The sunrise had been nice. Morgan had appreciated it. He wasn't much for mornings as a general rule, but every time he'd ever been awake to see a sunrise, he'd marvelled at the things that went into it. The refraction of light through the clouds and the sky that lit the horizon up in a glorious orange; the sounds of the wildlife coming to life more than it had before, the sound of the wind through the small, leftover fields of long-abandoned rice plants - all of it made him appreciate the view more than any sunrise he'd ever witnessed before.
After all, seeing the sunrise meant that Morgan Dragosavich had, likely against all odds, survived a full day in the most lethal death game in recent history.
The next one would be even better, he vowed.
From here on out, all of them would be.
((Morgan Dragosavich continued from Break Your Halo))
They hadn't walked for very long, mercifully Axel and Andy hadn't wanted to cause him too much in the way of exertion, and since the sun had been starting to head on its merry way, they'd taken the long way around the rice paddies, ending on the east side of them near a small forest that seemed the best place for shelter. The two boys had stewed a bit, talked amongst themselves, and Morgan hadn't really said much. He had gotten dizzy again, and upon arriving at a place decent enough to keep shelter, they'd opted to try and sleep in shifts. Morgan had ended up with the last one, and had near-immediately passed out, his body exhausted from the beating and the travelling and the mental trauma that he'd endured throughout the day.
The sleep had definitely done him some good. As Axel had woken him up in the middle of the night to take his shift at watch, his head didn't seem to be spinning much anymore, and after he'd popped a painkiller, he didn't feel entirely horrible anymore. He honestly felt like he could upgrade his condition to 'shitty', which hey - that was probably as good as it was going to get for the time being. As he'd sat up, looking around the area, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps or whatever but mostly just staring at the beautiful night sky, he wondered just what the future held for the three of them.
Andy and Axel had done him a real solid, and Morgan wouldn't forget that. They hadn't needed to help him out, they could have just as easily done as Lorenzo suggested - put him out of his misery, put a bullet in his brain, and he never would have known. He would have just ceased to exist, forever remembering the fear that powered him as he crawled away from the sinister boot of Wyatt Carter. He never would have gotten to reconnect with Michael or Henry, find his friends and try and cook up some sort of hare-brained scheme to escape that would almost undoubtedly get them all killed. But they'd try, for fuck sakes. He'd never be able to find Lizzie, to try and make her feel the safety that he couldn't possibly feel, because that was what boyfriends were supposed to do, right? That was what his job was, to make her feel safe in a time where he'd already been beaten up and had all his shit stolen.
In a time where he'd already pissed his own pants in fear.
Brushing away the shame, he considered that none of that was off the table, not yet anyway, thanks to the unlikeliest of saviors. Speaking of the two guys, Morgan wasn't sure how much sleep either of them had really gotten. Axel had been tossing and turning on the ground for hours, and he was pretty sure that Andy had barely slept, judging by the frustrated sighs and grunts that came from where he'd perched up. Morgan couldn't really blame them. Had he not sustained a really painful kick to the face, he probably would have been too wound up to sleep, too.
Fuck Wyatt Carter, and fuck Bret Carter. Wyatt was such an asshole, basically a blight on the positivity that most of them felt going to school. He stirred shit up wherever he went, and it didn't shock him that he'd pick on someone he deemed weaker. His brother was more polished, but just as bad. He'd always hated those guys. Morgan had laughed hysterically when someone had photoshopped ridiculous and offensive photos of Wyatt during the Lucas Brady Facebook debacle. Grimacing as he gently touched his nose, he felt the swelling around his face. Back then, he'd just hoped after school that he never saw either of them again.
Now, Morgan hoped they fucking died after what they'd done to him.
"Fucking Wyatt," he muttered.
Not likely.
He sighed. Not likely, indeed. The sun continued to rise in their hellish tropical paradise, and Morgan watched it come.
The Unavoidable Sun
early morning of day 2; pm for entry
((Lucas Brady continued from The Whine of the Vagrant Character))
Lucas Brady hadn’t wanted to sleep. He’d wanted to stay up and angst and cry and bemoan all the terrible things about his fate. Admittedly being fated to die in a pointless mass murder was a reasonable thing to complain about, but there was little else Lucas wanted to do than reiterate those feelings.
But like any person thrown into hell, exhaustion had caught up with him when the coast was clear and the sun was down. So it was he’d woken up with a cheek covered in drool and the unmistakable imprint of tree-bark on his face. His clothes stank as they would when you wore them overnight out in the wilderness after a day of hiking, and his hair was an unkempt mess.
These things meant absolutely nothing because, as usual, there was so much to bemoan.
He’d wandered his way to the rice paddies, because where else was he supposed to go? He’d gotten bored of the same scenery he’d stared at all of yesterday afternoon, so he might as well go look for new people to tell him to fuck off.
And just his luck, he saw such a crowd in the not-too-distance. Faced with the choice of turning around, grabbing his stupid sword from his bag and charging into his pointless death, or just standing there like an idiot, he opted to raise a hand.
“Hey.”
Just hey?
Yup, just hey.
Lucas Brady hadn’t wanted to sleep. He’d wanted to stay up and angst and cry and bemoan all the terrible things about his fate. Admittedly being fated to die in a pointless mass murder was a reasonable thing to complain about, but there was little else Lucas wanted to do than reiterate those feelings.
But like any person thrown into hell, exhaustion had caught up with him when the coast was clear and the sun was down. So it was he’d woken up with a cheek covered in drool and the unmistakable imprint of tree-bark on his face. His clothes stank as they would when you wore them overnight out in the wilderness after a day of hiking, and his hair was an unkempt mess.
These things meant absolutely nothing because, as usual, there was so much to bemoan.
He’d wandered his way to the rice paddies, because where else was he supposed to go? He’d gotten bored of the same scenery he’d stared at all of yesterday afternoon, so he might as well go look for new people to tell him to fuck off.
And just his luck, he saw such a crowd in the not-too-distance. Faced with the choice of turning around, grabbing his stupid sword from his bag and charging into his pointless death, or just standing there like an idiot, he opted to raise a hand.
“Hey.”
Just hey?
Yup, just hey.
Kind of a shitty night.
Could be a lot worse, except thinking about all the ways it could be worse, kinda paradoxically, made his night increasingly shittier. Which meant it kinda couldn't be worse? In a way?
Maybe trying to untangle that web of fucking nothing could distract him for another hour.
>> Axel Fontaine continued from Break Your Halo
They hadn't walked far. Axel was in pretty decent shape but he wasn't the sorta dude who did a ton of walking and he was already worn out from making it to the aviary, so he was pretty okay with that, even though, let's be real, it was mostly for Morgan's benefit. Dude somehow made it probably half a mile, a mile, the map didn't have distance marked so who the fuck knew but some distance on his own power and that was pretty impressive with how hard his shit had been rocked. Could probably still have a concussion but Axel had no clue how you checked for that and he hadn't passed out which was good enough for him. He'd passed the time with Andy talking about absolutely fucking nothing because if they talked about anything relevant he might get all sad again and that sucked the first time and then Morgan was like "hey we can stay here" and it was starting to get kinda dark so whatever.
Morgan did kinda pass out pretty quick after that but hey, he wasn't dead. Axel may have checked just to make sure because accidentally making camp with a corpse would have been a huge fucking bummer. They'd already figured out logistics, keeping watch, all that shit that seemed like it was probably important even though it was yet more shit Axel didn't want to think about, and Andy had first watch, so Axel slept. "Slept". He tossed and turned and stared into the metaphorical void and thought about pro League team comps like he was trying not to blow his load because it was a stupid pointless thing to think about and those were better.
The night was way too fucking long, except suddenly Andy was tapping his shoulder and he was pretty sure no time had passed at all. He spent an arbitrary amount of time tying pieces of grass together. "Keeping watch" his ass. Flashlight would have drawn too much attention so he just sat in the dark jumping every time he heard so much as a branch move. Which he heard a lot of, because one time he dared to flip the flashlight on to look and he got it right in the eyes of a very irritable-looking monkey who thankfully didn't take the opportunity to rip his face off. He kept the light off after that.
He had no idea how long it was before he decided it had been long enough and went to bother Morgan and went right back to failing to sleep.
And then it was dawn.
And then he heard a voice.
It was weird how shallow and empty everything sounded when there wasn't anything to fill in the spaces. No conversation or plans or a Reddit feed to flip through. Some stuff happening in staccato beats with a bunch of thoughts in between so worthless he forgot them almost as quickly as they passed through his head.
Axel pushed himself up on his hands, bleary-eyed, spotting both an awake and alert Morgan and a vague silhouette that was probably a person seeing as it was person-shaped and also said a word. Hard to tell who it was with the sunrise at his back, and he was pretty sure it was a him from the voice. Not a voice he recognized, but considering the person was saying stuff and not shooting them he probably didn't want them dead. Or he just didn't have a gun. That was encouraging, kinda.
"Yo?"
His voice was creaky. Water was the order of the day once he was a hundred percent sure he wasn't about to be dead.
Could be a lot worse, except thinking about all the ways it could be worse, kinda paradoxically, made his night increasingly shittier. Which meant it kinda couldn't be worse? In a way?
Maybe trying to untangle that web of fucking nothing could distract him for another hour.
>> Axel Fontaine continued from Break Your Halo
They hadn't walked far. Axel was in pretty decent shape but he wasn't the sorta dude who did a ton of walking and he was already worn out from making it to the aviary, so he was pretty okay with that, even though, let's be real, it was mostly for Morgan's benefit. Dude somehow made it probably half a mile, a mile, the map didn't have distance marked so who the fuck knew but some distance on his own power and that was pretty impressive with how hard his shit had been rocked. Could probably still have a concussion but Axel had no clue how you checked for that and he hadn't passed out which was good enough for him. He'd passed the time with Andy talking about absolutely fucking nothing because if they talked about anything relevant he might get all sad again and that sucked the first time and then Morgan was like "hey we can stay here" and it was starting to get kinda dark so whatever.
Morgan did kinda pass out pretty quick after that but hey, he wasn't dead. Axel may have checked just to make sure because accidentally making camp with a corpse would have been a huge fucking bummer. They'd already figured out logistics, keeping watch, all that shit that seemed like it was probably important even though it was yet more shit Axel didn't want to think about, and Andy had first watch, so Axel slept. "Slept". He tossed and turned and stared into the metaphorical void and thought about pro League team comps like he was trying not to blow his load because it was a stupid pointless thing to think about and those were better.
The night was way too fucking long, except suddenly Andy was tapping his shoulder and he was pretty sure no time had passed at all. He spent an arbitrary amount of time tying pieces of grass together. "Keeping watch" his ass. Flashlight would have drawn too much attention so he just sat in the dark jumping every time he heard so much as a branch move. Which he heard a lot of, because one time he dared to flip the flashlight on to look and he got it right in the eyes of a very irritable-looking monkey who thankfully didn't take the opportunity to rip his face off. He kept the light off after that.
He had no idea how long it was before he decided it had been long enough and went to bother Morgan and went right back to failing to sleep.
And then it was dawn.
And then he heard a voice.
It was weird how shallow and empty everything sounded when there wasn't anything to fill in the spaces. No conversation or plans or a Reddit feed to flip through. Some stuff happening in staccato beats with a bunch of thoughts in between so worthless he forgot them almost as quickly as they passed through his head.
Axel pushed himself up on his hands, bleary-eyed, spotting both an awake and alert Morgan and a vague silhouette that was probably a person seeing as it was person-shaped and also said a word. Hard to tell who it was with the sunrise at his back, and he was pretty sure it was a him from the voice. Not a voice he recognized, but considering the person was saying stuff and not shooting them he probably didn't want them dead. Or he just didn't have a gun. That was encouraging, kinda.
"Yo?"
His voice was creaky. Water was the order of the day once he was a hundred percent sure he wasn't about to be dead.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
((Andy Silverman continued from Break Your Halo))
Being completely truthful, Andy kind of wanted a hug, but it'd be weird to ask Axel or Morgan for that, so he didn't say anything about it.
He'd stayed up all night before, but that was usually time spent doing fun stuff or last-minute homework, not sitting around in the dark with wildlife calling out around him because if he fell asleep someone playing Jason Voorhees might come out of the night and try to chop the three of them up into little-bitty pieces. He never really decided if he'd rather have that happen just so he'd have some shit to do.
Dawn found Andy sitting hunched over, Minithulhu cradled in his lap. Apparently it had only taken him a day to start playing favorites with his kids, but it was kind of hard not to when the choice was between companion cube or fire ants. Sorry kids, sometimes you're just born shitty. He absently tapped his fingers against the side of the box, index-middle-ring-pinkie and back, one hand on each side. Sometimes he started to pick up a beat, but it kept escaping him.
It was maybe a good thing he was so exhausted, because otherwise being up this early with nothing to do and Axel and Morgan still sitting-slash-laying around would have driven him kind of stir-crazy. He still felt twitchy; not as stretched-rubber-band tense as he had yesterday, more tiredly irritable, like he felt when he was a little hungover or just coming off a bad day. It was hard not to be pessimistic as hell and think that it was probably going to just be along string of bad fucking days from here on out.
Fortunately...? Fortunately, maybe, someone eventually wandered along to break up the monotony, judging by the voice that floated up to Andy in one of the 30-second dozes he'd been slipping in and out of. Wasn't Hel's voice, or Forrest's or Mikki's, so that sucked, but it also wasn't Lorenzo or Emmett or another fucking bird out for his blood, so... neutral? Neutral. Fifty-fifty, or more accurately, zero-zero. At least it was even.
"If you're not selling Girl Scout cookies, go th' fuck away," Andy muttered, probably too low for anyone but Axel to hear. Too fucking tired right now to not be a shitlord.
Being completely truthful, Andy kind of wanted a hug, but it'd be weird to ask Axel or Morgan for that, so he didn't say anything about it.
He'd stayed up all night before, but that was usually time spent doing fun stuff or last-minute homework, not sitting around in the dark with wildlife calling out around him because if he fell asleep someone playing Jason Voorhees might come out of the night and try to chop the three of them up into little-bitty pieces. He never really decided if he'd rather have that happen just so he'd have some shit to do.
Dawn found Andy sitting hunched over, Minithulhu cradled in his lap. Apparently it had only taken him a day to start playing favorites with his kids, but it was kind of hard not to when the choice was between companion cube or fire ants. Sorry kids, sometimes you're just born shitty. He absently tapped his fingers against the side of the box, index-middle-ring-pinkie and back, one hand on each side. Sometimes he started to pick up a beat, but it kept escaping him.
It was maybe a good thing he was so exhausted, because otherwise being up this early with nothing to do and Axel and Morgan still sitting-slash-laying around would have driven him kind of stir-crazy. He still felt twitchy; not as stretched-rubber-band tense as he had yesterday, more tiredly irritable, like he felt when he was a little hungover or just coming off a bad day. It was hard not to be pessimistic as hell and think that it was probably going to just be along string of bad fucking days from here on out.
Fortunately...? Fortunately, maybe, someone eventually wandered along to break up the monotony, judging by the voice that floated up to Andy in one of the 30-second dozes he'd been slipping in and out of. Wasn't Hel's voice, or Forrest's or Mikki's, so that sucked, but it also wasn't Lorenzo or Emmett or another fucking bird out for his blood, so... neutral? Neutral. Fifty-fifty, or more accurately, zero-zero. At least it was even.
"If you're not selling Girl Scout cookies, go th' fuck away," Andy muttered, probably too low for anyone but Axel to hear. Too fucking tired right now to not be a shitlord.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
((Well, that fuckin' sucked.))
Those few hours of sleep hadn't been enough. Like, better than nothing, but usually when Abe pulled an all-nighter it was 'cause he was just, fist-clench, gaming so hard. And usually he had nothing to do the next day except pass out, instead of, y'know, hiking through an entire forest in the dead of night with nothing but a flashlight he'd tried his best to not use.
He had a couple scrapes on his arm from when he'd tripped and collided with a tree, because it'd really only been a matter of time until he ate shit in the dark somehow. Thankfully he'd disinfected and bandaged 'em up all nicely, so he probably wasn't gonna die from a splinter in a week.
He knew he was gonna feel real fuckin' dumb when it turned out the next Danger Zone was like the lake or some shit, but at least he'd be a dumbass that still had a neck, and a head to appreciate the fact that he still had a neck.
Once he'd finally reached the edge of the trees, he'd just kept walking. The smart thing woulda been to duck back into the woods a ways to try and sneak another nap in, but even that would've felt so exposed compared to his desolate coastal cliff paradise. He was still wired as hell after startling at every shadow or rustling shrub like No-one Krueger herself was gonna jump out and yoink his life away from him, so he doubted he would've been able to do anything except stare blankly at the backs of his eyelids, anyway.
He avoided all the buildings he saw, since anyone who'd lived through the night was probably set up all nicely in 'em, sleepin' in shifts, cradling a 12-gauge and just itchin' to blammo the first person who knocked on their door; like intelligent people who also had friends.
So, he just walked and walked until he finally stumbled on a group of people - dudes he knew, for better or worse. Well, mostly knew - Morgan was a stranger whose name Abe had only committed to memory because he was strikingly handsome, and the only meaningful interaction he'd had with Lucas was laughing his ass off at the dipshit's Facebook meltdown, along with everyone else on the fucking planet.
Axel and Andy, though? Hoooooooooooo man those boys summoned awkward feelings out the wazoo, for two very different reasons.
Axel'd been his chill party bro, and then they fucked, like you did with your chill party bros, and then things just hadn't been the same since. Strained hellos, deliberately avoided eye contact. Abe had a vaguely guilty feeling that he'd messed up, somehow, but he'd gotten together with Forrest pretty shortly after that whole deal, so he'd never bothered to try and set things straight.
Speaking of Forrest - Abe thought about the fun little heart-to-heart he'd had with her in the hotel room, just a few days ago, and realized he probably knew more than Andy did about why Forrest dumped him, which was weird. Probably explained why the prick had such a chip on his shoulder, didn't mean Abe liked him any more.
Whatever - their relationships were messy, not fuckin' blood feuds. He trusted Axel a bit more than the Island Rando Baseline, and Andy a bit less, so they cancelled each other out. Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet, preferably in something that wasn't breathing. If he was gonna give the whole hamburglar shtick a rest, he could use some guys to watch his back.
Time to win hearts and minds. "What is up, my miserable bastards?" He said, strolling closer and lazily waving a hand. This was Abe's version of a genial greeting, which was unfortunate for everyone who knew him.
He very deliberately held his P90 in one hand, pointed straight at the ground. He wasn't even sure if it still had ammo in it - he'd never bothered to try and figure out how to reload it after the target practice that seemed so long ago - but he sure as hell wasn't gonna play the bush mouse roulette again.
Those few hours of sleep hadn't been enough. Like, better than nothing, but usually when Abe pulled an all-nighter it was 'cause he was just, fist-clench, gaming so hard. And usually he had nothing to do the next day except pass out, instead of, y'know, hiking through an entire forest in the dead of night with nothing but a flashlight he'd tried his best to not use.
He had a couple scrapes on his arm from when he'd tripped and collided with a tree, because it'd really only been a matter of time until he ate shit in the dark somehow. Thankfully he'd disinfected and bandaged 'em up all nicely, so he probably wasn't gonna die from a splinter in a week.
He knew he was gonna feel real fuckin' dumb when it turned out the next Danger Zone was like the lake or some shit, but at least he'd be a dumbass that still had a neck, and a head to appreciate the fact that he still had a neck.
Once he'd finally reached the edge of the trees, he'd just kept walking. The smart thing woulda been to duck back into the woods a ways to try and sneak another nap in, but even that would've felt so exposed compared to his desolate coastal cliff paradise. He was still wired as hell after startling at every shadow or rustling shrub like No-one Krueger herself was gonna jump out and yoink his life away from him, so he doubted he would've been able to do anything except stare blankly at the backs of his eyelids, anyway.
He avoided all the buildings he saw, since anyone who'd lived through the night was probably set up all nicely in 'em, sleepin' in shifts, cradling a 12-gauge and just itchin' to blammo the first person who knocked on their door; like intelligent people who also had friends.
So, he just walked and walked until he finally stumbled on a group of people - dudes he knew, for better or worse. Well, mostly knew - Morgan was a stranger whose name Abe had only committed to memory because he was strikingly handsome, and the only meaningful interaction he'd had with Lucas was laughing his ass off at the dipshit's Facebook meltdown, along with everyone else on the fucking planet.
Axel and Andy, though? Hoooooooooooo man those boys summoned awkward feelings out the wazoo, for two very different reasons.
Axel'd been his chill party bro, and then they fucked, like you did with your chill party bros, and then things just hadn't been the same since. Strained hellos, deliberately avoided eye contact. Abe had a vaguely guilty feeling that he'd messed up, somehow, but he'd gotten together with Forrest pretty shortly after that whole deal, so he'd never bothered to try and set things straight.
Speaking of Forrest - Abe thought about the fun little heart-to-heart he'd had with her in the hotel room, just a few days ago, and realized he probably knew more than Andy did about why Forrest dumped him, which was weird. Probably explained why the prick had such a chip on his shoulder, didn't mean Abe liked him any more.
Whatever - their relationships were messy, not fuckin' blood feuds. He trusted Axel a bit more than the Island Rando Baseline, and Andy a bit less, so they cancelled each other out. Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet, preferably in something that wasn't breathing. If he was gonna give the whole hamburglar shtick a rest, he could use some guys to watch his back.
Time to win hearts and minds. "What is up, my miserable bastards?" He said, strolling closer and lazily waving a hand. This was Abe's version of a genial greeting, which was unfortunate for everyone who knew him.
He very deliberately held his P90 in one hand, pointed straight at the ground. He wasn't even sure if it still had ammo in it - he'd never bothered to try and figure out how to reload it after the target practice that seemed so long ago - but he sure as hell wasn't gonna play the bush mouse roulette again.
As Morgan looked at the sunrise, it was mostly silent until it wasn't. He wasn't terribly shocked that his companions hadn't slept much. He'd done so out of physical need to heal his wounds, but the second his mind had snapped back to consciousness, it was as if he'd never been asleep. So when Facebook Lucas himself, of all people, had sauntered in, Morgan almost laughed out loud. It was as though he'd conjured him out of thin air. In a tense situation, people gravitated towards a crowd, no matter who was involved. People wanted to feel safe, feel secure.
Shame, that.
Lucas didn't say much as he approached, keeping it short and sweet. He looked tired, fed up, exhausted and traumatized all at once. Morgan suspected that was probably how they all looked. Considering how sore his face was, he bet he was probably resembling a raccoon more than a person right about now. As he opened his mouth to say something in return, Abe Watanabe appeared as well and he had a gun that while pointed at the ground, was still a fucking gun.
Abe had that haunted look, too.
Morgan knew both of these boys, and both of them were people he'd generously describe as dicks. But while Lucas tended to be more of the self-righteous, 'doesn't know when to shut his mouth so he commits social suicide on social media' kind of dick, Abe was a bit more of the scuzzy, 'you probably shouldn't trust this guy with your homework or in a group project' kind of dick.
One was far more preferable than the other, but at this point, anyone who wasn't actively trying to kick his face in was okay by him. The guys were stirring behind him, so Morgan; being the lookout, decided he'd at least attempt to put on a friendly face and welcome them.
Welcome them to hell, apparently, but a welcome nonetheless.
"Lucas, hey." He looked at Abe, trying very hard not to look at the gun in his hand. He only half succeeded. "Sup, Abe. Just, y'know. Staying alive. Kinda like the song, except," Morgan trailed off.
Less John Travolta and more bloody murder, he wanted to joke, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to say it. His stomach rumbled and his ribs ached, together it was a combination that he'd really rather not feel anymore.
His voice fell, his energetic tone replaced by a more serious and less enthusiastic one than his normal speaking voice.
"How are you guys holding up? You," he paused as he looked between both of them, knowing full well that not all wounds were visible like his, "doing okay?"
Morgan thought they were all pretty fucking far from okay, but they'd catch his drift.
This was their lives, now.
Shame, that.
Lucas didn't say much as he approached, keeping it short and sweet. He looked tired, fed up, exhausted and traumatized all at once. Morgan suspected that was probably how they all looked. Considering how sore his face was, he bet he was probably resembling a raccoon more than a person right about now. As he opened his mouth to say something in return, Abe Watanabe appeared as well and he had a gun that while pointed at the ground, was still a fucking gun.
Abe had that haunted look, too.
Morgan knew both of these boys, and both of them were people he'd generously describe as dicks. But while Lucas tended to be more of the self-righteous, 'doesn't know when to shut his mouth so he commits social suicide on social media' kind of dick, Abe was a bit more of the scuzzy, 'you probably shouldn't trust this guy with your homework or in a group project' kind of dick.
One was far more preferable than the other, but at this point, anyone who wasn't actively trying to kick his face in was okay by him. The guys were stirring behind him, so Morgan; being the lookout, decided he'd at least attempt to put on a friendly face and welcome them.
Welcome them to hell, apparently, but a welcome nonetheless.
"Lucas, hey." He looked at Abe, trying very hard not to look at the gun in his hand. He only half succeeded. "Sup, Abe. Just, y'know. Staying alive. Kinda like the song, except," Morgan trailed off.
Less John Travolta and more bloody murder, he wanted to joke, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to say it. His stomach rumbled and his ribs ached, together it was a combination that he'd really rather not feel anymore.
His voice fell, his energetic tone replaced by a more serious and less enthusiastic one than his normal speaking voice.
"How are you guys holding up? You," he paused as he looked between both of them, knowing full well that not all wounds were visible like his, "doing okay?"
Morgan thought they were all pretty fucking far from okay, but they'd catch his drift.
This was their lives, now.
Lucas felt his face souring, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Well, that wasn't accurate. If he thought about it, gave it some time and mulled it over, he would be able to figure out that it was because Morgan’s question was fucking inane. Who would say ‘Yeah, you know, doing just fine.’ when they were a day into Survival of the Fittest. History dictated that a good few people were already dead, and Morgan was inviting him to make smalltalk like they were bumping into each other in class.
But as Lucas reputation suggested, he was too busy having a knee jerk response to consider the emotions behind it. He was in fact, so busy, he barely acknowledged Abe, certainly not enough to realise he had a gun that could kill him if he said the wrong thing. And as his social suicide had already demonstrated, threats to himself or his wellbeing did little to stem Lucas’ mouth.
“Fuck off.” He replied. It made absolutely no sense, given that he had approached the group. It was in fact, so ridiculous, that even Facebook Lucas couldn’t ignore what a stupid reply it was. His teeth clenched around his tongue, but far too late to stop the vitriol.
He apologised, “Sorry.” but could only hang his head and shuffle his feet in a childish shame.
It was only a day in, and he was already so exhausted.
Well, that wasn't accurate. If he thought about it, gave it some time and mulled it over, he would be able to figure out that it was because Morgan’s question was fucking inane. Who would say ‘Yeah, you know, doing just fine.’ when they were a day into Survival of the Fittest. History dictated that a good few people were already dead, and Morgan was inviting him to make smalltalk like they were bumping into each other in class.
But as Lucas reputation suggested, he was too busy having a knee jerk response to consider the emotions behind it. He was in fact, so busy, he barely acknowledged Abe, certainly not enough to realise he had a gun that could kill him if he said the wrong thing. And as his social suicide had already demonstrated, threats to himself or his wellbeing did little to stem Lucas’ mouth.
“Fuck off.” He replied. It made absolutely no sense, given that he had approached the group. It was in fact, so ridiculous, that even Facebook Lucas couldn’t ignore what a stupid reply it was. His teeth clenched around his tongue, but far too late to stop the vitriol.
He apologised, “Sorry.” but could only hang his head and shuffle his feet in a childish shame.
It was only a day in, and he was already so exhausted.
Andy out here being a dick so Axel didn't have to. He was cool with that. Pretty sure Andy'd slept even less than he had, considering he'd woke Axel to keep watch and proceeded to stare into the void for basically forever. Could have killed some time talking, now that he was thinking about it, but the energy was wrong. Looked like Morgan was gonna take over social interaction duty for both of them. Probably for the best.
Axel didn't actually know the guy who'd approached except by reputation, and he doubted he would have put the pieces together himself if Morgan hadn't said his name first. Being named Lucas narrowed it down to like a third of their class, but he was pretty sure he recognized him now as the one who ran for student president. He cemented that impression himself when he spoke again and metaphorical confetti rained from the heavens to congratulate him on his one-millionth act of social suicide. So: not really in the top ten people he'd wanna run into right now. Not in the top fifty, either.
Someone else was there, too, but he had no goddamn clue where he'd fit Abe into that list.
Abe was one of those problems Axel figured would fix itself eventually. Like they'd been bros for ages, and then they fucked that one time and that was, like, he didn't really wanna say he regretted it or anything because he wasn't sure if he did and also he'd feel like a dick if he said so but it was weird for reasons he didn't super want to recount so he figured he'd keep his distance for a little while. Except then he was dating Forrest and Andy turned up the salt levels and then talking to Abe felt like he was crossing into enemy territory when his best bro already felt like shit.
So he kept his distance. And he kept keeping his distance. And he figured they'd break up eventually, or Andy would get over her eventually, or eventually something would change and he could just fucking apologize for having left him on read for half a year because Abe was an asshole and an idiot and he'd been one of his favorite people for a long-ass time and soon they'd be graduating and none of this high school shit would matter anymore anyway?
But here Abe was sounding exactly like always despite the gun dangling from his hand.
Axel was glad he'd slept with his bag as a pillow, since it meant he didn't have to move to open it and grab a bottle of water, which gave him a precious several seconds to think of something clever to say. Then he didn't do that and stared blankly at Abe for a little longer instead before he managed to make some words come out of his stupid mouth.
"Yeah, uh. Hey." He shrugged. "Welcome to hell, I guess."
Axel didn't actually know the guy who'd approached except by reputation, and he doubted he would have put the pieces together himself if Morgan hadn't said his name first. Being named Lucas narrowed it down to like a third of their class, but he was pretty sure he recognized him now as the one who ran for student president. He cemented that impression himself when he spoke again and metaphorical confetti rained from the heavens to congratulate him on his one-millionth act of social suicide. So: not really in the top ten people he'd wanna run into right now. Not in the top fifty, either.
Someone else was there, too, but he had no goddamn clue where he'd fit Abe into that list.
Abe was one of those problems Axel figured would fix itself eventually. Like they'd been bros for ages, and then they fucked that one time and that was, like, he didn't really wanna say he regretted it or anything because he wasn't sure if he did and also he'd feel like a dick if he said so but it was weird for reasons he didn't super want to recount so he figured he'd keep his distance for a little while. Except then he was dating Forrest and Andy turned up the salt levels and then talking to Abe felt like he was crossing into enemy territory when his best bro already felt like shit.
So he kept his distance. And he kept keeping his distance. And he figured they'd break up eventually, or Andy would get over her eventually, or eventually something would change and he could just fucking apologize for having left him on read for half a year because Abe was an asshole and an idiot and he'd been one of his favorite people for a long-ass time and soon they'd be graduating and none of this high school shit would matter anymore anyway?
But here Abe was sounding exactly like always despite the gun dangling from his hand.
Axel was glad he'd slept with his bag as a pillow, since it meant he didn't have to move to open it and grab a bottle of water, which gave him a precious several seconds to think of something clever to say. Then he didn't do that and stared blankly at Abe for a little longer instead before he managed to make some words come out of his stupid mouth.
"Yeah, uh. Hey." He shrugged. "Welcome to hell, I guess."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
They were all sitting out in the open, pretty much totally exposed, but Andy was still starting to feel crowded. Probably because the new arrivals weren't people he particularly wanted to see on a good day, never mind now. A spike of heightened irritability shot through him, and he had just about decided to give it a voice when the crackle of a speaker nearby cut him off.
Andy snapped his mouth shut and hunched further over the box in his lap, growing still and tense. Heart was in his throat already as Danya started to speak, and about the stupidest urge Andy'd had all morning was wanting to snap out loud that everything needed to slow down so he could psych himself up to hear whatever was about to be said. He couldn't-
He couldn't.
Abel?
"What," Andy said out loud, voice sticking in his throat and coming out all wrong.
He didn't hear anything else after that - well okay, he did, and he'd probably remember it later when his stupid fuck of a brain decided it was time to freak out some more, but right now it all went in one ear and out the other. Abel? How? That wasn't right, that didn't make sense-
No Lorenzo or Emmett or Sapphire, but Abel?
And Tyrell, Ty, you stupid fuck-
"What the fuck?" Andy said again, and it came out kind of like he was laughing. He gripped the sides of the box until the edges dug painfully into his palms, and he kept pressing.
Andy snapped his mouth shut and hunched further over the box in his lap, growing still and tense. Heart was in his throat already as Danya started to speak, and about the stupidest urge Andy'd had all morning was wanting to snap out loud that everything needed to slow down so he could psych himself up to hear whatever was about to be said. He couldn't-
He couldn't.
Abel?
"What," Andy said out loud, voice sticking in his throat and coming out all wrong.
He didn't hear anything else after that - well okay, he did, and he'd probably remember it later when his stupid fuck of a brain decided it was time to freak out some more, but right now it all went in one ear and out the other. Abel? How? That wasn't right, that didn't make sense-
No Lorenzo or Emmett or Sapphire, but Abel?
And Tyrell, Ty, you stupid fuck-
"What the fuck?" Andy said again, and it came out kind of like he was laughing. He gripped the sides of the box until the edges dug painfully into his palms, and he kept pressing.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Ah hell, now that he'd gotten closer to Morgan, Abe could see that some asshole had beaten him the fuck up, or maybe he'd been the asshole and gotten beaten up for it, but since he was hanging out with Axel he was probably actually alright - okay, no, Axel was bros with Abe and Andy so clearly he was a garbage judge of trashmen's characters.
Whatever, who gave a shit, where the hell did Abe get off mistrusting people, Morgan seemed friendly enough. Still, he was asking some questions Abe really didn't feel like lying about at the moment, so it was convenient that Facebook Lucas stayed true to his assumed character and had a quick lil' temper tantrum. At least he had the self-awareness to immediately feel ashamed about it, 'cause seriously, what the hell dude.
Abe decided that was Morgan's problem, gave the guy a vague shrug instead of a vague answer, then walked closer to the Personal Baggage Dude he actually liked. Despite... everything, it was still nice to see Axel. When was the last time they'd had a whole-ass conversation? Hell, when was the last time they'd even played some shitty fuckin' MOBA (more like, any MOBA. more like, MOBA deez nuts) together? Would he have ever even bothered to try and clear the weird-ass air between them before they graduated?
"Well, damn, guess we're damned," Abe said with a straight-faced shrug, settling down cross-legged in front of Axel. Maybe it woulda been a good idea to make sure Andy wasn't gonna try and chase him outta town before he got all cozy, but fuck it, his feet were really sore.
"Tee-bee-aitch, y'all ain't exactly the hellacious welcoming committee I was hoping for, but one outta four ain't bad. The rest of you need to, like, invest in pitchforks-" it was a fun statement, 'cause it let him vaguely imply that he was glad to find Axel without outright having to say it, and it let him be vaguely dickish to the people who deserved it, but
Then the announcement came on, and Abe kept his goddamn mouth shut.
Forrest's name hadn't crossed Mr. Terrorist Bastard's lips, in either direction. That was pretty neato.
Andy was kinda freaking out, and that was an appropriate reaction, so Abe was gonna be a decent human being and just let everyone have a chance to go 'fucking shit man' but there was a little morsel of truth just itching in his brain.
Nick wasn't really his friend or anything but Abe felt that once you'd had a good party time with someone you had like, a vague moral obligation to have their back; at least when it didn't cost you anything, and he was one of like, six people on the island who really knew how that bullshit went down. Six witnesses versus everyone else with a pair of working ears who'd neatly filed the poor bastard's name under 'murderer' in their heads, which could have some real fuckin' bad consequences?
Even more of a reason to set the record straight was that Axel and Nick had been banging at one point, 'cause like, how the hell would Abe have felt if he heard Myles or whoever the fuck had gotten all murder-boner-y? Pretty weird and bad, that's how.
"Nick, uh - he didn't kill Beryl. I mean, he did, but like, she was already dead, kinda? Some fucking little bush mouse - uh, I mean, Darlene, some fuckin' nobody called Darlene shot her in a real bad place - not that there's, like, a good place to get shot, haha. I think it was an accident? But, like, that's for the courts to figure out, haha," he said, makin' weird little mouth sounds that couldn't even be charitably called nervous laughter, haha, 'cause like, when you zoomed out there was only one judgement on the island, and it was gonna come for everyone, sooner or later, and a guilty verdict just meant you could feel better about it, and the fact that he was thinking thoughts like that was pretty fucked, haha?
Whatever, who gave a shit, where the hell did Abe get off mistrusting people, Morgan seemed friendly enough. Still, he was asking some questions Abe really didn't feel like lying about at the moment, so it was convenient that Facebook Lucas stayed true to his assumed character and had a quick lil' temper tantrum. At least he had the self-awareness to immediately feel ashamed about it, 'cause seriously, what the hell dude.
Abe decided that was Morgan's problem, gave the guy a vague shrug instead of a vague answer, then walked closer to the Personal Baggage Dude he actually liked. Despite... everything, it was still nice to see Axel. When was the last time they'd had a whole-ass conversation? Hell, when was the last time they'd even played some shitty fuckin' MOBA (more like, any MOBA. more like, MOBA deez nuts) together? Would he have ever even bothered to try and clear the weird-ass air between them before they graduated?
"Well, damn, guess we're damned," Abe said with a straight-faced shrug, settling down cross-legged in front of Axel. Maybe it woulda been a good idea to make sure Andy wasn't gonna try and chase him outta town before he got all cozy, but fuck it, his feet were really sore.
"Tee-bee-aitch, y'all ain't exactly the hellacious welcoming committee I was hoping for, but one outta four ain't bad. The rest of you need to, like, invest in pitchforks-" it was a fun statement, 'cause it let him vaguely imply that he was glad to find Axel without outright having to say it, and it let him be vaguely dickish to the people who deserved it, but
Then the announcement came on, and Abe kept his goddamn mouth shut.
Forrest's name hadn't crossed Mr. Terrorist Bastard's lips, in either direction. That was pretty neato.
Andy was kinda freaking out, and that was an appropriate reaction, so Abe was gonna be a decent human being and just let everyone have a chance to go 'fucking shit man' but there was a little morsel of truth just itching in his brain.
Nick wasn't really his friend or anything but Abe felt that once you'd had a good party time with someone you had like, a vague moral obligation to have their back; at least when it didn't cost you anything, and he was one of like, six people on the island who really knew how that bullshit went down. Six witnesses versus everyone else with a pair of working ears who'd neatly filed the poor bastard's name under 'murderer' in their heads, which could have some real fuckin' bad consequences?
Even more of a reason to set the record straight was that Axel and Nick had been banging at one point, 'cause like, how the hell would Abe have felt if he heard Myles or whoever the fuck had gotten all murder-boner-y? Pretty weird and bad, that's how.
"Nick, uh - he didn't kill Beryl. I mean, he did, but like, she was already dead, kinda? Some fucking little bush mouse - uh, I mean, Darlene, some fuckin' nobody called Darlene shot her in a real bad place - not that there's, like, a good place to get shot, haha. I think it was an accident? But, like, that's for the courts to figure out, haha," he said, makin' weird little mouth sounds that couldn't even be charitably called nervous laughter, haha, 'cause like, when you zoomed out there was only one judgement on the island, and it was gonna come for everyone, sooner or later, and a guilty verdict just meant you could feel better about it, and the fact that he was thinking thoughts like that was pretty fucked, haha?
Morgan laughed.
What else was there to do? Lucas Brady told him to fuck off, almost out of reflex, and then realized how stupid he was being. Then the announcement had come on and told them all how fucked they truly were, and the air just seemed to flood away from them all. The uneasy peace vanished and all that they were left with was the terrible fact that people were killing one another.
For Morgan, who'd had his face bashed in, his ribs kicked in, and his pants pissed in, that fact had already passed the believability test.
So he laughed.
It wasn't a joyful laugh, the sound was bitter and barely understandable as a laugh. It was a sour noise, coming from what may as well have been the decomposing husk of a man. They were killing each other, and for Morgan Dragosavich, the only surprise about the whole thing for him was the fact that neither Carter brother was on that list. Nor was nutbar Lorenzo, either.
Toby was. His roommate on the trip, the guy whom he'd laughed with, shared the experience with. The guy who'd whipped him in Magic and had obviously been holding back. Shot by the fucking girl he'd gone to prom with. It was funny, somehow. Morgan wasn't sure how or where the humour came from, but the laughter broke freely from him after that.
Beryl died. Felix, Yuko.
He'd asked one of the sisters out, once upon a time, hadn't he? Was it her? It wasn't the one he'd seen in the library that day with Alton, but was that the one? Who knew.
So many names and so many killers, and all that it was going to do was destroy those around him. He stopped laughing. No one else was. Everyone else looked like they were in a state of shock. Andy in particular was having a hard time. Abel was a buddy of his; right. That seemed fucking weird. Dying to someone like Paloma, right away?
None of his close friends were on the list, in either column. No Michael, Jonah, Henry or Lizzie. Wherever they were, they were safe. Thank God for that. But he knew so many of the other names, and they just... he wasn't crying, but somehow he was wiping away tears.
The announcement ended, and Abe spoke up and made sure to set them all free. The truth may have been glossed over by the terrorists, but context was important. It meant that hey, maybe if they ran into Nick later on, he wasn't a psycho killer, but a devastated ex-boyfriend. Was that what Tirzah had done for Toby? It was impossible to know from what the man said. But he'd trust Abe. Honest Abe.
Now that was a joke.
So funny that Morgan forgot to laugh.
"Well, fuck," was all that he could offer, his voice full of cynicism. They were well and truly fucked, and now they all knew it.
What else was there to do? Lucas Brady told him to fuck off, almost out of reflex, and then realized how stupid he was being. Then the announcement had come on and told them all how fucked they truly were, and the air just seemed to flood away from them all. The uneasy peace vanished and all that they were left with was the terrible fact that people were killing one another.
For Morgan, who'd had his face bashed in, his ribs kicked in, and his pants pissed in, that fact had already passed the believability test.
So he laughed.
It wasn't a joyful laugh, the sound was bitter and barely understandable as a laugh. It was a sour noise, coming from what may as well have been the decomposing husk of a man. They were killing each other, and for Morgan Dragosavich, the only surprise about the whole thing for him was the fact that neither Carter brother was on that list. Nor was nutbar Lorenzo, either.
Toby was. His roommate on the trip, the guy whom he'd laughed with, shared the experience with. The guy who'd whipped him in Magic and had obviously been holding back. Shot by the fucking girl he'd gone to prom with. It was funny, somehow. Morgan wasn't sure how or where the humour came from, but the laughter broke freely from him after that.
Beryl died. Felix, Yuko.
He'd asked one of the sisters out, once upon a time, hadn't he? Was it her? It wasn't the one he'd seen in the library that day with Alton, but was that the one? Who knew.
So many names and so many killers, and all that it was going to do was destroy those around him. He stopped laughing. No one else was. Everyone else looked like they were in a state of shock. Andy in particular was having a hard time. Abel was a buddy of his; right. That seemed fucking weird. Dying to someone like Paloma, right away?
None of his close friends were on the list, in either column. No Michael, Jonah, Henry or Lizzie. Wherever they were, they were safe. Thank God for that. But he knew so many of the other names, and they just... he wasn't crying, but somehow he was wiping away tears.
The announcement ended, and Abe spoke up and made sure to set them all free. The truth may have been glossed over by the terrorists, but context was important. It meant that hey, maybe if they ran into Nick later on, he wasn't a psycho killer, but a devastated ex-boyfriend. Was that what Tirzah had done for Toby? It was impossible to know from what the man said. But he'd trust Abe. Honest Abe.
Now that was a joke.
So funny that Morgan forgot to laugh.
"Well, fuck," was all that he could offer, his voice full of cynicism. They were well and truly fucked, and now they all knew it.
Lucas felt his anger swell as he stared at the ground beneath him. The group just seemed to have such little interest in him, far more concerned with that Asian idiot whose name he didn’t know, and his stupid way of talking. He didn’t know why he’d approached the group in the first place, and he knew he hadn’t made the best first impression, but couldn’t they at least acknowledge him?
It was moot though, as the announcement stole his attention. He listened closely; he would’ve told the others to shut up if they weren’t doing the same. He tried to pick out the names, but so many of them meant nothing to him. So many of the deaths just didn’t hold an emotional weight for him, because he hated his classmates so much. He wasn’t glad they were dead, but why should he care? The only thing he cared about was that Garren’s name wasn’t up there yet. He hadn’t killed anyone, and he was still alive. What did that mean?
Nothing, Lucas decided, shaking the thought out of his head. The area wasn’t going to blow him up, so that saved him a run. There were a dozen or so people already dead and just as many playing, since none of the deaths were suicides. Don’t sleep out in the open, that was obvious. The odds were increasing he’d run into someone who really would try to kill him, and he still didn’t have anything to keep himself safe. No good weapons, no allies, no friends.
He looked up, out of his furtive pose, at the four other boys. They were reacting in their own ways, mostly swearing, but Lucas didn’t care for their own feelings. He opened his throat and mouth. No words. Tried again.
“Are you guys going to join up with me if I tell you I’m trying to save everyone?”
His fists clenched into nervous fists as his teeth squeezed together. God-fucking-damn did he feel stupid.
Stupid, and scared.
It was moot though, as the announcement stole his attention. He listened closely; he would’ve told the others to shut up if they weren’t doing the same. He tried to pick out the names, but so many of them meant nothing to him. So many of the deaths just didn’t hold an emotional weight for him, because he hated his classmates so much. He wasn’t glad they were dead, but why should he care? The only thing he cared about was that Garren’s name wasn’t up there yet. He hadn’t killed anyone, and he was still alive. What did that mean?
Nothing, Lucas decided, shaking the thought out of his head. The area wasn’t going to blow him up, so that saved him a run. There were a dozen or so people already dead and just as many playing, since none of the deaths were suicides. Don’t sleep out in the open, that was obvious. The odds were increasing he’d run into someone who really would try to kill him, and he still didn’t have anything to keep himself safe. No good weapons, no allies, no friends.
He looked up, out of his furtive pose, at the four other boys. They were reacting in their own ways, mostly swearing, but Lucas didn’t care for their own feelings. He opened his throat and mouth. No words. Tried again.
“Are you guys going to join up with me if I tell you I’m trying to save everyone?”
His fists clenched into nervous fists as his teeth squeezed together. God-fucking-damn did he feel stupid.
Stupid, and scared.
Morgan laughed. Andy laughed too, kinda, or he made a choking sort of sound that resembled laughter the way murder resembled a pillow fight. He probably should do something about that, but his veins were shot full of lead all of a sudden. Didn't think he'd be doing much in the way of moving any time soon. Abe was right there in front of him and he'd kinda smiled when he came over because it was nice in this incredibly fucked up way, "hey great to talk to you again, sucks it took the imminent threat of death to make it happen huh," but then he laughed too and there was this blank glassy thing happening in his eyes and he wasn't sure he wanted to be sitting this close anymore.
Axel didn't laugh. It bubbled in his throat for a second and then it died.
Where to fucking start? Abel was dead. Abel was an idiot and he couldn't hold his liquor and he was a good dude. Was in the past tense cause he kind of wasn't anything now because he was dead and he'd been friends with Andy more than he was friends with Axel, really, but he was still a person who talked and laughed and breathed in Axel's head and not on earth and that was fucked up enough, wasn't it? He'd heard Andy's breath hitch, he'd dug his own fingertips in the ground, looking for some kind of purchase cause it felt like the wrong words out of the king motherfucker's mouth would be enough to knock his world off its axis and send him flying back into the trees.
Was a lot of names, in the end, wasn't it? How about that.
Some he knew, some he didn't. In a way it was kinda worse when a name sparked no recognition in him except maybe in Mr. McClellan's droning voice calling attendance. Kids like him who'd had lives and friends and futures and now they had nothing and he couldn't dig a face out of his brain banks even when he tried. Just numbers. Just corpses.
Just Tyrell going for the fucking high score, huh? Just Nick stabbing his ex-girl in the throat. Abe was quick to try and patch that one up, which was cool of him except it meant that he'd seen someone die and that meant he would too, real soon, cause Abe was an asshole and an idiot and real cute in a dorky way and he was a normal thing from home who made everything stupid jokes no matter how dead serious it was and if he saw someone die that made it real in a way nothing else would.
Axel took a deep breath, digging his fingers further into the ground under him. He wasn't paying attention to Lucas because probably no one should ever pay attention to Lucas, but he was sure as hell trying to get it. When he smiled at him, it was all teeth.
"Yeah, sounds good. You've done a damn good job of it so far."
Sounded less cool when he said it out loud what with how shaky his voice was. He glanced to his side at Andy, whose knuckles were starting to go white with how hard he was holding onto that stupid fucking tentacle box and he slid over and slung his arm around his shoulders and squeezed and maybe it wasn't that comforting since he was trembling just as bad.
Maybe Axel just needed to hold something, hey. Maybe he was being selfish. What else was new?
Axel didn't laugh. It bubbled in his throat for a second and then it died.
Where to fucking start? Abel was dead. Abel was an idiot and he couldn't hold his liquor and he was a good dude. Was in the past tense cause he kind of wasn't anything now because he was dead and he'd been friends with Andy more than he was friends with Axel, really, but he was still a person who talked and laughed and breathed in Axel's head and not on earth and that was fucked up enough, wasn't it? He'd heard Andy's breath hitch, he'd dug his own fingertips in the ground, looking for some kind of purchase cause it felt like the wrong words out of the king motherfucker's mouth would be enough to knock his world off its axis and send him flying back into the trees.
Was a lot of names, in the end, wasn't it? How about that.
Some he knew, some he didn't. In a way it was kinda worse when a name sparked no recognition in him except maybe in Mr. McClellan's droning voice calling attendance. Kids like him who'd had lives and friends and futures and now they had nothing and he couldn't dig a face out of his brain banks even when he tried. Just numbers. Just corpses.
Just Tyrell going for the fucking high score, huh? Just Nick stabbing his ex-girl in the throat. Abe was quick to try and patch that one up, which was cool of him except it meant that he'd seen someone die and that meant he would too, real soon, cause Abe was an asshole and an idiot and real cute in a dorky way and he was a normal thing from home who made everything stupid jokes no matter how dead serious it was and if he saw someone die that made it real in a way nothing else would.
Axel took a deep breath, digging his fingers further into the ground under him. He wasn't paying attention to Lucas because probably no one should ever pay attention to Lucas, but he was sure as hell trying to get it. When he smiled at him, it was all teeth.
"Yeah, sounds good. You've done a damn good job of it so far."
Sounded less cool when he said it out loud what with how shaky his voice was. He glanced to his side at Andy, whose knuckles were starting to go white with how hard he was holding onto that stupid fucking tentacle box and he slid over and slung his arm around his shoulders and squeezed and maybe it wasn't that comforting since he was trembling just as bad.
Maybe Axel just needed to hold something, hey. Maybe he was being selfish. What else was new?
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
There was so much noise coming out of everyone's mouths, and Andy didn't fucking care about most of it. There was something funny, too, about Axel hanging on his shoulders like Andy was about to explode any second, not haha-funny but funny all the same, that Axel was the one holding him back instead of the other way around, good old number Four, two and two together, Andy was having trouble breathing.
In. Out. In. Out. Five people in this stupid muck field. Andy didn't like five. Angles all wrong and jagged between them.
It was a good thing that Axel was hanging onto him, he guessed, because if he'd been able to move his arms unobstructed he might have slam dunked the tentabox right into Brady's stupid fucking face. Abe hadn't reached face-slam-dunking territory yet, but his grating fake laughter was on thin fucking ice.
"Save everyone?" He echoed on the heels of Axel's disbelief, always in sync. "How? Who the fuck is gonna be left to save, you dumb little shit?" Never fucking learned his lesson huh, not even after the shitshow circus he'd started back when the student council elections happened. Who even gave a shit about student council? Lucas Brady, enough to grab his reputation, shoot it in the head, and then leave it for the vultures to pick over.
Andy didn't think that Brady had his priorities real in order, was what he was saying, and to say that he'd save everyone- everyone? There was no "everyone" anymore, and apparently there hadn't been since the first few minutes that they'd been here. The plan was a failure before Brady even opened his dumbass mouth, and to even voice his intentions now was an insult.
If his head hadn't been buzzing so much, Andy could have shrugged Axel's arm off and gotten up to storm around, but the thought of standing made him dizzy, so he stayed put.
In. Out. In. Out. Five people in this stupid muck field. Andy didn't like five. Angles all wrong and jagged between them.
It was a good thing that Axel was hanging onto him, he guessed, because if he'd been able to move his arms unobstructed he might have slam dunked the tentabox right into Brady's stupid fucking face. Abe hadn't reached face-slam-dunking territory yet, but his grating fake laughter was on thin fucking ice.
"Save everyone?" He echoed on the heels of Axel's disbelief, always in sync. "How? Who the fuck is gonna be left to save, you dumb little shit?" Never fucking learned his lesson huh, not even after the shitshow circus he'd started back when the student council elections happened. Who even gave a shit about student council? Lucas Brady, enough to grab his reputation, shoot it in the head, and then leave it for the vultures to pick over.
Andy didn't think that Brady had his priorities real in order, was what he was saying, and to say that he'd save everyone- everyone? There was no "everyone" anymore, and apparently there hadn't been since the first few minutes that they'd been here. The plan was a failure before Brady even opened his dumbass mouth, and to even voice his intentions now was an insult.
If his head hadn't been buzzing so much, Andy could have shrugged Axel's arm off and gotten up to storm around, but the thought of standing made him dizzy, so he stayed put.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
What a nice little bundle of jokers they were, haha, all laughing and choking and swearing, which were the appropriate emotional responses to be honest, because every emotional response was appropriate, because what the fuck, haha?
Hoo boy, Abe'd lost it a bit there, with all the talking and the remembering and the defending of the throat-cutter's honor, but like. He was back now. He was cool now. 'Cause, like, on further examination, there were four jokers and one joke, and he hadn't been going into this whole deal planning to belabor the point, because, like, what sorta petty asshole would be IRL-cyberbullying someone in this sorta situation, but Lucas just kept setting himself up, didn't he?
Abe didn't have anything against the guy, and like, the whole Facebook thing had added more legitimate joy to his life than could be said of most of the classmates he didn't give a shit about, so, like, props for that, but did he want to spend the last few days of - spend this period of his life hanging out with a total dipshit, excluding himself and the other dipshits he actually liked? Not really.
And, get this, what was worse than a dipshit? A dipshit who wanted to be a goddamn hero. Say what you would about Henry (like he was one-hundo percent gonna get his head exploded if he tried anything) but at least that guy had like an earnest charisma. When he went down, he'd go down with like three other dudes that legitimately believed in him. That wasn't nothing.
Lucas, though? Anyone with half an internet presence would be expecting the worst from him, and like, maybe that was something he could work with, but not by acting like a clown, which was what he was definitely doing.
Axel and Andy were kind of having a moment together and Abe wasn't particularly inclined to get in their way, because he hadn't managed to piss off Andy yet in the few minutes they'd been in the same five-mile radius and that was probably a new record; but the two of them were shitting on Lucas and he kinda wanted to get on that train. Sounded like fun, in an awful, unproductive way, but when was the last time Abe had ever been productive?
"Yeah, like, points for ambition my dude, but I ain't buyin' it. Wanna let us in on your plan, brain genius?" Maybe he was actually onto something, maybe he was gonna say some more cringeworthy shit. Either way, Abe won.
Hoo boy, Abe'd lost it a bit there, with all the talking and the remembering and the defending of the throat-cutter's honor, but like. He was back now. He was cool now. 'Cause, like, on further examination, there were four jokers and one joke, and he hadn't been going into this whole deal planning to belabor the point, because, like, what sorta petty asshole would be IRL-cyberbullying someone in this sorta situation, but Lucas just kept setting himself up, didn't he?
Abe didn't have anything against the guy, and like, the whole Facebook thing had added more legitimate joy to his life than could be said of most of the classmates he didn't give a shit about, so, like, props for that, but did he want to spend the last few days of - spend this period of his life hanging out with a total dipshit, excluding himself and the other dipshits he actually liked? Not really.
And, get this, what was worse than a dipshit? A dipshit who wanted to be a goddamn hero. Say what you would about Henry (like he was one-hundo percent gonna get his head exploded if he tried anything) but at least that guy had like an earnest charisma. When he went down, he'd go down with like three other dudes that legitimately believed in him. That wasn't nothing.
Lucas, though? Anyone with half an internet presence would be expecting the worst from him, and like, maybe that was something he could work with, but not by acting like a clown, which was what he was definitely doing.
Axel and Andy were kind of having a moment together and Abe wasn't particularly inclined to get in their way, because he hadn't managed to piss off Andy yet in the few minutes they'd been in the same five-mile radius and that was probably a new record; but the two of them were shitting on Lucas and he kinda wanted to get on that train. Sounded like fun, in an awful, unproductive way, but when was the last time Abe had ever been productive?
"Yeah, like, points for ambition my dude, but I ain't buyin' it. Wanna let us in on your plan, brain genius?" Maybe he was actually onto something, maybe he was gonna say some more cringeworthy shit. Either way, Abe won.