falling;

my mouth is dry with words i cannot verbalize tell me why we live like this

[gemmaosman]

tillybaptiste‌:

Gemma voices her faults as if they’re editor’s notes scribbled in the margin of a draft. Room for improvement. Something that needs to be crossed out and changed. A weak sentence in an otherwise strong paragraph. A frown lines Tilly’s brow as she casts a long sideways glance to the woman beside her, the offered compliment ignored for the sake of focusing on the final statement. “Hanging out with the people I used to meant you either learnt how to fight or you wound up in a hospital bed.” Fingers curl into the airtex of her polo shirt, lifting the hem to flash the scar etched into her side. “I didn’t always know how to take care of myself.” She lets the material fall, weighing up the words she offers as advice. “You want to feel you can fuck up anyone who tries to mess with you? First step is to arm yourself.” Safety was the weight of a switchblade in her pocket but the absence of one was easily made up for. “Here–” she pulls a pencil from her sock and rolls it across the tiles towards Gemma, “–you can keep that. I sharpened the point with a pair of scissors. Anyone tries to touch you, push it into their eyeball.” Visibly smug with herself, the corner of her lips twitch into a smile. “Fair enough. Just– don’t get swallowed up by it, you know? You hold yourself to all these weird, shittily impossible standards but nobody is going to judge you if you don’t stay Little Miss Perfect forever.”

Gemma knows her potential – or, at least she did, once, but this wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Growing up, she didn’t really know what she was capable of, only that working hard would show her all the things she could achieve. It did, and it brought her to this office high up in a skyscraper and an apartment just the same. It brought her before influential people, all knowing her name, some looking to her for the next steps in their day. She’d been lost once, but she found herself. Going from being so sure of herself to so unsure, however, was a terrible fall, one that made the climb to even some shred of normalcy seem so daunting. It didn’t stop Gemma from grabbing onto the rungs of that ladder, but it did make her wonder if she could pull herself all the way up there. Tilly, on the other hand, seems so sure of herself even after whatever it was that she went through. Whatever happened didn’t seem to phase her or impact her much, at least not in Gemma’s eyes. There’s a resilience in her that she envies, but in a way that she wishes to be taught by her, not resentful of her. “How did you learn?” she asked, careful not to present too many prying questions to Tilly. It was the only way Gemma suspected she was even somewhat affected by things, the way she avoided certain topics or turned at certain inquiries. Gemma figured she wouldn’t want to be asked too many questions about what happened, either, though people seemed to avoid asking them to Gemma for different reasons than they avoided asking them to Tilly. She wanted to return to that position where she wasn’t so much feared, but respected, her voice paid attention to when it filled a room, her presence looked at as one to be taken seriously. Maybe taking this pencil was the first step, despite the fearful connotation it held. Gemma grasped it in her hand, trying to figure out the best way to hold it as per Tilly’s instructions. “What if I can’t get to the eye?” she asked. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked down, considering the comment Tilly made. “I don’t think I’ve ever been perfect,” she admitted. “I just want to be normal.”

[gemmaosman]

acharlatan‌:

The success of his birthday passing without a single housemate noticing puts a spring in Frankie’s step. Usually, he’d have demanded the entire room’s attention, but after co-workers ordered him to wear an oversized birthday badge with an obnoxious holographic ‘34’ in the centre, being bombarded by old man jokes in the villa was the last thing of his wishlist. The walk home was perpetually his preferred part of the evening, welcoming dimly lit streets and fresh air that was undoubtedly taken for granted after a seven-hour shift in an unventilated Florida bar. All there was left to do was to get in, eat dinner and then curl up with Bentley- so long as the cat hadn’t chosen another person’s bed that night, in which case, Frankie would be taking full offence. Slipping the key in the lock, the front door clicks open and heavy footsteps reverberate against the tiled floors. Bolting the door behind him, a rigid gaze follows the light cast down the hallways from the kitchen, “What happened to saving the god damn polar bears?” 

Glimpsing around the door, the realisation that there’s someone sat in the room rather than forgetfully leaving a light on causes his heart to sink with panic. Hand’s fuss to try and remove the birthday badge before they’d turn around and his cover would be blown, stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans and he finally looking up to properly acknowledge the other person. Heart sinks even further when he recognises that it’s Gemma sat at the kitchen’s island, hair effortlessly tousled and even in pyjamas she manages to set his nerves on end. “Hey,” Frank’s voice easily travelled through the stillness of the room, despite the effort to be gently toned and non-threatening. “Sorry if I scared you, no one’s usually awake when I get home from work,” quirking a brow, it’s his way of asking what she was doing up at 3AM without seeming like he was attempting to pry into her life. It’s evident, particularly after their last conversation, all of his energy was focused into being less domineering. A self-conscious hand smoothed over his beard, nodding in the direction of the refrigerator, “D’you mind if I grab my food out the fridge?” he’d ask her permission before walking over there, waiting patiently where he was stood for approval. 

Gemma hadn’t been living here long enough to tell her housemates just from their footsteps. She could tell thundering footsteps weren’t Summer’s or Jett’s, but that was about it. Everyone’s gait was unique, their steps unique as they walked across hardwood or linoleum, but it took time to recognize someone from that sound and pressure alone. Thundering footsteps only sounded like doom to Gemma still, and thus she couldn’t notice Frankie’s clumsy nuance in them. Maybe in time she would be able to recognize them as his when he walked through the threshold, and maybe in time they wouldn’t make her jump. But the former had to come first, and then it would be easier to focus on the latter, so long as he made good on all he promised her, of course. She hadn’t interacted with Frankie much in the past few days, their schedules or plans keeping them largely apart. 

Gemma had been frozen, as if her stillness would cause the other person to forget she was even in there, or if they entered the room, that they wouldn’t see her. But Frankie was not some primal creature whose senses were triggered by movement, and so it wasn’t hard for him to see her as he neared the kitchen, dark tousle of a hair bun standing out among the light kitchen cabinetry and counter tops. For a brief moment, so used to feeling so small and shrinking in his presence, she wondered if she should have put on a robe, instead of just coming down to the kitchen in her tank top and shorts, but it was thinking like this that made her wonder what the hell she was doing. Yasmin would have never covered herself in some blanket of insecurity for someone who was coming into the space she had created in the first place. Gemma wanted to be like that again. She didn’t realize that Yasmin, in a sense, was also tailoring her behavior for others, just in a different way. Gemma just wanted to be normal. She wanted to be authentically something other than fearful. She swallowed any bit of wariness as Frankie greeted her. 

“I didn’t know you were working so late tonight,” she confessed. She guessed she should have thought of this, and it wasn’t exactly his fault for making noise when he came home from work – he lived here, too. She could feel his inquisitive gaze upon her, and instinct to shrink away was so easy to give into. But she grounded herself, focusing on the warmth transferring between her cup and her hands, and reminded herself of the person she once was and the person she wanted to be. Still, she didn’t want to be the person who admitted to these nightmares that only made her feel weak. “I couldn’t sleep,” was all she answered. Realizing she was almost in the way of the fridge at his request, she stepped aside, freeing up the space for him to use. “Yeah, of course. Go right ahead. I guess it was a long work day,” she mused, unsure what his shifts were even like. 

[gemmaosman]

tillybaptiste‌:

“Thanks,” Tilly responds, but the word lingers in the cool night air, hesitation clinging to the syllables before she twists them into something different, “but it’s fine. I can take care of myself.” What she means to say is that she doesn’t want Gemma to worry; that she doesn’t want to be a weight that drags the other down like carelessly thrown pebbles in the pool. There lay the crux of the matter. She isn’t used to belonging, shivering at the idea of being cared about beyond superficial bonds. Guilt grows thicker the closer to people she gets, her actions ricocheting off others. This was why she’d never joined the gangs back home, simply doing odd jobs for whoever paid enough – loyalty turns free, feral creatures tame. “It was a stupid fight. I don’t even remember what started it.” She lies with ease, loyalty and guilt alike both sinking their jaws into her, seemingly inescapable regardless of what she does. Fuck. “People pin too much on kissing and sex. It’s just two people acting. No different to a handshake.” Her thoughts are shared honestly. The corners of her lips lift with a glint of provocative mischief, shirking the sharp teeth that kept her from telling the truth about her argument with Frankie. “You can always use me to practice.” 

“I know you can,” Gemma confirms. In no way does she see Tilly as weak, and it’s her ferrocious strength she actually admires more than anything. “I just figured anyone would want a running start. I wish I could take care of myself so easily.” So viciously. So that her presence told people what she was about again. Once, her expression could silence a room, but now it wished to stay silent, itself. The events she witnessed had turned her so meek, out of fear her usual commanding presence would now attract the wrong type of attention. It was hard to break from that fear. It’s hard to even admit she’s weak when all she wants to be is strong, hard to admit she’s not progressing to her goal as quickly as she wants to. But maybe admitting to things is the first step – then again, is there really any sort of linear progression to this sort of stuff? There are plenty of books on getting over heartbreak or moving on from grief, but there aren’t exactly any books entitled ‘So You’re in Witness Protection: What to Do When the Mob Wanted You Dead and You Have a New Start.’ “I used to be very good at professional handshakes – but I wouldn’t exactly want to kiss any of the people I was shaking hands with.” That statement held especially true when she didn’t know who of her boss’s past colleagues were those who pulled him into the darker world Gemma was not aware of. “Thanks, but I think I’m okay for now. It’s hard to be attracted to someone when I’ve gotten used to people only having the worst intentions. Starting over’s not so easy.”

[gemmaosman]

summertownsend‌:

She’s felt like a ghost of herself the whole day. Not quiet as sunny, absent of the usual pep that was in her step, feeling rather drained from her headache and uneasy stomach. Gemma’s suggestion for a bit of light yoga in the backyard was a welcomed distraction from the angry swarm of emotions in her chest just as it was a sure-fire way to make her feel better. Stepping barefoot through the grass already had Summer smiling, laying out her mat beside Gemma’s own and smoothing it down with her foot. “Hey,” Summer chirps through a grin, stepping onto her mat and taking a deep inhale, “I’m feeling it enough. It’s subsiding, though.” But still, the prospect of balancing on her hands or doing a downward dog made her feel sick. “More meditating and breathing than posing, I’m hoping,” Summer suggests, casting a sidelong glance towards Gemma. “Thank you, by the way,” she remembers to say, offering a soft smile to the other woman,, “For the water. That was like, super thoughtful of you.” There was a reason Summer was going to continue to refer to Gemma as the mothering figure of the group – when she went out of her way to ensure her housemates were hydrated through their hangovers, it was pretty difficult not to.

Sitting herself down on her mat, Summer folds her legs into a neat pretzel, waiting patiently for Gemma to do the same as she rested her palms on her knees. Closing her eyes, Summer let herself be at one with nature – listening to the breeze and the rustling of the trees, the sounds of the birds and the whirr of an airplane high overhead. “Full disclaimer,” she begins, peeking open an eye to look at Gemma, “I would not judge you at all. But what was what kiss with Tilly about? And didn’t she totally fight you about it after? That’s…not how kisses are supposed to go…” 

The whole house hungover was much less chaotic and much quieter, but it still felt almost wrong to Gemma. She would definitely prefer the toned-down chaos of a few of her new housemates and a quieter environment maybe, but the pain that accompanied it definitely wasn’t worth it. She figured that was why it felt wrong, though there was also another part of her that missed the busy atmosphere she surrounded herself with in her old life. When she was always focused on work, or controlling the life of another person, she didn’t have much time to sit and reflect on her own. And why would she? She had a great job with a good salary, she was engaged, and she should be happy. She never stopped to think that she wasn’t, at least not until the day she broke off the engagement. Now, there’s really little else to do in the stillness but to focus on herself, and when she’s far from the woman she wanted to be, Gemma didn’t want to focus on that, not when she could focus on working to gain that control back. So, instead, she distracted herself with yoga and the company of Summer. “Yeah, nothing too intense, I promise.” The other woman was very distracting – not in a way that suggested she was annoying, but because her sunshine-y presence allowed Gemma to focus on other things, almost positive things, something she might not have done if Summer wasn’t around. She showed her appreciation in the little things, like the water. “You’re welcome. I saw how you were getting in. I didn’t want you to be too bad today, even though it’s kind of inevitable for all of us.”

Gemma followed suit, sitting on her mat and crossing her legs. Her palms were turned upwards as her hands rested on her legs, and she allowed her eyes to close for a few moments, letting her breathing and the warmth of the midday sun attempt to heal her. The question broke her from that peaceful state, Gemma’s eyes opening to search Summer’s face for a reason behind her inquisition. “Nothing... She said she wanted to take my mind off of whatever I was panicking about. She just got weird when I tried to ask her about it. Everything’s fine now. It was a drunk miscommunication.” Gemma shrugged, trying not to make it as big of a deal as it was. “I heard you kissed someone last night, too.”

[gemmaosman]

@acharlatan​

Glass shattered upon an already-creaky windowpane and Gemma’s eyes darted to the source. It couldn’t just be the storm outside. This force was more than just the wind. Suspicions were confirmed when her shaky legs dared to carry her over to where the glass came to rest upon her carpet in jagged pieces, for in the center of them was the head of the man she once called her boss. How could they have found her here? Her whole body shook in time with her jagged breaths, tears welling up in her eyes as she swiftly tried to back away from the window. There was no use, however, as a hand reached in through the open frame to grasp her tightly, pulling her towards it despite her screaming protests, which no one in the house seemed to answer, as if they were all gone or all couldn’t hear her or worse, all ignored her pleas for help. A quick glance over towards the owner of the arm revealed the same dark eyes she locked gazes with the day her life changed forever. His other hand held a gun, one that was swiftly pressed to her temple once she was pulled close enough and—

Gemma jolted awake, gasping for the air she thought was about to be robbed from her. Of course it wasn’t real, she tried to remind herself through staccato breaths. Sitting up, she pressed her knees to her chest and tried not to sob, tried not to let the imaginary affect her. She tried to get better, but how were things supposed to be normal when her subconscious seemed to remind her at any possible moment that she wasn’t as safe as she wanted to be? Part of her felt foolish for not recognizing the nightmare sooner, especially after all she’d done to make herself comfortable in this new space and new life, including the convincing that they didn’t know who or where she was now. She wanted things to be normal. She would work to make things normal. She would control every bit that she could, and hoped her subconscious would fall in line.

For now, she was awake, and she knew sleep wouldn’t come back to her easily. It probably also wasn’t good to stay in the same room her mind just dreamed was in the most frightening of situations, so she made her way to the kitchen, hoping the cool linoleum beneath her bare feet would at least bring some relief in grounding her to the reality of this place. Wiping her eyes in case anyone was nocturnal (she couldn’t allow them to see her so weak – she would not let herself appear weak for a moment longer, even though it was how she felt), she turned the lights on, relieved to see that no one else inhabited the darkness. She made herself some decaf coffee, hoping the familiar sounds of the machine would be distracting and the taste of the drink would be comforting. Warmth filled her stomach as she leaned against the counter top and took a slow sip, trying to make the same warmth flood her mind. The sound of the front door opening, however, had other plans, and Gemma startled at it as she froze in the kitchen, not realizing everyone wasn’t home.

[gemmaosman]

acharlatan‌:

The mattress is softer than his own upstairs, his weight easily sinking the moment he sat down. Frankie’s gaze relaxes as he allows it to wash over Gemma, the calm observation making it easier to recognise what was going on behind her stern expressions. It was likely that she hadn’t been this way before, and the fact that his occupancy in the villa had been negatively influencing on her trauma caused his heart to sink like heavy lead in his chest. The guilt of it baffling to someone that constantly masked their emotions with ingenuine remarks. Brows pulled together in resentment of the contents of his own mind, having to openly acknowledge that it was him that was in the wrong wasn’t exactly something he’d ever done before. He’d be the one requiring to make improvements rather than anticipating for everyone around him to tweak what was acceptable to be able to stomach unfavourable behaviours. 

Hangovers had a funny way of ramping up any minor sensation he felt and pushing it out tenfold. Frankie was being notably conscious of himself, shoulders slumped in an endeavour to make himself look modest and hands kept firm against the top of his knees to resist sudden movements. “I know, and I don’t want to make it any harder for you,” attentively, he doesn’t present her with excuses, words delivered mindfully in a hushed tone that couldn’t intimidate a fly. “I’m not really used to having company, so I’ve got stuff I need to work on. I’m still figuring out what’s acceptable and not,” offering a nod of understanding, it’s an overwhelming realisation that trails his sentence back to silence. He’d been one of the lucky ones, likely the least deserving of the opportunity to rebuild his life under guaranteed protection. Frank wasn’t traumatised, he’d willingly entangled himself in an underground world, his involvement or the fact that a gang in Vegas would gladly tear him limb from limb never made it any harder for him to sleep at night. The weight in his chest sinks deeper. “I’ll be on my best behaviour. And if I do anything to piss you off you know you can just tell me, right? I’ll cut it out.”

He seemed so genuine. Maybe some of these words were rehearsed, and maybe someone had pushed him to her door, but the regret upon his face was believable. She couldn’t entirely believe he didn’t know it wasn’t a good idea to make himself so intimidating to her to gain some amusement from her fear, but the guilt that stemmed from his actions was real, and she allowed herself to believe and accept that. Frankie was someone trying to start over, just as she was, and Gemma had to remind herself of that. Maybe he’d found a coping mechanism in humor, but in the twisted sense his life had caused him to adopt in one way or another, didn’t realize the implications or that others simply didn’t share it. It was at least a somewhat valid way to process things, as opposed to Gemma shrinking away from anything and everything, so paranoid of getting hurt that she simply recoiled from anyone that could possibly ever do the job, something that wasn’t getting her anywhere. Nico was right when he said she couldn’t let this control her life; she didn’t want this to control her life. Gemma wanted normalcy more than anything, and if there was something she wanted, she knew she had to work harder than ever for it. The first step was forgiving Frankie, even when every paranoid thought in her mind told her it was a bad idea. He was human, too. He was hurt, too. They needed to find some middle ground, and she was pretty good at negotiation.

“Thanks, Frankie. I really appreciate that.” Her words were genuine, as well. He meant it, and knowing he meant it made her feel a bit safer in front of him. It would still take time for her to completely warm up, to remind herself the booming footsteps were friendly, but there was a start, and a very necessary one, at that. “If you ever need help with that...” Gemma swallowed, realizing if he was going to help her by being sensitive to her traumas, she should offer that help back. She didn’t even know what had lead him to be like this in the first place, after all... “You know, figuring out what’s acceptable, I can probably answer questions. I spent a lot of my life keeping things in that acceptable zone.” Her life was always recognizing that harsh line, seeing things in black and white, and shoving the appropriate people to the appropriate side. But she’d yet to see that things weren’t always right or wrong. “I will.” It will be hard at first, to remind herself that he’s not someone threatening and won’t go off on her the moment she tries to tell him off. Something like that had once never stopped her from telling someone off when they needed it, but when the consequences of even just being a witness was deadly, she shrank under even the possibility of that angry confrontation. So, she added, “I’ll try.”

[gemmaosman]

tillybaptiste‌:

“Thank fuck for that.” Not knowing whether their housemates were out for her blood was a good sign, Tilly supposes. She stretches to palm another decorative pebble from the nearby plant pot, tossing it into the underlit water. The pool looked prettier at night, in her opinion, despite how much she loathed the thought of going in it. A shock of blue in the dark. “I’m not sure.” She answers Gemma’s query with a small frown, uncertain as to whether it was wise to point out why the other should be pissed off when she’d clearly let what happened slide. Tilly fiddles with one end of her shoelace, crossed legs beginning to fall asleep from lack of movement. “I thought, maybe, you’d be mad that it all ended in a fight. Or mad that I kissed you — everyone made a big deal of it.” She keeps her gaze fixed downwards, guilt uncomfortable to wear, searching for something to lighten her words. “Or mad if it was a shit kiss.” A smile licks at her lips. “But in my defence, that was my first in, like, over two years.” 

“If I hear someone’s about to send the wolves on you, I’ll be sure to give you the heads up,” Gemma assured. She didn’t know who could be mad at Tilly for the events of last night, other than Frankie, given the obvious evidence in their argument outside the bar, though she seemed like she enjoyed trouble for the fun of it. While Gemma didn’t understand it, she hadn’t felt the mischief and wrath of her housemate personally, and found herself feeling lucky for it. Plus, there was a toughness in Tilly that wasn’t as much intimidating as it was envy-inducing. Gemma knew she was tough in her own way, a woman who could command a room with a powerful voice ready to command, but such confidence and power was stolen from her when that same voice shrieked at the sight of her boss, dead on the floor, and alerted the attention of the people who did not want to get caught for such actions. Tilly was sharp jagged edges ready to stab at any time. Gemma had her own sharp edges, but they were clean and straight in the way a crisp piece of paper was, capable of slicing through skin all the same. She simply needed to find that potential again. “No, I’m not mad. I don’t really know what the fight was about. And I was mostly just confused why you kissed me... but you cleared that up, so I’m fine, really,” she shrugged. “It wasn’t a shit kiss. Not really a kiss I expected, but not a shit one.” A small smile graced her own lips. “Seriously? I wouldn’t have known. I haven’t kissed anyone in a bit, myself.”

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: probably, but it gives me something to do

nora: he hasn't said anything to you today has he?

nora: i never did see him after we got back last night, i think he barricaded himself in his room after the Incident

gemma: i haven't seen much of anyone yet today, so no.

gemma: i got up, made coffee, and now i'm back in bed because nothing else seems to be helping this headache.

gemma: probably. i've never seen either of them that intense before.

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: hm, i guess that could make sense

nora: want me to ask around??

nora: i love being nosy

gemma: and confirm what we already know?

gemma: do whatever you want to. i intend to let this die out when it turns out this was all some misunderstanding.

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: i mean don't get me wrong, you're hot and lovely and he's valid

nora: but if he was gonna have a thing for you he should have maybe considered that before he scared the piss out of you on day 1

gemma: which is why i don't think he has one at all.

gemma: i think tilly was just trying to get a reaction or she just heard some wrong information.

[gemmaosman]

acharlatan‌:

Frankie entered the room with a conscious effort to carry himself with even an ounce of grace. Schooling naturally heavy footsteps to tread lightly across the floorboards and closing the door behind him with a faint ‘click’. He hadn’t been in Gemma’s bedroom before, merely catching a glimpse of it from the door being left ajar on his way up to his own room left plenty of room for the imagination. But it’s just as expected. Neatly arranged perfume bottles on the vanity and bedside tables gleaming with polished surfaces reflected the way Gemma maintained her own appearance. Not a single peculiarity out of place and what could comfortably be labelled as a polar opposite to the way Frankie presented himself on a daily basis. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” brown eyes wash over the woman’s features with steady observation, the corner of his lip curling in admiration of her dishevelled hair and the creases on her shirt. “Am I ok to sit here?” a long finger points towards the foot of her bed, only moving forward once she grants him permission.

Opening his mouth to clarify, Frank was clasped in unexpected silence. Ten minutes before this he’d spent a good while mulling over the correct words and phrases he was going to say to Gemma, repeated them to Bentley for insurance as he got dressed and yet it’s the gentle tone in her voice that wipes his mind to an absolute blank. “Uh,” clearing his throat, he allows his shoulders to rise into a shrug if only to buy him some time whilst the words failed to form, “some of the other guys pointed out my behaviour towards you, it’s never my intention to scare you or make you feel small.” A hand hiked up to brush the back of his neck, gaze was drawn to the floor and he’s not positive if it’s his hangover or something else making him feel nervous. “I guess it’s sort of hard sometimes, to not make other’s feel small from way up here,” the same hand leaves his neck to move parallel with the top of his head, referring to his stature with stifled laughter, looking back over to her. “I guess I just wanted to come and apologise for being an inconsiderate dick.”

Gemma wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting when Frankie entered her room. She wasn’t sure if he planned on sauntering over to her bed, keen on reminding her the power he held over her in yet another state of vulnerability she was forced to exist in in this moment. But it was that vulnerability called her handover that blanketed any fear she could feel, finding it hard to cower before his presence when it was already recoiling from the bits of sunlight peeking through her blinds. She hated feeling so weak in general, hated how there was always some other feeling she could not control taking over her body. She hated how fragile she must have looked to Frankie, when she wanted nothing more than to be rid of the fear she normally felt in his presence. But then he did something unexpected; he asked to sit after apologizing for waking her, though she had already been awake, but there was a politeness to his words that she was surprised to hear, to the point where she wondered if she was just making it all up. Regardless, she nodded ever so slightly, feeling the weight of his body pressing down at the foot of her bed moments later.

Through his jumbled words, another surprise came in the form of an apology, and a genuine-seeming one at that. Gemma didn’t know Frankie all that well, but after hearing years of insincere apologies to many clients, a few mistresses, a couple children and a wife, and even to herself, she could tell the difference. The joke, though, didn’t quite register well with Gemma, for it wasn’t his height that frightened her, it was the behavior he exhibited, though it might have been accentuated by the high making his appearance more intimidating. “I’ve been through a lot,” she admitted, unable to meet his gaze as she did so. She figured that much was obvious just from her existence in this safe house. “It’s been hard for me.” Namely, it’s been hard for her to try and trust others, to not look over her shoulders every ten seconds, and to not be frightened by people like Frankie. Finally, she glanced up at him. It was brief, but it was a start. “Thank you... for apologizing.” She wasn’t sure what else to say until Nico’s words resurfaced in her memory. You need to let yourself move on otherwise you won’t find this chance for a fresh start as useful as it could be. For Gemma, she needed it to be useful. It was all she had. So, she tried to take that first step towards moving on. “Apology accepted.”

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: oh, yeah. full on sucking face in the middle of the club

nora: so like, i was real distracted

nora: frankie into you?? noooo way

nora: does he know you're significantly out of his league?

nora: though honestly so is summer, what's his angle here

gemma: that's intense. i didn't think nico would do anything like that in a million years. have you mentioned it to anyone yet?

gemma: the only interest he takes in me is seeing how many ways he can scare me before lunch. so i don't buy it.

gemma: i don't know if he even has an angle.

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: i'll tell you what, i wasn't paying a single ounce of attention to what anyone was saying down there

nora: you and tilly and frankie were all talking about something and i was too busy trying to see nico and summer, actually making out

nora: you don't remember what any of it was about? tragic

gemma: wait that's what you were on about? i thought you were joking because i got caught up in what tilly was saying.

gemma: i think she said something about frankie being into me or summer but i think she was just trying to get a reaction.

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: oh. well, that makes more sense

nora: actually that's quite nice

nora: who knew

nora: memory's a bit foggy and all that's really coming to me is frankie throwing tilly over his shoulder like a sack of fckn flour

gemma: yeah, i remember that too. i can't remember why he actually did that though...

gemma: you were on his back at the time, weren't you? did you hear anything?

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: what tf happened last night?

nora: did you and tilly makeout?

gemma: what? no, she just kissed me in the bathroom, that was it.

gemma: she said she wanted to and she was trying to take my mind off of everything.

[gemmaosman]

tillybaptiste‌:

The decorative pebbles fit snuggly in the curve of her palm, a satisfying weight that provides even further entertainment when flung into the pool with a lazy flick of the wrist. Tilly watches each one sink to the bottom to join the steadily growing collection, ripples lapping at cerulean tiles. The filter gurgles and she notes, idly, that someone more poetic may find this particular choice of activity – disrupting otherwise calm surface water for no reason beyond being bored and frustrated – extremely fitting. At the sound of a housemate approaching, something lurches vaguely downward inside her with all the wayward, blind speed of another stone through pool chlorine. Brown eyes glance upwards, watching as Gemma lowers herself to settle on the concrete beside her. “Work,” Tilly responds, flicking the plastic name badge attached to her bright red polo shirt. Her teeth grit together at the question, an inevitable query however unwanted, her answer provided in a heavy shrug. She holds the other’s gaze for a heartbeat longer before looking away, frowning. “Are people pissed off?” Evading them had been easy while on shift; less so now that she’d dragged herself home. Better to get the truth from Gemma so that she could at least brace herself. “Are you pissed off?”

So Tilly had been at work, though Gemma had thought she was off or at least not working until later. She took a good look at the name tag that hung from the red fabric, and for a brief moment, she was reminded that the name printed on there didn’t always belong to Tilly. Gemma realized she knew nothing of Tilly’s life before this place, though she figured that was intentional. She wanted to leave the horrid last moments in New York behind, so she could only imagine Tilly wanted to do the same to whatever happened in her past. But now the present obviously loomed over her like a dark cloud in the way that she shrugged. Gemma knew she wasn’t okay, but trying to get through to Tilly was a task best done with plenty of caution, lest she wanted her housemate to go off on her for showing concern. “I don’t know, I haven’t really heard if they were,” Gemma answered with a shrug. She, herself, couldn’t recall half the details, like why Frankie picked Tilly up in the first place or what exactly had been said that lead to Tilly spitting in his face. The story had too many alcohol-created holes for her to properly form an opinion. “I’m not pissed off. Should I be?”

[gemmaosman]

📱 nora + gemma

nora: are you alive?

nora: bc i'm not

gemma: barely but yes

gemma: don't know when i'll be alive enough to leave my room but i'm alive enough to respond and that counts for something