#ftf: 002.

[santpez-blog]

FACE TO FACE ➝ QUINNTANA.

There was seriously nothing good about today. In fact, this entire week had sucked. Usually, the Cheerios would’ve been practicing, ready to slay at tonight’s halftime show, but thanks to Will Schuester evidently picking up the Glee club and carrying them safely inside the butt on his chin to the football field to take over the Cheerios’ spot, everything had been completely messed up. Having to stand and cheer as they performed was seriously just the old, moldy cherry on top of the world’s worst cake.

After a particularly grating Glee number, Santana half-assed a shake of her pompoms, then rolled her eyes as she turned to Quinn. “This is seriously the biggest joke,” she grumbled, annoyed that the crowd didn’t seem entirely offended by the whole thing like she’d been hoping. “Thank God for the party tonight. They’re not invited, right?” Santana motioned to the celebrating Glee club with her head, a blank look on her face.

[notreallynaya-blog]

FACE TO FACE → HEYA.

Other than knowing they were apparently at a school, Naya still had no idea what was going on. She and Darren hadn’t found much out, other than the fact that they had no cell reception, and they were basically stranded here, because this was not Paramount, which had been their first thought. Naya had been a little hesitant to let him go off on his own to explore the place, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough here to leave the school, so despite her protests, Darren had gone, and Naya had stayed behind, not wanting to stay outside on her own. A small part of her still thought this could be Ryan Murphy pulling a ridiculous prank, but she wasn’t going to take her chances, so as soon as Darren was out of sight, Naya turned on her heel and headed back inside the school, trying to remember the way back to the choir room.

Hoping somebody else would be awake by now, or that she’d be able to wake them herself like she had with Darren, Naya headed for what she thought was the correct room, but the familiar sight of blonde hair had her squinting down the hallway, and a small weight of panic lifted off of her shoulders. She half ran towards the other girl, stopping beside her, and seeing that she was rummaging through a locker. “Dude, what is actually going on right now?” she asked, hoping Heather would have figured something out that she and Darren hadn’t yet. “This isn’t normal, right? I mean, this isn’t just me being crazy, this is actually really not okay? Because Darren was lacking panic, and I’m about to have a huge mental breakdown. Please tell me you are, too.”

[anabelberries-blog]

FALL ON ME ⇄ ANABEL & DYLAN.

Anabel truly believes she has lost her marbles. Metaphorically, of course. She ultimately decided that it was finally time to buckle under, and wrap her head around trying to achieve higher grades-- rather than her usual mediocre attempts that doing so--in her classes. It's always been more or less her lack of concentration, and unfortunately, Anabel has come to the conclusion that she needs to do something about it. However; this does not mean that she will successfully go through with her plan. In fact, her decision lasted approximately ten minutes, when her mind wandered aimlessly around her room, practically searching for a reason to halt whatever she was doing, and pursue something a tad more exciting. That's when Anabel confirmed to herself that there was no point in carrying on her endeavors into schoolwork, so she fell back on her bed; eyes glued to the ceiling and relinquished all hope in making a single effort today. Refusing to even acknowledge the substantial pile of textbooks on her bedside, she sat up in sudden impulse. She had to get out of her room which was soon to become a scholastic vortex--devouring her very good thought in the form of essays and oral presentations--and leaving a sour taste on her tongue. She threw on her creased jacket, brushed off the specks of day-old dust, and slowly closed the door behind her. There was only one place she wanted to go at a time like this, and it came so effortlessly to her that she didn't even need to think twice to which direction she had to walk--her feet would carry her to where she desired to go. And right now, she had to see Dylan.

If there was one person who would be able to get Anabel out of this nasty school induced funk, it was Dylan. He was good at making her forget about every worry, and every stress-ridden aspect of her life--even if it was just for a day; or an hour or two, he always knew exactly what to do. And before Anabel could completely crumble into a billion pieces, she needed Dylan to slowly help put herself back together again. A bit like Humpty Dumpty in a metaphorical sense. In about two minutes flat (a new record for Anabel, might she add), she found the familiar number of his room, and did not hesitate to storm right in. His door was practically always open, anyhow. She combed her fingers through her wild, unbrushed hair, and looking over to him with her face hidden under her hands. "I'm having a crisis," she whispered; her hands covering her mouth just slightly so her words came out almost in a soft murmur. "Help me?"