Javier didn't like Bryn Blackwell. He completely hated her.
Living with her that is.
His room is only across from hers and deciding to respect Claire's wishes for once he hasn't been bringing girls upstairs and Bryn's been avoiding him every minute since their almost-hookup. And he's not hating her for that but how her living habits are. Which make him glad they're not together sharing a suite because he can't stand her lifestyle.
Every morning she rushes to the bathroom, uses up all the hot water, and sings something vulgar as a brute wake-up call. Around the afternoon, she locks herself in her room and blasts either T-Rex or Stone Temple Pilots depending on the hour. Steven says she writes lyrics around that time and he'd believe it because when he gets back to his room each evening there's a hill of crumpled paper outside her door.
And later when everyone's at the table for dinner, she's not there. No one's surprised but him.
He's smoking on the deck when he sees her sitting by the kitchen counter, eating cold pizza and ticking a pen along the marble top.
Then around midnight he's finally ready to confront her for avoiding him and basically everyone else and only talking to Kenny through her stay but when he gets to her room, finding the door unlocked he sees her sleeping. The television rerunning Mad Men and her fingers curled around the pillow in a vise grip. And through her rock exterior and ruthless heart, he actually found her normal and chose not to rip the pillow from under her head.
He reconsidered his motives when she sang Slipknot in the shower the next morning.
It was almost like she was trying to get rid of him.
Which wouldn't surprise him because her attempt at losing Claire came close to succeeding until Dean convinced her to stay before she managed to pack and flee with her dignity.
She could do anything possible to try to force him out – but he wouldn't be going anywhere.
You wonder why?
Well, let's just say, he's always five steps ahead.
X
Bryn puts an ear to the inside of her door and listens out to check if Javier was still out there. She hears his voice through the oak and shakes her head, bolting over to her stereo and turning the knob and raising the volume of the fiercest Iggy Pop song she knows. The room reverberating in his hollowly voice. She's been blasting her music for hours and he just doesn't seem to leave. He definitely has to have brain damage to not be bothered by any of this. Or earplugs.
She basically camped out in the room already and would've considered it her own, if it wasn't for the view and lame curtains. Her lyrics and paper were already scattered across the floor and bed, posters of the British band, Bush, and her Gibson were among the mess. But it was already coming close to being home and she'd love it more if Javier wasn't across.
Absolutely nothing would get rid of him. Not wasting the water, not her music or singing, not her eating habits, and not even when she spilled black coffee on his shirt.
What could she do?
Within her thought train, her phones chirps the bars of 'Here Comes The Sun.' She finds Kenny's name on the screen since he's basically been her rebound through the trip and snatches her phone before hopping on her bed and answering the call.
"I'm miserable without you," she jokes and hears his chuckle. Her face warms. "Honestly! I've been trying to get rid of Javier and he just won't leave. He's seriously like the Axl Rose of my life. He reappears and disappears like every second ... with – with –"
"An Appetite for Destruction?" he counters and she hears a chair scrape across hardwood. "Relax. It's only for a while longer. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in Shithattan with a black guitar I have no idea how to play. Oh, the irony! How I wish I can climb your balcony and serenade you in the lamest of Disney songs!"
"I don't have a balcony."
"Don't kill my fantasy, please."
"Use Your Illusion, babe."
"One and two, you know it."
She bursts out laughing and is unable to stop especially when he joins in. His starts off more surprised as she clutches at her stomach and falls back against the tangled sheets. Tears arrive in her eyes at the entirety. His chuckles die to little exhales as she continues on for a few moments, panting and wiping tears from her face, smearing her gunmetal eyeshadow.
"That was so not funny." she breathes and restrains another fit of laughter.
"Apparently, it was, if you died halfway through." His voice statics and she shifts the phone to her other ear. She never wanted to head back to New York so fast to spend time with a guy in so long. Someone who could actually understand her and share her passion for all things rock and who even made references to famous albums without insulting her rebellious style.
She was getting too attached.
Let the strings break and let her heart not follow was what her mind told her telltale heart.
But she kept her mouth shut and thoughts private and let him strike up a conversation about L.A. Guns and Nitro. By far, the two bands she hated most. Although she did, she enjoyed hearing him because he allowed her the same right without trouble.
Because he'd actually let her speak her honest mind and despite Javier saving her those times with Vena and her close suicide she couldn't help but notice his hesitance. Reluctance. He drew her close yet threw her far every time she attempted to approach even with the littlest of gesture. She didn't have the time – the mind of patience.
He'd move on and so would she.
"Um, Kenny?" she calls to hear the awkwardness of her voice ring like a siren.
"Yes?"
"When I – I get back." she begins and gnaws deep on her bottom lip, secretly hoping for it to bust and draw blood so she could have a reason to hang up. "Do you think we can just seriously talk when I get back? As in, seriously?"
There's complete silence on his end. So much, she thinks she's overstepped her boundaries and lost him. The quiet swims on as she rights herself and lets a hand linger on the doorknob, feeling her eyes dampen. The sting pierces like an infected bug bite.
She twists the knob and opens the door. "Ken –"
"Sure."
"What?"
"Yeah. Fine. Sure." And he's completely sure, readied. So much he's joking about the importance. "When you get back we'll have the talk you oh-so-long and I think we'll need it because I need to get something into your head as well."
She gapes and her knees come close to buckling as she can't even hide her current smile. Her mouth quirking along. "Cool." She laughs and throws her head back, dark shag tickling the nape of her neck as she hears his grunt. "Talk to you about more albums later?"
"Let's never forget the all-too-insane Spaghetti Incident."
She giggles and ends the call, then finally hits the base of reality.
Javier leans against his door. His expression seemingly betrayed, mouth tight and hands tucked in his pockets. He nears emotionless, impassive. Her heart twinges but not enough to make her apologize. He did still owe her for the pep talk she offered when he finally gave on Vena.
They watch one another for the fewest moments before the hard exterior reenters her.
Let him hurt, it says. Not just says – demands. Like she's the soldier in the war between her heart and mind, listening and fighting as it commands her to.
She follows instruction without hesitation. Narrows her eyes, lets her smile fall, and heads off down the hall with an electrifying jolt in her chest, as if it was what tamed and ruled over her with the rights of a master and the weapons to do so.
She walks as if a gun was at her temple, the cold barrel with bullets that could easily crumble her skull and end her life. As such was done, the bullet wounds in her thawed and the once-permanent bruises along her melted and vanished into a steady head. A clean mind.
And she didn't bother to check if he was still there. Watching.
Because she was a new Bryn. One that would never pool in regret again.
Maybe just drown.
X
Floria and Tinsley sit at the dining table. It wasn't dinner nor were they eating but due to the space and calm air, it seemed like the best place to vent. The room was quiet enough that Floria actually suspected recorders to somehow be hidden beneath the table or under the couch cushions as if they were being filmed in secret.
"Do … do you think Harper will be okay?" Tinsley asks out of the blue. "I mean, he hasn't been talking to me since I was unsure of my feelings and I'm worried." She fixes her gaze on the diamond-patterned carpet. "Especially since he doesn't come down and I only see him leave with the guys and that's when I can't talk to him."
Luckily, she'd be able to help Tinsley in the weakest way. She had dated Harper for about a week or two and knew of his antics. He was too emotional for her and she was surprised they had even lasted as long as they did. She's never been so grateful to Bryn for breaking them up.
Now, Harper and Tinsley had their sights set on each other. It was a chain reaction.
They'd both blow in the end.
But she wasn't Bryn and chose to show a tad support. "Harper's pretty emotional," she advises, mouth twitching as she feigns a smile. "you get used to him, though. Sometimes, you just need to approach him and force a conversation. Get through his head and tell him what you want."
Tinsley smiles but her mouth also twitches with what – fear? Restraint? Hesitation? "Okay," she gives in and breathes as if that's what's keeping her from fainting. "thanks for the advice, Floria. It's healthy and liable enough against Harper at least."
She never thought or really wanted to hear a thanks from Tinsley after she saw Matt run after their kiss. She couldn't help but feel upset over Tinsley for being the glacier wall. Which was uncrackable and oblivious to what it does but it's not like she meant to do it so she was becoming neutral around her. At least, she didn't bruise and abuse Harper's feeling like Claire once did.
Despite Harper annoying the living hate out of her most of the time, she still thinks he deserved some consideration.
Tinsley would be perfect to do so.
"Wish you luck," is all Floria says and with a small smile, she shoos Tinsley off. "Now, go, bust down the door and get your, um, man back." But she's still smiling and her mouth loses the awkwardness. "I think you'll need all the luck you can get."
Tinsley grins and laughs as she skips out of her seat and runs up the stairs. She wouldn't be surprised if she actually went to break down the door considering the state of the window and the people who caused it.
And the crack of the door makes her actually believe she did so but then she sees Matt – she didn't consider him Stradlin anymore. No one called him that. He arrives with a cigarette in his mouth and dressed in green plaid. No one did respect Claire's rules of smoking inside and who would really want to?
He blinks at her and reaches into his pocket and offers her a cigarette, probably as a peace offering.
She does what's right and shakes her curls before scraping back her chair and heading out the front to the store. She couldn't look at him the same without being reminded of his touch, his musky scent, and his mouth on hers.
She had to do what was right. No matter how much she hated to.
X
"Steven, can we talk?"
"Sure. Want me to braid your hair, too?"
Javier's eyes narrow as he approaches Steven in the basement, which is cluttered to no end with storage boxes and dust. He, however, seems content upon a lengthy box with a snare drum in his lap, empty soda bottles at his feet, and drumsticks in hand as he practices tiny strokes. Though he really doesn't have much interest in music, he can't help but admit Steven's good despite having ingested everything in the span of months.
Steven (Adler?) doesn't seem the slightest mad as he snaps his drumsticks together. "What about, man? Make it quick. I have an album to learn."
He's selfish, completely. He shifts his gaze from the drum to Steven's wondering face. "I don't usually care but Bryn's been avoiding me. I think she's trying to get rid of me by making it all too obvious."
"Yeah, she wasted the water," he adds and spins a stick. "should've punched her in the throat."
"That wasn't what got me mad." he admits to receive a look of disbelief. "It's just ... she's – ugh, I don't know. Annoying, that's it. She's annoying."
"Man," Steven shakes his head. "you're in. You are whipped hard."
"That sounds so wrong."
"Well, it's supposed to."
He returns to his drumsticks and attempts the beat of a familiar Adele song. Javier's mouth curls and he raises an eyebrow.
"Steven?"
"Go to Bryn."
"Wait, what?"
"Go. To. Bryn." He breaks the words and spins a stick again, pointing it to the door and stairs. "I'm allowing you. It's not that I could stop you, anyway. Just tell her what you told me. Ask her why she's acting like a bitch. It'll set her off. Just don't make a total ass of yourself."
"And how will I do that?"
"Make an ass of yourself?"
His eyes narrow. Deep, solemn greens. "Talk to her. She's been M.I.A."
Steven blinks, trying for good advice seeing as he was never a pro at following it himself. But seeing as his old advice came from fortune cookies, it was an improvement. "I'm sure you'll figure all out."
Well, he got that from a fortune but it still applies.
X
"It seems like no one ever swam in that pool other than Steven." Dean smiles and turns to Claire as she's reclined on a beach chair, wearing wayfarers and a sheer coverup over her bikini. She wasn't going to swim anytime soon because the pool still had to be quarantined since that thing jumped in and poisoned the water with Brooklyn germs.
She lowers her frames and scowls. "Remind me to have it detoxed later."
Dean laughs, it's innocent. Harmless like a hummingbird. "He's not so bad just because he's not from Manhattan."
"No, he's just terrible." She lifts the shades back over her eyes and they tint when catching the daylight coming from a close window. "Especially from the lowest scum of New York – no, the world."
"If you mean Brooklyn I'm from there, too." His tone isn't mad but stern and disapproving like a father figure. She looks back and feels a tad shamed when she sees the change in his face. She wouldn't exactly mean to be cruel to him. Brooklyn or not. "Is it such a bad thing to be from there?"
Yes. "No!" She's even surprised at how appalled she sounds. "Not you because there's such a difference between you and him in more ways than one."
"Really?"
"Really!"
Dean chuckles and pushes her arm – she hates it because it's a Harper-gesture and he does that to the lacrosse guys and the girls like Bryn's redhead friend. It's basic guy-code for staying friends. "Relax, I'm kidding. You're always so tense."
She tries to seem strong and willful but a flush destroys her. "No. Not always."
"Then, you'll have to show me that side of her." he advises and raises an eyebrow, dipping his feet in the water and sighing. He needed some distraction and he holds his breath, wanting suddenly to dive in and disappear. "The entertaining."
"Oh," She sounds different. Becoming Scarlett from Gone with the Wind or The Girl in The Seven Year Itch. The breathless, Jean Harlow-esque voice complimented her. "well, I'll show you entertaining."
He expects what comes as he hears her approach and turns for her eyes. He found her mouth instead as it reaches his. Honey lips and acidy tongue. He barely knows the physics of kissing since the only kiss he ever had was from a drunk girl in a game of Spin the Bottle and it's not something you study. He does what he sees in movies with his sister and leans in, sliding his hands in her hair and closing his eyes.
Claire smirks and lets a hand linger on his throat. Not stopping for thoughts and thinking on impulse.
How's that for entertaining?
X
The playlist of Britney Spears is on and Bryn only stays for the sake of her emotional brother because in different standards, she'd smash the television once Britney appeared in a top hat and would suffocate Harper with the damn thing if he ever made her go through this again.
"Yawn." She stretches her arms in exaggeration and steals the remote, jumping when he attempts to retrieve it. She changes the channel and finds a No Doubt music marathon. "Quit the glare. You're lucky I'm even here."
"Whatever." He watches Gwen Stefani toss her hairdryer in her boyfriend's bathtub, electrocuting him. "What do I do, Bryn?" She's alarmed at the question and drops the remote, turning to him with wide eyes and a smudged burgundy pout. "I just want everything to be normal again."
"First of all," She stomps her boots and they grow heavy with awkward air as she looks to Harper. "hate to be the bitch of bad news but it'll never happen. Life sucks but you learn to deal."
Harper smiles poisonously. "Good words of wisdom."
She rolls her eyes. "Aren't they?" She looks out the window and watches the amber sun sink and the sky blacken just when she wants to leave. Everyone else was supposed to leave tomorrow in Claire's car on a school day, early in the morning. She was feeling indifferent, caged through her stay. She looks back over Harper and sees him touch his knee, a deep purple bruising inks the skin. It looked like he'd bludgeoned himself with a metal bat. "Hey, bro. What's that?"
He blinks and follows her gaze, straightening his leg out and massaging around the bruise. "I have no idea." Bryn steps in and stares, an eyebrow arched. "It appeared out of nowhere after I fell on the field in lacrosse. Probably just some bruise."
"It doesn't look like 'some bruise.'" He rolls his eyes. "I'm serious. Get that checked out. Go to Dr. Wilson, get ice or something just –" Brutal knuckles rap on the door and she looks to. "we'll talk about this later." She goes to answer the door and opens it a peek, talking quietly and sharing a laugh. "I'll be leaving, Brother Blackwell."
She sneaks out and he's ready to scream back for her but already finds her gone and before he has chance to go after her, he finds a long blonde mane, stern pine eyes, a twisted pink pout –
"Tinsley." His mood is immediately sour. "Hi."
X
meet me on the equinox – or in our case the jitney stop by that horrid bar 2nite
The sky is full dark to the point it's almost overshadowing the moon. She checks the time on her Blackberry and finds 6 AM. She had time. Since checking the routes and stops for the Jitney, she'd take the last to leave him anxious. As if, her leather pants didn't do that enough.
She shoves in clothes and lyrical papers and rock posters. She still had an unmade bed, folds of extra clothes, and a guitar she obviously couldn't stuff in a suitcase. She deposits two lighters and shuts the suitcase after it nearly overflows. It clicks with locks and she lugs it onto the bed, begins to search the closet for her jacket.
She hums Radiohead's 'Lotus Flower' and stomps her boots as she prepares her belongings. Hard knuckles bang on her door and she scowls. Why does someone finally choose to bother her when she's busy? She ignores the knock and it returns loudly, so much so she could hear an echo.
"I'm busy!" she screams and takes her CD out of the stereo. The silence is stilling and she turns back to her bag, beginning to search for her gig bag. The knob twists and her door slams. She curses and turns in annoyance. "I said I'm –" oh god.
Javier stands in her room, brows furrow. "Well, hello to you, too." He approaches and eyes her suitcase, the clothing and paper on the floorboards, and the jacket in her knuckles. "Are you leaving for Kenneth? You're pleasing no one but yourself if you hadn't realized."
She scoffs and tastes a dry throat. She really needed to pack emergency cigarettes. Her survival kit for smoking while away that held Camels, Zippos, and other necessities.
But she doesn't deny the accusation. She knows best. Then, drags her suitcase onto the baseboards. "I would've definitely rethought myself if I knew you mattered." She throws a band-tee over her shoulder into another bag with feign enthusiasm. "Oh, curse me to hell!"
"You're right. Some straight-thinking past all those drugs and losers would do you good."
The drug insult hit further from her heart. "You calling my friends losers?"
"Not at all. Because I happen to know them and it was more directed to Kenneth seeing as he's the only one I know."
"Since you used the plural, I'm guessing you're also included." Her eyes narrow and the talk is no longer safe in profanity nor nature. "Now, I'd suggest not calling Kenny a loser again unless you want your neck wrung faster than Courtney Love's career."
He strides and she sees the disbelief of her threat in him. "I'd love to see you try."
"Don't think I won't pull it off."
"Like, you'd be able to."
Her guitar hits the mattress and squeaks. She turns her back and busies herself with her Gibson. An asshole, a complete and total dick is what he is. She can't believe she was ever in love with him. Ugh, their relationship would easily be shot to hell if they ever –
She hears him chuckle and turns back. He's smirking and it's not good. It's sick like snake venom. "You were in love with me?" Her throat is caught. She was speaking her thoughts. "Please. I think you're right. We can't be together. It'd be hell. If you think I hate Vena, you have no idea what I feel for you."
No words, no vulgar, dead silence. He waits for the worst because she deserves what he had to go through with Vena. When he had attempted to admit his love, she had shut him down, finger to lip with not even a thought of apology, only staying in their relationship for mesmerizing sex not love. That's what made it last. That's what makes them all work.
Breath, breath, shuffle, clomp. His face enflames strongly. She hit him and he's not hurt but is in shock and doesn't have a suitable reflex but the mere hand-to-face.
More pause. She takes her suitcase and jacket, leaves her guitar, and slams out the door.
He sighs and tries to sooth the burn. He had done exactly what Steven told him not to.
X
"Talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about."
Tinsley is unamused at Harper's poker face and monotone responses. She's furious but not to the point of boiling as Harper stares her in the face, no mouth quirk or eyebrow twitch. His eyes are black like hot coals and are so unusual without their light. They're only staring her down, even when she wills to move from the doorpost to him.
"Harper, come on. I know you heard me in the car." He looks close to words before going blank and shifting, scratching his neck. "Javier caught me off-guard. I do still love you. I swear on it. The truth is –" She switches between feet and submerges through emotional smog. "no one ever really asked me about it. Involving any guy I had feelings for. It's complicated but true." Blinks and an eyebrow slant. "I hope you understand."
Nail biting, face contorting, frantic gaze. That's all she really gets as response until he gnaws his thumbnail and meets her eyes. "Is that all?"
Of course, he'd do this. She sighs and retreats back for the door. "I guess so." She opens the door and –
"Good. Because I forgive you."
"What?" The knob is suddenly icy in her hand and her fingers clam and curl on reflex. "What?"
He can't help but admire her choice of wording. "I forgive you. I do." She shuts the door and listens further, taking little steps as if in a landmine heaped with dynamite. "I was never really mad in the first place. More shock, really." He smiles, it's the tiniest bit timid. "I don't get mad to a serious point. Unless, it's something Bryn does and I won't get into any details. But I am fortunate, whether that's the correct wording."
"Why?" She can't help but keep cautious as she closes her sweating palms. They're shaking mad.
"Because of it all. Everything you wouldn't dare believe." he vows and she steps right before him. He stands and even with the slightest trouble from his knee. He is upright and caressing her face with warm fingers like the touch of a child. He leans and brings his mouth to hers, gentle and delectable like melting chocolate.
"Wait –" She cuts off and stares with narrow eyes, almost nothing compared to the intimidating blues Bryn had. "Does this mean we're dating now?" And with rocketed emotion, she's shot out of reality.
His chuckle brings her back and he doesn't reach for her to prove a point. "Yeah, so go update your Facebook." Then, they're kissing on the borderline of reality. No matter how cliché.
And peeking through the door is a watching Claire – curled lip and dark furrow brows, who has become the complete cliché.
X
Just after witnessing the Tinsley/Harper makeup/make-out, she shuts the door and her nose wrinkles at a stench. The halls stink of cigarettes and she's just about to go chide Bryn until she hears a rasp and it's most certainly not one she knows.
"Expect that a lot." She turns and sees a rugged shag, define cheekbones and arched eyebrows, cigarette in mouth and the ending cherry radiating in the low lights like a red bulb hanging off a Christmas tree. "The kissing? The almost-but-never-sex? Trust me. I know things especially when involving them."
Mason? Marco? Maxwell? – "Matthew." she manages and he gives nothing but a responsive chin tilt. "How do you … what do you know?"
"Enough and also that you just did Dean a few rooms down." He drags and she seethes, watching smoke form and disperse like steam. "They're too fairytale for me. You know? Royal, godawful, Will-and-Kate-perfect. I hate it. I hate perfection."
How could he just open up to her? They never even spoke or looked at each other or even shared casual smiles through school halls. Yet he was here, dropping the bottle and spilling all opinions and thoughts to her like they were the closest of friends. It was unimaginable but she finds herself tightening her robe sash and sauntering in as he twirls his cigarette.
"I know. As much as I try to be perfect I can never. I'm always second-rate to Tinsley." She claws fingers through her hair and causes tangles she couldn't care to comb and polish. "Yet she could do the most heinous and Harper will still take a bullet for her. It makes me want to vomit."
"Right?" He returns the cigarette to his mouth and inhales. "I'd take a bullet, like, in the arm or something. They're annoying together. It's like a Full House episode – you know, happy-drama-happy. Fucking retarded."
"Because not everyone can do as they can!"
"If you only knew how much it pissed me off."
She fans her palm around the smoke. "No, I understand! I see them as some couple who'll grow old together and have thousands of kids! It's so cliché! Stupid! The day they breakup and divorce like my parents will be the time of my life!" She hadn't realized she was yelling until she's lacking breath and he's stubbing the cigarette. "My parents are divorcing, at least I presume. It's terrible and I'm just a dead-weight to them, hurting with morbid loss."
Matthew knots his fists and straightens up. "Bryn and Harper's divorced when they were barely teens. Steven's disowned him –" He sighs and elaborates by mussing his hair badly to mime him. "and mine divorced after my eighth birthday. Now, they only team up when I'm in trouble. If your parents do divorce, I'm sure you'll be fine because if I can live on so can you. Believe it or not, it's not as bad as you think." He searches his pockets and finds a handful of tissues, shoves them in her palm. "Take them. You look like the devil woman."
She touches her face and finds her cheeks wet and eyes the tissue wads before blotting her face, forcing a laugh when she sees the mascara smears and his smirk. "You know, this doesn't exactly make us friends."
"Good." he voices, the rasp seemingly light. "Because I prefer strangers." His smirk fades and he heads for the stairs. Her focus is on his leather-clad back entirely and she chokes on her words.
It would never happen again. She was sure of it. "Thank you."
He doesn't allow her much. Only the backhanded wave all guys give but for once she can accept it to some extent.
Because it means friends.
X
When Floria returns to her room later in the evening, Bryn's guitar is at her door with a note.
Im gone I couldn't take it. bring this back for me pls
- BB
It wasn't Bryn's writing.
She takes the guitar by the neck and groans. It was heavy and she was always surprised how Bryn carried it everywhere when she's half her size. Her bass wasn't as worse and she delivers it into her room and stands it on a chair's legs, having respect despite Bryn's missing presence.
Why'd she have to go? Did one of the guys do something? Her temper always goes short when with so many guys. She should've been there for her instead of running from Matt after that blowing tongue kiss, her fingers in his hair and on his jaw, his seeking down her shirt and hers – ugh. It was all awkward.
Maybe Javier did something. She did mention something of the sort earlier but dismissed the thought like the forgotten of the world. If she prodded her more, she would've probably gave, prodding and cheap champagne always make magic.
Her sigh breaks the tense and she stares at the floorboard grain until her eyes tire. She should've been a better friend. Good friend skills could've saved a lot of conflicts. They could've redone so much wrong.
Three straight knocks on her doorpost. "Flor?"
She rolls her eyes and her shoulders slouch in exaggeration. "Yes?" She looks and meets Steven's eyes. He holds drumsticks and has a wool blanket on his shoulders like he just woke from a nap. "Oh, sorry, Steven. I'm tense bad, on-the-wrong-side-of-Tommy-Lee's-bed tense."
"Oh." His eyes widen and he clamps his forehead. "That's bad." He strays in the doorframe. "we're all downstairs with a bonfire except Bryn. She ditched. Why don't you come? Me and Matt are talking about the misadventures of Kanye Mess."
"Maybe later. I might rest." It's not that she was still upset over the kiss but she did need some anxiety-free sleep. "Just toast me some marshmallows."
"Will do." He leaves and she's glad he doesn't linger. He has some brains. She listens until he clonks down the stairs, then slams and locks her door. Throws herself back on the bed and dials Bryn to distract herself. Not even a ring before she's sent to voicemail. She rolls her eyes and groans into her pillows.
So much for an 'anxiety-free' rest.
X
On the private beach outside Claire's is a bonfire, crackling with blackened lumber and grey plumes. The midnight waves crash from afar and withdraw in. The wind isn't exactly strong but they all have blankets with the exclusion of Javier, who dons a coat and blazer. Steven holds a bag of marshmallows and has one on a stick as he toasts it over the fire. Ever the traditionalist.
Claire draws back and observes. "That's going to taste terrible."
Tinsley and Harper hold hands, fingers not once twitching or bothered with the heat from one another. "It's actually pretty good," he adds and has a blanket over his legs. "you'd be surprised."
Steven snorts and the marshmallow browns. "Were you a Boy Scout or something?"
"God, no." Harper rolls his eyes and Tinsley laughs, caressing his arm as Claire seats by Dean on another blanket. "I made it in my own kitchen and almost started a fire in the microwave. It made one hell of a mess."
Dean smiles and leans in with interest. "How old were you? Seriously. Nine? Ten?"
"Seventeen. It was last week." He shares laughs with Claire, Dean, and Tinsley. "Can you blame me? It looked fun."
Javier watches with a smirk and feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and sees Matt gesturing at Steven, who is oblivious when toasting his marshmallow. "Look at him. That marshmallow is going to fall in the fire in about five sec – " The fluff sinks into the fire and drowns in the flames. Steven swears and Matt chuckles. "told you."
"Yeah, smart ass?" Steven demands and throws Matt the marshmallows and his stick. "Let's see how you do it!"
"Alright." Matt spears two on the stick and raises it over the fire. "When I succeed, you owe me lunch money."
"Deal!" Javier rolls his eyes and steals a marshmallow, shoving it in his mouth.
He looks around and observes the waves crashing on the sand, the white glowing half-moon, the sprinkle of stars. He investigates everything but his thoughts.
Bryn needed to be the farthest from his mind.
Too bad she wasn't.
X
i've been texting you all day say something! your freaking me out
did those bastards do something? i swear come on …...
i'll wait for the last jitney just answer your fuckin phone!
"No answer?"
Kenny groans and shoots back his gin. "No answer." Frankie sits with him at the bar close to the Jitney stop in Brooklyn Heights. It is horrid with paper napkins and bowls of cigarette buds but he chooses to wait only for Bryn's whereabouts. Luckily, he doesn't have to force a fake American voice around her and is able to talk normally. Something he would've never hoped to become accustomed to. "I'm not at all surprised that the bastard did something to her. She said he was bothering her, if only I listened."
"It's not your fault, man. Keep calm." She swigs scotch because the bartenders don't seem to care she's underage. Probably the only perk of this bar. "She's probably trying to keep you anxious with the last ride. I know I would." She laughs but he doesn't join. He glares strongly and demands a refill. "Dude."
"I'm upset, Frank. I should've been there." He downs his gin in one gulp as she sighs and shakes her head, careful to keep him sober. "Who knows where she is? She may even be lost and no one is there for her. It's morbid, Frankie! Horrid!"
He catches attention and she shushes him, shooing off prodding eyes. "As much as the Brit screaming and rhyming in the middle of a shitty bar fascinates me, calm yourself. Bryn probably just lost phone connection on the Jit-thing. Seriously, don't take it all to heart." He checks his phone for any messages or calls but finds none. "She'll probably call in a few."
"I hope. Honestly, I do." she continues when he doesn't speak and stares into her scotch, wishing she could be one of those people that could break glass with their minds. "But even if you knew Bryn for a little I'm pretty sure she'll just allow you something. She's no bitch."
She glad when she sees part of a smile. "Thanks." His phone chimes and he jumps for it, noticing a new message.
i'm here at the jit stop come and hurry its raining
He's out the door before he hears lightning scream and receives an onslaught of drizzle, flattening his hair in thick mats. Kenny looks all around, sees girls holding newspaper overheads and running for shelter, young boys and girls stomping in the puddles and splashing in clonking yellow boots, and a girl – the only he knows wouldn't wear anything but leather in a storm.
"Bryn!" he calls and his accent traces along. She looks and meets his eyes, hers smeared with navy eyeliner and distress. He races over and puts a hand on her raven shag, almost expecting to find a hand fully stained with ink afterward. She snuffles and grabs his arm for stability. "What happened? Are you alright? I've been –"
"Javier's a complete asshole." She drags her words in chains, breaking them yet fixating them in strength. Her dark eye makeup mixed with tears, not even her mouth had usual cherry shade. "I hate him. I hate him. If you only knew what he's done, Kenneth. If you only knew what that bastard has done." Her eyes widen and glimmer with delirium. "I want to make him suffer."
"You will. I'll help you." he promises only to calm her. Doing his best to ease her. "How will we? How can we begin?"
"Kiss me." she demands in a howl, gritting teeth and breathing low. "Kiss me like you've never kissed another love before! Kiss me now."
He doesn't even bother hesitating.
He puts his mouth on hers with slow urgency, savoring their time and not allowing any vulgar or force seeing the caution in their situation. They were no Holly and Paul. They were no fairytale.
No fairytale could compare to them.