thicker than dust .

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Julia Astaire finds her chest heavy as she waits for Oliver Leighton in the hallway outside the change room. Her hands ball up inside her camel coat and her fingers press cold coins warm. On the speaker above her plays a song she doesn't recognize, it's sludgy and not her type but she picks up the beat anyway and wags a leather boot to it. Julia's a terribly impatient girl, minutes feel like hours and she's impossible on long car rides. Full of 'are-we-there yets' and always poking at the person next to her, she's very antsy. So although Oliver's only been away for five minutes, her eyes are already bored of the sights and she's moving off the wall she's been leaning on to the opposite, she now faces the door. “Julia, right?” the blonde is fixated on the glow of the red EXIT sign when a voice speaks to the left of her. Her blue eyes dart to the sound, “oh hi!” her receiving voice is bubbly compared to the bearded tattoo man's. “Julia, mhm. You're John?” He smells a bit like sweat and beer, she's met him a few times here and has a vague memory of doing tequila shots with him last time she went one of Ollie's fights. “Yea. A few of us are going out to the bar, let Ollie know... you two should come.” She can't tell if he's smiling behind his beard, but his muddy brown eyes seem to be. Her pink lips give a soft smile, too sleepy and anxious for small talk she only gives a nod and an, “okay.” The gruff man nods back and mutters, “see you later then”, before disappearing under the EXIT sign. By now, the song has switched on the radio. She grinds her back into the concrete wall behind her and tips her head toward the speaker, her eyes closing for a moment. It's one of those overplayed radio songs she liked before society kept shoving it down her throat. She knows all the words and humming along to it seems to be sort of entertaining. Julia leans her weight onto one hip and resumes nodding her foot to the beat. When she door opposite her opens, she is suddenly amped back up and she smiles a big fake one. The smile is short-lived, she'd never get used to seeing a freshly split lip or skin so beat it flushed an impossibly bright red. Her forehead wrinkles with concern and her hands clench deeper into her pockets, fighting an urge to run her hands over these superficial wounds. “Oh, are you okay?” she pouts, remembering what he mentioned about concussions. “Can you say the alphabet backwards? What about pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time?” Looking a flushed Oliver, Julia presses her back against the concrete and imagines she's sinking into it. ................................................... tag: @oliver music: blood in the cut // k.flay notes: sorry about this garbage

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Sweat coats Ollie's skin like a layer of lotion applied to a fresh tattoo. Sat on the very bench he had been sat on waiting for his cue to leave, it felt like five minutes ago that he'd last been in the changing room and not the close to two hours it really had been. Adrenaline still flooded his body, and though his heart was still beating rapidly, it had died down from the roar it had been whilst out in the ring. The medic checking him over is all but invisible - though he opens his mouth when prompted and his pupils dilate under the glare of that little torch, he's only barely aware of the man's existence as he's prodded with a gloved finger... not a great sign. However, it's not concussion that distracts the wayward boy, but sheer elation. Unlike most professionally competitive people, Oliver's elation was only barely tied to his winning or losing status. Like a lesson from a childhood tv show lesson made flesh, Ollie's joy came from participation and not from the outcome, and when he shook his opponent's hand at the bookends of a fight he truly meant it as a sign of camaraderie. Innocent though his intentions were, this niceness quite often irked whoever happened to be on the receiving end of that handshake, most of whom relied on a strong sense of rivalry to motivate their performance. Not Ollie. It is not until he's in the shower, hot water washing away sweat but also blood, that the pain sets in. Under the heat and the wet his split lip sings with pain, and by the time he steps out and checks himself in the mirror there's a nice, dark bruise forming against his left cheekbone. Not too shabby. Grinning at his lightly battered reflection, he roughly towel dries himself and pulls on the sweats and sweatshirt he'd turned up in, giving himself a quick spritz of deodorant for good measure. Once upon a time Olivia would have been in the background at times like these, handing him a towel, recreating his best moments, dabbing at any bleeding with a balled up bit of cotton wool. It had been some time since this had last happened, though, and whilst he would usually be upset by this, he was too elated by the memory of who lay on the other side of the door to care much today. He had invited Julia in, but she in all her sweetness had declined, a faint blush colouring her cheeks and reminding him of how different she was, how innocent. He'd rushed to get ready, managing to turn it around in five minutes flat. Opening the door, he's faced with one of the most forced smiles he's ever seen. Unable to help himself he returns it with a genuine grin of his own, a gesture that pulls on his injured lip and causes him to wince a little. Not good. Laughing as she fusses over him, he raises an inked hand to settle her, letting it fall around her shoulders as he pulls her in for a hug. "You're asking me to do things I can't do at the best of times. Stop it," he says, kissing the top of her head and leading her down the hallway, his other hand slinging a gym bag over his shoulder. "Think of this as a hangover. Basically self inflicted, ultimately harmless. I've been given the all clear." He pushes open the exit door with a shoulder, this time managing to stifle his wince. Cold air hits them like a punch to the face but after a moment of acclimatization it's nice, soothing against his hot skin. He releases her from his grip, a wide smile once again on his face as he turns to look at her. "So tell me, Astaire. What do you wanna do with the rest of the night? I'm happy to do whatever you want, whether that's head to the bar with the guys, or maybe just head back to mine so you can bask in the reflected glow of my victory. Really, either's fine." ................................................... music: bojack horseman. not ideal. notes: i know we always say this but i'm genuinely embarrassed by how bad this was?? i promise it'll get better! ...maybe.

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High up in the bleachers tonight, Julia felt her presence was sorely missed. Having attained favouritism among the regulars in the crowd, upon settling herself in her usual spot mid-centre people seemed to float to her. “Blondie!” one guy said, then proceeded to sit next to her and catch up with her for ten minutes. People in the crowd were either proud parents, creepy bored town people seeking a cheap thrill, fellow fighters, coaches, or sometimes girlfriends of the fighters. They cheered violently, at times holding make shift banners but mostly using the power of their screams to grab attention. Julia was different, more meek and soft, she only tended to jump up to clap her hands with enthusiasm or to jump up and clasp her hands to her mouth when she saw someone might be hurt. Though it was only Ollie's fights she stood like a very concerned mother, watching intently as he and the other guy swung at each other. She usually said good luck to the people around her and rushed off once Ollie finished up triumphantly. Seeing violet patches on his face made her feel slightly ill and even as she's pulled into a hug she's unable to relax. Fitted in an embrace she pulls her hands from her coat and raises a warm palm to his cheekbone, stroking the sore with a manicured thumb. “How do I know you're not lying?” she frowns and leans into his steamy body as he pecks her head, her arms wrap around him and return the hug. “Remember what you said about concussions?” Julia wiggles from his grip, her shoes click on the tiled floor as they head towards the door. “Something about trying to get out of it?” she continues to frown as they push through the door. She's taken with how cold it's gotten. So cold that she has to test it like a child, pushing hot breath through her lungs and watching as it drifts through the air like fog. Feeling successful, she turns to Ollie and beams. A born Californian, the idea of a snowy winter is still so fresh and exciting to her. “Oh, your friend invited us out to that bar,” she mentions, pulling her hair to one side of her face. “But I don't think I can do tequila tonight,” she feels a twinge of drunk shame from the last time they went out, there's a faded memory of her being stupidly flirtatious and unbearable. “Can we go back to yours? I'll even chant your name and pour you a shot? It'll be just like going out with the boys, I just won't be able to embarrass myself as much?” Julia fiddles with her hair again, pulling it to the opposite side. “Can we grab some junk food though? I'm starving,” she says dramatically, grabbing his hand with hers and pulling at him. ................................................... music: spongebob. notes: SORRY SORRY SORRY

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If there was one thing that stood out in Ollie's mind when he thought about Julia, it was her youthfulness. Where his was so often spurned as immaturity, her's was of a more gentle, naive nature, and it made her all the more endearing for it. But that shared vivacity was hard to find in others. Superficially it was present in peppy, bubbly types, but so often this was a forced trait in others, a mask to try and attract the attention toward themselves. In Julia he could see his own best traits reflected; a curiosity about everything, an openness to the world and everyone in it. Extraverted though they both were, it wasn't a 'look at me' kind of extraversion. Instead, people naturally gravitated towards Julia, attracted by her genuine nature and willingness to trust in others' intentions. Childlike rather than immature. In a city as cynical as New York, it was such a relief to be around someone who shared that quality with him, who liked things, really liked them instead of ironically. Julia didn't try. It took this evening for him to realize how much he'd missed having her around all summer. There was her warmth again, so present in her body language as she ran a hand across his bruised skin. Grinning inanely, Ollie shrugged. "When you're as badass as me, this is nothing," he said, bravado so exaggerated it was more playground than boxing ring. Her concern elicits a dramatic eye roll, and he waved his hand dismissively. "Forget what Ollie from yesterday said, he didn't know what he was talking about. Look." He stops, taking her by the shoulders and looking her straight in her clear blue eyes. "Z, Y, X, W.. uh... ABCDEF..." he starts muttering under his breath, glancing to the side as he whizzes through the rhyme in his head. "...V, R, S... look, you get the idea. I'm fine! Let's have some fun." He returns his arm to its rightful place around her slight shoulders, victorious once again. Instinctively he pulls her closer as the chill sets in, casting a glance down at her outfit to check that she's going to be warm enough. Not that he'd have much to offer her if not. As he does so great plumes of condescension are blown from her full lips, making him pull his own into a smile. "Are you warm enough? We can get an Uber if you aren't," he says, an edge of concern to his voice. One of those people who runs cold, Ollie didn't much feel the temperature drops but was absolutely insufferable in summer, when he refused to be anywhere that didn't have air con he could dial up to full whack. This tendency made him especially aware of others at times like this, not wanting them to suffer in silence on account of his nonchalance. "But I love drunk Julia, she's definitely in my top 5 Julias. Drunk Julia made fun of some of my tattoos and got a little valley girl in her accent. She's great!" Sensing her discomfort, he dropped the joke-- something he had only learnt to do in recent years. Letting go, he slipped her hand into his, giving it a squeeze. "But you're right, I probably shouldn't drink much tonight. Feeling a little woozy," he lied. "Let's go back to mine." ................................................... music: fantastic 4 soundtrack. so good for such a shit movie. notes: hi my name is lex and my fave things are run on sentences and GIVING YOU NOTHING TO WORK WITH.

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Watching Ollie has he fumbles over the alphabet simultaneously raises her worries and makes her laugh. “S is after R, try again,” she shakes her head, a grin widening across her pixie features. In a city full of serious people screaming at yellow taxi cabs, she finds Oliver relaxing. In ordinary circumstances, she found Ollie's voice easing and relaxing. She associated him with things like lavender and a cup of sugary hot tea, things that could give her an immediate sense of warm. She's surprised she still sees this in him, because although she's a little more nervous and feels an underlying uncertainty to their conversation, Julia still feels the same warmth. “I'm warm,” she claims, her fingers quickly doing up a button on her jacket and pulling up the collar around her ears. “We can take an Uber in a while, maybe save two bucks?” truthfully she wasn't that warm. She was taken by surprised by the sudden cold, as earlier when they went out for lunch the sun had been shining and it'd been two warm for her coat. Other than her semi-warm wool coat, she had little going for heat. A thin turtleneck ripped jeans, and non-insulated leather boots, she could feel the cold on her feet already. Blood rushes to her cheeks painting them a bright red and she tips her head with shame. “Ughh,” she grimaces, biting her plump lip and shaking her head. “Drunk Julia's a tooootal ass,” she mimics her own valley girl accent, and tries to talk off her awkwardness. Wrapping her fingers in his, she glares at him, “You lied! Concussion! I'm never trusting you again!” She storms ahead a few steps, her hand jerking him along with her. “Is this the right way?” her pace slows a little, and she halts. “I'm actually.. can we get an Uber? I'm cold.” ................................................... music: zootopia. judge. i'm babysitting a sick child. notes: THIS.

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"Alright smart stuff, alright. I'm not concussed, just a garden variety idiot," he grins, nudging her ribs gently with his elbow. It's a strangely gentle gesture from someone who was laying gloved fists into the face of another man only moments before, and the juxtaposition between Oliver's usual manner and his aggression in the ring is one that spectators often take note of. What his family assumed was an expression of pent up aggression was really anything but-- if Ollie had repressed emotions, and certainly he did, they were buried so deep no mere blow to the head would encourage them to the surface. He wasn't sure where his love for the sport came from, but of all the things he loved about it - the camaraderie, the crowd, the raw masculinity, the sheer brutality of it and its very simplicity - the violence was the thing he was least comfortable with. It was ridiculous, really, given that he was walking down the street with a split lip and purple skin, but the violence felt like the most pantomime element of all. He casts a skeptical glance in her direction. The tip of her nose is tinged pink with cold, her shoulders ever so slightly hunched against it. He leans over and pulls her collar up roughly, folding the coat around her more tightly. "The second we get in I'm smothering you in blankets," he says, eyes forward again but catching her in his peripheral vision, checking that she wasn't showing any signs of chill when she thought his back was turned. Picking up his pace a little, he hoped that the increased speed might get the blood pumping, keeping the little Californian that tiny bit more comfortable. It turns out he needn't have bothered, since blood flooded to her cheeks, turning them beetroot red. Ollie couldn't help but laugh. "Stop, you're one of the least embarrassing drunks I've ever met. If anything you're even more adorable wasted. Vocal fry and all." Holding up both hands in mock surrender, her hand is in one and gets taken with it. "Hey, hey, I'm not lying! Just teasing. I'm fine, honestly. Totally fine.... just don't let me fall asleep," he can't help himself, grinning at her and raising his eyebrows as if to challenge a reaction. It's sweet how much she cares about him and he can't help but enjoy it, pushing her to show it over and over. He promised himself he'd stop. "Now who's the liar. Hang on," he lets go of her hand for a moment, whipping his phone out of a pocket and opening the app. In mere seconds he's promised the arrival of a Toyota Yaris in no more than two minutes. "Our boy Mohammed will be here any second, hang tight. In fact, c'mere." Before she can protest he's pulled her close to him, wrapping both arms around her and holding tight, trying to keep the cold at bay. ................................................... music: fantastic 4 soundtrack still. notes: ih me but i really love zootopia.

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Julia's feline features glow behind the camel collar she's tucked into, winter nights are settling into daylight savings time and she hates to admit she's missing the sun. With winter comes things she loves. She's sooner cuddle under layers of soft blankets and watch a childish Christmas movie than go to a rooftop party where she's forced to make stupid small talk. She's an extrovert with introvert tenancies. She loves getting a little attention, she wouldn't be part-time modelling if she didn't. But she'd rather one deep conversation in a silent room, than a dozen chats about the weather in a loud bar. Right now she's wishing the sun was fading away under skyscrapers as they walked, and that she was wearing less clothing and was ten times warmer. Oliver's comment on her drinking only makes her hide further away. Suddenly uncomfortable with being called adorable, she's feeling self-conscious about questions she's unsure she wants answered. She shakes her head in response, turning her gaze away from her and prancing softly on her toes. ”Shhh, don't joke. You play so rough! I thought you were gone for a moment!” She remembers jumping up from the bleacher and gasping as he was socked in the face. “I thought I could handle it, I thought I could be so New York... but it's really cold, these jeans were such a bad call,” she looks down to examine her knees, which have turned a lilac pink in a few short minutes. Heat radiates off him and she moves in closer to his embrace, curling her arms in his jacket and around his torso. “I don't believe for a second that Mohammed is the most common name, they clearly haven't heard of a Julia,” she murmurs against his chest, taking a peak out of his grip to see a silver Toyota pull up. “Is that him? That looks like an Uber,” Julia falls from his grip, clasping on to his tattooed hand as she moves towards the car. “Hi, are you Mohammed?” she asks into the open car window, a dark skinned man replies yes and she smiles brightly. “I'm Julia, this is Oliver,” she swings open the passenger door and slides across the seat. “Are you busy tonight? It's so cold, I bet you're busy,” she entertains the driver by chatting away, waiting for Ollie to bump in and give a little direction. Her cold hand begins to feel warmer in his, and she rests their knitted hands on her tiny thigh. ................................................................... music: elliot smith notes: i did it.

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Goosebumps creep up Ollie's arms under the thin fabric of his sweatshirt, the adrenaline from the fight finally starting to wane and leaving him more exposed to the elements. As much as he didn't tend to feel the cold, wandering around New York in a sweatshirt now that it was officially November had been a stupid idea, one brought about by a characteristic lack of forward thinking. The future was something that he tended to ignore until it was the present, stumbling through life with as few cares as humanly possible. Whilst most people who met him tended to assume he was just an extraordinarily breezy, happy go lucky kind of figure, the truth was that any pressures in Ollie's life were felt immensely. This had led him to avoiding stressful situations altogether, writing school off and skipping college, as well as searching out a career where he could keep his own hours and remain accountable only to himself. Nowhere was his pressure averse nature more present than when the subject of his father came up-- despite ten years of distance, he had not even begun to come to terms with his grief. The thought of his dad threatening to creep up on him as it so often did, Ollie did what came so naturally to him and suppressed it before it could manifest, a bright smile on his face and his brain working overtime to think of alternative subjects. He listens to her as she recounts her horror at his beating, his smile fading but still present. "It was good of you to come." It sounds so glib, he stops walking for a moment and looks at her properly. "I mean that, I really appreciate you being there for me. Couldn't have won without you!" Laughing again as he follows her eyes to her oddly coloured knees, he shakes his head. "Rookie mistake. If you didn't bring anything warmer I'll lend you a sweater tomorrow, you'll drown in it but at least you won't catch frostbite." He nods at her comment, seeing as he too knows the plight of having a common name. "Can't say I've met many Julias who drive an Uber though. Have you considered that as an alternative to modelling? Might be easier than standing around being beautiful all day." Before long he's being dragged inside a cab, the sound of Julia chatting away providing a nice, lulling background noise as they drive. They're a little ways from his apartment and he holds up the app to show her, a squiggly line showing their route and the promise of it being a full 35 minutes at least. "I didn't think anywhere in New York took 35 minutes to get to... maybe we should have got Uberpool." He looks at her, unable to stop himself from reaching across and ruffling her hair with his free hand. "Though I wouldn't want to share you. Isn't she the cutest thing?" he asks Mohammed, who laughs awkwardly, clearly unsure of the right answer. Ollie laughs too, squeezing her hand in his. "Yeah, definitely the cutest." ................................................... music: deadly women. best show. notes: i'm proud of u. ollie is not gonna stop with the cute thing.

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She cocks her head at his thanks and frowns a little when he redirects his tone of voice, she's not sure if this is a new thing or if that second guessing has always been there. Turning something genuine into a laugh is something she's guilty of too, and it's very much a shield of sorts. She likes people to know she cares about them but then there's an deep rooted fear that if they know she cares too much they'll pedal rejection. Julia's talented at pretending to have complex feelings. She's never afraid to be loud about her love, she's always enthusiastic about every individual's qualities. But when it came to being real with someone, she rarely became overly exposed. This was obviously the reason why she quickly faded from the scene when she and Oliver had slept together. Vulnerability was terrifying. “Hey! Modelling is hard,” she retorts, snaking from his grip and raising a nude fingernail to her plump lips, “it took me ages to perfect this blue steel.” She puckers her face a little and then loosens it with a laugh. Modelling in all honesty wasn't difficult for Julia. It was easy to pout and pretend to have fun, a lot of her shoots didn't require being sexy or contouring her body in weird poses. Booking the job and being in tip top shape were hard. Preparing yourself for rejection and expecting there to be there to be someone both prettier as well as more charismatic, those were hard. Mohammed replies that it hasn't been too bad. She's never met an Uber driver that's admitted to it being busy, but in fairness the streets this far outside the city core seemed empty. She peers into the phone, the glow of blue hitting her fair features and her eyes widen. Dramatically she falls back onto the backrest, “that long? What are we going to do!” she's serious, her fingers are already fidgety and she's squeezing Oliver's tightly. Feeling Ollie graze his hand through her golden hair she quickly bats him off, “stop!” with her spare hand she holds him down. “I don't know, you're tipping the scale.. don't you think Mohammed? He's definitely cuter!” she rolls her eyes at Ollie, ruffles his much shorter hair. “Mohammed, do you know any car games? Have you ever played that one where you put funny names to the license plate? Like that one, FYD 1447, that'd be Fix Your...” she glances at Oliver, thinks about saying dick but holds her tongue, “Door.” ................................................................... music: bright eyes. notes: this has been a v productive day.

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Even six months ago Ollie wouldn't have been able to imagine this, his being here with Julia and not Olivia. Inseparable since the age of twelve, he was missing the girl more than he missed his actual twin. But when he was with Julia, literally physically around her, he realized he hadn't been plagued by thoughts of his estranged best friend. It made him all the more grateful to the younger girl. Laughter comes easily as she poses for him, a perfect fingernail poised in front of perfect lips. It was pretty remarkable that she was giving him the time of day, at least as far as he was concerned. "Oh yeah. I can see that a lot of work went into that, whatever they're paying you isn't enough. Are you guys unionized?" Before long they're in the cab and even he has to admit it provides a welcome respite from the cold. Cupping his hands together and blowing into them, he rubs them against each other, urging warmth into his red tinged fingers. His knuckles are stiff and sore from the fight but he can't help but momentarily wonder about taking up bare knuckle boxing, looking at his hands and imaging how red they'd be now, cuts across his joints and the stiffness that would accompany them. It was a tempting idea. By comparison fighting with gloves seemed like a weak move, a modern affectation. Thankfully Julia pulls him out of his thoughts before he can settle on them for too long, her complaints about the journey bringing yet another smile to his face. Childlike indeed, and he knew where she was coming from. His hand is batted away, her silky hair falling through his fingers she brushes him off. His brow furrows at her car game, an unintentional laugh following it. "I've literally never, in my whole entire life full of long car rides, heard of that game. Are you sure you didn't just make it up?" His eyebrow tilts at her pause, a sly grin spreading across his face. Since they had turned sexual for real the conversation very rarely turned sexual jokingly, given how scared he was of spooking her and making things awkward again. Really, this was the closest they'd got. Another laugh spills from Ollie's lungs as he shakes his head. "Fix Your Door? Really? I'm not playing this game, I refuse to believe that even a six year old would play this game. Instead," he looks her dead in the eye, a glint of mischievousness in his. "Let's play truth or dare."  ................................................... music: tchaikovsky. notes: it's honestly like i forgot the english language? worst one so far, so sorry.

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Heat blasts from the vents of the Toyota, turning her already blushed cheeks a touch more rouge. She lays her hands out in the airflow and moves her fingers to recirculate her blood flow, her grandmother's tiny engagement ring glimmers on her right hand. Mohammed laughs at her joke and she smiles widely, feeling successfully funny. With toothy grin in place she turns to Oliver and raises her eyebrows, “it is a game, and it's a good game, even Mohammed thinks so!” Julia's sapphire eyes stare out the window, she focuses on the license plates on passing cars and searches for her next victim. “Flipper Wins Tennis,” she points at a passing red Buick, “why are these all 'F's?” After a still summer in California, this visit to a short-lived habit is welcomed. July and August had been a silly affair, the most fun she had was at a three day festival outside Sacramento and even that had proven not that fun. She'd outgrown old friends or perhaps they'd outgrown her. People who she used to spend so much time laughing and crying with had just become emotionless. Out of boredom she had rekindled with an old boyfriend, but when it was time to go at the end of August, neither of them were broken hearted over it. Her mother's disease had only worsened and that was devastating, as she didn't think it could possibly get worse. Before she left for home they settled her in a retirement home. She was sad with her mom's circumstances and guilty over the fact that she had run away to New York. Summer had been a memorable trainwreck. “It's fun!” she defends herself, pointing at a passing pick-up, “try it! ADL 4681... Adult Dolphins Learn, I don't know why all that's coming up in my head are dolphins!” She wrinkles her nose at his suggestion of truth or dare, nerves begin to swirl in the pit of her stomach. Truth or dare, the game she both loved and loathed as a child. Julia bites her lip apprehensively, “okay... truth, be gentle.” ................................................................... music: so ashamed i won't even say. notes: a v bad post