say it

February 2088. Vicky Garth is 23, Vale Akiyama is 27.

Even though they’re in the same time zone now, Vicky still can’t compete with Vale’s super late nights. If she thinks he’ll make it home by midnight, she might try to wait up. But more often she’s out cold when he tiptoes into the bedroom at 3am, tie still on, ears still ringing, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, and cuddles up behind her. “You awake?”

She turns her face to him, eyes closed, voice soft and dreamy, and says, “Not very.”

Which makes him smile, because he always loved that dreamy, sleepy voice, remembering her on the phone for all those months. Now she’s here in his arms.

She’s listening, and there’s nothing more he loves than ending his night telling her every scandalous and exciting moment of his gig. Her sleepy fingers pull at his tie, shirt buttons, and belt buckle as he tells her everything while she slowly strips him down. It’s more intimate than erotic. 

“Marc Hall was being a total attention whore. Everyone was pissed. The food was awful—I was too busy to eat anything, but everyone said the ceviche was rancid. Gonna be a lot of people puking in toilets tomorrow morning. Poppy said she was disappointed you didn’t come, she wants to hang out sometime. And Asher told me that Shaina told him that Drew Bradshaw was there, and he totally raved about the music, and he might write about me in his arts column in the newspaper.”

“Aw, babe, that’s so cool.” Her eyes are open now, looking sleepy, but happy, and also worried. “When you’re super famous and everybody wants a piece of you, I hope you still want to come home and tell me about your night.”

He chuckles. “What about you? Did you get hit on at the garden center again? I’m gonna lose you there. Our new congressman is such an eco nut. Maybe you shouldn’t meet him. He’s vegan and charming and kind of schmoozy. You’d love him.”

“No, I love you.”


She never intended to say that out loud, but it comes out so naturally. Now she’s fully awake, heart racing, palms sweating, trying to squirm down underneath the covers. But he’s grinning, gloating, holding her tight.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Don’t freak out. Do you want me to pretend I didn’t hear it?”

“No,” she says.

“Then, do you mean it? You love me?”

Head swelling, high on all these feelings. She’s ruined him. Oh well, it was bound to happen. 

“Yes, you turd.”

“Can I say it back?” he asks. “Will you freak out?”

“I already know you love me.”

“But can I say it?”

“Okay, go on.”

He smirks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You horrible tease!”

She tickles him senseless—he had that coming—until he wrestles her into a sleepy cuddle. 

It’s been five weeks.

The first week didn’t count because they were sick. The second week didn’t count, either, because they had to make up for lost time. Third week, Vale had to go back to work. “But stay,” he begged, “explore the city, go to yoga, or whatever.” Fourth week, she found a pleasant space for herself here. Fifth week, just stay.

“You know,” she says, “I’m still paying rent on an apartment back home.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem. You better get rid of it. Stay.”

“Another month?” 

“Longer,” he says.

“Two months?”

“Longer.”

She giggles. “A year?”

“Longer.”

He has big feelings in his eyes, but she already knows what they are. 

Really? You beautiful, silly fool. Really?

She still can’t believe it sometimes. She’s still waiting for him to change his mind, but also praying that he won’t.


She kisses him sweetly, which he can take as her answer. Then she settles back down to his chest. 

“Well, I guess Beau probably replaced me already. I might as well stay.”

“Might as well. You didn’t like that job anyway, you can find a different one.”

“What about April?”

“She’s a big girl,” he says. “She’ll survive. She has her own family, her own life.”

“I know she’ll survive. But she was my first real friend.” 

Vicky doesn’t mean to imply that she might change her mind. She just wants him to know it. 

“She’ll still be your friend,” he says. “She’ll come visit. You’ll make new friends, more than you could ever imagine.”

It feels so foreign for her to be with someone who thinks so much of her, who believes her to be so capable. She struggles to believe that herself most of the time. 

“Or, actually,” he adds. “Maybe don’t get a job just yet.”

“Why?”

“Okay, it’s not a huge deal, but do you wanna come on tour with me this summer?”


Vicky shoots up from under the covers. 

“Vale! How? How—how do you fail to mention a whole tour!?!”

He finds this amusing, how riled up she gets in two seconds flat. 

“Hang on,” he says. “It was already in the works before we got together. I just didn’t know if it was going to happen or not. Then, just a couple hours ago, actually, Pat told me it’s happening. It’s a baby tour, all the shittiest joints I could get into. It’s like seven shows here and there, but like, all over, and for most of the summer. It just gets so stuffy playing in the same place, night after night after night. Let’s get out! Let’s see the world!”

“Were you just going to leave me here?”

“No! I wanted you to come. I hoped you would come.”

“What am I going to do on your tour?”

“I don’t know, maybe, sing!”

Vicky shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“You can, but you won’t.”


She crosses her arms, looking snotty. 

“I know,” he says, “You can carry equipment with the other roadies.”

“Heh,” she snorts. 

“Nah, I’ve got a job for you. I’ll give you a whistle and a clipboard, and you can just boss everybody around.”



Then they’re laughing. Because yes, in truth, Vicky would be excellent at that job. Girlfriend-slash-lyricist-slash-bossy tour manager. 


But then he leans in close, sweetly, seriously. “Or do whatever. Write in your journal and pick flowers. Just, be with me.”

Vale has a way of being a thousand percent annoying and then unforgivably sweet, like flipping a switch. It makes her head spin. 

“Fine, I’ll go on your stupid tour with you.”

“It’s gonna be so awesome! Just wait and see. You won’t regret it.”

He cuddles her back under the covers. 


“And I love you,” he says.

—

notes: this one is probably inspired by him being such a punk. He always rolls his engagement whims for her after they’ve been goofing around, roasting each other, pranking each other. Like it’s the most important thing to him, besides even good sex, that they have fun together. He’s such a pleasure sim, lol! 

But yes, they do have an incredible amount of fun together.  

He has six whims now, Vicky has four. 

She’s coming along, right there with him, but just a few steps behind.

Also, looking forward to planning lots of musical events for the coming spring and summer. They won’t all be from Vale’s POV, but sometimes from the attendees instead. Exciting times ahead!