l'histoire à l'envers

une envie partagée, encore peut être inavouée. peut être, encore, jamais, dévoilée. j'l'ai vue à la télé, si j'mens j'vais en enfer, faute avouée est à moitié pardonnée, et on en reparlera si tu dis la vérité.

[morrisxn02]

{HARRIS DICKINSON, 21, MALE, HE/HIM} Is that EDWARD MORRISON? A JUNIOR originally from MANHATTAN. They’re THE PROUD ELITE on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance. 

tl;dr: eddie responsible, pragmatic, methodic but he is also frustrated that he still hasn’t found his path in life and is too scared to live life the way he wants to without disappointing his family. i feel like, right now, he’s at this crossroads where he wants to be young and find his path and have fun, but he is too scared this will put all the great things he has in jeopardy.

-– the basics:

full name: edward rufus morrison nicknames: ed, eddie, rufus (if you want to annoy him) + whatever your muse desires age: 21 birthday: march 13th, 2002 birthplace: new york city, new york major: computer science + literature gender: cisgender male sexuality: bisexual

stats - pinterest board - playlist - wanted connections

multimedia character inspirations:

henry winter (the secret history), dickie greenleaf (ripley - 2024), julian fromme (these violent delights), art donaldson (challengers), declan lynch and richard gansey iii (the raven cycle/the dreamer trilogy), kendall and shiv roy (succession), logan dellos (westworld), nate archibald (gossip girl), ludo (blocco 181)

background:

middle child of the morrison family;

grew up as the family's perfect little golden boy;

his parents always deposited in him the expectations of one day taking on the family business;

was always sort of a conflict mediator at home, which is one of the reasons why his parents love him so much;

always enjoyed reading and studying;

didn't have any big issues growing up aside from sporadic ideological conflicts with his parents;

spent a year in france as a part of an exchange program in high school;

personality:

kind of nihilistic;

matured way too early so he kind of just wants to be young and dumb for a while but will not allow himself to be happy bc he feels like being his dad's ideal of a man is more important;

very creative and artistic;

on the outside he's a conformist, on the inside he's super liberal. he refrains from dabbling in politics, though bc as aware as he can be abt his privilege, he would never give up the nice things he has;

roy-siblings coded: he will do anything to impress an unloving parent because there's no drug more powerful than parental validation

can be very practical when he needs to be, but is usually very much the opposite

he is very VERY lost in life, very frustrated, very unhappy, thinks he's trowing his life away and regrets like 75% of his life choices;

he can be a bit selfish and narcissistic;

thinks he's smarter than everyone;

cannot muster up the courage to confront his family about anything so he can often be found looking forlornly at the horizon wondering abt everything his life could have been;

headcanons

fatally allergic to hornets. he WILL die if he gets stung

loves videogames;

kind of an art/history nerd;

annoying film-bro that carries a mubi tote around and has a criterion channel subscription (also hit him up if you want to borrow any criterion collective exclusive releases);

would have been an actor in another life. LOVES shakespeare;

eddie is kind of closeted with his bisexuality, mostly bc he feels like his parents might start looking at him differently (a few ppl know and he doesn't make a point of hiding it but he won't openly label himself as queer, it's a weird thing but you know where i'm going with this right)

also LOVES winter sports like and is an amazing tennis player but doesn't care much about other sports;

mildly near-sighed

slightly allergic to polyester (as per a collective gc decision lmao)

other tropes: princely young man, gentleman snarker, byronic hero.

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: Most of his life, Greer was like a best friend inside of their home. Someone with whom he shared most of his fondest memories, like summers in the Hamptons, Christmases in the Alps, and Halloweens at Disney World. Yet, when you grow up in a Succession-esque household, there are certain unspoken rules about loyalty and comradery. Siblinghood was always a game – fun, for the most part, but competitive and always marred by the inevitable awareness that there was always a great deal at stake and that one could end up finding himself on the losing side. Luckily, for most of their lives, the Unfavorite gracefully assumed that position – which neither he, nor Greer ever questioned. But Edward knew that there were always boundaries to his relationship with the golden girl, there were secrets to be kept from her, lies to be told to appease her, because he knew – as his twin did – that Greer would gladly throw any of them under a bus coming in at full speed if she knew that would expand her advantage in their parents’ rankings.

HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR SKELETON TROPE: The linen shirts, the tailored suits and the cashmere sweaters attest to his love of all things fine and luxurious. Edward is the stereotypical Barbie of northeastern rich men: his favorite sport is skiing; he loves a good glass of premium aged scotch; and his go-to Holiday getaway is quick trip to Europe. All this privilege makes him a little out of touch with reality. Sometimes he just doesn’t get the so-called “small pleasures of life”. And all this luxury at his full disposal might make him appear a little too self-assured. He doesn’t do it out of malice or hatred of the less privileged, though, he just loves his life too much not to be all-in in it… 

EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES: tennis, sailing, writing club, fencing club

[morrisxn02]

✍︎ @ollieinoue

Eddie decided he would give it another five minutes. If Ollie didn’t show up, then he would start without him. He could understand it, though. After what had happened on the weekend, Ollie could likely use a day off from the gym. But not half that time had gone by, Ollie came in through the automatic doors. The AC unit directly blowing cold air his direction ruffled his hair in a funny way that made him look like a soldier in a war movie, coming back from the battlefield after the whole battalion had thought he was dead. “Hey.” Eddie’s faint smile greeted him as he approached. “Just a regular Monday, right?”

[morrisxn02]

✍︎ @cara-mrrsn

“Today is Aunt Clémentine’s birthday, in case you forgot.” He said, not bothering to greet her as she finally walked out of her class. She likely hadn’t remembered it. She and Greer never did. Too many siblings on their mom’s side. 6 in total – Clémentine, Camille, and Caroline. Then Léonard, Lucien, and Lazare. “I already sent her a card from the two of us, though. So, you don’t need to worry about texting her.” He doubted that she would, even if he hadn’t taken the initiative to wish her a happy birthday on her behalf.

It was a first for him – doing something like that for her. She wouldn’t care much for it, he imagined. But it was a shift. A gesture of goodwill. Usually, when special dates rolled around – birthdays, anniversaries, graduations... – he would send cards and presents by himself. Intentionally forgetting to mention it to either of them, even Greer. Take all the credit. Be the family’s little trésor. Every few weeks, a new commendation. A new 5-star Yelp review for the best nephew in the world. ‘T’es tellement attentionné, Edy.’, ‘T’es vraiment gentil, mon chouchou !’, ‘Ça me touche ❤️’  While Cara and Greer… Well, you know how they are… – he would hear their mother whisper on the phone to a sibling or a grandparent, door of her study ajar.

He didn’t have much to say to her, really. But he wanted to see her. Also a first for him. Another shift. Something had changed on the morning of January 1st. “So… Are you finally joining the Morisson Capital Summer Internship Program this year or…?” He asked, a bit unsure if that was a decent conversation starter. Not like she was his twin sister! Well, at least it was better than How was class?! or How's your week going?

[anyaexe]

Oh, bummer. They hadn't expected that the end of the school year might be negatively perceived by some. Hadn't fully wrapped her mind around the idea that there were people on campus who would have to return to what was supposedly a clean slate. Would G be gone with Greer's cohort? Would they stick around? Either way, Anya imagined their presence might linger in the hallways, like a draft through a half-open window.

"They have my phone number, so I imagine if they want to threaten me from halfway across the world, they still can." A small laugh, devoid of anything even resembling joy. "I always thought we'd all be more excited for summer, you know?"

[morrisxn02]

True. His head tilted to the side, eyebrows arching upward in a silent concession. Even after their departure, Anya – like their other colleagues – was still only a text message away. But with each of them going in a different direction, he reckoned it wouldn’t be as easy for G to keep up. “That would require a terribly elaborate surveillance network.” A little chuckle emerged as he pictured an extremely vivid image of a hooded figure sitting inside a dark, musty control room, watching monitors with feedback from street cameras from all over the world, keeping track of Ogden students who had graduated.

“Wait, you aren’t excited to be leaving?” His arms crossed, and he leaned back a little bit. It was understandable that he wasn’t too enthusiastic about summer – going back to his seasonal internship at Morrison Capital, where he doodled in a notebook during countless meetings and pretended to understand anything about limited partners and co-investors and syndication, just to then return to yet another year of pretending that he was someone he wasn’t in this ninth circle of hell. But Anya? They were leaving Ogden for good. It was like finally retiring from 50 years of work at a government job.

[montyrichler]

As the other's eyebrows rose, so did his own, the barest of smiles pulling at his lips while he looked on in surprise. Did he actually have a decent poker face then, or was Eddie just that clueless? Probably the latter, really, but Monty supposed that he had been in better spirits in recent weeks. He'd been feeling less on edge, less like the world might explode into fire and brimstone at any moment, and more like surviving Ogden was an actual possibility. Maybe that was just the delusion of summer approaching and the weather finally warming up. Monty huffed out a soft breath, shaking his head at the meekly hopeful intonation Edward took on. "You almost make that sound incriminating," he murmured, shooting him a wary look of warning -- don't say that too loud, the hounds will descend upon me.

Monty inhaled deeply and pulled back from dangling over the arm of his seat, attempting to practice good posture for all of two seconds before his shoulders slumped again. "Oh," he exhaled, glancing down to answer, "A Little Life." He snapped the book shut, but rather than show off the recognizable cover, he held it with the top of the spine pointed towards Eddie, pages clearly culled as the book bowed in his grip. Monty squinted one eye shut as he looked at it like he was sizing it up. "I've been ripping out pages and eating them as I go." Not really, of course, but he did almost wonder if Eddie would buy it… Shrugging, he chucked the book onto the coffee table, more than happy to give up on reading for the time being. "Have you read it before?" he asked, not waiting to assert, "It's pretty shit. Nat recommended it to me, so I'm thinking I have grounds to sue her for, like… emotional distress or something."

[morrisxn02]

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re, like, behind… the thing.” He sank a little deeper into the cushions. “You just seem a little less paranoid over everything, that’s all.” Paranoid was the keyword there. From the first text message he had gotten – now almost two years into this game of cat and mouse – Eddie took every text message, every little dare, every new accusation sent by G with the utmost seriousness. Any notification from an UNKNOWN ID would flip a switch in his head and fire all the alarms in his brain. A full-blown state of paranoia. Meanwhile, other people seemed to handle G more smoothly – whether this had to do with genuine detachment or just an acute ability to hide distress, he was unable to say. But they certainly seemed to have their shit together when it came to G and their provocations.

Ah yes. How could he have missed the guy that looked like he was under a lot of pain – even though the photo was supposed to be called Orgasmic Man, or so he’d read – on the cover? “Oh, that.” He jotted it down on his laptop but was quick to add Monty’s observation that he wasn’t enjoying it very much. “No, I haven’t read that yet.” Nor would he. There was a West End play for this book, apparently, that people enjoyed, but from what he had heard about the book, it was a lot of emotional torture porn. Which wasn’t something he would immediately turn away – but this girl he knew compared it to a Lars Von Trier film, and he was automatically repulsed. “And probably never will thanks to your glowing testimonial.” An effortless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Is this the type of thing you usually like to read?”

[walshparker]

a nod of understanding tilted parker's chin. it was almost verbatim what jesse had said before their own brisk escape—remind myself that there’s more than this. the crazy thing was, there was. so much more, so much better, was actually just brimming up around the edges of their lives on campus. the normal things, as eddie had put it, had been so within reach that it actually made the entire ordeal all the more frustrating. maybe the crazy thing, though, was not realizing that all along. maybe they'd all just get through this trauma and leave—and that'd be it.

"jesse and i drove up to maine, bopped around a few coastal towns," parker answered with a shrug, though her growing smile betrayed any purported sense of oh, you know, whatever casualness. "camden has this beautiful little opera house—i could've slept on the floor there." she knew he'd understand just how literal she was being. if not because they tended to enjoy the same things, then because she'd actually refused to leave the DIY theaters they all, as children, had built in the walsh family's living room and did, in fact, sleep there. "what'd you write? anything you'd like to share? hey, did you ever figure out that macbeth inspired dialogue you were working on forever ago?"

[morrisxn02]

Getting on the road, driving away, disconnecting for a while – a trend among them, apparently. Only in their early twenties and already desperate to set out, leave the world behind, and live like nomads. Or hermits, like he had chosen to (in the self-imposed exile of his family’s country home). At least this exodus from campus seemed to have done them well… “That sounds nice…” He replied, genuinely, because she had a sort of revigorated air about her. “And how was, you know, travelling with Jesse?” Regardless of having aimed for a cool, unassuming tone, his curiosity evidently transpired. He didn’t want to press her, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder how things had played out…

His retreat had certainly been more monotonous, on the other hand. Not that he was complaining. Monotony was exactly what he needed. Nothing got his creative juices flowing better than some peace of mind and the silence of isolation. “I wrote a little bit of that too.” He answered, slight enthusiasm coating his words, happy that she had remembered about that. It was one of his favorite traits about her–the attention to detail. Mental notes that she could access as easily as looking at post-its on a corkboard. “You know how this works, you’ll get an idea, and it’ll become a source of hyperfocus for two weeks, and then your mind will create a new, completely unrelated narrative to be obsessed about.” He sighed. “But that progressed a little bit, it’s supposed to merge into other plays that have creepy aspects, like Hamlet or even non-Shakespeare works like Doctor Faustus. I’m just having a hard time drawing the common thread. I feel like I have a lot of cool scenes that work separately, but they don’t really come together as a whole story. We should sit down for you to have a look at it someday. I need to pick your brain as much as I can before you graduate and leave me to be the only Elizabethan-theatre nerd in Ogden."

[milonavarroo]

"It's going to be in a publication?" Milo said, waving his hand, "that definitely qualifies it as an interview, then. I thought I was just giving you a hard time about some assignment. And I think some arts and literature journal would likely have a large crossover with pretentious tennis fans." That seemed like the exact thing someone would have out displaying on some magazine rack. "Unless it's only online, then maybe not so much." You can't display how cultured you are if it was only online. He placed an elbow against the arm of the seat, leaning in Eddie's direction. "What's the questions? About how there is not much of a future to look forward to for our generation, or what?"

[morrisxn02]

Milo kind of had a point. There was, likely, some overlap between tennis aficionados and pretentious art enthusiasts. Edward himself was standing right at the intersection of that god-forsaken Venn’s diagram… “Well, that depends. If a big journal picks it up, then it might be published.” He explained – but that would require him to have a decent article. Meanwhile, all he had were 12 words. “But I won’t mention your name, don’t worry. I’m still trying to understand where this is taking me.” He set the laptop on the coffee table, turning to Milo. Maybe a casual conversation would make ideas flow more naturally than interviewing his friend. “I think we can both agree we all live in very… pressing circumstances, right? What I’m trying to understand is how this affects our – and by our, I mean our generation, in general, – appreciation of art. Like, what kinds of books are you reading? Or what kind of films do you watch? And why so?”

[morrisxn02]

✍︎ @sassa-fiske ; @ironlvngs

Edward, hundredfold, strode in infinite directions in the dark. A view that never got tiring. His reflection. Elevated to the nth power, reproduced endlessly inside the House of Mirrors.

There was, undoubtedly, an element of self-obsession to his wonderment–an unwavering appreciation of his own image that was characteristic of mythological characters that would drown or blind themselves after trying to kiss their own reflection. But there was also the psychedelic thrill about getting lost in a maze of glass, surrounded by so many nonexistent versions of one, that you couldn’t even point out who was object and who was image.

Not that any of those things were particular motivators to his volunteering to work at the House of Mirrors. Those were just the things he liked in something he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about, which was working the closing shift at the carnival. Instead, what had led him there was the promise of extra credits he so desperately needed thanks to his horrendous performance in some computer science courses he was about to bomb (which would, ultimately, lead to his parents finding out that he– well, never mind).

Regardless of the reasons that had brought him there or of how much he enjoyed being able to stare at himself for hours on end, there was work to be done. And so, he walked down the sinuous corridors of the maze, flashlight in hand, to check if there were any stragglers and to collect garbage that might have been left behind. At a turn, however, Eddie spotted something that made him stop. Two figures standing in the dark. Well, to be perfectly honest, about 16 figures. Standing close to one another. Talking.

At first, he imagined it might have been just two teenagers thinking they could get away with staying in the carnival past closing time. Hiding somewhere they thought no one would bother to check. But as he got closer, the shapes started to become more defined. The thin, jagged frame, the brown, curly hair, the cashmere of her sweater, and the faded vintage rock band t-shirt… And suddenly he was surrounded by Sassa and Link. 8 of each. He hadn’t seen them come in. Or maybe he had, but was too distracted with his reading that his brain didn’t compute. Still, this felt like being lured towards a fire–a sense of curiosity walking in tandem with trepidation in his mind. But it didn't hinder his stride.  

He cleared his throat loudly, stealing their attention, using his flashlight to distinguish the mimics from the flesh-and-bone pair – the ones whose eyes closed instinctively when confronted with light. “Am I interrupting something?”

[anyaexe]

with: @morrisxn02 where: spring fling

Anya had almost stepped in it and asked Eddie whether he was excited for his last spring fling before graduation, before realising her error. In some dark, subconscious corner of their mind, they had perhaps framed everyone else's existence around their own: if she graduated, then everyone else did too. "You must be, like, so excited for all the rest of us to fuck off next year, I imagine?" The truth went unspoken: once Greer's cohort went, perhaps G would go with.

[morrisxn02]

The thought came to him more than he would like to admit. As well as the inevitable melancholic feeling of uncertainty over how he would be able to push through yet another year of doing something he hated, but now with only a fraction of the people he loved to help push through. The sadness transpired only in the slightest, though. He didn’t want Anya–whose intentions towards him were as unclear as ever–witnessing too much vulnerability on his part.

But his response was sincere enough that they would realize he wasn’t happy. A sudden heaviness to his voice, a swift diversion of her gaze.

“Much the opposite, actually.” He met their stare again. “Most of the people I like are leaving…” He gave a lazy, unenthusiastic little shrug that was followed by a brief pause as he considered how, for them (for most of them, really), getting away, closing this cycle, would be a relief.  “You must be thrilled, I assume?” A smile flashed across his features, like the petals of a flower made of plastic, fake, and dim. Maybe one year from that night, he would be smiling a real smile. “Especially considering you won’t have to deal with you-know-who anymore?”

[montyrichler]

A brief and careless 'Wassup?' had been tossed in Edward's direction when he first sat down, collapsing into a nearby armchair and looking on expectantly. In a remarkably out of character moment for Monty, though, he hadn't been bothered by the lack of response. A sense of relief flooded his system instead, body relaxing as he accepted the silently unaware companionship while he could get it. Feet were pulled up to sit criss-cross, body drooping forward to rifle through his backpack and find a book, propping it open in his lap to read. And that's how he sat until Eddie finally spoke -- hunched over like a gargoyle, elbows digging into his knees with his head held up by his hands. Honestly, he needed the interruption.

"You really gotta ask?" he snorted, sounding unavoidably nasal with how squished his face was between his two fists. Monty's eyes cut to Eddie, eyebrows lifting a little while beginning to smile like they were sharing on an inside joke. "Ugh," he grumbled softly, rubbing at his face while sitting up, letting a hand fall to dogear the page he was on. Another second of thought led Monty to a lazy shrug, slouching into the armrest towards Eddie. "Other than the multiple murders… my life is going swimmingly. Don't I look like the picture of perfect mental health?"

[morrisxn02]

Regardless of the little knowing smirk on Eddie’s lips – sharing in on the joke which was their collective experience living in the CW purgatory otherwise known as Ogden College – he didn’t really have any evidence to support Monty’s observation about his mental health. Truth was that, in spite of his fondness for Monty, they weren’t particularly close to the point that he had seen the other put up a display of frail mental stability. Instead, Monty always seemed to face the surreal developments of their common narrative with a fine sense of humor and a sharp tongue, which Eddie not only highly appreciated but also found extremely healthy. “If I’m being honest… You…do…” His brows raised a bit to accompany the prolonged movement of his shoulders.

But, if he really was being honest, sarcasm of his response aside, Eddie assumed that – much like himself, Monty reserved demonstrations of his frustration and revolt to the people closest to him. And their discussions would, instead, be restricted to little quips about G’s latest move or long, self-indulgent conversations about their common subjects of interest.

Irony. Humor. He jotted down on a recently opened note on the Notes app. Reading????

Conspicuously, he tried to catch a glimpse of what he was reading, but Monty’s fingers hid most of the cover, only letting him see the shapes of indistinguishable letters. “Kidding. Obviously. But out of most people here, you kind of seem to be handling all of this...” Well, well was not exactly the word. “A little better?”  He shrugged again. A bit faster this time, because it was sincere and not something done to punctuate a joke. “What are you reading if you don’t mind my asking?”

[walshparker]

who: @morrisxn02 where: spring carnival

the news of the dean having been fired had, like most rumors, spread through the student body like a fast-acting winter cold. parker had caught signs of it here and there throughout campus, from closely huddled groups in the quad to blatant comments on the school's social media page. it was unavoidable and, likely, everyone knew at this point.

three people had immediately come to mind when parker, herself, had heard only a couple days ago. while she hadn't exactly hoped to broach the topic during the spring carnival, she hadn't seen any of them since—and eddie just so happened to be walking by now.

"hey!" parker called from her place at the water gun game booth, fully abandoning the toy at the counter as she leaned over to wave in his direction. "eddie!" she tried again, leaving the game entirely to jog in his direction. "i've been meaning to catch up with you." both hands slid into her back pockets. "how're you doing? how was spring break?

[morrisxn02]

His jaded face suddenly illuminated when their eyes met, finally realizing that the first call he had heard had been meant for him. “Oh. Hey!” A smile greeted her, like she had just brought home wood for the fireplace. The week between the carnival and Spring Break had been a monotonous but busy one. No time to really talk to anyone – only to readjust himself to life on campus after two weeks of an idyllic (and lonesome) getaway. “It was all right. Got to spend some time alone, which was good. I needed some time away from… everything.” His hands made a circular gesture in the air. But truly, this small holiday had felt like flying out into space and coming back two years later to a place you should recognize, but either it, or you, had changed in such a way that things just didn’t feel like they used to anymore. “Rested some, wrote some… You know, lived life like a normal person.” Eddie let out a little chuckle, humored by the baffling realization that any other man’s trash had come to be his treasure and not the other way around. “How about you? What were you up to these last couple of weeks?”

[milonavarroo]

He sat down near Edward perhaps about ten minutes ago because he seemed distracted, and like he wouldn't be a bother. Not that Milo was busy doing anything besides doom scrolling, but that wasn't really the point. So, when his attention was called away from his phone, glancing over towards the other he gave a deep sigh. "Sorry, I'm not allowed to do unauthorized interviews," he said, shrugging his shoulders. That was actually true as well. Especially with everything going on at Ogden his people had become very strict about any public appearances he made. Although this certainly wasn't a public appearance, and he wasn't sure it constituted an interview either. "Do you want me to text you the number of my PR person? They can send you a form or something to fill out." Knowing Eddie the unnecessary red tape might even be enriching for him.

[morrisxn02]

Pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, Eddie tries to sell the image of someone who is utterly annoyed with Milo’s response. But, in reality, he’s gotten used to this and thinks these antics are quite funny. “I’m just… I’m just asking you a question. Completely off-the-record, I promise.” He raises a hand in a vow, wondering if it would be useful to explain that he wasn’t actually going to cite Milo’s name in the paper, but rather use his response as a compass for following questions and then for further questions, and so on... Ultimately, however, he reckons Milo is certainly not interested in learning about the purpose of his essay and instead tries to be more simplistic about the whole ordeal, “Plus, this is meant to be submitted to an arts and literature journal. I guarantee that most of the people who will read this won’t even know who you are.” He explains. “Not to underestimate your popularity as ATP’s people’s princess, of course, but it’s an entirely different audience…”

[morrisxn02]

✍︎ open starter

Computer on his lap – a Word document open with just a few words in – as he lazily rests his back on the cushions of the (brand new!) Commons sofa. The little black bar blinking on the empty white background, petulantly daring him to write something. But he was in the middle of yet another terrible episode of writer’s block, and every time he tried to type something out, it felt like staring at a brick wall and hitting his head against it. But nothing came of it. Just an awful migraine, which could also be due to the fact that he was adamant about not changing his display to night mode.   

“I hate it here – a study about the manifestations of escapism in contemporary literature”, read the first few lines. In the abstract, he proposed exploring what Gen Z considered particularly pressing about their lives and what they sought as a means to escape the bleakness of reality. But besides that, he hadn't been able to come up with much more…

With a long, languid yawn, he notices he is not alone anymore. Someone had taken the chair next to him – the realization causes him to quickly cover his mouth and sit up straight, taking his feet off the coffee table where they had been resting while he thought he was alone. But it also sparks an idea. “Would you mind answering a question? For research.” He shifts in his seat, trying to look a bit more collected, “How are the quote, unquote best years of your life going?”

[morrisxn02]

from g with love – part 2.

(self para)

tape screeches sharp and loud as he opens the box full of dean zuko’s souvenirs. a clatter echoes as he turns it upside down – contents sprawled on the concrete. faster to go through them this way. books, binders, folders, pieces of paper, cds… was that a floppy diskette? when was the last time zuko had cleaned his office? 1999?

beneath the diskette, a loose piece of paper, roughly ripped off something, caught his eye.

october 28, 2022

a page pulled out of a planner or an agenda.

he picks it up just because it’s lying there. waiting for him. otherwise, it would’ve gone unnoticed while he fumbled aimlessly through the books and the binders.

and as if it had been planted: meet greer morrisson at–. it read, in rough, childlike handwriting.

the location was impossible to distinguish – a water stain had blurred out the blue ink of the pen.

october 28, 2022. 5 months – well, nearly 6 after greer’s disappearance. but once again, there he was. dean zuko found at the crime scene. figuratively, of course. just another confirmation to him – both that greer was alive and that zuko was involved in her disappearance. but meet…? that kind of implied some sort of collusion, no? that they were working together?

nearly two years of her disappearance and he still defended her religiously like he was protecting the memory of a martyr. no, i’m sure there’s a reason for indexing everyone’s secrets – maybe she’s an aspiring compliance hr analyst.

oh, maybe she just needed a break, that’s why she was planning to run off to portugal.

well, i’m sure that she was only saying that to penny in those texts because penny was kind of an asshole.

and so on.

now a meeting with zuko? months after disappearing? kind of a slap across the face. a new betrayal. somehow worse than the previous ones. something he couldn’t just shake out.

zuko? out of all fucking people? why not him. why did she rather keep in touch with dean fucking zuko and not him? he was the one who stood by her like a guard dog when she was alive. the one who defended her from their parents and the rest of the world. but, somehow, she would rather see dea– his phone buzzes in his pocket. and buzzes again. and again.  

annie? he said, picking up the call. eddie, where did you go? i have the attendance list here with me.  oh. yeah. i– i had to rush to the washroom. sorry. be there in a minute.  oh, okay. don’t worry, sweetheart. sorry. didn’t mean to interrupt. no, don’t worry.

greer’s memory disappears with the urgency of going back without getting caught. instead, he’ll think about it later – trying to sleep. unsuccessfully. overcome with the anger of not being her favored confidante. of knowing she preferred even dean zuko over him– not just him, of course. penny, too. and all the people she had allegedly appeared to or communicated with in the last 21 months.

but now he doesn’t think about it. now, he tries to focus on the task of getting out of there unnoticed. heart still loud on his chest with the breaking of so many rules works like a compass, guiding him to the right focus. he stuffs the confirmation of zuko’s and greer’s appoitment in the pocket of his trousers – as well as two flash drives and a few more loose pieces of paper in case there is anything useful – and rushes out of the room, leaving dean zuko’s remains abandoned on the floor.

[ollieinoue]

dining hall during lunch sometime [ @morrisxn02 ]

If you were to ask Ollie he was absolutely not the sort of person who spread himself too thin, but that would be a lie. A lie he told everyone, and a lie he told himself. He was in his last year, and luckily managed to keep his own work load pretty low stress this year, which ultimately meant all of his stress was coming from outside sources. The grades, the exams, the fucking papers. The having to track down people who had not paid him yet to deal with their grades, and exams, and fucking papers. End of term was always a bad time for Ollie. The extra stress and anxiety added on top of it from a certain somebody in his phone did not help.

So, as he got up from a table in one of the dining halls turning around and spilling his (luckily iced) coffee all over himself, and the person who had been passing by behind him he almost felt like dramatically bursting into tears and throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of campus would be a great way to let stress out. But he didn't do that. "Oh fuck," he muttered, already grabbing napkins left behind on the table, as he laughed and looked up at Eddie, "I'm so sorry. What a senseless waste of life…" He said morosely as he started to clean the coffee up.

[morrisxn02]

Damp, cold feeling on his torso halted his stride. A weird disorienting sensation of running into an obstacle you didn’t see appear in your way – then, the notion that something had soaked him. Sticky, humid. Gross, even. Crap, he muttered, barely audible, muscles hardening – more out of disgust than of outrage. But before he could say anything else, he realized it was Ollie and the tension in his body just dissipated, like magic. Ollie’s own t-shirt also stained the same lifeless brown that painted Eddie’s baby-blue button-up an ugly shade of grey.

A little chuckle sprouted, even as Ollie apologized for the coffee spill, Eddie’s head shaking to assure it was okay. A much different outcome from what would’ve been if not for the fond face that greeted him a split second afterward. Not that Edward would’ve raised his voice or anything, but had that been a stranger – or someone he wasn’t particularly fond of – he would certainly have complained, and told them to watch where they were going, and had his morning ruined over a mundane little accident simply because his shirt got dirty and he would have to reroute back to Alcott just to change. “No, don’t worry.” He said, taking some napkins from the nearest table to help clean up the crime scene. “My mind’s all over the place, I don’t even think I saw you stand up, anyway.” An unusual thing for him to do – admit he might also be at fault. But it was true, he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he might as well not have seen Ollie get up when he did.

[rhia-falla]

“A lot,” Rhia ascertained with fervor. She felt somewhat like a private investigator, the thrill of uncovering some unseen truth turned this more into a game rather than another blackmail from G. He sat down beside her, much to her amusement. “Well, first… You have to promise me you won’t lie,” she demanded intently and extended a pinky toward him. The pinky hung in the air between them, before Rhia gestured to her hand to indicate they would not continue until he acquiesced to her request. “I can tell when someone lies, y’know! So don’t even try it,” Rhia bluffed, knowing in reality it was quite the opposite.

[morrisxn02]

His face remained aglow, smirk flourishing into a playful smile as she demanded a promise from him. He shook his head, eyes rolling, quenching the impulse to let out a little sneering laugh. Rhia’s peculiar brand of optimism was amusing. Charming. It bordered on idealism. And it was (or at least it seemed) entirely devoid of malice. Early on, back when they had first met, Edward assumed this was merely a fabrication. A result of desperation to seem like an inviting presence. Always nice, always smiling – to try to lure people into her claws and take advantage of them. Now, he realizes that was kind of just who she was… Which didn’t make it any less strange to him, this whimsical behavior of hers. But knowing it was genuine definitely made it more palatable – rather pleasant, even. “I’m a very good liar.” He warned, raising his brows, trying to mirror her playfulness. “But. You have my word that I’ll do my best to be as honest as I can.” Which was a grand gesture of good faith, promising he would do his best. Better than promising he wouldn’t lie just to break the oath as soon as she spilled whatever information she had to share with him.

[bigmandiego]

Diego was surprised when Edward broke the silence between the two of them. He was fine pretending to listen to music while he worked at the chest press, like there was no reason to try to speak to each other. Not that he felt the need to avoid him, neither of them were the others favorite person, but he had nothing particular against Eddie, and he was certain the other felt the same way. Sure. Despite all the pretending in the world his music wasn't that loud though, ear health was important, and he did hear when Eward began to speak.

He smiled a little, and shrugged. "It was nice, about like Paris always is. Except this time I spent the entire time in the library studying, and preparing for exams," Diego said. "I liked it, PSL is a great school. I sent an application in there for Post Grad." He was still hoping for acceptance from Cal Tech though. "How have you been? I know it's an unbalanced question, since there is a whole thing going on here, but…" He trailed off with a wave of his hand.

[morrisxn02]

PSL? That was the school Lucas attended – the Dauphine campus, for their journalism program. Funny how this always happened: how his and Diego’s lives seemed to almost mirror each other in certain ways, without them ever touching.

He couldn’t help the intrusive thought that came immediately after: Lucas and Diego. Getting acquainted. Becoming friends. Becoming more than friends. Was Diego even into guys? The thought made his stomach churn. No, no. That would be nearly impossible. The Dauphine campus was restricted to Journalism majors, no? What was the likelihood of them running into each other? He tried to comfort himself in the lie that the statistics were that it was highly improbable – but the facts were that Diego and Lucas still had gone to the same school. And there were extracurriculars, and parties, and the possibility that there had been an encounter was higher than its opposite.

Again. Funny how this always happened. Lives mirroring each other’s. But somehow, Diego still always seemed to end on top. Always having everything Edward wanted for himself…

“What course did you attend?” He almost instantly, impulsively said, expecting to exclude the possibility of a Diego/Lucas fling, noticing only a few seconds too late that he had ignored Diego’s question. “Uh. Sorry. I– I’m all right… As fine as a person can be in these conditions.” He shrugged.