berlin | feel real

berlin | april 2004

"No, thanks," Harlan eyed the bloke who had sidled up next to him from where he was pressed to the back of the room, holding out a mysterious-looking rolled cigarette that was expelling a subtle green smoke from its dimly lit tip. Of course, he had a fucking ponytail. It was the icing on the cake of the hipster haven that he had stumbled upon.

Well, less stumbled and more gone willingly.

That said, he did have second (and third, and fourth) thoughts whilst standing in front of the floor-ceiling hotel mirror in his suite assessing the fifth shirt he'd tried on.

Instead of leaning into whatever atmosphere Senna was getting him into, Harlan settled on something more familiar; black slacks and a black button-down dress shirt, both neatly pressed, tailored to his body. The weather in Berlin was mild, and it wasn't raining as it had been in London, though he still didn't plan on spending too much unnecessary time outside. 

In and out. What trouble could simply stopping by actualize, anyway?

The fact that they both happened to be in the same city (that wasn't London) after a series of good-natured back and forth via letter over the previous few weeks felt like fate. Or maybe her peculiar sense of that sort of thing was rubbing off on him. He winced,  swiftly reminding himself to not bring that up.

Inside, it was as to be expected; like the patrons had dressed for their part in a play about vagabonds and deeply tortured artists. If he weren't so out of his element he would have found it all amusing. Senna, though, in the same way as the night they met, had a certain magnetism about her that didn't come across as campy as some of her peers in the library turned venue.

He could feel it even from the opposite end of the room to where she was on stage, the mismatched string lights sparking the deep blue of his eyes orange.

@Senna O'Shea

"Thank you guys!" Senna called into the mic that was magically amplified around the room as she finished up her set, arm up with a peace sign, a happy smile gracing her face as she moved her guitar to her side and looked over the crowd with their varied auras that had gathered here tonight. A slight sheen of sweat made her skin glisten under the lights, the silver sparkles she had painted around her eyes shining faintly, her fingers feeling tingly from the strumming of guitar strings, and she felt the high that she always did when she performed. She felt free and light and full as if nothing could tether her to the earth and she might float away at any moment and she would be perfectly happy with that.

Except she didn't want to float away just yet. A pair of blue eyes and a golden aura at the back of the room had kept her rooted. She had sung a little more brightly, feeling his eyes on her, the others in the room blurring out of focus. Senna leaned into the feeling even as the music flowed around her, filling her up from the inside out until she felt the beat and the chords and each note burst out from her.

She knew the set had to end and that she couldn't perform forever, there were others waiting off to the side now - a man clutching his book of poetry, a woman with dreadlocks and a tambourine - but she felt that familiar pull of regret and not wanting it to end. And yet, it existed simultaneously with eagerness and anticipation to get off the stage, to talk to him. 

It had been a few weeks since she had last swam with him in the indoor pool at the Hawkins and while the owl mail they had sent back and forth was amusing, it had felt like fate that they were both in this city at the same time for completely different reasons. She'd be a fool not to think the universe was telling her something. She had portkeyed into Berlin last night after a friend had asked her to perform in this library turned venue and had invited him to see her play, wondering if he'd even show.

But he had. And even lingering in the back quietly, he was just as magnetic as the first time she had met him.

Senna smiled at Paul in thanks as he took her guitar as she stepped off the stage, touching his arm in appreciation of his compliments on her set, but she was soon moving through the crowd, her tie-front, semi-sheer maxi top trailing behind her as she moved towards the Captain holding up the wall at the back of the room. She smiled at him in greeting as she got closer and then snuck in for a brief hug as a hello. "So what did you think?" she asked before she stepped back, looking up at him. "I'm glad you came."

Harlan shifted easily into the embrace as he pushed himself from the wall, both arms wrapping around her, and despite the untouched drink in his palm— it was a gin of some sort. he hadn't asked questions, it didn't seem like the kind of place. "Hi," He was wise to check himself and the grin that crept over his features just as easily as he had slid into touch.

What the fuck was he doing there?

"Not bad," Senna had asked what he thought and he tried in vain to hide just how impressed he was. After a moment, he gave in. "You're great," He confessed like he was telling a priest his deepest and darkest sins, his shoulders sinking slightly as he pulled away, his hand lingering around her side and giving what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

Not that she needed any reassuring after that performance, he thought.

"Tough act to follow..." Someone had climbed the stage with a fucking tambourine and Harlan's eyes slid over him cooly. The bar was set too high and his expectations were historically low. She was glad that he came and suddenly that was all that mattered. "Me too," He was more sincere when he admitted it, catching her eye, and markedly less guilty about it.   

The deep rumble of his voice felt both familiar and foreign and she was glad that he had shown up tonight. Their letters had been nice, light and teasing, but seeing him in person reminded her of why she had been so enthralled that night of the Hawkins party. She felt the warmth of his hand at her hip and she smiled wider as he complimented her as if he had been reluctant to admit to it.

Senna snickered as she placed her hand over his on her side, tilting her head to the side. "That is the right answer," she teased as she gazed up at him, her words were playful but her pleased feeling was genuine. She wasn't surprised to hear he was glad he came, or maybe she was just a little, but she was glad he had seen her perform, seen her in a moment when she felt most alive.

At his nod toward the stage, Senna half-turned, her shoulder brushing against his chest as she stood close, turning her gaze back to the stage she had been on not minutes ago. Ah, Jonas. Performing some of his poetry. She had chatted with him earlier, but his vibe had been too chaotic for her, like he had a million thoughts per second and switched between them before the last had fully come to realization.

Jonas began his spoken word performance, his tambourine like a soft accent he used sparingly in the beginning, as his words fell from his lips in a hypnotic rhythm. A steady stream of word play and repetition, punctuated by hard hitting phrases for emphasis and hand gestures that made his tambourine rattle. Senna moved to Harlan's side, still facing the stage, but more interested in his reaction. "Can I?" she asked as her fingers slid over his before slipping his glass out of his hand without waiting for an answer and taking a sip. Her brows quirked as the gin hit her tongue, taking a second little sip, then giving it back, nodding towards the stage.

Her dimples became a bit more pronounced, her honey eyes glinting mischievously. "I'm sure we can get you a slot up there too if you'd like. You'd do great with a poetry slam," she teased, already wondering and guessing what his reaction might be.

It was the right answer and Harlan wasn't surprised. It wasn't because he knew— though it wouldn't have been out of character— he could tell by the way that Senna had said it, the way her face softened, the way her eyes steadied on him. It was the same look he got when he got to share what loved to do with people. At least, the sentiment was the same, he thought.

She brushed against him as she turned to the stage as indicated. Had she taken a step closer? Or had she always been close enough that they couldn't avoid touching each other, even in a subtle way?

The man on stage proved a welcome distraction from whatever thoughts had floated into his mind. "Merlin..." He whispered more to himself than to her, a stream of thought manifested. Harlan made no secret the way he studied the stage; he hadn't meant it unkindly but he knew the look on his face said otherwise. It was painfully evident that he was well out of his element.

"You would take it either way," Harlan reminded Senna, as if he actually knew her.

She stepped to his side and he settled again where he had plastered himself to the wall. "Very funny," His tone said otherwise. He would die before getting up on that stage. Harlan glanced over to Senna as he took back his drink. "Would you like one of your own or would you prefer to keep drinking mine?" His brow quirked, a smirk pulling at his mouth as he deliberately drank right from where she had.

Jonas had, at the very least, put his chaotic tendencies to good use in his performance. He was raw and genuine and the rhythm was hypnotic, his words speaking to some place inside her as he gave a list of everything he wanted to be, every idealistic notion he had ever strived for, his tambourine a seemingly reluctant assistant, but the man beside her pulled her attention more than Jonas. His whispered word had her glancing side long at him, a smile curving up her lips.

She wondered what he would do if this whole night had been a poetry slam. The thought was amusing.

He was right though about the drink and she just gave him a careless shrug. Senna liked that he knew her, or at least enough to guess correctly. She met his gaze, watching as he took a drink right where she had. Senna licked her lips and gave him a little shake of her head, her silver hair gliding over her shoulder. "I'm good with sharing," she replied with an angelic smile as she slid her hand along his forearm, squeezing lightly.

Jonas's performance came to an end and she reluctantly let go to clap for him, giving a short high-pitched whistle before she turned to face Harlan as she took his free hand and tugged him away from the wall he had been holding up. "C'mon, there's someone I want you to meet," she implored with a smile as she walked backwards a few steps.

Harlan rolled his eyes. If her drink stealing was any indication— fucking obviously. The action had been good-natured, marked with a grin and teetering on mischievous. Senna's statement could be taken a number of ways, after all. A few of which he was trying desperately not to dwell on for too long as she ran a hand up his forearm and gave it a squeeze as if she knew.

"And if I'm not?" He wondered rhetorically. What he wanted didn't seem to matter as much, and he wasn't complaining.

There was no time to continue that thought because all at once she was pulling him from where he'd anchored himself. Immediately, being in the midst of the crowd hit him. He skirted around a man who twirled by without a care. "Fuck, please tell me it's not Jonas..." Harlan's eyes narrowed on Senna as she floated easily (even whilst walking backward, he noted) with a smile still painted on her face.

It was infectious in the worst kind of way.

Her smile grew as he rolled his eyes at her, but she saw that gleam in his deep blues and found herself leaning into his playfulness, something she hadn't expected from him at first. It was like a nice surprise that kept popping up every now and again, a little hint of a reminder as to why she had been so enthralled by him that first night a few weeks ago. His question had her tilting her head at him. "Then we won't, just say the word," she told him simply before pausing a beat and an impish expression flickered across her face. "But somehow I don't think you will," she said before she turned around, her hands still holding on to his wrist as she raised up on her tip toes to peer through the crowd.

"Ah there she is," she said, sending him a grin over her shoulder and a shake of her head. "No, not Jonas, but I can introduce you if you'd like," she supplied innocently, already guessing at his answer. Instead, she brought him to a small, petite Asian witch with a silver nose ring and her hair in matching space buns, wearing a dress that was half patterned with stars in dark blue and the other half sun rays in stark yellow. "Lina!" Senna exclaimed with a smile, releasing Harlan's hands as she greeted her old friend with a peck on the lips and a tight hug, getting a delicious whiff of cinnamon and incense on her. "It's so good to see you," Senna told her warmly as Lina said at the same time, "You were great up there." The two women started to chat, but Senna was quick to remember her manners, reaching out a hand to pull Harlan closer.

"Oh and this is Harlan Bellamy. Lina, Harlan. Harlan, Lina. He was in town for a quidditch thing, right?--" she asked with a glance at him to confirm before she looked back at Lina. "--He's Captain of the Griffins so on official business here, but I figured if fate put us both in the same city on the same day, he should at least come hear me play." She watched as Lina looked him over and greeted him with her usual warmness while Senna bit her lip as an idea formed.

"You know.." she started as she peeked a glance at Harlan, seeing an odd expression but not knowing how to decipher it, before turning back to Lina. "I wasn't sure what he'd think of all this, but he actually really enjoyed Jonas's performance. Didn't you, Harlan?" she gazed up at him serenely, pressing her lips together in an effort to keep a straight face.

It was verging on unnerving, Senna's ability to inadvertently read his mind— he had no intention of being the first one to cave, just as she had not-so-subtly suspected. Besides, if he were being honest, he didn't mind sharing most things.

There she is. His hand fell to his side as the witch approached the friend she wanted to introduce him to. It wasn't difficult to see how the two of them might get along. Same vibes. Christ, he thought to himself darkly, if even the thought of vibes had come to might he'd already spent too much time there. Whatever there was.

"Hi, Lina," Harlan repeated her name as she went in to kiss both of his cheeks, lingering at either one with her hands wrapped over his shoulders like the greeting between old friends. He'd paused obligatorily just before to see if she was more of a handshake person.

He should have known better.

His eyes snapped over as Senna announced why he was there and all at once he a fraction exposed. His jaw set briefly, then loosened, just, when reminded himself she meant it innocently. How was she to know that he wanted nothing more than to go unnoticed. He managed a polite nod in Lina's direction to confirm, thankful Senna drifted to the next topic.

"Mesmerizing," Harlan was sure his eyes almost rolled as he pinched lightly at the side of Senna's back.

Senna felt the squeeze of the pinch and stifled a laugh, sliding her hand down to cover his. A deterrent from doing that again or maybe it was just another excuse to touch him. She didn't mind either way honestly, glancing up at him with a small grin as she stepped into him, her shoulder brushing against his chest.

And while Lina was a creative and had a great eye for fine art photography and bringing people together, Senna was not surprised one bit that Harlan's sarcasm escaped her. Intuition hadn't been one of her strong points. Maybe that's why the relationship between her and Lina hadn't worked out all those years ago.

"Mesmerizing?" Lina repeated, her brows raised in delight. "I'm sure Jonas would love to talk to you about it then. He'll be off the stage in just a moment if you'd like to meet him," she offered and Senna couldn't resist.

"Wow, yes, can we?" Senna asked with a wide smile, sneaking a glance at Harlan, as she threaded her fingers through his where they rested on her hip in an attempt to stop him from pinching her again.

Senna glanced over to the stage where she saw Jonas chatting with Paul off to the side and stroking his goatee and wanted to call him over immediately but she heard Lina's next question which undoubtedly had her tuning back in.

"--and I'm working on this new nude collection called 'In Our Skin' and it's an exploration of the human body and it's strength and adaptability and power. We'd love for you to be a part of it, if you're interested, being an professional athlete and all. It's very tasteful, I could show you some of the portraits I've done already if you'd like?" Lina offered.

Senna knew what her answer was. "I'd love to see," she said before glancing up at Harlan.

Harlan glanced over his shoulder to where Lina had indicated, clearly bracing himself. The bloke from the stage had thankfully seemed to have been pulled into another conversation before they could get their hands on him. He breathed a quiet exhale of relief as he turned back to her and Senna, who was, as to be expected, grinning up at him as she twisted her fingers around his on her hip. He flexed his own, another quiet warning.

It felt like an inherently close thing to be doing so casually, but he was going with it.

Fuck, the place really was rubbing off on him.
 
He watched intently as her friend explained her budding exhibition, his thumb running over the fabric of her top without thought. "Sure, I'd like to see it," Harlan said earnestly, careful not to agree to anything concrete. For one, Madeline would have his head if he went did something like that, and two, while the idea was appealing, it was less so for him personally.

"Lead the way," He gestured to Lina, scanning the crowd briefly for anyone who might have eyes on them. Bad habit.

Senna felt his fingers move under hers and she bit her lip at the subtle warning. It wasn't a deterrent, actually quite the opposite, as she was feeling rather playful tonight. She could blame it on the high of the stage and post-performance glee or maybe it was just the city of Berlin and the way it spoke to her, or maybe it was just him. Him with his touch at his hip feeling brand new and warm. Him surprising her once again.

"Really?" Senna asked looking up at him, even as Lina clapped her hands once and said, "Great! You'll love it!" with a lop-sided smile on her face.

First, swimming in his party clothes at Mr. H's house and now looking at Lina's nude portrait collection? It delighted her how much he seemed to surprise her. As Lina hooked her arm around his elbow, Senna slipped his glass from his fingertips. "I'll get us a refill, be right back," she said before flitting away to the bar, letting Lina walk and talk him towards her gallery at the back of the bookstore, a midnight blue curtain sectioning it off from the rest of the place. The gallery had high-arching ceilings and white walls that begged for art to be hung there. There were already some framed black and white portraits, charmed to hover against the walls, moving up and down almost as if they were breathing, but there were also a bunch of half-finished paintings and thick, empty frames that still needed a home. It had a very work-in-progress feel and Lina chatted the entire way about the collection, about the models and actresses and dancers and everyday people like wand makers and even a Ministry official who had sat for a nude portrait for her, about the freeing feeling of shedding both one's clothes as well as society's expectations and fears of the human body in its rawest, truest form.

Senna slipped back to them, two drinks in her hand, one for Lina (her favorite martini) and the other-- "Figured we could share," she told Harlan as she sipped at the other glass and then offered it to him, her fingers brushing his, before she turned to look at the portraits they had stopped in front of. Her eyes traced the lines of muscle, the beauty evident in the light and shadow, and Senna was struck with the memory of why she and Lina had taken up so quickly a few years ago in Paris: she brought out something unique in people and it was evident in the way she wielded a camera.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, a bit in awe before her curiosity got the better of her. "Who is it?" she asked turning to Lina who smiled at her and tapped her nose. "The point is that its anonymous, Sen," which only made her even more curious and she turned back trying to make out the features of the face draped in shadow.

Senna had flitted away by the time that her words had registered— she was off for a refill— her friend's arm had snaked around at his elbow. Harlan followed without a second thought, despite his best intention. Everything had happened so fast that he could hardly get a hold of it. The oddly anticipatory thumping of music that the next performer had as the background to their performance didn't help.

Eventually, the hum of the crowd became only a residual sound in his chest. "Hmm, oh—" His grey eyes scoured what had unfolded just down a set of stairs. He'd been too distracted to notice that Lina had charmed open a bookcase to reveal their entryway to her world.

A cold touch to his forearm gave him pause and Harlan settled on Senna who arrived as discretely as she left. Absently, he took the drink but focused instead on the works in front of him. As if plucking the thoughts from his brain Senna declared, 'it's beautiful.' Not they, not plural, but more a collective sense of being.

"Stunning..." He added as he explored the floors and ground around them. He was halfway to saying the same as Lina when she did just that, and he grinned in return. For someone so big on vibes, Senna couldn't see that coming? Of course, it was anonymous. Eventually, he took a sip of his drink before handing it over. "Cute," Lina said somewhere between sentimental and sarcastic. He could appreciate that.

"I like this," Harlan lifted his hand to a portrait to their left, limbs impossibly intertwined. It wasn't clear how many people they belonged to but it didn't seem to matter.

Senna was pleased with his reaction toward Lina's portraits, mixed with a little surprise and a little wonder. It felt genuine even though she hadn't expected a professional athlete to appreciate art like this. She had half a mind to scold herself for putting him in a box, she knew better, but at the same time, she liked the surprise of finding new facets. With every corner, there was something new and fascinating to uncover and it made her curious to see what was next.

She took the glass back from him, sending a wink toward Lina at her dry comment, before licking at a drop on the rim where his lips hand been and then taking a sip as she stared at the multitude of limbs, crisscrossing and intertwining. She twirled the strings that kept her top tied together around her fingers before she pulled her gaze away from the portrait that felt like a many-personed hug, her eyes landing on Lina.

"Do you still have that portrait of me?" Senna asked with a secret smile, thinking of one photoshoot in particular. Lina gave her a nod with an echoing smile.

"Is it still in your bedroom?" Senna asked mischievously, making Lina laugh a "No" in her direction.

"Why not?" she asked a tad affronted, but curious too, tilting her head to the right. Lina gave her an indulgent smile, meeting her gaze. "You're the one who broke up with me, remember?" Senna grinned at the memory, glancing at Harlan, but gave her a nod. "Fair enough," Senna said and ran a hand down Lina's forearm before she edged past her to the next portrait.

She felt rather than saw him behind her and she chanced leaning back until she felt the wide expanse of his chest against her shoulder blades as she sipped at their shared drink. "This one's interesting," she said as she studied the lines of the couple, naked except for the steep shadows of Lina's lighting, arms around each other so all the best bits were unfortunately covered, but it felt very sensual and raw at the same time. It made her wonder at the moments just after the photo was taken, at how the two feel in the current moment and if they were still together, and if they too felt the same thing she did when they saw their own figures in the stark black and white without any clothing to hide behind.

Harlan was distracted by the works of art around them but he made no secret that he caught the conversation that had unfolded. A grin crept over his features— though, he didn't look over his shoulder to engage. It was clear that it was a memory for them, something not quite secret and not quite sacred, but also not one they needed someone treading on.

Senna leaned back into him just as Harlan approached the portrait she and Lena had taken steps toward. The casual nature in which they came together should have been more of a red flag but he brushed it off and reached over her shoulder to take back their drink. With a nudge to her side with his free hand, Harlan studied where she had indicated, offering the plastic cup back in return.

"It feels so personal," He said without thought, venturing a glance to Lina was looking on just as admiringly. "Despite the anonymity and all that..." He continued to muse. Maybe it was the person pressed back against him but Harlan was verging on sentimental. "I feel like I know them," He barked a laugh, realizing that he just very well might.