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@heathcelton
Waiting Around to Die - Townes Van Zandt
Sometimes I don’t know where This dirty road is taking me Sometimes I can’t even see the reason why I guess I keep a-gamblin’ Lots of booze and lots of ramblin’ It’s easier than just waitin’ around to die
A Crash Course in Polite Conversation | Zach and Heath
Some things never change. Heath would always appear to be collected, secure in his own shoes, not preparing himself to take a leap and fly off when things got dicey; unlike the younger of the two, whose palpable nervosity you could cut with a knife at this point. Heath sounded sincere. His words weren’t dripping with cynicism. “Thanks.” Zach smiled and glanced at the carpet his toes were digging into. He found a slight comfort in the casual attitude he was picking up on in his brother. His home had always felt temporary, even the furniture placed thoughtfully inside each room. It was clean, simple but held no room for individuality. He’d only begun to see the difference between his home and others when he’d entered Hazel’s house. It was practically falling apart, each corner more rusted than the next, and yet it screamed Hazel; genuine, grounded. Though, he suspects a few magazines thrown carelessly across the living room or perhaps a few more kitchen appliances kept out on the counters rather than tucked away in the cupboards would instantly turn his home into less of a realtor ad.
Instead of returning to the kitchen, Zach lingered in his spot. “Have at it,” he said, eyes wrinkling in the corners as he laughed at Heath’s comment. His heart jumped momentarily as he took in the moment before him. Heath, waiting for dinner in Zach’s home. This had only been a recurring dream until this point, something to console Zach whenever he worried about their relationship. With a last glance and a sentimental smile, Zach went back into the kitchen, fingers strumming along the satin black coated counters, waiting another minute before flipping over the steaks. He crouched down to peek into the oven, the roasting side dishes cooking inside.
Unable to keep the content expression off his face, Zach raised his eyebrows somewhat while wiping his hands on a clean towel. “Yeah? She never told me that.” His memories of their mother were few and far between, often involving her allowing their father to treat Heath and Zach as badly as he possibly could. In his mind, Zach saw his mother as a background figure; simply watching. Until she left town, since then she’d merely been just another disappointment in his life. As he got older, Zach had attempted to use his maturity to see why she acted the way she did but, it never did work out that well. Zach eyed his brother, still no signs of animosity coming off of Heath. He couldn’t help but to feel guilty; having been the successful one - whatever that means - while Heath took the beatings. It didn’t seem fair. “She knew I had my older brother looking out for me.” He gave a warm smile.
"Steaks!" Zach said, his voice less subdued than the moment before, his hand motioning toward the meat on the stove before moving onto the oven door, "potatoes and some vegetables." He shrugged at the last word, grimacing as if to say they were only for show. A hapless attempt at sounding more rugged than he was. "Want something to drink? I’ve got some beer, some wine, uh, and there’s some scotch in the living room."
One of the vases sitting on a shelf in the corner of the room had caught Heath's attention. Picking it up, he examined it as his brother busied himself in the kitchen with whatever. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure I was always the best at looking out for you." He'd tried so damn hard to not talk about the past. Until recently, he'd actually done a pretty great job of it. But then people had started reaching out to him for some inane reason he couldn't quite put his finger on. It had been infuriating at first. No, scratch that, it was still damn infuriating at times. Couldn't he just stay at home on his own, bitterly mumbling to himself while he polished off a couple of cans of beer and watched Ice Road Truckers?
But then he'd realise that he was probably better off with his brother and others in his life. Saying it had made him a better man was probably a bit of a stretch, but it had certainly improved his mood. And his apartment was a hell of a lot cleaner. His shirts were... well they were still strewn around his place, but at least some of them were folded neatly! Or as neatly as he could anyway. Most of all though, it had just made him dwell on the past a hell of a lot less. Sometimes he actually caught himself thinking towards the future without a sense of dread taking over, which was a minor miracle in itself.
Saving him from having to talk about their childhood for much longer, Zach chimed in with the plans for their meal and Heath couldn't help but smile. "Scotch is fine with me." Setting the vase back down as gently as he could almost expecting it to just magically fall and smash, thus ruining a perfectly nice evening. "I'll get myself a glass, don't worry about it." He found Zach's drinks bar easily enough and poured himself a large glass. Something told him he was going to need more than one tonight to calm his nerves.
"This is good stuff," Heath remarked after downing the first glass. "Though, I suppose most alcohol tastes good when all you've got at home is Pabst Blue Ribbon. I gotta start getting me a better brand of beer." He poured himself another glass before turning to look over at Zach who was still busy in the kitchen. "Do you want me to fix you something? My cocktail skills are a little rusty, mind you. I think I could probably make a gin and tonic at a stretch."
With Hammers and Nails | Heather, Poppy & Heath
She didn’t see anything when she walked into the kitchen, but with the guilt-stricken look on Poppy’s face and Heath’s blank one, she was sure she had narrowly avoided seeing something that perhaps she wasn’t quite ready to see. Considering Poppy had been so set on her relationship with the oldest Celton remaining a secret, Heather figured they might have shown a little more discretion. But then, was Heather really someone they considered to be the public? Like she and Poppy always said, they were best friends. They usually shared everything, and even though Poppy may have waited a while to tell her about Heath, she did trust her with the information. But still. From the way Poppy was acting now, Heather wasn’t sure that she ever really wanted to be informed of this at all. There was a part of her that wished Julia had never said anything in the first place.
The way Poppy was speaking gave it away - she had all but forgotten that Heather was even still in the house, and a strange disappointed feeling came over her. Shouldn’t she be happy that Heath had shown up? Why did she have this strange discomfort that Poppy was happy with someone? Why did she feel so left out? It was stupid, but standing there in the kitchen with them Heather felt out of place and so incredibly small and maybe it was the alcohol but she wanted to get out of there. Unfortunately, Poppy chose that moment to take her hand and lead her back into the main room, where Penelope was still making herself comfortable.
Seeing Heath sit down by Poppy and knowing they were a couple, a unit that didn’t need a third person, solidified Heather’s decision that she should go home. And watching Poppy get flustered because Penelope did what all bunnies do and hopped into Heath’s lap wasn’t something she wanted to be a part of for the rest of the evening. It was clear that Poppy wanted to talk to Heath, probably iron out some aspects of their relationship with him, and she couldn’t do that while Heather was over. “You know what? I’m feeling pretty tired,” she said, the words feeling funny in her mouth. “You guys enjoy the movie, alright?” she added with a tight smile, trying to be cheerful. So her best friend wanted to spend time with a guy. It wasn’t the end of the world, no matter how much it felt like it.
The three of them sat down And Heath wondered whether he should put his arm around Poppy. It would be so easy for him to just casually slip it around her shoulder or her waist and pull her close. It just seemed like such a natural thing to do. Wasn't that what people did? The again, did the average person think this long about something so trivial. As it happened the moment passed as soon as a fourth member of of the group joined them on the couch, settling itself right on Heath's lap. He considered just picking the thing up and throwing it onto the floor, but he figured that wouldn't go down to well. He could see that Poppy was growing increasingly anxious as the rabbit refused to move, which only made Heath chuckle beneath his breath."It's okay." Ignoring his first impulse, Heath carefully scooped up the rabbit in his hands and set it down carefully on the floor.
Even as he was settling himself back into his seat, Heath could hear Heather piping up from the other end of the sofa, already making her excuses to leave, which should have come to a surprise to precisely no one in the room. I mean could he blame her? Would he want to sit in a room and spend the night with two people who were going out? He probably wouldn't want to spend a night with anyone for that matter. Well, almost anyone.
Standing, Heath smiled apologetically at the two of them. "You know what? I figure you two want a moment alone to talk through a few things. I'll just go rummage through Poppy's drinks cabinet or something and let the two of you talk this out." Stepping around the rabbit, Heath paused for a moment and turned. "By the way, Heather, it was nice to meet you. I just wish you could have found out about this-- us, under better circumstances." Awkwardly standing there for a second while he tired to think of something more poignant to say... or anything to say, Heath just simply nodded. "Okay. I'll get out of your hair." Shuffling back into the kitchen, Heath busied himself by looking through Poppy's various drawers and cupboards, wanting to give the two girl's as much space as possible. The last thing they probably waned was his awkward ass right in the middle of the two of them.
The Real Housewives of Tartarus || Heath & Alana
Sticking her feet back up on the edge of the desk as Heath stood up and paced, Alana took a sizable drag off her own cigarette, somehow managing to look the poster of femininity. “I think I liked you better when you weren’t a gentleman.” A big part of Alana wanted to sigh and walk out. It wasn’t the friend she’d left in Tartarus and frankly she didn’t know what to do with him now that he wasn’t perpetually angry at everyone. The journalist cogs starting turning in her head the longer he spoke about the little material he had to work with, which meant something had seriously changed in his life since her absence and a lot of her was dying to find out what.
“I guess if that’s what you call losing your edge,” she said lethargically, tapping her foot to a tune in her head only she could hear at that very moment. “I prefer ‘burning out’ equally as satisfying to the tip of the tongue.” Alana Elben never prided herself on being nice, and there were one of a few options she could take at this point.
If Alana was a good friend, she might sit up listen to whatever story he had for in stride. She’d show just the right emotions at just the right times and then the friendship they had could be considered genuine. Not that the camaraderie they shared now wasn’t genuine, but it was a genuine pain in the ass for Tartarus. Another one of her options were to admit defeat, put out her cigarette on the handle of his office chair and leave in a storm of heels and silence, but she wasn’t one to leave quietly nor admit defeat. That plan was surely scratched before it even started. On the other hand, she could demand answers to his innermost thoughts and not leave until she got them. That sounded more like something she’d do but was not conniving enough to become an executed plan either. What Alana would end up doing was weaseling it out of Heath. Slowly and surely like a splinter that just refused to give up the fight.
“Disappointing? Not yet. But it still has the potential to be.” She let her ashes fall to the floor before she took another smaller drag. She debated for a some small moments whether she’d flat out ask or play coy for a little while longer. She wanted to know what had crawled under his skin, other than the brother he most of the time didn’t like. It had to be more than familial problems that were eating away at his resolve to hate the town to its core. “So what is it? Someone put something in your cornflakes besides piss this morning? Someone twiddle your diddle?” She waggled her eyebrows in his direction, curious if he’d managed to fall into someone’s arms while she was away. He’d never let her set him up, and for the most part she didn’t push him on that…much. She enjoyed the matchmaking at the beginning. The weddings are what she hoped to ruin.
"Burning out?" Rounding on Alana, Heath eyed her up incredulously. The words had stung a little harder than he'd expected, hitting a nerve in him. But what could he do? Hit her? She'd probably take that in her stride. And she was a far better wordsmith than he ever could be. If he even tried to attack her verbally she could probably twist his words so much that in the end he'd be hurting himself more than her. He refused to let this get to him. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to get to tell you all my deepest darkest secrets, but you forget that I know you better than most. And we're more alike than you think. Don't try and play a player."
Still, if anything, Heath was the epitome of pride and to have it wounded so easily was something he wasn't going to take lying down. Maybe this had been exactly the wake up call he'd needed. For the past few weeks he'd been looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses. He'd let remarks slip by that earlier he would have pounced on. He'd lowered his walls just a fraction and let people get closer to him. Perhaps a little too close. And all because of a girl. A girl who'd got him wound up so tightly that he'd almost completely turned his back on the man he used to be. No, the man he was.
Why couldn't he be a cold, heartless bastard half of the time and be the person who loved Poppy Nysion? Were the two mutually exclusive? He could two the line between them if he wanted, and why? Because he was Heath Motherfucking Celton, dammit! The guy who'd somehow managed to survive the most hellish childhood imaginable and dragged his brother out with him. The guy who not only disabled to armed robbers, but also managed to get the girl at the end. He could do whatever he wanted.
"It's nothing." Heath finally responded. "I've had a strange few weeks is all. I just needed to wake up and smell the roses." He stubbed the cigarette out on the edge of his desk, throwing what remained into the waste paper basket by his feet. "You're right though, I was burning out. But don't for a second think you can talk to me like that again. I like you, but my patience is very thin. You should know that." The desk creaked as he perched himself on the edge of it by Alana, taking the cigarette from her hand. "An this is the last freebie you get from me." He made a large sneer before taking a drag from the cigarette.
With Hammers and Nails | Heather, Poppy & Heath
Heath may have made some excuses as to why he was at Poppy’s at this time of night, but Heather wasn’t paying much attention. She hadn’t met him before and this was probably the first time she’d really ever seen him up close, and Heather was trying to see what about him had been so special to Poppy. She looked at him curiously, taking in his appearance and essentially sizing him up. Poppy had dated a few guys in the time they’d been friends, but none had ever caught her interest for very long, so Heather was very interested to know what about Heath Celton had her weak in the knees. He was handsome, Heather admitted, in an older, harder sort of way, and being a mechanic he was certainly strong. She had to give it to her best friend, she could have done a whole lot worse.
Heath made his excuses to leave, and Heather had been ready to tell him goodnight, it was nice to meet you, and then Poppy spoke up. No, stay, she had said, and Heather felt an unfamiliar feeling burn through her chest, and suddenly drinking so much had been a horrible idea, and she couldn’t help but notice that she was more excited to have Heath stay over with them than she had been when Heather had shown up at the door, and the fact that girls’ night was about to become date night left a funny taste in Heather’s mouth. And then Poppy was ushering him into the living room, and Heather was still in the doorway, and it felt like she might as well not be there at all.
It was a feeling that Heather had long grown used to in many social settings, but it wasn’t something she ever thought she would associate with Poppy. But she focused on picking out a movie and pretended it didn’t bother her that Poppy and Heath were probably having a private moment in her kitchen. Penelope hopped over by the console while Heather stared mindlessly at the movie selection. She finally settled on an action flick that was gory and ridiculous. Good, she thought to herself. Something disgusting.
Movie having been decided, she decided to venture into the kitchen, knowing she’d probably be walking in on some sappy moment. She cleared her throat and tugged on the ends of her hair. “I, um, picked a movie,” she said slowly. “But, if you want me to go, I can always call someone - if you decide you want some time alone, I’d understand,” she offered, torn between wanting Poppy to insist that she stay and validate their friendship, and being allowed to leave this awkward situation.
Heath was glad to be rid of the flowers when Poppy took them from his hands. Not because he regretted buying them or anything, but simply because it felt strange for him to be carrying around such a delicate thing. On the way over he kept checking them to make sure they hadn't died just by being in proximity to him. As Poppy filled a vase with water, Heath kept casting quick glances in Heather's direction, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know a thing about her when it came down to it. The only reason he was even vaguely aware of her was because she was a friend of Poppy's. But honestly, what did he know about her? Was she likely to tell everyone about Poppy and his relationship? Could he really trust her to keep a secret?
What was he saying? It sounded like he was plotting to murder her over a simple relationship, which was ridiculous. Heath, despite all his bravado, probably couldn't kill anybody. Maybe he could hire that Thane fellow though, Heath mused to himself with a small chuckle. No, it looked like this thing with himself and Poppy was destined to come out, one way or another. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should just let it. It would certainly make his life a hell of a lot easier. Just getting those damn flowers up here without being seen had been a nightmare.
He broke his gaze away from Heather as Poppy leaned up towards him to whisper something in his ear. "Coffee..?" It took Heath a moment to realise what it was exactly that she was proposing, but when it did his puzzled look soon vanished, only to be replaced by a wide smile. "Why, Miss Nysion..." He moved a hand across her body, placing it on the counter just behind her. Moving himself up close to her, Heath let his lips hover just inches away from hers and grinned. "I never knew you had it in you." If not for Heather stepping into the kitchen and announcing her presence, Heath probably would have done a lot more than just kiss Poppy then.
Tearing himself away, Heath retreated slowly across the kitchen, putting a bit of a gap between him and Poppy. "Don't be silly." Heath said. "I should be the one who's going, but I don't think our gracious host would allow that either." He cast a cheeky smile at Poppy. "You two just get on with your night or whatever. Pretend I'm not even here. I'll just find a corner and sit in it quietly. I'm quite good at that."
A Crash Course in Polite Conversation | Zach and Heath
In hopes of salvaging the night in one aspect, Zach had opted for one of his parade dishes - steaks with a generous amount of roasted potatoes and vegetables on the side, thick red wine sauce poured above. It was simple but effective and allowed him to let his mind wander whenever it needed to, knowing the recipe inside and out. It was a fail-safe that he’d used on a number of occasions. From what he could remember, it was a dish well liked by his brother as well. It wasn’t too complicated either. Honestly, he’d probably put more thought into what would be the least provoking dish to serve than the actual taste.
He was fiddling with a shirt, eyeing it in the mirror before pulling it off in a brisk move. He’d found a pair of darker jeans, no brand in particular. They clung to his hips in an uncomfortable way, having never previously worn them. But the thought of opening the door in an array of brands hanging off of his body, rubbing his success in Heath’s face, it couldn’t happen. Eventually Zach found a simple black button-down shirt which he sighed tiredly at in the mirror before surrendering and leaving the closet.
The scent of the meat filled the apartment, assuring him that everything was as it should be. He’d suggested for Heath to bring the beverage and though he was practically jumping in his place, Zach refrained from placing anything other than a pitcher of water on the table. After which he walked through the apartment for at least 3 times, pulling at pillows and smoothing out blankets, shortly followed by Zach returning to rustle them up instead - breaking the faultless facade as best as he could.
Zach shot up from the couch as the doorbell rang, hurrying towards the door without actually opening it. Instead he closed his eyes momentarily, breathing in and out deeply once, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. He shoved a hand down his pocket, using the other one to pull at the lock and handle. The first thing Zach noticed was a bottle of gin, the sight offering some comfort. “Hey.” The word left his mouth, followed by a release of air, chest settling in a normal rhythm. “Come in. Let me take that. Thanks for bringing, you know, medicine,” Zach said, raising the bottle as he held it, instantly regretting his choice of word.
He walked into the kitchen area, motioning for Heath to come with. “So, do you want a… tour?” He grimaced, unsure of what the appropriate course of action would be. “It’s not that big. I mean,” Zach paused, turning away from Heath to stir the sauce simmering in a pan. “Dinner’s almost ready. You can take a seat if you want, or walk around.” This was already going worse than imagined, his words continously failing him.
As the door opened, Heath's hopes that he might not have to go through with dinner tonight were suddenly crushed. No! He was being positive tonight! This was gonna be great and not awkward in the slightest! People went for meals with their family all the time. Heath had been able to skip out on doing that for years. It was about time he did his time. He smiled as brightly as he could as his brother greeted him, and tried his hardest to keep eye contact as he spoke. Honestly though, Heath was much more interested in looking at Zach's home, and much much better off he was. As a result, his eye's kept drifting, until Zach invited him in.
"It's nice." And that wasn't just Heath being polite, it genuinely was a nice place. Not too small, but not too big either. Sort of minimalist, which is something Heath had tried to replicate in his own house. Unsuccessfully, he might add. But really that was just heath being too lazy to finish the job himself and being too tight with his money to pay someone to do it for him. Still, looking at the place now, Heath wondered if a place like this would work for him. Sure it looked nice and pristine now, but if Heath was living there for a month, it'd just look like a bomb had gone off. His reluctance to clean or do anything that was remotely considered housework was probably the main reason his own home looked a lot cheaper and nastier than it actually was.
Inspecting some of the ornaments along the side, he gave Zach a cursory glance and nodded. "Thanks. I'll just wander. But if I see anything nice, I can't promise I won't take it for my own apartment." He laughed and made his way over to the large set of windows across the room. Now this is all that Heath really wanted out a home. A view. Heath couldn't even begin to count the hours that he'd sat at home brooding in the dark, wishing for a good view. Instead, he had to look out onto a car park, where he was 90% sure that people were dealing drugs.
"You know, mom always said you'd do well." Heath said out of the blue. He wasn't even sure where it could from. Maybe just seeing his brother's achievements had made his nostalgic. "I guess she was right." There was no hint of malice or jealousy in Heath's voice. Maybe because he was a little proud of Zach. Proud that he'd made it out of that childhood and done something meaningful. As long as some good had come of it, well, then that made Heath a little happier. "So, what are we eating?"
With Hammers and Nails | Heather, Poppy & Heath
Heather had to admit, eating mindlessly with her best friend did help to cheer her up. But it might have had more to do with the wine than the actual food. As time passed, Heather found herself reasonably tipsy and enjoying the tingling feeling in her extremities. Poppy, being Poppy, made her usual observation that the drinks tasted like pomegranate, and Heather just laughed her off. Heather was of the opinion that pomegranate didn’t really taste like anything, so she supposed anything could taste like it.
After eating a substantial amount of food had been consumed by both parties, they both decided to try and find a movie to watch. Luckily, nothing even vaguely romantic was on Poppy’s mind, which suited Heather perfectly. She was in no mood to watch a cheesy romantic comedy or a sappy love story. In fact, it’d be better if love was kept out of the story altogether, in her opinion. “Definitely action with guns,” she said, nodding her head vigorously. She was vaguely aware of Penelope hopping up on her back, and she stayed as still as possible so the bunny wouldn’t fall and hurt herself. After Penelope hopped off, she continued to debate movies with Poppy.
“I mean, there’s always Die Hard, or even just James Bond, or did you still have Mission Impossible? You can’t go wrong with those classics, right?” she suggested, skimming over the collections of movies that Poppy had lying underneath her television. “Or we could go with Kung-Fu Panda…” she trailed off. It wasn’t an action movie with guns, but it wasn’t romantic by any means, either.
Poppy was about to respond when the doorbell rang, and when she asked Heather if she’d been expecting anyone all she could do was shake her head dumbly. She watched as Poppy crossed the room, opening the door to reveal a man whom Heather could only assume was Heath Celton, from the way Poppy’s body tensed up and then just as suddenly relaxed. They spoke in hushed tones, and by the time Heather had a clue what was going on, Poppy was inviting him inside, looking incredibly uncomfortable.
“Hi, I’m Heather,” she said, taking initiative and walking over to the doorway, sticking out her hand for Heath to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
"I know I probably should have called or something. Are the flowers overkill..? I feel like they'r--" Heath didn't have time to finish his thought. Poppy had practically jumped at him and for a moment he feared he'd lose his balance completely and fall back against the wall behind him. But something kept him upright and he was all too happy to return Poppy's sudden outburst of affection. He held the flowers well out of reach, hoping to God he didn't accidentally crush or drop them. His other arm was quick to slip around her supple waist, lifting her just a little bit. "I missed you too." And God was it true. Every time they parted, the ability to stay away from her for too long became just that little bit harder.
As she indicated the flowers he'd bought, Heath's cheeks became a little red and he lowered his gaze, smiling sheepishly at the floor. "I don't know what made me buy them. I guess I just saw it in a film one time... well a hundred times actually. Have I mentioned how unoriginal I am?" Between Poppy tackling him in the hallway and trying to explain away his gift, Heath had scarcely had chance to even look in Poppy's apartment. A decision he soon came to regret when he heard someone clear their throat. The colour drained immediately from Heath's face as someone else came to the door, her hand extended out towards him.
Heath was all too quick to disentangle himself from Poppy, taking a subconscious step away from her. "Oh, er... hi. You Poppy's friend, right? And you're at Poppy's place because... well, why wouldn't you be?" I knew I should have called. "I was just-- just, delivering these flowers. They must have been sent to me by mistake, when they were clearly meant for Miss, um... Nysion." Even Heath could tell this wasn't going to fly. A child could probably call his bluff at this point. With a resigned sigh, his body seemed to relax a little and he reluctantly took Heather's hand, shaking it. "This is quickly becoming the worst kept secret in Tartarus," he mumbled as he released Heather's hand.
He stepped into the apartment just behind Poppy, placing a hand on her lower back, whilst pressing his lips against the top of her head. "Should I come back later?" He whispered to her. Just one glance around the apartment confirmed to Heath that this was supposed to be a girl's night. The two of them probably didn't want him there about as much as he did. Somehow he doubted they'd all be drinking wine and playing Twister by the end of the night.
The Real Housewives of Tartarus || Heath & Alana
Her feet hit the ground with a thud and she frowned a little at him, but with a grin on his face that said he was giving her a lot more slack than he did most people, she just straightened up in the chair and crossed her legs at the knee. “I am,” she laughed, taking one of those cigarettes he offered. “Don’t you know I’m omniscient?” All in all, she might as well have been omniscient, but not that anyone knew, and part of her liked it that way. For all the citizens of Tartarus knew, she was just Fashion and Society Editor. It was her formal title over at the Chronicle and when anyone asked that’s all she was, but even that part of her job gave her an all access pass to the lives of the finest citizens of Tartarus.
“Zach? He visited me at lunch today,” she said with a raised eyebrow. Call it old fashioned suspicion, but despite how friendly Zach Celton appeared, Alana wondered if the reuniting of the brothers was to help his campaign. “He knows no one can dress him better for the upcoming campaign,” she commented nonchalantly about Heath’s brother’s visit to her during office hours. It wasn’t a big deal really that Zach had come to see her that day, he came to see her every time an important event popped up where he had to dress nice. “Wonder why he wants to reunify…” She mused aloud.
Heath was right about one thing, though. It had been too long since she’d perused her way around his offices. She liked to think she brought out the best in him, and by the best she meant the worst. She was sure that she was one of a handful of people that could make the Heath Celton turn that frown upside down. She was also probably one of the only ones that fucked everyone’s stuff up along with him. Though when Alana was involved, it was much more discreet, which anyone could admire. “Do you have a lighter or are you going to make me dig through that monster?” She asked, waving her unlit cigarette towards her purse. Sometimes she hated that thing, hated carrying anything at all, but even she had to admit it was useful. Cell phone, make up to touch up, cigarettes, cash, credit card. You name it, she probably carried it around. Except extra clothes. For some reason, Alana couldn’t bring herself to carry a purse big enough to carry extra clothes—that was just going too far.
“What kind of trouble are we getting into today?” She asked, twirling the little stick of tobacco around her finger, an impish grin tracing her lips. She’s been all work, work, work since she’s been back around the city, the visit with Zach included, and any visit to Heath wasn’t just for the sake his company, though sometimes she did enjoy just that. It was dysfunctional at the best of times, and nonexistent at the worst, but somewhere in between they were friends, and you couldn’t convince Alana that all friends didn’t make good natured sport out of hating everyone in town. She finally stopped playing with the cigarette and stuck it between her lips, uncrossing her legs and leaning in close, said, “Between you and me, I need a new story anyways.” Whether he knew it or not, was no concern of hers, but pulling up a good scandal for the paper definitely wouldn’t hurt her career. She wouldn’t even had to write the story herself, which was one of the biggest perks of being Editor. She could pass it off to someone else to do all the grunt work. Oh yeah, her job was easy. “So,” Alana spoke again, standing up from Heath’s desk, “what’ll it be today?”
Flicking the lighter on, Heath went to light Alana's cigarette before his own. "Don't let it ever be said that I'm not a gentleman." He remarked with a small grin before bringing the lighter back to his own cigarette. After lighting it, he threw the lighter onto his desk and took a deep drag as he considered her question. Well, what would it be today? What exactly Heath been doing the last few weeks. Usually their little sessions were full to brim of him bitching about every person in town about every single thing they'd done. Hell, one week he'd gone on a thirty minute rant about how someone had dropped some litter outside of his apartment building. And honestly Heath didn't even care that much. His building was a cesspool anyway, one more piece of litter wasn't going to change that. Most of the time, his whining and loathing of others amounted to the unhappiness deeply set in his own life.
Lately though things had been different. Part of that was down to the fact he and his brother were on speaking terms again, but mostly it was due to the fact that he'd been somewhat... distracted as of late. Turns out passively hating everyone and their mother was a lot more work than it seemed. Especially when you were infatuated with the local florist. Yeah, there was something he definitely wasn't going to tell Alana about. He was sure that would make for a great story, but he still wasn't exactly comfortable about admitting the two of them were in a relationship. If you could even call it that. Of course there was a 99% chance Alana would find out about the two of them soon enough anyway. That little brat at the party had already found out about them. And she hadn't even been trying!
He jumped up from the desk as soon as he'd taken his first drag of the cigarette and began pacing up and down the room. "I don't know, things have been dying down around here lately. People aren't been asshats as much as they used to be. Or maybe they are and I just haven't been paying attention." He tapped some ashes onto the floor. The office was already a dump, he didn't really care that much about it's upkeep.
"I guess I've just lost my edge over the past few weeks." The thought alone was unsettling. For God knows how long, this was all Heath had been, and he'd been comfortable with that. He'd known his place and where exactly he stood with people. But now..? He didn't even know what to think. He couldn't simply hate Zach out of principle any more. And with Poppy came a whole mess of trouble. As if to vent a little frustration, Heath took another drag from his cigarette and sauntered over to the window. "I bet this is turning out to be a disappointing session for you, huh?"
With Hammers and Nails | Heather, Poppy & Heath
Poppy chewed on her lip nervously as Heather spoke, saying she believed Poppy that Heath was nothing like his father. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and smiled at her friend as Heather said she was ready to meet Heath any time Poppy was ready to introduce them. “I’ll definitely tell him,” Poppy said, and she meant it. “I know the secret’s safe with you and if he tries to get me to think otherwise, I’ll just knock some sense into him. If he wants to see me then he has to know you’re part of the package deal!” She grinned, poking Heather in the shoulder, glad to know Heather was on her side about things.
Maybe the tense atmosphere of the night could improve now?
But then, as Heather began to talk about Thane, Poppy felt immense guilt for trying to act like the whole thing was no big deal. She’d never known Heather to have a crush before, not in a long while at least, and while Poppy had had many a crush that never led anywhere, she knew Heather was the kind of girl that didn’t get flustered about someone unless she really liked them.
“Hey, Heather-feather, come on,” Poppy cooed, using an old endearment that she hadn’t for ages as she set a sympathetic hand on Heather’s shoulder. She felt a flare of protectiveness simmer inside of her and had the sudden urge to track Thane down and demand what had made him hurt her friend so much. But she knew she couldn’t hold this against him, because she didn’t know the man. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t ask about the encounter herself, if she ever met this Thane Lovell.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” Poppy tried to ease to Heather, hating that her friend seemed so uncomfortable. “You’re too wonderful to have driven him away, and I mean that. You’re kind and smart and funny and pretty; who could run from that? Maybe he was a bit intimidated was all. I mean, what if he thought you were just so cute he ended up bolting because he was scared? And besides that, it was only your guys’ first meeting; try and keep hope for the second one, yeah?”
With another smile, Poppy gave Heather a moment to ponder before clapping her hands together. “Alright, you know what, enough boy-moping. Let’s eat dinner; I am starving. And then we can watch a movie or something. Preferably one with action. Not some dumb chick-flick,” Poppy said, wrinkling her nose. They had enough chick-flicks of their own. “Ooo, we should watch something with Bruce Willis in it! He’s pretty sexy for an old guy.”
Years after Heath had left home, vowing never to look back, he thought back on his childhood. More specifically to his parents and how they acted around one another. Heath's most prominent memories of his father were his violent outbursts. How prone he was to snap at the simplest things. Sometimes he didn't even need a reason. Heath just thought that the man enjoyed cruelty. And whenever Heath thought back to his mother, his most vivid memories were of her crying. He never remembered the two of them laughing, or kissing or even touching one another. Not affectionately anyway.
Heath often found himself wondering if there was a time when they did love each other. If maybe they'd been happy once. They had to have been, didn't they? They'd had two kids together. They'd gotten married. There were pictures all over his family home of the two of them smiling and embracing one another, but they all looked so forced to him. At what point did a man look at the woman he once loved and decide that he hated her? When did he decide instead that he'd get much more enjoyment out of her hurting her? Out of hurting everyone close to him. Was it a slow change or did it happen overnight? Did he even realise it had happened? These were the types of questions that had haunted Heath for years and they only grew more worrisome when he met Poppy.
It wasn't uncommon for Heath to have bad days. Those type of days where he just wanted to put his fist through a wall. He imagined his father was much the same. Only one day instead of taking his frustrations out on the wall, he took them out on his wife. Was it inconceivable that Heath would do the same? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all. But whenever Heath brought this up, Poppy was always quick to reassure him. To remind him that he wasn't his father. And something about it had stuck with him. Something made him want to prove her right. To show that maybe he could be different. Maybe he wasn't doomed to repeat the sins of the father.
So that's why Heath was here, outside Poppy's apartment. To prove to her, himself and his father that he wouldn't be like him. That he was his own person. He knocked twice on the door and then put on his best smile possible as he held a bouquet of flowers in front of himself. He'd had to go a little out of town to get the flowers, because of course the one person who sold flowers nearby, happened to be the only person he actually wanted to buy them for. Not really knowing what kind to get, he'd opted, in the end, for jasmines. His mothers flower. Now maybe it could be Poppy's too.
Hanni el Khatib- You Rascal You
The Real Housewives of Tartarus || Heath & Alana
It wasn’t often she took the scenic walk back to her apartment. Not often at all. Usually at the end of her work day heels were not worth wearing that morning and she wanted her feet to die, though most days any pair of shoes would make her feet want to jump off a cliff by this time in the evening, and lugging a heaving briefcase with articles to review and edit before they made the final cut certainly didn’t help her sinking ship of a mood on the walk home. The only thing that kept her walking as she trudged along was the thought of a warm bath to run in her apartment. Maybe some bubbles. She could throw her hair up, light a handful of candles, sink down into the water, and enjoy reading in a good book while she soaked her aches and pains away. If Alana was lucky, she could convince a foot rub out of someone while she edited those silly articles to be sent to the Editor in Chief the following week. She was fantasized about the selection of wine she had in the cellar back home when she heard the familiar rattle and clank of power tools on vehicles. She didn’t often come by on business needs, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t familiar. This was Heath’s territory, and he was a friendly face she hadn’t seen in too long.
Her tired feet groaned in protest to the clicking of her heels across the concrete sidewalk and through the door. The little ding of the bell above the door gave away her entrance into the shop and all the guys looked up at Alana like she was lost. The skirt suit she had donned earlier in the morning for work all but said she was in the wrong place, but Alana knew the maze of offices behind the desk like her own building and walked up to the said desk like it was her own building. “Is Heath in?” she inquired as politely as she could muster. Quite frankly, this late in the day she didn’t have much patience and all the mechanics that were staring at her as they passed through the lobby area were starting to piss her off. If not for the welcome rumble of Heath’s voice coming from the behind the desk, she might have snapped at them at any given moment. “Oh thank heavens you’re in town,” she muttered out with a heavy sigh, slipping behind the counter like she owned the place. It wasn’t uncommon for Alana to shove her way around places, though. She stood a mere five foot six without her heels and to be taken seriously as a woman, she had to have a demanding presence, and that was something she had mastered at this point in her life.
The way to his office wasn’t as confusing as some building she had been in, and she perched herself in the chair behind his desk, propping her weary feet on the edge of the wooden structure. “How long has it been now?” She asked with a slight tilt up of the corner of her mouth as she spoke. He was almost her partner in crime when it came to they toyed with the citizens of Tartarus and a distant part of Alana knew that she should feel remorseful, that she should stay away from Heath and his infectious, mischievous carelessness he had when he walked through the streets. Parts of her were torn between wanting to just give in and cause havoc all the time, but part of her couldn’t stop the blossoms of new love saw, picked, and nurtured into full grown plants that would last a lifetime. It made her both angry and self-loathing. Angry at the couple, angry at herself, angry at Henry, angry at Ace. But after she tore herself from the depths of her deepest thoughts, she flashed her teeth in a devilish grin, and asked in her best reporter voice, “Tell me, Mr. Celton, what have I missed in my absence?”
There really wasn't anything more infuriating to Heath than a problem that he couldn't fix. Okay, maybe stepping on a plug was a little more infuriating, but this was still up there. He'd spent days trying to get this car to run to no avail. He must have replaced nearly every part and yet it still refused to start. After what must have been the hundredth attempt, he gave it up for a lost cause and put a hammer through the windshield. The owner could bill him for it later. Heath was still in far too much of a bad mood to care.
So after that disaster of a morning, he decided to simply lock himself in the back of the garage, warning his staff that if anyone interrupted him , he'd do the same thing to their face as he'd done to the windshield. That seemed to do the trick, since he barely heard a peep from the other mechanics for the rest of the day. Later in the day when someone came into the garage asking for him, Heath was this close to getting up and verbally assaulting them, when he suddenly recognised the voice. "Alana!" He shouted, knowing that was all it would take to get her attention. Really, she was probably one of about three people who could have walked into his office today and not incurred his wrath. She was also about one of the only people who could benefit from his heightened sense of anger today.
A smile broke out across his face when she walked into the room. A genuine smile. How many people could say they'd seen one of those from Heath Celton recently? There was something very endearing about the way she so callously sat behind his desk, in his own chair, and propped her feet up. He could pretty much guarantee that if someone else had done that he would have broken their nose. But Alana got a pass. Alana always got a pass. Why? Well for the longest time, Heath felt like she was the only one who really understood him. Certainly she was the only one who tolerated him. And honestly, he actually liked her. He liked the fact that she really just didn't give a crap. He liked the fact that not only did she not care about his disdain for the majority of the residents of Tartarus, but that she fed it. She found him new ways to hate people. New ways to screw with people. On his own, Heath was merely a blunt instrument. He could hurt people in the most obvious ways. Alana was surgical though. She knew exactly how best to hurt those around her, in the most spectacular ways possible. To put it simply, she was the brains, he was the brawn.
Closing the door to his office and locking it, Heath approached his desk. "Too long." He replied as he came around the desk. Pushing her feet aside, he perched himself on the edge of the desk, folding his arms. "Oh, I don't think you've missed all that much. My brother's visited me a couple of times. I think he wants to reunite the Celton family. A useless endeavour if I ever saw one, but I'm happy to placate him. Oh and some guy who murdered someone just got released from prison and is blundering around town. That's gonna be good for tourism." He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one in his mouth and then offered one to Alana. "But I'm sure you already know much more than I do. Aren't you the eyes and ears of Tartarus?"
A Crash Course in Polite Conversation | Zach and Heath
So Heath was going to dinner. Dinner with Zach. Alone. Just the two of them. In his enormous house. Heath with absolutely no social graces was going to dinner. Why had he agreed to do this again? Boy those one and a half beers he'd had at that party must have really done a number on him. The only instruction Zach had given him was to take booze. Fair enough. They were gonna need something to get them through the evening anyway. In fact Heath had gone so far as to start the evening a little early, opting to have a couple of glasses of vodka before he went out. Just a little liquid courage, he kept telling himself.
The streets themselves were surprisingly empty for a Friday night. It was actually quite eerie to have to walk through Tartarus without seeing someone and then having the opportunity to completely ignore them, as was Heath's custom. Heath paused in horror as he realised the entire population of Tartarus might be at Zach's place for some sort of surprise party. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for that. But no, Zach wouldn't do that to him. Plus, who would actually agree to throw a party for Heath? No, he was just being stupid. This was just gonna be a nice, friendly evening of meaningless small talk, possibly undercooked food and far too much alcohol. The exact recipe for every Celton family gathering ever. The most memorable was that time their uncle had bought some eggs he'd found on the market, claiming they were not only cheaper, but better tasting than their organic counterparts. The next day, everyone had salmonella poisoning.
Zach's house loomed ahead in the distance, the lights from inside drawing Heath to it like a beacon. All the way up, Heath tried to figure out just how best to greet his brother. Nothing seemed quite adequate and before he knew it, Heath was at the door, a bottle of gin in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Stubbing it out on his jeans, Heath threw the cigarette into the bushes and knocked on the door. Hey, maybe he'd get lucky. Maybe Zach would have had the same idea as himself and elected to get drunk beforehand. He could be lying on the couch right now, passed out. Wishful thinking had never exactly worked out for Heath though.
Behind Blue Eyes - The Who
The Life of the Party | Heath & Zach
Though he was still partly awaiting the moment when he could choose the wrong words and ruin the moment they were having, giving his brother a reason to push him away once again, Zach could see the walls built up between them slowly decreasing in size. He was careful not to force it down into the ground with his bare hands, it was crucial for it to take its time. It was surely going to rise up a feet or two once again, but as long as it continued to lower - revealing Heath on the other side inch by inch - they were on the right track. At least that’s what Zach told himself and because of it, Heath’s defensive tone hurt less. Besides, he had felt his own limbs tense up from the initial meet, getting ready to sprint off and leave what used to be the inevitable wreckage. Force of habit is what it was.
“No, it’s okay.” I’ve heard much worse. Zach thought, forcing the words down into his chest, away from the surface where they could only do damage at this point. He followed Heath’s gaze to the people around them, seeing Poppy as well as she walked past them. He felt somewhat thankful that she hadn’t noticed them. It was selfish, Zach knew that, but he wanted this for himself. His brother.
“Sorry. I just feel like everyone’s waiting for me to throw a chair at you or something.” Zach let out a nervous yet unfeigned laugh at the imagery in his mind, sharing a glance with his brother. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve picked a less crowded place for this.” A smile lingered on his lips before eventually smoothing out completely. “Hey, let’s have dinner or something this week. At my place?” He suggested, unsure of whether Heath would want to have Zach come into his own home. He barely even knew where that was, had he even been there? He couldn’t recall.
“Although,” Zach paused, gaze turned downwards in a puzzled look, “I’m quite fond of my chairs.” He continued, followed by a low chuckle.
"Dinner? At your place? With actual food and stuff?" The question had caught Heath a little off guard. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had dinner anywhere but his own place. In fact he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had anything but microwave food and takeaways. It was a wonder his heart hadn't given out on him by now. Although some would question his heart's very existence, but that was a topic for another time. He was about done with his own self-pitying shtick for one day.
Still, Zach's question was still left hanging in the air, unanswered, partly because Heath was of two minds about the whole thing. Sure it'd be nice to catch up with his brother and maybe get a well-cooked meal for once. But he was also a little cautious about the whole thing. Of seeing how the other half lived. Their paths had taken very different turns at a young age. Heath lived in a small run-down apartment and barely made ends meet some months. Zach lived in the lap of luxury. He should have been proud his little brother had done so well, but all Heath ever felt was envy.
He considered for a moment just asking Zach to come to his place instead, but he didn't think he'd be able to take the looks of pity his brother would give him. Worse still if he offered him charity. His own little brother having to bail him out of his tiny little existence. No, Heath couldn't think of anything worse. "Dinner at yours sounds good." He said after what must have been an uncomfortably long pause. "I'll try not to crack you over the head with one of your fancy chairs if you overcook the meal or whatever."
Taking a cigarette from his jacket, Heath lit it. It was a habit Heath had picked up back in his moody, rebellious teenage years that he hadn't been quite able to kick. "So is um... is anyone else gonna be there? For the dinner, I mean?" Having to make do without an ashtray, Heath simply deposited his cigarette ashes into an empty glass on the table. "Not that I'd mind if there was. It's just that a heads-up would be nice."
Mogwai - Take Me Somewhere Nice
Imitation of Life, R.E.M.
