ʚ・ click, click・ɞ

hi friends, clearly this is a bit of a transitional period for my blog, so i'm going to hit you with two more changes and i am sorry in advance for any confusion this is going to cause - but i am going to be changing my url one more time - storyfm > subatomicblip > cliqbaits - as i have decided to merge my oc multi with this one. this should not affect any threads other than the url change, and I am sorry for the confusion and inconveniences this might cause.

"a while…" he mumbled, letting his shoulders drop, relaxing into wes' touch. he should have been back hours ago, but this was where he'd rather be, and so he'd stay a while longer. "why don't you try to rest. i'll stay until you fall asleep." he promised, kissing wes slowly before settling on the bed next to him, and pulling his arms around the blonde, "one day things are going to be different." he added, no explanation needed, because they'd been saying it to each other since they were kids. one day…but they both knew deep down that day would never come. not in the life they'd been born into. there was only one way out - and running wasn't an option. "sleep now baby."

wren’s genuinely baffled when teo looks at him like he’s gobsmacked, like this is news or confusing somehow. he wants to be irritated and snap at teo about the laundry list of wrongs and perceived slights, but he can’t bring himself to do it with the way the other’s looking at him, asking him if he did something with such an innocence that it softens every hardened edge that wren had sharpened ready for the defenses.

something in him dissipates, like letting the steam out, and he watches teo curiously as he frowns, looks at the ground, takes that fragile and shaking breath as he apologizes, even though he doesn’t quite know what he’s apologizing for. it’s endearing, wren thinks, and the smallest of smiles creeps up on his lips. he tucks golden blond curls behind an ear and steps closer, especially as the confession falls from teo’s lips. i like you a lot, wren. it matters more than being told how cool teo perceives him to be (like that’s hard?). “it’s not anything you’ve really done, per se, more, like, subtle shit… it feels like you’re always avoiding me. even now, you’re suggesting i leave? like, why? you don’t want to hang out if i’m so cool?” he asks, catching teo’s gaze with his own curious eyes. “i like you, too, shit, teo…” he pushes the other’s shoulder playfully. “take advantage of the situation… stop walking around like you’re a ghost! people want to talk to you, want to know you. besides, that whole awkward thing you got going on is pretty cute.”

"i'm sorry." and he is, but after a moment he's trying not to break into a grin, what wren describes is not him trying to push wren away, or make him feel othered, but he doesn't know how to explain himself, and if he couldn't he's not sure he's ready to make that sort of assertion. no one knows he's gay. he's only just figured it out himself. and telling wren will only lead to heartache, of that teo is sure. "i just…i figured someone like you would have better things to do, than wrap silverware and talk to…well…me?" he shrugged, "no one talks to me. i'm…" a ghost. that's how he's always seen himself, so it renders him speechless to hear wren say it, as if he's sensed the ghost hovering nearby, waiting to be noticed, but just as scared of the very same thing. "i don't think anyone…no.." he laughed humorlessly at that. no one wants to talk to him. besides his sisters maybe. his parents rarely even did, unless it was about the restaurant or school. at some point he'd just realized he wasn't that interesting of a person. not like wren. who everyone seemed to gravitate towards, leaning in to take in every second of whatever story he told, embellished with funny anecdotes, and hitting all the right notes to make people laugh and connect. teo could never imaging anyone hanging on his words in such a way.

"no." he answered in response, shaking his head, "thank you but no." he shrugged, "you are welcome to stay…i really didn't mean to upset you. i just…i assumed you'd want to leave."

eddie’s anxiety about it bleeds into their every interaction. they don’t live together (yet! eli reminds himself with perhaps too much hope), but they see each other frequently enough because eli is never satiated. it’s eddie. that’s it. eddieeddieeddie. that’s all he can think about to the point that his brain is practically swiss cheese outside of all the classes he’s attending, busting his ass to stay at the top of the game because he has to be the best at something. and school’s always been his gig. eli does his best to quell the storm that torments his lover, but he doesn’t understand the whole gravity of it. he’s too naive about the situation, can’t see the forest for the trees – really. but eddie does. eddie knows danger is looming, that the fucking hawthornes, of all people, will never accept a man like him into their fold. he’s less than, marred by society – a pockmarked, diseased thing to be kept at a distance. but eli doesn’t see the world they do, he’s never fit in with them. all he can see is all the good in eddie, all the shit he’s overcome, how he’s had a gun to his head from the moment of his birth and just kept walking forward, dodging those bullets whatever way he could. but this is inevitable. his mother and father (and sister) know he’s seriously seeing someone. the introductions have to be made. and it’s gone on too long.

he sighs, a calloused hand rubbing his now clean-shaven face and nods at eli's text, walking over to his tiny closet in the house that he's had under renovation since he bought it three years ago and finds a suit that brings on a wave of nausea. it's beautiful. and eddie doesn't even want to begin to think about how much it cost, because he already knows that even though financially he's no longer struggling, he still couldn't afford it.

elijah grins when the guy says he can do weed. “perfect. i’ll take it, then.” he says, figuring every dealer from here to the other side of the country claims to have the good shit, and he doesn’t really care as long as it gets the job done. he knows he’s been overcharged for lesser shit, comes with the territory of being a stupid rich kid. but tonight? he’s getting it for free. who cares if it’s reggie? he’s got a hot guy to share it with, and that’s more than he can say most nights.

as soon as the stranger reacts to what eli’s said, he wishes he could take it back. he frowns a little, uneasy on his own feet. if that’s what it takes. he completely misses the smirk on the broader man’s lips and flushes slightly, thankful that it’s dark outside and they’re not immediately under a street lamp.

he shifts backward when the other guy gets closer, like elijah’s crossed a line and eddie’s just leaning into it because he thinks he owes the younger guy something. he does, sort of, but not his body, not his time, and elijah’s not going to take advantage of it. “only if you’re into it. i’ll be icked out otherwise.” he confesses, eyes scanning the dude’s face. “my name’s elijah, by the way.” he says, thinking they should probably know each other’s names if he’s going to leave here with the guy.

he sort of despises the implication that he’d be doing this as a fuck you to his family, and huffs a sigh. “how could it be a fuck you to them if they don’t even know?” he asks, voice quiet but curious. he nods his head, though, when asked if he wants to get out of here. “never wanted something more.” he confesses and falls into line behind the other guy, heading toward his truck. “why’d you park so far away?”

"yeah?" he grins, his offer accepted, and it's the first time in a while he's offered a freebie and really meant it. this guy, this rich kid would never have to pay for a thing from eddie if eddie had any say in the matter. he might hand over his entire stash right now if demanded, and still manage to leave the interaction feeling like he got the fair end of the deal. "well then i think we should get out of here." he agreed, wishing it wasn't so dark, wishing they weren't so out in the open and he might be able to offer something more than the stash in his pocket to satiate the other.

"elijah."

the word rolled off his tongue in a way that felt almost familiar, and he let it process through his brain, connecting it to soft facial features, that sexy voice and committing it into the deepest parts of his brain. "elijah." he repeated, "i'm eddie." he says after a moment, in truth he hasn't been called eddie by anyone in years - other than his mother. it's buck to everyone else, he's been buck for as long as he can remember. but elijah has him wanting to try on something new, "well…edward, but not even my mother calls me that." he adds on with a soft laugh, folding his arms across his chest as elijah continues.

oh. the implications of that are dangerous. the idea that eddie might not just be a dance on the wild side. he shakes off the thought immediately though. even rich kids liked a thrill every now and again, even a secret one. and eddie was happy to comply, to be used by elijah for the night, or however long he needed. "you'll see." he added with a grin, looking to elijah, taking in his face again, he didn't want to forget a single thing. by the time they reached eddie's beat up truck, looking like he'd only just driving it out of the wrecking yard and saved it from being turned into a cube of scrap metal, "that's why." he gestured vaguely in the direction of the vehicle and walked over to the passenger side, pulling the door open for elijah to climb into it. "don't worry…i'll keep you safe." he promised, and meant it more than he'd meant anything that had come before this.

"You wanted a break. You got it. You can't just come in here and try to get me back just because you're in a writing slump." Although - Part of Kyle feels a little flattered. Which is the fucking problem - Stop it. He's so tired. And lonely. And sick of watching Kip and Scott flirting.

"i didn't want a break." a lie. but he wasn't about to get down to the technicalities of their break up, "i just needed space. i'm an artist…sometimes i just need the freedom to express myself." he explained, his eyes meeting kyle and there's a sincerity in them that he rarely shows. he misses kyle. misses the way they are together, the way kyle inspires him.

rafferty’s stupid for sending it and almost consumed by the shame of it. as soon as he hits the up arrow to send the message off into the ether, he has to put his phone beside him, face down so he’s not tempted to face his mistake. he picks up a glass of vodka, chilled, from beside him and swallows down a bitter mouthful. rick’s the first man he ever loved, and he’s given pieces of himself to the older guy that he can never get back. he’s okay with that, though, romanticizing the notion that maybe, one day, they’ll find their way back to each other again.

or maybe not.

your first great love doesn’t have to be your last, but isn’t it so romantic? an enticing and lovey thought?

he’s not mad at shep for not listening to his warnings – he got over that a long time ago. he’s just a little jaded with how rick reacted afterward, letting what they had unravel like thread from a spool rolling across the floor, forgotten in the corner. at least until it’s convenient, or until jericho does some reminding. sending texts like a kick.

[ sms → be strong ] i need it [ sms → be strong ] i need you

he swallows down the rest of the measure of alcohol he’s poured and shifts back down in the sofa, phone screen unlocked, message page with shep open so he can watch the next messages as they pour in. the desperation and need haven’t left him, still buried within the very fabric of his dna. he doesn’t think he’ll ever escape this, but he doesn’t think he wants to, either.

[ sms ⇋ echo ] our spot.

because nothing else needs to be said. the safe house had always been a middle ground for them, especially since things had fallen apart. it's a halfway house for their feelings, a place to put everything rick pushed aside now and only resorted to on nights like this. he's out of his house in minutes, flying through the city in a daze until he reaches the destination where he'll get his fix. they have to stop this. they're compromised, but they have been for years. and beyond that, he knows about echo and ranger. he knows that look in echo's eyes, knows he's lost him already, but he'll hold on until the ship is entirely sank.

"i thought you were abroad?" he questioned, as soon as he climbed out of his car to find jericho waiting for him, the sight enough to make him reach into his pocket for his totem again, sliding finger tips over the ridges. you're not dreaming. he reminds himself when he walks over, his hand reaching to touch jericho's face, pulling him close and kissing him roughly. "let's get out of the open…"

he sits through the meeting and listens to what’s pitched, turning toward griffin when all the is have been dotted and ts crossed. “i’m a blank slate, though, you know me. i’m aching for something queer, something maybe a little horrifying… you know?” he asks with a grin. “let’s go get lunch and discuss this further?” he suggests. “you have a brilliant mind, and i’ve been meaning to pick it for some time.”

"i'd like that. are you free now?" he asked, though he wasn't sure how brilliant his mind was lately, the block he'd had for months still felt firmly lodged into place, but he had faith that excitement about a new project might pry it loose, open the floodgates again and usher him into a new era where he could write without a crush weight on his chest. where every word didn't feel like loss. "my brain is on the table for you doc. not sure how much good stuff you'll find in there though, it's been on a bit of a hiatus lately, i'm afraid."