"No, I mean an actual sleepover. With, like, stupid movies and junk food and painting our nails and stuff. Normal people things." They pause. "Well, as normal as we get, anyway. Come on, when's the last time you did something that wasn't either school or super stuff?"
"I went to the movies last week," I protest, but Jordan's already shaking their head before I finish the sentence.
"You went to stake out the movie theater because you thought the Kingdom might be using it as a front," they say, typing something else that makes one of their screens light up blue. "That's not the same thing as actually watching a movie. When's the last time you just… watched something? Without looking for suspicious activity or tracking blood trails or whatever?"
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again because they're right and I hate it. The beanbag chair makes a sad wheezing noise as I sink deeper into it. "Fine. But I'm not painting my nails. They're already sore enough." My right hand throbs helpfully, like it's trying to prove my point. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, first, you should probably text your parents that you're staying over. And then we can order a pizza, and I can show you this absolutely batshit anime about-"
"If you try to make me watch Evangelion again, I'm leaving."
"It's not- okay, first of all, you're missing out on a classic, and second, it's something completely different. Promise." They're already pulling up some delivery app on their phone. "Also, we have those mini-sodas left from when Connor brought them over last week, and I think there's still some of that weird Korean candy Tasha gave me…"
After ordering the pizza, Jordan settles into their computer chair, spinning it around a few times before leaning over and setting up some kind of complex display on the biggest monitor. They’ve got this whole setup at the Music Hall, with screens for every purpose, including one entirely dedicated to running shows and movies they’ve torrented. Everything’s organized and obsessively tagged, and they’re scrolling through a folder labeled “Psychological Stuff (Not Evangelion)” while muttering to themselves.
“Okay, so I’m thinking either ‘Perfect Blue,’ because it’s a masterpiece and you’re missing out, or something a little lighter if you don’t want your mind blown in a bad way.” They pause, then flash me a mischievous grin. “There’s also ‘Nausicaä,’ which is way underrated. It’s got giant bugs and this cool post-apocalyptic world, but in a chill way. You ever seen it?”
I shrug. “I mean, I know of it. It sounds familiar. But I’m down for bugs. And anything that’s not ‘Evangelion', because the more you tell me about it the less I want to watch it.”
Jordan snickers. “That’s pigs. Nausicaä it is. You’re gonna love it.”
They start the movie, and we settle in, leaning against the couch with a bowl of stale popcorn they find from somewhere, and that odd Korean candy Tasha left. I try to get into the movie, but there’s this restlessness sitting just below my skin. The colors and music are beautiful, sure, but I keep glancing out the corner of my eye at the pizza tracker on their phone. It’s not that I’m dying for pizza; I just need some kind of event to look forward to. The thought of just sitting here without doing anything—without moving or checking over my shoulder—feels unnatural, like I’m waiting for some signal to jump up and go.
Still, Nausicaä is… kind of cool, actually. There’s this bit where she’s walking over a field of weird spores, and Jordan practically gasps, clutching the edge of their seat.
“This part,” they whisper like it’s a holy event, “is amazing. Look at the detail in the spores. No rotoscoping, no shortcuts. Hand-drawn. Every frame a piece of art.”
“I get it, I get it,” I say, nudging them. “You’re gonna start tearing up or something.”
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“Just appreciating the craft, okay?” they say, but their tone is playful. “And, okay, you might actually like this movie if you pay attention for two seconds. I swear, it’s got… Sam vibes.”
I narrow my eyes. “What exactly does that mean? And don’t say ‘giant bugs,’ or I’m leaving.”
“No, it’s more the attitude,” they say, pushing the bowl of popcorn toward me. “You and her, you’ve got this thing where you’re trying to fix everything, even though the whole world is messed up and it’s kind of a pointless quest. But it’s the principle that counts, right? And that’s Nausicaä. She’s trying to make it better, even if it’s hopeless.”
"You saying my quest is a hopeless one?" I chew on a piece of popcorn, thinking that over. “Rude. So she’s stubborn. So what?”
“Stubborn, yes. Determined, also yes. And unlike you, she actually likes bugs, so maybe you could take a note or two.” They nudge me with their elbow. “Who knows, might expand your horizons.”
“Bugs are not horizons, Jordan,” I say, smirking. “But whatever, keep selling it.”
They go back to the screen, absolutely glued to it, and for a few minutes, I let myself get lost in the movie, in the weirdly beautiful scenery and the calming background music. There’s something oddly comforting about the way Jordan keeps giving me these little tidbits of info, talking over the movie like a really excitable encyclopedia page. It’s… nice, somehow, and I don’t realize how much time’s passed until the doorbell buzzes, and they practically leap to get the pizza.
“Food’s here!” they announce, carrying the box over like it’s the Ark of the Covenant. “Pepperoni and extra cheese, as the universe intended.”
“Finally,” I say, grabbing a slice and sinking into the beanbag chair again, feeling some of that earlier tension slip away. "That took way too long," I mumble.
"It's, like, 1 AM," Jordan says, as if that makes it feel any less… I don't know, not frustrating, it's not important enough to be frustrating. Mildly annoying.
We devour the pizza while Nausicaä ends, and Jordan immediately queues up something else, rambling excitedly about some cyberpunk anime from the 80s that’s “honestly underrated and criminally overlooked. They was going to be a sequel show in the early 2000s, but then the funding ran out, and…” Half of what they say goes over my head, but I let them go on, occasionally nodding and making little noises to show I’m listening.
After a while, I let my eyes close, just for a second, while they start explaining the plot of some other show. Or is it the same show? “So, basically, it’s this detective story, but with androids, and they’ve got this intense backstory about a rogue AI, and—hey, you falling asleep on me already?”
I sit up quickly, rubbing my eyes. “No, no. Just… resting them. I’m awake, promise.”
They give me a side-eye. “You’re such a liar. Don’t worry, I get it. Long day and all. Just glad you’re finally chilling out a little.”
I nod, not entirely sure what to say. “Thanks for… I don’t know. For this. For making me stop.”
“Hey, don’t thank me yet. We’re still going through ‘Ghost Blade’ if you’re not dead by morning,” they say, tossing me another piece of popcorn.
“Why are you so obsessed with all this weird old anime anyway?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Like, what’s so great about this weird stuff from Japan that American cartoons don't have?”
Jordan gives me a look like I’ve just asked the world’s most obvious question, leaning forward with that glint in their eye they always get when they’re about to go off on a monologue. “Okay, first of all, it’s not ‘weird stuff from Japan’—it’s anime. And there’s so much more to it than just cartoons. It’s… an art form. And they do stuff with stories that’s, like, way beyond what American animation even tries to do.”
“Right, because ‘Ghost Blade’ is, what, a deep philosophical treatise?” I smirk, but I’m only half-joking. I’ve never actually seen Jordan get so serious about anything.
“Yes, actually!” they say, grabbing another slice of pizza and gesturing with it like a professor making a point. “They’re not afraid to get messy, or dark, or, like, seriously intense. ‘Ghost Blade’ has layers. It’s not just about the action; it’s about exploring human nature, survival, betrayal, loyalty—like, it digs deep, man. And it’s gritty, but in a good way, you know?”
I give them a skeptical look, leaning back against the beanbag chair. “Yeah, but don’t you ever get tired of reading subtitles? It’s like… I dunno, extra work. And half of the time, they’re just yelling things like, ‘I’ll destroy you!’ or whatever.”
Jordan just shakes their head, looking almost offended. “Sam. Subtitles are a vibe. They force you to focus. You actually pay attention. Plus, you get to hear the actual voices, which are usually way better, honestly. And it’s like… pure imagination. No limits. They go places American cartoons just… wouldn’t.”
They settle back, pulling the bowl of popcorn onto their lap. “It’s like, these creators had a vision, and they just went for it. They weren’t worried about, like, making it family-friendly or whatever. They made what they wanted to make. And that’s… rare.”
I chew on a piece of popcorn, mulling that over. “I guess I get it. Kind of.” I nudge their arm, smirking. “But ‘Ghost Blade’ better be the ‘deepest’ thing I’ve ever seen, or I’m going back to ‘Blubberpals’ or something.”
They burst out laughing. “You’re seriously comparing ‘Blubberpals’ to ‘Ghost Blade’? I can’t believe this. I'm losing to a fifth grader's TV show about whales. I’m trying to expand your mind here, Sam.”
I shrug, still smirking. “Hey, I’m just saying, at least that show doesn’t require subtitles.”
They roll their eyes, throwing a popcorn kernel at me. “Illiterate.”
We both dissolve into laughter, and for a moment, it’s just us and the stupid movie playing in the background, the weird Japanese animation Jordan loves and the popcorn that’s somehow getting staler by the second. And as much as I pretend not to get it, there’s something… nice about being here, hearing them ramble on about anime plots and ideas I barely understand. It’s like their enthusiasm pulls me along, makes me want to get into it, even if just a little.
Around two in the morning, they’re starting to nod off, mid-rant about why “Ghost Blade” is a game-changer and way better than American cartoons. I’m still wired, probably from everything that happened today, so I turn down the volume, letting the movie hum in the background. They’re half-asleep next to me, slouched in that weird chair with the beanbag stuffed underneath it, balanced in a way only Jordan could manage.
That means I can actually get out now.