alec-flynn - Tumblr blog

[alec-flynn]

mckennaapplepie​:

–

Mckenna perked when he’d gotten it right, looking much like a dog who’d gotten praised for a job well done. He knew it was rude to forget people, made worse by the fact that he was like, sort of famous now. Mckenna wanted to be a lot of things, but he didn’t want to be rude.

“Alec Flynn, right?” he said, looking a bit more confident after the other’s confirmation. Names and faces were hard to remember, but people were more than that. Given a moment of pause to look over the other, he suddenly remembered a cool guitar riff, a boisterous laugh. He remembered watching a little kid with brown hair do goofy things on a swing set before being made an example of by his mother on what not to do.

Don’t you dare smash your cute little face in like that, she said. He had wanted to repeat that to her when she suggested football but he didn’t have the balls to.

“How’s your band going? Vandal Ants or something. I overheard you a couple times when you guys were practicing in a garage on my block, I think. It was awesome,” he said, brightening infinitely. It was all coming back to him then like old, foggy memories he’d tucked behind a dusty book on a forgotten shelf.

Mckenna had always wanted to be part of a band, to sing real songs in front of people and express genuine emotion. To connect. Life had other plans for him, though. Bigger, grander plans. He’d gotten used to it, but he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes what it would’ve been like to have to struggle a little harder for what he wanted and live life a little more.

Alec didn’t look too hot though. His wear was almost intimidating, like the result of what his mother told him would happen if one were to stay in Gravewood. His smile wilted a little as he glanced at Alec’s cast. “Sucks that you’re all banged up. I would’ve loved to have a listen.”

.

It took Alec a moment to realize one half of his mouth had decided to smile. He wanted to be annoyed by that, by the front row seat to the Mckenna Benson charisma that had wormed its way into America’s heart and outshined Alec at every turn. But the dude looked so genuine that he couldn’t help himself. It was like Mckenna was the name brand version of him, some alternate universe Alec Flynn who had been given a chance and hadn’t squandered it. 

His mind wrapped itself around the feeling, tucking it away along with the imagery of a funhouse mirror. God, this guy was even inspiring a new fucking song. Ridiculous. 

“In the flesh,” Alec confirmed with a nod. It was hard to avoid feeling pleased that he was, at the very least, not totally forgettable. And then he brought the band into it, Alec barking out a laugh at the name Vandal Ants but swelling with pride at leaving enough of an impression with his music. It was a small taste of that feeling he’d been chasing his entire life and the remaining defenses fell as a boyish smile took its place. “We’re the Anthem of Vandals, but it’s probably not too late for a little rebranding. And it’s good, it’s going alright. I mean,” Alec laughed a little self-deprecatingly and held up his casted arm, “it’s not really going at all right now, but...” He shrugged, a little bit of that heaviness returning, though it was concealed easily enough behind a lopsided grin. “Give me like two months and we’ll be back at it again.” 

A thought occurred to him then, though, and it was enough to sour his mood once more. Mckenna probably wasn’t sticking around, because Mckenna was living the dream. Living Alec’s dream. Living Alec’s life. His unbroken arm rubbed the opposite shoulder. “You slumming it for a while or...?

[alec-flynn]

Pink Floyd sang about two lost souls in a fishbowl as the sound of buttered bread frying in a pan sizzled its approval. Alec sang along, spatula in hand doubling as a microphone. After a string of incredibly shit days, it’d been nice to be gifted this slight reprieve. At first, his day off seemed content to loom over him, to draw him into the shadowy corners of his mind where his doubts lived and apparently fucked like rabbits, multiplying until he was infested by them.

But it’d actually been a good day. He hadn’t just kept Kahlua alive, he’d made her laugh. Her stuffed animal army had taken on his league of Legos and after a long and harrowing battle, he’d been wiped clean out. He’d acted out several dramatic deaths for her entertainment, to which she’d rewarded him with a belly laugh that had made him feel like a rockstar (and he would know). When she’d gotten bored with that, Alec had read her books and fed her chocolate and taken pictures of her passed out facedown on the couch with said chocolate smeared all over her face to show Jamie later. The house hadn’t burned down, the kids had been fed, and for now, the house slept soundly.

All except for Alec who’d been hit with a serious case of the munchies about thirty minutes ago. Two slices of buttered up bread and three slices of cheese later and here he was.

The sound of the door drew his attention away, though he still held the spatula microphone to his mouth as he turned. Jamie looked grumpy and that made Alec smile. He didn’t love being here, loved even less that he felt stuck, but it was temporary. And there Jamie was looking like Jamie again. Alec’s smile widened, dragging a cursory glance at the mess of a living room he and Kahlua had left behind. He laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Dude, I had no idea such a tiny person could do so much damage.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Want a grilled cheese?”

It had been a long day at work, but when wasn’t it? Something about the cold months drew everyone into the warmth of Marie’s for comfort and while Jamie would’ve normally been thankful for the additional tips, the burgeoning weight of responsibilities sat heavily on his shoulders.

There were four heads to feed, five including his own, and Johnnie’s presence lately had been scarce in the household. Something about Magenta and a doctor. Johnnie had mentioned taking her to the clinic twice in a week but Jamie couldn’t be bothered to keep track of how many girls he’d given the clap to. All he noticed was the lack of support.

With one less working hand, Alec was all but a big child. A big, irresponsible child that had destroyed his own home. His own career. His own purpose in life. What had once been charming quickly turned caustic as he left and returned to the same body strewn over his sofa and in his bed. The warm fondness of fun, summer nights and tiny kisses had dissolved into acid and burned a hole where affection used to bloom.

Cheap beer turned into cheap vodka and cheap vodka turned into Everclear as he scrounged up their last dollar to fuel himself with his own kind of painkiller. It was the only thing that seemed to take the edge off of his day anymore as the image of Sam decked in red haunted his dreams. A shot here and mouthful there. With the ever-flowing pots of coffee at work, Jamie found a good but precarious system to keep himself going.

It was just going to be a few weeks. That was what he told himself to bolster his entry past the door of his own home.

“What the hell, Alec?” he said, pausing at the lit living room as if it wasn’t 2:30 AM. The floor was littered with snack wraps and plush toys, books and lost pen caps. Jamie paused for a moment to stare at the wreckage of the living room, trying to convince his soul not to leave his body at the sight of more work. Annoyance burned in his gut, hot and painful like coals.

“Do you know what time it is? Why the hell are you–Ow!” Jamie stopped in his march towards the sofa, jerking back as a sharp pain dug into his socked foot. He clenched his teeth as he looked down to find a tiny Lego there and sucked in a breath before glaring in Alec’s direction as if to say ’what do you have to say for yourself?’

@alec-flynn​

[alec-flynn]

WHERE: the gallows. WHO: @tobegriffb​ & alec.

It was his last week of work before his indefinite hiatus and his quality of service had been paying the price all night. Alec had never been much of a routine kind of guy, but being stationary, trapped in stasis, he found that having something to look forward to when all he could really do was watch the clock tick away his time like a countdown to doomsday was the only thing getting him through most days. 

That had been his excuse, anyway. It’d started with just the realization that his pills quieted things down a little. Maybe more would leave him in silence. So he’d taken more. And it had worked the way he’d thought it would. For a few days, at least. And then when he’d crushed them up into fine powder, he decided he liked that high best of all. It hadn’t just released him from the pain in his arm, but from all of it. 

He jumped awake at the sensation of falling, realized he was out back of The Gallows with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, ass hanging off a turned over milk carton pressed up against the wall. Shit, he hadn’t been out that long, right? That welcoming nothing tried to beckon him back into the darkness once more, blinking his eyes long and slow until they nearly shut again, but he forced himself up, took one last, long drag off his cigarette and stabbed it out on the wall before tossing it into the dumpster.

As he passed by the bathroom on the way back to the bar, he considered slipping in for another quick line, but he was certain that would knock him on his ass for longer than he had time for, so with a little grief, he kept walking. He slipped behind the bar and tossed a rag over his shoulder, picking up glasses only to put them back down again in some half-assed attempt to look busy. Like he’d been here all night. Like he hadn’t just dozed off outside. 

And then, finally, he turned back to the bar to do a quick sweep of drinks and patrons only to find someone new had taken up a seat at the bar. Alec sniffed, swallowing down the drip in the back of his throat as his eyes settled on Griffin Baxley. “Griffin,” Alec greeted with a bright smile, smacking the rag down on the bar top in front of him. He was instantly on edge and he couldn’t explain why that was. Griffin just struck him as someone who saw too much and right now, Alec didn’t care to be seen. “What’s up, man? What’re you drinkin’?”

[alec-flynn]

indyerstraits​:

–

Jamie was lost in his thoughts again as he watched the head of his beer foam through the top, already calculating how much bigger the bills were going to be with one more person to account for. $150 for electricity, $65 for gas, $120 for cable, $70 for water… Another $50 for food.

He massaged his temple with the back of his thumb as he began pacing the kitchen. Their bills were going to go up by 10%. A 10% he wasn’t sure he could make at a little diner where all the customers knew he was crabby. His fault, but it still weighed on him like anchors. Jamie knew he had been drowning, but he was sinking now. Plummeting into the deep like a broken torpedo.

It was only for a little while, he told himself. He could handle a little while.

Jamie was taken aback by the playful jab on Alec’s part, blinking back to the world of people. His tiny smile and pleading eyes always found a way to warm him straight to his heart.

“Maybe later. I want to lay down for a bit before work,” he said, voice softening a bit as he looked Alec over. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have Alec around more often… Maybe.

Putting down his beer, Jamie reached into the cabinet under the sink and took out a plastic grocery bag. He fanned it out before sticking Alec’s cast into it and tying it off where it ended.

“Try not to get that wet,” he instructed before picking up his drink again. “You’ve gotta jostle the knob to the right before turning it to the left for hot water. Don’t take forever in there, okay?”

.

Alec’s eyes softened as Jamie spoke and he nodded. He’d been prepared for the rejection— had expected it, even— so it didn’t land like a blow when it came. Instead, some of those warm, fluttering feelings returned as Jamie shook out a grocery bag and wrapped his arm in it— something Alec certainly wouldn’t have thought to do until he’d already gotten it soaked.

He smiled softly as Jamie released him, inspecting the work as he took one step and then another back towards the stairs. “Thanks,” he said quietly. Everything was absolute shit right now, but it felt like finally breaking the surface after behind dragged under the water and tossed around beneath the waves, bridging this small gap. To think that, this, at least, might be okay.

Alec decided to leave Jamie to it. He desperately needed sleep himself but nowhere near as badly as he needed to wash the night off him. He paused just before rounding the corner out of sight and turned back. “You bailing me out of jail is actually kind of hot,” he said with a wink he wasn’t sure Jamie saw before disappearing up the stairs.

[alec-flynn]

mariannebyrne​:

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛    

In her memories, the nameless figure Marianne had shared a single night with in college had shifted. He’d grown taller, his eyes bounced around the color spectrum, the little that she remembered of his voice had faded into nonexistence. But now that she was standing in front of him, it was unmistakable.

He was the one-night-only musician from her campus bar. The one she’d let charm her after she was a couple of drinks in. And he remembered her too.

Were all of her past mistakes going to haunt her in Gravewood?

The evening itself had been blurry, but the aftermath was still a crystal clear memory. One test, followed by four more because the first few were somehow clearly wrong. One appointment. And all of it done alone, in secret, just days after she’d finalized her book and handed in her remaining assignments for the semester. 

She had never searched for him after that night. She’d never felt the need to, given how easy it was for her to make her decision and how little it impacted him. It really wasn’t a big deal. And yet… seeing him again wasn’t just like missing a step on the stairs. It was being pushed down an entire flight.

They were never supposed to see each other again, so what was he doing in Gravewood?

There was no use in pretending that she wasn’t the girl from Maine, especially when she was sure there had already been some spark of recognition for him to see in her eyes, even with dim lighting. However, the groupie accusations? Unforgivable. His music had not been the most memorable part of that encounter.

“Excuse me?” Mari asked a full ten seconds of tense silence later, her tone appropriately sharp. “If I wanted to know back then, I would have asked. What are you doing here?”

.

The silence only seemed to serve as confirmation that Alec was right. He thought maybe he should assure that he didn’t think being a groupie was a bad thing at all. He was super flattered, actually. He even dragged an appreciative glance down the length of her, as if pulling memories from the haze and dusting them off. The fact that he remembered at all was a compliment, was it not? 

When the denial came, her voice slicing through the quiet and drawing his attention back to her face, Alec’s small smile grew a little wider. There was an edge to her words, one that Alec probably should have known better than to poke and prod at, but he’d always been willfully ignorant at best and downright stupid at worst. So the grin remained, his shoulders shrugging up, loose and casual. “Okay. Whatever you say.” 

His eyes narrowed on her as he took another puff of his cigarette, drawing out the answer to her question for no reason except that he thought it was funny. She looked so serious, bathed in the orange hued street light. And something about that made him want to be contrary. “I live here. You’re looking at a born and bred ...Gravewoodian? Gravewoodite?” He raised a brow like somehow he had the upper hand. He’d been here all his life, so what was her excuse? “What are you doing here?”

[alec-flynn]

It’d been a rough night. He’d put in his indefinite time off request before he’d clocked in despite how little he actually wanted to do it. He’d already lost so much of his own independence that the whole thing made him uneasy. Trapped even more than he already was. 

It was his manager’s easy acceptance of it that had really rankled him, though. She had agreed so readily, like she’d been relieved he’d been the one to broach the subject. Alec was aware that he hadn’t been the smoothest or most efficient bartender lately, working with only one operational non-dominant hand and everything, but this had been his element once. And now he just felt edged out.

The thought had plagued him all night, had made him even sloppier. He’d spilled a few drinks, had knocked into several others. He’d gotten orders wrong or been slow to refill. It was as if the harder he worked, the more that worked against him. Failure became an incessant buzzing in his mind, growing steadily louder until it seemed to block out the room entirely. His thoughts compounded on themselves. The crash, his van, that miserable night in jail, his arm, his phone, his job. 

It was all so fucking loud that even a smoke break did nothing to chip away at it. This would be the time he might retreat into his music, but he couldn’t even do that. He was useless. 

Standing in front of the mirror of the men’s room, Alec splashed some cold water on his face, locking eyes with his reflection for a long moment. He wanted to run— needed to run— but he had nowhere to go.

Nowhere except...

He slipped his hand into his pocket, the rattle of his quickly-dwindling bottle of pills drawing his attention away from his reflection. They were pain pills. He had pain. And he was so fucking tired of feeling so angry. Like some feral animal that had been backed into a corner, ready to strike at anything that came too close. 

So he thought... fuck it.

He placed the pill on the counter and used the container of hand soap to crush it. This was its own sort of running, one that he knew would have instant results. So he didn’t think too much about it as he cut it into a nice little line, fished a bill from his wallet, rolled it up into a makeshift straw, and inhaled.

The bitter taste hit the back of his throat first, his eyes watering as he tilted his head back, eyes closed. In the dingy, dimly-lit bathroom, relief dulled the roar to a manageable hum. He thought maybe he was supposed to be feel guilty or ashamed, but as he looked back down to the counter and dragged a finger through the residue left behind, he didn’t feel any of that. Instead, it felt like the first decision he’d made for himself in a long time. 

He wiped down the counter and then splashed some more water on his face, sniffling at the drip in his throat. He lingered there for a few minutes before the cool euphoria began to seep in all at once, pocketing his wallet and handy little pill bottle before making his way out of the bathroom. 

Alec didn’t see Charlotte until they’d collided and he reached out with his casted arm instinctually, grabbing at nothing but empty air. He laughed, though, waving off her apology before narrowing his eyes and trying to focus on what she was saying. Because he knew it was important. One of those read between the lines things... 

Oh. 

Alec snapped and pointed in her direction. “Right,” he said with another laugh and an exaggerated wink. He sniffed and looked towards the bar for the man in question (though if he was being honest, he hadn’t really looked) before turning back to Charlotte. “What’ll it be tonight, Charlie? You want me to be subtle or do you want a show?”

location: the gallows starter for: @alec-flynn​

It started out as another night for dear Charlotte, spending far too much of her free evenings loitering around the Gallows in whatever short outfit she had fished out of her closet for that evening. Here, the shorter the skirt, the hungrier the looks Charlotte got from the men that frequented such a bar as this. 

The more attention, the better as Charlotte’s mum had once told her, when the greedy eyes of pageant judges lavished over her teenaged body growing up, but Charlotte was assured that it was all in the name of fame and fortune. Thus, it was no surprise that already, the pretty young girl was in the clutches of a much older man. Stubble littered his chin, and his hungry eyes all too eager to keep buying Charlotte drinks. 

She loved the attention, relished in it. To these men in these bars she wasn’t just a young girl, but a woman that they looked at, that they wanted. Charlotte learned very quickly that a giggle here, and a few batted eyelashes had most men falling over their chairs. Alas, it appeared this one had fallen over quite too literally, leading Charlotte to have his beer all over her lap. 

A quick trip to the bathroom, and out Charlotte rushed once all dry, straight into a familiarly tall person. Stopping herself from falling, she put her hands out to hold onto the familiar sight of Alec. “Oh- I’m so sorry,” she began, checking him over. “I think one of those patrons is a bit.. unduly intoxicated?” she said, looking just a slight bit worried, and the tiniest bit sheepish.

[alec-flynn]

indyerstraits​:

Jamie gave Alec a sidelong look at his sudden defensiveness, uncertain of what to make of it. He was well aware of Alec’s hedonistic tendencies and hospital-prescribed pain medication was the leading cause of a lot of problems in the south– exactly where they were. But Jamie understood pain and how small people’s thresholds could be, especially when his own head was pounding a beat in his skull.

It was weak, but what could Jamie say?

The silence between them was long and deafening, filled with quiet puffs of smoke and gravel beneath their feet. Jamie wasn’t sure if it had always been like that or if this was the first time he had to deal with more than the usual. Margie hadn’t shown up in months which was a relief but then Sam sprung up like a daisy and now Alec had gotten himself into more trouble than even Jamie knew what to do with.

“I guess that’s what happens when you live in your car,” Jamie said, trying not to sound curt about it. He understood, really, how desperate people could be but Alec had never once left Gravewood. Not for long anyway. All he could think about was how irresponsible he must’ve been to have never decided to settle down anywhere so that his shit didn’t explode in a fire, thanks to his own recklessness.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said in response to the thanks. It didn’t sound as convincing as he wanted it to, but they were approaching the house. The keys jangled in Jamie’s pocket as they ascended the stairs. He tossed the cherry of his second cigarette into the dying shrubs before letting them inside. The house had always looked small, but it looked even smaller with Alec in it.

“Look, I have extra clothes. The stuff with the flowers on it are Johnnie’s but the flannels are free-for-all,” he said as he stripped off his shoes and made a beeline for the fridge to grab a beer.

“Extra toothbrush is in the cabinet behind the mirror. Sheets in the closet in the hallway and uh, I guess if you’re hungry, you can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.” Jamie cracked the can and pounded his drink before exhaling a long breath. “Except for the beer. And Stella’s fruit cups. She’ll get pissed if they’re missing.”  

.

Alec tried not to take it personally. He really did. If he considered the amount of absolute shit that had happened in the last couple of days, he could hardly blame Jamie for being a little on edge. He was, too. Part of him was sure he was still in some stage of shock on a slow thaw back to reality. All of him just wanted to sleep.

“Yeah…” Alec said slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he forced his eyes to look ahead or away or just anywhere else at all. The silence was heavy and uncomfortable, like opening a dryer full of half-wet clothes, the air so hot and thick you could choke on it. But for some reason, Alec thought it was probably better than the alternative.

Alec swiped a hand through his hair, yanking his fingers through knots before finishing off the rest of his cigarette in silence and flicking it off into oblivion. It did little to soothe his fraying nerves, his night in captivity still clinging to him like a too-tight wet shirt.

He nodded robotically at the rules. No flower shirts, flannels okay. No beer, no fruit cups, everything else up for grabs. All the while he reminded himself that this was temporary. So were the feelings. He watched Jamie grab a beer from the fridge, watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He traced the lines of him with his eyes and realized that now, he was the closest thing he had to home. And maybe that was why he felt so off balance. He'd lost so much and his only other safety net felt so far away.

So Alec tried again because he couldn't just leave things alone. He needed reassurance. Or just a small smile. Something. Anything. “I think I'm just gonna grab a shower.” He tipped his head as he eyed Jamie with playful intention, a small grin dimpling one corner of his mouth. He already knew the answer to his question would be a resounding no, but the answer wasn't the point. “Wanna join me?”

[alec-flynn]

mckennaapplepie​:

–

Mckenna didn’t really know what to do in the face of Alec’s dismissal, looking a bit stunned but unsure at which part. He sounded mad or something. Like he’d done something wrong to him but Mckenna couldn’t place the guy. 

Admittedly, he didn’t have a very good memory. Football hadn’t been something he’d chosen for himself, the violence of tackling other people and running until he threw up were never as appealing as belting songs and learning choreography. But his youth had been dedicated to proving that he could pitch and run and tackle with the big boys, all of which had granted many privileges. It’s just that he wasn’t sure he wanted to sacrifice so many braincells for something he hadn’t wanted to do in the first place.

The sound of Alec dragging the bags across concrete and struggling filled the awkward silence that then took place between them. Mckenna noticed that he was taking a long time before he then noticed the strap stuck to the door handle. Quietly, he unhooked him and watched him stumble over with his own effort. 

“Okay, well, if you change your mind, just holler, I guess…” he said, still holding the door and still watching as the other made his way to the dumpster. It was a big dumpster. Mckenna thought of offering again, but feared a second rejection.

 It was just garbage, but it was still a rejection.

“You’re the guy who was in band, right?” Mckenna said after a beat. It was the greasy hair and three day old scruff. He looked like a musician of the rock band sort. The kind his mother refused to let him listen to in fear of him discovering black box dye. 

“You guys played the instrumentals for the musical we did in senior year. I remember you,” he continued. “Didn’t you get suspended for refusing to wear shoes or something?”

.

Alec worked to heave the trash cans over the lip of the dumpster for a lot longer than he would have liked. Each second that ticked by unassisted while Mckenna stood watching from the door made Alec’s insides prickle. Realistically, he knew he was doing it again. He was channeling days and weeks and lifetimes worth of frustration into the closest target. This one just happened to also be rooted into some of his own childhood insecurities.

It only made it worse when it was clear that Mckenna didn’t even know who he was. Made sense, Alec figured. He’d only ever existed in his shadow, after all. 

God, the woe is me shit was getting so tired.

He wanted to apologize just as much as he wanted to double down, but mostly he just wished the king of the CW would go inside and leave him to struggle in peace. He was so tired of feeling helpless. It was so much worse when there was someone around to see it.

But then Mckenna spoke again and Alec managed to shove the last bag over the side where the otherwise empty dumpster rang like a gong at its new offering. He turned at the question, feeling somehow worse that he did recognize him, but not enough to place him. He would have preferred the total obscurity. 

“Yeah,” Alec answered finally, his voice losing its sharpened edge. Being defensive was so tiring, too much work with absolutely no payoff. He didn’t mention that he’d also tried out for the parts in the musicals that went to Mckenna. Every single time. It was a moot point, anyway. “That was me.”

“No one could ever explain to me why they were necessary. So I decided they weren’t.” He picked at something stuck to his cast, let it fall to the ground. “But if you gotta call me something, I usually answer to Alec. Rolls off the tongue better than that kid who got suspended for not wearing shoes.”

[alec-flynn]

mariannebyrne​:

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛    

When her night had first begun, Marianne Byrne had had no intention of ending up anywhere near The Gallows.

She didn’t drink. She had a grand total of 1.5 friends, combined - none of which she was meeting up with that evening and all of which knew better than to suggest the local alcoholic’s paradise. And she hadn’t yet crossed the bridge of wanting to hover in an awful setting just to overhear a long-delayed confession (that would, in turn, lead to some vigilante justice).

But she’d started walking a half hour prior and somehow her feet had taken her to the local dive bar anyway.

To, but not inside. She’d only been there for a matter of minutes, descriptions of the dilapidated building already swirling in her mind in the event that she decided to exploit her own misery for financial gain. She hadn’t yet taken out her phone to jot them down. She hadn’t done anything.

She was just hovering. Awkwardly. Staring off against a justified, yet impractical enemy.

Until a smoker outside called out to her.

“Oh… no, I don’t think so,” she was quick to insist. And from afar, she was pretty certain that the man was truly a stranger.

However, Marianne was not one to let a sliver of doubt remain. And somewhere, deep, deep down… something about him had been familiar.

It’s a small town, she rationalized to herself as she took a couple of steps closer. Everyone knows everyone, on some level.

But bathed in the neon lights from the various signs on the outside of the building and aided by the streetlight nearby, the mysterious figure was growing a little less mysterious.

Because Mari did know him. Sort of. His voice, certainly, and his general vibe…

Oh no.

Maine. What felt like a lifetime ago. A traveling troubadour. A campus bar. She never could remember his name, but she’d met him back when everything had both been okay and yet too much. Over a year ago, when the pressures of balancing college and the race to the finish with her book were the biggest concerns in her life.

He was a drunken mistake.

Just… no. Not that kind.

The kind that was just in town for a night, who you got drunk with and poured your heart out to. Whose name you didn’t know. Who took all of your troubles with them when they left. No sex. Not even a kiss. Just… a one-night-only therapist.

But just because she was gaining clarity on some of the specifics (barely), that didn’t mean he was.

Having perhaps been staring for a beat too long by that point, Mari could only stay frozen right where she was as she tossed out a question that could either mean (emotional, embarrassment-based) life or death.

“Or, wait… how, exactly?”

.

It wasn’t a clear memory, but it still bounced around up inside his noggin with just enough to latch onto. Maybe it was because it had been such a manic time in his life, running from problems so much bigger than himself. Ones he knew he had no real chance of outrunning.

He had, though, in the end. Kind of, anyway. 

The man who sat on this curb now was a far cry from the boy who had found himself in some college town in Maine, lending an ear to a drunk college girl who had been bogged down and burdened by problems of her own. His problems felt just as big time time around, though. Maybe even bigger. 

But no, this was definitely her. The recognition pricked in his chest and he nodded as he took another long drag from his cigarette. “I swear to god,” he said through a grin that split his face. “You’re the Maine girl. What are you doing all the way out here?”

It seemed strange that she’d wind up here, sharing space with him again. It was too coincidental...

Wait. 

Was it possible that she was a—

“Groupie?” he asked, feeling suddenly smug, like he’d hit the nail on the head. “If you’d asked back then, I would have just told you this was the last stop on the tour. Probably would have saved a ton of time.”

[alec-flynn]

In the days that passed, Alec began measuring time in highs and lows. People would wax poetic about how change was hard, or change builds character, or the only constant in life is change. Well, change could suck his asshole. 

Today had been a definitively low day. It’d had a rough start which had only set the tone for everything else that followed. He felt spent, wrung out like a dirty washcloth. There was nothing left for him to give, but so much more he owed. And his arm hurt and he itched in places he couldn’t reach, and, at work, the novelty of his charm was quickly losing against just how slow and clumsy his cast made him. 

Most days, he felt like he’d been reduced to a broken pressure valve, slowly building up and building up and building up until he was certain he would explode. It wasn’t something he was familiar with, this caged, angry feeling. The only time it ever seemed to get any quieter were those sweet spots after he’d taken another pill. The pain would dull and lessen until it went away altogether. The buzzing in his head would quiet. He could breathe.

But for now, he was fighting with two trash bags that had been overstuffed, awkwardly shaped as pieces of cardboard boxes that hadn’t been properly broken down stuck out at odd angles. He shoved his way through the door, casted arm catching first before one of the ties latched onto the door handle and yanked him backwards. He wanted to lose it right then, wanted to scream his frustrations into the world and hope that someone might hear him. Might help him.

And then the universe delivered in the usual way it did. It presented him with the one person he would have been happy never to see again.

Mckenna Benson. The golden boy of Gravewood. 

Alec Flynn was not a jealous person. He really wasn’t. But how could he not be? He was everything Mckenna was: he was charming and talented and handsome. But he was grittier. Rawer. It never made sense to him how he’d always been one step behind. At least with Mckenna gone, the thoughts didn’t have to plague him. 

But he wasn’t gone. He was right here like the local hero boy who saved the kitten from the tree. Alec almost glanced around to make sure there weren’t any cameras around, just waiting to celebrate him for his daily good deed. 

Alec, still struggling with the bags, shouldered past him. “I got it,” he said, none too kindly. It bothered him, feeling like this. Being snappish and petty. That wasn’t his style. And yet.

“This actually requires you to get your hands dirty and I’m sure you just came from a mani/pedi, so I’ll spare you. But hey,” he said, voice rising with false cheer, “thanks for the generous offer.”

The weather in Gravewood was a refreshing change from the sunny plains of California. Mckenna never personally found difficulty coming back home, always delighted to be shrouded into relative obscurity. Small town fame was nothing like the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, The Banshee’s worst article a biting sliver next to TMZ. He hated to admit it, but he enjoyed being a big fish in a small pond. A very small pond. So small that it was hard to find enough things to do when he was accustomed to the fast-paced bustle of the city. 

Okay, so maybe he didn’t like that part but the rest of it was good. Quiet. Small. Obscure. Mckenna gazed up at the two mountains flanking the sides of the town, faded by mist like a watercolour painting.

He was busy taking in the great West Virginian landscape when he heard the loud crash-bang! of something heavy and metallic before another series of crashes soon followed. His first reaction was to survey the area for photographers in trash cans before he realized that most places just had garbage in them. 

Mckenna watched as a moment as a man struggled out the door with two trash bags in one hand, one of which was torn and spilling food all onto the concrete. He looked like he was trying really hard, shoulder bunting into the door as he wrangled with the weight of the bags. It was hard not to stare when it’d been ages since he last saw raw, hard labor.

 He stepped up and held the door open for the guy and caught sight of his cast. He felt really bad then for not acting sooner.

“Uh, hey. Do you need help with that?” he said, glancing at the garbage bags. “Looks like you’re having a bit of trouble there.”

@alec-flynn​

[alec-flynn]

indyerstraits​:

–

“Surprised they didn’t take them. I’m pretty sure half of the drug trade in this town belongs to the cops,” Jamie said. He looked slightly uneasy at the rattling pills, eyes searching the pebbles on the ground as he shifted them with his feet. His eyes flicked up at the sound of Alec popping the lid and crunching on a pill like tic-tacs, expression carefully schooled into passivity.

“No, but I don’t want any. Seen my mother snort too many lines of oxy to partake,” he said, sounding clinical again. The throbbing in his head begged otherwise, but Jamie was keen on ignoring it. He pushed Alec’s offer back towards him. “You be careful with those now, you hear me?”

Jamie turned away then, taking the lead as they  started walking towards his house. The weather was cold and gloomy, winter’s tendrils settling into the autumn cracks already and shedding leaves along the sidewalk. He busied his eyes with the road ahead, unwilling to validate Alec’s forced cheer when there was a burden hanging over both their heads.

Alec had never been one for a good work ethic, his preference for slacking and indulging in a good time meant that he was another head to feed. Another body to clothe, to wash, to clean up after. The DUI meant that he couldn’t even do groceries if Johnnie had gotten him another car.

“Right,” he said after too long of a beat. Jamie knew he sounded distracted, but who was going to blame him? The only reprieve he could think of was the six pack waiting for him at home. God forbid that Johnnie had drank it. Jamie heaved a sigh at the reminder of work and itched at his forehead again, hand emerging with another cigarette between his fingers.

“Yep. five-to-closing. I’ll be back around 2. I can leave my keys in the mailbox if you’re heading out too but uh, I think you should probably take a breather with that.” He tipped his chin at Alec’s cast. “You’re gonna need that if you plan on going anywhere.”

.

Alec had the decency to look a little contrite at Jamie's words, slowing his chewing and swallowing whatever hadn't been crunched between his teeth dry. He made a face, both at the bitterness currently assaulting his mouth, and Jamie's warning. “It's just one,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. He’d been aiming for reassurance but he was certain all he managed was tired. “My arm's fucking killing me.”

And okay, was he being a little dramatic? Maybe. The fucker did hurt, yes, but he tended to remain stoic in the face of true pain. But something about this whole encounter with Jamie felt stilted and stiff. And it was entirely possible that he was feeling a little raw and a lot sensitive right now, prone to reading into confirmations that he was nothing to anyone except a problem. Considering the night he'd had, he felt like he'd earned the right to be a little sensitive.

Frustration slid into the cracks and Alec rubbed at his jaw, eyes still squinted to ward off the light of the sun currently poking its fingers straight through his eyeballs and into his sinuses. Everything weighed so heavy and maybe— hopefully— sleep and a shower would see him slightly less frayed on the other side of this. But this was a DUI charge that, by all rights belonged to Jamie. This was the loss of his home, of the very few things in the world that belonged to him. This was fines out the fucking ass that he’d now have to figure out on top of saving to… what? To buy another van? How long was couch surfing going to be viable?

Jesus Christ, he was spiraling.

His hand scrubbed over his face with a sigh. “I was gonna go see if there’s anything…” left, “salvagable. Clothes or…” Alec shrugged. “But yeah. Yeah, maybe I’ll just take it easy tonight.” He eyed Jamie sidelong, tried to find the ease in which they’d existed with each other before and slip right back into it. It’d never felt like a thing he had to try before. “Thanks,” he said quietly. The gratitude was genuine even as his mind wandered down darker paths. He thought about bringing up Griffin’s visit, but decided against rocking an already unsteady boat. “For getting me out of there. I’ll pay you back if for nothing else, than for sparing me having to shit in a hole.” He smiled, but it felt foreign on his face, too-tight skin stretched over hollowed-out bone. A laugh, small like a scoff. “Felt like a goddamn zoo animal.”

[alec-flynn]

austinxxjames​:

-  - -

Austin hadn’t considered that- messing with peoples perceptions. Obviously, until this moment, he hadn’t known this dude at all, but it quickly became clear that should’ve been his first thought. “A writer face?”

The most he had ever written was thousands upon thousands of words for academia, not something that people technically counted as writing. “I’ve never really been one, but now I kind of want to be. Are you a writer?”

He took the offered hand, shaking it and feeling like he’d actually made a friend in Alec, “Good to meet you too. You got a conspiracy you want me to be spreading? We could make up one of those Avril Lavigne conspiracies– get people analyzing our moles and stuff.”

.

“Yeah,” Alec said with a one-shouldered shrug. “You know, like...” He circled his face with his hand once again as if that explained everything his words couldn’t. Maybe Alec had given him too much credit, though. “The face.” 

The question volleyed back to him and Alec stood a little straighter, stretching like he might hit an impressive 6′2. He probably did not have the face, which was fine because his was still a good one. A great one. “I guess you could say that. I’m a musician.” His hands propped on his hips, proud. He wrote music and words. Checkmate, look yoinker.

It was all in good fun, though, even if the ribbing was only one-sided and in his own mind, and Alec’s grin widened. “I dunno, I kinda like the Avril theory. Someone is out there making Alec replicas and we all just keep winding up in Gravewood. Actually, that sounds like a horror movie.”

[alec-flynn]

indyerstraits​:

–

“Yeah, you do that. I’ll text Mack and see if she’ll give me any of her shifts,” Jamie said with a kind of clinical coldness that only developed over years of having to do damage control for his parents. There was no point in having strong feelings about something that was bound to happen over and over again. It was a waste of energy. Energy he could be spending fixing things.

He puffed on his cigarette for a bit before taking it from his lips and pressing the cherry against Alec’s to light it.

“My head is killing me,” he answered, itching at the paper stitches on his forehead. It was one of the few things he’d left on in fear of having his brain spilling out of his skull. Realistically unlikely, but it sure felt like it.

Taking a few more long drags of his cigarette, Jamie seemed to emerge from the smoke with a little more life as he looked over at Alec. Something like pity warmed his eyes as he looked over the bag clutched to his chest, his plastered arm. Could he take in another child right now? His heart told him he could and his brain too sore to protest.

“You wanna stay at mine?” he asked, tossing the cherry into the gutter before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “It’s not a huge place, but we’ve got a couch, debatable plumbing and laundry. You’ll have to deal with the kids and my dad once in a while, but it’s better than nothing.”

.

Maybe it was shock, the enormity of his loss yet to be fully realized, but Alec stood silent as Jamie puffed on his cigarette before lighting his for him. He took a greedy drag as the end glowed amber and then another for good measure. It did little to quell that simmering dread in his belly, but it was something.

Jamie launched into fix-it mode, and Alec figured it was probably not a good time to bring up his fines and looming court date, so he stayed more or less silent, sticking the cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he tried and failed to reach an itch in his casted arm. The mention of a headache made Alec's own head throb in agreement and he rifled through his plastic bag until he was producing the pills they'd refused him while he'd been in custody. He rattled them a little. “They wouldn't let me have any, fucking pigs.” He unscrewed the lid and popped a pill into his mouth, chewing on it in the hope it would hit faster. “Did they give you anything for that?” he asked Jamie, nodding towards the cut on his head. “You can have one if you need it.”

He held it out for Jamie to take if he wanted, going through the motions, trying to let reality in little by little unless he was prepared to drown in it.

Jamie's offer had him sighing his relief, finally finding some footing after the shit show that had been the previous night. He found a grin and it stretched across his face like a mask. “You'll hardly even notice me.” He grinned a little wider, hoping he'd only imagined the icy distance. “Just long enough until I can figure out what I'm gonna do and I'll be out of your hair.”

Silence stitched itself to their shoes like a shadow and Alec felt off balance again. His sleepless night was catching up to him, his eyes blinking heavy in an effort to clear his vision. “Do you work tonight?”

[alec-flynn]

WHERE: the gallows. again. still.  WHO: @ellexreynolds​ & alec.

It was only a matter of time before they cut his hours back. There had been friendly offers to pick up shifts, then suggestions. Each time, he laughed and waved them off, said he got this. More accurately, he needed this. He’d never been good with money but he was trying, and now it was a dire situation— which was not a pun, but would have been a good one— and it was all going to shit.

Oh, and the part he loved the most? The judgmental looks or the gentle talking tos he’d gotten as a result of his DUI charge. Apparently, that little bit of news was making the rounds which was awesome. 

Elle Reynolds sat off to the side alone tonight and honestly, everyone else was getting under his skin. He’d been irritable lately, quick to frustration where he used to just let things roll off his back. A friendly face was more than welcome. So, he made his way over, bringing with him the bottle of wine he’d been topping her up with all night. “More?” he asked as he made his way over, twirling the bottle enticingly. 

[alec-flynn]

WHERE: the gallows. WHO: @mackenziegthomas​ & alec.

These rushes were going to be a problem. Alec was operating with one hand, and not even the dominant one, and he was making rookie mistakes. He could feel the frustration of the crowd— his regulars a little more forgiving than the rest, but not by much— and it was getting into his head a little. His eyes kept cutting to the clock on the wall, every ache in his head or his arm making the minutes seem to crawl by until he could take another pill. 

It felt like all the bullshit got a little bit quieter after about twenty minutes. A little bit faster if he chewed. And god, he needed quiet. 

Turning back to the bar, he tossed his rag over his shoulder, leaning his elbows on the bar top and nearly knocking a drink over in the process. “Shit, sorry.” He yanked the rag off his shoulder to mop up the slight spill as Mack took a seat at the bar. Relief at friend versus customer brought a genuine smile to his lips. It felt like it’d been a while, so he let it widen. “Mack-aroni! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. What can I get you?”

[alec-flynn]

WHERE: just outside the gallows. WHO: @mariannebyrne​ & alec.

Sucking greedily on his cigarette, Alec perched on a curb outside The Gallows. The night had been a shit show, Alec with his big, clunky arm hadn’t quite found his rhythm, knocking into drinks when he wasn’t outright spilling them. The pity tips had been nice for the first half of the night, but there had been an obvious staunch of that cash flow now. Operating with his left hand was proving far more difficult than he’d anticipated.

He’d retreated to the bathroom to pop another one of his pills about half an hour ago. The pain had subsided and so had the money woes and worries. His nose itched and he wrinkled it as he puffed on his cigarette and then held it in front of his face, watching as he tapped the ash loose and it fluttered to the ground. 

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, eyes flicking to the orange fluorescent street lights currently being mobbed by moths. It was movement of the human variety that drew his attention again and he brought the cigarette to his lips once more as his eyes landed on a face that was vaguely familiar to him in the way that a quickly fading dream is more of a feeling than a memory. He squinted, pointing his cigarette at her. “I know you.”

[alec-flynn]

Alec was no stranger to loneliness; he had met it in every form, after all. A transient by choice, music and the road became all he could depend on. Running when the thoughts got too loud had just sort of become his way to cope. There was no running now. 

Glancing down at his plaster-covered right hand, he tried to force the image of his fiery van– his home– from his mind, and ignored the intrusive thoughts reminding him he'd lost those, too. 

Surrounded by chipped yellowed-white painted brick and a piss stained concrete floor with nothing but his own mind to keep him company as he grew more and more sober, Alec curled in on himself. His head was aching, and when he'd asked for one of the pills they'd prescribed him for the pain in his arm, he'd been ignored. 

When he wasn't in a near fetal position on the bench, he was pacing the bars like a tiger at a zoo, feeling the walls close in on him as his captivity looked like a guillotine overhead. 

And then, finally: “Flynn. Your bail’s been posted. You're free to go.” 

He followed the heavy booted footfalls to the front where he was ushered through doors they had to buzz to open, Alec's head hanging in defeat. It'd been a long sleepless night and he was yearning for a home that no longer existed. A bed, just an hour or two or sleep. Something. Anything. 

Jamie, at least, was a welcomed sight. Alec perked up, more for Jamie's sake than his own, and collected his belongings in silence. He might have held on a little tighter, his worldly possessions dwindled down to what could fit in a plastic bag, but he was alive. Jamie was alive. He only breathed a little easier once they were out of the police station, putting on a smile as he turned to Jamie. But Jamie was already speaking. 

The words were a much colder welcome than he'd been expecting and the smile slipped from his face immediately. He knew enough about Jamie's struggles to know that scraping together more than a grand was no easy task and he was definitely fucking thankful to be out of there, but he didn't understand the detachment. He wasn't expecting a thank you here, but Alec had just spent the night in jail for something he didn't do. For Jamie. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, squinting against the sun as his head threatened to split in protest, shoulders rounding in a new sort of defeat. “I'll see if there's anything salvageable on Bessy, maybe I could get some money from that.” His guts twisted at the loss of her all over again. “I'll figure it out.” 

He glanced down at the offered cigarette and took it greedily. He was surveying the unlit end of the cigarette when Jamie spoke again and this time he couldn't keep the flinch from his face. The mention of his loss sounded so flippant from Jamie's mouth and Alec couldn't help but wonder if he felt bad at all that he'd been the one to wreck it. Alec hadn't even let himself think it in the endless hours he'd spent in the drunk tank. Now, as he looked at Jamie, searched his face for any semblance of the man he knew, he felt cowed, shrugging. His eyes fell to the ground because he suddenly felt a lot smaller than he had moments ago and he wasn't really sure what to do with that. “I dunno, I guess. Call in some favors, see if someone's got a couch to crash on while I figure it out.” He didn't really feel like now was the time to say he'd been hoping Jamie would help him out with that. It'd never been hard to talk to him before. Alec hated it. He squinted at Jamie, desperate to understand the divide. “Is everything alright?”

Jamie had been keen on leaving Greenbriar in the morning once he was jolted alive by the dawning horror of medical bills, but it had taken Johnnie until the afternoon to come pick him up from the town over.

“We can have a ski resort but forget a fucking hospital,” Jamie complained while picking at bandages on his arms. He rubbed at the prick in the crook of his elbow as if the mere sight of it sickened him. Apparently he’d been severely dehydrated, among other things. His head was still spinning but the fragments of memory he managed to pick out of the mess of his head were becoming increasingly urgent.

“Sounded like a good night to me,” Johnnie joked, chancing a look at Jamie as he shot him a glare.

“It’s another bill we didn’t need,” Jamie replied, brooding behind his cracked phone screen as he rifled through his contacts for someone to pull through. Alec’s bond hadn’t escaped him in the flurry of information and while Jamie had become accustomed to bailing out his family, he just didn’t have the funds for this when Christmas was just around the corner.

“You wouldn’t happen to have five hundred bucks on you, do you?”

Johnnie laughed. “How the fuck would I have that kind of money? Babe doesn’t run on canola oil, you know.”

Jamie breathed a sigh.

–

Johnnie dropped Jamie off at the Sheriff’s department before speeding off, leaving him there to deal with the fallout of Halloween evening. Thankfully, Sheriff Yoon had the same ideas, having left to interrogate people about what happened up at Black Bear Mountain and leaving him with the overworked deputy at the front.

“Mr. Dyer, didn’t expect to see you so soon,” the deputy said from behind the worn plexiglass. There was a dent at the bottom Jamie could recall John putting there when they were kids. It was great to know where all their taxes went.

“I’m here to pay bail for Alec Flynn,” Jamie said as he approached the desk, smacking an envelope of money on the glass. “I have cash.”

The deputy looked him up and down as if he were seeing him for the first time. Jamie furrowed his brow. “He’s my friend.”

The deputy scoffed and gestured for Jamie to slide the money under the slot. Jamie did just that and waited for the deputy to tell the guards to free Alec. When Alec made it out from the doors, Jamie met him with a dry look as he fell in beside him as he collected his things in a plastic bag.

“I had to borrow money to get you out,” he told him without looking at him. “Spent the whole night in the hospital too. I’m gonna have to figure a way to take more shifts at Marie’s if I’m planning on paying any of it back in this lifetime.”

 Jamie heaved a long suffering sigh as he fiddled with a box of cigarettes. He fed one into his mouth as they made their way outside, lighting it up and taking a drag before stopping to look at Alec. He looked like shit, remnants of last night’s party splattered all over him in the bags and dirty clothes. The greasy hair. At one point, Jamie found it charming. Right then, all he saw was debt.

“So, what are you going to do now?“ he asked, offering him a cigarette. "Your van’s busted.”

@alec-flynn​