one upon a time, many, many years ago now, many of those whoād gravitated into orbit around liam had figured that being years ahead in drinking experience was something to be proud of - for him, though, it was hard to see the positives of something so neutral, especially with it came with the fairly heavy downsides of needing three more drinks than everyone else for anything to properly kick in. a lot of the time, it was just needing to spend a bit more money or explain away his friendās behaviour to their parents if they were suddenly laughing a lot harder at their awful jokes, sometimes be the one to be held accountable when they came home from a āquiet partyā almost about to pass out - but those were all crosses he was willing to bare. if there was one thing, though, which despite years of experienced heād never massively warmed to, it was dealing with the lightweights. it had been endearing at first, he supposed - but when the time had come where it was definitely a rarity for one to crop up at an event, he had been able to breathe a sigh of relief.
when it was norah whoād ended up breaking his streak, however, part of him wasnāt in the slightest surprised - if he was surprised, it was only because somehow, he wasnāt exasperated. it was hard to be with someone like her.
allowing a small grin to slip into place as she spoke, he waited a few moments before he glanced away to look over the heads of those around them to search for a seat, only looking back for a split second to give her a skeptical squint and head tilt at her claim of having hardly anything - more out of habit, despite how much he realised he actually believed her. āplease, youād love my parties,ā he scoffed lightheartedly, before lowering his voice, raising a hand to cover the other side of his mouth, glancing around as if he were about to reveal government secrets, āitās all in the drinks,ā and, giving her a gentle shove with a hand heād repositioned to be hovering just above her shoulder, āso youāre already nailing it - you donāt mind if we go sit down for a minute, do you?ā itās not so much a question, but not an order, either - he doesnāt need to order someone heās already lightly guiding away from the drinks towards one of the empty places heād managed to scout out. the only thing that can distract him is her take on the drinks, to which he has to properly scoff and look at her with a look of mixed incredulity and something close to disappointment. āoh, norah - if you love me as much as you claim to, please, please promise me i can show you some actual good drinks some night. iām actually begging you. ā
hate when people think I know stuff. I dont know anything, I just use Google. I Google simple words because they look like they're spelled wrong and I cant be sure. I Google how to boil eggs every time I do it. this is who I am.
āthank god,ā wolfie let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face, plopping himself down in the empty seat next to liam. as always, there were always skeptics whenever a new member joined the imperium society, but wolfie had liked liam right off the batĀ ā or perhaps he was attracted to the idea of a fresh start. someone who didnāt know the whole story. there was something about being around liam that could make him feel like he wasnāt william preston, but rather just, wolfie. another student at ashcroft. and that was exactly the kind of escape he needed from the formal nowĀ ā to not feel like william preston. to not feel like every glance in his direction was a sympathetic one, pitying eyes and meaningless words. students he hardly knew telling him how sorry they were for his lossĀ ā how great octavia was. how perfect she was. they obviously didnāt know his sister very well.Ā
āif i have to hear one more person talk about this stupid fucking snow queen, i might just blow my head off,ā he muttered, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for his flask.Ā āi donāt understand why people care about this shit.ā he scoffs, unscrewing the top off and tilting his head back to take a sip before offering it to the boy beside him.Ā
āso i take it formals arenāt really your thing?ā itās not a particularly sherlockian deduction - but somehow, liam has the feeling that some genius analysing his every movement isnāt what wolfieās looking for. shifting his own chair slightly, not an adjustment that changes anything, just one to show heās listening, force of habit - even if heās taken a step back from the same plastered smile, feigned interest in the same five topics, the āi knowās and ābut you have to considerās that get peppered in whenever the topic of the society eventually comes up, heās too far in to the show of the night to step out of his old charade fully. but then again, this is wolfie - so maybe, just maybe, he can tone himself down just enough, just for a few minutes. itās the least he can do for him, really - he hadnāt needed to be put in a room with him, hadnāt needed to share a subject, hadnāt needed to be family or a resurrected memory, heād just accepted him as part of the group, not wasted any time in getting them drinking together - he owed him for his civility, really, as what may have just looked like average politeness or a small comfort to some was reassurance, reassurance and a persuasion to stay for him.Ā
āyou might want to keep your voice down, someone may just call you up for treason,ā he warns, almost sagely if not for the hint of a laugh seeping in from the back of his throat, tacking on a quick ācheersā as he takes the flask from him and lets himself have a quick sip. itās like a brief moment of heaven, almost as if heād lost all sense of what something that wasnāt shit champagne could taste like - he has to sit with it for a moment before he can let himself talk again. āi dunno, though - it is just a bit of fun, and people who need to be on event committees or whatever do need something to do every now and again, donāt they?ā he shrugs as he hands the flask back with another nod of thanks, letting his gaze drift out towards the decorations. he canāt blame him, he supposes, heās been there long enough that the novelty is sure to have worn off - and in the aftermath of everything with octavia, lysander - he doesnāt get it, but he gets it. āis it like this every year?ā
sometimes, liam feels like part of him is running on some sort of auto-pilot. too many times, heās found himself reacting before he thinks, speaking before he can run the words through his head first, ending up somewhere and only having his motivation to move catching up to him later - and now, less than an hour out from the crowning of the snow queen, heās trying his hardest not to flat out push people out of his way as he struggles out of the hall, pulling the door open and breaking out into as much of a sprint as his suit will allow towards escalus house. he knows one thing for sure, but not how he learned it - maybe it was overheard gossip, maybe someone told it straight to his face, maybe it was some kind of familial psychic link (they werenāt twins, sure, but he wasnāt about to pretend that he hadnāt wished heād known her since the dawn of his existence, felt as though in some other world, with other versions of them, they couldāve been) or maybe heād just imagined it, the actually decent sips of whatever it had been wolfie and iskra had offered him slipping through the barrier of the school-rationed champagne, making him imagine things - however it was, it didnāt matter. the one thing he knew for sure - tess had fainted.
if he was as nearly as rational as he tried to seem around the society, heād know he was overreacting. the part of him that controlled how he tried to seem did know it - sheād fainted, big deal, someone was going to that night, it just happened to be his cousin, he had nothing to worry about - except he did. he wasnāt an idiot - well, he was, maybe, but he wasnāt stupid. he knew what she was like, he knew at least some of what she took, and though he couldnāt blame her for it, he could blame himself for not keeping a better eye out for her, he hadnāt seen her all night, he was such an idiot, he knew what could happen, what passing out could mean - heās never been one to panic, not around friends, panicking was stupid, panic ruined the fun, and heād had nothing to worry about with them anyway - but he had something to worry about with her. she was family.
as, finally, he came close to the edge of campus, the house in the near distance (a house was all it was - it wasnāt just in the name, no, it was just a house, not a home, it would never be his home) he gave up on the effort heād been making to unbutton his jacket as heād gone, knowing their was no point now trying to make himself any less restricted now, and fumbling with the now almost-frosted-feeling buttons just made him look stupid - he had something else to focus on. when, as he opened the door and was faced with that something being directly in front of him on the stairs, looking the absolute opposite of fainted, and had to pause for a moment with a hand on the doorframe for balance, he was hit by a realisation that he could only ponder in the moment he had to catch his breath - maybe he was stupid.
ātess, arenāt you mean to beā¦ i heard that youā¦ someone said, i donāt knowā¦ you fainted? and then someone else, and i didnāt see you, and you should be - shit, are you okay?ā as if to clear it, he quickly shook his head (another unsuccessful endeavour) before hurrying over to the stairs, putting his foot on the first one as he looked up at her. ājust - fuck, is that blood?ā he stammered over the words, still half-breathless, speaking them as if it were his first time trying to piece a sentence together and he was just falling short of the mark - he had too much he needed to say, not enough words to say them with, not enough ways to ask if she was alright, stuck just looking like the idiot he fucking was - āwhatās going on?ā
when liam sees georgina through briefly-passing gap in the crowd, itās like heās been visited by an angel. not in the same way itād been when theyād first met all those years ago, no, (not entirely, anyway - but heās not so stupid heād think of acting on it if it was) and not just because of how gorgeous she looks - this time, itās like something spiritual. itās a rescue. a moment to step back, take a breath, collect himself. itās a reassurance that heās not the only one in the society who seems to be losing their fucking minds. he knew full well from weeks of trying to break through how tangled the whole group was, and though he couldnāt blame them for it, in the same way you couldnāt blame headphones for getting in knots after hours of being jostled around in a back, they hadnāt chosen what had happened - but for some reason, heād stupidly assumed that maybe, just maybe, theyād be able to put things aside for the formal, just one night - but alas. with half of them off fighting, a good lot jumping ship from what he could tell of their apparently dwindling numbers, what had meant to be a night of just chatting and drinking with his classmates had turned into what he could only call imperium society pr. as much as it did solidify the feeling of being back home at his parentās parties, he had to admit it was stifling - but georgina, stood there looking as perfect as she always did, how the hell had she not been nominated for queen - she was a breath of fresh air, and before he knew it, he was sidestepping his way through the others towards her. for the first time that night, despite how odd it had been to be near her before now, a weight had somehow been lifted off his shoulders.
āgeorgina!ā it wasnāt the name he wanted to call her, the one heād had to fight off his tongue every time he saw her, but still, hopefully enough to grab her attention. as he finally neared her, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a moment of looking her up and down he shut it for a moment, just lifting his arms and giving her a defeated sort of smile before letting them fall back down to his sides, any trace of what heād been about to say vanished. āgod, look at you, you look stunning - is that valentino? or am i just assuming when you intern somewhere you have to wear their stuff for the rest of time - sorry, you know iāve never been a dress guy.ā his smile turned slightly sheepish, but he couldnāt keep a spark of laughter out of his eyes. āwolfie knows how lucky he is, yeah?ā
growing up, liam had never once claimed to actually enjoy his parentās parties, primarily because as far as he was aware, he hadnāt. sure, the drinking was fun, socialising with people three times his age heād never met before and chatting with them like they were family only to drift off back into the crowd and never see them again was always a good laugh, and he didnāt want to admit how long heād sometimes spend just wandering the halls of each event marvelling at the lights, the architecture, the art up on the wall - but he hadnāt enjoyed them, of course he hadnāt, and he certainly didnāt miss them. at least, he didnāt think he had - it was only when heād found himself spending the hours leading up to it actually in his room, no concern for being watched or overstepping someone who had no right to claim to space as theres as he was too busy agonising over what exactly he should wear down to the buttons (what style, how many done up, if any at all) that he realised maybe, some tiny part of him did. heād ended up spending so much time getting ready on his own heād completely managed to miss norah and valentine leaving - he hadnāt had time to worry when heād emerged into the living room and found it empty, but as soon as he spotted the latter of his roommates in the corner of his eye, he found himself letting out a sigh of relief he didnāt even know heād been holding.
āval!ā he called out as he quickly made his way over to join her, taking a two-step diversion to grab another flute of champagne before continuing back on his path, looking her and her outfit up and down as he got nearer. āsorry i couldnāt wish you luck for tonight on the way out - you look amazing, though, seriously.ā he held out the champagne for her as he spoke with a smile, as if it were a peace offering for a conflict that hadnāt existed. āhowāre you feeling? nervous?ā
āoh, you donāt want to drink that, i know the stuff here isnāt great but that, it tastesā¦ā liam pulled a face of utmost disgust, the only way he could truly express how terrible the stuff was - as it turned out, it was also the only way he could realise exactly what he was doing.
finding a way to talk to iskra had been something heād been meaning to do all night - honestly, it was something heād been meaning to do since heād first exchanged a greeting with her at the rather unfortunate setting of her best friendās loch-side memorial - but when heād first heard that sheād been nominated for snow queen, the first thing heād done (after casting his vote, of course) had been to push speaking to her far to the top of his things-to-do-at-the-formal agenda, right above āmingleā and ādrinkā. as much as heād been holding out to do it, however, apparently things werenāt going to play out exactly as heād imagined - granted, he hadnāt really imagined anything concrete, but when heād spotted her by the drinks reaching for brand he knew deep down in his gut was possibly the worst possible option available there, he couldnāt stop himself from trying to save her. it felt like verbally stumbling over the starting line before the pistol had been fired - but by the time heād realised the whole situation, it was too late for him to stop himself. he just had to act like heād meant it, confident. run the race.
āi mean, even if it was passable, which itās not - the guys who sell it over here, theyāre right pricks. you do you, but itās been a struggle all night not to just tip it all out outside just to spite them. it wouldnāt be a waste.ā giving her a small smile as he spoke, he turned away for a moment to grab a quick refill before glancing back towards her, trying to instantly push past his seemingly sudden possession by a spirit whoād spent all itās mortal life being a dickhead at every tasting, probably murdered by the vintner while the rest of the tour turned an understanding blind eye. āsorry, shouldāve asked - howās your night been? future snow queen?ā
since heād first begun drinking (which was, really, just a nicer way of saying before he could remember,) liam had found that his habits had neatly organized themselves into two distinct categories - with friends, and with company. in the years leading up to what his school friends still rather melodramatically referred to his exile to edinburgh, āwith friendsā had been the one heād indulged in most, the friends in question being the same ones to consider his time at ashcroft some kind of cross he must bear - drinking whatever he could get his hands on for however long he could go without getting either sick or caught, no consideration for what heād say or do when he was no longer in control, because neither would those around him be either - but āwith companyā, it was a different story. company could be anyone - his parents, more often than not, but where it really mattered was at their parties, surrounded by business partners and friends from across europe. drink for show, not to get drunk, stay sober enough to be polite and know everything heād done once the whole thing was over with, just be presentable.
whenever heād gone out with the friends heād made since coming to the school, liam had found himself neatly falling back into āwith friendsā - but now, despite the fact it was the same crowd, something about the atmosphere of the winter formal, the suits, the dresses, the champagne, the chandeliers, the dancing - suddenly, heād been thrown back to presentable, whether he liked it or not. then again, even if he wanted to get drunk, it was seeming near impossible - even as he headed over to the champagne to get his umpteenth refill of the night, all he could tell was that the drinks were shit, but then again, what else should he have expected from a school formal, no matter how much the students here could get away with?
there was one thing he certainly hadnāt expected to see as heād pushed through the crowd with his empty flute, however- or rather, there was one person he certainly hadnāt expected to see. āso this is what it takes to get you to drink? if youād told me all you needed was just a big fancy party, it wouldāve saved me a lot of disappointment before.ā tilting his head just a fraction with a small, inquisitive smile, he glanced away for a moment to set the glass down before giving norah a proper look. ājust... out of curiosity, how much have you had?ā
the night liam finally committed to his move into escalus house after a semester of flitting between hotels in the city was not proving to be an easy one.Ā
it was one of those nights where it was just impossible to get to sleep for more than two minutes at a time, two minutes heād sacrifice forty minutes of tossing and turning to grab hold of. after the first two hours of getting tangled in his sheets trying to find a position his brain would deem comfortable enough, heād staggered out of bed and rummaged in his boxes to finally pull out an unopened bottle of whiskey, which heād made no hesitation in downing, figuring the stronger the nightcap the better - but still, whenever heād been able to actually nod off, heād quickly find himself awake once more, scrambling to check the time on his phone, only to be disappointed when he found only ten minutes had passed since the last trial.Ā
finally, though, after uncomfortably drifting off to the sound of wind much-more-comfortably whistling against the glass window, he woke to silence - he woke to light. if he hadnāt suddenly felt the urge to, once again, check his phone, he wouldnāt have kept his eyes open for more than a few seconds - but before he had the chance to confirm his suspicion it was about five, he saw her.
she was stood leaning against the doorframe, the door the doorframe itself framed only a third open - still letting in enough light to illuminate her. at least, thatās what he supposed was causing the glow around her edges, the softness she seemed to have against her backdrop. she was looking at, no, watching him, her head on a three quarter angle - she seemed to be making some sort of a judgement, at first, but the look she was giving him was one he knew all to well - it was fondness.Ā
she was were she belonged, he felt that in his gut - but when he tried to greet her, had the slightest notion to just give her a tired goodmorning, but he couldnāt open his mouth.Ā
she didnāt seem to need him to talk, however - in fact, it seemed like she was already listening, or saying something herself - she was in conversation, and somehow, he felt like he was too, but he was far, far away from it - but it was him.
instead of speaking, he finally decided to try and sit up, but whenever he went to move it felt like his whole body was running on sand, or through water, it was bogged down, he just couldnāt. except he could - somehow, there he was, he was sitting, and as he realised he was the sun moved up just ever so slightly, illuminating the room just the tiniest bit more - there, with a shine reflecting right into his eyes, photos on his desk of people he knew, of course he knew them, they were his friends, and next to them, books piled up that heād read, but heād been meaning to return them to the library for a while now, he had to get someone to remind him, through the crack in the door he could see paintings he knew were valentines - and then, stood against the doorframe, was her.
sheād always been there. heād invited her to be, after all, and she always got up before he did.
it was only then he spotted, just as he turned her head, that still silhouetted was something of a spike, or a clump - too solid to be a knot, surely, but not like any sort of hair accessory heād ever seen before. a painstaking wade through thick air was what it took to furrow his eyebrows slightly, glance from it to her - but after a momentās apparent confusion, she seemed to realise what he was looking at. quickly, she flashed him a smile, raised a hand to it, and when she pulled it away, her fingertips were coated in something far, far darker than she seemed to be.Ā
it started in the roof of his mouth, the bitterness, the coppery bitterness, unmistakable - he couldnāt smell it, but he could taste it, the blood. thatās what it had been, and now, with her head fully turned, he could see it, dripping down her forehead, down her neck, down into her shirt, it had been there the whole time, how could he have not seen it - he tried to open his mouth, he knew he could, but he also knew if he did, heād be sick.
slowly, she starts to come towards him, but she doesnāt seem to walk - itās not really a glide, though, either. heād get up to verify just what the movement was, also likely to sprint out, but once more, he canāt move, not a muscle. all he wants to do is ask if sheās okay - no, no he doesnāt, he wants to shout for someone, he wants to leave.Ā
all he knows for sure is that now, sheās sitting herself down on the edge of the bed, a small smile on her face. that softness, itās still there, but now thereās something of a challenge to it as well, he knows that glint in her eyes - not from her, but from himself, reflected back in the eyes of others. he doesnāt want a challenge now, though. his only want, he thinks, is simple - he wants to know what the fuckās happening.
as usual, she seems to know that - and suddenly, thereās noise. sheās been talking all the while, but it hasnāt been his conversation, how the fuck could he think it was his conversation - now, though, itās his, sheās focused on him, not him. she doesnāt need to tell him to listen - nothing in the world, he thinks, could make him look away now.Ā
āthe truth,ā she starts, āis in a box under a bed -ā and then, although he expects, hopes, needs her to explain, she just shrugs, ā- pretty weak hiding place, if you ask me.ā
he drops.Ā
like in the short dreams, but not in the uncomfortable sense, the ones you have before the proper dream, where youāre sliding down a ramp and youāre falling into some void and then you hit your bed, and then you can go back to sleep in the comfort it wonāt happen again - but he hadnāt been sliding down a ramp, he hadnāt fallen into a void, he had been in his room, heād been with her.
except he hadnāt.
itās funny how things just make sense in dreams - because now heās awake, actually awake, he can see that wasnāt his room. sure, there was that chip on the side of the windowframe, and the way the light hit was identical to the way it is now - but his bed doesnāt face the door. he doesnāt have photos or books piled up on a desk - he doesnāt even have a desk yet. the paintings he could see out through the door - heās never seen them in his life, he has no idea if theyāre the kind of thing his new roommate would like, not yet, anyway - and her.Ā
Sneaking out past curfew wasnāt smart, Christian knew that. But for the first time in his life, he found lately that he didnāt want to be smart about things, he wanted to be fucking distracted. Luckily, bonding with Liam meant that he had a partner with which to be stupidly distracted, and Christian was grateful for thatā not just because it made him less likely to wind up in a ditch somewhere, but because he enjoyed Liamās company. Liam was uninvolved and therefore uncorrupted by anything Octavia, and Christian also hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. And if the two of them were downing Jager bombs off-campus, nothing Octavia-related could reach either of them. They were stupid, but in another sense, they were safe.
āFuck ghosts,ā Christian slurred as the two of them stumbled out of the pub. If he was thinking to check his watch, heād know it was exactly 3:21am.Ā āFuck them to hell, pun intended. Am I right, mate?ā He threw an arm around Liamās shoulders to brace them both, but it somehow made the arrangement even more clumsy.
liam wouldnāt say heād had a lot of fears coming into ashcroft - misgivings, maybe, a couple of notions that the place was way too fucking pretentious even for him, sure - but fears, absolutely not. just the word itself, fears, it sounded childish - but if there was one thing he could admit to once having, it was a dread. the dread that once he arrived, all of his classmates would be exactly like the people from his old school who had wanted to be there were - stuckup, obsessive about following the rules, looking down on anyone who dared to do otherwise, people heād have to hand-hold-baby-steps into showing an actual good time if he wanted any small chance of being able to stand them. luckily, though, it hadnāt taken long for his fear (no, not a fear, his dread,) to be safely brushed away - and now, trying not to trip as he and christian made their way back out into the relatively fresh edinburgh air, it would take some Ā very instantaneous (if being immediate could be faster than being immediate) sobering up to remember it had even been there.
heading out from campus in the dead of night with christian by his side had very quickly become one of liamās favourite activities - drinking with any of the others, if something of a rarity given the state they were all in, was perfectly fine, but there was something about him, something about the circumstances in which they skipped off to some pub or another, that just made the whole thing so much more rewarding, made it feel more like he was back home with an old mate. with christian, liam could get actually properly drunk - both of them could. his new friendās reasoning being what it was or not - it was more than heād expected from the ashcroft experience, but by christ, he was glad it was. momentarily focused on getting somewhere close to balanced, it took liam a second to realise christian was talking to him, but as soon as he did he looked up towards him with a quick inquisitive grin - a simple grin which quickly turned into a laugh and a half-coughed swear as he nearly found himself falling straight into him as he drew him closer. nonetheless, he quickly lifted an arm to his friends shoulder, lifting his head with a final laugh. āfuck ghosts!ā he came close to shouting as an echo, āfuck āem to heaven or hell, exactly, whatever makes them just pissā¦ right off! shit, mateā¦ is ashcroft a veryā¦ ghostey place? cause thatās not something they tell you on the fuckinā¦ the day. the first one. yknow?āĀ
* Ā // ā¦ļø it was @falsificatoreāā in the į“į“į“Źį“į“į“É“į“ !
valentine did not have an artistic bone in her body. visual art was the one thing she was incapable of doing in school. writing and math were easy, music was second nature, but for some reason, she could never wrap her head around painting and drawing. lucky for her, she had an unlimited amount of funds to purchase paintings for her apartment. she was in the process of hanging decorations ( talk about controlling what you can when things seem out of your control ) when she ended up at an impasse.
she had a one painting in her left hand, a gift from her father on her 20th birthday. it was an abstract piece, with lots of warm colors, and she hadnāt hung it since heād given it to her. in her right hand, she had a smaller piece, a portrait of the eiffel tower she had purchased on a summer trip to france.Ā
turning around to face her roommate, she held both portraits in his direction.Ā āwhat do you think?ā
ā THE MEMORIES ARE GOOD. theyāre weird, but theyāre good. she remembers the first glimpse of liam at the end of last semester, when he was invited to join the society ā they didnāt talk much that. she was preoccupied with things like, you know, the death of a close friend, but sheād spent the entire evening scrolling through a folder on her phone titled āsummer in campaniaā ā just reminiscing. saying that she never expected to see him again felt like a cliche, but it was true ā especially HERE.Ā
āliam!ā she drops her books down in the seat beside him in the library. because itās time to bite the bullet ā if theyāll be living together, theyād better break the ice until itās water.Ā āhi,ā she greets, million-dollar smile stretching across her features.Ā āhow are you getting on?ā itās a much different environment, the dark high ceilings of the library, surrounded by the smell of musty books. nothing like the italian sunshine under which theyād become well acquainted, running through cobblestone streets to hop on the back of a motorcycle. there is nothing cinema-like about the horrors theyāve experienced lately.
āhonestly, i ā iām still so surprised to see you!ā she admits, adjusting to face him.Ā āi mean, last we talked, you didnāt have any interest in university, butā¦ā georgina trails off slightly, her smile faltering with a touch of sadness.Ā āi suppose itās been a long time since then.āĀ
if any of his old classmates back home could see him now, he wouldnāt blame them if they didnāt recognize him at first glance - holed away in a school library, a laptop propped up on top of an honest to god textbook, simultaneously functioning as a weight to hold it open to a page heās actually reading, and notebook a with notes being written by his hand spread out in front of him, heās a far cry from the liam of a few months ago - and if heād be so different to people heād seen every weekday since he was 12, 5, for those he went way back with, heās certainly impressed when heās able to be so warmly recognised by someone who had, up until a few months ago, essentially just been a memory. an amazing memory, sure, a memory heād, despite himself, kept a semi-hopeful eye out for the next summer - but one, in the end, heād been okay to just leave back where and when theyād met.
but now, against all odds, here she was - and though when heād first gotten a glimpse of the other members when he was brought to meet the society he couldnāt help but brush away the circumstances and let himself get washed over by not just the shock, but the honest joy of seeing her again, it (luckily) didnāt take a genius to figure that it wasnāt really the right time, and very quickly after heād luckily been able to piece together that she was already with someone at ashcroft. it wasnāt as if he was angry atĀ her for it, it wasnāt like he had a patent on being close to her, he wasnāt insane, norĀ was he in a sitcom, it wasnāt as if he hadnāt dated other people since their summer together, and somelike who wolfie seemed to be was what she deserved - but heād be lying if he didnāt admit how difficult it made actually sitting down for a proper conversation with her, especially considering the circumstances he could no longer just sweep under the rug. strangers he could put an act on for, sure, easy, had been doing it his whole life - but this isnāt a stranger. this is georgina. what the hellās he supposed to do when she comes to sit down by him while heās studying?
āhey!ā he half-laughs, pulling an earbud out and quickly scrambling to pause his music - already making an idiot of himself, he knows, - āyeah, yeah, things hereāve beenā¦ okay, i guess, good, actually, i mean, apart fromā¦ā idiot, fucking donāt, ā- how about you, howāre your classes going? youāre doing art, yeah?ā as he talks, he starts to manoeuvre his books closer to the wall to make more room, āand - yeah, me too! i mean, iām surprised too, it was a pretty quick change, me back then wouldnāt ofā¦ but you here as well - i mean, not that i didnāt think you would get in here, but i didnāt know you wereā¦ it has been a while, yeah.ā heās not sure how much he believes in god, but please, if heās out there, can he do something to straighten him out just for the next few minutes so she forgets everything heās just said?
it took longer than liam wouldāve liked to admit for him to realise that someone had come out to join him in the darkness of the living room - he was sure that at least a good few seconds had passed since norah had asked her question by the time his brain got to actually processing it and reacting, at which stage he had quickly lifted his arm from his face and blinked his eyes properly open just in time to see her dimly-lit silhouette already making its way over towards the couch heād temporarily adopted as a bed for the night. it hadnāt been an intentional choice, heād really just been meaning to sit up on his phone for a while to wind down for the night - at least thatās what the excuse heād been formulating since the device died he-didnāt-even-know-how-many hours ago. āoh, i dunno, not longā¦ā he started, stifling a yawn - despite knowing full well the battery was beyond gone, he still lifted it from where it had been dangling lazily from his hand as if to check the actual time - and at no response to the clicking of the on button, he just turned back to her and shrugged. he hadnāt spent the past few hours fully asleep, but he hadnāt been fully awake either, not since before the phone died - now, though, he was trying his hardest to get to that state of fully awake before norah could notice.Ā
though heād made at an attempt at sitting up to make some space for her that didnāt involve using his legs as a throw rug, he couldnāt help but let himself fall back as he omitted a short, tired burst of laughter. ānah, no way - every hotel in the cityās sick of me, where would i go?ā he half-smiled, trying his hardest to keep the mood light - but he sighed quietly as he relaxed back into the cushion heād rested up on the armrest, shutting one eye. āhave you tried counting sheep? just a little sip of rum?ā he suggested, again, attempting to bring some kind of humour to their situation - but that tone seemed to have mostly clocked out a few seconds ago, so, after a few momentās hesitation -Ā ādo you just wanna talk?ā
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