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it’s unsurprising that dallas running late – it’s one of her many bad habits. at least, today she had an excuse. her last appointment at the salon ran far more over time than she anticipated ( a green box dye disaster ), by the time she got home she was meant to meet august at the local bar thirty minutes ago. in a rush, she jogs down the sidewalk. being in crawford for a year, dallas has gotten used to every detail of the neighborhood. leaving her apartment complex and taking a left at the subway a few blocks down. out of habit, she waves at an employee taking his smoke break outside of the restaurant. the same guy she sees every sunday . the strip mall parking lot is filled with familiar cars, parked in their usually spots. the blue suv diane at the dollar tree drives sits next to the rusty pickup truck the laundromat owner drives. it’s all the same. dallas almost takes comfort in that sameness part of her is growing stir crazy with such lack of variety. the moonlight glows above her as she continues her walk. outside of the gas station a few meters from the bar, her feet stop moving. her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach, long before she could realize what she’s even looking at.
she always hated that car’s ugly orange paintjob. it all feels like something out of a bad movie. as if the boy stepping out of the van was moving in slow motion. looking just as he did when they were together. when seeing him might’ve filled her with immense joy rather than dread. she’s speechless. totally frozen in time. maybe she was staring for too long. afterall, it’s not everyday you see an orange van the same make and model as archie’s. or someone who looks exactly archie driving it. all she knows is they’ve locked eyes and her feet are failing her. she can’t run this time. “what in the hell are you doing here?” she isn’t trying to be warm. at this particular moment, dallas wants answers.
In hindsight ... he probably should’ve told her sooner. Announced his presence upon pulling into town. Y’know, as to avoid ... well, this. The current look of shock ( and horror ) twisting Dallas’ features highlighted by the glow of the moonlight above. Not that he can blame her; waiting an entire month is, arguably, insane. Though in his own defense ... there wasn’t ever really an ideal time. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? Turn up on her doorstep and declare his fuckin’ complicated mess of feelings? I know it’s been a year, and I know that we broke up ... but I keep having these dreams about you, and I can’t sleep. And i’ve realized that I made a mistake. And I’ll never pick anyone over you again. Undoubtedly, she would have shut him out; and he wouldn’t have blamed her, because it sounds stupid enough in his own head god forbid he ever think of uttering the words aloud. In truth (although he’d never tell in fear of coming off as some sort of -- fuckin’ stalker, and rightfully so) this isn’t the first time he’s seen Dallas since arriving. Fueled by liquid courage, he’d sought her out nearly once every week with the intent of telling her : This doesn’t have to mean anything, he wanted to tell her, but i’m here and i’m sorry. And I miss you. The mere sight of her alone causing Archie to falter each time; causing fear and regret to curl and twist into a sickly sort of knot lodged in the pit of his stomach. Though, this time? No longer separated by a pane of glass, Dallas stares back. Years of history flooding to the forefront of his mind.
And Archie feels like a fucking idiot.
What in the hell are you doing here? She demands, her tone leaving no room for excuses. Though Archie continues to stand wordlessly for one beat, two beats, three beats more -- a warm breeze drifting by lifting his helplessly disheveled hair from his forehead before he manages to rake a hand through in a futile attempt to wrangle the curls into submission. He glances over his shoulder towards the bar; the weight of the Dream Machine’s (as he fondly referred to his van in order to make Dallas laugh) heavy metal door grounding Archie to the moment. With that, he allows it to slam shut. “I was thinking of getting a drink,” He carefully replies as he steps onto the sidewalk; and he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets with an air of ease. He’d give just about anything to see her smile. “... First one’s on me. Bourbon sour, right? More bourbon than sour...”
sitting on her usual barstool , lucia drummed her fingers against the bar as she waited for her drink. sure, she shouldn’t be spending this money as she needed it for rent - but, she’d been receiving messages from her parents and she really needed to let loose. taking the drink from the barman, with a simple flirtatious glance - she was actually able to get that drink for free & if she kept this up, she would hopefully not have to take out her purse at all that evening. the blonde rested the straw from her lips between her rose tinted lips and sipped on her cuba libra, letting a low and satisfied hum rumble in the back of her throat. “ fuck that’s good. ” @archiefms
“That’ll be ... ten dollars ---” The bartender declares as he slides the glass across the freshly washed bar top. And Archie can’t help but stare incredelously -- because while the beer is much needed (something craft, yet still managing to taste only slightly better than piss) under no circumstances should the lukewarm beverage cost nearly so much. Perhaps, if the atmosphere were better (rather than smoke filled and dingy); though, Archie comes to the sudden realization that he could be drinking cheap beer for free in the privacy of his own apartment. Not to mention that he literally just witnessed the girl to the left get her cuba libra for nothing more than a flirtatious smile. He sends her a glance. “--- Put it on her tab,” Archie drawls sardonically. “Another smile should cover this, yeah? -- What does she get if she flutters her eyelashes?” With that, Archie mutters beneath his breath, “Fuckin’ creep ..”
The best thing about his job? The silence; the deafening, prolonged, sweet silence. The bookshop on Elm relatively forgotten (or so it appears to Archie) allowing him the freedom to lounge against a bookshelf at any given hour ... reading Baldwin in favor of getting any actual work done. A stale cup of coffee cooling at his side. Luckily, old Mrs. Langley doesn’t seem to mind; truthfully, she’d seemed surprised when he’d requested a job to begin with. “We don’t get many customers these days,” She’d explained hesitantly, “What with all the social media. Your generation would prefer to twitter than read a classic, it seems.” Archie being the exception, of course. Though, he keeps busy all the same ... alphabetizing, and dusting, and rearranging the aisles; occasionally, making Mrs. Langley lunch when her hip begins to particularly ache (the old woman living just above the store.) And though he’s only just convinced the woman that payment in the form of butterscotch candy is not acceptable ... it’s the ideal work environment. Archie often preferring solitude. Which is why he all but jumps (understandably so) as he’s suddenly face to face with another; his first logical thought going to ghosts. Though, he supposes a customer would make more sense. “Shit --” Archie swears eloquently, his coffee cup tipping as he attempts to scramble up from the floor; a brown puddle beginning to form beneath his feet. And with that, he cards a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Fuck. Can I --- sorry. Can I help you?” He questions. “Haven’t had to do this whole -- customer service thing yet. So, y’know. Excuse the --” Archie trails off with a glance over his shoulder. “Anyways. Were you looking for anything specific?” He pauses. “-- If you’re here about the late bills, Mrs. Lang swore she’d mail the money in by Tuesday.”
in reality, sofia was just wasting time. she had really been pregaming while working and didn’t see herself leaving her house. of course as soon as archie extended his invitation, not that she ever needed it, the brunette was ready to drive over. did she speed to make it in time before he fell asleep? probably, but that wasn’t too important. after about ten minutes, the girl had parked in front and was already knocking on the door before peaking her head in, “archie! honey, i’m home,” already letting herself in, making her way to the couch.
@archiefms
“Archie! Honey, I’m home,” Sofia calls into the apartment (the door left open for her connivence). And Archie briefly looks up from his phone in order to beckon the other inside. Not that she needs the direction -- really, they should just get the girl a fuckin’ key at this point. Or, at the very least, start charging her rent. “-- In here!” He hollers in return. And in favor of scrolling mindlessly through instagram, Archie tosses his phone aside with a prolonged sigh in favor of rolling in the direction of his nightstand ... a perfectly rolled blunt produced after a bit of riffling through his drawer. Honestly, the craftsmanship? Impeccable. Seriously, he should go into business for this shit. With that, he places the tip between his lips; his lazy gaze settling on Sofia as she appears in the doorway. “Took you long enough,” He comments offhandedly as he lights the end with ease; a healthy plume of smoke filling the space in the next beat as he exhales happily. And he extends it in her direction, his eyebrows lifting. “I’ve already got Tangled queued up and everything -- August came in, and I looked like a fuckin’ idiot. What grown man watches Rapunzel by himself? You’ve made a fool out of me,” Archie jokes lightly.
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“do you happen to have a lighter?” nate’s tone was soft, and his voice groggy and almost weak, making it clear that he was exhausted. as if his slightly narrowed eyes and very noticeable bags weren’t enough to give it away. he had just finished a long shift. and today was pay day. so where did he go first while walking home from work? the local convenience store to purchase himself a well deserved packet of cigarettes. he hadn’t had them in so long. he needed it. “don’t worry, it’s not as if i’ll steal it. and…i’ll even offer you a smoke?” he flicked open the packet with a single, swift movement, holding up the box for the other.
The offer is tempting; and despite the way Archie craves a cigarette (like the fucking addict he’s become. Honestly, who would’ve guessed that picking up a cigarette at the ripe age of fourteen would’ve tainted the entirety of his adulthood?) he’s been attempting to quit. A longing sort of look spared in the direction of the proffered pack. And Archie exhales shakily. “Eh --- I‘ve been trying not to carry one on me,” He explains after a beat, regret coloring his tone. “Kinda kills the urge, y’know?” With that, he juts his chin in the direction of the connivence store; the bricked building beginning to sag and deteriorate after years of standing on that exact corner. “Bet I could talk Harv into a loan, though,” Archie drawls in suggestion as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. He offers a shrug. “He’s been teaching me Italian --” He begins. And by teaching Archie means that Harv often yells in accusation “What the fuck do you mean you don’t speak the mother language! Testa di merda!” Archie smirks. “So I guess you could say that we’ve kinda got a relationship of sorts. Not a bad dude -- at the very least, he’d give you a discount.”
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[ alex fitzalan, he/him, 24 ] did you see ARCHIE MCMILLAN ? looking as broke as ever. rumor has it HE is usually IMPULSIVE and SELF INVOLVED but is also known to be INDEPENDENT and CHARISMATIC. we’ll see about that. they kind of remind me of damp asphalt after a summer storm , coming to a screeching halt, and using duct tape for all problems . maybe because they’re a PISCES. they’ve been living around here for 1 MONTH. i wonder when they’ll make it out… [ em, 23, she/her, pst ]
hellooooo fellas !! if you would like to plot out any connections pls feel free to hit me up either on here or discord <3 I am down to clown lkjslf
aesthetics : damp asphalt after a summer storm , coming to a screeching halt , using duct tape for all problems , the eerie silence of a graveyard .
faceclaim : alex fitzalan .
ii . BIOGRAPHY .
he’s in the second grade when he’s first told that his family is poor , and it isn’t until fifth grade that archie begins to understand it himself . with hair long and curly , untamed like ocean waves , and clothing tainted with the stench of second - hand smoke and mildew , his teachers begin to take notice . in sixth grade , his name is called over the intercom and his classmates holler and cackle and point their fingers at him like he’s some sort of animal in a cage , but he manages to get out of the classroom before bursting into tears on his way to the counselor’s office . she sits him down the way your parents sit you down before they tell you awful news , but she tells him she’s only here to help , and if he could just tell her why he wears the clothes he wears and if his house has plumbing and if his parents ever hit him . he speaks , tells her he doesn’t know , yes , and no , but he must have told her something she wanted to hear , because her eyes widen and she tells him to continue . my father , he tells her , chain - smokes cigarettes in the car , in the house , sometimes blows the smoke in my face to make my mother laugh . by eighth grade , his father’s out of the picture , but his clothing still reeks of cigarette smoke and mildew , and though his hair is shorter , it’s greasy and freckled with white flakes . his mother hardly speaks to him, and that would bother him, but , he realizes , she doesn’t speak much at all after his father left .
by high school , he’s learned to shower at friends’ houses and learned to wash his own clothing at laundromats , and though the mildew stench is gone , his clothes now take on a different aroma . cigarettes , cheap beer , weed , and axe body spray . he’s not entirely fond of the smell of body spray , but it’s all he can afford , even after a summer mowing lawns around town . in junior year , he begins to take his schooling more seriously , finds himself immersed in textbooks and novels and documentaries in the late hours of the night . but , by the time second semester rolls around , he’s immersed in something else , someone else , a person who changes his viewpoint on the ideologies of love . her name is bonnie , a bright soul , rich in spirit and in wealth , a person who opens his eyes to the world of luxuries . he’s nineteen when they officially begin dating , a cat and mouse game played throughout the years they spent as friends , and though she’s a few years older , she doesn’t treat him like he’s naive . she’s open to him about everything , about her illness , about her wealth , about her motives . she leaves everything to him after her death , an ending they both saw coming all too well after her years battling cancer . money , a house , a car , a job with her father’s company – if archie’d only take it . he gives the money to a local hospital , sells the house and gives that money to his mother , but he keeps the car because the inside smells like her , smells like warmth and embers and leather and entirely bonnie .
he spends his time now working at the local bookshop now , and if he’s not clocked in , he’s sitting against its shelves rereading bukowski or baldwin , a cup of coffee nestled comfortably between his thighs . he’d gone to college for a semester , but dropped out once he realized he didn’t need a degree in order to get educated , and why should he waste money he doesn’t have to get a degree he probably won’t want ? he thinks often of his father and of bonnie and of his mother , who moved to florida with the house money . of other loves, as well -- more recent ones. a girl who somehow managed to climb into his head without knocking and fix herself in like a map pin. he wonders why people always leave , but perhaps he won’t ever discover the answer to that question , and , sometimes on his darkest days , he thinks the answer might be himself .
iii . DISPOSITION / PERSONALITY .
often gets told by elders that he’s an ‘ old soul ’ , but just thinks that’s a polite way of telling him he’s a bit darker , a bit out of place , especially in comparison to his peers . definitely has a darker sense of humor and oftentimes uses sarcasm and is known to be quite vulgar at times , especially if he’s under the influence . can be relatively meticulous , especially when it comes to reading – takes his time to underline words or phrases , likes writing in the margins . can be somewhat critical of others , and can be quite cynical at times , especially in terms of friendships and relationships . often has to question if feelings are genuine , both his own and other people’s , and definitely has abandonment issues . is both patient and impatient in the sense that he can be patient to see his mother after years of not seeing her , but is impatient that his water is taking too long to boil . is evasive , especially – but not only – when it comes to relationships or questions about himself , but is alluring enough for people to want to know more about him , he supposes . archie’s just … an overall darker personality , really .
iv . HEADCANONS .
1 . has definitely bought an old television at some point just so he could smash it with a baseball bat . it’s not that he’s fueled by anger or that he’s a generally angry person , because he’s not . it’s just that , sometimes , his emotions become all - consuming .
2 . enjoys buying vinyls and cd’s and will sometimes put on a record in the middle of the day at the highest volume and just kind of lay on his couch , smoke a couple cigarettes , and listen intently .
3 . has a wonderful relationships with books and spends a majority of his time reading and underlining and jotting notes down in the margins of books . books are , quite honestly , the only thing that has ever been a constant for him .
4 . drinks / smokes / drugs : yes , like a chimney , yes .
5 . is known to make cd mixtapes for people . also playlists on occasion .
6 . skateboards around town often despite owning a car .
7 . journals and wanted to attend college for english and creative writing .
8 . has a complicated relationship with sleep to the point that he either sleeps far too much or far too little .
9 . favorite book : giovanni’s room , things fall apart , the great gatsby , 1984 .
10 . favorite song : asleep by the smiths , just like heaven by the cure , arabella by arctic monkeys , let’s dance to joy division by the wombats .
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