No earlier post? What?
So I'm feeling under the weather this week, and every other piece of technology in this house seems to hate me except for my laptop, so it seems I will (be forced to :P) be doing some writing. But I looked back at what I intended to work on first and just, ugh, idek what to do, so I think it's about time I do some work on Tristan's 25th birthday present.
(And yes, he IS turning 26 in about 2 & a half months. xD Suckity suck suck, but I hope it'll be done by then! And perhaps complex enough to count for two years?! Idk, no ideas for this year, really.)
But yeah. So since I'm working, thought I'd check here for previous entries, but I didn't see any... what? Slackinggg.
Am I missing something? Am I re-posting without realizing it? Whatever. Here we go. :]
Tristan got up early to make breakfast one morning in August. It wasn’t that he didn’t make breakfast every day, but he took extra care to make it taste good today. It felt like a good day to do so.
When Kaitlynn stumbled out of his bedroom, mussed and disoriented from her long sleep, it was forty-five minutes well worth his time. The meal looked (and tasted, he’d discovered from snacking) excellent. Tristan was just gathering the silverware and napkins in order to place the finishing touches on the display, which consisted of waffles and yogurt piled high with freshly cut fruit. Even the maple syrup was still warm when he sat down, which pleased Tristan immensely.
The young woman paused in the kitchen archway to take in the scene. About it, she said, “Your pillow was cold. How long have you been up, Tristan?”
It made him frown. Tristan poured the brunette a tall glass of orange juice to entice her over to the table, and it worked. Trying to flatten her unruly hair to her skull (and failing), she plopped down in the seat opposite his.
“A little while,” Tristan said vaguely. Kaitlynn had always, always gawked at him when he told her the time he truly woke some days, so he’d stopped telling her. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” Kaitlynn replied, admiring the spread once again. Tristan hadn’t been sure it was something she’d like, the food he’d made, but the response seemed positive so far. Tristan was satisfied, and she continued to boost his ego when she said, “It looks delicious.”
She dug in, and Tristan watched her periodically under the guise of reading (was he squinting?) at the clock just above her head. Meanwhile, Tristan picked at his food, hardly a huge eater in the morning hours. He mused, and realized his front was feeble, it being Saturday and them having nowhere to be, but he continued the pattern. His pondering of what was to come was becoming more and more disconcerting to him as the days grew shorter until… Tristan looked up again, dismissing his previous thought as he chewed methodically on waffle and out-of-season blackberries, to find Kaitlynn looking back at him. She set down her fork.
“What is it?” demanded the brunette, who had undoubtedly caught onto his fretting. Tristan lowered his gaze to his plate, clearly caught, and washed down his mouthful with a swallow of tea. After an exaggerated moment, he peeked again, hoping to find she’d returned to her meal and forgotten his odd behavior. However, he saw her arms folded across her chest, and knew her to be thoroughly distracted.
“You never tell me anything! What? - is there something on my face?” Her sarcasm was only proof she was truly irritated, Tristan reasoned with frustration. He always did this! He wondered in the back of his mind if he could somehow diffuse the situation before she could jump to conclusions, but then she looked genuinely alarmed about something, and Tristan tensed.
“Dear God,” she cried, slapping a hand across her face. Her next words were muffled, but clear enough for Tristan: “I didn’t drool last night, did I?!”
Tristan laughed, unable to help himself, while Kaitlynn pouted. She slowly removed her hand when Tristan waved it away. He captured it in his own. “No, it’s not that. But… you know what’s in a couple weeks?”
“Um,” Kaitlynn said with pause, obviously thinking it over. Tristan imagined she was counting on her fingers under the table.
“My birthday?” Tristan supplied after a moment of hesitation.
“Yeah!” Kaitlynn’s face pinkened at that, as if unsure why she’d had to count days for that answer. “I knew that. What’s the matter?-worried I don’t have a spectacular gift in line for you? Because I do!”
She’d taken up her fork again and released her other hand. He was relieved. Crisis averted, it seemed. He vowed to better his communication skills yet again. It was an area he’d lacked in since day one. “No, I’m sure you do. You always do. Just-” Tristan sighed, leaning heavily on his elbows. “I’m turning twenty-five.”
“I don’t-get it… Tristan.”
The man took another swig of his tea, and placed the cup back down rather carelessly. Some liquid splashed over the side and onto the tabletop, but he couldn’t be bothered with it now. He was tentative, worrying his thumbnail for a moment, and then asked, “Don’t you think I’m getting old?”
“What?” Kaitlynn crowed incredulously.
“I’m serious!” Tristan insisted, possibly a little louder than necessary. “Think about it, Kaitlynn. Dominic was only twenty-eight when he…”
“Hey,” Kaitlynn said before he could finish his statement, effectively cutting him off.
Tristan frowned, thought better of the words on the tip of his tongue, and took another bite. She was right, after all; now was not the time to bring up painful memories. With those thoughts in his brain, he pushed away his plate.
Kaitlynn exhaled shortly, pushing her own plate away, as if his aversion had transferred to her as well. She tented her fingers under her chin and watched him for a moment, frowning. Her brow furrowed as she said, “Look, why is this bothering you so much?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Tristan exclaimed, getting up with dishes in hand, as he went to the sink. His back was to her as he continued. “It’s ridiculous, I guess, to think about, but one day-how am I supposed to protect you if…?”
Kaitlynn sat back in her chair, folding her arms in her lap. “I’m not your obligation, Tristan.”
The brunet turned off the water and just looked at her. Kaitlynn didn’t look away, so he sighed and returned to the dishes. Behind him, he heard Kaitlynn get up and go to the living room. She flopped down on the sofa there and flicked on the television. A game show where someone was apparently winning big was on.
There was a lot of yelling and cheering. Kaitlynn turned down the volume by a couple decibels when the crowd erupted in applause once more, and Tristan heard her frustrated sigh over the noise, though he was sure she hadn’t intended for him to.
Tristan drained the dishwater from the sink, dried his hands, and sighed himself. Was he really so paranoid?
Short little bit, but that's all there was from before I started working this evening, and I wouldn't call tonight's work post-worthy yet, tbh.
I'll post again when there's more! Hopefully it will be a substantial amount, and soon, but no promises have been made. :P
(And yes, he IS turning 26 in about 2 & a half months. xD Suckity suck suck, but I hope it'll be done by then! And perhaps complex enough to count for two years?! Idk, no ideas for this year, really.)
But yeah. So since I'm working, thought I'd check here for previous entries, but I didn't see any... what? Slackinggg.
Am I missing something? Am I re-posting without realizing it? Whatever. Here we go. :]
Tristan got up early to make breakfast one morning in August. It wasn’t that he didn’t make breakfast every day, but he took extra care to make it taste good today. It felt like a good day to do so.
When Kaitlynn stumbled out of his bedroom, mussed and disoriented from her long sleep, it was forty-five minutes well worth his time. The meal looked (and tasted, he’d discovered from snacking) excellent. Tristan was just gathering the silverware and napkins in order to place the finishing touches on the display, which consisted of waffles and yogurt piled high with freshly cut fruit. Even the maple syrup was still warm when he sat down, which pleased Tristan immensely.
The young woman paused in the kitchen archway to take in the scene. About it, she said, “Your pillow was cold. How long have you been up, Tristan?”
It made him frown. Tristan poured the brunette a tall glass of orange juice to entice her over to the table, and it worked. Trying to flatten her unruly hair to her skull (and failing), she plopped down in the seat opposite his.
“A little while,” Tristan said vaguely. Kaitlynn had always, always gawked at him when he told her the time he truly woke some days, so he’d stopped telling her. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” Kaitlynn replied, admiring the spread once again. Tristan hadn’t been sure it was something she’d like, the food he’d made, but the response seemed positive so far. Tristan was satisfied, and she continued to boost his ego when she said, “It looks delicious.”
She dug in, and Tristan watched her periodically under the guise of reading (was he squinting?) at the clock just above her head. Meanwhile, Tristan picked at his food, hardly a huge eater in the morning hours. He mused, and realized his front was feeble, it being Saturday and them having nowhere to be, but he continued the pattern. His pondering of what was to come was becoming more and more disconcerting to him as the days grew shorter until… Tristan looked up again, dismissing his previous thought as he chewed methodically on waffle and out-of-season blackberries, to find Kaitlynn looking back at him. She set down her fork.
“What is it?” demanded the brunette, who had undoubtedly caught onto his fretting. Tristan lowered his gaze to his plate, clearly caught, and washed down his mouthful with a swallow of tea. After an exaggerated moment, he peeked again, hoping to find she’d returned to her meal and forgotten his odd behavior. However, he saw her arms folded across her chest, and knew her to be thoroughly distracted.
“You never tell me anything! What? - is there something on my face?” Her sarcasm was only proof she was truly irritated, Tristan reasoned with frustration. He always did this! He wondered in the back of his mind if he could somehow diffuse the situation before she could jump to conclusions, but then she looked genuinely alarmed about something, and Tristan tensed.
“Dear God,” she cried, slapping a hand across her face. Her next words were muffled, but clear enough for Tristan: “I didn’t drool last night, did I?!”
Tristan laughed, unable to help himself, while Kaitlynn pouted. She slowly removed her hand when Tristan waved it away. He captured it in his own. “No, it’s not that. But… you know what’s in a couple weeks?”
“Um,” Kaitlynn said with pause, obviously thinking it over. Tristan imagined she was counting on her fingers under the table.
“My birthday?” Tristan supplied after a moment of hesitation.
“Yeah!” Kaitlynn’s face pinkened at that, as if unsure why she’d had to count days for that answer. “I knew that. What’s the matter?-worried I don’t have a spectacular gift in line for you? Because I do!”
She’d taken up her fork again and released her other hand. He was relieved. Crisis averted, it seemed. He vowed to better his communication skills yet again. It was an area he’d lacked in since day one. “No, I’m sure you do. You always do. Just-” Tristan sighed, leaning heavily on his elbows. “I’m turning twenty-five.”
“I don’t-get it… Tristan.”
The man took another swig of his tea, and placed the cup back down rather carelessly. Some liquid splashed over the side and onto the tabletop, but he couldn’t be bothered with it now. He was tentative, worrying his thumbnail for a moment, and then asked, “Don’t you think I’m getting old?”
“What?” Kaitlynn crowed incredulously.
“I’m serious!” Tristan insisted, possibly a little louder than necessary. “Think about it, Kaitlynn. Dominic was only twenty-eight when he…”
“Hey,” Kaitlynn said before he could finish his statement, effectively cutting him off.
Tristan frowned, thought better of the words on the tip of his tongue, and took another bite. She was right, after all; now was not the time to bring up painful memories. With those thoughts in his brain, he pushed away his plate.
Kaitlynn exhaled shortly, pushing her own plate away, as if his aversion had transferred to her as well. She tented her fingers under her chin and watched him for a moment, frowning. Her brow furrowed as she said, “Look, why is this bothering you so much?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Tristan exclaimed, getting up with dishes in hand, as he went to the sink. His back was to her as he continued. “It’s ridiculous, I guess, to think about, but one day-how am I supposed to protect you if…?”
Kaitlynn sat back in her chair, folding her arms in her lap. “I’m not your obligation, Tristan.”
The brunet turned off the water and just looked at her. Kaitlynn didn’t look away, so he sighed and returned to the dishes. Behind him, he heard Kaitlynn get up and go to the living room. She flopped down on the sofa there and flicked on the television. A game show where someone was apparently winning big was on.
There was a lot of yelling and cheering. Kaitlynn turned down the volume by a couple decibels when the crowd erupted in applause once more, and Tristan heard her frustrated sigh over the noise, though he was sure she hadn’t intended for him to.
Tristan drained the dishwater from the sink, dried his hands, and sighed himself. Was he really so paranoid?
Short little bit, but that's all there was from before I started working this evening, and I wouldn't call tonight's work post-worthy yet, tbh.
I'll post again when there's more! Hopefully it will be a substantial amount, and soon, but no promises have been made. :P