-- HE’S NOT SURE how many people know about the things they do when nobody’s around. he hopes it’s kept between the two of them -- he just came out, for god’s sakes, and people are just starting to forget about it; he can’t have another reason for everybody’s eyes to be on him. so they keep it a secret -- but it’s not a secret to either of them when they meet up in the locker rooms an hour after school ends, or when he sneaks into the maguire household at some ungodly hour to do ungodly things. what he’s trying to say here is that they’re sneaking around -- fucking with no strings attached, essentially, but who’s he to put a label on it?
he knows teddy doesn’t have the prettiest reputation. he’s notorious for being, well, MEAN -- and don’t get shea wrong, he can be a dick sometimes too, but not the way teddy is. but it’s different, see, it’s different when they’re alone -- teddy’s sweet and kind and funny and okay, FINE, maybe shea’s catching feelings or whatever but who cares? he’s not looking for something like that anyway, he’s not looking for a relationship, and he’s pretty damn sure teddy’s not looking for that either ----
in the middle of his little existential crisis of sorts while standing at his locker, he glances over and sees him. it’s something out of a movie, honestly, like just thinking too hard about teddy conjured him up ten feet down the hall. he’s picking on some girl -- she’s tiny, probably barely five feet, and she’s not responding to anything teddy says, isn’t even looking at him. she looks familiar; one of the archer kids, he’s pretty sure, but he can’t remember her name, but he feels bad for her. then his eyes flicker to teddy, and he sighs a bit, shutting his locker. it’s a split-second decision when he makes the choice to intervene -- and if he’s using it as an excuse to talk to teddy again, so be it.
he walks over to them, before promptly shouldering his way between her and teddy, raising his eyebrows at the other boy. “teddy,” he scoffs quietly, lowering his voice as he ducks his head a bit. he searches his face for a moment, arms moving up to cross over his chest. “----c’mon ----- what’re you doin’? leave ‘er alone.”
™ - for my muse to become jealous of the attention your muse is giving someone else.
– FOR A MOMENT, she thinks nothing of it. she keeps scrolling through her instagram feed, before the pad of her thumb halts on the touch screen of her phone and she hesitantly scrolls back up a post or two. she TRIES not to lurk on his page too much, half because she’s paranoid he can see that she’s lurking ( he can’t, but she can never be too sure about social media ), and half because looking at his face gives her the hives for some reason. but in this case, it’s different – it’s a photo of a girl, and she’s tagged in it, and before she can consider if it’s a logical decision or not, she goes to look at her profile. her name’s acacia rivera and she’s beautiful and rich and she’s got phoenix all over her instagram – literally, almost every third post is of him or about him. some of them are insinuative – there’s one about how he won’t have his shirt on for very long, or something like that – and for a moment, a boiling heat brews in her stomach. she locks her phone and tosses it aside, staring up at the ceiling above her for a minute or two – maybe ten, she can’t keep count. it agitates her that when she unlocks her phone in the morning, she’ll see the same photos, so she grabs her phone and unlocks it purely to close the instagram app ( to save herself the time in the morning, she tells herself ), but she ends up spending another ten minutes scrolling through acacia’s profile, and phoenix’s too. every single photo tugs a little harder somewhere in her ribcage – every single photo feels like someone laughing in her face. she huffs, quietly, because it’s nearly one in the morning, and she closes the instagram app in silent frustration, setting her phone aside. she shuts her eyes tight, trying to force herself to sleep – but all she can see on the backs of her eyelids is her.
Ұ - for my muse to comfort yours after witnessing an emotional meltdown.
– “PHOENIX —–” there’s a moment of hesitation before she drops her pom poms and storms across the court. they’re not supposed to be interacting with the players during practice, but the coach technically just called for a five-minute break and the other cheerleaders are standing around on their phones at the moment, so she damns that rule to hell before she can even think of it. she didn’t see what had happened – but from the looks of it, royal had done something to royally piss phoenix off, and she could tell from the redness of the brunette’s face and the unadulterated fury in his eyes that he was on the verge of something ugly. she’s in front of him in less than a few seconds, hands hovering close to him like she wants to touch him, but isn’t sure if that’s a good idea, and she tries her best to keep his attention on her. “—–why don’t we go sit somewhere quiet?” she smiles hopefully at him, nodding as she finally finds his hand to intertwine it with hers. “—— maybe outside?” she glances toward the doors of the gymnasium, beginning to tug him in that direction; AWAY from his brother. she bites her lip, turning her eyes back to phoenix and finally moving her free hand up to rest on his cheek, grazing her thumb over the peak of it. “look at me, hey. ——- it’s alright, isn’t it? you’re alright.”
♬ reverse - for your muse to hum or sing to calm mine down
– IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY —– she repeats that over and over to herself as she paces the floor of her room. it’s been a long day, she mumbles to herself, that’s all. she repeats it like a mantra so that if anybody comes to ask her what’s wrong, she can say it as if it’s the TRUTH. it’s late at night, eleven or so, and she can tell it’s that stage in the night where everyone is done with socializing and wants to keep to themselves. she’s no exception – her door is cracked open, because she’s not quite sure if there’s an open door policy or not, but she hopes it does enough to give off the message that she doesn’t want to talk. it’s been a long day, but that’s NOT the truth – that’s NOT AT ALL why she’s a mess. the problem here, see, is that she accidentally called her mother. before this past summer, that wouldn’t be such a big deal – her mother might’ve scolded her for being up so late, but that would be the end of it. the problem here and now, see, is that she’s not supposed to be in contact with her mom, she’s not supposed to talk to her or call her or see her or even know where she is, and god, it was an accident, she swears it – she hung up after the third ring because she realized her mistake. and now she’s terrified – what if this has jeopardized everything? her mother hadn’t even picked up the phone, but what if she’d messed everything up? she’d been given specific instructions for her own safety before she came to halston – no calling, no texting, no NOTHING to her mother. she was free to interact with ralphie, and to call or visit her father in cases of EMERGENCY, but her mother was OFF LIMITS – but she’d never been informed of the repercussions if she were to make a mistake like she just had.
what if this means she has to leave, now? what if this means she has to pick up and fuck off somewhere else and START OVER? god, she can’t do that to ralphie – he’s already reeling from moving across the country. she tries to tell herself that it’s alright, her mother hadn’t even picked up the phone, technically she hadn’t interacted with her. she wonders, for a moment, why the thought of leaving halston brings her such a wave of anxiety. that was the PLAN, anyway – once the investigation closed, she was supposed to go back to new york. WHY did she dread the thought of that more and more with every passing day she spent here?
“——-we’ll be happy together, unhappy together ——”
her head snaps up at the soft sound of a voice, and GOD, she probably looks pathetic, tears streaming down her face and all. the redness of her face worsens when she realizes that it’s PHOENIX who’s pushed her door open, and he’s singing to her, and she lets out a laugh to try to cover up that she’s crying as if he can’t see it on her face —–
“—–now won’t that be just fine? the days may be cloudy or sunny ——”
he’s in her room now, and she shakes her head as she laughs, tries to feign annoyance like usual, but she can’t – she simply moves her hands up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and then he takes them and holds them and doesn’t let go —–
“——we’re in or out of the money, but i’m with you always ——-”
she lets out another laugh, but it’s a bit wracked with the way her body wants to keep crying, and she moves to wrap her arms around his neck despite the fact that he doesn’t guide her to do so —– it just feels natural. she sniffles, opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so she settles to rest her head on his shoulder ——
“——-i’m with you rain or shine.”
they’re swaying, now, and she sniffles again, but her tears have stopped falling. it’s quiet —- the quiet hum of the streetlight outside her window filling the air, and she lets her eyes slip shut, doing her best to ignore the way it burns. she feels like she owes him an explanation, but she can’t bring herself to give him one —– a TRUTHFUL one, at least. she remains silent for a few more moments, trying to muster the courage, but she falls short, swallowing thickly instead. she can lie to him —- just this once, she tells herself.
“it’s —– it’s been a long day,” she mumbles under her breath, tacking on a short, hiccuped laugh. it feels wrong. she feels guilty. “it’s been a long day. that’s all.”
send me a ⌘ to hear what my muse’s last words to yours would be.
on a note slipped under the cassidy’s door in late august, titled ‘to phoenix’:
52 rue de rambuteau, apartment 150875004, paris, francecome find me. yours, margot
send me ☁ for a thought my muse would have while looking at yours in the middle of class.
– ( quoting pages of voltaire without even blinking? surely, he’s doing it on purpose, now… )
send a ✦ for my character’s reaction to yours dressed nicely.
– SHE HADN’T EVEN wanted to be here, really. hadn’t, past tense, because now, she’s not so sure – now, she’s got something to focus on, she’s got a challenge, she’s got someone’s attention to pine for. instantly, she moves so that her body is turned away from him, afraid to look too interested, but it’s possible the glances she takes in his direction give that away anyway. regardless, she can’t help herself – he looks incredible, and she can only hope she’ll catch his eye.
