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[flownhigher]

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Elizabeth Holland/ — Rebecca Hey, November/ — Egon Schiele, Four Trees (1917) / — Emma Shuman, November/ — E. C., November/— @honeytuesday / — Mary B. C. Slade, A November Day/ — Gustav Klimt, Birch Forest I (1902)/ — Ruby Archer, November/ — Edward Thomas, There's Nothing Like The Sun

[flownhigher]

Gene Tierney in Leaver Her to Heaven (1945) dir. John M. Stahl

[flownhigher]

—Chris Mc Geown

[flownhigher]

﹡          h，     fawn          .​ ​ ​​

       𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂  𝙰  𝙱𝙸𝚃  𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙲  .  actually  ,  that’s  an  understatement  .  eloise  is  very  dramatic  .  but  fawn  can’t  pretend  like  she  doesn’t  see  some  truth  in  her  words  .  her  teeth  sink  into  her  bottom  lip  as  she  watches  eloise  sketch  -  the  delicate  lines  of  her  fingers  clasping  the  pencil  so  harshly  she’s  worried  that  the  lead  will  snap  with  the  next  movement  .  “  well  ,  you’re  definitely  not  a  god  .  and  this  isn’t  a  game  either  .  so  we  just  have  to  figure  out  ways  to  …  deal  ,  “  not  the  best  pep  talk  but  fawn  isn’t  deterred  .  she  forces  a  smile  ,  reaching  her  hand  out  to  her  .  “  we’re  going  to  go  for  a  swim  .  and  then  for  a  walk  .  to  stop  thinking  about  everything  that’s  making  you  hold  a  pencil  like  a  knife  .  “ 

﹡         notepad   set   down,   eloise   twirls   the   pencil   through   her   fingers   once   —   twice,   for   show   before   tossing   it   aside.   she   deals   with   stress   poorly,   wringing   her   hands   together,   breaking   pencil   tips   on   the   soft   pads   destroyed   in   her   emotion.   fawn   has   a   much   healthier   way   of   avoidance,   one   that   doesn’t   involve   palms   being   pressed   into   or   the   soft,   elegant   toss   of   a   stuffed   animal.      “      fine.   we’ll   go   for   a   swim.      ”      eloise   would   rather   hold   her   pencil   like   a   knife   for   the   rest   of   the   day   (   it’ll   keep   people   away   from   her   ),   but   upsetting   fawn   seems   like   a   terrible   option.      “      we   have   to   stop   by   my   house,   all   my   bathing   suits   are   there   —   and   my   hiking   shoes.      ”

[flownhigher]

﹡          s，     elijah          .​ ​ ​​

❪                     talk?   about   what?   ⸺   it   was   the   simplest   of   questions   yet   somehow   elijah   found   himself   backed   into   a   corner.   it   was   his   own   fault   for   taking   matters   into   his   own   hands   after   being   instructed   to   stay   away   from   eloise.   he   never   considered   himself   to   be   impulsive,   jumping   head   first   into   any   sort   of   situation   without   assessing   the   potential   damages   it   may   bring.   elijah   felt   he   was   completely   out   of   his   element,   however,   not   knowing   what   was   wrong   or   right   in   a   situation   that   felt   like   the   end   of   the   world.   he   felt   almost   on   edge,   that   they   were   all   waiting   around   for   the   inevitable   doom   to   take   place,   but   were   all   delusional   to   believe   everyone   pulling   apart   would   save   themselves.   even   with   the   case   of   the   world   coming   to   an   end   weighing   heavy   on   elijah’s   shoulders   from   time   to   time,   there   was   still   so   much   the   two   half   -   siblings   had   to   discuss   before   they   went   their   own   ways   or   disappeared.   the   two   never   had   a   real   connection   as   cousins,   elijah   wondering   if   their   mother   kept   them   apart   with   the   purpose   of   a   vile   secret   staying   hidden   or   if   the   two   never   clicked,   ran   in   the   same   social   circle   to   notice   one   another.   the   past   wasn’t   how   the   present   was   and   it   wouldn’t   be   how   the   future   is   either.   the   two   are   siblings,   brother   and   sister   who   never   had   the   chance   to   bond   and   grow   together.   while   the   two   don’t   have   to   walk   into   the   sunset   as   the   best   found   family   trope,   he   wanted   nothing   more   than   to   clear   the   air.   “there’s   so   much   to   talk   about,   eloise.”   elijah   insisted,   almost   a   desperate   plea   to   his   tone.   “we’re   brother   and   sister   ⸺   “   he   was   quick   to   cringe,   immediately   lowering   his   voice   a   moment   later   in   case   any   other   faction   or   factionless   member   was   listening.   “   ⸺   we’re   siblings.   there’s   a   whole   bunch   of   history   we   didn’t   get   to   make   for   ourselves   and,   you   know,   i   didn’t   get   to   say   my   peace   either.”   he   fights   off   a   pout,   frowns   instead   at   his   younger   sister.   “i   get   it   you   want   me   gone.   i   get   it,   i   do,   but   we   ⸺   we   haven’t   even   scratched   the   surface   of   what   happened.”

﹡          she’s   spent   hours   tracing   the   roots   wrapped   around   her   ankles   and   crawling   up   her   arms,   fingers   following   wood   woven   into   blood   as   she   searches   for   an   origin.   for   twenty   one   years,   they   have   always   led   home   —   crawled   up   the   cobblestone   steps   and   leapt   into   the   arms   of   her   parents.   for   twenty   one   years,   she’s   smiled   for   family   portraits   and   signed   christmas   cards   with   a   needlepoint   in   the   back   of   her   neck   telling   her   that   these   aren’t   where   her   roots   lead   and   she’s   never   fought   back.   why   rip   the   blindfold   off   when   it   isn’t   hurting   her?   why   cut   her   fingers   on   silk   when   the   cloth   wasn’t   sharp?   she,   like   she   has   been   for   all   of   her   life,   was   complacent   in   her   roots,   letting   them   wrap   around   her   snugly   until   they   were   snug   around   her   throat,   choking   confrontation   past   her   lips   as   she   flung   poison   and   song   at   elijah   over   something   that   was   out   of   his   control.   brother   and   sister,   sister   and   brother,   roots   tied   together   to   an   ankle   that   tried   to   cut   her   off.       “      you   don’t   get   to   say   your   peace   to   me   —   ever,   okay?      ”      she   spends   hours   perfecting   herself,   patching   up   the   cracks   in   her   mask   and   fixing   up   every   fault   she   can   find   in   her   system.   eloise   is   supposed   to   be   good,   she   is   supposed   to   be   kind   and   benevolent,   a   girl   that   people   will   love   so   that   her   entire   family   will   be   loved   —   so   that   they   will   look   at   her   and   see   something   she   is   not.   if   she   is   not   who   they   want,   will   they   want   her?   her   real   mother   didn’t   want   her   and   she   was   the   first   one   to   see   her   truest   self.      “    we’re   siblings   because   of   our   fucking   mother   —   not   because   of   anything   else.   i   don’t   owe   you   anything   after   i   was   robbed   of   everything.      ”      this   is   her   truest   self,   after   all,   it   is   who   she   knows   best   —   claws   and   teeth   and   blood   and   cruelty.   is   this   what   their   mother   saw?   is   this   what   she   knows?   maybe   she   is   more   like   her   than   she   knows,   but   eloise   doesn’t   know   their   mother   at   all,   not   the   way   that   elijah   has   gotten   to   know   her.

[flownhigher]

𝐬𝐦𝐬   ˛    𝐣𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐡  ﹙ church ﹚

jebediah: actually

jebediah: the treehouse colony doesn't sound bad.

jebediah: at least you don't have to argue about jobs and rations.

jebediah: you've been holding this in since the start of this adventure?

jebediah: this must be zock level.

jebediah: what's going on? i'm sure i am not equipped or intellectually able to handle it but tell me anyways.

zacque: fine, i'd let you live in the treehouse colony with me. as long as you stay far, far, far, away from me on your side only and we never see each other.

zacque: but .... yea, if anyone finds out about It, my life is over. it's literally a zock level event.

zacque: you know, actually, nvm, it's not that big of a deal i think i'm overreacting haha.

zacque: anyway... sorry...

zacque: no it's a big deal, i think i might get cancelled.

[flownhigher]

﹡          h，     zane          .​ ​ ​​

“we’ll know the answer at some point. but not now. all in god’s time,” answers zane. this is bullshit, of course. the gasp he emits when she hands him the banana milk is not bullshit, on the other hand. “shit, thanks.” he’s grateful for it, sincerely. and maybe a little overwhelmed. “ah, i didn’t bring anything to give you….” he sounds genuinely upset, because he is. but he’s back on his bullshit soon enough: “this must be the test that god was talking about. well, maybe i should head back and find a gift for you, kind friend.”

﹡       eloise   hums,   unimpressed   with   his   answer   about   god,   but   she   fails   to   feign    surprise   or   disappointment   at   his   answer   —   she   isn’t   a   faithful   person   to   begin   with.      “      i   don’t   need   a   gift   in   return,   don’t   worry,   that’s   not   why   i   brought   you   some.      ”      she   wraps   her   hands   around   the   strap   of   her   backpack   and   tilts   her   head   at   him.      “      i   found   an   extra   case   in   the   basement   —   probably   left   over   from   my   mom’s   last   trip   to   the   store   —   i   figured   god’s   prophet   would   enjoy   it.      ”

[flownhigher]

𝐬𝐦𝐬   ˛    𝐣𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐡  ﹙ church ﹚

zackie: i think i have to come clean about something with you, jeb.

zackie: there's something i've been hiding from everybody for the past three months — ish — and i don't know ... i thought that it would make me feel a lot better at first but the more i hide it the more i feel like i'm just digging myself deeper into a hole that i'm not gonna be able to get out of and if i don't share it soon i think i might end up in the woods building a treehouse colony meant for only one person.

zackie: it's about my cousin — the one who came over to thanksgiving and got scratched by gertrude? u know, from the aunt who hates me and never comes over except for holidays like once a decade? anyway ...

[flownhigher]

With your permission, Mistress Anne, will you teach the King of England how they dance at the court of France?

[flownhigher]

﹡          d，     finnegan          .​ ​ ​​

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:  masons  pond  .

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂:  closed  for  @flownhigher​  .

𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙳  𝙱𝚈  …  bottom  of  the  river  by  delta  rae  .

             (   *      ──     𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃  𝐂𝐀𝐍  𝐁𝐄  𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐃  by  none  ,  domain  of  the  isolated  ──  indiscriminately  .  water  has  no  regard  for  loyalties  .  still  ,  after  the  latest  incident  ,  fin  feels  restless  .  their  faction  has  scraped  by  seemingly  unscathed  ,  no  member  accused  of  arson  and  no  resources  consumed  by  merciless  flame  ;  leader  feels  like  tensions  are  too  high  to  leave  even  neutral  territories  unobserved  .  it  seems  like  they  are  not  the  only  one  with  this  thought  in  mind  ──  there  is  already  a  figure  there  by  the  time  they  arrive  .  ❛  eloise  ,  ❜  finnegan  greets  ,  voice  unusually  neutral  for  someone  whose  kindness  is  known  among  west  &  new  ham  alike  .  warmth  ,  however  ,  is  not  extended  to  someone  whose  motives  they  constantly  find  themselves  doubting  .  ❛  here  for  a  dip  ?  ❜

﹡          her   gaze   latches   onto   them   before   they   see   her,   her   hopeful   vision   of   an   empty   pond   dissipating   into   thin   air   before   her   as   she   pockets   a   certain   vice   that   only   comes   with   isolation.   when   it   comes   to   power   and   leadership,   eloise   wants   none.   she   is   not   the   fiend   who   tore   her   way   up   from   a   shallow   grave   and   took   finnegan’s   spot   out   of   greed   and   hunger      —      eloise   is   so   much   more   than   just   a   girl   who   wants   control;   she   has   a   much   bigger   vision   than   that.   survival   is   weaved   into   the   fine   strands   of   her   hair,   latched   onto   the   tip   of   her   tongue   and   imprinted   into   her   fingertips    —   it   is   what   she   craves   most   in   new   ham.   and   when   she   sees   the   newly   ascended   leader   (   one   of   three   )   in   her   place   of   quiet   loneliness,   she   swallows   down   every   complaint   that   bubbles   up   her   throat.   she   may   not   crave   power,   but   respect   will   get   her   farther   than   disregard.      “      can   you   not   tell?      ”      a   bored   lilt   to   her   voice,   eloise   sarcastically   gestures   toward   her   attire.      “      the   swimming   skirt   is   all   the   rage,   these   days.   not   meant   to   weigh   you   down   at   all.      ”

[flownhigher]

[flownhigher]

﹡          r，     autumn          .​ ​ ​​

location: mcdermott drugstore availability: any!

survival  now  took  on  a  different  meaning  than  it  had  the  earlier  part  of  her  life.  everything  had  always  been  about  survival,  where  they  were  going  to  eat,  sleep,  how  they  were  going  to  get  to  school,  how  she  was  going  to  pay  for  college,  even  her  escape  plan.  survival  now  was  still  in  the  same  vein  with  the  same  issues,  just  a  different  set  of  skills.  she  needed  to  take  a  step  back  and  reevaluate  the  means  of  which  she  was  given,  the  means  of  which  they  were  all  fighting  for.  autumn  had  braced  the  walk  to  mcdermott,  having  turned  over  her  own  bottle  of  ibuprofen  and  turning  up  empty  handed.  maybe  it  was  the  weather,  or  the  migraine  headache,  or  the  last  town  meeting  they  had  attended,  but  her  mood  was  sour,  and  she’s  certain  the  look  on  her  face  said  it  all.  she  found  the  medication  she  was  looking  for  easily,  but  apparently  wasn’t  the  only  one  in  need  of  their  limited  supply.  “wait  don’t  tell  me,”  she  feigns  a  pout,  “you  partied  too  hard  the  last  time  we  tapped  into  the  town’s  alcohol  supply  and  you’re  truly  paying  the  price?”  

﹡          often,   in   the   old   world,   where   she   was   made   of   gold   and   marble,   eloise   would   label   herself   a   saint.   give   to   the   poor,   volunteer   for   the   needy,   whatever   would   make   her   look   best   and   now    . . .      now,   eloise   helps   the   wounded   and   feeds   the   faction   because   it   is   what   is   expected   of   her.   how   funny,   that   she   never   really   cared   about   anyone   but   herself   and   all   of   her   reputation   chasing   and   mongering   has   caught   up   to   her.   of   course,   eloise   would   help   the   needy,   she   always   has.    “      don’t.      ”      she   doesn’t   have   the   fight   in   her   to   argue   with   autumn,   instead   reaching   for   the   bottle   and   placing   it   in   the   other   girl’s   hands.   a   single   word,   and   eloise   turns   back   to   the   shelves   to   look   at   the   dwindling   supply   of   painkillers   and   ibuprofen.   the   health   center   is   as   stocked   as   it   can   be,   but   rationing   will   only   take   them   so   far.      “      would   it   be   smarter   to   empty   the   bottles?   start   rationing   them   out   in   twos?      ”      she   turns   to   autumn   with   a   stoic   glance.      “      therefore,   the   partiers   and   the   rats   can’t   walk   away   with,      ”      her   eyes   drop   to   the   bottle.      “      a   full   bottle?      ”

[flownhigher]

﹡          c，     vanessa          .​ ​ ​​

she  was  taught  to  share.  it  was  the  polite  thing  to  do  though  growing  up  so  wealthy,  it  felt  like  a  facade.  her  parents  definitely  didn’t  share  their  wealth  so  was  the  whole  aspect  of  ‘sharing  is  caring’  just  a  show?  the  liquor  store  had  already  been  thoroughly  raided,  she  was  one  of  the  first  few,  smart  enough  to  hide  the  most  expensive  of  tequilas  in  the  rafters.  only  just  now  going  to  retrieve  it.  to  say  that  vanessa  had  changed  a  lot  was  a  massive  understatement.  a  fallen  angel.  once  an  uptight,  popular  girl  who  had  the  world  at  her  fingertips.  now  she  was  rebellious,  closed  off,  meaner.  why  be  fake  anymore?  what  was  the  point.  a  soft  sigh  escaped  from  her  lips  as  she  took  a  sip,  “you’re  lucky  i’m  in  a  good  mood  today.  i’ll  share.”

please assume plots! basically she was your stereotypical super popular girl, on the cheer squad, dated the jocks, probably homecoming queen and now she’s like the complete opposite. a total 180! 

﹡          eloise   knows   her   well.   they   are   the   types   of   girls   to   know   each   other,   to   wave   at   the   townspeople   as   they   cross   the   street   with   their   arms   looped   through   one - another’s.   good   finds   good,   girl   finds   girl,   facade   meets   facade.   they’ve   both   changed   in   the   venomous   climate   of   this   dangerous   town,   shifted   into   who   they   need   to   be   to   survive   and   some   may   argue   that   this   —   who   they   are   now,   is   who   they   have   always   been.   wretched,   wicked,   changed,   morphed.   adaptation   is   a   skill,   eloise   says,   it’s   not   a   sin.      “      i   don’t   drink,   vanessa.      ”      it’s   impossible   to   miss   the   judgment   in   her   tone,   despite   the   cigarette   that   finds   itself   between   her   lips.      “      if   you’re   going   to   insist   on   getting   drunk,   do   it   by   yourself.      ”

[flownhigher]

﹡          b，     noelle          .​ ​ ​​

* OPEN. 

location: picnic area at west ham commons.

       fingers fumble with the current task at hand — sewing a lone button back onto her prized flannel shirt. admittedly, the shirt had seen better days but noelle clung to it like the fabric was imported silk, the item holding far too much sentimental value for her to toss it. her frustration builds as she tries to thread the needle, attention turning to the sun that was now directly in her line of sight. “ is it just me or are the days getting longer ? ” as each day transformed into the next, it seemed as though time seemed to drag on ( or maybe she was finally losing it ) . she laughs but it’s dry and bitter, shaking her head as she rolls the button between her fingers. “ you know, i rarely enjoy watching the sunset anymore … just means another long ass day is on its way. ”

﹡          they   have   found   separate   paths,   now,   chosen   to   walk   concrete   versus   dirt   in   a   way   that   should   have   torn   them   apart   but   eloise   wouldn’t   erase   the   lifetime   they’ve   had   together   for   even   the   sunset.   it’s   her,   indie   and   noelle   against   the   world,   even   if   they   wear   different   badges   and   align   themselves   on   opposite   lines.   eloise   takes   the   thread,   then   the   needle   from   noelle   with   a   ‘   tsk   ’.      “    they   feel   longer   because   our   responsibilities   are   no   longer   optional.      ”      she   doesn’t   sew,   but   it’s   a   skill   she’s   had   to   pick   up   in   this   place.   she   threads   it,   secures   it,   and   hands   it   back   to   the   blonde.      “      we   aren’t   doing   chores   because   we   have   to,   anymore.   we’re   doing   them   to   survive.   still,   babe      —      ”      eloise’s   legs   stretch   out,   toes   pointed.      “      take   a   break.   no   one   will   chew   your   head   off   if   you   take   a   day   to   yourself.      ”

[flownhigher]

Sophokles, from Elektra; translated by Anne Carson in An Oresteia

Text ID: I am already nothing. / I am already burning.

[flownhigher]

���          j，     minhyuk          .​ ​ ​​

 it  seems  as  though  ever  since  the  world  turned  upside  down  months  ago,  minhyuk  has  been  coming  to  terms  with  some  MAJOR  life  realizations.  whether  or  not  they’ll  serve  him  well  is  UNKNOWN  considering  there  is  no  expiration  date  on  …  whatever  the  hell  is  going  on.  what  minhyuk  does  know  is  that  he  SUDDENLY  has  ample  free  time  to  spend  as  he  pleases.  at  first,  the  ability  to  go  on  runs  around  town  or  go  to  the  library  for  some  reading  provided  minhyuk  with  a  desirable  amount  of  self  seclusion,  leaving  him  to  his  thoughts  and  the  ability  to  focus  on  either  his  labored  breaths  or  the  ticking  away  of  the  wall  clock.  it  took  minhyuk  some  time  before  realizing  that  before  now,  this  level  of  ISOLATION  never  existed  for  him.  pre-new  ham  consisted  of  soccer  practice,  studying,  and  spending  time  with  eloise.  a  consistent  trifecta  that  consumed  his  time.  minhyuk  remembers  that  whatever  free  time  he  had  it  was  spent  with  eloise  —  most  of  his  memories  held  a  shape  of  her  in  them.  and  while  he  would  HARDLY  consider  it  fully  negative,  minhyuk  would  be  lying  if  he  were  to  say  at  times  their  attachment  to  the  hip  didn’t  feel  stifling.  these  past  two  months  felt  as  though  he  could  truly  exhale  and  exist  as  his  own  entity  —  purely  minhyuk,  when  for  so  long  it  was  minhyuk  and  eloise.  even  so,  at  times,  his  solitude  feels  unusual  and  it’s  then  he  finds  himself  visiting  his  old  home  in  an  attempt  to  cling  to  the  old  sense  of  familiarity  from  his  life  before.  minhyuk’s  plan  is  to  tend  to  the  rose  bushes  that  are  his  father’s  pride  and  joy,  though  he’s  not  expecting  to  see  anyone,  let  alone  eloise.  he’s  not  sure  why  he’s  SURPRISED  when  she  willingly  calls  out  to  him  —  not  that  they  ended  on  bad  terms  to  avoid  each  other  so  fervently,  but  still.  minhyuk  approaches  the  porch,  eloise’s  confession  causing  his  lips  to  curl  upward  into  a  small  smile.  ❝  your  secret  is  safe  with  me.  though,  i’m  curious  what  a  faction  one  punishment  would  be  for  stealing  milk.  sitting  in  the  corner  with  a  dunce  hat  on  while  everyone  else  silently  judges  ??  ❞  he  shakes  his  head  before  stopping  in  front  of  eloise.  ❝  if  it’s  the  last  bowl  then  you  can  have  it.  that’s  always  been  your  favorite  brand  anyway.  ❞  minhyuk  pauses  after  his  words,  eyebrows  knitting  briefly  before  meeting  eloise’s  gaze  with  his  own.  ❝  i’m  pretty  sure  there’s  a  box  or  two  in  my  pantry  at  home  if  you  ever  want  them.  ❞

﹡          it   was   oft - repeated   advice   that   she   would   hear   regarding   her   relationship   with   minhyuk.   one﹕       keep   him   happy,   be   a   good   girlfriend   so   that   she   may   one   day   become   a   good   wife.   he   would   absolutely   be   who   she   would   marry   someday,   a   big   white   wedding   so   they   can   live   in   a   big   white   house   with   two   perfect   children.   the   other﹕       be   prepared   for   the   break   up,   because   high   school   sweethearts   don’t   last   forever   and   when   they   do   break   up,   it’ll   be   okay   to   feel   directionless   for   a   while.         (       AS   IF   her   life   revolves   around   her   relationship       )       when   they   returned   to   west   ham   and   peeled   off   of   the   stuffy   busses,   hands   still   clasped   together   as   they   realized   that   nobody   was   here   to   tell   them   no,   their   break   up   came   so   naturally   that   for   a   moment,   eloise   forgot   to   feel   devastated.   she   felt   more   like   she   could   breathe,   instead   of   feeling   like   her   world   was   imploding   in   on   itself.   a   lifetime   spent   together   and   for   the   first   time,   they   were   allowed   to   be   on   their   own,   eloise   wouldn’t   change   anything   she   did   if   she   woke   up   on   that   day   all   over   again.

a   laugh   falls   from   her   lips,   carried   by   the   wind   as   it   flies   softly   down   the   street.      “      the   dunce   hat   isn’t   that   bad,   actually,   it’s   the   parading   you   around   town   with   the   dunce   cap   that   might   be   a   little   bit   humiliating,      ”      she   jokes      —      people   often   told   her   too,   that   things   would   never   be   the   same   between   her   and   minhyuk.   in   her   opinion,   they’ve   never   been   better.   she   likes   them   both   a   lot   better   apart   than   together.   at   his   offer,   her   eyebrow   raises   with   another   spoonful   of   cereal.      “      am   i   still   allowed   in   your   house?   you   won’t   freak   and   report   me   for   trespassing   if   i   come   to   steal   and   hide   your   cereal?      ”

[flownhigher]

﹡          c，     sam          .​ ​ ​

     〳     his  intentions  were  earnest  and  callow  when  he  stepped  into  the  empty  library  on  evenings  like  this.   the  silence  reminded  them  of  days  spent  tucked  away  at  that  very  desk  they  were  perched  against,  one  leg  curved  atop  the  edge  while  the  other  dangled  to  the  floor  —  paresthesia  slowly  running  from  the  compressed  nerves  in  their  thigh  down  to  their  toes  like  a  billion  pins  and  needles.  he’d  contemplate  a  new  piece,  imagination  running  wild  with  the  sounds  of  instruments  filling  his  head,  pen  and  foot  tapping  with  anticipation  and  purpose.  on  this  night  though,  there  were  no  deadlines  to  meet  nor  a  desire  to  continue  exploring  their  passion.  on  this  night  there  was  just  sam  and  a  scathing  silence.  it  was  incredibly  coincidental  that  the  section  their  table  was  positioned  beside  was  filled  with  dozens  of  books  on  self - help.  their  eyes  would  shift  to  the  front  covers,  curious  but  with  obvious  rebuttal.  he  rose  to  browse  the  nearest  row,  fingers  tracing  the  spines  as  if  a  single  touch  could  draw  its  contents  into  his  mind  —  i  have  to  have  a  problem  to  find  a  solution,  sam  would  remind  himself,  then  move  on  to  the  next  book  and  repeat  the  cycle.       〳     that  familiar  squeak  of  the  door  echoes  in  the  distance,  breaking  his  compulsive  pattern  out  of  fear  of  being  uncovered,  and  his  quick  feet  guide  him  out  from  between  the  sections.  eloise.  that  was  who  their  eyes  met  after  coming  to  a  frantic  stop.  that  moment  of  fleeting  panic  was  countered  by  a  single  glance,  that  paresthesia  from  earlier  moves  from  their  leg  to  their  chest  but  this  time  they  welcomed  it  as  a  warmth  rather  than  a  discomfort.  she  apologizes  for  arriving  but  he  smiles  because  she  did  (  and  there  was  nobody  else  around  to  influence  his  behaviour  ).  “  hey  eloise,  ”  their  voice  meets  hers  but  in  a  slightly  more  cautious  tone,  their  worry  that  she’ll  turn  and  leave  overpowering  their  elation.  azure  hues  follow  the  movement  of  her  wrist  curiously  but  that  final  word  draws  them  back  to  hers.  “  arson  ?  jesus—  alright  say  less,  ”  sam  turns  on  their  heal  and  heads  in  the  direction  they  think  they  remember  some  sort  of  science  being.  it’s  safe  to  assume  the  reason  that  drove  her  to  seeking  out  that  type  of  information  but  truthfully,  sam  wasn’t  looking  to  engage  in  the  conversation.  playing  oblivious  was  his  goal.  small  goals,  small  successes.  “  how’ve  ‘ya  been?  if  you  don’t  mind  me  asking.  heard  your  group’s  full  of  nerds  so  …  i  can  only  imagine  how  boring  it  gets.  ”

﹡          she   can   name   on   one   hand   the   people   who   make   her   feel   at   ease.   the   edge   is   where   eloise   finds   herself   most   often,   teetering   on   the   thin   line   between   cliff   and   free   fall.   she   lives   here,   with   her   toes   just   over   the   edge   and   her   heels   digging   into   the   earth   behind   her   and   the   wind   in   her   ears,   her   hair,   her   eyes.   on   one   hand   alone,   she   can   name   the   people   that   are   allowed   to   pull   her   away   from   the   edge   and   into   the   comfort   of   the   dirt   and   grass   of   the   land   beneath   her   feet;   it   isn’t   many.   with   no   reason   except   for   who   haunts   her   most,   eloise   spends   every   second   of   every   minute   of   every   interaction   with   her   head   turned   over   her   shoulder   —   keeping   an   eye   for   the   wild   wolf   that   stalks   the   forest,   waiting   for   another   misstep,   claws   reaching   for   the   red   cape   that   keeps   her   tied   to   purity   and   perfection,   always   in   the   shadows,   always   between   the   trees.   one   mistake   and   she   can   fall   from   the   place   that   she   has   worked   so   hard   to   climb   to,   one   word   uttered   from   her   lips   and   her   life   can   be   ruined.   when   she   first   met   them,   eloise   barely   remembered   the   wolf   until   she   was   walking   away   from   them,   a   bounce   in   her   stride   and   a   wisp   of   a   smile   on   her   lips.   the   last   time   she   spoke   to   sam,   really   spoke   to   them,   she   could   recall   remembering   every   time   she   let   him   pull   her   away   from   the   edge   to   land   in   their   arms   or   in   the   sound   of   their   laughter   or   in   the   passion   of   their   music.   his   ability   to   make   her    —    relax    —    was   both   a   blessing   and   a   curse,   and   it   scared   her   more   than   it   did   comfort   her.

but,   still,   eloise   follows   him   into   the   rows   of   books   with   a   ghost   of   laugh   tracing   her   lips.   through   it   all,   it   —   whatever   it   is   —   still   feels   normal,   like   finding   a   book   about   arson   is   just   their   idea   of   fun       [   . . .   ]    like   eloise   is   dragging   them   to   the   library   again   while   minhyuk   has   practice.   her   stomach   churns   with   every   step   she   takes,   her   fingers   reaching   out   to   graze   the   spines   of   the   books   she   passes    —      finally,   eloise   allows   herself   to   laugh   softly.   though   the   rules   of   the   library   have   all   but   been   shed   in   the   new   world,   she   still   follows   the   suggestion   of   silence.      “      you   know,   by   proxy       —       that   makes   me   a   nerd.      ”      it   isn’t   an   insult,   not   from   him,   who   wears   it   with   more   light   than   malice.   she   turns   the   conversation,   avoiding   his   question   by   never   giving   him   an   answer.      “      but,   isn’t   that   how   you’ve   always   seen   me?      ”      her   hand   drops   by   her   side,   letting   her   eyes   follow   the   shape   of   their   back   before   she   forces   herself   to   get   distracted   by   the   titles   by   her   head.      “    besides,   we   can’t   all   be   as   dauntless   and   strong   as   you   ‘    fearless   few    ’      —      i   hope   you’re   doing   well   there,   sam.      ”