paradise ; mgc

two (or the big bang)

1:23 am, saturday
south side

Hana was uncomfortable. Itchingly so.

Her arms were crossed indignantly over her chest, wearing the thickest sweater she owned and dark jeans that wrinkled around her ankles for being too long for her, yet she still felt the need to cover up.

It's this place, she thought, and it was.

"May," she childishly whined in a whisper-yell at her twin sister, who was four minutes older than her, but not yet old enough be out at 1:00 am, decisively perusing the lookbook of a tattoo parlor. Her fake ID would tell otherwise.

May didn't respond, and Hana was starting to feel like she was going to throw up if she couldn't get a breath of air that wasn't filled with the smell of salty muscle sweat and lukewarm malt liquor.

She was also 70% positive that someone had been shot on this street corner last December.

She was being paranoid, sure, but this is the South Side. And when North Sider's aren't cautious on the South Side, bad things happen.

"Mayumi," she hissed louder. Her sister snapped around with a highly expectant look on her face.

The sound of her full Japanese name made her want to spit.

"What, Hana?"

"Well you could start with what exactly possessed you to call me to steal moms car and pick you up from TJ Wasserman's stupid homecoming kegger at 1:00 in the morning just to bring you to some-"

Hana tensed and glanced to her left, then her right.

"-sketchy tattoo parlor?"

Mayumi rolled her monolid eyes, rimmed with smudged eyeliner, and pinched the bridge of her thin nose, "Jesus Christ, how old are you?"

"The same age as you," Hana continued to whisper gruffly as she briskly made her way to where her sister leant against the glass counter, "Which happens to be too young to get a tattoo."

"Do I literally look like I give a shit?" May replied loudly, and on purpose, because it was annoying Hana.

"The racist housewives on our street assume mom doesn't speak English, and they have nothing to do all day except cut sandwiches into little squares, and gossip. The sixteen year old child of that same household getting a very illegal tattoo will be the dinner time cautionary tale of every house on the block by Monday. And you literally should give a shit because we are literally going to be on house arrest."

"They assume she doesn't speak English because they think she's dads maid," May replies, flatly.

"Ok, but the point is she isn't, and they don't even really want to know if she is, they just think they're better than her. Doesn't that make you mad?"

May glanced up and laughed. More like a snort, which made her cover her mouth in surprise, and then laugh more. Hana stood in utter confusion, watching her sisters midnight black hair falling into her face, while she keeled over in hard laughter against the counter and gasped for air.

And two girls at the counter, in their commotion, did not hear the fake ding of the entrance door, which glowed red and blue from the shop open sign. Neither did they notice the black haired boy, wearing a sturdy jean jacket, and an unpleasant expression, who walked in as it made the sound.