way down we go

    The one thing that Gwen found comfort in sometimes when it came to having a moment of high stress, was the comfort of being lost in a crowd. Perhaps if she hadn’t been hanging onto sheets of cabin assignments for the students around her, she’d have gotten away with more anonymity but alas, every time she thought she could glower in peace, another person approached her for a handout. Eventually, she’d come to the conclusion she would have to freak out later, in private, like always.

    When her name hit her ears, however, Gwen’s initial reaction was delayed. Not because she didn’t hear it, but mostly because she wasn’t used to responding to it much anymore. Ben didn’t call out to her in the dining hall these days, Damian didn’t say her name the same way he used to whenever he was talking her down from being hyper nuts about something either. Jocelyn didn’t scream it with laughter at something Gwen hadn’t even really intended to be funny, so if it wasn’t coming directly from her parents or teachers, Gwen could easily say she wasn’t used to hearing it much anymore. Still, she finally pivoted after a moment of recollection and saw Ezra. If she hadn’t felt odd or uneasy before, well she truly felt it now.

    “Um. Pretty decent,” She lied easily, looking down at the papers in her hands and wondering how on Earth he thought it was worthwhile to just randomly talk to her like it meant anything. Sure, he’d frightened her half to death a few months ago but that had just been something… unlucky and fleeting. Like a drunken kiss at a party, some kind of twist of fate, it happened, but it didn’t mean anything so she wasn’t going to talk about it. Just like how she wasn’t going to talk about the fact she had no friends and it felt pathetically good to be sought out of a crowd by somebody, even if that somebody wasn’t quite who you hoped it would be.

    “I’ve got a terrible list of people in my cabin, though. Yours might be…” She plucked a paper off the top of the stack and glanced over it, searching for Ezra’s name until she found it, then looked at the list of roommates he had to share a cabin with. A small hint of a smile touched her face, “Well… better, depending on which way you look at it.” McKay, Foster, and Butler were a match made in Hell in Gwen’s opinion, but she suspected Ezra could probably guess as much. “Here.” She offered it to him to see for himself.

Ezra gave a nod, teeth pinching the inside of his bottom lip. Was there another way to respond to ‘pretty decent?’ Better question, was there any correct way to respond to Gwen Prescott? Despite other’s claims of her consistency ( consistent bitchiness to be precise ), Ezra found her to be the exact opposite. She had always been unpredictable – a meek, lost freshman terrified of ghost stories, a merciless social-climber, a house captain who was equally as capable of feigning kindness as she was perpetuating cruelty, and now? Ezra would never claim that she was slipping. Even thinking it felt like bad luck. It was the equivalent of trash-talking the spirit of a haunted house; he didn’t want to invoke that level of wrath into his life. But it was clear she walked alone more often now than she had since he’d first met her. 

The paper found its way into his hands. He grimaced. Faith wasn’t bad. He’d known her since they were small, she, him, and Damian being a trio at the Fitzgerald family parties. Time had changed things and Faith’s breed of kindness could be…a lot. But there were worse things. Like being trapped with Jay Foster and Jocelyn Butler. Jay wasn’t the problem. Drea Pearson on the other hand… He resisted the urge to crumple up the paper. It was debatable of Jocelyn was the more egregious offender. She’d once taken pleasure in taunting him. Although he’d heard rumors she was trying to change her ways, Ezra had his doubts. He shoved the list in his satchel. “Define better.” He said it with a faint outline of a wry smile. It felt odd to joke with her. Like he was breaking some unspoken rule.

He wasn’t naive enough to believe what happened at the pool magically made them friends. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be friends with someone like Gwen Prescott. She was the kind of person who snapped at Casey and Conny, who bemoaned the existence of BAU. For all he knew, she’d turn around and twist this conversation into another blistering rumor.

@bergmanns·

Casey sighed as she moved around the old television in the main lodge, trying to understand how it worked and considering the idea that if she whined enough, it might just miraculously come to life and somehow have Netflix pre-installed. “Why is it so fat?” she asked nobody in particular, thinking out loud. She’d never seen a television that wasn’t a flat screen before, this thing looked like something straight out of a 90s movie set. She gave up all hope that the television would provide any source of entertainment unless they threw it out the window and turned back to Ezra, defeated, “Wanna go sit on the bridge and throw rocks?” she suggested. Sure, it wasn’t the most intellectual activity a teenager could waste their time on but in her defense, it was pretty hard to come up with something to do without Wi-Fi.

Ezra gave a grunt as he pulled and Casey pushed, wedging the tv out from its dark corner so he could look at the tangle of wires behind it. There were antennas, which led him to believe there was some kind of signal for television to receive. Like a radio or something. But it wasn’t like there was a cable box nearby. The tv fed straight into the wall. He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “I think we need a VHS or something.” He’d only owned a few as a kid. Just a couple of Disney movies that were eventually replaced with blue-ray DVDs, eventually abandoned for online streaming services. He wasn’t even sure he could name a movie he’d know with any certainty would be on VHS. Scooby-Doo? He snickered at her complaints, placing a hand on either side of the TV as though covering its ears. “Shhh. you’re gonna hurt her feelings. She’s thick, okay?” He dropped his arms, stuffing his hands in his pockets. While throwing rocks wasn’t exactly how he’d like to spend his afternoon, they didn’t have many other options. And the bridge did look kind of cool. If he brought his sketchpad along he might get some neat drawings out of it. “Sure. Whoever throws the shortest pays for gas next time we have to take a day trip out of here?”

 @ba-central

{ LOCATION: camp entry }

  Being a House Captain felt somewhat like being a public figure sometimes. Because as Gwen’s insides curdled with disgust and loathing towards the ruins of her woodland lodging for the next unforeseeable future, her peripherals caught the sight of students fresh off of busses and out of parental Hondas, staring at her, clearly processing her reaction as it happened on her face. Quickly, Gwen snapped herself out of it. Throwing her shoulders back, lips tightening, nose high; she exhaled decisively and set off with feeling in her new NikeCourts towards the Retreat Hall on a mission to help with lodging arrangements as instructed by the sisters. 

    Though even as she pushed through the door of the camp hall everyone was supposed to be assembling in, the shock felt at home on her expression once again. It looked uncomfortably empty despite the few groups of students that were starting to mill around while Sister Michael looked visibly tense among select other staff. If that wasn’t uncomfortable enough to look at, then the damp smell of soil and neglect that filled her nose made her wish she’d skipped breakfast. After all judgment though, Gwen was mostly taken with the sight of old plastic chairs she’d rather die than sit on with clean pants and one crack in the ceiling, in particular, that was absolutely growing something out of it. Was this it? Was this as good as it got for the next…. how many weeks? She felt a slow unease settle between her shoulders, fingers slackening around papers that Sister Keough had given her upon arrival in terms of helping students find their beds for the night. Gwen had never been God-fearing… but Good Lord would she be learning to pray to get through this one, she thought.

Crowds had never been Ezra’s thing. He dreaded the mandatory orientation that occurred at the beginning of every academic school year, long lines for manila folders containing keycards, class schedules and roommate assignments. There was too much noise, too many bodies. He always found himself scrunching up, shrinking his already lithe frame down as though he might fold up and disappear entirely. Even in a room filled with people he’d known for years, especially in a room filled with people he’d known for years, Ezra’s nerves were high enough to punch a hole through the ( probably ) mildew infested ceiling. Strange, how the inside fo a place could smell damper than the outside of one. As he waited in line for his room assignment, he took the particular shade of brown of the wooden building, the splits in the aged fibers and earthy stains of green...growth. It seemed like a health hazard if he was being honest, but also something he’d enjoy painting. He wanted to try and pull that rich scent through the texture. Touch it. Give it an unspoken name. 

It was the best solution to being forced to avoid awkward eye contact with a legion of his peers -- finding a way to make art out of something. A figure strode by, carrying with it a scent Ezra never knew he’d find familiar. For a moment he was there, locked in to the damp scent of moss, wood and too many bodies. The next he was sprawled out on cold, hard tile, choking on the scent of chlorine and undertones of Gwen Prescott’s... perfume? lotion? He didn’t know.

All he knew was he’d called out her name without meaning to. A gesture no one else would have batted an eye at felt like a transgression to Ezra. As if he’d stepped out of his designated square, daring to occupy a space that didn’t belong to him. His posture shifted, awkward and uncomfortable, as he always was whenever he felt like he was the center of attention. He shifted the strap of his satchel, at a loss for words. He hadn’t really spoken to her since that night, preferring to bury its existence rather than face the humiliating reality of what had happened. Yet here they were, Ezra blundering his way through a conversation he hadn’t intended to begin and had no idea how to navigate. “Uh. Hey. How’s it...going?”

meet ezra  

( tw: suicide, depression, anxiety, bullying )

smile spread widely on connor’s features when he was handed a helmet, the nickname on the front making him even more excited for their little adventures. “ oh fuck yeah, dude, ” he enthused, tossing the helmet over in his hands to get a better look for a second before he put the thing on top of his floppy hair. under usual circumstances he would have waited until the were closer to the woods. but with the pool party going on, he imagined that anyone that was going to come out of their dorms this late was already at the pool. 

“ sure did, ” he chimed, patting the backpack hanging from his shoulder as if the assure ezra that he’d packed it in his bag. he thought about taking it out now, but then it would just take them longer to get to lorehill. what with all the unpacking and repacking of the camera. he figured “ it’s gonna be wicked, ” he said, hand wrapping around the strap of his back as he stepped aside for ezra to actually leave his dorm and for them to be on their way. “ i did a couple test runs with it the other night– obviously it’s not like high quality and like, can’t do long distance or anything crazy. but it looked so cool, everything in black and green and stuff. ” he said, starting to walk down the hall, voice quiet but not as quiet as it usually would be because again, he just had elevated confidence that they wouldn’t be caught because there was the perfect distraction going on.

when he opened the dormitory building door, he stopped his loud mouth for a second and stuck his head out. looking all around to be sure the coast was clear before the rest of his lanky body followed his head out the door, holding it open for ezra behind him. he waited for it to close behind them, before he asked “ so this is where she took the bodies you said? ” he questioned, hand wrapping around the strap of his bag again as they walked, eager for more of the details ezra had scarcely given over text hours prior.

Oh, dude. It fit perfectly. Giddy and eager, Ezra pulled his own helmet over his beanie, too long hair hanging loosely over his shoulders. It was a snug fit, but he couldn’t deny he felt cool. Professional. He almost wanted to ask Conny if he wanted to take a picture to commemorate their first real investigation. The suggestion rose to his lips but faltered. Ezra shifted and adjusted the strap securing his helmet. It felt as if Conny were somehow privy to his private wishes and anxieties, even if more often than not, Conny was oblivious to most things going on around him. Instead of asking, Ezra settled for a fist bump, the weight of his phone heavy in his back pocket.

“Totally.” Ezra nodded in agreement. He couldn’t wait to see the rig unloaded. It was almost torture knowing their newest, greatest tool was right there, but he couldn’t see it yet. Not only would it be helpful seeing what the boys couldn’t in the dark, but it would also make it easier for Ezra, Conny and the rest of BAU to look over footage. See things they’d missed the night of, listen for undetected audio, the works. If this camera worked well, Ezra was considering saving up for one himself. Maybe something smaller, one he could easily attach to his helmet. It wasn’t like he wanted to go all Ghost Adventures on him, but Ezra thought it might be a good idea to film the process just as much as they filmed the investigation. He didn’t want to breathe life into the notion that they could make any kind of meaningful documentary about the weird shit that went down at Broadripple, but there was a lingering whisper of maybe.

But that was probably stupid. Just as stupid as his first idea he’d wanted to suggest to Conny - a weekly podcast run by BAU with a rotating cover story and weekly updates on the investigation.

Ezra locked his bedroom door, securing his lanyard in the chest pocket of his jacket. “It’s great, Conny. The colors are...sick.” He tested out the term.

His board had been stored away for the winter, either resting against his desk or on his legs as he painted a new design on its belly. But now the clouds were clear enough to see slivers of blue cushioned between the clouds and the snow had melted away just enough to leave the playground of Broadripple’s back stairwell clear for skating. It was against the rules to skate on campus, but Ezra found that people rarely populated the back staircase. To anyone else, all it had was a pretty dismal view of a soccer field and the outcrop of trees behind a fence. But to Ezra there was a plethora of rails, stairs, and stretches of pavement for him to explore.

He wound up for a kickflip, board spinning beneath his feet before the wheels clapped back down on the pavement. He careened, nearly tipping over before he righted his balance. Ezra laughed for what felt like the first time in ages.

casey: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR WHAT THE FUCK???

casey: omggg im so jealous of you guys i was legit just telling griffin about it

casey: also side note...griffin is here?? lmao what a plot twist he's actually not a total asshole

casey: are you guys coming to the pool at all?? we have personalised cups (normal for a party?? not sure??) so i cant get you a drink but iw anna see you

ezra: it's totally legit. i'm pretty sure we can use it to find where the bodies were found

ezra: really? i didn't know he partied

ezra: i didn't know you partied tbh. are you having fun?

ezra: idk i'm not a very good swimmer and the bbc will be there so :/

ezra: new lead on the edith lynch case!!!

ezra: i found a testimonial in some old records

ezra: one of her old classmates

@bergmanns·

even on a good week it would have taken some serious convincing to get conny to go to a bbc party. it would have taken a miracle to convince him to go to a bbc pool party. but unfortunately, not going, and looking at people’s instagram stories by himself, in his room, while his own freaking uptight roommate was at the party would have been majorly depressing. so when ezra offered up an idea for an alternate sort of night, conny lept on the opportunity immediately. bbc could have their party, he was going ghost hunting, baby. zak bagans watch the fuck out. 

pulling backpack from under his bed he dumped out all his class things on his bed. notebooks, loose papers, a few pens, and a heavy history textbook that gave an especially loud flop. in their place he filled the backpack with his best gear, which was really all dodgey as hell and thriving on one star reviews on amazon. digital recorder, spirit box, one of those laser temperature guns that were supposed to be used for cooking but conny had found worked alright for cold spots too, and finally, his most prized and most expensive piece of ghost hunting equipment ( $120 on craigslist, an absolute steal if you asked him ) a camcorder that had night vision capabilities. before leaving dorm he also pulled on black hoodie and well worn converse, slinging backpack over one shoulder as he made his way out of the dorm. 

in some ways he was grateful for the pool party. no one was gonna give a shit about him and ezra sneaking out to the woods if most of the school was doing something way more dangerous and completely illegal. two excited raps on ezra’s door. sometimes he wondered when ezra would get sick of him and his enthusiastic energy. but he wasn’t thinking that right now. right now he was just thinking about the message ezra had sent before they’d organised all this. a new lead on the edith lynch case, or at the very least, new information. “ you ready to go? ” he asked when door opened, feeling pretty lucky that it’d actually been ezra that answer and not his roommate because conny certainly hadn’t waited long enough to really know.

Ezra had it all ( mostly ) figured out. While everyone else had run off the pool to get drunk and probably get detention once Broadripple’s staff inevitably found the wreckage left in the wake of the party, Ezra had been studying. It wasn’t his botany homework or his textbooks that had captured his attention. It was the luminescent glow of his computer screen, vibrant with potentially cancerous blue light and a new lead on the Edith Lynch Case. He’d recently uncovered a new testimonial from one of Edith’s former classmates, reported as a friend in the old PDF copy of an interview he’d found in the District’s online database of public records. His corneas ached from the strain of his focus, but the burst of excitement he’d felt at the discovery was far more important than any damage his eyes had taken from the hours he’d spent digging for this. Not only did the report provide new information on Edith’s changed behavior before the attack, but it also included precise descriptions of where she’d drug the bodies.

So of course, Ezra immediately texted Conny. In the meantime, he’d stuffed his satchel with the essentials of every paranormal investigation: two headlamps, a hand-held digital audio recorder, a ouija board and planchette, and a compiled folder of all his evidence, complete with color-coded tabs. Truthfully, Conny had most of the legit equipment. Ezra’s forte had always been the research, pouring over books, generating lists of symptoms of demonic possession, cases of psychotic breakdowns and analyzing how they related to the case.

Once his supplies were packed securely, Ezra tugged on his jacket, wrapping a scarf around his neck and securing a beanie over his head. He’d pulled his satchel over his head as he heard a knock at his door.

An eager smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. It was rare Ezra felt excited or confident about anything, let alone both at the same time. When he opened the door and saw Conny standing in front of him, clad in all his ghost-hunting gear like a complete and utter badass, he smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. He held out Conny’s helmet, carefully labeled “Con-Man” with masking tape and blue sharpie. “Yeah, totally.” He glanced at Conny’s hands. “Did you bring the camera?” he asked eagerly. It was the first time they’d be breaking it out for one of their investigations.

“Uh, wrong. It’s empowering, dude. It’s the whole… ‘my body, my rules’ thing. It’s actually messed up of you to say it’s not hot and those are facts.” Charlie had no idea what he was talking about. He parroted a Facebook post one of his female friends had shared once, something he’d skimmed only because it had been accompanied by a picture of a topless woman at a protest. Charlie would read most things that came with boobs attached. 

When Ezra continued, it was clear he was far more comfortable discussing horror movies than girls. That was fine. Charlie assumed as much. He preferred art house films himself, but horror movies bordered on surrealism anyway so he could dig it.

“Did you see Midsommar?” he asked. “Bruh that shit was mind-blowing. Literally.” That was generally what Charlie liked. Something so fucked up it took you a week to recover and figure out what it all meant. He wasn’t sure he knew anyone that would be down to re-enact it though.

“We need a leading lady,” he suggested. “No one’s gonna watch it if it’s a sausage fest. I could ask Kat but I don’t know if she’d dig being in front of the camera like that. Maybe Casey? You could ask Casey. Bet she’d do it if it’s for her bro’s club, right?” 

“Uh--” Ezra felt trapped in this conversation, any route of potential ‘escape’ feeling just as awkward and uncomfortable as the last. He didn’t want to be...disempowering to women, but he also definitely didn’t want to be talking about pornography in the middle of a public place. “Idunnomanwhatever.” He dismissed the subject entirely, choosing to instead barrel headfirst into the topic he could manage to talk about before catapulting into cardiac arrest. Horror movies.

“Yeah, I did.” Ezra leaned into the subject. “I thought it was super cool that they subverted so many tropes. Like their use of light and color was awesome. Super disorienting.”

“I think Casey did like... a stand-up comedy routine once.” He admitted. He was pretty sure he might have heard Conny mention something like it. Maybe it had been a theater production. He wasn’t entirely sure. And Casey was definitely better than being forced to work on a project with Kat. Painting Drea had been enough for Ezra and he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing what Thing 2 would hurl his way. “I’ll text her.” He did it right away, pulling his phone out of his pocket and shooting off the message. 

“It’s character building,” she mused, trying to sound like an obnoxious staffer attempting to spin blatant bullying into some sort of formative experience for personal growth and individual betterment. Yeah right.

She chuckled and smile proudly at Ezra’s reaction to her claim, it was indeed true and now she had all the more reason to boast about it if Ezra was impressed. “What can I say? I have the natural aura of a swamp-dwelling child of the bayou,” she puffed up her chest and straightened her posture with pride, “Possibly the body odor?” she joked, pinching at the underarm of her school shirt and giving it a light sniff. A moment after she had a fleeting thought about the possibility that making body odor jokes at her own expense might have been precisely the reason that Ezra had no idea that she was totally crushing on him. Perhaps that was for the best though.

“Uh,” she wasn’t sure how to answer that. On the one hand, there had been a distinct look of horror in Maria’s eyes when Casey assumed the banner had been a gay pride thing. On the other hand, Maria looked that way a lot whenever Casey spoke and perhaps it was just her midwestern accent and the fact that she spoke very quickly and often covered a lot of inappropriate topics in an uncomfortably short span of time, regardless of who she was talking to. “Maybe,” she decided, eventually. “-but only in like a, it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve kind of way,” she conceded, “I don’t think she even knows what homophobia really is,” she didn’t think Maria was cruel or ignorant, just conservative or something like that.

She nodded her head to confirm the fact, it was absolutely her magnum opus- as long as you could have more than one of those because eventually, she would pen a screenplay, either a limited series or a feature film about all of the stupid shit she had to endure at school and that too would be considered a masterful work of art. “-who should I get to do the audiobook?” she questioned curiously. She had some ideas, as long as John Travolta was still alive and remained somewhat capable of reading by the time she got around to actually publishing her works. 

She shook her head, “The live-action one- which one is the anime one?” that sounded a lot cooler. Not that the live-action one wasn’t already saved in her ‘to-watch’ list but it wouldn’t hurt to add another version to it as well, particularly if it was one that Ezra had already seen and could recommend to her. “This one has Dracula facing off against Van Helsing’s descendants, I think it’s only a couple of episodes long- do you want to check it out after this?” like in a not-date way because it wouldn’t be a date, it would just be hanging out, unless Ezra thought it was a date because then by all accounts, it met the criteria of a date and they could totally discuss the possibility of it being an official, registered first date.

Ezra snickered. He was equally amused by Casey’s goofy gestures as he was by her words. As someone who felt as awkward as he did when he was simply existing, any attempts he made at ‘displayed’ humor always felt stiff and uncomfortable, like trying to force a jointless doll to bend its arms and legs. “It’s your natural musk,” he joked along. Although he honestly felt like Casey smelled pretty good. She smelled like...girl. Nothing strong. He couldn’t put a name to the scent, only that it was Casey and it was nice.

“Oh,” Ezra nodded along. He understood what she meant, although the line between the two was often blurred for him. His own family was conservative. They had rigid, uncompromising beliefs he didn’t agree with. Most of his family did. His brother had been one of the strongest perpetrators of such beliefs and it had been the source of unspoken tension between them for years. Having any dissenting opinion about religion in his family often resulted in a blow-out argument, so Ezra preferred to just not talk about it. In theory, he knew people like Casey were referring to existed, he’d overheard plenty of conversations in Broadripple’s hallway and when he went to Church to appease his mother, he just had sparse examples of them illustrated in his personal life. But he trusted her judgment, so he relinquished his own over Maria. “Makes sense.” 

Ezra pulled his notebook into his lap, flipping to a blank page as he listened to her. He began to etch a few lines on the blank page, no particular image in mind. He was simply the kind of person who needed something to occupy his hands. “Um...” he laughed at the list of actors who came to his mind. “You know that guy from The Room. You know the-” he clenched a fist to demonstrate, “You’re-Tearing-Me Apart-Lisa-Guy?” He immediately felt embarrassed by the gesture and of himself, resorting to pushing a strand of hair behind his ear, as though the movement could somehow also push away the general state of awkwardness he was constantly trapped by. “I feel like he could really...” he nodded, searching for the right words. The cool words. "Get it."

Idiot.

“It’s called Castlevania.” His nerves faded more quickly when the subject turned away from himself. It was much easier talking about anything that didn’t feel so directly related to himself and his opinions. “It’s about Dracula basically swearing revenge this group of people who falsely accused his wife of witchcraft and burned her at the stake for it.” Ezra was completely oblivious to any notion that Casey was remotely interested in him, let alone any girl for that matter. But he liked Casey. She was funny and he enjoyed spending time with her almost much as he liked hanging out with Conny. “It sounds cool. I’d be down. Did you wanna invite the club?” Ezra personally preferred smaller groups. Too many people got overwhelming, but Conny and Casey... maybe even Wendy would work.

conny nodded as he listened to the list of schools ezra was considering. he didn’t recognise them, save for yale, really. and the assumption that new york’s school of visual arts was a school within nyu or something of the likes. though he didn’t recognise them all, quietly the californian film schools he’d been thinking about got a quick cross off the list. he didn’t like the west coast anyway, not that he’d ever been but he’d decided he was much better up north. hopefully not wisconsin, but like, chicago, new york city, boston even, maybe toronto or vancouver. unless getting a canadian visa would be too hard. then fuck that.

though, in truth, unless he got some sort of scholarship, college probably wasn’t for him. he didn’t see the sense of putting himself in debt, because he surely would, for a piece of paper that said he’d talked about films for four years. “ oh yeah– i don’t know. nyu, there’s one in chicago that looked alright, ” he trailed off there. it wasn’t much of a secret that the roberts twins weren’t exactly as financially stable as some of their classmates, but it still felt weird to bring up. so he didn’t, instead posing his lack of interest in college as just that: a lack of interest. “ i don’t even know if i’ll go. i mean, it’d probably make things easier, you know, open a few doors or whatever, ” he crossed arms over his chest, hand wrapping around his bicep, or scrawny noodle arm where bicep should have been. then lifted shoulders in a quick shrug. “ but yeah, i don’t know. i’d kinda rather just get right into it, even if it means p.a.-ing for free for indie films no one’s gonna see or give a shit about. ” he chuckled, he’d much rather do that than pay to sit in some classroom. even if it would be harder. 

“ fuck yeah, ” he enthused, sword and scale wasn’t one of the podcasts he listened too relgiously but he had listened to one or two. “ it’s fucked, ” he agreed, a sort of reverence to his voice. in truth it was a part of true crime that he really tried not to think about too much, or else he’d spend all day in bed being sad about people he didn’t know and would never know. which he knew was fucked up, to try not to think of the victims. maybe that was why liked paranormal and cryptid stories better. “ it’s fucked, ” he repeated, but this time continuing on to say “ it probably could have been anyone, like he found him on craigslist– it really could have been anyone. ” thumb pressing into his arm for a second, lost in thought for a moment until he was drawn back by ezra’s voice again. “ gross, ” he commented for lake of anything else to say. “ some people need better hobbies. you know what– i’m just gonna say it, serial killers should get better hobbies. ” he said, making a joke to scramble back to where he felt more comfortable.

with ezra’s excitement for the idea, connor felt immediately validated and arguably, a little smug at coming up with it. “ yeah, it could be fun, right? ” though then he was kind of remembering how absolutely fucked the whole show had been. even he had been uncomfortable through the first part of the documentary as they detailed what luka magnotta had done to test how notorious he could be. “ and if it’s like too fucked, can always put on the scooby doo movie. pretty sure that’s still on netflix. ” it was mostly a joke. he was well aware of the similarities between the bau gang and mystery inc. but the first live action scooby doo movie was still a good movie. “ hell yeah, pizza and documentary night– i’m so into that. ” he enthused, maybe it could be a regular thing. semi regular. maybe. listen, he didn’t want to push his luck with his new friends (any more than he already had) but if they wanted to do it, he would be fully onboard and trying very hard to pretend not to be as excited as he actually was.

Ezra nodded in acknowledgment. He didn’t really have any doubts Conny would get in anywhere he applied, although he kept such feelings to himself. Whether his belief was legitimate or the result of their friendship tinting his perception, Conny’s capabilities behind the camera were indisputable. “Hey well, maybe if we end up in the same place we could be...roommates or something.” He tried to keep it casual, light, in spite of the fact that he suddenly felt hyper-aware of the fact that it probably seemed like he was flaunting the opportunities his family’s wealth provided him. It made him feel ignorant, arrogant. He loathed it. Ezra tried to shrug the feeling off, but the guilt pitted in his stomach slowly transformed into something else when Conny mentioned the possibility of not going to college at all. “That’d be cool.” It wouldn’t be cool. It meant facing the reality that one of the only friends he had would vanish just as quickly as he’d appeared in his life, sprawling over everything gray and dark like a stubborn beam of light cracking through closed blinds. “It would be really ‘on the ground’ or something,” he nodded and gave what he wanted to be an encouraging smile, but came out pinched. 

“It kinda makes me think of dating apps and stuff. Like you could just go out and meet someone and they could be this severely fucked up person and you wouldn’t know until...” he trailed off, but his memories of the gruesome case filled the empty space his unspoken words left behind. He didn’t like to talk about it, but he always felt like he had a higher tolerance for the fucked up shit that made most people squirm when discussing true crime. It wasn’t that he enjoyed it, or event that he was indifferent. It was like being numbed before a shot or feeling something deep within him being drawn back to a far distance while still remaining engrossed in the case. It was the kind of thing that made him capable of looking at crime scene photos without feeling repulsed.

He didn’t like to talk about it. It was something that frightened him - some strange casualty of what happened with his brother, maybe. Or worse; that he had been this fucked up from the beginning.

Conny’s joke pulled Ezra from the darker depths of his thoughts. “Y-yeah.” His voice was stuccatoed by a laugh. “Like...bowling or something. Can you imagine if instead of killing people they just became...world-class bowlers?” He was grateful for the switch, a lifeline to draw him out of the murky downward spiral his thoughts had a habit of pulling him into.

“Scooby-Doo is good too.” Ezra chuckled. It felt fitting, two mystery-solving gangs in one night. “You know those weird CGI monster things used to terrify me? Like I had nightmares about that shit.” Ezra finished putting his brushes away and set him to the task of cleaning his palette.

Ezra’s reaction was exactly the one Charlie had been attempting to goad out of him. He laughed impishly, taking an immature amount of glee out of the way Ezra’s whole face turned tomato red. The guy was a total virgin. Charlie didn’t think anyone else would find that much shame in something he was pretty sure every dude did. 

It was totally weird, ‘cause the guy was an artist. Artists were supposed to get all the girls. Even the stuckup prudes. Charlie felt bad for the guy. Almost wanted to help him out, if he were ever inclined to take up impossible tasks.

“You’re missing out,” he said, playing along with Ezra’s denial even though he firmly did not believe it. “Porn’s a whole subdivision of cinema. You can’t pretend it’s not there just ‘cause you’re afraid you might finally figure out where the clit is.” 

Of course Ezra liked horror. The stuff people spread around about him couldn’t have been entirely false. There was always a modicum of truth in gossip. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” Charlie asked - both as a genuine question and a reference to Scream. “We could do an homage. Make our own 10 minute horror flick for the club.” 

Ezra’s embarrassment only rose in response to Charlie’s laughter, heat crawling down his neck. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his natural instinct being to make himself smaller when faced with situations and subjects that made him feel awkward. He hadn’t so much as kissed a girl since middle school, and even then he felt like that shouldn’t ‘count’, so the subject of physical intimacy, even imagined, with any girl made him shy. Especially with someone like Charlie, who seemed to find amusement at his expense.

“I’ll take your word on it,” Ezra replied curtly, placing his elbow on the table and placing his finger to his temple. “I-I’m not into it. It’s degrading to women and I-I don’t think that shit is hot, man.” In spite of how much he didn’t want to continue this conversation, he still struggled with the need to defend himself, to compensate against Charlie’s brash vulgarity. 

“Just one?” Ezra had to think about it, but he was just grateful Charlie had decided to push the conversation away from pornography and the details of the feminine figure. He leaned back in his chair, thinking about it. “I like The Exorcist a lot. The Shining is pretty good, too.” Those felt so stereotypical, but they were honest. Ezra, once again, shifted in discomfort. The thought of putting together a movie, and thus having to potentially act in front of the camera was more than enough to make him squirm. But he couldn’t deny it was a cool idea - the kind of thing that Conny would get stoked on. He sucked in a breath. “That’d be cool.” He conceded. “I know a way around a camera, so I can direct. Maybe...” He drummed his fingers on the table, “I dunno, maybe we could see if someone in drama wants to help you out. Do you have any friends who’d want to do a scene with you?” Ideally someone not in the BBC.

Damian normally wasn’t one to take lightly anyone putting a hand on him but his family’s long history with Ezra made him rather lax to the unexpected seizing of his arm and subsequent dragging to a less populated portion of the hall. He willed himself to settle at Ezra’s instruction, though his frustration over the matter was still evident in the sharp huff he released once there was more distance between themselves and the other students around.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Damian assured once Ezra’s released his grip on him, immediately giving a tug to each sleeve of his blazer after – a small effort to rid of any wrinkles that might have come from the manhandling.

“A TV show cop?” Damian repeated with a blink. In a good way or a… bad way? Wait no, that wasn’t important. Right now, what was important was Ezra and this bullying Damian’s apparently been oblivious to. 

At his quiet plead of ‘please’ however, the Fenwick captain found himself sighing, as if caving into the request. He didn’t understand Ezra’s opposition to justice being served, but he supposed he did understand not wanting to stir the pot in fear of a current situation becoming worse. He’s found himself in such predicaments once or twice… 

“…Fine.” It felt a lot like defeat but he supposed respecting a friend’s wishes was more important. “But I don’t like this,” Damian made known with a raise of his finger, letting his hand fall to his side once it was done helping him provide emphasis. 

Obviously, he didn’t like this. He felt like… like a bad friend again. In that moment, a few lines from Isacco’s parting letter came to mind. A subsequent ache to his chest followed before he willed it away with a deep inhale and shake of his head.

“I won’t ask around,” he promised with his next breath, “but… I do think perhaps we should maybe spend more time together.” If Ezra wasn’t going to give him a name, Damian was just going to have to keep a watchful eye himself. And where better to do that from than right by Ezra’s side? “I feel terrible for not… knowing of your plight, it makes me–” Feel utterly destroyed on the inside. Feel worthless as a friend. “Frustrated,” he said instead of any of those things.

Ezra nodded in response to Damian’s assurances. It didn’t completely absolve him of the guilt he felt for being so...aggressive. He fiddled with the strap of his satchel. It had been dislodged after his impulsive decision to corral Damian down the hall, so he pulled it into a more secure position on his shoulder.

His attention never remained on Damian, always drifting over the Captain’s shoulder and down the hallway or flitting to the side if anything shifted in Ezra’s peripheral vision. But when Damian conceded, Ezra felt his shoulders relax, easing down with the sigh of relief that slipped from his lungs. 

He knew Damian wasn’t pleased with the solution before he voiced his disapproval, but Ezra was too grateful he’d actually listened to bother feeling condescended to by Damian’s natural inclination to Dad anyone who would let him. It was the sort of thing that made him a great house captain, but also something that held them at a distance.

For a fleeting moment, Ezra regretted that Damian wasn’t easier to talk to. As it was, Ezra rarely opened up about things that bothered him. Even with Conny. It was easier to deflect, ignore or minimize the shit he dealt with. For the people he cared about and for himself. Ezra didn’t know if Damian would be capable of letting other things slide by like he was allowing the KICK ME sign. It was a strange inbetween of trust and distrust - trusting Damian having his best interest at heart, but knowing that Damian’s care also made him untrustworthy because he’d feel obligated to intervene on Ezra’s behalf.

“Thanks, man. I-” Ezra’s jaw set at Damian’s insistence that they begin to spend more time together. What exactly did he think they would do? Ezra couldn’t swim. He doubted Damian would be interested in taking part in the BAU meetings, although, Ezra had to admit the image was kinda funny. The corner of his mouth quirked up for an instant before sinking back down again. His brow knit, seeing Damian struggle for the right words to express himself. It softened Ezra’s resolve towards resistance, inching him towards the realm of compromise. He felt like he at least owed Damian that. But the thought of the consequences hanging around a house captain could bring for him did little to ease his nerves. Ezra briefly wondered if Damian could handle it if hanging around with Lezra put him in the crossfire. 

Ezra disliked the thinking about what might happen if he couldn't. He sighed. Apparently, a little honesty was necessary. “Listen, Damian,” he said, voice intoned with sincerity and concern. “You...don’t want to hang out with me. Seriously, I-” he stammered for the words, “I’m trying to look out for you.”

It was amazing what adrenaline could do for a person of only 5″2 stature. Because Gwen couldn’t remember getting the body pinned to the side of the pool, or how she even dragged her own weight from the water but all she knew was that it killed her knees and she had definitely snagged a nail or two in the process. Still, it didn’t matter because nothing about the situation was easy, nothing about it was graceful or empowering. It was scary, and it was somebody’s life and Gwen was no hero to anybody’s story but there was no part of her that would have left a boy to drown, even probably if it was her worst enemy.

Clambering around, all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears paired with the dripping water from her clothes and hair, entire outfit waterlogged as swiveled onto her rear to grab at the boy. “Ugh! Come on!” She pulled at his dead weight, trying to loop her arms under his to yank him out like some anchor from the deep. Nobody had ever told her what a dead body felt like to drag around, but she suspected, this is what it would be like just less wet. Her lungs were on fire.

Kicking back against the tiles, she yelped out when the mass came with her, pinning her for a moment before she rolled him off and scrambled to clamber to her knees. It was then that Gwen finally was able to flip the boy onto his back and get a glimpse at who she was even trying to save. Ezra? Her mouth hung agape in shock, eyes bulging in shock as if this was any more surprising than anybody else. “Oh God…” She panicked, looking him over because she didn’t know what to do. What in the hell was it that they taught you in First Aid? “Uh…” She fretted, hands splayed in the air as she tried to figure out what to do from this point.

Tentatively, she grabbed his face, hesitating before she tilted it back, craning his mouth open. Then, she lowered her ear to his lips to try and figure out — yes! — he was breathing. “Come on, come on, come on…” Gwen hissed under her breath, grabbing for Ezra’s arm and tucking it over one shoulder in an attempt to get him into the recovery position. If he was breathing, then things were good, or well… better than bad. If he wasn’t, she’d have to call 911. Or should she call emergency services anyway? She didn’t know, she’d never —

Whether it was the pushing into his spine, or the rolling onto his side, Gwen didn’t know, all she knew was that all of a sudden there was spluttering and coughing and warm water spilling into her lap. She hadn’t meant to yell out in shock or disgust, but she had, her hands springing up in fright as the body in front of her seemed to spasm to life. Suddenly though, all pride was forgotten, all pre-existing feuds evaporated. For the first time in years, Gwen’s body relaxed and she let out a desperate breath, just glad that Ezra was okay and not a wet corpse in front of her.

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question because she was willing to bet the answer was an automatic no as he heaved, but still, she leaned forward to pull on his shoulders, helping him curl over and empty his lungs of any remaining water. Still drenched, she glanced up through wet curtains at the doorway, as if she expected at any moment for a teacher or caretaker or anybody to come smashing through the door to demand what all the noise was. But the more she stared and hoped, the more nobody came. Looking back down at Ezra, she continued to rub his back, nose wrinkling at the wretched noises he was making.

He felt something, numbed and distant. It was as though the sensation had to travel through a dense veil before it could reach him. His body convulsed. From far away, he could hear a voice - a girl’s voice. It was a muddled sound, like when Conny called out to him while he had his headphones in. It gradually grew, building like a train racing through a dark, winding tunnel towards the light of the exit. 

His core spasmed, lungs tightening. A surge coursed through his body and he was propelled into consciousness, lungs stinging with the burn of chlorine racing back up is esophagus and splattering onto the white tile. His vision was specked with white stars, cut squares of tile still hazy, floating and blurring together. His head was so heavy it could have been filled with lead. He wheezed and dropped his head to the tile, too weak to move, to perceive anything besides the throbbing in his muscles and the involuntary gasping of his lungs.

It wasn’t until he’d sucked in several mouthfuls of air that his sense began to sharpen. His nose crinkled at the overpowering scent of chlorine. Ezra blinked the water out of his eyes, pressing his palms to the tile and trying to push himself up. The effort left his head spinning, elbow nearly buckling and sending his torso dropping to the floor. His clothes felt heavy, sticking to his skin, chilling in the open air. 

It was only then that he registered the voice, the gentle hand rubbing his back. Ezra clumsily turned, squinting at the figure hovering above him. “Gwen?” he asked, uncertain if it really was the Seton house captain lingering above him or if this was some near-drowning induced hallucination. Strange as it was to think, he hadn’t known she was capable of being so...gentle. The last time they’d really spoken had been years ago, before her attitude adjustment and ascent of the social pyramid. It wasn’t as though things had exactly been bad between them. If anything, whatever lingered between them was awkward, bloated by a memory he knew Gwen probably wished he’d forget, one he’d never told anyone. Not even Conny or Casey. 

He nodded in response to her question, although he felt the furthest thing from okay. He attempted to speak, but the strain sent his lungs spasming in a fit of coughs. He turned away from her, fearful he was about to spew out more pool-water than he already had.

As his heart rate and racking coughs slowed, shame and humiliation soon filled the place where shock and desperation for survival once consumed him. Did she know? Had she seen? He couldn’t bring himself to look back at her. Against his will, a few hot tears had stubbornly slipped out of his eyes - tears of fear and relief. He ran a palm over his face, masking his intention of brushing the tears away by raking his fingers through his hair and pulling it away from his face. “T-thank you.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. She was soaked.

casually he leaned against table behind him. conny didn’t really understand painting and physical art. he tried to and he got part way there, he appreciated it. but it wasn’t the same, it wouldn’t ever be the same. he was much more comfortable with a camera in his hands than he ever would be a paintbrush. he felt with a camera he could always take the shot again, he could always edit. painting felt so final, you had to be brave enough to not care if you hated the final product after putting in hours of work. conny wasn’t that brave. 

it touched him a little when ezra tilted the canvas toward him for a second look. he wouldn’t say it, but he had gotten a good look already. instead simply observing it for as long as he would allow. “ oh yeah? ” he questioned at mentioned of a portfolio for art school, quirking a brow. “ that’s sick, man – did you have any ideas where you’re gonna apply? ” he asked, not because conny had any advise he could possibly offer but because conny was currently tossing up what film schools he wanted to apply for. sure, he’d only known ezra since september but if staying near him for college was an option, it would certainly influence where he applied.

“ s’alright, didn’t miss much. meatloaf was – ” he sucked his teeth as way of description. overall he didn’t mind broadripple food, but if someone had told him the meatloaf had been in the fridge the last ten years he wouldn’t be surprised. that being said he had eaten his whole serving plus tried to steal some of casey’s. but then back to the crazy case of luka magnotta “ what podcast? ” he asked, enthused once again. “ completely fucked– and like, did they go into how he used to write all these blog posts about himself? and like all the effort to cover his tracks right from the beginning? i mean– obviously he’s a total psycho but like, did he have more hours in a day than the rest of us? how did he get so much shit done? it’s nuts. ” he definitely didn’t admire the guy (in fact, thinking about some of the things magnotta did made him feel sick), and assumed ezra would get that, but it could definitely sound that way if someone who wasn’t their friend were to walk in on them. “ you gotta watch it, it’s only the three episodes. ” then, an idea “ they probably wouldn’t let us play it in the lounge but, like, maybe we could use a classroom over the weekend. i don’t think wendy’s seen it either. we could do like a little screening, the whole gang. do you think we could do that? ” he asked, though he’d been there a minute now, ezra still had literal years on him and certainly a better idea of what they were allowed to do on campus, and what would get them a detention for even thinking about.

“Uh, not one-hundred percent sure yet.” Saying the names out loud made him feel nervous. Like he was jinxing himself or setting himself up for the humiliation of a rejection letter. But he supposed that was kind of how every senior at Broadripple felt around this time of year, college application deadlines looming in the distance like an impending stormcloud. “The Pratt Institute maybe. New York’s School of Visual Arts, Rutgers University...Yale.” Emmanuel had been interested in Yale. He’d applied to several other Ivy Leagues before...before. They’d received a few letters, either admittances or denials. Ezra had never checked and he’d never asked his mother, who had been the one to open those parcels. He wasn’t ready to go home yet and he wanted to avoid a small town. A big city had seemed like a good option, a good change. People were assholes in cities, but in a city it was easier to disappear. The same assholes couldn’t torment him every day. And his therapist told him cities were full of all kinds of ‘different’ people. It would be easier to find his niche in a city full of artists. 

Ezra went back and forth on whether or not he believed him.

He finally put the painting away. “What about you? Got any film schools you’re interested in?” Ezra was in the habit of assuming everyone at Broadripple was going to college. It wasn’t like money was an issue for most of them, and anyone who attended the Academy on a scholarship could easily be saddled with funding at University. Although, the thought of splitting off from Conny once the year was over sucked. It made Ezra want to go into his dorm, close the blinds to lie in bed, and not get up for a long while. He’d only met the guy that year, but they’d become fast friends. Mostly because Conny was so damn persistent. Now it was hard imagining his life without him. Without any of BAU, really.

Ezra snickered. “How does it rate in comparison to the Chicken Alfredo Disaster of 2019?” Easily the worst lunch offered by Broadripple’s chefs to date. People were sick to their stomachs the entire day. But then again, he’d hadn’t tried the meatloaf. 

“Sword and Scale,” Ezra answered. He’d binged the whole thing while researching the LaLaurie mansion hauntings for the next BAU meeting. As Conny spoke, Ezra’s morbid fascination grew, building off his friend’s energy. It wasn’t that he enjoyed murder or brutality, but he did find the darkest aspects of the world evoked his interest. “It’s disgusting,” Ezra agreed. “It’s super crazy to think Jun Lin was just...living his life and then he wasn’t anymore.” Ezra shook his head at the thought, drying his brushes with a towel before putting them away in the art bin. “I have no idea.” Ezra felt like he had barely enough time to finish his homework most days. “I mean, he had to have fantasized about it for a long time - what he was going to do. It must have been like,” Ezra rolled the paintbrush between his fingers, “like a passion.” An obsession more accurately. But weren’t all passions some version of an obsession?” It made Ezra’s stomach recoil. 

“Really?” Ezra perked up at the suggestion. He wasn’t the best around people. In fact, most of the time he sought out isolation. But as much as he enjoyed the security of isolation, he longed for the company of others, of people who were like him. Friends. As long as they kept things just for the BAU squad, Ezra was down for it. Even better if they could avoid the lounges where anyone could come traipsing in and make some shitty comment about Ezra watching a murder docuseries. That was a part of his life he didn’t want infiltrating BAU. It was good. He wanted it to stay good. “Maybe we make popcorn or get a pizza or something,” Ezra suggested.

She tucked her phone back into her pocket, satisfied that her brief charade had managed to convince Ezra that Conny had been notified and was probably already on his way to the meeting now. If there was ever any doubt or if Conny opened his fat mouth and made it obvious that Casey had never sent the text at all, she was confident a little ‘oops, I forgot to hit send’ would suffice as far as excuses go. She wasn’t thinking about that now, however, she was easily consumed by hearing about Ezra’s day in as much or as little detail as he was willing to provide.

“Another day at Broadnipple Academy,” she mused, it wasn’t surprising to hear that his day was shitty. With human beings (and she used the term extremely loosely) like Gwen Prescott and Sebastian Sergeant stalking the halls, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anybody of Casey and Ezra’s social caliber that life on campus could be somewhat unpleasant at times. “Living the dream,” she answered dryly, “- actually, I did manage to convince Maria De Oliveira that Conny and I were born in a swamp,” she was evidently proud of the fact, her elevated tone of voice expressed as much. “Surprisingly easy to do, you know and I’m not sure if I should be proud of that or vaguely offended. It was almost like she was pre-disposed to believe that we crawled out of the mud somewhere before showing up to her beloved Broadripple unannounced. Speaking of her beloved Broadripple, that’s what she was doing- she was putting up this big banner thing in the hallway that said ‘Broadripple Pride’ and was horrified to hear, from me of course, that it looked like a LGBTQ+ club thing,” she was definitely proud of that, amused by the reaction Maria had had and smiling again now when she thought about it.

She chuckled at the repetition of the nickname she’d so eloquently given Gwyneth ‘Permanent PMS’ Prescott. “You like that one?” she chimed rhetorically, delighted to hear that Ezra thought she was funny and clever- which she totally was if you asked her. “I wouldn’t have enough room in my dorm to keep the folders I could fill with all of the vile- albeit hilarious- things I have to say about people like Gwen,” she assured him with a smile decorating her features. “Seriously, I could give Tolkein a run for his money if I actually took the time to write it all down,” when she thought about it for a moment longer, she considered the fact that maybe Conny was late because he’d been cornered by one or more of the BBC boys. Suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore. She pulled out her phone and decided to officially hit send this time. As much as she joked at her brother’s expense, the thought of him being trapped on the inside of a locker while she and Ezra babbled at each other concerned her. Once the text was sent, she looked back up at Ezra with a smile, “Just a calendar reminder for that new Dracula show on Netflix,” she explained dismissively as if that had been the reason her phone had stolen her attention.

Ezra chuckled in agreement, although it was really more a huff of breath. Well, she definitely had that right. Something people like Damian Fitzgerald could never understand, no matter how many solutions they proposed. “That’s what our parents pay for, right?” he said wryly. He laced his fingers together, pushing them together until the applied pressure released a cracking sound across his knuckles. He began to pull up his bulleted list of notes he intended to bring up when Wendy arrived - his newest compilation of counter-arguments for the Beast of Truro story she’d brought in A very serious participant in the club, Ezra treated every subject like a mystery to be solved, and even though he definitely believed in plenty of off-the-wall shit, his dedication to The Truth also demanded investigation that sometimes resulted in refutation. 

At the mention of the swamp story, Ezra laughed, a sound so unguarded and honest it shocked him. Usually, Ezra’s laughter, along with everything else about him, was quiet. Subdued and restrained chuckles at best. “Wait, seriously?” He asked, turning to face her. His fleeting interactions with Maria had never made him question her intelligence, but then again, he was usually distracted by the fact that a girl like Maria De Oliveira had even acknowledged him. “I thought she was supposed to be...smart or something.” She was president of the student council after all. He reclined back on this seat, resting his elbow on the back of the couch while he folded his leg so his foot could rest on his knee. “But I mean, that would be sick.” He offered, his initial anxieties easing their grip. “Very... Creature of the Black Lagoon.” The corner of his mouth was hooked in a crooked grin, indicating that this was a very good thing. 

Ezra remembered seeing the banner, although he hadn’t really taken note of what it said. Maria had been too busy asking him if he enjoyed being at Broadripple, a question that was shocking both because she’d thought to ask him and because he couldn’t fathom how anyone could enjoy being at the Academy. He frowned at the mention of ‘horrified’. “Is she like...homophobic or something?” Sure Broadripple was a Catholic school, but there was a no-tolerance policy for discriminatory behavior. Well, or so it was printed in the student handbook. Certainly didn’t stop the BBC from slinging faggy at anyone who didn’t embody an outdated macho archetype.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Ezra closed his lips on a smile. Ezra didn’t talk much. Even as he eased into a state of comfortability with Casey, his instinct was always to listen rather than to talk. He enjoyed listening, at least when he liked the people who were talking. He could listen to Conny talk for hours about the newest girl he thought he was in love with even if Ezra knew the next girl who offered to let him borrow her eraser was equally capable of warranting the same attention. It was the same way with Casey. The words just tumbled out from her, threading a patchwork conversation he was glad to trace along. “Your magnum opus?” Ezra offered an attempt at a tease. “I’d read it. It’s like...an abstract memoir.” Not that he knew anything about memoirs. He considered making a joke about designing the cover for her but held it back. It was probably stupid, anyways.

“Oh neat.” Ezra arched a brow in interest. “Is that the anime one or something else?” He’d already watched all of Castlevania, and even though he dug it, his favorite was probably the rendition with Winona Ryder. A massive deviation from the source material, but Ezra liked the changes. He felt like they made the story matter more.