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where : the courtyard who : coreen + open ( @langstonstarters )

" oh yeah , that's so interesting . " head nodded enthusiastically , eyes wide like that would help them absorb all of the information . quickly , their expression melted away , revealing the truth underneath as coreen leaned back against the stone wall , straightening out the wrinkles in their picnic blanket . hand moved up to examine their cuticles as they scoffed at the other . " and where'd you learn that ? a quick little wikipedia search to make yourself sound smarter ? you sound like you're just regurgitating an ai overview . it's just so ... " a deep sigh and coreen's eyes moved up to meet theirs . all faux enthusiasm was gone and there was nothing left there but a cold , stone wall . " boring . " lips pressed together and head tilted to the side as they shrugged in pity .

[memoryservves]

" it's called foreshadowing . " arms crossed over his chest as he suddenly got defensive . some mechanism that worked deep beneath his knowledge . he always had to be right . even when he was wrong , he had to be right . it was a book he couldn't care a about . something already fading far from his memory . " you should know that since you seem to think you're an expert at everything else . " words punctuated with an eye roll . " maybe you should give it another go , since you clearly missed a few key points . " the old roman was slipping out , controlling him like a puppet . dictating his tone and his attitude . he was never in control , couldn't keep his attitude held back .

for  a  moment,  he's  taken  aback  by  the  words  said  in  defense  of  the  surface  level  interpretations.  but  then  again,  maybe  all  palladian  students  really  are  just  stupid,  doomed  to  parrot  the  same  one  and  a  half  takes  as  they  ummed  and  ahhed.  this  is  what  he  gets  for  trusting  a  liberal  arts  college  in  england.  “  do  i  need  –  no.”  he  scoffs,  as  if  greatly  offended  at  the  mere  notion  of  being  looked  down  upon  by  a  guy  who  probably  studied  the  great  art  of  putting  shapes  together  as  a  major.  “not  everything  is  a  stand  -  in  for  depression.  not  to  mention  that  it  doesn't  make  any  sense  narrative  -  wise,  for  a  blue  dress  to  symbolise  sadness  when  things  are  finally  looking  up  for  her.  ”  and  then,  muttering  under  his  breath.  “  do  i  need  any  help.” 

[memoryservves]

" yeah , i , like , totally agree . " she didn't even know what she was talking about . magdalena hadn't watched many movies . and the ones she did watch were well above her comprehension . her parents didn't have time for movies like monsters inc or shrek . they'd had their fair share of children's movies with their first two kids . and if it was 4 v 1 , why would they watch what she wanted ? so , in the end , magdalena hated movies after being forced to watch so many that were long and drawn out . they were a representation of boringness to her , so she often avoided them . but alyla enjoyed movies , so the least she could do was pretend she did too . " i like to close my eyes and just pick a movie , y'know ? like a nice surprise . or when you open a dvd , and there is a different disc in there . really keeps you on your toes . what's your favorite movie ? " deflecting back to them .

LOCATION  :  their ( or someone else's !! ) dorm  (  @langstonstarters  )

“i'm  telling  you,  nobody  appreciates  a  good  bad  movie  these  days.”  an  oxymoron?  well  yes,  but  they  know  what  they  mean.  not  their  fault  if  you  can't  keep  up.  they're  sitting  on  the  bed  flipping  through  their  binder  of  dvds  (  yes,  like  this  is  2006,  she  likes  physical  media,  leave  her  be  )  and  pulling  out  a  selection  of  movies  and  broadway  bootlegs  burned  onto  disks  for  the  other  to  choose  from.  “i  blame  everyone  wanting  to  be  some  big  blockbuster.  all  the  best  so  bad  they're  good  movies  are  weird  little  midbudget  flicks.”  still  hasn't  looked  up,  or  given  them  much  space  to  get  a  word  in  edgewise.  “the  best  movies  are  the  ones  you  pull  out  of  the  big  bin  at  walmart.  or  pre-high  school  musical  obscure  dcoms.”

[memoryservves]

Andrea Gibson, "DEPRESSION [VERB]", Lord of the Butterflies

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he startled at the touch of their hands on his arms , though the gesture grounded him , brought him back to his own body . he’d forgotten what it was like — casual touches . to touch someone or to be touched without a higher purpose . roman held his breath , nervous suddenly that they would scold him , take his key and kick him out to sleep on the street like a lost dog . like when his father took his phone after the arrest . one single text allowed to be sent . one contact blocked . and he didn’t touch it until he returned to palladian for the semester . it wasn’t his phone — his father paid for it . it was never his possession to keep . nothing was . the money , the house , the cars , the company . all handed to him from his father . he even his name wasn’t his own . that came from his father too . roman was startled again as they spoke , brows coming together , forehead crinkled as he looked at them in shock . “ what are you even talking about ? this is me . “ he pulled away from them , pointing at himself . “ this is who i am . before , i was just masquerading , pretending . like a big one man show only i knew was happening . i’m not sad and listless . i’m thoughtful and considerate . i thought you of all people would appreciate this gesture . “ arms crossed over his chest , suddenly defensive .

they  knew  it.  an  alien  had  come  down  from  the  heavens,  had  infiltrated  their  school,  and  had  stolen  their  roommate's  skin  to  wear  as  a  suit  for  their  own,  ugly  and  mangled  form.  kit  knew  it.  over  the  last  few  weeks  -  they  had  observed  roman  from  behind  the  pages  of  their  books,  from  the  sheer  curtain  obscuring  their  bed  from  complete  viewing;  had  watched  him  grow  into  something  weak,  something  submissive.  this  was  the  alien's  way  of  forcing  kit's  guard  down.  they  were  next,  surely.  the  roman  alexandre  they  knew,  had  grown  to  tolerate  within  the  last  three  or  so  years  of  them  stuck  together,  would  never  speak  with  such  sincerity  unless  it  was  to  bed  them  -  and  even  then,  kit  had  shut  that  door  firm  and  quick.  maybe  it's  the  near  thirty  -  six  hours  spent  awake  on  an  oil  paints  and  canvas  bender,  but  kit  lifts  from  where  they  lay  in  bed,  art  theory  textbook  tossed  aside  as  they  stride  towards  roman.  their  hands  -  a  slight  tremble  to  them  that  is  unrelated  to  the  coffee  cup  tossed  over  their  bedside  -  encase  his  upper  arms,  holding  him  in  place.  "roman,"  kit's  voice  is  quiet  -  serious,  as  it  always  is,  "when  the  alien  baby  bursts  out  of  your  chest  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  tries  to  take  me  as  it's  mother  and  host,  just  know  that  i'll  be  thinking  of  you  and  your  sacrifice  when  i  knock  its'  head  clean  off."  there's  conviction  to  it,  their  statement  -  eyes  boring  into  his.  "fight  the  parasite,  roman.  this  isn't  you.  you're  a  muppet  of  a  man,  a  giant  prick  in  my  side,  and  the  most  obnoxious  person  i've  ever  met  in  my  entire  life  on  god's  green  earth.  not  this  ...  listless,  sad  person  you're  parading  around  as. i almost wish that you would keep me awake with loud, raunchy, pornographic sex at this rate."

[memoryservves]

face fell , eyes moved downward to the plate of cookies , staring at them as if they would speak up and save her . it was like everything she did was wrong . she could never find the right words to say nor the right gift to give . all the effort spent trying was just moot . “ oh , i’m really sorry about that . do you want me to make you a new batch ? with extra spit . “ she couldn’t stop trying — couldn’t accept the fear that patti might never like her . not just for her sake , but for her and soren . they all had to be friends . if they were going to stay together , the one person she had to get along with was his roommate . she smiled shyly as they took a a cookie , relieved they still tried it . fingers gripped the plate tightly to compensate for the sweat gathering on her palms . “ you’re a really good friend . he’s lucky to have you . “ it was gross , but she wouldn’t say that . she had to stay positive , chipper . an attitude that could eventually wear them down . hands began trembling and the cookies clinked against the glass plate . mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air . she’d forgotten . the word thrown around so casually she’d forgotten she’d told patti about subin and how they were meant to be together . “ i … uh …. well … so . “ completely and utterly speechless . she’d always been good at adapting , handling whatever challenges had been thrown at her and handling them with ease . but for once , she didn’t know how to explain something away . “ you know that people grow and change . and they learn a lot of life lessons . “ she still wouldn’t look them in the eye . “ so i just realized i made a mistake . subin doesn’t want me anyway . he’s the one who broke up with me , so i , you know , just found someone who wanted me . please , don’t tell subin . i haven't broken the news to him yet . “ eyes finally looking up into theirs , silently pleading for them to let this one go .

Truth be told, it wasn't entirely Magdalena's fault, the tang on Patti's tongue when they saw her like they'd just gulped a mouthful of orange juice with freshly brushed teeth. The rotating blades of the ceiling fan in Apocalypse Now, so reminiscent of a helicopter that a soldier with fried nerves couldn't get to sleep; it felt so much like walking in on Soren and Roman, that first day, the day that Patti realised Roman had cut her off and immediately begun fucking her dorm-mate, that the two had subconsciously bled together, watercolour unable to set. Patti hadn't shown any hint of irritation, with Soren and Roman, masked it as if their life depended on it. Their eyes lacked the same nonchalance when they flicked onto Magdalena's cookies. "What's that?" she asked plainly, as if she'd never encountered such thing as a "cookie", before, if that was even its real name. I just think you're so nice. Patti couldn't help but pull a face like they'd accidentally touched a glob of soggy food on a fork in the sink. "Christ." They shut the book they'd been reading; a trio of lesbian cannibals had just been boiling down freshly salvaged bones to make a mean broth; and set it aside, crossed a knee and blinked at her. "I like them better when someone's spat in the batter." After saying so, Patti plucked up a cookie, took a bite and silently chewed. Not bad. Then, with the mention of Soren, she swallowed far too fast without finishing. The mouthful went down sharp and jagged. "Yeah. Sometimes we pick the fluff from between each other's toes. On Tuesdays I comb his lone back hair for well over an hour." Another bite, pensive chewing; their cheek was still pooched with cookie as they spoke carefully around it. "New soulmate, then? How fucking exciting."

[memoryservves]

she smiled gratefully as he began to help . she would pay off her cosmic debt and balance things out once again , rather than risk the chance of bad karma . she needed to be on her best behavior . she had a nice , new boyfriend that she didn’t want to risk losing like the relationships that had come before . so every day , well the days when she remembered to do it , she’d complete a random act of kindness . picking flowers from different gardens to give to her friends . complimenting outfits she thought were ugly . taping back posters she had ripped up . she was doing her due diligence as a good human being . “ yes , well , you don’t need to give me so much credit . i’m doing what anyone one do . “ feigned modesty she didn’t feel . back straighter and head held higher proud her heroic actions were being recognized . “ i’m a good girl . i’m not cut out for crime , “ she confirmed . at least for now . it was beneficial to be good , to not participate in deviant activities . but there was a chance that opinion would change in just a few hours . considering just yesterday it had been worth it to take a few posters . but they were going to get thrown away , so she thought someone should get to enjoy them . magdalena frowned at the crooked piece but didn’t bother saying anything . he was helping , and she didn’t want to come off as ungrateful . “ i appreciate it . thanks for your help . “ lips pressed together in a fine line over the offer . maybe this guy was some kind of priest , and this was her sign to go to confession . eyes rolled over his body , taking in his outfit , his posture , the attitude that clung to him like it was a perfectly tailored jacket . that couldn’t be it . “ well , seems like you have a few sins of your own . get punched in the ear ? need a nurse to take care of you ? “ a coy smile followed her words paired with wide , innocent eyes . 

adrien looked like he’d just wandered off the set of a lazily made indie film. oversized leather jacket hanging loose off one shoulder, sunglasses perched in the tangle of his dark, windswept hair, one boot untied and laces trailing like he’d given up halfway through existing. he stopped a few feet away, hands deep in his pockets, and tilted his head at her. “you ripped it twice and came back to fix it? that’s cute. borderline heroic.” his voice carried in the empty hallway, echoing off the scuffed walls and random lockers, most of which were covered in half-peeled stickers or faded threats from last year’s student council elections. he crouched beside her without much ceremony, shifting his jacket sleeve up with his teeth to keep it from catching on the tape. from his back pocket, he pulled a grimy roll of masking tape, barely holding together — covered in lint, a stray hair, and questionable good intentions.

“you know this is like, the universe’s way of telling you to stop stealing public art,” he muttered, tearing a piece with an obnoxiously loud rip. “or maybe it’s a sign you’re not cut out for crime.” his hands worked fast, practiced but careless, smoothing one strip onto the poster with the heel of his palm. then another. the third, though, he placed slightly crooked — on purpose. he looked sideways at her, waiting for the twitch in her eye. “look at that. straight as trauma.” he rocked back on his heels, then pushed to his feet with a lazy stretch, his shirt riding up to flash a bit of tattooed skin and waistband. he gazed down at her like she was the main character in a scene he hadn’t been cast in, but was crashing anyway. “relax, poster girl. i’m making it better. giving it character.” with a mock-sober tone, he gestured to the resurrected poster like he was unveiling a masterpiece. “anything else you wanna confess while you’re in your redemption arc? i’m all ears. or, at least, one ear. the other one’s still recovering from last night.” he smirked again — sharp and crooked — and took a step back, letting the silence settle around them like the dust in the hallway.

[memoryservves]

body went still at the scream . muscles tight and rigid like they were the dead body now . heart beat rapidly in their chest . it had been a morbid curiosity , moving closer and closer to see if they were about to uncover some big mystery at the temporary school . but they'd come out here to get away , to get some breathing space from the suffocating atmosphere of the place . it was what their mother wanted . for coreen to gain their own independence , but the only way the place would be bearable would be if their brother was here with them . finally , after a moment of silence that stretched further than the distance between them , they collected their thoughts . " you're not very funny . " back straightened up as they rolled their shoulders back to narrow a glare at her . " go back to the theater where you belong . " their imagination had never been allowed to run wild . cynical and callous , they didn't have the patience for pranks or pretending to be something else . " but , i don't think you have a very promising career there . "

THE CRUMBLING ABBEY.

✴ ˚ — open starter @langstonstarters  !

             THE  WEST  WIND  RUSTLES  THE  LEAVES  OF  A  TREE,  AND  BRIGHT  WHITE  CLOUDS  FLIT  RAPIDLY  BEYOND  THE  CRUMBLING  ABBEY  SUMIN  FINDS  HERSELF  LYING  AMONGST.  She  takes  note  of  the  bird  calls  that  pour  from  every  side—  throstles  and  blackbirds,  the  book  lectured  on  her  way  here,  but  the  book  is  forgotten  somewhere  in  the  vicinity,  and  Sumin  is  watching  tendrils  of  wispy  smoke  rise  from  the  cigarette  hanging  loosely  between  her  lips,  fading  into  the  expansive  blue  sky.  She  hears  the  snap  of  a  twig  and  the  telltale  sound  of  footsteps  nearing,  and  for  a  second,  she  contemplates  making  a  run  for  it,  but  one  glance  at  her  bleeding  knee  keeps  her  firmly  earthbound.  Instead,  she  sighs  and  hopes  for  the  pain  to  numb.  While  walking  here,  she  tripped  over  a  stone  jutting  out  of  the  grass  and  happened  to  land  knee-first  on  a  second  stone,  which  is  just  her  luck,  although  she  shouldn’t  be  surprised.  She  had  her  nose  stuck  in  a  book,  after  all—  a  stupid  book  about  stupid  birds.

When  the  figure  approaches,  Sumin  decides  to  play  dead,  despite  the  lit  cigarette  still  trapped  between  her  lips.  She  closes  her  eyes,  relaxes,  and  waits  for  them  to  get  closer.  When  they  do,  she  sits  up  suddenly,  opening  her  eyes  wide  and  summoning  an  awful  screech  from  her  throat.  ❛❛BOO!❜❜

[memoryservves]

a hundred other seats were open , but coreen wanted that one . a lesson they had learned from the moment they took their first breath . they had to fight for what they wanted and had to be strong in their resolve . so they wanted that spot just to show they could have it . to prove to themself that they could take what they wanted . that they'd always be a winner . “ not used to seeing me outside of your nightmares ? i’m taking the day off from haunting . “ a bored tone as they stood like a statue waiting from them to move . “ do you always talk to yourself like this ? or only when you’re trying to catch the attention of someone way out of your league . “ eyes kept moving to their feet , trying to do it the easy way . to signal to them to move without telling them . the art of influence .

LOCATION : THE FORUM .

MUSE : LANCE & [ YOU ] . / no cap !

@langstonstarters ( note: go weird , mean , flirty , i am truly down for anything and everything , be free . )

delete  what  message  ?  call  it  lame  ,  and  it  was  ,  but  lance  could  not  stop  thinking  about  that  horoscope  .  they  turned  it  over  ,  and  over  ,  like  a  fine  rotisserie  chicken  (  ah  ,  that  was  the  problem  ,  famished  again  )  in  their  mind  .  this  was  what  found  them  scrolling  on  their  phone  instead  of  finishing  up  this  project  ,  and  it  was  due  about  twelve  hours  from  now  ,  at  the  stroke  of  midnight  .  how's  that  for  cinderella  ?  the  thick  soles  of  their  creepers  rested  on  the  empty  chair  across  from  them  ,  tall  frame  taking  up  way  too  much  space  ,  but  at  least  feeling  alive  ,  as  opposed  to  the  other  day  .  the  remnants  and  bare  minimum  progress  on  his  project  —  “  put  together  a  mock  exhibition  ,  analogue  ,  not  digitial  ”  —  resembled  an  architect  in  the  midst  of  blueprints  ,  or  so  that's  how  lance  thought  they  looked  according  to  the  dramas  they  watched  .  “  i  didn't  even  put  this  off  and  i'm  still  fucking  behind  .  i think they're bound and determined to send us to the — ” the  stress  had  them  talking  to  themself  ;  awful  .  terrible  news  .  a  flash  of  actual  fear  ?  DON'T  BE  A  FAILURE  .  they  flashed  a  sheepish  ,  small  smile  when  they  realised  they  weren't  talking  to  themself  .  “  —  oh  .  ”  their  tone  ?  up  to  you  to  interpret  ;  the  flashing  widening  of  their  eyes  ,  the  distinct  twitch  of  their  face  .  “  it's  you  .  ” so  long  as  you  don't  make  fun  of  what  he's  doing  .

[memoryservves]

they’d had a hard time sleeping since leaving langston . what should have been familiar and comforting , just felt empty . a reminder of everything they’d lost . a reminder of every time they failed . a reminder of a family who couldn't even take the time to visit them . so they’d sneak around . in the quiet of the night when things were calm , when they felt like they could take a deep breath . there wasn’t a particular reason they went to the solarium — they’d only let their feet be their guide . but that turned out to be a curse . no longer alone . the illusion of peace shattered as they composed themself , the vulnerability once again hidden beneath a mask of haughtiness . “ what am i supposed to do ? peer around the people to get a good view of the exhibit in the day time ? " chipper tone at war with the deadpan look on their face . “ apologies , didn’t realize the school revolved around your schedule . “ grabbing the sides of their blue plaid skirt , they curtseyed , so low the hem of the skirt pooled around them . and when they lifted their head , their was not a trace of sincerity there , only a cold glare . 

WHERE:     near an open window at the solarium. WITH:    anyone. hit me with your best shot.

when  restlessness  clawed  beneath  his  skin  like  an  itch  he  couldn’t  scratch,  maximo  slipped  quietly  out  of  the  dorms  and  made  his  way  to  the  solarium.  a  half-smoked  blunt,  swiped  from  the  communal  stash  he  shared  with  delilah,  usually  keeping  him  company.  he  rarely  ventured  there  during  the  day.  there  was  something  sacred  about  the  stillness  that  came  only  after  midnight.  the  halls  felt  like  a  different  world  at  night,  stripped  of  noise  and  eyes,  wrapped  in  a  soft  hush  that  allowed  the  rotating  art  installations  to  shimmer  under  the  gentle  caress  of  moonlight.  it  was  his  hideaway.  a  secret  space  tucked  between  steel  beams  and  glass  walls  where  he  could  be  alone  with  his  thoughts,  uninterrupted  save  for  the  occasional  passing  janitor  or  the  night  security  guard  who  had  long  since  stopped  trying  to  chase  him  off. on  occasion  max  would  strike  up  conversations  with  them.  half-stoned  musings  or  lazy  debates  about  whether  a  piece  hanging  in  the  atrium  was  actually  good  or  just  pretentious.  but  not  tonight.  tonight,  he  wanted  the  silence.  craved  it.  he  didn’t  know  how  long  he’d  been  meandering  through  the  space—maybe  an  hour,  possibly  two.  time  felt  hazy,  stretched  thin  like  honey.  the  soft  scent  of  weed  clung  to  his  hoodie  as  he  paused  before  a  new  piece,  exhaling  slow  and  steady.  that’s  when  he  heard  it.  footsteps.  not  the  muffled  shuffle  of  a  tired  janitor.  nor  the  familiar  rhythm  of  callum’s  boots  rushing  to  warn  maximo  he  needed  to  leave  soon  before  the  morning  crew  arrived.  max  didn’t  startle.  he  just  turned,  blinking  at  the  figure  now  standing  in  the  archway.  brows  furrowed.  the  haze  around  his  thoughts  clearing  just  enough  for  surprise  to  creep  in.  "  i've  either  overstayed  too  late  or  you're  here  way  too  early.  which  one  is  it?  "

[memoryservves]

the world moved in slow motion , its spin on its axis slowing to a crawl . they touched . a feeling roman had been content to never experience again . first , his head . and finally , he grabbed his hand , and roman swore his heart stopped beating . it wasn't real . it meant soren still felt something . that no matter how deeply roman had cut him , it hadn't severed his heart strings . the smile that began working his way across his mouth vanished in an instance with his feet being pulled out from under him . the smile quickly replaced with a look of utter disbelievment , probably the same look soren had on his face when he learned roman was okay . that he wasn't hurt . that he was just a bad person .

he caught himself before he fell flat on his face . one of the few good things he'd learned growing up . he always needed to be presentable , living his life like the paparazzi were waiting around every corner . never to be caught in an uncompromising position . appearances mattered . because it didn't affect just him but his whole legacy . if people didn't like roman , they would never invest in his father's company . there was never a moment to relax . never a time to let his guard down . even when he was out all night , he'd never leave a club with a wrinkle on his shirt . because bart would let him get away with anything as long as it didn't leave a stain on the alexandre name . roman had toed the line so much that it became his home . that he couldn't tell where it began and where it ended , so he walked on past it . far , far , far on the other side . so far away he couldn't see the line anymore . and he'd ruined everything . like a jenga tower , one wrong piece pulled out and everything collapsed .

but he never had a chance to straighten up before soren's teeth grazed his skin . an electric shock snaked through his body , waking every nerve in his system . and for the first time since his arrest , roman felt alive .

as soren crawled away , roman looked down at the red , angry skin , finger running over the indents left behind . he wished he was bleeding . wished soren had drawn blood . that he sunk his teeth so deep into roman that he sucked out the very thing that made him alive . he could see it — soren's teeth dripping with his blood , smears on his face , and best of all , roman's lifeforce in his system , mixed with his own . all muddled together , unable to tell who was who . that a part of roman was in soren forever , infecting him deep into his organs . blood brothers . there was nothing left to roman . he wasn't even a ghost ; all that was left was his shadow . a shadow following around his father . he didn't think he was real anymore . soren's teeth said otherwise . he wanted soren to have whatever pieces of him were left . there wasn't much . hadn't been anything until they'd been reunited . soren brought out the life in him . it was only right that roman bled out for him . gave him his all . give him something to remember him by until the moon rose , and he disappeared into the darkness .

his screams , his words , were pricks into roman's skin . little splinters he couldn't quite dig out . because he hated to see him in pain . hated to see him heartbroken . wanted to see him happy . wanted to see his loopy smile that never failed to bring out a matching one on roman's face . but there was another part that liked the power . liked seeing his pain of a physical representation of how much he cared . that he had the influence to bring that out in him . it's what real power was . it wasn't about the money or the amount of property he owned . it was about his ability to illicit emotion in someone else . despite the darkness , his pupils dilated . the black overpowering the blue . fitting . the monster bart created clawing its way to the surface and taking over , leaving no room for the good boy his mother had tried to raise .

roman caught him , arms out and waiting for his prize . for the man he wanted but could never have . the one thing his father would never let him keep . arms wrapped around his midsection , steadying him against his stomach . easy to brush off as propping him up because he was too drunk to stand . but roman wanted him close . head leaning in towards his ear , taking a deep breath , breathing in the familiar scent that was so perfectly soren . nose nestled into his curls as lips parted slightly , eyes glued to the crook of his neck . how easy it would be to press a kiss there , pepper kisses against his pulse , against the veins bulging from anger . to do what he could to calm him down . to offer all he could to the other in the only way he knew how . arms tightened , he wouldn't let him go . not tonight . not on what could be the last time they might ever touch . soren was drunk . roman could say whatever he wanted and the other man wouldn't remember . he could even say the three little words he'd never been brave enough to say , but that had been present in every brush of his fingers , every kiss they shared , and every time their laughter blended together . leaning close , his mouth a hair away from his ear . " patti told me you two were together . i'm jealous . is that what you want to hear ? that i still dream about the taste of you ? that i hate that patti is touching you when it should be me ? " it was only them , and maybe it was wrong to do it , but he loosened his grip and ran his finger along the line of skin that was exposed between soren's shirt and waistband . another deep breath before he broke the spell . it was wrong to do this . they were over , and he was drunk . but it was the only chance he had , and roman was desperate for one more moment of fantasy with him . " let's get you home , handsome . someone needs to take care of you . " roman pulled back , still keeping one arm wrapped around his waist , determiend to get him home safe as his last act of kindness .

This was amongst one of the more humiliating moments of Soren’s life. There were a large handful of them, considering just how low he’d gone as a kid just to get by. During the times where he’d scooped up Reese and run off from some of the more rough foster families and had attempted to sustain them on the streets, there were things Soren had done he still hadn’t talked about to date. He’d lived with shame since he was born - horrified by the people he’d been brought into the world by, ashamed that the one person who was meant to be his constant had left him behind after years of protecting and taking care of him, like Soren was nothing more than an acquaintance from an abroad trip. Disgust, with himself, with his upbringing, the way he coped with it, with himself as a person - it hung heavy on his shoulders, always. It’d been there when Roman knew what he was getting into, and it still draped across him like a weighted blanket as he took in Roman’s gaze. Worse, now, knowing that he was practically giving Roman what Soren suspected he wanted - to see him so low. 

There’d been a time where Soren had gotten genuinely frustrated with Roman’s insistence. What’d worked in their relationship was the ease - the lack of volatile criticism that both their father’s had produced. They knew to never raise their voice with each other, never point fingers or transfer blame. And despite Roman sharing these qualities from the beginning, Soren had done what he could to make sure he didn’t dive too deep, accept too much from Roman, let alone become a boyfriend. The word alone when Roman had first presented it made Soren flinch, visibly cringe in front of the other’s face like he’d suggested they get matching tramp stamps on date one. But Roman was - affectionately relentlessly. Positively so, giving Soren space while simultaneously refusing to let him forget that Roman was, very much so, aware of his angle, of the fact that Soren was going to continue pushing him away. And then he didn’t go anywhere. What was Soren meant to do with that, other than fall for him so pathetically it left him splayed in the middle of the street on a random night?

“Go away,” he tried again, words slurred and inaudible even to his ears. Closing one eye to see Roman properly - and immediately regretting it, trying to focus on anything that didn't make him more and more nauseous. Roman had commented he wasn’t completely gone, but Soren felt as if he was. Couldn’t even feel his face at that point, head swimming, swallowing thickly as his stomach gurgled and threatened to go belly-up again. The only thing that’d pulled him out of his momentary drunken stupor was Roman’s speech about Soren and Patti - an apparent couple now, one he wasn’t aware of. It made him bellow out a guttural, “Huh?” that might’ve been warranted and more digestible if he weren’t as drunk as he was. As it was, Soren could barely sit up, thought he was still clinging to the name he’d heard - suddenly wishing Patti was there, sure they’d drag Soren to their dorm and shove him into bed while preserving whatever dignity he had left, if not at least making fun of him the entire way back. He was fiercely protective of them - hated Roman even saying their name. “Patti?” Said in an almost perfect Scooby-Doo impression with how intoxicated it was, falling from his mouth more than anything else. “Fuck’re you talking about -?” Attempting to sit up, Soren’s forehead knocked off of the hand Roman had extended to him. It made him start - the first time they’d actually touched, skin to skin, since the break up.

“We’re not dating. Fuck’re you talking about?” Soren repeated - to preserve Patti’s dignity, make sure their name was never in Roman’s mouth again, if he could help it. Though his gaze hadn’t left from the extended offer of a hand - they’d grazed each other now, but it wouldn’t be the same, if he simply reached forward and took Roman’s hand. After the adrenaline of moving to England, starting at Palladian, Soren had to come to terms with the fact that his family was gone - done with him, fully left him behind even when he’d been the one to try and keep them together, and when that failed and it was just a family of two, keep them alive. It hurt - often. Like pressing on a freshly formed bruise that blossomed right over his core and often left him sickly and breathless. When he was at his worst, there were days where Roman would force him to his own dorm, but didn’t expect anything. Simply let Soren sleep for hours on end while patiently and dutifully holding his hand the entire time. It was a simple form of communication, but it’d worked for them. Now, seeing Roman’s hand extended to him, Soren felt nothing but a raw and paramount anger.

For a second, Soren merely continued to stare. Then, when he clasped his hand onto Roman’s, he didn’t hesitate - using whatever strength he had left to drag the other in, tug him in as close as possible, and kick out. Make sure Roman’s foot tripped out from underneath him so that he had no choice but to stumble, Soren simultaneously shifting his grip, so that he could hold at Roman's wrist and chomp down at the sensitive skin between thumb and index finger. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that the intent was obvious. Screaming out while he did so, sounding akin to Samara Weaving in Ready or Not, leaving a dent before pulling back and drawing out his bellow as he did so. A continuous shout that he hadn’t let out since the day he’d continuously texted Roman, concerned, until suddenly the texts had stopped going through. “Fuck! You!” Shoving Roman’s hand away, like it’d personally offended and Soren hadn’t just physically harmed him, he attempted his crawl again - pushing himself to an eventual stand and stumbling immediately. The rush of the moment keeping the spins at bay, but he was still far too drunk for his own good, world spinning on its axis and causing his vision to swirl with how quickly he stood. When he fell backwards, straight into Roman, it wasn’t with a shuffle or a trip of his feet - it was more trust fall than anything. Soren was prepared to crack his skull open, sure that was his fate, rather than Roman actually catching him. He’d just bitten his hand after all - Soren had always been more feral mutt than whimpering pup when he was properly angered.

[memoryservves]

Sophie Isabella FW25

[memoryservves]

not everyone got it . got her obsession with fitting in . everyone thought they were unique , different , their own person . but she'd learned there was no such thing . no one was different . despite their names or their clothes , everyone was the same at their core . humanity could be boiled down into a simple thing . everyone was lonely . everyone had a hole they were trying to fill . through different ways , but humans were motivated by a desire to fill that hole and find joy . this was her way . to fit in . that's what she wanted to feel satisfied in life . she didn't care what he thought or whether or not he respected her decisions . if she could , she would please everyone , but she had learned that was an impossible dream . so she wouldn't try to impress him or give in or make him like her . she would stand her ground . for once , she would stand up for herself . " do you get tired of being an outsider ? it must be exhausting to brood all day . it doesn't change the fact that you're no better than me . here we are at the same place and at the same school . what's the difference between you and me ? nothing except i make an effort to be happy . "

if  there  was  something  to  know  about  bash  it  was  he  was  damn  sure  of  himself.  he  knew  who  he  was,  what  he  stood  for.  what  he  hated  and  what  he  loved.  he  knew  the  intricacies  of  every  mask  he  had  and  how  every  single  one  followed  a  root  entangled  to  his  core.  he  was  always  himself,  just  not…  fully.  he  was  bash,  but  turned  on  a  dial.  sometimes  that  entailed  being  so  wild,  lively,  and  reckless  that  he  somehow  ended  up  being  the  life  of  the  party.  other  times  he'd  fade  into  the  background  noise  and  practically  be  invisible.  then  there  were  moments  like  this  where  he  was  caught  in  between  the  cross  fires  with  another  incredibly  stubborn  individual.  both  stood  there,  unmoved.  features  barely  faltered  and  insults  left  tongues  as  if  was  what  nurtured  them.  〝                                    do  you  ever  get  tired  fitting  into  a  box  that's  labelled  as  normal,  magdalena?  do  you  eve  know  what  you're  fighting  for?  are  you  even  actually  mad?                  〞

[memoryservves]

with a shrug of her shoulders , she grabbed her drink again , taking a sip to fill the silence . she smiled at him , ecstatic her opinion held so much weight . it was what she wanted out of life — to be a very important person , a vip . someone who was a trusted source with a valuable opinion . it didn't always feel that way , but that was her own fault as her opinions were as fluid as a stream . they changed every day . depending on her mood . depending on what other people were saying . she never wanted to be left out . she never wanted to move against the herd . if she was going to make herself stand out , it needed to be for something pleasant , for something happy , not for being a dissident . " that's exactly how it came across . goodness , you took the words right out of my mouth . are you some kind of mind reader ? " observing him with furrowed brows and a head tilted to the side , as if she was looking for some manifestation of a super power . completely blown out of proportion . she couldn't even remember what his novel was about . " it was just so bold . you're really going to make a name for yourself. i think you'll sell out as soon as it hits the shelves . when will that be ? "

“  not  really  a  weapon  kind  of  guy,  ”  he  could  be  scrapy,  sure,  he  definitely  knew  how  to  win  a  fist  fight  purely  through  the  force  of  being  an  asshole,  but  the  idea  of  wielding  a  book  as  a  weapon  did  quite  seem  to  suit  him.  it’s  a  sort  of  dry  response  to  her  joke,  but  it  was  mildly  amused,  at  least.  he’s  grateful  when  she  steers  the  conversation  to  exactly  where  he  wants  it  to  go,  it’s  sort  of  like  an  unspoken  agreement  between  them,  this  set  up  they  have  —  both  flattering  the  other’s  ego,  neither  taking  the  time  to  ever  really  learn  anything  meaningful  about  the  other.  “  i’m  glad  you  liked  it,  ”  there’s  a  sort  of  half  smile  on  his  face,  he’s  trying  to  not  look  too  self  satisfied.  “  y’know  your  opinion  means  a  lot  to  me,  ”  as  any  flattering  opinion  did  with  him,  “  what  did  you  think  of  the  prose  ?  i  was  trying  to  make  it  more  direct,  sort  of  brash.  i  don’t  know  if  it  came  across.  ”

[memoryservves]

roman turned his attention to the painting again , giving it one last once over before looking at his notes . satisfied with that he wrote , he shifted his weight and swung his backpack around , shoving his notebook in there followed by the drop of his pen . readjusting the straps , he looked at adrien with a pained smile . there had been a time when roman would have stood his ground , let the other goad him into some kind of argument until things came to blows . but he had changed . at least , one good thing came out about his winter break fiasco . he knew he didn't need to stand there and let himself be provoked . he couldn't anyhow ; he was on his best behavior after all . bart would be so disappointed and punish his only child if he caught wind of a fight breaking out . and bart always had a way of reading him . of reading between the lines of his words and deducing the truth . " sorry , for giving you any false ideas of obsession . i don't care about you . you're nothing but a fly in my ear , and i wish you the best , adrien . " with that , he turned and left the gallery , making his way towards the library to write his paper .

adrien’s lips quirked up at the jab, eyes glittering like he’d just been handed a gift. there was a satisfaction in roman’s words, the kind that made adrien feel alive in the most irritating way possible. he loved it. roman’s frustration was practically tangible, and adrien wasn’t about to let it go to waste. “jesus, are you sure you’re not the one who’s hung up on me?” he said, grinning like he’d just made a point, and casually leaned a shoulder against the wall, one leg cocked like he was posing for a magazine. “i mean, you’re the one who’s gotta keep reminding me how much of a loser i am, right? doesn’t that kinda make you… the one obsessed?” he reached into his pocket, retrieved another energy drink, and this time, shook it mockingly in roman’s direction. “don’t worry, though. i’m sure your shiny future is just around the corner. you know, after you stop pretending to be so above all this. or stop hanging around people who make you feel important. it’s cute, really. like, real cute. wanna tell me more about how unbothered you are?”

adrien tossed the can into a nearby trash can with a flourish. “see, i don’t have to try hard to piss you off. it’s practically effortless.” he shrugged, glancing back over his shoulder, expression almost too sincere. “but hey, i get it. really. i was that guy once, too.” he stepped a little closer, eyes glinting in the sun from the headache settling in of the hangover. “you know, being a little less… like this might actually make you more interesting. just a thought.” he turned away again, feigning indifference, but his grin remained, smug and wide. his shoulders were loose, relaxed, as if he hadn’t a care in the world — except that roman definitely, definitely cared. and that was everything adrien needed.

[memoryservves]

roman towered over him , his shadow eclipsing his light in the same way the moon eclipsed the sun . head bent down . it would look like he was praying from anyone passing by , but he was standing and staring with wide , unblinking eyes . it was fitting . roman standing proud and tall while soren lay on the ground . its what happened , wasn't it ? roman knocked him down , breaking up with him and blocking him . dusting off his hands , he walked off seemingly unscathed . walked off better perhaps . his future stake in the company had been secured . he hadn't really known what had happened with soren . tried to fill his time with company meetings , catching up on schoolwork and spending more time with maeve . but he knew soren took it hard based on their fight in the classroom . he'd tried to delude himself into thinking soren never cared about him . that's why it took so much time to persuade him to officially become his boyfriend . because he didn't want him . now , roman was certain that wasn't the case . this is what happened . roman had left him stranded , helpless in the middle of the road . fodder for any car that drove by .

" glad to see you're not completely gone . " he could see this playing out another way . roman approaching soren . laughing at him , teasing at him . poking him with the tip of his boat shoe . falling next to him , resting his head on his shoulder and staring up at the stars , making up fake constellations and fake myths to tell each other . but that was from a time long passed . things wouldn't be like that again . things would be easier if he turned around and left , walking far off into the horizon and leaving the other to the hands of fate . to leave him to figure out his own way home . leave him to some car that could eventually come this way . it would solve his problems . physically leave him behind . the last cut of the knife . the last brick in the wall . the break wouldn't be clean , but it would be final . except , it was different when it was a cell phone between them . a press of a button and things were ended . visions of bart filling up his sight and blocking out everyone else . making him feel like a character in a tv show . breaking up with his boyfriend and instantly moving on . television heartbreak that was easily digestible . one episode of crying and it was never mentioned again . it wasn't real . this was . seeing him in person . the streetlight making his golden curls glow like a halo . his person a light against the darkness of the street . hands clenched behind his back , knuckles white as bone strained to escape . bitten cheek to keep from yelling at him . for telling him how irresponsible he was and how stupid he was to fall and get himself scratched up . to go out drinking with no one to take care of him . because roman wasn't there to look after him .

he couldn't leave him . because he missed him so deeply . because he understood what the poets meant about a broken heart — he felt a cavern in his chest where his heart should be , and it was pulsing as he watched him . this was the first time he felt like a real person since winter break . seeing him in class was different — surrounded by watchful eyes . but it was the two of them alone . like they were meant to be . fingers tightened as nails dug into his palms . the pain a necessary evil , a small distraction , so he didn't get on his hands and knees and crawl to him . so he didn't gently wipe the rocks from his wounds and lick them clean . a deep breath and he extended his hand to soren , ready to lift him off the street .

he had to touch him . even if it was for the last time , he needed to feel their hands clasped together , to feel their souls merge as they became one . to transmit everything to him through the touch of their hands . they'd never needed to speak to each other to understand each other . why couldn't soren understand him now ? " where's patti ? " eyes dragged around their empty surroundings . " aren't you two dating now ? " a scorned ex . jealousy creeping and crawling over his words . " why isn't she here to pick you up ? " he couldn't stop himself , desperate to dig into the comment she had made to him the last time they'd spoken . two people he no longer had any claim over . two people he had abandoned . he shouldn't feel this way . he didn't have a right to feel this way anymore . breathing sped up , his chest moving up and down , faster than that of a marathon runner . a boy trapped in a closest . banging on the door and screaming to be let out . but there was no escape . more than the panic , an ache of longing gripped him , chains driving him into the road , leaving him unable to pick up his feet and leave . beneath that longing , beneath his skin electrified at the thought of his touch and deeper still , a part of him liked it . liked soren yelling at him . liked him insulting him . it felt good . his worst thoughts come to life in the body of the person he loved the most . roman had learned from a young age that hatred was love beneath a different name . that someone who really loved him would have to be mean , to tell him the harsh truths and never spare his feelings . not to hurt him but to make him stronger . to lead him to change . that was what real love was . it would be easier to move on if there was nothing there , but roman was drawn to him . a moth to a flame . the enticing light that would ultimately lead to his death ,

for: roman @memoryservves location: idk a random party. on or off campus. the world's our oyster<3

"Jesus Christ, Thompson, you look like shit."

It was probably a fair assessment. Soren didn't even have the wherewithal to be offended - squinting in an attempt to see one of the person he'd been previously talking to. A nice girl from his classes who definitely didn't deserve to deal with him when he was at his worst like this. Soren couldn't really remember the last time he'd gotten so blind-drunk he had to clutch the wall of the party pounding around him like it might've restored him back to homeostasis. He also couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry that it was impossible to shake off the acidity of it the way he usually would - with some needed company, a few beers. Chain-smoking typically involved. There hadn't been a minute throughout the entire night where he didn't have a cigarette clamped between pursed lips, pinched in shaking fingers. "Ah, fuck," he slurred, wiping across his forehead. It was tacky with sweat, like he was suddenly feverish - mouth filling with saliva, a tell-tale sign. The first time he'd gotten this drunk he'd been 13, less than four days before he'd see his dad for the last time. Sergeant Thompson had insisted it was a right of passage, but really he needed a drinking partner after his mum had grown tired of his harsh mouth and violent reflexes.

"Sorry," Half-hearted as he shoved past the other, reaching out without any real aim. The room spun too much for Soren to find his destination with ease, forehead whacking off the door frame none too gently. It'd leave a goose egg, but he was too determined to break outside, too drunk to even feel the impact. This was - frankly, humiliating. The lowest of the low, as far as he was concerned. He'd been like this at 13 - and then again at 25, when his brother suddenly up and left. The only times his heart had been broken - until now, forced to face the reality that he had been nothing but a lovestruck moron. It was egotistical of him, but Soren had always assumed he'd been above it - perfected his craft of skipping out when it counted the most. There'd been meaningful flings, one other relationship that could've become something important if he allowed it - but as soon as Reese was gone, he was too, traveling across the pond to Palladian, and that'd died easily. Brain shutting off and detaching himself from any other past niceties and connections. Apparently it took a certain type of person to properly let his walls down, sweet talk him with promises that were never kept. So, really - whose fault was this, if it wasn't his own?

Barely making it off the porch, the contents of Soren's stomach quickly coated the nearest bush - a rose bush that seemed to be properly taken care of, and he was defiling it in the worst way possible. "Sorry," he mumbled - to himself, the plant he'd just thrown up all over. Pathetic and a bit weak-kneed after heaving the little bit that was in his system. What he really wanted was to go home - not to his dorm, but to New Orleans. In his drunken stupor, he had half a mind to call Mo - but that would've ended in nothing but an argument. His old manager (foster dad, though they never talked about that part) had always given Soren a hard time about the habits he picked up in the name of dulling his senses. Instead, he whispered to himself - small encouragements, until he made it to the end of the sidewalk, attempting to cross the street, find his way back to his bed. Instead, the moment he stepped off the curb, he was tripping over his own gait - scraping his wrist all the way up his forearm on the gravel of the road in front of him. "Fuck, fuck!" He sputtered, no blood actually spilling but skin red-raw with road rash and immediately irritated. The only thing Soren could do was laugh - flop on his back and lie sprawled in the middle of non-existent traffic. It was too late for the street to be busy, but if a car were to come, he could only hope it didn't run him over. "M'fine," he mumbled, eyes still closed, though he could tell someone was hovering over him by the way the street light dimmed in his vision. "Seriously - gimme, like. Dunno, a minute -," If this person understood anything Soren was saying around drunk-thick tongue, it'd be a miracle. He choked on the end of his sentence anyway, holding a hand up to block out the light and take in the sight of Roman. Judging him, most likely. Wondering how he'd ever stooped so low to be with the guy that was throwing up in rose bushes and sleeping in the middle of the street. "Fuck - my fuckin' life, you're like a cockroach. Go away." He spat, feebly rolling onto his stomach and attempting to crawl away, of all things.