@evigh3t
I don’t know what I can do to save you.
Signe smiled bashfully, ducking her head in embarrassment and silent thanks. She peeked from beneath a curtain of her hair and chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t think it can get much worse,” she admitted, though her words just held amusement. Her frustration from earlier had softened slightly, the offer of help releasing the tension in her shoulders. “I’ve got faith in you, but don’t worry if it truly is a lost cause.” It was hard for Signe to admit when she’d bitten off more than she chewed, so she preferred to sweep the whole thing under the rug and act like it wasn’t a big deal. All things considered, the state of her friendship bracelet wasn’t the end of the world, so she just had to remind herself of that.
bella was sitting on the other end of the friendship bracelet station. she was just making a few for some of her friends since she thought that these were really cute. it's been a while since she had done anything like this. " i was just going to ask if you need some help ─ " bella started. " there's no promises that i'll actually be able to get this out. but hey, there's no harm in trying. " the frustration that signe had was obvious but bella was more than happy to try and help, if she could. " reaching out and taking the strings in her hand she tried to undo the tangles from it. " you know ... that probably would be your best bet. but now you've got me determined to sit here and try and get this out. let's just hope i don't make it worse than it already is. "
“I’m not a particularly picky eater, so you can just make me your specialty,” she said with a shrug and a smile. The smile couldn’t help but widen at his enthusiasm about guessing the origin of her accent so closely. Signe brightened as he shared that he’d spent time in Denmark. “My dad’s from Denmark, so I spent a lot of summers visiting relatives. I’m glad you enjoyed it! You’ll have to show me what you learned while you were there.” She walked beside him in silence, letting his voice fill the space between them. She was surprised that he had chosen to share such a detailed version of events with her. A heavy weight sat on her heart – not bad just…real. Charlie’s deciding ( whether he realized it or not ) that she was worth trusting with the details of his story meant more than she’d expected it to. Signe took that show of trust quite seriously. She glanced over at him, and watched the way his eyes lingered on a new painting like he was still halfway somewhere else. She could picture that little boy in her mind – bright-eyed, heart pounding in his chest as he imagined what it would be like to have a stadium roaring for you. And she could see the man now, who had pivot on his dream and carry on. It agonized her, the thought of not being able to follow your passion and see it all the way through – even if you were destined to fail. To be denied the opportunity to try would have been the most infuriating of all. “You weren’t running,” she said, her voice soft but fierce, almost defensive on his behalf. She grabbed his forearm and met his gaze to make sure he heard her next words. “You were. healing. It takes great courage to find a new dream like you did. I don’t think I would be able to do that.” Signe offered what she hoped was a sympathetic smile and squeezed his arm in support. “And for what it’s worth. I’m glad you found your way here.”
"Yeah?" He licked his lips in an attempt to keep his smile down, "You let me know what to make for ya, and I'll get the photos out." Charlie's eyes met hers for a brief moment, "As long as you're gentle, I'll be mint." His hands clap together quickly as he learns he guessed well. "I knew it! It's the way ya sing your words." He can't contain his smile as she gives him a small glimpse into her past, "I've been to Denmark before. Studied with a mate at Noma in Copenhagen for a bit before I kept travelin'. I learned a lot there. I was buzzin'. In me element, swear down. I loved it." His eyes glanced around them, but he found himself being drawn back to her each time.
"I get it, what you mean by warm.. I feel the same way." He pauses to think for a moment as he listens to their footsteps, not used to letting people in this quickly. "So when I were a kid, yeah? We lived in a council estate. Rough area, makin' ends meet as much as we could. It were just me and mum. I'd go to school, come home, do me school work, and then I'd cook dinner and clean up around the house while mum was workin'. One year, she tells me she's saved enough to take me to a Man City game for my eighth birthday. At the game she'd said somethin' about watchin' me practice in the yard in the late hours and how she'd been savin' more and she'd signed me up for a footy team." He smiles fondly to himself, "I watched that game and told her I were gonna work hard, just like her, and pay her back. And she told me just to have fun.. So I did. And I was good. I was better than good. By the time I were thirteen, I was havin' scouts come around. I signed to Man City's youth team at fifteen." Charlie stops talking for a moment, looking over at a painting that caught his eye and stopping to take it in.
He finally looks back over at Signe, a sad smile resting on his lips, "I had it all planned out, yeah? My entire life, right there. Everythin' I'd worked for and told my mum I was doin' for us were in the palm of me hand." He chuckles half heartedly, "Well, I sign, right? Make my way out of EDS, which means this is it. Big leagues. Premier league. Two weeks before my startin game I got hurt. Like.. Career endin' injury. And that was it. Had to start over just like that. Back to square one." Charlie brings his eyes back to the painting that had stopped him, "Cooking was the last thing I could remember enjoying before football. It was the only thing that made sense. And it felt like studyin' all over was the best excuse for gettin' out of my town. That way I wouldn't look like I was runnin'."
Signe’s face lit up when Charlie pulled out the photos and moved closer, warmth blooming in her chest the moment their shoulders brushed. She clutched the photos gently, giggles escaping her with each new picture she flipped through. Signe let their shoulders stay pressed together, grounding herself in the feeling of his heat against her skin. “Oh, Charlie,” she breathed, laughing especially hard at the sight of the bold prints and the sunglasses that looks ready to swallow his face. She held the prints in her hand as if they were precious artifact. “Your mom might be my new favorite person if she can keep supplying me with these,” Signe teased. The way that Charlie listened to her and didn’t dismiss her feelings cracked something inside her chest wide open. He spoke in soft and gentle tones, not trying to make the words anything more than what they were, and it made the back of her throat tighten. Not from sadness, but from such total acceptance – from being so quickly understood by this strange and wonderful boy. Her fingers tightened as he held her hand and confessed he wasn’t all charm and jokes, and that he was scared too, and that he was still trying, still chasing the things he wanted even when it terrified him. And then he started talking about himself – little things, mundane things, some slightly more important things. Signe blinked repeatedly, swallowing the sudden burn in her throat. She let out a shaky break and shook her head before looking at him. “You make opening up seem…less scary.” Her thumb brushed along the back of his hand, mirroring the way he’d been touching her. Signe took a moment to gather herself and then nodded, smiling faintly. “Okay. My turn.” “I’m Signe Holmström. My mom’s name is Sigrid, dad is Søren … Don’t worry, I’ll help you with the pronunciation,” she smirked to herself, already imagining Charlie struggling with the task. “They’ve always given me everything they could, and while my head understands they’re proud of me…part of me feels like I need to be…better? Successful? In order to be worthy of all that they’ve given me.” She hesitated, the shine in her eyes flickering for just a second before she pushed forward with a small smile. “My favorite color’s green – but like a pastel, sage green. I’ve lived in the States for ten years now, but I still miss Malmö every winter when we don’t get any snow.” Her eyes met his and she fought a smirk as she continued. “I’m terrible at running, I was always more of a swimmer if I had to pick a sport. Hot cheetos are my guilty pleasure snack. I hate olives, can’t stand ‘em,” Signe wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’m a little bit of a perfectionist. And like…scary organized. You should see my closet sometime. I hate when a house or room is too quiet, so I sing to myself. I’m God awful at board games,” she let out a watery laugh, wiping any tears with her fingers. “You’d absolutely destroy me.” “But…I’m trying too,” she whispered. “Trying to be brave.”
Charlie laughed, the sound warm and easy as he watched her light up at the mention of his past questionable fashion choices. At her excited invite, he didn’t hesitate to slide closer, closing the small space between them as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He reached into the bottom of the basket, pulling out the folded stack of photos. “These were the only ones I could dig up from my football days,” he said, nudging his shoulder softly against hers as their arms touched. “But Mum said she’s got some tucked away back home, reckons they’re too good to keep to herself, so I’m sure you’ll be gettin’ those soon enough.”
Their shoulders stayed pressed together, the nerves he’d carried into the evening long gone now, replaced by something calmer, easier. He handed over the photos, loud designer prints, bold patters, shorts and shoes that did not match the top half of his outfit, sunglasses far too large, and immediately covered his face with one hand, peeking at her through the gaps between his fingers. “Listen, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life—but these outfits? Top of the list.”
When he felt her pinky hook into his, his hand dropped, eyes catching hers just as her smile softened and her expression shifted, just enough that if he hadn’t been paying attention, he might’ve missed it. But he was paying attention. His brow knit together slightly, quieting, leaning into the moment as she spoke. “That’s what a date’s supposed to be, yeah?” he said gently. “Gettin’ to know each other. The whole picture, not just the bits we like showin’ off.” The smile on his face softened, not playful now but real, open. When she mentioned him only knowing the charming version of her, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
“You think this is me all the time?” He tilted his head, gaze steady on hers. “I promise. I’m not all charm and jokes. We’re all a bit fucked up underneath, aren’t we? It’s just about findin’ someone you can be fucked up with.” He shifted, leaning in just slightly, not to flirt, but to assure, “There’s no tellin’ what we’ll learn about each other. But you don’t have to worry about scarin’ me off. No pressure here. None at all.” He paused for a beat, his voice somehow softer now. “I’m scared too, y’know… a lot of the time. About work, about leavin' home and me mum behind, about what comes next.. But I’ve been tryin’ real hard not to let it stop me from goin’ after what I want. Not after missin' out on football.. I won't make that mistake again.”
Then, because the air felt a little too heavy for a second, and because lightening it was as much habit as it was care, he bumped their shoulders together, grinning. “Besides, I’m from Moss Side. Some of my mates were proper bad news. I don’t scare easy.” His grin widened, teasing. “I can sit through all of Nightmare on Elm Street and only have to cover my eyes, like, twice.” The tension eased between them again as he laced his fingers fully through hers, linking their hands together without rush, without asking. Just sure.
“Well… Hughes is my last name,” he started, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “Mum’s name is Wendy. Dad’s Charles.. yeah, I’m a Jr. But no one’s allowed to call me Charles. Been Charlie since I were a baby.” He smiled at her, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Favorite color’s blue.. but it’s a very specific blue. I’ll point it out when I see it.” “My injury was already ten years ago now, but I have some nerve damage, so long shifts in the kitchen can be hell on it. And runs, but I still go on 'em.” His lips pressed together for a second before the smile returned, a little sheepish. “I love video games. Hate broccoli. Tried, can’t do it. Absolute sucker for sushi, though. And I’m annoyin’ to watch football with ‘cause I get loud like I’m right there in the stands.” He gave her fingers a soft squeeze. “I’m a bit uptight in the kitchen. I mean, my coworkers would probably say very uptight.” A chuckle pushed past his lips. “And I’m ridiculously competitive. Doesn’t matter what it is, cards, board games, coin toss.. I hate losin’.” Charlie leaned his head to the side, considering her with a smile that felt steadier now, more sure. “But I’m workin’ on it.” His thumb brushed lightly across her hand once more, his eyes meeting hers fully again. “Like I said… determined sort of guy.”
Signe let out a soft, relieved laugh, handing over the tangled mess of her bracelet across the table toward the girl without hesitation. “Thank God,” she muttered under her breath, offering the other a sheepish smile. “Thank you truly. I was literally just two seconds away from tying a note and pretending it was supposed to look like that.” Signe leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand as she watched the girl tackle what she viewed as the gargantuan task of untangling her bracelet. “It really didn’t look that complicated from the tutorial.”
Though Georgia usually works with wire or chains, she isn't unfamiliar with the old art of friendship bracelets. She'd made many in her time, not very often for anyone in particular, but a young Georgia could at least pretend someone else had the other half if she wore hers proudly on her wrist. She hadn't actually intended to come over to the station, but the call had eventually gotten too much to resist, especially with her friends busy socialising with people Georgia doesn't and has no interest in knowing. It'd been nice at first, to have a moment to herself amongst the chaos of an otherwise heated party, but a voice beside her crying out for her help isn't unwelcome either. "No, no. Give it here; let me have a crack at it." She insists, already carefully laying hers down flat in front of her. "It comes with practice, like the first few times you'll have braided your hair and it all got tangled."
Signe’s answering smile was soft and understanding. There was something familiar in what the other girl had said, almost as if she’d pulled the thoughts from Signe’s own head. “Do you paint?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. “I was thinking something very similar myself. The colors and the movement of the dancer’s skirt, even in a portrait have my head spinning on how you could make fabric do that, look like that in real life.” She turned her head back towards the painting in front of them. “Moments like this just have me itching for my sketchbook.” “It’s funny, isn’t it? How sometimes what you end up making ends up looking nothing like what inspired it?” she giggled, mostly amused at the thought. Signe returned her focus to the girl, studying her closely. “What kind of stuff do your normally like to make? You said you were working on something new?”
mango bay art district was a place that bella had came to visit every so often. she lived in ocean's edge but often times would come out to mango bay to take a look around. it sometimes even gave her a little bit of motivation to keep going with her own work. she worked at a bar as of this moment. but in the future? she's hoping to be able to live out her dreams of being an artist somewhere. even a graphic designer if that meant that she was able to get her artwork out there more and more. she had a ton of projects that she was busy working on, as well. but nothing was finished. bella liked to finish majority of her drawings or paintings up when the inspiration for them had seemed to come on through.
recreating different things into your own perspective was always the fun thing about art. at least that's what she had thought about it. she was just starting to approach to the other side when a voice was heard. " oh, no. you're fine. i was simply just observing like every one else. figured i'd come here to try and get some more inspiration for another project i wanted to work on. " responding with a quick shrug of her shoulders. " it's like ... sometimes i want to create things but i like to feel inspired first. otherwise i'm not quite sure how to translate the image i've got in my head onto the canvas. "
She offered him a secret smile, one that highlighted just how much she enjoyed their little back and forth, like they were the only two who understood the true meaning behind their words. A pleased flush was on her cheeks when his lips brushed against them, the blush something that was becoming a semi-permanent trait in his presence. “Oh, you can’t stop thinking about me?” Her hand came up to his chest, her fingers trailing along the frankly disrespectful display of bare skin before lifting her gaze to his. “For the record, I mildly enjoy your company the most when you’re making declarations like that.” With that stupid pretty mouth was the part she left unsaid. A beat passed and then she added, softer. “But you’re right. I like having you around… like who I am around you.” Her hand traced up his collarbone and then she brushed her thumb along the edge of his jaw. “I don’t care who you used to be, Charlie. I care about who you choose to be now. I know we pretty much just met, but this version of you? He’s a good man,” Signe leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth with quiet intention. “And from the little I know, even back then, you had this heart underneath it all. Even if you were to slip, you’d find your way back.” She looked into his eyes, making sure he saw how much she believed the words she was saying. She smiled and reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out her phone. “Come on, let’s take a selfie. I want to remember our first date,” she said, whirling around and leaning back into him. She snapped a few photos quickly, trying to catch him off-guard in a few before he posed with her. Signe giggled, glancing at the photos on her phone. She looked over her shoulder and smirked, mischief sparking in her eyes. “Want to take a really unhinged one?”
Charlie arched a brow, the cocky edge to his grin settling in as he stepped closer, just enough for her to feel his presence. He raised his eyebrows, leveling his eyes to hers, "You only mildly enjoy my company under very specific circumstances… got it," he said, drawing the words out with playful mock offense. He tilted his head, eyes glittering with teasing challenge as he slowly licked his lips, then dipped his head. "I think," he murmured low near her ear, "you’re tryin’ to keep me around more than you’re lettin’ on." He didn’t move far after that, gaze softening slightly as he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes.
"I get what you mean. Maybe that’s what I am too.. I’ve always chased connection, maybe attention, if we’re bein’ honest. I just liked bein’ around people. Didn’t matter who, really." He paused. "I might feel a bit different now, though... Can’t stop thinkin’ about you." His lips brushed just barely against her cheek, gentle and intentional.
His voice dipped again, quieter this time, the smile faltering only slightly. "My mum never expected much from me.. she just wanted me happy. It was everyone else. Coaches, mates, teachers… my father.. they saw potential and pushed it hard. I was good, so it made sense." He shrugged, the motion small but rigid at the edges. "And then it was.. well I had to change plans. Just like that." His injury may have been nearly a decade prior, but it hadn't hurt him any less.
Charlie’s eyes dropped for a moment, thumb brushing lightly along her arm aimlessly, grounding himself as much as her. "I think what scares me most is slippin’ back into who I used to be.. The kid with a mile hight wall, always deflectin’ with a joke.. Or worse, turnin’ into the men I was raised around." He looked down at her, thoughtfully, "I don't wanna be the man I was.. I really like what I have now, and I don't intend on screwin' this up." He looked back up at her then, the smile returning, smaller but more real. "And I’m not gonna, Signe. Not with you. I'm not goin' anywhere and I mean that. You're not gonna scare me away."
Celine's expression shifted, barely concealing her amusement. Her eyes glanced down at the basket in his hand with several well-worn books. "Books," she noted, a hint of approval slipping into her voice. "I'm surprised you managed to find that many in a shop like this." His sudden lava lamp factoid made her blink once and then let out a laugh, slightly incredulous. "Astro lamps, huh?" she echoed, folding her arms. "That kind of sounds like the name of a failed disco band from the seventies. I kinda love that." She leaned against one of the nearby display tables and tilted her head at the boy. "Are you always full of obscure trivia, or is today just my lucky day?" she asked.
Henry looked up as he heard the woman speak, wondering if she was actually conversing with him or just thin air. And then she turned to him, causing his cheeks to color up a little bit as her eyes unexpectedly met his. “Well--” Before he really had time to voice his opinion on the sunglasses, she was asking him another question. A faint smile touched his lips as she spoke, though his nose wrinkled just slightly at the idea of couches with suspicious stains. “Well, none of those,” he admitted, and held up the basket that was dangling from one hand, which was full of books. Mostly paperbacks, a few hardcover, many with yellowing pages. He glanced around the store before his eyes turned back to her. “Did you know lava lamps were originally called Astro Lamps and originated in the UK?”
Signe smiled at the warmth on the woman’s expression at the mention of her aunt. “Made of lot of friendship bracelets in your time?” she asked, jokingly. She pondered her comparison to threading a needle and hummed to herself. Her eyes followed her nimble fingers as they steadily worked on the knotted mess. “I guess I see the similarities, even if my fingers haven’t quite grasped it yet.”
“i have my aunt to thank for that,” she smiles at the other softly, nails hard at work on the tangled mess of string. most of her fond memories of london include sitting around the table, beading jewlery with her aunt and cousin. those days, though, were long gone, living in fleeting moments of memory yet still held just as dear. a light chuckle at her joke, looking up from the mess for only a second. “isn't string just plastic thread ? once you figure out how not to drop it every five seconds, it's basically like threading a needle over and over again.”
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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