Frustrated? Yes. You were on the brink of a panic attack just watching your laptop’s battery dwindle down, the almost-completed essay due in exactly eleven minutes doing nothing to aid in your stress level. It wasn’t enough that any words that would normally flow right out of you, admittedly a bunch of bullshit but words to get those three pages completed nonetheless, but the world just had to bless you with a laptop that absolutely, positively hated you.
Sadly, you were yet another broke college kid who could already feel their bank account hating them just at the thought of buying another, newer laptop.
Lucky for you, you had come to the coffee shop well prepared with your laptop bag that just so happened to hold your charger in it. However, on the other hand, there was something a little more unlucky about the charger — it had to be plugged into an outlet. And, from what you could tell just by a quick glance around the place, the only one in sight was currently being used.
Your eyes nervously stared at the guy occupying the seat right beside it, slouched down in a chair and using his thumb to lazily slide it up the screen, scrolling through tons of things that you were absolutely, positively sure were far less important than the essay that might just make or break your grade.
Then you realized how much you missed his kisses and how soft his lips were.You missed him. So much.
You pulled back to look him in his bloodshot eyes. When he did open his lids to reveals his blue orbs, yours burned and release clear liquid. You burst into sobs and willingly let Luke hold you close to him. You soon felt tears soaking your scalp and you looked up to see Luke’s eyes practically boring out of his skull from the incessant crying. You rubbed your face into his chest, which always made him feel better.
“I missed you.” Luke murmured into your hair. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” you whispered, secretly hoping he wouldn’t hear you. Judging by the stopping of the sniffles, he had.
“I cried myself to sleep every night while back on tour. I can’t live without you.”
You paused, “Luke, I think we should go back to sleep; it’s really early.” He nodded. You went to go grab a pillow and a blanket to give to him, but he caught your hand.
“I– I’m s-so sorry to ask you this, but could I sleep with you tonight? I would just really like to hold you and make myself feel better. I would also like to get some sleep before I go back.”
You knew you shouldn’t, but you wanted to, so you agreed because you still loved him. Deep down – deep, deep down – you missed his cuddles, his legs all over the place, and his arms suffocating you in your sleep. You missed waking up to the lanky boy every morning.
You two walked into your room. When you broke up with him, you took down his posters and put them in boxes in the corner of your room. Same with all the photos of you two. You went to your chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of Luke’s you refused to give back. You gave them to him and walked over to your bed.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Luke asked. You shook your head frantically, giving him a weird look. “Why don’t you? I mean, you’re beautiful, perfect, amazing, and you could do so much better than me.”
“Why would you ever think that?” you asked, shocked he would even ask that. You got off your bed and walked over to him taking his hands. He looked around, no doubt looking for a single memory on the wall or on a piece of furniture.
“You boxed all of our pictures, you put away all of my posters, you packed all of my shit– you’ve obviously moved on!”
You were taken aback by his outburst.
“What do you mean I’ve moved on? I sit on my laptop everyday looking at multiple interviews just to hear your voice. I have 5SOS on repeat when I play music. I cook your favorite foods. I watch your stupid sports. I stalk you on Twitter and Instagram. I sleep in your clothes. I watch all of our home-made videos. I take everything out of the boxes and cry, just to put them back in a few moments later when it gets too emotional– Now tell me, Luke; does that seem like I’ve moved on?” you frustratingly yelled. “For the past three months I’ve been moping around, not leaving home unless it was a necessity. Luke, you don’t understand the pain I went through–”
“And what the fuck do you mean by ‘you don’t understand?’ I understand full and well that this is my fault. I cheated on you, and you broke up with me. I cried myself to sleep every night; I still do! If I could take it all back, I would. I would do absolutely fucking anything if I could hold you in my arms one last night; if you could tell me you love me one last time; if I could have you forget all of it for one minute… I would…” he sucked in a breath and continued talking. “If I told you all the times I tried to get over you, but miserably failed, you wouldn’t believe the number. Every time I even looked at a girl, all I remember is that ‘this is what got me here.’ That I’m not with you, I should have been with you that night, but I wasn’t; I was with some girl who I kept procrastinating to delete her number out of my phone. I love you. I love you so much that I can’t live without you. Do you know how many times I looked at my razor, before, during, and after shaving, and contemplated on holding to my wrists? I snapped myself out of it because I had to keep convincing myself that I would one day get you back. That I would one day call you mine again. Do you know how painful it is knowing that you had broken the love of your life’s heart over some pathetic groupie? Do you how much it hurt for me?”
“You’re right, Luke. It’s very different because we obviously live different lives and the relationship was already hard eno-”
“I came here at 5:00 in the morning to say I’m–”
“Fucking shut up! You won’t let me finish a thought!” you screamed in frustration.
“That’s because I don’t want to hear the reasons you have to kick me out of your life. You are my whole World! What I have been doing for the past few months has been a blur. I’ve had Mikey and Calum fill in on the lyrics I’ve forgotten because I think I see you in the crowd.” he was exasperated.
You slowly walked up to him and put a hand on his damp cheek. He had just started to cry once more. “Lukey, I will always love you, and that will never change, I promise you that. But for now, could you just hold me?”
Luke smiled through the sniffles and grabbed your hand and laid down on his old side of the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you close, as if he were to let go, he would never see you again. He placed a small kiss on the back of your neck.
“I love you more than anything in the World, Y/N…” he droned.
“I love you more than that.”
“I doubt that…”
I woke up to an empty bed.
Y/N was gone and so was half of my soul. This was like an invitation to get out. That this was her saying that I don’t live here anymore. I sat up and pulled her pillow to my chest. I inhaled her scent and let out a shaky breath. I let a few tears fall down my face, knowing that this would be the last time she would ever let me in. That now she would put up the thick wall she put up for everyone for me. I would never be able to hear that she loves me again. She would never let me hold her again.
I took off my old clothes that I’m pretty sure she wanted to keep and folded them, putting them on the bed. I went into the closet and took one of her t-shirts. I looked for the box with the pictures of us and took the one of us on our first anniversary, I doubt she would miss it though. I found the box containing the rest of my clothes that I didn’t have with me and picked it up, walking to the door. When I was about to reach for the handle when I noticed a sticky-note on it:
Luke, I went to work. Help yourself to some food in the kitchen.
I smiled and shook my head, putting the note in my pocket and left. I walked my way back to the bus and went back to my bunk, ignoring the hectic questions my bandmates were asking me. I put the box of clothes in the drawer and pulled the shirt and picture to my chest, kissing the inanimate objects.
You came home from work at about 3:00. You noticed the note was gone. The kitchen was untouched. The apartment felt empty. You went to your room and put your stuff down, changing into Luke’s clothes that he left on the bed to comfort yourself. You realized you had to text Calum what time you wanted to meet, but you ended up clicking on an old conversation.
“I miss you”
You bit your lip, asking yourself if you should send the next message. “Fuck it,”
hey guys! we don’t know much about each other, so here’s a little introduction.
my name is rachel but i prefer to be called rach. i’m a girl who procrastinates often, watches too much criminal minds, and loves dogs. (relatable and basic, yeah?)
basically, i started writing a few years ago. my very first fic was an awful one direction fanfiction on wattpad, and i look back on it and still have secondhand embarrassment from my old self. cringey.
@aguaumenti is me, btw. if you get any notifications from them, it’s me! i also love harry potter if u can’t tell.
i’m having a lot of thoughts about representation in media and writing groups you don’t come from or are not yourself and i’m mostly thinking about the things i’ve learned from the late, great dwayne mcduffie, and his Milestone Comics, and him talking about “icons”
and i remember, he talked about, and wrote about, how if you have just one member of a group in your story, they become the sole representative, they become that “icon”. if you have one woman, one queer character, one black character, one trans character, just basically one non-cis-white-straight dude that, whether you expected it or not, they are the icon. they are the representative. and they will be analyzed and criticized to hell and back, they will be put under the microscope. they will have to mean everything to everyone, or mean nothing at all. and i think a lot of writers buckle under the pressure, or the fear of screwing up, and go with “nothing at all” - IE, “a supporting cast member who pretty much never gets to do anything at all” - or they go with no representation whatsoever. it’s too scary for them to handle.
like, i think my favorite example of this is sailor moon. usagi is a clumsy motherfucker, flat out. she’s goofy, she’d often rather chase boys or eat or take naps rather than fight crime, she can fall on her face whether as usagi or in the middle of battle as sailor moon… she’s clumsy, she’s goofy, she’s not what exactly a battle hardened warrior of steel when she starts out!
and she’s loved! she is loved to DEATH. she’s a fantastic, likable, empathetic character, she’s great for audiences to connect with. but i think about her, in relation to the rest of the sailor moon cast, and i think about how there is this vast group of women in the show, from the main cast to the supporting cast, and they all have their strengths and weaknesses, histories, relations, and their own firm, developed personalities.
now, imagine if we took usagi OUT of sailor moon. imagine if we dropped her in some other piece of media, where there are no other women of significance in the story, and usagi - or someone exactly like her - was the only real standout woman in the story.
would the reaction to her be as positive? i’m banking on “probably not”. a girl who procrastinates saving the day to hang out at the arcade or try to meet up with the dude she likes, who’s frequently tripping over herself, or being scared to death initially by the threats she faces? i can’t easily imagine fandom or critical reaction to her being be so kind.
and it’s like, just think on all the media where there’s only one woman, only one PoC, only one queer character, on and on, and think on how shitty or minor their appearances seem to be, or just as often, how little they get to do compared to everyone else, what kind of storylines they get locked into, if any at all
you don’t want just one, is the point. if you’re creating a character and going “this is THE ____ character” in your story, you’re already in for pain. not only have you drastically limited yourself, and your character’s interactions, but you’ve created a singular representative. are you sweating “how do i write ____ characters?” there’s a lot you can do, like, obviously, actually talking to and (this is important) listening to people from those groups, reading stories from those groups, on and on, just fucking digging in and reading and listening instead of speaking, but a very fucking important basic thing is not limiting yourself to making them “THE” character, “THE” representative. it’s pretty shitty for everyone involved, generally.
there will be no variety of representation, no diversity of personality or to these characters, if there is just that one singular character to represent an entire group, and that will suck out loud.
you have to get beyond the idea of the one character, the singular, the “THE”, so to speak. where you would make one character from a group, instead, start with making three. see where that takes you. this is not the end-all, be-all of writing from groups you aren’t a part of, but it is a fucking important and huge step, getting beyond the idea of the singular, the perfect “one”, and getting into writing multiples, many, with all sorts of thoughts and personalities and lives.