#p:kota

[tatumxking]

@kota-pike

Tatum had text Kota and asked her if she could meet him at Spice at 7. He had to admit, he was a bit relieved when she agreed and didn’t just ghost him. Not that he liked to always assume the worst, he just knew how it could be. Dating wasn’t something he was very good at. He showed up fifteen minutes early, trying to make a good impression and looked at the bar, but decided against getting a drink. He looked up when he heard footsteps, smiling when he saw that it was her. “You look great.”

[icexmeltingrp]

cutiesintown

Querido extraño/a:

Quizá solo sea una contemplación estúpida, quizá creas que soy una de esas personas que ven la vida de manera extremista, pero pasar tiempo sobre un tren ha comenzado a causar estragos en mi cabeza. No me malinterpretes, el sonido es relajante y la vista es irremplazable, nada que puedas obtener de un automóvil en una avenida en plena ciudad. Pero también es solitario. Las personas se acompañan, puedes ver como el día a día afecta los rostros somnolientos de los pasajeros, y puedes inventarles historias para pasar el tiempo, sin embargo jamás haces contacto directo con ellos. Es como si fueran extraños en un universo distinto, como si el solo hecho de pensar en entablar una conversación les causara agonía. Es algo completamente desapegado, frío. Inhumano.

¿Es que acaso soy la última persona a la que le importa? Mi pregunta tiene dos posibles respuestas. La primera es un sí; y eso sería devastador. Pensar que a nadie le inquieta la chica rubia que llora en silencio fingiendo que nadie la ve, abrazándose a sí misma como si intentara contener lo que sea que la corroe por dentro o el adolescente que contempla los rieles como si fueran la respuesta a todos sus problemas. Y si es un no… ¡Dios!, espero que sea un no. Entonces ¿Dónde están los que siente algo? ¿Aquellos a los que les importa?

Sé que es demasiado pronto, que solo has leído algunas líneas con preguntas que probablemente no tienen cabida en tu mundo, pero… ¿puedo pedirte un favor? Detén un segundo tu vida contémplala y dime ¿Has extrañado el contacto humano aún rodeado/a de personas? ¿Has deseado que alguien rompiera la barrera de lo políticamente correcto y simplemente te diera un abrazo? ¿Has deseado prestar tu hombro a alguien sin siquiera saber su nombre?

Un pasajero solitario.

Peter dobló la carta con cuidado, esperando que quien fuera que se cruzara con el papel no lo descartara como si fuera basura, quería que alguien prestara atención a sus palabras. Nathan siempre había dicho que era un soñador y probablemente lo era por esperar algo así de un completo extraño, pero había pasado el último mes utilizando el tren como medio de transporte por lo que no había podido dejar de notar cuan desapegadas eran las personas, cuan vagamente el término “humano” era usado en esos días. Colocó el papel sobre el asiento y sin mirar atrás bajó en la estación que le correspondía.

[mr-bobbyharper]

Baby, I'm Addicted || Kota and Bobby

As much as Bobby wanted to believe that he was okay, that there was nothing wrong with him and he was absolutely fine, sometimes it didn't seem that way. His home was lit up, his sister home from school and seeming to play music in every room of the house. All except Bobby's. His room was empty and silent, dark due to the closed blinds. He'd had a busy day at work and was now beginning to calm down, all helped by the bottle of vodka he had cupped in his hands, He'd already drunk a third of it and he was okay with that, he can cope, whatever everyone else told him.

Turning his own music on, he sat back against the bed, wondering why voice were rising up out of the lower floors. The house was huge and old and sound often echoed, it was probably just the TV. Immy watched some awful shows. Sticking his head out of his door, he wobbled on his feet, unsteady due to the copious amounts of alcohol in his bloodstream. Gently he ran down the stairs, only to find that the discussion was actually just music left on and Immy was nowhere to be found. In her place was a redhead Bobby had never hoped to see in his home again.

"Go away," he begged, his words a little slurred. Slumping onto the stairs, he looked at her through bloodshot eyes and wondered what had gone so badly wrong in his life that nobody wanted him.

"Immy's not here and I'm... I" Bobby wanted to tell her he was okay but his words escaped him for the present moment and that couldn't be allowed. "I don't need you," he muttered, close enough to the truth. When he had needed her, she hadn't wanted him and that was what the difference was here. This was too little, too late. He'd been hurt too many times and part of that had been Kota. She had hurt him and didn't even seem to care. Nobody cared about him.

Pushing past her roughly, Bobby made his way down the long hallway to the formal lounge, if he had to talk to her then he refused to let it be in a room he actually used. "Things aren't okay, Dakota." he turned around to say, almost wondering why the room was spinning before giving up and sinking into the plush couch. "Things aren't okay and neither am I." he just wanted her to go away, to not look at him like she had been recently. He wanted to be okay again.

[noahtbh]

Light 'Em Up Up Up → Noah & Kota

If there was one thing Noah loved doing with Kota, it was smoking. It was a rare occassion for the two to smoke, but every time they did, it was the best time they'd ever time. And each time got better, too. He threw the bag of weed on his bed and and collapsed on the floor, stretching out, a groan escaping his lips. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling and completely silence, he began to wonder if Kota was even coming over-- it was pretty much an unspoken rule that she did right after any sort of gang business was through. Especially if it were a victory like this one-- which was definitely a victory, considering it'd been carried out by the North Side's very own dream team.

But then his mind wandered away from Kota that night, and found it's way to Kota last night. The way she'd looked when he'd played with her hair, the she'd touched his face and whispered something about kissing him... And of course, the way she'd sighed and pulled away from him again. God, if only she'd stuck to her guns the way she always did. He would've kissed her. He would've done it. But she hadn't and he didn't and it was probably gonna stay that way. Noah picked himself off the floor and sat on his bed,  absentmindedly tearing at a sheet of rolling paper. The front door opened and shut downstairs and he looked up. "Kota, if that's you, I'm up in my room."