around, seeing the boy still up on the balcony, hands leaning on the railing, eyes wide. "That was super cool!" he says, excited.
His attention is more on the gun a few feet from his chest. Detective whats-her-name has it trained on him from where she stands directly under the balcony, giving a small smile of remorse. Dirk doesn't move, doesn't put his hands up, doesn't say anything. Just watches, waits for her to make her move.
"Is this really the only way you'll hear me out?" she chuckles, nonchalantly. "Listen. This path you're going down? You've got to stop, before it's too late. You've got your whole life ahead of you, kid!"
She sure does ask him to listen a lot. It's not like he isn't hearing what she was saying. She just has no idea what she's talking about.
"I can help you, but you've got to talk to me first!" she says, getting annoyed now. "Believe me, I'm not here to get you in trouble. I really do want to help you. I've got a kid your age, I can't imagine her living out here on the streets."
"I don't care," Dirk finally says, face passive at best. He takes a slight step forward, testing. The detective holds her ground, not wavering, but he can still say with about 89% certainty that she won't shoot him.
"There are people who do!" she says. Dirk's past caring, now. He takes another step forward, and Peregrine doesn't move, sees that the gun safety's still on, and then quick as a flash Dirk darts forward and shoves his palm under it, pointing it skyward, and knocking it up into the air. He swings a foot up to about shoulder height and kicks it, sending it spinning across the plaza. Then he ducks under the detective's outstretched arms and now he's running. She calls after him, "Goddamnit! Come back here!"
Like hell he'd do that. Dirk keeps running, ducking into side streets and alleyways, until he finds a fire escape and runs up the wall again to get a hold on the first platform and sprint the rest of the way to the roof. He crouches down at the top, peeking over the side, and a minute or so later the detective runs by, looking around out of breath, and then keeps going right past him. Dirk lets himself breathe again.
"So you're some kind of badass, huh?"
God give him mercy it's the hallucination boy again. "Would you shut up?" Dirk asks, politely, through gritted teeth. The boy blinks, surprised, and then looks almost hurt. "Don't need hallucinations on top of everything else," Dirk mutters.
"Oh!" the boy says, like a lightbulb going off in his head. "I'm not a hallucination! That's what I thought, too, at first. It's okay, though, we're all just… Psychic? I think that's the word we're using. You've probably seen others, too, right?"
Dirk raises his eyebrows pointedly above his shades, turning his head to the side to look at the boy. "Seriously? ...Guess I have." The boy's standing, leaning against a white picket fence railing on a wooden deck floor. That's not what the top of this roof looks like. Dirk's lying on the wooden panel, too, and the sky above him is dark, but not quite black yet. The sun's in the wrong direction. It's quiet, much too quiet for a city, and when he looks beyond the boy, beyond the railing, he sees a quaint suburban neighborhood, where all the houses are separate and have their own little yard. Looks American.
Dirk heaves a sigh and turns his head back up to face the sky, giving up. "Get lost."
The boy looks confused, and then hurt, and Dirk can't afford to care. There's a moment of silence, and when Dirk looks he's back in Bremen and he's alone again.
He probably just made a complete ass of himself to a total stranger. If what the boy said was true, then he'd be seeing him again. There's about a 50% chance he was making it up, and Dirk really was hallucinating, but that leaves a 50% chance that he was telling the truth and they're psychic. Okay, he pulled those numbers out of his ass, but he really has no way to judge a situation like this. It's highly uncalled for.
Later, Rose will scold him for being rude and demand he apologize. There's also a 50% chance that he will.
A/N: Unsurprisingly, Rose is easiest to write. Jake is by far the hardest, if anyone has advice on him, it'd be much appreciated. I thought Jane would be difficult, I don't know her character as well, but she has the most Plot Related Shit so I really like writing her sections! Roxy and Dirk come surprisingly naturally to write, Harleyberts I have more struggles with :/
Anyways, I have almost all of chapter 2 written right now, but i'd rather wait to post it until most of chapter 3 is written! Sooo that'll either be in 2 weeks or in 3 months, anytime between then. In the meantime feel absolutely free to comment and tell me what you think, and also you can yell at me from my tumblr robinheartz, and on there my "hs" tag is full of headcanons, fun things, and a lotta art that influenced this. Have at me
