WHO: Lyra, Avery and Armaan WHEN: Sunday afternoon, Jan 23rd WHERE: Avery and Armaan's place WHAT: Oh wait this ISN'T just our apartment, that's right! WARNINGS: TBA but doubt it
Lyra’s January, so far, had been pretty fantastic. Not without its hiccups, but damn, they were well overshadowed.
On the work front, the call for clean windows wasn’t strong yet while the weather remained bullshit, which freed up a little more time to get really stuck into the pews with Will Stutely, and she’d almost been late for her Taco Bell shifts a couple of times (five times) because it was hard to drag herself away from his workshop. The way Will made stuff, he made it to last, and in working with him she was tapping into that great human continuum, making things for people that would be around long after you were gone. Window washing, no matter how much you got to abseil down heights that would make other people chuck, was actually seriously unfulfilling, and the more time she spent putting together furniture with Will the more she loved it and the more frustrating leaving for other jobs became.
Though… the idea that her dad could sit on these pews long after she was dead was a fucker of a thought— she had to pull the plug on that one right away. Nope nope nope. Instead, Lyra eyed up the rest of the work Will had lined up to do, and wondered if there would be enough, soon, to be able to drop one of her other jobs entirely…
She wanted to prove herself a bit more in the workshop before she asked about it though, cuz if she asked too early and he accepted it’d feel too much like a favour to her dad, and she wanted to shine on her own account. It was something to hope for, anyway. And she still did want a building job… but she hadn’t applied for one since getting back to New York. Not cuz she’d given up or anything! It was just… usually she hunted and applied at night, and most of her nights were spent with Avery.
Oh god, Avery. There was nothing like the hit of excitement she got when she saw him, the rush of joy when he grinned at her. And waking up with him and going to sleep with him and aaall the things in between. They were probably ordering takeaways way too often but who could be bothered cooking when you could be spending that time in bed?
It wasn’t like she was there all the time. But while Armaan was away with his family it was like the place was theirs and she really, really liked that vibe. Like their time in Vegas but not ostentatious. Like their time in Tennessee but they didn’t have to fight his family for a moment alone. Better than both of those places, even though the heating was terrible and the walls to the neighbors were thin, cuz it wasn’t temporary. And so what if it was cold, so was her place, and it was always warm in his bed.
She still spent some nights at home, where things were settling into a tense kinda normal. She could be stubborn, but not so stubborn that she was just gonna up and leave and force Jocelyn to apologise before she spoke to her again. No, after she’d given her grandma a couple of nights to sleep on it (two really good nights Lyra had spent at Avery’s) she’d gone back, with a peace offering of two very heavy armfuls of groceries and helped make dinner.
“I’m glad you came home,” Jocelyn had said to her after they’d eaten, picking up a tea towel that was worn thin with a thousand washes. “I didn’t mean to sound like I wanted you gone. If you need to leave, you’ll always have a place here, whatever happens, you know that, don’t you?” The look she gave Lyra was full of meaning, and Lyra got that when she said ‘whatever happens’ she meant ‘when this crashes and burns.’ That’d annoyed her. Like, a lot. If Jocelyn could know what it felt like when she was with Avery— but Lyra held her tongue (just like she was holding her tongue with the question do you really think I’m stupid) and told herself that the best way to convince Jocelyn it wasn’t gonna crash and burn (and that she wasn’t stupid) was by not letting it crash and burn, thereby proving it wasn’t a stupid decision at all.
And if you need to leave?
Yeah, Lyra knew. Jocelyn had left Tarone, ending their marriage. Tarone moved to Florida as soon as, leaving Jem behind. In Mexico, Jem had left Lyra. Later, Jem had fallen in love with and then left Dante. This family – Lyra thought with a stubborn (slightly bitter) not me though – left each other far too easily.
But she’d stuck with an “I know” and an “I love you too,” and felt a little guilty at how relieved Jocelyn looked to hear it. And then a whole lot more guilty when she realised – yeah, course Jocelyn was thinking the exact same thing – this family leaves each other far too easily.
Course that had been going through Jocelyn’s mind when Lyra didn’t come home, wondering if history was repeating itself, if Lyra was doing the exact goddamn same thing as Jem when she stayed in Mexico all those years, only coming home cuz she was pregnant with Jemma and needed help. She’d hugged Jocelyn properly then, tight as anything, and Jocelyn hugged back, and something between them settled, finding a space to get comfy in the room round the elephant.
Her mom, on the other hand, seemed confused about why she wasn’t with Avery all the time. Especially this week – Lyra had spent the last few nights sleeping at home. After the third time Jem asked if everything was okay and did she need to talk and reminding Lyra she could always talk to her and how she bet her dad would be a great listener, why didn’t she go and talk to her dad, Lyra had snapped: “Nothing’s wrong, mom, maybe I just missed Jemma? Jeez!” And stomped off to her room.
She felt a bit crap using Jemma like that, when the real reason was just that she had her period and didn’t want to have to deal with cramps and blood and snappiness over at Avery’s. And she knew she could get a little needy when she was feeling crappy and she didn’t wanna dump that on him a matter of weeks after marrying her. Like… he’d see her like that eventually, she knew that, but just, uh, maybe next month?
She’d rather just be fun-Lyra, round him, anyway. They deserved some fun, after his family. Which was why she was bringing over everything they needed to make jelly shots, because who said they couldn’t appropriate frat culture for their own means?
“Heeey!” she called, pushing through the door he’d left open for her. She dumped her backpack near the door, and her shoes, and hauled the shopping bag onto the table. “I have things for you! Three things. Fair warning, all of them are pretty selfish,” she added, with a wide grin as soon as she saw his face.