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Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times, you and I...; you forgive, you forget but you never let it go (private)
Topic Started: Mar 15 2016, 05:35 AM (1,026 Views)
Cicada Days
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Irene was the master of all video games where she had cheat codes. Like, in theory integrity was super important and Irene swore on her sister's fresh dug grave that she'd never cheat on a test or something. But what was also super important was making Jazzy EAT HER DUST! Besides, it wasn't like the race actually mattered or anything. Unless Irene won it, in which case it totally mattered. Victory was assured. She body blocked the walls and it was super effective, Jasmine had to awkwardly stumble behind her the whole way down. Guess what was behind Irene. Her dust. It was consumed.

"There is no fair in love and hate, yung Jazz!" Her mind's eye saw the 'yung' and young was thus yung. And the stock phrase was thus butchered to the gizzard. There was no fair. Only Irene's brilliant plan and-

A totally shitty twist.

"Oh man. Too obvious, Jazzy." About as obvious as the blitzkrieg head start had been. Irene was essentially miles from the couch that was spontaneously the finish line, she could only watch in brief despair as defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory. She wore a pout that crushed her lips. She'd had that one! Stupid technicality. Irene wasn't compelled to call it out, petulant and rebellious as she felt. No need to get so upset about something so minor and trivial when she didn't care about it in the long run.

"I'll get you next time." okay, still a little irked. But Irene quickly put on her best smile and meant it, bounced over to her friend's side and tossed herself onto the couch heartily. It was an explosion of Irene, taking half the cushions down with her. This was her element, right here, watching stuff on TV forever and ever. Yeah okay, maybe more Netflix and streaming sites nowadays than TV but it wasn't her fault America refused to catch up with the times and get anime on main channels.

"I may be the rotten egg but..." Quick. If she thought fast enough she might actually have been able to produce the words for a decent comeback. "I'm still sunny side up." Did that mean anything?
The Dies Before First Rolls Squad

The Nights
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“Ahaha.”

Jasmine giggled as she watched Irene pout and squirm about her loss. She placed a hand up to her mouth to cover it; she knew she was being rude, but it was just so fun watching her struggle, even if it was only a slight thing. She didn’t tend to do it to Irene much (because really, Irene was a friend, and Jasmine wasn’t going to mock her unless what she said absolutely deserved it) but she had to admit it was worth it when she did. It wasn’t the intended effect of her extending the boundaries of the race, but she was happy and willing to take all the benefits that her win gave her. Besides, it wasn’t like Irene was going to actually be angry at this; her pouting was more mildly annoyed than anything and Jasmine had seen her remain normal at far worse.

...She was annoyed enough to take her rage out on something, though. So much for making sure the couch looked neat. Really, she wasn’t sure how Irene constantly managed to do stunts like that without breaking her neck or at the very least injuring herself, like, morbid thoughts and the fact that that wasn’t really particularly stuntish aside Irene tended to jump around and do silly stuff like this. Not that Jasmine was complaining, though. It was cute when Irene did it. Not in that way, though. She knew that a couple of her classmates were into their own genders but she didn’t really belong in that club. She only had eyes for the cute goth dude from the year above her. She knew that she didn’t really have a chance with him but she couldn’t really help it, considering how pretty he looked whenever he walked into class and-

Whoops, off topic. Might be for the best if she didn’t do that again.

“Wow, Irene, you’re such a sore loser; now I have to go all the way to the other side of the couch,” Jasmine said, choosing to ignore her comment about being sunny-side up as she didn’t really have a comeback to that. She hoped that she had made it pretty clear in that what she said wasn’t actually serious, but if Irene took what she said at face value (like usual) she could explain that her comment about having to go to the other side of the couch wasn’t serious (like usual).

“So do you wanna just talk a bit or shall we get into the DVDs straight away?” Jasmine asked, nudging Irene’s head with her right leg. It tickled, slightly. Not something that made her burst out laughing (although really it was hard for tickling to make her laugh, they’d need to go to the stomach for it to affect her) but it made the grin on her face go a little bit wider for a second.
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Man, what a rude girl! Irene didn't care about or acknowledge that fact except on an intellectual level, much like her own less than well-mannered tendencies. Her brain chugged out something along the lines of 'oh hey that was probably not socially acceptable eeeeh who cares'. The gears of her cognition chugged on to other things. Milk or juice, those were things to chug. Irene had been a guest in Jazzy's house a couple of other times, she knew where the fridge was. If she acted fast enough she could unintentionally subvert Jasmine's possible attempts to be a good host.

Jazzy had watched Irene... whatever she'd just done? It was hard to tell, it had happened so fast. Irene hadn't taken the whole thing in anyways, suffering a limited viewpoint due to the unfortunate affliction of being herself at the time. Man, being herself though. Shit was tough, a hardship only she had ever known. Had occasionally reflected on while spread out like tapenade over her sheets with a thread count that was too damn high. What was tapenade, anyways? Where had she even heard that word? Asimah? She had to be sure to excise that shit from her brain the day before yesterday.

Back to the day before yesterday. Man this couch was comfy. It felt like home, though Irene rarely hung out on the living room couch back home so there was no direct comparison to be made.

“Yo I got lactic acid I'm so sore.” Irene began to melt into the upholstery, squishing her little body back into the cushions that were still sort of aligned. Exponential comfort, that was the ticket. Shoulders shrugged, fingers stretched and then relaxed. “But RIP on the other side of the couch. I hope you reflect on the sins you've committed this day.” Irene allowed her voice to be grave, buried under earth and mud and hyperbole. The theatrics never really did end with them. A couple of sentences later they'd probably be on some different wild tangent.

Like, uh. Usual.

“Maybe put on episode five, I think that's the one we both left off on? We can babble and half watch then get the focus on for the final episode.” Irene might have been misinformed, but she was throwing her totally glorious plan out there anyways. Something fleshy pressed into her cheek at that moment, Irene's reflexes caused her to loll away a bit with a shy smile playing at the corner of her lips. Then she realized what was up, and that smile found itself a whole playground to work with.

Oh. Touchy-touchy. Irene suddenly felt a little tense, felt the tremble of a palm in all too clear detail. Her throat was irritated by a breath playing hookie away from her lungs. Get down in there, dang it! Irene gulped down the stubborn air with a bit too much force, a nervous giggle bubbled out in half-tones. She initiated take off from airport 'the couch' (THC, in IATA code) with as much velocity as she'd had on her prior landing, kicking up more of a ruckus. She was unconsciously storming the kitchen, seeking a brief moment of refuge, seeking a brief moment of beverages (ideally milk or juice), before she remembered to ask:

“Gonna grab drinks from the kitchen, want any?”
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The Nights
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Hmm…

Okay, yeah, this was pretty comfortable. Jasmine didn’t really know why she suddenly felt the other way for that split second there. She was on the couch, left hand laying casually on the armrest thingy, back leaning into the cushions as her guest laid their head on her leg. It felt nice, in a way, tingly, empowering. She could stay like this for a bit and be happy, not even having to do anything, just sitting here and chatting with the person who was pretty easily her best friend. And hey, if Jasmine managed to convince her into getting the gossip out it would be even greater. If that happened, then this would be short term good due to how it was making her feel and it’d be long term good due to the information she’d likely get. It was worth trying, at the very least.

“Oh no, it seems that I am undertaking punishment for my sins! Please, my lady, spare me from what I have brought upon myself.” Okay, probably not the best reply to that, but very sudden improv certainly wasn’t her talent. Not too big considering how rarely it happened but she was aware enough of it that she wanted to fix it. She wasn’t very sure as to how, though. Improv wasn’t exactly something that lended itself to being fixed with training, given the sudden nature of it.

“And there isn’t an episode five, Irene. There are only three episodes in a season. God, it’s like you don’t even care about what I want to show you.” A despairful tone filled her words, almost as if she was going to cry any moment now. Truth was that she didn’t really care, but she liked messing with Irene, if only just a bit.

And then Irene just decided to up and leave, going to the kitchen. Oof. Rejected, apparently. She had never dared ask a guy out but this must be how she’d feel if she asked out Jae and he said no. Okay, well, not really. She’d probably feel a lot worse about that and it wasn’t even like this train of thought was remotely serious, but she was in a somewhat jokey mood today and for whatever reason she felt like going there. Probably because her friend was over at her house finally or something. She didn’t really know. While the space was gone though she figured that she’d take the opportunity to seize more territory. She laid down so that now she was the one taking up most of the couch. Ha, now Irene was the one who was going to get punished.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, replying to Irene from the kitchen.
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Man they were such lame girls. But that was part of the fun!

"There is no mercy, young one!" Irene couldn't exactly claim herself any better at improv than Jazzy. Wasn't the faux power dynamic supposed to be going the other way? To say nothing of the actual one. Irene was wandering off, exiting stage left with body and brain. Caught the correction as she meandered past door frame, feet drifting from carpeting to tile. Waxy. No point in not power sliding the rest of the way to the fridge. Repping the old grade school moonwalking attempts. Cause it's a killaaa, thrilla night-

"Wait, there are only three episodes?" Irene swore she'd watched more than three episodes when she'd backlogged the last season. But. She'd also watched more than three games of League at the same time. And her focus had definitely been going more one way than the other. Eh. Brain letting her down. Typical.

"Okay fine, three! You're right, you're always right, and you always will be!" Her response drifted out of the kitchen. Truer words had never been spoken from Djezari lips, probably.

She opened the fridge and let the cold snap over her like she was The Jets. She nearly shivered herself straight into the ajar door of the fridge. Never mind that, she had a moment to think. She'd come here mostly to secure drank- there it was, a cartoon of freshly unopened milk on the second shelf- but she also vaguely recalled... awkward feels. Flesh on flesh feels. Irene let her shy smile creep onto her face once more, not bashful about it now that there was no Jazzy in the immediate vicinity. She often touched people who weren't related to her, but only in a non-platonic sense. With all the flailing gesturing that was Irene's MO it was inevitable she grab people on the regular. But this time it had been different. What-slash-who were her crushes now? Danny Brooks, Chuck Walters, Ben Fields. The guys. Mary Santos, Hannah Kendrickstone, Jasmine Reed- wtf such pro nomenclature, King, Jasmine King. The girls. No need to discriminate between genders, cute was cute and stuff like that...

"No, it's fine."


"'Kay!"

AAAAAA-! It was so strange feeling. Last Irene had checked this much fluttery stomach contortion was a sign of hernia or peptic ulcer, not the ol' lovey-dovey. Stupid puberty. At least Irene had yet to say anything weird to any of the objects of her affections. Okay there was the rambling about anime and Homestuck around Mary, but in her defense that was half Mary's fault anyways. Around the other hot guys and gals her lips would be sealed. At least, she hoped they would be. One wrong impulse...

Irene grabbed the milk, and one cup. The cartoon was open with a fumbling flex of her fingers, and then Irene was back in her seat, legs crossed and butt shoved against one of the couch arms. She could have sworn there had been more space on the couch last time. She took her desired serving of dairy in crude gulps, left the milk in a median position between them. Not like Jazzy would take a drink with there having been only one cup. Though Irene gladly mused on immature thoughts of technical kissing via spit swap. Ew! Yet kinda...

"The time is now!" Irene weathered her blush with all of the grace she didn't posses. "We watch!" Her slightly spastic shifting in place meant her thigh breezed Jazzy's foot, in her sensitive state Irene snapped away right fast while her thoughts picked flower petals and the speed of the Daytona 500.
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“That’s better,” Jasmine replied, leaning her head back so she was looking upside down at the dining room. The kitchen was out of sight but she imagined that she was there in spirit, watching over Irene as she likely tried to get a drink from the fridge. Jasmine didn’t know what Irene was going for, but she imagined that it was probably going to be one of the coke or soda cans considering the stash that Julian had on the… fourth row at the very front. That was it. She remembered because of the many times she had to reach through or around the cans just to get the cheese or butter or something like that. As one could probably guess it was super annoying and she wished that he could find somewhere else to put them, although considering that she was struggling to figure out an alternate place to put them she supposed that he could keep them there for now. Maybe she’d just push them to the back of the fridge and move what she and everyone else needed to the front. That would teach him.

There was also the matter of how long she’d have to keep the queen act up to think about, but knowing her she had probably thought about it multiple times in the past couple minutes without even realising it. That happened sometimes, occasionally her head was even more over the place like usual and she had the same idea pop up in her head multiple times within 10 minutes without realising it. She normally just took a break then because whenever she was in that state she figured that it was unlikely that she was going to get any work done. That was also fairly annoying, especially whenever it happened when an assignment was almost due and she just couldn’t bring herself to focus on it. Hopefully she’d be able to work that off before 12th grade, otherwise she might actually start suffering problems and that certainly wasn’t something she wanted.

But anyway, Irene came back, plonking herself down on the couch again. She didn’t really seem to mind Jasmine taking up most of the room on the couch, which was good. Not that Jasmine taking up most of the room on the couch was a good thing in the first place, don’t get her wrong, but hey, if Irene was okay with her doing this then she supposed it’d be okay to do it. She was probably going to trash the couch doing this (especially since Irene had a drink that could very well easily get spilled on it, hopefully once she drank it all she’d just put it on the side table thingy and not get another carton) so although she was pretty comfortable doing this it wasn’t going to be something she did all the time. Best to take her chances while she had them.

Oh yeah, speaking of that:

“Is it okay if you just quickly get up again to turn the TV slash DVD player on? You’re probably going to have an easier time getting up than me, I’m afraid.” Okay, just clearing it up that wasn’t the original intention of lying down and she didn’t even really think of doing that until now, but considering the chance popped up she may as well take advantage of it.

“But yes, otherwise we watch,” Jasmine wasn’t really sure why Irene phrased things like that. It was probably something to do with the games she played. Not stuff she was really into but whatever, she wasn’t going to judge Irene for it. “Maybe talk a little as well. Considering that I’ve already watched this season you can ask me questions if you wish to.” No spoilers obviously, but hey, if it gave Jasmine the chance to talk gossip with her then she was going to take it while she had it. Three for three, or something like that.
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Spirit of Jazzy guide her. It really was like she was everywhere on this couch at once, holding every position at once like quantum uncertainty. So many positions it was like the Kama Sutra. Damn, okay. Of all the references for her brain to dredge up it immediately had to ascend to the pinnacle of awkward. Irene shifted, shifted again. Like bedtime, it was impossible to feel entirely comfortable no matter where she was. Twist, turn, scream and shout, legs and arms tightly winding themselves together until her limbs were taffy. She just couldn't escape the overbearing fuzzies that being right next to her friendcrush scattered into the breeze like dandelions. Probably wouldn't come off as unusual. Irene was always so restless anyways, it was rare she could sit still for more than a minute at a time in class.

"Mmmph." Irene's ability to respond with witty repertoire only continued to devolve as she cleared her throat of drink:

"Okay fine, if you insist." Really she was glad for the moment off the couch. She hopped up, spring-loaded like a jack-in-the-box, half ran her way to the TV. It took a bit of fiddling. Model was way different from the ones in her own home. It didn't occur to her when she came back that she easily could have taken the floor and let Jazzy have the couch to herself. Wasn't like her to surrender so easily- or wisely- anyways. So she shoved herself back into her spot, awkward fidgeting and all.

"We watch!" Uh, questions. Irene didn't know this was going to be an interview, or she'd have practiced before hand! A palpitation of her ever quailing heart surged something out of her mouth. She forced her response as thus:

"When did you find the time to watch all the new season episodes anyways?" All five of them. Wait. Three. "I thought you were super busy this sem?"
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At her command, Irene got up and did what Jasmine politely asked her to do. Yes, just like how a loyal subject should. Wait, no. She frowned slightly. As she was trying to state before her lackadaisical mind got to her a little bit the queen persona could definitely grow old if she performed under it for too long. That didn’t mean she hated it - quite the opposite, in fact - but she preferred doing it more in small doses than for long periods of time. At least then the joke had been unused for long enough for it to be kinda funny and/or entertaining for her and jesus christ had Irene not seen a TV before? Jasmine stared, looking at her friend with one eye open further than the other. Surely it didn’t take her this long for her to turn the TV on at home, right? Irene was definitely smart but occasionally she had moments in which Jasmine wondered what was going on in there, with what was happening now being used as a prime example.

But eventually, she managed to turn the TV on. A clap and a cheer echoed through the room as soon as Jasmine saw the familiar blue screen of the DVD player. Part legitimate, part mocking. She figured Irene wouldn’t mind, considering the latter had previously given the former far worse. No examples she could think of, but they existed. You’d just have to take her on that.

Irene then said that they’d watch (again) and the watching/question time section had now apparently began. They had currently spent more time on questions than they had watching Sherlock so far but that was fine by Jasmine. Really part of this was so that she could talk to her friend and in the best case scenario get some stuff out of her. Well, in the case of best case scenario that was more something that wasn’t an intent but would be amazing if it happened. The aim of this was for them to chat together while they watched. Nothing more, really, but still, getting gossip would be a side effect of that which she wouldn’t mind.

But regardless, Irene asked her a question. It seemed fit that Jasmine answer her.

“I wasn’t that busy. I could easily spare a couple hours every fortnight to watch the episodes live. Just like how you procrastinate on your homework playing whatever the name of that game is you play.”
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A cannonade of fanfare for Irene successfully conquering the TV. Well more along the lines of a boom clap, and probably an exaggerated one at that. Man, dredging the ironic sentiment out of all of the overly affected gestures got confusing sometimes. But it was Jazzy. She could have thrown a middle finger and honked a vuvuzela and Irene would have still felt thoroughly accomplished. She basked in the glow of her completely mundane success, all the way back to her perch atop couch cushion.

Hold up, Cumberbatch was in the way. New camera angle, there was Freeman. The boy himself.

"The game is League. The game is also something I just lost." Damn, the old brain just kept letting her down. Nothing new though. "And I don't procrastinate on my homework much. I usually get it done in class." Or outright never get it done, but that particular detail of Irene's academic life was something only privy to herself, as her parents unwisely trusted her too much to request a copy of her grades via mail. Hey, she had A's in all the important subjects! STEM life was the only life.

"Yeah, I guess we'll get busier in later years." An inkling occurred to Irene, one that was out of her mouth before she could even at least look Jazzy in the eye for it. She kept her eyes glued to the screen, watching for best character, glazed over like some Krispy Kreme.

"Don't get so busy that we stop seeing each other, yo? I've already lost a few of my friends like that this year." Slightly exaggerated sentiment of course, power of friendship and real friends never died and all those fluffy cliches. But Irene's casual, perpetually distracted tone didn't betray that what she'd just said had been some Grade A emotions. Figured they came out when they were least relevant. Yep, just a moment of not thinking, on top of the many other similar moments prior, and Irene had laid one of the childish weaknesses in her own armor bare. Eh. Probably wasn't too important a thought to dwell on. Even she herself wasn't bothering to pay it due diligence in tone.

Unconsciously Irene sought out a warm shelter, she was suddenly cuddling herself into Jasmine's leg, her stocky frame pushing against the closest thing that reminded her of a blanket.
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League of Legends. Also the silly playground game which you couldn’t actually win but even after being reminded about it it didn’t really even reach the back of her mind. The last two words of the actual answer weren’t actually said, but now that she had gotten reminded of the first word the last two popped up in her mind as an addendum, appearing from memories of Irene talking about the game with other friends. She had even tried talking about it with Jasmine, although it wasn’t really a topic that interested her much. Although she could see why Irene liked it and figured that there might be at least some practical purposes for playing it she did not want to clutter up her time even further with another hobby, especially one that (according to what she’d read) could lead to more self-destructive habits. That, and video games just didn’t really interest her that much in the first place, although that wasn’t something she was going to tell Irene.

“And that’s why I get better grades than you,” Jasmine said, replying to the second half of that statement. Just a little quip. Nothing that Irene would really mind. Maybe she’d find it funny. Jasmine did, if you replaced the word funny with amusing and gratifying. Nothing really too much of those two previous words, but it made Jasmine feel a little smug; probably not the best feeling to have but it felt good, at least for the instant that it came.

They then watched, in silence for a little bit. Little bit meaning “not for long, though,” considering Irene’s next words. Later years. Words that creeped themselves into the back of her mind and growing louder and louder as they moved forwards. In the context of what Irene had said they meant the immediate future, as their senior years loomed upon them. Jasmine, however, was thinking after that. College, a place in the workforce. Truth be told, she hadn’t really thought that far yet. She had no doubt that she was going to get through the senior years with flying colours (according to what Julian said, nothing really changed much throughout high school, aside from exams and stuff, and although Julian was wrong about a lot of things he was usually correct on experiences, at the very least; only thing he was good for, really), but after that she had no idea what she was going to do. Well, she was going to to college, duh, but any words in front of her about what courses she’d take just turned into clouds and floated away.

Irene did ask a question that reaffirmed at least one part of what her future was going to be like, though. Well no, it wasn’t even a question. Just a dumb thing Irene said that was presented with a question mark at the end.

“Don’t worry,” Jasmine replied, almost leaning herself onto Irene but instead just placing her arm just around where her stomach was. Gesture? That seemed like the right word. Not really comfortable at all but given that Irene was hugging her leg it was obligation that she do a gesture of her own.

“I’m sure that even if our years become difficult I’ll still try to keep in touch with you.”

A small pause. A sentence while not half empty still wasn’t quite full, yet. A statement that Jasmine chose to add on the end of her sentence to fix that mistake.

“I promise.”

A truth.
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"And that's why I get better grades than you."

Oof. Irene was wounded. Made salty enough that she'd also suffer acute salt in the wounds. Comments like that were what the Supa Hot video meme was made for. Call her chestnuts on an open fire, because damn she was getting roasted. Other self-deprecating statements, etc.

"Heeeey, not fair." A brief moment of silence for the dead, or more likely so she could catch a bit of quiet dialogue coming out the speakers. "True you get better grades but... Uh, I'm not smart enough to come up with a comeback." Some of the most excellent banter ever witnessed by their young and nubile generation. Irene was going down in the history books for that one, probably. She'd be chilling pinkie out right in the margins where she'd doodled her name over and over again in fancy Tumblr RP level font during one of her more boring(er) classes that year. More loops per letter than a roller coaster, Djezari aesthetic, that.

A few more moments of silence passed, suffused by the non silence of cute-slash-hot British dudes.

And then Irene said the thing, and Jazzy said the things back. Words, syllables exchanged. Melodramatic pauses and ellipses to likely negligible effect.

Why was there suddenly an arm around her stomach? Felt awkwardly good. Goodly awkward. Jazzy's skin melted into the spots where it touched. Passing resemblance to flesh eating virus. Irene was endlessly fascinated with the sensation, as she had once been with the postmortem pictures of those who suffered with necrotic fusilli or whatever it was called. Irene trembled a bit, the fluttering of storm earth and fire that rippled through Jazzy's touch. Nelly sounded the clarion call, 'getting hot in here'. Man. This was what the protagonists of dime-a-dozen paperback romance novels were tossed through. Not like Irene read works of that literary definition. Often.

"Same. Couldn't get rid of me if you tried, Jazzy." Ominous? Irene entertained the vivid imaginings of herself chasing after Jasmine King angrily, or possibly lustily. Something something 'EAT MY DUST'. Stupid conceptualization in general, she dropped that train of thought but probably not fast enough. "I'll be here for as long as I can be, and longer. You can count on it. To quote my ninja way, 'believe it'." Irene's own way of making a promise. Her own truth. However long she could make it last, given her debilitated racehorse track record for maintaining promises to that date. She wriggled awkwardly a bit more, suddenly not entirely comfortable where she was. As much as she liked it she didn't like it and she was seeing in her mind's eye all sorts of unbidden things that draped fuchsia over the cheeks.

She strove to liberate herself with some struggle, slowly doing the worm in place until she had a section of couch to herself. The action on screen lulled.

"So how about you?" The usual awkward segue, the doctor's defibrillator on the heart of conversation complete with harsh and dramatic camera angle. Just like the one on screen right now! "What's the latest up with you? Besides apparently grinding me into the dust in terms of our ABCs."
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A toothy smile came up on Jasmine’s face as Irene failed to come up with a comeback. It was fake, but she was fairly sure that Irene both knew and didn’t mind it. It was a thing she did, and she hadn’t ever complained about it to her knowledge, so she imagined that it would be okay to do. If Irene ever told her to stop doing it, though, she’d make an active effort to not do it. Well, around her, anyway. She wasn’t really sure if she could hold it around people she thought lesser of but Irene was her closest friend; she’d change minor parts even if only for her. She mattered that much. First proper friend, as explained earlier. They had been friends since the start of middle school and even if Jasmine had to fight for it she wanted to make sure they stayed that way. At least until the end of high school.

Not that she’d have to fight for it, though, given that Irene had returned the promise. Not quite the way that Jasmine would have done it, but if you asked both a question you’d likely get the same answer two different ways. There was just a certain… way that made Irene so different and yet so familiar to her. Anyone else saying that the way Irene did likely would have irked her, but the way it just came out of her mouth made Jasmine forgive her, in a way. She knew that she was getting kinda sentimental about this and that if she was saying it out loud or otherwise sharing it to another person they would mock her for it but… she didn’t really know. She liked it that Irene had returned her promise and she liked the way Irene said it and honestly she liked thinking about this and feeling sentimental about all of this. She was happy that Irene had agreed to come to her house, and although the day was not yet over she knew that it was already fantastic, just from this.

She turned her head so that it rested on her own shoulder, moving her right arm to adjust it so since Irene was wriggling around on the couch so much.

“Thanks, Rene.” A smile, more real this time.

Silence (except for the people on the TV) reigned for a few moments, with Jasmine having moved her arm back to herself at this point given Irene’s moving around. It soon broke, with Irene asking her how she was going. Jasmine blinked. Had neither of them asked that question during the time Irene was here? She was pretty sure she had said it upstairs somewhere but if Irene was asking her this at this point it would probably be for the first time.

It was kind of a silly question to ask at this point, but admittedly there was a way that she could make it slightly useful. She felt slightly uncomfortable saying this to Irene but she knew that it was going to be okay. She had done it before and Irene didn’t seem to really mind.

“I’m doing fairly well. for the most part. There is something that’s bothering me slightly, though.”

What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, after all.

“That girl who seems to be hanging around our group nowadays. Mary, I think her name is. Do you know why she’s suddenly eating lunch with us?”
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Irene got the sense that she might have asked that question? The words had already been spilling out of her mouth in a spittle potpourri. Only then, after the fact, did she feel fit to appraise the worth of the expended effort. The calories burned to flap her lips, one syllable at a time. She remembered back to events that didn't really matter and were already forgotten. Wait, fuck, that meant she couldn't remember them if they were already forgotten. Oh well. Best to assume the extremely generic conversational point was fresh territory to explore. Yeah, for sure.

And Jazzy had answered. Obviously that meant the question made perfect sense and was scientific genius, etc.

"Hm?" Something bothering Jasmine? Come to think of it there was probably always something bothering her. She was just that kind of girl.

Oh. Okay.

"Well..." And here the 'weh' of well surged up and down a full octave: "If you want to get technical about it Mary was there before you, she was just busy with Doctors Without Borders first sem." Ah, the other BFF. Best Furry Friend. Wait no, that one was an in-joke (in theory solely hypothetical) that didn't apply to Jazzy. Yet.

Hypothetical.

"Mary's one of my friends from middle school and she has the same lunch period as us. So she hangs around. If all the talking about webcomics is a drag sorry. We can save it for Tumblr, or try to I guess." Mary was another one of the 'senpai notice mes', and unlike Jazzy Irene felt safe cuddling into Mary's girth. Up and drowning in it, pretty much. Theirs was a happy and storied friendship. But on the other hand, Jazzy was hot. And pretty cool herself. Was this what being in a romcom was like? Irene didn't want to die of cardiac arrhythmias at a young age! She was already as far enough from Jasmine as was humanly possible on this little couch but she still felt too close, like Jasmine's body heat was suffusing into a thick and damp haze around Irene's skin.
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Jasmine’s smile fell, slightly. Slowly, of course. She wasn’t surprised, just very very disappointed.

“So that’s why?”

She asked inquisitively, hiding the disappointment from her voice. Considering her sudden arrival in the group and how she near immediately started latching onto Irene Jasmine honestly thought that there’d be more to it than that. A better reason of some kind was what she was thinking of. Hoping for, in a way. It was a topic that had been on her mind for the past couple days or weeks or so and to see it be something so actually minor just made the balloon of Jasmine’s interest slowly deflate in her head. Because really, there was so much it could have been. Dirty stuff from another group, for one. Lesbian lovers, for two. It was definitely an odd topic for Jasmine to think about especially since Irene was one of her closest friends but she had to admit that there were a lot of the signs of some sort of relationship. Clingyness. Physical contact. Normally things that she saw within the more regular relationships at Cochise but she didn’t really see how it couldn’t equate otherwise.

Really though, as much as she wanted to justify it she couldn’t. It wasn’t actually a thing, to her disappointment.

That was, of course, unless Irene wasn’t telling the truth. She was in the Drama Club, just as Jasmine was. As clueless as she could be (bless her heart), she did have the capability to pull off a little lie.

So, further questioning was needed.

“Wait, did you say from middle school?” The part about the webcomics was gone but not forgotten inside Jasmine’s mind. It was too late at this point to say that she didn’t really mind (although maybe some of the other members did, who knew) but maybe she could drop it somewhere later.

“Because we were side to side every lunchtime back then and I don’t remember you ever bringing her around.”
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Like. Too bad the answer wasn't, 'oh we're lesbian lovers'. Would have made a good story. Especially for the girls involved in the happily gay and supremely redundantly described coupling. Imagine, like. All the likes on the Facebook relationship update.

Give that at least two thumbs up. Like this episode of 'Martin Freeman: the serial', a pair of fingernails to the sky. Background noise it was, but most things were background noise when Irene's brain was involved.

"What if I told you I hang out with other girls besides you from time to time?" It was an honest question, posed with the most crystal clear of tones, bottled and sold by Coca-Cola Corp. Irene didn't intentionally mean to come off as sarcastic, that would imply she even had the inherent capacity to ever do so. Irene began to slowly slough off the couch. Kinda just melted, bit by itty bitty Irene bit, onto the floor. Right underneath Jazzy's nose, where she probably rightly belonged. It was just easier, kinda. She could have just done this immediately. But hey, why not awkwardly fidget in place for at least a few minutes? Before evacuating the dance floor with her shameful two left feets.

"So yeah, middle school. Normally Maria and I hung out after school and played vidya after class. I am pretty sure-" hence probably wrong- "that we never really did afterschool stuff together until... mid eighth grade? Whenever the time was that Mrs. Anders blew a mega epic gasket at me for texting in class, I think those happened around the same time." Huh. Weird that Irene remembered the events that happened so often to her as to be background noise. And unlike Sherlock she didn't even like that particular static effusion of academic authority.

"Ya get me? I'm pretty sure I got the timeline right, like you can quote me with my hand on a bible for this one. I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Wait fuck. She'd mixed the references. Harry Potter and the Inauguration Day was probably not a thing. Probably. Last Irene had checked.
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