American Horror Story Hotel is coming... And my body... it's... so fucking ready... And yes my original intent for this story WAS successful...
Secret number two: by chapter three or four, the idea of where I wanted this story to go finally formed. Shortly after that, I discovered Steven Universe HOWEVER it's mention in the story IS NOT due to my interest with the show.
For whatever reason, you think of your mother a lot lately. The 'whatever reason' might be due to the fact that soon it'll be about... what, exactly a decade since you've seen her? Something like that. Anyway, yeah, that... wonderful anniversary is drawing nearer and you... well you'll be damned but you keep thinking of her.
And thank every deity out there, but when you think of her... the only images and phantom sensations that play through your mind and body happen to be the happy ones.
You remember being seven. And... And you remember the scent of her as a business woman. You remember. It's this perfect mix of Light Blue and makeup. Powder and citrus and flowers. She was leaving for work and you leaned up, arms opened for a hug. And that was the smell when you kissed her powdered cheek.
You remember the way her eyes would sparkle with glee and mischief. Her hair shone a caramel color in that light your memories insist played upon it. A darker blonde that was brought out only with highlights. But you can see the shine of her healthy hair and radiant smile and her eyes like little stars to match all that shine.
You remember how she used to brush your hair. You'd always tell her that you'd forgotten how to brush your hair, just so you could have her do it. And she'd look at you with eyes that let you know she was no fool. She knew you were lying. But she brushed your hair anyway because you needed any excuse you could for her to carefully, meticulously run that pink brush through your thick locks. And she did every time.
You remember only these happy things and yet it is only sadness that plagues you. A melancholy sort of emotion that chokes you thoroughly and thoughtlessly and frequently in the week leading up to the great anniversary of awful. You find yourself harsher on your managers beneath you and the little underlings beneath them.
You don't mean to be an unbearable bitch it just happens that way. But, sweet little gay men that they are, they totally are chill about it all. Baloo and Bagheera are two of the most wonderful men that have ever been a part of your life. Second and third only to your late father. Because while he was alive he was the greatest man in your life
And that's how father's should be and if it's anything otherwise they aren't doing it right.
But, those two... they came to you at separate times, Baloo first and a week later Bagheera. And they claimed to be roommates and you'd believed them and three whole weeks passed before you realized otherwise. You had, have, a strict no-dating policy for/between your co-workers/employees.
And seeing them interacting it was so obvious you felt stupid your gay senses hadn't been tingling the whole time. And then you'd taken them aside and informed them both very calmly that while they would not be fired, and you would not even be cutting hours for the infraction in the rules, if they ever dared to attempt lying to you again you would be merciless to them.
Anyway... They don't deserve you to act as you have this past week. You suppose that makes you lucky that they're both such patient men - when it comes to other people - and can deal with you even like this. But regardless it's ridiculous and if you could control yourself to some degree...
Reasons why you drink number one. It doesn't help that more and more lately you find yourself drinking less and less. You want to go home and drink until you ache you do you really do but you don't anymore. There are... More important things. People... Anna, you're talking about Anna.
She makes you boring, you've decided. Or real. She makes you acknowledge how your insides feel raw and every part of you always throbs with dull aches and pains that are dull only because you've spent so long becoming numb to them. She makes you want to think about those things and consider how they shape you and can hurt other people through you.
And she doesn't even mean to. Which is scary. Have you stated yet how much she terrifies you? There must be an exact number, a science for this really. But there isn't, and there's an old saying about wishes and shit... Or wishes and horses... Or horses and shit...
You should tell her. You were supposed to before, but it course you'd chickened out. Lately, as thoughts of your dear mother have flooded your mind - the mother that was still dear to you, before the monster she is now took over - you consider telling her. Telling her... everything. Every dirty secret underneath the pile of skeletons in your closet. Every flashback and nightmare. Every, every second of anguish and-
You consider alternatives that don't tremble your hands and blur your vision. You consider telling her nothing. You consider asking your friends for advice. But then even they don't really know everything. There's exactly one other person besides yourself that actually does know the whole story.
She's the last alternative. Also, she's your lunch date.
She walks into the restaurant wearing heels tall as a skyscraper. Her hair is curling about her face and head, gleaming a gold that her brown roots will tell you is from a bottle. Her green eyes are bright but slightly sunken in her somewhat gaunt face. She's what you might consider almost beautiful. The remnants of her youth are there but she is not youthful.
She's Linda. Fucking Linda. Crazy in a glass. A dear old friend. A person you hadn't spoken to since before you started talking to Anna. Which is unacceptable. You hadn't seen each other in a while and that was to be expected - Linda was something of a nomad, always on the move - but you hadn't been good about keeping in contact and when she had informed you she was in town today you took the time to be prepared for it.
"Elsa my sweet little baby!" She cries and you stand to hug her tightly. "Little bitch how dare you ignore me!" She hisses into your ear and pinches your bum. You squeak and snort and slap her arm as you draw back from the embrace.
"Linda, it's great to see you too," you drawl and she grins a sort of Cheshire cat grin and nods as she seats herself. You do the same and wave over a waiter. Only after placing your drink orders - and both of you order a ridiculous fucking cocktail, God it's good to slip into old hobbies - do you lean your elbows against the table and your head into your hands to copy the way Linda is now.
"Sooo tell me what's been happening since your silence, little one?" She talks to you like she's your mother. And honestly? She's been the closest thing to such since you were... fifteen? Yeah. So in a few days, that'd make that ten years. You'll be turning twenty five. God help you.
"Hmm, things and stuff, stuff and things. You know, the usual," you wave your hands in some odd vague gesture. She doesn't bother glaring, just blinks slowly and her brows creep upwards. Laughing, you clarify, "I've a love interest."
"Oh?"
"Yes," and your smile must be especially sickening because Linda looks amused and also confused. And you don't tend to ever be overly sickening in relationships... you don't tend to start serious relationships either, but... "She's lovely."
"This means I'm allowed to call you a useless brooding lesbian," Linda smiles, thanking the waiter politely as he returns with the drink orders and sets them down.
"I've dated women before..."
"And men, and women in suits, and men in dresses," she lists off on her fingers. "My, you've sampled the many flavours of life!... and yet you've never smiled that like for a single one." You say nothing, trying to hide your smile behind the sip of your drink. She grins knowingly at you. "Yeah that smile, that one right there! The one you can't hide from me." You throw your head back and bark out a laugh that she can't resist joining in on.
"God I've missed you, what brought you in town today?"
"Oh you know, money and favors," she waves her hands in a vague gesture much like you had but you nod, because you do know. When you left your home all those years ago, it was Linda that took you in. At that time she'd been much closer to beautiful than she is now, but still just as wild and lovable.
She fucking took you in off the street. There's more than just a handful of reasons she's the closest thing to a mother you have.
"Same old same old," she shrugs and you smile and laugh lightly, taking another draw from your drink. Good Lord this drink is good. You don't usually get cocktails but fuck it it's been too long and it's sweeter than sugar. "You still running your auntie's ice cream parlor?"
"You make me sound like I'm six," you intone but she only titters and nods. "Yes, I've added in some new equipment, we even have credit card machines now!"
"Scandal!" She gasps, throwing her hands up. Linda speaks with her hands, you love it.
"Right? We're so hi tech now we could be the birthplace of Skynet."
"Oh I bet! I bet," she pauses to gulp at her drink. You may or may not have picked up bad habits from most of the 'good' influences in your life. "I'm glad. At least someone takes care of my girl."
"Now now, Lin, let's not get spicy. I don't blame her-"
"Yes you do," she glares but it isn't at you. "Just not as much as me. I blame him more than her but, really, who wouldn't."
"Linda, can we, like, not?"
"Tell me about your girl?" her snarl morphs into a smile so seamlessly it could almost seem natural.
"Ah," it catches you off guard and you fumble for words for just a moment. "Her name is Anna, she's... oddly charming. Annoying. Not all that tall, shorter than me in fact. She's... nice. A stubborn ass and she's got GORGEOUS eyes and she's actually built like really well and she pisses me off so much I want to hit her and she makes me so so-"
"Happy," it must be the alcohol that warms your cheeks.
"So umm, yeah she's. She's nice," you like feeling warm, so you'll just drown yourself in this drink for half a sec.
"You've said that." Linda points out.
"Yes... ah, I kind of... like her... like, a lot. Ish. And... I'm not entirely certain she trusts me completely... but I-I want to... try trusting her, I mean."
"You haven't told her," she sums up and you lock up for a second. You could almost believe in that moment even your heart stops.
"I... haven't told anyone..."
"Oh, honey..."
"I know. I know. I just. Can't. I hate that I still have nightmares, discussing it makes me-"
"Flip out, change subject, or run away, yes I'm aware," You glare, at her. But she just smiles. You hate her sad smiles. "But you want to tell her?"
"Yes!" You don't feel as confident as your immediate answer makes you sound. Or maybe it sounds hasty and falls short of the confidence you can barely pretend you have. Maybe your hands are still shaking and that's shy you've put them in your lap. And MAYBE you should try like, fucking breathing or something. "Yes I... put her through a lot of my emotional episodes and... it's only fair she knows why... Right?"
"Sweety... I can't tell you what to do. You're an adult and you've got to make this decision on your own but, if I may offer my opinion?"
"Duh," you roll your eyes, "Why do you think I wanted to meet you here?" her eyes spark with some sort of delight and she smiles for a brief moment. But she continues, seriously,
"Don't tell her because you feel obligated to, like you owe it to her. Tell her because you want to. Because you genuinely want her to know and think that it will make you and your relationship better and stronger."
It's good to have Linda. It's good to have just one person to trust. But maybe...
"Have I told you that I missed you?" She laughs, shakes her head. "How bout that I love you?"
"No I don't believe so. But you know what says love and misses like nothing else?"
"Hugs and kisses?"
"You buying my lunch," And the both of you laugh, despite she's serious. Of course you will, you'd decided that before this conversation even started. But you surrender and agree, put on a big show like it's a problem for you.
"But only on one condition," you say at last, and she cocks a brow and purses her lips. As in, what right do you have for conditions? But you smile, ever triumphant and tell her, "You must meet Anna."
"You drive a hard bargain, my girl, but... I'll have to agree." You shake hands on it and laugh. And then you flag down a waiter to get your orders. You smile and chat and laugh. And when she orders a second drink... you don't.
Some things do change, so it would seem.
And maybe you can trust more than one person
