PEDESTRIAN AT BEST.

When Ford reaches out for him, TJ almost flinches — almost, because he’s able to stop himself, thinking that it’s fine, it’s just Ford. With TJ’s neverending list of issues with touching and being touched by other people, Ford’s the only one that doesn’t make him completely freak out. Once he settles into the touch, he feels okay with it, even feels grateful for it. All of the things he’s just said are making TJ freak out and the hand on his shoulder grounds him. Ford’s words and the hint of laughter behind them also help, making a corner of TJ’s lips turn up in a small smile. “I don’t see how any of what you’ve just told me is irrelevant bullshit, man,” he says with a small shrug. None of the things either of them has just said is irrelevant bullshit, quite the opposite, really. 

He knew this was coming; Ford wasn’t just gonna let the mention of TJ’s ex just slide without any questions. For a second TJ wants to change the subject, opt out of answering but then, again, it’s Ford, why should he. There’s literally nothing in this world that TJ wouldn’t tell Ford and it’s honestly surprising that he still hasn’t heard the whole story. But that’s just TJ and his inability to talk about himself and his feelings for you. “Well, long story short, he was a total asshole,” TJ says and laughs dryly, trying to ease himself into answering Ford’s question. Where does he even start?

“I was really young and I was still recovering from my accident so I was doing kinda shit. But I was prospecting and Matt was my sponsor and shit just kinda happened. Was okay at first,” TJ shrugs and pauses, thinking about what he should say exactly. “He turned out to be an asshole. Cheated on me all the time, for starters. Used to say all kinds of nasty shit to me. About the way I look,” he goes on and almost chokes on the last bit from how tight his throat gets. That’s the part he hates thinking about the most because in an instant he can hear Matt’s voice in his head. Nobody else is gonna want you looking like that. That’s probably the one thing that’s stuck to TJ the most and the one he still can’t let go of. Even worse, most of the time, he still believes it. “Probably was right, though, I mean, look at me,” TJ scoffs and regrets saying it out loud almost immediately. That’s why he makes sure to avoid Ford’s gaze.

“It lasted for like a year, I got patched in, he went nomad right after and that was it,” TJ shrugs and then finally looks up at Ford. “Thought we were gonna talk about you, though. Not me.”

There’s anger boiling inside the pit of Ford’s stomach at what TJ says next. He couldn’t even comprehend the kindness he’s offered him just moments ago because now it really does become irrelevant. Ford and abuse was a warped section of territory. He’s spent so many years avoiding his own experience with abuse, mainly because sometimes even the thought of it brings him right back to that place. He suddenly sees himself in Marie’s grasp, her kissing his face one moment but then smacking him the next. Then he pictures his brothers, tossing him around like a football, and then Marie’s boyfriends beating him up in order to prove some kind of point. To make him a man, they’d say. It haunts him and he’s never accepted it. But in a weird way, he has, feeling as though he deserved all that he’s endured.

But when it came to friends, people he cared about, it was unacceptable. It kickstarts that anger in him that never quite goes to sleep. It awakens again, brows knitting together as TJ continues. It becomes even more prominent the moment he mentions that this so-called Matt made comments about the way he looks. “Shut the fuck up,” Ford starts the instant TJ insults himself, “Don’t ever say that shit again.” There was another thing, Ford was never exactly amazing at reassuring others or making them feel better. At least not when he’s angry. He does his best, but there’s something about him that always came off a little too harsh. Blunt, even. Though he claims it’s just honesty and he’ll swear most people deserve that said honesty, but it can sometimes come off just a little insensitive. He hopes by now that TJ understands where his true intentions reside. “You — Dude, you’re so hot. That’s nuts. Was this dude fuckin’ braindead or something?”

Once again, he’s not exactly sure how to express any kind of reassurance. Did TJ want that from him? Did he want to be uplifted? Did he want advice? It was hard to navigate the timing of the moment, but Ford always has a hard time with that anyway. So, he goes with his guts, moving to turn towards his friend fully, hands resting on his own knees. “Sometimes people are just fucking assholes. I’ve spent so much time trying to make excuses, you know? For everyone. Trying to figure out why they would do this or whatever the fuck. After a while, you start blamin’ yourself because you can’t find a damn reason because as people, we always need a reason. There’s gotta be something, right? There has to be. But that’s the thing, man, people just fucking suck sometimes. People are just assholes just because.” Then he scoffs, “You’re gorgeous, man. Like, that’s crazy. You’re cool too and really funny. Any dude would be damn lucky to be with you. How’d you pick the one gay asshole in the gang too? Only you would. You couldn’t just fuck Ollie like the rest of ‘em?” As always, he tries to lighten the situation, and leans in to playfully smack TJ on his good arm. He laughs again, “Alright, let’s stop being corny. I can’t handle anymore of this. I think we should fuck Matt up, though. You know where he is now?”

         When Ford finally tells him what’s up, TJ realizes that he’s probably the worst possible person that the other could talk about this with. Shit like this, being in love with other people, TJ hasn’t dealt with that in years and he doesn’t even know what sort of things he should be telling Ford, what kind of words (advice? Probably too much of a stretch, TJ is fucking garbage at advice) would work as a comfort to his friend. And then TJ realizes, as Ford continues talking, that the only relationship experience he can take from hits pretty close to what he’s describing happening between Kane and Izzy, and then with Marie. And, yeah, maybe TJ’s ex never really got that physical, but the whole thing wasn’t exactly healthy. He tries to ignore the images in his head triggered by the words like she was nothing because, fuck, how many times has TJ heard his ex say that about him?

        “Somebody’s gotta be nosy,” TJ says and cracks a small smile at Ford. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on his knees, his good arm wrapped around his legs, the other resting by his side, the cast too heavy to wave it around. He’s still kind of unsure of what he’s supposed to say. Don’t worry, man, stuff will sort itself out? As if. TJ can definitely relate to some of what Ford’s saying but it doesn’t help in finding the right thing to say. “From where I’m standing, the best option is to just get over it. I mean, that’s what I’d try to do,” TJ says and, honestly, feels kind of stupid saying it. Easier said than done, he thinks. But still, getting over people is something that TJ would be miserable without (or, more miserable than he usually is), with how easy it is for him to start caring about people like that. 

        “And I get that you just…dunno, want what’s best for her but it’s really hard to just drop someone you love, even if they treat you like shit,” TJ shrugs, trying to keep it together. Is he really going there? He hasn’t really told anyone the truth about what things really looked like between him and Matt so it’s making him panic, a lot, but since they’re sharing, why not? And it’s Ford, he trusts Ford. “I mean, that’s coming from a guy whose only ever boyfriend absolutely fucking hated him,” TJ says. He starts playing with a loose thread coming out of the rip in his jeans, his gazed fixed on what he’s doing, just so he doesn’t have to look Ford in the eye. “Which, I guess, makes me completely fucking unqualified to have a say about the shit that’s going on with you,” he chuckles, as if to lighten the mood, but his laugh sounds dry and kind of pathetic. “Anyway, I guess I…get it? Like you said, doing shit that you knew you were gonna regret. I used to do that all the time back when…” he pauses then because he’s not sure if he should be saying even more about his past than he’s already has, considering how he spends most of his time trying to forget it. “Well, back when I was doing bad,” he settles finally. “So I guess that maybe I know what you mean and— well, I’m sorry you gotta deal with that shit,” TJ says and he’s still not looking at Ford. He’s not sure if he’s said anything right, he doubts it and figures that, if anything, he’s just left room for a lot of questions, which makes him freak out a little. 

Everything inside of Ford comes to a sudden stop once TJ begins to go over the inner workings of him and his first boyfriend. There were very little people Ford would have done anything for, and there were especially very little people he truly cared for with everything in his being. TJ just so happened to be one of them and he was at the very top of the list. In hindsight, there was nobody he trusted more than him. He was his best friend, his confidant. TJ has been the only one who’s seen him at his most vulnerable on more than one occasion. Which still wasn’t much and usually consisted of Ford laying his head on TJ’s lap and remaining silent for a whole night or two. But to Ford, that was more than anything and enough intimacy to make him want to combust. 

Ford allows his gaze to examine TJ’s face, wondering if he should pry or not. He knows from experience, especially now, that bottling these things up can truly make a person feel like crap. So he reaches his arm out, resting a hand gently on TJ’s shoulder, his head canting to the side just a little. “First of all, don’t be sorry. You don’t owe me shit and you don’t have to give me advice, especially if you don’t have it.” His words are laced with a laugh, his expression relaxing a bit. Ford does his best to keep the air light now, knowing he’s about to ask something that could potentially send TJ into a dark place. “Just you sitting here and listening to me vent about all my dumb, irrelevant bullshit is enough for me. Nobody ever fuckin’ listened to me growing up, man. I either had to take my problems and shove ‘em up my ass or deal with it myself.”

Another laugh comes from him, though quieter this time, and he moves to sit back again. While removing his hand from TJ’s shoulder, he turns his gaze, focusing them on his shoes for a moment. Just to collect his thoughts. He thinks of all that’s happened with Izzy, and how he feels for her, and almost feels a little stupid. He tries not to let this dictate his mood, especially as he turns back towards his best friend again. “What happened between you and this dude? Your ex-boyfriend, I mean.”

Eli goes back and forth between texting Ford for a good couple of hours — he’s already smoked a whole pack of cigarettes and drank whatever he could find at his place, trying to talk himself out of wanting to get high. Needless to say, it hasn’t really worked and he’s came to terms with the fact that it’s not going to either the second he hits send. He figures that it was bound to happen, a slip-up like this, and tonight’s pretty convenient — Eli’s at his place, telling Ollie that he needs to clean it up and maybe start figuring out what he should pack, since he’s supposed to be moving and all. He wonders if he’d be able to distract himself enough if Ollie was here, but then he realizes that probably not, because the itch to score has been bothering him way too much lately, enough to make him crack. And since he and Izzy aren’t on the best of terms right now, Eli turns to the second-best choice, admittedly, not on the best terms either. 

The second Ford opens his mouth, Eli wants to give up any civility. “Shut the fuck up or you’re gonna get your goddamn teeth knocked out on that fucking curb,” he says, absolutely serious. Anyone badmouthing Ollie is enough to get Eli to throw punches.”You know damn well why Izzy got stabbed, you can thank your dead president for that,” he shrugs. Eli shoves his hands deep into his pockets and looks around, as if he’s still on the fence about what he wants. He’s not. “I want some blow. And since Izzy’s not talking to me, you’re the only other one who can get me some.”

Once distinct malice oozes from Eli’s tone, Ford raises his hands in mock defeat. He had no business getting into it with Eli right now, especially like this. The dude was huge and Ford was almost certain he could pick him up and toss him into some other dimension with just a single toss. So, he doesn’t try it. Sure, Ford was tough, but he wasn’t fucking stupid. Crossing Oliver Stone’s boyfriend was a recipe for disaster for anyone who wanted to attempt it. But then Eli is talking about drugs and Ford can’t help but chuckle. It comes out bittersweet, a part of him almost disappointed that Eli only wanted to score and that was it. But it all begins to make sense to him now. Of course, Eli couldn’t go to Izzy, so Ford was his next option. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Ford states under his breath, moving to stand again. He runs his hands through his hair, tucking a few loose strands of blond locks behind his ear. “You came to fuckin’ score? Are you outta your fuckin’ mind?” He questions, turning towards Eli again.

He tries to ignore the comment about Kane, not in the mood to discuss the topic as it’s all he’s been exposed to for the last three weeks. That’s when Ford looks around once more, “Your boyfriend’s not gonna pounce from the bushes like some mountain lion or some shit?” It’s an honest question, considering everything that’s happened. A loud sigh sounds from him, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “Can’t do it here.” Ford finally says, feeling at his pockets for the spare bag of coke he had residing there. “I’m also not the dealer anymore, so you’re gonna have to find another junkie sucker to get your shit from soon, you hear me?” Ford heads back towards his bike, knowing Eli will know where to meet him. Most of his customers met him at a quiet street corner, a place where’s met Eli from time to time in the past.

Seeing Ford put another cigarette in his mouth has Izzy about ready to swat that shit onto the ground. She hated seeing people she cared about hinging themselves on vices that would eventually prove to be deadly. Again, hypocritical with her own habits but she was far more concerned with people leaving her than her leaving those people. Sure, it might be hard but if these past few weeks showed her anything, it’s that she’s only got three solid people in her life. One of them being Ford and while he may have thought he liked her above all the other people in town, she’s sure he won’t feel the same now. They’ve spent far too much time together where she wasn’t the same human that he liked. At least, that’s how she reasoned herself out of feeling guilty for drinking for three weeks straight. “Don’t know what that fucking sounds like but it sounds pretty awful,” she smirked, her eyes trailing over his mouth. “Plus, you’ll get wrinkles, cariño.”

Izzy looked up to the sunshine, feeling her hair blowing in the breeze. She hadn’t come outside much, not even to the porch, especially considering the amount of second-hand smoke she’d have to endure. Between Ryder, Adrian and Ford, she’s sure they’ve smoked at least a carton a week since being there. “We could get you a blow up mattress,” she shrugged, running a hand through her perfectly beachy waves she’d chosen today. His remark about her looking pretty, already eliciting a smile from her lips, one of the very, very few that she’s had in the past few weeks. And it comes so naturally, as if she hadn’t stored up that compliment from a million times before from a million different people. But something about Ford saying it now makes the dark parts lighten, even just a little bit.

Isobella can’t help but bat her eyelashes at his compliment, which tries to balance her taking the cigarette from his fingers and tapping it out in the ashtray so that he could relight it but not now. “You think so?” she asked, stepping a leg forward to one side of Ford’s patio chair and sitting down to straddle his legs. “Did you see my jewels too?” she asked, closing her eyes to show off the tiny gems on her eyelids. She’d gone a bit overboard with this stay at home look but the idea of taking this look out into the world does sound promising. Although, she’d prefer if Ford just took the place of the prospect she’d been hoping to come over and tell her she was pretty all-day, instead. “You wanna go out?” Izzy sighed, unsure of her own answer to that. 

They’d left the house, sure, but she wasn’t the one that decided on that. It’d been an order and even then, she almost declined. She could already hear the whispers in town, wondering how the addict hadn’t gone and killed herself. The whispers about the woman who’s boyfriend’s head was on a stake. The whispers about the woman who loved the man that everyone thought was a monster, when she knew a different side of him, something that no one else would ever see again. “People talk,” she shrugged, admitting her own fear out loud, as if it wasn’t obvious. “I’m not sure I’m ready for all that,” she added, placing a hand on Ford’s chest, in an effort to distract him. She didn’t want to push too hard on Ford, knowing his previous feelings about their moment in the port-a-potty. But if she convinced him otherwise, maybe she’d never have to face the outside world. She’d never have to face the whispers. “We could stay here… and have some fun…” she proposed, her voice low, attempting to add an air of seduction to her every word. “Don’t need to go anywhere.”

There was something about Izzy being there now that calms him. Maybe he just liked seeing her okay again. Or close to being okay again. He had spent so long just scratching at the surface, practically almost drowning under the weight of her sorrow. But even then, he never left. Everything inside of Ford was desperate to see her make this through to the end. There was also another part of him that knew she couldn’t get to that place on her own. Even with Ford’s company, most of the time she tried to rid of her sorrows by drinking and popping pills. He feared what the consequences might have been if she was alone at a time like this, with nobody to turn to, and with nobody there to clean up her messes. But he was there, and still was now. He was there from the beginning, at the funeral, and he’ll be there for whatever comes next. 

Maybe he was being naive, giving his all to someone who might never return the sentiment. But what did Ford have to lose other than her? His dignity? His sanity? Both of those paled in comparison to what Izzy could ever offer him, even if what she offers will never be half of what she wanted for her and Kane originally. He knows, in some strange way, that he’ll always be filling a space for her. Or maybe this was just the hopelessly pessimistic nature in him speaking. Either way, it’s a daunting feeling. There are moments of time where he doesn’t really care. Kane was dead, and he was just taking care of his friend, so what was the bother? But then there are times like this where she’s sitting on his lap, being sweet, and it all pulls him back in that seductive Isobella fashion that gets him every time. 

“Nah, no blow-up mattress. Those things are worse than the couch, man. I promise the couch is okay and I don’t mind sleepin’ there. As long as you’re okay with me being here than the rest doesn’t matter.” The blond wraps both of his arms around Izzy, eyes squinting as he takes a closer look at the glistening rhinestones glued to her eyelids. Truth be told, Ford was genuinely shocked. He didn’t even think things like this could be possible with makeup. “Shit, that’s actually pretty cool.” He laughs out, canting his head to the side a little. “How do you do that? Like, glue?” Once again, Ford has no idea how makeup works.

At what she says next, Ford can’t help but become both confused and surprised. Izzy was someone who had always seemed so carefree. She never gave a single shit about what anyone thought of her. But it’s obvious that’s changed. Not that it mattered to Ford, truth be told. He would have liked her either way. He rubs her back a little, both to distract her and also to collect his own thoughts somehow. “I mean, we can do whatever you want...” The biker trails off, still a tad oblivious to what she truly means. Was this really what she wanted? Ford couldn’t tell. Blue eyes carefully scan her expression, landing on her mouth and lingering there for a little longer than anticipated. He chuckles quietly, finally looking into her eyes again. He reaches up to brush a few hairs from her face before moving his hand back down into her lap, resting it onto her thigh, giving it a small squeeze. “Define fun.” He says, actually curious and both teasing her. 

Believe it or not, there was a time where Ford and Eli were close. Good friends, even. He has a good amount of font memories that involved him, TJ, Eli, and Ollie. They were friends, a little pack of misfits that just wanted to have a good time. It’s needless to say that, by now, that’s vanished from existence. Oliver stabbing Isobella might have been the final cherry on top when it came to the demise of their friendship, solidifying what they all knew to be true. They were worlds away now, on opposing sides of a war that just doesn’t want to end. So when Ford gets a text for Eli, he can’t help but become a little shocked. He read it over and over, thinking maybe there might be some hidden message within it that he was missing. Maybe this was the part where he finally kicks the bucket and this was some last piece of revenge from the Primordial clan once and for all. 

Either way, Ford meets him, hands in his pockets as he spots him. “So, what is it? You finally get tired of your slutty, big-mouthed boyfriend and decide to join the other side?” The blonde teases, mainly just to get under Eli’s skin. It’s what he did best, really. Pushing buttons and pulling strings. The biker scans his surroundings in one sweep before he takes a seat on the curb, moving to rest his hands on his knees. Ford pulls out a cigarette before speaking, “Seriously, what do you want, man? You got some nerve comin’ to me after Ollie stabbed Izzy.”

From his vantage point, Ryder took a peek into the living room where Adrian had stuck by Izzy’s side while he went to smoke. The turbulence in their relationship hadn’t settled exactly, at least not with Ryder; but for Izzy’s sake he was putting it on pause. He also figured Ford didn’t want to see Ryder shifting uncomfortably everytime Adrian picked something heavy up in his hands, though the newest patches opinion on his…situation…wasn’t his top priority. Turning his head to study Ford, he wondered what it was like to be patched in and being almost immediately thrown into this bullshit. “S why I took the dog out, actually,” waving the pack of cigarettes he was pocketing around like Ford needed proof that Ryder also smokes, the ginger leaned his head back on the microwave door. “Same, for the most part. It was mostly the sound…”

They were in the business of violence - being in a club and expecting no violence is naive - and while Kane’s dismembered head being presented to them on a stake was /new/, it was mostly the active decision that Kane’s killer made to record the man’s last few moments and play it on a loop that stuck with him. “It’s stuck in my head.” Honestly forgetting that Ford was also a fighter, Ryder hummed in appreciation, opening the fridge next to him and pulling out two of the beers he bought at the store on his last desperate trip to try and get some of this itching anxiety out of his bones. Offering one to Ford he quirked a brow and offered a smirk. “Gives them a chance to try and learn all your tricks before you kick their ass.” At Ford’s next question, Ryder tilted his head to the side. “Me and Iz?” Confusion laced his tone as he popped the top of the beer in his hands and took a swig. 

“We’re fine. I’m a little upset I didn’t get a chance to grab her before she saw it, but that’s it.” But then the ginger followed Ford’s gaze to the living room, where the dancer was sitting on the couch next to Izzy. The dots finally connected, Ryder sighed. “We’re…I’m…putting away the weird feeling. Izzy needs us more than I need to figure out how I feel. Sort of a ceasefire, you know?” Glancing back at the other man, Ryder raised an eyebrow. “What about you two?”

There’s a newfound wave of calm washing over Ford now. It’s small, barely there, but he accepts it with open arms. He’ll accept any moment of sudden silence in this house now. Even if there have been long fragments of time where there was nothing but dreadful silence filling the air. But that’s just what it was, silence fueled by dread and sorrow. It’s like being under a wet blanket and unable to remove it, or being above your body and having to only witness everything you do or say. It’s uncomfortable and unlike anything Ford has endured. But sitting here with Ryder now feels like the most normal thing that can come out of this whole thing and Ford needed that. A moment of something normal, of conversation. Even with such a heavy topic too. It was something. Something was certainly better than nothing in Ford’s eyes.

A hum sounds at the back of his throat, eyes averting down to his fidgeting hands. The sound replays in his mind. The screams on repeat. It was like something out of a damn horror movie. “Yeah, that was an um, an interesting touch on their part.” If anything, he had to give it to the Primordial clan. They were certainly a creative bunch. It was a little terrifying but almost pitiful in some strangely cynical way. But maybe Ford’s just become a little desensitized to the way of violence that this club creates. By now, he just pities them a little. As if they’re trying to make up for something by embarking on large, unfathomable theatrics. Either way, it’s still disturbing.

“Maybe it’s better that she saw it, in a weird way..” The blond trails off, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “I mean, it’s kinda morbid, but sometimes it’s better to have seen it then wonder what it might have looked like for the rest of your life, you know? But, I don’t know.” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, Ford wasn’t sure. It’s just how his mind works. It’s what he would have preferred, that’s for sure. But Izzy didn’t deserve it, he knows that much, which everyone was aware of at this point. 

Once Ryder begins talking about him and Adrian, he releases the tension he hadn’t realized had started to gather around his shoulders. In truth, he didn’t want to discuss Kane anymore. A sympathetic smile graces his expression now, nodding just a tad. “Understandable.” He says, leaning back in his seat. He too looks over at where Izzy and Adrian reside before continuing, “I hope you figure it out soon. I mean that, man. I just, I feel kinda bad. Bein’ around Izzy right now can’t be easy for him. She’s drinking like crazy and keeps poppin’ pills, you know?” Ford’s concern was genuine, you could tell from just the tone of his voice. At the questioning of himself and Izzy, he can’t help but sigh. What was there to say? He might have been in the same exact situation was Ryder right now, truth be told. “Puttin’ away the weird feeling.” He repeats, echoing Ryder’s own words with a subtle smile. That’s when Ford’s face falls, feeling like he’s clinging desperately to some well-kept secret that’s begun to eat him alive. He falls victim to this feeling, moving to rest his elbows on his knees, both of his hands running over his face and hair. “I like her so much. I want her to be okay. I don’t give a shit how I feel.”

As he watches the other man start to take his coat off, to drape it over his knees, Adrian wants to protest. It was a kind gesture, but one that is so grounded in pity it spikes Adrian’s self loathing more than he’d like to admit. He knows how people look at him, what they think when they see him up close. He doesn’t love being reminded of his own frailty.

But he can’t pretend like he doesn’t appreciate the warmth. The chills have been bad the last few days. Though, he knows they’re not entirely from the cold.

“He was good to her, sometimes,” Adrian says in quiet, empty tone. “I guess it’s the kinda thing no one but Iz will ever really understand, huh?” He isn’t sure where the sudden impulse to defend Kane had come from. Maybe he feels like somehow he’s defending Izzy was well. He never would have done it if the man was still alive. Not when he can so clearly remember the marks he left on his best friend’s skin. Never mind his own.

The name that escapes Ford’s mouth catches Adrian off guard. Like a record scratch or a car crash and nothing else he says registers while his brain struggles to overcome the malfunction. “Oliver?” he questions quietly. His memories reel back to the Halloween festival, and passive refusal to give him the whole story. Club business, a constant reminder that Adrian would always have just one foot outside of the inner circle of the triangle that he had formed with Iz and Ryder. A few weeks later he was sitting with Oliver in the dive, like nothing had changed between them because Adrian didn’t know they had. But Oliver Stone knew… “There’s no way. He wouldn’t. They’re friends. We’re… we were.” But there was a way. Because at some point, the patch had been sewn onto his skin and Oliver Stone isn’t actually the Ollie he knew anymore.

Adrian takes a shaky breath on his cigarette, rage in his fingertips holding the filter so tight it came apart in his hand. He watched the flame burn out on the concrete. “Shit’s so fucked up,” he muttered, almost forgetting Ford was there.

The sudden shock that decorates Adrian’s expression makes a pang of guilt to plow through Ford. It’s as if he’s crushed a dream, or tarnished the soul of a small, impressionable child. His expression scrunches, eyes squinting. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything to begin with, just continued on about how what’s going on is fucked up and leave it at that. Perhaps it’s a little too late for that now, but the thought was nice enough. 

He sighs and moves to clasp a gentle hand on Adrian’s shoulder. It’s brief, and he pulls it away soon enough. But in Ford’s world, that was a level of intimacy most never saw. It was a rarity and Ford hopes it oozes through the cracks enough for Adrian to notice that he was trying to offer him something, anything. He’s not sure what. Comfort? Reassurance? Who knows. “This is the club, man. That’s how it works...” His words come easy, but then he sighs again, still feeling as though he wasn’t saying the right thing. He didn’t want Adrian to be distressed or sad like Izzy was currently. Ford couldn’t handle that much dread in one space, he might explode. “It doesn’t mean Ollie still isn’t...I don’t know, a good man. I mean, he’s annoying as shit. But these clubs will do a number on you. It’s about loyalty and respect, really. It’s fucked up but this is it.”

The rage now settled on Adrian’s face was abundantly apparent, especially as the cigarette in his hands comes apart. Now Ford just feels like an idiot. Has he crossed a line? Who was Oliver Stone to Adrian, anyway? Ford won’t ask, as not to pry, but he’ll certainly ask at a later date. “Don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid, you hear me?” Ford says now, his voice much less comforting and sterner. “I know you love Izzy. You care about her. I do too. But don’t go plowing towards Oliver Stone like a fuckin’ bull, alright? Not now, at least. We can like, slash his tires or some shit. Torch his bike or something. I don’t know. But don’t do some dumb shit out of rage.”

@foughtdark​

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Izzy had done much of anything. Three weeks since she’d seen Kane’s face (besides on a stake, which she’d much rather forget). Three weeks since she’d been so overwhelmed with everything that was happening that most of the time she could barely get herself out of bed and onto the couch. She’d almost made it three weeks of not leaving the house that Izzy and Kane shared, before his untimely death, however the Club (or just fucking Seth) had other plans for her. Three weeks since she’d been sober, admittedly, maybe it’d been longer than that but she’d been downing a lot more bottles of vodka and sleeping a lot more before she couldn’t stay awake with all the depressants in her system. Three weeks could apparently change a lot of things and yet, somehow a lot stayed the same. As time went on, Ryder started staying at his house— the weight of the new position given to him on his mind. Adrian followed Ryder, checking on Izzy every so often when he wasn’t attending to Ryder. And then there was Ford, who still hadn’t really gone home much, as he continued to hover and sleep on the couch, spending most of their days together watching television or Izzy cooking for them.

She’d been a bit surprised he’d stayed, considering she wasn’t the most fun. Still, glimpses of a normal Izzy shined through on occasion, letting Ford (and Izzy) know that there might be light at the end of the tunnel after all. Some days, there were more glimpses than others and while she hadn’t wanted to, she’d managed to leave the house for the first time since Kane’s memorial service.  

Leaving the house had probably been one of her least favorite things to do. She had to face the entire Club, knowing that they were all staring at her wondering if she was going to fall apart right in front of them. And as much as she wanted to tell Seth Carter to shove the fucking drugs up his fucking ass if he wanted them moved so fast, she knew that Ryder and Ford would be standing right there behind him to convince her otherwise. It was fucking infuriating and Iz knew that while Seth and Kane were friends, Kane probably wouldn’t have wanted Seth to be his predecessor. But with limited options, this was the team they had and everyone was going to have to get the fuck over it… including herself. What she hadn’t minded was Ryder and Ford flanking Seth, knowing that they would at least make sure that she wasn’t discarded or left behind. She was proud of them and when she learned about their positions, she planted a kiss on each one’s cheek to let them know that she was happy for them (even if it meant Kane had had to die for this to happen). 

By the third week of mostly no attention, unless it involved pity, Isobella had gotten a little stir crazy. She’d thought about asking a prospect to come over and essentially be there to remind her how pretty she was. Izzy’s downfall was her constant need for others to desire her, love her, and wanted her. It was a bad habit at best. But losing her family taught her that not even they would stick around for her, as a person, so why would anyone else? And now that the light in her personality had faded away, Izzy found herself looking for any and every inclination that the three men around her were on their way out. After all, she wasn’t offering them laughs or sex, so what was she worth now?

She’d had the energy to put on makeup this morning and do her hair, but that energy hadn’t quite extended to her not wearing the robe that Ryder had forced her to wear or out of the silky pajamas she liked to wear around the house but it was a start. And with Ford out on the porch and Ryder and Adrian out doing their own thing, Izzy found herself wandering out to the porch where Ford sat with a cigarette in hand. “Ya know, you really outta quit that,” she said as she sauntered out of the house, walking around the table to stand in front of him. Sure, her statement was hypocritical since she had never stopped drinking for too long, not to mention her fun with coke or her times with oxy. But it’d been the same thing she’d told Kane and the same thing she told Ryder so Ford was bound to get it at some point. “You sleep okay on the couch?” she asked, cocking her head at the Trojan. “The couch always makes my neck hurt.”

Three weeks. Had it really been three weeks? Ford had started to disregard any passage of time by the time they reached three days, especially since watching Izzy coiled up on the couch wasn’t exactly riveting entertainment. That’s not to say he didn’t want to be there. He did, he did so much. Even as Ryder and Adrian started to come around much less and it was just him and Izzy, he didn’t mind it. Even so, he almost liked when it was just the two of them. Usually, he would have spent his days in his sad little apartment, pacing the floor and wishing he was someone else. But in some strange way, Izzy gives Ford some newfound sense of purpose. She gives him drive, optimism, and vague vibrancy. Even before Kane’s death, there was something about her that, in a way, jolted him back to life. It’s taken him a little while to accept that, as he’s more geared towards running and never looking back when it comes to emotions like this. But with Izzy becoming consumed by her own dread, Ford felt it was necessary to take this feeling and run with it, despite everything in him telling him to go. He wanted to be here, he wanted to take care of her, and that was exactly what’s happened during these three weeks.

Besides, the only new thing in his life was that he was now third in command. Even if Ford wasn’t exactly the leaderish type, he feels more at ease knowing he has some authority to talk Seth down when he becomes unhinged or unfit for this position. Ford predicts that’ll happen soon enough, though he keeps quiet on that front. Best to just keep his mouth shut and accept what he’s got. It’s not like they had any other options, especially now. He also does his best to keep Izzy involved and in the loop, even from home, he wasn’t afraid to knock someone out for even looking at her funny right now. Ford has somehow refrained himself from doing so, but he’s sure that will come up eventually too.

Another thing consuming his life recently: smoking. Maybe it was his nerves or the new position, but he’s been smoking like a damn chimney. Something about the chaos brewing in their club reminisces the chaos he used to endure back home. It triggered him slightly, made him a little more on edge. It doesn’t exactly help that he’s waiting for a Thane to pop up from the bushes in a Michael Myers mask to fucking murder him in cold blood. With that thought, he takes another slow drag, watching as the smoke dances lazily into the air and evaporates into nothing. The sound of Izzy coming outside snaps him out of his sudden trance, a quiet scoff sounding from him at what she says. “Hold on, you’re tellin’ me you’re not gonna like me when I eventually sound like I’ve mouth-fucked a pitchfork because of all the cigarettes?” That’s when he puts out said cigarette onto the ground, tossing it into the ashtray settled on the edge of her porch. The mention of the couch makes him shrug, his lips pursing soon after. “Couch is fine. I’ve slept in fuckin’ alleyways and beds that feel like they’re made of cardboard and steel. Really, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. It’s fine.” A warm, subtle smile graces his expression now, blue eyes averting back over to Izzy again. He notices the makeup instantly now, though he wouldn’t have if he didn’t spend three weeks seeing her without it. Makeup was always confusing to him and he’s still not entirely convinced that Beauty Blenders weren’t just fancy butt plugs of some kind. “You look pretty,” The blond starts, “I like the uh, the eyelashes. I never noticed that before. It makes a difference.” He motions to his own eyelashes then signals towards her own to further his point, and because he didn’t want to seem stupid. 

Ford reaches for, you guessed it, yet another cigarette after that. Mainly because even the vaguest of intimacies such as this makes him feel strange but good at the same time and the combination of the two was always detrimental to his stream of intrusive thoughts. So, he lights another one, keeping his gaze glued to the smaller woman before him. “It’s kinda nice out. Maybe we can go out to eat or something for dinner this time. Somewhere where you can sit outside and shit.”

The smoke feels good in his lungs, grounding him back to the earth as he inhales. Adrian thanks Ford as he passes the lighter back. He tugs Ryder’s jacket around him the way a middle aged woman might tug her bathrobe around herself when she steps out to get a newspaper in the morning. His arms wrap around his body, trying to trap the warmth in his body because he can’t afford to lose any. He skips down the steps and perches himself on the one below where Ford has claimed. His bony knees poke out of the torn holes in his jeans like stalagmites, sharp and pale.

“At some point, sleep is sleep no matter how you get there. And she needs  just a few hours to not think about all this shit,” he says, letting smoke roll off his tongue. “If it was me… I don’t know if I’d even be alive at this point.” It was the recurring thought that he hasn’t yet voiced to anyone. But he kept seeing that shock of red hair in his dreams. Jutting out of something unrecognizable on a stick outside his trailer. He’d fooled himself into thinking that Ryder was invincible. That whatever strained and mysterious connection Ryder seems to have to Andy would protect him. But if Kane can be taken out so easily, he isn’t sure if anything can protect any of them. “So, thanks. But I’m gonna stick around.”

Even though he can feel the anxious itch of a craving under his skin. Even though the despair is suffocating. Even though he still isn’t sure if he’s worked his way back into the good graces of the two people who matter the most to him. Adrian is in for the long haul.

“She’s the queen of ‘can’t catch a fucking break,’ right?” Adrian watches the red cherry on his cigarette burn down the cigarette, worms of fire eating through the paper holding it together. “Kidnapped, stabbed, and this. All in what? A month?”

“At least he went out in style..” Ford trails off with a quiet chuckle, realizing mid-sentence how fucked up it sounds. Who cares at this point, right? He assumes they’re all way past tiptoeing around the subject entirely. This wasn’t exactly something one takes lightly, especially in conversation. A man’s head has been stuck onto a spike, there was nothing mundane or light about that and there never will be. Blue eyes look over to Adrian, scanning his body. Ford carefully removes his own jacket and drapes it over Adrian’s exposed knees. Both because his frailness makes him anxious and because he obviously needs it more than him. Ford liked the cold, so it didn’t really matter to him.

A quiet, barely-there scoff sounds from him this time and it comes out more bittersweet than anything. A little like a sigh, almost. He shakes his head in minor disbelief before speaking, “I don’t even know what I would have done in that situation. Maybe run away. Leave town. I don’t know.” That’s when he moves to put out his cigarette, digging it into the concrete and watching as the remaining ashes smear against the gravel beneath his feet. “Nobody can exactly muster what their reaction would be if they saw the person they loved...like that. I mean, he was a raging fuckin’ piece of shit, but she loved him, so.”

The mention of all that’s happened to Izzy almost stings, a pain fluttering inside his chest at the thought of it all. “I know.” He states plainly, looking down at his shoes again. “Stabbed by Oliver Stone, no less. I’ve been waiting to see if he pops out of the bushes or something like that. That’s something he would do.” He laughs again, looking out over Izzy’s front lawn. “But, you know, that’s the price you pay for bein’ in a club like this, sadly. You’ll learn that soon enough, man, if you’re gonna be Ryder’s Old Man in the future or some shit. Look at Ollie, his Old Man was kidnapped too. Don’t know how Kane did that shit. Eli’s a fucking tank. Like, what’d he use, a fuckin’ U-Haul? But the game’s fucked up. Welcome.”

FORD + HIS JOURNAL.

FORDCOLLINS uploaded TWO new photos.

The punch to his solar plexus folds him like a lawn chair around Ford’s fist and before he even realizes he’s falling, the mat comes up to meet his crumbled body. Sloppy. Pathetic. He could hear the snarl of his fathers voice in his head, the sound of his hand slapping on the floor of the ring to get his attention, the cracking sound of his belt echoing off the walls of their shitty apartment. Get up, pussy. 

Except it’s not his father’s voice because his father is very much dead. Six feet under (or tossed in the Gulf) thanks to a different dead man entirely. Wyatt plants his hands against the mat, brings his knees up and shoves himself back to his feet, forcing himself out of the flashback and back into the ring. His diaphragm spasmed in pain when Wyatt inhaled but he ignored hit, reluctantly pulling his hand away from his middle to put them back up.

Sweat dripped into his eyes as he glared at his opponent with a look that could set fire to the whole place. “You’re not putting me down with a cheap shot like that, Collins,” he snarls as he plants his feet firmly in position. The Primordial, as much as Wyatt hates to admit it, is a decent fighter. A brick wall of a man who doesn’t hold back. It would be respectable if Wyatt didn’t hate him so fucking much.

Without warning Wyatt hurled himself towards the other man, his bare knuckles making contact with bare skin.

There’s a devilish creeping upon his face as he watches Wyatt plummet to the ground. The satisfaction that plows through Ford at the sight of something like this was always strangely alarming. There were days where Ford feels as though he’s grown bored of boxing and that being so damn beat up most days wasn’t worth the activity. But here he was, enjoying every damn second of it. Even with his throbbing stomach and bleeding lip, he enjoys it. He knows he’ll be stuck icing his whole body later on, but the moment was too electrifying to think about the future.

That’s until Wyatt’s fist comes colliding with his face and Ford lurches back, stumbling a little. He spits the remaining blood that pools within his mouth somewhere to the side. Someone will clean it up, right? In one quick instance, he swings at Wyatt, giving him the same treatment. The punch is weaker than before, especially as Ford’s ear had begun to ring loudly. But that was usually routine by now.  

The thing about Ford and boxing was that he actually wasn’t very good. The only reason he prevails within this sport was that he was absurdly violent. He knew little of the true techniques that went into something like this. He never knew if he was meant to go left or jab right or to stick his feet in a different position in order to not take a hit so intensely. In hid mind, he was there to be aggressive, to beat down on someone smaller and make some money. As his thoughts spiral, Ford and Wyatt continue to circle the ring, the blood moving from Ford’s lip dripping onto his chin. A busted lip is nothing new for him and he carefully wipes his forearm across it, blood smearing onto the skin there. “Come on, go for it.” He eggs on, almost hoping Wyatt would hit him again. 

Even from under the wave of darkness that seemingly keeps rushing over her, she can see that Ford was trying. It was more than she could say about herself. If things were reversed and Izzy had to comfort a mostly desolate human being with little to nothing to say and she was her normal self, it’d be fucking hard. Iz can only imagine that if anything, Ford is happy. Happy that the man that he didn’t even really care for is dead and gone. Happy that the man that Izzy had loved is gone. While she knew it wasn’t intentionally malicious and it wasn’t a happy that he would show off to her, it still stings. It hurts to know that no one can really relate to her right now. No one truly knew Kane like she had. No one had loved Kane like she had. No one ever would. And that was one of the loneliest feelings. The feeling of dread because she alone would be missing the man until her day came around. Although she doesn’t see much good that she’s done nor that Kane is done so it isn’t a pleasant thought that creeped into her mind next. The image of Hell with Kane and Izzy living in it. Guess her parents would end up right after all.

It’s a dark thought but it’s the only one that she can find comfort in. Ford couldn’t understand this pain and neither could Ryder and nor could Adrian. They didn’t see his head and realize that the future they’d envisioned for themselves was long gone. That their entire life was shifting in front of their eyes and their world was crashing down around them. ‘This is forever’ may have meant something but when half of that forever was no longer breathing, it didn’t mean a whole lot anymore. Now, she had to sit here and listen to Ford attempt to make her feel better. That she’d come out stronger, that she’d make it out because he had and all she can say is, “That’s a bunch of bullshit,” she mumbled, shaking her head but her eyes not lifting from the television screen. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that shit just like I shouldn’t have fuckin’ had to see my boyfriend’s head on a stake,” she retorted, Izzy’s lips pursed in frustration.

It wasn’t his fault, she had to remind herself. He didn’t deserve this shit taken out on him. “Sorry,” she grumbled, knowing that if she acted like a piece of shit, she’d soon have no one. Izzy already had very few friends and no family, she couldn’t afford to keep losing people like this. She leaned forward, picking up the bottle and drinking from it before holding it over to Ford to offer him some. It was the best she had to give right now and the most she could offer him— even him. One of the few people that came to be by her side during the worst day of her life. While she’d been worried that he would see her differently, see her as less of Izzy and more as a normal human rather than some overpowered fire work, if they were going to be friends… just friends. As he had requested, especially with his dating life taking off – he had to know the good, the bad and the ugly.

That’s the thing, Ford was trying so hard. Harder than he’s ever tried for anyone or anything. It might not be as outwardly obvious, which is no surprise considering Ford is truly terrible at these things. But damn, he tries for her. He tries to open up the cage inside his mind that so securely guards his darkest memories and thoughts. He’s done so much to avoid opening up within any capacity, but she needed him now. Ford wasn’t exactly sure what that means or what it’ll mean in the future. Either way, he’s only aware that he’s never felt like this before. So vulnerable and unable to put a lid on all the things he’s kept contained for so long. Not to mention he has the most profound desire to make her feel okay again, as if her pain was somehow moving throughout his own bloodstream too. It’s an ache in his chest, a need to reach out and pry away every sense of sadness from her.

By now, he’s aware that her harsh tone was a product of everything she’s been through today. He doesn’t blame her, nor does he take it to heart. He just shrugs a little, lips pursing in thought. “Don’t be sorry.” Ford finally says, turning to her again. For a second, he thinks of all the things he did before being here. Like going on a date, weaving his way through something new, and being away from her. In some weird way, he doesn’t miss that time, even if it was only days ago. Sure, branching out into a world where he can finally rid himself from his feelings for Isobella seemed reasonable and like a better option than festering in something that simply could never be. But he’d rather be here than there again. He wanted to be here, to sit with her and drown in sorrow together. Maybe that’s what love was, preferring to go through all the bad with someone instead of running out to find the good in something new. “What’re you saying sorry for?” He asks again with a quiet laugh, hoping to lighten both of their moods. It was going to take a lot more than a sour mood to push Ford out of Izzy’s life and that much was obvious now.

The biker moves to sit up a little now, reaching over to take the bottle of alcohol she offers him. It’s better than anything and Ford appreciates it regardless. A subtle smile still graces his expression as he takes a generous swig, his face scrunching as the alcohol moves through his throat. Ford offers the bottle back, backing to slouch against the couch again. His brows furrow as he looks towards the Food Network again. Which, somehow, brings a thought to his mind. “You know, if you wanted, we could do Thanksgiving here. Just me, you, Adrian, and Ryder. Doesn’t have to be anything big either. Hell, we could even order the whole dinner but cooking it would be fun. Only if you wanted to, though.”

Coming outside for a smoke break was the first breath of fresh air he’d gotten in days. The presence of death in that house is as suffocating as the smell that lingered around the Dive just a few nights ago. But Adrian has no plans to escape any time soon. As soon as he’d heard the news, he’d made up his mind that someone had to be with Izzy at all times. He had no love for Kane but Izzy is one of the most important people in the world to him.

And if he were in Izzy’s place–if Ryder’s head had been left on a sick for him to see–Adrian knows exactly what he’d do the second he found himself alone. And if he lets his thoughts linger on it a bit too long, he has to admit to himself that Iz would be the only person who cared enough to make sure he didn’t do it.

Leaning against the wall beside the front door, Adrian tucks a cigarette in the corner of his lips. Blindly, he fishes in Ryder’s coat pocket only to turn up empty handed. “You got a light?” he asks Ford, as soon as the other man emerges from the house. Adrian can feel the heat escaping from the front door and imagines that Ford is letting out some of the despair trapped inside.

“She asleep yet?” he asks quietly around a lump in his throat.

@foughtdark​

Ford couldn’t exactly find the words to describe the sensation of what occurs inside Isobella’s home. It’s dreadful, maybe, but even that feels like an understatement. It’s dark, like moving through a pitch-black room and your only source of vision is the hand you desperately stick out to try and find your way around. At first, Ford didn’t mind it, especially since he’s never really believed in others having the ability to bring others down with them. But now here he was, practically suffocating from the sorrow that drenches this house so heavily due to Izzy’s own grief. It fuels newfound guilt inside him, feeling terrible for the girl that he loves. He almost fears she might think less of him after she finally regains her strength, coming to terms with the fact that Ford actually despised Kane. 

He tries to distract his intrusive thoughts, deciding to go for yet another smoke break. The blond had lost count of how many cigarettes he’s gone through during his stay so far. It had to be more than ten now, but who’s counting? A subtle smile graces his tired expression as he sees Adrian outside too, clad in a coat that was a little too big for him. But everything looked a little too big on Adrian. It’s both endearing and alarming. “Yeah, man.” He says quietly, reaching into his own pocket to pluck out the lighter that resides there. He carefully lights his own cigarette before handing the lighter over to the smaller man. 

“Think so. I mean, if you considering knocking out early because of pills and vodka falling asleep...” Ford trails off, moving to sit on the step outside of Izzy’s home. Smoke travels through the air as he takes a long drag of his cigarette, watching as it swirls and evaporates into nothing. “It’s all fucked up.” He states, blue eyes averting down to his shoes. He digs the toe of his sneakers into the gravel, kicking a rock soon after. His tone is monotone in classic Ford fashion. He’s never been one to display any visible emotion, though it’s obvious in this situation that he’s being sincere. “If you and Ryder wanna take a night off or anything, I can look after her. Ain’t like I got anything else to do, you know?” 

LOMK SPECIFIC ASK MEME.

9.  Would they ever associate with someone from the opposing MC (for members/associates)? Do they mingle with both MCs (for neutrals)?

Probably, if he had good reason to. Not anyone from the Thane family, though, because he thinks most of them are annoying. Sorry, Thane fam....it’s nothing personal, I still love u.

21.  Is there a life event that has totally shifted who your muse is as a person?

Being put into the foster system definitely changed Ford forever. Being abandoned like that is something he’s never truly recovered from. He’ll say he’s over it and that he barely thinks about it but he absolutely does. He thinks about it constantly and endlessly relives the moment he was taken from his home. Even though his home was toxic and dysfunctional, it was still heartbreaking and traumatizing. He’s never been the same and he never will be.

24.  Is your character able to forgive and forget or do they hold grudges?

LOMK SPECIFIC ASK MEME.

10.  Was your character happy, sad, relieved, mad, etc. at Kane’s death? Why?

Ford didn’t care like, at all. He thought Kane was a piece of shit who was on borrowed time so he wasn’t exactly shocked when he was killed. The only reason he was kinda happy about his death was that it meant Izzy was free from his abusive grip. He could never exactly forget when Izzy would come around with bruises decorating her skin because of him and he also hated that nobody but him ever said anything about it. So to him, it was a little bit of a blessing in disguise in some absurd way, though he won’t say that to her. He doesn’t think she deserves to hear that and believes she should just grieve in peace without any technicalities. 

19.  What does your muse think is most attractive about my muse? 

His mouth and hands. He likes the tattoos he has on his hands especially.

26.  What is a plot that you’d like to do but haven’t explored yet? 

Answered but I guess I can say more. I hella want some more Primordial vs Trojan fight nights I feel like that’d be so much fun.

28.  This or that: 

LOMK SPECIFIC ASK MEME.

1.  Why did you join the Primordials/Trojans (for members)? Why haven’t you joined the Primordials/Trojans (for non-members)?

Answered!

16.  Who is your character loyal to?

Honestly...................nobody. LMFAO. Ford will go against anybody whenever he feels like he should and he doesn’t care about it. He’s only very loyal to TJ but even that took some time. Isobella is the only other person he’s loyal to other than him.

22.  Does your character feel worthy of love? Of hate?

Ford doesn’t believe he’s worthy of love or hate because to him, that requires too much attention on him. He doesn’t think he’s worthy of anything at all. 

26.  What is a plot that you’d like to do but haven’t explored yet?