((Lukas Nielson continued from and i know i need relief))
Lukas wanted some time alone this lunch period. Ever since the previous night, Lukas's mind was unfocused. He hadn't touched his journal the entire day. Instead, he'd been constantly distracted by the pictures on his phone. Whenever he had the chance, he would flick through the images that he took last night, each one was a memory of the events constantly replaying in his mind. While he certainly felt powerful when he first took them, they had completely encompassed his mind ever since that it reached a point where the pictures were wielding their influence over him.
He wasn't sure what compelled him to keep thinking about the pictures. He could just be recognising the innate power that he held in his hands, enough to probably ruin people's lives. If Bret found out that Wyatt and Ivy had been getting cosy together, that would be a disaster for all involved parties. While Lukas would like to have seen Wyatt get his much-deserved comeuppance, Ivy would be dragged down with him. As much as he hated Ivy, he didn't want to make her life any worse than it already was just because she did something stupid while drunk. He attributed her actions more to the alcohol than her desire to be a harlot, though that wouldn't matter to people who weren't there. If anything, Ivy would probably get hurt by this more than Wyatt due to society's nature in general. That was a depressing thought.
Then there was the problem of what happened to him if they were ever released. It wouldn't take either of them long to put two and two together and find out he spread the pictures. Wyatt might honestly kill him. Ivy would work her ass off to make his life miserable. Neither sounded like entertaining prospects. Was it really worth it to do anything with these pictures? It would be easy to just delete them and pretend that nothing happened last night. If he wanted to stay safe, just drift through high school and make it to the end, that probably was the best thing he could do.
That would also mean that he'd be enabling Wyatt's behaviour. In a roundabout way, if he just let it happen, he would be condoning his predatory practices. In some ways, Lukas recognised that sitting on the sidelines could be just as bad as doing the action yourself. If Lukas had the power to do something, teach Wyatt a lesson and put him in his place, shouldn't he take it? It wasn't like anyone else was going to anytime soon.
Sitting in the top corner of the bleachers, Lukas absentmindedly began looking through the pictures again, the action becoming muscle-memory by this point. He didn't really know what he was going to achieve by doing so, but at least it passed the time while his thoughts and consequences whirled around his mind.
Expanding Your Horizons
Tagging Tristan
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jimmydalad
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Emprexx Plush
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"Watch yourself if you want to live, Fury~"
"Jesus I'd say the same but you already beat me to it, popped outta the coffin kinda early today didn't you?"
"Oh? I guess I shouldn't be surprised you want to die so badly. If I looked in the mirror and saw your face I'd have offed myself a long time ago~"
To paraphrase one of the great scholarly examinations of high school of our time: Ivy Langely. She is a mythic bitch.
Hel normally didn't respond to people like her. It was easier to keep their head down and just stick to the people they knew were worth talking to, for better or worse. Nobody in Ivy's crowd was in that list. Lately though...they were in a mood. Gods below they were in a fucking mood. They hadn't streamed all week. They'd missed practice this week. They weren't taking Lloyd's calls. They tried telling everyone they were busy, everyone they could get in touch with distantly at least. It was hard to do in person. They were never great at lying, and while it wasn't exactly a lie there was a whole lot going on under the surface.
They shouldn't look.
They didn't want to think about it.
They opened Discord anyway.
[spoiler]
I told you to tell me when you're hanging out with him
why is this such a big deal to you? he even has a girlfriend now, chill
So do you.
And?
And if you're fucking behind my back I don't see why you couldn't do it behind hers too if you need me to be that blunt
FYI
playing dumb every time just makes it more obvious when something's happen
If you don't have anything to hide you shouldn't have any problem talking to me when he's around
you understand?
yes kara
Glad to hear it, kitten.[/spoiler]
That was just yesterday night before bed. It went on and on and on. Even when they weren't saying anything she was there and some of it was good they couldn't pretend some of it wasn't good but it was so much and sometimes she was so scary and they didn't know how they got here and and and and-
It was a lot easier to be mad at Ivy Langely than to be terrified of their best friend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. They could hear her flaring up at that mistake even inside their own head, and they didn't want to hear that right now. So Ivy got to be their focus for lunch. That was the healthy way to handle this, right? Right. The problem was what to do about her. Last semester Hel spent three weeks weaving sigils, doing readings for weaknesses, and ritualistically giving Ivy's name and desires over to the flame again and again just to see if they could draw the gods collected to inflict terrible eternal ruin upon her soul. Perhaps their faith would have been a little shaken after seeing no spirit shattering kaboom after all that effort, but the obvious realization smacked them right in the face: there was nothing to damage in the first place. Ivy Langely had no soul. And try as they might, they couldn't keep their mind on her. Maybe they weren't hateful enough to be a good avatar of justice. No matter how much they thought about her and tried to be angry about everything she did, they just wound back around to pitying her. No, no, that was too benevolent. Practice was all about lying to yourself, but they couldn't manage it today. They weren't generously weeping over whatever tragedy marked Ivy's life. They just wondered if she was right. And then they knew she was right. And then they hated themself. It was a familiar mood. The easiest cure for it was lurking around school somewhere.
They glanced at Discord again.
[spoiler] hi hello hi sory sorry its late but can you talk for a little while
course babe always
whats up
h3lrzr started a call.[/spoiler]
He talked to them for three hours. Neither of them got that much sleep. They were kinda used to it. He'd been helping them a lot lately. It was easier to pretend it wasn't happening around Kara when they were just online together, especially when they could pretend they were asleep. They'd just turned on invisible so she didn't know and-
And never turned it off.
They should probably fix that before-
[spoiler] I know you're at school.
I know you have your phone.
You didn't even say good morning.
Late night?
Where were you?
Do I even need to ask?
Call me when you get home.
Don't bother trying to talk your way out I want to hear yo[/spoiler]
Between trying to hold down their panic and trying to keep their eyes on their phone that wouldn't stop fucking trembling in their shitty hands Hel missed the bleachers coming up directly in front of them until one its long seats slammed right into their stomach.
"Jesus I'd say the same but you already beat me to it, popped outta the coffin kinda early today didn't you?"
"Oh? I guess I shouldn't be surprised you want to die so badly. If I looked in the mirror and saw your face I'd have offed myself a long time ago~"
To paraphrase one of the great scholarly examinations of high school of our time: Ivy Langely. She is a mythic bitch.
Hel normally didn't respond to people like her. It was easier to keep their head down and just stick to the people they knew were worth talking to, for better or worse. Nobody in Ivy's crowd was in that list. Lately though...they were in a mood. Gods below they were in a fucking mood. They hadn't streamed all week. They'd missed practice this week. They weren't taking Lloyd's calls. They tried telling everyone they were busy, everyone they could get in touch with distantly at least. It was hard to do in person. They were never great at lying, and while it wasn't exactly a lie there was a whole lot going on under the surface.
They shouldn't look.
They didn't want to think about it.
They opened Discord anyway.
[spoiler]
I told you to tell me when you're hanging out with him why is this such a big deal to you? he even has a girlfriend now, chill So do you. And? And if you're fucking behind my back I don't see why you couldn't do it behind hers too if you need me to be that blunt FYI playing dumb every time just makes it more obvious when something's happen If you don't have anything to hide you shouldn't have any problem talking to me when he's around you understand? yes kara Glad to hear it, kitten.[/spoiler]That was just yesterday night before bed. It went on and on and on. Even when they weren't saying anything she was there and some of it was good they couldn't pretend some of it wasn't good but it was so much and sometimes she was so scary and they didn't know how they got here and and and and-
It was a lot easier to be mad at Ivy Langely than to be terrified of their best friend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. They could hear her flaring up at that mistake even inside their own head, and they didn't want to hear that right now. So Ivy got to be their focus for lunch. That was the healthy way to handle this, right? Right. The problem was what to do about her. Last semester Hel spent three weeks weaving sigils, doing readings for weaknesses, and ritualistically giving Ivy's name and desires over to the flame again and again just to see if they could draw the gods collected to inflict terrible eternal ruin upon her soul. Perhaps their faith would have been a little shaken after seeing no spirit shattering kaboom after all that effort, but the obvious realization smacked them right in the face: there was nothing to damage in the first place. Ivy Langely had no soul. And try as they might, they couldn't keep their mind on her. Maybe they weren't hateful enough to be a good avatar of justice. No matter how much they thought about her and tried to be angry about everything she did, they just wound back around to pitying her. No, no, that was too benevolent. Practice was all about lying to yourself, but they couldn't manage it today. They weren't generously weeping over whatever tragedy marked Ivy's life. They just wondered if she was right. And then they knew she was right. And then they hated themself. It was a familiar mood. The easiest cure for it was lurking around school somewhere.
They glanced at Discord again.
[spoiler]
hi hello hi sory sorry its late but can you talk for a little while course babe always whats uph3lrzr started a call.[/spoiler]
He talked to them for three hours. Neither of them got that much sleep. They were kinda used to it. He'd been helping them a lot lately. It was easier to pretend it wasn't happening around Kara when they were just online together, especially when they could pretend they were asleep. They'd just turned on invisible so she didn't know and-
And never turned it off.
They should probably fix that before-
[spoiler]
I know you're at school. I know you have your phone. You didn't even say good morning. Late night? Where were you? Do I even need to ask? Call me when you get home. Don't bother trying to talk your way out I want to hear yo[/spoiler]Between trying to hold down their panic and trying to keep their eyes on their phone that wouldn't stop fucking trembling in their shitty hands Hel missed the bleachers coming up directly in front of them until one its long seats slammed right into their stomach.
((Tristan O'Hara continued from Let Me Borrow That Top))
Tristan was never drinking again.
That was a notion he was all too familiar with, and he knew that the second it flew into his head was most assuredly the nail in the coffin. It would ultimately prove to be false, but if the throbbing headache and cold shakes rushing through his body was enough to even contemplate such a change, then he was in for a rough day ahead.
Tristan was lucky that he didn't really get hangovers. In his years of drinking he'd found what worked and what didn't. He metabolised his alcohol, proved remarkably astute (mostly) at mixing – though he always tried his hardest to avoid doing so – and drank plenty of water and ate quite a few carbs before, during, and after. But every so often, despite his best efforts, all of those precautions would go out the window and he'd pay the price. Or sometimes his body would just choose to be disagreeable with him and say, 'you know what? Tristan hasn't been hunched over the toilet, trying to cover up the sound of him gagging and questioning why his bile is that colour for quite a few months now, and it's time to change that!'
Last night had been one of those days. Drinking on a school night was practically begging for disaster to befall him, and a combination of dodgy microwave carbonara and a glass too many of too strong a wine had landed him in his current state.
He thought it would be best to take his lunch outside today, hoping the natural light and fresh air would help clear his grogginess, even if only a little. As he tromped through the playing fields, painfully aware of the squeak of his shoes against the grass, Tristan figured he probably looked like a right mess. He'd thrown on the first things he could find in his wardrobe, trying to put together an outfit that was comfortable enough but also didn't scream 'hungover baby' too loudly. A pink bomber jacket, his Aja t-shirt, tight, caramel-coloured shorts, and tan boots, along with a pair of oversized, rounded sunglasses made up his ensemble of the day, and though he wouldn't say it was anything ground-breaking or Instagram worthy, it got the job done.
Thankfully outside seemed moderately deserted, save for Lukas Nielson, sitting up near the top of the bleachers and scrolling through his phone and looking more than a little dejected. Lukas occupied a strange middle ground for Tristan – someone whom he'd shared the odd class with, seen at parties, even had idle conversation – but not someone he'd be pressed to call a good friend (or even a friend, at that). He was a little cutie, though, and Tristan had always had some lingering desire to get to know him more than just 'that kid I sat a row behind in English a year ago'. So, he didn't think twice about making a beeline for the bleachers and beginning to make a climb that on any other day wouldn't have been strenuous but today felt like ascending Mount Everest.
It sucked that he wasn't in the greatest of spirits, but better to have company and be a little messy than to be in a similar state and by oneself.
"Hey Lukas!" He would've waved in accompaniment with his greeting, but his hands were otherwise occupied – a steaming cup of ramen noodles (he'd off-handedly mentioned the pallet Myles' parents had bought a few months back to his own parents, and they'd swiftly followed suit) in one hand and a can of energy drink in the other. His voice was a little rough around the edges and he couldn't help but thank whatever deities existed that he didn't have choir practice or theatre rehearsal today.
Tristan was about halfway up when a sudden thump caught his attention, causing him to spin in the direction of the sound and cringe at the cacophony that made his brain feel as thought it was on the cusp of exploding. He gently placed his belongings on the nearest seat with as much grace as he was capable and peered over at the figure below, worry etched into his features and flowing through his veins as he caught a glimpse at the source of the noise.
"Oh, shit, Hel! Are you algood?"
Tristan was never drinking again.
That was a notion he was all too familiar with, and he knew that the second it flew into his head was most assuredly the nail in the coffin. It would ultimately prove to be false, but if the throbbing headache and cold shakes rushing through his body was enough to even contemplate such a change, then he was in for a rough day ahead.
Tristan was lucky that he didn't really get hangovers. In his years of drinking he'd found what worked and what didn't. He metabolised his alcohol, proved remarkably astute (mostly) at mixing – though he always tried his hardest to avoid doing so – and drank plenty of water and ate quite a few carbs before, during, and after. But every so often, despite his best efforts, all of those precautions would go out the window and he'd pay the price. Or sometimes his body would just choose to be disagreeable with him and say, 'you know what? Tristan hasn't been hunched over the toilet, trying to cover up the sound of him gagging and questioning why his bile is that colour for quite a few months now, and it's time to change that!'
Last night had been one of those days. Drinking on a school night was practically begging for disaster to befall him, and a combination of dodgy microwave carbonara and a glass too many of too strong a wine had landed him in his current state.
He thought it would be best to take his lunch outside today, hoping the natural light and fresh air would help clear his grogginess, even if only a little. As he tromped through the playing fields, painfully aware of the squeak of his shoes against the grass, Tristan figured he probably looked like a right mess. He'd thrown on the first things he could find in his wardrobe, trying to put together an outfit that was comfortable enough but also didn't scream 'hungover baby' too loudly. A pink bomber jacket, his Aja t-shirt, tight, caramel-coloured shorts, and tan boots, along with a pair of oversized, rounded sunglasses made up his ensemble of the day, and though he wouldn't say it was anything ground-breaking or Instagram worthy, it got the job done.
Thankfully outside seemed moderately deserted, save for Lukas Nielson, sitting up near the top of the bleachers and scrolling through his phone and looking more than a little dejected. Lukas occupied a strange middle ground for Tristan – someone whom he'd shared the odd class with, seen at parties, even had idle conversation – but not someone he'd be pressed to call a good friend (or even a friend, at that). He was a little cutie, though, and Tristan had always had some lingering desire to get to know him more than just 'that kid I sat a row behind in English a year ago'. So, he didn't think twice about making a beeline for the bleachers and beginning to make a climb that on any other day wouldn't have been strenuous but today felt like ascending Mount Everest.
It sucked that he wasn't in the greatest of spirits, but better to have company and be a little messy than to be in a similar state and by oneself.
"Hey Lukas!" He would've waved in accompaniment with his greeting, but his hands were otherwise occupied – a steaming cup of ramen noodles (he'd off-handedly mentioned the pallet Myles' parents had bought a few months back to his own parents, and they'd swiftly followed suit) in one hand and a can of energy drink in the other. His voice was a little rough around the edges and he couldn't help but thank whatever deities existed that he didn't have choir practice or theatre rehearsal today.
Tristan was about halfway up when a sudden thump caught his attention, causing him to spin in the direction of the sound and cringe at the cacophony that made his brain feel as thought it was on the cusp of exploding. He gently placed his belongings on the nearest seat with as much grace as he was capable and peered over at the figure below, worry etched into his features and flowing through his veins as he caught a glimpse at the source of the noise.
"Oh, shit, Hel! Are you algood?"
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jimmydalad
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Lukas was suddenly snapped out of his self-induced trance by someone calling out to him. Wrenching his eyes away from his phone, his senses were immediately assaulted by the sight of Tristan. Lukas would charitably describe Tristan's sense of fashion as eclectic at best. He could say with confidence that Tristan tended to stand out, though sometimes not for reasons Tristan would want to hear. In general, Lukas was always wary of the theatre kid, mostly due to no fault of his own. From what he had heard, Tristan was a nice guy, if not a bit reckless when it came to sex and relationships. Lukas was probably one of the only LGBT guys Tristan hadn't slept with and Tristan's reputation didn't do much to endear him to sharing a bed anytime soon. There was also the problem that he spent an unhealthy amount of time with people like Myles and Ivy. In general, Lukas tended to err on the side of caution and keep his interactions with Tristan to a minimum, rather than risking getting dragged into whatever drama would happen if they were to become friends. Though, with recent events, he probably really shouldn't be talking about staying out of the drama.
That didn't mean he was ready to talk with Tristan. In fact, he was almost a deer in the headlights as Tristan made his way towards him. There was no way in hell that he wanted Tristan to find out about the photos on his phone. It was far too soon for that. No need to cause the fire if you don't want to ignite it just yet. Quickly closing his photos, he locked his phone and tucked it away in his pocket.
"Oh hey, Tristan," Lukas responded cautiously. His reactions were a defence mechanism, a behaviour that resulted from a history of rumours and bullying within the last few years. There was a concern at the back of his head whether Ivy or Myles put him up to this. He probably came off cooler than he intended, but Lukas couldn't fully hold back the nervous tension that was coalescing inside him, added to the anxiety he felt about the pictures. He gave Tristan a smile, but it was muted and more put upon than he would've liked.
The appearance of Hel as his unintentional saviour was very much welcomed. Hel was familiar territory. Lukas had spent time with them and knew they weren't going to rat him out to the Undesirables at a moment's notice. Though the circumstances of her entrance were less than desirable, at least he wasn't going to be alone in a potential interrogation with Tristan.
As Tristan called out to Hel, Lukas pushed himself off the bleachers and ran down to them, making sure to avoid the things that Tristan had laid down next to him. He had to check they were ok, made sure that the bleachers didn't hurt them too much. Granted, there was a part of him that was doing this to avoid being cornered on the bleachers, but his main priority was still Hel's safety. Once he had reached Hel, he made sure to help them up, picking up a phone nearby as he did so.
"Hey Hel, you ok?" He asked, giving them a pat on the back before passing the phone over to her. "I think this is yours."
Ok, he wasn't alone anymore. He could totally do this. Even if Tristan tried to go hard on him, Hel would be there by his side. Tristan seemed to be worried too, which was a good sign. Maybe this won't be as bad as he thought.
"Let's go sit down on the bleachers. Tristan, mind making some space for Hel?"
That didn't mean he was ready to talk with Tristan. In fact, he was almost a deer in the headlights as Tristan made his way towards him. There was no way in hell that he wanted Tristan to find out about the photos on his phone. It was far too soon for that. No need to cause the fire if you don't want to ignite it just yet. Quickly closing his photos, he locked his phone and tucked it away in his pocket.
"Oh hey, Tristan," Lukas responded cautiously. His reactions were a defence mechanism, a behaviour that resulted from a history of rumours and bullying within the last few years. There was a concern at the back of his head whether Ivy or Myles put him up to this. He probably came off cooler than he intended, but Lukas couldn't fully hold back the nervous tension that was coalescing inside him, added to the anxiety he felt about the pictures. He gave Tristan a smile, but it was muted and more put upon than he would've liked.
The appearance of Hel as his unintentional saviour was very much welcomed. Hel was familiar territory. Lukas had spent time with them and knew they weren't going to rat him out to the Undesirables at a moment's notice. Though the circumstances of her entrance were less than desirable, at least he wasn't going to be alone in a potential interrogation with Tristan.
As Tristan called out to Hel, Lukas pushed himself off the bleachers and ran down to them, making sure to avoid the things that Tristan had laid down next to him. He had to check they were ok, made sure that the bleachers didn't hurt them too much. Granted, there was a part of him that was doing this to avoid being cornered on the bleachers, but his main priority was still Hel's safety. Once he had reached Hel, he made sure to help them up, picking up a phone nearby as he did so.
"Hey Hel, you ok?" He asked, giving them a pat on the back before passing the phone over to her. "I think this is yours."
Ok, he wasn't alone anymore. He could totally do this. Even if Tristan tried to go hard on him, Hel would be there by his side. Tristan seemed to be worried too, which was a good sign. Maybe this won't be as bad as he thought.
"Let's go sit down on the bleachers. Tristan, mind making some space for Hel?"
Everything was mildly fuzzy. Getting three hours of sleep would do that to you, no matter how used to it you were.
But like, you had to prioritize, y'know? And Axel was pretty convinced he'd gotten his priorities exactly right.
>> AXEL FONTAINE: START
It had been a long-ass day already, and it was only lunch. He swore sometimes he must be nocturnal or some shit, because his body only ever seemed to want to shut down during school hours. At night there were so many better things to do: practicing new songs, getting into a new book, Overwatch. Mostly Overwatch. Like, probably 85% Overwatch. But last night he'd actually gotten something productive done and picked up a new song, before and after he spent three hours listening to his best friend's voice and growing steadily more pissed off. Sure, it wasn't his business. Not really. They'd just had a fight with their girlfriend, that was a thing that happened in relationships sometimes, and sometimes Hel talked about Kara and they seemed so happy and god did Hel not smile nearly enough and anything that made them was a gift. But those times seemed further and further between lately, and these late-night calls became more and more frequent, and Axel didn't make a point of hitting girls and Kara wasn't exactly present but even thinking about the way Hel's voice caught in their throat was making his blood boil and
He was suddenly aware of just how hard his nails were digging into his palms. He needed a cigarette before he hit something.
Axel probably should've headed to the cafeteria for lunch, but the need for nicotine was winning out, as it often did. He dug a cigarette out of his pocket and tucked it behind his ear as he walked out the front door, his eyes trained toward the football field. Technically, he wasn't supposed to smoke on campus—his dumb ass for some reason assumed he'd be fine once he turned eighteen, but no, the GHHS gestapo wouldn't allow it—but the snowfall of cigarette butts under the bleachers betrayed the reality that no one actually gave a shit. There was a chill in the air as usual, something else he was willing to the ignore for the sake of getting smoke in his lungs. What he wasn't willing to ignore, however, were the figures standing on the bleachers as he approached.
His eyes lit up immediately. He could wait a few more minutes.
"Hel!" Axel grinned as he approached, waving. "Should've told me you were coming out. I would've-"
He'd only moved his gaze off of Hel out of vague curiosity, and he saw one kid he only vaguely recognized (one of the Lucases, he thought?), but when he lit upon Tristan his voice caught for just a moment.
"-would've come out with you to begin with. And uh, hey, Tristan."
Axel smoothed his hair back awkwardly. The mood was giving him whiplash.
But like, you had to prioritize, y'know? And Axel was pretty convinced he'd gotten his priorities exactly right.
>> AXEL FONTAINE: START
It had been a long-ass day already, and it was only lunch. He swore sometimes he must be nocturnal or some shit, because his body only ever seemed to want to shut down during school hours. At night there were so many better things to do: practicing new songs, getting into a new book, Overwatch. Mostly Overwatch. Like, probably 85% Overwatch. But last night he'd actually gotten something productive done and picked up a new song, before and after he spent three hours listening to his best friend's voice and growing steadily more pissed off. Sure, it wasn't his business. Not really. They'd just had a fight with their girlfriend, that was a thing that happened in relationships sometimes, and sometimes Hel talked about Kara and they seemed so happy and god did Hel not smile nearly enough and anything that made them was a gift. But those times seemed further and further between lately, and these late-night calls became more and more frequent, and Axel didn't make a point of hitting girls and Kara wasn't exactly present but even thinking about the way Hel's voice caught in their throat was making his blood boil and
He was suddenly aware of just how hard his nails were digging into his palms. He needed a cigarette before he hit something.
Axel probably should've headed to the cafeteria for lunch, but the need for nicotine was winning out, as it often did. He dug a cigarette out of his pocket and tucked it behind his ear as he walked out the front door, his eyes trained toward the football field. Technically, he wasn't supposed to smoke on campus—his dumb ass for some reason assumed he'd be fine once he turned eighteen, but no, the GHHS gestapo wouldn't allow it—but the snowfall of cigarette butts under the bleachers betrayed the reality that no one actually gave a shit. There was a chill in the air as usual, something else he was willing to the ignore for the sake of getting smoke in his lungs. What he wasn't willing to ignore, however, were the figures standing on the bleachers as he approached.
His eyes lit up immediately. He could wait a few more minutes.
"Hel!" Axel grinned as he approached, waving. "Should've told me you were coming out. I would've-"
He'd only moved his gaze off of Hel out of vague curiosity, and he saw one kid he only vaguely recognized (one of the Lucases, he thought?), but when he lit upon Tristan his voice caught for just a moment.
"-would've come out with you to begin with. And uh, hey, Tristan."
Axel smoothed his hair back awkwardly. The mood was giving him whiplash.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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Emprexx Plush
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When you're a clutz your entire life, you get used to certain things. Stuff breaks a lot around you, you get a lot of stains on your clothes, and if you haven't tripped, smashed, stumbled, or slammed into something in the last five minutes, the universe has overlooked you. You should expect retribution to be terrible and swift. When it comes, you should apologize before it gets worse. So it is written, so it shall be. So while the first thing out of Hel's mouth was a garbled yelp, the first intelligible thing to follow was "Sorry!"
You might be thinking, 'Hel, that's pretty silly, the bench can't hear you,' and y'know, maybe you're right. Whether benches can or can't hear is a fact we haven't conclusively deduced yet, history's gonna have to sort that one out. The universe was listening though and the universe liked it when you put on a kind face and don't you want the universe to like you? The universe is a pretty big place and you've gotta live there pretty much forever so like, a good professional working relationship seems like a swood idea no matter what.
'But Hel,' you might chime in, 'Don't you think you look kinda dumb and also there's real actual people talking to you and you aren't saying anything to them?"
Listen.
Listen.
Benches could be people too. You don't know. How much Disney have you watched? Apparently everything can be people. Bugs, monsters, bears, toys, cars, robots, The Jonas Brothers, all secretly people and nobody even knows! But Hel knew. Because Hel watched a lot of Disney. Even Cars. Even Cars 2. That's the level of commitment and sincerity they bring to the table in this debate so you'd best be ready to back yourself up. And sure, they maybe looked silly now. Stupid even! But we'll see who looks stupid when the benches rise up and remember who looked out for them. We'll fucking see, won't we?
Mental tangents like this helped Hel put off interfacing with reality for as long as they could, but there were still three whole people calling out to them and an uncountable number of benches who could be trying to make first contact. Lukas's hand on their back gave them a shiver and jerked them back a little faster than expected. The phone in his hand might have been somebody's head. "Haha, yeah, thanks. I spaced out," they said quietly. After a couple of hesitant moments they took the phone and awkwardly passed it between their hands. It'd be nice to hide the phone somewhere deep and dark where they wouldn't have to think about it for a little bit, but they'd been in a hurry and grabbed the wrong jeans with the wrong not-pockets that they would have given over to the flames months ago if they didn't inexplicably make their ass look fantastic. That was great and all but it so wasn't the mood today and they could hear Kara's voice in the back of their head icily asking who they were showing off for when they called tonight. 'You' was never a believable answer for some reason. Might be why they stopped trying.
Gods they were the worst. They needed to stop thinking about it and just change before they got on video tonight. Their attention shifted to Lukas and Tristan. "Sorry, didn't mean to bother you guys. What's up?" Without much thought they hooked their arm through Axel's and gave his hand a squeeze. They didn't look right at him or say anything. He'd know. Gods he probably already knew. He was denser than Andy or Forrest but he still nailed their moods pretty well. They didn't want to make it a thing right now though. There'd be plenty of time to stew later.
You might be thinking, 'Hel, that's pretty silly, the bench can't hear you,' and y'know, maybe you're right. Whether benches can or can't hear is a fact we haven't conclusively deduced yet, history's gonna have to sort that one out. The universe was listening though and the universe liked it when you put on a kind face and don't you want the universe to like you? The universe is a pretty big place and you've gotta live there pretty much forever so like, a good professional working relationship seems like a swood idea no matter what.
'But Hel,' you might chime in, 'Don't you think you look kinda dumb and also there's real actual people talking to you and you aren't saying anything to them?"
Listen.
Listen.
Benches could be people too. You don't know. How much Disney have you watched? Apparently everything can be people. Bugs, monsters, bears, toys, cars, robots, The Jonas Brothers, all secretly people and nobody even knows! But Hel knew. Because Hel watched a lot of Disney. Even Cars. Even Cars 2. That's the level of commitment and sincerity they bring to the table in this debate so you'd best be ready to back yourself up. And sure, they maybe looked silly now. Stupid even! But we'll see who looks stupid when the benches rise up and remember who looked out for them. We'll fucking see, won't we?
Mental tangents like this helped Hel put off interfacing with reality for as long as they could, but there were still three whole people calling out to them and an uncountable number of benches who could be trying to make first contact. Lukas's hand on their back gave them a shiver and jerked them back a little faster than expected. The phone in his hand might have been somebody's head. "Haha, yeah, thanks. I spaced out," they said quietly. After a couple of hesitant moments they took the phone and awkwardly passed it between their hands. It'd be nice to hide the phone somewhere deep and dark where they wouldn't have to think about it for a little bit, but they'd been in a hurry and grabbed the wrong jeans with the wrong not-pockets that they would have given over to the flames months ago if they didn't inexplicably make their ass look fantastic. That was great and all but it so wasn't the mood today and they could hear Kara's voice in the back of their head icily asking who they were showing off for when they called tonight. 'You' was never a believable answer for some reason. Might be why they stopped trying.
Gods they were the worst. They needed to stop thinking about it and just change before they got on video tonight. Their attention shifted to Lukas and Tristan. "Sorry, didn't mean to bother you guys. What's up?" Without much thought they hooked their arm through Axel's and gave his hand a squeeze. They didn't look right at him or say anything. He'd know. Gods he probably already knew. He was denser than Andy or Forrest but he still nailed their moods pretty well. They didn't want to make it a thing right now though. There'd be plenty of time to stew later.
Tristan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Lukas' comments; he knew the action would've been covered up by his sunglasses, but it would be a dangerous habit to start developing. He couldn't really see why Lukas had asked him to make room for Hel – the bleachers were pretty deserted so it wasn't as though there was a shortage of space. Why waste the energy asking?
"Ya, for sure," Tristan half-murmured, taking half a step backwards and hoping that would satisfy Lukas' request. As he moved, Tristan couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the reason Lukas actively asked him to get out of the way had something more too it. Was his reputation that poor outside of his immediate friend group that those who didn't know him well thought his natural instinct would be to take up as much space as humanly possible and therefore it would be a perfectly reasonable assumption that he wouldn't automatically think to make room for Hel? Pushy, attention-whore theatre baby and all that?
Then again, more than a couple friends had confided to him or made passing comments about how they thought Lukas seemed stuck-up and as if he had a 'holier-than-thou' attitude. Tristan had put such comments down to people blowing things out of proportion, but considering how he'd held a similar grain-of-salt attitude towards what he'd heard of Madison and how badly that had turned out, it did make him wonder.
But at the end of the day, Madison and Lukas were two very different people – it just wouldn't do to lump them in with each other like that. Tristan rubbed his head to soothe the ache still lingering there, reaching for his noodle cup with his free hand. He took a hefty mouthful of the hot pasta, hoping the saltiness of his meal would draw him away from having such a salty attitude.
It wasn't long before someone else entered the scene: Axel Fontaine. Axel of the plaid coat and stunning curls and magic voice and the boy whose mere touch sent electricity racing through him. He was the sorta guy Tristan wanted to jump on whenever he got the chance, the first name he thought of and the first person he'd turn to whenever he was feeling in a certain mood. The closest thing to regular companionship he had, really. And for that, Tristan owed Axel a great deal.
"Sup, Axel?" He raised his eyebrows and smirked in the other boy's direction.
He watched as he and Hel linked hands and smiled. They were a cute couple.
"I'm doing alright!" He offered by way of reply to Hel's query. "Got my noodles and my Red Bull so we Gucci. Do you need anything, though? You took a bit of a bump there. I mean, my medical knowledge isn't all that great, but I played a nurse in a show once so maybe that counts for something?"
"Ya, for sure," Tristan half-murmured, taking half a step backwards and hoping that would satisfy Lukas' request. As he moved, Tristan couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the reason Lukas actively asked him to get out of the way had something more too it. Was his reputation that poor outside of his immediate friend group that those who didn't know him well thought his natural instinct would be to take up as much space as humanly possible and therefore it would be a perfectly reasonable assumption that he wouldn't automatically think to make room for Hel? Pushy, attention-whore theatre baby and all that?
Then again, more than a couple friends had confided to him or made passing comments about how they thought Lukas seemed stuck-up and as if he had a 'holier-than-thou' attitude. Tristan had put such comments down to people blowing things out of proportion, but considering how he'd held a similar grain-of-salt attitude towards what he'd heard of Madison and how badly that had turned out, it did make him wonder.
But at the end of the day, Madison and Lukas were two very different people – it just wouldn't do to lump them in with each other like that. Tristan rubbed his head to soothe the ache still lingering there, reaching for his noodle cup with his free hand. He took a hefty mouthful of the hot pasta, hoping the saltiness of his meal would draw him away from having such a salty attitude.
It wasn't long before someone else entered the scene: Axel Fontaine. Axel of the plaid coat and stunning curls and magic voice and the boy whose mere touch sent electricity racing through him. He was the sorta guy Tristan wanted to jump on whenever he got the chance, the first name he thought of and the first person he'd turn to whenever he was feeling in a certain mood. The closest thing to regular companionship he had, really. And for that, Tristan owed Axel a great deal.
"Sup, Axel?" He raised his eyebrows and smirked in the other boy's direction.
He watched as he and Hel linked hands and smiled. They were a cute couple.
"I'm doing alright!" He offered by way of reply to Hel's query. "Got my noodles and my Red Bull so we Gucci. Do you need anything, though? You took a bit of a bump there. I mean, my medical knowledge isn't all that great, but I played a nurse in a show once so maybe that counts for something?"
[[jimmy ilu but its been more than five weeks >_>]]
Axel felt something familiar as Hel's arm linked with his, as their hands wrapped together. Their connection was... it was something. He didn't believe in, like, fate or destiny or really anything beyond the reality he could see in front of him, so he wasn't the type to couch it in those bullshit terms, but it was something. He always knew, and he knew now, that something was wrong. Something beyond them stumbling stomach-first into a bench, which wasn't, like, not common. Hel was overflowing with positive qualities. Grace wasn't really one of them.
Anyway, Tristan and Hel were close enough, but now probably wasn't the time to bring things up. He squeezed their hand a little harder. He knew they'd know he knew.
Tristan, though. Goddamn. That smirk of his was deadly. There was always something weird about seeing him in the light of day, fully clothed and fully sober; their encounters were always like something in a dream, strange to confront in waking. Strange, but not unpleasant. The guilt that plagued him when he eyed, say, Myles or Kayden in the halls didn't touch him when he looked at Tristan. His pulse quickened, instead. He lost his place. It was... kind of a tricky feeling to deal with, especially considering that he couldn't do anything about it now. Hell, he probably shouldn't be holding Hel's hand either. This whole being the Single One business was a pain in the ass.
... Not that Hel's girl was here right now. He squeezed Hel's hand again.
"Hel. Babe. Don't sacrifice yourself to the bench gods. They crave blood. But, like, we need a bassist." Axel led them to a seat on the bleachers, not letting go of their hand until they were both sitting. He eyed Tristan, having at least sort of kind of composed himself.
"Lunch of champions. Hel's okay, yeah?" His gaze moved back to them. "Hit me if I'm wrong."
Axel felt something familiar as Hel's arm linked with his, as their hands wrapped together. Their connection was... it was something. He didn't believe in, like, fate or destiny or really anything beyond the reality he could see in front of him, so he wasn't the type to couch it in those bullshit terms, but it was something. He always knew, and he knew now, that something was wrong. Something beyond them stumbling stomach-first into a bench, which wasn't, like, not common. Hel was overflowing with positive qualities. Grace wasn't really one of them.
Anyway, Tristan and Hel were close enough, but now probably wasn't the time to bring things up. He squeezed their hand a little harder. He knew they'd know he knew.
Tristan, though. Goddamn. That smirk of his was deadly. There was always something weird about seeing him in the light of day, fully clothed and fully sober; their encounters were always like something in a dream, strange to confront in waking. Strange, but not unpleasant. The guilt that plagued him when he eyed, say, Myles or Kayden in the halls didn't touch him when he looked at Tristan. His pulse quickened, instead. He lost his place. It was... kind of a tricky feeling to deal with, especially considering that he couldn't do anything about it now. Hell, he probably shouldn't be holding Hel's hand either. This whole being the Single One business was a pain in the ass.
... Not that Hel's girl was here right now. He squeezed Hel's hand again.
"Hel. Babe. Don't sacrifice yourself to the bench gods. They crave blood. But, like, we need a bassist." Axel led them to a seat on the bleachers, not letting go of their hand until they were both sitting. He eyed Tristan, having at least sort of kind of composed himself.
"Lunch of champions. Hel's okay, yeah?" His gaze moved back to them. "Hit me if I'm wrong."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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Emprexx Plush
- Posts: 1678
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 3:37 pm
- Contact:
Having somebody who always has your back is nice. Like, you didn't even need that sentence finished did you? It sounds good. Somebody you can 100% rely on without thinking about is good even if you can't imagine someone like that for yourself. You kinda want it. There's no point in denying that. Maybe they'd have to meet some insanely high standard to get there, but someone who always understands, who always gets you and protects you, who wouldn't want that?
It's really shitty sometimes. How are you supposed to lie to somebody like that?
Lunch of champions. Hel's okay, yeah? Hit me if I'm wrong.
Swing and a miss there, tiger. Hel wasn't okay. They could pretend they were okay to Lukas because hey, barely knew him right? Tristan was easy too, he was good people but he wasn't deep in their space. They weren't really even sure they trusted him all that far no matter how much they adored him. Axel, though...what was the point of lying to him? He'd see through it, right? He'd nail them on their bullshit and get all tough and protective and puff his chest out about who he needed to go beat up and it'd be real real cute. It probably shouldn't be; Axe would actually hurt somebody for them, they shouldn't encourage that. He came by enough of that honest on his own.
They were fidgeting in place. People were staring. Where were they?
Oh. Yeah. The shitty part. 'Cuz the shitty part wasn't that he'd know if they lied. The shitty part was wondering if they'd get away with it. He wouldn't know, or if he did he'd give them the space they were asking for by pushing him away. It could disappear for them to face alone later, because that's what they asked of him. He'd help if they asked. He'd leave if they asked. He had their back, 100%.
"Hey," they said slowly, "can we talk for a sec? It's a...thing? Band thing? Secret band thing?" Bad excuses. Rookie moves in the final...inning? Quarter? Whatever hockey has? Let's be real they weren't sure which metaphor was more appropriate or if maybe they all were or if maybe none of them were and also if golf has names or was that just holes that'd be weird are they just trying to pump the numbers quit your bullshit golf baseball's already pushing it with making us count to 9 and you want 18 you motherfucker oh we're walking we've been walking for awhile what're we doing agai-
Their phone buzzed, but they didn't feel it. They cocked their head to follow the sound into Axel's palm. It wasn't clear from this anger if he was still smoking or if his anger had manifested into a physical presence, like an aura or maybe a Stand. They hoped it was a Stand. Figuring out its powers would distract them internally screaming about giving him their phone. He'd never actually seen the things Kara said first hand.
It's fine.
This is fine.
Definitely the most reasonable way to handle this that won't result in everyone going fucking ballistic.
It's really shitty sometimes. How are you supposed to lie to somebody like that?
Lunch of champions. Hel's okay, yeah? Hit me if I'm wrong.
Swing and a miss there, tiger. Hel wasn't okay. They could pretend they were okay to Lukas because hey, barely knew him right? Tristan was easy too, he was good people but he wasn't deep in their space. They weren't really even sure they trusted him all that far no matter how much they adored him. Axel, though...what was the point of lying to him? He'd see through it, right? He'd nail them on their bullshit and get all tough and protective and puff his chest out about who he needed to go beat up and it'd be real real cute. It probably shouldn't be; Axe would actually hurt somebody for them, they shouldn't encourage that. He came by enough of that honest on his own.
They were fidgeting in place. People were staring. Where were they?
Oh. Yeah. The shitty part. 'Cuz the shitty part wasn't that he'd know if they lied. The shitty part was wondering if they'd get away with it. He wouldn't know, or if he did he'd give them the space they were asking for by pushing him away. It could disappear for them to face alone later, because that's what they asked of him. He'd help if they asked. He'd leave if they asked. He had their back, 100%.
"Hey," they said slowly, "can we talk for a sec? It's a...thing? Band thing? Secret band thing?" Bad excuses. Rookie moves in the final...inning? Quarter? Whatever hockey has? Let's be real they weren't sure which metaphor was more appropriate or if maybe they all were or if maybe none of them were and also if golf has names or was that just holes that'd be weird are they just trying to pump the numbers quit your bullshit golf baseball's already pushing it with making us count to 9 and you want 18 you motherfucker oh we're walking we've been walking for awhile what're we doing agai-
Their phone buzzed, but they didn't feel it. They cocked their head to follow the sound into Axel's palm. It wasn't clear from this anger if he was still smoking or if his anger had manifested into a physical presence, like an aura or maybe a Stand. They hoped it was a Stand. Figuring out its powers would distract them internally screaming about giving him their phone. He'd never actually seen the things Kara said first hand.
It's fine.
This is fine.
Definitely the most reasonable way to handle this that won't result in everyone going fucking ballistic.
[[permission 2 skip and 2 do stuff w/ hel granted]]
Axel wasn't sure what he was expecting, exactly, but Hel's phone left behind in his hand, buzzing insistently, wasn't it.
Their words didn't make any goddamn sense either. Secret band thing? He considered it for a second, cause Hel wasn't in the business for lying to him, but even if there was some Secret Band Thing the only people they'd be hiding it from would be Depeche Lite, and also what the fuck would even constitute a secret band thing, why was he even dwelling on this. Axel knew Hel too well to miss the admittedly barely disguised distress in their voice, or the way their hands were trembling. The chances that the phone wasn't the cause, or at least a factor, seemed vanishingly low. Axel glanced at the phone. The last message was innocuous, but the name made his eye twitch. It was always fucking Kara, wasn't it?
Hit me if I'm wrong. They hadn't hit him, but he would have deserved it. Should have read the mood as soon as they spoke, as soon as they touched him. He could blame Tristan for this one, right?
"Sure, babe. I'm all yours." The words hung heavier in the air than he'd meant them when they left his mouth. Too meaningful, too much, too late to take them back, not that he didn't mean them. He smoothed his hair back, blowing through the awkward pause with the gesture, before glancing back at Tristan. He kinda hated having to miss an opportunity to spend time with him, but he'd pretty much already proven that talking to Tristan turned Axel instantly into a fucking idiot, so like, probably for the best.
"Sorry, Tristan, gotta bounce. Hit me up later, yeah?" Axel didn't raise an eyebrow, or wink, but he might as well have for all the subtlety that sentence entailed. He gave Tristan a brief wave before smoothly linking the fingers of his free hand with Hel's, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as he looked at them. Even distressed, their face was hypnotic.
"Come smoke with me, yeah?"
He tugged their hand, retrieving the cigarette from behind his ear, silently considering the consequences that murdering his best friend's girlfriend would entail.
>> Axel Fontaine continued in give me love like them
>> Helena Fury continued elsewhere...
Axel wasn't sure what he was expecting, exactly, but Hel's phone left behind in his hand, buzzing insistently, wasn't it.
Their words didn't make any goddamn sense either. Secret band thing? He considered it for a second, cause Hel wasn't in the business for lying to him, but even if there was some Secret Band Thing the only people they'd be hiding it from would be Depeche Lite, and also what the fuck would even constitute a secret band thing, why was he even dwelling on this. Axel knew Hel too well to miss the admittedly barely disguised distress in their voice, or the way their hands were trembling. The chances that the phone wasn't the cause, or at least a factor, seemed vanishingly low. Axel glanced at the phone. The last message was innocuous, but the name made his eye twitch. It was always fucking Kara, wasn't it?
Hit me if I'm wrong. They hadn't hit him, but he would have deserved it. Should have read the mood as soon as they spoke, as soon as they touched him. He could blame Tristan for this one, right?
"Sure, babe. I'm all yours." The words hung heavier in the air than he'd meant them when they left his mouth. Too meaningful, too much, too late to take them back, not that he didn't mean them. He smoothed his hair back, blowing through the awkward pause with the gesture, before glancing back at Tristan. He kinda hated having to miss an opportunity to spend time with him, but he'd pretty much already proven that talking to Tristan turned Axel instantly into a fucking idiot, so like, probably for the best.
"Sorry, Tristan, gotta bounce. Hit me up later, yeah?" Axel didn't raise an eyebrow, or wink, but he might as well have for all the subtlety that sentence entailed. He gave Tristan a brief wave before smoothly linking the fingers of his free hand with Hel's, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as he looked at them. Even distressed, their face was hypnotic.
"Come smoke with me, yeah?"
He tugged their hand, retrieving the cigarette from behind his ear, silently considering the consequences that murdering his best friend's girlfriend would entail.
>> Axel Fontaine continued in give me love like them
>> Helena Fury continued elsewhere...
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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jimmydalad
- Posts: 290
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:35 pm
It was almost like Lukas was in another world he sat on the bleachers. It helped that the conversation drifted away from himself so he didn't need to pretend he was paying attention. He vaguely paid attention, nodded his head now and again to give the illusion he was listening. His focus was still on his phone, or more accurately, what was on his phone.
He felt powerful and powerless at the same time. It was a weird dichotomy and the possibilities that it presented were very tempting to pursue. Wyatt and Ivy were menaces in the school and this could be the thing to take them down, at least for a moment. It certainly would feel good to put them in their place, but was it worth sticking out his neck for a mere chance of revenge?
He stewed on this question and eventually came to an answer.
Not really.
The end of the year was soon. Once the year was over and he graduated, he'd never have to worry about high school again. He didn't have to worry about Ivy or Wyatt or any of the other assholes who made his life miserable. With the end of the year coming so close, why did he need to stick his neck out when at most it'd be a few weeks or months.
All he had to do was wait. Weather the storm.
He looked up and noticed that the others were leaving. This seemed like a good a cue as any.
"I'd better head off too. Sorry I didn't talk much. Have stuff going on. Maybe we can chat more later?"
The last bit was more Lukas being polite than actually wanting to chat to Tristan again. Then again, he didn't seem so bad. Maybe he wasn't so terrible.
Gathering his things, he made his way back to the school. He probably should've deleted the photo, but he decided against it. It wasn't like needed to do so or anything.
((Lukas Nielson continued in Hiding in the Smoke))
He felt powerful and powerless at the same time. It was a weird dichotomy and the possibilities that it presented were very tempting to pursue. Wyatt and Ivy were menaces in the school and this could be the thing to take them down, at least for a moment. It certainly would feel good to put them in their place, but was it worth sticking out his neck for a mere chance of revenge?
He stewed on this question and eventually came to an answer.
Not really.
The end of the year was soon. Once the year was over and he graduated, he'd never have to worry about high school again. He didn't have to worry about Ivy or Wyatt or any of the other assholes who made his life miserable. With the end of the year coming so close, why did he need to stick his neck out when at most it'd be a few weeks or months.
All he had to do was wait. Weather the storm.
He looked up and noticed that the others were leaving. This seemed like a good a cue as any.
"I'd better head off too. Sorry I didn't talk much. Have stuff going on. Maybe we can chat more later?"
The last bit was more Lukas being polite than actually wanting to chat to Tristan again. Then again, he didn't seem so bad. Maybe he wasn't so terrible.
Gathering his things, he made his way back to the school. He probably should've deleted the photo, but he decided against it. It wasn't like needed to do so or anything.
((Lukas Nielson continued in Hiding in the Smoke))
There was some underlying tension between Axel and Hel, some unspoken conversation that couldn’t happen in either Tristan or Lukas’ presence. Tristan couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with him - he’d never quite gotten a gauge on how Hel felt about it all. He couldn’t blame them if they were unhappy about the situation, and if he took the moment to sit and talk with them about it, maybe that would put an end to all those late night trysts and maybe then he wouldn’t have to worry about the cocktail of feelings that would stir within him whenever Axel so much as glanced his way.
So when the two took each others hands and took their leave, he almost sighed in relief. As much as the company of Axel and Hel was welcome, and as much as Lukas remained such an unknown entity with all too many variables, it felt good to have that tension (and the knowledge that he could be behind it) lifted from his shoulders. So then it was just he and Lukas left alone on the bleachers, as they’d started. At the very least, they’d found a new avenue of conversation in the brief appearance of Axel and Hel, should the well of possible topics run dry.
Tristan opened his mouth to speak, to add some witty comment or ask how well Lukas knew either of the pair, but before he had the chance Lukas was making his own farewell and gathering up his belongings. Tristan felt a small pang of disappointment at how this chance to make a new friend, to strengthen this connection beyond cursory greetings in the halls, had been dashed. But then Lukas mentioned that maybe they could talk later, and he felt the corners of his lips quirk, just a little. It was probably just a platitude, nothing more, but Tristan knew he’d leap on it in a heartbeat.
“Oh, seeya Lukas. I’ll flick you a message sometime?” He gave the other boy a wave, and resisted the urge to let his eyes flicker down to his backside as he trotted off.
He was alone again, with just the throbbing headache and his sugary and salty snacks with which he’d entered the playing fields as his only company. He couldn’t claim that his venture outside had been wholly unsuccessful - he’d gained a few minutes of interaction with others, and the promise (however slight it may have seemed) to grasp some vague, future interaction with Lukas, but as he glanced around the vacant area, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. There was always a crash that came after the high of socialising, and when he hadn’t been in the strongest of moods initially, the dip in his mood felt altogether heavier than usual.
So with no people to talk to, no immediate distraction, Tristan simply pulled out his phone and earplugs and scrolled to the first playlist he could find. He pressed play.
Tristan closed his eyes, leaned backwards, and let the music take him away.
((Tristan O’Hara continued elsewhere…))
So when the two took each others hands and took their leave, he almost sighed in relief. As much as the company of Axel and Hel was welcome, and as much as Lukas remained such an unknown entity with all too many variables, it felt good to have that tension (and the knowledge that he could be behind it) lifted from his shoulders. So then it was just he and Lukas left alone on the bleachers, as they’d started. At the very least, they’d found a new avenue of conversation in the brief appearance of Axel and Hel, should the well of possible topics run dry.
Tristan opened his mouth to speak, to add some witty comment or ask how well Lukas knew either of the pair, but before he had the chance Lukas was making his own farewell and gathering up his belongings. Tristan felt a small pang of disappointment at how this chance to make a new friend, to strengthen this connection beyond cursory greetings in the halls, had been dashed. But then Lukas mentioned that maybe they could talk later, and he felt the corners of his lips quirk, just a little. It was probably just a platitude, nothing more, but Tristan knew he’d leap on it in a heartbeat.
“Oh, seeya Lukas. I’ll flick you a message sometime?” He gave the other boy a wave, and resisted the urge to let his eyes flicker down to his backside as he trotted off.
He was alone again, with just the throbbing headache and his sugary and salty snacks with which he’d entered the playing fields as his only company. He couldn’t claim that his venture outside had been wholly unsuccessful - he’d gained a few minutes of interaction with others, and the promise (however slight it may have seemed) to grasp some vague, future interaction with Lukas, but as he glanced around the vacant area, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. There was always a crash that came after the high of socialising, and when he hadn’t been in the strongest of moods initially, the dip in his mood felt altogether heavier than usual.
So with no people to talk to, no immediate distraction, Tristan simply pulled out his phone and earplugs and scrolled to the first playlist he could find. He pressed play.
Tristan closed his eyes, leaned backwards, and let the music take him away.
((Tristan O’Hara continued elsewhere…))