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[/b][/h3][/sup][/color][/row][row][cell][sup][h2][color=black]CONNOR SANGSTER[/color][/h2][/sup]
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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]act one: way down we go[/b][/color][/sup][indent][sup][color=a9a9a9]his house down the street [color=black]▸[/color] p. johnson's[/color][/sup][/indent][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/970459343667494932/unknown.png[/img][/center][sub][color=#2e2c2c]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color][/sub][/cell][cell][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/967592442486460476/unknown.png[/img][/center]
[indent][color=dcdcdc][sub]Saccade, then the stir of legs. The man rose from bed on the covers, in a bathrobe and athletic shorts, glancing out the glass doors that reflected dainty bokeh lights of the clean suburban street. It drizzled cold tears and bloomed petals on a silver April afternoon. A mug of coffee steamed on the bedstand, and the bathroom steamed from a recent shower. Connor Sangster lathered lotion on his neck and face, grimacing at the mirror as he was helplessly ironing out wrinkles and laugh lines. He declared, [color=000000][b]"I get this feeling as if I've been doing the same things since high school, except the results become more worse than I last remember."[/b][/color]

[color=000000][b]"That's aging, dear,"[/b][/color] his wife Karen walked out of the closet, fiddling with an earring, [color=000000][b]"or adulting, as they say these days. Drink more water, get more sleep, accomplish more feats, and you'll be fine again, you'll be feeling right as rain..."[/b][/color] She looked out the gloomy windows with a face of tested patience.  

He squinted at his phone. A notification! Which hit first, serotonin or dopamine, he could not tell but he was taken aback smiling. So he wasn't forgotten in this age, faded to obscurity as he feared. On Facebook - [color=000000][b]"oh my god Jack Wilkerson"[/b][/color] Connor glanced at his wife who left the room busily - posted actively in the 'Ritman High Class of 2015' group. [ [sub][i]Who wants to come down and watch ur childhood get hit with a wrecking ball? Booze will be involved[/i][/sub] ] with a hyperlink to an article reading '[i][b]Capital Construction to demolish former Delton high school building[/b][/i]'. He recoiled a bit, [color=000000][b]"That's surprising. Weren't you the girl with no fucks to give?"[/b][/color] Guess he shouldn't be surprised she was still human. Life must've cruelly given her a reason to stop pretending otherwise. And the demolishing of the old high school wasn't new news. 

He was the PE teacher at that school and he was quietly upset at the demolishing. Sure, it was exciting to use the newer campus, especially the rec center with all its brand-new equipment. Even the new magpie logo and mascot were cooler. His new office was awesome, and the black leather swivel chair WAS comfortable. But was it necessary to erase the old campus? All those good memories and stories. People and events he grew very fond of. Secrets he never told his wife. They all echoed there. To have that razed to the ground seemed such a waste. 

While tearing down the old campus did not sit well with him, he did not speak out against it. He decided to keep his head down, stay low, and try to keep his job and transition to the new campus. He'd behave at least until tenure. He chuckled at his phone and responded to Jack, thumbing and reading out his message: [color=000000][b]"Great idea, Jack, honestly wish I thought of it first. See you there." "Aww"[/b][/color] said his wife looming behind with eyes fixed on his phone, [color=000000][b]"High school reunion, that's nice."[/b][/color] 

In a blink, May came around and Jack made another post. [ [sub][i]Hope you fuckers remember to show cause I dont have anything in here[/i][/sub] ] captioning a picture of a vaguely time capsule-shaped object caked in dirt. Connor was coaching at football practice when he froze, holding his phone as if it was a time bomb. She got to it before he did. [color=000000][b]"Coach, your face's all red,"[/b][/color] a Magpie player handed him water, and Coach Sangster muttered on repeat, [color=000000][b][i]"Did I or didn't I? Did I or didn't I?"[/i][/b][/color] 

He gripped his temples. By senior year, he had a crush on his best friend, a boy. Saccade, then the stir of a suppressed memory of him writing a heartfelt, all-out-in-the-open letter addressed to Ryan. How he would not mind if it made him gay, if it made him happy to spend the rest of his life being around him, how Ryan was his reason to bravely come out. He never sent nor handed over the letter. He never came out, though he was counting on it, that eventually, one day... [i]But sweet and gentle baby Jesus in heaven, did I bury the letter in the time capsule? Or didn't I?[/i] The football team noticed the coach try to drink water with a shaky hand. He felt his burning and icy forehead and retired early, [color=000000][b]"Everyone clear out. I'm sorry, I'm feeling sick."[/b][/color] 

Getting through May felt forever, with his wife Karen trying to get to know him better and with constantly checking for more Jack Wilkerson posts, worst case scenario hanging over his head like a thundercloud. Boom, the last Thursday of May, notification. Whatever chemical released in his brain at that moment, it wasn't serotonin or dopamine. [ [sub][i]PJs June 16 @ 5pm. RSVP below. last one's buying the first round.[/i][/sub] ] Connor Sangster was among the first few to click [b]Going[/b] although he felt like god was laughing, the fact that they're starting their reunion at a queer bar. He stared at the photos of P. Johnson's, like they were omens.

Then the day came. Connor Sangster dressed in all Ritman Magpie uniform - the one he hadn't worn since seven years ago - and it did look a little too tight on him, as his wife Karen told him, but he had to show up like this, cap worn backwards with a dumb smile on his face. He looked around the crowded place, where colorful flags were pinned to the walls and patrons seated on stools keeping mindful not to elbow their neighbor. The music was actually rather fun and the conversations he could eavesdrop were interesting, and not before long, he saw three familiar faces when they gathered. Hanna, Meir, and Jack. 

He approached madly laughing, [color=000000][b]"Bet you thought I got fat."[/b][/color][/sub][/color][/indent]
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