BARRETT JOHNSON. college freshman; eighteen. charlie plummer. OPEN.
and, as brian johnson once said:
“It’s like me, you know, with my grades. Like, when I — when I step outside myself, kinda, and when I — when I look in at myself, you know? And I see me and I don’t like what I see. I really don’t.”
BEFORE THE PARTY;
Who was Barrett Johnson? That was the question that Barrett himself was attempting to answer.
As long as Barrett could remember, he’d lived his life according to his parents. Make no mistakes about it, the Johnson’s were lovely people who wanted nothing but the best for their only child— they were suffocating at times. In their defense, there was no denying that the world was a pretty fucked up place but Barrett wanted to figure out what his place in this world was?
For far too long, he’d been the quiet kid. The kid who’d kept his head in the books, got his fairly great grades and kept out of trouble. His pursuit of staying out of trouble had resulted in Barrett being a non-entity amongst his peers. He was the kid that no one knew. And because no one knew him, Barrett missed out on what some would consider monumental high school experiences. He couldn’t say he’d snuck out of his house to attend a party or that he’d gone on a date... good or bad but the one that bothered him the most was... he didn’t really have any friends.
So once he had the opportunity to get out from underneath his parents vigilant eye, he took it. He accepted a scholarship to his father’s alma mater, Ravenwood University without hesitation. His father was been somewhat of a legacy at the esteemed institution, having been one of their top football players back in his prime. The way he’d spoke about his time at the university, it inspired him. His father had walked away from Ravenwood University with stories and experiences that’d shaped him into the person he was today and hopefully, it would do the same for him.
And thus far, it certainly had.
You see, Ravenwood had instantly provided Barrett with an opportunity that life back home hadn’t. In Ravenwood, Barrett held legacy status. With that, many doors had opened for him. He found himself rubbing shoulders with people who’d typically never bat an eye in his direction. People who would eventually go on to be politicians, CEO’s,— people that made their mark on history. But that’s where Barrett made his first mistake, in assuming that he belonged with those people. Because as he’d soon discovered, that crowd hid it’s true nature behind bright smiles and firm handshake.
You see, the legacies believed that for one to truly be a part of their circle, you had to endure. And Barrett certainly endured. He endured all sorts of cruel things, because he so desperately wanted to believe that he’d find himself a part of this brotherhood.
And for a moment there, it appeared as if he’d proven himself. That he’d shown them all that he could hang in there, that he could take it. All that’d really happened was that he was no longer their target of choice. No, the cycle had to continue and torment had to be inflicted on some new unexpected soul. Torment that he was expected to join in and cause. That’s where Barrett Johnson reached his breaking point.
When the focus of their torment turned to that of a girl. The guys pushed her and called her horrid slurs, things no one should be referred to. Especially not a woman. So, he reached his breaking point. Everything went black and when he came back to, he was being pulled off of one of his tormentors by campus security. His knuckles were bruised and battered but that didn’t compare to the damage he’d caused to one of his so-called brother’s faces.
Because of that black out and the subsequent legal proceedings, he found himself in court ordered therapy. It began with one on one sessions but his therapist had soon suggested group therapy, every Saturday morning. It wasn’t exactly something he’d been excited for but looking back now, he actually couldn’t thank his therapist enough for the suggestion.
Because those group therapy sessions had brought him his first real friends. Sure, they were quite the eccentric group of people— compromising of a former drug dealer, a socialite with a serious shoplifting problem, a recovering drug addict and her... the girl he’d stood up for against those dickheads in Ralph Lauren. Adeline Chadwell, as he’d soon come to find out.
He had no doubts in his mind that hadn’t they been forced to come to these sessions, they would have never met. But now that they were in his life, he couldn’t imagine his life without the Breakfast Club— name coined by him.
DURING THE PARTY;
How had Barrett Johnson found himself hitching a ride back to town, soaking wet in just his underwear? Well, to get the answer to that, we’d have to retrace his steps and see what’d led to that.
You see, he’d found himself at a party. And this was a party he was actually enjoying himself at, not just standing against a wall awkwardly. No, he was dancing with his best friends, Adeline Chadwell and Ainsley Rice. Sure, he wasn’t nearly as good as either of them, but he was still dancing and he was having fun while doing so. Not just that, but he was talking to people without feeling nervous and... he’d even caught the attention of not one person; she was a member of Ravenwood’s student council... but he’d also found himself being stared at by one of the leading actors in the PA program.
And if he had to be honest, he hadn’t mind the attention from either of them. What was meant, he didn’t quite know as of yet but he was sure that Adeline or Ainsley would have the answer to his question. But, as he tried to find them in the mass of people— he found himself surrounded.
Surrounded by the assholes he’d called his fraternity brothers.
And with no Adeline or Ainsley in sight, he was essentially defenseless. Well, actually, Callista—of all people, had attempted to come to his rescue but there wasn’t much she could have done. They carried him out of the party, having tossed him into the trunk of one of their car. When the vehicle finally came to a stop, they found themselves on the bridge to Madison county.
There, he was forced to strip down out of his clothes until he was left in just his underwear and then tied up in plastic wrap. But that wasn’t the worst of it all, no. He found himself picked up once again by the collective group and toss over the edge, into the not so warm water below.
Somehow, by the grace of some higher power or let’s be real— by the power of rage, he’d found himself able to swim back to shore. And my god, was he ready to make those assholes pay for what they’d done to him.
alternate faceclaims and prompts.
