
Origami Around
DEAR READER
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
YOU ARE THE REASON

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if i look back, i am lost
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@jonassrgnt
          because there was no god, there wasnât a light that jonas looked bad in. aristotle looked at the side of his face, half illuminated in orange with the light from the kitchen stove outlining his profile. he wasnât sure what was hiding in jonasâs expression, in the shadows under his eyes, but he knew it wasnât anger; whatever it was, it was blue and fading. sometimes aristotle felt that way, too. eyes snapped back to him and he looked away quickly, feeling like heâd been caught doing something he shouldnât â or wasnât allowed to â do. aristotle was holding onto a blunt blade, and longing still cut across his palms whenever he thought of beds becoming unmade, or jerseys left in odd places on staircases. he needed to put the knife down, but aristotle didnât know what would be left if he took the sharpness away now. â such an asshole, â he declared, again, because this wasnât the first time theyâd had this conversation. it was the first time aristotle hadnât punctured the words by putting his hands in jonasâs pants, though. it was an achievement, of sorts. â some freaks just shouldnât be allowed to spawn shit, you know ?  like kids, or fifteen fuckinâ ferraris. â he pushed himself off from the counter, stepping out of jonasâs space entirely. tension left the room like someone had opened a window. â tell her to quit, and iâll hire her. â aristotle would build an entire empire, become an army of one, to give jonasâs maâ a job that covered free dental and gave her the shit she deserved.
With the sudden gain in personal space, Jonas could ignore the sense of lost that swarmed in his own personal air. At times like this, when the loss was like a white hot heat burning into his chest, Jonas regretted a lot. It was only meant to be fun, it was only meant to be something to pass time when the lust was too much to handle or in those weak late nights together. But in some way, it had formed into something more, a best friend, a confidant, and a desire that never seemed to be filled. The only solution was to bring the can back to his lips for another long pull of the alcohol hidden inside. âI didnât know you were looking for a personal nurseâ, was the only appropriate response that came to mind. With dinner all but done, there wasnât too much he could continue to distract himself with anymore. Which only meant one thing, it was time for the real challenge to start. âYou know sheâll never quit, as much as she hates her boss, she loves her job. I just think the hospital needs to get their shit together and just fire this dude and give my mom the promotion sheâs deserved for yearsâ, the safe topic was still the best option, right now. Multi-colored eyes focused on the browning meat, just finishing the last bit of tacos to lay out the rest of the fixings. It was only a few moments before he was announcing that dinner was ready and the loss of all distractions.
arifilter:
         aristotle shrugged a shoulder at jonas like it was nothing and reached for one of the cans, opening it with a soft hiss. it sounded like dis-traction. he refused to close his eyes. â here, â he said, which for aristotle was polite, and might had passed for flippant if it werenât for his hands or how they lingered after handing him the beer. he reached up and brushed his fingers against the inside of jonasâ elbow and up his bicep, where he tugged on the fabric of his jumper. it was disarmingly soft, sort of like the boy underneath it. aristotle looked at his shoulder, the collar of his shirt, his throat, anywhere that wouldnât meet his eyes. all he said was, â your maâs gonnaâ be pissed she missed me, â it was safe territory, safer than asking jonas something stupid or fundamental, like â can we please talk about it now ? â talking wasnât what they did, talking was all they ever did. aristotle didnât want to talk anymore, he still wanted to bite down on his shoulder. â howâs she been ? her boss still actinâ like an asshole ? â he asked, hand falling to his side and feeling resentment in his chest like a second heart.
There was some moments in time that everyone wished they could pause. Either they were the terrible moments they wanted to rewind and redo. Or they were moments that people wanted to live in forever. It was safe to say that Jonas was one of those peoples and that a goof handful of those moments were with this person right here. It felt like his his stomach was caught within his own throat, sealing away any breath that could relieve the tension that creeped up from itâs source. The so familiar fingers on his skin, tracing a path that had once been used and walked on, now desolate and untraveled. A life time ago, the cooking would of been long forgotten for the time of lust and giving into the desires that were tucked away during practice. But now, down he had to hold himself back, now he had to remember his mistakes and the choices his made. No matter how much he wished they could fall back into old routes. Clearing his voice, his vision was focused in on the bubbling sauce and attention on the alcohol brought to his lips. âShe absolutely will be, but someone has to be the adult in our familyâ, he explained, turning off the heat to the pan. Finally, with nothing else to focus on, he looked back to Ari with full attention. âAs always, thinks itâs fun to take advantage of the single mother to take all the open shifts. But sheâs too sweet to say anything.â
@jonassrgntâ
        it was a picturesque house to grow up in, aristotle noted lazily as he put four beers in the fridge, two from the six pack heâd paid some guy in cigarettes to pick up already sitting on the kitchen island. providence itself was a picturesque place if one looked at it like an outsider, which aristotle both was and was not. the relationship was complicated.   â yeah, and before you get pissy, itâs old mil. â  he said, pushing the door closed with his elbow. jonas mentioning he was cooking hadnât been an open invitation, and yet here aristotle was, in his kitchen, eyes scanning the area for something convenient and significantly less green to snack on. he was coming up empty which, as the universe constantly liked to remind him, was a reoccurring theme with jonas. aristotle made a point of looking at the spot over jonasâ shoulder as he spoke next,   â iâm not doing you any favours. â
Steam rose from the pots and pans, scattered haphazardly throughout the kitchen. It was the usual scene whenever his Mom was forced to work more than three days in a row. The young male was left alone to fend for himself, but it was often the times that he took it upon himself to help her out. Meal prep was one of the many guilty pleasures that Jonas had, one of many that Ari was aware of. The sticky sweet scents of the food, spices, and tension easily created an atmosphere left up to deciphering. Blue eyes picked up to watch his actions, maybe all too carefully. Things had always felt like they were walking on eggshells, pushing all too hard for the easy feeling that had once existed. âYou never haveâ, he hummed, letting it seem like his attention had fallen to the sauce he stirred within the deep pot. âBut I wouldnât absolutely hate it if you cracked me open a beer.â Alcohol could only be the solution right here.Â
âI donât have any angel blood, as far as I know.â - Dominic Sherwood
You could think that, I suppose. But you know me. Wishful thinking and all,â she shrugged a shoulder. âHowever, I donât know where you pulled the rest of our lives from, though. Who says weâre going to be friends that long?â She was joking, of course - in reality, she hoped theyâd be in each others lives until they were grey and in an old folks home. She couldnât imagine a life without Jonas in it, and she didnât want to.
It wasnât unusual for the two to hang out like this while Jonas was working; it was one of the better parts of her day. Her sundress clung to her body, but she didnât mind. She was just thankful that she hadnât been wearing any shoes. âExcuse me, I was not ignoring you. I was just oblivious to you,â she playfully glared at him. âYou know how I get when those fashion magazines come out.â It wasnât an unusual thing to occur; when it came to fashion, Leighton entered her own little word and it was often hard to pull her back out. âRight, okay, but Jonas love,â she nodded. âIf you want it, youâre going to have to come and get it,â she challenged, before kicking off and gliding through the water away from him without waiting for a word.
âWow!â, the boy exclaimed, shoving the wet locks away from his face and back into place. Jonas continued to mock the expression of pain and hurt from her words. What else was he supposed to do in order to keep up with her teasing and playful jabs. âYou know, that cut deep. Iâll remember that when I get drafted and you want to meet whatever star youâre currently swooning over at whatever party I might be at. But you wonât be there, because I wonât invite youâ, he babbled out, not truly sure if he was even making sense.Â
Jonas watched as Leighton pushed off and swam away from him. All he really could do was smirk after her, watching the way she moved in the water like he was going to be chasing her down. Two could play this stubborn game well. Instead of pushing off the wall to swim her down, he pulled himself up from water to sit on the edge of the wall. âMaybe I donât want it?â, he asked finally, stripping the old converse from his feet and setting them on the side of the pool. He smirked, waiting for her retaliation.Â
contrary to popular belief, grace didnât enjoy seeing other people hurt. grief was such a heavy word. she felt the weight of it when sheâd read about how daedalus had searched the vastness of the ocean for his son, icarus, and how even the coral on the seabeds had wept for his loss. she felt it again, albeit on a much smaller scale, when jade entered the the confession booth to spill her heart out for a crew of camera men and not gods. jonasâs tone was teasing, light in a way grace had grown to associate with him, so she offered an affectionate glance in his direction and the curve of her mouth. â no, i love jade. i still follow her on instagram. big bitches need other bitches in their corners. â graceâs fingers wrapped under his milky wrist, pulling jonasâ arm into her lap and leaving it to rest there whilst her index finger drifted between a silver feather and bronze band. the length of his arm was a canvas, and he offered it to grace like it was nothing. it was something. â do you think ? â jonasâ unruffled honesty caught grace in places she didnât expect; this time it snagged on her clavicle, resonating with the information that someone else believed in her. â if i made a series including male models, would you audition ? iâve always said youâve got supermodels eyes. you could smolder the nation, babe. destroy us with your beauty. total devastation. â
âThat really doesnât shock me all that much.â Jonas found it absolutely amusing that Grace saw herself as a bitch. Of course, he knew that there was a high possibility that she wasnât seeing it in terms of the negativity the word carried, but the positive side. And if the positive side is what is on the table, then of course he could understand why sheâd see herself as that way. Grace was a force to be reckoned with, passionate about a lot, and someone who never really seemed to be able to stop until the outcome she wanted was the one she had. Negatively, well Grace cared too much for people to really ever seem like a bitch in his book. His attention turned over to the girl beside him, watching the way she worked to make that way too flashy tattoo to stay on his skin for much longer than he would of liked. âI do think, but yeah youâre going to have to find someone else to audition for the male side of things. I donât think youâll see many hockey players modeling much besides dentures and hockey gear.â
â oh, â adrianna says, slightly startled by the figure against the towers. â i ââ i didnât mean to intrude. iâm sorry. itâs just that i, uh ââ i think iâm performing. you know, here at the festival, and the funny thing is i donât even remember agreeing to it. â she pauses, swiftly rolls her tongue across her lips. â itâs just⌠â her voice falls to a whisper. â itâs a lot of people. â
Jonasâ eyes finally peeled open completely, no matter how much he wanted that moment to breathe it seemed like this girl was reaching out for any sort of lifeline to give advice. Not that he was known to give the best advice. âWell, you have two options as far as I see it. You could either not perform and not even stress yourself out. Or, if youâre really performing, realize that they wouldnât let you do it if they didnât know you were talented enough or good enough to do this.â
Jonas leaned his head back against the cool wood of one of the lifeguard towers. It was the only thing holding him up at this point in time. The festival had completely wiped him of any energy, but there was no way he was going to go home just yet. But he heard the footsteps approaching. âPlease tell me I donât have to share my lifeguard tower.â @nopeadrianna
somewhere inside of grace there was an ocean. it was an aggressive thing, beating into her temperament and her ribs like waves against rocks under a red moon, and it was infinite. relentless. sitting beside jonas listening to his sarcastic remarks, her tan knees warm where they bumped into him, the waters were still. he didnât look out of place in this room. neither did she.  â i didnât say anything, â grace dropped the dinosaurs and the dragonflies â alternatively known as the loser packs â onto the floor, and that was another way of communicating her intentions wordlessly. jonas sargent knew her. the thought was more than a little jarring. â i think one of the other girls stabs her in the back and steels her slot for meeting one of the designers. it gets pretty catty.  â carefully, she took off the plastic wrapping for a set of silver and bronze temporary feathers. jonas had made the right choice. â i wanted to audition for this show so badly when i was little, like, i swear, all i needed was a video camera and a postal address. i wanted to be on top, sarg. the age restriction was devastating. â
That the the entire thing, she didnât need to say anything. The blurry eyed mornings attempting to supply the town with the necessary caffeine buzz had given the pair of them more than enough time to understand each other. Just as he was sure she could pin point his habits, he could hers. Grace was someone who had her plan and there was just not much anyone could do to derail that, these temporary tattoos were no different. The look he flashed her way was enough to tell her not to try to bullshit him with this. âOkay so be honest, when she gets stabbed in the back, did you enjoy it? Celebrate a little because you donât like her?â, he continued to question, part of it was teasing her just to get either a rise from her or a chuckle that further allowed him to know that whatever demons hid in her mind were being pushed further away. Rolling up the sleeve to his flannel, Jonas extended his forearm out to her, without any argument. âWhy not then bring it back? Become the next Tyra rather than the next Jade. It seems like something youâd be good at.â
Leighton had been in her sophomore year of high school when she met Jonas; a boy only a year younger than she had been, a boy who, over the years, became one of her best friends. A confidant; someone she could turn to when the lifestyle she lived became too overwhelming for her to handle. Someone who could help keep her grounded. And to this day, that was still the case; just as she was there for him when he needed a shoulder to lean on, someone to count on, someone who would do her damned best to never let him down. After everything he had done for her, she owed him that. It didnât matter to her (or her family, for that matter) that he wasnât part of their world - the world of the elite, and high profile soirees, and wealth. It didnât matter that he was - what other people her family were associated with thought - a boy from the âwrongâ side of the tracks. It only mattered to her the person that he was on the inside, and the way he was there for her whenever she needed. It only mattered to her that he was a decent human being.
âI am so not being dramatic. You scared the absolute crap out of me. Iâve told you a million times not to sneak up on me like that,â she scoffed, defending herself. She didnât bother to warn him not to throw her in the pool because she knew it would be no use. Whether she liked it or not, at some point, she was going to end up in that pool. âOh, my poor babe. You and your ego will survive, Iâm sure,â she laughed, shaking her head. âŚand I think we need to do something about that. Yep, she would definitely be ending up in the pool; just sooner rather than later like she thought. Which was confirmed when he walked to the edge of the pool before falling back into the water, with her still in his arms. As they resurfaced, she wiggled her way out of her grasp, pushing him away from her and splashing him in the face. âAre we even now, or should I start planning my getaway?â
âWell, you would think that after I didnât listen to you early a million times, youâd know that I was dead set on living the rest of our lives ready to scare the hell out of you at the drop of a hatâ, he argued out in a mess of a babble as his grip around the slender girl remained firm but gentle. The thing with this friendship had always been that air and need to protect her. Leighton had been someone that never needed her to protect them, but she was someone that deserved to have all the ugly and bad in the world kept far away. Jonas did what he could to prevent that in their friendship in anyway he could. But ultimately, it meant that he would never pick up a hockey stick again before he hurt the girl he grasped on to.
The water was a cool welcome from the hot and humid day. He didnât care that his shoes were now soaked, or the fact that he was stuck finishing her law in wet jeans. He also knew that her family was more than okay with these interruptions, but that didnât mean he took advantage of them. However, spending time with Lei was something that just couldnât be helped. Call him an attention whore, but he loved whenever sheâd draw out his job for hours just for a simply conversation. âI think weâre even now, especially since you were completely ignoring me earlier. I even said hello and you just kept on reading. Where is the Jonas love?â
Text|| Lei
Leighton: That depends. Will it actually be edible this time? Or should I bring back up in the form of Chinese just in case?
Jonas: you know what. You're uninvited. I'm an amazing cook!
Text|| Lei
Jonas: My moms working tonight, made dinner, should I expect you for dinner?
max scoffed at jonasâ attempt at a dig at him. âthatâs bullshit and you know it. iâm at the gym twice every morning before you even pull your ass out of bed.â he said. maxâs worth ethic was incredible. he had an amazing body because of it. âround three.â max nodded, going through the motions. âare you still fighting with andrew?â he asked.Â
Jonas didnât acknowledge Maxâs retort, knowing that it was better to let him think what he may. But it question brought his attention away from the speed bag in front of him. âI wouldnât call it that we ever fought. More that I was sucker punched over him not telling me something. But yeah, weâre not friends. And fighting with him would waste too much energy. Why do you ask?â
graceplease:
@jonassrgnt
        â so, the models are going on their go-sees. jadeâs about to have a meltdown in this episode. â grace explains through the scrunchy in her mouth, pulling strands of strawberry-conditioned hair away from her face and into a lopsided bun. calliope buĂŠlla is a chronically absent parent at best, but she has managed to teach her daughter the importance of good hosting through years of annual july fourth celebrations and insincere family get-togethers. on the ottoman ââ â itâs not a footrest, sweetheart. use itâs proper name. â ââ is a spread of cucumber & carrot slices, and dips that grace wonât be eating. thereâs also a warm jug of water and a flannel, and this is why jonas is here. well, sort of the reason why. graceâs invitation to jonas hadnât mentioned cosmetic store tattoos or cycle six of americaâs next top model, and yet. â what do you want ? â thereâs three packs of temporary tattoos in her hands now, fanned out against her chest, and graceâs smile is a little too bright even for the yellow sunflowers painted on the walls.  â dinosaurs, dragonflies, or something from the special pack ? â
what. the. actual. hell. was. he. doing. h e r e. that was a question that many would of asked if they walked in to see jonas lounging back among the frills and fluff of the entire day. but a friend had asked him to go, to be there with her, and who was he to deny her that request? so thatâs exactly what the young man did. he shut up, sat down, and let grace have things the way she wanted. he truly didnât mind anyway â but if anyone ever asked if he now understood this damn show, the boy would lie through his teeth. âwhy is she going to have a hissy fit? spinach left in her teeth? gets lost? does her stomach gurgle in the dead silence of a room ruining her hopes of walking in clothes ninety percent of the world canât affordâ, he questioned, uncrossing his arms in order to reach for another carrot slice. his attention was drawn away from the drama forming on screen and over to the girl besides him, like heâd ever believe sheâd let him pick. âsomething tells me that the special pack is the one you want me to pick.â