bitter basil, (hozier)

october 31, 1969 - afternoon

diary of judith m. carver (DO NOT READ)
god fuck there's so many things to do today. planning a party is hard. andy's being pissy about the lack of prawn cocktail crisps, and i don't have the heart to tell him that he won't find them anywhere. auggie has called 7 different times to ask me for the address. first of all, he basically lives here, so i don't know what the problem is. second of all, how is he gonna ask me for the address SEVEN WHOLE TIMES?! does he not have something to write it down with? like damn!

-

andy walked into their bedroom to find judy hunched over on the bed, writing furiously into her diary. before he could even say anything, she violently scribbled on the page and promptly slammed it shut.

"ran out of ink?" andy assumed.

judy huffed, blowing a stray curl from her face for a brief moment. "why do pens even run out of ink? it's stupid. pens are stupid." her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. andy leaned on the doorway, amused.

"you're cute when you're angry," said andy, making judy roll her eyes (it didn't stop her from smiling). "anyways... you know how you said you were gonna look again for the prawn crisps?" he asked, a pleading grin on his face.

judy turned and grabbed a pillow, launching it in andy's direction with her infamous throwing arm.

andy yelped and ran out of the bedroom, leaving judy to laugh and open her nightstand drawer. in it was a multitude of brand new pens. she took one and opened her diary to her latest entry, finalizing her thoughts.

happy halloween, diary.
-j.c.

-

later in the evening, judy and andy worked to set up the store for the party - and by 'setting up,' i mean the snacks and booze. in terms of decorations, the string lights already added flair to the overall atmosphere of the store - but judy still hung some jack o' lanterns from the ceiling here and there.

after illuminating the tea light of the last jack o' lantern, judy looked down at the layout of their little store from her stepladder. before indy's records - bronx was indy's records - bronx, it was once the studio of a luthier; a violin maker.

the first time she went into the building in the summer was a fond memory for judy. the showroom itself was almost empty, except for a few odd pieces of furniture draped in linen and an old, battered cello. the smell of wood and sawdust filled her lungs, and something told her in that moment that she wouldn't be able to get that smell out no matter what she did.

from her little stepladder in october, judy closed her eyes and inhaled. sawdust and wood, she thought. like always.

her eyes still closed, another scent filled her nose. pine and soil, with a dash of the incense they've been burning at an alarming rate. she'd know that smell from anywhere. andy was there when she opened her eyes, her lover appearing shorter than her from her place on the stepladder.

andy's hands found their place on her hips, and she reveled in the feeling. she slung her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. "party's ready, then?" he asked into her shirt. she wore a yellow turtleneck, as was part of her and andy's costume. she was mustard, and andy in his red sweater was ketchup.

"mhm," judy hummed contently. she moved back to look at andy, her brown eyes exploring his familiar face.

andy took his hands from her hips and gestured towards her hair. "may i?" he asked. judy nodded. his long arms reached the yellow ribbon judy wore as a headband, having tied the bow just above her bangs. it had shifted off center by a few inches, and andy corrected it, restoring the symmetry to judy's outfit. "there," he said, admiring his work. judy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her heartbeat skipping madly. she almost wanted to laugh at the way a gesture as simple as adjusting her headband left her in absolute shambles. andy could see her mind racing behind her eyes. "what are you thinking, love?"