Chapter Text
Tina
“Hi, I have so much to tell you about.”
Tina’s voice memo starts recording. It was a good idea to charge her phone before she left the office, already recalling the events of her day while recording them in her voice-memo-diary thing.
“Tell…talk? Wait, that would need another person listening, or responding, I think…” She rambled on. It would be so much easier if it was handwritten back in her diary-slash-journal (since that was the more mature, responsible sounding term). Tina was a natural with a pen, unlike this improvised narration to a tiny microphone only feeding back with a sound wave.
This is despicable, almost like an insult to her younger years, she would be so disappointed with me—but enough of that, Tina thought.
This was the only way to continue recording everything going on in her fast-paced routine of running off wherever her superiors ask her to, and wherever her inspirations take her. This should be normal for her, for someone working in broadcasting.
For a news anchor.
Tina held back a groan.
Last week, her executive producer and her other superiors finally gave in, promoting her to the position once held by who they called the best local news anchor that ever graced their newsroom—Tammy Larsen.
Ugh.
It wasn’t as if she wanted to be like her—god knows it isn’t—but the two of them always met in the same path, and now she walked in it right behind her, like a stupid (but pretty cute) shadow. From going to college together, to their internship, then meeting again at an interview for the local station; they were at each other’s necks with the blonde one always tilted slightly up high, always ready to catch everything Tina strained hers for. The slight resentment they held had remained, like in a frenemy state of mind, but eventually the two learned to work in the same environment.
It demanded a lot from them. This wasn’t the Wagstaff News playtime anymore. This was real, and the job was hard enough, so they never had time to bicker like before.
But there was that day with cake and balloons and banners for a surprise ‘going-away-and-good-luck-in-the-big-city-bye’ party, one she took part in organizing and would never mention to anyone alive how she felt slightly deflated yet proud to see her go. She was still somehow Tina’s friend, all these years, and they infuriatingly used to share the same dream: to make it in a New York local network newsroom someday, and Tammy was on her way to pursue hers.
“...and that was that. But, you see, recently, in the past year—oh no, that doesn’t sound recent. I guess I’ll…stick to it? Um, recently…”
Tina has been having a lot of little moments walking around town. Her boss had made her follow different beats every week, as she was in rotation with a few other reporters for the past 3 years—and some moments this year had been real damn charming; every single one had compelled her to stick around even more. What else could she uncover? What other new and unexplored places could be found? What other parts of their lovable beach town could be learned? Valued? There was so, so, so much more.
“...and it’s time for everyone to see that and pour more love into this place, damn it!” She regrets letting herself go too much as soon as she saw the driver side-eye her in the rear-view, but that was nothing to Tina—practically dust in comparison to how intense everyone is in a live newsroom—and daily, at that.
She gives a proud smile to herself quietly. One she can never replicate back in time with how badly she held her ground during today’s meeting.
It’s okay, Tina.
We can make better proposals. You have to believe in yourself. You know you love what you do, girl. You’re smart, sexy, kind, and did I say sexy?
“...They took one look at my presentation! That wasn’t enough time to go through 10 more slides. I think. Do they read that fast? Maybe they trained to, or at least… professionally got used to it? But, fine, I guess they had a point…”
She always wanted her own segment, and her own show.
A lot of anchors in true news fashion stay loyal to their broadcasts and find that they’re content with being the face of news, whether it’s morning, afternoon, or primetime; content with the teleprompter, the script-reading, and relaxing as they get paid to read. It was a routine Tina had just been itching to grow out of—she doesn’t want her mind going stale and dry, she wants to keep going out there, to keep moving. Tina could not keep staying in that comfortable studio chair reading whatever was feeded to her.
It was a new day every day.
“...and that sounds like one of my Uncle Teddy’s old motivational posters…”
So what if they thought she was crazy to venture out into undiscovered territory of anchoring and doing her own locally themed magazine show? It was still technically news, and it was just as important in keeping yourself updated. Tina was decided on pushing it through, recording every idea that popped into her head, with the most recent proposition being Saturday Morning Adventures, an idea from her childhood spent with her rowdy siblings.
“...I even mentioned how I can work with co-hosts as guests, exploring undiscovered gems in our town, right? I can’t believe they would turn down an opportunity to collab with celebrities, like G1rls4ev3r…”
The rising girl group of the year. They were so cool and pretty and young, and so very helpful to any show’s ratings. Which was the keyword during that meeting; the table going as far as how Tammy on a bad day was an 8.9 and Tina’s best was a 6-ish, emphasizing how both broadcasts were in primetime.
Tina groans, being reminded of her updated schedule. From the afternoon news at the live studio an hour ago, at least she had time to spend at home for around 4 hours, maybe squeeze in that nap she had been trying to avoid since the 3 AM radio broadcast, then be back at the studio for the evening news back on the FM. Only her primetime anchor spot had been temporarily taken by Tammy’s nepo-baby partner from Kingshead Island.
It didn’t feel too uncomfortable, not when she was on a mission to propose something she’d been wanting to do her entire career.
Stressful as it may, this was right where she wants to be.
“...Today’s current update is cross-checking the articles forwarded by our head researcher, since the only other producer is on leave, and I have to do this three more times, to catch up on the sleeping that I have to do… something I can’t forget doing… before, um, another early morning broadcast tomorrow…”
Tina, suppressing another groan, checks her notifications. They left her alone for the afternoon. Maybe they were preparing to explode for later evening's shenanigans.
Thinking about it (repeatedly since the day she got the jobs, plural), it doesn't sound fair how she’s writing, producing her own news segments, and reporting for the newscasts at the same time—and those include the radio news. The only upside was the pay, which was the one thing that held proof of her juggling a lot of responsibilities under multiple positions that another person, maybe two more, should really handle.
Oh goddamn it, Tina.
You should treat this like it’s nothing! It’s practice for when you get to your dream of having to anchor and getting your own show to host at the same time! You think that business is easy? It’s probably way harder so you deal with this like a proper, independent, and capable lady.
“Well, whatever. I’ll get used to everything eventually. Probably. I’ll be okay. And it’s all gonna be fine. I’ll keep working hard, diary—uh, sorry, memo…? I… keep forgetting. Uh…still trying, to think of a, nickname…” Tina drags on, trying to cough up something for fitting for a journal-like voice memo.
Tina sighs. “I guess that’s all I have for today. I hope I can make this memo more entertaining next time.” She hits stop on the recording and by memory, almost shoves her phone in her non-existent blazer.
Right, I’ll have to pass by tomorrow at the dry cleaners. Wonder Wharf’s familiar silhouette greeted her at the end of the street, right after their stoplight.
Home was only 2 minutes away.
She can feel herself relaxing, preparing for a quick break at home, reaching for her cross-body duffel when her attention is taken by the cab’s screen panel up front; her driver was opening a notification from a YouTube subscription to a certain channel, and a video was starting to load.
…Is that…?
“Sorry, can you-”
“What?” The driver slightly turns her way.
“The, um, the video,” Tina points to the panel, making a gesture with her fingers. “If you could, maximize it, please.”
The driver does as she says. It was a sophisticated intro to a cooking vlog, with a few white jacket chefs that looked like they were in training…in fine dining training, obvious from the presented dishes from the cut to cut clips, with the last part of the introduction being a title wipe of ‘Blanc Boys’—then panning to someone who held the camera to his own face, called his co-trainees to wave at the screen, and who looked way too much like that summer boy she briefly snogged almost 15 years ago.
That BFOT she gently stole from Tammy.
Well, kinda stole…?
“Is that…Brett?” Tina gently whispers to herself, her eyes never leaving the screen, catching the very brief second after the intro when the video cuts to another chef, wearing a jacket that seems to be more refined than what the trainees wore, introduced with a flashed name tab just for him on the lower part of the video.
That’s…That’s–
The driver cuts right into her state of shock.
“Miss, we’re here.”
“Right, right,” She grabs her things hurriedly, trying to memorize the channel where the video was opened from, and doesn’t forget to thank the driver. Usually, she thinks about how that cab fare charge to her card is a waste whenever she can’t drive her scooter to the office, but not right now.
No, right now, she is way too occupied.
It was him, right?
Tina doesn’t notice how her Mom is missing from the counter in the middle of the afternoon with Louise in her spot, reading her college books diligently. She doesn’t notice her sister and Rudy both staring at her, waiting for her to greet them as she stares somewhere not there, trying to process what she just saw in the cab. Her stumbling also caught Bob’s attention in the kitchen, his voice finally pulling her away from a terrible zone out.
“Tina, honey,” Bob tries to call out. “I know you’re always tired but you’re going to hit the–”
“Wha-”
Louise’s hand grabs her arm over the counter right before she hits the ground. Tina was zoned out too much to notice that her foot was caught on one of the stools.
“...Thanks, Louise.”
“Anytime, daydreamer," Her sister eyes her, concerned but not serious enough for Tina to act defensive.
She knows me too well. “At least don’t get yourself in an accident of some sort. Imagine a news anchor in their own breaking news, oof. You know that’s gonna look bad for all of us.”
“Yeah, sorry…hi, Dad, I’m okay,” Tina says, with an awkward laugh before saying hi to Rudy. “Hey, Rudy. You thought of where to eat today?”
“Actually, Louise has a better idea.”
Rudy looks excited. This earned an eyebrow raise from her and a curious look from her Dad, watching from the pass-through. They both turn to the youngest Belcher and within a second, she’s over the counter and jumping off from a stool.
“It’s me, I’m the better idea!” Louise announces.
Bob sighs, almost amused. “Jumping on the counter isn’t, Louise. I told you to stop doing that.”
Her father doesn’t let it show, but more often than not, he had been smiling more at how Louise spends her time at the restaurant. He and Tina had also pieced two and two together: Louise and Rudy take Tina’s meals seriously.
She had been losing a lot of weight from all the schedule changes, and the only time she could eat a whole, proper meal was between lunch and dinner, which were non-existent meal times in the Belcher household because the restaurant had to be open and Tina has no available time to pretend to learn how to meal prep.
Since Rudy likes to do his virtual work from the restaurant (a block away from his new apartment, made possible only through Louise's approval), he’d been spending ‘lunch-dinner’ time with Tina, while waiting for his ‘we have no label, we swear’-partner and friend, Louise, who watches the restaurant in between the two rushes of the day.
They still don't want anything with labels. It’s been more than 10 years, I think.
Bob’s earlier comments were ignored as usual while Louise kept her attention on her big sister. “I mean, I guess it’s not just me, but we’re gonna cook for you. Me and Rudes! Surprise, T!”
A break from ordering out sounds neat.
“Oh, uh, wow,” Tina’s lips form a tight, awkward but grateful smile. “Thanks, you guys.”
“No time for tears, T. We’ll be back in a while, Dad!”
Louise starts to pull her arm out the door when Bob calls out. “Tina, honey, hold on.” Tina looks at her dad, trying to pull a not-so-tired face as she puts her bag back on her shoulder before leaving the restaurant. Louise and Rudy go on ahead outside.
I can already hear what he’s about to say.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Take a nap, please.”
“Yes, I will.”
“A proper one, you hear me?” He tries on that tone that they tease him for, the one where he does his best to sound stern but ends up sounding constipated. Tina tries not to laugh. “And, uh, congratulations. On your promotion…thing.”
Tina snorts. “The one they half-assed and partially took back yesterday, you mean?”
“Well…it’s still, somewhat a…new position, right?”
“I guess so,” She smiles at him, acknowledging how much he’s trying his best to sound proud of her. Tina’s aware it’s the monotonous DNA they both share, so she knows it’s genuine all the same. She sneaks a look behind her, through the glass where Louise and Rudy bicker while waiting for her outside.
“...Thank you, Dad. And I’ll rest, I promise. You know it’ll take those two more than a few hours to cook together.”
Bob snickers at that. “I think it’s cute.”
The door closes behind Tina, quickly pulling her duffel bag so it doesn’t get caught in the gap. “Dad had a few cooking notes? Does he not trust us with our own kitchen at this point? I’m almost 30!” Louise exclaims, jamming the apartment door with her key.
“You’re 23, Louise.”
“Same thing.”
The three of them march upstairs. Rudy was noticeably hauling up a grocery bag, ready to back up the hurricane named Louise in the kitchen; utensil in one hand and cookbook in another. Her sister brags about how it only took them one afternoon to practice—like the so-called experts they are—but Tina could see how much sentiment Louise held doing something for other people.
Louise Belcher was an acts-of-service kind of gal. Growing up, they all realized this while pinpointing the very tsundere part of her services; a word her sister discovered when she was in an anime and J-Pop phase a few years ago.
The scene in the kitchen reminds her of the video from the cab drive home. Tina thinks about telling Louise, but they distract her from it with a question.
“So,” Louise starts, while trying to eyeball the amount of flour and chopped vegetables in their recipe. “Technically, what happened to your position? Mom and I were both waiting for you on the 7 o’clock news but all we got was Mr. Platinum Hair and Ms. Face Too Shiny, whatever their names were.”
“Oh. Where is Mom, by the way?”
“Farmer’s market. She’s, gots to get her weekly delicacies, like the lovely senior citizen she is.”
“Don’t forget, active.” Rudy adds.
“Right—thank you, pal. That was almost dangerous. She swears she can hear better now too—GOD FAVORS THAT WOMAN—I mean, how does hearing improve with age?!” Louise goes into a quick frenzy, then looks back at her older sister at the table.
“—Anyway, yeah, what’s with those non-Tina losers last night?”
Tina also doesn’t care about their names, so she lets her baby sister talk smack all she wants. She takes a deep breath, but not so much that she’d sound unhappy, because she’s not.
Hell yeah, I’m not. I know I’m happy, right?
“Well, in the four days they made me anchor on all three main studio newscasts, the stupid primetime rating was crucial, and they just wouldn’t accept a 6.5 that won’t pull up,” Tina says with a tired smile. “Margaret was the only one on my side, as usual–”
“Naturally–”
Tina smiles at her sister, who took a liking to her immediate superior; Margaret, the program manager for all three of their local network’s main newscasts. The only time they met was at a recent Boyz 4 Now reunion, where Louise saw Tina’s boss sporting two sleeves on two arms, another tattooed sleeve on her thigh, a neck tattoo, her shaved head dyed pink, and a face decorated beautifully with sparkly, colorful makeup, all under stick-on face jewels.
Nat Kinkle finally had a rival that day.
“And she made a compromise,” Tina took in another breath of confidence before resuming. “The other execs agreed I can try to boost my audience through the radio, and I can still anchor the morning and afternoon programs.”
“Which makes you, you know, almost not sleep anymore?”
“I’m okay. I’m getting used to it…?”
“It’s been a day, T. You’re ridiculous.” Tina almost missed it, but Louise had a split-second look of pure concern for her. Her sister lets Rudy take a peek at the cookbook before he comments. Louise still treats him like he isn't almost a foot taller than her.
They look so cute.
“You know, Tina, it’s a good thing radio is slowly making a comeback. I overheard my dad’s mini-golf buddies talking about their own ranking of DJs this season.”
Aw.
His indirect words of comfort were appreciated. She never stopped seeing him as the little boy her baby sister ran around with over the years.
“I guess that’s good news for me, buddy.” She stands from her seat. “...And I’ll, be...taking my nap now. I’ll set an alarm for two hours, or just…wake me up.” Tina grabs her things and before she forgets, she stops in the middle of the doorway from the kitchen.
“Oh, and Louise, can I borrow your air purifier? I haven’t cleaned for a week and I ran out of anti-histamines for my rhinitis…"
“It’s in my room!” Louise says behind her, keeping her focus on how strong the fire on the stove was. “It’s kind of a mess since it was laboratory day, but we all know you were worse in high school!”
Tina laughs quietly to herself, walking down their old hallway. The apartment had been renovated, slowly and part by part, over the years—some paid by her savings. The work was all done by Teddy with the most recent visits accompanied by his protégé, his only son with Kathleen. They treated him more as an uncle now, and Teddy Jr. was like their cousin—the 'power couple' Bob and Linda even made godparents during the kid’s baptism.
The door of Gene’s old room opens to Louise’s college mess. This instantly makes Tina smile; to see her baby sister grow up from a plotting little kid that needed chaos every day to a young adult working on her second degree in Forensic Science. Louise had to focus more on her courses for this one, unlike how she did a ‘speed-run’ (her own words) of her business degree, when she majored in Marketing at 17 under a scholarship. That was the only way the two of them could afford college. She carefully steps over some diagrams and science equipment all scattered on the floor and looks up at a picture of the three Belcher Kids—one from Louise’s high school graduation she kept untouched by her bedside drawer.
Tina stares at the picture for a few seconds, even if she’d done it a thousand times before.
A lot of milestones were achieved that day. Gene was shining in the photo, from the news that Marshmallow and Lenny DeStefano (his boyfriend), was willing to support him in moving to California; he wanted to pursue music production, musical theater, and indulge in drag at the same time.
Tina also looked bright—smiling wide with all her flossed teeth showing, her arms around her beloved siblings.
That day was also monumental for her. 21-year-old Tina was promoted to Program Researcher—from Production Assistant that got stuck dumping files in the editing bay daily—and was finally made in-charge of a few headlines and what made the cut in the newsroom for a few local programs. Most articles had to have her permission before passing it on for editing. Margaret had to give Tina a strict talk about her tendency to ‘power trip’, but she knew she did well.
How else would she have made Head Researcher in the next six months if she didn’t do a good job for that position?
I was practically made for it. I’m right where I have to be.
The purifier accompanies Tina to her old room, where some things stayed the same—mostly the obvious practical ones like her desk and closet, and the rest have been moved to storage, avoiding accidents ever since her job of 6 years had her running all over the place.
Is it me or is the schedule change at fault for making me sentimental today? A girl could use a warning next time.
She closes her bedroom door, coming face to face with the displayed merits behind it, her memories over the years at the station.
The first year when she got tormented by her seniors for being slow. Her second and third year getting trained by Margaret, then the next few years as a news respondent in different places all over the county, to a recent photo of her making anchor for the station.
A place where she learned to be assertive, where she learned to tap into herself more, and feel more what exists around her, co-existing and affecting each other in the world. News had been her entire life now, and there was nothing else that mattered to her more at this time.
6 years, huh.
Nothing else. At this time.
At this…time…
Tina plops on her bed, hands over her face.
Aaand we’re alone now, Tina, so there’s nothing distracting us from the fact that you just saw—
She picks her phone up on the first ring that blared loudly in that silent room. “Hello?”
“Tina!”
“Oh, hey, Margaret,” Tina sits up. “What’s up?”
“Oh no—You sound sleepy. Sorry, dear… I gotta squeeze this in before your nap. That cool?”
Like I had a choice. “Oh, yeah. Go ahead.”
“We got a new researcher under your morning and afternoon program! She’ll start later at 12 AM, and she’s already here taking notes and orientation and stuff,” Margaret pauses for a while, letting the shouting and the other noises pass. “She seems excited! I think you’ll like her.”
“That sounds great, I can’t wait to–” Tina panics and slaps her hand over her mouth, trying not to yawn loudly over the phone. “To meet her! Can’t wait. Ha-ha.”
“Me too! Her name’s Megan…” Tina hears some ruffling of papers. “Megan McLaughlin! That’s her.”
Megan McLaughlin… “Wait, Fifth-Grade Megan?!”
She slaps her mouth again, this time from embarrassment.
“Well, if that’s what you wanna call her we might have a slight confusion problem with the whole team, dear!” Margaret laughs. “Do you know each other?”
“Yeah…kinda. It’s a long story.”
“...”
“...Uh, hello? Margaret?”
“...She’s…Yeah…Oh!...” Tina couldn’t make out the far away voices from the background noise. Her mentor was probably pulled away by some staff, maybe an urgent publishing thing to sign off.
“Okay…I’ll…wait here.”
After a short minute, Margaret’s booming voice was back in her ear. “So, Tina!”
“Yep! I’m awake, hi.”
“Just talked to Megan! She said you were a schoolmate back in Wagstaff?” Margaret pauses, sounding like she had to adjust some things. “Told me all about how she moved back here after her master’s and she’s trying to get experience in Journalism! What a cute little girl!”
“Cute, yeah.” Far from that, Tina recalls a few of the times she had interacted with the girl.
“Anyway, she mentioned that your family owned a restaurant?”
That’s new. “She did…?”
“Yes, dear, and now I’m a little hurt you never mentioned it to us when we looked for special cooking segment prospects—but it's cool! I thought of something brilliant!”
Oh, no.
“A show all about cooking—you would find that easy, wouldn’t you! That’s what we can propose for your dream magazine show, Tina! All about the county’s food, the cooks, the entire culture. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
Exciting. Yippee.
Tina clears her throat, and laces her next words with the best sugar she can manage. “It sounds amazing, Margaret. I can try to work it out and go for it but, it might take a while…since, you know, I have daily news reports to go through—”
“Right, right, I get it! But hey, think about it, huh? You go rest and I’ll see you back at the studio at 7.”
“Thanks, Margaret.”
The call beeps to an end. Tina, once again, envelopes her face with frustrated hands. Just, try to sleep, don’t think about anything else.
Just sleep, Tina.
3 hours passed.
It was downright awful, involuntarily waking up every half hour or so. Tina hadn’t actually rested when Louise went to wake her up for her well-cooked meal. She loaded them up with compliments to the best of her ability, and prepared to go back to work in an hour.
Her mom was also taking a nap when she went in their room to say goodbye to Dad, so she settles for a kiss on top of her mom’s quiet head before leaving.
“Isn’t it a bit too early, Tina?” Her dad watches her, pausing the new TV in their own room.
“Yeah, but, I wanna walk around the beach for a while.”
“Okay,” Bob returns the kiss on top of Tina’s head for Linda. “Just be safe.”
Tina leaves Louise and Rudy alone making more food for dinner, for their parents this time, challenging themselves to move faster in the kitchen. The restaurant closed earlier some days, whenever Bob would just want to cuddle with his loving wife—age truly brought out the worst of the saps in them, they act like teenagers sometimes—even Teddy would call timeout for excessive couple-y moments in the restaurant. Louise had been thinking of hiring part-timers, against Bob's belief that he could man the grill all day at his age, but they know it was bound to happen some time soon.
Cooking. Part-timers.
What is with everyone today?
Tina’s droopy feet make it onto the boardwalk, and before heading down to the beach, she opens her phone.
She remembered the channel name within a second.
Entering the full thing in the search bar, it was instantly suggested. ‘Poign Blanc Bistro’—an attempt at a cute pun; it was a restaurant in Brooklyn, New York. The channel uploaded all sorts of videos, with the most views for a series of vlogs in a playlist named just like the one that interrupted her afternoon.
That stupid ‘Blanc Boys’ vlog, spearheaded by Brett, I’m guessing.
Uploaded just two days ago, it read. She clicked on the same video her cab driver had graciously, accidentally suggested, and accepted what she saw.
It really was him.
The sand catches her arms, her hands giving out, dropping her phone before checking again. And again. And around 6 more times. And a few more.
He looks the same. While looking a little different…
The same curly hair. The same smile, the same tanned, healthy, toned arms. The same shoulders, hell, even the same butt from that one part in the video (yes, she watched the whole thing), the same eyes and the same endearing accent she thought of fondly.
The tattooed forearm was new.
Most of the symbols were hard to make out—it was harder every time she tried to pause and unpause just to zoom in, the jacket sleeves were only pulled up once in the video, and objectively her eyes just suck.
In the next moment, she makes a mistake. One she would regret for some time.
Tina hit 'subscribe'.
Subscribed. Bell button on. No harm done right?
She was terribly wrong, thinking it was all in good graces, safe and tidy using her lurking researching account for work—until she went to her profile tab and unknowingly used her old account, slowly coming around the fact that she was an idiot who forgot to switch.
“Z-man, when are you gonna turn off your email notifications for our channel? It is blasting off in here—”
“Wha now?”
“Alright, I’ll do it–”
“No, no, I got it, I got it!” He didn’t know how, but it was better than his trainees messing with his space. God knows he needed his space.
And Brett needed to learn about that personal space!
He scoffs at himself. Middle-school me would be disappointed at how I turned out, Mr. Personal Space over here. His new laptop was pinging in the middle of the room. There was so much of it now, since the day they launched Blanc Boys, and he keeps forgetting to turn it to silent in the staff room while working, just so they don’t figure out that he can’t figure out how to remove those single email notifications.
He was just about to slam it close when another popped up.
‘Jerichos_BFF_416 has subscribed to you!’
Reading that username felt like a slap in his dinner-rush-stained face.
The profile picture is…a drawing of a black horse.
Seeing that photo felt like another slap. A harder one. One that felt like the real thing, from the real one behind an account he wouldn’t dare forget even if he got hit by a car.
He checked again, and again. A few more times. And a few more after that.
It was real.
“...Now that’s just dandy.”