#hcymickey

[hugobankson-blog]

@hcymickey

On the bus ride to the resort Hugo had to keep a remotely low profile away from Mickey on her accord due to Cassia, and since the girls were all sharing a cabin that was practically being dog guarded by Sister Florence, he knew it just wasn’t realistic to sneak over. But given that the resort just so happened to have a bar called the lounge, he figured meeting Mickey inside with a fake ID would ensure nobody they were dodging would be in the establishment. So after he slid on top of a barstool purposefully beside Mickey, and requested a whiskey sour, he idly tapped his thumb against the countertop. As he was about to mentally prepare a purposefully bad line he knew Mickey would hate, Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On started over the speakers in the bar, and to deflect that he didn’t absolutely love that song, he scoffed. “I fucking hate this song.” Was that too obvious? Nah. “Have we met?” He asked with a followup as he started to sip his drink. 

[damianfitz]

character dynamics: damian + @hcymickey 

[mattveras]

Given Matt was intimidated of Mickey, he found it difficult to approach her for any sort of personal life talk. But when push came to shove, she seemed to be the only one who would insert her insight when he didn’t ask, so he wondered what would come out of it if he actually had asked. Figuring he didn’t have a lot to lose, he took a drawn out breath before approaching her after class left out. “Can I talk to you about something... sort of personal? Privately?” He eyed around as if anyone would’ve suddenly eavesdropped their conversation. 

@hcymickey

[hugobankson-blog]

𝑻𝑬𝑿𝑻 ➬ Mockey Snotza 🖕

Hugo: hey ugly

[hugobankson-blog]

@hcymickey

It was probably wrong for Hugo to ghost Mickey after they’d hooked up, and it was probably worse that a week later he was texting her after getting heavily intoxicated once he subsequently evaluated his options on Tinder. And while the first few girls over the days he’d been through seemed promising at first, they’d all come up short as far as insignificant things like conversation, or comfort, which really shouldn’t have even been a deciding factor. It’s not like he was taking them out on a date. But for some reason it was. 

By the time Mickey left him on read, and he was tired of having the same sappy self indulgent songs blasting in his ears on his Airpods. It got to the point where he carefully placed his flask back in his disheveled blazer pocket, and tried to render himself in a standing position. When he did, he could already tell he’d drank too much, again. The room was spinning, and the lights blurred as he felt the overwhelming disassociating effects he had a boisterous entanglement with. 

Out his door, he knew he’d have to be careful because it was after the witching hour of curfew. It wasn’t like he had any business down the Cass wing, anyway. While he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, he wound up just trying to stay up right as he put his palm against the walls. C1, that seemed right, and if not, he’d just yell out in the hallway. It was midnight, and he was knocking harshly on Mickey’s dorm door, well knowing it was shared with Faith McKay, but just too drunk to care.

[hugobankson-blog]

@hcymickey

It didn’t take Hugo long to sneak off of campus when he was addicted to his Tinder app, if not for the party invites around the near towns around Broadripple. It surprisingly felt like he was finally falling into routine after the long break, even if the party proved to be a little more lame than he remembered. Or he just had a sad fondness for the ones at home. There was always at least a girl to take home. As he yawned, he dropped the empty red solo cup out of his hand he turned his wrist to look at the time, only he felt himself nudge into someone. “My bad.” He quickly followed up before looking up from his wrist. “Oh shit.” Snapping his fingers, he felt a sudden amnesia for the girl’s name. “Detention girl.” It was then he actually remembered her name, but his ‘forgetting’ tactic was one he used as a flirtation power move. “What’re you doing here?” 

[hugobankson-blog]

Hugo didn’t particularly care for confronting situations that had to deal with... emotions. So the topic of what happened over ski trip with Mickey hadn’t been brought up. And he didn’t think it needed to be. It was purely circumstantial sex type-of-roleplaying. That’s why he continued to only hit up Mickey when it was late at night, and he didn’t feel like being stuck alone to face his thoughts. But given the fact he’d accidentally lingered his stare at where she sat in the dining hall for too long, he figured at this point it’d be weird if he didn’t follow up with walking over. “I’m sitting here, don’t make it weird.” He averted his eyes as he dropped his tray against the tabletop and loudly plopped into the chair after scooting it out. 

@hcymickey

[mattveras]

@hcymickey

As more time passed it was getting closer and closer to curfew, and Matthew found himself in the court yard with his middle taped to the flagpole. He had a feeling if he was able to wiggle his arm a little more out of the tape’s grasp he could reach his phone in his pocket and maybe by now Jay wouldn’t be too baked to help him. The thing was, he wished he could just get himself out of it. Matt didn’t like asking for help, or having people ask the details. Then he’d have to go into how he’d managed to piss off one of the members from the BBC, and it felt like a lot more effort than it was actually worth. At the very least, he’d wiggled enough to sit down while still being taped. Hearing a near by shuffling, he perked up then realized it was Mickey, and this would’ve just seemed too embarrassing to ask for her help. So instead he turned his head and acted distracted in mental prayer.