[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/s5el74t.gif[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/rKLlkvt.png[/img][/center] [center][sub][i][color=a0410d]6:45 AM[/color][/i][/sub][/center] [color=a0410d]"I'm going to miss you so much. ...Fuck, I promised myself no tears. Damn it. I swear, my heart is your heart. Where I go, you go. If I had to I would take you to hell with me...but I told you, you can't come. No tears. We'll be together again soon."[/color] Aleks Belikov crouched reverently in front of the Lotus Elise, chewing with a heartached tenderness at the corner of his bottom lip. He ran his hand reverently across the sports car's hood before bringing his fingertips to his mouth and kissing it goodbye. The fingers his lips had touched patted the car's badge, safely nestled between the headlights. [color=a0410d]"I love you,"[/color] he promised. [color=a0410d]"I'll be back."[/color] Aleks sprung to his feet, lacing his fingers together behind his head and puffing his chest out in a large stretch, balanced precariously on the tiptoes of his running shoes. He'd spent a few hours at the garage where he'd parked his Lotus for the night; he trusted the owners implicitly to take care of her, careful to extract reassurances from all of them. She was in the rare black-and-gold Championship lineage, a couple years old and without the raw power of some of AJ's cars, but she was more than quick enough for the streets of Los Angeles, and beauty and grace were more than the equals of raw power anyway. He would go on the warpath if anyone ever sullied that car's dignity. Chris had tried to smoke in it more than once and had gotten an earful in such colorful Russian that you'd think a nuclear bombardment was imminent. But none of that mattered. She couldn't come. Instead they would all be sealed together in a couple enclosed spaces, like orange juice and styrofoam - a certain recipe for napalm. Well, if he had to stew in the clash of egos and hormones that would be their summer-long Flight of the fucking Valkyries, he would absolutely [i]need[/i] some alone time first. Preferably outside of a car. Who knew when he'd get a chance to run like this again. Just him-- [center][i][color=a0410d]You can dance for inspiration[/color][/i][/center] --his earbuds-- [center][i][color=a0410d]Come on, I'm waiting...[/color][/i][/center] --and his final LA morning until dot, dot, dot. He started to run, taking a long, deep breath of the air. It was cool out, and would still be cool for another hour and a half or so, right up until they all gathered in the parking lot of Beverly Hills High School. By ten, the parking lot would be drowned in a sea of luggage as everyone tried to figure out who was packing what where in their limited space available. Aleks was ahead of the curve in that regard; he'd been to see AJ the night before with what belongings and outfits he thought would be fun to wear and left them over at the Tyler house. He'd been invited to stay for dinner too, but had to graciously decline. The night had been young, and Aleks had still had a lot to do before they left. He felt the envelope of cash jostle underneath his lightweight jacket; he willed himself not to focus on it, just focus on Madonna. The beauty of her voice, the playful, flirty simplicity of her lyrics, the 80s as fuck beat... [i][color=a0410d]"Geeet into the groooove, boy, you've got to proooove your love to meeeee~"[/color][/i] Aleks tilted his head back, arching his shoulders, enjoying the fingers of the breeze along his cheeks and in his cocoa-colored hair in a forward motion that was half a sprint and half a ballet. He would miss Los Angeles. The people of Los Angeles connected with him in a way that self-serious London and New York hadn't, with their individualism and their vanity in equal measure - and [i]definitely[/i] their accents, which were easier on the ears by comparison to both his old homes. The idea of leaving wasn't stressful in itself, but the city had become his home, and...well, it would be a stretch to call it familiar. He doubted L.A. was familiar for [i]anyone,[/i] even those who spent their whole lives there. That seemed, to Aleks, like the whole point. [color=a0410d][i]There will be a Starbucks around the corner.[/i][/color] He had clocked it a few hours ago, after pulling the car into the garage. Aleks glided over the sidewalk and over the fencing around the outdoor seating, vaulting over it and finally slowing to a shuffle in front of the door. It seemed like he'd cut to the entrance in front of another runner, coming in from the opposite direction; his fingers slid across the door and held the door for him, letting the man walk in front of him as recompense. After all, he was still-- [center][sub][i][color=a0410d]7:20 AM[/color][/i][/sub][/center] Way early. Nobody was in a hurry. When it was his turn in line, Aleks turned on a megawatt smile and leaned forward, rapping his knuckles on the counter in front of the register while his eyes scanned the menu and his lips moved silently, recounting the orders he'd memorized. [color=a0410d]"Venti iced coconut milk latte--" [i]ChloƩ.[/i] "A venti caramel frappe, extra caramel, with the whipped cream." [i]Reyna.[/i] "Another venti latte, soy..." [i]AJ.[/i] "--and a venti iced white mocha, lots of whipped cream. And that'll be it." [i]Aleks.[/i] "Oh. And, ah."[/color] Aleks tilted over to the food selection, picking up a chilled fruit salad and one of the dark chocolate bars in front of the register. [color=a0410d]"And [i]that'll[/i] be it."[/color] His eyes found the barista's and his smile grew wider, even though he was wincing internally. As much as he had an ear for accents, his own infuriated him the most. He'd been working on it over the four years he'd lived in America, and even though he'd never seen his mother country, it was hard to shake the accent that you grew up with in your home. His childhood in England had taken its toll, too, and the more Aleks talked the more painfully aware he was that his accent had become a sort of Russian-influenced British creole. Smoky, mysterious, James Bond-ish, "basically like listening to sex during group project presentations" if you listened to AJ or ChloƩ. He noticed the imperfections, though. It made him want to cringe. "Name for the order?" [color=a0410d]"Um, Aleks. Thanks."[/color] He paid for the order and drifted over to pick up straws for the quartet of drinks, singing Madonna under his breath right up until it was time to collect the coffee. On his way out the door, he thought, idly, to take a peek at the label on his iced mocha. [center][h3][url=https://cdn.imgbin.com/17/19/18/imgbin-tokyo-ghoul-re-manga-anime-desktop-tokyo-ghoul-jK0BCRVL1S7bVxDQLuN7zK13s.jpg]ALEX[/url][/h3][/center] [color=a0410d]"They'll be spelling it like that all fucking summer,"[/color] he cursed under his breath to himself as he continued his run to the high school. Aleks wasn't hard to get right, considering his noticeable accent and the endless permutations of every single fucking name in America. His last boyfriend's name was Chasten, for Christ's sake. What fucking name was that. [color=a0410d]"I'm going to see more Xes than I did at prom."[/color] He started to jog faster, as if those exes might still be after him. [hr] [color=a0410d][center][i][sub]7:52 AM[/sub][/i][/center] [i]Oh, he's early. Cool.[/i][/color] [color=ff4500]"Cosmosssssss! You ready? I hope no one bails, it's not often my dad let's me take this beast out."[/color] [color=a0410d]"I cannot imagine anyone will bail."[/color] Aleks joined his two index fingers and thumbs together into a makeshift camera lens, zooming in on AJ and miming camera clicks with his teeth. A coquettish smile grew across the Russian's face as his subject kept zooming in closer towards him. [color=a0410d]"I mean, it's a piece of history. The [i]original[/i] meth lab from Breaking Bad. Who would want to watch it on Netflix when they can fuck and get drunk in the real thing?"[/color] AJ made a face and stepped closer to him to get his latte; Aleks took the opportunity to break his imaginary camera lens and ruffle AJ's thick, unruly hair, closing the distance between them for an affectionate greeting. His gaze, though, had already drifted back to the RV. [color=a0410d]"Huh."[/color] he mused to himself quietly, before adding: [color=a0410d]"You get any sleep?"[/color]