blake kathryn
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz
if i look back, i am lost
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Product Placement
Cosmic Funnies
d e v o n
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titsay
One Nice Bug Per Day
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Acquired Stardust
Kaledo Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Keni
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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@wantsforever
( # WANTSFOREVER. ) an independent, highly selective, low activity writing blog. cici / cierra, 25, eastern timezone, she / her pronouns. mutuals only. read rules and fill out interest tracker before following. 21+ ( no exceptions! ) i'm anti-most of the writers that are listed on my muse list because so many are pieces of shit. PLOTTING - HEAVY BLOG. heavily affiliated with ( @foreverwants. )
"look," kimberly rages through her teeth, sarcasm being returned only oiling those wheels.
the point of wandering seemed like a good idea, but going alone didn't which is why out of the entire group steve was the only one left; much rather be left with someone who didn't feed off her energy, having two of her was a pain in the ass.
the question to be asked is why? kimberly swore there was something off about this path, unlike the rest. someone or something lurking further up, but she could never make it past the invisible barrier and when she stepped over her time limit. kimberly felt the urge to run in the opposite direction, maybe it was the missing kid or a pinch of evil that kimberly did not want to mess with.
"listening to you is what got me into this position." kimberly carefully took his hand, picking herself up before dusting off any residue from the ground. "why do you think the universe is biased towards you? do you flirt with the universe on your spare time?"
the invisible border was only a couple feet away, kimberly trying to think of anything else besides running. "there's something further out there, i know it."
in a town like hawkins, steve can't find it in himself to argue that something lays beyond the unworn path. at this point, he feels that anywhere he turns there will be something lurking. call it paranoia or call it intuition, at this point in his life they're one in the same. eyes squint in the direction she gestures in, making a genuine effort to see whatever she sees, but there's nothing but trees in their place and rocks laying where they should. birds fly overhead, an ominous call in a language that he isn't fluent in, and he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck only to find that the hairs are standing. yeah, a little creepy.
❝ i'm not saying the universe is biased or whatever towards me. ❞ ignores the second comment, only blesses it with an eye roll. ❝ i'm just saying that i don't think it's a good idea to go anywhere near a place where you're getting weird energy. and, look, you fell. just proof that the universe is agreeing with me. ❞
looks again, licks his lips, releases a groan. a groan of acknowledgement that there's no way he's going home tonight without going down this stupid freaking path, because there's a nagging feeling that kimberly isn't giving him a choice in the matter.
❝ okay. say we go down there and there is something bad. then what? ❞
────────────── arms cradle her knees as dirtied converse dig into the gravel underneath their feet , gaze falls upon the other as head nods in agreement . she grabs the joint from him when it’s outstretched , takes the final two hits before cherry is pressed into the pavement . the joint had been laced with micro doses of vervain and wolfsbane ────── entirely unnoticeable to the average human , but the only way that nora’s high would last ⁽ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵘʳⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰᵉʳ ˡᵘⁿᵍˢ ˢᵉʳᵛᵉˢ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᶠᵃⁱˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᵈ ⁿᵒ ᵘᵖᵈᵃᵗᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵉᵗ ⁾ . she lets out a heavy sigh , watches as the smoke curls from pursed lips , before figure springs upright . maybe it genuine intrigue , or maybe it was just the desperation to connect with someone in the absence of her twin’s presence , but nora found herself hanging around steve a lot more now ────── maybe he was hiding something , the same way she was concealing the truth about herself .
❝ yknow , hawkins is not what i expected it to be . ❞ small town where everyone knew everyone , the perfect place for brenner to conceal his experiments ────── if nora didn’t know any better , she would’ve believed the mediocrity that disguised it all . fingers gently brush against her tattoo ⁽ ᵃ ᵇʳᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗᵒˣⁱⁿˢ ˢʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ, ᵃ ᵖᵉʳᵐᵃⁿᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵉⁿᵈᵘʳᵉᵈ ⁾ , a subconscious attempt at soothing the unease that she’d had ever since returning to hawkins . ❝ or maybe the town is just really good at disguising its secrets . ❞
a laugh bubbles in his throat, swallows it down past his dry throat to settle in his stomach as a gleeful irony. she doesn't know the half of it. secrets is an understatement for what lays in the boundaries of hawkins. small town on the outside, normal people roaming the streets, inconspicuous in its very nature. on the inside, deeper evils loom beneath the surface, vibrating the pavement and rustling through the trees. hawkins isn't a small town, but the town that unapologetically holds the end of the fucking world. being so entwined into its problems makes the severity of the situation seem duller. that is, until reflection is actually done and the gravity weighs him down to wherever he stands, threatening to crush him.
❝ something like that, ❞ steve scoffs, closed fist rubbing at his bloodshot eye.
the desire to bring nora into the circle is strong, the words on the tip of his tongue, but it's squashed by the stronger desire to keep it on a need - to - know basis. too many lives are forever changed by the knowledge, lives that could have carried on as normal if not for the brash confrontation of reality being more than it seems. steve shrugs, his head lulling back, before he looks at her with a more serious expression on his face.
❝ everything has its secrets though, doesn't it? ❞
❝ of course not. nothing could make you wanna sit down and listen to what i've got to say, because then you'd be forced to deal with the fact that i'm not bullshitting you, i'm just spewing out facts. cold, hard facts, that are easier to ignore than to digest. ❞ izzie had always had an affinity for psych rotations, but in alex karev's case, she didn't even have to try too hard: he was just stuffed with mommy issues, which stunted him in ably navigating healthy intimate relationships, specially with women.
the blonde takes a beat, and gives him some mercy, as she knew she wasn't getting much more other than a growl from pushing his buttons any further. instead, she switches gears into a classic, more sutble: guilt-tripping. ❝ do you have any idea what some stranged children would do for a chance to meet their dad? you've been granted an opportunity here, alex, and, as part of those stranged children, i think you should at least consider it before turning your back on it. you have your entire life to hate him, could a couple days break really be so bad? ❞
it becomes more clear to alex now than ever that izzie stevens didn't know when to stop. she pushes, pushes, pushes, until the victim is given no choice but to push back. then, alex notes bitterly, she has the audacity to act like she's the victim. this situation couldn't revolve further outside of her orbit, yet she still tries and nose her way in.
❝ cold, hard facts, ❞ alex mocks in his best izzie impression ( rather childishly ), topping it off with an eye roll that not only involves his eyes, but his head and shoulders as well. ❝ the fact is that you don't know how to take no for an answer. and that's the answer, no. ❞
his body visibly tenses at the direct mention of his father, turning around to begin his angry walk towards the elevator, but the footsteps behind him signal that even a forced departure wasn't releasing the leash that izzie is determined to keep strapped tightly around his neck. he whips around, permanent crease between his brows, and leans in close.
❝ listen to me. you don't know shit about my dad, or this situation, or anything. that man in there is not a dad, never has been, and sure as hell isn't gonna start now. you might wanna believe him because you're the hopeless optimist that wants to fix everything and fall for the first thing people say, but that's not reality, izzie. come back down to planet fucking earth and stop acting like you know everything! you don't! ❞
floyd craved the normalcy they used to have prior to their separation . it was nice having someone else around , it was nice not having to be alone all the time , nice not having to organize pick up and drop off in regard to their son but things were rarely that easy . " i'm not blaming you , brooke . " he responds too quickly , pausing in his movement of drying dishes to look over at her . " i didn't ask you to apologize either . you're the mother of my child , doesn't matter that i liked her what you think is still important to me . "
it's hard to not soften at the admission, but this is the cycle. he says something sweet, she falls for it, they fall back together, and it doesn't work. their problems, unrecognized at the roots, always return to become insurmountable obstacles with a spotlight on why they wouldn't work. why they don't work. she replaces the softened expression with a more neutral one immediately, diverting her eyes in the general direction of the sink the second that he meets her gaze.
❝ what you think is important to me too. if you didn't like this guy, then i'd take that into consideration. ❞
she didn’t need his number on speed dial, because it was the only digits she called. there were no friends to stay in touch with. not when she spent most of her days out of her mind on whatever drug barry would happily sell to her. but she did know some names of those who lived around her. and rafe cameron was one of them. the eldest of the children in that family, and someone she kept her eye on whenever she saw him from a distance at whatever house party she decided to attend. what she didn’t expect, though, was for him to be sprawled out on the couch of barry’s trailer. without his presence to occupy the space that was left within.
❝ fuck. ❞ her breath hitched as his voice sobered her up more than anyone ever could. causing her bones to shake, and her entire body to jump, as his words were unexpected. ❝ do you know when he’ll be back? ❞ not that she was desperate. or maybe she was. but he didn’t need to know that. ❝ since when did you slum it on his couch anyway? aren’t you like, one of the richest kooks on this island. ❞ or his father was, at least. ❝ did daddy take out the trash? you know, since you’re literally trailer now. ❞
the complaint that's been high on his endless list of them is the heat. barry offhandedly mentioned the air conditioning being broken, only two box fans with no strategic placement set up in the trailer to combat the sticky, still heat in the small space. one is moved to behind rafe's head, just above the couch's arm, but his body still feels like he's just gotten back from a swim from the high humidity. therefore, he's in no mood to deal with the junkies of the cut. except, as far as he's aware, sofia isn't a pogue. which makes her spontaneous arrival all the more entertaining, while simultaneously being all the more irritating.
❝ no, ❞ he replies simply, hoping that the dismissive answer is enough for her to turn on her heel and go back to wherever the fuck she came from.
it's not, though, and her next statement is enough to push his body into a sitting position, the fan now directly hitting the back of his head. hair is pushed from the soft breeze, his hand running through it to get it off of his sweat slicked forehead.
❝ what'd you say? ❞ his voice is low, the cocaine flowing freely through his veins making his anger spike within seconds. flexes his fist, furrows his brows, and huffs out a humorless laugh. ❝ that's fuckin' rich from you, comin' in here scratchin' at your arms an' shit. take your junkie ass somewhere else, come back later. ❞
it was her favourite thing to do, or at least one of many. laying there, nothing on but her bikini, high heels she refused to remove, and her signature glasses shielding her eyes from the sun. as she stared off into the distance. keeping her attention on the male who chose to mow her families lawn without a shirt on. something she sometimes assumed he did on purpose. because it gave her something to gawk at. causing her heart to beat out of her chest, and wish she could walk over without hesitation or the possibility that someone would see. but she kept her composure, and stayed in the very same position. even when his presence was made known by his voice. and she finally got the chance to feel flustered up close but barely personal.
❝ what can i say? watching you put your blood, sweat, and tears into cutting our grass is exhausting. ❞ but despite her playful tone, she kept a straight face. her glasses being pulled forwards ever so slightly. so she could stare at what she claimed without the tint of gray. ❝ if you want a real distraction, i could give you one. ❞ the palms of her hands gently pressing against the lawn chair as she pushed herself up into a seated potion. eventually swinging her legs over the side, and planting her rather high heels onto the ground. ❝ but since you came over to me, and decided to make it look like i’m socialising with the help, that little extra you want? you’re gonna have to work for it. and i don’t mean finishing what you’ve already started over there. ❞
kooks are people that he doesn't interact with, not by a long shot. the most interaction he gets is when the girls want a night of stepping onto the wild side and rebelling from their daddy, ending up bent over with their hands against the rough bark of a tree. what can he say? even he can't refuse a good night with the enemy. tillie is no exception, if we weren't counting the fact that she wasn't a one time thing. nothing serious though. more just a way to silently stick it to topper, never taking his insults too seriously with the knowledge that he's sticking it to his sister whenever he gets the chance. he can't resist it. their interactions are purely fueled by mutual annoyance, always going back and forth with insults and eye rolls until the frustration builds too much that it explodes.
rolls his lower lip between his teeth thoughtfully, before his oral fixation is satisfied with a long pull from his joint. the wind blows the exhaled smoke in her direction, but he doesn't bother to use his hand to switch up the trajectory. he notices her heels when they click onto the ground, briefly wondering if it's to draw attention to her legs, eyes traveling up the length of her body until they settle back on her face. a casual shrug of his shoulders portrays his never faltering nonchalance.
❝ you're givin' me one right now. shame if the grass doesn't get done. ❞ body leans further onto the fence, ignoring the way the wood digs at his underarms and presses into his chest. ❝ and what work did'ya have in mind? you know i'm not one for doin' more than i'm gettin' paid for. sorry, princess. ❞
well, this couldn't be further from her yale existence. sure, there are parties there just like this, but she's hardly one to attend. she's only a few months into freshman year, but she can confidently say that she's never felt more like a crazy college co-ed than when she steps on the campus of steve's state school. it's a whole different world here. yale comes with a whole heavy batch of baggage that she's carrying on her shoulders like atlas carried the world on his. when she's here, rory gets to put that baggage down for a little while ( although, she still does travel with several books, so it's only her metaphorical load that lightens ). she knows what steve's friends think of her — that she's little miss brainiac, never up for a good time. maybe she's just not interested in their idea of fun. sometimes she's surprised that steve is. it all seems a bit much.
as per usual, she's been abandoned in a corner somewhere shy of an hour ago. this is when her books come in handy. right now, she's rereading pride and prejudice — it had been a while since she read any austen and she missed it. it's also definitely a nice break from some of the heavier russian lit she's been reading for one of her classes. around the time that mr. darcy is mr. darcy-ing, she's approached by one of steve's fraternity brothers — john? jake? jeff — there it is — with a cup of warm beer she has no intention of drinking and an offer to check out his book collection upstairs. with another glance around the room and no steve in sight, rory figures what's the harm. she mostly wants to see what a book collection looks like in a house like this.
they've reached the top of the stairs when all of a sudden there's a tug on her wrist. before she knows it, she's stowed away in a corner with steve, who looks like he's just seen a ghost.
" i was exactly where you left me, up until two minutes ago, " rory states plainly, " you couldn't have been looking that hard. jeff and i were talking books. he wanted to show me some he had in his room. he said he's taking a literary heroines course this semester — sounds interesting. "
a sudden urge of protectiveness makes his hair stand up on the back of his neck, glaring in the direction of jeff, who is waiting dutifully outside of his bedroom door. doesn't even realize the way his eyes narrow until they soften as he looks back at rory, a natural reaction. steve knows for a fact that his room is a mess. he's got a nice face, nicer body thanks to the conditioning from the football team, but it's steve that has to remind him to be a civilized human being and not attract ants. and that's saying a lot considering that steve isn't the cleanest either. being raised by a nanny had its perks, but a maid coming daily was even better. messes weren't his job, so to say that keeping his space tidy is a struggle is a massive understatement.
❝ i looked. ❞
the argument comes weakly, releases as something resembling a whine, but it's true. the time tracks, two minutes ago is when he left the girl that seemed like a sure shot of getting into his bed tonight on the search for rory. it seemed like longer, but his search wasn't extensive by any means. he huffs again, eyes falling down to her hands in search of a drink. a red solo cup is held loosely between her fingers, hanging down forgotten by her side. that enough is a surprise in its own, steve generally unsuccessful in getting her to partake in that part of his college life save for a few rare circumstances. it looks untouched though, so the shock of it being in her hand ends there.
❝ please. jeff doesn't read, he smokes weed and plays football. ❞ in fact, steve is sure that his phone was in his hand with a page about literary heroines pulled up. his relationship with jeff is stable enough, but the guy wasn't any smarter than he was, which isn't very smart at all. ❝ he probably wants to sleep with you, even if he has to talk books to do it. ❞
✉ → "last time i listened to you, we almost died." / @obxqveens
the pogue puts his hands up in an exaggerated surrender, but not before holding his right hand to his heart to demonstrate pure, unbridled hurt.
❝ me? come on, give me some credit. ❞
the accusation that his plans cause more trouble than solutions isn't new to him, psyche accustomed to the accusations of impulsivity. never forces anyone to participate, not verbally, but most follow his lead for the sake of ensuring that they don't have his funeral to attend later in the week.
❝ i wouldn't say we almost died. that's really fuckin' dramatic. more like almost got seriously injured, but there's a very fine line. ❞
✉ → "i would say i don't know what's wrong with you but i actually do and that's the problem." / @lovethcrn
a pattern that he's been called out for in the past is his tendency to react. something broken in his brain that permits thought before action, immediately jumping on whatever is said or done to him with little care to consequences. it doesn't help that his relationship with lucas is unsteady, a brother that he was raised to never acknowledge. walls are still up, hostility stronger than ever, his presence undeniable anywhere nathan turns. the basketball court, his sessions with hayley, his dad. his eyebrows furrow, lips pursed tight and paired with a clenched jaw.
❝ what the hell's that supposed to mean? ❞ he snaps, tone demanding. he steps forward, the little distance between them growing smaller still, faces inches apart. ❝ what's wrong with me, lucas? how about what's wrong with you? ❞
✉ → "people put you down enough and you start to believe it." / @lovethcrn
longs to crack her heart open so love leaks out and envelopes him in a warm embrace, the feeling of adoration so overwhelmingly strong that she isn't sure she could put it to words. all she can think in the moment is: finally, my turn. a boy who loves her, trusts her, who can show emotions candidly. she smiles softly, just the slightest upturn of glossed lips, crawling over the length of the bed. her legs settle on either side of his waist as she curls into him, straddles his laps, wraps her arms around his neck and cards manicured nails through his hair.
❝ luke... ❞ she trails off with a sigh, never the wordsmith.
that's always been peyton. knowing how to string the right syllables together to express her thoughts poetically, in a way that makes brooke blink twice and wonder if she's misheard her. but that's the beauty of this, luke doesn't want peyton. brooke doesn't have to be anyone but herself, even if it isn't as well thought as she'd like. she lifts her head from his shoulder, continues to fuss with his hair.
❝ screw them. you're amazing. and so what you're not nathan and you don't have pervy dan scott as a dad? i'd say that's luck, if anything. ❞ the smile returns, head tilted slightly to the left. ❝ you have to ignore those guys. they can't even tell their rights from their lefts. ❞
────────────── the groan follows heavy sigh , blue hues roll in their sockets as ice cream is scooped into another cone . figure slowly walks backwards , body leans against the wall before she takes a bite of the vanilla cone . ❝ no offense , but i think she’s just not that interested . ❞ bluntness makes another appearance as they speak with mouth full , head slowly shakes before cone is pointed in his direction . ❝ your love life certainly isn’t any of my business . . . ❞ head rests against the cool tile , eyes study steve . they had been in the same school for years , but were lumped into two completely different worlds . they’d never really spoken before he’d started working at scoops , just a couple of weeks prior ────── to think ice cream would be the great unifier !
❝ but i can’t keep listening to you groan about nancy fucking wheeler . it’ll be a really long summer if you do . ❞ ice cream finds its way back to their mouth , fingers gently tap against the waffle cone to the beat of an inaudible song . ❝ she’s already moved on , dingus . it’s time for you to do it too . ❞
no sign of surprise that that's the reaction he receives. he's been droning on about nancy since the beginning of their shift, only leaving the topic for a few exchanged words before ultimately coming back to it. robin is considered a best friend, his only age - appropriate friend as the rest of them are fourteen. isn't going to talk to dustin about his girl issues for the sake of it feeling weird, so robin is the receiver of the problems that spill out in endless word vomit. does, however, narrow his brows at their blunt delivery, the line between them etched into his skin even after he relaxes them.
❝ thanks, captain obvious. i know she's not interested, she's interested in stalker perv byers now. ❞ his face twists, like jon's very name makes a sour taste explode in his mouth. ❝ but it is your business. who else am i supposed to talk to? ❞
saying it out loud helps him see how pathetic it is that his only friend is his coworker. he has tommy, of course, but lately their priorities have been too different to reconcile. tommy's focus is on sex and sports, whereas steve's sort of saving the world. no big deal.
❝ who am i supposed to move on with? i don't want her to think i'm not interested if she does decide to come back. ❞
plotted starter for @gilmor!
two lives colliding, separate halves becoming whole. it's always an impossible balance when rory comes to visit him at school, simultaneously trying to remember his origin and the expectations that he's always consistently met at college. getting mindless quips from his teammates that he's whipped or comments about have you hit it yet? is unavoidable. he shakes them off, seasoned at ignoring, always with an eye roll and a pushback about how we're just friends. and it's the truth. half-truth, because they're best friends. at least, she's his best friend. and even though a night where rory comes and visits always ends with her making a remark about his personality around his friends, it'd always be worth it. especially because she says it with a smile.
it's another night where she's come up to visit, a small party taking place in his fraternity house. ( not uncommon, there's usually always something going on, even if it's a tuesday night. ) stays relatively close to rory until his attention is pulled for a keg stand that he can never morally deny, stolen by a blonde with a revealing top and a flirtatious laugh soon after. how his nights usually go are drink, find a girl, drink more. in that order. but with rory here, and not in his sight, he finds his thoughts gravitating towards her whereabouts more than the girl who throws herself at him unabashedly, manicured nails running up his arm. while normally something he'd take without hesitation, he offers her a kind smile, a dismissive i'll be right back, and goes to search. no intention on going back.
it's on his search that he finds rory with one of his frat brothers, jeff, trailing behind him up the stairs long staircase to where the second floor bedrooms are placed. brows furrow, heart pounds, and he pushes through the crowd to catch up.
❝ hey, sorry, ❞ he apologizes, mostly to jeff, wrapping his fingers around rory's wrist to tug her to the side. jeff's complaints are loud but ignored, steve raising a hand at him to acknowledge that he's heard him and that he just needs a second. by the time he reaches them, they're already up the stairs, so he brings her to the corner of the hallway, away from jeff's ears. ❝ what're you doing? i've been looking for you. ❞
someone please give me a plot with a frat boy who’s like every normal frat boy. he drinks too much, he parties, and he sleeps with random girls but everything changes when he’s around the girl from back home. the girl that really matters to him. he doesn’t want to admit that he likes her a lot but, that’s what it comes down to when one of the guys in his frat house wants to hook up with her and she’s perfectly willing.
it was the side of the island he tried his best to avoid. but when your client was a kook, and the eldest of the cameron’s, you did as you were asked. or in this case, told. as rafe made it clear he needed the damage to disappear. no ifs, no ands, no buts. no questions at all. paid with cash that clearly didn’t belong to daddy. in hopes that all his troubles, whatever they were, would be gone in an instant. only it took more than a day to fix. working himself through the night, and making sure his repair was solid enough for no complaints. and he didn’t have any. not when he called to give the good news, and suggested returning the motorcycle on his own accord. not because he wanted to be helpful, but because he hoped to run into the one person who made him say yes to the job in the first place. his younger sister, the middle child. kook princess, and secret lover, sarah cameron.
he rode the bike most of the way, testing out his work, and making sure the money was worth spending. not that he ever doubted himself. but to make an enemy out of rafe cameron, that was something he didn’t want. slowing down once he reached tannyhill, switching off the engine and placing the soles of his shoes firmly on the ground. and that was when he pushed it the rest of the way. through the drive, and up towards the front door of the house. making sure ward and rose were nowhere in sight. but catching a glimpse of the blonde he was desperate to see out of the corner of his eye.
❝ did you hear i was coming, or does this come as a total surprise? ❞ he never stepped foot on the land before. there was no way he would ever be welcome if it wasn’t for the services he provided. ❝ but since you’re here— ❞ the key being pulled from the ignition and clasped in the palm of his right hand. walking the distance between her and the bike. ❝ —i’ll leave these with you. ❞ he was smooth with it, taking her hand in his, and using the key as an excuse to linger.
➥ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 › ◟ @wantsforever ◝ . for sarah cameron .
a frustrating morning had sarah's brow knitted together as she sat on her front porch, knees pulled to her chest and phone resting on her shin. mindlessly scrolling, enjoying the summer sun even in the shade. it's unbearable, the heat, but it's tolerability surpasses rose droning on in the kitchen, loudly munching on sliced cucumbers with no dressing while on the phone with her sister. the argument with her brother and dad has came and went, rafe deciding it was a perfect idea to take the heat off of himself by ratting sarah out for sneaking out in the middle of the night. of course, it's easily settled with a bat of her lashes towards her dad and a slightly protruding lower lip, always a daddy's girl. her father is always quick to forgive her, planting a kiss on the side of her head and turning the scolding to rafe, but the look in her brother's eyes always leaves her feeling uneasy. long since abandoned the idea of forming a healthy sibling relationship with him -- he was a lost cause. her abandonment doesn't mean she wants him ratting out her whereabouts, though. the further away that rafe is from this situation, the better.
the sound of his bike creates a instinctual reaction in her to push herself off the chair and sequester herself to her room, but one sideways glance reveals not her brother's body leaning over the handles of the bike, but axel. the crease between her brows immediately softens, a smile playing on her glossed lips, a cautionary check over her shoulder to confirm the coast is clear before she's gravitating towards him.
❝ total surprise, ❞ she informs him, lower lip dug into by front teeth to suppress the emotion. just in case. ❝ i didn't think i'd ever see you over here. i thought you'd burst into flames if you ever willingly crossed the line between the cut and figure eight. ❞
his touch lingers, gone too soon, and sarah's head shifts towards the door again. cameras line the tanneyhill property, a precautionary measure. sarah sometimes wonders if they're more to monitor rafe than any potential intruders. slides the key ring around her finger and gives it a spin, keeping her voice low.
❝ he's lucky i don't throw these in the ocean. i swear, he's three seconds away from getting his shit burned. ❞ fights the overwhelming urge to reach out and seek the return of the contact. ❝ i didn't even know his bike was broken. he paid you, right? ❞
it caught her off-guard sometimes, how at ease she felt in brooke's company. it probably shouldn't, considering they'd been best friends since kindergarten, but it was quite disarming, to have someone you felt so comfortable with you just blurted out your deepest and darkest reflections.
however, just because you felt allowed to speak didn't mean the other was ready to listen. really listen.
ergo, peyton defaulted to her snarky bitch mode, as that was a version of herself much more palatable to the masses, including brooke. ❝ funny, that sounds exactly like what my asshole, self-obsessed boyfriend would do. thanks, but no thanks. ❞ peyton declared, spreading the crimson polish swiftly over her toe nail. ❝ who would you suggest i stick it to him with anyway? tim's sticky teddy bear? ❞
projection. a word that brooke would acknowledge if she fully knew what it meant, but until then, only exists in the background as fuel for her interactions. seen as a toy, only for boys to play with and use before recklessly discarding to be with someone like peyton sawyer. the love she has for her best friend is unconditional and brooke doesn't deny that peyton has what boys are looking for, but irritation makes her jaw clench. how could she not see her luck? nathan scott is the most popular jock in the school, highly sought after, but the commitment isn't good enough? brooke would kill to have someone choose her. over and over and over again, not just for one night.
❝ was he really that bad, or are your standards just high? ❞ brooke challenges, voice sweet but raised eyebrows expectant. ❝ i wouldn't touch tim's anything with a ten foot pole. ❞ exaggerates a gag to prove her point, nose scrunching. ❝ but, really, you can't expect too much from high school guys. that's why i say that college boys are where it's at. ❞
floyd doesn't regret inviting brooke to stay for dinner , even if he hated every part of this conversation . things weren't always so complicated between them and he is painfully aware of this as he begins to dry off the plates and set them aside in the metal rack sat beside the sink . " whatever , that's not my point . " and they both knew what his point was . this argument , on both sides , was stemmed in jealousy not much else . " you didn't like her , you said it multiple times and whether we're together or not what you think still matters . i told her i wasn't ready , that's all . "
hands are kept away from the dishes that he works on out of habit, a routine that they decided early on she would never participate in. he did the dishes, she did the laundry. he got folded clothes, and she didn't have to get soggy food under her nails. old habits die hard. her body stays leaning against the counter, forced to confront the messes made. her idea of a family never amounted to this. always supposed to be a happily ever after, never supposed to be scheduled visits and gritted teeth.
"it feels like you're trying to blame me when it was your decision," her voice comes out soft, confrontation lessening, but still firm. "i didn't like her. i won't apologize for that."
