Tender like Feather, with Luck from a Clock // NH au

04:00 am

Frieda

 "Joanna help me out here! I am freaked out and you're just there trying to sleep your ass off! I was nearly raped, murdered, gangbanged-"

"Sold to a Japanese guy to be his maid and sex slave." Her voice dripped off as she punched her snoozing voice into our conversation.

"Are you just gonna sleep there Joanna? I can't believe this b*tch." That really woke her up. She's angry now.

"What did your sorry excuse for a face that has a hoe for a mum just called her goddess of fashion say?"

"A stinking damn of an excuse for a Miley Cyrus wanna-be baby with Boy George as the father's b*tch. That's what I called you." You see, we students of the prestige competitive Fashion Industry have this flare within us that is usually transferred as creative energy for our creations. However, the transfer of energy from flare to creactive energy isn't 100% efficient. Some is transferred as this hormone, which produces sass. 50% ass, 50% attitude. And sometimes, specially girls like us throw tantrums and export sass in vast quantities. What am I even doing to myself?

As my trains of thoughts reaches the other side of my ear, I focus back to what I am currently doing: pulling her hair strands to molecular pieces. She does the same except I have more access to more hair than she does to mine because of our position, thank goodness watching wrestling with my brother unconditionably ever Saturday morning paid off! He taught me some tricks of my own, such as the petal smash, which is elegantly painful.

She screamed.

And yelled.

And angrily sobbed.

She knew I could beat her up anyday even in the conditions of me being traumatised; she does understand that my brother is a pro-wrestler so I don't know what she's on about. She layed still on the floor, picking herslef up to pieces, including her bra. Groggily, she got up as she hides her tears away; she's slouching to a position not aesthetically pleasing. I stood there in full honour and dignity. Her mickey mouse top is leaving her presence on one place making her look 'urbanly' beautiful. Stunning but defeated. We merely moved once again because of the high pressure of mental fatigue and the dense atmosphere between I, Frieda Anna Hart and her, Joanna Anne Grace. We stood in our positions and held it sharp as we prepared for the next move.

Laughter.

"Oh my gosh Frieda! You were hysterica!" Barely making out the last words as she huffed them.

"You should've seen your face! What a fail on your crying!" I did the smae likewise. This is us: just figthing for the sake of laughing. We're here for each other and we never had a proper fight, not that I could think of and this is because we had build our friendship in cement that has been in salt water for more than a decade; we're just this wonderful. Spontaneos right? We met half way across the living room away from our stance of anger and cupped each other with our bare hands that we also use to slap each other, it is not that weird is it?

"Ok hun, drama's over. Let me tell you the story of my sweet dream during the time you got raped." She announced as Joanna taps the space on the floor.

"Honey it's not story time, it's 4:47am and I need to go to sleep." I detested.

"It includes hot boys." Her high pitched 'boys' swung me around making me attracted to her story.

"Let me dress and get a hot coca." Her face produced the most gleaming smile I've ever seen tonight. I made my way through carpetted path leading to the bathroom where my pyjamas were hung. I briefly saw Joanna offering to make me her special 'story-time' hot cocoa. My unexpexted excitement controlled my body by making me move efficiently and quickly. I rushed out of the bathroom and sat on the floor as the teacher expects whilst she manuvered her way back to the spot of comfort, the spot that is called her bed.

"Once upon a time.."

"Get to the story Joanna Anne Grace."

"Well, do you remember X-factor last year? How I told you I had love at first sight with that guy who auditioned from Doncaster I think. Anyway, my bae Louis Tomlinson is what I dreamt of."

"He's not even that hot."

"Hush now dearie, let the grown-up tell the story. Anyway, I was dreaming about my life in three years time; how we would be newly wed and I dreamt about our first date first. I would meet him at the mall and I would recognise his sweet musk as he wave towards me signalling me to come to him. By then he would be the next Francisco Lachowski and because of the publicity he gets, he would get sick of it and go incognito in public and usually he doesn't get caught but I know by butts as I would recognise his. Those luscious muscly butt cheeks of his are undeniable and so I would come to him from behind and say 'I'm not a stalker but I know you Louis and I really would like just to talk to you. I'm not a fan though obviously I am because I can clearly distinguish your special behind to others so if you don't want me to break your cover by shouting your name, you might as well go on a date with me.' So he would-"

"Turn around and smack you on the face as you scared his holy behind and would've thrown you in a dumpster adn the story ends?" My eyebrow game was strong, but hers was superior.

"No miss goody-two shoes, he would turn around and silently laugh as he takes my hand and go to the local Starbucks because he likes all the dares, the fun, the excitement and the chills. We would've talked and talked for days end and he would give me his number and then we would often contact each other and he would invite me in his catwalks and his manager would be more happier because he's doing his work better than before because he's happy because of me. Then we would get married and everyone would be there and of course you would be the official photographer because I want every pixel of his face treasured into my photo albums in case he decides to get a divorce because y'know, a supermodel. And we would all live happily ever after!"

"Uh, what about me having a happily-ever-after ending?" 

"Er yeah, you were ther with your fianceé who's... Irish! That's it! With a six pack." She didn't care less about my ending but the idea of having my dream man coming with me to my bestfriend's wedding is just magnificent, I am truly in love with a dream.

I wish I can fall in love for the last time before I go to Paris.  Impossible.