rubilykskoye 𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓸𝔁 📬

[oomfies]

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[oomfies]

[ The Lottie he knew was— well, maybe the starting points were the same (over a decade of curating her presence on the internet did win her some points). But she was never that successful. Her sister got more clout than she did and that's because stupid Rosie was on stupid Netflix. ]

in real life i had an intern
esther was amazing and incredible and such a doll
i hope she's out there being a fashion mogul while my ass is missing

in my dream life i had you
it was so easy with you helping me and stuff
i remember just

being around you idk made me wanna work harder bc it seemed like you had it all figured out

[ And apropos of nothing (or maybe— not nothing, because this should ring some bells to their old life): ]

i've always wanted to own a house

[blueshit]

you know how successful you gotta be to have your own intern

i never had shit figured out like that back home

and the only house i ever owned used to be my aunts

[ Nothing like the bright, sunny mansion he'd had with Lottie. Nothing he'd ever had had been anything like it was with Lottie, really. ]

i guess we helped each other

[oomfies]

[ She wants to argue that if some part of him did in that universe, that dream, it's possible. Doesn't he have all the information? The know how? Just like how Lottie might know what doing illegal* (*because she's been prescribed them, for her ever frail body all her life) drugs feels like? ]

i can still help you
idk

intern prep for when you make it big back home maybe

it's really easy
esp if they're unpaid (i make sure of that)

[blueshit]

[ There's a longer delay before Jesse's response comes. Make it big. It had been all he'd wanted, once. All he'd dreamed about. Get famous. Be fucking known, have a brand. Chili powder in his meth. Cap'n Cook. A name, a signature.

Then it had happened. Fame, fortune, everything he'd dreamed of. And it had taken everything from him. All he'd wanted was to get out. ]

thanks but
im outta the game
i dont want that life anymore

[oomfies]

[ What an odd thing to say, to someone who thinks that's all he's ever wanted. She'd seen it— lived it. But Lottie also understands in the quiet and sad solidarity of her hiding spot that it wasn't real, either. Even if it felt real. ]

..what kind of life do you want then?

[blueshit]

i dunno
something quiet



something safe

[ Not just for him. For everyone around him. ]

[oomfies]

a desk job?

[blueshit]

fuck no
fuck that shit

something with my hands i guess

[oomfies]

what about cars??
you'd make a super cute mechanic babe

[ A beat. ]

sorry
habit

[blueshit]

[ Oops.

He gets it, though. Too well. It's not just habit. Not just the nicknames. It's all of it. The sex. The heartbreak. The love. ]

hey
i miss you

i still remember it
all of it

[oomfies]

[ There's a little tilt of her head to the side. Considering. Debating. Lottie isn't as dour as she was before, but she's one terrible thought away from being right back into it. Jesse's i still remember it threatens to bring her back.

She is experienced in forgetting. Shoving all unpleasant things aside so she can better function as a person. Death, in every form, has been shoved aside. Every time Caroline did, Lottie was none the wiser. Her own, is another. There is a buzzing, soft, almost tender, static to her that festers over towards him when he continues. All of it, he says. She stands so she can have an excuse to breathe. ]

i remember how we met

[ She tries for something pleasant. Something that she remembers always gave her butterflies. ]

i was lost in ktown and by myself
my phone died
and you were just like right there
like an angel

[blueshit]

[ All of it means the bad stuff and the good. Jesse smiles, expression softening at the memory. ]

you were totally freaking out
i had to come to your rescue
who knows what woulda happened to you otherwise

[oomfies]

something AWFUL
bad things always happen to hot people

i don't even know the streets in la
just landmarks

i was so scared i'd like die out there but you knew everything

[blueshit]

[ Bad things always happen. Yeah. That's the problem, isn't it?

They've been dancing around it, but even now, Jesse can't bring himself to say it outright. What had happened. How much does she even remember? ]

lottie
im sorry

[oomfies]

[ Her mouth is dry.

She'd prefer he didn't say this at all. Lottie shifts her attention to the kitchen, ignores everything around her to try and compartmentalize her feelings.

(It only half works. Her brain thinks of his tongue on her pussy and how hard her lungs hurt when breathing wasn't feasible anymore. How dying was so painful. What did she look like? What did he see? It wasn't fair, their fate.) ]

it wasn't real




it's okay

[blueshit]

[ It felt real, though. It felt real, even if it wasn't. He can still smell the coppery scent of her blood. See the way it bloomed and spread in the clear water of the pool. ]

its not ok

it was my fault

im sorry

[oomfies]

no. i told you to turn your phone off

even when i knew something could happen

if i hadnt
idk

[blueshit]

they were using you to get to me
you were only there cause of me

i shouldve done everything different

[oomfies]

[ There's a long, lengthy pause. ]

what

[blueshit]

[ Sorry Lottie, he's spiralling now. ]

imn sorry

you deserve so much better

[oomfies]

[ Lottie feels a little deranged. ]

oh my god

you're making my death totally about you

no way

[blueshit]

what

[oomfies]

wdym

WHAT

[blueshit]

im not

im just

ims orry

[oomfies]

have you asked how i felt?

like.. at all???

even once??

THINK about it