Her gaze falls upon a sniggering group of boys standing at the end of the hallway as if waiting for something. Dark eyes follow their pointed fingers & jeering smiles only to land on one Toby Cavanaugh. & she knows almost immediately what’s going to happen next. Instinctively she takes a step forward, lips parting to warn the boy of the no doubt mindless prank he was about to fall victim to.
— But steps still, mouth pressed into a firm line ( this is wrong & she knows it ) because this is Toby Cavanaugh, & this could be the very opening she had been waiting for. So she waits ( & she isn’t left waiting for long. ) When the locker door opens & the wet papers fall onto the unsuspecting boy, she bites back a wave of something akin to sympathy before taking deliberate steps towards him, napkins held readily between her fingers. She hands him one before turning to the jocks, brows raised. ❛ Don’t you guys usually play outside — or did you lose your balls? ❜ & with that, her attention is returned to the boy who’s meekly picking up the pieces of his notes & homework.
If only picking up the p i e c e s was always so easy.
❛ Here, let me help. ❜
@miiisery·
indifference has always been an ally through time. he doesn’t have much of a choice, really. stopping & caring to everything this town says about him, he would never make it through in one piece. the names, the glances, the pranks, the death threats —— he’s used to them all. they phase him. but he’s gotten so good at hiding it, at hiding what he feels, even he is not sure if feeling is a thing he’s capable of.
when a mixture of water && shaving cream falls from his locker, — smearing the floor, shoes & papers on its way down— the confusion disappears. anger boils through a quiet body, reminding him that he is indeed, capable of feeling. anger & weariness, the latter showing through wistful eyes. crouching down to pick up what looks like important french notes, he doesn’t bother to stop through the jocks’ chuckles & snickers. they don’t last a second that doesn’t even hear them anymore, a familiar but unwelcomed voice scraping his ears instead.
spencer hastings. offering her help. he doesn’t trust that. he doesn’t trust HER.
he chooses to dismiss the help. nothing good ever comes out of interactions with alison’s pose. that much he knows.
❛ what do you want? ❜
