. hopeless wanderer

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... She feels tiny in his arms, her body hunched over and stiff. It was in stark comparison to the embraces they used to share, when they would melt into each other lazily, long limbs intertwined, her face always managing to find the crook of his neck and his arm holding her lithe frame against his sturdier one. In many ways he had learnt how to be a boyfriend from his years with Ana, and even now, when he found himself sprawled out on his couch watching Netflix with Ellie, it felt like a weak imitation of those teenaged days all those years ago. It never seemed to fit as well, her body never melded into his in quite the same way that Ana's always had-- now that she was stiff in his arms he realised that may not be down to nature, but down to how well she had adapted herself to him. Briefly, and not for the first time today, he felt an intense stab of melancholy over what they had lost. She makes a weak excuse and he laughs, much more warmly than he had laughed before. It was true that she was the less confrontational of the two, though as he had always been fond of reminding her it took two to tango, and he couldn't very well argue all on his own. Not that he wouldn't make a good go of it. He rubbed her back affectionately, some of the stiffness in his manner easing as she softened. "I don't have any antihistamines on me," he said, his tone laden with faux remorse, "so I guess I'm gonna have to lay off the confrontation and hope that clears it up. Are you feeling any better? The shots weren't your best idea, in retrospect." Yet again he waves her comments away, shaking his head. "Nah. I'm worse on caffeine, just as much of an asshole but a hyped up one. Intolerable." Her next comments hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. Confused he could understand, but jealous? Bitter? Of course the possibility of these things being true hadn't escaped him, the suspicion of their possible existence had in fact been the whole reason he had felt such a strong impetus to pour his heart out mere moments ago, but to have them so clearly confirmed threw him for a loop. Visually Ana was an expressive person, her big brown eyes spelling out much of what she was thinking and feeling. Cormac tended to be the more verbal partner. Though often quiet, he would be inscrutable for such long stretches of time that eventually Ana would be forced into asking him his thoughts and feelings, when he would be unfalteringly honest in response. This worked well for the majority of their relationship, with the more surefooted Ana less in need of constant reassurance, whilst Mack benefitted from these small, but regular, visual cues. It takes him a long time to think of something to say.  "It's insane that you would be jealous. She's obnoxiously jealous of you, even started an argument with my mom once because she said she can't see her without her bringing you up. It's been a pretty big sticking point between us, actually." ................................................... music: beethoven notes: poop i am sry

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When one read the first few chapters of her life, her naive reactions would suddenly make sense. It wasn't victim that Ana so often played, but instead pure and simple nativity. A softness that made her tend to see the good in others and an unfathomable trust in goodness, that left her confused and hurt when bad things eventually happened. She was the type that could lie when someone begged for money and instead had to hand over all the change she held in her wallet, with the certainty that the homeless wouldn't spend it on unnecessary things. With her mother being a nurse and her father being a police officer, there was little privilege of wealth. They attained what they needed though the love and support for each other. Ana and Jonathan were often coddled by both parents, more so Ana than Jon. She was constantly being reassured with hugs by her mother, and her father was always worried for her safety. Of course she was aware that bad things did happen, but she was sheltered in the sense that she thought as long as she played by the rules that she would leave unscathed. Going to Thailand helped this very little, as the good nature of Thais and the beauty of the islands only added to the dreamland life was. So by speaking so romantically in past speech, she was certain that sense of magic would smooth out the lumps of the conversation. But this didn't happen. As she had been burnt long ago in the past, and even just five minutes ago, she's hesitant to reach forward to touch his bright flame. Her body becomes softer as he rubs her back, like a scared rabbit who stops shaking once it settles into the rhythm of a pat. ”If you stop, I'll stop,” she smiles faintly as she looks back up at him, ”truthfully I feel like I could use another drink.” Ana laughs a little, her mind drifting up a few floors to her apartment, where a bottle of red wine nests neatly on the counter top. Between her last statement and his next, there's a long silence. There's something about it that is less awkward and more thoughtful, nevertheless she finds herself seeking some kind of okayness. Her hand reachies and her fingers wrap delicately with his. His hand is like cold marble, she's shocked at how cold it is and reacts by quickly folding both their hands in her coat pocket. ”Of course I'm jealous. I loved you to bits, and even if you did a dickish thing, it could hardly cancel out every feeling I had,” she smiles quite warmly, attempting to keep the tension from making it's way back in, ”I told you that I'd always love you, right? I know we were kids, but those words held value. She taps her foot as a nervous habit, her nose scrunches and she gives her head another shake, ”I can't believe she'd pick a fight with your mom though. I couldn't be mad at that woman even if she was one of those Trump supporters who Facebook comments on every remotely Democratic post.” ................................................... music: silence notes: 50% better.

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... It feels as though the temperature has dropped, but then that could just be the hot stinging sensation easing from his cheek. Even so, Cormac is reluctant to spend much more time out in the cold like this, mainly because he feels Ana hopelessly unprepared. Glancing at her outfit, he has to stifle a roll of the eye at how insubstantial it was, so light in opposition to his heavy wool coat. You would have thought that being used to more tropical climes, she would have found this weather unbearable, but even in their youth she had been stoic about the weather in a way he was not, and he had never quite figured out of this was a show of strength or if she truly just did not feel it the way he did. Maybe he was more thin skinned than he thought. He feels her ease into his touch and realizes that he's easing too, tension that had knotted between his shoulder blades dissipating almost before he had the chance to notice it was there. Taking this opportunity to solidify their peace agreement, he pulled her in closer to him, an arm around her shoulder. He wondered what this must look like to any spectators that may have been watching from the rafters of the apartment blocks above them, the shouting, the slapping, the slouchy, awkward reunion hug. He imagined they looked just like any other couple having a tiff. "You sure that's a good idea? I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you're one hell of a flirty drunk," he says, a coy grin spreading across his boyish features. If only it were true.  Stood on the sidewalk, Cormac is thinking long and hard about what to say next. As ever he is guided by a desire to be as honest as possible, but this subject is a touchy one for the both of them, and if today's events are anything to go by he thinks he needs to be cautious in how he approaches his response. As he's thinking a warm hand creeps around his, making his heart beat hard against his ribcage, a rush of affection hitting him so hard he's sure that he would kiss her if only they hadn't been in such a public place. He swallows it down. "I loved you too," he says quietly, feeling a need to repeat this since he'd denied it not long ago. "So much so it made me crazy." She keeps talking and he can't look at her, his throat feeling dry, his heart going ever crazier in his ribcage. He can't take it anymore, the desire-- no, need to kiss her seizing him so violently that he's about to drag her into an alley, to push her up against the wall and let his lips crash into hers. But just as he's about to give in, she mentions his mom, and he laughs, his blood cooling. "Tell me about it. Let's get you that drink." ................................................... music: beethoven notes: urs was so good!! mine was not. i gave you  Z E R O.

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With each reassuring word she spoke she felt the moment intensify. Her eyes softened as she looked at him and she watched as his gaze pulled away from hers, not in a cruel way but in a thoughtful way. As if he was trying to think of a strategy that would maybe benefit them both, as least she thought that's what he may be thinking. Her amber eyes surveyed his features, wishing that she could dig into his mind and discover what he was thinking. Had she said love too many times? She feels his pulse rush through their connected hands and wonders if it's hers that's racing that quickly, and she's just playing a game with herself. Her fingers squeeze his comfortably, she tries back up what she's saying with the supportive brace of her hand. What is she saying? It's a massive betrayal on friendship with Ellie, though that may have died the day she left Washington. These words could do more harm than good, in fact by the time they left her lips she was certain that they would. Being so very close to Cormac after years of not seeing him was beyond surreal. As they frames fit together and leaned into each other, it was a reminder that what they shared couldn't be dismissed by youth. Ana is so filled with an overwhelming sensation of forgotten affection that when he supports her reassurance of love and it becomes mutuel, she's overstepping boundaries. She springs up to give an affectionate peck on the cheek, ”oh good, I felt like such an idiot earlier,” her hand is still in his and a sweet smile has grown on her face. ”We can't go back in there for at least a month,” she nods towards the bar, their catfish logo casts a yellowish light on her face. The bartender probably didn't even know what to think when she scurried out. Her insecure mind imagines that he's chatting with the kitchen staff about the crazy Croatian girl and her poor innocent boyfriend. ”Here, we'll go up there,” her eyes point at her apartment building and rise to the fifth floor. Her suggestion of heading back to her apartment didn't seem that awkward in her head. It was certainly uncomfortable in a sense that'd they'd be completely alone, with no passing cars or bar patrons to distract their eyes. But it wasn't totally odd because the apartment wasn't hers, and it was very evident this wasn't her home. Her roommate had very funny taste. With inspirational quotes that seemed to fill each wall, corny wine glasses, and some kind of single girl pride (despite her having a boyfriend of four years). Everything in the apartment could be bought off Etsy or Society6. ”Nothing in here's mine,” she feels the need to defend herself as they walk in, ”except that, that's mine." A slender finger points to Joan Didion's Year of Magical Thinking, a memoir she has read the first thirty pages of half a dozen times. ”There's wine, I think there's a Coors Light in the fridge, I have a bottle of Christmas gin in the room there,” she rambles on, ”Bluetooth speaker there.. make yourself at home.” ................................................... music: silence notes: I wrote this on my phone at work bc I'm obsessed and I couldn't wait to reply.

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... Her hand is slender and warm in his much larger, colder one, confirming his earlier theory that her blood must run warmer than his. Even here in the arctic chill of January in New York, she was underdressed and significantly more underweight than he, and yet there her hand was, warm as a hot water bottle when compared to his. He wondered if maybe he had died and this was all a dream. It would not surprise him one bit if this was the extent of his subconscious concept of heaven, stretching not to nectar on Mount Olympus but only to a dusty Brooklyn street, his hand intertwined with that of his teenage girlfriend. It would almost be sad if he wasn't so utterly, utterly content in that moment, finally finding a comfort he had not known in years in being so hospitably tolerated by the woman he thought would never forgive him. Her lips brush against the cheek she had slapped not long ago, and he can't help but laugh in the contrast of her reactions. It was so like them to operate in these extremes, their passion for each other bringing a level of intensity to even the most mundane of exchanges. "Don't get me wrong, you're still an idiot," he said, looking at her with as much seriousness as he could muster, though he could only maintain the joke for a few seconds before his face broke out into a broad grin. Before he can get his head around what's happening he's being dragged up to her apartment, and it's with an odd mix of glee and horror that he finds she lives just across the hall from Greg and Dana. How deliciously ironic. Finding himself within her apartment, he awkwardly glances around, not sure what to do with himself. At least until he picks up a mug, cursive text emblazoned on the side. 'Be yourself... unless you can be Beyonce, then be Beyonce' it reads, and he reads it aloud, as if she should be ashamed to share an apartment with such an item. "Oh Ana. Is this what it's come to?" Unsure of what to do with himself, he falls back onto the couch, hoping she'll take the lead. It is an uncomfortable situation in so many ways-- the place is so obviously not hers, she was so obviously unsure of how to conduct herself, and he was so obviously not supposed to be there. Still, he was glad that things had seemed to calm down between them. He leaned back on the couch, feigning a level of comfort he most certainly did not feel. "What the fuck is a Christmas gin? Is it gingerbread flavored? You know what, don't answer that. Wine's fine. " He leaned over to pick up the book she had lain claim to, eager to get an insight into her interests. He regretted it immediately. Putting the book down, he glanced around the room, absorbing everything from the stylised Game of Thrones artwork on the walls to the celebrity autobiographies on the shelf. "Is it weird, living here? You must feel like a ghost, there's barely an echo of you in the place." ................................................... music: deadly women notes: i'm a bit drunk... praying it did not show. 3 pages though! well into 3 pages!!

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Never in six years did she think she'd be welcoming Cormac O'Connell into her house. Well, not her house, but you get the idea. Six years of attempting to disinfect him from her mind and here he was. Five minutes of surreal grocery talk, another five of small talk, ten of verbal fist fighting, five of making up and now he was in the front entrance of the little Brooklyn apartment she inhabited. She thinks momentarily of how she woke up with a clear head, having no idea that he was half a block away from her. Then how she was just right there making coffee, so naively not know what the day held. Even a little more than an hour ago, as she scoured the fridge for a bite.. he wasn't even in her mind. Now as he was here she knew she wouldn't forget that he was here. She'd wake up with a foggy head, make her coffee and retrace the steps he took into her sublet space. Ana would follow the memory every time she opened the cupboard for a wine glass. ”I think it's funny, it's so her,” she laughs as he turns the mug in his hand. She didn't move here with the intent of refurnishing. The girl who she was temporarily replacing had left on a year long foreign exchange in Australia and her roommate (who was now Ana's roommate) had put her stuff in storage. Lacey had said her things were tacky, which only made Ana completely curious as she didn't know what could get more tacky than this. In truth, Ana didn't own much. She was minimalist in such a way that she only hated dragging things around. Things she brought around with her were either small, priceless, legible, or could be worn. Possessions made you rooted and at the moment that was something she was very much not. Lacey's erratic basicness made up for all Ana didn't have. She watches him as he falls back on the couch, displacing a large 'the snuggle is real' blanket at the foot. Her fingers tape lightly on the fake marble counter top, listening to him mull over alcoholic decisions. ”No,” she interrupts, ”gifted gin. Not Christmas flavoured gin... wine it is.” She pulls off her jacket and hangs it neatly on the hook near the door. ”I'm sorry about these glasses,” she says before opening the cupboard to drag out two oversized wineglasses. One says, 'zero fucks' and the other says, 'she believed she could so she did'. She pours a heap of wine in both and carries them over. ”On the island I didn't have anything either.. a few pretty tapestries to cover up the wall, those are in my room,” she passes a glass off to him and plops down on the opposite side of the couch. ”I love this, because it's so very her,” she holds the quoted glass for him to read and laughs, ”but I don't like the idea of random, so I don't hoard random things. A book, but I'll give that to a friend to read once I'm done with it. Those tapestries, because they carry a good memory. I have my grandmother's wedding ring too.. only small, justifiable things. I think if I were to lose anything I had, I'd be very sad. Eventually when I have my own nook, I'll collect.” She takes a slow sip of wine, her lips turning a quick cherry, ”it's kind of like Hitchcock had been directing our lives.” She references the opening scene of Rear Window, ”this whole time I've been in this window and you've been right down the road in a whole other window.” ................................................... music: lisa hannigan. notes: you passed the sober test. 3 PAGES.

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... There's a small grin on his face as he continues to look around, every square inch of the place offering up some new knick knack that very conspicuously was not one of Ana's. Then again, did he really know what her taste would be like now? The last exemplification of it that he had seen was her teenaged bedroom, which was rather more tasteful than most but still that of a teenage girl, with a couple posters and her cheerleading pom poms discarded in the corner. In his head her bedroom here would look exactly the same, with the same photographs of his young self beaming out from the corner of mirrors and her bedside table. He felt a stab of pain at the idea of her taking those photos down, a mental image of what was surely a reality occurring to him for the first time now, all these years later in her Brooklyn apartment. She defends her friend and that cheers him, a small reminder of the loyalty he had forgotten she so fiercely had. Replacing the mug where he found it, he did his little half shrug, laughing. "Yeah, I mean, it's not wrong."  Slumping into the couch as she rummaged around the kitchen cupboards, he shouldered his coat off, the warmth of her apartment making it unbearable. As he's throwing it over the arm of the couch he reaches into its pocket, slipping his phone out for the first time that afternoon. Shit. Immediately he's greeted by a wall of notifications, some innocent enough - a missed call from his mom, a friend tagging him in a photo on Facebook - but some definitely alarming, such as the twelve missed calls from Ellie. Panic initially takes hold as he wonders whether something terrible happened (and god, how would he explain to her what had him so occupied that he couldn't come to her aid?), but as he opens the texts it abates to a deep irritation. No less than seven messages pile up on top of each other, the first a simple, "where the fuck are you', eventually building up to an essay of a text, detailing all the places she suspected he might be (none as bad as the reality), all the people she was going to call round (dead ends), and what she was going to do to him when he eventually resurfaced (not as much of a bluff as you might expect). Rolling his eyes, he typed back a quick, "stop being a psychopath, I have my own life", before locking his phone and abandoning it once more to the depths of his pocket, not caring that this would leave her truly apoplectic.  When he glances up she's stood over him, a novelty glass full of ruby red wine held outstretched before him. "Oh, you had better give me the zero fucks one," he grinned, reaching past her outstretched hand to retrieve it. She's talking and he turns to face her on the couch, watching the way her lips move, searching for old mannerisms under the bronzed veneer of her older self. They were all there and it made his heart ache to see them again, memories he thought lost to time. She mentions tapestries that are hanging in her room and he almost asks to see them, before realizing what an intimate thing it would be to invite himself into her bedroom, how awkwardly that could go. He keeps quiet, nodding along as she talks. "Same here. My place isn't so different to this, really... it's Ellie's, with a little corner given over to me as a space to study. Bookshelf, desk, that's about it." So strange to think that this was just a stones throw from where they were now - it felt like a million miles away. When she talks it's as if she read his mind. "It is. Both of us in apartments that aren't really our own, texting with no idea that we could probably shout out our windows and hear each other." He glanced down at his wine in its dishonest glass. The truth was that he gave many fucks. "It's been so many years, I honestly thought I'd never see you again." ................................................... music: mozart notes: i'm actually lolling at this apartment omg

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She's seeing his age this evening, especially now. He hadn't changed at all, but at the same time he had. Prickly facial hair had grown on his soft face, and the hair on his head, that was once so golden, had darkened into a dirty blonde. But he was still so very boyish, the way his ears pointed and his features were chiselled, he looked like a youthful Peter Pan. When he smiled, familiar dimples crinkled at the sides of his mouth and she felt a pang in her gut. Nostalgia rang at her heart and her hand immediately yearned to reach out to his close over his hand again. She resists and instead fulfills the need to touch by stretching her legs out beside him. She catches him looking at his phone and sees the guilt pour over. Ellie is texting, she doesn't even need or want to confirm this. Her own remorse takes over her conscience. She feels rotten thinking about Ellie. They haven't done anything, but the words that have narrated the night are certainly conflicting and harm inducing. She doesn't see the mean girl in high school when she pictures a worried Ellie, though she should as it's likely more accurate. She instead sees Cormac's fiance pacing in her beautifully decorated apartment, leaving caring voice mails with a distressed look on her face. Ana grabs her own phone from the outlet behind her, her eyes quickly addressing her work group chat and a random text from some Tinder guy, before connecting with the bluetooth to switch on some soft folk-rock. She then places it neatly back on the ground. Like Cormac's mind drifts back to her teenage bedroom, Ana's goes back to his. She can remember the shelves of books and DVD's, his itchy navy sheets, and later the football trophies that dotted the shelves as well. She recalls being in that room for the first time right before losing their virginites, she so nervously went around plucking books from the shelves to read the back cover. Now his room was likely Ellie-fied, for some reason her head pictures a bed covered in dozens of pillows. ”Did you ever have your own place? What did that look like?” surely he must have, as at twenty-five he must have rented a room somewhere in Brooklyn. Then again, Ana has no idea of the Ellie timeline. She smiles at the thought of peaking her head out and seeing his half a block down. ”I think I almost saw you once, a few Christmases ago. Jon and I were Christmas shopping and he ushered me out of a store pretty quickly,” she laughs, thinking about the ever so protective Jonathan Jr. ”Not much has changed... and by that I mean, everything has changed. But you haven't, and I haven't, and even now I can feel that we hardly have. The same, but different.” ................................................... music: johnny flynn notes: I give u NOTHING.

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... As soft folk-rock quietly fills the silence between them, Cormac can't help but roll his eyes. "Still at it with this shit?" he says, though not without a smile. The nostalgia of their music related debates had come back to him in an instant, all the times they had argued over the car stereo on road trips, or he had swapped out her CDs for his, Smiths discs lurking in deceptive sleeves. In truth their taste was remarkably similar and this was something their peers often found confusing, but the tiny, nearly imperceptible differences were a great source of pretend friction for the two. Many of their arguments went that way, appearing to be genuine at first glance but really being an elaborate pretence, the pair sharing in the secret that they were really two sides of the same coin. In fact he was sure that the whole milkshake debacle that had allegedly led to their demise was one of those arguments that started in jest, only to escalate when one party (and really, it was probably him) said something that tipped it a little too far, putting the sting of real venom into what was supposed to be a harmless exchange. For her part she was good at rising to the bait, and in the last few months he could recall their arguments being rather more serious than they used to be, the heat not being so much for show. It was a hard reality to remember, because usually they got on tremendously. Sunk into her slouchy couch, basic bitch wine glass in hand, he would be hard pressed to think of anyone he could be so comfortable with despite so many extraneous circumstances. He nods in response to her question. "Yeah, we only moved in together about ten months ago. Before then I was living in Williamsburg, a total shoebox, much smaller than this, but I liked it a lot. Organized chaos. My roomie was an aspiring actress, always had some ridiculous script she wanted me to read through with her. Really sweet girl." It's a warm memory and he realizes, with some sadness, just how much he misses those days. He had barely spoken to Camilla since he moved out, a tragedy he resolved to rectify as soon as he could. Fuck the fact that Ellie didn't like her. She mentions seeing almost seeing him and his eyes widen slightly. It's an odd feeling, to know that they were in such close proximity, that his former best friend had had to shield her from the mere sight of him... he takes a hefty sip of wine, melancholia tinging this whole exchange. "I'd probably have pissed my pants if I'd seen you. Would have been really dignified." He tries not to think about Jon, who he knows will never forgive him no matter how much his sister does. Understandably. Mulling over what she's said, he scratches at the stubble along his jaw. "You think we haven't changed? I would be worried if we hadn't changed since the age of seventeen, would seem a bit stunted." He knows what she means though, despite the fact that they've obviously physically matured, as well as now being real adults with jobs and apartments and responsibilities, these changes ultimately feel superficial when compared with the ease at which they've slipped into an old rapport. He pauses. Something's bothering him and though he doesn't want to start another argument by bringing it up, he knows he won't be able to sit comfortably without getting it out in the open. "Me saying all that shit about Ellie," he starts, though he realizes there's no point in beating around the bush. "About leaving Ellie, I mean." He looks at her, trying to study her face for a reaction, "what about that pissed you off so much? My lack of loyalty to her," he shifted uncomfortably, trying to force himself to say it, "... or the fact you didn't think I was being serious?" ................................................... music: bach notes: poop.

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Jonathan Jr. and her had always been very close. At only a year and a half apart, they were inseparable until they hit their teenage years. Even then, they were unnaturally close. While most siblings bicker and start petty little fights, the two Novaks got along like best friends. They were fiercely loyal toward each other and always willing to leave everything at the drop of a hat for each other. This included an allergy to peanuts (which Ana took on like her own allergy, banning the nut from their house despite peanut butter being her favourite treat), a girl named Madeline (whom Ana found unbearable to be around), Cormac, and recently Thailand. Cormac was perhaps the most difficult person to drop - not than Jon would admit this – he was so intertwined in both their lives. He was Jonathan's best guy friend and for him to pledge silence and stand protectively over Ana, that could not have been easy. His response to her music makes her grin slightly, ”did I tell you I saw Mumford live?? Of course I didn't, they were uh-maze-ing!” She gushes at him, her one hand popping open like a firework as she sounds out 'amazing'. She looks at him curiously as he explains a not too long ago past that she was absent for. His friend sounds like Emma Stone's character off La La Land, a movie obsession she's picked up to fill her lonely life in New York. She'd lost count of how many times she'd seen it in the past month. ”She sounds like La La Land!” she explains lovingly, as if a movie could be a person. Ana craves to listen to the soundtrack, but leaves it be for the sanity of the man across from her. ”That would have been so satisfying to see that,” a laugh fills her lungs. His next question makes her considerate. Her eyes fall to her bedazzled glass and she swishes it, watching waves cast crimson on the dome of the glass. She takes a generous sip, and curls her knees up to her chin. ”I don't know,” she trails out her answer to let him know that she's still thinking. She does know, but her mind is sorting out a less muddy answer. She looks down at her sock covered feet and her fingernails tap to the beat of the music. ”I think I purged you and refused to see you, because I knew if I had or if you asked me I'd be back with you in a split second,” she wraps her arms around her knee, ”and deleting you from every bit of me, that'd create this out-of-sight-out-of-mind thing. It didn't for a while, I woke up every day thinking about you for years.” She takes another sip, her mind still tries to sort jumbled words. ”Then one day I woke up and I didn't think about you, it felt like you were gone. It felt like I had beat it. Until I saw you, and then you said that, I realized it'd still be that easy to say yes. That's what made me upset.” ................................................... music: lisa hannigan notes: no comment

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... In the early days of their estrangement it had been easy to deflect blame onto Ana. After all, had she not plucked him from the crowd he would have continued his peaceful, unglamorous high school life, palling around with Jon, going unnoticed by the popular crowd. The way he talked about it now would make you think that he'd transitioned from geek to jock, but the truth was that life was never quite so black and white. He had been relatively popular in his own right, though with a less illustrious crowd - he was in a band, he went to parties on Fridays and he was never short of female attention. But Ana was a whole different league, and though she was something of an anomoly in that crowd herself, she propelled him to a level of status and popularity he had never envisaged for himself. Though intoxicated by it at first, the truth was that it did not suit him at all, and the superficiality of their shared circle had made him pine for the good old days. Without her in his life and plagued by guilt, it had been easy to develop some bitterness toward her for complicating things. Not that any bitterness remained. Most had ebbed away with the passage of time, and what had remained was wiped almost as soon as they started talking again. He held up a hand when she mentioned Mumford, making it clear that he would not be indulging the topic. Still, it's cute to see her animated about something. For the millionth time he wants to kiss her, and as before, he distracted himself with alcohol, the wine rich and slightly chalky against his teeth as he takes a sip. "Jesus, between Mumford and La La Land you're going to force me to make my excuses and leave. Don't say things like that, don't make me hate her."  He's teasing, continuing their age old tradition of his mocking her taste. Usually this was balanced by her mocking his irrational but obsessive belief in ghosts, or the weird little superstitious rituals he carried out to avoid bad luck-- nothing too out there, things like never sleeping on the side of the bed closer to a window, or throwing some salt over his shoulder whenever he spilled it. For a rationalistic PHD student, he could be rather insane. The room suddenly feels very still as she falls silent, apparently contemplating the question. He's dimly aware of the fact his phone will be absolutely blowing up with texts and calls in the pocket of his coat, that there was a pretty significant chance Ellie was threatening to call off the wedding as they spoke. All he could do was pray that she hadn't reached out to his mother or any of his friends, since they were none too fond of her besides. The second Ana speaks he forgets all about it again. What she says hits him square in the chest, winding him. It's all the more poignant for the childlike pose she's taken up, her knees rising to her body in what he knew to be a defensive posture, adopted usually in times of vulnerability. Before he can stop himself he's inched closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Without any spectators at all, it's a more intimate gesture than the hug they shared outside. He doesn't say anything for what feels like a very long time. Processing everything she's said, he's comparing her words to his feelings, trying to rationalise something he knows isn't rational but purely emotive.  "I don't think I can do it. I can't marry her." ................................................... music: tame impala notes: i feel like i'm really losing steam, i'm sorry!!

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Unlike Ana who seemed to fall right into high school stardom as soon as she picked up a pair of pom-poms, Jonathan Jr. was in the between crowd with Cormac. Not dubbed a high school loser, but also not a jock. Her brother was handsome in an intimidating way, like the male version of him but less sexualized than she was every made (this problem was because he lacked breasts). Jon didn't have time for popularity and preferred to become invisible in the crowd, only entertaining the attention of those he liked. An unhealthy obsession with Cormac began when Jon had picked Ana up from cheer practice and they stopped at Mack's house to pick something up, where at the say time his mother ended up invited them both for dinner. There was something in his mannerisms that made Ana go a fair bit goo-goo about him. His confident demeanour came across as modest, he was polite and attentive to those around him, and she just couldn't stop exaggerating her laughter around him. For a few weeks she followed him around like a puppy before pretty much forcing him to ask her out, 'you should go to spring fling' aka, 'you should bring me. She grins widely at his disdain for her likes, taking a swing of red. ”But, I'm frankly feeling nothing,” she sings the chorus from a La La Land softly, ”or it could be less than nothing! Hmm hmm. What a waste of a lovely night!” She leans back with that same childish grin on her face, ”if you'd seen it you could sing the Ryan Gosling bits.. maybe next time.” She's teasing. They feel relaxed, more so than they were in the past hour or so. Maybe it is because they've rediscovered and been reminded of each others parts. They've acted out the night seamlessly and in accordance to their usual chemistry. First the hellos, then the hate, and now the mutual adoration. There's a long but warm break after she finishes speaking. She's rolled up in the fetal position, her body feeling less insecure as she tightens her arms around her legs and sips slowly on her glass of wine. But then he's moving in and wrapping his arm around her, and then holding her to his frame. It comes a surprise but any tension she had has left her, and instead of retracting from his grip, she's leaning into it. The crook of her legs fall to his waist, and her head nestles softly into his chest. There's secondary thought about his fiance, but her selfish mind shoves it out quicker than it arrives. His next few words have her heart pounding erratically, ”you shouldn't.” She says it too quickly and her forehead rolls into his chest embarrassingly. ”I mean you shouldn't do what doesn't feel right,” her hand rests the glass of wine on the table and she sits up to face him. ”No, I mean you just shouldn't,” cautiously she gently rakes a hand through his blondish hair, ”I think you shouldn't, you should just stay here. Is it selfish?” ................................................... music: nocturnal animals ost. as i paused the film to write this. notes: i think we are almost done. THIS IS FINE.

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IT'S SO EASY TO LAUGH, SO EASY TO HATE IT TAKES GUTS TO BE GENTLE AND KIND. ................................................... It must have been strange for Jon when they first struck up a romance. Cormac had noticed that Ana was spending more time around them in the weeks and months before the spring fling, but he hadn't thought much of it-- she was close to her brother and he was protective of her, especially so when she wound up falling in with the popular crowd. Whilst he and Jon were not part of this crowd but also not in opposition to it, they both shared a belief that her friends were beneath her, shallow and often cruel in a way that she was not. It was a belief that only strengthened with his first hand experience. Still, he had been pleased that she seemed to be detaching from them and had no reason to think anything more of it. In reality, he'd been rather oblivious. In the few weeks before they became official he had noticed Jon losing patience with his sister, trying to get her to stay home instead of coming with him to Cormac's. He had been off with Cormac too, constantly bringing Ana up and gauging his friend's reaction, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when Mack failed to pick up the hints that were so obviously being dropped. The truth was he hadn't even begun to think of Ana as an option until she made him, and even then he'd found it hard to believe that a girl like her could be interested in a guy like him. But of course that was a superficial perspective. The more time he spent with her alone the more he could see how much they made sense together. Even now, as he's rolling his eyes and shaking his head at her referencing La La Land - at least, he assumes that's what she's doing, seeing as he had avoided it like the plague - and ah, yes, she confirms it. "You know I'm not a singer. Then again, I hear Gosling isn't so talented in that department either, so sure, next time." He finishes his wine, his white teeth cast ever so slightly purple by the fruity liquid. It's only now that he remembers how much he dislikes wine. Leaning over, he puts the glass down on the coffee table, ignoring the Barb from Stranger Things coaster he probably should have been using earlier.  With her in his arms he feels a strange contradiction in emotions, calmed by the closeness but panicked too, his heart hitting hard against his ribcage all over again. He wonders if she can hear it. There's a lump in his throat and he's very aware of a strange energy coursing through his body, as though charged with static electricity. The places where their bodies meet are especially charged, her legs against his waist, her head against his chest... he's exhilarated by it, he'd forgotten what it was like to feel this tremendous spark with someone. How it could take over your whole physiology. She rolls her face into his chest and her words vibrate against it, words that flood him with anxiety and excitement in equal measure. It feels like it's all to play for now, but that it's precarious - he doesn't know what to say, scared to break the moment but wanting to agree. Then she's looking at him, and her hand is in his hair, and something breaks in him and that's it, he's pulled her in close, kissing her frantically. Catching himself, he pulls away, not looking at her. "Fuck. Fuck. I'm sorry, I... I'm drunk. Fuck, I'm sorry." ................................................... music: tame impala still notes: I LOVE THAT MOVIE. and these 2!

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Like her father, who practically berated Cormac the day he became her boyfriend, Jonathan stood to protect his younger sister. It took him a year to settle into the routine of Cormac and Ana, before he could even sit in the same room as them. Ana even recalls literally crying to him about how he had to accept them because it wasn't going to go away. And for a couple years Jon joined them, every so often bringing a girl to tag along on their adventures, or sometimes he'd take third wheel. When it had ended, he shielded her from him. Ushered her out of stores and even silly things like blocking his phone from her when Cormac popped up on social media. But now as he faced his darkest moment, he wasn't here to sweep her out of that grocery store and way from the conflict. Her heart beats unpredictably. It's erratic, an abnormal rhythm, it feels as though a drum is hammering away inside her chest cavity. It disobeys her and she wants to leave it. The nativity of the situation is constant in her head. Her heart reaching to take, and her mind posting big red stop signs. Is she stupid? Is this a trap? This could not turn out well at all, for neither her or him. Ana's head drifts another direction, to Ellie once more. She thinks of her leaning up against Cormac, only to smell a whiff of Ana and becoming bloodthirsty, murderous. But she quickly shuts off the thought as it gets as far as Ellie axing down the apartment door. Then the heat completely takes them and his arms pull her closely, hungry lips meet hungry lips. She's taken by surprise and it's a second till she reacts, but when she does she melts. He shies away and his apologies pour out of him. Ana slowly nods and then shakes her head, ”it is selfish,” she answers her own question. Her fingers soothe the muscles of his neck, her heart still pounding loudly and about to steal away from her anxious mind. She shuts it off by telling herself that he started it and from there her fingertips dancing along his jawline. Her knees find their way to either side of him and she studies his face from the front, a frown pulls her brows ever so slightly. She dares to lean forward and kiss him, soft and slow. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, and her chest continues to beat viciously. When she sits back, her eyes try to read his, ”good?” ................................................... music: la la land again. oops. notes: srry srry gushy