i’m a little iffy on the trope that pisces moons can’t deal with reality. i don’t think it’s really that they’re afraid of reality, or can’t stand to deal with it, but rather that they live so happily in la-la land that they just choose not to. pisces moons are the people that are gonna love books, love writing, love character rp, love driving out in the middle of nowhere and escaping the whole world for a day. it’s not because there’s anything in reality that they’re afraid of. it’s that reality can become boring to them. so much goes on in their thoughts, and i think that leaving earth for an hour and reading about or even becoming someone else is refreshing and just fun to them. a pisces moon alone is still in touch with reality, they just like to leave it sometimes. it’s people with multiple pisces placements that are harmed by this quality. they’re the type of people who truly lose themselves in their fantasies, to the point where they actually create their own versions of reality and honestly believe they are real. a pisces sun, or a pisces moon alone, knows where to draw the line. but someone with their sun, moon, and other placements in pisces, don’t even know what’s real and what’s not anymore. it’s actually scary to watch. they really make things up in their mind and it becomes their reality; even people with incredible intuition or lie-detecting qualities have no idea that they’re not being genuine, because in that pisces’s mind, they’re not even lying. they think they’re telling the truth. there’s really no reason for you to distrust a pisces sun or moon, but someone with multiple pisces placements you may want to be wary of. you actually never really know what version of the story you’re hearing from them.
Perché quando ti stanchi, ma ti stanchi davvero, non minacci più, non avvisi, non preghi, non speri, non corri, non insegui, non guardi, non ti interessi più, e ti fermi: chiuso, spento, buio, sipario, punto.
You’re amazing. I know this for a fact. You may not have been looking for this post, but here it is, making sure you know that you matter, at least to me. Days get tough, but you are amazing. You always have been and always will be. Have a nice day you wonderful, wonderful person.
‘Cause the world might do me in It’s alright 'cause I’m with friends Guess I’m giving up again It doesn’t matter (Ooh ooh ooh)
This is supposed to be kagakuro centric but i just couldn’t resist do this bc imagine seirin like this, like, imagine the lil shits dragging Kagami knowing damn well he hates this kind of places. Oh, and Kuroko is actually a ghost btw, one who wonders if the red haired boy will die of a fucking heart attack or not he’s cute tho
Ok so Kagami is an innocent idiot so i’m pretty sure the situation will end up in:
There are 365 days in a year
And you and I both know from many unfortunate personal experiences,
That not all of those days will be good.
For some, the majority of those days will be a breeze
For others, each day will be a trial.
The world is a difficult place.
The world is an interesting place.
I am here to give you a few reminders
To keep up with this trying world we live in.
1. Follow your own heart and dreams. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you what you can or can’t do.
2. If you want something enough, you will find a way to make it happen.
3. You will meet people who hate you, and you will meet people who love you, and you will meet people who you think love you. Don’t be fooled. Some people are just passing by in your story called life. They’re there to teach you something, so always be aware.
4. Always remember that bad things and situations you don’t like will end. It may take minutes, hours, days, or years, but never forget that they will end eventually. You can get through anything.
5. You are your own person, not anyone else’s. Don’t let people take control of you and change your beautiful self.
6. The people in your life who make you giggle and smile in the darkest of times are ones you need to keep with you forever. There is always the potential for hard times, and you’ll need someone to cheer you on.
7. You do not have to live up to any standards or expectations. Family and peers and society are constantly telling us that we have to be a certain way, or else we aren’t good enough. Tune out of that thinking and just be yourself. That’s the best thing you can be.
8. Don’t be afraid to step outside of your comfort zone. Being out of the box can bring on so many amazing new opportunities you never even thought existed.
9. A lot is going to happen to you during your lifetime, so let yourself feel anything and everything. Always feel as much as you can. It makes you experience things at a higher level and you can say, “Yes I know this feeling. I’ve been here before.”
10. A good cry cleanses the heart and mind and soul.
11. Appreciate the small things. They can teach you to love and be at peace with everything around you.
12. It’s okay to take a break from everyday duties once in a while.
13. Travel whenever possible, it opens the mind. Go on adventures in new places and learn about the world. You will come back a new person.
14. Get up the courage to talk to strangers. That’s how you meet people. Who knows, the next person you meet could end up being your new best friend.
15. Stand in the rain and breathe in the wide open air and absorb everything you can about the earth.
16. Long walks are something that can clear the mind and resolve many issues.
17. It’s okay to lay in bed with a book all day.
18. Look out the window and watch the snow silently fall. It’s one of the most peaceful and relaxing things you can do.
19. Remember that everyone is living their very own life with their own problems, so always be kind and respect others.
20. Keep and open mind and listen to people’s thoughts. You might discover more than you think.
21. You are not defined by your weight or skin color or career or the number of friends you have or your grades in school or your decisions. You are so much more than that.
22. Everyone makes mistakes in life, so don’t judge a person based on their decisions.
23. Keep your own limits and morals. Don’t give them up for anyone.
24. Live a little. Be spontaneous and experience all that you possibly can.
25. Aim to live a life that you will be proud of and content with when you’re 90 years old.
26. Things in life will tear you down, but time heals everything.
27. Rumors don’t help anyone. Don’t start or spread them.
28. Your soulmate is out there in the world searching for you too. Don’t lose hope. You’ll find each other one day.
29. Treat yourself once in a while.
30. Random acts of kindness can make someone’s day and it can make you feel good too.
31. You’re going to have to work if you want to live a truly happy life. Don’t cheat or make someone else do the work for you. That will only make an unfulfilled and empty life for you in the end.
32. Be proud of everything you do.
33. Self love never hurt anyone.
34. Find things to look forward to. It will keep you excited and more hopeful for the bright future.
35. Leave a piece of you in every place you go and with every person you meet.
36. Always listen to people. Everyone just wants to be heard and understood and feel like they matter to someone.
37. Do what is best for you in the long run, even if it hurts at first.
38. Love with all your heart and soul at every opportunity.
39. Never settle for less. You deserve the best and whatever makes you truly happy.
40. Don’t feel bad if someone doesn’t like you. It’s their loss because they won’t get to experience your magnificent presence.
41. Never fear love. Love can make you grow and blossom and teach you so much. Don’t fear it, but proceed with caution. Broken hearts will heal with time, but they are never fun.
42. Dancing silly to your favorite songs will guarantee some giggles and smiles.
43. Always sing in the shower, and when you’re home alone, sing as loud as you can.
44. Put effort into everything you do. It makes it all worthwhile and you feel better about it in the end. You can reflect and say “Look at this. I’m proud.”
45. Exercise makes you feel good and you’ll feel accomplished too. Try it sometime.
46. You are beautiful exactly how you are. Don’t deny yourself of your own loveliness.
47. You may not be perfect, because no one is, but you’re hella radiant, which is near perfection.
48. To grow as a person and expand your mind and soul, learn at least one new thing everyday.
49. Don’t beat yourself up about things you have no control over.
50. Happiness is not a goal or a point on a map. It is a state of being that everyone deserves.
Now my friend, I hope you can carry these things with you in your heart
Because every time you are down
You can always get back up.
Every time you are afraid
The fear won’t last forever.
This world and the people in it may knock you down
But you need to keep getting back up.
You have to.
Live, live, live.
Live your dream life. Make things happen.
It will be hard and it may seem hopeless and pointless sometimes,
But just remember that things really do get better.
The world is a difficult place.
The world is a beautiful place.
But only if you believe it to be.
‘Ah, shit, not again’ Ron looked from his friend to his girlfriend, a
desperate sigh escaping from his lips as he got up from the library table.
Harry looked unfazed, his eyes still fixed on the blond who was sitting alone
at a distant corner. 'We need to do something…’
'I know, I’ll just go grab my cloak…’
'No, Harry.’ Harry stopped, finally turning around to look at his
friends. Hermione had a strange expression on her face, a mixture of pity and
amusement. Ron, however, looked just like that time during second year when
they had to face Aragog. What caught Harry’s attention, though, was the way
Hermione had spoken, almost like she expected him to hex Malfoy right then and
there. 'This needs to stop, really. We know it’s been hard for you…’
Harry winced, he hated when she treated him like a child. And, for fuck’s
sake, he was sure Malfoy was up to something because he was sitting alone, scribbling something Harry was
sure wasn’t related to the potions book he had opened in front of him. And he
had that look on his face, like, like… he was up to something.
'Wait- what are you talking about?’
'Your obsession’ Ron whispered again, refusing to look Harry in the eye.
'I’m not obsessed!’ A bunch of students glowered at him and Madam Pince sent
the three of them a warning look from where she stood. Harry felt his cheeks
heat up immediately and he had to do his best not to turn around and see if
that had caught Malfoy’s attention.
Hermione was still staring at him like he was a lost puppy.
'Why would you think he’s up to something?’ she sounded like a
'Just look at him! He’s alone, for fuck’s sake, he’s never alone. And,
and he’s obviously not studying. I bet he’s scheming something from the way
he’s staring at that paper’ Harry turned his head slowly to catch a glimpse of
Malfoy and had to turn around quickly since the blond seemed to have noticed
them and decided to stare back.
Harry felt his cheeks heat up again for some reason. He saw from the
corner os his eyes the Slytherin walking through the door, throwing something
at the closest trash bin on his way out. That was it, that was Harry’s chance.
'Harry- wait, where’re you going?’ Hermione looked worried now, but she
and Ron didn’t hesitate to follow him. Harry walked straight to the bin and grabbed
the tiny ball of parchment before gesturing the other two to follow him.
They walked out of the library and turned an empty corner where Harry
started to open the ball, flattening the paper as best as he could.
Wait-what… holy shit.
'What is it- Harry… Are you blushing?’
Ron snatched the paper from Harry’s hands before Harry could react. He
stared down at the parchment to see a thousand different drawings moving,
amazing doodles that covered the whole page. Drawings of Harry.
'Well, I knew I was right’ Hermione’s voice startled them both. The girl
sighed and gave Harry a little smile before grabbing the paper from Ron’s hands
to take a closer look. Harry felt his cheeks heat up even more and a sudden
urge to snatch the piece back took hold of him. His hand stopped mid air when
Hermione spoke. 'He’s really good, isn’t he?’ She was still smiling.
'What? This- this is Malfoy we’re talking about! And- fuck,
Harry, I don’t even know what to say…’
Ron looked from the piece of parchement in Hermione’s hand to Harry’s
face, which was still beet red.
'Isn’t it obvious?’ Hermione sent Ron one of those looks, the ones they
were both so used to. She looked at Harry expectantly but Harry just stood
there, speechless. So Malfoy was drawing him, not scheming an evil plan, nor
sulking, nor writing all the names he’d put on his black list. He was doodling
nice, actually beautiful, drawings. Of Harry. Which meant the boy had
probably spent a hell lot of time looking at him, at his hair, his neck, his
shoulders. His eyes, his smile. Because he was smiling in one of them, actually
'It means he has a crush on Harry’ Hermione rolled her eyes like she
hadn’t just said the most absurd thing.
Ron coughed and burst out laughing before realising that the girl wasn’t
joking. He froze in place, turned his head slowly towards her, his mouth
'Can you hear yourself?’ he was whispering again, probably without
realising it. 'Malfoy is a boy. Harry’s enemy. He hates
Harry’ he spoke punctuating every word, his blue eyes blown wide.
'Oh, Ronald, are you blind? Are you going to tell me Harry’s
obsession is hate?’
'I don’t have an obsession!’ Harry tried to yell but his voice faltered.
None of them seemed to notice.
'I- I don’t know what it is! I wouldn’t say 'hate’ but… Oh, come on,
Hermione, are you saying you actually think-’
'Just think about it for a second! I’m sure if Harry knew how to draw
he’d probably be doing the same thing’
'I can draw- wait… what- I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON MALFOY!
'Holy. Shit’ Ron was staring at something above Harry’s head, his eyes
blown wide like he’d just understood some complex potions theory. 'That…
explains a lot’.
'NO IT DOESN’T! Harry snatched the paper from Hermione’s hand and
stuffed it deeply in his pocket. That was absurd, that was… ridiculous! So
maybe Malfoy wasn’t up to something, okay, he was wrong, but that- that didn’t
'Harry’ Hermione sighed, pulling him into a hug. He tried to stay angry
at her, thought about pushing her away but he couldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t
say anything to make him feel bad, even though he still couldn’t believe both
his friends would say something like that. Fuck, Malfoy? How
could he have a crush on Malfoy? He hated him, the slytherin was a
prick, an arrogant bastard…
He- he didn’t actually hate him. But he didn’t have a crush on
Hermione pulled away. 'So you don’t have a crush on him. Okay, well, now
that we know he’s not up to anything we can just drop it, right? I need to
finish my transfiguration essay and you both need to finish your potions essays
so we better go back in there’ She sent Ron a hard look before turning on her
heels and marching to the library. Ron tried to follow her but Harry grabbed
his arm, holding him in place.
'What the fuck?’ Harry whispered so Hermione wouldn’t hear him.
'Do you actually think I have a crush on- on Malfoy?’
Ron blushed and looked away. 'Mate, let’s just leave it, okay? We better
Harry strengthened his grip, bringing back Ron’s attention.
'I don’t have a crush on him. I don’t’
Ron nodded and gave him an unconvincing smile 'Whatever you say, Harry.
As long as you stop talking about him’.
Except Harry didn’t. Harry couldn’t.
The next day Ron sat across from Harry at breakfast just to find his
friend constantly searching the table at the opposite wall from them. Harry
wouldn’t say a thing, wouldn’t pay proper attention to their conversation.
Until he found what he was looking for and Ron had to watch as Harry’s cheeks were
painted in pink, darker by the second.
The next day Hermione observed as Harry did the same thing, smiling
widely - even though Ron had no idea why she’d do that - when Harry asked which
classes Gryffindor had with Slytherin since now they were eighth years and
their schedule had changed quite a lot.
And then they had herbology on thursday morning and Ron almost punched
Harry when Professor Sprout took points from them because Harry 'couldn’t keep
his eyes on his own table’.
Inside their dorms Harry would always have the map open in front of him,
while studying, while talking to his roomates, even while changing, for
Merlin’s sake. His finger would follow that small dot Ron never had to check to
know who it was.
The worst part was that Malfoy was basically doing the same bloody thing.
Instead of his typical sneer the slytherin would blush and turn his gaze
away everytime he caught Harry looking at him, which had been a lot. The rare
times Harry wasn’t looking, and Ron unfortunately was, Malfoy would scribble on
some random piece of parchment while casting glances at Harry. Some of them he
would fold and hide in the middle of his notes. The other ones he would throw
away just so Harry could fish them out of the trash bin. Harry thought Ron
didn’t know he was doing that and, being his loyal friend, the ginger preferred
to spare the other from the humiliation so he didn’t tell him he knew.
When monday rolled around Ron snapped.
'I can’t, that’s it, that’s enough’ Ron’s grip on his feather was so
strong it broke in half, startling Hermione who was focused on her own potion.
She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when her eyes turned to Harry and
consequently to Harry’s table where she could see small pieces of parchment
with tiny doodles glued to the margins of Harry’s notes. She let out a giggle
and Ron grunted, throwing his things inside his bag.
'Where are you going?’ Hermione stopped immediately when Ron pushed his
chair to get up. He stopped before doing so and bent forward so he was face to
face with the girl.
'Look at them, just look. They’re not even trying to hide anymore, they
just keep staring at each other like- like, you know what I mean. And Harry
just sighed, shit, if i see anymore
of this I’m gonna puke’
Harry, apparently, wasn’t even listening, his eyes fixed on Malfoy who
kept darting glances at him while scribbling fast. Harry knew he was drawing him
and that alone was sending shivers down his spine. The boy decided not to think
about that, not to think about anything actually because he knew that was
fucked up, he should be creeped out after all. But he wasn’t, he was… happy?
And maybe Malfoy would throw that one away and Harry would be able to keep
'He’s not even listening! Who are you and what did you do to our
friend?!’ Harry turned his head away from those grey eyes to face a red face
full of freckles in front of him. Ron seemed pissed, though Harry didn’t quite
know why since his friend’s potion seemed to have turned out okay from what
Harry could see.
'What happened?’ He
looked at Hermione, who was trying really hard to hold her giggles when her
face drained of color and her mouth dropped open. The next second long fingers
were digging in Harry’s shoulder, turning him around forcefully. And there was
Malfoy, right there staring at him with cold eyes. His mouth was a line, barely
visible, until he opened it to speak and Harry saw how red his lips were
contrasting with his pale skin.
‘Potter’ He yanked one of the pieces of parchment from Harry’s- shit
shit shit, they were everywhere, the doodles, the ones that were supposed to be
where Malfoy had put them, not on Harry’s things. Harry darted his eyes up, his
mouth opening and closing while he tried desperately to think of something to
use as an excuse but nothing came to his mind. ‘We need to talk. I’ll wait for
you outside’. They were dismissed the next minute and neither Ron nor Hermione
said a thing when Harry got up and left alone.
Fuck, fucking shit. He
was an idiot, what would Malfoy think now? That he was stalking him, which he
obviously wasn’t. It was just, the drawings… they were, er, nice. Right, he
could say that-
‘How many?’ Harry stopped
shortly where he was when he heard that voice from behind him. He turned around
to meet Malfoy leaning against a wall, next to the huge hallway windows. His
hair was like silk, each strand curling at the ends, completely different from
the gelled neat style Harry was used to seeing. His expression was hard, almost
hurt, and something weighed uncomfortably at the bottom of Harry’s stomach.
‘Five’ Harry heard his
voice though it didn’t sound like his own at all. ‘I’m sorry-‘
‘I couldn’t sleep’ Harry
closed his mouth, Draco turned his eyes away. ‘After the war ended, I couldn’t
sleep. I would stay awake for hours just… thinking. And the faces of-‘ The
boy gulped making Harry shiver. He knew, he knew exactly what Malfoy was
talking about because he saw the same faces every night. All of them now
populated his dreams with his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore.
Draco closed his eyes
before continuing. ‘So I needed to get them out. I like drawing, you see’ He
opened them and Harry felt his whole body warm with the instensity of the
other’s gaze. ‘But yours- your face wouldn’t leave me alone’
‘So you started drawing
me’ Harry took a step closer.
‘Yes. And it helped at
first. But I came back- we came back’ He looked at the ceiling, closed his eyes
again, inhaled. Harry took another step closer.
'You’re really good at
it. They’re so… realistic’ Another step. If Harry reached out he could touch
Malfoy looked at him,
grey piercing through green. 'You were everywhere’ His voice came out a whisper
but his eyes were screaming. 'The papers, those pictures. You- you looked exhausted’
Harry let a sad smile
form on his lips. He remembered the thousands of interviews, flashes of
cameras, people screaming his name. He remembered the trials and he remembered
Draco Malfoy’s face. Exhausted.
Draco was a victim of the
war just like him.
'I couldn’t sleep’ Harry
said, taking another step towards Draco, the last one.
'I wanted to reach you,
but everyone kept saying I was-’
Draco’s eyes were wide,
shining. Harry let his fingers play with his, intertwine, brush against each
other. 'I guess I’ve been all along’ The blond whispered, lacing his fingers
As classes ended, the
corridors became more crowded by the minute. Noise, whispers, gasps of shock
reached Harry’s ears but all he could think about was why he’d waited so long
to feel Malfoy’s lips moving against his own, how nice the Slytherin’s hands
felt placed on his waist. And knowing that he didn’t care about anyone’s opinion
was almost as good as knowing Draco didn’t either.
Joyce kept an eye on the clock as she wiped down the main counter. It was already ten minutes past closing time. The grime and filth of a busy Friday clung to her skin uncomfortably and she wanted nothing more than to get home, curl up with David, and take a nice, long bath.
Though luck was never with her as the quiet yet persistent voice of a downpour hummed through the building. All she had to protect her from the rain was an eight year old umbrella that turned inside out when the wind got too rough. David was also working overtime at the docks, meaning she was going to have to wait by the bus stop and pray it would get there on time. She hated working overtime, but they were barely meeting ends—if they didn’t pay soon, their power was going to get cut off.
The clink of the doorbell followed by the squishing noise of wet shoes let her know she had forgotten to lock up. “We’re closed,” she said, frowning at a particularly stubborn stain on the countertop.
“Sorry.” The voice was young, with an odd nasal inflection to it. That got her to look up.
It was a teenager, probably no older than her daughter, completely soaked from the rain. A sopping mop of curly blond hair hung just over his eyebrows, dripping down his cheeks and onto a worn sweatshirt. His nose and the tips of his ears were red and blotchy, and he was holding his lower lip between his teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. But what really got Joyce’s attention was the dark, swollen bruise over his right eye and the bloody corner of his upper lip.
He was turning away, gaze directed towards his shoes. The sight broke her heart. “Stop,” she said, and the boy did, sparing her a guarded glance. Joyce didn’t know who he was or what happened, if it was a abuse or a scrap, but he was just a kid. Marks like that didn’t belong on a teenager, no matter the circumstances. She couldn’t turn him away. “Would you like some coffee?” She asked. He nodded. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He chose a barstool, and sat hunched over the counter. His focus on a lone string poking out of his sleeve. His hands shook, she noticed. But she wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or something else.
“Cream and sugar?” Joyce called from the kitchen window, her hands busy pouring a cup. He nodded again.
It was a soft tanned color, more milk than caffeine, but what was important was that it was warm. She set the mug in front of him, watching as his trembling fingers closed around it. He took a sip and grimaced—a slight pinching of his nose, something most people wouldn’t notice—but otherwise didn’t complain.
“Here’s the menu, let me know if you want anything,” she told him.
He nodded, again. Not much of a talker. His eyes settled on an enhanced photograph of a stack of waffles. He licked his lips and pointed at it, not bothering to look at the rest of the items. “Waffles,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “The belgian waffles.”
It amused Joyce that he would order breakfast so late at night, but who was she to deny him. She gave him a smirk and took his order into the kitchen. The cooks had already left, leaving her to be the only employee in the building. Though not a chef, she was an adept cook and set out to make the kid some waffles.
When she was done, she topped them off with blueberries on top, and brought the steaming plate to the counter. She could see him practically drooling at the sight. “Whipped cream?” Joyce asked, brandishing the can.
“Yeah,” he said.
Rather than do a simple swirl on the top, as was customary, Joyce drew a smiley face. It ran the risk of the teenager frowning and saying something about how he was too old for smiley faces, like Chloe would, but to her surprise she found the boy smiling at it. It was subtle, a slight upturn of the lips that would probably crack painfully due to the lip, but it was a smile nonetheless.
The way he ate was, well, exactly how you’d expect a teenager to eat. It was messy, and loud, and Joyce suspected he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. That brought her attention back to the black eye and swollen lip, and she wondered if he really hadn’t.
Joyce grabbed a rag from her apron and began scrubbing the areas where his shaking had spilled drops of coffee onto the counter. “What’s your name?” She asked, casually, she hoped. It was like she had hit the pause button—he froze suddenly, fork hovering in the air in front of him.
She didn’t push. It was his right whether he wanted to tell her or not, and she wasn’t going to pry into his private life if he didn’t want her to. She kept wiping down the counter, gauging his reactions from the corner of her eye.
He set his fork down slowly. His gaze went from her, to the waffles, to back at her, like he was debating whether to tell her or not. Joyce waited patiently, keeping to herself in silence. In the end, he swallowed, rose his nose up and said, “Nathan Prescott.”
Oh. She knew he was watching for a reaction and she did her best to maintain a poker face. The Prescotts had the kind of reputation that would last generations. Engraved in the name itself. Animosity that was inherited by your parents, which were inherited by their parents, and so on so forth. Joyce would also admit to sharing that prejudice.
But he was just a teenager. A black eye and a bruised lip didn’t belong on a teenager.
“You can call me Joyce,” she answered with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Nathan.”
She could see the relief flood in his eyes. It hit her, then, that he wasn’t used to a warm reception after sharing his name. Talking to him was easy after that. Just smalltalk, nothing important. She talked about her daughter, about David, she even mentioned William for a brief moment, before she caught herself choking up and changed the subject to the busy day she’d had. Nathan wouldn’t say much more than one worded responses, but it kept his mind occupied as he finished his waffles, and Joyce could tell he appreciated it.
By the end of the night, his skin had gotten a healthy blush and his eyes looked brighter. The weather outside cleared up too; the downpour had lightened to a slight drizzle. Nathan’s calm expression quickly changed to one of horror when he felt around his pockets and realized they were empty. “I don’t have my wallet,” he told her. “But I’m good for it, I swear.”
Joyce suspected as much from any teenager caught in the rain in the middle of the night. “Don’t worry about it, hun. It’s on the house.”
“I’ll pay you back,” he insisted. Joyce didn’t argue, only told him to do as he wished.
As he left the diner she silently prayed that he would find a safe way home.
Saturdays were the worst. Joyce wasn’t against hard work, but she could feel the blisters forming in her feet and couldn’t find five minutes to sit down. But, she was used to it. The tips were good, at least.
They were up to their eyeballs in orders, and, to make matters worse, one of the coffee machines gave out, which meant Joyce had to walk to the other side of the kitchen to refill. She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at her watch every five minutes, watching the hand inch ever so slowly to her lunch hour.
She was bringing a customer his order for breakfast when he said, “Whose ass have you been kissing lately, Joyce?”
“What are you talking about?” She asked, already used to the coarse language the truckers and sailors would have.
Another customer whistled in appreciation and Joyce was about to tell him off, until she realized that he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking past her, at her tip jar. It was full to the brim with—oh my goodness—twenty dollar bills? Among all the bills was a crumpled up piece of notebook paper.
The truckers whistled and cheered as she worked to unscrew the cap. “Who’s yer secret admirer?” One asked.
She fished out the note and unraveled it. There were only two words written in a messy, jagged script. “Thank you.” She smiled and the truckers cooed.
“None of your damn business,” she answered, slapping one playfully in the arm.
She managed to pay the bills that month.
A/N Merry Christmas! I know this isn’t much or Christmas-themed or anything, but I wanted to write how Nathan and Joyce met in Exposure. I know this won’t make up for the lack of recent updates but I hope you enjoy it all the same! :*
~ Kill the rich kid ~ 20160308 Nathan Prescott LiS commission completed. Couldn’t resist my friend and this is the result. He didn’t want me to upload it here and we argued but in the end he gave up, hah! I’m such a stubborn person, lmao