Saturday, 10 September 2016


Clutching the last rays of sun for the day feels like plucking out daisies and wishing for someone to end up loving you at the end of the day. And nothing feels eternal, everything feels like it's dying and somehow everyone around feels calmer about the incoming doom of colder weather, everyone talking about how great it's going to be once the fields will be covered in snow, when the lakes are frozen and the fucking ponies will look horrified as ever. I roll over onto my stomach so that the houses are in view and I dread the passing summer, which was all mostly tucked in football practice. In the end it's something like all you've got. The surroundings feel very agoraphobic, as there seems to be no end in sight and there's kilometres until the nearest big town with a grocery store. It all becomes either a question of the bus or nagging about the car or a usual bike ride, because who doesn't mind killing around two hours here and back when the sky isn't pitch black and seems to have forgotten how the night looks.

It's about always having the same friends, which will gossip and hanging out at those who have the loosest parents which will allow alcohol, just because their parents had done the same and then it's all about making alcohol loosen tongues and sometimes it's bitter, sometimes it becomes a sour discussion of 'did my ex even love me anymore or did they ever?' Sometimes it's a very bitter remark and a few odd looks, but by the end it's just about drowning one's misery and my tongue isn't better than theirs and we just remind of small circles of society which lie in the neighbouring houses of perhaps the whole county.

The end of summer is like losing love. It happens so slowly and miserably, that when you look back you ask yourself if you were ever in love and it's not even something you want to think of. It will make you think of love you've even long lost. It's full of regrets. I roll back onto my back, so I can see the sky and I feel all the distractions of the weather arrange my thoughts in a chaotic order, allowing nothing to properly be thought of, because all is a deja vu and all answers were gotten last time, when I thought of an ex and I asked about it out loud and that had been enough.

Because someone else's drunk haze can be clarity and belief for me. And everything else will be a nuisance. I lay and watch the sky, how the clouds run fast with the tint becoming grayer and grayer and even some tears strike down from the sky, scratching the surface of the grass, but I pay no mind, until I finally hear some thunder and I decide that even if I were to play football in the rain, that gives no motivation for anything else. I walk back to the house, away from the lake, watching it and wondering how would it even feel to be struck down by lightning while rowing if that would even happen. I think about even taking the boat for a while and while I stand thinking, the rain stops and I just decide to kill time inside.

I wonder if roomming with people is just as bad as with parents, where you don't even drop by to say hello, just wander in and out, politely stating it at the beginning of the day during breakfast and the rest is just formality, where I'm supposed to behave and bring good grades, which sometimes doesn't happen and as the years start rolling by, I don't even know where does the rest go. I don't like thinking about the future, when the bubble ends of being in the same household. It's not that I don't want to move out, it's that I don't know what I'll do at all.

As I get back to my room, being on the unmade bed depresses me, staring at the empty ceiling with a few cracks. It reminds me of the age of the last time we had everything refurbished and all I know is that if I count aloud enough, it'll be time to get ready for the bus. I allow myself to slip away and soon it's time to pack, shoving the football shoes into the backpack and changing gingerly into the sports gear, reminding of an impending winter. I don't even bother to say goodbye, just not to interrupt any word which could be said from the reality TV show my parents are watching to kill time, like the rest of us. Neither do I ask for a ride into town.

I leave, walking slowly to the bus stop, looking around and mourning the death of summer for sure. Even if it's been a few days which had taken summer away already and locked it, it feels enough of a reason to be wearing all black and mourning. Once I'm out of sight, I take out a pack of cigarettes from my backpack and soon enough I get the lighter, flicking against the cigarette a few times before it catches fire and I can breathe easily. I turn around, just to make sure that I'm really alone among the trees. It's just the melancholy chasing me.

The bus is late as usual, but I am no longer going through my cigarette, so I just have to kill time kicking whatever had been left on the road from the trees or discarded items, looking around to make sure that no cars are around, as I even kick a lost registry plate. I wonder who had lost it for a brief while until the bus arrives and when it does, I look around briefly, so that I won't be disturbed in the middle of it, but the rest of my team rides different buses or gets a ride or just bikes their way into town.

In buses usually I sulk thinking of the long lost, how this year it'll be different with Brian not showing up on the other side of the fence, holding it and watching the game unravel and sometimes supportively say something when my team would score, but it rarely happens that I score, so I would understand his boredom from watching a midfielder, but he still would. My parents would show up back when I was a kid to the bigger ones, but that soon enough changed. I dreamt of taking the train to a bigger team, but some things just don't happen and I still enjoy it deeply, probably happy of living in a brief bubble which will break by the end of this year.

Sometimes I feel so idle that I contemplate ending everything, as I either row in the lake or sit by it, lying and feeling lazy enough to stretch my arm and feel the water. But I never have the guts and somehow I manage to get by day by day, even if I have no motivation to go forwards.

I have a desire to get another cigarette as I get off, but instead I just make myself go towards the field, slowly increasing my pace, to make sure that I'm not late and that I don't have to kick off my shoes as I'm walking. I look back, chewing on my bottom lip, to see that indeed my bus being late as usual made me the last one in most likely, and anxiety rises a bit. When I just started, I was aware of the bus being constantly late so I would pester my parents to drive me here. I was much younger as well, and I hated being behind in anything, even if I wasn't the brightest student in school. I was terrified, so I would study and now that fear is hanging above me again and since it's the last year it's even worse, with the pressure of everyone getting in somewhere and I would just avoid the subject with my parents.

There were some rumours here and there about people scouting our team if we were good enough, but sometimes I was so scared that I didn't want anything to work out, I just wanted to lay in the grass, hit by someone and allow the pain absorb my body and just keep watching the guys screaming at each other and somehow, nothing would change. That's what I wanted.

I wanted to be left alone, sometimes I didn't even want to play.

I keep walking, as I hear someone's fast footsteps behind me. I turn around to see a rather tall guy with curly hair. If I were him, I would look around to make sure the confused stare is aimed at me, but instead he knows that it's aimed at him.

“Hey, hold on.” And he motions to his own backpack, as if hinting that he might have something in it that would be my interest. I pause and wait for him to catch up. The tall guy just stretches his hand and points at my football shirt. “I didn't get to change yet, but I got it done.”

And he reaches for his backpack and right under the shoes, I see the bright orange colour of our team on his shirt. I blink, realizing that the striker and goal keeper indeed moved on, one went to become a doctor and the other went into economics or some other crap, which only made me ponder how come they even liked football in the first place. I kind of pictured everyone else just as lost as I am. At least the guys who I talked with on the team were like that, quiet and frankly only loud about who was better, Messi or Ronaldo. He grins at me, but I seem far less excited than he had expected.

“I'm Jack.” I glance at his shirt and indeed it does say Jack, which makes me ponder what would his last name be and how come he decided to push his first name on the shirt.

“I'm Jamie.” I say and think of a stupid comment on both of our names starting with J but I let it slide, just watching him curiously. After all it is another guy on our team and even if putting football asides, it's better to have another guy to think over, even if it will be a solid evening only, it will be at least something and have some quick play of whether he could be queer. Jack shakes my hand rather firmly, but all I do is start walking and he does so as well, without a need to catch up. I start feeling tense all of a sudden, just because there is someone new.

We start getting closer to the field and it's a mixture of guys already in their gear, while others are changing into their shoes and everyone seems to have decided to show up earlier besides us and one more, I believe. Someone could've just gotten lost in the same predictable streets of the town or on the way driving from a smaller town. We approach them as even the coach seems excited about the new striker, everyone quieting their bickering and eyes on. But it wouldn't be a bunch of assholes playing football if one wouldn't have opened his mouth.

“So you've met the queer then.” And word spreads quickly, maybe it had even been my mom who started the whole gossip round, saying that Brian was over and we were making out on the bed, which had her catching us. Then that lead to awkward conversations where I stated that I might possibly not like girls after all. There was just a sigh from them, as if they were disappointed in a gay son. It was better than what I had expected or what had been uttered from the mouths of few or the looks I'd get from the parents as if it were contagious.

“Hey, what did I tell you, we're all tolerant here. It's football, not some heterosexual division.” The coach quickly picked it up, but the problem is that the damage is done, I'll be known as the queer again, just because Alex had decided not to keep his shitty mouth closed. It's not like he meant much harm, but it's really a question of how can you not filter what you speak? I just bite my lip and give him a pissed off look, to which Alex shrugs and I look back at Jack, who seems to be dazing out while staring at me. I don't even know where he's from. But instead he snaps out of it, probably due to politeness. It's not like we talked even. He does slightly open his mouth to say something, but instead the coach catches up and starts telling us to warm up even if the goal keeper isn't here and I can still feel Jack staring at me as if I were an animal in a zoo. Well, the local queer.


This son of a bitch was so horrible to write. I had the idea of writing something about football for a really really long while and frankly I'm envious of those who know enough about football players to write about them, but alas I'm not one of them so I'm doing an AU of someone who I studied plenty. 

I also struggled thinking who to write it about and I was on the fence of Jamie/Jack or Milex. But I haven't written about Jamie/Jack in a really really long while and they're really high up on my pairings list, so I wanted to renew them and just give them a new story and one of the basis was the fact that I missed a story called 500 which I wrote a while back.

I really wanted to capture the small town feel which I didn't have in other stories, since I live next to one currently, so I wanted to squeeze out the setting. Also what helped me a lot was hearing an ex-crush talk about how it was to grow up in a small town, so those stories stayed with me long enough to write them down. There's some saying that never break up with a writer because they'll write about you or something like that, so there you go. I recently started thinking about it, because I'm half single and it was the first long crush in a long while, so that kind of came back and after I wrote that paragraph and talked about it briefly with Callie to calm myself down, it was gone again because a while had passed. 

I really overdid it with the setting I guess, because I really wanted to capture it and it's really long. 

The daisies was actually written as I was thinking of the beginning of You're Not Coming Back Again. 

I quite like the moment where Jamie asks about whether he had been loved and it was something which struck me down for days until I got the courage to talk about it and then the story takes a turn after I got my answer. I really have been writing this for a really long while, possibly the start of the month. I just kept getting tired and I would just write a few sentences here and there. 

I never had the lost feeling of where would I go when I was growing up. I kind of always knew, it was life which screwed me over and gave me other plans, but sometimes I'm left now with a what now and where will it all go. So in a way I guess I relate to teenagers with the whole sense of where will life take me now, but then I think we all have this sense of weird direction or unpredictable rather. 

I struggled with the plot. I wanted it to be love focused of course, just like anything else I write and I had to answer the question fast how would they meet and how would everything happen. It's actually turning out different than what I was expecting. But we'll see. 

I had the "you met the queer" idea for a couple of days and then I didn't know what I'd write, so the chapter usually ends when I don't know what else to write or have an idea of the next few scenes. I never plan much ahead, besides To Miles possibly. 

I got kind of tired of writing non accepting parents and I liked the whole being disappointed somewhere I got told about, so I used that. And I just wanted to write something which wouldn't deal with parental acceptance, because it's such a big theme over my works, so I wanted not to care about it for once and kind of show how it's supposed to be, well, minus the disappointment. 

I have no title, I'm still discussing it with Callie because I have no ideas. I just googled football terms to be honest.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me so because this was really a nightmare to write.

Thank you for all your support



Sunday, 28 August 2016

Relationship Values 9

I don't think people think much of the person who does the break up, because we are always portrayed as villains and there seems to be no notion that we are breaking up from the inside or from those who just walk away. Or maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better in a way. Because if you don't make yourself feel better, no one will. I don't think people understand the grief of being the one to do the final shot and to actually shoot something living. It's like releasing the spider to bite you sooner, it's being the one to pull the plug, because it's better to break up than to be broken up with. Because from that time, you don't see the other person as an item with yourself and you see all the quirks which irritate and that's all. It's stepping back when you weren't an item and before I had fallen in love, only now there's no love ahead and the glasses are long broken with the pink glass under one's heel.

I grasp onto him, as he gets my hair out of my eyes, so that it doesn't get drenched in tears and I just stare at him, gasping for air in the midst of a hysteria and watching him.

Why does the love never go away?

Why is it never a love story between us? Why is there a tainted past?

I want to be the one to pin him down, I want to be Jack and now make love to him.

I realize how messy I am with my hair, my shaking hands and my desire to feel his love again. But I still clutch him, as he pulls me closer, but I lean back, so that I can have a good look on what I'm missing and age barely touches him, he looks different on his Facebook photos, which age him and photos never did him justice. I start hiccuping and I don't let him go, grabbing onto his arms, as he tries to stand up.

“I'll just get some water for you, Alison. It'll be alright.” And that causes me to bawl even more. I'll never know if he even loves me anymore. I just tell myself that now he's holding me in his arms and it's not like he's avoiding my calls like he once did. Somehow my hysterias just get cut off short sometimes and I let him go, my breathing easing, but I still remain under the counter, pressing my head against the table and wondering if I could even tell him about Lana, even now. I don't know how does pure honesty trigger someone back in to sleep in the same bed, though.

It's as if I make a deal with myself that he'd get back to me or even consider, if I were to tell the damn truth for once. I just would paint Lana as a villain because I loved her too much to even state something else, because I couldn't face myself to say anything else other than filth and lies. Jamie pours some water and quickly gives it to me. He motions for me to drink it, as I just stare ahead, both hands on the poor glass. Jamie keeps standing and I just stand up myself, shaking and even spilling some water, but instead we are caught in an insane stare, as if his anger came back and he knows, coming back here, that I have never changed and I'm still the same, while he had made a living for himself.

I don't even know where to start.

I rub my eye and get mascara on my hands, as I sniff, looking down on it.

“I really loved you.” I don't look up, biting my lip. “Who am I kidding, I still love you.”

I see Jamie shift from one leg to another and I can't stand to even look at him in the face.

“Yeah, I choose you because you would never charge me. I'm literally fighting nail and teeth for this, I don't need more of my saving going elsewhere.” I keep looking down and wondering if he even wants my honesty, why am I crying about Lana and confessing to another man. “But it was mostly...”

I look up to see him concentrated and just as sad as I would like him to be.

“Mostly...” I loose my trail of thinking and sigh, rubbing my eyes. “Because I wanted to talk to you again. Even if it were just for a few days and you would never talk to me again. Because... it's like choosing to meet the love of your life-”

He tenses up.

“Once and for one day than not meeting them at all.” I sniff. I close my eyes, knowing what's about to happen next.

“You asked for a divorce on one morning, Alison. No explanation, nothing.” His own voice breaks and I can't stand to even look at him. “You claim you want to be alone, but you barely leave the house anymore. You've started drawing less and less-”

I start crying again and my hands are glued to my face. He doesn't touch me either because he doesn't love me or on the opposite loves me far too much.

“You haven't done a show in a while, you're still living off that one successful show you had, you sell some paintings here and there, but you're not doing anything big. Nothing like you've stated I was holding you back from...” I hear him do one step towards me, but my eyes are too blurry to see and I keep gasping to even hear him clearly. “Maybe you should've just admitted that-”

I'm sure Jamie is choosing the right words, making a break just to ruffle everything twice in his head.

“It was never what you wanted?” And he asks and he's hovering near me, as I put my shaking hands down and I want to desperately-

Let us be in a lie.

His hands are on both sides of me and he's caught me again. I look at him, trying to see any other outcome with his hands like this, before I fucking lean closer, my whole body trembling for his touch. I search for something else in his eyes, anything,

but he's just as desperately broken as I am.

We consume each other, hungrily and I don't even remember the taste of any other kisses, as this one just manages to shield them all. He grabs me and I know everything he's saying through kissing me, teeth, tongue and lips. It's not that the world gets painted black, it feels like a death kiss of desperation, when you know you've got some impending doom, but it lingers like an underlying taste, with his hands in my hair, as he keeps on kissing me, pushing me further against the counter, then breaking the kiss just to travel to my neck and suck on it.

I pull his hair. He doesn't stop and I moan. Both of us paralyzed at the sudden display of noise, but he eases, kissing my neck softer and probably now with his eyes opened, wondering what have we both done.

What have we done.

I regret not holding him on my lips, as he just kisses my neck one last time.

I regret not memorizing the kiss with the most lust I've seen, but he leans back and we're both heavily breathing. We would never have this while we were married, everything was happy and idyllic.

Jamie brings a hand to his mouth, as if trying to see if the kiss was real, as he just watches me, never looking anywhere else.

I could never find us in books, because no one would bother to write a queer couple. Now, I see. I just breathe heavier, because now we're both faced with a future where we decide where do we go now.

I still don't even know how to even admit to myself that I need him. I'm not ready, but I want to kiss him again, so where does the truth actually spit lies? Where is the lying truth? It's as if we could both call it a night to sleep on it.

I look at him.

It's only always me who needs the night to think.

I need to break him out of his bubble.

“I... Can't.” I say and he just sigh heavily, tensing up and crossing his arms. “I lied to you.”

Jamie tenses up even more.

“Not about us.” He eases.

“Lana.” I say and then my throat goes dry, as he just watches me confused. I raid the counter behind me for cigarettes even if I damn well know they are in my pocket, so instead he just stretches out a pack from his own pocket and hands me one. Then he fishes out the lighter from the same pocket, clicking it a few times before the flame finally emerges and then he allows it to lick the cigarette tip, before he gets one for himself just in case.

“What about your sister?” Jamie asks completely lost and bewildered still from the kiss.

I'm no longer crying and I think I've got a hickey on my neck from my ex-husband.


I was actually avoiding updating a different story which I've been super struggling with for a good while now and I felt like listening to Marina and the Diamonds so then the question arose, which story would be fitting and Callie suggested RV which kind of caught my eye. When I have no idea which story to pick up, Callie always comes to help me out xD 

I wrote this in one sitting and I'm sorry that it's a bit shorter than the previous chapter, but I quite enjoy how it turned out and whatnot. I kind of really went not knowing where to go and just kept writing and story telling, until I knew that I wanted them to kiss and Alison to speak about Lana. 

For some reason I've been recalling my previous relationship which was years ago, because I stumbled onto an old Arctic Monkeys song which reminded me of her (crazy times when I had a girlfriend, before I knew I was trans and gay) and I broke up with her because I couldn't take it anymore and kind of all that thinking gave way into the first chapter of this story. 

I listened to Marina all up to their kiss, which I think shows very explicitly when I was listening to The Cure xD I've kind of been on the topic of coming back to old lovers when it comes to fanfiction and whatnot, so it's been quite a reaccuring theme which I've been exploiting to the maximum. 

Jamie playing with Alison's hair and the overall hairplay came to my mind because of a gifset where there's Jamie fixing Alison's hair and Jack White as well. 

I like having Alison as nonbinary, which is just a headcanon I have and kind of I like writing the bloke and nb dynamic because I am in one with Callie so of course it strikes home for me. 

Callie is my editor and she nagged that I should write a bit more to make the ending far more dramatic than Alison just saying Lana's name, so that's where Jamie's sentence was added and I left the hickey line last because it was a good ending in my opinion. 

I'm super tired after doing this sprint and posting it, so I may have left out some things simply because I got tired xD

If you liked it, please tell me so:)

Thank you so much for your support



Thursday, 25 August 2016

Brian's Unfolded Chase Events 2

I lay with my eyes open the whole damn night up the point that I could paint the sky when it starts going lighter. Once it reaches the state when you no longer need artificial light, I dress up, hoping not to wake my parents up in any way. It becomes soon enough a habit to sneak out without any food, as if it's a good way to hallucinate, but in reality it's only because I don't want to wake them up and I can get much more food in a store, once it opens before school. I dress in the plain black uniform, wondering how come they skipped a chance to make it navy blue or some other bullshit. But instead it matches the nails I had chipped off nearly entirely through the course of the night.

I tried not to think much when it came to Jamie, but it's odd to have a lover I had never touched and only suspected which was queer. I end up missing someone who spoke out when it came to me. Now it's just silence, even when I show up in the girl's uniform to school and I wonder is it some sort of silent respect because he had told them that? I ended up buying more roses and placing them on his desk, pondering on his death.

No one really found out how come there was a body which had never drowned, never choked and never been killed laying there dead in the river. It just seemed to be a mystery which slipped from everyone's fingers and life just happened to go on. But I would end up pondering on his life far too much, eventually I had heard as I was smoking outside a gay bar, that he would show up around there or from another guy that he had kissed. It seemed that I was getting to know a dead man, as if he would show up next to me, smoking and telling me everything.

I end up walking around five a.m. when the dawn had started breaking the morning loose, reminding the clouds to start the chaos of hanging above us, as if they were all martyrs. I sit on the stairs of an old building which barely has any windows and a cafe from the other side of the city and as all old towns I wonder who inhabits everything. I just sit there, cigarette between teeth and suddenly the tears come to me, before I close my eyes and I keep them such, searching for a lighter, until I hear a flick and with my eyes still closed I welcome the light, inhaling slowly.

I smell far too many roses and the steps below me become much softer. It feels like entering a dream with a slow, melancholic kiss and I see him in front of me, the city becoming a softer shade of pink until it vanishes to a pink abyss and he's holding the lighter.

I exhale and he's gone, back to the city, until I turn around and I see him left of me. Standing and smoking, taller than me in heels. I just stare at him with awe, because he's literally a great mirage from the dead and I can only blame my sleep deprivation for it, as he motions for me to make way and I do so, as he checks to make sure my cigarette is still burning. He pokes my cigarette and eventually takes a silver lipstick out of his pocket, stretching it out to me.

I don't say anything and neither does he, smoking the cigarette in silence, as I hold the lipstick close, examining it but not opening it yet or breaking the package apart. Jamie looks at me very softly and even turns so that he can observe me and it's far too intimate, that I don't hold and break the seal of the lipstick, wondering if perhaps he had wanted me to wait until he would be gone. But it's too late as I open it and colours start flying out of it, making a whirl around me as he keeps watching me, exhaling, without even blinking possibly.

I feel myself become light weight, a strange feeling of comfort overwhelming me as I look up and I'm back in the pink void. My body seems as if it's shattering and fusing, some weird sense of pride taking over and magic like I've never felt before. As I open my eyes I'm back to the uniform, Jamie is gone and I'm holding a long sword in its big purple case. I turn around to see him clapping, nearly making the first question I'll ever ask him again why is he hiding behind me and why am I suddenly still in the skirt uniform. I don't even have the courage to ask him anything, just stare at him and wonder oh why did he die.

My cigarette is long gone with the staff apparently taking it as some prize, I assume as the dead Jamie walks up to me and claps as he does it, before putting his hand on my shoulder.

“You'll be the one to change the world.”


Sometimes I just panic terribly about posting stuff and today is unfortunately one of the days. I wrote this yesterday in one go and had it ready since then. I was just thinking and kind of felt like going back and picking up this story which frankly didn't get much more attention when it should've. 

It's just plain story telling with this one though.

I didn't really set this with some specific city in mind, when I was a kid I would dream a lot of the same town, not knowing it and each night I would take let's say a different turn to another street instead of the previous' time and that's how I kind of ended up exploring. 

Also I started thinking what if I did a Brian/Jamie story where I killed off Jamie in the beginning and then as I remembered this story (I write so much that I have to reread the written chapters to recall where I dropped off or something even what is even going on and since I jump from story to story writing one chapter or so only besides a few rare exceptions) I was pleased to see that my idea was already inhabited into this story. 

I chose a sword because fuck yeah Utena, really. 

I know this backstory is terribly short, but I really just went I'm going to continue this and I just sat and even if I struggled, I got this story down and yeah.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, just tell me about it:)

Thank you for all your support



Monday, 22 August 2016

No. 1 Party Anthem 9

I couldn't get the idea that he just saw me as a friend away from my mind. It's as if there was something else I wanted to unfold even if I knew that to Alex I was just a plain shag. So I had decided to kill some time and I was horny one night, making everything even more regretful which caused Jamie to sneak back into my bed, right after I had changed the sheets after the bad hookup. We even both smoked inside, Jamie more for company and laughing at the guy who had cum in under ten minutes, making it officially my worst Grindr shag and it wasn't even the shag which bothered me, but rather the fact that I had done it behind Alex's back and that somehow had made my brain to tick in odd ways, which only made Jamie hold me close and I knew that I had just loved him so long ago and now I was left dwelling on what to do with Alex.

“Miles, why don't you just close the whole damn story off, by telling him that you love him?” I glared at him. He only put his cigarette to his mouth, breathing the smoke out by looking upwards. “Okay, why don't you tell him that you like him, despite all his sick behaviour? I mean, you clearly want to try it out with him. What's stopping you?”

“Arielle?” I nearly laugh at his face and his reaction, but Jamie just shrugs.

“You clearly like him.” I see that he's going in circles to try and drill it into my head, but I try to push away the clearly bad hookup and the feelings of guilt with a boyfriend I don't even have. I try to avoid Jamie's dark green eyes, to make sure that I don't catch even more guilt of a different subject. My mind goes blank, just my body shivering and I don't feel Jamie stroking my back and reaching for another cigarette, as he lights another one for me as well. I still don't know how long will the taste last of trying someone else. All I see is how the day drastically took its turn and it's going darker now, reminding of a shallow winter end.

It takes me a while to call Alex and even then I don't really know what to say, before I call it feels like I'm holding an old receiver on the end and listening to the phone silence from both sides. I don't know how long this melancholy lasts as Jamie just ignores the text Brian had sent him without reading it, he deleted it and moved on. I wondered if I could be as single that way if Alex would've left me for good. And I know that I am attaching when nothing is really going on and we had barely talked and everything is physical.

I don't even move from my couch, just sitting there with the laptop besides me, reading useless information just to tone the brain down. I can't comprehend the days which are passing.

You're supposed to call your friends whenever you are feeling down or confused.

Alex is supposedly my friend.

But it feels far too confusing, I feel like I am terribly displeased where things are going, where it's only him who calls and we just pick it up wherever we had left it off sex-wise and that's it, I feel like I am an experimenting rat, even if Jamie is right and if he doesn't say it, I know that behind his eyes he thinks that I shouldn't have involved myself with this at all. It's like going back to a bad shag, it shouldn't be happening. I end up crying slightly, not much because I'm unused to it but because I've locked myself up for days and in between work I feel like I'm not glued together anymore, I can feel myself coming apart. I can no longer find things which entertain me and movies just irritate me along with books, which Jamie sometimes brings to tell me to try and read along with movie suggestions. If we do sit together and watch something I'm on my phone or I end up just looking away, not feeling anything. Even when he hugs me goodbye I don't feel any lost love anymore which I wished was mutual. I'm going bonkers.

I decide to even try being the silence on the receiver I am scared of and I call him. It takes a while for him to pick up, as I check the time and with this never ending darkness it's close to midnight, but I'm sure he's awake.

We never talk.

If he wants to be friends, fine.

Eventually I hear a rather careless hello and I hope I'm not distracting him from anything and I swear that I don't want it to be something like having sex with Arielle, but his breathing is even and he waits for me to say something, until I greet him back but at the same time, he just picks up.

“What's up, Miles?” I wish we were back to the said receiver time, where he wouldn't know that it were me and I could just listen to his breathing and then go to sleep, using it as a lullaby. But instead he knows that I'm calling and eventually I hear him drink from something and some movie in the back, soon enough I hear Arielle's laughter. I'm guessing it's a comedy.

I could call him over, after all Arielle does that all the time from what I've gathered from the man himself. I wondered how would it be to date someone so extroverted and obsessed with friends, but then whoever would have had to deal with Jamie being over all the time or back when Jamie was with Brian, it would have been an endless double date with all four of us together. I guess we all don't differ that much from others.

“I'm not feeling too well.” I confess rather gingerly, but possessively, really hoping to drag him over. I could see Alex looking back at Arielle, who would be immersed into her heterosexual movie. I wondered how is it like to even have a girlfriend, since I never really troubled much and how would it be like to have one today, but that sounds so bizarre that I could easier imagine Martians than me with a girlfriend.

“Oh... well.” Then Alex ponders and looks back at Arielle I presume, who now noticed that something is going on. I imagine everything rather vividly for me to stay sane. “You need anything? Anything I can help with?”

I smile as he asks and I rub my eye, which is still weird from the brief crying episode I had.

“Yeah, if you could come over that would be great. If that's... not too late for you.” I'm really playing all my cards and I hope that he doesn't really feel it. I hear him press me against some fabric, so it could be either his shirt or the material of the couch, as I imagine him asking Arielle, as all I hear is something muffled and I imagine her waving that it's alright. But it's not that easy, it actually takes a while where I become worried, that what if it is far too late and his girlfriend wouldn't let him out after all and I'm left to be alone and dragging Jamie over for the billionth time and hearing him complain that I should at least go out and buy some cigarettes, even if I had stocked up for the week. I wait a bit more and I feel like dropping the call, just because my anxiety reaches its peak.

But eventually he picks up the phone again and I hear his breathing once more.

“Yeah, I'll be right over.” And I hear some cheer in his voice, where I can't help but ask, why are you with your girlfriend then, if you're so cheerful to come to your lover?

I mean, friend with benefits. As I wait for him, I ponder and wonder how come we haven't talked that much of ourselves, how come we only ever talk about sex and that's it, if he wants to be friends so badly and I don't even know how to make both of us talk, because I'd be too nervous to talk first and he doesn't even want to do those steps.

“Great, thanks, I'll see you then.” I reply, feeling odd that I am literally the one igniting the fire which is supposed to take over the city in a ring, but somehow Arielle is still oblivious. Is it because we are both men? Would it be different if I were a woman, then? Is it because society is so oblivious to men having relationships among themselves that even cheating is something which just slips someone's mind.

I end up crying again, pondering if I need to go on some medication like Jamie goes on sometimes, but it could be simply because I happen to be too tired or maybe people cry rather often and I am just not notified of it, so when I cry once a year it's just a big deal. I know Jamie cries far more often, but I just end up under the list of people who rarely cry. I end up smoking two cigarettes in a row, going outside just to breathe the air instead of smoking next to the window and I feel a bit agoraphobic, not used to being outside of my small apartment which could've been some rich person's cupboard if I imagined hard enough. It's a nightmare to find a place to rent, so anything is up for grabs, even some cupboard and Jamie's place is nearly identical to mine, only with a bit more space which now is empty without Brian's discarded clothes and ruined make up here and there. I wonder how even is it to live without an old lover now. But I can't ask Jamie that, not while he is grieving at least. It's odd that love can be compared to death in some way, losing someone is always like death, it's like a small glimpse of how it feels to lose someone completely.

I remember once I got asked in class whether a parent's death hurts more or a parent's divorce and the answer was divorce, even if I protested the teacher, because the parent leaves, leaving the child wondering what had they done wrong and so on and so on. But wouldn't death be the same thing? If fate is a bunch of additions of our actions, wouldn't someone's death be the same thing? Why had we ran upon that person's death?

I rub my eyes, discarding the cigarette in the nearby trash bin, shivering at the sudden cold wind.

Alex should be here soon, since there is no traffic and frankly the buses are rather fast at this hour. Of course unless he missed the one he was supposed to get. But I end up waiting for him outside, sitting next to the building, freezing, but allowing myself to keep sitting here, even if I could catch a cold. I wish I had a pet, but then I would have to take care of it as well and that is fucking hard, because I can't even get myself to go outside these days. Maybe I just want to be loved. I severely hold from getting a third cigarette, when I see a familiar man in a leather jacket, probably freezing as well under all the romantic street lights. He waves at me and we are no lovers to run to each other.

“You look like shit.” He raises his voice, as he approaches me and gives me a brief pat on the back, before sitting besides me. “You alright?”

I put my head on his shoulder and he doesn't move it away. I don't know what's with me, but I can't really tell him that I started thinking of you and suddenly the world became a gloomy place for me. Because if I were to tell that to someone they would just tell me to cry a river or ask if that were it? But sometimes the problem is dug under what the nails can reach. Maybe I am depressed all of a sudden and there is something wrong with me or I could just be sad and lovestruck, who knows.

“No, I haven't been too well recently.” I confess as Alex just turns his head and looks down on me. I glance at his lips. There I go again with the sexual tension and release. Well, he is a good fuck.

I don't even know where to start.

I want us to be lovers at least, but we've discussed it before and he said that we should be friends with benefits instead. I just sigh and somehow, he gets the hint that I need some silence with him, but all the does is get a cigarette and light it. Is this how friends would work as well? I'm used to being close with Jamie but we've always struggled with weird feelings, so we overstepped the barrier of closeness. But then, I'm fucking Alex so there is no sense of barriers of course. I could be fucking him right now and it would still be seen as friendly terms.

We hold our silence, but Alex decides to interrupt it.

“If you want to keep quiet, that's okay, but I just... want to make sure that you're okay, that's all.” Alex says and nudges me with his shoulder and pauses. “I forgot what I was going to say, but silence is okay too.”

And he pats me on the head.

All of a sudden I want affection, but I don't want sex, I don't want mindless fucking I could get out of any grindr hookup, I want to make love at least or even kiss him. So I pull him towards me and he kisses me even before I do, shifting closer to me to a more comofortable position as we both straighten up and make out, I see that he's seeing it as more passion making, so I try to slow down and eventually he gets the hint and does so as well. I can taste stars in his kissing-

Eventually we both get cold and laugh as we break the kiss.

“I think we should go back to yours, Miles.” He tells me and I just nod, standing up as he puts his arm around me and we just go inside, walking up the stairs and straight up to the apartment. Opening it, feels like freeing a can of worms all over again, because I can taste all the depression which I have been bottling up and not to mention completely stale air. I excuse the fact that some clothes are laying around in corners, just because the laundry bag is full, but Alex pays no attention, taking off his shoes, but sticking to his leather jacket for warmth for the time being. I grab a sweater from the floor and use it for warmth as I pull it on.

“Do you want some tea, maybe?” I ask him, as he nods and I know that we both need something warm for our stale hearts. So I get us both to the tiny part of the kitchen and Alex sits next to the small table, fiddling with a cigarette box, not forcing me to talk or anything, which I'd terribly thankful.

Do I even have the guts to even say anything at all?

But then I recall that I wanted to hear more about him, more than anything else. I bite my tongue, the right question popping in my head, as I turn around with both tea mugs and I'm sure he notices my shady smile, as he just nods at me, confused, pondering what do I have under my sleeve.

“Just because I'm depressed... and I feel like listening.” I get the courage to ask the right question as I observe him. He's deadly attractive with his quiff and well put attire compared to my old t-shirt which I rolled in all day today. “When did you first start thinking of guys?”

Alex laughs at me.

“Is this what you want to talk about, friend?” He asks, reminding me that we're supposed to be friends, but I seem to be cooking up all the right answers in my dumb head.

“Well, I need to get to know you better, before anything else happens.” I say and blow on the tea, just to keep myself occupied, as I wait for Alex to put sugar in his tea. Then it's my turn and he still hasn't spoken. I wonder how much of a late bloomer is he actually.

“Well...” And he keeps his mouth open to speak. “I was kind of always attracted to girls, it was only later that men came to me. It would just be... like oh, that guy is good looking. Or something like that. Then...”

He sighs.

“Once Arielle was out and I saw this really good looking guy, this was a few months ago. I really would just see attractive men until then, but never thought much. But this one guy which I saw on the underground got me thinking a lot. And I just wondered how would it feel you know...” He shrugs, looking away. “And that got me fired up. I wanked. It was good. Then I checked on porn.”

He taps the mug and rubs his nose, avoiding my gaze.

“Didn't you say you never wanked to a bloke?” I ask him, recalling our first conversation.

“I'm not stupid. I knew I'd be more attractive if I lied.” Alex huffs.

“Just how much gay porn did you watch?” I laugh at him.

“Enough, whenever Arielle would be gone.” He confesses, still looking at his mug, not raising his beautiful eyes. He brings the mug to his lips to blow on it. “I didn't think it would go this far. I thought I could go back to having a clean slate, okay?”

My heart stops briefly.

“I didn't know I'd enjoy gay sex so much.” He whines, putting his head on the table and looking at me. He never changed and I just seem to be praying for some relationship which I don't even want to utter.


 I honestly didn't think I'd be writing milex so fast, I thought that I needed far more time to heal. 

Basically what happened was that I was due to see Kills and TLSP on a festival and Kills cancelled due to Alison's health (I wouldn't have minded a solo Jamie concert, but people think differently xD) so it was just TLSP. Then on the day before there was some train system crash and on the day the trains were cancelled? It was some fucked up shit, so we didn't make it and that just sent me to a deep depressive hole which I'm still struggling to crawl out of, because I haven't had a holiday in ages and I had my parents over so that was a bunch of misgendering and other bullshit, so I really needed somewhere to unwind and that never happened. So that really fucked me over and I'm just starting to listen to a few TLSP songs again, but I just don't think of them touring, I pretend that it's 2014 again and I have no notion of them touring, because otherwise I go crazy. So it's been really rough. But I really love them and I enjoy the stories I write with them, so I really had to just see them as characters rather than performers as I was writing and it worked. 

And I dwell on my depression, because I blame myself a lot for even having it and having two people mock me for it isn't helping. So yeah. That's why I've been so hesitatant with milex stuff. 

But anyway, I'm slowly going back to normal, but at a terribly slow snail pace. 

I wrote this in a few sittings, because the last chapter was done in March a bunch of things happened like the dreaded hookup which screwed me over, so I would open the file and write a few lines, but it's only until yesterday where I sat and wrote the final 2.6 k xD along with today. I really felt on a roll and I wasn't forcing it or feeling tired, I just kept going because I felt like I had this story to tell which I was dying to tell and I know where I wanted this chapter to go and I didn't include everything in this chapter, so maybe I'll even write some more, who knows, but not today, 1.6 k is a bit too much for depressive me and don't forget this backstory.

I just added my sudden depressive fit here, even if I don't know if Miles has a depressive history, but it fit in the mood and I went along with it.

I kind of finished Blue/Jacket which was explicitly set in Stockholm and I kind of miss that, while this story is kind of set in Stockholm, but it could be anywhere, so I don't really add things which stick out, so I kind of pondered if I should make the setting far more explicit, but I don't, but then I think in We've all been broken. the setting is far more explicit, when they meet up next to the booze store for instance, so I don't know. I want to make the setting more subtle here and I kind of set stories in places I either know or live, obviously besides a few stories. But the AUs are surely places I've been to. 

As usual I ponder out loud, like Alex walking out to Miles and Arielle not thinking twice about it. I kind of like just thinking out loud when it comes to cheating here, I really ponder and open up the question of cheating here, don't I? 

The question in class was something I had gotten and I protested that I turned out okay, because I have divorced parents and all was well, so I kind of pondered on that question again. 

Another long sort of backstory and backbone to this chapter was a discussion I had with Callie, where I explicitly said that I was tired of other partners just losing themselves in me that I would have no notion of who they were anymore, because they wouldn't talk about themselves, so that question just ended up in this story. And with Callie, which is different to other partners, we both talk a lot about ourselves, while I get that as a heavy contrast with others. I don't know why, I don't feel like I'm overwhelming. 

I also wanted Alex to speak a lot about himself, but then I realized that before anything like that even happens, Miles needs to know the truth and what was going through Alex's mind. I kind of liked that he lied and is porn educated, which kind of makes the story far more ironic than it already is. 

Also shoutout to heartstruck Miles because he's a cutie. 

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did so, it'll make my day

Thank you for all your support



PDD or Hypoxyphilia 5

There are plenty of memories which you could swear were real, end up being just wrong assumptions of things and the more I think about composing music, the more anxious I get and ponder on drinking and not doing it sober with the sole fact that it would cure my anxiety and the more you drink the further you are away from getting drunk, so it just becomes a lolly to ease the nervousness. Even know when I pluck the feathers from the dead bird of a relationship, I ponder what was real and what was a blissful lie.

He kept captivating me, because it's not so often that you see a bloke that flamboyant even if we were in theatre class. My own hair was long and in dreads, but his was different and overall he didn't look like he even glanced twice at the scene I was in, he seemed to be some lost child of Bowie, but was far too real and didn't seem to be hiding from his sexuality.

One of the last things we ever did was have sex actually, I was far too pissed off at him and I couldn't bare the thought of even touching him, but we had pinned each other down. I recall how we just both kept making out, flipping over and somehow the anger was fading with each kiss, even if I knew that this was just a matter of time before all the petals would be gone from the flower.

I seemed to fear the future, on how would Brian act, because there is never a messenger from the future telling you that everything is alright. Even if I had juggled attraction to men in the past, I was a terribly late bloomer and I happened to still feel myself as a newbie, because I only had one partner while I could see Brian juggle with many men and break their hearts. I kind of liked drawing him like that with his bright make up I was sure was plenty of.

It wasn't much better when it came to courage when the lesson ended, indicating the short day to be over and Brian waving at me viciously and offering me a cigarette.

You're the first friend I've made here, actually.” He smiled at me, the vicious smile gone and something which I could sweep until I'd find attraction was there.

Once we were done, we just stared at each other and the anger came back.

I blink at his sudden confession, not feeling it not because he's lying but simply the fact that it doesn't seem like he would be a loner with all his bravado, but weren't we all loners and outsiders and I just thank him for the cigarette, as I inhale, thinking what to reply and am I really a friend, since he's been courting me all this time?

That's I guess lovely to hear.” I say and he just picks one of my dreads and tugs on it, grinning. I wonder how gay do I seem while sober as well and I hope he doesn't think that I'm one of those guys which go gay after a few beers, but neither is that a topic of conversation.

There's far too many tears on paper from loneliness, which he once filled, because he was there once.

I am.” I catch Brian's attention as he just plays on with my far longer hair than he has. “I'm interested in men.”

There's far too many lies that I'm over.

He's far too back into smiling viciously, as if I am prey.

I'm bisexual, actually. Had experience with both. Practising.”

There are so many old lovers I'll never draw again. So many realities I'll never cross again. They don't even have to be a creative outlet anymore, but they are the only thing that feeds. There's so many lovers.

If I'm the first friend he's had, how come he ended up tagging along to the squat? I ask that, to which he shrugs.

I heard there was an outsiders party, figured that I would want to join. After all, where else would I go?” He stated and we both start walking away from the university, still smoking and slowly mixing with the London's exhale of people. It's still far too early in the morning to be lunch and somehow the other days have it further on, but today was short, so we don't even reach lunch and there's nothing much to do when you're broke besides finding your own means of entertainment and I still didn't know where Brian laid in terms of that.

I was panicking as if I had my parents over and I had to hide all the condoms, as if they would say that I was explicitly having gay sex. I didn't know what would be so new about Brian compared to my previous lover. I didn't know what would differ, but I felt scared just because he seemed so radiant and I was terrified like a bunny in the headlights. I didn't speak of it of course, instead we just walked silently, Brian raising his eyebrows at me, probably sensing my fear.

Do you have any plans for today, then, Jamie?” He asks me as I just shrug, throwing out my cigarette in a nearby bin as we wait for the traffic light to go green and I don't even know where do you go after you admit that you're gay. I look at the traffic light, the red one, as if it were some sign that I wasn't ready yet because I had no idea how and where to go from now, but just like life it goes green and Brian keeps his grin.

I want something wild again. It's as if I had never loved anyone else.


It's been a good while, I haven't really been feeling very Brian/Jamie even if they're factually my ultimate OTP for every damn reason on this planet. I've been feeling awfully depressed and it kind of hit me really badly, so Callie being the loveliest person ever offered to do some roleplay with me and I'm quite strict about them, because I write paragraphs and paragraphs and I expect the same from my partner. And I don't roleplay that often these days, but I took the offer and it kind of stimulated me to keep writing during this depressive period even if our roleplay is between us and not going anywhere. But it really put me in the mood for some Brian/Jamie and I don't know how, but that inspired me to do totalitarian woollen hounds which doesn't have Brian at all, but anyway. 

I wrote this in one go, now I kind of feel starved for writing, so I've been writing loads everyday and going back to my teenage roots when I would stay awake but I'd write around 3 am, while by 3 am I am sound asleep usually or so, while now it's just in the deep evening close to midnight. 

I ended up writing the present rather easily actually, I've also been bitten by the Placebo bug so I went by with Without You I'm Nothing on repeat and that helped me along with watching old Placebo videos. The past was much harder to write since it's storytelling and guessing what had went on or doing headcanons really. 

Also going back to PDD was weird, because I had written it being mad at my ex, while now I don't really feel anything because it had been so long, maybe just lonely because I currently only have one partner with just weirdness around. 

The paragraph was supposed to be in the next chapter of totalitarian woollen hounds but I transferred it here because it seemed more fitting and that opened the gateway for me to start writing it again. I just needed to get myself angsty and that had been it. 

I pondered a lot on alcohol and inspiration because I seemed to writing better and more when I had one unit of booze and that made me ponder, so I kind of stuck that in the first paragraph. 

I randomly realized that I didn't mention Jamie's appearence until now, so here's to Jamie in dreads as he was in Blyth Power. Good stuff. 

I really missed this story and kind of consider it one of the best I've written, so I really love it.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, tell me about it, you'll make my day



Friday, 19 August 2016

totalitarian woollen hounds 2

I cough when I'm anxious, it just builds up and starts and sometimes ends up in vomit and usually I would turn on the faucet by then, it it hadn't stopped and then just sit on the floor of the bathroom, recollecting everything, not because I want to puke again, but just to calm down so that the same doesn't happen once I leave the bathroom. I have too many inner demons and possibly in a nicer world, I would tell people about them, but when it's survival and talking, I don't.

I excuse myself from other activities, because I know that tomorrow we will all go to the same supermarket and it'll be better because whoever I tag along with, they won't be lost again and asking for directions on the map, but rather go knowingly. I managed to score a window even if the room is as tiny to just fit enough the mattress and my backpack is on the end of it, everything still tightly packed and rolled to make space for the rest. I don't even feel hungry or excited, just nervous and I know that it goes from day to day and perhaps tomorrow I will be graced with something less terrifying of a mood.

I decide to lean outside the window, as I open it and stare at the passerby people, which seem to be used on what's going on in this side of Berlin. It feels awfully odd now that we're here for a brief while and in a few days we will play, making it a bit more usual and less dystopian where we just are doing what we're supposed to be doing. Plus, after the gig a little money never hurt anyone. I don't even know what to spend it on, standing on top of the mattress, wondering how little I look compared to the building and actually feeling my small frame for once.

I end up lighting a cigarette, which I had bought back in England, not shifted to German cigarettes just yet and exhaling the smoke outside, pondering a lot in how the world moves yet never changes, how everything seems to be stuck in this capitalistic twirl and only in the corners you'd see something else emerge from communism to anarchy, but even then I could only dream of a revolution on the days when I was depressed, when I was manic I would believe in everything and just lay down with insomnia shooting up my veins, telling me that all is possible if I fucking stand up and wake everyone else up.

Instead I just feel lonely today all of a sudden, but I feel like I've got enough if I just continue smoking and get food off someone for today, since I excused myself and gave some money to get me something and that should be it. I happen to be rubbish at cooking, but once I try it becomes a bit edible and that's probably enough. But when you grow up, you're simply left with the fact that you've got to survive somehow. When I just moved out, I wished there was some trust fund I had, which I could rely on, but there was nothing and I just left, hoping for a better world in London and then I just happened to run into the rest of Blyth Power, hearing about Joseph, since he was in The Mob, that caught my eye and I just went ahead with it. It seemed like a sudden change compared to politics and the air in my family's household.

What struck out to me was how people still kept in touch with their relatives and some would join up, saying that indeed there was nothing wrong with what we were doing and that this country was still in shambles and I would get confused and envious how could one even be close to parents. All I did was have fights from everything to my mom buying me leather shoes to how come I didn't have anyone to cling onto like a girlfriends with my dad and as time passed we would just see how distant we were. And that were it, I just left, allowing them not to think too much of me. But maybe it was selfish and young of me to think that they wouldn't think of me as much as they would of Sarah, because of course they would.

I leaned further out of the window, throwing the cigarette ash below and watching Alex, the guy I had met earlier walk out with hands in his pockets and a backpack, I saw him wait and stand there for a while, before teaming up with what I presumed was Wob and someone else, who I couldn't recognize from a distance, but Wob's hat gave it away and I recognized Alex because he stood there for such a good while. I pondered on him, how he had decided to come over, but I didn't think of it much, just allowing myself to go back on the mattress and stare at the cracks of the walls before digging out On The Road, decided that it would be a good choice of a novel, when it came to travelling even if it was boring me and Keroauc had written much better things.

I'd get so tired that I'd end up rereading the pages, even if it were still light outside, as summer would try to stroke our faces with every inch of sun. Even if we were here for a few days, I shouldn't be locking myself up, but I just felt far too jet lagged even if it were just an hour it felt so deviant and being elsewhere felt deviant as fuck. Eventually on my second smoke break, I saw Alex and Wob head back, leaving the third person alone, which made me ponder if they had sold them for black market organs or something. I nearly threw the cigarette on their lovely hats and hair, but it landed way far behind them, as Alex looked up and waved at me, jabbing Wob in the side, so both eventually did the same friendly gesture. I tried to recall if it were Wob who I gave the money to, but I could return the favor tomorrow if I were to take his food.

I decided that after all, I shouldn't be the one who hides in his room all day like a hermit and walked outside, waiting for them in the corridor, sitting cross legged and apologizing to anyone who spoke German to me and I couldn't say anything other than sorry, I'm English. It didn't take them long to reach the top floor, where apparently we all resided. Or maybe Alex lived on a different floor, but either way it was surely the same building, I guessed since he decided to check up on me earlier.

Eventually they both came up the stairs, which were heavily drawn on with all sorts of graffiti signs and drawings, which I was sure were here much before we even joined up. It was a heavy contrast to the rooms which were rather bare with the necessities and I recalled hearing that everyone would make sure that every adult had their own room, even if we shared everything else. And from what I understood we would share duties as well, yet to be assigned. Wob was terribly excited about learning how to make mooshine as well, which was something mentioned as we were all unpacking by Joseph.

“There's still some time to explore Berlin, if you'd like.” Alex said, breaking my daze as I waited for them to address me and we all headed towards the kitchen, as I took one of the grocery bags, thinking why did we need so much for just a few days. All I did was say a shy hello and he picked up on it, as I glanced outside the window, which wasn't even getting the memo that it's probably about time to at least get a bit darker.

I noticed Wob give a quick grin to Alex and I pondered what would there be any secrets between them already, but I didn't bother much, just asking Alex where to put the items and where was the band's shelves as he just told to get whatever. I obeyed, by just sorting the food and fruit back in the old fridge and Wob started rumming through, knowing damn well that I'd rather have a hand with cooking.

“I can cook, if you'd like.” Alex offered, before Wob got a good look at the same items he was just getting at the store and there was a brief silence of consideration.

“That's kind of you, that would be great. I'm not the best cook to be honest.” Neither of us are, I wanted to add as Wob said it, but kept my mouth shut, as if scared that Alex would somehow bite me. Then Wob looked at me, as I decided to sit by the small table with two mismatched old chairs and instead of joining me he stood there, speaking up. “I'll join you later, fellas.”
I had to stare at Wob's back as he was walking away, thinking why would he even leave me with Alex-

I remember Wob's shady grin, once my cards showed a bloke. And I glance at Alex, who makes his way through all the shelves, pondering silently on what to cook for a few people, since the rest had their own idea of what to cook apparently, it was just us three, me, Alex and Wob. Of course. I rest my head against my arm, waiting for Alex to choose a dish so I could ask him if he needs help cutting, since that's at least somehow I can't fuck up.


Such a comeback. The first chapter was written back in 2014 and I haven't touched it ever since, maybe there was an old file with something in my old computer, but I highly doubt it, so if there was I just started this chapter from a clean sheet. This story was something I was terrified to touch and probably is the thing I am super anxious about the accuracy of because I can't fucking write it accurate with literal scraps of information and this story is frankly my imagination going wild, because I just find it fascinating and I wanted to attempt at it.

Quick shout out to Placebo's Meds which somehow were the soundtrack to this chapter, which frankly doesn't make any sense, but they helped me keep a miserable mood consistantly and for Radiohead's Ful Stop which in my very unpopular opinion is the only song of A Moon Shaped Pool which caught my eye. Ful stop had given me the ending of Blue/Jacket and now the motivation to start this chapter, so round of applause for these two. I even went outside listening to Meds yesterday to keep my motivation consistant and once I was back I just sat in front of my computer, even if it was hard to write, the motivation was there. Since I'm recovering from a really bad depressive episode, all is hard and all help is appreciated.

 Either way, I was terrified of this story and still fucking am! It's hard to write because it's something I had never experienced, the closest I've had is sharing rooms with other people, but it wasn't an East Berlin squat and I'll never experience that for obvious historical reasons. Also shout out to great interviews which are available online about it, so thank you. Obviously thank you to Jamie for talking about it and inspiring this story.

When I can't write I just start describing what I feel or something which has happened to me, to make it easier to dig in and I keep those chunks going by the Kerouac rule of not erasing anything. I get anxious so easily so I start coughing, so that's where that paragraph comes from.

My headcanon was that until then Jamie well, was a late bloomer and I kind of had a relationship when I was 12, so I kind of went to dig in myself that deep to see how it felt when I didn't have any experience and stuff. So yeah.

Bipolar... pride? Something like it. Mania sucks though.

I kind of really went story telling here and squeezing everything out of my mind, so I pretty much told everything. I actually ended up writing the chunk where Jamie realizes what Wob is doing so that I don't forget to include that later, so it was a cheap trick really.

If you liked it, just send something my way, because I'm an anxiety ball and that would be lovely.

Thank you for all your support