Katherine
My phone blares a triumphant refrain, selected from an expertly crafted playlist of energizing melodies fit to rouse me from slumber. Lyrics of one’s return from a long absence, the absurd notion of said return taking on a dark, obsidian color in spite of its abstract nature precluding such properties; motivational and yet wholly irrelevant to my present circumstances, given that no absence has occurred. I have been asleep for a normal amount of time since last night.
And yet, this song–overused by sequels throughout audiovisual media despite the tremendous cost of licensing its usage–feels oddly appropriate for my circumstances. The events of last night would surely have broken a less resilient woman, leaving her wallowing in despair, comforted only by memories of adequate-yet-unskilled rooftop fellation from a woman in the throes of denial. Not me, however. I am prepared to
rise
.
Well. Not immediately, for the late-night plotting session between Rashmi and I did have the unfortunate outcome of an irresponsibly late bedtime. Slumber beckons once more, surely I can afford myself another…
…why yes, Nichole, I did come here to save you from the sex dungeon in the castle of the evil billionaire queen by wall jumping, that is a skill I have recently acquired by sheer accident, and—
“Kathy? I’m whipping up some late breakfast, want some?”
Ah, Rashmi in her graceful kindness is offering me a meal? At this early hour of—
Shit, it’s almost afternoon.
“Yuh, thash good,” I perfectly and coherently articulate my appreciation. “Lemme geddup.”
Yes, I must
rise
. I have lost enough crucial hours of this tremendously important day already and cannot afford to dally with any nonsense, such as checking my phone and looking to see if anything interesting has happened on the Ranked Competitive Breast Growth server since last night. I mean, kickoff coincided with the party. I do not recall if this is a month with updated rankings, but there could be some interesting—
Katherine. Put the phone down and get dressed. You are being offered breakfast by your very attractive friend with whom you are about to formulate concrete plans to save your other friend. Additionally, whether or not Rashmi is attractive is
completely
irrelevant to the task at hand.
Yes, in the spirit of expedience I shall even opt for a simple outfit: The cat-ear hoodie, one of my trusty pairs of thigh-high socks—the ones with the arcane glyph pattern will do nicely—and only a basic application of makeup, relying only on essentials, not doing anything
too
complex with the wings on the eyeliner.
I swish some mouthwash from my backup supply–it pays to have such a thing in one’s bedroom–and head towards the bathroom to spit it out. On the way, I give my regards to Rashmi as she skillfully wields her cookware in a display of utter
mastery
of breakfast-craft, the apron clinging to her figure, accentuating curves which are all the more visible now that she is truly committing to self-actualization.
I’m somewhat taken aback by her moderately overwhelming, um, aesthetic appeal. I quickly retrieve some paper towels from the kitchen counter to wipe my mouthwash from the floor.
“Sleep well?” Rashmi asks with a wry smile, fortunately too occupied with scrambling eggs to witness the ongoing disaster of spit-mouthwash-paper I am battling on the floor.
“I am reinvigorated, fully, ready to face the challenges ahead of us with all my might.” I apply said might to quickly dispose of the soggy mass of paper, and the darkness only
slightly
creeps into the edges of my vision from standing up so quickly–It certainly seems that the iron supplements have helped, on that front. “Have you heard anything of our cohabitants’ whereabouts?”
“Eh.” Rashmi shrugs. “Desdemona was in the group chat earlier.”
Oh? I must see this for myself, but there are more pressing matters at hand. “And what of Nichole?” I seat myself at the table, bracing for what is to come next.
“Well, she’s not online. She still hasn’t replied to any of my messages. You?”
I check my phone. “Nothing. Well, nothing aside from the group chat.”
Desi <3
I’m sure you’ll all be
delighted
to know that I am going to be staying over with Brad, Kenny and Lenny for the foreseeable future. I’ll be around this weekend to pick up the shattered pieces of my life, and then you will all be rid of me forever.
Desi <3
I wish you all the best, of course, and if any of you want to apologize to me I am willing to approach you all in good faith. I won’t hold my breath, of course.
Desi <3
We had something amazing going, Kyle. We can still fix this, you don’t have to throw it all in the trash like this.
Rashmi
? give us a heads-up when you’re coming over.
“Wow,” I remark upon witnessing the exchange. “She persists in insisting upon that particular shortening?”
Rashmi breathes a weary sigh, exhausted by the mere reminder of the horrors from which she has only just escaped. “She can do whatever, I don’t care. It’s Brad’s problem now.”
“Kenny and Lenny’s, as well. Um–” I look to Rashmi apologetically, as she spreads her home-made guacamole on some toast, “Do we… know any of these people?”
Rashmi provides her deliciously ostentatious breakfast, gracefully passing it with her soft, delightfully pretty hands, and raises an eyebrow as she sits down across from me.
“Yeah? Kenny and Lenny are from the GSA. Brad’s the one from the server.”
“Ah, Server Brad, of course. Well-known server user… Brad.”
“Kathy, you really don’t pay attention to who those people are in real life, do you?”
My attempt to present myself as one who knows of this ‘Brad’ individual crashes in the face of Rashmi’s great insight and awareness that I am clearly spouting nonsense. She is, all in all, somewhat more difficult to lie to than Nichole. A challenging prospect if I ever need to deploy genuine deception against her, though I sincerely hope I’ll never have to. Her amused smile, those incredibly pretty lips, they do provide some consolation for the embarrassment.
“Yes, yes, my penance for failing to connect your necronym to your pseudonym shall continue. More pertinently, what are we to do about our remaining cohabitant and
her
use of that accursed server?” I elegantly maneuver the conversation onto the matter at hand–and away from this shameful subject matter–as I maneuver the scrambled eggs onto the toast.
“Right,” Rashmi takes a contemplative bite of her own toast before continuing. “About that. I think we should just be honest with her.”
“Eh?” I put down my slice of well-topped toast. “Rashmi, I recognize that you lack experience in subterfuge, but surely you must know that what you are suggesting is not, in fact, a scheme to help Nichole come to terms with her identity indirectly. It is rather the opposite of that.”
Rashmi looks frustrated. I can tell by how she is putting her head in her hands.
“So first of all, I am banning you from using the word ‘scheme’.” She sternly fixes her gaze upon me as I consider the implications for how this will impact our ploy, or perhaps gambit. “Look. We got into this mess because we kept doing this shit, and it has to stop. When Nichole shows up… I mean first of all we make sure she’s not hurt or anything.
Then
we put all our cards on the table.”
Utterly disastrous. Does Rashmi truly intend to just
tell Nichole things
, plainly, with no regard for the potentially apocalyptic outcome should she find our confessions lacking? Did she sacrifice all her faculties to obtain the courage needed to rid herself of Desdemona?
Wait. Katherine, think about this. It is evident that Rashmi is proficient in some abilities which you lack, as evidenced by the immense nutritional value of this delicious guacamole you are presently consuming. Could it be the case that her assessment is correct? Is it possible that, if you simply confess everything to Nichole, she will turn out to be amenable to the notion of her own womanhood?
“I suppose, on some level, the simplicity of this–” do not say the banned word “–
tactic
has an elegance of its own.”
“It’s also just a normal and reasonable way to treat people you care about.” She shakes her head a little and finishes the last bit of her toast.
“You have a legitimate viewpoint. I shall take it into consideration.”
I, too, finish my food, thanking its maker by bringing our dishes to the sink. I proceed with rinsing them off while she takes care of wiping the countertop. The silence that descends upon us then is… utterly maddening!
What happened to the conversation just now? We were speaking so well, and then suddenly we just stopped? Is Rashmi upset with me, or did we simply run out of subject matter? Quick, find a new topic to bring up, it is the simplest and most natural way to infer which case of sudden nonverbality has been foisted upon us!
Katherine. Do it already. Come up with some small talk. Surely you have
something
you can discuss with her beyond the confines of our shared circumstances? Common interests?
The server?
No, the server is completely off the table. I myself have not even looked at it since early last night, and in all honesty I cannot recall a time where she has ever wished to simply discuss its goings-on. This is utterly aggravating. How do I not know of a single one of her passions? Does she own gaming hardware? Watch movies?
Anything
?
What is it about her that is making you so infuriatingly incompetent in simply picking some nonsense to fill the air with? Rashmi is just your roommate, Katherine. Simply find a subject, it is not as if you are going to be executed if you make a bad choice here!
Guesswork it is. All I have to do is pick a piece of media popular with transfeminine demographics, and hope for the best.
“So, um, have you been reading Demon Viking Forcefem Planet?” I ask, immediately regretting my choice as I hear the words coming out of my own mouth.
“Demon
what
—”
We are mercifully interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. Its resounding slam heralds the arrival of a potential savior who might deliver me from further self-inflicted embarrassment—
It’s Nichole.
She’s here.
She’s here, and she looks well rested, and she’s wearing a denim jacket I’ve never seen her in before, and it’s not really a style I expect of her but it works because
everything
works on her as she is so incredibly pretty and I want to hug her and kiss her and tell her everything and—
“Hey, you two.”
That flat, inscrutable affect remains entirely lacking in any indication of her mood, but it does not matter. “Nichole! It is good to see you!”
She looks puzzled by that. Somewhat understandable–she lacks the crucial context that I have, but I am going to reveal all of it to her. I will be completely honest
and
have it turn out well for me. If I am to have any faith in Rashmi’s judgment, then I must trust that this will go well.
“Sure. You too, Kathy and Ky–”
“It’s Rashmi, actually.”
Nichole stops at that, her brows furrowing. She blinks a few times as this earth-shattering revelation sinks in. The time for honesty is now truly upon us, and as the waves of truth crash against her, she will inevitably be swept away, carried far by the current. Unharmed and arriving at a peaceful island of truthfulness, that is.
“Right, cool beans, Rashmi!"
"That’s totes fetch.” Nichole’s awkward, stilted smile and quick thumbs-up are followed by absolutely no further inquiry about the subject.
“Is something the matter, Nichole?” I ask with all the sincere concern I can muster, for I need Nichole to know that I care for her well-being.
“I mean. Yeah? Totes? Yesterday kinda happened, Kathy.”
Oh. Of course. There is the confounding matter of our most recent altercation and the preceding argument, as well as how, while
I
certainly have thought about it at great length, she presumably has not.
“Well, yes, yesterday did occur. I was simply concerned that something else might have happened in the interim, but I was very much intending to address yesterday’s events as well! I take it you are unharmed, then?”
“Yeah, I spent the night with Rupali.” Nichole has this oddly giddy look on her face as she speaks. Visiting Rupali again, for the second time in the span of less than twelve hours? Had I not known better, I’d be tempted to speculate that the entirety of this friendship has sprung up practically overnight.
“Why were you hanging out with
Ru
, of all people?” Rashmi asks the question that I was thinking, once again demonstrating the merits of questioning these matters with one’s mouth rather than thoughts. A lesson you ought to internalize at some point, Katherine.
“We both needed a shoulder to cry on, after what happened last night. So we found ourselves in each others’ arms.”
This doesn’t make any sense. What happened to Rupali? From Rashmi’s account, I was under the impression that she and Rupali had a nice time together, resulting in the dissolution of Rashmi’s bizarre affair with Desdemona and paving the way for her new commitment to truthful, open communication.
“The hell are you talking about?” Rashmi seems as puzzled as me, though a shade more belligerent.
“Oh, nothing! Just that
someone
went ahead and left the party with Desdemona, after dancing with Rupali.” Nichole punctuates her ‘someone’ by rolling her eyes and glancing over at Rashmi.
Rashmi is sputtering with rage. “The
fuck
? What do you think I was doing with Des, exactly?”
“I don’t really like to speculate on what you two get up to in private, girliepop.” Nichole shrugs.
“Speculation or not, I believe you are severely misrepresenting what happened last night. From what I understood of the events, Rashmi and Desde—”
“Yeah, I don’t really care about your take on this, Kathy.”
The interruption from Nichole is, first and foremost, quite upsetting in how curt it is. It makes me think that my predictions for this encounter may have been somewhat naive in their unwarranted optimism. We haven’t even gotten to steer the conversation towards confessing anything yet!
Nichole continues, seemingly unaware of my growing unease. “Bottom line is, she needed someone,
I
also needed someone, one thing led to another—”
Surely Nichole ought to be aware that she is deploying phrases which carry implications beyond the plain meaning of her words? I mean, given my own fraught history with unfortunate phrasing and how routinely she is the one to point out such misapplications of terminology, does she not realize she is making it sound like—
“What I’m saying is Rupali and I are dating.”
“You’re WHAT?”
Nichole
Last night…
“An online breast growing competition. For men.”
Rupali’s head is in her hands. Her exhaustion is visible in every motion as she reaches for her cup of hot chocolate. I sip my own while she takes the time to process. It’s really way too late for this shit.
“Yup.”
“And they
both
think they’re men doing it for the competition?” Rupali sounds as baffled as I remember being, all those months ago when Kathy dumped all this at my feet.
I lean back in the armchair. It’s a comfortable, soft piece of furniture, off in a nook of Rupali’s apartment, arranged precisely for one-on-one conversations. One of the many clever little touches to the decor, all of which are really making me conscious of my own lack of interior decorating skills.
“They’re fully and entirely swept up in the server’s ideas about gender, Ru. It’s horrifying to look at—I mean, you’ve met Kathy.”
Ru nods, placing her cup on the little coffee table between us before leaning back. “She seemed so… well, not
normal
, exactly, but she seemed like a trans girl.”
“She’s like
that
, and fully believes she’s a guy doing all of it for the competition.”
“Does she get extra points for dyeing her hair, or…?”
Rupali knows just what to say to lighten the mood, at least. I crack a small smile.
“Nope. She just went ahead and got purple over the whole sink anyway!”
At least we can both laugh about this whole mess a little. Ru’s laugh is so nice, too. I think I’m a bit jealous of her, in a few ways, really. Ru is just so pretty, and her voice is just so pleasing to the ear.
“And Kaal? I mean, what’s she like when I’m not around? Is there more of
her
there?” Rupali inches forward in her seat.
She’s clearly a lot more invested in Kaal, but I’m going to have to disappoint. “I’ve never seen her like that before, sorry. I’m pretty sure that was Kathy’s dress she was wearing.” I take another sip of the hot chocolate. It feels a bit odd that we’ve both decided Kaal’s pronouns for her at this point, but then everything about this situation is weird.
Rupali groans. “I just wish she’d have told me about this. I mean, my best friend is trans! I have some experience with this!”
“Well, I
am
trans and couldn’t help either of them.” I leave out the embarrassment of having taken both of them at face value until tonight. I don’t want Ru to think
I’m
stupid.
Rupali takes the letdown pretty well, all things considered. The sigh isn’t
that
exhausted.
“Is…
Desdemona
also involved in this competition?” She spits out the name with deserved amounts of vitriol.
“She is, but I’m actually not sure if the new persona is a server thing or if she actually thinks it’s just drag. I was a bit too busy to ask.” I shrug, sheepishly.
“An extra complicated case, then.” Rupali shakes her head.
“Yeah, I don’t want to think about how to even begin untangling that mess. Kathy and Kaal have to take priority there.”
Without either of us really saying it, we’ve reached an unspoken, mutual agreement that it’s our job to help those two. We have to do it, because who else will?
“So how
do
we snap them out of it, Nichole? I mean, we can’t just wait around hoping they’ll figure it out, can we?”
“I’m stumped, honestly. We have to like, figure out some way to make them realize they have to stop the server bullshit, without confronting them directly.” I’m leaning back in the soft, comfy chair and rubbing my temples. “They’re too primed by Laura’s gender gobbledygook to admit they’re actually just trans women, and not just men transfeminized under patrilineality or what-fucking ever.”
It’s really late, and I’m starting to feel it. I’m too tired to be clever, and I really hope that Rupali’s smart enough to figure something out.
“It has to be quick, too.” Rupali sounds contemplative. “Otherwise, their nonsense will just keep pushing away everyone who cares about them.”
“Everyone except us, that is, since they’re both lucky enough to have someone with infinite bullshit tolerance.” I smile at her, exasperated.
“Yeah,” Rupali sighs, “it’s hard to be a moronsexual.”
“It really is. How are they going to learn that continuing to deny themselves has consequences, when they have us as a safety net they can always fall back on?”
That’s when it hits me, almost as soon as my mouth forms the words. I sit up straight, realizing the implications of what I just said.
“Rupali! Hang on. Hear me out here.”
Clearly taken aback by the sudden outburst, Rupali cautiously nods. “Go on?”
“Think about it for a second. Kaal cheated on you, and all you’ve been doing about it is worry about her. Katherine’s done so much bizarre nonsense to me over the years and I’ve always figured she had good intentions, so I almost never pushed back, and waited for her to apologize on her own. See the issue here?”
“I mean. It kind of sounds like you’re saying we shouldn’t help them?” Rupali squints at me.
Shit. I have to get the idea across more clearly. It’s so obvious in my head, but how do I phrase it? “No like. Look. They’re so used to the idea that no matter what, we’ll stick with them. If we can make them realize that they can’t take that for granted, if we do something really shocking and unexpected to both of them, then they’ll have to realize that their behavior won’t be tolerated forever! They have to actually worry about losing us.”
“I think you might be on to something.” Ru leans forward, hands clasped together, chewing on her lip. “Like a shock to the system.”
“Yeah.” My mind is racing. “We’ve got to make it sting–really hit them where it hurts–so they’re forced to face it head-on. We flip the script, do the type of nonsense they’ve been doing to us, so they’ll realize how badly they’ve treated us.”
“I feel like I should object to that, but…” Rupali trails off, looking down at her feet. “I do admit I kind of want Kaal to understand how it felt when she cheated on me.”
“Exactly!”
Rupali’s on board! That has to mean it’s a good idea. She’s nodding, inviting me to keep going. The scheme that’s cooking in the back of my mind feels so perfect. Rupali will think so too, and then I’ll know it’s not just the sleep deprivation talking.
“What do you have in mind?” Rupali stares at my face.
I smirk. “Well, what if… What
if… We pretend to date each other!
”
Rashmi
“You’re WHAT?”
It makes no sense. What the fuck does Nichole mean, she and Rupali are
dating
? Ru and her? After yesterday? How? Why?
“We’re dating. We found solace in each other’s embrace. And then we like, totes hooked up after the party. Didn’t regret it when we woke up.”
Nichole has the sheer gall to
shrug
about this.
“Why would you do that, now of all times?” Kathy looks absolutely crestfallen. Nice fucking job, Nichole.
“I mean, we have a lot in common.” Nichole casually discusses this like she’s talking about someone who’s
not
my fiancée, in response to someone who’s not her ex. “We’ve both had really weird experiences with lifelong relationships lately, and we really commiserated over it last night, you know?”
The temerity of this girl is absolutely unbelievable. There was a time not too long ago where I thought of Nichole as the least insufferable roommate, and I want to travel back to scream at that version of me for being a fucking idiot.
I snap loudly in front of Nichole’s face to get her attention. “Hey jackass, Ru’s my
fucking fiancée
! Want to explain to us how
that
fits in this whole thing?”
“What’s there to explain?” Nichole tilts her head at me. “That didn’t seem to be an issue when you wanted to fuck Desdemona.”
I’m stunned. I take a step back, because if I don’t, I’m going to fucking punch Nichole’s stupid, smug face.
How
dare
she?
Nichole’s not done, either. “Like, honestly? You lost the right to complain about this when you showed up to the ball with Kathy, then left with Des.”
Another. Fucking. Shrug.
I think I hate Nichole. I hate the way she waltzes onto the moral high ground, as if she’s never truly at fault, as if she’s not just as much of a mess as the rest of us. She has the audacity to lecture me on my supposed treatment of Rupali, when every word she says is putting Kathy on the verge of tears. She’s acting like I, what, stole Kathy from her? When what I did was actually talk to the girl that Nichole has been treating like shit for weeks now?
I’m not putting up with this crap. I want to make Nichole confront exactly how fucked up what she’s doing is. I
need
to hurt her as badly as she just did me, cluelessly bulldozing into my life right as it felt like I was finally about to fix everything with the girl I’ve loved since I was a fucking KID.
But how could she ever understand this? It’s not like Nichole has gone through anything nearly as conflicted as what Rupali and I had. It’s not as if she’s spent countless sleepless nights steeped in guilt over her insufficiencies towards an amazing, beautiful, incredible woman having to suffer the indignity of her presence. She can’t even begin to comprehend what it’s like to find the impossible, wonderful hope that it might actually work out, only to have it ripped away in front of her like
this
. The closest thing I can even think of to approximate just a fraction of the affront against me she’s committing here would be like if—
“Then I guess you don’t have an issue with Kathy and me dating, either.”
Silence, for a moment, aside from a tiny squeak from Katherine. Her eyes widen as they dart back and forth between me and Nichole.
Please
don’t object right now, Kathy. Please just figure out what’s happening and play along with it?
Nichole, meanwhile, looks like she’s struggling to understand what I said. She keeps trying to say something, but fails, sputtering wordlessly for about half a minute. I can’t help but smirk a little—bull’s eye, you bitch.
Finally, Nichole finds her voice. “No, you’re not. You’re not.” She turns to Katherine. “Kathy, please confirm. Is she for real?”
“Yup!” Katherine exclaims in a pitch somewhere north of anime and entering into singing cartoon chipmunk territory. “It is true! I can verify it as such!”
Katherine leaps to her feet and grabs my hand. She raises my arm up, like we’re declaring victory at the end of a marathon. I suppress the urge to slam my other palm into my face and instead focus on giving Nichole the smuggest expression I can muster.
Okay, Kathy’s in on it. It seems like Nichole’s buying it too. She stands there gawping, squinting, lips parted slightly. I hope she can’t believe her eyes. I truly hope the sight of me claiming Kathy right in front of her haunts her as she cries into her pillow tonight. I want the taste of her own medicine to be
bitter
.
When she finally speaks, it’s in a low, defeated tone. “How could you do this to me?”
“Do
what
, precisely?” My retort is quick.
“We are informing you about something we are doing to each other. It is definitionally not being done to you, Nichole. Our entanglement, that is. ‘Us’ in this case being Rashmi and I. As we are telling you at this moment in time.”
Well done, Kathy. You certainly
tried
to sound calm and level-headed, I’ll give you that.
“You know what I mean!” Nichole snaps.
“I don’t!” I refuse to let Nichole trample over Kathy. “Could you enlighten us on how this is different from what you and Rupali are doing?”
“I…” Nichole trails off, frowns, and stomps over to her bedroom. “If you can’t tell, then I can’t help you, actually!” She slams the door on her way in.
Breathe. I turn to Kathy. We stare at each other, still holding hands. Despite our little moment of synergy, we’re about equally baffled by what just happened.
“We should relocate to your chambers, she might listen through the walls.”
“Yeah.” I start moving, then realize how suspicious that sounds and hasten to loudly add, “Yes, of course,
honey
! Wouldn’t want Nichole to eavesdrop on us sucking face!”
Okay, that should cover our tracks. We proceed to my cham—bedroom. We go to my bedroom.
Exhausted, Kathy collapses into my desk chair. “So, evidently the situation is far more dire than we had anticipated.”
“Yeah, you’d think there was a limit to how badly Nichole could fuck up a single night,” I sigh. “Sorry about dragging you into the whole dating thing.”
Kathy suddenly sits up very straight. “Right. The dating thing. I—in the spirit of our commitment to honesty I suppose I ought to clarify that in the moment, my interpretation of your declaration was that we were deceiving her. Correct?” She shifts in the chair as she talks, cycling through increasingly creative ways of arranging her legs.
“Yup. Sorry, again. I really threw the whole honesty thing out the window there, but I just wanted Nichole to realize what an ass she was being.”
Kathy watches me explain, contemplative. “Well, no plan survives contact with the enemy, I suppose. We have new information to act on, and shall fall back on plan B.”
“Plan B?” I’m so exhausted—I don’t recall there being a Plan B. “I’m gonna be real, Kathy, I’m not sure I’m in the mood to help Nichole figure her identity out while she’s dating my fiancee.”
Kathy tilts her to the side, puzzled. “I mean—that is certainly an option, but what if we simply talked to Rupali first, to seek clarification on the matter of your betrothal? It would be more in line with our stated principle of clear, honest communication over subterfuge.”
Not sure if she actually said what I think she said. I’m stuck staring in disbelief at the idea that
Kathy
is suggesting this.
“And if that plan fails, then we may resort to subterfuge! Having truly exhausted all other options, we will be fully justified in wholeheartedly committing to playing the role of a pair of lovers utterly smitten in defiance of the fate that was ordained for them!”
Ah. There it is. The enormous smile on her face as she looks at me for confirmation really says everything about which plan she wants us to go for.
“But Rupali first.” I try to hold her back a little bit, before she talks herself into it
too
much.
“Rupali first, correct.”
“Cool.”
“Yup. And to be clear, my enthusiasm for the dating idea is primarily motivated by its suitability for achieving the greater good here, not any other ulterior motives.” She shifts around in the chair again.
“Right, yeah, of course, I mean, it’s just the idea I ran with in the moment because it works.” I somehow feel like the more we emphasize this, the less true it sounds. I mainly just wanted to throw Nichole’s callousness back in her face. I’m not sure exactly how pretending to date Kathy will make Nichole give up on her server brainworms, but I know that it
will
piss her off, which is a good enough starting point to work from.
“Precisely! While admittedly I would be delighted to–you know, the real thing–were the circumstances not as they are—” Kathy’s talking faster and mumbling more the longer she goes on. “Because–I mean, in a platonic sense I can admit that you have many attractive qualities which are only further enhanced now that I may comfortably view you as a woman–the
point
is, such matters are of absolutely no relevance to our course of action, as this is purely a strategic alliance!”
God damnit, she’s cute when she’s flustered. Her eyes are darting around my room, and coupled with the way she fidgets, she looks kind of like a scared rabbit. I kind of want to feed her carrots and release her back out into the wild.
“Right. Strategic alliance. Sure.” Whatever that means. “So, just so we’re on the same page, how do you think pretending to date will help Nichole?”
Kathy stares at me for a moment. “Well, I would hope that I don’t need to explain that to you, given that it is entirely self-evident!”
“Kathy.” I speak gently but firmly. “You have no idea how this is going to work either, do you?”
Deer in the headlights. She’s really not a good liar.
“Admittedly, I am still working out the details.”
“Right. So we wing it, and when we have clever ideas here we share them with each other.” I sigh, and finally let my palm hit my face. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yep! Let us shake hands on this agreement!” Kathy reaches her hand out, avoiding eye contact by fixating entirely on my own.
“Yeah, we’re in business.”
I proceed to shake the sweatiest hand I’ve felt in a very long time.
Tahani
My opponent’s feint is the most obviously telegraphed attempt to lock me into his overdrive combo I’ve ever seen, and I seize the opportunity to grab, uppercut, air slash twice and, of course, trigger my own overdrive.
Victory comes shortly after. His first mistake was thinking it wasn’t Tahani Time. A mistake that cost him dearly, cause here’s the thing: It’s
always
Tahani Time.
I lean back in my ergonomic gaming chair and take a well-earned victory stretch, an
incredible
one at that. It’s a perfect Saturday: Basking in victory at the GSA party, in ranked convicted cog online play, and of course, in Bobbie handing me a lunchtime cup of tea
with
a cinnamon bun zie baked.
Tragically, I can’t ask hir to glaze my buns, as this would result in another lecture on regional cinnamon bun variants in Swemark and how glazing this particular variant is practically heresy, the kind of thing only people from the eastern fjords would even consider doing to
their
cinnamon buns, which also, for the record, are cinnamon
rolls
and not proper buns.
Bobbie’s kind of endearing like that sometimes.
“Thanks babe.” I give hir a kiss on the cheek. “Baking for something special?”
“I’ve got a guest coming over soon,” zie smiles at me. “A business guest, that is.”
Sigh. Of course. Bobbie was up and cleaning the whole place early in the morning, and the already-spotless interior of our apartment is now, I’m pretty sure, genuinely up to laboratory standards of sterility. A standard of cleanliness which is nice to have yet exhausting to maintain, a red flag for burnout on the horizon.
“It’s the weekend, Bobbie.” Plus, every time I hear about this particular
business
, my bullshit tolerance for the day is used up three times over.
“It’s an opportunity I can’t refuse, I’m afraid.”
“Is it a hacker who can take down the whole hell server and delete it permanently?” I smirk at hir, and zie shakes hir head while smiling.
“I think it’s best if you see for yourself. It’s hard to get across when you haven’t witnessed her first-hand.”
“Oh, I get it now!” I cackle. “Our guest is someone you have a crush on!”
See, Bobbie should’ve led with that. Adding another member to the Tahanicule is a pretty appealing prospect, even if it’s someone involved with the server. Not like it’s even possible to date trans girls in this town without some server baggage.
Bobbie confirms my suspicions by turning that particular shade of pink I know so well. “That’s not—”
“So she’s hot, then.” I get up, leaning on Bobbie as I look hir in the eyes. “
Now
I’m interested.”
“Tahani, please. I really mean business here.”
“Suuuuure.”
I back away and perch on the couch, a better vantage point to take in the immense hotness on display from my partner. Bobbie’s going for the full white suit fit, hir hair styled with extra volume for the occasion.
“I’d find it easier to believe you if you weren’t fit-check ready, babe.” I giggle when zie blushes further. “In fact, I haven’t seen you put this much effort into an outfit since… Since…”
Since that time zie went on video to have that overlong, asinine debate on the RCBG server. With dawning horror, I wonder: is this the same bitch zie was obsessed with over the summer or something?
That entire project was quite possibly the worst hole I’ve ever seen hir dig hirself into. The deep-dive into decades of shit anthropology, the documentation of how the target’s rhetoric operated, and of course, how zie obsessed over this random girl flying off to get bottom surgery despite continuing to insist on her own manhood.
Like yeah, someone on the server was being ridiculous. That happens all the time, and the comedic value of it runs out pretty fast. Then you’re left just trying to give therapy to an actively resisting patient at the cost of your own mental health, every time you try to save any of them. Better to let things take their course and focus on helping those who make it out on their own, in my opinion.
“I see.” I’ve completely lost interest in this oncoming trainwreck, and my previously sunny mood has been tanked to boot. Simply put, it is no longer Tahani Time. “Well, enjoy the business with whoever-the-fuck. I’m going to get out of the house, hang out with someone sane—like Rupali! She doesn’t dream up harebrained rationalizations for terrible choices—”
I’m interrupted by a knock at our door. Too late for me.
“Oop, I’ll get it!” Bobbie skips off to the entrance, and I take my remaining chance to consider exit strategies so I don’t have to risk being infected with whichever strain of RCBG’s disease is about to enter into our sanctuary.
“Welcome to unranked, fellow casual!” I hear Bobbie from down the hallway as zie greets this stranger, with a warm but teasing edge to hir words.
“So you’re like this offline too, gxrl?” The voice is familiar, an authoritative lilt with a hint of judgment in every syllable, pronouncing ‘gxrl’ with such confidence I’m almost convinced it’s a real word.
“Sure am. Come in, I’ll show you around the place!”
From the couch, I get a solid look at the mystery guest trailing behind Bobbie on the way to the kitchen table. Clad in fishnets and a bright red strappy top, a cardigan wisely worn on over it to deal with the dropping temperatures of the season, our guest’s straight, black hair and unmistakable attitude leave me… incredibly fucking confused.
Why the hell is Mingyu, the weird TA from my gender studies class, here for ‘server business’?
“Hey teach,” I prod at our guest, getting a glare in return.
“
You
?”
“It’s me, Tahani!” Finger guns, “your favourite—”
“Did you procure the most irritating person I know of just for this meeting?” My TA snaps at Bobbie, rudely cutting off my catchphrase once again.
“You know each other?” Bobbie looks genuinely surprised.
“Yeah we do!” I nod. “Also, Bobbie did way more than just ‘procure’ me, if you catch my drift.” I punctuate my comment with finger guns and an eyebrow wiggle. It’s crucial, of course, to assert that I let this conniving nord raid my churches on the regular.
“I don’t give a shit about your drift.” The cranky academic looks over to Bobbie again. “Finding you wasn’t easy, and I’d prefer not to waste my time here.”
“Yes, let’s get to it. Have a seat.” Bobbie gestures to the table and they both sit down. “Now, Laura the Impenetrable, rumored to be the
former
champion of Ranked Competitive Breast Growth…”
Wait—
Laura
?
“...What services do you seek from my associates and I?” Bobbie concludes with a little flourish, grinning as zie says this, clearly not mistaken as Laura seems completely unperturbed at being addressed in this way.
“I want Emmy back. You and your ‘associates’ have gotten people out of the server’s culture before, correct?”
“With some significant effort, yes.” Bobbie leans back, stroking hir chin all contemplative. “I should warn you, targeting individuals rarely yields the desired results, present company notwithstanding.”
“Don’t underestimate my commitment here.” Laura the Impenetrable speaks with unshakeable confidence. “I will
burn
all of Ranked Competitive Breast Growth to the ground, if I have to.”