Bryn sits on the balcony of her parents' room, hair mussed and in her dress from last night, the ebony ribbons on the corset-back loose and tangled. She stares into the horizon as the sun rose from beyond the gray sky. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep and her broken heart seared. She's been switching between her father's study and the balcony for days.
It was because of the unexplained passing of Jackson Blackwell that occurred two nights ago, who looked forced into slumber. It broke her heart how he looked so dull and unlike himself with a thin frown, haggard complexion, and a face free of dimples and affection.
She clutches the blanket around her and her gaze doesn't shift from the sun. The screen door slides open and out came Harper, who sat beside her, still wearing his suit from the previous night. His rumpled dress shirt exposed a well-toned chest, his hair stuck up at all angles, a shadow of stubble veiled his jaw, and dark rings circled his eyes. He looked just as terrible as she.
"Bryn," he mumbles, obviously exhausted. "you should come inside. It's really cold out. You're gonna get sick."
Despite wanting to add some sort of wit on how she'd rather catch a cold and pass out than have to deal with the brutal world, she couldn't find her right mind and only nodded, not even building the enough energy to write lyrics or practice. It felt like her heart was frostbitten.
"I'll come in soon." she manages. "Let me just stay here to think, I'm just - I don't know … I don't know anymore."
She looks down at her hands and as many times as she had washed them they still felt soiled with the sick touch of death from her father. She hadn't even realized how cold his flesh was.
But she knew Harper wouldn't spend time lecturing her. He knew her pain and shared it. He didn't give her his apologies or offer a reassurance because they both knew it wouldn't be for a while.
So when a cold bead drips onto her shoulder, she found him frowning, a streak of tears glistening on his cheekbone, his lips parted and eyes wild with anguish. "I'm sorry," he apologizes and his eyes dampen. "Honestly, I ... am."
She crawls closer, stares with eyes that slowly began tearing before crushing herself into him, digging her nails into his back as he pulls her in, murmuring gibberish and sobbing. "Harper, please don't cry," she murmurs against their locked arms. "or you're gonna make me cry, too."
"I'm sorry!" He sobs into her shoulders as she attempts to calm him, arms encircling one another in protective cages. Her vision fogs over and his face becomes invisible as she shakes her head, clothing and limbs drowning in ice and salt. "I'm so sorry!"
Her navy mascara stripes her face in ugly smudges of tears. "Harper … shh."
Twins share everything. Voices, genders, appearances, sometimes even personalities.
But the Blackwell twins are only sharing one thing in common today –
Tears.
X
Dean leans against a bench in Central Park, the wood cracked and one plank was missing. He didn't care because he was busy trying to think why Claire had purposely sabotaged Winnie at the gala she hosted recently. It wasn't surprising that Claire didn't like Winnie either. He should've grown accustomed to her cold nature by now.
He drinks his decaf from a foam cup, listening to the sparrows in the trees. Watches pigeons peck a grimy, half-eaten onion bagel. But again, didn't care. Because he knew plainly by the glares Claire always gave him that she felt nothing for him and considered him a slob. Right?
The memory reels in his head like a classic rerun.
He sat, slicking his fingers through his hair while watching couples waltz like professionals, one which happened to be Bryn and Javier. Who would've ever thought the great heartbreakers of the UES would end up together? Because who didn't know of the Pesavento/Blackwell scandal and Javier's wild past?
"Hey, Dean," Claire called, sauntering over as he devoured a cheese cube. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight?" She looked bruised and tired. A yellow bruise beneath her left eye and a few scratches on her forearms. He could only imagine what happened. Claire didn't seem like the type to brawl on a floor, ripping another girl's extensions out.
It was also surprising to see her not strike up better conversation. She might as well have asked him about the weather. She was supposed to be the fearless queen and here she was questioning him about his night.
Dean shrugged, not at all troubled. "Fine." he answered, tossing a toothpick in a bin under the table. "You sure know how to go all out, Claire. This is really unlike your usual standards."
Claire giggled and twirled her hair. "Thanks," she trilled with a smile. "I was trying to get it to a different level for October. By the way, aren't you going to dance?"
Dean shook his head. He wasn't much of a dancer and was glad for that. Apparently Bryn wasn't either seeing as she practically crushed Javier's toes. Despite the pain, he stayed in Bryn's eyes. "No." he answered, almost rudely. "Dancing isn't my thing."
Claire laughed and stole a wineglass off the table. "Surprisingly enough, I don't like it either." In the background, the song 'Nothin' On You' begun in remix beats. Bryn left the floor immediately and took a flute of champagne from a waiter as she hurried to the smoking room.
The corners of Dean's mouth rose. "That is surprising." he agreed, watching Claire lower her champagne. He never thought he'd ask this. "Come on, why don't we go for a walk? Let's find a balcony and stare at the stars like some clichéd movie couple."
Claire smirked. "As stupid as that sounds, I'll join."
They rose to their feet, strode never-ending corridors, and descended stairwells to reach the balcony with the best view. City lights shimmered and building roofs illuminated in changing color. "I have my days where I don't like it here," Dean muses. "but sometimes the view makes it worth it."
"It's really gorgeous, isn't it?" she inquired, his hand slowly finding hers. What was he doing? Who would've thought he'd make a move on Claire? "New York sure is something ..."
Dean nods and smiles. Did he like Claire? They weren't that close and he was almost closer to Bryn since he had met her at Antonio's days ago. They both ironically shared a love for short stories.
Suddenly he found himself leaning in – was he going to kiss her? New York is always flooded with surprise. What could one kiss mean?
As they approached one another, eyes shutting, soft tickling of breath, and lips barely apart.
Then –
"Dean!" a distressed girl cried. They startled apart to see Winnie, her cocktail dress in tatters, rips in the silk bodice exposed her taut stomach. She looked ready to scream despite her pious nature.
"Do you see what Claire's done to me?" she demanded, directing to her dress and the wine stains embedded in the fabric. "She got her minions to do these ... terrible things to me!"
Dean stared at Claire in disbelief. "Did you really?"
Claire opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it, staring at her heels sadly. Dean rolled his eyes. He should've known ...
Without meeting her eyes, he removed his jacket, placed it over Winnie's shoulders and left down the hall with her. Her cross was scratched and sticky with the remnants of a Nairtini.
Though he felt bad for Winnie he still wanted to spend more time with Claire.
Was that so wrong?
Dean continued to linger until it was time for school. Maybe he'd run into Claire again because she'd surely have another party. He discards his thoughts when he finds Bryn on the street, trying to light a cigarette. She eventually flung the unlit cigarette into a flowerbed when she couldn't.
She's in front of him before he realizes it and he could see her crisis if he were blind. Disheveled hair in a topknot and her blue eyes stony and desperate. Surprisingly enough, she wore her full uniform without even her typical rock flair. "Hey," she greets, voice cracking. "mind if I sit?"
He had to lighten her mood. "Sure, don't ask," She forces a smile and slumps down, exhaling like she could barely breathe. "something wrong? You usually seem more upbeat."
She stares at him widely. "If … if I tell you. You have to promise on God, Jesus, Mary, all that religious shit to not tell anyone. You follow?" she vows. He nods and was about to assure her until she held up a ringed little finger. "Pinky swear."
Dean raises an amused brow and laughs, interlocking pinkies momentarily. "You sure are something."
Her smile fades and she stares at the cigarette in the grass, the cobblestone pavements, the tiny bluebirds, anything but him. "My dad just passed."
Dean frowns. He felt bad and wanted to give her an assurance but since he hadn't really grown up with his father he had nothing.
So he opens his arms to her in a deserving embrace. She slid over and fell into his arms, not returning it but feeling her depression soften the slightest. Her chest pounded like a drum against his. It made him worry and wish he could do something.
"Damn, I miss him," she says and buries her head into his neck.
Her father was definitely something good if he made her feel like this.
X
"Hi, Steven," Tinsley chimes with a smile. Harper and she had the best evening and it was even better that it was his birthday. What worried her was that she hadn't spoken to him since that day and from what she heard he was pretty shaken up. She didn't do anything, right?
Steven sat on a table in the courtyard, lighting himself a cigarette. The skin around his eye was purple and swollen. He had cut his hair also. The once unruliness of a true grunge artist was now define, parted through the center and curling at his nape. "Yo," he replies, blowing smoke in her direction. "how's it been?"
Tinsley shrugs. "Alright, I guess. The party seemed go – what happened to your eye?"
Steven blinks and suddenly remembers, fingering around the bruised skin with a wince. "I kinda punched Matt when he was drunk and he threw me over a table."
From the opposite end of the table, Matt glares, holds his head in his hands with a cigarette. "I already said sorry, Steven. I was drunk."
Steven rolls his eyes and lowers his baseball cap to obscure his black eye. "And stupid. Wait, you already are."
Matt sighs and smiles friendlily at Tinsley, lifting his head. "Just ignore him. Have you seen Bryn or Harper? We've been looking for them."
"That's odd," Tinsley adds and looks around but can't find them either. "I hope they're okay."
"It's a first actually." Steven bites a hangnail and takes a drag. "Usually Harper and Bryn are here before we are."
She scowls. It was shocking to know not even they seen them because they usually keep the strongest tabs on them. Maybe they were sleeping in or taking a free day. It wasn't like them to avoid their friends like this.
"Steven!"
The three spun around to see Bryn standing behind them. She looked ready to cry at the cigarette in Steven's hand but that didn't seem like it'd set her off. He extinguishes his cigarette while he stares at Bryn nervously. "You promised you wouldn't," she whispers, eyes strangely glistening.
"Bryn," Steven calls, reaching for her. "it was just –"
Bryn gave him the finger and shook her head. "I seriously don't wanna hear it, I'm not in one of my greatest moods so go smoke and drink 'til you kill yourself just don't come to me if you do." And she heads off, combat boots stomping noisily. They had all gone silent.
Steven climbs to his feet, ready to chase after her, not even properly greeting Tinsley or Matt as she vanishes into the white Constance doors. He could only return to his seat. "I'm so fucking stupid."
Matt smiles like a monster. "I think we can all agree on that today."
Tinsley watches Constance girls enter after Bryn had. She'd talk to her while in music class, pluck some notes, and then head into cafetria for yogurt. Bryn wasn't one to have such a temper with her friends. What had gone on?
"I hope she's okay," Tinsley told Steven while he tosses a pack of cigarettes into the trash, attempting a smile.
A golden blur hurries by while Tinsley watches, unable to catch their face before looking back to an angry Matt and pained Steven. Automatically their phones beeped which made Tinsley jump before she pops open her phone, reading a new gossip blast.
Hello, Upper East Siders. We've got an awfully short blast today considering the three deaths I've been noted of. Two of these three lovelies we know well. Prepare the Kleenex and ice cream everyone. Cherry Garcia tastes good with tears.
(A picture of Bryn appears, holding the finger to Steven in all her misery. Her hair in knots and rings beneath her eyes, anguished frowns reside on her eyebrows)
Bryn Blackwell
Little Bryn here sticks middle fingers to her friends and is actually beginning to cry afterward. Who would've thought our little punk bombshell would go soft? Sadly, I would've never thought of seeing the rocker go weak especially when not even able to smoke a breakfast cigarette.
(Another picture of Bryn shows in Central Park, frantically trying to light a cigarette in her teeth)
Anyway, time to contribute to the others.
(Harper is seen and he appears to be purchasing joints with guy friends in a rundown pizzeria. His tie undone while he pays the scrawny clerk)
Harper Blackwell
St. Jude's purest is seen going mad and buying joints for his buddies. I knew it'd happen sooner or later so I'm not too surprised. I'm wondering what Not So Sweet T will do considering her rock is dropping into the mud of drugs – the same she used to be in, might I add? I'll join a Bad H for a drink any day.
Oh! And did anyone see this?
(A filmy image of Harper is shown holding a joint, inspecting it as if it's a treasured artifact. His eyes slit like a cobra's while his friends grin)
Still not surprising but it makes for some good plot twisters. I literally choked on my ravioli when seeing this and just happened to be one of the lucky witnesses of H's wild side. Certainly, he must've gotten it from his beer-drowning sister or late father, who did I mention just died on their birthday?
That reminds me! Enjoy!
Jackson Blackwell
Man, he didn't last long. I thought he would because he was sorta hot in his day. But seriously, dying from something as typical as an overdose? Jeez, you're no Jackass star. You might as well have committed suicide like the rest of the druggies of the world. Anyway, I have to be considerate enough to add something sweet.
Nothing comes to mind. So enjoy the snippet!
(A final picture comes to the screen with no color of a young Jackson, looking taken from a high school yearbook. His teeth are crooked and his hair is matted to his forehead)
Steven shuts his phone and slides it away, staring into an oblivion of racing thoughts. Bryn and Harper's father died? He had to admit it was horrible. Probably seeing him with that cigarette only made the flames in her become a dangerous firestorm. He didn't think he could do enough to make it up to her.
"That blogger is plain cruel to embarrass them like that." Matt says, breaking the berg of silence holding them together. "That was damn terrible."
Steven doesn't bother to reach for his phone as he rubs his jaw. "That's a bitch for you. We can't do anything but hope they'll be alright. Right, Tinsley?"
Tinsley nods, uninterested. She still couldn't believe it.
But only knew one thing –
She had to help them.
X
Javier and Claire walk to school after Javier had taken twenty minutes in trying to convince her to join him for breakfast. She eventually gave when he offered to pay for her morning latte and pastry. The perfect gentleman.
Claire glances at Javier from the corner of her eye. Usually, he'd brag about the whores he had in his room each evening. He was silent and reading off his phone today.
"What's with you?" she demands and adds venom to get through to him. He blinks and turns to her in little surprise. "You're usually bragging."
Javier smirks. "True," he admits and gazes at her. She could see the daily New York Times headlines on his phone screen. "Did you notice Vena had snuck into your ball the other night? She only tried to ruin it."
Claire rolls her eyes and sips her pumpkin spice latte while she watches an overly-dressed woman strut down the street with her well-groomed Pomeranian. She notices Javier's silence and turns to look at him as he reads his phone again. His eyes are emotionless. She takes his phone off him and is greeted with a horrible headline.
Famed philanthropist and renowned businessman Jackson Blackwell found dead in Manhattan home
"Oh, God," Claire mumbles, color draining from her face. "I can't believe it. I truly can't." She shakes her head, nearly dropping the phone. She could only imagine how Bryn and Harper were dealing with the loss. She worried for them the most because Luciana, their mother and Jackson's former wife, wouldn't give a damn. However, she had the decency to care for her ex-boyfriend's father.
Javier took his phone back. "Jackson was Bryn and Harper's father."
Claire didn't pay mind because of her thoughts as she had never personally been close to their father. Though she spoke with him when she had dated Harper in the past, she realized Bryn acted more like his father rather his mother which didn't surprise her considering how they were supposedly polite, fearless, and overprotective.
She remembers something she witnessed when she'd spent a night at the Blackwell Mansion. It was so long ago that everything was almost normal in life almost.
Claire walked through the abandoned corridors of the mansion after powdering her nose. Jackson Blackwell was currently in the house beyond one of the many doors. Even when not in his workplace in Switzerland, he was locked away in his study where not even Bryn went to bother him.
Halfway through the lonely halls, voices halted her and she was met with an office room, a gold plague that said 'JB' tacked to the door. It only took seconds for her to realize it was Jackson's study. The door was agape and though it was unlike her, she couldn't help but peek in.
Bryn stood before her father, eyes pained and red with tears. " – you said something like that!" she hissed. It was strange to see her have an attitude with her father. "I loved David! More than anything! How was I supposed to know he'd betray me?"
Jackson looks down at her, eyes narrow and sad. He hated to upset his children. "Kitten, please. I would never mean to hurt you." he responded, a frown on his brow. "I never trusted that Pesavento. He isn't for anyone I'd never say anything wrong to my blood."
Bryn shook her head and her breathing was unsteady. "I'm sorry," she said, looking as shameful as she felt, tilting her head to the ceiling. "I never meant to drag you and Harper into this … I never expected for David to do what he did. I thought he loved me like I loved him."
He scowled. He hated apologies they did nothing and when he was about to tell his daughter otherwise, she tightened her ponytail distractedly. "You know, I'm just gonna go for a walk." She grabbed her cardigan. "I'll see you in a while."
Jackson knew not to stop her so Claire stepped away from the door and watched her leave down the opposite hall, somehow not noticing her.
She watched Bryn vanish before returning to the door and looking to see Jackson holding a pipe and inhaling weird smoke. She thought it was herbal at the time. Jackson always warned Bryn and Harper about drugs.
Though she wanted to say something she only returned to Harper, keeping secrets for all.
The Blackwells were much more troubled than she expected.
Claire was glad Javier didn't bother her while she reminisced. She knew they weren't stable.
When she moved to see if he was still beside her, she saw him already heading for St. Jude's, where Vena stood in the entrance, smirking approvingly.
She continues to watch and when Vena reaches to greet him. He completely brushes her off and went inside.
Claire smiles and threw her half-finished latte into the trash before she switches on her heel and struts back to Constance.
Being Claire Larson has never been better.
X
Floria walks through Williamsburg after her lunch of veggie lo mein and herbal cigarettes. She had to get to Constance before she'd be counted late and assigned detention. Her red curls swirl into her eyes as she screams for a cab, raising her arm to hail one but having no luck.
She swerves across the street through the crowd of New Yorkers, searching for a cab or at least a bus to return her back to Constance while she gazes into a shop window with mannequins dressed in nude ribbons causing her to crash into a man. She drops her bag and a textbook onto his feet and is already apologizing.
Grimacing, she knelt for her books. The man did the same, gathering her books quicker before handing them to her gentlemanly. She felt her cheeks burn when she looks up at him. She never felt like this but just by seeing his face it was as if her heart melted.
The man was handsome with a clean-shaved face. His jaw chiseled like the marble statues in the Guggenheim, dark hair that was a good length, and a dimpled smile he gave her when she took back her books. "You're quite the klutz." he told her, holding a hand out to help her. He notices her school skirt and raises a brow. "And apparently, go to Constance. Who would've thought?"
Floria was surprised a man she barely knew was conversating with her but since he was attractive and polite she'd settle. An extra bonus was how good he looked in a blazer and fedora. Young like he just graduated from Columbia. "Yeah, I go to Constance even though it sucks ass." she admits, frowning at the remembrance of The Heartbreakers disbanding and no longer getting a chance to hang with Bryn, Hayden, and Angelina without argument. "Do you go to St. Jude's? You look sorta familiar."
The man smirks, lifts his broad shoulders. "I guess you could say that," he replies, adding mystery to his persona before holding a hand out. "Hunter Harmon, a pleasure. Who might you be?"
Floria shook his hand before retracting it into the pocket of her peacoat. "Floria." she chimes. "Just Floria."
Hunter smiles gently. "Cute." He looks into the street. "Floria … it's a beautiful name." She feels the color creep back to her cheeks and actually smirks when she looks at him again. His looks could have use for something else.
"Um, hey, Hunter." she calls before leaving. "You're really good-looking and all but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor."
Hunter forces a mock-flirtatious smile and extends an arm before pressing his palm to his chest. "For you, dear, anything."
Floria rolls her eyes. He's making this a lot more dramatic than it needs to be. "Hail me a cab, dear."
He chuckles before waving for a cab. To her surprise, three came to him while Floria stares in awe. He smiles proudly and looks her over. "You couldn't do that yourself?"
She went for the backdoor and threw her books in the seat. "Well, sorry for not being as good-looking. Not everyone's perfect."
She seats herself and Hunter approaches before she can shut the door and deepens her blush. "Well, Floria, I think you're just as." And without giving her a chance for more, he steps back and slams the door as she stutters out the route to Constance.
Who knew someone would be able to capture F's heart so fast?
Floria leans back while the vehicle sped the streets. She smiles to herself at the first compliment she had received in a while. It warmed her heart into an inferno.
And she's still so ecstatic she doesn't even care when she receives double detention and an earful from her teacher.
X
"Dean." Claire greets as she approaches him, seats herself beside him while he reads a dog-eared book of poetry. "It's nice to see you. I haven't seen you since my … unfortunate social event over the weekend." She looks around, making sure Winnie isn't in sight before glancing back.
"It wasn't that unfortunate." he shares, flipping a page. "It was actually fun compared to your usual with all the drama that went on. The unexpected guests and the mess left afterward." He skips a few pages until he reaches a chapter labeled: William Bradford.
Claire smiles gratefully. At least someone appreciated the work she'd put into trying to make that ball the best day of those ungrateful Upper East Siders lives. "I really put a lot of work, too." Dean chuckles and shakes his head in mock disapproval before shutting his book for her eyes. He never noticed how many emotions spun through them. "Nobody really seemed to care."
To Claire's surprise, he gave her another smile. "Well, even if no one else does, I do." He withdraws his book into his bag and looks toward a small intersection of shops and felt Claire's sympathetic gaze but didn't meet it. "You shouldn't depend on other opinions all the time, they don't necessarily matter."
"I … guess you're right," she says after a pause. "You know, you give good advice."
"Thanks," He looks afar and sees Winnie approaching with a smile for Claire. She didn't need that stupid religious girl's forgiveness and most certainly didn't want to humiliate herself in front of Dean again by getting her minions to do something like throw her in a fountain or chuck a latte at her back.
Before Claire could leave, Winnie was already in arm's reach as she stood before the two. "Dean, Claire." she sang their names like they were part of a chorus. "Did you both hear? Though I hate to gossip, Bryn and Harper's father passed away."
Dean nods. "Yeah, we've heard. Well, I have. Have you, Claire?"
Claire nods and turns to glare. "Yes, I have," she assures and raises a sultry brow. "and it's not nice to gossip about the dead, sweetie."
Winnie's hopeful smile suddenly vanishes in a scowl. "I wasn't gossiping." she claims. "simply mentioning a rumor."
Dean sighs while Claire shrugs. "Gossiping. Jesus wouldn't like that."
Winnie arches both brows and stares down Claire. "You gossip, too."
Claire bound to her feet and for a moment Dean thought she would hit her but she simply dusts off her skirt. "You forget this -" Her voice trails as her eyes darken with brute humor. "I'm Jewish. I have nothing to worry about." Claire almost felt bad for forcing embarrassment on herself as she went to face Dean. "I'll see you later?"
She wasn't surprised when Dean didn't give her an answer so she went off.
She had nothing to worry about.
X
It was lunchtime. The sky an unusual cloudless blue, the backdrop of a near-impeccable cinema production. Not many were in the cafetrias today because of the Blackwell rumors. Constance girls and St. Jude boys gossiped in their courtyards, smoking cigarettes and eating yogurts. They were all curious to see the Blackwells and prove their rumors true of their father killing himself because his kids lost their V-cards on the same night.
Javier heads out of St. Jude's. A cigarette in his mouth and usual suave sheen on his face.
No one really seemed to be looking out for him today and he couldn't help but feel a tad annoyed because usually he was fawned over for just his shirt and tie. No Bryn or Harper in sight and for once he was surprised because usually Bryn would be with the guys and Harper with the girls.
And he hadn't seen Bryn since the night of her birthday when she was in his suite, drinking scotch and droning about a previous Green Day concert. Saying how high teenagers were convinced that she was Billie Joe's twin. It was pretty entertaining, actually.
But not even Harper was around and he couldn't even ask him for Bryn's whereabouts. Not that he cared. He was just curious like the rest of them.
He looks around and sees Bryn's friends and a few other punks sitting on a courtyard table. They murmur and share cigarettes, passing lighters and Camels around like a drug deal.
He looks between the Constance courtyard and the group before approaching them without second thought, never feeling so awkward in his life when all dark eyes and pierced mouths poised at him.
"Uh, hey," he greets, looking to the blonde with a baseball cap and black eye. The blonde lifts his cap and lowers his cigarette, blinking and staring. "have you maybe seen Bryn?"
"No, he hasn't." a dark-haired punk spits. "Have you not seen his eye? I doubt he could see anything."
"Matt." the blonde sneers. "He was just asking."
Matt looks unrelenting. Careless. "Just asking to have sex with her. If you hadn't realized what happened on her birthday." He rolls dull green stone eyes and leans between matching girls in beaten jackets. "Get out of here, pretty boy. We haven't seen them if you hadn't noticed."
The blonde turns back to him, giving him the benefit of the doubt. His clean eye is wide. "I haven't seen Bryn. I think she might have left early and I'm unsure about Harper."
"Do you think they'll be okay?" He sees a girl murmur to Matt, his eyes flash to her and they're suddenly soft in emotion. "They can't just die."
"They won't." he assures, mostly himself. "I know them to a point that they won't kill themselves for this."
The blonde rolls his eyes. "Hope so."
Simultaneous gasps from both school ends erupt and a slamming of a heavy door. All eyes trace a student talking on his phone in hasty Italian. His face is unshaven and overshadowed in stubble. His tie is undone and his blazer is tucked under one arm, his face is entirely gaunt and he looks as if he hasn't slept in weeks. The gossip and rumors are strong but he doesn't seem to notice as he continues reeling foreign words like bullets.
"Harper," Javier calls, loud enough to hear. But he doesn't break stride or language. "Harper!"
"Pretty boy, hey!" Matt bites, grabbing Javier's arm as he leans to go after the Blackwell. "Leave him alone."
"But –"
"His father died." he repeats with not a pinch of sympathy. "His sister might be missing and he's trying to prepare a funeral alone. They might lose their mansion," His eyes narrow. "they just might have to return to their home and you're worried about not getting the next lay from Bryn? Grow up, honestly."
"It's not about that –"
"Oh, sure, it's not." He scoffs, his words sting like razor cuts. "Then if you want to do what's right. Leave them alone and leave us alone. We're friends not keepers."
X
It was a three-way conversation meant to be business and somewhat friendly. But both twins hated it.
Harper in the family car. Bryn in the mansion basement.
He had meek lunch in his lap; apple halves and a wheat bagel. He didn't have an appetite and was only eating in leisure. Bryn was sorting and organizing Heart and Van Halen music, a Bluetooth in her ear as she orders the cases alphabetically. Balance, Diver Down, Fair Warning … Bad Animals, Bebe le Strange, Brigade …
In both spaces they had never felt so claustrophobic.
On the other end was a voice of familiarity. Becoming almost foreign in their heads. Black ice. Colored smoke.
"I apologize but I'm unable to make it for your father's funeral. I have quite a lot going on at my end."
Bryn's voice pipes in, dark and venomous. "Oh, what's new?"
Harper forces himself to take a bite of his bagel and talks through a mouthful. "Bryn, stop." He swallows the hefty bite and comes close to choking but straightens himself before. "Mom, is it alright if I use some of the Blackwell fund in the safe in Dad's room? I know it's rude –"
"No need to ask, Harper." she cuts in. "I know you won't abuse it. I trust you."
The laugh from Bryn's line is brutal, like the slash of a blade across an unblemished throat. "Why do I exactly need to be in this conversation again? I'm busy myself."
"Because it in involves your father's fortune and your whereabouts, Brynna." their mother answers. "Now, it'd be nice if you –" Bryn's end dies. "Oh, lovely."
"I'm sorry for her," Harper apologizes, nibbling on an apple slice. "I can't really do much about her state of mind."
"I would've sent her to reform school if I had my way," He imagines his mother shaking his head and the apple nearly lodges into his windpipe at the thought of his sister in a terrible boot camp with dirty clothes and bruises on her face. "anyway, I'll do what I can, Harper. I have to cut this conversation short. Trouble booking a show as always. I'll talk to you soon."
He knew it. The usual excuse involved her job and he nods, feels his eyes sting. "Cool. Yeah, talk to you later." He hangs up and doesn't want to wait for a response. Her job was always more important than them. He slides down the window and throws his paper plate out into the street.
Shifting in his seat and murmuring prayer in his hands.
Lord, please allow me the clarity to live on.
He screams into his palms and the sound is muffled but not from his heart.
X
Javier checks his watch. Orange leaves fall from branches, the trees barer than skeletons – November. The iron fence outside the cemetery is like steel in his back as he leans against it. Mourners in black Dior enter the churchyard as he stands outside, smoking cigarettes. He didn't know many of them as they were much older and maybe even wealthier considering the diamonds they wore on their hands and throats. His parents couldn't make it. They had their own problems going on even though they weren't as important.
He exhales smoke, looks around for the Blackwells. Bryn and Harper hadn't arrived which surprised him. They'd probably arrive late because they had such respect for their father and would never do anything to shame his name. He saw his parents' business partners sidle in, yakking about the Foster oil tycoon in hushed tones.
"Javier?"
The voice was sweet like bells. He wasn't surprised to hear it when he turns to find soft green eyes. He smiles and lowers his cigarette. "Tinsley." he drawls, tossing the bud as she manages a smile. Her dress was a flattering black, the sleeves draped, a sapphire at her throat, and her blonde strands in a low bun. "I'm not surprised to find you on these steps."
Not wanting to add a comment like this, she says deftly. "I'm actually more surprised to see you here." she quips, smoothing flyaways at her nape. "What are you doing here?"
He wasn't surprised at her question and knew when she saw him smirk. "I came to pay my respects to the Blackwells. Aren't you doing the same?"
The comment quiets Tinsley as she looks below to where many crowded around an open casket. A swarm of socialites arrive in respective silence. He was sure he saw the Hiltons. "I actually wanted to see how the other two were holding off."
This amused her. "You care for Harper and Bryn?"
"You would do the same," he answers vainly. "I care for them the same as you."
"I'm surprised to hear you say that, Javier," she murmurs. "You don't seem like the type to admit it."
He smiles as he lights another cigarette. "Claire told me the same thing earlier."
They both turn at hearing noise. The reverend was initiating a speech for the deceased. "It's beginning."
Tinsley frowns as she peers over her shoulder. Javier straightens his black tie and throws his cigarette. "No living Blackwell in sight."
She turns to Javier. "You don't think they skipped out, right?"
Javier shakes his head. "I'm sure she'll show up." He heads in, leaving behind Tinsley as he disappears into the crowd of grievers. She didn't see many she knew. Matt and Steven had been booked in a few shows last minute, Dean was busy, and Vena just wasn't invited which had to be the best thing since Claire beating her.
But she couldn't help but blink. "She'll?"
X
Harper stands in the vanity mirror of Bryn's room as he tugs his black tie, fiddling with a button on his shirt. He didn't bother to have his shirt pressed, seeing as he hadn't had time with all the drama. He slicks his fingers through his uncombed hair and turns to Bryn, where she was reclined away from reality. He knew she wasn't sleeping. "Bryn, come on," he cries, approaching and leaning on her bed to shake her. "It's Dad's funeral."
She whips around, eyes bloodshot in Ray Ban eyeglasses. The ones she always needed to wear in school but chose not to because of her contacts. The old frames slid down her nose. "Harper," she mutters. "I don't wanna …"
He felt for her. Just seeing the hurt in her eyes made him know she wasn't lying. As much as he didn't want to go himself they had to do this for Dad's sake. "Bryn," He sighs, grabbing her elbow and forcing her up. "I don't wanna go either but let's do this for Dad. He's been through our family drama and if he could, we could be there for him just once. Please?"
She nods and props her feet on the floor littered in CD cases and articles of leather. "Okay …" she says, adding a forced smile. "can I go in this?" She directs to her outfit: a zip hoodie with an obscene rock tee, jeans with rips in the thighs, and filthy Converse.
He didn't necessarily approve of her attire but didn't need any more riffs. "Sure," he replies sullenly, patting her shoulder before pulling her under his arm. "Don't worry, okay?"
She bobs her head and snatches a sweaty beer off her vanity, swishing around the inside. Harper didn't notice or maybe not care as they exited and dragged themselves down the stairs. She felt like she'd lose her footing any moment so was lucky for the arm Harper had over her.
Once he took his house keys, they went outside and looked ahead to see right across the street from their house was a funeral packed with people alike. The only cemetery available in this time of month.
Bryn raises her hood over her knots. "I can't believe we live right across from a cemetery. How creepy is that?"
X
Claire looks to Jackson in an impeccable navy suit. Masses of yellow roses surround his open casket. The queen sports a white blouse with ribbons in the collar, her favorite black skirt. Snaps her ankle boots in the dewed grass. Her minions whisper rumors and blather alike.
"Where are the Blackwell twins?"
"I think they're not coming. Bryn is skipping out to go to a Kings of Leon concert."
"Typical. And Harper's doing drugs with her band, right?"
"Of course!"
It took all Claire's might to not tell the girls to shove their lies up theirs.
"Look!" one of them cries, pointing ahead as Javier steps toward the casket, dropping a rose. He murmurs inaudibly before stepping back into the curious crowd. "Wow, I still can't believe he's here."
Claire nods to herself. "Me either." Wishing for Dean since he hadn't had a chance to be invited.
"What do you think he said?"
"I think he probably told him his daughter's a conniving bitch."
"No, no! I think her dad knew that. I think he said that his son is secretly doing lude!"
Claire scoffs at their accusations as she steps forward, settling a rose into the bed of flowers. He looked peaceful yet regret inked his face, saddened that he skipped out on the world so easily. Claire could only murmur a prayer before returning to her group.
"O-M-G! They're here!"
She saw Javier and Tinsley both stare back. Claire also turned, wondering why they all looked so confused.
From afar, Bryn and Harper approached as Bryn shook off the arm Harper had on her before clutching the bottle in a quivering fist. She wove into the crowd up to where Javier and Tinsley stood as she bit her lower lip, free of all color and gloss.
She said nothing as she threw her head back and drank.
"What is she drinking?" another murmurs.
"Beer, dumbass."
"Oh, Brynna's far too young."
"Hopefully, alcoholism doesn't run too deep in the family."
Javier turns to Bryn at seeing her expression. As if struck by lightning, her pallid face had no emotion and her complexion was dull. She looked almost different without her usual rock makeup – silver eyeliner, gunmetal eyeshadow, burgundy lipstick. It was as if seeing her in a carnival mirror.
He had to be a little considerate. "Bryn, I'm sorry."
She says nothing, her face doesn't contort as she takes another swig and coughs into the bottle.
His brows furrow. "You're not drunk, are you?"
Her gaze is finally in his, unintentionally. Eyes blank of spark. "No, I'm not."
Harper appears beside Tinsley, not even greeting her when he tucks his hands into his pockets, watching a colleague speak on about his favorite memories and deeds with Jackson. Circles thick under his eyes.
Tinsley turns to him with sad eyes at seeing his and Bryn's distraught faces. "I'm sorry,"
He didn't look at her and she wasn't surprised. Bryn sighs, placing her bottle on the grass before lifting her shirt to expose a glimpse of stomach and the outline of a scar that reached from her hipbone and up her ribcage, a simple rose tucked in her belt as she slid it out and trudged in. With trembling fingers, she dropped it, staring down his face with wide eyes.
He was dead.
He'd never wake up and never watch her graduate from high school, become a household name, get married –
He was gone.
Her body ached and her soul scorched. It might as well have been ripped from her.
Bryn shakes her head as tears came to her vision. She felt countless eyes on her as she looks over to Harper, mumbling only what he managed to catch.
"I can't do this …"
She needed to leave. She had to run.
So she did. The hood fell off her hair as she ran down the block and out of view. Harper groans and yanks on his hair before snatching the bottle off the grass. His knuckles were white and outstretched with veins.
"Shit!" he swore and Tinsley jumped to hear him. And though he didn't go after Bryn, he disappeared just as fast and bolted down the street and up the path to his house, looking on the verge of collapse.
Claire watched them break as she searches for Javier and Tinsley.
They were both gone after them. Just as fast as the two had run.
It had finally happened but it was good to know they still had people to care for them.
X
Javier looks down the streets, finding her not in the crowd as he searches around. Looking everywhere before he finally stops mid-step to see Bryn knelt with her head in her palms outside a church gate. He crouches beside her and holds her shoulder causing her to jump and stare.
Tears sluice her cheeks as she tries to wipe them furiously. "J-Javier?" she chokes, trying to dry the tears. She sounded so helpless and scared like a lost child. "W-What're you doing here?"
"Why are you crying?" he asks, instantly wanting to take it back. But she only sniffles and brushes away another waterfall of fresh tears.
"Because I don't know what to do." she sobs and shakes her head while Javier stares her down worriedly, looking like the perfectly concerned boyfriend. "You don't know what it feels like to lose someone. It burns."
Javier continues to stare, leaning over to kiss her when another tear stings her face but she evades him. Both movements were on impulse. "Don't cry, okay? I may not know what it's like to lose someone but if I were to lose you, I'm pretty sure I'd be in your situation."
"Please," she coughs and her bitterness has somewhat returned through tears. "you barely even know me!"
"You can never make a conflict easy, can you?"
"Well, sorry for not planning my dad's death!"
"God, can you just relax?" he demands and forces his hand under her chin as he brings her into his eyes. "People die, people move on. Get over it. Are you just going to spend all this time sobbing and mourning?"
"I can and I will." She didn't bother to shove away the continuing tears as if to prove a point. "Why don't we trade places and let's see what you –"
She didn't continue.
His mouth was on hers before she could.
X
Tinsley enters the Blackwell Mansion, feeling like an intruder when she enters with the keys in hand, which were left in the door. She locks the door and looks around for Harper. Was he okay? He had to be. Nothing would happen to him and they both knew he'd stay alive for Bryn.
"Harper?" she calls up to hear disturbing noises. She winces and hurries up to what she assumes is his room and fought the urge to cry when she saw his state.
He was on one knee and already sobbing into the hand that held his face. Glass under his shoes and alcohol trailed the wall in an amber stain. Tinsley rushes to him, feeling terrible to finally see him breaking. How helpless he looked in his current condition as he didn't even look up to see her, slamming his palm onto the glass. A shard of split wood splintered in the carpet, a carved stick of some sort.
"Harper," she whispers, reaching for him as he sobs. Her own eyes fill with tears. His head falls into her lap as he never pacifies for breath. Her manicured nails twine through his hair as she attempts to calm him. "Please, it'll be okay."
"I … I can't believe he's really gone!" he chokes as he shakes his hand, which was discoloring and ballooning from the injury inflicted from the glass. "I couldn't do anything! I don't have anyone anymore!"
Tinsley shakes her head and watches him. "Don't say that," she vows, cradling his bruised hand firmly. His tears began slowing as he wipes his face with a free hand, trembling in her arms. "you'll always have me, no matter what you go through. I'll always be here."
His sobbing weakens as he clenches bloodied knuckles. His sniveling fades within the next minutes before he slides from her, face slick with tears, hair mussed, and lower lip stinging from the pressure he had on it.
It was so nice to see him calming and reaching a stage of relaxation. Finally.
"Please don't leave."
Pushing all rumors, comments, and lies aside, she smiles and says –
"I won't ever."
X
This has been the saddest yet sweetest chapter I've written in a while. My take on character breakdowns isn't very good but I put as much emotion as I could. I really hope you all like this though.
In about a chapter or two the depressing saga should be done and we'll be back at a brighter storyline.
And for anyone I haven't replied to in PMing standards, I apologize but I've been looking through this chapter nearly all day and have been watching Sex and the City 2.
Another update should be soon!