𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

we get it, we get it, bailey has a new character ... just sit there and eat your food while i drop this shitty intro post. i’m not gonna bore y’all with stuff abt me, i’m nowhere near as interesting as this dude. get a load of this guy, GRANT HOFFMAN. it’s still acab tho 

TW: mentions of drinking, drugs, and homicide

        𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 thought she was cute. big deal. who cared if she’d been bald ? plenty of dudes were bald, and they’d been cute too. whatever.

   ❛   you were a girl, of course you were cute.   ❜    he says it with a wave of his hand, brushing it off. he doesn’t want to linger on topic      ————     matters of the heart, or the penis, were not his forte. she turns her head and he wonders briefly if he’s offended her, but then she turns back and he catches the faint blush that lingered on her cheeks. oh. he’d embarrassed her.

  ❛   it’d make sense if you’d bother to learn. i mean … i guess it’s partially nostalgic. i mean, i grew up watching it every sunday, playing it with my dad and then on a team … to you it just looks like dudes beating on each other. for me, it’s the only connection i have with my dad anymore.   ❜     a shrug, nonchalant. he doesn’t talk about family much     ————    particularly not his dad. it’s about as vulnerable as he gets.

if she wasn’t embarrassed before, she certainly was now. for someone who hadn’t received a lick of that sort of positive attention in a long time, it made sense that she would read too far into it. alden doesn’t blush from this round of embarrassment, instead she settles for moving short hair away from her face and refocusing her attention on the television screen. right, she wanted to say, makes sense. she swallowed down the lump in her throat before it could fully form and finds it best that the topic remains on football, even if she disliked it. 

apathy :    he was used to it, and once — arguably still — he’d embodied it. but it really is different coming out of somebody else’s mouth. the sole purpose was to desensitise, sometimes shock, and he knew that. HE WAS THAT. still… it takes him a moment, like he’s sure it’d done others with him, to swallow it. he laughs, though. because while morbid, it was funny.

❛   you’re not being very convincing, i can tell you that much…   ❜

songwriting, it hadn’t been a sizeable portion on his plate lately. and before two weeks ago, he’d had a writer’s block to end all writer’s blocks. then… well, just then. it was nothing to be read by ANYONE, though. ever. 

❛   i can actually think about a million and one better ways to spend the afternoon… shooting myself being a shoe - in for the top three.   ❜

her brows raise in either confusion or frustration, she can’t decide which she feels the most. not frustrated at him, though, because it was if though they’d been through enough together for her to cut him some slack in that way. instead her discontent was for their situation –– there truly wasn’t SHIT to do in small towns. 

he flicks through the records,  but  nothing  really  sticks,  like  he’s  a  factory  worker  going  through  the  motions  whilst  his  mind  mulls  on  her  words.  ‘      lame  attempt.        ’  the  words  drift,  half-committed  to  them,  half-committed  in  keeping  up  the  pretence  that  he’s  actually  interested  in  all  the  music  his  fingers  are  scrolling  through.  eventually,  after  thirty  seconds  or  so,  he  gives  up  the  act  entirely,  looking  over  to  her,  lids  weigh  heavy  on  tired  eyes.  ‘      high  school’s  not  meant  to  be  easy.  people  who  had  an  easy  time  in  high  school  are  the  same  people  who  peaked  in  high  school.        ’  he  states,  matter-of-factly,  but  it’s  a  silent  affirmation  that  yes,  high  school  was  hard.  shaking  his  head,  he  holds  back  a  scoff,  it  settles  at  the  back  of  his  mouth  and  comes  out  like  he’s  clearing  his  throat.  ‘      what,  so  we’ve  got  some  kind  of  bond  now  ?      ’

so yeah, she definitely needed a better approach. for a person who read as many books as she did, one would think she understood the basis of forming a half-way decent conversation, though this clearly hadn’t been the case. a nerve had been touched, it appeared, and truthfully she didn’t know how to talk herself out of this. she wanted to retreat but was too stubborn to do so, regardless if it was for her own good. so instead she continued, looking less and less enthusiastic as their conversation –– if you could even call it that –– moved along. 

   teddy wasn’t much of a connector either. quiet, shy  —  almost painfully, if you asked anyone that knew him. a nerd by all accounts, though he knows he’d be equally as unlikely to find a friend in a comic book store than he would walking down the street. that was simply on the virtue of him avoiding conversation. if he could help it.   ❛   not to,   ❜   he didn’t know alden, really, outside of julian  —  who teddy assumed figured him more begrudgingly a bandmate than a friend, so teddy himself could hardly find alden to be one.

   he didn’t have many, that was true. 

   ❛  not much of a p-people person ?   ❜   he liked alden well enough — she was smart, that at least he knew, and it was admirable. and even if he reserved his pessimism exclusively to himself, it was another link of similarity.

out of everyone in that stupid band, teddy was the person alden knew the LEAST about, whether it was an intentional decision on his part or his not. he didn’t seem very social and forthcoming with information on himself, not one to open up to just anyone. that was something the blonde could appreciate in a person because, well ... she was the same. perhaps that was why she said what she did  ––  that and because she’d come to learn that life was too short to make many bonds. after all, they’d mean nothing one day. 

        wow. the exclamation brings the ghost of a smile to his face. not an entirely unexpected reaction, but the way she says it — curious, not disgusted — is unusual enough to be amusing. endearing, almost. ❝ well, part of it is job security. they can’t get rid of me if there’s people going down left and right, can they? always need someone around to catalog what killed them. ❞ especially when there’s something frightening going around. it means there’s less competition, too. who wants a job working with people that might infect them, right? only those with a tolerance for risk. and viscera, of course.

       ❝ but beyond all that, i think most people have a deep-seated fascination with death. most people try to avoid it; i chose to embrace it. ❞ he shrugs a shoulder. ❝ there’s almost a certain intimacy in it, too. working with them, i mean. the dead aren’t like living people — they can’t hide anything from you. the secrets they had in life, you can almost always find in death, somewhere inside them. ❞ he takes a puff from his cigarette. can’t forget those. ❝ and then, ❞ another pause; ❝ i’ve just always been interested in what people look like on the inside. ❞ still is, even all these years later.

she was almost tempted to reach for the notepad in her backpack, eager to jot down everything he was saying. he WASN’T wrong  ––  there was always going to be a need for the profession, especially with the ever-present threat of cwd. the conversation began to feel like a twist of reality and fiction; his perspective unique in the sense that she’d never met anyone who held those beliefs, though she’d certainly written and read fictionalized characters just as passionate about death. so instead she takes mental notes, not just on his words but everything about the interaction. the constant smoking, for instance. probably not the best for her to be around ( second hand smoke and all ), but a noteworthy characteristic nonetheless. 

                𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐒 the only connection the two have     —      and julian’s his cousin, not hers. they don’t exactly connect on that many levels, at least not what he sees on the surface     —      she sees him as a dumb ex - jock and he doesn’t really know what he thinks of her. at least, that’s his assumption of their relationship     —       and you know what they say about assuming !

          ❛     listen. not all of us could be the cute cool loser in high school. some of us had expectations we were forced to live up to.     ❜

                he shrugs, taking a hit of the joint in his hand, attention still focused on the television and the game playing out on it. despite the fact that football star was his dad’s expectation, noah didn’t complain     —      he liked football. and even though torn acl in the last game of the season his senior year had held him back from continuing in college, he still enjoyed throwing one around with the boys, when he could convince them they wouldn’t die from a few throws. dramatic. 

alden had always struggled with self esteem issues. in middle school her mom forced her to get a pixie cut that she definitely couldn’t rock and in high school, she’d lost all of her hair from her treatments. she’d never fully felt ... well, good about herself. so hearing the adjective ‘ cute ’ in a sentence about her, she nearly had to do a double take. that and grimace. she knew that she wasn’t ugly, of course, but it felt wrong to hear herself described that way. 

          “ you thought i was cute? gross. ”

it wasn’t anything against him at all –– just an inability to take a compliment ( if that’s what it was ). especially coming from someone like noah. sure, alden didn’t give half a shit about football or the fact that he played it, but she wasn’t blind. her cheeks gather warmth from what she hopes is embarrassment, causing her to briefly turn away from him until they cooled down.

 he detests how the mall is the only place  worth  going  in  this  shit  town,  almost  as  much  as  he  hates  how  much  it’s  a  hub  for  seeing  familiar  faces.  it  takes  a  moment  to  really  acknowledge  that  he’s  going  to  have  to  do  this,  taking  a  deep,  articulated  breath  and  reluctantly  accepting  that  he  has  to  make  conversation.  turning,  he  expects  to  see  a  relic  from  high  school,  that  her  comment’s  some  weak  attempt  at  witty  repartee,  like  ha  !  you  seem  like  someone  who  was  unpopular  in  high  school,  because  you  were,  because  i  know  you,  and  he’d  be  forced  to  hold  his  tongue  because  he’s  in  public  and  politeness  is  apparently  of  the  utmost  importance.  instead,  he’s  faced  with  someone  he  barely  recognizes.  ‘      nice  one.  what  do  you  want  ?        ’  it’s  not  ill-intentioned,  not  entirely,  he’s  just  tired  (  as  if  that  gives  him  free  reign  to  be  a  complete  grump  ).

what did she expect? certainly not a thank you, but she truthfully didn’t have any ill-intentions. if she did, alden thought, her words would’ve been a lot sharper. it was more of an observation and one that she could relate to, more so than she would let on. the blonde looks confused for a moment before shrugging, having to question her own objective. to have a conversation? it was a big stretch –– for someone as introverted her to go up to someone saying something as bold as that and expect a dialogue. 

julian didn’t like to think about it.  his cancer, that was.  or his ex - cancer…  whatever they now were, he liked it off his mind.  IT WAS SOMETHING THAT ONCE DEFINED HIM — because it had to and then because he let it, and now that it was vacant from his bones  (  as far as he knew  ) what else was there ?  moving on was easier said than done yet it’s something he attempts.  harder, though, when a walking reminder of that time sat before him.  which wasn’t to say he disliked her company…  rather that it was painless to slip back into that fatalistic mindset when he was in it.  attention, partially gifted to fraying jeans, redirects itself the way of alden, though, when food comes flying.

                       ❛    and what do you want me to do about it ?   ❜     he questions, hurling a fry of his own. 

if anything good came out of treatment, it was julian apolskis. well, that and going into remission for the first time. for someone who usually preferred solitude, alden was more than grateful to meet someone who truly understood what it was like to undergo all the poking and prodding that came along with cancer. even on her second time around after relapse, she knew that there would always be a friend there who knew what it was like. that was far more than she could say for any of her other friends –– well, of her past friends. she didn’t have very many after graduating high school and nearly turning into a complete recluse. that’s why she liked hanging out with him, even when that lull falls.

         with a few choice exceptions, most people he knows avoid talking about work with him. something about getting a bit to excitable at times seems to put people off. especially recently. who would have thought? regardless of how unusual the question is, he isn’t about to reject an opportunity to talk about dead things. the day he does is the day he’s the one being carted off to the morgue.

         ❝ twenty. ❞ an easy answer, gifted with a sharp-toothed grin. ❝ but to be totally honest, i don’t have to look forward to it — i’m already living it. if i didn’t love my job as much as i do, i think i’d be overworked. ❞

it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the subject was something he was very passionate about, regardless of how macabre it came across to others. that fascinated her in a lot of ways and she deeply appreciated his honesty. perhaps, given the direction of the conversation, this was something she could write about. his answer was one she anticipated, though actually hearing it out loud caused both brows to raise and pale pink lips to mouth “ wow ”. while this was something she knew she would never understand personally, she couldn’t help but press further. for her own interest and the sake of a possible short story, his rationale and reasoning were important. 

they’d been hanging out for an hour now and a lull in conversation began to develop, leaving the two to sit in silence. one would think that silence is something that alden would enjoy, and usually it would be, but not when she’s hanging out with someone. wasn’t the whole point to talk and catch up? the blonde grabbed the closest thing to her, a stale french fry from the fast food they ate earlier, and tossed it at him. a pretty good shot, honestly. 

she knew it was going to be a morbid question before she even asked it, but that’s what he was into right? morbid stuff  ––  that’s what she considered working in a morgue as. working around dead things. it was different for her, though, see she only ever wrote about it. and with all the buzz surrounding CWD, alden was considerably interested in his perspective. if things got worse, she imagined that business would be booming for him. 

alden liked to people watch, especially at the mall. she would sit right in the middle of the food court and study everyone who entered her line of sight. there were a few familiar faces that she would see every time she paid a visit to the fort elms mall, and tucker was one of them. understandably, he was hard to miss. they’d never interacted before but she knew he worked security. so today, after finishing her weekly oreo mcflurry, she decided to approach him. jesus, he seemed a lot taller up close than he did from across the food court. eye contact had been made as she walked toward him, her smaller stature nearly making her insecure. what does alden do with insecurities? well, she projects them in a joking, lighthearted way. or that’s how she hopes it comes across. wouldn’t wanna be sent to MALL JAIL.

truth be told, she considered noah to be a half-friend. someone who you never hang out with alone but you’re friendly with when you’re around them. they’d only met because of juli –– in fact, he was their only connection. sure, she saw him around in high school, but never cared enough to go to any football games. god, he played football. how cliche. outside of high school, however, he seemed a lot cooler. in a band ( yes it was penis of diversion, but still ) and was a dealer. certainly not the character arch she would’ve predicted, but it interested her nonetheless. except when he talked about football ... that subject of conversation made it pretty easy to pick on him.

alden liked to think she was halfway decent at reading people. after years of observing them and then later writing about their complexities, it wasn’t particularly hard to pick up on someone’s vibe. not their aura or anything, she didn’t believe in any of that hippie mumbo jumbo, just a general sense of who they might be based off the way they carried themselves. like lou holstad, for instance. she never went to school with him but had seen him around town plenty of times to get a general impression before they’d even met. sometimes you shouldn’t judge a book based off its cover but as someone who loved books, alden felt entitled to do so.