Chai
๐ด๐ฎ๐๐น๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ ๐ด๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฝ ๐ด๐ถ๐ฟ๐น๐ฝ๐ผ๐๐
- Joined
- Aug 24, 2017
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๐ข๐ญ ๐๐ง๐๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ. โโ Chai & Saint Saccharine
- Thread starter Chai
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Chai
๐ด๐ฎ๐๐น๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ ๐ด๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฝ ๐ด๐ถ๐ฟ๐น๐ฝ๐ผ๐๐
- Joined
- Aug 24, 2017
Wind whipped around her as Sophia Sinclair sped down interstate 75, windows down, her dark hair flying as she sang along to Taylor Swift blaring through the car. It was the last stretch of the almost 4 hour drive from Savannah to Atlanta, and only lagging a bit behind schedule. Taking the extra time had been worth keeping her sanity; she hated longer drives, even one as 'short' as this. Atlanta traffic certainly didn't make anything better, though it had mostly been avoidable through careful timing.
Her exit was coming up and she slid one lane over, her fingers fumbling with the buttons to the windows, braking harder than she intended to when the light came sooner than expected.
"Fuck," she muttered, feeling one of the boxes in the back seat slam behind her.
She didn't have a lot, only clothes, bedding, and whatever else that fit, but she still grimaced at the heavy thud. There were some expensive things back thereโa laptop and a new TV that she didn't really need, but would have been insane to leave at her old apartment. Hopefully they would escape her poor driving unscathed.
A sharp ring came through the speakers, pausing the music, as the light turned green and she accelerated into her left turn.
"Hey, mom," she answered, her green eyes briefly flicking down to the caller ID on the dashboard display.
"Sophieโ" Marie Sinclair's voice was soft on the other end of line, tinged with sleepiness. There was a pause as she yawned. "I just wanted to make sure you made it okay."
"Almost there, a few minutes away. I stopped to get coffee." Sophie gently rolled to a stop sign and, as if just now remembering the drink even existed, picked up the plastic cup from the console. She swished the liquid around, the ice cubes tumbling loudly within. "Lance knows I'm coming, rightโฆ?" she asked after a sip, "I didn't want to call super early, so I texted him and he hasn't responded."
"He knows, I told him even before you came down to visit, and I reminded him last night. But you know how he is."
"Yeah."
There wasn't much else to say. In fact, Sophie barely knew her brother at all. Technically he was her half-brother, considerably older than she was, and aside from the annual holiday gatherings, she had never spent any time with him. Not out of any disinterestโshe'd tried to get to know him beyond her childhoodโbut he seemed to intentionally distance himself. And if she had to guess, he specifically distanced himself from her.
"Ask him for the extra key. I told him to give it to you once you get there," Marie said, then cleared her throat, and Sophie could hear the shuffling of sheets in the background as her mother got out of bed, probably away from her father's ears. "Andโฆ I know you didn't want to discuss it while you were here, but if you ever want to talk about Ryan, Iโ"
"Mom," Sophie interrupted her, a hard edge to her normally sweet, bubbly tone.
She decidedly did not want to talk about her ex-boyfriend to anyone, even her mother. At least, not yet. The breakup was fresh and it had been messy, still shooting pangs of heartbreak if her mind ever wandered far enough to dwell on the memories. Catching her boyfriend with her best friend wasn't exactly the kind of thing that was easy to get over, and it was made worse by the fact that she and Ryan had recently gotten an apartment together for the upcoming semester. And while Sophie had graciously been allowed to stay with Lance (whose rented townhouse was paid for by their mother), her parents had made it very clear that, as punishment, she would still be financially responsible for her lease. It was an expensive, and important, lesson in why 20 year-old college students shouldn't be moving in with their boyfriends.
Outside, the city gave way to the more residential North Atlanta, trees lining the streets as she cruised past brick facades, white fences, and immaculately trimmed hedges. It was cookie cutter America, but it was safe and near enough to campus that she wouldn't have to worry about a long commute. She was close now.
"I'm here, I have to go," Sophie murmured, cutting through the silence, now regretting the harsh tone she'd taken earlier. "I'll call you later. Love you."
She hung up after Marie said her own goodbyes, then turned right to a small townhouse neighborhood. It looked newer, with young oaks and small lavender bushes lining the sidewalk. The scent of fresh mulch permeated the air, thick and earthy. Lance's place was nestled in the middle of the row, the entryway noticeably bare in comparison to his neighbors, not even a welcome mat at the door. As little as she knew about her own brother, she wasn't the least bit surprised. The emptiness seemed very on-brand for him.
It shouldn't have taken her as long as it did to exit the car, sitting in the driver's seat for five minutes before finally grabbing her things. Just nerves, she supposed, but how bad could it really be? She'd had unfriendly roommates before, and this would be no different if they both decided the other was insufferable. In the end, it wasn't like she had a choice.
She tucked the coffee cup into the crook of her elbow as she walked from the street to the front step, hopping up the stoop and pulling her phone out. She hugged the drink to her body as she typed, the cold biting into the bare sliver of midriff that peeked out from underneath the hem of her tank top.
Hey, I'm here
Her thumb hovered above the screen as she debated whether to send the message, yet another in a string of unanswered texts. After a few moments of consideration, she tapped the button and tucked the phone in her back pocket, then reached for the doorbell. It chimed inside, bright and echoey, and she waited.
And waited.
Seconds turned to agonizing minutes as Sophie stood there awkwardly at the door, shifting weight from one hip to the other. It was almost 10 AM on a Saturday; surely Lance couldn't have been sleeping in that late.
Are u up?
She sent the text and brought her fist to the door in a quick succession of raps, her annoyance bleeding through in the aggressiveness of the knock.
Her exit was coming up and she slid one lane over, her fingers fumbling with the buttons to the windows, braking harder than she intended to when the light came sooner than expected.
"Fuck," she muttered, feeling one of the boxes in the back seat slam behind her.
She didn't have a lot, only clothes, bedding, and whatever else that fit, but she still grimaced at the heavy thud. There were some expensive things back thereโa laptop and a new TV that she didn't really need, but would have been insane to leave at her old apartment. Hopefully they would escape her poor driving unscathed.
A sharp ring came through the speakers, pausing the music, as the light turned green and she accelerated into her left turn.
"Hey, mom," she answered, her green eyes briefly flicking down to the caller ID on the dashboard display.
"Sophieโ" Marie Sinclair's voice was soft on the other end of line, tinged with sleepiness. There was a pause as she yawned. "I just wanted to make sure you made it okay."
"Almost there, a few minutes away. I stopped to get coffee." Sophie gently rolled to a stop sign and, as if just now remembering the drink even existed, picked up the plastic cup from the console. She swished the liquid around, the ice cubes tumbling loudly within. "Lance knows I'm coming, rightโฆ?" she asked after a sip, "I didn't want to call super early, so I texted him and he hasn't responded."
"He knows, I told him even before you came down to visit, and I reminded him last night. But you know how he is."
"Yeah."
There wasn't much else to say. In fact, Sophie barely knew her brother at all. Technically he was her half-brother, considerably older than she was, and aside from the annual holiday gatherings, she had never spent any time with him. Not out of any disinterestโshe'd tried to get to know him beyond her childhoodโbut he seemed to intentionally distance himself. And if she had to guess, he specifically distanced himself from her.
"Ask him for the extra key. I told him to give it to you once you get there," Marie said, then cleared her throat, and Sophie could hear the shuffling of sheets in the background as her mother got out of bed, probably away from her father's ears. "Andโฆ I know you didn't want to discuss it while you were here, but if you ever want to talk about Ryan, Iโ"
"Mom," Sophie interrupted her, a hard edge to her normally sweet, bubbly tone.
She decidedly did not want to talk about her ex-boyfriend to anyone, even her mother. At least, not yet. The breakup was fresh and it had been messy, still shooting pangs of heartbreak if her mind ever wandered far enough to dwell on the memories. Catching her boyfriend with her best friend wasn't exactly the kind of thing that was easy to get over, and it was made worse by the fact that she and Ryan had recently gotten an apartment together for the upcoming semester. And while Sophie had graciously been allowed to stay with Lance (whose rented townhouse was paid for by their mother), her parents had made it very clear that, as punishment, she would still be financially responsible for her lease. It was an expensive, and important, lesson in why 20 year-old college students shouldn't be moving in with their boyfriends.
Outside, the city gave way to the more residential North Atlanta, trees lining the streets as she cruised past brick facades, white fences, and immaculately trimmed hedges. It was cookie cutter America, but it was safe and near enough to campus that she wouldn't have to worry about a long commute. She was close now.
"I'm here, I have to go," Sophie murmured, cutting through the silence, now regretting the harsh tone she'd taken earlier. "I'll call you later. Love you."
She hung up after Marie said her own goodbyes, then turned right to a small townhouse neighborhood. It looked newer, with young oaks and small lavender bushes lining the sidewalk. The scent of fresh mulch permeated the air, thick and earthy. Lance's place was nestled in the middle of the row, the entryway noticeably bare in comparison to his neighbors, not even a welcome mat at the door. As little as she knew about her own brother, she wasn't the least bit surprised. The emptiness seemed very on-brand for him.
It shouldn't have taken her as long as it did to exit the car, sitting in the driver's seat for five minutes before finally grabbing her things. Just nerves, she supposed, but how bad could it really be? She'd had unfriendly roommates before, and this would be no different if they both decided the other was insufferable. In the end, it wasn't like she had a choice.
She tucked the coffee cup into the crook of her elbow as she walked from the street to the front step, hopping up the stoop and pulling her phone out. She hugged the drink to her body as she typed, the cold biting into the bare sliver of midriff that peeked out from underneath the hem of her tank top.
Hey, I'm here
Her thumb hovered above the screen as she debated whether to send the message, yet another in a string of unanswered texts. After a few moments of consideration, she tapped the button and tucked the phone in her back pocket, then reached for the doorbell. It chimed inside, bright and echoey, and she waited.
And waited.
Seconds turned to agonizing minutes as Sophie stood there awkwardly at the door, shifting weight from one hip to the other. It was almost 10 AM on a Saturday; surely Lance couldn't have been sleeping in that late.
Are u up?
She sent the text and brought her fist to the door in a quick succession of raps, her annoyance bleeding through in the aggressiveness of the knock.
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Saint Saccharine
A Problem.
- Joined
- Dec 10, 2018
Lance Sinclair wasn't the type to be awake at ten in the morning on a Saturday. He was the type that was far more content to lay in bed, drifting in and out of sleep as the sun fought the thick fabric of his blackout curtains, and the menu for Call of Duty looped the same distorted riff for the seven-hundredth time. It was a good routine. It made sense. It worked for him. Fuck what everyone else thought, they weren't living in his shoes. They weren't living his life, dealing with the things he dealt with, dealing with the people he dealt with. Putting up with the stupid bullshit he was forced to deal with, day in, day out.
On that particular Saturday morning, at three minutes until ten, his phone buzzed. It was intrusive, annoying, wrong. He pulled his phone out from under his pillow and stared at the screen, a long line of messages, unread, unanswered, and increasingly inquisitive, greeted him, a stark, offensive light against the slate gray background. He read them, one by one, his brow furrowing further with each message, and his lip curling higher with every question. The messages were from a single source, an unsaved phone number, but it was clear they belonged to Sophie. His half-sister, but he considered her a stranger, and he was sure she thought the same of him. He was 33, thirteen years older than her. By the time she was old enough to have her own thoughts about the world, about things, about him, he was flunking out of college for the first time. While she was busy going to parties with her friends, and going on dates, he was getting fired for anti-social tendencies.
By the time she was old enough to not be a stranger, he didn't want to know her. He knew everything he needed to.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
Lance pulled a deep breath through his nose, and breathed out through his mouth. Mom told him she was coming. She'd told him that she would be staying with him. He'd yelled. He'd cursed at her. Told her there was no fucking way he was letting some college bitch take a room in his house. His mother had reminded him, in the sweetest tone a woman who'd just been called a raging cunt could muster, that Sophie wasn't some college bitch. Sophie was his sister. He'd snapped back, and muttered something about half siblings not counting, and his mother responded that it didn't fucking matter.
It did matter. But it wasn't an argument worth having, because she simply couldn't see it the way he did. None of them really understood. They were all too blinded by stupid societal norms.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
"Jesus fucking Christ, I get it." He mumbled, unmoving. He swiped through the screens of apps, reaching the end before repeating the gesture several times. Back and forth, back and forth, reaching the end on one side, before heading back to the other. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, his eyes flicking between the rows of apps with unread notifications to the little numbers at the top.
10:03.
10:06.
10:09.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
"Okay. Fucking damn." The words were little more than a scoff and a groan, muffled by the rustle of the blanket he tossed to the side. He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it even further before he stood and dressed. He considered just pulling on a robe over his boxers, but it wasn't like she was here for a visit. It wasn't like he could simply scare her into leaving. This was a complete and total invasion of his life. She was moving in. She would be walking amongst his things. Sitting on his furniture. Breathing his air.
God forbid she invited any of her stupid fucking friends over.
He threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and an old t-shirt, the type that if there had been a logo, it had long since faded away. He slipped his phone into his pocket, padded down the stairs, and opened the door. Sunlight streamed in, unwelcome and painful, and he squinted at her as if she were an equally unwelcome and painful visitor. For several long moments, neither of them said anything. Part of him thought about how funny it would be to just slam the door in her face.
She deserved it for standing there the way she did, a single coffee in her hands, expecting him to take her in. As if he owed her something.
He looked her over, not trying to be subtle, but simply taking her in. She dressed like the rest, and gave off similar vibes. Just another bitch who couldn't handle her problems.
He didn't move from where he stood, shifting his jaw side to side, popping it as he rolled the heavy sleep from his joints. Then, he looked her over again. Something was missing. Something was wrong.
"You got any shit?" He asked, quirking a brow as if the very idea offended him.
On that particular Saturday morning, at three minutes until ten, his phone buzzed. It was intrusive, annoying, wrong. He pulled his phone out from under his pillow and stared at the screen, a long line of messages, unread, unanswered, and increasingly inquisitive, greeted him, a stark, offensive light against the slate gray background. He read them, one by one, his brow furrowing further with each message, and his lip curling higher with every question. The messages were from a single source, an unsaved phone number, but it was clear they belonged to Sophie. His half-sister, but he considered her a stranger, and he was sure she thought the same of him. He was 33, thirteen years older than her. By the time she was old enough to have her own thoughts about the world, about things, about him, he was flunking out of college for the first time. While she was busy going to parties with her friends, and going on dates, he was getting fired for anti-social tendencies.
By the time she was old enough to not be a stranger, he didn't want to know her. He knew everything he needed to.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
Lance pulled a deep breath through his nose, and breathed out through his mouth. Mom told him she was coming. She'd told him that she would be staying with him. He'd yelled. He'd cursed at her. Told her there was no fucking way he was letting some college bitch take a room in his house. His mother had reminded him, in the sweetest tone a woman who'd just been called a raging cunt could muster, that Sophie wasn't some college bitch. Sophie was his sister. He'd snapped back, and muttered something about half siblings not counting, and his mother responded that it didn't fucking matter.
It did matter. But it wasn't an argument worth having, because she simply couldn't see it the way he did. None of them really understood. They were all too blinded by stupid societal norms.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
"Jesus fucking Christ, I get it." He mumbled, unmoving. He swiped through the screens of apps, reaching the end before repeating the gesture several times. Back and forth, back and forth, reaching the end on one side, before heading back to the other. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, his eyes flicking between the rows of apps with unread notifications to the little numbers at the top.
10:03.
10:06.
10:09.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
"Okay. Fucking damn." The words were little more than a scoff and a groan, muffled by the rustle of the blanket he tossed to the side. He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it even further before he stood and dressed. He considered just pulling on a robe over his boxers, but it wasn't like she was here for a visit. It wasn't like he could simply scare her into leaving. This was a complete and total invasion of his life. She was moving in. She would be walking amongst his things. Sitting on his furniture. Breathing his air.
God forbid she invited any of her stupid fucking friends over.
He threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and an old t-shirt, the type that if there had been a logo, it had long since faded away. He slipped his phone into his pocket, padded down the stairs, and opened the door. Sunlight streamed in, unwelcome and painful, and he squinted at her as if she were an equally unwelcome and painful visitor. For several long moments, neither of them said anything. Part of him thought about how funny it would be to just slam the door in her face.
She deserved it for standing there the way she did, a single coffee in her hands, expecting him to take her in. As if he owed her something.
He looked her over, not trying to be subtle, but simply taking her in. She dressed like the rest, and gave off similar vibes. Just another bitch who couldn't handle her problems.
He didn't move from where he stood, shifting his jaw side to side, popping it as he rolled the heavy sleep from his joints. Then, he looked her over again. Something was missing. Something was wrong.
"You got any shit?" He asked, quirking a brow as if the very idea offended him.
OP
OP
Chai
๐ด๐ฎ๐๐น๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ ๐ด๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฝ ๐ด๐ถ๐ฟ๐น๐ฝ๐ผ๐๐
- Joined
- Aug 24, 2017
Sophie didn't know how many times she knocked on his door, each set becoming progressively sharper and more agitated than that last. She paced, her white sneakers gently scraping along the concrete every time she turned. Then, finally admitting defeat, she lowered herself onto the step, took a seat, and fished her phone out of her pocket. She turned it around over and over in her hands, playing with it, unlocking the screen, and contemplated calling mom. But what would she really be able to do? At best, Sophie would get inside the house. At worst, it would make Lance think less of her, and she would still be locked outside. Or maybe it would even make him hate her.
Distant voices drew her attention across the street where a couple rounded the corner, their Dachshund bouncing happily along beside them. The womanโs eyes met Sophieโs as they walked by, then she nodded, smiled, and waved in good neighborly fashion. Sophie wouldn't have thought much of it, if not for the realization that she'd seen the couple before when she'd driven into the neighborhood. It must have been a whole ten minutes ago; more than.
With an exaggerated sigh, she stood, dusting her hands on the side of her jeans. For a moment her gaze drifted back to the doorbell, the urge to ring it over and over and over intruding within her mind. If being hounded by their mother made Lance dislike her, then there was no doubt in her mind that childish games would make him loathe her.
But no matter how annoyed she was, she liked to think that wasn't really her. Not the kind of person she was. She probably would have felt bad about it afterward anyway.
Instead, she pushed the thought away, a slight pout turning down her mouth as she raised her fist to knock once again. If the third time wasn't a charm, maybe the hundredth might be.
But the locks clicked and the door swung open, Lance looking down at her like... she didn't know, actually. He looked indifferent, bored, just a touch irate, and judging by the wrinkles in his clothes and the mussiness of his hair, she guessed that she might have woken him up. Guilt washed through her at the thought that she had even entertained abusing his poor doorbell.
"Hi yourself," she said to him, ignoring his question and cocking her head ever so slightly to the side. A twitch tugged at the corner of her lips; he was funny.
They stood there staring at each other for a couple more seconds, and then Sophie tentatively took a step forward, her hand pushing softly against the door. Something about her approaching presence made him jolt, and she watched him hurriedly move aside as she breezed past him across the threshold.
Like the outside, the interior was just as bare. Blank walls, a vision of white, grey, and black, and no decor in sight. A small planter sat atop the nearby window ledge, the soil dusty and bone dry. Whatever plant had been there had long since died, withered away and decayed until not a single trace of it was left. The whole thing was cute in some way, that it reflected exactly what she thought his place might be like, mismatched furniture and all. She even thought she saw the old leather couch from mom's house, the one she hadn't seen since she was in middle school. She always wondered where it went.
"I have some shit, yeah," she finally answered, placing her cup down on the coffee table, her eyes connecting with his. She smiled at him, a hesitant peace offering. Then her gaze shifted beyond the open door to her white Honda parked on the street. "Not a ton, but some.โ
She strode past him again, tying her long hair back with the scrunchie on her wrist, some of the dark tresses whipping softly against his chest as she twisted it into a loose bun.
โMostly clothes,โ she continued on with a brief glance back at her brother, โbut also some school stuff, kitchen things, which you probably already have enough of, but I guess mine can be extra, andโโ
A slam reverberated behind her, and Sophie realized halfway down the walkway that Lance hadnโt followed her outside at all. He had shut the door.
She blinked, caught in a strange place between irritation and laughter. Dick.
It only took a couple minutes for her to grab her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder, and one of the smaller boxes labeled โbathroomโ in black ink across the side. She hauled it back to the front door, thankful that it was unlocked, and found Lance sprawled across the couch on his phone.
An uncomfortable silence passed between them.
โShould I just pick a room, or how does this work?โ she asked, laughing softly even as the joke fell painfully flat.
Distant voices drew her attention across the street where a couple rounded the corner, their Dachshund bouncing happily along beside them. The womanโs eyes met Sophieโs as they walked by, then she nodded, smiled, and waved in good neighborly fashion. Sophie wouldn't have thought much of it, if not for the realization that she'd seen the couple before when she'd driven into the neighborhood. It must have been a whole ten minutes ago; more than.
With an exaggerated sigh, she stood, dusting her hands on the side of her jeans. For a moment her gaze drifted back to the doorbell, the urge to ring it over and over and over intruding within her mind. If being hounded by their mother made Lance dislike her, then there was no doubt in her mind that childish games would make him loathe her.
But no matter how annoyed she was, she liked to think that wasn't really her. Not the kind of person she was. She probably would have felt bad about it afterward anyway.
Instead, she pushed the thought away, a slight pout turning down her mouth as she raised her fist to knock once again. If the third time wasn't a charm, maybe the hundredth might be.
But the locks clicked and the door swung open, Lance looking down at her like... she didn't know, actually. He looked indifferent, bored, just a touch irate, and judging by the wrinkles in his clothes and the mussiness of his hair, she guessed that she might have woken him up. Guilt washed through her at the thought that she had even entertained abusing his poor doorbell.
"Hi yourself," she said to him, ignoring his question and cocking her head ever so slightly to the side. A twitch tugged at the corner of her lips; he was funny.
They stood there staring at each other for a couple more seconds, and then Sophie tentatively took a step forward, her hand pushing softly against the door. Something about her approaching presence made him jolt, and she watched him hurriedly move aside as she breezed past him across the threshold.
Like the outside, the interior was just as bare. Blank walls, a vision of white, grey, and black, and no decor in sight. A small planter sat atop the nearby window ledge, the soil dusty and bone dry. Whatever plant had been there had long since died, withered away and decayed until not a single trace of it was left. The whole thing was cute in some way, that it reflected exactly what she thought his place might be like, mismatched furniture and all. She even thought she saw the old leather couch from mom's house, the one she hadn't seen since she was in middle school. She always wondered where it went.
"I have some shit, yeah," she finally answered, placing her cup down on the coffee table, her eyes connecting with his. She smiled at him, a hesitant peace offering. Then her gaze shifted beyond the open door to her white Honda parked on the street. "Not a ton, but some.โ
She strode past him again, tying her long hair back with the scrunchie on her wrist, some of the dark tresses whipping softly against his chest as she twisted it into a loose bun.
โMostly clothes,โ she continued on with a brief glance back at her brother, โbut also some school stuff, kitchen things, which you probably already have enough of, but I guess mine can be extra, andโโ
A slam reverberated behind her, and Sophie realized halfway down the walkway that Lance hadnโt followed her outside at all. He had shut the door.
She blinked, caught in a strange place between irritation and laughter. Dick.
It only took a couple minutes for her to grab her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder, and one of the smaller boxes labeled โbathroomโ in black ink across the side. She hauled it back to the front door, thankful that it was unlocked, and found Lance sprawled across the couch on his phone.
An uncomfortable silence passed between them.
โShould I just pick a room, or how does this work?โ she asked, laughing softly even as the joke fell painfully flat.
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