@Amore hey love. Interested. Fc reservation Lucky Blue Smith and Charlotte Lawrence. The boy will have a teal blue variant color, and the girl with have pale yellow or gold. :)
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As far as Ryland could tell, this was the dumbest he's ever seen his friend. Getting back with a toxic man, and allowing her anger to build up with this girl — April was her name? — this girl, that got involved with one of Kavi's 'oops' fuck ups. Fucking dumb. Doesn't matter who started the kiss, he reciprocated, and all of a sudden she's back to dating his ass, as if he's shown her enough evidence he's a changed man. Fucking dumb. On top of that, Ariel was putting all her anger towards April, instead of the person that deserved to work harder than he ever did before to win her back. Fucking dumb.
But, no, like Ariel fashion, she caved in, believing every word he spoke, because what? Love? And 'together' they're going to work shit out? She's told Rye enough about her feelings, for him to understand the situation, before she even explained it to him. They're dating. The hand holding made that apparent. Yet, here she was, looking like she was going to punch a pregnant woman, who was attempting to make this all water under the bridge.
Ariel?
Forgive?
HA.
Don't even get him started with this sorry excuse of a man, who 'accidentally' shoved him to break the distance between him and April. Following after that smooth move, he sounded like the most condescending douchebag he ever did meet. If Ariel thought she had this dog trained, she was mistaken, but whatever, it was obvious she didn't want things to change. It was obvious she wanted to stay angry at the world. It was obvious she liked the pain.
Why was he even interfering again?
Oh, that's right. Because he cared.
"You really think you know her..." Ryland forcibly, and intentionally, shoved Kavi back, out of his bubble, blocking Ariel's path toward April. "April, sorry for intruding, but I think you should just leave. And you." The new kid darted a glare at Kavi, "You deserve more than just that. You fucking hurt her, dude. You always fucking hurt her. What? Saying sorry is just going to make her smile?" He could feel it. The anger boiling inside him, but he was going to do his best to swallow it. Not on his first day. His mother would be upset if she found out he already gotten in a fight.
With a stony expression, he aimed his fire and attention to Ariel, "Don't be fucking dumb, Ariel."
But, no, like Ariel fashion, she caved in, believing every word he spoke, because what? Love? And 'together' they're going to work shit out? She's told Rye enough about her feelings, for him to understand the situation, before she even explained it to him. They're dating. The hand holding made that apparent. Yet, here she was, looking like she was going to punch a pregnant woman, who was attempting to make this all water under the bridge.
Ariel?
Forgive?
HA.
Don't even get him started with this sorry excuse of a man, who 'accidentally' shoved him to break the distance between him and April. Following after that smooth move, he sounded like the most condescending douchebag he ever did meet. If Ariel thought she had this dog trained, she was mistaken, but whatever, it was obvious she didn't want things to change. It was obvious she wanted to stay angry at the world. It was obvious she liked the pain.
Why was he even interfering again?
Oh, that's right. Because he cared.
"You really think you know her..." Ryland forcibly, and intentionally, shoved Kavi back, out of his bubble, blocking Ariel's path toward April. "April, sorry for intruding, but I think you should just leave. And you." The new kid darted a glare at Kavi, "You deserve more than just that. You fucking hurt her, dude. You always fucking hurt her. What? Saying sorry is just going to make her smile?" He could feel it. The anger boiling inside him, but he was going to do his best to swallow it. Not on his first day. His mother would be upset if she found out he already gotten in a fight.
With a stony expression, he aimed his fire and attention to Ariel, "Don't be fucking dumb, Ariel."
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Was the nerdy-ass jock actually the one hosting this party?
When Lucky Cross thought of bangers, he did not think of Aria Herondale. She was respected, sure, but she had no idea what made parties worth attending. He doubted the lot that was already there pre-gamed, he doubted any of them had anything but maybe one weed delight made by that wonderfully, dimple-faced JK, and he doubted anyone made a mistake yet. So honestly? It would be a disservice to her, and the entire party, if he didn't help out, even just a little.
With disgust written all over his face, the Hound twirled the keys of his father's old wagnoneer, that he borrowed, with a cigarette resting in between his lips, waiting for two others to grab the goods he brought. First, his boy, Hunter "Chase" Wolfe, who was currently suspended from Rosefell for who-the-hell-knows-how-long, carried the cooler full of hard, one-cup-could-get-you-drunk, jungle juice, while hanging over his shoulder was a duffel bag filled with fireworks, because who doesn't like fireworks? Yeah, most of it was illegal, but who the hell cares? This was a party. Chase was a fellow boy battling demons, having grabbed someone's trumpet from their hand, and — well, the whole school knows the story. He either talked too little, or too much, but it all ended the same. With violence.
Beside Chase, throwing her hoodie over her head, was someone Lucky considered a little sister, and the only one that could calm the storm of her act-first friends, even though she was basically their age and also had aggressive tendencies: Nellie. Her full name was Helena Perfect, but she was far from perfect and one of the most vulgar students at their school. She was a bitch, and a boss, and she didn't need to pretend to be a barbie to get her point across. She was like a chihuahua, but her bite was that of an untrained pitbull. The main reason she could handle damaged and broken people was because she too was damaged and broken. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, with the more prized goods (drugs), she snagged the cig from her friend and took a drag, "You're wasting good shit on kids that don't deserve it."
"That may be the case." Lucky clasped his father's keys tightly in his hand. Peering down at the shortie, his lips rose upward into a smirk, "But, you know me. And I love—"
"Mayhem. Chaos. Stupidity. Yeah, yeah. I know." She flicked the ashes on her friend's shoe, before adding, "Y'know Hunt' and I ain't staying for this shit. This place reeks of turds and cunts.” She blew smoke in his face, before dropping his cig on the floor and rubbing it on the ground with her foot. Only here because she “owed” him one, and also because she knew he convinced Chase to come along and there was no need for someone to go to the hospital. Oh, how lady like. “When you're done playin' around with your dick, come over and watch some flicks, you hear?"
"Of course." In amusement, Lucky chuckled, before handing over his keys to the tiny girl and grabbing two cases of beer from the back seat of the car. There was never enough alcohol at these things, and he’d be damned if his buzz left him.
“We can keep your mom’s whiskey?” Chase grumbled, as he adjusted the cooler in his hands. A little ticked Nellie wasn’t going to let him stay for at least a drink.
"Yeah, man. She won’t know it’s gone. But you do need to get the car back.”
When Lucky Cross thought of bangers, he did not think of Aria Herondale. She was respected, sure, but she had no idea what made parties worth attending. He doubted the lot that was already there pre-gamed, he doubted any of them had anything but maybe one weed delight made by that wonderfully, dimple-faced JK, and he doubted anyone made a mistake yet. So honestly? It would be a disservice to her, and the entire party, if he didn't help out, even just a little.
With disgust written all over his face, the Hound twirled the keys of his father's old wagnoneer, that he borrowed, with a cigarette resting in between his lips, waiting for two others to grab the goods he brought. First, his boy, Hunter "Chase" Wolfe, who was currently suspended from Rosefell for who-the-hell-knows-how-long, carried the cooler full of hard, one-cup-could-get-you-drunk, jungle juice, while hanging over his shoulder was a duffel bag filled with fireworks, because who doesn't like fireworks? Yeah, most of it was illegal, but who the hell cares? This was a party. Chase was a fellow boy battling demons, having grabbed someone's trumpet from their hand, and — well, the whole school knows the story. He either talked too little, or too much, but it all ended the same. With violence.
Beside Chase, throwing her hoodie over her head, was someone Lucky considered a little sister, and the only one that could calm the storm of her act-first friends, even though she was basically their age and also had aggressive tendencies: Nellie. Her full name was Helena Perfect, but she was far from perfect and one of the most vulgar students at their school. She was a bitch, and a boss, and she didn't need to pretend to be a barbie to get her point across. She was like a chihuahua, but her bite was that of an untrained pitbull. The main reason she could handle damaged and broken people was because she too was damaged and broken. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, with the more prized goods (drugs), she snagged the cig from her friend and took a drag, "You're wasting good shit on kids that don't deserve it."
"That may be the case." Lucky clasped his father's keys tightly in his hand. Peering down at the shortie, his lips rose upward into a smirk, "But, you know me. And I love—"
"Mayhem. Chaos. Stupidity. Yeah, yeah. I know." She flicked the ashes on her friend's shoe, before adding, "Y'know Hunt' and I ain't staying for this shit. This place reeks of turds and cunts.” She blew smoke in his face, before dropping his cig on the floor and rubbing it on the ground with her foot. Only here because she “owed” him one, and also because she knew he convinced Chase to come along and there was no need for someone to go to the hospital. Oh, how lady like. “When you're done playin' around with your dick, come over and watch some flicks, you hear?"
"Of course." In amusement, Lucky chuckled, before handing over his keys to the tiny girl and grabbing two cases of beer from the back seat of the car. There was never enough alcohol at these things, and he’d be damned if his buzz left him.
“We can keep your mom’s whiskey?” Chase grumbled, as he adjusted the cooler in his hands. A little ticked Nellie wasn’t going to let him stay for at least a drink.
"Yeah, man. She won’t know it’s gone. But you do need to get the car back.”
Finally arriving, Lucky and his crew made their entrance, by Chase putting the cooler down, lighting a roman candle, and shooting it toward the lake. As unsafe as that was, he didn't hit anyone.
"Alright losers!" Nellie shouted, as she made her way to the favor/snack table. Taking her bag off, she dumped the goods on the table. Out of her bag came drugs you'd find at a rave, think MDMA and LSD, glowy shit like sticks and jewelry, a bag of weed, a couple already rolled joints, and a weed bowl. Fuck them, she wasn't going to bring her bong. "Don't be fucking pussies, this is a party, ain't it?"
Once Lucky placed the cases by the beer pong table, he went toward the first people he caught sight of at the beginning, his childhood friend, Melissa, and an eyesore, "If you two are going to eye fuck each other, why don't you do it while playing a game?" He gave Melissa a challenging, slightly annoyed glare, "Come down from your pedestal, and show these kids how to party." His friend was well aware of how bluntly Logan spoke. To her, no less. But, she knew, he had her in his best interest and her sitting way up there, while everyone was awkwardly making conversation, was not the way to go.
Once the fireworks went out, Chase grabbed the cooler and put it by the drink table, “Want to feel good, fast? Drink this." After the cooler was situated, he took his duffel bag off and tossed it to the person with the marshmallows, sitting by their lonesome self (Dylan), who was not too far from the people sharing an intimate moment on a log (Mia and Ludvig), “You there, stop thinking and have fun."
Pulling Chase's arm, both him and her grabbing a shot off the table, they made their way to their friend, handing him the two shots - well aware what he was up to. He offered Dee a shot, his way of declaring war, and slyly grinned, "You two versus me and whoever-the-fuck-else. Let's get this party started, shall we?"
"You hear that, dipshits! Who wants to play beer pong with this asshat?! The big bad wolf!"
Now, this was a show, and if these two refused, that would be rather embarrassing.
"Alright losers!" Nellie shouted, as she made her way to the favor/snack table. Taking her bag off, she dumped the goods on the table. Out of her bag came drugs you'd find at a rave, think MDMA and LSD, glowy shit like sticks and jewelry, a bag of weed, a couple already rolled joints, and a weed bowl. Fuck them, she wasn't going to bring her bong. "Don't be fucking pussies, this is a party, ain't it?"
Once Lucky placed the cases by the beer pong table, he went toward the first people he caught sight of at the beginning, his childhood friend, Melissa, and an eyesore, "If you two are going to eye fuck each other, why don't you do it while playing a game?" He gave Melissa a challenging, slightly annoyed glare, "Come down from your pedestal, and show these kids how to party." His friend was well aware of how bluntly Logan spoke. To her, no less. But, she knew, he had her in his best interest and her sitting way up there, while everyone was awkwardly making conversation, was not the way to go.
Once the fireworks went out, Chase grabbed the cooler and put it by the drink table, “Want to feel good, fast? Drink this." After the cooler was situated, he took his duffel bag off and tossed it to the person with the marshmallows, sitting by their lonesome self (Dylan), who was not too far from the people sharing an intimate moment on a log (Mia and Ludvig), “You there, stop thinking and have fun."
Pulling Chase's arm, both him and her grabbing a shot off the table, they made their way to their friend, handing him the two shots - well aware what he was up to. He offered Dee a shot, his way of declaring war, and slyly grinned, "You two versus me and whoever-the-fuck-else. Let's get this party started, shall we?"
"You hear that, dipshits! Who wants to play beer pong with this asshat?! The big bad wolf!"
Now, this was a show, and if these two refused, that would be rather embarrassing.
The moment Ariana Mossos sauntered away, hips swaying, with unassailable confidence, Chrissie’s smile vanished from her face. Her gaze fell to her lap, as she sat there, still and silent. No motivation whatsoever to go inside. To see him. How awful would that be? Shaking her head, trying to get these disheartening thoughts out of her mind (she couldn’t let anyone see her like this), she patted her cheeks, allowing herself time for an internal pep talk. After a minute or two, she turned her attention towards the entrance, only to catch sight of a familiar, annoying face.
Carter.
The boy that had her cousin’s heart. Just looking at him pissed her off. He was the pimple that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times she tried to pop it. Gritting her teeth, she opened the passenger door, locked it, and gingerly closed it behind her. Putting on the most sugary-sweet smile, she pranced forward, taking fast steps to catch up with the boy.
When she finally did so, she called out, “Yo, CJ!” Keeping it ‘casual’, she threw her bag over her shoulder, approached him with conviction, and unrelenting force, before begrudgingly asking, “Got any big plans for our last months here? Life changing and actually going to make a difference?” Chris wasn’t here to make small talk, she never was, but she was here for something.
Suddenly hearing Chrissie’s voice pipe up from behind him was enough to make Carter roll his eyes in exasperation; he instantly found himself wishing that he’d followed Chanel’s lead and headed straight for his locker. For a brief moment, the young man even considered quickening his pace so that she wouldn’t be able to catch up, but he decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he slowed down so that she could fall into step beside him; the smile that was plastered across his face was nothing short of phony. “Always nice to see you, Chrissie,” Carter said, his tone hinting at sarcasm. “Of course I have a lot planned for this semester… you know, per usual. I’m actually helping a few people organize a climate change protest for next week. Maybe you’ll be able to take some time out of your super busy theater schedule to attend and… what was it? Actually make a difference.”
Rolling her eyes in response to his retort, Chris chortled in irritation, “Typical and predictable, I’ll pass.” She shook her head in disapproval, while acknowledging that was a strangely clever thing for him to say. “Believe it or not, Carter, actors are agents of change and theater, like film, like a book — hell, even like a song — can make a difference. But you wouldn’t understand.” Her green gaze scrutinized him, as she smiled widely, “And that’s okay.”
Dry and uncompromising, she studied him, while pushing a piece of hair behind her right ear. What did Stella see in him anyways? The only remarkable thing about him was his expensive taste and that wasn’t saying much. “I get it. I really do.” She didn’t, really. Protests rarely resulted in anything but making noise. Protesting was an illusion that made common people think they had power. That someone with actual power could hear them. Reality was simple. This world was a selfish place and some people were given diamonds, and others got squat. That’s just how things were and Chris honestly did not see the point in ‘protesting’ to get your ‘mission’ across.
“But that’s neither here nor there. Did you know Stella came back from Paree this morning? Mm, I’m so jealous of her. You know what poets say—” She clasped her hands together, pretending to make a wish, and gave a theatrical, dreamy pose. “—Paris is the city for love!”
“Oh sure, I couldn’t possibly understand,” Carter said with a roll of his eyes. Leave it to Chrissie McCoy and her patronizing attitude to swoop in and put a damper on what would’ve been a pretty great morning. In fact, Carter was just about to excuse himself from the conversation when the young woman mentioned the girl that he’d spent quite a bit of time thinking about over break; unfortunately enough for Carter, this person also happened to be Chrissie’s cousin. The young man couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her final statement. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asked, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy as he spoke.
Treating him to a coy smile, not wanting to give too much away, just enough to play with the candlelight burning in his chest, Chrissie hinted matter-of-factly, “Let’s just say... something happened.” She looked into his eyes, determined not to falter. To show him how deadly serious she was when it came to anything revolving around Stella. If he was truly worth her cousin’s time, he would get over this obstacle, but it was her job to not make things easy. Love wasn’t easy and she didn’t think he was right for her. What did he have that Marcel didn’t? What made him so special, so unique, so… compatible? Falling in love was the easiest part, but nothing lasts forever, and she doubted Carter was any different.
The warning bell went off, signaling them it was near time to head to homeroom, and as a way to assert her dominance, she giggled, which was like an auditory and unwarranted hug, and dismissed herself, “Well look at the time, I’m so glad we had this chat.” Chris, who never used her fists in a confrontation, carefully threaded her words and spoke with an air of finality. She knew exactly what she was doing and had no ounce of regret. “I do hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”
Striding forward, taking the lead, she gave distance between herself and Carter. With each stride, her mind became more resolute, more clear of what she wanted. Looking over her shoulder, back at the boy who admired her cousin, she drawled her goodbye, “Until next time, CJ.”
"Uh... okay..." Standing with his hands in his pockets and his mind whirling, Carter watched in stark silence as she hurried down the hall; it was rare for someone to leave him speechless, and the fact that it had been Chrissie who'd done so made it even worse. Typically, Carter would've just shrugged off whatever it was that she'd said and continued on with his day; but as the young man began to make his way towards his locker, he couldn't help but replay her words over in his head. Stella was someone that he'd grown to care about, and whatever Chrissie had to say about it could never change how he felt about her. But it hadn't really dawned on him that maybe his feelings weren't reciprocated like he thought they were. Chrissie had been pretty vague about it all, but he couldn't help but wonder if Stella had found some fairy-tale level romance while on her trip to Paris; he couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous. And hurt.
But then another thought popped into his head as he slammed his locker shut and tucked his books under his arm: what if Chrissie was just making it all up? It was no secret that the two of them had a pretty complicated relationship; perhaps she was just trying to get a rise out of him? She was an actress after all, and a pretty good one at that (not that Carter would ever admit it), so of course her performance would've sounded convincing. "Whatever..." Carter said under his breath as he let out a frustrated sigh and began his journey to class. He'd just have to figure it all out later, whenever he got the chance to see Stella.
Carter.
The boy that had her cousin’s heart. Just looking at him pissed her off. He was the pimple that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times she tried to pop it. Gritting her teeth, she opened the passenger door, locked it, and gingerly closed it behind her. Putting on the most sugary-sweet smile, she pranced forward, taking fast steps to catch up with the boy.
When she finally did so, she called out, “Yo, CJ!” Keeping it ‘casual’, she threw her bag over her shoulder, approached him with conviction, and unrelenting force, before begrudgingly asking, “Got any big plans for our last months here? Life changing and actually going to make a difference?” Chris wasn’t here to make small talk, she never was, but she was here for something.
Suddenly hearing Chrissie’s voice pipe up from behind him was enough to make Carter roll his eyes in exasperation; he instantly found himself wishing that he’d followed Chanel’s lead and headed straight for his locker. For a brief moment, the young man even considered quickening his pace so that she wouldn’t be able to catch up, but he decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he slowed down so that she could fall into step beside him; the smile that was plastered across his face was nothing short of phony. “Always nice to see you, Chrissie,” Carter said, his tone hinting at sarcasm. “Of course I have a lot planned for this semester… you know, per usual. I’m actually helping a few people organize a climate change protest for next week. Maybe you’ll be able to take some time out of your super busy theater schedule to attend and… what was it? Actually make a difference.”
Rolling her eyes in response to his retort, Chris chortled in irritation, “Typical and predictable, I’ll pass.” She shook her head in disapproval, while acknowledging that was a strangely clever thing for him to say. “Believe it or not, Carter, actors are agents of change and theater, like film, like a book — hell, even like a song — can make a difference. But you wouldn’t understand.” Her green gaze scrutinized him, as she smiled widely, “And that’s okay.”
Dry and uncompromising, she studied him, while pushing a piece of hair behind her right ear. What did Stella see in him anyways? The only remarkable thing about him was his expensive taste and that wasn’t saying much. “I get it. I really do.” She didn’t, really. Protests rarely resulted in anything but making noise. Protesting was an illusion that made common people think they had power. That someone with actual power could hear them. Reality was simple. This world was a selfish place and some people were given diamonds, and others got squat. That’s just how things were and Chris honestly did not see the point in ‘protesting’ to get your ‘mission’ across.
“But that’s neither here nor there. Did you know Stella came back from Paree this morning? Mm, I’m so jealous of her. You know what poets say—” She clasped her hands together, pretending to make a wish, and gave a theatrical, dreamy pose. “—Paris is the city for love!”
“Oh sure, I couldn’t possibly understand,” Carter said with a roll of his eyes. Leave it to Chrissie McCoy and her patronizing attitude to swoop in and put a damper on what would’ve been a pretty great morning. In fact, Carter was just about to excuse himself from the conversation when the young woman mentioned the girl that he’d spent quite a bit of time thinking about over break; unfortunately enough for Carter, this person also happened to be Chrissie’s cousin. The young man couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her final statement. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asked, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy as he spoke.
Treating him to a coy smile, not wanting to give too much away, just enough to play with the candlelight burning in his chest, Chrissie hinted matter-of-factly, “Let’s just say... something happened.” She looked into his eyes, determined not to falter. To show him how deadly serious she was when it came to anything revolving around Stella. If he was truly worth her cousin’s time, he would get over this obstacle, but it was her job to not make things easy. Love wasn’t easy and she didn’t think he was right for her. What did he have that Marcel didn’t? What made him so special, so unique, so… compatible? Falling in love was the easiest part, but nothing lasts forever, and she doubted Carter was any different.
The warning bell went off, signaling them it was near time to head to homeroom, and as a way to assert her dominance, she giggled, which was like an auditory and unwarranted hug, and dismissed herself, “Well look at the time, I’m so glad we had this chat.” Chris, who never used her fists in a confrontation, carefully threaded her words and spoke with an air of finality. She knew exactly what she was doing and had no ounce of regret. “I do hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”
Striding forward, taking the lead, she gave distance between herself and Carter. With each stride, her mind became more resolute, more clear of what she wanted. Looking over her shoulder, back at the boy who admired her cousin, she drawled her goodbye, “Until next time, CJ.”
"Uh... okay..." Standing with his hands in his pockets and his mind whirling, Carter watched in stark silence as she hurried down the hall; it was rare for someone to leave him speechless, and the fact that it had been Chrissie who'd done so made it even worse. Typically, Carter would've just shrugged off whatever it was that she'd said and continued on with his day; but as the young man began to make his way towards his locker, he couldn't help but replay her words over in his head. Stella was someone that he'd grown to care about, and whatever Chrissie had to say about it could never change how he felt about her. But it hadn't really dawned on him that maybe his feelings weren't reciprocated like he thought they were. Chrissie had been pretty vague about it all, but he couldn't help but wonder if Stella had found some fairy-tale level romance while on her trip to Paris; he couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous. And hurt.
But then another thought popped into his head as he slammed his locker shut and tucked his books under his arm: what if Chrissie was just making it all up? It was no secret that the two of them had a pretty complicated relationship; perhaps she was just trying to get a rise out of him? She was an actress after all, and a pretty good one at that (not that Carter would ever admit it), so of course her performance would've sounded convincing. "Whatever..." Carter said under his breath as he let out a frustrated sigh and began his journey to class. He'd just have to figure it all out later, whenever he got the chance to see Stella.
- snipped -
- snipped -
I’ll be making a scholarship boy who will be the brother of HaleyTheRandom’s Unnamed character and a trust fund girl :) names, colors, and faces still pending lol.
How did they expect him to react?
With a jolly ol' laugh like his old man, accepting their happiness, as if he knew all along? As if their feelings, their happiness, mattered more than his hurt? His father could be mature, could bury his feelings, for someone else, pretending it didn't mattered, that he, his own goddamn self, didn't matter, but for Ryland? He wasn't like his dad — no matter how many times his mother says he's more like his dad than he realizes. No matter how much they tell him it'll all work out in the end. And, no matter how long they keep trying to give him value, give him purpose, and give him the benefit of the doubt... their efforts were meaningless. He refused to break.
Why should he act like he was okay with this? That he should've expected it a mile away and that those two, not telling him SHIT, like he wasn't their best friend or anything, wouldn't leave an impact? Even if they slipped, even if it was a matter of them "oops" forgetting, that was a horrible excuse and showed just how much he actually mattered to them. He would not change for his friends, for his parents, or for anyone! They shouldn't expect him to. And this rage? The fire that burns hot, an inferno that never seems to simmer, would destroy him from the inside out, until he was nothing more than the consequence of catastrophe.
He had his right to feel this way. To feel betrayed. Did everyone know that they were a thing besides him? How long has it been going on? Have they been lying to him for... god knows how long...? With his rage, he was trouble best ignored, and yet as he walked down the sidewalk, blaring his music in his ears, he could vividly picture his childhood. The sound of laughter, the breeze in everyone's hair, the endless crusades, and pure unadulterated joy. The melancholy of nostalgic memories cloaked his mind, centering his thoughts on the good, instead of the bad.
Before Ryland knew it, he had arrived at his new school, for his last semester of high school. King's Academy. At least the back of it, having went a round about way, because he was too caught up in his head. After climbing over the stonewall, connected to the back gate (y'know instead of walking through the gate like a normal person), he dropped to the school gardens, which wasn't too far from the football field. Perfect route to avoid anyone and everyone, including his friends.
Securing his hoodie over his head, his place of comfort, he walked forward, prepared to wage war if he needed to. Letting his feet lead the way, and avoiding the most populated area it seemed, the courtyard, Ryland headed inside the senior building, knowing this prior due to past visits. The corridor he was in, was seemingly vacant, besides the music streaming out of one of the rooms, which he'd assume was the music room. Red Hot Chili Peppers... not bad. Rather than follow the sound, he continued on his way, which was... he looked at his left hand, at the written scribbles that was his locker number, before grunting to himself.
He had gotten the school to send him his 'Welcome to King's' package during break, since he didn't want to get a tour from someone he didn't know, or he did know but it was far too long to spend with said person. He didn't want a tour, goddamit! For one, Rye wasn't a deer in headlights, he was a senior for fuck's sake. There was no need for someone random to teach him the ropes when he could do it himself. Plus, this was a rich school, and he went to a rich school prior. How different could they be? Besides size, obviously.
Striding forward, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, dodging all chatter, he glanced to his right, to see down another hall, and caught sight of a familiar raven haired princess. Stopping in his tracks, the sudden thought of her text message to him about her 'good news' covered his damage with Marisol and Sonny. From her figure, his eyes darted to the guy she closely stood next to, as she laced her fingers with his. Grinding his teeth, Ryland threw all thought out the window and walked down the hall with annoyance written all over his face. When he got closer, he saw another girl he didn't know well enough to put a name to the face, but she seemed familiar.
“Oh you shouldn’t have!”
Regardless of his lack of memory for April, and with little idea of what they were talking about, Ryland stepped in front of the two lovebirds, next to the speed racing queen, examined the situation, before shooting Ariel a deathly glare.
“I mean, this must have set you back a pretty penny.”
"Stop being modest. It doesn't suit you." Ryland interjected, locking his dark gaze with Kavi, as if it was a frosted dagger cutting right through his skin, before sarcastically laughing and turning his attention back to Ariel, "I'm so happy you've gotten your priorities straight."
With a jolly ol' laugh like his old man, accepting their happiness, as if he knew all along? As if their feelings, their happiness, mattered more than his hurt? His father could be mature, could bury his feelings, for someone else, pretending it didn't mattered, that he, his own goddamn self, didn't matter, but for Ryland? He wasn't like his dad — no matter how many times his mother says he's more like his dad than he realizes. No matter how much they tell him it'll all work out in the end. And, no matter how long they keep trying to give him value, give him purpose, and give him the benefit of the doubt... their efforts were meaningless. He refused to break.
Why should he act like he was okay with this? That he should've expected it a mile away and that those two, not telling him SHIT, like he wasn't their best friend or anything, wouldn't leave an impact? Even if they slipped, even if it was a matter of them "oops" forgetting, that was a horrible excuse and showed just how much he actually mattered to them. He would not change for his friends, for his parents, or for anyone! They shouldn't expect him to. And this rage? The fire that burns hot, an inferno that never seems to simmer, would destroy him from the inside out, until he was nothing more than the consequence of catastrophe.
He had his right to feel this way. To feel betrayed. Did everyone know that they were a thing besides him? How long has it been going on? Have they been lying to him for... god knows how long...? With his rage, he was trouble best ignored, and yet as he walked down the sidewalk, blaring his music in his ears, he could vividly picture his childhood. The sound of laughter, the breeze in everyone's hair, the endless crusades, and pure unadulterated joy. The melancholy of nostalgic memories cloaked his mind, centering his thoughts on the good, instead of the bad.
Before Ryland knew it, he had arrived at his new school, for his last semester of high school. King's Academy. At least the back of it, having went a round about way, because he was too caught up in his head. After climbing over the stonewall, connected to the back gate (y'know instead of walking through the gate like a normal person), he dropped to the school gardens, which wasn't too far from the football field. Perfect route to avoid anyone and everyone, including his friends.
Securing his hoodie over his head, his place of comfort, he walked forward, prepared to wage war if he needed to. Letting his feet lead the way, and avoiding the most populated area it seemed, the courtyard, Ryland headed inside the senior building, knowing this prior due to past visits. The corridor he was in, was seemingly vacant, besides the music streaming out of one of the rooms, which he'd assume was the music room. Red Hot Chili Peppers... not bad. Rather than follow the sound, he continued on his way, which was... he looked at his left hand, at the written scribbles that was his locker number, before grunting to himself.
He had gotten the school to send him his 'Welcome to King's' package during break, since he didn't want to get a tour from someone he didn't know, or he did know but it was far too long to spend with said person. He didn't want a tour, goddamit! For one, Rye wasn't a deer in headlights, he was a senior for fuck's sake. There was no need for someone random to teach him the ropes when he could do it himself. Plus, this was a rich school, and he went to a rich school prior. How different could they be? Besides size, obviously.
Striding forward, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, dodging all chatter, he glanced to his right, to see down another hall, and caught sight of a familiar raven haired princess. Stopping in his tracks, the sudden thought of her text message to him about her 'good news' covered his damage with Marisol and Sonny. From her figure, his eyes darted to the guy she closely stood next to, as she laced her fingers with his. Grinding his teeth, Ryland threw all thought out the window and walked down the hall with annoyance written all over his face. When he got closer, he saw another girl he didn't know well enough to put a name to the face, but she seemed familiar.
“Oh you shouldn’t have!”
Regardless of his lack of memory for April, and with little idea of what they were talking about, Ryland stepped in front of the two lovebirds, next to the speed racing queen, examined the situation, before shooting Ariel a deathly glare.
“I mean, this must have set you back a pretty penny.”
"Stop being modest. It doesn't suit you." Ryland interjected, locking his dark gaze with Kavi, as if it was a frosted dagger cutting right through his skin, before sarcastically laughing and turning his attention back to Ariel, "I'm so happy you've gotten your priorities straight."
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