Reality unchecked

Bet On Me / Lance & Justin

Truth be told, these things had always stressed Justin out. The town-wide events, the faires and festivals and other things that stretched themselves across Downsville and affected every last corner and crevice of it. Under its mask of festivities, the town was almost unrecognizable, and thus Justin always felt a little like he was in another world, and that he had to explore that world fully before it vanished; and if he didn’t, he’d somehow failed. Failed what, exactly? He didn’t quite know, himself. All he knew was that at the end of it, if he hadn’t tried everything, he got this sense of disappointment and sadness in the pit of his gut, and he could only register it to one thing; failure.  Right now, though, things were... different. To say the least. He was in another world, and the festivities that took place then and there were different to those Justin was otherwise used to; it seemed bigger somehow, grander, and it only stressed him out further.  Thankfully, he had Lance there to distract him. Not that he told Lance how he felt -- he figured it was an unnecessary level of damper on what was obviously something Lance thoroughly enjoyed -- but the guy actually managed to be an incredible distraction all on his own. Justin didn’t know if he only had to thank Lance’s personality for that, or the very, very small warmth that had started to erupt in Justin’s heart whenever he looked at his best friend.  A laugh escaped Justin as he gazed out over the designated area for the pie eating competition. He shook his head in amusement, thinking for a moment. “You’re on,” he said instead with a nod, and turned to Lance, grinning excitedly; there was just the tiniest hint of a childishness across his grin. “But let’s make it more interesting. You said you bet on your body and soul,” he began, and stepped closer to his friend, “so... how about the loser has to bet their body on some loser-style skinny dipping?” 

Addie couldn’t help but laugh at his musings, nodding along. “You know I never did either, but they’re everywhere now!” she agreed in disbelief. “It’s like those boys are more important than all the politicians of this whole country or something.” she explained, then giggled at his question. “You know you’re probably not the first person to wonder that…myself included.” she admitted with a smile. “But aren’t they like sixteen? Seventeen?”

“I know!” Justin said excitedly, glad to have someone share his point of view on the subject. “You know, you could show me any picture of a politician in this wor--uh, country, and I wouldn’t be able to say who it is but, okay, these guys? Harry, Lewis, uh, Nee-all, Liam, and Zayn, I know all their names.” He shook his head smiling, clearly amused. A laugh escaped him at her next comment, and he looked to the poster again, the better to study them and estimate their ages. He hadn’t actually bothered to look their ages up, but they didn’t at all look old. “That’s what I’d guess,” he said truthfully, and turned his smile back to the woman. “But I’d lie if I said I knew. I mean, they do look kind of... young, don’t they? Not a single crinkle in their face anywhere!”

“… You prefer more than one direction?” Ryan spoke before he had finished talking, completely misinterpreting him. She caught sight of the poster and, figuring it out, laughed a bit. “Oh! That British boy band. Always been more of a Beatles man, myself, if the category’s ‘British boy bands’. Although, I do ‘spose you’re right about them being attractive, and I wouldn’t worry about the cradle-snatching, because a hoard of teenage girls would murder you before you got the chance to shake their hand, proper. Ah, I’m babbling. Who’re you?”

Justin blinked in confusion at the woman’s statement, and though he wouldn’t exactly have said no to preferring more than one direction -- in terms of location, it got you to more than one places, and in terms of his own sexuality, he definitely preferred more than one direction -- a laugh nevertheless escaped him when she caught sight of the poster and corrected herself.  “The Beatles? Who are they?” he wondered, craning his neck and leaning forward a little. He had much, much more reading to do regarding this strange place, for so far One Direction was about one of the only things entertainment industry-wise that Justin had come to know about.  “Murder me?” he chuckled, almost as if that bit of information seemed ludicrous at best. “Would they-- I mean, that seems a little... harsh.” He turned to the poster. “I’d just be shaking their hands!” Justin let out a chuckle and shook his head, though his smile faded a little at her question. “I’m, uh, I’m Justin. I’m... new to town. Just her for sch-- for academic purposes, just, you know... studying and... stuff,” he tried to chuckle, though to his horror it sounded a tad bit nervous. 

Molly crossed her arms and looked up in the direction of the boy next to her.  She turned her attention back to the poster of the band on the wall, and eyed each of the men individually before shrugging.  “It doesn’t really matter to me that much…but whatever floats your boat?”

Half a smile appeared on Justin’s lips as the woman gave her verdict -- or rather, the levels of her investment in his thoughts -- and shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I’m not like-- hung up on them or anything. I haven’t even listened to them, to tell you the truth,” he smiled. “Just, you know... thought they seemed kind of cute. I understand all the hype, you know? Or some of it, at least.”

Angel stood back a bit from the man. His mouth slightly open as he stared off into the distance. Trying to recall what the hell a One Direction was. “What in the fuck are you going on about?”

“I--,” Justin stammered, pulled back to the reality of the fact that he’d started a conversation without any forethought -- and the reminder that it wasn’t a very normal thing to do with strangers outside of Downsville. Or rather, in this new, weird version of Downsville, which wasn’t Downsville Downsville -- and thus, Justin couldn’t trust to just know strangers on the street. When he looked the guy over, however, he realized he did know something about him -- he immediately recognized the other as a fellow shapeshifter. Seeing as that wasn’t part of the conversation at hand, though, Justin proceeded to gesture at the poster with a smile on his lips. “Uh -- these guys. Apparently they’re a big deal. And, like, I can’t blame people, really. They’re kind of cute!”

Not knowing whether someone was speaking to her had never stopped Haneul Song. Not knowing whether conversation was directed in her direction had never stopped her from giving a piece of her mind, or from butting in to said conversations. Take now, for example. She didn’t know if this man looking at a poster of five boys was talking to her, but, all the same, she had heard him, so she would take it as though he had directed the words at her. Haneul stopped in her tracks to look up close — really close — at the poster, before looking — not so closely — at the man who had spoken.

When the woman who had happened to be next to him stepped in really close to examine the poster, Justin took a step or two back to avoid coming into too close a proximity with her, to let her have her space that he wouldn’t doubt she wanted and needed, but was just too busy (or polite) to request. The proximity did alert him to the fact that she was also a shapeshifter, though he kept quiet about that as she examined the old poster. Justin met her comment with a surprised silence -- he looked from the poster to the woman repeatedly, before a half-amused, half-surprised chuckle escaped him. “A gnome? No! I mean-- no, right? Gnomes have... Santa hats and long white beards, that guy’s just-- he’s just cute, you know? Like a...,” he paused, and took a closer look at the guy. Sure, he was cherub-y, but not... not a gnome, right? “Like a kitten!”

“Folks always leave the best trinkets just lyin’ around.”

The sound of someone’s voice almost startled Justin straight out of his own skin; he jumped back as if the girl had lashed out at him, though quickly ran a hand smoothly down his own stomach in an attempt to calm himself down. It took him a moment of blinking and staring until his brain caught up with what she’d said and what she was doing, and when it did, Justin gave her a small, friendly smile. “You don’t think anyone’ll be back to claim it?”

“I’m afraid that we’re about to close shop.”

While his first paycheck wasn’t big enough to get him much closer to an apartment -- or any place to stay, really -- it was enough to buy Justin some much needed items for his comfort and survival. Mainly food, though, since that was the most dire thing he seemed to lack, as of now. Food and water. Water. Justin could practically feel the salt-water scent burn through his nose; he’d do anything at that moment to go for a swim in the ocean. He couldn’t, of course. He needed to acquire some food and liquid before it was too late, if it wasn’t too late already. Besides, these little tasks of survivalism -- using his first paycheck to acquire sustenance, every day finding somewhere he could spend the night -- they kept the panic at bay. The panic that still hadn’t entirely gone away, the panic that always seemed to lurk somewhere in his chest. The panic he didn’t know would ever go away, unless he got away from this... whatever kind of reality this was. No -- things had to work out. Sooner or later, things would go back to the way they used to be, and all Justin considered lost would be returned. It had to be so.  When the man called out that the shop was about to close, Justin hesitated on the threshold, torn between anxiety and need. He didn’t want to be rude, but... he needed some kind of preservable sustenance. “Um...,” he hesitated, and looked around. “I just kinda need, like... canned food or something like it. But it’s cool, you don’t have to go out of your way if you’re closing.” Never mind the painful gnawing Justin’s stomach was doing to itself. 

It costs $0.00 to be a decent person.