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Instincts.
"Don't take this the wrong way,” Addison began, “but I don't trust your sense of danger, or your survival instincts."
Affronted, Blaise scoffed, "That's ridiculous. If anything, I exercise an overabundance of caution."
The blonde's responding withering glare had no effect on her friend, who merely rolled their eyes and waved a careless hand. Addison had had enough. If Blaise didn't care about their own wellbeing, she would.
"Oh, look, it's that lady who stabbed you and left you for dead,” the blonde drawled, gesturing to the pinch-faced hag guarding the sausage rolls like a dragon of the world's shittiest nest. “Here. At your invitation-only birthday party."
Her friend dismissed the concern with an infuriating and flamboyant hand wave."She didn't leave me for dead,” they insisted. “Why would she have dropped me on your back porch if she wanted me to die? Trust me, she's fine."
Addison took a forcefully calm and deep inhale through her nose. She knew Blaise. Blaise was many things, but an idiot, they were not. Overly trusting, optimistic, slightly mad, interconnected with the universe…? Sure. But an idiot? No. Absolutely not. The blonde reasoned that there must be some sensible reason for her friend to extend an invitation to the woman that left them for dead.
As much as she did trust Blaise - and Addison trusted Blaise with her life, completely - she wouldn't be able to rest and enjoy this event until that reason was clear.
Thus began the investigation.
Stage 1: Observation.
Addison methodically and meticulously raked her eyes over her friend's body, looking for signs of hidden distress.
Blaise had wandered over to a mutual friend, and was currently mid-giggle. This was most likely due to a dirty quip, or a particularly shitty dad joke. Their standards for humour were pitifully low, but their joy was infectious. The hand carding through their cropped hair was steady, and seemed to serve a practical purpose - lifting strands of fine copper hair from over their eyes.
The lapels of their favourite deep purple coat were littered with enamel pins; a clumsy yet charming attempt at summarising their bubbly personality and niche interests in a public display. The coat was ancient; the proof of which could be seen in the mismatched buttons. Each had been thrifted individually, immediately after the original buttons gradually fell off.
And then there were the patches; assorted and chosen based on texture, not style. And the shoes - forever tied with rainbow laces. Addison had known Blaise for most of their lives. She knew that beneath their grandeur, garish style, and open queerness, rested a history of self-loathing and harm. She knew that this maximalist and quirky fashion began as armour, to shield her fragile friend from the outside world. She'd also been privileged to watch this style turn into Blaise’s most honest form of self-expression. They'd worked so hard, and for so long, to get to a point where they didn't despise the face and body staring back at them in the mirror.
Addison couldn't be prouder of them.
So why, in the ever-loving fuck, had they invited that WOMAN to their birthday party?? It just didn't make sense!
The...
Affronted, Blaise scoffed, "That's ridiculous. If anything, I exercise an overabundance of caution."
The blonde's responding withering glare had no effect on her friend, who merely rolled their eyes and waved a careless hand. Addison had had enough. If Blaise didn't care about their own wellbeing, she would.
"Oh, look, it's that lady who stabbed you and left you for dead,” the blonde drawled, gesturing to the pinch-faced hag guarding the sausage rolls like a dragon of the world's shittiest nest. “Here. At your invitation-only birthday party."
Her friend dismissed the concern with an infuriating and flamboyant hand wave."She didn't leave me for dead,” they insisted. “Why would she have dropped me on your back porch if she wanted me to die? Trust me, she's fine."
Addison took a forcefully calm and deep inhale through her nose. She knew Blaise. Blaise was many things, but an idiot, they were not. Overly trusting, optimistic, slightly mad, interconnected with the universe…? Sure. But an idiot? No. Absolutely not. The blonde reasoned that there must be some sensible reason for her friend to extend an invitation to the woman that left them for dead.
As much as she did trust Blaise - and Addison trusted Blaise with her life, completely - she wouldn't be able to rest and enjoy this event until that reason was clear.
Thus began the investigation.
Stage 1: Observation.
Addison methodically and meticulously raked her eyes over her friend's body, looking for signs of hidden distress.
Blaise had wandered over to a mutual friend, and was currently mid-giggle. This was most likely due to a dirty quip, or a particularly shitty dad joke. Their standards for humour were pitifully low, but their joy was infectious. The hand carding through their cropped hair was steady, and seemed to serve a practical purpose - lifting strands of fine copper hair from over their eyes.
The lapels of their favourite deep purple coat were littered with enamel pins; a clumsy yet charming attempt at summarising their bubbly personality and niche interests in a public display. The coat was ancient; the proof of which could be seen in the mismatched buttons. Each had been thrifted individually, immediately after the original buttons gradually fell off.
And then there were the patches; assorted and chosen based on texture, not style. And the shoes - forever tied with rainbow laces. Addison had known Blaise for most of their lives. She knew that beneath their grandeur, garish style, and open queerness, rested a history of self-loathing and harm. She knew that this maximalist and quirky fashion began as armour, to shield her fragile friend from the outside world. She'd also been privileged to watch this style turn into Blaise’s most honest form of self-expression. They'd worked so hard, and for so long, to get to a point where they didn't despise the face and body staring back at them in the mirror.
Addison couldn't be prouder of them.
So why, in the ever-loving fuck, had they invited that WOMAN to their birthday party?? It just didn't make sense!
The...
