Oct 28, 2023
the narratives…
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Taiwan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Philippines
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
the narratives…
did a few prompts on twit this eve (jdtz & jhnh)
jdtz - sweetener
“So you and Mac went out last night, huh?”
Jamie squints. Winter sunshine is streaming in through the restaurant windows, splashing over Trevor’s face, turning his eyelashes almost translucent.
It’s also barrelling directly through his skull and boring into his eye sockets. He can’t remember the last time he had a hangover this bad. If it were up to him, he’d still be in bed with the blankets over his head, but of course he forgot completely that he’d promised Trevor lunch after his girlfriend left town, and so now here he is—wincing at the thumping headache forming behind his eyes, while Trevor fidgets across the table.
“Yeah. We did.”
“That’s cool,” he says quickly. “You and Mac, eh? Yeah. No. That’s great. I’m glad you had a good time, dude.”
He watches as Trevor hooks a finger into the little round canister stuffed full with seasoning and condiment sachets in the middle of the table, dragging it towards him.
“Yeah it was fun,” he says simply, shrugging.
He’s not about to tell Trevor about being turned away at the door by the bouncer, or how pissed Mason got afterwards. Definitely not about the girl he fumbled, who turned on her heel and left once she realized he and Mason weren’t going to be able to get her and her friends into the bar. That, of course, only pissed Mason off further.
Trevor plucks out a pink sweetener sachet and flips it between his knuckles. “We went to this party,” he says. “Like real L.A. shit. Fancy as fuck.”
“Oh yeah?” Jamie tries to sound like he’s ready to listen. His headache throbs.
“Mmmmmh,” Trevor hums. He tears off the top of the packet and taps out the grains onto the table, swirling his pinky finger into the mess he’s made, before he divides it into one, two, three piles. “Kinda trippy. Like there’s money and there’s money, y’know?”
“For sure,” Jamie says. Except no, he doesn’t know. Trevor’s casual displays of wealth were a source of unwilling fascination for Jamie, right from the days they were making comparable pennies down with the Gulls. He can’t imagine what it takes to impress him. He doesn't want to imagine, either.
Trevor pokes around at his three piles a little longer, twisting in his fingernail, before he abruptly loses interest and sets his palms against the tabletop, leaning down to blow one of his neat piles clean away with a huff of his breath.
“Anyway,” he says, straightening up, voice considerably brighter. Jamie shakes the sweetener granules that have caught in his hoodie out silently. “Show me your camera roll, Jimmy. I know you’ve got some sweet pics of Mac in there. I’ve been looking for good blackmail material. Airdrop me, bro.”
-
jhnh - goofy
“Can I get you another?”
It’s late and the pre-christmas party Nico was hosting has emptied out. Luke, Alex and Nemo snuck away a while ago, thick as thieves, and Jack is trying this new thing where he doesn’t micro-manage his baby brother’s life, so he didn’t try to stop him. Now, he’s sat up on the barstool at Nico’s breakfast island, spinning his empty wine glass between his fingers, feeling oddly restless, and yet unable to move.
He looks up at Nico’s question. Nico’s stopped drying the counter down, and is holding up the last wine bottle in his hand. Jack blinks at him.
“Uh. Sure.”
Nico pours out a shallow glass and finishes it off with a flick so the wine doesn’t dribble, before setting the bottle back down on the side.
“This one’s on the house,” he says, with a small smile. “In exchange for what’s bothering you.”
Jack’s frowns with confusion. “What—?”
Nico pushes the wine glass nearer towards him, across the island. “Or I could say—what’s the phrase?—penny for your thoughts, yes?” He tosses the towel he was using over his shoulder and smiles again.
Jack’s mouth wobbles. “Are you, like—doing a bit, man?”
“Bartenders are very good listeners, I have heard,” Nico says solemnly. “You should tell me what’s wrong.”
That makes Jack laugh—a little huffed out breath he can’t control. “Oh my god, you are.”
When Nico just smiles and looks at him expectantly, Jack sighs and gives in. “Do you ever feel old? I don’t know, bud. Just—I feel like I’ve been here forever. I don’t know if it’s having Luke here, or what. Or, maybe just the rookies in general. But they’re kids, and I’m, like, so not these days, y’know? Don’t get me wrong, I would never go back to that first year, but it went by so fast. And now we’re, like, here, I guess.”
Nico smiles a little, visibly pausing before he replies. “If I remember correctly from the ID you showed me earlier, you’re only 22. That’s young, I think.”
His commitment to playing the part amuses Jack, unexpected as it is. He hums. “Right. In general, I know. But—okay, so how long have you been working as a bartender here?”
Nico tilts his head and hides his smile. “Seven years, four since they made me manager. It’s a lot, I agree. Sometimes, I feel old too.” And then, “But I love my job. I know more, every year. Familiarity is nice. It’s good, I think, to stay in one place, no? It means you can grow—look back at where you came from more easily. That’s not a bad thing.”
Jack tips his wineglass and swirls the liquid around while he turns that over.
“Are all bartenders this philosophical? Or just the really hot ones?”
That makes Nico laugh properly. “You’ll have to tell me.”
“Yeah, no, I think it’s just the really hot ones.”
Nico grins—a goofy, dimpled smile. “Thank you for the compliment. I hope the advice helped, though?”
Jack shrugs. “Kinda. It’s a me problem, I know. Now, can I ask you a question?”
Nico dips his head. “Of course.”
“What’s a guy got to do around here to get you to slip them your number on a paper napkin, eh?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Nico grins, eyes dancing. “That’s against the rules, actually—”
Jack pushes his wine glass aside and leans over the counter to whip the towel off Nico’s shoulder and get a hand in his shirt. “Neeks. That’s enough now.”
Nico bends to press a kiss to his cheek. “Wait. I’ve just remembered. I’m the manager. Bar’s closed. And I’ve decided I’m taking you home.”
Some work in progress Sunday because time isn’t real
I’m going to need someone to check my Swiss-German/French/whatever other language I shove in here for this fic but I’m having fun!
Cansei de ser lembrado só quando precisam de mim
E sempre vão te julgar pelo que você aparenta ser
As pessoas falam com você hoje e amanhã esquecem que você existe, já me acostumei com isso..
Faz algum sentido amar por um dia?