Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Your family, or the rabble. Your choice, Sebastian."

He wouldn't. Father wouldn't go that far.

Except she knew better. He wasn't above regularly abusing his son. He wasn't above punching her in the jaw. He wasn't above threatening Mother.

And now, he was going to cast Sebastian aside like yesterday's garbage.

She looked at him, perhaps for the final time.

He was soaked to the bone, his cotton suit clinging to his skeletal frame. Those prominent circles around his eyes. Those eyes, wide and world weary.

He was too skinny, too frail to last by himself for long. Either he would starve, get beaten by some unsavoury sorts of people or worse. He knew this.

So why was he running away from them? Where was he running to, if not his own demise?

"So that's it. You're choosing the rabble over your own family? Fine, don't come back! You are no longer-"

She wasn't fully sure what made her sprint after him. Maybe, she felt responsible for this whole situation. Maybe, in that moment, her concern for her brother outweighed her sense of self-preservation.

Whatever the case, she ran after him, ignoring Father's threats and the biting chill of the night air.

.

Lydia huffed as she ran after her brother. She wasn't unfit by any means, but she was a music major, not an athlete. She could already feel a cramp forming in her stomach.

She tried to call after him, but the sound of the busy traffic drowned out her pleas for him to slow down. The rain and thunder didn't help.

Did he even know she was following him?

She could barely see him as she gave chased. By the time she turned a corner, she would briefly see him doing the same. If she stopped for even a second to catch her breath, she would lose him.

"Sebastian! Wait!"

If he heard her, he gave no indication. He kept on running. This time however, his destination became apparent. There were no roads left for him to go down…

Except for the one that led to the trailer park.

She heard many a ghastly tale about these parts, mainly from her father, and to a lesser extent, Ralph. It was a run down slum filled with every kind of broken person. Drunkards. Drug Addicts. The hopelessly destitute and the washed up rabble of the world.

She supposed that they fit into that category now.

She followed him into the trailer park, not slowing down despite the ever worsening cramps.

Thankfully, mercifully, he had stopped running by the time she had caught up with him.

He stood in front of the door of a particular trailer. He looked pensive, with his hand raised gingerly, as if he were afraid to knock.

"Sebastian!"

He yelped before falling back into a puddle of mud, coating both of them in even more filth.

Lydia groaned. Of course there was a mud puddle there and of course her brother would fall into it. She was pretty sure some got into her mouth. Ugh.

Speaking of her brother, he was staring at her as if for the first time, as if her presence was some unexplainable event.

"...Lydia? Why are you here? Did Father send you?" He flashed that smile of his.

Smiles usually meant something positive, but with Sebastian, it meant nothing. It was a recent enough development, this nearly ever-present grimace of a smile.

But the way his eye twitched, the way he showed more gum than tooth, it told her enough.

He was trying very hard to restrain himself.

But what was he trying to restrain? Anger? That made the most sense. If she hadn't slipped up when she did, they would both be at home right now.

They would still have a home.

"No, dad didn't send me. I… wanted to make sure you're OK."

"Oh. Well, as you can see, I am perfectly fine. No cause for alarm. You should return home. Its late."

Another eye twitch.

"You're homeless, wet and covered in mud."

"This isn't mud."

"...What is it then?"

He smiled simply. "It's muck. There's a difference."

He sat unblinking in the mud- er, muck puddle, as if he was content to sit in a pile of wet dirt.

She stared at him. He stared at her.

He was fucking with her. After all this, he somehow had the strength, no, the balls to fuck around. She didn't know whether to be amused, impressed or aggravated.

So, she defaulted to feeling aggravated.

"Well, whatever it is, get out of it. And why are we here, anyway?"

"I'm here because this is the only place I can possibly stay. You are here because you wanted to check up on me. You have done that, so you should return home!" He said. He sounded so damn chipper about it, basically politely telling her to fuck off.

"Wha- Go home…? Sebastian-"

"Glam."

"What?"

"My name is Glam."

Was she hearing right?

"...Glenn?"

"Glam."

"...Glam." She deadpanned.

The door to the caravan swung open, nearly hitting Lydia in the face.

"Glam! What the heck are you doing, you psycho? It's like, 10:30. Why are you sitting in a muck puddle? Get up before you catch a cold or something. Jeez."

It was the cretin from college. The one her brother allegedly met near a dumpster.

Of course he lived in a dump like this.

"Okay."

Lydia tisked. So that's how it was. Sebastian- 'Glam' will listen to this street urchin, but not her.

The urchin turned his attention to her.

"Heyyy, you're Glam's sister, aincha? What's up? Didn't expect to see you here."

Neither did she.

"She was just leaving, Chive." Sebastian gave her a pointed look.

She felt indignation overtake her.

"What home!? I don't have a home! I'm pretty sure that was one of the many things dad screamed at me when I went after you! I'm not leaving you behind anymore!"

That last line surprised the both of them.

For a while, all was silent, save for the nearby sound of cars passing by and the occasional gunshot.

Until 'Chive' spoke up.

"...Uh, okay, like, I have no idea what is going on right now. You two wanna fill me in while we're Inside? It's cold as fuck and I need to take a piss."

Chapter Text

The gutter boy- Ches, had graciously allowed them both to stay in his caravan for the foreseeable future. It was alien to her, how nonchalant he was about it, as if letting them both stay wasn't a huge decision. He even supplied them with dry, albeit oversized clothing.

The only stipulation was-

"Try not to make much noise around my Ma. She has a nasty habit of hurling bottles."

Lydia wisely decided to say nothing, though her brother's unsettling stare may have had an impact.

.

"Uh, we kind of have only one spare mattress. You two don't mind sharing one, yeah?"

Lydia's eye twitched. A mattress? That thing wasn't a mattress, it was a glorified ice-cream wafer. She sat on yoga-mats thicker than this thing.

And she had to share it with Sebastian?

Oh joy.

Still, she couldn't complain.

As in, she literally couldn't complain. Throughout the entire "house tour" as Ches put it, 'Glam' was giving her this look. This 'just go ahead and complain' look.

So she kept quiet. He had barely relented on trying to get her to leave. She didn't want to push things. This was her fault, anyway. As disgusting as this place was, she had no right to complain.

That didn't make it any harder to suppress a shudder with every unpleasant new development.

.

It was hard to sleep. Not because of Ches' snoring. Not because of the sounds of the TV in the next room. It wasn't even having to share a single blanket with her brother, a far departure from her luxury silk sheets and queen-sized bed.

It was that tiny little voice in her head, telling her she shouldn't have ran after him.

'He doesn't even want you here. And you sure as hell don't want to be here.' It said.

She couldn't dispute either point. They weren't ever all that close. Not since they were both young kids, at least. And now, he probably wanted to cut all ties with his family, her included.

She wasn't any better than her dad, in a way. She didnt start things, but she surely didn't help. Any time Sebastian had floundered, she joined in on the family derision.

She couldn't blame him.

Moreover, was she really even helping him? What could she do to help him? What could she do to help herself? College was out. Father had likely cut the funding. She couldn't do much without a degree. Unless she got some… custodial job, slinging fried meats to swarms of cross-eyed gutter people.

The thought was enough to make her tear up.

"You are not asleep."

She jumped. She rolled on her side to face her brother, who was wide awake. From the light that leaked into the room through the half-shuttered blinds, she could vaguely make out his form.

"Neither are you."

"Why did you follow me?" He asked, ignoring her prior statement. He did that a lot lately. He was a lot more direct, every statement or question was blunt, delivered with an unassuming, lilting cadence.

So, why did she follow him?

Atonement. Atonement was one reason. She was doing all this to make up for her actions that led them to this point.

Concern. They didn't get along. That didn't mean she wanted to see him dead. As far as she knew at the time, he had nowhere to go and nobody to help him. Not following was tantamount to letting him die.

Fear. She had been using him as a buffer. Her father couldn't slap her around if he was too busy slapping her brother around. She wouldn't be able to handle her father without nobody to distract him.

Punishment. She did this. She caused this. She deserved whatever happened to him and then some. She was a bad sister. A bad person.

It was hard for her to put these into a few succinct sentences. But she tried.

"I… I thought you were going to die out here. And it would have been my fault. Letting you go would have been the final nail in the coffin for all the times I've let you down. I've let you down a lot. I'm not doing that any more."

"I see." He said simply.

Was that it? Was that all he had to say? She couldn't read him. Not anymore. It was frustrating.

"So…?"

"We're good."

"What?"

"We're good."

"Just like that?"

"Yep. Just like that."

She couldn't comprehend him. Two hours ago, he was trying to shoo her off. And now, she was forgiven so easily?

"...Sebastian, I-"

"Glam."

"Hmm?"

"My name is Glam."

"Oh right. Sorry… Glam."

"It's all right. We're good."

She giggled despite herself.

"Thanks… Glam."

"You're welcome."

A comfortable silence drifted between them, for a time.

"So, why Glam?"

He looked her in the eyes intently, as if he was about to let her in on some grand secret.

And then, a series of strange rhytmic noises erupted from his mouth.

Something like 'djoo-ju-ju-djoo… djoo-djoo'.

That didn't answer anything.

She raised an eyebrow.

"What does that even mean?"

"Tommorrow. I'll show you tomorrow."

"...Okay…?"

"Goodnight, Lydia."

She smiled.

"Goodnight."

.

Ches smiled from his bed. Those two worked out their beef faster than he thought they would. He expected at least a few days of awkward sibling interaction.

Not that it was too surprising. From what he saw, his sis was basically an older Glam, but with tits. Only, it was the Glam he met outside the trash bin.

The Glam that didn't know how to cut loose yet. The Glam that still had those hackles raised.

Still, Ches knew a good person when he saw one. Lydia just needed some time to figure shit out like Glam did.

He closed his eyes, ready to sink into a deep slumber.

"...Fuck. I gotta take a piss."

Now he would have to get out of bed, evade a land mine of empty bottles and avoid waking up his land-whale bitch of a mother.

Great.

Chapter Text

“Explain yourself. What is this… noise you keep making?”

Glam had his hands on some kind of record. It wasn’t Bach or Beethoven or anything she had seen before. The words “Twisted Sister” were emblazoned onto the center of the disk. There was a giddiness in his eyes, a kind of shine she wasn’t used to seeing. He looked around before he next spoke, as if he was delivering some Earth-shattering revelation that was meant only for her ears.

“This is glam metal. Ches showed it to me.”

“Well, alright. Are you going to actually play it, or are you just going to continue smiling to yourself like a loon?”

He frowned. Right. This wasn’t like at home. New home meant a new Lydia. That meant she had to dispense with the insults. She had to dispense with a lot so far.

“Right. Sorry. I’m… not used to this. Any of this.”

Glam’s frown softened.

“We’re good.” He repeated. He smiled before finally setting up the record player.

What followed was this shrill, cacophonous sound. It was loud and heavy, accompanied by rhythmic drumming and strange vocals. It was the furthest thing from the classical music she had grown up playing.

As it played, Glam watched her with anticipation. Like he was expecting something. What this was, Lydia did not know, but the song soon ended and she felt no different. It wasn’t terrible, she supposed. It took some talent to play, she guessed. Alas, it didn’t grip her the way it seemed to with him and Ches. It certainly didn’t make her want to change her name after it.

“I… don’t think I get it.”

He looked disheartened for a moment. Then, he smiled. “Okay. That’s fair.”

.

Lydia had managed to get a job in a nearby vinyl store. It should have been easy enough. She was a high class musician, being well acquainted with the classics.

Her interaction with Glam’s namesake should have forewarned her to the fact that music did not begin and end with Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat major. No, the tastes of the common masses were eclectic as they were utterly alien. Rock and roll. Pop. Country. Rap. She understood none of it. None of it matched the complexity of classical music, either. But it was what the customers wanted, so she had to learn fast.

Most requests were simple enough. The customer would give her an album title or a band name and she would look through the CD racks until she had found it. That was another thing that surprised her. CDs. Much smaller than vinyl. Cheaper, too. The method of listening to music for the plebeians. Which now included her and Glam.

Putting aside her distressing new place in the social order, it wasn’t anything outlandishly difficult. For the most part. Every now and then, a difficult customer would show up, with nothing but a few lyrics or an imitation of a riff to go on.

At that point, it became a game of restraint. Much harder than plucking disks. She had to smile and nod politely as the customers would get increasingly frustrated with her utter lack of familiarity with the works of Alice Cooper or Whitesnake. At that point, the customer would either leave or her boss would intervene.

Out of all the strangely dressed people she had seen in the three weeks of her working there, Lydia’s boss was the strangest of them all. His name was Peter and he liked to wear these shirts with many colors and intricate patterns on them. He talked with a soft-spoken drawl and smelled of burned leaves and sandalwood. His office was filled with unfamiliar memorabilia and Jefferson Airplane vinyls.

He would address her as ‘Lyds’ and walk around the store barefoot. He wasn’t someone Father would approve of, that’s for sure. That in of itself made her like him more.

“Hey, Lyds, I need you to unpack these and put them where they’re supposed to be.” He said, gesturing to a box full of newly shipped CDs.

“Yes sir.” She tore the tape off the box and pulled back the flaps, half wondering what was in the box.

It was all the same album. Some cover with a naked baby swimming towards a dollar sign on it. How crass.

“Nirvana…?”

“It’s really popular in America right now. So, I ordered a ton of them. Here, you can have one, if you want.”

She gave one of the disks another lookover. Did she really want one of these? She had no idea what was inside this thing. With a cover like that, it had to be something really out there. She couldn’t deny, she was at least mildly curious. Besides, if there was anything she had since getting kicked out, it was that free was free.

“Sure. Thank you, Peter.” She stuffed the case into her oversized hoodie pocket.

“Heh. Don’t mention it.”

.

Being a clerk came with a lot of people watching. Lydia would see people come in and out throughout the day just to browse their selection. It provided her with an excuse to watch them from the corner of her eye. It really was the only form of entertainment she had during work.

She was getting used to things, albeit slowly. She was learning to adapt to her new life, learning to adapt to these people. Their tastes. Their wants. Their loose fitting fashion and baggy clothes.

If she was being honest, she still missed many aspects of her old life. She missed her comfortable queen-sized bed, her horseback riding lessons and most of all, her violin that she would never get to play again. She missed not having to worry about managing money and having her own clothes to wear. She missed all of it.

Ultimately, though, she had made her choice. She placed her brother above herself, something she never anticipated doing before. She didn’t care about him before. At least, that’s what she told herself as she watched Father beat his wrist with a ruler time and time again.

…Good god, she was a terrible person, wasn’t she?

An album hitting the counter snapped her out of her self-deprecating thoughts.

On the other end of the counter was a girl with black hair done up in a ponytail.

“Just this.” She said as she looked downwards.

The first word to come into Lydia’s mind was ‘tall’. The second word to come was ‘beautiful’. She had piercings in both ears and black painted lips. She reminded Lydia of those supermodels she would see in Ches’ magazines.

“Um… yes. That’ll be… a thousand rubles.”

The tall woman produced a note and placed it on the table.

“There you go. Thanks.”

Lydia watched her go. It wasn’t until she left that she let go a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

What the hell was that just now?

Chapter Text

The first thing Lydia purchased with her hard earned cash that wasn’t groceries, was a badly damaged Discman for two-thousand rubles. It’s been two weeks since she’d been given the Nirvana CD by Peter and she hadn’t been able to listen to it. Unfortunately, Ches did not have anything that could play the darned thing. He had offered to ‘acquire’ one for her, but one look from Glam had told her it was a bad idea, so she refused.

Father would never let her keep something like this. He did not like modern technology. Their house did not have a TV in it for that very reason. She felt like she was holding onto contraband. As she made it through the streets and back towards the trailer park, she kept the device close to her chest.

It was late in the day. The boys were out, either partying or performing a gig somewhere. That’s what Glam did for money now. He played his ‘glam rock’ on the street for coins. It burned away at her pride. Surely they deserved better than this. She wanted better than this. And yet, she still couldn’t square away the feeling that no, this was exactly what she got for letting things go this far.

She took a deep breath. No, this wasn’t terrible. As far as things went, they had a roof over their heads. They had a stable enough income. She should be thankful for that much.

Ches’ mother was sleeping in her armchair. The glow of the TV bathed her in a white light. Lydia could see every stain on her shirt. She was torn on her opinion of the woman. On one hand, she was volatile. Her mood shifted depending on how drunk she was and how much alcohol they had remaining. Lydia had quickly learned to keep the fridge stocked to avoid any incidents, as much as it strained her budget.

On the other hand, she let them stay. Whether it was out of kindness or indifference, Lydia did not know. Lydia was thankful, either way.

Or, trying to be, at least.

.

She had everything at the ready. The discman. The disc itself. Two double-A batteries and a pair of tattered earphones. She had herself wrapped in a thin blanket as if it were a cowl. It felt like she was performing a forbidden ritual.

She hit the play button. The CD started spinning.

.

Lydia remembered her first time being utterly charmed by music. She must have been four or five. It was her earliest memory, watching her mother perform the violin from behind a slightly ajar door. She could see just enough to see who was playing. It was wonderful. It filled her with feelings that a five year old could not hope to explain. Even at her current age, she did not dare to reduce the experience down to mere words. It was everything she had ever wanted.

Now, while huddled up atop her and Glam’s makeshift bed, sitting in near darkness as the blue hour approached, she was falling in love with music all over again.

Lydia lost count of how many times she had played and replayed the album. As far as she was aware, nothing really existed except for her and the melancholic distorted harmonies of Nirvana.

Nothing else existed, until she felt a hand grasp her shoulder.

Lydia let out an undignified yelp, accidentally yanking the earphones out of the music player.

“Lydia? What are you doing up so late? It’s two in the morning.” Glam said.

“Whuh? When did you get back?”

“Five minutes ago. What’s that you got there?”

“I saw it on the way home. It plays CDs.”

“And you’ve been here since you got home?”

“That is correct. What of it?” She snipped.

Glam noticed the case that was off to the wayside. “So you finally got to listen to it. How did you find it?”

“...Sebastian, the fact that I could have potentially gone through my whole life without hearing this is an injustice.”

Glam laughed. “Glad you found it then.”

.

Cooking wasn’t something she did often at home. Most of the cooking went to Ralph. Of course, her father made sure that she at least knew her way around the kitchen. Because in his eyes, it would be an embarrassment if she were to get married off some day and not know how to cook.

Regardless of her reasons for learning, it was something she enjoyed well enough. There was a relaxing element to it that kept her otherwise busy mind occupied. Now, she had greater agency than before. She could cook whatever she wanted, provided she could afford the ingredients.

She had settled on spaghetti. It was something they only had once in the Shvagenbagen household, but Lydia was rather fond of it. The ingredients were cheap enough and she could afford to make a lot of it for everyone else.

“Hey you. What are you doing over there?” Ches’ mother called, straining her neck to face Lydia’s general direction in a way that brought forth images of snails peering out of their shells.

“I’m making dinner. Would you like some?”

“Why are you cooking? We have fast food for that.”

“Well, it’s cheaper this way. We can’t have takeout every night.”

“Why the fuck not?” Agitation seeped into her tone.

Thankfully, before Lydia could say anything that could land her in hot water, another voice entered the conversation. “It’s simply not healthy to consume that amount of fried food.” Glam said. Lydia raised a brow. She didn’t even notice him entering the room. He must have been listening from Ches’ room, waiting to get involved if the need arose.

“Bullshit. I’ve been eating like this for five years and I’m still kicking.”

Lydia frowned. “At least try some spaghetti, miss.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. Glam tugged his collar, as if he were anticipating some great fight.

“Tch. Fine. I’ll eat your fancy cookin’ for tonight.” With that, she leaned back into her armchair. “Oh, and get me a beer.”

Another potential disaster avoided. For now.

Chapter Text

Clothes.

Lydia used to wear only the finest designer clothing. Her wardrobe was a culmination of Earth’s most valued garments. High heels from Milan. Coats from Paris. Dresses straight from New York. Only the best for a Shvagenbagen. Nothing short of the highest quality materials were allowed to grace her collection. She would not demean herself by wearing faux fur or fake pearls. Everything had to be genuine.

It’s been a while since she touched base with the old Lydia. The other, crueller Lydia. She was still there, somewhere deep inside. One couldn’t unlearn years of behaviour so quickly. No, all this time she had merely been suppressing it. With every insult withheld, every malicious thought quashed, she was closer to being a better version of herself.

Suppression could only go so far. She needed a way to bridge the old with the new. A way to merge the two together. A way to placate the ghost before it can pass on.

So, she went clothes shopping.

She couldn’t afford what she once did. Even regular stores were too costly now. It was a week’s worth of shopping for a simple ensemble. It was no good.

Thankfully, she knew where to go by now. The same place where she got her barely functioning CD player.

At the local thrift store.

It wasn’t far from where she worked, so she had many opportunities to pop inside and browse the selection. Only now did she think to start buying clothes from there. She was tired of wearing Ches’ old hoodies and such.

The selection was eclectic. Old sweaters, novelty t-shirts, wife-beaters all occupied the same rack. If she wanted to graduate beyond hand-me-downs, this is all she had to work with. She found herself scowling at it. The old Lydia would never give these the time of day. Now, she had no choice.

She slowly started sifting through her options. A pink dress caught her eye. No, too bright. A pair of shorts? Too revealing. What’s next? A Nirvana t-shirt. Beneath the band’s name sat their logo. A smiley face with crossed out eyes.

She looked at the price. Then back to the shirt itself.

It wasn’t elegant by any means. Dad would never have approved. Still, it beckoned to her. Surely she could make it work? She wanted to make it work.

She threw it over her shoulder, the first purchase of many. She didn’t know it at the time, but it would eventually become her favourite shirt.

.

Her first time being led into a nightclub was a night Lydia would go on to remember forever. It was like being dragged into a whole new world. The music was deafening and the lights were dim. The scant lighting caught the party goers at strange, frightening angles. The only thing tethering her to the other world was Glam’s firm grip. But like an umbilical cord, even that sole source of support was to be severed.

One minute, he was leading her further into the crowd. The next, he was nowhere to be seen amongst the dancing, writhing masses.

She was alone in a sea of madness.

At first, she was furious. How dare he desert her like this! Was this payback for her treatment over the years? Surely not. Surely they had both moved on by now. So what was this, then? Some kind of test?

She waded through the crowd carefully. It would be all too easy to trip and fall here. She didn’t want to think of the medical costs that would accrue.

She didn’t know where she was heading, only that she needed to find somewhere to collect herself. The clashing sounds and sights were flooding her senses. She needed a space to breathe.

There. Just visible past the swaths of people, an oasis. A bar. All she had to do now was dodge the remaining elbows and thrashing teens.

She threw herself upon the red bar stool as if she had just completed some great trial.

She ordered a Coke. The bartender nodded and came back with a glass bottle of the stuff.

As she quietly sipped on her straw, she idly watched the crowd. There was nothing else to do, after all. It was a few minutes later that something caught her eye. Movement that did not match the flow of the others. Shoving. Pushing. Lydia could have sworn she saw fists fly.

Then, like a bone stuck in the throat of a dog, something was unceremoniously spat out of the crowd and into Lydia’s direction. Someone, rather. A girl about her age. As in, someone who also probably shouldn’t be here.

The first thing that caught Lydia’s attention was her eyes. Blue eyes that were looking up at her with a rage-filled intensity. It was only now that she had thought to offer the blue-eyed girl her hand.

“Put it back. It’s not the first time I've been knocked on my ass.”

She picked herself off the floor and took the vacant seat next to Lydia, who took this opportunity to examine the other girl further.

The mystery girl was wearing some sort of school uniform. Lydia was surprised that she managed to get this far without getting thrown out. The sleeves were ripped off and the pants had tears in them. It was hard to tell whether or not the holes were intentional. Judging by her personality, it could have gone either way. Her makeup was thick, with black rings around her eyes and her hair was done into a singular braid.

Lydia wasn’t aware of how intently she was staring until the other girl noticed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like what?” Lydia asked as she took another sip of her drink.

“Like you’re checking me out.”

Before she knew it, she was choking on soda.

“Excuse me?” She wasn’t doing anything of the sort! That would imply… well, a lot of things that Lydia was simply not comfortable with. Implications she wanted nothing to do with.

“You heard me the first time. Or are you still in the closet?”

“...I have no idea what that means.”

The braided girl simply snickered to herself. “Don’t worry. You’ll find out sooner or later. I can tell these things.”

Rather than push the topic any further, she stuck her hand out. “Name’s Anna, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I am Lydia Schvagenbagen. Do you come here often?”

The girl snickers again. Apparently she must have said something amusing. Again.

“‘Do you come here often?’ she asks. Are you doing this on purpose?”

“I assure you, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m not even sure why I’m here. This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Anna grinned. “Oh, a newbie, huh? I can give you a few reasons to stick around. C’mon.” She jumped from the barstool and offered Lydia a hand.

Lydia hesitated for an instant. Curiosity won out over caution, however, and she took her hand.

.

“Hey, Glam. Is that your sister?”

Glam turned his head to see Lydia in the mosh pit with some other girl. As she thrashed around, Lydia meekly imitated her movements.

“Yes. She looks to be enjoying herself.”

“Righteous.”

.

It took Lydia longer than she was proud of to get used to this whole ‘mosh-pit’ thing. Even if the whole point of it was to move around aggressively, she could never pull it off like Anna could. The girl was like a typhoon in that she wrecked everything in her path.

“I need a fucking drink after that. Some man-beast elbowed me in the jaw.”

“You got as good as you were given.” Lydia comments.

“Yeah, yeah. Do you want another Coke or what?”

“Sure. If you’re offering.”

Lydia was too preoccupied with her new friend to realize she had basically accepted a hand-out. At this point in her life, Lydia might not have cared.

Anna ordered the drinks, sliding a bank note down on the table. It was five-thousand rubles.

“That’s a lot for two drinks.”

“My father is rich in money but poor in sense. It’s no issue.”

“I know what that’s like…”

Anna’s features softened. “You too, huh?”

The bartender sat the drinks on the table. Anna grabbed hers and held it aloft.

“To us and our shitty dads, then.”

Lydia snickered. “To us.”

.

Chapter Text

It was a slow day at the music store. Probably because it was cold as hell outside. Hardly anyone wanted to even go outside, let alone venture into the middle of town to get the latest Niel Young album. Still, she spotted a few people walking by, clutching their umbrellas or holding their hoods over their heads. Right. It was half past ten on a Saturday. People were probably on their way back from church. She paid them no mind, simply flicking through a random magazine that Peter had laying around.

In retrospect, she should have seen it coming, what happened next.

“...Lydia? Is that you?”

She jumped. Oh no. Not now. Preferably not ever, but certainly not now. She looked up at the blonde woman, giving her a strained smile.

“Hello, moth- I mean… Hi.” She didn’t know where she stood with her mother, Mary, and in that way, it made things all the more frightening. At least she had a good idea on where she stood with her father. Anger. Disdain. Disappointment. He would probably take one look at her in her Nirvana t-shirt and black eyeliner and lipstick and sneer at her. Maybe even get physical. But what would Mary do? She didn’t know what to expect, thus what to prepare for.

She had certainly not been expecting a hug.

“Oh Dochen’ka, I was worried sick! Where’s your brother? Is he here?”

“No, mother. He’s fine, though.” She was afraid to mention anything extra like where he was or what he was doing. She didn’t know if this conversation was going to make its way to her father.

“Are you two eating okay?”

“Yes, mother, we’re eating fine.”

Mary finally broke the hug and took a good look at her daughter.

“Heavens! What are you wearing? Such frightening makeup…” She wetted a finger and went to try and wipe off some of her mascara. Lydia pulled back.

“Mom, stop. This is just what I wear now.”

“It’s a good thing I came to church alone. I shudder to think what Gustav would say if he saw you.” There was disapproval in her eyes, but it was softened by her motherly affection.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to know either. It’s better if you don’t tell him you saw me.”

“Oh, Dochen’ka… This isn’t right. You should be at home. Maybe if I talk with him, he’ll-”

“Don’t. Please. It’s better for all of us this way.”

“Better? How could this be better?” Mary looked like she was about to cry.

“Glam- I mean Sebastian doesn’t have to worry about dad beating him anymore. Neither do I.”

“He hit you too? Oh God above…” She was crying now. She was crying and Lydia had no idea what to do or what to say. She awkwardly placed her hand on her grieving mother’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Dochen’ka. I can’t do anything to stop him.”

“It’s-” Lydia stopped herself from saying that it was alright. It wasn’t. But that didn’t mean that she could blame her. Lydia was guilty of the same behaviors as her mother was. Arguably more so, she’d wager.

“It will be okay. We’re doing fine now. And Sebastian is performing at venues now.” She chose to carefully leave out what venues and with what instrument. Mother didn’t need to worry about the details. Not now.

Mary sniffled. “My little sinok… Take care of him, okay?”

Lydia nodded. “I will.”

.

Lydia looked up at the sign. It read ‘Gregori’s needle and ink studio’. She gulped.

“I don’t know about this, Anna.”

Anna shot her an unimpressed look, her arms crossed and her head tilted slightly. “What are you afraid of? It’s just a needle.”

“It’s just some guy I don’t know punching a hole into my cartilage. Yeah, why worry?” She said sarcastically.

“Do you want me to hold your hand while you do it?” Anna mocked, her voice dripping with faux-sweetness.

“...Let’s just get this over and done with.” Lydia grumbled.

.

In the end, Lydia got a single piercing placed on the lower bridge of her nose. All it took was a few seconds of agonizing tension and a vice-grip on Anna’s hand, which she did end up holding. Mercifully, Anna did not bring it up.

It’s been a couple of weeks since they first met and Anna had been a welcome part of her life since. It was her who talked Lydia into getting a piercing.

“I already have, like, six of them.” She had gloated. “About damn time you got your first.”

“My mother would freak out if she saw me like this.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s she like?”

Lydia chose her next words carefully. “...She tries her best.”

“Ah. I see.”

“And yours?”

“Dead.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. I was too young to really know her. My bumbling father doesn’t talk about it much.”

“Is your dad okay with all of your piercings?” Lydia asked in an attempt to change the topic.

“He doesn’t care. He once told me that I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I didn’t come back pregnant. I told him he didn’t need to worry about that ever happening.”

Lydia was used to Anna’s distrust of men by now. She had gotten snippets of information here and there that told her the men in Anna’s life weren’t exactly great people. It made her feel all the more grateful to have Glam and Ches around.

“Wow… That’s cruel.”

“I think I got it better than most, honestly. I think if I had to grow up in your shoes, I would have gone mad.”

“You would have probably knocked my Father’s teeth out of his mouth by now.”

“I definitely wouldn’t mind trying.”

They shared a laugh. Then, a comfortable silence took over.

“...Hey.” Anna called.

“What is it?” Asked Lydia.

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“Everything. I’m not used to having someone I can talk to about shit like this.”

There was something so unguarded in Anna’s smile that made something in Lydia’s chest melt. Before she knew what she was doing, she had cupped her cheek.

“Think nothing of it.”

Anna froze. Then Lydia realized what she was doing and froze too. She retracted her hand like she had touched a hot surface.

Lydia stammered for something to say. Anything. An excuse. A rationalization. But nothing came, for she herself did not know what provoked such odd behaviour in her. She felt embarrassed.

Then, Anna spoke. “Jesus, your hands are cold.”

Chapter Text

She had replayed that moment over and over in her mind. That moment where she touched Anna’s face unprompted. Anna did not seem to mind, but for Lydia, it was a catalyst for a full-blown identity crisis.

Why did she do that? What was she thinking? She knew that answering either of those questions would be opening doors that she could not close.

So, instead she lay on her makeshift bed, staring into the ceiling. She didn’t have much time to mope around before her brother took notice.

“Hey Lydia! Is there something the matter?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? What was wrong, really? Was it that she had some sort of… intense moment with Anna that she can’t properly describe? Some inexplicably scandalous moment that made her heart palpitate and her stomach flip? Was it delirium? Sickness? Or was something wrong with her? She struggled to get the words out.

“I think… I might be ill.”

“Ill how?” He asked.

“I’m not acting properly. I made a fool of myself in front of Anna yesterday and I don’t know why.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Tell me more.”

“I’m afraid to. I feel like I might say or do something I can’t put back, but I don’t know what.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the specifics of it.” He hadn’t stopped smiling the entire time he entered the room. It was like an intense ray of light in a dark cave. Blinding. Annoyingly so.

She turned over to face away from him. “I don’t know… it was just me and Anna as usual. We were talking and… something came over me at that moment. I felt my heart melt in my chest when I looked at her. Next thing I knew, I was caressing her cheek.”

She covered her face in embarrassment. “Ugh! Why did I even do that!?”

Glam ignored her outburst, taking a hand to his chin. “Hmm… I have a good theory on what it might be, but I suggest you talk to Ches about it first.”

She looked up in confusion. “Why Ches?”

“You’ll see why when you talk to him.” He said simply, before leaving the room.

.

She couldn’t believe she was going to do this. It was already a strain to tell her own brother this, let alone someone she had barely any interaction with. They talked here and there, but it was never about anything meaningful. Ches was Glam’s friend, not hers. They didn’t really ‘hang out’ as much. Maybe that’s something to work on, if he can help her stop spinning around in her own head.

“Hey, chica. Glam said you wanted to ask me something?” He tuned his guitar as he spoke.

Lydia scratched the side of her arm while struggling to look him in the eye. “Yeah… well…”

She reiterated what she said to Glam earlier. As she did, Ches nodded sagely.

“Ah, I see. You got a crush on your friend.”

Lydia stiffened. “What?”

“Oh yeah, totally. What else could it be?”

“But we’re both girls.”

“Yeah, and?”

And what? That was it. Girls can't fall in love with girls.

…Can they?

“Is that a thing?” She ventured.

“Yeah. Remember Sasha from the auditions? The one with the cello?”

Lydia vaguely remembered some blonde haired woman who performed reasonably well.

“I think so. Why?”

“She was totally bent. I asked her out and she told me as much.”

“...Huh. She didn’t look any different.”

“Why would she? That shit doesn’t matter, man.”

“Why haven’t I heard of this until now?”

Ches shrugged. “To be fair, princess, you and Glam grew up pretty sheltered.”

She couldn’t deny that. Their time was mostly taken up with practicing and studies. What little of a social life she did have consisted of similarly socially stunted individuals. That aside though, was this really okay? Was she actually attracted to women? This felt like a revelation, one she wasn’t entirely sure about.

“What should I do, Ches?”

“Whatever you want, really. That’s for you to decide.”

For her to decide… She found herself doing a lot of that in these past few months. But this felt different. It felt important. She needed to think about this carefully.

“I’m gonna go for a walk around town.”

“Cool. See ya for dinner?”

“Sure.”

.

The town side was composed of bleak, boxy buildings that were anywhere from bungalows to five-story apartments. Some of the buildings looked like they were holdovers from the soviet era. These brutalist structures with their evenly spaced windows allocating almost every square of the buildings’ faces. Like a thousand eyes, some shuttered, others not.

The people were similarly varied between the lean youths and the hobbling elderly, different in everything from posture to the clothes on their backs. They walked differently. They thought differently. They lived differently.

She had no destination in mind, simply content to walk around until her brain could digest her woes. Until then, she spent her time silently passing through the crowds.

She thought of Anna. She thought of the time they spent together and what that really meant to her. She thought of their last moment together and what she would do if her inhibitions hadn’t stopped her.

Would she have gone further? What did ‘further’ mean in this context?

Her mind painted the picture before she could protest. She imagined placing a kiss on Anna’s lips.

She felt her face heat up. The thought was overwhelming, yet… exciting? A dopey grin formed on her face. She rushed to hide it, looking around self-consciously at the crowd of indifferent people.

So, she wasn’t opposed to the idea of romantic affairs with a woman. That was for sure. But was Anna?

She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. If she wanted to know, the best thing to do would be to ask her outright.

Next time she saw Anna, Lydia promised to herself.