When We Were Young

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Hoya hiya !
The next few chapters will be a bit of a filler but it's entertaining filler
Enjoy !!
Xoxoxoxoxo
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#Eli#

The more time spent with Louis was more time with no work gigs, leaving Darcy to pay the bills with her half-ass, part-time waitress job at a diner on a side street near an alley. She was already occupied with that and baking school, which she'd spent all of her savings on to go to. Hell, I even gave her a good portion of mine despite her arguing, telling me I needed to use it for my photography.
The rest of my saving a were slowly shrinking the longer we lived in the city. Saying it was expensive was putting it mildly. Not that it isn't expensive to live anywhere else, and we were utterly grateful that we had a steady home instead of just living on the streets or in some run-down shack in the lower-class suburban area outside the city. It was just the stress of the upkeep of a life like ours. We were nobodies as so many others are, and who knows how long it'll take before Darcy can open up her own bakery and I can open up a photography studio. Right now, we were trudging our way up the food chain like everyone else.
I do have to say, not having to buy a new camera definitely kept me from having to dig into my ever-shrinking savings account. Despite being angry at Louis who insisted on buying me a better camera than the one I had before, it felt like a dream to be shooting with the new one.
The happiness didn't last long though. The more I thought about taking my photography career to a new level, and the more Sage, Darce, and Louis pushed me to do it, the more terrified I got of actually doing it. It was different than having someone tell me what to take photos of. When they did that, I didn't have to worry about the judgment they'd give when the photo wasn't just right. Because at a wedding, or charity event, or some other shit, you could take a thousand photos and they'd think every single one is beautiful.
But actually taking my work to a critic and having them tell me if I was good enough or not made me want to puke at the thought. I don't know how other people did it; facing the fear of having someone tell you if the thing most personal to you is good or bad.
That's the thing, it was personal. To me, at least, it was one of the most personal things you could share with another human being. To share the image in which you saw everything, the intimacy of your style, the story behind each detail you decide to capture. Some people take photos for fun, but even they have some story behind what they choose to take. And when they share that, it's nothing to them because it's just another photo. If someone critiques them, they can delete that comment and take another. But for professional photographers-and up-and-coming ones such as myself-one bad comment could send us over the edge, determined to take the perfect photo before we die. But is there ever really a perfect photo? How do you choose what's good to you and what's not to someone else? Why do I have to have someone tell me their opinion on something I think is glorious? Why do I have to care about someone else's opinion before I can share this glorious thing with others?
The movie Darcy and I were watching was putting me to sleep. She was such a sap for Nicholas Sparks while I sat here, resisting the urge to dump my apple juice at the tv. Even if it was just a movie, the idea behind every single one made me wonder what kind of back story that guy had to produce "entertainment" like this. Plus I wouldn't waste my apple juice like that. Apple juice is precious.
"Hey!" Darcy whined, shaking my shoulder, forcing me to open my eyes to glare at her. "You promised you'd stay awake for this one!" She pouted, turning her attention back to the tv.
"What I didn't promise was how many Xanax I had to take so I could get through this," I muttered, trying to readjust myself back into the comfy spot the couch granted me before.
Darcy snapped her head to me with wide eyes. "You didn't."
I waved my hand and adjusted my head so my hair wasn't under me while I let my head sink into my favorite pillow. "No, of course not." Darcy sighed relief and turned back to the tv. "Only one," I joked, chuckling as I felt her eyes widen at me again.
"Bet Louis wouldn't act like this if you forced him to watch one of your horror movies," Darcy mumbled loud enough to catch my attention.
"That's because Louis always tries to grab my ass when we're watching horror movies," I answer, slowly drifting into sleep again.
"How are you guys not dating?" Darcy asked, mostly talking to herself. She'd asked this multiple times over the course of the last few months ever since I came home and announced Louis and I were friends. Except 'announced' was putting it lightly; more like Darcy forced it out of me.
I didn't answer but instead gave a very loud and fake snore, causing Darcy to slap me in the face with the fluffy pillow on the couch. I giggled and pushed it away from myself. Without opening my eyes, I already knew which one it was. When we went out to buy all the pillows for the apartment, we treated the trip and pillow choices as if we were held at gun point. It was of the utmost important we had the perfect fluffy pillows for our home. But don't even get me started on the blankets.

The next day didn't go off on the best start. After numerous accounts of Darcy kicking the couch and repeating 'wake up' after she'd left me there last night to sleep through the night, she'd resorted to the next best thing: sitting on me.
But for Darcy, it wasn't just a simple sitting on my stomach or bladder, forcing me to need to get up to pee, it was much more. First attempt she'd sit right on my bladder and swivel her butt around, repeating 'wake up'. Second attempt included her swiveling her ass but also pouring a cup of freezing cold water on my face, of course placing a bathroom towel underneath me as to protect our lovely couch. Darcy groaned when the only reaction she got was me opening my mouth to the cold waterfall I was receiving. The third attempt though, in someone else's eyes, was possibly the funniest.
After taking the time to put the towel back in the bathroom and the cup back in the kitchen, Darce decided she'd bounce on my bladder this time. This wouldn't be a problem if she had any ass in the first place, and if I hadn't actually drank the water from the last attempt. This time, I actually had to pee but admitting that would just give Darce levee, and I was in no position to do such thing. Literally, the couch was almost as comfortable as my bed.
"Get your fat ass up," Darcy complained.
"At least I have an ass," I mumbled, switching positions so I lay on my right arm instead of my back.
Darcy gasped, making me smirk. "Fine." What happened next was definitely something she had not tried before. With a hard thump, Darcy landed her sweet, boney butt on my hip, making me groan loudly. I rolled over to lay on my stomach but Darcy stayed put on my butt this time. "You made me."
"I'm up, I'm up!" I shouted, trying to lift myself from her capture. "But you won't be when I'm fully awake."
Darcy giggled and finally released me from her torture. "No problem, I'll already be at work. I just had to make sure you wouldn't sleep in after I left." As annoying as she was-hence the butt torture-she was annoying with love. In our own, sort-of twisted way, we looked out for each other.
"Have a fun day!" She called as she retreated to the elevator. "Take a shower, you smell like smoke!" When do I not. "Go do something!" I rubbed my eyes as the elevators dinged and she stepped in with a giddy step. Right before the doors closed, I didn't waste the opportunity to flash her my beautiful middle finger who liked to greet her when she did things like this.