The only thing on Allen's mind when he walked up to his place was how happy he was to be out of that fucking calculus classroom. He'd never understood the point of it, or why he was expected to learn so much bullshit if he was only going to use fifteen percent of it in his day-to-day life. When he was fishing the key out of his pocket, bringing it to the keyhole and turning, he noticed the large envelop hanging from the door (how could he not when it was right in his face). ...Held up by a tack. "Who fucking does that? Who just goes around tacking envelopes to peoples' doors like some kind of fucking savage?" he exclaimed aloud, hoping that whoever'd done it could still be lingering around and hearing his thoughts toward the subject. With an annoyed scoff, Allen tore the envelope down from the tack and let himself in his house, tossing the document over to the couch and heading for the kitchen. Snacks before anything, always.
Fifteen minutes and a sandwich later, Allen was opening the envelope with caution, a bit confused as to why he was even receiving it... whatever it was. His assumption was that it was something from his school, telling him that he needed to pick up where he was slacking off. However, if that was the case, it would have been delivered to his mom's house and not his. It could've just been a mistake in address. "What the fuck..." he mumbled to himself in disbelief as he pulled out a picture of him rushing away from a store with stolen jewelry in his hands. Hurriedly, he flicked through the rest of the many pages in the manila envelope, counting out about fifteen different pictures of him committing various crimes. His brows were furrowed when he looked up and around at what he could see of his house, out of the nearby windows, searching for any signs that he could possibly be being watched. It wasn't until after he'd examined the photos that he noticed the actual letter, pulling it out hurriedly and scanning over the page in a rush.
By the time he'd finished reading over it a few times, he wasn't sure what to think. He could hear his head telling him not to worry about it, to stay cool and that some asshole probably just wanted to see him piss his pants. ...But how would that explain the pictures? And his list of secrets? In his gut, there was a nasty feeling coming on, and it was already hard to ignore. Nobody knew that much about him. There was no excuse. Allen's heart was beating fast, and he didn't like it. He glanced over at his telephone hanging against the wall, staring at it inquisitively, contemplating. In the letter, Sage, whoever the fuck that was, seemed to use the word 'all' as if referring to a group, and he wondered why. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who'd gotten that letter. His hand was clumsy when it reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, sending Nickel a few texts. 'hey... jw are you okay??' 'um. did you get a letter' 'please come over soon'
Sending those messages to his boyfriend managed to calm him down just a bit, and he impatiently awaited a response, one of his legs moving up and down in nervous habit. Allen collected all of the papers, slipped them back into the envelope and tossed it across the room, not caring where it landed. He then leaned back and got comfortable on the couch, reaching for his remote to flick on the TV. Whatever it is, it's nothing important, he thought, doing his best to try and relax by focusing on the show playing out on his television. It can't get to me. It's not even fucking real.
