OC's! Get cha OC's here! Nice and hot!

You come to me on the day of my tadpole's wedding... navigation click here ☜

[rneraki]

the nights had gotten longer and longer, lonelier and lonelier since he’d tried to work things out with his brother. everything he’d been trying to ignore was coming back to haunt him, so tino suggesting a movie night was exactly what kit needed. a few hours of distraction where he wasn’t working or writing or worrying. so when tino texted him telling him they’d have the apartment to themselves for the night, it almost sounded too good to be true. 

and tino knew that cabin in the woods was one of kit’s favorite movies, so it said a lot that he was willing to watch it even though he hated horror movies. “you know, you don’t have to watch this with me,” he insisted, unwrapping a bag of microwave popcorn and popping the microwave open. “we can watch nightmare on elm street instead.” because that was kit’s idea of light fare. 

@mickeymouseclubhouse

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

Tino knew Kit had a lot of family shit going on. And despite the Favero’s own dysfunctional dynamic, Tino knew he could never really understand. All he could do was to continue to be present for Kit. No, he couldn’t wave a hand and make all of this... heavy pain go away... But he could cook meals. He could slip his arms under Kit’s and hold him close. He could offer trips to the arcade and long nights on the roof of the deli just listening to Kit talk or cry or whatever Kit needed to do. He’d watch ever scary movie by that kid’s side if it meant he could be helpful in some way. Kit was his best friend after all.

Don had left a note explaining he was off to play poker and to not expect him till late if at all. Even if Tino knew that that scrap piece of paper hung up with clear tape on the fridge meant that Don was probably going to see his ex-wife Tino would allow him that. They all needed their own forms of escapism. Maybe he and Euphy had used each other as means of escape at one point. Not too long ago Tino had decided (for reasons he still didn’t quite understand) that he would not be sneaking back through her bedroom window. Something told him he’d been running in the wrong direction.

 He poked Kit’s side, “I’m a big strong man whatareyou talkin’ about I don’t got to watch it with you?” He finished the slice of pizza he had in his free hand, jaw naturally unhinging like a snake, “I can handle a scary movie.” A pause, “...We just, you know, gotta leave the kitchen light on, that’s all. And listen if I grab your hand it’s cause they’re cold and I’m just tryin’ to warm them up don’t get any ideas.” Don’s pit bull snored under the kitchen table as Tino peered at the timer on the microwave. He rested his chin on Kit’s shoulder, “But I mean if you want to watch reruns of The Simpsons instead I ain’t gonna complain -- Are you gonna let me put my seasoning on the popcorn? I’m telling you I’m gonna get it in stores one day. ‘Ll be in every movie theater.”

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

#squad

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

ny isn’t ny without you love | j.r. & camille

@musegang​

If you were to ask J.R. what his least favorite place to visit was, he’d offer one of two answers: a) London or b) New York City. And yet he was continuously recruited to spend countless hours in both god awful cities. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly well-liked in London for various reasons, but New York, oh, New York was the definition of too much. Too big. Too loud. Too many people. He’d even take Vegas over the big apple in a pinch. At least he could make a fortune cheating at cards there.

Maybe J.R. was just jaded. There was a point in time when the idea of New York intrigued him. Now he was here too often, almost as if it was his second home. If there was a ceiling to hit overtop the Empire State Building, he was there, banging his head against the glass. You know what they say: Home is where the headache is.

Speaking of, he was given little to no information to go off of for this particular job, and his employer was about as helpful as a screen door on a submarine.

So, you don’t know what her name is. You don’t know where in New York she is. And you won’t tell me why you need her dead.

He was running with a flimsy description of a woman that could literally match thousands of people and a rough estimate of her location. That was all. Needless to say, if the money weren’t excellent, he wouldn’t be here right now. 

But he needed to start somewhere. Choosing the first woman that remotely matched what he was looking for and going for it. It’d be just his luck that this woman was a little thief. And a good one at that. It was all a waste of his time, but it was his fault in the first place for getting too comfortable, he supposed. No matter. Change of plans. Get his watch back. Deal with the thief. Get back to work.

He caught her later that afternoon on a secluded little side street, waiting for her when she turned the corner. 

“Well, this’s been a grand ol’ time, hasn’t it? But play time’s over.” Though he couldn’t put a name to her face, she looked familiar. And considering she had managed to steal from him meant she wasn’t just any pocket thief. “You got something of mine there. You can either give it back, or I’ll take it from you.” sliding his hands into his pockets, “Up to you, love.”

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

punk isn’t dead, it’s just tired | tino & kit

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

rneraki‌:

everytime kit let his mind drift to tino for too long, that night was always brought to the surface. it had been an adrenaline rush, their first real gig, the first time anyone that wasn’t their friends had fucking cheered for their music. kit had never felt so full to bursting with joy, and- and power, he’d felt like he could do anything. his blood coursed through his veins at mach speed, and he looked up at saw tino, his partner in crime, his best friend, the man who’d made this all happen, and they’d looked eyes, and- 

it had been an accident, lasted all of two seconds before kit realized what he was doing. and he pulled away, eyes unseeing, and before he knew it he was swept away, someone they knew from the scene clapping him on the back and congratulating him. even though his brain was spinning, and he kept pressing his hand to his lips, he decided he would pretend it had never happened, that he’d never mention it to tino again, and, well… tino hadn’t brought it up. sometimes, kit wished he would. 

the answer from the other side of the door was pretty ambiguous, and kit turned his head heavenward. adonai, i know i just basically told you to go fuck yourself, but please do me a solid. with that, kit cracked the door open, and slipped himself inside. he could have just dropped tino’s bag on the floor, if the tile wasn’t fucking disgusting. he should probably put it on the stool which would- require him to walk almost across the room, excellent. with a sigh, he ventured into the already-steamy bathroom proper. 

kit had to roll his eyes; it had been a long time since they’d shared a locker room. actually, the last time he’d seen tino almost naked was when he walked in on him and euphy, and he really did not need to be revisiting that memory right now. especially not when he was making eye contact with a nude, wet tino. the fact he looked that good could only mean that hashem was punishing him, and, frankly, he deserved it. it took a moment for him to respond, his mouth dry as he said, “maybe, but i’m not- not keen on seeing you naked right now.” he looked down, clearing his throat as he finally placed the bag on the stool. 

he was out of there as soon as he could, slipping out and shutting the door behind him before collapsing onto his bed with an audible thump and the creak of his mattress springs. kit rearranged himself so that his face was pressed against one of his pillows, mind drifting to a dangerous place along the pathway of that night he tried to forget and the fact that he’d seen tino while naked, somewhere he didn’t let it go unless he was alone. for fucking obvious reasons, he thought as he pulled his comforter over his waist. pathetic, truly. kit could cover it up lying down, but he didn’t trust himself to stand. 

so, when he heard tino finally come out of the bathroom, he did the first thing he thought to do; feign sleep. it was plausible that kit was tired, since he was always tired, but he still hoped his act was enough to fool tino. 

What was Tino supposed to say?

So remember that night when you kissed me? Well, it felt like heaven.

What if Kit hadn’t brought it up because it had been a mistake. What if Kit hadn’t done it at all and Tino was just letting his imagination carry him away. What if Tino brought it up and Kit was... put off by the idea. Because, of course, he’s not interested in that way. Was Tino?

Was he?

When Kit pulled away from him that night, Tino’s face involuntarily followed in the man’s direction, chasing after a kiss that was long over. It was all too fleeting and hazy and loud. He could weave most things into beautiful poetry but that night? That night was a scrambled mess of thoughts and feelings he didn’t understand yet but swelled in him none the less.

Tino didn’t want to think about Euphy right now either. She was the last thing he wanted to think about. They had always been able to connect on the physical, something that Tino craved and sought out. They never had an issue with sex. Everything else? Eh... They weren’t good for each other. She was too controlling, he was too free.  He wanted to walk on the wild side, she wanted picket fences. It came so easy to them when they were together because if they were fucking then they weren’t fighting. Usually. That day Kit had walked in on them they fought something awful. Which was unfortunate on multiple accounts: one) Kit had seen him in bed with Euphy (which Tino didn’t realize would be as devastating as it was), two) Euphy was upset with him because when it happened Tino seemed more concerned about Kit than her, and three) He didn’t finish because Euphy had collected her clothes and stomped off almost immediately after.

So there Tino was, more than frustrated, naked and thinking mainly of Kit. 

“Maybe.” He laughed from the shower. They were just two bros fucking around. It was fine. This was fine. Kit was soon gone, anyway. He was always slipping through Tino’s fingers.

It was like they deflated at the same time, just on opposite sides of the door. Tino’s hands ran over his wet face to his hair then back to his shoulders. 

Don’t do it.

But he was thinking of Kit now. Again. So he did what he had to do: cut the hot water until the previously pleasant shower turned into a fucking ice bath.

When he came out of the bathroom he was relieved Kit was asleep. He hadn’t bothered to put on an actual shirt yet, hair still damp, sticking to the back of his neck. He reached over Kit to close the window, gingerly moving the ashtray. At least he didn’t smell like a deli now when he sat on the side of the bed. He’d convince him to stop smoking eventually. For a couple of moments, Tino just sat and listened to the gentle breathing, hand moving without him telling it to. It was a brief, soft caress, tracing the line of Kit’s jaw, gone as soon as Tino realized what he was doing.

An exhale through Tino’s nose was his only sign of... was it frustration? Taking the notebook in his hand again and leaning back. He hummed the melody Kit had devised, occasionally murmuring little haikus to himself then jotting them down in his chicken scratch penmanship below Kit’s work. If he glanced at his sleeping companion every once in a while he couldn’t help it. Tino didn’t know it yet, but the song was about Kit after all.

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

James Reagan Bryne aka J.R. [The Marksman] - Moodboard 01

Hanged but did not die: While he was being buried he arose and asked for a drink.

[extraordinaryxmen]

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

interests: root beer floats & and long walks around the circus | shawn & nat

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

rneraki‌:

natalia had to admit, shawn really was living with the barnaby’s brand. tacky fun, reminiscent of clowns and big top tents and shiny, colorful veneers. sure, it was a brand natalia hated, but still. branding was branding, and it remained consistent down to shawn’s smile. it was pretty fucking impressive, she had to admit. even if there was something almost stepfordian about it, or perhaps that was just natalia not recognizing that someone could smile that wide genuinely. “oh, no worries,” she insisted, scratching both dogs on the tops of their heads. “they’ve got a lot of personality.” that was, admittedly, nat’s go-to veiled insult. if something had personality, it meant it didn’t fit in, wasn’t in line, was ugly or tacky or annoying. these dogs, though, they seemed pretty fun. okay, they were slobbery, but that wasn’t their fault. 

her eyes snapped back up to shawn, trying to hide her shock. “oh,” she said, trying to hide the disdain in her voice. “well, a tour of the whole park isn’t strictly necessary, shawn, and i’m sure you have more important things to do than showing me around.” as did nat; she would literally rather staple her nipples to a times square billboard then spend a moment longer in this park than necessary. but… her client insisted, and she really couldn’t piss off the client. so, all but through gritted teeth, she said, “well, if it’s not too much of a bother, i would love to.” and the collector’s cup was just… the cherry on top of a spectacular day. she couldn’t wait to throw it out when she got home. 

at least they had a golf cart, a gold golf cart with a horn, but a cart all the same. she was not walking across this park in these heels. she thanked george as he was helped into the cart, sure to smooth her skirt down and place her purse daintily at her feet. as soon as shawn started driving, though, she found herself clamping her purse between her feet, hand flying to the top of the cart. she managed a polite smile at shawn’s little spiel; in truth, natalia had never been to a theme park, but that phrase was cemented enough in pop culture for her to recognize it. at the announcement that they wouldn’t be seeing everything, nat had to bite back a sarcastic oh, phooey.  instead, she reminded herself that when she got this client, when she got promoted, she’d be thankful. 

nat even managed to give a polite laugh at that little joke. “oh, i’m sure clowning is very serious business. performance of all kinds is quite difficult.” she really should be trying to relate to the client, to pal around with her, but natalia was just so wildly fucking uncomfortable it was proving to be a tall task. she readjusted her grip on the roof, smiling at shawn as she asked, “i have to know, what’s your favorite part of the park? i’ve heard of the parts everyone seems to talk up, but i’d love to know what an insider thinks.” if shawn wanted to talk about the park instead of talking business, it was nat’s job to indulge her. 

Tacky. Shawn would take tacky. Oh, Natalia would despise Shawn’s apartment; she could see it now. She had a green velvet couch for Pete's sake, and god knows what else in there.

“We run on personality here,” Shawn responded. The wink she offered the taller woman was brief but fantastical. It was like Shawn operated only from within the endless bounds of cartoon physics. One could almost see the sparkles glitter around her face. “Nonsense!” She sang, “It’s no trouble at all.”

Shawn couldn’t help but watch Natalia out of the corner of her eyes. She was so... rigid, and Shawn? Shawn was too pliable for her own good sometimes. She knew she could be a lot (TM), but when it came to showing someone a good time, she went to whatever lengths necessary. And Natalia definitely needed to have some fun. Before the woman left the Barnaby’s pearly gates, Shawn would get her to laugh. A real one. Not that fake business laugh Nat kept throwing her way. Shawn didn’t want polite. Shawn wanted snorts. She wanted noise and glitz and razzle-dazzle. She wanted Nat to (god forbid) enjoy herself. Which would be a long shot. But by George, she’d try.

“Oh, you’d be surprised. We only hire the best here. It’s very physical, demanding work. But it’s rewarding. The first time you see the big top from, well, the top of the stadium, it’s...” A breath, “It’s not like anything else in the whole world. You aren’t afraid of heights, are ya?” Shawn was momentarily thoughtful until Natalia’s question rang in her ears, “My favorite part of the park? Oh, that’s like choosing a child -- Lemme show you!” Evidently, Shawn had no qualms with choosing a favorite offspring. “Hang on!” The u-turn was wildly and terrifying and thrilling (for Shawn), “-- Some people might assume my favorite area of the parks are my jamboree, but that’d be a little too arrogant for my tastes, not really my style. Besides! My father developed the jamboree for babies, children, it was wonderful when I was a toddler, sure, and I do still perform there, I have to, but I since moved on to a bigger stage.” The ride wasn’t long to reach the big top. A building, of course, meant to last but designed to look like a traditional circus tent.

She parked the cart out front, retrieving a ring of keys from her pocket, “We started as a traveling circus, we take heritage and history very seriously here.” She held the door open for the dogs and then Nat, immediately hit with the cool of the AC, “It’s always fun to spend time in here when it’s empty. When the door closed, and Shawn had flipped a switch then another, the place lit up one show light after the next. It was a huge arena, seats circling the center stage and rising up countless rows. She walked to the center, offering a sweet, “Watch your step.” as they navigated the grand space. “...36 feet. That’s the highest I’ve been. Almost 40.” Her eyes lit, focused skywards like she was looking at Heaven itself. “It’s like you’re flying.” 

After a moment, she turned to Natalia again, offering a shrug, “Anyway. This is my favorite part. Well, the performing is. You’re more than welcome to a show whenever you’d like. This stadium was built in ‘84. Can hold 2,700 people. Etc. Etc.” Waving a hand, that was the boring stuff. She opened a trap door in the floor and retrieved a big yellow ball she could kick to the dogs, “What about you? What’s your favorite part of an amusement park? Doesn’t have to be this one.”

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

interview with a vampire | min jae & jae sun

@oflonelyhearts​

When the news of his intern’s departure reached Min Jae, the girl was long gone. Too stressful an environment, thank you for the opportunity, blah, blah. That was the 3rd one this year. For the first time, the mousey voice of his assistant rang in his head.

Maybe you’re, just, a little, I mean, maybe just a tad too hard on them? Possibly? It’s just a thought...

At the time, Min-Jae refused to believe there was any such thing. But now... he sighed, staring out the window of his office on one of the tippy-top floors of a swanky skyrise downtown. He would try to be... nicer. Their turnover rate needed help.

The name on the papers in his hand read Park Jae Sun. Surprising. He flipped through the file. He had been expecting a Janet or Susan. And why was this name so familiar..? It was a knock at the door that pulled him from his thoughts, turning to nod at his assistant, “Bring him in.”

Jae Sun...

It wasn’t until the man entered did Min Jae remember his face. He had given a lecture at Verona not too long ago. Jae Sun had been in the class. He faintly remembered seeing the man’s photo by the sports stadium. A team captain of some sort. But Min Jae knew little about athletics, and other than Park’s presence in a college-level business class Jae Sun was one of the lucky ones; Min Jae knew virtually nothing about him. He reminded himself to be friendly, “Jae Sun, is it? Good to see you again.” He even went as far as to shake the man’s hand!! Firm and cold, eyes meeting Jae Suns with that cool gaze of his -- you know, the one that stared into your soul? Min Jae’s hands were always freezing. Some people in the office whispered that he was a member of the living dead. Small children sometimes assumed he was a vampire.

“Sit. Tell me about yourself." While he liked his coffee in the mornings, in the afternoons, he opted for jasmine green tea, the hand-rolled loose leaf that unfurled beautifully in the glass teapot. He poured himself a cup, “Tea?”

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

99 problems and leo is definitely 1 | mo & leo

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

lvghtsup‌:

he’d been walking across campus, minding his own business, when fate turned his way for a brief, shining moment. 

folio tucked under one arm, charcoal pencil tucked behind one ear, and shirt haphazardly tucked into the front of his jeans: he was, as ever, the picture of artistic, purposeful messiness. every choice was part of the image he projected on this campus, another piece of the puzzle that was leo rojas; if he presented himself as enough of a whirlwind, it’d be damn near impossible for anyone to weave together all of these little hints and uncover his marshmallow center. he had a rep to protect, after all, one that he was just barely clinging to after his ( rather spectacular ) public dumping not too long ago.

the key, the ticket, the all access pass back to his former standing was sitting on a bench not too far from leo’s usual path across the quad, cigarette in one hand and a notebook in the other. some book was tossed to the side, forgotten, and leo had already started making his way over by the time he glanced up, meeting his eyes. he being mo. moses, to be specific. what a name. 

and here, dear reader, is where we come back to fate: the scattering of mo’s papers across the ground, enough to halt him in his escape.

when an opportunity like this presented itself, leo was never one to pass. connecting with mo was hard enough on the daily, especially since he very well knew how the man saw him. that was the whole point of ava’s little challenge, though, wasn’t it ? he had damn near everyone else on this campus under his spell, and this was his chance to even out that percentage. 

approaching his target, leo knelt down next to him, abandoning his folio to one side as he helped him gather up stray papers that had escaped. “ no, no, it’s alright, ” he insisted, reaching for a piece at the same time as mo, a smile growing on his face when their hands brushed. “ you looked like you needed the help. ” he glanced down at the paper they’d both reached for, eyes scanning briefly across the page before he looked back up at mo. “ this isn’t your thesis, is it ? it sure as hell doesn’t look like one. ”

It was a sin for anyone to look like Leo Rojas. A fact that in itself made Moses feel guilty as if he was indulging in some kind of forbidden fruit every time he caught himself looking in the man’s direction. Leo was unlike anyone Moses had been surrounded by for the majority of his life. Moses saw Leo Rojas’ tanned skin and beautiful dark curls and thought: Wow, I’m so white. My family is so white. Is this a gay thought or a jealous thought? Why am I thinking about Leo Rojas?

But could you blame him? 

Moses had transferred from a school -- a seminary school -- where everyone looked like him in their white button-downs and black ties and pocket Bibles. Ugh. He had never been pursued like this before, not by anyone, let alone the one person he under no circumstances could have. His ex-girlfriend had brown hair and brown eyes too, but it just wasn’t the same. Their relationship had been planned by their parents since their birth. They were destined to be together whether Moses wanted her hand or not. It wasn’t that Laura wasn’t kind, or objectively attractive, or that they didn’t get along. It was just that when Moses held her hand, he felt little to nothing. No spark. No fireworks. And that was if she let him hold her hand at all. She was immensely devout, unwaveringly, which was impressive. Even if he wanted to explore her body under conservative turtlenecks and skirts, she would absolutely not allow him to until their wedding night. This all was just fine with Moses.

He figured that eventually, if he just played his role, kept in line, kept his head down, and got through one night alone with Laura when they ultimately got married, everything would align, and he’d be happy.

What a joke.

His father was not pleased when they broke up. And now he was here doing everything in his power to prove to Leo (and himself) that he was not interested.

Moses had yet to figure out why he had become the object of Leo’s affection in the first place. The first time Leo approached him, Moses had to ask one of the girls behind the desk at the library who the hell he was. He had to know, not that he’d let Leo know he cared so much. No. Moses wouldn’t give Leo the pleasure.

He exhaled through his nose, “Thank you.” pulling the paper towards him at the burn of Leo’s fingers against his skin. He ignored the shiver that ran down his spine, “Oh, is that why you came over? Huh.” He gathered the collected papers to his chest with one arm, reaching for the rest of his books and adding them to the pile. The more occupied he could keep himself, the better,  “Nope.” was his short response, “And if it was, I doubt you’d be interested in catechesis.” Shit, Moses himself wasn’t interested in catechesis. “They’re just... ideas. -- What’s in the portfolio?” eager to change the subject as he stuffed papers into his bag, “And before you ask, no, I don’t want to do whatever you’re about to ask. I don’t want to get lunch. I definitely don’t want to go somewhere to get to know each other better. And I don’t want to grab a --” Coffee. He was going to say he didn’t want to grab a coffee. But that wasn't until he moved to heave himself up to his feet, placing the flat of his free hand against the seat of the bench and successfully knocking the coffee he was nursing to the ground.

His eyes slipped closed. Was this God punishing him for going astray? What were those breathing exercises his therapist had given him? “...One coffee. I’ll give you one coffee.” He figured he could spin this in his favor, “And if you can’t stop me from leaving the shop the moment I get my espresso, you have to leave me alone. For good. Deal?”

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

[ghostsandgoblins]

Anastasia (1997) dir. Don Bluth and Gary Goldman

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

@lvghtsup

[sunshinekidnoir]

[rneraki]

@mickeymouseclubhouse

[ghostsandgoblins]

[evqqqq]

Lee Soo Hyuk

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

reaction videos on Twitter

“i’m pretty booked and busy this month umm don’t hit me up bretman rock calendar schedule https://t.co/qXcr7XrfM3”

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

punk isn’t dead, it’s just tired | tino & kit

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

rneraki‌:

kit’s mind dragged him to some incredibly dark places sometimes, morbidity and depression constants in his daily life. it was incredibly easy for everything to seem fucking pointless, for kit to resent the fact that he was even living. and then tino burst in, talking a mile a minute, animated and alive in a way kit could never manage. he was one of the few people who could genuinely make him laugh. like now, doing an impression of his nonna. it was stupid, incredibly stupid, but it still brought kit so much joy. 

but at least when tino was being silly, kit had an easier time admitting that he made him happy. but when he said those idle little things, that’s perfect, you’re perfect, it was a little harder to accept the small smile that crossed his features. he ran the back of his hands over his lips to hide it, briefly, until it was gone. tino flirted like he breathed, and it was a little overwhelming for kit sometimes. “thanks,” he muttered, keeping his eyes averted. “i thought you’d like it.” as if he didn’t consider what tino would think of everything he wrote before he showed it to him.

“i won’t.” he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when tino decided to jump in the shower, flopping back onto his bed as soon as he left. fuck, wasn’t getting through puberty supposed to make kit less horny. was he even finished puberty yet? just the thought made him groan. he couldn’t wait until his hormones chilled out, because there were few people more unfortunate for him to be attracted to than his best friend. one of his only friends. he rolled over, towards the door of his shitty bathroom, intending to stare at the wall and zone out. but, right in his line of sight, was tino’s bag. 

kit’s gaze drifted back to the ceiling as he reluctantly put the pieces together. this wasn’t the first time tino had showered at his place, and so kit knew he kept his clothes in that bag. and if it was out here… fuck, he was gonna need it. slowly, he reached over to the bag, hoping perhaps tino had taken his clothes with him and kit hadn’t seen, but nope. they were right there. kit gritted his teeth; great, just what he needed. either tino coming out here half-naked (which… okay, kit had seen, but never more than just glimpses when they were alone), or kit could try to slide the bag into the bathroom while tino was in the shower. 

with a huff, kit pushed himself to standing, picking tino’s bag up along the way. this wasn’t awkward, not at all. just doing tino a favor so he could make this evening as unawkward as possible for the both of them. thankfully, the bathroom lock was broken, so tino didn’t need to come to the door. all kit had to do was knock. “hey,” kit said, “you, uh, you forgot your clothes. i’m just gonna open the door and slide them in, okay?” 

It was funny (or maybe he was just stupid) how, despite everything, Tino managed to find a silver lining. And if in a moment of desperation he couldn’t see the bright side of his father’s incarceration or Mother’s alcoholism or Brother’s substance abuse, there was always his mantra: I never have to live through today again. I’ll never have to live through today again. Tomorrow is a new day.

There was always a light at the end of the tunnel. Tino knew it was there. He could see it. Feel it. He was going to make it. If he didn’t believe that, he literally might not be there in Kit’s apartment right now. He’d be in jail or flat on his face outside of a drug den in Brooklyn.

Look at Don. Don got out. His brother, as much as they fought, was a living example of things getting better. Some people don’t get out of New York. Or jail. Like their father would never.

Of course, Tino wasn’t always happy. He was capable of feeling angry and sad and scared, but at the end of the day, he had a dog to hug, or a warm meal at home or a mattress in a small efficiency apartment to escape to. Even better, he had a Novak, one of his very own, who he treasured. And like to make smile. That’s what he was after. The sound of Kit’s laugh. Always.

“Ayy. There’s a smile.”

--

It was moments like these, just now, sitting on Kit’s bed and reading his music and getting caught up in Kit just... being Kit that forced that...fever dream of a night back to the forefront of his gray matter. Pushy little memory, it was, elbowing everything else out of the way and slapping Tino in the face.

EY, dummy remember me?

Yeah. Tino remembered. He never forgot that... high. He remembered the pounding bass in his ears as the next band played oblivious to what was going on in the wing. How his eyes were still adjusting to the dark blues and purples. How he was sweaty and hot, and there were so many bodies shuffling them about. He remembers the water bottle someone somewhere had given him slipping out of his hand, eyes widening when Kit...

The knock pulled him from his thoughts, calling back an obnoxious, “Wat?” from the shower, “-- Jus’ come in!” He waited to hear the creak of the door opening before continuing, “Kitty, I got so little shame, and you've seen most of me already haven’t you? We shared a locker room at one point.” poking his head around the shower curtain to catch Kit’s gaze, “I think we’re past formalities.”