[stephcnie-blog]

   her senses were dulled. the succession of reactions following her initial,    compulsory greeting could only be explained by such a statement: her senses    were dulled. either that, or she was just stupid. or both. as he’d turned round to    face her, and as she took a step back, room seeming to swivel with the sight of him,    that was the only thought she had – her own mind-numbing stupidity. perhaps    stephanie had thought he was someone else. perhaps she’d known it was him and    simply wanted to make sure. after all, she’d seen him not even a year before for the    funeral – ezra’s presence in frey shouldn’t have been surprising. yet the memory    seemed to pierce her chest right then in an overwhelming bout of dizziness; her    drunk heart reopening the wound of two people she’d lost: her mother and her    husband. what was left of the smile she’d had seconds before increasingly    disappeared as her hand reached out to steady herself on the back of his chair.      stupidity.

   & she was – stupid for thinking that coming over here would have been anything    but distressing, for thinking that he would have been… not so… ezra. flagrant and      dismissive, brusque and… and… honestly, what the fuck?

   if stevie were to be brutally honest with herself for a moment, she could have admit    that she’d known it was him. a lifetime condensed into the span of ten years with a    person guaranteed that you’d never mistake them for someone else – if anything,    the likelihood that she saw him in other people was even greater. she probably    wouldn’t have been able to count on her fingers the amount of times she’d seen    someone in passing, either in the very bar they were currently at or simply walking    down the street (hell, in one of her classes there was a 20-something-year-old who    reminded her of ezra exactly), and committed a double-take. it was impossible not    to search for him. even seated, stevie noticed his height… the way chairs always    seemed to be too small for his legs, and if they weren’t then her feet would dangle,    toes just skimming the floor… his shoulders, broad and heavy; strong enough to    support his body over hers, panting as he’d move, and strong enough to carry her     to bed when she’d fall asleep at the table… his—

   how long had it been since he’d said hello? stevie hadn’t felt this lightheaded on    the way over to his table, and she wasn’t sure what brought the sensation on. she    swayed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling another second    pass before time caught up to her body. her gaze focused on him, her attention on    the way he’d said it – hi – before she rode the only emotion she could muster, aside      from embarrassment: a n g e r.

          ❛       who the fuck… why– don’t fucking look at me like that. it’s been                 months and all you have to say to me is– is hi? i thought you’d be past                       acting like a little… a little–

   she’d sputtered, rather than spoke, flaring up and acting out against all thoughts    that told her otherwise. then, when words failed her, and before she could even      make the decision to, stevie slapped him.

   — tried to slap him. her trajectory was off, hand-eye coordination failing her, and    what she imagined was smooth exacted itself poorly. her body lurched forward to    reach him & still she missed – it was more of a scratch really, as her fingernails    nicked his cheek. ezra had probably anticipated the move before she made the    conscious decision to do it, dodging it just in time to only deepen her embarrassment.    stevie let out a huff, stumbling against the table as her own arm threw her off    balance. the blue moon nearly slipped out of her hand before she smacked it       down in front of ezra.

           ❛          shit!

[ezrpierce]

        He continued to stare at her blankly, waiting for a reaction. Although, his stare was hardly blank, considering a slew of thoughts began to sift through his head. It had been a little since he was this close to ex-wife — since he was able to see her features up close and at this moment, her manic expression. Nothing was different. Years later and Stevie still couldn’t hold down a drink (which was very evident from the smell of alcohol on her breath). Granted, the woman he knew preferred not to go out. She chose studying over premiere parties and their old New York apartment instead of the city’s lively streets. Theoretically, he was looking at somebody new, and her overdressed demeanor expressed that. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders.

       “Stevie,” Ezra started. Out of all the possible emotions, he least expected the girl to be angry. He was bracing himself for an awkward hello, or even a roll of the eyes — but not a line of heated words and eventually slaps. Attempted slaps, anyways. His lips parted in an attempt to calm down the wild woman, but he was interrupted by her slow swings.

       “What the fuck are you doing?” His eyes were wide, his expression laced with shock. The truth to the situation was simple: Ezra didn’t know what to do. The brunet didn’t mean to insult Stevie with his vague hello. If anything, he was unsure of how to approach her. The last time he saw her was her mother’s funeral, and even that, he debated attending. Everything with and about Stevie felt wrong. Saying her name, talking about her, looking at the forbidden tattoo on his wrist… Ezra spent so many years loving her, but it took less than half of that for him to rip their marriage apart. Ezra’s ignorant choices made it difficult to greet her with more than a hello — no matter how many times the artist circled his thoughts at a drunken three A.M.

      “Fuck you, Stevie.” Ezra’s face scrunched in slight frustration. “I mean, Jesus Christ., what the fuck has gotten—”

       His confused rampage was cut short by Stevie’s ambitious movements (for somebody who was not very steady on their feet to begin with) and eventually lack of balance. He had only drunken a small sum of alcohol, but for Ezra too, watching her fall was like slow motion.

       “Fuck.”

        Hastily throwing his arms around her, Ezra frantically caught hold of the girl before she hit the wooden ground. She felt light in his grip, and it was an effortless act for him to hoist her body upwards, and secure her footing by wrapping his arm around her waist. “Are you alright?” Ezra raised his eyebrows. His features screamed a slather of emotions: annoyance, frustration… but there was also a hint of concern.

[sebfuckingkyle-blog]

Seb squinted, rubbing his own forehead as the man snarked at him. He blinked a couple times, shoving the fact that he was attracted to this random stranger to the back of his mind–he was angry right now.

“Yeah, well, likewise,” Seb sneered in response, “Smart ass. You better have been in a rush to go somewhere important, bumping into me like that.”

[ezrpierce]

        “I’m not the only one who was in a fuckin’ rush,” he scoffed. Sure, he was walking at a brisk pace, but Ezra was more interested in leaving the unwarranted cold than he was getting to a specific destination. As he stood there, staring at the person in front of him, the thumping in his forehead began to subside. Ezra barely noticed it — he was too busy wracking up yet another passive aggressive comment to fuel his and the stranger’s fire. “What about you, big shot? I’m sure you were takin’ a fucking walk in the park.”

[roslynsmoak]

@ezrpierce ;

      It had been a long night. Working double shifts back to back took a lot more out of her than it used to. The girl was just barely entering her thirties, yet she felt like she had the inner workings of a sixty year old. Between dancing in the little free time she had and working here most nights, she felt exhausted. It’s a good thing she has always believed that putting in hard work will get you where you want to go, otherwise all of this would feel very pointless.  

      It was nearing towards the end of her shift and a part of her felt very grateful how slow it was at these late hours… but the other part was leaning her head against the wall in the kitchen with her eyes half closed wanting nothing more than to get some sleep. Ros, you got a table out front. Those were the only words that were able to pull her back to consciousness. Pressing down the wrinkles in her uniform, Roslyn grabbed her note pad before walking over to the table in the front.

      “Hi there, my name is Roslyn and I’ll be serving you today. Can I start you out with-”

      And just like that, she forgot her words. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because of her sleepy mind. The customer struck a memory inside of her that she almost forgot about – New York, the time in her life when she was most optimistic. The time in her life when he was around. Suddenly she felt awake.

      “Ezra?”

[ezrpierce]

        The Frey native was sitting in a worn booth, mindlessly pushing grains of salt around the table to pass the time. He wasn’t waiting for anyone — really, he just wanted a burger — but Ezra’s last meal was his dinner the previous night and his stomach was contracting in hunger. It didn’t help that the diner was filled with enticing food and clinking forks. He continued to move the sour specs, creating random shapes and figures with them, and then brushed the contents off his index fingers to only start again. It was a childish habit, yet Ezra found himself a victim of it frequently. 

        Letting out a breath of air, the clump of salt scattered amongst the surface. He sighed. The man’s energy felt low, and needing to lean over and handle his own consequences appeared to be more effort than it was worth. Nonetheless, Ezra was trying to avoid his self destructive tendencies, so he straightened his slouched posture and slowly (but surely) cleared off the coated table.

        Thankfully, he could hear a waitresses steps in the distance.

“Hi there, my name is Roslyn and-”

        From the sound of the girl’s voice and the rarity of her name, Ezra was immediately thrown into a nostalgic frenzy. His memory jumped to New York — but more specifically, the moment the mystery girl fled the chaotic city and left not a remnant to remember her by. That was a while ago, however, and the odds of Roslyn, New York Roslyn, for a lack of better words, having made a new life in Frey were slim to none. So, when Ezra turned his attention to the waitress, the last thing he was expecting was a tall blonde, with familiar green eyes.

        “Ros...” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His features were clouded with shock. “Shit, what are you doing here?”

[sebfuckingkyle-blog]

“Anger management,” Sebastian scoffed, kicking the ground a little bit, “My ass.” He studied the ground as he walked and only looks up when he collides head-first with someone walking the opposite direction.

“Ah, fuck! Watch where you’re going!” he shouted, not pausing to realize that he was the one that should’ve been paying attention.

[ezrpierce]

        “Fuck,” He groaned, caressing his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Your head’s a lot fucking harder than it looks, man.” Ezra stepped backwards, his face scrunched in displeasure, and reluctantly acknowledged the person who had hit him. “You know, those things...,” he started. “Above your nose. Your eyes, yeah. They’re there so shit like this doesn’t happen.” He lowered his arm to his side, but his temple continued to pulsate.

[stephcnie-blog]

                    —— open

     she teetered away from the restroom, having already spent a copious amount of      time touching up her lipstick with unsteady hands & a blurry reflection, although it      wasn’t clear whether her unbalance was from the alcohol or the high heels – albeit,      both must have been contributing factors. for a moment, after strolling past the      line of women waiting for a stall to open up, it was just her; tendrils of hair falling      loose from a braided chignon, fingertips brushing her décolletage to check the status      of how exposed she was (nothing was popping out, thankfully), and the sound of her      heels on the floor. alone in a minute of open space. she hardly felt the eyes hugging      her body – a woman dressed a little too sultry for a bar in farhollow, as out of place      as she always was – as she swayed over to her group, heads turning to watch for an      instant before going back to their regularly scheduled programming in the form      of booze and good company.

     stevie had to take a cursory glance over their occupied table, smattered with napkins      and various glasses, ranging from empty to half-full, before she recognized her blue      moon – which, upon bringing to her lips, she noticed was running low, anyway.      after a brief moment of debate & a futile attempt to recount how many drinks had      already gone down the hatch that night, she’d turned on her heel, catching her      stumble on the table’s edge before heading to the bar.

     she had plans to order another one – she was treating herself tonight, after all. she      really did. until a burst of laughter on the way caught her attention, and she forgot all      about any further drinks for that instant. she recognized that head of hair, the laugh      accompanying it. at least, she thought she did. in a sober state, she’d suppose that all      drunken actions were uncharacteristic. in fact, she’d defend that claim. stevie wasn’t      sure she bought into the bullshit ideology that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart—      but she wasn’t sober, and therefore couldn’t justify her behavior. instead, she held      a finger to her lips to signal the secrecy of her interruption, wanting her presence to      be a surprise. her smile glittered with a sense of unrestrained brilliance as she let out      a squeal before giving them a shake.

          ❛               guess who, you tosser?! what are you doing here?

[ezrpierce]

        Ezra claimed he had better things to do his Saturday evening than sit in a bar in Farhollow — the last time he’d been in that part of town, he was twenty years old and searching for The Sex Pistols on vinyl. With the exception of a decent burger joint and quirky antique stores, nothing drove the individual to travel to that side of Frey. However, an uneventful weekend so far and only his father’s dog to keep him company, Ezra took a peek into the dark side... (which was a complete over exaggeration and merely meant that he finally brought himself to try out the pub). Anyways — now with his head lazily drooped on his hand, the man was bored out of his mind. Plenty of people surrounded him, but small talk was no longer an option for Ezra. His face was sore from a slew of fake smiles and he already had a shameless run of playing into the game: who has it better. According to the tipsy forty year old lounging next him, Ezra was a thirty four year old family man with four kids, a sweetheart of a wife, and a white picket fence to solidify their urban reputation. The sad truth to his white lies though was that everything mentioned in the two’s conversation were things Ezra could have had. And with that, he took a long swig of his drink.

        There was a soft lull of clinking glasses and civil conversation in the background. Watching the mannerisms of those around him, Ezra felt out of place — he was wearing a pair of dark washed jeans, torn at the knee and a sweater that dipped in a v-neck. His style was casual, although his style always screamed ‘I may or may not have chosen this with my eyes closed and with the intent to go drinking afterwards’. He fondly remembered strutting through the doors of Random House, a boasting publishing company in the heart of New York City, and sporting black dress pants and a dress shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow. Granted, it was not Ezra’s appearance that won him the job. He credited the success to his zesty personality.

        Swiftly finishing the last bit of hard liquor before him, Ezra ran a hand through his tousled locks. For some reason, sitting in a wooden chair until he was absolutely gone merely didn’t appeal to him. He felt useless, throwing bouts of cash onto the bar to feed his hurting social life. Frey held nothing for the individual, and lonely nights like these made Ezra question why he was there in the first place. Ezra tossed a twenty to the bartender and began to slip on his jacket. That was, until a pair of arms wrapped relentlessly around his shoulders. “Jesus,” he uttered, and twisted his body in the strangers direction. They smelt of alcohol and familiar perfume.

        To Ezra’s surprise, the mysterious figure was Stevie. His mouth parted and his eyes grazed the woman’s appearance in shock. She was the last person he was expecting, and if he was gonna guess, the feeling was mutual. “Hi.” His tone was flat.

[allbullshiit]

“Maybe I do have a ray of sunshine comin’ out my ass, but that is for me to know and for you to never find out,” She shrugged a little and tugged some the dog leash in hand to try and get her dog, Luke, to stop sniffing what was left of a dropped ice cream cone. It wasn’t the first time she had heard a remark such as that one, and it wouldn’t be the last one, either, “Yes, I know it’s February, but ice cream is certainly important. Besides I’m tryin’ to get a feel of this town, as I’ve only been here a week.”

[ezrpierce]

        “I mean, an entire ray of sunshine coming out of your ass would be pretty noticeable, don’t you think? It’d take a lot of southern hospitality to cover that shit up.” Ezra shrugged his shoulders. Granted, he wasn’t an expert on the matter, but as the wise words go — you gotta’ fake it until you make it. He watched as she tugged on the dog’s leash, hoping to distract the ice cream crazed animal. “Why?” There was a sarcastic undertone to Ezra’s voice. Although it was such a vague question, it simultaneously covered all of the others he felt obligated to ask. For example, where you from? And most importantly, why choose Frey, Maine, of all the places surrounding the coast?

[frcddies]

The moment that she found an empty bench that had the perfect view of the lighthouse, Jane wasted no time and immediately proceeded on starting a new sketch. It was the Founder’s Day yet, she barely spent her time socializing with other people. It wasn’t like Jane was unfriendly nor did she hate talking to other people. It’s just that she woke up that day, wanting to grab her pencil and sketchbook first thing in the morning to get her hand working on another artwork that she can show to her students at some point in one of her classes. 

The side of her right hand already had bit of pencil smudges after about ten minutes of drawing lines as she continued her work, only looking up to gaze at the lighthouse, before turning her focus back to the task at hand. She can always have her hands washed later on if there’ll be a time that she’d have to shake someone’s hand. At one point during her sketching, the natural lighting that was helping her refine the lines that she was doing on her pad was seemingly blocked by a figure, causing for her to look up. 

Her mind immediately flew to the possibility that she might have unknowingly taken the seat from someone else and with that thought suddenly hitting her, Jane stopped what she was doing and immediately stood up, clutching her sketch pad with one hand as she smiled at the other rather apologetically.

 “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take your seat.”

[ezrpierce]

        Mindlessly strolling up the sidewalk, Ezra lifted the nearly empty can of beer to his lips — which was slightly alarming because he had only bought it a couple of minutes ago. For some reason, wholesome, family-inspired events celebrating Frey just weren’t the man’s cup of tea. And how did he cope with that? By drowning his liver with mediocre alcohol and sulking silently beneath an oak tree. “Fuck,” Ezra mumbled. Why was he still there? It was February, yet the glare of the sun, shamelessly shining into his eyes was giving him a headache. If that wasn’t a good enough reason for the Frey native to skip out of the “party”, then he didn’t know what was. Ezra finished off what was left of his beer and did his best to crumple the cheap metal (unsuccessfully, of course). For the first time that day, he was thankful for his laid back attire. If he blocked his eyes with a thick pair of sunglasses and drooped his hood on, the world couldn’t see how drunk Ezra truly was.

        The closer he got to the bench he had subconsciously claimed as his own, the more annoyed the brunet became. Somebody had taken it. “Jesus Christ,” Ezra muttered. That was one of the many reasons he left his sorry hometown in the first place — people, and especially elders, just thought they could take things without asking. The fact that the seat overlooking the lighthouse belonged to Ezra was clear as day. He had left his sweatshirt there to reserve it... the zip up that was currently engulfing his body and keeping it warm from the testy winds. Ezra chuckled at his own obliviousness. 

        Despite his initial frustration, he proceeded towards the stranger in relatively good spirits. She looked pre-occupied — continuously gazing from the glowing lighthouse in the distance to a smudged notepad on her lap. “Tell me.” Ezra cleared his throat. “Is this better than the lighthouse, or is this better than the lighthouse?” He ignored her apology completely, and instead posed foolishly in front of the view.

[allbullshiit]

“I might be freezin’ my ass off up in this town, but I have’ta say. This town has the best ice cream I’ve ever had in my life!” Weezie smiled, looking at the person to her left. She had an ice cream cone in one hand (despite being in the middle of February) and a dog leash in the other, “Have you had the strawberry?”

[ezrpierce]

        Ezra furrowed his eyebrows at the woman sitting next to him — there were so many confusing factors to their conversation, and it started with her chipper accent. “You sound like there’s a ray of fuckin’ sunshine coming out of your ass,” he retorted bluntly. The way her complexion lit up when she spoke, it would’ve made Ezra believe there was something magical about Frey’s ice cream. Strawberry flavored, to be more specific. If the thirty-four year old was being honest, he was more of a peanut butter cup guy anyways. “It’s February, you know.”

[negankylo]