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Impromptu.
“So…” Kudret trailed off, filling the once-peaceful silence between him and his partner.
Already willing this horrific day to be over, Natia snapped, “What?”
“Nothing!” Kudret defended, unconvincingly. “I just… I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Natia rolled her eyes. “The list of things you don’t know could fill a textbook.”
Kudret stopped in his tracks. “Okay, rude. I get that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but that’s no reason to be vindictive. And anyway, I don’t think you should - “
“Whoa there, cowboy!” Natia whirled around, her wagging finger already pointed at Kudret. “That’s a mighty big assumption you’ve made there. I’m not embarrassed!”
The offending finger was now poking into Kudret’s crisp button up. He watched it prod with indignant eyes. Without lifting his gaze, he threatened, “Natia, I love you, but if you poke me one more goddamn time - or, Gods forbid, crease my shirt - I’m going to snap your finger.”
The finger retreated hastily, much to Kudret’s relief. He smoothed the front of his shirt down.
“Now, are you ready to discuss this like adults?” he asked.
Natia crossed her arms stroppily and wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded her assent.
“Okay,” Kudret began, “so obviously even just alluding to the hands-down best, impromptu acoustic karaoke I’ve ever seen, turns you into a bitch… Why?”
He clucked his tongue tiredly and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he watched Natia’s internal debate through her poorly-hidden facial expressions. She didn’t like to acknowledge how transparent her feelings were. Kudret enjoyed having a front-row seat to every conflict.
He trailed his eyes over her outfit as he waited. Of course, she didn’t hold a candle to Kudret’s put-together nature, even after a rough mission, but she had her own style. In a good mood, he’d describe her style as ‘lumberjack-chic.’ In a bad mood, ‘disgruntled bus-stop passenger.’ Natia didn’t care about current trends, or people’s opinions of her. Kudret genuinely respected that. He’d spent most of his early life putting a *tad* too much self-worth into how others perceived him. He’d made strides with his confidence since then, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a tiny part of him that marvelled at messy up-dos and misbuttoned flannels Natia wore carelessly.
“I don’t sing in front of people.”
Natia’s reply was sudden. Unexpected.
“Why?” Kudret’s response was equally sudden and unexpected, especially to himself. He didn’t regret asking; after the performance Natia had put on, he stood by his question. If he’d had a choice though, he would’ve asked without the voice break.
Natia scoffed, “Because I don’t perform in front of other people. I just don’t, okay?”
“But why??” Kudret questioned. “You were so good! Surely you realise just how good - “
“I get it. Yes, I’m aware. I possess some singing talent -”
“SOME?”
Ignoring Kudret’s screech, Natia continued, “But I don’t sing in front of people. Not anymore.”
Silence.
“... you realise that I have no option but to ask further, right? I mean, you left it on that cliffhanger. You’ve gotta expect me to ask.”
Natia rolled her eyes. Drama queen.
“Fine! Look, it’s not this juicy tragedy or mystery that you want it to be, okay? You’re making this into a bigger deal than it actually is,” she reasoned.
“Shush! Why don’t you sing in front of people anymore?” Kudret persisted.
Natia sighed. Her top-knot sagged sadly. Kudret wanted to dig through her backpack for loose bobby pins, but he resisted the urge. He was an excellent friend.
“I used to. It’s different when you’re training, and given pieces that perfectly fit your vocal range. But your range… puts you in a box. And I was so sick of boxes. I was so sick of not fitting into the ‘box’ people assumed was mine. It was after I came out…” Natia’s amber eyes met Kudret’s, searchingly.
“Inside, I was becoming comfortable with my masculine side. I was comfortable with the fact I’m gay. But when someone who looks like me gets up on stage, in all her descant-soprano glory, all you’re met with is a sea of confused faces. With the whispers afterwards… I used to love singing. I still love singing to myself. But my voice - the thing that once allowed me to feel free when the rest of the world fell to pieces around me - my voice now put me in a box. A box I don’t want to be in.”
Silence. Heavy silence. Kudret wanted to comfort - wanted to go all ‘Mother Hen,’ but he didn’t.
“I don’t sing in front of other people anymore. It takes away the chance for other people to stuff me in boxes I don’t belong in… so, yeah.”
As Natia’s voice trailed off, Kudret was filled with all-consuming rage.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it!”
Oh shit. Natia looked like she was about to cry. Sure, there was probably a better way to go about this, but Kudret couldn’t think of it in the moment.
“Not you, you lovely human being. Of course not you. Who do you think I am?” Ignoring Natia’s raised eyebrow, Kudret continued. “I mean the whole ‘box’ thing, and that whole idea being the reason you don’t sing anymore! It’s bullshit!”
“I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. “Sure, there are shit-bags out there who love to stereotype and judge other people. You can’t avoid them. But also, those people are miserable, insecure FUCKS who genuinely think that things and people who are different somehow take away their right to exist. Those people are idiots! You ignore them! Like all their closest friends and family members hopefully will when realising the extent of their bullshittery!”
Now Natia was the wide-eyed spectator to Kudret’s antics. Oh how the tables turn.
“But, you know what, Natia? None of those fuckers have any right to make you shove parts of yourself down into a box of your own making!” Kudret powered forward before Natia, who’d opened her mouth, had time to retaliate. “I can see those cogs turning, Missy. ‘I don’t put myself in a box! I would never!’ And maybe not intentionally, but Natia, by shoving parts of yourself down to please these fuckwits, you’re creating your own box! Mind. Blown!”
Natia did not appreciate Kudret’s explosive hand gestures. Kudret did. He thought they added to his non-performative performance.
“Anyway, I don’t bring this up to make you feel bad. I bring this up because YOU’RE A REALLY GOOD SINGER! You should sing more! Or at the very least, if you’re not yet ready, you should NOT feel embarrassed about before. You literally mesmerised the guards long enough for me to get the hatch open, and then knocked them out! You’re a fucking legend!” his chest heaved with the energy and emotion he’d channelled into the passionate speech.
After a tense moment, Kudret was relieved to see a small smile grace his friend’s face.
“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “At the very least, I can feel some pride, huh?”
And then, almost as an afterthought, “And maybe karaoke? Would you be down for that?”
Kudret did NOT squeal. He was a suave, fully-grown man. His vocal cords didn’t even know how to squeal… Loudly. He threw an arm over Natia’s shoulders and led the pair of them forward.
“My dear, dear Natia. Prepare to be wowed!”
© O.M.A
#shortstory #story #friendship #selflove #lgbtq #fiction #positivethinking #writco #writcoapp #reflection
Already willing this horrific day to be over, Natia snapped, “What?”
“Nothing!” Kudret defended, unconvincingly. “I just… I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Natia rolled her eyes. “The list of things you don’t know could fill a textbook.”
Kudret stopped in his tracks. “Okay, rude. I get that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but that’s no reason to be vindictive. And anyway, I don’t think you should - “
“Whoa there, cowboy!” Natia whirled around, her wagging finger already pointed at Kudret. “That’s a mighty big assumption you’ve made there. I’m not embarrassed!”
The offending finger was now poking into Kudret’s crisp button up. He watched it prod with indignant eyes. Without lifting his gaze, he threatened, “Natia, I love you, but if you poke me one more goddamn time - or, Gods forbid, crease my shirt - I’m going to snap your finger.”
The finger retreated hastily, much to Kudret’s relief. He smoothed the front of his shirt down.
“Now, are you ready to discuss this like adults?” he asked.
Natia crossed her arms stroppily and wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded her assent.
“Okay,” Kudret began, “so obviously even just alluding to the hands-down best, impromptu acoustic karaoke I’ve ever seen, turns you into a bitch… Why?”
He clucked his tongue tiredly and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he watched Natia’s internal debate through her poorly-hidden facial expressions. She didn’t like to acknowledge how transparent her feelings were. Kudret enjoyed having a front-row seat to every conflict.
He trailed his eyes over her outfit as he waited. Of course, she didn’t hold a candle to Kudret’s put-together nature, even after a rough mission, but she had her own style. In a good mood, he’d describe her style as ‘lumberjack-chic.’ In a bad mood, ‘disgruntled bus-stop passenger.’ Natia didn’t care about current trends, or people’s opinions of her. Kudret genuinely respected that. He’d spent most of his early life putting a *tad* too much self-worth into how others perceived him. He’d made strides with his confidence since then, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a tiny part of him that marvelled at messy up-dos and misbuttoned flannels Natia wore carelessly.
“I don’t sing in front of people.”
Natia’s reply was sudden. Unexpected.
“Why?” Kudret’s response was equally sudden and unexpected, especially to himself. He didn’t regret asking; after the performance Natia had put on, he stood by his question. If he’d had a choice though, he would’ve asked without the voice break.
Natia scoffed, “Because I don’t perform in front of other people. I just don’t, okay?”
“But why??” Kudret questioned. “You were so good! Surely you realise just how good - “
“I get it. Yes, I’m aware. I possess some singing talent -”
“SOME?”
Ignoring Kudret’s screech, Natia continued, “But I don’t sing in front of people. Not anymore.”
Silence.
“... you realise that I have no option but to ask further, right? I mean, you left it on that cliffhanger. You’ve gotta expect me to ask.”
Natia rolled her eyes. Drama queen.
“Fine! Look, it’s not this juicy tragedy or mystery that you want it to be, okay? You’re making this into a bigger deal than it actually is,” she reasoned.
“Shush! Why don’t you sing in front of people anymore?” Kudret persisted.
Natia sighed. Her top-knot sagged sadly. Kudret wanted to dig through her backpack for loose bobby pins, but he resisted the urge. He was an excellent friend.
“I used to. It’s different when you’re training, and given pieces that perfectly fit your vocal range. But your range… puts you in a box. And I was so sick of boxes. I was so sick of not fitting into the ‘box’ people assumed was mine. It was after I came out…” Natia’s amber eyes met Kudret’s, searchingly.
“Inside, I was becoming comfortable with my masculine side. I was comfortable with the fact I’m gay. But when someone who looks like me gets up on stage, in all her descant-soprano glory, all you’re met with is a sea of confused faces. With the whispers afterwards… I used to love singing. I still love singing to myself. But my voice - the thing that once allowed me to feel free when the rest of the world fell to pieces around me - my voice now put me in a box. A box I don’t want to be in.”
Silence. Heavy silence. Kudret wanted to comfort - wanted to go all ‘Mother Hen,’ but he didn’t.
“I don’t sing in front of other people anymore. It takes away the chance for other people to stuff me in boxes I don’t belong in… so, yeah.”
As Natia’s voice trailed off, Kudret was filled with all-consuming rage.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it!”
Oh shit. Natia looked like she was about to cry. Sure, there was probably a better way to go about this, but Kudret couldn’t think of it in the moment.
“Not you, you lovely human being. Of course not you. Who do you think I am?” Ignoring Natia’s raised eyebrow, Kudret continued. “I mean the whole ‘box’ thing, and that whole idea being the reason you don’t sing anymore! It’s bullshit!”
“I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. “Sure, there are shit-bags out there who love to stereotype and judge other people. You can’t avoid them. But also, those people are miserable, insecure FUCKS who genuinely think that things and people who are different somehow take away their right to exist. Those people are idiots! You ignore them! Like all their closest friends and family members hopefully will when realising the extent of their bullshittery!”
Now Natia was the wide-eyed spectator to Kudret’s antics. Oh how the tables turn.
“But, you know what, Natia? None of those fuckers have any right to make you shove parts of yourself down into a box of your own making!” Kudret powered forward before Natia, who’d opened her mouth, had time to retaliate. “I can see those cogs turning, Missy. ‘I don’t put myself in a box! I would never!’ And maybe not intentionally, but Natia, by shoving parts of yourself down to please these fuckwits, you’re creating your own box! Mind. Blown!”
Natia did not appreciate Kudret’s explosive hand gestures. Kudret did. He thought they added to his non-performative performance.
“Anyway, I don’t bring this up to make you feel bad. I bring this up because YOU’RE A REALLY GOOD SINGER! You should sing more! Or at the very least, if you’re not yet ready, you should NOT feel embarrassed about before. You literally mesmerised the guards long enough for me to get the hatch open, and then knocked them out! You’re a fucking legend!” his chest heaved with the energy and emotion he’d channelled into the passionate speech.
After a tense moment, Kudret was relieved to see a small smile grace his friend’s face.
“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “At the very least, I can feel some pride, huh?”
And then, almost as an afterthought, “And maybe karaoke? Would you be down for that?”
Kudret did NOT squeal. He was a suave, fully-grown man. His vocal cords didn’t even know how to squeal… Loudly. He threw an arm over Natia’s shoulders and led the pair of them forward.
“My dear, dear Natia. Prepare to be wowed!”
© O.M.A
#shortstory #story #friendship #selflove #lgbtq #fiction #positivethinking #writco #writcoapp #reflection
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