king of the clouds

Jen knows about Sweetie’s reputation and has seen people sneak the little baggies from the salad bar, but they’ve kept their distance from the shady parts of the restaurant. They genuinely just go there for the ice cream and milkshakes. After the Foxes lost the last game, it feels like a good time to try and cheer up with something sweet, even if these games don’t impact them like they used to. It doesn’t feel that way when they’re watching from the sidelines and seeing how crushed their old teammates are when they lose. For some reason, it makes them miss being part of the action, rather than grateful they’re more distant from it now.

It’s pretty quiet when they step through the doors, but they spot a familiar face and make a beeline for his table. When Caleb offers a napkin, they immediately reach to grab one before pausing suddenly, remembering how the waiters passed on the cracker dust. Faltering, they drop their hand before taking a seat on the other side of the both, not bothering to try and hide the concerned look they give Caleb. 

“No. I just want ice cream,” Their response makes them feel like a little kid, but they don’t have time to dwell on it before a waitress comes over for their order. Jen glances at the menu before choosing brownie sundae. A napkin free brownie sundae. 

It’s not like Jen is a prude or anything. They definitely take advantage of the underage drinking in Edens or the free alcohol at house parties, and they’ve heard about the rumors about cracker dust, but they never wanted to try. The whole magic untraceable, nasty side effect free drug sounds fake. “Are you okay?” Jen asks Caleb quietly, knowing he must be down after the game. It’s probably why he’s here in the first place.

Sweetie’s is busier than Caleb would like it to be, mildly frustrated by just the sheer noise of it all and unable to get a solid breath in. The ice cream in front of him helped mitigate the overwhelming feeling of his chest being crushed, not just by the game, but by the overload and the game combined. Too much stimulus, his brain running through everything that happened during the game while his ears tried to tune out the sound of the restaurant getting filled up with people eating their feelings. 

Another person, one talking directly to him, wouldn’t help the overload, it would actually make it worse, but Caleb enjoyed Jen’s company, more than most of the people currently on the team. Them not being a Fox anymore, but a Vixen, is probably what tipped the scales in their direction to begin with. He doesn’t press their choice not to partake in cracker dust, noticing the packet of crackers from the salad bar missing. 

“Suit yourself.” It’s almost dismissive, but not quite. Jen had to have been feeling the loss but probably not anywhere near as hard as the Foxes themselves were. Wymack didn’t care what his Foxes got up to so long as they didn’t end up in jail or unable to play, he could afford to drown his sorrows in cracker dust instead of alcohol or one of his more unsavory vices. This, at the very least, wouldn’t last long enough to do any real damage and he’d be good to be rise with the sun in the morning. 

Once, Glory had been a hellion, far worse than she is now. Now, most of her ire is saved for the court. Off of the court, her life is better than she ever could have imagined—what did she have to rage against?

Back in Owls Bend, there had been Justice, who Glory had hated more than anything in the world. They’d use to scream at each other, and Glory had reveled in making him lose his usual stern composure—when her father left, Justice had complete power over them, but making him angry was one thing she could do, no matter what he did to punish her for it. If he could even catch her. 

She hasn’t felt that anger in a long time. That bone-deep, seething hatred. Even in Louisville, her lashing out had been more aimless, an urge to feel something rather than the pointed thing it had been in Owls Bend. She’d hated Justice because he was a bully and a tyrant, and acting the same way to anyone other than him would have made her the exact same.

Looking at Caleb, now, she feels a stirring of something like anger.

Sometimes, she tried to remember a moment, something she could point to. This is where I fucked everything up. If there was one, she hasn’t found it yet. Or maybe she just doesn’t remember. When she met her crowd of friends in Owls Bend, she’d felt so behind. After years of being a loner, a feral creature out in the woods, she wanted to be part of the crowd, and she hated thinking of them looking at her and seeing that she didn’t belong, regretting their choice. And so she didn’t even think: when they asked, when they offered, no matter what, she just said yes. 

It’s hard to separate out what she regrets from what she doesn’t. She doesn’t regret being in love —(even if she should, even if her love might have been someone else’s undoing)—and she doesn’t think she can separate that from the rest. He belonged to it all: the long nights and the empty fields and the abandoned barns and the alcohol and the drugs.

But she’s not in Owls Bend anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time. 

“Do I want what?” She says, her low, fierce tone making it clear that she knows exactly what he’s actually offering. 

It had been a long, long time, since anyone specifically blamed anything on Caleb. The words hadn’t been directed at him since he was a child, but he could still hear his subconscious say that them losing the game was all his fault. While the voice used to sound like his mother’s, drunk and slurring her words, it had progressed to his own voice lately. That enough was to send him running into the comfort of cracker dust and ice cream.

The tapes would show that he let two goals in. Two goals that, had he blocked them, would have lead to a tie and the teams having a shootout to see who won. If he’d only been a little bit better, a little bit faster, they might have won. It’s a stinging feeling, even knowing that they’d still progress on. A victory would only boost their confidence and he couldn’t help secure one. 

A new round of blame settles over him and makes him flinch internally like a hand to the cheek. Glory’s voice doesn’t help, he’s already up in his head and hearing a woman’s voice only served to put him on edge. It was nothing like his mothers: Every word out of Glory’s mouth was sharp, concise, she very clearly knew what was going on. His mother’s had been rougher, words running together and with a few choice words a child shouldn’t have heard mixed in. But it’s enough to send him reeling, hand pulling the sleeve of his shirt down to cover the burn on his arm. 

It’s only for a moment that he allows, catching himself and remembering where he was. Sweetie’s, in Palmetto, hundreds of miles away from the place he’d grown up in. Palmetto meant exy and exy meant that he’d made it out. That was the only thing that mattered. 

There was no time for pity parties in exy. He could mourn their loss or feel guilty over it after they’d won the championships so he did his very, very best, to snap himself back to reality, into feeling like a real person and not a million miles away. 

Brayden shakes his head as he glares out into the distance, doing nothing to hide his frustration as he lets out a deep sigh. He came out here to try and collect himself after the game, and all his conversations with Caleb usually end with him walking away as soon as he can. He reminds him too much of himself–but a version of himself who never actually tried to get better. Caleb must hide his addiction better than he ever did, because all it took was a look for Wymack for him to send Brayden to rehab, something that freaked him out at the time, but he can’t help be grateful for now. 

And of course Caleb greets him like an asshole, as if he isn’t also outside in the cold. “Last I checked I can’t smoke inside,” Brayden snaps. He’s been better at not being such an asshole lately, but he feels raw and on edge, and Caleb is getting the brunt of that. 

“You’re always bitchy,” Brayden counters. To him, at least. It’s not surprising, considering Brayden knows what he knows. If one of his teammates confronted him in the same way in high school, he would’ve panicked. But then again, he spent so much of that time silently wishing that someone would notice he needed help–his family, specifically. But nobody did, until Wymack. He thought he was doing Caleb a favor by being the one to step in, but just because they’re both addicts doesn’t mean they deal with it in the same way, and maybe it’s better if he just focuses on himself and his own recovery.

“What’re you doing up here then?” He asks. 

Things between the two of them had been tense since the beginning of the year. They hadn’t really been friends prior, but they at least didn’t mind each other. It was never outright animosity and snarky replies, more acknowledging the other was there but not going out of their way to interact. That all came to an end, though, when Caleb’s dumb ass had gotten drunk and casually decided to reveal his biggest secret. With Brayden knowing something that could get him sent away from Palmetto, from exy, he decided to keep him at arms’ length. Be an asshole and maybe he wouldn’t bother to try and get him clean. 

It had been working splendidly so far but truthfully, Caleb was tired. Losing the game had taken a lot of energy from him, where he already didn’t have a lot to spare after climbing out of the depressive hole he had fallen into. While he didn’t want to really let anyone close enough to him, this one night of not being an asshole wouldn’t kill him. Besides, after that thing with Patch at the winter banquet, he’d been trying to keep his attitude in check. “I mean,” he began, hoping his words came off with a joking tone and not as condescension, “You can if you don’t care about the rules.” 

Brayden was right. He was always bitchy, though it was usually saved for the people who knew too much. To the rest of the team, he hopefully, came off as a quiet, but sometimes blunt, guy. “Yeah, I know I am.” Memories flashed through his head of his least proud moments: punching Patch at the banquet, that night at the Vixen’s Den where he ended up in a fight with Rosie after being in her room to get away from it all, literally every word out of his mouth that had been directed at Brayden. It was a whole montage of shit that showed his true colors. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.” 

Sweetie’s was always a welcome comfort for Caleb. The promise of cracker dust to take the edge off was never something he would take for granted and he went there seeking the same, familiar warmth he found in the bright decor and ice cream. The loss of the game had him reeling, though not as bad as some of the others on the team. He felt numb to this one, probably to do with his sitting on the roof last night, reminding himself that he was meant to play exy. Whether they won against the Bruins, or lost, or even if they get to the championships only to lose, that he was still playing exy. It was what he was supposed to do with his life. Losing didn’t matter. 

Realistically, he had shoved down his true feelings on the loss, and the reminder that any loss would sting. He could still be playing exy and be grateful for it while being horrifically bitter that they didn’t win. That same numbness was why he had grabbed packets of crackers from the salad bar, leaving them on the table. When he’d ordered and gotten a pile of napkins, the cracker dust that was hidden underneath felt like a light at the end of the tunnel. It was the only fun drug that the rest of the team would be reasonably cool with, considering most had tried it themselves. His other vices ... not so much. Caleb relished the little things. 

Location: Fox Tower Roof Date: March 15 Time: Post-Game (open)

Brayden feels stupid for sulking, especially because hiding after a game is starting to become a tradition for him. They’re in a good enough place that this loss doesn’t seriously ruin their chances, but he feels like they no longer have that grip on Championships that they used to. The Ravens beat the Trojans, and they can’t even beat the Bruins. Maybe, his mistake was thinking he could actually do this in the first place, finally prove himself. It feels like a one-sided competition anyway with his brothers weird encouraging text messages and surprise birthday presents. Or Landon is just so unbothered by the Foxes that he’s not even considering the possibility they’d do better than the Ravens. 

He lets out a groan and buries his face in his hands, annoyed with his own train of thought. This is the reason he stays with Betsy every summer and has to see her twice a month, because he just can’t stop. He knows he’s come a long way since he first joined the team, but there’s a difference between knowing and feeling. And sometimes, he feels like he’s still that lost eighteen year old, especially when his hands tremble like this, and he craves something stronger than a cigarette. 

Placing the cigarette between his teeth, he buries his trembling hands in his jacket pockets, tucking his chin against his knees in an effort to combat the cold breeze. Smoking on the roof during winter wasn’t the smartest idea, but he feels too caged in his dorm right now. He hears the door bang open behind him and doesn’t even react, still tucked in on himself. “Hey,” He greets, words muffled by the cigarette. “Here to join the party? Good luck, it’s fucking freezing up here,” He makes an effort to sound unaffected, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work. He’s a fucking terrible actor. 

The roof is ideal when you need some space from everything. Even just from the top of it, everything looks smaller, things get put into perspective. Whenever Caleb feels shitty, he usually ends up there. Sometimes to mope, which he does in spades, other times to recollect himself. Everything in life happened for a reason. Life wouldn’t give you more than you could handle. He was meant to play exy, so one fateful day, he picked up a racquet and ended up here, at Palmetto. The loss was awful, made everyone feel like shit and threw them all off their rhythm. But it wasn’t the end of the world. The Foxes still had a chance at winning. They could still pull through. One game like this wouldn’t fuck them over. 

It’s with that thought in mind that he went up to the roof, breathing in the cold air and letting it ground him. The second his eyes adjust, he can make out the glow of a lit cigarette and Brayden’s voice fills the air. With a roll of his eyes, he pulls the blanket worn around his shoulders like a cloak tighter. “I’ll be fine,” he reassures Brayden, even though he doubts Brayden is really concerned anyway. Making sure to keep his distance, he sits down a ways away from the other man, feet dangling over the edge of the roof and eyes on the horizon.

LOCATION: Downtown Strip Mall STATUS: open for all 

     Sighing in frustration, Indigo stopped dead in her tracks, looking up from her phone with a groan before shoving it into her back pocket. It was a dramatic action; one would think she’d just received bad news. Well, she had, but her classification of ‘bad news’ was questionable at best. Sometimes it could be as minor as something like another Selena Gomez / Justin Bieber rumor circling the mill. 

    { For the record, Indigo was Team Baldwin all the way now } 

            Turning, she gave a pouted lip to her companion. “Can you believe I just found out that Verizon won’t actually give me Disney+ because I don’t pay the million bucks they want for unlimited data?” Indigo complained, shoulders lifting as if to say she couldn’t understand it either. “I was so fuckin’ excited too, like what a let down. Hey, you got a login I could borrow? Did they add the new Lady & The Tramp?” 

Five guitar picks had fallen victim to Caleb’s tendency to lose things this month alone. And it was within the first two weeks of the month. This was getting ridiculous, but it didn’t stop him from shelling out more money on another pack. And it wasn’t like he was spending a lot on guitar picks, not on each individual shopping trip (cumulatively might say otherwise) but he was saving up his money for his other vices. 

WHEN: March 10th around noon WHERE: Outside the Fox Tower WHO: Open

She had left something inside the Fox Tower, and on her walk back to the Vixen Den was when she noticed it. Her phone. What was a girl like Rosie going to do with her fucking phone? It was like air supply to her, without it, she felt nervous and if it fell into the wrong hands….she didn’t even want to start thinking about that. So, she turned around and started her trek back to the large building, cursing at herself in her head for being so swept up with sneaking out of that place that she was careless enough to leave a prized possession. It was cloudy out, but as she neared the tower, the clouds had drawn in darker. When a raindrop hit her splat in the middle of the forehead, and her without an umbrella, she shook her head, “No, please no.” She mumbled, almond eyes going wide before a snap of her fingers, downpour. It was true what they say, April showers bring May flowers, but it was March for crying out loud. 

With a groan, she looked around, the Fox Tower was in her sights and she raced over quickly to the small amount of covering it provided before pouting as she realized…she certainly didn’t have a key to access the door. Now, drenched and her hair practically ruined, she pounded her small fists on the door, “C’mon, let me in, this is so….ugh!” The red head said, kicking the door with her heeled foot before pressing her back to it and running manicured fingers through her damp locks. “Why me?” She muttered to the sky with a shake of her head, hands falling to the sides of her body in defeat as she tried to figure out her next move.

Banging on the door to Fox Tower got Caleb’s attention and, with a huff of annoyance, he got up, leaving his homework abandoned on the coffee table. Whatever idiot forgot their key had better be soaking wet as repayment for Caleb having to get up. Even if he was annoyed that he was interrupted, at least he was doing his homework. At least he was getting up instead of leaving whoever it was outside for the next person with a key to help. This was better than just lying in his room all day. And he was being nice, the rain hitting the pavement outside just sounded bad, no doubt pouring, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance grew closer quickly. With a roll of his eyes, he pulled open the door.

Her hair was a mess of a ponytail hanging on by a thread, which she felt pretty much justified the way she felt after that game. Sweat beading down her temple, along her collarbone, skin warm and damp from the work she’d put in on that punching bag, but it wasn’t like Olivia was ever the beauty queen type. It was out of the norm for her enough at the banquet last year to wear a stitch of make up or even brush and style her hair, she just never saw herself as that girl. There were a few times throughout her time here at Palmetto that she had stepped outside her comfort zone if only for a night, Halloween night was the biggest one. She didn’t drink, she found it a bit too much given her father’s love of alcohol, and the night at Penn State where one drink turned into a never ending nightmare now for her. But Halloween night she did, she even dressed a bit racy for her usual oversized attire she typically wore. 

Still, Caleb had always been nice to her, and she didn’t mind his company right now. Not that it meant she trusted him, still keeping comfortable distance, “Oh, uh….I don’t know. I sort of lose track of time….” Olivia admitted, a bit embarrassed as she pursed her lips together and glanced over at the clock. Finishing up, she tucked her wraps that she had on her hands into the duffle bag on the floor beside the bench. “Same, i’ve always been an early riser. I feel the grind for sure, I also am sort of a sucker for sunrises. Almost as much as sunsets….” She was rambling on and on, so she snapped her mouth shut before stretching her arms above her head, laughing a bit under her breath, “If you want advil or something, I have some. I’m probably going to need it anyways from the game last night, so here.” Unzipping the front of her bag, she tossed it over to him with a little smile, “I’ve had a total of one hangover, I don’t know how people do it all the time.”

“Y’know, that’s fair.” Caleb was not the paragon of knowing your limits in any one aspect of life. Even the hours he spent at the gym slipped away faster than he would have liked, unable to keep hold onto them and actually keep track of time. Except when he didn’t want to be working out. Then it felt like eighty years had passed in the span of half an hour. “Honestly, I couldn’t sleep in if I tried.” And tried he had, especially lately. But his body still woke up minutes before the sun peaked above the horizon and he ended up on the roof with a cigarette, listening to music anyway. “No, I get it. Morning especially. It’s way more peaceful, no one else is up. Kind of feels like you have the world to yourself.” With his mom, simply existing wasn’t allowed and he certainly couldn’t get in her way. In the foster homes, he was encouraged to do what he wanted, within reason, and he found that he liked being able to just be. He was up with the sunrise every morning, watching it in silence before he got called down for breakfast. That followed him into college, except now, breakfast was a cigarette and maybe a cup of coffee. 

There wasn’t much she knew about Caleb apart from the few interactions they’d had. He was quiet, seemed sad sometimes, minded his business and kept his head down. In a way she related to that in him, not wanting to get mixed up into things that didn’t concern her, and she offered a sheepish grin as she swallowed down the exhaustion in her body. If she hadn’t learned to push through it, Olivia would’ve very well collapsed about 30 minutes ago. Her arms were shaking, almost pleading for a rest after last nights game, and she clenched her knuckles before unwrapping them slowly, plopping down onto the bench to her rest as she glanced over to Caleb. 

“What, you don’t work out in your pajamas?” She offered with a slight joking tone, clearing her throat as she shrugged, finishing one hand and starting to unwrap the other, “I’m really done though, I think my arms would pop off if I want any harder.” Olivia explained in the usual soft tone her voice held, furrowing her brows together before glancing back over to the company that joined her, “You’re up early? Weren’t you at the party last night…..ya know, celebrating or whatever?” She’d been there maybe for a total of twenty minutes before feeling like a fraud, considering she really hadn’t done much to help with the win, and wasn’t ever really much of a partier. If they won the whole thing, if they became the champions that she knew they could become, then maybe that night she would let loose.

Olivia looked about as wrecked as Caleb felt. The fluorescent lights of the gym were killer on his head and he wasn’t always the best at keeping any nausea at bay after a hangover. It felt like he was running out the clock until the inevitable moment he got sick and wanted to go lie down in bed while the remainder of his headache ebbed away. But for now, he shoved it down, focused on the situation in front of him and who he was talking to. He’d never had anything against Olivia, found her entertaining, especially that night at the costume party but he was high off the feeling of being in an inflatable t-rex suit, everything was entertaining that night. After a couple of seconds, he sat down on the bench next to her, careful to keep his distance but the world still felt a little off kilter from the night before. 

Bastion loved music. He might not have a favorite genre because what he listened to really just depended on his state of mind at the time. He would go through periods were he was obsessed with one song or artist. He’d listen to them on repeat until his mental space changed and he found a new one to obsess over. But he was almost always listening to music. It was cathartic. Even when he went through his phases with depressing songs. Sure, they were sad but there was something about the way an artist could put their emotions behind their words. If it was sad, you felt it, and if it was happy or fun you felt that to. It allowed him to just feel, and there was something peaceful about having that moment.

When he smiled back at Caleb it was warm, his embarrassment still present but not as encompassing. Sure, he was the kind of idiot who just shouted out song lyrics when other people were just waking up, but at least the other fox didn’t seem too irritated by it. “I really didn’t.” He followed it with a small shake of his head, but he didn’t seem upset but the notion. Bastion loved music. Though, he tended to sing quietly to himself rather than loud enough to be overheard. He didn’t think he had much of a voice, and no one had been in a position to tell him so for a long time, but it didn’t bother him much. He liked singing, and it was only for himself so there was no need to worry about how he sounded. “But thank you.”

“Are you usually up this early?” It might be nice to know some of the early risers. He usually spent his mornings alone, not that he really minded. He liked running, but maybe it would be nice to spend some time with his teammates. His smile was friendly, but a bit nervous as he continued. “Sorry, I’m just used to seeing the team on a caffeine drip before morning practise. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Goodness knows I could use more.” A small shrug punctuated his words.

“I’m not a liar, Bastion.” At least, not about trivial stuff like that. He doubted that Bastion would have anything to say if he had lied and said he sounded like shit but he hadn’t, so why would Caleb bother to lie about it. Caleb himself usually didn’t sing much, he hated the sound of his own voice but if every once in awhile someone caught him singing in the showers at court when he thought he was alone or quietly singing along to the songs he played on guitar. Being called out for it always made him embarrassed, but that didn’t stop him from letting Bastion know he had heard.

Instead of replying right away, he flashed a smile, taking his earbuds out, a choice to actually be involved in this conversation. Maybe that was one of the first steps to no longer being so numb to everything. Making an active effort into getting better, whether it be through new conversations or just by taking a shower every two days instead of letting himself go longer than he should. He could try to keep getting up early, let the habit take over like it used to and get his internal clock back on schedule. Caleb was tired of feeling this way but he was still figuring out how to stop. 

LOCATION: Gym at Hotel in Vegas WHEN: Morning after game WHO: Open

Embarrassment.That was all Olivia felt for her performance in that game, sure they won and that was the point, but she’d let too many things slide. How could she have been so careless, especially this far into the championships. Her performance was mediocre at best, she could’ve played harder, and they wouldn’t have tied if she had just kept her focus. Scouts were always watching, they’d been watching her since a young age, and even if she’d won this game with the Foxes, it was clear that she had barely helped to secure that victory. Exy meant the world to her, slip ups just weren’t in her dictionary, so when they happened she tended to be a little hard on herself. Maybe it was because her father drilled that into her, that messing up meant you were weak, that giving your absolute best with the only option. That game was far from her best, and she felt like she’d let everyone down.

She could’ve done better.

So she woke up at the crack of dawn per usual, only stopping by the after party for a moment last night before slipping out the back to head back to the hotel, and got to the gym before anyone else could. Olivia needed to sweat out her self pity, and she did just that with every pump of her legs on the treadmill, every lift of a weight, and now currently laying into a punching bag with all her might. Quick jabs, one-two’s, boxing was something Zia had taught her…and something that she took way more seriously whenever the Penn State boys did their damage. It wasn’t long until her knuckles started to ache and she let out a heavy sigh, wiping the back of her hand along her forehead before realizing someone had joined her in the gym. Clearing her throat, she began to unwrap her knuckles as she nodded towards them, “Er, good morning….I was just finishing up in here.”

They had won. A death match game and they won. The Foxes deserved a chance to sleep in, especially since so many of them would be hungover just as Caleb was, but he was awake before the sun even broke through the curtains. His body was still on east coast time and he wouldn’t bother adjusting his sleep schedule for only one day. They’d be back at Palmetto before long and things would be back to normal. For now, he had laid in bed while it was still pitch black out, only getting up to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. There wasn’t a chance of him falling back asleep so he fished advil out of his bag (really impressive to do in the dark) and went to wander the hotel.

Normally, he had music playing, tuning out the rest of the world but he doubted anyone else would be up. Even if they were all still on east coast time, the physical exhaustion of the game would keep them asleep. Idly he walked the hallways in silence, relishing in the feeling of being in a hotel. There wasn’t a way to describe it, except as a place that reality didn’t exist. It felt untouched, pristine, but like the illusion could be shattered at any minute. It didn’t feel real. 

         Sometimes Ripley wished that they were naturally smart and didn’t have to work so hard at school to get good grades. It would be easier with how stressed they were. In high school, they hadn’t tried to get good grades—though classes weren’t usually the first thing on their mind. Ripley didn’t get perfect grades, but they were much better than average. Studying was Ripley’s only way to keep up the good grades, despite having to work longer to maintain decent grades. It was ambition that kept Ripley on track when it came to their grades. Without their goal to get to space, they weren’t sure what they were going to do with their education. Going to space was their only goal in life—and even if it took a long time to achieve it, they were going to get there one way or another, even if they had to build their own space ship to get there. That determination is what kept Ripley from failing classes, that and not wanting to fail at something yet again.

         Part of the reason that they didn’t want to talk to Etta was because they were trying to study. But another reason was that she probably wanted to talk about how they were doing. Ripley loved their sister and liked that she was much closer to them now; that didn’t mean that Ripley wanted her to call every few days to check and make sure they were alright. There days that they appreciated it and days when getting out of the conversation couldn’t happen fast enough. Today had been one of those days. Ripley thought things were going much better now—and it was still a slow process of feeling alright, but it was happening. Ripley actually felt like they were starting to get back to normal. They couldn’t believe it had taken almost a whole year to feel like they had a solid footing at Palmetto. They just hoped the next two years were going to go by better than this one did. 

         Fox Tower still loomed ahead and Ripley was not sure how they were going to get in. Normally, they’d just call one of their Fox friends to let them in or make a friend on another team. Today it didn’t seem like anyone was around. That was going to be a problem. Ripley couldn’t blame them for not being at Fox Tower when hanging out in their rooms was boring, it sort of sucked for them though. Lost in thought while they were staring at the tower, Ripley didn’t hear someone come up behind them until they heard the voice. “Oh, hey. A key?” Ripley glanced at Caleb. “That’s boring.” Ripley scoffed. “Do you not believe I could be a spy? I’m totally blend-in-able.”

There was almost a jolt of excitement, just for a second, one glimmered like there might be. When put together, Caleb and Ripley had left behind chaos in the wake and he was starting to shake off the rust in his chest at the idea of it. Maybe they could create a little chaos, cause a little destruction and he would be good as new! That wasn’t quite how it worked but Caleb’s fog was too heavy for him to climb out of on his own and this might be his best chance because it was the first thing that actually brought a genuine smile up to his face. Realistically, he should be studying, if only to review the material and just make sure that he would pass his classes, but this seemed like it would be worthwhile. 

“You’re totally not, but it’s okay, because it works for you.” He pulled his key out, holding it up with eyebrows raised. “It might not be as fun but it’ll get you in a lot faster.” The door on the roof was absolutely busted, had been for a long ass time before Caleb was even on Wymack’s radar and none of the athletes in the Tower would snitch about it to anyone in admin, so it would remain broken long after Caleb had left this school. The front door was a different story and without a key, there was no way Ripley was breaking in. They may be able to pass as a spy, but passing as a spy and actually being one were two different things.”

He already figured what Ripley’s answer would be so he tucked the key back into his pocket, shrugging as if to say suit yourself. And then he invited himself along, because this seemed like it would be entertaining and exciting and it almost felt like an adventure and Caleb hadn’t had an adventure in a long time. The opportunity was presenting itself and he was jumping at it. “So how are we gonna make like spies and get into the Tower but more importantly, why?” The why wasn’t as important, he had already decided he was along right the ride, unconcerned with whether or not they even wanted him here. 

Where: Outside Fox Tower

Date: Monday, February 26th

Time: Early Morning

OPEN

Bastion never used to be an early riser. He loved sleep. His bed was so comfortable, and there was nothing better than being wrapped in mounds of blanket. It was warm, and lazy and peaceful. In truth, he still loved mornings like that. When he could just lay there wrapped in warmth and pretend the world wasn’t continuing around him. But his highschool exy team had broken him of the habit, for the most part. Now, he only indulged in it on Saturday or Sunday, after game night when he didn’t have any commitments to disturb him. 

Monday, however, meant resuming his normal schedule and no more lazy mornings until after Friday. He didn’t have any classes this early, but he’d still forced himself out of bed before the sun. He was always sluggish in the mornings, but today seemed determined to be particularly awful. He’d still been half asleep when he first started out, stumbling over his own feet, eyes closed a half second too long every time he blinked. It was a rather dangerous way to run, but it hadn’t lasted too long at least. Whether it was the chill or the exercise, Bastion found himself waking up. Before long he felt his spirits and energy rose. He was no longer pulled down by wryness, instead encompassing his usual seemingly boundless energy as he quietly sang along with his music.

Bastion belted out half a verse from the song playing over his earbuds. He jerked almost to a stop at the sound of his own voice, a hand flying to his mouth. He’d been singing quietly, but that. There was nothing quiet about that. He felt his ears burn with embarrassment as he cast a quick look around to see if he might have overheard. It was still early enough that very few people would likely be out. Honestly, it was improbable that anyone would be around to hear his slip. Which meant that it was still possible, and for Bastion, that meant of course someone had heard him. His smile was a bit goofy with his embarrassment, his breathing still a tad labored from his jog, as he pulled an earbud out. He rubbed at the back of his neck, not quite meeting the other person’s eyes. “Hi-Hey. Sorry. It’s— It’s a good song…” He offered as an explanation, a jittery chuckle pulling at his lips. He bite his lip through his smile, ears still too warm. “So, good morning?” He hadn’t meant it to sound like a question but he was quick to nod to himself seeming more sure as he continued. “Yea, good morning!”

Mornings were a gift Caleb tried his hardest not to overlook. It was serene on campus, he could walk around without anyone in his way, he could bring his guitar with him and practice without anyone judging him. Most of his mornings had involved coffee, a good book, and classical music playing through his earbuds. It was the only time he ever felt truly at peace and he enjoyed every second of it he could get his hands on. Or he used to. Nowadays, he was fighting himself tooth and nail to get his shit together. He wanted to be happy, to not let the fog absorb him, but it didn’t seem to be working like that.

Where he usually found himself alert in the mornings, he had been sluggish lately, slow to process and slower to reply. That wasn’t like him but he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Putting in effort was half of the battle but in order to put effort in, he had to have energy. That was something he lacked today. Or most days, as of late. With his back to the railing of the staircase to the tower, he smoked, taking in the morning. His body was telling him to go back to bed, curl up under the blankets for hours and just let the day pass him by. His mind wasn’t doing much to discourage him, but he’d made it out of his dorm regardless. And even if he didn’t make it far, outside was outside and fresh air, even if filled with smoke, was better than smoking in his dorm. 

There was nothing playing through his earbuds. He was already having issues working out what was said to him and getting his brain to understand what was said, adding music to that would only make it worse. As much as he loved having a soundtrack to life, he didn’t want to make it worse. And listening to songs he loved might help him out of the haze but it just as likely could backfire and he could come to associate that song with the sadness. So it was better to not play anything and just let it be. The sound of footsteps coming closer caught his attention but he didn’t open his eyes to look, not until he heard singing. Very loud singing. Maybe not super loud, but loud enough to break the silence that had settled over them. He glanced up at Bastion, half a smile on his lips. “Morning,” he said, just out of politeness. “You sounded pretty good.”

LOCATION: Near(ish) Fox Tower  DATE: February 23rd  TIME: 7:42 PM  OPEN

          All the study rooms at the library were taken and Ripley had hoped that one of their friends was in one of them. No luck. They were just going to have to deal with finding another place to study. Honestly, the library wasn’t the best place to study star formations anyway, it’d all be books and books just weren’t as fun to look at than the actual sky. And the astronomy building wasn’t accessible right now because there was a lab in there. Ripley wasn’t going to press their luck by pissing off one of their professors just to get some homework done that didn’t need to be done for another couple of weeks. There weren’t many places on campus that they could reasonably go to look at the stars. That was until Ripley remembered that Olivia said Fox Tower was a good place to look at the stars. They walked away from the library, towards Fox Tower, trying to think of something they could say to get in without sounding like they were actually stupid. They at least hoped that 

          Ripley had been feeling slightly better over the last week or two. Things were slowly starting to get back to normal. Their mood seemed to be better. Ripley vaguely wondered if it was connected to moving into a different room, but considering they were still friends with Cade, they weren’t putting much stock into that theory. No, they were pretty sure it had to do with Etta. Ripley knew that their family really wasn’t that far away in the grand scheme of things—plenty of Foxes had family that was much further away than three hours. However, Ripley’s moms still weren’t close enough even if they were three hours away. Their sister being an hour away, driving fast, made for a much easier drive. In fact, she was insisting on meeting up with Ripley every few weeks to make sure they were doing alright. They’d been ignoring some, if not most, of their problems, lying about that just wasn’t feasible with their sister. Nearing Fox Tower, their phone went off. 

          “Hey, Etta. I can’t talk right now. I’m attempting to Mission: Impossible my way into Fox Tower so I can look at the stars from the roof. And yes, I’ll be careful.” Ripley hung up the phone and glanced up at the building, attempting to figure out a way in other than calling one of their Fox friends to save the day. 

The library on campus wasn’t the best place to be right now, even if all Caleb wanted to do was sit and read in a quiet corner. He didn’t care much about studying, his grades were fine and he would pass his exams with ease. Right now he was looking for an escape from the dumb drama going on inside his own head, looking for a distraction from everything. It wasn’t often that he strayed far from his usual routine of moping in his dorm, in the common room, and putting energy he didn’t have into exy. Curling up in the corner of the library, in a large, plus chair, was a nice change of pace. 

He had been there for hours when he finally got anxious, antsy, got the desire to move again. Those had been coming in short bursts lately and if he didn’t get up now, he might not get the will to do it again for hours. And eventually, he would have to go back to his dorm and sleep. He’d almost fallen asleep in the chair and it was a narrow miss. So he got up and reshelved his book before heading back for the Tower. He could take his time and walk slowly and maybe, just maybe, he would have enough energy to not collapse into bed immediately upon entering his dorm. But he would get stuck with insomnia the second he laid down. 

There was a familiar figure up ahead and it took Caleb a second to figure out why it was familiar. It was Ripley, and with a hint of shame, Caleb realized he hadn’t spoken to them in a minute, his desire to make interpersonal connections had fallen by the wayside. He waited for them to get off of the phone, not trying to scare them or eavesdrop, just attempting to be polite. “Y’know, I do have a key,” he said as a way of announcing himself. 

“But watching you attempt to be a spy would be way more fun.”

Location: Outside Fox Tower Date: February 20 Time: Late afternoon

Sami came to a stop with Fox Tower looming over her, hands on her knees and chest puffing with exertion. She wasn’t stressed. She wasn’t – that had absolutely nothing to do with her run to and from court, or enlistment of anyone she could find, even if she couldn’t stand the sight of them, in drills. It wasn’t why her arms ached and her knees throbbed and the itch pressed deep into the center of her back. Nope. Nothing to do with it.

She stood slowly, breath coming in strange, sharp bursts, and wiped her hands on her thighs. It didn’t help much. February was fucking freezing, but she’d run until she thought her lungs or feet were bleeding. Every spare inch of skin was now slicked with sweat, even in the chill. She wondered if Marley would say something about going into shock, and swiftly dismissed the thought. Sami didn’t care, so long as she wasn’t thinking.

“Fuck.” She heaved and spat on the pavement. Another few seconds and she stood again. The temperature really did a number on her, apparently. Probably had something to with the cold she’d been ignoring for the last few days. “Fuck – hey – yeah, hey. Got your keys on you?”

Cold weather was underrated as far as Caleb was concerned. The cold was all about what hailing from the northeast was about and he actually enjoyed it. ... Okay, he didn’t like losing feeling in his toes, or his nose, or his hands, and he didn’t like his lungs hurting a little when he was outside for too long but that might happen less if he stopped smoking less. So that would never stop hurting and he would have to deal with it. Besides, the campus was quieter in the cold. People were out less because they wanted to and more because they had to. They went from class to their dorms and back as fast as they could. No lingering, no loitering, just hustling.

Caleb was someone who liked the sight the sight of the trees without their leaves, the campus more still than it would be in the next few months. Next month bring spring and the spring brought back the warm weather he didn’t necessarily enjoy. He’d rather spend his time outside now, earbuds in and walking the campus to meet his step count than he would in the summer. And if he got too cold, he could always make his way over to the court for an impromptu practice. Knowing his teammates, someone would be there at almost any hour of the day.

He had planned on breezing right past Fox Tower, going on his merry way until he found himself bored of walking or in need of another joint. Then he would turn back the way he came and go up to his dorm and pray none of his roommates were there to interrupt his mood. Not that he was in a particularly good mood, but a better one than he had been lately. He stopped, a little annoyed at the sight of his teammate as he pulled out one earbud. “What, did you forget yours?”  She didn’t look good, though, so he fixed his attitude before someone else fixed it for him. It had happened more often than he’d like, especially in recent weeks.  “Yeah, here, I got the door.” He didn’t move to open it. “Are you good? You’re not gonna die right here, are you?”

Where: Patch and Mars’ Room

When: February 15th, at the beginning of The Party

Who: @calebfournierx

Patch was still catching his breath as he reached down to fumble for a cigarette in his side table, making a soft triumphant noise as he was able to pull one out and light it up. He took a long slow drag, shutting his eyes and savoring the action and taste as he let the smoke seep out through his lips slowly. He turned to his right and handed it to Caleb with a small smirk on his face, amused by the other’s mused hair and the lipstick prints on his jaw, neck, and shoulders.

“I have to say, this is much more fun than a party,” he purred out, still watching the side of Caleb’s face as he enjoyed the rest of the high that came with touching Caleb. Soon it would be replaced by a rush of guilt and sadness, but for the moment, he felt content. 

Patch currently had one of his ankles hooked over one of Caleb’s calves, but that was the only part of them that was still touching after everything. But being with Caleb wasn’t about affection, despite what Patch wanted deep down. It was about getting off, messing around, being a distraction for everything else. Even though all Patch wanted to do was thread his fingers through Caleb’s hair and rub the back of his neck, he kept his hands firmly laced behind his head. Hell, they usually avoiding kissing, mostly because Patch felt like it was just a touch too emotional for him to do that. 

But despite the very clear difference in interest between the two of them, Patch wouldn’t change anything for it. He liked hearing Caleb weak for him, liked bringing him higher and higher, and making sure when he fell back down he landed gently. It was at the cost of Rosie and in another way, part of himself, but it was worth it. So very worth it.

“But, there is still time if you wanna bounce over there. I won’t be disappointed if you leave,” Patch said, lying through his teeth so easily because it really was easier than explaining why he would be.

Patch was a distraction, but to call him that would be mean. He was a distraction but he was also Caleb’s best friend. They had been glued to each other since Caleb first decided to be the asshole playing Wonderwall out in front of Fox Tower and Patch had found it amusing. They were close, if you ignored that whole mess a few months ago. It wasn’t Caleb’s proudest moment. 

But Patch had always been able to make Caleb smile. Or he used to, anyway. It wasn’t something he himself was aware of, but Caleb had been smiling less and less recently but that didn’t matter really. He would survive and push past the fog that seemed to be clouding his head and swirling all around him. Sometimes it just took a push and a little anesthesia in the form of his favorite hobby. Leaning over the edge of the bed to fish out his cigarette holder from his jacket, he pulled one out and lit up, not caring much for the policy on not smoking in the dorms. 

Smirking, he laid back down, smoking leisurely as Patch smoke. “Oh, I’ll take sex over a party any day.” Who wouldn’t? After a minute, he moved the cigarette from his lips and held it up to Patch’s. This didn’t feel as organic as it had with other people, as pure but it was sex. It wasn’t meant to be pure. It was meant to be rough and fun and occasionally angry, if you had some shit to work through with the other person. 

Caleb says Sweetie’s, but Leo is pretty sure he knows what he means. It’s the middle of the night, and there’s no reason to drive an hour for ice cream.

Leo’s no good at promises, but he tried to make one to himself when he joined the Foxes: he was going to give Class I his fucking all. His father was dead, and Leo wasn’t going to let him get in the way of Leo’s love of Exy anymore. He wasn’t going to get in his own way, either.

It hasn’t been that easy. He’s fallen on his fucking face so many times. He hasn’t quit smoking like he told himself he would, either, no matter how much he likes to pretend, not buying his own cigarettes, bumming them off Grayson—and, in a pinch, whoever’s closest—instead. He still parties with the fucking best of them, he won’t pretend that he’s never gone to practice hungover—but there’s a level he doesn’t let himself get to, now. 

In high school, there had been a part of him that wanted to disappear. To be a person that everyone saw, and everyone liked, and everyone wanted, but to be completely fucking empty inside—because it was better that way, better than being himself. It was at its worst that year after he ran from Edgar Allan: he lost track of time, he lost track of cities; he’d wake up and not know where he was, he still has a tattoo he doesn’t remember getting. 

He knows he’s selfish, but sometimes he feels like fucking trash when he thinks about the Tritons, thinks about how he left them behind without a second thought once he thought he had a shot at Class I. He likes to think that it was his father’s death that saved him from the dark hole he’d fallen into, because that sounded more poetic, but it might actually be the Tritons that did the most to get him back on track.

They showed him that he could be good at something, if he worked hard, if he tried. On the Foxes, he’s still working on that.

“Sweetie’s?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, putting skeptical emphasis on the word. “I’ve got some Half Baked in my freezer, but—” he shrugs, huffs out a laugh “—something tells me it’s not ice cream you’re after. And my ass is already soaking wet, so—”

It’s not too cold for Caleb. He actually enjoys this weather, any kind of weather where he can wear a sweatshirt and maybe a beanie, huddle up into the warmth and have a reason to dive back into his blankets. The sound of rain pattering on a window was usually a comforting sound, one full of relief and the sense of things being brand new when it stopped. Freshly washed, clean, unsullied. It never lasts long, certainly not as long as Caleb would like, but it was enough to have the moments when he could get them.

It doesn’t feel that way tonight. Instead of being a reassuring sound, it just helps Caleb understand why so many people find the rain miserable. It’s dark, though well after sundown so of course it’s dark, but it’s gloomy and the rain clouds have literally been hanging over their heads all day. Any high school English teacher worth their salt would have compared the campus’ mood to the storm they’d been caught in.

He doesn’t find relief in the storm, just more sadness. More emptiness. It’s almost a little difficult to emulate human emotions when you feel so sad but Caleb thinks he’s managing fine. No one has noticed anything different. Or if they did, they didn’t care enough to say anything, which was just as well. He doesn’t want anyone’s pity, or whatever they would pass it off as. He got himself into this damned hole. He would climb out on his own.

Ice cream isn’t what he’s after but he only shrugs at Leo’s accusation. The Foxes, for all of their talk of trying to be better, still had the tendency to fall into familiar habits when the going got tough and a bit of party drugs never hurt anyone. It wouldn’t be the first time Caleb has gotten high to escape the pain of losing, or the pain of anything, and he doubted it would be the last. “I want something to lift my mood. Sue me.” 

He doesn’t think Leo has much intent on taking him up on the offer, so he’s already getting ready to go. “Besides, I was after ice cream. And I’m pretty sure Sweetie’s is the only place open right now where I can get some mint chocolate chip.” It’s not something Leo wants to know, or even cares about, most likely, but it makes Caleb feel a little better. “If you wanna skip the ice cream and go right to Eden’s, that’s also on my agenda.”