Lost

Drew Blair I'm just a lonely kid trying to find a reason to stay alive. I lost her and now I'm trying to get her back, any way I can. "But our love it was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we — Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling —my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea."

[losing-litha-blog]

Enter to Exit // Drew & Litha

[losing-litha-blog]

Litha carefully watched the figure as he made his way into the diner, eyes following him until he took a seat. It wasn’t a surprise to her when she realized she did not recognize the boy; she had been in Bentley well under a year and didn’t get out much. 

Instead of immediately approaching the boy as her boss often told her to do, she watched from afar, studying the apparent loner. Distance didn’t weaken the intensity of his blue eyes—between that and his curly brown hair, she was sure girls rolled over and begged for his attention. Rolling her eyes at the thought, Litha began to move from behind the counter, slender fingers trailing against the marble tabletop.

She stopped barely a few inches from the boy’s table, placing her hands on her hips. “Welcome to Betsy’s, clearly the busiest establishment in town,” she sighed, “I’m Litha, and i’ll be your server today. What can I get you?”

[drew-lostandalone]

Even though the napkin holder he was looking into was perfectly able to reflect the image of the woman from behind the counter walking towards him, Drew didn't notice her until she had spoken, too focused on distorting his face into weird and funny shapes. He jumped slightly when he heard her voice, turning around to face her quickly, a light blush coming across his cheeks as he realized she had to have seen that.

"Um, hi," he replied, a hand moving up to scratch the back of his head nervously. "Can I just have a coffee or something? Make it however you like, it doesn't really matter." Drew didn't really have a lot of cash on him so that was really all he could afford. He realized he might need to get a job eventually, but he figured he could do well enough without one for the moment. He gave the woman-Litha did she say?-a small, polite smile, manners always coming first.

[drew-lostandalone]

lucywithoutthelou:

Well, now I will start paying attention to whether or not people are holding cigarettes in their hands or not. Professional loner? I’m sorry if I ruined your lonesomeness then. It’s nice to meet you Drew, I’m Lucy. [Lucy takes his and and shakes it.]

[Drew chuckles and brings his hand back to shove into his pocket.] Well, I guess it's time that I start to break out a little. See the kind of company I've been missing, right? [He smirks lightly.] Likewise, Lucy.

[drew-lostandalone]

ghostcastille:

Yeah, I thought so. I know there’s a more, y’know, scientific explanation for it and everything, but it’s a pretty weird sensation. But they say your memory of a certain thing that’s happened gets hazier every time you recall it. I think it has something to do with that, but I’m not sure.

Maybe. I read somewhere that every time you think about a memory, it changes just the slightest bit so eventually it's so warped that it actually isn't even the original memory. I think that's pretty crazy.

[drew-lostandalone]

aidenarlon:

"Yeah, man, no problem." Aiden replied, handing the journal back to him, "I’m Aiden and I’m glad I could help."

"Um, yeah. I'm Drew," Drew introduced himself, only returning the gesture because he had always been taught to be polite and he wouldn't want to disappoint his grandmother in her grave, God rest her soul. If he even existed, which he doubted. He looked the other man up and down discreetly, studying him the way he did every stranger he met. And he'd been meeting a lot these past few days. "I'm lucky you noticed me drop it."

[drew-lostandalone]

ghostcastille:

That’s your nostalgia over-compensating. I usually do something that reminds me of something I used to do and it’s, like, a weird form of deja vu. 

That's an interesting theory. Ah, yes, deja vu, the strangest sense that you've done before what you're doing at a particular moment. When I was younger I used to think I was psychic when it happened. But then I found out that it happens to a lot of people.

[drew-lostandalone]

ghostcastille:

I’ve been getting that a lot too. I guess it just depends on the person.

Maybe. Me personally, I don't get it often but when it does happen it's strong.

[drew-lostandalone]

ghostcastille:

That’s pretty much the response I’ve been getting from everyone. I was just wondering. 

Well, I mean, everyone gets a little nostalgic from time to time. Whoever says they don't is lying.

[aidenarlon]

"Excuse me, did you drop this?"

[drew-lostandalone]

Drew turned around at the sound of the voice and saw a man standing there holding out his private journal. It must have fallen out of his back pants pocket without him noticing. Either that, or he'd been pickpocketed by the man. But he didn't want to jump to conclusions so hastily.

"Oh shit, thanks," he said, instantly moving to take the journal out of the man's hands. "I'd be lost without this."

[ghostcastille]

Oh my god, are you ever just— hit with these sudden memories of things you used to do as a child? Or is that just me being nostalgic?

[ghostcastille]

[drew-lostandalone]

Drew looked over at the male,  stranger to him, who seemed to be addressing him. "Um, yeah I guess," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "Pretty sure that's the definition of nostalgia."

[drew-lostandalone]

once-minnie-twice-shy:

Resisting the urge to shush the voices which sprang to her ears, those happy I told you so’s enough to make her shake her head as the blush of her cheeks only deepened. He had complemented her, honestly complemented her but something about it seemed odd. Her eyes bore holes into the ground as she fought for something to say, something to turn the attention from her. “You’re better.”

Drew shrugged a shoulder as the corner of his lips turned up in a small smile. "I don't think mimicking notes counts as talent," he pointed out in a soft voice. "I haven't played in a while, actually, I'm a bit rusty." There was definitely something off about the girl standing in front of him, but he couldn't exactly put his finger on what it was. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it was just...something. Maybe it was the way she practically shut herself down at one compliment, or the blush that crept across her cheeks every time he spoke a word to her, like it was dangerous to be interacting with him. Whatever it was, it only served to intrigue Drew further. "I'm Drew, by the way," he introduced himself, holding up a hand to wave awkwardly at the girl.

[drew-lostandalone]

lylafletcherjfc:

"Oh sorry. Here." She says as she puts them back down beside him. "You seem a lot more interested in whatever’s out there then the books." She says as she reached up to scratch the back of her neck. Since her sister died eight years ago she had practically shut everybody out, not really talking to people and keeping to herself. It was until recently that she started to come out of her shell.

"No, not really. Sorry for bothering you then." She says as she turns to walk away, grabbing the books she had put down when she came to the table. "I know how you feel. I’ve always been one to read then socialize."

"I could have been about to pick one up just as you came along," Drew pointed out, at this point just being difficult. He picked up one of the books as soon as the girl set them back down on the table, as if to prove his point. At her next remark, he looked back out of the window and sighed. "Yeah, a whole lot more interested in nothing than something," he said. 

Drew knew he was probably coming off as a jerk to her, but his attitude was simply a protective mechanism to keep people away from him and let him be a loner. He'd been alone ever since she was found dead and now he intended to keep it that way because nothing had ever mattered except her. As the girl turned away to leave, he turned back just to say, "The best part about books is they can take you anywhere that isn't where you are right now." 

[theanimalbeneaththecrown-deacti]

"Don’t" she bit her lip, her blush deepening at her own hurried words "I mean…I…" she was nervous, more so than ever for she didn’t have much to hide behind now. He’d seen a part of her that not many had and now she stood there open. "I don’t play. For others I mean…"

Rubbing the back of her head she stared at her feet hoping to anything that he’d move on and leave her be. Leave her to hide herself away in the obscurity that she sought.

[drew-lostandalone]

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you play rather well," Drew complimented her simply. And then the air turned awkward, if it hadn't been already, and he didn't know what else to say. She certainly wasn't contributing anymore to the conversation, it was obvious she'd rather be left alone. He could understand that, since he usually preferred the company of himself as well, but it was the way she seemed to isolate herself that bothered Drew. It was like she was actually afraid of other human interaction, whereas he just simply didn't care for it.

[drew-lostandalone]

once-minnie-twice-shy:

She didn’t notice him initially, in fact she had even smiled at the complementing tone of the guitar as they played. The music although sounding odd beautiful in many ways but when everything clicked her mind flew forward into self-consciousness causing her fingers stumbled to a startled stop.

She stood from the piano her movements jerky as she stared at the boy. He couldn’t be any older than she was but still his face was unfamiliar and that was more than enough to force cotton to rise in her throat. She didn’t know what to say or how to act so she simply stood there fidgeting with her hands. Staring downwards at her dirty fingers as a flush rose high in her cheeks, you’re an idiot a familiar voice sang between her ears. Daft little girl.

"S-Sorry." One word was all she said as her dark eyes were forced upwards to his, Marlo was nervous and everything about her showed it.

Drew became so tuned into the music that his fingers were creating, he didn't notice that some of the piano's notes went askew, but he did notice when it became only the sound of the guitar. He looked up and saw that the girl had stood up and was looking at him with such...fear and nervousness on her face that he felt almost bad that he'd intruded upon her.

"Oh, no, don't be," he insisted, setting the guitar back where he'd found it on its stand. He stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I should be apologizing to you, I  did kind of just barge in here and made myself comfortable."

[theanimalbeneaththecrown-deacti]

She played, the empty room filling with her music as finally the voices that murmured always quieted. She was finally alone, alone and comfortable.

[drew-lostandalone]

Drew was wandering around the town of Bentley, aimlessly as always, when he heard the faint sound of a piano ahead. Following the sound led him to the front of a music store. He didn't even know Bentley had a music store.

Upon entering, he realized that the only person inside was a woman about his age seated at the piano from where the haunting melody was coming from. She didn't even notice him enter the store, so immersed was she in her music. Drew debated on drawing her attention to his presence but then he caught his eye on the display of guitars in the corner and settled for a better idea.

Making his way to the guitar rack, he scanned over the options and chose a simple acoustic, sitting down and trying his best to imitate the tune that was coming from the piano.

[drew-lostandalone]

fuckingangela:

"The afterlife?" Angela grinned. "What makes you so sure that there is an afterlife? For all you know, death could be just nothingness… just a corpse lying in a hole in the dirt." She often fantasized about this sort of death, a death where she would just cease to exist, but no, she was stuck in Bentley… probably for eternity.

"Ahh," she breathed, nodding, "you’ve caught the flaw in my logic. You’re the quiet library freak who also happens to not be hideous. You defy everything I thought to be true about the way hot people function in the world." She rolled her eyes. This kid was making her roll her eyes a lot.

When Drew asked her about her hobbies, she furrowed her eyebrows. It wasn’t a question she was asked a lot, mostly because people in Bentley just knew not to ask. There seemed to be an unspoken consensus among everyone in town that whatever Angela did in her spare time, they didn’t want to know about it. “Oh, you know, the usual. Anal, killing girls in the woods, gouging my eyes out…” she said casually, as if it were all a big joke. Her eyes rested on the book in her hand. “And poetry. Until my summer homework is done, my biggest hobby is reading poetry,” she groaned.

Drew shrugged a shoulder, agreeing with Angela as he said, "You've got a point. But people have to have hope, right?" Truth be told, the scene that Angela described used to be what Drew believed to be waiting for everyone when they died. He had never believed in the afterlife or heaven or any of that nonsense. But now he wasn't so sure. He needed that hope now.

He didn't flinch at any of Angela's supposed hobbies that she listed off, instead simply raising his eyebrows with a look of amused disbelief. "Poetry, huh?" he said, that being the thing that most caught his attention. "Edgar Allan Poe and all of that? I could probably help with that, if you need it." Mentally, he was asking himself why he was still even talking to her, much less offering help. It wasn't in his nature to go around making friends, but he just let it go and attempted a friendly smile.

[drew-lostandalone]

lucywithoutthelou:

I did not know that. I also did not know there was such a thing as light cigarettes…I thought they were all the same, except you know some of those additives that different brands put in. No, I don’t, never even tried it, at least that I can remember. I don’t know, I’d say there’s still a good amount of people who don’t. But who knows, maybe I just don’t get out enough.

[shrugs a shoulder carelessly] Possibly, but I don't see many people without a cigarette in hand these days. Who knows, maybe it's me who doesn't get out much. [smirks and drops his cigarette, smashing it into the ground with the toe of his shoe] I guess I should introduce myself. The name's Drew. Professional loner. [extends a hand, intending a polite handshake]

[misguidedghostsrp]

Drew Blair ‖ 21 ‖ Living ‖ FC: Aaron Johnson ‖ OPEN

________________          BIOGRAPHY          ________________

PAST:

From the day Drew was born, he didn’t have it easy. His mother, Lucy, was only 17 when he was born. She did everything it took to care for her child. After his father decided he wanted nothing to do with them; she dropped out of high school, working two jobs while her mother took care of Drew. No matter how many hours she worked, money was always tight. Lucy was still a child herself, but she knew the importance of a good childhood. When she realized there just wasn’t enough money to take care of Drew, she resorted to stealing. It wasn’t long before Lucy was caught; Drew’s grandparents were awarded custody almost immediately. Lucy committed suicide during her first year of her sentence. The short, scribbled note that she had left stated she did all she could for her son, and couldn’t bear to live without him.

Drew grew up in the care of his grandparents, believing his mother had simply abandoned him. No matter how much love his grandparents gave him, Drew felt lost and confused; it wasn’t until he met Isabella that he truly felt cared for. The friendship started off small: occasional phone conversations, shared smiles in the hallways; but slowly evolved into a strong bond. Though she was his best friend, Isabella Martinez meant so much more to Drew; more than he ever had the chance to explain. Isabella was his closest friend, the one he trusted the most, but he could never form those three words: I love you.

By his sophomore year of college, he thought he was getting close; he was almost sure that somewhere in Isabella’s heart, she had feelings for him, too. After Isabella disappeared, Drew began to isolate himself from everything and everyone close to him. Drew became a ghost of his former self; he lost a large amount of weight, becoming gaunt and frail. His once comedic, charming demeanor no longer existed. Nothing mattered besides Isabella, and since she was gone, nothing mattered at all. By the time it was announced that Isabella’s body had been found, Drew had basically withered to nothing.

PRESENT:

Something changed drastically when Drew attended Isabella’s memorial. He had never been the religious type—nor had he believed in the paranormal, but he could’ve sworn he felt Isabella there with him. The feeling he had, though brief, gave him exactly what he needed: hope. Drew, now obsessed with the idea that Isabella could possibly be haunting him in the afterlife, goes to the Arlon property frequently; hoping to find any evidence of his first and only love.

CONNECTIONS

◆Was secretly in love with his now-deceased best friend, Isabella Martinez.

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