#19 - Come Back

(Sorry it's later than planned - took me a long time to work these words into a story)

Today's words: Distinguish, Methodise, Astrofel, Plan

Word count: 495

Summary: Sometimes it's hard to tell whether you miss the memories or the person.

Why had I dumped her?

It felt like I had thrown away a gem on a whim, only realising how much it was worth once it had already slipped from my hands.

I opened my Facebook tab:

Hey, do you want to hang out? It’s been a while, right? Friends should see each other now and again.

I felt dizzy and my vision became blurred. We were still friends, weren’t we? I remember saying that I sincerely wanted to be, but did saying it make it so? She didn’t quite feel like a friend, but she didn’t feel like an enemy either, so what was she to me?

[Typing]

Pause.

[Typing]

I made a fist and closed my eyes. Once they were closed, it felt like they were fixed shut with super glue. If she refused, I’d definitely cry; the tears were already lined up in preparation, determined looks on their watery faces.

I opened my left eye.

Sure, when were you thinking?

My right eye followed suit.

When are you free? I can do this weekend.

The tears hastily retreated.

~

As I waited in the pub that was...well, used to be our regular lunch spot, I began to methodise my thoughts. It was a very loose plan, but it would decide everything: if all went well, I would consider reviving our relationship, if not, I wouldn’t second-guess the break-up again.

My heart was aware of her presence before she entered my field of vision – I felt a little sick, hesitated to look away from the menu on the table, and couldn’t stop tapping my right heel against the floor.

She greeted me and sat down. Same wave, same smile, same voice.

After fifteen minutes of talking, however, something was not the same; the spark had been doused in cold water on the day we broke up. The memories had become hard to distinguish from the person, often morphing into the other and confusing the shit out of me.

That’s why I had dumped her.

I caught myself staring at nothing in particular, wishing that our relationship had a reset button, something I could rely on to take us back.

I kept making faces as if I were chewing on astrofel – twisting my mouth, wrinkling my nose, you know.

“So,” she said, finally, “why did you want to see me all of a sudden?”

“Go...” I started prematurely. Fuck. The words ‘go out with me’ had been rehearsed in my head as if I were possessed for six days. “Going to any festivals this year?” I struggled. “...I didn’t manage to get tickets for Reading for the first time in ages...and it’s been playing on my mind.” The poorly-constructed words were finished off with a self-conscious giggle.

I didn’t hear anything she said when she opened her mouth.

I divorced myself from the present in order to spend time with the girl that I knew, not the one who was in front of me.

#18 - Fly Away

Today’s words: Ligule, Pomatum, Hope, Self educated

Word count: 148

 She started cutting her hair at six

No matter how messy it turned out

She thought it always looked amazing



Cow licks were “quirky curls”

Too short became “cute”

Uneven was “ace-metrical”



As she got older, the urge to experiment intensified

Various ingredients for pomantum mixes were sellotaped above the oven

So her hair could retain its natural shine

Without chemical cocktails that caused split ends

(Her favourite is one that uses the ligule of a plant stem)



After dropping out of college, she became self educated

She wanted to be her own teacher, her own Miss

Now she knows a lot about geography

And she learnt Polish because she thought the language was interesting



One day, she hopes, she’ll collect enough courage to buy a one-way ticket

And get lost in a world where she can’t speak the language

Just so she can challenge herself

And start over

#17 - Storm

Today’s words: Help, Stormy, Spearhead, Remarkable

Word count: 1604

Summary: What would happen if Tamaki was scared of thunderstorms instead of Haruhi?

Ouran High School Host Club fanficton. When I thought of 'help' and 'stormy', I thought of how scared Haruhi is of them. Plus, I recently finished the Ouran live-action, so....

At first I was hesitant about Tamaki-senpai’s suggestion to stay at his family’s guest house with the others, but with the promise of professionally-made European cuisine and my own king-size bed for three days, it was hard to refuse.

The first day has gone quickly – we went swimming, played some table tennis, had a Host Club Mahjong tournament (Mori-senpai won almost immediately, taking all of us by surprise), then finished it off by relaxing in the outdoor bath. The female bath was only separated by a tall wooden fence, so Tamaki-senpai ended up talking/shouting to me as I tried to relax.

“Haruhi? Are you there, Haruhi? ……HA-ru-HIIIII-!”

“Yes, yes!” I cried, glaring at the fence as I lowered myself further into the steamed water until my chin was submerged. “What is it, Senpai? This is the only time I’ll have to relax before I go to bed, so make it quick.”

A loud gasp. “Remarkable… ‘What is it, father dear?’” he corrects, trying to imitate my voice. “I didn’t raise you to be so disrespectful. If only you could see how handsome I look right now. Mother!”

I hear Kyouya-senpai’s lazy voice: “Yes, very handsome.”

A full minute goes by before a scream pierces the fence like a spearhead.

“Ah, what is it??” Honey-senpai. “Tama-chan, are you okay?!”

“Oh! Yes…I just…I caught my reflection and I got a little startled.”

Not this again…

Unfortunately, he continues. “I forgot how good I look…naked.”

My butt loses its grip on the bottom of the bath, causing me to fall into the hot water. When I resurface, trying to cough up all of the water that I inhaled, I hear more conversation.

“You can’t see your reflection in a place like this,” Kaoru starts.

“The water’s too steamy,” Hikaru finishes.

“Ah-hm!” Tamaki-senpai exclaims. “That is correct but I’m not talking about the water. Behold!”

A pause.

“…You brought a hand-held mirror into the bath…” Kyouya-senpai.

“You see, Haruhi, this is the power of your father – always prepared. Bet you feel silly now, don’t you?” He shouts in a smug tone.

My hair’s now completely wet and my face refuses to settle on a bearable temperature. I know that I’ll faint if I stay in for much longer, so I get out.

“Don’t, you Haruhi?” he repeats after silence from my side. “Haruhi. Haruhi answer me. HARUHIIIIIII!!!”

I clench my fists and easily rival the volume of his voice: “You don’t need a mirror in a bath, you idiot!! Pervert!!”

Two sharp gasps are audible like he’s just been winded before a big splash of water silences him completely.

“Tamaki!” The twins scream in a panic.

Gurgling follows. 

My hair is still a little damp from the bath as I lay in bed, but it cools me down. I smile remembering the last words that I heard before I went inside...

“Don’t go towards the light, Tamaki!”

“Think like Nekozawa! Embrace the dark!!”

Is it normal to have a chandelier in a bedroom? I ponder as I squint at the small chandelier on the ceiling. Come to think of it, the rest of the room makes the chandelier fit right in – tall elegant curtains, two sofas by a fireplace, a golden statue in the corner…it’s the most sophisticated room I’ve been in aside from the rooms at school.

As I’m admiring the style of the room, a sharp roll of thunder interrupts my thoughts. I had completely forgotten that a stormy night was predicted at some point, so it makes me jump even more.

Sitting up, I look through the window across the room, surprised by how much rain is already falling; it’s like the mansion is being put through a car-wash. I haven’t seen a thunderstorm in what feels like years, so this really is something. My heart is beating double-time as I spot a flash of lightening in the distance.

Another crash of thunder prompts a loud banging from the room next to mine. I nearly jump out of my skin.

I get out of bed and slowly walk towards the wall where the noise came from. He passed it off as a coincidence earlier, but I know for a fact that he put my room next to his intentionally. “Senpai, that’s you banging, right?” I say a little louder. Ghosts don’t exist, I know that, but the chaos outside makes me think irrationally for a second.

The thunder strikes again and with it, the knocking get more persistent, almost violent. A cold sweat consumes me. Stop being silly, Haruhi, I say to myself, it’s definitely Senpai’s knock.

Once he tells me to come in after I knock gently on his door, Tamaki-senpai shoots up from his position by the wall, putting both hands on his hips. “Hello, Haruhi. …Glorious night, isn’t it?” His clown-like smile unnerves me, but I understand the meaning behind it.

I lean against the doorframe and fold my arms, raising an eyebrow at his performance. “You alright in here?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, yeah.” He turns on his heel and gathers his bed sheets, draping them around his shoulders and sticking his chest out. “A price needs a robe, right?”

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He responds too quickly. Holding the sheets around him with one hand, he points at me with the other shaky hand. “You…you snore too loud, Haruhi, cut it out!”

I lower my eyelids and close the door in case the others haven’t been woken by the thunder. “I’ve been awake this whole time.” He needs help, so I don’t want to leave him just yet.

He opens his mouth and hesitates, slowly drawing his arm back into the duvet.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better.” His voice is a little shaky too, and he wraps the sheets tighter around his shoulders.

“You sure?”

He laughs nervously. “Haruhi, I appreciate your concern, but I’m f--”

The thunder interrupts him and he drops the sheet in order to run towards me. I see the whole thing in slow motion; his eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them which causes a weird pang in my heart. He hugs me so that I can barely move my arms, shaking like he’s outside in the cold rain. “…Senpai.”

“It…” I hear in a small, strained whisper by my ear, “it’s just…loud.” These words are pronounced as though they had been waiting patiently to get out. “Don’t leave, okay? Promise me.”

I read the atmosphere and know that it would be a bad time to tease him. “I promise.”

He settles down slightly.

“But, you’re gonna have to let me go a little. Just for a little while so I can comfort you properly, okay?”

“You won’t leave?”

“Don’t be silly, how can I leave?” I know you’ll drag me back inside even if I tried , I add in my head.

The monster grip on my body loosens, just before the thunder makes another appearance. I quickly hold his head to my chest and we collapse to the floor due to the spasm that his body makes. My legs are in a slightly awkward position, but I don’t mind too much. I lean against the wall behind me and stroke his hair before covering both of his ears.

“Bear with it, it’ll pass soon.”

He responds by holding me tighter and sniffing.

The storm lasts for about ten minutes more and we stay in the same position.

As soon as the storm is over, I move my hands from his ears and look down at him. “Senpai, the storm’s over, are you ready to go back…to bed?” My voice slows as I realise that his eyes are closed and he’s breathing rhythmically.

I’ve never seen his sleeping face. In fact, it surprises me that he’s capable of making such a peaceful expression. Almost all of the panic is gone, though his eyebrows still look a little irritated.

“Hey, I thought you were meant to be the parent,” I say in a low voice.

~

When I wake up, I have no idea where I am. Where’s the kitchen? The futon? The pile of books by the wall? There’s a small weight on my chest and my field of vision is filled with blonde hair. That’s right, I was shielding Senpai from the storm and we must have fallen asleep like this. It surprises me that we’d stayed in the exact same place for hours. My back aches and my legs feel numb.

“Tamaki, good morning!” someone slams the door open and runs into the room. It’s Hikaru…or Kaoru, my vision’s still blurry.

When I look back at Tamaki, he’s raised his head and is looking at me with tired eyes. At almost the same time, our faces heat up and we scramble away from each other.

“Oh~~?” Hikaru sings with a dirty smile. “We seem to have interrupted something special here, Kaoru.”

Kaoru steps into the room from outside and stands next to his brother. “Very special,” he joins in, looking at me and Tamaki-senpai in turn.

“We just fell asleep like this!” I’m not helping the situation. “It’s a misunderstanding!”

“Haruhi’s chest was too comfortable!” HE HELPS EVEN LESS!

“Senpai…” I start, trying to control the anger that's desperate to be let loose.

“Yes?”

“Choose your words properly!” I cry, kicking him in the head before pushing past the twins and slamming the door to my own room.

The last thing I hear before I pull the covers over my head are Hikaru and Kaoru fussing over Tamaki as he wails like a baby.

You deserve it…idiot prince.

#16 - Men Don't Cry

Today’s words: Measly, Awake, Water line, Cute

Word count: 500

Summary: Men: try to look past the society that puts pressure on you to be masculine as fuck

 “You said the computer would be ready by Monday!” I yell down the phone at the useless computer repair man. “What day is it?” My sarcasm drilled through the receiver like a…drill.

“…It’s Mon--”

“Monday!” I finish off for him. “When you tell someone that something will be ready on a certain day, it should be ready, when?”

“…Uh, o-on…”

“On that day, you incompetent wanker!” My throat feels raw and the hand gripping the receiver aches. “I’ll make you a deal, okay?” My voice lightens. “If you get it done by tomorrow, I won’t twist your measly bollocks off with a pair of pliers,” I coo as my fingers strangle the phone cord.

I hang up the phone, cutting off his pathetic voice and sit back in my chair. I have asserted my dominance as a true man.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” my wife smiles at me from the armchair in front of the desk.

I match her smile and lean forward, the chair creaks. “Say that again?”

“You’re--”

“Am I awake right now? I’m awake, right?” I stop her. “Babe, look at me.”

She does as I say.

“Guys aren’t ‘cute’,” I stand up and walk behind the chair she’s sat on, resting my hands on the back. The chair is forced back slightly. “Think,” my voice is ticking the hair by her ear, “what’s the definition of cute? Girly,” the sentence is finished for her.

“I’m sure that’s up for debate…”

“When I think of ‘cute’,” the word wriggles uncomfortably in my mouth, “I think of…little girls with big eyes, frilly dresses, babies… I’m not a baby, honey,” I confirm seriously. “I’m a man.” My voice then becomes a little philosophical. “You know those water lines on ships that measure how high the water rises? The same thing is true for me – there is a water line inside of my tear ducts and that line is buried deep inside.”

My wife tilts her head.

“Men have these, but women don’t. That’s why you’ll never see a true man cry because a pair of jeans makes them look a size bigger. Men don’t cry,” I stand in front of her, resting myself on the edge of my desk. “Therefore men are not cute.”

“…What?”

“Yes,” I feel extremely satisfied.

“What you said is not only nonsensical, it’s also extremely sexist,” she also stands. “People often make fun of men if they cry, or say something that implies feminity, but crying is natural. Emotion is not just limited to the female; being emotional if you’re a guy only means that you’re human. Hell, even animals cry.” Then the tone changes. “And crying has nothing to do with being ‘cute’, are you an idiot?”

Is this person before me truly my obedient wife? “…Are you--”

“I swear, if you ask if I’m menstruating, I won’t hesitate to mutilate your bollocks.”

She walks out, slamming the door.

…….

“Women…” I mutter, ignoring the lump in my throat.

#15 - Don't Cry

Today’s words: Reduce, Elytroid, Design, Foxtail

Word count: 374

Summary: 'If she didn’t cry, there was no admitting that anything bad had happened.'

This one wrote itself as I typed. Was originally going to be a poem.

Mayumi Terada 'Rocking Chair and Window'

She sits in a rocking chair by the window, one leg hung over the arm, the other foot gently pushing the chair back and forth. She rocks so that she’s barely moving; the faster she moves, the more she’ll realise that that she’s trying to comfort herself. Her mother would hug tighter when something bad happened; she hated that – those hugs made her cry. What her mother thought would reduce the pain only heightened it.

All is silent, aside from the sound of the rockers rolling against the wooden floor and the odd bird outside heading to its nest to for the evening. She loves this – quiet. The atmosphere surrounds her peacefully and she closes her eyes to drown out sight. She didn’t need to see anything, not any of the furniture, the ornaments, the worn-out rug, no, there was no point in staring at them because if she looked at them in a certain way, she wouldn’t be able to stop crying. Her heart was cased like a gold beetle’s elytroid and the slightest flutter would reveal a fragile set of wings, wings that didn’t want to be exposed because they were so fragile, so easy to rip off.

This was her design: if she didn’t cry, there was no admitting that anything bad had happened. All she had to do was hold it together.

After a while, something breaks the silence. Her eyes open and she looks down at where the sound came from.

She looked at the gold charm bracelet that had knocked against the chair’s arm. It was the tiniest of knocks, but it made her throat close up and her eyes sting. The charm facing her was a small foxtail made out of solid gold. She’d always said that she didn’t like rings, so he had gotten her this – part of her favourite animal to carry around with her on the only bracelet that she always wore.

“A vixen needs a beautiful tail.”

She hurriedly unclasped the bracelet with jittery fingers and threw it across the room, flinching as it hit the floor.

Bringing both feet onto the seat of the chair, she hid her face in her knees, ignoring the fact that they had begun to get wet.

#14 - A-cup

Today’s words: Silver, Join, Cheeseboard, Pumped

Word count: 937

Summary: A young girl’s best friend proves that chest size doesn’t matter when it comes to a beautiful prom dress, or anything for that matter.

Note: This is the longest story so far, but I couldn’t limit myself when this message is relevant for so many people.

Martin stood up from the chair and looked at the navy dress they had chosen. It was silk, halter neck, with a thin silver belt under the bust, and the rest of the dress wrapped snugly around her waist before flowing onto the floor.

“You look...”

“Dumb?” Siobhan offered, putting both hands on her hips as she looked in the mirror, turning to the side. “I don’t have the boobs for a dress like this.” She focused on the v-cut, imagining that she was two cup sizes bigger. “I’ll try the last one on and we can go look somewhere else, okay?”

She began to draw the curtain before Martin yanked it open again. “What are you talking about?” he asked, appalled. Raising Siobhan’s hand above her head, he motioned for her to spin around. “This dress looks amazing on you,” she spun once, tentatively, “it fits you perfectly! I’m sure the cutlery and what-have-you from Beauty and the Beast  would have had a fit if Belle didn’t like the yellow dress!” His eyes were fixed on the dress, struggling to take in every inch. “I’m not kidding when I say I’ve never seen you look so elegant, so radiant, so...”

“Alright, alright,” she giggled, shooing him away with her hands. “I’ll get the dress.” Martin pursed his lips, trying to conceal his glee. “I have a back-up at home anyway, so I can take this back and change my mind any time, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, I got it!”

~

“Why did I listen to you?” Siobhan sighed as Martin held her hand and walked ahead of her towards the hotel that the prom was being held at.

White limousines and chattering teenagers decorated the entrance in front of the golden revolving doors; Siobhan held her head down.

“I look like a child playing dress-up with her mother’s clothes,” she scrutinized her chest. “What's up, A-cup? They look like rose-buds that forgot to bloom. All the other girls--”

“A lot of the other girls also like Taylor Swift, that doesn’t make it right.”

~

It was an hour into the night and Siobhan had had nothing but kind words about how great her hair looked, how well Martin matched her with his white suit and navy tie, and most importantly, how ‘grown-up’, how ‘beautiful’, how ‘stylish’ the dress made her look. At school, she was always in a uniform that hung rather than clung, so she caught a lot of people's attention that night.

“You’re like a butterfly,” one of her classmates, Tilly, said. “I had no idea you were so pretty.”

“Nor did I...?” Siobhan replied, glancing at Martin who winked and mouthed, ‘told you so.’

“Nor did I,” came a voice from behind her. Turning around, she was met with Shannon: big-breasted, big-haired girl in a dress that Siobhan was sure was...

“Is that a wedding dress ?” Siobhan whispered to herself, looking at everyone to check their faces for any mutual shock.

“Where’s this ‘pretty’ girl?” she looked everywhere but at Siobhan. “Is this why you’ve never worn nice clothes?” she focused on Siobhan's breasts. “Because you’re as flat as a cheeseboard?”

“A...a what? A cheeseboard ?” Siobhan replied, testing the word out on her tongue. “Is that supposed to be a...posh insult?”

“Cheeseboard, ha!” Davey, quipped, putting a hand around Shannon’s waist. “You’re not wrong, there’s nothing there.”

Siobhan felt her face getting hotter as she clenched her fists. “This wannabe bride dares to....”

“Hey, whoa now,” Martin said, “let me join in on this one.” He puffed his chest out and walked up to the bullies until barely a few inches separated their feet. “My chest isn’t exactly like a pumped up pair of balloons either, man.”

“You’re a guy?” Davey said as if Martin were incapable of realizing. “You’re supposed to have a flat chest.”

“Oh alright, and a ‘girl’ is 'supposed' to be, what?” he stole a look at Shannon. “Big-chested? Skinny-waisted? A passive creature that exists to look good on your arm? Please,” he pulled Siobhan closer to him, “this lovely lady is better than both of you put together, and some.”

Davey rearranged his feet and stared at Martin; Shannon just looked at Siobhan, refusing to acknowledge anything ‘better’ about her.

Martin continued. “Something as minor as how she looks should be none of your concern.”

“Whatever, you’re so gay,” Davey laughed.

“If caring about my female friend makes me ‘gay’, then...” Martin seized Davey by his lapels, got on his tip-toes and kissed him. “...I guess I’m gay,” he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

Tilly clapped and screamed, “Someone got told !”

“What the fuck ?” Davey pushed him away and wiped his lips so furiously that part of the dry skin got rubbed onto his hand. “Fuck...fucking dick!” he stuttered.

“Save the dirty talk for later, yeah?” Martin winked.

Siobhan couldn’t contain it any longer, she burst out laughing, which made Shannon speak up: “Oh grow up, you freaks!” Grabbing Davey by the arm, they headed to the main hall, Shannon nearly tripping over her dress as she went.

“I can’t believe you,” Siobhan continued to laugh, hitting Martin on the arm with the back of her hand. “But thanks.”

“You’re my best fucking friend, dude, like I’m gonna let anyone speak to you like that without making a scene.”

“Come on,” she held her hand out, “let’s show them what a real dance looks like.”

“Thriller ?”

She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

He bowed his head before looking at her and squeezing her hand. “Let’s tear that dance floor up , girl!”

#13 - Skinny

Today's words: Reflective, Broaden, Invisible, Sold

Word count: 490

Summary: Not all slim people are happy about their size (this isn't just for the girls either; I got your back, fellas).

The last time it happened was at the weekend, in Camden.

After spending ages looking at a dress in one of the shop windows, figuring out what I could wear with it and how good it might look on me, I was sold. The shop specialised in things like floral print, lace bows, and ‘Peter Pan’ collars, so walking in made me feel great...really feminine, you know?

All was going well, but as the lady behind the counter handed me my new dress in a black plastic bag, she went:

“This dress will look perfect on you, you’re so skinny!”

I wasn’t expecting it that time, so I flinched.

The s-word propelled itself from her mouth, piercing my flesh like a crudely-cut piece of glass.

I wished harder than I ever had that I had been invisible. People were behind me in the queue, they had obviously heard her say it. I imagined everyone in the small space looking at the bits of me that stuck out, judging the arms that looked like they could be snapped like twigs, staring like inquisitive toddlers at the shoulder bones that refused to stay hidden no matter how much I altered my posture.

I did what I always did: returned her smile, made sure to squint my eyes for authenticity, said ‘thank you’, and left.

On the long bus-ride home I held it together, avoiding eye-contact with everyone and curling my fingers tighter around the bag’s handles. As soon as I closed my front door, the calm expression that I had carefully stitched together with all of my will-power started to fray at the edges before completely falling apart. Walking up the stairs to get to my room had never been so arduous; I’d take a couple of steps before wailing like a child and falling to my knees, hand gripping the banister for comfort.

I’ve had people tell me that I should be grateful to be the size that I am, that I’m a shit for complaining about a body that all of the girls try so hard to fit into.

A lot of girls my size strike a pose in front of reflective surfaces, whereas I stare daggers at my knobbly bits and imagine that it’s someone different staring back at me.

People think it’s okay to put their thumb and forefinger around my wrist, marveling at the fact that they can get them all the way around. My best friend once picked me up to prove to everyone that I was as light as I looked. Heck, I even had someone I barely knew try to put both hands around my waist last year.

I want to gather all of the “skinny”s, the “thin”s, the “bony”s and set them on fire so that they can’t hurt me anymore.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, broaden your mind, okay? Some people my size are happy, but others are not.