jolteonwrites - Tumblr blog

[jolteonwrites]

𝘑𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘈𝘓 𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘙𝘠 𝘖𝘍 𝘑𝘖𝘏𝘕 𝘖'𝘊𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘈𝘎𝘏𝘈𝘕, 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 35, 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 2023. a livingroom in new york city.

Never really had a sweetheart to come home to and I don't know why that would change now at 35. I've had little crushes before but that's not anything real. This didn't feel the same. I only ever heard those three little words from my family, or in a song... or from a girl I regret hurting every day. When she said it, all I felt was dread, remorse, regret... longing. But not for her.

When he said it, my heart leapt. And what does that mean? Wherever he goes, I follow. He's shown me every scar and let me kiss it, and to my surprise, I've done the same. He wasn't around for a month and it hurt so badly that I did not know how to contain it. It spilled out over me and I left a poisonous trail of it all over Arizona. Poisoned myself trying not to feel it.

Am I still acting as his friend? And how terrible would that be? This soft, delicate being who needs a friend more than anything and agreed to casual? I didn't realise I was the one with the warning signs. I don't know what this is but he needs a friend so I'll crush it down and just be what he needs.

[jolteonwrites]

𝘑𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘕𝘈𝘓 𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘙𝘠 𝘖𝘍 𝘑𝘖𝘏𝘕 𝘖'𝘊𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘈𝘎𝘏𝘈𝘕, 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 35, 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 2023. a livingroom in new york city.

I can be your punching bag.

Kick me, beat me, rip me all to pieces.

Take all that hurt and throw it in my face.

I'll be there. Bleeding, bruised, missing limbs.

I'll take all your hurt and I'll find someplace else to put it.

Let me be your punching bag.

I want to see you shine yellow again.

So wound me. Twist the knife. Slice the artery. I'll clean it up for you after. I'll find someplace else to put it.

When you're free, I'll be okay.

Don't mind the blood on my teeth when I smile. I'm finding someplace else to put it.

[jolteonwrites]

𝘐 𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘐𝘛 𝘘𝘜𝘐𝘛𝘚 𝘉𝘌𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘐 𝘓𝘖𝘚𝘌 𝘈 𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘕𝘋

John's been obsessed with a lot of things.

His music, his career, his regrets, his worries, his everlasting sadness, the substances that help him ignore it.

He's never been so obsessed with a person before. Something tangible and soft and warm to hold. Something that listens and talks back. Something good and gentle and kind. Something breakable. Something to help him ignore it all. That's what it was, really. Conversing with Joe kept him distracted. He was something to use up until he was empty, just like everything else John found to distract himself.

John didn't want to leave him empty, though. He wanted to give, give, give. He wanted Joe to have everything good, take all the goodness from himself, wherever it hid within, and give it to him instead. Until John was empty. He would rather that than hurt anybody else ever again.

And yet, he knows to carry on their conversations is to keep pushing the glass closer to the edge of the table. He knows this is dangerous, because no matter what he gives Joe, he is still using him somehow. He should be the one to stop it. He starts and he can't stop, but there's still time to pump the brakes on this before someone gets hurt.

It's a thought he sits in silence with every so often, fingers hovering over the name Joey Keery on his call list.

This has to stop.

He has to call it quits before he loses a friend. Another good, kind, gentle, breakable friend. The glass is hanging off the edge.

He hits call anyway.

[jolteonwrites]

𝘐𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘋𝘐𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘎, 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘕 𝘐'𝘔 𝘎𝘖𝘕𝘕𝘈 𝘓𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙

It starts in high school.

It usually does. John drinks at parties, tries it all. Beer, cider. Gets bolder, goes for vodka, whiskey, tequila. Some red wine that's somehow worse that all of those combined. He tries his first blunt at fifteen and he's never found sitting in a circle on the floor so funny before.

And that's all it is. He does it with his friends. It's normal. He's experimenting.

Then he goes to college. It's just the thing he's been expected to do. His mom is proud and his dad is pleased. John's just trying to get through it, wade in as deep as he dares to go and hopes the anxiety and wears off eventually. Maybe if he sticks it out long enough, he won't feel lost any more. Lightbulb moment. It doesn't come.

He's a lot more free here than at home. Doesn't have to cover up being wasted when he gets home at 3AM, or lie about a hangover. He can just be. So he drinks more. Every weekend, even. It's part of the college experience. He blacks out more times than he can count across two semesters. It helps him make friends. He doesn't rot in his dorm room if he's got some liquid confidence (he also doesn't make it to most lectures either, but his dad doesn't need to know that). He usually wakes up from it sick to his stomach and filled with dread, eyes heavy as he stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn't feel any less lost. The 'college experience' feels a lot like how John figures it feels to be jilted. Aren't these supposed to be the best years of his life? Why is he in a cold sweat about the future and all the stupid shit he said last night? He grips the sink until it doesn't feel like retribution any more.

I swear I'm not an alcoholic, I'm only nineteen. I've seen alcoholics and they don't look like me.

Being in a band opens a lot of doors, John finds. Behind those doors, there's usually people using drugs of some description.

He's not stupid; he knows the risks. Got all the talks about it at school. It's a shame, really, he thinks. How can something so awful be so wonderful?

He floats above his worries on uppers until his wax wings melt and he goes lower than he's ever been. It's hard to swim back up when he's so deep he can't see the surface. So he tries more, tests more limits, gets a different kind of high. Coke helps the most onstage when he's really worn out (van sleeping with four other boys and however many crew they can fit in the back doesn't make for the healthiest lifestyle).

He ends up digging a grave for some other lost soul this way. He almost climbs into his own in a hotel room in the dead of night a few months later but something stops him. Something like a ghost. He doesn't take any drugs for a while after that.

I swear I'm not an addict, I'm only twenty-three. I've seen addicts and they don't look like me. He's a number of years away from being a college drop-out now (and a disappointment to his dad), touring with his friends. It's a big, fancy bus and not a van and that feels like they've really made it.

He still can't talk to girls that well and still feels like he's making life up as he goes along, but maybe that's okay. He can sit in the feeling of being lost and be at peace with it. He's hurt himself a few times, hurt a few others a lot more. Took another knock every time because he didn't mean to do it and he doesn't know why he can't wise up a little bit.

It's okay though, because he has the best job in the world with his very best friends and that usually makes things feel okay again. He's got a bottle in his hand most nights on stage. Sometimes he loses his balance, just sings on the floor. Nobody says anything about it. Why would they? It's the lifestyle. He's still there, he's not blackout in a green room unable to perform.

The beer helps him sleep, anyway. He has a lot of trouble sleeping on the road. Anywhere that's not home, really. Beer usually knocks him out, as long as he drinks two or more. It's not always the most restful experience but at least he's not lying awake until it's almost time to get up again. Saves time if he drinks onstage for the good part, still has enough buzz to take photos with the kids, and then he can go to bed later with no trouble.

He only stares at his bunk ceiling for a few minutes before he nods off most nights, as long as he's drunk.

I swear I'm not an alcoholic, I'm only twenty-six. I've seen alcoholics, and they don't look like me.

John can't stop hurting everyone he knows.

He can't stop striking the match and letting it fall onto the gasoline; it torches everyone while he watches. It burns him around the edges, but he has to walk away mostly in one piece. Knowing.

When his friends can't keep up, he makes new ones. When the party inevitably ends, he gets an invite to another. He can't and won't sit in the pain if he doesn't have to, and he's not suicidal so it's okay. It's just a good time.

Everyone thinks he's better now so he can make that true, as long as he doesn't think about anything he's ever done. Whenever he hits the bottom, he sees her face. A blur above the surface, someone that he would call. But he doesn't. There's nobody left to call. Who could want this?

He's sick in the mornings and he doesn't dwell on thoughts of her, or he'd start too early in the day. She burns up in his mind. He didn't mean to devastate her life more than a man before him already had. Nineteen's so far away, but he's still looking at a boy in the mirror who doesn't know where to go. His knuckles turn white on the rim of the sink, and he thinks he might smash the glass to pieces if he weren't so scared of blood.

I think I might be an addict and I'm almost thirty-three. I've met so many addicts and they all look like me.

[jolteonwrites]

journal entry of john o'callaghan, aged 23, circa 2012. several days before the events of 24 floors.

will someone just come and take my heart? set it down in front of moving cars.

It would hurt less.

I see my life in flashes and phases. Happiness, sadness, disappointment, loneliness, excitement, fear, shame. The joyful moments are so fleeting but the sadness stretches on forever, reaching an eternity that fills me with guilty, awful dread. I know I should feel grateful. My life has worked out so magically special, I have the best job in the world. I am grateful for this, I am.

Why isn't it enough?

My family loves me. I tour the world with my best friends. We have fans across oceans. Some of them don't even speak much English. They adore what we create anyway. Music transcends all barriers.

And it's not enough to break this curse attached to me. The joy is temporary, the sadness is everlasting.

It might be my own fault.

I seem to carry death with me in my pocket.

I know it's there because it's very heavy and it gives my soul a dull, constant ache to drag it wherever I go.

Life is not how I thought it would be as a child. And that is not to say it's not a magical gift every day, to be here, to feel, to be. It's mostly pensive and blurs together. But when it's painful, it rakes through like the most jagged blade, slow and deliberate and forceful and so fucking terrible.

And it's lonely.

Oh my God, it's fucking lonely.

I want to be okay with alone but I yearn and it takes up a space in my throat and I can't speak.

I'm not sure my friends 'get' it. Their brains don't work the same. When I find someone that does... they don't stay for long.

What does that mean? I think it was my fault.

I think it was all my fault.

Who am I? Where am I going?

I think I've been asking the wrong questions my whole life. And my pockets are heavy.

This life feels like a living death.

I don't think I want to be here any more.

[jolteonwrites]

I think I love him.

I think this could be it for me. 

Is that insane? Am I losing it? I know I can be too impulsive. I mean, look what got me here, in Arizona. 

But look what got me here. 

We’ve run in the same circles for years. We’ve known one another. Then touched, fucked, maybe got a little too close. Maybe he became a little too safe. But we could still fuck and forget and it was alright. 

Now, though... now I just know him and see how we fit, see how he looks at me, kisses me, stands behind me when I feel like I’m gonna fall. My skin to his skin makes me feel like I’m on the ceiling every single time. It’s never been this way. 

I can’t remember how it used to feel... before this? 

I can’t remember how it felt to be fingers intwined inside anyone else. 

I really think this could be it for me. Forever for me. 

I’ve started feeling it lately. Wanting to hear myself saying it softly in his ear at the end of the day. Or during the pillowtalk when his chest is filling and falling so fast it strokes my ego. 

Feeling like saying it, or at least thanking his mother. She birthed an art museum, brain and body. 

To touch feels against the rules. Like I’ll be dragged away kicking and screaming, begging for one more minute in his presence. 

I touch anyway. It’s magic and worth the risk. 

I think it’s forever for me. 

I’m going to tell him tonight. 

I’m going to take his face in my hands. I’ll take his body under mine, over mine, whatever he wants. Any way he wants, anything he wants. I’ll hold him and make sure he feels it. 

I’m going to tell him tonight. 

[jolteonwrites]

and that's the thing about illicit affairs... 

Coming here was not a good idea. Why did coming here ever sound like a good idea? 

Well, he knew why. It just seemed like fun, and he needed fun. And Gabe was there. But that was not a factor, because he was ignoring Gabe. 

Only, he wasn’t ignoring Gabe. Obviously. Out of the three dozen people on this trip, Joel knew he could hang out with literally anyone else. Anyone. Anyone at all. Just pick one. 

And yet, in the yard of one of two beachside vacation properties they were all staying in, surrounded by fourteen others... Joel could only look at Gabe. 

He was on the other side of the firepit. He wasn’t wearing anything spectacular; a plain white v-neck t-shirt and tight black pants not unlike Joel’s, with a flashy watch and a belt that looked plain but probably cost a ridiculous amount of money. He was just... normal. But Joel didn’t see normal. He saw the bareness of Gabe’s chest at the deepest point of the ‘v’ because he probably got waxed before the vacation. He saw the glisten of Gabe’s lips in the firelight from where he had just wet them with his drink. He saw the crease in Gabe’s pants around his crotch that— no, don’t go there. Joel averted his eyes back to his wine glass, trying to tune into the conversations of the people sitting closest to him so that maybe he could segue into whatever they were discussing. 

Just as he was about to make a lame comment to piggyback into Alex and Jack’s conversation about the best technique to win at beer pong, a body dropped down into the empty seat next to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Joel jumped, narrowly missing spilling wine onto his pants — at least it was white. 

“You’re looking appropriately slutty this evening,” Halvo grinned, already drunk and lightly stroking Joel’s hair behind his ear for him. 

“Slutty?” Joel asked incredulously, looking down at his outfit. 

“Indeed,” Halvo nodded seriously, poking Joel’s chest. “Your buttons’re undone halfway down your shirt and your pants are tighter on your peachy little ass than I’ve ever seen them. 

Joel bit back the urge to tell Halvo how much he sounded like Gabe. “I... yeah, I guess I wanted to look a little sexy. It’s a vacation, isn’t it?” he decided, touching the silver rose necklace hanging down over his chest, where his shirt could have been buttoned, but he had made a definite choice not to.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way! You do look a little sexy. A lot sexy. You should hook up with someone. We’re here for another three weeks! Get loosey goosey, baby.” 

Halvo punctuated his mini pep talk by smacking a kiss to Joel’s temple and then stumbling away the direction from whence he came. Joel smiled, eyes lightly scanning around the firepit once more... and this time catching Gabe’s. The intensity of which he was looking caught Joel’s breath in his throat, and like he knew, Gabe’s gaze drifted down, as if he were taking in all the details too. Or, perhaps, taking them off. They locked eyes again only for a second before Gabe decided to get up and leave, going back inside the house. 

Joel had to remind himself he could breathe. 

+ + + 

After midnight, everyone was fucked. 

Joel had decided not to get ‘loosey goosey’ as Halvo had advised, because ‘loosey goosey’ surely meant bad decisions, so he kept it to a couple of glasses of wine. He felt a little buzzed, but still in full control. 

Yes, still in full control. 

So he really had no excuses for approaching Gabriel. 

“Thought we were staying away from each other,” Gabe spoke before Joel had even reached his little corner of the lounge.

“You’re the only sober one left to talk to,” Joel shrugged, gesturing to the room of noisy inebriated musicians. “I’m bored.” 

“You’re bored.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And I’m the only one left to talk to.” 

Joel hesitated, only for a second, before his fingertips brushed Gabe’s. “You’re the only one I want to talk to.” 

Watching Gabe’s throat move as he swallowed made Joel feel drunker than anyone in the house.  

+ + +

Between the music, the size of the house, the lack of sobriety in their fellow vacationers... they didn’t really need to be quiet. But trying to be made it hotter. 

Gabe smelled like Métallique and fire smoke from outside. Joel could only tighten his legs around his body trying to breathe it deeper. Gabe’s lips dragging against his earlobe while he gasped and muttered was the most deeply erotic part of it all. 

“Fue todo lo que pude hacer para no cruzar el fuego hacia ti, mi amante. Te ves más y más impresionante cada día. Planeo arruinarte en cada centímetro de esta casa.”

Joel could only pick up a word here and there, but maybe that was a good thing. It would be over too quickly if he could understand everything. He pressed his toes against the back of Gabe’s thighs to try and slow him down... just a little longer. 

They did what they could to muffle when they came, Gabriel’s face buried in Joel’s hair, and Joel’s mouth full of Gabriel’s fingers.

+ + + 

“I know... Sí, that’s everyone going to bed now... Sí, including me... I know, I will call you tomorrow, hermosa... I’m glad you had a good day. You should read your book and get some sleep, hermosa. I love you too.” 

Joel listened as Gabriel hung up the phone and plugged it in to charge. He settled down into the bed, rolling over to tuck himself against Joel’s back and rest a hand over his stomach. Joel would have done anything just a couple of hours ago for Gabe to be touching him like this. 

But now he felt separated — staring across a fire. 

it dies and it dies and it dies, a million little times. 

[jolteonwrites]

JOURNAL ENTRY OF JOEL KANITZ, DATED 22ND JAN. 2018

Arizona always has been and always will be a healer for me. I feel relieved in the knowledge that my church has not changed and that I continue to connect with God the most here, where so much of my songwriting blossomed. 

A common analogy, but I feel like a blind man regaining his sight. Not gradually, but suddenly. Or rather... perhaps more like when I’ve had to be mute for the sake of saving my voice for weeks at a time, and then I can finally speak and sing and shout again. It’s an epiphany, really. 

Leaving LA was both a blessing and a curse, but I’m trying to think of it more as the former. A necessary evil, I suppose, and hopefully one I never have to repeat. I miss Mat so much that it aches, physically aches, right down to my bones. But this time apart has been more beneficial than any before... I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was the comfort of my homeland and church after one of the most stressful and upsetting periods of my life, or the fact that finally recording more of my music has made me feel so much more alive... or perhaps because I feel as though this therapist is really getting through to me. 

Falyn suggested her to me, actually. And I’m surprised I was able to be so comfortable... I didn’t think I would feel that way with a female therapist, yet... it’s working. She just has a certain vibe. She’s a little older, but she’s just different. I like her, I would say I like her even better than our sex therapist. 

Regardless, I had this epiphany in her presence today. It was our fourth session, and I delved into my relationship with Mat in depth for the first time. I ran through all the struggles we’ve overcome, the struggles that still seem to plague us, and that I had real, true fears we wouldn’t make it another year down to my actions. Rather than pressing on more of that, she changed the topic to my relationships prior to Mat, and it sort of hit me without much prompting. 

I’m not sure how I didn’t see it before. 

I got so good at taking care of myself, at being by myself... at just enjoying life by myself. A single man, no relationships, no dates, no casual sex. I was just me. I was content. I’d made my peace with it. I’d been cheated on a second time and I was done for good -- no more chances. I’d had mine. I just wanted to be alone, because I was good at it. 

And then Mat just sort of tumbled back into my life. He messaged me unexpectedly and... that was that. We couldn’t stay away from one another, even when the sex felt wrong. For a short while, we stopped sleeping together, and I thought that it might be over. The thought was crushing. I loved him. It was inevitable for us to get together, though. Our relationship was so... quick, it felt like. We skipped all traditional dating. We had a lot of sex, cared for each other as friends, as lovers. Mat got on a plane all to ask me to be his. And even then, knowing I loved him, it caught me off guard. I hesitated. I put it down to feeling surprised, which I was. I had only expected him to arrive for sex, not anything else. 

But I understand it fully now. In the back of my mind, alone has always been better. Alone is safer, more stable, more predictable. 

From the day I lost my first love, I was training myself (without realising) to be an expert at life unaided. I wouldn’t need to invite anyone else in if I could take care of myself, my career, my home, my pets... all without a person by my side. If I ever needed a little help, I could look to God for support. And I still had family, and friends. Why did I need a wife, or husband, if I was sufficient enough to cope by myself? 

Someone broke something inside of me a long time ago, and I was scared. My world had to revolve around me. That was the only way I could keep it together. I wanted to hide. I didn’t want people to know me. 

Mat knows so many of those broken pieces. I think he’s even put a couple of them back together. I wouldn’t have been able to do that on my own. I see that now, and it is so overwhelming to think that this could be a big part of where we’re going wrong. 

I was naive to think I could go from my solitary life into one of partnership in one leap. Mat and I were inseparable, even when we lived apart... it was hard to stay away. Always texting, always calling, always coming over.

I drowned myself in him. I love him so much, but it was too much too fast. I know that now. I need to give myself space, to remember that it’s okay to take some time apart and just be with myself. I hate that we’re in different states right now. I want to be able to hear him down the hall when we’re apart, or know that he’s just a brief car ride away. Time apart needs to be different, because missing him right now... I can barely think of anything else. 

I want to be holding him in the tightest hug, kissing his whole face for hours, breathing nothing but the scent of his skin and sweat. I missed him before but this is different. I understand myself more. I can understand him more. And we’re gonna be okay. That thought alone... I can’t stop myself from crying. 

God was right to send me on my way one last time. I never want to be away from Mat like this again. I just understand now. The relief of that knowledge alone... I just can’t stop thinking about it. It’s lifted a weight I didn’t know was there. I feel like I could float home. I need to tell him all of this, to his face. I’m so excited that I haven’t been able to sit still since I got home from the therapy session. I’m not supposed to go home for another four days, there’s still a few things to finalise before I leave but... I don’t know if I can wait that long. I don’t want to talk to him if it’s not about this, and I can’t wait four days to talk to him, to tell him. We’re going to be fine. We really are. I just can’t stop thinking about how incredible it is to have unlocked this part of myself that I didn’t even realise I needed to unlock. 

I feel like a completely new man. I genuinely feel better than I have in... years. Truly, years. 

I can’t wait four days. I need to hold Mat and tell him that only he could have done this -- made me the best man I could possibly be. I wouldn’t have done this alone. I’ve never felt love, and gentleness, and selflessness, and just pure joy like this from anyone but Mat. 

I’m going to call Pat and see if he can help me out. If there’s a plane I can get sooner than four damn days away, then I am going to be on it. 

My heart might burst from my chest at any moment. My teeth are chattering. There’s so much I have to say to him... I need him to know he’s the love of my life. I would hope he already knows, but I can’t not say it. He has to know again. He’s the love of my life and I have to tell him that I want to die someday having lived the most incredible, fulfilled, beautiful life with him, still calling him the love of my life until my very last breath. 

Perhaps being alone for a while was the right choice at the time. Maybe I needed that. But letting Mat in was the best choice I ever made, and I’m not going to let that slip away. 

I’m coming, Mat. 

Oh God, how I love you. 

[jolteonwrites]

ASHLEY ‘HALSEY’ NICOLETTE FRANGIPANE

introducing a secret-specific biography in the life of ashley. 

ashley has had her fair share of struggles in her short life so far. from a difficult home life, to drug use, to older men, to toxic relationships, to a miscarriage, to severe illness both mental and physical… she hasn’t had it easy.

she’s gotten good at handling it, though. she knows how to ride the wave. and she prefers to be open about it, to allow her fans into her world so that perhaps they feel a little less alone if they happen to be struggling with some of the same.

but there are things ashley doesn’t share. she doesn’t delve into the deep, personal details of some of these things. there are some things people just don’t need to know.

she has a deep-rooted fear that she’s a little too much like her father, for example.

now, ashley loves her father. he’s a good man at heart. he and her mother built a family from the ground up when they were just kids themselves, but he’s not perfect. it’s no secret to the family and anyone close to them that chris frangipane has a temper, sometimes one he expresses physically. he would never take it out on his wife or children, ever, but he’d been known to smash a plate or punch a wall or slam a door so hard it broke. just a few times.

ashley has always had a fierce attitude and a strong need to protect those she loves, but it’s only in recent years that she started to notice some of her father’s traits in herself. she gets angry so easily; her short fuse has accounted for many relationship fights over the years, and part of her worries that maybe this hereditary temper she has caused her love life to be the train wreck that it is. maybe if she was just a little calmer, a little more in control… then things wouldn’t be like this. there wouldn’t be a trail of pieces of broken hearts behind her, some of them her own. but try as she might… she can’t really keep this temper in check. she can still fly off the handle at the slightest thing that irks her or causes pain to her friends. she’s much more of a ‘do now, think later’ kind of person. not even her medication for her bipolar changes that.

she also keeps it to herself that she uses sex as a comfort and a cover-up for real pain going on in her life. sleeping around, to ashley, has the same effect as a calming bubble bath has to others at the end of a long work day. it’s at the point where it would be considered a nominal sex addiction – not bad enough to hinder her everyday life but certainly bad enough that it’s a problem when she uses it to escape and run from her struggles. but, it’s not actually something she realises. to ashley, her somewhat promiscuous antics are perfectly healthy. after all, she’s always safe about it, so what’s the problem, right?

[jolteonwrites]

REEVE ANTHONY POWERS

introducing a secret-specific biography in the life of reeve.

Reeve cares deeply for his family, specifically his brothers. He has great love for his former bandmates and those in the 8123 family. But one of his biggest motivators is the desire to do more with himself. He toured the world in his old band in one short year and he desperately wants to do that again; he wants to not have to scrape by month to month. He’s released a poetry book and demos from his bedroom as a solo artist recently and he’s eager to save up to buy better gear and make more of himself.

Reeve isn’t very well-off. His previous band, Beach Weather, were pretty much broke, but now he’s going solo. His job at home doesn’t make him a great deal of money either, and he often sells his clothes on Depop if he’s struggling to make rent.

However, in high school, while Reeve wasn’t especially gifted or focused on a lot of subjects, he did really enjoy computing. He was very good when it came to coding and started self-teaching in his room at home. This got him involved in learning all sorts of additional computer skills – he got incredibly good at hacking. At first, it was just a couple of people showing him how to do it, and he practiced and got better at it out of nosiness. He would check up on classmates or hack his friends’ accounts for fun. But slowly, he got better at it, and when a female friend asked if he could hack her boyfriend’s Facebook and Instagram accounts because she had suspicions he was cheating… Reeve decided to take on the challenge. Using his power for good and all that. As it turned out, her boyfriend was cheating, and though furious, she gave Reeve $50 for confirming it for her. It gave him the twisted idea that he could do this all the time. Make a little extra cash by hacking into people’s accounts. He honed his skills and got good at hacking apps like Snapchat and Tinder too. He puts this to good use when he’s short on cash, or sometimes just plain bored.

Sometimes it backfires on him though. While he would never tell anyone he makes money hacking people’s private accounts, knowing he could get into serious trouble for it, it’s also a curse that he can’t tell anyone.

While hacking someone’s account (a friend of a friend; someone’s roommate who wasn’t paying rent and they wanted to know if they had any intentions to do so/were dodging paying it deliberately), he discovered they’d apparently been looking into kidnapping their child. They’d been chatting with a friend about how to get the child away from the mother, apparently the hack victim’s ex, by picking them up from pre-school before she gets there, and going straight to the airport to start a new life. Reeve chose to ignore it – it wasn’t his business. But he read on a local news article days later that the child had been reported missing and that people had spotted him with his father in the airport on CCTV. At the time, they’d still been looking into finding where they went. The mother was distraught, as apparently she had sole custody on account of the man being an unfit father, verbally abusive, and a drunk to boot. Reeve never saw anything else pertaining to the case but he feels guilty knowing the kid could be growing up with a dead-beat dad, never seeing his mom again.  

Reeve was arrested as a teenager, aged fifteen, to be exact. It was his summer off from school and he’d spent most of it feeling angry – a close friend of his had deliberately seduced the girl Reeve had a crush on despite knowing how strong his feelings were. He didn’t understand why his own friend would screw him over like that, and he was finding the developmental age he was at to be struggle enough as it was.

He finally plucked up the courage to tell the girl how he felt anyway, hoping it would make a different and maybe she’d pick him, but she said that she and the friend were dating.

Enraged all over again, Reeve made a choice to go to his friend’s house that night. This friend spent a lot of his time in a summerhouse at the end of his spacious yard. It was some distance from the house and hidden mostly by trees, hence why his friend preferred to hang out there with his classmates rather than in his room under the watchful eye of his parents. Reeve had hung out in this summerhouse enough times to know that his friend kept things in there – his bike, his guitar, his video games. Hurt and unsure how to channel out the bad energy, he set the summerhouse alight and made a run for it.

The whole thing went up in flames alongside everything in it, but Reeve didn’t feel relieved that he’d done it. He just felt guilty. He was never caught; his friend’s family assumed it had been this other boy in their class at school. A troublemaker that had picked on their son for years. Of course, there was no evidence to suggest it was him, but most of the surrounding neighbourhoods made their assumptions too, and just decided it must’ve been him. Reeve didn’t talk much to his friend after that, still hurt about what he’d done in regards to the girl, but also out of guilt. It seemed even he believed that the troublemaker kid was responsible for the fire, though.

Reeve thought about coming clean a few times over the years. Sure, the other guy was kind of a bully, but he didn’t necessarily deserve to be an outcast over a crime he didn’t commit. Even Reeve knew that setting a building alight over a lost crush was a little excessive, but he hadn’t been thinking all that clearly at the time. But, then, they graduated high school, and Reeve never had to see these people again – what was the point in coming clean?

Now that he’s trying to make it in the music business, he’d be mortified if the real story was ever somehow discovered. People might brand him crazy or dangerous and ruin his chances of getting signed or touring. He’s told a select couple of friends about the incident, more just to make himself feel better than anything else, but it’s not something he feels he could share with the general public.

Besides, what would his family think? His old high school friends, his entire hometown? He still lived around the same area he grew up. He couldn’t let this get out.

[jolteonwrites]

NICHOLAS BERNARD SANTINO

introducing a secret-specific biography in the life of nick.

nick met his childhood sweetheart when he was sixteen, and it was happily ever after from there on out.

well, until he started gaining success as the frontman of a rocket to the moon, formed in 2006, when he was just eighteen. his two previous bands, the bad year and the midway class, hadn’t amounted to anything. a rocket to the moon was nothing more than an experiment at first, until it suddenly became so much more. they started gaining real success in 2008, which meant a lot more travelling. a lot more time away from his girlfriend. a lot more opportunity within the ‘sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll’ kind of lifestyle that a handful of his fellow musicians were leading. nick had the drugs part down – he wasn’t shy to experiment. that experimentation soon extended to people, too.

with his girlfriend at home and all the chances in the world to get high and have sex with people he never would’ve before… nick took them.

he’d only ever been with one woman. one person, his entire life. and their sex life was great. but these other people, these new people… it was amazing. things he’d never tried, feelings he’d never felt. the urge would get to him and he’d sleep with someone new.

but every single time, she took him back. it bothered her that he got high off more than just marijuana, too, but she kept giving him chances.

eventually, they did break up briefly after nick had a full blown affair with another woman in the industry. but a very long apology in the form of music later, they were back together. nick managed to kick the habit for a while. made an honest man of himself for a couple of years. decided he wanted to marry this girl, so he proposed. for a few months, life was bliss… and then he cheated again.

this was the final straw, the one she absolutely couldn’t forgive or make room to forget. after years of being on/off, growing up together, it was finally over. nick thought maybe it was better that he was single now, but he just felt lost.

it was this loss that probably resulted in the destruction of his newest band, beach weather. locked away in a cabin writing what should’ve been their debut album, nick felt that itch. that need to experience something new. maybe beach weather had run its course. the niggle stayed there in his system, and he knew his bandmates felt it too. but one particular night, before they’d really had a chance to talk it out, nick got high. and it just seemed like a spectacular plan to destroy all their hard work. he just wanted the freedom to do something else, but in his drug-addled state, erasing it all without consulting his bandmates seemed like the best way to make a clean slate. so he destroyed everything, and inevitably in the morning, there was a huge fight.

they all parted on good terms. they were still friends. but it wasn’t quite the same. nick couldn’t really remember what pushed him to do it. to just ruin months of hard work, even if the world was never going to hear it anyway. he didn’t need to get rid of it all.

ever since, nick removed his presence from social media. he was almost thirty and felt like he needed to find himself again, not just musically, but personally. he was single, really totally single, for the first time since he was a teenager, and he felt lost creatively too.

he’d done a terrible thing to his ex-fiancee and his bandmates, and he just wanted to redeem himself in his own eyes again.

it would be a long journey to make that happen, though.

[jolteonwrites]

AWSTEN CONSTANTINE KNIGHT 

introducing a biography in the life of awsten. 

awsten has always been an intelligent boy. despite struggles of depression and anxiety that would weigh heavy in his chest as he entered adolescence, it never stopped his motivation and passion to live a full life. 

at aged nineteen, awsten began to seriously write and record his own songs, forming the band waterparks. he was attending college when he made the decision to drop out and pursue this band full-time. this was a decision that he crafted carefully – he’d been writing and recording on his own for some time, honing his skills as best he could with what was available to him. going to college was the smart choice. but once he had his band together and they were making music that actually sounded good… that became his primary goal, and he was determined that they be a success story. so he dropped out, and thankfully his parents didn’t kill him for it. though somewhat disappointed, his parents were actually very supportive of the decision and thankfully continued to support him in the years that followed. 

despite being a loving boy at heart, awsten struggled with bitterness and anger often. he usually found himself wondering if this was his depression talking or if he really did have issues with his temper. 

he got into his first real relationship in 2011, and it lasted until 2015, the reason being many things but grace mostly felt as if they had outgrown each other and that she wasn’t appreciated enough in the relationship. at first, however, they stayed friends. but then she made the decision to date one of his close friends… and the drummer of his band, otto wood. at this point, awsten knew the friendship had soured. he had some choice words for her before cutting all contact they had. he erased their relationship in every way that he could – pictures thrown away, number deleted from his phone, unfollowing and blocking her on social media. he didn’t want anything to do with her after that. it was tough at times considering she was dating his best friend and colleague, but he felt like he was stronger for making that decision rather than pining over her and growing bitter about the new relationship.

it left a scar on awsten’s ability to trust and while he couldn’t forgive his ex, he was able to forgive his bandmate for the sake of their careers and all they’d been through together. 

after awsten split with grace, he began crushing on a new friend, an actress named ciara hanna, to the point of obsession. she didn’t return his feelings, partially due to being very on/off with a long-time boyfriend of her own already, but she did know about them and tried to tread carefully with awsten without ruining their friendship. however, awsten continued to cling to the idea they might get together to the point that it was unhealthy for him and he had to disentangle himself from the girl, despite valuing her deeply as a friend by that point. he has felt somewhat off-kilter ever since and can’t seem to settle into being single after only ever experiencing long-term relationships, even when he first started dating as a young teen. ever since he couldn’t win over that friend, it’s made him wonder if a large chunk of his self-worth is rooted in whether or not he’s dating somebody.

he tried to take some time to himself and figure out who he was outside of a relationship, but he just feels lost without a partner, and one-night stands were never really his thing so he’s not sure where to turn. he’s beginning to feel like he might work so hard and have such tunnel vision on his goals not only for the sake of determination, but because he feels somewhat worthless otherwise (despite having other talents and doing well back in school). a relationship was also something he could work hard at, so not being in one feels like it’s chipped away a part of him he’d gotten so used to. 

a choice that awsten makes almost every day, is to try and be happier. he spent a lot of his youth feeling angry and resentful, and still struggles with feelings like that now, but the difference is he consistently reminds himself to try and be more positive and make healthier decisions – both for his mental and physical well-being. he believes it’s helping to shape him into a better man as each day passes. 

awsten is also bisexual, something he came to terms with in high school but didn’t experiment with it until his short time in college. he secretly dated another boy for several weeks before they broke it off, but awsten knew he would definitely be interested in dating a man again at some point, if such feelings for one arose, and he came out to his family not long after. they were very accepting of him, something awsten was grateful for.

despite nowadays trying to be a positive and less angry person, particularly now that his dream of having waterparks get big is starting to come true with their debut album out, awsten still experiences episodes of anxiety and depression, and finds it difficult to stick to the routine he’s set himself (sleeping at certain times, exercising, healthy eating at the same times every day). 

he’s also been finding his bouts of anger come more frequently, and he’s not sure, because for the most part, he’s very happy at this point in his life. but he finds himself getting worked up into a rage over silly things and it’s hard to keep a lid on that. 

he finds it rather funny that the cool blue and silver shades of his hair do not often reflect his personality. 

[jolteonwrites]

ASHLEY ‘HALSEY’ NICOLETTE FRANGIPANE 

introducing a biography in the life of ashley. 

you were a wild child in training from the moment you were born. your mother, nicole, and your father, chris, of italian and african-american descent respectively, had you very young. they were just kids themselves, and had no idea just how big this bundle of energy they were bringing into the world would be. 

you would go on to learn to play a multitude of instruments, be involved in your high school theatre groups, get involved in your high school’s magazine editing, and be a talented artist. you’d begin posting cover songs on youtube. at aged seventeen, you’d start writing your own songs. 

but while all this sounds very impressive, you struggle. at seventeen, you’re diagnosed with bipolar disorder following a suicide attempt, something that will shape you and affect you deeply as you grow into a young woman. towards the end of high school, you break up with your boyfriend, which was probably for the better. he would’ve been no good for you. couldn’t see your talent. 

after graduating high school, things would begin to go downhill for you. you’d enter a relationship with a young man addicted to heroin, and as a result, begind using various drugs recreationally yourself. you’d attend a community college after being unable to afford to attend your choice school, rhode island school of design. however, your hectic behaviour and drug use will cause you to drop out. tensions have been rising at home thanks to this, and it reaches boiling point when you drop out. following a huge fight with your parents, you decide to leave home of your own accord, and you’re homeless from there on out. you’d couch-surf or stay in a basement with several ‘degenerate stoner’ friends whom you met through your boyfriend, making just enough money to get by via playing acoustic shows wherever you could, before finally being taken in by your grandmother. you still party, and it’s at one of these parties that you meet a producer and write the song that will rocket you into fame. 

this does not mean you get off easy in life, however. during your first tour, you meet lido, and while you’re in love at first, it grows toxic. the relationship is filled with break-ups, make-ups, fights (verbal and physical), and a whole lot of heartbreak. the relationship officially ends spring 2016. 

in july 2015, you’ll suffer a miscarriage, but still bravely perform despite the pain, both physical and mental. realistically, you know the father could be lido, but you’re not sure. you know you could’ve fallen pregnant any time during a recent break from the relationship in which you slept with others, so it’s hard to say. 

you’ll be continuously linked to matty healy of the 1975, whom you met and shared a never-quite-official relationship with in 2013--2014. 

over your years in the music business, you’ll find yourself entangled with several more, women and men alike. some, you’re only interested in sex with, and others, perhaps a little more, though it never becomes anything. 

sex is something you truly excel at. promiscuity became another art form to you, a way to relax and escape, though it wasn’t always good for that. sometimes it left you feeling alone and empty... but such is life. 

people will cruelly poke fun at pain you suffer. you struggle with severe endometriosis, which could harm your chances of having children in the future. it makes the pain of your miscarriage ever present. you suffer temporomandibular joint disorder causing your jaw to shake when you sing sometimes. not everyone is kind and loving. 

but you know to surround yourself with kind and loving people. it makes things easier. your life is up and down, always twisting and turning... but you know this. it’s been this way, destined to stay this way, since before you were even born.

you know how to ride the wave. 

[jolteonwrites]

Creamy. The only word Joel would use to describe Gabe's back. It was just so soft, an endless expanse of clear skin. Not even a mole or freckle to stand in the way. He was hesitant, but eventually let his fingers graze this beautiful, creamy skin. 

 Gabe shivered, the touch too light and ticklish. Joel responded by wrapping his hand around Gabe's hip, squeezing firmly, but still gentle. Ever gentle. By Gabriel's breathing, Joel knew he wanted this to continue. Of course he did. Joel was trembling from... from what, he didn't know. But it helped that Gabe had his back to him, on all fours. He'd lowered his head against his arms on the bed, being the most patient Joel had seen. 

 Slowly, he ghosted both hands down Gabe's back and he shuddered again, shifting his knees around on the mattress. 

 The dimples at the base of his spine were deep and intriguing. Joel had a thought that his tongue would fit there just perfectly.

[jolteonwrites]

journal entry of joel kanitz, dated 19th nov. 2017

you're annoying. really. that’s all there is to it. 

the flirtation is annoying. you make everything sexual and it’s weird. i don’t really know what half your innuendos mean? and it annoys me that you find this funny. it annoys me that you’re incredibly tall and took up most of the couch when you stayed at my house. uninvited, by the way. well... not uninvited, but length of stay wasn’t exactly specified and you were there for longer than necessary. you have a lot of dark body hair and i kept finding it in unfortunate places around my home -- and before you blame me, i am not that hairy. it’s your uruguayan bloodlines. 

you know what else is annoying? when you speak spanish. not because of the language itself, or because i’m bothered by you speaking in your mother tongue. it’s just somewhat unsettling when you’re muttering things under your breath and i can’t tell if you’re making a mental shopping list or making a mental note of how i look bending over. 

i hate that i even had to write that. 

you’re annoying with the cats. you kept feeding them scraps of cheese and whatever else was on your plate. they’ll get fat, gabe! a tiny piece is okay but this was like... every night. 

i just find you very annoying. we’re not really the same type of people. 

i’d say we’re friends, don’t get me wrong. just not... great friends. we’re not really built to be that close, i don’t think. we’re too different. and you’re also a spoiled brat. i’ve only ever said that about my ex, maybe twice or three times, but you seem to expect things to just happen as you please so i’m gonna go ahead and say the description fits you too. 

you’re annoying, gabe. you like to be in the spotlight, you like to have people looking at you, and i don’t really care for that. you’re cocky, too. it’s all annoying. 

most of all... it annoys me that i’m intrigued by it. your skin looks smooth. your eyes always look soft and tired no matter smart-mouthed you’re being. you hold your tongue between your teeth when you read things. you’ve got these high, sharp hipbones underneath this pouch of tummy fat that, for some reason, i get the feeling you don’t like. and your legs are stupid long, don’t forget that. 

it’s so annoying that i woke up sweating thinking about laying between them. 

i didn’t, though. that didn’t happen. it didn’t happen. i don’t dwell on it. it was a passing thought. 

and you’re still annoying. 

[jolteonwrites]

love letters

I

love letters for a voiceless boy. i do so hope i can hear you soon, but for now just read these and know i’ll communicate with you however i can.

II

you looked like you felt small today and i just want you to know you’re never small to me. you give me the biggest love i’ve ever known. (i’m not even going to make a penis joke here… but i want to).

III

a thousand years pass in your smile. i have to look at it all. your eyes sparkle, the pink glisten of your lips, the way each tooth touches, the laughter lines and wrinkles of your face… and it’s usually only a few seconds that you do that smile. but a thousand years, mat. a thousand.

IIII

woke up with a dead arm today, because you rolled on it in your sleep and slept on it for hours. i couldn’t feel it at all until the pins and needles, forty minutes after i got up. and you know what? i’ll take that for the rest of my life.

V

i saw a dead bird today when i was out, and i thought about how you would’ve probably cried for him. i covered him with dirt. i couldn’t find any flowers for him so i just sprinkled some grass. i think he’s okay. i think we’re okay.

VI

went for a walk, found a flower shop. i hope you like yellow roses.

VII

you’re asleep right now. your feet are always hot, did you know that? my toes get cold sometimes but your feet… i don’t think i’ve ever felt them cold. anyway, you’ve got your feet pressed to the backs of my knees. every part of you has touched every part of me, literally and not-so-literally. that’s quite nice, don’t you think?

VIII

i never used to like being naked in an intimate way. now, i love nothing more than you watching me be naked with you, sexually or not. beautiful, don’t you think?

IX

i saw a bath bomb i wanted to get you in whatever city we were in yesterday, but i forgot to go back and get it. i’m bummed because it was really cool. or, i was bummed. because two minutes ago i was walking through this city we’re in right now, and i saw the same bath bomb in a different store window. how amazing is that? i’m sure God concerns Himself with better things than making sure i get you a silly present, but i feel like he gave me a little nudge today.

X

i’m missing a space that smells like you. our home smells like you all the time and i miss that. it smells like you and me and it lingers because we’re in love.

XI

one day, you’re going to wake up and feel clear, and free. i’ll be sleeping beside you. a wedding ring will glint in the morning light on your finger. you’re happy, and you know in your heart that you’re going to die happy in many years. our first baby cries sound over the baby monitor. you’re happy. we’re happy. i love you.

[jolteonwrites]

sometime in the future. they’ve broken up. it was gabe’s fault. joel’s high on cocaine.

"I'm weak. I wanted to be better than this. I wasn’t going to be like I was last time, when Kat cheated on me. I wasn’t going to be like that. I wasn’t going to spiral and fall down a hole and do things like this but I did! You made me weak, this is your fault. A-and I’m not blaming you for my bad decisions. I chose to do that. That’s not on you and it wouldn’t be right to blame that on you, but this-- you-- we had something! You convinced me I could love you and I did! I do! I love you and you ruined it. We were special, Gabriel. We were. I wanted it to work, I wanted it to be forever. It felt like forever. If I’d known I was temporary to you, I would’ve blocked your number the first night you ever texted me. I’m weak. I don’t want to be like this. I wanted to look to God to help me and carry my pain but... He’s not here, a-and I know there has to be a reason for that, a reason I have to go through this, but He’s not here. It feels like you took Him from me. You’ve taken everything from me. I feel stripped of everything I knew, everything I fought so hard to get back about myself after Kat cheated on me... I was happy being single, Gabe. I was happy. You took that too. You’ve taken my ability to stand alone and you’ve taken every ounce of how I saw myself... I don’t know who I am any more. Every day is just hurting and missing you, and being so angry at myself for missing you because this is your fault! You ruined this! You ruined it, you-- you ruined me. I hope you’re glad because you did it, you ruined me. I felt like a plaything to you and that’s it... that’s all I was. You broke me. I’m broken.”