the stage is set. [1/?]
TITLE: The Stage Is Set. [1/?]
AUTHOR: therecordskipsx
RATING: NC-17 overall; PG this part.
POV: Third-ish.
PAIRING: I can’t tell you yet; it’s complicated!
SUMMARY: AU. He met her on a Tuesday. Just an ordinary Tuesday, like any other day of the week, really, except that it wasn’t at all.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own or know them, and I am 200% certain this never happened.
WARNINGS: Het, and it’s central to the plot, but it’s not permanent. I promise!
A/N: Under the cut, kids! It’s vital.
The only thing I’m going to say is that I’m fairly certain nothing like this has ever been written before, and I’m asking everyone to please give it a chance, and not write it off because it’s ‘weird’. It’s more than likely that the actual plot won’t be quite apparent to you yet, unless you’re one of the people I’ve already run it by, and I would like it to stay that way. However, if you’re observant, you’ll probably get it right away - please don’t go, I GET IT, THIS IS IT EVERYONE! It probably won’t come as much of a shock once it’s actually revealed, but despite that, I don’t want it to be all over the place.
Also, yes, this part is really short - it’s only the prologue, so just wait a bit, it’ll get longer, I’m quite sure. *resists urge to make a bad joke about being the narrator*
So yes, on with it!
/////
He met her on a Tuesday. Just an ordinary Tuesday, like any other day of the week, really, except that it wasn’t at all.
He walks into his usual coffee shop, and it’s like she’s always been there and doesn’t even belong on this earth, all at the same time. She’s just sitting there, drinking coffee and reading a book as if this were her normal morning routine. It can’t be - he’s sure, in that moment, that he would have noticed her before.
She’s pretty, but it isn’t only that, just the brown hair falling in her eyes and the rounded slope of her breasts, just the softness of her face, that keeps him glancing over his shoulder while he waits in line. There was always something, something shifting and shivering about her, like she was loose inside her skin or made of layers of draped and perfectly painted silk, he thinks later, something ethereal and alien.
He took his coffee, he steeled his nerves, and he moved towards her, bag slung low over his shoulder, and stood beside her table.
“Mind if I sit here?” and she looks up, smiles, shakes her head, and he’s transfixed by the flecks of gold in her eyes, the way her hair is dyed to match.
“Not at all,” she says, and she has a voice like velvet, like 50’s movie star elegance, that kind of voice; low and a little rough against his skin.
“I’m Brendon,” he says, and she extends one long, graceful hand.
“Rachel,” she returns, and he looks at the notebook on the table, ‘Ross, R.’ in looping script, and laughs.
“Like Friends,” he says, and she laughs, leans forward to look into his face.
“Exactly,” she says, and from that moment on, he’s madly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
----------
She gives him her number on the back of a napkin, written in brown-black eyeliner, and he promises to call, and this is one time he really, really means it. This is one time where he won’t have to make excuses when he sees her in six months, “I’m really sorry, but some shit came up, and I just didn’t have time,” or, “I moved house, and I lost the number! I’m so sorry.”
Jon phones him, asks him if he’s still on for Friday, and he says yeah, he is, but can he maybe bring this girl? And Jon just laughs, and Brendon says, no, really, could he? She’s gorgeous, really gorgeous, and tall and smart and funny, and her name is Rachel Ross - “Like Friends,” Jon says into the phone, and Brendon grins.
“Exactly.”
----------
He calls her in the morning, wiping his palms on his jeans, because does he seem annoying, or clingy, calling her so soon? She laughs into the phone, and says he could have just waited until they both went for coffee, but the way she says it, he doesn’t think she really minds.
“I just wanted to make sure,” he says, and, “Have you ever been there before yesterday? I’ve never seen you.”
She goes quiet for so long his heart starts to pound, he starts to think the line has gone dead or she’s hung up and oh, god, but then she says she has, he probably just didn’t notice her, and she’ll see him later, bye, and hangs up before he can get a word out.
He wonders, getting dressed, how he could have possibly missed her.
AUTHOR: therecordskipsx
RATING: NC-17 overall; PG this part.
POV: Third-ish.
PAIRING: I can’t tell you yet; it’s complicated!
SUMMARY: AU. He met her on a Tuesday. Just an ordinary Tuesday, like any other day of the week, really, except that it wasn’t at all.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own or know them, and I am 200% certain this never happened.
WARNINGS: Het, and it’s central to the plot, but it’s not permanent. I promise!
A/N: Under the cut, kids! It’s vital.
The only thing I’m going to say is that I’m fairly certain nothing like this has ever been written before, and I’m asking everyone to please give it a chance, and not write it off because it’s ‘weird’. It’s more than likely that the actual plot won’t be quite apparent to you yet, unless you’re one of the people I’ve already run it by, and I would like it to stay that way. However, if you’re observant, you’ll probably get it right away - please don’t go, I GET IT, THIS IS IT EVERYONE! It probably won’t come as much of a shock once it’s actually revealed, but despite that, I don’t want it to be all over the place.
Also, yes, this part is really short - it’s only the prologue, so just wait a bit, it’ll get longer, I’m quite sure. *resists urge to make a bad joke about being the narrator*
So yes, on with it!
/////
He met her on a Tuesday. Just an ordinary Tuesday, like any other day of the week, really, except that it wasn’t at all.
He walks into his usual coffee shop, and it’s like she’s always been there and doesn’t even belong on this earth, all at the same time. She’s just sitting there, drinking coffee and reading a book as if this were her normal morning routine. It can’t be - he’s sure, in that moment, that he would have noticed her before.
She’s pretty, but it isn’t only that, just the brown hair falling in her eyes and the rounded slope of her breasts, just the softness of her face, that keeps him glancing over his shoulder while he waits in line. There was always something, something shifting and shivering about her, like she was loose inside her skin or made of layers of draped and perfectly painted silk, he thinks later, something ethereal and alien.
He took his coffee, he steeled his nerves, and he moved towards her, bag slung low over his shoulder, and stood beside her table.
“Mind if I sit here?” and she looks up, smiles, shakes her head, and he’s transfixed by the flecks of gold in her eyes, the way her hair is dyed to match.
“Not at all,” she says, and she has a voice like velvet, like 50’s movie star elegance, that kind of voice; low and a little rough against his skin.
“I’m Brendon,” he says, and she extends one long, graceful hand.
“Rachel,” she returns, and he looks at the notebook on the table, ‘Ross, R.’ in looping script, and laughs.
“Like Friends,” he says, and she laughs, leans forward to look into his face.
“Exactly,” she says, and from that moment on, he’s madly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
----------
She gives him her number on the back of a napkin, written in brown-black eyeliner, and he promises to call, and this is one time he really, really means it. This is one time where he won’t have to make excuses when he sees her in six months, “I’m really sorry, but some shit came up, and I just didn’t have time,” or, “I moved house, and I lost the number! I’m so sorry.”
Jon phones him, asks him if he’s still on for Friday, and he says yeah, he is, but can he maybe bring this girl? And Jon just laughs, and Brendon says, no, really, could he? She’s gorgeous, really gorgeous, and tall and smart and funny, and her name is Rachel Ross - “Like Friends,” Jon says into the phone, and Brendon grins.
“Exactly.”
----------
He calls her in the morning, wiping his palms on his jeans, because does he seem annoying, or clingy, calling her so soon? She laughs into the phone, and says he could have just waited until they both went for coffee, but the way she says it, he doesn’t think she really minds.
“I just wanted to make sure,” he says, and, “Have you ever been there before yesterday? I’ve never seen you.”
She goes quiet for so long his heart starts to pound, he starts to think the line has gone dead or she’s hung up and oh, god, but then she says she has, he probably just didn’t notice her, and she’ll see him later, bye, and hangs up before he can get a word out.
He wonders, getting dressed, how he could have possibly missed her.