we can't go wrong

a half-drunken blur had her slow to react, eyes growing wide with panic upon being more or less  manhandled.  she’d been in situations like this too many times, with men a little too forward, a little too aggressive, but all forms of anxiety faded the moment she realized who it was. if anything, she  wished  he’d manhandle her more.  “  abel,  ”  she greeted with the sort of grin you might share with someone who knew all your secrets, as he surely used to.  “  i’m good. better now, actually, that you’re here. that guy was cute but he was fucking nuts. talking about taking me out on his boat or something, to probably murder me.  ”  jetta explained, feeling like she was talking too much.  “  how are you  ?  it’s been… a minute.  ”  her own manicured hands were placed on top of his.

The easy grin that appeared on Jetta’s features was immediately mirrored - he’d already been smiling at her, something automatic, but it ended up melting. Soft around the edges, where he was usually rough with a need to save face, “Hey,” he repeated, light chuckle in the word at her greeting, “He looked a bit like a boat murderer. Should’ve come in for the save - we should come up with some sort of secret signal. So we know when we should help each other out in situations like that,” Leaning in a bit closer, like he was suggesting something top secret instead of a childish game in a less than childish situation, “Yeah, I’ve -,” Momentarily taken aback, he glanced down at where their hands connected. Abel was never one for public affections, the idea alone sometimes making his skin itch with discomfort, but his grip was tightening around Jetta’s. It felt like he worked on auto-pilot around her sometimes, dipping back into old ways he didn’t even have memories of, coming forward out of some corner of his subconscious, “I’ve been good,” he finally blurted out after taking a moment, “I’ve just been, uh - trying to keep busy, I guess. I’m technically suspended - kind of. Not really, but,” Technically, he really was, “it’s not important. Just trying to find other things now to... stay occupied with. And you? Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“thank you,” delilah said pleasantly. if she noticed his discomfort upon sitting down, she didn’t mention it, although her own expression seemed sympathetic to his for a moment. she handed him the doll. did it look like her? she aimed a quizzical stare at it, trying to decide if it was her coraline buttons-for-eyes counterpart. she couldn’t see the resemblance, save maybe the doll’s colouring. whoever had lost it had been dressing it in a wednesday addams black dress complete with a pilgrim style collar, which delilah had to admit was very halloween fun. and… kitschy. that was the word she was looking for. “yeah, she’s not quite creepy enough to affirm a belief in ghosts or anything. creepy-cute, i guess.” she went back to gluing a card onto one of the turrets. “hey, abel. stick her with a pin, see what happens. maybe she is me. maybe this is like that one r.l. stine story.” she held the card in place as it dried, then moved back slightly to view the mini mansion from a better angle. “anyway, enough about dolls. how are you? oh, do you want something to eat?”

“Creepy-cute,” he agreed firmly, nodding along and using his index finger behind the doll’s head to make it look like she was nodding with him, before finally confiscating it over back to Delilah. Abel found that it was almost actually hard to do so - he’d grown fond in the few seconds they’d spent together, wanting to place her on his knee and watch her balance there, but allowing her to return to her rightful owner. Creepy-cute, a bit like Delilah - he wonders if she’d take that as a compliment, decides to keep the thought to himself in the end, “I don’t have a pin. Do you just carry pins around with you? You shouldn’t do that - or at least be careful, I don’t need you accidentally stabbing yourself,” The question’s a bit open-ended. Abel figures he always operates at a level of ‘good!’ that’s manageable, can be manipulated into the truth even when he’s a bit off, since he’s never that off. He’s not really sure what to do with himself now, though. Free time was never his best friend, and he’d got too much of it, choosing to busy himself with moments like this. Out of all his siblings, spending whatever down time he has with Delilah had always been his favourite way to spend it - she was probably the only Romanov that didn’t cause him to burst into metaphorical hives anytime they were in the same building, “I ate before coming here,” he insisted, waving off her offer with a polite smile, “I’m okay, but, uh... about the suspension? I mean - I would’ve kept that to myself, y’know? If I could’ve? But news travels around here... I don’t know, I don’t even have a comparison. Never seen anything like it. So I know you know, but... let’s not tell mom and dad. Please? I really... really don’t need to hear it from them. Not that I think... you’d rat me out or anything, but I’m... never gonna tell them. So it’ll just be our secret. Okay?”

sat cross-legged on a beach towel, daisy had music playing softly on their phone, a book on their lap, and their eyes closed as they took in the sun. it wasn’t hot enough to be wearing a bikini top, but they couldn’t have cared less — the sun was out, and that was all that mattered. at the sound of footsteps, they cracked an eye open. “you wanna come sit? it’s the nicest spot in campus, i’m not even lying, it’s so good i’d feel bad if i didn’t share.” @radopens​

Compared to Daisy, Abel was adorning a crew neck sweater - one that he was sure wouldn’t leave him feeling too overheated if it came down to it, light knit as it was, but by the time he was by Daisy’s side, he was practically huffing with each step, “I’m sweating,” he pointed out uselessly, all but flopping to the ground as he sat beside Daisy. It wasn’t actually necessary, pointing out the fact that his hairline had started to get somewhat damp, but if Abel were to ever complain about anything to someone, it’d be his roommate, “It’s too hot for a sweater,” Talking to himself now, if anything, “but too cold to be in a bathing suit. Aren’t you cold? I think we dropped the ball today. Dunno about you, but I never drop the ball,” he insisted, making himself more than comfortable as he lied back on Daisy’s beach towel.

“Might as well - I mean, your fucking, career is practically over anyways - right? RA title ripped from you. What will your parents think?” Viktor swallowed down the licorice they’d been chewing - angrily, almost, though they hadn’t been so ( it’d just been that their mannerisms were always laced with anger - slammed doors and obnoxious chews, all of it ). “Absolutely fucking appalling. The audacity,” they played into Abel’s theatrics, tone serious - amused smirk hidden by their bent head. “That’s the fucking - spirit. Fuck the establishment - or fucking, whatever. Shouldn’t care if they don’t.” They slunk across the picnic table - laid across it, practically, to pluck the spoon from Abel’s hand, back of elbows pressed into the table’s edge, now - and stick it into their own mouth.

“Temporarily ripped from me,” he corrected, flashing Viktor a glance over his shoulder. It was paired with narrowed eyes and the spoon pointed in their direction, as if that were threatening in the slightest - as if anything about Abel was threatening. Especially when it was paired with the same automatic and fond grin he had reserved for Viktor, spoon still streaked with pudding, “My parents aren’t gonna find out, I’m taking this to my grave. Our little secret,” Abel insisted, despite being well aware that far more people had heard about their suspension outside of their two person circle. When Viktor crouched across the bench, Abel didn’t even bother to protest when they plucked the spoon from his grasp - even went so far as to hold the dessert out towards them for them to scoop more if they wanted to, like this was normal and eating a cup of pudding was usually a dual effort, “You’re not worried, or anything?” he asked, only capable of keeping up the careless routine for so long, “The Dean sounded kinda pissed - expulsion’s a pretty serious thing to threaten. Your parents know? Our little secret?” Trying to gauge how Viktor felt about it, ready to compile a mental list of things that were for them to discuss, and them only, never to see the light of day if necessary.

mili’s hair was up in the messiest bun humankind had ever seen, her curls usually impossible to tame having resisted the concept of being held in anyway as much as they could, but she’d been trying to study with no success so far and she’d spent the last hour and a half doing things just to try and focus. her hair was off her face, she had classical music on, but none of it was working because anatomy just bored her to death. the knock on her door had her jumping off her bed, desperate for a distraction she couldn’t really afford, and she grinned relieved when she saw it was abel. “i — yeah, i’m free,” she said, looking around at the mess of books and notes she had all over her bed, and then looking back at the candies he’d brought with him. if it was a bribe to get her to stop studying, it was working. “i’m not gonna punch you in the face, but thanks for offering. did someone punch you in the face? i lost track of you for like, two seconds, and you got yourself suspended — maybe we should be literally glued to the hip, you know, might be good for you, i’m a very sensible person.”

“Thanks for not punching me in the face - it was a test, and you passed. Though I’d forgive you for punching me embarrassingly fast,” Nodding enthusiastically, Abel had chomped onto the corner of one of the Skittles bags so he could tear it open, less than gracefully, with his teeth. Had he been in any other company, he probably would’ve taken a less barbaric approach, but Mili’s words had reminded him of half the reason why he’d shown up in the first place. It felt important he get the snacks out quickly for the rest of their conversation, “Very sensible, I agree. That’s a great quality to have - and my roommate is -,” With a pause, Abel realized he was struggling to use the word sensible to describe Noah, “Have you met him? Noah? He’s really nice. And very handsome, don’t you think? You’ve been over when he’s home before, haven’t you?” he asked, holding the baggie towards Mili with an encouraging smile, “Thoughts? Don’t hold anything back, either.”

delilah was so wrapped up in the house of cards she was building (she had bought a hot glue gun which undeniably counted as cheating but refused to feel ashamed) that she’d forgotten abel was coming to visit. her door was unlocked, and when she heard it open she dropped the card she’d been placing on the roof – the three of spades – and glanced up sharply. “oh, hi. i forgot… never mind.” she waved him over to where she was sitting in the middle of the floor. “what do you think? it’s half inspired by frank gehry, half gothic architecture. to be honest i’m only mentioning gehry because it sort of got a bit lopsided at some point and i had to, um, change course.” she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “i found this creepy little– i’ll show you.” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny doll. “looks haunted, don’t you think? so i’m making her a house.” @abelromanov​

“Wow. What’s going on here?” It was routine now, it felt like, for Abel to be surprised with whatever ongoing’s were happening in Delilah’s room - he almost always followed it up with the same question. What’s going on here felt like his version of enthusiastic support. He did enjoy hearing about what she was up to most of the time, automatic fond smile appearing like it usually did when she spoke excitedly. It was better than the alternative, “Frank Gehry’s cool,” he had no clue who that was, “Very creative. I like this part right here,” Pointing out the seven of clubs, Abel realized nothing about the card particularly stood out in design amongst the others, but it felt necessary to compliment something. As he slowly moved to sit, he pressed his lips into a tight line to suppress a groan of protest that threatened to leak out as his knee complained at its overuse - it was never bad when he was finally on the ground, seated with one leg tucked in like he were going to sit cross-legged, but the other, the left, the bad leg, stretched out in front of him, “Lemme see her,” he insisted, attempting to hide that he sounded out of breath just from trying to sit. Holding his hand out expectantly, he smiled as he got a closer look at the doll - Delilah had always seen the world fairly different than he did, pointing at the toy he clutched onto then his sister, “She kinda looks like you - don’t you think? Doesn’t give me too much of a haunted vibe. No more than you do. It’s a healthy amount. Halloween fun amount, instead of, uh... horror movie you can’t sleep after amount.”

For almost an entire day, he drifted in and out of sleep in Len’s bed, watching sunlight cross the room, the shadow following it. As predicted, the crash after Provincetown had been Hindenburg-ian. Six nights of little-to-no sleep. Six days of never fully sobering. It all caught up at once— by the last day, he was like a house slowly losing electricity, all the lights dimming and flickering, barely making it off the bus and onto the first best mattress before going full dark. Lights out. Sleep kept him for twenty-four hours, straight through the sun’s decline and return. Hunger woke him— an ache like someone had vacuumed everything out of him, leaving his stomach a deflated, shrunken pouch. Now it was afternoon, judging from the slant of the light. Marlowe dug himself out from under the duvet and rose for a stretch, groaning, pulling his empty stomach taut to his spine, giving his hair a cursory tousle in the mirror— then he stepped out into the hallway barefoot, in only briefs and the rumpled T-shirt he’d been wearing on the bus, still holding the scent of the beach’s lost sunshine.

He entered the Perkins kitchen with his usual lanky grace, already smiling— but there was no one there to greet, so he just scratched the back of his neck and continued towards the fridge. It swung open with a quiet puckering sound. A can of cold brew was the first thing he grabbed. Chugging it down like a thirsty athlete (coffee was vile, but his blood pressure was barely above a faucet’s leaky dribble; now was not the time to be choosy), he then began a thorough scan of the fridge’s other contents, assessing their potential for breakfast. A Tupperware of cantaloupe slices, far too ripe, sticky juice pooling like syrup at the bottom; a block of cheese labelled on all four sides DO NOT TOUCH!!. He peeled back the Saran and sniffed it anyway— a little funky, but that was probably just how fancy cheese smelled. Maybe it would lend some European sophistication to an otherwise unsophisticated omelette. Finally, a sign of life; footsteps came into the room behind him, and Marlowe glanced over his shoulder with a backward-flung smile. “Morning!” The red digits on the microwave changed with a blink, silently disputing this statement; it was 4:23 PM. “What’s the bare minimum of ingredients you need to make an omelette?” He looked down at the skimpy collection on the counter, frowning: tabasco, the pungent square of cheese. A single egg which had wobbled over against the hot sauce. “I’m not sayin’ I expect the miracle of the loaves and fish, but this just ain’t gonna cut it, y’know? Any chance you have a spare egg on you?” His eyebrows rose along with his gaze, the wide smile hitching to one side. “Or suggestions on how to magic this into somethin’ better?”

@radopens

the last thing on her mind is company. with the halls bouncing off detached voices, the drone of televisions and phone calls alike, her skin crawls. it’s a relief to go unnoticed in the din of moris, hurry along and down the stairwell when footfalls clatter up behind, keep her head down and oddly interested in the dead cockroach with legs upturned in the corner. she’s almost out the door, too, bank notes crinkling in her jeans pocket, until- ‘ ugh. ’ the remark’s under her breath, nearly low enough to be drowned out. she inwardly hopes abel heard it, if only to let her go in peace. june offers a weak shrug. ‘ past your bedtime, huh? ’ it’s a half-hearted jab, one accompanied by a lopsided smile. no excuse would shake him, it seemed. finally she caves, gesturing to the crumpled money unearthed in her palm. ‘ uh, i felt like getting a slurpee. just a cola one, or something. you can walk with me if you want. the 7/11 nearby is pretty good, even if the guy who works nights smells kinda like, um, i dunno. just weird. ’

Even if he’d heard the huff of annoyance from June, Abel would’ve taken it with a grain of salt. It was one of the things he was best at, dodging negative connotations like they were obstacles in a course. If anything, it would’ve fueled him further, already smiling widely as it was at her less enthusiastic remark - if she wasn’t going to be excited, he’d balance it out on his own, “Not much of a point in an early bed time right now. And you’re more entertaining than staring at my ceiling counting sheep,” he pointed out, probably making it obvious then that he was jittery after having nothing really to focus his energy on all day. That, and the multitude of energy drinks he’d consumed in an attempt to figure out which one was his favourite, “Slurpees. Slurpees are good, I can’t remember the last time I had one. I’ll come with, even if the late night guy smells weird. I can drive us, too,” An off handed gesture - his knee was already starting to throb a bit just from the leisurely stroll around Moris, but Abel would never complain about it. There’d still be a disturbingly large smile on his face even if the entire joint popped right out of place, “We’d have to stop by my room, though. To get my keys. Whatever you wanna do, I don’t care. A walk could be nice, weather’s kinda perfect. Never mind - let’s just walk. Fresh air and all that. It’s been proven to be genuinely healthy for you, did you know that?” he asked, as if it weren’t a known fact.

“I’d have to bring Saige, I think. I’d probably go crazy being anywhere without her for too long. And then the Samuels - or, just Viktor and Mili. Viktor’s one of my best friends but they’re also good entertainment. Mili’s just a bit of an angel, I’d forget we’re stranded in the first place ‘cause it’s hard to be upset at all when she’s around.”

“Just once, I think.”

“Uh... Giving up when we were at our best is probably my biggest regret.”