you're gonna go far, kid

"Get out of my way and leave me alone." The words were said through gritted teeth, and she was ready to all but shove him aside too when he spoke again, and it made her pause for a second because why the hell would she smell smoke--

But then as she opened her mouth to speak, she realized she did smell smoke....and then she realized that, louder than her heart pounding, she was starting to hear sirens..and then alarms going off inside the building..

Celeste walked away from him then, but she instead went off to the side of the building and she looked down, her eyes widening as she saw firetrucks all piling up at the ground- and dark black smoke billowing out from below them. "Shit."

"Forget you hate me for a minute. We have to get the hell out of here."

He took her hand and went for the door, rushing to get them out. The door opened and they were greeted by smoke. It seemed the farther down the stairs they went, the more the smoke engulfed them. He waved some away with a cough and racked his brain for something. All he could think to do was take off his hoodie and handed it over to her quick. "Put this over you. Cover your nose and mouth with the hood. Try not to breathe too much of this in."

He gave her no time to protest before continuing down the stairs. When he realized they were at his floor, he patted his pockets and knew his phone was inside. Maybe the adrenaline or smoke inhalation had clouded his mind, because he suddenly thought he could make a mad dash to go grab it along with an important journal of his. He reached for the door handle and pressed it open, the metal immediately burning his hand - not a great sign. He let out a hiss and pushed the door open with his arm to see the flames were right there. The flames brushed up against his left arm and he let out a yell before retrieving back into the stairwell, patting his skin to make sure the flames were out. "Fuck, we gotta keep going." he grumbled through gritted teeth.

It probably wasn't her wisest choice to insult the man offering to help, therefore she tried to move swiftly pass her previous remark. "I'm from Palm Springs originally, and like, I'm used to... space." It wasn't the time to boast about what was ultimately her parents' wealth, but in her own head, she was trying to justify her decision to move to the flashier neighborhood. "My brother also lives there, so there's that." She shrugged. "Where do you live then, Prince Judgy?"

The more she talked to him, the less he wanted to help. Between the little jabs and the obvious rich people problems she was going through made him want to keep walking. "Far from Aurora Bay Drive," he answered and then added, "My throne is at the apartments in town." Reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, he lit one quick before saying another word and took a drag. "Why don't you just call your brother then?"

"Oh, now you want to talk? When you made it very fucking clear that you wanted absolutely nothing from me for weeks?" It was a wonder that her voice didn't shake- even as her fingers trembled at her sides and she had to curl them into little fists to keep them as still as she could. She was so stuck in the moment too that the sound of sirens in the distance were barely a focus for her- the sound of her pulse rushing in her ears all the more prevalent as she looked up at him, her brows furrowed and an angry pout on her lips. "What could you possibly have to say to me, Connor?"

So, there he stood in front of her ready to say everything that failed to escape him these past few months with Celeste. "It's not like that," he tried to defend, though there wasn't much to defend. He completely ghosted her and she had every right to be furious at him. Soon as his lips parted to explain everything she needed to hear, his senses were suddenly overwhelmed. For a second, he considered he was having a stroke right then and there as a burning smell engulfed them. The sirens below became louder.

"Do you smell smoke?"

Instead she felt kind of stuck here- not sure of where to go or what to do and she hated it. More than that- she hated him (except she didn't) and she hated how she'd let herself have feelings for someone when she always knew it'd be safer not to. No- she didn't hate him. She hated herself for letting this happen to her.

God she needed a drink. And some fresh air, which was how she ended up walking the familiar path to the roof. It was late enough at night that it was rare for someone else to be up there. So when someone was, and when she realized it wasn't just someone but it was him...Celeste kind of froze on the spot.

But seeing her there in front of him and the pain on her face was enough to snap him back to reality. He was a fool with the inability to just let himself be happy. She turned away and he let out a sigh. A part of him knew he had no right to stop her, but he had to. He couldn’t let her walk away, even if that’s exactly what he had done to her. 

“Cel,” he called out to her and jogged over in an attempt to stop her from opening that door. Boldly, and maybe stupidly, he stepped in front of her to block the door. Of course he’d let her leave if that’s what she chose, but he had to try. “Can we talk? I know… I don’t deserve a second of your time right now, but let me just explain. Please.”

Maybe the trash can is a good idea.

"Guess if you don't got reason to get up early, why be an early bird?" Aiden sighs. He drags a hand down his face then gets to untying his laces. "Everything? I'll let my artist know you're thoughts. He's a bit of an asshole, but I think he might take the criticism in stride." Aiden gives Connor a look, tired but the attitude isn't absent, and kicks off his shoes. Then, his shoulders slump, and he keeps his mouth shut for a long pause.

There is an apology at the tip of his tongue, one he swallows down before it escapes, but the softness of the moment he feels doesn't elude him. "Thanks, man…" slips out, followed with, "I… do appreciate you letting me crash here. And all the other times you have." The few compliments that was to follow after are successfully barred from doing so - Aiden's hard shell closing him back up from being too generous with the compliments and all his appreciation.

He knew he needed to let him get some sleep, but Connor was selfish and wanted to hang around longer than necessary. Just as he was about to shove his legs some to create more room on the couch, he stopped when Aiden expressed gratitude. “Now I know you’re drunk,” he teased. “Only nice when you’re inebriated.” He got up from the couch and went to a nearby closet before pulling out a blanket. He set it by Aiden and gave a half smile. “I’d say ‘you’re always welcome here’, but that’s pretty much a lie… But, y’know. You’re welcome.”

Taking his almost finished plate to the kitchen, Connor briefly cleaned up before leaning on the wall to look over at him. “I guess I’ll let you get some sleep. Maybe we can go to the diner for breakfast in the morning. Your treat.” He flashed a little grin.

Although she'd been enjoying the banter, she was glad to actually receive some assistance with her problem. She walked around to the front of her car, inspecting the hood once more. "Who's the guy? I'll go bang on his door right now and wake him up, because I'm not leaving my baby here." She huffed. It may have sounded theatrical, but she was impulsive enough to do it. "How long's the walk to Aurora Bay Drive anyway? Because that's me."

Connor reached for his phone in his back pocket to call his friend, but hesitated over that call button once she said where she was going. Aurora Bay Drive. God, Connor hated that neighborhood and couldn’t help but pass judgements to those who lived there. Growing up with nothing to his name had instilled that idea in his head that wealth was evil (or at least disgustingly annoying). “You drive this piece of crap but live in Aurora Bay Drive?”

Plus, he liked that one song about balaclavas.

"That's fucked, man. Guess no one's ended up where they thought they would." It would be a lie to say Silas had ever had a five year plan, a five minute one was more his speed, but losing out on five years to a jail cell hadn't even entered his mind as being possible. No wonder it had all gone to hell.

"I'm asking myself the same fucking question." On a loop since the second he stepped foot back in the place, and there still wasn't a good answer to come from it. At the heart of it was what was at the heart of him -- Jordan. As always. He would have had to be waterboarded at the aquarium to readily admit that though.

"You busy or rushing off anywhere?" He glanced to one of the tacked up fliers again, wondering how pressing that could really be. "You wanna get a drink and catch up? Don't know if I can summarise the last seven years without some Henny."

There was a point in time Connor considered he'd be spending the rest of his days in the band, playing the drums with calloused hands and making music with the people he was closest to. That dream felt dead and gone.

He didn't expect any of this just as much as Silas probably didn't expect to be thrown into prison.

"You can say that again," he mumbled and forced a thinned lip smile.

Connor looked at the crooked flyer on the lamp post and the rest he had thrown into the trash before looking back at his friend. He was expected back at the shop for walk ins that day, which was always his least favorite thing to do.

"I've got nothing going on," he lied and nodded toward the street. "Let's go. I might even buy the first round if you make the details juicy."

"Oh, you're funny. Were you a clown in another life?" She retorted, although not her best crack at sarcasm. There was an eye roll after he stated the obvious and she huffed, folding her arms. "Oh my god, really?" She said dramatically, with an audible gasp. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Are you going to help me or not?"

He stepped closer and watched the smoke roll from the hood and grimaced at the sight. Whenever she asked if he was going to help, he couldn't help but look at her and then look around him as if she must be talking to someone else. "You're asking the guy without a car to help you with your car," he informed her and then added, "I don't know shit about cars. But I do know it shouldn't be smoking like that." Connor then attempted to stop being a little shit and offered some real help. "I know a guy who might help, but he's not very reliable at this time. You'll have to take it to Pitstop in the morning. I doubt a tow truck will even come tonight." Though Aurora Bay wasn't exactly a tiny town, it definitely had the small town mentality. Everything seemed closed at night - besides the diner.

It reminded her of the days backstage and little covert check-ins with each other -- he seems keyed up tonight, did you see him take anything, is this going too far?

"I think we all just...kind of all forget how fresh all of this is, you know?" Van thinks out loud slowly, letting out a heavy breath and punctuating it with a drink.

Connor leaving the band, X overdosing and rehab, Van's divorce -- everything had gone so fast and furious, hit after hit, that it was easy to feel like they'd collectively lived lifetimes in a matter of months.

"It's only been two years. Like, if all of this was some conceptual baby it wouldn't even be walking right yet, you know? It makes sense that there's so much still just under the surface for all of us."

Like her near religious amount of guilt that is always just a crack away from rearing it's ugly head.

"And you know him -- he holds a grudge like a vice. And you shoot from the heart. I don't think you're the bad guy from not being able to resolve this right now, Connor. I mean, fuck, I'm not over everything yet either."

Somehow there were times when being in Submergence felt like it was just yesterday, yet in the same vein, it already felt like a lifetime had passed. That was the Xavier Effect, Connor liked to joke. Time didn’t make much sense when chaos was all blurred into strings of incidents of extreme highs and the lowest lows. 

Condensation formed on his glass and he focused on the drips as she talked some sense into him. She always talked sense into him. 

“I just wish I could move on from it all. Two years is short, but god, feels like fucking decades. He was like a brother to me, y’know. Y’all were the only family I had and now it’s like he died or something.” He supposed he held onto the grudge just as tightly as X did. Especially considering all the grace Van had shown X. All the grace he didn’t deserve.

He sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to apologize to him. I know he wants me to. But, I will apologize to you.” It was long overdue, really. He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. It was always hard for him to admit his faults. “I put you in a shitty position. I wasn’t really there for you either. I know you were going through a lot. I hope you know I am sorry for that.”

open: @aurorabaystarter

It was almost typical that her car had to break down on her first evening in town. She hadn't even picked up the keys to her new residence yet and her car already couldn't stomach the move from Palm Springs.

She was stood on the sidewalk under a dimly lit street lamp, watching the smoke escape through the cracks of her hood with pursed lips. After a few minutes of contemplating her next move, her eyes caught sight of a stranger heading in her direction. "If you're going to rob me or something, you should know who you're messing with." She recited, dramatically, while instinctively shuffling her car keys around until the metal intertwined her fingers. "I took a self-defense class at UCLA once and they said I had potential, so... back off."

Finishing off his cigarette and blasting music a little too loudly in one ear, he almost didn't hear the person speak out to him. Connor looked over and stopped in his tracks, suddenly aware of how sketchy he probably looked. It didn't help that he had the hood of his jacket on his head. He put his hood down and then put up his hands in playful defense. A small smirk formed on his lips and he refrained from laughing. "Shit. You had potential? You should take up professional fighting and that be your slogan. Because it's terrifying." It was then he noticed the car and the misfortune she was in. "I don't think your car's supposed to be smoking like that." No shit.

He can already feel himself coming down from the buzz, that dopamine dump fading and the headache threatening to set in. It's as if Connor reads his mind. Or Connor just knows well enough with the years he has under his belt that easily surpasses Aiden's life experience. "Ah, thanks. You know how to make a guy feel better. It's what I come by for - the gentle words of reassurance." Words laden with heavy sarcasm, but Aiden really doesn't mind. Of course he looks like shit.

Hair dried with sweat from the kitchen and then drinking after shift, tired, having walked several miles - he can appreciate not being given a pity party for his decisions. An arm stretches out for the Advil and water, both of which he holds in his lap while swallowing dryly. "Thanks… this is what I get for eating nothing but a breakfast burrito yesterday. Huh. What are you doing up so late, anyway? Not that I'm complainin'.'" @connorxrose

Despite being an inherently messy person, Connor’s apartment was always quite tidy and put together well. It’s half the reason why Connor dipped away for a moment to retrieve the bathroom’s trash bin. He placed it by Aiden’s feet and nodded towards it. “If you’re going to spew, spew in there. Or you’ll owe me a new couch.” Again, more of that tough love. Though, he was being honest - he really loved that couch. 

Connor went to heat up the plate he made of fajitas, still chewing on some of the cold meat he took a bite of before. He added some more on his plate in case Aiden could use a bite to eat, though he wasn’t so sure how sick he likely was of eating the food of his workplace. 

“I’m usually awake at this time,” he explained, talking to him across the room. “Creature of the night.” Or, also known as, a glorified insomniac. He wasn’t ready to admit that. Once the microwave beeped at him, Connor took his plate and moved back into the living room, plopping down on the other end of the couch. “I was working on some tattoo ideas, but everything’s been shit tonight. Like your tattoo.” Of course had to add a playful jab in there somewhere, though the jab was half at himself.

"You're saying that even if I asked you to tattoo live, laugh, love across my ribs or god forbid, an infinity symbol, you'd find some way to make sure that your eyes didn't roll back out the back of your head?" Her eyebrow quirked, to challenge him. "Somehow I think you'd sooner give yourself a stroke," Cherry joked, shaking her head. But a promise was a promise and if she was going to make him art, she wanted confirmation of a deal well struck.

His face was stone cold. The images of tattoos he had begrudgingly done in the past swarmed his mind as she listed off the average tattoo artist’s nightmare. Finally, he couldn’t help it. He rolled his eyes at the sheer mention of it all. “Okay, don’t be ridiculous. Next you’re going to tell me you want a damn dream catcher, too.” 

Connor thinned his lips and held up his hands while attempting to ground himself. “But… stroke or not, I’d do whatever tattoo you want. Even if it’s ridiculously shitty.” He smirked and could tell she was already beginning to think of what she could create for him. “You have to admit making something completely creepy would be fun, right?”