Thumb Rings and Ballet Slippers

She wished her last day wasn't a Tuesday.

She wished it was a Monday, with sleepy workers coming to the counter with bed hair and eyes rimmed with red, who would simply ask for a drink that was high in caffeine and low in price as they continued on to start their Monday. She wished it was Friday with a rush of customers that would flood the store with smiles and excited tales about what they'd be doing over the weekend. She wished there were more people, it all seemed so unceremonious to have her last day on a Tuesday. Then again, she met Plato on a Tuesday. Perhaps Tuesday was her day of new beginnings because as sad as she was to leave, she had a faint ringing in her ear that acted as a reminder of the big things that were soon to happen. She was going to be a dancer, she was going to have a proper grown-up performer job.

She leaned on the counter, doodling in her notepad as she usually did and she tried to imagine what it'd be like to leave today at four o'clock, hang up her apron and pull her hair down from it's bun while knowing that this would be the last time. She wouldn't call 'see you tomorrow' to Rumpleteazer today, she wouldn't have to clock in again, she wouldn't have to make another damn cup of coffee and she was sad.

Alonzo came in this morning, racking a hand through his hair and shooting her a smile. When she told him that this was her last day, he looked sad too. He shook his head and pouted, telling her that she wasn't allowed to leave because she helped him get excited for a day toiling away as a teacher, making her promise that she'd come and grab a coffee with him sometime. She'd miss seeing Alonzo every day and how he managed to make her self-esteem soar through the roof effortlessly, make her feel pretty when her hair was falling out of it's bun and her face was flushed from heating up milk all day and dealing with customers that made her scream inwardly.

"Well coffee girl," he said, "This is your last chance, if you'd like to confess your undying love to me then now is the time."

She thought about it now, as she drew a flower carefully with a blunt pencil on a crumpled page, and laughed out loud. She would miss Alonzo.

"It's half-three," Rumpleteazer said, nudging her slightly with her hip, "You have half an hour left working alongside me and I'm so incredibly heartbroken. What would soften the blow is if you went over there and dealt with that old man who just spilled his coffee down him."

Victoria stretched and straightened up, nudging Rumpleteazer back as she walked past, smiling her dimpled smile as the old dear stared confusedly at his wet shirt. She would miss Rumpleteazer and her hip-nudging, her freckled grin and ginger hair. She would miss her humour and her giggle, she would miss working next to her and feeling comfortable.

She would miss this pretentious and borderline exploitative job.

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Her hair was on his pillow, her body was sprawled on his blanket and her chest was rising with every breath. He tried to ignore her being there, instead turning his attention to the monitor of his computer and scrolling through job advertisements in a boyish attempt to seem as though he could do anything but work in a call centre and dance on the street. She was breathing too loudly and she'd put too much perfume on so he'd have to wash those sheets a good few times before he got the scent of her out of them. She had retouched her make-up on his bed too, he was sure there'd be flecks of mascara on those sheets, perhaps a patch of loose powder too, God she was clumsy. Not only was she clumsy, but she was hugely distracting and it was starting to irritate him, he couldn't tune out like he usually could when interacting with other people, she demanded attention and it was draining.

"It's funny to think I was having sex in the room next door a week ago," she said and her voice was high and infantile. He smirked and ducked his head so that she couldn't see his clenched jaw or furrowed brows.

"I don't want to think about you and my older brother fornicating, thanks very much," he managed to say without sounding like the wind was knocked out of him or that his heart was in his throat. She sat up, giggling and cradling his pillow, he could feel her eyes burn the back of his head as they watched for his reaction.

"It looks like I'm making my way around the brothers, right? First Addie and now Tumble. Should we fuck too, Pounce?"

"Ew. Could you at least put it in a nicer way? 'Fuck' is gross."

"Would you rather I say 'make love'? Let's make lurrrrrve, Pouncival," she said with a grin, pushing forward so that she sat on her knees now and threw a pillow at the back of his head, it made him turn around indignantly but when he caught her face, her excited bite of the lip and the twinkle in her eye, he couldn't complain about her commanding he act as her audience.

He wanted to love Etcetera, in every sense of the word. He already kissed her hair when she fell asleep on his bed, he already held her close and looked her dead in the eyes when they danced together, he already traced soothing circles on her back with his hands when she cried, he already loved her. So to say, 'make love' wasn't exactly an unfitting expression, even if it was an overwhelmingly cheesy cliché. He would take care of her more than Admetus, who fucked off to America when she began to open herself to him, bringing nothing but sunshine and daffodils into his life. He would love her more than Tumblebrutus, who had ducked his head and blushed when she stumbled out of his room in the morning, her skin glowing with vanilla body lotion as she complained about how late she was for this audition. Pouncival wouldn't go away, he wouldn't be embarrassed. He would embrace everything about her; daffodils, sunshine, vanilla skin, clumsiness, need for attention and bipolar tendencies.

"I'm sure Tumble would have something to say about that," he mumbled. Tumblebrutus seemed to like her, then again he seemed to like everyone. It was part of his personality that made him so God damn charismatic, and that he wasn't incredibly mature like their older brothers nor immature like Pouncival also helped, he struck the balance perfectly with most things he did.

"Or Addie, when he realises that buxom American women aren't for him and comes back for me," she said with a smile. He noted how it didn't hit her eyes, her smiles never did when she spoke about Admetus. Pouncival felt his mouth dry up and any possible words of comfort that he should be able to squeeze out of his chapped lips stayed in his throat and died there. He resorted to rolling his eyes and moving next to her so that she could place her head on his shoulder. He couldn't help but find that she fit perfectly there, her hair on his checked shirt looked better than it ever would on one of Tumblebrutus' clean white shirts. They sat there for a while, she'd ask how university was going and how his street performances were helping him pay his share of the rent, sometimes she'd tell a funny story about work. He didn't really talk much around Etcetera, she spoke enough for the both of them. He liked rhythm of her voice though, it was fast and bouncy, sometimes she'd trip over her words because she'd accelerated too hastily through her sentence. She said her goodbyes quickly too, standing suddenly so he noticed the loss of weight on his shoulder instantly, and then blew a kiss before flouncing out the room, calling that she promised to meet up with her Mother that afternoon to show her that she wasn't dead yet.

He could hear her bump into to Tumblebrutus on the stairs, her obnoxious laughter floated through the air and found its way to his ears and he knew that they'd be flirting. Hell, Tumble probably swooped her into his arms and carried her down the stairs so she didn't have to shuffle past him. His phone buzzed and he turned on his side, biting back a smile as 'Tea Lady' appeared on the screen.

What do you buy a friend who's kind of happy she's leaving her job but also kind of sad she's leaving her job as a present? I'm on my way home from my classes of the day and I'm stumped and I couldn't think of anyone else to ask. Help.

He smirked a little. They'd been texting a lot since they met that night and neither of them thought too much of it, perhaps it was because it was nice to talk to someone who was so removed from their personal lives, and this was the usual nature of Jemima's messages. She spoke with a purpose, littering it with little jokes so that he could see her elfin grin behind the words. He would send her a tea-related pun everyday without fail so that she giggled on her break at work or when she was brushing her teeth in the morning. They hadn't actually spoken face-to-face since the night Etcetera dragged her over to his table.

He wasn't sure he wanted to. He found himself say things he'd usually filter out around her, her eyes were disarming and it scared him a little bit. She had sussed out his feelings towards Etcetera over an hour or so's conversation. But then she'd send him a picture of her drinking a cup of tea in the morning, making a joke about how she'd already scalded five innocent bystanders, with her hair tied up and her face bare and she'd seem so innocent and he couldn't fathom how someone that seemed so unassuming could make him feel so uncomfortable in the acceptance and tolerance she automatically provided with little reluctance. It might also be because he had never wanted to be with anyone but Etcetera, and Jemima's brown eyes and strong jaw were confusing him.

Pouncival and Etcetera grew up together, she was closer to Tumblebrutus' age but she always strayed behind to play war games with him instead of football with the others. When she was sixteen and he was fourteen and she came round in a light yellow dress for her prom, her arm in Tumble's and her eyes on Admetus, he remembered thinking that one day he wanted to have her arm in his and he wanted her eyes on him. When she finally got with Admetus, he was the first one she told and he had to act so hard to make it seem like he was happy for them. He'd date girls, of course. And they might even have freckles, or wheat hair or sparkling eyes but it was never the same. It was never the same because it wasn't Etcetera. Now she had introduced him to this midget and he was confused because he had looked at this girl, with her dark hair and her understanding and slightly tea-stained smile, and he had wanted to kiss her. When they were outside her flat, just after she'd given him her number so that he could call when he got home, she smiled up at him and wished him good night and he had wanted to bend his neck a little more so that he could press chapped lips against bitten ones. It wasn't out of duty because they hadn't been on a date, it wasn't because she was obviously flirting with him and he'd feel guilty if he didn't, it wasn't even because he wanted her to invite him into her bedroom. He just wanted to and that was strange.

Being around Etcetera today showed him that it wasn't anything like his feelings towards her, he didn't look at Jemima and see nearly a lifetime's worth of longing, but it was still unsettling. For all of it's awkwardness, the notion of seeing her again was also enticing, just to see if that want to mash faces together was still there on his part. So he tapped his response, biting his lip slightly.

That's a very specific-sounding gift. Where are you right now? I kind of want to stretch my legs.

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Munkustrap shouldn't have offered to go out with Alonzo to buy baby books.

The news that his dearest friend was going to be a Father was surprising but he couldn't help but think it'd be the making of his frivolous and proud companion. However, there were still parts of imminent Fatherhood that, understandably, shook Alonzo. Buying baby books was one, because Cassandra had been very particular on what ones she wanted him to get and he was very eager to please the Mother of his child, so much so that he wanted someone there to just make sure the list she gave him matched the books he picked up with his shaky hands. Munkustrap had offered, glad to be apart of the process in whatever shape or form. Alonzo and Cassandra were close to him, he was glad to see them happy and, in true Munkustrap nature, wanted to do whatever he could to help.

It unnerved him slightly that Alonzo was settling down and having a family before him, not that he wasn't incredibly happy for him, but because he had always assumed that he'd be the first from his friendship group to do the adult things like have a baby. Now, he felt farther away from a suburban Father-Husband life than ever with the woman he'd loved since he was a teenager with his brother. He'd only ever seen himself with Demeter, had only ever wanted to wake up to her golden hair on his pillow and her green eyes blinking at him sleepily as sunlight broke through the break in their curtains, with a toddler clamouring at the foot of their bed for their attention. The closest he had got to that lately was kissing her little sister on a second-hand leather sofa and then never calling her back. He smirked a little as Alonzo bundled all of his books in his arms, smiling proudly as he walked to the counter to pay and to flirt with the woman who was cooing at all the baby titles. Alonzo, with his flirting with cashiers and his boyish grin, was having a child with a woman he cared deeply for whilst Munkustrap was busying himself with kissing nineteen year old girls and never calling them again. His chest tightened a little at the thought.

He had been plagued with images of Jemima looking crestfallen, of Demeter staring at him disappointedly and Bombalurina putting her arms around her sisters and glaring at him. The sisters he so admired and loved made him pace in his room when he was alone, they made him reach for the phone to ask Tugger to meet up so that he could have anything but their faces to focus on, they made him blank out during his own lessons and his students would look at him expectantly as he tried to form a semi-coherent sentence. When Alonzo came over, two plastic bags full of books and a grin on his face, Munkustrap snapped himself out of it and proposed getting food before they headed their own ways.

"Food sounds good" Alonzo said with a grin as he walked alongside his friend, "Oh, did I tell you that pretty coffee girl's quitting? Because of bloody Cassandra too, offering her this big dance-y job. That woman."

"Victoria?" Munkustrap said with a grin, "That's great though. Quaxo always used to talk about her dancing."

He ignored that Victoria was Jemima's room mate.

"But who will spur my excitement for the day now that she's not there? She was the right amount of beautiful and unattainable that made flirting with her fun but not all too serious. What if they hire this poor bright-eyed and bushy-tailed thing who takes me too seriously?"

"I don't think you have to worry about anybody taking you too seriously, worry about them not taking you seriously at all."

Munkustrap grinned and Alonzo gave an indignant roll of the eyes. When they stepped out of the store and started to walk down the high street, Alonzo talking loudly about his plans of suburban bliss with Cassandra in her fancy house and her fluffy rugs, Munkustrap swore he saw a flash of mahogany hair and an elfin grin. He paused in his step, and turned quickly, unsure if it was his mind playing tricks on him or if he was really seeing her.

And there she was. She looked tired and she'd lost a little weight, with her jawline and cheekbones protruding underneath paper skin and dark circles rimming her warm eyes, but she still looked like Jemima. Alonzo stopped with Munkustrap and followed his gaze, smiling a little as he spotted her.

"Demeter's little sister," he said with a grin, "Cassandra told me she's working for Exotica now. I didn't believe her when she told me, I mean... Look at her."

Munkustrap looked at the man beside him in disbelief. He'd heard horror stories of Exotica's bar, of her girls quitting on short notice because the men that went there all became too much, of men following workers home. It was no place for Jemima who naively saw goodness in everything, he reasoned that was why she looked so tired, why she'd lost weight.

"We should go over," Alonzo said suddenly, "We could all get food together, I haven't spoken to the kid for a while."

That was a good idea. Munkustrap looked over to Jemima who was checking her phone and seemed as though she didn't have anything pressing to do, perhaps she'd be more comfortable seeing him again with Alonzo and then perhaps they could talk about what had happened, perhaps he could convince her that she didn't have to work at Exotica's, perhaps he could redeem his cowardly actions over the past few weeks if he spoke to her now. His jaw slackened and his tongue danced behind his teeth, ready to agree with Alonzo, when a tall boy with chestnut hair and a grin came up behind her and ruffled her hair, causing her to turn and let out a fairy laugh that found it's way to Munkustrap's ears and resonated throughout his head. She looked up at this boy and her eyes lit up, they spoke animatedly and suddenly she didn't look so tired any more. She lit up for whoever this boy was. It wasn't like how she'd lit up for Munkustrap as she lay beneath him, submerging him in warmth and light, but she lit up nevertheless.

And who was he to ruin that? To stride over with Alonzo, to bring back the memory of what happened on that second-hand leather sofa over cups of tea and chocolate biscuits when she seemed happy enough with whoever this boy was? He was closer to her age and Munkustrap was almost certain that he wasn't in love with her older sister, he was a much better alternative to the twenty-seven year old man who had moped on her sofa over something he couldn't have.

"No," Munkustrap said as he turned and continued walking, "She looks busy."

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Rumpleteazer had bought her a coffee mug as a joke, hugged her before wishing her good luck on her new adventure. Victoria had cried because the prospect of not showing up for work tomorrow to see Rumpleteazer combing her ginger hair with her fingers as she complained loudly about having to be up at unholy hours to make it to work on time made her sad. Rumpleteazer had laughed at her, had wiped her eyes before murmuring that if Victoria didn't show up for a coffee at least once a week then she'd be incredibly offended. Victoria hung up her apron, untied her hair and slid on her coat before leaving the shop, feeling as if she'd left half of herself behind.

Plato had bought her flowers, pink tiger lilies arranged neatly that stood proudly in a teapot that Jemima's Auntie had given her that worked as a makeshift vase. He kissed her hair and told her how pleased he was for her and Victoria had cried because Plato was sweet and he was hers. He laughed a little before suggesting that they clean the table, that was often used for holding the girls' keys, umbrellas and scarves, so that they could all eat dinner together later, perhaps even her brother could come round. She nodded and he kissed her again, enveloping her in his long arms and running a hand down her back as she moved her lips against his.

Jemima had bought her the 'Angelina Ballerina' box set, a cartoon that she was outraged Victoria hadn't watched as a child about a ballet dancing mouse, and some green tea since Victoria had joked that she was worried about her figure with all the builder's tea she'd been drinking with Jemima as a room mate. Victoria had cried because her room mate was so thoughtful and she was so grateful to have her brother match her up with someone so sweet. Jemima started to panic, misinterpreting the tears and apologising profusely for mentioning Victoria' weight and the builder's tea which elicited a laugh from the older girl who gave her a brief hug and soothed her friend's worries with promises of watching the cartoon later.

"You sit right there and relax," Plato said, dumping the things he'd collected from the dining table onto the coffee table, "We'll settle the culinary masterpiece in the kitchen and your brother and his boyfriend have already been called."

"Quaxo and Tugger aren't actually..."

"Details, details!" Jemima called from the kitchen, "Plato, my cooking skills don't stretch much further from honey on toast so I'm going to need you in here pretty please."

When Quaxo and Tugger arrived, Plato and Jemima were still in the kitchen. The three could occasionally hear a pan being dropped or Plato cursing slightly or Jemima giggling from the living room and eventually Quaxo stood and stated that he couldn't bear it any more before dashing to the kitchen.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Victoria heard her brother exclaim, a laugh dancing on his voice, "What are you even trying to make?"

Victoria giggled and Tugger rolled his eyes but a fond smile was creeping onto his face. He caught the blonde girl's eye and nodded towards her,

"You excited for your new job?"

She nodded automatically because of course she was excited. She only ever wanted to dance for a living and while this was more commercial than she'd ever intended, it was better than doing nothing. She didn't want to be a waitress or 'between jobs' her whole life, but the familiar feeling of self-doubt was niggling at her. She knew the feeling well, her perfection complex that made her gut twist with nerves whenever she thought about performing less than... well, less than perfectly. As much as Victoria was excited, as much as she knew that she was doing the right thing and this was a step in the right direction for her, she had nights where she lay awake and worried about making a fool of herself in front of the other dancers. When she practised, spinning on her toes or stretching her arms towards the ceiling, her hands would shake under the pressure of her own thoughts. When she spent a day without at least stretching, she panicked that she'd somehow lost her ability to dance over the lapse of objectivity.

But of course she was excited. How could she not be when her amazing brother, her sweet best friend and her beautiful boyfriend emerged from the kitchen with grins and called for the other two to sit down ready? How could she not be when Quaxo sat next to her and squeezed her hand whilst Plato and Jemima brought out a plate of slightly singed garlic bread, a bowl of soggy pasta and a tomato sauce that had obviously been recooked by Quaxo? How could she not be when, after they'd all ate the less than brilliant but substantial meal prepared in her honour, Jemima and Plato rushed to get the plates stacked up then disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a very obviously store-bought cake? How could she not be when they toasted her as they raised different sized wine glasses full of champagne provided by Quaxo?

"To my sister," Quaxo had said, his smile broad and proud. It was nice to have her brother toast her, her brother who had made a name for himself after what seemed like minutes of living in London and doing card tricks on the street.

"To Quaxo's sister," Tugger had said, winking at her and chuckling as Quaxo rolled his eyes exasperatedly at him. Well, she hadn't expected too much sentiment from a man she barely knew.

"To my lovely girlfriend," Plato had said, his eyes full of her and his smile stretching across his boyish face. She wanted to kiss him right there, she loved it when he looked at her like that, like she was his greatest accomplishment.

"To Victoria and her pointy shoe things," Jemima had concluded, her voice was warm and if Victoria could compare it to anything in that moment it would be a comforting cup of builder's tea.

Victoria had cried.

((A/N: And my exams are done! Finally! Thanks a lot to those who are reviewing because it really does make my day. I'm hoping to be able to write more for this now I have more time on my hands, it's all very exciting haha. I hope everyone's doing well!))