— daniel alistair wylie , penned by mira for nepofm .
introduction . established connections . wanted connections .
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@scftspoken
— daniel alistair wylie , penned by mira for nepofm .
introduction . established connections . wanted connections .
laylasfm:
“ i honestly think that's what she was expecting from me , ” she sighed , before letting out a laugh with the seriousness that the other managed to put in his words . once again layla needed to clean up her brother's messes and after all this time the student was used to it . “ no , no , i'm fine . she freaked me out at first but when i understood what it was about , i even think she was cool about it compared to some other girls . ” she remembered having to take a girl out for some air and water , she was sobbing and crying on her shoulder . zane could be a real jerk sometimes , especially when it came to girls . “ please , you know you couldn't bore me even if you tried , ” she smiled . layla , on the other hand , loved the holidays . decorating her apartment , making gingerbread houses , buying and making herself gifts for all her family and friends . “ there's always a place for you at our table . some guests will be great , as zane doesn't know if he'll make it in time for christmas . so we're going to need all the extra hands we can get . amari will even bring her new boyfriend , daddy will eat him alive . ”
a warmth fills daniel’s chest at layla’s easy assurance that he has a place of belonging , even if that place does not lie in his own family home . the question he asked was not a genuine one , which he knows they both understand – neither of them has a penchant for abandoning their family , even if that trait is cause for frequent heartache . he will be with his family during the holidays , just like he has every other year . but still , it's nice to indulge in the fantasy . “ she will ? i didn’t realize things were that serious between them . how do we feel about him ? do i need to save him from mr . khalil or do i need to participate in his untimely and tragic demise ? ”
lovebcmbs:
it’s just a lot of bittersweetness , a lot of blaming herself and knowing daniel did absolutely nothing to ever deserve the way she treats him ; to run after her , to worry about her because she’s not coming home and it’s already 4 am . and no matter what she does , she will never be able to push him away so the real question is , why does she keep trying ? he was right . they’re family, they’re supposed to have each other’s backs . he always has her . always will . she could yell , weep and beg him to leave her alone except it’s nothing she truly wants . he’s the one SAFE thing she has left , the one thing she will always have . it’s easy . it’s easy to force people to leave before you are forced to losethem over things you can’t control . constantly waking up with a fear of loss, watching people surrounding you and all your mind is thinking about how long until they’re gone , until they leave you. she shouldn’t feel this way with a family , with someone who loves her no matter how badly she fucks up , with someone who is destined to be by your side forever , right ? same thing all over again . she’s hitting her lowest , he’s here to get her up . daniel’s arm on her back is comforting , an act that reminds her how safe she is around him yet choses to push this away . a soft laugh , surprisingly — a genuine one . a cold air hits her face as they step out from a warm place into the cooler weather , zoya’s gaze wandering around . usually the night would end with so many different scenarios , leaving the bar with anyone but her brother . it’s new for her . " i don’t think i can sneak you into dad’s yacht and steal his expensive whisky , so what now ? " a lighthearted joke ; maybe a result of too many drinks or the guilt that’s been coming over to her stomach ever since the conversation about their mother was brought up . she’s aware of this bizzare picture ;the wylie siblings almost cuddled up , an evening without screaming arguments in the middle of the bar . definitely something that would blow up the internet if everyone around them wasn’t too drunk to even think of capturing the moment in a picture .
daniel marvels at the lightness in zoya’s demeanor . this carefree tone of voice is not one he is used to hearing from his sister , and at first he doesn’t quite believe it ⸻ any second now , she will remember herself , tone turning bitter and words turning acid . he doesn't remember the last time she's looked at him like this , either . he hopes she will forgive him for staring : the corners of his mouth turning ever so slightly upward as he makes a furtive attempt to commit the image to memory . the silence between them drags on for a beat , before daniel remembers zoya has posed a question . he hasn’t drunk quite as much as she has , but he still chooses to blame what he says next on the alcohol : not just the words themselves , but the dangerous hope they are infused with . “ how about you crash at my place , tonight ? i can’t promise top-shelf liquor , but we can order take-out and put on some christmas movie . unless you’re too cool for the muppet christmas carol , nowadays . ”
harveyisms:
“GOD! people online are so mean.” brows furrowing as she once again finds herself in a spiral of reading through the thousands of comments left on her instagram posts, “have you ever had to disable comments before?” brown orbs still fixated on the screen, “it’s like…i know i should…stop looking. but i can’t. i physically can’t.” a slight exaggeration but that was this generation’s problem with social media, “i may need you to take this away from me…at least for the rest of the night. maybe forever…TBD.”
“ social media isn’t real . ” the dry retort is paired with a dismissive gesture and a roll of the eyes . “ bunch of lowlifes who have nothing better to do than to sit around commenting on other people’s lives all day . you really want that kind of person to dictate your emotional state ? ” daniel can't even remember the last time he looked at instagram . his phone is currently free of social media apps , and he can’t say it’s been a great loss . therefore , harvey's confession is both amusing and slightly unsettling to him – it sounds like plain old addiction , to him . her suggestion is all the encouragement he needs to stage an impromptu intervention . “ happy to . ” with that , the device is unceremoniously plucked from the woman’s hands . “ do i need to put it under lock and key , too , or will you behave ? ”
@siadai
daniel’s phone is lying face-down on his desk . the black rectangle has proven frustratingly indifferent to the look of contempt it has had directed at it for the past several minutes . for such a small device , it has caused a disproportionate amount of trouble today . of course , the ire it is receiving from daniel is undeserved — he is well aware that the sole blame lies with him for looking at the thing during a status update meeting ( even if the meeting had been effectively inconsequential and excruciatingly boring ) , especially on one of the rare occasions that his father joined such a meeting . once the screen lit up , daniel had not needed to check the name on the display , knowing before knowing , stomach turning with the volatile mix of emotions that accompanies lightning’s texts : affection , annoyance , excitement , dread . ( texting lighting is never just texting lightning . it is : throwing darts at a board while blindfolded , taking a test without any preparation , playing an unending game of poker . nebulous intentions , endless bluffing . who will call ? who will fold ? he’s never thought of himself as a gambling man , but he must admit ⸻ there is a thrill in it . ) when the senior wylie asked him a question , daniel was a deer in the headlights , thoughts abruptly pulled from his phone , humiliation creeping up on him with every new silent second . his father didn’t get angry . he never does . that might be the worst part , daniel thinks idly : that he's apparently not even worth the breath it takes to express anger . his father simply gives him a look , and daniel is eight years old again , flinching under that eternal gaze of weary annoyance . it’s different this time , though . aside from the all-too-familiar shame , the confrontation has left something else brewing underneath his skin . something much like anger . inviting lightning to meet him inside was a mistake , he thinks suddenly . they should have met outside , on neutral ground , in a restaurant or a park — anywhere but here . here , where the suffocating memories of all his worst deeds have free rein , tainting lightning irrevocably . or maybe it’s the other way around , and he does not want lightning to see what this place has done to him . he feels both less and more like himself here — an uglier , sharper mirror image . this is how lightning finds him , eventually : eyes and hands glued once again to his phone , shooting off a final email , fingers not stopping their movement when he senses the other’s presence . “ lightning . good . ” the words are too brusque — they’re an absent-minded acknowledgement , not a true greeting . he sounds like the self-entitled son of a ceo , because in this building , that is who he is . pleasantries are unnecessary . confidence is a birthright . ( or maybe it's nothing more than a cheap facade : but if he pretends for long enough , who can tell the difference ? ) it is not , however , who he is with lightning ; so he looks up , tries again — “ i trust you were on your best behavior with jonah . or whatever passes for it . ” ⸻ but even this comes out too sharp , more chiding than teasing . christ , he sounds like his father . it is at this point that daniel reaches a decision . later , he may come to think of this moment as an error in judgment , perhaps caused by sleep deprivation , or a simple but inexplicable bout of irrationality . it doesn't matter . he's never been one to make excuses for past behavior : whatever his reasons may be , his actions are his own , and he will accept their consequences . but — he is getting ahead of himself . in this moment , here with lightning , he does the following : he stands abruptly , resolution apparent in his body language — spine straight , shoulders pushed back , eyes locked firmly with lightning's own . there is even a hint of something akin to a smile on his face . “ i know i promised lunch , but are you actually hungry ? or are you up for a small detour ? ”
lunafm:
things were pretty awkward and unresolved between daniel and luna, especially after that weird arranged date that their parents had set up for them. she had hoped she would never have to run into him again, but alas, they had far too many mutual friends for that to happen. “do i know you from somewhere? i swear, it’s on the tip of my tongue..” she began to joke, making sure it was clear enough for daniel to know that she was messing around. @scftspoken
in daniel's defense : he is not looking for a fight . as soon as he spots luna making her way into the coffee shop where he's been working for the past two hours , he slams his laptop shut and starts gathering his things . of course , his attempt at a swift exit is spoiled when luna starts speaking to him . he takes his time in carefully sliding his laptop into his bag , before he finally looks up at the other . “ right . ” the word is accompanied by a blank stare . he doesn't give a proper response to luna's question ; he has no interest in vapid banter . “ i'm sorry for leaving early . ” his tone doesn't betray even a hint of genuine remorse . “ i ... didn't see the point of wasting more of our mutual time . ”
wcnderkidz:
“ playing hard to get? ” camille razzed, perfectly aware of the deflective ways he had always tried to throw her way. an endless back and forth of barricades placed with the purpose of hindering the other’s steps that somehow had never worked – she still couldn’t understand how someone so different yet so similar could hold her like water in his hands. “ even if i feel like a bug living in your brain i can’t possibly know everything that’s going on in your head, ” except at times, she felt like she did, even without him speaking. she could sense it in his eyes, in the way in which he peered at her and when he didn’t, especially when he didn’t, and she felt this hotness, like a rough rash, unfurling on the back of her neck, that she kept scratching without directly taking care of it. and the more she grated, the more he burned, silently, the way an old oak would, with no witness, only a faint smell of scorched wood in the air. yet, that was why she had fallen from daniel in the first place, because of his roots and the way his stretching branches offered nest for her drooping moon every night. camille stopped dead in her tracks as if his words had functioned as nails to her feet, one hand colliding against his chest with meteoric predictability – she had never known how to stay too long without touching or being touched. it rested there, but her touch wasn’t usual, it felt lighter and almost hesitant as if it was the first time and her fingers were prepared to flee at any moment. they didn’t and was almost on her tiptoe, staring him in the eyes and hers rebounded between his, absorbing equal parts of his iris. “ you did? ” there was a hint of surprise in her voice, not that of someone taken aback, but one similar to waking up on hristmas and finding the so-wished-for present wrapped under the tree. “ thank you, ” she beamed, somewhat close to the sun rays hitting the back of her head, “ but i hate you a little bit for never showing it to me, ” she added, squinting her eyes, picking and choosing between the reasons why he would possibly keep it hidden from her. she could guess the answer, like stumbling home late at night with no capability of remembering anything – she’d find her way home anyway. captured by another whirlwind, camille resumed her walk and found herself a few steps ahead of him because sudden and abrupt, but the distance was soon reduced by the tugging of his voice. “ oh, because you aren’t already all of that? ” camille shot him a glance, an endeared dagger used as warning, “ i know your games, daniel wylie — you can’t fool me. ” she chose to ignore his question, it had never been about her and she would never make it to be. “ you would make a terrific writer with all the thoughts you keep in there ———— actually, once i read a quote of this writer saying how he could only put into words the things he lived once he felt distant from them – so maybe that’s what’s stopping you —- you still feel everything too vividly, ” she spoke as if her words were similar to ephemeral truths, like if talking about the weather or what she had eaten that day, “ you know that you’re entitled a heart —– right? ”
camille has caught him red-handed : he feels like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar , so his answer draws from the same childish imagery : boy pulling at girl’s pigtails to get her attention . “ ... you’re very pretty , for a bug . ” her touch comes both as a comfort and a shock . it’s not the physical sensation itself that has daniel blinking at her in surprise , but her hesitancy ⸻ the silent question in the air : is this okay ? as if he could ever recoil from her , as if she could ever be too much . on instinct , both of his hands come up to wrap around hers . his touch is as featherlight as hers , but together their hands form something greater than the sum of their parts — a steady , warm weight against his heart . his answer to her question is apparent , even if it is likewise not released into the air : yes , always . her unabashed stare is a more challenging trial , and he nearly buckles under its strain . it is a wonderful , terrible thing : to be seen by camille ackerman . daniel has never had a talent for holding the gaze of the people he loves . his eyes inevitably look for an escape route , darting away in a stubborn refusal to be held in place and scrutinized . he perseveres . camille’s gaze is held with tentative but devoted attention . fondness soon makes his eyes crinkle , even if his lips don’t move into a smile accordingly . ( baby steps : he has yet to master that trick , as well . ) daniel can’t quite believe that his attempt at romantic expression has inspired such delight in her , especially when he has admitted that it amounted to nothing more than abject failure . moment of truth , then : this is where he finally breaks away from her gaze , trial failed , turning bashful and slightly embarrassed by her misdirected gratitude . except ⸻ he doesn’t . the script is flipped : instead of looking away , he drinks her in , matches her smile — his tinged with amused disbelief rather than joy , but genuine nonetheless . surely , the last few grief-filled months have earned him this single moment of shamelessness . he considers her rhetorical question in earnest , thinks of the words he has used to describe himself ⸻ naturally hones in on the least flattering of them ; picking at imperfections comes easy . “ insufferable ? ” he clarifies , but the word falls from his mouth light like laughter , offense held at bay . seen from her eyes , his self-depreciation gets a more gentle sheen : not brooding , but introspective . not navel-gazing , but thoughtful . daniel’s question is left unanswered , but he doesn’t dwell on it . he’s always accepted that some part of camille will forever remain unknowable to him . explaining away all her mysteries would feel sacrilegious , in some way , like he’s inappropriately questioning the secret ingredient in a friend’s old and treasured family recipe ( the answer is always the same , anyway , unspoken but plain as day : it’s love , of course ) . “ if he was telling the truth , i will never be able to write about you , ” he responds — not a lament , but a promise . distance has never been an option , not with her . “ but i don’t understand . i feel too vividly , yet you remind me i’m entitled to a heart . so which is it : do i feel too much , or not enough ? ” the question is asked with genuine curiosity : tell me who you see when you look at me .
lovebcmbs:
she’s stubborn . just like that . barely ever able to admit it herself that she’s wrong when it’s just her and her mirror reflection , let alone when it’s in front of daniel yet it’s not like her hurt would even let her see past that . it’s the same scenario all over again . weeks , sometimes even months of zoya putting all of her feelings in a box tucked far away inside , until the box is overfilled and she just has to snap , she has to let it all out yet most of the times , it was just her , doing her stupid shit for the entire night or two in a row . she doesn’t remember the last time she just talked; an act that was simple , but forced her to use all of her strength to continue talking . maybe she missed that , not that she’d ever admit it . “ i never asked you to chase me , ACTUALLY - i asked you to leave me alone . ” she did , multiple times , deep down being thankful that he never did but it’s a feeling she refuses to accept , without realizing that if it wasn’t for daniel , she might’ve gotten herself in trouble or danger a long time ago . " go . connect with her , at least you will . you don’t have to babysit me , i’m fine. " yet another lie , she became so good at it that she doesn’t even flinch , not a single muscle on her face moves and not a single habit that would ever let him know she’s lying . but it became a lie so common that only an idiot would believe her . a loud swallow as his words get to her , chewing on her cheek now before she finishes her drink . an alcohol burning in the back of her throat , a heat coming through her body - uncertain if an unhealthy amount of drinks were the cause or was it all of the feelings inside of her , all of the feelings this conversation brought up . " i can’t be around her . she makes me physically ill . " if only she’d know that the way she feels about their mother is somewhat similiar to how he might feel about their father . maybe if she did , they’d find a common ground , more understanding . for the first time this evening , she sniffs . she hates the wall she created ; the wall that doesn’t allow her to say words as simple as ’i’ve always got your back ’ , the wall that doesn’t let her get vulnerable , emotional ,real , genuine with her own brother ; someone she loved , someone who never left her for a split second despite her attempts to force him to leave her . " i need some fresh air . " a sudden change of where their conversation was going , she leaves money on the bar table as she’s trying to grasp for balance while standing up . usually , she’d just leave . leaving daniel behind , not even looking at him ; she’d try to get as far away as possible , probably forcing him to look for her again . " it’s dark , i can hear the drunk guys outside . do you wanna come with me ? "
“ you didn’t , ” daniel agrees easily . despite the animosity he sometimes feels for his sister , he knows she has never asked him for anything . he cannot grant himself absolution by shifting the blame of their rift onto her . instead , he knows the cause lies in his egotistical need to hold on to her , when zoya wants nothing more than for him to let her go . so when she urges him to leave , he falls quiet despite her blatant lie , hesitates . isn't she an adult now ? if she so desperately wants to self-destruct , shouldn't he let her ? he knows it was callous of him to pit her sisterly loyalty against her distaste of their mother ; has seen the way zoya flinches at her presence in much the same way he does with their father . loyalty is one thing , a blatant disregard for your own emotional well-being in favor of someone else's is another ⸻ that's always been his domain , not hers . so perhaps this is the solution to their stalemate ( not a perfect one , but a viable one ) : let zoya go , go home , forget this night ever happened . what makes him the worse person ? the fact that he considers abandoning his sister , or that he ultimately does not ? when zoya stands and sways , daniel is out of his chair before he can consciously make the decision to , arm coming up to brace against his sister's back in order to keep her firmly on her feet . the action is born out of the well-worn path they are both familiar with , simple cause and effect : zoya needs him , so daniel will not leave . “ easy there , lightweight , ” he teases . he maneuvers his way around his coat pocket to extract some bills out of his wallet with one hand , leaving them next to his unfinished drink without bothering to count them . “ of course i'm coming . someone needs to keep those poor guys safe from you . ” as the siblings make their way towards the exit , daniel leaves his hand resting lightly on the small of zoya's back — whether for her comfort or his own , he cannot say .
laylasfm:
“ oh , i forgot to tell you ! i was leaving a lecture , minding my own business , when a girl just grabbed my arm and started yelling at me . guess what happened … ”— “ ding - ding ! zade's ex , another ex . apparently he didn't tell her he was moving to l.a. or whatever , ” she rollled her eyes . layla loved her brother , but it was so hard to be his sister . “ but tell me , what's going on with your life ?” asked , dark hues finding the other's .
“ layla , i can’t believe you . you’re supposed to give any ex-to-be a seventy-two hour warning in advance . there’s an entire chapter about it in the “ being the sibling of a menace to society ” handbook . clearly , someone's slacking . ” the words are said with utmost seriousness , but the twinkle in daniel’s eyes betrays him . however , genuine concern invades his expression as he rethinks something the other has said . “ wait — she didn’t hurt you or anything , did she ? your arm okay ? ” he gives a half-shrug as a response to her question , before adding : “ — not much , i guess ? work has been a drag , haven’t had much time for anything else . we’re making sure that anything important is dealt with before christmas . i don’t want to bore you with the details . ” he pauses , sighs . “ not looking forward to the holidays , actually . i’ll take rewriting influencer contracts over trying to make awkward small talk with my family during the most wonderful time of the year any day . any chance your folks would take me in ? i can help cook and everything . ”
adelinelives:
the person in the paparazzi pictures is more character than human. the caricature: angular, glassy-eyed and wan, with her eternally red-tipped nose. cold to the touch, yet red with blood that fights an infection, from breaking and reconstructing her nose one too many times, until it loses; the nose turns black and falls from her face. a classic model’s story: a story her mother would put her to bed with. it ends with a skeletal nose to match the rest of her face. that’s all she can see: her body growing more misshapen every day. how could anyone want to keep an unnatural image like that around? and yet, the raindrops collect there, her skin remembering where his thumb warmed her cold, purple-bagged under-eye. indented permanently from his thumbprint. ( and something grotesque roused within her, something heavy and impenetrable. something inaccessible yet familiar like a childhood home. something like fondness. ) bleary-eyed: her eyes are dry. the raindrops freeze on her cheeks, making them redder and redder. the flush will photograph badly, making her look ill like a child inflicted with tuberculosis. rotting and breathing. but he doesn’t mind; he even brought her close. he has his father’s smile, but still calls it his own. he showed a glimpse of it to her. it should be nice to see a smile, shouldn’t it? the cards are in his hands, right where she left them. where she wanted to leave them. idle dwellings: his father probably couldn’t put a face to her name. she wishes there were timestamps for unsent texts, to actually feel the date changing every day. plucking clumsily at her own thin, taut heart strings, incapable of producing musical notes. off-key: unnatural. and yet, warm. he keeps her warm in this rain, like a reflection unconstrained. his smile thrums her strings in a way she doesn’t care for. ( read: most people introduce themselves with a “ you have your mother’s smile, ” to her. ) there are no more words unsaid; there is only the present where the cards are evenly distributed between their hands. no advantage. “ why would they ask? we’re the public discourse, aren’t we? streaking even with our clothes on. especially with our clothes on. ” it’s easy, he’s easy. she knows him like the back of her hand. bad non-father, annoying mother, difficult sister, unwanted and fated vocation. too easy: too close. if she pulls at him again, he might pull away so both would get the space they want from each other. “ but i’m not above a cuddle session in the middle of the street. then it’s an ‘ i’m not crying, i’m just happy to see you ’ kinda situation. if neither of us have gotten better at smiling, it’d be a boring drama. too easy to predict the ending, y’know? ”
“ i suppose you’re right . ” a reminder daniel doesn’t like , evident in the way his brows furrow in consternation , before smoothing back into neutrality . her metaphor is disturbingly apt . it’s something he tries not to dwell on much ( he has no desire to add ‘ prone to self-indulgent pity parties ’ to his list of flaws ) , but it never gets any easier : the headlines , the gossip blogs , the twitter mentions . it’s disorienting , seeing yourself spoken of like a chess piece in a game you never consented to . it makes him feel like an uninvited guest to his own surprise party ⸻ or no , not even that : not a person , but a lifeless thing without agency , as incapable of deciding his own faith as any random piece of furniture . every time his picture is taken without consent ( the most recent offender : a blurry picture of daniel entering some overpriced flashy restaurant with luna hernandez ) , an invention ( or worse still , the truth ) is shared without request for comment , the unsettling feeling returns : affront and vague embarrassment , like he had indeed been captured naked . daniel hesitates , not sure whether he should take her words as jest ⸻ or whether that's simply what he wants to do . adeline’s suggestion inspires a strong wave of reluctance . he still feels … fickle , less than human , not quite present . with someone else , physical touch might serve as a gentle reminder that he is in fact inhabiting his body ⸻ but with adeline , he is certain that the sensation would be more akin to being woken from a bad dream with a bucket of ice water . by the time he has decided he should hug her ( for old time’s sake , if nothing else ) , an uncomfortable silence has fallen between them , and he loses his nerve . to save face , he admits : “ i like predictable endings . they’re predictable because the audience can make sense of the characters’ actions before they are even carried out . doesn’t that suggest that the characters are the truest , most honest versions of themselves ? ”
siadai:
Daniel’s gentleness hits him like a slap to the face. Any human being capable of recognizing patterns could have predicted this, but Lightning each and every time believes, fully and completely, that this will be what finally pushes Daniel Wylie away. And if Daniel had any sort of sense of self-preservation, he would have run far away by now: but he doesn’t, and Lightning is selfish, and Lightning is left only to marvel once more at what is in front of him, what remains in front of him. I’ve missed you, offered without having to beg; I’m sorry, offered at all. It takes him a few seconds to reel from it; to find his footing after the anger has been slipped from under his feet. Lightning runs his fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes, allowing himself to breathe for some moments. “I didn’t,” he admits, finally, after some moments. “I didn’t mean it.” And Lightning, ever unable to keep his thoughts to himself, says: “But if you had left, at least I would have been able to say that it was because I told you to. I’m sorry,” he says again, and he resists the urge to bite his lip, to curl his fingers just to feel pain. “I really am sorry.” Lightning says this like a votive, and he doesn’t exactly understand why, because he means every word of what he has so furiously said to Daniel, or at least he believes that he does, and there is little to no difference between the truth and what is believed to be true. Lightning is out of words, out of actions, rid of everything but this soul-searing shame which feels like insects crawling into his skin to settle into his bones. It doesn’t last long. Lightning cycles through emotions at the rate of a thousand per second, and he thinks about what Daniel has said, lost in the whirlwind of what he himself has said, amalgamating into a push and pull of persuasion, and how skillfully Daniel had appeased and diffused, as though it were second nature to him, and how easily Lightning had let him. The shame rises again, ever eager to be at the front — “I don’t deserve — “ he begins, but doesn’t continue. Lightning is selfish: he may not deserve whatever it is he is claiming not to deserve, but he will accept it anyway. “You’re wrong, Wylie.“ Wylie, meant to distance, meant to detach from any form of intimacy. “I’m not good, and one day you’ll realize it, and I hope for your fucking sake it won’t be too late.” Regardless, Lightning sighs, and he nods, and he walks past Daniel — and he doesn’t really know where he’s going, he just wants to busy himself. He ends up by the kitchen counter to where Daniel had been preparing food. “Right. Come here, then. What were you making, anyway? I’ve never really cooked before. Tell me what to do.”
daniel should feel relief at lightning’s concession . and for one exhilarating , victorious moment , he does — overwhelmingly so . but like a candle burning too bright to maintain its flame , the sensation ebbs away almost instantaneously , replaced with an emptiness that feels like nausea . it is a curious thing , this giving of himself as a balm against conflict : vulnerability as peace offering , not as readily given gift . there is no joy in it , only a sense of shame and ( if daniel is honest with himself ) resentment . sometimes he imagines lightning as a slow-acting poison , corroding him from the inside until he has given all of himself , until there is nothing left to give . he knows it is unkind to think of his friend in this way . if lightning is poison , daniel has ingested him all too willingly . no one demanded he make this bargain ; he signed up for it eagerly the moment the older man opened his eyes in that hospital bed ⸻ and just as with the obligations he meets as his father’s obedient son , he will meet the demands of this new pledge dutifully and without complaint . even if lightning had wanted to finish his sentence , clarify whatever it is he thinks himself undeserving of , daniel would not have allowed him to . i don’t deserve — the statement is so patently ridiculous coming out of lightning's mouth , the error in his assumption so glaringly obvious that daniel wants to laugh ( but if he did , it would be a laugh without humor ) . if there is a person undeserving of this friendship , it is not lightning . “ you deserve far more than i can ever give you . ” his tone is that of a parent explaining a basic fact of life to a child . the sky is blue , the leaves fall from the trees in autumn , and you deserve … everything . whatever substitute daniel can offer instead will never be enough , because daniel himself will never be enough . it’s a fact he has made his begrudging peace with . he does not deign to provide lightning’s warning with a response , because he does not believe it warrants one . not because it convinces him of anything , but because lightning’s entire point is moot . if the other man is right , despite his own fervent belief to the contrary , then it is already too late for daniel . how can you warn a person to step away from a fire , when its heat is the only thing keeping them warm ? lightning holds his unflinching loyalty . if that loyalty proves to be misplaced , there is nothing that can be done about it now . as lightning moves towards him , daniel steps aside , the other's nearness suddenly stifling . “ actually — maybe you were right about taking a rain check on lunch . ” he lifts his bandaged hand up at lightning by way of explanation , apologetic smile on his lips . “ we have one fully functioning hand between us , and i have to head back to the office soon . i'll order you something before i head out , though . wouldn't want you to starve without my excellent cooking skills . ” it’s a weak excuse , even to his own ears . where he was so assured he would do anything to stay mere minutes ago , the wariness that he feels now makes him want to put distance between lightning and himself . it's not a permanent desire , though — never that . it’s simply a chance to lick his wounds before he inevitably makes his way to the fire again .
lovebcmbs:
it’s a fight she’s going through , it takes everything in her to bite her tongue ; for once not wanting to start a fight with daniel , perhaps a result of too many drinks in a short amount of time .she isn’t a mother - is what zoya’s thoughts are screaming , wanting so bad to leave her mouth but she doesn’t let them . at least until their dad doesn’t come in the picture . it’s funny , how their parents are the reason they’re both here yet it looks like they’re also one of the reason why zoya and daniel are distant . she notices the way daniel calls him , wasn’t the first time . it’s also not the first time she chooses to ignore it . “ maybe their marriage wouldn’t be complicated if she stayed around more often , daniel . ” her tone back to sharp , it’s as if their mother was a trigger for her . she is . ironically , it’s also the first time in however long that zoya says more than two words in one sentence around daniel , an amounts of alcohol she poured in her body definitely untying her tongue . “ if she thinks blowing up my phone in the middle of the night telling me to go home will make it up for all the times dad was the one doing it , she’s wrong . she can’t fly back home once a month and act like dad for one night . or you . ” despite countless fights zoya has with their her dad , at least he was always there . at least it was either him or daniel , driving to the other side of the city just to drag her back home after she didn’t pick up . it was him and daniel pep talking her about how irresponsible she is , about how something could happen to her . “ she doesn’t even call me . she texts me , sure , but she doesn’t call me . i’m not going to pretend that her disappearing from my life doesn’t bother me and i’m not going to act that she can take dad or yours place when she’s around for what , two days ? a week ? i’m sure she’s already packing her bags . ” she knows she will regret this in the morning , she won’t be able to face daniel for at least two days until they act like this evening didn’t happen . she haven’t showed him how their mother’s absence affects her ; at least not the same way she did now . by using words , which she rarely does .
cruelty nearly falls off the tip of daniel’s tongue faster than he can swallow it down , but he catches it just in time ; forces down the impulse to confront zoya with her own hypocrisy . he merely shoots her a glance , a brief twitch of his brows the only acknowledgement that he can taste the irony in her words . he knows her dating history ( has let her cry on his shoulder for each of her heartbreaks ) — he is perfectly aware that desperately carving a way out for yourself when someone gets too close for comfort is a trait they have both inherited from their mother . it isn't until zoya is done with her confession that daniel realizes he's been holding his breath all throughout it . it's fitting , in a way . talking to his sister has always felt like walking a tightrope , holding your breath until you have successfully navigated your way over it — or until it snaps . the breath leaves his mouth in a worn out sigh . he wonders if the action is a precursor to stepping off the rope and reaching the other side , or to falling into the abyss below . “ of course it bothers you , i never said that it doesn't . or that you have to pretend that it doesn't . you think i didn't want a parent around when we were kids ? ” ( parent , singular , because the man he calls his father has never been interested in fulfilling the duties of that role . ) “ but she's here now , and i'm trying to use what little time we get with her to connect with her , and instead i have to waste my time chasing you down across the city every time you pull one of your little disappearing acts . ” daniel suddenly remembers himself : the two of them are in a bar , there are people around who would love to get the inside scoop on the wylie siblings' newest argument — so he lowers his voice , leans in closer to zoya to stare her down . “ do you even know how selfish you're being ? i thought we were supposed to have each other's backs . ” his skin crawls at how petulant ( how needy ) he sounds , but he doesn't avert his gaze from hers . if tonight is the night they air all their grievances , they may as well cut right to the heart of it .
adelinelives:
@scftspoken said: UMBRELLA : for one muse to share their umbrella with the other on a rainy day.
eyes closed : pause. five heartbeats per breath, calm and steady. her clothes soak into her skin; her body sheds the glisten of her sculpted clay-body. the screaming cold feels warm among these liquid crowds flooding the streets. i should taste the rain, she thinks, feel the tangy drops on my tongue. the rain, however, stops before she can consider it any longer. eyes open : next scene. enter daniel, almost a head taller and holding an umbrella over them. rain patters sharply above them, and she feels her feet again. she can’t distinguish his features, raindrops from her brow bone fall into her eye. he encroaches on her bubble of warmth, suffocating her back into the present. she sniffs wetly, makes herself titter and looks at the ground. there must be mascara running down her cheeks. “ you’re taking my breath away, danny, and without even a little hug, ” she says, like he’s too close to her. her arm wraps into the crook of his elbow, trying to corral him away from this storefront. her face can’t be puffy in this rain, but there must be mascara cresting at her neck. “ you should bring me to get new clothes, y’know. so people don’t think you made me cry in the middle of the street. ”
it has been one of those days . a day of balancing books that cannot be balanced , making phone calls with victims clients consisting in large part of thinly veiled threats , listening to his father’s ever-present judgements of him ( whether real or imagined ) ... — and that was before noon . the rest of the day was worse . he desperately longs to go home , slip out of his wrongdoings like they are merely an ill-fitting and itchy suit , and sleep the evening away in a pleasant haze of ignorant unconsciousness . messenger bag slung over his shoulder and umbrella in hand , he makes his way out of the office preparing to do just that . instead , there is this : adeline , standing motionless in the pouring rain , snow queen from the old fairy tale made flesh and blood . the sight makes him shiver . not only because of his friend’s sudden and frosty appearance , but for the guilt that creeps up on him , as biting as the cold . the last time he reached out to adeline … well . it has been a while . the image of warm blankets lingers tantalizingly in his mind , but he can’t just leave his friend out in the cold . before he can change his mind , he is standing beside adeline , shielding her from the rain with his umbrella . a weak smile paints his lips to greet her , the emotion not quite reaching his eyes . he doesn’t respond to her teasing , but the comment makes him stiffen a little , suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close the shared umbrella has forced them to stand . “ do you want a hug ? ” the question is asked dispassionately , not betraying his own opinion on the matter . despite daniel's unease about the pair's proximity , adeline's comment still has him gently swiping his thumb under her eyes to rub out some smudged mascara that has collected there . “ you think they will ? ” he wonders fleetingly — but catches himself before he can take the thought any further , breathing a self-conscious chuckle . at some charity dinner a few years ago , the event's organizer had asked him to introduce her to his sister . the woman had shifted her body expectantly — not towards zoya , but to adeline . it wasn't the first time he's been told the two are as two peas in a pod : their stoic stares , their work ethic , their downright stubborn refusal to share much of their private lives . he’s never understood the comparison . his aloofness is a learned skill , a defense mechanism . by comparison , hers seems genuine , effortless . something about being around adeline always intensifies his tendency towards overthinking , her undecipherable countenance making him interpret innocuous comments as attack or warning . “ i think people believe what they want to believe . nothing we can do to change that . ” it’s a nice sentiment , but it’s not his ⸻ it’s hers . an old habit : sewing costumes of other people’s opinions and behaviors , only to cloak himself in them during moments of uncertainty , mirroring the threat the individual back at themselves . i am you , you are me — you cannot attack your own reflection . it feels like safety and suffocation , simultaneously . the trait is especially prominent with adeline , not just due to the secret shared between them that has him avoiding eye contact with her as he walks in the direction she’s pulling him in , but because he doesn’t remember ever feeling on sure footing with her . “ besides , who am i to deny adeline livingston her fair share of drama ? if anyone asks , make it a good story , will you ? ” the day has already left him feeling like a monster , the media might as well paint him as one .
wcnderkidz:
it seemed like a story depicted in old black and white films when in cinemas it was still difficult to separate the reality faded by the smoke of young cigarettes from the imaginary lives represented on the screen; when dreaming was even easier than hoping. to some extent, camille felt like one of those characters who couldn’t be fully grasped, like a projection of something both there and somewhere else: it made sense that the only person ever capable of grasping her was someone as aerial, ghostly, almost transparent — who silently begged to be looked at without ever asking. yet she had caught a glimpse of him in the dim light of the caffe, hidden behind a book, without needing nor wanting a cue. and so the girl fell in love with the foreigner, a tale old as time. “ you know what i think? ” like the mast of an old sailing ship damaged after years of battling the whacking waves, camille swayed with open arms on a wall too low to fall from, twisted by her fervid imagination into the only gap separating her from the chasm below her every time she closed her eyes and purposely pushed one foot too far. “ well, it’s not really a thought, more like a guess — a wild shot, hands tied behind your back, blindfolded and all, ” she hopped off, no longer interested in her play-pretend, and rushed to face daniel with such an urgency that made her seem itchy as if thousands of ants had crawled from the tip of her toes to the highest point of her thighs, and she moved so relentlessly with the hope of kicking them away. “ you look like the kind of guy who thinks in poem shapes, ” a statement left at that, uncaring of explanations just as she was unconcerned of any obstacle that could’ve presented itself in the way of her backward steps.
“ a wild shot ? ” daniel repeats , amused , certain camille will understand his teasing tone . there are no wild shots to be taken about a person so in tandem with your own thoughts , who sees the world exactly as you see it . it’s like trying to bring yourself to laughter by tickling your own feet : an exercise in futility . however , it's also an avoidance of the question , one that he knows the other won't stand for ; so he shakes himself , mirrors her steps on the solid ground alongside her as he takes a moment to think of his answer . even though the wall is low , his hands are itching to steady the swaying girl in case of a stumble — but as she rights herself on the earth below and faces him , he realizes with fondness that there was never any chance of that . she is more sprite than human , after all . if she had not joined him on the steady ground , if she had opted instead to float up-up-upwards and away , until there was nothing left of her but an ever-diminishing speck on the horizon , he doubt he would have been surprised . heartbroken , yes , but understanding of the fact that some people simply do not belong to this world . “ i tried to write you a poem , once . ” he had written countless opening lines , filled his waste paper basket to the brim before he had given up on the endeavor altogether . in the end , the dilemma had been unsolvable : anything other than a reflection of his true feelings for her was unacceptable , but every time he came near that truth the blatant display of emotion on the page made his stomach turn with embarrassment . he feels the same prickle of discomfort now , the same duality : longing and repulsion at the thought of being vulnerable with her . he squashes it down . however , the urge for self-deprecation remains — cutting himself down before anyone else can , even though camille has shown him over and over again that it is an irrational fear , at least as it pertains to her . finally , he adds : “ but — ah , i just don't think i'm cut out to be a writer . all that brooding and navel-gazing . it would make me so insufferable that you would finally stop wanting to be associated with me , and then where would that leave me ? … ⸻ is it my turn now ? ”
siadai:
“Yes, Daniel, happy for me,” Lightning says, and he tries to keep himself calm, he really does, and if one knew him well then they might be able to tell by the way his voice shakes as he says: “You don’t understand. You don’t. I am jealous and possessive and controlling and angry and absolutely fucking insane and I am irreparable to the core for the sole reason that I don’t want to be fucking fixed, for the reason that I like it this way — and fuck, Daniel, I’ve fucked my own brain up to the point that I can’t feel anything or I feel everything at once and I want to scream and I want to hide in the darkness, I’ve fucked my brain up to the point that some days I can’t fucking tell what’s real and what’s not, and the only thought I have to cling to is that it doesn’t matter if it’s real or not, because Farley is here, and how could I ever need anything else? You don’t know what it’s like to share the world with someone who looks at it the same way that you do, who looks at you with all your faults and all your flaws and thinks to fucking love you for them, every bit of you; you don’t know what it’s like to have someone be as fucked up as you — except they’re so good, they’re so fucking good at hiding it, and they can go to school and go to work and be fucking normal and act like they’re not as fucked in the head as I am, and — they have a million fucking choices, all of them better than I am, and it hurts, it hurts, but every fucking time they come back to me!” Anger is anger is anger but this time his rage is borne with hurt, a defiant need to get the other understand for god knows what reason. “And we fucking dance with daggers at each other’s throats and I don’t trust them and everything they says makes me question everything I am and they destroy me and I destroy them and it’s a neverending fucking cycle, and I don’t know how to possibly explain this to you, but I have never believed in anything in the way that I believe in them.” Faith to the point of apotheosis; Farley could be nothing less than god to Lightning, his heart in the mercy of their palms. “I need them — I need them, because no one will ever love me the way that they do, because I have no one except for Farley, no real friends who know me for more than a night of thrill and excitement, because anyone who so much as gets a glimpse of how fucked I am in the head turns and runs for damn good reason. Everyone else in this world will leave me, but Farley will always be there — “ Except, in the trail of thoughts of this anger, Lightning realizes something and so the anger turns to guilt; so the anger turns to shame. And he doesn’t speak what makes him pause, and instead he only looks away. “Fuck. I’m sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean to make you my fucking therapist.” Shame rises up his throat and it makes him even angrier, and he turns his head away because he doesn’t want the other to see — there, glittering, at the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t know whether it’s this or his words that make him feel this bone-wrenching rage. “Sorry to have wasted your time today. Let’s — have lunch another day. Or never. I don’t know. I need to — fuck — I don’t know. Just fucking go.“
if there is one concept daniel has never understood , it’s that of the fight or flight response . it has never been in daniel’s nature to run from that which is hurting him , but putting his fists up and protecting himself with violence and harsh words is also an unfathomable thought . from his personal experience , he knows that fight merely increases conflict , while flight postpones it . his entire life , he’s chosen a third option . the third option looks like : leaving your own needs and desires at the door , staying pleasant through anger and hurt , apologizing , apologizing , apologizing . even though he can tell that lightning is holding back his anger , a lifetime of being trapped in never-ending conflict has him acutely aware of the danger that has presented itself in the turn the conversation has taken . no , neither fight nor flight represent how daniel alleviates the gut-wrenching dread he feels at any sign of conflict . instead : “ i’m sorry . ” his brows furrow in supplication , his voice imbues the apology with earnestness . he doesn’t feel anything . “ you’re right . i’m sorry . ” the acquiescence is given to soothe lightning’s anger , but its purpose is somewhat ambiguous . daniel can barely decide what he is agreeing to and what he is apologizing for . perhaps it is this : you’re right , i don’t understand . it is also : i’m sorry i can’t make myself do this for you . it’s the first thing of any importance he’s had to refuse lightning . the realization makes him feel sick . but here , because lightning is holding back , because lightning is being kind , daniel makes an attempt at explanation . it comes out almost apologetically : “ i just — i don't see that in you . i never have . you might be angry and possessive and whatever else you say you are , but that doesn’t make you irreparable . you’re just scared to do the work that’s necessary to change , because you can’t imagine an alternate ending , because you’ve lost what you thought was your purpose , so now your purpose has become this … — this toxic , all-consuming horror show . but i promise you that there is an alternative . we just have to find it . you’ve just been stuck in the same place for so long that you can’t see that . but i can see it . you're good , lightning . you could be so ... ” he grasps at language that conveys the light he sees in the other , the passion that would burn all the greater if it was controlled , redirected to desires less self-destructive . “ good . ” he finally repeats , helplessly . he stands motionless as lightning spits his venom at him , his words reverberating in daniel’s skull : i have no one except for … ⸻ . no matter . it has never been in daniel’s nature to run from that which is hurting him , so he draws closer instead , gentle as with a startled animal . he’s seen lightning’s anger countless times , always just as easy to materialize as it is to melt away , but this anger ... this is something else entirely . “ that’s okay , ” he interjects . “ i want to know what’s on your mind . i asked , didn’t i ? ” at the other’s command , daniel merely gives a brusque shake of the head , the motion not betraying the desperation that the request has ignited . or never ? silence fills the kitchen for a long beat as he forces the panic down , makes his jaw unclench enough to form words . “ you don't mean that . ” lightning's anger has never managed to push him away before . today will not be an exception . “ you don't . ” ( he’s not sure whether it’s lightning or himself he is trying to convince . he’s not sure whether either objective is successful . ) “ i just pissed you off and now you're lashing out and i’m sorry .” the number of apologies that have been exchanged between the both of them is almost comical , he thinks absentmindedly . if a tree falls in a forest and all of the culprits apologize for felling it , can the sound of its destruction be ignored ? if they are both repentant enough , will they be able to erase this entire conversation and start over ? “ we don't need to talk about this anymore . ” he gives a brief glance over his shoulder at their food , now spotted with his own blood — his stomach turns , appetite long gone . “ or eat . we can just ... talk . talk about something else . anything else . please , lightning . i — i’ve missed you . ” the desperate lunge for vulnerability makes him cringe ; the confession feels like a meager offering in exchange for the preservation of a friendship .
lovebcmbs:
it’s the same circle all over again . both of them falling into their unhealthy habits, checking out who’s gonna cross the line and back away from the harsh words but it’s never leaving the other . and just like right now , sometimes it’s switching the topic ; sometimes it’s just sitting in silence but neither of them leaves … i guess it’s the silence that’s the worst possibility . it forces zoya’s mind to wander , to think of what if’s and should have’s .what if she bit her tongue this time , avoiding getting into another verbal clash with daniel ; what if they just spent their evening like your every day brother and sister , with playful teasing at most , without any bitterness . she should have bit her tongue a lot more . she should have let him in , instead of pushing him away . and for once , she bites her tongue . mention of their mom is triggering for her , it pushes her buttons and there’s so much she wants to say ; how the one has to deserve to be called a mom . ask if she should feel privilaged that the woman who birthed her worries about her once a month when she’s home and it’s been like this for the past twenty three years . she also wants to laugh . but instead , she empties her shot , an immediate request to keep the refills coming . “ i don’t know . maybe for the next twenty three years i will . it doesn’t look like it’s hard . ” a bitterness , but at the same time a slight peak at her vulnerability . perhaps if one would look closely , a noticeable hurt their mother’s absence in her life caused her .
“ i know that it isn’t easy for you . ” another concession , another kindness . daniel wonders if they will leave this bar with egos and hearts unscathed , for once . “ i know , zoya . you think i don’t see how she treats you ? she isn’t a perfect mother . maybe she isn’t even a good one . ” a wince passes his features at the betrayal of the admission , the articulation of a thought that has been hidden beneath the surface of his consciousness for an indeterminate amount of time . “ ⸻ but it’s hard for her , too . you know that their marriage is complicated , that she’s unhappy . she can barely stand to be around that — our father . ” the alcohol has loosened his tongue , and he kicks himself for the slip-up . around that man , he had wanted to say , drawing a stark dividing line between his father and himself that zoya undoubtedly would have questioned . what he’s said instead isn’t much better , overly formal as it is , but it’s not the first time he’s used the phrase around zoya . it’s an inconspicuous habit he picked up sometime in the recent past , occasionally referring to their parent as our father instead of dad — always mentally attaching ‘ non-biological ’ to his own side of the equation . he’s not sure if she’s noticed . he’s not sure if she’s cared enough to . it is the need to distract her from his strange choice of words that has him speaking more rapidly , more candid than he’s been with her in a long time . “ but she’s trying . despite all of it , she faces him once a month because she wants to stay in our lives . doesn’t that count for anything ? i’m not saying you have to be best friends . i just wish you’d try , too . ” if not for her sake , for mine , he does not dare add .
lovebcmbs:
sometimes it felt as if her brother was a stranger , despite living under the same roof for years , despite seeing each other’s best and worsts . and she thinks about it a lot , always trying to find a good enough reason as to what drifted them apart. because when you think about it , a lot of the things standing between them could be overlooked ; no one in their right mind would ruin their relationship with someone due to overprotectiveness , yet it was one thing that pushed zoya away . affection , overprotection , vulnerability- others would do everything to get at least a taste of treatment zoya gets from her family , deep down she knows it . but perhaps after losing one person she loved , it’s easier to not let anyone in ; to force them to think she doesn’t deserve them . it’s a protective shield , closing herself of , because if she has to go through what she did after losing dom , she might not have enough strength to fight back . “ fuck you , daniel . ” her words sharp , as her body tense . and yet again , she fights to not get triggered , to not let him get to her. forcing a smile , she only gets to ask bartender for a vodka refill , giving up on her sweet drinks as she scratches the back of her neck , with a little extra force from her long nails ( something she started doing after dom’s death , for whatever reason it helps her calm down, relax her thoughts ) . “ it’s really sweet someone’s getting your blessing for once . how long until you’re going to decide i’m better off without him , too ? ”
the profanity doesn’t faze him . he doesn’t even flinch at it – not anymore . it doesn’t distract him from noticing zoya reaching for her neck , the sight of her long nails harshly scratching her skin making him cringe . he’s not sure when it started , but he’s only seen her do it a few times – when she’s in distress ; when he’s touched a nerve . and just like that , the guilt is overwhelming . he doesn’t know how they always end up here , how they manage to bring out the worst in each other . how his hands are always itching to reach out to comfort her , even if he’s the reason for her upset . it is for that reason that daniel chooses not to parry her question with another soon-to-be regret . instead , he lets the moment for a retort pass him by , staring hard at the glass in front of him before downing it – like the answer to their longstanding impasse will be found at the bottom of it . he turns around long enough to hand the rest of their group’s drinks to mark , only giving him the briefest of head shakes to indicate that he is not returning to their table with him . not that his coworker pays him any mind – his attention still fully on zoya , curiosity morphing into disappointment . daniel drops back into the seat next to zoya , a slouch in his posture that he would never let their father witness , but that betrays the exhaustion he feels – a trace of offered vulnerability he hopes his sister will recognize . after tapping the bar top twice to signal to the bartender that he needs a refill , he unceremoniously drops the topic they’ve both been avoiding like a bomb between them . “ mom’s really worried about you , you know that ? what are you planning to do , avoid her forever ? ”