( mason gooding, cis male, he/him, muse n ) oh snap! is that CHASE LEXINGTON ‘LEX’ FRANKLIN? they work over at high volume where some of the other employees have labeled them as THE DIRTBAG. that’s probably because they can be a bit ( witty ) but also pretty ( standoffish ) they’re TWENTY-THREE and they’ve been living in woodstock for NINETEEN YEARS. it must be their shift because i totally hear AEROSMITH blasting from the record store. ( aesthetics: ignoring conversation in favor of the company of his walkman, rolled up flannels under corduroy jackets, a knowing smile that appears after a sip of beer, fixing up an old junk car due to sheer will of wanting to leave town. ) @volumeupdates
howdy everyone ! i’m riley, i’m twenty-two, and newly moved to the cst timezone! i’m …… So Stoked to be here with all of you, i'm already just a wee lil bit obsessed with all of your characters, and cannot wait to plot & write with all of you! i’m a lil removed from groups so aha …… bear w me on this intro post :’ )
CONTENT WARNING: drug overdose, in the ‘facts’ section, and is tagged at the beginning of the bullet point.
BASICS.
full name: chase lexington franklin, born chase lexington.
nickname(s): exclusively, lex.
age: twenty - three.
birth place: atlanta, georgia .
height: 6 ft. 2 in., or 188 cm.
hometown: woodstock, illinois.
current location: woodstock, illinois.
nationality: american.
languages spoken: english.
occupation: employee at high volume records.
face claim: mason gooding.
FACTS.
goes exclusively by lex, which is a shortened version of his birth mother’s last name (lexington; he took it as his middle name when he was adopted). his adoptive family are the only ones who call him chase, and he hates it.
speaking of miss lexington, his mother was woodstock through and through! was really well-liked by the town, crowned illinois cob-eating champion three years running. quite the small town girl, but went to atlanta looking for an adventure — she found it in the form of lex’s birth father, but he was never really in the picture.
TW: DRUG OVERDOSE. when lex was seven, his mother overdosed on opioids, leaving lex without parents or a family. enter his adoptive family, who took him in and raised him — but they never really got along, especially not after his adoptive father called his late mother a lot of awful things. lex never really subscribed to the whole religion thing, either, so that was an added lil’ schism. END TW.
his mother left him three things that he kept: a woven bracelet (which he wears all the time), and two cassette tapes, one of which he listens to almost every day — chances are, if you see him with his walkman, that cassette is playing. the second was destroyed when a car ran over it, but he still has the tracklist, and he’s determined to find records at high volume that have these specific songs so that he can recreate her playlist once more.
personality wise, he’s a bit standoffish. quiet, but when there’s a chance to butt in with a sarcastic comment, he absolutely will find a way. brutally honest, but not looking to be the center of attention (think: jess mariano). to those who don’t automatically paint him just as the pastor’s charity case, he can tolerate. he’ll probably roll his eyes and say fuck off under his breath, otherwise.
he’s pretty sick of woodstock — not particularly because of the place itself, but moreso because he has been stuck with the label as being the black sheep. he sticks out like a sore thumb in his adoptive family, and people sympathize with him, but they’ve never seen him as him, lex. just as the pastor’s adoptive son, who was saved from a lifetime of ‘tragedy’.
my full application can be found here! fair warning he’s a bit more subdued & quiet than he normally would be, except, to set the scene, he’d just been Dumped with a capital D, and really wanted work, especially at high volume, so turned down the Asshole bit a little :~ )
PLOTS.
NOTE: all of the following are little tidbits & can be mixed and matched & ideated upon, these are just a few small lil ideas i wanted to throw out there to get the ball rolling!
someone who he got into an accident with? either … he hit them or they hit him or perhaps they were in a car picking up a delivery for jerry and got stranded in the middle of nowhere and now he/your muse/both of them have to save up money to get the vehicle repaired! yoinks!
the one who showed him the ropes, who maybe knows a little more about why lex wants to work at high volume than others do. one or two questions that were a little outside of the scope of the work was all it took for your muse to notice that lex has a list of some pretty niche titles he’s looking for.
designated drive-in, lex is a secret movie junkie — and while he’ll criticize films while they’re rolling, he actually really enjoys the distractions. your muse and lex probably frequent the drive-in together. maybe they’ll split a popcorn and a pepsi from time to time.
backrow bestie, for the other lost soul who might have also been forced to attend church service every sunday growing up. exchanging books, whispers, games, and jokes in the back row of the pew — lex probably thinks that your muse was the best part about going to church. bonus points if they’re not really close anymore. but also bonus points if they are, because i’m torn and this could be fun either way.
bicker buds, because it would be record store employees who all believe that they have the best taste in music. when these two are on shift together, they’re always fighting about what’s playing on the overhead speakers.
is that my shirt? their loads at the laundromat got mixed up, and they went home with a few of each others’ items. oops. they’ll be lucky if they have his corduroy jacket — it’s a nice one.
fwb. they always find each other at the end of drunken nights at the mean-eyed cat bar. he’s not exactly boyfriend material, so he likely won’t be staying to cuddle afterwards.
our potential? limitless. drama? my middle name. angst? my favorite course. i will take & brainstorm any and all ideas please. feed me, and i promise, i will feed you too.
OOC.
litch rally … people, my dm’s (discord preferred, though i will certainly roll w tumblr for you if you prefer!) are wide open. like, best buy on black friday open. to chat w you, plot w you, talk about tv shows, play games, whatever. i love making lil edits & fun things, hit me up if you ever need photoshop help! :~ )
lastly, i will be a little awol til wednesday, as i’m going on a short 2-day trip to apartment hunt, but i will be back ready to bombard y’alls dms as soon as i’m back !!!
nisa isn’t dragging her feet. really, she’s doing everything she can to get to high volume. it’s not her fault that the cleanup effort is starting at the crack of dawn, or that she doesn’t have a way to get there on her own, or that she has nothing to wear despite trying on half the garments in her overflowing closet. it’s just happenstance that the album she put on while she was getting ready is actually really good so she can’t leave before she finishes it and if that ends up taking so long that lex gets tired of waiting for her and just leaves, well, she can’t stop him. okay, nisa’s dragging her feet.
she’s seated on the edge of her bed, one leg folded under her, as she thumbs through a book she borrowed from kennedy, distracted from her task of getting dressed by the annotations in the margins. she hasn’t gotten further than her bra and a pair of jeans when she hears the door open. her heart jumps into her throat for a second at the intrusion, but drops again when she hears lex’s voice. “i’m coming.” she calls back, annoyance seeping into her tone. reaching for a shirt on her floor to tug on as his footsteps approach her bedroom, nisa lets out an exasperated huff. “jesus, lex, gimme a second. ever heard of patience?” stumbling slightly as her head gets caught in her t-shirt, the setback means she reaches her door almost fully dressed (her shirt’s on backwards) at the same time lex pauses in the doorway. “i’m getting dressed i’ll be out when i’m ready. but please make yourself at home,” she drawls sarcastically, if him letting himself into her apartment wasn’t enough.
there’s a lot someone’s home can say about them. take lex’s room, for example –––– it’s bare, it’s empty. he hasn’t got a lot of things. he says its light: easy to keep track of, and he could sure as hell load his truck with everything he had and skip town without leaving a single belonging. he hasn’t got posters –––– call it a habit he’d taken from the pastor’s house, where none of the bands he’d listened to at the time would be considered appropriate to idolize, to put on his walls. and maybe, if he’d looked closer at nisa’s place, maybe soaked in the decorations, heard the music she was playing, maybe he’d understand more about her. thing is, lex is a little stuck in his ways when it comes to judgments. figures that if the whole town makes them about him, he’s allowed to make them about others. or something.
he hasn’t been in her apartment for but a second before he hears nisa’s classic irritated tone. truth be told, he doesn’t think he’s heard her ever say something to him that hasn’t been drenched in vexation –––– that, or sarcasm. today is clearly nothing different.
lex leans up against the wall near the door, as if he’s intimidated by stepping further into nisa’s … lair. “ever heard of being on time?” he quips back, figuring punctuality is the simplest sign of respect. cue an eyeroll, a folding of arms against his chest. “if telling me to make myself at home is any indication that you’re going to more than two more minutes, nisa, i swear to god ––––” but realistically, what could he do? jerry’s … gone, for the foreseeable future, and that was the best case scenario. “just … hurry up. your place smells like … materialism.”
those words hit marty like a bag of bricks and they can’t help but stand up. it’s as if they need to physically put some distance between them and lex.
and just like that, the feelings of not being enough just swim to the surface and bang themselves against their chest, begging to be let out. they had not been enough for their father to stay, they had not been enough for their mother to choose them over some man she barely knew, they had not been enough for alyssa to swerve away from a decision that would hurt them and they had clearly not been enough for lex to not think with his dick for one fucking night.
“what? no, no, you — ” those words leave marty’s lips in a vain attempt to change what is a heart-shattering reality. they want to say ‘you wouldn’t do that to me’ but nothing of the sort comes out. instead, just words wrapped in disbelief towards a betrayal they never saw coming. “you — you slept with her?”
they shake their head. marty doesn’t even know if it’s sadness or anger that is bubbling inside of her. they scoff before they start to speak. “i told you what happened between us, i told you — i told you how much she fucking meant to me and you —” marty can’t even finish their sentence before they feel tears wanting to come out.
“you said it wouldn’t happen again.” that’s what hurt the most. the fact that lex knew so much about marty and their mind, their shared issues and he still did it. she still didn’t mean enough for him to just stop. “you just either fucking lied to me or you didn’t even care as long as you got your dick sucked, right?”
he’s been a stranger to tears for a while, the feeling of white-hot heat starting fires behind his eyes, the way his throat closes up because he can’t breathe, knowing what he’s putting his friend into. and that’s just it –––– marty isn’t just a friend. they’re kindred souls, ones who have been forced to endure the same symphony of neglect over and over again, bound to their chairs. the only small morsel of comfort in their hellish lives comes in the form of company. that even when it hurts to admit he’d never knew his father’s name, he knows they’d understand what sort of hole had been bored in his heart. it’d been lex and marty, drinking under the stars, wanting to write a new script for their lives, to escape the confines of the cards they’d been dealt with.
one look in their eyes. it’s all he needs to realize he’s thrown it all away.
because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants in one miserable moment of weakness. “marty, i’m sorry,” he says –––– it’s almost a pleading tone, except it isn’t. because deep down, he knows he doesn’t deserve the forgiveness.
part of him screams in pain, shouting in whatever conscious mind he can find at this point, to hold onto marty’s friendship for dear life ––––– because as much as he’d like to admit how independent he is, he can’t imagine woodstock without marty. but his tongue is dry. he doesn’t have the words to explain to them how shitty this feels. “it was a mistake, a drunk mistake. i shouldn’t have … i shouldn’t have done it.” but i still did.
a tear sheds –––– it falls quickly, as if it knows that lex doesn’t typically want to look vulnerable, ever. the thing is, marty knows the ins and outs of the barricade that guards his heart. they know the path through his ribcage, knows how to pierce the tender tissue easily. he’s given her the weapons, the keys, and now the motive. and truthfully, he doesn’t know what to say. “please, marty –––– i know. i know, it’s not like that, i didn’t … i didn’t lie to you, i never wanted to hurt you.” his voice is hoarse, barely audible. brown eyes can barely see through the puddles that have flooded in his eyes.
“i’m sorry.”
he’s a broken record at this point, and god, he wishes he weren’t so shit at apologies.
late nights with lex, surrounded by all the seediest strangers they could want to call friends. life in woodstock wasn’t always easy, but these were the moments that get christian through the days. at lex’s whine, he laughed out loud, more vibrant than he ever would sober, and shook his head. “give me a fucking second to get it out, man, patience is a–” he cut off when lex proposed his bet. now that was interesting. “say no more,” christian stood to his feet and meandered a roundabout path to the darts in the corner of the room. on the way, though, something hit him. pausing, he turned to lex, “wait, what do you know? to tell me?”
if he were sober enough to understand that christian was about to admit something without a price, he would have backtracked, maybe begged christian to tell him anyway. but nothing has ever been so easy –––– they’ve logged dozens of hours in the back row of the church, making bets with each other for anything. good snacks, the other’s gameboy games for a week, a basket of fries at freddy’s. something like a secret feels a lot more valuable than that. “knew you were always a man up for the challenge. don’t go soft on me,” he says, even though he should have known christian had given him a little tease for a reason. maybe he wants to tell lex. “uh uh! that’s not how this works –––– i can’t just tell you what i know, that’s my leverage in all of this.” he pulls the darts out of the board, handing half of them to his opponent. “may the best man win.”
THERE’S AN UNIDENTIFIED TYPE OF PRESSURE on maxine’s chest, and she’s determined to eradicate it. she has her suspicions — between every mistake she made at dreamscape, the fire, the entire jerry case growing more convoluted with every passing day .. everyone must be feeling that knot in their chest right now.
maxine will be the first to admit that lex is a rather odd, seemingly even random, choice for a friend to seek out on a monday afternoon, but max hasn’t seen the store since before the fire and things between her and lex have been left as awkward as ever, things left unsaid or forgotten. plus, what’s really weighing on maxine’s conscience is the fact that blair and her kissed — and whilst blair and lex have been broken up for quite some time, and max doesn’t even know half of their story, she knows firsthand how shitty it is to hear such news from someone else.
besides, she’s really starting to warm up to lex. she’d be a fool not to pursue a friendship when they’re so rare for a shy girl like herself.
though it’s not even her shift, max swings by, chocolate milkshake in one hand and her own strawberry milkshake in the other, and lets her gaze wander once she enters the store. it looks the same, really, hiding what must be a scorched back room, but she doesn’t get to turn the corner before her eyes find lex. « hey, » she calls out, voice friendly as she offers half a smile. « happy monday. » she raises the milkshake in invitation, beckoning him to come get it.
there’s a few different types of categories he’d put the employees at high volume into. a certain few fall into the ‘avoid’ box –––– nisa, if he’s not dragging her into actually doing her work. blair, for obvious reasons, though slowly they’ve moved closer and closer to somewhat of a truce. there are friends: christian, who he’s always felt light and easy around. talia, who he, dare he says it, feels closest to. marty … though perhaps they might not agree with the whole ‘friend’ label as of now. it’s a delicate balance, knowing how tight knit the employees at high volume are, to navigate relationships –––– and even though lex and max aren’t best buddies, she’s one he’d rather have on his side.
he’s barely been able to recall their drunken encounters, but remembers leaving it feeling a little blossom of warmth in his hands. call it … hope, but with arguments, fires, and plans of disguise in the works, lex knows that nurturing this friendship with max is something he doesn’t want to lose.
he’s already lost enough. he’s tired of losing.
“is that for me?” he asks, a brow raising. he leaves his post by the counter –––– the store isn’t busy, and he can’t imagine the girl in the polka-dot cardigan in the corner trying to steal from the register. “um … thank you. what’s the occasion? didn’t … think you worked today.”
it’s not that he’s been … avoiding max, per say. he just doesn’t quite … know where they stand. if they’re close enough to joke around during their shifts, to hang out without it being weird to christian. he doesn’t even know how him and maxine have been –––– so truly, how close can they be? “how’d you know i’d kill for a chocolate milkshake right now? lucky guess?”
– THERE’S NO REASON THE CAR SHOULD BE FAMILIAR TO HER. after all, lex bought it after she left, fixed it up, made it his own – all without her. and yet, she can’t help but feel like she’s been here before as her eyes scan the rips on the seats, the peeling fabric above the ashtray. why does she feel like she could’ve used it once, ashing a cigarette in the passenger seat of his car with her shoes up on the dashboard ? she hasn’t done that, of course, nothing about the vision she sees in her head is real, and it’s been a long time since she’s heard him laugh. yet, something about sitting in this car makes her feel like she can hear it ringing in her ears like it was yesterday.
blair just feels like she knows it here, even though she shouldn’t know it at all. after all, she doesn’t belong here : this place is his, and sure, the last time she was in woodstock, every place was his and hers, but it’s not like that now. she has no right to feel like she has memories here, even imaginary ones. that thought leaves an achy feeling in her chest that reminds her why she’d wanted to avoid lex in the first place.
“ yeah, i did mean something like that, ” she says, a sort of laugh escaping her lips as he describes the car’s finer features. it’s just nice to her – blair has a newfound appreciation for things that aren’t pretending to be more glamorous than they are after her years in l.a. and lex’s truck is certainly not masquerading around as anything more than what it is. she’s fallen for the glitz and glamour of something that looks pretty and talks the talk, knows what it’s like to be burned by expectations. “ besides, a half-working radio is better than nothing. she’s doing her best, lex, ” blair says, anthropomorphizing his car.
it’s possible that she’s spoken too soon about her fondness for the car, but she’s the one still waiting inside out of the rain while lex comes back, about as drenched as she is now. blair’s stone-faced, able to keep from wincing at the harshness of his tone. how is she not used to that by now ? why does it still feel so out of character when it’s pretty much all she knows of lex now ? “ i was just ASKING, jeez, no need to bite my head off, ” blair rolls her eyes, leaning back against the seat.
she looks straight ahead, feeling his eyes on her. her heartbeat races as his voice softens, trying to resist the temptation to turn her head. but of course, she’s never been good with temptation, addicted to all of her little vices, so she turns, side of her head still resting against the seat rest. there’s no animosity in the blue of her eyes when she looks into the warmth of his, nodding her head. she thinks this would be a pretty clever move to pull with a girl, that this car could actually make a great wingman, but she bites back the joke on the tip of her tongue because she can’t joke like that with lex any more. “ well, it’s a good thing i like your car, then, ” is what she says instead.
his admission feels like a peace offering, something they haven’t managed to breach in the months since she’s been back. it feels good, though – better than screaming in the middle of a field, anyway. “ yeah, i guess we were both pretty out of it. i was on my stupidest behavior all night anyway, ” lex had just been the start of it. blair doesn’t expect so much clarification from lex, which is probably why she can’t help the short laugh that escapes her as he stumbles over his words. there’s something about how earnest he is in this moment that’s exactly what she remembers about him, and while it should set off warning bells, she lowers her guard against her better judgement. “ it’s okay, i get it, ” she reassures, “ and i didn’t tell jamie. don’t worry. ” mostly because she’d been afraid that her voice would betray her if she’d recounted the memory for him, but lex doesn’t need to know that.
“ oh my god ! ” blair exclaims incredulously, “ it’s dreamscape, it’s not like i was less ridiculous in that big sparkly cloak. ” she sighs in an overdramatic fashion, finding comfort in the way he grins at her cheekily. “ it’s not like i was less ridiculous, in that big sparkly cloak. “ not everyone dresses as boring as YOU do, lex. ”
he hears a semblance of her laugh echo amongst the sound of the pitter-pattering of rain and he allows himself to take half a moment to wonder: what life these past few months might have looked like if this was what their first conversation was like, instead of the icy exterior he’d so carefully crafted. lex should have known that blair, as smart as she was, with the personal knowledge of chase lexington that she did, would figure out the vulnerabilities behind the facade.
he’s missed her laugh –––– he’d missed being the one to try and get her to smile.
but every time he hears her laugh or chuckle, he’s reminded of memories that have been scorched by a pain he can’t forget. it’s impossible to push the soreness away, especially when she’s sitting here, in the front seat of his car. he wonders if her eyes need to find courage to look at him, the same way he does. but if he knows her even a fraction of the way he once did, blair shapiro’s got a healthy reserve of it, tucked behind her sharp tongue. “you can thank ethan for every last good thing that has happened to this car –––– i swear that guy’s a natural with the whole … repair thing. she’d be nothing without him,” he says nonchalantly. it’s easier to talk about anyone except himself with blair.
it’s as if fate understands the unruly teetering motion of scales that exists between lex and blair –––– the one that makes sure that she doesn’t get too close. because just like that, they’ve found the bite again. it’s never been so easy to fire back with someone, maybe save the pastor. the difference with blair is that she’s known him –––– seen him, at his core. she’s peeled back layers that still feel tender, ones so close to his heart, she knows how it beats. and that’s what makes him so fucking terrified.
he stays silent ––– or at least, only offers a small huff. and she does something that makes him curse fate itself. she says something he relates to, and he can almost feel the temperature of the air between them warm again. “i’m pretty sure my jackass idiot behavior trumps your stupidest one,” he chuckles –––– and the way his heart seizes reminds him that there is a significant part of lex’s heart that still cares of what blair thinks of him. because god, once blair found out about what he’d done to marty, he’s pretty sure he’ll never feel this warmth again. so yes, maybe it’s selfish, the way that he cherishes her … presumed kindness for now. he’s not sure how much he’ll get. “thank you. he’s … going through enough as it is.”
“ridiculous … no, i don’t think anyone could beat that guy. maybe that one guy who dressed up in a carrot outfit, that one from senior year?” he begins to smile, to chuckle, but he’s caught off guard by the way recollecting that memory doesn’t hurt in the same way it once did. “some of us don’t want the spotlight, blair,” lex counters –––– it’s a fact he’s certain that she knows about him. “so yes, black jumpsuit was a carefully selected choice. though maybe i should go for the camouflage one next time,” he jokes, though the thought of rehashing anything related to his so-called spotlight feels a little too sore of a subject to resurface now. so he’s quick to find something else to talk about –––– making sure blair’s aversion to silence doesn’t turn down the avenue of abandonment issue boulevard.
“big sparkly cloak, though –––– that an l.a. thing?”
she knew he would be here - his name was written on the schedule in front of her face while clocking in not even five minutes prior . it was inevitable they’d run into each other . if not at work then around town - no one stays MIA for long in woodstock unless your name starts with a ‘ j ’ and ends in ‘ erry gordon ’ . she even prepared an apology . after realizing how badly she fucked up she agonized over a plan to hopefully salvage their friendship . all this to say , she should’ve been prepared for this . and yet mack remains shocked when faced with lex for the first time since their dreamscape quarrel . the trash bag in hand , and her whole reason for heading out back , is forgotten as she watches him stumble back . clearly she’s making a great head start at redeeming herself .
when he fires off something that sounds a little too much like spite mack has the audacity to flinch . after every hurtful thing she said the other night , she dares to feel wounded when her own accusations are repeated back at her . “yeah okay … i guess i had that one coming ,” she concedes while looking anywhere but in his eyes . taking a deep intake of breath , mack musters up all the courage she can to put her pride aside and say something helpful rather than hurtful . “um , i actually have something for you … it’s not this trash . actually , i need to throw this out , excuse me .” she squeezes past him to reach the dumpster and finish the job before returning to the door . her head jerks as a gesture for him to follow her inside . “humor me for just a sec ? then if you still hate me i’ll just leave you alone forever , it’s fine .” it’s not . she’ll be heartbroken if he really hates her . but she can’t say that she’d blame him if he did .
he’s almost surprised when she doesn’t respond back with a bite as bitter as his –––– then again, lex isn’t exactly attuned to what forgiveness sounds like. countless quarrels with the pastor often ended in screaming matches, with neither lex nor his adoptive father ever feeling like they were in a safe place to concede. he’d be mocked, he’d be lectured with the classic i told you so –––– so mack’s softer tone is one that catches him off-guard. “honestly, i … wasn’t even sure you remembered that conversation, so …”
he could learn a thing or two about apologies, about clemency. about admitting that the walls he’d tried to build around his heart were made more of styrofoam than concrete.
maybe there was a little bit of calculated information withholding, but it was always because he wanted to run away from the past that didn’t feel quite him. the pastor was the shroud, the force that tacked the word franklin onto his name without his consent. he pauses –––– a past version of lex would have fired some sort of pointed comment back at her. but he’s tired. he’s tired of losing people when they finally become important in his life. moreover, he’s scared –––– that he’ll prove to be the unlovable failure the pastor had labeled him when he walked out the door for the very last time. jerry’s disappearance, the fire –––– it’s all put into perspective how actually self-destructive the walls he’d put up were. they were keeping people out for all the wrong reasons. “okay,” he says gently, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. he follows her back inside the building, pausing for a moment, as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “for the record, i don’t. hate you, i mean.”
IT’S NOT THAT lex doesn’t matter to teddy. no, teddy doesn’t think so lowly of people, much less his coworkers; it’s just that other things in his life feel so overwhelming that it makes everything feel minuscule in comparison. anxious fingers drum against the coffee cup as he sits at the cash register, shoulders slumped forward as if the bags under his eyes are DRAGGING his entire body to the floor with them. there’s a few people in the store, mindlessly looking around, fingers delicate as they flick through the records in various bins.
none of these people know where the owner is. there are three people in the world that can be pretty certain about his whereabouts: one is teddy, who witnessed his murder. the second is kem, who teddy told in the midst of a nervous breakdown. third is, well, the shooter.
and things haven’t gotten easier— they say time heals most things but not this. it’s like teddy can feel the anxiety manifesting in his fingertips, buzzing, desperate to be felt in a vessel that’s otherwise numb, exhausted, mortified. lex’s voice almost sounds distant when he hears it and teddy physically snaps out of whatever sleep deprived trance he has dipped into. attention is diverted to the other male and he instinctively straightens his posture. seated on a stool, teddy’s notably shorter than lex in this specific scenario, which is almost poetic in a way.
a crease forms between his brows and his lips part at lex’s words. it’s not necessarily what teddy had been expecting from lex; if anything, he’d expect a mere snarky remark and that’s about it. his head cocks to the side in intrigue— he can’t think of what he could be apologizing for, not when teddy has taken on the weighted burden of guilt on his back. he blinks a few times and takes a sip of his coffee. "uh– apologize?“ he clarifies. "i mean, uh–” gaze shifts to the customers, who aren’t coming up for a while. teddy can just tell. "uh, sure. SURE, i guess.“
the value of friendship is something new to lex that he’s been faced with interestingly a lot over the past few weeks: the scary conclusion that jerry is gone and won’t be coming back (for what, lex would ask himself –––– employees he barely knew?) ignites a thought process in lex’s mind that won’t stop churning. especially, when paired with his own drunken decisions.
teddy is a face that lex had filed in his mind with a feeling of scorn. teddy had something, something that lex, in his shuffled, disarrayed mind was linked to the one thing that he always felt like he could latch onto. its the one thing that he has that feels even remotely like a purpose. something to work toward, something with an end goal that isn’t just get out of woodstock. it’s tangible. it feels obtainable –––– and even more, something in lex wonders if finding her songs and listening through the one vessel she’s left him, that maybe he’ll finally understand something about her he hadn’t when she’d chosen to leave him.
but none of it is teddy’s fault. and jerry’s disappearance and the fallout from dreamscape have left him feeling guilty about a lot of things. “yeah,” he says, a shameful shrug rises from his shoulders, eyes are tired –––– perhaps not as fatigued as teddy’s though. the guy looks like he hasn’t so much as seen a bed in days. “i’m not … always an ass. i try not to be, but … i was. to you, at dreamscape. but you gave me some good advice even though i wasn’t exactly friendly back to you.”
he bites his lip –––– he can’t say he’s doled out a lot of apologies in the past, mostly because the people in this town don’t really deserve them. “anyway, um … i’m trying to say that i’m sorry. because you didn’t deserve it. me, being a jerk, i mean.” a pause –––– he’s trying to assess the damage, to tease out what teddy might feel towards lex. but he figures he might as well try to rebuild the bridge entirely: lord knows he’s been burning too many lately. “you never deserved it, and i was … an asshole, putting it lightly. and i’m sorry.”
@dirtbvgs // no one would be surprised to find christian tibayan and lex franklin at the mean eyed cat bar. if there was anywhere in woodstock where they belonged, it was one of the seediest places in town. christian was right at home, one arm braced against the bar, the other bringing a drink to his lips for the…who knew how many long pulls of liquor he’d had. tonight wasn’t about remembering. well, until it was. he turned to lex, his eyes wide with recollection. “i know something.”
looking back, woodstock should have known the fate of these two darling boys the moment they brought a rock ‘em sock ‘em set into the church session when lex’s dear adoptive father was holding a sermon on peace and nonviolence. it’s truly no surprise that they’re here, hunched over the bar. if anything, forgetting has become the only way he can numb the pain. everywhere he looks, there’s something, someone broken that he’s found his fingerprints on. christian offers something enticing, exciting. first alcohol, now secrets. “you can’t just … say that, and not elaborate,” he whines –––– lex himself is half-full by whiskey alone. “nothing comes for free with you, though, tibayan. tell you what, we’ll make it interesting. darts –––– i win, you have to tell me. you win … i tell you something, too.” he wiggles an eyebrow. christian has never turned him down from a challenge.
STATUS: closed, ft. @nisafm
LOCATION: nisa & kennedy’s place !
lex has never been the type to volunteer for things. he’d always sat in the back of class, no teacher would ever ask him to hand out papers, and even during church service, he’d only been roped into things when his adoptive parents practically forced him into community service. he’s not really one to give back to a community that looks at him in pity, actually. but volunteering to clean up high volume, somewhat of a safe haven in the hellfire that is woodstock –––– he’s there, in the morning. and what better way to corral extra hands in cleaning up the place than guilting nisa into coming in with him.
lex pulls into the driveway, present to solve her timely excuse of not having a ride. conveniently, for lex, he’s got a truck, and kennedy and nisa’s place is on his way. except, he’s been sitting on her stoop for a good ten minutes, and nisa still isn’t out –––– god, she better not be finding a way out of this one, too. he knocks: no answer. “nisa, i’ve been waiting outside for like, ten minutes. what the hell is taking so long?” he tries the handle –––– and it opens. call it fear, but with everything happening with jerry’s disappearance, there’s part of him that worries that something has happened. “i’m coming in,” he calls out, hoping one of them will hear him. “nisa, i swear if you’re laying in bed still, i’ll drag you to high volume myself.”
talia woke up the day after dreamscape with a pit in her stomach. she stayed in bed for a while, gazing up at her ceiling and trying to recount every memory of the night prior, but mostly one glaring one came to the forefront of her mind. talia often didn’t read signs too well — but maybe this was the brightest one thus far. the one that told talia there wasn’t even the slightest remnant of romantic feelings returned on lex’s side, the months she’d spend stupidly hoping maybe he’d kiss her on one of their drive in movie nights — that all of it was in her head. combine that with the guilt she had over even thinking of lex romantically when blair was in town — maybe … maybe it was time to try and move on.
but how could talia try to unlearn looking at lex as if he wasn’t a gem of a person ? one of the best people she knew.
it’s not long before she crawled out of bed and decided she needed fresh air — maybe a coffee to start her morning, and a short bike ride through town left her at freddy’s. which was weird on its own because — here’s the thing, talia knew lex. she knew his habits after years of friendship, the way he’d hesitate when he was about to do something that could leave him a little vulnerable, the way he sounded when he was trying not to laugh — so she knew he sought the comfort of blueberry pancakes when the world was just a little too heavy on his shoulders. ( she’d spent countless mornings there with him, eating chocolate chip pancakes across from him just so he didn’t have to be alone right after blair had left. )
so while it’s not a surprise when she saw him in the booth in the back, talia still felt her heart squeeze the same way when it came to chase lexington. no — no, stop that, talia thought, before taking a deep breath and walking over to him. god did he even want to see her ?
when their eyes met, talia offered a small smile and a wave, taking the seat across from him when he offered. her eyebrows furrowed for a second at his words — ❛ you looked for me ? ❜ she asked before she could think, the wheels in her mind starting to turn. was this before or after she’d seen him kissing someone else ? was it all just fun with talia until he found someone he was actually interested in ? it made her feel a little insecure — a little shy as she fiddled with the wires from her headphones. ❛ i looked for you too but — but i also couldn’t find you. but um, it seemed like you had a nice night, right ? apart from marty telling me you both fought someone i — are you okay ? want to tell me their name so i could rough them up too ? i’ve heard i have a mean right hook. ❜ talia teased with a little grin, trying to elicit some kind of smile from him as her eyes fell to his pancakes before meeting his eyes once more.
he plays with a stray blueberry that hasn’t been melted into the pancake batter, pushing it around with his fork. he should know better than to think he could sulk in this corner booth with a short stack of pancakes without talia figuring he felt off. what’s slightly comforting is that he knows, maybe, in the back of his mind, that she won’t push. they never did: she hadn’t with his paper, she hadn’t when they’d take the long way home from the drive-in after watching a movie about a child losing their mother.
it’s not that he doesn’t trust her, it’s more that he’s ashamed.
he’s afraid. that maybe, if she knew the real chase lexington, the one who hadn’t learned how to stand up to the pastor until someone else had done so first, she wouldn’t find him brave. maybe, if she new the real him, the one who couldn’t pull the grades or funds together to try and go to trade school, she wouldn’t find him smart. if she knew who he really was, the type of guy who couldn’t even be loyal to his friends when pissed drunk, she wouldn’t want to be here, sitting across from him, with that familiar small smile tugging at her lips.
the fact of the matter is that lex never thought he deserved talia as a friend. but with everyone else on their way out –––– marty, ethan, mack, blair –––– he holds onto talia like a lifeline. lord knows why she looks at him and doesn’t let him go.
“yeah, of course ––––– i felt … bad, after i couldn’t find you, considering we had a deal. that we’d both try and have fun, right?” that was before his vices found their familiar grasp and dragged him another way. “that … was nothing, i … bobby rutters,” he sighs. he’d rather not rehash the lowest lows of middle school now. “he’s an asshole, and marty and i just threw a punch or two. not quite brawl you might be thinking of. i promise, i’m okay.” he shows her his knuckles ––––– they’re not even bruised.
he manages to bring another bite to his lips, the sweetness of the syrup somehow feels medicinal to the ails in his chest. “i kind of … blacked out, some of the night. somehow ended up walking nellie home, slept on her floor. hope you got home okay –––– figure the fact that you got here means you did?” he gestures to her bike outside the window.
Send me a ☄ for a lighthearted headcanon about our muses
lex kind of … freaked out when it came to going to a school dance with reyna during his freshman year of school. he’d never really been one to go to them in the past –––– dancing around with classmates who looked at him like he was an alien or something was not really his ‘scene’. secretly, he’d wanted to go: to get to go to a normal thing that normal teenagers did. he wasn’t sure if he needed to like, buy a corsage or come in a suit, or anything. he kind of tried to overhear what conversations moms and their teenaged sons would have at the stores to try and figure out what he had to do. needless to say, he didn’t bring reyna the most gorgeous floral arrangement for her wrist, but he tried.
kem had been at work for a couple hours, attempting to get on with it, but things weren’t exactly going to plan. he’d barely spoken to the customers who’d come in, shown them to the wrong sections of the store when he did. he’s just not quite all there today and words aren’t really coming out when his thoughts are going a mile a minute. so, he bailed, told whoever was in he had an emergency to deal with at home and got out. shift.
of course, he’s not going home, so he’s slow to move his feet away from the store, mentally cursing himself that he couldn’t just finish his shift. so, when he does move, he’s not paying much attention and collides with another person, the bump pausing his thoughts for a moment as he perches down. “ fuck, my bad. ”
the safety box. it’s the box of stray records that have looked like they’ve needed filing, or need new price tags, or have gotten mixed up by customers who feel like discarding a find last-minute, and decided to throw a radiohead record next to the fleetwood mac ones. it’s the one he’s told max about, the one that he could pick up and bring to one of the storage rooms whenever he’s not necessarily feeling in the mindset to help customers to at least appear like he’s working.
“nah, man, that was all me.” he sets down the safety box –––– there’s not much use for it anyhow, now: not that jerry, or any of the others would ever really micro-manage him, or anyone else, for that matter. “you good, dude?” he asks, a warm glint in brown eyes that typically avoid others’ gazes, if not dressed with an icy glare. “seems like you could use another cup of coffee. or a break, or a nap –––– or … all three. i got it out here, dude, if you need to take a breather.”
– BLAIR’S NEVER BEEN PARTICULARLY GOOD WITH THE QUIET. of course, if lex manages to remember that about her then he’d know that. sure, there were times that they used to sit in comfortable silence, something that she’d started to get used to with him. whether it’d be late at night, curled up at his side, or in the middle of the day, eyes up at the clouds as they sprawled out in an open field. still, it’s always blair’s inclination to fill it, whether to put on music or to say the first thing that comes into her mind. maybe this is a side effect of growing up in an empty house, the last one left after her siblings have flown the coop, doing anything to make some noise – to be noticed. she feels that way in lex’s car now, arms wrapped around herself. anything would be better than the quiet.
even fighting. there’s a small smirk that crosses her lips at lex’s expected jab, his voice void of emotion. she’s come to expect that from him now, the on-schedule bitterness. “ yeah, well, my driver was busy, so it’s a good thing you’ve turned up, ” she jokes, leaning back against the seat. blair can’t look at him, it’s something she still finds difficult, so she watches the raindrops chase each other on the windowsill. “ anyways, i like it, ” she adds, her voice dipping into territory that’s a touch genuine, “ it’s got character. ” blair’s never been in lex’s car before, but there is something about it that feels a bit home-y, comfortable. it’s probably the fact that it smells like him, and the realization makes her heart ache, lips pressed together tightly again as her smile fades once more.
old led zeppelin on the radio doesn’t help. blair always wanted to lose her virginity to led zeppelin – she thought they had the sexiest sound. she told lex that after they’d done it, then having to explain that she’d purposefully omitted her level experience and she’d been a virgin with him after all. it had been such an ordeal then, but it’s a memory she could laugh at now. except for the fact no one she’d ever gotten naked for since looked at her the way lex did. she doesn’t think she could laugh about that. blair’s glad he turns the radio off.
“ what the fuck ? ” furrows her brow when the car all but gives up, an apt metaphor for their relationship. blair’s got to eat her words about liking his car now. she contemplates walking the rest of the way, it wouldn’t be impossible, but thunder crashes loudly and rain starts beating down on the hood even harder than before, so she just folds her arms over her chest and looks straight ahead. “ did he say it would take long ? ” she asks, a touch of impatience in her voice that’s not really appropriate for someone that’s being done a favor. but can she really be blamed for not wanting to sit in a car with lex when she can hardly look him in the eye ?
the silence goes on, and she’s not really good with that. before she can even think twice about it, she already knows she’s going to blurt something out.
“ about the other night…at dreamscape. i was really fucked up, so. i would just…forget everything i said anyway, it was stupid. dance with whoever you want, obviously, ” a wry smile crosses her lips. she does remember that much.
he can’t say exactly what sort of instinct has changed between now, and a few days ago, when the sight of blair’s frustratingly blue eyes would elicit a quick turn of the heel and a running start toward the hills. he’s let her into his car –––– for a while, it had represented a new chapter in woodstock: it gave him autonomy, to get away from his suffocating parents, shelter, from pouring rain like this and snowstorms that’d hit in the winter, a safe place for friendships to blossom, whether in the form of bottomless popcorn at the drive-in with talia or talking about hardware and other nonsense while working on the engine with ethan.
and to let blair, of all people, into the passenger’s seat feels … scary. like it’s not just him letting her in for a ride home but into a world she was noticeably absent from. it feels like a new chapter, now –––– one that he doesn’t know where the story goes, or even where he hopes it’ll go. and that, in itself, is more terrifying than the fact that she may be scanning every scratch and piece of peeling fabric in his passion project of a car. it’s like she’s seeing him, every bump and bruise and open wound. he wonders if she notices, if she realizes what she’s seeing.
he manages a small chuckle. “chauffeur business better watch out,” he snorts, knowing full-well there are few vehicles in woodstock that are less luxurious than his truck. and it seems like she knows it, too. “if by character you mean a restored engine, a half-working radio, and mud in the back that’s so old it might be petrified, yeah –––– sure,” he laughs, but he manages to look over at blair for only a moment, to see if the subtle softness in her voice has a look to match. “bought it off that guy at the tow yard for a couple hundred bucks. was all i could afford at the time.”
he hops back into the car, the shoulders and hood of his sweater now drenched in water. lex investigates the water situation, how much coverage they have under this tree to hope that the water leaving the car outpaces the amount coming in. "you think i want to wait out here waiting too?” there’s a bit of impatience in his voice too: he’s gotten in the habit of matching his tone with hers. any wall you can build, i can build stronger.
he’s already been hurt, being the one to express feelings to her first.
lex sighs, the feeling in his chest pleads at him to not put up another fight. there’s a piece inside of him that reminds him that there’s nowhere to run if things go south. he gulps, eyes bravely moving from the safety of the wheel over to blair. he shrugs –––– defeated, in multiple senses. “i don’t know. depends on how hard the rain is coming down. which it is, but … i hope the tree kind of covers us a bit.” it’s logical, it’s objective. the last thing he wants to do is inject emotions into their conversation, even if what she says next finds a way to tug gently on his heartstrings.
“yeah, i was … really fucked up, too,” he says, figuring mirroring her actions is safe. he should have remembered how uncomfortable blair shapiro was with silence. it almost makes him smile –––– almost. maybe she hasn’t changed all that much. “you … you too. i … shouldn’t be saying anything, that’s … your business.”
but what he isn’t sure about is how precisely he remembers everything. what she said, what he had said. she brings up dancing, though, and he figures he can piece some of the night together. “reyna and i … we’re … we’re not ––––” he can hear reyna’s voice in his head telling him no. that the whole point of their little act was for people to believe it –––– and yet, his tongue keeps moving. “she’s just a friend. i … um … wouldn’t want to do that to jamie.” he makes a mental note –––– he’ll have to apologize to reyna later. “although … that guy. he did look like a fucking highlighter.” he snorts, he even smiles, doing anything to not to let the jealousy creep back into his chest.
