Jeremy Gilbert has been walking for a long, long time. He doesn't know where he is by the time he ends up there at the pool hall. Jeremy doesn't know that Alek will be there right now, but he's angry (and hurting and upset) and he's walked more than he has any right to walk. He can't walk anymore so he steps into the pool hall that he's been to before with Alek in the past. They talked about hanging out in his journal entry, and they did. It helped distract Jeremy from the stalker situation, which has thankfully quieted quite a bit since she was bodily removed from their house.
He steps through to the back, looking for something... anything.
Just fuck.
The whole of it is still racing through his head, and he wants to be numb. He wants to forget about it for the night at least, because he can't handle it. Jeremy can still remember her hands on his face, the coolness of her underneath him as he kissed her, her smile when she's laughing, and how she looked on that street when he found her
( ... )
The lights are dim but one can still make out his form if they're paying enough attention, sitting at a table by himself. There's a glass of something strong served in front of him, but he hasn't taken a sip from it. He's just staring down at it sullenly. He could use a drink himself, but he could use anger more, and he keeps being taught that that's wrong
( ... )
Jeremy is not expecting to see Alek at the pool place. He should have since they've been there before together. It's not why he came. It's just where he ended up, and it seemed better waking into a place that he knew than some random building on the street.
He may have walked all this way, but he's not going to take any other chances with his safety. Jeremy doesn't want to die. He's just angry. It's not that he wants something to happen. Well, he does. He is angry, and he wants to fight someone, but not to the extent that he would walk into a building that he doesn't recognize and hope it wasn't Society related.
It keeps ringing through his head like some constant drum, like an endless thudding, warning in his chest that he cannot ignore though he wishes he could. He wishes he could for just a moment to calm down again, to not feel like it's all pointlessBecause everyone dies anyway... for no good reason. It's just the way that life is, car accident, murdered, staked, broken neck, shot
( ... )
It's why Alek hasn't bothered making friends again since he became a full-fledged werewolf. It's why he hasn't bothered reaching out, not that he'd know how anyway, because everyone dies, and everyone does whatever they think is best without taking into consideration what you want.
Whether it's his friends that the Rift takes or his mom who just died one day, or his father who never bothered showing up at all, people leave. They leave by death or they leave by choice, and he can't decide which one of the two alternatives is worse.
"Something like that," Alek says with a humorless snort, nodding at Jeremy in greeting when he sits down. It sounds bitter, more bitter than he usually lets himself sound, Bitterness means he cares. Bitterness means something matters, and it would be much more preferable if nothing did matter
( ... )
Jess sometimes hangs out at this pool hall, because it is a place that she would frequent. It's popular, and as much as the crowds can get to her emotion wise, it's sometimes nice to lose herself in it. It drowns out her own emotions at times, and she likes that even when she's not feeling particularly emotional. She's not really planning on staying too much longer.
She recognizes Alek from school. Jess pays attention to those kinds of things, but they've never really talked before. The anger from him would be impossible not to feel even in the crowd, but she won't bring it up. It's much easier for her to form lasting friendships with people when they do not know she can feel their every emotion without wanting or trying to even.
Emotions should be other people's, not hers. Even if she really can't imagine her life, imagine herself without feeling that world of emotions from the people around her. It's a little addicting
( ... )
If it was just anger, he'd have gotten into a fight immediately, finding a way to get the anger out of his system. It's so familiar it's all but a part of him. It's the underlying current of sadness and grief that he is not sure what to do with, and he is grateful she doesn't mention it, since he's not good at verbalizing or admitting his feelings as it is.
It's the anger that's mostly radiating off of him, so no one's exactly fighting over themselves to play a game of pool with him. He's got a reputation, and no one's really looking to get their heads bashed in tonight. Alek's seconds away from ordering a drink when he hears her voice
( ... )
Jess can feel the rest too, and it's funny how she can feel it, pick out each emotion but they all come like that. It's like noise, like water. Like a very angry song, under the anger, there's something much more sad underneath it.
They're private feelings that she shouldn't know about though. They're for him and him alone, and people who aren't good at verbalizing their feelings, it's not going to help them, help him if she brings up something she shouldn't know about at all.
Jess is not at all afraid to get her head bashed in here. If she seems to only piss him off more, she'd give him space, but she's not planning on pissing him off and she's not afraid either. There's nothing to be afraid of. Well, that and she has a reputation herself so it's not like that would stop her from hanging out with someone if she wanted to.
"Yep, that'd be me, and you're Alek," she says with a small smirk that widens into a smile as if she's proud of it. Yes, she'll take his joke seriously here
( ... )
Okay, and the sight of her small smirk has him smiling a bit in spite of himself.
"Got it in one," he says, taking a deep breath. The server brings about his drink, and Alek looks over to Jess, motioning with his hands in case she wants one, too. He knows that not everyone comes here to drink if they're underage, but he'll still ask in case she's in the mood.
He's surprisingly not a big drinker, unless it's to help with the edge when the full moon's around the corner, and afterward, when the pain seems like it'll never stop. It's amazing how it can numb your senses, and there's something very, very appealing about that.
Alek's surprised, but he takes the pool stick in his hand.
"Oh. So I'm just a means to an end, I see," he says, leaning against the pool table. "You're lucky my feelings aren't so easily hurt. And for the record, no. I'm not afraid, and I'm really good at pool, so I'm going to have to prove it now."
His reputation's on the line here.
And whether she knows it or not, she's just given him the perfect distraction.
Scout does not hate everything. In fact, she's smiling broadly as she slips up against the back of the crowd, hands sticky with red blood, leaving red hand prints on everything.
People generally haven't noticed her, though that may have something to do with the fact that Scout is currently invisible. It happens right after she kills, as a defense mechanism these days (although it's not like no one can't smell the blood on her if they really wanted to).
Of course, she becomes visible again standing right next to Alek and beams up at him, raising one blood-covered hand to wave at him. "Hihi," she grins. There's blood in her hair, streaked across her face, coagulating in her eyebrows. Yup. Hi.
That means his senses are incredibly heightened, including that of smell. He catches the scent of blood immediately, and he looks around, nearly jumping back at the sight of Scout who had not been there only seconds ago. Can everyone turn invisible these days?
This is a legitimate question.
"Jesus," he breathes out, his gaze dropping to her hand before lifting back up to her face. "What the fuck happened to you?"
Scout grins, stretching her almost-rubbery lips over her huge teeth. She couldn't really tell Alek the answer to his question anyway, because she's buzzing all over and the words barely make sense to her in her jumbled up head.
"What the fuck happened to you?" she counters instead, cocking her head to the side, giggling just a little bit. "The fuck the fuck Jesus fuck Jesus Christ our Father who art in heaven..."
She stops before she can finish the prayer, raising hands stained with blood towards Alek's face. "What the fuck happened to you?" It's softer this time, more caring, almost sweet if a tiny, crazy Rak trying to touch you with her bloody hands can be sweet.
"The world fucking happened to me," Alek replies bitterly, and he looks around, wondering if anyone's going to take notice of the girl with the blood on her hands. He isn't a stranger to blood, having been in more fights than he can count, so maybe he isn't one to judge.
A small lump strangles his throat and he jumps back when she reaches for him with her hands. Alek doesn't know who she is, but he can tell she's lost her mind, and he doesn't know how to handle being touched unless it's a fist to the face that he'll reciprocate in kind sooner enough.
He doesn't play pool, he doesn't drink (he's still underage, for Christ's sake! Plus, one more bad mark on his record and his chances of getting into college are officially shot). Hell, it's technically past his bedtime but tonight he just had to get out. He couldn't explain why; something has been itching under his skin.
He stands at the back, casually trying to watch the game, casually trying not to make eye contact. He can't help it, then, when he's jostled right into the guy standing next to him who just nearly got kicked out of the bar, spilling the guy's drink all over the place, including all over Leon himself.
Alek's got an ID that says he's twenty-one, even if he is still very much eighteen.
He's got no plans of going to college, despite what his older brothers tell him, and he doesn't know what he wants from life. He knows it's more, whether he deserves it or not, but he has no clue as to the what.
He's got at picking fights, Alek. Sometimes he wants to win them and sometimes he really doesn't. He's got a busted lip and a black eye to show for this one, and the last thing he needed was the drink spilling all over.
"Watch it," Alek grumbles, and he winces because even talking kind of hurts right now.
Leon didn't even really look at the guy at first, because eye contact meant a challenge and he was trying so hard not to get into fights these days. He glances now, though, just to see if there's going to be a problem. He really doesn't want there to be a problem.
Instead, though, there's some kind of guardian instinct--just a general one, the last thing Leon needs is a ward who gets beaten up just like he does--that makes him want to help. His fingers twitch, and he curls them into a fist.
"Do you--" There's never a way to phrase this that makes it sound like he's not hitting on this guy. That would go over well. Whatever. Leon's been shown concern in his life. Pay it forward, right? "Do you want some ice or something?" he asks, gesturing with his head toward the bar. "For your eye. Or your lip, your choice."
This fight was a little more intense than most, and Alek isn't looking to get into another one quite so soon. Despite how frequently he may engage in them, he doesn't actually like them. There's just a lot of rage sometimes, he sees red, he can't think, it just happens.
It's not something he can control half of the time.
"Nah, that's fine, man," Alek says, though really, Leon has a point--the black eye needs some ice, but he's a stubborn thing. "Just not looking forward to going home, you know?"
He winces, fingertips lightly touching at the corner of his mouth.
Comments 46
He steps through to the back, looking for something... anything.
Just fuck.
The whole of it is still racing through his head, and he wants to be numb. He wants to forget about it for the night at least, because he can't handle it. Jeremy can still remember her hands on his face, the coolness of her underneath him as he kissed her, her smile when she's laughing, and how she looked on that street when he found her ( ... )
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The lights are dim but one can still make out his form if they're paying enough attention, sitting at a table by himself. There's a glass of something strong served in front of him, but he hasn't taken a sip from it. He's just staring down at it sullenly. He could use a drink himself, but he could use anger more, and he keeps being taught that that's wrong ( ... )
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He may have walked all this way, but he's not going to take any other chances with his safety. Jeremy doesn't want to die. He's just angry. It's not that he wants something to happen. Well, he does. He is angry, and he wants to fight someone, but not to the extent that he would walk into a building that he doesn't recognize and hope it wasn't Society related.
It keeps ringing through his head like some constant drum, like an endless thudding, warning in his chest that he cannot ignore though he wishes he could. He wishes he could for just a moment to calm down again, to not feel like it's all pointlessBecause everyone dies anyway... for no good reason. It's just the way that life is, car accident, murdered, staked, broken neck, shot ( ... )
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It's why Alek hasn't bothered making friends again since he became a full-fledged werewolf. It's why he hasn't bothered reaching out, not that he'd know how anyway, because everyone dies, and everyone does whatever they think is best without taking into consideration what you want.
Whether it's his friends that the Rift takes or his mom who just died one day, or his father who never bothered showing up at all, people leave. They leave by death or they leave by choice, and he can't decide which one of the two alternatives is worse.
"Something like that," Alek says with a humorless snort, nodding at Jeremy in greeting when he sits down. It sounds bitter, more bitter than he usually lets himself sound, Bitterness means he cares. Bitterness means something matters, and it would be much more preferable if nothing did matter ( ... )
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She recognizes Alek from school. Jess pays attention to those kinds of things, but they've never really talked before. The anger from him would be impossible not to feel even in the crowd, but she won't bring it up. It's much easier for her to form lasting friendships with people when they do not know she can feel their every emotion without wanting or trying to even.
Emotions should be other people's, not hers. Even if she really can't imagine her life, imagine herself without feeling that world of emotions from the people around her. It's a little addicting ( ... )
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If it was just anger, he'd have gotten into a fight immediately, finding a way to get the anger out of his system. It's so familiar it's all but a part of him. It's the underlying current of sadness and grief that he is not sure what to do with, and he is grateful she doesn't mention it, since he's not good at verbalizing or admitting his feelings as it is.
It's the anger that's mostly radiating off of him, so no one's exactly fighting over themselves to play a game of pool with him. He's got a reputation, and no one's really looking to get their heads bashed in tonight. Alek's seconds away from ordering a drink when he hears her voice ( ... )
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They're private feelings that she shouldn't know about though. They're for him and him alone, and people who aren't good at verbalizing their feelings, it's not going to help them, help him if she brings up something she shouldn't know about at all.
Jess is not at all afraid to get her head bashed in here. If she seems to only piss him off more, she'd give him space, but she's not planning on pissing him off and she's not afraid either. There's nothing to be afraid of. Well, that and she has a reputation herself so it's not like that would stop her from hanging out with someone if she wanted to.
"Yep, that'd be me, and you're Alek," she says with a small smirk that widens into a smile as if she's proud of it. Yes, she'll take his joke seriously here ( ... )
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"Got it in one," he says, taking a deep breath. The server brings about his drink, and Alek looks over to Jess, motioning with his hands in case she wants one, too. He knows that not everyone comes here to drink if they're underage, but he'll still ask in case she's in the mood.
He's surprisingly not a big drinker, unless it's to help with the edge when the full moon's around the corner, and afterward, when the pain seems like it'll never stop. It's amazing how it can numb your senses, and there's something very, very appealing about that.
Alek's surprised, but he takes the pool stick in his hand.
"Oh. So I'm just a means to an end, I see," he says, leaning against the pool table. "You're lucky my feelings aren't so easily hurt. And for the record, no. I'm not afraid, and I'm really good at pool, so I'm going to have to prove it now."
His reputation's on the line here.
And whether she knows it or not, she's just given him the perfect distraction.
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People generally haven't noticed her, though that may have something to do with the fact that Scout is currently invisible. It happens right after she kills, as a defense mechanism these days (although it's not like no one can't smell the blood on her if they really wanted to).
Of course, she becomes visible again standing right next to Alek and beams up at him, raising one blood-covered hand to wave at him. "Hihi," she grins. There's blood in her hair, streaked across her face, coagulating in her eyebrows. Yup. Hi.
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That means his senses are incredibly heightened, including that of smell. He catches the scent of blood immediately, and he looks around, nearly jumping back at the sight of Scout who had not been there only seconds ago. Can everyone turn invisible these days?
This is a legitimate question.
"Jesus," he breathes out, his gaze dropping to her hand before lifting back up to her face. "What the fuck happened to you?"
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"What the fuck happened to you?" she counters instead, cocking her head to the side, giggling just a little bit. "The fuck the fuck Jesus fuck Jesus Christ our Father who art in heaven..."
She stops before she can finish the prayer, raising hands stained with blood towards Alek's face. "What the fuck happened to you?" It's softer this time, more caring, almost sweet if a tiny, crazy Rak trying to touch you with her bloody hands can be sweet.
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A small lump strangles his throat and he jumps back when she reaches for him with her hands. Alek doesn't know who she is, but he can tell she's lost her mind, and he doesn't know how to handle being touched unless it's a fist to the face that he'll reciprocate in kind sooner enough.
The softness of the voice makes him wince.
"D-don't," he says, eyes burning.
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He doesn't play pool, he doesn't drink (he's still underage, for Christ's sake! Plus, one more bad mark on his record and his chances of getting into college are officially shot). Hell, it's technically past his bedtime but tonight he just had to get out. He couldn't explain why; something has been itching under his skin.
He stands at the back, casually trying to watch the game, casually trying not to make eye contact. He can't help it, then, when he's jostled right into the guy standing next to him who just nearly got kicked out of the bar, spilling the guy's drink all over the place, including all over Leon himself.
Oh great. This is just what Leon needs.
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He's got no plans of going to college, despite what his older brothers tell him, and he doesn't know what he wants from life. He knows it's more, whether he deserves it or not, but he has no clue as to the what.
He's got at picking fights, Alek. Sometimes he wants to win them and sometimes he really doesn't. He's got a busted lip and a black eye to show for this one, and the last thing he needed was the drink spilling all over.
"Watch it," Alek grumbles, and he winces because even talking kind of hurts right now.
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Instead, though, there's some kind of guardian instinct--just a general one, the last thing Leon needs is a ward who gets beaten up just like he does--that makes him want to help. His fingers twitch, and he curls them into a fist.
"Do you--" There's never a way to phrase this that makes it sound like he's not hitting on this guy. That would go over well. Whatever. Leon's been shown concern in his life. Pay it forward, right? "Do you want some ice or something?" he asks, gesturing with his head toward the bar. "For your eye. Or your lip, your choice."
Nearly dying changes a guy, that's for sure.
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This fight was a little more intense than most, and Alek isn't looking to get into another one quite so soon. Despite how frequently he may engage in them, he doesn't actually like them. There's just a lot of rage sometimes, he sees red, he can't think, it just happens.
It's not something he can control half of the time.
"Nah, that's fine, man," Alek says, though really, Leon has a point--the black eye needs some ice, but he's a stubborn thing. "Just not looking forward to going home, you know?"
He winces, fingertips lightly touching at the corner of his mouth.
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