The deep, dark depths of the past... anything taking place before the 2023-2024 academic year should be placed here, and even threads from the earlier part of the year may go here if you so choose. Please note that characters may be in one Memory thread and one normal thread at a time, and that one-shots (or non-interactive multi-shots) are always acceptable in Memories.
Paul sauntered into the Starbucks, moving with a slight sway as if he was perennially listening to music, though his large over-ear headphones hung around his neck like a collar.
He leaned over the counter a little too far and ordered a black coffee, feigning not knowing the Starbucks branded names for small, medium, large.
"Grande, then" he said once the options were explained by the barista. "I'm always happy to talk about cup sizes," Paul grinned.
He walked over to a table nearest to the bathroom with the coffee and draped his Max Mara Teddy Bear Icon coat over a chair. The warm brown coat had a comforting look about it, as if the thing was made of dimpled teddy bear fur as per the name. Under that, he wore silver pants (so you can see yourself in them, he would sometimes joke, but not right now), boots, and a stylized Black Veil Brides shirt. Paul's blond hair was pulled into a high pony with wisps framing his face.
He slung a duffle bag over onto a chair across from him and took out a pad of Post-Its and a pen.
The table was hidden away near the back. He peeled off three Post-Its, took the cap off the pen with his teeth, and wrote one word on each. He slapped each yellow square onto one of the two bathroom doors, pen cap still in his mouth.
The cup that Ren ordered when they arrived at the Starbucks five minutes behind Paul ended up being a tall iced chai latte (easy on the ice please). They didn't need the caffeine, didn't even like coffee all that much, but given that Paul's plan involved taking one of the store's bathrooms out of commission for somewhere between half an hour and twice that, it seemed only polite. Ren gave the seating area a once-over, and then a twice-over, just to ascertain that there were plenty of empty tables. Confirmed: their little rendezvous with Paul would be only minimally inconvenient for customers and staff alike. Conscience assuaged! When the drink came out, they found a table in the middle of the cafe--neither too close nor too far from Paul's--on which to put it down. No need to make this look any more like a tryst than it already did.
Then they sat down, took a perfunctory sip, and took out their phone. Scrolled, took another perfunctory sip. And another. Then they put their phone in their pocket, stood up, and headed to the bathroom, oversized shopping bag in tow.
There he was, in reflective pants that strained the eye and a shirt that boded vaguely ill. The fit was hardly compatible with the incredibly nondescript gym shorts and grey T-shirt that Ren was wearing, but that was the point after all. They padded toward Paul until they could see the words written on the Post-It notes he was pressing to the door. "OUT OF ORDER," they read.
Ren felt a faint thrill at that, and smiled. Of course Paul's plan had been needlessly risky, but wasn't it his role to teach them to live a little more dangerously? No need to gush over such a little thing, but they were grateful.
So they cleared their throat and, pitching their voice well above their ordinary range, said, "Excuse me sir, but can you please tell me what you--what you're doing to the--"
Their voice broke down, and they dissolved into muffled giggles. They would never have been able to hold it together, but it had been worth a shot anyways.
Paul pretended not to notice Ren had arrived, ordered, and came cautiously nearby. He drank his black coffee. He became slightly too engrossed in his coffee and thoughts, as a voice he wasn't fully expecting addressed him. He whipped sharply around, glancing at who was standing above him.
Quickly the gears started whirring, then came to an abrupt halt. Paul put a hand over his heart and smiled up at Ren.
"Hey, they-bee. I've got some stuff for you in my sack," he sad, patting the duffle bag appreciatively. "Don't even have to sit on my lap for it."
He pulled the zipper down and took out one of the items from inside. It was a long sweater covered in tiger print, along with a black belt with silver studs. Eyeballing it, it would come to mid thigh on Ren, though they might go for a pants look with it rather than a dress.
They spoke in an easy way where Paul was unafraid to throw out flirtations knowing that they wouldn't be taken seriously. Theirs had started as a business arrangement -- he needed to up his grades. Mission accomplished, but he took a shine to Ren. And they were very unafraid to put him in his place, which Paul liked.
"Try 'em on. Take what you want. I secured you a private dressing room."
At the 'sack' comment Ren had blushed, and averted their gaze, as they were wont to do; accustomed though they were to Paul, they had never entirely learned how to suppress that response. It didn't really matter whether they could or not, of course; the feeling was embarrassment, not attraction, and Paul understood that. He knew where the line was: so long as jokes remained jokes, he could embarrass Ren all he wanted.
He was looking at them, now. Smiling expectantly.
"Um."
Still trying to suppress their indignant little blush (for they were indignant, make no mistake), Ren took the proffered clothing, draping both sweater and belt over their arm, and tried not to stare at them too greedily. Their heart raced. They bit their lip. Then they forced their eyes to return to Paul's face.
"So...you're not coming inside?" they said, their voice small. Cracking, but not breaking.
"When did you become such a prude?"
Oh, they were definitely no good at this, but who cared about being good; the point was that it was fun. And good for the health. Something of Paul was rubbing off on them, and somehow that made them feel a little bit more like themself. Like Ren.
Ren allowed the twitching corners of their mouth to curl into a smile, and lowered their voice.
"Alright, but: jokes aside, I think I would prefer for you to join me in there, unless you have an objection of some sort. Means I won't have to go in and come out every few minutes."
They jerked their chin in the direction of the bathroom door.
Paul lifted the coffee cup to his face and took a languorous sip to hide his smile at Ren's reaction. When he lowered it, they suggested that he come in with them to the bathroom, which seemed to take some courage and for which he was proud of Ren. Then his brain almost skipped and jammed at the next 30 seconds of dialogue.
"No objections. That makes sense; it would look more suspicious if you kept going in and out of -- "
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Done.
Paul's affectation cracked, and he stared at them slack-jawed.
"Prude???"
He shook his head to clear away the shock and lifted the bag as he stood.
"You… If I didn't need to maintain a professional business relationship I would put you over my knee and teach you some manners," he said cheerfully with a faint dash of menace. "Lucky for you I'm so bad at calc."
After taking a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, Paul slipped inside the bathroom and promptly took a position looking at a blank wall.
Ren stood frozen as Paul went into the bathroom, having done what their friend could not do and flustered themself into wordlessness. To be fair, Paul's reaction probably deserved most of the credit--his shock was their victory, but winning was surprising. Now their face reflected his. Only difference: Ren's expression of frozen panic was inflected with the kind of shame that Paul almost certainly could not feel, as going far enough to leave Paul wordless inevitably meant going far enough to fill themself with guilt and worry--gods, Ren, what the fuck did you just say.
It was silly of them. Paul's response, when he found it, was--objectively--more vulgar. And Ren was unhurt and unbothered.
And so Ren was relieved.
A moment passed, and then they followed Paul into the bathroom, swallowing the apology that just now had threatened to leave their mouth. The sight of Paul chivalrously staring at a wall brought a smile to their face that was immediately wiped off when they realized why: the bathroom, designed for a single occupant, had no stalls. Their heart quickened, and they cast their eyes frantically about, as though further inspection might yield the discovery of a stall that had somehow heretofore eluded their attention.
Because here's the thing: Ren? Was a prude. Absolutely unquestionably undeniably so. But for Paul to enter the bathroom had been their suggestion; they couldn't very well request his departure now. Or rather they could, if only they were coward enough to refuse the bed they had made.
Instead they sighed, and balled their fists, and pinched their eyebrows together, and said, aloud, "No peeking, now. I'll cancel our study sessions if you do. Or perhaps schedule more of them. Whichever you'd dread more."
Ren lowered the bag to the ground and dropped Paul's clothes (their clothes?) into it. Then, moving with the ginger determination of one about to rip off a band-aid, they began to undress.
Had he thought earlier that he liked that Ren could put him in his place?
Paul gave a pained groan and sagged like someone had plopped down heavy backpack on him.
"Not more math."
He seemed moments away from stomping his foot in toddler-like protest and his tall, lean frame slumped and swayed until it eventually recovered its shape.
"Be a little gentler with me, you maniac," he said, putting the back of his right hand against his forehead as if swooning. "I'll behave. Domesticated Paul," he droned.
Paul theatrically pulled his eyepatch away from the cavern that contained nothing and shifted it, snapping it loudly over his good eye. A more all-encompassing darkness now overtook both eyes.
Someone said they left together
I ran out the door to get her
She was holding hands with Trevor
Not the greatest feeling ever
Something about his stance and air shifted and he put a hand on his hip, swishing his hips to the beat of a song that was piping in through a ceiling speaker.
"So, how have you been? You know, summer break."
It was a question that had another questions standing behind it. Summer meant being home more, which meant more family time, which meant he was asking if they were surviving the circumstances. But wearing the clothes of a different question meant Ren was free to bypass it if they didn't feel like answering.
Paul tilted his head, one eye closed and another covered.
Ren turned away from Paul as they yanked their shirt off--somehow it felt improper to look at him, even though it was Ren who was in a state of undress. Or maybe they were just more self-conscious when they couldn't pretend to themself they were all alone? Quickly they tossed the unfolded shirt into the bag, retrieved the tiger-striped sweater, pulled it over their head; they didn't remember to breathe until after their form was safely ensconced in the sweater. Paul had almost certainly followed through on his promise (and even if he hadn't, Ren's binder would've given him very little to ogle at), but you can't help being a prude.
Paul's question came as Ren was ironing out the spots where the sweater had bunched up.
"Typical enough," they answered, ignoring the slight tightening in their throat. They looked at themself in the mirror, focusing on Paul's sweater (their sweater?) instead; truth be told, it wasn't really their style, but they didn't want to reject it out of hand. Paul had already gone to the trouble of hauling it to the cafe. And it was best not to rule anything out anyways; sometimes you choose the person you want to become, but sometimes you just become them.
Ren took a second to frown at the mirror, and think, before they continued speaking.
"Keeping the restaurant ship-shape, taking the twins to the park. Reading, studying. Oh, I took the ACT. Not to flaunt my credentials, but I did wind up with a thirty-five on that one. In case you didn't know you were learning from the best."
Was the humor forced? It rung false to Ren; it was too obvious what they were trying to dance around. So much for becoming yourself. Still they snorted, so that Paul would know not to take them too seriously, before reaching for the belt--a lovely thing, all black leather and gleaming pyramid studs. Ren had eyed it from the beginning. Of course, it didn't go with the gym shorts they were wearing; they looped it over the sweater instead.
"So, all in all, I'd say...alright, I suppose," Ren said, which was at least a little more forthcoming than what they had said before (if only because of the pregnant pause). "My parents keep trying to tell me that they don't need the help, but I think they're lying. And besides," they added, their voice softening. "They've been good to me. Already promised to help me with paying for whatever college I get into, no matter how much it ends up costing. I would hate to be ungrateful, you know?"
It's been lonely, though, they wanted to add, as they fastened the belt over their waist. But they didn't; that would be too far. Admitting to themself how much they missed their friends--how much they needed them--had been painful enough for Ren; Paul didn't need to be burdened with the pressure of that knowledge. Besides, it would've been an odd thing to say for someone who had been surrounded by family every day.
There was an explanation, of course. That 'someone' had been Maria; Ren hadn't seen company in two months. But you can't just say that without breaking someone's heart, now, can you.
They were done.
"You can turn around now," they said, turning to face Paul. "I'm not sure animal prints quite work on me?" They remembered just in time to pitch their voice up at the end of the sentence. They wanted his honest opinion; best to invite it.
"The belt, on the other hand..." They hesitated. It was beautiful, and yes, Paul had said that they could take whatever they wanted. And yet...
Paul also suddenly felt self-conscious. He hadn't really thought about what he had done until he had done it and was now standing there, listening to Ren.
He'd moved his eye patch which meant if he opened the other eye now... well, that would probably bad and might scare Ren. Or maybe it wouldn't. He wasn't sure, but he was nervous about the possibility now. Paul did a coordinated little half spin so that he was facing the wall again to ease his mind.
"Best of the best, better than the rest" he singsonged in mock awe and gave them the jazz hands with the spirit fingers, though really he gave those to the wall.
"I get wanting to be grateful, but there's also gratefulness in taking a gift. If they're offering it, you only have so much time before you're going to be off some place working that little butt off, you know? It doesn't cost anything to be nice to yourself," he said, the last sentence being a bit gentler than the flirtatious one that preceded it.
Ren signaled being done with the switch and Paul let out a discrete sigh and moved his eyepatch back to its proper place. His lone eye free, the light dazzled him momentarily. He blinked and looked at Ren; a wide grin crossed his face.
He jolted and then held an imaginary wound on his shoulder.
"Call the medic because I think I just got hit with freNBy fire."
