Hi, I'm Addison! I've been on writeblr for a while but wanted to create a new, more recent intro so here goes!
I'm 20, he/him and I'm currently undergoing a theatrical hair and makeup course, which is my main interest outside of writing (other than musical theatre, which I also love). On this writeblr I'd like to share my writing and I'd also like to get better at interacting with others' writing, and doing more ask games and tag games.
The themes on my writing are usually 18+
My writing
I have four WIPs I'd consider active right now:
Ways To Be Cunning (found family, groups of characters in their 20s are put in mysterious trials, there's magic involved, also heavy theme on abusive relationships)
The Secret At Madden Manor (when an alien has to leave earth, he decides to take a group of Earthlings who he's in a poly relationship with on the spaceship with him. But he's being chased by an intergalactic agent trying to return him to his home planet)
That Boy Named Jesse (contemporary, fairly focused on mental health, a mechanic in London sees someone he used to go to school with and they start dating, but he's not in a good mental place, and needs to work off all his insecurity and codependency, trying to find a place of belonging in the queer scene)
Elemental Wings (urban fantasy, a city of winged people with elemental related powers are separated depending on what their powers are, but a very famous leader of a band has sparked outrage and caused everyone to question this system, found family fights against the government)
I'll be doing an intro for each WIP and linking it here when it's done! If anyone wants to be tagged on any of those so they can see what the WIP is all about please lmk
@written-in-gold is my writing partner
If there's any WIPs you're currently working on or discussing on Tumblr, feel free to send me some information on it either by ask or in a reblog! You can link any WIP intros if you like <3
"I swear it makes me want to snap. There was this kid crossing the road with their parents, staring at their iPad, I go up to the parents, I say what the fuck is wrong with you, you can't let them do that on a fucking road, there's fucking cars, bloody ridiculous," Hector says.
"You actually told them off?" Carsen says.
"Too right I did."
"Bloody hell."
This actually does not even break the top ten funniest things Hector has said but I don't sort my stuff out I can't find any of it so here you are
This is hopefully the last time I do this but I have a chance to move somewhere with more jobs and less roommates that repeatedly violate my space and physically fight me
I have a couple job leads in New York but nothing that will help me relocate so I need help with that if anyone feels so inclined. I probably won't have time in the next month or two to sensitivity read or make graphics but if you'd like something in exchange let me know and when I'm free again I'll get on it.
Anyway I need at least 400 for a ticket and bag check and then 1200 for the first month which is a lot but anything helps so I figured I'd ask.
My v3nm0, p@yp@l, and c@$happ are all @jezifster
Don't use my k0fi, it doesn't work as far as I know.
I don't usually add this but if it makes anyone feel better about donating I'm native and trans and appreciate everyone who can help or rb <33
Detective pretending to be a comedian doing crowd work like "hey man where do you work?" followed by "uh huh, and did you happen to be there from 2pm to 6pm on the 2nd of June?" and everyone thinks he's leading up to a bit because of his playful tone and his goading acknowledgements followed by his wacky facial expressions, but once he gets his answers he soberly moves onto someone else in the crowd and repeats this for the duration of his spot
"God and I have an understanding. I fuck men and he averts his eyes. In exchange, I don't blame him for all that's wrong with me. Both I and his ego get stroked off, and I've yet to hear a complaint from either side."
Dante took a sip of his mimosa to hide a grin, set it down, crossed his legs, and felt grateful for years of acting lessons that made it easy to mask that he was furious enough to consider throwing the rest of the cocktail at the person across the table.
"Honestly, Dante, we're in public."
"So I'd suggest you consider how much is too much to know before you make inquiries as to what I do on my own time, mother."
Bianca didn't react much except for a small, humorless laugh under her breath, which she followed with a sip of her gin and tonic. Dante thought that was an improper drink choice for brunch, but he'd kept that to himself. Unlike Bianca and her meddling with his life.
Dante was starting to become aware of how much he'd always felt like an accessory of his mother's, like one of her many black purses with gold accents that all looked the same. Dante knew he wasn't a purse; he was a scarf, a bold one, probably of a floral persuasion, and she didn't always want to wear him.
Katherine, his therapist, had suggested that he'd never properly attached to his mother at a young age, due to being raised mainly by his nanny, and that he'd been trying to ever since.
Despite the lack of evidence to the contrary, Dante remained certain that Bianca would eventually come around.
Katherine also said that since he'd never properly attached, he'd never gotten to naturally detach either. At which point in the session, Dante had swatted the bowl of fake fruit off the accent table in Katherine's office, then chided her for having a plastic bowl and not a ceramic one. After cooling off, Dante was not proud that he'd brought up how much he paid her per session and that he was reasonable in expecting a certain standard of decor, but he did later send her an edible arrangement and an apology note. To which he'd attached a gift certificate to his favorite home goods store in what he hoped was a noticeable hint.
In any case, Katherine thought Dante had attachment issues.
I'd Pay Anything for the Courage to Say That I Love You
A scene of Juliet and Rob from my new WIP, Betrayal of the Directorate. Their relationship is entirely platonic but turning out to be a really important relationship in this WIP ♡ anyway this is in Rob’s P.O.V., which I really write but I had fun. It's pretty short!
Word Count: 495
CW: Nothing really?
I realise, when we’re sitting by the lake, and Juliet is telling me about one of her many high school romances, that we are exactly the same. Before I went to prison, all I wanted was a romantic love. I thought that it would solve all my problems if I had a boyfriend who cared about me. Juliet is exactly the same.
“You judging me?” Juliet asks, turning her head to look at me. She’s sat with her legs curled beneath herself on the grass, propped up on her hand. I have my legs bent, my elbows resting on them. “For caring so much about my exes?”
It occurs to me that we look related. The same bright blonde curls, the same blue eyes. I suppose I am beginning to care for her as though she is my blood. I have never been able to love outside my family.
“No,” I answer, watching the lake. We’re lucky we found this water source. “I was just the same.”
Juliet smiles sympathetically, rests her head on my shoulder. If she left me, I don’t know what I’d do. I wouldn’t like to find out. I want her to be around forever. Juliet, her friendship, is the love I was missing all that time.
The poison of possessiveness runs through me. I close my eyes to try and stop it from surfacing. My therapist would tell me that it’s a bad emotion, that I can never own the people around me no matter how much I want to.
“It feels pathetic, doesn’t it?” Juliet asks, softly scoffing at herself. “Begging for somebody to love you who just doesn’t. It made me feel pathetic. It’s so hard for me to stop myself from running to Kate now and begging her. I know she loves me, in a friend way, but...”
It’s difficult for me to stop myself from begging Juliet.
“Nobody ever loved me,” I say, softly. It’s difficult for me to be this honest. “I never had friends who did, never had a boyfriend who did. Other than my family, I’ve always been... unloved.”
Juliet touches my shoulder, and opens her mouth as though to say something. Then she hesitates and stops and looks sad. She’s quiet before she finally speaks.
“Is that why you did what you did?”
I run through it in my mind. Maybe it is. I’m not an expert on myself, ironically. It’s hard when you think nobody loves you but the people who absolutely have to. It made me feel small. But I never gave anybody a chance to love me.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, and Juliet frowns. “Maybe.”
“You’re not unloved,” Juliet says, kissing my cheek, resting her head on my shoulder again. We shift until my arm is around her shoulders, hers around my stomach, and we lie back on the grass.
I should be dead. I should be serving a sentence. How did I manage to get here?
Casimiro didn’t stop praying to God or talking to his father, despite their failures to help him. He would sit in church and wonder why God stands by and watches as his uncle hit him, if God really loves him so very much. Why only me? Casimiro would wonder. His classmates didn’t seem to suffer such humiliation and pain. Had he done something wrong? Was God punishing him for the death of his mother, for stealing her breath?
His uncle was cruel and merciless. It was as though he was trying to sculpt the perfect child, but no matter how talented Casimiro was at everything he attempted, he was still too soft and cried too easy. Too sensitive. He would pray some more. God, give me the strength to be stronger so that my uncle will love me. He never got stronger.
By @jezifster, @addisons-damn-dialogue, and @written-in-gold
♤ Genre: Comedy/contemporary/crime
♤ Themes: Religious guilt, secrets, lust for fame, the relationships between men
♤ POV: Follows all six main characters in third person, both their present and their past
♤ Books: Two are planned right now
♤ Content Warning: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, violence, murder, references to abuse, strong religious themes
♤ Status: Early stages of drafting
SYPNOPSIS
Six roommates in LA work together on a project that all goes horrendously wrong when one of the directors of their project is murdered, reminding each of them of their dark pasts. As secrets are uncovered and feelings are revealed, they get deeper and deeper into trouble—and one of them has to take the fall.
Characters
William Tallintire—Will's temper was always his worst quality. Usually fuelled by his ego, he always wants to be right, and when he's angry enough, he'll fight a person over it. While this was always an issue for him, it was never too bad until he got arrested over a fight that got particularly nasty. Now, four years later, he's out of prison and finished stage school, and invited five men to come live with him in LA. His roommates become central to his life, and he tries to look after them—ignoring entirely that he needs to be looked after, too.
Dante Luciano—Dante always had trouble making friends. It wasn't easy growing up gay, catholic and prone to emotional outbursts. His only solaces were his dreams of acting and his long time boyfriend and fiancé, but when the engagement is broken off, Dante finds himself spiraling. He didn't expect his new roommates to become his actual friends, nor did he expect to fall in love with one of them, but he soon realizes how much he's come to rely on them when things get even darker.
Grey Cross—Grey struggles with a secret that he's been made to hide, constantly scared that one day, somebody will find out the truth about what he's done. Working as a model, Grey struggles to make ends meet despite having rich relatives after leaving New York, and barely has time to focus on his real dream of becoming a playwright. To make matters more difficult, one of his new roommates is Dante, an actor he fancied at their academy—and with their close proximity, Grey’s feelings become more real.
Reese Sanchez—Reese is used to being the funny one. Even during his short prison stint, he'd managed to keep his spirits up. But working as a stuntman would be more fun if he didn't miss his ex and their daughter so much. Finding it easy to accept others but hard to accept himself, he buries the darkness deep under a cover of dirty jokes and cheesy puns. He's used to being the dad friend, but when it's his turn to cry himself to sleep, he doesn't know where to turn.
Jiro Abiko—Moving out of his family home after an argument got particularly nasty, Jiro joins five other men in a house in LA to try and move on from his regrettable past. Longing to be a rock singer, he is always performing gigs in bars and clubs, and makes good friends with his roommates. Despite how much he cares about them, they only serve to make his life more complicated.
Freddie Webb—Freddie has always been a quiet boy. A good boy. A strange boy. Growing up mostly in foster care, he got adopted by his long-term foster parents when he was fifteen, but he still struggled a lot getting attached to them, or to anyone at all, although he knew in some distant part of his mind he loved them. He lives only to write scripts and spends most of his time slaving over them, ambitious almost to a fault. Stuck with five noisy roommates in the house he's at his wits' end, although even there he's been assigned nothing but merely "the quiet one".
Side Characters
Reagan Barlowe—The girl next door, Reagan is one of the directors of a project that the six men next door do that leads to her co-director getting murdered, pulling her into the middle of the drama, and turning the beginning of her career into a crime scene.
Mina Jackson—Mina did everything the way she was supposed to. She's even balancing an acting career with single motherhood. But she's tired of trying so hard in a world where powerful men hand out scraps of success like it's theirs to give. She's tired of being held back and overlooked. And she's really, really tired of having to be twice as nice as her white male coworkers to get half as far. Maybe it's time to drop to act and let them know what she really thinks about their world.
♤ One of us (the three tagged creators) might reblog this later and add on the extensive background characters! If you're interested in this WIP, let one of us now and we'll add you to the tag list <3
Okay I have a new princess babygirl from a collab I'm doing with @addisons-damn-dialogue and @written-in-gold and name is Dante Sebastian Andrea Luciano. He's gay, Italian, autistic, bipolar, catholic, a scorpio, and an actor and did not have friends in high school but anyway here's some of his quotes bc that's honestly the best way to explain what he's like:
Dante Luciano
"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been four days since my last confession-" "-I've been having impure thoughts of a hateful or sexual nature, occasionally both concerning the same subject. Is that worse, to entertain both simultaneously?"
"I am a faggot, and I'll talk however I damn well please. If I'm hard to understand, might I suggest you look up what a thesaurus is in the dictionary and go from there? I may have a middle school vocabulary workbook from years ago, if you'd like me to walk you through it."
"To hell with it, Patrick, this is not oat milk! Every time you forget! Milk desecrates my skin, you know this!"
"Clear your schedules, today we are going to see god."
"Only pirates and murderers bury things. I'm neither."
"I don't know why no one likes me! I'm brilliant and talented and the best looking person at school. They're all just lowbrow cretins. I could kill them all!"
"I'm well-versed in being hated, and I've never believed in dumbing myself down or straightening myself out, and it would take someone far more consequential and significant than you to incline me to do so."
"I always thought I'd get this for someone as a valentine's gift but I never did. I didn't ever have a valentine, and although it isn't February, you'd make the loveliest valentine anyhow."
"You should read me something Brontë flavored. You decide which one, though I know Jane [Erye] would have loved Lana [Del Rey]."
"No, I'm not okay! Why would you think I'd be okay? Are you an idiot?"
"My goodness, Reese, please tell me there is only Marijuana in this cigarette."
"You are erect."
"I will kill you and whatever slutty little spunk swallower you've managed to snag with your hideous polo shirts! You know I hate Ralph Lauren! How could you do this to me?"
"If no one will ever love me, then why not be myself? You taught me that, mother. To be detestable with confidence."
"You're banal, Patrick, you have no music in your soul! I loved you with a love you will never find again! You'll think of me on your deathbed and die in regret. You're pathetic, Patrick."
The first draft of my new OC Grey Cross' backstory scene in a collab project I'm doing with @jezifster and @addisons-damn-dialogue! It gets a little gory at one point. Spoiler warning also.
Trigger Warnings: Drugs mention, murder
The tag list is only really the two people I've already tagged so <3 tell me if you wanna be added! Scene under "read more".
The director. The cameramen. The other model. The stylist. The makeup artists. Grey himself. Those were the people on the scene that day.
Outside it was dark. It was late, 10pm. Winter in Paris, France, which is where they were. Paris. France. Grey hasn’t been back since that visit. It’s never quite felt the same again.
The shoot was some artistic thing that was going to end up in black and white, plastered around. It was a Jean Paul Gaultier shoot, and Grey managed to swindle a t-shirt—"the Diablo”. Red and white, long sleeves. He loves that shirt.
Grey’s ex boyfriend had made a surprise appearance around lunch time, and Grey didn’t want to see him, and didn’t appreciate that he was there. His name was Thomas. He was a playwright. He always wore aviators.
After the shoot, Thomas followed Grey to his dressing room. Why wouldn’t he? Grey was the only reason he showed up.
“Thomas, you must learn that when I say I’m breaking up with you, you don’t need to follow me to Paris anymore,” Grey said. He had forgotten his meds on this trip. He doesn’t have anger issues. He’s just erratic when he doesn’t take him. He needs to be less so.
“I have to try, Grey,” Thomas answered, closing the door, taking off his unnecessary sunglasses. Thomas was 6’1, about as muscular as Grey. He had rather a few tattoos. “You left me for no reason.”
“You’re being quite unfair, Thomas,” Grey snapped. He had his own reasons for leaving Thomas. Thomas should have understood. “We don’t agree on things!”
“We can agree to disagree,” Thomas pointed out. It didn’t feel so simple, or worth it. They fought a lot, and Grey doesn’t like to fight.
“I hated to see you going to church every Sunday. Who goes to church? Nobody, Thomas,” Grey said, starting to get changed into his normal clothes, moving behind the screen.
“It doesn’t matter, Grey. We can get past religion,” Thomas answered. “Your lack of hope is really pissing me off, you know. I thought you loved me?”
“I did, but then I left you!” Grey yelled, pulling on his clothes quickly, frustrated. Sometimes things don’t work out. Thomas is far too romantic to accept such an outcome lying down. “You have to learn to accept it. Come to terms with it. It’s over. I’m sorry.”
Grey wanted to go back to his ugly, small, run-down hotel room and read, but Thomas wasn’t willing to give him this simple mercy.
“You’re off your meds, aren’t you? You’re not usually like this,” Thomas said, correctly, although it annoyed Grey, like Grey wasn’t allowed to be angry without it being because of some chemical imbalance. “Usually you’re so sweet.”
“That’s why you love me, isn’t it? I’m passive. I just exist in the background of your genius artistry!” Grey answered. He always felt that Thomas liked that he was a model, a job which requires no artistic skill, because it allows Thomas to be the creative one. Thomas was quite successful in his field, and it made him a little cocky. Grey is a writer also—it was his dream—but then he got scouted and decided to run with that. Thomas never liked being reminded that Grey likes to write. It injured his easily injured pride.
“I love you because I think you’re wonderful,” Thomas answered, walking over and grabbing Grey by the shoulders, holding him still, trying to appeal to him. “I miss your presence. It’s harder to write without you.”
“Now I’m your muse? What a cliché,” Grey said. Thomas was just coming up with anything, at least that’s how it felt. Thomas found inspiration in any old thing, any random item. It isn’t like his work ever circled around Grey.
“You’re being a bitch, Grey, I’m trying my best here!” Thomas said, gesturing at nothing, raising his voice.
“You tried your best already! It wasn’t good enough and it never will be!” Grey yelled back. He was getting tearful as a result of yelling, a result of being insulted unfairly. He should be allowed to tell Thomas to leave him alone. “Give up, Thomas!”
“What do you bloody hate me so much for?” Thomas yelled in answer. Grey knew the rest of the crew, packing to leave, would probably have heard their voices. “You loved me once! I love you! Do you hate me because I’m fucking successful and you’ve wound up modelling?”
“I don’t hate modelling!” Grey yelled. He didn’t hate modelling and he still doesn’t, or he wouldn’t do it. He’s never resented being a model rather than a writer. He still writes. “I always celebrated your success, I sung your praises, I attended your openings, don’t pretend like I’ve been sitting with gritted teeth all this time!”
“Why do you hate me, then?”
“I don’t! I just don’t want you anymore!”
“You stuck-up, cocaine-snorting, jealous bitch,” Thomas said, stepping a way, and Grey’s blood boiled at the insult suddenly. He was always so good to Thomas, and then Thomas started rewriting history. “Enjoy looking at your fucking reflection. It’s your only achievement in life before you descend straight into Hell.”
“Hell. Isn’t. Real!” Grey answered, and ran at Thomas before he could stop himself, before he could think better of it—he grabbed a hat-pin, about three inches in length, and stabbed Thomas in the throat. The only man that he had ever loved in his life. He started choking up blood before Grey had even processed what he’d done.
“Grey—” Thomas said, or tried to say, but his voice sounded strangled, and he fell to the floor after blood had sprayed across Grey’s face and shoulders.
Grey was in shock, and covered his mouth, stumbling away. He didn’t know whether to scream for help or cover up the crime. He could tell that Thomas was a dead man already. He was crying but barely realised it.
“Thomas, I’m sorry,” Grey whispered, but what was done was done. He was frozen and scared and coveted in blood, the hat pin still in Thomas's throat. The door opened. There the director stood. Grey really thought he was going to prison.
Oh yeah I'm working on a story with @addisons-damn-dialogue !
It's like a dystopian thriller/romance with big themes being class and freedom. There's some retro futurism going on a little bit? It's set in the future after an apocalyptic event, there's an authoritarian shadow government that hides behind a figurehead royal family, an upper class that largely enjoys things the way they are because they live in a lot of luxury, and the working class who can barely afford to eat, which is where the resistance movement starts. There's tons of propaganda and information suppression as well, to maintain the status quo.
There's a lot of deceit going on, especially between the two main characters. One of them is next in line for the crown and the other is a leader in the revolutionary movement.
The funny part is that they don't know who the other one is and they're gonna fall in love LMAO 💅
There's also a lot of sun/moon motifs and opposites attract and of course the lying. So much lying 💀
We haven't written a lot yet we're still doing a lot of world building and whatnot but here's a scene my pal wrote.
Detail about a potential sex scene below lol bc I think it's genius
So it's like the kissing in the rain trope except pussy eating
the only time you open up is when we get undressed || Elizabeth Fairly
From the unnamed wip I'm doing with @jezifster <3333
You don't love me, big fucking deal
I'll never tell you how I feel
You don't love me, not a big deal
I'll never tell you how I feel
Despite the size of the room, the air is warm, filled to the brim with rose-scented candles. The sheets are silky and cream-coloured, and they’ve got nothing over them except the mink blanket. She wraps a band of silk around his eyes and ties it at the back, then presses her lips to his ear.
“Do you like being blindfolded so you can pretend I’m one of your lovers?” she whispers. It's meant to hurt, but the moment it escapes her lips she knows it only hurts her.
He turns his head half-back, despite not being able to see her, and she gazes at his lips. He answers, “Kiss me hard enough I never think of anyone else again.”
She almost wished he had the decency to deny it.
Elizabeth lives in Acissé, the dome in which the royals reside, a ten minute walk from the entrance to the palace grounds. She knows the royals should seem like superior figures to her, that she should see this proximity as a great honour, but to her the royals are human. It’s difficult to imagine them otherwise, being in love with one.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” Elizabeth asks Alex one day. He’s stretched out in the bath, smoking as he so often is—although she’s asked him not to—and she’s sat on the edge of the opposite end of the bath, dressed in green lingerie with her feet in. Alex keeps pushing his feet against hers like a child misbehaving in a restaurant.
“Not most of the time,” Alex says, and she meets his eyes for a moment. She sees the moment he registers the hope in her eyes and he adds, “When I’m with my sister.”
It is very difficult, being in love with a twin, Elizabeth finds. He has another half, his better half, his favourite person; the one person for whom he would sacrifice his life. It wouldn’t be Elizabeth, even when she bears his ring on her finger.
“Of course,” she answers, sighing and looking at the steam on the mirror. The bath is so hot. Alex’s pretty face is flushed red.
“It does not mean I think less of you than her,” Alex answers. “I hate to see that pout on your face.”
“You have to see things you hate to see sometimes. It is the way of the world.”
“Not my world. In mine you are always happy.”
“I should like to go to your world someday, then.”
“I should like to take you,” he answers, and when she meets his eyes again, he smiles. It makes her laugh a bit and glance down at their feet, then she kicks him gently and goes, “Oh, shut up.”
“He’d say, we’ve got to go to Venice,” he murmurs, stood behind her with his arms around her waist. When he sings, he's like a siren. “Because in Venice, every day life’s a work of art, and must be seen firsthand.”
“Where is Venice?” Elizabeth asks, as she chops the fruit. Sometimes she doesn’t need to do, because there are servants at the palace, but she finds it relaxing. They’re going to eat it outside on the table.
She knows he won’t tell her where Venice is. It must be one of his many secrets about the world before, the world he can’t tell her about.
And she’s right. He doesn’t answer. He puts his hands over hers to help her chop the fruit and a shiver runs through her at his touch. “Breathe deep,” he continues, and it makes her laugh a bit, tilting her head back on his shoulder, because his eyes are down on the fruit now, and he won’t accidentally chop her fingers, she knows it, “our destination’s Venice. Beauty and pleasure is all we can hope to understand.”
He kisses her neck and she sighs. “Will you take me? To Venice?” she says, and then smiles a bit. “Is that your world?”
“I’d like it if it was,” he murmurs. “One day I’ll take you, but you won’t even know you’re there. I won’t tell you where it used to be.”
“I’m sure I’ll feel it,” she answers, and they drop the knife at the same time as they turn their heads to face each other, his lips meeting hers. For a moment he belongs to her, and everything seems to light up. The world spins perfectly on its axis, and she intertwined her fingers with his.
“Do you feel it now?” he asks, his voice soft, drowning between her lips. She wishes he would sing more. He is beautiful. He is not unlike a siren.
“Should I?” She smiles against him, and he pulls away to look at her with deep blue eyes. “Are you Venice?”
That makes him laugh, and he pushes her back against the kitchen counter to face him, and kisses her properly. She moans against his mouth, a bit surprised.
Beauty and pleasure is all we can hope to understand.
Genevieve Carmichael is always elegant. She walks around in summer dresses with her hair neatly tied up and skinny sunglasses on her face, a book always in her hand. She is one of Elizabeth’s best friends.
“Genie!”
She is, of course, Alexander’s soulmate.
Upon spotting her across the flower garden, he runs over to see her, past one of the peacocks that resides on the grounds, through the cherry blossom trees. Sometimes, Elizabeth wonders if some of the plant life near the palace is artificial, all aesthetically pleasing. If it is, she can’t tell.
“Hello, lovebirds,” Genie says, sat on the sofa swing in her summer hat, reading a book. She takes Alex’s hand when he comes over and he leans down and kisses her cheek.
“How is your afternoon?” Elizabeth asks, going to sit on her other side. Elizabeth pretends to be a fan of reading, but she isn’t.
“Boring,” Genie answers.
“How I couldn’t agree more,” Alex answers, staring into the distance and twisting his lips, in this moment appearing so displeased with life you’d think he’d had it rough.
“How could you be bored with Lizzie?” Genie says, laughing.
“Quite easily.”
It doesn’t hurt anymore, but Genie still whacks Alex’s side gently with her book and says to Elizabeth, “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.”
“I know that very well,” Elizabeth answers, and when he turns around to them both, looking annoyed, they both giggle.
“You know how I adore you both,” Alex says, with no actual adoration in his voice, although Elizabeth is sure he must mean it at least to Genie. Genie huffs and leans back, crossing her arms, but there’s amusement in her eyes. “You’re fucking nasty, you two. You fucking gang up on me.”
Genie gasps in a most outrageous manner and kicks him. He widens his eyes. “As if!” Genie answers. “You poor wounded soldier. Does nobody care about you?”
Alex doesn’t answer, and Elizabeth says, “You are sensitive today. Is something the matter?”
“He is always sensitive. How about you go find Benjamin and leave us alone?”
“Benji!” Alex exclaims to himself, as though a worse idea has never been thought of. “He’s upstairs reading, moping about as usual. I suppose I could go fetch him and we could get our friends together for cricket.”
“You could,” Genie answers.
“That’s what I’m doing, as long as you’re not doing anything, because if you are I want to be a part of it,” Alex says, looking at the two of them.
“No,” Elizabeth answers, lifting her eyebrows. “Not doing a thing. We shall sit here uneventfully until your return.”
That makes Alex smile, and he leans down, kissing her nose in a very affectionate manner, and then kissing her properly. “You think you’re funny, I see,” he answers, then kisses her cheek a few times, making Genie roll her eyes at this display of affection, despite how much joy it brings Elizabeth.
“She’s funnier than you. Fuck off, Alex,” Genie says, and waves for him to go, which he does, after playfully sticking his tongue out at her and flipping the finger at her with both hands as he walks backwards away from them, then turns and runs.
Genie leans slightly toward Elizabeth. “Did something happen between him and Benjamin?” she asks.
“To be honest, I hate to ask,” Elizabeth answers.
The man I love thinks he loves me. He believes his own lies and his own half-truths. He lives a million different lives and I am privy to only one of them. He will tell me he cannot stand dark chocolate, and then he’ll buy so much dark chocolate that I know of nobody who could stomach it. I never see the dark chocolate again, and I wonder who he gifted it to.
He spends money that’s meant to last for a month in a week. He steals his sister’s dresses for his lovers and makes his staff buy him gifts if he cannot get them himself. I am not allowed out with him if I cannot pay my half, and I wonder if his lovers are treated similarly.
