one track heart

[temprnce]

#𝑇𝐸𝑀𝑃𝑅𝑁𝐶𝐸, ──── may indicate a time to evaluate and re-examine the priorities you have chosen. a dependent blog for 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐪 written by kate (she/her)

⋆ 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑯 𝑨𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬, 🩰 int. isms. vis. pins.

[pityous]

he never knew what he wanted from leah. he moved like he did, sure; he asked her to attend events, he went out of his way to speak to her, he claimed they were friends despite all of her protests. but, there were these little things that always stumped him. expectations he didn't know he had until they floated to the surface, new sensitivities she could unlock with a roll of her eyes. a second ago, had he been asked, romy would probably say that he'd be honored to make leah laugh, whether that was with him or at him. he'd say that he preferred it to her indifference, to her coldness. if he was going to be a nuisance, he'd rather it be entertaining. so, he doesn't know why it lands differently this time. why the sound of her laugh makes him cast his eyes downward, tap his fingers nervously against the side of the beer can. he feels sort of like he shouldn't have opened up at all. everything had some sort of end. it was that finality that haunted him recently. he wasn't naive enough to not think of death. in his field, he thought about it every day. he wondered how best he could comfort a family, how he could undo all of his programming to be good and helpful. he wondered if, by the time he became a doctor, he'd know death intimately enough to not speak of it with such fear, and exhilaration, on his face. right now, he wondered if he'd have the right words for leah by the time he was a doctor. he can't tell her that he's thought about her injury at length, that he considers her timeline every time she crosses his mind, that some deluded part of him thinks she will be okay eventually. thinking otherwise would be like learning about supernovas all over again. he twists the can tab until the metal gives and it's separate from the can, presses his thumb against its smooth edge and watches the imprint it makes in his skin. anything not to look at her right now "i think that all came out wrong. i don't— like suffering. and i know sometimes people live with pain forever. i guess it just— used to be comforting to me that. i don't know, there's an end in sight? that we're mortal?" he sets the can down on the counter, still turning the tab over in his fingers, and exhales "that was morbid, though. i shouldn't have said that. i'm really sorry." the last thing he needs right now is for anyone to think he'd be following in amelia's footsteps. it wasn't like that, he'd just been thinking too much "and i'm sorry that you're in pain. you don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to." big words from the person who was most eager to hear every last detail of her injury and healing process, but he had to remember who he wanted to be, not who he was.

[temprnce]

leah’s gaze lifts as romy replies. her dark eyes scan his features, watching as his eyes drop and his fingers tap against his beer can. it’s strange, he almost looks sheepish. for a brief moment, it makes her feel guilty herself; this is why she should’ve just left after handing over the food, because making others feel better is hardly her forte. his fingers twist at the beer tab, and she can imagine the press of it against his skin so well can practically feel it herself. she knows the mark it leaves behind. she looks away. “why are you sorry?” she asks the cabinets. “i asked.” sure, she technically asked weeks ago, but she still asked. “and i knew what you meant, i didn’t think you liked suffering.” leah hadn’t been offended by romy saying that he enjoys fixing people, just jealous that she couldn’t be one of them. she hadn’t meant to scold him;  the only reason she said what she did was because she thought he might understand what she meant — that she’s been struggling.  truthfully, leah’s few words gesturing at the frequency of her pain and implying the long lasting effect are the most she has talked about her injury. she typically tends to sidestep it in conversation, a short answer that she hurt her back so she can’t dance, concern brushed off with practiced cool indifference, and promptly changing the subject to suggest the conversation’s over. even with her doctor and physical therapist, they speak strictly in technical terms, of where and how bad her pain is, and methods to ease it.  she hasn’t told anyone how frustrating it is to feel an ache creep in in the middle of the day, or how humiliating it is loose her independence so completely that she’s had to ask her parents for help getting off the couch on more than one occasion. she certainly hasn’t told anyone that most days she feels like her life is already over, now that she has nothing left to live for. and what good would saying any of that even do? clearly, romy wouldn’t understand it, so it would just be admitting to her inadequacy for no reason.  taking another sip of lemonade, leah steels herself against the self-pity creeping in, and looks at romy again. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

[amstrength]

for someone who barely spent any of his life alone, benji was pretty good at being alone. he hadn't even spent time in the womb alone. but now, it was a dear friend. isolation. he didn't know how to be around his peers normally. at least, now that he had returned to work, putting on a fake front around the greater wrensted was practiced. nothing really changed there. it was just around his peers. they knew part of his mask had slipped. it was just better he didn't see any of them. it was better he didn't reach out. didn't talk to anyone. he had forgotten he and leah had established a new routine. she would come over, and he would cook for her. show her his space. make something for her. it had totally slipped his mind. maybe it was his new practice of getting stoned any time he wasn't going in for his internship that muddled his mind. maybe it was that he assumed leah wouldn't want to keep things going. but when the knock on his door rings through his small studio, the lacrosse ball he had been tossing up to himself almost lands on his face. he has to drag himself off his bed, before carefully opening the door. it takes him a moment of studying the woman in front of him to realize- she hadn't forgotten their plans. he blinks a few more times before speaking finally, "hey, shit- sorry i meant to clean before you got here," but nevertheless, he stands out of the way, allowing her inside, "sorry, i didn't plan anything. i can still throw something together, are you craving anything?"

[temprnce]

from the second benji opens the door, it’s obvious that leah’s not welcome. it’s nothing that benji says, but everything else gives him away. while leah has never requested formal attire for their meals, benji typically puts on real clothes, as opposed to the old shorts and sweatshirt he’s wearing. but it’s not just his outfit; his curls are messy and stretched out, and his eyes look tired. still, in what leah is quickly realizing is typical benji behavior, he covers that up with a lie (or at least sounds like a lie to leah’s ears) and invites her inside. things between them were different when all of their lies were by omission. for leah and benji, there were simply subjects that they didn’t touch, through unspoken agreement. while leah had been happy not to ask about his family back in school or how he pays his rent now, she’s less willing to ignore him blatantly lying to her face. she’s not interested in going where she’s not wanted, and would much rather him just say he’s not up for it than grin and bear it in the name of being polite. that’s embarrassing for both of them. “you know you can just say you forgot, right?” she asks. “there’s been enough going on that i get how it would slip your mind.” despite stepping forward, leah doesn’t actually enter benji’s apartment, instead she stops directly in the doorway. neither in nor out, she’s giving him another chance to express what he really wants. “and if you want to be alone, you can say that too.”

[dcviilish]

it was a shitty olive branch, tristan knew that, but there was been the clearly false hope that she would just be ignored. “what an achievement. you should be so proud.” it usually rolled off her back. tristan notoriously never took things seriously.

as far as their usual interactions went, leah was playing the part perfectly. it was tristan that wasn’t normal. blame the bender, blame the anger. the desertion. if you could even call it that. “i’m sure stacy martin could afford lipgloss but that didn’t stop her from cashing in on the five finger discount all sophomore year.”

and yet, in the weird reality of it all, tristan should’ve been grateful for leah. her defences shot up, she lashed out — but god it was better than the alternative. something soft, laced with pity. maybe it clawed at insecurity. it cradled abandonment issues. leah hated her. they were both aware of that. it was perhaps the most stable thing in tristan’s life. a revelation both surprising and yet typical. of course she would be.

there was nothing tristan could do to sabotage it. blow it up. push her away then pull her in. not like everyone else. did she have leah in any sense of the word? no. but what better way to ensure you never lost someone?

“i have legs.” and it’s not like kiri would be waiting up for her. there was no rush for tristan to be anywhere. she could take as long as it took to stumble home, considering wrensted was nowhere near massive. “don’t worry, i’m not a fucking idiot. you don’t have to wrestle keys off me.”

tristan was reckless, impulsive, destructive — but only to herself.

“congratulations, you’ve done your part to give a shit about the innocent souls of wrensted.” the overdramatic bow causing a slight stumble that one could almost argue was karma. “i’ll see ya later, leah. enjoy paying full price to prove a point.”

[temprnce]

something in tristan’s tone sets leah on edge. typically, she laces a humor through all their interaction, poking and prodding at leah in a way that’s playful, if grating. like an obnoxious, small dog, leah has always seen tristan as all bark and no bite, but there’s genuine anger behind tristan’s words tonight. not that she’s scared of her, but it does set them up for a different interaction than she's used to. she doesn’t even dignify the stacy martin comment with a response; tris is way beyond help if she thinks stacy and leah have anything in common. as tristan speaks, leah’s quickly coming to the conclusion that she knew amelia better than leah thought. there’s a haunted kind of look on tristan’s face that she’s never seen before, and she’s quick to attribute it to grief. not that that makes leah see her behavior in any kinder of a light. drinking herself into oblivion is pathetic, self-indulgent, and entirely useless to everyone. while it may help her forget in the short-term, there’s no amount of alcohol that will change the fact that amelia’s dead, and the hangover will likely only make remembering in the morning hurt more. leah has no patience for it. “tristan, if you don’t want me to think you’re a fucking idiot, stop acting like one.” maybe she’s not driving, but stumbling around at night, dressed in dark clothes really isn’t that much better — it’s like she wants to get hit. as if this down would know what to do with two dead girls. for a second, the cruelest part of leah wonders if that isn’t what this is: an attempt to get herself killed in a desperate ploy for attention. given everything else tristan has ever done, she wouldn’t put it past her.  she pushes the thought aside, a fresh wave of annoyance rising in her chest as tristan stumbles. “you know you’re embarrassing yourself, right?” it’s spoken matter-of-factly as leah can only imagine a few public showings that would be worse that this. “if this is about amelia, pull yourself together and stop making someone’s suicide about you.”

[pityous]

"i can deliver it for you?" please say no. it was the last place anyone wanted to be, but he figured it was better him than anyone else thrown to the wolves. he wasn't sure where he stood with the castros after the events of the birthday party, and rhys was only barely talking to him since then; silence only being broken by the fact that amelia was gone. he couldn't ask his father what her grieving parents thought of him, after he'd embarrassed his family and disrespected their wishes in their house. for some reason, he still wants to believe they'd receive him slightly better than anyone else. that whatever it was would be worth it to be able to help someone right now. as if leah would see it that way and not an opportunity for him to kiss up to the castros again. he's only momentarily taken aback by her request before his shoulders shake in what could be perceived as laughter, if the slight crinkling of his eyes is any indication "sure. coming right up." as if his parents kept beer in the house. he pushes off of the refrigerator, pointing to leah to stay right there before opening the sliding glass door and exiting the house to the yard, only stopping momentarily on his way to the poolhouse to retrieve a bag from a shed and feed the fish in the pond. a task rhys constantly forgot to do, despite being the one to insist that they should have a goddamn koi pond in their backyard. when he returns moments later, it's with two tall cans of modelo, glistening with condensation. romy doesn't say anything to signal his presence, instead breezing by leah to retrieve some of his mother's good glasses from a cabinet. setting them on the counter, he fills one with beer. the other with lemonade from his parents' refrigerator. romy returns to his spot like he hadn't moved at all, cracking open the other beer can and drinking from it. "i was thinking about something you asked me back at the party. if i love medicine?" he'd enthusiastically said yes. there had been no other answer. but, it was also the acceptable answer. that he liked helping people, that it was what he was meant to do "i wasn't fully honest, i don't think. i love injury. a dislocation, a clean break of the bone. i like that it looks gross. i think it's pretty. i like that the pain's not permanent, that i could have a way to fix it. and healing has a timeline. everything does." he tilts his head back to drink his beer, eyes on the ceiling. he wonders why he's telling her this "but all of that's starting to scare me now. timeline thing isn't so fun." maybe it was because she didn't care.

[temprnce]

“no, it’s fine.” she answers immediately. even if she doesn’t think she has anything to apologize for — she doesn’t regret going to the party with benji, and she’s positive he didn’t bring the shirt — and she hardly wants to throw herself into the castros’ drama when they’re likely in a terrible state, there’s a part of her that’s sure it will get back to her parents if she doesn’t deliver it herself. besides, leah’s a big girl. she doesn’t need to run away from things that are difficult, and she certainly doesn’t need romy to swoop in and save her.  her chin lifts slightly at romy’s reaction to her request, but she fights the self-satisfied smile until he’s out the door. there’s a part of her, that she’s willing to dismiss as hereditary, that is tempted to poke around in their kitchen for something revealing. she quells the feeling, obediently staying put and distracting herself by watching romy through the window over the sink. her brow furrows as he ducks into the shed, and his return doesn’t clear any confusion; he’s carrying a bag not a beer. she presses up on her toes, eyes following him as he…. feeds the fish? immediately, she drops her heels again, jerking her gaze away from the window. it’s weird to see romy in that light. while logically, she knows he has to be responsible to get through med school, she wouldn’t have expected to see him take care of things on top of that. she doesn’t look towards the window again until she hears the glass door slide open.  leah opens her mouth to tell him she was just kidding about the beer, but the can is cracked open before she can get the words out. she’s still making peace with having to finish a beer in the middle of the afternoon when two glasses clink against the island. she assumes the lemonade is for romy, but then he opens his own beer. she opts for the lemonade.  she’s taking a sip when he speaks. setting the glass down, she nods at him to continue, curious about where he’s going with this. she’s certainly not expecting him to say he loves injury. her gaze drops, focusing on the beer despite the way her hands stick to the glass of lemonade, fingers tracing lines in the condensation. her gut churns as he continues, pointing out how gross injuries are and how he likes that pain isn’t permanent. she lets out a huff of harsh laughter at that, desperately wishing the world he lived in was her reality. but leah’s irreparably broken; there’s nothing he, nor anyone else, could do to change that now. she’s left to live forever with the pain of her injury, the grief of her loss. “that hasn’t been my experience,” she says softly. “my timeline’s indefinite.”

[dcviilish]

@temprnce , outside of lone pine gas station. three days post-amelia .

everything sucked. in usual tristan fashion, there was an air of dramatics to it. however, this had become a town wide phenomenon. at least, a good chunk of the town. if not because of amelia — because of the tragedy.

wrensted didn’t feel like a place with many blessings to count. if tristan had to pick one, however, it would be the leniency of fender. a bigger city ( or a worker with someone to report to rather than the owner ) likely would have refused service at the stumble of tristan’s step. the knowledge of that made the pity in her eyes almost tolerable. it was far from the ideal, but tristan was still getting what she wanted. even if it came with the sad eyes of ‘you knew her, didn’t you?’

luckily for them both, fender didn’t ask.

it’s almost a clean getaway, until tristan stepped out into the cold night air — only to come fact to face with leah. there were plenty of people tristan was avoiding as an act of mercy towards them — liza, romy, juni. the people that had more of a right to the pain tristan was trying so hard to numb. leah was perhaps her most selfish addition to that list.

embarrassing wasn’t the word, but some kind of insecurity that simmered under her skin. it would come as a surprise to no one that leah was handling things better. not to mention that if tristan were more like leah, knowing amelia wouldn’t have been a secret worth literally taking to the grave.

“fender’s in a good mood.” in lieu of any greeting — any forced small talk of how are you holding up? as if they would ever be the type. “bet you could bat your eyelashes into a discount or something.”

[temprnce]

leah has never experienced death like this. it’s been three days and the spectacle of it has only grown, sucking everyone in wrensted into its cloud of misery. people really seem to give a shit that someone young is now dead. it’s ironic, leah can’t help but think, that amelia’s death has more of an impact on the town than her life ever would have.  having left romy’s and proceeding to escape from the catros’ circus of a home, leah headed to water’s edge. the bluffs were blissfully empty, and the alone time was precious. she was there for a couple hours, letting the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks below wash away any thoughts of amelia. on the way home, the gas light in her father’s camry turned on, leading to an unexpected detour to lone pine. the gas station is empty enough that she can hear the chime of the bell above the shop door; her eyes lift at the sound, and they’re met with the sight of tristan. the pump clicks off a second later. she’s replacing the cap when she replies, “i can afford a tank of gas.” or rather, her father can afford a tank of gas, considering leah’s getting gas on his behalf. and unemployed. “but thanks.”  she folds her arms over her chest, carefully assessing tristan in the fluorescent light of the gas station. she looks terrible; hardly able to stay upright. her jaw tightens as her eyes flick dismissively away from tristan. it’s mostly contempt that leah feels for tristan. it’s all so incredibly indulgent in her eyes. she doubts it’s truly grief that has tristan swigging from a bottle of grocery store whiskey (though, admittedly leah kept tabs on neither amelia nor tristan, so maybe they’ve bonded), but even if it was, this is hardly the way to deal with it.  with a mostly blank expression, leah turns back to tristan. “how are you getting home?” the tone with which she asks is revealing: sympathy is entirely absent.

[temprnce]

ft: benji reyes, @amstrength location: benji's apartment

truthfully, it’s not unusual for leah to go days without hearing anything from benji. she's hardly the type to be constantly texting updates to her friends throughout the day, and besides, leah and benji aren’t even friends. so if pressed, she would say no, her showing up at his place has nothing to do with he being concerned about him, they just have established plans. of course she could’ve texted him to make sure they were still on despite the death of his close friend, or even just to ensure he even remembers their plans. she didn’t, as that would’ve required acknowledging his recent tragic experience, and she’s not entirely sure where they stand on discussing things like that.  so instead, leah shows up at his door on their previously agreed on date, at their previously agreed on time, with a blueberry cobbler in hand, tote bag with vanilla ice cream hanging off her arm. she’s nearly accepted that benji isn’t going to answer — maybe he’s not home or just isn’t in the mood for company — when the door swings open. “hi.”

[pityous]

he's curiously waiting for whatever leah's version of sympathy is going to be. she's graceful enough that he's sure she'll manage something, but part of him is hoping for honesty. a full admittance that, yeah, she couldn't stand him most of the time. that he was overbearing, annoying, and too nosy for his own good. maybe he'd always hold onto the past. what you already know to be true couldn't surprise you. couldn't hurt you. romy leans against the fridge, body language copying hers as his arms come to fold over his chest, robe sleeves bunching where they meet. romy's eyes, turned downward, light up just barely as she speaks. he thinks about not long ago, when he was sure they were closer than ever to getting one another. to being friends. when he thought back on it, it was a lot simpler than his feelings made it seem at the time. he had followed her in, disrupted her moment alone. and what's worse, it was his parents that had made her hide in the first place. it was frustrating. he was frustrating. he was delusional. but he continues to be, because frustrating didn't mean the worst. and she hadn't confirmed his words. so maybe there's hope. of what, he isn't sure. he's not dealing in hope much nowadays. "right." once he's traced every line between each tile in his eyeline, he feels prepared to look at leah, almost relieved to find her eyes not on him. in the back of his mind he almost remembers to be insecure about the unsightly thing in front of her in worn crumpled pajamas. apathy wins out, pretty girl in his house or not, and that thought is pushed back where it came "well, i'm glad you're here. so. tell your parents i said thank you." there wasn't any other reason to be grateful for them liking him, as he had learned at the birthday party. "you can tell me if i'm keeping you, but i'm supposed to be a good host and shit when people... do you want something to drink?"

[temprnce]

i’m glad you’re here. leah almost laughs at that, immediately assuming that he’s only saying that out of some sort of polite obligation. she knows she’s not the person anyone would want around in a moment of…. emotional difficulty. a few years ago, when maris and demi went through the first of three brief breakups, she had called leah sobbing.  later that day, sat on mari’s couch and surrounded by takeout sushi containers, leah pointed out that the breakup really wasn’t even that big of a deal; they weren’t living together, mari was young enough that it probably wasn’t going to end in marriage anyway, and at least now no one would be leaving a wet towel in a ball on her bathroom floor. mari had looked at leah, eyes still filled with tears, and told her she’s just about the worst person to go through a breakup with; too practical by half and having never experienced a heartbreak of her own. it might’ve stung had fondness not seeped into her every word.  besides, it was as true then as it is now. she’s more of the crisis type; someone that can remain detached enough to act quickly and decisively, reliable enough not to crumble when things get intense. but in the fallout of the crisis? surely romy would much rather have someone gentler around, someone that at least liked amelia. she can’t help but wonder what exactly it would take to get romy to drop the bullshit, if this isn’t enough. but admittedly, leah would rather be here, standing awkwardly in the paez-coopers’ kitchen than head to her next destination of the afternoon. “the only think you’re keeping me from is the castros’, which is the last fucking place i want to be right now.” considering how things ended the last time she was there, the castros would likely return the sentiment. leah had pointed that out to her parents, but they only said this would be a great opportunity to make amends.  mentally pushing aside that conversation and choosing to focus on the present, leah’s eyes lift to romy. this time, he’s looking at her. “sure,” she says, her tone straddling the line between serious and sarcastic, “i’ll take a beer.”

[pityous]

the smallest of smiles pulls at him as she confirms. it wasn't that he wanted to be doted on by the asantes— even now, he found it unbearable, but there was always a bit of pride in being right when it came to leah. normally, he may not be able to admit it, but he was just guessing half the time when he assumed anything about her. it was nice to have one thing still remain the same throughout all of this. he could depend on the fact that leah asante would never willingly visit him. he could put aside his hurt ego for a moment to feel comforted by it. by her steadfastness. "and that's.. bread?" he questions, taking the containers from her and nodding for her to follow him into the kitchen, where he takes far too long assessing the content of his parents' fridge, nose scrunched, before placing the soup- stew- stoup on a top shelf and turning back to leah. he bites back some stupid joke, a congratulations on her new delivery job. truthfully, he doesn't know why he isn't just showing her the way out, why he's lingering there, refusing to meet her eyes "are, um—" what the fuck was he saying? why wasn't he walking her to the door? "thank you." he spits out instead, suddenly finding a hangnail really interesting "i know you don't, i don't know, like me all that much so. yeah. appreciate it."

[temprnce]

“good eye,” leah drawls sardonically as she follows him further into his home. “the rectangular one wrapped in foil is banana bread. i don’t recommend eating it with stew.” her footsteps stop at one end of the large kitchen island, though her eyes keep moving, following romy as he rounds it to the fridge.  “yeah, well.” somehow, it feels wrong to be mean to romy now. however, the feeling doesn’t stem from pity due to his recent loss. instead, she’s stuck on the castros’ pantry. despite leah not being entirely honest with him, between discussing their parents, being forced to ask for help, and hearing how romy sees her, she feels as though something shifted between them that night. she certainly doesn’t consider them friends, but to agree with him feels like a betrayal of whatever tenuous truce they’d brokered in that moment. the one that led to him offering an airpod at the beach house cleanup. the one that likely led leah to his kitchen today. “you’re just frustrating,” she admits before quickly looking away from him, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes scan the glass containers on the marble counter. “and besides, my parents like you.” pursing her lips together, leah takes a moment to consider how much she wants to hide behind her parents. they’re worried about you, she could say, despite how you really should be over amelia by now. between your schedule and your grief, it’s probably easy to neglect taking care of yourself. feeling her face heat, she decides against any further admissions.

[pityous]

🫀 : leah asante @temprnce 📍 : the paez-cooper house 🕰️ : whatever day aura wants / kate & the asantes deem appropriate to stop by

romy is starting to think that pen doesn't actually have a package out for delivery at all, and that she just wanted to get him out of the pool house, when the doorbell finally rings. he's settled in at this point, made a decent indent on his parents' mostly unused couch, so it takes a decent amount of time for him to drag himself to the door "coming. stay right there." the words are mumbled near inaudibly in the voice of someone who definitely doesn't want the delivery man to stay right there as he ties a plush robe over his pajamas. he'll deny it later, sure, but romy actually flinches at the brightness outside, turning his face from the sun the moment he actually got a good look at who was at the door "your parents send you?" he quirks an eyebrow, holding the door open wider and stepping aside to allow leah in "...with soup?" it wasn't the fruit basket he'd been expecting before the realization came that no one would check in on him. why would they?

[temprnce]

leah tells herself she’ll stand at the paez-coopers’ door for exactly sixty seconds before she walks away, ignoring that she cheated by starting to count before even ringing the doorbell. she’s at fifty-four when she hears romy’s voice on the other side of the door. cursing under her breath, leah briefly considers leaving the food and making a run for it, but begrudgingly accepts there’s no way she could get away in time. so, she stays.  the door swings open, revealing romy. this time around, she has the decency not to tell him he looks like shit. “yeah,” she lies as she steps past him, lingering in the foyer. her parents had only been thinking of the castros, it was leah that portioned some of it into a separate tupperware and doubled both bread recipes. she justified it by telling herself she was just adding a stop to put off seeing alejandro and gabriela. “it’s more of a stew. beef and a lot of vegetables. nothing special.” the loaves balanced on top of the container shake slightly as she holds the makeshift care package out to him. “i’m just the delivery girl.”

[we1rdos]

“  how’d  y’know  i  enjoy  a  good  sittin’?  ”  and  the  backwards  walk  continues  —  an  opportunity  she’s  never  had  to  properly  study  the  other.  every  mark,  every  lash  along  the  top  of  her  eye;  she  sees  it  all  for  the  first  time,  hopes  it  won’t  be  the  last.  it’s  much  nicer  outside  the  house,  too  —  something  about  the  trees,  the  breeze,  the  company.  realer.  more  reachable,  perhaps.  besides,  all  those  bright  lights  mixed  with  rehearsed  laughter  were  starting  to  make  her  brain  go  fuzzy.  “  hey,  i’ve  got  a  query  for  you.  ” she  hops  onto  one  of  the  chairs,  perching  on  the  back  rail  like  a  bird  with  frizzy  feathers,  balancing  herself  with  the  valiant  aid  of  its  arms.  one  of  the  stolen cigarettes  finally  makes  a  triumphant  appearance,  floating  with  a  little  melody  clementine  hums  before  it’s  pinched  between  her  teeth.  short - lived  moment  of  glory. “  leah  …  be  straight  with  me, man.  ”  cheek’s  smushed  against  her  hand  as  she  swivels  her  head  in  temperance’s  direction,  preparing  herself  for  some serious mind - reading  (  not  )  by  making  blue  lids  all  scrunchy. “  do  i  scare  ya?  or  … how  come  we’ve  never  done  this  before?  y’know,  the  whole  you  say  this,  i  say  that  stuff.  maybe just wasn't the right ti – i ever betray you or somethin’? some folks sleepwalk, i sleepytray. ”

[temprnce]

leah trails behind clementine as they wander across the porch. perching on the edge of the open chair, she watches as clem gets settled and fishes out a cigarette. she looks away when clementine focuses her attention on her, eyes bouncing across the bushes in the front yard. “do you scare me?” leah repeats. it’s a ridiculous question, but she still takes a beat to consider it, ensuring that her answer is honest and not just a gut reaction. “no,” she says after a moment. “you don’t scare me.” truthfully, leah just never thought much about clementine before moving back home. with so much of leah's focus on her future, people in wrensted were supporting characters at best and faceless extras at worst. sure, it's impossible not to at least be aware of someone with clem's presence, but she wasn't involved in any of the extracurricular activities leah sunk all her free time into and they shared very few classes. the most leah thought about clem was to deem her too annoying to speak to. then, when clementine dropped out of school, she completely fell off of leah's radar. though, leah doesn't see how it would benefit either of them to tell clementine any of that. luckily, she had other reasons for avoiding anything that even approached friendship. “i didn’t have much time for this before,” she says finally. “i was too busy to just… hang out and talk.”

[loverzhq]

it's not like liza has never thought about leaving, of course she has. haven't they all? it's just that she could never leave her dad and tío behind and there was nowhere she deemed close enough that was worth moving to. so, she chose to view wrensted through her father's eyes instead of her own. for better or worse he loved their little town. he loved it for giving him his fresh start, for growing his career, for being the place he raised his daughter. her tío likes it well enough, but liza knows that, one day, he wants to retire back to buenos aires. she also knows that there's no chance he'll go without her father and that her father will never go without her and so... they're all left in a stalemate. not that they ever talk about it.

"why are you even here?" liza doesn't know if she means the party or wrensted, maybe both, "if you think we're all so beneath you, why waste your time?"

[temprnce]

there are a number of ways that leah could respond to eliza’s question. she could explain that she’s not quite ready to go out on her own again considering she’s still in need of some assistance as she recovers from her injury. or she could tell her that she needs money to move and it’s difficult to get that when she can’t get a job. she could even say that she only got out the first time because she saw a clear path to what she wanted and worked tirelessly to achieve her goals, but she doesn’t even know how to start over now that she’s lost everything. where would she even go? what would she do when she gets there? without ballet, she’s directionless. and maybe she’s just as pathetic as the rest of the town now that she exists entirely without purpose. but leah has no intention of telling eliza any of that. luckily, the question is vague enough to interpret how she pleases. “because i was asked to come,” she says, choosing to refer specifically to the party. “sure, i’d rather not be here, but i don’t consider following through on a commitment to be a waste of my time.”

[pityous]

the smallest swell of pride briefly overshadows the warm humiliation in his gut. sure, she was laughing at him, but he wasn't dense enough to ever think she'd laugh with him. there's still a sense of accomplishment. romy isn't sure what it is. on one hand, he hated being met with that unmoved, uncaring expression she usually gave him. on the other, hadn't he spent this entire time wanting to cheer her up? her unhappiness sat so much worse.

"people here don't do that." romy himself had a way of beating around the bush for many years. he valued honesty, but he valued appearances more. so, he'd find clever ways to share his truth. hide his true thoughts behind sarcasm and jokes no one laughed at. he wants to tell her he doesn't think she's an idiot for not getting a degree— that he thinks most degrees are useless, save for his own of course, that people make a pretty great living without going to college all the time. he wants to tell her he doesn't think she could ever be an idiot. that brilliance wasn't just measured one way. but he knows what she'd think. that he's doing exactly what they were accusing others of. no matter what, romy's sure he's never going to break out of the box leah placed him in and sealed tightly. he could try, but some things felt like a losing battle.

then, she asks anyway, and romy thinks this is a chance. for what, he's not exactly sure. to share a truth, to mend something that had always been broken? he doesn't think she's serious about the question, part of him's sure this is just another way to group him in with his parents. he answers honestly anyway "besides my friend?" he sets his own treat down on the floor, one tiny spoonful left, and thinks before continuing "you're... a talented person. an athlete. someone who knows what it's like to love something—" a pause "you'd think that'd be more common, right?" he found a lack of passion to be a real issue as he grew older. found himself growing more and more irrational and emotional in the face of total indifference. did no one love anymore; did no one dream anymore?

"i don't think you're a loser, i just think you're in the wrong place."

[temprnce]

“yes, besides your friend,” she rolls her eyes as his dessert clinks against the floor, “there’s no way you actually think —” he’s continuing before she can press him about their “friendship”, and the rest of his reply leaves her speechless. it’s not at all what she’s expecting him to say, but the fact that she’s anticipating a harsh response says more about leah than it does about romy. she’s expecting him to say she’s foolish for reaching for more, embarrassing for failing, or even pitiful for coming back instead of figuring it out on her own. romy has never given leah a reason to think he’d say any of that, what with him constantly reaching out in spite of her rejections and always acting like he thinks she’s someone worthy of respect. maybe she expects the privacy of the pantry to reveal his true feelings, or maybe she’s just hoping to validate her opinion of herself. he doesn’t give her that, instead speaking about her like she’s still the person she was before her injury.  she looks at him, confusion leaving her expression entirely unguarded. with her brow slightly furrowed, her eyes — soft with gratitude — scan his face, as if she is able to find his reasoning for saying that on his forehead. though, she’d settle for just understanding how he can so confidently assert that she’s talented. her gaze drops again as he continues, focusing on her spoon dragging along the top of the mousse. she wants to tell him it is common, just not in wrensted — further evidence that he’d be better off if he left. instead, she just silently chews on her bottom lip.  leah brings the spoon to her lips, turning it over in her mouth as she considers being in the wrong place. as much as she wants to agree, she doesn’t know if she even has a right place any more. it had been new york, of that much she’s certain. she had been so fulfilled there, surrounded by art, food, and fashion, while she spent her days doing what she loved. she had always been happiest when she was dancing, sometimes she felt like it was the only thing that kept her tethered to the world. and she’d lost it. now, it’s impossible to imagine ever fitting anywhere; how could she when she has to account for both who she is and the version of her that should still exist? moving on is unthinkable; her stolen potential is all she has left of the only person she’s ever wanted to be.  though she knows he’s horribly mistaken, there’s something achingly reassuring in the thought that romy could still see her the way she was.  she doesn’t dare say any of that. her gaze is still on the cup in her lap when she asks, “do you love medicine?”

[loverzhq]

"i mean, maybe," she shrugs, the tiny laugh that escapes her is warped and tinny to her own ears, but she's so totally fine! "i was exaggerating, but you never know with him. i thought he was going to burn a hole through me with his eyes for half the year." for a moment, she studies leah curiously. she's aware of the rumor mill, though she's taken the reason for leah's return with a grain of salt. even if she wasn't dancing anymore, liza thinks leah's smart enough to find some other way to support herself out of town. for someone who hated it here so much, liza can't help but wonder why she hasn't figured it out.

"well... i guess some of us are just pathetic enough to like it here."

[temprnce]

leah doesn’t like the feeling of eliza’s eyes on her, though she refuses to wilt under the attention. still, the way eliza’s comment lands might be informed by her discomfort.  it’s not particularly surprising that eliza’s happy in wrensted. it’s one of the reasons eliza and amelia’s relationship made so much sense to leah; they both fit in wrensted. every small town needs waitresses in their shitty diners, they also need someone to capture weddings and prom, and liza has never struck leah as someone with the eye to go beyond what she imagines to be run-of-the-mill stock photography. not that leah has ever sought out liza’s photography — her only experience with it being thanks to algorithm forced ‘people you may know’ on instagram —  to know that definitively. while she looks down on them for that reason, it simply wouldn’t be realistic to expect more from them. leah shrugs. “at least you know.”

[rgnarocgifs]

YANDEH SALLAH as Amie Samuelsson Condé Eagles 4.07

[amstrength]

he wished being inside the home didn't affect him as much as it did. but passing the threshold felt like bags of sand had been slung across his shoulders. it wasn't anything he wasn't used to, that heavy weight bore across his shoulders. he could carry it. his shoulders held back, his grasp on leah though, held firm. he hadn't thought of the gossip about coming in with leah asante. his peers would probably suggest they were sleeping together. after all, isn't that what benji reyes did. word got around in a town like this. the hit it and quit it type as described by the jocks who never quite grew out of the boyish talk. he worried how leah might feel about that. worried it might affect some part of her life that she wouldn't share. his lip caught between his teeth, gnawing at the soft flesh. it wasn't until his attention was directed at dominique callahan, hair clashing with her bad tan, that it registered to him- the real adults would have thoughts about them too. make assumptions. after all, she was technically here as his date. but benji was good with older women, he could dissuade any rumor she might think up. he hopes. it's with a harsh swallow, and a brush of his thumb along leah's finger interlocked with his, that benji is able to pull together his easy, facade of a smile. he directs it at the blonde as she approaches the duo, before whispering under his breath to leah, "you could gamble on this shit and win," it's more forgiving than he thought it would be. he's able to hold his own behind leah in the introduction to mrs. callahan. as leah expertly creates their exit plan. and benji follows behind, playing the best assist game he can. shaking the present right on que when it's time for them to slip away. maybe the night wouldn't blow up in his face if he just kept with leah. maybe she could be his good luck charm. but something is eating at him. worried about how leah would feel with the possible whisperings about what they might be getting up to. he stops them before they can make it to the gift table, and greet the castros. his brows knit together, as he looks down at her, "you know, people might-" he bites his lip before continuing, "people might talk. might say shit about you and me, and," he glances to their interlocked hands, "this," his gaze not rising to meet hers again, "people our age are probably gonna say we're sleeping together. i don't exactly, have the best reputation here," he grimaces. he hated the gossip of this town. the way it treated peoples' lives like they only existed for entertainment. like it was all just happening to pass their time. like these weren't real people, with real feelings. he hated that they took their assumptions as facts, and used them as fuel for their judgement. as if they all didn't have skeletons in their closets.

[temprnce]

the conversation with dominique is less painful than expected. maybe benji’s to thank for that. but before they get much further inside the house, benji gives her hand a tug. she lets him pull her into an alcove in the hallway. it’s immediately obvious that there’s something wrong. he’s not looking at her as he explains his concerns, but leah’s eyes are locked on him, brow slightly furrowed. the first time leah’s sex life entered the wrensted rumor mill was when she was fifteen. devin larsen, mediocre varsity running back and clear victim of early onset cte, followed her around the gym the entire night of the homecoming dance. all night, he tried to tug her on the dance floor, offering her swigs from his flask when she refused — like his strawberry lemonade svedka would win her over. leah thought she was rather clear that she wasn’t interested, but he must have thought he would win her over, because even at the end of the night he was still trying to hold her hand. fed up, leah told him to fuck off in no uncertain terms. instead of taking the rejection gracefully, he made up his own version of the night, and shared it with all his friends.  by fourth period the following monday, nearly the entire school had heard that he convinced her that she’d still be a virgin if they only did anal. it was absolutely ridiculous — leah wasn’t even saving herself for marriage, just for someone she could stand to be around. still, she was mortified when she first heard the rumor. it only took about two weeks for everyone to move on to a new scandal, and another week and a half before leah saw the silver lining; at least she had an excuse to not attend another dance the rest of high school.  so clearly, leah’s no stranger to this, and she knows benji is probably right. for a moment, she’s silent, considering what exactly these rumors could mean for her. but if gossip is going to pair her up with anyone, at least she actually likes benji. when it comes down to it, it’s really not a decision. “i don’t care if people talk.” after all, what’s the alternative? leah abandons him because she doesn’t want to be associated with him? the thought is ridiculous. she committed to sticking by benji’s side tonight, and she’s going to see that through.  “if someone’s dumb enough to think we’re fucking just because we’re here together, their opinions aren’t really my concern.” leah care more about the truth. being nothing but benji’s latest conquest might hurt if that’s what she was, but she’s not even his type. the idea of them sleeping together is laughable. “besides,” her gaze flick across his broad shoulders, warm eyes, and soft curls. dismissing any remaining concern with a wave of her hand, leah rolls her eyes as if that can hide the smile tugging at her lips. “i could a lot worse.” though, there could be another reason he’s asking, hiding his own interests behind concern for her reputation. her expression goes serious again. “is it a problem for you?”

[loverzhq]

liza feels actual second-hand embarrassment at jackson's poor attempt at flirting with leah. there's no part of her that thinks leah will go for it, but that doesn't stop her curious eyes from snapping to her anyway. eliza doesn't bother with being polite, choosing instead to turn her back on jackson completely as he backs off. she's wondering, once again, why she'd chosen to stay sober for this event.

“i was the best fifteen seconds of his life," she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. this would be much funnier if it was happening in any other context, "unless he's significantly improved in the past decade, you're not missing much. trust me."

[temprnce]

leah’s eyes flick to eliza as she cuts jackson out of the conversation. for a fraction of a second, she feels a pang of respect for her doing something to upset someone for once in her life. it passes when liza speaks. “you think the best fifteen seconds of his life was during sex a decade ago?” leah can’t decide if it’s worse that liza feels the need to point that out or that it’s not hard for leah to believe that she’s right about that being the highlight of jackson’s life. either way, her nose scrunches in disgust. “this town is so fucking pathetic.”