C&#x27;est La Vie

Twelve days until Record Store Day...

But that would be telling a lie. I don’t do that.

Sounds to me like you're in denial, about both things.

Twelve days until Record Store Day...

Thanks for reminding, bud. I was completely unaware.

So, what, you like people knowing you have your head up your ass half the time?

Twelve days until Record Store Day...

I’ve probably got, like, fifteen grams of sense in me.

That's only half an ounce, you just proved my point, fuckwit.

Twelve days until Record Store Day...

There is absolutely nothing stopping me from spending all my money just for that day.

'Nothing'? No car, SAT's, college? Oh wait, silly me, I forgot no one has an ounce of sense around here.

Guys I'm back!

Hello Micah,

I probably wasn’t thinking I don’t know?

#ellie-petroz #//busy freaking the fuck out #//he's just so done lol

Well, at least you didn't decide to give me a pointless fucking excuse for this! Jesus fucking Christ Aster, I talked to you earlier that fucking day, as much as I'm a shitty fucking friend--which hey, is what we were talking about right before you decided fucking offing yourself was a fantastic idea--doesn't mean I would have let you done that, you fucking idiot!! Hell, you didn't even think to yourself 'hey, maybe I should ask someone who knows if almost dying fucking sucks', because I could have given you a goddamn good answer that yeah, it fucking does, thus that was a fucking stupid choice to make!! I just--I can't even believe you, what the goddamn hell.

Guys I'm back!

Or at least I’m back in possession of my phone. My mother seemed reluctant to give it back.

I’m still stuck in hospital. That sucks.

Oh great, glad you're back, now mind telling me what in the absolute fuck were you thinking??

Sour Cigarettes || Micah

Ryen followed him with her eyes. In perfect honesty, she couldn’t help but find him interesting. The way he cared about nothing, yet got angry over everything he possibly could. How he tried to shrug off others yet snapped at someone reciprocating the same behavior. His blatant lack of trust in her made her chuckle.He seemed to analyze everything, trying to find something to pick on.

"I can see that. Or it can strike up a good conversation, depending on the person in question." Ryen pointed out, watching as he took off his shoes by her door. It was a polite action in her mind, contrasting Micah entirely. "I did promise you, I was just making sure you didn’t have an epiphany while walking over here that told you alcohol wasn’t your thing anymore." Ryen let a soft laugh ring throughout the room and she opened her mini fridge. "Pick whatever you’d like out of there. Unless it’s labeled Sydney. Then I encourage you to choose it.” Ryen liked her roommate, but with the food stealing while smoking that had been going on, she couldn’t help but mess with her a bit.

Micah could almost feel Dalton's gaze on him--half because he was expecting her to have the common sense of it with a near-enough stranger in her room, half mere awareness for how everyone seemed to toward him at any level of closeness--but ignored it entirely, knowing she would find little point in doing it before long if he refused to shy away from it. She would find what people always found; there was no hidden sides to him, he was always the blatant asshole as he arrived. Would she be disappointed? Probably, people tended to. Whatever, no skin off his nose; it wasn't his fault he wasn't some walking coming-of-age novel or whatever the hell they expected of him.

"If you're talking about how some people try to prove they're better, then yes, that happens an idiotic amount of times. It's not something I call 'good'." He entirely ignored the stupid suggestion of a change in taste--the idea almost laughable in how unlikely it truly was--and walked over to the fridge, selecting one of the bottles that wasn't labelled after careful consideration of what was inside. He thought for a moment, placing first name to last. Sydney...Jensen. Had heard of her, hadn't given a shit, thus hadn't met her. "Not liking the roommate, Dalton?" he asked. It was something he could relate on well enough, certainly.

#ryendalton

Sour Cigarettes || Micah

Ryen blew her nails as the clear polish dried, thankful Micah was taking his sweet time so she could finish them. After they dried, she got up and picked her bookbag from the floor and put it in her closet, her room completely neat now. Knocks interrupted her silent room, the pounding impatient and hurried. Ryen took a moment to talk over, placing her hand on the knob and opening the door. “Hello Micah.” she smiled in greeting, stepping aside and widening the gap between the door and it’s frame so he could come in. It was only after he entered her room that she closed the door. “I like your shirt.” she pointed to it, being genuine in her compliment. It was an amusing shirt. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, being a good host.

Micah gave a nod and grunt in greeting, monosyllabic as she likely always assumed him to be, slipping in through the door when she let him passed. He took a quick glance around the room; clean, yet not sparse like his own. Not anything truly eye-catching, that he could see. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse about his lack of knowledge for her, overall. Probably worse.

Hearing the comment on his shirt, he looked down, and snorted when he recognized which one he had worn. "Saves me from at least a few pointless conversations, how could I resist buying it?" he replied, slipping out of his shoes and dropping them by the door, not caring to test limits by tracking water into her carpet. He certainly would take a drink; this was already feeling far too casual for him without something strong. "Pretty sure you promised me alcohol if I came. Here I am." he pointed out, crossing his arms.

#ryendalton

Sour Cigarettes || Micah

The chill of the winter’s air floated around her room like a ghost until Ryen finally got up and shut the window. The room had gotten to be unbearably heated, but the outside wind had brushed the warmth from the room. The Chicago born babe didn’t bother to try to straighten up her room. Her room was unusually neat, even though she would let her dirty clothes cover the floor when her schedule made her unable to get herself to clean. Earlier, after learning Micah was behind at the school as well, Ryen offered him company in her room, with cigarettes and alcohol. He, surprisingly, agreed with little argument. The cigarettes and alcohol were, without a doubt, a helping hand in the matter.

Most people feared Micah. She knew that. Her friends whispered their fear of him, how mean they thought he was, how rudely his words were spoken. But Ryen didn’t mind him. She knew how to handle him. She naturally brushed him off. He was a little dude with a lot of anger inside of him. With warm leggings on and a sweater, Ryen deemed herself presentable. Her hair was in waves past her shoulders, a clip holding her bangs from her face. Now, all there was to do, was wait. Thanks to her roommate, she had a bucketload of candy, all sour, to indulge in before her next kick of no eating and vomiting.

Would it not look so theatrical, Micah would have frozen while climbing out his window, hesitated for at least a fifth time before leaving for Dalton's dorm. He didn't like her. Not that that was any big surprise, no...He didn't trust her. A mere few at the Academy could truly claim Micah did not expect a knife in his back at their first convenience, but the general crowd couldn't claim they could pull a fast one on him, themselves. Dalton threatened a different story, with the curveballs her attitude had already thrown him. Any less brazen of an ego might have led Micah back inside to his computer, to call the whole 'hangout' off. But even as much as he wouldn't back down to her lest she call his distrust any kind of fear...At least anything she could pull on him would limit his boredom growing like a tumor in his mind. He reached up to close the window to his dorm, before walking toward the girls' building.

Stepping into the warmth of the building lobby, Micah resisted the urge to shrug off his sweatshirt, unsure of how long he would even be staying. She had promised him benefits making a visit worthwhile, but he was noone's preferred extrovert, and he wouldn't bother expecting her to be a gracious host by this point. He instead merely unzipped it, fiddling with the metal as he walked down the first floor hall, finally finding her room right before the stairwell. Once, twice, three times he gave it a solid knock, stepping back with crossed arms as he waited, impatient as ever.

---

Micah's Polyvore outfit: http://www.polyvore.com/micah7/set?id=95917126

#ryendalton

Yooo Mikey Merry Christmas enjoy your present

I just once… just once want to feel like someone values me. Like I mean something to someone. Like if I was gone tomorrow it would make a difference. But I’m always initiating with all of my friends you’re just the tip of the iceberg and taking a grunt of the blame.

He’s done nothing, I did the thing. I knew he is an asshole and still I hoped. Hoped it’d be different with me. Thought I was special. Thought he liked me, valued me. But he couldn’t be, no didn’t want to be exclusive. I guess I’m not enough.

What about your other friends? You knew right from the beginning how things were going to be, interacting with me. You knew the limits were on you. If what I offer doesn't work for you now...I can't change that. Won't change that. You get more out of me than anyone else, already. If other people are ignoring you, that should be your problem with them, I'm a different chunk of ice than that iceberg you're talking about, you knew--and should still know--I don't follow everyone's typical 'rules of conversation'.

Sounds like that's more of him being a douchebag than you not being enough. You knew he was an asshole, and he just proved it again. You'll know better than to try anything a third time.

Yooo Mikey Merry Christmas enjoy your present

I’m not in the mood for humor and I’m not in the fucking mood for sarcasm. I am sick of feeling like I’m forcing people to be around me. I don’t want to feel like I’m pushing people into things. It will only come back to bite me in the ass. So this is it if you want out of this friendship it’s done. I’m not forcing people to like me or spend time with me anymore.

So yeah I didn’t mind you being an asshole up until now but now it bothers me because … well you know what I know another asshole I can recommend him. He’s an expert at being an asshole. Maybe you and Jordan should be friends.

[irritated sigh] It's also annoying how little belief you have in my ability of making my own goddamn choices. Look, I'm not going to hold your hand and point this out to you every single day--because yes, I can and do make that choice for how far I'm willing to go--but if I had any care to push you out of my life, I would have done so easily. I don't need people, and I damn well know it, so what would be the point in me letting you "force" me into anything? You're not forcing me into anything, and yet you're still around to give me things and apparently flip your shit at me. Perhaps you can realize that means something, if you'd take five minutes to remember who you're even talking to.

Who, Green? What the fuck has he done this time?

Yooo Mikey Merry Christmas enjoy your present

It’s yellow to lighten up your mood. And you can download fun apps.

So stop being such an ass about it. I wanted to give you something nice for Christmas because that’s what you do give your loved ones nice things. And if you don’t want it throw it away or something I am sick of forcing myself on you Micah.

Merry fucking Christmas.

If you'd like to remember, Aster, when you approached me in the very first place, I pointed out that I was an asshole. Acting like it's suddenly a big fucking surprise to you is almost laughable, if it wasn't so completely stupid.

It also apparently escaped you that I'm capable of sarcasm. Thanks for the phone, feel free to give me your sense of humor too when you find it again, jesus fucking christ.