#sjs: threads

[nverletmego]

@mockiingjaysx​ // soleil x declan

Pretty girl sits alone on kitchen floor. 

When Soleil was getting ready at the cusp of sunset, pulling on her silky emerald dress, perfecting the curls of her brunette hair, and hand-picking the quintessential date night perfume, she’d had her hopes high. She’d been warned not to, by Declan and by coworkers, who saw her as far too naive for the types of people that hung around dating apps. But she’d been sun-faced and told them that this one was different, and that he actually cared about what Soleil had to say, sparing her from even mentioning anything remotely sexual. They’d told her it was too good to be true, but she tilted her head up in pride and said, We’ll find out. 

She must’ve looked so pathetic now. 

Now, her black suede block heels sat crooked beside her, her mascara was smeared, and her clothes reeked of alcohol rather than her strawberry-sweet smell. On the Uber ride home, she’d pulled herself together enough to not cry so goddamn hard in front of the driver, but that only meant she would cry waterfalls as soon as she got home, tears tenfold from bottling it up for so long. And it was true. She didn’t even know why the hell she bothered crying. Her phone dinged.

Kyle Livingston unmatched with you. 

And speak of the devil. Her Tinder match was less of a knight in shining armor and more of a douchebag in a too-expensive suit, playing so kind over texts but quickly souring in person. She thought back to the date now; it started so nicely, flirtatious references to their texts and brief conversations about each other’s likes and dislikes. But when the meal was done, he couldn’t wait a beat before he asked her: “So you wanna come back to my place and fuck now?” 

To which she responded with confusion and chuckled, rejecting him. He didn’t take so kindly to it, asking her if she was some kinda prude and her insisting that she wasn’t. But he’d somehow pulled the pieces of the puzzle together after almost a week of talking to her; he’d realized that she was some farmer’s daughter coming from a hick town, where either she was still a virgin or fucked her brother. 

It was clear then that Kyle had an objective in mind, and he was cold and calculated in fulfilling it. She wanted so desperately to fight back across the dinner table and tell him he was pathetic for playing this game for a week and leading her on, but she couldn’t. She shriveled up in embarrassment, denying the stereotype but not the idea that she was a virgin. Because it wouldn’t be the truth. Nothing she said could matter to him; alleging something as disgusting as he did shrunk her respect for him at an absolute zero, denounced him as a human being. 

And yet she still felt so goddamn sad about being so naive. So stupid. So... hopeless. So hopeful that Kyle was actually a decent person, a breath of fresh air when work had her feeling suffocated and Declan inadvertently made her feel unwanted from time to time. It felt good to be flirted with and to flirt back, but she should’ve known better than to rely on that momentary, fleeting pleasure. 

It’d been weeks since her and Declan had that moment at the jazz festival, and she didn’t know why, but nothing happened between them. No moves were made. And Soleil couldn’t help but think it was partly her fault, but she came to assume that they were just going to be friends from here on out. And she was getting sick and tired of being a virgin and having been in Nola for almost a year now without having met a decent guy. So she turned to stupid dating apps. 

Boy, did she regret it. It led her to crying so hard, almost bawling like a baby; and she wondered if this was all Kyle’s doing, or if he was the catalyst for so many feelings she’d bottled up over the last few weeks since Ford left. 

Well, she was thankful that Declan would be at work for the rest of the night at least, and perhaps even more. If there was any place he liked being and could easily sink hours into, it would be the tattoo parlor; and though she missed him on the extra-lonely nights, she couldn’t help but be relieved that he wouldn’t be around to rub her nose in it and tell her he told her so. She sniffled, wiping her nose with her forearm before taking a deep breath and getting on her knees, digging in the refrigerator. She’d pulled out a beer bottle, shoving the fridge closed before working to twist the cap open; the sharp metal stung her palm until she forced it open, a hiss revealing the smell of brewed alcohol. 

She wasn’t much of a drinker, only really drank the sax at the Jazz Festival to seem cool to Declan. But now, she didn’t care. She chugged the beer bottle, puckering up at the bitter taste, before exhaling sharply. It was liquid warmth down her throat. The next instant, she heard the front door opening right next to her, unable to react fast enough to hide or act normal. Declan, who popped in, would now see her at her worst state. “I thought you were at work,” she said, eyes flitting to the clock on the oven before looking back at him. A tear fell down her face and she quickly wiped it away, breathing somewhat heavily from being startled by his sudden appearance. “What happened?”

[nverletmego]

@mockiingjaysx​ // soleil x declan

It had been two days. 

And if you asked her, it had been two days too long. This fight had been unlike any other fight they’d had before, and each hour that passed without Declan coming through the apartment door buried her deeper and deeper in this graveyard of guilt. She couldn’t say much, though. She knew she’d dug it herself. She’d kept mostly silent on social media, but was hypersensitive to checking Declan’s for any sign of where he’d been; it wasn’t like him to not come home, and that only told her what had happened between them might have been irreparable. Half-hearted texts were sent to Ford and Amelia and gone was the radiant smile she often wore at work. Her boss even had to scold her a few times when she hadn’t noticed a customer trying to order right in front of her face. 

Soleil felt like she’d been mourning a friend.

She was supposed to be covering someone’s shift tonight; Heather called out sick, and she needed a distraction, even if she couldn’t put her all in work. But to her misfortune, her boss told her no and that she should just stay home and get some rest. She was restless, though.

Being somewhere different was all that mattered, since she couldn’t even spend a minute in her kitchen without feeling how empty it was without Declan’s mess. Everything was so clean, so quiet... so clinical. It felt disgustingly clean. The living room definitely needed to be avoided, too, given that she’d spent so much time with him there and now all of a sudden he was just gone. Only the skeleton of his presence lived here, his shoes strewn about the rack and his clothing and bed still in his room. 

With nothing else to do for the night, she wanted to just lay in bed and close her eyes until she fell asleep, even though it’d seemed impossible lately. She often found herself just looking up at the popcorn ceiling and trying not to cry. She’d hurt him so badly and she couldn’t even look for him to apologize to him. All Soleil could do was wait until he came through that door, if he ever did. 

Miraculously, she fell asleep. Gentle rain pattered against the balcony outside and she’d kept her window just barely open for the calming smell. But it wasn’t long before a loud hammering of thunder shook her bedroom and she gasped awake, jolting up in fear. She breathed heavily. Was it the angry fist of God, telling her she needed to repent for her sins? She’d made love to a man who no longer wanted her. She was sure the whole building would come down and she’d be lost in the rubble of it all. 

But then she remembered something. Or someone. 

Swiftly, she pulled herself out of bed, grabbing the first jacket she saw and throwing it over her torso. She slipped on a pair of sneakers and made her way out into the living room, where she grabbed her keys and a bottle of water. She slammed the door shut behind her as she left the apartment, heading downstairs and getting in her car.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself standing out in the pouring rain in front of a small, dilapidated white house. It was unbelievable on its own that she’d managed to find this place amidst the storm, especially considering she’d only been here twice before. Soleil was in front of Damien’s house. She’d dropped off and picked Declan up here a few times and Damien was the only person she could think of that might possibly know where the boy could be. The tattoo parlor would’ve been a decent lead, too, if she hadn’t been too ashamed to show her face. She took a deep breath, her arms crossed over her chest as she shivered underneath the rain. A moment later, she rang the doorbell. 

“Damien? -- You probably don’t remember me, but it’s Soleil. Declan’s roommate,” she said, nearly yelling to fight against the sound of rain hitting the ground. The storm was violent at this point. “You heard from him lately?”

[nverletmego]

@sporadiccollectionnerd​ // soleil x ??

Soleil sat on the curb outside of the New Orleans Police Department, having pushed herself out of there after getting sick of everybody in there staring at her. She was embarrassed to say the least, the Tinder date of the man who’d gotten into a fight with his wife at the restaurant they were at. Though she was assured by the officer who drove her to the station that no one was passing judgment on her, Soleil, who worried about what other people thought more than she’d like to admit, couldn’t help but feel complete and utter guilt and shame. She had absolutely no idea the guy she’d matched with and had been talking with for a few days had a wife and kids. 

Out in the city on her lonesome, the only person she could really call was her roommate. There was no way in hell-- even if it froze over-- that she’d call her older brother, unless she wanted Ford to have a bounty on her head. When the big city could so easily eat her right up for breakfast, her roommate was the only one she could trust, despite the looming feeling that she’d get judged by him, too. 

The whoosh of his tires against the puddles in front of the station was the only sound that pulled Soleil’s face out of her hands. She wasn’t crying, but she damn well could be, bottom lip permanently jutted out in a pout that wouldn’t quit. Sullen, she pulled herself off of the curb and got in his car, the pretty red dress she’d bought for the evening dirtied up from sitting outside. “I know what you’re gonna say,” she said, leaning her elbow against the door. “I told you so. So just say it, okay? I was an idiot.”